#If he is one- then he’s definitely the disquieted one. think about it.
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-PÂRO Featuring Wriothesley
Meaning: The feeling that no matter what you do is always somehow wrong—that any attempt to make your way comfortably through the world will only end up crossing some invisible taboo
Word Count: 1.7k~
Description: After accidentally breaking a few laws while at lunch with your boyfriend, he has to ‘punish’ you for your crimes
Edited by: @pretty-princess-peach @tortellini-bandit
You paced around Wriothesley’s office, trying to stay calm. Today hadn’t gone even remotely as you had intended. You were supposed to be having a completely normal lunch with your boyfriend. Unfortunately, however, you had somehow managed to end up in the fortress of meropide… well, in Wriothesley’s office, anyway.
You really hadn’t meant to do anything wrong, but despite that, you had still broken several laws while on your date. Although, it really wasn’t your fault that your fork had caused one of the carrots in your salad to shoot onto the ground, resulting in you getting a littering charge, and how could they blame you for bumping into the table and causing your boyfriend's drink to spill in your lap, which was apparently contact with alcohol while underage (Seriously? You were 20!).
And were they really allowed to call it “evading arrest” when you refused to go with Wriothesley to the fortress?
Despite your refusal, Wriothesley had taken you (read: carried you over his shoulder) to his office in the fortress, and he left you there while he talked to the chief justice about your punishment. Now you were stuck waiting for your boyfriend to return and tell you if you would have to go to jail or not.
Finally, you heard the metal doors creak open after heavy steps came up the staircase. Your boyfriend walked behind his desk and sat down, rubbing his eyes.
“So?”
“‘So?’”
“Do I have to go to jail…?”
“Oh, that.” He smiled gently. “No, but… you do need some kind of punishment. Neuvilette said that community service might be a good idea, but he didn’t give a definitive punishment.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong!”
He sighed, shaking his head.
“You still broke laws, but it is up to me to determine your punishment, since this wasn’t an official trial.”
You stood there for a moment, waiting for him to say more.
“So, what will you decide…?”
He leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrows at you.
“What do you think you deserve?”
You thought for a second. Should you just say something like community service or just a small fine? Or would he think that’s not enough? You contemplated what you should say, but before you got a chance to say anything, Wriothesley spoke.
“I think you deserve to be handcuffed and punished for being a bad girl. What do you think, princess?”
You blushed. Was he really going to punish you like that…? For this? There’s no way this was a legal recourse. You weren’t going to complain if that’s how things worked out, but you were still confused.
“Is that legal?”
He let out a light laugh.
“Do you really care?”
You smiled at him.
“I guess not.”
Wriothesley smiled back at you, but there was something in his eyes that made you nervous. He had punished you before, and you knew that you were right to be concerned, but it still disquieted you.
“Strip.”
You did as he asked. You slipped out of your dress and took off your underwear.
“Come here. Now.”
Wriothesley slid his chair back as you walked over to stand in front of your boyfriend. He looked you up and down, drawing his eyes over your beautiful body. He stood up and grabbed his handcuffs from his belt before sliding them onto your wrists.
“Get on your knees.”
Wriothesley sat back down in his chair with his legs open so you could settle between them. He took off his belt and undid his pants before pulling out his cock.
“Suck.”
You felt the urge to disobey him bubble up inside of you. You smiled up at him and simply stated, “No.”
He returned your smile once again.
“‘No?’”
His voice holds a menacing lilt.
“No.”
He sighed.
“Five, four, three.” You felt a sense of unease in your stomach, and you began to question your resolve. It was hard to be firm in your brattiness when he used that voice. “Two, one, zero.”
He didn’t say another word as he roughly grabbed your hair in one hand and forcibly opened your mouth with the other. He pushed his cock into your mouth and brought you down until you reached the base. You spluttered and gagged as you tried to get used to his cock in your throat, your jaw already hurting from how thick the Duke was.
He pulled you up and down his cock, letting out deep groans as he did so. You wiggled around, trying to slip out of your handcuffs, but you were completely at Wriothesley’s mercy.
After a minute or two of your boyfriend fucking your throat, you had a bright idea. You could use your teeth! Seconds after you slid your teeth against his cock, he was pulling you off and leaning down to look you in the eye, still gripping your hair tightly.
The look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. You had made a big mistake.
“Do that again and see what happens, princess.”
You felt your resistance dissipate after those words. You were already being punished, and you didn’t want to make it worse.
“I’m sorry, your grace.”
Wriothesley smiled softly at your submission. You relaxed your body and opened your mouth. He pushed his cock back down your throat, keeping a firm grip on your hair, far preferring to set the pace himself rather than have you do it. This was a punishment, after all. You did your best to breathe through your nose and relax your throat as your boyfriend used your mouth like a toy.
Your throat felt so perfect around Wriothesley’s cock. He was finally about to cum, but before he did, he pulled out of your mouth so he could cum on your face, rather than down your throat. Bad girls don’t get his cum.
You instinctively closed your eyes and stuck out your tongue before his cum landed on your face. You licked up what landed near your mouth, but with your hands stuck behind your back, you were forced to leave the rest.
Wriothesley took a moment to breathe before standing up and dragging you up with him. He turned you so that you were facing away from him, and he pushed you down on his desk. He stood back, admiring your bent body before grabbing his belt where he left it on his desk. He folded his belt and stood back slightly before bringing it down hard on your ass.
You fought the urge to stay silent and began to count the strikes, just like his grace had taught you. One, two, three, four, five.
“Six!”
You braced yourself for another hit, but it never came. You felt his hand gently run over the marks he had made, and you couldn’t help but wince at the discomfort. Wriothesley removed his hand from your ass and ran a finger up your slit.
“You’re so wet. Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes! Please.”
A choked scream escaped your lips when another hit came from your boyfriend’s belt.
“Please, what?”
“Please, your grace!”
“Better.”
You felt the tip of Wriothesley’s cock at your entrance and almost protested at the lack of prep, but before you could, he was pushing inside of you. Tears were forming in your eyes from how much his cock was stretching you out. Fuck, he’s thick.
He bottomed out inside of you, pausing to let you somewhat adjust to his size. How sweet of him.
When he could no longer restrain himself, he started fucking you hard and deep. You felt like you had ascended to heaven after enduring hell. He filled you up so perfectly, turning your mind blank and holding your hips in a bruising grip as he worked towards his end.
“You’re fucking perfect, taking me so good.”
He couldn’t help but let out a deep moan at the feeling of you tightening around him.
“Feels so good! Thank you, your grace!”
A breathy laugh escaped his lips, and he began fucking you faster, needing you more. You were so perfect for him, taking your punishment without protest, and then taking his cock. Was it really necessary to tell you that you hadn’t actually broken any laws, and that he had used your ignorance of Fontaine’s complicated legal system to orchestrate a night of fun for the two of you? He did have to have a meeting with Neuvilette, so it wasn’t a complete lie, but still.
You were losing yourself slowly to the overwhelming pleasure and could barely form words at this point. You tried to tell Wriothesley that you wanted to be closer to him but all that came out was gibberish. The only thing that he was able to make out was “closer”, and fuck, he wanted to be closer to you too.
He wrapped a hand around the front of your throat and pulled you up until you could feel the fabric and the cold clasps of his vest against your bare back. His lips found your neck, and he kissed up towards your lips until, eventually, you were kissing. His lips moved against yours passionately as he continued to fuck you.
“I’m gonna cum! Please, need to so bad!”
Wriothesley smiled at how good you were being, even asking permission to cum.
“Go ahead, princess.”
You let yourself be consumed by the pleasure and tip over the edge. You saw stars as Wriothesley fucked you through your orgasm. As you came down from your high, Wriothesley continued his harsh rhythm, and you could do nothing but whine from the overstimulation. He always lasted longer than you, and you were almost always overstimulated by the time he was finished.
Finally, you felt his rhythm begin to falter, and finally, you felt him fill you up with his cum. The two of you stayed connected, placing gentle kisses on each other's lips as you wound down from the experience.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
You just wanted to lay down in bed and sleep after such an intense experience. If it weren’t for Wriothesley’s arms around you, you were certain that you would be laying flat on his desk.
“Let’s go home.”
The Duke undid your handcuffs and placed them back on his belt before doing up his own pants and helping you get dressed. Then, he scooped you up and began to carry you home.
Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @izzalovesdilfs @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga @bubblyxdolly @wanderin-stories @iwysbellez @k4ze3e @kenmabfasf @vvyeislazzy @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @hopeless-smvt @bloomingheartz @crazydreamcat @kazumiku @str4wb3rizz @kyon-cherri @ravereina @ashrodisiac
morbific-or-felicific.
#mae’s daily paper☕️*•̊ⴰ✧#mae.melts🧊*•̊ⴰ✧#wriothesley.❣︎•*✧ ̊ⴰ#this might not be my best but it’s finally edited so here <3#afab reader#female reader#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x you#wriothesley x y/n#wriothesley smut#genshin x y/n#genshin x you#genshin x reader#genshin smut#genshin wriothesley
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Coworkers
You and your new coworker find yourself in an awkward position. (Continuation of “Is That My Shirt?”)
Themes: college AU, Moon boys are in separate bodies, f!reader, ridiculous amounts of awkwardness in the library, momentary NSFW, kissing
Wordcount: 2.1k
That was rough. You’d managed to slip past Marc’s confused stance while Jake was chasing Steven down the hall. For the last week you’d been ignoring Jake’s persistent texts teasing you about Steven along with his repeated Venmo requests for the coffee. You were sure sooner or later they’d corner you in one of the many buildings on campus. For now you hid in the one place neither Jake or Marc would go, the library.
Deep in the bowels of the staff area you sorted through a pile of returned book carts, getting everything together as orderly as you can when the familiar tone of your supervisor cuts the silence.
“Hey hey, figured you could use some help.” Her tone betrays that she is about pawn some sort of responsibility onto rather than help.
You didn’t bother looking up when you reply “Oh, hey Donna.”
“This is Stevie, I need you to show him the ropes. Thankssss.” Her voice fades as you hear her footsteps disappear. This can’t be happening this can’t possibly be-
A familiar soft voice interrupts your internal panic, “Hello, sorry I didn’t realize you work here…” You look up slowly, taking in his oversized sweater and slacks. His curls are a bit disheveled and he’s got some dark circles under his eyes.
“Hi Steven,” you try to tilt your voice up a bit, it wasn’t his fault Jake was giving you such a hard time. Judging by how tired he looks he’s probably getting the same treatment.
His eyebrows furrow a bit, worry flashing across his features as he wrung his hands. “I don’t wanna make your work difficult. If you’d like me to leave I can.” He takes a breath and stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking awkwardly at the stacks of books, “No where else on campus is hiring currently but, I can find something.” He shrugs.
You take a deep breath of your own as you watch him, pity pushing you to a choice that definitely wasn’t in your best interest. “No, don’t do that I - I think we can make this work. We can at least try right? I mean nothing really happened.”
He can’t hide the bit of excitement that flashes across his face at your decision. “Yeah? Thank you. You won’t regret this I promise.” His growing smile pulls a twitch at the corner of your own lips before you can tamp it down. You didn’t exactly like how much you were enjoying his enjoyment.
“Come on, grab a cart we gotta return these to the shelves.” You point to a cart and wheel your way out of the backroom and into the main entryway. “I like to go floor by floor. All of these are first floor. I want you to take your time, pay super close attention to the numbers on the spine so you put them in the right spot.”
He nods, his expression a little too serious as he listens to your instructions. “I won’t let you down.” He sounds as if you’re sending him off on a war mission. You chuckle a little at how concentrated he looks as he starts at the first book on the cart and wheels around to find its proper place. You make your way over to the elevator, off to put away the cart full of books for the second floor.
One Week Passes
Steven’s first week at the library is uneventful. He made a few mistakes here and there but he’s really getting to know his way around the first floor. Full of mostly fiction, children’s books, and DVDs the occasional student rents.
Though Steven had been hard at work at his tasks for this past week you couldn’t help but watch him. I mean you were supposed to keep an eye on him. But your gaze lingered in a way that disquieted you. That cuddle session hadn’t meant anything, it couldn’t. You kept your distance as you watched.
But now Donna has decided he should take on more responsibility, and help you on the higher floors. Full of medical journals, textbooks, and stressed students. Anxiety began to fill your gut.
“That one.” You point at a cart and make your way a little too quickly to the elevator. Trying to steady your erratic heart you take a deep breath. You can hear Steven’s light trot behind you and the squeaky wheels of his own cart as he catches up.
“You alright?” He asks gently as he stands beside you. Close beside you, why was he nearly touching your shoulder with his own Jesus Christ.
“Yeah fine, why.” You force a light tone which, judging by his face he catches immediately. The elevator dings and you both make your way into the cramped space.
“It’s just, you’ve been a bit short today. Didn’t know if anything was wrong or if - if I was doing somethin’ wrong?” He looks at you with a mixture of a plea and cringe at what you might say.
“You’ve been doing fine, great actually.” You say softly as you hit the button for the third floor. The doors close infront of you, the shiny metal reflecting you both. You meet Steven’s gaze in the reflection, you heart thundering so hard you began to wonder if he could hear it, “That’s why Donna wants you to help up here.”
His gaze shifts in the mirrored door, settling on you directly. “Do - do you want me to help up here?” You meet his gaze, brows tilting up at his sincerity.
“I -“ your sentence cuts short when the doors open, you quickly scoot out of the cramped space and disappear into the stacks.
You think you’ve momentarily freed yourself from the awkwardness of the elevator till you hear Steven clear his throat behind you. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-“ you whip around and he throws his hands up in surrender “I’d just like to know if I should make myself scarce yeah?” He whispers.
You take another steadying breath, “You’re fine Steven, I’m just having a tough day. Let’s knock this floor out, we’ve got more carts waiting downstairs.” You whisper back to him.
He nods once and takes a look at his cart, picking a textbook off and sorting it carefully on the shelf. As you both begin your work in that aisle you hear a soft, rhythmic creaking. Confusion furrows Steven’s brow as you feel like your heart is about to jump out of your throat.
“What’s that?” He whispers and looks toward the direction of the noise.
You sigh and pinch your brow to gather your nerves, “Just, brace yourself.” You both silently shift through the stacks toward the noise. Please don’t be what you think it is for the love of everything please.
You make your way to a small seating area in the very back. When you look across the sets of conjoined carrel desks you don’t see anyone at first. But what you hear struck a nerve in your core. A muffled whimper and the wet, soft, steady sound of skin hitting skin.
An unintelligible look crosses Steven’s face as he blushes. Normally, you’d just drop a heavy textbook to send horny students scattering in different directions. But what you saw shocks you, Steven was creeping toward the sound.
Dumbfounded you follow behind him. Curious as to what the fuck he thought he was gonna do. Steven froze just as he must’ve caught a glimpse and when you round the corner you see exactly why.
There was Jake, rutting into a girl bent over the desk, one hand clasped over her mouth. His other hand gripping her exposed breast, twisting her nipple in tandem with his thrusts.
“Jake!” You gasp, the girl beneath him jolts and looks at you with wide eyes. Jake however, only slows his thrusts momentarily. Keeping her pinned in place as he looks at you.
“Give me five minutes and I won’t give either of you any more shit.” His mixture of a growl and a whisper send lighting through your nerves. It must’ve done the same to her as she whimpers beneath his hand.
You shake your head, grabbing Steven’s arm and dragging him quickly back into the stacks.
“I can’t believe - does that happen a lot?” Steven stammers, that ruddy hue across his cheeks spreads to his ears. His eyes are a bit wide and his breathing shallow.
“From time to time, usually very late at night and never Jake. I didn’t even know he knew there was a library on campus.” You try to joke, to somehow break this awkward heated tension thrust onto both of you. Was Steven as turned on from what you both witnessed as you are? A quick glance down confirms your question.
Steven returns your awkward laugh with his own as he follows you back to your carts. You hoping to whatever god will listen that your underwear will hold all the slickness pooling in them. At one point you could’ve sworn you saw Steven turn away from you to adjust himself, his bulge a little less noticeable once he turned back.
You both work in silence for the rest of your shift, but there’s something different in the air surrounding you two. Steven keeps brushing against you. Whether it be back to back as he moves past you, or the back of his hand grazing yours as he stands beside you. You shake your head to try to clear it. He was probably just distracted from earlier.
You catch his eye for a moment, a flush returns across his cheeks as he quickly looks away. “You alright?” You ask softly.
“Yeah, it’s not the first time I’ve walked in on Jake with a girl.” He tries to shrug but the movement comes off awkward. “It’s just -“ he starts to say but quickly stops himself.
“Hey, we don’t have to talk about it.” You put a gentle hand on his arm, squeezing the soft fabric of his sweater and feeling his toned muscles beneath.
“It’s embarrassing really but, Jake won’t come off it. I kinda feel like he’s doin’ it on purpose sometimes. Like some sort of weird motivation to get me to-“ he stops himself again, the blush spreading to his ears again “get me to lose my…”
“Oh, you’re a…” you aren’t quite sure how to finish that sentence. Virginity was nothing to be embarrassed about but with Jake’s behavior you’re sure Steven must get an earful.
“Yeah, I just haven’t found the right person yet. Most people are such knobs I just-“ his voice trails off as he rubs the back of his neck. His mixed look of frustration and hesitancy stirs something in you. “I’m not looking for some big romantic thing at this point. I wanna get it over with, just to say I’ve done it.” He rubs his hands across his face.
“I could -“ the words jump out before you can stop yourself.
Embarrassment roils in your stomach, did you seriously just offer to-
“You’d do that f’me?” He says softly, his eyes matching his tone with an edge of something else. Something a bit hungrier. “I don’t wanna make things awkward for you, with Marc and Jake I mean.”
“Oh I think Jake and I are pretty even now. In fact.” You pull out your phone. Deny his latest insistent Venmo request and make one of your own:
$20 : you know why.
You look up to Steven just inches infront of you. His deep brown gaze locked on your lips, his breathing uneven. “Can I?”
“Ye-“ before you even finish his lips are crashing into yours, his hands gripping your face in an almost too firm grip. The sheer intensity, the hunger of his kiss draws a moan from you.
You feel him shiver, returning your moan with one of his own as he pushes you against the bookshelf behind you. The force of it knocking a few textbooks loose and landing with loud thuds. You jolt for a moment, “Steven hang on-“
“I can’t,” he kisses you again, snaking a hand behind your head to hold you against his lips. You feel his tongue glide against your lips, causing you to groan. Gods you can’t believe what’s happening right now as you put your hands firmly on his chest and break the kiss.
“You have to.” You whisper firmly. His pupils are blown wide and his chest is heaving as he just manages a nod.
“Oh-okay.” He brushes loose curls out of his face as he takes a shaky breath. “When can we, y’know.”
You catch your own breath as you contemplate for a moment, “I’ll text my roomie to sleep somewhere else tonight. She owes me a favor.”
————
MoonKnight Bingo Masterlist
Taglist: @moonknight-events @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @romana-after-dark @lunar-ghoulie @flowercrownonapegion @howellatme @mooksmouse @ahookedheroespureheart @beezusvreeland @auntiegigi @moonkxit @faretheeoscar
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To The Rescue | Jeon Wonwoo
Pairing: Detective!Wonwoo x Detective!Reader (mentioning Detective!Seungkwan, Hansol, Jeonghan and Prosecutor!Mingyu)
Genre: Mystery, Angst, Romance, Slow-burn
Summary: Eight years had passed since you and Wonwoo last worked together, but fate had other plans. The case you thought was behind you resurfaced, pulling you back into the world you thought you'd left behind.
Author note: i apologize for the mistype or misinformation. This had written before Jeonghan's fic and writing this takes a lot of time and thinking. I warn you that this story mostly focusing on the plot and revealing a dark-side of life. Hope it could be a reflection for all of us🌼
There are two compelling reasons driving your determination to work diligently on this case:
1. You know yourself to be a proficient profiler
2 You want to show them, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are indeed a remarkable profiler.
However, a sudden shift in the dynamics of your team has sent ripples of unease through your professional composure. The arrival of Jeon Wonwoo as your new team leader is the source of this disquiet. His name precedes him—a legendary figure known for solving the elusive cold case of Kim Minjeong, a woman who had vanished for a decade, an enigma that had solved five years ago.
As he introduces himself to the team this morning, there's a sense of awe among your colleagues. They welcome him with open arms, but in your heart, a different sentiment brews. A gnawing suspicion lingers. You can't help but wonder if, in the past, you were the one individual he had clashed with in this very room. The room that had seen its share of victories and losses, now witnesses a new, tense undercurrent that could shape the course of this intriguing case.
Captain Jeon's arrival had added another layer of complexity to the already intense situation within the team. As if by fate, news had just arrived that Park Jiheon, a fugitive your team had been relentlessly pursuing, had been located. The entire unit buzzed with a heightened sense of urgency, each member pulled in various directions by the demanding workload.
Your personal drive to prove your worth and expertise intensified. It wasn't just about showcasing your capabilities to your colleagues; it was about silencing the senior detective who had once doubted your potential. His words had cut deep, lingering as a painful reminder of your earlier struggles.
As you were on the verge of boarding another van with your colleagues, Captain Jeon's voice sliced through the commotion, calling your name. His directive was clear, "y/n, you're coming with me." With hesitation, you halted your steps, swiftly switching gears from the bustling chaos to a mindset of unwavering professionalism.
As you settled into the car seat beside Captain Jeon, the engine roared to life, and the pursuit of answers in the Park Jiheon case began in earnest. His first words cut through the tension, "Tell me more about this case."
You wasted no time in briefing him on the crucial details. "Park Jiheon's status has shifted to that of a prime suspect after we discovered his DNA on the victim. He is now implicated in the murder of a woman, a brutal crime involving a knife, and her body found discarded in a lake. What raises suspicion further is the discovery of an unusual message exchange between the victim and someone who may not be Park Jiheon. This suggests the possibility of not a lone perpetrator, but someone else operating in the shadows."
Captain Jeon, his eyes focused on the road ahead, absorbed your explanation. His next question delved into the heart of the matter, "What is his relation to the victim?"
Your response was swift and conclusive, "Zero communication between them before the incident, sir."
A subtle nod from Captain Jeon signaled his understanding of the significance of this detail. "There's definitely someone behind it," he affirmed, echoing your own suspicions. As the pursuit of Park Jiheon and the elusive truth continued down the winding road, the mysteries surrounding the case deepened, and the urgency to unravel them grew stronger.
Captain Jeon's reminder brought a nostalgic twist to the current situation. "And don't call me sir, we used to be partners before," he cautioned, his smile reminiscent of shared memories. It was evident that he chose to remember the camaraderie and successes of the past, a sentiment that earned a mental chuckle from you, he definitely only remember the good one since you were mostly experienced the bad one.
"Understood, sunbae," you responded, reverting to the familiar address you had used when you were a team.
The operation to apprehend Park Jiheon was in full swing as your team arrived at the location, spreading out to cover all possible escape routes. You found yourself paired with Jeon Wonwoo and the rookie, Hyunjin, who had only joined the team a few months ago. The hunt for the suspect began in earnest.
"I haven't seen him, so I trust this to you," Wonwoo stated, placing his confidence in your profiling skills. Hyunjin, eager to assist, provided a description, "He wears a black shirt, sir," but both you and Wonwoo simultaneously dismissed it with a knowing glance, "it could be removed."
You turned to Jeon Wonwoo, sharing the specific identifiers that would make Park Jiheon stand out. "He has darkened bruises on his neck, and he's limping when he walks."
Wonwoo's smile was fleeting as his eyes remained fixed on the task at hand. "There he is," he declared, spotting a man fitting the description, wearing a black shirt and exhibiting the telltale signs of injury, making his way toward a nearby bus station.
"Hyunjin, inform his location to the others. Y/n, you come with me," Wonwoo instructed, and you nodded in acknowledgment as you both moved toward the suspect with cautious intent.
However, the operation took an unexpected turn. The wail of sirens suddenly pierced the air, startling both you and Wonwoo, and, of course, Park Jiheon. In a panicked moment, he seized an opportunity, darting towards a passing delivery motorcycle, snatching it, and speeding away.
You and Wonwoo immediately gave chase on foot, the adrenaline surging through your veins. You covered miles, running tirelessly, yet ultimately losing sight of Park Jiheon in the chaos of the chase. Exhausted and disheartened, you finally came to a halt, gasping for breath, with little hope of Hyunjin or anyone else catching up.
Turning your gaze to Jeon Wonwoo, you couldn't help but notice the frustration etched on his face. He had lost his quarry, but it wasn't just that; there was also an unmistakable irritation stemming from the less-than-ideal coordination of the team he had only joined earlier that morning. The mission had taken an unexpected turn, leaving you both grappling with the consequences of a missed opportunity.
*
The abrupt sound of a marker hitting the desk jolted everyone in the room. It was the first day of work with Captain Jeon Wonwoo at the helm, and the atmosphere had taken a sharp turn. The tension in the room was palpable, and humor was the last thing on anyone's mind.
In response to the unexpected outburst, you and your team members swiftly lined up in front of him, heads bowed, hands folded, a show of respect and readiness to address the situation. While you were not the oldest on the team, you and Detective Seo Taekwang, in his late 40s, were the experienced ones responsible for guiding the three others: Hansol, Seungkwan, and the rookie, Hyunjin.
Captain Jeon's frustration was evident as he vented his disappointment. "This is too much. Like missing the train that had been waiting in front of you. Do you guys even know the basics of pursuing?" he began, his words a mix of exasperation and concern. He turned to Detective Seo, who had 15 years of experience under his belt, and then to you, with a decade of service. "Detective Seo, it's been 15 years! Detective Ji, you've been at this for 10 years! Have you ever taught these three to catch up, to take the initiative, to head to the car and..."
His sentence trailed off, frustration evident in the way he ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find words to convey his disappointment. The weight of the moment hung heavily in the room, a stark reminder that there was much work to be done to bring the team up to the standards expected by their new leader.
While waiting for the next report, Captain Jeon Wonwoo made his directives clear. "I want you to learn again about basic pursuing. Detective Ji, monitor them. Detective Seo, you can follow me."
As Captain Jeon and Detective Seo left the room, leaving you in charge of the team, the tension began to dissipate. You could hear Seungkwan's apprehensive remark about their new team leader being scary, while Hansol remained silent, engrossed in his notes. Hyunjin, on the other hand, appeared to have melted into his chair, overwhelmed by the morning's events.
Seungkwan's comment prompted you to take charge. "Captain Jeon is so scary," he mused, voicing the unease shared by many in the room. You hummed in agreement and swiftly gathered the team's attention. "So am I. Let's relearn pursuit procedures and evaluate what just happened," you suggested, met with mild protests.
Hansol, however, had a question on his mind and raised his hand, seeking clarification. "Can I ask a question?" he inquired, and you nodded, signaling for him to continue. "When there's no instruction by the leader, should we continue pursuing?" he queried.
You provided a nuanced response, "Yes and no, it depends on the situation. There are situations where acting immediately could heighten the risk. As police officers, our aim is to provide solutions that minimize risk. What was your last lesson on pursuit procedures in enforcement school?" you quizzed all three of them.
In unison, they replied, "Terminating."
You delved deeper, "What do you do before you terminate a pursuit?"
Their answers flowed seamlessly, "Crisis intervention, assessment, and de-escalation."
Your smile conveyed approval as Hansol provided the correct response. "That's right," you affirmed. "Minimizing potential danger is crucial in our line of work. We must always weigh the risks and benefits when deciding whether to continue or terminate a pursuit."
It was evident that the team had a solid understanding of the basic principles, and your aim was not just to instruct but to reinforce their knowledge and decision-making skills. As you sensed their confidence growing, you decided to lighten the mood.
"I think you all have a good grasp of this," you said with a grin. "Let's put the theory into practice after our coffee break. But for now, let's enjoy that coffee and recharge." The offer of a coffee break was met with smiles and nods, a welcome respite from the intense morning.
*
'This is what would happened if you keep doing everything on your own!'
'With that head of yours, how could you be a good detective on the future?'
"That was a bit harsh, wasn't it?" A sudden voice disrupted your daydream. It was Yoon Jeonghan, a friend turned colleague from your academic days. His smile softened the tension that had settled in your shoulders. You sighed, knowing he had overheard Captain Wonwoo's reprimand.
"And loud too, right?" You quipped, rolling your eyes as Jeonghan burst into laughter.
"I was a bit worried about Seungkwan; he's the child of Chief Boo, after all," Jeonghan commented, his concern evident. You sighed again, dreading the moment when Captain Jeon would find out about this fact. "Can't wait until he hears about it," you responded sarcastically, feigning enthusiasm.
"Glad they have great seniors like you and Detective Seo," Jeonghan praised, and you graciously accepted the compliment. Memories of the old days filled your thoughts. "You know how hard it was for us, and we used to miss having a nice senior," you reminisced, a longing for a mentor figure evident in your voice.
Jeonghan nodded, understanding your concerns. "We're getting older, and they're the people we'll rely on in the future, right? Investing your time to give them the best guidance is what everyone needs in the team."
You released your third sigh, a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. "Want to switch and become our leader instead?" You asked him, adding a touch of humor to the conversation.
As you continued to chat with Jeonghan, you couldn't help but appreciate the support and camaraderie you had in the police department. In this demanding profession, having friends like Jeonghan who understood the challenges was a true blessing.
A sudden, ring interrupted your conversation with Jeonghan. You glanced at your phone, recognizing the caller as Hyunjin. You swiftly answered, only to be met with urgent words.
"Park Jiheon is on his way to the ferry. He's about to run away," Hyunjin urgently informed you.
Your heart raced as you realized the gravity of the situation. You knew you had to act swiftly. "I need to go," you said to Jeonghan, abandoning your half-empty cup of coffee and tossing it into the nearby bin.
Without hesitation, Jeonghan offered his assistance. "I'll drive you. My car is right there," he said, grabbing your arm and guiding you toward his waiting vehicle.
You both sprinted to his car, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you realized the urgency of the situation. Jeonghan's car roared to life, and you sped off toward the location given by the dispatcher. The tension in the car was palpable, and Jeonghan glanced at you, concern etched across his face.
"Do you need assistance from my team?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
You hesitated for a moment, contemplating the offer. The image of Captain Jeon's stern face flashed before your eyes, and you realized that accepting without his consent could have dire consequences. "Thank you, Jeonghan, but I'll handle this on my own for now," you replied, your voice resolute, though a trace of worry lingered.
As you arrived at the location with your younger team members, you quickly assessed the situation. Captain Jeon and Detective Seo were chasing Park Jiheon, who was on the run. You signaled to your team members to pursue them while you and Jeonghan took a different route.
Your heart pounded as you sprinted through the labyrinthine streets, determined to catch Park Jiheon. Finally, you spotted him ahead and made a split-second decision. You lunged forward, delivering a powerful flying kick that sent Park Jiheon sprawling to the ground.
With Park Jiheon incapacitated, you moved in to handcuff him. But before you could complete the arrest, chaos erupted. Out of nowhere, a group of 15 to 20 people swarmed your location, and in their midst was Seungkwan, held at gunpoint with a weapon pressed against his temple.
Panic surged through you, but you maintained your composure. You signaled to Jeonghan to call for backup from the station. As you surveyed the situation, you noticed something peculiar about these individuals. They didn't appear to be Park Jiheon's associates. Their attire was rugged, and their physical appearance suggested they were not accustomed to this kind of operation.
Captain Wonwoo took advantage of the moment, taunting Park Jiheon. However, the response from the group was lackluster and unconvincing. Your profiler's intuition kicked in, and you leaned toward the possibility that they were hired to intimidate the police rather than being genuinely affiliated with Park Jiheon.
Your attention then shifted to Seungkwan, who was struggling against his captor. He subtly shook his head, signaling that the situation wasn't what it seemed. You studied the way the man held the gun, realizing he appeared inexperienced, possibly handling a firearm for the first time or even using a fake one.
You exchanged a knowing glance with Seungkwan and gave him a subtle nod. In a sudden and decisive move, Seungkwan expertly flipped his captor, setting off a chain reaction as the rest of your team members sprang into action.
It was clear that Seungkwan's judo skills had shifted the tide in your favor. The brawl that ensued was intense, but with teamwork and skill, your team managed to overpower the intruders, disarming them and securing the situation.
*
"From their alibi, we've learned that they were instructed by phone to assist Park Jiheon in escaping. There's a possibility that Park Jiheon is in possession of something significant, which is why they're helping him. It would have been more logical for them to allow him to be captured without directly involving themselves, but that's not the case," Captain Jeon briefed all the team members, addressing the perplexing situation.
"We should listen to Park Jiheon's alibi and try to determine who he's working for," Detective Seo suggested.
Captain Jeon concurred with a solemn nod. "Hansol, search for any unusual transactions in his bank account. Hyunjin, analyze his phone and report anything that could support our case. Detective Seo, can you and Seungkwan investigate his alibi by tonight?" The rest of the team acknowledged their assignments with swift nods of understanding.
Finally, Captain Jeon's gaze shifted to you, his expression unwavering. "Detective Ji, you'll come with me."
Captain Jeon drove you to the scene where the victim had been discovered, a tranquil lake nestled near a manufacturing village. The waters mirrored the somber atmosphere that had descended upon your team as you delved deeper into this enigmatic case.
As you gazed out at the serene landscape, Captain Jeon suddenly broke the silence with a probing question. "Have you checked Park Jiheon's background, Y/n?" His eyes flickered with a mix of determination and curiosity.
You nodded, recalling the details you had unearthed. "He used to be a murder suspect in the case of his own wife. However, we couldn't gather enough evidence, and it remained a cold case," you recounted, the memories of that unsolved mystery resurfacing.
Captain Jeon's expression remained stern as he continued to enlighten you. "He also had a significant amount of debt due to gambling. It's plausible that he was promised a huge mount of money to handle this murder," he added, providing crucial insight into Park Jiheon's motivations.
The puzzle deepened with the revelation that Park Jiheon had resurfaced as a suspect in a different murder, using a completely distinct modus operandi. It was a risky move for someone who wanted to evade capture, signaling a complexity to this case that you couldn't ignore.
"We need to uncover the truth behind his wife's case first," you asserted, your voice resolute. Captain Jeon nodded in agreement. "By doing that, we might gain a clearer perspective on whether someone else is orchestrating these crimes."
After hours of intense interrogation, you and your team finally obtained the crucial information you needed to confirm the unthinkable. Park Jiheon, the man who had initially been a mere suspect, was indeed the murderer of the victim found in the tranquil lake. The weight of this revelation hung heavy in the room, casting a chilling silence over the investigators.
Park Jiheon's demeanor during the questioning had been unnerving, to say the least. He remained stoically silent when confronted with the damning message found on his phone, a message that connected him to unknown individuals and hinted at a web of intrigue and danger. He seemed resolute, unwilling to divulge any information about the people he had been working for or the sinister motives behind this gruesome act.
As the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, Park Jiheon's status transitioned from that of a mere suspect to a perpetrator. But amidst this grim revelation, your team decided to delve even deeper into the darkness surrounding Park Jiheon. A collective decision was made to reopen the long-forgotten cold case of Park Jiheon's wife, whose mysterious disappearance had remained unsolved for far too long. With determination burning in your eyes, you prepared to submit a letter of request, seeking permission to pursue this case further.
In the dimly lit room, the conversation took a tense turn. It was just the two of you now, the late-night shift casting long shadows across the cluttered desks. Hansol had left to grab a late-night snack, leaving you and Jeon Wonwoo alone in the midst of your work.
Wonwoo's unexpected question about your father caught you off guard, causing you to stop piling the papers in front of you. You turned to face him, your expression guarded as you replied, "I don't discuss personal matters at work, sunbae," and then resumed your tasks, a clear indication that the topic was off-limits.
But Jeon Wonwoo persisted, his words needling at your patience. "I'm sorry, the last thing I remember about you is how your father kept meddling in our cases," he remarked, his tone deliberate, seemingly designed to provoke a reaction.
You tried to maintain your composure, offering a strained smile. Your folded arms betrayed the annoyance simmering beneath the surface as you replied, "I'm not sure what you're getting at, Captain Jeon."
Wonwoo's gaze remained fixed on you as he continued, "Didn't you secure your position because of him?" His eyes drifted to your rank insignia, displaying your status as a Detective 3.
Your response was curt, laced with a hint of defensiveness, "That's a bold accusation to make without any proof, coming from a fellow police officer."
Jeon Wonwoo's smile widened at your reaction, a wry glint in his eyes. "Your father may not be a commissioner anymore, Y/n," he remarked, his tone calm and measured, "but perhaps it's time for you to learn to push your arrogance aside."
The unspoken tension lingered in the room, an invisible barrier dividing the two of you. The room seemed to grow even smaller, suffused with an uncomfortable energy that crackled between you and Jeon Wonwoo. Memories of the past weighed heavily in the air. There was a time when the two of you had been on the same team, working closely together when your father held a powerful position as a commissioner. Back then, it had been a different dynamic, one filled with camaraderie and shared goals. But now, the dynamics had shifted, and the connection you once had seemed to have fractured. Wonwoo's rise through the ranks had come without the same influential backing that had been bestowed upon you, and it was clear that it had left a bitter taste.
"Sunbae, i can't find your hotteok at this hour."
Eventually, Hansol returned with a selection of snacks, not hotteok, but an assortment of tteokbokki and others. The three of you gathered around a small table in the corner of the room, creating a makeshift late-night snack feast. As you opened the bags and unwrapped the sweets, a sense of camaraderie began to replace the earlier tension.
Hansol broke the ice with a wry grin. "Well, it seems hotteok will have to wait until tomorrow, unless one of you wants to go on a culinary adventure across town."
You chuckled, grabbing a handful of honey butter chip. "Maybe next time, Hansol."
Jeon Wonwoo joined in, taking a candy bar. "So, Y/n, you mentioned something about a similar case to Park Jiheon's earlier."
You nodded, your professional instincts kicking in. "Yes, it was just a hunch, but there have been a few cases lately with peculiar patterns. Unsolved murders where the victims seemed connected to some shadowy underworld. It reminded me of Park Jiheon's situation."
Hansol leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "Do you think there might be a bigger organization involved?"
You shrugged, sipping on a can of soda. "It's hard to say, but it's worth looking into. If there's any chance of finding a lead in those cases, we should pursue it."
Jeon Wonwoo nodded in agreement. "Agreed. We can start by gathering all available information on those cases and see if any common threads emerge."
As you meticulously analyzed the cases with the help of Hansol and the gathered information from the other detectives, a pattern began to emerge, one that sent shivers down your spine. It became evident that the perpetrators in these unsolved cases had a disturbing modus operandi—they all disposed of their victims by throwing them into bodies of water, whether it be a lake, river, or a well.
With the pieces of the puzzle finally coming together, you gathered your findings and presented them to the team. "I've compiled the profiles of the victims, their sequence, and the techniques used," you began, your voice carrying a sense of urgency. "And here's something intriguing. The common thread we've been missing is the connection between the victims and the perpetrators."
Wonwoo leaned in, his eyes fixed on the information you had laid out. "So, what did you find?"
You pointed to a name on the list. "Jang Junghyuk, a producer of JJ Label. All of the victims had a shared history—they were once trainees under this man, including Park Jiheon's victim, Kang Hye-jin."
As you and Hansol delved further into the details of the interconnected cases, you couldn't help but notice the distracted look in Jeon Wonwoo's eyes. It was as if something from the past had momentarily pulled him away from the present investigation.
You followed his gaze to a photo on the table, one of the victims from a case that had been solved a decade ago. The weight of that past experience seemed to resurface, causing him to shake his head in an attempt to regain his focus. His mind appeared to be grappling with a multitude of emotions and memories.
Respecting his need to collect himself, you continued to explain the intricate connections between the cases, hoping that the newly uncovered lead would provide a breakthrough in solving these mysteries. The room remained silent, save for the sound of your voice and the rustling of papers, as you pressed forward, determined to uncover the truth that had eluded you for far too long.
Jeon Wonwoo, despite his momentary distraction, remained an integral part of the team. You knew that he, too, was committed to resolving these cases, even as the past continued to cast its long shadow over your shared journey into the darkness of these interconnected mysteries.
CASE 140220U3075
Name of Victim: Jeon Wonhee
Sex: Female
Age: 24th
Cause of Death: Knife stabbing (3 stabs founded)
Location of Found: South Edge of Han River
*
Jeon Wonwoo's illustrious career as a detective had spanned an impressive 16 years. Throughout this time, he had weathered the storms of countless cases, each with its own unique challenges and intricacies. Victories had been sweet, but losses had weighed heavily on his conscience. Yet, through it all, his unwavering dedication to his work remained a steadfast pillar in his life. Over the years, Wonwoo had delved into the darkest corners of humanity, peeling back layers of deception, uncovering secrets, and delivering justice to those who deserved it. He had earned a well-deserved reputation as a relentless and principled investigator, a badge of honor he wore with humility. However, a tragic turn of events shook the very foundation of his life. Something terrible had happened to his family, specifically to his younger sister.
It was a case that hit too close to home, and Wonwoo was determined to uncover the truth behind the tragedy. His beloved sister had fallen victim to a crime that remained unsolved, haunting him like a persistent ghost. Every lead he had chased, every dead end he had hit, it all led to an agonizing dead halt. Wonwoo's pursuit of justice now took a deeply personal turn as he yearned to find the answers that had eluded him for too long.
Just as he was on the cusp of a breakthrough in his sister's case, a new commissioner took office, bringing with him a tide of changes. Wonwoo's hopes for progress were abruptly dashed as the new commissioner seemed more interested in reshaping the department and prioritizing high-profile cases.
To further compound his frustration, you were placed on his team, a move that had been orchestrated by your influential father. Your reckless actions in the past had caused his team to fail in securing critical evidence, forcing a case to come to an abrupt halt. The wounds from that failure still festered within him, and your presence served as a constant reminder of the past misstep.
Despite the strained dynamic between you and Wonwoo, the team needed to function cohesively, especially as you were all now facing an intricate and interconnected series of cases. The past weighed heavily on his shoulders, and the determination to find justice for his sister fueled his every move.
"You good, bro?" Kim Mingyu, Wonwoo's best friend since their days at the enforcement school, had an uncanny knack for disrupting his moments of solitude. A cold soda can made a sudden appearance, gently tapping against Wonwoo's cheek as Mingyu couldn't resist interrupting his quality "me time."
Wonwoo accepted the offering, his curiosity piqued. "What are you doing here?" he asked, standing in the bustling center of the police station.
Mingyu settled beside him, still in his prosecutor's suit. "Just met Detective Ji," he replied casually, "and she asked me to get involved in your case."
Wonwoo's brows furrowed at the mention of Ji Y/n. "Ji Y/n?" He repeated, disbelief evident in his voice.
"Hm.. Your team mate. Can't believe you guys will meet again after... What? 7 years? Fate," Mingyu added with a teasing tone, a chuckle escaping his lips as he reminisced about the considerable amount of tension that once existed between Wonwoo and you. The memories of your past interactions seemed to resurface, casting a shadow over the present moment. Wonwoo couldn't help but recall the moments when he and you had crossed paths, and his less-than-friendly demeanor had made a lasting impression. Now, fate had brought you back into his life, and he couldn't help but wonder how this unexpected reunion would impact the ongoing investigations and the unresolved tensions between you both.
Mingyu's advice hung heavy in the air as he mentioned the connection between Wonhee's case and the ongoing investigation. The weight of the unsolved mystery surrounding his sister had always loomed over Wonwoo's life, and now, it seemed to be intertwined with these new complexities.
"I read the report. I saw Wonhee's case is potentially related to this case," Mingyu remarked, his voice carrying a mix of concern and caution. "I don't want to say this, but I hope you don't let your emotions get the best of you."
Wonwoo let out a weary sigh, his conflicted feelings evident in the furrow of his brow. He knew he had to maintain control over his emotions, but it wasn't as simple as flicking a switch. The anguish and determination that came with his sister's case were a part of him, deeply ingrained and impossible to ignore.
The memories of how his emotions had cost him dearly in the past haunted Wonwoo. He had seen firsthand the devastating consequences of letting his feelings take control. Each time it had happened, the toll had been immeasurable.
The loss of crucial evidence in Wonhee's case was a wound that still festered. His unchecked emotions had clouded his judgment, causing him to overlook a vital piece of information that might have brought him closer to the truth.
A failed relationship, too, had crumbled under the weight of his obsession with a case. He had become so engrossed in his work that he had neglected the person who cared about him the most, ultimately driving her away.
And then there was the painful memory of a junior colleague who had paid the price for Wonwoo's oversensitivity. In the relentless pursuit of justice, Wonwoo had pushed his junior too hard, leading to their tragic exit from the team.
As he faced yet another complex case, Wonwoo was acutely aware of the delicate balance he had to strike between his unwavering dedication to his work and the emotions that could, if left unchecked, unravel everything he held dear. The scars from his past mistakes served as a constant reminder of the high stakes and the unforgiving nature of the world he operated in.
"I might like you," he remembers finally admitted to you, his voice carrying a mixture of vulnerability and longing. Two years of mentoring you, observing your determination and charm, had led him to develop deep feelings. It was a rare and treacherous journey for him, his heart having been closed off for so long, and you represented a profound shift in his life.
However, their professional lives demanded immediate attention as news of the suspect's location spread. The team was thrust into a frenzy of activity, each member focused on pursuing the elusive Yoo Taesung, a critical figure in Jeon Wonhee's tragic murder.
As the case unfolded, a recklessness that had caused trouble in the past resurfaced. The DNA test results for the knife, a pivotal piece of evidence, went missing, leaving the team in disarray. Accusations flew, and the responsibility ultimately fell on you, as you had been the one to handle the test results.
"I swear it was him. I read it," you insisted, a note of desperation in your voice, believing that you had indeed read the results before they mysteriously vanished.
Wonwoo's patience wore thin, and he demanded answers. "Then where's the real one?"
"I don't know," was your painful admission.
The room fell into a stifling silence, and it was clear that the tension had reached its breaking point. Choi Seungcheol, their team leader, attempted to defuse the situation, but the damage was already done.
"This is what would happen if you keep doing everything on your own!" Wonwoo's accusation had cut deep, his frustration evident as he chastised your recklessness. It was a reminder of the times when your determination had veered into stubbornness, endangering not only the cases but also the trust of your colleagues.
"With that head of yours, how could you be a good detective in the future?" His words had left a bitter taste, a searing challenge to your abilities and a stark reminder of the expectations that weighed heavily upon you.
As the silence settled in the room, the gravity of the situation weighed on everyone. The echoes of Wonwoo's anger served as a stark reminder of the fragile line between personal emotions and the relentless pursuit of justice, leaving you to contemplate the impact of your actions on both your career and the relationships you held dear.
"Just because your father is a Commissioner," Wonwoo's voice trembled with frustration, "doesn't mean you can do everything as you wish. Everyone is working hard, and you—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Wonwoo abruptly turned and stormed out of the room. The door slammed shut with a resounding finality, leaving behind a team stunned into silence. The weight of the unresolved confrontation hung in the air, a stark reminder of the tension that had been building for too long. The team members exchanged uneasy glances, grappling with the aftermath of the emotional exchange. The impact of Wonwoo's harsh words and the abrupt departure left a lingering unease that seemed to settle like a heavy fog in the room.
The deafening silence that followed Wonwoo's departure marked the end of an era, the culmination of a turbulent journey that had been punctuated by a series of professional and personal conflicts. It was a stark reminder of how their last conversation had severed the fragile thread that had once connected you both as colleagues. In the weeks that followed, you were reassigned to your current team, leaving behind Wonwoo and team, deepening to wound on Wonwoo's heart. Meanwhile, Wonwoo's determination to find answers for his sister's case had not wavered. He personally requested further investigation, fueled by his unwavering commitment to uncovering the truth. However, his efforts faced a daunting obstacle in the form of Jung Minhyuk, the Chief Inspector. Minhyuk rejected Wonwoo's request, delivering the devastating news that Commissioner Ji had explicitly requested that the case not be continued. The reasoning was that pursuing the case further could tarnish the reputation of the police force if the public were to learn of the details. This rejection served as a bitter blow to Wonwoo, and it felt as though justice had been sacrificed for the sake of public image. The frustration and helplessness he felt were profound, and it became increasingly clear that the path to closure for his sister's case was fraught with obstacles and resistance from those in positions of power.
A month of tireless dedication and unwavering commitment under Wonwoo's steadfast direction has yielded remarkable results for your team. You've risen through the ranks, progressing from the lowly 10th position in the Criminal and Violence Division to a commendable 6th place.
The transformation is a testament to the collective effort and resilience of your team, as you relentlessly pursue justice, unravel complex cases, and maintain an unyielding commitment to your work. Wonwoo's leadership has played a pivotal role in your ascent, guiding your team through challenges and inspiring your team to excel.
The anticipation in the air was palpable as the team dinner that Wonwoo had promised to everyone days ago finally approached. In the midst of their busy lives, these moments of camaraderie were cherished, offering a respite from the relentless demands of their work.
As time flew by, a somber cloud hung over the team as they grappled with the shocking news of Park Jiheon's sentencing to 30 years in prison. The evidence had revealed his involvement in the murder not only of Kang Hyejin but also of his own wife years ago.
Their resilient team leader, Jeon Wonwoo, remained resolute in his determination to guide Unit 8th toward leading the Criminal and Violence Divisions in the future. With unwavering support from his team members, they had earned the trust of the Chief Inspector, resulting in an influx of challenging cases. However, one mystery still eluded them: the connection between Kang Hyejin and other victims linked to JJ Label. Jang Junghyuk, the enigmatic producer of the label, found himself under the team's scrutiny, but his alibi remained airtight, frustrating their efforts.
"Cheers!" echoed throughout the bustling samgyeopsal restaurant, as the members of your group raised their glasses in unison. The warm glow of camaraderie filled the air as you all sat together, indulging in delicious food and drink. The hours passed by in a blur of laughter and stories.
In this lively setting, your attention was drawn to Wonwoo, who sat directly in front of you. With a bottle of soju in hand, he took charge of pouring his own drink, while a mischievous smile danced on his lips. You couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie and gratitude as you reached for the bottle and poured a generous serving into his glass. He met your gaze with a look of appreciation, a silent acknowledgment of your gesture, before savoring the drink.
Suddenly, a vivid memory from the past rushed into your consciousness. It was a memory of you and Wonwoo during your early days, back when he had been your mentor. He had been a strict senior, pushing you to excel, but he never failed to show appreciation whenever you achieved something remarkable. Your mind wandered back to your very first team dinner, held in this very same restaurant. You had been celebrating the successful resolution of a case involving the dismantling of a human trafficking ring, masterminded by Yang Saeguk after he had finally found his purpose in life, a life sentence.
The striking difference was that, during that memorable dinner, Wonwoo had sat right beside you. He had been your shield, protecting you from the senior members who had attempted to get you intoxicated that evening. It was a gesture that had spoken volumes about the bond between you and the unspoken trust that had grown over the months.
As the conversation inside the restaurant continued, Lieutenant Choi, the team leader, held everyone's attention. It was in this moment that Wonwoo leaned in and whispered softly to you, suggesting a break to enjoy some fresh air.
"You want to go outside?" He asked.
You both slipped out of the bustling restaurant and embarked on a quiet walk nearby.
Under the serene night sky, Wonwoo began to ask you about your personal life, and during the course of the conversation, a revelation slipped out: you were the daughter of Ji Namhyuk, the Commissioner of the department. You tried to convey that you had earned your position through your own hard work, but you couldn't deny the fact that your father's influence might have played a role.
Wonwoo, opening up in return, shared that he had a sister your age. He admitted that every time he looked at you, you reminded him of his sister, which had made it easy for him to form a close bond with you.
He continued, his voice laced with sincerity, "But you have your own charms. You're a quick thinker, a great negotiator, and a potential profiler." His words held a warmth that reassured you, giving you a renewed sense of confidence.
"You want to go outside?" A very same question was asked again. But now in present.
Taking a deep breath, you tried to push aside the overwhelming emotions stirred by this conversation. Wonwoo had once been a respected sunbae (senior) and had managed to break down the walls of reserve you had initially held. As you walked together under the night sky, you couldn't help but appreciate the unique connection that had grown between you two, and it was all gone years ago.
As you and Wonwoo stepped outside the restaurant for that impromptu walk, a mixture of emotions swirled within you. It had been a long time since you had seen each other, and now, fate had brought you back together on the same team. The bond you once shared as mentor and mentee had the potential to grow stronger in this new chapter of your professional lives.
Amidst the soft glow of streetlights, Wonwoo couldn't help but let his curiosity get the best of him. He smiled warmly at you and asked a familiar question, one that he had often posed when you were just a rookie. "How's your progress, Y/n?" His tone held a sense of genuine interest and encouragement.
You couldn't help but smile in response, feeling the familiarity of the moment wash over you. "I've been learning a lot and working hard. Thanks to your guidance back in the past, Sunbae." you replied, your voice reflecting the dedication that had brought you to this point and genuine grateful to him.
Wonwoo's curiosity extended to the rest of the team. "What do you think about Detective Seo?" he inquired, referring to one of your senior colleagues. You thought for a moment and answered, "Detective Seo is a very reliable senior. His experience and knowledge have been invaluable in guiding me."
He then asked about Hansol, another member of the team. "And Hansol?" You considered Hansol's personality and replied, "Hansol is on the calmer side, but he's an astute observer. I think he has the potential to become a great profiler someday."
Next on Wonwoo's list was Seungkwan. "How about Seungkwan?" You chuckled and said, "Seungkwan is a very hardworking junior. He's also quite athletic, which makes him great company when we're out in the field."
Finally, Wonwoo turned his attention to Hyunjin, the rookie of the team. "And what's your take on Hyunjin?"
You grinned playfully, "Well, Hyunjin still has a lot to learn, but he's got a great sense of humor. I think he'll bring some much-needed laughter to the team."
Wonwoo's smile grew warmer as he listened to your answers, his pride evident in his eyes. "You're growing up a lot, Y/n. As a person and as a police officer, and I'm so proud of it."
He then pointed out something that held significant meaning in the world of law enforcement. "I had been mentoring you for two years. Look at you now; you've earned your second stripe," he remarked, referring to the symbol of your ten-year service.
You stopped in your tracks, allowing a few steps of space to form between you and Wonwoo before speaking your mind. "I'm not the same girl from eight years ago, sunbae. These kinds of words won't affect me anymore," you confidently declared, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
Wonwoo chuckled softly at your boldness, and he turned his body to continue the walk, leaving you there, flushed with a mix of shyness and nostalgia. "I know," he said over his shoulder, his voice carrying a touch of fondness. "That's why I've always liked you." His words lingered in the air, and you found yourself unable to contain your smile. In this cold night, there's a warmth that you couldn't quite put into words.
*
In the days following the team dinner, your investigative unit had set its sights on a mysterious building that had drawn attention due to reports of illicit activities. The intel suggested it was a possible hub for prostitution, but the details remained murky. A local resident had come forward, claiming to have witnessed women being forcibly taken into the building from cars, sparking your team's interest.
Seungkwan and Hansol had taken on the daring task of going undercover, posing as customers to gather crucial information from within the establishment. As they emerged from the building, their expressions were visibly perturbed, but their fellow team members couldn't help but chuckle at their less-than-convincing acting efforts.
Amid the laughter, Hansol broke the silence with a disconcerting revelation. "I don't think they're just running your typical prostitution business in there," he confessed, his tone weighed down with concern. "It seems like they're offering something more, Sunbae. Have you ever heard of 'superior IVF'?"
The mention of those words sent a chill down your spine, and you couldn't help but whisper in disbelief, "No way..." The gravity of the situation had suddenly escalated beyond what anyone had expected. This was far from a straightforward investigation.
Eager to delve deeper into this enigma, you turned your attention to Seungkwan, who handed you a business card that read "JCare." It was a pivotal lead, and your investigative instincts kicked into high gear. Determined to uncover the truth, you swiftly instructed Hyunjin to initiate a thorough background check on JCare and its key personnel.
"Is IVF means egg donor?" Wonwoo asked, his brow furrowing with concern, and you nodded in response. "I think they're not only running a prostitution business but also involved in women trafficking," he speculated.
Detective Seo, always composed and analytical, chimed in, "We need to gather more information about this business to build a solid case against them."
As your team continued discussing JCare and the mysterious activities within, a deeper and darker picture began to emerge. JCare, it appeared, was no ordinary business. It was a clandestine operation offering a range of illicit services, including prostitution, the sale of women's eggs, and illegal organ donation.
The troubling part was that information about the sources and suppliers of these services remained elusive. It posed a significant challenge to your investigation, as uncovering the origins and intricacies of JCare's operations was crucial to dismantling the entire network.
"We need to get inside their operation," Detective Seo concluded, his mind working quickly to devise a plan. "How about another undercover operation, a carefully prepared one? We could pose as a couple interested in obtaining 'superior IVF,'" he suggested.
Hyunjin and Seungkwan seemed intrigued by the idea. Seungkwan chimed in, "That way, we can gather more data about their victims. They might even show us profiles of potential egg donors," he said as he scrolled through JCare's website.
The question of who would play the undercover couple's roles hung in the air, and Detective Seo's gaze fell upon you. "No!" you protested, met with objections from Hyunjin, Seungkwan, and Senior Detective Seo Taekwang. "You're the only woman on our team, Detective Ji," Taekwang pointed out.
Hansol raised the question of who would play the husband, and you interjected with a resolute "absolutely not!" when Taekwang named was mentioned. Hyunjin supported your protest, but it led to an unexpected slap from Taekwang after he humorously reasoned that you wouldn't want to marry someone who looked like Detective Seo.
With no other options in sight, all eyes turned to Jeon Wonwoo. He had remained silent, seemingly lost in thought until he suddenly became the center of attention. Clearing his throat, he began, "We can explore alternative plans, perhaps—"
Before he could continue, Hyunjin swiftly suggested, "Captain Jeon could be the husband." The idea hung in the air for a moment, and Wonwoo blinked, clearly taken aback by the unexpected proposal. The room awaited his response, and it seemed that the team was inching closer to a risky, yet potentially crucial, operation.
*
Hyunjin couldn't help but comment on the outward appearance of you and Wonwoo, observing your attire and the aura you both exuded. "You guys do look like a rich couple," he remarked, noticing the branded items and the air of affluence that seemed to surround you. It was an essential element to make the JCare staff believe you could afford their high-end services.
Taekwang added with a mischievous grin, "Let's practice holding hands!" His suggestion was met with a protest from you. "It's not like I've never held a man's hand before," you reasoned, attempting to downplay the situation.
Taekwang chuckled, his laughter echoing in the room. "Really? You've been working so diligently to earn those two stripes and that Detective 3 badge you have. You never seem to have time for dating," he commented, a knowing look in his eyes.
His words struck a chord with you, and you couldn't help but pout, unable to deny the truth in his statement. The path you had chosen had demanded dedication and commitment, leaving little room for personal relationships. Wonwoo, as the reliable partner, gladly reached out and held your hand as you practiced the motions of a seemingly affectionate couple. He looked at you with a hint of amusement and asked, "Am I doing a good job, babe?"
A soft smile tugged at your lips, appreciating his professionalism and adaptability. "You're doing great, honey," you replied, practicing the affectionate nicknames that would help sell your cover as Mr. and Mrs. Kim.
As you and Wonwoo drove to JCare, you continued rehearsing your roles and discussing the details of your mission. Analyzing the services JCare offered, the sources of their operations, their target market, and the individuals who might be behind this dark enterprise became paramount. Hyunjin had planted listening devices on both of you to discreetly record every conversation you would have with Dr. Park Jinah, the person who would assist you once you arrived at JCare.
With each passing moment, the weight of the mission grew, but you and Wonwoo were determined to unravel the secrets behind JCare's operations. Under the guise of Mr. and Mrs. Kim, a prosperous couple seeking superior DNA for their future child, you approached your destination, ready to delve into the heart of the enigma.
Seated in the tastefully decorated room at JCare, you and Wonwoo started your act as Mr. And Mrs. Kim, portraying a wealthy couple with a fervent desire for superior genetic traits in their future child. "We're very interested in ensuring that our child has exceptional DNA," you began, your tone measured and earnest. "Both of us, Mr. Kim and I, are aware that we don't have strong intellectual genes, but we want our child to be intelligent."
Dr. Park, a picture of professionalism, nodded and smiled in response. "Many couples come to JCare with similar aspirations. We specialize in providing top-notch genetic services."
Wonwoo joined the conversation, further solidifying your cover story. "Our friends highly recommended this place. They spoke very highly of your services."
Dr. Park's satisfaction was evident, and she proceeded to share profiles of potential egg donors with you. These women came from diverse backgrounds, ranging from working professionals to college students and even a high schooler. As you perused the profiles, your heart skipped a beat when you encountered a familiar name – Kang Hyejin. She was unmistakably one of the victims in the gruesome murder case involving Park Jiheon.
Despite the shock that coursed through you, you managed to keep your composure and asked to see more details about Kang Hyejin. "Could you provide us with more information about this particular donor, Kang Hyejin?"
Dr. Park's reaction was a brief hesitation, but she eventually complied. "Ah, Kang Hyejin. She's a truly remarkable young woman. She boasts a strong educational background and excellent health."
You exchanged a knowing glance with Wonwoo as you continued to feign interest, all the while trying to suppress the dread that threatened to consume you. "We're very interested in her genetic traits," Wonwoo stated with practiced enthusiasm, hoping that his eagerness wouldn't arouse any suspicion.
However, Dr. Park's response sent a palpable chill down your spine. "I'm afraid Kang Hyejin is currently out of the country, and she won't be available for several weeks."
Your mind raced as you processed this newfound information. Kang Hyejin, the girl who had met such a tragic end, was undeniably connected to JCare. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on both you and Wonwoo, and in that fleeting moment of silence, you silently acknowledged that this case had taken a much darker and more ominous turn.
The entire 8th unit stood in stunned disbelief as they traced the red line, connecting the dots of a horrifying revelation. A shiver ran down your spine, the chilling truth finally coming to light. The evidence pointed to a sinister connection between the deceased JJ Label trainees and JCare, both ensnared in a web of exploitation and deception.
The breakthrough came through an exhaustive joint investigation with journalist Park Hyebin, who had met Kang Hyejin mere days before her tragic demise in the lake. It unraveled a harrowing tale of coercion and manipulation, revealing how girls from the label were coerced into serving the interests of the Jung Group, a business empire presided over by the affluent and influential Jung Seokpa.
The promises of a debut were nothing more than a cruel facade, a hollow enticement used to ensnare these young women. Instead of stepping into the spotlight, they vanished, conveniently reported as being 'out of the country,' leaving their dreams shattered.
The involvement of Jung Jaehyung, the heir of the Jung legacy, along with his cousins, Jung Junghyuk and Yoo Taesuk, added a grim dimension to the case. The revelation that Park Jiheon, Yang Jerry, and Kim Bomjae were the perpetrators sent shockwaves through the unit.
"We've discovered that Jung Jaehyung had a history of being hospitalized, a near-drowning incident in the water. Subsequently, the family doctor identified sociopathic traits in Jaehyung," you relayed, your voice tinged with a mix of sorrow and apprehension. The depth of the darkness surrounding this case was beyond comprehension. All make sense on why every victim was founded near the bodies of water.
Meanwhile, Jeon Wonwoo, their team leader, abruptly left the room, leaving the rest of the team in a state of confusion as they diligently worked on their reports, seeking pursuit permission. You gave a subtle signal for them to continue while you decided to go after him.
A short walk led you to the station's back yard, where you found Wonwoo seated, his head bowed and shoulders trembling with emotion. You stood a few feet behind him, allowing him his moment of privacy. The distance between you two made it seem as though you were invisible to him. You watched as he released his pent-up feelings, allowing the weight on his shoulders to be carried by the solitude.
Once he composed himself, you approached him silently. His glasses, dropped and forgotten in the turmoil of his emotions, rested on the ground. You gently picked them up, careful not to disrupt his fragile state. As you handed him his glasses, he turned to you, surprise evident in his eyes. He quickly wiped away any lingering tears, attempting to regain his composure.
Wonwoo's gaze held a mix of surprise and gratitude as he took back his glasses. "What brings you here?" he inquired, his voice carrying a note of curiosity.
You remained silent for a moment, simply looking at him, feeling the weight of the moment. Finally, you took a seat beside him, the gravity of the conversation settling between you. "Sunbae," you began, your tone gentle yet serious, "I need to tell you about Jeon Wonhee."
His brow furrowed in slight confusion, clearly not expecting this topic. He listened attentively as you explained that you found out Jeon Wonhee was his sister as you have worked on the case. "Her situation was different," you continued, your voice steady. "She was in a relationship with Yoo Taesuk, but she discovered he was cheating on her. When she confronted him, it escalated, and she was stabbed by Taesuk. That's why she was the only one found with stab wounds, while the others were drowned."
Wonwoo's expression shifted, a mix of relief and sorrow crossing his features. It was a heavy revelation, finally uncovering the truth about his sister's tragic fate. "Thank you for telling me," he said sincerely. "I've been searching for answers for so long."
He sighed, a hint of disappointment tinging his voice. "Losing the evidence against Taesuk all those years ago... it's been a weight on my shoulders. Why did it have to take eight years to finally find the person responsible?"
You could sense the frustration and regret in his words, understanding the long and difficult journey he had been on to seek justice for his sister. As you revealed the truth about the lost evidence from eight years ago, a palpable guilt settled within you. You couldn't shake the weight of being one of the reasons why justice had been delayed for so long. Taking a deep breath, you turned to Wonwoo, your expression filled with remorse.
"Sunbae," you began, your voice tinged with regret. "When i was the one assigned to find the knife that was used to kill Jeon Wonhee, i worked tirelessly. Eventually, I tracked it down to a knife seller near the river. He claimed to have a knife with blood on it and had been holding onto it, just in case."
You continued, the weight of the memory pressing on you. "I sent it to the forensic lab, and I was certain we had the evidence we needed. Yoo Taesuk's fingerprints and DNA were a match, 100%. But then... it disappeared. The forensic team wouldn't give me another copy of the results, citing orders from my father."
Wonwoo's eyes was filled with emotions. "Your father... Ji Commissioner, he ordered us to stop the investigation." he murmured, putting the pieces together. He looked at you, his expression a mix of anger and inquiry. "You couldn't confront him.." He said.
You nodded, your gaze fixed on the ground. "Yes. I haven't had any communication with him for almost eight years, ever since I was transferred out of the team." You paused, steeling yourself for what you needed to say next. "But, since then i began to suspect that there might be a connection between Yoo Taesuk and my father. I couldn't shake the feeling that my own father may have been involved in covering up the truth."
Wonwoo's shock was evident, his eyes wide with realization. He had assumed you were in cahoots with your father, but now he found out the depth of your conflict.
Wonwoo's eyes were filled with a mix of curiosity and concern as he asked, "Why haven't you talked to your father in all these years?"
A surge of emotions welled up within you, making it difficult to find the right words. Finally, you spoke, your voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and vulnerability. "I... I've been afraid. Afraid that if I confront my father, if I find out that he's truly involved in hiding a crime... it would shatter everything I know. The idea of facing that reality... it terrifies me."
You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. "I couldn't bear the thought of my own father, someone I should be able to trust, being capable of such a thing. It's been easier to keep my distance, to try to find the truth on my own."
Wonwoo's expression softened, his understanding gaze meeting yours. "I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you," he said gently.
There was a brief pause, the weight of the moment settling around you both, before Wonwoo finally spoke again. His voice was gentle, laced with a sincerity that touched your heart. "Y/n, I need to apologize. I've been emotional and oversensitive in the past, especially when it came to this case. I realize now that my actions and words may have left a bad impression of me, and for that, I'm truly sorry."
He took a deep breath, his eyes focused on the ground, as if gathering his thoughts. "Losing a chance to bring the person who took my sister's life to justice... it's been a constant ache in my heart. It felt so unfair, just because she wasn't someone with power, and I wasn't either. It's haunted me for years."
He turned to you, his gaze sincere and vulnerable. "The things I said to you that day... I regret them. I was being childish and emotional. It's a flaw of mine, how my feelings can often lead me to overreact. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, Y/n."
His apology hung in the air, filled with a raw honesty that resonated deeply. The weight of past grievances seemed to lift. As the night enveloped you both, a sense of quiet understanding settled in the air. The moon cast a gentle glow, illuminating the world with a soft, silvery light. The atmosphere was hushed, as if nature itself was holding its breath, allowing this moment of reconciliation to unfold. There was an unspoken connection between you and Wonwoo, forged through years of shared pain and the pursuit of justice. The weight of past misunderstandings and hurts seemed to dissipate, replaced by a newfound sense of empathy and compassion. The night seemed to hold a certain kind of magic, a bittersweet beauty that whispered of healing and redemption.
You spoke gently, your words carrying the weight of your own experiences. "I felt unfair, but I understand now. I would do the same if something like that happened to my family." The sincerity in your voice resonated in the stillness of the night.
You looked at him and smiled, "i forgive you."
Wonwoo listened, his gaze fixed on you. There was a vulnerability in his expression, a raw openness that he rarely showed. The air seemed to crackle with a subtle electricity, as if the universe itself acknowledged the significance of this moment.
Then, he returned the smile, his eyes filled with gratitude and a touch of relief. "Thank you, Y/n. I can't tell you how much your forgiveness means to me."
As you looked at each other, bathed in the moonlight, there was a silent acknowledgment of the shared journey you had embarked upon. The night held a sense of possibility, a promise of closure.
Wonwoo's hand hesitated for a moment, before gently finding its place in yours. His palm met yours, fingers intertwining, a silent promise conveyed through the touch. "Let's do this together," he said, his voice steady yet filled with emotion, "Let's find out the truth together."
A warm rush of gratitude and determination washed over you, radiating from your clasped hands. You met his gaze, a smile blooming on your lips, carrying the weight of shared purpose.
In that moment, beneath the gentle night sky, a bond was solidified. It was a promise of solidarity, a pledge to seek justice, and a testament to the strength that could be found in unity.
The two of you instinctively leaned in, embracing one another. It was a hug that held layers of meaning—support, comfort, and a shared resolve to face the challenges ahead. In that moment, beneath the quiet expanse of the night sky, you both found solace in the understanding that you were no longer alone in your pursuit of truth.
*
You found yourself standing in front of your parents' house, a place you hadn't set foot in for eight long years. The maid, a familiar face from your past, was visibly shaken by your sudden appearance. The story of your abrupt departure and vow never to return had become something of legend in this household, and your unexpected visit sent ripples of surprise through its walls.
Stepping through the threshold, you were met with the scent of familiar surroundings and the echoes of distant memories. Your mother, equally taken aback by your presence, greeted you with a mix of astonishment and concern.
"I need to meet Dad," you stated, your tone tinged with a simmering anger. She moved to invite you to sit and talk, a motherly instinct to understand, but you refused. "It's work related," you added, choosing your words carefully. You hinted at your father's potential candidacy for the position of national commissioner, a piece of information that carried weight in this household.
The tension in the air was palpable, a silent undercurrent beneath the surface. Your mother, caught between concern for your well-being and the gravity of the situation, nodded in reluctant understanding. There was a complex history between you, your father, and this house, one that had remained unresolved for far too long.
As you prepared to face the man who held such influence in your life, you couldn't help but feel the weight of the past pressing upon you.
You entered his office, the familiar scent of polished wood and papers filling the air. His eyes flicked up from the document he was studying, momentarily surprised at your presence. You saluted him, a formal gesture that seemed incongruous in the face of your own father.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, masking any deeper emotions he might be feeling. "I'm not the National Commissioner yet," he joked, attempting to lighten the mood. His surprise was thinly veiled, but he quickly regained his composure.
Without much preamble, you handed him the report you had painstakingly prepared. It was a straightforward account, outlining the relationship between your father, the owner of Jung Group, and their support for him. It also contained evidence of his involvement in tampering with a murder case.
"Where did you get this? Yoon Jeonghan himself?" he inquired, his tone grating on your nerves, as if he wasn't directly involved in the injustice that had plagued your past.
You closed your eyes, struggling to reconcile the betrayal of someone you had considered a friend, a partner in justice. Jeonghan had listened to your pain, all the while knowing the truth. It was a wound that cut deep.
"I found it on my own," you replied, your voice steady, though your heart pounded in your chest.
His smile was self-assured. "Impressive. When you mentioned wanting to follow in my footsteps as a police officer, I admit I had my doubts. But I've heard nothing but praise about your work. Perhaps you'd like to be a captain once I assume the role of National Commissioner?"
You took a deep breath, disbelief washing over you. "We're discussing a police officer who manipulated proof and let a murderer of someone else's daughter go free," you emphasized, your voice tinged with frustration. "I understand you care more about your career and social standing than your family, but have you ever considered what if it were me?"
His response was callous, focusing on the perceived greater good. "I did it for the sake of the police force's reputation and for your own position. You could have faced charges for attempting to imprison someone without evidence. I prevented that from happening. I know you've worked hard to get to where you are."
There was a weighted silence before you spoke, determination filling your voice. "It's good that you recognize my hard work. I suggest you confess your mistakes before I expose this to the public and you find yourself in handcuffs."
"Watch your tongue! You're putting yourself in danger. Jung Group is not someone you could play with," he warned.
"It was you who played with fire first. Allow me to handle the heat on my own terms, since you chose not to heed my warning," you retorted before turning on your heel and leaving the house. The weight of your decision hung in the air, a sense of finality settling over you.
As you stepped out of the house, a whirlwind of emotions swirled within you. Anger, frustration, and a simmering determination coursed through your veins. The confrontation with your father had dredged up years of pent-up resentment, and the knowledge of his betrayal stung like a fresh wound.
Yet, beneath the anger, there was a steely resolve. You had faced the truth, confronted your father, and made it clear that you would not stand idly by. The weight of the evidence you held felt both empowering and burdensome. It was a double-edged sword, a weapon that could potentially bring justice, but also a dangerous tool that could upend your own life.
As you walked away from the house, the night seemed to echo your conflicted emotions. The air was heavy with the weight of your decision, and each step felt like a declaration of independence. The streets were quiet, a stark contrast to the storm raging within you.
Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision and threatening to spill over. They were a mix of frustration, anger, and a profound sense of loss. Each tear seemed to carry the weight of years of betrayal and the realization that someone you had trusted so deeply had let you down. Your cheeks glistened with the tracks of your tears, a silent testament to the depth of your emotion. They were a raw, unfiltered expression of the pain that had been stirred up by your confrontation with your father. The ache in your chest seemed to radiate with each heart-wrenching sob, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil within you.
Your breath came in shuddering gasps, the intensity of your feelings threatening to overwhelm you. It was as if a dam had burst, releasing a torrent of pent-up emotions that had been held back for far too long. Each sob seemed to echo in the stillness of the night, a haunting melody of sorrow. In that vulnerable moment, you were both fragile and strong. The tears were a cathartic release, a necessary step in the process of healing and moving forward.
As the tears still clung to your lashes, you fumbled for your phone, fingers trembling slightly. It took a moment, but you mustered the courage to dial Wonwoo's number. There was a hesitation in your voice when he answered, a weight of emotion that seemed to choke your words.
"Sunbae," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "I... I met my father." You paused, the enormity of the situation settling heavily in your chest.
There was a brief silence on the other end, and then Wonwoo's voice, calm and steady, filled your ear. "Y/n, take your time. You don't have to explain anything you're not ready to."
But you needed to. The truth had been bottled up for too long, and it was a relief to finally have someone to share it with. You spoke of the betrayal, the shock of discovering your father's involvement, and the pain that had surged through you. You apologized several times, as if you needed to ask for forgiveness for something that was never your fault.
"I'm so sorry, Sunbae. I'm so sorry." You confessed, your voice cracking with vulnerability.
He listened patiently, offering you the space to unburden yourself. And when you were finished, he simply said, "Where are you? I'm coming to you."
You gave him your location, and within what felt like minutes, you saw his familiar figure approaching. He enveloped you in a comforting embrace, his presence a balm to your wounded soul.
"I'm proud of you, Y/n," he murmured, his voice warm and reassuring. "For being honest with me, and for facing this head-on."
In that moment, you realized that you and Wonwoo were not just partners in the field, but true allies in life's struggles. He shared his own vulnerabilities, the challenges he faced as a police officer, and the weight of responsibility he carried. It was a rare and precious connection, built on trust and understanding.
As you stood there, in the embrace of someone who truly understood, you felt a renewed sense of strength. You were not alone in this battle. With Wonwoo by your side, you knew you could face whatever challenges lay ahead.
The pace of events was dizzying, culminating in the sentencing of everyone implicated in the Jcare trafficking scheme, with Jung Jaehyung facing justice for his central role. Capturing evidence against Jaehyung had been a formidable challenge, given the immense power wielded by his influential father. The reluctance of others to testify against Jaehyung created a seemingly impenetrable fortress of silence, until Wonwoo proposed a daring undercover operation to compel Jaehyung's confession. The stakes were high, prompting contemplation of alternative plans, but you were resolute in your determination to see Jaehyung held accountable.
The mission's objective was clear: obtain a confession from Jung Jaehyung. After exhaustive brainstorming, a crucial insight emerged. It was discovered that Jaehyung had a penchant for intelligent and empathetic women—a preference borne from the shadow of his teenage years and the enigmatic figure of his psychiatrist, who had been one of his earliest victims. Jaehyung had been a prime suspect in her murder at the age of 17. Yet, he had walked free due to insufficient evidence and a well-crafted alibi from his driver, who claimed to have been with him in another city at the time of her death.
The intensity of the operation was unparalleled in your decade-long career as a police officer. The memory of Jaehyung's hands closing around your neck, the desperate struggle for breath when he discovered your true identity, remained vivid. In that raw moment, he had unwittingly revealed his involvement in the deaths of each Jcare victim.
"I just wanted them to be silent, but you know how women are, always talking. So I drowned them."
The struggle for your life was a desperate race against time, every gasp for air a fierce battle against the hands that sought to silence you. Finally breaking free from his suffocating grip, you stared into Jaehyung's eyes, terror mingling with defiance. In that charged moment, you found your voice, attempting to reach the flicker of humanity buried within his darkened soul.
"Jaehyung, I've always believed there's goodness in you," you rasped, the words a plea for him to see reason.
His response, however, was a chilling reminder of the depths to which his darkness had consumed him. The gun in his hand, its cold steel a stark contrast to the warmth of life, was pointed directly at you. Frozen in place, your gaze held his, seeking any hint of the boy he had once been.
"I always thought your mother believed in that goodness, in your capacity to love," you murmured, your voice edged with sorrow.
"You're not your father, Jaehyung. You've proven that through your own accomplishments, your own path," you continued, hoping to reach the fractured soul before you.
His bitter chuckle echoed through the room, the sound a discordant symphony of anguish and despair. "If I'm truly good, then why can't I stop this darkness within me? Why can't I stop killing?"
You spoke gently, offering a lifeline to a wounded soul. "Controlling your emotions is a monumental task, especially when they've never been validated. It's hard to be honest with yourself when your heart has been denied its truth."
"What do you feel right now, Jaehyung?" You asked gently, trying to spend time as you wait your team to come.
With a voice laced with turmoil, Jaehyung confessed, "I'm angry. Furious that you've lied to me. My heart is pounding, urging me to end you, to submerge you in the very bathtub just steps away."
A pregnant pause followed, your senses on high alert. "Is that what you truly want? To extinguish a life, to silence a heart forever? Will it bring you the peace you seek, or will it only leave you with a void stained by regret?"
"Fuck!" He roared, the anguish in his voice echoing through the room. The gun drew nearer, its cold gaze unwavering. "No one comprehends the exhilaration, the release that comes with snuffing out their last breath. Don't presume to understand."
In the haunting seconds that followed, the echo of a gunshot shattered the stillness, followed by the searing pain of a bullet tearing through your body. Darkness claimed your senses, the world fading away as the abyss welcomed you.
*
The chaos and urgency gripped the team as they raced towards your location, their senses heightened by the gravity of the situation. Wonwoo's heart pounded in his chest, anxiety clawing at him, as he navigated through the frenzied traffic. He had overheard your conversation with Jaehyung, having planted a listening device during your previous therapy session. The decision to let you confront Jaehyung alone had been met with his vehement opposition, sensing the peril in allowing you to face a man with such a dark history on your own.
As Hyunjin relayed the news of the escalating danger, Wonwoo's heart sank. Time was slipping away, urging him to move faster. Arriving at the building, he displayed his credentials to the security team, urgency etched on his face. With swift precision, he directed his team to position themselves, preparing for the confrontation ahead.
Then, a call from Hyunjin shattered the air, carrying with it the weight of your peril. Wonwoo's heart seized in his chest, the dread threatening to engulf him. "Captain! We need to capture Jung Jaehyung. Y/n sunbae was being shot by a gun."
Without hesitation, Wonwoo and his team stormed into the office, the deafening silence broken only by the pounding of their footsteps. A gunshot rang out, the sound cutting through the tension, followed by Jaehyung's pained groan. He was swiftly subdued, the handcuffs securing his hands.
Wonwoo's eyes met Jaehyung's, a mixture of fury and anguish. He could see the blood staining Jaehyung's trembling hands, a cruel testament to the violence that had unfolded. But his focus swiftly shifted as Hansol provided the crucial information about your location.
With a fierce determination, Wonwoo sprinted towards the bathroom, his breath ragged. The sight that met him was a cruel tableau of despair. Your body lay in the bathtub, water lapping at your still form, a gunshot wound marring your shoulder.
"Call the medic!" Wonwoo instructed Hansol as Hansol following it, explaining the situation to the medic on the phone.
Acting on instinct, Wonwoo hoisted you from the water, the icy shock of it biting at him. He laid you gently on the floor, his hands moving with practiced urgency. Checking for signs of life, he could feel the icy grip of fear tightening around his heart. He wasted no time, initiating CPR and delivering rescue breaths.
"Wake up, Y/n," he pleaded, each compression a desperate plea for your return. Time seemed to blur, every second stretching into eternity as he fought to pull you back from the precipice. His focus was unyielding, his soul tethered to yours, willing you to come back to him.
The room seemed to close in around them, time stretched thin as the battle for your life raged on. Wonwoo's efforts were valiant, each compression and rescue breath delivered with a precision borne of training and desperation. Yet, your eyes remained closed, the cruel silence of unconsciousness a painful testament to the gravity of the situation.
Exhaustion clawed at Wonwoo, his breaths labored, but he pressed on, refusing to yield. Then, like a lifeline, Hansol swiftly took over, trading places with Wonwoo to continue the vital compressions. The rhythm was unbroken, a symphony of desperate hope and fierce determination.
In the midst of the struggle, a haunting memory tore through Wonwoo's mind. The loss of his junior five years ago, a wound that had never truly healed, rose to the surface. He had been so immersed in capturing the culprit that he hadn't noticed his partner, his loyal junior, succumbing to a gunshot wound, the life seeping from him as they waited for help that arrived too late.
The memory weighed heavily on Wonwoo, a haunting echo of a past he couldn't forget. In that moment, the room around him seemed to blur, the present and the past intertwining in a cruel twist of fate. He felt the weight of his responsibility, not just as a detective, but as a protector of those he cared about.
Wonwoo's voice, laced with urgency and dread, cut through the air. "Where is the medic?!" His eyes never left your form, his hand applying steady pressure to your shoulder, a desperate attempt to stem the flow of blood. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on them all.
The sounds of the room became muffled, a distant buzz in his ears as he focused on you, on the life hanging in the balance. He couldn't afford to lose you, not after everything you'd been through together. His movements became more determined, each compression a silent promise that he wouldn't let history repeat itself.
As he worked tirelessly, he couldn't help but pray silently, a plea to whatever force governed life and death. This time, he vowed, he wouldn't let the darkness claim someone he cared about. His hands moved with a fierce urgency, a silent promise to you and to himself that he would fight for your survival with every ounce of his being.
*
The sterile scent of the hospital room seemed to permeate every corner, a reminder of the seriousness of the situation. Wonwoo sat by your bedside, his gaze fixed on your still form, willing for any sign of movement.
The surgery had been a success, and the doctors had assured him that you were on the path to recovery. Yet, seeing you in this state, connected to monitors and surrounded by the hum of machines, was a stark reminder of just how close he had come to losing you.
He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor provided a steady backdrop to the quiet, a reminder that you were still here, still fighting.
Minutes felt like hours, each passing second filled with a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety. Wonwoo couldn't help but let his mind drift, his thoughts racing through the events that had led to this moment. The mission, the confrontation with Jaehyung, and the terrifying moment when he had received the call about your condition - it all seemed like a blur.
And then, finally, there was a shift. Your eyelids fluttered, a sign that consciousness was returning. Wonwoo's heart skipped a beat, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. He leaned in closer, his voice gentle and filled with relief. "Y/n, can you hear me?"
Your eyes slowly opened, and for a moment, they seemed to search the room, as if trying to make sense of where you were. Then, they settled on Wonwoo, a flicker of recognition in your gaze. It was a small yet significant victory, a sign that you were coming back to him.
He couldn't help but smile, the weight that had settled in his chest since that fateful moment in Jaehyung's office finally beginning to lift. "You had us worried there," he admitted softly. "But you're strong. You made it through."
As you gradually emerged from the depths of unconsciousness, the sterile scent of the hospital room enveloped you. The soft beeping of the monitors provided a steady rhythm, grounding you in the present moment. Wonwoo's presence was a reassuring anchor. His voice reached you, gentle and filled with concern, asking if you could hear him. You turned your gaze towards him, finding comfort in his familiar face.He spoke with a mix of relief and tenderness, updating you on what had transpired. You absorbed the information, piece by piece, trying to make sense of the events that had led you here. As he recounted the mission, the confrontation with Jaehyung, and the moments that followed, you felt a surge of gratitude towards the man sitting beside you. He had been there, every step of the way, unwavering in his support.
The hospital room was bathed in the gentle glow of muted lamplight, casting a serene ambiance. The scent of antiseptic lingered faintly in the air, a reminder of the sterile environment. Machines hummed softly in the background, their rhythmic melodies providing a steady cadence to the room.
You nestled in the hospital bed, the sheets cocooning you in their crisp embrace. The warmth of the blankets provided a sense of security, a stark contrast to the harrowing ordeal you had just endured. Your gaze was fixed on the window, where the night sky held its own secrets, distant stars blinking in silent solidarity.
Beside you, Wonwoo sat in vigilant watch, his presence a steadfast anchor. His eyes held a mixture of relief and concern, a reflection of the tumultuous events that had unfolded. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a silent promise of support.
You took a deep breath, the scent of the hospital giving way to the familiar scent of Wonwoo's cologne. It was a grounding force, a reminder that you were not alone in this moment of vulnerability. With a gentle squeeze of his hand, you found the courage to share your innermost fears.
"I was so scared, Wonwoo," your voice broke the quietude, a tremor betraying the weight of the memory. "When Jaehyung dragged me to that bathroom after he shot me... it felt like the world was closing in."
Wonwoo's arms enveloped you, his embrace offering both solace and strength. His voice, soft yet firm, spoke words of reassurance. "You're safe now, Y/n. You don't have to carry that fear alone. I'm here for you, always."
His words were a lifeline, pulling you back from the precipice of darkness. In that embrace, you found a sanctuary—a space where vulnerability was met with unwavering support. As you rested against him, the rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in tandem with your own.
As you nestled in his embrace, the weight of the past events began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of security and trust. Wonwoo's presence was a steady anchor, grounding you in the present, assuring you that you were not alone in this journey.
With a sigh, you leaned into him, finding solace in his warmth. "Thank you" you murmured, your voice carrying a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. "For being here, for... for everything."
Wonwoo's hand gently stroked your back, a gesture of comfort and understanding. "You don't need to thank me, Y/n," he replied, his tone gentle yet resolute.
The words settled around you like a protective cloak, wrapping you in a sense of belonging. In Wonwoo's arms, you felt seen and valued, your emotions honored and acknowledged. It was a rare and precious connection, one that went beyond the bounds of partnership.
The minutes ticked by in a comfortable silence, each breath a reminder of the resilience that had brought you to this moment. Outside, the world carried on, but within the confines of that hospital room, it felt as though time stood still.
The warmth of Wonwoo's embrace and the steady rise and fall of your breaths provided a sense of security that was both grounding and reassuring. Your eyes locked to each other and slowly closed as you leaned into a kiss, you could feel the tension melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and connection. It's the electric touch of lips meeting, a gentle exploration of warmth and tenderness. As your lips gently press against each other, there's a softness that envelopes both of you, a sensation that transcends the physical and ventures into the realm of the emotional. It's a meeting of souls, an unspoken language that conveys affection, desire, and trust between you and Wonwoo. In that fleeting moment, time seems to stand still. The world around you fades into the background, leaving only the two of you locked in a tender embrace. It's a sensation of vulnerability, of allowing someone to get close enough to touch a part of your heart.
Eventually, the kiss was interrupted by the distant shuffle of footsteps in the corridor. It was a subtle reminder that the world continued to turn, carrying with it new challenges and triumphs. With a smile, Wonwoo shifted slightly, his gaze meeting yours.
"I should let you rest," he suggested, a trace of reluctance in his voice. "You need your strength for the road ahead."
You nodded, a mix of gratitude and weariness coloring your expression. As Wonwoo helped you settle back into the bed, you felt a renewed sense of determination coursing through you. Together, you would face whatever challenges awaited, fortified by the unbreakable bond you had forged.
As your eyes fluttered closed, a sense of calm settled over you, accompanied by the knowledge that you were not alone. Wonwoo stood vigil, a silent sentinel, his presence a beacon of reassurance in the quiet room.
And as sleep claimed you, you knew that when you awoke, you would face the future with renewed strength and unwavering resolve, guided by the steady presence of the man who had become so much more than a partner—a true confidant and a source of immeasurable strength.
*
Wonwoo couldn't believe his eyes when he walked into the office and saw you sitting there so casually. It had only been five days since the near-tragic incident, and you'd had just three days to recover from the surgery. Seeing you back at your desk with a support device for your left shoulder surprised him.
He was on the verge of expressing his relief and concern, but then Taekwang's arrival to the office, along with his obvious excitement upon seeing you, made Wonwoo decide to postpone his lecture for another time.
Wonwoo's eyes were fixed on you, a mix of relief and worry etched across his features. He couldn't believe you were sitting there so casually, only three days after your surgery. The support device on your left shoulder was a stark reminder of the ordeal you had been through.
As Hyunjin rushed in, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, Wonwoo instinctively pulled him back, sparing you from a potentially painful hug. It was clear he was being protective, though he masked it with practicality.
"Sunbaeeee!" Hyunjin's voice trembled with emotion. "I was so worried!"
You offered him a reassuring smile, understanding the depth of concern that had gripped your teammate. "I'm here, Hyunjin. I'm alright."
Wonwoo, still holding Hyunjin back, asked about Hansol and Seungkwan. It was a testament to his vigilant nature that he was already thinking about the whereabouts of the rest of the team.
"They've gone for coffee," you replied, your eyes lighting up at the thought. "I can't wait to have some too."
This statement, however, didn't sit well with Wonwoo. His brows furrowed in concern, he immediately went into protective mode. "You shouldn't be drinking coffee until you've finished your medicine. No! you shouldn't be here at least until next Monday. What are you doing here?"
His words were a blend of gentle scolding and genuine care, revealing just how much he valued your well-being. It was a side of him that you had come to appreciate, and it warmed your heart to see how much he cared.
"I just missed everyone," you admitted with a small smile, "and the hospital sent me home, but I didn't want to be alone in my apartment."
Wonwoo's concern was evident as he inquired, "How did you get here then?"
"By cab," you replied, feeling a touch of independence in your voice.
Before Hyunjin could even offer to drive you back, Wonwoo swiftly intervened, "I'll take you home, Y/n. It's not too far, right?"
You nodded, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, sunbae. That would be great." As you looked at Wonwoo, you couldn't help but notice the subtle way he glanced around the office, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. It didn't take a detective's intuition to see that he wanted to spend more time with you.
The car ride with Wonwoo was filled with a sense of comfort and ease. You could feel the concern radiating from him, and it warmed your heart. As you shared snippets of your time at the hospital, you couldn't help but emphasize how much you had missed him.
"It was pretty lonely, you know," you admitted, glancing over at him. "Even though some officers came to keep me company, it just wasn't the same. I missed you a lot."
Wonwoo's smile was a balm to your soul, a silent reassurance that he felt the same way. The atmosphere in the car was cozy, the air filled with a sense of companionship that felt so natural.
As he drove, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for his presence. The fact that he had taken the time to personally drive you home spoke volumes. It was a gesture that made you feel cherished and valued.
Finally, as he parked the car, he turned to you, his eyes warm and gentle. "I'm glad you're safe now, Y/n. You've been through a lot," he said softly. "And now, you're finally here. For me."
His words held a tenderness that made your heart swell. You nodded, feeling the weight of the moment. "Thank you, Sunbae," you replied sincerely. "I'm just glad to be back, and with you."
Without another word, he opened his arms, offering a warm embrace. It was a hug that felt like coming home, a silent affirmation of the bond that had grown between you. In that moment, you knew that you were exactly where you belonged.You settled into the embrace, feeling the steady beat of Wonwoo's heart against your own. It was a moment of quiet comfort, a reminder of the unspoken connection that had grown between you.
"Sunbae, I..." you began, but before you could finish, Wonwoo gently interrupted.
"Y/n, when it's just the two of us, can you call me something else?" he asked, his voice soft. "Something a bit more... personal?"
You looked up at him, your gaze meeting his, and you could see a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. It was a rare sight, one that made your heart swell with affection.
"Of course," you said, a small smile playing at your lips. "What would you like me to call you?"
He considered for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. "How about... Love? Babe? Honey? Wonwoo is fine."
You couldn't help but chuckle. "Wonwoo it is then."
The two of you lingered in the embrace for a while longer, content in each other's company. Eventually, you pulled away, though the warmth of the moment still lingered.
"Thank you for everything, Wonwoo," you said sincerely. "For being there for me, for taking care of me."
He smiled, a genuine and heartfelt expression. "It's my pleasure, Y/n. I'll always be here for you." He leaned himself as his lips touched yours for a light but sweet peck.
"Have a rest, okay? I'll come after lunch, alright?" You nodded to his promise.
As you exited the car and made your way to your apartment, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you. You were grateful for Wonwoo, for his unwavering support and the special connection you shared. It was a feeling you knew you would carry with you, long after this moment had passed.
*
"Ya! What is this?" you inquired sharply, your voice cutting through the air. Heads turned, including Wonwoo's, all eyes focused on you. You read the words aloud, the screen casting a pale glow on your face. Boo Seungkwan's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and guilt washing over him.
"Boo Seungkwan, what on earth are you doing with this?!" Your voice thundered, carrying a weight that drew the attention of everyone in the room. Curiosity piqued, they hurried over to see what had caused such a reaction. Seungkwan, the real culprit, rushed to his computer, frantically closing the file. The title, "To The Rescue," was barely visible to the others, but for you, it stood out starkly, your name boldly etched as the main character of the fiction Seungkwan had crafted.
"What? What's wrong?" Jeon Wonwoo's voice was laced with innocence, his brows furrowing in confusion.
Your gaze remained fixed on your junior, his head now lowered, eyes fixed on the floor. "Explain," you demanded, your tone firm, awaiting an account of his actions.
"It's a story I wrote..." Seungkwan's voice was barely audible, a mixture of regret and embarrassment coloring his words. He went on to explain that he had been working on a fiction piece centered around his job, wanting to incorporate a romantic element. Stuck on character names, he had decided to use yours and Wonwoo's. As he spoke, Wonwoo approached the computer and began to read the opening sentences, his expression growing more serious with each passing word.
"Boo Seungkwan, you can't do this," Wonwoo, as the team leader, advised firmly. His words held weight, carrying the authority of someone who understood the implications of such actions.
You let out a heavy sigh, pointing a finger at Seungkwan. "If I see this file on your computer by tonight, I'll delete it myself, and your career goes with it." The threat hung in the air, a stark reminder of the power dynamic at play.
You turned and left the room, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders. Seungkwan's eyes pleaded with Wonwoo, silently begging for intervention. Despite being the chief's son, Seungkwan understood that your position held enough influence to shape his future, as well as Wonwoo's.
Wonwoo, too, sighed, a mixture of disappointment and concern etched on his face. "Follow her instructions. I want you to provide me with a summary of the basic deductions, and send it to me by tomorrow morning. Vernon, ensure that our friend here carries out his punishment." Vernon nodded in agreement, his expression respectful as Wonwoo exited the room, leaving Seungkwan to grapple with the weight of his actions.
The atmosphere in the room hung heavy with tension, the repercussions of Seungkwan's impulsive decision reverberating through the air. It was a stark reminder of the importance of responsibility and the consequences that could arise from overstepping boundaries, even in the realm of fiction.
"You can do it, bro." Vernon tapped his friend's shoulder.
The end.
#densworld🌼#seventeen imagines#seventeen angst#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fanfiction#seventeen scenarios#seventeen series#seventeen drabbles#seventeen#svt fic recs#svt fic#svt imagines#svt reactions#svt scenarios#svt smut#svt fluff#jeon wonwoo#wonwoo fluff#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo series#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo smut#wonwoo
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✿ damned if you do, and damned if you don't
summary: simon reminisces about your relationship...more specifically about what went wrong in it.
wc: 2.8k
a/n: i listened to something in the orange by zach bryan on repeaaat while writing this piece of angst and I'm not sure if I'm really happy with the way it turned out...anywayzz
simon "ghost" riley was not a man unfamiliar to loss.
the feeling of it. how it at first erupts like a bomb whose timer has reached second zero, quickly spreading through one´s body, tickling one´s nervous system and sending signals to one´s brain. forcing itself in and making itself known. there is no hiding from that first wave of loss, no denying its disquiet sensations settling themselves into every empty space. filling. suffocating.
how it after the initial shock settles down with no more space to spread itself, having accomplished its mission of infecting every part of one´s waking life. instead quieting down and disguising itself as normal. the calm after the storm one could say.
except for the fact that the calm only was visible from an outside perspective, and that the storm never really left.
simon had learned to deal with loss decades ago. although never really leaving him, it faded into the background, became a quiet part of him that almost exclusively slipped through when the sun had set and the moon had taken its place. when the wind seemed to hum chilling melodies of forgotten stories through his cracked open window and when the only birds that were still up were owls. that's when it slipped through. like blood finding its way through badly sewn stitches it haunted him. so close to closing the wound, accepting the loss, but not being able to hold it together for long enough to let it heal.
not that it really bothered him anymore. simon may not be a big talker, always blending into whichever secure background presented itself to him and observing. a look over his shoulder every couple minutes. old habits die hard or whatever the saying was.
but he was a thinker. had reflected on every life changing event that had crossed his path. over and over again he pondered over what had led to which consequences. what could have been avoided for the chance of becoming a better man? what of it had been his own fault and what had been a product of circumstances? almost every single time he came up with the same answer. same angsty, dramatic answer he used to think while desperately looting his mind to find a different one. one that he somehow could have skipped over, missed. one that he never seemed to find.
he must have been made for it, he thought. made for loss. made for hurting and being hurt. for pain. for gore.
maybe that's why he let you go.
you were a surprise really. simon had not dated for years and years, not even thought about doing so and definitely not looking for it. his teammates used to egg him on about finding a partner during late night poker games at the barracks. a few glasses of whiskey down and a whole bunch of money lost he only rolled his eyes back at them, a light smile coating the inside of his balaclava.
"y´need to find yourself a pretty little thing to domesticate you mate" they exclaimed drunkenly.
"can't even spell that word out" he joked back.
then came you and swiped him right off his feet. he tried to deny it to himself at first of course. ignoring the pull he felt towards you as if you were some kind of magnet, drawing him in closer and closer. ignoring the urge he felt to kiss you every time you spoke to him. looking up at him with your eyes glimmering of life and hope, cheeks tinted pink and plump lips glossy. ignoring the impulse to rip whatever other guy that approached you at the pub into million little pieces, until there was nothing left of him to remember. simon loved the way you seemed to flock yourself around him too, with always trying to get a laugh out of him by telling him your witty jokes, putting your hand on his forearm in instinct when he responded in his own sarcastic tone, talking to him like you wanted to figure him out, your overwhelmingly sweet nature almost making him spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets right then and there.
and oh did simon have a sweet tooth. the first time he had you he knew he was fucked. knew you were too sweet for him. too good.
the way your soft legs wrapped around him, pulling him as close to you as possible while he was pounding into you. one hand holding onto his strong bicep and the other caressing his cheekbone, his jaw while he groaned and panted above you, never drifting his gaze away from you almost as if he was trying to convince himself that you were real and not a figment of his imagination. simon had never made love before but a part of him knew that this was it. this was love.
and so he held onto you and you welcomed him with open arms, seeing something in him that he himself was not even sure existed. you held him as if he was worthy of healing, waited for him to open up about his past, his work and dreams of a future he had not dared to fantasize about, let alone state out loud for decades.
somehow, by merely existing by simons side you painted his, previously gray life in vibrating colors, pinks and greens and blues and yellows. giving meaning to parts of life he had never thought about appreciating before. slow dancing in his kitchen at night with only the pale moonlight shining through your sheer white curtains as a witness. wood creaking beneath you as your head is pressed to his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat that unbeknownst to you, was beating for you, and you only. his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close and pressing kisses to the top of your head every now and then.
watching the sappy movies you had raved on and on about and begged him to watch with you, claiming that he would love them just as much as you did. he knew he wouldn't, had never been able to stand romcoms and romantic dramas. but who was he to deprive you of a night filled with laughs and glossy eyes watching the screen intensely as though it was revealing the secret of life to you. sure, he did not love the movies you picked, but you did.
and maybe he loved you.
taking you to bed after a night at the pub with a couple of your old friends. a bit tipsy and clingy you hold onto him as he helps you up the stairs to the bathroom, helping you wipe your makeup off while you tell him about your night out in between giggles and kisses to his neck. making you a cup of tea before carrying you to his bed clad in the sheets you had picked out for him after stating that his were "old and boring". he did not mind the girly pattern of them, he would let you coat his whole house in pinks and hearts and bows as long as that meant you would spend more of your time there. you fit there so effortlessly he remembers thinking as he is looking up at you from between your thighs. your lips parted and head tilted upwards, moans escaping your throat with every flick of his tongue. falling apart on it, giving yourself to him, every single part of yourself while he devours you as though he's on death row and you are his last meal. the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, he states afterwards, hours into the night when he is satisfied with the amount of times he's made you cum on his tongue, while stroking your hair and caressing your cheek. praising you and whispering sweet promises in your ear until you fall asleep. meaning every single one of his words.
still, a part of him blames you for believing him. sure, he'd meant them with every bone in his body but how could such a precious thing like you accept promises like that from a man like him. you should have known better than to let him in, should have thought twice before intertwining yourself with him. mind, body, soul. a part of him still despises you for making it all so easy, as though his life was decorated In something purer than loss and hurt. as though his skin wasn't littered in scars he barely remembered where he got. scars you coated in small kisses when he fell asleep before you. silently damning any god who would allow such grim scars to be inflicted on such a beautiful man.
that is what you thought of him. your beautiful man. you saw past the hard exterior he had spent so many years building up, tearing them down with as little as one single glance.
and simon became scared.
scared of what he felt for you, the emotions coated in all your colors became too much for him to handle. threatening to spill over. and like when the loss he feels, the loss he has seen during his lifetime, slipped through and threatened to spill, simon did what he knows best.
he runs.
his missions become longer, leaves shorter. he knows you would notice something was wrong when he doesn't find a way to contact you while away like he usually does, always does. of course your mind immediately goes to the worst imaginable possibility. that he has died somewhere in a far away land that you know nothing about but some of the stories he has told you on late nights, wrapped up in each other´s arms. the fear of never being able to truly mourn him, for not even being able to find out any type of information on what could have happened to him. you worry and worry and worry. this is not like simon, you start to think as weeks go by with no contact. you start to doubt that he will even show up at your doorstep again, with a big smile on his face and flowers in his hand. not that simon knew any of that though. he himself thinking he was sparing you and somehow in his own twisted conclusion, helping you by staying away. showing his enemies more brutality than he usually did during missions. powering through like he was some kind of angel of death, occupying his mind with anything but the thought of how pretty your eyes look while begging him for more when he was on top of you, making you see stars. or how big your smile would get when the various flowers in all the rainbows colors, that you had insisted on planting in his small overgrown garden had finally bloomed. or how you let him grasp his rough hand onto your own delicate one when walking through a big crowd which he had always hated, wanting to find the nearest corner to blend into. somehow holding onto you made it tolerable, made it all tolerable.
he did show up though. on a rainy night he showed up with water dripping down from his clothes, a duffle bag in his hand that looked to weigh about as much as you did. and his balaclava on. he couldn't help himself but to make his way to the front of your porch the first thing he did when he got back. his plan to stay away from you immediately collapsing as his self control vanishes into thin air merely at the thought of having the privilege to go see you.
he knew you knew that something was up when he refused to take his balaclava off, even during the welcome back sex that took place on the sofa of your living room. almost as if he was hiding emotions behind it, shielding himself from you. or you from him. you reassured him that he could talk to you about whatever plagued his mind like you always did. assuming something had happened during his mission that would take some time to process, talk about, heal.
so you fought for him the way you knew he was worthy of. with all you had. showed up at his place with his favorite meal when he hadn't called you in days after his initial visit. hoping to get his mind off the thing that was keeping him away from you. hoping to make him understand how much you cared for him, accepted him. you never wanted to "fix him" and he knew that. instead taking him just as he was with all his flaws and broken parts, always seeing the good in him. you were patient with him, decided to wait for him simply because you knew that he was worth it and saw the way his cold eyes softened when he looked down at you. saw the way the crease between his eyebrows disappeared into thin air when he heard your laugh. the way he shivered when you ran your hands over his shoulders, his back, completely relaxing at your touch. his own body language betraying the destructive thoughts he had spent weeks convincing himself of. like you weren't all he could ever ask for, and more.
like you weren't the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
all you had to do was be patient with him. right?
weeks and weeks went by with simon pulling away more and more. even on the days you spent together and the nights in each other´s beds, the energy shift was prominent. no longer being an underlying concern and instead becoming a big dark cloud constantly lingering over the relationship, impossible to ignore. then came the lightning, crashing down on the bond the two of you had built up, making you question if any of what you had felt for the man was true at all or just a delusion you had made up in your hopeful mind. at least that's what you told him with a trembling voice, during the arguments that emerged out of frustration and fear of this being it. the last of the connection. the end of it.
as though one of the magnets had broken and lost its electricity, losing all its strength to keep the poles together. and when has ever the power of one working magnet been able to attach itself to a broken one?
and so you left. after weeks and weeks of trying to get an answer out of him, worrying about him, begging him to just talk to you and tell you something about what he was thinking and feeling. asking him if you did anything wrong, misinterpreted his feelings towards you and the moments you shared. you left. and he let you. watched you walk away from him with uncertain steps and tears in your eyes towards the horizon farther and farther from him. the horizon in which he was convinced you would find your real happiness in someone who could match your colors, vibrate them back to you in return instead of pulling them out of you and leaving nothing but shades of gray behind. for your own good, he thought as you became nothing more than a distant shape of the women he loved but didn't know how to properly take care of.
what he didn't anticipate was the way you never really left him.
you didn't become of one the many losses he had accumulated throughout his life and stored in the darkest parts of his body. you were something else entirely and he saw you in everything.
in the bright sheets on his bed that he slept in every night with the fear of seeing you in his dreams. in the various flowers in his garden that were now dying from the lack of maintenance. in sappy movies and in the creaking of his kitchen floor. in late night tea cravings and in rainy clouds. in the orange of the sunrise and the orange of the sunset. you were everywhere, haunting him. and oh how simon knew that he was in fact in love when he discovered that physically running from you only made him yearn for you more.
almost hating you for having such a strong effect on him even with being so far away but still managing to coat his surroundings in reminders of you.
almost hating you for tricking him into thinking he could become a better man for you. giving you everything that the life and hope in your eyes reflected back at him.
almost hating you for seeing something in him that made you want to fight for the connection you had, only giving up when there was no other choice but to do so.
almost hating you for not returning home to him.
#simon ghost riley x reader#cod x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader angst#call of duty
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hey, love your writing!!! i was wondering if you would do a drabble of kyle garrick x y/n where y/n is a member of the 141 and they are trying to keep their relationship a secret, and just kind of fluffy shenanigans sneaking around lol
༘⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴ secretrelationship!gaz // hcs
A/N: gaz brainrot hours (๑ > ᴗ < ๑) i love him :)
『♡』 masterlist ♡ rules ♡ ask box
Warning(s): sfw, slightly suggestive, co-workers to lovers, mild injury mention, fluff, 141!reader, gn!reader // Word Count: 984
SYNOPSIS; trying (sometimes failing) to conceal your less-than-platonic relationship with Sergeant Garrick :3
THE FIRST LOOK;
─── the definition of a meet-cute... or as cute as it can be on an active base. It was impossible to not be drawn to him; the youngest member there, sitting in the corner of the briefing room with Soap talking his ear off. After minutes of shifting awkwardly and finding solace in eye contact with Gaz, the chatty Sergeant finally walked away.
♦ His eyes finally raised from his desk, locking his gaze with yours. Despite his off-putting scowl, his umber eyes glued to you, and only you. At the very least, he knew he would have a good friend, though he was already picturing more.
♦ For a man so collected, he felt his chest tighten. "Sergeant... Garrick, is it?" You sat in the chair beside him, giving a look of warmness and disquiet combined. He remembered that feeling; the overwhelming atmosphere of a crowded compound, the tireless workload, and all the new faces and titles to memorize.
『 "Kyle, unofficially. And you?" 』
ON-DUTY TOGETHER;
─── more of them should've caught on. requesting the same hours for guard duty as an excuse to stand beside each other. the odds were in your favor, for the most part, because most of them thought nothing of it. you two were just... close "co-workers" who never ran out of things to talk about or tease each other over.
♦ "Aren't you supposed to be watching that hill, Sergeant?" You huffed, lowering your binoculars. He was watching the hill — but only when you caught him staring at you. It had only been a few weeks and the endless chatter had turned more into borderline flirting, if not full-on pursuit of the other.
♦ He shook his head, now refusing to give you the satisfaction of catching him again. "I am watching the hill, mate, since you're so concerned." He replied, pressing his lips into a slight pout. The blazing sun engulfed his tan complexion, somehow looking more fetching than ever before.
♦ You couldn't handle walking on eggshells much longer, otherwise you'd begin to think he had a violent distaste for your personality. Perhaps it was sleep-deprivation, or the fact that you had spent so many hours with him, but you finally addressed the elephant in the watch tower;
『 "Hm, is that all I am? Your mate?" 』
LATE NIGHTS;
─── taking into account the unrelenting humorlessness of your profession, lights out became the golden hours between you and gaz. besides, there were fewer prying eyes, therefore less concern about getting caught.
♦ Kyle made a habit of entering your quarters abruptly, usually with a mound of snacks in hand. "It's only nine and you're in bed? Swear you're an eighty-year-old at heart, love." One of your favorite candies had been chucked at your head, shattering any semblance of relaxation you had. By now, you had gotten used to this.
♦ He was the embodiment of a snack dispenser in the disguise of a co-worker. Even worse when you would attempt cutting back on the junk food. Ironic, considering how fit he was — though you could attribute that Gaz hitting the genetic lottery (looks and health-wise, no matter how much food he packed away).
♦ Hours of talking could pass, and you wouldn't notice until you glanced at the digital clock. In your defense, you were getting several hours of gossip out in one sitting. It's not easy to work with the one person you want to talk to, yet, be unable to speak to them until after-hours.
『 "I think Soap's onto us. Keeps starin' at me whenever you're around, trying to make me slip up and mention you." 』
IN TOO DEEP;
─── even after several months of secrecy, of petty arguments, of varying conversations — you had never been so upset at him. Until now, when he knew the risks and proceeded regardless. Entering hostile territory after evac, purely to sweep for innocents once more, and disobeying orders while doing it.
♦ Before Price could get a word in, you were in his face. For the first time, you had stunned your co-workers into silence. "What the hell is wrong with you? Look at yourself, Gaz." You motioned toward the gash on his forehead. Then, your attention turned toward the bullet absorbed by his vest, one that could've been the end of him if the hostile had been more accurate.
♦ "You could've been killed." No matter how hard you tried to contain the tremble in your voice, you couldn't. It was evident, practically palpable to the rest of them.
♦ His self-righteousness would be the death of you. Endearing, but made your heart stop every time. "Just a couple bruises. And this?" He pointed toward the scrapes on his face. "I've gotten worse from you." Kyle gave you a subtle wink, one the others wouldn't have seen.
♦ You collected yourself and turned on your heels, still under the watchful eye of the rest of them. At the sudden realization of how much they had seen, you stepped out of Price's way, "Sir." The captain sighed, giving you a nod to ease your anxieties. He knew something was up, but never had solid proof until now.
♦ And Soap? He barely contained his smirk — shifting his gaze from you to Kyle, who only returned the favor by sneering at the Scot. Had you blown the secret entirely? That was up for debate. But they were certainly suspicious.
♦ After he exited the med bay, now with a few bandages and a bruised ego courtesy of your wrath, you caught up to him. To keep appearances, you walked parallel to him while keeping your eyes ahead.
♦ But this wasn't done. Your boyfriend doesn't just almost die and go without penance. At least... your way of penance ;)
『 "This isn't over, Sergeant. You'll see, tonight." 』
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ divider cred. - cafekitsune
#mw2#call of duty#task force 141#mw2 fanfic#task force 141 x reader#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#gaz headcanons#gaz x reader#gaz mw2#cod headcanons#141 headcanons#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#141 task force#cod x reader#cod x gn!reader#cod x you#cod x y/n#cod x female reader#i love gaz#sergeant garrick
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Feathers On a Hearth
Did I just write a 2,000+ word Huskerdust snz fic because I have no impulse control? The answer may not surprise you. Hope you enjoy!
Edit: Someone asked for a follow-up and well. Part 2 I guess!
--
“A day off?” Angel Dust slapped his upper hands on the counter, lower firm on his hips. “Whaddya mean a day off?!”
“My, my! Such a reaction!” The Radio Demon hummed from behind the bar, “I thought you’d be pleased that Husk asked for some relaxation time.”
“Of course I’m happy! That’s the problem!” The other fumed, picking nervously at the hem of a glove. “The bastard never takes his fifteen, let alone twenty four hours to himself. Even after the whole extermination shit went down and the hotel’s name was back up in lights, he opened up shop the next day like nothin’ happened!”
“Hm.” The Overlord’s fingers stilled above a wine glass, drifting into a trance. From a distant white fuzz of radio that traveled with the hotelier, Angel Dust heard bits and pieces of unknown voices, clipped nonsense like jagged edges of glass against a chalkboard.
Unknown help NEEDED uSefuL For meat.
“Alastor?” Angel Dust finally piped up, and his host seemed finished ruminating on the world’s most ominously displayed conclusion.
“I would love to uphold Husker's wishes for privacy. However, if it satiates your curiosity in any way, feel free to convince him otherwise.” Alastor snapped his fingers, and a door somewhere above unlocked with a sharp click, "The poor thing hasn’t come out of his room all day, and I admit it’s a bit disquieting to not have our bartender at the ready. Always waiting with a refreshing drink and a silver tongue...”
Pencil thin brows furrowed. Okay. Okay, fine. Either fuck over Husk’s boundaries– not a fan of goin’ down that road again– or risk it and make sure he’s okay. Regardless.
“Is this some kinda sick way of showin’ that you care about him?” Angel Dust squinted suspiciously.
A howling laughter cut the air like a knife. “O-oh! Ohohoh my! Th-that– ahaha– H-heavens, no!” Alastor wheezed out. “I want to see how badly this trainwreck goes! It's been quite a show to watch such a beloved actor even think about rubbing elbows with a washed up, wrung out has-been like Husker!”
Angel's face twisted, blushing scarlet with anger at a cackling studio audience that filled the bar. He couldn't help it-- whatever cadence, whatever tone, he'd heard the same exact laugh plenty of times with every tug of a chain. “I don’t get what Charlie sees in a creepy, sadistic fucker like you. But y’know what? I hope you get to the top. I hope you get everythin’ you want. Because when you look down from your sad, dinky little radio tower, no one is gonna be there to watch.”
Flashing his last two arms just to flip Alastor off with his entire being, Angel Dust spun on his heel to storm up the steps. And all too faintly, he heard one last little hiccup of a broadcast. He stopped at the haunting swell of violins, nearly tugged backwards by the sobbing of a woman reaching out to embrace her savior.
Thank you.
The tapping of Alastor’s staff and his hushed string of curses were nothing compared to the smug smirk that nearly split Angel’s face.
“Hey Whiskers, it’s me!” A knock echoed on Husk’s freshly crafted door, pentacle etchings still bonded to the knotted wood.
His calls were only met with silence.
“C’mon, I ain’t gonna try anything. We’re past all that and you know it.”
The silence persisted. A louder knock. Shit. Alastor was definitely not the type to play a prank, and Husk definitely wasn’t the type to stay quiet forever.
“You okay? You ain’t bleedin’ out on the carpet, right?” He worried his bottom lip, running a thumb against sore knuckles. “...Husker?”
“I heard you the first time.” A gruff voice answered. Oh thank fuck.
“Then what're ya waitin' for? Let a gal in, would ya?”
“Can't.”
“Alright, fine. Then I'll do it myself.”
“No!” A tornado warning seemed to go off the second the doorknob was even slightly turned. All sorts of bits and bobs were haphazardly knocked about in a cacophony of noise. Somewhere along the way the chaos settled for a brief moment, ragged breaths building and building until--
"Ht'shhuh! Hut'CHNX! HHHT'CHNXT'uh!" The sound of shattered glass pierced the air, and Angel Dust nearly jumped in place at the sharp yelp that followed.
"Hey, what the Hell!?"
“I'm okay, don’t-- kaff kaff! don't move. I’ll come to you.” Husk croaked. The door finally crept open and– oh.
“Oh. Oh, wow.” The spider whistled at the sad sight before him. “Ya look like shit.”
Or at least, the little bits that poked out. The bartender’s bedsheets were wrapped around him like a patchwork cocoon, making every second standing a heavy, tangled effort for the shivering bundle. Underneath the makeshift hood that covered his head, the fur on his face was matted with sweat, a single claw pressed just below a flushed nose. His eyes were squinting through a bleary fog, as if it took his entire being just to concentrate.
“Nice t’ see you too. Listen. I’m obviously sick, so if you need somethin’ from me just grab it and go.”
Okay, rude. This was not the kind of hot mess Husk usually was-- at least, not six months into their trauma bond. And strange enough, his room was no different. Card collections, casino chips, beer bottles, all the little things were flung every which way. But the most bizarre was a trash can haphazardly stuffed to the brim with red and black feathers, peppered by wads of clawed-through tissues.
“Uhhhh.” Angel Dust's brow furrowed at the sea of half-broken junk, “I don’t need nothin’, but I’m pretty sure if I did then I'd need to ask a gravedigger first.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake– then what do you want?!” Husk snapped. Angel stilled, surging through ten different emotions at once. But the sickly demon only landed on one, eyes wide with overflowing guilt. He hunched low, retreating towards his bed with wobbling steps. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to– I. I’m just not feelin’ right. Snf! But I'll be better by t-tuhh-tomorrow. Jus’…just forget thihhh-this ever…ever ha-happened.”
Angel Dust watched on in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. Maybe Charlie, Princess of Friendship, could have calmly negotiated with the bartender. Maybe she could have sung a song to magically solve a lesson of the day. Maybe she could have shown love and kindness and all the redemption bullshit that he'd come to respect. But Angel Dust was not Charlie. Angel Dust was Angel Dust. So, with all the love and kindness in his heart, the spider stepped a foot on the blankets and yanked his friend backwards. And caught off guard, Husk released the claw that kept a worrying tickle at bay.
"Hhhuhh...huh! Hup'shhhoo! Hup'SSHHHUH! Sh-shihhh-shihht nohhh-not agaaaiihhhh…Heh! HETCHHH'HOO!" A pair of wings involuntarily flapped at the small fit, sending a small firework of feathers into the air. Patchy, bare spots that once balanced the owlcat sent him stumbling on the ever-tilting floorboards. And suddenly, body moving before his mind could, Angel Dust hurriedly caught the other in a low dip. Tangled under his partner's shadow, Husk’s red-tipped ears folded until they practically pressed against his skull.
“Snff! Uh. Thanks.” He swallowed.
“No problem.” Angel echoed, stopping to blow a feather from his mussed bangs.
“...You can let go now.”
“If I do, are ya goin' to fall before you even touch the bed?”
Husk's pause lasted a second too long.
“That's what I thought. Now, I’m gonna lead with your shoulder and your waist. And it'll just be touch and nothin' else, cross my heart.”
“Hey, you– kaff! offered to help me out. If there’s an issue that you’re lookin’ for, I couldn’t see one if I tried.” The other mumbled, unsure if he could get any redder. “But thanks for the heads up, Ange. I mean it.”
Gently the spider guided him with four sturdy arms, the third pair growing to snatch up his shed blankets along the way. Looking down, Angel’s heart suddenly squeezed as the cat in his hold immediately fought sleep at the touch, head lolling against his chest.
“Soooo. You can molt?” Angel squeezed his shoulder playfully.
“...Mm. Sucks, but I always push– snff! Ugh, push through it.” Husk grumbled, scrubbing his eye with a paw to force himself awake. Looking anywhere but at his helper.
“Oh, please! You know I ain’t stoppin’ here, right? I’ve fucked a lotta demons with wings and I gotta say, those bad boys ain't gonna pity ya anytime soon. 'Specially paired with that cold've yours.” He pushed Husk onto the mattress, ignoring the soft grunt that followed. “Now lay down.”
Finally relenting, his patient rolled onto his stomach, pressing a pillow over his head to muffle his thoughts for two entire seconds– or at least while his back and nose had stopped itching something awful. Because without realizing it a warm smolder had filled his chest, sparked at the onslaught of attention. It was the cold. It was just the cold. It was not the sheer audacity of being needy for once in his miserable life. Goddamnit, when had he suddenly become so needy?
“Good boy.” A voice whispered gently, breath hot against his bare back. Yep, that's nausea. Definitely nausea and nothing else. Husk quickly stomped out the growing flame before it could spread any further. Unfortunately, a different sensation crawled up his nose, and he pressed the feather-stuffed fabric against his muzzle. Desperate to not deal any more damage. He was supposed to be the hotel’s bartender. He was supposed to be Angel Dust's bartender. It was his job to look out for the struggling souls around him, not the other way arou--
"Huh! Hhhhuuhhh...F-fuck."
"Need help?"
“Wh-whuhh— Snff! What?” Craning his head, the tip of a discarded feather tickled the rim of his nostrils, and whatever pained torture Husk would have had to grin and bear was swapped with another.
"HUP'CHOO! HUT'CHHHOO! Hhhuhhh...hhhuh!...hah hhahhhhHTCH'HUH! Hhhhhuuhhh.......hhhuhh.....hguhh...snff! Ow." Between ragged gulps for air, he heard the thump of books and bottles fall from the high shelves above. He didn't even want to look at the state of his room right now. Instead he blindly grabbed for a tissue, sharp trumpeting blows intertwined with flustered apologies.
He regretted even thinking about opening his eyes. He would have rather sneezed himself into a second death than deal with the disaster that regularly re-disorganized itself. But vision clearing, he blinked back shock as Angel Dust already had a mop in hand, cleaning supplies at the ready. Steam curled against the cat demon’s cheek, and he turned to see a rag was already soaking on the nightstand. Mystified, the bartender watched as his patron stop mid-task to slide it forward, a welcoming smile on his face. The bowl seemed to move in an oddly nostalgic way. Like the film strip of a memory that didn’t quite catch the light.
Or the offer of a refreshing drink and a silver tongue.
"...This is stupid." Husk finally broke the silence.
"Ugh, I know right? The books are no big deal, but whisky's gonna be a bitch to get outta the carpet. I'll have to grab Niffty before it stains--"
"No. I mean, you don't need t’ clean up after me. I...I-I can do it myself." Husk mumbled, pushing himself upright– or rather, made a daring attempt before collapsing back on the mattress.
Angel Dust stared. Really stared. Throwing aside the handle in his palm, he rested two right hands on his hip. “Husk. Sugar. Sweetheart. Babydoll. You dragged me kickin’ and screamin’ outta bad days plenty of times. What's wrong with me doin’ the same for you?”
“Oh c’mon, we both know that I can do all this bullshit myself. Cleanin’ my room. Washin’ my wings. Why do you need t’ be my personal assistant for the day when you're so busy dealin’ with the studio! 'Specially with Him bitchin’ and moanin’ and runnin' you ragged! I see you stumble through the door at three in the morning, clutching your stomach like it got whittled to nothin’! He orders you around like a goddamn dog on a leash, and then you come home to what? Take care of another asshole like me? Why should some shitty ex-overlord get the same kinda treatment?”
--rubbing elbows with a washed up, wrung out has-been--
Oh.
Oh that motherfucker.
"You--" Angel Dust felt his blood boil, chasing away the ghost of radio static that crawled under his skin. “Are you fuckin' kidding me?!”
Husk jolted, fur puffing in surprise as Anthony pulled him onto his lap. “Stop bein' a dumbass! You deserve this. You deserve to be pampered. If ya think I’m here because I feel pressured and not because you’re actually– oh I dunno, worth bein’ cared for– then let me make things crystal fuckin’ clear for you.”
“Kid–” Overgrown pleas were cut at the stem, body going limp as a steaming cloth trailed down bone dry wings. And as dark thoughts began to drift, the spider rested his chin on the crook of Husk’s neck. One by one he plucked every warped thought with every warped feather.
"You ain't forcin' me to do nothin'. You ain't payin' me as a client. You ain't no toxic ex. And you definitely ain't like Valentino. So get it through your thick skull-- I don't hang around ya 'cause I need to." Cupping a flushed cheek for good measure, Anthony ever so slightly tilted a hypnotized gaze his way. "I do it because I want to."
Faces flushed and heavy-lidded with bliss, the actor forgot himself, bathing in the silence. The peace. The safe haven he called Husk.
The other, very predictably, pulled back to sneeze.
Husk buried his muzzle in a tissue before he could give his drinking buddy-- friend-- partner-- whoever the fuck was in front of him at this point in time an impromptu shower.
"'CHNX! CHNXT'hhhooo...hhhuh! HUH'ASHHHOO!" He cautiously peeked open an eye, blinking back shock when his wings didn't snap open. Instead they continued to lay there, well-washed and preened to perfection. So with a shaky breath he lit the spark in his chest, allowing it to burn gently through his ribcage like it was a small, rusty hearth. Swallowing down a soft purr before it could escape.
"Wait, wait, wait." Yanked back to reality Angel Dust grabbed the cat demon’s shoulder to spin him around, looking him dead in the eye. "Am I crazy, or do you sneeze in triples every time? That’s. Adorable."
"Oh shuuhhh…hhuh!" A blur of a black and red feather swept under his prickling nostrils, fanged smirk kissing the base of downy barbs between lithe fingers.
"Hhhhuh! You s-suhhnofa-a-aahh!...hhhah…” Husk held his breath like his afterlife depended on it, desperately scrubbing at his muzzle to quell the angry itch. Startling when Angel’s lips pecked the tip of his raw nose.
Shit.
“F-fuhhhcking ch-ch-chhheater– Hhhept'choo!" Husk doubled over into the nearly-shredded tissue.
"Oh my goodness, bless you!" The spider demon cooed teasingly. "One."
"Sh-shuhhht…sh-shu-shut the fuck uhhp-- HUP'CHHH’hhoo!"
"Yeesh! That was a big one. Two."
"Guuuuhhh...g-gonna kihh-kill youhhhuuhhh-hhuh-huh-hah! HATCH'HHHOO!"
"Hah! I knew it! Holy shit, that’s so cute!" Angel Dust gushed through bouts of uncontrollable laughter-- rudely interrupted when a pillow smacked him square in the face.
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Dream is a Willy Wonka-esque figure who opens his mysterious magical workshop to children who find a winning ticket.
Dream is tired -- creating is a job, the workshop a prison, of his own design, after Slugworth Burgess tried to steal him and his designs. Dream even pushed his family away, one less set of hostages to Burgess.
But Dream is lonely (he can admit that in his own head), maybe this idea of a world wide contest will find someone worthy, who will ease his disquiet and creative block.
When Eleanor died, Hob and Robyn fell on hard times. They have each other, which is a happiness of a kind, but they could use some magic in their lives. When they can afford one of Dream's creations, they share it. They can't afford to be part of the frenzy when the workshop contest was announced - finding a ticket was going to be done by those numpties that bought boxes and boxes of product to try and find a ticket. When by pure luck and happenstance Robyn finds the last ticket, he and his Da are ecstatic.
*
🍬
*
Robyn wins in the end (doesn't get shrunken, doesn't turn into a blueberry, choses not to sellout a mean seeming Dream to Burgess); and Hob spends most of the tour flirting with and flustering the pretty goth man who everyone else (on the tour & generally) thinks is super weird and off putting.
Is Matthew an oompa loompa, maybe.
Absolutely yelling at the idea of horny dad Hob completely ignoring all the extremely questionable shenanigans/child abuse going on around him just so he can flirt with the weird eldritch chocolate factory owner. Very in character tbh!!!
At the end of the tour Robyn is hanging out and talking to Matthew (he may be an oompa loompa but he refuses to sing and he just acts like a normal guy) about the whole chocolate business and what kinda of candy Matthew likes best. And he suddenly notices that his dad and Mister Dream have disappeared? Whatever, maybe they wandered off to talk about legal stuff (Robyn is like, 12. He can't just acquire shares in a business without having some kind of responsible adult to help). Anyway, after a little while they come back and Mister Dream is blushing so hard, he looks like he just ran a marathon. And Robyn's dad has something white and sticky smeared around his mouth. Chocolate, maybe? It's weird... but no one says anything about it, so it's probably fine.
Robyn's dad seems very excited to move into the mansion with Mr Dream. Maybe it's because their old house is kind of small and old. The mansion definitely isn't small - so Robyn can't quite work out why Mr Dream and his dad are apparently sharing a bedroom? Whatever, Robyn has chocolate recipes to design - maybe he'll ask Matthew about it later...
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SOME ILLEGIBLE RAMBLES AND REFLECTIONS: MISSING WYLL
Jumping off my last analytical post for BG3, I actually do want to talk about Wyll a little.
Wyll has been the companion I've had the trickiest time sorting thoughts out on. I do have thoughts on him, and frankly I want to invite people who are mainly Wyll fans to chime in if they have any observations that I might've missed! I don't know if this is the best way to explain it, but my perspective is if his story were a song I'd say he has the makings of a beautiful one--but there are notes missing. Notes that really, really should be there . I don't know why they aren't there, or if they've been hidden somewhere I haven't found yet.
As usual, longass discussion under the cut.
Here is my understanding of Wyll currently, without grabbing specific quotes.
Ulder Ravegard is his dad, who was a humble blacksmith who rose to nobility through some exceptional effort and personal achievement. Pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps sort of guy, takes pride in being compassionate and dealing with others in good faith. Raised Wyll not to consider himself better than anyone due to his status, but also seems to have imparted a lot of lawful good mentalities tbh. One thing that stood out a lot to me was a line Wyll said in Act III about how as a kid, he used to pretend to kill monsters in the park all the time. When he became an actual monster hunter as the Blade of Frontiers he had the disquieting realization that most monsters in reality are only people, just like him and his friends. This is interesting to me because it was NOT a lesson he got as a kid, and from how Ulder treats Wyll I don't think it's something Ulder is quite comfortable with himself. I'd go so far as to argue that, while Ulder's definition of 'good' is genuinely very good--it doesn't leave a lot of tolerance for anyone outside that. His compassion only goes so far and no farther. He's a little black-and-white in his thinking.
Side note: Wyll seems to treat being Blade of Frontiers like being a two-dimensional hero in a storybook at times. The Act III line where he admits it's all just messy people was so fucking interesting, and I wish there was more examination of the messy morality of trying to fight monsters or even understand what monsters are for him. Being good isn't easy or guaranteed and the most impressive title in the world doesn't prove you're actually a hero. Actions come before reputation.
Wyll was, according to the previous point, raised to be the embodiment of lawful good as Ulder saw it. Be selfless, don't indulge in finery or status, be noble, make sacrifices for the greater good. With that in-mind, I want to point out that for all Wyll doesn't like courtly life he loves to dance as something more aligned to that courtly lifestyle. It's one of the things he has left that continues to give him joy. It's an indulgence.
Wyll, as raised by Ulder, sacrifices his own well-being and future in his pact with Mizora to ensure no one else in Baldur's Gate came to harm. He was also bound in such a way that prevented him from explaining what happened or why. When Ulder saw his son return home with one eye, pacted to a devil, obviously in a lot of distress and struggling to explain something... Ulder's reaction wasn't to trust his son's morality or feel concern for him. Ulder decided to hurl out all history, all individual understanding of Wyll's character, and chuck Wyll out like he was a pure evil aligned monster and always had been. He just assumed Wyll was the embodiment of every selfish, depraved impulse he could imagine and a traitor to every cause he believed in. He also does not change his mind on this unless forcibly shown through the tadpole what actually transpired. He is not willing to listen or consider alternate perspectives, and I'd argue he loved his son as an abstract concept/extension of his own moral beliefs more than as his own person. (And as an aside: given how Ulder reacted to Wyll without even knowing his situation, do you think he would be ready to show compassion to someone like Astarion who has done horrific things to others under coercion?)
Note, Wyll never actually deals with previous point emotionally. He never allows himself to feel anger or grief over the way his own father treated him. He never lashes out at Ulder on his own behalf for not seeing him as a person, for not treating him as a person, for not loving him as a person or as his son. Ulder talks almost casually about having misjudged Wyll. 'Whoops my bad, I might be an asshole'. We're in a game where Astarion kills Cazador and just starts screaming and sobbing on his knees over everything that happened. Why isn't Wyll pissed off that everything he endured ALONE, the realization that his father never really saw or trusted him, was met with 'whoops'? Why isn't Ulder more horrified over what he did to Wyll? The fact that he isn't so much as in the same breath as other characters expressing anguish makes me think he still, STILL does not understand what he put Wyll through as his father. And Wyll having no reaction other than 'yay Dad likes me again :D' doesn't ring true imo. It's possible to love someone but be absolutely furious with or hurt by them. Mizora was not the only one who did Wyll dirty.
Wyll's pact with Mizora in the first place hinged on Wyll not trusting himself to keep Baldur's Gate safe from the cult of Tiamat AND Wyll not considering himself someone also worthy of protection too. Wyll is part of the tradition 'other people's suffering counts but not mine, I exist to be a shield for others'. I don't think Wyll has ever been taught he is also part of Baldur's Gate who should be kept safe. Self-sacrifice under those circumstances isn't an informed choice but like a self-destructive person offering their life up for cheap, when it isn't strictly necessary. First resort rather than last kinda deal.
Unless I've forgotten something, Wyll breaking his pact is framed not only by Mizora but the narrative as Wyll being selfish and deciding his father should die instead of keeping himself bound. The narrative itself doesn't really challenge this idea even if Wyll does successfully save Ulder unbound by his pact with Mizora. In my experience, out of all the cast members I think Wyll is the only one who is framed as possibly a worse person for opting out of the abusive relationship he's in. I really don't think he should be. Healthy selfishness (self-care, self-esteem) is not a bad thing. We have sayings about not setting ourselves on fire to keep others warm. I don't know why Wyll isn't given room to realize, discuss, and embrace this. In addition to everything else I've mentioned it kind of kills the shape of his character arc imo. Wyll starts off selfless to a fault. Having him remain selfless to a fault and continue making the same choices he did at the beginning sets him up for spiritual death as a character, which would make him staying pacted to Mizora fitting to articulate that concept in a way. He didn't 'sin' against or wrong other people to become a devil, but he absolutely 'sinned' against himself by allowing it to continue. It's total self-destruction and it's tragic. But when he breaks the cycle, in canon any degree of selfishness is still narratively condemned. He only gets "redeemed" if he saves Ulder, in the sense that he is still enforced as a selfless person/he is only so good as he is selfless. ADDITIONALLY! He's given a choice between protecting people as Archduke or protecting people as Blade of Avernus but there isn't actually a whole lot of discussion about Wyll's own happiness regardless of others. Wyll isn't given room to feel ugly emotions, anger on his own behalf, or basic self-preservation without the game itself side-eyeing him. Wyll should not have to be a "perfect" and selfless person to be a good and worthwhile person worth protecting.
Like... what bothers me, is that Wyll isn't given room to express or examine anything. He isn't allowed to feel conflicted or angry. He isn't allowed to want for himself. He isn't allowed to be furious with his father or to wonder if his anger at his father (who he still loves) fuels his desire to break his pact with Mizora or if it's just treating himself like he's worth something too. It kind of feels like the narrative itself is dehumanizing Wyll by denying him room to be selfish at all, even when he really needs to be. Even when it would give room for emotional and complex scenes that could resonate.
When I've thought about what kind of romantic partner would be most interesting for Wyll imo, what struck me was it should be someone who is selfish and actually encourages his selfishness a bit. Not in a corrupting way (even if he worries it might be at times) but someone who can encourage some balance in him and vice versa. I don't think Wyll works as a narrative tool to show how nice another character already is or be their trophy boyfriend. As a character, him being imperfect I think is intrinsically important to him feeling real. And guy really does deserve to feel real, you know?
It's been weird, since Wyll approaches some of my absolute favorite themes as a character for being a hero who needs to understand not being heroic all the time is okay/heroes need protecting too sometimes. But he doesn't really do anything with them currently as far as I'm aware. That's made it harder for me to engage with him. If his romance route touches on it more like then that's awesome. But I feel like if we could see full character arcs for other companions regardless of romance, it should be doable for Wyll too.
#final fantasy xiv screenshots#Wyll Ravengard#Blade of Frontiers#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#bg3#bgiii
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Doing something a bit different from my headcanons, though this one-shot does tie back to some headcanons I did a while ago. Hope y'all enjoy!
(The Headcanon)
Tick Tock: Stolas x M!GoetiaPrince!Reader One-Shot
☆-------------------------------------------------------☆
This was fine, you were fine. Sure, you were currently waiting to see the love of your life, the prince who you were kept from for decades. This was it, your chance to finally go back to him, to finally have him back in your arms. Satan's sake, that clock in the corner was far too... loud wasn't the right word. It was normal, just making you aware of the passage of time, both present and past.
...Annoying, that was the word. Although that still didn't feel right. Disquieting? No, that wasn't it either. Stolas would probably know the word, being a little, adorable nerd. Did he still wear those adorable glasses? You hadn't seen them in any pictures during your time forced away from him, but maybe he only wore them in private? You remember when you used to wipe the tears from underneath the lenses, the looks of adoration Stolas had given you through them, and every other emotion possible in his eyes. His beautiful, mesmerizing eyes.
You were getting nervous now. Stolas was taking his time, and you wondered if maybe he wasn't interested in seeing you again. You wouldn't blame him, you didn't even try to fight back when you were "forbidden from seeing him." Yeah, Paimon would've crushed you, but you could've atleast tried. Plus, Stolas supposedly has a new man in his life. Why were you even here?
"Because you're selfish," you mumbled to yourself. You wanted Stolas to be happy, but here you are, waltzing back into his life just like the two of had waltzed before. Except this time, you were the one butting in, not Paimon. Your brain was telling you to leave, to disappear again and save you both the heartache. But your body didn't move an inch, facing the fears you wanted to cower from.
Damn, that clock was getting to you, and you still couldn't find a word to describe it! Stupid, idiotic, useless, guilt-inducing, depressing, none of them worked. It was the only thing saving your mind from tearing itself apart and it was just as frustrating as your own feelings. Stolas never would've bought something like that, the clock was definitely from Stella. And then, you started thinking about her.
That lady made your blood boil. She was a status obsessed bitch, and you hated her for it. Why did she get to be the one to be with Stolas? You were there and ready, you would've actually loved him, unlike that overgrown brat. Yeah yeah, Stolas was supposed to produce an heir and you were both guys, but still! Magoc is everywhere in Hell, there had to be something, right?
It didn't matter now, though. Stolas already went through that pain, and you couldn't even hold him as he cried. You couldn't wipe the tears away. You couldn't sing a song just well enough to soothe him. You, the man who promised to protect him with your life, couldn't be his knight in shining armor, because you were a coward!
...That's it, that clock was going to be smashed. You couldn't take it anymore, it needed to be stopped at the least. You stood up and marched to it, ready to turn it into tiny splinters. You almost didn't hear the voice behind you. Almost.
"Y/N...?"
"Stolas, I-"
"Y/N!"
Stolas had gotten stronger apparently, as he fully tackled you to the ground, knocking over everything in the way. You could see the tears falling from his eyes, as a wide grin filled his face. He held on to you tightly, and you embraced him as well, tears also forming.
"I can not believe this is real. I thought that I would never see you again."
"Yeah, this is real. So are the pieces of whatever you knocked me into sticking in my back."
"Oh goodness, let me help you up."
Ironically enough, you landed on the clock, breaking it in half, leaving you with a slight sense of satisfaction. You didn't dwell for long though, as Stolas had you sit down with him on a nearby couch.
"It's... been a while, are you-"
"Stolas, I'm so, so sorry for everything. I should have been there for you, I should have protected you, I-"
"Y/N, please, there is nothing to apologize for."
"But there is! I should've been there for you!"
"And you would've been killed by my father if you did. I...I know I can't convince you that you don't have to apologize, so I want to accept your apologies for everything."
"I don't deserve you Stolas."
"You absolutely do, alright? "
"Heh, yeah... um, I don't want to intrude into your personal business, but I saw you were with someone else, and I wanted to let you know that, even though I still love you, I don't want to interfere with your relationship."
"Ah, Blitzø. I...I do love him, but our relationship is complicated, to say the least. There is far too much to really get into, and besides, I want to spend time with you. You've always had a piece of my heart, you know."
"I know, I know. Should we do dinner maybe? Catch up then?"
"That sounds delightful. Oh, and Y/N?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you, for coming back. I've missed you."
Stolas took ahold of your hand, gently brushing your knuckles. You missed this, you really, really missed this. You and Stolas made eye-contact, and before either of you knew it, you were kissing.
#oneshot#writing#stolas x reader#helluva boss x reader#helluva boss stolas#something a little different#fanfic#ish#not sure if it counts tbh
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the terror you long to look at
Written for @teenwolf-meta’s Meta May Monday theme: Ties.
Despite my frustration with the show’s handling of the anuk-ite’s mythology, I really liked the idea that, in the finale, it lures people into looking at it by becoming someone they long to see--but, at the same time, because the anuk-ite is a fear monster, someone they’re terrified of. I was frustrated, however, by the fact that the shape it took was either never explicit, or depended on who was doing a cameo for the finale. Here would be my picks for what the anuk-ite would look like, for the people who had to face it, if casting and time weren’t an issue:
Peter Hale would see Laura Hale. I didn’t dislike that the monster took the form of Malia, for Peter. She’s definitely someone he longs to see, and I’d interpret the fear aspect as either shame for when he’d hurt her or her loved ones, or simply fear of the fact that she sees through him. I think it would have meant a lot, however, if they’d shown explicitly that he misses Laura, and is afraid to face the fact that he murdered her even as he longs to see her. His murder of her starts the entire story, and it would have been an interesting way to incorporate it into the show’s finale.
Malia Tate would see Kylie Tate. We don’t actually know what form the anuk-ite took for her, which makes me mad, because it would have been such a good time to explore her grief for Kylie. One of the first things we learn about Malia is that she’s haunted by her sister’s death most of all, and is still, in some way, looking out for her. No matter how much time passes, she’s always going to.
Jackson Whittemore would see Matt Daehler. This one’s a little shaky because s2 ends with Jackson very clearly growing out of the headspace that made him a kanima, and literally growing away from it. But 1) they made him part-kanima again in the finale so I’ve decided that means he’s still got Baggage and 2) even if he moved on from being the kanima in general, Jackson never got to confront Matt specifically. Matt--this guy he had this intense and toxic relationship with, who represented everything the deepest part of him wanted--just disappeared from his life, only to be found dead in water Jackson could have saved him from. I think Jackson is terrified of somehow running into Matt again. I think he’s even more terrified of the idea that, on some level, he’d be happy to see him.
Ethan would see Aiden. How could he not? Of course he longs to see his brother, his literal other half and the one who felt what he felt all his life, whose life Ethan felt in turn. At the same time, we see in both 3a and 3b that Aiden’s passion for violence disquiets Ethan, even though he knows he’s protected by it, and in Motel California, Aiden also represents everything Ethan most fears, what he’d kill himself to escape.
Derek Hale would see Paige Krasikeva. I loved that we got a cameo from Haley Webb, but I maintain that Jennifer was the weakest choice for Derek. It’s not that I don’t think memories of her haunt him, but Derek already confronted Jennifer—multiple times, and in ways that literally had to do with “seeing” her. I definitely don’t think he longs to see her the way he’d long to see Paige, the girl he was manipulated into forcing the bite on—a mistake we know still haunts him. He was rattled to lose even the blue eyes that represent his guilt about her death. I think that even now, his longing to see her would frighten him, since his desire for her once led to her death.
Scott McCall would see his own murdered body. Ok, stay with me on this one! I loved that they did a cameo with the nogitsune wearing Stiles’ body, and I think that ranks near the top of Scott’s fears, but I don’t think he’d be tempted to look at him. Conversely, I think he’d long to look at Allison, but I don’t think that desire would terrify him.
I think the desire that most terrifies Scott is the one for his own death. Scott has struggled with suicidal urges since at least 3a, and Tyler Posey has discussed how, by the time Scott’s murdered in s5, he was “ready to die.” Scott’s death is the end of the relentless struggle his life has been since he was bitten, freedom from all of his perceived failures that haunt him--like the nogitsune taking Stiles’ body, like Allison’s death. It would be so fitting for him to confront that in the library, where he was originally murdered--where his murdered body once lay on the ground, the one part of himself he’ll never be able to see. Unless he looks now.
It would also fit really well with @daughterofluthien’s excellent meta about the meaning of Scott’s self-blinding in the finale. If the anuk-ite represents Scott’s desire to die, then the mutilation represents, ironically, his rejection of that desire, and would foreshadow his similar rejection of the lure of death in the movie, when he growls at the nogitsune: “I’m not ready to die.”
#teen wolf#peter hale#malia tate#jackson whittemore#derek hale#scott mccall#teen wolf meta#twmeta#twmetamay
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"Mutiny on the Enterprise" review
Novel from 1983 by Robert E. Vardeman (author as well of "The Klingon Gambit").
A short novel, written in the style of one of the episodes. It won't blow your mind, but it's fairly entertaining.
Actually, it's better if you haven't read previously "The Klingon Gambit", as otherwise, the similarities in structure between both novels are too much: Kirk loses control of his crew due to alien influences (here because they become mutinous, there because they became capricious) and then has a planetside adventure. Again, Kirk is among the few able to resist the brainwashing, because of his unwavering loyalty to his duty. Though in this occasion, he's joined by Spock (thanks to his Vulcan control) and McCoy (thanks to his power of... grumpiness? I don't really know why McCoy can resist so well against this all-powerful influence, but he's very angry for most of the novel).
Anyway, I found this one better than Vardeman's previous attempt.
There are some returning characters from "The Klingon Gambit", most notably, Chief McDonel: a female, even tougher version of Scotty, and a nice departure from the average female character in these novels.
The main "villain" (though that definition doesn't really apply to her) has some interesting, well-conceived powers. And the alien life forms that Kirk encounters in the planet are pretty imaginative, and at the same time believable.
As for the main trio, Kirk is the most developed character. And you can feel his mounting frustration against a situation quickly spiralling out of control.
On the other hand, I think that Spock and McCoy are way too hostile towards each other. Kirk spends a good amount of time chastising them for their constant fights. Though some of their bickering is actually funny.
Spoilers under the cut:
The Enterprise has to bring three ambassadors to mediate in the conflict between planets Ammdon and Jurnamoria. And as usual, one of the ambassadors is a complete jerk (why does the Federation always choose the most unpleasant persons to negotiate?). However, en route to Ammdon, Kirk rescues an alien woman from a derelict ship and brings her aboard.
Kirk soon notices the powerful influence of this woman, called Lorelei, on him and others. Something about the way she speaks, and even her appearance, has a compelling effect on everyone who listens to her.
Little by little, disaffection grows among the crew towards their current mission. Everyone seems convinced that, far from bringing peace between the two planets, the Enterprise's arrival will precipitate war. Even Sulu, Uhura, Scotty and Chekov start sabotaging the mission. And Kirk finds himself almost alone, with only Spock and McCoy still obeying his orders.
Everything points out to Lorelei as the instigator of the mutiny.
Her species is completely devoted to peace and non-violent solutions. And she, as a Speaker of her race, has the ability to modulate her voice and adapt her discourse to the listener, for maximum effect. Since she's sure that the ambassadors will fail to bring peace, she convinced everyone aboard to hamper the mission.
No matter how much Kirk insists that his intentions are also peaceful, she won't believe him.
In this way, Lorelei is a good foil for Kirk: both have ultimately the same goal of achieving peace, but Kirk's conviction that a show of force is sometimes necessary against those that desire war, makes their positions irreconcillable.
On top of that, the warp engines, which were already in need of repairs, finally break completely, and the Enterprise is left stranded. Actually, it's heavily implied that it was Scotty himself who sabotaged the engines, in order to follow Lorelei's wishes.
Fortunately, they discover a nearby planet, which seems enough technologically advanced to provide repairs. Spock and McCoy beam down to negotiate for the needed materials, but they notice something disquieting about the inhabitants. Neither the humanoids, nor any living creature there, seem capable of communication. And the entire planet reacts against any disturbance. When Spock tries to communicate with one of the aliens through a mind-meld, they're imprisoned.
The ambassadors follow suit, when they beam down without authorization.
Aboard the Enterprise, Kirk loses his little authority left when he orders to shoot phasers, to destroy the prison that holds Spock, McCoy and the others (remember, no violence). So the crew maroons him on the planet for being such a bad boy.
Down there, Kirk starts realizing what's going on with that place: the entire planet is actually a gigantic living thing, while the apparent creatures are like cells of a body, perfectly synchronized (that's why they don't need the usual ways of communication). Their presence, thus, is understood as something like a cancer, that the planet tries to get rid of. So Kirk approaches the prison, careful to not disturb a single thing, and avoiding tentacles on his way.
Since everything is organic, Kirk brings McCoy a hypo to anesthetize... the prison itself. And they're set free.
Meanwhile, a redshirt has died in a surprisingly gruesome way, and the ambassadors are also killed for upsetting the planet.
In the final part, Kirk, Spock and McCoy have to fight a battle against the whole crew to regain control of the ship.
First, they hijack the shuttle that Lorelei uses to bring repair materials aboard (she's so convincing, that she talked the planet into collaboration). And after that, Kirk makes his way through the hostile ship, for a final confrontation against Lorelei.
Once she's imprisoned, her effect over the crew starts diminishing. And Scotty finally gets to repair the damn engines, so the Enterprise can proceed towards Ammdon.
Ironically, Lorelei was right all along, and the ship's arrival prompts Ammdon to declare war on Jurnamoria, thinking that the Federation will support them in battle.
With all ambassadors dead, what will Kirk do to convince those two, stubborn leaders of the benefits of peace? What will he do indeed, hmmm...?
I think the solution is pretty obvious, right?
Spirk Meter: 0/10*. None that I've noticed.
There's perhaps some timid McKirk. McCoy reaches for Kirk's arm in a couple of dangerous situations.
And when Lorelei tries to regain the ship, she does so by telling Kirk that "Your Dr. McCoy has been imprisoned". She tries to beam him back to the planet, alone, which makes Kirk abandon the bridge, that he just won back with so much effort, and run to his rescue.
As for Spones, this is McCoy's observation to Kirk, about the two planetary leaders once they've reconciled:
"You're starting to sound like Spock. Those two are in love. Imagine, hating one another for so long, and now, who knows?"
"Yes, Doctor, who knows."
Well, who else has spent the entire novel fighting, and obsessing about every single thing the other says or does...? The irony seems lost to McCoy.
*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.
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Must Read explicit DNF fics
In no particular order, I just wanted to share the best NSFW fics I've had the chance to read lately. 🫶
there was something in everything about you by snakeinaboyband
Teasing words, “You like my face?”
His hips are being squeezed, Dream fully pressing against him, hot breath on his neck. He tries again feebly, “Let’s go watch something.”
One step and then Dream loops arms under his, pressing him into a hug from behind. Words against his jaw, the press of a smile there, “George, c’mon. You like me?”
Or, George loses a Mr Beast challenge but wins something else instead.
look up at me (i'll look down at you) by effervescentwolf
“You could- you could measure me,” George offers softly, giving permission, trying to keep his thoughts from chasing fantasies. “See how much bigger you are.”
“Bigger?” Dream echoes, eyes roving down, stopping to linger on certain spots that make George’s heart beat frighteningly hard in his chest. “What, should I check every inch of you?”
George’s mouth runs dry. “Yes,” and it comes out as a whisper. “You- you can.”
-
aka Dream likes being big. George likes being small. It's a good combination.
it could be worse by dizzy
Dream and George have been sleeping together since George showed up in the US, but George wants a definition for what they are that Dream just isn't giving him.
shifting lines by alisonsomething
It starts in L.A., this thing between Dream and George.
That's how we play it by jestbee
They both agree it's just until Christmas, just while they're in London.
What could possibly go wrong?
ignore my heart and lie to the truth by minecraftbed
“I just think it would be a waste,” George reasons, like this is some kind of problem he has to solve, “to not keep doing this. If we know that it’s good, and we’re not seeing other people… I don’t see why we shouldn’t do it again.”
“You wanna be like… friends with benefits?”
grown fluent by falsettodrop
Going back and forth as they always did, arguing for the sake of riling each other up, for the thrill of it—there weren't power plays here. It was just Dream-and-George, as it forever had been; it was both of them giving and taking in equal measure, sharing turns with it, revelling in the ease of which they spoke to one another.
-
A recurring 'joke' becomes reality.
come lay me down by jestbee
"Why are you still up?" George asks.
Dream shrugs. If it seems noncommittal it's only because he doesn't really know. Before, when George had still been thousands of miles away, when time and a sleep schedule meant absolutely nothing beyond being in sync, Dream might have been able to answer that question. Now, he's without excuses, without a need for his disquiet.
-
Four in the morning is the perfect time for a confession
Close Enough by BirbWatcher
At first, Dream managed to halfway convince himself that his attraction to George was purely physical - a reaction to his late sexual discovery that guys could be hot, too, actually, combined with a longing to experiment with the nearest specimen.
But after two months of unbearable tension followed by the first couple of times hooking up, Dream realised that he was doing George a huge disservice. George had never been someone to experiment with, even though he’d been more than willing from the first night he snuck into Dream’s room - no, the longer they spent in each other’s presence, the more Dream realised that George reached far deeper than he’d ever understood before.
-
Dream wants more than George is giving him, but maybe it's close enough.
For The Bit by biboyhalo
George always knew moving to Florida would bring changes into his relationship with Dream. He expected the changes to be minimal, though. Being able to talk more in person, being able to spend time in each other’s proximity, and, of course, being able to see him.
What he didnt expect, was the changes that came with their usual jokes. What he didn't expect, was them being able to follow them through with actions.
-
or 5 times Dream and George get distracted during sex and the 1 time it actually matters.
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“🙏❤️❤️ HOPE ❤️❤️🙏”
“My HOPE is in the LORD always
Psalm 42:5 “Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.”
This is such a beautiful verse read it and pin it to your heart
Worldly Hope…. a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.
Biblical hope … Biblical hope has as its foundation faith in God.
The word hope in English definition often conveys doubt.
I hope it will not rain tomorrow
I hope my results test results will be good
I hope we can get together
I hope everything will be ok
BIBLICAL HOPE is a reality and not a feeling.
BIBLICAL HOPE carries no doubt.
BIBLICAL HOPE is a sure foundation upon which we base our lives, believing that God always keeps His promises.
Hope or confident assurance can be ours when we trust the words He who believes on Me has everlasting life
John 6:47 Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me hath everlasting life.
Accepting that gift of eternal life means our hope is no longer filled with doubt.
Hope is a small word, but it is one of the most powerful.
It is powerful because in hope lies the power of the human soul to turn to God and live as if His promises are going to come true.
Psalm 31:24 Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord.
Some people when they speak of hope use it as an emotion. They say I am feeling hopeful but true hope is a discipline and a determination to believe in God’s reality and power even when the world seems to be crashing down around us.
The power of hope flies in the face of calamity, saying The world can do its worst to me but still I will hope. My hope is in the Lord. I will know that this is the day the Lord has made and He will take care of me.
The key to surviving any challenge or crisis is hope.
Hope that Jesus loves you.
Hope that He is, right now, working out a solution for you.
Hope that the future you place in His hands will be better than the present you hold in your own.
Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.
Today take a few moments and practice hope. Hope on the Lord . With its power you will overcome all things.
Isaiah 40:31. “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”
During the course of our day there are so many reasons to feel discouraged
When we listen to the news on tv we hear the problems in the world
When we face challenges that seem overwhelming
When we have problems that don’t seem to have solutions.
There are certainly times when we can feel hopeless.
The Bible speaks to us about these times
1 Corinthians 13:13. “And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.”
The verse above teaches us that all of us need hope.
The verse above teaches us that hope endures
No matter how dark or depressing our circumstances may appear, we always can hope in God.
God wants to give us hope in any situation, no matter how dark things might seem.
But we should not merely hope. God wants us to rejoice in hope!
Paul knew what it was like to have hope in the midst of hopeless situations. A perfect example
Acts 16:25.“And at midnight Paul and Silas prayed, and sang praises unto God: and the prisoners heard them.”
Acts 16:26. “And suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken: and immediately all the doors were opened, and every one's bands were loosed.”
See when we look to the world it certainly can provide answers but they only give short term relief.
Know we will be hopeless if we look at circumstances and let the world dictate how we think.
We may go through situations that are threatening, that can cause
Uncertainty, Anxiety, Doubt, Fear
But if we depend on God we can know that He is the source of hope, and we can rejoice in Him and the hope He promises us.
If we have hope we can be filled with joy and peace no matter what is going on in the world.
Today take a moment see the beauty surrounding you and no matter what it is you are going through do not allow yourself to place your hope in the world, the world system, or any human being in the world
Rejoice in the hope that God has given you.
Place your hope in the living God and His eternal power to save and make everything right in His time, in His way.
God is so good . Always keep your hope in the Lord . He goes before you and is always with you. He will see you through everything you go through.”
From: “Beneath The Shadow Of Thy Wings” (FB)
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— live to tell the tail
summary. you unfortunately lived in a universe where general gorou had found out ms. hina was… himself. and just your luck: gorou’s first impression of you was a crazed devotee of the ms. hina fan club, but you had only been in the wrong place at the wrong time. will you live to tell the tail?
love interests. gn!reader x a watatsumi general, an inazuman vagrant, the balladeer, and the kreideprinz.
warnings. infinite pet puns, referenced character death, weapons, swearing, blood, alcohol, harassment, and mentions of war.
word count. 892
chapter twenty-two ⌇ are you shih tzuing me
꒰ 🗒 series m.list | prev. chapter | next chapter ꒱
yae miko was the bane of gorou’s existence…
…so he was a little irked to see you falling over yourself to admire her in front of netsuke no gen crafts.
“guuji yae, i never thought i would have the chance to meet you like this!” you bunched up your shoulders and entwined your fingers behind your back. gorou had only seen a crumb of this strange behavior whenever kazuha swung by, but now... it was in full force.
okay, gorou recognized that, as an editor, you would obviously be thrilled to shake hands with the editor-in-chief of inazuma’s publishing house, but this same editor-in-chief had subjected gorou to a legion of teasing, pet names, and schemes. if the multiverse existed, gorou doubted there was a universe in which he trusted yae miko because in every single one, she would have most definitely created ms. hina without his consent.
“what a cute disciple i have,” yae cooed, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “i actually have something i mean to discuss with you, reader, but there’s a more pressing matter i must tackle with your furry friend first.”
you slowly nodded. “oh… do you want me to leave and then come back?”
yae detected gorou squirming beside you. “...i think he would want you to stay,” she concurred, which only exacerbated your confusion.
“d-don’t waste reader’s time!” gorou yapped, getting more riled up than usual. every bone in his body was screaming for him to flee, but he didn’t want to show a cowardly side of him with you there. “what do you need to talk to them about?”
how strange. when did gorou and reader come to know each other? “well, if you insist. i’m certainly not short on time myself.” arms cradling her stomach, yae looked at you with a more solemn frame of mind. “reader, i assume you are out here because you saw a discrepancy between what you know and the report you received today.”
“yes…” you scratched your cheek. “...on the off chance, are you aware of what happened to the book that went missing?”
“...your author should be,” she returned, “but i suppose things were lost in communication. a year ago, mr. yamamoto had contacted an illustrator from abroad by letter to see if he’ll draw art for tickled pink.
“a copy of that book was sent along with the letter… but i have an inkling the illustrator couldn’t respond in time before the sakoku decree was put into effect.”
so this all happened before i arrived at inazuma, you confirmed, eyebrows springing upward. no wonder i was never told anything about this. “who’s the illustrator?”
a thoughtful pause later, yae answered, “hmm… you’ll chance upon him eventually, reader. the yae publishing house commissioned him for the irodori festival, so… we’ll see if he accommodates for mr. yamamoto’s commission as well.”
that response made your nose scrunch up. was it too much for yae to apprise you of this guy’s identity? especially if he was so reputable to the point that the publishing house called for his artistic expertise… you racked your brain for names hotaru dropped in the past, but, to your understanding, none of them were illustrators.
gorou studied your dismay, his tail swishing speedily behind him. this formed a disquieting smile on the kitsune's face.
“hehe… reader, care to see what sort of face gorou is making?”
“pardon?”
with a gentle finger under your chin, yae redirected your attention to gorou’s cheeks that had blossomed into a rosy color once he realized this was another one of yae’s ploys.
“what… about his face…?” your voice grew faint.
it was that feeling again. caterpillars breaking out of their chrysalises in your stomach. nerves being set on fire. an acrobat performing a ropewalk.
and yae was getting a real kick out of watching you two act like students about to confess their crushes on each other behind the school building. it was time for her to play as the angel "cupid" (in her own devilish way). “fascinating. never would i have predicted for someone other than the traveler to get under your armor, dear gorou.”
“under my armor!?” gorou screeched.
yae lazily lolled her head toward him. “not literally, but i know you, general. you keep words lodged in your throat while letting other people vent to their heart’s content, but it’s a different story around the traveler, is it not?”
gorou rubbed a distressed hand over his face to suppress the urge to cry before wildly gesturing in your direction. “reader, don’t be fooled by her cunning words! there's nothing going on between the traveler and me!”
your eyes widened by the slightest bit. right, the traveler. why aren’t they the one in my shoes right now?
“um… oh,” you uttered absentmindedly.
yae and gorou stared at you.
…oh?
…
…could you not care less about gorou and the traveler being an item?
yae pursed her lips, feeling a bit sorry.
and gorou willingly chose to speak with yae—his most formidable foe—to escape this painfully awkward conundrum. “s-so what was it that you had to tell me, yae miko?”
“...oh, yes. the publishing house declined in sales since the disappearance of its foremost columnist, so i need you dressed up as our precious ms. hina for a magazine signing event.”
꒰ 🗒 series m.list | prev. chapter | next chapter ꒱
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x y/n#genshin impact x y/n#genshin x you#genshin impact x you#gorou x reader#kazuha x reader#scaramouche x reader#albedo x reader#fluff#crack#comfort#angst#stella writes — !#live to tell the tail
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thoughts on Akihiko Yoshida? hes done several greatest game of all time contenders but I still don't know how 2 feel about him tbh
I would rank him highly, although I do think his best work belongs to a bygone era. I've always had a lot of affection for Yoshida as the Square-affiliated artist most likely to describe form with profuse hatching. The original Tactics Ogre cover is one of my favorite pieces of game art:
I think he produced his most compelling work around this period, in collaboration with Hiroshi Minagawa, and more generally prior to the onset of HD development. I don't know how deeply involved he was with the process (Minagawa is credited as supervisor in both cases), but between Vagrant Story and Final Fantasy XII, his designs have been treated to the most compelling applications of texture mapping in the medium.
I also love the lush storybook style he adopted for Four Heroes of Light, and I wish that quality had carried more cleanly into Bravely Default.
His contributions to FFXIV are obviously accomplished but they don't really stand out in my mind due to their proximity to so many other artists on that project working in a style that roughly approximates his own. I think that's something that has muddled my impression of his work over the past decade, the glut of designers seemingly trained in his style, or the new prominence of those who simply came up in the industry working in a comparable idiom, usually in the Ivalice games. The deliberately abstracted faces contrasted with baroque or luxuriously rendered dress, the almost exclusive use of earth tones etc. It's evident everywhere from certain of Kazuya Takahashi's key art in FFXVI to Naoki Ikushima's entire corpus of Yoshida-lite emulations, even Hideo Minaba's work on Granblue Fantasy.
At one point this was a perfect triangular complement to the sectors defined by Amano and Nomura, but as we recede further and further from any remaining stylistic imprint of the former and all the appealing extravagance is bled from the latter, a sort of repetitious sameness sets in. It's no fault of Yoshida's, and I think his own work still consistently outshines his "imitators", but it probably accounts for my cooler feelings of late.
As an aside, the guy has definitely indulged his predilections to a greater degree as time goes on. He's settled on an anatomical template for his female characters that I find vaguely disquieting, as evinced in this Tomb Raider illustration. That one has especially chitinous proportions, but most of it is basically just, like... hippy zettai ryoiki shit. A fetish so mild that it's one step removed from being really 'into' big titties. Guys with active accounts across multiple booru image boards will be cranking their shit to 2B for long and silent aeons, when even the memory of man is only a shadow over the wine-dark sea.
I would still like another game where he's allowed a fuller reign over design responsibilities. Like Nomura, he's reached a position of seniority that precludes him from designing anything beyond a few core characters and some key art, leaving the heft of the work to younger artists or middle-talents like Roberto Ferrari. Hopefully he'll be on tap for something other than Nier Automota phone games or FFXIV package illustrations or whatever the fuck Little Noah: Scion of Paradise is supposed to be. Damn, videogames are rough! This shit is not cooking!
#ask#akihiko yoshida#final fantasy#tactics ogre#vagrant story#nier automata#hiroshi minagawa#naoki ikushima#hideo minaba
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Remember Me, Special Dreams
Part XIX.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25
GIF: Originally posted by @
Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)
Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.
Word Count: 1.7k
A/N: Hello there, hope you are well. It’s been frosty and snowy in the UK over the past few of days and it is making everything look so pretty. How about you, what’s your weather behaving like? Also, please prepare yourself for massive feels in this one. Take care, all my love, Saskia <3
Sandman Masterlist
-----------------
You awaken naturally when the sun begins to cast a glow and warmth into your bedroom.
There's a smile on your face. You feel so light and airy.
Images of your time in Fiddler’s Green with Morpheus flash behind your eyelids. The way the sunlight touched his face, carving out his cheekbones. The rosy pink of his lips as they were upturned by his contentedness. The lustre in his eyes as he watched you drink in the beautiful nature around you. How he had sat so still and serene when you had explored the celestial scenes inside his coat.
The kisses too. You can feel your mouth tingling from them, despite the fact that it had technically happened inside your head.
Morpheus’ technique was faultless; there was the correct amount of pressure and yield between you both, and the fact that you hadn’t gone any further, it was refreshingly mature. You were no longer a hedonistic teenager and he was definitely not either, if he ever had been one.
What surprises you the most is that you don’t feel frightened by this development. Before, you had admonished yourself for kissing him and had sought to contain your less than platonic feelings, yet kissing him had felt like the right thing to do.
The two of you clearly shared a mutual attraction. Why else would Morpheus have initiated it?
You grin widely, it is impossible to suppress.
Were physical interactions with humans going to pale in comparison from now on? Based on the satisfaction you currently felt, it was looking highly likely.
You reach up to swipe at an itch on your nose. Something strange is found there; a soft disc. You open your eyes to inspect the object.
A petal is sticking to the pad of your index finger.
A cherry blossom petal.
You then notice the Sakura scent that is dispersing around you. It is luscious, but it shouldn't be there.
Adrenaline forces you up into a seated position.
There's pink everywhere. On every surface. Sticking to your exposed skin. Caught in your hair.
Realisation dawns on you with a stomach dropping shock.
You've just pulled some of the dream through into the waking world.
"Fuck!" You curse out loud.
With flitting thoughts, you are going back through the past few days to try and find a trigger.
There's nothing bad.
No confidence knocking incidents at work, or disquieting news, nor fear inducing encounters.
If anything, you have been the opposite of bad. You have been happy. Morpheus had seen to that.
Perhaps too well, it now seemed.
“Fuck,” you repeat again, more quietly.
***
It takes you hours to clean your room. You resort to scooping the petals into a bucket and then depositing them into the compost bin by your front door. It is tiring but at least the manual task gives you time to think about things.
You reach the conclusion that it is intense emotions of any kind that causes your ability to manifest.
You know you must tell Morpheus of what you did but after the events of last night, you are somewhat conflicted.
There is care and affection and understanding between you. Friendship. A considerable achievement based on how precarious your association had been at one time. The thought of shattering such a fragile thing, a thing that indicated the beginnings of an attachment, you cannot bear it. And when you factor in the other friendships you have forged in the Dreaming...
When all the debris is cleared, you sit dejectedly on your bedroom floor. Various courses of action are followed through to completion in your mind. You do this repeatedly, agonising over minute details in the hope that you can figure it out. Yet the only thing you settle on is this:
There is just one route that can be taken.
When it reaches night time, you heave your leaden frame into bed. You close your eyes and picture him in your mind.
"Morpheus." You whisper. “I need to talk to you but I don't think it is safe for me to come to the Dreaming.”
You are pulled under in a matter of minutes.
You are standing in a void.
An inky, echoing void, painted in hues of twilight, deepening into midnight the further you look. You are unable to locate a boundary in the barren space.
Morpheus emerges from the darkness.
“Where are we?” Your voice echoes eerily.
"A place outside the usual boundary of the Dreaming."
"And the dreamers will be safe from me here?"
"Yes," he utters the word with total reassurance.
You release the breath you had been holding with a shaky exhalation.
"You are distressed, Y/N," he states, drawing closer to you. “Has someone hurt you?”
You shake your head. Your heart constricts uncomfortably as you prepare to divulge the terrible information.
“I pulled part of last night’s dream through into my bedroom. The blossom from the trees.”
From the disturbed expression on his face, this was something that Morpheus had not anticipated being able to transpire.
“You have not been stressed,” he reasons.
“I know.”
“And I did not feel any disturbances in the structure of the Dreaming.”
It suddenly dawns on you however, that you had been trembling; you had reasoned it to be because of the coat but maybe there had been something else at play.
“You have to do something,” you say firmly.
He shakes his head. “I am forbidden from taking action against a human who is not an active threat.”
Your voice rises in pitch, “What about this do you not consider an active threat?”
“I will find a way to handle this,” his tone implies he is trying to shut the conversation down.
This only riles you further. “No. You have to take away my ability to dream.”
He blinks and processes your statement. “I will not. To sever you from the Dreaming, it would take away so much of what it means to be human. I could not do that to you.”
“So you would rather see me dead?” You blurt out.
Pain and confusion flicker in his eyes.
“Matthew told me how vortexes are usually handled. I may not be one, but I know that I pose a serious threat to the Dreaming and that you must neutralise it.”
You begin to intellectualise out loud. “The function of sleep is not to dream but to rest and repair the brain and body, and process the day's events. As long as I can still do those things, it doesn't matter whether I can dream and I’m fairly certain that is the case otherwise you would have already mentioned that.”
You look Morpheus straight in the eyes, challenging him with the stubbornness of your gaze. “Am I right?”
His mouth falls into a severe line. “You are correct. Your health would not be compromised.”
It’s all the confirmation that you need to feel like you are making an informed decision, yet it doesn’t stop him from making a last ditch attempt to sway your resolve.
One of his hands twitches towards yours as if he wants to touch you.
“If I cut you off from the Dreaming, you will turn your back on all the relationships you have made here. You will be unable to visit the places that bring you comfort. I would-”
“I know,” you interrupt, forcing back a sob. “Of course I would miss the life I’ve built here. It’s all I’ve been thinking about since the moment I woke up.”
You can see that it is going to take more than that to persuade him so in your desperation, you begin to lie about your feelings. You hate yourself immediately for doing it.
“That being said, I can't live in a dream forever. I have a life in the waking world. The only reason I am here in the first place, with such awareness, is because of a malfunction in my brain. You have to let me go."
He turns away from you, taking a deep breath.
“There is no other way. You know I am right,” you persist verbally and move to keep his face in view. “It’s the only way to protect your realm.”
His face is blank.
“Please, Morpheus,” you are almost begging now. “I don't want to hurt anyone again.”
Time crawls sluggishly as you wait on tenterhooks for his answer.
Begrudging acceptance takes his features. He eventually nods in defeat and takes two steps backwards. Anguish seeps from his form.
When he looks at you again, the familiar and comforting blue of his eyes has gone, replaced by a shining silver. It’s like the eyeshine seen in nocturnal animals when a light catches their retinas.
The effect unsettles you.
His coat suddenly whips in the wind, each movement casting shadow shapes into the space around and between you.
He extends his right arm and for the first time, you feel his power in its undiluted form. It warps every molecule creating a chimera curtain across the confines of your body.
The temperature is tepid, inoffensive, however the intensity is stunning. You choke back a vocalisation of discomfort, stifling it into a shaky whimper.
Numbness takes your fingers and toes before travelling up your limbs.
The boundless energy pushes deeper into your chest, concentrating in the space a few centimetres below the hollow of your throat.
Realisation dawns on you with heartbreaking clarity. There is such thing as a human soul, and Morpheus was about to breach yours.
There is resistance. Painful resistance. You close your eyes, urging the strain to dissipate. You know that you will not be able to withstand it much longer yet you know you cannot give up now.
The tension snaps.
Your eyes fly open.
Morpheus' face jumps.
Everything that he needs to consume rushes out.
You feel the entire agonising loss of it.
It is over in a matter of seconds.
Then everything stills.
Morpheus lowers his hand.
It is done.
You feel like you are falling.
Morpheus moves forwards quickly, arms outstretched as if to break your fall but no feeling of being caught ever comes.
You instead wake in your room with a sickening jolt.
Rivers of tears are tracking down your cheeks and strangled cries bubble out of your throat.
You had done the right thing and you knew it. But it didn’t stop you from feeling like you were shattering into millions of pieces.
Morpheus was unreachable.
The dream was over.
-----------------------
A/N II: I’m really sorry.
--------------
"Forget the horror here. Leave it all down here. It's future rust and then it's future dust."
Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998 @dotieeee @ponyboys-sunsets @fangirlmary @littledollll @fatimakinney @jamiethenerdymonster @rosaren2498 @mr-sandman-bring-me-a-dream @madiebear @sandman-33 @sallysal9 @asiludida164 @elf-punk @grungeisntmything
#The Sandman#Sandman#the sandman netflix#the sandman 2022#the sandman imagine#morpheus#morpheus x reader#morpheus/dream#morpheus/dream x reader#dream#dream x reader#dream of the endless#dream of the endless x reader#the dreaming#the endless#The Sandman Fanfic#the sandman fic#fanfiction#fanfic#Fanfiction series#tom sturridge#angst#romance#slow burn#reader insert#the sandman x reader#sandman x reader#Spotify#saskia writes sandman
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