#you don’t understand that one killed me

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon: interlude - a tango in barcelona | formula one imagine

interlude: a tango in barcelona

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

dancing around her teammate on and off track, y/n looks to boogie her troubles away.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

may 2020, spain.

life at mclaren hadn’t started the way y/n had hoped. the days were long and surprisingly quiet, the latter mostly due to her teammate and his aversion to acknowledging her existence. she was tired already this weekend and they hadn’t even raced yet.

the barcelona heat was making her race suit stick to her already just walking to the grid for the national anthem. “it’s hot as balls” y/n whined as she slipped between max and george while the choir set up ahead of them.

“oh my sweet summer child, we haven’t even gotten to singapore yet,” max said taking off his ice vest and fastening it to y/n.

“ugh don’t remind me,” y/n wiped more sweat off of her brow, “i think singapore might kill me.”

george laughed, moving his umbrella to the left so it covered y/n as well, “singapore is a baptism by fire, but you’ve done well so far this season so i don’t think you’ll have too hard a time.”

y/n smiled up at the taller brit, “thanks georgie, maybe if you’re such an expert in singapore you’ll be able to catch me.” she punctuated it with a wink, george nearly dropping the umbrella in response.

“do you mind? you nearly took my eye out with this thing!” max hissed at george, flicking the umbrella. george lifted the umbrella to get it out of eye range of the dutchman, who in turn saw it as an invitation to seek refuge in the shade.

“no way verstappen, this umbrella is for pretty people only,” george grabbed y/n’s hand and moved them a couple steps away.

“if that was so, only y/n would be allowed under it beanstalk.”

“if my height is the only thing you can think to insult me about, i can live.”

“oh believe me there’s a lot more stored up, i just wouldn’t want to give you any inspiration for when you take out a backmarker and blame everyone but yourself.”

y/n sighed dramatically, “already? i thought you two were going to cool it down this season. i don’t even understand how you have a rivalry, you’re nowhere near him on track george…” george let out a scandalised squeal, “oh my bad george, you know what i meant.”

“i think what y/n means is that she doesn’t rate you ‘mr saturday’”.

as george went to bite back but the loud horns of the national anthem cut their quarrel off early. y/n fought to keep her laugh in throughout the national anthem, seeing george seething in her peripheral vision. he was so easy to rattle it was practically a pastime of half the grid at this point.

before george could get a dig back in, y/n and max were back in deep conversation, discussing their approach to turn two with just minutes until the formation lap. he yearned to be the one that y/n spilled her tips, tricks and secrets to but like most of his life, the dutchman had beaten him to that honour. now he knew how lando felt.

lando, george and alex had bonded long before 2018, but their three-way title fight in formula two brought them closer rather than forcing them apart. george cherished that friendship, he found it invaluable to have two of his closest friends with him as they entered the cutthroat world of formula one - he just wished he could’ve been that person for y/n.

lando didn’t often articulate it well, but george understood his curly-haired friend’s struggles. lando had gushed all off season about having y/n as his teammate, chatting animatedly about potential roadtrips, shared flights and sleepovers before it was all snuffed out in a moment. george always suspected that lando felt more about their friend than he let on (or thought he let on). once he had thought it was a victim of circumstance, teenage boys discovering what these new hormones were doing to their body did tend to fixate on the one girl in their midst. but as they grew up, that puppy love crush didn’t seem to wain, not that anyone else around them seemed to notice.

a single comment from one max verstappen crushed that. a late night discord call between the rookie trio and max had naturally seen the topic of y/n arise. lando, as usual, started to wax lyrical about the season ahead, with his vision for their teammate relationship constructed in his head.

“mate, we’ve already started.”

“huh?” lando’s voice stuttered over the call, he cleared his throat, “what do you mean?”

“y/n and i,” max continued, “we’ve already started doing sim runs together, watching onboards and all that jazz.” the dutchman said it so casually, unaware of lando’s imminent heartbreak - george’s too, he just hid it better.

“but why? i’m going to be her teammate, not you? why would she even use your sim, she’s racing for mclaren next year not red bull.”

not noticing the path they were hurtling down, max dug his foot in, “no offence lando, but if y/n wants my tips, i’m going to give it to her. it’s noble for you to want to look out for her, but realistically what tips could you give her that are better than mine… i am the only one here who has actually won a race.”

alex loudly coughed, stopping max before he could continue. “it’s getting late, maybe we should call it a night?”

“it’s nine o’clock?” max questioned.

“no, i’m tired,” lando let out an undoubtedly fake yawn, “i think it’s time for bed.”

“okay suit yourselves,” max said, going back to his iracing, “lando, don’t take it too personally that she chose me. we’ve been friends for so long, we don’t know anything but each other.”

“i’ve known her just as long as you!”

it was starting to get a little heated and despite alex and george trying to interject, the two kept going.

“you may have known her just as long, but you don’t know her. we’ve been there for each other at our lowest and our highest. it’s not a competition. i honestly hope she comes to you next season, i don’t trust your team as far i can throw them. it will be good to have someone in her corner.”

“oh well if you’re that magnificent then why can’t you be her white knight all the way from red bull, huh?”

“you know what lando, we’ll talk about this again once you’ve shaken off this weird primal urge you have to ‘claim’ her. a piece of advice, she won’t like that.”

“oh you insufferable little shit-”

“goodbye everyone!” alex interjected, kicking max out of the call.

“what the fuck was that lando?”

“you heard him, posterising, peacocking and then having the gall to say that i’m being territorial over y/n.”

george sighed, his affection for the same girl was going to have to be buried even deeper after this. “max wasn’t peacocking about y/n, lando. if anything he was showing off his wins rather than her,” alex tried to reason.

“no! he can’t let us - can’t let me have anything. it’s always been this way and with y/n it’s like he knows deep down that i want her so he has to have her instead. he’s clinging on to her and shoving it in my face - it’s not my fault he has a shit dad and he attached himself to her because she was the only one not afraid of him - so why am i being punished for it?”

lando’s outburst rendered alex and george silent. the older one was horrified to say the least, the season hadn’t even started and lando’s jealousy was already out of hand.

“lando, that was too far…” alex said softly.

“no! he thinks that because he has a shitty sob story that he can just claim her? she’s her own person!”

“right. i’m going to stop you there before you say something that’ll make me hate you for real. you need to get over what ever the fuck this is so you can be a normal fucking human being next season,” alex tried to reason with lando.

“i am in love with her!”

“are you? or are you in love with the thought of what could happen? have you actually stopped and wondered whether y/n likes you or even likes men? for someone so protective over her, you haven’t considered her feelings too much.”

lando has the foresight to look a little guilty. george stayed silent, he knows alex is suspicious of him too, but that can of worms can wait until another day.

“you need to get a life and calm down. max is one of your best friends and i know deep down you didn’t mean a word you said tonight but you need to get a grip before you say any of that in front of him or y/n because i’m sorry but i won’t be stopping them if they try to hit you.”

lando doesn’t say anything, but the guilty look on his face says enough.

“goodnight.”

the call ended there and was never brought up again. george watched y/n waltz back towards the mclaren garage, a big gap between her and lando. there had been no more outbursts since that night but if what george overheard from daniel, lando had still managed to completely screw himself. was george that angry at that news? not really.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

the race was pretty uneventful, barcelona usually was. y/n started in sixth and managed to pip charles to fifth after ferrari screwed up his pitstop once again. despite her deep love for sangria, y/n didn’t really feel like leaving her hotel room after she had scrubbed all of the sweat and grime off in the shower.

she was pleased with her points haul, smiling to herself in debrief as they analysed lando’s first lap incident with pierre gasly that lando just insisted was no fault of his own…

her ring tone invaded her peaceful evening, the name ‘albono’ flashing up on her phone. pressing accept,

“how can i help you on this fine evening, mr albon?”

“well i find myself in this fine dancing establishment, looked around and thought it was crying out for a little y/n y/ln action.”

“dancing you say?”

“i’m 100% serious, sebastian of all people has dragged also to a bar where they’re attempting to teach us the tango…”

“oh i love the tango! it’s my favourite dance on strictly…”

“so what i’m hearing is that i should get a tequila sunrise in preparation for your arrival?”

y/n sighed, “yes you may.”

“score! i’ll send you the address and an uber. see you soon.”

so there goes her quiet night in, but who wouldn’t love the chance to tango with your close friends in under the stars? and she had packed her little red number… maybe the y/n who packed that suitcase all those days knew something current y/n didn’t.

y/n elected to skip most of her makeup routine, her skin sensitive from all the sweat in her balaclava, swiping on some mascara, lip gloss and a healthy dose of blush. like alex said, the uber was waiting for her outside the lobby.

the outside of the bar looked closer to a college dive bar than somewhere you’d expect to find a group of formula one drivers, but she suspects that’s why sebastian chose it.

“buenes noches senorita,” fernando alonso gave her a spin on entry.

“gracias nando,” she curtsied in front of the spaniard, drawing a laugh out of the elder driver, “i am sorry to cut this short, but i am tired and i fear i have already promised my one dance to another.”

“how will i ever recover?”

“i think you’ll find a way old man.”

“you wound me, but alex is waiting for you by the bar.”

y/n made her way through the bar, spotting several drivers caught up in their dancing lessons from the locals. she tapped alex on the shoulder, with the tall driver turning, wielding her tequila sunrise.

“nice of you to turn up at last,” alex teased, handing her the drink.

“i’ll have you know i was snuggled up ready for some netflix action before you called.”

“you came all this way for a dance with little ol’ me?”

“of course, alex. i have missed you.”

“i have missed you too, the red bull stuff is piling up and i have been neglecting my big brother duties, i’m sorry. not that it seems to be effecting your rookie season too much.”

“don’t worry about me alex, i’m proud of you and what you’re doing at red bull, even if they’re being unreasonably hard on you.”

alex led her to the middle of the dance floor and put one hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder. they started to move to the music,

“i just miss when it was more laidback. i barely have time to stop between sim sessions and media duties and performance meetings. i miss sitting in your driver room laughing at your instagram private messages and watching stupid adam sandler movies.”

alex spun her and as she came back to him she said, “we can still do that alex! you don’t have to be alone, we can still watch adam sandler movies and ignore calls from helmut.”

alex smiled at her as the music slowed down.

“i wish i was here for you more in your rookie season,” alex laments but y/n interjects, “it’s only the fourth race. you’re focused on you and i wouldn’t want anything else. there’s time for us to find our way back to each other. you're a brother to me, like blood, there’s nothing that can destroy that bond.”

“i’m sorry lando is being a prick.”

“it is what it is.”

“no it’s not. we had each other last year, he should be there for you.”

“it’s whatever, i have max, i have you, i’ll survive.”

the music came to an end. the two embraced but when they broke apart y/n started heading for the exit, picking up max on the way through, the dutchman having already booked them an uber. y/n turned and waved to alex, she meant it when she said it was just one dance. she made a ‘call me sign’ and mouthed ‘adam sandler’ before rushing out of the bar with max.

alex turned and made his way to george who was still nursing his first drink at the bar. george didn’t respond when alex prompted him. the thai man nudged george laughing about how ‘y/n knows how to make a short and sweet appearance’ but still got nothing.

“you’re not seriously angry about a tango are you george?”

“no.”

“you’re a terrible liar,” alex whispered, “not as bad as lando but terrible nonetheless.”

“at least i’m not taking it out on her like lando.”

“no, you just use max as target pratice on your dart board for shits and giggles.”

“whatever.”

“fine, deal with it how you wanna big boy, but if you turn out like lando right now, i’ll be down two best friends and up two murder charges.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

fin.

note: my first interlude! @deviltsunoda and i came up with these ideas so i could write shorter things while i have work and you guys still get fed! so enjoy this lil exploration into y/n and alex's friendship (they are so precious to me!) and why lando is being such an asshole... enjoy! the weekend should bring chapter four.

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn @blueberry648579 @dog-and-cat-person230 @fastandcurious16 @obxstiles @cosmicwintr @becca388510 @savagittariuspy

[demonic0angel]

Prolonged ecto contamination can cause regenerative abilities. This is great when something important is stabbed or a limb is lost. But for other things, not so much.

“Daddy,” A five year old cried, “somethings wrong with mommy!”

Jason ran to his and his wifes room. He stopped by the door, taking in Jazz's tense still frame perched on the edge of their bed. She gazed at a small cylinder object cluched in her hands.

"Jazz?" Jason called.

She slowly lifted her gaze to him and turned the object around, revealing two pink lines.

"Is-is that an old one?" Jason stammered.

Jazz moved her head to side to side.

"Defective?"

"I've done ten of them, all the same."

But, but that couldn't be. Jason mentally floundered. After a failed vasectomy resulting in kid numer six and then a failed tube tying causeing baby number seven, Jazz had a hysterectomy.

Jason opened his mouth to address this but then remembered that their kids were in the room. It wouldn't be good for kids to witness their parents having a meltdown over a positive pregnancy test. Or discuss a possible lawsuit against a certain hospital and surgeon.

Switching gears, Jason called to his kids, "Come on tribe! To the living room for a movie."

"What about Mommy?" the five year old protested.

"Don't worry," Jason scooped up his kid and pecked her forehead. "Your dad got this," he said with way more confidence than he felt.

(OML I LITERALKY FUCKING ROLLED WHEN I SAW THIS ASK ASDFGHHKLLL THIS IS SO FUNNY BC IN MY ORIGINAL IDEAS ABIUT ANGER MANAGEMENT, THEY HAVE 5 KIDS)

Jazz stared at him blankly. Jason stared back. They both stared at each other. Then he admitted, “I don’t think I got this.”

Thank goodness their oldest, Elinor, was able to understand and distract all of her siblings. Now it was just Jason, Jazz, and their Ancient ghost dog alone to discuss what to do next.

Jazz continued staring at him, holding Shadow in her arms before she said, “Y’know, we could….”

“Don’t even start,” he said in exasperation. While he would always give her the choice, he knew that none of them would actually genuinely consider it.

She sighed. “I know. I want it anyways. It’s mine. It’s our baby.”

Her possessiveness was so cute. Jason reached over to hug her, squeezing her gently and placing his chin on her head. It was a bit difficult due to her height, but she hunched over to tuck herself into his arms, so it was a little easier.

“We’ll handle it. Together, like always. It’s not like we’re lacking in money anyways. And we have plenty of rooms and we can get help from our support groups. I can take another break from being Red Hood and you’ve never stopped your online therapy sessions, so I think we can do this.”

Jazz sighed, nodding before she suddenly groaned aloud and used a fist to hit Jason’s chest. Jason blinked. “What?”

“You know what my siblings call me?! They call Miss Weasley! At this rate, we’ll have a football team by the time we’re done!”

Jason tried not to laugh but a twitch must’ve alerted Jazz to his amusement because she looked up at him and glared. Shadow growled lightly on her lap. She scolded, “You’re giving the news to our families again. And I won’t stop Dan from trying to kill you this time.”

“Even if it makes you a single mother to 7 kids?” Jason asked idly.

Jazz paused and then she cursed softly. Jason snorted into her shoulder before Jazz then said, “I think after this, we’re using condoms again.”

Horrified, Jason lifted his head up and stared at her in disbelief and shocked horror. “What!”

“Jason! We have 7 kids now! Can I please get a break!”

Jason groaned, long and loud. Then he sighed, rubbing Jazz’s sides in faux sadness as he bemoaned, “Fine… since I love you so much… I’ll wear protection next time…”

Jazz pinched his cheek with a little narrowed eye stare and smile, shaking lightly but she said, “Thank you, dearest. We’ll handle this together, alright? It won’t be easy, but we’ve done this six times before, we can do this a seventh time. I think I should ask Dan how he does it…” she mumbled more plans to herself, as Jason just held her, closing his eyes.

If his past self was ever told that he’d have a wife and seven kids, he was sure that he’d probably snitch to the cops that someone was hallucinating.

Not that he’d ever trade this for the world, of course.

[exocaliii]

❦︎ And You Look Half Dead Half The Time

(pt. 1) (pt. 2)

| Kang No-eul / Guard 011 x fem!reader |

side! | Se-mi / Played 380 x fem!reader |

Summary: For six years, you've watched your best friend and only companion mourn a child she barely got to know. Now, you're given a chance that might finally rid her of this lifelong guilt.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: death, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, making-out, fingering + cunnilingus (r! receiving), bathroom sex, one use of Y/N even though I tried my best to avoid it lol, extreme jealousy/possessiveness, no-eul is not playing about her girl in this one LOL

A/N: finally reached the romance stuff in this one but there's still some build-up of course, hope you all enjoy and as always, i appreciate any type of feedback or comments, they make the writing worth it!! :D this is so self indulgent omg

—

When the platform begins to spin, you feel a firm grip on your hand, looking up to find Se-mi already staring at you with a calm expression on her face.

“Stick with me.” 

You nod, and before you’re able to check on Min-su, you’re nearly thrown off your feet by the sudden stop of the surface you’re on. 

“10 players.” 

The boom of the announcer clears your senses, and as Thanos and Nam-gyu laugh and spin, you see another group of five waving their hands for more people. You shout at the loudest volume you’ve used since arriving here for them to come over, and with a tight grip on Se-mi’s hand, you drag her to the open room right across the arena. Thanos, Nam-gyu, and Min-su (who you can now see was hiding behind Se-mi) follow right along, and, thank goodness, the other team of 5 do the same. 

“Are you okay?” You don’t respond to Se-mi's question because the answer should be obvious with the way you’re trembling, but she only nods in understanding. “Just stay calm, it’ll be fine.” You want to believe her, you truly do, but you see Min-su’s fear, and in that moment, you accept that this may be the game that kills you. 

The lock clicks open.

Your group of ten steps out, stepping over the blood of those who lost the last round.

You want to retch, but you stay focused and get back on the platform. 

With your hand in Se-mi’s, you block out the happy singing of Thanos and Nam-gyu, opting instead to pat Min-su’s back when you see him basically shaking like a leaf. He jumps, but turns to you with a grateful look in his eye. You pray that he lives, because someone like him should not die in a cold place like this.

“4 players.”

Your heart drops. Thanos glances back and forth between the three of you as Nam-gyu stands at his side. Your heart feels heavy in your chest, and your legs are stiff, ready to run. His eyes stop on Min-su, and you know what’s about to happen.

“You-”

“I’ll go.” 

Se-mi barely has a chance to react before you rip your hand from hers and run to find another group. Somewhere in the bustle of the crowd, you swear you hear her call your name, but you’re too locked onto three men in the distance. They’re already in the room, but they’re calling for a fourth person. Fear threatens to strangle you as you run over, the countdown playing loud in the overhead speaker. Their eyes are desperate, arms open to beckon you over to save both your life and theirs.

 

At the last second, you basically ram into one of the men as you barrel into the room, one of them slamming it shut behind you not even a second before the lock clicks. No one speaks as shots ring out from outside the room, and you begin to come to terms with your act of sacrifice for someone you had just met yesterday. 

Fuck, what were you thinking? Are you in this to win or not?

The lock clicks open, and you all step outside. There’s even more fresh blood on the ground, blood that you ignore as your eyes search the arena for your old group. 

“Y/N!”

You spin fast enough to snap your neck at the sound of her voice, and Se-mi runs over to you followed by the rest of the group. You think she’s about to hug you but she stops just short of it, arms lowering back to her side awkwardly before she resigns to grabbing you by the shoulders instead. For a second, you stare at each other in silence, neither knowing what to say.

“Oh shit, that was too cool girl.” Thano’s voice ruins the moment, but before you all begin heading back to the platform, you hear a soft voice from behind Se-mi.

“Thank you.” 

Min-su meekly looks at you with obvious guilt, and Se-mi drops her hands from your shoulders to take your hand as you all walk back towards the center. It’s comforting to have her hand in yours again (especially after you almost died letting go of it).

“It’s fine, I already saw the other group before leaving.” Obvious lie, but he didn’t need to know that. 

As you all begin to spin again, Se-mi gives your hand a short squeeze before looking down at you with a gentle smile that, as always, almost looks like a smirk.

“I was right about you.” You chuckle at this and turn away to hide your reddened face, but of course, the moment doesn’t last very long. 

“3 players.”

The three of you barely spare a glance at Thanos and Nam-gyu before you grab each other’s hands and run off, hearing the rapper scream a curse at your betrayal. You almost want to laugh, but you’re too focused on holding onto Se-mi and Min-su’s hands for dear life as you run towards one of the few open rooms still available. 

They’re filling up too quickly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see two other groups scrambling towards the one room you have your sights set on. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you come to the horrifying realization that groups of three might be too small to fit everyone that was still alive, even if they were all paired up. The thought makes your legs move that much faster, but just as you’re about to reach your safe haven, a body collides with yours and sends you flying towards the floor. 

10 seconds left.

“Min-su?!” He was on your left, but where is he?

7 seconds left.

“Get up, get inside the room!” Se-mi. You’re pretty sure it’s her rough hands that grab your sweater and pull you up.

5 seconds left.

“Where is he?! Min-su!” You stumble over your feet, your mind reeling as you’re bouncing back and forth between trying to find him and trying to follow Se-mi into the room.

3 seconds left.

“Wait! Wait, please help me!” He’s half on the ground, half fighting against a man trying to get up in front of him to enter a room to your right. You’re already in yours, and an arm wrapped tight around your waist prevents you from running out to save his life once again. 

1 second left.

“Let go! Min-su!” 

The buzzer sounds right as the door slams shut in your face.

The lock clicks shut.

Somewhere outside, you hear gunfire and the desperate cries of men and women who failed. 

For a second, you think you can hear him begging for his life, but then a single shot rings out and his fate is sealed.

—

Somewhere in the haze of emotions, you continue to grasp onto her arm like a lifeline. Your head rings, and you don’t even hear the announcer’s call for each of the next two rounds. It’s Se-mi who makes sure you’re right next to her the entire time, no matter which group you join or which room you scramble into. She doesn’t bother to ask if you’re okay (because it is extremely obvious this time, with tear tracks on your cheeks and shallow eyes staring into the distance), but her firm hold on you still shows her underlying care. That, and the slight shake of her body reminds you that despite her previous bravado and confidence, she’s still human just like you. 

When the game ends, you step over the blood of the losers to make it back to the main room (you wonder if you had stepped on Min-su’s as well - the thought of it makes you sick to your stomach). 

Thanos greets the two of you with excitement even after you left him and Nam-gyu in the dust, but you don’t even have it in you to entertain his antics now. Your head was pounding, and the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball on the spot was Se-mi’s arm around your shoulders; she was holding onto you like you would curl up and die if she let go, which you might. 

When you both settle into her bed, you really begin to feel the weight of his absence. 

“I’m sorry for grabbing you like that,” she says, her voice quiet as if you were a deer about to sprint away. “...You wouldn’t have made it in time-”

“I know.” You’re curt, almost rude, and you feel bad immediately for your outburst. It wasn’t her fault, you reminded yourself. It wasn’t her fault that your first selfless moment in this hellhole means nothing now. “I… I’m sorry. You saved my life. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” Her hand caresses yours, soothing you into finally allowing your tense body to relax.

Something about her gentle demeanor coaxes out a more peaceful side in you, and you lean your head on her shoulder. You’re pleasantly surprised at her lack of resistance, and something in your gut burns when she leans her head right back on yours. 

For a second, you think about No-eul and feel a strange amount of guilt creeping up on you, but Se-mi changes her grip on your hand slightly to interlace your fingers and it all goes away. You owe nothing to her. Companionship isn’t something she should bar you from looking for when you face death at her hands everyday now. 

What’s so wrong with finding your own comfort in the beautiful, kind, and unexpectedly soft woman sitting next to you? 

—

350 million won. 

It’s enough for those smugglers, enough for her, and so, it’s enough for you to change your vote. 

When red LEDs light up your face and you begin exchanging your blue patch for a red one, you feel the weight of the entire situation crashing down on you. 

You chose life this time. From now on, if you die, it won’t be of your own volition anymore. This fact disturbs you greatly, so you’re quick in pushing through the crowd to get right back to Se-mi’s side. You’re glad she chose to live too. If you made it out of here, you wouldn’t want to lose contact with her. Trauma bonds are pretty strong apparently. 

—

When two groups of men start walking out of the bathrooms covered in blood and money begins to fill the pig again, you shuffle a bit closer to Se-mi, and her grip on your hand tightens. 

Supposedly it was a brawl, and from the frantic head counts of both sides, the O’s had lost one extra man. The sight of a bloody Nam-gyu shuffling onto Thano’s bed, shaking from the drugs with a frantic, bloodthirsty look in his eyes made your stomach drop. Now, there was no idiotic rapper to take hold of his leash, and you were sure he would want to kill you two after you turned your backs on him twice. 

The cold steel of the fork you took from dinner provided a comforting weight inside your pocket. 

“Se-mi.” She turns towards you.

“Yeah?”

“Sleep on this side tonight, okay?” Your grip on her arm is tight and you know you must look completely shaken by now, but she still gives her signature confident smirk.

“Sure, but you better make it worth my while.”

Your face goes red and you scoff, making her chuckle. God, you’re glad you have someone like this by your side.

—

When the screams begin, you immediately dig into your pocket and pull out your makeshift weapon. You want to call out for her, but you’re terrified that if you make a single noise, you and her will be swarmed by the wolves tearing apart the people all around you. 

Where the fuck are the guards?! No, who are you kidding, of course they would sit by and let you kill each other. Probably the highlight of their night. Under the fear, you feel so much anger and pain at the situation that you can barely focus.  

No-eul’s face flashes in your mind once again but now, you’re beginning to struggle to differentiate her from the other murderers all around you. 

No, no, no. You can’t think that way. She’s not like any of them.

“You traitor bitch!” You turn your head down to look for the familiar voice, and to your utter horror, Nam-gyu is standing right below you. Across from him (and cornered against the wall) is Se-mi. Even with the strobing lights, you can see the intense fear under her angry expression. “I’m gonna fucking gut you!”

When he charges at her, you make one of the easiest choices of your entire life and roll off the side of the bunk. 

You nearly miss your landing, but your fork doesn’t and his scream of pain reveals that instantly. You take both him and yourself to the ground, but your heart is racing and you can still feel him bucking from beneath you, so you don’t get a chance to breathe before yanking the fork out of his shoulder and slamming it back down into the side of his neck. The feeling of it sinking it and spraying your hand with hot blood is sickening beyond belief, but you block out everything except the feeling of his squirming beneath you and raise the metal above your head again. 

You aren’t sure how many times you bring it down on him, but a body colliding into yours knocks you out of your spiral.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Se-mi’s voice barely comprehends in your ears, but you can feel her arms around you clearly. “He’s dead, it’s okay, we’re okay.” Her hand rubs your back soothingly, and only then do you realize there are tears pouring down your cheeks.

Your chest heaves as you openly sob, clinging to her like a lifeline and unintentionally smearing the back of her sweater with Nam-gyu’s blood. You shut out everything but her voice, and even when the guards enter and fire into the air, you don’t find yourself flinching once, simply dropping to the floor still in her arms.

—

When some of the players gun down all the guards in the room, you hide in the corner with Se-mi (who was still whispering comforting words into your ears). You watch as players 120 and 456 take center stage in the room, shutting down the last bits of the riot and forcing the one square-mask guard onto his knees. They call for others to join them, others with military experience or even those with the faintest idea of how to use a gun. 

Of course, you had military experience right alongside No-eul, but the ache in your body and the tight grip Se-mi has on you keeps you from getting up. Your head pounds and spins as your eyes begin trailing around the slaughterhouse of a room. 

Dead people in green, dead people in pink. Your eyes linger on the guards and their triangle-masks, immediately recalling the shape No-eul had on hers. 

What if…

No.

The moment the team of rebels leaves, you go to get up but a tight grip on your forearm drags you right back down. 

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” Her eyes are confused but her voice is just as gentle as it’s been the entire time she sat there combing her fingers through your hair and whispering about how brave you were and how thankful she was. “Talk to me please, what’s wrong?”

“I just need to check something, that’s all.” She doesn’t look satisfied, but Se-mi lets you get up after you give her a brisk hug and a strained smile. 

With a shaky breath, you begin to make your rounds. You can feel the eyes on you as you walk up the first guard and pull off their mask, letting out a quiet sigh of relief at the lack of familiarity in their dead eyes. 

With each one, you grow more and more tense, steeling yourself for the possibility of seeing No-eul’s empty, dead eyes staring back at you. 

It would be the thing that kills you. The loss of your reason to fight in the first place. 

Kneeling down next to the final guard, you can barely breathe as your fingers brush against the edge of their mask. Your hands are shaking so bad and you curse yourself for your sudden lack of strength. You would die if it was her. You would pull that fork out of Nam-gyu’s neck and jam it in your own if it was her. 

Shutting your eyes tightly, you tug it off and let it clatter to the side. Your breathing slows when you peek and immediately recognize the face as belonging to a younger man’s, not your No-eul. 

Please God, give me this one thing and let her live. Let us leave with my blood money and never come back.

—

You can’t even feel joy or disappointment when the rebellion inevitably ends in a whimper. 

456 is dragged in and from a quick glance around the room, you see that 001 and 390 are missing as well. 120 and 388 sit dejectedly not too far away from you, and you can’t help but feel for them; they were people, far stronger than you, that failed to be the heroes. You can’t judge them, you never even considered fighting alongside these brave people in the first place. 

Now that everything has calmed down again and lights-out happens like every other night and not the bloodbath that ensued earlier, you’re far more aware of the sticky feeling of blood on your skin. Your sweater even feels slightly heavier, the entire front of it stained with deep red fluid.

“I-I need to wash this off.” Se-mi, who was almost drifting off next to you, shoots awake and gets up right behind you.

“I’ll come with you.” It’s an unspoken fact that she definitely would, but you’re still happy at the confirmation. 

In the haze of everything that’s occurred, you completely forget that No-eul has been the only reason you’ve been able to get into the bathroom these days, and the only reason she lets you in is because you’re you. So, when you call out and the door opens as usual, you’re confused at her stiff posture. However, after a weird awkward silence, she steps aside to let both you and Se-mi in, almost slamming the door behind you two. 

—

No-eul’s eyes trail you two as you enter the bathroom together, and she can barely control herself from charging in there and kicking 380 out altogether; she had warned you about people like her, so what were you still doing clinging to her side like that? Moreover, seeing the blood practically covering your entire front was like a gut punch. 

She should’ve been there. She should’ve blown the heads off of whoever did that to you. She’s been careless, and she understands that now.

The worst she felt was during the Mingle game. Each time she had been sent in, her breath would hitch and she would hesitate for a few seconds at the entrance, eyes scanning the wide open area for any signs of you. Every single time she failed to spot the number 037 on the clothes of those she shot, a weight would be lifted off of her shoulders. 

After the final round, the room doors had opened just before she was able to leave through the soldier’s door. She takes the chance to search for your kind face, and instead is faced with the sight of you practically hanging off of 380, a lost, soulless look in your eyes. Pain for your sadness mixes with some other ugly emotion, and for a second, she lets herself imagine how your expression would change if she sent a bullet through 380’s heart. 

Would you cry out for that woman, or would you call No-eul’s name out of instinct, like a lost animal begging for comfort?

In the end, she simply leaves with her fellow soldiers, silently cursing herself for such a violent thought. 

—

As you scrub the blood off your face, neck, and hands, you do your best to not let your gaze drift back over to Se-mi. She finishes cleaning up long before you, and you can feel her eyes on you as you scrub away. But no matter how hard you seem to scratch at your hands, the faint red tint just won’t come out. Your breathing grows heavy, and you begin to rub at it harder with the soap. 

Your hands are still red.

The blood from his neck covers your hands, the sounds, the sounds-

“That’s good enough,” a soft voice sounds from beside you, gently taking your hands in hers as you shake.

“No, no, there’s still blood, I-, there’s still…” You turn your hands this way and that, examining them and the red tint you can’t seem to get rid of.

“It’s not blood, you’ve just been rubbing too hard…” She shushes you gently and her thumbs begin tracing circles on your raw palms. “I’m sorry you had to do that, I really am.”

You can only shake your head and press your face in the crook of her neck. It’s a familiar position, one you were in only last night but with a completely different woman. She’s just as soft as No-eul, but she doesn’t wrap her arms around your body and pull you close. Instead, her fingers find the zipper of your bloodied sweater and gently begin to pull it down. The motion makes you back away a little, and she lets your sweater fall to the ground after tugging it off you. 

It’s freeing without the weight of all that blood on you, and your heart swells when she takes off her own jacket to put it on you. This is the kind of care you rarely find yourself receiving, and whenever you did, it was usually by the hand of only one other person. You would have never expected the cocky, confident girl you met two days ago would become this important to you. 

You were right about her. Se-mi was the ever genuine, ever caring woman you hoped she was after your first real conversation together, and you wonder if the world finally decided to go easy on you for once by sending you a beacon of strength in the middle of this hellhole. 

“Thank you, Se-mi,” you breathe out, the feeling of her fingertips grazing the skin of your arms still present long after her hands have dropped back to her side.

She doesn’t respond. Her gaze is still heavy on you, but this time, you hold eye contact and let yourself drown in her eyes. For a split second, you’re sure you see them dart down to your lips, and you think she might just eat you alive with the way she’s examining you.

In an act that surprises even yourself, it’s you who leans forward and presses your lips against hers. Cliche fireworks don’t go off, but the second she reciprocates by grabbing the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, you feel the tension between you two finally reach a high point, and it’s euphoric.

You hold each other with pure, unadulterated desire as one of her hands travel down to your waist, pulling you in. The kiss deepens and somewhere in the back of your mind, you think of No-eul. She was right outside that door, what if you were caught?

What the hell are you thinking about right now?

“You’re beautiful, so perfect,” she whispers, and her words make your heart beat that much faster. “My brave girl.” Se-mi breaks the kiss to press her lips against your neck now instead, drawing a moan from deep in your throat. She’s still holding onto you like her life depends on it. 

Unfortunately, your mind is still whirling and you have to remind yourself once again that you owe No-eul absolutely nothing. She shouldn’t and wouldn’t be angry over you finding someone to love, who loved you in a place like this. Is it wrong to search for comfort when you’re so sure you might die tomorrow? Especially from someone like Se-mi, who has done nothing but protect you and care for you.

Your hands tangle in her hair as she slides a hand beneath your shirt-

“Player 380.”

You spin around as the door slams open, a gruff voice making you jump apart from Se-mi. You shouldn’t feel ashamed, but you do, especially when you can feel No-eul’s eyes trailing up and down your disheveled form, and you know she knows exactly what happened here.

“Get back to the room.” You look down to see her revolver gripped tightly in her hand, as if she’s fighting the urge to lift it.

“Just give us a couple more-”

“Now.” She practically growls out that last word, and you can hear a click in the silent bathroom as she loads her revolver at her side. 

Se-mi is brave, but she’s still smart enough to realize that she’s being threatened and would not win a fight against the taller woman with a loaded gun. WIth her head held high, she takes your hand and begins walking around the guard, but No-eul steps in her way and shakes her head.

“037 stays.” You all pause, and Se-mi grips your hand tighter.

“What? What the fuck are you on about? Just let us go back to the room-”

“She stays. Now get out before I make you.” No-eul takes a step forward, hand raising to point the barrel of the gun in Se-mi’s face. 

It’s difficult to hold herself back when she’s this close to doing what she wants with this random woman who’s begun impeaching on her world. The barrier holding you and No-eul together, apart from everyone else, has been disrupted, and she begins to wonder if you’ll actually hate her if she pulls the trigger now. She wants to, especially hearing you fucking moan for this woman.

Where else has she touched you? 

Her trigger finger twitches. 

“It’s okay, Se-mi,” you whisper, breaking your gaze from No-eul to look over at her. 

First name basis? You really want her to kill this woman.

“Just go, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Se-mi looks at you, confusion apparent in her features, but your face is perfectly calm and even though that disturbs her a little, she accepts it. She’ll trust you to stay alive with this psycho.

“Okay, just call out for me if you need anything.” No-eul scoffs at this, earning a glare from Se-mi before she walks out the bathroom. She spares you one final glance over her shoulder, and with a nod from you, she exits.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh?!” You’re practically burning with anger at her behavior, but No-eul ignores your outburst and walks over to the door, turning the latch to lock it before turning back around to look at you. “You think ‘cause you have that mask on you can just go around pointing your gun at everyone?!”

“And what the hell were you doing?” She pulls her mask off, throwing it to the floor before pulling down her face covering. Now, you can actually see the anger simmering beneath her eyes, an accusatory look on her face as she steps closer. “Were you planning on having sex with her or something? This stranger you just met?”

Your face begins to burn for a different reason now.

“That’s… that’s none of your business. I’m a grown woman, I can decide what I want to do or not do.” Your voice is far too unsure and she laughs sarcastically. Running a hand through her sweaty hair, she approaches to stand right in front of you. Your breathing slows as her eyes trail down your face, locking onto the number 380 right above your heart. Her lips curl into a frown and she grabs Se-mi’s sweater, looking like she wanted to burn a hole through the number on your chest. 

To her, it’s a reminder of her failure to protect you as she swore she always would, and now, in the wake of this failure, another person has come along and threatened to take her place - a place in your life she would kill anyone to keep. 

“Take this off,” she breathes out. The air is tense, and you almost want to deny her just to see what she would do, but fuck, she almost looks genuinely hurt and you can’t say no now. 

With your eyes still locked onto hers, you slowly pull the sweater off and let it drop to the ground at your feet. Her eyes are still pinned to your chest, but now you’re so close that you can feel her soft breathing on your face. You swallow harshly and press your face against her shoulder, bunching up her pink tracksuit in your hands as you pull her closer. The feeling of her so close again kills all the tension in your shoulders. This is the safest you’ve felt in 24 hours, and it’s in the arms of a woman who’s been killing people like you the entire time. 

You’re almost a bit ashamed, but what’s wrong with being a bit selfish for once?

You’re shaking in her arms when she pulls back slightly to cup your wet cheeks in her hands. You hadn’t even realized you had started crying again, but now, she’s looking down at your glassy eyes and swollen lips with so much intensity that you forget why you were crying in the first place. Her thumb swipes a tear off your cheek before she leans down, lips brushing against yours. 

“My beautiful girl.”

Finally, nine years after the day you met, she presses her lips against yours and claims you as hers. Faintly, you feel your back collide with the wall behind you as her tongue slips in your mouth. You’re holding onto her suit for dear life as she practically devours you, and you wonder how you were ever angry at this woman. It’s far more intense than the softness you experienced earlier with Se-mi, and you’re beginning to feel the effects of being pent up for so long. 

It’s not like you’ve never had sex with her before (to be fair, it’s only happened once), but this was far too emotional to be compared to the drunken haze you were both in when she fucked you over the seat of her van. There were no kisses shared then, no gentle caress of your face before she took you for herself. 

You’re dragged from your own thoughts when you feel a hand slide under your shirt and bra, gasping into her mouth as a cold hand cups your breast, roughly pinching your nipple between two fingers. You whimper right into her ear as her lips move down to your neck, sucking and biting as you openly pant. She’s practically surrounded you by now, but it’s not enough. 

With trembling hands, you grab the zipper of her pink suit and yank it down to reveal her slender body underneath. She practically tears the black turtleneck underneath the suit off as you stare. Your fingers scratch down her toned torso and you drink in the wonderful groan that leaves her mouth. As you’re preoccupied, she tugs on the hem of your sweatpants, pulling them down right along with your panties in one pull. 

Faintly, as her hands grip the plush of your thighs, you try to determine if you’ve ever felt such strong feelings of desire, of love, of anything with anybody. 

No, you’re sure you’ve felt this before. 

Your eyes shoot open as she calls your name. Somewhere in the haze, No-eul has dropped to her knees in front of you, and now, she’s looking at you like you hold the world in your hands.

“Do you still love me?” A pause, and her fingers press harder into your thigh, cold leather gloves long forgotten on the floor. “Can you still accept me?”

Every moment that you remember being so close to that overwhelming emotion, No-eul is right there next to you. 

“I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

A tear falls from her pained eyes, but you aren’t given the opportunity to wipe it away before she leans forward and presses her open mouth against your core. A gasp leaves your mouth and you immediately tangle your fingers in her short hair. It’s a bit too much to take in all at once - the woman you’ve loved for years is fucking you, and this time, you think she might actually love you back.

No, who are you kidding, you know she loves you. Maybe not as much as you love her, but she has to love you if she’s on her knees like this for you.

With the comfort of this knowledge, you lean your head back and lose yourself in the feeling of her tongue deep inside you, strong hands holding you still against the wall even if your legs feel like giving out. As your moans and pants fill the room, you beg internally that Se-mi isn’t waiting right outside the door to walk you back (or at least let the sound-proofing be decent). 

Unsurprisingly, after a couple years without any genuine intimacy with anyone (you couldn’t bear to let anyone fuck you after No-eul did), you reach your peak quickly. It doesn’t feel like some triumphant moment; your legs shake as the tight coil in your stomach unwinds and it’s satisfying to some extent, but you can’t stop the sudden rush of tears that follow. 

Why did your acceptance of your feelings for her have to come in a place like this - covered in the blood of someone you killed with your own two hands? 

Your legs finally give out in your grief, but she’s quick to catch you, leaning back to properly sit down on the floor as she carefully guides you onto her lap. For a moment, you just tuck your head in her neck and cry as a hand gently rubs your back. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” No-eul whispers, caught up in her own guilt for leading you down the same hateful path she accepted long ago. Why did you have to love her? Why did you have to follow her road towards self-destruction, the one she vowed to shield you from?

You want to tell her that she has nothing to be sorry about because you chose all of this on your own, but you can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re worried that if you open your mouth now, all you’ll do is start spouting nonsense about how much you love her and how much of your humanity you would forsake to protect her dream. 

Instead of further exposing yourself, you gently take the hand she’s kept on your waist and guide it down lower once again. To her credit, she understands right away and you’re given no time to prepare for the two long, slender fingers she pushes inside you. The sound of your sharp inhale right next to her ear must’ve been enough confirmation that you were okay, because she immediately starts moving them up and down inside you, rubbing gently against your still sensitive walls. 

Your hands wrap around her back and grip her shoulders as your hips begin to move in tandem with her hands, your heavy breathing a stark contrast against her soft one. The hand she had on your back is still there, soothing you until your tears turn from ones of sadness to ones of pleasure. 

As the high you’re chasing starts to get closer, you tear your nails down her back. Even though she’s still the same person as she was minutes ago, something feels different this time.

“Please don’t stop, please-”

“I won’t, I swear.” The hand on your back flies down to grip your hips to hold you steady as your movements grow more frantic. “I’ll never let you go, not for anything.”

You almost fall forward when she suddenly leans back, but you catch yourself on her shoulders once again. This time, she looks you square in the eyes as she pushes you over the edge, her gaze filled with an emotion you know too well.

“I love you,” she breathes out, and this is all you need to fall apart in her hands. “I’m in love with you, I can’t let you go, I won’t.”

In the afterglow of the moment, she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you right up against her body.

“Even if you can’t love me anymore, I’ll continue holding onto you for the rest of my life.”

You smile at her words. You feel more content than you ever have before.

It wouldn’t be so bad to die in this place now.

—

A/N: my bad min-su fans and nam-guy fans, its for the plot y'all😭😭also if im being completely honest, I started writing writing this longass story just for smut with no-eul but it got so unexpectedly deep cuz I couldn't handle writing it with no build-up or emotional tension or ANYTHING

hope y'all enjoyed and LOL to the fellow FREAKS out there I hope the smut was alright cuz that was the most difficult part for me... LMK WHAT U THINK!! pt. 3 is coming in SEVEN MONTHS LMFAO😭😭😭SEASON 3 SAVE ME... SAVE ME SEASON 3

also if u request feel free to add details and stuff I might be able to build it into a longass story like this (but WOW this took too long) also I LOVE TO WRITE SAD SHT!!! SEND ME SAD SHT ILL LOVE IT!!

Taglist: @asvterias

[elryuse]

Yandere Wonyoung x Male Reader

Wonyoung & y/n have been friends since childhood and promised to get married when they grow up..but since Wonyoung became an idol and got great success, she start to forget y/n and said rude things to y/n..at the same time, she's in a relationship with a male idol..y/n knows about it and feels very disappointed and slowly forgets Wonyoung

a few months later, Wonyoung compared between that male idol with y/n and felt that y/n was the best..after that, she start tracking y/n & willing to kill anyone who stood in her way.

The Price of a Broken Promise

Yandere Wonyoung X Male Reader

The rain poured heavily outside as Wonyoung sat alone in her luxurious apartment, staring blankly at the dim glow of her phone. News articles, tweets, and viral videos filled the screen, all focused on the same scandal: San, her boyfriend, caught cheating with another idol. The images of him smiling, holding someone else’s hand, sent a sharp pang through her chest.

The betrayal stung, but it wasn’t just San’s actions that haunted her tonight. As she curled up on the couch, her mind drifted back to a promise she had made long ago, to someone who had once meant everything to her.

“Y/n,” she whispered his name for the first time in years, the sound foreign yet painfully familiar.

She closed her eyes, letting the memories resurface. She saw his shy smile, the way his hand would always reach for hers as they walked home together. He had been her anchor, her unwavering support during the uncertain days of their childhood.

But she had let him go.

Her fame as an idol had taken over her life, pulling her further and further away from the boy who had once been her entire world. It wasn’t just time or distance that had severed their bond—it was her own selfishness.

“Wonyoung, don’t forget me, okay?” Y/n had said once, his voice soft but earnest.

“I could never forget you,” she had replied with a laugh, brushing off his concern. But she had forgotten him—forgotten their promise, forgotten his love.

And worse, she had pushed him away.

Her chest tightened as she remembered their last conversation, months before she debuted. He had called her late at night, worried about her.

“Wonyoung, are you okay? You haven’t replied to my texts,” he had said, his voice full of concern.

“I’m fine, Y/n. I’m just busy,” she had replied coldly.

“I just wanted to remind you I’m here for you—always.”

“I don’t need you,” she had snapped, her frustration boiling over. “Stop calling me.”

She could still hear the silence that followed, the hurt in his voice when he finally said, “Okay. I understand.”

That had been the last time she heard from him.

Now, years later, she realized the enormity of her mistake. Y/n had been the one constant in her life, the one person who had loved her unconditionally. And she had thrown him away for a fleeting romance with someone who didn’t even care enough to stay faithful.

The guilt hit her like a tidal wave. She grabbed her phone, her hands trembling as she searched for his number.

Her heart sank when the call didn’t go through.

“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She tried again, but the same robotic message greeted her.

“Why did I let you go?” she sobbed, clutching the phone to her chest.

The days that followed were a blur. Wonyoung couldn’t focus on anything—rehearsals, photoshoots, interviews. Her manager noticed the change.

“Wonyoung, what’s going on with you?” he asked one afternoon, his tone sharp. “You’re distracted, and it’s starting to show.”

“I just need some time,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“Time for what? You have responsibilities, a career—”

“I need to find someone,” she interrupted, her voice trembling.

Her manager stared at her, baffled. “What are you talking about? You don’t have time for this.”

“I don’t care!” she snapped, standing abruptly. “I’ve already lost the most important person in my life because of this career. I’m not losing him forever.”

“Wonyoung, be reasonable—”

“I’m done listening to reason,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m going to find Y/n.”

She spent weeks searching, reaching out to mutual friends, scouring social media, even looking through old emails in the hope of finding some trace of him. It was through one of those emails that she found an old message from him, dated two years ago.

Wonyoung,

I know you’re busy, and I know your life is different now. But I just wanted to remind you that I’m still here. If you ever need me, just call.

- Y/n

Her tears blurred the screen as she read his words. He had been there for her, even when she didn’t deserve it. And now he was gone.

Wonyoung’s search eventually led her to New York, where she had heard he had moved. She didn’t know what she would say if she found him. She didn’t even know if he would want to see her. But she had to try.

When she finally knocked on the door of a small apartment in the city, her heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear the rain that drenched her.

The door opened, and there he was.

“Y/n,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He stared at her in shock, his expression unreadable. “Wonyoung?”

Before she could stop herself, tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Y/n stepped back, his face hardening. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Why now?” he asked, his tone cold. “After all this time, why now?”

She collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “I was selfish. I hurt you, and I let you go. I let everything go, and I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone.”

“You don’t get to just walk back into my life,” he said, his voice sharp. “You don’t get to show up here and expect me to forgive you.”

“I know,” she said, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please… just listen to me.”

Y/n clenched his fists, his emotions a whirlwind of anger, pain, and something else he couldn’t quite name. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? You made me feel like I was nothing. Like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” she said desperately. “You mattered more than anything. I was just too blind to see it.”

He shook his head, turning away. “Why are you really here, Wonyoung? Is it guilt? Regret? What do you want from me?”

“I want you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want to make things right. I want to keep the promise we made.”

Y/n froze, her words cutting through him like a knife. For so long, he had dreamed of hearing her say those words. But now that she had, it felt hollow.

“You don’t get to fix this with a few words,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Trust doesn’t work like that. Love doesn’t work like that.”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking. “I know it’ll take time. But I’ll wait. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Y/n looked at her, searching her face for sincerity. For the first time, he saw it—the raw, unfiltered regret and love she had buried for so long.

But trust wasn’t something that could be rebuilt overnight. And love, once broken, wasn’t so easily mended.

Wonyoung returned to Seoul after her meeting with Y/n, but she wasn’t the same. The regret and longing that had once been a dull ache had transformed into something far more potent. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face—his indifferent expression, his cold tone. The man she had once known as her Y/n was no longer hers.

And that thought drove her mad.

She sat in her darkened apartment, scrolling through her phone for the hundredth time. She had found his social media accounts, though they were sparse. His life seemed simple now—pictures of cityscapes, books, and an occasional group photo with friends. But it was the women in those group photos that caught her attention.

Who were they? Friends? Coworkers? Or something more?

Her grip on the phone tightened, her chest heaving with anger at the mere thought of Y/n laughing with another girl, confiding in someone else, smiling for someone else.

“No,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. “He’s mine. He promised me. We promised each other.”

Her thoughts spiraled, and with each passing day, her obsession grew.

Wonyoung began to neglect her career. She would cancel rehearsals, ignore her manager’s calls, and avoid public appearances. Instead, she spent her days tracking Y/n’s life from afar. She learned the names of his coworkers, memorized his daily routines, and even discovered where he liked to eat lunch.

One day, she booked a flight back to New York, unable to stay away any longer.

Y/n was sitting in a café near his office, typing away on his laptop, when he felt a familiar presence. He looked up, and his heart sank.

“Wonyoung?”

She stood there, her eyes red-rimmed but filled with a desperate kind of determination.

“I needed to see you,” she said softly, taking a seat across from him without waiting for an invitation.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone laced with frustration.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she admitted. “I’ve been thinking about you every day. I need to make this right.”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Wonyoung, we talked about this. I told you I needed time.”

“I know,” she said quickly, her voice trembling. “But I can’t wait. I can’t let you go. You’re all I think about, Y/n. I can’t… I can’t live without you.”

Her words unsettled him. There was something unhinged in the way she spoke, in the way her hands clenched the edge of the table as if holding on for dear life.

“You can’t force this,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You need to move on.”

“Move on?” she repeated, her eyes widening. “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Wonyoung, we were kids. Things are different now. You need to understand that.”

Her lips quivered, and tears welled up in her eyes. “No. No, you’re wrong. Things don’t have to be different. We can fix this. I can fix this.”

Y/n shook his head, his frustration mounting. “You’re not listening to me. This isn’t healthy—for either of us.”

She stared at him, her tears falling freely. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered.

But he did mean it. He stood, grabbing his laptop and bag. “I think you should leave, Wonyoung. Please don’t come back.”

She watched him walk away, her heart shattering all over again. But as the pain consumed her, a darker resolve began to take shape.

Wonyoung sat in her hotel room that night, replaying their conversation over and over in her mind. Y/n was pushing her away, but she couldn’t let him. He was hers. He had always been hers.

Her thoughts turned to the women she had seen in his photos. She imagined them laughing with him, touching him, taking her place. The idea was unbearable.

“No one else can have him,” she muttered to herself, pacing the room.

Her mind raced with possibilities, each one more twisted than the last. If Y/n wouldn’t come back to her willingly, she would make him. And if anyone tried to stand in her way, they would regret it.

The next day, Wonyoung followed Y/n to his office. She waited outside, watching as he chatted with a female coworker—a petite woman with a kind smile. Wonyoung’s nails dug into her palms as jealousy consumed her.

When the woman walked to a nearby café for lunch, Wonyoung followed her. She cornered her in the alley behind the café, her expression cold and menacing.

“You need to stay away from him,” Wonyoung said, her voice low and threatening.

The woman looked confused. “Excuse me?”

“Y/n,” Wonyoung clarified, stepping closer. “He’s mine. Don’t think for a second that you can take him from me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the woman stammered, backing away.

Wonyoung grabbed her wrist, her grip like iron. “Listen carefully,” she hissed. “If I see you near him again, you’ll regret it.”

The woman nodded quickly, her face pale with fear. Wonyoung released her and walked away, a twisted sense of satisfaction washing over her.

Y/n started noticing strange things in the following weeks. His coworkers seemed distant, avoiding him during breaks. One day, he found a bouquet of roses on his doorstep with a note that read, “You’re mine, forever.”

He knew who it was from.

Wonyoung’s obsession was spiraling out of control, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

He confronted her one evening, finding her waiting outside his apartment.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I just wanted to see you,” she said, her voice sweet but unsteady.

“This has to stop, Wonyoung. You’re scaring me.”

Her smile faltered. “I’m scaring you? Y/n, all I’ve done is love you. All I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.”

“This isn’t love,” he said firmly. “This is obsession.”

Her eyes darkened, and she stepped closer. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. You don’t understand how much I need you, Y/n. I can’t live without you.”

“You need help,” he said, his voice softening. “Please, Wonyoung. Get help.”

Her expression twisted into one of rage and heartbreak. “I don’t need help. I need you. And I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

Y/n felt a chill run down his spine. He realized then just how far she was willing to go.

The obsession had consumed Wonyoung entirely. Every waking moment revolved around Y/n—what he was doing, where he was going, who he was with. She knew everything: the times he left for work, the café he liked to visit, the park where he occasionally went to clear his mind. Her network of eyes seemed endless. Every interaction, every smile he shared with someone else, ignited a storm of jealousy and fury within her.

But she couldn’t just watch anymore. She needed him. Completely.

It was a cold, quiet night when Wonyoung finally decided to act. She waited in the alley near Y/n’s apartment, cloaked in darkness. Her heart raced as she gripped the small vial in her hand, the contents a potent sedative she had procured after weeks of planning.

She knew his routine well enough to predict when he’d go to bed. The lights in his apartment flickered off around 11 PM. She waited another hour, ensuring he was deep in sleep before making her move.

Breaking into Y/n’s apartment was easier than she expected. She had studied his habits meticulously, noting how he often forgot to lock his balcony door. The quiet click of the door sliding open sent a chill down her spine, a mix of adrenaline and anticipation coursing through her.

She crept inside, her movements silent and calculated. His living room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the streetlights outside. Her gaze fell on a framed photo of him on the counter, and she couldn’t resist picking it up, her fingers trembling as she traced his face.

“You’ll understand soon,” she whispered to herself, setting the photo down.

Her footsteps were featherlight as she made her way to his bedroom. The door was ajar, and she pushed it open slowly, revealing Y/n’s sleeping form. He looked peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily.

Wonyoung’s breath hitched. He was so close, so vulnerable.

She stepped closer, her hands trembling as she pulled out a syringe filled with the sedative. She had practiced this moment in her mind countless times, but the reality of it made her hands shake.

“I’m doing this for us,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

She knelt beside the bed, carefully brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Her heart pounded as she pressed the needle against his skin.

The prick of the needle woke Y/n. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he was disoriented.

“W-Wonyoung?” he mumbled, his voice groggy.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she cooed, her voice soft and soothing. “Just relax.”

His gaze sharpened as he realized what was happening. “What… what are you doing?” he said, his voice slurred as the sedative began to take effect.

He tried to sit up, but his limbs felt heavy, his movements sluggish. Panic flashed in his eyes as he attempted to push her away.

“Wonyoung, stop,” he slurred, his strength fading.

“I can’t,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t let you leave me. I need you, Y/n. Don’t you see? We’re meant to be together.”

He struggled against her, his body weak but his mind racing. “This… isn’t love,” he managed to say, his words barely audible.

“It is,” she insisted, her voice breaking. “It’s the purest love there is. I’m doing this for us. For you.”

Y/n’s vision blurred as the drug fully took hold. His head lolled to the side, and his body went limp. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was Wonyoung’s tear-streaked face hovering over him, a mix of desperation and obsession etched into her features.

Wonyoung sat beside him for hours, her hand gently stroking his hair as he lay unconscious. She whispered promises to him, vowing to make him understand, to show him that they were destined to be together.

“You’ll see, Y/n,” she murmured. “You’ll realize that no one can love you the way I do. No one will ever understand you like I do.”

Her tears had dried, replaced by a chilling sense of determination. She had crossed a line, but she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered now—only him.

He was hers. And she would never let him go.

The news broke like wildfire across Korea: “Jang Wonyoung, the Diva of IVE, Has Gone Missing.”

Fans were devastated, flooding social media with hashtags, prayers, and theories. Was it an abduction? Had she run away to escape the pressures of fame? The police were tight-lipped, but the public was frantic. News outlets speculated endlessly, painting a picture of tragedy for one of Korea’s brightest stars.

But the truth was far darker.

Far from the glitz and glamour of Seoul, in a secluded countryside church, Wonyoung stood radiant in her wedding dress. The ornate lace fabric clung to her like a second skin, her beauty almost ethereal. Her lips curled into a serene smile, her dream finally realized.

Beside her stood Y/n, dressed in a formal suit, but his face betrayed no joy. His once-bright eyes were now dull, lifeless. The man who had fought so hard to escape his past had been subdued, stripped of his will. He moved robotically, his body weakened from the drugged haze that Wonyoung kept him in.

The church was empty, save for them. There were no friends, no family, no witnesses. It was exactly how Wonyoung wanted it. This moment wasn’t for the world—it was for them alone.

“You look so handsome, my love,” Wonyoung whispered, her voice tender as she adjusted his tie. “I’ve waited for this moment my entire life.”

Y/n’s lips twitched, but no words came. He had stopped resisting days ago. His silence didn’t bother Wonyoung anymore. She believed that, in time, he would come to accept her love again.

The officiant, a man Wonyoung had hired for discretion, cleared his throat and began the ceremony.

“Do you, Jang Wonyoung, take Y/n to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Wonyoung’s eyes gleamed with joy. “I do.”

“And do you, Y/n, take Jang Wonyoung to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Y/n remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. Wonyoung gently squeezed his hand, her nails digging into his skin.

“Answer him, my love,” she said sweetly, though her tone carried an edge.

“…I do,” Y/n muttered, his voice barely audible.

The officiant nodded. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Wonyoung turned to Y/n, her eyes glistening with tears of happiness. She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.

“This is our beginning,” she whispered before pressing her lips to his in a possessive kiss.

The couple settled into their new home, a sprawling estate surrounded by high walls and dense forests. It was isolated, designed to keep the outside world away—and Y/n inside.

Wonyoung walked through the grand hallways, her arms wrapped tightly around Y/n’s as if afraid he might slip away. She beamed with contentment, her dream fully realized.

“Isn’t this perfect?” she said, her voice full of glee. “Just you and me, forever.”

Y/n didn’t respond. He walked alongside her, his steps heavy, his gaze empty. The man he once was had been consumed by her relentless obsession.

But to Wonyoung, it didn’t matter.

She had won.

No one else would ever have him. No one else could touch him. Y/n was hers—completely, irrevocably, eternally.

As they sat by the fireplace that night, Wonyoung rested her head on his shoulder, her smile serene.

“This is love,” she said softly, her fingers lacing through his. “And I’ll never let you go again.”

The flames crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. Outside, the world continued to mourn the disappearance of Jang Wonyoung. But inside, she was happier than she had ever been.

The end

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

Listen. Re:Zero is my favourite anime. Let me just yap about this for a minute.

One idea that I keep finding myself returning to when thinking about Linked Universe fanfics is the idea of [Name] having Return by Death from Re:Zero. I have many thoughts.

For those of you unfamiliar with the series, Return by Death is Subaru’s ability to return to a specific, predetermined point in time every time he dies. The user of this ability cannot change or choose where these ‘savepoints’ are, they change automatically at seemingly random (basically, think of them as the world ‘autosaving’ from time to time).

The user of RbD cannot tell anyone about this power, as the one in control of this authority can punish the user by squeezing their heart (basically giving them a heart attack) or by killing the person the user was talking to. Though it is important to note that this restriction goes for telling about RbD directly, so if the user speaks about it indirectly (for example in riddles/confusing metaphors) or if the listener does not understand/think much of the user's mutterings/ramblings, the curse will not take effect.

The user of RbD is almost always marked with a stench of ‘evil’ that makes them irresistible to monsters, leading them to lock onto and attack the user. Though the smell is mostly faint (not even noticeable to most people) a majority of the time, it becomes stronger when RbD or the curse activates. So, the more recent the death or punishment, the stronger the smell.

You better hope that none of the Links find out about this power or how many loops you've gone through (not that the curse would let you tell anyone, anyway). It would shatter them. All they know is that when you suddenly start tweaking, it’s time to lock in. It’s not that they ‘get used to’ your odd (to put it mildly) behaviour, but they do learn to back off and kind of just let it happen after you tell them to not worry about it. It’s still unnerving, but they don’t know what to do other than offer their concerns, since you never want to explain yourself.

Time realises quickly that something is up with you. You seem to know what’s going to happen ahead of time, even if you try to not make it obvious, you’re constantly planning ahead and removing yourself from the group to ‘collect your thoughts’ when you think no one would notice. He’s seen your mood shift dramatically at the drop of a hat. One minute you’re fine, laughing and joking, and suddenly you look like you’re about to have a mental breakdown or you wake up screaming bloody murder. Eventually, it all starts to feel awfully similar to how he was whenever he travelled through time. And all the pieces start to fit into place when he realises this. You have some ability related to time travel/clairvoyance, he just doesn't know how it works. But he is determined to figure it out, even if you never want to give him an answer, always avoiding the topic and trying to lead his attention somewhere else.

Despite how much Warriors teases you for being a ‘scaredy cat,’ he honestly thinks you’re irreplaceable. You’ve gotten the group out of many sticky situations, so much so that you must have some kind of future sight or the goddesses have gifted you with the most brilliant strategic mind in history. You always have a plan, you’ve never made a mistake, you can come up with an idea that’ll get them the best possible outcome all in the blink of an eye. If only they knew… Now if only he could do something about that stupid ‘self sacrificial’ habit of yours.

When forming a plan, he wants your input. When you say that the group should avoid an area, he takes that into consideration, even if when questioned, you say that it’s because you just ‘have a feeling.’ You have yet to be proven wrong in his eyes. He’s almost jealous of you. You unmasked a whole group of Yiga soldiers after being in town for less than a day, all based on tiny ‘hints’ that you noticed (little does anyone know that it took you about 8 loops to figure that mess out). Maybe you should be the head strategist of the group, huh? Not up for it? Alright, fine, but at least try to not steal his thunder, okay?

Hyrule is like Warriors, but way more. He believes you’re the coolest person to ever exist, even more worthy of the ‘hero’ title than him. You’re undoubtedly the weakest in the group, but you never give up, you’re still out there fighting because you believe you all can win. He’d trust you with his life if you asked. Travelling with the Chain made him realise how much he needed positive connections with others, so he wants to be there for you too, especially given he’s seen your ‘mood swings’ and self worth plummet. He is your number 1 supporter, just like you’re constantly inspiring him and others around you.

He also finds that he’s often healing you. He’s noticed that on days when you’re really out of it, you inflict harm onto yourself for reasons he can’t fathom. You’d scratch yourself until you begin to bleed, usually on your arms, but sometimes on your neck as well. He’s tried to snap you out of it, and while it does usually work, he can never get you to stop for good.

Hoo boy. Twilight. So you know how he almost died? Yeah, turns out that that injury was a ‘canon event’ that you cannot change. When you forced a RbD (in other words, you killed yourself), you found out that the fight had already happened and your last respawn point was set afterwards. That was the first time that Twilight realised that there was something seriously wrong with you. While Rulie was passed out from using too much magic, and the others wouldn’t dare enter the room for various reasons, and he was falling in and out of consciousness, you stood by his bedside, hardly able to choke back tears, apologising for ‘not being able to fix this.’

Of course, he had noticed that smell on you, how it seemed to fluctuate at random but still sticking to you, and how monsters were drawn to you like moths to a flame whenever that smell spiked. It reminded him of the Twili magic that clung to him. Could you have been affected by something similar? But by what and what did it do to you other than make you an irresistible target to monsters? This and other factors cause him to be very protective of you, similarly with how he is with Wild.

Wild is down for your crazy plans, even if he has to admit that some of them sound dicey at the very best. But you have the devil’s own luck and he’s honestly thankful that you’re the lucky one out of everyone.

While he is glad that others (including himself, of course) have high opinions of you, he’s keeping a close eye on you and how much pressure is put on you. While he might not remember much of his ‘previous life,’ he’s all too familiar with what happens when expectations are piled onto someone. Because of this, he’s trying to joke and laugh with you, telling embarrassing stories because he wants people to remember that you’re a person, not a walking list of accomplishments. But should you ask for his help, he’s not going to say ‘no.’

I want you to know that of all of the links, Legend is the one most determined to know what is up with you. Yes, he teases you the same way that Warriors does, but he recognises that you are deeply messed up (takes one to know one, bitch). He’s seen that faroff, dead look in your eyes and it felt so real that - if it was not for you blinking - he could swear he was looking at your corpse.

He once cornered you (literally) in an attempt to get you to tell the truth, but when he noticed that genuine fear in your eyes, he backed off. He swears that he’ll get to the bottom of it, but knows that forcing it out of you won’t help. Even if your ‘stubbornness’ is wearing his patience thin.

Sky is basically your therapy dog. You know how his Zelda was always standing up for him? Well, now he’s doing that with you. He knows a bullying victim when he sees one. He sticks close to you when in new places and should you show any signs of discomfort, tries to distract you.

One thing that makes him nervous though, is what happens when you come into contact with the Master Sword; it burns you. With some help from Twilight, Sky knows that there’s a ‘curse’ on you, which would explain some things about you. He doesn’t like how the sword’s power isn’t enough to get rid of it, like it could with Legend’s transformations. Whatever this curse is, it’s powerful and won’t be easy to get rid of. Not like he’ll give up on finding a cure.

Four is surprised at how quickly you begin to pick up on swordplay. Did he teach you some of those moves? He’s sure he would have remembered it if he had. Maybe Sky taught you? The Skyloft knight was the best swordsman in the group, so it’s possible. But something keeps nagging at him that that wasn’t the case.

You’re hiding something. Something big; he’s absolutely certain of it. And he knows that the others know too. Still, it’s not like none of them have secrets they’re sitting on. But what could possibly be so important that you won’t tell them? It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, you’ve shown time and time again that you’re an amazing person. It’s just that he feels a little hurt that you don’t trust them enough to tell them what’s going on with you. They’re all worried about you, but if it really means that much to you, he’s sure that you’ll tell them eventually.

Wind wants to make bets with you on basically anything and everything. Is it going to rain today? Who will be the first to trip on a rock and fall flat on their face? Will the next portal lead the group to his era? Yes, these questions are often silly, but he genuinely wants to keep you happy. That’s why he’s constantly sticking to your side, telling jokes and stories, inviting you to play some stupid game of chase. Wind is a lot more emotionally intelligent than many assume (mostly because they underestimate him due to his age), so he can tell when your mental health is about to take a nosedive, despite the happy ‘mask’ that you put on.

One person who you never thought would ‘understand’ you is the Fierce Deity. You have no idea how or why, but it seems like he holds you in very high regard. Not necessarily for your physical strength or weapon skills (lord knows you could never match him or any of the Links), but he seems to ‘get’ you, like he… Respects you? He can’t help but see you as a warrior in your own right. He looks at you and he sees that look in your eyes; the look of someone who has seen death many times. It’s a trait that is highly valued among warriors (because it shows experience) and often even seen as ‘attractive.’

He is actually the only one who learns the truth about you. Fierce has seen Time repeat the day night cycle over and over so many times, so he’s more than familiar with the concept of time travel. But when he learned the method behind your power - when, in a last ditch effort, you put the mask on and his mind and memories fused with yours - his respect for you shot up sky high, but he’s also incredibly worried about you. The toll that your ability has already taken on you is immense and he knows that it’ll only get worse as the group gets closer to defeating the one behind the portals. It’s times like these that he wishes he had the knowledge and ability to give you comfort. Yes, he has more than enough strength to protect you in a fight, but being locked away in a mask (one that his host refuses to use), leaves him useless.

All he can hope for is that you two could get a moment alone, where he can tell you that ‘he knows,’ and let you let out all the emotions that you’ve been forced to bottle up for much too long. If you want to use him as a shoulder to cry on and vent out everything you’ve gone through, he’ll let you. As for why he can’t be killed by the curse, it’s because his status as a literal deity is protecting him.

[staylovesmiley]

Give Me Your TMI~ Chapter 9

₊˚⊹ᰔ Pairing; Yang Jeongin x Fem!reader, Stray kids x Fem!reader

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Summary; In a world where Humans and Hybrids should be living as equals, Hybrids are still viewed as being closer to their animalistic side than their humanistic. Deep in the woods lives a band of misfit hybrids who reject these societal views and keep to themselves, choosing to live away from humans. What happens when the youngest of this rogue group meets a lost Human girl, befriending her after an incident where he must rely on her for help?

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Warnings; hybrid!au, female!reader, angst, mild violence, mentions of sexual harassment/assault and discrimination, she/her pronouns used for reader, this is very loosely based off the overall themes/tones of the manga and anime fruits basket~

“Are you…going to be okay?” Jeongin asked softly, hand reaching out towards you to gently brush your hair back from your face where you lay facing him. The moonlight filtered in through the thin gap of the curtains casting a soft glow on his face that made him look almost angelic. You smiled softly, nodding as you leaned into his touch when he hand cupped your still slightly bruised cheek where Jason had struck you earlier. “Will you?”

The fox took a deep breath, thinking for a moment before responding. “I don’t…really know yet- I think I’m still in shock that I actually-“ He couldn’t bring himself to say it, as if not speaking the words would make them any less true. You both had killed someone that night.

It was still early in the morning, the sun had yet to rise and Chan still lay asleep behind you with his chest pressed against your back firmly in a way that comforted you with the physical contact of his bare skin against your own. “I know…it will be a while before things feel normal again, I’m sure.” You tried to reassure the hybrid, turning your head to press a kiss against his palm.

The two of you lay in silence for a while, just watching over each other before he spoke up again. “I-I’m afraid..” Jeongin’s voice trembled slightly and in the dim light you swore you could see tears brimming his eyes. Quickly, you moved closer to him as you wrapped your arms around him protectively. “Afraid of what, innie?” You could hear his racing heartbeat, his scent souring lightly as he hid his face in the crook of your neck before mumbling against your skin. “That you will think less of me because of what I did-“

A deep frown settled on your face as your hold on him tightened. “Jeongin I could never think less of you, especially not for that. It would be hypocritical of me…” He shook his head, the tips of his fluffy ears tickling you lightly. “But it was so- so savage…I was like a monster-“ You let out a huff, one hand coming to comb through his hair gently. “Innie you were protecting us, you saved Hyunjin- there is no telling what Jason would have done if you hadn’t stopped him.”

The fox let out a quiet whimper and attempted to burrow closer to you. “But I didn’t have to kill him- especially not like that.” You sighed, placing a kiss to the top of his head before responding. “And I didn’t have to kill my mother…but it happened. It’s done now- there isn’t anything we can do to change it or bring them back….its- it’s for the best that we try to move past it as best we can. The fact that you feel guilty means that you aren’t a monster, you were just trying to keep us safe.”

Jeongin sighed, knowing that you were right but he couldn’t shake the unease he felt every time he pictured the man you had married lying bloody and marred in the snow. “I was so angry…I could feel he had hurt you and when I saw him attacking Jinnie I just- I couldn’t stop myself and that scares me.” You nodded in understanding, giving him a gentle squeeze before pecking his lips softly. “I know- but you are not a monster….if anyone is a monster it was him.”

You laid there for a while longer in a comforting embrace, silently trying to cope with the weight of your actions when a soft knock sounded at the door before it opened to reveal a very tired looking Minho. “Guys…I know it’s early but- we all need to talk.”

You both sit up slowly, you holding the blanket up against your chest while Jeongin allows the fabric to fall and pool around his waist. “I’ll leave waking the beast to you both.” The cat teases, clearly trying to lighten the mood before backing out of the room. “If you wake him up I’ll go get us some clean clothes from our room-“ The fox states as he stretches before getting up from the bed. You nod silently as you watch him leave you alone with Chan still sleeping peacefully beside you.

Your hand comes to touch gently where the wolf hybrid had bit you earlier in the night and you blush lightly, turning to watch him sleep for a moment longer before gently nudging his shoulder.

“Chan- Channie it’s time to get up.” You keep your voice soft, just above a whisper as you lean down to place a kiss behind his ear. The hybrid groans, wrapping his arms around your waist where you sit on the bed and his face nuzzles against your hip before leaving gentle kisses at your exposed skin there. Your flush deepens as you giggle nervously and nudge at him once again. “Come on, Chan…need you to wake up now.” He sighs, shifting a bit before his eyes open and he’s blinking up at you. “I know- just….wanted to stay here with you a bit longer.” A soft smile finds your face as you lean down to kiss his cheek. “You know if you ever want me to stay with you like this again you just have to ask…” Your words cause him to blush furiously and bury his face in his pillow. How could you be so gentle with him, so kind? It still didn’t feel real to him and now he could feel your heart and soul tugging at his own in a way that made him dizzy and sated at the same time.

Jeongin returned shortly after, clothed once again, with a neatly folded outfit for you as well. He held the clothes out to you and you took them with a soft thank you before standing from the bed to get dressed to face the consequences of your actions. Chan rose as well, dressing in a pair of loose sweat pants and a long sleeved tee before ushering both of you out and into the dining room where everyone was sat waiting for you to join.

Your eyes flitted over to the kitchen where what must have only been a few hours ago your mother lay lifeless in a growing puddle of her own blood and you flinched, quickly closing your eyes tightly to rid yourself of the image when you felt hands gently take hold of each of yours and give you a reassuring squeeze.

When you opened your eyes again you saw Chan and Jeongin at either side of you, pulling you to sit down at the table sandwiched between them protectively. “Okay, I’m not going to dance around the issue here- we need to figure out what to do with the carnage we have on our hands.” Minho said bluntly, his tail flicking anxiously behind him though his deadpan expression tried to hide how on edge he was feeling. Felix who was sat to his left hit his shoulder lightly with a disapproving grunt but the older cat shrugged, knowing that no matter how they tried to sugar coat it they had a double homicide currently weighing over them and something had to be done about it.

You winced a bit at his words but nodded, thinking for a moment before speaking up. “I’ll write a letter to my sister Esther…I’ll-“ You think for a bit, brows furrowed as you concentrate on a good story for them to believe. “Jason left me and was having an affair with Mama- that they ran away together. I can add some other stuff too…make it seem like a letter to update her on my life, something normal- we were always so close so it wouldn’t seem strange for me to want to share stuff like that with her.”

Minho thinks for a second, letting your words settle in his mind before nodding. “That’ll be good. Changbin, Chan- gonna need your help setting a big fire pit in the back…we have to get rid of them where there isn’t gonna be identifiable traces.” The pair grimace a bit at the mental image of what they are about to do but they nod and head for the door, Chan giving the top of your head a kiss on his way out and then you are left sitting there feeling like something is missing.

Jeongin seems to feel your concern, hand coming to squeeze your thigh to gather your attention. You look up to meet his eyes and his gaze softens instantly. “What’s going on in your head, pretty?” He whispers, his forehead resting against your own. “I just- feel like we are forgetting something important….” You frown, closing your eyes as you think harder and then your eyes shoot open wide. “His car- we have to find it and get rid of it….um- the river! Do you….do you think you could sniff it out and help me?” The fox huffs a bit before giving you a teasing smile. “Shocked you didn’t ask Minnie, he’s the scent hound after all.” The beagle hybrid pouts at the younger’s words, turning away to hide behind Felix’s shoulder and you give him a soft smile in hopes to make yourself seem less scary before rising from your seat. “Come on, Innie…we should try and get this done before it’s too light out. I know that there isn’t anyone in the area but it’s better to be safe.”

It was done.

The bodies of your mother and husband burned to ashes by the time the evening was washing over the sky and painting it a pale, muted shade of blue. The car they had driven to your once peaceful little cabin was sunk to the bottom of the river by late afternoon.

Now, you sit in your room on the bed, knees pulled to your chest and eyes closed as you focus on breathing in slow and deep through your nose before exhaling slowly through your nose as you couldn’t seem to shake the memory of the knife sinking into your mother’s stomach, her words still echoing in your mind though you tried to expel them.

You had told Jeongin you wanted some time to yourself, and although you could feel his disappointment and worry wash over you through your shared bond he had respected your wishes and left to curl up in Felix’s bed as the cat hybrid held him close for comfort.

As you were beginning to feel like the room was closing in on you and your breathing became less of a rhythm and more uneven you heard a knock at the door that snapped you out of your thoughts and back to the present. Before you could answer the door was pushed open to reveal Hyunjin, the ferret hybrids beautiful face littered with bruises and small scrapes and his head hung in a sheepish manner as he carefully approached you. “P-Pretty….’m sorry to bother you but I need your help-“ His voice sounded so small, hesitant and you softened at the sound. “Oh Jinnie…come here?” You motioned for the hybrid to come closer and once he was sat on the bed you immediately crawled to embrace him. Hyunjin melted against you, head resting atop yours as you snuggled into his side while being mindful of his bruised ribs and stomach.

“What does my angel need help with, hm?” You asked, voice gentle as you rubbed soothing circles into his back with careful hands. “Can you….would you help me cut my hair?”

Oh- his request shocked you. Everyone was well aware of how much the ferret adored having his long dark hair played with, allowing anyone who was willing to card their hands through it as he drifted off into a peaceful nap or letting you and Felix weave pretty braids into it to keep the hair from sticking to his neck when working out in the garden due to the hot sun beating down on him despite the growing chill in the air. “You want me to cut your hair, baby? Are you sure?” You gently ran your fingers through his silky locks and he nodded, a little sniffle coming from him and causing you to pull away enough to catch the few tears that dropped from where they had rolled down his cheeks and hit his lap leaving little dark spots in their wake.

“Okay, if that’s what you want I can do that for you.” You smiled softly, assuring him that this was not a burden for him to ask the favor and you slowly got off the bed and took his hand into yours to lead him out of the room.

Now, the ferret hybrid sat calmly on the closed seat of the toilet as you stood between his parted legs. You ran your fingers through his hair a couple of times before bringing the scissors in your hand up to carefully cut away his dark locks. Piece by piece the fell silently to the floor by your feet, the sensation tickling softly as you continued and the slowly piling hair grew around you. Once you got to a short enough length, you pulled out the clippers you had bought not to long ago from the drug store in town, the original purpose having been to trim the back of Jisung’s hair as he had been complaining about how long it was getting and not liking the feeling of it tickling his neck and behind his ears. Now, they were used to carefully buzz away the ferrets mane as he had requested, being very cautious not to harm his soft little ears or nick the back of his slender neck or ears.

The moment was silent, soft, as he sat still for you and you hummed softly while you worked. You were reminded of a memory from your childhood, giving your baby brothers their first haircuts as they squirmed and wriggled around still trying to play while you attempted to cut their soft baby curls into a style that wasn’t too garish for the toddlers.

Once the task was finished you turned and sat the clipper down at the edge of the sink, moving to the claw footed tub to turn the water on so you could help Hyunjin wash what fine hairs were now clinging to his skin and the tightly cropped hair on his head. When the tub was full you helped him undress, letting him lower himself into the water carefully with your assistance. Nudity was not foreign to you in this family, the hybrids having to shift back into their human forms completely bare meaning you had seen all of them nude at least once in the months you had lived with them. Still, this moment felt so soft and intimate it caused your heart to flutter and your cheeks to flush as you gently began washing the hybrid’s bruised body.

“I never got to thank you…for protecting me.” You said after sitting in silence for what felt like an eternity, gently massaging his now fuzzy head with a small amount of shampoo as Hyunjin practically purred at the touch. “It’s what you do for the people you love.” He said, as if it was the most simple thing like brushing your teeth or getting dressed in the morning. “You love me?” Was what you responded with, genuine surprise in your voice as you used the cup kept by the tub to rinse his hair and with one hand block any suds from getting into his tightly shut eyes. He nodded once you were done, turning to give you a shy smile. “We all do, though some of us are too shy to admit it yet…you are precious to us, our pretty. I don’t doubt at all that any of us would have done what I did, and I know you would do the same for us.”

His words resonated deeply with you, something to finally take your mind off of everything from the day previous.

You were still thinking about it when Chan came to you where you were curled up on the couch after dinner and sat down only to pull you up and into his lap before burying his face in the side of your neck where his bite was slowly healing under the bandages you had applied. “Channie? You feeling okay?” You asked, sudden concern washing over you although you couldn’t feel any distress coming from the wolf hybrid. His ears tickled your cheek where they twitched slightly at the sound of your voice. “I’m okay, but I could feel you earlier. You’re hurting.” You let out a soft sigh, not having the energy to deny it when you knew he was right. “I’ll be hurting for a while, probably…Chan you-“ Hesitating for a moment, you wondered if this question would be pushing too far despite how close you had become. “When you used to fight…did you ever have to kill anyone?” Your voice was quiet, just loud enough that his enhanced hearing could pick up the sound and he froze, arms tight around you before relaxing again. “Yes, I did…” You let out a little whimper, turning to hide your face in his soft curls as tears welled in your eyes. “It’s so awful…I’m sorry you had to go through those feelings alone.” The wolf couldn’t help but chuckle, placing a few soft kisses against your neck before pulling away to cup your face in his hands. “Oh pretty…you are too kind for this world. Going through everything you just did and you are more worried about what I had to endure in my past than how you are feeling in your present.” A light kiss was placed on your lips, more of a peck really, and you couldn’t help but preen at the attention from the oldest.

As you still sat cuddled up with the wolf hybrid, Minho entered the room and paused to take in the scene before him with curiosity. He took a few tentative sniffs at the air and realized your scent had once again shifted slightly, just as it had when their youngest had mated you. A smirk curled at his lips and he leaned against the wall with arms crossed over his chest. “Well what do we have here, hm?” He called out to the both of you causing you to look at where the cat began sauntering over to take a seat on the hearth of the fireplace. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you somehow mated with our pretty.” Minho teased, not meaning much behind his words but at the shocked expression on both of your faces he faltered. “Wait- you…you didn’t- you couldn’t, well shouldn’t-“

Confusion was clear in your eyes as you looked between the bewildered Minho and sheepish Chan. “What do you mean shouldn’t? Is that- Innie didn’t seem to be bothered that Chan mated me too…” You assumed the second oldest was inferring that your first mate would be upset by your bond with Chan, when that wasn’t what was causing his jaw to drop in shock as he rose from his seat to pull you up from the wolf’s lap and examine you closely.

Minho gasped, peeling back the bandage at your neck carefully to inspect the bite healing there. “No way…and it worked? You’re bonded?” He asked Chan, looking over you and to where the older sat squirming in his seat under the interrogation from the cat hybrid’s sharp eyes. “Y-Yeah…I wasn’t expecting it- I just bit her out of instinct but I didn’t think it would actually stick.” Chan confessed, rubbing at the back of his neck as you looked between the both of them. “What is going on? What do you mean you didn’t expect it to stick?” You frowned, worry creeping into your mind at the thought that Chan hadn’t intended or wanted to mate with you. As if sensing your unease, because he quite literally could, the wolf hybrid was up and wrapping himself around you instantly as he peppered sweet kisses to your head and face. “Pretty I didn’t mean it like that…just- hybrids aren’t typically able to mate more than one person. The fact that both Jeongin and I bonded to you is- it’s not common, unheard of really…” You frowned a bit in your confused state, looking up into Chan’s eyes before turning to Minho as if asking him to confirm the oldest’s words.

The two oldest hybrids shared a look before sitting you back down on the couch and taking a seat on either side of you to try and explain how hybrid mating worked. “So, just like most canines, canine hybrids form life long bonds with one another….but only in pairs. You being able to form a mating bond with both Chan and Innie is not something we would have thought possible.” Minho said carefully, watching your face to make sure you understood him clearly. Chan nodded, speaking up after a moment to let the information sink in. “The only reason I can think of that my bond stuck after you were already mated to Jeongin is…you aren’t a hybrid.” You blinked at him, taking it all in before nodding slowly. “So does that mean any of you could mate me too? Or do you think it stops at just two…?” Minho snorted as he tried to contain his laughter, hand coming up to cover his face. You pouted at him, worried you had just asked a stupid question when suddenly the cat leaned in close to your face. “Would you like to be mated to more of us?” He teased, a playful smirk at the corner of his mouth and you felt your breath hitch as Chan held back his chuckle from behind you.

“I-I” you stuttered, not sure how to respond as heat rose to your cheeks at the close proximity and attention from the cat hybrid. Minho gave you a sweet smile before pulling back to sit up straight beside you once more. “Unfortunately, I can’t help you test out your hypothesis. Only canine hybrids form mating bonds, cat hybrids are a whole other story.” You exhaled slowly, not realizing you had been holding your breath all that time, swallowing hard before nodding. “I see…so- only Chan and Innie could have mated me.” Chan pressed his chest up against your back, nipping lightly at your jaw before whispering lowly in your ear. “You’re forgetting someone, pretty.” Your eyes widened as you realized he was right, there was one more canine hybrid you had left out and you blushed furiously at the thought of the one member of the little family who had yet to fully let his guard down around you. “Seungmin-“ You said quietly, causing Minho to smirk as he rose from his seat and made his way over to the couch. “Don’t let him know you left him out, our puppy would be so upset. You know, he’s secretly very fond of you.” With that he disappeared to get started on prep for the next morning’s breakfast, leaving you stunned and confused in Chan’s strong embrace.

author’s note; hehe did I scare ya?? (To those of you who didn’t read my last ramble post…I tried to play a little prank-) To make up for the last chapter being so dark and the lil heart attack I seemed to give some of you- I give you some very sweet moments in this chapter~ sorry it’s a bit shorter than normal but if you read into things a bit you’ll see that I’m setting up for what is to come~~~ I hope you all enjoyed! Happy sleuthing and theorizing hehehe

taglist; (pink users I wasn’t able to tag) @coastinglove @estella-novella @chancloud8 @skzswife @motheraiya55 @zofia515 @skybluelixie @breadedloafs @inaribu00 @silly250 @royal-shinigami @thatgirlangelb @bby-boo4u @emmxxsworld @vampkittenb82 @h0rnyp0t @alisonyus @im-sinking-in-mud @ihrtlix @mrs-hwangh @danixiulin @wolfo2027 @kiaralynn3838 @ateez-atiny380 @daceyena @bookswillfindyouaway @blackcatpandora @popcatx0 @corgilover20 @marshmelonie @sassy-snassy @straykidslover2024 @xgridx @y4yayael @dreamerwasfound

[farfromstrange]

One Soul | Matt Murdock x Reader

Matt Murdock Masterlist

Summary: Matt gets hurt, badly, so you have to do the one thing you promised him you wouldn't: take him to a hospital.

Warnings: Angst, life-threatening injury, blood, temporary Major Character Death (he comes back, don't worry), mentions of CPR, religious imagery, conflicted relationship with religion, Reader is described as an atheist but Mad At God, prayer, hurt/comfort

A/n: This is a little angst piece I came up with yesterday. For me, personally, my atheism isn't always black and white. I know I don't believe in God, but I have found myself cursing him in the past because it was easier than cursing something I did not understand (like the death of a loved one). And I just know that being with Matt, chances are he will get himself hurt badly enough one day to the point he has to be brought to the hospital.

Read Me On AO3!

The heart monitor beside the bed signals at a steady eighty beats per minute. You follow the many lines of tubing from the machines to his frail body, your eyes lingering on the purple bruises adorning his pale skin—deadly pale, it is. 

His cheeks, once so full of life, are hollow now. His eyes are swollen, his pretty lips cut, and there is blood stuck to his hair, still, soaking through the bandage they applied. You’ve never seen him so broken, so utterly weak and fragile that you wouldn’t dare touch him. The tears refuse to stop falling. 

Years ago, you made a promise. You promised never to take him to a hospital, to protect his identity and him. Hell, he survived the collapse of Midland Circle, albeit with a scattered mind. He had broken bones and a broken spirit, locked away at Clinton Church for weeks, and still, he survived.

Tonight though, for the first time, you felt his heart stop. It wasn’t one of those ghastly nightmares that have been plaguing you ever since you locked Fisk away and he finally came back to you. It wasn’t a product of your imagination; you felt his heart stop. Hands covered in blood, you watched as the life drained from his eyes and he breathed out without breathing in again. 

You swear you can still feel his ribs breaking underneath your fingertips. “Don’t do this to me,” you cried. “Don’t you dare do this to me, Matthew! I can’t lose you. Please, come back. Come back!”

And you prayed to a God you don’t believe in not to take him from you. You begged for a chance to hear his heartbeat again, just one last time even if it kills you. 

You looked to the sky and swore you’d make a deal with the devil if you had to. You’d do anything for this man; this reckless, stupid force of a man you are so in love with that it hurts sometimes. You would’ve let God crucify you for the whole world to see just to get a chance to look at your beloved Matthew one last time, to know he’s alive. And perhaps God did answer your prayers, or maybe the CPR you’d never done before did its trick for he suddenly took a breath, and his heart started beating again.

You cried over his body like Mary over Jesus. You shielded him as if that would heal him, and he clung to you when he realized what had happened. He coughed, and he was bleeding, and you were paralyzed with the fear of losing him again.

What else were you to do but take him to a place where he could be fixed? If you hadn’t brought him here, he would have died. You shouldn’t feel guilty. It wasn't selfish. Yet, the fire within you keeps burning, and your soul keeps hurting as you watch him like a hawk, wondering what he’ll think of you once he wakes up—if he wakes up. 

“I know I’m not… religious,” you murmur, eyes directed at the ceiling now. “I’m not a good Catholic, far from it. I’ve done things… well, you know. And I don’t pray. Matt prays. I don’t,” you say. “I just wanna understand why.”

Another tear rolls down your cheek. The coil in your throat is tight enough to strangle the air from your lungs. One of the shards of your broken heart is stuck, and now you’re bleeding. Your soul is laid bare for everyone to see. 

It’s pathetic, you think, for an atheist to pray. Because you don’t believe, you never have. Matt believes. He has faith. You’re just… angry? Yes, you are furious, and even more now than ever you feel like it’s all a lie. Where’s the hope? Where’s the faith now?

“Why do you keep letting bad things happen to him?” you ask, your voice breaking. “All he’s ever done is try to please you because he thinks you gave him some kind of purpose. That accident… he thinks it happened for a reason. Going blind, losing every one. After all the hardships and the trouble he got himself into, he thinks he’s some kind of soldier. Even when he was at his lowest and stopped believing, he eventually came back to you. Like a dog on a leash.” 

If Matt heard you, he’d be deeply offended. Religion is so important to him, but tonight, he almost died. He almost died before, but it never felt as real as it did tonight, and the thought haunts you like a restless ghost. 

“I want to be supportive, I do. I mean, everyone’s beliefs are valid, in a way, but it almost killed him tonight. If you’re up there—if you’re truly listening—how can you just let that happen to someone you claim to love, God? I don’t–” You shake your head. “I just don’t understand.”

The heart monitor keeps beeping. The lights keep flickering. His chest keeps rising. No answer. The disappointment cuts you deep. Is there perhaps a part of you that does want to believe? Or are you just looking for someone, something, to blame? Instead of the men who did this to him, instead of the men who quite literally took him apart, you’re turning to the one thing you can’t touch. But you know it’s not what Matt would want. He’d want you to have hope.

How does one go about that when everything seems to be going wrong? When your very heart is lying in a hospital bed? How does even an atheist not curse God out of pure and utter desperation? 

Matt lets out a soft groan, and your eyes flick to him. Your heartbeat accelerates at the same time as his. 

“Matt?” you ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed.

He stirs. Every muscle and bone in his body is filled with a dull ache. First dull, then sharp. The stitches in his abdomen pull at the tender flesh with every breath that fills his lungs, the oxygen so rich and concentrated it almost sets him alight. The plastic tubes weigh heavy on his nostrils. 

His eyes pulsate, and there is this obnoxiously loud beeping in his ear. It’s screaming, almost. Beep, beep, beep. Faster and faster, and faster. But his eyelids are so heavy he can’t open them. There’s nothing but fire, and for a moment he forgets that he hasn’t been able to see for decades. 

In his head, he’s eight years old again, his head wrapped with a bandage that itches his skin so terribly, and the world around him screaming. It’s the same room, it seems, cold and dark and terrifying. 

Matt reaches for his eyes, fingers brushing against the bruises that resemble the shape of a fist—no light. He can taste copper on his tongue. The beeping gets louder and his ears are ringing, and why is the blanket made of sandpaper? He wants to tear the skin off his weary bones.

“I can’t–” he breaks off at the foreign sound of his voice. Another trace of his fingertips against the bruised skin. “I can’t see,” he chokes out.

“Matt!” you say a little louder, your hand finally touching his, and it’s as if the bubble he’s in bursts. 

He recognizes your voice. He remembers he’s blind. He remembers going out last night and kissing you goodbye. He was in good spirits then. But something went wrong. Somehow, his opponent had weaponry that could easily break through the protective material of his suit. He stood no chance against the number of men coming at him. They sliced and they hit, and he thought he saw God, but it was just the swinging ceiling light inside the abandoned factory building. It smelled of mold and water. 

He fought until he couldn’t bear it anymore. Until the opportunity to flee presented itself, and so Matt crawled home to you. With every last ounce of strength, he honored his promise to always come back home to you. 

He doesn’t remember much more, only falling down the stairs to the rooftop access to the living room. The crash. Your gasp. Your heartbeat. And then, nothing. Nothing but the comfort of darkness. 

“Hey,” you smile through your tears, “It’s me. You’re okay.”

He whispers your name, and you squeeze his hand.

“I’m here. Try not to move,” you tell him. “You’re at Metro General.”

The word makes his breath stutter. “The hospital?” he inquires.

“Yes. You were hurt… badly. They had to take out your spleen. Fifty-something stitches. Some brain swelling. I don’t know, it’s a lot.” 

“I told you,” he grunts, “no hospitals.”

Matt Murdock is not an ungrateful man. However, his words cut deep. You can’t take much more.

“You promised, no–”

“You died!” you cry out. The echo bounces off the walls and resonates in his ears like the sound of a bomb going off. 

“You died in my arms and I had to–” You look at your hands, stained with blood, “I had to break your ribs to bring you back. Your bones… breaking,” you cry. “You died and I thought I was gonna lose you, for good. You can blame me for breaking a stupid promise, but if I hadn’t, I’d be preparing a funeral now!” 

His head tilts in his direction—you’re serious—and his defenses fall like an iron curtain, shattering like glass. The sound of your voice in such a state of disarray, death by a thousand cuts. 

He almost died. Or, he did die, and you brought him back, but the things you had to do for that… you brought him back, but it hurt you. He hurt you. He swore he would never do so again, only over his dead body, yet it was his dead body that almost broke you. 

Matt never wanted any of this to happen. The love of his life, traumatized. What kind of man does that? Surely the kind of man that no one but the one person he never deserved mourns when he’s gone. 

The silence drags on, suffocating you. “Do you get that?” you ask, barely above a whisper. “Do you get that I’d die without you?”

“I’m so sorry,” Matt whispers. “I don’t remember…”

“Of course, you don’t. You’ve never been this hurt.”

“Sweetheart.”

“I would’ve traded your life for mine if I could’ve. I tried, Matt, I did. I prayed to God and told him to take me instead while I was trying to get your heart beating again. And I blamed Him for doing this to you ‘cause I didn’t know who else to blame.” 

His fingers brush against the back of your hand. A nurse kindly lent you clothes from the lost-and-found, but you can still feel the sticky substance on your skin, crawling like a parasite.

You shudder. “If you hadn’t woken up, I–“ 

“C’mere,” he says. 

Beep, beep, beep, goes the heart monitor, and sirens wail outside his window. 

“I can’t,” you whisper back.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Sweetheart, you could cut out my heart and I’d still want you.”

A shiver runs down your spine, settling in the pit of your stomach. You feel so sick, so detached from everything and everyone, but the piece of you that you almost lost is right there, and he’s alive.

He’s alive. 

You have to keep reminding yourself of the fact. His heart is beating. His lungs are filled with air. Those last few hours might have felt like a proper nightmare, but you made it through. He made it through. 

“Please,” he pleads. “I… I need you.”

It’s different now. He’s not asking to hold you for your comfort but his own, and without another second thought, you climb into the tiny hospital bed with him. 

Matt seeks out the comfort of your chest, but he’s aimless in his agony. You gently guide his head to your heart. Touching him, feeling him so close to you, melts away the last of your fears.

“You scared me,” you confess.

He exhales. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just… promise you’ll live for me.”

The silence wraps a noose around your neck. But then, “You own my heart,” he says. 

“So?”

“Yeah, I’ll live for you.”

Those four words mean more to you than a promise to die for you if push comes to shove. Because what are you supposed to do without him? You’d rather he try everything in his power to live for you than leave you. 

“If you live for me, too,” he whispers then, and a tear runs from his cheek down your chest. You can’t survive without him, that much is certain. That may sound like a state of unhealthy codependency, but when two people share the same soul, every breath one breathes sustains the other. There’s nothing you can do about that, nor would you ever want to.

“Without you, I’d–” he cuts himself off. 

Without you, he’d be lost. Without you, even in death, he would not be able to find peace. 

“I promise,” you manage to say, although the words come with a fresh flood of salty tears that mix with the ocean of his. 

He relaxes into you. “Thank you.”

As he falls asleep in your arms that night, you find yourself staring up at the ceiling again.

“Don’t fail him,” you whisper. To God, to the universe, to the moon and Saturn, and to yourself. 

matt murdock angst tag list: @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @mochie-is-a-librarian @buckyssugarchick

[margotw10bis]

Friendly Marriage.JJK Drabble 2

bestfriend!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: drabble; fluff (non-idol Jungkook)

Words: 1.8k

Synopsis: You accompany your best friend for his first tattoo because, well, he can't take an important step in his life without you.

"Precious and Inked" drabble from Friendly Marriage (this takes place before the main story)

You clearly remember when Jungkook’s appeal for tattoos appeared. You were six and it was summer. It was a hot day, almost unbreathable which spurred your parents to drive to the beach, willing to enjoy the faint breeze from the sea. 

Obviously, you weren’t the only ones seeking to cool down and the beach was full. But as your parents were settling your stuff, Jungkook grabbed your hand and urged you to go near the salty water to play with the wet sand. It’s when your best friend saw him. The man was about twenty year old and he had a confidence that made people looked at him with curiosity — or envy. Moreover, his black swimsuit allowed the crowd to have a full view on his numerous tattoos, something that was quite rare to witness in Korea at the time. His torso, arms and back had some ink patterns here and there, without a real coherence but the whole was harmonious. 

Jungkook’s doe eyes grew bigger than normal and a whispered ‘wow’ escaped his lips. It wasn’t too hard to notice his admiration and the fact was confirmed by the uncountable times he talked to you about ‘the cool drawings’ the following days. Annoyed by his sudden lack of attention to your sand construction, you slammed his arm and yelled at him to focus.

And thirteen years later, here you are.

You should have known your best friend enough to know that he would, one day, get a tattoo on his own. Somewhat you hoped he’d wait a little longer as an unconscious fear — of this decoration on his body changing his personality — has been growing bigger and bigger even since he share the date of his appointment.

“You know that your mom is going to kill you, right?”

Your remark provokes a laugh from your best friend. You know that there is no point in trying to convince him right now, as Jungkook has been bawling about getting a tattoo for months, strategically waiting for his nineteenth birthday to finally put ink on his skin. It’s not that you don’t think he hasn’t thought seriously about it but you know him: sometimes, he tends to make decision too quickly and you’re afraid he’ll regret. 

“With the look in your eyes, I feel like it’s you who’s going to kill me” He teases you, his wide bunny smile on his adorable face 

You sigh as you don’t understand how chill he is about such a big commitment while you, a mere witness, are stressing. A lot. 

“Kook”

“I know, I know” He reassures you — just like he is able to read your mind — and wraps his arm around your shoulders “I swear I’m not going to change my mind. And it’s just a tiny tattoo, I’ll stop after that”

You both know that he won’t — and the future will give you right. You throw him a doubtful glance but how can you resist his cute pout? You cannot. And Jungkook knows it way too well. 

You don’t have time to argue as the tattoo artist steps in the small and dark room you’ve been waiting. He calls out your best friend’s name and a single look at him tells you how excited he is. Just to see him as happy makes all your worries vanish and in one second, you don’t care if Jungkook decides to cover his whole body with black ink if it means he’ll get to smile like that. 

“You wanna come with me?” He offers right before entering the room at the back

You hesitate but finally accept in case Jungkook would like to squeeze your hand if the pain is too much. Yet, you regret when you move the black curtain away and discover a dark room filled with a chair similar to the one in medical centers, a small stool with wheels and a table full of small cup of inks — black, blue, red, pink and every other colors. The walls are covered with sketches and the skull ones are terrifying, sending shivers down your spine. 

“You want one?” The tattoo artist asks you when he notices you are looking at his art pieces 

You have no problem admitting his talent, yet you absolutely don’t want a skull on your skin! You are quick to shake your head and take place next to your best friend who has taken off his shirt. You are trying your best not to look at his defined torso, not that you haven’t seen it already anyway given your numerous afternoons at the beach but Jungkook has been hitting the gym very diligently lately and well… he is hot — and this is a thought that you should absolutely not have about your best friend so you choose to focus on the material the tattoo artist is preparing. 

Jungkook and the tattoo artist talk for a while, trying to find the right spot and size for the tattoo and they finally settle for the junction between the shoulder and the biceps. With that, Jungkook is pleased to lay down. 

“Are you okay?” He asks and you suddenly feel stupid: you should be the one asking 

“Are you?” You reply 

“Yep!” He exclaims, offering you one of his reassuring smiles 

The tattoo artist informs your best friend that he is going to start and the buzz sound of the machine fills the room. You are watching with attention his movements, trying to detect any unusual thing — just like you knew anything about tattoos. You just want to take care of Jungkook, he is your best friend, that’s normal. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to care at all about the needle in his skin. He is looking at you with an amused smile, especially when you wince as the tattoo artist stretch out a spot to apply more ink.

“Can I hold your hand?” Jungkook asks you

You immediately squeeze his fingers, worried that he is in pain. 

“Does it hurt a lot?” You can’t help but question 

“Yes”

Your heart tightens in your chest. However, Jungkook is not in pain at all — he only feels a mere tickling on his skin. He can’t even explain why he lied. He simply noticed that he has looked for any opportunity to hold your hand lately. Maybe it’s just because he is stressed about leaving Busan to head to the capital with you, afraid that something will change between you two, that you won’t be as close as before even if you attend the same university. 

You bring Jungkook out of his thoughts when you gently pat his head, trying to soothe the imaginary pain away. 

“I swear I won’t tell anyone if you cry” You whisper to him, deadly serious

If Jungkook didn’t want to expose his lie, he would have scoffed to that. Instead, he nods and thanks you. Actually, his gratitude is real: he does feel lucky to have you by his side. He knows that you are always here for him, even when he is in trouble. And most importantly, you are always here when he faces a new important step in his life. 

You stay for a few hours next to him, holding his hand, caressing his head from time to time when you notice that the tattoo artist insists on one particular spot. What you don’t notice is that your best friend has not once looked at the tattoo artist: his eyes were left on you. He can’t explain — neither does he want to. He just wants to appreciate your presence next to him while he is taking such a big decision as marking his skin for life. 

Turning off the machine, the tattoo artist states that he is done and he invites Jungkook to look at the artwork in the mirror. At this moment you realize that you were so focused on your best friend’s well being that you didn’t really look at the tattoo itself. 

You try to tilt your head, contorting your upper body to have a peak too but Jungkook’s body is way too imposing for that. It’s only when Jungkook says that he is very satisfied and turns around that you finally get to see the freshly made tattoo and your eyes grow big. 

“Kook” You whisper, breathless 

“You like it?” 

Jungkook notices that he really, really wishes that you do. Growing up, he’s learned not to bother about people’s opinions but you, it’s not the same. It’s not that he is seeking for your approval but he knows that he is disappointed with himself when he disappoints you. Equally, he tends to like something more if you like it too. And for this tattoo, his first tattoo, he truly hopes that you like it as it is very important for him. 

“It’s… stunning!” You say after trying to find the right word but you are too moved for that 

The ink piece is very delicate, objectively very beautiful but what touches you so much is the pattern: a crane. The top of its head is red, just like the one saw with Jungkook when you were young. It is one of your most previous memories. The winter of your five years old, your and Jungkook’s parents took you to the mountains. It was the first time you saw snow and you were so excited that you couldn’t sleep the first night. You spent hours looking through the window, watching the tiny snowflakes falling from the sky. At some point, a huge white bird appeared and landed close to the window. You wanted to wake up your parents so they could see but you were afraid to make too much noise and scare the bird away. And when you turned your head to spot anyone with whom you could share the show, Jungkook was there, all sleepy. You guested that he wanted to go the bathroom and you whispered-yelled his name, urging him to join you but in silence. Your best friend was amazed, just like you. His black doe eyes were so wide and shiny that you could almost see the reflection of the crane in them and, for the first time, you found your best friend very cute. You watched the crane together, elbows touching each other’s, until it flew away. The next day, you told the story to your parents but they didn’t believe you, stressing that cranes only come rarely to Korea and even less in winter. Since then, the crane was like a secret between Jungkook and you, a precious, almost intimate moment you two shared together outside the rest of the world. 

“I don’t even know what to say, Kook, it’s just… perfect” You add with tears in your eyes and reaching out to squeeze his hand to share your gratefulness to have immortalized this ephemeral and secret instant

“I think it was the most magical moment of my life, and it was with you. It’s always with you, Y/N” Jungkook says with a voice thick of emotion “Thank you for coming with me today” 

Read "Steal My Girl" Drabble here

I'm sorry for being inactive, this is just a little something to thank you for your patience 🩷

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Human Optimism

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“I will be direct with you; I was against your coming here.”

Yafin had not expected such a direct response from the head doctor and was momentarily silenced as they continued.

“When I first read your request to interview one of our oldest patients I saw it for what it really was; a puff piece meant to make a name for yourself with no regard for the patient.”

 “Now that’s not-“ Yafin began before the head doctor cut him off.

“But you wouldn’t take no for an answer and decided to go over my head to the hospital board and pitch it which is the only reason you are sitting here today.”

“Dr. Timlock, I want to assure you your fears are unfounded.” Yafin began but he saw from Timlock’s expression he would make no headway there. “Yet as you mentioned the board liked my story pitch and so regardless of what you may feel this interview is ongoing.”

“Furthermore,” he added for extra spite, “your patient even agreed to the interview and so your say in the matter has lost relevancy.”

The room was silent as the doctor fixed him with the coldest glare he had ever seen. A chill ran up his spine and he felt the room suddenly become ten degrees colder as the doctor stood up from behind her desk and walked around to him.

“Listen here you little sha’rav,” Timlock spoke through gritted fangs, “you may have gotten this sham of an interview but I am still the head doctor of this facility. If I see your questions making the patient uncomfortable or their heart rate jump even by the slightest of margins I will end it right there and then and have your legs broken.”

“That wouldn’t kill me.” Yafin chuckled.

“I know,” the doctor countered with a devilish grin, “just enough to put you into the hospital. MY, hospital; where I will make sure you don’t leave for a long, long time. Do you understand me?”

Yafin’s amused expression quickly fell away as he nodded in silence.

 “Good.” She finished and began walking to the door. “Let’s go meet your subject.” ------------------

Wayfare Station was the most advanced medical facility this side of the quadrant. It operated as a massive two tier medical institution. The first tier comprised of nearly a hundred levels capable of caring for over three hundred different species and the specific environments of their homeworlds to maximize treatment and care, while the second tier comprised of an equal number of levels dedicated to the most advanced form of medical research and testing facilities for cutting edge treatments.

Dr. Timlock was the head doctor and as such maintained a constant stream of data being sent from both tiers of her hospital. Any other doctor would have been overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information but Dr. Timlock was a Vikarian which meant her advanced neural pathways were more than capable of consuming the information and responding in short order. Everything from material request forms to latest emergency admissions she was kept apprised of.

Yafin strode after the doctor as she led them to the research tier of the facility where his interview subject was being kept for observation. It was easy to tell the transition between the two as the hallways slowly began to thin out in crowds of patients only to be replaced by an ever increasing amount of security checkpoints.

“Is this level of security necessary?” Yafin asked as they cleared the sixth checkpoint in the last thirty minutes.

Dr. Timlock let out a snort of amusement but didn’t bother to turn and address him directly as they continued walking.

“What we do here is ground breaking medical research for the betterment of the universe,” she said as they cleared yet another checkpoint that included viral gene scanning, “there isn’t a day going by that we don’t have some form of corporate espionage agent trying to break and steal that research for monetary gains.”

As if to emphasize the point Yafin cleared the next checkpoint and was greeted with the sight of a technician sprinting down the corridor with a jar of some kind before being tackled by three security personnel.

“Doctor.” One of them nodded as Timlock approached. They tilted their head in the direction of the technician being hoisted up, their hands not in iron cuffs. “Caught this one trying to steal the latest batch of treatments for bay 17.”

 Timlock looked over the spy and scoffed. “Couldn’t even wait for a shift change I see; amateurs.”

She turned her attention back to the security guard. “Excellent work as always; have them handed over to authorities and ask for max sentence to be applied.”

The guard nodded and hauled the spy away as Yafin watched; his fingers rapidly typing out what had happened on his digipad.

“What makes you think the authorities would take your recommendation into account for punishment?” Yafin asked as the pair resumed their pace.

Timlock shrugged as if the matter was now little more than an annoyance. “When you hold the lives of many an injured officer in your hands and bring them back form the cold grasp of death they tend to be generous with gratitude.”

Yafin would have liked to press this line of questioning more when the doctor suddenly stopped outside of a pair of thick green plated doors.

“Bay 233,” Dr. Timlock spoke as she swiped her security badge along the access panel, “they’re expecting you.”

The sound of thick metal bolts withdrawing drew Yafin’s attention and the thick metal doors slowly retracted into the doorway revealing a dark interior lit only by several small floor lights inlaid into the walls.

Yafin made to step forward but felt a tight hand grab his shoulder. He looked to see the Doctor fixing him with her cold gaze once more.

“Remember what I said.” she spoke.

Yafin gulped loudly and nodded. With the understanding achieved the doctor removed her grip and allowed Yafin to enter the room. She stepped in after him and the thick metal doors slowly returned to place sealing the room off with a loud thud that made Yafin jump.

“Security measure.” Timlock replied with a trace of amusement. “Nothing can get out of this room that could endanger the facility.”

Before Yafin could ask what they meant by that the floor opposite the doorway suddenly creaked and a large portion of it suddenly sunk into the floor. It peeled away effortlessly as a large cylinder like object began to slowly emerge from the ground.

“Suspended animation?” Yafin asked as he recognized the device as it continued to rise. Dr. Timlock shook her head.

“The treatment side effect made it so long term suspension was untenable. The tube itself serves as a convenient housing apparatus for the time being.”

The cylinder jerked to a stop as it ceased rising and the floor tiles closed back around it. Yafin approached the tube and with the sleeve of his arm wiped away a portion of the built up frost on the side to get a better look at the occupant inside. As he wiped it away a pair of cold green eyes were watching him from beneath the frost and Yafin let out a yelp of surprise before stumbling backwards.  

“May I introduce you to Mr. Morris Findel.” Dr. Timlock spoke up as she held on to her amused smile. “The longest patient held within our hallowed walls by four years.”

“Three years……362 days…to be….exact.”

Yafin looked around for the voice only to see it coming from a voice module built into the side of the tube. Timlock looked unphased by the correction and took a seat along the wall.

“On our world we don’t have 365 days.” She corrected Mr. Findel.

“I’m….human….” the voice continued with robotic overtones, “Of course….I count….by human….days.”

Yafin straightened himself up and finally got a better look at the subject of his interview and wished he hadn’t.

For a moment he thought the tank’s healing fluids had been corrupted as he could barely see Mr. Findel’s face. Yet upon closer inspection Yafin saw that the black fluid swirling around him was not the mistake of a cleaning system, but in fact swarms of machines clumped together into black masses. He was seemingly naked save for the long breathing tube that descended from the top of the tank and connected to his mouth, but the black swarms made it difficult to tell.  

“It’s…rude…to stare.”

Yafin’s observations were broken as the Mr. Findel was now looking directly at him.

“My apologies.” Yafin quickly replied. To his surprise the voice module chimed with robotic laughter.

“Just….pulling…your…chain.”

Yafin was confused by the dialogue and turned to Dr. Timlock to ask if the machine was broken. “It’s a human saying.” Was all she replied before allowing him to turn back around.

“Thank you for meeting with me today.” Yafin began. “I know it must be difficult with your current condition.”

“Oh?” Mr. Findel inquired. “And what….condition…is that?”

Yafin had not expected this question. His mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to find the words without sounding offensive.

“Well…..with missing all your limbs.” He finally stammered out.

To his surprise Mr. Findel’s expression adopted one of confusion.

“What….do…you mean?” he asked. “My limbs…..are right-“

Through the black mass Mr. Findel lifted what had once been his left arm only to find it severed at the elbow; his eyes growing wide in shock.

“What…is…..where….is my…arm!?”

Voice modules were notorious for lacking ability to convey emotion but Mr. Findel’s body motions were becoming frantic as he moved his body to check his other limbs and see them through the black goop of machines.

His right arm was completely gone from the shoulder, his right leg ending at the knee and his left leg only having the ball joint in his torso.

“Oh….god….” the machine began to repeat over and over as the human thrashed around in his tube.

“What did I tell you!?” Dr. Timlock’s voice shouted from behind a stupefied Yafin.

“I didn’t mean-“ Yafin began before he heard the door open once more and a pair of security guards entered.

“Get him out of my sight at once!” Timlock shouted as she ran over to the tube and began entering in several keys in rapid succession. Red warning lights descended from the ceiling as the reporter was whisked away, his last glimpse of his would be interviewee being of one of sheer panic and fear before the doors closed shut on the patient and his career. ------------------

“You….think…he…bought it?”

“Oh you really got him good with that one.”

Dr. Timlock grinned from ear to ear as the door closed behind her and the warning lights suddenly turned off. The room was quiet once more with just her and her patient alone to converse.

“I’ve…been…working on…my acting.” Mr. Findel said with an apparent grin beneath his breathing tube.

“Don’t oversell yourself.” The doctor countered as she pulled up the chair from the wall and sat down in front of Mr. Findel’s tube. “You’re no Danika Wade.”

“Everyone…is…critic.” Mr. Findel replied as he let himself be swirled around in the tube by the tiny machines.

Timlock watched this and the amusement of their prank began to fade away as old memories resurfaced.

She remembered the night Mr. Findel was rushed into her hospital. He was an engineer at the time who had been standing inside the engine room of his ship when a grade 3 explosion was triggered by a faulty power coupling. It blew him to pieces and the ship had barely limped to the hospital station before it suffered catastrophic failure and detonated as the patients were being offloaded.

Findel was projected to be die from his wounds within the hour and her lead at the time told her to move on to other patients that could be saved. Timlock had disagreed at the time and had chosen to do something drastic.

Rushing into one of the research wings, she came back with an experimental vial of nano-machines that were designed to repair even the most serious injuries. Her lead protested the usage of the experimental treatment but Timlock had administrated it anyway.

She’d watched as the machines began to repair the wounds, but all took quickly did she realize why it had remained experimental tech.

Without a base template to work off of the machines could not fully repair the body. They did not regrow his limbs to their former length and dexterity, but instead sealed the wounds shut and designated that he had reached stable condition.

Mr. Findel’s condition had stabilized, but he was still suffering from immense pain internally as not all his wounds were fully healed. When doctors tried to operate on him the machines would rapidly undo their work and “Restore” him to their designated default state leaving him in a state of suffering. Even EMP treatment was unable to disable the machines as more often one was left unaffected from the EMP and would rapidly multiply.

Timlock was nearly fired that day had it not been for the fact that to fire her would have meant admitting the hospital was incapable of treating all ailments and would damage the view in which the hospital was seen universally. So it was swept under the rug, quietly.

Mr. Findel was moved to a research wing for further treatments while Dr. Timlock was now assigned as his overseer. She dedicated much of her time to rising through the ranks to eventually have enough sway to divert the much needed materials to finally cure Mr. Findel of his current tortured existence.

“Is….something….wrong?”

Timlock’s dive into the past was broken by Mr. Findel’s voice. She looked up at him floating in a tube of her own making and sighed.

“Was thinking of the day we met,” she remarked, “and how I failed you.”

“Could….be..worse.” Mr. Findel replied as he shrugged his shoulders.

Dr. Timlock let out a chuckle of disbelief. “How? How could this be any worse?”

“Could…be…dead.” He replied almost immediately.

Timlock’s mouth hung open for a moment before finally relenting to a question she had long since wondered herself.

“Do you want to be?”

Findel said nothing and so the doctor continued.

“I’m no closer to finding a way to turn off those damn things and you’ve been stuck like this for four years.”

“Three-“ Findel began but Timlock would not be interrupted.

“Every day you’ve had since then has been nothing but pain and anguish. Don’t you want it to stop?!”

Findel floated in silence as he pondered the doctor’s words. He could see the years of failures to resolve her debacle weighed heavy around her neck.

“Yesterday…” Findel finally began. “I….didn’t know…..you…were bringing…reporter.”

“What does that have to do with anything!?” Timlock snapped back.

Findel’s expression softened. “Today….was….fun…because…of it.”

Timlock watched in disbelief. The fact that this human, this object of near constant suffering, still had some semblance of fun was almost beyond her capability to reason.

“Tomorrow….may..be worse…” Findel continued, “or……it may be.... better. I…..don’t know…..and that’s…why I….keep going….always…the chance….to be….better.”

[galaxymagitech]

Grave Ghost

For @jasontoddweek2025 - Day 4:

Grave | Buried Alive | Immortal Jason Todd

Summary:

“I’m you,” Jason says, spreading his arms wide. “Don’t like what you see?” He snorts. “Don’t worry, I don’t either.”

Or: Jason visits his own grave and meets his ghost.

Characters: Jason Todd

Warnings: Referenced sort-of temporary character death?

You can read it here or on AO3!

Even on an early April afternoon, the cemetery grounds are cold and the sky is an overcast gray. It rains plenty in Gotham, but somehow, the water never seems to make it to the flora; the flowers are always wilted, and the grass is perpetually yellow and rough. On one of the cemetery’s mild hills, there lies a patch of freshly turned soil. Above this patch sits gravestone carved like an angel, her hands pressed together in prayer, and an empty coffin sitting six feet below the Earth.

Jay doesn’t how long he’s been standing here—whether it was since yesterday or for years—but he’s here now, an incorporeal hand resting on the stone folds of the angel’s dress as he watches a man approach his grave.

The stranger seems to startle when he sees Jay, but then his shoulders slump in resignation. “Hi, Jay,” he says. When the stranger speaks, Jay’s world seems to slide into focus.

“Who are you?” Jay asks, tilting his head to the side. He observes the stranger’s tired eyes—a blue so similar to Jay’s own, but tinged with the barest hint of green—and wild black hair with a streak of white at the front. Jay registers the hard lines of the man’s jaw, so similar to Willis’s, and the grimace that seems set into his face. Then, his gaze travels down to see the scuffed leather jacket, the muscles honed by years of fighting, the scars crisscrossing the man’s forearms.

“I’m you,” Jason says, spreading his arms wide. “Don’t like what you see?” He snorts. “Don’t worry, I don’t either.”

In a flash, Jay is sitting atop the angel’s shoulder, looking down at—at Jason. At himself, but older and stronger and harder. Even though his heart is nothing more than whisps of a memory, Jay feels his pulse pick up. “Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be here. This is my place.”

“Good question.” Jason steps forwards, casually treading on his own grave, and plucks one of the stones Bruce left off the base of the gravestone. Tossing it in the air and catching it, Jason grins. “I came to tell you that I’m going to make them pay.”

Them. Jay tilts his head again, trying to understand. Jay knows about revenge, knows the fire that flowed through his veins when he saw his mother’s dealer, when he learned that Two-Face killed his father, when he fought Garzonas. If the Joker stole someone he cared about from him, he would feel that same desire for revenge.

But the Joker didn’t kill someone Jason cared about. Just Jay.

Jason tosses the stone and catches it again. Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch.

“That’s mine,” Jay says, pointing to the stone. “Bruce gave it to me. Put it back.” It’s a silly thing, to be attached to a rock. But it’s one of the only things Jay has, these days. The jagged stones Bruce collected from the cemetery grounds, an empty coffin, and gravedirt. And this one is something Bruce gave him. A gift from his almost-father.

 “Bruce gave you a lot of things,” Jason says, continuing to throw the stone. Toss. Catch. “Including a funeral shroud.”

Jay still doesn’t understand. It must show, because Jason gestures to Jay’s torn, bloody uniform.

“Robin,” Jason clarifies.

“Robin is magic!” Jay shoots forwards, and then he’s standing in front of his older self, his pointer finger less than an inch from Jason’s chest.

Jason throws back his head and laughs.

“Stop it!” Jay stamps his foot, but he lacks the substance to make a sound, let alone shake the ground beneath him. “Stop it, Jason, stop it!”

Jason gasps for air. “Good one kid.” He shakes his head. “Robin is a death sentence. Because you know what? After everything the Joker did to you, Jay, he’s still there. Still in Arkham, laughing his crazy head off. Still in here.” Jason taps his temple with his pointer finger, then raises his thumb and pulls his hand away like the kickback of a gun. “Blam.” Jason laughs again. “Bruce never avenged you. He never even cared about you. You were nothing to him.”

Toss. Catch. “Then why are you still holding his rock?”

Jason drops the stone like it’s a hot coal, then kicks it away with his foot. Jay tries to pick it up, but his hand passes through it and he slumps in defeat. “I’m going to make Bruce pay,” Jason hisses. “Him and the Joker.”

“I don’t want that,” Jay says. “I never asked for that.”

Jason goes from one to a hundred in an instant, just like Willis always did. “You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Jay flinches away. “You’re just a figment of my imagination!”

“Actually,” Jay says quietly, “I think you’re just a figment of mine.”

“Like hell.”

Jay steps forwards. “You’re just a cheap copy of Willis, a teenager pretending he’s all big and strong and grown up. Laughing like the Joker. Going off about revenge, monologuing. You’re a caricature, Jason. You’re not real.” Jason tries to grab Jay by the throat, and for a moment, Jay’s heart freezes in terror. But then Jason’s hand passes straight through and Jay giggles. “Look at you. Attacking a child, like it’ll make you a real man.”

“Fuck you!” Jason shouts. His voice dissipates into the cemetery’s cold air. “We were never a child, we were a fucking soldier in Bruce’s fucking war and we fucking died for it!”

“We were Robin!” Jay screams right back. “We were magic!”

“You’re not even real!” Jason insists, covering his ears like it’ll stop him from hearing Jay’s voice.

Jay sticks out his tongue. “More real than you.”

“I’m Jason Todd! You’re just ‘Jay’! You’re in my head and I’m not crazy so go the fuck away!”

Jay crosses his arms and huffs out a breath of cold air. “Yeah, I’m Jay. The one with the nickname. The real person. Jay Wayne.” Jason lunges forwards again, but this time, Jay doesn’t even flinch. “I’m Robin. You’re just some kid playing dress-up.”

Jason screams wordlessly, then doubles over, hands on his knees, as he catches his breath. “I’m real. I’m real. Fuck you. I’m real.” He clenches his fists and looks down at Jay to meet his eyes. Jay shivers. “I’m going to give Bruce a choice between me and the Joker. And he’s going to have to choose. And then you’ll see how little we mean to him. Maybe then you’ll finally fucking die.” Jason’s fist flies at the gravestone, hitting it with a sickening crack. Fear shoots through Jay’s chest, and before he knows it, he’s behind the gravestone, peeking out at his older self. Jason’s face goes pale like the corpse that he is. “Wait. Kid. I didn’t—” He sighs. “I didn’t come here to argue with myself.”

“Why did you come here, then?” Jay whispers, still hiding.

“To read you a bedtime story,” Jason says. “You died today, after all. Figured you could use something to help you fall asleep.”

“That’s dumb,” Jay says, but he still slips out from behind the cracked angel statue and sits on the barren earth of his grave, crisscross-applesauce. 

Jason sits across from him, mimicking his position, and pulls a book out of his jacket. Bridge to Terabithia.

“Why that one?” Jay asks, eyes wide. “That’s a sad story.”

“Life’s a sad story, Jay,” Jason says. He sighs. “Because…because you said it yourself: Robin is magic. And magic never comes without a cost.”

“I want a happy story,” Jay pouts.

“Tough luck.” Jason opens the book to the first page. “This is what you’re getting.”

“But—”

Jason stands up gracefully, and for a moment Jay thinks Jason will leave him here in this graveyard, alone forever and ever and ever. But instead, the man—teenager, really—picks up the stone he kicked aside.

“You gotta use your left hand,” Jay says. “Bruce always uses his left hand.”

Jason sighs but transfers the stone to his left hand and places it back on the grave with a pointed look. Then, he sits back down and opens Bridge to Terabithia again. Jay doesn’t protest.

When he reads, Jason’s voice is soft and sweet, reminiscent of the boy sitting in front of him who hangs on his every word.

[whereispearlescentmoon]

@solidwater05 @tinapaysmp I felt like I had to add to this in a reblog rather than a reply.

I had no idea that she was supposed to be evil in his POV originally because I hadn’t watched it (Pearl’s double life pov was the first life series thing I ever saw). So I was legit baffled when he came out swinging with “She’s been corrupting you this entire time!” Because to me it’s just baffling that anyone could think that. In Pearl’s pov is very clear that she is a deeply sad individual who is going a little cooky in isolation. I’m not going to comment on whether or not it’s proper RP etiquette to put that kind of storyline on someone, but I think Martyn may have made a bit of a blunder there definitely. We do have to remember that the players generally don’t watch each others POVs. It’s entirely possible Martyn has never seen Pearl’s double life POV and doesn’t know how events went down from her eyes.

In Martyn’s defense, the whole server kind of wrote her off as evil and deranged, hence why she kind of descended into full bloodthirsty when she was red. She ended up playing into what other people thought of her because she couldnt disprove it.

It also helps that part of her whole “going insane” arc is genuinely Martyn’s fault. He didn’t have to ditch her and blame her for the whole divorce thing in the first episode when going to the nether was his idea. He chose to not team up with her and to instead say it was her fault and try to chase after Cleo. So you could almost see it as him trying to deflect blame by blaming something supernatural rather than himself.

I also think that Martyn and Ren are maybe even larger contributors to the whole Scarlet Pearl thing than even Scott or Cleo. Ren called her a demon and said she had wickedness within her and brought death wherever she went after she did something admittedly reckless, but completely standard for the Life Series. And then Martyn played into it with the whole dog log thing, acting like Pearl was some evil spirit to be summoned via ritual. I think the only reason Pearl even entertained Martyn and Ren’s team up idea (however briefly) was out of sheer loneliness. But ultimately would that team up have even been worth it if it’s with two people who saw her as somehow supernaturally evil for literally no reason? She wasn’t even red at that point, no one had a real reason to fear her.

The Tilly being evil thing is, like you said, Martyn fully misunderstanding a situation and rashly deciding he knows the solution to a problem that doesn’t exist. I’ve said it before but Martyn plays extremely impulsively. Of course he tried to kill something he didn’t understand.

Listen I love Martyn’s watcher lore and his narratives as much as the next guy but there’s two instances of his lore straight up failing that I find extremely funny, and that you would would only really know if you’ve watched these two povs. Again, cannot emphasize enough, I love Martyn’s lore and he can do whatever he wants and it’s fun when other creators play into it (Jimmy being the best example) but it’s also very funny when they just don’t.

The first example is when he created that little story that actually Tilly was evil and corrupting Pearl into becoming Scarlet/Red/5 AM Pearl. This of course failed because he had no way of knowing that Tilly had already died when he went to fight Pearl in the finale, as only the owner of a wolf sees their death message. Also, the fandom at large rejected it because from Pearl’s POV, Tilly is her soulmate and her best friend, and is absolutely not evil.

The second is that Gem has her own Life Series lore, which again is only in her POV, that goes directly against his. Gem’s lore, which exists through her Empires and Hermitcraft series as well, is that she remembers literally everything and is willingly traveling across worlds to do things. So the whole “people are made to play the games and also don’t have emotions tied to the previous ones” doesn’t apply to her because she is just willingly participating and still feels exactly the same. Hence her intense beef with Pearl in Wild Life because she remembers Secret Life and the emotions connected to it. You could try to fit this into Martyn’s lore by making her a watcher or a listener, but it’s funnier to me if she’s just a special exception.

Honorable mention to ZombieCleo, Smajor, and Pearl who have also disproven the whole “no emotional ties to previous games” thing multiple times by being deeply emotional towards each other and towards other players about things that have happened in previous games. Cleo literally still felt bitter at Impulse for 3rd Life at the beginning of Wild Life and that’s beautiful.

[muwapsturniolo]

Let’s talk about it.

Tw! Mentions of suicide, slurs, rape accusations, triggering shit in general

As most of yall know there has been drama this past week that I was dragged into as well as rose. This drama started off as something petty that rose and I didn’t want to be involved in, and because I unfollowed the people involved, and told them it wasn’t right to drag rose and I into it, and rose blocked the people involved, suddenly one of the people is dead and rose and I are being blamed.

Now, death is a serious thing, however you’re not gonna blame someone killing themselves on me when I didn’t do anything to them. That’s horrible and disgusting, and it’s fucked up. Do you understand how serious of an accusation that is? Of course I’m not going to care if someone is dead and I’m being blamed for it.

Posts are being sent to me on anon and I’m seeing people say I joked about death. I didn’t joke about shit, I made a few insensitive comments and said I don’t believe she’s dead and I stand on that. I already messaged this acct but to make a video and say “this is just like telling someone a person faked a raped accusation, I’m gonna believe her until she is proven guilty” is actually crazy considering this is two different fucking things, and there’s actual evidence that I didn’t kill nobody.

(Convos with Aaliyah proving I didn’t say anything crazy to her)

This sounds harsh but idc because it needs to be said. If you kill yourself because you dragged two people into sum shit that they didn’t ask to be dragged into, and they react by telling you that you were wrong and they unfollow and block, there is something actually wrong with you.

This is giving the same energy as a manipulative toxic narcissist boyfriend/girlfriend/whoever the fuck, that threatens to kill themselves because you want to break up.

I was literally being harassed on instagram live, a person was watching the live and sending me anons calling me all types of slurs and responding to what I was saying. They kept accusing me of “killing their friend” and that’s bullshit.

How is it possible I killed your friend when them ending their life has nothing to do with me? Like honestly think about it, I’ve posted the messages between me and Aaliyah, nothing bad was said. So no, I didn’t kill your friend nor did I tell her to.

And also, as I was on live yesterday, I showed two accts, one that ik for a fact is Aaliyah, and one that I’m 99% sure is Aaliyah. The 99% one is 99% because I went through their old stories and they were speaking French (which Aaliyah was), was black (which Aaliyah was), had the name Aaliyah and followed me on both my instas, and also looked 13-14 (which is what people kept claiming her age was) After I showed the one I wasn’t 100% certain about, people in the live were getting blocked by that acct and the weird person harassing me on the live admitted they were on the acct and blocking people. The said it was cause I showed her face but there were no photos on the acct of Aaliyah nor was the pfp her. ALSO THE ACCT LITERALLY WAS POSTING EARLIER THAT DAY

Now, I’m starting to believe this was all Aaliyah because she didn’t want to take accountability, but part of me still believes it’s Lila because she has done odd shit in the past which was confirmed by someone.

(Confirming that Lila has made multiple accts to interact with rose and rose keeps blocking her)

Also Lila claims she never blamed me or rose and someone else claims bendetta never did. Is she didn’t, then what is this?

Is this not Lila trying to have a gotcha moment ?? Mind you, Lila unblocked me just to tag me in this post. Then when I called her out she blocked me immediately because she knew she was wrong for blaming me and rose.

So basically to sum up this post, I didn’t kill anyone, rose didn’t kill anyone, stop talking on shit you don’t know anything about, and don’t fake your fucking death and accuse people.

[ni-idea-07]

My favorite person.

TW: Yandere themes, kidnapping, mentions of murder and kidnapping, explicit kidnapping, and more.

Jason loved you, he loved you so much since the moment he saw you. You were so young, full of life, and eager to help people living on the streets. He watched you from a nearby rooftop when you handed out blankets and food to the homeless in Gotham.

That’s when Jason began to follow you.

He discovered you were a journalist, and in Gotham, that was practically a death sentence.

Don’t worry, Jason followed you everywhere and eliminated some of the people who were also trying to kill you.

He also gave you gifts he knew you would like; he sent anonymous messages about events that hadn't gone public yet, even sent you some photos for your blog, and even large floral arrangements.

Although he had a lot of work, he couldn’t stop watching his news segment. He liked watching you talk about a case, he loved how you looked so smart, so confident, and with those dresses that highlighted your lovely curves.

He was a huge fan of your work, loved the way you wrote, and couldn't wait for the next update on your weekly blog, which led him, out of love, to hack your computer and gain access to everything—even if you noticed.

Still, nothing compared to the pain he felt when he found out you were writing a blog about him and that you were planning to present it on the news. He felt betrayed. After everything he had done for you, how could you do this to him? He just wanted to protect you, but you betrayed him.

And you will pay for that.

He slammed his laptop aside, rising from the chair and pacing back and forth in his hideout. His mind was a whirlwind. He had protected you, given you everything, even things he had never given anyone else. He felt vulnerable with you, and you had stabbed him in the back.

—“How could you do this to me?”— he murmured, clenching his fists.

He knew he needed answers, needed to confront you. But more than that, he needed you to understand what you had done, what you meant to him, and why your actions were unacceptable.

That night, while you were working on your blog at home, you received an anonymous message. The sender had been your constant source of exclusives, so you didn’t suspect anything when you opened it. But this time, the message was different.

—“Do you think you can write about me and get away with it? We’ll see each other soon.”—

A chill ran down your spine. You looked around your apartment, feeling like someone was watching you. You tried to focus on your work, but the fear was palpable. You closed your laptop and decided it was better to go to bed early.

That very night, Jason was in your apartment. He had entered effortlessly, using the skills he had learned to open your lock. He watched you sleep, his dark figure blending into the shadows of the room. His gaze was fixed on you, a mix of adoration and anger.

He quietly walked to your desk, looking at the notes and drafts on your laptop. He wanted to destroy it, erase all traces of what you had written. But he couldn’t do it without confronting you first. He wanted to hear from your lips why you had betrayed him.

You woke with a start when you felt a hand on your mouth. Opening your eyes, you saw him. Red Hood was there, standing in front of you, his intimidating yet familiar figure. You tried to scream, but his hand firmly covered your mouth.

—“You’re not going to scream. I just want to talk,”— he said in a calm but tense voice. Slowly, he removed his hand, giving you space to breathe.

—“Who are you? What are you doing here?”— you asked, your heart racing, although something inside you already knew.

—“Isn’t it obvious?”— he said as he took off his mask, revealing his face. —“I’m the subject of your blog. I’m the man who’s been protecting you from day one.”—

Your mind took a moment to process it. —“You...”— The words caught in your throat. You had researched so much about Red Hood, but you never imagined he’d be this close to you now.

—“Why did you do this?”— he asked, his voice heavy with pain. —“After everything I’ve done for you, why did you betray me?”—

—“I don’t know what you mean...”—

—“You’ll understand, don’t worry, princess.”—

—“I’ll delete it if that’s what you want,”— you whispered, but your words only seemed to fuel his fury.

Jason stepped closer, leaning over you. —“No, you didn’t. But I did because I love you. And now you’ll understand what that love means.”— His gaze was intense, dangerous.

You had no escape. And at that moment, you understood that things would never be the same.

He tried to grab you, but with a swift move, you covered his face with the blankets, using the confusion to run.

You ran. His footsteps echoed behind you. The door was near. Not close enough. You felt the tug on your hair.

—“We’ll be together, together forever,”— he spoke as he slammed your head against the wall.

—“I love you... and we’ll be together forever,”— he spoke with such tenderness, then removed his red helmet and kissed your bloodied and semi-conscious face. Everything looked blurry.

His smile was sweet and disturbing, a smile that promised you would never escape. It was the last thing you saw before you passed out.

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Thank you so much for reading my blog. This is the first one, but I hope you like it.

place your orders🫠

Bye bye

[honeyxbunny99]

Sandor Clegane~ The Bitch and The Hound pt.13

Anna shook you gently awake and you made a pout and a soft whimper escaped at the harsh reality break away from Sandor.

“The first house we see we’re going in it.” The man of your dreams spoke, already on his horse.

“Good morning.” You replied sarcastically, standing up and turning to face him, body still stiff from slumber. “And what if there’s someone inside the house?”

“That’s shit for him then I suppose.”

You barely had to help Anna onto her horse and afterward you began your approach to Stranger. “And if it’s a family? Don’t you think most single men are off in this war, dead or alive. We’re far more likely to come upon the family he left behind.” You proposed, securing your foot in the stirrup and attempting to smoothly mount Stranger with Sandor in the way. His hand graced your lower back as you swung your leg around and your heart beat quickened.

“Shit for them then.” He said as you adjusted yourself against his lap, and he tried not to let it excite him. You turned your head to look at him disapprovingly. “You don’t mean to just take someone’s home.”

“I do, and if they’re stupid enough to fight about it, I mean to kill ‘em.” He grinned, showing off his teeth.

You looked him up and down, mouth opening and shutting wordlessly before you turned around again with a sigh. What could you possibly say to him? Stranger began his stride away from the woods and you began to think.

Without turning around, you asked, “Do you really love killing?”

“That’s what they say, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s what they say… I’m asking what you say.”

“Yes.” He answered simply.

“Would you kill anybody?” “You’ve got someone in mind?” “Well no, I mean.. Anybody in a broader sense. Women, children, your family?”

“Suppose I already have.” Your heart sank at the thought.

“Would you do it again?..”

“If I need to… Anyone that stands against me must wish for death. And if we ever cross paths with my brother it’s my intention to kill him, or die trying.”

“You can’t say that.” You shook your head.

“I can and I will.” “Sandor we need you. You’re forbidden to die.”

He chuckled behind you. “Tell that to The Mountain. Even if he doesn’t have orders for it already, he’ll want to come teach his baby brother a lesson… If we cross paths with him I don’t think there’s anything you or I could say that would stop his cleaver coming down on my head.”

You cringed and turned slightly to catch a glimpse of him. “Has your brother always been evil?”

“What’s the start of all this anyways? Is this about that boy?”

“Boy?” The realization hit you as soon as the word left your mouth. “Charlie?” You faced forward again, uncomfortable with him seeing you all of a sudden.

“The one you love.” “I-“ you furrowed your brows and saw that Anna was listening to your conversation. “I do love him…” You said honestly.

“You’re wondering if I’d kill your boy if he’d got in the way.”

“I wasn’t… I try not to think about him at all, I’m sure you can understand that, being that you watched him die too.”

Sandor did not say anything for a long while and you tried to focus on the rolling hills to distract yourself. “Who was he to you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and closed your eyes, concentrating your breathing. “He was a great man..”

“He was a boy.” You shook your head. “He was both.. He was brave and kind, and bratty and..” you smiled softly back at Anna when you noticed she must have been reflecting on her own memories of him. “And he lived a very unfair life, and he died a very unfair death because of me… He should never have come back for me.”

“Why did he come?” “He decided we were leaving; us and Anna. I’m not sure how much of a plan there was after that,” you smiled a little, “he was a servant who’d spent his whole life in King’s Landing— didn’t know anywhere else, but he had enough sense in him to leave and take the people that he loved with him…”

You contemplated why Sandor was asking about him, if not only to deter from talking about his terrifying brother. The one you love, who was he to you? He’s jealous. “It wasn’t romantic if that’s what you’re wondering… Though I suppose in the end it wouldn’t have mattered anyways, huh? He was too young to love, I thought… Though he must have felt it in some way because he saved my life over and over again.. The only things he ever asked of me were to keep living, and to grant him a kiss. I fulfilled one wish, I intend to make my life count for him too.”

You looked back at Sandor to see his mouth twisted into a confused frown. “It’s a love like the one I feel for Anna. Trust, compassion, connection, feeling like you want to care for each other, make them feel safe and loved. Haven’t you ever loved someone like that? Your mother, or a best friend?” ~Haven’t you ever loved someone?~

“No.”

The simple word felt piercing. You continued on as if you weren’t devastated that he could not comprehend the feeling. “It’s probably the only love I’ll allow myself to feel ever again.” You looked at Anna, who was still watching you, tight-lipped in disappointment. “It’d be much safer to never love again, but I think I have a great capacity for it. I will always have some sort of love in my heart for my family, my friends, you.”

You swallowed the anxious lump in your throat. “I meant it back then when I said it to you… I know you think I’m some stupid girl, with fantasies of knights taking up space over logic, but it was true then. I’d never felt anything that strongly before, so I know it was love… But once was enough. The consequences of my heart being so open were enough to have closed it up to that kind of love ever again… So thank you for giving me that opportunity, and thank you for saving me… I hope you can learn to trust me, and that we can be allies from here on out. No more grudges.”

After your speech went unanswered, you blushed and began to play with strangers mane. “And I’ll stop talking now..”

~

It wasn’t much longer before Anna spotted a house and drew your attention to it. The three of you slowed, and you looked to Sandor for direction.

“It’s good.” He nodded, dismounting. “Stay with the horses.” He instructed. “But—“

“I don’t know how I can make it any clearer, woman.”

He began his stride without ever looking back. Your nerves intensified the closer he got to the house. You twisted the reins in your hands and chewed your lip, glancing at Anna and praying the home was empty. Sandor entered through the front door, sword drawn, and to your horror, only seconds later you heard a woman’s scream. The children were the first to stumble out, their mother close behind them, looking like she’d seen a monster. Sandor must have been searching the house as the mother held her children close, cowering on the grass. “My baby, please! My baby!”

Her cries pushed you over the edge and as you saw Sandor emerge with his sword still drawn, you grabbed the reins tightly and kicked the horse to drive you forward.

“Stop!” You begged, hoping you could stop the horse as Sandor always had. Sandor turned to look at you in shock and his sword even dropped a little. Stranger stopped roughly and you clenched your thighs to hold on. You were breathless with fear but when you saw Sandor up close you watched him roll his eyes and his stance became casual.

“You have a baby in there?” You asked the woman, who was beet red and had tears dripping off her jaw. She held her kids, a boy and a girl, closer to her chest, but the boy tried to step forward.

“It’s my brother!” He tried to be brave, but you could see the fear in his eyes.

You looked to Sandor again for confirmation, and he blinked slowly, as if disappointed, and nodded. You heard very faint wailing begin inside the home and your heart sank.

“Please don’t hurt us! Please don’t hurt my baby!” The mother trembled in horror, pulling her son back by his shirt.

“We’re not going to hurt you.” You assured. “We’ve got to find somewhere else. These children won’t make it to any town.”

Sandor’s eyes scanned across your face and then the faces of the family, and the crying from within the home intensified. You withheld a huff and walked up to him, placing yourself between him and the children. “Please, Sandor. Let’s keep going.” You pleaded with your eyes. He sheathed his sword and took a step toward the home.

“We’re staying here tonight.” He looked at you sternly before softening. “They can stay too.” You breathed a sigh of relief and turned to them to offer a smile. “Come and shut that baby up.” He said when he disappeared from your view.

The mother rushed in and you signaled to Anna to come down. Grabbing Stranger’s reins to tie him to the side of the home, you were alarmed to find the little boy right behind you. “You gonna kill us?” He asked. He couldn’t have been older than 7 or 8.

“No, we’re—.. We just need food and a place to sleep. We won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt us.”

“Yeah well you better be gone tomorrow. That’s when my dad’s coming home, and he’ll slice the lot of you. He doesn’t care if anyone’s bigger than him, he’s not scared of anything. You’ll see tomorrow!” He threatened before running off to find his mother.

You weren’t sure whether telling The Hound about this threat would help or hinder your situation. It was still midday; you were sure you could find another home before sundown. Your stomach growled and you heard the sound of brutish hands rummaging about in the kitchen. Tomorrow, we have to be gone tomorrow.

You entered the small home with Anna and were hit with a wave of nostalgia for your own upbringing. It was humble, darker than you expected, with its windows all boarded up, but it had food and drink on display and a fireplace to keep warm at night.

“Excuse me, sir, th-that’s my husbands…” the mother spoke up, bouncing her child in her arms.

Sandor continued to chug down a bottle of liquor and when he pulled it from his lips he smiled. “He’s not here, is he? And we’re your guests… You’d do well to keep your trap shut or you can all take your chances sleeping outside.”

Part of you wanted to argue with Sandor, but an indecent part of you knew that he was right. Her husband wasn’t here, and any chance you had to stay out of sight and get food in your bellies would be stupid not to take. Sandor was being generous to let them be so close to us, knowing they could attack or report.

“Make us a meal, woman.” He commanded.

Her eyes held spite but she still handed the baby off to her daughter and entered the kitchen with him. You tried to distract yourself from the hostile situation by trying to put the girl at ease. She sat in a rocking chair by the cold fireplace and watched you like a hawk as you sat down across from her on the floor.

“You’re very good with him..” you commented softly, and she looked at the baby in her arms. “I never wanted a brother… My father stunk so bad sometimes I thought that was just the fate of all boys.” You looked over at Sandor, who was resting his feet on the kitchen table and leaning back with his bottle, watching the woman work. “I think that I was right.” You turned up your nose and made a face and when you looked back at her she was trying to conceal a smile. “But you’re already used to having a brother, huh? An older brother, right?”

She nodded shyly. “I bet he’s protective over you. That might be nice to have, even if they stink.” “Is that your brother?” She looked to The Hound. You smiled and shook your head.

“He’s my hero.. Like a knight but better. You see his armor?” She nodded. “It’s all dirty because of what he had to do to save me… My friend Anna and I were locked up by some very bad men, and he didn’t like that so he had to kill them. He doesn’t want to be scary and mean but sometimes that’s what has to be done. But he won’t hurt you; we’re just gonna go to sleep here and then in the morning we’ll be gone, okay?”

She seemed to be sorting through questions in her mind as she looked at you. “My father has to kill people. He only kills bad people though, people that want to hurt us.” “Is he fighting in the war right now?” She nodded. “Yes but mama says only for a little while longer, and then he can come home and meet the baby.”

You smiled softly. “What’s the baby’s name?”

“Robert.” “That’s a nice name—“

“It’s my father’s name.” The boy surprised you again, having come out of his room and stood behind you with his arms crossed.

“And your name?”

“Robert.” He furrowed his brows.

“All three of you?” You raised your expression in surprise.

“My name is Beth!” The girl chimed in drawing your attention again.

“Well I should hope so, you look a little too pretty to be named Robert.”

She smiled and bit her tongue to hold back a laugh.

“My name is (Y/n).” Beth’s eyes lit up and she gasped. “That’s my doll’s name!” “Shut up.” Robert said, clearly annoyed at how freely she was speaking to you now. “Take the baby!” She demanded, trying to stand up to hand him off. They argued like siblings until he rolled his eyes and took his baby brother, still glaring at you while Beth ran off to find her doll. “Here she is, (Y/n)! Isn’t she, mama, isn’t she called (Y/n)?!” She showed off her straw doll and the mother nodded at her with a nervous expression.

“Have you got a doll called Anna?” You asked, and Anna smiled. The little girl shook her head and you threw up your hands. “Well we’ll just have to make one then, won’t we?” The three of you raced outside and gathered as much straw as you could, dropped it on the table and crafted little dolls all afternoon. You asked Robert, still holding baby Rob, if he wanted to join you but he sneered. “Dolls are for girls.” “We could make one a soldier, like your father?”

He shook his head and walked away. None of you minded much, though, and you felt true happiness teaching Beth how to give her doll a skirt. You felt like a child again. The mother called for supper and you all cleared the table. You told Beth that she could have her chair back, but she insisted on sitting with you. The two of you shared the same seat, Sandor sat at the head of the table, the son across from you and Anna at your side. The mother went off with her baby into the bedroom to nurse and you tried to ignore the tension between Robert and Sandor as you ate. Beth pulled you by your neck down to whisper loudly in your ear. “He’s better than a knight?” She asked, and you blushed knowing the everyone at the table could hear. You nodded and looked at Sandor, willing him to be kind. Beth hopped off of the chair and brought her dolls to Sandor, holding them out to display. “This is (Y/n) and this is Anna.”

Your nails dug into your palm anxiously and you held your breath waiting for his response. Please be kind, please be kind.

Sandor looked at the sweet little girl’s face, and then at the dolls, taking them in his hands.

“They’re pretty.” He complimented, surprising you. “Can I keep this one?” He asked, pulling the doll with your name close to his chest. Beth quickly tried to snatch the dolls back and said, “No!.. If you want one you can have the one I messed up on.” He gave the dolls back and she rushed over to the living room to offer him the doll with one big arm and one small. “She hasn’t got a name so you can call her whatever.”

“Think I’ll call her Beth.” He nodded and her mouth gaped.

“My arm’s not messed up!” “No, but she’s about as big as you.” He joked and she smiled and skipped back over to your seat. She nodded at you and said quietly. “He’s funny.” “Sometimes.” You agreed, pleased with him.

“And smelly.” You smiled harder. “I think we’re all smelly.”

“Oh Robert, the hole!” Beth cheered, and Robert shook his head. “Yes!” She continued.

Anna and you exchanged curious looks.

“Father said not while he’s away.” “He’s been away, Rob! I’m asking mother.” She defied and ran off to her mom.

“What’s the hole?” You asked. Robert remained silent, glaring in Sandor’s direction.

“If you’re not gonna eat that, boy, you might as well take your sneer somewhere else.” Sandor grabbed meat off Robert’s plate and threw it onto his own.

“She said yes, she said we can go!” Beth came barreling down the hall. “Go where?” You frowned.

“The water hole! It’s not that deep and I can teach you how to swim, I’m really fast.”

“Beth, they’re big. They can just stand up, you idiot.” She stuck her tongue out at her brother and took your hand, and you in turn grabbed Anna’s to follow you. “A-Are you coming, Sandor?” You looked back as you were pulled away. He only looked down at his food. Beth led you for a long while and with each step you grew more and more anxious having left Sandor behind. “How much further is it?” “Just a little bit more.” She assured. Anna seemed to be unbothered, so you tried to relax as well. Finally you saw it. A beautiful pool of blue water crafted by stone. “Father built it when I was still in my mom’s tummy. It’s never cold!” She said excitedly. The little girl practically jumped in the water and eventually convinced you to brave it as well. Your main concern was your dress— you had no other clothes. But when Beth pouted up at you and splashed, you conceded. The two of you pulled Anna in as well and splashed around until the sun was nearly set.

The three of you began your journey back, Beth falling behind until you agreed to carry her on your back. “You think everything is alright back there?” You asked Anna, who gave you a less than convincing nod. As you marched on, you tried to focus on the feeling of the little girl resting on your back. You and your sister were close when she was this young, and it made you want to travel back in time to be with her like this. Or travel forward, you pondered. You considered what it would be like to have a daughter.

Duty would pull you to birth a son, an heir to a noble, and you had truthfully never considered for long the possibility of having a little girl of your own. You remembered your vow to never take another man, and sighed. Maybe in another life. Then you thought harder. You had consummated your marriage to Sandor. You had bled since then, but only for a day— highly unusual for you. Panic began to set in. At last you came upon Beth’s mother, waiting right outside the door with her child asleep in a cloth tied around her torso.

“What’s wrong with her?!” She worried, but you set her daughter down off of your back and she stumbled to find her footing.

“Nothing, she’s tired s’all. Thank you for trusting us, she had a lot of fun, I think…”

Beth rubbed her closed eyes and walked over to take her mother’s hand.

“Is everything alright in there?” You asked nervously.

“Seems to be… Have you got any other clothes?” She looked between Anna and you and you shook your heads shamefully. “Come on then.” She sighed.

She tucked her daughter into a large bed and began to dig through a dresser beside it. “Don’t have anything as nice as that..” she trailed off, and you shivered.

“Dry is all that matters to us.”

She handed you and Anna simple dresses and the two of you went outside to change. When you entered the home again you saw Sandor, bottle still in hand, but he had removed his armor and chainmail. “Must you drink all of her husband’s alcohol? She’s been kind to us…”

“She’s been compliant.” He argued. “Do you think she’d welcome us in if I didn’t have my sword? She’s afraid of us— of me at least.”

“Not everyone is cruel, Sandor.” “Aye, not everyone is cruel. But everyone is looking out for themselves. She’s got a family, she’s not gonna risk that for strangers. Make no mistake about it, it’s not kindness that keeps us in this house.”

Perhaps he was right.

“We’ll leave in the morning, yes?”

He thought for a moment. “Yes. We’ll have another long ride ahead of us…”

He approached you and you tried not to flinch when his hand came up to your face. It wasn’t out of fear, only surprise. His fingers stroked down a small lock of your wet hair right beside your cheek. Is he drunk?

“How was the water?” He asked, fingers lingering by your neck, knuckles barely brushing against your throat. Your eyes were wide at his actions, at the stark change in his tone, but you didn’t want him to stop the sweetness. “It was perfect… You should have come…”

Sandor was so close now that you could smell the booze on his breath but you did not cringe away from it. He tucked your hair behind your ear and laid a heavy hand on your shoulder. He took a step back, took another swig, and smirked. “Look like a proper mother in that dress.”

You smiled, embarrassed. “It’s the dress of a proper mother.” You picked up the sides of the dress and twirled it a bit. “What, you don’t like it? You prefer me dressed like a harlot?”

He took one more step back, smiled and scratched his beard. “Never seen you in anything I didn’t like… except maybe that sack of potatoes.”

You snickered and shoved past him. “Wait.” He grabbed your arm and you stilled. “You said you can keep watch?”

As tired as you were, you were pleased with this new responsibility— this new trust, and so you nodded.

“Keep a watch on that little fucker right there.” He nodded to Robert, who was sat on a chair in the corner, holding a large wooden rolling pin. You tried not to snicker at how serious the little boy looked. “Think he means to bash my skull in.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” You nodded again, and placed your hand over his on your arm. “Get some sleep.”

With that, he swayed off to Robert’s room and you heard the bed sink and creek with the weight of him flopping down on it. Anna started up the fire with fresh wood and the two of you sat up taking turns brushing through each other’s hair. You watched Robert doze off in the corner of your eye and smiled to yourself as the rolling pin dangled in one weak hand. Anna pulled some blankets from a cupboard and made herself a cot on the floor, falling asleep just as quickly as her head hit the ground.

You watched the fire until your eyes burned and then found one of the straw dolls you had made earlier that day. A child. Could it even be possible for you now?

“What are you doing here?” Came a voice, startling you into a gasp. “Gods!” You whispered, relaxing once you laid eyes on the mother. “You scared me…” you let the doll rest again on the table and walked back over to the fire. “I’m just keeping watch..”

“Someone hunting you? The royal guard, perhaps?” You hoped your anxiety didn’t reflect in your expression. “Never can be too careful..”

“That’s The Hound, isn’t it?” She approached, settling into her rocking chair, the baby still swaddled in her arms. “Face half melted… The King’s mad dog, now without a King.”

“You’re mistaken. We’re just passing through… I’m sorry we had to stumble upon you, we’ll be gone in the morning. Your son’s already told me you’re expecting your husband back and we don’t want—”

“My husband isn’t coming back.” She cut you off, eyes glazing over when she cast them to the fire. “He was sick… Getting worse every day. Nothing I knew to do was helping.. Robert left months ago. He said he didn’t want the children to watch him die, weak. So he told the children he was going off to fight in the war. A war that didn’t exist.” You glanced again at Robert to make sure he was still sleeping. She looked behind her at her son and sighed. “He misses his father every day. He’s the man of the house now, acts tough, but I know he’s scared. Today, he was scared… But you have control over him now, don’t you? The Hound?”

You furrowed your brows and shook your head a bit. “Nobody controls anybody.”

“Where are you heading?” You said nothing, only watched the shadow of the flames flicker on the floor.

“You don’t have to leave…” She surprised you. “I don’t want my son to be afraid anymore.” Her voice wavered. “He ought to grow up with a man, a proper man around. We need someone to hunt, to fix things… Beth adores you, I haven’t seen her smile like that in so long.. If you’re running from someone, you’ll be safe here. No one comes around.” She tried to persuade you. “You can settle here..”

You were so caught off guard by this conversation, you didn’t know what to say. She was asking you and Sandor to play house with her family.

“I understand your worries.. as much as I can… I think we have to be moving on though.”

She nodded and the two of you continued to sit in silence deep into the night. At one point, the baby stirred and she began to feed the child from her breast. “Did you know he was sick before you were pregnant?” You asked boldly. “No… He wanted to be in his life, but he got bad fast.. It’s the only time I’ve had to go through it alone. Bringing this baby into the world was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

You nodded. “Your first two were easier?.. Not too painful?”

Her brow furrowed and she smirked. “Oh, very painful… But worth it.”

You nodded again, looking down at your lap.

“I saw the blood in your clothes… Is that what you’re worried about?.. Did he take you?”

You shook your head and smiled softly. “No, no, he… Well, yes.. I don’t know how long it’s been.” You tried to reflect. “I started bleeding long after the last time, but it was different.” “How much blood?” She sat up, more invested in the conversation now.

“Same as always for the first day, but that’s all that it was. It just stopped.”

“Are your breasts sore?”

You shook your head but reached up and squeezed them to ensure you weren’t crazy. “No… I’m hungry though, and my mother said she knew she was going to have my sister when she bled for just a day.”

“Sweetheart, that bleeding is different. It’s very light, very light cramping, and you’re more tired than hungry.”

“Well I have been tired—“

She smiled knowingly and shook her head. “You’re not pregnant… Your bleeding likely stopped from stress, malnutrition.. You’re tired and hungry because you’ve been riding horseback for who knows how long. The Gods only give us what we can handle, child…”

You frowned at her but nodded just to dismiss the conversation. “You seem disappointed..?” She said, but you shook your head again. “Would you want a child?”

“I always knew I was supposed to have one, or two… That was my purpose; marry a nobleman and give him children— raise the standing of my family. It never really mattered if I wanted one or not…” You looked up at her. “After everything I’ve been through my answer should be no. It should be simple. But it isn’t..” you felt your emotions rise. “I think I would.. I think I do… It could be beautiful y’know, to bring something so small and good into this world.”

She nodded. “Would you want his child?”

A tear slipped down your cheek that you hadn’t even realized was brewing and you wiped it away and rolled your eyes at yourself. “It’s not like that anymore.”

“You’re not married?” She asked, and your head snapped right to her. “Did he—“

“He said you were his wife… I didn’t believe him until I saw the way you looked at him just before bed.”

“There is nothing in the way I look him.” You were stern. Never again would you be persecuted for having hearts in your eyes. “As you say.” She didn’t argue and you were grateful. ”You should rest.” You suggested, and she sighed and stood.

“Will you ask him about it? About sticking around?” She paused before rounding the corner into the room with her daughter. You agreed, dismissing her with a wave. When she was gonna you took a deep breath and laid back against the floor, hands on your empty stomach. You considered the safety the home might provide, the charm of the children, and the rest that Sandor and the horses so desperately needed. Maybe one day more.

Sandor watched you from the dark room and sank back down in the bed. It’s not like that anymore, you had said, but it could be, he thought.

[docholligay]

@thoughtfulfuri sorry this took me so long! A revised list of books you should look into reading this year. I could have added more ahaha, but this will keep you plenty busy.

Deeply informed by your list and the brief of:  “Books that have deeply influenced the thrust of the genre and media broadly” 

I also went for breadth over depth--you had some authors with a TON of books on your list, and if you’re looking for understanding of media influence I’m not sure that’s the best use of your time. THis isn’t a perfect list but I think it’ll provide a better net than your original. I do not know what you have an haven’t read. Spots where I think you might have read my recommendation I supplied a second. An incomplete list, because no list is ever complete, and always has huge gaps in judgment. WE can always make a new list next year! 

Agatha Christie -- And Then There Were None This was already on your list and it’s perfect. I prefer Murder On the Orient Express, but in fairness, those are the only two Christie novels I’ve ever read. And I’d keep it to one from each author. 

The Art of War — Sun Tzu  From your list, I have no issue with it

Kurt Vonnegut -- Slaughterhouse Five  This is his best and most enduring work. IF you’re looking for incredible influence, this is the one. 

Octavia Butler -- Kindred  I winnowed down your multiple Butler works to this big hitter. 

Isaac Asimov -- I, Robot From your list, make total sense

Daphne DuMaurier -- Rebecca You had My Cousin Rachel, which is great fun, but Rebecca is THE DuMaurier book. 

Leo Tolstoy -- War and Peace I replaced Crime and Pnishment with this not because I don’t like Crime and Punishment, but because if you’re going to commit to a russian novel, you may as well make it the most influential one ever written. This is routinely hailed as the best fucking novel ever written. It is in fact great. I will reread it with you this year! 

Frank Herbert -- Dune. This is from your original list and it’s fine I guess. I think reading Dune is a waste of time unless you’re super into sci-fi, but I won’t fight it. 

JRR Tolkien-- The Fellowship of the Ring From your original list and yeah absolutely. Cannot hope to ujnderstand fantasy as a genre without reading this. If you like it I recommend the whole series, but Tolkien can be hard for people. 

Harper Lee -- To Kill A Mockingbird From your list. Yes, this is an incredibly important American piece. 

Jane Austen -- Pride and Predjudice. There is no more influential Austen novel. You gotta. If you’ve read P&P read Sense and Sensibility, which has the added benefit of being at least four times better (according to people named Doc, who are me, who do not like P&P) 

Ray Bradbury -- Fahrenheit 451. I actually prefer Something Wicked from your list, but F451 is much more influential. If you’ve read Farenheit, read 1984 by George Orwell. IF you’ve read that, read Brave New World by Huxley. If you’re read that, scrap totally, your list is very sci-fi weighted anyhow. 

Oscar Wilde -- The Picture of Dorian Gray. Replaced A Woman of No Importance, which most people haven’t even heard of, with Picture, a deeply and widely referenced novel. If you’ve read picture, read “The Importance of Being Earnest” or better, watch a proshot of a play. 

Gregory McGuire--- Wicked. I dunno that I think this deserves a spot on your list, but I get that everyone’s talking about it right now. And I like the book! But it’s just not very genre influential, it’s more deeply influenced BY the genre. I left it, because I get wanting to engage with everyone talking about it, but those are my reservations.

WE ARE OFF YOUR LIST TOTALLY NOW. So I took a bunch of repeats off your list. I admire wanting to track influential books, and broaden your understanding of media generally, but I think you were sorta getting into the weeds. So I added a few others that have huge media impact. 

Charles Dickens -- David Copperfield    Boy did this suck for me to try and pick. I fucking love Charles Dickens. He was a dick in a lot of ways, revolutionary in others, and the man could write his ass off. He knew how to write a serial style that also keeps track of itself, and there is stuff that blows my mind as a modern reader even now. (If I hadn’t unintentionally made last years book clubs essentially Brit Lit 2: Brit harder i would be doing a Dickens novel for book club. I do have an idea of theming this year as “The American Answer” so like, we did Brideshead last year and the, well, an, American answer to that book is the Secret History. Here On Earth for Wuthering Heights. I don’t know. Actually, there’s an AMerican restyling of David Copperfield in my to-reads for this year) BUT ANYWAY, I ended up picking David Copperfield. It was Dickens’ own favorite, it’s one of his only first person novels, and it is the clearest example of Dickens’ tendency to impress himself upon a character. It has its flaws, of course, but I think centering yourself on David, a nostalgic, emotional writer trying to make his way in the world up from poverty, gives you a great understanding of both Dickens’ incredible influence and his own understanding of HIMSELF. Wow that was a lot of words. I have feelings about Charles Dickens. Sorry. 

Toni Morrison -- Beloved I didn’t like this book, when I read it. But it is good, it won the fucking Pulitzer Prize. I think Song of Solomon is better for me though. Anyway, you have to read Toni Morrison. The way she weaves in the Black American experience with undertones of magical realism impacts the way stories of what I’m going to call “difficult narratives” are allowed to be told today, influencing even people outside of the Black community. 

Salman Rushdie -- The Satanic Verses A masterwork of parallel storytelling, people keep trying to kill Rushdie over this book, a fantastic story about the immigrant experience in Great Britian. 

And some genre stuff for flavor: 

Spy Novels:

Ian Fleming -- Casino Royale  You know who james fucking Bond is. He was a book character first! 

John LeCarre -- The Spy who Came in From the Cold Okay, I am gonna level with you that this and fleming are two opposite poles, but I think they are two opposite poles that give you a really good look at what the spy novel can be and has been. I really enjoy John LeCarre despite not being huge into the genre

Horror: 

Shirley Jackson -- The Haunting of Hill House  This is the novel that launched Stephen King of all people, among others. Jackson is a fucking genius. 

Stephen King -- The Shining Horror is hard, because I read and love a lot of it. But The Shining had a huge influence on both horror and the American consciousness broadly. 

Fantasy:

TH White-- The Once and Future King. Were you at the book club for this? I cannot fucking remember to save my own life. Anyway, if you weren’t, this and LoTR changed fantasy forever. Same time period, even. How we understand fantwasy broadly today comes out of how Tolkien and White were thinking of it. If you read this, read The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis. 

Grr Martin-- A Game of Thrones Oh, I’m gonna get letters. But genuinely this book changed the game in fantasy, and had a huge cultural impact on America and many other Western countries.

[imaginita-est-omnibus]

(Hey OP this is not meant to attack you, your post just prompted me to actually write something that has been swimming in my mind for a while. Your opinion is valid!)

The reason why I hate the Timeless Child is because it so drastically changes the character of the Doctor. One of the best things about the Doctor to me is that, compared to all of the Time Lords, they are just an average guy at best, even a loser. He ran away from the Time Vortex, stole a TARDIS, and is less clever than a lot of other Time Lords (or at least that’s how I understand it, I’m still just getting into extended lore). Compared to humans and most other races, they’re a genius! But that’s only because they’re not being compared to other Time Lords. What makes them different from other Time Lords isn’t how they were born or raised or whatever, it’s their choices. The Doctor chose to steal a TARDIS, chose to show lowly humans the universe, chooses empathy again and again. The Timeless Child origin for the Doctor suddenly makes them special among Time Lords, technically not even a Gallifreyan. Part of the appeal of the Doctor to me is that anyone could be them. (assuming we were born on Gallifrey, of course.) The Timeless Child takes that Everyman-ness away, so I personally don’t consider it canon. Same goes for the half-human thing from the movie.

I also hate the Doctor not knowing who Susan’s parents are. The fact that the Doctor, at some point, had a biological family, had had at least one child, was so fascinating, especially once you realized that he probably killed them during the Time War, if they hadn’t perished already. Taking that away because… what, the Doctor should be more innocent? Because you don’t want to imply they were a neglectful parent/grandparent or something? BS! That line is just as non-canon to me as Timeless Child or half-human, or even the bit in the latest episode where the Doctor said he wasn’t married or whatever it was. (Even discounting whatever they have with half their modern companions + Rogue, they have gotten married at least three times in the show (the Aztec woman from OldWho, River of course, and Marilyn Monroe or whoever in A Christmas Carol), and that’s not even mentioning any extended universe stuff! (He nearly married a werewolf once!))

But bi-generation? Sure that changes the mechanics of regeneration, but a) it was clearly (or at least heavily implied to be) a one-off, wacky occurrence, so it doesn’t have the same lore-disrupting ripple effects of Timeless Child et al, and b) there’s still only one Doctor — the 14th Doctor will still die at some point, and instead of regenerating there and then, will be sent back and still become the 15th Doctor. To me, it’s an interesting twist on the old formula with minimal ripple effects on canon and established rules. It’s unfortunate that we lost the goodbye, yes, but we barely got to know the 14th Doctor anyway. His existence, at least to me, matters more in that it gives Donna and Wilf closure, than for his own sake. It’s Tentoo done right. (<- entirely subjective statement based in my strong bias for Donna and against Rose.)

You’re absolutely right that we should’ve gotten the 14th Doctor in the 13th Doctor’s clothes, though. That is some grade-A, likely-studio-interference bullshit.

Bigeneration is just as lore-changing as the Timeless Child. And yet no one shits on it because their precious RTD wrote it. If Chibnall did something like this, y'all would have your pitchforks at the ready. The double standards in this fandom, I swear. RTD is allowed to retcon Doctor Who, but heavens forbid Chibnall even try.

The Doctor is no longer even a parent because of him. David Tennant is a good actor, but I'm tired of people pretending like he's the face of Doctor Who. The whole point of the show is that the Doctor has different faces, and we should love them all—not regress backwards.

We deserved to see the Fourteenth Doctor in Thirteenth's clothes, and not for everything she is to burn up and die. The Fifteenth Doctor deserved his own regeneration scene like every other Doctor, without Fourteenth randomly sticking around because of RTD's inability to let go of the characters he wrote.

At least the Timeless Child added something more to the Doctor's story. Bigeneration took something away: the emotional impact of the Doctor's regeneration - having to say goodbye.