#wish us luck and good reasonable politicians!

[makerscockandballs]

GERMANY IS VOTING ON EASIER NAME CHANGES TODAY!

It would make not only trans people's lives much easier, but also allow adult kids of divorce to choose their surname and give more culturally significant name options to certain minority groups like the Sorbs!

[rockyp77mk3]

Right my side lost and your side won. I am trying to understand but I want to know what is the big difference between the Progressives and conservatives? Why do Progressives piss off conservatives so much? We only want equality and fairness.

Thank you for the question. These questions are deceptively simple but they require somewhat complicated answers. I will try.

Oh, I am not just a conservative. I am a Constitutional Conservative which means that the Constitution is considered the supreme law of the land. It is the guide against which all legislation, taxes, regulations, and issues are judged. It applies equally to all and is therefore a protection for all. It can only be changed by amendment and is not subject to any foreign law or restrictions even those promoted by the UN.

Since I like checklists I will try to answer your questions in some kind of order.

Problem solving. When presented with a problem Conservatives try to solve it using known facts and reason. Progressives tend to use spending and regulation. I have never witnessed a Progressive try to solve a problem (Or perceived problem) in any other way than raising taxes or sponsoring legislation that further truncates our individual rights.

Control. Progressives seem to love control, either being in control or being controlled in every aspect of life. They want to tell or be told what people can own, how far people can succeed in life, what people can think, what people can eat, what people can drive, and lets not forget what people should do with the very money they earn. In that last one Progressives are content to confiscate wealth through taxes for redistribution to their liking. Conservative just want to be left alone. We want to keep most of what we earn, we want to enjoy our enumerated rights unfettered by social pressure or governmental overreach. We would like government to literally get the Hell out of our lives.

Lack of tolerance. When a progressive gets an idea they believe it to be so good that it must be shared with (Inflicted upon) others even at the point of a governmental bayonet. Socialism for instance, also limiting 2ND Amendment rights, private property rights, etc. Conservatives don't care what you want to do as long as we are left alone to do what we want to do. If you don't like guns, fine, don't own one. If you want to be a socialist fine, get fifty of your closest friends and create a commune, I wish you luck. Do what ever you like, just leave me and my rights alone.

Happiness. Conservatives seem to be relatively happy. Progressives aren't happy unless they are angry or upset about a situation that either happened over 100 years ago or is an isolated incident, or is just something with which they don't agree. Progressives aren't always right but they are always certain. In that pseudo certitude they are willing to trample any and all rights. Individuals be damned the cause is all.

The US is always wrong. No matter the issue Progressives will unerringly take the side of anything that goes against the US. Progressives will support despots, terrorist groups, rouge nations, and criminal politicians as long as those support the inherent anti US sentiment of the hard left. Conservatives acknowledge that the US makes mistakes, sometimes hideous mistakes but at our core we are generally damn good. For example, if Kamala had won you won't see too many Conservatives wanting to leave the US. We are Americans and will stay and fight to the last.

Equality. Progressive want an equality of outcome. A guarantee that all people will have the same success. They call this "Equity". Conservatives believe that equality means that all people will have a fair chance at success. That hard work, effort, and inventiveness will pay off. You can't ensure outcomes only starting points.

There are more but you get the idea. By the way, Progressives don't piss us off all that much, we just don't want you in charge.

[stardustloki]

Re-calibration

Fox takes longer than usual to emerge from the place he goes inside his mind whenever he’s sent on a blackout mission by the Chancellor.

When Bail Organa finds a barely-aware Fox wandering the corridors, he finds himself growing seriously concerned.

Read it on ao3 here.

Or below the cut.

The hour was late in the senate building on Coruscant, and Senator Organa ambled slowly back to his office. The normally bustling corridors were calm for once, and he relished in the silence, nothing to be heard save for the mouse droids’ quiet trills.

He’d been with Mon and Padme, ostensibly meeting to discuss yet another bill that would never pass. One that hoped to halt the chancellor’s ever-growing control, the control that no-one else seemed particularly concerned about, as if the other senators somehow hadn’t studied history or political theory and so weren't aware that dangerous politicians tended to amass power in times of crisis, using people’s fear as a buffer against any inconvenient questions. It infuriated him.

They hadn’t discussed the bill for long, however, and the conversation had soon moved on to less terrifying topics, their laughter flowing freely with the bottles of red wine Mon had bought to go with their meal. However much he worried, he had good friends, and he was glad of them and the evenings spent together, forgetting any troubles they had.

As he made his way towards his office in order to retrieve a datapad he knew he’d need for tomorrow, the slight warmth of the wine still gently flushing his cheeks, he thought longingly of the comfortable bed that awaited him back at his apartments. Soon, he could drift off to sleep.

Gradually, his ears picked up on the unfortunately-unmistakable sound of steps approaching from the opposite direction. He sighed internally. It wasn’t that he was unsociable, far from it in fact, but he had been enjoying the uninterrupted peace, and didn’t particularly look forward to having to nod politely at whoever rounded the bend, he would far rather have kept up the peaceful illusion that he was the only person in existence at this hour.

To his surprise (and relief), the person who rounded the corner was Commander Fox.

“Commander,” he greeted, smiling at his luck that the footsteps hadn’t belonged to someone from Orn Free Taa’s circle. Fox was always pleasant to interact with, professional, albeit a little strange and nervous at times.

Fox stopped dead and stared at him. He didn’t return the greeting.

A bad feeling started to settle in Bail’s stomach.

“Are you alright, Commander?”

Still, he didn’t speak, continuing to stare at Bail as if waiting for something, the only sign he’d registered anything the slight tilt of his helmet.

He didn’t have to be a jedi to know that something was very, very wrong here.

“Could you take off your helmet for me please?”

Fox took several seconds to process his request before complying, reaching up to undo his helmet’s seals with hands that had too much of a tremor in them for Bail’s liking.

What the removal of his helmet revealed was a patchwork of bruising and grazes, clearly fairly new, some still oozing trickles of blood, and far more extensive than the usual one or two injuries that Fox usually seemed to be sporting on the rare times he took off his helmet around Bail. Fox would always evade his questions over his everyday injuries, a slightly hunted look on his face, as if he’d forgotten that Bail could see his expressions when he wasn’t wearing his helmet. He was probably fine, Bail usually reasoned, quietening his concerns that Fox shouldn’t be injured when he had a helmet with theories about spars and roughhousing with his brothers that perhaps the Commander didn’t wish to admit to.

These injuries, however, were not the sort that he could just ignore, though they weren’t even the most worrying aspect of this situation. No, what concerned Bail Organa the most was the way Fox stared at him, face utterly blank of recognition, gaze slightly unfocused, as if he were a very basic droid in human-form, waiting for Bail to tell him what to do next.

The warmth of the wine seemed to have disappeared, leaving him feeling cold, and very, very afraid.

“Do you remember what happened to you?”

A small frown appeared on Fox’s battered face, and he appeared to focus more on him, but he didn’t move to answer.

Bail thought quickly. The Commander was either drugged or suffering from a fairly severe concussion, potentially both. Given the direction he’d come from, and that the direction he was headed was the guard barracks, he may well have been attacked by someone within the senate. Someone wanting information about the security of the building or other senators, maybe. Potentially even a separatist informant. 

The whys weren’t what was actually important now, he could focus on them later. What was important was keeping Fox safe. He couldn’t be sure that Fox would be able to manage the walk back to the base, and that was without even considering who might find him if Bail just left him here. He didn’t like to think ill of others who worked in the senate (though this was incredibly difficult considering he spent many days working with them), but he had an awful suspicion of what some of them might choose to do upon finding Fox like this, quiet and compliant.

And, Bail thought as he studied Fox, so very, very young.

Often, with their quiet professionalism and air of competence, Bail forgot that the oldest clone was at most in their early twenties, but, looking at the Commander as he was now, he didn’t think it had ever been more horrifyingly obvious.

“You’re going to follow me,” he said. Fox nodded.

Bail’s head spun as he walked quickly towards his office under the dim glow of the corridor lamps, all thoughts of a peaceful late-night stroll abandoned as the commander followed half a step behind, matching his pace easily.

He’d need to call the guard, get a medic up here to look at Fox, tell them that Fox had been attacked and suggest they search any footage so that they might find the perpetrators.

Once his door had swished shut behind them, he told the Commander to sit on the couch and watched as he did so immediately, sitting still and stiff, staring into the distance and waiting. Nausea and relief warred within his mind, nausea at what could have happened had he not found Fox first, relief that he’d done so. Then again, who knew what had happened before Bail had found him?

He pushed the thought aside and opened a holocall to the guard. After he’d relayed the key details, he looked up to see the commander slumped unconscious on the couch.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Fox!”

The commander’s eyes flew open, and he looked around, startled, before his eyes landed on Bail. The momentary - dare he say - terror displayed on his face was immediately replaced with a blank expression, and Bail might have been afraid that Fox was returning to his previous state, only his gaze remained focused, and there was a slight frown creasing his forehead that would never have been there five minutes ago.

“Are you back with me?”

Fox pushed himself quickly to his feet, swaying slightly as he stood. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again, sir.”

Bail Organa gaped at him, and it felt as if it took several seconds for him to regain the power of speech after the absolute absurdity he’d witnessed. “Sit down! Commander, you’re concussed.”

“Oh. Right, sir. Sorry, sir.” It took him several seconds to follow his directions this time, as if he wasn’t sure that he was hearing Bail right.

As Commander Fox stared down at the floor from his seat back on the couch, posture tense, fingers grasped together in his lap so tightly he wondered if it hurt, cogs started to turn in his mind.

“You don’t remember me telling you to sit the first time, do you?” he asked quietly. “You don’t remember how you got here.”

When Fox looked back up at him, his jaw was tense and serious. “Of course I do, sir,” he replied, voice unnervingly steady. “We met to discuss security arrangements. I’m just a little tired, that’s all. I know it’s unacceptable, sir. It won’t happen again.”

Bail sighed. “Good try, but that’s not true. I found you wandering the corridors, clearly unaware of what was happening around you. I brought you back here to make sure you were safe and called your medics to check on you.”

He watched Fox swallow, bite his lip. The fear from earlier, that he’d done his best to hide, slipping back through his mask. “Are you going to have me decommissioned, sir?”

He frowned. Decommissioned, as in… retired from the army? “I think that would be a little extreme,” he told Fox. “Considering it was hardly your fault you were beaten and drugged.”

He nodded, and seemed to relax some, but his white-knuckle grip remained.

“Commander Fox, do you know who attacked you?”

The commander remained silent, before shaking his head.

This was not good. What was worse was that Bail wasn’t sure he believed him.

“Alright then,” he grimaced, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

“Doing flimsiwork in my office, sir.”

Bail really wasn’t sure that he bought that, but he doubted pressing harder would get anything out of him. He’d just have to make enquiries himself.

Thankfully, at that moment the office doorbell chimed, and he walked over to let the corries in. He stepped back to allow the medic to pass, and then ushered the others towards his kitchenette.

“He was attacked and, I think, drugged,” he told them seriously, watching the medic shine a light inside Fox’s eyes. “Probably by someone in the senate building, which means either someone gained access, or it was someone who worked here. If the Commander allowed them to get close to him, I fear it was the latter.”

“That seems like a reasonable assumption, sir,” Commander Thire said.

“He wouldn’t speak. He did exactly what I told him, like he was a blank slate,” Bail continued. “It’s worrying. More than worrying. I found him in the corridor to the right of this one, and he was coming from the direction of the main offices, so that’s where you should start checking the cameras.”

“Checking the cameras, sir?”

Bail blinked. “Yes. For your investigation.”

“Investigation into what, sir?”

He was going mad. “Into whoever attacked Fox!?”

Even through the helmet, Bail had a sense that Thire was uncomfortable. “But he’s a clone, sir. The investigation wouldn’t be valid, and we’d never be able to prosecute anyone.”

Right. He now hoped he was going mad. That was a horrifying thing to hear, for several reasons. He glanced over at Fox, who was having his bruises prodded while he stared morosely at the medic who was checking him over.

“He’s the commander of the coruscant guard, brought here to keep us safe,” Bail said quietly. “If he’s not safe here, what hope does anyone else on this force-foresaken planet have? Besides, whoever attacked him may secretly be separatists, they may have been getting information from him. Surely, you have a duty to investigate this?”

“Even if you give us permission to investigate this, sir,” Thire replied, “what happens when we need to make arrests? The chancellor won’t be pleased.”

And well, if this didn’t just prove that the chancellor was corrupt. He supposed he would have felt satisfied to be proven right, in any other circumstance.

“The chancellor cannot impede a legal investigation.” Bail felt sure that all of the corries were staring at him dubiously through their helmets. “Look. If you don’t want to discover who attacked your commander, that’s fine. I’ll investigate it by myself.”

He glanced back at Fox, who was staring at him with open horror on his face, before he realised that Bail had turned to him, expression turning shuttered and grim.

“Or maybe I won’t,” Bail heard himself lying. “Maybe you’re all right. What do I know about senate corruption?”

The atmosphere in the room instantly relaxed. Bail couldn’t help but feel that was, in fact, a bad sign.

Later that night, or rather, very early that morning on three cups of caff and no sleep, found Bail Organa striding through the empty halls, R2D2 at his side.

What he was doing was, probably, (very definitely) illegal, but R2D2 had sliced into many separatist bases, anything Republic made should be a piece of cake, Anakin had assured him. (He’d thanked Anakin for the loan of his droid, and deliberately hadn’t questioned why he was half-dressed in Padme’s apartments at four in the morning).

After gaining access to the security holos, he traced Fox’s steps back from where he’d come across him last night, frown growing deeper and deeper as it became more and more clear that Fox had come in the direction of the offices of those who held the most power in the Republic.

Then R2 shrieked, and there was the footage of Fox, leaving the Chancellor’s office not ten minutes before he’d come across him in the corridor.

A heavy ball of ice settled in his stomach.

No. Surely not?

Thire’s words from the day before echoed in his brain. “The chancellor won’t be pleased.”

No, he told himself, that’s ridiculous. Why would the chancellor have beaten Fox? Have drugged him?

But what if?

He had R2 scan the footage for the time that Fox had gone in. It had been hours earlier.

And, when Bail had found him, the cuts and bruises on Fox’s face had been fresh.

[tinyvesselhearts]

(Egon x You) Thing Is: Chapter 12

“Oh, shit. It’s the Mayor.”

Your eyes snap open.

You sit up in an instant, hypervigilant, surrounded by dust particles lit by soft sunlight. It takes a minute before you realize that everything’s actually okay. The sheets are a crumpled ball of warmth, the sun seeps in through the window. It’s the station again, the sightly ashy ceiling and the familiar siren wailing from downstairs. All you remember from yesterday are scraps: an emotion, a fear, an ache. And yet, here you are— safe, dressed in your own pajamas, all alone in Egon’s bed. No reason to panic. No reason at all.

Your heart’s still racing. Breaths are heavy. Something’s changed, something’s off. You can’t put your finger on it and that’s enough to take your peace away.

You lay back down. Bury your face in the pillow. It’s fine, it’s alright. Maybe you’re experiencing some ghostly haziness— it’s not like you’re taken over by an ethereal alien every day, after all. A quick nap should iron it out. Just a few more minutes and you’ll be as good as new. They boys will understand. Just this once…

You’re just about to drift away when familiar blurry silhouette approaches your cot.

“Thank God you’re awake”, Ray whispers, leaning over your bed. “The Mayor’s here. Pete’s trying to talk him out of a lawsuit. Stay here, alright?”

You prop on your elbows and turn your head around, then squint— because, heck, if he’s trying to wake you up, why is Ray whispering? It’s late morning— must be around nine, nine- thirty or so…

Wait, what?

“The Mayor?”

“Yeah, yeah”, says Ray. “Don’t worry, He comes and goes. Peter’s got a way with politicians.”

A heated conversation rumbles through the walls. Pete’s voice sounds as confident and cheerful as ever but the Mayor— presumably— doesn’t seem pleased at all. New Yorks’ representatives stop by from time to time so it’s not unusual but dread creeps up your back the moment you realize…

“…Oh, shite. Is it about the mansion?”

“Yeah, we’re kind of screwed. Too bad we didn’t get a chance to get a second look but hey, you weren’t officially there so we’ve got you covered.”

You frown, blink a few times, then sit up.

Shouldn’t he be more bothered by this? Right, the boys get in trouble with the law on a regular basis. Ray’s probably used to it by now, that he’s entire demeanor is relaxed, casual— if only slightly annoyed (ah, yes, authorities, how convenient). They always wiggle their way out somehow. That’s what they do. But if their luck runs out one day, the charges will snowball into life behind bars— and the mere thought makes you flinch.

“But I was there”, you look at him. “Saw what happened. You were doing your job! Can’t I testify?”

“No. Zip, zip, I mean it. We were all seen at the hospital that night, you didn’t even go to the emergency room. And that’s good! It’s great! That means you’re in charge of the case if we get incarcerated.”

Your face falls.

“You must be joking.”

“Hah! I wish I was.” Ray laughs, hands on his hips, then immediately turns sheepish. “Hey! Not that I don’t believe in you, no offense—”

“No, no, none taken!” You wave your palms. “I agree. Let’s hope Peter saves the day.”

A bang of some distant door is followed by Peter’s loud voice. You look at Ray with wide eyes but he shrugs.

“Meh, he’s doing alright. The Mayor failed to maintain the mansion for decades. It’s somewhat on him, too.”

Ah, that’s why Ray seems so casual about this. That’s understandable— the guys are recurringly raided by a variety of government officials so today must feel like a regular workout. For you, however, it’s a lot. You have no idea how long you’ve slept but it feels like a giant leap in time. It’s refreshing, yes— the lightness in your heart, as if yesterday’s events happened a lifetime ago— but a shadow is hanging over your head. A foot in the door to newfound peace.

“Nah. I gotta dress up”, you say. “I’m hungry. I need to do… something. Anything. Everything.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Ray pats your arm with a wide, warm hand, flashes a genuine smile and leaves the room. There’s some yelling coming from downstairs, some door slamming, screeching of wheels, and then— expectedly— Peter adds his two cents because there is no possible way he’d give up having the last word.

It takes you two minutes to get out of bed. Six to freshen up. Three to determine whether you should or should not change into Egon’s clothes (because it’s been okay so far, it’s a thing) but ultimately, you decide that no— not this time, you should really get out of his hair. Your crumpled sleeping two- piece has to do. It’s decent. Ray didn’t comment on your sleeping circumstance, maybe Peter won’t either.

The very instant you leave the room, you see him— Egon— he’s alright, he’s okay— who climbs the stairs and freezes the moment your eyes lock.

His face is blank. He’s quiet. All the courage you’ve mustered evaporates in a snap.

When he finally speaks, it’s as casual as ever.

“You’re awake.”

“You’re alive.”

“As I said, it’s difficult to die”, he states. “Extraordinarily so.”

“Yeah, sure, but nothing about yesterday was ordinary. It’s—"

“…in the past.” He approaches you, lifts your chin and smirks. “We’re moving on.”

You keep looking at him as he inspects your features. The touch is gentle. Systematic. Careful and you know it all too well: it’s exclusive to his tinkering, the machines and inventions, only present when he’s left to his own devices. Toprecious things. That’s new. Whatever happened while he was busting the ghost out of you must’ve shaken him up.

“Mhm. As I suspected. Beautiful.” He straightens. “You may experience headaches, fatigue, dizziness and muscle pains but otherwise you’re perfectly fine. I recommend aspirin with your breakfast.”

“…I’ll take some. Thanks.”

“Do you have a moment? I would like to show you something in the lab.”

You nod, absent- minded, rubbing at your chin where his fingers lingered a moment ago. That’s unusual. Egon’s never been so direct with physical contact… has he?

Whatever your mind is trying to push through, in reality it’s probably nothing. You must be experiencing some spiritual jetlag: slow thinking and clouded judgement, all spiced up with a throng of unanswered questions and guilty conscience. Egon’s right though. You’re all moving on and it’s high time you caught up.

You walk past the garage, where Ray and Winston are leaving in Ecto- 1. Peter’s guiding them out, gesturing to let go of the siren for once— the Mayor’s people must still be in the area. Janine’s on the phone, rummaging through the drawers with such urgency she doesn’t pay attention to you walking by. That’s what it looks like: another day at the Ghostbusters’. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, to the extent you’re forced to question whether the spiritual influence you experienced the day prior wasn’t a dream.

“Ray wasn’t surprised to see me”, you say at the last flight of stairs. “Do the boys know?”

“All things pertaining to the case, yes.” Egon admits, eyes down. “I apologize for taking such liberty. It’s a major turning point and I couldn’t withhold this information. It’s the sixth time we’re getting called about amphibious ghostlike creatures roaming through New York. It’s a plague.”

“Mm. The Mayor was unwelcome, I take it.”

He throws you a brief look, then proceeds. “Do you feel any different?”

You ponder, tailing Egon descending the familiar stairs. The door to the lab is ajar, which never happens: an undeniable proof of how thrilled he is with the discovery.

“Yes. It’s quiet in my mind, for once. No whispers at the back of my head, no need to burst out crying for no reason. It’s something.”

“Feelings of uneasiness? Anxiety? Existential dread?”

“No. I’m just grateful to be alive.”

“I share the sentiment. In a day or two, we might purge the mansion for good. What we have at our disposal now is powerful. Needless to say, I’m thrilled beyond what my hormones usually allow”, he pauses at the door. “After you.”

You enter the laboratory. The cool light enveloping tools and papers is refreshing, clean air clashing against the heat and steam clouding in the garage. On Egon’s desk, far away from the microscope, there’s a huge, ugly helmet you recognize— the wires tangled in a knot only Egon himself can understand, odd antennas protruding from its top. You walk up, reach and touch the glowing tips.

A pillar of warmth stands right behind you. Egon’s breath tickles the hair on your neck. Dust particles hang still in the air between your bodies, so close you almost touch— like when he helps you gear up— when you use his microscope— like so many times before. You can’t see him at all now. Your eyes are focused on the weird, pointy device but when Egon’s forearm brushes yours, your stare shifts just enough to observe his hand rest on the contraption.

This dance between you two has been going on for a long time. It’s not like this, it never is, but you struggle to keep your breathing even.

“Remember the Collective?” He murmurs. “Turns out their consciousness, being shared through the ether, is prone to alterations. Removal. Addition. Substitution, in an almost surgical manner. I made this device for that specific purpose. Peter called it a yap- cap but it’s more nuanced than that. Take a look.”

He switches on the translating pad. Some symbols appear on the screen before a thin, vertical line pulses on the far right. To your surprise, he uses the buttons to type: I want to go home now and all it takes is one press of a single green key to translate the phrase into Eldritch symbols. Just like that, an electric wave pulses through the antennas, the helmet charges with power and glows with blue light. It’s that simple.

“The message is transmitted through the ether to the helmed recipient and travels until it finds an ectoplasmic structure. A ghost can’t distinguish it from the Collective so it builds a narrative around the inserted thought and accept it as a fact.”

Unbelievable.

“You literally made the ghost think it wanted to go home.”

“Correct.”

“And… it just left home.”

“Exactly.”

“Egon… that’s fantastic.”

“I’m wildly aware”, he grins.

You bark out a laugh. The helmet looks like a giant jellyfish. The pad is a literate calculator. All the mystery, the horror, the haunting— all the destruction and pain brought by Eldritch horrors— everything undone by a designer’s worst nightmare: a glowing sea urchin hat. The yap- cap, as Peter calls it. Ah, that one’s going to stick.

Egon is a genius. The simplicity of it disarms you. In this rapidly changing world, the cybernetic reality where every technology requires a cascade of complex developments just to come up with a novelty, Egon thought the simplest way to deter some ancient ghosts was to talk them into defeat. It couldn’t be more straightforward. All data were copied and transferred, every bit of the Eldritch language, the translating software and the device itself was made here, in this lab. He’s done it all with Ray’s help. This man is a genius but chooses the simplest solutions.

The simplest solutions.

“…Can it be used on humans? To… Hack us into thinking differently?”

Egon is silent and you can feel his stern eyes on your back. You realize how that sounds and God it’s awful— but that’s not what you meant so you rush to clarify.

“I mean, is it possible to erase some memories? To change what we’re susceptible to?” You swallow. “To let go of… destructive tendencies?”

“Technically, yes. But the outcome is unforeseeable. Whatever ends up happening, one change could affect your entire life. Mistakes, however unwanted and painful, shape who we are in the end”, Egon’s voice is serious. “Thankfully, you were not affected.”

“What if I wanted to be affected?” You turn around, not daring to meet Egon’s eyes. “You were right when you said I was attracted to the paranormal. And I hate it. My uncle is the closest I have to a dad now and I can’t keep doing this without feeling guilty about it, about betraying him. He’s never going to approve of me getting involved with you, guys. I just… I could fix this. I—"

“Look at me.”

You do.

His eyes are warm. Steady, understanding. Pupils are wide, graced with the dim light surrounding you. Some distant shadow blurs his locks into a dark cloud. Your own reflection lurks in his glasses. The sight takes your breath away.

“You don’t need to be fixed because you’re not broken”, Egon murmurs. “Don’t expect him to approve your every choice. Love doesn’t work this way.”

“But I want it to”, you whisper like an absolute fool and a single tear rolls down your cheek because your wish— so pure, so simple— doesn’t hold merit. It’s pathetic, a lost cause. He’s right and you know it.

Egon raises an eyebrow, eyes warm and playful.

“Do you, really?”

You blink a few times, bow your head down and laugh. It’s quiet and breathy. It’s full of grief— and pain, and sadness, and acceptance, and joy. You wipe the stray tear with the back of your hand. Only then, broken and mended, are you able to lift your gaze and meet Egon’s unwavering stare again.

“No, you’re right. I’ll give you that one.”

He smiles.

“Do you want to raid the mansion with us tomorrow? Ray’s setting up the car, we’ll gear you up.”

“Won’t I become an offender as well? Ray said…”

“We’re the Ghostbusters. We’ll cover up for you.”

“You’ll get in trouble.”

“It’s worth it.”

Words get stuck in your throat. The circumstances are different but intimate enough so before you have the chance to overthink every little gesture, you lean in and press a gentle peck on his jaw. He inhales— good?— frowns— bad?— so you step back with a tight smile.

“Thanks for everything. I mean it. I owe you.”

Long fingers wrap around your hand. Egon’s stare doesn’t waver— not now, not yesterday, not ever— as he lifts your fingertips with a gentle motion and (in a mind- boggling, unprecedented turn of events) presses his lips to your skin— and it lingers— it lingers— it stays.

It’s a kiss.

He pulls away. The air he breathes is warm.

“You owe me nothing.”

_____________

HOPE I DIDN'T MAKE ANY MAJOR MISTAKES- IF I DID, I AM TERRIBLY SORRY!

[serious-ancient-slavery]

SLAVES FOR ARABIA

THE TALE OF STUDENT ALEX TURNED INTO ROWER Q 167.

At the end of this entry you will again find the the cover of the first part of my slave-trilogy, a historic fantasy, transmitting the past to the present. You can get it for your e-reader on Amazon for just $7,99. The preface, containing my ideas about the apparent attractiveness of old style slavery in film and fiction, and about the conception of my novel, you can read there for free. As I already announced, I will regularly publish the next few paragraphs from the text of that preface here each time. If you don't want to wait for that, you can go to Amazon for the rest of it straight away, as for the book itself.

PREFACE TO THE HORNY AND EXCITED READER

EPISODE 2 (for EPISODE 1 see further down)

Slavery nowadays is illegitimate, forbidden. But the forbidden is attractive, or at least: being forbidden is not always an obstacle for being attractive. Also in modern, civilized society, cherishing its values of freedom, equality and peaceful interhuman relations as an ideal, in the dark corners of the human mind there often is to be find slumbering - and not always just slumbering - a desire for the crude and cruel, for the bloody and brutal, for the unequal, for the violent, for the abuse of power. For all those things we better don't practice in daily life, if we wish to live happy together. For all those things that not without reason are liable to punishment, or at least would infringe the social rules and make you an outcast. But that apparently never is or has been a hindrance for indulging those forbidden needs in fiction.

   Why have horror movies become so popular, as have been horror books - the famous 'gothic novel' - in the 19th century?

   Why could the nearly never ending American television series Game of Thrones, being all crude and cruel, bloody, brutal, unequal, violent and full of abuse of power, during those eight years from 2011 to 2019 boast on so many fanatic spectators? All moral values it did contain were completely at odds with our modern values. Anyone who would behave and act in our real world like one of those popular heroes in this screen-fiction-world, we would hope to see summoned soon to the International Criminal Court in The Hague. And indeed, a mighty emperor like Charlemagne - nowadays sometimes presented as the patriarch of the European Union - would have landed there because of the often Game-of-Thrones-like methods he used to convert the Saxons or to subdue other peoples twelve centuries ago.

   Nevertheless even contemporary politicians sometimes in their speeches referred to the series. Where they, deep in their heart, jealous of all those kings and queens and warriors, who could just do what they liked, who didn't bother about good manners and regulations and troublesome contradicting colleagues, till they collided with somebody more powerful than they themselves?

   And then, let's not forget one crucial point regarding our subject. Also in this television-fiction-world, inspired by our own western ancient/medieval/early-modern past (it was a mix of all), slavery was self-evident. It was present and a, in a moral sense more or less neutral, never questioned aspect of social relationships in those fictional warrior-societies: the logical fate of those who lost a battle. Those who were enslaved after such a lost battle just had a run of bad-luck, they should have better cared for not losing it. Were there really plenty of spectators, among the millions looking to the series, to mourn about their fate at that moment?

   Or let's take another American tv-drama-series, called Lost, broadcasted just before the former, during six seasons from 2004 till 2010. The subject as such was modern: it was a fictitious story about the survivors of an airplane-crash on some mysterious island in the Pacific. But inserted in the as a whole rather artificial concept - with flashbacks of a far-away past of several of the main characters - was a strange episode called 'Ab Aeterno'. In that episode one of those main characters turned out to have arrived on the spot already in the eighteen-sixties, as an inhabitant of the Canaries, who, because of being accused of murder, was sold as a slave to be transferred in chains to the New World on a dangerous trip by an old slaver.

   Apparent this rather inveracious side-story was thought by the screenwriters to be an exciting element that would enhance the delight of the spectators. Because of introducing slavery into the narrative?

To be continued.....

[renneiscent]

Two Sides of the Same Coin

Note: All of the names from this story are fictional and I apologise for messy writing even though I already did my research.

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Chapter 2: A Lost Kitty

It’s been a year and half that I’m working in the Racounter. It’s pretty big company in the Northernbridge—a pretty big city and takes about 12 hours to fly here from Duskwood. I think I use all of my luck in my life so that I can work here. When Racounter was still a start-up, it already managed to be a dream company for everyone that wish to be journalist. Why wouldn’t it be? When this company always managed to be the first for getting so many information about important people; from artist, public figure, singer even to the politician—it feels like the people upstairs are having powerful backup or just simply dauntless to reveal all those dirty secrets from those important people.

But then here I am… a year and half yet still don’t have any breakthrough, just a girl who is bringing their coffees and doughnuts to other staffs. I take a deep breath as I’m looking at my hands which full with their orders. As the lift’s door is close, I’m watching at my reflection there.

Look at you, MC. Three years ago you were like an official investigator who helped finding a lost young girl, even interacted with the perpetrator, negotiated with the police officer, and almost got hacked by some weird guys. But right now? You back and forth to pick up your colleague’s coffee order, print their works, help their articles, and not even make a damn single work about your own project as the journalist?

I let out a long sigh as the lift’s door is open and walk out, heading to the office. I put my smile as I try to shrug it off whatever burden I just thought inside the lift, I’m handing their coffees and then put two boxes of doughnuts I just bought on the office kitchen’s table. My eyes are staring at every single of them, they look so busy and so cool. I wonder if they used to be in the same position like me. Can I even get out from my job as an errand girl and instead do some proper stuff like a good journalist I want to be?

“Nothing will change if I only stand still like this,” I tie my hair as I walk to my cubicle. Opening tab after tab and reading every file I can manage to collect. There must be some information that quite useful to get dug out. I try to contact everyone I know, from my school friends, to my neighbours, even the Duskwood’s chief police officer—Mr. Alan Bloomgate.

After what happened in the mine, few days after that then Alan called me to explain about everything briefly. I had no clue that time why the hell he didn’t ask me to come to Duskwood after everything that happened, especially when he was so intrigued for me to come to Duskwood. But then Jessy explained that Lilly asked Alan to not involve me any longer since Hannah already safe. Of course I thank Lilly for that. It’s not like I don’t want to go to Duskwood, I’m just not ready yet. After everything, after Richy and after Jake… there is no crucial reason for having little vacation there.

ALAN: I’m sorry MC but I don’t think there is big news here ALAN: Which I’m quite thankful for MC: Not even a robbery or another kidnapping case? ALAN: You are not serious, are you? MC: Sorry, I’m just quite hopeless ALAN: I pretty much understand ALAN: If that’s the hackerman of yours are still around, I’m pretty sure your job must be easier

Well, he is not completely wrong. Jake must be helping me out to get some pretty good information that I can use for. But it’s funny how Alan just brings him out of nowhere; I guess Jake is still on his nerve which is quite understandable and why not? When Jake hacked his stuff and even erased my name from police’s document as witness. Not to mention how FBI, that FBI invaded Duskwood for days just because they couldn’t find Jake in the mine. If only Jake and Alan met each other, it would be a completely chaos.

MC: Yeah probably MC: Anyway just write to me please, if there is some worth-to-post news MC: You wouldn’t mind if I ask for help, would you? ALAN: Of course I will gladly help ALAN: I will keep in touch

ALAN IS NOW OFFLINE

As my conversation with Alan is ended, I continue to read every collection of information I just have. Actually, I have no clues what am I after but I will do anything to make my own article… my own investigation. I couldn’t just always keep assisting and helping my colleague, right? Even though it’s part of the work but still…

“Miss Clarke, until when will you stay here? It’s already late, you know? I understand that you love our office so much, but please go home.” The voice behind me startled me; I look behind and find the man is fixing his scarf. William Ambrose, my colleague who managed to enamour not just women but also men in this building. He looks like coming out from romance novel; light brown hair, toned and tall body, a pair of captivating green eyes. Not only by appearance (or even his last royalty name), but his personality will make everyone fall for him too. I will be lying if I said that my heart never flutter with his demeanour; how on earth your heart is not beating so fast when a gorgeous man is being nice at you?

Just like another story I found amusing to tell to Jessy, I also told about him to her. I don’t even need to guess with her response which is of course she is shipping me with him and tell me to hit on him and move on. If only she’s not my friend, I would like to make her as geese’s treat.

I take a glance at the time on my desktop’s screen; it’s already this late huh?

“I guess you are right. I didn’t even realise it’s already this late,” I immediately tidy up my things as I chuckle. “Thank you for reminding me, Mister Ambrose. Are you going home?” I continue as trying to make small talk while my hands are busy to clean up my desk.

“Bet you were drowning in your work again.” He smiles while heading to the door, “I will love to walk you home but I have something important to catch up. Do you mind if I go first?” My hands stop putting my stuff inside my bag as I look at him, my brows furrow.

“That’s a strange question,” I laugh. “Of course I wouldn’t mind. Please go.”

“I thought we are in the same page, but it seems not.” He replies quietly before giving me his smile. I frowned hearing his words. “Well then… see you on Monday, Miss Clarke.”

He waves his hand to me before walking out from the office. Sometimes he can be really strange and I still don’t catch whatever reason behind his strange demeanour. Is it late puberty or hormones? I shake my head and then shut down my computer before heading to the lift. There are still some people pulling all-nighter in this building, I greet some of them which people I know.

Just as my heels heading out to the entrance of building, I can feel the night breeze brush my cheeks. It’s already this late so the taxi fee will be much expensive rather than the usual one. I want to save up more money that’s why I choose to walk. Perhaps if I’m lucky, I can catch up the train. Luckily, I’m wearing my comfy heels which make me easier to walk especially when passing this dark, sloppy and muddy alley.

I choose the dangerous path, I know. But I need shortcut, and also I don’t want to get really wet because of this sudden rainfall pouring out of nowhere—England and its beloved rain.

“Remind me why we need to do transaction in this filthy place?”

As I heard someone’s voice, my feet stop immediately. I quickly hide behind the cold and mossy wall. No, I didn’t intend to eavesdrop just because I’m a journalist and need material for my articles. I’m hiding because I’m scared with whatever transaction they are talking about is dangerous and they may or may not murder someone who accidentally passing by.

“The stuff we are doing is illegal if I need to remind you, sir.” The other man with hoarse voice scoffs, “do you suggest that we are having luxury and fancy dinner in Michelin star restaurant while handing these rare items to the one of important people in UK?”

My eyes widen in surprise as my heart is beating so fast. This is why I need to hide. Should I just go back to another way or maybe, just maybe… I can peek and take a quick glance, just a quick glance for recognising whoever those people are.

I take a deep breath before exhaling it slowly, trying to comfort myself to remain calm. I take small and quiet steps then peeking behind the wall. Damn, I didn’t think about the coat they are wearing to cover their faces. I cannot even recognise the single feature from this distance especially when the rain is making it much harder to identify them—them… not just two people there, but I think it’s 10 people if I’m not mistaken. It’s hard to be certain. I should just back off since I still have chance. It will be nightmare if those people notice me here.

BRAKK—!

I forgot there is dustbin behind my back as I stepped back slowly. My body is in freeze and I’m unable to hear anything besides the rain falling. Just before I want to move, there is a sudden figure covered by black coat in front of me. My body immediately response and snap me back to the reality. I’m sprinting with all of my power, running away from whoever that person is, because I know, if I get caught then…

I’m running and passing through the alley, I cannot do this anymore. I’m almost out of breath as my stamina to run is decreasing. Just after I turn to the left, someone is pulling me harshly and pinning me against the wall. As reflex, of course I want to scream, but that person’s hand already covering my mouth.

“Shh,” he shushes me. I look up and want to see whoever this person is, but he is covered with hood and mask. The only thing I can see is his gaze which watching the alley, waiting and monitoring if those people can find us.

As both of us are waiting for the situation to be clear, our gap is closer thus I can hear his heavy breath. My eyes are trying to take a good look from the man in front of me; he is larger than me so whoever he is will be a new death threat after those people. My head is busy making scenario how to escape or even defend myself from this guy till it makes me so dizzy.

“You keep meddling into bizarre and dangerous situation,” his deep and quiet voice is realising me from the scenario I have been thinking. He pull away his hand which covered my mouth before, his eyes now are staring at me. I can see his blue eyes are swallowing me. “Did you enjoy it?”

[magicalgirlfumiko]

“...It’s never crossed your minds that with the defeat of Nanami and Camelia going into hiding, that we’ll be seeing more rogue elements of the magical girl community appearing? Furuzeki is a hot spot for a reason?”

“....Isn’t your job to be the politician? You’re a mage of an old time family. I ain’t. I had to focus on other stuff.”

“Why would magical girls be bad guys? We’re symbols of hope and friendship!” 

“Listen, Precure. That’s well and good when the city itself wasn’t like a Lovecraftian fuglord. We’re going to attract all sorts of youkai and people with down on their luck attitudes. If you make a wish, it’s not always one that’s for the greater good.” 

“Then we should be doing our best to spread more cheer to this city. I know! I can set up fliers and we can all make cookies for the local elementary schools! Makoto-senpai is a teacher after all! We can pretend that she’s in charge of a school club!”

“While I think Red is a jaded brat...I don’t think cookies will help in our case. And I am not a school teacher....most of the time.” 

“Then how about we use Roxanne’s holy sword to puncture the area where all the leylines are? Then it can suck up all the dark energy!”

“My holy weapons is blessed by the Church. It is not a vacuum cleaner.” 

“Geez....My teammates are all a bunch of grumps. Hehehe.”

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Ruki Maniac [Epilogue]

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

ー The scene starts in an unknown manor

Ruki: ...Haah.

Yui: Everything alright?

Ruki: I’m fine...However, it can’t be denied that this place holds many bad memories for me. I can’t help but feel somewhat down.

Yui: You had...a good reason for coming here regardless, right?

Ruki: ...Yes.

This is hardly the time to ponder over bad memories from the past. I will go investigate, so you stay here. 

I’ve made arrangements so we can stay here in comfort for a while. Will you be alright without me?

Yui: ( I guess he doesn’t want me to tag along... )

...Yeah, sure. I’ll wait here, okay? 

Ruki: Sorry for leaving you behind. I’ll get going now.

ー Ruki walks away

Yui: ...Ruki-kun!

Ruki: What’s wrong?

Yui: I’ll be waiting so...Come back soon, okay?

Ruki: ...

ー He approaches her

Ruki: Don’t look so anxious. ...It’ll be okay. I promise I’ll be back.

Yui: Yeah...I’ll be waiting.

Ruki: I’ll try to come home as soon as I can. ...Nn. 

*Smooch*

ー He leaves

Yui: ( ...My worries got the best of me and I stopped him from leaving. )

( I’m sure that this place brings back lots of complicated emotions for Ruki-kun...So I’m worried. )

ー The scene shifts to the city

Ruki: ( ...I should have expected as much, but things have changed overtime. )

( Yet, the memories of this place which have been engraved in my mind have not disappeared at all. )

( That being said, there was only so much information I could gain in the Demon World. )

( That is why it was necessary to come here. To this place...which lies the closest to the history of Trismégiste. )

( As uncomfortable as it makes me feel, I must go. ...I suppose the library would be my best bet if I want to search through documents. )

ー The scene shifts to the Romanian library

Ruki: ( There are quite a few books on the topic seeing as this is the country of its origin. I suppose I made the right choice by coming here. )

( ...I am sure there are things I would rather not know inside these books as well. )

( I have to make up my mind. For Eden and my brothers as well. ...I must not turn a blind eye to the truth. )

Monologue

In what followed, I began to collect a wide selection of books,

before starting to read through them one by one. 

And by working my way through that enormous mountain of books,

there were a few things I learnt about.

For starters, there most definitely lived a man named Trimégiste,

in this country at some point.

This individual in question possessed mysterious powers,

as it was rumored he wandered from town to town,

to heal the sick and diseased.

This rumor eventually caught the attention,

of the President who had a daughter who suffered from a severe illness. 

When Trismégiste managed to magically heal his daughter as well,

the President did not hesitate for a single second,

and put his full faith into Trismégiste. 

That is how the two of them became friends. 

However, it should go without saying,

that not everyone was so thrilled about this turn of events. 

The noblemen and politicians, for example.

Ever since he managed to get on the President’s good side,

he would soon enough become the target,

of several people trying to bring him down or even assassinate him,

but none of those attempts were successful.

No matter how dire the situation may seem,

he would once again rise from the ashes like a Phoenix time after time.

A certain someone would describe his ability to always narrowly escape death,

 far beyond the point of it being sheer luck, as follows:

ーー ‘That man is the Devil.’ 

Meanwhile the President saw his survival as a miracle,

and only became more and more captivated by Trismégiste. 

Whatever it was he wished for,

the President would make sure it happened.

This marked the beginning of the downfall of the whole nation.

As a result of being won over by Trismégiste’s sweet words,

the President decided to completely cut ties,

with all the people who had supported him thus far. 

He even began to use the Nation’s public funds,

imposing high taxes on the masses. 

To keep the population and taxation yields high,

the abortion law was abolished,

but those living in poverty did not have the extra money to raise a child.

As a result, many were abandoned by their parents at birth,

as young children who grew up on the streets or inside the sewers,

began to terrorize the city.

This crisis went on for many years,

but eventually a time would come where the population revolted.

This would go down in history as ‘the Revolution’. (1)

The President was executed at the end of this Revolution,

as the population finally regained its freedom.

Trismégiste was said to have been supporting his dictatorship from behind the scenes,

and was therefore executed alongside him,

by being publically hung on the town’s square...or that was the plan, at least.

However, they say that his corpse,

mysteriously vanished in thin air.

And nobody knows what happened to him afterwards. 

ーー Any book covering the story of Trismégiste,

ends with his execution and disappearance. 

But there is one writing,

which mentions that perhaps a loyal follower of Trismégiste,

might have carried his corpse away after his death.

However, this is but a mere speculation,

and nobody knows what actually happened.

Ruki: ( ...I suppose the information I gained at the Sakamaki Castle was correct after all. )

( The President’s dictatorship. Many abandoned children, the Revolution...These are all things I remember from my personal past as well. )

( Since I was born into a rich family, I did not experience all of these struggles first-hand, but it can’t be denied that such a tragedy took place in this country. )

( I was too arrogant to realize that I would get involved in all of it. However, I had no idea... )

( That behind the scenes...there was someone pulling all of the strings, Trismégiste. )

ー Ruki recalls his Father’s words again

Ruki’s Father: He whispered a couple of sweet words into the president’s ear and had me removed by the president himself! How am I supposed to stay positive under these circumstances!? 

ー The flashback ends

Ruki: ( I suppose it was also his fault that my Father, who was a merchant as well as a member of the council, was removed from his position. )

( Because of this man, Fatherーー )

( ...On that fateful day, he took his own life. )

( It was not just my Father I lost. My Mother no longer harbored any feelings for my Father after the situation had changed him and decided to leave the house together with her new lover. )

( That is how I was brought out into the world, all alone...having lost my family, my money as well as my home. )

( ーー If Trismégiste has actually been Karlheinz-sama all along. )

( It would mean that I...have been loyally serving the very same man...who is responsible for ruining my biological Father...? )

...That is simply too ridiculous for words...

ー Another flashback to his childhood ensues

Ruki’s Mother: ーー Ruki! Ruki, are you there?

Ruki: Yes, Mother. Did you call me?

Ruki’s Mother: Aah, so that’s where you’ve been. Say, do you know what day it is today?

Ruki: Of course! It’s Father’s birthday, correct?

Ruki’s Mother: Fufu, exactly. I believe he will be home early today, so let’s all celebrate together, shall we?

Ruki: Yes. ..I wonder if he’ll be happy with my present?

Ruki’s Mother: Of course he’ll be? It’s a gift from his beloved son after all. He might just burst out into tears. 

Ruki: Fufu, I hope so.

Ruki’s Father: I’m home! I just got back.

Ruki: Ah! Welcome back, Father!

ー Ruki runs up to his Father

Ruki’s Mother: Hey, Ruki! You shouldn’t run inside the house! ...Fufu, good grief. 

ー The flashback ends

Ruki: ( ...Sure, I may have resented them for abandoning me at some point. )

( But up until that day I lost everything, they had always been fine parents which I could be proud of. )

( If only Father had not resorted to alcohol to solve his issues and taken his anger out on my Mother... )

( Even if we would have lost our money, I am sure that my family wouldn’t have broken apart. I don’t think either of them would have abandoned me either... )

( If it wasn’t for Trismégiste, we would have remained happy. ...Howeverーー )

ー The scene shifts to a flashback at Eden

Karlheinz: ーー Ruki. There is something I want you to know.

Ruki: Yes, Karlheinz-sama. What is it?

Karlheinz: Listen carefully. Truth is more than what meets the eye.

Ruki: ...? What do you mean?

Karlheinz: In this world, sometimes the most important things are the ones we cannot see.

You are the only one who can decide whether the things you’ve seen are right or not.

That is why you must never rush a judgement. Although I am sure that a clever boy such as yourself will be able to do that.

Ruki: I understand. If that’s what you want.

ー The flashback ends

Ruki: ( ...Right now, Karlheinz-sama’s teachings are all that I have left. )

( I respected him. That is why I didn’t want to admit it. ーー I didn’t want to have my feelings betrayed again. )

( ...However, actually, from the very beginningーー )

...!

ー Ruki rushes outside to throw up

Ruki: Uu...! ...Haah, haah...!

( Stop it...Don’t assume the worst...! )

( Nothing is certain yet. I shouldn’t...think these things...when I don’t have conclusive proof yet... )

( I must not suspect that man...! )

Hah...Haah...

???: ...Need some help?

Ruki: ...Don’t touch me!!

???: My apologies...You seemed to be feeling unwell. Perhaps I should have minded my own business?

Ruki: No...I’m sorry as well. Don’t take it personally...

ー Ruki walks away

??? A: ...

??? B: Fufu, seems like he took a huge hit.

Kino: He didn’t even recognize you, nor realized that I was closeby.

So? Did you figure out what he looked into just now?

Yuuri: Yes, of course.

Kino: I expected no less from you. Then, could you update me on the way? I’d like to keep the investigation going for now.

That being said...He really radiates those typically human vibes. 

I don’t know what exactly he was researching but did you see how pale his face looked? I can’t believe that guy’s actually a Vampire. 

ー The scene shifts back to the unknown manor

*Tick・tock・tick・tock*

Yui: ( ...Ruki-kun’s sure taking a while. It’s already late. )

( Did something happen perhaps...? Perhaps I should go look for him? But I probably shouldn’t wander around on my oーー )

ー Somebody enters the house

Yui: ( ...! Seems like he’s back. )

ー Ruki enters the room

Yui: Welcome back. Thank god...I was worried. 

Ruki: ...

Yui: Ruki-kun...?

( It’s almost like...He can’t hear me. Also, his complexion is sheer white... )

What’s wrong? Everything alright...?

Ruki: ...Yeah...You waited for me to eat, huh? 

...My bad. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep anything down right now.

Yui: Did something happen...?

Ruki: ...I haven’t gotten everything sorted out inside my head yet. Please give me some time alone...

ー Ruki leaves the room

Yui: ( What on earth happened...? )

ー The scene shifts to the outside

Kino: So he entered his room. I don’t think we should expect much else from him for today.

That being said...What was that man’s name again?

Yuuri: Trismégiste, Kino.

KIno: Yeah, that one. Trismégiste. From what I’ve heard, that guy was most likely a Demon of some sorts but...

Still, the rumors are rather intriguing, don’t you think? Do you think it’s true that at the time the Revolution took place, he went around the city and collected people’s corpses?

Yuuri: Who knows, it’s called a rumor for a reason.

However, it is true that some stories still state that Trismégiste left the city with the corpses of those who lost their lives during the Revolution. 

Kino: For what reason? Was he a corpse collector, perhaps?

Yuuri: Perhaps he moved them to a proper graveyard?

Kino: Then there’s Ruki as well...There’s some things that caught my interest. I suppose I should do some digging myself.

Yuuri: In that case, how about asking the Ghouls for help?

Many of them are natives to this country. There might even be those who are directly related to this case.

Kino: I see. I suppose I’ll do that then. ...I might be able to get some intel from one of them.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) I’m no history expert, but I do believe that the games made their own version of the Romanian Revolution which took place in 1989. 

[sweetbunnykook]

Only You (9)

Word Count: 13,197 // [SPOILER IN WARNINGS] angst (mention of double homicide, gore/blood, miscarriage, mistreatment of a corpse, panic attack), smut (period sex, cunnilungus, blowjob, throatpie, body worship, mommy kink), brief fluff, toxic relationship, manipulation

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

A/N: If you are still reading this series, I wish you the best of luck. Please leave a review if you can and let me know your thoughts. - 🐰

You were every mother’s blessing – kind, caring, intelligent, obedient. She watched you stumble and fall many times but you manage to catch your footing with a smile. Despite your yearning for independence, your mother kept you in her embrace as all mothers do. In some ways, it would be loving; things like helping you choose the venue for your wedding and holding your hand while you inquire about using chiffon instead of silk for your veil. You were such a wonderful daughter that she didn’t wish for a son even when you decided to carve your own path rather than follow your father’s footsteps into medicine and entrepreneurship.

It’s why your mother sits in the parking lot of your apartment complex, dumbfounded beyond belief, teeth gritted. She looks up at your window to see Jungkook staring back down at her, unable to read him. She holds his steel hard gaze, daring him to look away or pull the curtains close.

He doesn’t take the bait.  

Pulling the shifting gear and rolling out of the parking lot, she peels her eyes away and takes several deep breaths.

There is no way on God’s green Earth that you fell in love with a middle-class photographer. Of all people, of all the men in your circle, affluent men coming from money both new and old, you couldn’t have fallen for a lowly photographer who doesn’t care about you enough to know his place and leave you be. How could Jungkook not know that you aren’t meant to live like this? How could he be so selfish as to hope for marriage when he could barely afford the ring he wants to slip onto your finger?

Your mother throws back her head and cackles. The only reason you were able to study abroad during college, the only reason why you could walk into an upscale neighborhood and look like you belong there, is because she followed the natural way. She never loved your father, not even once, but he was a good husband and an even better financial asset. Not only did she not have to lift a finger after tying the knot, but she also became part of the untouchables.

There’s a sense of power and invincibility that comes with wealth. It comes softly, like a whisper of wind that keeps a dandelion intact; it’s invisible to the eyes but she can feel it when she shakes hands with politicians, celebrities, businessmen and women, important people doing important things.

It took nearly twenty years of work. Getting close to the Kims, making sure you attend the same school as their children, running into Namjoon when you visit their vacation home, and letting his parents witness what a great wife you would be for him – it was all going so well. Puberty treated you well enough too that she didn’t need to consider getting you minor cosmetic procedures when you graduated high school. Sure, you could lose a few more pounds, but you were healthy and fit to give the Kims, and her, the grandchildren who will guarantee a new generation of wealth and prosperity. Gone are the days when she could only dream about creating the perfect family, respected by the social circle and the general public. You, her lifelong project, made it all come true.

Yet, life proves to be cruel once again.

As soon as she set her eyes on Yori she knew she was trouble. She didn’t object when you stayed out later and wore a bit more makeup than what was deemed graceful for a woman of your age. She knew that if she’d raised her voice, you would be compelled to rebel (it didn’t help that you were as stubborn and thick-skinned as your father). However, she wanted to warn you, just a tiny bit, that Yori is the kind of girl whose eyes strayed to find a new target and you were a hair away from standing right in the middle of that mark. She knew, because Yori had the kind of eyes she had as a twenty-year-old woman who climbed that very same social ladder.  

You were such a good daughter, so intelligent and transparent, that she believed you would have the backbone to come into your mother’s arms at the first sign of danger. It looks like you were just as clueless as the rest of the sheep you called your bridesmaids.

A Jeep honks from the next lane as she swerves into the street and bangs on the steering wheel with the heel of her hand, her Cartier bracelets clanking together in unity. The light turns yellow and she stomps on the accelerator, lurching the vehicle forward.

At the end of the day, she knew it was her fault. She could have warned you earlier, planted seeds of doubt in your mind, even pull Namjoon back into your arms if you realized soon enough; but alas, your day was chosen to be one of desolation and misfortune. Her poor daughter, the apple of her eye, the one precious gem of a person who would propel the family into royalty, whisked right away from under her nose.

She shakes her head, tires screaming as she veers into the next semi-busy lane, watching the sun disappear into the horizon as the familiar roads darken.

Letting you mourn on your own terms was the biggest mistake of her life, second to not following her gut feeling and keeping Yori away from you. She knew about this photographer lover of yours who has the face of an angel and seem to follow you like a puppy wherever you go. From a distance, she’d watched you wrap your arms around him and kiss him with such fervor in a public space she felt bile rise for the first time looking at you – her most precious creation acting like a hussy for all to see.

The boy seemed to be in love with you as much as you depended on him. She waited until you would be sick of him like the ones you took to bed after the wedding night (yes, she knew about your shameful conquests). She waited countless nights, praying that you would come to your senses, that you won’t refuse her advances, until months later she sees you living with him and sharing meals and completely forgetting about her. Yes, she had been mainly focused on making sure the investors haven’t pulled out and that you still had a name for yourself after the wedding. It wasn’t an ideal response as a mother because you needed help and she knew you’d throw a hissy fit but you must understand that while you had been taking men to bed, she had been busting her ass saving what’s left of the family pride.

The Kims also attempted to salvage your reputation, but they won’t do so at the cost of Namjoon’s name. The true reality is that parents will only care for their own blood in the end.

It’s why she finds herself confused and drenched with sweat when the car halts in front of the white villa lined with jasmine bushes. There’s a new gate installed, probably to keep away reporters during the first few weeks after the wedding incident hit the papers, and it momentarily angered her that she must now ask an intercom to enter a space that should have been a gift to you from the Kims.

Her hands tighten around the steering wheel with the intent to squeeze something warm and pulsing. She still remembered the day Yori knelt on the floor of your dressing room and she still remembered the strands of hair that squeezed her fingertips as she tore the whore’s flower hair clip off her head. The yelling, the panic, the uproar, the whispers that came from the guests – it was humiliation to the tenth degree.

Wiping the bead of sweat off her temples with the back of her hand, your mother hushes the engine and places the key in her coat. She steps out of the vehicle and marches up to the gate and buzzes in, huffing when her heels wobble on the cobblestone steps.

A few heartbeats later, Yori’s voice pours through her ears and reached into the crevices of her scalp like a dull headache.

“Hello?”

She leans forward. “It’s me.”

There’s a long pause before the gates click open and the stone stairway up to the front door reveals itself with a moist gleam. The garden sprinklers die down just as she steps onto the platform and makes her way up to the front door where Yori is leaning against, one hand on her stomach, the other hand tucking her fringe away from her face. She notes that the knitted silk dress, tied above the swell of her belly, is from the latest Prada collection.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she smiles. “Come in. Welcome to my home. I apologize for the mess…I had a baby shower earlier today and help is gone for the rest of the week.”

Your mother wanted to rip that smug grin off her face but she kept her eyebrows still and her lips soft.

“Excuse my intrusion.”

She walks into the spacious living room, eyes quickly glancing at the stacks of presents on the couch and the empty bottles of sparkling water and champagne sitting on the coffee table. She can recognize, just from the color of the boxes, that the gifts were not cheap. Had you married Namjoon, this would have been your palace.

“I’m in the middle of decorating the nursery. If you don’t mind…” Yori says, not bothering to look back as she makes her way up the stairs. She didn’t have to turn around to see that steam is coming out of your mother’s ears. “Can you help me with unrolling the mat in the hallway? I can’t bend over very well.”

Your mother trails behind in place of answering, watching Yori’s hip swing side to side as she makes her way up the stairs and then turn to leer down at the older woman. It’s a bit laughable, Yori thinks, as your mother pretends not to ogle at the stacks of Tiffany blue boxes tucked beside the living room couch like shoeboxes. Her face flushes when she meets Yori’s eyes once more but she doesn’t comment as she follows the young woman into the hallway just a few feet away from the stairs. Her head turns at the smell of fresh paint to see the nursery on her left, the door left open as if the room expected her arrival.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Yori fixes her fringe once more. “He needed to attend a conference in Ginza. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“There’s no need.” She leers at the stacks of presents next to the crib. More aquamarine boxes, all neatly stacked according to size with the smallest at the top.

The younger woman leans against the tall, heavy vase next to the wall leading into the hallway to the East wing. “If you say so.”

There’s no reason for your mother to be here. It should be you instead, coming back to tie loose ends and perhaps inquire about Namjoon’s injuries if you cared enough. Compared to your mother, you didn’t have much of a backbone when it comes to relationships and it makes it so easy for men to take what they want and go. It’s what made you a bore, what gave Yori the power to pull Namjoon right into her bed and have him calling her name like a prayer.  

“Did you forget basic manners?” Your mother finally snaps, beady eyes darting from side to side to admire the nursery that could have been a snapshot from a furniture magazine. “Not even offering a glass of water?”

Yori only smiles, motioning to the unrolled mat slumped against the wall, adjacent from the staircase.

“I assumed whatever you wanted say would be quick as you came uninvited. You’d probably think the water is poisoned even if I offered any way.”

The older woman glances at the rug – no doubt imported from Dubai with its elegant coloring and silk touch – then walks over to it before tracing her fingers around the rolled edges. She shouldn’t have accepted to do such demeaning housework but given how she pulled into the driveway unannounced and that the woman is heavily pregnant with no help around, it was only fair. She may have left behind her patience with Jungkook but not her manners.  

“Why did you have to pick that day to tell her?”

Yori’s eyebrows raised just slightly before falling back down to its former position. She puts a hand over her stomach and walks towards the giant vase again, rubbing her fingers over the cool lacquered surface. Namjoon’s parents had a thing for porcelain she just couldn’t wrap her head around.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you wait until the marriage ceremony to tell her you were screwing her husband?”

“Husband?” She cocks her head to the side with an incredulous widening of her pupils. “Last time I checked he only had a fiancée he rarely saw who ran away with some pretty photographer the first chance she got. I’d say that’s far from married.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Answer the question,” she looks down, chin trembling. The world is falling apart, her dreams are nothing but a pebble in quicksand, and you no longer cared. “Please.”

Yori watches, in a way one watches a fly buzzing around a piece of fruit, the older woman bring her hands together in front of her like it has taken all her energy to ask such a question. Maybe for a moment she considers telling the woman the truth. She considers telling her that you broke her heart first, that you had the world succumbing to your every need, that your mother’s greed doesn’t only belong to her but you too because you made Seokjin your lap dog while Namjoon promised you a future. She considers telling her about the night she saw you laying like a swooning damsel in distress as Seokjin – the only man she had to beg for attention – suckle your tits like you were getting paid for it. She considers telling your mother that her daughter is the two-faced whore here, not her. She considers telling her that you touched what belonged to someone else first.

But what difference would it make? What would it change? The baby is still due in a handful of weeks, Namjoon is set to take over the company once he gets his shit together and his nose heals, and you’re perfectly happy with a new and exciting boyfriend of yours. The truth doesn’t set anyone free, it just makes sure the shackles aren’t too tight.

Yori turns her moist eyes away towards the living room downstairs. She walks over to the railing, resting her wrist on the copper before she stares down at the half-eaten cake on the coffee table with utmost disgust, as if she can still smell the overly sweet frosting with too much blue and pink dye. Catching her voice, she brings the smile back onto her face.

“I picked that day,” she turns her head, just slightly to catch your mother’s expression. “Just because I wanted to watch her look as pathetic as you do now.”

Your mother’s lips part, hands falling to her sides.

“It just happened. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s…all?”

Yori chuckles, her empty gaze falling back down to the cake. “That’s all.”

Years of planning, years of giving you the best education the country has to offer, years of making sure you never have to suffer as she had, years of shaking hands and kissing the ground the Kims walk on, only for this girl without new or old money to come and…

Before your mother can think, she lunges forward and grabs Yori by the ends of her hair, twisting the locks around her wrist as the younger woman gasps and shrieks. Her swollen stomach hits your mother’s side as she screeches and uses both hands to grab at her taught hair, pulling away to place as much distance she can. The heel of her ankle catches the edge of the first step and she watches the older woman’s eyes widen as she slams, back first, into the steps and then bounce off the next step as her jaw and skull slams into the copper pipe railing. Yori’s stomach hits the corners of the last several steps before the swell of her belly squeezes inwards, the final gurgling scream ripping out of her throat as her vision turns black and the house falls in silence.

It all happened so fast. Your mother watches with her hands over her ears, chest pounding and bracelets clattering as her limbs turn cold and her knees buckle.  

Her eyes widen, more and more, as the pool of blood around Yori’s head expands until there lays maroon halo around her crown. She’s lying flat on her stomach and it takes another moment for the trembling woman to realize that, in the silence save for her own labored breathing, the bump is no longer there.

“Oh my god…”

Curling over to the side, your mother’s jaw falls open and the remnants of her early lunch spills over one of Yori’s shoes ledged between the railing and the first step. She empties her stomach until there is nothing left, her knuckles white as she grips the railing for support. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she descends down the staircase, back pressed against the wall and eyes darting from the body to the tinted windows with burgundy curtains tied to the side. When she reaches the body, she trips over Yori’s limp feet as she quickly dashes to the living room to draw the curtains close, her neck craning from side to side as she finds any opening where an imaginary eye might witness the ultimate sin. It was only when she finds herself in the kitchen, washing her hands that she realized she had, in fact, stolen two lives.

Yori, and the baby who never had the chance to see daylight.

…

You’re sitting in a bathroom stall, turning over the small flash drive between your fingers when you hear the clattering of heels against polished tile and the sound of handbags slumping on the counter. One of the women walks into the stall next to yours, undoing the tampon wrapper as if she were scouring for the winning lottery number written on the string.

“Did you see Jin with her again?” The woman outside of the stall says and you recognize her by voice. She works for the accounting department and regularly walks into your office for weekly reports.

“I was keeping an eye of him. It’s annoying that they work together now so he’s always all over her.”

No doubt this conversation is about you.

“Tell me about it. I bet they’re fucking, you saw how he looked at her.”

“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” The toilet flushes and you can hear her shrugging her skirt back up to her thighs.

You hear a gasp. “Oh my god, you’re right. It’s that young guy who keep bringing her lunch, right? She didn’t break up with him?”

The stall opens and both women are in front of the counter. You’re stuck in your seat, not knowing whether to kick open the door or to interrupt the conversation but with Seokjin’s flash drive in your clammy hands, you struggle to even breathe.

“They’re still together. Looks like that photographer dick is too good to give up for the office hunk.”

They laugh like hyenas – that high, shrieking kind of laugh that makes their red lipstick bleed onto the corners of their mouths.

“They’re so out of her league. What do they even see in her? She’s painfully average. The only thing she’s got going on is a good wardrobe.”

You keep your head lowered when they walk past your stall as if they could see you. They pull on the paper towel lever until they can rip a generous piece and wipe their hands.

“She’s rich. She’s probably only working here because it keeps her humble or some bullshit like that. You know how girls with daddy’s money are, thinking they’re doing charity for working like the rest of us-”

You don’t hear the rest of their conversation, glad that your face no longer feels hot but you’re angered all the same. Jungkook’s visits, for this reason, had made you nervous in the beginning because you know they’ll talk and come up with their own little villain fantasy about you. It doesn’t bother you as you keep work separate from life (something Jungkook had been interrupting much to your discomfort) but hearing it in person ignited the kind of angry tears that has you cursing at yourself for letting yourself be disturbed by it.

You grab your handbag off the hook, place the flash drive back in your pocket, and unlock the stall before pushing the door open. You wash your hands in haste as the air had become suffocating in the aftermath of the two women. Wiping your wet hands down your black slacks, you let your wavy hair down and let it frame your face to hide your flushed cheeks, making sure that your eyes are no longer moist and your nose isn’t pink. What a way to end a workday.

When you arrive back at the office, most of your coworkers are gone except for the new interns organizing papers for tomorrow and the occasional workaholics making coffee in the makeshift cafeteria. You just hope you won’t run into the two women if they choose to swing by for whatever reason but, thankfully, it was never a common occurrence. They never did above the bare minimum any way.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips when you slump back down your office chair, squeezing your nose bridge as a wave of exhaustion wracks havoc in your pulsing head.

“There are some more sandwiches in the fridge, please help yourself if you’d like.” A student intern says as she carries a crumpled file under one arm, peering from above your divider.

“Oh!” You exclaim, your head darting towards the room Sora left in a mess before turning back to the girl. “Thank you, I’ll help myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She gives a short nod before leaving, the glass door squeaking as the office once again is filled with the sound of coffee machines whirring and papers shredding.

The USB flash drive sits heavy in your pocket as you wave goodbye to the last person leaving your department with a cup of coffee. She nods, smiling, and pushes out the heavy glass door and you silently hope she won’t forget to return the mug before leaving the building. You listen to the clacking of her heels fading before turning back to the work computer still logged into your account. The saturated blue screen is harsh on your vision and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut, turning to look at the clock on the wall momentarily to keep yourself grounded.

Jungkook can call at any minute as your shift is coming to an end.

Maybe it would be easier to do this with your phone turned off but knowing him, he would worry enough to drive over to make sure you’re safe.

Within the gray walls that surround your cubicle, you should feel secure. Yet, some part of you wonders if he would suddenly appear behind you and wrap you in his arms before asking you what you’re up to. In this nightmare of a scenario, you can also feel the antagonizing gaze of the two women.

Looking back down at the USB, you’ve come to realize that you have bigger things to worry about. Some part of you feels just as disgusting as a cheater taking off her ring in the presence of another man.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

You’ve rehearsed the same mantra in your head at least a hundred times within the same hour (before you had the unfortunate chance to overhear that unpleasant conversation) and it sickens you that this is a phrase that Namjoon would have used to justify his time with Yori. It’s a cheater’s mentality – a cowardly way of shifting responsibility away from themselves without considering the consequences when the truth comes to light.  

With a sigh, you pull the flash drive out of your pocket and flip the black casing open until the lid hangs off its hinges to reveal the silver end. You look around once more, taking a deep breath, and push the end into the appropriate slot of the system unit. The USB flashes a neon green light, pulsing as it loads, before it dims and a small ping pulls your attention back to the screen.

The file explorer window expands, showing a ZIP file among an array of photos that had you squinting to observe. You jolt straight from the seat as your phone rings. Cursing under your breath as you note an incoming call. You’re just about to turn back to the screen when you recognize that the number flashing across your screen isn’t Jungkook’s but your mother’s. She never called at this time and if she did, she would have texted you first to make sure you weren’t in a meeting.

Just as you reach for the phone, it stops ringing and you contemplate turning it off. But something tells you you should have taken the call. When the phone rings again, causing you to flinch, you let it vibrate twice before swiping across the screen.

In exactly five minutes, you will regret ever picking up the call. In ten minutes, you’re running for your life.

…

Jungkook paces back and forth with his thumb between his teeth. If he bit his nails any shorter, he would pierce through skin. Your voice still rings in his ear as you cry into the phone, your tires screaming through the speaker as you speed through the streets back to the apartment. He’s sick with worry, wondering if you crashed into a tree of if you decided – on a whim – to handle this situation yourself. Because you called him immediately after you left work, he has a feeling you wouldn’t do anything stupid but today has been especially unpredictable.

First, your mother coming to meet him. Second, the same woman pushing Yori down the stairs and threatening you to take care of it. If he’d heard you correctly, the old wench even mentioned she would make his life a living hell if you don’t head over immediately. Some mother you are. It pisses him off to no end that you had to live with her for half of your life but it makes him even more upset that you’ve been hiding your mother’s behavior, throwing excuses about how much she worries when she’d call in the mornings and leave voicemails that you delete without listening.

He changes into a pair of jeans and an old university sweatshirt that is a bit too tight on the cuffs. When he hears the sound of your heels clack on the other side of the door, he barely had the time to wrap his head around such a God-given opportunity.

As soon as the door swings open you’re falling into his arms, wracked with sobs as he engulfs your entire torso in his arms. He presses your head further below his neck, reaching behind you to grab his coat off the hanger and wrap it around you before kicking the door close in case a neighbor passes by. You can’t bear to lift your head, trembling as your teeth chatter and your pupils are wide with fear. He’s never seen you like this – not even during the wedding night – and it makes his insides squeeze as if someone had reached in him and pressed a hand against his organs.

“I-I don’t know w-” you sob, “I don’t know w-what to do. I can’t breathe. Jungkook-”

He hushes you softly, threading his fingers through your hair with his thumbs curling around your ear. He tilts your head up towards his gaze, watching your tears trail down your face and onto the coat. Between gasps, you’re wailing, your throat tightened to the point that even his name sounds like nails on chalkboard on your lips.

“Noona, you have to breathe for me. Inhale,” he brings air into his nostrils as demonstration, “and exhale. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, swallowing first before you mimic and close your eyes. Jungkook brings a hand up to your chest, digging underneath the coat to feel it pounding against your ribcage.

“Keep breathing, noona. It’s going to be okay, keep breathing.” He rubs his warm palm over the chiffon and you find yourself leaning your forehead against his chest in exhaustion.

You wish you could stay in his embrace forever. Locked inside this warm and unassuming apartment, away from your mother, away from the past that has now resurfaced in the worst way imaginable – you wish you can curl into his arms and never leave. That…or you just want the world to swallow you in a deep well and leave you to starve.

“We have to tell the police.” You tremble. You can’t imagine the repercussions, not to mention the heartache of seeing your mother behind bars. She’d rather hang herself than end up in prison, you know that much. You’d sworn to your father before his passing that you’d keep her safe and you’re already thinking of running away.

“Noona…”

“We do. We…I have to. I-I mean it was an accident,” you’re suddenly peeling yourself away from him, bringing your hands up to rub your face. “They’ll give her m-maybe three or four years at most, right? If it was an accident it won’t be…”

Jungkook comes up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing up and down. You’re shaking again, tears streaming even quicker than before and the nausea is causing you to falter from side to side.

“Kookie, I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do, I’m going crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

He places his forehead against the crown of your head, staring into the distance. You feel his fingers tighten around your arm before he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his weight upon your collarbones.

“Do you trust me, noona?” He whispers.

The fridge hums in the distance. You nod.

“Yes…I trust you. With my life.”

When he doesn’t reply, you turn your body, slowly, as if you were anticipating a monster and not a man, until you can look up at his face. He’s rubs his thumbs over your tears and moves down to your chapped lips, swollen and pink from your incessant gnawing. Your lips part just slightly as you exhale, keeping your eyes locked onto his loving eyes. He looks so angelic under the kitchen lights, the yellow bulbs blurred by the moisture in your eyes to form a halo around his long fringe. His hair is parted in the middle to form a curtain around his structured face, casting a shadow over his eyes in the semi-darkness. You can’t see him clearly with the lights behind him but you can sense his confidence, his reassuring grip on your cheeks; he’s no longer the boy from the night before but a man who is willing to keep the promise he made to you.

“I can help you.” He whispers softly once more, his voice lowered. “If you take me to the body…I can help you, noona.”

He holds your gaze, his thumbs still rubbing softly over your cheeks as if to coax the words into your skin. The implication isn’t lost on you but your body reacts first, fingers shaking as a fresh wave of sweat prickles down your back.

“W-What do you…” you trail off as your breathing grows heavy. Jungkook puts a hand on your chest once more as he did before, rubbing softly over your chest to calm your pounding heart.

He holds you close, breathing in your skin once more as his own eyes sting with unshed tears. Fate is a terrible thing and for every moment of bliss with you, he must pay the price; except, this price is a new opportunity to secure you by his side and earn your mother’s silent approval. It’s okay, Jungkook thinks, he can do this for you. He has the resources, the will, the strength, the plans – the only thing he can’t predict is your mental well-being in the aftermath.

Will you lose respect for him? Will you still love him? One thing he was sure of was that this was the only chance to keep your mother from arranging a marriage partner for you. He must go through it to not only save your sanity, your mother, but your answer when he puts one knee on the ground and opens the velvet box he keeps on top of the fridge for the perfect time. Oh how the universe responded so quickly to the day’s worries.

“Back then…when you said you would…”

Kill

“…You would do that for me. You really meant it, baby?”

Jungkook brings your head back under his chin and keeps you there, rocking from side to side as if to lull you to sleep.

“I meant every word. I’m not afraid, noona, not if it means I can protect you and your family.” His eyes darken as he tangles his fingers into your hair, twirling the ends of your waves between his fingers. “You love me, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then I need you to listen to me.”

With great reluctance, he pulls you away and holds your palm in both of his larger hands. Your eyes are closed, whether from fatigue or concentration he doesn’t know until your brows scrunch when he speaks.  

“Call your mother when I tell you to and tell her you’re on your way over. If she asks why you didn’t answer her previous calls, tell her you had an emergency at work. Reassure her and make sure she doesn’t touch anything more than she’s probably already touched by now. Don’t mention that I’m coming with you, understand? She might panic and bring attention to herself if there’s any witnesses.”

You nod continuously, creating a mental checklist. Call, inform, excuse, reassure, move.

“And noona?”

You look back up into his eyes.

“You…you won’t hate me after tonight…would you?”

How could you fathom it? With his warm, sincere stare and willingness to walk to the ends of earth for someone as plain and unlovable as you, you should be on your knees worshipping him. You don’t understand how he can think of you hating him when he had so willingly put his entire life at risk without reluctance. You aren’t asking him to fetch a forgotten carton of milk at the corner store. You’re asking him to clean up the mess your mother made, a mess that can tear your entire world apart, a mess that has nothing to do with your boyfriend who has no boundaries to prove his devotion.

You shake your head. “I could never,” you breathe.

You hold him this time, letting his body bow towards your trembling figure as he breathes in the scent of sweat and perfume on your neck. You give him a moment of peace. You wanted him to remember this touch as after this night is over, you don’t know if you’ll be the same person. You don’t know if he’ll be either.

He goes over the plan once more and leads you to his car. When Jungkook straps you into the passenger seat and turns the ignition key, you curl your fingers around your shaking knees. He notices your anxiety and takes the closest hand in his before letting your palm rest over the gear shift. He places his own hand on top of yours, gripping tightly when he shifts and maneuvers the car out of the parking lot and onto the road before unclenching.

The sky is pitch black and the moon stalks from behind. You count every tree, read every sign, tense at every sign of a police car passing by, and sniffle when your burning eyes refuse to calm. You don’t register where you are until Jungkook lets go of your hand on the shifting gear and undo his seatbelt. You’re inside the garage of his studio, surrounded by wires, cardboard boxes, plastic bins, and office supplies. When you grasp his arm, letting out a small cry, he hushes you instantly, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a tender kiss on your knuckles.

“I’ll be quick, noona. I just need to get some things, okay? I’ll be right there-” he points to the very back of the car – “in view.”

You swallow, nodding before uncurling your grip from his arm.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint for Jungkook not to coo at your desperation. He missed this dependency of yours (he had only seen it during the wedding night and the necklace argument) and for once he wonders if he went a bit too far with his role as the sweet and needy boyfriend. He’s not acting in a way that he doesn’t want to but he is guilty of dramatizing some of his pleas and affectionate touches. He knows, in his head, that he is a man. He’s stronger, taller, capable of committing a crime and not just cleaning its aftermath, and will eventually be the father of your children. He’ll tug his collar open to expose his vulnerabilities, but he will show you his strength too. Tonight is a blessing from the universe that will, finally, keep you where you belong: at his side, looking at him, and needing only him.

You watch as Jungkook swings open the trunk of his car and load three large plastic bins and pile photography equipment – tripods, developer fluids, camera bags, lighting equipment, and even a small monitor. And then you see the last box of supplies: rope, black plastic bags, gloves, masks, bleach, towels, and tape. When his eyes meet yours, he flashes you a small smile between his labored breaths, the kind you’re used to seeing after you make love to him and he’s spent, sprawled on the sheets with an arm over his perspired forehead. The car jolts slightly as pushes the back door shut and hop back into the driver seat, adjusting the temperature in the car, muttering something under his breath, and latching his seat belt back on.

He keeps both hands on the wheel. “Noona…make the call now.”

You’re frozen, hands clasped together on your lap.

“Kookie…”

You’re having doubts. He can see it in the way you can’t even bear to look at him. He digs through your pocket and presses your cell phone on your lap. When the lockscreen awakens to the photo of you two, you feel your heart anchor to the bottom of your stomach.

“I-I can’t do it.” You shake your head. “We have to go to the police. I can’t live without you, I can’t live without mom, we’ll get caught and I-” You press your hands to your face, your hoarse sobs lodged deep in your throat before it rips from your chest in the kind of wailing that makes Jungkook’s own heart squeeze. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Yori either e-even if it means my family…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He sees himself in you. He sees himself as the teen boy who let Taehyung drag his scalpel across his father, then his mother, before encouraging him to give it a try. You’re a virgin. Even if tonight worked out perfectly according to his plans, you’d still be a crime virgin. It was your mother who pushed Yori, not you. Knowing how empathetic you are, how tender you are, it might as well be you who pushed the woman down the stairs. He knows your fear all too well and he knows just how quick your hummingbird heartbeat is underneath his coat that you’re wearing. You’re just like him.

“You’re beautiful, noona.” He places a palm over your clasped hands and brings his other hand up to your face, tucking your hair behind your ears and strumming your cheeks with the back of his fingers.

“No one deserves your kindness. It fucking upsets me,” he swallows, allowing his eyes to water, “that even a mother will take advantage of that kindness.”

You sob into his hand, leaning your temple against the head rest. He’s right. How many times have your mother, before Jungkook came into your life, morphed you into something you’re not? The days you spent trying to please her, comparing yourself to other children she would complement to get a reaction out of you, letting yourself be a pawn for when she wanted something from your father that either required money or the right handshake. You still love her above all because she’s your mother but there’s no denying how much it still touches every part of your life from your relationships to your career. Moving away from her and letting her fade into the background was a true feat and it pains you that all that effort crumbled away and you’re left in a bigger mess to clean than before. If only you hadn’t taken the fucking call.

Maybe this was your fault. Maybe, if you hadn’t been such a hard-headed person, she would never had driven over to Yori’s place and none of this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have to get Jungkook involved either, as willing as he is.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Jungkook slouches back into his seat, putting his hands back onto the steering wheel. “Don’t you, noona?”

You nod, keeping your head lowered.

“Then be good for me and call. I’ll take care of you and I’ll take care of everything else. I’ve never broken that promise, not now, not ever.”

Jungkook hopes that’ll work. He’s rather annoyed but not at you, never at you. Why couldn’t she tumble down those stairs too instead of giving you such unnecessary stress? This kind of stain would be terrible for the baby had you been pregnant. It’s tearing him apart watching how different you are now compared to this morning, leaving the apartment in comfort only to come falling into his arms in tears. He came to the conclusion that you’re simply too pure for the world.

Oh how romantic tonight would be if you were honest with yourself all along. Claiming to loathe your mother with the strength of a thousand suns only to act like this when she shows up with baggage. Jungkook can’t blame you for you shared a majority of your life with the wench, but he finds it exasperating that you can’t see how little of your pity people like her deserve. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t be the love of his life if you weren’t so sensitive and caring.

It was with great relief that you mustered the courage to swipe across the phone screen and type your mother’s number.

He clicks open the garage door and the vehicle begins to descend down the elevated lot.

“M-mom? I’m on my way now…c-can you tell me where you are? It’ll be okay…I know mom, I-I’ll be there soon…”

…

You feel eerily calm as Jungkook drives past your mother’s car parked in the front of the gate to circle around the perimeter of the fence. He doesn’t recognize the new gate but he’d climbed over the old ones many times to watch you on the balcony. The metal may have changed but the level of security should be the same given that the villas are built a good distance apart between trees and the residents – people with mostly new money – keep to themselves. Lodged between a large tree and a partial opening in the back gate that is no doubt left ajar by your mother, Jungkook step out of the vehicle and press the door close before coming over to your side.

He’s relieved that you’re no longer in tears but your hands are still freezing cold despite the heat turned to the max inside. Your eyes are wandering and your breaths are labored as you press your body close to Jungkook’s.

Your mother is waiting near the door, her head poking out just slightly in the darkness and you can see the familiar row of bracelets on her wrist. She seems to have aged several years in just the last few months and the reason for her demise is standing next to you.

“Are you insane?” She seethes as she pulls you by the arm into the dark house and keep her eyes on Jungkook whose gaze bore into her skull. “How could you bring another-”

Jungkook barely had the time to secure your grip on his arm when you gasp, flinching back to hit the chess table next to where he’s standing when you see Yori’s pale arm stretched out from beneath a mat. The deep crimson shade of blood had congealed on the marble, partially smudged by the mat above her weighing her corpse down. Deep inside you had hoped that at least the baby could be saved, by some miracle, but the damage is far too great. Accident or not, a police officer finding this scene would not consider a light sentence if you mother decided to confess.

The older woman’s jaw is clenched, no doubt suppressing the panic she too feels hammering inside her as you hang off of Jungkook arm, trembling still. She looks up to your boyfriend and finds herself jolting awake when his eyes are peering down at her. He looks kind, sympathetic, soft, as if he is still sitting across her on your couch, eager to prove that he can be the son-in-law she’s been looking for all along.

“You should head home for the night. I’ll handle the rest.”

She scratches at her bracelets, her nails tugging the gold free from her skin. “B-But…where are you taking her? Anyone will find it if she’s buried in the yard.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer the question.

“Please go home and make sure there are no witnesses. I know you didn’t inform anyone before coming here,” he turns his head towards the body, “so go home as if you were never here. I promise I’ll take care of it.”

It’s evident the older woman is relieved by the way her shoulders slump but her gaze is still firm as she measures her trust into the young man who is in full control of your heart. Your eyes are still on the body when your mother takes your hands in hers and gives a squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” she croaks. She knew she gave birth to such a dependable, obedient daughter. You’re every mother’s dream and she makes a mental note to come back to your apartment with more boxes of food and perhaps make amends. There are far too many misunderstandings and miscommunication; it’s no way for a mother and child to live.

However, when you rip your hands away and take Jungkook’s hand in yours, her face crumbles.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” You hiss, your voice straining. You’ve never spoken to her like this and didn’t think about doing so until you saw the body, the mess your boyfriend has to clean. “You did this to us.”

“Wh-”

“Leave me alone. Please, mom. Get out of here, okay?” Your eyes glisten and you wipe away the droplets before they have the chance to fall. “It’s…we’re putting our lives on the line for you. It’s the least you can do now…so please…”

Between your pleas and Jungkook’s silence, your mother bites the inside of her cheek from saying anything more and turns back the way you came in. You watch her figure recede into the darkness, her shoes clacking softly on the cobblestone path. She turns back to look at you before the door closes and for once, you earn the most genuine apology you’ve ever received and this time she didn’t even need to open her mouth.

When the door falls back into place, Jungkook gives your shoulders a comforting rub and leads you towards the staircase, reminding you to breathe. He feels a bit more relieved that your mother didn’t raise too much of a ruckus. How could she when he’s the one getting his hands dirty? It’s what the perfect son-in-law will do and after this night is over, he’ll no longer have doubts about her approval. She wouldn’t have a valid argument anyway – not when he had just proved that he’s willing to go to the ends of Earth for your family and stability.

You’re too cute, Jungkook thinks, as you breathe through your nose and exhale through your lips. You’re a mirror image of his virgin self coated in blood, panicked but euphoric, angered but more than relieved to be rid of the parasites that kept him in the sewers.

“H-how are we going to do this?” You breathe, looking up the stairs as if you were expecting Namjoon to be standing there.

“I’ll handle the body. You can help me wipe down the stairs, okay?”

And handle it he did. He first fetched the supplies from the car, making sure once more that there are no witnesses while also keeping you within sight. Even without a severe puncture wound, Yori made quite a mess.

The terror didn’t come from seeing your former friend of years lay in a puddle of her own secretions. Nor did it come from seeing how calm and collected your boyfriend is peering down at the body with something akin to annoyance. No, terror came from how easily your mind and body adapted to helping Jungkook. You had no more tears left to shed when he lifted the mat from the body and placed a plastic covering next to her before rolling her body onto it. The sheet rustles beneath her weight and the stench of iron and urine fills your nostrils, prompting you to place your gloved hand over your nose.

Jungkook seems to know just what to do. He orders for you to wipe the railings first, which you do so with the slowness of a snail climbing a brick wall. The smell of bleach kept the nausea at bay and prompted you to focus on the smaller tasks because you can feel your heart already beginning to race with the sound of your boyfriend dragging Yori by the feet to straighten her posture. When you risked a glance back, you catch yourself feeling irked by the way Jungkook places her fingers so tenderly on her flattened stomach. Even when he’s wearing gloves, you catch yourself glaring at his touch on her skin, at the way his fingers brush over the ring on her finger. It makes you clench your jaw harder, pour more bleach onto the staircase, and wipe down each step with vigor.

She’s dead, she can’t take him from you.

You spray the bleach onto the top step, scrubbing with the heel of your palm as your shoulder fights through aches and pressure. You can do this. If Jungkook kept his promise, you must too. You will never find another man who will devote his entire life to you and for that you must not be too forgiving to those who don’t deserve your kindness, not this time.

All your life it’s one person after another coming to take what they want and leave. This is your lesson to finally take yourself back from them all, to come to terms with how much you gave and how little you received, see that Jungkook was the catalyst you desperately needed. It was no coincidence that when the elevator doors opened that very night of your wedding, he was the person standing in front of you. He was meant to be there holding your shoes as he rescues you away from those who would eventually suck the life out of you. He’s not someone you should be afraid of – no – because he’s your savior.

When you turn back again, Jungkook is slipping Yori’s legs into a large, black plastic bag identical to the one she’s laying on. He uses the bag beneath her to fight friction as he slides her body forward, careful not to bend her body before the duct tape comes into play.

And suddenly, your shoulder doesn’t ache anymore. Your heartbeat slows as you take another deep breath, this time through your lips, and watch his shoulders hunch over and forearm veins protrude.

“Kookie?”

He looks up, hair damp with sweat as it falls over his eyes. The lights from the front lawn, as it filter through dark maroon curtains, casts a red glow on your lover’s skin. When he meets your eyes he’s filled with glee, seeing that you’re no longer panicking and your eyes are clouded with a kind of protective apathy that lets him know you’ve gotten stronger. You’re dipping a toe into his world.

“Yes, noona?” He huffs, straightening his spine and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist.

“Nothing will happen to us after tonight…right?”

He physically melts at your saccharine voice. You’re worried about him, about whether he’ll still want you after this and if he’ll want you forever. “Of course not, noona. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to rest?” He asks if he hadn’t been the one packing the corpse into a bag.

You shake your head with a sniffle. “…I’m fine.” You’re not sure what to say, so you rub the cleaning cloth between your fingers and shy away from his eyes. “J just wanted to hear you say that.”

A smile spreads across his face, slow but bright as if he had just heard the most amazing thing. You can’t smile back and instead focus back on the floors and the last few inches of the railing.

You make sure to wipe the decorations nearby, in case your mother left any fingerprints on the lacquered surfaces. She can be rather careless in dire situations. You’re lifting yourself off the floor when something catches your eye: a large crib with layers and layers of blankets and fuzzy cloud and star plushies.

“What kind of bedtime stories should we tell our kids?”

Namjoon puts his head on your lap, sighing in relief when his neck is elevated at just the right position to depressurize the knot.

“What about myths? About the constellations and such.”

You giggle, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Isn’t that a little too mature for babies?”

When he doesn’t answer, you wave you hand in front of his eyes. He squints, chuckling. So this is what marriage life is going to be like – he can get used to it. “You’re right, that is a bit too much. Then…hm…they’ll learn about the types of clouds in the sky and we can go from there.”

“Joonie, I love you, but don’t come crying when our kids prefer mama’s stories over papa’s boring myths and random science facts.”

“We’ll see when we get to that point. Either way, you’re stuck with me.”

Asshole.

A fucking good-for-nothing lying asshole.

Gifting the same toys he promised to give to your future children to the same bitch who ruined your life, your family, and your sanity; they deserved each other, you think, and they both deserve to disappear as if they had never existed. The unborn baby inside Yori is innocent but a part of you is elated that he’ll never experience the kind of fatherhood he wanted. You silently wished Namjoon would tumble down the very same staircase you cleaned and joined Yori in a happy couple’s embrace to…

“Kookie?” You call out to your boyfriend who had duct taped the body in a semi-mummified state and used a shibari knot with his jute rope for easy carrying. He’d dragged the body next to the railing and leaned it against one of the stair planks in an upright position so that after he inspects the house for any evidence, he can bring the corpse easily over his shoulder.

“Yes, noona?”

“Where are we going to bury her?”

Jungkook wets his lips. He can’t possibly tell you the process of disposing a body or else you’ll surely fall back into panic so he gives you the simplest answer he can. “I’ll have to keep her body in the freezer in my studio. I’ll look for a place to burn it soon.”

You nod, swallowing as your throat tightens uncomfortably once more. The waves of anxiety come and goes. Jungkook knows how you’re feeling all too well and he wishes he could just hold you in your arms until tomorrow comes. Much to his distain, he knows you’re partly living your fantasy of making Yori pay for her involvement with Namjoon. You no longer love the man but anyone in your shoes wouldn’t deny there is a sense of satisfaction in seeking vengeance after a lifetime of humiliation that dampened your reputation in both your personal and professional sphere. Jungkook prays that getting rid of Yori will eliminate your mind of their presence although he highly doubts it; you’re not always rainbows and flowers. It’s only natural for you to be curious about taking another life when anger consumes logic. Most of these thoughts are fleeting ,which is why you had surprised Jungkook by your composure. He expected screaming at the very least but all you could do was cry.

He understands.

After he watched the life drain out of his parents, Taehyung had watched him cry for the longest time and when the next day came, it was like the world had turned its back while he washed the blood off his hands. The anxiety was terrible – at least for the first month or two – and then it was as if nothing had happened.

Like he learned before and like you’re learning now, it didn’t take much to get rid of a person. Over time, it just became muscle memory, kind of like making your morning coffee half-asleep. Now that you’ve gotten your first taste of the power, he wonders how you’ll cope. Will you fall into despair and regret it all in the morning? Will you be hungry for more? How will you return his most tiresome display of affection? These are questions he can’t answer. But what he does know is that you finally understand what love is in his world.

Love isn’t just about a ring on the finger or a baby in the crib. Love has to hurt. It has to infest your dreams and turn them into nightmares, wreak havoc on your heart, rip off the magnet in your moral compass. It’s why the human heart is caged behind ribs – it can hardly be tamed.

…

As the car lurches behind trees and between unpaved roads, Jungkook notifies your mother about what to do next. It would not raise suspicion for her to leave the country for a few weeks, especially since she had been traveling to speak to investors abroad. It would take some of the burden off his shoulders too; your mother is a cunning woman who fears losing money more than losing you so he had no trouble alluding to her demise if she disobeys. While you look away, he quickly sends a notification to Jimin to make sure the older man will take care of the rest. When he receives an immediate response back, his shoulders slump in relief and he pockets the phone back into his jeans.

When he takes your hand in his again, the other gripping the wheel, you give him the smallest of smiles through the silence.

Three is a crowd. The body folded and hidden in the rear space between his photography equipment makes your head turn every now and then to make sure it doesn’t escape somehow. You’re exhausted beyond belief but Jungkook is here, his palm over your hand on the shifting gear once more, to keep you grounded. The night feels like it might go on forever.

The streets pass by in a blur – nightlife still alive and pulsing with neon signs – and there’s a kind of peace enclosed in the car that you can’t find anywhere else. It’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook has always been and will always be there for you. Whether to take you from somewhere or bring you to some place, he’s the only person in your life left that you could depend on. As he expertly drives through tight alleyways where gas station surveillance cameras can’t reach him, you’re dozing off with your head against the window.  

“We’re almost there.” He says while running his thumb over your knuckles. There’s blood on his shirt and your neck but you’re too tired to care.

You awaken with a gasp when Jungkook swings the door open; he had been careful not to wake you but you feel enough residual adrenaline to jolt awake at the smallest of sounds. It takes a moment for you to recognize the inside of his garage, the bright LED lightbulb hanging above causing you to squint as your eyes adjust.

Unaware that you’re awake, Jungkook quickly moves to the rear of the car and swing Yori’s body over his shoulders, tightening the ropes around where her neck and feet are to secure his grip. He carries the wrapped body towards the door next to the shelves and kicks it open to reveal several more stocked shelves before coming to a halt at the buzzing freezer. With a free hand, he lifts the lid open and removes several bags of seafood and miscellaneous food items you can’t quite make out before rolling the body inside the interior. He places the bags on top of the body and latches the freezer shut, securing it with a combination lock from one of his bins.

When he steps back and shut the storage door before turning, he’s surprised to see you standing in the doorway, your hair a mess, his coat hanging loose off one shoulder.  

“Do you remember the night after you took my engagement photos? The ones at that same house?”

His brows scrunch slightly in confusion as he nods. There’s a noticeable flush on your cheeks as you breath in and out from your lips, a puff forming in the chill of the garage. You’re half-asleep, the exhaustion resting well deep in your bones but you can’t bring yourself to find your way towards his bed.

“I left my bedroom door open for you. I-I watched you from the balcony and waited for you to come back.”

Jungkook’s lips part, something foreign stirring in his stomach as the coat weighs down your shoulders and you don’t stop it from sliding down your arms, letting it pool around your feet. You don’t know why you wanted to confess but it felt right. It felt right to confess to something that isn’t about being an accessory in a crime.  

“Why didn’t you say anything, noona?”

You close the distance, putting both of your hands on his chest, over the blood stains on the university sweatshirt. He exhales loudly when you bring him down to your level by a tug of his collar, your lips just a mere centimeter apart.

“Because I wanted you then just as much as I want you now.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between your lips, slamming your body onto the car behind you as he brings one of your legs over his waist to press himself against your heat. Your fingers curl around the nape of his neck and he listens to your squeal as he lifts you fully off the ground and lets you wrap both your legs around him this time. You break the kiss and pepper sweet kisses over the mole on his neck and the smears of dried blood that caked onto his sweatshirt.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, moving your head to the other side of his neck to suckle on his warm skin and feel his pulse through the jugular.

Jungkook quickly throws open the door to the studio and steps into the darkness, his memory allowing him to lead you towards the bathroom without his eyes adjusting. Your eyes burn once more when he reaches behind you to shut the bathroom door close and turn on the yellowed lights with the back of his elbow. When your face comes into view, he sits you on the counter next to the sink and pushes his tongue back in your mouth, your name leaving his lips with a whimper.

He’s terribly hard against your thighs, his length straining through his jeans. You tug him forward by the belt as you break the kiss once more and let him rip open your blood and bleach-stained blouse.

“God, you’re so beautiful, noona. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

He moans as you press the heel of your feet up his erection, his voice muffled by skin filling his mouth as he takes the top your left breast spilling from the brassiere on his tongue. You arch to chase the heat of his tongue, back of your head leaning on the mirror behind.

“My good boy…such a good boy…”

The effect your praise has on him is immediate. Jungkook reaches behind his neck and pulls the sweatshirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. You watch him unbuckle and tug his belt free from the hoops before unclasping the front of his jeans. Impatient, he circles his arms around you to undo the brassiere, leaning down to kiss the indents on your skin as you slip your blouse off your shoulders and pull the straps down your arms. The coolness of the counter causes a hiss to leave your lips and Jungkook drinks in your state of orgasmic delirium like an aphrodisiac.

It’s a blessing for you to have worn a less difficult pair of pants to shimmy out of. With a short tug, Jungkook slides the waistband of your wool slacks and cotton panties down your ankles. When he pauses, chest rising and falling steadily, you follow his gaze to see a streak of blood in the middle of the light pink fabric.

In the time between your mother’s call and your boyfriend dumping your former best friend’s body in a freezer, your period makes an early appearance. The streak of blood is bright and vibrant, unlike Yori’s blood that oxidized into a deep maroon shade on his tanned skin. Jungkook tugs your pants down your ankles but takes your panties into one hand, his doe eyes coming to rest on the blood before something snaps within him.

He throws the fabric on the floor and hooks his arms beneath your shin, prompting you to gasp as he spreads your thighs apart. He stares down at your dark pubic hair before tracing two fingers up your slit and into the curls. His fingers reappear with your blood, seeping underneath his short nails and the crevices of his nailbed.

“Can I taste you, noona?” He breathes, chest rising and falling even faster. His cheeks are flaming red, the flush reaching his earlobes as his lips part for more air. He feels like he can’t breathe, seeing how beautiful, fertile, and red you are for him.

You’re hesitant, the blood reminding you of what you just done – what he just done – yet the burning in your belly proves that you want this just as much as he does. You barely had the chance to nod before Jungkook pushes his face into your pussy, his tongue lapping the blood on your vulva and clit as his nose buries in your trimmed curls. You taste metallic, as if he’s sucking on a penny, but it’s light and the syrupy texture allows him to take all of your juices in his mouth. When his tongue draws circles around your clit and he presses his lips around the nub like a suction, your fingers immediately grasp his hair from the roots, begging his tongue to fuck your weeping pussy.

Jungkook laps your folds like a starving puppy until you’re arching for him once more, thighs trapping his head where it belongs as your cum gushes out of you with traces with red. Between your blood and your juices, he can’t decide which one tastes better. The metallic tang disappears, leaving a fragrant aftertaste that he can only indulge when he inhales through his nose after swallowing what remains on his teeth. When your knees twitch, Jungkook pulls back to come up for air, watching your expression as your eyes fall to his wet crimson lips, the mess reaching his chin and jaw.

It takes a minute for you to gather yourself together and in your exhaustion a slow but soft smile reaches your lips.

“Does it taste good, baby?”

“Heavenly,” he whispers as he traps your body between his arms and gives you a taste, twisting his tongue deep inside your warm mouth. Your hands stroke the contours of his biceps and triceps, core aching as he groans when you lick your remainings from his chin.

You can tell he’s tired, having to do most of the manual labor. He winces as you knead his shoulders and it makes your chest ache. Even when he’s hurting, he takes care of you first. Your precious boy.

“Turn on the shower for me.”

Jungkook is aching to be inside you but he obeys, turning away to step inside the shower and twist the silver handle lodged into the tile. You stand behind him, moving away just slightly when the water – steadily turning hot – sprays over his hair and onto your breasts. Just as he’s about to turn around you circle your arms around his waist and reach into his jeans, palming his throbbing cock before pulling his jeans and briefs down his ankles. He steps out of the tight fabric, watching the remnants of Yori’s blood spiral down the drain as you kick the fabric in front of his toes.

The shower hose is harsh on his head but he can’t seem to pull away, one arm holding onto the wall for purchase, when you cushion your knees with his wet, blood-stained jeans. He can’t get any harder watching water drip from the ends of his hair down to your erect nipples, sliding down between the valley of your breasts and onto your soft stomach.

You’re delighted to see his cock twitch, taking your bottom lip under your teeth as you look up at him.

“You want mommy to take care of you, Kookie?”

He nods, exhaling as his abdomen clenches.

“You want to cum all over mommy’s tits, yeah? Make me proud?”

“Unng…” He moans in response, hips bucking forward to slide his leaking tip across your lips. He whimpers when you pull away, your smile twisting when his stomach clenches again.

You massage his firm thighs, gliding over every ripple of his muscles and over to the patch of pubic hair above his cock. When you pass your hands over his belly button, you stretch a palm up towards his face.

“Spit.”

The mole beneath his lips appear as he gathers as much saliva as he can produce on his tongue and spits into your palm. There are some traces of blood in your palm but you pay no attention to it as you place your saliva-coated palm over his cock and make a fist around the length.

“Mo-mmy,” he throws his head back, the shower head coming down his flushed pecs. Your fist begins to move slow but tight around his hardness. “It feels so good. Fuck…unng, mommy…please…”

Jungkook can cum just from your warm breath hitting his leaking tip but he doesn’t. When you lean forward and take his entire length in your mouth, tongue stretched as far as you can as you press your nose against his pubes, his jaw drops. You’re warm, wet, and fuck, so tight.

His other hand combs through your hair, reaching underneath the nape to pull your head back until your half-lidded eyes can watch his skin glisten.

With your hands back on his thighs, Jungkook expects you to move. What he doesn’t expect was you to tighten your throat before swallowing with his entire length in your mouth.

“Fuck!”

You gag around him but repeats, breathing through your nose before letting your whimpers and cries vibrate his cock. He’s about to lose it, his tightening grip causing your scalp to burn.

“You’re so pretty, mommy,” he pulls his length back just slightly to let you suction him back inside. When his entire length is warm and pulsing in the back of your throat, you swallow once more and begin moving up and down, your eyes closing as Jungkook backs your head to the tile and fucks your mouth at a steady pace.

“Wanna cum in your throat, all over you, inside you. God, you’re so perfect.” He chants, abdomen clenching when your throat tightens just right over his pink tip.

You hum, hands trailing behind his thighs and up to his firm cheeks to push him forward. His grip tightens once more when he whimpers your name, over and over again, his cock driving into your mouth with a vigor that’s bound to leave your throat sore in the morning.

The first spurt of his warm cum hits your uvula and you cough just as he slides out of your mouth and pumps himself into his fist. Watching his creamy cum dripping down the corner of his mouth intensifies his high, prompting him to burst onto your shoulder blades and over your wet breasts. He doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath before he pushes you down onto the tile, moving away the wet jeans to a corner before finding safety between your legs. His arms, on either side of your head, allows him to prop himself up to lead his tip towards your entrance.

He’d forgotten all about cleaning the blood on your neck when you’re spread for him, your hands cupping his face in admiration. Your eyes and nose are still puffy and red, but he knows the blush on your cheeks come from your need to have him deep inside until you can feel him against your cervix.

“I love you, noona. So, so much.”

You hiss slightly when he pushes inside, your snug velvet walls engulfing his cock and keeping him where he belongs. His body bows in servitude to the goddess that is you.

“I love you too,” you huff, brushing your fingers over his sculped cheekbones and mandible. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You let him take you there despite how painful it was to bear him pounding into your walls with the intent to ruin. You’re not sure how long you lay on the tile, how many times he came inside, how sore and painful your insides will be when he’s done. It was never-ending – how Jungkook muffles your wails and whines, how he pumps his cocks while pressing your shoulders down to bury himself deep, how exhausted you are by the time he’s pushing his cum back into your swollen hole. The last orgasm triggers tears to seep from the corner of his eyes which Jungkook kisses away as he reaches up to the shower cloth and waits for you to fall limp before running the soapy cloth along your body.

You’re freezing cold despite the hot water still coming down onto your boyfriend’s body and, from there, onto you. He’s quick to clean you up and wrap you in the same towel he had laid over you the first time you used his studio shower. You can barely move as he carries you to the bed and lays your damp body on the fresh linen. You can hear the sound of him ripping open a thin menstrual pad and placing it in a pair of fresh panties he fished from the shared armoire closet. He slips the panties up your legs, lifting your hips to pull the fabric over your buttocks, flashing his usual charming grin when you murmur a thank you.

He pulls the towel from your body and squeeze out as much water as he can from your long tresses, careful not to tug. It wasn’t ideal to him that you’ll be sleeping with wet hair but you’re beyond exhausted and, to be frank, he is as well. At least he’s heading to bed satiated.

Jungkook slides under the blankets and brings your body closer by your waist. He groans into your neck, his body immediately softening as the warmth of your skin and the blanket brings him the peace and comfort he craved.

“Kookie?”

“Hm?”

It takes a heartbeat for him to sense your sudden anxiety. “…I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” He manages to ask although sleep is weighing heavy on his eyelids.

“I don’t know.” You murmur.

Jungkook is too tired to remember if you said anything afterwards for he falls deep into slumber. As for you, your head won’t let you sleep despite your body pleading for rest. Every part of you can feel Yori’s heavy body in the freezer just several feet away. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about tonight or if tonight should have happened in the first place but in Jungkook’s arms, you can’t find the smallest ounce of pity for the woman.

You close your eyes, snuggle closer into his firm chest, and try your best to pretend nothing will change. You try to forget the flash drive sitting in your bag, the possible evidence your mother may have left behind in the villa, the corpse in the garage. Most of all, you try to forget how Jungkook looked at the bottom of the staircase, slipping the corpse inside the black plastic trash bag with such ease that makes you wonder if he had done this before. He surely must have, that voice inside of your head says but you wave it away.

I don’t know.

You lied to him. For the first time in your relationship, you lied without guilt. You do know why you’re scared and it’s not because after tonight every knock on the door will cause your heart to pound.

No. It’s because you know your boyfriend – your sweet, loving boyfriend who cries watching romantic comedies on Sundays – is truly capable of murder.

[redhead-batgal]

Hiya😊 if you're taking requests can I ask for dick grayson x reader starting off angsty then fluffy ending?

Maybe reader used to be a low level criminal in the past or used to work for a villian and this is somehow now causing problems in dick/readers relationship

Angst 1. Do you enjoy this? Causing me pain? Or is it just a side effect a causalty of knowing you? ( said by dick)

Angst 17. It's okay, really. I never expected you to actually love me (reader)

Then later on dick apologizes and Extreme fluff 4. I love you so much I can't imagine loving anyone else but you

Just thought I'd ask but if you decide not to write this that's totally okay : )))

Type: One-Shot

Pairing: Fem! and Former Criminal! Reader x Dick Grayson/Nightwing

Prompts:  ✢1: “Do you enjoy this? Causing me pain? Or is it just a side effect, a casualty of knowing you?” ✢ 17: “It's okay, really. I never expected you to love me.”  ♕4: “I love you so much I can't imagine loving anyone else but you.” [Okay so I added this prompt just to make the fluff and the angst equal also because it literally fits so well!!! ]  ♕3:”You are every dream I’ve ever had come to life. Every single wish I’ve made. You are my hope and my life.” 

Content:  Cursing, angsty beginning, fluffy ending, some violence, mentions cartoons (I am a kid at heart sorry not sorry y’all😂), writing some parts of this nearly made me cry so like good luck y’all. 

Word Count  : 4,911 words

Y/N: Your Name, L/N: Last Name, C/N: Criminal Name

(P.S: If y’all can spot the reference let me know, I may or may not post a version of this from Dick’s POV if enough people find it. 😉😂 )

(P.P.S: I am so sorry for this taking so long. I just got out to college and set up my room and started classes so yeah I’ve been busy. So my next one-shot might also take me a while) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life is like an endless roller coaster, filled with ups and downs and unexpected corkscrews. Sometimes life hits you as hard as a quick drop does. Unfortunately life isn’t as kind as a roller coaster, you suffer from much more than your stomach flipping in the giant drops of life. 

Some drops, corkscrews and turns in life aren’t exactly what you expect them to be. Sometimes they’re experiences you have to go through, emotions you have to feel even relationships you have to develop.

And a lot like your stomach flipping you can suffer consequences due to these drops, corkscrews and turns. Sometimes it’s minor and you feel nothing more than a little sad, other times it’s intense and you get heartbroken. 

A lot of the time, these consequences could be avoided, especially in regard to relationships. Miscommunication or a lack of communication are a cause of these consequences. Relationships end due to someone saying something they later regret, not saying what they mean or not saying anything at all. Sometimes to save a relationship you just have to say something. 

It had nearly been a year since you had switched sides. Since you had turned from a menace and minor villain in Gotham to a hero... well not exactly. You didn’t technically do anything illegal, however you weren’t one to stop justice from coming to corrupt politicians and conceited CEO’s. 

This attitude, unfortunately stopped you from becoming an official hero, well that and the fact that your plans and schemes were still being used by villains and criminals alike all around Gotham. While you hadn’t been supplying anyone with your schemes and plans since you switched sides, the heroes had yet to understand that... most of them that is. 

Which caused you to have little to none in the friend department when it came to the heroes. You had a few from the bats, but that had more to do with the fact that you were dating Dick Grayson, well Nightwing. He was one of the reasons why you switched sides, not a major one but a reason nonetheless. 

As far as you could tell your relationship was going well. You loved him, would give your life for him, you trusted him. And you thought he loved you back, that he would do whatever it took to keep you safe, that he trusted you as much as you trusted him. You, unfortunately, thought wrong. 

It was probably close to one in the morning. Instead of sleeping like a majority of normal human beings did at this hour, you were sitting on Dick’s couch eating a bowl of his cereal while watching Tom and Jerry. 

Just as Jerry slammed the piano lid down on Tom’s hands you heard the sound of a window sliding open and feet hitting the ground. For a moment you froze till you heard the window sliding shut and a familiar grunt, relaxing you continue to chomp down on the cereal. 

However when you heard the barely audible footsteps instead of the shuffling sounds you usually heard after patrol a bit of worry washed over you. Setting the bowl down you tried not to look too worried as you peered over your shoulder at the still costumed Dick Grayson.

“Hey baby,” You stated softly as he worked his way to you, “how was patrol tonight?”

Flopping down on the couch next to you, he presses his face into the crook of your nest before mumbling out an answer. You sighed running your finger through his hair before deciding to try asking him again. 

Getting a good grip on his head you pulled it away from you and shot him a look. He sighed before wrapping an arm around you and twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

“Patrol was fine...it was normal.” 

You shot him a look of disbelief and he sighed before pressing his head against yours. 

“That is all baby, I promise. It’s just been a long day.”

You could tell that was a lie, but seeing how tired he was, seeing that he just wanted to be near you after today’s patrol, well it was enough that you didn’t push the matter. 

Letting out a sigh you blinked, tilting your face up slightly, you press a quick kiss onto his forehead before pulling away. 

“You need to get changed and go to sleep, you have work tomorrow.” 

Dick nodded and got up from the couch pausing for a moment to take a look at you. However your phone buzzed so instead of meeting his gaze you pulled it from your pocket to take a look at what was going on.

“What about you?” He asks as you stare at your phone screen.

You had received a text from a kid you knew, a kid in the youth group you had helped start. A group to stop kids from ever getting into a situation as bad as yours was. 

For a moment you saw an angry version of yourself, a version who didn’t care about others. A version who just wanted what they wanted and didn’t care how you did it or who you hurt; as long as you got what you wanted in the end. 

Swallowing you pushed away the memories and looked at the text.

Gene: I’m gonna need the package

Looking up at Dick you shook your head. Shoving your phone back into your pocket you stood up. 

“Uh, I have something I need to do real quick then I’ll be back.” You remarked as you looked around for your jacket. 

Grabbing it you moved over to Dick and pressed a kiss to his cheek before giving him a soft smile. 

“I’ll be right back, I promise.” 

Waving goodbye you turned and headed out the door. Hurrying down the stairs you made it to the ground floor then out of the apartment building. Walking over to your car you quickly unlocked it and pulled out a bag filled with blankets and a notebook. Closing the door you locked your car and began your way down the street. 

As you walked you thought about Gene and the situation you got him out of, then you thought about yourself, your past and all the things you had done. All the things that you had gone through. Shaking away the memories you recalled for a moment a similar kind of anger you had been displaying that you used to have. 

Too many people were getting hurt, too many children were suffering due to others actions. While you didn’t condone hurting people, some people needed to be punished for what they did. And some people, well they needed to be taken out before they caused anymore pain. 

It scared you a little, how much you were still like that older version of yourself. While your motives had changed you were still brutal and ruthless when it came to your sense of justice. You could tell it bugged some of the vigilantes, the only person who didn’t seem to have a problem with it at all was Red Hood. 

He knew why you did what you did, hell he was a volunteer at the youth group. If you weren’t proof enough that just because you thought some people deserved to be punished for what they had done, but could still be kind and help people, that you could still be good; then the both of you should be. 

Slowing to a stop you looked around before moving into an alleyway, you saw a figure moving down the other side towards you and you nearly sighed in relief. Gene looked a little shaken but his face slightly lit up when he saw you. 

Jogging towards you he asked, “Do you have it?”

You nodded and offered him the bag. He took it with a small smile but the smile faulted when he saw the notebook.

“What’s that?”

You paused for a moment then took in a breath, “Remember the book I kept telling you guys I was going to write? With all the names and stuff? Well I finally did it, this is the safety book. I thought since I’m done you’d like it.”

Gene blinked and you offered the book to him, he took it and gave you a quick nod. You smiled at him and he looked around before turning to leave. However before he even got three feet away he turned back. 

“Thank you Y/N.”

“It’s fine, now go!” You replied, waving him along.

You watched him nod a smile on his face as he turned and hurried back down the alleyway. Turning around you began to exit the alley when you heard a slight thump and very faint footsteps. You froze and turned around slowly seeing a strangely familiar figure in the darkness. 

Stepping towards you the figure came into the light and you saw Dick Grayson- Nightwing standing in front of you. The look on his face was clearly upset and you furrowed your brow. However before you could ask him what was wrong he took a step towards you remarking in a slightly heartbroken tone. 

“What the hell were you thinking? Selling your plans to a villain? I thought you got out of that life? Was it all a lie? What else have you done?”

You blinked in surprise and took a step back. What was he saying- a villain? He thought Gene was a villain and you were selling plans? What, why? You were so confused and a little hurt. 

“First off,” You began pointing a finger at him, “I didn’t sell shit. Second, I am out of the life. Do you think for one second I could even do anything remotely like I used to while I’m with you? Don’t you trust me?” 

Instead of replying he gave you a look and your stomach dropped. He didn’t meet your eye but he had a frustrated and slightly disappointed body stance. Clenching your fists you shook your head. 

“You don’t trust me.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, “Why the fuck don’t you trust me?”

You watched him for a moment and he looked at you. A big mistake. You could tell just by the look on his face it had to do with your past. It had to do with the fact that you had been a criminal- a villain for a period of time. Despite the reassurance he had previously given you, it was clear that was the center of his doubts. 

“It has to do with my past doesn’t it? Even after you told me that there was no reason for me to worry about it bothering you or anyone else... What else have you lied to me about?” 

“What else have I lied about? What else have you lied about? Did you ever actually switch sides or was this all some kind of ruse? A game?  Do you enjoy this? Causing me pain? Or is it just a side effect, a casualty of knowing you?”

You were shocked, hurt and everything felt like it was falling apart around you. Your chest ached and you couldn’t breathe. A gasp escaped you and you let out a slight sound before shaking your head. 

“Enjoy it? Enjoy this? I should ask you the same damn question you lying bastard. Did you ever love me? Did I actually matter to yo-” You stopped yourself shaking your head, “You know what, no. I don’t even want to know.”

You felt ruined, completely and utterly ruined. Fighting off the tears, you pushed away the feeling of being shattered. Swallowing heavily you looked him in the eyes.

“Not that it matters, but Gene, the boy I was with; is the newest member of a youth group for troubled street kids. I’ve been helping them out, supplying them with food and clothes. The person who started the group was a former street kid herself. I helped recruit Gene, I got him out of the gang life. He was here because he needed some blankets for homeless kids who weren’t ready yet to join the group.” You remarked raising your chin high. 

You had done nothing wrong, in fact you were helping, doing the exact opposite of something wrong.

“What about the notebook you gave him?”

“I wrote down places that had free food, free WIFI, safe places to hang out. Places where kids like him- kids like us could get jobs. Places kids like I used to be could use. Places I wish I knew about before I lost my childhood. People who would take kids in, only for the price of a conversation. I gave him a book of safe places and allies. Not fucking plans. I gave him the key to keeping his childhood just a little longer...” You trailed off looking away from him, “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, it’s not as if you’ll believe me.”

Biting your lip you fought off more tears before taking a breath in. Looking up directly at him you let the breath out. You weren’t going to let this- to let him break you. Not after all you had been through, Dick Grayson- Nightwing, didn’t have that much power over you... right? 

“Goodbye Nightwing, I hope you’re happy now that you’ve chosen this... I hope it brings you bliss. Believing this... bullshit. over me. I hope that not only are you happier, but you get exactly what you want.”

Clenching your fists you turned around, with your head raised high and tears spilling down your face you walked away. Your heart shattering as everything around you began falling apart.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

It had nearly been a month since you and Dick had the argument. You had waited until the next day when he was at work to get your things from his place. You were now essentially off the grid. You were living in a friend’s apartment while she was traveling Europe. 

You could still hear his words echoing in your ears, the accusations, how little he thought of you and then of how shattered you felt. Your brain was scrambling for an explanation, a reason why all of it happened. For something to make it hurt less, but every idea it came up with fell flat. It didn’t exactly fit or there was some kind of huge flaw. 

It hurt, sharply and vibrantly, like you were experiencing it all over again. It was a betrayal, you were turned against. He had decided to trust someone else, to tell someone else of his suspicions. This much you now knew. 

As you dug deeper you began to realize why. Why he thought all he did.There were images. Images of you interacting with the kids from the youth group, images of you telling gang members to back off of the kids. Of course only you knew that. 

You had come to realize that while what Dick was wrong... so very wrong. It wasn’t entirely his fault. Well sort of. If he had asked you what you had been doing you would have told him... but you would have become defensive. You would have thought he didn’t trust you.

As you played the situation over and over in your head you knew it could have gone better, but it also could have gone differently. It could have gone very differently if he had let you explain, if he had given you a chance, but he hadn’t. Of course you knew the evidence against you was strong and no one on the street would give you up, no matter what you were doing. 

You now knew how bad it looked, but what got to you the most was that he so readily believed it, Dick didn’t try to get your side, he just..... he believed the worst of you. And no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t figure out why. 

You can still remember the last words you said to him, you were still in love with him which made it all worse. You remember getting calls from him, voicemails you refused to listen to, so you waited. Waited until you knew he’d be too busy to answer your call. You left a voice message and you can still feel the words, the painful words on your lips, you could feel the lies hammering away at your heart as the truths burned the scraps. 

“I want you to stop calling. It doesn't really matter,” You had lied, “I don’t care about how sorry you are. I don’t care what you thought was going on. You lied to me and thought that I was using you. This has made me realize what we had... it wasn’t love. You can’t say what we said to each other to someone you love... and I’ve realized. It’s okay really, I never expected you to love me. Not actually. I mean after everything I’ve done... I should have known, known that despite all my hopes and beliefs, my expectations were right. Anyways, this will probably be the last you’re gonna hear from me. So I’m sorry, sorry for not telling you things, but I’m also sorry you felt you couldn’t trust me enough to ask me. Ask me if I was doing bad things, ask me if I actually was back in the life. So I guess this is goodbye. I want you to know I’m never going to forget you or what we had despite it’s downs. You saved me in a sense. So thank you, thank you and fuck you. Fuck you for giving me a glimpse into what I could have had, for taking it from me. Fuck you for raising me up and then shattering me whole. Goodbye Dick- Goodbye.” 

A knock at the door yanks you from the memories, from the sharp jabs at your heart. You looked towards the door and stilled your breathing. Then you heard another knock and someone on the other side. 

“Y/N it’s Barbara. Can you please come let me in?”

You froze, if Barbara had found you it was possible so had he. And while you didn’t want to care so much you did. You could feel your heart picking up at the thought of a chance to see him again. However you didn’t move. Sitting still on the couch you tried your hardest to remain quiet. 

“I’m alone, Y/N. But if you don’t open the door I am going to call Dick.” 

For some reason, Barbara’s statement had you on your feet. You walked to the door and realized what you were doing as your hand touched the handle. Taking in a breath you looked through the peephole and saw Barbara in her wheelchair alone.

You yanked the door open and she gave you a look before shrugging and wheeling her way into the apartment. As you closed the door she off-handedly remarked,

“You look almost as bad as Dick.”

Locking the door you turned back towards her, determined to keep a distance in case she tried something though you had a feeling she never would. Turning towards her you raised an eyebrow not moving. 

Barbara rolled her eyes before she pushed up her glasses and crossed your arms. You mirrored her stance and the two of you began a stare down. A game of chicken almost. However the fear that she was here to somehow stall you while Dick got here had you caving in fairly quickly. 

“What do you want Babs?”

Barbara gave you a look, it was a look of pity almost. It was as if she could see all the damage your heart had taken, as if she could see the pain you were going through and wanted to stop it. 

“He’s bad, you know. Without you. I honestly don’t think the man’s slept in the past few weeks... I’m fairly sure Tim has gotten more sleep than him, Tim.”

You shifted slightly, your heart panging at the thought of him not sleeping, of him not taking care of himself but you pushed it back. Feeling the hurt- the hole he had made in you. 

“I don’t understand how that has anything to do with what you want. I made it very clear to him we are done.”

You saw something flicker in Barbara’s eyes and watched as her entire body language changed from soft, pity filled and somewhat worried to stiff, tense and slightly angry. 

“Yeah, I know about that. What the hell were you thinking by the way?”

You responded without thinking,

“Have you asked him the same question about what he did that night? Because if not, you have no right to question my motives for what I did.” 

The reply came out sharp and bitter and so much harsher than you meant it to. Barbara relaxed slightly looking you in the eyes and you turned away from her.

“If you’re just here to try and get me to talk to.. him. It’s not going to happen. I explained everything and made myself very clear.”

“You didn’t let him get any word in. How was he supposed to defend himself? How was he supposed to explain?”

“I’ve been asking myself almost the same question. But in reference to that night, and with me instead of him not being able to talk at all.” You began straightening out as anger flooded the hole, “He assumed many things that weren’t true and accused me of awful things. I did not for a single damned second say a thing in that voicemail he should feel the need to defend himself against.” 

She went still for a moment and you could see that she saw how hurt you were. How deep it went and how far you were willing to take it. You didn’t like pain, you wanted, so badly wanted it all to go away. But here you were talking about it once again. 

“Is there anything else you want Barbara? Or do you want to continue to argue with me about something that is very much not only not your business but over.”

Barbara nodded somewhat slowly and she began to wheel herself towards you- towards the door when her phone buzzed and she paused. She looked at her phone then at you and a light flickered in her eyes. 

“I do have something... would you mind helping me? I need someone to go check out some suspicious activity. Dick is... out of commission. And everyone else is either on patrol halfway across the city or not in Gotham at the moment.”

You gave her a look, suspicion was strong in your chest but reluctantly you found yourself nodding. 

Barbara smiled before telling you an address and rolling out the door. Closing the door behind her you cursed under your breath. What had you just agreed to?

Before you knew it, you found yourself in front of the building that Barbara had directed you too. You were wearing the costume Dick had given you and the feeling of it against your skin stirred up memories that made the hole feel a little bit bigger. 

Ignoring the memoires and the feelings you began to investigate. As you scanned the building’s outside you saw a man standing on the berth of the doorway holding a large briefcase.  

Just as you were about to take a step towards the man you felt a wave of heat. A loud boom followed it and suddenly something slammed into you. It was a black and blue blur that sent you flying away form the booming sound and heat. 

You slammed against the ground before letting out a slight cough, your eyes watering as you felt a weight press you against the ground. 

“What the hell?” You mumbled.

A familiar voice hit your ears and your blood went cold. “Y/N, are you alright?”

Blinking you found Dick- no Nightwing above you looking extremely concerned.

“Fine, fine, get off of me.” You remarked shoving at him.

He did as you asked and you pushed yourself to your feet giving him a quick glance as your heart did spins in your chest. Turning away you moved to go after the man when he grabbed onto your arm stopping you in your tracks. 

“What are you doing? There’s a criminal right there!” You snapped tugging on his grip.

“You’re more important.” Nightwing remarked in a slightly desperate tone.

“What?”

“I need to talk to you.”

You blinked in shock that he would be using this situation to demand a conversation. You shook your head in disbelief.

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

Rolling your eyes you nodded and commented, “Of course you do.”

“It’s because you’re wrong.” Nightwing said firmly, pulling you towards him. 

Shaking your head you dug your heels into the ground laughing bitterly as you stated somewhat sarcastically, “What a lovely thing to tell someone who is seriously pissed at you!”

“What we had- what we still have is love.”

“Excuse me?” You remarked freezing for a moment. 

“You said what we have isn’t love, but it is. The reason I was able to say those things to you was because I love you.” He said looking at you. 

“Pardon?” 

“I love you, and the thought that you didn’t love me back that it was all an act terrified me. Because... well because  I love you so much I can’t imagine loving anyone else but you. And if I loved you that much but you didn’t love me-”

The look on his face, how genuine he seemed made your heart do bigger turns, ones so sharp your breath caught.

“It would have ruined you.” Your words came out in a whisper as you stared at him not fully believing his words. 

As if he could tell you didn’t fully believe him, he took your face in his hands. Staring into your eyes he took in a breath. 

“I love you.” He said, “I love you, I love you. And I refuse to let my fears tear you away from me.” 

You shook your head, feeling tears once again beginning to appear in the corners of your eyes. You  looked away from him and he pressed his forehead against yours. 

“I don’t-” You began as your voice cracked, “I can’t- no. I don’t believe you.”

“You,” He began staring at you, “are every dream I’ve ever had come to life. Every single wish I’ve made. You are my hope and my life.  I can’t imagine a life without you in it. You are my everything and I am hopelessly lost without you.”

You sniffed and bit your lip as you avoided his gaze. He sighed and pulled away from you. 

“I have no excuses for what happened, it was wrong and it should have never happened. But I do regret every single second of it. If I could go back I would change everything that happened. I am so sorry that I hurt you, I don’t know what to do with myself knowing I cause you pain.”

As he began to ramble on with apologies you realized that if you didn’t matter to him, if he didn’t love you he wouldn’t be trying so hard. As you half-listened you came to the conclusion that you were nearly as bad as him. In love, deeply in love, to the point of where it didn’t seem real. It’s why you so badly wanted an explanation. A reason for it to hurt less. 

You looked at him and opened your mouth to tell him you felt the same when something he said stopped you. 

“I know you may never trust me again, I hurt you- I broke your trust by not believing in you, but I will keep trying to prove that you can trust me. Because I do trust you. I trust you with one of the most important things I have... my heart.” 

You snorted, pulling away form him you began to laugh and he gave you concerned and confused looks. 

“What- did I do something wrong?”

“OH, you really need to stop watching those rom-coms.” You giggled

He looked at you and relaxed with a slight smile. Wiping at your eyes you shook your head smiling.  Pressing your heads together again he smiled and laughed slightly. However a large boom stopped any words from being shared between the two of you. 

“Are you two-love birds done or are we going to have to deal with the bomb welding manic on our own?” Batgirl shouted as black and red smoke swirled behind her. 

You looked back to Nightwing- Dick and smiled a bit wider. Turning back towards Batgirl you shot her a maniacal grin before standing up straight. 

“Why Batgirl, didn’t you know. Bomb welding maniacs are my personal specialty.” You remarked causing her to laugh. 

You paused just for a moment looking back at Dick. You were actually glad  he took the time to talk to you. You were glad he explained everything. You were glad he had the courage to say something. Because if he hadn’t you didn’t know where you’d be. But right now you were happy, feeling a bit less broken. It wasn’t where you used to be with him, but it was a start. A start to something... permanent. Something good. 

It was a start, with endless possibilities, but it was a start. 

Tag List: @andromedaj2003   @battlenix    @sol-the-salmon 

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: you are a mermaid and you save a handsome man from drowning but little do you know it’s not his first rodeo when dealing with mermaids. seonghwa, a former prince, is currently hongjoong’s first mate and boyfriend. hongjoong is the captain, the pirate king of the most savage crew across the seas. and you want nothing to do with them. not because they’re pirates, but because they’re humans…

ship: mermaid!reader x prince/pirate!seonghwa x pirate!hongjoong

genre: little mermaid!au, pirate!au, angst, fantasy, romance

author’s note: demon!jongho x wizard!yunho let’s get ittttt

warnings: some swearing, mentions of demonic activity & torture, hell references (idk, just in case someone’s uncomfy with that), mentions of drowning, kissing

word count: 3.3k

chapter one ☠️ chapter two ☠️ chapter three ☠️ chapter four ☠️ chapter five ☠️chapter six ☠️ chapter seven ☠️ chapter eight ☠️ chapter nine ☠️ chapter ten ☠️ chapter eleven ☠️ chapter thirteen ☠️ spotify playlist

Jongho’s POV

"It appears your time is up," I smirked triumphantly the minute I snatched Hongjoong away from his ship. Humans were so foolish it would almost be amusing if a tiny part of me didn't feel bad for them. Key word: tiny. 

Collecting human souls and becoming more powerful was a far more pleasant activity than whatever sense of guilt had briefly visited me. As I was saying, humans: 0. Me: 8524. Or was it 8525 already? I began losing count of how many souls I'd acquired throughout my immortal life. 

And it's not like I wasn't a benevolent demon. I had warned Hongjoong what would happen if he achieved true happiness. It wasn’t my fault he found joy so quickly. It wasn't my fault he couldn't find a way to be miserable in order to prolong his life on earth. Or should I have said life at sea? Damn pirates and their weird habits.

"Please, I need more time," Hongjoong begged wretchedly.

"If I had a soul for every time I heard that line. Actually, nevermind. I do have a soul for every time I heard that," I shrugged smugly.

"So what's one more week to you? You can't die, right?" he bargained relentlessly.

"Fair point, but a deal is a deal. Any last words?"

"I just want to say goodbye to my friends. My soul will be yours for eternity, so what's the rush?" Hongjoong kept talking. 

Ah, humans and their never-dying hope. If it wasn't so pathetic, it would have been admirable.

"Hm, let me think...No," I rejected his plea without even bothering to consider it. 

And just as I was about to put an end to his mortal existence and absorb his soul, I felt a surge of faintly familiar power calling me. No, summoning me. Oh, what the hell?

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Yunho's POV

"Hello, demon," I greeted Jongho reluctantly.

"What do you want, wizard?" he scoffed. "And why have you trapped me in this ridiculous circle?"

"I have my reasons," I responded vaguely. "Care to explain what you've been intending to do with that pirate's soul?"

"It's none of your business," Jongho rolled his eyes.

"I suggest you tell me unless you want to stay here forever."

Jongho laughed maniacally. Ever the narcissistic prick.

"You think this can hold me down?" he moved towards me swiftly, as if intending to break away from my spell. 

Once he realized there was an invisible wall preventing him from escaping, he eyed me with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

"Now, I'm intrigued. How did you become so capable?"

"Answer my question first and then I'll decide whether to tell you," I suggested, fully aware of the fact I had the high ground in this situation. 

Maybe not forever like I'd threatened, but it would certainly be long enough to make Jongho speak.

"Very well. I was intending to devour his soul. I don't seem to have enough pirates in my collection. Too many corrupt politicians, which is kinda gross, don't you think?"

"When will you put this obsession of yours to an end? Aren't you already powerful enough down there?"

"Obviously not powerful enough since you've managed to entrap me."

I shook my head in disbelief.

"I can't let you take Hongjoong's soul."

"Why?"

"Like you said before, it's none of your business," I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Humour me, wizard. What's so special about this pirate?"

"Alright. To put it simply, I've invested too much of my energy and magic to his loved ones' well-being. If he is taken away from them, all my efforts will have been in vain. It would be a waste."

😈😈😈

Jongho's POV

"Who are they? His loved ones?" I asked despite myself. 

Even though I was furious at Yunho for summoning and tricking me into this circle, my inquisitiveness was growing by the minute. Wizards usually didn't meddle in demons' affairs. But for some reason, I kept running into Yunho every now and then. And though he was a bit annoying, he certainly wasn't boring. So, I kept playing along.

"A mermaid and a former prince. Satisfy your curiosity?" Yunho replied without giving too many details. Okay, I'll bite.

"Juicy," I murmured. "And what exactly did you invest in them?"

"Let's just say I have helped them transform in ways previously thought impossible."

"Aw, come on, you've got to give me more than that," I insisted.

"Maybe I will. But first, you're gonna have to promise me you won't take the pirate's soul."

"And what's in it for me?" I pouted. "You know I don't do things for free."

"Bloody demons," Yunho muttered under his breath. "I'll give you something that will make you as powerful as you want."

"As powerful as the devil himself?" I blinked incredulously.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"And what, pray tell, is that?" 

"A wizard's soul," No. He couldn't... "Mine, to be specific."

Idiot. Beautiful, impossible idiot.

"You dare compare yourself to the devil?" I cackled.

I didn't understand it myself but a part of me was actively trying to talk him out of it.

"Not right now. But in a few years, I'll be even stronger. With my powers in your collection, you'll be invincible."

"You're willing to give up your soul and yet you don't even know that pirate?"

"I don't need to," Yunho waved me off.

"And if you trick me? If you don't become powerful as you suggest you will?" 

I kept trying to change his mind. It was insane. He was presenting me with an unbelievably good possibility and I was attempting to dissuade him. What was wrong with me?

"Well, then, you'll have eternity to torture my soul."

"Hm. Tempting, I admit."

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Yunho's POV

"Then, just agree to it, Jongho," I pleaded.

"You must be really desperate to call me by my name," the demon observed correctly. Damn, how I hated that he was right.

"Don't pretend you haven't made up your mind already. No other wizard would ever offer you something like that," I couldn't take no for an answer.

"So what makes you so different from other wizards?"

"I don't know. But the fact remains. You can't reject me. You're far too greedy to let go of your ambitions now."

"This is your last warning, Yunho. If I give up the pirate's soul and take yours instead, you will regret it. Human souls wither in time and their miseries become less painful. A soul like yours? It could last till eternity and beyond. And every second in hell will be agony. It will destroy you little by little. And even when you might think there is nothing left, it will still persevere against all odds. I wouldn't wish such a fate on anyone."

"Aw, are you worried for me, demon?" I teased him. "You don't think I can handle it?"

"Shut up and get me out of this obnoxious circle."

"I take it we have a deal, then?" I said confidently.

"Regrettably so."

"You'll let Hongjoong go?" I needed a confirmation.

"Haven't I made it obvious? What could I possibly do with him when I'll have you in a couple of years?"

"You didn't strike me as the patient type," I laughed, while undoing the spell trapping him.

"I can be patient for the right reason, wizard."

"The right reason being my immortal soul?" I joked, even though every cell of my being was telling me to run, even though I was already beginning to regret my impulsive decision. My love for humans would be my downfall...

"Can there be any other reason?" Jongho, now free, traced his finger across my jaw. "Hell, I can't wait to devour you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

☠️☠️☠️

Hongjoong's POV

That damn demon just disappeared?! I had no idea what was happening but before I could waste any more time wondering, I decided to take advantage of the situation and try to escape from wherever his lair was. However, it was too dark to see anything and no matter how much I ran, I couldn't find a way out. I was beginning to panic, thinking about the demon's potential return when I felt a pair of strong arms pulling me. Not given the chance to protest, I could only determine that I was suddenly being taken away. Soon enough, I was greeted by a familiar sight that reminded me of the happiest memories of my life. I was back on the ship! I couldn't believe my luck and whoever my mysterious saviour was, I knew that I owed them everything. Letting go of me, I attempted to discern their features but in vain. The pitch-black night surrounded us from all sides.

"Who are you?"

"A friend. That's all you need to know for now."

"How can I repay you for what you did for me?" 

"You can't," the stranger replied sadly, obviously leaving something out. I was too terrified to ask what they meant by that. So, I asked something else, instead.

"Will I see you again?"

"At sunrise. I need to talk to all three of you at once."

"All three of us?" 

But before I could inquire what exactly my saviour was suggesting, they disappeared. Were they referring to Seonghwa, Y/N and myself? I groaned quietly and figured I'd just have to be patient and wait until the morning. Until then, I couldn't do much but see Seonghwa again (since I assumed Y/N was back in the sea during the night). I wasn't sure whether (and if so, when) the demon would return for my soul, so I hurried to our room. Imagine my distress when I didn't find Seonghwa there. Running a hand through my hair, I hurried to check my other crewmates' rooms. There was no trace of any of them. If something had happened to them while I was at the demon's lair...I would never be able to forgive myself. Even if I didn't have much time left, I was determined to spend every second of it looking for my friends. Eventually, I decided that checking Mingi's cell was the only solution. If he was still there, he might know something about my crew's disappearance. If he wasn't...then, I would have no idea where to go next.

"Mingi?" I yelled but in vain. His cell was empty. Fuck. Was this some wicked game? Had the demon taken all of them just to mess with me? Where was everyone? I couldn't think of anything but...No, this was too dangerous. But it's not like I had something to lose, right? I had already sold my soul. So, I abandoned my ship and jumped into the sea.

"Y/N! Y/N!" I started screaming while swimming further away from the ship. She probably wouldn't be able to hear me. But I was desperate, okay? And besides, what other choice did I have? To my utter disbelief, she appeared on the surface soon after I began looking for her. An involuntary sigh of relief left my mouth. But then, it hit me. It was a full moon. Which made Y/N more like a siren. Oh, fuck it. If I was about to go to hell, I might as well be drowned by her instead of have my soul absorbed by that demon.

"Hongjoong!" she exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied and swam towards her, completely disregarding the potential danger. "Where did everyone go?"

"They went looking for you, of course!" Y/N explained. "And I had to return here, because of...well, you know why."

I smiled nervously.

"And Mingi?"

"Yeosang let him go," she said.

"Yeosang?" I was shocked.

"I don't know, he said they would need more hands or something," Y/N chuckled at the cruel irony of it. "Yeo's been visiting him. He said Mingi's...different. Kinder."

"Why do I have difficulties believing that?"

"Everyone can change, I guess," she shrugged. Wait, when had she gotten so close?  Almost too close...

"Y/N..." I whispered her name in warning, but she didn't seem to hear me. Wrapping her arms around my neck, I felt unable to move. Completely transfixed by her, a small fraction of my brain was terrified of the fact I didn't feel terrified, at all.

"I missed you," she responded with a song-like voice. "Come with me."

"Okay," my mouth agreed even though my mind was still struggling to accept this. Then, she pulled me under. This was it, then? Surrounded by the endless water, her lips touched mine, giving me a breath of air. A couple of moments later, I realized something unexpecting. She wasn't trying to drown me. She was trying to save me. Her siren nature had made her take me beneath the surface. But her human nature was the one providing me with oxygen. After what felt like centuries of kissing, I felt Y/N letting go of me and pushing me upwards. What had just happened?

🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️

Reader's POV

Finally! Oh, how much you'd missed the sweet sunrise! You swam towards the ship. Memories of what had taken place mere hours ago flooded you. You wondered if Hongjoong would be angry with you. You had to explain everything to him and it couldn't wait any longer. You hoped he'd understand...And that he had made his way back home safely.

"Hongjoong!" you cried out, overwhelmed by guilt. He appeared soon enough, looking absolutely wrecked, like he hadn't slept at all. Knowing him, that was probably the case. You climbed up the ladder and the first thing you did was hug him. You were surprised he didn't flinch away. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," he replied calmly.

"I thought I could control her. I didn't think she'd try to drown you. I tried my best to stop her but..." you were rambling before you could realize what he was saying.

"I know, sweetheart, I know."

"Wait...what?" you looked up at him in confusion.

"If you hadn't kissed me, I would have drowned. I could feel you struggling against your siren nature."

"So, you forgive me?" you mumbled nervously.

"There's nothing to forgive," Hongjoong unconsciously repeated your words.

You smiled at him gratefully and then, it hit you.

"Hold on, if you're not mad at me, why do you look so miserable?"

"Seonghwa and the crew still haven't returned. After our nocturnal encounter, I thought it sensible to come back to the ship and wait until dawn. I have no idea where to start looking for them."

"Oh, shit, I was so focused on fighting against my siren self that I forgot to tell you," you mentally slapped yourself. "They took the boats and said if they don't find you, they'll come back to the ship in the morning."

"So, why aren't they here yet?" Hongjoong asked anxiously.

"Aren't they?" you grinned and pointed towards the horizon, where a couple of boats were approaching the ship.

☠️☠️☠️

Seonghwa's POV

"Oh my God," I whispered as soon as I saw Hongjoong on the ship. Safe and sound. I ran towards him and enveloped him in a suffocating hug. "Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

"Relax, Hwa, I'll tell you everything I know," he promised.

"You better! We resorted to letting Mingi go in order to search for you!" I hissed.

"You know I can hear you, right?" Mingi complained.

"Yeosang kept saying some nonsense about how he was a changed man or whatever," I kept going.

"Still right here," Mingi announced awkwardly.

"As you might have guessed," Hongjoong interrupted us, completely unbothered by Mingi's freedom. I assumed Y/N had told him already. "I was taken by a demon."

"We figured," Yeosang confirmed.

"I told them about your stupid deal," I groaned.

"Hey, it's not stupid, Yeosang's still alive, isn't he?" Hongjoong argued.

"It is stupid. It's not like I would have killed my favourite pirate in the universe," Mingi intervened.

Yeosang had the audacity to wink at Mingi!

"Shut up, Mingi," Hongjoong said and continued telling us of his adventures. "Now, where was I? So, the demon told me he'd take my soul and like, I tried to talk my way out of it but before I could achieve anything, he disappeared. Naturally, I tried to escape from wherever I was but it was so dark I couldn't see a thing. Eventually, I was saved by some stranger who teleported me back to the ship. My saviour said we'll meet again at sunrise. That's when they vanished, as well, and I noticed you all weren't on the ship. I checked Mingi's cell and of course, it was empty. So, I decided to wait until the morning."

Hongjoong and Y/N exchanged a strange look that led me to believe that wasn't the whole story. I made a mental note to ask them in private what that was all about. But until then, we had more pressing matters to discuss.

"So, the demon just let you go? This doesn't make any sense," I pointed out suspiciously.

"I don't know why or how but I'm grateful I get to spend more time with you. All of you," Hongjoong clarified. "Even Mingi, for fuck's sake."

Mingi chuckled cutely at being acknowledged like that.

"You think the demon will come back for you?" I inquired.

"No idea, but let's hope not," Hongjoong said.

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Yunho's POV

As I was a man of my word, I teleported myself back to Hongjoong's ship at sunrise. And apparently, my timing was particularly appropriate, because the crew had gathered around Hongjoong and he was obviously telling them of his recent experiences. Making myself invisible on purpose, I appeared in the most dramatic fashion, taking them by surprise.

"Holy shit!" Seonghwa yelped in shock but soon enough, remembering how I'd helped him, visibly relaxed. "Yunho!"

"It's the wizard of the lighthouse!" Y/N exclaimed gleefully.

"Hello again," I greeted them.

"Wait, I know that voice!" Hongjoong announced. "You're the guy who saved me last night!"

"In the flesh," I confirmed, a little too smugly.

"You said you need to talk to the three of us," Hongjoong repeated my words. "Did you mean Seonghwa, Y/N and me?"

"Aren't you a clever pirate?" I patted his shoulder proudly. "No offense but I'd like to keep our conversation private. For now."

"None taken," another one of the pirates shrugged.

Hongjoong led me, Seonghwa and Y/N to a room where I assumed we'd be able to have some privacy. As I informed them of the deal I'd made with Jongho, their faces lit up with a mixture of relief and terror. Relief, I imagined, because they were happy Hongjoong would stay with them. Terror, I figured, because humans and mermaids alike, were quite compassionate by nature, and they probably felt bad for me.

"I don't understand..." Hongjoong spoke quietly. "You don't even know me and you would give up your soul for me?"

"Funny, that's exactly what the demon said," I shook my head. "The truth is, I'm too invested in the three of you already to watch him break you apart. First, with transforming Seonghwa's face so that he can have a new life away from his parents. Then, with fulfilling Y/N's wish to have legs during the day so that she can be with you two. Now, this...I can't explain it myself, but seeing the three of you happy, I feel like it's worth the risk. If Hongjoong was taken away from Seonghwa and Y/N, all of the good magic I've done would go to waste."

They looked at me with so much gratitude and worry I couldn't bear it and told them something I probably shouldn't have.

"Don't worry about my soul. I have a plan that demon will never see coming."

"Do you need our help?" Y/N asked.

"I'm not sure yet, but if I do, I'll come to you."

"Please, do. We owe you big time," Seonghwa responded.

"Don't mention it," I waved him off. "But until then, enjoy your lives."

To be continued…

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 4 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!!  🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: The Hoardless Dragon

Summary: Thorin has been waiting his whole life for something interesting to happen in Erebor, and when Tharkun arrives with a “dragon expert” to warn of Smaug’s survival he thinks he may have gotten his wish. However, Thror falling in and out of the gold madness its beneficial to Erebor’s defenses, and it may be that there is more than one dragon to fear.

Tharkun has always been a curious character. Thorin may only be twenty-three, but he knew enough to recognize at least this fact. First off, he carried himself as neither man nor elf. Thorin has always been amicable to the men of Dale, much to his grandfather’s chagrin. Even to a lesser extent, his own father seemed hesitant over his friendship with Girion’s son. Flawed they may be, Thorin would describe men as a race as being unchiseled rock. Rough, but hiding their true value deep within. He would never use this to describe Tharkun.

Likewise, the elves had an almost ethereal, and in Thranduil’s case, haughty air about them that also didn’t apply to the wizard. Tharkun carried the same wisdom and experience as the ageless race, but he was also warm and wizened like he came to expect of men. He could even argue that Tharkun was secretive and stubborn like his own people if his battle of wits with his grandfather was any indication. Yes, Tharkun was odd. However, he was also kind. He encouraged Thorin’s curiosity of what lay beyond the gates of Erebor with tales of stone giants and great eagles. Battles fought long ago, and hidden lands of green hills and little people.

Thror may look at the eccentric being and sneer, but Thrain and Thorin were in near agreement that Tharkun was a true Khuzdbâha (dwarf-friend). That’s not to say Thorin was blind to the fact that Tharkun was a meddlesome interloper who preferred to speak in riddles. Thorin was third in line for the throne after all, and he knew how to watch for a politician’s half-truths. Still, when the herald rushed into the throne room to announce the arrival of the grey wizard, Thorin found himself fidgeting beside his grandfather’s throne in excitement.

Thrain’s eyes were twinkling as he looked over his father’s head at him. Still his words were reprimantory. 

“Thorin, behave.”

The young prince ducked his head trying his best to calm himself. He still wasn’t quite used to throne room behavior, and was constantly being reminded to behave. His mother was in fits that he had to attend open court at all thinking him still too young. He was proud of the fact that his father was already training him in his duties to the crown. However, he knew his father wouldn’t have sprung it on him at all if it wasn’t for his grandfather’s declining health. 

It was something Thrain and Fris did well to hide from their children, but Thorin wasn’t blind. The days of Thror encouraging Thorin and Frerin in their mischief as they tried to sneak by his office or taking him into the forge to experience his first taste at smithing were far behind him. Now, he could barely catch his grandfather’s attention so absorbed was he in his gold. Even raised to appreciate the might and beauty of Erebor, Thorin had a hard time understanding why his grandfather spent so much time with his gold and gems. Even his smiles and laughter were now replaced with ice glares and harsh words. Thorin loved his grandfather, but he was not so sure that his grandfather loved him anymore. Whatever strange inflection has taken Thror, Thorin hoped Tharkun held the cure.

The doors to the throne room were thrown open once more as Tharkun was escorted down the path with four guards stationed inside. A new precaution his grandfather deemed important to take as of late. Tharkun made no motion that the blatant display of distrust bothered him as he swept his way to the bottom of the steps with a deep bow and wide grin.

“Hail Thror, son of Dain. Hail Thrain, son of Thror. Hail Thorin, son of Thrain. It pleases me greatly to see the sons of Durin in good health and prosperity.”

Thror was content to glare down at the wizard so Thrain took it upon himself to greet their guest.

“Hail Tharkun! If we had known you would be arriving, we would have already pulled out the good mead. As it is, if you intend to join us for dinner tonight, I would see it done.”

“You do know how to tempt me, dear friend. As much as I would like to revel in pleasantries, I believe business must come first.”

“Yes, what storm follows in your wake this time, Tharkun Amsâlakhzar (bringer of bad luck)?” Thror mused.

The room was immediately filled with tension as Tharkun’s eyes narrowed on Erebor’s king in tight scrutiny. He’s never actually seen it in action, but Cousin Fundin, used to tell Thorin stories of Tharkun’s raw power, and how you never anger a wizard. The dwarf prince was half-afraid he was about to get a firsthand account.

“Ha!”

The sudden noise seemed to startle everyone in the room as Thorin turned his head just noticing for the first time that Tharkun did not arrive alone. The strangest being Thorin had ever seen in his life stepped out from behind the wizard. He stood merely an inch or two taller than Thorin which was on the small side for a dwarf. His beardless face, large wooly feet, and slightly pointed ears hidden by bronze curls stood in stark contrast to what Thorin was used to with his own kind having never seen another species of their height. Even his fashion was bizarre with the short trousers, perfectly tailored vest, and a velvet jacket of all things. That’s when Thorin remembered Tharkun’s stories of the little people on the other side of the world. This creature must be a halfling!

“I suppose you had every reason to fear, Grey Wizard, I’ll give you that much.” The halfling snorted, deriving some sort of depravatated humor from the situation.

“And what is this?” Thror demanded.

“Not what, Your Majesty, who. You can be knee deep in a dragon spell, and still have some manners about you.” The smaller male mocked.

Thorin had a detached bewilderment as he watched the impending mine-collapse. His own father didn’t speak to Thror so brazenly, and by the tightened grip on the stone throne, this matter would not be taken lightly. Still he couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by ‘dragon spell’?

“How silly of me!” Tharkun forced the diversion even as his hands tightened on his staff. “King Thror, Prince Thrain, Prince Thorin, allow me to introduce Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.”

At this the halfling gave a small nod of his head raising the ire of his grandfather. The smaller male would be lucky to leave with his life if he continued on this way. However, Master Baggins' attention then swept over to Thorin himself, and the halfling seemed caught off-guard for the first time tilting his head just slightly as he blinked slowly. The halfling’s hand immediately went to the golden band on his right hand, and he began to fiddle with it while narrowing his eyes on Thorin. 

“Why is Bilbo Baggins of the Shire in my mountain?” Thror snarled, pulling Thorin’s attention back to his grandfather and the wizard.

“Bilbo has been my traveling companion as of late.” Tharkun smiled, seeming to think the conversation was back on his terms.

“Not voluntarily, mind you.” The halfling grumbled earning a small whack on his back from the wizard’s staff.

Thorin had to duck his head to hide his mirth at the scene, but when he looked back up the halfling was watching him again. This time with more fondness, as he gave the prince a wry grin and a quick wink.

“You see, I asked Mister Baggins to join me because I noticed stirrings to the north.” Tharkun remarked casually enough.

“Stirrings of what?” Thrain asked curiously.

“That my Prince, is the right question.” Tharkun smiled brightly before his face and tone fell grave in the blink of an eye. “The fire-drake, Smaug, is awakening from his slumber, and he seems to be sniffing out a new hoard to bed in even as we speak. If you do not take precautions, I fear his sights may fall to Erebor.”

The wizard’s warning was met with silence. Thorin wouldn’t lie. There was a small part of him that thought this was fantastic news. Nothing exciting ever happens in Erebor! The entire time he’s shadowed his father, it’s been nothing but boring council meetings, numbers and figures, even their trips down to Dale had become tedious. Now, though, there was something exciting to occupy his attention, and he couldn’t deny that part of him that wanted to charge headfirst and face down a dragon to earn his epithet. Thorin Dragonslayer, they would call him!

Outwardly, he portrayed the same concern he could see on his father’s face. Then his grandfather burst into fits of laughter.

“You have told some tall tales, Wizard, but this one steals the prize! A dragon! Next you’re going to tell me Durin’s Bane itself is knocking on my doors.”

“It is no jest, King Thror.” Tharkun insisted with a tight expression.

Thror sobered up some, but still seemed to discredit the grey figure’s words.

“I have been chased from my home by a dragon before. I know the signs. Erebor is prosperous, it will not fall. Especially to a fire-drake that has been extinct for ages!”

“You ignore the signs.” Mister Baggins stepped forth once more. “They are all here, King Under the Mountain, and the fire-breather Smaug lives as well as a few that your people refer to as cold-drakes. Why, it wouldn’t shock me to find Eisigem still sleeps in Dain’s Halls.”

“Enough, you impertinent imp!” Thror cried, jumping to his feet.

Thorin’s hand fell to his sword at his waist along with the other guards even though he was conflicted about attacking Tharkun and his companion. Still, the hobbit offered his grandfather great insult, and he was not about to deny that.

“Who are you to question the word of the king?” Thror demanded.

Mister Baggins’ lips were pressed in a tight line, and once glance at the dark look from Gandalf sealed his sour mood.

“My apologies, Your Majesty.” Mister Baggins replied in a clipped tone. “I am but a simple hobbit, and it is clear that I overreached my station.”

“A simple hobbit, in the service of this ustar (interferer).”

“Gandalf is an...old friend. He called on me for a favor, and I found myself in the position of being able to fulfill his request.” Mister Baggins offered in response.

Thror gradually seated himself once more, and Thorin relaxed the grip on his blade. Tharkun stepped in at that point, half shielding the smaller being behind his person.

“Bilbo, you see, is something of a dragon expert.” The wizard offered. “I thought his knowledge would benefit Erebor well with the terrible news I’ve brought.”

Thorin stared at Bilbo with renewed interest. A dragon expert? How many of the beasts had he slain to earn such a title? Thorin found himself hungry for the halfling’s story perhaps more so than he ever yearned for Tharkun’s own.

“Aye, a dragon expert.” Thror huffed wryly. “Why he looks more grocer than warrior. Axe or sword, Mister Baggins, what is your choice?”

He smirked darkly in response to the king’s blatant mocking as he continued to fiddle with the ring on his finger in agitation. “Neither. I’m more fond of using my bare hands and teeth.” 

Thror huffed, not impressed with the hobbit’s jest even as Tharkun shifted uncomfortably. 

“Your Majesty, I have not brought Bilbo to advise you on how to slay dragons, but on how to prevent their arrival because Smaug is coming. Perhaps not any time soon, but the treasure beneath your feet will be far too alluring, I fear.” 

A tense silence fell over the room, and Thorin wanted to shut his eyes against the storm he knew to come. If there was one thing he had learned very well, it was that you did not mention gold in Thror’s presence.

“I see.” Came the unexpectedly calm reply. “You have not brought a dragon expert, but a burglar in my mountain. And use your insane theories of dragons as a front to rob me blind!”

“Your Majesty…” Tharkun began before Thror cut him off, banging his fist on his throne.

“SILENCE!” Thror roared. “I ought to kill you now for such insolence.”

“DO NOT THREATEN ME, THROR SON OF DAIN!” 

Like everyone in the room, Thorin shrunk away from the shadows that manifested outwards from Tharkun. Thrain broke protocol to place himself protectively in front of Thorin, and the guards stepped in front of the royal family. None approached Tharkun as they were quickly reminded the wanderer was in fact a wizard of great power.

“I’m not here to rob you!” Tharkun continued before the shadows suddenly died down, and his expression turned soft. “I’m trying to help you.”

There was no movement that followed as all eyes watched the king to see what he would do next. Thorin’s grandfather looked taut as a rope in a pulley. His eyes narrowed as if weighing his chances against the wizard in battle. Thrain’s hand squeezed Thorin’s arm in a reassuring manner, but his eyes remained on Tharkun just as his war hammer remained in his other hand. Thror finally got up and walked to the edge of the dais using its height to tower over Tharkun.

“Get out of my kingdom. You and your abrâfu shaikmashâz (descendent of rats).”

Tharkun’s chin jutted out proudly at the king’s order. Thorin’s eyes sought out the halfling to see how he would react to the slur. Only, the smaller being was no longer behind Tharkun’s cloak. He seemed to be the only one to realize this as his eyes darted over the chamber before finally landing on the halfling’s form. Thorin made a strangled sound in surprise as he jumped away from the throne. All eyes, including Master Baggins’, fell on Thorin as he merely stared in open mouth shock at the being standing on the king’s throne holding the Arkenstone close to his mouth. Almost as if he were speaking to it though Thorin couldn’t make out the words.

“T-THIEF! H-HOW DARE...AKLÂF MENU (curse you)!” Thror sputtered before coming to life and heaving his sword high above his head to smite the halfling.

Thorin could only watch in horror as Bilbo Baggins, dragon expert and friend of Tharkun, remained resolute in his execution, still whispering to the gem. Just when he was about to be struck down, the halfling’s eyes bore into Thror’s own, stopping Thorin’s grandfather in his tracks. It was as if time had been frozen around them. Thorin felt the itch to take a step forward, but Thrain still had his arm securely wrapped around the other. The guards also seemed uneasy about this strange spell being wove around their king and whether they could interfere. Tharkun only watched on with a narrowed, but unsurprised gaze.

Only a few seconds had passed, though they felt like a lifetime, when the Arkenstone’s light dimmed, and iron clattered against the ground. Thorin looked around wildly, but every adult had dropped their weapons and were staring at each other and the halfling with an awed fascination. Thorin looked up at his father as even he loosened his grip breathing deeply as if it were his first out of a long sleep.

“What did you do?” Thrain murmured softly.

The halfling merely hopped off the stone throne, straightening out his vest and jacket before approaching Thror. The king had sunk to his knees, but his blue eyes, the same eyes Thorin had inherited, looked brighter and troubled all at once.

“This is not a jewel, Your Majesty.” Master Baggins began still looking only at the king as he held out the Arkenstone. “This is a petrified dragon heart.”

Gasps rang throughout the room.

“While not as potent as a real dragon heart, it’s been weaving its spell over you all the same. The effects will lessen, though not disappear completely until it’s destroyed. At the very least, I wouldn’t advise putting it back above your head.” The halfling continued to explain as he shoved the stone into Thror’s hands.

“Don’t dragon spells come from locking gazes with the beast?” Thorin asked curiously.

Master Baggins flinched before turning to Thorin with a hard look. His voice, however, was soft and encouraging.

“No, Your Highness. That’s unfortunately a myth. It’s the heartbeat that lulls you.”

“Yes, but...what did you do?” Thrain repeated again.

“I spoke to it in its language and convinced the heart to sleep. Like I said, not a permanent solution, but I do hope it stops the irrational yelling and weapon drawing.”

Thror and Thrain just stared at him dumbfounded.

“You spoke to it…” Thror repeated.

“I did say our friend here was a dragon expert.” Tharkun used this moment to speak up, surprising many who had seemed to forget he was still there.

Thorin watched the hard glare that passed between the two before Master Baggins walked right past the wizard.

“Right, well, if you need me to silence any other madness-inducing gems, I’ll be down in the market. I’m famished.”

The halfling spun on heel, gave a deep bow to the royals, before disappearing out of the hall before anyone could so much as say a word in protest.

“Now, about Smaug…” Tharkun began.

Thror winced as he slowly pulled himself to his feet. 

“Peace Tharkun, it’s been a rather...eventful morning. If you are willing to wait until tomorrow...Erebor would be proud to host you and Master Baggins.”

Thorin stared at his grandfather in shock before a small smile began to split his face. Could it be? Did Tharkun and Master Baggins truly fix Thror? Tharkun’s approving smile managed to give Thorin hope that they had achieved the impossible.

“As His Majesty wishes.” Tharkun bowed.

Thror looked to be trying hard not to roll his eyes as he stepped out through the side entrance. Thrain immediately followed, dragging Thorin along behind him even as the younger prince turned to wave goodbye to Tharkun. Once they were in the relative privacy of the royal halls, Thror wrapped Thrain up in a hug.

“Makkê, birashagammi (My son, I’m sorry).”

Thrain didn’t say anything in return. Just clutched his father a little tighter and if either of the dwarrows were crying, Thorin pretended not to see. Instead he was practically vibrating in his desire to be dismissed so he could tell Frerin, Narvi, and Falvi. Obviously something as amazing as meeting a dragon expert was too big to keep from his best friends in the whole mountain.

“I have no patience to keep up appearances for the rest of the day. I would like to retire and actually enjoy my family once more.” Thror’s voice brought Thorin back to the present conversation just in time for a large grin to split his face.

He may just get his wish after all.

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

Could you write an imagine/head cannons for claude, felix, linhardt, and ashe where their s/o disappears leaving only a note? Then at some point they return out of nowhere. Thank you so much!

{I want to keep these stagnant and close to cannon(also easy for me to write). So i’m making it as if reader disappears with just a note for the 5yr gap and then they come back for the reunion. Is that okay? I hope it is. If not feel free to submit something more specific for a one-shot}

Claude:

Claude. For the past week I have tried to put my feelings onto paper, but I can’t. All I can say is that I am sorry. To stay here and sit around waiting for politicians to decide my next action...it isn’t wise. It seems our plans for the future have taken a detour haha. Always know that I am with you; that I will be rooting for you no matter where we end up after all of this. I know you can make those dreams of yours a reality. I believe in you. -(Y/N)

  The parchment had lain flat on his desk on top of many other documents. He had almost missed it if not for the familiar handwriting 

 For a moment Claude just sits there. In the chaos of recent events he hadn’t much time to check in with his friends or peers. After the Empire took the monastery, he was forced back to Alliance territory. His people needed him more than ever before. 

He knew that his classmates wouldn’t stick around much longer either. The nobility? Sure, they had to. But people like Raphael or Ignatz were most likely to pursue their own route 

 You weren’t excluded from those thoughts. While not at the top of the list, Claude had suspected that you might leave as well. It was the timing that caught him off guard 

Why not wait and talk it out together? He admits that not every problem is for you both to share, but this? This was personal just as much political.

He never could out-wit you. Even at simple tasks it was like you were always one step ahead. Hard to read, but still honest. He already misses the challenge. 

He will hide the note somewhere in his personal quarters. Where? Who knows. Most likely somewhere no one would ever think to look. 

What’s done is done. Claude won’t try to track you down or let his emotions over cumber him. He understands that while you two were ‘together,’ life has taken a turn for the worst. He believes that you can make your own decisions and turns his attention to fight against invasion

It’s five years later. More of his friends had faded out of the picture and he’s become a symbol of the Alliance. Occasionally word of your whereabouts had popped up in his ranks alongside the regular reports. The same was with all his other friends who had gone to down their own path. For Claude, knowing that you were safe was enough 

Until you appeared at the thieves’ den. Despite how all his deer were ecstatic about seeing each other, all he could think of was the note back in his room 

“I see time has brought us together again my friend. I hope this meeting isn’t purely from luck, we could really use you right about now” 

 Everyone knows that you both were together. Maybe it wasn’t public knowledge, but your quips and flirty jests never went unnoticed. It was obvious he wanted to speak with you alone 

And you do. Claude is understanding and doesn’t question what you’ve been doing while away. All he wants to know is why you didn’t say goodbye in person, and if you were there to stay. That’s it.

He needs his right hand. If you’re there, and with the professor at his side, Claude might just hope to see a happier world. He’s so tired of looking back on the past, and wants to work towards bettering the future.

Felix:

Felix. I can’t stick around twiddling my fingers while Fodlan falls to ruin.You may hate me for this, but I’m prepared for that.We both know your wrath isn’t the worst I’ve seen. Seriously Felix. Be good and don’t kill our friends while I’m away. Stay safe and please refrain from doing anything reckless. You better not roll your eyes at this either, I’ll know...I love you. Take care. -(Y/N)

Ingrid delivered the letter after he was released from guard duty. For a time after the battle Felix joined up with what was left of the Fargeus forces and planned on knocking some sense into their beast of a leader. There was still time to fight back and he’d be damned if they wouldn’t take it. You had joined him eagerly. If anything he expected you to cling annoyingly to his side, just as you always had. He wanted it, really. 

 He won’t say it but the state of the country had shaken him some. He knew that there was a fight awaiting, and knowing that you’d be there gave him extra motivation to press on. 

So the sight of your special seal on the envelope made him smirk. He assumed that sending a letter was your way of butting into his feelings, just like you always did. Ingrid even handed it off with a smile. 

He wasn’t expecting a goodbye 

 How...how dare you spring this on him? Leaving in the middle of a war?With that boar on the loose. When you’re needed the most?! All because you were impatient?! 

 “That idiot! What do they think they’re do- When did you get this? Do not test me right now Ingrid, I need to hurry” 

He crumples up the letter in his fist and marches off to find you. He searches the entire compound/camp until he’s forced to give up. There was enough trouble already and he was wasting time.

 Needless to say that he’s furious. So much that he rips the note to pieces and tosses it into the fire. It was in the moment...and he regrets it. Those could have been your last words.

Felix blames you for many things beyond that day. Deep down he knows that Fargeus’ loss isn’t your fault, that Dimitri wouldn’t have died if you stayed, that his old man would be just as burdened...

yet he can’t help but use you as a scapegoat. It’s easy for him to hate you when you’re not there to correct him. It’s easy to despise someone who can’t fight back, or is dead. 

Over time the hurt fades to a light burn in his chest, haunting him at night or in his darkest moments. It will appear like a punch in the gut, and linger like the sting of a paper cut. All that pain tied to your name. 

 When he sees Dimitri alive with the professor, Felix is stunned. There might be a chance at regaining his home. Then he scans the group over.

 When he sees you, the pain flares up worse than any blade from the prior battle. Instantly he barrels through the other lions seething with anger and ready to give you hell.

Only to stop when you look his way. With harsh breaths, brows drawn in,and fingernails digging themselves into his palms; he just stands there trembling with raw hatred. No. Not hatred...there’s so much more going on. 

 He watches your lips move yet doesn’t hear any of it. He wants to blame you for everything, but can’t. 

and so he doesn’t. He turns away and stomps off to greet his old professor, and leaves the others to fill you in on the situation It works, and for some time you two don’t speak. He lets the feelings of betrayal fester until one night he forces his way into your room.

“You. Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through. What kind of stupid thoughts were you thinking?! A note? Did you seriously think a note would be enough?” 

Ashe:

Ashe. Before I say anything more, please don’t freak out! I know it looks like i’m going awol but I have to do this. I’m not abandoning you, or our friends, or our home; I can’t explain much but know that this is what’s best at least what I hope is best. I love you so, so much. Just trust me on this. It wasn’t an easy choice and you have every right to be upset with me. Heck, even i’m upset with myself for leaving like this. I wish I could take you with me, but you have a role to follow here. Go be the best dang knight I know you’re capable of being. May the goddess keep you safe and sound my love. -(Y/N)

Love letters weren’t your thing. He was always the hopeless romantic and you’d never do something so “sappy”. The letter lain on his cot scared him, but he still opened it. 

He doesn’t know how to feel. Ashe thought that the situation couldn’t become worse, that Fodlan had already been drained of all peace. His home was gone,his father dead, his family’s situation unknown, country in ruins, and the loss of the professor was the topper on the cake. Somehow through it all he still continued to look forward, because he had to. If he gave up, then what? What would he do? 

He had dreams. To become a knight, live out his days serving the people, care for his siblings...and recently a new one tallied onto that list. On nights that his books didn’t put him to sleep he would dream of a family. One of his own, with you. It gave him a goal to look towards when he felt displaced among his peers. 

 He cries after finishing the letter. Ashe doesn’t bother holding anything back as he clutches the note to his forehead to cover his face. Through blurred vision he watches tears smear the ink and panics. He sets it aside on his pillow to protect what’s still in tact. 

“Why? I would have understood. We could have gone together...”

 Which is exactly why you left a note. Ashe knows that you hate to see him upset. After Lanato you would seldom go a day without checking on him...you wouldn’t be able to say no to bringing him. 

Ashe could never convince himself to hate you, and would tell off anyone who even thought of calling you a traitor. To be a knight now had a new meaning to him, it was more than the armor and title . When Fargeus fell he took the future into his own hands and left to join whatever resistance remained. He worked to help those in need, and not once did a day go by where he didn’t think of you. 

Even through all the chaos Ashe worries about the people he cares about. As a student he would think of his siblings, and now he thought of you. 

The hardest part was adapting to being alone...and keeping faith. It’s difficult to convince yourself that everything is okay when it isn’t

There’s a reason Ashe doesn’t frequently talk of his actions amidst those five years. He has done things he is not proud of, and experienced sensations he wouldn’t wish on anyone 

He approached the monestary with little hope of anyone else showing. Only when Gilbert appeared did Ashe become lively. When he saw his highness’ with the professor he was ecstatic...then you appeared 

  and he felt his heart shatter. The arrows knocked themselves as he pushed through to your position on the field. He becomes a bit too overtaken from adrenaline 

“(Y/N)! Y-you’re...you’re alive! Where have you been?!” *que almost being beheaded by an axe*   “ O-oh! Right. Not the time, let’s finish this!”

 Once settled in the monestary again you can find him in his room, looking over the old letter. He’ll wave it in your face with tears pricking his eyes. Ashe isn’t angry in the slightest but all those feelings of abandonment from the day you left resurfaced like new. 

“When you left... I realized that nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.” 

Linhardt:

Lin. I’m certain you already know what I have to say. I won’t ask you to wait for me or give an empty apology. What i’m doing is selfish and I don’t hold any expectations for forgiveness. Albeit I do trust that you will live through this. You’re a tough guy whether you’ll admit to it or not; don’t let your inner sloth dominate over your responsibilities. I know you’ll do the right thing. -(Y/N)

 Linhardt isn’t surprised in the slightest. He admits to not being the most involved boyfriend, but he knew you well. Perhaps more than you know yourself. 

Contrary to everyone else seeing you two as a love-hate partnership, it was far more complex. You’re much more than a personal alarm clock to Linhardt and even in his more infuriating moments(*cough* drifting off during your dates *cough*)you always have his attention 

“*sigh*...and there they go again. Leaving me to clean up their mess”

 He predicted everything down to the last letter. From the moment you both relocated he could see that you were uncomfortable. Signing up for schooling did not equal agreeing to a draft. Linhardt observed the struggle but remained patient for you to approach him. While normally invasive he also respected your boundaries. There were other pressing matters to attend to in addition to both your personal issues. 

He had been delegated to return home until further notice. It didn’t take much to piece together why you had left. With him gone there was no reason to remain, not with the army in its current state. Not when you could possibly be used as leverage or forced to fight on Edelgard’s side. 

 He was smart enough to realize it was only a temporary farewell. 

Linhardt speaks of your departure to no one, and comes up with a stable alibi for when asked.To help indirectly, he tries to stall your missing status report for as long as possible. Your rashness didn’t give much leeway to get the story straight but he managed. It was a bit too troublesome for his liking though. 

 Troublesome, but worth it. You left unscathed and with the only evidence being his letter. Linhardt considered burning it; it was the logical solution after all. You probably expected him to do so after piecing together your coded message. 

 It stays with him, folded up and used as a bookmark for his personal tomes. It is always by his side for safe keeping.

When the reunion day draws near he departs from the estate, only taking his research and some valuables. He may not have foreseen to find the professor or the church duo, but you were anticipated. 

“Well, look who it is. A runaway returned I trust?” 

There is no animosity or sense of tension. He’s just as sassy and you bargained for no less. Like stated before, you both know each other well. He might comment on how you’ve changed or test your knowledge. You know, see if “you’ve slacked off” even though everyone knows he’s far more lax. 

Don’t be fooled though. He may have helped because it was the easiest course of action, but do not expect to pull a stunt like that again. He refuses to wait another five years for a life of peaceful retirement. This is going to end soon so be prepared to act as his stressed out lab assistant again 

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (2)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Nothing is more pleasant than silence when you sleep, isn’t it? The sweet sound of silence...Until some idiot has the good idea to use his car horn. Danny Johnson groaned putting his pillow on his head in vain to mitigate the noise. He looked over to his alarm clock that read 8:11 am. Well, a good sleep to start the day.  

Fortunately for him, he’s got his day off just yesterday so he slept more than usual. He gets out of his bed, raises his arms in the air and stretches until he feels his back muscles crack. Then he does the first thing he do every morning: take a shower. He walks to the bathroom, turned the shower on, undressed and climbed in. The contact with the water made him shudder a little, but he gradually got used to it. Leaning his head back, a grin appears on his face. He remembers about his last victim, Travis Maloney, who he must admit it, wasn’t so easy to kill as he believed.

Travis was an American football player, often spending time in arcades, fast foods, gyms and parks than in class. But when it’s about American football or movies, Travis was unbeatable. Danny stalked him for about an entirely month before taking action. What a coincidence it was for Travis to meet Danny, or as everyone else knew him, Jed Olsen, who had a film culture as strong as him. It was risky for Danny to get so close to Travis, but luck smiles on the bold, isn't it? Befriending this young man was a breeze for Danny allowing him to study his home in order to better strike. And when the time comes that night… Damn it was so delicious, so satisfying. A real pleasure of blood and tears.

Of course, Travis tried to wrestle with his athletic muscles, but Danny was more agile than he was, even though he still managed to hit him in the stomach. What a lovely sound he makes when Danny planted his knife in his back multiple times before turning him like a vulgar piece of meat to pierce his belly like a balloon and finish him by slit his throat with a sharp and precise blow. After taking pictures and making sure he had left no physical evidence of his presence, Danny escaped through the same window where he entered.  

Danny came out of the shower after several minutes and dressed. A white shirt covered with a grey jogging jacket, blue jean and black shoes. He looks his reflection in the mirror thinking about all those men who dyed their head. Seriously why they do that? Just for being more attractive or hide their true hair color ? Foolish idea.  

Natural beauty is better than artificial and Danny was the best example he knows. He knows that he can seduce any girl with just a glance as himself or Jed. He styled his hair in a ponytail and put his glasses on. It’s time for him to be Jed Olsen, reporter of Roseville’s gazette, kind colleague and friend. He takes his bag and leave his home. But lost in his thoughts, he’s bumping into someone...and it was you.

“Oops. Well looks like It's my fault this time. Sorry. Nothing broken?” he said with a little smile.

“No worries, everything is fine!  Almost everything...” you said a little disappointed.

“Why? What happen?”

“Well, I’ve to receive a delivery of Colombian coffee beans for my coffee shop today but...There's been a problem and I won't get it until tomorrow. So, I won't be able to officially open until Friday. I have a little more time to organize everything at least.”  

Jed patted your shoulder to comfort you while Danny held back from not smiling. He's keeping that information in his memory for later. Maybe Ghostface will go for a little tour to get to know the place...Just in case.

“oh...It’s bad luck. You own a coffee shop?” Said ‘Jed’ interested.

“Yup! It's not far from here! Two blocks away instead of Joe's old dinner. I finally fulfil one of my dreams. If it works of course. Because in this kind of business, it passes or it breaks from the opening. But I'm confident about it! And at least it will always give me a good experience.” You said full of determination.  

“I hope it will work for you. Joe’s old dinner you said? Roseville’s Gazette building is further, at the end of the street. I think I'd come often if you make good coffee. Between us, Joe's coffee was really disgusting. A mixture of shoe juice and rotten egg.”

“Eww...Gross. Don’t worry, my coffee won't be a horrible mix to make you sick, neither do my pastries. I got to go. I have to finish two or three things for the grand opening.”  

“I can take you if you want. It's on my way. This will save you from wasting gas.”  

“That really nice of you Jed...But I don’t to bother you and make you arrive late at your job. I'll feel guilty if you get yelled at by your boss because of me.” you respond embarrassed.

“I wouldn't offer it to you if it bothered me. And then if I get yelled at... You'll owe me a cup of coffee and a pastry.” He laughs advancing towards the entrance to get out with you walking behind his heels.

Danny walked to the van parked at his location and unlocked the doors. If Jed laughs a little for having a van, Danny would have liked to drive a slightly more comfortable car. But hey when you are a journalist and you have to go a little far, you have to be able to sleep on the spot to get interesting information. he opened the passenger door so that you could get into the vehicle, from the corner of his eye he noticed that his gesture did not leave you indifferent and that made him smile. One thing he had in common with his alter ego Jed was gallantry, even though the motivations were different. Jed was in order to be polite to everyone, Danny was in order to approach his victims and learn a little more about them. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Devil in disguise.

He went up on his side, put his bag in the back and started the engine before heading towards the coffee.

“So... What convinced you to come and live here? I would have thought that you would go more to open a business in a big city rather than here” Said Danny  

“Well, I wanted to change the landscape. I was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana. I was tired of the big cities where the buildings are as big as mountains and where privacy is hardly respected. Roseville have that charming and welcoming little side that I like. How about you? Did you grow up here?” you said with a smile  

“No, I'm a pure Florida boy, I came here for the same reasons. And by being a reporter, I often had to change places to report what’s happening in the towns and villages of our dear country. I can't even remember how many times I moved since I started this job.”

“You see things, I guess. it doesn't have to be easy every day to be a reporter...”

“oh no I can confirm that. Cases of fraud, murder, corrupt politicians... We don't just make friends in this business. But I must admit that all this is nothing compared to what happens here with Ghostface. it's scary to know that a monster like him is lurking in the wild. All his victims ended up in states... I wish I could erase that from my memory” said ‘Jed’ disgusted while Danny holds back from smiling as he remembered his bloody masterpieces.

“I suspect it wasn't supposed to be beautiful to see. I read your last article it's really impressive, you know? it's almost the only thing I'd read from the paper.” You say before you see the storefront of your business.

Danny parked in front of the shop. At least we know the theme and atmosphere of your cafe. And it would be hard not to spot it with this particular blue that stands out more compared to the colors of the other shops. at first glance, no security camera but better be careful.

“thanks again for the ride Jed. You're such a sweet I don't know how to thank you.” you said with a sweet smile

“Well to be able to taste your coffee and your sweets will be more than enough for me. And don't forget, if I get yelled at...” reply Danny giving you a wink.

“Ha ha you don't lose the north you! Promised a coffee and a pastry offered by the house. See ya !” you said before leaving.

“...She’s prettier than the last tenant at least. Much prettier and innocent...”

Danny smiles before he gets back on the road to work. So, you read his articles? And besides, you love them. A smile made his way on his face, he feels flattered to see how much you appreciate his work. Jed's work instead. he arrived on time in front of the newspaper building, taking his bag before entering, passing through the security pole and climbing the stairs leading to the offices. While some colleagues were writing their articles for the next edition, others were chatting quietly over coffee. Danny put his bag at the foot of the office and went for a coffee just to wake up a little.

“Hey Jed! So, this day off? Tell me you've actually rested and not worked over and over again like you do.” said Melina tapping on Jed's shoulder.  

Melina was the first to welcome 'Jed' into the team with Mattew. Even though Jed was the quietest and shyest of the three, as soon as they were together it was a real mess. But at least they were setting the mood in the offices. But in meetings, they are the most serious group.  

“ha ha promised this time I rested. I know how you're reacting if I don't listen to you on this.” He laughs

“You'd better do it, yes! otherwise I swear your hair will change color. Although I might do it on Mike. What an asshole. Sir thinks he's the best reporter in the world when clearly you're much superior!”

“I'm just doing my job, you know. Nothing more than nothing less.”

“Hey Jed! The boss wants to see you in his office!” shouts Mattew by heading towards them.

“Already? It must be important then. Hoping I'm going to get my straps up. Usually when he wants to see someone so early in the day... See you later guys." Said Danny before leaving

“Do you think it's serious?” said Melina

“Well, the boss looked pretty happy when I told him Jed had arrived.” respond Mattew.

Danny walked towards the office of the director, Johann Hembrook. This man, in his fifties, had been practicing journalism for 33 years. He had covered some of them as scandalous as each other and had decided to open his own gazette here in Roseville. Over time it became practically the only source of paper information in the city and then came the technology. But that didn't stop the newspaper from continuing to prosper. Through the door, Danny could hear a conversation that seemed to end and recognized the voice of Mike, his 'rival' since his arrival.

Mike Harris joined the team five years before 'Jed'. His pretensive side makes him take all the others for little sandbox journalists boasting himself to be the best ,even if it is true that he does a very good job, but not to the point of claiming this title. He hates Jed since he arrived and it didn't arrange when he saw this newbie see himself in charge of the articles on Ghostface. It must have been him and not a novice junk.

If Jed didn't react to him, Danny wanted only one thing: slit his throat. Slowly... Make him suffer as much as possible to make him beg. Oh God it would be divine …

“Get the f*** out of my way Olsen. I don't want to throw up when I see your nerd face early in the morning.” Mike grunts as he shoves Danny to pass.  

Danny breathed deeply, holding back from planting a pen in his throat and knocked on the manager's door before entering.

“You wanted to see me Sir?” He said with a smile.  

“Ah Here's the best reporter in Roseville! Yes, come in Jed. I want to talk. Please take a sit.” said Mr Hembrook offering a seat. “I want to congratulate you again on your last article. It's impressive for a young man like you to write an article of this quality. How old are you already?”

“27 Sir. I’m glad to know that you liked my articles but I'm just doing my job, sir. Just like the others here.”

“And modest with that. However, the police disagree. They'd like you to talk less about these murders. They think you're too involved in their business. You know how cops are with us, they think we're dirty little snoops.”  

“If no one reports the facts who will take care of it? Them? Just to say that someone is dead. People want to know what is going on in their city and it is our duty to keep them informed down to the smallest detail.”

“That's exactly what I told them. You remind me of me at your age. Shyer that said. You have free hand for your next article. If you have any ideas...I know I'd never be disappointed with you.”

Danny smiles before gets up and leaves the office. He already knows what he's going to write in his next article. sometimes you have to put aside the negatives and take care of what is developing in the city. Like your coffee, for example. He passed all morning thinking and writing his article but little problem: without knowing the name or the owner of the café, people will not rush. He took his bag and left the offices to join his vehicle in the parking lot and then set me on. once he reached his destination, he went down and arrived at the door, he tossed what startled you. after all you're not supposed to be open today.

“Well, eager to see me again?” you laugh.

“I'm coming as a reporter this time, and I thought you might get a little advertisement in our newspaper. It always helps.” said Danny with a wink.  

After you allowed him in, Danny sat down with you at a table and started asking questions for his article. He kindly accepted a cup of coffee with a slice of blueberry pie and checked every piece of information. He took out his camera and took a picture of you and the café to illustrate his article.

“Only for my article. promised I delete the photo once the newspaper is published.” Lied Danny. What do you think? Of course, he will keep it for him once the newspaper published! “There's only one question left on your café : What's his name?”

"Well... I've been thinking about it all night and all morning and I think I'm sure of my choice. I'm going to call it...”

***

(Hey! Finally finish this one! I'm so happy to see that you like the first chapter! thanks a lot! Don't hesitate to give me your opinions and ask questions if the heart tells you! Once again, thank you very much, I hope that you’ll like this chapter as much as the first! See ya guys!)  

[jaeminlore]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas | Jaehyun

summary: you can count on me

words: 2.2k+

category: jaehyun x gender neutral reader unless i slipped up, in which pls tell me so i can fix it, coworker au, fake dating au, fluff, jaehyun wears sweaters, pillow fights, mistletoe (but not in the way you’d expect), jaehyun sees reader holding a baby and short circuits, this is the softest thing i’ve ever written and i’m proud of it

warning(s): christmas is explicitly mentioned as opposed to any other holiday, this is based off of a more southern/american style christmas that i’m used to, some drinking but no one gets drunk

When your co-worker, Jaehyun, approaches you a day before winter break, you think little of it. The two of you are the only teachers in the school less than forty years old, so you often hang out together.

You figure he'll wish you a gentle happy holidays in that soft voice of his, and be on his way.

Instead, he looks nervous, wringing his beanie through his fingers. "Heading out?"

"Yeah," you sigh. "Two full weeks of no pay, and all of my family has planned a Christmas in the Bahamas without me."

Jaehyun whistles lowly. "That sounds a bit..."

"Sad?" you stuff your books into your box. "Yeah, but it's whatever. I'll find something to do."

"You could come home with me," Jaehyun says. "I mean, my family thought I was bringing a significant other anyway, so it kind of works out."

"Huh?" You glance up at the fellow teacher in his stupid teddy bear cardigan. It makes him look soft and cozy. "What works out?"

"I need you to pretend to be dating me during break."

"Why?" you ask. The only reason you aren't more surprised is the fact that Jaehyun is always using weird anecdotes to get out of things, and you assume this is nothing different.

"Like I said, my parents think I'm bring home a significant other."

"Why don't you just tell them you don't have one?" you ask.

Jaehyun pokes at the miniature globe on your desk. "If I told them that, they'd try to hook me up with one of their picks. Listen, when I lied to them, I didn't think they'd insist I bring my significant other to family functions."

"That's kind of what happens when you're dating someone," you say. "Anyways, so what? I pretend to be dating you, and in return I get free food and board for the holidays?"

"My mom will buy you a present," Jaehyun adds on.

You hand Jaehyun your box of things you have to take home during break. "Here. Carry this to my car, and you have a deal."

(It's only on the way to his parent's house when you realize that you might have to buy all of his family presents, too. When you voice these concerns to Jaehyun, he reaches over the console and pats your knee. "Not to worry. I just put our names on everything.")

-

Jaehyun's mother's hugs are a lot like Jaehyun's. She squeezes you tightly, as if she's a boa constrictor and you are merely the innocent prey.

Jaehyun doesn't save you either, he just giggles at your disheveled  appearance and fixes your hair. "Mom likes hugs."

"Oh, so do you," Mrs. Jung swats at Jaehyun's arm. "Anyways, tell me about the two of you."

"Oh!" You clear your throat and move closer to Jaehyun. You actually have no idea what he's told them about you, and you also didn't make up a cover story, so you're a bit out of luck.

Luckily, Jaehyun lies like a politician. He wraps his arm around your waist and laughs. It's fake, you know, but his mom seems to believe it. "We're at the same school, mom. I've told you about Y/n before."

"Oh! The third grade teacher?" Mrs. Jung finally makes the connection. She turns to you. "He used to gush about you all the time. I never realized you're the one he asked out."

Jaehyun's grip on you tightens just briefly, so you figure Mrs. Jung has said just a bit too much. Still, you have to play into the facade, so you lean into him. "I gushed about him a fair bit, too. And then one night I asked him out, and he said yes."

"Oh, you asked him out?" Mrs. Jung's eyes sparkle with interest. She has the same adorable dimples as her son.

"Only because he was too cowardly to do anything about his massive crush on me."

Jaehyun snorts. "Yeah, right. We both know I'm braver than you."

You turn to face him, eyes narrowed as he steels you with his cocky gaze. "Oh yeah?" You say, eyes drifting down to his lips, curled into an attractive smirk. "Prove it."

You see the moment Jaehyun short circuits. You see it as clear as day, the way he loosens his grip and opens his mouth, but no words come out.

His mom snickers. "I think Y/n is braver, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun can only sulk as he shows you to his room.

-

Mrs. Jung told you to take a nap to recover from the traveling, since the actually holiday festivities don't begin until everyone arrives tomorrow. Since you and Jaehyun are early, you get the privilege of extra sleep.

Jaehyun eyes his full-sized bed from his college days. His room is now a guest room, since he hasn't lived at home in years. But it's still got traces of him in it, like the baseball trophies from college (you try not to think of Jaehyun in a baseball uniform), or his high school diploma framed over the bathroom door.

You pull back the green-striped sheets. "I am not going to disobey your mom. I'm going to sleep."

"Ditto," Jaehyun says. He heads over to the window and drops the drapes so that the room is coated in darkness despite the afternoon sun still outside. "I'll take the floor."

"Why?" You ask, and you're already burrowed under his covers in your lounge-wear.

Jaehyun's eyes drop to your thin tank top before he looks away. His ears are a suspicious shade of pink. "I mean... wouldn't it be weird to share a bed?"

"Are you going to pull a move on me while I'm trying to sleep?" Your blunt question sends Jaehyun into a fit of coughing, which causes you to laugh out loud.

He glares at you and shuffles over to the other side of his bed. "I hate you."

"You can't hate me; you're my boyfriend," you mock.

Jaehyun tackles you then, covering your body with his own as you giggle in shock. "You're so annoying. I should've taken someone else."

"Right," you fight back, grabbing his arms and pushing him up until he's just straddling your waist, holding onto your hands. "Who would you ask? Meredith, the secretary?"

"Her red hair is pretty sexy," Jaehyun says as if HES thought about it before."

"She's like, fifty," you laugh.

"Or Taeyong from high school math," Jaehyun says. "He's cute."

"Honestly? Yeah." You let go of his hands and glance up at the ceiling. "If Taeyong had asked me, this entire day would've gone so differently."

"Oh, shut up," Jaehyun grabs his pillow and gently shoves you with it. "You can't even look him in the eyes."

"Neither can you!" You protest, voice muffled beneath his pillow.

"It's not my fault he's cute!"

"It's not my fault either!"

Jaehyun lifts the pillow and raises his eyebrows at you, causing you to laugh.

"Are we arguing over Taeyong from high school math?"

"Who doesn't even know we exist?" Jaehyun answers. "Yes, I do believe we are."

"You're heavy," you grunt. You attempt to push Jaehyun off of you, but in seeing your discomfort, it only spurs him to place his full dead weight on top of you.

"Goodnight," he says, voice right beside your ear.

You know he's teasing you, because the two of you are pretty close and it's not weird. Still, you can't help but like the feeling of him being so close to you, even if it isn't as intimate as you'd like.

You sigh; give up. "Goodnight, Jaehyun."

-

Jaehyun's family is wild. His uncle (from England, apparently) brings stories about his weekly bar crawls. He also brings Christmas crackers, and you and Jaehyun steal a few extra when no one is looking, if just to get a few extra goodies.

And so explains the paper crown atop Jaehyun's head, nestled within his chocolate curls.

He looks adorable as always, but more radiantly so, and you wonder if it's his family that brings this out in him, or the mulled wine.

I want to kiss him, you think, and it's not the thought that scares you. He's an attractive man, and it's been bound to cross your every now and again.

What scares you is the thought that comes after. I could fall in love with him.

And you really aren't sure if it's the wine in your own belly, or the disorienting sound of Mrs. Jung's staticky radio, playing a distorted version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

However, Jaehyun has been holding your hand the entire day, absentminded rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. It shouldn't make your heart beat faster because it's all a show, but you find yourself playing into the facade, if just to make it last a little longer.

Jaehyun and you are sharing an armchair while the children beg the adults to let them open their gifts already. You've got your head on Jaehyun's chest, and he's covering you with a gaudy reindeer-themed blanket.

It's then when the door opens, and a woman and man walk in, the man holding a baby in his arms.

"Jina!" Jaehyun shouts. "Henry! Erin!" Then he whispers to you. "That's my sister and her husband. And their little baby," he says softly.

Erin is around one or two years old, and she seems in good spirits despite the bow tightly clipped to what little hair she has.

You get up so Jaehyun can hug his sister, and when she sees you, she gives you a hug as well. "You're the Y/n Jaehyun has told me so much about."

Jaehyun's ears go red again, and he ignores Jina's statement in lue of showing her to the presents around the tree. "Thank God you're finally here. I think the kids were going to riot if they couldn't open any presents yet."

Jaehyun settles back down with you, and you remind yourself to ask him why his family seem to already know about you.

But then the kids open whoopee cushions from Uncle Jaehyun, and all is forgotten as they begin to force everyone to sit on top of them.

-

Jaehyun truly thinks he's going to go insane. In retrospect, perhaps asking the person he's had a year-long crush on to be his fake date wasn't the best idea, but it was his only option.

And now he likes you even more, as you make an effort to get to know his family.

You don't have to, but you're wearing the sweater his mom bought for you, and you've got a stupid paper crown on your head that perfectly matches his.

And when Jaehyun rounds the counter to make some hit chocolate for the two of you, he watches you approach his brother-in-law and ask to hold baby Erin.

And now Jaehyun is truly going crazy, because you've got a baby on your hip and you're dancing to the staticky radio, singing in goofy voices with Jaehyun's younger cousins.

And he knows, knows he's in love with you.

He hopes to God this isn't a one time thing.

-

Your head feels a bit fuzzy when everyone is sent off to bed.

Jaehyun grabs your hand and pulls you into his room. "Come on. Anyone who survives a day with my family deserves a prize."

You're not sure where he had hidden it, but Jaehyun grabs a small wrapped box and hands it to you. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," you say, a bit distracted as you open it.

Inside, it's a small charm bracelet. The charm? Mistletoe.

You snort, and pull the bracelet over your wrist. "How subtle, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun's ears are red again. "Actually, I was just teaching my kids about mistletoe. The druids believed it had healing properties, and could bring the holder good luck—"

You wrap your arms around Jaehyun's shoulders and lift your hand above his head. You kiss Jaehyun before he's finished talking.

He gasps against your lips in such an innocent way that you have to wonder if he actually didn't mean to give it to you as incentive. Before you can worry, however, he's got his hands bunched in the sweater his mother bought you, and he's pulling you flush against his body.

His lips are soft and warm, and they taste like cinnamon. Every touch he gives you sends a lick of fire across your skin, and it's only when Jaehyun puts his hands beneath your sweater that you realize just how cold his hands are.

You shiver against him. He nips at your lips, smiling at your offended gasp. He moves away, places one kiss atop your forehead, and then presses his forehead to yours. "I didn't give you the mistletoe so you would kiss me, but I'm glad you did."

"Me too," you say, warmth flooding your chest again. "Now, how about you explain to me why your family keeps saying you've talked about me before."

"Actually," Jaehyun moves away from you. "I'm pretty tired, so we should just get to bed."

You tackle him again, laughing with mirth when he catches you and hugs you close to him. "I've liked you for awhile, okay?" he says.

"Now was that so hard to say?" you tease, just before receiving another pillow to your face.

[metanoiamorii]

❛I need you to promise me that you won't tell anyone. You're the only one who knows. I know I should tell them, but what would I say? If they knew, they'd look at me differently, they'd be afraid. So now that you know, when you look at me, what do you see? Do you see this face? Or the one covered in blood? Can you forget it? I can't. That's why we keep secrets, because the truth changes everything. I need you to tell me if there will ever be a time when I close my eyes and I don't see it? When will it stop?❜

♧ Title: A Rope In Hand [ARIH]

♧ Status: Brainstorming & Drafting

♧ Point of View: Third Person, active, I'm going to try actively doing limited so this will be a challenge

♧ Genre: Fantasy, Drama, Supernatural Elements, a dabble of romance

♧ Warnings: Torture, cults, witch-hunts, The use of religious beliefs to commit atrocities, generational curses, witch trials, deaths, tragic endings, violence, gore, star crossed lovers, forbidden romance, toxic and abusive parental relationships, homophobia; there's probably plenty I'm missing.

♧ Featuring: Diverse LGBTQ+ characters, complex and complicated relationships, homoromantic main relationship, morally grey characters, complex world building, slow-burn relationships, plenty of symbolism, witches, fantasy religions, soulmate trope, unlearning toxic beliefs

♧ Setting: A fantasy West European setting, specifically Britain and Ireland inspired, with a possible mention of a few others.

♧ Tease: In a town of gods fearing people, the only thing left to do is kneel and pray. Plagued by the liars, thieves and killers. Controlled by crooked politicians and preachers. The gods are shaking their heads, turning away from this town absorbed in sin. Can it be saved? Can the plague be ridden? No. The true question is.. Does it deserve saving?

♧ Synopsis:

In the town of Arkaley, in the northwest of the Duchy of Ruairc, the people have been plagued by bad fortune and crime. Attacks of bandits on the road, raids from pirates on the shores, untimely deaths of children and young women, elected officials coming out corrupt; there is no end in Arkaley of the suffering the locals endure. 

Rationally, to explain such a bad string of luck, there is only one possible explanation: Witchcraft. 

The Duchy of Ruairc already has a history of witchcraft: the Ó Ruaircs turned out to be witches, the Abondé incident in Salem, the Liathain incident in Trakee; the Ruaircs have their record. Perfectly acceptable for everyone to assume the worse of the Ruairish, as they have proved to be nothing but.

To prove his worth, the young Reverend Prudence Clemency Frye, takes up the task of quelling this coven of witches and heading this witch-hunt. Young and naïve, witch only knowledge from books and little hands on experience, he’s unprepared for this challenge. When he finally leaves the town, well... everyone would rather put this incident behind them.

♧ Excerpt

"— But should the people not question who you are?!"

Any words to be spoken were cut off by the click of heels over the smooth wooden floor and the raised voice. All eyes turned to the only one that would have the nerve to interrupt the sermon in process. Some looks of awe. Some of sudden respect. Some from annoyance.

None of them mattered, not to Prudence. He kept hold of the neck of the bottle in one hand and strode forward. He had been drinking since last night, it was a miracle he managed not to stagger in his steps. He could see the annoyance building up behind his father's eyes, at his sudden appearance— at the disrespect he was showing.

Who was he to care?

For once in his life, he felt no fear towards this man.

Prudence only stopped when he stood by one of the pews he walked passed, mere feet from where his father stood. The hand unoccupied with the bottle raised to gesture to the man. He remained quiet, pointing to his father, before he scoffed and waved his finger.

On his heels, he spun back around, to face the people; a scowl of his own finding his features, accompanied by a bitter tone to his voice. ".... For who else would the Devil appear but in disguise of our Maker?"

♧ Characters: There is a full cast of characters, I have separated them into a few categories to help with organization: You will find in order, witch-hunters, and then the coven of witches

━━━━━━━━━━

♧ Prudence Clemency Frye; The Reverend Intersex • Genderfluid • He/They • Homosexual • Homo-demiromantic

The bastard son of Lord Zachariah Frye. Raised by his father, with his mother dying young, he took to following in his footsteps. He became a religious young man and an active witch-hunter. A part of him desires his father’s acceptance, his praises; the other part despises his father and everything the man stands for. In recent years, he has joined the De La Cruz household, becoming an apprentice beneath the famous Witch’s Advocate; upholding the beliefs that not every witch is evil and has foul intentions, and the ones that mean harm are the only ones that should be hunted.

♧ Zachariah Frye; The Bloodhound Male • He/Him • Heterosexual • Aromantic

The oldest living member of the Order. Now he is the man that holds the face of the Order, who you think of when they come to mind. Cold. Vindictive. Despotic. Violent. He is not a good man. He is firm in his beliefs and stubborn to change. Once his mind is made up, he cannot be reasoned with. He is blindly convinced of his beliefs and his cause to eradicate every living witch, unfazed if he has to fill a few innocent thousands in the process. 

♧ Calisto Ferzan Hermengildo Melchior Lorencio De La Cruz; The Witch's Advocate Amab • Genderfluid • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

A witch-hunter in title alone, Calisto has been making enemies since he could first talk. He's always enjoyed being the underdog, going against the expectations of society, being ridiculed by his peers. The sole reason? Proving them wrong. To ridicule his own peers for their outdated beliefs, he's taken to defending witches, proving them innocent of their 'crimes', and going on to help them to set up a life in a country more accepting of witchcraft.

♧ Myk'loumihr [Michelotto Dougal] Siavash; The Man-Servant Amab • Agender • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The servant of Calisto, never seen far from his side. He is servant in name alone, and is more-or-less an assassin, a hitman for Calisto. Held in contempt by Athylian society for being a foreigner, he often treated by others more as a slave than a servant. To help be unseen, to help the De La Cruz Household, Michelotto endures the treatment, and goes as far to be perceived as ignorant, alongside him being born a mute. Keeping his true intents and intelligence duly guarded, only a handful are aware he is also a witch. 

━━━━━━━━━━

♧ Karayan [Ianira] Than Blackburn; The Dark Devourer Intersex • Genderfluid • He/They • Pansexual • Grey-Aromantic

An ancient witch that has adopted several identities over the years, his current one being Lord Blackburn, a member of Athylian parliament. A high member of society, he keeps his identity a secret, as he never slips what his true intentions are. God-touched from a young age, he acts on behalf of his deity, adopting their identity and all. To appease his deity, he has begun supplying assistance and guidance to the coven of Arkaley, using them to fulfil his own personal agenda. He prefers to stay behind letters, using a servant to relay his order and acting as his envoy to the coven.

♧ Anisha Kaur; The Servant Afab • Demigirl • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The acting servant of Barion, Anisha’s true loyalties lie with Ianira. She stays within the town, serving the coven, while acting as his eyes and ears. She is the one to relay information and letters between the coven and Ianira.  She is a quiet woman, that keeps her head down and her mind to herself. She only shows her true, confident and demanding, nature behind closed doors with the coven when they dare to question her.

♧ Dairine Ó Séaghdha; The Crone Afab • Agender • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The oldest member of the coven, Dairine lives under the guise of an elderly woman, who lives alone with her children and grandchildren already leaving her to live their own lives. She is a kind and understanding woman, and cares for the younger witches in the coven. She will not support Baríon with her agenda, nor does she care for the servant girl, she even despises the so-called ally Baríon claims to have and who they all adhere to.

♧ Baríon Nolc Baoghal; The Town’s Head Female • She/Her • Bisexual • Aromantic

The woman in charge of the town, widowed and inheriting the right to rule as her husband had no heirs. She is a manipulative and dangerous woman, eager to commit any sin or crime for more power. She, in truth, cares only for herself and would feel no remorse if she had to turn on one of her coven to further her own agenda. 

♧ Leary O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate Male • He/Him • Heterosexual • Aromantic

The magistrate and also the chief policeman of the town. He maintains a  calm, but manipulative personality. As a front he presents himself to be fair and just, liked and favored by the people for genuinely caring for them. While in truth he has his own heinous and sinister agenda, aiding Baríon in her plans. 

♧ Abban MacClery; The Minister Male • He/Him • Asexual • Aromantic

The town’s minister. Abban only stepped into the role to further secure power within the town for the coven. Personally, he cares little for religion. He prefers to indulge himself however he likes: booze, sex, fighting; you name it. He isn’t your ideal minister, but the towns-people never speak against him. 

♧ Ceann Ó Buachalla; The Baker Female • She/Her • Bisexual • Demiromantic

The town’s baker, she owns a small family business that functions as a small café. She keeps to herself and stays out of the affair of the coven. She wishes a good life for her daughter, thus she does what she believes is best to secure Liannah’s happiness. She is an introverted woman, allowing her daughter to be the face of their business, and being a private woman, close to a small handful.

♧ Asa de Paor; The Healer Afab • Queer • He/She • Homosexual • Homo-Demiromantic

The town doctor, Asa is a peculiar woman. During the week, she is found to be a man, on her days off and the weekend she is a woman. She is a kind woman, never turning away anyone in need. Nor does she share the heinous intentions of the coven, she looks for her out of the coven and to move to be a solitary witch at any given time she can.

♧ Alkyone Iordanou; The Pirate Transfem • Nonbinary • They/Them • Pansexual • Aromantic

Originally not a member of the coven, Alkyone was brought in through being paid to do the coven’s dirty work. A rogue pirate, a small-fry compared to the big names such as Kaimana Peisinoe, Edvard Ó Cochláin, Sabir Rouge, and all the other pirates that sail beneath The Liberty. They prefer the smaller life, not having a giant bounty on their head. Currently, they are loyal to the coven, however their loyalty can be bought for an easy price.

♧ Nathir O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate’s Son Amab  • Agender • He/Him • Bisexual • Aromantic

The charming son of Leary. Many whisper that is part fae, due to his charm, if it’s true or not many are unaware. He is a very sophisticated young man, that has managed to wrap the entire town around his finger. While on the surface he is alike his father is a caring, compassionate, charming young man, something sinister brews beneath. He is devious, demanding, domineering.

♧ Liannah Ó Buachalla; The Baker's Daughter Afab • Genderfluid • She/They • Asexual • Panromantic

Being Ceann’s daughter, Liannah helps around the bakery and family business. Unlike the company she keeps, she is a reserved young woman. She is polite and maintains her manners with whomever she is dealing with. She has the patience of a saint and rarely loses her cool. Liannah is the woman with a calm demeanor about her, being a woman many are comfortable around due to her peaceful and calm aura.

♧ Mastema Farrell Baoghal; The Knave Amab • Genderfluid • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic 

Baríon’s bastard son she had with a fiend she bargained with for more power. Since he was young, he was raised by the servants of the house, and the coven, over his own mother; the two have more of a business relationship over a familia one. Since he cares less what his mother does, he spends his time with Liannah and Reyes, either at the bakery or getting into trouble somewhere. With Reyes as an influence, Mastema is a flirtatious man that enjoys scandals and making the most of life

♧ Reyes Amor Bello; The Charlatan  Amab • Queer • He/She • Pansexual • Aromantic

A foreigner to the Coven, born and raised in the Duchy of Incali. At a young age, he became a traveling charlatan, recently settling within the coven only as he befriended Liannah and Mastema and enjoyed their company. Now, he is the local bad influence: scamming locals out of their money at the taverns, wooing and seducing young men and ladies alike, always trespassing and vandalizing something. He is trouble, but has a heart of gold when it matters.

━━━━━━━━━━ Character list is liable to update as progress is made ━━━━━━━━━━

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