#now all i have to set up is the amount of spikes she haves on its head so it stops changing everytime-

[maskeddiany]

today in natural selection OC edition we have Wribbit spikes from being a hair simulation to more solid and defined thorns

[pelova4president]

Shadows are to protect I

Alessia Russo x Putellas!Reader

shadows are to protect II, III, IV

summary~ You just moved to Arsenal and everything was unknown to you but now you had Alessia. Your situationship with Alessia was everything but perfect but at least she was there, sometimes.

this is pure angst

Alessia is your whole heart. You could tell her that a thousand times and she still wouldn’t leave her boyfriend.

He doesn’t even get her, not like you do. He doesn’t appreciate her like you do. It should be you holding her hand on the streets. It should be you kissing her in the bars of London.

You didn’t really know when you started to feel that way. You’d just moved to England, a very scary move from your comfortable and warm Spain. Spain and Barcelona was all you’ve even known. Expending your world was just as terrifying as you’d ever believed.

The welcome was cold, very cold. It was the completely opposite of what you were used to, it was quite literally what you were petrified of. You left the warm sun kissing the dark little freckles on your face and exchanged the English rain dropping down on your hair. You weren’t even sure what to call it, not in English and not in Spanish either.

But even now you weren’t sure if you’d go back and stay in Barcelona. The sun might shine there most hours of the working days but you’d always be in the shadows. In the shadows of La Reina, Alexia Putellas, your sister.

The two coloured club had offered you a contract extension where you’d get paid twice the amount you did last year. You’d driven to the club like you did most days but this time you had one thing in mind, or so you thought. Signing for another three years and being the average defender in the team for whenever one of the original starters couldn’t participate.

A red and blue pen rested between your thumb and point fingers as you listened to your manager talk about the future. But most of it fell to deaf ears. “Alexia and you would be the head of the Champions League campaign. Imagine this, the Putellas hermanas on top of Europe.” he said full excitement. It wasn’t the whole campaign that set you off but how he began his sentence, ‘Alexia and you’.

You were sitting here, ready to sign your contract, for your future. They wanted you to sign and still their first thought was Alexia.

Without saying a word you stormed off. You were not doing this again for three more years.

You had spiked interest from multiple clubs, not only Europe but America too. But when Arsenal let your agency know that they wanted you, you knew that that was it. From now on you’ll be a gunner, through and through.

You got picked up from the Airport. With a sign reading ‘Putellas’. It felt good. They didn’t have to clarify which Putellas sister they were picking up, there was only one in London now, you. The bigger man, he might’ve even be twice the height of you introduced himself. And with the little English you had in store you thanked him and told him your name.

The man you now knew as Keith was a simple man. He opened the door for you and didn’t say much. You liked it that way, the silence was fine by you. You liked that the intimidating car you were sat in had tinted windows. Not so you couldn’t be seen but because it gave you some sort of comfort. When you were younger and Alexia was a rising star she had you sit in the backseat, where nobody could see you and where you’d be safe she’d say.

The little droplets of rain were doing races and you had lost for about the twentieth time when the car came to a stop. Keith grumbled something about being there and got out. You didn’t really know what to do and what they expected of you so you opened the car door. Picking your bags up you placed your right foot outside and your left followed.

It all went too fast, Jonas showed almost all the rooms in the building and the wet pitches that were not in any state to be used. You had to film a few shots for your signing announcement, get through a few medical test and finally got to go home.

Keith drove you to your temporary apartment just a few minutes away from the training ground. You had a streak of almost one hundred days of English on Duolingo so you thanked the tall man in the few words you had learned to say and got out of the black Range Rover.

You were home. You were home, you kept repeating those words but you didn’t believe it. You were home.

This is it now. North London is your new home.

The appartement was empty except for the blank furniture, it had no personality and it was hard to think there ever would be. Four white walls, a grey couch, a black kitchen and an all white bed in the middle of your bedroom. They didn’t even tell you that the kitchen would be just as empty as the apartment.

The sound of a notification alarmed you out of your emotionless state. You forgot to put your phone on do not disturb. ‘Where are you?’ it read. Alexia knew you didn’t sign for Barca the day before but she didn’t know you’d be gone by the morning. Tapping on the do not disturb mode you traveled to your all white bed.

And that is how it went, do not disturb mode on. You we there, at the training ground and the games but not really there. You weren’t in the right mindset to talk to anyone yet and that’s why it was so goddamn frustrating when McCabe or Mead tried to get you to talk.

You sat alone at lunch, didn’t go out with your teammates and barely stayed in contact with your sister. That was until Alessia Russo came into your life.

You didn’t mean to let her in. You decided early on that you were at Arsenal for your career and career only. But she changed that, so quick. And before you knew it you were falling for her.

She came into Arsenal and everyone was a fan of her. It seemed like she was friends with everyone instantly and it made you curious.

Alessia had been a gunner for almost a week when you realised she lived across from your apartment. She came knocking on your door one evening, offering you some of het pasta since she had made too much. You knew that she’d been searching for an opportunity to get you to talk to her but you didn’t expect her to come knocking at your door like that.

You let her in and she started to talk to you. You couldn’t exactly call it a conversation since she did all the talking and you muttered out some broken English once in a while. But even though you hated to admit it, she was nice company. It made you feel less lonely, she made you feel less empty.

You’d told Alexia about your move to Arsenal before it officially came out and she wasn’t pleased, at all. She was mad, mad that you didn’t tell her earlier. You told her what had happened and what was racing through your mind when you made the decision but she just couldn’t fathom out the thought of you feeling that way. And that made you feel even less understood, it felt like your life was slipping away from you and you only made it worse with every next move you made.

But Alessia made you feel like you were okay for a moment. After the first day of eating together she offered you food almost everyday and after a month it became a tradition, you would diner together every single day and she even learned you English. You didn’t really progress in your Duolingo streak and didn’t talk much either so the help was very much needed.

It wasn’t until the first half of the season had been played that you realised you had other feelings for her. You saw her as more than just a friend. It was all going very fast and the feelings intensified by the day, that may be because she was the only one you really could talk to. It hurt you to even think about living without her and that might’ve the first warning you should’ve seen but you didn’t.

It was Alessia who kissed you first. You both had been drinking and the two empty bottles of red wine next to your grey couch were the evidence of that. Alessia was a touchy person, just like everyone in Spain so you didn’t mind. She was giggly and teasing you relentlessly.

“I bet you think about me hmm?” she hummed and started to climb on top of you. Taken aback by the movement you didn’t really react to anything she had just said. “I want to kiss you.” she whispered into your ear that was tinted red by now. You didn’t answer. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay.” she leaned in, placing her pink lips on your red ones. It was sweet but turned desperate very quickly.

The blonde slept sweetly beside you that evening. The thoughts raced through your mind and none of them were making any sense. It was hard to think straight with Alessia next to you, that was what made things so complicated. But now that she was laying in your bed you couldn’t not have her there, you needed her.

Alessia started to stay over more and more, it became your new normal. Half of her closet was laying in yours and she even brought her favourite mug with her. You bought all her favourite foods so she would feel comfortable and she appreciated it, just not enough to stay with you.

You came home on a Thursday evening one day but Alessia was nowhere to be found. Normally she would be laying on your couch, watching some sappy Netflix show you refused to watch with her. A bowl of nuts in her hands she didn’t really like but it was a healthy snack so it would do. But the only thing you found on your couch was her blue hoodie. Well it was yours originally but she basically claimed it as hers now.

Putting your cold groceries away you walked towards Alessia’s front door. She had given you her spare key after leaving hers in her home, locking herself out for the second time. She had bought a keychain with it, a little Barca jersey with your name and number on it. You smiled down at the colourful jersey and opened the door.

Walking in you heard some laughter coming from the living room that you could describe in detail. It was a light living room with two big windows that were open at all times, she liked it that way. She bought a brown couch after you broke her beige one. You had gifted her a few plants to make the room a real living space but knew she didn’t really care for them so you’d come in and give them water.

The photo’s in her hallway were those of her mom, dad and brothers, who she adored so much. And even though she didn’t like to have pictures of herself in her home she had one of her and her best friend Ella after winning the Euros.

When you stepped into the living area you were a bit taken aback by the man sitting next to your Alessia. His left hand was draped over her shoulder, like it was the most normal thing. His right was resting on her thigh. Who was he?

You stood still, watching the pair until Alessia noticed you. Her eyes had gone wide. “Hey, what’re you doing here?” she asked carefully. You didn’t answer. “Luke, this is my teammate, and well, this is my boyfriend Luke.” she introduced you and stalked towards your frozen form.

Boyfriend? You thought..

Alessia gave her boyfriend some weak excuse and walked you back to your apartment. You were in your own home again, a safe place. When Alessia started to talk again you cut her off. “I- you have a boyfriend? I thought we had.. something?” you looked almost lost to her. “Well, you thought wrong. Whatever you thought we had, we didn’t.” she said without any emotion behind her eyes, like she hadn’t spent the whole of last week in your house, in your bed, wearing your hoodie.

She left your house like nothing had happened.

Were you really that stupid, did you really think she’d like you. You had created this whole other reality, one where she’d actually like you and wanted to be with you.

You kept to yourself even more now. Alessia had gotten you out of your shell to some extent but now you had crawled back in again. Every moment you weren’t training or playing football you were at home but it didn’t feel like home anymore. It wasn’t as empty as it was when it arrived but it felt like it. The life had gone away and that’s not something you can fix with a few overpriced paintings and some weird cactus.

You couldn’t eat dinner without Alessia, you couldn’t watch horrible movies without Alessia and you just couldn’t sleep in a bed without Alessia.

It was the one time you decided to go out and drink that she came over to talk to you again. She acted like nothing had ever happend, like it was back to normal again, like she had slept in your bed the day before. But you liked it, craved it even. You had longed for Alessia to come back again and save you from yourself.

So she ended up in your bed and stayed long enough for you to fall asleep. But not long enough for you to wake up to her scent or her sleepy blue eyes and messy blonde hair.

It went on like that, she came home with you for the night and you forgot about all the things she had done to you and you woke up to an empty bed. You did feel bad for the Luke guy, well you did in the beginning but somewhere along the way you started to lose that sympathy.

You were mad. Angry. He could drive her to training and hold her hand out in public. He could kiss her on the streets and wake up to her snuggled next to him. He could have all those domestic little moments and gestures you longed for. It wasn’t fair.

Alessia had prepared dinner for the both of you and you were watching a movie when you felt the need to talk to her about this whole situation. “Lessi, i really like you. I want you and i to be together because i love you.” there, you said it. Alessia didn’t look at you, she stared blankly at the movie infront of her. You reached for the distraction playing on the television and paused it but she still wouldn’t look you in the eyes.

“I love you.” you repeated again, hoping for a response. She sighed, “Look, i don’t know what you think we are but we aren’t that. I don’t know how many times i have to tell you this but i have a boyfriend and you’re just there for a quick fuck. That’s all. You’re not special just because your sister has won a few trophies. I can’t do anything about the fact that you’re fucking lonely but leave me out of it.” she hissed.

You just said you loved her, for the first time. You handed her your fucking heart and she stomped on it like it was nothing. Alesia knew your relationship with your sister was complicated and being in her shadows was something that hurt you the most in this world, but yet she brought it up. You’d told her everything you never dared to say out loud and she used it to damage you even more. She is your whole world but to her you’re a ‘quick fuck’.

You were hers but she’d never be yours

“Please go away.” you asked her, tears threatening to escape your tired glossy eyes.

You were left alone in your apartment and the loneliness was more torturous than ever. The fucking lasagna Alessia had made you had turned cold and you looked at the wooden table infront of you. There was a picture of you and Alexia framed, Alessia had printed it out to make you feel more like home but it only made you miss it more, especially now.

Looking at your phone you opened your chat with your sister. You hadn’t texted her in about a month, the last text being about your mothers birthday that you couldn’t attend.

You needed her, you needed you sister to protect you. You needed her to protect you from the sun and to place you in her shadows again. For once it was all you desired.

A/N let me know what you think of the fic!! Also, i don’t know if i should write a second part and if or how i should end up Alessia and R together. I could make R fall in love with someone else too??

[evangelical04]

A Single Daffodil || 2

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 9.1K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut

Author's Note: hi everyone! it's currently exactly 2am for me lol but I wanted to get this chapter out today! i was hoping to having the wedding happen but I like it more for the next chapter. all the support has been so overwhelming and amazing, thank you guys so much for all the love!! i appreciate it so much and I'm grateful that you all are so supportive, especially for my first ever fic. i really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! also, just let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist:

@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandylovejk @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling

previous / masterlist / next

You could feel your eyes glazing over with the amount of time you’d spent staring at your computer screen. A quick glance at the clock showed that only a couple hours had passed since you’d arrived at work, and a devastating thirty minutes remained until your lunch break. Rubbing at your tired eyes, you tried to find the energy to resume reviewing the materials your team had sent you, but you came up short. 

The wedding planning had been taking a lot out of you the past couple of months, even though your mother wasn’t letting you decide anything for it anyway. She had been quite clear that all you had to do was show up and that your input wouldn’t be needed. You couldn’t honestly say you had an issue with that, this didn’t feel like your wedding anyway. If it were yours, you would’ve been getting married to someone you love, and crucially, someone who loves you in return.

But that wasn’t in the cards for you and you knew that well, so you went along with your mother’s planning placidly, agreeing to almost everything she mentioned and getting ignored on things you didn’t. It left you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. It felt like an out-of-body experience every time your mother pulled you into another appointment for your dress fittings or makeup and hair test runs. You could feel yourself simply going through the motions and just waiting until the appointment was done so you could return to your mundane life. 

Not much else had changed, honestly. You were still working, hanging out with your friends on occasion, reading in bed, and watching television in the evenings. The only thing looming over you was the date of the wedding, now only six months away. It felt like an omen, always hovering near you, spiking your heart rate, and making you sweat. 

Even your team had noticed your heightened anxiety and expressed their worries to you, especially the youngest, Choi Song Ha. She was a cute, young thing, a fresh face in the industry that you had quickly taken under your wing once you had set eyes on her in the new recruit orientation you visited just over a year ago now. You knew just how quickly the gaming industry ate up and spat out women like clockwork and you didn’t want the same fate for her, so you’d snatched her up into your team. She truly felt like the little sister you’d never had and your bond quickly grew over the months since you’d met. She had picked up on your dampened mood and resolved to leave you small treats of a chip bag or chocolates on your desk every other day or so as a means to cheer you up. She knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t appreciate outright signs of concern or making a scene at work, and you loved her for it. 

She had left you a small red ginseng jelly this morning with a doodle of a grumpy cat stuck to it on a post-it note. It made you smile every time you glanced at it.

It kind of reminded you of Yoongi. The two of you hadn’t talked since that night in the restaurant, and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to talk to him. Your mother had given you his number and you’d saved it, but you hadn’t made any move to message him.

“Team leader?”

You turned, snapping out of your daze to face another one of your team members, Yeonsik. 

“Yes, Yeonsik,” you responded, trying to appear calm and collected, and not like you were just thinking about your soon-to-be husband who hates you.

“We have the materials from the character graphics department for Plan C ready, it’s in your inbox now. They said that they’re ready to make any changes you want, but they’re worried about the deadline for the second draft,” Yeonsik rambled. He was a nice man, only a few years younger than you, and quite passionate about his job since joining your team two years back, just after you’d become the team lead of Planning Group 1. He had a handsome face with longer, dark hair and bright eyes that were eager to please.

“Okay, thanks for letting me know. Also, good job on keeping Graphics 2 on track, I know they’ve been giving us a hard time with getting the updated designs over. Thanks again,” you said politely, sending him a small smile. Yeonsik beamed in response and returned to his seat happily. You chuckled fondly at his antics before opening the file he’d sent. You loved your team members and you held a high respect for them. You knew you led them well and that they respected you in return. It was a small team, consisting of only five people, including you, but you were content with the group and the dynamic. You often went out for drinks together after work, usually followed by karaoke and at least one member passing out, most often Yeonsik, who would then be picked up by his boyfriend. You were a close-knit group and you couldn’t imagine a better job.

Slowly, Mrs. Min’s words crept back into your mind at the thought of how much you loved your position. Surely, Yoongi wouldn’t expect you to quit your job? You wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

No, he said that he would do his thing and you would do yours, you reminded yourself. That’s right, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t interfere in each other’s lives. Except, you hadn’t really agreed, had you? You’d just acquiesced because he’d been in the motion of leaving anyway. You weren’t really sure if that’s what you’d wanted, living separate lives and being married only on paper. 

Yoongi’s words rang clear in your head as you gnawed on your lower lip, was this really how this marriage was going to be? The two of you not even acknowledging each other except at galas and parties where you had to appear married? You didn’t want that.

But…if Yoongi did, how much say did you really have? As much as you wanted to make this work, it had to be a two-way street. If Yoongi didn’t want anything to do with you, you would have to accept that and just try to get through this the best you could. You had said to Joohee that day you’d found out, that there’s nothing you can do to stop him. 

It felt painful to come to terms with, especially in the environment of your office where you still had to appear professional. Thankfully, you breathed, none of your team members had noticed your mini-mental breakdown. 

Your phone buzzed with a new message from Yujin, your mother’s assistant.

From Yang Yujin

Hello Miss Y/N,

Your mother has asked me to confirm your three attendees for your wedding invitations. The invitations will be sent out on Friday night, so please send your three names with their contact information and address to me by then. If possible, please send it at least one day beforehand as Mrs. Seo would like to review them before I send the invitations out.

Additionally, she has set up another meeting for you with Mr. Min Yoongi on Friday, at 6 pm. Please find the location details below.

Please let me know if you need any other information,

Yang Yujin

You sighed, reading over the email again. For one, you honestly didn’t even know who you’d want to invite. You didn’t really have that many friends outside of Joohee, your colleagues, and Jung Hoseok, your friend from college. You knew that Joohee would already be invited, but you weren’t sure about Hoseok. He wasn’t a part of the same social circle as you and Joohee, especially since he didn’t come from a richer family, but you’d met him in college and introduced him to Joohee soon after. The three of you had been practically inseparable during your undergrad but after graduation, the three of you hadn’t met up in person in a while, with Hoseok in Busan for work. You tapped your chin thoughtfully with the eraser end of a pencil, maybe you should send an invite to Hoseok. Suddenly, another thought occurred to you, making the pencil drop from your fingers and onto your lap.

You hadn’t even told Hoseok about Yoongi!

“Damn,” you muttered, making a mental note to call him later today. You’d figure out the other invites later. Your eyes drifted to the second part of the email. 

Another meeting, huh? It sounds like it’ll be just the two of us this time. I wonder if he’ll be any different.

A rap of knuckles against your desk brought your attention back in front of you. Song Ha stood beside your chair, looking at you curiously, “It’s lunch, Team Leader. Want to grab something with the team downstairs?”

Shit, you had agreed to grab lunch with Joohee today. 

“No, Miss Choi, I’ll be meeting a friend of mine. But you all enjoy your lunch!”

“Alright, have fun!”

The team slowly filed out, discussing amongst themselves what they’d get from the cafeteria today. You almost longed to go with them, but you knew you had to tell Joohee about the email you got. 

You could feel a headache coming on. 

Sighing, you stood and gathered your things into your tote bag, never having liked purses, and started the walk towards the elevators to reach the quaint cafe across the street you and Joohee liked to frequent. 

You had arrived before Joohee, which was to be expected with your office right across and decided to grab a table for both of you. Setting your tote bag in the seat beside you, you read the email once more on your phone. It dragged another sigh out of you before you almost jumped into the air at the sound of Joohee’s voice.

“What’s got you so melancholy?’

You breathed out to calm your heart rate from the mini jumpscare and looked up at her. She was dressed a bit more formal than you in a light blue blouse and dark navy dress pants that fell gracefully in silk around her long legs with a maroon purse hanging from her shoulder. Her office was much more formal than yours, working under her father. Your own office often had team leaders and higher-ups in jeans, the nature of your work making it more casual, so you contrasted her in a simple black sweatshirt and blue jeans. 

“I have to meet Yoongi again on Friday.”

“God damn.”

You nodded somberly as she took her seat across from you, “You remember what happened last time? Why does it feel like he’s gonna eat me alive this time?”

Joohee looked at you suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

You recoiled, shooting her a glare, “Good God, woman, not like that.”

Joohee relented, waving her hands in surrender, “Okay, well, assume he’ll be the same. Then you won’t be caught off guard. But I think you should still try to get through to him. Maybe, at the very least, you guys can become friends.”

You hummed in agreement, what she was saying made sense. You weren’t exactly hoping for a rom-com drama-like romantic relationship, but being friends wouldn’t be so bad. 

A waiter arrived, taking your drink and food orders, and you and Joohee fell back into easy conversation about your jobs and other small gossip. As much as you were trying to pay attention to what Joohee was saying, you couldn’t help your mind returning to Yoongi and his dark eyes scrutinizing you and his cold, biting voice. 

“Y/N?”

You focused back into Joohee and her concerned stare dug into you, “What?”

“Are you still thinking about Yoongi?”

You nodded, looking away. You felt bad for not listening to her especially when she had basically given you a solution to your anxiety regarding Friday. You heard her sigh before speaking. 

“Listen, Y/N, you can’t stop how he’s going to behave towards you. You can only control how you respond. I think your best bet is to try to tell him you’re not expecting him to treat you like a wife, but you want him to treat you like a friend. Unless that isn’t what you want.”

“No, it is,” you said, keeping yourself from burying your head in your hands, “And you’re right, that’s all I can do. Why didn’t you become a therapist, again?”

Joohee only grinned in response, “I’m too pretty.”

Joohee’s words from earlier echoed in your head for the rest of the workday. Did you really want him to treat you like a friend? Or something more?

You weren’t sure. Of course, you had this half-crush, half-infatuation with the man since you’d met him when you were younger, but marriage was a totally different game. Were you really ready to spend the rest of your life with a man you were attracted to but he couldn’t feel the same? 

Maybe he could.

You knocked that thought away as soon as it entered your mind, you shouldn’t be getting your hopes up. You knew that Yoongi was less than happy about the situation and the unfavorable circumstances would only serve to further distance him from you. You would have to be okay with just being friends if that. 

As you paced around your apartment later that night, you stopped in front of your dresser in your bedroom. In the third drawer from the top was the handkerchief that Yoongi had given you when you were younger. You had kept it meaning to give it back to him, but you had barely seen him since then, let alone had a moment in private to give it to him. 

Most of your interactions had been minimal conversations at parties and galas, often accompanied by Joohee and Seokjin. You couldn’t recall a time when Yoongi had actually talked to you directly in any of those scenarios. So why did your crush persist?

Maybe it was the innocence of your first meeting, the cliche of it all. You, small, sad, and alone, and Yoongi, showing up like your knight in shining armor. You had had a fascination with him since then, always trying to seek out his silhouette or pitch-black hair at gatherings afterward. Yet, he never approached you alone, nor did you make an attempt to do so yourself. You had called it an infatuation with Joohee because it really was, you didn’t really know anything about him, much less had a full conversation with him. Even when you were in a group with him, Seokjin, and Joohee, he would barely acknowledge you. 

Not that he was obligated to.

You fell back onto your bed and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a soft grunt when you hit the mattress. Would you be able to survive actually getting to know Yoongi? Your greatest fear was that you would fall in love with him, you were basically already primed for it. And that would not work out, you knew that, and you refused to consider any other outcome.

You couldn’t afford to get your hopes up.

Turning on your side, you could feel your thoughts drift to your few interactions with him growing up. He had always been polite, but cold. The most he’d said to you was a curt greeting and the barest of small talk. The only other interactions you’d really had were your first meeting and hearing about his escapades through the grapevine, mainly Joohee. Nonetheless, you found yourself infatuated, your eyes finding his slightly round cheeks and pouty lips inevitably. What would life be like once you got married?

You tried to imagine yourself in a domestic setting with Yoongi but quickly shut that down, that would only bring up unwanted feelings. You considered whether or not he would continue seeing other people after you were married. Joohee had said it was very possible. Would you be able to handle it? Joohee had suggested that you fool around a bit yourself but you had quickly dismissed that. Cheating was something you would never tolerate in a relationship, from the other person or from yourself. You knew that the reality would be different in your situation, but you still refused to let yourself stray from Yoongi.

Not that you hadn’t tried in the past. You had been in only two relationships leading up to now, one in college and another as a short burst after graduation. It all felt pointless when you knew you wouldn’t get to choose who you spent the rest of your life with. It was an agony that, along with other factors, ended both of your relationships. Mina had been a bright spot in your life, but she couldn’t deal with the fact that you were not only not out to your parents, but that you would likely not be able to be with her long term anyway. There had been other signs that the relationship wouldn’t work out, and you had tried to remain friends but it didn’t pan out past college. 

The relationship after college that had only lasted a few months was with Jaehyun, a sweet man who had been your coworker at your first job out of college. He was very kind to you and you felt comfortable in his presence, but you couldn’t handle the guilt of going out with him while knowing he wouldn’t be the one you marry. To his credit, he had been very understanding when you’d broken down in front of him in a guilt-fueled spiral. He’d held you until you calmed down, wiped your tears, and squeezed you tight before leaving, stating that you could always call him if you needed anything. You still messaged him sometimes, and you remained firm that if you did get to choose who to marry, he would be your first choice. 

The arranged marriage had been looming over your life since you were old enough to understand the importance of status to your family. You were sure Yoongi’s family was the same. You were both expected to keep your duty to your family, a repayment for the comfortable life you both had lived. Once or twice you had considered telling your parents you wouldn’t go through with it when the time came, but you knew that it would only result in you having to pay them back for everything they had ever given money towards for you. Even though you’d gotten multiple scholarships for college, your parents insisted you go to a prestigious university that rarely gave any money to their students because they knew their parents would have wide-open wallets. There was no way you’d ever be able to pay that back in your lifetime, especially with your current job. 

So you were stuck. But you knew you weren’t really all that unhappy. While the circumstances weren’t what you preferred, you couldn’t deny the small excitement that you felt at the prospect of being able to have a relationship with Yoongi. The caveat to that was also knowing that he was an entirely unwilling participant in this situation, which wasn’t really going to work to your advantage. You were set on remaining a realist, refusing to consider the idea that Yoongi might come to love you. It felt like you didn’t have much of any other choice. Everything about this entire situation made you feel like a passive observer, someone with no impact or voice, which wasn’t far from the truth. You imagined Yoongi was much the same.

Distantly, you wondered how many people Yoongi was allowed to invite to the wedding.

Speaking of! You had almost forgotten to call Hoseok, and it was getting late. You scrambled to reach for your phone, stretching your arm out to the nightstand where your phone sat, and grasping it. Dialing his number, you registered how low his contact was on your recent calls. You really needed to call him more often. Hitting his contact, you waited for the ringing to start. He answered rather quickly, which surprised you, as he was usually an early sleeper.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has. I missed you. Hobi,” you said, not realizing how much you meant it until the words left your mouth. It really had been too long since you’d called.

“What’s up? You don’t sound too happy. Is everything okay,” he questioned, and your heart warmed at his concerned nature. He was always able to read you well, better than Joohee sometimes. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine I guess. I’m getting married, actually.”

The other end of the line was silent for a bit before you heard Hoseok let out a breath and speak, “Oh, wow. Okay. How are you feeling?”

You choked out a laugh, “You’re not even asking who I’m marrying?”

“Well, I know that it’s not someone you chose. So I want to know how you’re doing. When did you find out?”

Your laughter died at his serious nature, your attempt at lightening the mood unsuccessful, “About two months ago. The wedding’s in around six. Want an invite? I get a whole three guests of my own choosing.”

He chuckled softly at that, “Of course I do, you know I’ll be there. But seriously, how are you feeling about this?”

You almost sighed at his unwillingness to let you escape his question, “I don’t know, honestly. I really don’t. I think I’m weirdly at peace with it? I’ve been expecting it for so long and now it’s finally happening. Plus, it being Min Yoongi isn’t exactly the worst thing ever.”

You could hear his surprise over the phone, “Min Yoongi? Like your crush of almost two decades, Min Yoongi?”

You groaned, responding, “Jeez, way to remind me how old I am. Yes, that Min Yoongi. He’s definitely not as okay with it as I am though.”

“What do you mean?”

You recounted the past meeting with his family to Hoseok while he patiently listened and interrupted occasionally to provide his own thoughts. When you finished, you could practically see him falling back against his desk chair, exhaling a burst of air. 

“Well, that’s a lot.”

You let out a short laugh, “Yeah, that’s been my life for the past couple of months.”

“I think Joohee gave you some good advice. I’d probably say something similar to you. Try to make the most of the situation but don’t expect a lot from him. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, “Yeah, you’re probably right. But, enough about me, how are you doing? How’s work?”

Hosek launched into recapping how busy the dance school he taught at had been lately and the gossip surrounding his coworkers. You felt yourself relax more into the conversation and slowly forget your troubling feelings surrounding Yoongi. 

You would deal with those come Friday. 

It was Friday. You made sure to leave work a bit early, giving you enough time to run back to your apartment to change and look presentable. You had chosen your outfit with Joohee’s help the night prior. You were meeting at a relatively fancy restaurant but it was more of a bar, so you didn’t want to be too formal. You had opted for a green dress with a small flower print since you were coming off the winter months into spring. Your dress was an A-line cocktail dress with a square neckline and puffed sleeves that cinched at your wrist. You’d had it for a while and knew how it looked on you, and you knew you would feel comfortable in it tonight. The last thing you needed weighing on your mind was getting in your head about how you looked, which you usually felt nauseous from. 

With it approaching six, you quickly finished up some minimal makeup, topped it off with a lip tint, and tried your best to make your hair look presentable after what was a long day of work. A glance at your watch told you that you didn’t have much time left, so you rushed to your car, almost forgetting your small purse, and started your drive over to the restaurant. You didn’t want to be late and make a bad impression on Yoongi, although you didn’t know if his impression of you could get any worse. 

After you arrived and were sat at your table, you checked your phone to see the time and were relieved to note that you were a couple of minutes early. You felt yourself relax into the booth and started taking slow, calming breaths to slow down your racing heartbeat. The adrenaline of trying to get to the restaurant on time was starting to fade and you took another glance at your watch. 

6:06

Well, that’s fine. He’s probably just a little late, you tried to reassure yourself, but you had a sinking feeling. As the minutes marched on, the sinking feeling grew deeper, and you could feel yourself growing slightly annoyed. 

6:29

Well, whatever.

You took out your phone from your purse and decided to message him. It should be reasonable, right? You had scheduled this beforehand, after all. Well, not you, your mother, but still, the principle held. 

You:

Hi Yoongi-ssi, this is Seo Y/N. I’m waiting at the restaurant at the moment 

and I was wondering if you were alright, since you weren’t here yet? Please let me know if you’d like to reschedule instead.

You winced at how the text message sounded more like an email between colleagues, but you weren’t sure how casual you were supposed to be with him. Before you could mull over the tone of your message more, you hit the send button and bit your lip as you waited for a response. Your fingers began to pick at your dress in a nervous habit and you kept your eyes trained on the restaurant entrance in case you spotted him. 

Finally, at 6:42, you saw the head of black hair that had haunted your dreams as of late. He walked in calmly, looking slightly disheveled, but his lax pace didn’t betray anything about his tardy entrance. He looked infuriatingly attractive in a well-fitted suit with the tie loosened and the top couple of buttons undone. His eyes met yours as the hostess led him to your table and you smiled politely at him, receiving only a cursory nod in return. The waitress quickly approached as he sat down across from you and took his drink order, two fingers of whisky, while you asked for more water. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to drink, more that you needed to keep your wits about you for this dinner and alcohol would only make you feel nauseous in your already anxious state.

With the waitress gone, he turned to you and you felt yourself flush automatically, something you internally cursed. You wished he didn’t have such an effect on you. He declined to say anything, so you took a moment to take in his appearance now that he was much closer to you. 

You could see that his collar was more rumpled than you initially thought and his hair a bit more mussed. You saw a small mark just barely visible from beneath his white button-up, above his tie. Now that he was much closer, you could smell a faint scent of a sweet perfume that you knew wasn’t yours since you had only worn a very light citrus one. 

Oh. He was with someone else. Why does that bother me so much?

Finally, he spoke, his deep voice lulling you out of your trance of staring at the mark on his chest, “Sorry I’m late. I saw your text, but I was driving. To be completely honest, I forgot about this.”

For a moment, his apology surprised you. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to apologize. Maybe you’d built him up to be this cartoon villain in your head after your last interaction, but you’d forgotten that he was human just like you. 

“That’s alright, it’s no problem,” you responded kindly, noting the way his eyebrow slightly furrowed at your response, “How was your day?”

He raised an eyebrow at you in a questioning manner, “Are you really going to do small talk with me?”

You let out an embarrassed laugh at your failure to engage him and tried for a new tactic instead, “Okay, what would you like to talk about then?”

“I want to set some ground rules.”

Your surprise must’ve shown on your face because you saw the way his expression almost changed to amusement. You quickly shook off the abruptness of the statement and nodded your head, “Okay, like what?”

“First, you’ll be moving into my apartment. I’m sure your mother already told you,” you nodded, “Do not enter my bedroom or office without knocking. I’ll extend the same courtesy to you. Second, we keep our lives separate. Unless we need to appear at an event together, we shouldn’t be mingling our private lives, including friends, work, things like that. Thirdly, this marriage is going to be on paper only. Don’t expect me to treat you like my girlfriend, or my wife, because we both know that’s not what this is.”

You felt your teeth take in your bottom lip as you considered his words, “Okay, that’s fine, I guess.” You couldn’t really stop him from wanting to do that, but it still hurt some. Any hopes you had of getting a normal romantic relationship after this were quickly dashed by his next rule.

“Lastly, I want this to be open. Our parents aren’t pressuring us for kids, so we can both find relief elsewhere. We both know this is only for increased stocks and influence in our respective companies. So, I do whatever I want and you do whatever you want in that regard, and we don’t interfere in each other’s love lives.”

You felt your face fall a bit, but you tried to control your expression. You had prepared for this, Joohee had prepared you for this. So why were you still so upset? He’s giving you the go-ahead to find whoever you want, so it’s not technically cheating. So why does it still feel so wrong?

“Okay,” you said uneasily, “That’s all okay.” It felt like you were saying it more for yourself than for him. 

His eyebrow quirked once more. They were very expressive, you noticed. 

“That’s it? You don’t have any rules of your own you want to add in?”

Your hands clenched onto the edge of the booth seat, needing something to ground you. Rules of your own? Your head was swimming with everything that had just happened, you could barely think of anything else, “No, none I want to add.”

Yoongi leaned back and clasped his hands, “Alright then. Shall we eat? My dad’s technically paying so eat all you want.”

You shakily took hold of the menu you’d already looked over a hundred times while waiting for him, not wanting to appear rude by being on your phone. You had already chosen what dish you wanted when Yujin had sent you the restaurant name, a habit of yours being to look up the menu beforehand to choose. The waitress approached and took your orders, taking the menu from your hands, leaving you with nothing to grasp your quivering fingers onto. 

You looked over at Yoongi, seeing him on his phone, scrolling. You felt yourself blanch at the blatant disregard and couldn’t find it in yourself to try and start a conversation. 

The minutes passed by slowly, and you were barely relieved when the food came, providing momentary respite by giving you something to do. You felt like you’d never been in a more awkward situation. The waitress quickly refilled both your drinks, and you noted that Yoongi had ordered water this time. It must be because he’s driving. 

Soon, the both of you finished your food, in utter silence. The waitress, who was quite on top of her game, swiftly provided the bill and told you to take your time. You had a feeling she felt the awkward tension as much as you did.

Once the bill was paid, you and Yoongi walked out towards the parking lot where he started shifting to move in the direction of his car before you blurted out, “Wait!”

He turned, facing you with a bored expression, waiting for you to finish speaking.

“I do have a rule actually.”

Seeming slightly intrigued now, he gestured for you to continue.

“I want us to try and be friends. Please.”

He seemed slightly surprised, judging by the way his eyebrows lifted slightly and his mouth parted. Collecting himself, he looked directly into your eyes, his dark orbs boring into your own, “No. I want us to keep our lives completely separate. We’re not friends.”

With that, he turned around and walked to his car, not sparing you another glance. 

“Wow, what an asshole.”

You hummed lazily in agreement, feeling your head lull. You were already a bottle deep in more cheap Moscato with Joohee, as well as a couple of shots of strawberry soju. 

“I know right! I agreed to whatever he said, why couldn’t he agree with the one thing I asked for?”

Joohee winced and prepared herself for your buzzed anger that was sure to flare up at her next statement, “Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. It did conflict with his other rule. Not that I think he’s justified either. There shouldn’t be a problem in being friends.”

Your head snapped towards her, seeing it as a defensive move for Yoongi in your half-drunken state, but before you could find the energy to get upset, you felt yourself melt further into the couch, “Yeah, you’re right, I guess. Whatever, I don’t need him. I’ll just fuck anyone who looks my way, instead.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” you cried, collapsing onto the pillow beside you, squeezing it tight, “Why am I so pathetic?”

“You’re not,” Joohee cooed, “You’re just in a shitty situation. So is he, but at least you’re not being a dick about it.”

You nodded glumly, still not feeling better about the situation. As you cradled the now-empty wine bottle to your chest, you remembered Hoseok.

“Oh yeah, I invited Hobi for the wedding. My coworker, Song Ha too. Can you believe I couldn’t think of a third person?”

Joohee laughed before throwing herself onto the couch with you, “Hey, you don’t need other friends, you have me. Besides, we’ll all be together again, then! It feels like forever since we’ve seen him.”

“Yeah, I told him and he said the same stuff as you. To try and make the best of it, or whatever,” you could feel yourself becoming less and less sober, “Can I crash here tonight?”

“Of course, do you want me to wash your dress for you?”

“No, I’ll just do it at my place. Thank God I have you.”

Joohee only laughed loudly in response, getting up to grab another bottle of soju from the fridge. The two of you lounged around before moving to watch TV in Joohee’s bed where she promptly fell asleep. Soothed by her snoring, you relaxed into her comfortable mattress and traced the light extrusions on her ceiling. Your thoughts soon drifted to Yoongi, as they seemed to do often these days. 

Was he really fair in rejecting your friendship? Joohee had made a good point earlier in that it certainly conflicted with his rule of ignoring each other outside of obligated functions. But…you didn’t want that. So why did you agree? In the moment, it hadn’t really felt like you’d had another choice. You seemed to be feeling like that a lot lately. 

Yoongi seemed serious about this marriage being for business only and you knew that you didn’t want that, but you couldn’t exactly tell him as such. You couldn’t be more sure that he would only be disgusted if he heard you say that and you didn’t think you’d be able to survive seeing that kind of emotion on his face when it’s directed towards you. 

Not that you’d be able to survive this marriage either. 

Your fingers toyed with the frayed hem of the sleep shorts you’d borrowed from Joohee, a frequent occurrence whenever you stayed over, and you saw her shift in her sleep. She really had been so supportive throughout this whole thing. 

Maybe you should go to her brother for help? No, Yoongi would probably hate that. 

You resisted the urge to kick your feet in frustration out of fear of waking up Joohee. This was so difficult, it was next to impossible to figure out what your next move should be. 

You had a nagging feeling that your mother wouldn’t force you to meet up with Yoongi anymore before the wedding, but why did that not feel like a clear-cut win? Did you want to meet with Yoongi again?

Rubbing at your eyes frantically, you pushed aside the flurry of questions stirring inside you. You didn’t have time to deal with this. There was a large project at work that was in its final stages that you needed your full attention on and then the final beta tests before the official launch, just weeks before your wedding. You couldn’t afford to spend another moment thinking about Yoongi. 

As you got more comfortable in Joohee’s bed, you turned your head to face the clock on her bedside table, reading 3:09 AM. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you forced your eyes closed to try and get some rest. 

You had an inkling that Yoongi would be occupying your thoughts whether you wanted it or not. 

“We’ll be meeting for the rehearsal dinner in one week, Yujin will send you the information and instructions. Don’t be late.”

Your mother’s voice cut off after that, not bothering to say goodbye before ending the call. You could feel your headache coming back and you fumbled for your water bottle before getting up to grab a red ginseng packet from the breakroom. Things had been a lot lately. 

The final preparations for the wedding were underway and your mother was leaving nothing to chance. Your dress had been fitted to perfection with your mother sending you a strict diet and workout plan to make sure you stayed the exact same size until the wedding. That email had been swiftly archived. 

You weren’t even sure of who was in your bridal party other than Joohee being your maid of honor. Not that it mattered. This wedding wasn’t for you anyway. 

As you slowly sucked out the paste from the ginseng packet, leaning against the break room counter, you wondered if Yoongi had had to go through similar procedures, though likely less extensive. You hadn’t heard from him since that dinner where he’d firmly placed a boundary between you, but he’d rarely left your mind since. You’d hoped that the reality check with Yoongi might help clear you of your feelings for him, but, instead, they only deepened your desire to get to know him better, to break past that boundary. But you knew that those ideas were merely fairy tales and this marriage was not going to be one by any means. 

Distantly, you wondered how the ceremony would go. The two of you hadn’t prepared any vows, nor were you expected to. This wedding was not a show of love and everyone knew that. Your parents weren’t concerned with making it appear as though you and Yoongi were a loving couple, no, this wedding was more of an excuse to show off their wealth and influence. Your nuptials were merely a byproduct. Still, would you have to kiss Yoongi?

You quickly shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the mental image, feeling your cheeks flush hot. Yet, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You imagined his lips would be soft and gentle, that he would lead you through the kiss and deepen it for more. His hands would come to rest at your waist before encircling it, pulling you closer, flush, to his body. 

No! You can’t imagine that, you’re not allowed!

Internally, you scoffed. What kind of girl wasn’t allowed to imagine kissing her fiance? You knew the truth, however, that it wasn’t your place to imagine yourself in that position. That was reserved for the person he loved, who was, decidedly, not you. 

Tossing the packet, you made your way back to your way back to your desk. Settling into the pillowed surface of your chair, you browsed through your emails before noticing one from the marketing team.

From: limheesungmarketing1@okgaming.com

RE: MIRA’S AWAKENING Influencer Advertising

Hello Team Leader Seo,

We have decided that we would like to reach out to online influencers and streamers to assist in promoting Project Mira’s Awakening. A list of possible candidates is attached, along with their profiles and viewer analytics. We would like your input on any public figures you believe may be good candidates for this endeavor. Please reach out if you and your team come up with any candidates that are not already included in the attached file.

Additionally, we would like to create merchandise to provide for these public figures and we need to confirm with you and Graphics Team 2 on graphics we can include on merchandise items. You will find a list of items we are looking to make, along with graphics suggestions, attached as well. Please coordinate with GT 2 to send over finalized ideas and start creating the images.

Thank you,

Team Leader Lim

You considered the contents, feeling the eraser of your pencil tap against your lip, who could you suggest? You had your favorite streamers, but none aligned that well with the nature of the game you were producing, which meant the viewer base wouldn’t have enough crossover with your target audience. Running through a list of the streamers you watched regularly in your head, you stopped at one in particular. 

Goldenboy97. 

Jeon Jeongguk was quite popular and played enough combat-based games to have sufficient audience crossover, while still being intriguing for the puzzle aspect of the game. Not that you were biased, but he was your favorite creator at the moment. You jotted down his handle and a note to ask the rest of your team about their thoughts. 

Leaning back in your chair, you stared blankly at the screen as the emails continued flooding in. Slowly, but surely, your thoughts drifted back to the phone call with your mother. The wedding was next week, with the rehearsal dinner only being seven days away. 

You felt a strange combination of dread and giddiness, a swirl of emotional turmoil you weren’t ready to unpack. Hoseok was coming back tonight and you were picking him up from the train station. You’d probably have time to process your emotions then. Hoseok was staying at your apartment in the guest bedroom for a couple of weeks so he could be there through the whole wedding process. He had also mentioned looking for an apartment to move into in Seoul, which made you excited. You really wanted to have the college dream team together again.

The thoughts of the actual wedding were stoking your nerves, you still hadn’t talked to Yoongi since the last time you’d met. You weren’t sure of the protocol or if you should try to talk to him beforehand, especially about the ceremony. Too cowardly to act on your anxiety, you shut off your opened messaging app on your phone. You weren’t keen on finding out how Yoongi would respond to an unprompted message. 

The sound of your team packing up alerted you to the time, being slightly past five. You joined them in getting ready to leave before heading to the elevator. The rest of the group trekked slightly ahead while Song Ha walked slightly slower to stay back with you. 

“So, the wedding is next week. Are you excited?”

You chuckled nervously, “Yeah, you could call it that.”

“Ah, are you nervous? Makes sense. Just think, though, soon, you’ll be married to the love of your life! How exciting!”

Your insides felt queasy. You hadn’t told Song Ha about the nature of your relationship with your betrothed because you weren’t exactly sure how to explain it to someone who wasn’t familiar, nor did you want to deal with the embarrassment, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Where are you going for your honeymoon?”

You bit your lip, “Nowhere, actually. We couldn’t get time off of work at the same time.” The honeymoon had long been decided as an unnecessary expense, and neither you nor Yoongi complained. Being stuck with him for weeks after the wedding in another country sounded like a nightmarish situation. You wouldn’t have minded a vacation though.

“Gosh, that sucks. Hopefully, you’ll be able to do something over the summer, maybe,” Song Ha pouted, swinging her work bag in line with her step. You smiled at her naivete.

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“Hobi!”

You ran towards the taller man, throwing your arms around his upper body, “I missed you! It feels so nice to have you back in Seoul.”

Feeling his chest rumble with a laugh, you squeezed him harder before releasing him. 

“Feels good to be back too,” he responded, a bright, heart-shaped smile adorning his face, “Let me get my bags to your car.”

“Oh, right, let me help,” you nodded, reaching for the bigger suitcase to roll towards your car. Hoseok easily picked up the duffel bag lying at his feet and followed behind you. You had opted for driving to the station since his train had come too late for the buses to still be running, and you didn’t want to have to deal with paying for or lugging his baggage into a cab. 

After loading the luggage into your trunk, you both settled into the front seats of your well-worn car. You heard Hoseok chuckle while clicking in his seatbelt, “This certainly feels different from the drunk bus and taxi rides back to the campus dorms. Even if it’s about the same level as luxury.”

You rolled your eyes, “Hey, my car is reliable. The previous owner only had it for a couple of years before selling it off and she’s been perfectly good since then. Though, my mom would probably agree with you on the luxury bit.”

“Yeah, well, who wants to listen to her opinion anyway. Before I forget, thanks again for letting me stay at your place while I’m here, I know it’ll probably be annoying with the wedding prep going on.”

“It’s no problem, seriously. Besides, a lot of my stuff’s been moved over to Yoongi’s for when I move after the wedding. I’m just keeping my apartment there in case I need it since I won’t be paying rent at Yoongi’s.” Keeping the lease on your apartment had been a conscious decision because you had figured you’d want a safe space away from the marriage drama and it wouldn’t be an extra hit to your income. What your mother and Yoongi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. 

“Has he really paid off his entire apartment? You’re marrying a proper chaebol,” Hoseok joked. 

You laughed lightly, a tinge of awkwardness at the idea that you really were, and you had no idea how he’d act in his own house. Tapping your fingers along the steering wheel, you tried to subtly change the topic, “Well, speaking of apartments, do you know where you’re going to be looking?”

Hoseok launched into a detailed plan he had for looking at rental properties in Seoul for both his apartment and the studio he wanted to open. You excitedly listened along, thrilled that he was planning on settling near you, as you drove to your own apartment. 

After you’d parked, Hoseok insisted on taking the large suitcase, claiming that only he was strong enough to lug it up the stairs. You only laughed a little bit at his sour expression when you showed him the perfectly working elevator. 

Punching in the code to your apartment, you swung open the door, making sure not to step food inside. A loud pop rang out and confetti sprayed out from the doorway.

“Surprise!”

Hoseok stumbled back, clutching at his chest and mouth agape at Joohee’s excited smile from inside the apartment, “Shit, Joohee, you scared me!”

You laughed loudly before grabbing his suitcase and rolling it inside, setting the duffel bag on top. Joohee began cleaning up the mess of confetti, Hoseok started to unpack what he’d need for the night, and you began unboxing the pizza that had arrived while Joohee was setting up. 

As the three of you settled into your living room, Hoseok already teasing Joohee, you felt like a void in your heart had been filled. The last few months had been so stressful and it hadn’t felt like you’d gotten a break emotionally in so long. The sounds of your friends chattering and laughing made you feel at ease. So, naturally, Hoseok had to ruin that.

“So, Y/N, how are you feeling about the rehearsal next week? Or the wedding, for that matter.”

You shifted in your position on the loveseat, feeling yourself frown, “Um, I don’t know. I don’t know what to expect. I can’t believe I’ll be married in just over a week.” Letting out a nervous laugh, you continued, “I haven’t talked to Yoongi in like six months. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You could feel yourself spiraling, but you had been holding in so many emotions that it felt like you couldn’t stop yourself from talking, “Honestly, I’m really scared. I don’t want this to be my life forever. I’m not ready, I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Joohee got up from her spot on the couch to hug you, Hoseok joining soon after. Something about their touch comforting you pushed you over the edge, the dam broke, and tears began streaming down your cheeks. You sniffled pathetically, hating the level of vulnerability you were currently displaying. You hadn’t cried throughout this whole experience, but in the comforting presence of your closest friends, you couldn’t help it. 

“I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to marry him if it’s going to be like this. Why does my life have to be this way? Why can’t I be normal?”

Joohee and Hoseok only squeezed you in response, not having an answer to your questions. Your tears continued on until you couldn’t cry anymore and Joohee finally released you. She stood and smiled kindly at you, “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Water, please,” you said raspily, throat dry from all the crying. Joohee nodded before heading to the kitchen, leaving you with Hoseok who had shoved himself into the loveseat to further comfort you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, slightly muffled by burying your face in Hoseok’s soft, cotton shirt. 

“You know you can always talk to us. I wish I could change this for you, that you didn’t have to do this,” he said softly, stroking your hair. 

“It is what it is,” you said, feeling much more mellow now that you’d cried out all your overwhelming emotions. 

“Still,” Hoseok insisted, “He has no reason to be such a jerk.” You shrugged, you felt the same but there wasn’t much you could do to change that. 

Joohee returned with a cup of water which you gratefully took and sipped. Suddenly feeling quite exhausted, and a headache coming on, you tapped Hoseok to get off of you, to which he complied and clambered off the loveseat.

“Sorry guys, I’m just so exhausted now. I really appreciate you being here, but I think I’m going to head to bed,” you stated, hugging both of them, before starting to gather the trash to clean up. 

Joohee laid a hand on your shoulder to stop you, “Go, get some rest. We’ll clean up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Hoseok exclaimed, and pushed you towards your bedroom, “Go to bed!”

Laughing, you acquiesced and headed into your bedroom to get ready to sleep. As you went through your nightly routine, you felt yourself feeling a bit calmer about the upcoming week. You had your two closest friends by your side. 

You were ready to handle anything that Yoongi threw at you.

Probably.

Yoongi lightly swirled the glass of whiskey between his fingers as he sat at his desk in his brown leather chair. By this time next week, he would be getting married. 

His eyes drifted towards the manila folder lying at the edge of his desk, a small water stain on the corner. Inside were the files on his soon-to-be wife, Seo Y/N. He took a sip of his whiskey, the smoky flavour traveling down his throat, as he considered his fiancee. 

He didn’t know what to make of her. She just seemed so meek and obedient, which wasn’t at all appealing. He didn’t remember much of her from before the arrangement, aside from vague interactions between them and the Kim siblings. She had seemed quite timid then too. 

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, setting his glass on his desk. He didn’t want to do this marriage. It was a chore, really. 

Yoongi didn’t necessarily have anyone he was looking to marry, but having to pretend to be exclusive with some girl he didn’t care about wasn’t conducive to the bachelor lifestyle he’d cultivated. He’d set his ground rules, and she’d agreed, pretty easily, another thing that irked Yoongi. 

Couldn’t she stand up for herself? Or say anything at all that was her own opinion?

Yoongi drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, he supposed she had said something that night. She’d wanted to be friends. He hadn’t been expecting that.

He figured it might be some condition about how she didn’t want to work or for him to stop seeing other people, but, instead, she’d simply asked for his friendship. And he’d refused. 

Of course he did, it went against his other rule. He wanted to keep his life separate from this artificial marriage and that included remaining nothing but acquaintances. He’d have to be steadfast, he decided. That night, when he’d seen your imploring expression with hope shining in your eyes, he’d almost agreed. He wasn’t sure why that was, or if he even wanted to know, but he couldn’t let it happen again. 

Despite your docile and unassuming nature, you were dangerous. And you didn’t seem to know it, which made you all the more so.

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[tinietaehyun]

Heartfelt Desire

[KingofHearts!Yeonjun x Lost!Reader] [Wondrous Tales] [One-shot series]

Pairing: KingofHearts!Yeonjun x Lost!Reader

Genre(s): Fantasy, dark fantasy, supernatural, romance, thriller, wonderland!au, whimsical.

Contains: Profanity, mentions of poison, capital punishment, implications of injury, death, mentions/implications of claustrophobic situations, suggestive themes, possessive behaviour.

Links: Wondrous Tales Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: It’s been awhile! Fucking finally, thanks for the patience everyone! <3

Summary: You peer around at this red, black and white lavish interior. A shudder vibrates through you - maybe you were better off with Soobin. You wonder what happened to him, everything happened so quickly. One moment he grasped your hand tightly and the next you saw him getting dragged away!

The guards shove you through a set of grand heart engraved doors and you stumble to your knees. Peering up, you see the man himself, one leg atop the other, a bored expression on his face, his eyes glimmering in intrigue.

“Ah, my darling guest, have you already fallen for me? Surely, you must have plans to keep me more entertained than that.” He smirks almost too sweetly with a flick of his wrist, “After all, you’ll find out very quickly, what happens to those I get bored with.”

“Think this one’ll last?” One of the guards who were hauling you asks his fellow guard with a snarky grin. The other responds with a sneer aimed down at you, “Mm, don’t know. They never really do. She might last a few weeks longer though, impressive enough she managed to sway the Timekeeper.”

You grunt as they tug you along like some ragdoll, speaking about you demeaningly with such condescension. You absolutely despised this, your feet were beginning to ache from all this shoving and walking, it felt as though it had been ages. Peering up at the sky, the sun was in the same place just before sunset. It was upsetting, you couldn’t even tell if time had passed or not because, well, time was dead.

A shiver passes through you as you finally spot the palace from which you’d seen as minuscule now loom over all of you. The diamond checker print path, comically large golden gates with red heart details and perilously sharp spikes.

Not to mention the palace itself, a colour palette of red, gold and white. Large spires and absurdly intricate architectural details gracing its features. Towers and domes, glass and walls, it truly was an architectural marvel that stood proud amongst the whimsical surroundings.

Certainly, it was a sight to behold. However, instead of wonder and amazement, it filled you with utter dread and anxiety instead. For you would have to meet the Red King of Hearts, the ruler of Wonderland. Someone, who Soobin had made very clear, was to be feared, cruel and selfish.

Your heart pangs with pain and misery. You really hoped Soobin was okay. Perhaps, he’d find a way out of being executed? How could Wonderland possibly lose its one and only Timekeeper? Your heart couldn’t take the thought of him bearing such capital punishment. They couldn’t possibly execute him immediately, right?

“Move the fuck along, stop dragging your feet,” the guard to your right snaps and you glare back at him as he shoves you forward. Pieces of shit, the whole lot of them! You mutter, “Fine, fine!”

Finally, you’re brought within the confines of the luxurious palace. The scale of everything intimidates you immensely. You peer around at this red, black and white lavish interior.

A shudder vibrates through you - maybe you were better off with Soobin. Everything happened so quickly. One moment he grasped your hand tightly and the next, you saw him getting dragged away!

“Keep it movin’ hun, not long to go before your demise,” the other guard snickers and your heart jumps to your throat, feeling a dreadful amount of nausea. What was the terribly rumoured Red King of Hearts like in person? Oh fuck, you probably weren’t going to even last a second!

All of you halt at a ginormous set of golden doors with intricate designs and ruby doorknobs. Oh, this must be it… The guards shove you through the set of grand heart engraved doors and you stumble to your knees due to the force.

Peering up timidly, you see the man himself, one leg atop the other, a bored expression on his face, his eyes glimmering in intrigue at your abrupt entry. The two doors shut behind you with a resounding clank, trapping you within the lion’s den.

The male’s lips quirk into a coy smile as he tilts head which was resting boredly on the palm of his hand. Uncrossing his legs, he stands with great poise and flourish, his blood velvet cape flapping behind him. Goodness…his intricate attire, he really did love the colour red…and well hearts. Rather fitting, actually.

This was the most consistent thing you’d seen in this place in all honesty; a jarring contrast to the clashing colours and whimsical nonsense outside. Oddly enough, this makes you feel even worse.

With caution, your gaze scans over his (criminally) handsome features, most remarkably his sharp eyes with a piercing gaze, his sleek jaw and lush rosy lips all complemented by raven black hair in which a few select strands hung over his forehead. The coy smile had your stomach doing flips and you releasing shaky breaths.

The clatter of his black boots echo on the checkered floor as he menacingly walks towards you as though he were a predator and you were nothing but prey. Your heart palpitates with great velocity and you can’t help but not move your gaze away from him. Your gazes lock, his gaze filled with a sly glimmer and yours filled with trepidation.

As he finally stands towering over your kneeling form, he smirks, a little too sweetly in fact as he says, “Ah, my darling guest, have you already fallen for me? Surely, you must have plans to keep me more entertained than that.” With a flick of his frilled wrist, he hums nonchalantly, “After all, you’ll find out very quickly, what happens to those I get bored with.”

You remain silent glaring up at the dramatic man. A boisterous laugh emits from his frame and he peers down at your pitiful form with a manic look in his eyes, “Oh? Cheshire Cat got your tongue?”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “Oh! You are just so adorable, look at your confused little expression, my darling. I could just devour you up,” he coos.

With a grimace, you murmur, “Where’s Soobin?” He crouches down abruptly startling you and he grins, “Soobin? I didn’t know you were so close to the White Rabbit?”

Your heart thuds against your ribcage as his piercing gaze impales you. “I really did wonder, you know, how you managed to sway that manic rabbit. The timekeeper is not easily swayed; he's always so, so, so, dedicated to being on time! To complete the tasks I set him. Yet,” he pauses with a laugh, “yet, you somehow captured his pathetic little heart and caused him to deviate off the set path and my important order of bringing any and all guests who wander into Wonderland to me!”

Another cruel cackle escapes him, “Oh? And now look! Now, he’s on death row because of who?” He questions you as if it is the funniest possible notion to ever exist. “Because of you, my darling!” You? Your eyes glaze over, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Ah, where are my manners making you about to cry on our first meeting? Do forgive me, my pretty little guest, it’s been so, so long since we’ve had a guest in Wonderland and well, I can’t contain my excitement around you. Oh, yes, yes! Introductions!”

“Darling, introduce yourself to your king.” Your king? How fucking vain! This man was infuriating! Your shakily glare in the tiniest hint of defiance. The King tilts his head observing your reaction and his gaze darkens as does his tone when his slender fingers grab your jaw tugging your face towards his, as he threatens lowly, “Don’t make me repeat myself, understood? I don’t like repeating myself. I like obedient little guests, who play their role as they should,” his fingers press into your skin, “So?”

You wince as you pry his hand off your jaw with a quiver. His personality was like night and day. This side of him was a stark contrast from mere moments ago, it scared you much more than the man with dramatic flair. Timidly, you mumble, “My name is Y/n.”

He hums in pleasant delight, “See? Was that so hard, darling? Now, I’m sure you know who I am, everyone does, but since you’re my guest, for courtesy and my own selfish desire, allow me to introduce myself,” he stands and with a flourish of his cape, he bellows, head held high with pride, “I am, the Red King of Hearts, the Ruler of Wonderland, the Apex of all here, or just for you my darling,” he abruptly crouches back down with a smirk, “Yeonjun.”

You mumble, “…Yeonjun.” How peculiar. Yeonjun grins, “How your sweet lips sound when you say my name, I do wonder what other sweet sounds I can get you to make.” A burst of warmth floods your cheeks at his crude insinuation.

Yeonjun’s gaze trails down your facial features, down your neck and your body, “Mm, I see the attire of your world continues to amuse me, ever rapidly changing I see. Though I won’t say it’s not displeasing, quite the opposite in fact.” His fingers once again cup your jaw, gentler this time, “You’re a pretty little darling aren’t you? I believe we will get along splendidly.” He leans forward, lips inches from yours, eyes darkening in a sadistic gaze, “Even if we don’t, I can fix that.”

He rises outstretching his hand with a long, exaggerated drawl, “Mm, now up, up, I don’t need you kneeling like a dog waiting for their master’s command.” His switch in tone from threat to lighthearted almost gives your whiplash. Yeonjun’s peers down at you with a grin, “Although, the view of you kneeling down like this isn’t too bad either.” With great haste you take his hand and pull yourself up with a huff.

A loud chuckle reverberates from him, “Oh you do make me laugh, that’s at least a good start,” he tugs you along with him, “Have I mentioned I don’t like being bored? I do hope you plan to entertain me as long as you’re here,” he peers back over his shoulder at you with a twinkle in his crazed eyes, “After all, your life depends on it.” A ruthless little laugh escapes his lips making your shoulders sag. Oh dear, you never really called yourself an interesting person, let alone entertaining. You were doomed!

“First, I’m going to provide the finest feast my loveliest new guest has ever laid eyes on, after all I need you on a full stomach to keep your energy up, hm?” Yeonjun delightfully utters and you feel your stomach churn, not in hunger but in fear. Now that you think about it, you weren’t that hungry. How much time passed in the outside world then?

“Hurry your step, I have worked the chefs extra hard today to make sure you have a feast upon your arrival,” he takes your arm, hooking it under his as he speedily walks along. Your feet stumble trying to keep up with him; you sigh, this was awful.

Within a few minutes, you’re presented with the finest feast you have indeed ever laid eyes on. Illustrious varieties of foods of different kinds, sizes, some whacky and some you recognise - either way they all looked delectable, making your mouth salivate at the thought of being able to eat some of this.

“Now, now, sit darling, the food will get cold otherwise and we can’t have that now, can we?” He coos ushering you along to a tufted chair at the head of the table, which was elaborately decorated. “For today, you can sit on my seat, since it’s been so, so, long since I’ve had a guest. Can you tell I’m just brimming with utter excitement? I can barely contain myself.”

With a firm but gentle nudge on your shoulders he pushes you to sit down and the servants place a napkin on your lap and you’re immediately presented with a white, gold and red rimmed plate with gold cutlery to boot. Yeonjun sits down in the seat to your right with a smirk lining his lips and muses, “Oh, you do look lovely sitting there so obediently.”

Hesitantly, you peer at the food not knowing what to pick with so much choice. You see his hand fly out, placing a plate of what seems to be steak in front of your plate and his other hand taking another plate filled with some sliced chicken surrounded by various vegetables. “Take your pick darling,” he hums.

Your eyes flicker unsurely between the two. You briefly peer back at Yeonjun who seems to have his hands clasped together under his chin whilst his elbows rest on the table and your heart sinks. He was regarding you with such interest as if every single one of your mannerisms was pure entertainment. Yeonjun’s gaze becomes coy and his lips quirk into a lopsided smirk, “Oh? Darling looking at me like that… I’m not on the menu tonight.”

Huffing, you respond, “That’s not- you-“ A chuckle escapes his lips, “Hm? Why? Am I not to your tastes? I’ve made a lot of people happy you know,” his voice takes a sultry edge as his head tilts slightly.

Your cheeks become warm and you turn your gaze back to the food. You point to one of them and he ever so kindly presents it on your plate with a sly smile, unnerving you incredibly.

“Eat up, darling. I’m sure you’ll love it.” With a clink of your knife and fork against the plate, you timidly begin eating and you notice he’s not touched a single morsel of food.

“Why aren’t you eating?” You question suspiciously. He pouts, “Oh? You care whether I eat? I can’t believe you’re getting so attached to me already. I’m so touched, such a kind heart you have.” Refraining from the urge to roll your eyes, you mutter, “It’s not that- just- it’s your feast..”

Swallowing another bite, you can’t help but relish in the divine taste. What the hell did they put in here to make something so regular taste so good? Then again, with a ruler like him, he probably expected nothing less than perfection or off with their heads!

He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and his gaze is alluring as he muses, his tone of voice changing drastically, “Does it taste good?”

You stiffen, “…Why?” He smiles just a tad too sweetly, “Don’t make me repeat myself, darling.” Looking down at the food on your plate, your breath becomes uneven. He muses with a twisted smile, “It doesn’t taste off, does it? I’d hate to punish my dear chefs, you know?”

Stammering, you drop your cutlery overwhelmed with a sense of anxiety, “N-No?” What was that supposed to mean? Taste off? Yeonjun smirks, “Oh it doesn’t? Are you just resistant to poison? That would make you even more of a remarkable guest than you already are.”

Poison? What the fuck? Nausea hits you instantly as you shove away the plate with noisy clatter and stand abruptly, cutlery scattered on the floor and you hyperventilate. What the fuck did you just eat?

Yeonjun lets out a boisterous guffaw, running his hand through his hair, giving it a tousle and adjusting his crown, “Oh did you not find my joke funny?” Joke? Was he joking?

You snap shakily, “What? Is it poisoned? Or not?” Yeonjun coos, “Darling, why would I kill off my newest toy, sorry, guest, so quickly? Where’s the fun in that? I just wanted to see your endearing reaction.”

Infuriated, you yell, “You-You sadist! I…I thought I consumed…” He gives you a smile, an uncomfortably serene one contrasting your outburst, “Oh hush now. This dish doesn’t have poison in it.”

Your eyes narrow, “What? This…dish?” He muses, “Half of these dishes do, and half of these don’t. Isn’t that fun?” He sighs dramatically leaning back in his chair, “Most guests don’t even make it past the first round, it’s so unfair, how stupid they are. You’re lucky, you chose the dish you did over the other.”

Your heart races; you were still alive this second, out of sheer luck. How fucking stupid could you be? No way in hell were you going to eat anything from this table!

“I’m not hungry- I’m not eating anything off this table!” You snap, hands trembling. Yeonjun’s eyes pierce into yours, “Now, now no need to throw a tantrum, darling. I suggest you sit yourself back down and play the game I’ve set up for you, less you face any unfavorable consequences.”

The threat lacing his voice is clear and you feel compelled to sit back down. He awaits, his gaze menacing and lips held in a twisted yet refined smile. The red heart shape painted around his left eye taunting you.

He pours you some water into the cup beside your plate and you peer at it with caution. Yeonjun snickers, “Allow me to be clear, the only thing that isn’t poisoned is the water. Everything else is merely a gamble. I want you to see this game through, and finish all the courses. I’ve skipped the starter just because I actually want you to have a chance to win. I can’t have my guest dying after waiting for so long!”

You eye the water with a grimace; you couldn’t take his words at face value anymore. Yeonjun muses with a shrug, as you don’t touch the cup of water, “Oh? Suit yourself then. I’m feeling rather parched.” He takes the cup downing it and your jaw clenches. It was indeed not poisoned.

You peer at the food across the table; this explains the sheer variety. Every single dish was a danger; you had no way of finding out which was poisoned. No wonder people didn’t make it past even a few days! With sadistic games like this? Who would? There had to be a few who managed to pass by sheer luck only to displease the king and be executed anyway.

Yeonjun places his hand atop yours, rubbing circles across the back of your hand with his thumb and you stiffen under his touch. “Hm…you look pale, are you that scared, darling? You’re almost making me feel bad for you, you know?”

“Is…Is there nothing else we can play?” You timidly question and it seems to surprise him. No one has dared to ask to play another game. All he’s heard are pitiful cries, pathetic begging and whimpering, some even boldly try to run away or some foolish guests even have tried to stab him. Yet you…you were different. Perhaps, the Timekeeper was indeed right to attempt to steal you away all to himself.

A manically delighted expression crosses his face making you feel even more unsettled. “Oh you continue to surprise me, darling. Another game? Oh I’d be happy to indulge your lovely request.” He relishes the spark of hope glimmering in your beautiful eyes, the slight flutter of your lashes.

His lips form a dark smile, how he’d love to douse that flame of hope. Very, very few had ever made it out past the Red King of Hearts’s palace. Mostly because they died! Yeonjun regards your face, your frame and he can’t help but feel strongly for you. Maybe because it’s been awhile, but he doesn’t want to let you go. Perhaps, he could keep you like a little bird in a golden cage that he could visit whenever he desired. Why must all the guests here die? If only they weren’t so incompetent.

Perhaps he could keep you until he grew utterly bored. You were oh so pretty after all, it would be such a waste. Yeonjun hums, “Darling, since I’m growing ever so fond of you, I’ll be incredibly generous just this once. I want to be entertained so, just chatting can only go so far. Why don’t you suggest a game to play?”

“…A game to play? Me?” You question shakily. He was giving you a choice. You peer around seeing the servants bewildered by his words and wide-eyed. He had abandoned this game of dangerous dining, just because you offered to play another game. Was he truly that fond of you? Gaging the servants’ reactions, you could tell this was something that had never happened before.

Perhaps, this was your chance at escape. You had to take advantage of this once in a blue moon chance! Think, think, think!

Yeonjun’s sly gaze runs over your features and he hums, “Oh I know it’s a big decision, so take your time. But that also doesn’t mean I’m the most patient man, darling.” So…did he want you to be quick or take your time?

As you grind the gears of your brain, Yeonjun observes your mannerisms, finding them rather endearing. He knew you wanted to escape. That dastardly rabbit must have spewed all sorts of nasty things to you about him! His lips quirk up into a smirk, it was very cute how hard your little brain must be whirring. There was no escaping him, no escaping the Red King of Hearts in Wonderland.

In this world, he ruled. No one goes unchecked, no one leaves and enters without him knowing. Every single thing, every single person, being, whatever it was that resided here belonged to him and him alone, without question. He leans forward resting his chin once more against his palm, especially you. His newest guest, he didn’t want you to die so quickly like the others.

Though with how you manage to seduce the White Rabbit, he wonders if you were just putting on a meek and timid facade. Whatever game you were playing, Yeonjun relished in it, so much so, he was giving you the oh so rare opportunity to decide. For once, the guest asked to play a different game, how bold indeed. If anyone else in the past had said such a thing, he’d have gauged their eyes out with the very cutlery on the table!

Such pretty lashes, glimmering eyes and kissable lips you had. All of you, just a sight for sore eyes. He hums in approval. Oh, he could just imagine you dolled up, caged in his chambers, like a pretty little bird, all for himself. He didn’t want to let you go, kill you like the others, well unless you were abhorrently boring of course, but who knows when the next guest would arrive in Wonderland!

“Your majesty,” a voice interrupts his reverie and he snaps, “What?” A colourfully absurd invitation is placed in front of him by one of the servants and Yeonjun groans exasperated. “Oh how many times more must I incinerate these disgusting little invitations he sends me?”

You eye the invite; ‘The March Hare and Hatter cordially invite his majesty for our terrific tea party!’ The Mad Hatter..the killer of time? March Hare? What in wonderland were these titles? A tea party?

‘Follow the pastel bunting or jump down the timekeeper’s burrows and see where they lead, maybe you’ll just bump into one of us and see!’

What the fuck type of invite was this? Burrows? There wasn’t even a time or place! Then again it was all because of a stupid ass invite that you were stuck here in the first place!

Burrows…Soobin. You frown. Huh, that means Soobin must have burrows everywhere across Wonderland. Your mind ticks faster as more connections form. So…he must have one to get to the palace since he does work directly under the Red King of Hearts, running Wonderland. So he must have dozens more within the palace and grounds to get to other places!

Before you and Soobin got caught by Yeonjun’s guards, you were about to go down one of them anyway! It’s bound to be a quick way to different places! You just had to find one of his burrows in the palace!

“Burn it,” Yeonjun snaps, repulsed by the invite. The servant bows retreating hastily and you meet his gaze. His angered expression immediately morphs into one of coddle and awe, “Well, my darling?”

Clearing your throat, you reply, “Hide and Seek.” He raises a brow before replying, “Hide and Seek, a rather childish game, no? Why? Are you that good at hide and seek?”

You murmur, “Well, no, but it’s entertaining, isn't that what you want? Plus…I don’t get to…die?” Your voice raises unsurely at the end.

The hall goes silent as he processes your words; his face is serious as he stands abruptly startling you. Did he see through your plan? You wanted to scour the palace, the courtyards and gardens for at least one of Soobin’s burrows. The most inconspicuous way was to indulge in a dangerous game with Yeonjun.

He hums, his fingers tapping the table, “Hm, and what do I get if I win? After finding you of course?”

You quip, “What if I want to seek first? Must I always be the one to hide?” His eyes widen slightly and the servants freeze at your words. A large cackle escapes his lips as his pupils dilate, excitation brimming within him, “Oh, oh I like you. I like you a lot. I guess that pretty mouth of yours can do more than just whimper.”

Yeonjun’s words make you flush as his intense gaze runs over you as you stand. Play along for now. That’s all you have to do.

He walks up to you with a wry smile as he cups your jaw, “You don’t think I know what you’re trying to do?” Your blood runs cold. Fuck. Yeonjun leans down, his breath against your ear, “You don’t think I know how much you want to leave my grasp?”

You glare up at him shakily. Your faces are inches apart and he muses quietly, “You’re lucky that I’m willing to even indulge in your silly games. Every single corner of this palace is lined with my guards. Don’t think I’m stupid, darling.” The way his demeanor switches like day and night has you reeling.

You murmur resolutely, “Neither am I.” He smirks, “I hope, indeed. So,” he steps back taking one of your hands in his rubbing his thumb on the back of it delicately, “Hide and Seek. I want to up the stakes. The game you want to play is a little boring. We’ll have two rounds where we swap roles as the seeker and hider.”

Reluctantly, you nod. Yeonjun resumes, “First round, you’ll be the seeker. You find me. Within the time limit of course. If you do, I’ll grant any wish you like, give you all the riches you desire,” he hums deviously, “Pleasures that you would have never experienced before, and so on and so forth.” Yeonjun’s lips form a dark smile, “If you don’t, well, that just means, I get a point.”

That’s it? Something was awfully wrong. “Next round, I’m the hider? You’re the seeker. Is it the same rules?” You question nervously. He nods, “Yes darling, if you manage to hide for long enough, then you get a point! If you don’t, well…” he releases a dark chuckle, “Well, we’ll get to that.”

You glare, “No, I want to know. What do I get if I win? Other than whatever riches and such. What if I want f-“

“If you’re thinking freedom, darling,” he begins with a dark glare as he leans down, “Forget it,” he seethes. His tone sends shivers down your spine and the deranged look in his eyes is enough to make your knees buckle.

“If…I win,” he laughs as if the thought is utterly delicious, “Then, you’re mine. You already are, but in a more true sense of the word. You’ll be mine, you’ll get the rare privilege of being kept alive. For my entertainment! See, I can’t bring myself to kill you, well, not so easily I mean. Think of yourself like a bird in a golden cage, sitting prettily waiting for me, no responsibilities, nothing, just existing for me alone. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

You peer at his unhinged demeanor and you almost feel sick. Was that his idea of fun? It almost seems like his other ‘guests’ had the easy way out through death! A shaky breath escapes you and it doesn’t go unnoticed and he smiles, “Oh? You don’t like that idea? I could just display your pretty little head on my mantle in my office instead, but I thought it’d be a shame.” You pale instantly.

You grunt, “I’d rather you not.” He hums, “Glad we agree, darling. Now close those pretty eyes of yours and start counting to a hundred. You have a generous twenty minutes to find me.” Hundred!? Yeonjun grins with a flirtatious wink as he brushes past you, “No skipping numbers,” he mutters menacingly, “I despise cheaters.”

Glaring, you begrudgingly turn around and cover your face with your hands and hear his echoing footsteps. Indeed this seemed childish. You’d let him hide wherever the fuck he wanted. You’d be under the pretense of trying to find him when in actuality you were looking for burrows.

“…98, 99, 100.” Your eyes open and you see the knights standing guard keeping a sharp eye on you. Well, presumably so, that you didn’t skip any numbers. How pathetic.

With exasperation, you begin walking around the winding and twisting hallways of the grand palace. Everything reeked of Yeonjun from the decor to the winding hallways and architecture, the colour palette and furniture. The mirror panels lining the walls, how vain was he? You see your reflection walking alongside you everywhere and it creeped you out. What a weird place.

You knew you had twenty minutes, so you had to cover as much ground of this hellhole as you could before the time was up. You were in no way trying to actually look for that maniac! As you walk around; the guards and various servants all eye you and you feel a constant sense of unease. Always being watched. Whether it be them or Yeonjun himself.

Ten minutes had passed according to the knight who informed you midway (with what godforsaken clock they had, you didn’t know). You had managed to find your way around, use pieces of furniture and decor to make sure you didn’t repeat your route in this massive place. There was still much to explore, you seemed to have covered the entire West Wing of the palace.

Not a single peep out of Yeonjun. He was not stupid that was for damn sure. You knew he was watching you. You knew he was making sure you wouldn’t try anything funny, such as escape. You were sure though, he didn’t know about your out of the box plan of using the White Rabbit’s burrows.

“Five minutes, Miss Y/n.” A knight suddenly barks and you clutch your chest startled by the sudden shout. Muttering, you speed your pace, “Fucking hell,” you didn’t know if Soobin had a direct way into the palace. Perhaps you had to think simpler. What if it was genuinely outside? The gardens.

Yes, if you skipped the East Wing and went straight for the gardens. But…you had no time. You still had the next round but, you would be the hider. Your mind whirrs trying to plan everything out; your arms crossed over your chest in deep thought.

“Oh, you’re terribly bad at this game, darling, now there’s only two minutes left,” a voice reaches your ear and you scream, stumbling back. Your eyes widen seeing Yeonjun with a dangerously sharp gaze peering down at your startled form.

“Come now, do I scare you that badly? I’m not scary.” Yeonjun smirks crouching down to your level, “What a pitiful attempt at both escape and seeking. I like your bravery, well, I should say more so stupidity. But it’s entertaining, very much so, so keep doing it,” he stands back up towering over your trembling form as he darkly hums, “I’ll have so much fun with you afterwards.”

“I was hiding in the gardens by the way, what a pity you didn’t set foot outside.” Fuck. Perhaps you should have started there. You didn’t want to be so fucking obvious though!

“At least you’re dedicated to the game, in one way, I suppose,” he dryly muses, “I was bored waiting for you darling so I came to you instead, but that does mean you unfortunately, or fortunately for me, lose.”

Rolling your eyes, you get up, “Yeah, yeah.” Yeonjun still towers over your frame despite standing and he places a hand atop your head, “How cute. You still have some attitude. A sore loser are we?” You gaze up at him and you stiffen at the manic gleam in his eyes and he releases a laugh, “I like that expression on your face.”

He leans down, “It suits you. Fear. Anxiety. Makes your face, oh so, adorable.” His voice is utterly condescending. It enrages you and causes you to shiver. The depth and tone of his voice, scratches your brain as he alluringly regards you.

Yeonjun’s fingers grasp your jaw tilting your head up more, “Keep entertaining me like this, pretty thing and you’ll have me obsessed with you. Not many have the gall that you do.” You pry his hand off making him smile amused.

“The next round.” You state with a shaken glare and racing heart. Yeonjun sighs dramatically, “Ah, yes, yes. Why the rush? Eager to leave? Not like you can, when my guards are everywhere.”

You mutter, “Isn’t that cheating? What if they just tell you where I’m hiding?” He arches a brow with a smirk, “Oh? You think I’d stoop so low.” Oh he totally would - anything to win. You know it.

With a challenging expression, you hum confidently, “Do this round without your guards. They cannot tell you where I am. Just you,” you step forward, inches away from each other, “and me.”

You can tell he’s taken slightly aback, by your sudden surge of confidence and your demand. You spot the workings of his mind as his eyes peer back into yours. You hum, “Unless…you can’t? Because you’re afraid I’d really escape? Then what threat are you? Catch me with your own two hands and…” you shakily grit and force out the words like they’re acid on your tongue, “…and I’m all yours.”

Your proposition, your intentional wording, the tilt of your head, proximity, the ever so subtle flutter of your lashes, you had to use his hubris, his own arrogance against him. “All mine? That’s rather hard to believe.”

You murmur, “Well, I’d rather be here than the Hatter or lost out there. You took the one guide I had.” This makes Yeonjun smirk and he hums, “Aren’t you a sneaky little thing?” He trails his hand up your arm resting his hand on your shoulder before pulling you against him and whispering, “I might have almost believed you, with that siren gaze and silky words of yours.”

Fuck him! “But, I’ll entertain you nonetheless. Either way, you’ll be mine whatever the outcome is,” he hums presumptuously, taking a step back and he outstretches his hand. “Without the guards it is. Allow me to inform the General. Oh, don’t try the gates, they’re locked. Don’t scale the garden fences, they have spikes, unless you like being impaled. Do you?”

Grimacing, you respond, “I don’t.” He muses, “Figured.” Yeonjun alerts his guards and the General and you feel your heart palpitate with unease in your chest. This was it. Make your way to the gardens. Scour the entire place for burrows. Prolong the game, without him finding you. Sounds easy enough, right? The gardens themselves must be huge.

“So darling,” Yeonjun begins with a wry grin, an excited twinkle in his eyes, “Let the game begin. I’ll count to a hundred, I promise I won’t skip any numbers.” Liar.

With all your might, you start sprinting. Where the fuck were the doors to the garden, you didn’t know. Okay, okay, just use the windows as a guide. Peering around you see a stretch of plants and trees, fencing and a path, this area seems to be facing the front of the palace, where you could spot the grand gates through which you were hauled through. Twisting around, you peer to your left, that had to go back to the West Wing which you had already explored. With the way the path from the gate twisted, it would be quicker to get to the garden through the West wing.

Luckily, you weren’t too terrible at directions only doubling back one or two times before using the windows and looking outside to roughly ascertain your position and remain on the outskirting hallways of the palace. Your eyes widen seeing the bustling servants and trays of buckets of fresh vegetables being carried; yes! The gardens must be nearby.

What if you asked the servants? “Excuse me?” You call out stopping one and the vibrant red and white coloured woman peers at you absurdly, “Yes?”

“Where are the gardens?” You ask with glimmering hope. She hums, “Ah, you must be the new guest. I’m sorry I cannot tell you.” You plead, “Please, please. It’s not to escape I swear, I just need to hide.”

“He’ll have my head,” she responds with a dull expression and you sigh in frustration. She peers over her shoulder down a particular hallway. You spot many other servants coming through a set of wooden doors. You smile at her; “Oh, oh now I know.” She may have unintentionally let you know. But oh well!

Making your way through the bustling servants, you shove past them through the wooden doors and get smacked by the familiar eery sunset of Wonderland. The gardens truly looked magnificent, trimmed bushes, neat soil patches, flowers of every size, shape and colour, both elegant and wacky. Your eyes widen seeing one egregiously large flower looming over the others.

The checker-print adorned gardeners peer at you with disgust but you ignore it as you swiftly make your way through the gardens following the paths and trying not to become distracted with the oddly shaped bushes- mostly hearts.

Yeonjun had probably finished counting ages ago. Yet here you were with no progress out in the open sticking out in your modern attire like a green thumb. Perhaps you had to check the outskirts, burrows to other places would be easier from there right? Well, whatever weird logic you came up with, you had no choice but to try it.

You stiffen as a voice bellows out, “Oh, my, my, I think I spot a precious little bird fluttering out in the open unsure where to hide.” Fuck, fuck, fuck! How did he know to come out to the gardens? Of course he did, he’s not fucking stupid! He probably asked around, he obviously broke his own rules? Piece of shit!

Enraged and terrified, you bolt off, hearing his deranged cackle echo throughout the garden. Oh, he was insane. He definitely enjoyed chasing you around as though you were prey and he a hunter, a little too much for your liking.

Yeonjun walks confidently in his step, how lovely you were. Making this so easy for him. So what if he cheated and asked where you went? His servants could never disobey his orders. A delightfully twisted laugh escapes his lips, or he’d have their heads on a platter.

He did say he didn’t like cheaters, but he never said he couldn’t be one himself. He only didn’t like them if it meant he couldn’t win. What king would he be, if he followed the rules like the vermin below? No, he was above the rules. And well, he wanted you. At any cost.

No matter where you were in Wonderland, he’d always get you. Every guest that lands in this decrepit place was his to do with as he pleased. His gaze follows your minute figure as you sprint off making him smile. Oh he could imagine it now, dressed in the finest gowns hands strung up with the softest silk ribbon, at his mercy.

With a giddy step, he begins walking faster. Hm, perhaps your suggestion of hide and seek was a good one after all. He always did have a little sadistic streak in him.

Panting for breath you peer around desperately. The gardens were kept in immaculate condition. Not a single burrow in sight. Had they covered them up or something? Did you become over ambitious or were you just stupid?

The crunch of stones and soil resound and you feel fear grip your lungs like a vice. Yeonjun could be anywhere, he knew this damn place better than you did that for sure. Did he catch onto your plan?

Running more, you keenly look around and you turn another corner seeing nothing to your utter disappointment. Fuck. It was only a matter of time. Even if you manage to keep Yeonjun from finding you within the time, it was a win-win for him. Freedom wasn’t on the table for you.

You freeze suddenly hearing the crunch of footsteps and immediately duck behind some hedges, covering your mouth. A twisted tune is hummed by Yeonjun who walks narrowly by, making you shiver. He was truly enjoying this.

“Oh I swear you were here, I saw that lovely face of yours just moments ago. Hm, perhaps you’re that skittish, like a little rabbit on the run from a fox?” Yeonjun utters aloud.

His voice was brimming with twisted pleasure. You ease as he walks away and you release your held breath. Fuck, that was close. Giving it a few more seconds, you slowly make your way behind the topiaries trying to remain hidden as you scour the ground. At this point, you believe you‘ve barely even made a dent into the garden. You were purely trying your luck with the edges. That just made the most sense right?

As you turn the corner to the next side, you see this side is a little more unkempt, overgrown, yet there’s still many topiaries and the path in the distance. Your eyes catch light of a few degraded streamers and a paper plate disintegrating. Huh. Perhaps you were getting close after all.

You continue making your way around, sneaking with trepidation. It was a little too quiet. You catch more glimpses of papers, broken cups and worn and torn down invites, with illegible writing and smudges. Your eyes see a worn sign; ‘Beware Timekeeper Burrow ahead, proceed with caution and watch your step. Unstable ground.’

Yes, yes, yes! You could have never been happier in your life to see a warning sign!

“Mm? Oh, I see now. It all makes sense seeing you stick to the edge of the garden,” you spin around mortified to see him approaching you with a sickening smile. “Oh darling, you’re quite the smart thing aren’t you.”

A laugh, an unhinged one emits from him, “Too bad, I’m smarter. Now, come here,” he snarls. With a piercing scream, you run almost stumbling over your own feet from fear. Oh, he was terrifying.

You hear his ragged breathing and delirious laugh getting closer, your lungs burn and vision blurs with tears. Wind whips past your face and you have to try your hardest to keep an eye out for the unassuming burrow. The soil cracks and flakes at your harsh steps, truly the ground was unstable here. Fuck!

With a curious glance over your shoulder, you scream horrendously loud seeing his hand inches from your shoulder and his manic gaze, “Got you!”

Roughly, you’re pushed down onto the ground; twigs and stones or whatever else painfully prick your back and soil stains your skin as you struggle against him. Yeonjun pins your arms down with a laugh, “Goodness, it’s been so long since I’ve been this entertained. You might become my most favourite guest I’ve ever had.”

You huff and writhe trying to escape his grasp. No, no, no! You could feel it, instinctually, you were so close! “W-What about the time-“ He chuckles his breath brushing over your face, his raven locks hanging over his eyes, “Oh, that ended ages ago. You’re good at keeping away from me you know-“

“That means I get a point-“ you scramble, your thoughts an utter mess. “So? Either way, you’re mine. It’s a tie then. What should we do about that? Hm?” Yeonjun’s lips stretch into a smile, “You’re so pretty when you try to outsmart me, you might even surpass the rage I feel right now for such a stupid move.”

Breathless, you feel your limbs ache from exhaustion, the pump of blood and adrenaline echoing in your eardrums. Not like this. His devilishly handsome face hovers over yours relishing in your defeat. No, you still had a chance. You needed to get him off you, but he had strength.

Your gaze drops to his lips, parted, panting, he was also out of breath. Were you out of your mind? Perhaps. Your gaze flicks back up to his eyes as he observes your quiet demeanor.

“Mm? What’s that lovely head of yours thinking about now?” He hums amused. You say nothing peering back down at his lips and he seems to take notice, his brows furrowing. That’s it. Confusion.

Pushing aside all rationale and morals, you tilt yourself upwards meeting your lips with his in a clumsy kiss. His eyes widen taken wildly aback. His grip loosens around your arms and you shove them away; he momentarily panics before you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him deeper into the kiss. Yeonjun freezes.

Wonderland, what a place. Perhaps you really had become insane already. Resorting to this. No matter how sinfully good his luscious lips felt against yours, no matter how lust crept into the crevices of your body. At the end of the day, your sense of self-preservation came first.

You feel him part from you breathless, desire and glee flickering in his dark gaze as he releases a breathy laugh cupping your cheek, “You’re…insane.” How ironic, his words were. You muse, “Am I?” “You dare to kiss the king?” He murmurs against your lips.

“Is that so bad?” You murmur slowly, removing his hand from your cheek. You hear the clatter of armour and he momentarily peers towards the sound. Now!

With a harsh elbow into his temple, you shoot out from under him with a brief stumble and run. For a moment, he’s dazed as his men yell bewildered, “Sire- she-!”

Yeonjun snarls with a breathless laugh, “Huh. Go get her. That sly-.” Yeonjun watches as his knights rattle after her. Though, he doesn’t seem too worried. A smirk lining his lips, his mind thinking back to your lips on his. Oh, how bold you were.

Even if you didn’t admit it, you were perhaps just as insane as he was, for attempting such a stunt. In fact, he was enraged further, because now, he really wanted you. You were no longer ever disposable. He just had to have you.

Still running, you slip here and there as the soil crumbles and gives out. Your eyes widen seeing a pile of rocks and a crevice leading to the ground. That had to be it. Without looking back, you start rolling off the rocks, sheer adrenaline pushing you through, you begin to see the cobwebbed and dark hole leading into the ground. It seemed it hadn’t been used in awhile. You didn’t even know where the fuck this headed.

You hear the knights approach. Fuck it, you couldn’t risk being trapped here for eternity. Closing your eyes and inhaling, you jump down, hissing in pain feeling the jagged stones and soil against your skin, it burned; as you slid down. Keeping your eyes shut, to avoid the claustrophobic surroundings. Dreadfully you hear the soil and ground behind you, crack and crumble and any semblance of light goes out. Oh right, the ground was unstable!

Prying your eyes open, you break out into a sprint once more seeing the passage behind you collapsing in on itself. How fucking horrifying. Tears run down your face.

Meanwhile, the knights peer from the ground mortified at the closed in burrow. Surely, you’d die? Yeonjun walks up to the sight and his gaze darkens.

“Huh, you all are more useless than expected,” his voice is eerily calm, sending utter fear through all the knights as they pale. Yeonjun crosses his arms and he hums, “It’s alright.” He gazes past the hedges through the bars of the extravagantly tall fence. Hm, this was the older burrow that Soobin used, yes? If I recall, this should go through Hatter and Hare’s territory.”

The knights peer solemnly at the crumbling burrow. Oh dear, that was a place in Wonderland everyone wanted to avoid. For that place is where one would experience death. Not that of the body, but of the mind, but of sanity.

Yeonjun hums with a flick of his wrist nonchalantly to the seething rage boiling underneath his calm exterior. His lips quirk into a sadistic smile, “It’s fine. Once she stumbles into the Hatter or that pathetic Hare, she’ll regret everything. In fact,” a chuckle leaves his lips, “She’ll be begging to come back here.”

Silence emits from the knights. Well, that’s if you didn’t suffocate to death of course.

Yeonjun snaps his head over his shoulder sending a dark gaze at the small troop of knights and he smiles a little too sweetly. “Oh, and for your incompetence to catch my guest. I’m afraid, I’m not too happy.” Yeonjun turns to face them fully and hums ruthlessly, “What good are cards that I have no use for in my deck?”

They stiffen, horror painting their faces and limbs trembling. “Savour your necks, whilst you have them, that is.” He walks past them with a dark glare and malevolent smile.

Perhaps, he’d have to take up the Hare on his repulsive invite after all. Either way, you’d find out very quickly, what a mistake it was to leave him.

Taglist: [open]

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[queen-of-reptiles]

𝚂𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙴𝚃𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚂𝙴𝙰

description: while walking alone back home along the beach, mary meets a few strangers, who teach her how to play volleyball, - her eyes are drawn however, to a better view.

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mary fowler x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction! Do not take any of this seriously.

warnings: just plain cuteness, like a few kisses and curse words but mainly just fluff and mutual pining

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y/n just posted

liked by y/f/n1, y/f/n2, and 798 others

tagged y/f/n1, jake_uts1 and 11 others

y/n sun, sea, sand and sunsets (+ an angry Sally and a smug Jake)

view 300 comments...

y/f/n1: Is the second photo after I drowned you?

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y/n: before - which is why I still look so happy 🙄

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y/f/n1: 😇😇

y/f/n2: gAWd that party was so good

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y/n: it was a veryyyyyy good night 😂

y/f/n3: i miss just dance sm omg ! 😅

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y/n: i miss you sm omg

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y/f/n3: don't i'll cry !! 🥹

sally_c: i was seconds from breaking Jake's neck

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jake_uts: Don't worry babe, I was seconds from breaking yours

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sally_c: 🥰🥰

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y/n: You guys stress me out sm as a couple

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jake_uts: 😏😏

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y/n kept her eye on the volley ball - she and her friends were on the beach, as usual, the Australian sun setting over them, the temperature perfect in the sense of they could play without sweating but it was still warm.

"Spike!" Jake called and y/n jumped, pushing the ball with a harsh slap, the ball landing at Sally's feet who groans.

"I couldn't get my hand out in time ya cu-" Sally begins, but Jamie shoves her, the boy chuckling.

"Rotate." y/n adds, skipping from the court to umpire so her friend Melanie could have a go, they were an odd number today, with Sally, Jake, Mikey, Jamie and y/n.

y/n was watching the game when she saw her, a girl walking in shorts, her shoes in her hand watching them play, watching y/n shout out suggestions as they did.

The two met eyes, both blushing slightly as they did so. y/n chocked on her own spit, turning to bend and grab her water to take a long swig.

The girl was beautiful, she was stunning, and she was walking toward y/n. The panic that flooded through y/n's body was instant when she noticed the girl coming over.

"Hi." The girl smiled.

"Gd'evening." y/n hummed, watching as Mikey tried to spike but Sally manages to block it.

"Looks like fun." the girl says, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"Oh, it is, but we're an uneven amount today - so I'm sat out for now." y/n explains.

"Well, if you guys can teach me, I can play?" The girl offers and y/n grins, she offers her hand to the beautiful girl.

"y/n." She introduces and the girl smiles.

"Mary." The girl smiles, shaking y/n's hand.

"Right listen up dick-heads." y/n calls, stopping the game but Jamie does roll his eyes at her. "If we can teach Mary how to play, she'll join in." y/n explains, Mary smiling sheepishly.

"Awesome." Jamie nods.

"Yeah great!" Mikey grins kindly.

"Sounds good." Sally adds.

"Let's do this!" Jake finishes and the group start.

They first dissect the game, Mary smiling as they explain what happens and the different type of hits. Then once they had done that, they taught her the positions of the court.

Mary was funny, she had a really pretty smile and y/n couldn't help but have to shut her eyes every few minutes to try and fight the thoughts about Mary's body.

Sally kept looking over at y/n, smirking with a knowing look in her eyes as she tried to focus on Mary and helping her play. Once Mary had warmed up a bit, y/n was teaching her how to serve.

"You want to keep your hands strong, pushing from the shoulder not the wrist." y/n explains.

"Okay." Mary nods. "Like this?" She then asks and y/n hums, moving behind her to guide her hands.

"Like this." y/n continues, not noticing the way her lips brushed Mary's ear, or the way the girl had stopped completely, trying not to sink into the warmth of y/n's chest.

"Okay." Mary breathed, Sally and Jake both sent each other a look, rolling their eyes as y/n stepped away, Mary looking back slightly with red cheeks.

Mary pushed the ball in the air, keeping her hand hard and pushing through it with her shoulder, the serve going over the net easily which caused the group to cheer.

"You got it." y/n grins and Mary smiles.

"Team time!" Sally yells. She then looks around. "Oh it is so girls vs boys." Sally then says and Jake laughs jokingly.

"Oh this will be so easy. You hit like a girl." He teases his girlfriend.

"And you whine like a boy." Sally teases him back making Jake pause and look at her confused.

"I'm not whining." Jake begins, but y/n lightly throws the ball at his face, it bouncing off his forehead and top of his nose and back into y/n's arms, causing Jake to whine and rub his head.

Jamie sighs at him and Jake pauses, realising he had fallen for Sally and y/n's trap, they high five without looking toward each other and Mary giggles behind them.

"Okay, let's play!" Mikey says, jumping up and down excitedly.

Over the next hour it was obvious the teams were very well matched, they were neck and neck in terms of victorious games and as they played the decider, they were once again a point in difference.

Mary was good, she was quick and seemed to have very good stamina, she was athletic and strong, y/n could see that in the way her muscles tensed when she jumped for a ball or hit one.

Ten minutes before their final game, Mary had taken her top off so she was wearing her swimsuit, and while y/n and her friends were already like that, y/n's mouth dropped.

Sally snorted as y/n looked away from Mary's toned arms and exposed back, she tried to ignore the giggles coming from Sally as y/n internally panicked.

Now, they were on the last game and y/n just knocked the ball over the net, Jamie running forward to hit it up and trying to get it over, y/n tipped it over again, Jake running forward to get it.

Then as it came back over, Mary spiked it into the back of the court, the ball bouncing as Mikey squealed in the hope it would help him get it.

y/n and Sally cheer, y/n moving over to pull Mary into a hug, ignoring the way Mary's hands feel on the bottom of her exposed back. Sally joins in on the hug, the three girls cheering.

"Yeah, yeah, we get it you won." Jake says and y/n laughs flipping him off as she grabs her bag.

"Whose up for drinks?" She asks and everyone's hands go up other than Mary. "You coming?" y/n asks, offering her hand.

"That okay?" Mary asks and the loud sound of 'yes; and 'of course' comes from the group.

"Come on, first round on me." y/n adds with a smile and Mary grins.

"Okay." She chuckles and takes y/n's hand, blushing as y/n squeezes it slightly, but Mary keeps their fingers looped as they walk away.

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y/n just posted on her story x3

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maryfowlerrr just posted on her story x3

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twitter/X

username1: YOOOOOO anyone seen Mary's story?

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username2: the one with THE GIRL???? 😩😩

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username3: who is she???

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username4: she's HOT 😰😰

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username5: ^^^^^

username6: I FOUND HER - she's @y/n 😌😌

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username7: you are quickkkkkk!! 😙

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username8: 🤣🤣

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The evening had now faded into very early morning, Mary and y/n were the only ones left, walking along the beach, talking about everything.

Mary explained to the group what she did and they were all mightily impressed. Sally and Jake went on to explain they were in university with y/n which was how they met and that Mikey ran a parkour park with his family.

"I just like being with kids, and I love beach sports." y/n shrugs, Mary smiling softly as y/n got bashful about what she wanted to do.

y/n had always loved the beach, she assumed it was because she was Australian through and through, but really she just loved the beach.

So, y/n had been at university for business studies and sports science, hoping to run a beach sports club for children once she got out, teaching surfing, volleyball, body boarding, the works.

"I think it sounds like a great idea." Mary promises. "You could even teach soccer." She adds, nudging y/n's shoulder and making her laugh.

"I don't know about that, I'm no Matilda." She teases Mary who rolls her eyes. "I hope you have enjoyed today, I'm sure being on Christmas break means you're meant to relax, so I hope we helped." y/n tells Mary who smiles.

Mary had come home during the break in the WSL, wanting to be with her family for Christmas and New Years, but she would soon be heading back off to the UK.

"You did. I really enjoyed today." Mary smiles.

"Good." y/n nods. Mary looks over at her, the two now back in their tops and watching the sea as the clock neared 2 am.

"You're really pretty." Mary said quietly, a soft smile on her face as she admired y/n's side profile, the girl turning to face Mary.

"So are you." y/n smiled shyly.

"Could we maybe spend some more time together?" Mary asks. "Just us, before I go?" She then asks and y/n smiles holding out her hand for Mary to take, which she does.

"I'd really like that." y/n nods and Mary grins, blushing slightly as she moves to put her head on y/n's shoulder.

"I'd really like it too." Mary says and y/n smiles out at the ocean.

"I'm really glad you decided to walk down the beach today Fowler." y/n chuckled and Mary giggled.

"So am I." Mary agreed.

The two sat there for a bit longer, sharing whispers and giggles before they got up and started to walk back to Mary's, hands linked as they moved through the quiet streets around them.

Once they got to Mary's door, the two stood talking softly for a moment, longer, eyes drinking each other in as much as they could, despite having already exchanged numbers and arranged to meet tomorrow.

"Good night Mary." y/n smiled softly and Mary pecked her cheek. "You missed." y/n hummed and Mary giggled, leaning up to peck y/n on the lips.

y/n moved her hand, cupping the back of Mary's neck to keep their lips together for just a moment longer, y/n had been thinking of doing this the second she had joined the volleyball game.

The two pulled away and y/n couldn't help but grin as Mary blushed, y/n let her hand leave the back of Mary's neck to run over her pink cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow, pretty girl." y/n promises Mary and the girl nods before y/n winks and walks away, looking back just once to see Mary jumping up and down in front of her door.

y/n smiled, looking away and walking home, suddenly deciding she was very glad for volleyball.

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END

[cissa-calls]

Rewatching Crimson Peak & Things of Focus and Notice:

As a child at her mothers funeral, Edith wears butterfly/moth earrings

Is the pen her father gifts her the one she later uses to stab Lucille? He describes the importance of having “The right tool for the job,” is that foreshadowing for gifting her the tool to begin her escape from Crimson Peak?

Is Edith wearing a butterfly hair clip when she dances the waltz with Thomas?

Lucille’s iconic crimson red gown is so detailed, so beautiful. It represents the skeletal ghosts with its spinal column along the back, crimson peak itself in color, the carapace of a bug on the sleeves and structure, and the upper bodice has trim that blooms outward (present similarly in her blue gown) but is bisected by buttons…creating a familiar shape…a moth?

The candle they hold during the waltz is held at the same level Edith holds her iconic candelabra, a subtle parallel

The trim on the collar of Lucille’s black dress references the spikes and trims of gothic architecture - which is very heavily featured in Allerdale Hall

Lucille says that: “At home we only have Black moths, formidable creatures but they lack beauty.” Knowing the parallel between her and moths, it implies that she sees herself as a survivor and powerful, but something no longer beautiful because of it

Lucille places the butterfly she holds directly into the ants, an action that’s brutal but quick. Is it foreshadowing to her execution of Edith’s death? Something quick for such a beautiful thing, done by her hand?

The LOOK Lucille gives Thomas when they realize Edith’s father knows their past. THE LOOK (JESSICA CHASTAIN YOUR ACTING)

“You seem the more collected one my dear” Lucille is called this. She always holds the mission undetered in her mind, as opposed to Thomas who seems more easily swayed by emotions

When Thomas breaks Edith’s heart by ripping apart her book. He says: “What do you dream of? A kind man? A pure soul to be redeemed? A wounded bird to be nourished?” He is telling her exactly what he is. None of those things, none of the dreams she has built of him in her mind. Not with a past and life such as his.

The significance of gramophones and wax cylinders: it is what plays when Edith’s father is murdered, it is also what saves her from meeting the same fate

I want to know more about Lucille!! Her character is so rich, so so complex, she needs more screen time!!

Need a prop replica of the ring NOW

[the house] “is a privilege we were born into, one we can never relinquish” METAPHOR ALERT METAPHOR ALERT metaphor for the cycles of abuse and trauma they could not break

HOW THE FRICK did I MISS the fact that Thomas’ workshop is in the attic when that was where him and Lucille were locked up as children. SO MANY IMPORTANT SCENES HAPPEN THERE. So many significant to their past we never see, so many ghosts not visible but are so real and present to have caused this

The trail of smoke like red essence that emanates from the ghosts as they walk, like they are still bleeding

Lucille’s hair looks black in darker lighting, but a dark brunette in others. It’s provides a black, dark shroud when she’s in America, and catches more light when she’s in Allerdale Hall

“I like to think she can see us from up there. I don’t want her to miss a single thing we do.” UM MA’AM

“…in time, everything will be right” LUCILLE QUEEN OF FINAL OMINOUS STATEMENTS IN SCENES

The amount I WISH to explore this set. To pry apart each detail and pick apart each piece, so much of it had to be handcrafted pieces for the movie or vintage pieces sourced for it. LET ME IN

THE LIGHTING MUAH

The ghost in the hallway has a rope dragging behind her…is this a gory detail, or an allusion to how she may have died (if not by poison)?

The ghost in Edith’s dream is pointing, though it is never shown to what. Is it to the exit, her warning to leave as all the other ghosts try to do?

The children’s laughter after the presumed scream of their mother’s ghost as she is stabbed, is it just for creepy effect, or did Lucille and Thomas actually laugh after they murdered her?

The scar on Lucille’s lip? Never noticed it before!

Not the first time I’ve noticed it, but the act of her clutching hot steaming food with her bare hands is chilling every single time

Were the bodies of Thomas’s wives left in the vats of clay? I don’t know HOW I didn’t make that connection before, originally i thought it was merely for creepy effect.

Many people villainize Lucille and try to make Thomas out to be solely a victim. But as stated in the wax cylinder, he was fueled by his desire to pay for and make his machine. Him and Lucille are both complacent in using their victims money for their own gain

We need to bring Chatelaine’s back into fashion. That is all.

The scrape of the spoon over the porcelain cup, it screeches and is a subtle way that shows Lucille act of caring has a harshness to it, an unpleasant sound resulting from an otherwise pleasant action: tending to Edith

Such an interesting camera choice to have the camera focus in a circular inwards and outwards

also also Lucille has a temple scar on her forehead?

The small amount of glee Lucille takes saying Edith “thought [she] was was a writer” as she throws the pages to her novel in the fire.

The absolute deadpan, matter-of-fact-ness Lucille has to Edith when she signs the papers “you have nothing to live for” & “mercy killings.” This is a familiar repeated cycle

“Sign your name! Sign your bloody name!” Bloody is not just for emphasis. Edith’s name is soon to be nothing but blood

Lucille’s night gown sleeves as she flies down the stairs in pursuit - like a moths wings fluttering towards its prey

Lucille and Edith fought each other with bare feet on the stone and in the snow

Lucille is the only one of the two who knows how to start Thomas’s machine, because she was the one who witnessed it working

It is only the stab wound on Thomas’ face that bleeds and smokes when he is a ghost, perhaps because it is the wound that bears his betrayal by Lucille, reminiscent of tears of his lingering pain

Edith now has a facial scar, gifted to her by Lucille, who bore ones of her own. It is a passage, a continuing of the cycle, but it is its finale. It is Edith’s souvenir from Lucille, who took her own souvenir (her hair) from the other like a prize

[stayteezdreams]

Good Luck Charm: Part One

Plot: When your cat takes a liking to a nearby neighbor, nothing seems to stop her from escaping.

-Part Two-

Pairing: Lee Minho x Gn!Reader

-Meet-Cute Series Masterlist-

Warnings: Nothing I can think of :)

Words: 2.4k

"Charm!" You called out softly as you walked through your apartment. "Charm! Come here baby!" You called again, your voice becoming a slightly higher pitch as you tried to get your cat to come out of wherever she was hiding.

Checking her normal spots, but not seeing her, you felt your heart rate spike. Walking around your apartment you continued calling out to her, your panic rising as you couldn't seem to find her anywhere.

Entering your living room, your eyes landed on the window, it was open only a small amount. It was normal for you to open it, and Charm, in your three years of having her, a few months of which were in this apartment, had never even attempted to get out, so why now?

Running over to the window, panic now obvious as you feared she had been gone for too long, you opened the window and stuck your head out.

Your eyes immediately landed on Charm as she sat on the sidewalk below. "Charm!" You called out, watching as she turned around and looked up at you, meowing softly.

After a few attempts of trying to get her to climb back up, and her stubbornly refusing. You ran down to the street as fast as you could, relieved to find her sill sitting on the sidewalk when you got there.

Getting back into your apartment, after chastising her the whole way back, you made sure the window was closed before you allowed yourself to relax.

"You lost your window privileges, I hope you don't miss fresh air too much" You spoke to her as she sat at your feet, an innocence in her eyes you couldn't resist. "Maybe I can get a screen installed."

You sighed after a moment before walking into the kitchen, Charm following close behind "How about some dinner then you jerk."

As you stared at Charm ignoring her food, you feared maybe she was sick, or maybe got hurt on her adventure outside.

"Or did someone pity you and feed you?" Charm stared blankly at you "Is that why you went out? You smelled food on someone who went by?"

Getting no response you shook your head "That have better been a one-time attempt young lady."

You left Charms food on the ground as you began to settle for the evening, hoping the stressful event of the day would not be repeated again.

A few days had passed since Charm and her adventure outside, and you had nearly forgotten about it. Though the window had remained closed.

Until now that is.

You had gotten distracted and forgot your food on the stove, causing the food to burn, and smoke to fill your kitchen. Rushing to the window to open it, you chased out all the smoke, but not before setting your fire alarm off.

After ten minutes of manic fanning and two failed attempts and shutting the alarm off, you plopped down on your couch, breathless.

"So much for lunch." You mumbled as you looked around, noticing a light smokey air still lingering in your apartment.

Your eyes landed on the window before the sudden remembrance of Charm popped into your head. "Oh no."

Running to the window you looked out, just in time to see her familiar fluffy tail disappearing down the sidewalk.

"Charm! You yelled out in panic before rushing from your apartment.

Minho hummed softly to himself as he walked back to his dorm, grocery bags in hand and thoughts bouncing from various things. He looked around him as he got a whiff of smoke 'Smell's like someone burned their lunch.' he thought to himself with a smirk.

Suddenly hearing a drawn out meow from behind him, Minho stopped and turned around, spotting a familiar cat charging towards him.

"Oh, you again!" He said softly as he stopped and crouched down, petting the cat as she began rubbing against his legs. "Did you escape again?" He asked with a smirk, but worry sat in his chest hoping she hadn't gotten too far from her home.

His ears caught on another noise as he heard a panicked yell. Looking up, another moment passed before he heard someone calling out a second time. Suddenly, from around the corner, he watched as you appeared, panic on your face.

As your eyes landed on him and then to the cat, he saw relief wash over your face and he almost smiled.

"Charm!" You called out, exasperation in your tone as you jogged up to him.

Minho stood up, his eyes now glued to you as he took you in.

You were disheveled, obviously from chasing your cat, but you were still attractive. As your eyes met his, he felt his chest tighten a bit as you smiled in greeting, though you held an awkwardness in it as you looked at Minho.

Charm meowed before she ran up to you, rubbing against your legs, you immediately crouched down and picked her up "Why did you do that again?" You asked softly as you held her tight to your chest before looking up and meeting Minho's eyes again.

It was now that Minho realized he had not stopped staring at you. Afraid he might freak you out, he smiled and cleared his throat softly.

"So she does have an owner then."

You smiled and nodded "Yes" you let out a soft laugh "I swear she doesn't do this often, just twice, now, and both were recent."

"Yeah, we've met before." Minho said with a chuckle as he looked at Charm.

"You have?"

He nodded as he met your eyes again, he motioned towards the road you had come from "When I was coming back from the store, just like today, she appeared in the street. I pet her for a while, and even gave her some cat treats, which I hope you don't mind." He added on quickly.

You shook your head and smiled "No, I don't! Though that explains why she didn't eat her dinner." You thought for a minute before you spoke softly "Do you, walk by often, by chance?"

He nodded and you let out a knowing hum "I think she has a crush." You mumbled as you kissed her head before looking at Minho with a light panic in your eyes, which you followed up with an awkward laugh.

Minho smiled as he let out a chuckle, taking a step closer as he reached out and quickly pet Charm's head "You called her Charm?"

You nodded your head "Yeah, 'cause she's my good luck charm, though recently she's testing her luck."

Minho chuckled "And what's your name?"

You met his eyes, and felt a bit surprised before you smiled "Oh, Y/n"

His smile softened and you felt your heart thump "I'm Lee Minho."

You nodded politely "It's nice to meet you Lee Minho, thank you for being kind to Charm." You added on softly, your voice suddenly becoming shy.

He tilted his head a bit as he smiled, his eyes going back and forth between you and Charm "No problem."

After a moment of silence you cleared your throat "I should get going, I don't think I locked my door behind me when I ran out." You chuckled.

He continue to smile widely at you as he nodded. You took a step back as you gave him another smile "Bye."

He gave you a slight bow as he let out a soft laugh "Bye."

Turning, you began walking away hugging Charm tightly to your chest, probably a bit more than you intended as she squirmed against you. But your heart was pounding so heavy in your chest you barely noticed.

As you rounded the corner, you looked back, and felt your heart leap when you saw Minho still standing in the same spot, watching you with a soft smile still present on his face.

You quickly looked away, trying not to smile as you walked faster back to your apartment.

Looking down at Charm you spoke in a whisper. "So is he the reason why you keep escaping?" she meowed softly and you nodded "I don't blame you honestly."

When you had first rounded the corner, and saw him crouched down petting Charm, your breath seemed to disappear. You hadn't expected to see someone so gorgeous, not to mention kind. Especially since you were out of breath, probably visibly disheveled, and smelling like smoke.

You clenched your eyes shut, hoping he didn't think you looked crazy. As you made your way back into your apartment, you wondered if you'd see him again. You wanted to see him again, but you hoped next time you wouldn't be in such shambles.

Minho wasn't really sure why he couldn't stop staring at you, or how he couldn't look away as you left. He wasn't sure why he wanted to call out to you as you did, wanting to know more about you.

When you looked back at him as you rounded the corner, and he swore he saw a smile starting to form, he felt his heart clench.

After you disappeared from view, and he finally continued on his way home, he wondered if he would see you again. He knew what street you must live on. So maybe, he could make a few more extra trips to the store this week? Just in case he might see you again.

As you grunted, struggling to open your door, arms full of grocery bags, your eyes moved around your apartment before landing on Charm. She was staring forlornly out of the window, which now had a security screen on it.

Dropping a bag, you cursed under your breath before you not so gently dropped the rest of your bags onto the floor. Suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, a small brown figure darted past.

"Wha-" Looking to see Charm dart down the hall, you almost tripped as you ran after her, slamming your door behind you "Charm!"

You called her in desperation as she made her way down the stairs and towards the street. "What has gotten into you!" You yelled out, though in the back of your mind, behind the panic, was the thought of Minho. Did she see him out the window? Is she looking for him?

As your feet hit the pavement outside, your question was answered as you saw her running up to a familiar figure, who was staring at her with a look of surprise and amusement.

Minho's eyes followed where she had come from, landing on you as you appeared breathless and distraught from the nearby building.

You gestured your arms in bewilderment as you jogged over, Minho couldn't help the giggle that escaped him.

This was the fifth time he had walked down this street since he had met you last week. And every time his eyes scanned the area for Charm, and for you, always wondering how nearby you were, and if he might run into you again.

As you approached him, his eyes scanned over you, you were much more put together than last time, though a bit breathless. As you smiled sheepishly at him his heart leapt in his chest.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you approached him "Hello again" You said with a soft breathy laugh.

"Hello." He said with a wide smile, that made your heart jump.

Grabbing Charm and scooping her up into your arms you looked up at your apartment window "She must have seen you walking by, she darted out the door as I was bringing in groceries."

He let out a soft laugh as he looked at Charm who meowed softly. Reaching out to pet her he didn't stop smiling "My existence seems to be causing you trouble." He joked as he met your eyes.

You smiled and shook your head "I don't think I'd call it trouble."

"No?" He asked with a soft tilt of his head, causing your ears to grow hot.

"Maybe...just a added excitement I wasn't expecting?"

He smiled, his own ears growing hot, he hoped his hair was long enough to cover them so you didn't notice.

Shyly looking down at Charm, you smiled softly "I don't know why she decided to grow so attached to you."

"Cats tend to like me. I have three myself."

"Oh?" You showed obvious curiosity at this, which made his heart warm.

He nodded "They live with my parents though."

"Oh." You nodded in understanding, you had only recently found a place to live that allowed you to have cats. "Maybe that's why she likes you, she knows she can trust you. But, she seems to have developed separation anxiety." You added on jokingly.

Minho grinned, speaking before he really though about it "Maybe we should fix that huh?"

Your eyes darted up to his, as he smiled with a raise of his brow. His heart was pounding but he was hiding his nervousness.

"Maybe you could bring her out every once and a while for a visit? Maybe she wont keep escaping."

Your heart was pounding in your chest at the idea. You smiled, hoping your face wasn't flushing too much. "Or, you could come in and visit her yourself on occasion."

You were surprised at yourself for suggesting it, but as Minho's face turned from surprise to a bright smile you felt a bit of relief.

"That works too." He said softly, his eyes staring into yours.

He took a small step closer and you felt your breath catch. He started to pet Charm before he spoke with an added shyness to his own voice.

"She really is a good luck charm isn't she?"

"How do you mean?" You asked curiously, your voice soft.

His eyes slowly left Charm and met yours, there was a softness in his gaze that could have made you swoon had you less control over yourself.

"I was hoping I'd see you again. And here you are. Because of her."

You were speechless for a moment, before you spoke softly. "You wanted to see me again?"

He nodded, a small smile on his face. Spotting redness in his ears, you realized he was feeling as effected as you were. You couldn't help but smile.

"I was hoping the same." You admitted with a quiet voice, that only made Minho's smile widen as he stared at you with starry eyes.

Charm looked between the two of you, before letting out a small meow. You couldn't help but wonder, maybe this was her plan all along.

xx End xx

-Part Two-

This blog is still growing so reblogs would be super appreciated!~

Taglist: @bubblesreplies, @halesandy, @why-am-i-sad

[quirkwizard]

Pro Heroes at the Olympic Games

Well, it's been another three years and another Summer Games has rolled around. Only seems fair I'd try again with a post about what heroes would belong in what games. This can be based on anything from powers to skills to whatever I think would be the funniest to see.

Kamui Woods-Archery: I just think it'd be really cool for Kamui Woods to make a bow and arrow from his wooden body. I don't need any more reason than that.

Midnight-Rhythmic Gymnastics: I mean, a whip is pretty close to a ribbon. And it's not like the outfit she has to wear is that much different from her hero costume.

Sir Nighteye-Golf: Sir Nighteye seems like the kind of guy that would be into golfing. That's it. I just thought it'd be fitting for the guy that looks and dresses like a stoic businessman.

Hound Dog-Handball: This is a sport all about catching and throwing a ball around and keeping it away from another team. Naturally, this should be no problem for the man who is part dog.

Beast Jeanist-Diving: The need for precision and elegance would, in this event, fit great with someone like Best Jeanist. That and it's the sport with the least amount of clothing for him to cheat with.

Mount Lady-Sports Climbing: She's got mountain in her name. Of course that means she's good at climbing. Oh, who am I kidding? She'll just turn giant-sized and reach the top instantly.

Snipe-Shooting: Considering all of his shots are guaranteed hits, I would want to see how disrespectful Sniper would get with this. Like doing it with his eyes closed or even shooting other people's targets.

Miruko-Basketball: I could have chosen any leg-based sport for her, but I wanted to pick the one with some more direct competition. Plus, there is the easy reference in putting her in a Toon Squad jersey.

Present Mic-Breaking: Yeah, apparently breaking dancing is considered an Olympic sport. And look me in the eye and tell me Present Mic of all people doesn't know how to break dance.

Nezu-Table Tennis: This is just the only sport that I think could fit him. Literally. He might be too small to use or do any of the sports on the roster. Even then, he's going to have to wield the paddle like a claymore.

Wild Wild Pussycats-3x3 Basketball: Considering this is one of the few team events that requires such a small number, it only feels fitting to place Ragdoll, Mandalay, and Pixie Bob here. And what about Tora? He can be a cheerleader.

Fat Gum-Wrestling: Could you imagine someone trying to wrestle as big and plushy as Fat Gum? They're going to go in for the grapple and immediately sink right inside of him. Now the real question is whether or not it counts as a clinch or a pin.

Eraserhead-Artistic Gymnastics: I wanted to give him Rhythmic Gymnastics so badly with how well it fits him, he even has the ribbon for it, but it's a women's only sport in the games. Still, this fits well enough with his impressive acrobatic skills.

Edgeshot-Fencing: Perfect set up for a fencer. He can make himself as thin as an epee and extend himself out as his pleases. Plus, it's the only official sport that lets you wear a mask in game, which should be no issue for Edgeshot.

Endeavor-Boxing: While I could say that I think that Endeavor is smart enough to handle the sweet science of boxing, the real reason is that he is that huge. I don't even think he'd need his powers to demolish someone in the ring.

Gang Orca-Water Polo: While Gang Orca would kill in any of the water-based events, he would definitely kill it in an event where hitting something really hard is part of the goal with his strength boost. Seriously, his spike might actually kill someone.

Ectoplasm-Rowing: This sport is all about being as in sync as possible with the rest of the rowers. Why bother when you can have your hivemind of clones work perfectly together? And if any of them run out of juice, just switch out one of your clones with a fresh one, no one will notice.

Hawks-Skating: Like Sir Nighteye, Hawks just looks and acts like he would be a skater. It wouldn't surprise me if it was part of his training at the Hero Commission to appeal to a younger demographic. Now he can truly become like his heroic namesake, Tony Hawk.

[ollypopwrites]

From Depths Unknown; Part 2

Part 1 here ; You can also read on Ao3.

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence, drinking, sexual content (male masturbation, dom/sub undertones, switch dynamics, choking is briefly mentioned), slow burn, slightly enemies to lovers but not quite, background Bloodweave, the use of ‘idiot’ as a term of endearment, domestic violence and past child abuse, jealousy.

Series Summary:

Rolan couldn’t figure out what he did wrong. He thought he had been better, had held his tongue when a particularly harsh remark inevitably wanted to make it out, he had called her a friend, given her party free reign of the tower. But Tav seemed distant. 

Notes: We are getting a little spicy! I love these two, we should have another update soon-ish. Maybe not this weekend, but soon.

Baldur’s Gate was busy.

After so long in the Underdark and then the Shadowcursed lands, Tav felt strangely crowded by the amount of people in the streets. And her mental list of tasks was getting longer by the minute. There was so much to do, and time was not on their side given the regular psionic earthquakes shaking the city. As she got them all settled in a room at the Elfsong (discounted thanks to a nasty murder in the room just next door) she wanted one night to get her wits about her.

Most everyone went their separate ways for the night: Shadowheart teamed up with Lae’zel to go speak with Voss, Halsin felt the need to shut himself up in the room, Jaheira had Harper business to attend to, while Wyll and Karlach went searching some old haunts for any friends that may still have been in the city. Gale and Astarion accompanied Tav downstairs to the pub, where they all delightfully wanted to share some quality drinks rather than the beggar's choices they had been drinking on the road. A familiar voice rang out amongst the crowd, singing a jaunty tune that had some nearby patrons singing along. 

“That’s Alfira!” Tav said excitedly. 

The bard had her audience’s gleeful attention, and nearby Tav spotted Lakrissa watching on. Her eyes flitted around the room, hoping to find another familiar face. The tieflings had set off for Baldur’s Gate shortly after the battle, ready to finally get to their destination now that the road was clear. The party had only crossed paths with them again just before entering Rivington. Rolan, Cal, Lia, Alfira and Lakrissa had joined them for a night of drinking to celebrate.

It was no party as they had after the Grove, but it was a much needed night of relief after the constant threat of the curse. Tav found herself wandering over to talk to him as often as she could. He was like a new person: excitement palpable at the prospect of finally making it to Ramazith’s Tower. She’d never seen him smile so much, and while she would never call him giddy — he was as close as Rolan could possibly be to such a state. 

The next night the tieflings left, and with them the rosy glow of victory dissipated. The tadpole crew  had been attacked by Githyanki and had to run to their Dream Guardians aid. only to find out that the mysterious entity in the prism was in fact a mindflayer called The Emperor. 

The idea that the one thing saving her was the very creature which she was actively trying not to change into felt poetic somehow. Fucked up to be sure, but poetic. 

Tav’s eyes danced along the crowd, looking for horns and flashes of red skin. Her excitement spiked, “look! It’s Cal and Lia.”

Astarion groaned, “here we go.”

“What?” 

“The tieflings are a charming group but everytime we cross them they need saving,” he said. “We really don’t have time for more heroics, darling, we got them to the city. Let them fend for themselves.”

“They’re friends, Astarion,” Gale scolded lightly.

“Needy friends.”

“I know all about those,” she gave him a pointed look. 

Astarion made a show of pouting, and batting his eyelashes which made Gale chuckle slightly into his cup. Their resident vampire couldn’t quite blush, but she saw his lips twitch in a sweet smile as he looked at Gale. 

“I’m going to say hello,” Tav said promptly, standing and grabbing her glass. “You two stay here and canoodle or whatever it is you get up to.” 

“Canoodle,” Astarion gagged the word. “You’re rubbing off on her now, Wizard.” 

“Expanding one’s vocabulary is nothing to scoff at!” 

“Having one walking encyclopedia is more than enough,” Astarion blithely retorted, “two would be intolerable.”

Tav was already making her way across the room as the two started bickering, her presence forgotten quickly as they started in on what she had to believe was their own special form of foreplay. As she came up, Lakrissa spotted her with a happy wave and she plopped down on the seat next to Cal. 

“It’s you!” He said happily. “When did you get here?”

“Just got into the city today. We crashed Gortash’s coronation and then nabbed the suite upstairs.” 

“Do you ever stop?” Lia asked aghast. “Less than a week ago you were infiltrating Moonrise.” 

“I wish I could stop,” Tav took a long drink. “It’s one thing after the other.”

“Being a hero is a full time job then?” Lia smirked. 

“More than full time,” Tav said. “And the pay is shit.” 

Lia laughed, “in that case, I’ll buy you a drink.” 

As Lia stood to head to the bar, Tav turned to Cal. “You lot made it in okay? No trouble?”

“Smoothest part of the journey. We got here just before they closed off the gate,” he said. “Lia’s already got work, and we’ve got a shoddy little place around here.” 

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Tav touched his shoulder. “Rolan must be so happy.” 

At the mention of his brother, Cal’s smile fell for a moment, but he quickly said, “he’s been working hard.” 

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” She smiled, “is he staying with you?”

“No, he stays at the tower,” Cal said. “We… we haven’t seen much of him since we arrived.”

“Oh,” Tav said dumbly. Something felt off. 

“He writes though, just today he sent us some of his earnings,” Cal said. “We go to the shop to see him, but he makes us leave. Doesn’t want anyone to think he’s mucking about.”

Tav’s frown deepened. “I’ve got to head to Sorcerer's Sundries, maybe I can get him to come out for a drink.” 

“We’d like that,” Cal smiled. 

The first time he can remember his father hitting his mother was because she took the blame for a broken glass. Rolan hadn’t meant to, he was toying with the weave, practicing from a book he was borrowing and the spell went wrong. It shattered the glass into a million shards. 

He and his mother had looked at each other for split moment before she grabbed the biggest pieces and put them in the sink. When his father stormed in, she apologized, showing a bloody hand from the glass. Her apology hadn’t mattered, nor had tears or begging. They never did. After she died there was no one else to take the blame or the beatings. Rolan had always been tall, taller than all of his friends, but he was lanky and awkward. His hands were never comfortable in the shape of a fist, his arm never created the momentum to do any damage. He tried; every time his father’s fist made contact all Rolan felt was hot fury, his arms flailing and seeming to slide off of his target. It wasn’t until the hot fury turned into a witchbolt that he ever felt on even ground with his father. Rolan had left the house leaving him in as bad of shape as he always left his son, for once. 

He never went back into that house after that night. 

The bruises currently on his face felt nostalgic in a way that turned his stomach. Lorroakan and his father were similar in a sense that everything and nothing turned their moods, but his new master had the unfortunate upper hand of also having magic at his disposal. He had worked too hard to get where he was to up and leave the apprenticeship. Too much suffering, too much sacrifice; there would be no running to Cal and Lia’s doorstep as in his youth. He had to stick it out until he was in a position to claim something better. 

His mind had justified the beatings as a test, perhaps on keeping the mind focused even under threat. If he let the inkling that he had been duped linger too long he felt a shame and rage that was unbearable. So he put his head down, he worked hard, he took the beatings and he learned. Not from Lorrokan, but from other tellers around the shop. From the books Tolna suggested with her whispers becoming more conspiratorial and her eyes sympathetic. He hadn’t been to see Cal and Lia in days. 

He knew how they would react. His plan was to wait until the bruising went down and then face them again. Rolan’s position at the front was never boring, there was no way Sorcerer’s Sundries could ever be boring, he was convinced. It was incredibly busy, people coming in for protections against the threat of the cult that was at the doorstep of the city. He didn’t think twice when an armored group of four walked through the doors, just continued making sure the stock requisition forms were correct. 

“Rolan!”

That voice. For a moment he forgot that he had been beaten to a pulp the night before, too distracted by excitement when he looked up and saw her. Gale, Astarion and the Archdruid fell behind as Tav bound up to the front desk. 

“Tav,” he  greeted, unable to keep the warmth out of his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Her smile fell a bit and her eyes flicked over his face. “Rolan, you - you look a little… worse for wear.” She frowned, “what happened to your face?” 

“Nothing for you to worry about,” The stinging of the cut on his lip splitting with his forced smile made him aware of how badly he looked again.  And Tav looked unconvinced. 

“Hardly a place to learn, working behind a desk,” Halsin commented. 

“This is my… apprenticeship.” He shrugged. “It has not been what I expected. Master Lorroakan is a… difficult man.” 

There was a crackle of static, the light shining from behind Tav’s eyes. He saw her take a deep breath, and place an easy smile on her face. Saving him his dignity, he’d presume. 

“He’s consumed by this pursuit of the Nightsong. I haven’t learnt a thing, and I fear it will stay that way.”  

“A lucky escape,” Gale chimed in, “given Lorroakan’s reputation. He’d have little of value to teach you.” 

Rolan smiled in thanks. “But never mind that. What can I do for you?”

Tav looked like she wanted to say something, even opened her mouth to start but she hesitated. Finally, she said, “funny you mention it, we actually have information about the Nightsong.”

Rolan leveled her with a serious look. A pit forming in his stomach. “Be very sure before you make a visit to Lorroakan,” he warned, “he’s got a beastly temper.” At her raised eyebrow at the comment, he quickly added, “but if you really do know something, he’ll want to see you. Head upstairs, you can find the way into his tower up there.” 

“We will,” she nodded. 

“Before we speak with your… beastly master,” Gale chimed in, “might you direct us in the direction of where we can find tomes of a rare nature?”

“Tolna handles tomes,” he said, “just around this pillar.” 

“Wonderful, thank you,” Gale said, then leaned in, “if you want a real teacher, the Elfsong is our home for the duration of our stay.” He winked before he walked away, ushering Astarion and Halsin away with him.

“Rolan,” Tav said. 

“Don’t,” he said, a bit more brusquely than he wanted to. “There’s nothing you can do.” 

“Has that ever stopped me before?”

“I mean it,” his temper flared, he closed his eyes, breathed deeply and then, “your party will be waiting for you.”

“Come by tonight,” she said quickly. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I owe you a bottle of Arabellan Dry.”

She walked away then. He tried not to let his gaze follow her, but it did anyway, interrupted by a customer coming up to the desk. And then another. Incapable of controlling the desire to look at her, he turned to Tolna’a corner of the shop.  Tav was looking at him, a darker look than he had seen before. She looked away quickly when she was caught, speaking with Tolna until they decided to make their way up the stairs. 

If Lorroakan laid a finger on her, Rolan was not sure he could contain himself. She could handle herself, she had her friends by her side even if she couldn't, but he would never forgive himself if she came down those steps with a single mark from his bastard master.

He wasn’t sure how long they were up there, speaking to his master. But when they came down she was storming towards the entrance, not looking back, with her party following as they always did. At the very least she looked unharmed, if not furious. He opened his mouth to call after her, but someone came up to the counter and he had to keep himself from chasing after her.

After his shift, he withstood the usual line of questions watching Lorroakan closer than ever. The man seemed unharmed, a little angrier than usual, but so distracted he waved Rolan off after one sharp smack across his face. It was not too late, and the walk to the Elfsong was not terribly long.

Rolan made it to the door of the inn, people were gathered outside speaking, the doors open and letting the sounds of revelry spill into the street. There was no initial sight of anyone he knew from his spot on the threshold of the door. The idea of pretending everything was fine made his stomach churn, in fact, he was not sure he was capable of it. 

Every negative emotion he ever harbored only ever warped into an anger he was still learning to temper. He was angry and ashamed and the pub was too loud so he turned around. Cowardly of him, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her or know if she had confronted Lorroakan on his behalf. Ever since she had come back from Moonrise separate from the freed prisoners, an uncomfortable parallel had drawn itself in his mind. 

Seeing her bruised and bloody always reminded him of his mother bearing wounds and blame that were meant for him.

When Rolan didn’t show up at the Elfsong, it had stung. She tried not to take it personally, she tried not to think too much on it, but there she was alone with an unopened bottle of his favorite wine. She was sat dejectedly around the unused pipe the room came with, sitting on some of the pillows that littered the floor. 

“Well, no point in letting it go to waste,” Astarion sighed, feigning actual sympathy for her situation as he sat with her, “may as well crack it open.” 

She tugged it closer to her protectively. “I owe him this bottle, I’ll bring it to him when we go back.” 

Astarion gave her a look that not even the tadpole needed to decipher: it screamed ‘you can’t be serious.’ She felt her face heat up, and looked away. 

“If I knew you liked your sweethearts a little mean I would have gone about my seduction much differently,” he finally teased. 

“And you think you were what? Sweet?” 

“Not sweet,” he conceded, “more… sultry.” 

“Well it seemed to work on Gale,” she muttered. 

Astarion leveled her with a half-hearted glare. “I thought you weren’t interested. I could always ask him if he’s up for a third.” 

“No, thank you,” she shuddered dramatically. “That’s too much ego for me.” 

“Afraid you couldn’t keep up, darling?”

“I’m afraid I won’t fit into the bed,” she scoffed, “it’s remarkable enough that the pair of your giant heads fit into one room.” 

Astarion chuckled a little. “It’s not  just our  heads that are big, my dear.”

Tav launched a pillow at him, and his true laugh, high pitched and unrehearsed echoed making her smile. “I suppose we ought to tell Dame Aylin about Lorroakan.”

Astarion hummed. “I do want to see her rip him in half, but we just settled in for the night. Perhaps in the morning.”

“The morning sounds good,” Tav nodded, trying to hide her disappointment.

When she had discovered Lorroakans goals for Aylin, Tav found an opportunity present itself. While he had his own head up his ass, and was a cruel bastard, she could feel his power even by just standing in the room. She had more than enough reasons to blast him out of the window; he wanted to imprison Aylin, he had been rather rude to Gale, and then there was the state of Rolan’s face. 

Gods, she could have sent a fireball in his face for that alone. 

But he was powerful. And having Dame Aylin at their side to rid the world of his wretched smirking face would probably be a good idea. And Tav supposed it would mean a lot to Aylin to take down another megalomaniac that wanted to use her for immortality. After hundreds of years of imprisonment she could offer her new ally that. 

“He’s very proud,” Astarion said suddenly. 

“Lorroakan? Proud is putting it lightly.” 

“Rolan,” Astarion emphasized. 

“Oh.” 

“When we found you by the lake I thought he might hit you,” Astarion was not looking at her, but his tone had a rare tinge of sincerity. 

“Oh, no, Astarion, no,” Tav said immediately. “He was angry, but he had just saved me. Pulled me out of the lake and I — I said some unkind things.” 

“I’m only saying,” Astarion seemed to bolster every genuine fiber of his being to say, “you ought not sit around sullenly for a man who is only ever angry at you for helping him. There’s plenty of people whose eye you’ve caught, you hardly have to settle for someone who can’t be bothered to show up.” 

It hurt to hear, but there may have been a tinge of truth to it. Still, Astarion had not been there by the lake when he shared his last bottle with her. She’d seen something in him that night, something that plagued her thoughts when the rest of camp went quiet and she was alone. It was some unknown depth she had yet to reach, and desperately wanted to. 

She shook her head. “You still can’t have this bottle. I’m a woman of my word.” 

“Spoilsport,” he pouted. 

The moment passed, and they went about the night without mentioning Rolan. Except when Gale came to sit with them and inquired after him to which Astarion elbowed him hard enough to make the Wizard wheeze. For the rest of the night it was business as usual with her friends and as she fell asleep she found herself wondering  if Astarion was right to be warning her off of these feelings that had bloomed. 

An ungodly crash shook the building, raining down glass upon the patrons and stopped only by some quick thinking on Tonlu’s behalf. Shortly after Tav and her crew came storming through the door and without even a passing glance they ran up the stairs towards the top of the tower. 

“Hey! What are you —“ 

When none of them were stopped by his exclamation, he jumped over the desk to follow them up.  As he followed them into their portal of choice, Lorroakan stood confronting an incredibly tall otherworldly looking winged woman. 

Tav stood a decent distance behind, her arms folded over her chest and her stance sturdy. He had rarely seen her in action, and the one time he had it was a dark chaotic whirl when she saved him from the Shadow Curse. Gale stood at her side, even his demeanor in the face of confrontation had changed from its normal welcoming smile to a stern focus. Karlach was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, and the Archdruid stood still but there was something about his demeanor which resembled a creature about to pounce. In all honesty, they were terrifying. 

“What are you so scared of magus? Not the Nightsong, surely, she’s nothing but a relic to be purchased and pursued.” The winged woman seethed. 

Rolan was brought out of his awe at Tav and her companions. He stared at the winged woman. “My gods, the Nightsong is a person?”

“Boy! At the ready,” Lorroakan commanded, “once I’ve taken control of the aasimar she must go directly into the caging runes.”

Everything in him rejected the idea. He felt Tav’s eyes on him, leaving him bolstered by righteousness “No, Master Lorroakan,” he said firmly, “I would never have assisted you if I knew you planned such horrors.” He would not be cowed by the rage that slipped onto Lorroakan’s face. “You lied to get the Nightsong here. Made us all believe she was nothing but a relic.” He turned to Tav, “I  have seen what true leadership can accomplish — “ and finally to his master, “but never under your tutelage.” 

“Watch your tongue, you child,” Lorroakan hissed, “I could make it such that no wizard in the realm will touch you.” 

“If they’re all like you, I think that sounds like an excellent bargain,” Rolan shot back.

This pleased the aasimar, who rallied a truly hateful laugh, “face us, charlatan! We who detest you so.”

Then it was a blur of violence.

 Rolan kept his focus on Lorroakan as did the Nightsong. Tav and her friends kept the myrmidon’s he had summoned at bay after making quick work of his assistant. Tav was a storm of magic, untamed and rawly powerful. She moved in perfect tandem with her companions, they knew how to leave room for attacks, when to parry and duck. 

Rolan had to focus. Keeping Lorroakan from blocking or containing the Nightsong was no easy feat. He threw counter spell after counter spell, surprising himself every time his will overpowered his former master’s. The fire myrmidon sent a blaze of fire toward him — not enough to truly hurt him but it broke his focus. With a yell, he saw Tav fly to get in position and then call down a chain of lightning which stuttered the movements of the myrmidon and rained down on its allies. Even Lorroakan was hit. 

Finding an opening, Rolan deployed an onslaught of magic missiles which hit him in instant succession. Lorroakan fell to his knees in a daze. Behind them, he saw Gale finish off one of the myrmidon’s and Karlach made quick work of another. The Archdruid had taken the shape of a bear, claws shredding the armor of the third. Tav very nearly pushed him out of the way as another hail of fire fell on them, the smell of burning hair and flesh filling the room. She gave an angry yell, thunder boomed and the construct of fire hit the wall before turning to ash. 

Just as he was going to ask if she was okay, Lorroakan howled. They watched as the Nightsong lifted the famed master of Razamith’s Tower and snapped his spine in half over her armored knee. 

It was cathartic, and quite the relief when she tossed him onto the floor as if he were nothing. 

He watched as she left, wordlessly, in a haze of feathers and silver light. 

“Lorroakan is dead,” he said, in disbelief. “The Bastard is dead.” 

“Are you alright?” Tav asked. 

“I am, now that the bastard is in bits,” he smiled a little. “Lorrokan was a cruel and vicious man. By day, I’d tend the shop. By night, he’d fire the most nonsensical questions at me. And for every one I’d answered wrong he’d beat me.” 

Flashes of the nights spent in the tower flickered by, Lorrokan’s pale skin in his memories sometimes replaced by red skin and eyes that matched his own. He looked away from Tav’s intent stare. 

“I could have killed him with my own two hands,” he breathed, “but I kept thinking it was all a test. It had to be.” At her patient gaze, her friends, maybe their friends, standing by just as understanding he found himself unfurling. “I thought it was the price to pay to become a true wizard. I realize now he was just a sick, sick man.”

“I’m sorry, Rolan,” Tav said. “You were so looking forward to your apprenticeship.” 

“I see things clearly now,” he shook his head, “if I wish to master the weave, I must do it myself.” She didn’t look convinced. “Thankfully I have everything I need, right here.”

“More than everything,” Gale said. “You’ll make a fine wizard, Rolan.”

“Thank you.” 

“You should go to Lia and Cal. They’re worried sick, mate.” Karlach piped up. 

“I’ll move them in right away,” he assured her. “Lorroakan refused to let them stay here. They are gonna love the tower.” 

“I’m sure they will,” Tav smiled, but it was weak and somewhat forced. 

She was singed by the fire myrmidon. A few of her hairs were singed, she had ash on her face and an angry burn just below her chin. Tav had looked worse, he knew, but again he understood the gravity of what she had done for him. Even inadvertently.

Instead of anger, he felt deep gratitude and finally the means to pay her back. 

“I wouldn’t have all this — the tower, my family — if it weren’t for you.” At once Tav’s face shifted to something softer, the storm in her eyes quelled. “What can I do to thank you?”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she assured him. 

Before he could respond, Gale cleared his throat. “Certainly, Tav’s generosity is to be commended but,” he said, “we could make use in the way of supplies and… access to some of the rarer tomes.”

Tav winced slightly. “Supplies would be helpful,” she admitted. “And Gale has tunnel vision about a book that’s hidden in the tower.”

“I’d be happy to assist,” he nodded his head. “I’ve yet to journey into the vaults, we can figure them out together.”

“An excellent idea,” Gale nodded with a slight bow. “Perhaps we may also employ Astarion’s assistance, he’s the pilfering sort.”

“He may have stolen some material components when we were here last,” Tav seemed mortified but Karlach was cackling behind her. 

“You can have whatever you like,” Rolan said quickly. “Leave only the scrolls and tomes.”

“Thank you,” she breathed in relief. “We’ll — erm — let you settle in.”

“Before you go, know this,” Rolan quickly gathered his courage, “Ramazith’s tower and its master, are now your friends. And when the time comes, we will stand with you as allies.” 

“Enjoy your new digs!” Karlach called as they turned to leave. 

“We will be back soon,” Gale assured him.

Tav had nothing else to say to him as she left. 

It was a bit awkward as Tav, Gale, Astarion and Rolan ventured into the vaults. 

Rolan and Gale were getting along swimmingly, volleying knowledge and theories off of each other. Astarion hung back with Tav, unlocking doors as needed, but lingering behind the two wizards gushing over the hidden collection of Ramazith’s. The tiefling was rather charming, she found, when he was matched in wit and interest. Perhaps it was Gale’s own warm nature that brought it out of him, but regardless, Tav found herself watching the two of them interact so easily with an uncomfortable prickle under her skin.

She’d never been so annoyed at Gale before, not even when he nearly blew them all up in the name of forgiveness for his ex. He also thought he would be saving the world, but even so — the fact he even considered it worth mentioning had made her want to smack him. Now she just wished he’d shut up. 

“I think one wizard is more than enough,” Astarion said blithely. “You needn’t bring this one back to our rooms.”

“He has a big fancy tower now,” Tav replied. “Our suite at the Elfsong looks like a hovel in comparison.”

“Do you think they’d even notice if we left?” 

“Probably not.”

Astarion sighed dramatically. Tav felt his eyes slinking toward her. “Shall we take off without them?”

“That sounds like a terrible idea. I’m in.”

It was a terrible idea and they had quite a few burns to show for it. They had stumbled upon an armory, full to the brim with enchanted armors and weapons. Of course, the room had vaulted a fireball at them at Astarion’s initial failure to pick a magical lock. But a column of alabaster had saved them from being incinerated, only the immeasurable heat had gotten them. Tav was, as Gale had so diplomatically put it at the start of their journey, not studied in magic. She just was magic, always had been.

Her knowledge of the arcane only went so far beyond what she felt. She knew spells, knew the names of them, but she mostly just went with her gut at what to throw around and found its name later. When faced with a room full of enchanted objects, she only could pick them up to see what they did. Some of it came with tags that had details of the magical abilities they held, but at some point Lorroakan had taken to hoarding rather than cataloging. 

Tav slipped on a ring, basic in appearance, a simple gold band with writing engraved around its circumference and felt herself thrust into a state of unbeing. She could see Astarion, but around him was a whirl of  chaos. Energies of different colors collided and roared, in a cacophony that felt somehow familiar but overwhelming. Her hand reached out and a trail of lightning wrapped around her arm. She knew the tingling zap of it well, the rumble of thunder taking the place of her heart beat and the soft spray of rain. But it became too much, the sear of the lightning overtaking her and she wrenched the ring off. 

“Tav where the hells did you go?” Astarion asked.

“Did I go somewhere?” 

“You disappeared!” He said. “Is that a ring of invisibility?” 

“Definitely not,” Tav said, quickly taking off her vambraces where her skin still tingled. 

“Oh, my,” Astarion looked down at her arm. “Have you always had that?”

Her forearm was covered in white divuts that spidered out and glowed slightly. As if lightning lived there in her arms. It didn’t hurt, but it felt as if the remnants of a touch were electrically charged. Her and Astarion were still enraptured by the marks when the door flew open. 

“There you two are,” Gale said. “By Mystra’s eyelids, you can’t go wandering off in a highly guarded wizard’s tower!”

“By who’s eyelids, darling?”

Even without knowing all the details of their relationship, Tav could see the coldness in Astarion’s eyes and the flood of tension that took over the room. Gale looked as if he had fallen into a frozen lake. Something was transpiring between her friends and she felt as if she was not supposed to see it. 

“Look what we found!” Tav said  to Rolan who stood back with arms folded and looking unamused. “An armory!”

“Is that so?” 

She bounded up to him, if only to get away from the unspoken conversation happening between Gale and Astarion. 

“What happened to your arm?” 

“Oh, I don’t know.” 

Rolan leveled her with a look. 

“I put on this ring, and Astarion said I disappeared — “ Rolan’s eye actually twitched, so she barreled on before he could yell, “but I could see him it was just like I don’t know, everything around was just energy. And something reached out to grab my hand and it felt like my magic, like my own magic was holding my hand!” She was excited despite the unusual state of her arm. “And when I took it off I had this.” 

He grabbed her arm, fingers running over the divots and inspecting it. Turning it over, his nails dragged along the sensitive flesh of the inside and dragged over her palm. A pleasurable shudder rippled down her spine. 

“Did that hurt?”

“Uh,” she felt her brain zap, “no.” 

It felt very good. 

“They’re fading.” 

Now that she looked at it, the glow was siphoning away very slowly. “Huh.” 

Rolan brought her arm closer for him to inspect. His hands were incredibly warm. As he asked her questions about what she saw, she found herself answering almost dazedly. It was only after he seemed to have asked all the questions he could and was simply holding her arm in quiet contemplation that she realized he was rubbing his thumb along her skin. 

“Rolan,” she said quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

“Can I have my arm back?”

He dropped it as if it flooded him with an electric shock. “You seem fine. Please refrain from playing with magical artifacts you have no idea how to properly use.” 

“That’s no fun.”

His eye twitched again. 

“Erm,” she said, “did you find Karsus’ book?”

Rolan’s eyes slid over her shoulder, back where Astarion and Gale were. He motioned for her to follow him, and around the same pillar of stone which had saved her and Astarion,  he led her out of the room. 

“We found the book.” 

“Oh, good,” she said. “Gale says it’s integral for figuring out how to deal with the Elder Brain.”

“Yes,” Rolan said quietly. “What do you know of Karsus?”

“Only what Gale has told me,” she replied. “Fall of netheril, tried to become a god, - just the juicy stuff.”

“Then you know how it ended last time someone played with that kind of power.”

“I do.” 

“Gale is an immensely talented and knowledgeable wizard,” Rolan prefaced.

“Got a crush, do you?”

The tone of her voice was a little more pointed than she liked. An ugly thing inside of her scratching at her chest at his praise of Gale. Which was unreasonable. Gale was everything he said; Gale was one of her best friends. There was no reason for her to be acting this way. 

Rolan frowned. “I’m not trying to argue with you nor insult him, I’m only letting you know there was something about the way he talked about the crown, and the book. Please, keep an eye on him.”

Tav remembered how Gale had reacted to first seeing the crown, and then to the way he had near badgered her about finding the book. He had to correct himself when he talked about what the crown would do for him — the quick addition of for us that he added as an afterthought. 

Tav nodded. 

“I don’t mean to intrude,” he said. “You’ve helped my family a hundred times over. I owe it to you to do the same.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” She corrected. She hated how transactional it sounded. 

“Are you angry with me?” He asked, an edge to his voice that she knew spelled trouble. 

“Angry? No.”

Yes. No? She wasn’t sure. She almost wanted to pick a fight. It seemed to be the only time he ever gave her any mind. She didn’t know arcane history, couldn’t gush over magical theory with him — and he had never shown up for that bottle of wine. He only paid attention to her when he was upset with her. She wanted to needle at him, to make herself the focus of that blazing amber gaze even if he was snarling at her. 

Astarion was walking out of the room, jolting them out of the staring contest they were having. “Send him back when you’re done with him,” Astarion waved at Rolan. “He wants to identify some of those objects.” 

He walked off, an air of finality about his path. Something had happened. Her role of leadership reared its head, if there was dissent amongst the camp it was her job to temper it. 

“You have to go,” he said.

“Duty calls.” She sighed. “Thank you for the warning. We will drop by again, I’m sure.”

Rolan only nodded in reply and she set off. 

Rolan couldn’t figure out what he did wrong. He thought he had been better, had held his tongue when a particularly harsh remark inevitably wanted to make it out, he had called her a friend, given her party free reign of the tower. But Tav seemed distant. 

Only in crowds would she thaw. He’d been making his way to the Eflsong with Lia and Cal, under the guise of watching Alfira perform or to see Lakrissa. The team of heroes often joined them, sometimes looking worse for wear but never bringing whatever challenges they were facing with them. Tav talked when everyone was around, talked to him and was friendly enough. But they never had a moment alone.

 Even if they did he was not sure what he would say. Being the new owner of Ramazith’s was a full time endeavor; if he wasn’t experimenting he was busy trying to manage the shop. More and more people were turning up for protective measures against the string of events which threatened the city. Cal and Lia helped, happy to have a place to live and a job. It was becoming a rather fluid family business. 

But when the day slowed down or at night when laid in bed in Lorroakan’s reclaimed room, his mind drifted always to her. If he saw her at the bar that night he had committed to memory what she wore, any new cuts and bruises, and how the old ones were healing. His hand would drift under his trousers, gently massaging his length as it swelled with interest at the thought of her.

Every peak of cleavage where that damned pearl pendant dangled so teasingly where he wanted to kiss was seared into his mind. Each glance at her leaning over the bar to speak with Alan and order a round of drinks for everyone had him begging to grab at the swell of her bottom. Her eyes when she had stared Lorroakan down before she erupted in a flurry of magic. The calm before the storm of her wrath. How they would soften for her friends, and even him when she glanced over. 

Rolan would stroke himself to different imaginings of her. His gallant hero riding him, hands on his chest and glorious as she chased her pleasure. Or beneath him, soft and pliant for once, only for him. Teasing but humbled as he was a benevolent but stern authority, until she finally allowed him to experience the bliss of her submission. To let him take care of her for once.

He could even be the submissive, he thought despite never having considered it before, imagining cooing praise as he gave her whatever she wanted. Gods, he knew she would take him apart in ways he could never recreate with anyone else. He would trust her to hold her hand around his throat, to lovingly claw at his skin, to whisper words of adoration in contrast to the way she had control of his very breath in her grip.He would spill over into his own hand with visions of her eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. She was, so far unwittingly, boring her way into his mind the same way the illithids had done to her. 

But that very tadpole had kept her very busy. The trouble in Baldur’s Gate only grew more intense. Everyone had seen less of her crew as the days went on, only Alfira or Lakrissa getting glimpses of them racing to and fro at the inn day in and out. Everything was coming to a catalyst, he could feel it in the air. It was bad enough that his family had viewed Baldur’s Gate as a haven only to find it on the verge of chaos, now the very object of his desires was at the very center of it all. Storybooks often spoke about the plight of heroes, rarely did they touch upon the abject misery of the ones who loved them.

Watching them destroy their bodies, minds and hearts to be brave enough to save the day. Unable to do anything but offer mere pittances. And Tav wouldn’t even allow him to do that. 

In the midst of his musings on her one night as they closed the shop, a violent earthquake shook the city. They were more common these days but this one felt different, it lasted longer, the tremor nearly knocked potion bottles off the wall and the whole city seemed to freeze moments after it passed. 

“Do you think it’s them?” Cal had asked, breaking the terrified silence. 

“It always is.”

They had gone to the Elfsong after the shop was locked up. All agreeing that their friends might need them, even if just to buy them a drink. When he arrived, the place was packed. Voices loud as people theorized and panicked over drinks, not even Alfira’s songs could carry over the din. 

Their heroes were nowhere to be seen. 

They found Lakrissa, who was attempting to be a one woman crowd for Alfira. “Have they returned? Do they know what’s going on?”

Lakrissa looked grim. “We saw the Archdruid carrying someone small  — maybe a halfling or a gnome or something — up the stairs. They looked bad.”

Rolan felt his stomach plummet through the wood floor. 

“Tav came down to grab wine, Alfira said she was heading up to the roof when she came down to perform.” 

Rolan was turning for the stairs before Lakrissa finished the sentence. Something was off. He passed by the suite which he knew her party was in, voices were low but they were in there. He saw the open hatch and climbed up with a grunt.

The roof was not lit up, but the city lights allowed for a low glow that partially blotted out the stars. The crescent moon above was not much helpful but it was out clear as day. He spotted a figure, alone, slumped over at the far end of the roof. Even in the dark he knew it was her. 

He approached only to be met with her calling, in slurred together words, “‘ready told you, Karlach. I don’ wanna watch you arm wrestle Minsc.”

“They should sell tickets to that,” he said in response. “You’d all be rich.”

She turned around sharply. “S’ you.”

“It’s me,” he replied. “May I join you?”

“M’pissed, and miserable,” she slurred. “Not good,” she belched, “company.” 

It was oddly charming, despite her drooping eyes and the way she dryly licked her lips after. He was so used to her being a force of unflappable willpower and leadership, seeing her just be a person who gets piss drunk to drown her sorrows was novel. Rolan sat next to her, amongst a small nest of pillows and blankets Alfira and Lakrissa had put up there when they first got to the city. Tav looked out at the water. 

“I wanna go swimming.”

“I think the Chionthar is only slightly safer than a cursed lake,” he replied. “Best stay on land.”

“No fun.”

Despite her attempts at lightning the mood everything felt off. She leaned her chin on the stone wall that she sat in front of. The bottle in her hand precariously tipped. 

“I felt that quake earlier, your doing?”

“killed a Bhaalspawn.” She said plainly. “Stole a netherstone. Brain is getting restless.”

If anyone else had strung those words together it would have been utter nonsense. 

“Thats good, isn’t it? You ought to be celebrating.”

“No,” she shook her head slowly. “No celebrating.”

“What happened?”

“Bhaalspawn bitch took Yenna,” she sniffed. 

The little girl they had picked up in Rivington. Rolan had yet to meet her, but she had been their newest addition. Rolan recalled being horrified that they allowed a child in their camp, given their circumstances. He thought it might not be a good idea to bring that up, just then.

“Is she alright?”

“Physically? Sure.”

It was quiet again. He heard her breathing pick up, a wet swallow. 

“They made her eat her fucking cat.” She spat, voice cracking. “She’s ten years old. Lost her mother, and all she had was Grub. They took her from right under my nose. Killed the damn cat and made her eat it.” 

When he looked over he saw tears, his heart stuttering. Half unsure what to do in the face of such a horrifying thing to imagine and half desperate to hold her. 

“Everywhere I go,” she said distractedly, “there’s just blood and horror.” She pulled a long drink of wine from the bottle. “And everyone’s fucking lost it in this city. Gale wants to become a God, and we all know it’s just to get back at Mystra — they ought to call her the bitch queen — and just two days ago I had to talk Astarion out of  the right of ascension — 2000 people he was going to sacrifice!” She was ranting, hiccups and sobs breaking through every once in a while. “Karlach’s given up. Shadowheart’s parents — we looked for them and she  fought so hard and they’re just gone. Lae’zel wants me to make a deal with a devil, and poor Wyll,” she sniffled. “His dad — he — and Mizora that cunt! We have to find his dad.” She had her head in her hands. “There’s still one more netherstone, we have to get the hammer, then there’s the brain.”

“You need to breathe,” he reached out. 

“I’m not meant to do this!” She yelled suddenly. “I’m not — I’m supposed to take over my mum and dad’s stupid pub, I’m supposed to be at home, with my little sister and my mother.”

“Tav,” he tried to interrupt.”

“Instead I’m here, and I’ve got this thing in my head and they want time to lead them — and I don’t know why! I’m nothing — no one — I don’t know what to do —“

“Sweetheart, stop,” he pleaded, reaching out to her. “You’re alright.” 

“I’m not,” she choked. “I can’t, Rolan. I can’t do this.” 

“You can,” he said firmly. He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him, “you’re going to sleep this off, and tomorrow you will infuriate me by accomplishing the impossible — as you always do.” 

She was at least calming down, breathing coming easier even if fresh warm tears spilled out of her eyes onto his hands. His thumb gently wiped them away, careful of his nails. 

“You didn’t see what I saw out there in the cursed lands, or even in the tower. You may be an idiot but you’re a capable idiot. If anyone can save the city, it’s you and your freak show of friends.” 

She smiled, a soft laugh nothing more than a breath escaping her lips. Rolan had a sinking feeling he was in over his head, with the way she still looked so lovely to him; face puffy, drunk and still covered in gore he thought she was the most beautiful person in the world. His thumb gently rubbed the skin of her cheek, and she closed her eyes, seeming to have rid herself of all the tears she could and now seeming calmer. 

They sat like that for a while. She breathed and came back to herself, he contemplated how awful he had been to her before. Tav was larger than life, but even she was only flesh and blood. The weight on her shoulders was more than he could even imagine. He’d never been more sure about his decision to offer his help when the time came, anything to lighten her load. 

 For a moment he thought she might have passed out until she spoke. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” 

Rolan felt struck by lightning by the change of subject. “You — do you want me to kiss you?”

Tav opened her eyes, albeit somewhat blearily she smiled mischievously. “Don’t be dumb,” she said, “you know I do.”

“I do not know that,” he said defensively. 

“Well now you do,” she leaned forward, her hands still curled into his robes. Her eyes slid shut again and Rolan tilted his head and leaned in, unable to resist the magnetic force that she seemed to emanate as their lips came closer. 

Her breath smelt so strongly of wine, he suddenly outstretched his arms to keep her at a safe distance. “You’re drunk,” he scolded. Whether it was her or himself he was scolding, was unclear. 

“Yes.” She nodded and then seemed to get dizzy from the motion

“We should get you to bed.” 

“Oh?”

“Stop it,” he tried not to laugh, but it didn’t work. “You’re going to bed to sleep.” 

“That isn’t fun.” 

“I’m not fun,” he reminded her. “I’m a prick with a stick up my arse, as my sister so kindly put it.” 

“Sorry, Rolan,” Tav said seriously, “wasn’t paying attention. Whose prick is going in whose arse? Because m’not equipped — I guess we could buy one but at this hour?“

“Bed!” Rolan said immediately. 

“No,” she whined, “I’m sleeping up here.”

“You are not.”

“I am,” she said, draining the last of her bottle only to have it yanked away from her. “You can’t carry me down the ladder.”

It was said petulantly, with a singsong voice and a cackle of laughter afterwards, but she was right. Rolan grabbed at the pillows and blankets Alfira had snuck up and threw together a makeshift bed. He  shoved at her shoulder until she laid back and she sighed happily, turning onto her side. 

“I like when we get along.” She said in a quiet voice.

“Me too.” 

After a while he laid on the ground. His feet faced her head and there was a safe amount of distance, in case anyone found them. He didn’t need her friends getting the wrong idea if they found them, he was already sure Astarion wanted to kill him. 

He felt something pulling at one of his horns and his eyes slid open. Tav was over him, trying to lift his head. 

“What are you doing?”

“Pillow,” she said plainly. “Head up.” 

He allowed her to place one under his head, and then rested back. When she laid back down, her fingers brushed against him. Barely noticeable, only The back of her knuckles pressed against his. He curled one finger around hers and she did the same. As he looked down, even in the darkness her arms still had marks from whatever had happened when she put on that ring in the tower. 

After a few days with no other side effects, they had all assumed it had been some kind of magic attachment that hadn’t taken full hold. The lines were thin, barely there, but he considered what it could have been. After all the work that had to be done at the shop, it had slipped his mind to research it. At least now he had something to do to keep his mind off of her running to infiltrate the new archduke’s home and murder him. 

“Why didn’t you come?” Her voice interrupted his thoughts. 

“What do you mean?”

“Gale wanted to teach you,” she mumbled, “and I… have that bottle for you.” 

Things had happened so fast, getting Cal and Lia settled, being thrust into owning not just a massive home but a very popular magical goods shop had made him forget that night entirely. He had made it all the way to the door of the Elfsong, skin still stinging from Lorroakan’s ‘training’ just the hour before. 

“I got as far as the front door,” he said, “and turned around.” 

“Why?”

“I was… overwhelmed.” 

“Oh.” 

He said nothing in response and after a few moments he heard her start to snore. With a sigh he settled in and closed his eyes. The stone roof was a poor substitute for his new large, exceedingly comfortable bed in the tower. Leaving her side seemed far from worth it to sleep in his own bed, even if she did snore.

Thank you so much for reading!

Next Chapter

[quinloki]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 13

Today's a tricky treat, and a little... Crowded.

Character: Killer, Heat, Wire (ft. Eustass Kid) Reader: cis!fem Warnings: (deep breath) Swearing, bondage, dirty talk, breeding, pet names, impact play, over-stimulation, cum play, group sex, forced voyeurism, oral received, oral given, fingering, foot fetish for a second, begging, cock-ring... I think that's it.

Summary: You're on your favorite breeding bench, the one Kid built just for you* (*for everyone, he asserts, but it was for you, let's be clear). However, Kid's been benched in a different way - he's not allowed to touch you right now.

That's Killer, Wire, and Heat's job. -:- 2809 words

Benched Pt. 1

You were on “the bench” that Kid had made for you, on your back, secured in place. You could crane your head a little and see Kid behind you, close enough you could almost set your head in his lap if the bench wasn’t supporting it already.

He’s not exactly happy right now. Leather straps and a very thick oak chair was keeping him, and his hand, exactly where Heat, Killer, and Wire wanted him. Which was just out of reach of you. Kid’s job tonight was to watch, but he was bad at watching, having stepped in the last time you and the big four had decided to have a night together.

Trying to define relationships on the Victoria was difficult. Everyone understood what was going on – who was with who, and how – but defining any of it was awkward at best, and no one’s business in the end. You and Kid were together in the sense of the word, but so were Kid and Killer.

You and Killer were known to keep each other company sometimes too, and Heat and Wire had helped you get cleaned up a few times. They were with each other and with Kid and Killer, and that wasn’t even touching on the rest of the crew and all the limbs that tangled together on any given night.

Sex felt good – or should feel good at least – and what constitutes “good” was up for debate too. In the end, consent was king on the crew, even more than Eustass Kid.

Heat, Wire and Killer were stripping while they ran their hands over your body. Thick, heavy, calloused hands slipped over your skin like silk sometimes, and like coarse hemp other times. There wasn’t much talking, Kid was gagged for starters, and everyone else was listening to you.

Soft, gasping moans escaped your lips, and your body writhed in its binds. They weren’t touching you anywhere overly sensitive, but the bench was built to breed you. Sure, Kid could say anyone could have a turn on it, and people had, it was very adjustable.

But it was built for you, and you certainly spent the most amount of time strapped to it. Face up or down, it was comfortable either way. Of course, once things started it probably could’ve been made out of spikes and you wouldn’t have given a shit.

Killer moved to be between your legs, Heat was at your side, and Wire was knelt down by your head. The largest of everyone in the room, he gave you a few small kisses, lips against your neck and cheek before he leaves a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. He’s looking down at you as you feel Killer’s hands against the insides of your thighs. You gasp a little, bucking against the immovable bench, and Wire grabs your hair, turning your head toward Eustass.

“We all know the Captain’s gonna wanna see your face, pet.” Wire says, and Kid’s amber gold gaze shifts from watching Killer to looking into your eyes.

“L-Look at me, please,” you beg even though he already is. “I love it when you watch me, Kid.”

“She’s certainly not lyin’,” Killer muses, and you can feel the heat of his words against your thighs. “She’s soaked, and we’ve barely touched her.” Killer looks to Heat and Wire. “You two ready?”

They mutter and nod, and Wire leans in and whispers into your ear. “Keep your eyes on the cap’n lil’ pet, and we’ll reward you well.”

“Yeah.” You keep your gaze turned up toward Kid. He returns your gaze for a moment, but then his eyes shift to the others. There’s a quiet tension and Kid looks back to you just before you’re overloaded.

Two of Killer’s fingers plunge into your pussy, and his tongue goes to work on your clit. Heat and Wire have a hold of your breasts and are licking and nipping at your nipples. They all moved at the same time, there was no gentle build up to it, just a flood of pleasure after a moment of nothing, and your face twists in surprise and pleasure as your body bucks against everything holding it in place.

Your wrists twist in the cuffs holding your arms down against the sides of the bench. Heat and Wire pin your elbows so you don’t twist anything, and Killer has your legs held open. There’s no escape from the rush of pleasure, and your eyes water as you gasp for air between cries of pleasure, trying to keep your gaze turned toward Kid.

Kid’s nostrils were flared, his face was tinged pink and you could swear that you could hear the leather straps groaning as his body flexed against what held him. He wasn’t saying anything, he wasn’t even growling or grumbling from behind the gag. You were suddenly certain he was bound to that chair because he’d accepted it, not because he was truly held.

“Kuh-Kid!” You manage to gasp, spurred on by his reaction. “L-Look, I’m gonna – fuck – I’m gonna cum, so wah-watch me! I’mma – they’re maaaa-aking me cum, Kid!” You gasp as your body tenses, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.

Your cunt clenches down on Killer’s fingers, and you feel him force a third inside you mid-orgasm. Your body bucks again and you throw your head back and practically growl. You don’t move much, with the three of them holding you against the bench, but without the help of the bench, the three of them might not have been enough to hold you in place.

The three of them slowly stop stimulating you, chuckling a little at the last few twitches as you come down from your high.

Three sets of hands start to wander over your body, massaging muscles, caressing your skin. They tease you a little, but nothing like the coordinated attack earlier. You shift, rolling your body and humming contentedly. Rough as things could get, these moments always happened.

“So, captain,” Killer begins, and you see Kid’s eyes shift from you to Killer. You keep your eyes on Kid – he’s rock hard, and even though you can’t reach him it’s still hot to see him in that state. No one’s touched him since they restrained him, and you’re glad that on some level he is enjoying the show.

“Was she good?”

Kid’s eyes shift and the heat you see there nearly sets your body on fire. He looks back over to Killer and nods once.

You start to say thank you to Kid, but you can hear Killer’s hand cutting through the air just before he slaps your pussy hard enough to fill the air with a loud CRACK! The impact shudders through your body, the initial pain catches your breath, and the sting that follows crackles like electricity against your clit. The combination nearly clenches your body into a second orgasm, whimpering as you shift under the hands on you, looking away from Kid to pout at Killer.

Heat caresses the side of your face before slapping your cheek softly. “Gonna try and say you don’t like that, brat?” He prompts and you feel the blood rush through you before you shake your head.

Killer begins to rub his thick cock against your stinging, soaking, twitching slit. “If you’d been bad you’da cum from getting your pretty pussy slapped,” he says, voice heavy and husky. You can just barely see his eyes shift, from his cock to your eyes, through the mess of bangs. “But since you were good, you can get bred properly, little one.”

Your hips rolled involuntarily, and you see Killer smile.

He lines himself up, pushing his rock-hard cock into your soaking cunt. “And if the Captain behaves himself, he can fuck you senseless once we’re done filling you up.” He muses, rolling his thumb against your clit as he pushes in slowly.

Your toes curl at the slow and steady stretch. Heat and Wire were peppering your skin with kisses, taking turns nipping at the more sensitive parts of your body as Killer settled into a steady pace. Sometimes they would kiss you sweetly, and other times they would nearly choke you on their tongues as they twisted your nipples or left bite marks somewhere.

Every now and then someone would ask you where you were and you’d mutter green, or safe, or something else similar in your hazy daze, and things would continue.

Killer’s pace began to pick up and Heat and Wire became more tender and consistent in their actions, causing your breath to come out in hot, desperate gasps, as the pleasure built up in you once more. You trembled as your body tightened again.

Killer hissed, gripping your hips a little roughly, and slammed his hips into your thighs a few times. You could feel him twitching as he filled you up, and the look on his face as he came was enough to push you over with him.

The way his eyes rolled back a little, and how his jaw went slack when he came was adorable. He swore as you came, nearly lurching forward as he tried to keep thrusting his sensitive member enough to ride you through your own pleasure. When he pulled out of you his fingers flexed against your thighs before he took a step back.

He traded places with Heat who was already stroking himself before he settled in between your thighs. Your breath was falling off your lips, heavy and full of heat, your sensitive body twitched when you felt Heat’s cock just barely touch you.

“Twitchy lil’ brat,” Heat muses, spreading your pussy open with his thumbs before pushing into you all the way in one smooth motion. You cry out in delight, and a sigh of pleasure leaves him as he starts to thrust into you. “Fuck you’re so wet, just twitching against me like that.”

You couldn’t say anything as Wire had turned you to face him, urging you to lick and suck his cock while he waited for his turn. As you worked you felt Killer’s wet length push against your palm. He’d worked himself back into a frenzy after making sure you got through your orgasm, and was letting you help him deal with it.

Bound to the bench you didn’t have to worry about twisting or turning to assist everyone in the group, the guys adjusted to your position first and foremost. All you had to do was oblige – or decide not to, if you really didn’t want to. Pleasure was to be shared, but it was pointless to run yourself ragged if you couldn’t keep up.

A good year on this ship, however, and most of it tangled up with these behemoths, had given you much better stamina and strength. Though you were starting to think it was making you more lewd? Needy? You weren’t sure what the right word was, but you felt hungrier every time you spent time on the bench.

“Ha, haaa, you’re not close brat.” Heat gasps, thrusting into you roughly and nearly pushing the air out of you. “But I am.” His face flushes as his rhythm gets erratic. “So take – hells  – what I give you.”

Flames licked Heat’s lips as he gasped and shuddered from pleasure, emptying himself inside you. He shifted a few more times, fingers flexing into your hips, nearly growling as though he wanted to go on a little longer before he finally pulled out.

“Listening to her earlier got me more worked up than I thought.” He huffs, stepping back and sitting on a chair for a minute to gather himself. You hear a muffled grunt, and realize Kid’s made his first sound.

Wire laughs curtly in response, and you hear Heat swear. “Stuff it, captain.” He says in aggravation as Wire takes up position between your legs. He adjusts the bench, raising your hips up. He doesn’t move the head rest, though it adjusts a little on it’s own, but it’s easier for you to look at Kid now than it is for you to watch Wire with your hips raised up like they are.

Kid’s face is flushed, but he’s not pulling against the leather straps as much as he was at the beginning.

Wire rubs the tip of his dick against your slit and you gasp a little.

“How’re you holding up, little one?” Killer asks, his voice breathy as he stroking himself now that you’re at a different angle.

You nod. “Good… I’m good.” You assure him just before Wire’s thick cock pushes into you. He easily bottom’s out, being almost too big. You rather him in your ass, if you have a choice, since he takes such care to prep and stretch you. You can feel the mix of your pleasure and Killer and Heat’s excess leak out as you’re over-filled by Wire.

You hiss as he bottoms out a little too deep, and he pulls back a bit. “Sorry, lil’ pet.” He says absently, and you see him put something in place. It’s effectively a cock ring that Kid worked on, but it doesn’t really put any pressure on Wire, it just acts as a buffer, keeping him from going too deep too fast.

It’s squishy, so it doesn’t hurt either one of you.

You swear, every slow, long thrust just squishes more out of you, and it feels cold compared to everything else. Wire leans into you a little, reaching down and playing with your tits, his hands engulfing your chest.

Everyone on the crew, with a scant few exceptions, is bigger than you. Kid has the biggest presence of the whole crew, but Wire is certainly the tallest.

The steady pace makes pleasure coil inside you again, Wire’s tender teasing of your nipples is heating up your entire body. You can feel the blood rushing to your face but it might be because you’re tilted a little more head down than level.

Your breath comes out heavier as Wire takes his time. Your eyes fall easier onto Kid, whose body is tensing against the leather straps again, his fingers flexing and cock twitching. You want it in your mouth at the least, buried in your cunt at the most, but it’s not as though anyone else has been mistreating you so far. It’s not as though anyone else falls short of a delightful experience.

Kid just fits you a little better.

“Fuck, I know it’s all supposed to go in you, little one,” Killer huffs as you pull your eyes from Kid and watch the first mate. “But I’m not waiting for Wire at this rate.” He puts his thighs against the side of the bench. Wire snatches his hands back just in time before Killer cums all over your tits.

“That’s fuckin’ hot.” Wire muses, smearing Killer’s load around, teasing your nipples with the slippery fluid. It changes the way it feels, and you squeak in surprise before it turns into a pleasurable moan.

“Haa, I’m guh-gonna,” your words turn into an unintelligible moan, your body arcing against the binds and the bench. Wire grinds into you, keeping you in place and moving one hand to your clit, as Killer takes over teasing your nipple.

You feel something warm and wet against your foot, and look around enough to see Heat finishing himself off against your foot. Being used and teased and filled and desired swirled around in your body. It was all a turn on, and it was more than you could take right now, especially after everything that had led up to this.

Your fingers clench, and your toes curl, one foot forced back and flat as Heat finishes on your foot while you cum against Wire’s cock. Wire stops grinding against you, thrusting faster, pushing your orgasm into something almost painful it’s so over-stimulating, before he finally empties himself into your throbbing, over-stuffed cunt.

Wire pulls out, and with your body tilted the way it is, you don’t feel anything leak until he starts to lower the breeding bench. Killer looks into your eyes, mouthing to ask if you’re okay and you nod. You’re in a hazy state, but you don’t feel bad. He brushes sweaty hair away from your face before leaning down and kissing your forehead.

“Well, Captain, look at you.” Killer muses, as Heat and Wire check in on you a little more, kissing you softly and making sure they don’t need to release you just yet.

“Stayed right where you were suppose to the whole time.” Killer grins crossing his arms. It’s not often he gets to give Kid hell, so he savors the moments when they arrive. “There ain’t much sense left in her,” he starts, undoing the gag in Kid’s mouth. “But she’s all yours, Kid.”

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 27: A Greater Woman Wouldn't Beg

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: You fight for your life as the paramedics take you to the hospital. The first time, you wake up without Michael but in the presence of your best friend. The second time, Sarah has accepted defeat.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of injury, blood, mentions of violence, medical setting, flashback, descriptions of child abuse & abuse in general, fight or flight response, trauma triggers

Word Count: 5.5k

A/n: I was hoping to get this done sooner, but then I got sick and swamped by uni work, so I only now got it done. The next chapter will be Michael's POV of this. I wanted to make that a separate part, so I focused on Reader's POV for this one, and then you guys will figure out what Michael was really up when he didn't pick up.

Your hands are wet. Slippery. They smell like citrus and rosemary, a mixture of scents you have never quite enjoyed. Why would your blood smell like chicken seasoning, anyway? And why would it foam clearly in your hands, almost as though it was mostly water?

You look up with your eyebrows furrowed. The walls are anything but dark. Ivory wallpaper without accents; you swore you would never paint the walls of your home the same color. It is utterly tryst and boring for a house that has harbored many horrors in your lifetime. 

You’re standing before the sink, the dishes running through your hands like quicksand. And they’re so much smaller. Bruises litter your skin like a mosaic masterpiece. Purple and blue blend into green, which doesn’t make any sense; blue and green should not make purple, but the skin is somehow wired that way. 

All you remember is the creaking of your floorboards, Dublin eerily quiet outside as your heart beat up to your throat, and then the light went out and someone—a stranger who had not anticipated your arrival—attacked you. The shards from your favorite vase were a weapon of opportunity. It felt like someone was draining the air from your lungs with a rough cut. He sliced you open without a care. You tried calling Michael and screaming for him, but it was all a gurgle. And then, you remember, the world went dark.

The streets of London’s suburbs are quiet. You’re not supposed to be here. 

“This is wrong,” you murmur. “This is all wrong.”

Maybe you died and went to hell? Looking down at yourself, you don’t find any evidence of blood. Your skin remains undisturbed. The radio is playing an early 2000s ballad. You don’t remember hearing it in a while. A chill runs down your spine. 

The volume is just loud enough to tune out the screaming from the room across the hall. The snapping of leather that cuts through the air like a lightning bolt and does not care about the sound barrier has always been so deafening. Your bruises sting when you listen closely, and the music moves into the background as it had too many times back then. You could still hear everything. Every cry for help, every one of his disgusting words against her because she never did the dishes right. 

You should be washing the, going over it a million times until you can see your reflection in the porcelain, or you will be next. It’s then that the screaming stops. Your pulse spikes. The air in your lungs gets trapped by a thin rubber band. It’s straining, and your heart feels like it’s bleeding out. You can’t breathe. 

He calls your name. Your hands are still wet. Slippery. You can’t turn to the sink fast enough. 

Ever since you can remember, you have been looking for someone to blame other than yourself for the way he treated you. Your mother never even tried to protect you when he laid his hands on you, but you would hear her cries every night when he let whatever frustrations he had left out on her. Maya and Ellie were never planned, and it makes you sick to your stomach to think about it. There is a certain amount of guilt that comes with blaming someone who can’t be blamed because she, too, is only a victim. But she has never felt like a mother to you, to begin with; she has always resented you because, in a way, you will always remind her of him. She’s so deep in it, you could never pull her out. And maybe that is why, in your mind, you blame her for all the times he hurt you and she wasn’t there. But it wasn’t her fault.

Part of you wonders if she would be able to get better once he’s gone, but she has always refused to believe in him as the devil. Stockholm syndrome. He looks so innocent, but he holds a power your mother’s fragile mind has never been able to withstand, and unless she wants to leave him, you won’t be able to help her. 

But oh, it is so easy to blame someone other than your father—to blame everyone around you who only stood by and watched and continues to trust him blindly even now. 

You were never good enough because you dared to disagree, never living up to expectations. Maya hit the spot better than you ever could, and Ellie was just collateral damage. God, your heart burns. Everything about you is on fire. It has always been a game to him. If he can’t control and manipulate someone else, he will fall apart. And in trying to break the cycle, you inevitably put a target on everyone else’s back. 

The echo of the belt whipping through the air is forever tattooed on your brain. He calls your name from the hallway, and the floorboards creak like they did in your apartment. His steps are heavy, always landing with the back first to make the most noise. And he’s wearing those steel boots again he was issued for work. They hurt the most when they fracture your ribs. 

You grab the plate just as his face appears in the doorway. He’s distorted. Your mind refuses to let him in, knowing it will break you. The pictures caught him so clearly, but nothing does your memory justice. The way he used to look at you, as though he was dead inside. 

Your hands are so slippery though. The porcelain falls, and before you can catch it, it shatters. The pain tears through your side. Your lungs are sucking in air, but it isn’t to sustain them; they are falling apart. 

The soap turns crimson. Black holes start to dance in your vision. The air gets trapped in your skin, and soon enough, you’re falling again, through the wood and into the atmosphere. 

“She’s comin’ back,” a strange voice sounds through the endless void. 

You blink your eyes open against the harsh light trying to blind you. Blue and yellow and white. Hell looks a lot different than you expected. It doesn’t hurt though, it’s just heavy. A cloud settles over you, and this constant obnoxious beeping next to your ear pulls you out of the thick syrup you landed in. 

The smell of antiseptic fills your nose next, harsh and unforgiving. It’s not citrus and rosemary. You can’t hear his voice anymore, but you didn’t dry your hands. They’re still wet, not slippery but sticky now. And they’re so heavy, you can’t move them. The world around you morphs into a pit of oil instead. 

You try to move again, but your limbs feel like they’re encased in cement. Something is covering your face. Plastic. So much oxygen in your lungs, and they keep burning. Why is no one helping you? You’re breathing, and the air is so clear you might go into shock because no human is supposed to breathe air this clean, right? You don’t understand, and you don’t remember... 

“Easy, easy,” the same voice says softly. You can’t make out her face. “You gave us quite a scare. Your lung collapsed, but you’re gonna be okay.”

You try to lift the mask from your face, but a gentle hand stops you. “You’ve gotta keep that on, dear,” she tells you. And then the light gets brighter as she shines it directly into your eyes. “It’s best if you don’t try to talk. We’re almost at the hospital. Can you give me a nod yes if you remember what happened to ya?”

It’s your responsibility, you think. You try to nod your head, but it’s so heavy. 

“Alright, good girl. Do you remember your name?”

Again, you nod. 

“That’s good. Perfect. Pupils equal and reactive. Breath sounds equal. And the patient is responsive,” she says toward you, but you know it’s not directed at you. Right now, she’s just a blotch of light in a world full of darkness.

You still lift the mask from your mouth because if you’re responsive, you have to respond. “Mi—” you cut yourself off. Your tongue hurts. He didn’t pick up when you called. Why do you want to say his name when he seems to be done with you? 

Your lung collapsed and the first person you think of is him, but you don’t seem to be on his mind. And you can’t count on him. Not right now. Maybe not ever again, but that isn’t his fault. You walked out. If you die, at least he can’t blame himself. Or is it more of a question of when?

“Sarah,” you slur instead. Whatever pain medication they gave you, it’s working wonderfully; you’re as high as a kite. 

The strange voice asks, “Sarah?” 

She must think you’re not as lucid as she suspected. You shake your head, or maybe you’re nodding. “Call… Sarah,” you finally manage to say. And two words are better than none. 

“Sarah,” the paramedic repeats, nodding as if to assure you she understands. You can see the halo moving. “Okay. We’ll call Sarah for ya. Just try to relax.”

You let the mask fall back into place, too exhausted to protest further. They’re calling Sarah. Because you don’t have anyone else. A pain spreads through your chest, but it is nowhere physical. It spreads through your soul like wildfire, and even through the fog, you can feel the tear slipping from your eye and down your cheek. The salt burns in the cut on your lip. 

The angel is right there with you. As your vision becomes clearer, your body seems to thaw. You grunt. “Looks like you’re in pain,” she says. “I’ll give two more milligrams of morphine.”

Morphine. That’s what it is. Before the pain in your side can come back with a vengeance, it is stopped by the delicious liquid she administers to your infusion. The world grows instantly fuzzier again. 

The ambulance rocks gently as it speeds towards the hospital, at least that is where you are starting to suspect you are, and the world outside the windows blurs into streaks of light. Hypnotizing streaks of light. Your eyes roll back into your skull. 

The darkness engulfs you. You’re floating in a black sea full of nothing. The tide carries you for miles and miles and then some. You flail around helplessly until you eventually decide to give up. It’s of no use anyway. You float for a while, carried for an eternity more until the rushing of the ocean turns into the unmistakable sound of your own heart. 

The first real thing you feel is a dull ache in your skull. Your nerve endings are desperately tearing at each other. The beeping gets louder, accompanied by a throbbing in your ribcage. It’s not your heart; the pain tears through your skin and the muscles below, and every time you try to take a conscious breath, you’re inhaling toxic smoke. 

You open your eyes. The light is less bright here. It’s blurry, at first, but the world slowly comes to life again. You’re sore all over, but as far as you can tell, you’re alive and no longer high on opioids. How long have you been out? It must have been hours.

And then it hits you again—what happened. The intruder, the missing file, the broken vase, and his hands all over you. Your neck still aches. You can feel his fingers trying to squeeze the life out of you, but you wouldn’t budge. You remember contemplating how to take your life when you were just a child, but tonight, you chose to fight back. And it landed you here. 

You have been in worse pain. The feeling of waking up alone has therefore become more than familiar over the years. Just you and the beeping monitors. You wonder if they can show a broken heart. 

Lifting your tired arm, you reach for the cannulas in your nose. You can breathe fine; you don’t need them. You don’t even need to be here. 

“Hey, don’t…” The blur turns into a person. You can’t quite believe your eyes.

Sarah crosses the room and stops your eager fingers in their tracks, and upon looking at her worry-stricken face you realize that you did not just wake up alone; they called her, after all. Like you asked them to. And you’re not alone. 

The monitor picks up speed. “Sarah,” you whisper. 

“It’s me,” she says. “You’re okay. You’re at the hospital, but you’re okay.” From the sound of her voice, you can tell she’s been crying. Sarah never cries.

You smack your lips. “Uh, what… what happened?”

You know what happened, but you can’t see it. You can’t close your eyes and pull up a visual of the events because every time you do, you see nothing but darkness. Your memory isn’t working the way it should—nothing is. 

She wipes her cheeks. Vulnerability seeps out of her pores like body odor. The pity in her eyes turns into knives to your chest. “Someone broke into your flat and… they attacked you,” she says. Her voice still has a certain edge to it. “Your lung collapsed, but they managed to put a needle in there and now you’re all better. You didn’t even need surgery, just a blood transfusion. I actually donated while I was waiting ‘cause it was killin’ me that it took them so long to fix you up.”

The needle would explain the pain in your lungs. You reach for her hand.

“When they called, I thought… God, I thought you were dead. I was so worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

“What were you thinking?” There it is, the anger. “You should’ve called the police.”

“I know, but I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking.”

Sarah raises her voice, “I almost lost you tonight!” 

The echo drills into your ears. You flinch. The guilt hadn’t already been eating you alive, it certainly would start now. The burning behind your eyes returns, and this time, you don’t stand a chance. You try to blink them away, but it’s futile. 

“I know, and I’m… I didn’t mean to do this to you.” You swallow. 

“Does this have anything to do with Michael? Did he get you into this? ‘Cause if he did, I’m gonna kill that bastard.”

“No!” You try to sit up, but the sudden movement tears at the stitches in your side. Every nerve under your skin protests. You stretch, and it burns. With a grunt, you fall back against the mattress. “No,” you repeat. “He didn’t…” 

This is what you were worried about. It crossed your mind before it happened that the person in your apartment might have been hired by the Kinsellas to steal the valuable information you collected; it was the only thing you had to fuel your agenda, and someone took it. You didn’t tell anyone but Michael, so it would make sense that his family had something to do with it, but after talking to Jimmy, you seriously doubt it. You almost died. If they wanted you dead, you would be dead. It’s a terrifyingly sober thought, but it’s the truth. 

But if the Kinsellas aren’t behind it, someone else must have found out. Someone from your past, perhaps. And how do you tell the police that someone broke into your apartment not to steal money but to steal a mere paper file?

Sarah sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. “The police are going to want to talk to you,” she says, expertly changing the subject. “They said nothing seems to have been stolen, but they need your confirmation, and they’re hoping you can identify the man who did this to you.”

Again, you shake your head. “I didn’t see his face,” you admit.

“I figured, but I think they need to know who you’ve been associating yourself with.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Who I’ve been–” you grunt again when you move against the clear protest of your wound. “Who’s side are you on?” you ask her. 

She looks so guilty, afraid to even meet your eyes. 

“Michael’s family has nothing to do with this. Don’t ask me how I know, I just… I just know.”

“Then where is he, huh?” Her voice takes on a slightly accusatory tone. You’re not sure if it’s directed at you or Michael, but you’re not in the mood to have this conversation. 

You shake your head. The lump in your throat is stuck. You can’t speak. 

Sarah utters your name, but it only sets fire to the gasoline. “You almost died and Michael isn’t here,” she says. “Who knows, maybe it was him? You can’t know if you didn’t see his face! I mean, why are you protecting him and his family when he couldn’t even be bothered to be here?”

It hurts to hear her say that. It hurts to even imagine that scenario to be true. You know it isn’t, but she believes it, and that breaks your already shattered heart beyond repair.

“I’m not,” you choke out. “He has nothing to do with this. I…” You find yourself unable to speak, too caught up in the pain that spreads through your body and your soul. 

You can see his face when you close your eyes, and God, you miss him. 

“Then where is he?” she asks again. It’s almost as though she believes she has the whole thing figured out just because she was so worried about you. But she doesn’t. 

You grit your teeth. A tear makes its salty path south. “We broke up!” you snap, your voice echoing across the room like a sharp arrow penetrating the sound barrier. “We had a fight and then I left, and that’s probably why he didn’t pick up because he was just as hurt as me, but–” You have to cut yourself off to catch a strangled breath. Your lungs barely have the same capacity they had before. 

Sarah’s jaw slacks at the revelation. The words take a second to sink in, but when they do, it dawns on her like a gigantic shadow. Instead of an ‘I told you so’, she exhales shakily, “Oh.” Nothing else seems to come to her mind at that moment. 

Your heart drums against your ribcage. You inhale, sitting further up to ease the pressure on your wound and calm your racing pulse that is starting to upset the monitor beside your bed. 

Another pained groan passes your lips. “My gut is telling me his family isn’t behind this because whoever broke into my apartment was an idiot, and the Kinsellas are not,” you tell her. “You want to blame Michael for not being here? Fine! But he would never hurt me. Don’t… don’t say that.”

You begin to see it again; the blood on the dark floorboards transferring to your phone as you tried to dial his number with the last of your strength, but he didn’t pick up. He was the only person you could think of when you thought you were going to die, and he wasn’t there. He didn’t even come.

Finally, the lump lodges free in a devastating sob, landing like a burning meteor from the depth of your chest. 

Sarah wraps her arm around your shaking shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

You don’t fight it; you bury your face in her chest, clinging to her instead of letting go. Pieces of drywall start coming off the borders around your heart. The sobs wreck your body with an intensity that could match the force of a landmine. 

When you woke up, you were hoping, even if just for a second, Michael would be there to hold your hand. You would have given up your belief that the two of you were meant to be dysfunctional for a taste of the comfort you know only he can provide you. But it’s all just a fever dream, and he isn’t here.

You beg yourself to breathe through the inferno spreading from your wound to the remaining space of your chest cavity. This pain can’t easily be fixed by morphine or a high flow of oxygen. It’s a deep-rooted and emotional pain; everything around you becomes secondary. 

The sobs wrack your body, but you can’t stop. You can't fight back against the avalanche heading for your town. You’ve lost everything. Trying to keep your head above water only pulled you further under. You can still feel the stranger's hands on your body, the sound of porcelain crashing to the floor. You were trying to steer off the inevitable like a fool, and in the process, you have made things a million times worse. Admitting defeat would lead to the demise of what you love, but what else can you do when the danger is no longer trying to hide, lying in wait?

The door swings open. A nurse steps in, and her eyes widen at the sight. “Heart rate and pulse ox are climbing,” you faintly hear her say. “She’s having a panic attack.”

You want to protest. You’re okay; you’re just crying, and they should take care of the ticking bomb next to your ear first. It beeps and beeps and beeps even louder. It takes you forever to notice that the bomb you’re hearing is actually your heart about to explode. 

“Well, do something!” Sarah shrieks, her chest shaking under you. “She’s going to hurt herself.”

Someone calls your name, and they tell you something about a sedative, but your ears are under a thick stream of water. The sterile walls start to close in around you. You can feel your heart racing in your throat like you’re going to throw it up on a silver platter and everyone will see how damaged you truly are.

You thrash weakly, your lips moving without your mind’s approval. “No,” you sob. You don't want them to sedate you. “Please…” Your pleas meet an empty void. 

The nurse swiftly prepares a syringe that, out of the corner of your eye looks almost like a loaded gun. You don't want to sleep. You can’t. You deserve this. “This will help you relax,” she says. “Just breathe, okay? We don't want your lung collapsing again.”

The needle doesn’t pierce your skin, but it might as well have. A sudden cool rush spreads through your veins. The world blurs at the edges, colors bleeding into each other until they turn black. Your sobs slow down. You try to scream, but every muscle in your body slacks against your will. The clock stops ticking. The wave catches up to you as you’re swimming away, and with jaws made of glass, the depths of the ocean finally take you under, eating you alive. 

Someone whispers, “You’re going to be okay,” into the darkness, but the angel doesn’t have a face. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to hold on or keep floating. There is no beginning or end where you are. The ground is gone. It’s never going to end, you fear, drowning in your tears until you’re sucked into another black hole for the rest of your life. 

You succumb to it. You let the current drag you down, and then, you drown. 

You drown for the longest time, closing your eyes and accepting your fate. Until a hand dives into the water, searching for you. You blink, and you reach for it, not knowing who it belongs to but someone is trying to save you, so why not allow them to? An eerily familiar feeling fills you with warmth. 

The closer you inch to the surface, the louder the real world around you gets. You hear the beeping again, steadier this time. Someone must have defused the bomb. And there is a soft touch against your forehead, fingertips grazing your burning skin. Your eyes flutter.

A soft baritone calls for you. It’s familiar, but the sensations around you are dulled to an extent you can barely feel your legs. You adjust to the light in the room, and the heaviness of your eyelids that seems to want to drag you back down. His silhouette is a blur, at first, but once you find those comforting brown eyes staring down at you with a river of tears inside, you recognize him, and you’re suddenly wide awake. 

“Michael?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart contracts. Instead of conflict, all you feel is the sheer pleasure of relief when you see his face. His tired, beautiful face. And he’s real. He’s not a dream. You may not feel your body, but your mind is coming back to you, and you see him so clearly next to you, a sight for sore eyes and a balm for your broken heart. 

He came.

A tear slides down his cheek, but he wipes it before you can comment on it. Your throat is dry. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bopping with the silence that engulfs you. The air crackles. You’re not sure how to react. Your entire body vibrates with a need you have never felt before, but how can you get over what happened? It’s right there between you; you can feel the tension that has spun a net between you, and it’s almost like your lungs are collapsing all over again. 

But then Michael reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing your tear-stained cheek. “Yeah. I’m here,” he says. “I’m here, my love.”

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck with a broken exhale. He has never engulfed you faster, building a secure cocoon around you where nothing and no one can touch you. Your breaths are strangled. He wasn’t there before, but now he is, and it’s like you were never apart in the first place. Because you needed him like air, and he is the only one who knows how to make the pain go away because he knows you. 

“You didn’t pick up,” you mutter against his sweater. I thought we were over, you want to say.

He nods, squeezing you tighter. Your stitches protest, but you ignore them. He can tear them open one by one if he pleases, as long as he just holds you. “I know,” he says, barely keeping it together. “I’m so sorry. I was… I was meetin’ with Jimmy, and… I turned it off. I turned it off.” His voice cracks. So much guilt can’t possibly fit into one person.

Your nails dig into his back. “It’s okay,” now you’re the one comforting him. 

“No. If I’d known… Fuck! I thought… I thought I lost ya.”

“I’m sorry.”

Michael pulls away, eyes boring into yours. He cups your face. “Don’t do tha’,” he growls. “Don’t do this to yerself. It wasn’t your fault, I swear.”

You close your eyes. His gaze is so intense. He nudges you back to look at him. “Who did this to ya, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you confess. “I didn’t… I didn’t see his face. But he, uh… he stole the… the file. On my sister. And when I tried to stop him, he… he…”

“Wha’?” The look on his face is nothing short of terrifying, even as it blurs through your tears. “Did he touch you?” When he gets angry, his eyes tend to black out. It usually sends a chill down your spine, but tonight, you need him to look at you like that. You need him to be angry because anger is the strongest motivator, and you are too weak to display the true intensity of your feelings.

You motion to your throat with shaky fingers. “He ch–” The word refuses to come out. “Mhh–” You try to regulate your breathing. “He ch–choked me.” 

You have not yet looked into a mirror, but the soreness suggests quite a bit of bruising. Sarah didn’t say anything. You went through hell and the most obvious injury, the wound on your side, seems bad enough to think about. They probably swabbed under your fingernails already to get what little DNA evidence you tried to gather by fighting back, but you have little hope that the assailant is to be found in any database. And he wore gloves, that much you know. You can still taste the leather. Talking about it makes you eerily sick to your stomach. 

Another sob bubbles up in your chest; you choke on it. “And then he stabbed me,” you cry. “He stabbed me, and my lung collapsed, and… I thought I was going to die.”

Michael growls, physically forcing your face back into the crook of his neck. 

“Don’t leave me.”

You were the first to leave, and it was a mistake. You regret it with your entire bruised being to have ever let him go. You’re not entitled to his love, but if he left you now, you know you wouldn’t survive—because losing him is worse than dying. 

He presses your face further into the crook of his neck. “I’m not leavin’,” he says. “You’re safe now. No one’s gonna lay a hand on ya again.”

The words break the dam. “Please,” you beg, not knowing what for. 

“Shhh,” he shushes you. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop.”

“I didn’t mean what I said,” you ramble. “I was just sad and angry, and… we were both going through something. Hell, you told me about Anna and all I thought of doing was leave. I’m so fucking sorry, Michael. I don’t know how to make this up to you. I don’t…”

Michael tugs you back, seeing it as the only way you will listen to him. “Hey!” His fingers dig into your scalp. “It doesn’t matter, alright? I’m not angry. I… I thought I lost ya, and it almost killed me. I don’t care ‘bout one stupid fight. I don’t.” He chuckles softly, his eyes stained with tears again. “I care about you. I’m gonna fix this, you hear? Even if I have to kill the fuckin’ bastard who did this. God knows I want to. And I’m gonna get Anna back, too,” he says. “‘cause I’m still her father and I won’t let them take her from me. What I’m not gonna do is let you leave again without reason, so we’re gonna talk and we’re gonna find a way through this, alright? I promise you, so you have to promise me. Let me love you better. Please.”

Please. He breaks in your hand like wet sand struck by lightning. Though this time, you can’t pick up his broken pieces and glue him back together for it is his turn now to fix you. To love you better, as he said. 

You wipe your cheek on the palm of his hand, and his thumb instantly darts out to take over. It’s so rough yet so gentle against your sensitive skin. “I promise,” you whisper then, only honesty on your cracked lips.

He lets go of your scalp to pull you back in. “That’s my girl,” Michael murmurs. 

There is nothing quite as toxic as guilt, but you are each other’s antidote. You cling to him like a lifeline, and he clings to you. Where Sarah has gone, you’re not sure, but you also don’t care. She called him. She said horrible things about him, then saw your reaction, the sincere belief in his innocence and the love that is still very much there, and then she called him because there is no other way he could have found out. She called him because you didn’t need her; you needed Michael, and no drugs in the world could have changed that. 

“C’mon, lie back.” You comply almost instantly with his demand, scooting aside to make space for him. The frame of the bed creaks in protest, but he seems to neither care about the hospital’s property nor his comfort as he urges you to rest against his chest. “The police are gonna ask questions,” he tells you, tugging the blanket further around your body. You only now realize that you’re freezing. “I told them you had to rest, so they’re gonna come by in the mornin’, but I assure ya, I’m gonna be there. And then Jimmy’s gonna take us home.”

You blink up at him. “Jimmy?” you ask. It’s the only thing that strikes you as odd. You suspected the police would come by, Sarah already told you the same thing, but Michael conspiring with his brother to get you out of here is a new development. 

“Yeah. No one takes a shot at a Kinsella and gets away with it.”

“But I’m not–”

He cuts you off, “You are now.”

Your heart stops a beat in your chest before it starts racing a million miles per hour, so fast you can barely catch up. 

It’s odd, all of it. His family expressed their disdain for you at great lengths just to retaliate back when your blood is shed, but instead of dread and overwhelming suspicion, you only feel terrifyingly content. 

You’re a Kinsella now, Michael said, and what else can you do but embrace it?

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle @ravenclaw617 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocksstarlight @ebathory997

[8-rae-rae-8]

CW Abuse, queerphobia, neglect, religion, attempts of cleansing via religious practices, minor Agere

Johnny was pushed to leave his house as an older teen. Each straw snapped in half as his parents picked at his brain. Seventeen with nowhere to go. A fresh mohawk on his head, eyeliner traced around his bright blue eyes. All he had were the clothes on his back, he didn't have time to get anything else. Not between his mother's shouting and his father being home soon. All he could do was get out his window with a protein bar, wallet, and a half empty bottle of water.

Where was he supposed to go looking like this? With no one close enough to run to, no family that dared to bring him in. They would tell his mother or the cops anyway.

He had enough money in a bank account he could withdraw from, a bus ticket to get past the boarder couldn't be too expensive. If he could just get there and find somewhere cheap to stay, where no one would look for him, he'd make it eventually. Make it where, he didn’t know.

A job was out of the question for now, no proof of residency. The ticket over the boarder was already expensive enough, a hotel was out of the question.

“You’re not the son I raised.”

“God, I fear the adult you’ll grow into.”

The way his mother spoke to herself, bled herself dry pleading to a god that would never reach his hand from the heavens and ‘save her from her son’s madness’.

The way she screamed as he locked his door and opened his window.

“You’re dead set on ruining everything and everyone!!”

She had hissed. She pleaded for him to straighten out, be normal. But no, he dressed in patches, spikes raised on his shoulders, a rainbow painted on his back pocket. Faded and dulled over the years of his parents painting over it with black paint to simply ruin it. Ruin his identity, ruin his image.

“Save the son I disciplined and praised.. For the one who disobeyed me.”

His mother sat on her knees, hands folded in prayer. In pleas. His father joined every so often, muttering prayers at her side. Sycned words, as if they knew what the other would say.

“There’d be time to rectify him.”

Time to fix him.

Time to break him apart and mend him in their image.

That’s how he knew he needed to go. His last straw snapped in half. He needed far away. Across the boarder, safe somewhere else. Somewhere the cops wouldn’t be looking. Somewhere he could slip in.

His first night is spent mapping out the city. Mud stained boots washed by puddles and rain, revealing their old rose design on the side. The yellow stitching stained brown long ago. Walking till his heels bled and his lungs no longer filled with air. The best place to sleep was some shitty motel that was suspiciously cheap. Thirty pounds a night.

Good enough for him.

With the amount of money from his card now transferred to cash, he broke the debit card up and threw it out before he got his place in the motel. Some dull town near Newcastle. Good enough for a sleep now he knew the area. He walked long enough to know that no one was coming for him.

They never did. Not friends, not family. Not even the people that could make a good buck off him, like employers.

In the cold of the motel, he was alone. He shed his drenched clothes to dry on a towel rack. There were no bandages to clean up his heels, just scratchy towels. But home didn’t offer that comfort either. That forsaken house was freezing, colder than any unfamiliar place could be.

Johnny couldn’t recall the many things that made it that way. It had just been so cold for the longest time. He could point out feelings and sensations, but never a full event, like his mind forced him not to remember what all happened. Just in the last week, he could remember the way his skin crawled as his pastor touched his shoulder and pulled him in for a chat. Never was he allowed to stay home, not since he started showing signs of being ‘impure’.

Impurity. That’s why he screams to be seen. As more than a mess, as much than an infection for people to hide their children from. Impurity, rectification… A disease to be healed.

At thirteen, he was first called a devil’s spawn. An evil creation. A faggot over something so simple as art. A piece to study anatomy leading to him losing all access to the outside. His parents even faked his sick days to pull him to church daily until he was deemed cleansed.

His mother’s scolding stuck in his head, no more than words and a tone that conveyed his apparent betrayal.

“You can throw your life away, just not at my expense.”

Over art. Like he was throwing everything away over pencil and paper. His parents surely saw it like that. Constant reminders that he was being watched by an unseen god and angels felt so completely stupid to him, but had him checking corners and his closet every night like habit.

Even still, he checked the motel’s closets and bathrooms. Like he swore he needed, or they would find and watch him. Even so far away from their church.

The sheets scratched at his skin. Maybe he should have thought about his comfort, but that wasn’t exactly something he was sure he could even get. Comfort, far from anything even semi-familiar. So, so very far from everything he knew. In a new town, with bloodied heels and a broken mind. Pieces chipped off every second, he was sure.

What else could be that hazy feeling behind his eyes?

What else could be forcing him to get comfortable, dispite the horrendous sheets?

His eyes shot around the room. Door locked, bathroom light on, closet shut. Then his eyes closed, nearly as if forced by exhaustion and something creeping around in his head. So very alone, but something trying to warm him. It was gentle, like the hum of a lullaby.

Johnny tugged the fabric of his tanktop into his mouth, suckling at the fabric. Each movement helped him relax into the cheap bed, his body heat warming the blankets with ease. He ran hot dispite the chill of the air around him.

He could get himself far enough, he could run till he couldn’t move. But he dreamed of someone coming to save him. Someone like him, someone who would love him unconditionally. Someone turned to two, then three and four. People who would love him with every ounce of their beings.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Unconventional Traditions - S.Harrington

Summary - Steve, his girlfriend and their friends have some very unconventional traditions which lead to some holiday shenanigans.

Word Count - 1164

Warnings - drug use(weed), profanity, mentions of sex, female reader, use of Y/N, not proofread

Author's Note - Day 11!! I'm back to posting at my usual time for now, it probably won't last but I will try! I hope you enjoy!

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Their traditions started in the morning on Christmas Eve. They would all gather at Steve’s house since his parents were never home and have breakfast together. The breakfast was always the same options, pancakes, eggs, toast, bacon, fruit salad and french toast. Y/N usually spends the night before getting everything prepared and waking up extra early to get to cooking. Steve was pretty good in the kitchen but she was better at multitasking so the cooking was left up to her as Steve cut up fruit.

After breakfast, they usually will start a few different holiday themed puzzles. They usually had about three going at once, making it a competition to see which team finished first. Every year it was Y/N, Steve and Robin finishing first which may seem surprising but their three brains equal about two depending on how tired they were. They had a system down, Y/N would get all of the edge pieces done, then work on the bottle, Robin working in the middle and Steve working at the top. The system had yet to fail them. 

The puzzles usually took them about 3 hours so by the time they were done, they would go to start their movie marathon. Because Robing and Steve worked at the video store, they were able to snag the last copies of A Christmas Story, Gremlins and A Christmas Carol so they usually started with Gremlins. As the movie began, most of the older teens, and by most that really just meant Eddie, Steve, Y/N and Gareth going outside to light up a joint to pass between the four of them. As they got a slight high going, they would head back inside to the warmth, start up a fire and Y/N would go back to the kitchen to start making some hot chocolate. 

Nobody dared to make hot chocolate because they all knew hers was the best, spiking the hot chocolate for the older teens and leaving a normal hot chocolate for the younger ones. They would all cram into the living room, around the tv and watch their movies and drink their hot chocolate. As the movies came to an end, they would move to their next task, ordering a disgusting amount of pizza, by now the four stoners in the group were about four joints in, so the munchies had set in. Y/N used to make homemade pizza but they gave that up the year before because she tried to make pizza while she was baked and she nearly set the house on fire. 

As they waited for the pizza to arrive, Nancy, Jonathan, Will, Mike, El and Argyle all walked in so they exchanged their gifts. Every year they did secret santa but not really, everyone knew who they had and there was a $20 limit. Their big rule was no significant others and no siblings. This year Y/N had the pleasure of buying for Eddie so she had gifted him some new guitar strings, picks and some joints rolled by her as an apology for always stealing his. 

Robin had gotten Y/N, gifting the girl a new sketchbook, some sketching pencils and more crochet hooks since she lost hers like crazy. By the time the gift exchange was over, the pizza had arrived, everyone pitching in to pay before digging in. Y/N and Steve taking over the lazy boy. Golden Girls was playing on the tv quietly as the room was filled with chatter of the friends. 

“I love doing this every year,” Steve admitted quietly to his girlfriend.

“I do too. This is our big dysfunctional family. I’d rather be here than spending time anywhere else,” She replied back, looking her boyfriend in the eye and admiring them. Steve took this chance to kiss his girlfriend gently, almost shy. “I love you Steve Harrington.”

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

As the rest of the group finished up the pizza and cleaned the living room a bit. It was time for some games, they usually prank called their families so this year they started with the Wheelers. Eddie held the phone and everyone in the room dead silent to hear what was happening. “Hello?”

“Yeah, hi, this is Paul’s pizza just notifying you that your order of 12 pizzas is out for delivery. Will you be paying cash or card ma’am?” Eddie responded in a lower voice than his usual speaking voice.

“12 pizzas! I never ordered 12 pizzas! This must be a mistake!”

“Are you Karen Wheeler?”

“Well, yeah but-”

“Then the pizzas are for you, so cash or card lady?”

With that, she had hung up, the whole room bursting out in laughter. Y/N wiping a tear from her eye as Gareth dialed her parents house. This went on for another hour or so until everyone had started to yawn. The younger teens had already set up camp in the living room, the older ones were able to set up in the guest room, Steve’s parents’ room and his room as well. 

The stoner group had multiplied, so the 6 of them had gone outside for one last pass around before calling it a night. After the joint had died out, they all went upstairs, going into the respective rooms. Eddie crashes on the floor in Steve’s room, Gareth and Argyle getting the guest room and Jonathan, Nancy and Robin getting Steve’s parents’ room. This had been their typical arrangement for the last couple years, nobody really daring to change it up.

“I swear if I hear you two fucking, I will vomit all over the both of you and then the carpet,” Eddie threatened.

“When have we ever had sex with you in the room?” Y/N asked him incredulously. 

“Last year, you thought I was asleep but I wasn’t. You guys aren’t as quiet as you think, granted it was a little hot but I still wanted to vomit.” Steve chucked a pillow at Eddie’s head before collapsing on the bed.

“Don’t worry dude, I think we are far too high to have sex tonight,” Steve assured their friend.

“Whatever you say Steve,” Eddie replied unconvinced. She had finally gotten onto the bed, immediately making her way into Steve’s side and snuggling close. 

“Goodnight baby,” Steve said to his girlfriend, kissing the top of her head.

“Aww, goodnight Harrington!” Eddie teased with a chuckle, earning a groan from the couple.

“Goodnight Eddie. Night Stevie,” Y/N giggled lightly before relaxing herself. She was the first one to fall asleep, drifting off not even 5 minutes after laying down.

“Night Munson.”

“Night Harrington.”

With that, all was quiet in the house, the only thing that was heard was gentle breathing and snoring. Snow gently falling as the night progressed, coating the house in a blanket of white and adding a chill in the air. Making their perfect and unconventional Christmas just that much cozier.

[sapphic-agent]

Let's Talk About the Leaks

[Spoilers for recent leaks, turn around if you don't want to be spoiled]

So I usually don't do this as I don't keep up with the manga other than for research and I only really check in with the anime from time to time, but holy hell I feel like I just woke up in the Twilight Zone.

My fellow antis have been talking about this all morning, so I figured I probably should be too. So. I looked at the leaks...

Bakugou's Quirk There's so much wrong here. Not only because of his awakening (he's had like three at this point), but how he was brought back. Apparently a drop of sweat made it into his bloodstream and restarted his heart. First of all, a small explosion is not the same as a defibrillator. If this was Kaminari's quirk we were talking about, that would have made sense. But an explosion- even a tiny one- has way more of a chance of hurting the heart than restarting it. Second of all, that's not how his quirk works. Bakugou's sweat is only combustive on his palms. It isn't just the glycerin in his sweat, it's a reaction of that with the acid that comes from his palms. No other parts of his body have ever produced explosions because no other parts of his body produce that acid. So it makes no sense that his heart was restarted by his quirk. No amount of work or dedication is enough to change your previously established anatomy. ("Pain" being the answer also makes no sense. His sweat wouldn't seek out an injury and try to correct it, again that isn't how that works)

AFO's vs Bakugou There's no way. There's no way that Bakugou's gonna take down the big-bad of the series. First of all, Bakugou shouldn't even be a match for the Demon Lord. It's been stated multiple times that OFA is the only quirk that can stand a chance against AFO. That's literally the point of passing it down and finding successors and why only a few heroes even know about AFO's existence. No random explosion quirk should be able to match against AFO. Second of all, AFO. Sweetie. Sister. Why are you letting this random kid get your panties in a bunch? Because he looks like someone you had a hate boner for 200 years ago? Not to mention his body is barely being held together. Drive a spike through his heart or some shit and be done with it. It's really not that deep for you to be letting him get under your skin. (All Might literally ripped his face off. There's no way he hates Bakugou more, there's just no way) This match-up is also random as hell. AFO and Bakugou don't have a moral conflict. There's no clashing of ideals or a reason for them to hate one another past AFO likening him to Second. There's nothing driving this fight. Either Izuku or All Might (or both) should be the ones to defeat him. There's no emotion to this fight. Nothing compelling and nothing interesting. It just exists to boost Bakugou as a threat level to AFO and make him more important than he is.

Izuku Izuku girlies stay losing, bro. He's barely had a part in this war. Shigaraki's clearly toying with him and that's the extent of their interaction. No deeper conversations, no indication that Shigaraki even wants to be saved. So his role in "saving Shigaraki" is all for nothing and doesn't contribute to the war at all. It would be different if this was a fight in the making. If Shigaraki and Izuku were set up to have a huge emotional moment in the end. But beyond the mall scene, they've barely had any meaningful interactions. Hell, say what you want about Uraraka wanting to save Toga, but at least they have had more than one interaction. Uraraka is probably the only one who does understand her to a degree. It makes some amount of sense that she wants to save Toga. But Izuku doesn't understand Shigaraki nearly enough to save him. They're supposed to be parallels, but they haven't been built up to be. This interaction is meaningless.

So that's what's going on in the manga right now, take it how you will. There's more I haven't talked about but I generally don't have the energy. If you guys have anything to add please feel free to.

[melodyofthevoid]

“Captive”

Drinking alone, of course it happened the one time she ignored her own advice and went out for a few drinks alone. Hindsight and all that nonsense Ilia talked about at length. Whatever.

As Mariza might say: her mistake.

But with Willow breathing down Mariza’s neck, Mariza taking that about as well as could be expected, and generally needing a single solitary moment to herself? A drink was more than in order.

The green fins even set her at ease after the first few rounds, her vision a bit too faded at the edges to realize that the fins surrounded an entirely human ear. Not until it was already too late.

Then the room started to warp and turn, her ale a bit too salty, and her face too warm for the measly amount she’d drank.

After that? A complete blur.

Which left her here, with a pounding headache, rope burn, and absolutely no clue where the fuck she was.

People stood at odd intervals around her, holding onto the ropes binding her from head to toe. One even lashed around her neck in a noose, an unspoken threat. She bared her teeth and searched her surroundings for something, anything that might help her break loose. The moment that one of these idiots slipped up, she’d make them pay.

“Ah, our guest has arrived!”

A voice called from the distance, opening the door and letting in a flood of bright light, forcing Delta to squint as her head protested. Rather violently. Great.

Which idiot with a vendetta (or desperately in need of the bounty money) decided to take their shot at her this time?

The blood in Delta’s veins froze as the figure approached, too familiar. Nightmarishly so. Blonde hair fell over her shoulders in waves, loose, not tied up and away just yet. An eye the color of rotten seaweed examined her from a face that should have been beautiful. If it wasn’t for the too smooth perfection, like a ceramic doll, it might’ve been.

It was a face she glimpsed only once, cowering beneath a table in a place forsaken by Indra and all things good, a place no one but her, lucky frightened her, returned from. The Butcher’s Den.

“Oh,” her voice wavered in delight, “You’re even more perfect than I’d imagined. I’m honored to meet you, Delta.”

Somehow, that sparked her body to start working again. Delta thrashed, still exhausted but she’d be damned if she went down without a fight. Anything to ignore the terror of the Butcher knowing her. The Butcher laughed, tutting like Delta was merely a misbehaving animal, and not a piece of meat that she wanted to carve.

“No need for that now, I’d hate to put your body through any unnecessary abuse before I even get started. It’d be a waste for such a rare specimen.”

The Butcher’s face fell, polite smile turning into a sneer.

“Charles!”

The man who’d spiked her drink straightened, nearly shaking the fins he no doubt cut off himself from his head.

“Yes? What is it?”

“You said that she was alone, right? No one followed you?”

“Not at all, Hea-“

“Good. Well Delta,” the Butcher grinned again, somehow wider now, “Looks like no one will find you. Now, let’s get you all prepared. But I think you’ll last longer than the others, I’d hate to lose you too soon.”

Delta grimaced, yet sighed in relief. If her crew didn’t come, good. They’d be safe. For now… she’d have to stay alive. Survive.

Gods she didn’t want to end up in that tank. But it looked like she didn’t have a lot of say in that.

[analogwriting]

Childhood Crush

Chapter 14: Magnesium

Killer x gn!reader word count: 3.3k a/n: ayeo fuck kese amirite???? this isn't the chapter i was crying over btw also i definitely have this queued to post at like 2am bc i feel like that's my brand so i'm deffo passed out rn cause i open LMFAO next

Dead? He told everyone you were dead? Now you were even more confused than before. Why the hell would he say something like that? It only drove the question more - why the hell did he want you out of the picture? Is that why Eustass seemed to go off the deep end? Cause his level of recklessness did just suddenly spike out of nowhere. Was that when he received the false news? 

Your head was spinning but you had to focus on the task at hand. While you were running, you felt something land on your shoulder and you stopped. It was a bird - not any bird, but Myra’s bird. One she sent when she had urgent news. You couldn’t help but be nervous.

You untied the letter attached to its foot, opening it carefully and reading it. As the words sunk in, you started laughing. Was she fucking joking? “C’mon, My. You could’ve told me that from the beginning.” 

Dear y/n,

I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you this in person - I just didn’t know how. So, I set up a fake mission to get you to find your brother. You always seemed hesitant to leave our island - to leave Lily and I, so I figured this was the only way to get you to reunite with him. I knew you would keep putting it off, claiming that you needed to get stronger. I hope you forgive me for lying to you.

There is no flower that we need for a breakthrough - there’s nothing in Wano that we need. I just knew your brother was there and knew you were missing him. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

My sincerest apologies,

Myra.

At the very bottom was Lily’s name written as well. You were sure she just wanted to feel included. You smiled fondly at the letter. “Oh, My. I could never be mad at you.” You pulled a pen pad and pen out of your pocket, writing a quick response before sending the bird off again. Impressive it was able to find you in all this chaos, honestly.

You made sure to let her know you weren’t mad and thanked her for everything. The whole thing was just hysterical. Myra was terrible at talking about feelings of any kind. A lot of people claimed she couldn’t feel normal emotions like a normal human, but she just couldn’t express them. She was rigid and came off cold, but you knew better. She had her own way of caring.

Obviously. She arranged a whole fake mission just to reunite you with your brother. You tucked away the letter, knowing you’d probably end up just keeping it. A keepsake along with the knife. Huh, maybe you were getting sentimental. Eh, whatever.

Well, now what? You spend a considerable amount of time looking for this damn flower that didn’t exist. And your brother is probably long gone from the place that he was at. 

You suddenly felt something jump on to you from up above, yelping as you tumbled to the ground with whatever it was. After a moment of rolling around and a few scrapes with something sharp, you pinned it to the ground.

“Dive!?” Your eyes widened as you saw the small woman struggling against your grip. “Get fucking off of me!” She cried. Confusion took over your features. “Dive! It’s me!” 

“No, it can’t be! You’re dead!” She eventually stopped struggling. That’s when you noticed her lip quivering and the tears in her eyes. “Who are you and why do you have their face?” 

You stared at her for a long moment, processing. Right. Kese told all of them that you were dead. You let out a small sigh, sitting back and letting her go. “It’s me, Dive. I don’t know why Kese told everyone I died.” She sniffled, glaring at you.

“I don’t believe you.” She slowly sat up, wincing. You noticed a cut on her arm. “Here, let me tend to it.” You reached out and she pulled away suddenly, seemingly to distrust you. You frowned. 

“Dive. I promise you. It’s me.” You tried to think of something to help your case, then you remembered. You lifted up your pant leg, showing her a clear bite mark scar. “When we met, I startled you so bad that you bit the shit out of me. I couldn’t walk right for a week.”

Dive’s eyes widened and tears started falling. “It really is you!” She threw herself into your arms as she sobbed, burying her face in your chest. You held her there, comforting her. Fuck, why did Kese do this? What the hell was his angle? 

After Dive calmed down enough, she pulled away. “So, are you coming back with us?” A soft smile spreads across your face and you nod. “Of course.” She grinned widely. “Good. Everyone is going to be so fucking happy you’re alive.”

You stood up with Dive, looking around. “I heard the captain is fighting Big Mom with that other pirate captain - we should go find them!” She pulled you down the hallway and you followed behind her. 

“Dive?” The both of you stop as you see Heat and Wire coming out of one of the many hallways that seemed to be in this maze of a place. They both tensed when they saw you. “Dive…get away from them.” You groaned, rolling your eyes. This was getting old fast. Sure, you understood why everyone was cautious but you were getting annoyed and honestly you couldn’t wait to kick some ass. Well, specifically Kese’s ass.

“No! It’s really them! The-”

“For all we know, they could be some kind of devil fruit user.”

You looked at Wire as he spoke, thinking for a moment. “Remember when we were kids? There was the snapping turtle incident? You know? The one where it bi-”

They were both over in moments, covering your mouth with their hands. “Okay! Okay!” You couldn’t help but start cackling behind their hands. They let you go, staring at you for a moment. They took you in and you sighed. “You’re making me uncomfortable,” you grumbled.

You suddenly felt them both wrap their arms around you and you yelped, almost taking a tumble to the ground, but catching yourself at the last moment. You patted their backs, keeping your own tears back. Mostly because you just missed the shit out of everyone. Besides, you knew these two for such a long time and now seeing them after being gone…

“Alright, alright,” you said, sniffling and pulling away from them. Now wasn’t the time to be sentimental - there was a wholeass war going on.

“We don’t understand…” Heat said, shaking his head. “Why would Kese tell everyone you’re dead?” Wire was just as confused. You shook your own head. “That’s what I’m going to try to figure out.” You sighed, putting your hands on your hips. You supposed you understood getting you off the ship…actually…no you fucking didn’t. Why has he been out to get you since the fucking get go?

“When the captain received that letter…” Wire frowned. You blinked. “Letter? What letter?” He looked at you. “Kese gave it to him. Apparently there was a letter sent by the lab you were at, saying that you had died on a mission. It included some newspaper clipping as well. There was a picture of you and everything.” 

Your eyes widened. A picture? How the fuck did he pull that off? Why was he going through such lengths to do such a thing? Nothing was making any fucking sense. 

“The captain went on a rampage after that,” Dive chimed in with a frown. “That’s when he ended up fighting Shanks. Shanks had tried to stop his rampage and the captain lashed out at him and…well…” She shrugged, assuming you knew the rest. You frowned, indicating that you did, in fact, know the outcome.

“Killer also seemed to change quite a bit. He wasn’t the level headed vice captain we all grew up with. Seemed to not have much care for what happened to him. It grew reckless… He kinda stopped cooking too. It was…” Heat shook his head. “Bad.”

You stood there, shocked. Bewildered. Dumbfounded. So, your guess was right. When your brother started to grow more reckless, that’s when he received the fake news. Also, you weren’t expecting to hear all this about Killer. Stopped cooking? You just couldn’t imagine it. But…you just couldn’t fucking figure out why. It was so weird, so confusing. What would Kese gain from all this?

“It’s so fucking good to see you,” Heat said with a large smile, hugging you again. You patted his back and smiled. “It’s good to see you guys too. I just wish you all didn’t think I died. That’s definitely making everything much harder.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you pulled away from Heat.

“Well, let’s head to wherever Tungsten is now. I saw him earlier, but at this point I’m not sure if he’s fully convinced what he saw was real - same with Killer.” Their expressions were bored into your skull. Well, Eustass’. But you knew that Killer must’ve felt the same way. You could just feel it.

Wire nods. “Follow me.” And you do. You slowly find more and more crew members on the way, all of them absolutely overjoyed to see you. Gig nearly crushed you when he picked you up, sobbing as he hugged you. You almost died for real. That would’ve been incredibly awkward - surviving death allegations only to die by affection.

The only people you were missing at this point were Killer, Bubblegum, and Pomp. And the man of the hour - Kese. Though, someone mentioned he was watching the ship. Everyone seemed to be in agreement that they weren’t going to say anything to him and just let you and Eustass deal with his ass.

Eventually, you made it to the room where Eustass was fighting Big Mom. You arrived just in time to see him summon a behemoth of some kind of a machine. Your eyes widened as you watched the scene unfold before you. You’d never really watched your brother fight before, but you knew it wasn’t to this calibur. 

“Holy fucking shit,” you mumbled. “Impressive, right?” You looked over to Heat and nodded. “Yeah. When the fuck did that happen?” He shrugged. “This is definitely a newer one, but this was the only good thing that came out of…everything that happened. Awakened his devil fruit n’ all.” Your own face darkened. You still couldn’t believe that Kese just…lied to everyone. About something of that caliber too.

You needed to see this letter. To see this…picture.

While Eustass was fighting, you started patching everyone up. The lot of you stayed out of the way and you figured there was a better way to pass the time besides just sitting and watching. The fight seemed to be almost over anyway. With the amount of yelling and big attacks happening, you knew the fight was drawing to a close. 

“Aren’t you worried, y/n? You seem rather calm about the fight right now,” Wire said. You looked at him, shaking your head. “Says the man who never shows any kind expression.” You snorted before answering his question. “I’m not worried in the slightest though. I have faith in my brother. They’ll win.” 

It wasn’t long after that that he had done just that. They won. You head over to your brother with the rest of the crew, cries and shouts to be heard. You stop next to him, kneeling down and smiling. “Good job, Tungsten.” You started to patch him up quickly. He just stared at you. “You…really are back, Bigs? It wasn’t a sick delusion earlier?” You shook your head. He let out a breathless chuckle as he seemed to process it, staring up at the ceiling.

“They’re really back, captain!” Dive chimed in. You saw as tears welled in Eustass’ eyes and he covered his face with his arm. “I can’t fucking believe it,” he mumbled in a hoarse voice. You didn’t say much, just working on patching him up. You knew he was more than likely crying, but he wasn’t about to display that kind of emotion. You let him be.

Suddenly, you heard a command come from a large dragon that came crashing from above. Was that Kaido? He was a fucking dragon? An order came to attack your brother and the other captain from the other crew. You stood up, pulling out your own blades as people began to run towards the lot of you.

“Like fucking hell I’ll let them hurt you.” 

Though, not much was able to happen before a large hand came down, grabbing Kaido and yoinking him right back out of the ceiling. You blinked, looking back at your brother who was sitting up. He looked just as confused as you, shaking his head and shrugging. “Luffy - I’m assuming.” You blinked. The Strawhat guy? Man, you really were missing a lot of important pieces of information right now, but you weren’t about to dwell on it.

It seemed everyone was distracted after that. A few people tried to come after Eustass, but you took them down with ease. You saw him stand up at the corner of your eye. “You better sit the fuck back down, Tungsten!” You turned around and glared at him and he returned the sentiment. “I’m fucking fine - chill out!”

“You just took a fuckin’ beating. You don’t need to be standing!” You marched back over to him, letting the others worry about what stragglers tried to attack. 

“But I won!”

“Well, that’s not what I fucking said is it?”

“What the fuck are you getting on about?”

“I’m here to patch you up, no matter the damage. Now just accept my generosity before I let you bleed out!”

“Why are you fucking yelling at me?!”

“I’m not yelling!”

Just like that - the two of you are back to your old ways of arguing. To anyone else but the crew, it probably looked like yet another fight was about to break out, but to your crew members, they couldn’t have been happier to see the sight before their eyes. They all had smiles on their faces and some of them were even laughing about it. “Finds out y/n is alive and the first thing they do is argue. They’re really related,” you heard Wire muse.

“Why the hell are you mad at me!” You shouted, drowning out background noise.

“I’m not mad - I’m just shocked!”

“Well-”

“Well what? What could you possibly have to say now? More yelling? You’ve done enough of that!”

“I’ve got two years’ worth of scoldings to catch up on!”

“What the fuck does that mean!”

“It means-”

“Alright.” A third party interjects as you suddenly feel yourself being lifted off the ground. “Killer!” you shouted, immediately beginning to squirm. Eustass just laughed at you. “Ha! Serves you right for yelling for no reason!”

“Just ‘cause ass is in your name don’t mean you gotta act like one!” you shout from over Killer’s shoulder as he carries you away from your brother.

“Oh my fucking god - there are two of them,” you hear a voice say. Your eyes land on Trafalgar Law who looks absolutely horrified at the scene before him. You flip him off. “Mind ya business, asshole.” 

“Real threatening coming from the person being lugged around like a sack of potatoes.”

“Why you fuckin- Killer let me at him!” You start struggling only to feel his grip on you tighten and you immediately give up.

“Absolutely not.” 

He does, however, finally put you down once there’s distance in between you and your brother. You dust yourself off and straighten yourself out with a sigh before folding your arms. You looked at Killer with a small glare. “I was just trying to help,” you grumbled. 

Then you heard it. You fucking heard what haunted you from your encounter in the snow. You tensed as the laugh rang through the air and your head snapped up, looking around for that deranged swordsman.

It fucking hit you like a fucking freight train.

Your eyes widened as you slowly looked at Killer, whose shoulders were shaking along with the haunting laughter. “Killi?” Your voice was soft as you slowly walked towards him. He stepped back and you paused for a moment. You looked over to your brother whose attention had also been grabbed by the sound of Killer’s new haunting laughter. It seemed to reverberate in a way that stuck with you.

It was hollow and emotionless. Not like the genuine laughter that it used to be. This was not the laugh you had fallen in love with. It was a twisted ghost of something you once enjoyed.

“Killer, what happened?” Before really thinking, you outstretched your arm towards his helmet but he quickly grabbed your arm - which happened to be the bandaged one and you hissed softly, pulling your arm away. He paused in his own movements as well.

His own hand reached out and took your arm gently, looking at your bandages. “Did I do this?” You looked at him, confused. Wait…was that shot in the dark theory you had true? You assumed he was just affected by whatever that swordsman was infected with. Was Killer and that swordsman the same person?

“No? It was some crazy swordsman in-”

“I did this…” You could hear the realization in his voice as it also hit you, but you’re still in denial. There was no way they were the same person. The dead look in his eyes. The look of bloodlust and just…

“Killer, no-”

“I did.” He ripped off his helmet and you gasped - mostly just out of shock from his sudden movements. You looked up at him with wide eyes. The bandages were gone, yes. But that smile, that haunting, empty smile stretched across his face. It looked absolutely painful. You reached your hands up towards his face and he pulled back, that damn cackle ringing out from him.

You caught his face in your hands anyway, brushing his hair out of his face to get a whole view of him. “What did they do to you?” Your voice was soft as you looked up at him. You watched as he cackled, the smile and the noise not matching the pure sadness his eyes were portraying. You saw the tears forming in his eyes. He was clearly in pain. Surely it wasn’t comfortable to have your face stretched and contorted in such a way permanently.

There had to be something someone could do about this.

Before you could say much more, Killer pulls away, putting his helmet back on his head. Eustass joins the two of you and you look at him. “What the fuck happened?” Your brother blinks as the blame of your conversation was pointed at him. He just holds up his hands in a surrender-like way.

“It wasn’t his fault, y/n…” You look back at Killer. “I’ll…explain later.” You stare at him for a moment before looking at your brother who also has a dark expression on his face. You nod, looking back at Killer. “Fine. I’ll let it be - for now.” “We have something to take care of anyway.” The two of them nod, knowing exactly what, or who you are referring to.