#my head died but you know if i had time i would turn this into a visual novel but with rlly minimizedddd options... like a visual fic

[mintyys-blog]

NOT MY WORLD — bald! mark grayson / cap invincible x reader

WARNINGS: homicide, kidnapping, smut, swearing, lying, murder, DUBCON,

You weren’t supposed to touch it.

Rudy had been clear: “Don’t mess with the calibration unless you want to end up somewhere you can’t come back from.”

But curiosity got the better of you.

It always did.

Eve had warned you about it before, more exasperated than angry.

“You have got to stop messing with things before you know what they do.”

She was usually right, but that never stopped you. You liked pushing limits, testing boundaries. It’s what made you useful to the team—bold, quick-thinking, unafraid to take risks.

But it also meant you had a habit of not listening. So when Rudy told you to leave the machine alone, what did you do? One wrong press of a button. One flick of a switch.

And then— White-hot light. A deafening crack. The feeling of your body being ripped through space and time.

⸻

Nowhere and Nothing. When it stopped, the lab was gone. So was Eve. So was Rudy.

Instead, you were here. Where ever here was.

A ruined world, suffocating under a blood-red sky. Cities reduced to graveyards. Silence so thick it felt unnatural. Your stomach twisted as you took a shaky step forward. Where the hell were you?

The machine had been an experimental dimensional stabilizer, meant to analyze alternate timelines. It was never supposed to send you into one.

At least, that’s what Rudy had said. Your mind raced, piecing together the possibilities. This wasn’t just another time—this was a whole other world.

A world where something had gone terribly wrong.

Your foot brushed against something. You looked down. A half-ripped poster, barely clinging to the cracked pavement.

Your heart stopped. A man in a blue and black suit, mask covering his head like a second skin.

Your breath caught in your throat. It was him. Not the Mark you knew. Not the friend who made dumb jokes and struggled under the weight of heroism. This Mark was different. This Mark had won.

And then— A rush of wind. A presence behind you. A voice, smooth and amused.

“Now this is interesting.”

You turned too late. A hand clamped around your throat, lifting you off the ground with effortless strength. You gasped, fingers clawing at the hand around your throat. It wasn’t tight enough to choke you—just enough to remind you how easily he could.

Your feet dangled inches above the cracked pavement, your heart hammering against your ribs.

You forced yourself to look at him. Blue mask. Black suit. Eyes like a predator toying with his prey.

Mark. No—not your Mark.

“You should be dead,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, as if trying to make sense of you. His tone was light, almost amused. “I should know—I was the one who killed you.”

Cold horror shot through you.

He wasn’t lying. You could tell by the way he studied you—not with surprise, but recognition. Your mind raced. This wasn’t just another world—you had existed here before.

And you had died at his hands. Your chest tightened. “I—I don’t—” His grip tightened, cutting off your words.

“You begged, you know.” His voice was almost casual, like he was recalling an old memory. “Told me I wouldn’t go through with it.”

His fingers twitched against your skin. His voice dipped lower, almost a whisper. “You were wrong.”

A shudder ran down your spine. You didn’t know if it was fear or something worse. He leaned in slightly, as if waiting for a reaction. When you didn’t break, he chuckled under his breath.

“You always were stubborn.”

Your stomach twisted. He still thinks I’m her.

This was dangerous. You had no idea who the version of you in this world had been, what kind of relationship they had. If you said the wrong thing, if you broke the illusion— He would kill you. You forced your expression to remain blank. “I came back.”

His grip faltered for just a fraction of a second. A moment of hesitation—gone before you could process it.

But it was enough. You had his attention.

His hold on your throat loosened, and then—just as suddenly as he had grabbed you—he let go. You hit the ground, gasping, knees scraping against rough concrete. Above you, he stood still, watching. Assessing. And then— A smirk.

“If you’re lying,” he said, voice dripping with amusement, “I’ll tear you apart all over again.” His grin grew. What a sick fuck!

You swallowed hard. Play along. That’s the only way to survive this. Even if it meant standing at the side of a monster.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he spoke again.

“So tell me—how did you do it? How did you resurrect from the dead?”

He leaned in close, the sharp glow of his red eyes cutting through the dark. You instinctively leaned back, your spine pressing against the cracked pavement, but he followed—closing the distance until your lips were just inches apart. Too close.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, the barely restrained power in his body, the unsettling stillness in the way he hovered over you. He was waiting. Waiting for an answer you didn’t have. Your heart pounded. You had to think fast.

“I…” You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “You killed me.” A statement, not a question. His smirk widened slightly. “Mmm.” A pleased hum, as if savoring the memory. “And it was spectacular.”

Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you tilted your chin up, meeting his gaze head-on. “Then maybe you didn’t do a very good job.”

His fingers twitched at his sides. For a moment, there was silence. And then—he laughed. Low. Amused. Mocking.

“Oh, I missed you.” His gloved fingers brushed your jaw, almost affectionate. “I almost forgot how much I loved that sharp tongue of yours.” You forced yourself not to flinch. Play along. Keep him entertained. That’s the only way to survive. His hand ghosted lower, just barely skimming your throat before he pulled back, straightening up.

“Come on then.” He turned, as if the conversation had never happened. “Let’s see if you’re real.” You hesitated.

“What if I don’t go with you?” He glanced back over his shoulder. A slow, knowing smile stretched across his face. “You don’t have a choice.”

The tension in the air thickened as his words hung between you, the weight of them pressing down, suffocating. There was no escaping this. No negotiating. It was just you and him, and you knew better than to fight back, at least not yet.

You stood, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, your every muscle screaming at you to bolt, to run—but that would only make it worse. You’d learned that the hard way before.

He didn’t wait for you to move. His steps were confident, deliberate, like a predator enjoying the hunt. His voice, still laced with amusement, reached you before he turned the corner.

“Catch up if you can.”

It was a taunt. A challenge.

You followed, though every instinct in you screamed to resist. You weren’t ready for this. You weren’t ready to face the monster he’d become.

He stopped walking abruptly, turning to face you with an eerie calmness that only made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. His gaze was unrelenting, burning into you as though trying to strip away your very soul.

His lips curled into a dark smile, and his voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper.

“You begged me to stop,” he murmured, as if savoring a long-lost memory. “Cried and pleaded for mercy, just like the pathetic little thing you were. Remember? ‘Please, I love you,’ you said. Please, don’t do this.” His voice cracked in mocking imitation, mimicking your past desperation with cruel accuracy. “It was… so beautiful, watching you break. I thought I might never get enough.”

Your pulse spiked, but you fought to keep your expression neutral, to keep him guessing.

“And yet, even in the end,” he continued, his tone sharpening, “you tried to stop me. You thought I’d listen. You thought I could still be the person you knew, the one you controlled.” He shook his head slowly, as if the very idea amused him. “You didn’t get it then, and you sure as hell don’t get it now. I’m not that man anymore. I will never bend to anyone’s rules again.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, the darkness of the alley seeming to close in around you. The walls felt too close, the air too thick, and before you could even react, his hands shot out—gripping your shoulders and pinning you with brutal force against the cold, unforgiving wall. His arms caged you in, leaving you no room to move, no space to breathe.

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, his eyes dangerously intense.

“So tell me,” he hissed, his voice slipping into a dangerous edge. “Who are you really?”

The question hung in the air like a weight you couldn’t escape, suffocating. His gaze flickered over your face, as though searching for a flaw, a crack in the mask you wore. His lips quirked up slightly, as if he knew the answer before you did, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“You’re not her,” he added, voice dripping with disdain. “You don’t feel like her. You’re a stranger wearing her skin. I can see it. The difference in your eyes. The way you move. The way you breathe.”

His fingers dug into your arm, and the pressure sent a surge of pain through you.

“You’re lying. You can’t fool me.”

It didn’t matter if you wanted to fight him. You couldn’t. Not like this. Not against the monster he’d become. He would break you if you tried. And yet, every part of you screamed to hold on, to not let him have the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

But for now, there was only one thing left to do. Keep him talking. Keep him focused on the question, on trying to figure out who you were. Maybe that would buy you enough time to find a way out.

And so you swallowed the bile rising in your throat, your voice cold, as you spoke the only thing that came to mind: “I’m not the one you killed.”

The words hung between you like a bitter aftertaste, each syllable a tightrope of danger. His gaze flickered as he absorbed your confession, his sharp eyes narrowing just slightly. His grip on you loosened a fraction, but it was enough for you to push him away—an instinctive motion, desperate, filled with the weight of every wrong turn that led you here.

You shoved at his chest with all the strength you could muster, the force of the push barely making an impact. His body didn’t even budge, the muscle and power behind him making it feel like you were trying to shove a mountain. But it was something, a sign of defiance—something to hold on to.

“Even if I’m not the one from… whatever this dimension is—you killed me?!” The words shot out of you, a raw, unrelenting accusation. You could feel your heart racing, pulse pounding as the anger surged through you.

But his response was not what you expected.

His smile didn’t return immediately, but something in his eyes flickered. A moment of confusion, perhaps, or something darker creeping in. He stepped back, letting the silence hang for a beat longer than necessary. You couldn’t tell if he was amused or considering your words with a new kind of interest.

“Other dimensions?” he echoed, the question lingering with a strange, unfamiliar edge to his voice. His head tilted, a slow, sinister smile beginning to spread across his face. “Ones that… I could take over, you mean?”

Your heart skipped. This was far from what you’d hoped to avoid. Gods, what had you done?

“How do I access these dimensions?” he asked, his smirk growing again, more wicked, more dangerous now. The shift in his tone sent a cold chill crawling down your spine.

You swallowed, suddenly realizing how much you had just revealed. You should’ve known better than to let that slip. It was a mistake. But it was too late. There was no turning back now.

His thirst for power had always been insatiable, and now, with this new possibility, it could be worse—infinitely worse. He could destroy everything.

You needed to think quickly, to pull back. He was already searching your face for more information, eager for any scrap of knowledge you might have, any opening to feed his growing obsession.

“Look,” you said, your voice shaking but steeled with determination, “I’m not from your world. I’m not the same person you killed. I made a mistake, and now I’m trapped here, in this universe. But that doesn’t mean I know how to control any of it. I don’t even know how I got here.”

His expression remained locked on you, the dangerous curiosity never leaving his eyes.

“But you did just tell me,” he mused, almost thoughtfully. “You mentioned other dimensions, worlds. And if they exist, then there has to be a way to move between them.” He stepped forward, the smirk returning in full force as he closed the distance again, his presence overwhelming.

“You don’t know how, do you?” he taunted, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. “But you will. You’ll find a way to help me access them, won’t you? Because the last thing you want… is for me to start looking for answers myself.”

A twisted gleam danced in his eyes, the hunt beginning anew. His gaze locked onto yours with cold certainty. He was no longer interested in your survival. He only cared about what he could gain.

And in that moment, you realized—this version of him, this monster—had no intention of letting you go.

“You’ll help me,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Whether you want to or not.”

“I can’t help you, not because I don’t want to— well that too— but I also can’t! The tech used wasn’t mine, it was my friends Rudy. I messed with it and now I’m here.” You explained.

A rush of dread washed over you as the words tumbled from his lips. “Damnit, I killed that guy already.”

You froze. Rudy? The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning—this version of him had already killed Rudy. Your stomach churned at the thought, a wave of panic rising in your chest. “You—what? You killed him?”

Your voice cracked, disbelief threading through the words. Rudy wasn’t supposed to be dead. He couldn’t be. But looking at the cruel gleam in Head Cap Invincible’s eyes, you knew it was true. This world wasn’t just a nightmare—it was a graveyard for everyone you cared about.

“Did you—did you kill the other heroes too?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. The words tasted like ash in your mouth.

He shrugged, completely indifferent to your horror. “Oh well… I’ll just wait until they come to collect you and go with them,” he said, almost dismissive, as if his twisted plan was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

The terror inside you deepened, but before you could react, he moved swiftly. In one fluid motion, he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you tightly against his chest. The sudden proximity left you no room to breathe. His body was solid, unyielding—just like his grip on you.

“That just means I have to keep my eyes on you 24/7,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, the words dripping with possessiveness. His hands were firm, locking you in place as he held you tightly against him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the suffocating power of his presence closing in.

You stiffened, your pulse pounding in your ears, every muscle screaming for release, but you knew better than to fight him. Not now.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, your voice shaky but trying to hold onto some semblance of control. “You don’t have to keep me like this.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh, but I do,” he replied, tightening his hold just enough to remind you that he was in charge. “You don’t understand, do you? This is about more than just you, sweet thing. This is about everything.”

You could feel his smirk against your cheek, and his next words were a cold, cruel whisper. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

And as the darkness around you seemed to close in tighter, you realized there was no escaping the nightmare. Not unless you found a way to outsmart him, to break free from the grip of this monster who was now obsessed with you.

The next day passed in a blur of tension and forced calm. He kept you close, never giving you a moment of respite. Every move you made, every breath you took, he was there, watching, waiting. And through it all, his presence never wavered—unrelenting, suffocating.

Now, standing before a large, imposing mansion, you felt the weight of your new reality settling heavily on your chest. The mansion was both beautiful and ominous, its tall, dark walls casting long shadows across the driveway. The windows were darkened, as if even the house itself had been swallowed up by his twisted influence.

“Welcome home!” His voice was loud, cheerful, as if the words were something he had been waiting to say for a long time. You swallowed back the bile rising in your throat, the heavy knot in your stomach refusing to loosen.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The very thought of this place, of what he had turned it into, made you want to scream.

He shot you a wicked grin, the kind of grin that could freeze your blood. “Don’t worry, sweet thing. You’ll share a room with me.” His eyes gleamed, dark and full of menace. “Can’t have you away from me.”

Your stomach dropped. You wanted to push him away, to yell at him to stop, but the last time you tried that, it only made things worse. You were trapped, suffocated by his twisted sense of ownership. There was no escape. Not now. Not here.

He led you through the front doors, the mansion’s interior a lavish maze of marble floors and gold-trimmed walls. The air inside was cool, but it felt thick, as if the mansion itself held its breath. You felt the weight of it all, the oppressive silence hanging like a shroud over everything.

“This place… it’s mine,” he said, as though sensing your unease. “I’ve turned it into something… ours.” He paused, looking down at you with that unsettling smile. “It’ll be our little haven, sweetheart.”

You tried to ignore the icy fingers of dread crawling down your spine as he guided you through the grand halls. There was a twisted sense of pride in his voice, as if he was showing you something you should be grateful for.

When he finally stopped in front of a door, he turned the handle with a flourish and pushed it open. The room was large and dark, with heavy curtains draped over the windows and ornate furniture that seemed to mock the luxury you used to take for granted. It was far from comforting—it felt like a gilded cage.

He stepped inside first, his eyes never leaving you as he gestured to the bed. “Your bed is right here, sweet thing. But don’t worry, I’ll be close by.”

You didn’t need him to tell you that. You could feel his eyes on you like a predator’s, constantly assessing, constantly watching.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, almost too casually, as if he genuinely believed you would. “We’ll spend plenty of time together. You’ll see—this won’t be so bad.” His smirk deepened as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to him. “Come on, sit with me. We’ve got all the time in the world now.”

You stood in the doorway, your heart hammering in your chest, feeling the walls close in around you. You knew the only way to survive this—if you even could—was to play along. To not show weakness, to not let him see the fear he thrived on. But that didn’t make it any easier.

He was already waiting, staring at you with that same unyielding gaze, his hands relaxed but poised, as if he was ready for whatever came next. And you, trapped in the web he had spun around you, had no choice but to step forward into the darkness that had become your prison.

You sat on the bed, your nerves crawling up your spine like a thousand tiny ants, the room too still, too quiet. You could feel his eyes lingering on you, even though he hadn’t said a word. The silence only made the tension between you worse. He was a predator, and you were a cornered animal, trapped in the gilded cage he had built.

Then, with little warning, he disappeared for a moment, leaving you in the heavy stillness of the room. When he returned, he threw a shirt at you with a casual flick of his wrist.

“Put that on,” he ordered. “Much more comfortable than what you have on now.”

You glanced at your tight, form-fitting hero suit, the one that had saved you countless times before. It was durable, practical—but not meant for lounging around a mansion with a madman. You had to admit, you were already starting to feel the uncomfortable weight of your current attire in his presence.

You lifted the shirt, examining it. It was large, black, and clearly designed for comfort. You could already imagine how it would feel against your skin.

“Well?” he prompted again, his voice low and expectant.

Your jaw tightened, and you stood up. The nerve-racking decision to do what he wanted hit you like a punch to the gut. You glared at him. “Turn around.”

He scoffed, as if you’d just told him to do something utterly absurd. “Why? Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Your eyes narrowed. With a snap of your wrist, you grabbed a pillow from the bed and threw it directly at him. His reflexes were fast, and he caught it in mid-air, smirking as if he found this all terribly amusing.

“I won’t tell you again,” you warned, your voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “Turn around.”

He leaned back against the bed’s headboard, raising his arms behind his head in mock relaxation. “Don’t worry,” he teased, his smirk widening. “I’m totally closing my eyes behind these goggles.”

The words dripped with sarcasm, and the mocking tone in his voice made you feel even more exposed. But he wasn’t going to make this easy. He was enjoying it.

With a long, defeated sigh, you turned around, facing the wall. The air felt heavier as you forced yourself to slip out of your hero suit and into the shirt he’d given you. You could feel his gaze burning into your back, his presence suffocating. Every movement felt deliberate, like you were performing for him in this twisted game.

When you finished, the shirt fell to mid-thigh, and you stood there for a moment, taking in the feeling of the fabric that was far too big for you. The way it hung on you, it was almost like a short dress, the hem brushing just above your knees. You couldn’t deny the fact that it felt… different—almost familiar. The thought made you shiver, but it was quickly followed by a sharp whistle from him.

“Damn,” he said, his voice dark and impressed, “looking at you like that almost made me forget why I killed you in the first place.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a sharp sting of anger welling up inside you. The man who had taken everything from you, who had torn apart your world, was now looking at you like some kind of prize. His words were laced with that same sickening amusement.

You gritted your teeth but said nothing. There was nothing to say. Nothing you could do to change what had already happened.

He studied you with a predatory gaze, almost as if he was savoring the moment. “Now that’s more like it,” he muttered under his breath, as if this small shift in the dynamic pleased him in ways you couldn’t even begin to understand.

But that look in his eyes—that hunger—made your stomach twist. You had to keep your wits about you, no matter what he threw your way.

In a flash, he was in his boxers, his movements swift and deliberate, leaving you with no time to react. Now, as he laid there casually, you could get a clear look at his face. It was eerily familiar, the same face as your Mark—but twisted. Darker. More sinister. The sharp features that once held warmth were now cold, calculated. His eyes gleamed with malice, as if daring you to make a move.

He patted the bed beside him with a slow, taunting gesture. “You gonna stand all night, or sleep on a mattress?” His voice was mocking, almost amused by your reluctance. He flopped onto the bed, curling onto his side, his hand supporting his head as he watched you, waiting for you to make your next move.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You hated every second of it. But you couldn’t afford to let your defiance get the better of you—not yet. Pissing him off further could be catastrophic. So, you bit your lip, swallowing down the rush of anger and disgust that threatened to rise in your throat. You didn’t have a choice.

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly slid onto the bed beside him. You made sure to keep as much distance between you as possible, the mattress feeling like a small, fragile barrier between the two of you. Your body tensed, your muscles tight as you tried to steady your breathing, trying not to let your discomfort show.

He didn’t let the moment pass without remark. His gaze flickered over to you, that same smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I told you,” he murmured, “you’re going to get used to being close to me again.”

Your mind raced, thinking of how to escape, how to plan your next move. But for now, all you could do was lie there, staring at the ceiling, the dark weight of the situation pressing down on you. The stillness between you both was suffocating, and as you lay there in silence, you couldn’t help but wonder just how long you could endure this twisted version of your reality.

As you lay there beside him, the tension in the air thickened, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like an unspoken threat. He was too close, his presence far too overwhelming. The room felt smaller, suffocating, as you could feel every breath he took, every movement he made.

His eyes never left you, always watching, always waiting. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and his mere proximity made your pulse quicken in ways you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Comfortable?” His voice was low, almost teasing, as if he could sense the unease rolling off you.

You clenched your jaw but didn’t answer. The less you engaged, the better.

He let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the discomfort you were trying to hide. “You know, I could get used to this. The old you would’ve been more… cooperative.”

You could hear the edge of amusement in his voice, but it only made your stomach churn. This wasn’t the man you used to know—the one you fought beside, the one you trusted. This one was a shadow of that person, someone unrecognizable and filled with malice.

His hand shifted slightly, brushing against your side, just enough to make you tense, his fingers lightly grazing your skin. He smirked, enjoying your reaction.

“Relax,” he teased, though his words didn’t carry any genuine kindness. “I won’t bite… yet.” His voice was soft, almost coaxing, but there was no mistaking the threat that lingered beneath it.

You could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, as if everything in this room was a carefully orchestrated game, and you were the unwilling participant. Every small action, every brush of his fingers, every time his gaze flickered over you—it all felt like a warning, like a constant reminder of how powerless you were in this twisted version of your reality.

You tossed and turned all night, the sheets tangled around you, your mind racing with thoughts of escape, of how to get out of this twisted situation. Sleep wouldn’t come, not with him lying next to you, his presence a constant reminder of everything that was wrong about this world.

Then, his voice sliced through the silence, smooth and mocking, as though he had been waiting for you to crack.

“Can’t sleep?” He teased, his voice too calm, too knowing. You froze, feeling the weight of his gaze on your back, even though you couldn’t see him. “You know, I know something that always used to work.”

You bit your lip, trying to control your growing irritation. “You’re not my boyfriend, so—shut up.”

He chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying the rise he got out of you. “Aren’t I though?” His voice dropped lower, the mocking edge sharper now. “I mean… we used to date—well, the alternative version of you. Kinda the same thing, no?”

You could almost feel the smirk in his words. Your chest tightened at the reminder of the past that wasn’t your past. Your Mark had been your Mark—the one you trusted, the one you fought beside. But this man? This monster? He was nothing like the one you remembered.

“No, it’s not!” You sat up, your heart pounding, eyes burning with frustration. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, trying to ward off the uncomfortable mix of emotions rising inside you. “I miss my Mark—not you.”

His response was almost too quick, and you could feel the shift in the atmosphere. His laughter was low and dark, almost dangerous. “You miss him, huh?” He sounded almost too pleased with himself, and when you glanced over at him, you saw the way his lips curled into a wicked smile.

“But here’s the thing, sweet thing,” he continued, his voice suddenly colder, sharper. “You’re stuck with me now. And if you think your Mark’s coming to save you… well, you might just want to rethink that.”

You hated how his words sent a chill down your spine, but you refused to let him see your fear.

You felt a chill run through you at his words, but before you could even react, he was on you. His lips crashed onto yours with a force that stole the breath from your lungs. It wasn’t a kiss of affection—no, it was possessive, claiming, like he was marking you as his, a reminder of the twisted reality you were trapped in.

For a moment, you froze, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind screaming for you to pull away, to fight back. But his grip was unyielding, his presence overwhelming. You could feel the heat of his body, the power radiating off him, suffocating you.

When he finally pulled back, you were left breathless, staring at him with wide eyes. The smirk on his face told you everything—you were nothing more than a prize to him now, something to be claimed, to be controlled.

“You might as well forget about him, sweet thing,” he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re mine now.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You couldn’t think, couldn’t process everything that had just happened. All you could do was stare at him, fury and confusion warring inside you. This wasn’t your Mark. This wasn’t the man you knew. This was someone else—someone far darker, far more dangerous.

The taste of his kiss still lingered on your lips, making your skin crawl, and you could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air like an oppressive cloud. His gaze bore into you, dark and knowing, a glint of something sinister flickering behind his eyes.

You forced yourself to breathe, your chest rising and falling with each frantic breath. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words affected you. You wouldn’t—couldn’t—let him win.

But the more you stared at him, the more you realized the truth: he was right. For now, you were trapped. There was no Mark to save you, no escape, no way out. Not yet, anyway.

He reclined against the pillows, arms behind his head, his body sprawled out in a casual dominance that made your skin itch. “You know, sweet thing,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “I’ve always loved this about you. The fire. The fight.” He rolled onto his side, his eyes scanning you, sharp and predatory. “It makes breaking you… so much more fun.”

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms. “I’m not broken.” Your voice was quiet but firm, the defiance still there, no matter how small it seemed in comparison to his overwhelming presence.

He chuckled darkly, his gaze never leaving you. “Not yet, you’re not. But you will be.” The words were like a promise, a warning you couldn’t escape.

His smile widened, the cruel edge to it clear. He was enjoying this—all of this—your discomfort, your struggle. The room felt colder, and the silence between you grew heavier, suffocating.

“Come on now,” he coaxed, reaching out toward you, his fingers brushing the edge of your arm. “Don’t look at me like that. We could have a lot of fun together, you know. Maybe you just need to… relax.”

You flinched slightly at his touch, recoiling before you could stop yourself. His smile faded for a split second, but his amusement never did.

“You don’t get it,” you spat, your voice thick with anger and frustration. “You’re not my Mark, and you never will be. You can’t replace him.”

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense, the glimmer of danger in his eyes sharpening. “I don’t need to replace him.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m better than him.”

Your stomach twisted, the bitter taste of his words settling deep inside you. You couldn’t tell whether he believed it or if it was just part of his sick game, but either way, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t break you—not like this.

He spread your legs, going between them, “so what do you say, sweet thing? Will you still have that fight even if I fuck it out of you?” You felt your face heat up at his words, you slapped him as hard as you could, but it remained ineffective. “That’s it, that’s the fire I can’t wait to see burn away,” he ripped off her shirt, and she quickly covered her chest. “What the— hey! Stop that!” He pins her arms to her sides, “just like before huh…” he said more to himself.

He grabbed your breast in one hand, rolling your nipple in with his fingers, “you were always sensitive here, glad to see that hasn’t changed.” He said with that grin of his. You moan as he sucks on one, palming the other breast with his other hand. Your hands go to his hair, tugging and squirming beneath him. “Mark!”

He suddenly stopped, releasing his mouth with a pop sound, “say my name again.” You shook your head, he frowned, “hm, fine be that way.” He thrusted his fingers inside, slipping in two easily because of how wet you have become. Embarrassingly so. You moaned, biting your lip and gripping at the sheets, “wait! Mark im gonna—“

“I know sweet thing, cum for me” he whispered in her ear, and you came with a cry. He smirked againist your neck, and removed his fingers, replacing them with his cock almost immediately. You gasp, holding into his shoulders, “Mark!”

Your legs were held by him as he continued his brutal thrusts, he grunted, watching your breast bounce from the movement. He watched as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The head board slammed into the wall, and the room shook with terrifying force. He wasn’t gentle, not compared to your mark, who was so sweet. This one was rough, and he thrusted with a purpose, to prove a point, to show how helpless you are. Proven by how you cried out his name, begging for more yet telling him to stop, orgasming again and again.

The night stretched on in unsettling silence. The exhaustion from the tension, the fear, the constant fight inside you, finally overtook your resolve. Your body, despite your best efforts to stay alert, succumbed to sleep. You didn’t remember exactly when you drifted off, but the comfort of the bed—distant as it seemed—lulled you into a restless slumber.

While you slept, the air in the room shifted again. It was subtle, but he was still awake, watching you.

Slowly, his fingers moved, tracing the outline of your body with a practiced ease. It was gentle at first, almost tender, but there was a coldness to it—like a predator savoring the moment before striking.

As his fingers moved down the curve of your side, you remained unaware, lost in the haze of your dreams, and a small, satisfied smirk curled onto his lips.

“Told you it would work,” he murmured softly to himself, his voice low, just loud enough for you to hear in your half-conscious state. The words were a sickening reminder of the game he played, his ownership, his control over the situation.

His hand lingered just a moment longer before he pulled it away, enjoying the subtle shift in the room that came with his touch—the way your body tensed slightly, though you didn’t wake.

He leaned back, still watching you, the darkness in his eyes a constant reminder of the twisted reality you were now stuck in. And in the quiet of the room, his smirk remained, the satisfaction of his control evident in every move he made.

As you slept, the nightmare never truly ceased—it only shifted forms.

[selfloverrrrrr]

Hello !! Could I request a Geto fic where the reader, years after leaving Jujutsu High because Geto manipulated them into abandoning everyone for him and after living alone for a long time with and marrying Geto, whose a cult leader now finally realizes that Geto manipulated them and made a plan to abandon him without him knowing. However, unfortunately for them, Geto found out before they can fulfill the plan and he stops them from doing so.

Tricking me?

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

I should’ve seen it earlier. The way his words were laced with honey, dripping with devotion, yet underneath, they coiled like vines, tightening around me until escape was nothing but a forgotten dream... He always lied to me! He said that the jujitsu tech isn't really helping the people... They're just pretending to.... He'll be the one to help all those innocent people.

And all this time he was doing the exact opposite? He's been killing all innocent people....using my help...?! For years, I stood by his side, believing in his cause—because he made me believe. He made me think it was my choice. Leaving Jujutsu High, leaving Gojo, Shoko.... abandoning everything and everyone who once mattered. Because he mattered more. At least, that’s what I thought.

But the truth was a bitter pill, jagged and tearing through the illusions he built around me. Geto never freed me; he owned me. And the moment I realized that? I decided to run. But Geto Suguru does not lose what belongs to him that easily. One night I decided to make a plan to escape from him. I spent weeks planning my escape. Every night, I pretended nothing had changed....

That I was still the same person who followed Geto without question. But inside, I was counting the days, the minutes, until I could finally be free. I finally contacted Gojo and shoko....after yearsss. We had planned everything carefully. One night, just before midnight, Gojo would be waiting in the middle of the road outside the city—far enough from Geto’s people, close enough for me to reach unnoticed. Once I got to him, there would be no turning back.

That night came. I received the call quickly.

Gojo: hello?

Y/n: yeah

Gojo: I'm on the spot you told me to wait. I'm in my car...where are you?

Y/n: I'm still here coming out now...stay there I need five minutes.

Gojo: okay come as soon as possible.

The call ended.

The moment I stepped out of the compound, I saw THE shadow. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I felt the presence behind me....silent, calculating. Before I could react, a hand wrapped around my wrist in a bruising grip. "Going somewhere, Y/N?" A cold whisper. I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The weight of his words, slow and taunting, sent ice through my veins. Geto Suguru was standing right behind me.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm. "I was just—" "Lying?" he cut me off smoothly, his voice a dark amusement. "Let me guess… heading somewhere in the middle of the road, where a certain white-haired man is waiting for you?" My stomach dropped. He knows?! "Of course I do" He said as if he can hear my thinking. “You weren’t really going to leave me, were you?” he asked.

My blood turned to ice. Slowly, I turned, only to be met with his gaze—deep, dark, endless. Not the warm devotion he once showed me, but something deeper, something broken. Something obsessed. His hands and cheeks are covered with blood. "Just killed a whole village...I called you but you didn't pick up...and what did I see here?...you didn't pick my call and talking with SOMEONE ELSE" He said with a chuckle. His hand was still griping my waist tightly. “Geto…” my voice was barely a whisper. He smiled. It should’ve comforted me like it always did. But it definitely didn’t this time.

Because I knew Geto Suguru. I can feel he's no longer trying to pretend to be the man who worshipped me with gentle and soft words. And is that scary? Oh no no no.... That's worse than scary. His grip on my wrist tightened, fingers pressing into my skin like shackles, and I could feel the bruises forming already. There was no more room for pretending. No more soft-spoken lies wrapped in false devotion.

His eyes, sharp as a predator’s, drank in my fear, and something inside him twisted with satisfaction. “You’re trembling,” he murmured, voice dangerously smooth. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair from my face, deceptively gentle. “Are you scared of me, Y/N?”he asked. I forced myself to meet his gaze, to bite down the terror clawing at my throat. "Let me go, Geto." My voice wavered, but I refused to back down.

His expression didn’t change, but the amusement in his eyes sharpened into something darker. “Let you go?” he repeated, as if tasting the words on his tongue. Then he laughed—low, bitter. “Is that what you told Satoru? That you need saving?” he asked. My heart lurched at the mention of Gojo. He stepped closer, forcing me back against the cold stone wall of the compound. His presence consumed the air around me, suffocating.

“Did you tell him how much you trusted me?” he whispered, his breath ghosting over my skin. “How you stood by my side, believing in me, choosing me over him?” he asked in a cold whisper. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stand firm. "I was wrong," I spat, defiance cutting through the fear. "You used me." I said. Something flickered in his gaze—something violent.

His fingers slid from my wrist to my jaw, tilting my face up toward his. His touch was firm, possessive, as if daring me to pull away. “Wrong?” he echoed, mockingly. “You think you belonged to Jujutsu High? That they would’ve fought for you the way I did?” he said. “I never belonged to you,” I hissed. His grip tightened just enough to make me gasp. “Oh, you do,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something far more menacing. His other hand slid to my waist, pressing against me, unyielding. “And I think it’s time you remember that.” he declared.

Suddenly my phone rang. My blood turned cold. Before I can react Geto snatched my phone from my pocket. He looked at it.... Then smirked. "As I thought" He said and picked up the call. He put it on speaker.

Gojo: y/n? Where are you? It's been 15 minutes.

Geto: it's not good for try to steal other's property, Satoru.

Gojo:...... Suguru.

Geto: glad you remember.

Gojo: Suguru let her go... Don't force her to stay. You told me you won't force anyone.

Geto: *laughs* you're funny, satoru.... You know damn well I'm not gonna let her go.

Gojo: look it was my plan. I convinced her to leave. Don't hurt her!

Geto: *chuckle*

Gojo: hello? .... Hello??? Suguru??? Where are you? Don't hurt her. Don't hur-

Call ended.

I felt like I forgot how to breathe. Panic surged through me as he leaned in, his lips just a breath away from mine, a cruel imitation of the moments we once shared. My hands pressed against his chest, pushing, struggling—his body didn’t budge. “I loved you,” he said, and it was almost a whisper. But there was nothing tender in it. Nothing soft. Only something hollow, something desperate, something that had long since rotted into something else. "I still do."

And then, before I could scream, before I could run.... He choked me. He dragged me towards his by my neck. I'm slapping on his arms. But his grip remains steady. As we were inside his room.... He threw me inside. The door clicked shut behind me. "take off your shirt" he whispered. "W-what?" I said. "Take. Off. Your. Shirt." He repeated. "Geto, why are you -" I tried to speak but he cut it off. "You still asking me WHY? that's funny you know...." he said with a smug smile. "Geto please" I said turning my head to the side to look at him.

"I didn't just kept you with me because I wanted to use your powers......I wanted you...always" he said with a smirk. "I don't like waiting you know that y/n" He said. "I don't want this" I begged. "Too bad....should have thought about this before planing from running away from me" He whispered. I slowly unbuttoned my shirt and took it off revealing my bra underneath. My hands were shaking. Gojo and shoko are searching for where I am they maybe gonna find me soon I should clam down. Because I know damn well how much of a worst man Geto can be. he looked at my clivage then again at my eyes. He leaned towards me.

He's getting too close. Both of our faces are too close! He's staring at my lips. I slightly leaned back to keep distance but He leaned towards me more. While I was trying to keep distance I fell on my back on the bed. He didn't give a second and leaned over me on the bed. Caging me underneath him with his two arms. He leaned forward to kiss me. I closed my eyes shut. I don't want to see it.

He pressed his lips on mine. It was a soft kiss. I opened my eyes. "F-fuck" He whimpered. He grabbed my head and started kissing me wildly. He's acting like an animal. "Mmmm... S-stop... Mmhp" I tried to speak. He managed to push his tongue inside my mouth. It felt weird. It was my first time getting kissed by someone.

He pulled away. He was panting. He chuckled then started laughing. He looked so scary. I wanna run from there. "You're so gorgeous.... " He spoke. "How the hell can I let anyone else have you?!?!?!" He said. "G-Geto.... Can I go.... P-please" I asked. Almost at the edge of crying. This is getting worse. "Do you think I made you take off your clothes so that you can leave?" He asked Mockingly.

He licked my breast all of a sudden. "Take off your bra" He said. "I don't wanna...." I said. Tears started gathering in my eyes. "That was not a question. I. Said. Take. Off. Your. Bra." He said coldly. "Fine. I'll do it myself" He said and with a swift motion he undid my bra. "Gosh.... It was hard to just watch these from your half closed window all these days" He said.

He's been watching me?! I never knew? So that's why he also knows when I planned to run away? He didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned from the sensation. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even affect him. "G-Geto stopppp" I screamed but he didn't stop.

He's desperately rubbing his crotch on the mattress. "You look so hot" He Mumbled. He grabbed my shorts and tried to take them off. "Come on.... Spread your legs" He said. But I didn't. I kept my legs closed. "Still being so stubborn huh?" He said. He grabbed my legs and pushed them open. I knew he was way stronger than me. I cried out loudly.

"No panties? Seriously? That much excited to get fucked by my dick?" He said and chuckled. "Who am I to make you wait? " He said and quickly took off his pants. His dick standing proud. Precum leaking from the red tip. He spread my legs wide with his hands. I felt too scared.

"G-Geto no no no... P-please no... s-stop" I begged but didn't even listen to me. He lined himself and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I screamed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thrusting in and out roughly. I was throwing my legs from pain and begging him to stop. And he liked it so much. His thrust became harder and harder. I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb.

I bit his shoulder and scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thrust I came. He was still thrusting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh...no please no....ahhhhhh..... n-not ahhhh.....not inside... please please.... please Geto I'm begging you....you're not even using protection" I told him between hiccups. He grabbed my throat and chocked me down to the bed.

"Isn't that more fun?" He said calmly with a smirk. I couldn't even believe what was happening to me. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. My vision blurred out. "Lemme take you to our another home.... They are coming to take you here... Can't let that happen" He whispered and kissed my forehead.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💗

[loveln4]

CHARLES LECLERC x OLD FRIEND!READER

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

- Hozier, Like Real People Do

synopsis: Charles Leclerc bumps into an old acquaintance and spends the summer with her.

warnings: mentions of lestappen lmao

Italy was beautiful. It was her first time there and she was traveling alone.

She had visited the local gelato shops, grabbing the most unique of flavors. Rose, caramelized fig, and salted pistachio raspberry.

She was on her fourth cone when she spotted him. Y/n had to do a double take to make sure it really was him.

He was looking down a fruits, a bag of flowers in his hand. She poked his ribs, and he turned confused by this action. He didn’t know who she was until her perfume reached his nose.

“Ciao.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “How’ve you been?”

They hugged longer than they should’ve. Charles didn’t want to let go of her, aching to touch something so familiar. Something untouched by the somber years he had after she left. She was something happy.

Walking down the main street together, they didn’t say a word to each other, not until they sat down at a small family owned restaurant to eat lunch.

“How is your mother?” She said, gently picking up her ice cold beverage and drinking it. Her french was weak as she hadn’t lived in Monaco for long, leaving after six years.

Charles was so entranced by her face that he didn’t answer immediately. “She— she’s well.” Y/n looked different from when they had last seen each other, but she was the same girl he met in that art museum on a Saturday morning.

“That’s good.” They fell into silence, unsure of what to say next. “How’s racing?”

He lightly smiled and replied with a shrug, “It’s—It isn’t what i expected.”

“Why’s that?” She tilted her head. “From what i’ve seen you’ve been doing well.”

This gained Charles’ full attention. “You’ve been watching me race?”

“Here and there whenever i’m with my friend. He’d have it playing on the tv when i’m over.” The waiter had placed down their food, “Thank you.”

He? Charles was jealous, which was unusual. He hadn’t seen her for 9 years, and the old feelings he had for have rushed back. “He is a fan?” He said after taking a bite of his meal, “What team?”

“Ferrari, though you aren’t his favorite…”

“Huh.”

“What does ‘huh’ mean?” She giggled at this.

“Just that i’m more handsome than my teammate.” He cockily said, leaning back with his hands behind his head. “Don’t get me wrong, Carlos is attractive, but uh…have you seen me?” Charles wiggled his brows.

This made her burst out laughing. “Remember when I called you the prettiest boy i’ve ever seen? You still are.” Her laughter died down, “You look good, Charles.”

“You—you look heavenly.” He said, forearms resting on the table. He cleared his throat to clear the air forming between them, “What—uh, where are you staying?”

Y/n opened the door to her airbnb. It was an open house with large windows that were easy to open and close, a backyard that leads to the ocean, and a beautiful bedroom. The bed’s covers was embroidered with many colours, the pillows white with gold accents.

“This is very you.” He said as he looked around, “Very, very you.” He whispered as he touched a small canvas that she brought with her from back home.

“Good, because i wouldn’t have wanted to buy a house that didn’t represent me.”

“You bought this?” He asked stunned.

“Mhm,” She hummed in response. “I needed to move from home. I needed something different.” Y/n picked up a large canvas and hung it on a wall, “I couldn’t think of anything to paint, so i decided to move somewhere with unfamiliar surroundings.”

“Maybe you should move back to Monaco, couple of things have changed.” He suggested, leaning back against her kitchen counter, “Mum would be happy to see you again.”

“First of all, you just want me close. Secondly, i’d really like to see her again.”

As the night went on they laughed at their shared memories, “Remember when you kissed Max?” Y/n asked Charles, laughing in his face at the memory.

“I thought it was you!” He exclaimed as he stirred the sauce in the pot. “It was dark—like, really dark. And I could smell your fresh, clean perfume, and so when I saw a figure I—i just turned the person—who i thought was you! And just kissed them.”

She perched on her tippy toes and whispered near his ear, “With tongue, i heard.”

Charles groaned and covered his face but quickly recovered, “Well i do speak French after all.”

“You aren’t french though.”

He rolled his eyes and in french said, “You know what i mean.”

“Show me what you mean.” She muttered to herself in french while washing the dishes.

Little did she know; he heard that.

Charles’ pasta was good.

Not great, not scrumptious.

Just good.

“Lorenzo has always been a better cook than you.” Y/n said as she slurped up the last strands of spaghetti.

Charles scoffed at her insult, “Well, if you’re any better you could’ve helped.”

“Ha! But if I helped than i wouldn’t have been able to taste your horrible pasta.”

Charles has probably rolled his eyes more than ten times the entire night due to y/n’s stupid insults, but it made him happy.

It gave him joy that he was trying so hard to feel these past couple years.

Y/n and Charles washed dishes, cleaned the benches, and threw out the rest of the pasta because that wasn’t food that anybody could eat.

Charles began to grab his things, the flowers he carried were now wilted and somber. He was about to exit when something made him turn around to face y/n.

“You need me to stay over?” He asked her.

She started to nod, “Yes. I do need you to stay over.”

And so he did. They spent the rest of the night giggling, painting and eventually, when it came to resting; they slept in the same bed.

A/N: needed something fun and nice because i haven’t been in the best mood recently (as some could tell..). I hope you enjoyed this one and remember:

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[brawberryz]

⎯⎯ㅤMy Neighbor Totoro

⎯⎯ㅤBatfam Yan! × Totoro! Reader

《Platonic》

Note / English is not my first language / Reader is not based on Totoro, but on one of the protagonists of the film.

TW / yandere behaviors, obsession, isolation, stalking, manipulation, slight mention of death, yandere themes

A New Beginning

Or so your siblings said. After your parents died, all your siblings decided to move to a small town.

It was a house far from almost everything; the only thing surrounding it were trees and vegetation.

And if you were honest, you didn't complain. There was plenty of space to play, and Damian and I started growing vegetables and planting flowers.

Although the house seemed very old and dirty, it felt very cozy to you.

You always spent time outside running and jumping around the place. Sometimes you would ask Damian to join you, and he would reluctantly agree.

But you had noticed that since your parents' death, they had become much more overprotective of you.

You couldn't stray too far from home, and you weren't allowed to talk to anyone unless you wanted to be grounded.

But that didn't stop you. You were very young and immature.

From a very young age, you always had that adventurous and curious spirit. Break the rules

But your greatest wish was always to climb and explore the enormous tree next to your home.

When you told Richard about your idea, his respect was a big no.

"Sorry, (Name), it's too dangerous,"

Richard said, not paying much attention to your pleas to go explore the big tree.

"But—"

Before you could speak again, Richard quickly interrupted you.

"I'm not going to repeat that again, (Name), no means no, do you understand?"

He gave you that look that made your whole body shiver slightly.

You looked down as you let out a defeated sigh and pouted.

Richard's chest tightened as soon as he saw your mood; he thought he'd been too hard on you.

He bent down to your level, gave your shoulder a light squeeze, and then spoke.

"I know you like exploring and all, but it's too dangerous if you go alone. I don't want to lose you (name)... not like I lost them."

You just nodded, gave you a light pat on the head, and then went back to what you were doing.

You thought you'd get lucky with your other siblings if you asked.

But they all had the same answer: "No."

At this point, you were seriously considering giving up; your dream of exploring that enormous tree was shattered.

You decided to go out into the yard and explore the surroundings as you always did.

As you walked, you found a couple of acorns on the ground. A little strange, but a few days ago, some acorns mysteriously appeared outside or inside the house.

The others didn't pay much attention and just said that they were most likely just squirrels living on top of the house.

You put the acorns in your pants pocket, but something caught your attention. You saw something white moving through the grass.

You tilted your head, confused, wondering what it was.

And then you saw some kind of white creature come out of the grass. It was very small and looked like some kind of fat cat that walked on two legs.

Your eyes shone with admiration and surprise. It was the first time you had seen something so tender and cute.

You saw the little creature walk past you without flinching, you were literally watching it.

Out of pure curiosity, you started to follow it and see where it was going.

You weren't going to waste this opportunity. You had too many questions, and you were going to find the answers.

The little creature turned to look at you. You gave him a small smile and watched as he started walking faster.

You instinctively started walking faster too. Before you could get any closer, you saw the small white creature disappear before your eyes.

It's like it's become invisible, weird.

You started looking around but couldn't find anything. You squinted a little to see better, and then you saw it.

It was almost transparent, but your eyes could still see it.

You started chasing it again, and it was only a matter of time before the creature realized you were chasing it.

It started running faster. You treated it like a race, so you started running even faster.

You weren't going to let that strange creature escape you.

They continued like that for a few seconds. Maybe that little guy was fast, but you were even faster.

When you were about to reach it, the creature went down the stairs. You ducked to reach it, but the space was too small, but you still didn't give up.

You were able to get inside a little and stick your head out. It was too dark, but you still saw a small figure moving toward a small exit.

You quickly got up and headed to the other end. There was a small entrance, and you thought the little creature would come out through there.

You crouched down and waited patiently.

A few seconds passed, and nothing happened. You were about to give up before you heard something fall.

You quickly turned your head and saw the little white creature, but it wasn't alone.

Next to it was another creature, a little larger than the other and navy blue.

You saw that the biggest one was carrying a bag full of acorns; therefore, it was responsible for the acorns.

As soon as they saw you notice them, they started running.

You quickly got up and started chasing them.

You weren't going to let them get away so easily.

You were so focused on catching them that you didn't realize you'd entered the small forest, which all your siblings had clearly told you not to enter.

You had a hard time chasing them, as the place was quite steep.

You had to be careful with the branches and roots that They were sticking out of the ground and were lying on the floor.

You fell a couple of times, scraping your elbows and knees, but that didn't matter to you.

Your clothes were covered in dust and dirt, and your hair was a mess. You didn't even know how long you'd been chasing those things.

But you stopped as soon as you saw the enormous tree in front of you. You saw those little creatures enter a hole in the enormous tree.

You tried to look further inside, but you slipped, causing you to fall into that hole.

You began to fall down a small tunnel, twisting and turning. You felt like you were going to throw up, and you hadn't even had lunch yet.

As soon as you hit the ground, you felt your head spinning and you were dizzy.

The space where you fell was medium-sized, but it was filled with vegetation.

You began to look around the place with excitement until you saw a huge creature lying in a small hole in the wall.

This The creature was different from the rest; it was black and had bat-like wings.

It was also quite large, perhaps the size of a bus.

You stroked one of its wings; they were quite soft.

You saw how it moved at your touch. You continued touching its wings since they were very soft, as soft as your pillows.

Out of pure curiosity, you hung onto one of its wings. Before you could react, the creature began to turn around.

Luckily, you were able to move quickly before it crushed you. You ended up on top of it.

There, you were able to get a closer look. It seemed to be some kind of strange bat; its fur was very soft.

It might have seemed intimidating to others, but in your eyes, it was the cutest creature you'd ever seen.

It seemed to be asleep, but your touch woke it up.

You saw how it opened its eyes slightly and stared at you for a few seconds.

You gave it an excited smile. The strange creature yawned. Then go back to sleep.

It didn't seem to mind your presence. You decided to lie down on its furry chest, and it was quite comfortable.

It felt like you were sleeping on cotton wool; your body was too tired from running around too much.

Besides, you didn't think you'd be able to move properly for a while because of the wounds on your knees and elbows.

You quickly fell asleep on top of the creature. A part of you told yourself not to trust it too much, as it could be dangerous.

But you were too tired to think clearly.

As your eyes closed, you could feel one of its wings cover your tired body.

_

You woke up in your bed, quite confused, and thought it was all a dream.

But the small bandages on your elbows and knees said otherwise.

Before you could process everything that was happening, you felt someone pounce on you.

You felt Richard hug you tightly as he worriedly asked you what had happened.

You just lied and said you had fallen. Okay, it wasn't completely a lie, but you couldn't tell him you had gone without permission to that place you were specifically told not to go.

Since that incident, everyone had become more possessive of you.

Your hours of going outside and playing, which had previously been unlimited, were now only 3 to 2 hours.

You always had one of your brothers watching you closely; you couldn't allow his beloved little sister to get hurt again.

In his eyes, you were too fragile and innocent for this horrible world, so you had to stay close to them.

You don't need to. No one, just them.

But you still managed to sneak away from them to visit your new friend.

You had named him 'Batman'.

What an original name.

You always collected lots of acorns for him and his little friends; you were like a personal little acorn collector.

You kept it a secret, until one day Damian discovered you and secretly followed you.

He had suspected for a long time that something was wrong.

So one day, he followed you without you knowing. He was very surprised when he saw the large creature you were visiting.

You swore that at that moment, Damian almost fainted from the shock.

You begged him not to tell anyone; you convinced him that 'Batman' wasn't bad.

Hesitating a bit, he decided to listen to you. From that moment on, he asked Richard to be the one to watch over you.

Richard finally agreed. From that moment on, you and Damian began visiting 'Batman'.

You used to sleep on top of him since the big creature was sleeping all the time.

While Damian lay next to him while he drew or did his homework, you could say his sketchbook was full of sketches and drawings of the furry creature.

Little did you know, 'Batman' was starting to grow fond of you.

And that affection turned into an obsession.

At night, he would send one of those little creatures to watch over you while you slept. I just want you to be safe!

Not only did you have your family overprotecting you all the time.

But now you had some kind of magical creature obsessed with you.

You're so unlucky.

Re-uploading this shit after a long time

(Sorry if I didn't add my girls Barbara, Cass, and Steph, but this was a request specifically asking for Batboys, sorry :(

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Spencer and His Popstar Girlfriend

Summary: Spencer had always kept his love life on the down low at work. Well, that was until he started dating one of the most influential artists in the music industry...

Inspired by Busy Woman by Sabrina Carpenter (which has been played on repeat for the past month or so...)

1k words

Spencer had always kept his love life on the down low when he was at work. They only found out about Maeve about a month or so before she tragically died. There was the mess and torture that was Cat. Nothing really happened with Max.

He never thought he would ever settle down, find someone to love and love him in return.

But then he met Y/N, and that all got turned on its head.

When he first met her, completely by accident. Unsurprisingly in a coffee shop. He had accidentally bumped into her as she was leaving, and he was picking up his coffee, but it was her drink that went down his shirt.

"Oh my God! I am so sorry!" She exclaimed, setting her now empty cup down as she reached over for some napkins and started dabbing at the stain on his shirt.

"Oh!" Spencer jumped; after all the years of working with Penelope (who was like an animated hug machine), he still wasn't used to the touch of other people. "I-It's okay," he stuttered.

The young woman with the incredible curls pulled away for a moment. "I can get it dry cleaner for you, if you want? It was my fault after all," she says.

Spencer shook his head. "No, I wouldn't want to put you out."

She giggles a little. "You wouldn't be putting me out. It was my drink that landed on your shirt."

They exchanged a few more words before exchanging names and phone numbers so she could pick up his shirt after work, and then give it back to him when it was clean.

Little did they know, that moment would be the start of their relationship.

Spencer never interfered with Y/N's songwriting (despite being the inspiration for a song or two that had gotten pretty high up the charts). Likewise, although she knew what Spencer did for work, she never asked for in-depth details on the cases he solved.

What he didn't know, was her song Espresso, which she had written 'just for fun' - it turned out to be a massive hit. Catapulting her into the spotlight.

So much so that even Penelope and JJ at work had heard her song. Which wasn't unusual, Penelope had played a few of her songs before. But, Espresso was being played on a continuous loop (which makes Spencer think Penelope had a fairly big hand in getting the song to the number 1 spot).

"JJ!" He heard Penelope call from her den, waving over the resident genius. "I got the special edition of Y/N's album! You need to hear this one!" She exclaimed, dragging her fellow blonde into the den.

When Spencer heard the intro to his current favourite song on her album (she has yet to play him the duet she was working on and was going absolutely crazy over whenever she came home), he couldn't help but smile a little on the inside.

"I'm so mature, collected and sensible, except when I'm hit with rejection. To turn me down, that's just unethical, I'll turn into someone you're scared to know," Spencer's girlfriend sings.

"But if you need my love, my clothes are off, I'm comin' over to your place! And if you don't need, my love, I didn't want your little bitch-ass anyway! Yeah, I'm a busy woman, I wouldn't let you come into my calendar any night. But if you want my kisses, I'll be your perfect Mrs. 'til the day that one of us dies," In the last line, Spencer couldn't help but smile to himself; after Maeve died, he never thought he would love again, but Y/N turned all that he thought on its head. As he could very easily see himself spending the rest of his life with her - if she wanted.

"Busy woman, all the time. Busy woman," Spencer couldn't help but sing it to himself under his breath. Which happened to catch the attention of Penelope.

Penelope made her way out of her den before Spencer could open the glass doors to the BAU. "Spencer Reid, you march yourself back here, right now," she demanded.

Spencer slowly turned around like he was an unsub and looked slightly wide-eyed between JJ and Penelope. "Morning," he greets.

Penelope wafts her hands to stop him from speaking any further. "How is it possible you know that sing? It was released this morning. More to the fact, you don't like pop music, you like classical music written by old dead white guys," she states.

JJ took a few steps closer. Analysing Spencer's face with her sharp eye. "Have you noticed how happy Spencer has been recently?" She questioned, which was answered by a sassy butter of "Thanks, JJ," from Spencer.

"Yeah, he has. And it has something to do with..."

Busted.

"Are you seeing one of the producers that worked on her album?" Penelope asked.

Maybe not...

"I wouldn't have thought producers could play songs to people not working on the album, Pen," JJ comments, turning around to look at the blonde.

Well, the cat is escaping from its bag. Might as well let it loose.

"It's not one of the producers I'm seeing..." he trails off, leaving them with that, wondering if the pair could possibly (easily) work it out.

Not two seconds later, just as he had set his bag down on his desk, Penelope came flying into the bullpen. "Oh my God!" She shrieked loudly, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

Emily had come rushing out of her office, hearing the commotion. "Penelope? What are you doing?"

Penelope was practically vibrating with excitement. "Spencer's got a girlfriend!" She loudly declared the poor man's face flushed bright red.

Tara couldn't contain the cheer as Matt clapped Spencer on the back. "Atta boy, Reid," he says.

"Who is it?" Emily asked, leaning over the railing and looked down into the bullpen she once occupied.

"The popstar Y/N! The one that did the song Espresso!" Penelope says, not giving Spencer a word in edgeways.

Tara raises an eyebrow at Spencer, wondering how it was possible he could have met the new global pop star who could possibly be in the running for a Grammy! "I met her in a coffee shop, her drink spilt on my shirt," he explains.

Penelope clasps her hands over her heart. "Oh my God, a meet-cute!" Spencer looks at Penelope, confused over the word.

[furioussheepluminary]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥

Pairing: ex!FBIagent!Chan x FBIagent!afab!reader, reluctant allies to friends, fake relationship

Synopsis: he died. Everyone believed he did. But you found out. And whether you like it or not, keeping you alive is now his job.

Chapter Synopsis: on escaping from the Russians, chan takes it upon himself to help you with the info you need. In exchange you learn more about him in the strangest ways.

Warnings: slow burn, violence, weapons, gore? a bit yeah, sarcastic Chan, ft. Jisung and Lix, mentions of Minho, time skips because why not?

A/n: Also, I think at one point I had a problem with the times of day...but I tried my best to make it sync. If you have extra eyes for errors, no you don't. So not proofread.

previously...

The motel lobby was dimly lit, the old fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. Chan stepped up to the reception desk, his fingers drumming lightly against the wooden counter as the night clerk barely looked up from his phone.

"One room. Just for the night," Chan said, voice low and firm.

The clerk gave him a once-over, his gaze flicking to Y/N, who stood just behind him. She could feel the man sizing them up, probably making his own assumptions about the situation. Chan didn’t seem to care. He pulled out a few crumpled bills from his pocket, slid them across the counter, and within seconds, a key was pushed toward him in return.

"Room 207," the clerk mumbled before going back to his phone.

Chan didn’t wait. He grabbed the key, gave a subtle nod in Y/N’s direction, and started walking. She followed him down the hall, her mind racing as she took in her surroundings. The hallway smelled of stale air and cheap cleaning supplies, the faded carpet muffling their footsteps. When they reached the room, Chan unlocked the door and pushed it open, flicking on the light. The room was exactly what was expected—two twin beds, a small wooden table with a single chair, a flickering TV mounted on the wall, and an old, beige telephone sitting on the nightstand. It wasn’t the worst place she had ever stayed, but it definitely wasn’t home.

Chan tossed the key onto the nightstand and shrugged off his jacket, throwing it onto the nearest bed. "You hungry?" he asked, turning toward her.

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."

Without another word, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through a local takeout menu. Within minutes, he placed an order for two burgers and fries from a fast-food joint a few blocks away. Once the order was placed, he tossed his phone onto the table and leaned against it, arms crossed. The silence stretched between them until she finally spoke.

"Why didn’t you come back?"

His jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t look away. "Come back where?"

"The agency." She sat on the edge of one of the beds, watching him closely. "You found out what they were doing. You could’ve confronted them. Exposed them."

A humorless chuckle left his lips. "And then what? Be silenced before I could say a damn thing? You think I didn’t consider it? I saw what happened to the others who tried. People who were supposed to be on my side turned against me. The minute I started asking the wrong questions, I became a loose end."

She frowned, thinking back to the files she had uncovered. It was all there—the fabricated reports, the missing agents, the unexplained deaths. "But you were one of their best. Why would they—"

"Because loyalty only matters until you become a threat." His voice was sharp now, edged with something darker. "I stopped being useful to them the second I figured out the truth. So they made sure I wouldn’t be a problem anymore."

She let his words sink in, the weight of them pressing against her chest. But she still had questions—questions he wasn’t answering.

"Do you regret it? You know… disappearing?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he reached for the plastic bag of takeout that had just been delivered outside their door. "Eat." He tossed her a burger and fries before settling onto the other bed with his own meal.

She took a bite, but her mind was still turning.

"What about your family?" she asked carefully. "Did you ever—"

His whole body stiffened, his reaction instant, his grip tightening around the burger in his hand. His jaw flexed, his eyes darkening as he stared at the food like it had suddenly lost all appeal. He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at her. Instead, he set his meal down, stood up, and walked toward the bathroom. "I’m taking a shower," he muttered before shutting the door behind him. The sound of rushing water filled the silence, but Y/N barely noticed.

You had hit a nerve. And you realized then just how much of Christopher Bang was still buried beneath the hardened shell of the man sitting across from you.

The bathroom door creaked open, and steam billowed into the room as Chan stepped out, his bare chest glistening slightly from the residual dampness. A white towel hung low on his hips, clinging to his sharp V-line as he ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back. His movements were unbothered, casual like walking around half-naked in a cheap motel room with a near-stranger was nothing new to him.

Y/N swallowed, forcing herself to keep her eyes on his face as he made his way toward his duffel bag. He crouched down, flipping it open, but after rummaging for a few seconds, he stilled.

Then he sighed.

"Shit." He ran a hand down his face. "Forgot to pack extra clothes."

She watched as he stood up and, with no hesitation, reached for the black trousers he had worn earlier, slipping them back on. The fabric clung to his still-damp skin, and for a second, she thought about how uncomfortable that must feel.

"Sorry… for earlier." Her voice was quieter now, hesitant. "I shouldn’t have asked about your family." Chan glanced at her, then let out a small breath through his nose—a sound that wasn’t quite a sigh, but close. "It’s fine."

She wasn’t sure if she believed him, but she didn’t push. Instead, he nodded toward the bathroom. "Go freshen up. Get some rest. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow." She shifted slightly, still sitting cross-legged on the bed. "You’re not gonna finish your food?"

"Not hungry." He gestured lazily toward the leftover takeout on the table. "Help yourself if you want."

She considered it for a moment but ultimately shook her head. "I’m good."

With that, she stood and grabbed her own bag, heading into the bathroom. The hot water did little to ease the tension in her muscles, but she welcomed it anyway, letting it wash away the grime of the past few hours. It wasn’t until she stepped out and reached for her bag that she realized, she hadn’t packed extra clothes either.

Her stomach sank slightly. She hadn’t planned for any of this. Sighing, she pulled her trousers back on, then hesitated before deciding to just stay in her bra instead of her now slightly damp shirt. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than wearing something uncomfortable to bed.

When she stepped back into the room, the lights were dimmed, casting a softer glow over the space. Chan was already lying on one of the beds, one arm resting behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, his other hand loosely draped over his stomach. His breaths were even, steady but she could tell he wasn’t asleep. She slipped under the covers of the other bed, turning onto her side so she was facing him.

Her eyes traced his features, the way his lips were slightly parted, the sharp angles of his jawline softened by the dim light. His hair was still damp, strands falling over his forehead.

She thought about everything that had happened that night.

About the gunfire. The way he had protected her. The way he carried the weight of his past like an unspoken burden. She wanted to ask him more. Wanted to understand him. But instead, she just watched. And before she even realized it, sleep started to pull her under.

You stirred at the sound of rustling, the soft shuffle of fabric and the faint clinking of metal. Your brows furrowed as you blinked your eyes open, adjusting to the dim morning light filtering through the dusty motel curtains. Chan was already up fully dressed in the same black trousers and shirt from yesterday, though now slightly less wrinkled. He stood near the rickety wooden table, stuffing a few things into his duffel bag with quick, practiced movements.

"You didn’t wake me up?" your voice was rough with sleep as you pushed herself up on your elbows. Chan barely spared her a glance. "Oh, my bad," he deadpanned, zipping up the bag. "Next time I’ll throw a bucket of ice water on you for the full wake-up experience."

You rolled her eyes. "Asshole."

He slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and turned to face her. "Get up. We’re going to Prague." You froze mid-stretch, staring at him in disbelief. "The fuck for?" Chan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like you were giving him a headache before the day had even properly started. "I have an informant there."

You groaned, flopping back onto the bed for a second before dragging a hand down your face. "Of course you do." He eyed you, crossing his arms. "You also need a new passport. I’ve got someone we’re meeting before we head to the airport."

"Great," you muttered, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. "At least let me shower first."

"No time."

"What do you mean, no time?" you asked incredulously.

"I mean we have to leave now, or I’m leaving you behind," he said flatly, walking towards the door. With an annoyed sigh, you quickly pulled on the same clothes from the night before, stuffing your things into your bag before following him out.

The lobby was empty as usual except for the bored-looking receptionist scrolling through his phone. Chan dropped the room key onto the desk without a word, and they stepped outside, the morning air crisp against their skin.

The car was parked where they left it, and as soon as they got in, Chan started the engine. He didn’t waste time with small talk, navigating through the quiet streets like he knew them by heart. After a while, you glanced out the window and frowned. "Where are we going now?"

"Getting new clothes," he replied, taking a sharp turn onto a side street.

A few minutes later, he pulled into a small clothing store, nothing fancy just practical. Inside, Chan moved quickly, grabbing things off racks with little hesitation hoodies, flannels, caps, t-shirts. He stuck mostly to dark colors, predominantly black. You watched as he barely even looked at anything outside that color scheme.

"You know," you noted, picking up a gray hoodie, "I think you might be allergic to color."

"Black is practical," he said, unfazed, handing a few items to the cashier.

"Black is suspicious," you corrected. "You look like an action movie cliché."

"Says the girl who almost got me killed last night," he shot back with a smirk, swiping his card.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the bag of clothes, following him back to the car. As soon as you both were inside, she sighed. "I’m hungry." Chan gave her a look, deadpan. "Are you always hungry?" The answer to that was a straight yes but you just ignored him.

Luckily, he stopped at a gas station a few minutes later. While Chan focused on filling the tank, you made a beeline for the convenience store inside, grabbing whatever looked remotely edible; chips, bottled water, granola bars. When you got back to the car, Chan was already in the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

"Took you long enough," he muttered as she climbed in. You tossed a snack at him, and he caught it with one hand, raising a brow. "What’s this?"

"Breakfast." Chan glanced at the granola bar, then at you. Then, with a small smirk, he shrugged and tore it open. "At least you’re useful for something." You shot him a glare as you unwrapped your own snack.

With that, he started the car again, merging back onto the road.

The bar was dimly lit, the scent of cheap alcohol and cigarette smoke lingering in the air. It wasn’t crowded just a few people scattered around, either drinking in silence or murmuring in low voices. A faint blues song played from the jukebox in the corner, barely noticeable over the quiet hum of conversation.

Chan led you to the back, past the bar counter where a middle-aged bartender barely spared them a glance. There, tucked into a booth, sat a man with light brown hair, sharp eyes, and a playful smirk that only deepened when he saw them approach.

"Well, well, well," the man drawled, leaning back in his seat. "Christopher fucking Bang. Thought you were a ghost." Chan slid into the seat across from him with ease, looking unimpressed. "Yes, that was the idea, Felix." You hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside Chan, watching as Felix’s gaze flickered to her. His smirk widened. "And who’s this? Don’t tell me you’ve finally made a friend."

"She’s the reason my ghost has lost its aura," Chan said dryly, tossing his duffel bag onto the seat beside him. Felix chuckled. "Poor you. And here I thought you liked your lone wolf act." Then he extended a hand towards you. "Felix. And you are?"

You shook his hand, still thrown off by how casual this felt. "Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. If you’ve managed to survive Chris’s bad mood for this long, you must be decent."

"Still debating that," Chan muttered, and you elbowed him. Felix laughed and gestured to the table. "So, what brings you to my fine establishment of illegal transactions?" Chan got straight to the point. "We need two passports for Prague."

Felix raised a brow, tapping a finger against the rim of his glass. "Prague, huh? Interesting choice. Who are we running from?"

"Nosy as ever," Chan remarked. "Hey, I like to know if I’m making passports for people who’ll get me killed," Felix said, then nodded toward Y/N. "That include her too?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Chan sighed.

"Oh, come on," You scoffed. "I’m literally helping you."

"And you’re doing a fantastic job at getting me into more trouble," Chan shot back.

Felix chuckled. "Same old Chris. Alright, let’s get to work."

He pulled out a laptop and a small suitcase filled with equipment—scanners, blank passport books, laminating sheets. The moment he unzipped it, you realized just how skilled he must be. Everything was neatly arranged, every tool looking well-used but carefully maintained.

"What names do you want?" Felix asked as he booted up his laptop. "Ryan," Chan said immediately.

Felix scoffed. "Real original."

"It works."

"Sure, it does. And for you, Y/N?"

She thought for a moment. "Andi." Felix nodded, already typing. "Andi and Ryan. Got it. What nationalities?"

"Keep mine Australian," Chan said.

"Make mine British," You added.

Felix hummed as he worked, fingers flying across the keyboard. "And here I thought you two would at least try to be creative. Guess not."

"We don’t have time for creativity," Chan muttered.

"We never do," Felix sighed, pulling out two blank passport books. "Alright, give me a bit. This’ll take an hour, maybe less. You two want a drink while you wait?"

"No," Chan said immediately. "I could use one," you said at the same time.

Felix grinned. "See? I like her." Chan just shook his head, leaning back in his seat while Felix got to work, the hum of the printer soon filling the air as new identities took form.

As he stood he walked over to the bar, poured you a drink with practiced ease, sliding the glass over to her while he took a sip of his own. The liquor burned going down, but it wasn’t unpleasant. you glanced over at Chan, who was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, eyes closed completely unbothered by the fact that they began talking about him right in front of him.

"You know, should be careful with the questions you ask," Felix said, swirling the liquid in his glass.

You exhaled. "I may have overstepped yesterday."

"Already? Sheesh. By the looks of it you did a really good job too," Felix said with a slight smirk, but then his expression softened. "Chris… He’s a good guy, you know? Just misread as a bad one. People like us, we don’t get the benefit of the doubt." You watched as Felix’s gaze flickered to Chan for a moment before he turned his attention back to you. "He’s done things, sure. But never without a reason. Just… don’t push too hard."

You nodded slowly, understanding the warning underneath his words. "He still should’ve come back instead of running."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Felix set his glass down. "You ever think that some fights aren’t worth it anymore?"

Before you could answer, the machine beeped, snapping both of their attention back to the task at hand. Felix grinned, standing up and stretching. "And that’s our cue. Looks like you two are officially new people."

Chan opened his eyes and sat up as Felix grabbed the newly made passports, flipping through them with a nod of approval before sliding them across the table. "Ryan and Andi. Welcome to your new lives."

Felix clapped Chan on the back as they stood near the entrance of the bar. "Be careful, mate," he muttered under his breath, just low enough for only Chan to hear.

Chan didn’t react immediately, just gave a slow nod before gripping Felix’s shoulder for a brief second an unspoken acknowledgment. "Appreciate it."

With that, he turned and led you out of the bar, the door swinging shut behind them as they stepped into the afternoon. The air was hotter now, the city’s hum buzzing into the background as they made their way back to the car. The drive to the airport was mostly silent, save for the occasional sound of Chan drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. His focus was set ahead, his jaw clenched slightly as you stole glances at him from the passenger seat.

"So, what’s the plan?" you finally asked, breaking the silence.

"We get to Prague, meet with my informant, and get the intel we need," Chan said flatly, eyes still on the road. "It’s a simple in-and-out. No unnecessary risks. We keep a low profile, and we don’t start anything we can’t finish." you tilted her head, studying his expression. "And what exactly are we looking for?"

"Proof." His fingers tightened on the wheel. "Proof that the agency isn’t what it claims to be. That I didn’t just vanish for no reason." You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. "I genuinely want to help with this." Chan exhaled sharply through his nose, a short, humorless laugh. "Then do as you’re told and don’t fuck things up." His words came out sharp, blunt.

Your brows furrowed. "You’re still pissed about yesterday, aren’t you?"

"No," he said quickly. Too quickly.

She rolled her eyes. "Sure. I totally believe that."

Chan didn’t respond. He just kept driving.

They arrived at the airport parking lot a little into the evening. They would have arrived earlier, save for the fact that you had become hungry again. The lot was half-full, the bright glow of overhead lights casting long shadows across the pavement. Chan pulled into a spot near the entrance, killing the engine before leaning back in his seat. "Grab what you need," he muttered as he reached for his duffel bag in the backseat. He shrugged on a black flannel over his t-shirt, pulling a cap down low over his face. A precaution.

You adjusted your own bag before stepping out of the car, slinging the strap over your shoulder. You glanced over at him. "You really think someone’s still tracking you after all this time?"

"It’s not about thinking," Chan muttered, adjusting the cap slightly. "It’s about knowing.” You didn’t argue.

They made their way into the airport, weaving through the late-night travelers and half-empty check-in lines. As they approached the counter, Chan handed over his fake passport with ease, his movements practiced, unbothered. You did the same, watching as both your boarding passes were printed and their bags weighed. Everything was going smoothly until you noticed Chan tense slightly beside you.

His posture didn’t change, but you could feel the shift in his demeanor. His eyes flickered toward the far side of the terminal. A man. Dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie. Dark sunglasses despite it being well into the night. Standing near one of the pillars, his posture too relaxed, his gaze locked onto Chan. He stared back, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged.

Then the man turned and walked away. Not rushed. Not panicked. Just slow, deliberate steps.

You followed Chan’s gaze but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "What is it?" you asked, shifting slightly. Chan’s expression didn’t change. "Nothing," he muttered, turning back as he grabbed his boarding pass. You obviously didn’t buy it, but before you could press further, the attendant gestured you forward. Both of you moved toward the security checkpoint, blending into the steady stream of travelers.

As you stepped into the lounge to wait for your boarding call, Chan’s eyes subtly scanned the area, his mind already running through possibilities. Someone had recognized him. And that meant trouble was closer than he thought.

---

The overhead lights in the plane flickered as passengers shuffled to their seats, the hum of quiet conversations filling the cabin. Chan and Y/N settled into their row, a middle and window seat on the right side of the aircraft. Chan sat by the aisle, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp as they scanned the boarding passengers.

The man entered.

He came in through the opposite aisle, stepping past rows of seated travelers with practiced ease. Y/N wouldn’t have noticed him if it weren’t for the way Chan suddenly tensed. His body didn’t move, but his gaze locked onto the stranger’s as he passed. The man didn’t break eye contact. Not until he reached his seat, a few rows ahead.

Chan let out a slow breath. "We’re being followed."

Y/N turned her head slightly, careful not to make it obvious. "Are you sure?" she whispered.

Chan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shifted in his seat, reaching into the back of his jeans and pulling out a compact, matte-black pistol. He kept it low, just below the armrest, so no one around them would notice. Y/N’s eyes widened. "How the hell did you get a gun on a flight?" she hissed under her breath, her voice barely audible over the boarding announcements.

Chan smirked slightly, his fingers resting lightly on the weapon. "Had help."

"Help?"

"People owe me favors," he said simply, tucking the gun beneath his jacket before anyone could see. "Now act normal." Y/N swallowed, shifting in her seat as the final boarding call rang through the speakers. The plane doors sealed shut, the hum of the engines growing louder as the aircraft prepared for takeoff. The man didn’t turn around again. He didn’t need to.

Chan knew better than to believe in coincidences. The cabin lights dimmed slightly as the flight settled into its long journey. Passengers were lost in their own worlds; some sleeping, some watching in-flight entertainment, some mindlessly scrolling through their phones.

With time, Y/N had made herself comfortable, pulling out the tray table in front of her. A half-eaten airline meal sat beside a small cup of juice, and she was fully engrossed in a movie playing on the tiny screen in front of her. Chan wasn’t watching anything. Not the movie, not the meal service. His attention kept flickering to her how relaxed she looked despite everything, how she absentmindedly chewed on a straw while focusing on the screen. He envied how easily she adapted.

Then, without a word, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up.

Y/N immediately turned to him, raising a brow. "Where are you going?"

"Relax," he muttered, voice low so only she could hear. "I’ll be back."

She frowned slightly but didn’t press further as he slipped into the aisle, making his way towards the rear of the plane. As he passed by the galley, a flight attendant—a woman with sharp eyes and neatly pinned-back hair—brushed past him subtly, slipping something into his palm with practiced ease, just the way she had slipped the gun into his hands earlier.

A silencer. Chan didn’t react, didn’t even acknowledge the exchange. He simply continued walking until he reached the lavatory, pushing the door open and stepping inside without a second glance. The door remained unlocked. He moved quickly, screwing the silencer onto the barrel of his gun with steady hands. Then, he leaned against the wall, letting the steady hum of the engines drown out his thoughts. Now, he waited. Because he knew the man had been watching him too as he stood up.

But the wait didn’t take long, the moment the man stepped inside, Chan’s grip tightened around the gun. The tiny lavatory instantly felt smaller, the tension suffocating. The man turned, locking the door behind him with a click. His eyes, concealed behind dark shades, flickered to the gun in Chan’s hands.

Chan didn’t waste time. "Who sent you?" he demanded, keeping his voice low but firm. The man didn’t answer. Instead, his fingers twitched, his stance shifting just slightly. It was enough of a tell. Chan moved first, but the man was faster. With a sharp pivot, the attacker lunged forward, his palm striking the inside of Chan’s wrist. The sudden impact sent the silenced gun skidding across the cramped lavatory sink, landing with a dull clatter.

Chan’s jaw clenched. "You shouldn’t have done that."

The next second, the fight erupted.

The man threw a punch aimed at Chan’s ribs, but Chan twisted, dodging at the last second. He countered, driving his elbow into the man's throat. It wasn’t enough to collapse his windpipe, but it sent him staggering against the sink, gasping for air. Before Chan could press the attack, the man recovered quickly, yanking open the flimsy overhead compartment and smashing it into Chan’s face. He barely had time to shield himself before the man grabbed his head and slammed it into the mirror above the sink. The glass spiderwebbed upon impact, fragments cracking away and slicing into Chan’s forehead.

A warm trickle of blood dripped down his temple. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, then grinned through the sting. "That all you got?" The man sneered but didn’t waste breath on words. Instead, he lunged again.

Chan sidestepped, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting it violently. A muffled pop sounded as the joint dislocated. The man barely had time to register the pain before Chan drove his knee into his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs.

The man’s sunglasses flew off, revealing dark, bloodshot eyes that burned with hatred. "Who sent you?" Chan demanded again, this time grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him against the wall. Still, no answer. Instead, the man snapped his head forward in a brutal headbutt. Pain exploded across Chan’s nose, stars dancing in his vision. He barely had time to react before the man reached for a concealed blade in his boot.

Shit.

Chan instinctively twisted his torso, the knife slicing through the air where his ribcage had been a second ago. No more playing nice. With swift precision, Chan caught the man's wrist and smashed it against the metal sink. Bone cracked, the blade clattering to the floor. The man hissed but didn’t get a chance to retaliate before Chan grabbed the back of his head and slammed it against the already-broken mirror. Glass shattered. Blood sprayed. The man groaned, slumping slightly, but Chan didn’t let up. He spun the guy around and pressed his arm against his windpipe, locking him in a tight chokehold.

"Last chance." Chan’s voice was dark, deadly, each word laced with unspoken violence. "Who sent you?" The man gagged, his fingers clawing at Chan’s arm. His face was turning purple, veins popping along his forehead.

Nothing.

No name. No last words.

Just a silent, defiant glare before his body went limp.

Chan held the choke for a few more seconds, ensuring the bastard was unconscious before finally letting go. The man crumpled to the ground, blood dripping from his forehead, nose, and shattered lips.

Chan exhaled, flexing his fingers. His hands were covered in blood—some his, some the guy’s. Mostly the guy’s. His reflection in the broken mirror was splattered with red, a fresh gash on his forehead still bleeding down the side of his face.

He wiped his nose, tasting copper, before bending down and retrieving his silenced gun. Then, as if nothing had happened, he straightened his flannel shirt, turned toward the unconscious body, and sighed.

"Should’ve just answered the damn question."

Chan crouched over the unconscious man, his breath steadying as he quickly searched the guy’s pockets. His fingers skimmed past a pack of cigarettes, a crumpled napkin, and finally, a folded photograph.

He pulled it out. His own face stared back at him.

Chan’s stomach tightened, but he shoved down the unease, slipping the photo into his own pocket. He continued searching until he found the man’s cellphone. He didn’t recognize the model, but that didn’t matter. Information was information. He pocketed it and stood up. Turning to the mirror, he sighed. Blood trickled from the gash on his forehead, staining the edge of his brow. His knuckles were raw, the bruises already beginning to form. He looked like hell.

He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, hissing at the sting when it hit the fresh cut. The metallic scent of blood mixed with cheap airplane soap as he washed away the evidence of the fight. Then, making it look believable, he flushed the toilet.

He unlocked the door, stepping out casually before pulling it shut behind him. As he made his way back to his seat, he rolled his shoulders, shaking off the remaining tension.

Y/N’s eyes widened the second she saw him.

"Chan, what the fuck happened?"

He slid into his seat, resting an arm on the armrest as if he hadn’t just nearly killed a man in the lavatory. "We were being followed," he muttered, his voice low enough that only she could hear. Her concern deepened. "Followed? By who?" He sighed, tilting his head back slightly. "No idea."

Y/N frowned, scanning his bruised knuckles and the drying cut on his face. "So, what—? You just fought him? On a fucking airplane?" Chan smirked, resting his cheek against his fist. "Kept it quiet."

"Yeah, real subtle, bleeding all over the place," she muttered. He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Trust me, the other guy looks worse." Y/N’s gaze flickered with unease. "Did you...?"

"He's alive. But I doubt he’ll be up anytime soon."

LIES.

She exhaled, shaking her head. "Shit... What did you find on him?"

Chan pulled the folded photograph from his pocket and handed it to her. She opened it, her expression shifting from curiosity to unease the moment she recognized his face staring back.

"That’s you."

"Yeah. Seems like someone really wants me dead."

Y/N swallowed, gripping the picture tightly. "And you have no idea who sent him?" Chan leaned back, his fingers tapping against the armrest. "Not yet." But he would find out. And when he did, they’d regret ever sending someone after him.

As the plane touched down in Prague, Chan kept his posture relaxed, but his eyes remained sharp, scanning every passenger as they disembarked. Y/N could tell he was still on high alert from the incident mid-flight. She, too, found herself glancing around, paranoia creeping in despite her best efforts to stay calm. The moment they stepped into the terminal, Chan’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out, checking the message. A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Our ride’s here."

Y/N barely had time to process his words before a familiar voice called out.

"Look who finally decided to show up." She turned to see a young man leaning casually against a pillar, arms crossed over his chest. He had messy brown hair, a confident smirk, and eyes that danced with amusement. Dressed in a dark hoodie and ripped jeans, he looked nothing like what she expected from an "informant."

Chan rolled his eyes. "Cut the dramatics, Jisung."

Jisung pushed off the pillar and walked up to them. "Come on, hyung, I was starting to think you got yourself killed before making it here." His eyes flickered to Y/N, and his smirk widened. "And who’s this?" Chan sighed. "Jisung, meet Andi. Andi, this is Jisung—one of the few people I actually trust."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You trust people?" Jisung barked out a laugh. "Right? That’s what I said." Chan groaned. "Both of you, shut up and get in the car." Jisung led them through the bustling terminal and out to the parking lot, where a sleek black SUV was waiting. "I pulled some strings to get you a safe house. Should be secure for now."

As they climbed into the car, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that things were only going to get more complicated from here.

---

The safe house was tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, an unassuming apartment building that looked like it hadn’t been lived in for years. Jisung led them inside, locking the multiple bolts behind them before gesturing toward the dimly lit living room. "Make yourselves at home," he said, flopping onto the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

Y/N and Chan exchanged a glance before setting their bags down. The space was minimalist barely any furniture except for a couch, a TV, and a cluttered desk stacked with papers and electronic equipment. The faint hum of a computer running in the background filled the silence. After giving them a few minutes to unwind, Jisung reappeared with a bag of snacks, tossing a granola bar at Y/N. She caught it, arching an eyebrow. "Not exactly a five-star meal, but it’s what I got," he shrugged before tossing a bag of chips toward Chan.

Chan caught it mid-air but didn’t open it. Instead, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His expression turned serious. "The data, Jisung."

Jisung sighed dramatically, rummaging through his hoodie pocket before pulling out a flash drive. "Yeah, yeah, Mr. No Fun. I got some of what you asked for, but—"

Chan’s jaw tightened. "But?"

Jisung plugged the drive into the TV. The screen flickered, and multiple files popped up—profiles, reports, security footage, transaction logs, and classified documents, some of which were heavily redacted. "Here’s what I managed to pull," Jisung began, clicking through the files. "I got dirt on Reynolds, his known aliases, offshore accounts, deals that he’s made with some pretty bad people. There’s a list of buyers who’ve worked with him, footage of his men moving shipments. But…"

Chan’s fingers drummed against his knee. "Spit it out, Ji."

Jisung turned to face them, his expression more serious than usual. "There’s a key piece of evidence I couldn’t get. It’s too heavily guarded, even for me. Whatever it is, they know it’s important, and they’ve locked it down tight." Y/N frowned. "What kind of information are we talking about?" Jisung exhaled. "A hard drive. It contains direct links between Reynolds and the black-market trades—evidence that could get him convicted. But it’s not something I can hack into remotely. It has to be taken physically."

Chan leaned back, rubbing his chin. "And where is it?"

Jisung smirked. "That’s where things get interesting. There’s a high-profile event happening this weekend in Prague. A charity gala except the only charity involved is rich assholes patting themselves on the back while laundering money."

Y/N crossed her arms. "And let me guess, someone attending has the hard drive?"

Jisung nodded. "Bingo. His name is Viktor Ivanov. On paper, he’s a respected businessman, philanthropist, all that bullshit. But in reality? He’s got his hands in everything from illegal arms, human trafficking,to black market trades. And he’s worked with Reynolds before. If anyone has the missing piece of evidence, it’s him."

Chan’s gaze darkened. "So, we go in, retrieve the hard drive, and get out."

Jisung chuckled. "Easier said than done. Security’s gonna be tight armed guards, facial recognition, the works. This isn’t some back-alley operation. We’ll have to blend in, go undercover."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Undercover? Like… black-tie event undercover?"

Jisung grinned. "Oh yeah. Time to break out the fancy clothes, sweetheart. You and Chan are gonna have to play the part of a wealthy couple."

Chan let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Great."

Y/N smirked at his reaction. "Not a fan of suits, Ryan?"

Chan shot her a look. "Just focus on the mission, Andi." Jisung clapped his hands together. "Alright, lovebirds. We’ve got a lot of work to do before the gala. Hope you’re ready, ‘cause once we’re in, there’s no turning back."

---

The safe house was quiet at night, save for the faint hum of computers and the distant sound of cars passing outside. The air was thick with an eerie calm, a stark contrast to the chaotic lives they were leading. Y/N padded down the stairs in her socks, her initial plan being to grab a drink and head back to bed. But as she entered the dimly lit living room, she paused, noticing Jisung sitting by the window, his back to her.

Multiple monitors flickered in front of him, casting an artificial glow over his face. The TV beside him slowly transitioned through lines of data, profiles, security footage, encrypted messages. He had his legs pulled up onto the chair, one hand lazily clicking through files while the other tapped absentmindedly on the desk. "You don’t sleep?" Yn asked, leaning against the kitchen counter as she opened a bottle of water.

Jisung turned slightly but didn’t seem surprised by her presence. "Not when there’s work to do," he replied, eyes still glued to the screens. "Hyung doesn’t say it, but I know he’s stressed. Figured I’d help him sort out some of the security details before the weekend."

Y/N took a sip of her drink, watching the data flash across the TV. "That’s… actually really nice of you." Jisung let out a small chuckle. "I know, I’m an angel." He stretched his arms, his fingers cracking from hours of typing. "Oh, and I ordered what you guys are gonna wear for the gala. Should be here by tomorrow."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You already know my size?"

Jisung smirked. "Please, I’ve been in this line of work long enough to tell at a glance."

Yn rolled her eyes but smiled, walking over to where he sat. As she glanced at the multiple screens, curiosity gnawed at her. "Hey, Jisung… can I ask you something?"

He hummed, still typing away. "Sure. What’s up?"

"Were you also ex-FBI like Chan?"

Jisung snorted. "Me? Hell no. I wouldn’t last a day under all those strict-ass rules." He leaned back in his chair, finally turning to look at her. "I was just a hacker. A really, really good one. But that also meant I ended up working for some of the worst people."

Yn’s brows furrowed. "Then… how did you meet Chan?"

Jisung’s smirk faded slightly, and for a moment, he was quiet. The only sound in the room was the quiet whirring of the hard drive. Then, he sighed.

"Chan was supposed to kill me."

Y/N blinked. "What?"

Jisung nodded, his gaze distant now, as if remembering something far away. "Back then, I was working as an informant for a guy Chan had been hunting. I didn’t know what I was getting into. I was just good with tech, and they paid well. But when Chan found out I was feeding them intel, he was sent to put a bullet in my head."

Y/N swallowed, watching as Jisung tapped his fingers against the desk. "I was on my knees," Jisung continued, his voice quieter now. "Gun pressed to my skull, and I was sure I was gonna die. But then, just as he was about to pull the trigger… my phone rang."

Y/N felt her heart tighten. "Who was calling?"

Jisung smiled faintly. "Minho. H-He was my boyfriend."

A heavy silence settled between them. Jisung took a deep breath before continuing. "Chan hesitated. He’s got this thing… he hates killing people who have someone waiting for them. Innocent people. I guess in his mind, if you have a loved one, you can’t be all bad." He scoffed. "So, he lowered the gun. And that should’ve been the end of it."

Y/N’s throat felt dry. "But it wasn’t."

Jisung shook his head. "No. Because after that, he found out the agency had lied to him. They told him I had no loved ones, no attachments. That I was just another loose end to tie up. But when he realized they’d fed him false intel, he snapped."

"So, what did he do?" Yn asked.

Jisung let out a dry chuckle. "Oh, he kept me. Bound me, made me work for him until the mission ended. Made sure I couldn’t run, couldn’t betray him. But instead of torturing me, he made me dig. He forced me to look into the agency. And that’s how I found it—the betrayal."

Y/N felt her chest tighten. "You’re the one who helped him uncover it."

Jisung nodded. "Yeah. I was the one who pulled up the records. The fake mission reports. The buried files. The orders that didn’t make sense. And when we pieced it all together… that’s when Chan knew he had to get out." Y/N stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. She had known Chan had gone through betrayal, but hearing it from Jisung, someone who had been tangled in the mess firsthand made it all the more real.

"So, after all that… he let you go?" she asked softly.

Jisung grinned, though there was something tired behind it. "Yeah. But instead of running, I stuck around. Guess I figured if someone like Chan, who was trained to be a weapon, could turn against the people who made him… then maybe I could, too."

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "That’s… that’s insane." Jisung laughed, spinning his chair around. "Yeah. But life’s more fun that way, don’t you think?"

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead, she glanced toward the hallway where Chan had gone to sleep. Everything about him made a little more sense now.

She turned back to Jisung. "Thanks for telling me."

Jisung gave her a small salute. "Don’t mention it. And hey, try not to get killed at the gala, yeah? I worked really hard picking out that dress for you."

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she stood. "Goodnight, Jisung."

"Night, Andi."

As she walked back upstairs, her mind replayed everything Jisung had said, the pieces of Chan’s past coming together like a puzzle she wasn’t sure she was ready to see completed.

---

The smell of food lingered in the air, warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the tension of the past few days. The scent of eggs, toasted bread, and something slightly savory maybe sausage or bacon drifted through the quiet safe house. Sunlight filtered weakly through the dusty curtains, casting soft shadows across the living room. You groggily sat up in bed, stretching before slipping out into the open space that served as both a kitchen and living area. The sight that greeted her was unexpected. Jisung was sprawled out on the couch, one arm dangling over the side, his mouth slightly open as he slept. His laptop was still open on the coffee table, its screen dimmed but faintly glowing with lines of code and security details he had probably been working on until he passed out. A blanket was lazily draped over him probably Chan’s doing.

Speaking of Chan…

You turned your gaze to the kitchen, where the man himself stood, finishing up breakfast. He was dressed casually, black sweatpants and a loose t-shirt but there was a methodical precision in how he moved, from the way he flipped the eggs to how he plated the food with practiced ease. The muscles in his forearms flexed as he set a dish down, and you had to remind herself not to stare too long.

He must’ve sensed your presence because he glanced over his shoulder. "You're up." His voice was slightly rough, as if he hadn’t spoken much yet this morning. "You good?"

You nodded sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. "Yeah… What time is it?"

"Late enough for breakfast." He turned back to the counter, grabbing a plate, and you assumed it was for you. Your stomach grumbled softly at the sight of warm food, and you took a step forward—

Only to watch as Chan walked straight past you. She blinked, caught off guard, as he headed to the couch, crouching down beside Jisung. With careful ease, he nudged the younger man's shoulder. "Wake up, Ji. Eat."

Jisung groaned, shifting slightly but refusing to open his eyes. Chan huffed, setting the plate down on the coffee table before nudging him again, this time a little firmer. "Don’t make me force-feed you."

Jisung cracked an eye open, barely awake. "Mmm, five more minutes…"

Chan’s response was unimpressed. "You said that three hours ago." Jisung groaned dramatically, but the smell of food seemed to win him over. With sluggish movements, he pushed himself upright, rubbing his face as he blindly reached for the plate. "You're a saint, hyung… a scary saint, but still."

You scoffed quietly to herself, shaking your head as you moved to the counter. You grabbed a plate and served yourself, but as you sat down at the small dining table, your eyes flicked toward the couch.

Chan’s actions weren’t anything grand, nothing overly affectionate, but there was a certain care in the way he handled Jisung. The way he made sure he ate first. The way he woke him up with just enough force to be effective, but not enough to startle him. Even the way he placed the plate within easy reach like this was second nature. Jisung, despite his usual joking and laid-back nature, didn’t argue. He simply ate, barely keeping his eyes open as he muttered a soft "Thanks, hyung."

Chan grunted in response before returning to the kitchen.

You quickly focused on your food, trying to shake off the strange feeling settling in your chest.

After a few moments of quiet eating, Chan finally spoke again. "Hey, Andi. The drive—can you get it for me?"

You looked up, still chewing, before nodding. You wiped your hands on a napkin and pushed back your chair, heading toward your bag where you had stashed the device. Retrieving it, you walked back and held it out. Chan took it without a second glance and without even checking it first passed it straight to Jisung.

Jisung, now slightly more awake, caught it lazily and smirked. "Damn, no trust issues at all, huh?"

Chan shot him a look. "Just work."

You watched as Jisung plugged the drive into his laptop, the screen flickering to life. Whatever information was on there, it was important. But as Chan leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his gaze sharp and calculating, she couldn't help but wonder,

Just how much trust had been built between these two for things to flow this naturally?

Jisung sat slouched on the couch, still recovering from sleep as he shoveled food into his mouth with one hand while lazily scrolling through the files on his laptop with the other. His eyes flickered across the screen, scanning the reports and documents, occasionally squinting as if processing something particularly interesting.

Chan sat nearby, sipping his coffee in silence, while Yn leaned against the counter, observing the exchange. The safe house was quiet aside from the faint clacking of Jisung’s keyboard and the occasional rustle of cutlery against plates. Then, Jisung’s phone rang.

His head snapped up, eyes darting to the device on the coffee table. The second he saw the caller ID, a light pink hue dusted his cheeks.

You, ever the observer, caught the reaction immediately. Jisung coughed into his fist before scrambling to grab his phone, swiping to answer with a voice softer than either of them had ever heard from him.

"Yeobo?"

You’s eyebrows shot up. Chan blinked.

Jisung barely noticed their reactions, completely immersed in the voice on the other end. His entire demeanor softened, the playful smugness slipping away to reveal something more vulnerable more genuine. His fingers absentmindedly traced the edges of his laptop, his lips quirking up into a fond, almost dreamy smile.

"No, no, I’m fine. I just woke up, actually… Yeah, I know, but hyung made me eat, so don’t worry." He paused, listening intently. His expression wavered between shy and utterly smitten.

You smirked as you watched him, your curiosity piqued. Who could possibly turn Jisung the fast-talking, cocky informant into this lovesick mess? Chan, on the other hand, seemed unfazed, though a barely perceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Jisung hummed in response to something the caller said, his free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. His ears were definitely turning red.

"Mhm… No, I’m safe, I promise. I would tell you if anything happened."

There was a pause. Then Jisung chuckled, low and warm, his entire body relaxing into the couch. His voice dropped into something softer, more intimate.

"You always worry too much, Min. But I like that about you."

You nearly choked on your coffee.

Chan raised an eyebrow but said nothing, merely tilting his head as if evaluating how long this little lovesick performance would last. Jisung, oblivious to their reactions, sighed contently before mumbling, "난 널 너무 사랑해, 여보." I love you so much, honey.

He paused, biting his lip before grinning like a fool. "Mm, yeah, me too. I’ll call you later, okay? Take care of yourself. Bye, baby." He hung up with a dopey smile still lingering on his face.

A beat of silence passed before you, unable to help yourself, leaned forward with a knowing smirk. "So, he drives you that lovesick, huh?" Jisung scoffed, but the blush on his face gave him away. "Tch. I don’t know what you’re talking about."

You gave him an unimpressed look. "Jisung, you just called him ‘yeobo’ in the first two seconds of answering the call. And if I’m correct that translates to sweetheart." Chan finally spoke, his voice laced with mild amusement. "How do you know about Minho?"

Jisung, still stuck in his post-call haze, simply shrugged before mumbling, "I told her." Chan's expression shifted slightly, something calculating flickering in his eyes. He leaned back, arms crossed, studying both of them before exhaling through his nose. "Huh."

You turned to him. "What?"

Chan shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Just didn't think Ji would spill his tragic backstory so easily."

Jisung rolled his eyes. "It’s not tragic, it’s romantic." You snorted. "Yeah, because getting nearly executed was so romantic." Jisung pointed at you. "Exactly. Life-or-death romance is the best kind." Chan sighed, rubbing his temples. "You two are going to give me a headache."

You grinned, nudging Jisung. "Well, at least now I know what kind of mess you turn into when Minho calls."

Jisung groaned, throwing himself back onto the couch. "I will never live this down, will I?"

You and Chan shared a look before replying in unison.

"Nope."

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[prettyshittywriting]

"He hit me and it felt like a kiss"

Caitlyn Kiramman x fem reader (angst)

somewhat TOXIC RELATIONSHIP (idk)

like 2k words almost PART1

PART2 ⬇️⬇️

You and Caitlyn had been together for years. You met at school, falling for her sharp wit and soft heart, and she fell just as hard for you.

For years, she had been the perfect girlfriend—always caring, always spoiling you, always making you feel like the luckiest person on earth.

You had even started talking about marriage. Life felt almost too good to be true.

Until Cassandra Kiramman died.

The end of your relationship wasn’t instant. It came in fragments, slow and agonizing.

It started with Caitlyn spending less time with you—caught up in funeral preparations, looking after her father, trying to fill the impossible void her mother left behind. She came home later than usual and left earlier each morning.

You tried to understand. She had just lost her mother. She was overwhelmed, exhausted, and grieving. You wanted to be there for her.

But no matter how much you reached for her, she kept slipping away.

The nights spent together became scarce. When she did come home, she crashed almost immediately, too tired to talk. The rare moments you got to voice your concerns were met with half-hearted promises—"I’ll take a break soon." she would say, only to be gone again the next morning.

Then she started meeting with Ambessa Medarda.

How you hated that woman.

You could see what she was doing—twisting Caitlyn’s grief into something cold, something dangerous. You tried to warn Caitlyn, tried to tell her that Ambessa was using her, manipulating her into being the perfect soldier.

But Caitlyn defended her. She defended all of it.

Then came the late-night training sessions. The sleepless nights. The plan to gas the Undercity.

One Week Ago

Caitlyn’s study was dimly lit. Blueprints and maps of the Undercity were all across her desk, marked with red ink. X’s and circles outlined her grim plan.

But your eyes were drawn to the vials.

Shimmering green liquid, neatly lined in a wooden case. The Green. A new variant of shimmer. A deadly toxin.

Your stomach twisted.

Caitlyn wanted to use this.

On them.

Your throat was dry as you finally found the strength to speak. "Caitlyn please tell me this isn’t what I think it is."

Across the room, Caitlyn turned to you, her blue eyes dark with exhaustion.

She looked so different from the woman you once knew—the woman you love.

Her posture was stiff, her shoulders squared, like she had already decided she would not be swayed.

"I’m going to do what Piltover should have done years ago." she said. "The Undercity is a breeding ground for filth, for criminals. We let it fester for too long, and now look at what it’s cost us."

You stepped closer, anger bubbling under your skin. "No." you snapped. "You’re not going to act like this is justice. This is revenge, Caitlyn. This is genocide."

Her jaw tensed. "Jinx killed my mother."

Her voice wavered—just slightly—just enough for you to hear the raw wound beneath her fury.

You knew what Jinx had taken from her. You knew how much Caitlyn had loved her mother.

But Caitlyn was looking at the entire Undercity like they all had blood on their hands. Like they all fired the shot that killed Cassandra Kiramman.

"I know she did." you said, voice softer now. "And it was horrible. But punishing an entire city for one person’s crime? Tell me you know that’s not right."

Caitlyn’s expression darkened. "Do I?"

A chill ran through you.

"Every day I spent in the Enforcers, I saw how we tried to fix that place. And every day, they spat in our faces. We gave them mercy, and they took it as weakness. We offered them a future, and they burned it to the ground."

You shook your head. "No. You didn’t ‘offer’ them anything, Cait. Piltover kept them down, kept them desperate. And when people are desperate, they do things they shouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean they deserve to die!"

"You’re too naive." Caitlyn scoffed bitterly. "You think they’re innocent? The same people who build Jinx’s bombs? Who sell shimmer? Who kill Enforcers in the street—"

"Not all of them!" you cried, voice breaking. "There are children down there, Cait. Families. People who just want to survive. Are you seriously telling me they all deserve to die?"

For a moment, something flickered in her eyes. Doubt? Pain? You weren’t sure.

"She’s down there." Caitlyn said, voice tight. "Jinx is down there. And I will find her."

"Then find her." You stepped forward, gripping the edge of her desk. "Find her. Bring her to justice—hell, kill her if you have to. But don’t take innocent lives with her, Caitlyn. Please."

Silence.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched.

"I have to do this."

A lump formed in your throat. "If you do this," you whispered, "I don’t know if I can stand beside you anymore."

Caitlyn inhaled sharply.

And then, without looking at you—"Then go."

Your heart stopped.

Tears burned in your eyes as you turned and left.

And Caitlyn Kiramman was alone in the dark.

Now

She did it.

She gassed the Undercity.

And every night since, she had sent you messages.

Begging you to come home. To talk. To forgive her.

You hated to admit it, but you missed her. The warmth of her arms. The way she smelled. Even the way she would put her cold-ass legs on you in bed just to hear you complain.

So you finally went home.

You didn’t text ahead. It was your home too.

You stepped inside, heart pounding. She wasn’t in the living room, so you headed for the bedroom—

And froze.

There she was. In bed. With Vi.

They hadn’t noticed you yet.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you practically screamed.

Both of them jolted upright. Caitlyn’s face paled.

"Oh, sweetheart, we were just talking about business in the Undercity—"

"Talking about business with Vi in our bed?"

The way she froze told you everything.

Your heart shattered. Your breath came in ragged gasps. "Did you sleep with her?"

Caitlyn looked away.

"Oh my god." Your voice cracked. "You actually did it."

"I made a mistake—"

"A mistake?" You let out a bitter laugh. "You don’t get to call it that. This was a choice."

Caitlyn reached for you. "Please—"

You stepped back. "Don’t."

Her voice cracked. "I can’t lose you."

Tears blurred your vision. "You already did."

And with that, you walked out.

This time, she didn’t chase you.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

bro idek I feel like this started completely different and ended on a whole different note anyway enjoy ig

anyway I am feigning for any Caitlyn Kiramman content. god I love her so fucking much. she's so majestic. I wanna see her evil. I think it's cuz I expected her to be like the devil in s2 but honestly she was way 2 chill. like I was ready to defend her w my life but I barely had 2 cuz she was barely evil.

bro I've been like 2 happy recently so I needed angst to push me down a peg or 2

pls leave mfing requests or you will keep receiving this half assed bullshit cuz j got no mfing ideas!!😡

pls I need something 2 do I will literally write anyone atp! (not children or animals don't be weird)

[regtheseeker]

Wolfstar co-parenting Harry

Harry sat across from Ron in their train compartment, swinging his legs a little. The Hogwarts Express rumbled beneath them, and Ron was chewing on a chocolate frog, looking curious.

“So, d’you live with your parents?” Ron asked, mouth half-full.

Harry shook his head. “My parents died when I was a baby,” he said. Then, without thinking much about it, he added, “But I have three dads and one mom.”

Ron froze mid-chew. “What?”

“I have three dads and one mom,” Harry repeated.

Ron stared at him like he’d just said he had a dragon in his trunk. “But—you just said your parents died!”

“They did,” Harry said, like this was obvious. “But I still have them. Kinda.”

Ron frowned. “That makes no sense.”

Harry sighed and sat up straighter. “Okay, so my real parents are James and Lily. They died. But my dad’s best friends took care of me after—Sirius and Remus. So they’re my dads too.”

Ron was still frowning, looking very confused. “So… your dad is your dad, but also your other dads?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Sirius and Remus tell me all about James and my mum. They make sure I don’t forget them. It’s like they’re still around, ‘cause we talk about them all the time. Sirius always says my dad would’ve done something stupid, so he does it instead. And Remus tells me my mum would’ve told him off for it.”

Ron blinked slowly. “That’s...weird.”

Harry shrugged. “Not really. I’ve always had them. I don’t know what it’s like not to.”

Ron sat quietly for a second, then pointed at Scabbers, who was still sleeping in his lap. “D’you reckon your dads would let you have a rat?”

Harry thought about Sirius, who turned into a massive dog, and Remus, who was weird about full moons.

“No,” he said. “Definitely not.”

[rocknroll7575]

Knight of Olympus

*Hestia "Died" and Jaune is seeing Vesta for the first time*

Vesta: I know your mad, angry, Furious and I won't say you're wrong because I am so just say it

Jaune:.....

Vesta *Tears in her eyes*: TARTARUS SAKE JUST SAY YOU HATE ME, THAT MY PHYSICAL PRESENCE DISGUSTS YOU, HOW I ABANDONED OUR DAUGHTER, HO-

Jaune*cuping her cheek and wiping a tear away*: Your as beautiful as the day I lost you

Vesta sat close to the fire, her amber eyes reflecting the flickering flames as she watched the food cook, the scent of roasted meat and herbs mingling with the crisp night air. The steady crackle of burning wood was a comforting rhythm, one that she had grown used to during these long nights under the open sky. Yet, the peaceful moment was disturbed by the soft sound of approaching footsteps.

From behind her, Jaune strolled closer, his presence made known not just by his footfalls but by the gentle tune he whistled—a familiar melody, one that carried warmth and nostalgia. For the Dancing and the Dreaming.

Vesta flinched, her shoulders tensing for just a moment before she forced herself to relax. She didn't turn to face him, though; instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the fire, willing herself to stay composed.

Jaune, unfazed, eased himself down beside her, his voice carrying the song’s opening verse in a soft, lilting tune.

"I’ll swim and sail on savage seas~ with ne'er a fear of drowning~ And gladly ride the waves of life if you will marry me~" His voice was gentle, soothing even, as he let the melody drift between them like the wind stirring the embers. "No scorching sun~ nor freezing cold will st—"

"WILL STOP ME ON MY JOURney…!"

A second voice suddenly burst in, far louder and more enthusiastic.

Jaune and Vesta both turned just in time to see Leo, grinning wide—until realization struck. His face turned red, his bravado melting into sheepishness. "Sorry…" he muttered quickly before dropping back into his seat, suddenly very interested in the dirt beneath his boots.

Jaune sighed, shaking his head with a chuckle before picking up where he left off.

"If you will promise me your heart~ And love…"

He trailed off, his voice quieting as his eyes flickered to Vesta. She still wasn’t looking at him. His singing faltered, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against his knee. Maybe he’d pushed too much—

"And love me for eternity~"

Jaune’s breath hitched as Vesta’s voice joined his, soft but sure. Finally, she turned to him, her lips curling into a smile.

"My dearest one, my darling dear, your mighty words astound me~" Her voice carried a warmth that made Jaune's heart thrum. "But I’ve no need of mighty deeds when I feel your arms around me~!"

Jaune grinned, the hesitation in his heart vanishing. In one swift motion, he jumped to his feet, taking Vesta’s hands in his own and pulling her up with him. She let out a surprised laugh as he twirled her, the firelight casting dancing shadows around them.

"But I would bring you rings of gold, I'd even sing you poetry!" Jaune sang, lifting her effortlessly before guiding her into a sway.

Vesta giggled, her laughter light and unguarded. "Oh, would you?" she teased, her eyes shining.

Jaune rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Shaking his head in amusement, he continued to sing, his voice rising with playful intensity. "And I would keep you from all harm if you would stay beside me~!" he cried, his tone filled with conviction as he twirled Vesta once more.

She laughed, the sound light and free, before falling into step with him, moving effortlessly as if the dance had been written just for them.

With a teasing smile, she took the lead, her voice weaving through the night air as she countered his verse. "I have no use for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry~! I only want your hand to hold~!"

Her words were met with a beaming grin from Jaune as he stepped in close, keeping in perfect rhythm with her. "I only want you near me!" he sang in response, his voice carrying a sincerity that made her heart skip a beat.

With a sudden spin, Vesta found herself pulled into Jaune’s arms, her laughter mixing with the warmth of his embrace. He held her close, his grip steady yet gentle, as if anchoring her to him. The fire crackled beside them, casting golden hues over their entwined figures, but neither seemed to notice—lost in the music, in the moment, in each other.

Then, voices rose around them, blending into the song. Jason, Piper, and Leo, unable to resist, joined in, their harmonies filling the night with a joyful chorus.

"To love and kiss, to sweetly hold~! For the dancing and the dreaming~! Through all life’s sorrows and delights, I’ll keep your laugh inside me~!"

The melody carried through the campsite, a celebration of life and love beneath the starry sky.

"I’ll swim and sail on savage seas with ne'er a fear of drowning~! And gladly ride the waves of life If you will marry me~!"

As the final note faded into the night, a peaceful hush settled over them. The song had ended, but the warmth it left behind lingered.

Vesta tilted her head up at Jaune, her golden eyes alight with something soft and fond. That same lovely smile, the one she always wore around him, graced her lips—effortless, natural, and breathtaking.

Jaune returned the expression, though his own was laced with something deeper. His gaze lingered on her, drinking in the sight of her face, her warmth, the quiet joy in her eyes. For so long, he had thought this feeling lost—thought he would never see such beauty again. But here she was, standing before him, illuminated by firelight and starlight alike.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he saw the most beautiful sight he had ever known.

[filthyjoetini]

Fizzy

a/n: Hello, I'm back (well, kinda). I bought too much Coke and thought, What would my version of Joe say? …and ideas started bubbling—get it? Okay, enjoy.

warnings: No one proofread this. I just needed to get it out.

word count: ~1k

The kitchen was warm, the soft glow of the under-cabinet lights casting a golden hue over the countertops. The scent of cured meat and cheese lingered in the air as you stood in your pyjamas, your hair piled atop your head in a messy bun, preparing what was arguably the laziest dinner known to mankind: two slices of bread, a big blob of mayonnaise, a bit of meat, and a couple of slices of cheese.. Simple. No frills. Just enough to fill the hunger gnawing at your stomach without requiring too much effort.

It was quiet, except for the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of plastic as you folded the pack of meat closed. That was, until the front door clicked open.

“Babe, I’m home,” Joe’s voice rang out, low and a little weary but unmistakably warm.

A smile tugged at your lips as you turned your head, just in time to see him step inside, shaking a few raindrops from his hair. His curls were slightly damp, a sure sign that he had gotten caught in the drizzle on his way home. Before you could say anything, he crossed the small space between you, one hand sliding to the small of your back, the other cupping your cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

His lips were cool from the weather outside, a contrast to the warmth of his touch. The kiss lingered just enough to make your stomach flip before he pulled back, his big brown eyes scanning your face with that quiet, amused fondness that always seemed to settle there when he looked at you.

“Missed you,” he murmured.

You hummed, brushing a curl away from his forehead. “You were gone for like…four hours.”

“Four very long hours.” His grin was teasing as he dropped his tote bag onto the counter and stretched, groaning dramatically before making his way to the fridge. “What are you having?”

“Gourmet dinner,” you said, holding up your plate. “Bread, mayo, meat, cheese.”

He snorted, pulling the fridge open. “Classy.”

There was a beat of silence. Then another.

Then---

“What the hell—?”

You glanced over your shoulder. Joe was standing in front of the open fridge, staring at the shelves with an expression of pure bewilderment. His head tilted slightly, his eyes scanning the contents before he turned to you, one brow raised.

“Why,” he began slowly, “is our fridge entirely stocked with Coke?”

You bit your lip. “It’s not entirely—”

He gestured at the shelves. “There are fifty-odd cans of Coke in here.”

Your eyes flicked toward the fridge, as if seeing it for the first time. The shelves were, indeed, a sea of red and black cans—regular Coke on the top, Coke Zero on the bottom.

“I mean… we drink it,” you offered weakly.

Joe turned fully toward you now, arms crossing over his chest. He was fighting a smile, you could tell by the way his lips twitched, but he did a very convincing job of looking stern.

You exhaled, setting your plate down. “Okay, look, I went to get a six-pack. For each of us. Because obviously, I drink Coke Zero and you drink regular Coke.”

“Obviously,” he echoed, nodding.

“But they didn’t have six-packs. They only had twenty-four packs. And I panicked.”

His brows lifted. “You… panicked?”

“Yes!” You threw your hands up, eyes going wide. “I don’t know! I just—I saw the giant packs, and I thought, ‘Well, we do drink a lot of Coke,’ and then suddenly I was at self-checkout scanning two massive cases and people were looking at me like I had a problem and—”

Joe’s laughter burst out before you could finish. It wasn’t just a chuckle, either, it was the full-bodied, head-thrown-back kind, the kind that shook his shoulders and made his nose scrunch up.

Your rambling died in your throat. “What?”

He shook his head, still grinning. “You do this. Every time.”

“I do what?”

“You buy weird amounts of things.” He gestured vaguely toward the fridge. “Remember when you accidentally ordered a year’s supply of rice because you thought you were buying a single bag?”

“…That was one time.”

“Or when you stocked up on pasta and we had to eat spaghetti for a month?”

“In my defence, it was a very good sale.”

He stepped closer, resting his hands on your hips, eyes still twinkling with amusement. “It’s adorable,” he murmured.

Your cheeks warmed. “It’s not adorable, it’s embarrassing.”

“It is adorable,” he insisted, dipping his head to kiss your temple. “You get flustered and overwhelmed, and then suddenly we’re the proud owners of enough Coke to survive the apocalypse.”

You huffed, but his lips were still brushing against your skin, and it was hard to argue when he was being this unbearably sweet.

“So,” he mused, pulling back slightly, “what’s the plan? Are we opening a drink shop? Selling cans on the black market?”

You rolled your eyes. “We drink it, obviously.”

“For the next two months?”

“For however long it takes.”

Joe chuckled, then stepped away, grabbing two cans from the fridge—one regular Coke, one Coke Zero. He popped them both open, handing yours to you before clinking his against it like a toast.

“To my darling, slightly chaotic, very adorable over-purchaser,” he said with a smirk.

You narrowed your eyes but couldn’t stop the small, reluctant smile that tugged at your lips. “To my insufferable but charming boyfriend.”

He grinned. “I’ll take it.”

-

Tag list (most of you guys aren't around anymore, am I right?): @ohmeg @daleyeahson @lma1986 @palomahasenteredthechat @mandyjo8719 @aysheashea @littledemon-lilith @readergf @sidthedollface2 @i-wont-run-this-time @miserybeans @kylakins88 @thehillzhaveeyez @punctualhowell @icallhimjoey @ghostinthebackofyourhead @siriuslysmoking @cancankiki @definitionwanderlust @1paire2vans @theonewiththecrackedmind @fromasgardandback @captainonaboat @josephquinnsfreckles @emilyslutface @alessxaa

[imsogonesposts]

Is This Seat Taken?

|| ao3 || an: this is part of a series, but each fic can be read on its own || Not What I Thought Series Masterlist || Finnick Odair Masterlist ||

summary: A modern college AU. Maybe Finnick Odair isn't as bad as you thought he was. (wc: 1046)

Warnings: my knowledge of fraternities, sororities and all that is extremely limited to the movie scream 2 and the show scream queens, so take that with a grain of salt. (yes I got the fraternity name from scream queens, shhh)

Most people knew the name Finnick Odair. It was almost impossible not to, as he was president of Kappa Kappa Tau (KKT for short), the most popular fraternity the University of Panem had to offer. Finnick was the guy almost every girl had a crush on. The guy everyone seemed to flock to, the guy everyone wanted to be friends with, the guy everyone wanted the smallest piece of attention from. The guy who couldn’t help but annoy you the slightest bit due to his and his fraternity brother’s sometimes reckless behavior. 

“Hi, is this seat taken?” A voice asked, causing you to look away from your laptop and up at him- at Finnick. He was dressed in a grey hoodie and sweatpants, his hair disheveled just enough to almost look intentional, his green eyes lookinginto yours as he awaited an answer. 

“No,” you answered, “no, it’s not. Feel free.”

Finnick nodded with a smile placing his Jansport book bag on the floor as he took the seat next to you. Your seats weren'tclose enough to the professor to be called on, but not far enough that you would get distracted easily. 

“I’m Finnick,” he told you suddenly, interrupting your thoughts as you mindlessly scrolled through the last class's notes. 

You nodded as if you didn’t know who he was, as you told him your own name. He repeated the name slowly, as if testing it out before smiling an almost charming smile. “Pretty name,” he told you.

“Thanks, my parent’s picked it,” you replied noncommittally, as Finnick let out a laugh. A genuine, real laugh. 

“So, isn’t it a bit late to be joining the class?” You asked, finally turning to face the boy next to you after his laughter had died down. 

It was true, class had started almost a month ago, and this was the first time you had ever seen Finnick in class.

Finnick shook his head no as he fished a blue notebook out of his bag, followed by a black pen. 

“Nah, I’ve been here the whole time,” he replied, “used to sit in the back with some of my buddies, but I wasn’t doing much but goofing off, so” he shrugs, “thought it’d be better if I sat closer up front. Maybe I could actually learn a thing or two.”

You hummed in response as Professor Beetee began to write a math equation on the board. Luckily, Finnick had taken it as a sign to stop talking, pay attention, and began scribbling notes in his notebook, not interrupting you unless it was to ask a question. 

An hour later, math class was over. 

“So, what’s your major?” Finnick asked as the two of you began packing your stuff away.

“Hm?” You asked as Finnick repeated himself.

“Your major? I just thought if we were gonna be sitting next to each other for the rest of the semester, I should get to know you some more,” Finnick replied with a shrug as he slid his backpack on, carrying it off one shoulder as the other strap hung loosely to the ground. 

You paused at that, furrowing your brows as you asked, “oh, so this’ll be a weekly occurrence?”

Finnick nodded slowly. “I mean, unless you think I’m gonna distract you, or you just don’t want me to sit next to you,” he nervously trailed off, his hand holding that onto the book bag, now drumming against the strap. 

Despite how you felt about him, about fraternities and sororities in general, something inside you told you to just let him sit next to you. Maybe he really did just want to focus more in class and his friends had been distracting him. It wasn’tlike he had been distracting you either, he had left you alone to do your work for the most part. Plus, it would be nice to have a friend in class.

“No, it’s okay, you can still sit here,” you replied softly before telling him your major. 

Finnick smiled, a charming smile that almost made you understand why so many girls in this school seemed to have a crush on him. Seemed to sigh and giggle and twirl their hair whenever he was brought into a conversation. 

“That’s cool,” Finnick replied, “I’m doing marine biology.”

Your eyebrows shot up at that causing Finnick to laugh. 

“I’m guessing that’s a surprise?” he asked through his laugh. 

 You nodded. “Yeah, sorry,” you said through your own, nervous, laugh. “I don’t know, I guess I was just expecting something like business or accounting. Isn’t that what most frat guys major in?”

“Oh, you think I’m in a frat, huh?” Finnick asked, wiggling his eyebrows with a smirk. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics.  “Everyone knows you’re in a frat, Finnick. Aren’t you the president of the most popular one?”

Finnick smiled. “I am,” he easily replied.

Just as he was about to say something else, a voice from the back of the class interrupted him. A blonde boy with hazel eyes yelled, “Yo, Odair, you coming?”

“Just a sec,” Finnick replied to him before turning back to you with a smile.

“For the record, not all frat guys major in business,” he said, nodding his head toward the blonde boy who had just called for him. “Peeta over there is majoring in the culinary arts.” 

He said “culinary arts” in a horrible French accent that you couldn’t help but laugh at.

“God, that was awful,” you teased as Finnick’s smile seemed to have almost grown twice in size. You could notice the slightest crinkle in the corner of his eyes as he looked at you. 

“I’ll see you next week, then,” Finnick said with a wink before walking up the stairs, to his awaiting friends. “Make sure to save me a seat!” He called out to you as he and his friends made their way to the exit. 

And despite yourself, you couldn’t help but want next week to come, if only to deal with Finnick’s dramatics again. To laugh like that again. You found it was easy to talk to him. Easier than you expected, at least. 

[hopelessromwriter]

Shattered Trust

Rhysand had never been this angry before. Not in the centuries he had ruled, not in all the wars he had fought. Not even under Amarantha’s reign had rage burned through him like this.

Because this wasn’t about war. This wasn’t about courts or politics.

This was about his daughter.

His daughter, who stood in front of him now, arms crossed defiantly, jaw clenched as she faced him without fear.

“You lied to me,” he said, his voice deadly quiet.

She didn’t flinch. “I handled it.”

“You handled it?” Rhys’s voice rose, a storm beginning to gather in his chest. “You think sneaking off to the Autumn Court, alone, without telling a single soul, was handling it?”

Feyre stood beside him, her expression tight with barely contained fury. “You could have died.”

“I didn’t,” Liora snapped back. “And I got the information we needed, didn’t I?”

“That is not the point!” Rhysand exploded, his wings flaring out. Shadows curled at his feet, feeding off the barely restrained rage pulsing through him. “You disobeyed a direct order. You went alone. If something had happened—”

“But nothing did!” she argued. “And I would have told you eventually!”

Rhys let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Eventually?” His hands clenched into fists. “How, exactly, were you planning on telling us? Over dinner? ‘Oh, by the way, I infiltrated the Autumn Court on my own, but don’t worry, it all worked out’?”

Her silence was answer enough.

Nyx had been standing off to the side, arms crossed, his own anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. But now, he stepped forward. “What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was tight with frustration. “I would’ve gone with you. We all would have.”

Liora turned to her brother, something softer flashing across her face, but she held her ground. “I didn’t want to risk anyone else. I knew I could do it alone.”

Rhysand’s fury only grew. “You are not alone! You are never alone!”

She shook her head, exasperated. “I didn’t do this to spite you!”

“Then why?” Feyre demanded, stepping forward. “Why risk your life like this?”

“Because I wanted to prove that I could!”

The words echoed through the River House like a slap.

Rhysand inhaled sharply.

Liora’s breathing was unsteady, but she refused to break eye contact. “I’m not just your daughter. I’m not just the High Lord’s child. I’m a warrior, I’m a fighter. And I needed to prove it—to myself and to everyone else.”

“You have nothing to prove,” Feyre said, her voice soft but firm.

Liora shook her head. “Maybe you don’t think so, but everyone else does. The Inner Circle, the Illyrians, the other courts—they all see me as your daughter, Rhysand’s daughter, Feyre’s daughter. They don’t see me.”

Rhysand’s heart twisted.

“We never wanted you to feel like you had to live up to anything,” he said, his voice quieter now, though still edged with frustration.

“But I do,” she whispered. “And that’s why I did this. I wanted to prove that I’m more than just your child.”

Rhysand stared at her, at the determination in her eyes, the same determination he had seen in Feyre so many times before. And beneath the anger, beneath the fear, something else crept in—understanding.

He had been just like her once. Reckless. Desperate to prove himself.

Still, that didn’t erase the fury or the gut-wrenching fear that had clawed at him when he realized she had been in danger.

He exhaled slowly. “If you ever—ever—do something like this again, I will ground you for the next century.”

A flicker of relief crossed her face, as if she had expected worse. “Understood.”

Nyx still looked irritated, but he sighed. “Next time, you tell me first.”

She gave him a small, sheepish nod. “Okay.”

Feyre reached out, brushing a hand over their daughter’s hair. “We only worry because we love you.”

Liora swallowed. “I know.”

Rhysand stepped forward, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “Never again,” he said, the command in his voice clear.

She met his gaze and nodded.

And for now, that was enough.

[thecaptainofcosmichorrors]

[What do you mean cosmic horrors can be sad too?!]

A Shoulder To Cry On

Pure Vanilla Cookie x reader

[Warning/notes: hurt/comfort, fluff, reader is overworking themselves and hypercritical of themselves]

…

How much could one cookie take before they buckled under the weight of their own troubles? Could one sorrow be so plentiful that their self-destruction would be assured? Whatever the answers to these questions were, you could hardly care less.

You had work to do, no time to mope and wallow in self-pity; not to mention, that you wouldn’t dare bother Pure Vanilla with such trivial problems—not when he was swamped with his own work. Regardless, you still felt terrible. Once again you become overzealous in your work and your health had fallen into the wayside, a rookie mistake in hindsight, but you couldn’t help yourself! This has been the most motivated you had been in ages—you had to take up the opportunity, how would you have known your devotion would be your undoing? Well, maybe you should’ve known, but self-reflection was always easier after the fact.

You found yourself sitting down at your desk, staring blankly at your work; you could almost feel the dread of continuing on, but if you stopped now, would you ever get the motivation to start it back up? Besides, you were so close to finishing… might as well push through it. Minutes turned into hours of tirelessly working, everything every new contribution looked worse than the last; only frustrating you further as you kept at it until finally,

You couldn’t.

A disgruntled grown escaped your lips as you pushed aside your work in a bout of contempt, holding your head in your hands. Nothing was turning out right, but it needed to be done— How on earthbread would you get this done if you couldn’t even sit down and complete it?! You sighed, looking up from your hands to glare at your horrendous progress; as if that alone was enough to make it fall in line, it was not, but the sentiment was there.

Unbeknown to you, you ‘two’ were not the only one to witness such a display; a fact that hadn’t dawned on you until you leaned back your chair, glancing at the entrance to see—Pure Vanilla?! A bit startled, you instinctively tensed.

“Oh, I’m sorry my love. It was not my intention to scare you.” He spoke up apologetically before bowing his head towards you, further solidify what was already stated. You just simply waved it off. “It’s fine, wasn’t really even scared—it’s just…” you paused, tilting your head to the side as you eyed him curiously. “Wait, how are you back so soon? I thought you had some business to attend to with Hollyberry Cookies.”

Pure Vanilla nodded as he made his way to you “I did, but we were able to find a resolution fairly quicker than I had initially anticipated, so I decided to make my way back to check on you.” He stopped just shy from your desk, the desk you had to practically chained yourself to for the better part of a day. You had been inadvertently ignoring him, and yet, had nothing to show for it. No grand Symphony. No stroke of brilliance, just subpar work that you couldn’t bring yourself to let him see; so you covered it, placing your hand on top of it to hide your failure best you could—the mark of a guilty conscience. “… Well thank you for checking on me Nilly!” You meekly smiled, trying your hardest to avoid his knowing gaze as you fell into an uncomfortable silence; all you want to do was to just curl in on yourself…

Not that your boyfriend would let you do that, Pure Vanilla was the first to break the silence yet again. “Are you alright dear?” You both knew that wasn’t a real question, instead an invitation. After another moment, he gently coaxed you to look at him; while his concern was evident, that was no judgment to be had— just pure love.

Your eyes grew cloudy and your throat seized to hold all moisture under the weight of the ‘question’. Slowly, you shook your head—your words failing you. With that, your boyfriend took no time to close the distance; hugging you close to his chest.

There it was, the final stick to break the dam. You let it all out: your grief, your exhaustion, your fear of failure, your fear that you had failed him—It all came pouring out. It was messy, yes, but that didn’t seem to bother Pure Vanilla; instead he only listened, occasionally encouraging you to continue route all your grievances, rubbing circles along your back as you let out the mess that was your emotions.

Eventually, your incoherent sobs turned into soft sniffles, and only then did Pure Vanilla take the opportunity to speak “It’s ok my heart,” he said, still hugging you close. “You haven’t fail me and you are not a failure, far from it—I am proud of you no matter what, and I am ever devoted to you.” With that, he kissed your forehead. He chuckled a bit as you yawned, it seems exhaustion has finally gotten to you. Your boyfriend was quick to spring to act, encouraging you up before guiding you to your shared sleeping quarters; not like you had the energy to push back much anyways, you were fine just following his warmth. After making sure you were settled in, he turned his attention to your shared bathroom “Allow me to run you a good bath dear.” Any reluctance to his temporary leave was quickly forgotten with a soft kiss that seemed to follow soon after.

Before you knew it, it was night and your lover had successfully ran through his checklist of all the things you had seem to neglect; you had some of your favorite snacks thanks to your blonde hair sweetheart, and were now nuzzled into bed. Pure Vanilla initially had just sat on the edge of the bed, but even in your tired state, you wouldn’t let him not avoid taking care of himself too. He let out breathy chuckle, “Dear, you truly spoil me.”

Soon the two of you found yourselves woven into each other’s embrace, a tranquil peace permeating the warm space. On the cusp of drifting off, a soft “I love you” could be heard; leaving a warm fuzzy feeling in your chest. You drowsily looked over to see Pure Vanilla already asleep, you press to him further before mumbling an “I love you too nilly” before finally falling to sleep yourself.

…

Little did you know, Pure Vanilla hadn’t be asleep quite yet.

[penguinly]

So uh... I got randomly really motivated and wrote 752 words of madness in like an hour? I am a really yappy wall. Enjoy!!!

PUMPKIN SOUP STORIES

The pumpkins on Skyloft looked like actual pumpkins. Which was weird because Wild knew that Sky was supposedly the furthest removed from him in time so theoretically they should’ve had the most differences in their food. But no, the pumpkins were definitely the same as the ones Wild bought in Kakariko, just slightly less fortified. 

Wild put the last of the butter into the pot. He was following the same recipe he used with his own era’s pumpkins but the results were looking good so far. He picked up the new ladle Four had gifted him last week (the old one had shattered against a bokoblin’s head a month ago) and stirred the soup. 

Maybe it was the altitude or the very stressful week he’d had in Hyrule’s Hyrule but Wild didn’t notice someone approaching until they were already standing right next to him. He craned his neck back to glance at them before turning back to the stew. 

“Do you need any help with the stew?” Hylia – no, Zelda – no, Sun asked. 

“No. I’m basically done.” Wild said. 

“Okay. Has the altitude sickness gotten any better?”

“Yeah, the green potion worked. I could probably sleep for a week, though.”

Sun smiled at this. “I get what you mean. I took a thousand year nap after my first time on the surface. Well, I suppose that was a little different – but still.”

“Oh, I was only out for a century,” Wild replied, picking up the ladle again.

“What?”

“Huh?”

Wild looked up again at Sun when she didn’t respond. He stirred the soup and set down the ladle. “So… why were you asleep for a millenia?”

Sun didn’t answer right away, instead choosing to sit down next to Wild with her gaze fixed on the pumpkin soup. She told him about growing up with Link on Skyloft and the knighting ceremony. She told him about falling to the surface for the first time, alone and afraid. She’d led her best friend through the unknown and dangerous new world. Then she’d sacrificed herself for a thousand years to seal the inevitable darkness away until she awoke. 

She told him about The Imprisoned and Demise and even though Wild knew how Sky’s story went, he still listened. So when she reached the end of that story he told his own, or what little he knew of what came before and the life he’d lived in the aftermath. 

He told her about his family, the one he knew not in his own memories but from the little pieces that Mipha remembered. He had a sister, once upon a time. There was no knowing if they’d died during the Calamity. He told her about becoming a knight when he was twelve and a royal guard just two years later. 

Then he told her about the Calamity and the guardians and waking up alone and free a hundred years later. She listened when he told her about the months of preparation and happiness he lived before fighting Ganon once more in a fight both far harder and far easier than he could ever have imagined. 

The pumpkin soup was done by then so Wild split it into ten portions and called over the rest of the group to join them. The stories went forgotten as Wind burned his tongue and Sky finally got around to properly introducing everyone to Sun. 

They didn’t stay on Skyloft long, stories of unnaturally strong monsters across Hyrule calling them down to the surface for another week before they stepped through another portal and were gone. 

The next time they returned, Wild let Sun scoop the seeds out of the pumpkins (he would never trust anyone with the cooking pot again after Hyrule managed to light his ladle on fire). They laughed as they worked, scars that had been too raw the last time they met now healed enough to make light of. 

They talked about their lives between their own adventures and the first portal. Sun told Wild about her childhood misadventures with Sky and Wild in turn told her about Flora and her fascination for frogs. 

Wild took a small pouch of Skyloftian pumpkin seeds to try growing in Hateno that visit. He smiled faintly to himself when he noticed it was missing one day. He turned in the direction of a familiar castle that would soon become the ruins he’d woken up to two years ago. 

The pumpkins on Skyloft looked remarkably similar to the ones in Wild’s Kakariko.

Yall, I just realized a thing...

WILD AND SUN WOULD BE BEST FRIENDS.

hear me out here.

Both of them died, came back, and had to restore their memories. They both deal with feeling like an intruder in their own body, feeling like they can't live up to who they used to be in their past life. WAR PTSD!! FLASHBACKS!!! They're both knights (sort of? This is a bit of a stretch lmao) Sun went to a knight school, Wild used to be a knight before he kicked the bucket.

I need more content of them interacting and just relating to each other. Because they really would relate. Their experience of dying and coming back is not a very common one, and having someone else to relate to would probably make them overjoyed. Also, Wild has already spoken to her. Mostly just as a business exchange and she's Hylia then, but STILL. Pls someone write a fic abt them, I will marry you. This is my official proposal. Compete for my aroace hand right now. GET WRITING PLEASE YOU'LL HAVE MY SOUL. (because I'm too lazy to)

[littlechaoscosplay]

More than enough

SolasXLavellan

Rated (T).

He found it a bit strange that his love is sleeping in just a tad later than normal

Solas sat the cup next to her plate filling it close to the brim of the warm beverage, knowing full well she is not a morning person and looking at the time he had a feeling she might need the extra pick me up.

However as he awaited to hear her foot steps that would slowly make their way through the room, it didn’t come. It was strange but not worrying he did warn how the lighthouse could effect someone’s inner time clock due to its nature.

But as time passed and the steam from her cup died; it was then something did not feel right and he headed straight to her room.

As he walked he kept his composure; rationalizing that she must have stayed up later after he had fallen asleep; that or her mind is elsewhere and had simply lost track of the time.

He stopped at the door and gave it a few gentle knocks; no answer.

He knocked once more, silence.

He swallowed back the anxiousness as he slowly opened the door, just to peak to ease his thoughts. He looked to see her still in bed; and could see the gentle rise and fall of her breaths, he chuckled to himself feeling a bit foolish but before he could close the door, “…Wha.”

He paused, “A-apologize vhenan…you have slept in quite a bit.”

In the darkness with just the small stream of light bleeding in he could see her sit up, wiping her eyes before looking to him, “Oh…I’m-” She wiped her eyes again, “I’m sorry, I’ll be right there.”

A simple answer but it felt…off.

Perhaps lingering worry was still itching in the back of his mind that he could not leave. “Are you sure you are alright…?” He asked quietly.

She turned away from him as if she was searching for something, “Yes, I’m fine.” She answered.

He frowned, and made his way into the room. That tone of voice he knew, a tone that was used in front of companions , the tone used to ease the worry of the masses. He took a seat next to her making her jump at the feeling of the bed dipping slightly.

“My love” He started carefully, “Please look at me.”

She kept her gaze from him, “I will be only a minute.” She assured in that unchanging happy tone.

“Inquisitor.”

He could see her freeze tilting her head confused, “Why are you calling me-“ she stopped when she almost looked at him.

“Because the Inquisitor tends to put on a very convincing act when she is trying to conceal her true self.”

“Not unlike someone I know?” She joked.

He chuckled, “Yes…and dare I say I pride myself in knowing when someone is lying to me.”

She let out a small breathy laugh, “…I’m just tired is all, I’m sorry I worried you.”

He felt a pit in his stomach, the sense of uneasiness still there but not wanting to pry made it unbearable, “I could bring something to eat here?” He then offered.

“Honestly, I’m not very hungry at the moment.”

He nodded, but wasn’t sure if she noticed as she was still looking away from him, “How about a beverage at least? Something hot, may-haps?”

“That…would be nic-” She then shook her head, “Actually no, it’s alright.”

“Would you like to lay down a bit longer, I can wake you later?”

“I think I might;yes...”

It was a silent acknowledgment as he got up, looking back to see her slither under the covers before closing the door. It was still there as he walked the halls down into the small courtyard. The worry, along with an almost helplessness.

Back in the days of the Inquisition he knew the brave face she would display but the natural anxiety that came with sudden leadership never left her bed ridden, at most caused her to be a tad exhausted or needing a small moment to herself to collect her thoughts.

He remembered watching her closely in the beginning more so to make sure the anchor that once marked her hand would not outright kill her, But then saw the stress of it all forming and how it effected her and would offer little comfort he could give in those moments, it was at first selfish acts of kindness to make sure she was able to continue the duty to right his mistake but as they got to know one another…

He cursed himself everyday since for damning such a kind soul to such a cruel fate.

And now he is finding that he has done so again, even though she consented to being with him, even though he warned her…no, he should have done more, he managed to push her away twice but in that moment his selfishness took over. The moment a prideful; cowardice man could not bear the thought of being alone, even though he deserved to be…

She must be suffering yet again because of him, the lighthouse does offer its comforts but he is still bound to the fade and the crossroads, he cannot journey the waking world however she is not, She can still leave. She should not be burden with any more of his wrongs.

He turned heel and went back to her room, he must do this now, before he finds himself unable.

He reached for the handle and announced his presence as he slowly opened the door, only to be welcomed by a darken room, she was still sleeping and he felt a pang of regret as he approached to wake her.

He took a breath before lighting one of the lanterns near the bedside, but as the soft glow illuminated the room it did not seem to bother her, she laid peacefully.

He leaned in but lost his courage to speak and instead gently brushed the loose strands of hair from her face it was then he noticed the deep shadows under her eyes, his voice was still lost in his throat as he carefully pressed his hand to her forehead, a small relief that she did not have a fever. His hand then instinctively moved to stroke her hair softly, he had to hold in a laugh as she moved her head into his touch further.

But stopped as her eyes fluttered open, “S-solas?” She said her voice slightly hoarse.

“I am here.” He answered; finally finding his voice, “How are you feeling?”

“Better…” She said as she sat up.

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, he knew this was for the best, “M-may I speak candidly?”

An uneasy smile slowly formed as she spoke, “You may?”

He knelt down beside her, “Vhenan, You being here is the greatest gift I do not deserve, but seeing how my imprisonment is effecting you so…I do not think it’s wise for you to continue being here… being with me.”

Her eyes widened she went to say something but all she did was stare.

He continued, “You have always deserved the best.” He then chuckled as he felt his eyes start to burn, “-and I knew this wasn’t, I should have stopped you…”

Her head slowly shook, as her sleepy demeanor quickly fell at the suddenness of what was being said, “I-I do not understand, I chosen to be here…”

“I know but seeing you so ill because of this, you still have a chance to live a better life.”

She went quiet, pressing her eyes shut, “You are worried because…” She let out a shaky breath in hesitation, ”I am not ill from being here; being with you Solas…it’s because of my own self.”

His eyes narrowed, “Whatever do you mean?”

He patiently watched as she looked for the right words before turning to him almost defeated , “For as long as I can remember I’ve had this…ailment, so-to-speak.” She explained.

“But during the Inquisition…”

“I was better at hiding it.” She said bluntly, “My mind could not hinder me if it was occupied.”

“Your mind?”

She nodded, “Somedays It feels as if my mind and body are separated, my thoughts feel as if they are trying to claw at the inside of my skull while my body lays heavy and just…aches.”

He swallowed down the shock of her words, “That is-“

“Unpleasant? It’s why I didn’t wish to tell you-anyone for that matter and just hoped the feeling would pass on its own as it usually does.”

“But even so….”

She placed a hand on his shoulder as she softly spoke, “You have your own self to worry about, and regardless on how it sounds it’s nothing compare what you face.”

His head lowered, “Instead I’m left with the knowledge that you suffer in silence?”

Her hand slipped from his shoulder and placed it back into her lap, “…You are taking this too seriously, just as I feared.” She muttered.

He frowned before getting up and taking a seat on the bed, “Of course I am…! If I can do anything to ease the pain of the woman I love; I will do everything within my power to do so.”

He was then taken aback when he saw tears begin to form in her eyes that she quickly wiped away with a genuine smile, “Sweet talker.”

“Vhenan…” he pleaded.

She thought a moment, “There is not much you can do, and I’m not speaking as though I do not wish for your help. I just…don’t really know what can besides waiting for it to subside.”

His face dropped, there had to be something, “You said in the Inquisition it did not affect you as terribly aside from the obvious duties was there anything else that kept you at ease?”

She laughed, “Quite frankly “ease” is not the word I would use…it was just dulled. But I see what you’re trying…” she closed her eyes, “I will say…this is nice; being able to talk about it.”

“I am to assume you had not brought it to anyone’s attention after the Inquisition?”

She shook her head, “I didn’t know how…and over the years it wasn’t something that was exactly my main concern.”

He winced, “Ah…”

She gave him a slight nudge, “Now, now don’t pout.” she teased.

“Apologies If not for me you could have-“ he stopped himself then carefully cupped her face, “No, this is not about me, Are you still feeling unwell?”

She leaned into his touch as she did before while she slept and hummed in contentment, “A little but it feels as though it’s settling, Thank you…vhenan, for listening .” She smiled.

He smiled back, “I only wish I could do more.”

She gently pulled from him and settled herself back down before reaching out, he accepted her welcoming embrace and made himself comfortable next to her. She nestled herself against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her bringing her closer.

“…Right now this is more than enough.” She whispered.

[starzgaze]

CONCEPT: folk legend!sjw/biologist!reader

tw: missing people, stalking, implications of cult, really really itty bittt twinge of yandere if you squint really hard. also mostly word vomit i just wanted this concept out of my head oh god

Imagine you're a biologist who decided to go back to your little town that's located nearby an eerie mountain thats surrounded with equally eerie forests. You heard from your parents that there was a sudden shift in the wildlife and the animals seems to decreasing in population which concerns the wildlife protection department of your town.

So this piques your interest and you decided to visit your hometown. You were warmly greeted by the locals and you caught up with your old childhood friends by drinking in the local bar where you swung your first drink. After all that you shifted back your focus on the main reason why you went back, the wildlife is acting strange.

You decided to daytime observation first, quietly watching the remaining animals and see what could possibly be behind the sudden disappearances of the animals. This didn't work much to your dismay so that means you had to conduct night time observations. Your parents was worried but you reminded that you're a licensed researcher and you know what you're doing. Reluctantly, your parents let you go out into the forest.

But of course before you leave, one of the town's elders grabbed you the side and gave you a warning. A warning that you should probably back out and continue with your daytime observations and not continue this one... You of course don't listen, you're an adult! Why will you sway to the words of an old lady or a stupid legend that was made for children to keep them in check? You're an adult, a person of science and logic. Folk tales are neat but isn't exactly your thing.

Though.. honestly you wished you heeded the elder's warning. When you entered the forest you saw things that wasn't there in the morning. Strange tied up sticks that was shaped like dolls hanged in the trees or twine wrapped around the trunks that had pieces of paper stuck on to it. You were pretty sure this is not the doing of an animal but what sick person would do this? It all looked so... ritualistic. You crouched down on to the leafy floor and picked up a 'doll' that fell off from the tree, it had a poorly sewed clothes on it and black coarse animal hair glued on to its head, resembling a pretty shaggy haircut. It looked like an old friend. You looked at it, noting the little details of the doll. This suddenly reminds you of a time when you were younger that there was a series of missing people cases in this town.

One of those victims was your friend, Jinwoo, and he was the last person to go missing during that time. You remember you were adamant on searching the forest yourself to find him but your parents stopped you and locked you in your room just in case you tried to sneaked out into the forest. You honestly missed him but you shook your head, dwelling on the past will hinder your research. Stepping away from the ritualistic scene, you continued hiking into the forest trying to find a suitable place to observe the wildlife in the night.

After a while of wandering around, you found a good place to set up your gear. You unzipped your bags and prepared your things when suddenly you felt a shift in the air, a shiver went down your spine when you moved your head to see if there was anything there. You were told the locals rarely walk outside anymore especially past 7pm, a result of the cases back then. So no one should be out at this hour in the forest, you should be alone.

You decided to ignore it first and focus on finishing your set up. When you finished gearing up and prepping your things you got another shot of eerieness that made your body tingle. Just what the hell is happening? You felt you were being watched from every angle but when you look around you don't see anything. Were you being preyed upon an animal?

You readied your pepper spray that was stored in your pocket, animals typically stays away from you if you're deemed as the biggee threat. So, as long you know how to appear bigger and scarier you should be fine. You've been doing this for years now but something tells you there's something not right, it feels... like it's not an animal preying on you but you can't exactly explain it. Your mind goes back to the moment where you stumbled upon a weird place in the forest that had a bunch of ritualistic things and you touched a weird doll that looked an old friend, it might be related to that.

Before you could continue deducing in your head you hear a loud crunch in the dark. This is starting to creep you out. You started to try to calm yourself and rationalize your thoughts. You're a person of science you shouldn't be this scared just think of something that makes sense it might be just a wolf or a bear.. hopefully. As you tried to steady your mind the light from your gear suddenly shuts off and you were enshrouded in darkness.

This is where the sounds of footsteps and howling started to intensify, Your heart was racing as you didn't move from your spot. You were shaking as you held your pathetic little pepper spray and tried to block out the noises. How the hell are you supposed to rationalize this?! You were panicking hard as you finally dropped to your feet and covered your ears, still holding the spray in your other hand.

Then all the noise stopped but you can feel SOMETHING behind you. It doesn't feel human or something you could comprehend and your mind is running back to the little warning the old sweet elder tried warninfg you of. Is this the end? They said it was monstrous from the rare sightings. I think you remember the elder saying it started appearing shortly after the end of the series of disappearances. Your mind is fogging up from panick.

You felt it's hand on your shoulder, it's cold breath right beside your neck. It spoke and... you recognize the voice. You finally turned your head and you were greeted with a pair of deep purple eyes staring right back at you, it felt like you were starung back to the abyss. You called out it's name

"Jinwoo?"