#it was an experience and as painful as it is im glad in a way it IS two girls because for an otherwise trashy anime it sure did open my eye
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kiss me goodnight
Father, me and big brother are home! We bought something for dinner!
A carp by the lake, and potatoes from the land!
A cut on the back, and fleshes of the dead!
pt.1 | pt. 2
pairing: mallesilmal. wc 2,5k
pls read!! warning: suicidal ideation, angst, mcd, gore. woundfucking, double d mal, deepthroat but instead of d it's malmal's slitted tongue
Their private liturgy continued for weeks, and many moons of crops seems to have passed. Silver will come to the castle every single day without fail, like a devoted loyal servant to its master. Everytime he entered the chamber, may forms of torment ensues, sometimes with different motions, sometimes different organs. His Lord would disassemble his body parts and arrange it back in one piece, of the exact strand and order, all without a miss. Yet none of that seemed to kill him, whether inside nor outside, as his soul seemed to resonate with his Lord as it all felt was only grief, grief, and grief.
Even as the time goes, all was fleeting. Time went in a blink of an eye, and the longer he stride by the riverbanks of time, the more his life feels less ‘living’. Everyday life felt so dull, and deep down he knows he could never go back to how he once were. Of sunshine in the woods, waiting for his father’s arrival. Of those days they went hunting and foraging the forest for herbs and, much to Silver’s dismay, ‘strange ingredients’ his father likes to pick along the way home. Of evenings after sparring with Sebek by the backyard, hopefully wishing for his Lord’s arrival to join them for dinner so they could tuck his father’s cooking somewhere else or gave it to the forest animals.
Those times of much simpler life,
When his father was around.
Now, he’s left with nothing but a gaping wound in his heart
Unattended, lacerated and disfigured; those who see the way it is now could even hardly believe it was once a full, beating heart- as the state of it now much resembles a lump of blood clot rather than a formerly functioning organ
Yet, even after all those agony it went through, it still beats
It still beats.
Oh, how he hated the sound of it
The pounding in his veins. Steady rhythm of blood circulating throughout his bloodstream, intact, splattering only when his Lord’s claws are inside of him. Everytime his Lord disassembles his insides, he would always hoped, prayed that maybe his heart will forget a beat amidst all these bodily pain that envelops him. Perhaps his lung would be oh so kind to stop functioning altogether, or the insides of his skull would self-destruct itself.
But his heart keeps pounding on and on
A sick reminder that he’s still alive, unable to be reunited with his father
He’s been so, so close to the edge, why can’t he just die already?
Is his Lord’s healing magic too powerful? Why isn’t the reaper here yet? Can’t he just go, all these are making his patience running thin.
He wonders how many times should he play this twisted tug-of-war game with death, to which he always dreams of losing.
So when another being sarted being present during their private sessions, it sparked hope inside Silver.
He knew his time was creeping in closer, because not even His Lord’s omnipotent magic could ever prolong something as sacred as defying mortality. He smiled genuinely for the first time in years, leaving each of their meetings with a content feeling instead of the usual despair. His Lord would question about it someyimes, to which Silver would reply with his signature sincere half-smile
…to which Silver began to think
….what would His Lord became of, once that he is gone?
Would His Lord be abe to cope with the grief that follows? After such a huge loss he experienced already?
Silver might not be the brightest in terms of social cues or delving into people’s hearts and peering into their feelings, but one thing he does know: His Lord wouldn’t be able to handle it well
After all, if he did so, then their classified rites wouldn’t happen in the first place. Or turning into a daily basis, for that matter. To top it all, the kingdom would be brought into an even major calamity, lest his Lord were faced for another grief in his sight. That narrows the questions in his head down to a singular one:
How do he drag his Lord down with him?
tic-toc, the clock is ticking. As the figure that overshadows their chamber turned clearer each passing day, Silver is vigilant that he doesn’t have much time left. Bearing only one solution in mind, he enters their solemn chamber, preparing for a gamble of life and death. A russian roulette he invented on his own.
And he finally came down with his own plan.
Yes, this would surely suffice
The night was cleared of its clouds, moon shining softly amongst the starry skies. The walk to the castle was not long, but Silver decided to slow down for a bit.
It is his last day after all, as the reaper had been clearly visible to the touch
This night would be the final one, and as dawn rolls he would be graced by his one true love
His took his steps thoughtfully, absorbing the sceneries before him mindfully. The walk from his tiny little cottage in the woods that will soon be abandoned. The owls and crows and other animals cooing him along the way, as if muttering mournful goodbyes. How the castle gates lowered at the sight of him, without him needing to announce his presence. The castle staff & maids that bowed down respectfully, seeing as how they might’ve perceived him as some sort of hero for diverting their Lord’s grief, not knowing the very same person would bring an end to the exact Lord they worshiped
Mustering his resolve, he entered the chamber, where his Lord awaits patiently. A soft breath of flame welcomes him, as both candles and chandeliers alike lit up. Lavish banquet upon the table, grand as always. Everything’s the usual, except for-
Except for the the eagerness pulsating his chest, as from today onward he would no longer be within despair’s grasp
It ends today
All the pain and anguish, he shall bring it all down with him
Feeling the blade brushed against his thighs, he returned the warm welcome with a smile. That his Lord was taken aback no longer matters, this is the requiem after all! It should be enjoyed to its finest, doesn’t it?
And so their usual liturgy began. Although Silver would prefer calling this one their ‘Rite of Parting’. It had a nicer ring into it, or so he thought. He locked his gaze upon those pair of emerald locket that adorns his Lord’s face, oh such grace it was for being able to witness this lustrous sight before one departs. His Lord, having the time of his life- obliterating all grief and sorrow as his fangs bared upon his chest, talons ripping apart skin to skin.
Starting off with his undeformed obsidian claws slitting the upper part of his body, as the other slips itself into Silver’s underneath. The moment Silver’s heart laid bare, his Lord proceeds to kiss them gently, lengthy tongue tending every single row of his ribs, slipping beneath to savor the delish taste of iron from its splitting ends. His Lord was always a man of patience, and so he goes, moving supple palms ever so gracefully,
But Silver was not.
Not this time, at least.
He’s so eager– eager to the touch, to the taste, to the end. His patience is growing thinner by each passing moment, and for the first time in Seven knows how long; he refused to relent. Instead, his hands grazed to his Lord, tracing him all ever so softly and at the same time greedily– as if those touches would suffice his hunger. And his Lord, the ever-so-thoughtful of his people, complies
‘Eager today, aren’t we?’
He mutters under his breath, as consciousness gradually grew adrift; drunk by the touch. As much as he enjoyed the delectable taste of his cherished subject, he constantly tasted this mournful flavor from him. Something he probably didn’t realize had been consuming him progressively over the course of time, something he understood so well. He never minded this notion though, as Silver’s mere form was more than sufficient to scrape off the remaining grief sadness of his beloved spouse’s parting
However, that is alright
They would surely come back someday, right? They are merely sleeping for a little while. One day they will arise hearty and buoyant like how they always been, thus announcing their presence with the warmest smile as they jumped into his arms, fondling their hands upon his towering form lovingly. And he would lower down, reciprocate their lush affection and pepper them with the gentlest of kisses he’d been saving up these whole decades, centuries even, and—
The gentle caress on his neck, sliding down his throat onto his chest dragged him back to what’s laid in front of him. Just like a prey offering himself to the hunter, although the fondness betwixt them begs to differ.
Observing the alluring blend of colors beneath him that stares straight into his eyes– into his heart, the dragon fae decides to give in. He would take his loyal knight’s offerings of course, as it would be heartless for a master to refuse such sincere. And so concede he did, unrestraining the constraint of his dual cock. Going slow at first, he enters the first into Silver’s hole, pushing its full length in one single thrust. A slight moan slips his ashen lips as he positioned his next one, eyes interlocking with the remnants of saliva dangling between ribs beneath him. Those translucent silk, paving the path into the other’s heart was clearly his invitation to attend; and so as a profound noble that he is, proceeds to fulfill that lustrous invite.
Gently, he made way between the limbs; and as his first was already spasming between Silver’s tight walls, his second was getting harder by each passing cartilage. They only seemed to grow in size as he goes on, and the more it gets tighter down there; what’s his jostling with Silver’s liver, lungs, and pancreas as he slowly but surely making his way into his heart, Silver giggles
Silver giggles.
Dear Sevens and the Great Thorn Fairy above, how many decades has it been since he heard those sweet giggles? Was it when Lilia first discovered that humans are ticklish and tried it on his own son, which he later joined during, laughing heartily as the three of them enjoyed Silver’s playtime just as much as him? Or was it oh his birthday, when he got a whole pie thrown at him for the sake of good luck? Perhaps it was when both he and Sebek welcomes them home after their trip into some faraway land, and offers them homemade cookies that was slightly burnt; where Lilia said his cookies are more exceptional and much better, to which Silver only replied with a stifle laugh, giggly smile adoring his petite form
Which one was it?
Does it even matter?
As his second finally reached its final destination, he let out a hearty laugh, as if reciprocating those once long-lost giggles. But that matters not now, what’s important is how to satisfy the proprietor of those alluring sound. Thus, he picks up the pace, brimming even more enthusiastically with two pairs of fangs procuring first row seat of the show, as moonlit strands gradually grew flushed in span of seconds. The delicate touch of callused hands began to pepper his back, crystal nails flourishing in crimson as they dug deeper and deeper. Those luscious voices only got sweeter the more he progresses, constantly moaning as the other succumbs into the bliss of his holy cock. They both inches closer and closer, both the ones inside & below the ribs, and so does Silver’s which he enveloped in his palms. Shiny black claws fondled with the tip, smothering delicately to the strings leaked from its source, before it finally bursts. and so does his own, outflowing the tight walls that of Silver’s, as the realms between his organs turned into a colorful mixture of sweat, blood, tears and other salty liquids. Both delve into the pleasure of release once more, and they would both be lying if they said that it wasn’t the most passionate one they’ve ever had all these time.
Their most passionate one
Which would also be the first and the last.
Silver glance onto his side, and there was them. The reaper, in all his mightiness and sorrow and glory and whatever hopes it brings for Silver to devour. It’s now or never, so he put up his sweetest smile, one that his father would always sings praises and adore whenever he did
‘My Lord, would you be so kind as to give me one last kiss before we depart?
A single good night kiss would suffice’
‘Why of course, cherished one. As a gift, I would be glad to fulfill your desire’
So their tongue intertwined, his Lord’s split tongue peered slowly as he opened the gates into throat. He pulled as to lower him and holds him closer, and two tips of dragon tongue dances around. Twirling, enveloping his little one if compared to that of his Lord’s. It goes deeper as the length fulfill every room of his mouth, down into his throat, and needless to say he was satisfied. He towered above him, and so does the reaper: now hanging behind his Lord, creeping in- this is it. This is the time, as he unseath the blade he’d been keeping, and he thrust
Deep. Red. Black. Dripping, waltzing and oozing together ever so beautifully
His Lord was about to laugh of humor, did his loyal subject, all knowing of how robust he was, really think that this mere mutiny could end him? If it did, he would’ve did it himself ages ago
But there was something else
As Silver thrusts deeper, he feel it seeps into his streams, light magic overflowing and tainting his fae blood. There’s no mistaking it- it’s the same magic that emanates from Silver’s passed down ring, one that Lilia stashed along with the greatest gift in the whole world— according to him. The very same that ended his mother.
To end with the exact same way of his beloved mother he never got the chance to meet
This is beautiful
And so he gave in. Letting go as his magic that cloaks their surroundings dissipates, including the ones veiled Silver’s form. The taller frame finally succumbs and sank. Glints of effulgent hangs upon his head, and in those final moments, pressed a smile onto his Lord’s lips; as warmth slips and bodies deteriorates.
This time, surely, his father would be overjoyed
Father, me and big brother are home! We bought something for dinner!
A carp by the lake, and potatoes from the land!
A cut on the back, and fleshes of the dead!
#if u squint; the reaper could be perceived metaphorically or literally#like myb it exists in twst. but not everybody can see it (except silver here)#or it cld be silver's hallucinations cz.. hes just desperate i guess...?#I MEAN what's keeping silver alive despite those gruesome things were malleus' magic right#he merely did those swish-swosh thing tht he did back at VDC#returning & reforming everything back in its place#so since he's gone and no one's there to prevent silver from deteriorating-#thats why the reaper wouldnt 'slash' him for so long; only doing so after silver's done w/ his blade#bc it's all in his head!! haha#AAAAAHHHH ITS FINALLY DONEEE#im so. so glad#ths is probably my proudest creation so far#rlly made me squeeze my brain out on 'how do i implement this kind of things'#experimented a lot writing ths#n tryin out many new things!!#new prompt!#new theme!#new agony *laughs in pain*#it rlly challenged my usual writing style (in a good way!!)#ANYWAYS regardless of the result#IM SO PROUD OF ME FOR TRYING#N ACTUALLY FINISHING IT#overall i had fun writing this 🥰#altho i didnt make it in time..#anyways happiest birthday silver 🥳🎉🎊#okay im done talking#hope u enjoy!!#mallesil#malleus draconia#silver
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TW; Themes of depression , Self loathing & Implication/mentions of self harm
It wasn’t her lycanthropy that made her feel like a monster, it was but her own damaged heart and inner demons.
And So she ran away - believing her very presence was a burden too heavy to carry, if only to protect her loved ones from her own demise - No matter how deeply she wanted to run back and crash into his embrace, no matter how deeply her heart yearned to accept his love.
#tw; depression#tw; self harm themes#Heavy themes#Ventart#Vilkas#werewolf oc#Werewolves#werewolf dovahkin#Dovahkin oc#I've been processing alot of heavy things yesterday...ones i felt most fitting to express through Ravens story#it wasnt easy...but im glad i did it#finding comfort through storytelling has been a healthy way to both express and reflect on it all#theres so much i have to say about this encounter and its backstory...But so much of it relates to my own personal struggles#lycanthropy and themes of self control/self hatred...its been weaved through Raven ever since her creation#its as though it goes hand by hand. mirroring one another#I chose vilkas for this scene because of how much she can relate to his own experiences#Ive always headcanond vilkas' lycanthropy taking a great toll on his mental health#enough to leave him with very similar conflicts of wanting to tear away at everything#its such a painful hc but i imagine he always wears bandages around his arms to hide away self harm caused by when he tries to#fight against his lycanthropy and the call of the blood#both Raven and Vilkas have such a complex background and I really wnat to see how they can work through it with their relationship#i believe there will be a part two leading for a more hopeful ending... ;;#these two have so much to godamn deal with and i just want them to find happiness together#im so sorry for dropping such hurt/angst on your feed...Ill make up for it when i can#theres still alot to this scene that has been left untold and i want to share on the hopeful/loving resolution that follows.#they love each other alot. and theyll get through this. they always do#skyrim art shenanigans#skyrim#tes#werewolf angst
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Sometimes I think about my very short-lived experience watching Happy Sugar Life and how the only real potent "message" i got from it was through the fanbase with the realisation "wow okay so we are NOT past the 'women can't be paedophiles' narrative huh" because i remember so gleefully checking the comments only to be hit with shit like "they didn't have sex so i don't think it's paedophilia" or "given her past i don't think she INTENDED paedophilia" or the time i saw an rp blog for the mc like "I interpret it as platonic :)))" like mc wasn't dressing an 8 year old up in a wedding dress, grooming her, doing vows, kissing her on the mouth and making plans for how they'd elope and marry each other
Like okay, you're entitled to your interpretations ofc but at what point does it stop being an interpretation and start turning into cope because this is NOT the topic you want to do that with!!!!!!
#gu6chan's musings#the rp blog in PARTICULAR pissed me off (perhaps personally speaking as a mun who tries to be as BLUNT with this as possible) bc its like#some of yall really want to rp fucked up and problematic characters until they get actually fucked up and problematic; huh#like i get it we ALL have limits but MAYBE before tackling a subject so sensitive you could just..... maybe think 'this muse isn't for me'#instead of TAKING OUT THE MAIN FOCUS OF HER CHARACTER AND WIDDLING IT DOWN TO 'PLATONIC'???? do u know how insensitive that is to actual#grooming and CSA victims. maybe im overreacting!!!!! but literally; when it comes to this: do it straight or dont do it at all#it was an experience and as painful as it is im glad in a way it IS two girls because for an otherwise trashy anime it sure did open my eye#to how how high the bar needs to be set before women can be considered 'paedophiles' and not just 'awww; she's so fond of kids :)'#ESPECIALLY given the mandatory anime tragic backstory!!!! because the amount of people using that as justification as for why she WASN'T#seeing shio romantically was.... *crumples*#like yeah; right!!! bc as we all know victims don't become abusers at all and when they do theyre 100% aware of it#im just saying#y'all would NEVER have pulled this shit if it was being done with two dudes and it shows#'leonard isn't in LOVE with seere; he just made out with him in SR because he was projecting his grief. he doesnt know how to show it :('#<- how some of these bitches sounded fr#anyways its happy sugar life it's not that serious 😭 yall are still stupid tho
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today in the wild I came across a phrase to the effect "...And this [pair of ethical axioms about what constitutes quality of life for purposes of discussion about disability and coma prognosis, based on the opinion of one person who has not ever been in a coma or disabled thereafter] suggests that maybe, just maybe, [relevantly comatose or recovering or disabled] people may have quality of life sufficient to make them ethically relevant"
that's ... not, um, normally considered to be what makes people "ethically relevant" in the world where all the people are and there's sunshine and grass and things, but, you know what, ok jennifer, A for effort! :) gold star for you, philosopher extraordinaire, moral lodestar for people unsure what to do with granny, paragon of ethical conduct!
#they had to put me in a coma because i declined really fast after pediatric brain surgery#it was not a long coma by most standards but i had to get so so much physical and other therapy about it#like i was out here relearning to walk and speak it was a really long recovery#people like this are of an opinion that people like me are ~simply suffering too much~ to be ~ethically relevant~#which i think is a particularly shit form of pseudobenevolent ableism#what degree of pain do i have to experience before the invisible hand of Ethics decides i shouldn't be resuscitated if I fail#how much does my life get to suck before jennifer here decides it isnt worth living and what will that décision mean#objectively of course i was doing all of this in ukraine so the opinion of this ethicist-panelist would not have been worth anything at all#but i was so close to like being euthanized like a little mop dog#not formally exactly but my mom told me once that she thought about smothering me a lot while i was in recovery#and it was entirely because she was terminally theorybrained about suffering and life-quality in the same type of way#and if it were a medical availability i probably would not be here because i was so absurdly difficult and expensive to raise#and its just like man. i am begging you to remember the humanity of the subjects when you put these things in science papers#im having an ok morning globally i just want to blog about this on the internet to get the thing it brought back to me out of my system#i grew up with meaningful and painful disabilities + the fact that my neurology miraculously knit together into something “more workable” i#totally coincidental actually. what if it didnt? if it didnt + i was still in pain from the sun and wobbled like an earsick kitten then???#that was the thing here like there was a 70/30 chance I would have needed a talking board and power chair#i am glad i do not but i am also very sensitive about this type of covert desire to decide about their right to live for people who do#i dont remember a lot of my childhood but i remember a lot of that pity laced with something i can now identify as revulsion to my pain#and i remember that i didnt understand it and that all i wanted was to be like other kids who were wanted and hoped for and believed in#and i dont know like its an individual thing its a family thing whatever but yesterday i had a weird trauma memory moment#that was about being displaced a little bit#which is an awfully vulnerable thing to put here but i am not asking for your sympathy i am just saying i was tender and a bit insane#and then i stepped on this rake! good morning insane asylum 《sunshine》#today will be a better day than this#im going to make the tags froshgriping and froshplaks for my bitching and personal sniveling feel free to blacklist them#froshgriping#froshsniveling#froshplaks
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incredible.
#fun fact. this blog originally was gonna be my writing/secondary “main” blog#then the big reborn of mc happened on 2018 and well i wasnt using this one much. then i found abt hc around may 2019...#n yknow. i was very close to deleting this blog after the things from 2019#n in a way this thingy is pretty meaningless but. im glad this blog is still here to get to 10k posts :] and in a few days is new years!#n i said this a while ago but. things do get better. its sometimes painful to wait/work for things to get better yes. but ngl it is-#pretty peaceful now... and im glad to be here to experience it :D#zach barks
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yay weed
#the bin#i shoudk save my money but im not going to. this is the closest thing i have to antidepressants and actually effective pain killers so#whatever. it helps with my anxiety too. it helps with almost everything. unless im in a lot of pain and then it makes that pain way worse#if i have a more than minor headache then it makes that way worse and if something specific hurts really REALLY bad then its not good#but if not then it fixes most of my stuff. its temporary but it whaatever works :/ and the next day is usually pretty good too#its not THAT expensive. ive been getting the cheapest option around me and its not terrible. i wish i could have less but alas#i envy ppl who can do 10mgs and have it help and have a good time. i have 10mg and everything sucks#everything still hurts. my brain is still very much on. im just unable to see straight and my walking gets weird and my mouth gets dry#and nothing is enjoyable. it just sucks. 15 is ok but its not really worth it to me honestly. its kinda boring. if im soending this money#then it has to be good. better to have a much better experience than to save a little bit of money and have several less good ones#that are barely worth it anyway. hhh. my sister is being less weird abt it now at least.#i kinda fucking hate that this works so well but when i oull the 'it shuts my tourettes completely off' card ppl suddenly get very ok with#any amount i wanna have however often. its deeply insulting but also very expected. at least its convenient for me in this case#with my mom its not that insulting i guess. last time she was around mw very often my tics eere real bad and they were obviously very#unpleasant for me. but its mostly bc everything there was so stressful and overwhelming all the time and ut made it far worse#but shes actually pretty normal abt it. at leasts he is now#its rare that people are. ppl look at me like im inhuman. i try very very hard not to tic around people bc of this#the ppl im around rn dont look at me weird but ive hardly ever ticced in front of them.#getting high also helps my ocd so much which is huge. im glad when i move ill have a very not judgmental person to get it for me#at least my other older sister is very normal abt it. shes like yeha its ur body ur money ur choice. whatever man. and that s great.
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EDIT: if this post has made you think about whether or not you are autistic, im really glad! i hope you get some better understanding of yourself and are able to find community and support
however before you go and tell a therapist and seek an official diagnosis please read this thread and consider the points made therein:
autism is highly stigmatized. be fully informed about what you gain and what you lose from having an official diagnosis before seeking one.
EDIT OVER ENJOY THE POST
people do correctly identify that laios is autistic fairly often but a lot of the reasoning begins and ends with his special interest and social difficulties, but honestly it goes far deeper into the build of his character than just those two things
his pain tolerance is wildly inconsistent, unable to tolerate a drop of hot oil (or any heat) but able to shrug off both his leg being bitten off and it being reattached
hes sensory seeking in the extreme. he rubs the bat bones against his face, pets and fluffs the shapeshifter tail.
his desire to eat monsters comes from three very autistic places. 1) the rules for why monsters are not okay to eat but animals are are arbitrary to him so he cannot follow them easily: he cannot understand the 'feelings' argument others make. 2) this too is a sensory seeking behavior. he wants to experience these new things, new flavors and new textures. 3) it completes his knowledge of the monster in question to also have data on its edibility. because he cannot draw that arbitrary line around all monsters, he wants to evaluate them case-by-case and see if real patterns emerge. butchering and eating the monsters improves his knowledge of them greatly and highlights their importance in their ecosystem, as well as making him a part of that same ecosystem
he cannot emote the way others expect him to. he compartmentalizes his feelings (to an unhealthy degree) because he needs a pragmatic solution. so as long as there is a problem to solve, that matters far more than evaluating his emotions and allowing himself to experience them. while this is also a coping mechanism for ptsd, it is a trait found in many autistic people regardless of trauma, as we have trouble sorting the feelings we have and often need time to think about what we feel, so it becomes easier to simply not do it and pretend we dont need to. laios emotions certainly affect him, with or without his processing them, but others do not see what they expect to see and thus dismiss that he is feeling what they would feel
he is incredibly gifted with pattern recognition, observation, and analysis within realms he understands. to understand subjects that dont come easily to him, he must filter them through his established schema (his special interest--this is why they are so special! they help us sort the world). when he isnt sure about the social cues and details hes observed in the shapeshifter arc, he filters it through the lens he understands best: monsters. he was making correct observations about his friends all along, but he could not be confident in that the way he was about their behavior when it came to his interest (chilchucks caution, senshis passions, and marcilles carelessness)
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expand on ur "mental asylum Marxism shit" thing about children & grief?? from what you've said im pretty sure i will relate from my own experiences as a grieving child. also it sounds interesting!!
so i was thinking about how weird it is that, when a child has to deal with the death of a loved one, they say something like "no child should have to go through this! no child should have to even think about death!" which strikes me as weird because i was a child who dealt with the deaths of multiple close family members, very close together. the first was my great-grandmother, who i lived with and who was my best friend. death was never foreign to me (my mom has always been very death-positive on top of all that). grief was just part of my life like everything else was.
but i realized that its because people think childhood should not have any flaws. you should be 100% happy and fulfilled all the time. any time a child experiences anything painful, its bad. not "children should have access to love and support," but "children should not have basic life experiences because the idea of childhood being anything other than fluffy purity scares me."
because children in society are fundamentally not people. especially in a society structured around christian beliefs in natural law theory, that what is natural = what is good, healthy, and Divinely commanded. so on top of children being the property of adults, they are also forced to be the symbols of Nature. whatever is the most useful to whoever needs them. which means we built up this idea of children as tabula rasas, pureness incarnate. like a magic mirror where if we look into it, we'll be able to catch a glimpse of the true face of humanity. every single thing children do can be scrutinized for some grand truth about humans as a whole. and then, the ways children are treated also reflect how we think humanity should interact with its own nature.
example: the idea of humanity as inherently sinful and wicked, with that urge needing to be suppressed through state violence (hello hobbes) = the idea that children are annoying and shitty on purpose and need to be forced via punishment into being Good Citizens.
this is also why children cannot be trans, even though all trans people must prove that we were trans children. being queer must be unnatural; and even if not, its inherently sexual, and sexuality is dirty and bad. so children can't be trans, and they also can't read books on puberty until their parents decide when and what exactly they are allowed to learn. child victims of sexual assault only matter to the extent that they can be used as a symbol of a cultural threat; calling Jewish or trans people pedophiles means saying that they are foreigners attacking basic human nature, and indirectly, Divine command. if you aren't the right kind of victim, or when you inevitably reveal yourself to be A Person with complicated experiences and opinions, you are no longer of use to the agenda.
it sucks that bad things happen to anyone. aspects of youth can exacerbate the pain sometimes, but sometimes it does the reverse: I wish I could have spent more time with the family members I lost, but I know other people who are glad they loss family members young, because they weren't really hurt by it. I think the main thing is that, even sometimes when we talk about our past selves, we project this cultural idea of Child As Purity and ignore the actual person having the experience. when we "empathize" with children by projecting Purity onto them, we aren't actually connecting with them.
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† Salvation †
Read pt.1 and pt.2
†
Summary: finale of repent series! Drabble of abby and readers life after abby comes to terms with her sexuality. Happy ever after lesbos<3
Warnings: smut, MDNI, switch!abby, switch!reader, religion play of course, strap usage, refers to strap as cock, cunnilingus, overstimulation, bondage, smnophilia, dirty talk yurrrr, some fluff
A/N: thank you so much for all of the love on this series!! Religious guilt/trauma is a tricky subject and I’m glad that I was able to portray it in a light that most of you could relate or sympathize with. And yall im so bad at writing fluff that’s why this is so short lmao that’s why I only write smut. I’m so excited to write through more niche experiences and topics. Love you like always<3
†
That night was nothing like the first. Your God showed mercy, wrapping your cold, shaky body with cloth and carrying you to where it all started.
This time she held you and never left, she was there was the sun came beaming down, drying out your soaked hair. While you were asleep she had removed her cross and strung it along your neck. Maybe there was no need hold a token of a god she had already met, maybe she wanted everyone else to know- you never cared to question her antics.
After your mission had ended she immediately broke things off with Owen, reclaimed herself within the community. And she for one took no shit with the commentary from anyone about the two of you. Her life mission was to protect you at all costs now, you were all she knew. She wouldn’t leave your side anymore. Anything you did she made sure she was there to protect you, she wouldn’t put your life in anyone else’s hands but her own.
There was a lot of things you had to teach Abby, and by teach, that meant showing her with your legs wide open. On a mission you both were sent out on to look for resources you ran across a run down sex shop. You found a girthy dildo with black leather straps, it was bigger than anything you’d ever taken but with the look of excitement on Abby’s face you couldn’t say no to her. You told her you could use it on her but she insisted on fucking you right there over the counter at the dusty sex shop. She wasted no time dragging your pants down to your ankles and ripping your panties seams to get inside, ”I’d tell you to suck my cock first but you’re so fucking wet already, how bad have you wanted this,hmmm?” She promised she’d go slow, walking you through it, “fuck you’re doing so good, taking me so well for your first time.” After your pain had been replaced with sheer pleasure she couldn’t hold back anymore, pumping into you so hard there was sure to be bruises all over your hips. After abusing your hole for an hour for her own amusement she finally let you cum while drawing circles around your swollen clit as she pounded deep and slow thrust into you. you were so cockdrunk she had to carry you back to the truck and finish the mission herself, it went by quickly as she imagined things she could do to you next with her cock.
She loved showering with you at night, she never let you lift a finger, washing your body gently after sneaking in the strap into the showers. Maybe it was because she learned how to fuck you in the showers that it made her so dominant in that environment. She wouldn’t let you touch her in there even after you begged her while she pinned your arms against the wall, overstimulating your clit over and over again until she was done with you. After she’d run you a bath and hold your fragile body as she ran soapy strips up and down your bruised skin, making sure to kiss every inch so that never missed an atom of your being.
Abby only regressed back into her old ways when she let you take complete control. She’d let you tie her to the bed you shared edging her till she was in tears, babbling prayers to climax. You’d tie her cross necklace around her clit and tug on it while you used your tongue to fuck her dripping hole. You’d only let her cum after she got on her knees like a whore eating away at your cunt while you shamed her for her sins.
Your life with abby wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced before, but there was no before her, or after her. There was only your god, and hers.
Maybe she had still repented for her sins, maybe she had reached salvation at the mercy of your own sins.
Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson2 @lanafresitas @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed
#abby anderson#abby anderson smut#the last of us#abby x fem!reader#abby x reader#abby anderson tlou2#abby angst#abby the last of us#abby tlou#sub abby
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Ur the best sub Leon writer soooo… idk if you seen these but ppl treat las plagas parasite as sex pollen 😭 and I’m so here for it.
Concept : re4 leon infected by the parasite OK but he starts out very agressive but ofc he’s a sub so he does whatever reader wants in order to yk… achieve the goal of the parasite (breeding 😔 who said that? Not me) And pls make the reader mean, I love mean femdoms sm, they are chefs kiss. If you need more clarification post it I’ll send another one idk but I’m just seeing what YOU come up with. LOVE UR WRITING btw I love how it’s pretty in character tbh cuz I read ur bully Leon one and I was like “yeah fr like he’s too caring to be a bully 💀”
OMG WAIT MY DUMBASS FORGOT TO ADD: you said smth so mean to him that he came too early. He was so sorry for coming early and the mess he made in you But then he continued to keep going trying to pump more- OK SORRY
the BEST?? idk about that but i shall take ur compliment and deliver to you only my best work so thank u bestie i appreciate it sm !! ^-^
las plagas is crazy cuz like the black veins, the loss of control with your physical body, the pain it causes… that’s literally so hot. leon was so fuckable all of re4 but especially in the scenes where his body is being controlled that man is SCRUMPTIOUS
also just so you know. the veins on his dick are black as well ♡
no pronouns mentioned, afab parts mentioned, plaga leon has to be a top im sorry (technically in straight relationships men are always topping unless u count pegging BUT in this context i mean he’s a top more like ‘he’s a sub but he’ll fuck u stupid’ like that’s the vibe)
you spot his blonde hair from across the hall, running over to him excitedly. thank god you found him.
“leon!” you call out, grabbing the attention of the man in question, as you catch up to him. finally finding him in this nightmarish place after getting separated was the best thing possible, “holy crap, i’m so- i’m so glad you’re okay— woah, what… what happened to you?”
he takes a cautious step back, still seemingly holding a little bit of control over his body, “they said it was a gift in my…. my blood… don’t know what the fuck that was about..”
you take a step forward, reaching out your hand to touch his face, fingers tracing the black lines that were once veins invisible to the naked eye. but he stops you, his hand roughly grabbing your wrist, “don’t.”
“don’t… what?” you ask nervously, shoulders slumped.
“you need to… stay away from me,” he groans from pain, and you’re too worried to listen to his words, “stop, get away from me, you— i could hurt you! i don’t want to hurt you…”
but you don’t listen to him, betraying his wishes by shaking off his grip and reaching your hand out again. he can’t try to stop you this time. he moans, actually moans, when your fingertips touch his face, caressing him softly.
“really? it’s that good?” you ask with a small smirk on your face. leon thinks he could die.
“f-fuck…” he mumbles, finally coming closer to you. his hands wrap around your waist as he leans in for a kiss that you’re not ready for, and you both stumble backwards while you try to ground yourself.
he’s getting rough, aggressive, and you need to push back a little or else he’ll consume you entirely. not that you’d mind.
“leon, ease up,” you whisper, pushing him back slightly, and when a growl escapes his throat, you know he’s clearly not in any state to listen, “leon.”
he annoyedly makes eye contact with you, trying his best to listen to what you’re about to say. he is trying, and that’s the worst part. this is him at his most gentle, most restrained.
“you need to listen to me, okay? can you do that?” you ask softly, hand against his chest to keep him from diving too deep into you, and pressing a kiss to his lips. it’s softer. he moans into your mouth needily, but you don’t let him get rough. instead you sweetly get the taste of him. sure, it’s not a delicious taste, but he’s a delicious experience.
you enjoy the way he’s trying so intensely to control and contain himself, for your sake. he knows what you want from him is not his full fledged desires out in the open, completely unchecked.
when you pull away, he looks wrecked already, “please, you can’t do this to me, not if you’re just going to walk away and leave me desperate.”
part of you wants to reassure him. i’m not going to leave you. i would never abandon you when you need me most. but the other part just wants to ravage him, take all of him for yourself, leave nothing of him left but the perfection you’ve created. perfection in your eyes. maybe he’s not the only one infected with some kind of tainted desire.
instead, to accomplish both, you kiss him again, letting your own intensity and desire take over, potentially overpowering his. he whimpers, his shaky hands holding your hips for stability. he’s not being grossly possessive and rough like before. he’s softer now, pliable.
when you pull away, you whisper, “we need to get somewhere safe.”
“wha… what?”
“i need to take my time with you, and we’re not safe out in the open like this…” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to that sweet spot right below his ear. it’s so cute how truly weak leon is right now. sure, that’s always been his weakness, but it’s elevated multiple times over by this parasite in his blood. you have half the mind to thank that weird cult.
when you find a safe room, you’re immediately back on him, pushing him against the wall, enjoying the way he whimpers as you kiss him, his need for you multiplying by the minute.
“please, please, i need you, i need you so fucking bad, please, i need to take you, need to make you mine, need to—”
“shut up,” you groan, fingers roughly grabbing his jaw, pushing his head back and away from you, “you’re going to be good, or you won’t get what you want. i don’t care how badly you fucking need me, you’re going to be patient. you’re going to be nice and obedient or you’ll get nothing from me. and that little parasite inside of you is horrified at the idea that you won’t get to fuck my pretty pussy, hm?”
he looks pathetic, moaning like a whore at just some words, but it’s the way you say them, the way you say them, that kills him. he eventually calms himself down enough to nod with his eyes shut tightly, “i’ll do whatever you say. you know that.”
“lay down on the floor,” you command, almost growling back at him, and he opens his eyes in surprise.
“what?”
“you heard me. on the ground, beneath me, right now, leon,” your eyes narrow at him, enjoying the way he weakly sinks to his knees before sitting down completely and laying back.
“like this..?” he asks, confused. he doesn’t know what’s about to happen, and that excites him immensely.
you take off your belt with all your utility tools and your jeans along with it. then finally, your underwear. he looks up at you with wide, delicious eyes.
he asks so sweetly, even though he knows the answer, “are you… are you gonna make me..?”
“yeah, you are. i’m going to sit down on your pretty, pretty face and you’re going to enjoy every second of being beneath me, where you belong, servicing me, and making me cum.”
his heart skips a beat at the thought of belonging beneath you, “yeah, fuck, okay—”
“—and you’re not going to fucking talk until i cum, got it?”
he nods, and once you sit down upon your throne, he gets right to work. he laps up the fluids of your cunt like a dog, working tirelessly, sucking on your clit and tongue fucking you. this is his place. he deserves nothing more than to be here with you, caving to your every desire even if all of his thoughts include breeding you and getting you pregnant with his babies. he’d do anything you asked if he could just have that.
he’d be at your service, at your mercy, until you chose to give him what he wanted.
but he makes you cum so fucking hard that it’s impossible to not give him what he wants, especially when rough hands grab onto your thighs as you’re cumming and he’s still giving you the head of your life through your orgasm. he grabs you just to stabilize you, but also to be possessive.
he can’t help how bad he’s gotten about jealousy and possessiveness with this parasite. he’s never been the jealous boyfriend, knowing you could hold your own and you’re loyal and stuff, but something about the way he looks at you now is different. it’s deep and primal. he looks at you like he needs to have you, and no one else can.
it’s insanely hot, but it’s also inconceivable how uncontrollable those urges are. leon has good self control, and you notice it in how he’s acting. again, this is him at his most restrained. he’s trying to keep himself from pouncing on you, taking everything he wants from you because he knows you don’t want that.
somewhere deep inside of him, he’s still himself, still that awkward and dorky guy that just wants to love you and give you everything you want. you wouldn’t want that.
when you roll off of him, laying down next to him to give yourself a moment to recover, you press a kiss to his shoulder, a sign that it’s an act, your harshness isn’t real. he returns the gesture by kissing the top of your head. a sign that he acknowledges your motives.
“please,” he whimpers suddenly, startling you out of your daze as his hand caresses your back softly, “i’ll let you control everything, you can do whatever you want with me, but fucking please, i’m so desperate to put my cock inside of your pussy, baby. i can’t think straight, and i’m trying so damn hard to control myself but i won’t be able to much longer…”
“yeah? you wanna put your cock inside of me? feel it throb inside the wetness and warmth of my cunt, fill me up with—”
he cuts you off with a loud moan, his hands grasping onto you and his eyes shutting tightly at the thought of such pleasure. he looks wrecked at the mere mention of cumming inside of you. you obviously have to capitalize on this fact.
“oh? so it’s the filling me up part, isn’t it? the ‘gift’ you have makes you really want to cum inside me, hm?” you say, smirking cruelly at him, watching his resolve crumble as he moans shamelessly, “do you want… breed me, leon?”
he gasps, breathing heavily. he’s incredibly wound up, and now you know the real reason he’s insatiable and uncontrollable, “f-fuck, i— it’s not that i want to, it’s that i need to… i need to fuck you and breed you so damn bad, i—”
you cover his mouth with the palm of your hand, enjoying the way he groan in pleasure when you straddle him. god, he’s not even inside of you, but he looks fucked out. he looks he’s about to burst already.
“god, you’re so fucking desperate,” you mumble to him, leaning in closer to whisper to him despite having him muzzled with your hand. not that he’d ever hurt you, he would never even imagine it, “you’re going to fuck me stupid, okay? you’re going to fuck me until my legs go numb and i can’t feel anything but you… and only when i tell you you can, you’ll breed me, fuck your cum even deeper into me and not let any of it escape. understood?”
he breathes shakily, not responding. obviously you forgot you have your hand over his mouth. when you take it off, he nervously says, “got it. i’ll… i’ll be good. i’ll make you feel so good.”
your voice is dark, cruel, full of malicious intent, “you fucking better, or i won’t let you cum. you’ll get to fuck me, sure, but i won’t ever give you the satisfying orgasm your body is desperately aching for. you won’t get to fill me up, and all you’ll have left to fuck for your little orgasm is your hand.”
his heart aches. the idea of disappointing you makes him feel a physical pit of nervousness in his stomach, the same ones he felt when he was more like himself. he just wants to feel like himself again.
“g-got it,” he whimpers. you get off of him, and he’s got you pinned immediately, gently resting you against the ground he was previously laying on. the image of you beneath him has him breathless. he feels like he’s worshipping a god with every move he makes.
he slides his cock into you, groaning at how easy it is, how wet you are. he bottoms out almost immediately, enjoying the way your body wraps around him in almost every sense. he silently adores you. he loves that you want him, crave him just like he craves you. that underneath all of your dominance, you’re his lover too.
fuck, he’s starting to feel possessive again. he beings to thrust into you, his body moving faster than either of you can handle, but you keep your cool better than he does.
“don’t let yourself start to think you’re in control,” you murmur, leaning up to press your lips to his shoulder, baring your teeth but not hard enough to draw blood. just enough to remind him of his place, “you belong to me. not the other way around, got it?” you growl into his ear.
he can’t even respond, too enraptured by your body and the feeling of your control over him leaving him a shuddering mess.
and you can’t even deny it. he’s putting in the work, thumb playing your with your clit just like how he knows you like, and clearly he’s getting the results he’s looking for. his body comes closer to the edge sooner than he’d like, but he tries to stave it off, for your sake.
still leaning into him, you whisper in your darkest voice, “maybe i should leave you like this, so you can stay this desperate… for me. i would try and cure you, but… not sure if i really care anymore.”
he shudders, voice giving out on him as he tries to plead with you. he cums without warning, obviously his body did it without the consent and go-ahead of his conscious mind. he already looks embarrassed at cumming without your permission. you don’t really have the mind to care right now, but you remember it for.. later.
“i’m gonna cum, fuck, leon, give it to me, give in to your cravings, your desires, your needs,” you moan in his ear, desperate for him, only him, and he’s yours, he’s all yours, it’s all he’s ever been and all he’ll ever be. he keep fucking you even after cumming, keeping you filled up, pushing it deeper, “make me yours.”
and he has no choice but to comply.
#sub leon kennedy#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon s. kennedy#leon kennedy smut#sub leon kennedy smut#resident evil#leon kennedy resident evil#resident evil smut#reader insert#smut#sub!leon#re4 leon#re4r#re4#re4 remake#re4r leon
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HI I JUST READ YOUR "SIMON BETRAY YOU" AND YOU KNOW WHATTTT IT HURTS SOO GOOD OMG THANKS FOR MAKING THATT SJWISHWBSHSJSBWJSBWBS
...
and.. maybe can you write for a part two? pleaseee🥺
HIII TYSM IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED!!! here's a pt 2! i am very sick at the moment, though, so this might be a bunch of gibberish (i sincerely apologize if so). hope you like it <3
simon riley betrays you pt. 2
simon "ghost" riley x reader || pt. 1 || masterlist
☆ ☆ ☆
-miraculously, they let you go.
-you half expected someone to drag you out of the car with the barrel of a gun pressed against your temple with the intent to fire, but no. after a few excruciatingly long hours alone with your arms and legs bound, someone new came to cut your ties and let you loose.
-maybe they were just bad at their job, you thought. after all, why would they let you, essentially a witness, go free without any repercussions?
-a few years pass. you try to move on, but its impossible when your entire world was shattered in one night.
-you never heard back from your father since then, but that wasn't the thing that hurt the most. you couldn't go a single day without thinking about the sting of betrayal. any happy moment you had was spent comparing the time you felt that same feeling with him, before anything in the world was wrong to you.
-what's worse, there was something telling you that you shouldn't tell anyone about it even if you wanted to. a voice in your head kept telling you that maybe, maybe they're keeping you on a leash. maybe someone was watching you at this very moment ready to take you out the moment you spilled your experiences.
-in a way, your fears are confirmed when you meet simon again miles away from the last place you lived. you had moved for this exact reason; you never wanted to see his face for as long as you lived.
-it happens when you're walking alone in the street. you moved to this area specifically because you heard it was quieter and, more importantly, safer. but how much of that could you escape, really?
-your attacker approaches you as you're making your walk home from work, a kind of confidence on his face that makes the common individual want to roll their eyes.
-"what's a sweet thing like you doing out alone at night, huh?" he asks, his footsteps staggered like he's had one too many drinks.
-you give him the usual speel of, "oh, my friends are waiting for me... yeah, i've got a boyfriend. haha, i'm okay, no need to accompany me, thanks."
-your soft attempts at rejection only seem to agitate him, because next thing you know he's stepping toward you and putting a hand on your arm with a bone-crushing grip.
-"c'mon jus' let me-"
-his voice is cut off by the sound of a loud thud and the stranger's yelp of pain. it takes you a second, but you realize the defense on your behalf came from beside you.
-oh, thank god.
-you and your now injured attacker now adjust your gazes to sit on the silent newcomer. just like that, your settled sense of dread has come back and increased tenfold.
-there he was, with that stupid mask over his face and his hands curled into fists for preparation of what he was going to do next if the man didn't scurry off.
-"you'll leave," he says darkly under subtle pants, as if he ran before coming to your rescue. "if you know what's good for you."
-the stranger wastes no time in running off into the night, leaving you with your worst nightmare.
-for a while, you both stare at each other like you can't believe the other is real. it takes everything in you not to cry or beg him for answers. no, after everything you worked for, you're not going to throw away everything you built in the past few years to recover from him just to throw it all away now... right?
-"why are you here?" you ask coldly. "come to finish the job?"
-although your eyes were icy and your questions came with a rigid tone, there was genuine fear in your question. what if the soldier that untied you wasn't supposed to? what if you were supposed to be dead all those years ago?
-"no. never."
-even though he knows the reason why, his heart still hurts at the thought of you believing he'd just up and kill you like that.
-"really? that's rich," you scoff, except you're terrible at hiding the tremble in your breath and the tremors traveling through your body.
-spotting your growing fear, he scrambles for something, anything, to make you fear him less.
-"i was worried, that's all. after that night," he pauses, eventually deciding to skip the details of what he did to your father. "i didn't know where you went. thought i could just get over it, but i guess i just knew i needed to check in on you just in case."
-you resist the urge to roll you eyes. "right. you're back again to 'check in on me'? to come back and meddle in my life again?" you're struggling to keep your tears back as they form in your eyes. "you've already taken so much. how selfish can you be?"
-he stares at you for a moment before slipping his hand into his pocket and taking out a gold watch that belonged to your dad.
-"i'm sorry about your father, but you have to understand that he-"
-"not that, simon. it was never that," you push his hand away and the offer that came with it. his eyes became confused. "i mean you. it's always been you. you just come into my life telling me you love me, that you want to be with me so much and then just take that all away? and you never even bothered to tell me it was a lie, just let me get tied up by some stranger to be left alone and scared!"
-there's a new look in simon's eyes at your words, but it's hard to decipher them from behind the mask.
-"it wasn't a lie," he says slowly, lowering the hand with the watch in it back to his side.
-"oh, please." the trembling has not died down in the slightest. "i bet you're still mad that worker of yours took pity on me and let me leave before you could do anything about it. like i said, back to finish the job."
-your eyes are now trained on the ground. there was a conflicted feeling in your body at the moment. on one hand, this was the man that let you get tied up and left in a car while he "handled" your father. on the other, this was the man you loved. the one who was kind to your ever desire, who always understood you in ways you never knew possible.
-"i told them to let you go," he finally manages.
-"what?"
"i..." he hesitates. "i told my captain that if i was going to give them your father's location, they were to let you go no questions asked when the whole ordeal was over with." and it was true. he hated even imagining poor you, being interrogated by his colleagues in an isolated, barren room. you had been through enough.
-and even if you had been a part of your father's scheme, there was a part of simon that loved you too much to care (though he'd never admit it to himself).
-it was a good thing price trusted his judgment. he didn't know what he would've done had he said no.
-the tears are now streaming down your face and you can do nothing to stop it. it all felt like so much. you were so, so confused. if he did love you, why did you feel this way? how much of this could you trust?
-cautiously, he goes to wipe the tears away from your face, murmuring a quiet, "hate it when you cry." for a second, it was a familiar feeling. you felt like you were back in your shared flat with simon while having a breakdown over life's struggles. in moments like those, you never would have expectated that life's struggles could take the form of simon himself.
-you can't help but lean into his touch. maybe you were insane for allowing him to touch you like this, but you wanted nothing more than to let him into your life again. the resolve you worked so hard to build was crumbling away the longer you spent with him.
-"the reason it took so long for me to find you..." he's holding your face in his hands, now. "for so long, i thought i ought to leave you alone. i know i should. i wasn't lying about when i said i was worried if you were still alive, but," he swallows the lump in his throat before continuing. "i also miss you. 'nd i know, 's incredibly selfish of me after everything i've done to you, but i can't help it."
-one of his hands leaves your face to slide the mask and balaclava off his face. there he was again, his aged brown eyes and soft jawline, the sides of his face littered with small scars you still remember to this day.
-"i'll make it up to you," he whispers. "anything you ask, i'll answer. about my past, your father, anything. you ask me to get you something, i'll have it for you wrapped all nice 'nd pretty. hell, i'll get on my knees and pray to you if you order me to, love."
-it was like your nightmare turned into a fantasy, having him here begging for your forgiveness.
-"anything you want, i want to give to you. jus' let me be a little selfish, too."
-you bite your lip as you think it over. you know the correct answer would be a clear, hard no, but you can't bring yourself to do it. not after all those nights wishing he was encasing you in his arms again, whispering all the things he adored about you as you drifted off into sleep.
-as much as you shouldn't be believing him, you do.
-"...anything?" you ask hesitantly, and it takes everything in simon not to pull you in close and never let go.
-again. no, he needs to be sure he won't scare you off again.
-"anything," he promises, fingertips tracing the edge of your jawline.
-"okay," you agree, the tears finally having stopped flowing. happiness does not even begin to describe what simon was feeling. "for starters, you can walk me home."
-with the watch long forgotten and broken on the edge of the sidewalk, he holds your face for a bit longer before letting go. eventually, he offers his arm to you and you take it.
-there's a part of him that mourns the years lost that he could've had with you. maybe, if he came to you sooner, he wouldn't have to be so careful about being around you, now. but, no, these were the consequences of his actions.
-at the very least, you were still giving him a second chance, and he was intent on not fucking it up this time.
#call of duty imagine#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#cod imagine#cod mw x reader#simon riley imagine#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost imagine#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x you#cod angst#call of duty angst#simon riley angst#ghost angst#rarawrites
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A positive Update
Friends, kind folk - Hello Again 🤍
Ever since my last update post, I've been thinking about it , a lot ;; I knew I needed time to cook and reflect, and im so glad I gave myself that...
2024 started rough for me; I fell severely ill again - I was too busy cursing my life and dwelling over how betrayed I felt by things still not getting better despite my efforts that I didn't realize I was walking into a self fulfilling prophecy. Its true that the struggles I'm going through are yet to be solved, that its gotten so much to the point giving up seemed easier, and that a couple individuals haven't been making it easier on me either; I swayed and i rattled and I steered within feelings ranging from confusion to anger to dismay and all of this back and forth did nothing but remind me of yet another self-destructive loop I just don't want to allow in my life anymore. Its exactly the kinda stuff that made me ill to begin with, and I've been so lost dealing with everything in between that i forgot to tend to the actual core centering all of this...
It grew unbearable how much emotional and physical turmoil I was pushing myself into, and knowing how intertwined these two elements have been; I had to draw a line before i majorly screwed myself over, gathering any bit of inner will to discipline myself back into some sort of clarity, enough to at least look through a lens OUTSIDE my pain for once, towards the kind of life I want to lead, and the kind of life I don't; and I came to an understanding.
From my physical state to my mental, to the people and memories I've experienced, both the good and the bad - I want to prioritize the good.
Not in a shitty ass, toxic optimism kinda way but in a "I want to prioritize knowing and living the possibility that even when it hurts, even when i want to be gone, even when life doesn't align - There's still every good reason in the world to keep moving forward, to face things from a perspective of growth & compassion, and to grow to love the promise of a better tomorrow even when today was unbearable." To know that I don't end or begin in my suffering, that the infinite potential I speak so fondly of applies to me, as well...
I want to be able to wield and create and share that goodness, too, Especially when it is already in decline...And for all gods sake, to internalize that all of this STILL exists and STILL matters even when it doesn't work the first couple or dozens of times.
As for my place here in Tumblr...I know the sentiment might feel silly to some but the experiences, memories, and connections I've made here have truly been such a significant force in my life, and i don't want to give up on that ;; Not because of my own insecurities, or an inner state of hopelessness, and especially not over a bunch of emotionally immature Anons that dont know how to handle themselves; I want to forgive all of that.
I'm stubborn, and there's an unyielding force within me that no matter how many times it is struck down, it proved itself ridiculously resilient. I'm perking up with with a fiery confidence realizing just how many times it rose back up, enough to realize it is an unchangeable part of me ;_; I shouldn't underestimate that force, and I want to keep living by its side. Whatever positive change I can sprinkle onto my life and the lives of those I care for, I will! And the reason why this space in particular is so important to me, is because so much of that already exists here, alongside you folks;
THAT'S the kind of energy i want to nourish and walk into the new year with! I want to continue growing as a person, challenging my inner turmoils, undoing the self punishing dogmas that still haunt me, stop flexing my teeth over things that don't deserve my time and god DAMN, just - indulge in the stuff that makes me happy, even when I'm going through unhappy times.
So yeah...I guess that means, I'm back & I'm staying ;_;)🧡
I know i may seem like a broken record when it comes to expressing gratitude but - Thank you, thank you thank you everyone who have reached out for me, who so fondly kept me in their thoughts and kept encouraging me whenever i was hurting, both then and now...You folks mean more than whatever ailment or struggle I can go through, and while I'm unsure of how the future will look like as I'm still going through various challenges- I couldn't have asked for a cooler, sweeter audience to have by my side whenever Its time to take a rest or hype over our sexy delicious blorbos!
Speaking of which....................I have been cooking quite a lot of things in the time i was away 👀✨ I most definitely intend to serve them, eheheh
#Ronkey Posts#Waving a tired yet happy hello#Back from the dead and ready to SLAY or just to relax and chill and remember that goodness is a force undying ;_;#i missed you folks so much...
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007!ji changmin x f!reader
you're sent to montenegro to infiltrate a high-stakes poker game, but with the world hanging in the balance, it's a good thing m's sending her best employee along with you—agent 007, ji changmin.
▷ genre, warnings. f2l, james bond/007/spy au, action, suspense, pining(?), minimal angst, humor bc i'm me, violence, blood, death, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weaponry, mentions of corruption, swearing, kissing, near-death experiences, mentions of terrorism but not explicitly discussed, the ending is kinda cheesy im sorry it's late and i like making him yearn, barely proofread (dudes it's so late when im writing this)
▷ word count. 11.1k
▷ based on. casino royale (2006)
a/n: this is for @winterchimez ally's 007 files collab! pls check out the other fics that have been posted 😎 also, this is way lighter than the actual movie, so uhm, yeah!
YOU KNEW FROM THE MOMENT you first stepped into your position as an agent of the Treasury, that Kenneth Kang would be a thorn in your side. Perhaps not even a thorn, but a massive pain in the neck, the back, the ass. He was a man with a helm of pomade for hair and an ego the size of Russia, who, for some odd reason, despised you.
It was funny… the last time you checked, an entity such as Russia wouldn't be so easily threatened by someone like yourself. But here was Kenneth Kang, continuing to email you passive aggressive correspondence as if he wasn't butthurt the director chose you for this task rather than him.
After all, only the best of the best were selected to assist MI6 with their assignments. The fate of the world hung in the balance.
You told Kenneth just that in your last (hopefully) email to him for the trip: The quarterly reports are still due on Monday, Kang. Remember that Director Song excused me from them because I'm off to go save the world—ta-ta! Or something to that effect.
It was unfortunate the government monitored everyone's emails or you would've signed off with something wildly hilarious like “Love (if pigs flew), Director Song's Favorite <3 (not you)”—that would stick it to him—
A clearing throat drew your attention away from your laptop so abruptly, you were glad you didn't get whiplash.
“This seat taken?” You didn't catch a clear glimpse of the man's face before he was already claiming the seat across from you. The voice was awfully familiar, and when you finally saw him, you understood why.
You nearly did a double take, but the surprise swiftly melted away like glaciers in the spring to something like warm amusement. “Ah, do I—uh—know you, sir?” You asked, gently folding your laptop closed so you can gesture to the teapot before you. “Tea?”
Ji Changmin leaned back in his chair, eyes darting from the view outside the train car window and back to you. He dragged his gaze up and down your form, the back of his knuckles pressed against his lips. It did nothing to hide his smile. “Tea would be lovely, thanks.”
You obliged, refilling your cup with the hot beverage and pouring a decent amount into the extra teacup and saucer on his half of the table.
The two of you were currently on a train to Montenegro. Less than 48 hours ago, you were summoned into your director's office, only for the head of MI6 (the elusive M) to join you. You were debriefed on a high stakes poker game being hosted by a man notoriously reputed for funding terrorist organizations around the globe. You were told that M would be sending her “best” along with you to be dealt into the game—you were never given the agent's name or identification number.
But now that you were nearly an hour's ride away from Montenegro, it seemed he finally decided to reveal himself.
“Are you sure you don't remember me, Miss?” He asked, eyebrows raised over the rim of his teacup. “I was so sure that I left a lasting impression on you the last time.”
You slowly raked your eyes over the sharp, dark blue suit he wore, the white dress shirt beneath opened up at the collar, his wrist fitted with a watch that glistened in the afternoon light filtering in through the window. He had cropped his hair since the last time you saw Agent 007, M's so-called “best.” That was about two years ago, when there was a joint-branch charity gala and the two of you shared a dance before he was called away. Before that, you reckoned it was likely your graduation from Cambridge.
Time flew, you supposed, and you'd both been busy.
The corner of your lips lifted as you took a ginger sip of your tea. “Well then, you'll have to do a better job this time. What brings you to Montenegro?”
“Ah, business. You know how it is.”
“A truly dull answer,” you remarked. He couldn't come up with better conversation? You expected more from the man who always prided himself on buttery smooth lines. Where was the fun in ‘business’? “No wonder you've got all of that on. You're dressed like you're about to go buy a company.”
“Could I buy your company?” He asked in jest, tilting his head to the side.
You set your teacup down and a smile flitted over your lips. “I don't think you'd ever have enough money in the world for that.”
He chuckled then and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, catching a droplet of tea clinging to it. “Challenge accepted.”
When the train pulled into the station at Montenegro, it was just about a quarter past two in the afternoon. You and Changmin stood up from your cozy two-seater table to prepare to disembark. You rifled through your laptop tote for your wallet, but before you could retrieve your money, Changmin was already dropping bills on the table.
“Is this yours?” He asked, placing a hand on the bag stowed above the seat. It was a duffle bag that ranged on the smaller size with enough room to store your toiletries, emergency items, and any other things you might have needed. You were informed that clothing and the like would be in your accommodations waiting for you—there must have been a strict dress code for this event.
You shouldered your purse. “Yes, I'm traveling light.”
“Same here.” He grabbed your bag for you, and the two of you were off, shuffling down the aisle toward the nearest exit. Light, indeed. He didn't seem to have any luggage on him, but you supposed an agent of his caliber was provided everything he needed at his accommodations.
The train station, at this hour, was rather busy. People bustled to and fro to get to their trains, the parking lot, the ticket booth, the works. Your instructions once you'd arrived in Montenegro were to get in touch with the agent who was assigned to this case, and that you already accomplished. Until now, that was about all you knew, barring the general mission at-hand.
“I assume you’ll be staying at the Hotel Splendide, as well?” You voiced to him as you walked by his side toward the valet at the front of the station. You never knew a train station to have a valet, but you supposed it made sense if there were luxury, long-haul train cars.
“Your assumption would be correct,” he said. “In fact, we’re sharing a room.” The reveal of this information nearly had you tripping over your own shoes, and you were sure you saw a ghost of a smile make it onto his lips. You narrowed your eyes at him as he carried onward—of course, the two of you were sharing a room. What cover did MI6 even come up with? Something incredibly original like a married couple, you’d bet. Or, god forbid, a man and his mistress. (The thought made you gag.)
Changmin made eye contact with the valet boy, his chin inclining toward him. “Afternoon. It should be under ‘Ji.’”
The boy traced his finger down the edge of his tablet screen and his eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah yes, Mr. Ji,” he said, grabbing a keychain from his station and tossing it over to Changmin, “your car was just delivered two minutes ago. Have a nice trip, sir.”
“Thank you.” A rolled up bill was exchanged so fast that you thought you’d imagined it, and Changmin was walking onward down the length of the curved curb toward a parked vehicle. You followed swiftly after him, and upon further inspection, realized that the vehicle he was striding towards was a sleek Aston Martin in a classy shade of silver. It looked like something straight out of Hollywood, the sight nearly making your knees buckle. It was enough to say that all thoughts of you sharing a room with Changmin flew out the Aston Martin’s window.
Changmin gave a laugh at your reaction, opening the passenger side door for you. “You look more excited to see this car than me, sweetheart.”
“Was I that obvious? She’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but grin back as you slipped into the smooth, leather seat. The interior was just as beautiful and sleek, with dark colored leather and a shiny center console. While you buckled yourself in, you heard Changmin deposit your bag in the backseat before rounding the car to take his place in the driver’s side.
“I can’t say I disagree,” he said, the door slamming. He retrieved a pair of aviator sunglasses from a compartment above the rearview mirror, donning them, then flashing you a dimpled smile. “Shall we?”
Changmin revved up the engine and pulled out of the train station's front lot onto the scenic road that would wind down the mountains to reach the portside where Hotel Splendide was located.
“I haven't seen you in two years, have you been well?” You piped up, now that the two of you were alone.
He hummed. “Ah, for the most part, yes—I’ve been alright.”
“Trotting the globe, I bet?”
“You'd win that bet, for sure,” he mused. He passed you a brief glance, turning his eyes back to the road. “And you?”
You mimicked the humming sound he'd made earlier. “I've been decent. Just work most days; you know how it is.”
He nodded his understanding. “Social life just as dead as uni?”
An incredulous sound flew out of your mouth, your hand swatting his arm to coax an impish smile from him. “I have friends!”
“Significant others then,” he offered.
You bristled in your seat and met his grin with a stink eye. “There are more important things than finding romance.”
“Still the same Yn as I remember,” he teased. “Now I know you're not an imposter.” A beat of silence, and then, “M must have been very pleased with your performance records to have approved of your director's choice. Not that I'm surprised; you've always been exceptional in your field.”
You turned your head to face the window on your side, barely hiding the pleased smile on your face from his compliment. It had taken a lot of hard work to get where you were, and you should've been proud of yourself. “I appreciate that. Though, I'm sure the fact that we know each other might have something to do with it, too.”
“I think that's just an added bonus,” he remarked optimistically. “You'll know how to keep me in check.” That was, literally speaking, exactly what your role here was. While Changmin was dealt into the game, you controlled the amount of money he was able to use or bet with. Because you were the trusted agent of the Treasury, you would be privy to the amount of money appropriate to use from the government's coffers.
“Who knew one partner project would lead to us saving the world together?” He added offhandedly with almost a nostalgic sort of whimsy.
“Are you ready to be a team player this time, though?” You asked, eyebrow raised. “The rumors say you enjoy flying solo.”
“I fly solo when it's dangerous,” he corrected. Which, you guessed, was most of the time in his line of work.
“So you're saying this mission isn't dangerous?”
“A poker game?” He laughed. “The only dangerous thing about it is gonna be how fast I'm going to win.”
The Hotel Splendide was as splendid as its name suggested. The grand, white limestone facade was carved with arched windows and statues, sleek columns and balconies. This side faced out into the waterfront, giving all arriving patrons a beautiful view of the port.
Changmin directed his car into the cobblestone roundabout at the front of the hotel. When he brought the vehicle to a stop, a bellboy in a maroon colored uniform opened your car door for you and offered a hand to help you out.
“Thank you,” you murmured, rolling your neck and stretching your limbs from the hour-long car ride.
Changmin emerged from the driver's side with his keys in hand, speaking to another attendant about being careful with his vehicle. He rounded the car just as the bellboy grabbed your duffle from the backseat.
“Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. This way to the check-in counter please,” the bellboy said, gesturing toward the front door, framed by an amber-toned awning and crowned in a myriad of flags from around the world.
You felt Changmin's palm warm the small of your back as you clutched your laptop purse in your hands. “Of course, thank you.”
The hotel’s foyer was just as magnificent as its outside. A crystalline chandelier hung from the high-domed ceiling, painting the room in a luxurious champagne gold, while the marble floors were lined in a deep crimson velvet. The front desk was to your immediate left with a number of staff stationed behind it.
The woman you and Changmin went to greeted you both with a polite smile. “Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. May I have the name of your reservation, please?”
“Ji,” your friend answered, “James Ji.”
Your eyebrows flew to your hairline.
“Ah,” the woman said, “but of course, Mr. Ji. Yours and your assistant's suite has been prepared for your arrival.”
Assistant? While she readied the key cards for you, you met Changmin’s gaze with a number of questions in your eyes. He only answered with a helpless expression.
Assistant? As if.
For fear of jeopardizing the mission by correcting the cover MI6 so generously assigned you, you reluctantly kept your mouth shut.
The desk clerk pushed a pair of cards across the polished wood toward you and Changmin—key cards. “These are your keys for your stay in room 700. All amenities, such as room service and the spa, are included in the fees you paid while booking. Your luggage will be delivered to your room for you. Anything you might need may be addressed via the phone in your suite or here at the front desk.”
(Assistant? Did you look like a fucking assistant?)
Changmin collected the room keys and passed you one. “Excellent, thank you. Did any mail arrive for me?”
“Yes, sir. A small parcel was delivered directly to your suite, as well as several garment bags. You'll find them in your wardrobe. Is that all?”
With nothing else to be addressed, you and Changmin thanked the front desk attendant and you were shuttled toward the elevators at the end of the hall. It was a good thing the elevator carriage made a swift arrival, because as soon as the doors slid closed, you let your frustrations be known.
“Assistant?” You exclaimed, gesticulating frustratedly. “Out of all the cover options? That woman probably thinks I'm your mistress!”
“I didn't choose it,” Changmin said, raising his palms in surrender. Though, it was clear by his expression that he was at least amused by your reaction.
You rolled your eyes, then narrowed them and crossed your arms over your chest. “What if you were the assistant, hm? Why aren't I the rich lady with a handsome secretary I take on vacation with me?”
His grin was teasing as he leaned closer to you, your breath hitching for a split second. There was a brief moment where your senses were fully engulfed by the smell of his cologne and the way a lock of his hair curled over his forehead. “You think I'm handsome?”
As if the universe could feel the warmth rising to your cheeks, the elevator doors mercifully opened onto the seventh floor.
He leaned away, something self-satisfied playing on his mouth as he returned his hand to your back. “Okay,” he drawled, “say I'm your handsome assistant…”
“I'm never living that down, am I?” You groaned, already feeling the headache spike in your temples. Your eyes fluttered about the corridor you entered; it was just as beautiful as the lobby downstairs, but with a slightly moodier glow to the lights as if not to disturb any of the patrons on this floor should they wish for an escape from downstair's hustle and bustle.
“Imagine if Chanhee found out you'd said that.”
“Don't get me started on Chanhee.” Room 700 appeared in your sight, and you smacked your key card against the card reader before letting yourself into the room. As the lights flickered on, you asked Changmin from over your shoulder, “Have you heard from him recently, by the way?”
Chanhee was a mutual friend from your college days. While he was technically a closer friend to Changmin, you'd met Chanhee through Changmin after your partner project and grabbed dinner together every once in a while whenever Chanhee was in town.
You were already making a beeline to the bathroom when you heard the hotel room door close and lock behind Changmin. “Recently? Depends on your definition of ‘recently.’”
The sound of your sigh echoed as you absentmindedly fixed your hair in the reflection. Train hair wasn't as poor as airplane hair, that was for sure. “He misses you,” you said in a singsong tone.
“Is that right?” He chuckled. “I'll shoot him a text then.”
He appeared in the reflection behind you holding two black garment bags, one in each hand. He'd shed his suit jacket somewhere, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to expose his forearms. “These are ours for tonight,” he said to you, handing you the one with your name on it.
Ah, tonight. “Thanks,” you said, taking a peek inside to see what exactly was prepared for you. Your curiosity piqued at the sight of deep wine red fabric, but you didn't look any further for the time being.
“Are you ready for tonight?” He asked, stealing a glance at you as he brushed his hair back in the mirror.
At the proximity of tonight's events, you suddenly felt your heart rate climb. Before when this was only an assignment, the gravity of the situation hadn't fallen over you yet. But now that it was your current reality, it began to rush at you with the speed of an oncoming train.
You steeled your nerves. You were tapped to carry out this task for a reason. The only thing you had to do was be wary of Changmin's spending; he was doing the heavy lifting. Even if you were about to be in a room with a few dozen other dangerous people.
You swallowed, nodding. “Ready as I'll ever be.”
He pressed his lips together, his dimples appearing in his cheeks but not because of joy. There was a step forward, then another. “Hey,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, “I won't let anything bad happen to you or to anybody; that's what I'm here for.”
He draped his garment over his arm and leaned against the bathroom counter beside you. “If we both do our jobs right, we'll be fine. Do you know who our target is? Just so you're aware of who to look out for.”
You nodded, “Le Chiffre.” That was the name of the host of tonight's poker game. He was high on the MI6's most wanted list, and tonight was a critical effort to put a stop to his movements, as well as the credibility he had with his clients. You'd seen pictures of this man—the cold of his eyes and the pale scar that disabled one of his pupils—you were well aware of what he looked like.
“Good,” he murmured. “Then you stay far away from him, got it, sweetheart?”
“Got it.”
Though the gravity of the situation hung heavy in the room after that conversation, Changmin ordered the two of you room service before you needed to prepare for the poker game. You figured food in your stomach would keep you grounded and lessen the nerves trilling through you and making your extremities feel cold to the touch.
Dinner shared in the privacy of your hotel room with an old friend was pleasant. You both sat on the couch sectional next to each other, his arm laid casually over the back of where you sat, as you caught up and dined. There was something oddly warm in his eyes… you didn't know what it was that made him seem so clued into what you were saying, as if he was spellbound. You figured it must be the training he underwent; after all, if he couldn't just muscle his way to an answer, then seduction was also a powerful tool at his disposal.
You just wondered why it was seeping into his interaction with you. Perhaps it became second nature for him to be this way—to lean into every word you said, to brighten at the sound of your laugh, to mirror every smile. To make you feel like you were the only person in his world and that you were all that mattered.
By the time nine o'clock rolled around and you were in the bathroom preparing for the game, your nerves had calmed considerably.
The dress that MI6 provided you was a deep wine evening gown that hugged your upper body and cascaded down the length of your legs before it hung just above your feet. The satin was gathered and left to create a cowl at the neckline, and somebody had thought it was a fabulous idea to leave a high slit in one side all the way up to mid-thigh height. (One wrong move and you were screwed.)
It was as if a river of wine physically wrapped around you as a garment for the night.
Though you appreciated the beauty of it, it only served to make you realize that perhaps controlling Changmin's spending wasn't your only job tonight; your other purpose was to distract everyone else. You weren't sure how you felt about that.
A knock sounded at the bathroom door just as you were fitting on a pair of matching ruby earrings. “Yn?”
“Just a second,” you said. You pushed the earring backing into place and hustled over to open the door. “I'm just finishing… hey.”
Changmin had changed into an all-black suit, a classic piece of uniform that was tailored perfectly to his proportions. His eyes were hooded and dark as he drank you in like a glass of Pinot Noir.
A low whistle drifted out from his lips. “If I'm being honest, you might be a liability in this dress.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, turning back to return to the bathroom counter.
Changmin trailed after you, almost dumbfounded, like he'd forgotten why he'd knocked on the door in the first place.
You tried to suppress your smile as you handed him his comb. “See something you like?”
His eyes met yours in the mirror, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “I do.”
Your expression shuttered in the mirror having not expected that reply at all.
Changmin cleared his throat, stepping to your side to fix his hair with practiced grace. In no time, his appearance was complete, and he was heading out of the bathroom, his cologne lingering by you.
When you were satisfied, you turned off the bathroom light on your way out to meet Changmin in the main room. He was by the safe, fitting a fresh magazine into a silver pistol with skilled hands. He felt your gaze on the weapon and passed you a glance. “We can't carry weapons into the room,” he told you, “but it's a good idea to have one ready here.”
You bobbed your head in agreement, though you felt your shoulders tighten.
He locked up the safe before making his way toward you. “Do you know how to use one of these?” He asked.
You shook your head. “It was never in my job description,” you said quietly. “I hope you don't have to use it.”
There was a graveness to his gaze now. “I hope I don't have to either.” Because both of you knew, if it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate.
The room where it happened was deep in the bowels of the hotel, somewhere below the casino floor and above the core of the earth. To get in, one was required an exclusive invitation, which was the item Changmin had received in the small parcel from earlier in the afternoon.
You and Changmin arrived on the scene arm in arm, your posture straight in an effort to come off as nonchalant. As you descended the velvet-lined stairs into the basement room, you were confronted by a pair of broad-shouldered bodyguards with body scanners in their hands. After retrieving Changmin's invitation, you were both scanned separately for security, before being granted entry.
The playing room was on the smaller side with a fully equipped bar on the furthest wall of the room. The centerpiece was an oval table, barred off with railings for spectators to lean on while the game was played. There were a sprinkling of others here, both players and their guests.
Your initial scan of the room, unsurprisingly, produced no familiar faces—but your arm tightened around Changmin's when you caught sight of the man of the hour. Le Chiffre stood on the opposite side of the room, nursing a coup glass of liquor as he spoke in low tones with another man. From this angle, you could see the cut of his one glassy eye and the angry scar that marred his face.
“Our four o'clock,” you muttered between your teeth to your counterpart.
Changmin glanced over out of his peripheral vision, nodding subtly. “How about a drink, sweetheart?” He asked you, his voice slightly louder than your own.
You gave a small smile, and he began to lead you over to the bar.
As the two of you moved, you couldn't shake the feeling of eyes trailing after you, something akin to spidersilk clinging to your limbs that you could never quite brush off. It was no secret that you were one of the few women in the room.
When you reached the bar, Changmin flagged the bartender down. “A vodka martini, please—shaken, not stirred—and a mint julep for the lady.”
“Right away, sir.”
You looked over at Changmin with an impressed purse of your lips. “You remembered,” you mused.
The corner of his lip tilted upward. “How could I forget?”
With your drinks served to you, you gently sipped on your mint julep. It wouldn't do you well to get drunk tonight; you just needed a little liquid courage.
From your side, Changmin stared out into the crowd, likely assessing his opponents in the room. He made a small noise of consideration that made you prompt him. He answered lowly, “You see the man to our nine o'clock?—”
You followed his instructions and casted a single glance that way. At the other end of the bar stood a man in a gray suit, nursing a rum and coke in his hands as he assessed the room for himself.
“—Lee Juyeon. CIA.”
Your eyebrows flicked upward. “Interesting. Are they after our man, too?”
“Good chance that they are,” he said and raised his glass to his lips. He swallowed the last of his drink and set the empty glass behind him, leaning the elbow closest to you against the bar behind him. “Know how to play poker?”
“I’m more of a Go Fish girl, actually.”
He sputtered a laugh, and you smiled into your glass. “You're kidding. Not even a little?”
“Go fish, Mr. Ji,” you said and gestured to him with your glass. “Do tell though, since your boss seems to have so much faith in you. What's the secret to winning poker?”
You hadn't even realized how close your faces were tilted toward each other until you registered the smell of his drink on his breath and the shine on his lips. For a plot second, you swore his eyes even dared a glance away from your own.
Neither of you backed away from the other and remained in the intimate gray space.
“The secret?” He parroted, cocking an eyebrow. He tugged at his bottom lip. “The secret is figuring out what everyone else's tells are. It's about bluffing and strategy. If you can figure out how to tell when a person is lying, then you're practically set.”
You hummed. “I see. So what's my tell?”
“Your tell?” His gaze on you was hot and heavy as his eyes devoured you slowly but surely for yet another instance tonight. You could no longer ignore the rapid hammering of your heart, its insistent palpitations threatening to expose you to the man you swore could already see right through you.
His lips pulled into a slow smile, the kind you couldn't decide if it really was a smile or a smirk. “That’s for me to know, and you to figure out.”
“You don't know then.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”
A hush fell over the room. You followed everyone's eyes up to the man who had summoned the room's attention. Le Chiffre stood atop the poker table's platform with a small laptop seated upon the table's edge.
“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the game,” he greeted coolly. “We will begin this evening's festivities with an introduction to our security protocols. This device—” he gestured to the computer, “—is fully secured to store and activate all of the night's betting money. Each player will enter a six-character code, unique to them, that will grant them access to the winning sum—should they win.”
A small murmur of laughter amongst the crowd; you didn't find it funny.
“We will begin with Mrs. Takeuchi.”
One by one, each of the players present tonight came forward to input a six-charactered passcode of their choosing. When Changmin was summoned forward, you watched as his expression became a careful, unreadable slate. He strode up toward the poker table, eyes never leaving Le Chiffre and Le Chiffre's never leaving Changmin. You could feel the tension in the room tighten, and Changmin confidently input his desired password.
When he pressed ENTER, you swore you could feel the fifteen million dollars being locked into the pot. Fifteen million was a shit ton of cash. The amount you were not willing to go beyond was twenty million. As long as Changmin played safe and played well, it wouldn't be a problem.
Not before long, the players were all summoned to the table. You sent Changmin off with a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder, and followed behind him to find a space at the railing to watch.
Changmin settled in the chair directly across from Le Chiffre.
The dealer passed out two cards to every player, each of whom hoarded a stack of chips and rectangular plaques that valued up to fifteen million. As the dealer revealed the four cards before him—two jokers, a king, and an ace—the game was on.
You weren't even sure what you were looking for, but the sinking feeling in your gut would not fade the entire game. You held onto your mint julep until it was drained, eyes trained on the cards lying face down in Changmin's hands as he watched Le Chiffre across from him like a hawk.
He was looking for his tell, you realized.
The match was tense. You couldn't pull your gaze away, for fear of missing some minute detail, even if each move made was technically quite large. In the beginning, however, it felt as though everyone was playing it safer, for fear of getting out too early.
The night was young, and it would do none of them any good if they lucked out of a pot of at least one hundred million.
You watched Changmin, who watched Le Chiffre. You noted the way Le Chiffre would occasionally bring his left hand up to his scarred eye… was that his tell?
It was nearing one hour when it was only Changmin and Le Chiffre who had yet to fold. The dealer called for Changmin to make his move, and you looked over to your counterpart as the gears turned and twisted in his mind.
“I'm all in,” he decided, and shifted his entire pile into the center, mounting up to some amount close to twelve million.
You pressed the backs of your knuckles to your lips in anticipation of Le Chiffre's move. The man did not cower, but rather, called his bet. He moved his pile of fourteen million to the center. All in.
“Gentlemen,” the dealer gestured for their cards to be revealed.
They flipped their cards into view—you could feel the scandal rocket through the crowd.
“A pair of jacks. Monsieur Le Chiffre wins. This marks the halfway point of the match; we will return in one hour to resume, with the big blind set at two hundred thousand.”
Everyone around the table, both players and spectators, began to dissipate to find something to distract them for the hour-long break.
Changmin's posture was taut as a bowstring as Le Chiffre pulled his mouth into a sly smirk across from him. “Ah, Mr. Ji. You must have interpreted my tell wrong. Off your game tonight, don't you think?”
A muscle feathered in the agent's jaw. “I wouldn't be so quick to boast,” he drawled. “The game's not over yet.”
You didn't know what to say, but you knew one thing was for certain—no matter what, you and Changmin could not let Le Chiffre leave tonight with the jackpot. And as Changmin departed the table with a crease between his brows but his head held high, you knew what was on his mind, as well.
“Need a drink?” You asked, as he met you where you stood.
Changmin shook his head. “No, I'm alright,” he said, glancing about. He nudged the back of your shoulder with his fingers, guiding you toward the exit. “Let's get out of this room for a moment though.”
You weren't going to argue with that decision, and the two of you linked arms and made your departure.
When the cool air in the lobby swept over you and all the tension in your body left for a brief moment of paradise. It was so stifling down in that room; you were almost thankful to be wearing this dress.
You and Changmin lingered at the top of the railing that looked down into the lobby from the second flood, heads close together. “What now?” You asked him.
“I need more money.”
“I can give you five million, but that's my limit, Changmin,” you told him firmly.
His brows crossed together. “Five million isn't enough to go toe to toe with a guy who just ended round one with thirty—”
“That's not my fault; this is policy.” You knew the world hung in the balance, but while that was his job, this was yours. You sighed. “Maybe I can contact someone about approving more, but right now, five million is our only option. Do we not have a plan B?”
Changmin's lips pressed into a line. “Plan B is hoping he does something fucking illegal in front of my face, and praying that reinforcements come in fast enough to take him away.”
Now it was your turn for your brows to crease. “Why do we have to wait for him to do something illegal? Don't we know he's a criminal?”
“We're onto him, yes, but there has been no tangible proof that he's a corrupt banker,” Changmin admitted tersely. He absentmindedly rubbed his jaw with his palm. “If we could just—”
“Ji.”
Both you and Changmin straightened. Coming toward you from down the hall was Lee Juyeon, the CIA agent Changmin had pointed out to you earlier.
You didn't fail to notice the way Changmin blocked you from Juyeon's view with his body. “Lee,” Changmin greeted back.
Juyeon nodded to you in hello with a warm smile, and you lifted your hand to wave. He seemed decent enough.
Changmin’s eyes narrowed as he shifted so he stood next to you now, an obvious arm slung around your waist. “I didn't know the CIA was on this.”
“I didn't know the MI6 was on this,” Juyeon fired back. He let out a sigh that sounded about as stressed as you were. “I wanted to propose a deal with you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, well—” Juyeon cupped the back of his neck with one hand. “I'm not the most adept poker player,” he confessed. If you remembered correctly, he nearly lost half his money throughout round one—then again, Changmin lost all of his. According to Le Chiffre, it was because he had read his tell incorrectly; you must have interpreted the wrong one, too. “And I figured that I'm not going to be making enough right moves in the second round to even stand a chance against Le Chiffre. You've got the balls to go up against him, and I know you're down a few bucks, so I wanted to bow out of the round and stake you instead.”
Both you and Changmin glanced at one another in surprise.
Juyeon was backing out… and wanted to stake Changmin? Stake, meaning to invest or sponsor him; to give Changmin funds.
Changmin's eyes narrowed. “And what would I do for you in return?”
“You would give the CIA Le Chiffre.”
What other choice did you and Changmin have? Five million was not enough to make a winning comeback; at least being sponsored would give Changmin enough cushion to make some more mistakes. The allyship between your governments was enough to make the CIA taking Le Chiffre in the end seem like a victory.
Changmin exhaled and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”
The second round was no less tense than the first. Changmin entered with more determination and fury than before, and Le Chiffre was no short of amusement and arrogance.
After Juyeon made his official departure from the game, he came to stand by you to spectate and offer insights wherever he could. The game chugged on by for another half hour with bets being placed, drinks being sipped, and money being exchanged.
You watched Changmin reach for his glass again, only to pause. There was a moment where you didn't breathe, and you watched his hand retract up toward his shirt collar to loosen it.
“Something wrong, Mr. Ji?” Le Chiffre asked.
You squinted at him, disliking the sinking feeling that had returned to your gut.
“Break,” Changmin suddenly called out, as he stumbled out of his seat and pushed out of the room in a hurry.
Eyes widened, you bolted after him, leaving Juyeon to wonder what had happened to Changmin.
You called out to your partner as he stumbled into the elevator, and you crashed in after him. “Oh my—fuck. What the fuck happened?” You asked as Changmin toppled over into you, sweat dripping down his face and his skin growing more and more flushed.
You jammed the button for your floor in a hurry as you attempted to hold him upright. “God, you're heavy, man—”
“Poison,” he choked out, practically ripping his shirt collar open, as if it was constricting his breathing. He gasped for air and clung onto you like a lifeboat.
Panic seized you by the heart and squeezed hard. “Oh my god. Okay—uhm, okay. What do we do? Changmin, what do we do?”
The elevator arrived on the seventh floor, and you half dragged Changmin toward your room. “The—the antid—antidote—”
“The antidote! We have an antidote?” You didn't have time to question him as you retrieved your room card from within your dress and barged into the hotel suite.
You deposited Changmin onto the floor as quickly and carefully as you could, hands shaking as you helped to take his shirt off so he could breathe.
“Safe,” he gasped to you.
“The safe? Fuck, what's the code?” You asked, clambering to your feet and racing over to the black box in the wall.
You heard him choke out the four digits, and the safe swung open without ceremony. You rifled around the contents and retrieved an aluminum foil packet with a slim syringe inside. “Found it!” You cried and practically slid across the floor to get back to him.
You ripped the packet open as Changmin's breathing continued to shallow, his skin paling, and his body growing weaker. His left palm had landed somewhere on his thigh—inject here.
“Shit,” you swore, grimacing to yourself before stabbing the syringe into his leg.
As soon as the liquid was gone, all you could do was pray.
But the storm clouds were beginning to clear, and color slowly returned to Changmin's face. You sank back onto your heels, relief and adrenaline coursing through you.
“Fucking hell, that was a close—”
White hot pain flashed through you as something—someone—grabbed you by your hair and yanked. Your scream pierced through the silence, and it was nearly enough to wake the dead.
They were dragging you backward toward the door, and you reached up to claw at their hands, your skull feeling as if it was being pulled into a million directions while being set ablaze, all at once.
“Let—go!” You screeched, thrashing around. You couldn't see your captor, but they suddenly released their grip on you.
Relief was short-lived.
Your head whipped to the side as a shoe met your cheek. Stars danced in your vision, and you cried out in pain—and then you begged. You were certain Changmin was still recovering, hardly in a state to save you, and desperation began to claw itself into your heart.
Your body was hoisted up beneath your armpits and you squirmed, fighting for your life.
For a second, you were sure you heard Changmin call out your name.
You threw your elbow back into your attacker's face, then tried the back of your head—the sound of pain and bones cracking echoing in your eardrum.
“You bitch!” They roared, loosening their grip to feel their broken nose.
You were a mess as you landed on the ground. A gleam of silver caught your eye. The gun.
Adrenaline seized you and you made a mad dash for the table where the gun was stowed beneath.
Your opponent caught your ankle and dragged you back down to earth. There was no time to mourn over bruised knees and limbs, and you kicked your heels out behind you in a blind fury, desperate to get away.
“Yn—”
“Please,” you screamed, begged. Whoever that was—you just wanted this to end. Fear coursed through you as your body began moving backwards and was dragged back to the door.
You dug your fingers against the polished ground, unsuccessfully gaining purchase. You clutched at a chair leg and dragged it along with you, and felt the hand around your ankle tighten—
With all your strength, you took the chair and heaved it back toward your captor. He let out a garbled swear, only agitated by your continued resistance. The hand around your ankle disappeared and you took it as an opportunity to get away.
“Not so fast.”
Your body hit the ground, the back of your head making purchase against stone. This time, you saw your assailant—he was one of the guards from earlier, likely working under Le Chiffre's orders. Blood dribbled down his lower face, courtesy of your retaliation.
“I should just kill you here and now,” he growled and enclosed his meaty hands around your neck. “Won't make a difference.”
You struggled against him, but to no avail. Your windpipe was being crushed and your vision blurred.
You thrashed and scratched and kicked—this was the end. Oh god, was this the end?—
A shot rang out.
Air slowly began seeping into your airway and you hacked a cough around the hands that had fallen away from your throat.
The dead body above you was heavy and sticky, and the smell of iron permeated your nose like a nightmare. You didn't even realize your cheeks were damp until you blinked and tears filled your eyes.
You nearly died just then.
With a suppressed sob, you shoved the dead body off you with all of your remaining strength.
There, by the table, was Changmin and the smoking gun in his hand. He still looked only half conscious, but he'd managed to get himself to sit up with pure willpower, enough to reach the gun stashed beneath the table, and to aim and fire a shot.
The room was quiet for a few moments, other than the persistent ringing in your ears.
Then you let yourself cry—it shook through your body and shoulders in violent sobs.
Changmin's chest clenched painfully at the sound, and the gun clattered out of his hand so he could crawl his way over to you. His hair, his face, his clothes were all dampened in sweat and the empty syringe laid abandoned on the floor. He made it over to where you were, the red of your dress mixed with the blood of a dead man, and held your body close to his.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered against your hair, lips pressed against your crown. “You’re okay; we're okay now,” he promised.
With his strength slowly returning to him, Changmin sat himself upright and let your body lean against him. You grappled onto him so tightly, as if he might slip out of your grasp.
It was almost thirty minutes later that you and Changmin returned to the poker game. With some gentle coaxing, he got you into the shower to wash the blood away, but you couldn't get the icky feeling clinging to you. He'd been gentle, though, letting you sit beneath the stream in your dress as he got onto the shower floor with you to run the water and soap through your hair.
In his hold, he rocked you gently through the tremors. “No one's gonna hurt you anymore, sweetheart,” he rasped. Never again, not if he could help it.
You'd never seen him like that—all the tenderness in his gaze out in the open.
And you'd only seen it when you glanced up at him once; the rest of the time, you tucked your chin to your knees, staring at a tile.
Unnerved but still alive, you entered the room with another clean dress, and Changmin with another clean set of clothes. You returned to your place beside Juyeon, and Changmin went back to the table to face Le Chiffre.
Le Chiffre, however, looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His eyes had widened just a millimeter, but it was enough.
Changmin dragged up the sleeves of his dress shirt, a predatorial-like gleam in his eyes. You almost killed me. Even worse, you dared to lay a dirty hand on her. “Sorry about that,” he drawled, gaze lifting to meet Le Chiffre's, “seemed that last hand nearly killed me.”
His opponent swallowed.
The game resumed.
With the final phase in play, the dealer announced that there could be no more buy-ins. Juyeon had fetched you a drink, which you were most grateful for, and Changmin avoided all beverages for the remainder of the game.
“Everything alright?” Juyeon asked you quietly as you chugged your drink.
“Perfectly.” You handed the drink off to a waiter nearby and smiled tightly. “We were just strategizing on how to murder this game.” You hoped he didn't hear the tremor in your voice.
As the final round approached, each of the four finalists that were left alive were asked to make their bets. Each player slowly, but surely, slid all of their remaining chips into the center.
Everyone was all in.
“Reveal your cards, if you please.”
One by one, the cards in each player's hand was turned. The room held its collective breath as Le Chiffre revealed an ace and a six—a fuller house, with three aces and two sixes.
All that was left were Changmin's.
With little more than an arched brow, he slid his cards apart: a five and seven, both of which were spades. When joined together with the rest, they made—
“A straight flush,” announced the dealer. “Monsieur Ji wins the game.”
Cheers and applause rang out throughout the room as the game finally came to a close. Relief soared through you, and you shook hands with Juyeon at Changmin's success. Perhaps twenty million had been spent, but it all meant that you had won back that money in full.
From your standpoint, you couldn't see Le Chiffre's reaction, but he didn't look pleased. He stormed out of the room only moments later.
Changmin was swift to join the two of you, his hand coming to lie on your shoulder. “We should go after him,” he said.
Juyeon nodded, expression sobering. “You're right.”
“I'm going with you,” you told him. Already anticipating his refusal, you shut him down with a look. Though you might have been shaken from the night's near-death experience, it only seemed to steel over your resolve to catch this bastard. “I'm safer with you; don't try to argue with me.”
He knew you were right—you saw the reluctant agreement in his eyes. He grunted, “Okay, but you're staying behind me the entire time and when I say run, you better run.”
You patted his chest and followed after Juyeon. “Of course.”
The three of you raced after Le Chiffre in the direction he disappeared. He'd gone up to the second floor via the grand staircase in the lobby, but neither you nor the other boys knew which direction he went from there. The second floor was damn near close to a labyrinth.
“We split up,” Changmin declared. “Me and Yn go one way and Juyeon takes the other.”
“Wait, Juyeon goes alone?” You butted in. “Le Chiffre is dangerous and desperate; that combination isn't good for anybody.”
“None of us have any weapons either,” Juyeon pointed out.
Changmin gestured to you. From beneath the skirt of your new dress, you withdrew the pistol from earlier out into the light. After what happened in your suite, the both of you thought it best to let security measures be damned and holster a gun to your inner thigh. And now, it was proving to be the right decision.
Juyeon deadpanned, amending, “I don't have a weapon.”
“Then you should go get one,” Changmin said smartly. You rolled your eyes at him.
“I—shit.” Juyeon huffed in frustration. “Goddamn it. You better hold your promise, Ji.”
“My word is gold,” Changmin swore as you passed him the pistol. “We'll find Le Chiffre; you call for backup.”
With that matter settled, you grabbed Changmin's hand and set off in one direction.
His fingers tightened around you as you stuck close behind him. The corridor was hauntingly quiet with not a soul around. You and Changmin trudged onward and kept your eyes and ears open for anybody hiding behind a corner or waiting to enact revenge on your poker victory tonight.
The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood erect, heart thundering loudly in your ears.
So loud, that you almost missed it.
You caught Changmin's eyes. Did you hear that?
There it was—it sounded like voices coming from a room further down the hall.
“—please, just a few more weeks, and I can get you your money back!”
A muffled response in return.
“NO! I swear, I'll do better! I have another i—”
You never heard the end of Le Chiffre's offer. There was only the sound of a metallic swish, followed by a dull weight hitting the ground. A body.
Your breath hitched as you and Changmin looked around wildly for a swift exit or cover. There was an emergency stairwell just a few doors down.
Changmin grabbed you and booked it.
Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed you against the open doorway, eyes flickering somewhere behind you to watch the door the voices had come from.
“Do you trust me?” He asked, eyes furiously searching your own.
You didn't have to think about it. “Yes.”
Just as a door opened in the hallway, Changmin cupped your jaw with his hand, braced himself against the doorway with the other, and kissed you.
Your eyes fluttered closed upon immediate impact and you felt your heart leap into your throat. His lips moved gently against your own, as if afraid of breaking you, and his hand moved down from your jaw to wrap around your waist to pull you flush against him.
One moment you were melting into his embrace, and the next, he was shoving you behind the other side of the doorway for cover.
A war cry rang out—not Changmin, you realized—as a body blurred past you and was thrown into the stairwell's metal railing. Your soul nearly left your body, head turning in time to throw yourself out of the way of the incoming bodies.
Changmin brawled and grappled on the floor with a second man, a silver machete glistening in the dim light, only a few centimeters from his throat. The first man was slowly beginning to stand up, and your eyes tracked where Changmin's gun had skidded to the floor.
You swiped the gun up just as Changmin wrestled his opponent off him.
With adrenaline powering through you, you smashed the butt of the gun against the back of the man's skull. He crumpled to the cement—unconscious.
“Here,” you breathed, helping Changmin to his feet and shoving the gun into his hand.
He shook his dizziness away, eyes widened on something behind you. “YN, DUCK!”
You swore, and dropped to the ground, narrowly missing the arc of the first man's machete attempting to remove the head from your shoulders.
You dove down the first set of stairs to get out of the way of the fight, your knees and hands scraping against the cement and bruising.
The man with the machete attacked Changmin with reckless abandon, swinging his blade and striking the railing to make sparks fly. Changmin had no opening to use his firearm and—oh shit. They were coming this way.
“Yn, you better be fucking running.”
He didn't need to tell you twice. You tumbled down more stairs, ditching your heels as you went. You would be useless in this fight, so your best action would be to get the fuck out of the way.
Changmin's breath flew out of his chest as he hit the wall hard, then stuck his hands out in time to stop the assassin from impaling his head on the sword. Changmin drove his knee into his stomach, then threw him across the stairs to the opposite landing.
The fight clambered on down the spiral stairwell, metal clashing against metal, and bone and flesh grinding against stone. Changmin gritted his teeth as he fumbled backwards down the stairs, hitting the opposing wall with even more momentum.
He ducked—and missed another swing; and another; and another.
There was a kick to his gut, and his body went flying. His assailant took a leaping start and charged. Changmin grabbed at his hands again, desperately attempting to wrestle the machete away.
The weapon went sailing; that was his opening.
With pure adrenaline, Changmin fisted the man's shirt and flung him over whatever railing was left. You cursed as his body hit the basement floor with a thump.
Changmin tackled him as he attempted to climb to his feet. With the violent thrashing, Changmin ended up beneath him, his arm wrapped tightly around his opponent's neck, and he squeezed.
The man's arm flopped about, desperately reaching for the gun that scattered onto the floor from all the ruckus. If he could just reach it—
You lunged for the gun, tripping as the man clawed at your ankle to throw you off. You shrieked, swinging the barrel at his hand to knock it away.
When you finally managed to scramble backward, you watched the light fade in the assassin's eyes.
As soon as the man slumped in death, Changmin loosened his grip and crawled out from beneath the body.
You clambered over to him and helped him to his feet, his joints and muscles screaming as he attempted to straighten. He groaned, white-knuckling the railing, “Fucking hell.”
“Are you okay? Holy shit, Changmin,” you said, wrapping your arms around him to hold him up. There had been too many close calls there.
You passed a glance over at the corpse lying on the floor about a meter away from you. A shudder rippled down your spine, and you felt Changmin's hand on your forearm, like he knew.
From up above, you heard the sound of the stairwell door opening. The two of you peered straight upwards as a familiar face peered over the landing.
“Le Chiffre's dead,” said Juyeon. In his hand was a pistol; it seemed he finally retrieved his firearm.
“No shit,” you and Changmin replied simultaneously, chests heaving up and down in laborious panting.
Juyeon blinked, squinting his eyes to take in your appearances. “What the fuck happened to you guys?”
“Careful,” you called up to him, “that guy isn't dead.”
Juyeon jolted and he considered the body at his feet with new awareness.
You threw one of Changmin's arms around you to begin the ascent back up. “Can you—fuck. Is that yours?” You swore for the thousandth time tonight as you peered over at the growing dark splotch of red seeping through Changmin's shirt.
He hung his head as strength rapidly bled out of him with his own life force, and you carefully laid Changmin down on the ground.
“Juyeon!” You called out. “Juyeon, help!”
You heard rapid footsteps in the distance, but it faded to background noise as you ripped open Changmin's shirt and came face to face with the vicious knife wound in his abdomen. “Oh my god,” you whispered. God, there was so much blood.
“Cover the wound, Yn,” Juyeon said to you as he leapt down the final steps. “Fuck, this looks bad.”
“He must not have begun to feel it until the adrenaline was over,” you reasoned in a desperate attempt to keep your head on straight. Per Juyeon's instructions, you pressed your palms over the wound, bile rising in your throat from all the blood. “Changmin—Changmin, come on. Stay with me.”
He murmured something you couldn't hear, and you leaned your ear down over his lips. “Come on, talk to me, love. Tell me something, anything.”
His voice came out, barely there. “I'm… I'm glad I got—I got to see you again.”
And he would see you again. That was a promise you made to yourself, and to him, as Juyeon called for his reinforcements and you clung onto Ji Changmin's life with your own.
When Changmin came to, it was bright enough to blind him. There was a fuckass beam of sunlight shining right into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, wrinkling his face into a grimace. There was a violent throbbing in his abdominal area that ached when he attempted to roll over or sit up.
Was he dead?
“You're not dead.”
His body immediately relaxed into the sheets he was settled in. When his eyes grew accustomed to the god awful amount of light in the room, he was met by the sight of your face, silhouetted against the sun, and beautiful. “Are you sure? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you're an angel.”
Your palm came over to rest against his forehead, and his eyes fluttered shut. “You must still have that fever,” you teased.
When you both shared a laugh, he opened his eyes again.
It seemed he was in a hospital room—well, something akin to that. It looked more like a small bedroom was transformed into one, and he laid on the bed with a heart rate monitor hooked up to him on the side. You perched on the edge of his bed with a cardigan draped over your frame, and something soft in your eyes.
No, he was definitely in heaven. Maybe he didn't die, but he was in heaven.
Your expression sobered as your hand drifted down to caress the side of his face. “You lost a lot of blood,” you whispered. “I was really worried about you.”
Changmin brought his hand up to gently take your wrist and turn your palm inward, his lips meeting your hand in a butterfly kiss. “Hey, sweetheart. I'm alright now, see?” He intertwined your fingers, missing the feeling of how they felt interlocked in the hotel hallway.
The hotel hallway—the fight—Le Chiffre—the kiss. His lips seared at the memory, and he fought the urge to touch his lips at the phantom sensation.
“What happened?” He croaked out instead, gazing up at you. His heart tugged against its confines when he made out the shape of dark purple smudged against your cheekbone. It was the bruise forming from the guard who came after you, and it made Changmin ache to see.
Hurt, you'd been so hurt.
You shifted your body so you could tuck your feet onto the bed, too. “Juyeon came with reinforcements and we got you out of there as soon as possible. One of Le Chiffre's clients killed him—the guys you fought with in the stairwell. Apparently he'd used their money to buy into the game, and because he wasn't able to win, they killed him.”
Changmin stared up at the eggshell-colored ceiling. He supposed that would have been the tangible evidence needed to convict Le Chiffre, but his client was faster at acting as judge, jury, and executioner.
“M's on her way to meet with you,” you continued, your thumb gently tracing dizzying circles onto the back of his hand.
“To be expected,” he chuckled. He glanced back up at you. “How are you? Were you hurt at all?”
You shook your head. “No, nothing to your extent. There were a few scratches and bruises, but nothing time won't heal.”
“And everything else?” Your mental state, especially after all you went through, could not have been in a terrific place. If he could have prevented you from experiencing any of what happened, he would do it in a heartbeat.
The pure fear that speared through his chest when he thought you were about to die…
He had long since figured out that what he felt for you was not simply platonic. It was more—he yearned for more. Seeing you again after so long just made it worse.
You made a noncommittal noise. “I'll… I'll be alright.”
For a moment, the room filled with only silence and the white noise from the heart rate monitor. You suddenly perked up at something, and turned to reach over to grab an item from the side table. Changmin recognized the small laptop device from the poker game now seated on your lap.
“The money pit from the game was stored in escrow in a Swiss bank. A representative from the bank delivered this to us,” you explained, showing him the screen. It left room for a passcode to be filled in. “To the victor go the spoils, love.”
The nickname made him shudder and he forced himself into an upright position.
“Changmin—”
“I got it,” he countered and stubbornly gritted his teeth through the pain until he was seated against the headboard next to you. He clutched his injury, head knocked back against the wood. “Well? Wanna guess the password?”
You lifted your brows in amusement. “Do you know how many six letter combinations exist out there? For all I know, it was a random keyboard smash.”
He chuckled lowly, leaning his chin against your shoulder. “S.”
We're really doing this? You seemed to ask with the expression on your face. You humored him, though, pressing down on the S key.
“W.”
The letters that followed amounted to S-W-T-H-R-T. You were quiet for a second as you stared at the final combination; you didn't want to press the enter key just yet.
Changmin murmured against your shoulder. “I'm not one for corny messages, but that's a 'sweetheart’ if I've ever seen one.”
You were still quiet as you pressed enter and unlocked the winner's pot. There was no special celebration, no balloons or confetti—just a solid number with too many zeroes for your little heart to handle. Perhaps, in the end, there really was no amount of money in the world that could buy your company. Not if you freely gave it, at least.
Changmin felt his chest lurch. “Yn, sweetheart, say something.” He leaned off your shoulder so you could turn your body to face him, the laptop returning to its place on the side table.
“What should I say?” You asked, your fingers playing with his own in your two hands.
“I'm sorry if the kiss was too much.”
You faltered for a second. “It, uhm, it wasn't too much. I actually thought that it was nice.”
“You did?” He hated the way hope made him feel, how it made his heart sprout wings—maybe he was dead.
A small smile crawled onto your lips and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Maybe I did.” You raised a hand to the side of your face, an embarrassed groan falling out of your mouth. “God, I feel like a teenager with a crush again.”
“Giddy?”
“Pathetic,” you teased. You leaned your head against the headboard again as you looked over at him with the most beautiful gleam in your eyes he had ever seen.
He never understood the romanticizing of someone's eyes—what else had he ever discerned but fear or boredom? But he could hear your laugh just by seeing your smile reach your eyes, and he could feel the warmth spreading in his chest and making electricity zip down his spine from the tenderness in your irises.
He swallowed hard. “If you feel pathetic, then I am literally chopped liver,” he said. A surge of courage, the kind that was a trademark of his reputation, propelled his next words: “I'd like to kiss you again.”
Your eyes darted to his lips and he clung onto that detail as if he were hanging by a thread. “Because you saved the world, Agent 007, you can kiss the girl,” you mused.
You leaned over him slightly and cupped the back of his head, mouth meeting his own in a familiar dance. Even with his injury, he pushed back to meet you, and ignored the throbbing in his stomach, so he could haul you closer, over, around him. Anything to get you pressed up against him.
Real—you were real, and you were alive, and so was he.
a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! omg that permanent taglist looks SCARY 😭😭😭
tbz m.list
permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @deobi0412 @sunramzi @honeyrecommends @synthwxve @dearly-somber @empire-x @kflixnet
#🔎 — the 007 files#deoboyznet#kflixnet#the boyz x reader#ji changmin x reader#changmin x reader#the boyz oneshot#the boyz drabbles#the boyz imagines#the boyz scenarios#the boyz fanfic#changmin drabble#changmin oneshot#changmin angst#changmin scenarios#changmin imagines
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Hi, i just read the coochie unhooking and im in love omg 🥲💕 could we have another part with the huntress, pyra and a third one of your choice? Thank you, you're the best 👀💕
GAGAGAGGH YESSSS I LOVE THESE 😭 TARHOS HAS BEEN INFESTING MY BRAIN SO HE WILL BE THE LUCKY THIRD !!
ooc shit incoming this is literally abt them loving them thighs i do not gaf i tried to make them in character somewhat anyways hehe
could you tell i’m utterly obsessed w tarhos right now i wished i could’ve written more dear lord
i had already written this for huntress initially but i did want to revise it a bit to be more in character. still sort of experimenting with it all. enjoy though :)
♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎
Anna:
Straight confusion and a.. little bit of panic? She’s never had her prey attempt something like what you did. It catches her so off guard she practically thrashes around as much as you do to get you off of her. She doesn’t like feeling so vulnerable and very much does not appreciate it when you manage to escape the hook and her alike. She can’t shake that ghostly feeling of your thighs around her. It’s like you’re still there. She can’t discern whether she likes the feeling or not.
You’re interesting prey, prey that she enjoys hunting. She mostly does it for necessity and to please the Entity, but she likes you. She likes that. She especially likes your drive to survive. It amuses her, makes her curious about you. Anna would be angry about the ordeal thinking about it, but it simply makes her intrigued now. She simply can’t brush aside the concept of your thighs around her. It was like a warm embrace she hadn’t felt since she was a child. She likes it.
She decides she will observe you more. Watch as you speak in a language she doesn’t understand and interact with those she sees as nothing more than human animals. You’re afraid, but you’re also determined. It’s cute. Perhaps she’ll conveniently place herself near the hook she puts you on next time, just to feel you fight to survive, just to feel those thighs around her again.
Pyramid Head:
Pyramid Head would have absolutely never expected this to happen.. ever? Considering his absolute fridge of a head he’s.. startled to say the least that you managed to both effectively wrap your thighs around him AND have enough leg strength to take him down AND unhook yourself. It doesn’t all come to mind at first but he’s definitely a bit aroused. Unfortunately, that is an emotion that fades quite quickly. He has a job to do, he would very much like to get back to that. If he could get back up from the ground from his big ass helmet holding him down 😭
Pyramid Head is simply indifferent about the situation. A tiny bit excited at the though, but would quickly move on. It would certainly stay in his mind if you had done it several times over though. Some part of him is glad he has this unbearable helmet over his head, he might have had a full system shutdown had your thighs gotten too close to his face, though your thighs being around him in the first place is more than enough to turn him on a bit, not that he acts on it of course. He prioritizes his role in this realm more than anything else.
Though he won’t pass up the opportunity to listen to your cries of pain if given the chance. They didn’t mean much to him before. But now he rather likes the sound. He’d even say he rather likes you more than anything else. Maybe he should stick extra close to you from now on. Perhaps you’ll try other suggestive methods of trying to escape him. Either way, it feeds into his desire to punish and his desire for you.
Tarhos Kovács:
Tarhos is trained for moments like this, when the enemy has the upper hand. He cut through hundreds of swordsmen far more experienced than you could ever wish to be. He wields his imposing claymore and knows he strikes fear into those that dare cross him. He is anything but one to be so easily defeated. It should’ve been impossible for him to be taken down by someone in such a pathetic position as yourself. It has to be the Entity’s assistance. It has to be. He can barely get himself together again before you dash up the stairs and out of his reach. He grumbles and pushes himself up off the ground, more determined than ever to put you in your place.
You don’t survive the trial, but it’s very clear you did something to him. He’s angry, but there’s some other emotion, like a smoldering fire that was once not even worth a passing glance had suddenly burst into a wildfire. It could be confused with bloodlust. He can barely tell the difference between the two until he sees you again by the campfire next to those worthless maggots. He watches only for a moment and in that moment he wants more. He wants more of whatever you did to him.
He will never come to terms with these feelings. He believes it’s your fault. Your existence shouldn’t even be welcomed in this place. You can so easily disrupt the balance of death, sacrifice, bloodshed. He wants nothing to do with you if you think you can deter him from his rightful privilege of endlessly butchering such peasants as yourself. He hates you more than he hates Vittorio, he thinks. Vittorio was an imbecile who thought he had the answers to peace. But you? God, you actually do something to him and you don’t even have to try.
#dbd x reader#dead by daylight x reader#the huntress x reader#dbd anna x reader#pyramid head x reader#tarhos kovács x reader
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Here’s the thing about Timothy stoker
here it is the tim post
People who say tim is an asshole are partially correct.
People who say tim is ‘toxic’ are INCORRECT.
I am very strongly about this because. listen to me. okay.
SPOILERS UP TO TMA SEASON 3 AHEAD
Imagine BEING timothy stoker. After whats probaboy the secondmost traumatizing experience of your life in which you almost die if not by the worms then by the MEDICAL EMERGENCY (respiratory acidosis is a medical emergency :3) your body was put into- plagued with nightmares and the pain of your body being covered in holes and your medical issues, you come back to the archives expecting to see your best friend, That will make it all better. It’ll be so worth it once you can see her again.
And then she acts so distant. And you dont know why.
And you have just lost your friendship. The one that’s kept you going this whole time. The one you were starting to believe might have been unbreakable. And you Don’t. Know. Why.
Eventually after many failed attempts to reconnect, you resign yourself to the fact that she just got tired of you. That you were right this whole time. That she just pitied you. You still don’t know what you did wrong and it’s eating you alive, but she won’t tell you, so you have to settle with pretending to be glad that she’s at least alive, All while your boss is literally going insane and STALKING YOU???
Only to find out after a YEAR of believing you were just unlovable that this person? The person youve been trying to ‘reconnect’ with? That isnt your best friend, Your best friend dies and you never noticed. How could you not notice? But when you see the real picture of her she feels like a stranger and you realize you have no fucking escape from your horrible, unforgivable sin of forgetting your friend. Because no matter what you do, trying to look back at your memories, that *thing* is there instead. You can’t even enjoy your memories before she died.
So you sit there, alone and afraid. Angry, grieving, everything else. What are you supposed to do but make the thing that has haunted you since the disappearance of your Brother feel the kind of pain it is making you feel?
Tim isn’t toxic. Hell I wouldn’t even say he’s that much of an asshole.
He’s a hurt child.
Mentally, especially in season three, he’s having the equivalent of a child’s breakdown. The kind they have when they don’t know how to express the emotions they’re feeling. These emotions- this grief, this anger, this pain- it’s so big, it’s so much, and he feels so small, so incapable and weak, and he cannot properly handle it. He cannot cope. Especially since he’s still somewhat trapped in who he was when his brother was taken.
Now im not saying the way he went about this is at all great, but yknow. Everyone forgives reactions to trauma until they’re personally inconvenient or ugly.
Tim lost everything, and honestly i would be pretty damn similar if I was in his position! That’s DEVASTATING.
In the end, there’s such a horrible tragedy to his entire character that goes almost entirely unnoticed unless you’re like me and you’re insane and overanalyze someone based on one word in an extra audio thats not in the podcast.
Anyways, that’s why I love Tim.
#tma#tma podcast#tma spoilers#the magnus archives#timothy stoker#timsasha#if you squint#He makes me ill#Jonny you absolute madman stop writing so well#every time I think abt tma i just get really upset#this is why the fandom is all shitposts#long post#character analysis#This whole thing stemmed from the audio of tim at sashas grave#specifically the part where he goes#‘I just thought you had finally gotten tired of me or something’#That ‘finally’ is EVERYTHING. you dont understand.#It says SO MUCH about him and his true self in ONE WORD#Tim is a guy who copes w his horrific trauma and fear of vulnerability by making jokes and it shows.#I miss him.
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