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[obamas-eyebrow]

Wilted lemon trees

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The recruiter x Female reader

Summary; He roped you into his world, you crawled out. Now he’s sent to kill you. In a game of cat and mouse with way too much feelings for either of you, assassin vs assassin. (think Ada Wong and Leon Kennedy except idk who’d be who) The story follows the plight of trying to kill you as well as flashbacks of better days. This is angstyyyyyy

Wc; 20k...I think I blacked out writing this. (I added breaks though dw)(I added a lil more to the ending lol)

Warnings; Violence, blood, guns, one mention of DMV (not against reader), stalking, one mention of weight gain, recruiter being a creep, they match each other's freak tho, sfw, kissing. Non sexual nudity. All ‘smut’ is just fade to black or mentions. Drinking. Breaking glass, breaking hearts. Death, a lot of it. MAJOR ANGST THERE'S LIKE V V LITTLE FLUFF. No happy ending. Kinda graphic descriptions of injury at the end. No reader body/race/age descriptions (if any pls lmk), but in my mind there’s an age gap. A little ooc at the end I guess. NO USE OF Y/N. English is not my first language, also this is like only kinda proofread so lmk if something is wrong :D

Reader is referred to as 038, Recruiter is referred to as 013, ex gf oc is referred to as 024.

Other ending 🫶🏻 

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The pitter patter of rain hit the top of your umbrella with a heavy force, picking up speed as your boots squelched in various little puddles. You hurried under the little bus stop, kneeling down to grab the can of tuna from your handbag. The strays had been following you for a minute or so as you tried to find a dry spot for them to eat. They meowed in affection and contempt, allowing you a few headscratches each before they swatted your hand away, your cue to leave. You walked back out under the rain, still bearing down with intensity as you crossed the empty street to make your way to the narrow back alley where the door to your building was. It was warmer inside, but only by a degree or two. You kicked your shoes off, albeit prematurely, but you knew climbing all these stairs in them would be a mistake.

You sniffed slightly as you fished your key out of its hiding spot, the metal cool on your already freezing hand. Before opening the door, you noticed the carpet in front of it being a little damp. Not enough for anyone to notice, but you did. Mostly because you’d stepped on it barefoot. The apartment door croaked open inwardly, revealing your place just as you’d left it; dark and stuffy. The far window was opened slightly, just a centimeter or two. But you knew for sure you’d always kept it shut, meaning only one thing.

Your view of the studio was obstructed by the wall on the left, only allowing you some vision of the foot of the bed and the bathroom by the door. You were at a disadvantage here, gun in your belt useless if you couldn’t see your target. You flicked the central lights by the door on, the room falling into an eerie yellow glow allowing you to catch a hint of his reflection in the window. Your shoulders relaxed slightly and you allowed yourself to fully step into the place and shut the door. 

“You’ve gotten real sloppy.” You shrugged your flimsy coat off and hung it on the hook by the entrance. Dislodging your gun from its spot, you rested it by the table opposite to the bed alongside your keys, paying him no mind. 

“Maybe I wanted you to know I’m here.” He spoke plainly, eyes trained on your movements from his comfortable position on the bed. You looked at him then, willing yourself to soak in the man that had been haunting both your nightmares and dreams. Had it been that long since you last saw each other? The fine lines at the corners of his eyes tell you so. Maybe he’d just been smiling more often in your absence, but that's doubtful. You trailed your eyes over the rest of him, pristine suit contrasted by your cheap bedsheets, gun safely within reach by his hip. 

“Take your shoes off the bed.” you gave him a tired sigh and he pouted, tilting his head slightly but ultimately humouring you. 

You moved to grab a bite from the minifridge by the window, opening it to grab some leftover bread and the nearly empty jar of jam, when an unfamiliar smell hit your nose. 

“Did you- Smoke in here? You know I don’t own the place my landlord’s gonna kill me-” “You’ve had quite the fall from grace.”

“Shocking isn’t it.”

He stood up, rocking slightly on his heel with his gun in hand, arms crossed over his chest. You followed his eyeline to a spot where paint was chipping on the ceiling. 

“Why do you allow yourself to live like this?” 

You turned back to the fridge and grabbed the half-full bottle of cheap whiskey, standing up to grab two of the clean cups on the table and pouring some into each. Swinging your hips softly to shut the fridge door, you turned around to fully face his intense gaze, offering his share. His eyes shot down to the cracked glass and back to you in a mocking manner. He ultimately took the drink though, sipping on it with more class than it deserved. 

“How do you drink this crap?” He grimaced.

“It gets the job done. Any more questions for tonight sherlock?” You raised the glass to your head, an attempt to ease the headache that he’s about to cause. 

“Yeah. You don’t even have ice?”

You didn’t reply, only watched as he let go of his pride and downed the fluid in the cup, his expression turning into a slight frown as he put the cup down on your bed. You knew this wasn’t him being unable to handle his liquor, just pure disgust at the drink you gave him. And at you, just a little.

“You looked like you needed that.” you chuckled, pointing out the tenseness in his jaw.

“Yeah well, I have a very big job today.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” You feigned innocence, moving closer to him slowly, not that the distance was already that large. He gave you a half lidded look, watching intently as you inched closer to him. 

“I think you know,” he smiled slightly.

“Say it.”

“I’m here to kill you.” he whispered, the distance between you now less than a breath’s worth. 

“So do it.”

He didn’t move and neither did you, both holding your positions in determination. Or maybe this was a fight for dominance. His hands were rigid at his sides, gun in one and fist balled up in the other, his head was tilted to look at you, gaze finding the contrast between your lips and eyes an interesting sight to compare time and time again. You were getting a little bored, so your hand found it’s way to the one with a gun and brought it up to your torso, aimed straight at the heart. 

“Shoot. Me.”

He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, air hitting your face as he held his place. You felt his fingers move around the gun, placing an index on the trigger. You moved your face ever closer to his, lips almost touching as you both stood in the stillness of the room. He met your eyes, conflict and turmoil simmering in his. 

“You gone soft on me?” You challenged. “How boring, I need a shower,”

You pulled away from his warmth and he watched as you turned around and began undressing, stripping casually and folding your outside clothes neatly on a nearby chair with other garments. You turned back to him once more, finding his gaze begrudgingly fixed on your face rather than your naked form. Once he made sure you were watching, he lazily took in the rest of you, a new tally of scars peppering your arms and abdomen, and one particular nasty one near your hip bone. His eyes stopped at it, observing the irregular healing and stretched, discolored skin in an almost circular shape. 

“That one didn’t heal quite well.” He commented.

You chuckled mockingly, stepping towards the tiny closet space to grab a towel and stepped back into his armreach slowly.

“Well the guy who shot me used a shotgun that day, close range too.” You were ever so close to him again. “Ain’t he cruel?”

His nostrils flared slightly, recalling the actions you were referring to. His hand moved to grab you on its own but you slipped away, as you usually did. His gaze never left your back as you disappeared from his line of sight into the bathroom. 

“You’ve gained weight.” He said playfully, eliciting a loud laugh from you in the adjacent room. He strolled the short distance to where you were slowly, habitually avoiding making any noise. 

“You like?” You leaned your head out of  the bathroom door, tilting your head innocently, as if you two were just some couple flirting with each other. “That’s what happens when you stop seeing death so often, you start regaining your appetite. It’s crazy, you should try it sometime.”  

You whipped back into the small room. He made his way to its door leaning slightly on the frame, observing as you stepped under the water stream in the far corner. Far is an overstatement actually, it was only a step or two away from him. A singular white light bulb lit the overhead, hanging from some loose wires. Quite the fire hazard. One hand found a way into his pocket whilst the other rested by his side, gun still heavy and presumably loaded. He watched you curiously, your trembling muscles telling him the water was cold. You had your body towards him, head angled away from the water to avoid wetting your hair. You brought your hand over your face, rinsing it with some of the cold, a sobering motion it seemed, as you then quickly met his looming figure. 

“You gonna join me or just stand there like a creep?” You finally acknowledged him. 

He didn’t know why he obeyed, why his feet made their way into your embrace, stepping under the stream with you, causing his clothes to get soaked. His hair was getting wet too, though he didn’t really mind. Your back hit the cool shower tile, allowing him to step fully in and lean over you. He began shivering a little, too. The cold finally found his skin through the thick suit. Your hands smoothed over his toned abdomen from above the wet dress shirt, roaming up to his shoulders to help him out of the jacket and tossing it onto the ground. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you soaked him all in. His teeth started clattering a little. 

“You can’t afford warm water?” he whispered, the distance between you not calling for his voice to be louder than that. You didn’t answer, instead grabbed his tie and pulled him in. He took the initiative to slot his lips onto yours then, soft and unsure. You pulled back momentarily, allowing only a whisker of space between you. 

“Why are you being so gentle?” You poked at him. “I’m afraid you’ve really lost your touch.”

“You used to be more polite last I left you.”

“Oh don’t go telling people you left me now, it’ll ruin my image.”

“Do you always have to have the last word?”

“How many more questions are you asking me tonight?”

You were pissing him off, he knew this was purposeful. You loved to get on his nerves, rile him up over the littlest things. He’d abandoned this part of him so long ago, and now here you were forcing it back out of the depths of his being.  

He used his free hand to grab your cheek harshly, pulling you into his lips once more. Only this time, the kiss was bruising. He was not letting you get one single breath in, biting at your bottom lip a little causing it to draw blood. He lapped up that flavour like a man starving. Still deep in your air, his loaded hand traveled up with the gun, aiming it at your chin from below. He pulled away only when he physically couldn’t breathe anymore. You were in a very compromising position, you both knew that. 

“There he is.” You panted with a small smile, a hand coming up to brush a stray hair off his face. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

He knows, of course he knows. You didn’t acknowledge the threat at your neck, whether this was trust or a challenge he wasn’t sure. He isn’t ever when it comes to you anyway. The water above you two sputered, signaling the end of the reserve. You snorted at his face, he must’ve been appalled or something, and turned the tap off, stepping off to his side leaving his warmth. He stared at his shoes, back to you as you dried yourself and left the room, water dripping down his head and to his feet. He willed himself to just get this over with, end this game you two have going on. Push the memories back down to where no one could elicit them again. His grip on the gun tightened, but what good does that do if he can’t twitch his finger on the trigger. 

1. . .1

He stared at the range from behind the thick pane of glass, using the cold cup to ice the bruises on his knuckles. The place was really nothing more than a hole in the wall, but it had it’s charm. A combination bar-gun range with some pool and poker tables, likely a front for money laundering, considering it was only ever busy on weekends. Otherwise it would just be him and the bartender of the night, but he enjoyed the break from the outside world. Plus he could watch amateurs give it their all in a macho-off, usually ending in some form of fight. They disgusted him, the people here. He’d people-watched long enough to know who most of them really were beyond these walls, pathetic and indebted to a vast array of people, yet they blow thousands on stupid bets and rigged games of poker, he can’t get that much entertainment elsewhere really. His spot in the corner gave him quite the view of all the commotions. Occasionally, he’d venture into the poker tables and play a few rounds. Losing his first couple of hands only to win big when the players got cocky. Something about watching low-lifes lose their entire net worth gave him satisfaction. He’d leave the winnings for the waiting staff that night anonymously, though he’s got a feeling they’d caught on to him. Other times, he’d watch as patrons came up with their own gun-shooting competitions, placing silly bets and risky prizes. He always joins those, they’re quite rare. Like tonight. There was a particular man in his mid-thirties that would spark these contests. Ex-policeman, that much he told everyone. Through a little more homework he found out that his wife left him and now he’s running away from several domestic violence charges. Unfortunately, the man had never given him the chance to drain him dry, always refusing to bet any real money on these contests. That’s why he’s resorted to staying at 3rd to 4th place when they play, waiting for the cop to let his guard down. Laying the trap so that he could pull the rug from under him. Yes, he plays the long game here, no matter how often they trash talk. 

That’s where he first fully laid eyes on you. You were usually behind the bar, so seeing you waiting tables meant that they were likely very short staffed. You smacked a piece of gum as you maneuvered around drunk patrons to reach the tables. You made it to the gun area with the beers that the men had ordered, looking captivating as ever in your unassuming uniform. Something about you drew his attention, though he couldn’t quite place it. You set the drinks down in front of the loud men, your gaze finding his for only a fraction of a second. 

“Thank you doll,” the older policeman said with a bit too much honey in his tone. “Oh and uh one more thing,” causing you to turn around, notebook in hand ready to take the next order. 

“How bout that kiss huh,” smooching sounds came out of him and you made a very obvious face, the drunkards around him roaring with laughter. You didn’t say anything, only turned back around to wait more tables. 

Later on in the night, after the contest had ended leaving the policeman, once again, victorious. He placed 5th, already almost feeling the fruits of his patience start to blossom as some of the guys had begun discussing re-matches with serious money involved. Oh how he could not wait to drain these fools dry. Bye-bye college fund. You made your way back to their place with refills of their drinks. The bar was a lot less busy now, considering the approaching dawn. Most of the other staff had left, and now that he looked around, most of the bar goers had gone too. Leaving you and the group he sat with. The man couldn’t resist taking another shot at you, now more vulnerable with less people around.

“Cmon sweetheart, what’s a man gotta do to earn your affection?”

You ignored him, continuing to slowly place the cups onto the table. He then slapped two 50,000 won bills on the table. “Cmon baby, how much for the night.”

“Not for sale,” you grumbled. 

“Let's make it a bet then. If you win, I’ll give you double the amount” he said, slapping two more bills on top. That piqued your interest. You looked at the money then back up to him. 

“And if I lose?”

“You know what, but I’ll be nice. Maybe tip ya after.” 

You swallowed thickly, weighing your options carefully.

“What’s the bet?”

“If you could shoot better than my buddy here,” the man pointed back to him, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Then you win.”

You smiled a little. 

“Why him? Why not you?”

“Just giving you a fair chance sweet thing,”

You sucked on your teeth a little, smirk evident on the corner of your mouth. You shoved your hand into your pocket and pulled out some bills, tips he assumed, and stacked them onto the money on the table. 

“No, I'll shoot against you.”

Ooohs erupted from around. If the man had a little less ego he would’ve seen your confidence and took it as a sign to back out. But he didn’t, instead he sneered and motioned for one of the other men to grab two handguns, 10 bullets each. 

The officer went first and the other bartenders huddled in with the group to observe. Out of the ten bottles they used as targets, the man shot down 5. Yes, 5. That was the high score for the night. Though, most of them were drunk and probably struggling with diplopia so that’s impressive enough. They reset the bottles and everyone held their breaths. 

He observed your stance, way too comfortable with the weapon to be just a waitress. You shot bottle after bottle, missing not a single one. The dim lighting of the place coupled with the breaths of a dozen men down your back should've thrown you off, but it didn’t. Color him impressed. Cheers of bewilderment rose through the crowd as you moved to grab your money but a hand stopped you, causing the roars to quiet down.

“You cheated.” the officer accused.

“How? I made the bottles blow up?” You mocked.

“One more round, this time we use the bullseyes”

 “Hmm I don’t really feel like a rematch,” you pouted, causing the angry man to slap a few more bills onto the table.

“No that won’t do…How about that card?” You smiled innocently and the man’s jaw clenched.

“Fine, but if I win, you won’t like how you’ll end up tonight.”

That statement didn’t scare you, only disgust present on your face as you continued chewing the gum. 

He watched in awe once more as you handled the bullseye with ease, the skills of a marksman present in your grip. Though he could tell you were holding back. Ultimately, you had the winning paper. He stood by you as you watched the angry man get escorted away by security as you gave his credit card an obnoxious kiss, followed by waving an enthusiastic goodbye.

He was so intrigued by you, just itching to know more. 

2. . .2

He made his way back to where you were, clothes dripping onto the floor with every step he took, panting a little with frustration. It was neither the water nor the cold that bothered him, but the effect you hold over his being. He observed your movements with tongue in cheek, looking at you with his head tilted to the floor slightly as you waltzed around the small space as if nothing happened. As if he wasn't here to end you. As if you hadn’t spoken in almost a year. He spent the better part of it clawing your ghost off his skin, promising himself self control if he ever saw you again.  

“Why didn’t you run?” He sneered.

“This is me running.” You replied plainly. He hugged himself a little as he leaned on the wall, crossing one leg over. 

“You’re doing a terrible job.”

“Hard to flee the country when you’re legally dead.” You handed him an item of clothing but he refused it before even checking what it was, convincing himself he would not be staying that long anyway. He gave you a mocking sympathetic expression as he decided to pull himself deep into his thoughts to build up the strength to just shoot you. 

You took the item back and turned away from him on the opposite side of the room, rummaging through a bag on the floor. He thought of everything he had on the line, everything he was risking by letting you live this long and it fueled his grip on the gun. You’d both gone silent now, the room only filled with the loud clicking of a beat up clock you have on the wall. He cocked his weapon, allowing you the warning to say any last words. Your hands slowly came up from your sides, showcasing their emptiness as you turned around with wide eyes. He didn’t ever gather how you’d been able to read him so well, how you know when he’s weak and when he’s willing to take the shot. You stared at him with a hurt expression. 

“Any last word-”

“You won’t make this a game at least?”

“I have a job to do-” His words were cut off by a swift trick of your hands, pulling out a throwing knife from its hiding spot in your sleeve and lodging it in his shooting shoulder, causing the first bullet to miss and break the window instead. His free hand came up to clutch the bleeding joint as his grip weakened in pain, though he kept it aimed at your head. In the meantime, you pulled out a gun yourself, yours aimed directly at him, too. Your expression had changed from fear to determination and he noticed you’d put outside clothes on. He must’ve been distracted while you were changing. 

“Is this why you took my jacket off?” He laughed a little and you smirked. Of course you did, ridding him of the only form of protection he had on, leaving him just as vulnerable as you were. Evening the playing field, clever girl.“I don’t want to die,” You shook your head slightly, silently telling him this wasn’t going to be an easy win. 

“No hard feelings, 038.” He used your guard ID, further driving a wedge between the two of you. The sudden change in demeanor like a punch in the gut. 

“Ditto.”

Time stood still once more as his hand clutched the firearm, carefully weighing the options here. Last time you two had a standoff like this you ended up with that scar and he wasn’t unharmed either, but you both lived. He can’t let that happen again. The yellow bulb casted a weak glow on your face making you look quite ethereal. He couldn’t come up with a way to move things forward. He knew that the moment he took the shot, you would too, leaving you both dead. He also knew that he couldn’t dodge it from such a short distance. 

You could though, because you wouldn’t wait for him to take initiative. Another concealed knife made it’s way into his arm as he shot in reaction to your sudden movement, lodging itself near the elbow causing his muscles to misalign and miss you, the shot landing in your biceps instead. You took this opportunity to lunge at him, knocking him to the ground in the process. Your undamaged hand wrestled with his twice injured one in an attempt to disarm him as you straddled his abdomen, but he managed to toss the gun into the other palm and hit you on the head with it throwing you off balance. He moved quickly to position himself on you but not before you managed to grab the weapon embedded in his shoulder, soaking his formerly white shirt with even more red. He re-positioned the pistol to your head as he noticed his blood staining your face, but you managed to stab him in the same arm once more, twisting the knife causing him to cry out in pain. The blood from your little trick dripped onto your lips and you smiled, then took this opportunity to knee him right where the money’s at, hindering him enough to be able to wiggle out from beneath him and get up. 3-1, to you. 

The front of your boot collided with his sternum causing him to fall back as you reached down for his gun. You kept your foot there as he panted beneath you, and you made a show of unloading his gun of its ammo all around him, tossing the weapon out of the broken window, your hand then coming up to clutch your injured arm. 

“You haven’t changed at all,” he laughed, defeated and bleeding from three different wounds in the same arm. 

“You, however, have gotten real rusty.” You kept your own firearm aimed at his head, knowing that logically, this is the only out you have. 

“Is it too late to convince you to change your mind?”

“What? And come back to the games?” you asked and he nodded softly. “I left for a reason, 013. Plus they’d have my head the moment I step on the island, I’m not stupid.”

“I could put in a real good word for you,”

“I don’t think you’re as significant as you think you are.”

“Got you in, didn’t I?” That caused you to ponder.  “Back then I was even less significant.”

You frowned a little, unsure where he was going with this.

“Is this fear talking, 013? You scared to die? Scared I’ll shoot?”

He laughed, tossing his head to the side a bit before re-meeting your amused expression. 

“No. I know you won’t shoot,” He smiled. “Maybe I just miss you too.”

He propped himself onto his elbows as you both panted in frustration, sweat dripping down either of your bodies as you contemplated his words. He was pretty like this, so harmless. It often makes you forget who he really was, so the little weasel wasted no time in reminding you. 

In one quick movement, he grabbed the knife in his forearm and stuck it in your leg, hitting bone in the process, you yelped at the sudden pain.

He took the opportunity to volt back up, grabbing an empty bottle from the floor and throwing it at your head, you managed to duck though, the glass shattering on the wall behind. You used this moment to run for the door, bag of belongings slung on your good shoulder. You reached the knob before he grabbed the glass you’d been drinking from earlier and charged at you, smashing it on your head, causing bright blood to drip from your scalp onto your face. He used his position behind you to wrap a strong arm around your neck, his other hand stabilizing your head as he began ridding you of your air supply. You struggled once, twice, smacking his forearm with all your might, then went limp in his embrace. He loosened his grip on you at the relief of your unconsciousness. He hadn’t though, anticipated the shot that rang out. You were only pretending to go limp and the relief he grated you allowed you to snake your arm around yourself, shooting blindly into him. The shot landed near his liver, but he knew it likely missed anything important, you weren’t shooting to kill after all. He clutched his side, vision going a bit blurry from the accumulated blood loss, causing him to drop down against the wall, staining it red. 

He watched as you wheezed violently, coughing up blood as you clutched your trachea for relief, your injuries exciting him a little, especially your painted face. You both heaved in unison, either one of you unable to take the winning shot. You kneeled down next to him and stuck a hand in his pocket, he didn’t have the energy to stop you. 

“Take me out to dinner first,” he chuckled, earning no reaction from you. You made a show of jiggling his car keys in front of his face, clutching them back in your palm before he could snatch them away. Before you turned to leave you leaned in close and planted a feverish kiss from your busted lip onto his. His hand instinctively cupped your face, dyeing it with some of his blood to match yours. Your bleed seeped slowly into the kiss and he couldn’t get enough of the flavour, chasing your warmth a little when you pulled back, wiping your face and sniffing.  

“Don’t keep me waiting for you that long again, baby.” You pecked him harshly once more and rose back up to pull the door open, letting the building’s cold in. This occurrence must not be that rare since none of the residents cared enough to come check or even filter into the hallway. You turned back to him once more, shooting him a smirk-wink combo before slamming the door shut in his face. 

His tongue wiped his teeth free of your taste, tangy and metallic as he sighed, laughing a little maniacally to an empty room. The events of the night being the highest form of entertainment to him. Baby. What an odd word, he chuckled. He reached his hand into his pocket to call for backup, something he’d never usually do but he’d rather not bleed out here, all alone. His fingers stilled in his pants as a realisation dawned on him.

You took his wallet too

.

3. . .3

He’d spent the last few weeks watching you intently, finding out all there was available to know about you. Your name, how old you were, where you grew up, went to school. Basic stuff. He’d also made a habit of following you along your daily routine. It was fun, always being around without your knowledge. He knows where you live and on which floor. He knows what time you get off your morning shift and he’d watch you change into a different uniform for the next. 2 different jobs a day and sometimes you’d add the extra night at the bar. Your favorite coffee spot became his and the store you stop by regularly had started to recognise his face. All information available about you, every routine, every like and dislike, every hobby and nervous habit, he had memorised to heart. He’d held out for this long cause not a single pattern in your past or present gave him a clue about your skills. Not military service, not an ambitious parent, not self defence classes and not even a pastime. Away from that one night at the bar, you’ve never picked up a gun again in the last weeks. How could someone so ordinary hold such a specific skill? Fascinating. He skimmed your medical records looking for any slip up he could find, a wound unfitting for a simple waitress, finding nothing but endless bills piling up in debt. The only logical next step was to just ask, but he had bigger plans. 

“She’d have to join circle and work her way up” 

He sighed. No, that wasn’t satisfactory. He tried pleading once more with the head guard, his position as head triangle guard not strong enough to make a case, but his charm has gotten him way bigger things before.

“That would be a waste of quite the sharpshooter.”

“When she comes in and is able to display these skills you speak of, we can talk then.”

That's The best he could get. 

You got off work, as usual, at around 2am. He waited in the quiet corner of the bar as you rid yourself of the apron and packed your things. He followed from a safe distance, your first stop on a sunday like this being the 24hr convenience store a few streets down. Then you’ll take an  extra five minutes to pet the sickly dog whose owners won’t feed him at the end of the street, leaving him some sort of processed meat before you turn back to the actual way home. Near the end of your tour there’s a particular alleyway you have to cross to get home. He’d noticed how you always tense up then, likely due to the constricting and dark nature of the path. He’ll strike you then, it’ll earn him the best possible reaction, scared and alone. That part is for his own enjoyment, nothing more. 

Tonight though, weather much warmer and no breeze in the air, you’d taken several unplanned detours to seemingly random places all around. This angered him, following you like a lost puppy, briefcase heavy in hand as he tried to keep up appearances, but your sudden spontaneity put him on edge. He trailed you errand to errand, though you never seemed to have a reason for them. Clothes store then a jewelry one then you went fruit shopping, he really couldn’t fathom what you could be preparing for. At the end of the night though, you fed the ugly dog and treaded back to his made up meeting point. You were several paces ahead of him as you turned the corner into the alley, disappearing from his sight momentarily. He took a deep breath, willing himself to keep the excitement inwardly. He turned the corner in your steps only to be confronted face to face with you. The coldness of your revolver an unexpected feeling on his forehead, doing its best to ward off the summer heat. You stared at him with a tense expression, hand steady around the firearm you were pushing into his temple. 

“Drop it.” you ordered, motioning to the bag in his hand, so he obeyed and you kicked it far out of reach across the dirty street floor. Both hands came up in surrender. 

“Game’s over pretty boy.”

He shot you one of his million dollar smiles, the one he usually resorted to to get what he wants. It didn’t seem to affect you though, only clenching your jaw as a response. 

“I come in peace.”

“That why you’ve been following me for the last month?”

So you noticed him. Did you also notice him watching you change? And jump from job to job? Or just following you home? You were a lot more vigilant than he’d given you credit for. His chest filled with admiration. 

“You are not at all who you seem to be, ms…”

“Oh you know my name too?” You scoffed. “You wanna stop flashing your teeth before I make a hole in that head of yours?”

“My apologies,” he cleared his throat, amusement still evident on his face. “So aggressive…” he whispered, but at the distance you two stood at, he knew you heard him. Your expression remained unchanged. 

“I’ve come with a proposal for you.”

“I decline.”

He bit his tongue to suppress his smile, letting out a shaky breath of pleasure. He wants nothing more than to break you apart, bit by bit, your strong attitude making the image in his mind ever more satisfying. 

“I beg you to let me convince you then.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not interested in drug schemes,”

“Do I look like I would approach you for that?”

It was that statement that caused you to take a good look at him, recognition finding its way into your face. Yes, the man from the shooting range. 

“Ah, you’re the scammer.”

“I am no such thing.”

“Right, you pretend to be bad at poker so they play their life savings onto the table then win, scamming them out of their money. You’d been doing that at the range too right? But they won’t give you the chance.”

He smiled ear to ear, you knew him a lot more than he anticipated. 

“You call it scamming, I call it a fun night out. Besides, I assure you my employer has nothing to do with that.”

“And what makes you think I’m buying whatever you’re selling”

“The fact that you haven’t shot me yet, anyone else wouldn’t have given the strange man following them a chance to speak, let alone converse. So either you’re morbidly curious to what I have to say or you’ve got no sense of self preservation.”

It was your turn to smile, flustered a little as you bit on your bottom lip, his effect now impossible to deny.

“May I ask you lower your weapon?”

 “No you look good like this.”

That caught him off guard, causing a little blush to rise to his cheeks.

“We’ll be needing your skills-”

“My shooting?” you interrupted.

“Yes, you can say you’ll be ridding the world of its filth.”

“Sounds like community service.”

“You could call it that.”

Your gun finally went down to your side as you pulled away from him, turning to give him your back “I’m good, thanks.”

“10 million won for around 2 weeks a year. More, if they like you.”

That stopped you in your tracks. 

“I know what that kind of money could do for you ms…, the hospital records are easy to access.”

“What’s the catch?” you turned around slowly.

“There’s no catch.”

“What kind of community service is it?”

He crossed the distance between you, picking up his long forgotten case in the process. He smoothed his clothes over and reached into his chest pocket, pulling out a brown business card. 

“You’ll just have to find out for yourself.” He offered you the card between two fingers, neat and trimmed. You grabbed it, going to inspect what exactly it says. 

3 shapes and a number on the back. 

“Hey this doesn’t really-” You looked back up from the paper, finding no trace of the man you’d become familiar with. You never even caught his name. The card in your hand felt heavy, as if it was calling for you to sell your soul to it. Ok that’s a bit dramatic, but the nature in which you were handed it didn’t really ease your worries. What kind of work has their - albeit, smoking hot- representatives stalk potential employees? And they’d take you based on just this guy’s word? He must be important.

You stood dumbly in the dim corridor, gun in one hand pointed at the ground and the card in the other. The kind of money he speaks of…it could change everything, it could give you a new life. 

What’s the worst that could happen? 

4. . .4

He clutched his side, chasing any form of pain relief he knows won’t come. The streets were empty aside from the occasional bar or party. The car was window sprinkled with raindrops from earlier. They zoomed past the dingy part of town he’d cornered you in, heading back to the main quarters he presumed. The silence was deafening, he waited for anyone to say anything, though there was no one in the car. He was expecting a call from one of the higher guards, though his position granted him a lot of immunity from them. 

“013.” a voice came over the speaker and he tensed up, knowing exactly who this belonged to.

“Mr. Frontman.”

He sat up straight, knowing he was likely being watched at the moment, wincing in pain as some blood oozed out at the sudden movement, his vision growing more blurry by the minute. The matter was a lot more serious than he’d given it credit then, to have the man himself discuss what happened with him could only mean one thing. You’d been causing more trouble, running your mouth and needed to be put down. It’s not a lot that could spike his nerves like this, but the thought of losing everything he worked hard for because of some girl, it tore at him. 

“What happened tonight?”

He had a feeling the man already knew.

“A slip up, it won’t happen again.”

“I took quite the risk sending you, 013. But you’ve let her get under your skin, again.”

He opened his mouth to protest but only groaned in pain. 

“I’ll find her again, and this time I won’t-”

“I’d like you to take backup.”

Backup? He scoffed. He was not a child needing babysitting. 

“I assure you-”

“Take 024, that’s an order.” The line clicked and he sighed, grabbing one of the glasses on the armrest and smashing it in anger, both hands then coming up to rake through his damp hair in frustration. He tried to even his breathing, recollect himself and not allow you to have this effect on him, failing miserably. The car screeched to a halt in front of his own building, guess he won’t even get good treatment tonight.

He limped his way to the elevator and smacked the button with a closed fist, leaving blood everywhere he stepped. He leaned back on himself a little, head tilting up to observe the numbers decrease then a ting! His feet shuffled in and punched in his code, the elevator closing shortly after as he began the ascent to the penthouse. With his back against the wood of the elevator wall, he observed his reflection in the metal of the door. Bloody, tired, defeated. 

Pathetic.

He couldn’t help but recall the way your hands moved over him earlier, already stupidly missing your touch. Another ting! And he was at his place, cold and empty. His finger flicked the central lighting by the elevator, bringing the place to life. He kicked off his shoes, walking barefoot to the nearby guest bathroom. Guest… yeah. The room was relatively small, in comparison to his main bathroom anyway, but he didn’t want to taint the whole place with blood. He’d hate to get rid of yet another cleaning lady. He stepped into the shower, not bothering to toy with the water settings as he turned it on. For the second time that night, he’d found himself under a stream, only this time the temperature was much more humane. Usually he likes cold showers, but the warmth was a lot more efficient in getting rid of your icy memory. He stripped off his blood-soaked garments, red fluid flowing down his legs and into the drain, tossing the clothes to the side. He rested his pounding head on the tiled wall, sighing as the heat eased his aching muscles. Then he pooled some water into his hands, bringing them over his face and head a few times to wash away all impurities. The injuries littered across his body burned a little causing a shiver to crawl down his spine, he needs to take care of those. 

Back out in the kitchen, he made skillful work of the needle and thread through the deep wound as the dirtied clothes sat by the door waiting to be taken care of. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, hair still freshly wet from the shower. He’d fished the bullet out, placing it next to him as a token of defeat. The needle pierced his abdomen easily and he pushed it back out the other side with impatience; he still had a few stab wounds he needs to get to. But at the rate he was going, it would heal quite badly, then you two would be matching. How revolting. Once he was done with that mess, he moved onto using surgical staples for his arm, since there’s no way he could fix that himself. 

He used some bags and gloves to handle the clothes next, transporting them to his disposal oven. He tossed everything in there, his shoes, pants and shirt. The door of the furnace slammed shut and he observed the rising fire through the little window. He ought to do that to you, he thought, lit cigarette in hand. He hates smoking, the smell of it and the aftertaste don’t go well with him, but its effects as a stress reliever are undeniable, considering the other option is on the run at the moment. At the image of you sneaking back into his mind, his body slumped a bit forward as he kept his eyes trained on the dancing flames. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, mostly memories of better days and yearnings of what ifs, things that he did not want to dwell on right now. The phone in his hand read the familiar number, one that often left a sour taste in his mouth, but he had to click dial. Captain’s orders. He took a long drag in. 

The tone rang once, twice then,

“Hello?” A soft female voice enthusiastically replied from the device, clearly anticipating his call. He could only stare at the contact, grimacing a little at the prospect of who was on the other side, blowing some smoke at the screen. 

“Hellooo?” The voice called again, then laughed, “I know it’s you 013,”

“Hello, 024,” he replied finally. “I trust you got the memo,” He took another inhale.

“Yeah I did, wanna come over to discuss?” the voice a little too sultry for him to deal with right now. He knew what she was insinuating, he’d tried to find comfort in her at your disappearance. Big mistake seeing as he spent their fleeting moments together looking for hints of you in her, wasting both of their time. Exhale.

“That will not be necessary, I’ll see you at headquarters tomorrow morning.”

“Aw, sugar, why so cold? She hurt you that bad? I’m always here to kiss it better.” He rolled his eyes, not needing to be present to feel her winking. 

“Goodnight 024.” He ended the call before she could get another word in. The fire was long gone now, leaving only ashes and a burnt out cigarette as a testament to the night’s shenanigans. 

5. . .5

You woke up groggy in a pristine red and white room, mind scrambling to try and recall where you were and how you’d gotten here, though you could only remember the latter. You took the man in the suit up for his offer, dialing the number a few days later and getting into that weird storage container. Everyone else there knew what to do, leaving you the sheepish odd one out. You considered backing out then, since no one would tell you what the hell was going on, but for some odd reason, you pushed through. Maybe you were worried you wouldn’t see his pretty face again otherwise…maybe. There was a blinking camera in the corner, indicating your every move being watched. You moved the covers off your body to reveal a black set of loungewear underneath; a tank top and leggings. To your right there was a toilet with its cover shut, a red uniform placed neatly on top of it and a black mask with a huge circle on it. You looked around for any instructions, explanations but found none, so you sat cluelessly, weighing the options. But by the time you decided to try the door, a knock came from outside. You shot up, ready for anyone to tell you what the hell was going on. The door cracked open to reveal a looming figure in the same uniform that rested in your room, his face covered by a triangle mask. The whatever pushed past you, welcoming themselves into your room. They turned to the camera to reveal their identity, discarding the cover to the side. You shut the door softly, leaning back on it as you observed him turn around with an eager smile on his face. His presence was oddly comforting. 

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up.” you mirrored his expression.

“You’ve been awake for all of 5 minutes, plus I had things to do.” He teased. 

“Well?” You gestured to the surroundings. 

“Well,” he parroted. “Just put your uniform on, I’ll get you shooting soon enough.”

You nodded and he left the room with determinants in his movements, face once again covered.

He maneuvered through the empty hallways he had access to, mind set on reaching the head guard to work his magic for you. He was evidently excited, hoping for a front seat view of presumably your first kill. The door to the room slid open upon identification, revealing some of the other heads as well as the main one readying up for the game in their lockers. He skipped past everyone and aimed for the highest ranking man in the room.

“She’s here.” he stated.

The other guard sighed, “She can join circle for now-”

“Red light, green light is the best time for her to show you what she could do.”

The man stopped his movements and turned to him, despite having his face hidden and a voice changer on, he could tell that he was tired of his antics.

“013, as head triangle you know we’ve got a full house,” the man said sternly. “If someone drops out for any reason, you could have her fill in.”

That’s all the motivation he needed, he left the bathroom stalls in search of you once more, leaving that lanky kid’s unconscious body in a locked stall. He doesn’t really feel bad for him, he’s a terrible shooter so there’s no net losses anyway. 

He knocked on your door once more, an extra mask in hand to be gifted to you. You opened and he observed your figure in the unflattering uniform, face still uncovered. You took a small step to the side to allow him in and shut the door. 

“Ok, put this on. Your number is 038, for now.”

Your identity was now fully concealed, the only difference between the two of you being the height. 

“Follow my lead, don’t ask questions till we get to the shooting range.”

You nodded and he reached for the door handle but your voice stopped him. 

“Wait, I never caught your name.”

“That’s confidential.”

Actually, it's been so long since someone referred to him by his actual name, the people here use guard IDs for ease of recall. 

“Oh come on,” you lifted your mask to get rid of the stupid voice changer. “You know all there’s to know about me and I know absolutely nothing! I can’t keep referring to you as ‘gun guy’ in my head.”

He chuckled quietly, appalled at your insistence of finding out who he was. He mirrored your previous action, moving the cover of his face so that you could see him. 

“Just call me 013 for now, ok?” He put the cover back on, referring to the number on his chest.You rolled your eyes, “Sure.” and fixed your mask once more.

You trailed behind him as he led you through colourful passageways and winding corridors. Nothing about the place could give you any indication as to where you were or what the task was. Or what’s with the eyesore for uniforms. A few people passed you on your journey, all wearing the same uniform save for different shapes on masks and numbers. He finally brought you over to a small room with black walls and a singular window on the opposite side. The area was tiny, barely leaving any space for you two to stand side by side. The walkie talkie on him made a sound but no words came out, only a sort of code you assume. 

“Wait here,” he turned back to deal with whatever that was. “You can take the mask off.” 

Didn’t have to tell you twice, that thing is so stupidly suffocating it’s insane. Sweaty too. You have a feeling someone was wearing it before you put it on. Ew.

You crouched to inspect the view from the little hole, sitting on your knees. It looked out onto a vast desert-like arena with painted walls, huge. It was also made so that you’d have to be laying down to shoot, well, like a sniper. Near your side of the arena there was a large doll-like statue with its back to you. Some red guards began filtering into the from the sides, contrasting the dull blues of the place, like blood on a surgeon’s scrubs. The heat was unbearable in the uniform, they really could afford all this but made the thing out of polyester? Was cotton out of budget? Maybe it doesn’t come in this ugly colour. 

Your fashion critic moment was cut off by ‘013’ sneaking back into the room, a black case in his hand. He dropped it gently at your feet before taking his mask off and fixing his hair, beads of sweat dancing on his forehead. 

“I trust you know how to handle this?”

You popped the case open to reveal a sleek black sniper rifle, the kind way too expensive for you to have ever held it. But you knew the concept.

“More or less.” you grumbled as your hands went to work assembling the piece as he stood over you with his arms crossed, watching with intense eyes. He saw you struggle a little with the support tripod so he leaned down to help you. You both worked in silence and efficiency, moving the completed puzzle to the window. You took your position behind the trigger, patiently awaiting instructions. He sat down by your side, mumbling something into the device in his hands. 

The small doors opposite to where you were opened allowing teal blue figures to move in. You used the scope to observe the targets closer.

“People…?” You questioned out loud. “People??”

“I wouldn’t call them that” the gruff voice from behind you replied as you began piecing the situation together. 

“What the hell is this?” You turned to find him smiling sickeningly at you, his hands toying with a smaller weapon. 

“Red light, green light.”

“The children’s game?”

“If the players move when they shouldn’t, I’ll tell you a number, you find them, then shoot.”

“I’m not killing anyone.”

His jaw clenched in frustration, suddenly making you feel fear in the compromising position you’re in. A voice outside began explaining the game rules. 

“The game is simple enough, really, but you’d be surprised how often they mess up.”

He cocked his gun. 

“My instructions were also pretty simple but I’ll clarify them for you. They move, I tell you the number, you shoot.” His eyes were fixed on your terrified ones. “Or else I shoot you.”

He pointed the gun at you and something about the whole circumstance made you sure he wasn’t just talking. You turned back to the scope, observing as the players readied themselves for the task and he lodged the gun into your side, keeping it there. 

“Do they know?” Your shaky voice betrayed you. You didn’t have to turn around to see the smile on his face, coupled with a short laugh. 

“No. Not yet.”

The doll sang her melody and the victims began to play. Stopping at red, going with green. Your palms were sweaty on the trigger as you tried to come up with a way to back out of this, finding no escape. You saw the man move out of turn before 013 relayed the number to you.

“255” 

You had the shot aligned to his head, breath getting quick and frantic. He pushed the gun further into you. 

“Do it.” 

So you did, jumping back a little at the loud bang. 

“Domino down.” He laughed into the walkie talkie and you weren’t sure what he meant. Soon enough though, the realisation came to you. 

The arena descended into chaos, almost half of the players had now started running the way they came from, breaking the rules.

He leaned in close to your ear. 

“Cmon now, don’t disappoint me.”

You blocked it all out, the screams and cries of fear, the blood splashing all around outside, the clothes sticking to your skin, all of it, and began to shoot. 

Moving targets were always your favourite anyway. 

Shot after shot after shot. You became numb to it, the thought that these were real people, bargaining with the idea of it being either you or them. No longer waiting for the numbers to be called out, you can tell who lost yourself. The machine in your hands made headshots a breeze, the scope making it impossible to miss, or maybe you were just getting cocky, knowing you’ve shot better with much more rudimentary equipment. 

“013,” a voice came from behind you, “tell your girl to leave some kills for the rest of us.”

He laughed into the device, “get better.”

You were not his girl. 

The rush died down and the doll explained the rules once more to the surviving competitors.  

Red light, green light. 

You watched closely for any more losers, shooting a handful in the remaining game time. Your lip was bloody from how hard you were biting it as you got back up with a vacant look in your eyes. He got up as well, grabbing your discarded mask and handing it to your shaking grip. His hand came up to your face, brushing some of the blood on your lips with his thumb. You swatted his arm away and looked at him, a sick smile plastered on that perfect face of his. You turned back to the door and quickly left as he watched you in amusement, bringing the bloodied digit onto his tongue. Kneeling back down to dismantle the weapon, he wondered with a smirk if you’d even be able to find your way back, or if he would find you in some empty corner all scared and alone, easy prey. He put the gun back into its case and exited the room, being met with a short triangle guard’s presence blocking his way. 024.

“Who was that?”

“New recruit.”

“You don’t sneak into new recruits’ rooms or personally oversee their stay. Who is that?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“I’m…curious.”

“Sounds like jealousy.”

The woman only shrugged. 

“I made whatever was between us clear, 024. Don’t interest yourself in my personal life.”

“Personal?”

He pushed past her, berating himself for giving too much away. But he only had one thing on his mind at the moment and he wanted to be there to watch it. 

You didn’t end up seeing him again for the rest of your time there, falling back into ‘circle guard’ duties. From laundry to cooking and cleaning the arenas, this was much more tame than the excitement you had that first day. 6 nights went by in a blur, moving from one duty to the next. You didn’t actually know what the protocols were like here but some of the other circles were kind enough to show you the ropes. 

Kind. 

Funny word. 

From your interactions you’d learnt that most of them were in similar situations to you, broke and struggling, which really conflicted you but you tried not to think about it. You heard them speak of talks of making routines stricter, limiting interactions between guards. Maybe someone got pregnant. 

At the end of the week there was a celebratory gala that you had to cater at, as the lowest guard rank of course. They switched out your uniforms in favour of sleek black suits and decorative face masks. You saw him then. 

He had a different mask on, but you knew it was him, looking care-free as ever with his arm draped around some girl. All you could think about is what he made you go through, the stuff he put you in. You were so incredibly angry at him for acting like nothing happened at all. You totally spilt wine on him that night, ruining his outfit then scurrying away in giggles to one of the staff rooms. 

You heard he looked for you all night. 

The next time you crossed paths again was the night you were leaving. You only knew it was him because of his number and that obnoxious stance of his. He made you sick. Still hot though, unfortunately. He was standing next to some other guards and a man dressed in all black as they bid all circle guards goodbye. The man in black, who you’d come to learn was the frontman, gave some sappy, thank you for your service type speech and left you on your way. 

You promised yourself you’ll never trust random men in dark alleyways again. 

6. . .6

He remained quiet, allowing the unknown number to identify themselves first. He was, afterall, used to receiving key info from burner phones and unsaved callers.

“Is this supposed to make me feel jealous?”

He smiled, biting his lip a little to prevent himself from alerting his partner. Your voice was music to his ears, a welcome comeback after a little less than 3 months of silence. His wounds were a lot better now, his mind way more set on the goal. For the past weeks he’d been working with 024 to pin you down on the map, attempting to pull on leads and follow weak clues to where you were. You hadn’t been making things easy, he expected no less. You were at least decent enough to leave his car in pristine condition at some junkyard and he was able to retrieve it before they tore it apart. Barely. You were more clever than he often gave you credit for, disappearing without a trace on such short notice, but you were bound to slip up eventually. Currently, he was sat with her at a lively cafe, observing your meeting with a friend of yours. They thought you hadn’t spotted them, leaving shortly after a quick exchange and heading to your motorbike, rented and license plate-less of course, back to your hideout. Following you would be difficult, especially in a vehicle so obvious to you as theirs, so they needed to come up with another way. 

But here you were, dropping it at his feet. 

Amatuere work. 

“Hello again, 038,”

“I suggest you get rid of her.”

“...Or?”

That seemed to shut you up, long enough for him to signal to 024 for help in tracking the number. It was a temporary phone no doubt, but it could give a clue. 

“You need a nanny to help you find me 013?”

He knew you were just trying to rile him up, but his plan was working so he wouldn’t quite give in yet.

“You’re very slippery,”

That earned a chuckle. 

“I warned you.”

The line cut off, but the location was already obtained. And, stupidly enough, it seemed you were keeping the phone on you, giving away your temporary escape. A busted motel in the outskirts of seoul, a place where there's more shady people than not, allowing you to blend right in. You’d done everything right up until now; used cash, avoided cameras, changed your gait but it was jealousy, jealousy that was your ultimate demise. He moved the cup of cold coffee to his lips to avoid the smirk catching the other woman’s attention. 

The location was just as he’d imagined; cheap and with a laughable amount of security. All he had to do was bribe the front desk with a stack and they gave your room number up immediately, 8F, the money probably worth more than your entire stay’s worth. The key felt light in his palm.

“I’ll take the inside, you wait out here in case she gets away.”

“No, I'm coming in with you.”

He sighed, already feeling suffocated in the car at the thought of confronting you again, he’d really rather not have the other woman in there too. 

“And if she manages to escape? Or never even enters the room because she caught us?”

He wasn’t really making sense, prompting 024 to give him a look. 

“From the moment she walks in, I’ll give you 5 minutes. After that I’m coming in to finish the job. I know you won’t.”

He rolled his eyes, opening the door and stepping out into the cool night air. 

“You better not screw each other!” She called out, he pretended not to hear it. 

There was not much inside that caught his eye, the place as unwelcoming as your last one. It was, however, an absolute mess. Clothes strewn about all over, unmade sheets and leftover takeout on the bed. The place was, well, filthy. Very unlike you. On the nightstand sat your notepad, a habit he noticed you always held close. He couldn’t stop himself from looking through it. It was filled with random entries and detailed sketches of everyday items. There was a page for the night you saw each other again, three months ago. The paper was stained with tears.  

He hasn’t changed a bit, still a psycho freak and still so. hot. It’s actually infuriating now. Left my mark on him though, physically and emotionally. My leg hurts like hell, my head too, but you should’ve seen the other guy, haha. 

Seeing him again was…oh I don’t know. Everytime I pretend I’m over him he sneaks back into my mind one way or another. If only he wasn’t trying to kill me. Sigh, maybe in another life we end up together, the normal way. I know I shouldn't, but I miss him. So, so, so, so, so, you get the point, much. I think he missed me too, doubt his pride would let him admit that though. Wait he actually did admit that, but I think he was just talking. I feel so empty, he’s left a print on me I can’t freaking get rid of. He’s trying to K I L L you you idiot, pull yourself together. I should've killed him when I got the chance. But I always wonder, you know? What if he could change? What if we could be? I feel so silly, thinking of white picket fences and wrap around porches with a man who can’t wait to put a bullet through my skull. 

He tried not to let your words get to him, tried to ignore the feeling it made in his chest. Longing. You weren’t the only one dreaming of different circumstances. Though he hates to admit it, he’d been looking for your face in every crowd and your voice in every song. He may be a maniac, sure. But that didn’t stop you from sneaking into his barren heart. What a mess. 

The following page had a drawing of your kiss in the shower, done in pencil and with an amazing attention to detail, reminding him of the exact woman you were before he roped you into his world. He doesn’t regret it though, it gave him the pleasure of knowing you. He ripped the page out, keeping it as his personal souvenir of you. 

He flipped through the next few pages.

Meeting with x at 9;00PM, by the nursery

Flip,

Need to buy some metoprolol, DON’T FORGET!!!!

Flip,

Total spent; 6k! Girl get it together.

Flip,

Saw him again today, he is so fine ffs. 024 was with him, lol. Gonna have to work harder than that to get me mad, babe. 

Flip,

Though it is a bit unfair don’t you think?

That one caught his eye, flip,

2 against one? Low blow.

What? Flip,

Surely you’ve gotten it by now.

His breath grew quicker. Flip, 

If you’re reading this, it’s too late.

See you soon ;)

The smile on his lips remained as he shut the notepad forcefully, feeling himself slowly lose it.He turned on his heel, the journal still in his hands, toward the widow that was covered by blinds. It overlooked the parking lot, allowing him to have a direct view of his car. 

Empty. 

Whatever you had planned involved 024, apparently. His jaw clenched so hard he felt his teeth might shatter. The anger got too much, you were, once again, two steps ahead of him. This time, he genuinely had no idea what you might be up to, or where you were. He yelled in frustration, slamming the notepad against the far wall. But it wasn’t enough. He picked up the bedside lamp and shattered it on the window, pieces of glass flying everywhere, cutting him all over his face and chest. His hands shook as he did a final sweep of the room and adjoining bathroom; no sign of you. This was a setup, and he fell for it. Of course you’re smarter than to leave your location on, so easy to access. He should’ve guessed.

Now though, 

Now this game ends. 

He stormed away to his vehicle, hair a mess and blood staining his shirt. He tried not to feel hurt over the words you wrote, assuming now that you only put them to mess with him. Of course you don’t love him.

He doesn’t either. 

In fact, he can not wait to watch the life drain from behind your eyes as your body lays there helplessly, at his mercy. 

He was in for another surprise at the car though, looking down to find it nearly touching the ground. Slashed tires. These were custom made, you moron. But of course you wouldn’t let him find you that easily, you had to slow him down somehow. He kicked the stupid thing, turning back to wipe a hand over his face and through his hair. He had to think of something, fast. 

4 cheap tires and a long 50 minute drive later, he parked his car carelessly at the foot of his building. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for, only thing he knows is that if the plan went sour, 024 was meant to meet him back here. He gave her a temporary code that his phone notified him of it being used, meaning she was back here. Maybe she overpowered you somehow and brought you back here for him to kill you himself, but why not call? Whatever it was, he knew they’re regrouping now. The 10 second ride up felt longer than usual, the uncertainty of what to expect kept him on edge. He tried 024’s number again and again, nothing. The doors to his place slid open, revealing a dark and empty apartment, though that only worsened his worries. He flicked the lights on and did a quick view of the immediate environment; peaceful. Nothing out of place. Well, nothing except the sleeping figure on his couch. He pulled out his revolver, only 2 bullets inside because of an altercation he got into on his way here. The figure was completely covered and he couldn’t really make out who it was, he approached from behind the couch, shoulders relaxing a little at the sight of 024’s shoes. Then he saw it. 

Blood. 

So so so much blood. Dripping from the body down to stain his perfectly white carpet. He moved the cover quickly, cringing a little at the sight. It was 024, slashed and torn from multiple places, a handful of bullet wounds all around. She was still breathing, somehow, though she was definitely unconscious. He saw something move out of the corner of his eye on the upper floor, making the hair on his arms stand up. He whipped around quickly, but his gun was shot out of his hands before he could do anything. 

You emerged from your hiding like some cartoonish villain, twirling the gun in your hands a few times before blowing off imaginary smoke. You rested against the black railing, giving him a clear look of your face. Bloodied, bruised with a few cuts, but so cocky. 

“Surprise!” You said in a sing-song voice.

“Missed me?”

7. . .7

The bar was less busy than usual, regulars turning in for the night rather than stay their normal hours, leaving you and just a few more patrons who were closing their tab for the night. It was nice like this, quiet. No big fights or smashed glass, just a few drinks and counter wipe-downs. The days seemed to have been blending together these past weeks, routine just barely changing, if at all. You were at peace with all this though, guilt of the blood on your hands slowly being washed away with the ordinary day-to-day. 

Money though, now that’s another issue. 

The not so small payout you’d gotten was always on your mind, seeing as to how your life greatly improved afterwards. You slept more soundly at night, knowing that the next meal will be warm and within reach. Sure, it didn’t really affect your debt on the grand scale of things, but it did make you more comfortable. You know you shouldn’t consider going back, calling that number again and putting in a better effort, you were better than this. Better than killing for dirty cash. 

Or you tried to be anyway. 

The bar had been barren for almost an hour, but you had to stay open for at least another two, management’s orders. You could risk it, just leave and deal with it next time, but you preferred having a stable source of income to gambling it. You hadn’t heard anyone come in, not even that obnoxious bell by the door. You had your back to the bartop, inspecting the bottles with hyper focus, trying to decide if you should re-arrange them..for fun. Or boredom. But you were taken out of your trance by a firm knock on the bar behind you. You turned around only for your eyes to meet his. 

“You.” You sneered, causing him to smile a little.

“Missed you.” 

Your expression didn’t falter, pure anger evident on your face. You crossed your arms over your chest, unsure what to do now.  You hadn’t seen him since that day, 2 months ago. He looked so different in this lighting, almost like a normal person, rather than a mass murderer. The grey shirt he wore was two sizes too small for him, suffocating his biceps. His hair was neat, as it usually is and he wore a pair of black combat pants, with boots to match, he almost looked human. 

“What the hell do you want?”

He raised his arms up in a mock surrender, “Just wanted to see how you’re doing, that’s all.”

“I’m well, you can leave now.”

“Oof, ice cold.” he pretended to get stabbed in the heart and you huffed in annoyance.

“I wanted to talk to you actually, but how about we make it fun. Let’s play poker-”

“I will not be doing that.”

“How about pool then?”

That got you thinking. With poker, a liar like him would easily beat you, but you were pretty good at pool, meaning you could beat him at whatever his ulterior motives were. It’s not like you had anything better to do anyway. Realistically though, you should be telling him to piss off, not allowing him access to you again. But that charm of his…unfortunately difficult to resist. 

“Sure,” you sighed. 

“But we need to make it interesting. How about this; everytime someone gets a ball in, they can ask the other person a question. If the person refuses to answer then they have to-”

“Strip.” You pushed past him to set the table up. 

“Bold. I was going to say take a shot but, as you please.” he smiled. 

You set the balls in their place and handed him a stick. 

“Ladies first,” ever the gentleman, you rolled your eyes. 

Conversation between plays was kept to a minimum, the place was so silent, filled only with the sounds of balls rolling and colliding. You got the first point in. He gestured with his hands, almost like he was a bit excited, then leaned onto his stick, awaiting your question.  

“What’s your real name?” You smirked a bit, knowing that his body is about to go on display. He sighed loudly before resting the stick to the side, arms coming to pull his shirt off of his head, revealing a very toned, well-looked after chest. 

He whistled “Eyes up here.” smirking a little. This atmosphere allowed you to loosen up, quipping back at him with

“Nice tits.”

He won the next point. 

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

So your apron came off. 

“Oh come on now, no cheating,” he winked, prompting you to unbutton your work top as well. 

He whistles again, “Anything else you hiding down there?” 

“You’ll just have to work hard to find out”

The next few rounds were spent blocking each other’s wins, the air was getting tenser with neither of you willing to break the silence between, neither of you wanting to strip nor spill. Well that was broken by a smug victory smile on his face, you slumped a bit, ready to likely have to strip again. You stared at him and you could almost catch the amusement behind his eyes, like the question had been eating up at him for a bit. 

“Was that your first kill?”

Of course that’s what he wants to know. It wasn’t, but you’d put that part behind you a while ago, hoping to never fall back into old habits, blood money. You’d built up a new life for yourself, albeit a bit pathetic compared to how you used to lavishly spend. You’d strayed so far away from your old ways, you’d almost started to believe you were a good person. Almost. 

“Yes.” You breathed out. 

“Strip.”

“What?”

“I said strip.”

“No I heard you- I answered the question; I’m not stripping.”

He stalked towards you, a sure and entertained look on his face. 

“Liar.”

“I don’t follow?”

“That was most certainly not your first kill, you were way too comfortable with that trigger. Fast too. Would’ve taken a little more hesitation from someone clean, don’t you think? I mean-”

He laughed, bringing his free hand up to squeeze his lips. He leaned on the table only inches away from you. “You killed those people no problem, headshots and all. Anyone else would’ve shot one or two at most, you capped off at 76, almost as high as my high score! Very-”

“You had a gun to my side you ass,”

“Wasn’t loaded.”

“What?”

“Wasn’t loaded. If you gave a little more resistance I would’ve let it go, let you go. I would never shoot my new favourite thing so early on. I’ve still got plenty of ways to break you and you’ve still got plenty of ways to disappoint me.”

The air in the room was getting tighter, the way he spoke made you gag, your eyes held his with disgust. You knew he was just toying with you, that the gun was more than likely loaded with bullets with your name on them, and that he was just trying to put the blame on you. You tried not to let him get to you, with that satisfied smile and look of admiration he had on at the moment, but it was difficult. 

What if?

What if your finger hadn’t been so itchy in the trigger? What if he wasn’t lying?

Someone else would’ve killed them dummy, don’t let him mess with your head. 

Yeah, but the blood wouldn’t be on your hands. 

The rest of his words registered then. ‘ I would never shoot my new favourite thing so early on. I’ve still got plenty of ways to break you and you’ve still got plenty of ways to disappoint me’

Who does this dude think he is? He’s got you all up in your thoughts conflicted between what you see and what you hear. You could swear he was blushing a little. 

What kink is this? Weirdo. 

“Who do you think you are?” You picked up one of the balls and angrily threw at him with full force, aiming for that big head of his. 

He caught it.  

“I’m not your thing, and I think you should leave.” 

You began to walk away, setting the stick to the side. 

“So it wasn’t your first kill,” 

“Piss off,” 

He quickly got in front of you to block your little escape. 

“You are so very entertaining,”

“Don’t you have something better to do with your life,”

“I do. You can say this is my new hobby.”

“Seek therapy.”

He pouted “You think I’m crazy?”

“A psycho actually.” 

“I’m very flattered.”

“Of course you are,” you rolled your eyes, stepping past him to find your long discarded top. 

“Didn’t it feel good though? All that money.” He called out, taking a few steps in your direction. 

It did, it really did. You faltered a bit. Warm meals and hot showers were a luxury you didn’t realise, along with paid off prescriptions. The fat stack they handed you had left you way more than comfortable, stress about bills gone for a nice period of time. It was the only thing, the only reason, you hadn’t ran away from him until now. The money. You knew it was wrong, to be willing to kill again to have a roof over your head that isn’t leaking, but the comfort was so tempting. Your hands picked up your blouse and began buttoning it, trying to come up with some escape so that his words don’t find their way into your mind. It was difficult, this internal monologue fighting itself, and he could tell. 

“You aren’t as moral as you pretend you are, you know?” He chuckled, but you still had your back to him, still refusing to talk. After finishing your top, you picked up his shirt and turned to toss it at him, surprised to see him standing very close to you now. You tensed a bit at the proximity and shoved his shirt into his bare chest. 

“Don’t come looking for me again.” You tried to sound sure of yourself. 

“Or?” He pulled his shirt over himself, messing his hair up even more in the process.

“Is this what you came here tonight for? A game of pool and one worded replies?”

You moved behind the bar to grab your things. You knew he won’t let you go that easily, you’ll either have to kill him or yourself. Or fake your death and change your name, again. 

“I came with an offer actually,”

“I’m not killing more people, you creep.”

“Is it fun to call me every name in the book?”

“I don’t know what you’re actually called, so, yeah.”

“No killing involved this time,” he sighed from the other side of the bar and you shot him a questioning look. He threw his hands up in surrender, “I promise,”

“Oh good, your word means so much to me.”

He made a betrayed expression with his face, lips pouting a little and brows furrowing in sadness. You only stared in annoyance. 

“Goodbye, weirdo.”

“We need a helping hand in training new recruits, shooters. I’m sure you could guess why we have a high worker turnover. You’ll only be helping them shoot targets, not humans. Not animals either.” He cut you off before you even spoke, “It’ll be good pay, you might have to help with a few other duties as well. The rules are a lot more relaxed between games, in relation to masks and uniforms. I knew you couldn’t stand them.”

“I would still be helping someone kill someone; a killer by proxy.”

“Don’t go pretending to be noble now, you’re already a killer.” He rolled his eyes, getting a little mad. “Plus if you don’t do it, someone else will. These ‘people’ will die anyway. Might as well get paid for it.”

You paused for a beat. He was, unfortunately, making a good point, to you at least. You were a killer, hands stained with more red than he could imagine, what’s another shade deeper at this point. That or you starve in a cycle of debt and pitiful repayments. 

“Why me? Why not someone more willing?”

That was the first time this whole night that he stuttered. Opening his mouth and closing it, trying to find something to say to your question. That caught you off guard, you’d never seen him so…flustered?

Oh.

OH.

“Someone’s got a crush,” you giggled in a sing-song voice, your coat snug around you as you moved close to him, swaying a little, until you were face to face. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m just…intrigued by you.”

“Intrigued oh-” you couldn’t stop giggling. “Oh you wanna sleep with me so bad.”

That shut him up, fully, instead just keeping his gaze cast on your face, momentarily jumping to your lips then back up. He didn’t even try to deny it. Leverage, you’ve got leverage over this hot piece of work. Bingo. He was smiling with his jaw tensed forcefully, attempting self control-you guessed. 

“Your higher-ups know you’re here, 013?”

Once again, no reply. You moved in closer, just so your lips were barely brushing his. 

“Where’s your tough guy act now, hmm?”

You pulled away after a beat, watching as his lips chased yours for a second, but failed. 

“I’ll think about it.” You sped a little towards the exit, leaving him with a problem he’ll have to take care of himself. 

8. . .8

He observed as you descended the steps lazily, shrugging off your coat to reveal a very provocative dress underneath. 

“You wore that to a gunfight?” he questioned the ridiculousness of it all. 

“Of course not, it's freezing out.” You chuckled, moving towards his discarded gun. “But you took so long and I got bored. You sure know how to keep a lady waiting”

His jaw clenched as you picked up the weapon and moved towards the open kitchen. He took the moment with your back to him to quickly grab the spare gun under his couch; one of many around the place. But the moment it came into his hands, he could tell something was wrong. It was empty, the glock’s amo cartilage taken out of it. He stared at the thing in defeat, turning around to find you with a smug expression on your face. 

“I wouldn’t bother with the rest of them by the way. Or the knives, though I know you can’t aim those to save your life anyway.” you smiled. “Can we not just have a nice night, like normal people?”

“My ex is dead on the couch.”

“Oh she isn’t dead.” you snorted, then your expression suddenly dropped. “Why does this bother you anyway?”

There it was, jealousy. It was such a lovely colour on you, filling him with butterflies. Your jaw tensed, your legs moving closer to where he was.

“You jealous?” he chuckled. 

“No, just possessive.”

“Same thing.”

“It wasn’t ‘same thing’ when it was you speaking, no?”

He laughed a little, a smile finding its way onto his lips. He wanted to get it all over with, get rid of you. But something about how you looked in this light, at this hour, some blood on your body born from desire. He saw something then, a future perhaps. You were so similar, two souls meant to be. He couldn't help but allow himself to indulge in you tonight, just this once he’ll let his resolve crumble in favour of his hunger. He drank in your appearance, eyes stopping at all the scratches all over. He wanted to kiss it all better, wipe the stains from your skin. Your eyes scanned him as well, finding the cuts from the glass from earlier. You both stood there in silence, leaning into eachother’s warmth subconsciously. He captured your lips with his with the force of years of yearning, your hands coming up to find his face-

A groan stopped you both, the injured woman behind you struggling to pick herself up. You rolled your eyes, turning your head to shoot her square in the face, ending her run immediately. You turned back to him, a look of lust and admiration painted all over his face. 

“Where have your manners gone, sweetheart?” he pretended to be upset. “I mean-really? My white carpet, my tires, you’re milking me dry.”

“Wanted to leave my mark.”

“I think…” he hesitated. “I think you’ve already done that.”

There was a moment, where just everything seemed so normal, regular. Like you two were star crossed lovers who met at the wrong time. Like, if you two worked hard enough, you could have a life of laundry and burnt pancakes. 

You slammed your lips onto his once more with desperation and want, air being sucked out of your lungs with passion. Your hand came up to rest on his chest and he winced, causing you to break apart once more. 

“We should get you cleaned up, there could be some shards inside.”

He chuckled, “After you.”

You sat in the balcony, the air a lot cooler from how high up you were. He poured you a pretty glass of aged red wine.

“How do I know this isn’t poisoned?”

“Poisoned? You think I’d stoop low enough to poison. That is such a lazy way to kill, you know I’d rather have my fun.”

 You worked a soaked gauze on the cuts littering his chest, one particular one having a few shards that you had to pick out of the wound. Nothing needed stitches though. He rested a warm hand on your bare thigh, eyes watching the knot in your brows form in concentration, a sheet of sweat and dirt dried over your face. You avoided his gaze in nervousness, fearing your heart may break out of your chest. He grabbed your forearm, noticing the deep cut in it.

“This needs stitches.”

“It’s ok I’ll do it later-”

“No. It’ll get infected if you leave it like this, let me.”

So you switched roles, sitting back to watch his attentiveness to your pain, hand more gentle than he ever was with anyone or anything ever. Afraid to hurt you. Everytime that needle pierced your skin, you’d tense, to which he’d apologise. Every time. It was like something was different that night, the occasional distant car horn being the only other break in the silence. He finished you up and wrapped your arm, kissing your hand afterwards. His lips were rough and broken on your equally calloused skin, dreary eyes looking up at you. There was a sadness to it all, knowing this won’t-can’t last. Doomed by the narrative, you two were destined to end prematurely. But you pushed it all to the back of your mind, willing yourself to just enjoy the night to come. But first, 

“We should burn the body.” You looked over through the glass at the now permanently red stained area. He leaned back on his chair next to yours, spreading his legs until he got comfortable. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, pants hugging his knees as the jacket hung loosely around your bare shoulders. Sighing, he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket along with a lighter, covering the flame to light the smoke. 

“Yes, that would be best.” he inhaled a puff, blowing it out towards the night sky. 

“You won’t offer me one? Chivalry really is dead.” you teased. He turned to you, firm grip grasping your chin to bring it to his face. He took another inhale then tapped his thumb on your bottom lip and you obliged, opening your mouth to allow him to exhale into it. He then slotted his lips against yours once more, recycling the same breath. He repeated all this a few times, till the cigarette was burnt out, once your breath and the next his, a little game of who could taste sweeter. 

“Let's go take care of that.” His forehead rested on yours, but neither of you moved. Another blanket of silence

“We should-”

“Yeah.”

You don’t really know what’s with the awkwardness all of a sudden. You two moved in tandem to transport the dead woman to the little furnace, blood staining both of your bodies. You watched the flames dance around the corpse, the day’s events weighing on your soul, causing you to lean onto him for support. He stood rigid, arms crossed as his breathing slowed with your touch. You hugged yourself for a little warmth, before taking a deep breath to break the silence. 

“Are you still going to kill me?” 

He sighed, “I have no other option, you killed 024, they’ll have my head otherwise.”

“We could run away,” You stood back up and his hand came to rub his eyes, already not convinced with whatever you wanted to say. “We could leave Seoul, leave korea all together and-”

“And go where? Huh? Run for the rest of our lives?”

“I’ll figure something out, we could go anywhere in the world 013-”

“They’ll find us.”

“We’ll change our names and-”

“Where would we get the money?”

“Same way I always did, odd jobs and daily wages.”

“We’d be dirt poor.”

“But we’d have each other.”

As cheesy as it sounds, you really thought you two could be something more, something permanent. No-one got you like he did, no-one got him like you did. 

“Why did you come here tonight 038?”

Tears had built up in the corners of your eyes. “I don’t know I just- I thought you could change, that we could be.”

“You meant it? What you wrote in that notebook? White picket fences and wrap around porches?”

“Yes! Of course I did.” The emotion had leaked from your eyes and streamed down your face. He cast his gaze to the floor, avoiding your sad eyes. 

“But you know it won’t be like that, we’d have to slave for our next meal.”

“I don’t mind.” You sniffed.

“I do!” He yelled out suddenly, brushing a hand through his hair and panting in an attempt to compose himself. “I can’t go back to that, 038, I can’t. I don’t- want to. I love my job, I have never felt more fulfilled, ever-”

“You send people to their deaths!”

“They deserve it! Don’t you get it? It’s the one system where they get what they deserve. They could choose not to go. Chose to get up off their ass and crawl their way out, but they chose to-”

“The system doesn’t work that way.”

“It did for me!”

“That’s cause you have charm and a pretty face, 013, you got lucky.”

“It was not luck.”

“Yes it was! The sooner you realise this the sooner you’ll be face to face with the fact that they’d replace you the moment you die.”

“I’m not abandoning my dream life, that is final. So if that’s what you were here for, then go.”

You turned away, makeup running all over your cheeks, but it took him all of 1 second to change his mind, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back into him. His eyes were glassy as he pushed you up against the wall, his hands tangling in your hair as his mouth sought you out once more. Rough, desperate and aching, that’s what this kiss was. You let yourself get lost in his smell as he placed open mouthed kisses on your shoulder. His eyes came up to meet yours for a moment and you both knew what this was. Your final night together, that’s for sure.

Might as well go out with a bang. 

His muscles were sore the next morning, he was never really one for sleeping in, but your touch had left more than just surface bruises on him. He got up slowly, finding his phone barren of any indication of the boss finding out what happened, for now anyway. The cold water helped wake him up fully as he recalled last night’s events, cuts burning a little causing a shiver to dance down his body. He slumped against the sink, bloodshot eyes in the mirror stared at him with determination. 024 wasn’t any help, no. He needs to play dirty, do things his way.

Next time he sees you, either one of you will end up dead. 

9. . .9

The gala was in full swing, a celebration of yet another successful round of games. You stood off to the side, a drink in hand long forgotten. The gown you were wearing was quite a sight, adorned with hand embroidery and fine stitching that you would otherwise never be unable to afford. It was meant to make you more appealing to the guests of honor; the rich men behind this all. The mask on your face was itchy, but it was better than the dumbass one they usually have you wear. It only covered the top half of your face, allowing you a much more comfortable experience, and a nicer voice. Most of the time, these galas were a gateway for these men to enjoy some of the staff before they departed to their respective countries. You were always spoken for though, 013 making sure none laid hand on you except him, of course. You knew how this night always ends between you two, a week’s worth of pent up frustration on both ends with no other way of contact except short nods in hallways. Usually by this time you two would be sneaking off for your own celebration, but tonight, 013 had been the centre of attention. Praises showered him from VIPs and guards alike, congratulating him on his one of a kind achievement. “He shot his own father?” “Yeah! No hesitation!” “His self control is so admirable.” “Hope I can get to his level one day.” “He’s so hot too, truly has it all” “Is he still with that-”

You zoned back out. 

They were bumping him up to ‘recruiter’, a position you were unfamiliar with. He’d refused square/head guard positions, citing them being way too ‘desk job like’ for him. You two hadn’t really talked since his achievement, it all left a sour taste in your mouth. This wasn’t envy-no, this was the realization that the man you were slowly falling in love with was so far gone. So out of it that he shot his own father. You were familiar with their relationship, he was just a poor man’s son. His father was a hard worker, though it never amounted to anything, that’s where the resentment grew. You could tell that 013 was so deluded with this so-called system that he held a grudge against his own father for not being rich. You couldn’t convince him that this ‘get rich quick’ scheme only worked for him by chance. Only worked for you by chance. He cut that awkward conversation short with a little more than a kiss, so you abandoned the topic, seeing as he was unwilling to push it further. 

He would shoot you too, if he felt like it. If he felt you’re deserving enough. That was your rude awakening. The only difference between you and his father is that he approached you under different circumstances. Had it been a different person, an actual recruiter back then perhaps, you’d be dead. For sure. It was only chance that you ended up on the other side of the gun. 

You’d already been toying with the idea of running away, leaving it all behind and starting over again. Avoiding trouble for real this time. Maybe you’d even snitch on their whole operation. You have enough evidence, polaroids and such, of the place, the deaths. You could attempt to put an end to it all, the weight of the innocent lives lost on this island was beginning to get to you. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back, your sign to leave it all behind. 

You can’t pretend you won’t miss him though. 

During your years working here, you’d grown impossibly closer. Bunking together secretly during the games and him finding you after. Always. You’re not sure if you could label it, since you never really discussed it, but no-one approached you and no-one approached him. You were both unofficially off limits.

 In a better world, you’d call it love. 

He showed you parts of him no one else had ever seen, swore up and down that his name was a fact lost to the test of time, and held you in his arms as you cried. He always knew how to make it all better; the  guilt, shame. You try not to let yourself wonder how things would’ve been if you’d met him earlier, before all this. If you could’ve somehow saved him from the lie he was living, built a life for the two of you far far away from all this death. He loved cats, though he wouldn’t admit he loved anything in this world. There was a certain softness in how he handled strays that would cross your path, he treated you like that, too. Sometimes. You’d have a house full of kittens with him if he’d let you. Best not to dwell on it, seeing as he was being fawned over by everyone at the event. It was too late for him now, but  maybe you could save yourself.  You spent the rest of the night in the corner, people watching, and he spent the rest of the night being swept away from your proximity by fans. 

By the end of the party, you walked back to your room barefoot, heals in hand to avoid sore feet later. It would be best to slip away tonight, before any attention is drawn to you. It wasn’t forbidden to leave, but 013 knows you won’t be quiet, leave peacefully. He’d either force you to stay or convince the higher ups to kill you, now that that's so easy for him to do. You needed to make your getaway tonight, allowing some distance before he starts hunting you down. With everyone high on festivities, you were sure no-one would stop you. In your room, you’d packed up all your belongings that they’d allowed you to bring, along with all the cash you could find. It wasn’t a lot, but you’ve survived with less. You knew where they kept spare speed boats for emergencies, and the air was clear enough to give you a smooth ride. Yes, it was perfect, all of it. 

Tonight had to be your getaway. 

A knock on your door pulled you out of the excitement, tensing a little, as it could only ever be one person. You opened the door slightly, allowing only yourself to be viewed and not your escape backpack. It was him, 013, glowing from the party’s flattery. His mask was off and he had a shotgun slung over his shoulder, still wearing his party clothes; a nice dress shirt, unbuttoned to his belly button and a pair of beige pants. You didn’t say anything, fearing that your voice would betray you. You weren’t as good of a liar as he was, and he’d be able to smell you out if he lingered for long enough. He leaned on the door frame, a smile crept up his face.

“Well, you looked gorgeous tonight” he slurred a little, clearly tipsy from all the drinks he was offered. It caused you to giggle.

“You didn’t look so bad yourself.” you bit your lip. “Congrats on your uh- promotion” 

“Gonna treat you to something real nice with it,” he winked, laughing to himself. 

“013, are you- ok? I know everyone is celebrating, but this is quite a heavy thing that you did, do you wanna-”

“I’m fine, better than ever actually. Some of the triangles and I are going shooting,” he pointed to the shotgun. “Join me-us?”

“I’m calling it in for tonight actually,”

“What’s wrong?”

Shoot, he’s sobering up.

“Nothing, just tired.”

“Well if you let me in, I’ll make you feel better.”

You tensed, he noticed. “No uh, you wanted to go shooting, no? You should enjoy your big night.”

“Who’s in the room?”

“What? No-one, what are you on-”

He pushed past you, finding no-one, like you said, instead spotting your getaway bag by the door. Your hands shook, he had his back to you so you weren’t able to read his expression. You moved to the bag, zipping it up and trying to save face. 

“Just packing up for next week.”

“A whole 5 days before we leave?”

“I like a tidy room.”

“I suggest you stop lying to me.”

He had turned to face you, bag in your hand as you stood by the slightly opened door. You swallowed your fears, knowing there's no way out of this situation except through it. 

“I…don’t want to do this anymore.”

“What? The games? No one is forcing you to come back, you do that out of your complete free will.”

“I know but, it’s all too much, I want to leave, now.”

He stared at you for a moment, tongue pushing the inside of his cheek as he pieced your story together. 

“You’re going to rat us out.” he stalked towards you, grabbing the gun off his shoulder. 

You took that as your cue to-

“Run sweetheart, cmon, make this entertaining. Run.”

So you did, through winding passageways and long, empty halls, you ran with all your might. You weren’t out of shape; much more agile and faster than he was, allowing you a good space between you two, but the adrenaline and fear of it all made your lungs burn. You made it out of the building complex without hearing a single shot ring out. This was way too easy. 

You headed through the woods straight to the emergency dock, leaping over bushes and fallen trees left and right. You had made it all the way to the sheds near the boats when you spotted him. 

He must’ve taken a shortcut, must’ve known you were coming through here. He had the gun cocked in his hand, it was a disadvantage for sure, the smaller gun in your possession easier and faster to shoot with. But just as you don’t miss no matter the weapon, he doesn’t either. It worried you, how willing he would be to shoot you dead. But it can’t end here, you won’t allow it. The air was humid this time of year, causing your desperate breaths to be inefficient. You figured taking him head-on would be useless, you needed to-

He whipped around suddenly, gun aimed at your head. 

“Found you.”

You got up with your hands in surrender, a little defeated at your failed escape. 

“Come here.”

You obeyed, avoiding the last few lines of bushes before it turned into sand. He didn’t ask you to stop, allowing you to reach all the way to feel his breath on your face. 

“I can forgive you for this, but-”

But you had one more trick up your sleeve. You slammed the gun in your hand onto his head, banking on the alcohol from earlier already making him loopy, effectively knocking him out. You wasted no time in rushing to one of the boats, turning the keys into the ignition and starting the loud machinery. Victory was within reach. 

Bang!

You had your back turned to him, so you hadn’t seen nor heard him get up and stalk towards you. He was standing just off the side of the boat, shotgun emitting some smoke from where he fired it. It had hit you in the abdomen, shots dispersing only a little due to his proximity. You fell back onto the wheel, bringing a hand up to push the boat forward. 

He watched you disappear into the night, not attempting to attack again.

10. . .10

ALT ENDING (FLUFF)

He watched through the scope as the car approached his made up end spot. Welcome to the final show. The car you picked out was unassuming, grey and very much a family car but he caught your alias pretty easily. You were speeding down an empty backcountry road, almost at your sweet sweet escape, not on his watch though. He shot the bullet, hitting your tires immediately, causing the car to flip over into a nearby ditch. He abandoned his position, taking his gun with him to ensure the job is done. The wreck caught up in flames, the light from the fire casting a yellow glow onto the surroundings. He approached your position under the turned-over car. Your back was to the ground as your hands were reaching for your gun, but it was too far away, plus he kicked it from your line of sight with his polished shoe. You panted, looking down at your immovable lower body with defeat. He watched you, so helpless and at his mercy and he couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Just a little. 

“Bad time to say that suit looks great on you?” You coughed. “Brings your face out.”

“Get up.” he kicked your side softly, causing you to cough more. 

“Way to kick a woman when she’s down.”

The heat from the flames was becoming unbearable, even in the cool spring night air. The fire was inching closer to where you were, and he’d really rather not have to hear you burn to death.

“Get. Up.” He picked your gun back up, tossing it at your side once more, allowing you a ‘fair fight’.

“I can’t-” a sob got caught in your throat. “I can’t feel my legs.”

The crackle and whooshing of the fire were the only sounds heard, both of you silent as the situation set in. You didn’t have it in you to fight, to grab the gun and shoot him, because you were already dead. Tears began streaming down your face, sobs wracking your already battered and bruised body. He stood there with his hands at his sides, hesitant and awkward. He hadn’t imagined it being this easy, this quick, hadn’t pictured you going down without a fight. 

Hadn’t truly come to terms at the thought of losing you, permanently. 

“Cmon now, don’t give up so easily.” His voice shook, the weight of his actions slowly dawning on him. 

“I can’t- 013, I-” You were fully crying now, “I don’t want to go like this.”

He knew what you meant, the fire was likely already at some part of you. He dropped his weapon, hurrying over to attempt to lift the car a little to give you crawl space. The metal of the door burnt his hands, but he endured, for you. 

You made it out, crawling on your cut up forearms and collapsing when your legs were free. You couldn’t see them, obviously, but he could. They had burns and deep wounds all over, he could see the bone in a few places from the severity of the cuts. They were also twisted and contorted in terrible ways, meaning multiple breaks and fractures. It was a good thing you couldn’t feel them. 

Your breaths had become wheezes, more desperate gasps for air. He felt dizzy, his eyes welling up with tears. 

“Come- Come on now sweetheart,” he sniffed. “Let me help you up.”

He doesn't know why he did that, why he supported your upper body with his since your legs couldn’t. You rested your head on his chest, your body slumping a little from lack of leg support. You sobbed into his shirt, afraid and in pain. The stupid car’s radio sputtered on, playing some slow classical song that was filled with static due to bad service. You chuckled between sobs.

“How poetic.” You looked up at him, eyes finally meeting the one’s of the man that took your life. He began swaying you two gently to the tune, arms doing their best to keep you up. You looked at him with so much sincerity, admiration, as if he wasn’t the one that’s been trying to kill you all this time. 

“We would’ve made quite the couple you and I, 013. I wish that I could’ve met you sooner, kept you from all the horrors they let you stain your hands with.”

That’s when it all got too much for him. 

Now more than ever, he wanted to sweep you away, take you to some remote countryside and build that stupid house you wanted with his own bare hands. He wanted to wake up next to your sleeping figure, rush to make you breakfast before you got up to scold him as to why he wasn’t in bed. He wanted to hold your hand on bad days and listen to your endless lame jokes. He wanted his every moment to be filled with your air. The years you two had spent together may have not been conventional, but, for the first time in his life, someone got him. Someone understood him for what he was, not what he was pretending to be. You’d brought so much life into his days that it completely changed him. People would tell him he’d gotten softer, and though he would deny it, you must’ve had some invisible print on his actions. He should’ve spent his days protecting you, warding off evil like some knight. Should’ve grown old with you, watched you croak and grey, instead he has to watch the life drain from your eyes in this very moment.

It was only now he’d realised how deep a scar your death would leave, and he brought it on himself. 

“Hey- keep your eyes open for me” he tapped a little on your cheek, hoping to prolong your final dance for a little bit. 

No ambulance would make it in time, you’d already lost way too much blood. 

You smiled at him, “Kiss me.”

He didn’t waste time in humouring your request, capturing your lips in a matter too gentle for who he was. 

You pulled back for a moment, both of your foreheads touching and eyes shut. 

“I love you.” You croaked, finding his lips again. 

“I love you too.” His tears mixed in with yours, seeping into the kiss with their salty awakening.

He wanted to cry out, now more than ever regret had taken over his soul, but nothing came. He had nothing to offer you; no ambulance, no pain relief and no escape.

“I’m sorry-“ he choked, “I’m so so sorry, sweetheart. I should have- I-” he was struggling to find the words, to articulate his remorse and self hatred in the moment. To make it all better. You only looked at him with so much love in your eyes, as if you were seeing right through him, as if he was the man you wanted him to be. The years you two shared were nothing short of cinematic, he longed to jump back into any of the moments you shared now, un-do it all. It was too much, you tried to ease his turmoil by shushing him softly, shaking your head to stop his rambling.

“It’s ok. It’s ok.” You soothed.

You were leaving, and taking a huge piece of his cold, cold heart with you. You’d left him with so much, and in return, he gave you nothing. It was as if enlightenment had befell him in that moment, allowing him to give you the one piece of himself he’d kept from everyone. Of course, how could he forget.

“My name is-” but by the time he’d put together what he wanted to tell you, you’d gone limp in his arms.

The music from the car sputtered to a stop as the new day’s sun began peeking out from the horizon. This was it. You were dead. He got what he wanted, only to realise what he really wanted too late. He collapsed with your corpse by the wreck, tears dried up and hands shaking uncontrollably. He was covered in your blood, everywhere. His palms, his nails, his face, the shirt. It was the whisper he had of you. He stared at your limp body, still as beautiful as the day he laid eyes on you. He wished he’d never walked into that stupid bar, then you’d still be alive.

He didn’t have much in this world, his character a tough one to handle, but he had you. Used to, anyway. He recalled your words from earlier, about the system that was bound to fail and replace him. He has nothing but that system now, nothing else to give his life to. He wouldn’t ever be able to give what he gave you to anyone else anyway.

“Good work, 013.”

That’s all he got in return for ending your life, the mission file being wiped clean moments later. On his way out, people would congratulate him, pat him on the back for cutting off the last human part of himself. He couldn’t speak, only giving them tense smiles in return. Back at his place, he’d stare at himself in the reflection in the glass, sat by his neatly made bed where he had you last. He hadn’t anticipated the quiet that followed your goodbye.

It was strange, really. Considering you weren’t usually around to drown out the silence with your laughter. But it was the loud thought of you that had kept him distracted.

He fell back into routine, running errands and doing tasks for the games, taking his anger and self loathing out on the participants, never fully being able to recover from your loss.

No one came to your funeral; there was no-one to invite in the first place. He held it mostly for himself, burying the body he was meant to burn, giving you a proper rest. He looked through your records for a long long time, finding himself faltering at every picture of you. For his own peace of mind; he wiped it all. Burnt all the physical copies, keeping only that notebook of yours from the motel. He’d love to say something cheesy like ‘it rained the day of your funeral’ but it didn’t, he held his black umbrella under bright sunlight. That’s what you were, he guesses, warm. He stood there solitarily, he was the likely the last person that will ever speak your name.

And you didn’t even know his.

Nice ending 🤧

[glitchedcosmos]

Season 3 prediction

[fangomango]

"I weep now not for our failed partnership, but for the golden opportunity thrown away"

Hey Ford buddy

You can say you missed your boyfriend

[toaro-star]

Man art.(I HAVE AN HYPERFIXATION ON DANDY’S WORLD HELP)

Mwehehe I’m not coloring tge two last doodle in the goob drawing and you ain’t doing anything about it >:)

Goodbye ☆ :》

[lantasyfife]

I like to headcanon that part of the reason Port Puerto is named that is because the pirates were generally more fluent in one language and the aristocrats the other. Maybe it was a running joke at some point to use both words, and then it kinda stuck.

I think that in their world it would be more akin to a very distinct dialect, or maybe just a lingua franca with a large percentage of the same language the aristocrats use. Like to the aristocrats it's *mostly* their language but theres pronunciation differences and a lot of borrowed words/phrases. Maybe when the pescados came into power they had it recognized officially.

[thatoneandlonelyemo2005]

Medda always let Jack stay at her theater under any circumstances. Most of the time, he was quiet or constantly changing the subject if talked too. But a few times he would cry. Right into her arms.

She knew of his parents and the horrors he went through at refuge. She just made sure to always be there for him. Especially when crying. Usually, he ends up in her lap or her arms wrapped tightly around him. Softly sighing to him so he can calm down.

The balcony was always theirs. It was quiet and home to him. Then Medda noticed another boy with Jack around the same age. He was quick with his mouth and had Jack Kelly wrapped around his finger. Even if Jack did cry, this boy always helped him as she's done to him. And she's never been more grateful that Jack had found himself a loving partner.

[silverwhittlingknife]

hi Silver! o/ because that fanart made me wonder - would you happen to know when/where Dick's stuffed elephant plush Zitka turns up in the comics?

GREETINGS CAM <3333 THAT ART WAS SO CUTE

Yeah, I think your instincts are right - it's a truly adorable bit of transformative fandom, but I'm 95% percent sure it's not comics canon. Barbara has canon plushies, but I don't think anyone else does.

I got kinda invested in the investigation (it's hard to prove a negative!) and I ended up typing out an entire History of Elinore/Zitka, so, uh, if you're curious, meet me below the cut for:

Where does Elinore / Zitka - the animal - appear in comics?

Did Dick ever have a stuffed elephant toy in comics?

Where does Elinore / Zitka appear in comics?

We're gonna go in chronological order!

Dick's circus elephant friend was first created for practical reasons: in Batman 436, Marv Wolfman does a big expanded flashback to Dick's circus backstory as a way to subtly show us Tim before officially introducing him (so that we can have a technically-solvable mystery-of-Tim's-identity in LPoD). In this comic, there's an elephant named Elinore who loves Dick:

Aww. Such a cute elephant!

Batman 436 comes out in August 1989. New Titans 60 comes out a few months later, in November, and guess what? When Dick visits the circus, he is suddenly surprised by an unexpected blast from the past! It turns out that even though it's been years, Elinore still remembers him!

Here's the part where Elinore remembers Dick:

SUCH a cute elephant. I love her.

(Guess who else still remembers Dick even though it was so long ago. Guess which other character is about to be an unexpected blast from the past. Guess which character Elinore is directly paralleling guess guess guess sorry everything is about Dick and Tim in my mind but I can focus I swear)

Four years later, in 1993, Batman: The Animated Series retells Dick's origin story. They like and keep Wolfman's elephant, but they change her name to Zitka:

Wolfman doesn't return to the elephant beyond those two appearances, and a few years down the line, New Titans gets cancelled and Wolfman's not writing Dick anymore anyway. So the animal gets abandoned for a while, until Devin Grayson, a fan of both Wolfman and B:tAS, revives the Wolfman-era Titans team in JLA/Titans and then the ongoing series Titans 1999.

Grayson then brings back the elephant in a flashback to Dick's past in Titans 16 (Jun 2000), where she imports the B:tAS name. Sometimes I'm skeptical of TV-to-comics imports, but honestly, I endorse this one. You lose the alliteration, which is a shame, but IMO Zitka is a better elephant name than Elinore.

Here's Dick with the newly-christened Zitka in Titans 16:

Grayson also briefly references the elephant in Gotham Knights 20 and - in a final angsty callback - in Nightwing 88 (Feb 2004), where Zitka tries futilely to comfort Dick in the midst of his trauma conga line:

... And... honestly, I think that's it for comic appearances? The two Wolfman comics plus the three Grayson comics.

Both Wolfman and Grayson are writing multiple titles - Batman, New Titans, Titans, Gotham Knights, and Nightwing between the two of them, spanning a big chunk of Dick's post-Crisis canon - and both writers use the elephant for heartwarming moments of nostalgia, which means if you're doing a post-Crisis readthrough for Dick, Elinore/Zitka feels memorable. But I don't think she actually shows up that much.

For post-2011, I am not as well-informed - throwing this out to the dash? anyone know? - but I feel like Zitka the heartwarming symbol of Dick's heartwarming circus past is, uh, thematically very at odds with the Court of Owls evil!circus vibes, so my instinct is that this story element was almost certainly dropped in the reboot.

Did Dick ever have a stuffed elephant toy in comics?

In WFA, yes; in main comics continuity, no. Technically, I have not read every comic ever published, so I could be wrong!! But I don't think so.

Below, find my rambling reasoning on the tonal vibes of pre-Crisis, post-Crisis, and post-2011, and why this particular story element doesn't seem right to me for the first two.

Pre-Crisis (...okay, mostly the Silver Age): stuffed animal, yes or no?

tl;dr no, requires too much background knowledge on the part of the reader, plus the elephant wasn't a thing until later

Elinore doesn't get created until post-Crisis, but also just generally, pre-Crisis callbacks are more along the lines of this reference in Batman 129 (published in 1960), where, wow, Batman and Robin are hunting jewel thieves - and it turns out Robin recognized this strongman! BUT HOW?!

The comic goes on to recap Dick's entire origin story in flashback, on the assumption that you may not know it.

(BTW, if you'd like to know more about Haly's Circus throughout the years, nightwingology has a great post here summarizing a lot of fun plotlines and characters!)

Basically: Silver Age comics are very self-consciously episodic and kid-friendly; they're not generally gonna do overly-elaborate callbacks because they don't know what comics their kid readers may have randomly picked up or remember.

By the time of post-Crisis, comic books were being written for an adult audience buying from the direct market, i.e. readers who are collecting whole runs & don't need or want Dick's origin story to be recapped to us in full every time it's referenced. That's why in post-Crisis, we get stuff like "hey, neat, this particular soda brand is getting mentioned in several different books!!" or "in order to understand this story arc, buy SIXTEEN DIFFERENT COMICS in FIVE DIFFERENT RUNS and read them ALL ACCORDING TO A NUMBERED ORDER and also you better be following the individual plotlines and recognize these five minor characters who we don't bother to introduce!! Good luck!!" But the elaborate post-Crisis plotlines - and subtler worldbuilding like a stuffed animal callback to Dick's backstory - don't make a lot of story sense UNLESS you're imagining your readers as completionist adult fans.

So IMO a stuffed animal wouldn't be a pre-Crisis thing unless it was The Episodic Story Of the Week, and I don't think a stuffed animal is action-adventure-y enough for the fast-paced storytelling of the Silver Age. (Unless it, like, came to life and tried to eat you or something.)

Post-Crisis: stuffed animals, yes or no?

tl;dr: no, Dick's a manly tough guy, he's not gonna have a stuffed animal, that'd be lame, like something Tim might do

Part of the edgy grimdark adult vibes in 80s/90s comics is that some characters who used to be kinda silly & goofy & lighthearted - like Batman and Robin - get reimagined as Serious and Angsty and Edgy in a Tough Cool Manly Brooding Way. This massively affects characterization for Bruce, Dick, and Bruce and Dick's relationship.

(I obviously love this change & love the tense Bruce-and-Dick interactions, but plenty of fans of the earlier fluffy comics really disliked the edgy retcons of Miller / Wolfman / Starlin / et al.)

The upshot is that post-Crisis is a period when you could have a recurring reference like a stuffed elephant, but you wouldn't have a stuffed elephant, not for Dick. I think a toy like that would be too cutesy / childish / effeminate to give a male character in post-Crisis, unless you were poking fun at him.

Now, you could probably let Tim have a stuffed animal, because Tim is sometimes cool but also sometimes a tryhard loser who is faking being cool and not entirely pulling it off (see e.g. the Robin comic where he practices tough-guy faces in the mirror, or the Teen Titans comic where Conner discovers his cringy Enya CD, or when he's fanboying over Connor and it's awkward, etc etc.). A stuffed animal would be deeply embarrassing, and you'd have to be careful to compensate by having Tim do something cool afterward - but Tim's character concept allows for "he's kind of a loser sometimes."

But Dick isn't!! In post-Crisis, Dick's a tough / impressive / "cool guy" character, the kind of guy anyone would want to be, even in the flashbacks where he's Robin, and even in the stories where he's more lighthearted than angsty. It'd be kinda lame for Dick to have a stuffed elephant, so he wouldn't. I feel like Dick would be more likely to poke fun at it if someone had one, like when he's making fun of Wally for liking the Hardy Boys. Dick could have a Batman action figure, at most, and if he had one he would have it ironically.

Basically: in post-Crisis, a male character hugging a stuffed elephant feels more likely to be a punchline to me, not something poignant. (Even with Tim, Tim could have an embarrassing stuffed animal, but he couldn't hug it when sad - that's too far. Maybe Booster Gold might do this. Probably he wouldn't, but spiritually, he would. Sorry Booster ilu! <3)

Instead, Dick instinctively deals with his inner turmoil like the TORTURED ACTION HERO he is: by punching things and brooding and yelling and joining the mob and sleeping on rooftops and going on obsessive secret missions and acquiring Angsty Stubble!! Just like Batman!

(Technically I don't know if Bruce ever joined the mob but you know he would.)

Anyway as you know this is my favorite continuity and I am poking fun affectionately, but uh, yeah sdfsfdsfs. No stuffed animals.

Post-2011 / Infinite Frontier / Wayne Family Adventures: stuffed animals, yes or no?

tl;dr it's in WFA! Probably not anywhere else, but it could be.

Post-2011 stuff tends to be cutesier overall, most of all in the current Infinite Frontier era. So I don't feel like this would be tonally out-of-line with IF comics. Taylor tends to go for more meme-y references rather than fanfic references, though.

So the obvious best fit is WFA, which is aiming for a rough approximation of Silver Age family-friendly vibes - wholesome, episodic plots, Teaching Good Moral Lessons For The Youth, etc. - plus lots of Easter eggs for fanfic readers and some comic references.

And look, here we are:

Aww.

Whew - that's everything I could find!

Anyway as you can probably tell, I LOVE the elephant, so this was a very entertaining rabbit hole to go down, thank you <3

[kaiiscottage]

Arajin appreciation post bc I genuinely like him <3

[buubonita]

Ppl who makes Cream toxic when i get you...whne i get my little hands in you...

[nunyverse-scribe]

Winter Writing Prompts Part 2!

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Your fav ship kissing under the blankets during a cold wintery night.

Telekinetic character versus snow manipulator character in a snowball fight!

Animal whisperer character helping ALL the mammals in their area prepare for hibernation.

Piggy backing off of that, animal whisperer character helping ALL the birds in the area to prepare for migration for the wintery season.

Writing challenge: For your fantasy culture, instead of a December winter holiday, make a winter holiday set in your world’s January or February!

A character with super speed ice skating, see how well that goes

An artist sculpting out of ice

Ship date idea where they go to see the northern lights together (ppl who live north enough to see that are lucky lucky bastards sobs in lives closer to the equator)

A child befriending a Yeti that lives in the nearby mountains that everyone else is afraid of!

Character A checking out alternative forms of travel for their winter vacation because Character B is terrified of heights and so A doesn’t want to choose travel by plane (Bonus Points: B keeps on insisting it’s fine but A will still stubbornly accommodate to B’s fear unless/until they get to a point of getting over their fear where they are less likely to get a panic attack flying plane)

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

[obamas-eyebrow]

The highest bidder

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Sejanus plinth x Heavensbee! Reader(f)

Part 2

Wc: 6.9K (hehe)

Warnings; No reader body/race descriptions (if any pls lmk) A little ooc. NO USE OF Y/N. English is not my first language. Also, it has been sooooooooooooooooo long since I read the book, expect inaccuracies. My own headcannons in there, obv. Uhhhh idk, anything you'd expect from the capitol I guess. Two mentions of kys. I probably misspelled Hilarius as hilarious at least once but I'm lazy.

Summary; You had a huge crush on one district boy, and you were not going to let the chance go to waste, whisking him away the night of your father's party. Sooo much fluff, tiny bit of angst. (Idk how to write summaries just trust me bro)

A/N: Shout out to every single Sejanus Plinth writer and reader I love you all so much you're all gorjous. Or however you spell it. This is the only man to ever, actually. No.1 snow hater btw.

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He often spends the short car rides pondering what exactly his father thinks his presence is worth at these things, seeing as business is usually the topic of the evening. The number of times they’ve repeated the same night with different families is beyond countable, having been doing this ever since they moved to the Capitol, and it always goes the same way. They’ll have a bland dinner prepped by some pretentious chef in an uncomfortable silence, then his father will be whisked away to a private room to talk freely. His ma, charismatic as she was, will drag a boring conversation out of the wife, most often about some current non-issue he knows she doesn’t really care about. That leaves him alone with whomever his playdate was set-up with, though they always seemed to have one excuse or another as to why they needed to be alone at the moment. 

Sejanus preferred it this way. 

It’s not like he had much of a choice; being district and all, but it never really got to him. Well, he tried to not let it get to him, anyway.  

Tonight, however, the event seemed to be different. They were all dressed way more formally than what is dinner-appropriate, his Ma a bit more giddy than she usually was for something like this, she even helped his father fashion a better trim to help ease his nerves. 

His father, nervous. How absurd. 

“The Heavensbees cordially invite you to their first celebratory gala, commemorating the end of a fortune-filled business quarter.”

The Heavensbees. 

One of -if not the most- prestigious families in the Capitol. Deep pockets of wealth ranging from liquid assets to glamorous estates. If there’s a nice mansion you pass-by, nine times out of ten it belongs to them. Every company, whether it’s a multinational or a puny start-up; they’ve got their claws in it. The Plinths have money- that's not a secret, but no one in the Capitol even comes close to the Heavensebees. They’re also untouchable, creating this little bubble for themselves, not allowing anyone to really get close to them, so this gala was definitely unexpected, to say the least. All of the elites and their families will be putting their best show on tonight in an attempt to impress the esteemed host, his own classmates included. It was almost like a party.

Whatever it was, he just hoped the night would go well, for his father’s sake at least. He’ll stick to the usual plan of retreating to a corner and people watching for the night. 

…

Being this close to the residence only put into perspective how comically massive it was, the walk up from the park to the front door alone being long enough that they had golf carts picking guests up by the gate, zooming through the colourful gardens that held exotic plants from all the districts. Fairy lights scattered around these fields twinkled as they approached the mansion door, finding some other families making their way up the grand stairs. He could recognise a few of his peers, not bothering to even think about greeting them. The Avoxes lining the entrance and hallway pointed them towards the grand hall where the gala was held. Sejanus took a moment to observe the architecture of the walls, adorned with masterful woodwork that the untrained eye would not recognise as a display of money, but he knew better. The hall itself was a large circular ball room with captivating gold tile work, the walls draped in the finest red silk curtains pulled away from their respective windows, allowing the moon in. The central piece was a flashy, intricate chandelier that hung down from the ceiling, its patterns matching those on the tiles. There was a long dining table off to the side, beaming with flower arrangements and fine china, lacking food but ready for the guests when the time comes. Of course, the appetizers were already floating around the room with several Avoxes, who were dressed in a neat black uniform with the Heavensbee family emblem on their chest.

Sejanus wondered how all this wealth would look had it been put to better use. 

They were a few steps into the hall before being spotted by the host, who dropped his conversation with whomever it was to greet his father with open arms.

“Strabo! You made it!” 

We really didn’t have a choice…

Trailing behind him, was his classmate, Hilarius, whom he exchanged a quick, tight lipped smile with and called it a day. His father will probably tell him off later for not giving the boy a proper greeting, but neither of them wanted that. The man’s treatment of his father gave Sejanus a glimpse of his own status in the Capitol; it must be rare for the Heavensbees to interact with people of wealth these days. His mother had attempted to strike up a conversation with the wife, but she was clearly uninterested, being a ‘woman of business’ and all. He rolled his eyes internally.

No amount of money could buy manners, I guess. 

Shortly after, his family dispersed, each finding their own entertainment for the night. His father, as usual, was posted with a group of investors. His mother over where some ladies were chatting some gossip, and his sorry self in a quiet corner watching the party-goers dot around the room. His hand nursed a glass of champagne from a region he’d never heard of before, expensive, clearly. A shame it tasted disgusting, but he tried not to grimace. It was only 6pm, so it was going to be a long night. He tried to toss his gaze around the room in hopes of finding Snow, but that proved difficult considering Coryo wasn’t that tall, his blond head of hair blending in with every other one in this place. He was so lost in thought, he didn’t even notice your presence by his side. 

“How are you finding the party?” Your voice was a much needed break from the noise. He whipped his head around to look at you, an unfamiliar face. He did a quick up and down, observing your stunning orange dress. It complimented your figure well, the colour bringing out your best features.Your eyelids were painted with a similar shade in the inner corners, specks of gold over the rest of the lid, your lips housing a smile much more genuine than anything he’d seen since he moved here. 

It felt like he was looking at sunshine in human form, quickly turning his attention away from you to avoid staring. 

“It’s fine…could use better Champagne.” He shrugged, putting his guard back up. He knows how this conversation usually goes anyway. At that, you giggle a little, reaching by him to grab a lemon from the table nearby. 

“Here, this is what I like to do.” You squeezed a few fresh lemon juice drops into his glass, nodding for him to try it now. He took a small sip, his eyes on yours as you waited for his opinion with anticipation.

“It…still sucks.”

That earned a small laugh from you, causing a smile to form on his own lips. “I guess it’s just acquired taste…Sejanus plinth, right?”

It wasn’t unusual for people he didn’t recognise to know who he was. It just meant that there was an ulterior motive there. He tore his eyes away from you, “Yeah.” Bringing the glass to his lips for a sip. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so forward.” You clasped your hands in front of yourself, sensing his discomfort. “Hilarius brings you up from time to time and I just thought I’d-”

Sejanus choked on his drink, his eyes widening as he coughed a fit. He looked back over to you, struggling to catch his breath as you placed a supportive hand on his shoulder, grabbing a tissue to hand him. He straightened himself out, stood back upright, catching the emblem on your chest he must’ve missed the first time around. 

“You’re uh-the other Heavensbee?” Is that seriously the best you could come up with?

“The other…” Your smile widened in amusement. “Yeah, the irrelevant one, that’s me.”

He sighed, a smile forming on his own lips. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s ok, it's true.” You shrugged casually. 

“I’m Sejanus Plinth.” He stuck his hand out for you to shake. 

“I know,” You giggled, shaking it anyway. 

He sighed, dropping his head down at his own sheepishness. It worked for you though, allowing him to look past your own nervousness. The truth was, you knew a lot more about him than you let on and, whether it was through Hilarius’ retellings or brisk moments in the academy hallways, you’d developed a not so little schoolgirl crush on Sejanus. He was in the grade above yours, which is why you hadn’t really met before, so you weren’t going to waste this night. You admired him from afar, how outspoken he was. It seemed like he was the only other sane person in this place, unafraid to call out the Capitol’s ridiculous ways. Unapologetically district and proud. Contrary to what people may assume, money does not grant you the protection they think it does. If you were to behave the same way Sejanus does, your father would put a bullet in your skull himself, so it’s not the money that allows him to speak like this, it’s his character. You’re sure he does not care about nor fear any possible consequences, bravery, that’s what it is. 

You bit your lip, an uncomfortable silence settling between the two of you as you watched the crowds and cliques interact. It was now or never, you guess. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Maybe it was a bit ballsy, but you hated this atmosphere and were desperate to get to know him. 

He gave you a confused look, “And go where?”

“I’ve got a few ideas.”

The main door wasn’t an option with the amount of people observing it, so you took his hand and slipped through the kitchen hidden at the back of the hall. It was filled with a fury of Avoxes whizzing about to put the food together, none of them paying either of you any mind. You then led him through a series of winding hallways that housed family portraits and memorabilia, ending your adventure in a large hallway with grand windows. There were vases worth an entire district’s fortune on either side of the carpeted floor, each pair standing guard next to wooden double doors. You stopped at a particular door with a small book sign on the front, your actions cut off by a whistle from the end of the hall. It was a woman- an avox, clad in uniform, approaching the two of you with a stern expression. She was maybe in her mid-40s, the signs of age and tiredness wearing down on her. 

She stopped between you two, sizing him up before raising an unamused eyebrow at you. You smiled. 

“Nora, I can explain…” you began, to which she shook her head disapprovingly. “We won’t take long, please?”

The woman sighed, looking towards the end of the hallway that led to the ballroom before finding your eyes again. She brought her hands up to gesture- no, sign something to you. 

What would your father do if he found out you were sneaking around with a boy!?

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him…”

Your presence is important at the party, but here you are hiding around like a little mouse. Taking him to the Library no less! 

“I’m just going to show him the map-”

Once again, her gestures were frantic. 

The map! And if he tells your father? If he finds out that you’re letting someone in on your views?

“No! This is-” you looked over to him before cutting yourself off, opting to sign the rest of the conversation to save yourself the embarrassment. 

Nora, this is Sejanus, the one Hilarius talks about sometimes. The district boy, remember? 

The woman stood up straighter, giving Sejanus an intimidating up and down. 

Tell him that if he even thinks about doing anything funny, I’ll see to him turning into one of us myself. 

You chuckled, “That’s unnecessary…” turning around to Sejanus, who had an awestruck expression on his face.

 “She says you better behave, or she’ll turn you into an Avox.” 

The woman nodded sharply and he couldn’t contain his smile, bowing his head slightly in respect. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Just- please make sure no-one comes by?” You pleaded with Nora, who sighed, then nodded. 

With that, she turned on her heel and left to do her job. You turned back to him. 

“Sorry about that, she gets a little protective.” You said awkwardly as you fiddled with the lock on the door. Clearly, neither of you were supposed to be in that room. 

“How come you can speak to her? Sign like her?” He asked with genuine admiration in his voice. 

Your hands stilled at the door as you pressed your lips into a thin line, picking your next words with care. 

“Well, they practically raised me, so we had to communicate somehow.”

He had noticed your absence from family portraits, magazine issues and the general public eye. Though you were not a secret, the Heavensbees clearly didn’t want much spotlight to be shined on you. Almost like they were hiding something. He wanted to ask, but it was clearly not a normal thing to talk about with someone you just met. But if he had to guess, he’d say you’re probably a lot more trouble than the family would like to show. He’d say…you might be just like him. Whether you were district or not- he wasn’t sure, since you didn’t really resemble Ms. Heavensbee in any way, but he really shouldn’t attempt to dissect your family secrets right now, in case it bothers you. With a sigh, you undid the lock and let him into the dim room. 

The library. It was way less grand than other places in the house, a layer of dust coating the shelves. Scattered around were boxes full of books, forgotten and unimportant. Cobwebs and paint chips made for odd decor, especially in a mansion like this. Clearly, you’re the only person that frequents this room. 

“I’m not really supposed to bring anyone here, but…”

Most of the books ever written had been lost to the war. Whether it was propaganda, censorship, or a need for warmth and survival. But you had a whole library of them. It housed a significant collection of pre-war books. Even some that were pre-Panem, which were your favourite. Stories and tales of how people lived together before the divide, it all sounded like a utopia. Your family didn’t really care for this particular display of wealth, some books in the collection even being banned, meaning you could probably get arrested for preserving them. That was mostly why it hadn’t been renovated with the rest of the house. 

Sejanus had a twinkle in his eye as he looked around the room, unsure of where one would even start. He followed you helplessly to the far corner where you crouched down to wiggle away one of the loose floor tiles, beneath which was even more books. 

“These are…were…supposed to be burnt, but I kept them.” 

He could recognise a few, most of them having covers that were too old and frayed to identify. 

“You’ve read them all?” His eyes found yours, a proud smile on your lips. 

“Most.” 

You reached your hand down to grab a small key hidden underneath, placing the tile back where it belongs then picking yourself back up and dusting your dress. 

“I’ll have to borrow one sometime.” 

You gave him a playful look, “You could get me in trouble,”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

The silence of the library was broken only by your nervous breaths, standing so close to him as he looked down at you.

This was definitely not how you planned for this night to go.  

“This way,” you jiggled the keys, grabbing his hand softly once more to lead him into one of the aisles with a door at the end. You struggled with the key in the darkness, hands shaking from your nerves as you twisted the lock, leading him into a smaller room. It was so dark, he couldn’t even see his own hand, until you turned the overhead light on. 

It was a tiny office of some sort, the ceiling lower than a normal room’s. There was a large window that overlooked the side of the mansion, giving a comforting view of the back gardens. He didn’t even realise how high up they were, not really recalling climbing up any stairs. This place was a maze. He watched as you messed around with some papers on the crickety shelf, pulling out things and moving boxes around. You then moved some Knick knacks off the desk before laying out a large paper, unfolding it until it filled out the tabletop entirely. 

‘Map of Panem’ 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away. You’d gone and drawn out sketches of some of the districts as well as the capitol with detail he could only assume came from first hand accounts. 

“Okay, so.” You dusted off some eraser parts and laid fresh paper on the side with some pencils. “I only have some of the districts down, I was hoping you could help me with 2? If you remember it, of course. These are just some rough sketches for the time being, I’m hoping I could improve on them with time before finalising it.” 

He noticed how the canvas was actually just several sheets of paper stuck together with some tape. Clearly, this was a project you’d dedicated a lot of time to. 

“..district 4 is my favourite, can’t wait to paint it in, will probably be the most vibrant…”

He hadn’t even noticed you were speaking, too engrossed in studying the details and lack of in his own district. 

“Where did you get all this insight?” He glanced over at you with a smile so big it almost hid his eyes. 

“The househelp! They come from all around. They tell me what it was like and I try my best to capture it into a small space.”

“An’ you?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Are you from the districts?” 

Maybe it wasn’t an appropriate question, but it was beyond him as to why someone who’d grown up with this much money would go out of their way for the districts, especially being surrounded with so many elitists. He was only the way he was because he knew what his home was like, so why were you this way? 

“No I’m capitol born,” you shrugged, furrowing your brows a little. 

“You know most capitolites would rather die than associate themselves with anyone from the outside. But here you are, calling Avoxes ‘househelp’. Js’ don’t make any sense.” He wondered out loud, voice matching the quietness of the room. 

“I know basic human decency is not a usual Capitol trait, but it is not exactly district exclusive either, you know?”

“And why did you call me up here? To show me your humanity?”

“I wanted to show you this so that I could stop talking to myself so often. Look, I know drawing maps and reading books won’t stop the hunger games. I wish I could be more useful, and I wish I could do more to fix things. I feel like a damsel in this stupid house. But not all of us have the ability to speak so freely. You say these things and they brush it off as you being homesick, I say these things and they’ll have me hung by first light.”

Sejanus didn’t mean for his tone to come off so accusatory, he just couldn’t wrap his head around how the daughter of the richest family in Panem spends her free time having mini-rebellions in her room. He wondered what Mr. Heavensbee thinks of his daughter's morality. It must drive Hilarius insane, too. 

“M’ sorry, didn’t mean to come off like that, m’ just shocked s’ all.” He clasped his hands behind his back sheepishly. 

You sighed, meeting his eyes. “It’s ok, I know you’re probably used to the other side of the spectrum.” 

You turned around to grab two small stools to bring them to the table, setting one down for each of you. It was an uncomfortable position, especially giving his height, but he persevered.  You grabbed the pencils and blank pages, waiting for him to begin. 

You two spent the better part of that night in that room, where he recounted stories of cozy apartments and gold mines. How the sound of metal clanking was always there, even when it wasn’t. How the mountains by the side made the district colder year-round. He told stories of the square, how he and his friends would watch peacekeepers train sometimes, how the buildings were all a monotone shade of dull gray, but he remembers his childhood in colour. He told you of the people, how they’d rip the shirt off their backs for one another. He’d often trail off on little anecdotes of stray cats in dark alleyways or snowball fights with the neighbours. How the sound of bombs used to frighten him, and how his mother would hum him to sleep.

Most importantly, he told you how much he missed it. 

It was around 10pm when you decided you’d had enough for the night, getting up to stretch your backs. You moved over to the window, opening it completely to let the air in. 

“Wanna see something else?”

You stepped out onto the little window ledge, reaching your hand out for him to grab and follow. 

“M’ not fond of heights…” He leaned over, observing the distance from the ground.

“You won’t fall…I think,” This was clearly amusing you. 

He swallowed his fear and stepped out, the cold night air chill making the distance to the ground seem longer. He gripped onto your hand tightly, as if it would make a difference somehow. He held his breath, avoiding the urge to peak at how high up he was, keeping his eyes fixed solely on your figure. You both took careful steps to where the little room ended and the slanted roof began, the wind hitting both of your  faces head-on, he felt like he was going to fly away. Once you finally made it to safety, you kept your grip on his hand to take him to the top, lying down on your stomach slowly to watch some windows below. 

Said windows were the ones in the ceiling of the ballroom, giving you a private viewing of all the attendants. He chuckled at the whole situation, what kind of adventures do you possibly go on? 

“Look! That’s your father, right?” You pointed towards his father, who was deep in conversation with someone he couldn’t recognise from this height. 

“Yeah…there’s my Ma!” She was laughing about something someone said, the sound bringing a bigger smile to his face. 

“Is the accent a habit or is it part of the charm?” You bit back a smile, looking up to meet his eyes. 

“Habit. It comes out more when m’ nervous.” He chuckled. 

“She seems really nice,” You pointed back down to her.

“Yeah, she was the only thing keeping me sane all those years. All I got, she is. Makes the best food, too, js a bonus.”

As Sejanus spoke, a soft smile on your face formed as you watched the woman speak animatedly to a guest, and Sejanus watched you. 

He swallowed, “You close with your ma?”

You looked up suddenly, as if the question was an attack on your person. 

“She’s…not my mother.” You bit the inside of your cheek. His brows formed a knot. “I’m only a half-Heavensbee, that’s what Hilarius calls it anyway.”

“I’m sorry- I didn’t know-”

“It’s okay. It’s not really a secret anyway. Uhm my…mother is dead. I think. I’m not sure.”

He shook his head questioningly. 

“My  father won’t speak about her. I’m the forgotten affair child, so, I was hidden away for most of my childhood. Then they sort-of never really mentioned me to people, so no one ever dug around. The house help have been changed since then, and communication isn’t always easy. I’ve heard a dozen different stories. 

‘She’s capitol-no she’s district. She died in childbirth-no, my father had her killed-nope it was Ms. Heavensbee. Actually she’s alive and well, still in the capitol, no! Away in some district. I think she killed hers-’ 

You get the point. I know they don’t mean any ill intent, but I got sick oof hearing theories about who she was, so I just gave up.” You puffed your cheeks out, blowing air through them slowly. 

How awful must that be. If there was one person Sejanus would cross the seas for and back, it would be his ma. He didn’t even want to begin to picture how his life would’ve been without her. He’d always been called a ‘mama’s boy’, but he wore it like it was a badge of honour. So for you to have grown up like this, all alone. It hit him harder than he would admit. 

His empathy is more often a curse. 

“M’ sorry, didn’t know it was-”

“Huh? Oh, it’s fine. Can’t really mourn someone you never knew, right?”

“That’s not true.” He shook his head.

“Well…can we pretend it is for the time being?”

He gave you a comforting smile, taking his eyes away from yours in pity, nodding his head.

You both went back to people watching from your post, pointing out things that people did when they thought they were alone. 

“Your father is parading Hilarius around like he’s some trophy,” He chuckled. 

“Oh don’t worry, he’s definitely enjoying it.” You watched as your father whispered something in his ear and Hilarius exited the room in a hurry.

“So, who gets the fortune?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“And where does that put you?”

“Where it puts most Capitol women, heirs or not; sold off to the highest bidder.”

He grimaced , unsure of what to say to that.

“It’s not a big deal, I’ll probably kill myself by then anyway-” He gasped, eyes widening at your casualty, “I’m kidding! A little-”

He sat up straight, moving from his position to sit next to you instead. You were no longer hunched over the window, but looking out into the night.

“The stars are a lot clearer in the districts, you know?”

You looked at him, internally surprised at the proximity. His leg was just barely touching yours, but by Capitol standards, for two people who had basically just met, this is something.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Could see the whole night sky from there. I had a friend whose pa used to tell us all about em-their names, and how they used to use them for navigation.”

You weren’t going to comment on how he called his friend's father pa, but didn’t use that title for his own, it was already obvious. 

“Well, pass some knowledge on then.”

“Uhh…m’ sorry, I was really young.”

You both erupted into a fit of giggles. A gust of wind caught you off-guard, making you shiver a smidge. 

“You cold?”

“A little.”

“Here,” Ever the gentleman, he carefully undid his suit jacket and swung it over your shoulders, the gesture bringing heat crawling up your neck. “Better?”

“Yeah…”

He was infinitely closer now, practically just one burst of confidence away. You tried to keep yourself from casting your eyes down to his lips, opting to keep them on his eyes instead. But he didn’t put himself through that self control, exaggerating the way he drew his gaze up from your mouth to your eyes. The shift in the atmosphere was so sudden, and your heart was seconds away from beating out of your chest. 

“Sej…” The nickname just slipped out, voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in slowly, testing the waters. You shut your eyes softly, mirroring his action-

A call of your name pulled both of you out of your trance. Your brother. He knew you’d be hiding up here, and he found a different entrance to your secret spot a long time ago. He doesn’t usually care for bothering you, really prefering to keep you out of his way, but your father had wanted you there. 

It would be less than a minute before you two came into view, meaning you had to think fast. You practically tore off Sejanus’ jacket, shoving it his face a little too harshly. 

“Get to the window!” You whisper-yelled, and he wasted no time obeying. He rushed back with as much care as there was urgence, stepping slowly onto the stupid ledge. He held his breath, this time to be able to overhear the conversation with your brother that was taking place at a different window. 

“Why are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding, just wanted some fresh air.”

“You’ve been gone since the beginning. I don’t care, obviously, but father requests your presence.”

“Okay, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Now!”

“I need to straighten myself out first, man, m’ not gonna take long.”

“M’?”

Sejanus could hear your slight intake of breath, pressing his lips into a thin smile to avoid laughing. This was serious, you two could get caught! But he couldn’t help the warmth that spread through his chest. 

“That’s how Plinth talks. Come to think of it, he has been missing all night. You didn’t happen to..run into him?”

“Who?” You were never that great of a liar.

“Don’t aggravate me- if you���re with him I-”

“Why is this Plinth always on your mind, like get a life!”

“Come with me now.”

“I said I need a minute. Or I could come now, but then I might accidentally tell father that I saw you making out with-”

“Hey! Okay fine. But you better zip it!”

“Fine!”

“Fine! One minute!” He turned away to make it back towards the hall. 

Once he was out of sight, you rushed back to the window where Sejanus had managed to safely make it back into the room. You poked your head from the top. 

“Guess the bidding has begun,” You sighed, dreading the events about to take place. He gave you a sympathetic look, owning nothing else he could give to you in the moment. 

“You’re not gonna join me?” He couldn’t keep the whipped smile from housing itself on his features. 

“We can’t walk in together, they’ll get talking.” You snorted

“Is that so bad?”

“S’ actually worse for you than it is for me, Sej.”

“S’?” He mimicked your brother’s tone. 

“Your parents never told you it's rude to eavesdrop?” You scrunched your nose in embarrassment. “Just go down the hall, out the same way we came in. You shouldn’t get lost. I’ll use the other entrance. Just hope I don’t forget to lock things up later.”

He nodded, turning around to head on his way whilst putting his jacket back on. You shamelessly took this moment to watch how his muscles flexed under the dress shirt, so lost in your own head you didn’t notice that he turned back to watch you watch him. Your eyes widened, and you pulled yourself up quickly out of view. He chuckled softly, reaching for the door handle before you called for him, finding your head poking down once more. 

“I hope I didn’t ruin your night!”

“You kiddin’? This is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life!”

That earned a giggle from you. 

“Bye Sej,” You smiled.

“Bye, sunshine,”

You both stared at each other, the nickname just as a surprise to him as it was to you, but you had to pick yourself up quickly to avoid melting into a puddle there and then. Or falling off the side of the building. You were sure he heard your little celebration though. This was your longtime childhood crush, after all. You used your imagination to put yourself together due to the lack of a mirror, and hurried through the other window. 

He guesses your route was the shorter way through, since by the time he got back, your father’s arm was already around your bare shoulder as you conversed with one of his business partners. You held yourself with so much poise and grace, to anyone else, you’re just as stuck up as every other soul here. 

But he knew better. 

The party goers had dwindled down to just a few left. You must’ve spotted him out of the corner of your eye, since you glanced quickly then back at the man you were being introduced to, not being able to help the tiny smile that broke through your poker face. 

He strolled slowly to where his ma was. 

“Oh, baby, where have you been all night? Was worried sick!” 

“I’m alright, ma. More than alright.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “What’s goin’ on?” She teased. 

He didn’t get the chance to recount his night to her, his father approaching them frantically. 

“Come on,” He nodded over to where you and Mr. Heavensbee were wrapping up the talk, then began approaching you. 

“Oh, js’ what did you do to your hair?” His ma didn’t wait for an answer, reaching up to tame the curls back into their place. He scrunched his nose, this is exactly why they call him what they do. With all his presence as a man, she still treats him like he’s her little boy. And he doesn’t mind it one bit. 

He interlaced his arm with hers as they followed in step with his father. 

“Did you know they had a daughter?” She whispered over to him. 

“What? She’s a Heavensbee?” He smiled, knowing she couldn’t see his face. 

“Yeah! Guess they like ta’ keep their secrets. Her father wants to wed her off, you know how they are with their women.” She tsked, “It’s all business to them. A business union- he called it.”

“And how do you know all this, ma?” There was some teasing in his voice. He doubts that this is what the ladies were chatting with her about. She shrugged, looking away guiltily. 

“I may have overheard a thing or two. Your father is considering going in for that bid, seems like Mr. Heavensbee wouldn’t mind either, you don’ got great competition I think. What do you think? She’s pretty, ain’t she?”

“Hmm. Why not?”

“I mean- What? Why not? Didn’t you say you’d rather keep by my side than wed one of those- what did you call em? Frog-faced pigs?”

“Did I? M’ memory must be blurry.”

“You swore celibacy an’ all,”

He laughed, nodding over to you, “She…ain’t so bad.”

They stopped behind his father, who was bidding your father a goodbye. Thanking him for the evening and all. Of course, both of them had ulterior motives, but they’ll ease into that in a minute. His ma took this moment to face him, narrowing her eyes at him. He tried to keep his gaze away from her face to avoid laughing. 

“Sejanus Plinth, what has gotten into ya’? I never thought I’d see the day-” She cut herself off, noticing the two of you exchanging glances awkwardly. She grabbed his chin harshly to force him to look at her, earning a little ‘ow!’ from him, right in front of you. You bit your smile back, observing the pair as she whisper-yelled something over to him. 

“Sejanus, you tell me what is goin’ on right now boy, you know I don’ like bein’ outta’ the loop.”

He was about to tell her ‘later, ma!’, but was cut off by his father’s strong hand guiding him to the conversation. 

“-and this is my boy, top of his class, he is!” His father bragged as he reached a hand out for Mr. Heavensbee to shake. 

“The night was delightful, Mr. Heavensbee, thank you for having us, you were a wonderful host.”

“You’ve got a strong grip, Plinth! And the pleasure is all mine. Before you go-” He slipped a hand around your shoulder to lead you into the conversation, “I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, she’s in the academy as well,  quite the brain on her.”

You stuck your hand out for him, instead, he grabbed it, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss to the back of it. You bit the inside of your cheek to avoid giggling. 

“Chivalrous, too. Oh my boy, you are just a treasure.” Your father boasted, before turning his attention back to a rushed, final talk with Mr. Plinth. 

“You’re in the academy?” He feigned innocence, unaware of his mothers presence by his side, observing the stupid smile on his face. 

“Yeah- uhm,” You cleared your throat, “m’ just a grade below you, I think,”

Your eyes widened, so did his, then his mother’s, who looked between the two of you. You both turned to her slowly, hoping that maybe she didn’t catch it, but the realisation slowly dawned on her face as she got more excited. She pointed her finger between the two of you several times before Sejanus gave her a look that made her stand up straight with a neutral expression. Of course, she then nudged him a couple of times, rocking on her feet to contain her anticipation. Sejanus laughed a little, dropping his head down in defeat. She then took this chance to wiggle her eyebrows at you, which caused you to giggle. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Plinth.” You cleared your throat.

“Please, call me Ma!” She was a little too enthusiastic, causing you to smile.

Strabo began walking away, having said his final goodbyes to your father, whom you found your spot back next to as you watched them all turn around and head out. Ms.P- Ma, began hurriedly whispering something to Sejanus, pinching him a few times for good measure. At what looked like her request, he turned around to face you while walking backwards, bringing his hands to his mouth so that his words are louder. 

“I hope I can see you again!”

You smiled, your father leaning down to you; “Would you like that?”

You looked at him, “I’d love that!”

“We’d love that! Strabo, we’ll be in touch soon!” 

Sejanus’ father nodded proudly, having seemingly secured the grand prize. With that, they all turned back around to leave, for real this time. 

Your father walked you back towards the direction of your quarters. 

“I like the Plinth boy, he’s got manners.”

You were just about to agree when Hilarius chimed in; “He’s district”

Your father raised a brow at him, “Don’t matter to me, boy.” For a split second, you thought you may have misjudged your father. “He’s money. It ain’t like he’s taking the family name. At least with him, we’re getting a little, not just giving.”

Of course, that’s all it ever was. The highest bidder. 

But he’s not so bad. 

Your father found a different set of guests he had to attend to, leaving you to walk in  step with your brother. 

“Over my dead body. It doesn’t matter to me if father doesn’t care, I do. The district scum will not taint my bloodline.”

“I will marry him.”

“No-”

“And I will have his children-”

“Stop-”

“16 of em-”

“Ew! Stop!”

“I’ll name them all S.J-” You mused, your brother bringing a hand up to cover his ears before running away, “as in Sejanus Junior!” You called out, sure that he heard your little tease. 

All you would think about for the night is that silly nickname. 

Sunshine.

…

His father was engrossed in more work on their ride home, giving him the freedom to whisper the night’s events to his mother. 

“Oh!” She brought a hand up to her heart, some tears forming in her eyes. “Oh, Sejanus, I might cry! The poor girl.”

“S’ ok. Not much we can do for her,”

“Maybe I can ask the ladies at the club if they know something?”

“No, ma. I think that would make things worse.”

“Okay…did you kiss?”

“Ma!”

“What?! M’ js’ askin’! Your hair was a mess…”

He brought a hand over his face in embarrassment. “No, ma…Her brother came just in time.”

“I knew it! Oh, baby, I haven’t seen you this dopey since that girl from 1st grade! Remember? You used to take a slice a’ cake for her every week. We should bake her something togetha’!”

“That sounds nice, ma’.”

“I figured it out when she spoke like us, ms’ really like ya.”

He snorted, putting an arm around her. 

“Anythin’ else happen?”

“I gave her my jacket, cs’ she was cold.” She poked at his sides in amusement. “Then I called ‘er sunshine. Didn’ even mean ta’.”

“Oh, cause of the dress? She got a nice smile, too.”

“Yeah…” he sighed looking out the window. “Yeah, she does.”

[glitchedcosmos]

You know, I would love it if we get to see shadows medical failure guilt expanded on, it makes sense he would have a lot , he has a lot of deadly, raging guilt inside of him, survivors guilt, creation guilt, the guilt of past mistakes that almost destroyed entire planets ect, and the guilt of failing someone you were medically responsible for. I want too see that guilt of failure expanded on, Shadow is the ultimate cure, he sees himself as a tool, a weapon, a twisted distortion of a miracle for someone else, a creation to surpass all else for no one but his friend, pushing himself through endless tests, doing anything he was told to do for the sake of his only friend, his best friend, the only true friend he’d know for a long time. The weight of pressure and anxiety crushing him out of fear of failing Maria , not being able to save her from the conditions she faced, not being able to cure her, not living up to the only worth he was created to have. I want to see that expanded on , I want to see how absolutely crushing that guilt of failure is, during their time on the Ark, and the awful , doubled up guilt of the aftermath , the guilt of it all rooted in his most familiar failure. its a important part of his story, and I for one would love to see it expanded on .

[ardenrosegarden]

I love the image of John desperately trying to turn this into a Becket Moment instead of the clearly premeditated murder he was intending

[crocomum]

Starscream awakens from an icy tomb to a faction and future he knows nothing about.

Now Starscream must navigate unfamiliar skies while determining whether his loyalties lie in this inconceivable future or remain buried in the past. That the trine Starscream had never wanted was making their insufferable presence known was an inconsequential distraction; it had to be.

//////////////

AU where Starscream was the one to fall in the storm. Found family, tragedy, and aggressive trine courting ensue.

[voidcxltist]

I AM NOT EXPLAINING MUCH MORE.

Second image is my mood

I must remark english is not my main language so idk if host & versicle are properly said-

[natsuki-bakery]

⁎˚ ఎ CG The Postal Dude ໒ ˚⁎

Hi! If I remember correctly you do one shots? If so could I possibly get a one shot of Postal 3 Dude based off of the Caregiver headcannons I previously requested of him?

The Postal Dude wasn’t exactly known for his soft side. Dang, he wasn’t even sure he had a side that wasn’t drenched in sarcasm, violence, or a grim sense of humor. Yet, here he was, standing in the middle of his cluttered, half-destroyed apartment, staring down at the kid who had somehow ended up in his care

In the mess of avoiding gunfire, doing questionable jobs, and trying not to lose what little sanity he had left, the last thing he expected was to end up with an age regressor clinging to his leg, looking at him like he was their last hope

The kid didn’t say much, just looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. They were clutching a tattered stuffed bunny, the kind you’d expect to see in a thrift store bin, but to them, it seemed like the most precious thing in the world

Postal Dude sighed, running a hand through his greasy hair "Alright, alright, kid. Calm down. I’m not gonna hurt you"

He wasn’t exactly a master of comforting words, but his tone was gentler than usual, well, as gentle as it could be for him. The kid relaxed just a little, still trembling but not looking like they’d bolt at any second

"Let’s get you settled," he muttered, more to himself than to the kid. His apartment was a disaster zone, with pizza boxes, empty cans, and who-knows-what-else scattered around. He kicked some of it aside, clearing a spot on the couch...

"Sit there, okay?" He pointed to the cleared space. The kid hesitated before climbing up, curling into a ball as they clutched their bunny tighter

He paced the small living room, trying to figure out what the heck to do next. Taking care of someone wasn’t exactly in his skill set. His usual interactions involved dodging bullets, throwing Molotovs, or flipping off anyone who crossed him. But this was different. This was…innocent.

"Uh, you want something to eat?" He asked, peeking into the fridge. There wasn’t much, just a few cans of beer, some expired milk, and a moldy sandwich he didn’t remember buying. The kid shook their head, still silent.

Great, he thought. This is just great. He grabbed a half-empty bag of chips from the counter and tossed it over. "Here, munch on this if you get hungry"

Postal Dude grabbed a cigarette, lighting it up with a flick of his lighter. He took a long drag, trying to calm his nerves. The kid’s eyes followed the cigarette, and he could see the curiosity there.

"Not for you, kid" he said quickly, moving to the window to smoke. The last thing he needed was to deal with a coughing fit.

The sun was setting outside, casting an orange glow over the town. For a moment, there was an eerie kind of peace. The usual chaos seemed distant, muffled by the walls of the apartment

He glanced back at the kid, who was now watching a cockroach scuttle across the floor with a mix of fascination and fear. The sight almost made him smile. Almost.

"Listen, kid" he said, stubbing out the cigarette. "I don’t know how you ended up here, and I’m not exactly the nurturing type. But I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, alright ?"

The kid looked up at him with those big, trusting eyes, and for the first time, he felt something close to…responsibility. It was uncomfortable, like wearing shoes that were two sizes too small. But it wasn’t entirely bad

"Let’s just keep it quiet tonight, yeah ?" he suggested, pulling a raggedy blanket from a pile of laundry and tossing it over the kid. They nodded, snuggling into the couch.

The Postal Dude sat down in the armchair across from them, rubbing his temples. This was definitely not how he’d planned his evening, but somehow, it didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world.

As the apartment grew darker, the sounds of the outside world fading into the background, he allowed himself to relax just a little. The kid was safe, at least for tonight, and that was enough.

If you're in the basic criteria , are DSMP fans, vivziep0p fans , h0tel/h3lluva b0ss fans, Owl h0use fans, St4r butterfly fans, Ghibli fans, ddlg/abdl blogs, nsfw/k!nk blogs, anti-agere blogs, or anti Christians/Christianity blogs : just dont interact !