#or father directly clawing someone's eyes out

[fisheito]

(3) remaining

[dracowars]

knight in shining armour | elrond

pairing: elrond x elf!reader

word count: 5,5k

summary: where elrond and y/n have to make fatal decisions in war

a/n: i'm having so much fun with writing in this universe i haven't had in a long time (with writing in general) and i think that's beautiful <3 season 2 elrond really did it for me, so i hope you enjoy this flangsty fic. don't forget to reblog and give feedback, it means the world to me ♡

warnings: angst, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, miscommunication (kind of), elrond kisses galadriel

universe: the rings of power

You hold your breath once you step into the dimly lit tent, teeming with orcs and their smells. Carefully, you place one foot in front of the other, never taking your eyes off the enemy who is currently watching three elves enter its territory. Amidst all these orcs and darkness, you couldn't stand out less in your polished white armour.

You follow Vorohil who is walking directly behind Elrond, and quickly spot the Father of the Orcs sitting on a makeshift chair that almost resembles a throne. Your gaze doesn't linger on him for long, however, because something or someone else catches your eye. Galadriel is standing right behind him, tied up and leaning against a post. Her eyes widen when your gaze meets and everything in her face screams for you to not be here, to turn around and leave again immediately. But you are here to help her, to free her from the clutches of the enemy, from the claws of evil. And you won't leave without her.

One of the orcs tells Elrond to sit opposite Adar, and he does as he is told with so much confidence you hardly recognize the sweet, curious boy behind the mask. Vorohil positions himself to his left, you stand on his right, ready to step in at any time should something go amiss.

You are more than aware of your situation: right in the mouth of the enemy whose teeth could pierce your flesh any moment, with absolutely no escape. Should this turn out to be a trap and part of Adar's plan, you have stepped right into it. Yet, Elrond insisted on not bringing a weapon of his own. You, on the other hand, have hidden daggers all around your body that you could pull out in the blink of an eye if the situation arises.

Even though all eyes are on Elrond, you still feel uncomfortable. You have never been this close to orcs before without fighting them at the same time.

"The ring you carry. Show it to me", Adar opens the conversation, and you inevitably flinch. Of course he shows interest in the ring. Like all of Middle-earth, it may seem.

"A foolish act if I had brought it here", Elrond answers in a firm voice and appears calm and collected, stoic almost, one arm draped over the armrest.

Adar's expression tells you that he is less than satisfied with this answer. What he doesn't know, however, is that the ring is closer to him than he thinks possible.

Its metal presses cold against the skin between your collarbones, your heart thumping loudly at the mention of it and your mind drifts back to the moment when it was handed to you.

'You shall have it', Elrond tells you, wearing that gentle smile on his lips that always adorns his features when he's around you, that makes your heart beat faster every single time. He places Nenya in your palm and when the light reflects in its beauty, you gasp. This small ring, inconspicuous at first glance but incredibly beautiful, contains a power you can't and don't even want to imagine.

'No, Elrond. I can't', you whisper, afraid that your voice might break. He now clasps your hand with both of his and gently closes your fingers around the piece of jewelry.

'My love. I wouldn't trust anyone else to keep it safe', he tells you with so much confidence and affection in his voice that you can't help but believe his words. The way he stands in front of you, his brown locks falling into his face, his eyes clear and bright, and holds your hand tightly leaves no room for further discussion. He trusts you with this power and you won't fail him.

'You can consider yourself a ring bearer now', he smiles, gently guiding your fist to his mouth to place a light kiss on top of it, his other hand cupping your cheek while doing so. His eyes linger on your lips for a second too long, but before you can say anything, he is summoned to the High King.

"It was Celebrimbor himself who welcomed Sauron in. You cannot save him. You can save Galadriel", Adars voice brings you back to the present. The circumstances you find yourself in make it hard to believe his words. He won't let Galadriel go willingly and Elrond will never give him the ring voluntarily. Since it is in your possession, you don't plan on handing it over either. No matter how much more danger that puts you in.

"It is an earnest offer. I suggest you take it", Adar continues, staring solely at Elrond from across the table, and stands up from his seat. "And leave Sauron to me."

The mention of this name sends a shiver down your spine. A name that describes pure evil. It is obvious from the way Adar says his name that he feels as much hatred towards him as the elves and all other inhabitants of Middle-earth. It makes you a little suspicious, after all, Adar was once a loyal servant of Sauron.

Once more, your gaze slides over to Galadriel when Adar walks around the table. One of the orcs holds his sharp weapon against her throat, a sign to not even think of making a wrong move. It is known that Galadriel was deceived by Sauron, or Halbrand as she used to call him, which is why her face reacts to his name, too.

She whispers something and you try to read her lips, but you don't get a chance when Adar suddenly stands right in front of you, blocking your view. Although he is still talking to Elrond, his full attention is now solely on you.

"You must know you cannot defeat me in battle. I will outmaneuver you, my forces outfight yours, and you will fall", Adar spits out, searching your face for any signs of fear, but you hold your ground and present him with your best death stare in return. But inside of you, it looks much different. Chaos rages within your mind and veins, your heart is beating so fast that it's pounding in your ears and Nenya is pressing painfully against your skin. You send a prayer to the Valar that Adar won't suspect anything, that he can't see behind the mask you've put on. Because you don't know how much longer you can keep it up, especially not under his relentless gaze.

Adar takes another step towards you and you can now feel his breath on your skin. Since he knows that you cannot resist him at the moment, he uses this to his advantage. His eyes search your face, but you cannot say what exactly they are looking for. Whatever it is, he doesn't find it.

"You will fall and all your little elves with you", he says in a calm voice, but his words are filled with hatred. At this, Elrond suddenly raises from his seat as well and positions his body between the two of you, enabling you to finally breathe again, your heartbeat slowing with relief.

"Not before you have painted the sands of the Glanduin black with the blood of your kin", Elrond tells him, briefly looking over to the orc whose blade is still at Galadriel's throat. His hand behind his back indicates that you should remain calm. Some of the orcs around you growl.

"My children have endured cruelties your bravest couldn't bear to hear spoken aloud."

"Are you prepared to spend their lives so freely, Adar?", Elrond confronts him, his words sounding accusatory. "Are they?"

Peaking over Elrond's shoulders, you see a clear shift in Adar's face, in his eyes. Apparently Elrond has struck a nerve with his words, the orcs becoming more and more restless as well.

"The ring for Galadriel's life. What is it to be?", Adar once again presents him with the tough decision, to choose, to pick one and let the other down. Before answering, Elrond closely walks past Adar, drawing his attention away from you and what it is he desires most. From your position, you only see Elrond adjusting his cloak before he casts another glance at Galadriel. Their eye contact lasts almost a moment too long before he then returns his attention to her captor.

"Ask me on the field, when the neck with a blade against it is yours", Elrond tells him, his deep voice making it sound like a threat. The orcs around you begin to seethe and snarl again and all of a sudden you are very aware of the dagger strapped to your shin, hidden beneath the leather of your boots.

"Very well. I will meet you there", Adar replies, his voice carrying a tinge of amusement after he gave him a once-over. And for a moment you think he actually agrees, that this decision can be made without shedding any blood, no matter red or black. That is until he finishes his sentence.

"With her head on a pike."

You want to step in, to say something, anything to help get Galadriel and the ring out of here, but you don't even know what. And you don't want to risk putting Elrond in danger by acting rashly. That is why silence ensues for a moment while Adar and Elrond just stare each other down challengingly, neither of them backing down or even thinking about giving in.

"If that is to be the way of things, I should like to bid her farewell", Elrond finally answers him, causing a gasp to escape your lips as you unintentionally take a step forward. But Vorohil stops you by putting his arm out in front of you, preventing you from doing something you might regret later.

You can't believe what you're hearing, what just left Elrond's mouth. Galadriel, on the other hand, seems just about pleased with this decision, because it means that no one will be harmed because of her. At least no one who is currently present in this tent.

To your surprise, Adar grants him this favour and lets him talk to Galadriel one last time. All eyes are on them, but you can't hear what they say to each other; their voices too quiet. You watch in disbelief, however, as Elrond softly touches her face and suddenly leans in to her, connecting their lips in a gentle kiss.

All of a sudden, you find it difficult to breathe. You distinctly feel your heart breaking in two. The tent feels too small, too cramped, and tears well up in your eyes. No longer able to bear the sight, you lower your gaze, clenching your hands into fists at your sides. Although no one should be looking in your direction at this moment, it does not go unnoticed by Adar. He notices the pain in your eyes and in your entire life you have never felt so at the mercy of the enemy as you do right now.

You thought there was something between you and Elrond, a mutual, deep understanding that connected you. When by his side, you felt safe and loved. Until now you thought he returned that feeling and that there could be something more between the two of you, one day.

Apparently you were wrong.

It may have only been a few seconds, but for you it feels like several agonizing minutes before Elrond and Galadriel separate again. As soon as Elrond turns away from her, your eyes meet and a sharp pain ripples through your body, as if someone had stabbed you directly in the chest. Elrond's eyes are sad, suffering almost, and he looks at you with so much pity that you wish to disappear into thin air.

Elrond blinks a few times before making his way straight out of the tent.

"Vorohil. Y/N", he calls out your names, a silent command to follow him. Your gaze meets Adar's again who is watching you with his head tilted as you leave the tent together. You entered it as one, as a unit, but you leave it shattered.

You follow them out, the sun blinding you, but due to the tears you are still trying to hold back you couldn't see much from the beginning anyway. The orcs swarming around you aren't at all helping with the chaos that are your emotions.

You fall behind the two men. As if you were in a tunnel, you hear Vorohil bombarding Elrond with all sorts of questions in the distance. Questions whose answers are no longer important to you.

When they stop in front of you, you almost crash into them, too busy with all the thoughts swirling around in your head.

Was it all just a lie, a plot? Was he just using you to protect the ring? To have someone to sacrifice?

Your common sense tells you that this simply cannot be true, that Elrond has not been leading you astray and that what you feel for him is reciprocated inside of his heart. But your broken heart painfully beats in your chest and tells you something completely different.

You watch as Elrond mounts his horse and gives Vorohil an order, but the words do not reach your ears. You only see him in front of you, a knight in shining white armour, the sight of whom used to give you so much joy, made your heart beat faster and your cheeks blush. In the tent, you were willing to take a blade for him until the very end, but everything is different now.

Elrond's gaze wanders from Vorohil to you and all the sadness from before has disappeared from his face, replaced by a neutral expression. The expression of a warrior on his way into battle.

"Meantime, I will ensure that Eregion's walls hold for one more night", you finally register his words as he looks straight at you. Without another word, he puts on his helmet and rides away. An unspoken order hangs in the air and you swing yourself onto your own horse. After all, he is still your commander, whom you will always follow into battle, come what may.

════════════

Your legs are shaking, your hands sticky, covered in blood and mud. Your movements are shaped by exhaustion. Nevertheless, your blade sinks into the flesh of another orc who falls to the ground with a gurgling sound. With all your strength, you pull out your sword and stumble back a few steps, your gaze wandering over the battlefield in front of you.

Corpses over corpses scatter the ground. Some brave warriors are still fighting against the few remaining orcs, but there is no way out. You have lost, Eregion has fallen. You are shocked to realize that you have lost so many elves today, friends and strangers alike.

This realization hits you with so much force out of nowhere and you collapse to the ground, onto your knees, and let out a scream filled with pain and sorrow and all of your remaining strength. You fought, side by side, and in the end it was all for nothing. The forces of Adar have taken you by surprise and no one was prepared for the chaos that would ensue. Now you find yourself in the mud, surrounded by the dead, the last sounds of battle wafting towards you, and you feel utterly and completely alone.

You lost sight of Elrond since the troll's attack and Arondir is nowhere to be found either. Just thinking of Elrond gives your wounded heart another stab that cannot be compared to any wound inflicted in battle. Ever.

A tear finally finds its way down your cheek, but you are quick to wipe it away with your dirty hand. You can't show weakness, not even now when you feel incredibly overwhelmed. You don't even know if Elrond is still alive, and you scold yourself for still worrying about the man who took your feelings for granted.

But of course you do, you love him.

You don't know if it's the ring still around your neck or your instinct, but something tells you to look toward the fallen walls of Eregion, to get one last look at the once beautiful city. And there you see him.

Elrond.

Kneeling.

In front of Adar.

Without hesitating for even a split second, you gather all your strength and stand up. You approach them quickly and watch as Elrond attacks Adar with his dagger, but Adar parries his attack by violently grabbing his arm. With a whimper, Elrond drops his weapon. You stand still as Adar's hand closes around Elrond's throat and lifts him above the ground, choking him. The sounds that escape from Elrond's mouth will haunt you in your dreams.

"Where is it?!", Adar shouts at him, losing his composure. Elrond's hands claw at his, trying to somehow prie them away, but to no avail. The battle has left Elrond weakened. Adar, on the other hand, seems to have gained more strength from it. At that moment, Elrond spots you, and even though you only look at each other for a second, Adar immediately notices Elrond's shift of attention. He turns his head in your direction, and if you didn't know better, you'd think surprise flashes across his face. Apparently he didn't expect to ever see you again.

"Let him go", you command, your voice trembling and your sword pointing at him.

"Or what?", Adar asks spitefully, raising an eyebrow. Not knowing how to answer, you look at Elrond again.

"G-Go", he chokes out.

You look at him in shock and immediately shake your head. You would never leave him behind. Adar follows this encounter with interest and with a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth when something dawns on him. The next moment, he pushes Elrond to the ground forcefully who desperately gasps for air.

You want to rush to his side immediately, but Adar draws his own sword and pushes the tip directly against Elrond's throat who is still gasping for air and hasn't even managed to sit up.

You freeze when you see blood.

"So that's how it is, I understand", Adar murmurs loudly, seemingly amused by something. Then, he reaches out his open hand towards you, catching you by surprise.

"The ring. Or he's dead."

Your eyes inevitably widen, but you no longer have the strength to put on a mask and hide your true emotions. And in doing so, you put everyone in danger.

"D-Don't listen t-to him", Elrond stutters, his eyes full of terror when he meets your gaze. He is not afraid of dying. He is afraid that the ring will fall into the wrong hands.

You gave him your promise. When you accepted the ring, you simultaneously promised that you would protect it with your life. And you still stand by that.

But right now, this is not about your life.

"Hurry or your sweet commander will soon find it extremely difficult to breathe", Adar threatens and presses his blade even harder into Elrond's skin, making him whimper in pain.

He can't speak anymore because of the life-threatening weapon at his throat, but his tear-filled eyes scream at you not to give in. But how could you not?

You move your lips and form the words 'I'm sorry', but no sound wants to escape your throat, your vocal cords failing terribly.

Lowering your sword dejectedly, you feel for the silver chain around your neck and eventually pull it over your head. Nenya dangles at the end, catching the sunlight that slowly but surely breaks through the clouds. Your hand trembles as you place the ring in Adar's palm, feeling like a failure.

Not just to yourself, but to your entire kind. And above all, to Elrond.

As soon as Adar has the ring in his possession, he removes his sword from Elrond and lets you approach him. You immediately fall to your knees beside him. Elrond gasps for air and coughs repeatedly, his head thrown back in defeat. You support his head with one of your hands, helping him to sit up.

"Forgive me", you sob quietly, but get no answer from him. He watches silently as you are surrounded by orcs who were just waiting to take you as prisoners.

And the whole time you can only think of one thing: You betrayed them all.

════════════

You were about to set out to help her on your commander's orders. But it was already too late. You only saw a white figure falling down the cliffs. Now you're running through the dense forest, searching the ground, looking for a body. Every inch of your own body hurts, the cuts across your face throbbing painfully, but you have to keep going, keep walking just a bit longer, because she could be lying behind the next tree and you would never forgive yourself if you didn't find her.

Taking a break and catching your breath for a second, you lean against a tree, the battle taking a heavy toll on your body and strength. Suddenly you fleetingly notice a white shimmer to your right and run straight towards it, your ribs hurting. You breathe a sigh of relief and, at the same time, shock when you see Galadriel's motionless body on the ground, her arms stretched out at unnatural angles.

Without wasting any time, you rush to her, lifting her head so that you can gently place it on your lap. Loudly, you call out to the others that you have found her.

Her face is covered in soot and blood, her eyes closed. As you look at her like this, you once again realize how truly beautiful she is, even on the treshold to death. Your thoughts make your heart ache deeply, because how could Elrond not take a liking to her?

"They will be here soon", you whisper encouragingly, although you are not even sure she can hear you and your voice sounds anything but heartening. Your gaze lands on a large wound on her shoulder, the source of black streaks that are running across her armour. Carefully, you lift her armour with shaking hands and recoil in shock, as if you burned yourself, when you see a dark mark carved into her skin.

You don't get the chance to think about it any further, however, when Arondir and the High King finally arrive at your side. You let Gil-galad help Galadriel and take a few steps back, giving them enough space. As you do so, a light catches your eye, coming from under a branch. The relief you feel deep inside when you spot Nenya is overwhelming.

The High King tries healing Galadriel with the help of his ring. In Quenya, he orders her to step back into the light and leave the darkness behind her and her soul. With tears in your eyes, you watch as Galadriel takes heaving breaths, her eyes blinking violently, but she doesn't come back. Every passing second, she leaves the light a little more.

When you hear footsteps, running quickly at first and then slowing down abruptly, you don't have to turn around to know that it is Elrond.

"We're losing her", Arondir says and looks around helplessly. You see as much pain in his eyes as is reflected in yours and Elrond’s.

When you look over at Elrond at last, your heart stops beating for a moment. You thought you had already seen him at his lowest, where things couldn't have gotten any worse, completely devastated, but the way he is looking at Galadriel right now convinces you otherwise. The sadness that adorns his battle-torn but still beautiful features brings even more tears to your eyes.

His heart seems broken, crying for Galadriel.

"The darkness is too powerful. I cannot save her", the High King utters in defeat.

Even though it is only for one short moment, you hesitate. You hesitate to give the ring to Elrond, afraid of what might happen then, that your heart will crumble into even more fragile pieces.

"You can", you hear your own voice from afar and give Elrond the ring that you lost earlier. Elrond's eyes suddenly become clearer, brighter as he takes it, feeling it in his palm. But his eyes tell you that he is afraid, too. Afraid that he may not be able to save her. He fears he might lose her.

Gathering all your remaining strength, you force an encouraging smile onto your face, nodding and indicating that he should go to her. Elrond doesn't return your smile, he still looks at you with so much suffering in his eyes, but his facial features are more at ease now as he nods back at you. His way of thanking you.

"We can", he states, to convince himself once again before he puts on the ring.

════════════

You stare at your own reflection, which looks up at you from the quiet water of the river. You dip your fingertips into the water, the waves that result distorting your face. The wounds that covered your face have been cleaned and treated, only slight cuts still visible. There is nothing to do but rest and reflect while everyone waits for Galadriel to awaken.

You are not startled when you suddenly see another reflection, a face above your own, for you have heard him coming.

"Galadriel has awakend", Elrond lets you know and elicits nothing more than a nod from you. "She is up and well."

"I'm glad", you reply and see his brow frowning, his eyes growing sadder in the reflection of his face in the water. Which surprises you in all honesty, because he should be filled with happiness right now. You may have lost the rings for men and many of your elven friends have fallen, but in the end you are alive and safe. Galadriel is safe.

In fact, you admit that you feel relief that she seems to be doing well, but it somehow still hurts just thinking about the kiss they shared.

"May I.. May I have a moment of your time?", Elrond asks you now, after a few seconds of silence, filled only by the chirping of birds and the rustling of the trees around you. This place is truly a sanctuary.

His voice sounds so fragile that you can't help but raise up and turn to him, folding your hands in front of your lower body.

"I bestowed the ring upon you as a token of my faith in you", Elrond explains and you notice from the small wrinkles on his forehead that he is having difficulty finding the right words.

Meanwhile, you just want to leave. You can't listen to him express his disappointment about your actions. After everything that has happened, you're just not strong enough anymore. Your heart is not strong enough.

"I entrusted you with it because I didn't trust myself", he continues, looking into your eyes, but you avert them and focus on the grass on the ground. "Because I knew that, if the situation occurred, I would have acted the same way you did."

A look of surprise crosses your face as you lift your gaze and meet his glistening eyes.

"If the roles had been reversed, I would have given up the ring, too. For your life", Elrond states, his eyes solely focused on yours. "Because when it concerns you, I'm simply too weak. You are my weakness. By giving Nenya to you I thought I could prevent myself from losing it. Instead, I placed the burden upon you."

Your heart beats loudly in your ears, not quite understanding what he is saying.

"But Galadriel-"

"What you saw.. It was a distraction. Galadriel is merely a good friend, whom I love differently", Elrond explains and his voice tells you how sorry he is. "I gave her the pin off my shoulder piece to give her a chance to escape. I couldn't guarantee that it would work, but I took the risk. And I was willing to hurt you by doing so."

He carefully reaches for your hand and you let him take it, continuing to stare at him with glassy eyes as he speaks, your throat dry.

"I am deeply sorry for any pain my actions have inflicted upon you", he apologizes sincerely and lowers his head in regret, some of his brown curls falling into his face. "I couldn't even look at you after that because I could see exactly how badly I had hurt you."

"E-Elrond..", you get out, but you don't even know how to continue or what to say to him. Your emotions are all over the place because you have wanted to hear these words from him for so long, but on the other hand you feel sad because he suffered as well. And if there is one thing you hate more than anything else, it is seeing those you love hurt.

"Another weakness on my part was not telling you about my true feelings earlier. It was unfair since you have always given me nothing but sincerity and affection. My love, I hope you can forgive me and overlook my weaknesses", he says, his voice getting quieter and more humble towards the end, his hand squeezing yours tightly as if you could run away at any moment. What he doesn't know, however, is that with every word he is mending your heart a little bit more.

"I remain hopeful that you will return my love, despite what happened."

He stands before you, probably barely able to stand after days of constant fighting, and pours his heart out to you. He is still in his armour, his face scarred by battle. And you can't help but admire him for it.

Because what he is doing right now is braver than anything he has ever done before.

Without saying a word, you finally pull him towards you and wrap your arms around his neck tightly, his armour pressing against your chest. At first, Elrond didn't expect such a reaction, which is why it takes him a moment until his muscles relax, the burden falling from his shoulders, and his arms sneak around your waist.

"Sometimes I really hate you, Elrond Peredhel", you say against his neck before pulling away from him, hitting his chest plate once to get your point across. Laughing, he takes a step back and protects himself with his arms in front of his chest. You laugh too, but only for a moment until Elrond's smile disappears again as he looks at you.

"Your beauty is truly captivating", he smiles softly and slowly steps closer so that your bodies almost touch. His hand reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your pointed ear as he looks back and forth between your eyes, his fingertip gently running over your skin from your ear to your chin. His touch leaves a trail of warmth. A smile twitches at the corner of your mouth and your gaze wanders to his lips.

The world stands still for a moment, all the events of the last few hours forgotten, banished from your thoughts to enjoy this one moment.

When Elrond's lips gently connect with yours, your patched up heart feels like it's about to jump out of your chest. Elrond's hand on your chin pulls you even closer to him, but he does it in such a gentle way that your cheeks turn red. One of your hands searches for support on his armor because your knees feel like they are about to give in. But you know that Elrond would be there to catch you. Your knight in shining armour.

You never want to stop kissing him. How many times have you dreamed of this moment, imagined what it would be like. All your expectations are being exceeded right now.

When Elrond pulls away from you so you can both catch your breath, he leans his forehead against yours gently. You immediately miss the feeling of his lips on yours.

"My love", Elrond whispers against your skin, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. His cheeks took on a shade of red after the kiss and you are certain that his heart is beating against his armour just as fast as yours. Gently, you cup his heated cheek and run your finger over his skin, being careful not to touch any of his wounds. Then you can't stand it any longer, pull him even closer to you and kiss him again, which elicits a surprised gasp from him. Both of you smile into the kiss as he leans in even more.

If it were up to you, this moment would last forever - just you and Elrond and your love for each other. But you know that this is just wishful thinking, that you have tasks to complete, duties to fulfill. After this moment, the world will continue spinning, wars and battles will be fought, history will be written, but now you know that whatever happens, Elrond is by your side. For eternity.

[tangylemonade]

Family

Pt 2 of No One Else

Jeonghan x afab reader

18+ MINORS DNI (istg 🫵🏾 ಠ_ಠ if I catch you)

Word count: 11.4k

꧁ ☂︎(angst) & ⚠︎(smut) w/ a pinch of ☁︎(fluff) ꧂

🍋’s Queries: Did this fic make you think of a song when you were reading it?

WARNINGS: unprotected sex (don't forget the casing before you stuff your sausage), cursing, mentions/descriptions of abuse/violence, Mafia au, mentions/descriptions of injuries. Jeonghan smokes a bit, talks about having killed someone. Please let me know if I missed anything.

“A liability!” Said Jeonghan’s father, glaring at him as he spoke. “If you are willing to jeopardize a mission then it’s a liability.”

“Everything went well, Father. There was no other way than to kill her.” Jeonghan responded. Forcing himself to remain calm knowing that getting angry would be of no benefit.

He slammed his fist on the table and stood up from his chair, sending it rolling hard into the wall.

“A liability Jeonghan. You deal with it or I do.” He walked to the door.

“Don’t you dare.” Jeonghan said. His voice was serious and cold. It scared him when he heard it.

His father turned around sharply; his hand raised in an angry fist. “Is that a threat boy?”

Without so much as a flinch Jeonghan stared at his fathers angry eyes. Suddenly his father chuckled, clapping Jeonghan on the shoulder.

In his fathers old age he’d become slower and weaker. Jeonghan noticed how the old man's touch didn’t leave behind as much fear. Jeonghan held his place, glaring at his father and maintaining his icy stare.

“Do what you will, boy. But if you ever go against my orders again… you too will be considered a liability. And I never leave loose strings Jeonghan. You know that best of all.”

Jeonghan's father walked out of the room leaving Jeonghan all alone in the dimly lit lavish office to massage his aching shoulder.

His fathers' words echoed heavily in Jeonghan’s mind as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

The woman his father claimed to love. The woman who carried his unborn child. It didn’t matter that what she did was to save her life, and the life of his son. She was a liability, so he dealt with it leaving their prematurely born baby crying and hungry until the maid took pity.

Jeonghan was raised by the head housemaid Kim, living in the servant quarters and only being allowed in the main house to attend lessons and training. He spent his adolescents clawing his way through insults and blows just to prove himself. It wasn't until he was older that he realized he would never be enough and trying so hard wasn't worth it, but by then the damage was done.

He had a bruised ego and a misplaced heart that struggled to tell the difference between right and wrong.

But in this very moment he was certain about one thing. No one was going to lay a finger on you, not even his father.

His clenched fist left cuts in his palms until the sharp pain sobered him. Without another moment wasted Jeonghan left that dreadful house, his heart only steadying once he was in his car driving towards…you.

☾

“Why do you think Boss sent us together?”

Jeonghan paced in boredom smoking his second cigarette as his slightly younger brother Jisoo worked on opening the newest shipments crate.

“He didn’t. I lied.” Jisoo smiled at him, charming as ever. “Why do you still call him boss? You’ve known he was your father for-like-ever.”

Jeonghan angrily stuffed his hands in his pockets. “He’s no father of mine… wait what do you mean you lied?”

Jeonghan kicked at his brother, but he dodged it without even looking and continued his work.

His brother stopped fiddling with the crate he was opening so he could shrug. “I just didn’t want to go alone.”

He then turned to Jeonghan so he could speak to him directly. “I don’t know why you insist on saying that.”

“What? Why wouldn’t I?" asked Jeonghan. He was starting to feel annoyed with his brother's lack of understanding. “You and I both know he only told me because DongYul is a failure.”

His brother’s expression turned serious as he placed his hands on Jeonghan's shoulders. “Don’t speak about DongYul like that. Besides, it does us no good turning against each other. And listen, Father made sure you got the same experiences as us, only now you understand why. Shit man you probably had it better.”

“How so?”

“At least you have Kim. Our mother didn’t even tell us before she left.”

“Well my mother is dead. My *father* killed her, remember?”

Jisoo shrugged.

Jeonghan looked down. Jeonghan wondered if Jisoo could see the glistening in his eyes as they began to sting. He shrugged off his brother's arm in hopes of shaking off the emotions as well.

“Hey, aren’t you glad that finding out about your lineage included the perks of two awesome brothers?” Jisoo said, changing the subject.

Jeonghan scoffed. “DongYul was a piece of shit, Jisoo.”

“He never got over the fact that your mom was the mistress that made our mom leave. He's actually really sensitive, you know?

“Oh Jisoo The Great Defender of The Sad and Sensitive.” Jeonghan said with a condescending bow.

Jeonghan’s experience with his older brother had been nothing short of cruel. If Jisoo hadn’t kept the peace Jeonghan and DongYul probably would’ve killed each other.

Jisoo rolled his eyes at his brother’s dramatics. “I know he wasn’t the kindest to you, but you have no idea what he’s been through.” Jisoo continued. “The things he’s had to do.”

But Jeonghan did know. He knew of the burdens that came with being the eldest son of Yoon DongHan. He was always nearby when Kim would tend to his brothers after training, missions, and… disciplines. He would hear their horror stories as they recounted in jest to distract from the pain, Dong-Yul drinking alcohol to numb it before he was even 15. He learned before anything else that their father tolerated little.

Mr. Yoon would decorate Jeonghan and his brother for even the slightest incompetence. He would always say “You either learn here or you learn out there, and the world is not as forgiving as I am.”

Their father was right. At least he would stop before they died.

DongYul being the eldest was hit with the brunt of responsibility. He was constantly busy with transactions and helping with the many businesses the Yoon family owned. DongHan only recently split the workload between his sons, not out of compassion but rather for efficiency.

But did it really excuse the way DongYul treated him? Did it matter that his brother was in far more pain than he would put Jeonghan through? And most of all… why did Jeonghan miss him?

•••

When Jeonghan opened the door to the cabin a fragrant aroma filled his nose. Looking around he discovered the source, a pot simmering on the stove.

He turned around to find you reclined on the living room couch, your chest rising and falling with each soft breathing you took.

Jeonghan sighed, his hands scrubbing his eyes as if that could rub some sense into his thoughts.

Taking another look, he picked up a blanket from nearby to drape over you. He hesitated as his eyes took you in up close. There you laid in only panties and one of his white tees that were practically see through. It was hot in the living room and the thin sheen of sweat on your visible skin made it seem as if you were glowing under the warm light.

Smiling, he discarded the blanket and went to turn on the fan.

The noise of the appliance was enough to startle you awake causing you to slide right off of the couch. But before you could hit the ground Jeonghan reached out, catching your body in his arms.

“Careful now.” Jeonghan's voice fell soft against the pounding of your heart in your ear drum.

“Sorry.” You mumbled as you fixed your (his) shirt and sat up straight. “When did you get here?”

You had been in Jeonghan's little secret cabin for a couple weeks now, so things naturally began to slip into a rhythm. Jeonghan would visit in the daytime a few times a week and never stayed the night so you couldn't help but wonder what he was doing here.

“Just now.” He said standing and heading upstairs.

Scurrying to the kitchen you turned off your stew and then walked upstairs after him.

“Are you staying long? I made dinner and it just finished so I'm about to eat.”

His room door was open, so you stepped in while you continued to speak. “Good thing you showed up or I might have burned the house down. I knew that book was too boring, but I wanted to give it a fair shot, you know? Next thing I knew I was…sleeping...” Your voice disappeared as your eyes laid on Joenghans naked form.

He stood there relaxed and unbothered by your intrusion only raising an eyebrow before continuing to undo the clasp of his watch.

You quickly turned around in shame. Before you could slip out of the room, he called your name, and you froze in place.

“Oh- the door was open- I'll just...” You started to walk out again when Jeonghan called out.

“Wait. Help me with this.”

Assuming he meant the watch he was just struggling with you answered quickly. “Of course.’

Trying your best to angle your eyes upwards you turned around and began walking towards him only to be stopped in your tracks once again.

His watch laid neatly on his bed and his hands were busy stroking the semi-hard on he was now sporting.

“If you’re gonna walk around like that you could at least have the decency to help me out.”

You looked down at your thin clothes and wanted to perish on the spot.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight. If you called, I would’ve put on more clothes.”

“Well then, my apologies.” Jeonghan said incredulously in that nonchalant way that you recently discovered made you see red.

“What do you think I-“

“Follow me.” He said firmly, cutting you off and walking towards his bathroom.

You stood there defiantly. What did he think this was? Did he really think you were just going to listen to him? You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. He is just so…so…. ugh. Does he really think you were just at his beck and call?

But weren't you?

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. And it wasn’t the first time you’d helped him out.

Your voice of reason screamed at you as you walked into the bathroom.

The shower was already on, and you could hear a soft grunt coming from behind the curtain.

Your heart pounded through your body as you once again vacillated between your choices.

‘Fuck it.’

You quickly strip before carefully sliding the curtain over. His back was turned to you, his head under the shower as he slowly pumped into his fist. If he noticed, you entering the shower he made no show.

Standing closer to him one arm wrapped around him, resting on his stomach, while the other steadied the hand that he stroked himself with. He relinquished his cock to you, his tired body instantly leaning back into your embrace. His eyes shut contently as your soft hands enveloped him.

Pumping faster and faster you pleasured him until his hot seed coated your hand and the shower wall. Still leaning against he let both of your arms wrap around him, one hand resting on his heart and feeling the slowing rise and fall of his chest as the water splattered against your bodies.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly. You wanted to savor the moment, but his abnormal behavior was making you worried. Normally after he’d finish, he would simply clean up and leave. But today he didn't move, his heart still pounding.

Jeonghan didn’t respond. Instead, he turned around pressing you against the shower wall, his knee pressing into your swollen core before moving over to spread your legs.

His calloused fingers wrapped around your neck with gentle pressure, his lips hungry attaching to yours. The kiss was fiery and urgent, his teeth pulling your bottom lip and drawing blood that you tasted on his tongue as he slid it into your mouth. His free hand wandered your body squeezing and kneading your flesh with gusto. The wayward hand eventually found purchase on your hips, holding them in place as he unceremoniously pushed inside of you.

Your vision blurred as the pain stretched into pleasure, his size pushing deeper into your hot and wet cunt.

Jeonghan groaned into your neck in between sucking harsh bruises into the sensitive skin. Without giving you any more time to adjust he thrusted again, this time coaxing tears from your eyes and his name moaned from your swollen lips. His strokes were quick and angry, but you could feel the tension in his body begin to dissolve. With now slower movements you were able to match his pace with the rocking of your hips. It wasn't long before you were both falling apart, his arms holding you in place as your exhaustion took over.

After showering off and helping you to do the same, Jeonghan pulled you to his bed. You didn't let your bafflement stop you from laying with him and allowing him to rest on your bosom, his arms holding you close.

“Jeonghan…” You softly ran your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp the way you always did after at some point realizing it always relaxed him.

He softly shushed you, his voice thick with exhaustion. “This is nice.”

He was right. This was so nice it hurt. You knew it wouldn't last. A relationship without honesty is destined to fail.

Nevertheless, you selfishly savored the moment, holding him tighter as if it would keep him with you forever. But Jeonghan was gone when you woke up.

Getting up you brushed your teeth and examined your skin in the mirror. The bruises that were kissed into your skin last night and the previous nights now took the place of your old ones that were filled with the haunting memories of your capture. You briefly wondered if that had been his intention before shaking the thought away and getting dressed.

Downstairs there was a simple breakfast on the table for you of toast and eggs. You poured yourself some water, ignoring the food and going back to bed.

☾

Laying in his bed Jeonghan looked at your soft and warm bare body sleeping soundly beside him. His fingers gingerly traced your skin as he breathed in your heavenly scent. Although his heart knew you were safe besides him, his mind still tormented him with the images of you the night he found you. Paranoia forced him to watch over you even though he knew you were safe and sound.

He had killed Stella himself. It wasn’t the first life he’d taken. But it was the first he’d wanted to take. His first kill that was not an order.

When he saw her crouching over your bloodied body… the wicked smile on Stellas face when she saw Jeonghan was the last moment before... he snapped.

The memory of it all played through his mind time and again. He was supposed to bring her in, there were still assets to recover and accomplices only she knew the location of now gone forever.

But Jeonghan didn't hesitate until he was holding you in his arms again.

He did it for you. He did it for…Dongyul.

His eldest brother had been his biggest enemy growing up. But now…it all felt so insignificant.

DongYul who craved compassion his whole life was met with the harsh glares of his father and even harsher blows. Like a moth to flame Stella was intoxicating for him. Despite Jisoo's pleading words he would run to her, taking comfort in the lies she wrapped him in.

Only a few months ago he’d busted into Jeonghan's room, rage burning in his blown-out pupils. But Jeonghan didn't fear him anymore. He stood up looking his brother who no longer towered over him in the eyes.

“Get out.” Jeonghan said calmly and was met with rough hands on his collar.

DongYul reeked of alcohol and his tank top allowed Jeonghan a view of the needle marks that decorated his skin.

“DongYul! What is this!” Jeonghan grabbed his brother's arm, ignoring his brother's aggression. “What were you thinking?”

His concern for his brother surprised them both.

“Save it!” Dongyul growled. He shrugged Jeonghan’s hand from his arm before letting go of his collar.

“What do you even know? You just lay around while everything gets handed to you.’ His voice was bitter and angry.

He pushed Jeonghan hard and Jeonghan stumbled back, banging his head on the wall. Securing his footing, he prepared himself for a fight, but DongYul only sat on the bed, burying his face in his hands.

“You won Jeonghan… you can have it all…but I need her.” His brother's voice was slow and slurred now.

“What do you mean?” Jeonghan asked as you rubbed his now pounding head.

���Kim…Jisoo…S-Stella…” his brother mumbled as he continued to sink as if he weighed a ton.

“…DongYul” Jeonghan began as he walked towards his distressed family member. “I'll call Jisoo… we can help you whatever it is.”

His brother stood up suddenly on shaky legs. “It's too late. I screwed up big time.’

He’d never seen his brother who didn't even flinch while getting stitched up this…broken.

It petrified him.

“Sit here, I'll go get you some water and find Jisoo. Please…we can fix this.”

Jeonghan carefully sat his brother down. Taking his compliance as an agreement Jeonghan rushed to get their youngest brother and grabbed a bottle of water before hurrying back.

But Dongyul was gone.

Unable to look inside his casket, that night was the last time Jeonghan saw his older brother. A raid on what was meant to be a routine weapon exchange ended as a bloody massacre that killed almost ½ of father's men…including his eldest son.

On the night of his eldest son's funeral Mr. Yoon called Jeonghan into his office.

“It’s about time you start taking on more responsibilities as a member of this family. Not just trades, there is more important business for you to attend to.”

Jeonghan did even know why he was shocked; this was exactly like with father. But it still made bile rise in his throat.

“The soil hast even settled yet…’

“As my eldest son I expect you to know your place.’ He cut Jeonghan off without even looking up from the work at his desk. “Don’t become foolish like your brother. And don’t be a coward like your wench of a mother.” He said before waving his hand, ending the conversation and sending Jeonghan away.

“Don't speak about my mother like that!” Jeonghan said without control. Normally he wouldn’t speak back after being dismissed.

His fathers glare wasn't enough to make him back down.

“Do not overstep, boy. I suggest you learn your place before you end up learning it like her. I told you already, I clean up my own messes.”

He looked up at Jeonghan with dark eyes that shone like the devils in the dim light of his office.

Jeonghan used all of his strength to calmly walk away. He shut the door before racing to his bathroom and hurling in the toilet. Kim, who had heard of his meeting with his father from Jisoo, came to check on him.

“Oh dear.” She said when she found him leaning against the bathtub.

She left and returned with tea before sitting next to jeonghan on the bathroom floor where he layed, tears angrily falling from his eyes.

“Did you know?” He asked quietly.

“Know what darling?” Her soothing voice did nothing to calm the turmoil Jeonghan was feeling.

Jeonghan looked at her with tearful eyes. “Did you know that that monster killed my mother?”

Kim could only nod.

She wiped his tears as her own began to fall. “I watched it happen...”

Jeonghan sat up and looked at the woman who his heart now broke for.

Kim had raised him as her own after having a stillbirth only a week before his birth. To her it was meant to be. When the other maids all cowered in fear she stepped up taking the shivering baby in her arms and wrapping him tightly in her sweater. Her body that had been preparing to be a mother fell right into step as she fed and held him close while she worked.

Although that period in her life was hard to look back on, she still felt Jeonghan should know so she held his hand as she spoke.

“Your father would have done anything for your mother. He was crazy for her, but he wasn’t careful. It didn’t take long before one of his many enemies had her. She was young, pregnant, and… so scared. Then one day she was back. She said they got lazy, that she had escaped while they were distracted.’

Kim paused to swallow the lump in her throat.

“You don't have to tell me.” It disturbed Jeonghan to see her struggling.

Kim shook her head and continued.

“She used to always hang around smiling and chatting with the workers but she wouldn't leave her room. One night she called for me and the state she was in scared me half to death. She was all panicky and high on whatever they had given her while she was there. That night she broke down and told me that she gave them information in exchange for her freedom. She loved your father but she didn’t fear him…and that was her downfall. Then I found out that she wasn't the one who called for me. When she wouldn't talk to him, he knew she would talk to me. He killed them and then he…”

Kim couldn't continue, her sobs swallowing her words. Jeonghan could only hold her as heartbroken tears spilled from her eyes.

☾

Waking up you stretched out as you always did, this time your arm knocking into something. Opening your eyes you turned over quickly to find Jeonghan laying in your bed next to you. He stirred before opening his eyes.

“You’re still here?” You asked in surprise.

“Ouch.” Jeonghan chuckled and propped himself on his elbow, looking down at you with a smile.

“No no, I didn’t mean it like that.” You said, sitting up and turning towards him. “It’s just that you’re normally gone by morning.”

He nodded at you but his eyes seemed distant.

“What is it?” You asked scooting closer to him.

“It’s been over a month and yet no one has come asking about you.”

“Wasn't that the point?’ you snipped back, pulling your knees to your chest and burying your head in your arms.

You felt his arm on your shoulder causing warmth to spread through you but you shrugged his hand away. You were starting to feel aggravated with him.

“What are you getting at anyway Jeonghan?”

“Well…if I kept you here forever no one would even care.”

Your eyes welled with tears as you looked at him in horror.

“What the hell is wrong with you!”

Jeonghan instantly noticed the heartbreak in your voice.

“I didn't mean it like that i-”

You stood up now, grabbing the robe that hung beside your bed and covering yourself with it.

He pulled himself to the edge of the bed and grabbed your arm.

Your view of him began to blur and your breathing came quickly. His arms were around you fast, pulling you towards him and holding you tightly.

“I promised to keep you safe.” He whispered to you.

“…This…this isn't living, Jeonghan. I’m going crazy. Trapped here as you come and go. You hardly speak to me. When I wake up, you’re gone and then I'm left here feeling used and …all alone.”

He sat there quietly holding on to you.

Feeling dejected from his lack of response you started to free yourself from his grasp. “Never mind.”

“At 7 years old I’d gotten my first broken bone. Training, my father called it. Preparation. My leg still hurts when it rains.”

You stilled in his arms as you listened.

“He used to make us spar. The winner was whoever was still conscious. Loser was locked in the penalty box without food and water for a few days. He chose the number in pair with your level of failure.”

The way he spoke was so indifferent as if he was simply recounting tales of a grocery store run instead of years of abuse. Turning on his lap so that you were facing him you held his face in your hands.

“Then run away with me. We don't have to live like this.” Your face was inches from his as your lips hovered together. Holding your hand he stroked your knuckles. “We can leave this all behind and never look back.”

You felt Jeonghan’s lips smiling against your cheek where he kissed your hot tears away.

“Don’t be so naive.”

His words cut through you like daggers.

You pulled back, searching his soft eyes for answers that they never gave.

“I told you all of that so you can understand how I was molded. So you can understand that all reality with me in it will never be peaceful.”

“Jeonghan-“ your voice broke.

“Have you ever taken a life before?” He asked so quietly you nearly missed it.

“N-no.”

“You can never understand how silly you sound at this moment.”

Frowning at him you hit his chest. “Don't you patronize me.”

He grabbed your wrist so tightly it hurt a bit.

“Let me go Yoon Jeonghan.”

His gaze lost its softness as it pierced through you, but you didn’t back down.

“You wouldn’t last a day in my world.” He said, his voice bitter and harsh.

Pulling your wrist from his grip you fixed him with your own icy gaze.

You began to move again but this time his hand on your hips secured you against him.

You frowned at him. “I said let me go!”

“Stay.” He said softly. “I need you to stay.”

You felt the fight deflating from you, only exhaustion remained. “I’m suffocating, Jeonghan.”

He rubbed circles into your hips, his voice soft and low. “Without you it's all unbearable.”

How did he know just what to say to you? Your heart was racing and your skin felt clammy and hot.

No! You can’t live like this. This isn't living.

But were you okay with never seeing him again? Never feeling his warmth? Never tasting him?

Holding your face, Jeonghan roughly pulled you closer to him, placing a hot kiss on your lips. He was fiery and addicting. Your answer was clear.

“No.” You whispered, gently pulling away although it pained you. “I won’t be your pet, I can't.”

This time when you went to stand, he didn't hold on, his arms fell to his sides dejected.

Backing away from him slowly you turned around and began picking your clothes off the floor.

“Either you take me home or I find my own way.”

Jeonghan didn’t call out for you or plead. He only nodded before walking out. After a few minutes you heard his car start.

Nothing here was yours so you quickly dressed before leaving.

☾

“Get your ass up!” Jisoo yelled, kicking Jeonghan in his side. We have to go check the shipment today and Father is starting to notice that you haven’t been showing up to meetings.”

Jeonghan groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head. His brother hit him again and ripped the blanket away.

“I’m serious dude. And I still need to vet a new treasurer because the last one was skimming whom I had to handle last night BY MYSELF. I’m tired of covering for your ass.” He walked out screaming “I swear to you Jeonghan I will come back with a taser.” Before shutting the door behind him.

As much as Jeonghan wanted to punch his brother he knew he was right, so he begrudgingly got up and got ready. Walking into the kitchen he stopped short when he saw his father seated at the kitchen table.

“You still follow around Kim like a blind puppy.”

Jeonghan angrily pulled out a chair, sitting down across from his father.

“I live here, remember.” He grumbled as he poured himself a cup of tea. His appetite was gone at the sight of his father.

“Yes, well I expect you in the main house by the end of the week.”

“What! Why?” Jeaonghan was completely caught off guard.

“It’s time you stop lazing around and get to some real work.” With that his father stood and headed out the door showing that his word was final.

Jeonghan slammed his cup down, breaking off the handle and spilling tea on the side of the table.

“Oh my.” Kim said, suddenly in the kitchen and rushing to clean the spill. “And I really liked that set.”

Jeaonghans mood relaxed as he looked at Kim's somber expression.

He knew she had hundreds of teas sets all around this house, all which she called her favorite.

He gently held her hand and she leaned down into a hug.

A quiet sob shook her shoulders.

Jeonghan knew as well that his world would change completely once, he left. Even in Kim’s warm embrace he still felt the weight of his father's expectations on his already heavy soul.

☾

Trying to get back into the swing of life proved to be as difficult as you’d expected. Eventually you got the strength to go and collect your things from work. You realized that it wouldn't be appropriate to ignore any more of your bosses' calls, the final one saying that your things were going to be disposed of if you didn’t come for them, by the end of the week.

There was nothing important there, but you went and got it anyway. You tried to smile and ignore the concerned questions and glances of your ex-coworkers, but they still bothered you. If only they knew how right, they were to worry for you.

You spent the rest of the day outside just roaming around aimlessly. Your house felt so small and lonely. Once the sun had set you forced yourself to go back home.

Walking into your house you placed your box of your things on the counter instantly reaching for the bottle of wine you’d left there this morning. You felt around but when you still couldn’t find it you sighed and turned on the light.

Frozen in terror your brain rushed through all of its possible escape options as your eyes looked to the stranger that was sitting at your dining room table sipping your wine.

“You know I’ve never drank the cheap stuff before, but this really isn't half bad.”

He took another swig before flashing you a charming and all too familiar smile.

“Are you Jeonghan’s brother?” You asked, your hands reaching for your keys. You remembered Jeonghan mentioning his siblings, but you couldn't remember their names.

“Astute.” He said without a genuine smile. “But not smart if you think those keys will do anything other than piss me off.”

The man stood up and walked towards you, stopping before he got too close. “My name is Jisoo. I come in peace.” He showed you his empty hands before putting up two peace signs and waving them at you with a goofy smile.

“I’m here to offer you a job opportunity.”

........

"Okay."

"Seriously?" Jisoo asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

It only took a moment after he had explained what it was that he was offering you before you agreed. you weren't entirely sure why it felt so easy to say yes but you didn't question it at al.

You knew that you were absolutely crazy to say yes to Jisoo. The new treasurer for one of the biggest gangs on this side of the country.

“It will require you to move.” Jisoo said, still a little surprised by how quickly you agreed.

“Sure. no problem.”

Jisoo only shrugged before scribbling his information on a napkin.

“Call me when you’re ready.”

With that he downed the last of the wine, gave you a wink, and walked out of the door leaving you drowning in your thoughts.

☾

You periodically dried your hands on your jeans while clutching onto your duffel bag.

All that you'd packed fit only in one duffle bag. Has your life really been that small?

“You’re a pretty one.” Jisoo said, looking at you instead of the road.

You returned his comment with a frown. “Pardon?”

“You know I didn't really get a good look at you before because your house was all dark and depressing but now, I can see why Jeonghan has been all screwed up.”

Jeonghan hadn’t even so much as tried to contact you since your last interaction. Hearing Jisoo's words made your heart constrict. Was Jeonghan feeling just as shitty as you were?

The Yoon house was more like that of a palace. Now parked, you tilted your head to see the top of the huge building through the car window.

“Beautiful isn’t it.” Jisoo said, stepping out of the car. “You’ll be working in the main house, but your room will be in the servants' quarters…which is this way.” He grabbed your bag from you and walked away leaving you no choice but to follow him.

“Don’t worry, it’s also very nice.”

He was right. Although the servant quarters were significantly smaller than the main house it was still beautiful and grand.

You followed him inside and he led you past the kitchen and into a spacious and elegantly furnished bedroom.

“You’re free to use anything in this house. This is your room. I’ll call you to the main house when you have business to attend. For now, just get settled and comfortable.”

You looked around the room taking in the beautiful layout when a familiar small frame peaked into the room with a warm smile.

“Oh, and this is the head maid-“

“Kim!” You said excitedly. You ran to her and gave her a hug, her arms wrapping around you warm and welcoming like soup for your tired soul.

Even though you only saw her a few times she already felt so familiar, causing a breath of relief to wash over your anxious mind.

“I see you've met already.” Jisoo said but was ignored as you and Kim caught up with each other. “Well since you’re in good hands I’m gonna head out ... .aaand I’m invisible.”

Jisoo shook his head and walked out of the room.

“Oh darling, it's lovely to have you here.” Kim said holding your hands. “Now I can have someone to talk to.”

“Aren’t there other house workers?”

“Oh, there are plenty. But none of them are like you” She winked at you with a smile that you couldn’t help returning. “These workers come and go so often I stopped bothering with anything more than pleasantries. But I have a feeling that you and I darling are going to be great friends.”

It felt nice to know there was someone around that you felt you could trust and rely on.

•••

By now you had been in and out of the house plenty of times as you get acquainted with their records and logbooks that you needed for work. And yet… you still had not run into Jeonghan. Was he avoiding you?

You rolled your eyes as you packed your things and headed back to the servants' quarters. What would you even say if you saw him?

It was late and you had been working all day trying to sort the mess of files Jisoo had dumped on you. The last guy really did a number on them and Jisoo wanted it fixed as quickly as possible. You wondered what happened to the last treasurer but ultimately decided to shake off the thought. ‘Best not to over think.’ You told yourself.

After a long hot shower, you still weren’t in the least bit sleepy. Insomnia was wrapping its cold fingers around you and it was starting to become more and more exhausting. With a sigh you put on your pajamas and made your way to the kitchen to brew yourself some tea.

You brought some files back with you to sort and review while you sat down and sipped on your tea. Preoccupied and completely engrossed in your work, you didn't notice the gentle sound of the door opening and shutting.

“Kim?” A voice softly whispers as a familiar frame creeped into the dim kitchen.

You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Turning around quickly your eyes landed on the slender man that stood before you. Even after months apart your treacherous heart remembered the dance it did just for him.

“Y/n!” Jeonghan looked truly shocked, his eyes wide with confusion.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. “Jisoo said you live in the main house.”

“I was looking for- wait shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

You shrugged. “I live here. I’ve been working as your treasurer for a bit now. Didn’t Jisoo tell you?”

“No… he didn’t.” Jeonghan said a little distractedly. “You shouldn't read in such dim lighting.”

He went and turned on a light that was on the side of a cabinet, filling the room with a bright glow.

“So that’s where that was. I couldn't find it and just gave up.”

“You could've asked someone.”

“Everyone is sleeping.”

You both fell into an awkward silence as you looked everywhere but at each other.

“Uhm…Do you want some tea?” You asked. You smiled timidly and you saw his body relax a bit.

Jeonghan carefully pulled out and sat in the chair right next to you.

You got up, grabbed another cup and poured Jeonghan a cup of tea, placing it in front of him.

In the time it took you he was already flipping through your papers only taking a pause to taste the tea.

“This is good.” He said, taking another sip. “Where’d you buy it?”

“Thank you, I mixed it myself. Please don’t mess with my papers.” You quickly gathered up your papers from where he had moved them in front of him. “I’m trying to sort them and you’re making a mess.”

You reached for the papers in his hand, but he smiled and pulled them out of your reach.

“That’s really mature Jeong- '' as you reached for the paper you slipped and fell into him, his arm wrapping securely around you and holding you close.

With Jeonghan's close proximity all but your beating heart had abandoned you. In a stupor you allowed his warm lips to wrap around yours, tasting as sweet as you remembered them.

You pulled away with hot tears suddenly spilling from your eyes.

“Absolutely not Yoon Jeonghan.” you stood and backed away from him, his face blurring in your eyes.

“Y/N…”

The way his voice called your name was deadly for your health.

“I told you already. I’m not your plaything.”

He stood up now, reaching out for your hand but you swiftly pulled away as you took another step back.

“I hate feeling used. My whole life… never again.”

He walked closer and his darling scent filled your nose. Green tea and cigarettes… and liquor. You hadn’t taken notice before but… had he been drinking?

He reached out again but this time you stayed still, allowing his calloused hands to softly hold your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks and swiping away your tears.

In the next moment you were watching his back as he left you feeling confused and …tired. You cleaned up and went to bed falling asleep as soon as your head touched the pillow.

•••

“Jisoo you piece of shit.”

“Good morning to you too. I'm a little busy right now.”

He gestured to the moaning mound underneath his covers, no doubt his flavor of the week.

“The new treasurer. Jisoo what the fuck?!”

“Oh, so you’ve met her.”’ He placed his hand on the mound, stopping the movement as he looked up at Jeonghan’s angry face. “I thought I told her not to come over without telling me?”

“I ran into her last night when I went to check on Kim.”

“Good god, Father is right, you do follow her around like a puppy.”

“Don’t you ever quote that dick head to me again.” Jeonghan’s voice came low and serious.

“Okay okay calm down. What happened to you? You used to be so chill? Listen, you know Father hates distractions. Don’t give him a reason to think Kim or Y/N are, okay?”

Jeonghan felt true horror at what Jisoo was insinuating. He knew that his brother was right.

Jeonghan leaned against the wall feeling deflated and dizzy with anger.

“How did you find Y/N anyway?”

“Seriously?” Jisoo asked sarcastically. “Super sexy by the way.”

He followed the last sentence with a smirk that was met with Jeonghan’s furious glare.

“Oh relax. You’re no fun anymore.” Jisoo said dismissing Jeonghan’s attitude with the wave of his hand. “Listen Jeonghan, brother to brother, you need to get your shit together before Father does it for you. I can assure you he won't be as careful about it as you. Now get the fuck out of my room.”

Jeonghan left without another word, the moaning starting up again before he closed the door. He knew his brother was right, it was time to pull his head out of the sand.

☾

In a job like Jeonghan’s there was always something that needed to get done. The bigger you are the less people think you notice. Unfortunately for them you don’t grow from the lack of concern, there are eyes everywhere.

As Mr. Yoon got older his lifestyle allowed him more youth than his peers but alas age was catching up on him. That meant the Jeonghan and Jisoo's responsibilities were increasing 10-fold.

In a family like the Yoon's where they didn’t take the easy way out through human and drug trafficking business management was important. Jeonghan's job tonight was dealing with an overzealous CEO of one of their liquor companies who was brave enough to start a slush fund.

Thanks to their new and ever so clever treasurer a lot of those kinds of parasites were coming to the surface.

Jeonghan wished the man had just chosen the easy way but irrational and crazy was always the theme. Father always told them that if someone started a fight it didn't end until one of you was dead. Even though the ass hole had gotten a few good slices in, Jeonghan had been the victor.

Coming home tired and exhausted he just wanted to shower and… see you. Wracking his brain for an excuse to visit the servant quarters he pulled off his bloodied shirt and headed to his room. A light peaked through the cracks of a study room door and Jeonghan figured Jisoo was working late. As he walked closer to check in on his brother when a familiar laugh filled his ears.

Suddenly high alert he crept closer, his back to the wall as he listened in.

“No no, those don’t go over there Jisoo!” Your voice came like honey to his ears. “You’re not helping.” There was that laugh again cutting through Jeonghan more than the tussle earlier that night had.

“Whatever you say Madam. I’ll just sit here and watch you work your magic.” Jisoo’s voice was coated in honey as he laughed along with Y/N.

‘What’s even so funny?’ Jeonghan grumbled quietly to himself. He took a deep breath before opening the door and casually strolling into the room. He saw red when his eye landed on you sitting crossed legged on the table in a tank top and shorts as Jisoo leaned over your shoulder reading the paper in your hands.

Jisoo looked up first, a smile playing on his lips when he spoke. “Well, you look like shit.”

You looked up, your face crumbling with concern the moment your eyes met with Jeonghan’s battered body.

He had a bloody shirt in his hands and fresh cuts on his slim frame, the biggest of which was still bleeding through the bandage that was haphazardly wrapped around it.

“Thanks.” Jeonghan said sarcastically to his brother before throwing the shirt at him and sitting down on the chair near the wall. His hair fell into his face but the shadows draping around him couldn’t hide the bags under his sleepy eyes. Jisoo blocked the shirt, and it fell with a wet thud to the floor.

“Gross! This isn't all your blood, is it?” Jisoo wined, wiping his hands on his pants.

The urge to brush his silky hair aside and hold him to your chest was so all-consuming it made you feel nauseous.

“You could’ve helped me, you know.” Jeonghan continued to his brother, completely ignoring you.

“Serves you right after the shit I did for you.” Jisoo retorted, still wiping his hands in disgust before smiling smugly at Jeonghan. “Besides I knew you could handle it, and I had to keep my new friend company.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder, giving a squeeze and smiling down at you.

“Eww, don’t touch me with those hands!” You laughed and brushed Jisoo's hand away before quickly looking at Jeonghan and catching something flicker across his face that left as quickly as it came.

“Well.” Jeonghan said standing and walking to the door. “Don’t work too hard, I’m going to bed.”

The moment he shut the door behind him you hopped down from the table, giving a good stretch before you began stacking your papers.

“Well, I better go before it gets too late.” You said with a shy smile as you suddenly felt awkward.

“Booo, you guys are boring.” Jisoo leaned against the table, his eyes watching you as you gathered your things. “You know there’s no point ignoring him if you're waiting around for him anyway.”

“What?” You looked up at Jisoo's' bored expression.

“Sleep with me.”

You searched his face for something to tell you he was joking, rolling your eyes in frustration when you found nothing of the sort.

“Both of you are so…so…ugh” You gave up with an exasperated sigh as you finished picking up your things.

“I'm just saying…” Jisoo began with his hands up defensively. “If you don’t want to sleep with me you must still want to sleep with him. So why are you giving each other the cold shoulder?”

“Oh my- good night, Jisoo.” Waving goodbye, you left the room in a huff.

Jisoo was crazy just like his brother. Crazy and annoyingly right. But you didn’t need Jeonghan’s handsome and extremely slutty younger brother to tell you you still wanted Jeonghan.

After a quick shower and a cup of tea you found yourself tossing and turning in bed as you thought about that man who plagued your heart.

Was he okay? Those cuts looked pretty bad. And he was still bleeding. Did he need help?

You groaned in frustration holding your pillow over your head. What even was your life?

Jeonghans shower proved difficult with open wounds. Most of the blood on his body wasn’t his so he couldn't bear another moment longer with it on his skin. Struggling to wash his hair with his sore arms proved drying as completely impossible. Only having the energy to pull on pants he flopped on the floor and leaned his head back, his damp hair leaving a wet spot on his blanket.

Drifting off he figured he had imagined the gentle rapping on his door but when it came again, he got up and took a look.

“Y/N!” He said in disbelief. “How did you find my room?

“Jisoo told me.”

You didn’t wait for him to let you in, pushing past him you hurried through the door in fear of being spotted. You carefully placed the bag of things you brought for him against the wall. “I wanted to see if you needed help.”

He was quiet for a moment, carefully letting the situation flip around in his head before speaking.

“Well…my hair is still pretty wet…”

You nodded and headed straight for his bathroom finding the blow dryer abandoned on his sink counter.

Finding an outlet near his bed you sat down before gesturing for him to come.

He silently sat between your legs with his back leaning against his bed, his head resting on your stomach.

Your thigh was soft and warm against his arm as your fingers delicately combed through his hair as the warm air blew.

Feeling completely relaxed the moment passed too quickly for Jeonghan and he found himself wishing he never replaced his broken dryer that barely worked.

He felt disappointed as you stood but you only picked up the bag you brought with you and pulled out a first aid kit and a canteen.

Walking towards him you placed the canteen on his nightstand and sat down next to him on the floor.

“These don’t look like they need stitches, but I’ll ask Kim to check in the morning. For now, I’ll clean and bandage them, okay.”

All Jeonghan could do was nod as your soft fingers tenderly cared for him. You finished quickly and once again he found himself feeling ridiculous as he wished that he’d taken a few more cuts in the fight.

You sitting so close to him left him feeling incomprehensibly ravenous.

Your body felt a shift in the atmosphere, so you quickly stood up and scurried to the door. You feared your own treacherous desires in his presence.

“There is some porridge in there for you. I can’t promise it’s good, but it is still warm.” With that you grabbed your bag and slipped through the door shutting it silently behind you.

You came and left like a breeze leaving Jeonghan to wonder if maybe he’d imagined it all. But the still warm container of porridge on his nightstand and that sweet scent of you that lingered in the air told him that it had all been true.

Each bite made him more tired than the next, but he forced his eyes open as he finished the savory meal you prepared for him. Feeling peacefully warm he slipped under his covers and fell fast asleep.

You quietly cleaned up the kitchen, apologizing to the workers who were just getting in for the noise before going upstairs to your room and slipping into bed. Flashes of earlier flooded your thoughts but it wasn’t long before you were fast asleep.

☾

The ringing blare of the main house sirens alerted you awake. Quickly jumping from your bed, you ran from your room only to be swept in the crowd of staff that were rushing from the house. Once outside and still in a daze you stopped in your tracks and looked up in terror.

People crashed into you as you watched the huge dark gray bellow of smoke that rose from the main house. An entire wing was engulfed in bright orange flames. Someone knocked into you hard causing you to fall to the ground. The wet earth seeped through your thin nightwear as you watched staff rush to set up the hoses to the water lines. Finally snapping out of your stupor you pulled yourself up and rushed to help.

When the fire was gone, and the commotions died down the silence settled like the embers that lightly fizzled out in the damp grass. The news traveled fast amongst the staff in waves of shock and horror.

Mr. Yoon was dead.

While his sons were away on a mission someone had killed him and set his mansion wing ablaze. Carefully trekking through the rubble a few of his men retrieved his body.

The funeral was private with Yoon DongMin’s place of rest being somewhere only his sons knew.

Every day following the house was quiet and somber as the brothers worked tirelessly in search of the culprit.

Some nights they would walk through the door of the servant quarters with exhaustion slowed steps and blood splattered across their clothing. It wasn't sadness that fueled their restless hours, it was pride and principle.

“It doesn't make sense!” Jisoo yelled, kicking over the chair beside him.

You looked up from the files you were tirelessly pouring over every night to get their business affairs in order after their fathers passing.

Jeonghan ran his hands through his hair in equal frustration. He took another drag from his cigarette, but it didn't calm him.

“How could someone not only sneak into our high security house but also find Fathers room and catch him off guard enough to slit his throat!” Jisoo was pacing now as he spoke.

“Maybe it's someone he knew?” Jeonghan said pensively. “A prostitute? A set up?”

Jisoo shook his head. “He would never let his guard down like that. And also, how would they know the layout enough to shut off both our main and backup cameras.”

“An inside job?” you threw out into the conversation.

“We question everyone with that level of clearance…extensively.'' Jeonghan said, flexing his fingers to soothe the aching of his bruised knuckles.

“We've all got a shareholders meeting in the morning and you guys are beyond exhausted.” You said soothingly. “Let's all get some rest and regroup tomorrow.”

“You're right.” Jisoo mumbled, suddenly aware of his exhaustion.

The boys had been sleeping in the servants' quarters recently for safety measures so Jisoo tiredly trudged to his room and shut the door.

After you were done packing your things away you turned to Jeonghan who hadn't budged from his chair.

“Do you want me to put on some tea?” you whispered with a small smile.

When he didn't respond you got up and turned on the electric kettle. You pushed in your chair and sat down in the one beside him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Without a response Jeonghan leaned over resting his weary head on your shoulder. You hesitated for a moment before gently running your finger through his hair. The kettle clicked off telling you water was boiled but you ignored it.

“Come with me.” You stood up pulling Jeonghan along with you to your room and shutting the door.

You stripped down to your underwear tossing the day's exhausted clothes in your hamper and then encouraged Jeonghan to do the same. He looked at you with curious amusement but still complied.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his small smile giving away his fatigue.

“Just trust me, okay? Let me take care of you. Please?”

Once he was done you pulled him into your bed, laying him down with the push of your hand against his chest.

You laid down next to him, resting your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, giving a squeeze.

To Jeonghan, the feeling of your warm body flush with his had healing properties.

“I think I sort of get how you feel.” Your voice was soft and careful as you spoke. “When I found out my brother died it felt so weird. I hated him so much but…”

“He’s still family.” Jeonghan finished for you.

Jeonghan lifted his head and looked into your face framed by the cool moonlight.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Moving on to his side he propped himself up, gazing down at you with what resembled the twinkle of a galaxy in his eyes. You smiled up at him, your cheeks bashful from his attention. Holding his face, you pulled him towards you until your desperate mouths met in a fever.

His body was hot and heavy on you as he leaned into your embrace, stealing more of your kisses.

Butterflies from his touch sprinkled across your sensitive skin, the velvet of his tongue intoxicatingly potent. Reaching under you he unclipped your bra, pulling it off, throwing it aside, before leaning down and kissing in between your soft mounds right above your heart.

You lost yourself in dizzy lust as his nimble fingers skillfully played with your swollen clit.

“W-wait.” You said, stopping his hand.

His lips vibrated against your nipples as he hummed to question you.

“Let me take care of you.”

You gently pushed at his chest until he laid back on the bed. Sitting up you straddled his hips and looked down at his amused face.

Jeonghan couldn't take his eyes off your alluring physique. The way your perked nipples still wet with his kisses glistened in the moonlight made it hard for him to form any amount of a coherent thought.

He couldn't resist squeezing your tensed thighs while you rubbed your pussy, wet and warm, up and down his painfully hard erection.

Sultry sounds fell from your pretty lips and made his cock twitch with need.

Just as Jeonghan was sure he couldn't take more of your teasing you lifted on your knees and rubbed his tip at your silky entrance. Completely entranced by your touch he fell apart just from watching the way you pulled your lips into your luscious mouth and crimped your eyebrows as your glistening core slowly swallowed him up.

Once you fit as much of him as you could, you stilled and blinked to halt the spinning of your lust hazed mind. The titillating feeling of your hot hungry walls squeezing around him caused his hips to lift into you in search of more.

Steadying yourself with your hands on his chest you worked your hips against him. His soft grunts poured lustrously in your ears filling you with pride as you continued your movements despite the increasing exhaustion of your hips. As the coil tightened in your core you steadied your breathing so you could last longer for him.

You felt Jeonghan's hands squeezing and guiding your hip, one hand slipping down to your clit and sending your mind into a static like fuzz. Your movements slowed but Jeonghan didn't mind taking the lead a bit by lifting his hips and meeting you halfway.

Missing your lips he reached up and pulled you to him, your sweaty skin rubbing together as the new position pushed him into you deliciously. The drink of his lips accompanied with his thrusts filled you with more ecstasy than your body could contain. The rush of your high overloaded your senses, shutting you down and leaving you feeling as if you were floating. You came back to the mumble of your name spilling from Jeonghan's lips as his hot seed filled you, mixing with your juices and slicking between your sticky spent bodies.

His heartbeat like a drum beneath you, his chest rocking you with every breath. Using your remaining strength, you lift yourself up and peppered Jeonghan with lazy kisses on his smiling lips. The fluttering of his feather-like eyelashes was hypnotizing as you watched him fall peacefully asleep.

Smiling to yourself you moved his sweaty hair from his face, holding a kiss in between his tensed brows until they softened.

“Sweet dreams my Hannie.” you whispered into his neck as you snuggled into him and shut your eyes for the night.

☾

You thanked past you for the alarm that woke you two up in time to get ready for the early morning meeting you had to attend. You shower first before waking him up. Instead of getting ready he laid still watching you with a smile as you scurried around and pulled on your clothes in a panic.

“You know it's okay if we're late.” Jeonghan spoke with a teasing lilt to his voice. He was thoroughly enjoying watching the way you wiggled your pants on.

You looked at him, smiling when you saw his signature mischievous head tilt that destroyed your every defense . You closed your eyes for a second to reset your weakening heart.

“I don't think being late is appropriate if you want to show respect and dignity.”

You sat down next to him on the bed to pull your socks on when he reached over and tickled you.

“Loosen up.” Jeonghan said laughing along with you. He sat up, pulling you closer and placing a kiss on your bare shoulder.

You took the chance to tickle him back, but his reflexes were quicker. Grabbing you he fell back on the bed, pulling you atop him.

You stopped his lips between your two fingers as they littered your breast with kisses. You felt him growing hard beneath you and lifted yourself back up with a teasing smirk.

“I'm going to make breakfast.”

Pulling away from his pleading grip you patted him playfully on the chest and stood up walking away with a sexy sway of your hips leaving him to figure out his own issue.

Jisoo raised his eyebrow at you when he heard the sound of the shower from your room's direction instead of Jeonghans. Without a word he poured his coffee, shaking his head and laughing at the blush that now colored your face.

After the meeting you went home first to finish up with the files in their father's office.

When lunchtime rolled around the brothers ate and then went for a little walk before they had to get back to the stuffy offices in their stuffy suits while stuffy people bored them to death.

“No wonder Father was so fucking miserable; this is depressingly painful.” Jeonghan said to his brother as he stretched and rubbed his eyes.

“Jeonghan. I think that old lady’s been following us.” Jisoo grabbed his brother's arm before he could turn around and look. “Let's just keep walking until we get somewhere more private and then we'll confront her.

Jeonghan nodded and they slightly picked up pace only taking small glances to check if the woman was still following them, which she was.

As the crowd thinned out, suspecting she wasn't alone, the brothers prepared themselves for a fight.

But when they turned around a middle aged woman stood there by herself.

She smiled and stepped closer. Instinctively Jeonghan stepped over to block his brother without taking his eyes off the woman's hands that were hidden in the sleeves of her jacket. Jeonghan reached for his gun and Jisoo quickly turned around to make sure no one was behind them.

“I came alone.” she said, her voice soft and low.

The women, although young looking, had long silver hair pulled elegantly into a bun. She wore a sweater dress with a collar that was low enough to reveal a ghastly scar across her neck. Jeonghan couldn't shake the familiar feeling she felt when he looked at her.

“Jeonghan….”

“How do you know my name?” Jeonghan demanded, now pulling out his gun and pointing it at the woman.

He knew never to underestimate an opponent so despite her small frame he was still on guard. She wouldn't get a chance to hurt him or his brother without a bullet through her head.

She put her hands up to show that they were empty.

“Please, I mean know harm. I just want to talk.’

When Jeonghan did not respond she inched closer.

Once she was a few feet away she smiled up at Jeonghan and spoke. “Jeonghan it's me. It's your mother.”

At that moment he saw it. The young face that smiled brightly in the picture he found in his father's draw when he was younger. The face that Kim had shown him when he had begged her to know more about his mother. Now small and thin her eyes still shone the same whimsical way.

Jeonghan could only lower his gun in quiet shock but Jisoo’s words spoke his mind. “No, that's impossible. You're dead.”

She shrugged casually. “Your father should've known best of all the importance of burying your own bodies.”

If it wasn't for his brother's support Jeonghan might have fallen over.

“It was you, wasn't it?” he asked quietly. “You killed him.”

Jisoo looked at his brother in confusion until all the pieces clicked together for him as well.

“That's how the killer knew where to find the cameras, and his room…” Jisoo thought aloud, his voice sounding almost impressed.

“He was so surprised when he saw me.” she bitterly chuckled as she recounted the night. “I'd never seen him look scared before…” she touched the scar on her neck before stepping closer again.

“So what exactly do you want?” Jeonghan asked, he was struggling to hold back the unidentifiable wall of emotions he was feeling.

“Nothing. I only wanted to free you of that monster, it was all I could do for you.”

She reached for Jeonghan's face, and he let her put a gentle hand on his cheek. Looking into his estranged mothers' eyes made tears well in Jeonghans.

“And to tell you that I love you so much.”

Jeonghan reached to wipe away the rivers that spilled from the woman’s shaking eyes, but she timidly backed away.

“Take care.” she whispered.

“Wait!” Jeonghan called out but the woman quickly turned and hurried away.

He started after her, but he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder. He turned to Jisoo to find his brother shaking his head.

Suddenly Jeonghan found himself laughing. Of all the emotions that whirled through him he wasn't sure why laughter was his outlet, but he didn’t fight it. At first Jisoo blinked at him, completely baffled but soon he was joining his brother.

“I think we've lost our minds.” Jisoo said, wiping tears from his eyes as their laughter finally subdued.

“Actually, I feel great.” Jeonghan said, draping his arm over his brother's shoulder and walking back to their car. “Let’s go home Jisoo.”

☾

Tiptoeing down the cold hall with your bare feet and your throw blanket wrapped securely around your barely dressed body you searched for your lover. Poking your head in each room as you passed it you finally rejoiced upon finding him in his study. His body languidly poured over the papers in front of him as he finished up the day's work.

You carefully creeped towards him in hopes to startle him in his focused state, but he looked up at you and smiled.

“You’re not exactly a ninja, love.”

He tilted his head in that adorable way that still owned your heart.

You spun his chair towards you and threw yourself in his lap.

“Come to bed.”

“I will, soon.”

Jeonghan took a deep inhale of your scent as your deliciously warm body straddled his lap. “You smell delicious.” he said playfully biting your shoulder, your giggle filling him with energy as you swatted him away.

“Did you talk to your mom today?”

“Umhm. She went back to Japan last night, so she called me when she landed.”

You could tell he still felt weird talking about her.

“Before I forget, open that draw.” Jeonghan said pointing to the right draw of his desk.

You smiled at him curiously before turning around on his lap and pulling out the draw. Your breath hitched the moment your eyes laid on the open jewelry box that was reviled to you.

“I figured I owed you something proper. These are all custom made just for you.”

Jeonghan reached around you and picked up the beautifully carved wooden box, bringing it closer to you.

Reaching inside you picked up a necklace with a delicate golden chain and a pendent that sparkled. You took the box from his hands and closed it before setting it on his desk and giving him the necklace.

Jeonghan placed a tender kiss on your neck before clasping the necklace around it. Holding your cheeks he gently turned your face to him and left a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Can I stay here while you finish up?” You said with round pleading eyes that he would never resist.

“You have to hold on, I need my hands free so I can work.

“I've got an idea!”

Jeonghan's eyebrow raised at you as you lifted the hem of his tee shirt, ducking under and crawling inside, resting your head on his chest.

The vibration of his laughter was soothing as he wrapped the cover around you, tucking the sides so it wouldn’t fall off.

“You are a very peculiar person.” He said while rubbing your back to still the shaking of your giggling.

His shirt was large and it secured you nicely against him, the warmth of his body and scent completely relaxing you.

“Hey! Don’t tickle me.” He said patting your butt in jest-full scolding.

“Then don't be so ticklish.” You said poking him once more.

“Either you stop, or I toss you out.”

You exaggeratedly gasped. “You wouldn't dare.”

“Try me.” He said, grabbing hold of your waist and lightly beginning to pull.

“Okay okay I won't tickle you.”

You had to wrap your arms tightly around him to stop from slipping as you laughed.

“What’s this?” You asked, your hands brushing against slightly raised skin down by his hip bone.

“Just a tattoo Jisoo wanted to get with me. You can see it later, stop moving.”

“How about you read aloud so you can stay awake, and I can go to sleep?” You request.

The soft hum of his voice vibrating through his chest was absolutely serene causing you to drift into a comfortable sleep.

When you woke up again you were in his bed still cuddling against him, his shirt gone and his arms like a cocoon around you. You struggled to slide from his embrace you as he mumbled protests against your shoulder and pulled you closer.

“Shhhh, I’m just going to pee.”

When you came back for the bathroom he was sprawled out in the bed, the covers no longer covering his torso.

Sitting down next to him you examined his new ink.

“Family….” You read in a whisper.

You delicately traced the thin loopy letters until Jeonghan stirred. Grabbing your hand, he smiled sleepily at you before pulling you against him.

“Jisoo wrote mine and I wrote his. To remind us of what’s important, of why we’re still doing this.”

He paused for a moment, thinking as he rubbed your back. You could feel the gentle thump of his heart… feel the peace in each beat.

“You, Jisoo, Kim… you guys are my family.”

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[sassyandsodone]

Raphael or Haarlep reacting to waking up as the little spoon, even though the little mouse is smaller than the fiend. Like Tav's chest is pressed against the fiend's back, arms loosely but tenderly wrapped around the fiend's torso, Tav's head resting by the fiend's shoulder blades while the mortal's peaceful breath gently fanning the base of the fiend's wings. Perhaps the fiend's tail has ended up coiled around one of Tav's legs.

Big fan of spooning. Hope you like it.

If Raphael had been asked if he believed in intimacy, he would have said no. Sex, he believed, was a dance of power and pleasure. So long as someone won, someone lost, and rapture was found for the winner, nothing else was needed. Intimacy was just another word for weakness or vulnerability. And Raphael always won and he was never weak.

So it had come to pass that he found himself the winner of another game with his most precious client. They had been a useful tool for his pleasure, which was mandatory, and had been most pleased themself, something that wasn't needed but he was fine with.

Sleeping was an indulgence for him that, he confessed, he enjoyed partaking in after he had had his fill of bliss. Whether the little mortal stayed by his side or not hardly mattered. But he found most nights they lingered in his arms, far too spent to escape. The thought had crossed his mind that his fiendish form would hold them too tight while he slept and end their mortal existence. Perhaps his claws would rend while he dreamt, or his arms would crush the breath from their chest, or, who knows, his tail could choke them (Haarlep certainly wielded their tail like a weapon while they slept.) It would be a waste of his client’s potential as an asset but to die in his bed would be quite an honor.

When he awoke, he kept his eyes closed, just barely cognizant to the realities of the waking world. Instinctively, he reached forward to hold his little toy but found his embrace empty. His eyes fluttered open and saw an empty bed before him. Had they actually left?

He reached forward just a bit further and a pressure on his back revealed the location of his little mouse. An arm snaked around his waist, legs intertwined with his. His mouse was behind him, sandwiched between his wings, holding him while they slept.

What were they doing?

His initial reaction was one of paralyzed shock. The actor played out a familiar scene yet the roles were reversed. How did the two of them even end up in this unsuitable position?

He attempted to move, sort this out, fix this issue, when the arm on him gripped tighter. He could feel warm breath against his back, they were so small their mouth was pressed between his shoulder blades. Raphael had never had anyone lying directly on one of his wings before and he had not expected it to be quite so comfortable. No. Comforting was a more appropriate word. They were cocooned by his wings’ leathery embrace, probably not even visible to any outside view.

Strange. He was not in charge in this situation, he was not in full control. And yet, he did not desire to fix this, to right it, to punish it. A thought flitted through his mind, a simple question that he could not be sure the answer to.

Had anyone ever held him like this before?

In his long life he had seen precious few embraces. His father had most certainly never touched him except to correct errors, to fix him, to punish him. His sister had hugged him at one point, not long before he left Mephistar, but her hug had been brief and unwanted. Haarlep had touched him like no one else ever had, knew his body inside and out but he could not recall them ever engaging in such a display. Mortal bedfellows he had indulged in over the years had not left any impression on him, centuries had left their bodies and faces indistinguishable. But this, this warmth was burning into his mind.

Affection? Intimacy? Love? Perish the thought. He knew nothing of those myths. They were wastes of time for lesser beings, wastes he would never give up any of his time for. But regardless of why, or how he had ended up in such a vulnerable position, Raphael felt peace.

He shut his eyes again, his time was not so precious that he could not afford a bit more sleep. His tail reached and wrapped around the little mouse’s leg, holding them in return. They scooched closer leaving no space between the two of them.

Regardless of whether this was intimacy or not, whether it was another step to a dance of power or not. It was warm. And it was pleasurable.

[wwaheoh]

"Mara-struck", Jing Yuan x gnReader (+Yanqing, parental), SFW, Angst no Comfort

c/w: Descriptions of body mutation, blood, cannibalism, and death.

a/n: i should probably make something happier next time

The day that all long-lived Xianzhou natives were cursed finally arrived to take Jing Yuan. It was unexpected, the sickness of Mara quickly overtaking the beloved general over the course of only a day.

That morning you had bid your dear farewell, rising early in the morning, setting breakfast and preparing yourself for another day aboard the Xianzhou Luofu as it hurled through space. Greeting Yanqing as he worked through his daily training, a new sword in his hand. He had grown into a fine young man and was excited to show off his swordsmanship and newest addition to his collection to the General.

As you set the table, you felt sturdy hands on your shoulders, the serene, warm smell that came from Jing Yuan filling your noise, the resting weight of a muscular man clinging onto you. His warmth radiated as he rested his head on yours. “Good morning my love,” His voice, deep and gravelly from just waking up, “Smells wonderful. Sleep well?”

You giggled, “Of course, I cooked it.” Returning his hug, you had to gently pry him off of you, lest he fall asleep again on you and leave breakfast to get cold. He sat across from you, steaming tea accompanied by a traditional Xianzhou breakfast sat prepared on the table. Birds chirped serenely as the sky slowly faded from the colorful night sky to a deep purple, blazing orange on the horizon.

The two of you spoke of pleasantries, plans for today, and events upcoming. Yanqing had joined you both midway through, having taken a shower and eating. It was picture perfect, ending with you bidding them farewell as they left to attend to their official matters as General and Retainer. Jing Yuan nearly tripped over his feet as he left, taking a second and continuing forward, chuckling at the small incident.

-

It was now afternoon. You prepared lunch for the two, still steaming, freshly made. You had found Yanqing first, finding him to be running drills on the Cloud Soldiers, voice full of strength and purpose. Until he turned and yelped, surprised at your sudden appearance. Grateful, he accepted the lunch you prepared, waving goodbye with that smile that made you want to pinch his cheeks and gush about how adorable he was. He turned, seeing the Cloud Knights watching his interaction with you, before once again falling into that voice that commanded respect, ordering them to run another drill.

You made your way to the gates of the Seat of Divine Foresight. With a quick identity check and screening, you made your way to the small garden where you’d know Jing Yuan would be.

It was… eerily quiet. Much more than usual. Usually you’d hear birds chirping, maybe the occasional sound of someone chattering from the other room. But nothing, only the lazy trails of water than run through the garden.

That was until you entered his office, seeing Jing Yuan sitting on his desk. Originally you had thought he’d fallen asleep, like he often did during his day at work. But as you got closer, you noticed an off smell. The smell of bark, wood. There were branches growing from him, golden leaves decorating his hair. His eyes were open, staring directly at you with hauntingly cold eyes.

You scrambled, your legs failing you, leading to you on the ground. “Help!” Voice echoing through the corridors as the being formerly known as Jing Yuan made its way closer. It charged, hands clawing at your skin, tearing it with the strength of a beast. Blood pooled under you as you struggled, unable to pry the monster off of you. He tore into your flesh, until you passed out from the blood loss, with your soul passing on soon after.

-

Yanqing burst through the door, swords at the ready. He was greeted by a scene he would never be able to scrub from his mind. The mara-struck formerly known as Jing Yuan, beloved general and adoptive father of his. And the corpse of his lover, adoptive parent to Yanqing. Your screams echoed through his mind, blood staining the walls.

It was a brutal fight, leaving Yanqing bedridden for weeks under the care of Bailu. What started as a beautiful day, ended with two graves and a son taking the mantle far sooner than what was wished upon him.

[summerf0x]

I think the real reason why Artic’s death is so horrifying isn’t because of the gore. It’s because it represents Darkstalker finally becoming the monster he was prophecized to be.

The entire book you know how it’s going to end. Darkstalker will be sealed beneath a mountain, Clearsight will flee the continent, and Fathom leaves the public eye with Indigo. The build up is an entirely different story. All three of them want the future to be different, one where they stay together and avoid the grim fate that awaits them, and for a few brief periods all over the story you think they will. Clearsight says that she had almost entirely written out the scroll as a possibility because of how few timelines it appeared in.

Fathom manages to gradually reign in Darkstalker to the point where the thought of him enchanting the goblet was shocking. And yet, Darkstalker continues down the dark path. He doesn’t trap Indigo just because he loathes her (although that definitely contributed to it). He traps her because it’s a stepping stone to getting Fathom more willing to use his animus powers, weather that be voluntarily or not. He gives Clearsight the earrings not because he dislikes her power. He gives it to her because it’s only a temporary thing to make sure she’s happier and he check all her work anyway, so nothing bad would happen!

Darkstalker has convinced himself that every action he does is the right one. It’s all to move them towards the best possible future, where everyone’s happy in the end. At least… he says that. Some part of Darkstalker still knows these are wrong. That’s why he wrote them in the invisible ink. That’s why he never fully enchanted, Clearsight or Fathom to change. Little, justifiable nudges that he could write off as a necessary evil. It doesn't matter how they get to the big, happy ending. Just that they get there in the first place. Everyone will be happy then, so when he reveals what he did they'll be mad for a bit but will ultimately accept that it all worked out in the end.

It's this philosophy that helps Darkstalker continue. He's not a monster because he never changes them directly, only with something small and disposeable like an object. He is so terrifed of being that bloodstained dragon in the future he refuses to do it directly, maintaining plausable deniability the entire time. It creates a buffer between them, and as long as it stands he considers himself blameless.

Even when everyone else is against him for surviving Quickdeath’s attack, he doesn’t focus on the fact that they are horrified that he enchanted himself to be invulnerable and instead says that the problem is resolved and is shocked that they aren’t relieved and going on as normal.

When he enchants Arctic, he still doesn’t lay a hand on him. Not his claws. He is not bloody. Not yet. He flies Arctic to the center of the Nightwing kingdom and creates a mock trial out of his father’s death. He kills him as a show of power, yes, but convinced himself it’s justifiable. He waits for the crowd’s reaction before doing it.

Arctic’s death isn’t even that descriptive. The book says that it was “messy” but there aren’t pages and pages of vivid gore. It’s a short paragraph and while it is the culmination of Darkstalker’s decent into power-driven madness the violence is so very small in a book filled with it. There’s no return from here. Clearsight says it herself, when everything is done. She can’t return to the Nightwings after being seen on that stage with Darkstalker. This is what finally gets Fathom to give up on any attempts to bring him back to the friendly, charming version of the Darkstalker he knew.

There’s no return for Darkstalker, either. In his mind, he’s won. He’s “triumphed” over Arctic after all this time. He’s finally killed someone. No. He’s finally made someone kill themselves. Like some sort of horrible gotcha to the universe, there is no blood on his claws. No blemishes on his body. Even when killing his father, he remains blameless in his mind. He would have remained blameless when killing anyone else.

[bibibbon]

eveyone calling dabi touya after the reveal is making me wanna claw my eyes out because HOW IS EVERYONE MISSING THE POINT SO FUCKING BADLY

THE POINT IS THAT HE ISN’T TOUYA AND HE NEVER WILL BE AGAIN BECAUSE TOUYA IS DEAD

dabi was created from the ashes of touya and that’s literally the whole point

he can never BE touya again because of the things he’s done and the small issue that touya is legally dead

AND WHAT MAKES YOU THINK HE WANTS TO BE TOUYA AGAIN??????

he wants NOTHING to do with the todoroki’s and tries to actively distance himself from his family

ik he is so fucking pissed in the afterlife because everyone is calling him touya when he’s not touya he’s DABI

same with shigaraki. this one is definitely an unpopular opinion but people calling him tenko just feels so wrong to me

i just hate it when people think that just bc it’s technically their real names is means is *their name*

like sure my legal name is my legal name but *my name* is caleb

anyway i just wanna scream sometimes

You bring a very interesting point!!

This is something I haven't really realised, but now that you mentioned it and now that I am looking back at various different posts, I can tell how different people sometimes use dabi and touya interchangeably and yeah actually it makes sense why you're mad about it.

A core part of Dabi's character is that he is no longer Touya. Touya died the minute he went back to his old home, and everyone forgot about him, and nothing changed. The greif and emotions that young touya held to try and appease to his father burned away turning touya into ashes and that's how dabi was born.

Yes, the phoenix imagery with Dabi is strong. The death of touya, where touya turns into ashes and dabi is born from those ashes, is something so slept on by the fandom!!

People using dabi and touya interchangeably is like someone using jink and powder interchangeably. The plot for both mha and arcane has made it clear that those characters are two different people.

Jink isn't powder, and powder isn't jink. They might be the same person genetically speaking, but they aren't the same when it comes to character and personality.

The same thing goes for dabi and shigaraki. However, the plot of Mha does make it an integral part of Dabi's character it literally focuses and says it directly on chapter 350!!

Dabi, like you said, will never be touya, and touya will never be dabi. I have noticed that even when it comes to me writing my analysis, I have never really used dabi and touya interchangeably. When it comes to me talking about touya, I talk about touya, and when I talk about dabi, I talk about dabi (this doesn't make sense, but I have no way of fully explaining it tbh)

Shigaraki is a bit more complicated and a bit of a grey area. Yes, he also has the same thing as both dabi and jink, yet it's not made or focused to be an integral part of his character. I personally blame the writing for that instead.

With shigarakis character, it's kind of the opposite of jink and dabi. What I mean is that the narrative kind of goes out of its way to make it clear that shigaraki will always be tenko even if he tries to reject that. This can be seen with izuku seeing tenko or during shigaraki's fight with afo and mirio he mentions HIS backstory with HIS friends.

As much as shigaraki may try to reject it, he is tenko, and in the end, he acknowledges that. He dies as both tenko and as the leader of the leauge of villains.

[reginalusus]

Hey girl, can we have some Duela (aka the "Joker's" daughter) and Jason's bond in ur au pretty please? (Harvey would totally be like: "my daughter Duela and her brother Jason (Bruce don't let me adopt him.)")

I hope another writing drabble is ok because I'm kind of arted out at the moment. </3 (Might be working on a larger drawing and I don't wanna doodle myself out before I get to it). But anyway!

---

Jason stood, arms tight against himself, as Duela trailed on about her rather enthralling time with some group of people. She wasn't name-dropping anything anytime soon. A lot of words, but no names. At least she was jovial about it, Jason thought.

He just wished Harvey wasn't being so plucky about the Subway order. It didn't need to be a in a fucking perfect half, and he was holding up the rather terrified queue.

So here he was, standing in the corner of the place with Duela jabbering in his ear about whatever it was she was talking about. He didn't mind jabberers, people who talked a lot. Maybe she was nervous. Jason was certainly nervous; he knew tidbits of her past. He knew of a certain alias she had. He analysed her face, looking for any familiarity. Thankfully, he didn't see any. Yet. Duela looked like any other girl embracing a phase. Piercings too. A nice touch.

"Where do you get your piercings done?" Jason interjected.

Duela smiled. "Oh. Claire's."

Jason glared at her, blank. Duela glared at him, blank. The queue was not getting any smaller. Oh, God, get smaller.

"I was joking by the way," Duela said, leaning over to view Jason's thinned lips and averted eyes.

Ah, yes. Because Jason liked jokes. She seemed to feel bad though; her bright smile faded and she shouldered the wall, gazing at her phone now. It felt strange not having her gossip pierce the air, as had been for the past ten minutes or so. It was better than listening to Harvey try and guide the sandwich artist's knife placement like a claw-machine.

"He's a case, isn't he?" Duela asked, watching Harvey.

Jason scoffed. "Yeah, a fucking nutcase."

"He tries though."

"That he does."

"Hey, dad?" Duela called to Harvey, prompting him to look over. "We need to go soon because I'm pretty sure someone's called the cops."

"No, they haven't," Harvey growled as the cashier wiped sweat from their brow. "I didn't hear none of these morons talkin'."

"I saw them. They held the phone up and the police instantly know your voice. Also," - Duela pointed to a wanted poster directly beside her - "So yeah, dad!"

"Can't have shit in Gotham."

Dad. It was weird hearing Harvey be called that. But Duela said it so casually, just like any other normal teen talking to their normal dad in their normal life. Jason hadn't quite got there - he probably never would.

Harvey shoved through the crowd, looming over most of them, his Subway bags in tow. He exited the shop, almost breaking the door off its hinges from his barging shoulder, and that was the signal to chase after him.

"You really know how to get him to, like... listen," Jason mumbled as he left with Duela.

Duela smirked. "Dad is the keyword. I didn't use to call him that often. You know... father-daughter arguments and all that. But it softens him up a little."

"I see."

Jason still wasn't calling him that, however. He could barely call Bruce that. It was nice that Duela could though.

They caught up with Harvey as they made trek to the car. Jason was used to the wide eyes of passers whenever he and Harvey would pit-stop at a 7-11 or a McDonald's drive-thru when coming back from a job. Yes, they all looked odd. Duela was, somehow, perhaps the most normal looking out them all, despite her loud hair and copious piercings and brightly polished nails.

"Dad, can we stop at Claire's to get Jason new piercings?" Duela asked with a grin as she sat in passenger.

"Fine," Harvey sighed.

Jason clambered into the back. "Dent, can we stop at Walmart so I can get new slipper socks?"

"No."

"What?" Jason spat, his voice higher than usual. "Why not?"

"We're tired."

"We'Re TIreD."

Duela eyed Jason in the car door mirror. She raised her brow and nodded her head to the side, gesturing him to try the Word. Jason folded his arms. He wasn't trying the damn Word. The Word was caught in his throat like a lump of cement, and it only hardened more and more over time.

"Fine," Duela sighed. "I'll teach different ways to soften him up when we get back. But only if you let me borrow your Green Day CD."

Jason frowned at her in the mirror. "Deal. Just don't fucking drop it or I'll drop you."

They shared a chuckle, even more so at a bemused Harvey who questioned what the hell they were talking about. Jason wasn't fond of sharing that CD of his, not yet, but sharing a laugh together was fine enough.

[hermesserpent-stuff]

May I ask, for Teeth and Claws AU or your X-Men Evolution AUs with Gambit, Sabretooth, and Wolberine in general, what is Wolverine and Sabretooth's relationship? How do they know each other? Were they once friends, or even brothers? And is Creed still kinda platonic yandere for Logan, the way he is with Remy, or just see him as a worthy opponent/packmate?

(I read your newest chapters of Teeth and Claws, and you hit me in the feels. Emotions were felt, and I want to give Remy hugs so bad! But with like, blanket or bubble wrap between, so he isn't being directly touched. Or maybe gift him some kitten plushies, especially a sabretooth tiger one (and sneak in a wolverine plush for reasons).

So I'm straight up stealing from convos that I've had with @golden-buddle.  Bestie is him and his messages have “” around them 

This information is gonna slowly (and Quickly) bubble up in the fic

tw child abuse and violence

In this fic, since i dont know id the made it canon for evolution, Logan and victor are brothers. With a shared mom and dad and all that fun stuff. Victor was born in 1827 as Victor howlett. James (Logan) was born 1832. Victor started showing signs of being a feral at 14 and was tied up in the yard by their father to keep people safe from him acting on instinct. He lost his mind to pure instinct for a year.His father tried ripping out Victors teeth and claws, but they kept growing back. Logan would visit as night, not understanding why his brother was tied up and likeing the way Victor purred and nuzzled him. Victor slowly comes back to human speech through the attention of Logan and starts acting more human. Their father makes him spend nights in the yard and uses him for work around the homestead. Victor chafes under the cruel hand of their father but sticks it out for Logan. He is on a trip to town when Logans feral gene kicks in at 12. 

When he sees his brothers bloody face missing fangs and his father's hands bloody while their mother hides away, he loses himself. He rips apart their father and devours his eyes and heart before crushing the bones and dumping the remains in a strong flowing river. His little brother will not suffer his fate.

No one knows what happened to me. Howlett. Only that his wife died of a broken heart not a month later. Logan is double distraught and the two do their best to survive and deal with their instincts with Logan leaning towards civilization and Victor leaning towards wildness.

They become guns for hire, joing the civil war. Logan finds someone to love and settles down post war and Victor can't stand being stuck in one place after being a river. He tries to get Logan to come with and they separated after a blow-up argument where Logan essentially established that either he had to be head of the pack or the pack is dissolved. So the pack dissolved for a long long time. Victor dropped the Howlett last name and took up the name Creed. Centuries where one figured that the other had not gotten the longevity trait of the mutation. Many near misses in wars like wwi and WWII of seeing each other again. Creed's scent changed during that time and so did Logan's.

They meet back up after WWii when Weapon X is in full swing to try and recreate cap. America on some level. This is where we wander into au territory. 

Victor and Logan recognize each other in the program and there is a lot of joy and relief in seeing that the other didnt die once they realize who the other feral is (this takes a little bit due to all the changes) . They both have picked up their animal names by then and go by them frequently. 

They both are on board for augmentation, but both of them thinking it would just be the claws and nothing past that. They both are very firm on this. Victor was the one who got Logan to stay on even as he got nervous about things. Victor did not know that they would mess with his brother's mind. Just thought it was a body change. Victor got stronger nails but his healing factor is too weak for a full animantium skeleton.  Logan sees this and victor shows them off and logan is okay with going under. For his claws and nothing more. But whoopsie poopsie, whole skeleton. And mind games!! And logan bursts out full feral and in pain and runs after breaking the facility a bit. 

Time passes 

Creed does not realize that Logan has lost his memory of them reuniting. He thinks that his brother knows and is pissed. 

To quote bestie:

“Victor has no idea that Logan’s memories have been shot.

Victor has no idea that Wolvie has no idea that they’re blood brothers

Victor could be under the impression that Logan decided a while back that they WERENT Pack anymore-

Because Logan isn’t really fighting for dominance- he’s fighting for his life”

“Logan thinks his older brother is dead, and this is just some feral who recognizes that Logan’s older, therefor to get more territory it’s best to cull the older feral and absorb his territory. So Logan’s fighting for his life and his pack.

Victor, meanwhile, is just seeing their constant clashes as a fucked up dominance fight. Sure, his Jimmy is being a biiiit more violent than they were during Weapon X, but that’s probably because Jimmy has claimed the X-men as pack. Which totally doesn’t chaff him and make him jealous. Not at all. 

They probably had a very emotional break down when they realized who eachother was back during Weapon X.

Just. Vic is the only one who remembers it. Logan doesn’t.”

 This will only be clarified because creed gets his own kit and becomes less interested in being pack with logan. Because normal cubs like remy only get one lifetime. he can make pack with Jimmy later after infinite fights. but remy don't have infinite time. 

Some additional not asked about thoughts because magneto mighttttt use remy to influence creed when he realizes how close the two are. 

-- Sabretooth is sent on mission that was supposed to be him and Remy breaking into a place. But very suddenly Remy is throwing up in the trash can and smelling so sick. Magneto tells him he can take care of Remy after the mission. He's back in 2 hrs for something that should have lasted a day. He completely ignores Logan, and when the other feral tries to fight, creed is snappy and Logan notices the tiny braid in Creeds hair that smells of cub. If Sabretooth has a cub where are they? Are they safe with Sabretooth?? Logan's instincts flare as creed gets gone from the scene.

Logan has to know if creed has a cub. The guy never showed himself as someone who could take care of a cub. Or as someone who could be gentle when the time called for it. And cub with creed might be in danger. Danger that Logan feels he has to prevent, because who else can tell that creed has a kid based on scent markers??

“hes so concerned!!

Victor is clearly run by his instincts if he keeps attacking the one older feral nearby-

what would happen to the kid when they eventually grow too old to be stifled by Victor's instincts???”

When he meets Remy, it's some how  worse. The kid is a good fighter but jittery in any other context with a clear aversion to touch and sniffs. Logan is just trying to figure out how scent and boom the kid is full on distressed. What. Did. Creed. Do.

And thats all the sneak peak into my brain and besties brain. 

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Five: Unrequited Lover's Lake (Part Two)

The Pariahs That Saved The World

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: vecna's curse, mentions of death, blood

[A/N: I have risen from the dead! Again... I need to stop acquiring every illness in a ten mile radius. Anyway, this chapter was a little rushed but only because I'm really excited to start writing the next *wink wink*. I hope you enjoy!]

Unrequited Lover's Lake (Part Two)

You take a deep breath, smoothing your hair away from your face. There wasn’t time for your breakdown right now. Max needed you. The sooner you figured it all out, the sooner this would be over.

Something snaps in the woods behind you and you assume someone has walked over, making you turn with a ready-made lie on your tongue. Except, no one was there.

You weren’t even in the woods anymore.

“What…” You spin around, eyes darting to look down the different hallways you were suddenly surrounded by.

The lights trailing the ceiling above your head flickered in short bursts of light as your hands start to shake. No. Not here.

Pale white walls were boxing you in to suffocate you, a faint murmur of vibration running through the concrete surrounding you. You were back in the hospital, the same nightmare that replayed in your head for months now. Except this didn’t feel like a dream you could wake up from.

Whispers float through the air and you turn to find two figures standing at the end of one hallway, close to one another, conspiring. You squint, breath hitching.

“Nancy?” You call out, frowning. You watch as her and Jonathan’s heads turn toward you, holding your gaze for just a moment before returning to their quiet conversation.

You feel a chill run down your spine when a clang of metal echoes from the hallway behind you, daring you to look.

Two more silhouettes stand side by side, stances unwavering. They didn’t move. They didn’t even speak. But you recognised them instantly.

Your father’s lips peel into a sickening grin, eyes latched onto your soul. This isn’t real, you try and remind yourself. It was no use. Your body didn’t react the same way.

You try and run, forcing your legs to carry you far away from wherever here was, but it was like they were glued to the ground. You look down and watch in horror as something slides up from the ground and wraps around your ankles, securing you to where you stood. Vines.

Mr Holloway is the first to start moving towards you in a taunting pace, the slow echo of his footsteps rattling in your brain as you desperately try to tug yourself free, a sob escaping your lips.

“Nancy! Jonathan!” You scream to them, voice bellowing through the hallway in such fury you were sure their hair was moved by the wind of your desperation.

They look up at you, emotionless, until they finally turn and walk away. They left you. Just like they did before.

“Someone, please!” You beg to an empty hallway, the vines slithering further up your legs and remaining unaffected by your relentless attempts to rip them off of you.

And then you felt it. A single cold breath against the back of your neck, goosebumps trailing in fear.

Heather suddenly stood in front of you, wearing a smile that was unnatural to her kind features. A single tear was trickling down her cheek, black as night. And her eyes… every nerve in your body was set alight at the soulless nature of her gaze.

Without warning, her skin starts crack, widening your eyes in shock. It starts to peel away from her flesh, twisting around into raw red vines until her body was completely littered in them. She shape-shifted into something unnatural, horrific in its own creation, a monster.

The monster you could only assume to be the infamous Vecna.

“You couldn’t save her.” His voice is low and menacing, burnt lips driving the fear directly into your soul.

You start to cry, the vines tightening their restraints the further they creep up your torso.

“Just like you won’t save them.”

His arm raises and you watch in horror as his claws extend over your face, an invisible force whipping your head back and making you scream in pain.

Those milky white eyes lean over to glare down at you, watching the tears stream down your face. His head tilts, observing you, leaving you in painful anticipation of what you realise could be the end. An end no one would save you from.

“I want you to tell them… everything… you see.”

And then a sharp pain infiltrates images into your mind, scorching them to memory.

A gate in deep water, beating rhythmically.

It’s a lake, Lover’s Lake.

And then you see your friends, their bodies, suddenly surfacing as the water bleeds red.

“No!” You sob, desperately blinking away the visions, but they were burned into the crevices of your imagination.

Vines wrap around your throat in a tight grip and squeeze the oxygen from you, your body wriggling in panic against the restraints as Vecna leans in closer, ensuring you would hear his voice echo in your ear forever.

“Tell them.”

“Y/n?!”

You gasp, collapsing to the ground. You hear something like a cry as your body hits the dirt and leaves leaving you breathless. It’s all a motion blur, the sun bleeding through the trees and hitting your face as you collect as much oxygen back into your lungs as you can.

Feeling the brush of a touch against your forehead spurs you back to reality, Nancy’s worried expression trying to talk to you. It’s all a murmur against the piercing sound in your ear.

Then, Robin. Her teary eyes are coming closer to you, her leg brushing against yours as she kneels to the ground, unable to focus on her words. All you could see was those images. The vision.

“The gate…” You whisper out, trying to sit up and grabbing Robin’s arm when you felt weak. “I know… I know where the gate is.”

Her blue eyes of deep concern search yours for more answers, scanning your entire face like it could print your exact thoughts. Your top lip feels wet and you swipe your fingertips across it, painting them red.

Blood.

You told them everything.

Well, almost everything. You talked about Vecna, how he had shown you a possible future if you continued the path to the gate, instructing you to tell your friends everything.

But you never told them about the hospital, or the way he was using your worst memories to haunt you now as long as you lived. You didn’t want everyone to know about the ghost of your nightmares.

“Wait, so he didn’t want to kill you?” Lucas questions, a deep frown set in his features. You can only shake your head, feeling just as confused as the rest.

“He didn’t… he just let me go.” You say, your voice almost alien. “He told me to tell you guys everything I saw.”

“I think he was trying to warn us.” Robin says quietly and when your eyes meet hers, she can’t help that twist in her stomach that told her something was wrong. It was a feeling she couldn’t shake, like this was only just the beginning.

“We’re getting close, then.” Nancy nods, arms folded. “He’s trying to scare us away.”

“How do we know going to this gate isn’t actually gonna get us killed?” Steve asks, hands on his hips. “You heard Y/n, he showed her where the gate was. If you were worried someone was getting close to your secret lair or whatever, why would you show them how to find it?”

“Right now, it’s our only plan to find him and put an end to this.” Nancy reiterates and Steve sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What do you think?” Robin suddenly asks and when you look up, you realise she’s asking you. You blink.

“I, uh…” You glance between Steve and Nancy, biting your lip. “I think Vecna knows we were going to find this gate regardless. If anything… I think he was trying to scare us away from it. I… I don’t think it’s a trap. Like Robin said… it’s a warning. And not a nice one.”

“Then it’s settled.” Dustin claps his hands, smiling. “Y/n isn’t cursed. We now know how to get to Vecna. Nobody’s gonna die. Y/n can show us where the gate is and I can prove my compass is correct.”

Steve huffs in frustration. “It’s not-”

“Are we really doing this?” Lucas cuts in, frowning. “Going to the gate?”

“What other choice do we have?” Max voices and his face falls. The importance of this wasn’t lost on any of you. You either find Vecna, or you lose Max for good.

“To Mordor?” Eddie looks around and everyone hesitantly nods. He lets out a sigh, standing from where he was crouched beside you.

“What the hell is Mordor?” Steve mutters as you and Dustin are instructed to take the lead, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Robin’s eyes never left your back as she walked in step beside Steve at the rear of the group, barely even focusing on not tripping over any intruding roots. In the last hour, she’s been through every emotion. Happiness, hurt, regret, guilt. And now terror. Afraid of what was going to be waiting for all of you at the end of this. She had no doubt they’d find the gate. But then what?

“Wanna talk about why you’re acting so weird?” Steve’s voice cuts through her subconscious ramble, making her frown.

“I’m not acting weird.” She dismisses, looking down at herself. Was she walking funny?

“You totally freaked out when Munson asked if Y/n was cursed.” Steve states and she gulps, shaking her head.

“No I didn’t.” She lies straight through her teeth, avoiding his eyes knowing she’d only spill her secrets to him. It never took much, just one look from her best friend before she’s revealing her entire internal monologue to him.

“And you acted weird after she had that vision.” He narrows his eyes, making her scoff.

“No I didn’t.” Another lie.

“Seriously?” He cocks a brow, suddenly placing his hand on her shoulder to pull her to a stop, eyes flickering to the group. “I’m not blind.”

Robin looks at him in exasperation. “Yes you are. I keep begging you to get your eyes checked.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m worried. I’m a worrier. I’m allowed to worry about people.” She shrugs, wrapping her arms around herself. If only it was that simple. Steve didn’t even look mildly convinced.

“You didn’t just look worried, Robin. You looked terrified.” His voice is low, a concern on his features she hadn’t seen since Starcourt.

When Robin doesn’t say anything, Steve reads her like a damn book. She was fidgeting, biting her lip and glancing back to the group every now and then. It hits him like a tonne of bricks, knowing the next words to leave his lips would no longer be a mocking tease he fabricated for a joke.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Her mouth opens and closes, and Steve has never once seen her speechless.

“Guys! Come on, we’re on borrowed time here!” Dustin’s voice shouts out up ahead.

If Steve was ever going to get an answer, he wouldn’t have heard it regardless. Robin scrunched up her jumper sleeves into her fists, lowering her head and marching towards their friends.

It took a hell of a lot of apologies and persuasion to keep the kids far away from this, but soon you were sat between Steve and Nancy in an old row boat, drifting away from the impatient teens you would once babysit.

“How’re we looking?” Steve asks you, peering over the edge as if the gate would magically appear.

“Getting close.” You say, relying on your instinct more than ever. You could feel it, the gate. And worse yet, it would trail goosebumps along your skin the closer you got, raising your anxiety into a frenzy.

“Better be, my arms are burning.” Eddie comments as he rows one of the oars behind you, his parnter-in-row nodding her head from the front.

“Not the exercise I wanted.” Robin huffs, feeling the burn of her muscles.

“Wait.” You suddenly signal and they both let out long sighs, relieving their arms of work. “We’re here.”

They all squint over the boat into the darkness, frowning.

“How do you know?” Nancy asks, the night sky refusing any kind of clarity on what could be laying beneath the water.

“I can feel it.” You shiver, nodding. “It’s directly below us, I’m sure of it.”

“Steve, what are you doing?” Nancy suddenly voices and you turn to see Steve removing his shoes, glancing up momentarily.

“Somebody’s gotta go down there and check this out.” He sighs, focused on removing his socks, “Unless one of you four can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain… and a certified lifeguard for three years, then…”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Eddie remarks, surrendering his hands, “I do not wanna go down there.”

“It’s pretty deep, you sure you’re gonna be able to find it?” Robin questions and you can physically feel the worry radiating from her.

Eddie looks down at the water, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, man. You’re not gonna be able to see shit down there.”

“Then I won’t stay for very long.” Steve mumbles as he pulls off his yellow jumper, dropping it at his feet.

“Just… dive down and come straight back up. Don’t stop and stare, okay?” You say and his eyebrow perks.

“Is the Y/n actually caring about me?” He mocks, but your hardened expression is deadly serious.

“I mean it, Harrington.” You hold his gaze, shaking your head. “It might have just been a warning, but we shouldn’t take any chances.”

Rather than reply, he just gives you a curt nod, baffled at the idea that you were so scared by what Vecna showed you, it left you in a state where you couldn’t find the time to tease him, if even just a little.

“Hey.” Eddie interrupts, holding out a flashlight wrapped in a plastic bag to Steve. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Steve breathes out, taking it gladly. He carefully moves to the edge, getting ready to jump.

“Steve?” Nancy stops him just before he jumps. “Be careful.”

The cold creeps in as soon as Steve dives through the water, sending shivers throughout your body. Even as you wrap your arms around yourself, you can’t control it, shaking as the crisp night air and the nervous wait set in. You squeezed your eyes shut to try and imagine you were anywhere but on a small row boat in the middle of a lake.

All it took was the touch of a hand to soothe your consciousness, alighting a small smile on your lips.

“You okay?” Robin asks in a whisper, undetected by Nancy and Eddie who were staring down at her watch with intensity.

“Yeah.” You slowly nod, meeting her eyes. The way she looked at you sent your heart soaring, not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just a little shaken up, I guess.”

Robin was unsure of how to comfort you. She had never experienced what you went through; trapped in your own mind by a demon powerful enough to render your body useless. The worst she had been through was Starcourt, strapped into a chair with silent tears running down her face like it was the last time she’d ever feel them. Even then, she hadn’t taken the punches like Steve had. The only torture she truly endured was that of her own making, the worst of her thoughts telling her she wouldn’t make it out alive.

Rather than speak, she squeezes your hand and doesn’t let go, turning back to Nancy.

“Where we at, Wheeler?” Robin asks and you feel her hand tighten around yours, almost as if comforting herself as well.

“Closing in on a minute.” Nancy replies and Robin lets out a shaky breath.

You didn’t understand why Steve was Robin’s best friend. Not that you thought he was a horrible person, not by a long shot. Yes, the constant bickering may have subjected the wrong message to people around you, but you did really like Steve. He was no longer the ‘King’, setting aside his crown for heroic duties and babysitting fiascos. But ever since you’ve gotten to know Robin, you’ve truly been questioning how two people with such different personalities could endure a life-long friendship like the one they were embarking on.

Maybe you were observing her wrong. Maybe Robin was a lot more than you could see on the surface. Regardless, she looked scared for her best friend right now. And you had been there before, plagued with a thousand worst-case scenarios while attempting a nonchalant attitude.

Steve breaks back through the water with a breath, Robin’s eyes widening in relief as her hands slips from yours, moving closer to the edge. You already missed the warmth of her touch as soon as her fingertips left your skin.

“I found it.” He gasps, swimming over to the boat after shaking his hair free of droplets.

“Dustin, you are a god damn Einstein.” Robin speaks into the radio, smiling at Steve. “Steve found the gate.”

“It’s pretty wild.” Steve nods, holding on to the edge as he bobbed in the water, “It’s more a snack-size gate than the mama gate, but still, it’s pretty damn big.”

Something you could only describe as a wave of dread flooded your entire body, piercing your ears until you couldn’t hear their conversation. You heard a humming sound… ticking. Just like you had heard at the Creel House all those years ago.

Even with Robin’s concerned hand finding yours once again as you freeze, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very very wrong.

And you saw it. Just for a moment, hidden beneath the glow of the moon against the ripples in the water, but you saw it. Something dark and long, like a snake. Like a…

“Steve.” You suddenly say, moving out of Robin’s comfort and closer to the edge, gesturing him towards you. “Get out of the water.”

Your hands were brushing against his arm, desperately trying to tug him out. He frowns at you.

“What, why-”

Cries echoed around you as Steve disappears beneath the surface, your fingertips resting just above the water as your warning slips into the deep.

You were too late.

taglist: @kryztalglear . @dejerw . @officerrrfriendly . @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean . @spacedoutdaydreamer . @endurexxsurvive . @em16cor . @gray-cheese . @chaosofmanyfandoms . @kitdjarin1 . @some-day--some-how . @cultish-corner

[maegalkarven]

I understand what you’re saying about the Chosen of the dead 3, but I think Orin and Gortash are in the same boat. She wasn’t part of the plan at all, she killed or tried to kill her sibling to actively be part of the plan. She wasn’t even Bhaal’s chosen, she forced into that position herself. And if her abuse is grounds for understanding, then I’d say Gortash’s abuse is too. Sold to a devil as a child and tortured for years until he escapes and he grasps at anything to be in control so no one can control / hurt him again. I think he’s a shit person that did shit things, but I do like the character. And I don’t think Orin’s abuse outweighs that of Gortash. Someone/something messed them both up really bad. Bhaal uses Orin’s bloodlust and trauma to get her to do what he wants, Bane uses Gortash’s fear and need for control to get him to do what he wants. Gortash isn’t more/less redeemable because he’s the smart one that put the plan together. Also being Bane’s chosen means if he fails, he’s tortured for eternity. After being tortured for years, I’d imagine he’d do quite literally anything to not end up there again. Either they’re both redeemable or they’re both not in my eyes at least. Ketheric is the most redeemable for sure, he started out with a decent reason at least.

Gortash is my absolute fav actually because of all the layers. He's a fucking onion.

"Trapped in narrative- escaping the narrative"wise Gortash is the only one who actively walks into His.

He could do anything he wanted after escaping Hells. He wasn't exactly chained up or forced to climb the ladder to world domination.

Back then he still had a choice, even if his mind, twisted and turned by being Raphael's captive, didn't want that choice. Because fear is a strong thing, fear can control person in the worst possible ways. I believe Gortash chose "be the worst ever so no one can hurt him again" road and narrative himself.

But he CHOSE it. (The same way, some might argue, Ketheric chose not letting Isobel go, but I think Ketheric simply wasn't able to let her go)

Orin is different because she didn't exactly force herself into the narrative; she had always been in the narrative. She was born into the narrative.

No Bhaalspawn is ever free and no Bhaalspawn is ever not Bhaal's tool. She would inevitably be put on Durge's path because Bhaal loves putting his children against each other and because only One Bhaalspawn can remain. She even tried to play by the rules and challenged Durge, who didn't take her seriously and refused.

Both Orin and Gortash are more tragic than Ketheric because they're broken children who can never let it go.

Gortash is willingly not letting it go while Orin is literally trapped in it (her family, her cult, Father Bhaal in her head).

Ketheric is someone who, if convinced he can actually redeem himself (and if Isobel is alive), would try it.

Orin can only be redeemed if you forcibly take her out of her cult and cut off Bhaal's influence getting DIRECTLY INTO HER MIND. (Bhaal doesn't really have children, only victims)

Orin could easily be on Durge's place, tadpoled and amnesiac. Tbh I feel like her losing memory is the only way she could ever break free because for her where was nothing but Cult and Bhaal. She wasn't allowed anything else. Confronted with the truth about her upbringing, she's horrified; she also had been punished by Bhaal before for disobedience, Bhaal commands her what to do and Bhaal literally strips her of her own will and body because this is what Bhaal does. But if we can claw her out of it, knock her memories away and cut Bhaal off? Then she has a chance.

That's pretty much the only way she can have it (there's a reason Jaheira calls her lost soul).

But Gortash would not want redemption because he was not forced into the path of tyranny. He chose it. He quite likes it up on the top. He's comfortable over there being the worst and selling people and giving explosives to children. The only thing better would be if he had someone to share his kingdom with, someone who gets his genius.

If put on the ground, he will try to climb right back again. He doesn't care about freeing himself because in his mind only on the very top is where he is free. This narrative not his cage, it's his castle, he build it and he's not giving it up.

That's why any attempt to actually "redeem" him would fail because he is Not Interested in That. He is interested in Power and Being the Biggest and Strongest. Also so ppl would love him, idk how he plans to balance it out with his tyranny, but he pretty much requires the gaping audience. Admire him, everyone.

I have several plots of dragging him off his high horse bc the other alternative is his death, but all these plots require things to be the way where he's actively stripped of power in some way or another bc only his own survival will make him somewhat cooperate on an equal level (one particular ally, durge or tav, but more often durge aside). He is not a team player. He pretends he is.

There are, sure, some AU salvations for him, but no redemption because He Genuinely Does Not Regret a Thing, nor will he.

Neither is Orin, but Orin is a broken doll with a god of murder in her head. She lost herself so long time ago no one even recalls it.

Gortash has himself because no one ever had him. He will do anything for his survival and this is why he does not want or require redeeming. Not dying from Netherbrain, that's another story. But he inevitably always serves his own interests first.

Orin fights for the awful love and approval of a cruel god, Ketheric's love for his daughter transcends her death.

Orin and Ketheric's narratives are two sides of the same coin.

"A child craving affection of a cruel parent" VS "parent doing unimaginable horrors bc of the love for their child."

Gortash is out of that particular narrative, his narrative is "There's No One But Me. Only I Matter. No one loved me so I will love me in excess. No one loved me so no one deserves my love".

It is an echo and awful influence of his tragic past, but it's something he actively chooses. He loves that narrative of his, even if it doesn't exactly fulfill him 100% (because it's lonely on the top. Because somewhere deep inside Enver Flymm still lives. Because he can't let Enver Flymm go no matter now pathetic that past self of his is).

His tragedy is of being lonely af and not admitting it/not having anyone to match him in his genius, but not his Tyrant Path. This one he chose for himself.

The thing is, of course gods use their Chosen ones. I think Gortash knows that, and I think he also actively uses Bane. He wears the coat protecting him from the fear and is a chosen of a Dread Lord. That's telling. He doesn't actually serve Bane, he serves himself and aligns himself with Bane for as long as it works for him.

[tokoumaru]

୨୧ haikyuu boys' music taste

feat. kuroo, tsukishima, akaashi tags. headcanons/fluff/established relationship tw. none!

synopsis. haikyuu men and their music tastes! (and how they show it to you)

kuroo tetsurou

you knew that kuroo had always lived with his father and his grandparents, but what you didn't know was how growing up with them affected his music taste greatly.

kuroo loved his grandparents to death and would always love talking about the environment he was raised in to you whenever he had the chance.

during a cuddle session, you had found out that in his youth, his grandfather would always bust out their old record player and play the most saccharine and not to mention- oldest love songs known to humankind.

afterwards, his grandfather would never fail to pull his grandmother up from the couch and bring her into the most sickeningly sweet slow-dance- all for young kuroo to see.

at first, young kuroo would always pretend to disgustingly gag at the sight, but as he grew older there would be a sort of longing in his heart that would hope he could do the same with his special someone in the future as well.

well, maybe he could, now that you're in his arms

"tetsuro! put me down please!" you giggled out as you tried to rip away your boyfriend's tight grip on your waist.

a few moments earlier, kuroo held you tight in his arms on your bed, his warmth permeating through your shirt. It was just your usual cuddle session, him whispering how his day went into your ear and you listening as you play with the stray strands of hair that hit his face.

though, right before he manhandled you, you saw the mischievous glint in his cat-like eyes and knew that something was bound to happen.

"just a moment, kitten"

smirking, he gently placed you over his should while securely holding you with his left arm. "wipe that stupid smirk off you're face, I'm going to kill you!" with your head hanging upside down you clawed at his back, careful not to actually hurt him.

kuroo let out a raspy laugh, giving your bum a light pat as he continued to move towards the little record player in the corner of his room.

"hm... no- not this one... too sweet... no- not this one either." grumbing, he fiddled with the stack of records, trying to search for the perfect song.

"heh... you're going to love this one, kitten."

after giving your bum another victorious pat at the discovery, he fished the pristine record from it's slightly old sleeve and placed it on the record player.

"this better be worth the interruption of our cuddle session and most especially the manhandling, kuroo." you grumbled as he gently put you down on the center of his bedroom.

gradually, the record player starts to play, and slowly do you start to recognize the familiar beats the followed through.

clock strikes upon the hour and the sun begins to fade

"tetsuro! out of all the possible songs-"

"may i have this dance, mademoiselle?" kuroo curtsied you with his head bowed, and although you couldn't directly see his countenance, you just knew he had that stupid smirk of his on his face.

still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away

"people don't slow-dance to whitney houston kuroo."

"who said we were going to slow-dance?" kuroo laughed as he pulled your hands and lead you into a little twirl.

i've done alright up to now it's the light of day that shows me how

unable to keep your façade of anger any longer, you couldn't help but let out a snort at your boyfriend, whose hips were shaking to the discotheque beat, pulling out the oldest dance moves from the book.

and when the night falls, loneliness calls

with crinkled eyes and a smile on your face, you soon decided to follow after him, the two of you dancing as if it was only both of you in this world.

some songs kuroo would love: I wanna dance by whitney houston, golden slumbers by the beatles, shes always a woman/vienna by billy joel, back to the old house by the smiths, just like heaven by the cure, foolish heart by steve perry, crazy for you by madonna, til they take my heart away by clair marlo

tsukishima kei

you knew tsukki brought his earphones everywhere he went with him, and if there was ever a time he'd forget them at home he would get really grumpy.

you'd always ask him what he was listening to, and at the start of your relationship he would be a bit hesitant to tell you- saying his usual caustic remarks

"tsukki, what are you listening to now?"'

"even if I told you, it's not like you would recognize who they were."

god, you wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face so bad.

but, as your relationship grew, tsukishima had started to open up more, and now every walk to school and walk home, he would silently offer you his left earbud and you would listen to his music together.

you'd recognize a few artists here and there, but you were clueless to the majority of it. though, you did think alternative/indie rock did suit tsukishima a lot.

sooner or later did you realize that maybe your boyfriend was right, because you really didn't recognize any of the artists you'd hear... so maybe he did have the right to be a bit pretentious about how superior his music taste was.

"ooh... I like this song tsukki! what's it called?" you gripped your boyfriends slender hands a bit tighter, trying to catch his attention.

both of you were walking home from karasuno, with tsukki just having finished his training for today. it was quite late, and the sun was in the midst of setting, it's pink hues covering the sky.

it’s only myself now, its just me

the sweat from the walk made strands of hair stick to your forehead, and you were a bit out of breath. you probably guessed your hair was a mess too, knowing that you forgot to bring your comb with you today.

so, as you turned to look at him, you're heart never would've expected to see the look of utmost love in tsukishima's eyes as he stared at your oblivious ones.

if you’d only considered it, this would end

you knew your boyfriend was never one for words, and that he expressed his affection towards you in subtle actions as well... but it was the first time you had seen him look at you so fondly. it shook your heart to the core seeing such a vulnerable look on your boyfriend's normally stoic face.

pulled out of your trance, tsukishima slightly leaned down and gently cupped your ruddy cheeks with his free hand, his eyes soft and eyebrows relaxed.

I wonder why it’s only you, it’s only you that comes to mind

"tsukki I-" you stuttered as you tried to form a coherent sentence, obviously struggling.

tsukishima, with emotional eyes contrasting his rigid face, held your cheeks for a second longer before he slowly tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

he didn't think you were as beautiful as you were in that moment, the last rays of the setting sun caressing your tired face in the gentlest of ways with the beat of his favorite song matching the way your hair swayed in the wind.

"it's... short hair by base ball bear... I can't believe you didn't know of such a well-known song."

that day, I realized my feelings after I touched your short hair

with his golden eyes narrowed, he quickly snatched his left earphone from your ear, leaving a lingering touch behind, before breezing past you with a faster pace than usual.

stunned, you stood there trying to process the situation, needing a moment to calm your thumping heart. though, if you had only turned your head, you would catch sight of how red the tips of tsukishima's ears were.

some songs tsukki would love: funny bunny by the pillows, transfer girl by base ball bear, aphrodite by the ridleys, she's got you high by mumm-ra, have I been a fool by jack penate, and maybe maybe by lola amour

akaashi keiji

as akaashi's girlfriend, you're immediately treated with the utmost respect and so much more.

because in truth, akaashi keiji is quite the romantic at heart.

during both of your's study sessions, he would always use his phone to play a few accoustic love songs.

he said it helped him focus better, and helped him distract himself from his phone (and the endless messages bokuto-san would send him)

the strums of the guitar would always help him calm down from his hectic school days, after all, his ears needed a break from all of bokuto's excited yelling.

and in moments just between you two, he always loved how the soft strum of the guitar accompanied the sound of your voice as you animatedly talked to him about his day.

rather than helping him focus, akaashi knew that when his favourite songs started to play, he only found himself looking at you.

when I told you that I love you well I never would’ve guessed

the quiet hum of your air conditioner was accompanied by the low bass of the song that quietly rang through akaashi's speakers.

both of you were on the small table in the middle of your room, notebooks filled with pencil marks and textbooks covered in pastel highlighters splayed throughout the surface. it was just another one of yours and akaashi's after-school study sessions.

as it was nearing your midterms, you both knew you had to study even more than usual, which explains the comfortable silence between you two caused by your (uncommon) will to concentrate on your calculus homework.

that you'd end up loving me, too, and well you know the rest

too focused on the numbers on the sheet, you didn't quite notice that akaashi had stopped reading his literature homework, and instead, started to admire you.

in that morning birds were chirping and the grass was wet with dew

with his hand resting on the table and holding his chin, he tilted his head and adjusted his glasses just a bit.

the rays of the afternoon sun passed through your blinds and hit your face perfectly, highlighting every feature he loved about you.

in such peaceful moments like these, akaashi couldn't help but take breather and observe the nuances of the face of someone he loved so dearly. to him, it was the way you pouted ever so slightly when encountering a challenging problem, or the way your handwriting got a tad bit sloppier as you hastily wrote down an answer to a question you recognized...

"akaashi keiji, you've been staring at me for 5 minutes now! don't think I didn't notice." without lifting your head up from your notebook, you lightly scolded your boyfriend.

"sorry darling, I guess I just spaced out." recognizing the slight curve of your lip in jest, he smiled softly and grabbed his abandoned pencil once more, returning back to his studies.

there and then I saw the world from a different point of view

though, not before sneakily glancing at your figure one last time, a fond look on his face.

some songs akaashi would love: germany & rome by the ridleys, my little corner of the world by yo la tengo, my favourite book by stars, kataomoi by aimer, please speak well of me by the weepies, golden by harry styles, fall by ben&ben, and layla (accoustic) by eric clapton

a/n. my first headcanon and post ever! though I think i've made my boys a bit too ooc HELP...... also! small disclaimer regarding the lyrics of short hair... welp the english translated lyrics were wiped off the face of the internet so I had to resort to google translate. I really tried to make it as cohesive as possible since I didn't want to change the song! I hope it makes sense because the lyrics I translated are not official.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Daughter of the Rain and Snow

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who put her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7 @cartoon-clifford @origami-butterfly @lady-a-stuff @thelibraryofalexandriastillburns @inej-ghafa-deserves-the-world @thatdelusionalnerd

If anyone wants to be added let me know :)

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's ptsd refernces, abuse references, implied sa references, addiction, non-consensual drug use, blood, and discussions of death

AO3 link: Daughter of the Rain and Snow - Chapter 99 - She_posts_nerdy_stuff - Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 98 - Maya

Maya woke up screaming. Or at least she would’ve done, if she had not trained herself to scream silently. It would not do to cry out from your nightmares at the Tulip Mill. 

At first she lay quite still, her eyes closed, not sure if she was awake or if she was just aware that she was dreaming. The shaky feeling of her own breaths rattling through her ribcage was her only company. Wasn’t it? What…

She was on the Geldstradt. She remembered that. Her head hurt. She remembered all of it. Oh Djel, she remembered all of it.

Of course she did. She did not deserve to be blessed with its absence.

The air smelled of roses. Maya breathed them in; a field of spring grasses and the sun on her face, a distant voice she might have known if she'd lived a different life. Perfume on her wrist, then someone’s tight grip pulling her away. She was screaming for her father and he was turning away and she didn’t know, she didn’t understand - 

Maya’s eyes flew open as she sat up straighter than an arrow, choking on roses and smoke and feeling hot, terrible tears streaking her cheeks. Shadows and ghosts chased her to the edge of the mattress and she tumbled off the bed, hands clawing at her scalp, mindless terror blinding her from sense or thought. And now there was someone there, someone’s hands were on her shoulders, oh Djel what had she done? She would be angry with her. This would not do. Close your eyes, hold your breath.

Maya was on the Geldstradt. She was not at the Tulip Mill. 

Close your eyes. Hold your breath.

It must have taken a good ten minutes for the Ravkan woman to get Maya to sit back on the bed. What was her name? Maya knew it. She was sure she did. She searched her mind to no avail. 

She wondered if she’d gone mad. It was about time.

The woman was saying something but Maya had forgotten to listen and now it was too late. She nodded, in case she was supposed to. Her head hurt. There was a boy in the room as well. She knew him too. Or she was supposed to.

Maya felt dizzy.

“Maya?”

She tried to force her eyes to stay open. She was quite sure she was supposed to be paying attention.

“Maya, can you hear me?”

Yes. 

You didn’t say that out loud.

Maya nodded.

“... need to…” 

Oh. Maybe she couldn’t quite hear her after all.

Nina. That was her name. Nina. Who had told her that?

Nina was still talking, and Maya blinked slowly before realising that Nina was holding something out in front of her. A plate.

“Maya, are you listening? You need to eat something,”

She wanted to. She really, really wanted to. 

There had been a reason she couldn’t, different here to at the Tulip Mill. But she was so hungry, and she couldn’t remember what it was. It couldn’t have been that important, if she couldn't even remember what it was. She didn’t even notice what she was eating as she took it. Nina watched her. How absurd. Maya might have laughed, if it was safe to laugh.

“... worse than I thought, but if she’s…”

It was the boy again. What was his name? He talked of strange things flitting in and out of Maya’s mind like water draining through a sieve, only the tiniest droplets managing to cling on. 

“... differently to Inej, there’s no singular point of…”

Inej. Inej.

Maya had remembered Inej a few minutes ago. Now she was slipping out of her grasp. Maya was supposed to say something to her… or ask something about her? Was she alive? Maya was supposed to ask if Inej was still alive. And if she was, she was supposed to apologise to her.

“Maya?”

Couldn’t they just let her sleep? Her eyelids were heavy, her head was pounding, the world was far too bright and it was hurting her eyes.

No. No she couldn’t sleep. She was supposed to… no, it was gone again. 

Someone was in front of her, and something cold was in her hands. A glass. She knew she should not drink. She knew that more than she knew that she should not eat. But her throat was a desert and her brain was shrivelling. And besides, she’d already eaten. Once you’ve bitten the apple, how much worse can you do? 

Celina liked apples. They were her third favourite fruit.

Where was Celina?

Maya’s third favourite fruit was pear. What a silly thing to remember.

Celina was dead.

Apples were Maya’s second favourite fruit. But Celina liked strawberries more than apples, and pomegranates more than strawberries.

Celina was dead.

Maya liked raspberries. Celina said they were probably in her top ten, but not in her top three. She liked pomegranates and strawberries and red apples, and when she went home she was going to eat them all until her stomach hurt. 

Celina was dead.

Maya wanted to eat raspberries and apples and pears. When Celina went home she was going to buy a thousand pomegranates and cut them open so they bled across the table, and eat them with her fingers so the juice dripped down her arms. 

No she wasn’t.

Because Celina was fucking dead.

“Maya? Maya, can you hear me?”

Nina again. She came slowly into focus as Maya nodded.

“Maya, can you say something for me?”

Maya wanted to shake her head. But she wasn’t supposed to. She shivered.

“Is Inej alive?”

She heard edges of the response, but it seemed to be positive. That was good. Probably.

Celina wanted to go home and eat a thousand pomegranates. Maya remembered her talking about going home, considering the thin little sheath of kruge she had hidden in her mattress. She remembered Celina swaying where she stood, crying, begging to be given her oblivion. She remembered wondering, if they ever had enough money, whether Celina would even be able to leave. Maya never reminded the older girl that she would not be able to follow her back to Fjerda, because she never dared to speak of her Grisha power to her. She didn’t know what she thought of it. But it had begun to look like neither of them were destined to leave this cursed, ugly city. Celina would be bound here to rot as she drank her tea, and Maya would be tied down by her own drug. By her pretty, bloody, throbbing vengeance. She never talked to Celina about that either.

But that didn’t matter anymore. Celina would not rot here, because there was nothing left of her to decay. She was ashes on the Reaper’s Barge, and Maya’s still breathing corpse was alone left to remember her. Not even the worms in this city were allowed to eat. 

Maya wanted to eat semla, with sweet almond paste. And raspberries. And pomegranates. And crisp red apples. She wanted to hear them crunch when she bit them.

Her head hurt. Had she already thought that? Well it still hurt, so it warranted thinking it again. She was holding a half-empty glass of water. She studied it for a moment, then took a sip. Or was it another sip? Probably. Maybe.

“Maya,”

She’d slipped again. Maybe. Her eyes ached. How could eyes ache? Maybe that was normal, and she had just forgotten what it felt like. 

“Maya,”

Oh Djel, she’d forgotten to pay attention again. They were impatient. Who were they? It didn’t matter. She needed to pay attention. She wondered if they would want her to apologise. Was it safer to be quiet, just in case?

“Maya, do you know what’s happening?”

Maya frowned.

“Am I sinking?” she asked.

That would be funny, wouldn’t it? If she drowned? Maybe funny wasn’t the right word.

Ironic. It would be ironic, if she was drowning. 

There was pomegranate juice on Maya’s fingers. She licked it. It tasted metal. It was not pomegranate juice.

“Am I bleeding?”

A brief pause.

“No,”

“Are you?”

Nina - yes, that was her name - looked confused. Could she not see the blood? That seemed unlikely. It was everywhere. Maya held her hand out.

“Look,”

“Maya, there’s nothing on your hand,”

“Oh,”

Maya sipped her water - again? Or for the first time?

Shit. What was happening? Something seized inside Maya’s chest, making her heart beat faster. 

“What- Wh- Why-?”

“Maya? Maya, breathe, there’s nothing-”

Maya gasped as something else took hold of her insides, and suddenly her heart was slowing back to a safe and steady rhythm.

“What’s happening?” she whispered, not sure if she’d meant to ask.

Not sure if she was supposed to.

“Do you remember helping Inej?”

Did she? She wasn’t sure.

“You extracted poison from her,”

Oh, that’s right. That was why she wasn’t sure if Inej was alive. But she was. That was good.

Maya nodded.

“When you did that,” Nina was saying, “you absorbed some of it into your own body,”

She kept talking, but her voice faded away.

Maya giggled. Now it made sense. Prayers were answered after all, it seemed, and Maya was going to get what she deserved. 

She had asked for oblivion and, she was sure, Djel had been more than happy to oblige.

[lanafofana]

Bereft

The missing angst fest we were deprived of in the Temple of Bhaal. Astarion x Female Durge. Much cursing.

The temple of Bhaal is silent. The companions stand in shock.

Denial is the first to crash into his chest. It slithers out of his throat without his permission. “No!” It’s a broken, confused whisper that curls around the hearts of those who hear it and twists. 

Astarion’s vision tunnels and all he can see, all he can smell is the body of his lover lying in a pool of her own blood. Divine, cursed, sticky blood, reclaimed by a selfish, jealous, unholy father. 

He goes to move forward, sucking in a shaky breath. There is only one obvious answer here, it’s not real. None of it. It’s a trick. A lie. It has to be. 

He has to see, he has to touch, he has to make sure. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees movement, a hand, an arm, something, someone reaching out to him. To stop him. 

“Get away from me!” He snarls, and he darts out of reach. The sudden movement spurs him forward and he collapses to his knees before…before…

His hands hover over a chest that does not expand and he makes an aborted noise between a moan and a wail. It lodges in his throat, choking him. 

The eyes do not flutter, the lips do not crack, the heart does not beat. 

Anger surges. “Get up, damn you!” His voice is hoarse,  threaded with something he can’t look at directly or he’ll splinter apart. He sucks in a breath through gritted teeth and tries again. “GET. UP!” He shakes a shoulder and then with both hands pounds against the chest that used to house his world. “Get up you miserable, selfish, stupid fucking cunt!” 

“Astarion.” The rogue does not know who it is and he does not care. He senses them near, too close, and he wants to draw his dagger and plunge it directly into their heart. Perhaps it would ease the throbbing ache within his ribs.

His fingers are gripping the fabric of his..of their…his hands are clutching her clothes in a white knuckled grip but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel anything. 

Something ugly shudders within him.That’s not true. 

He feels everything. 

The easiest to identify is anger. Rage. Hate. He wants to tear the throats out of every single person present. 

“Astarion.” 

He claws for his fury and tries to don it like armor. If he’s angry he can’t…he won’t…

He swallows thickly. There is something awful in his throat and if he focuses on it he knows, he knows, it will unravel and drown him. He can’t do that. He grits his teeth so hard it feels like they might crack. 

He curls in on himself, whispering into ears that can’t hear him. “Get up,” he begs, hating how it tastes on his tongue. Like ash and rat blood and long dark months locked in a crypt. His anger is a flimsy thing but he lunges for it, desperate. “You promised me,” he hisses. “You and me, you fucking promised me! So stop this and get the. Fuck. Up!” 

The corpse does not respond. 

“Astarion.” 

In one smooth motion he rises, spinning on his heel, drawing his knife and pressing the sharp edge against the soft delicate skin of a throat that swallows reflexively. 

Halsin raises his hands in surrender, his hazel eyes so godsdamned compassionate Astarion almost presses his advantage to watch it crumble like dust in the face of his own mortality.

“Don’t. Fucking. TOUCH ME!” His shrill voice echoes off the cavernous walls of Bhaal’s temple and over the druid's shoulder he spies the face of the god himself leering at him from the wall. A skull weeping blood, cold, and empty of its evil host and the feeling in his throat tightens again, a coiled viper waiting. 

The dagger clatters from loose fingers and he blinks down at where it rests, stained red with the blood in which it landed. 

He looks at his hands blankly, they feel like they’re full of pins and needles, scraping against the nerves of his palms. He’s shaking. Curling the white digits of his hands into fists takes focus but the bite of his nails soothes something inside him, gives him something to narrow his attention on. The trembling subsides. 

His clothes are soaked from kneeling in blood but he returns to her side anyway. He hovers his hands over her body, unsure, hesitant. Scooping her up he holds her to his chest and buries his face into her neck. It’s cold. 

There’s a horrible sound echoing around him and it takes a while to realize it’s him. It’s his voice that echoes around him. Wretched sobs, agony made manifest in the fragmentation of his composure. 

“You weren’t supposed to die,” he tells hers through hitching breaths that gust out from between his fangs unevenly. “You w-weren’t…it’s, it’s gone all wrong. How did it go so wrong? You won.” He turns his face towards the face of Bhaal but he can’t see it properly and he realizes it’s because he’s weeping. 

“Do you hear that?” He demands of the death god. “SHE. WON.” The stone walls of the temple are silent, dispassionate to the truth. Threading his hand through her hair he places his forehead against hers and closes his eyes, rocking her tenderly. 

She’s so cold.

“She won,” he chants to himself. Not a prayer. Not really. Hadn’t he already exhausted the pantheon once before? Hadn’t his prayers always gone unanswered?

Perhaps deities cannot hear the cries of the damned. 

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Post-Modern Prometheus (5x05)

He watches as Dr. Pollidori is quickly shoved into the back of the local police cruiser. The crowd gathered around glares menacingly at the scientist as he’s driven away. 

“Good riddance,” Izzy says, standing guard beside the FBI agent’s car where the Great Mutato is slumped over in the back seat. He has to fight a sudden urge to smuggle the guy a jar of peanut butter. 

Pushing himself off the car, he shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs. Izzy Berkowitz may look dumb to some. He may be obsessed with comics while struggling to survive a hicktown childhood with nowhere to go but conventions, but he is far from stupid. Looks can be deceiving. The Great Mutato has surely proven that to everyone here. And looking at the would-be mob milling about, like something straight out of a scene from Frankenstein, Izzy feels ashamed of his judgment.

Mutato being created by his crazy scientist brother wasn’t his fault. He was innocent in that act. Though Mutato knew what his father was doing to women within those fumigation tents while he danced to Cher and learned of the world — did he really understand how messed up it was? That a farmer artificially inseminated unknowing women to try to create his son a mate? 

Izzy cringes at that thought. Everything about this is messed up. 

He strides into the house where Agents Mulder and Scully are, about to tell them exactly that, when Agent Mulder asks, “Where’s the writer? I want to speak to the writer.”

Izzy blinks. “Huh?”

“This isn’t how the story is supposed to end.” Agent Mulder looks at him as if he holds all the answers. He almost laughs, but it’s clear within the agent’s wild-eyed stare that he’s used to being laughed at. Izzy can relate.

“Just because I wrote stories about the Great Mutato, doesn’t mean I know anything about the real him,” he admits, glancing over his shoulder at Mutato’s bowed head. “I think… I think maybe it’s his turn to write what comes next.”

Agent Scully frowns. “What does that mean?” 

“Let’s ask and find out,” Agent Mulder nods at the car. 

“Mulder-”

The agent shoulders past Izzy, flinging open the car’s back door. Mutato looks up with two sets of sad eyes and holds out his wrists, waiting for the cuffs Izzy hopes never come. 

Agent Mulder shakes his head. “If you could write a story for yourself, an ending that doesn’t involve experiments and isolation, what would it be?”

“I…” Both of Mutato’s mouths gape open. “Other than living in a world of acceptance alongside someone else like me, I’ve only ever dreamed of one thing…”

***

Then I'm walking in Memphis

I was walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale

Walking in Memphis

But do I really feel the way I feel?

Izzy’s smiling directly behind the FBI agents as the Cher sings to the Great Mutato in the front row. It’s like a dream: the claw-like hands of her biggest fan clapping to the beat and waving excitedly at the woman on stage. 

He looks around the crowded concert hall and chuckles at the irony. Many of these people are the same ones who’d questioned Izzy’s own creativity for years, yet had no idea they are part of a similar kind of creation: a genetically altered town borne of a father’s misguided love for his adopted son. The simple folk of this rural Indiana town are no different than the man they’d called Monster and chased with pitchforks. 

Maybe they’re all monsters.

Izzy kind of likes that. 

But there's a pretty little thing

Waiting for the King

Down in the Jungle Room

As the disco ball spins and the spotlight shines down on the Great Mutato shimmying in his seat, Izzy catches Agent Mulder reach across the table to squeeze his partner’s hand. “Something wrong?”

She leans over, a tiny smirk tugging at her lips. “Just curious if Jerry Springer is hiding behind that curtain too.”

“You think?” he teases, and she rolls her eyes. “Come on, Scully, have a little fun.”

Izzy can see Agent Scully’s brow arch as her soft smirk turns playful. “Only a little?”

“Ah, Scully,” he gives a lopsided grin, and Izzy nearly rolls his own eyes at their blatant flirting. For a guy who gets laughed at, women sure love him. Agent Mulder turns then and gives the Great Mutato a high five. 

And I sang with all my might

And he said "Tell me, are you a Christian, child?"

And I said "Man, I am tonight!"

The energy in the room swells with the chorus, urging Izzy to stand and sway with the rest of the town. As Cher walks down the stairs and reaches her hand out for the Great Mutato to hold, welcoming him onto the stage beside her, Izzy feels that warm sense of acceptance Mutato had mentioned wash over him. 

Walking in Memphis

But do I really feel the way I feel?

Agent Mulder suddenly stands, bowing his head and reaching out his hand for his partner. Agent Scully seems as awed as Mutato had moments ago before sliding her hand into his, grinning gorgeously at him as he tugs her close, his one hand grasping hers as the other dips down to palm her lower back. They dance slowly, their eyes locked and noses nearly touching. 

Izzy snorts.

Dang, the way they’re practically swooning in each other’s arms reminds him of the covers on his mom’s romance novels. He does roll his eyes then, looking up at the Great Mutato as he joyfully dances with his idol on stage. But if this is how this story of a man-made monster who’s never harmed a living soul is supposed to end, then he’s happy to watch two FBI agents gaze at one another under a disco ball. 

Put on my blue suede shoes

Izzy shuts his eyes and says, “The End.”

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on AO3!

@monikafilefan

[oohnotvery]

Throwing Good After Bad (Chapter 17)

Scully

The deck of the yacht is pitching violently in the storm and only Scully’s childhood training from her naval captain father is keeping her standing. Her injured ankle screams at her but she ignores it, shoving aside thoughts of physical discomfort; she will deal with that later. The boat rears and bucks and she braces herself, clawing with bound hands at Mulder’s shoulder, but he goes down, his shins slapping the planking.

Unsteadily, she hauls him to his feet and they brace against each other and the railing as the boat moves. Ahead of them, Evan stands easily, one hand clamped to a rail and the other hand pointing the gun.

Deep in her gut, Scully knows Mulder is going to do something crazy. She can feel it in his energy, in the way his eyes scan the boat wildly, in the way his body presses her protectively behind him. But he’s weaker than normal, spent from all that throwing up on the boat ride over, and he never has been any good on the ocean.  

“Mulder,” she warns over the roar of the storm, “stay with me.”

He nods like he’s heard her, but she doesn’t quite believe him, so she grabs onto the belt buckle of his jeans, the best she can do with her hands bound as they are.

Evan takes a few steps closer and Mulder’s hands try to reach around to shake her off.

“Let go of me, Scully,” he warns.

“What are you doing, Mulder?” she asks, gripping him tighter. Just three feet away, Evan has the gun aimed directly at Mulder’s chest.

“Down the stairs, into the cabin,” Evan directs, jerking his head towards a set of stairs leading below deck.

But Mulder crouches and lunges, slamming into Evan’s knees, knocking him off balance and sending his gun flying into the air. Dragged forward by her hold on his jeans, Scully collapses to the deck with a painful crack to her knees. Mulder raises both hands to smack Evan across the face but Evan is quick to block the punch, ducking and rolling before kicking Mulder in the chest.

But Scully isn’t focused on their fight. As the boat lurches to the side, she sees Evan’s gun start a slow slide down the deck. She dives for the weapon, clambering over Mulder and Evan’s brawling bodies. Her fingertips brush the butt of the weapon and she surges forward, kicking someone in the face as she does. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices a lifeboat that appears to have been lifted and strung up, as if it’s ready to go at any moment. She stores that information away for later. As the boat yaws to the other side, the gun slips from her fingers and rattles away from her.

“Sculla-a-y!” Mulder yells and she glances behind her to see a large wave crash over the edge of the boat, sending streams of seawater running onto the deck. Still on hands and knees, she scrambles to grab anything she can hold—a rope—as water sloshes brutally around her.

The deck is so slick from the storm that she slips and falls trying to get her feet out from under her. With her hands bound, she can barely push up to kneeling again, and by the time she is on her feet, she sees that Evan has Mulder in a chokehold.

“Let him go!” she screams, running unsteadily towards the pair. Without his hands free, Mulder has lost this fight.

She’s grabbing desperately for Evan’s shoulders but the man is quicker than she; he slams Mulder’s head into the wooden deck before shoving her partner towards the stairs. She screams as Mulder tumbles down into the main cabin.

For a split second, she lunges towards Mulder, who she can hear moaning below. But then she spots it, shiny and slick with rain and seawater—Evan’s gun.

She’s only got one chance.

Ignoring the pitch and roll of the deck, she runs towards the gun, grabbing handholds where she can and dragging herself forward. She’s stretching out with both hands when she feels it—strong hands grabbing her shoulders and yanking her backwards. She screams in frustration as Evan pitches her down the hatch with Mulder. Her head slams against the wall as she tumbles down and she lands with a grunt on top of her partner.

Inside the well-lit main cabin, it takes her a few seconds to get her bearings—the rolling motion of the ship doesn’t help—before she’s crawling off of Mulder with an anguished apology. She helps turn him onto his back before feeling around his forehead and skull for wounds. Finding none, but noticing that Mulder’s expression is dazed and his complexion pale, she helps him scramble to standing. She has just enough time to take a breath before Mulder starts shoving her towards the back of the cabin, his hands gripping deathly tight to her shoulders.

“Don’t argue with me, Scully,” he warns darkly, sweat and rainwater rolling down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. And with one final shove, he’s pushing her into an open door and slamming it shut, locking her into some sort of dark, cramped closet.

Scully wails in anger and pounds at the door, banging and screaming for him to open it back up, to let her inside the cabin. She has no doubt that Evan has recovered his gun and will be just furious enough to use it if Mulder does anything else reckless.

“Mulder, let me out!” she shouts, slapping her palm against the door. She jiggles the handle and finds it won’t budge.

There’s a scuffling noise on the other side of the door and she starts banging her fist again. She needs to get to Mulder.

“Mulder, I swear to God—”

A gunshot goes off. Someone screams in agony. She freezes, her hand poised to knock again.

She knows that scream.

All the blood rushes from her face as the door wiggles and swings open, revealing Evan, sweaty, flustered, soaking wet, and holding the pistol in his right hand.

Scully shoves past him in terror and finds Mulder collapsed to the floor, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open in agony. She dives to her knees and starts scanning him for the wound, checking first his head and then his chest. Finally, she sees blood bloom across the top of his shoulder—a non-critical location— and she breathes out a low, relieved sigh.

Behind them, she distantly hears Evan dragging something around the cabin, but she ignores it in favor of Mulder.

It’s awkward tearing at his shirt with both hands bound, but she manages to pull back the collar enough to study the wound closely. She presses down hard on the area and Mulder’s eyes wince open in pain.

“I’m so sorry,” he exhales raggedly, and she shushes him, shaking her head.

“It’s just a graze,” she says honestly, but he looks like he’s in more pain than he should be. “Mulder?” she asks nervously when his face starts to grow paler. “Mulder?” She tears anxiously at his shirt, searching for a hidden wound, something she hadn’t caught on her first examination. She’s about to beg him for an answer when he sits up and pushes her away so hard that she falls to the side.

And then he turns over and starts to vomit.

“Oh,” she murmurs, army crawling across the floor to touch his back soothingly.

He coughs violently and turns his head slightly to look at her.

“I’m not done,” he rasps, and she’s about to tell him that the sick feeling will pass, but he cuts her off with a low voice. “I’m not done with him. You’re getting off this boat alive, Scully.”

“Mulder—”

Behind them, Evan’s voice calls out. “If you’re done throwing up the contents of your last meal, would you two like a moment to say goodbye?”

Scully glances back at him and sees what he’s created: a set of heavy gray cinderblocks, to which he has attached two thick ropes of metal chains. It’s so simple that it surprises her.  She swallows, lifting her eyes to Evan’s. She recalls the lifeboat, ready to go, ready to plunge into the sea at any moment. She suddenly knows his plan.  

“You’re going to drown us,” she whispers. “You’re going to chain us to those blocks and sink this ship while you get out scot-free on that lifeboat.”

Evan swallows hard but doesn’t respond. His fingers twitch nervously. At her side, Mulder retches again and instinctively, she reaches out to pet his hair.  

Evan gestures towards Mulder. “Say your goodbyes.” His voice is clipped, strained. Scully studies the cinderblocks again, imagines dying slowly underneath the slip of the sea. She doesn’t want to die. She doesn’t want Mulder to die.

Her eyes fill with tears and she meets Evan’s gaze, watches the way he avoids looking at the cinderblocks. There is something human there, right beneath the surface.

“I know they were yours,” she whispers.

Evan’s entire body freezes.

She twists her body to face him more fully. “I know they were your children,” she tells him. “The two who drowned. You were their father. You’re not some tourist guide down from Vancouver; what’s more likely is you’re next-in-line for leader of the Black Sands.” Her heart beats rapidly. At her side, Mulder starts to push himself to sitting. “Isn’t that right? Isn’t that right, Evan?”  

He studies her for a long, hard moment, the only movement in the room the unnerving swaying of the boat around them.

His eyes flicker towards the darkened windows. “They died right on that beach,” he says quietly, tears glistening in his eyes. “Right in front of me. Before I even knew what was happening, they stopped breathing.”

“And you think that killing me and Scully is going to make it better?” Mulder interjects, his voice raw and hoarse. “That it’s going to end your grief?”

Evan shakes his head sadly. “That’s what you outsiders can’t possibly understand. This life requires sacrifice. The people I loved most in this world were taken from me. Violently. Horrifically. It was a clear, direct message straight from Heaven, that what we were doing was wrong. That the sacrifices we were making were wrong.” His voice hitches. “For years, we’ve been murdering our own people, thinking this was what we were called to do.”

“And you think murdering outsiders is any better?” Scully asks in disbelief. “Do you not see the mental gymnastics you have to perform to make that leap?”

Evan shakes his head. “I actually like you both. I genuinely do. I don’t want to see either of you die, especially not in the way we have planned.”

Her stomach tumbles and briefly, she thinks she might also throw up.

“But this is what is required.” Evan pauses for a beat. “I got a radio message about your bathing ceremony. I heard it was especially moving for many.”

“That was private,” Mulder snarls.

Evan raises his hands defensively. “Not the bath itself, you’re right. That was just between the two of you, as you requested. But the revelation of your relationship; of the love you have for each other; of the way you, Mulder, intended to sacrifice yourself for her.” He pauses, then laughs. “I will say, we never could’ve dreamed of a better gift than the two of you. The love you share, the bond you have. Nothing is more sacred—and thus more costly—to us in the Black Sands than the bond of love.”

“Are you kidding me?” Scully asks. “You sacrifice people unwillingly, in apparently quite violent ways—”

“Never,” Evan interrupts with a growl. His head shakes back and forth vehemently. “All of our sacrifices have been willing participants. And they all die in the same, relatively peaceful way—blood loss from a cut to a major artery.”

Scully gapes. “And yet you’re planning on tying us to a sinking ship, so we can slowly drown?”

Evan’s eyebrows crease. “I never said that was how you were going to die.” His eyes flicker over the cinderblocks and back to them. “You will die, and it will be bolder and brighter than how the others have died, that is true. But we must demand Heaven’s attention. The sacrifice of your bond of love will save our community. It will restore us to equilibrium. Because the love I have as a father—the love I have for my children—must be atoned.”     

“You’re right,” Mulder speaks up. “Nothing is more sacred than love.” Scully glances back at him, suddenly nervous again. Her partner is a ticking time bomb. He meets her eyes briefly before shifting onto his knees, a supplicant’s position. “Nothing could be more sacred, more special than a man choosing to sacrifice his life for the woman he loves.” His eyebrows crease plaintively. “Please spare her. Take me and only me. You said the past sacrifices went willingly. I will go willingly. I have more than enough love for her to make Heaven happy. Nowhere on this goddamned planet is there a love bigger than what you’ll find here in my heart for this woman.” Scully’s hands start to tremble. “Please. Let her live.”

Evan’s expression falters. The air around them seems to go still; even the boat seems to rock more gently as Evan—and Heaven—appear to consider Mulder’s request. Scully holds her breath. If Evan does let her go, she still has a chance to save Mulder.

And then Evan shakes his head. “Say your goodbyes.”

Mulder slams his hands into the floor, swearing violently. Scully turns to him and sees the hopelessness, terror, guilt, and anger there—that was his last chance. She swallows past the lump building in her throat. She will not let their last minutes be spent in agony. She raises her bound hands to his face and strokes her fingertips along his jaw. He opens his mouth to speak but neither of them has words. In disbelief and despair, he shakes his head. And she leans forward and kisses him, opening her mouth to his even as he mumbles an apology about getting sick earlier.

But she doesn’t care about that. She kisses him until her eyes start to brim with tears, and then she moves her lips to his forehead, then his cheeks.

“Was that a goodbye kiss?” he asks weakly, his complexion pale and lifeless.

Biting her lip to keep from sobbing, she shakes her head. “I promised you that this is not the last time we’re together. In this life, or in any other life. My soul will always find your soul, Mulder.” She believes it. She has to believe it.

“Oh, Scully,” he whispers weakly, tipping his head to her shoulder.

Evan gently extracts them from each other and Scully lets the tears run freely down her cheeks as he secures metal bindings around her handcuffs, attaching her to the cinderblocks. Evan attempts to move Mulder next, but her partner makes one final attempt at a getaway; Evan pistol whips him across the back of the head, looking slightly regretful at the violence. Mulder drops to his seat at Scully’s side.

She leans into him, tears and snot soaking his shirt, and presses a kiss to his shoulder, which is still bleeding. She tastes copper on her tongue.

“Together,” she tells him, and means it.

He meets her eyes hopelessly, looking sad and lost. “It wasn’t meant to end like this. You were supposed to live.”

“Not without you.”  

Evan comes to stand over them and Scully presses herself into Mulder’s side. She wonders what will happen next; how painful it will be; how much they will suffer; who will succumb first.

He looks between them for a long moment, seeming to consider something. Mulder presses a kiss to her cheek, and a whispered I love you ghosts across her skin.

Unable to form words anymore, she tips her forehead to his shoulder. And then Evan disappears. When he returns a moment later, he has a Zippo lighter in his hand, which she notices is shaking.  

Her brain starts to blur as she makes the realization. At her side, Mulder’s body tenses up, a terrible phobia-driven fear rising and cresting through his muscles.

And that’s when she notices the cannisters. Dozens of them. Up on the deck; down here in the cabin too. She suddenly remembers the rowboat’s trips out to sea over the past few days. How did she not realize? How did she not make the connection?

Evan pours out thick cans of gasoline all over the cabin floor. She assumes he will do the same thing above board before dropping the lifeboat into the ocean and paddling away. If that fails, he can always catch a ride with Jules and Harlan, who are supposedly still waiting for him.

The stench of gasoline fills her lungs. Beside her, Mulder quakes.

Evan stares at them one last time, the lighter in his hand. It flickers, a flame dancing before his eyes. And then he drops it to the floor.

The cabin springs up in flames.

So, this is how they’re going to die, Scully realizes as smoke starts to fill the cabin. Not by water, but by fire. She can’t decide which is worse.

Evan sends them one last regretful look, then disappears through the cabin door.