damn... kinda mad i didn't die in my dream last night... could've added another method to the list

єxτrατєrrєsτriαℓ (ραrк sєσทgнωα) rατє∂

ραiriทg: αℓiєท! ραrк sєσทgнωα (ατєєʑ)× нυмαท! rєα∂єr (ƒємαℓє)

gєทrє: αทgsτ, ƒℓυƒƒ, sмυτ, ∂ysτσρiαท/ sci-ƒi/ ƒαทταsy αυ

sυммαry: ωнєท τнєy cαмє αท∂ iทvα∂є∂ τнєir ρℓαทєτ, нυмαทiτy ∂єscєท∂є∂ iทτσ cнασs αท∂ iทsαทiτy, нυทτiทg τнєм ∂σωท αท∂ vσωiทg τσ rєταкє τнєir нσмє. нσωєvєr, y/ท ∂σєsท'τ вєℓiєvє τнєy αrє ∂αทgєrσυs, ทστ αƒτєr sєєiทg σทє υρ cℓσsє αท∂ ρєrsσทαℓ.

ωσr∂ cσυทτ: 5к+

ωαrทiทgs: ∂ysτσρiαท sσciєτy, viσℓєทcє, αℓℓυsiσทs τσ ∂єατн, мαss ∂єsτrυcτiσท, єxτrατєrrєsτriαℓ вєiทgs, sℓigнτ нyρทστisм, кiทєτic ρσωєrs, sυρєrทατυrαℓ scєทєs, sєxυαℓ scєทєs iทcℓυ∂iทg вriєƒ вrєαsτ ρℓαy, ƒiทgєriทg, αท∂ υทρrστєcτє∂ sσƒτ, vαทiℓℓα iทτєrcσυrsє (αℓωαys υsє ρrστєcτiσท єvєท iƒ yσυ'rє ƒυcкiทg αท є.τ).

iทsρirατiσท: є.τ вy кατy ρєrry

ταgℓisτ: @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @galaxteez @brie02 @a-soft-hornytiny @deja-vux @rvse-miingi @daniblogs164 @couchpotatoaniki

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The world forever remembered the day when the sun suddenly went dark when it wasn't even close to being evening yet. The darkness that shrouded the city made them anxious, which then turned to fear when shining beams of light suddenly passed through the sky and fell onto various parts of the earth. At first they thought they were shooting stars or even asteroids that were there to destroy the planet. But alas, masses of rock from space don't have a perfectly oval shape and neither do they have blinking lights covering most of the base. And they certainly don't have strange beings coming out of them. When humanity saw the otherworldly creatures, they immediately went into panic, running for their lives, not wanting to find out or not if they were intelligent, friendly or were cold blooded killers. They simply shut themselves away, causing chaos amongst their land and hurting each other more than anything else.

Y/N definitely remembered that day but for different reasons. At the time, she was in the outskirts of the city, perched on top of a tree as she usually did to escape the bustling city life she was used to. Half daydreaming and half asleep, her leg swung idly as the warmth of the sun casted down on her face. She was jolted fully awake when something like thunder resonated from the heavens, her eyes immediately finding her surroundings to be pitch black. She squinted her eyes, trying to adjust her sight. A colossal spaceship landed near where she was, causing the earth to shake and she let out a piercing scream when she tumbled down from the tree, her knee getting scraped in the fall.

She let out a pained groan as she tried to get back up, but her legs gave out from how badly she was hurting. Looking up, her eyes went wide when a door opened from the ship, cold smoke blasting out and some of it reaching where she was, making her cough softly. She held her breath when several figures started pouring out of the ship, all of them scattering towards different directions. They all donned the same white uniform, their faces covered by a gaiter styled face covering in the same color. When one of them started nearing where she was, her feet scrambled to get up and hide. Only managing to take two steps before she tripped once more, the extraterrestrial turned his head in the direction of the sound and proceeded to go investigate.

Realizing that she had been caught, Y/N gripped onto the trunk of the tree, nails scraping so harshly that she felt blood trickling down. Finally able to stand upright, she turned once more to run but was stopped when two hands slammed against the tree, trapping her in place. The poor girl trembled in fear as two cold eyes looked straight at her. Scanning her body, the being's eyes took in her damaged knee, blood pouring out as some of the skin and tissue was badly torn off. Getting down on one knee, the being took off one its gloves that covered its hand before reaching out to press against her wound. Y/N flinched when they made contact with her scrape and nearly kicked them away but when a purple light emanated from their hand she stood still to see what would happen. When the otherworldly creature pulled its hand away, she was in shock when she saw that her knee was completely healed, not a scratch as if nothing had happened, as if she didn't suffer a nasty fall.

"How...how did you..?" She whipped her head towards the person or non-person in front of her, had gotten up and was slowly creeping their body closer to hers.

The being murmured out some words in a language she did not recognize, and she knew it wasn't just caused by the covering around their face. She gasped sharply when they suddenly pressed her back onto the tree, hands firmly keeping her in place. Once establishing that she would not run away anytime soon, the extraterrestrial lifted one hand up and pulled its covering off. Y/N was speechless as she gazed up into the most beautiful and perfect face she had ever seen. The being's face seemed to be perfectly sculpted to perfection by gods themselves. Blade straight nose, chiseled jawline and sharp angled eyes perfectly complimented each other and distinguished them as someone not from her world.

Before she could even comprehend what they were doing, she felt their hands cup her cheeks as they pressed their pink and soft lips against her own. When she tried to pull away, the creature only clung her tighter to them, their kiss becoming more forceful, tongue dipping inside her mouth which had her moaning. It seemed the extraterrestrial noticed the effect they were having on her since she could feel them smirking against her lips, and indeed they were still smirking when they pulled away and looked back at her. They curiously studied her face, as if they were trying to figure out something.

"Y/N? Is it?"

She was startled when she heard them say something she understood and even more so that they knew her name.

"You actually....speak my language?" She asked them.

The extraterrestrial chuckled softly.

"I do now."

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8 months had passed ever since the aliens first invaded the world, and things only went from bad to worse. The government fell in the hands of civilians who decided to take control after they failed in not only giving them answers but in failing to drive the intruders away. Without a proper leader to govern them, the people just ran rampant through the streets, criminal activity and violence escalating each day that passed. The only real form of leadership or organization that still was existed was the Resistance force, a group of individuals who had gathered together to fight off all the aliens, which always resulted in unnecessary attacks and bloodshed. And unfortunately for Y/N, her own father was one of the ones leading that force.

She shook her head everytime she watched him and all the other people march off in search of extraterrestrials, hoping to demolish them once and for all. Every time they went out, very few returned, but that wasn't the part that worried her.

What worried her was imagining if her friend was one of the few extraterrestrials that had been taken down, because as she'd learn, they were definitely capable of being killed. She let out a sigh and closed the blinds of the kitchen window to continue her task of washing dishes. It seemed that was her life from now on, attending to the house while her dad was away fighting off beings who were actually harmless as she soon learned. But of course, she could never say anything about it, one because no one would believe her given how brainwashed and unreceptive they were and two, which was the most important one, she had promised her otherworldly friend not to spill anything about the mission they were currently carrying out and she intended to keep that promise.

"Aliens! They're here!"

Hearing the frantic commotion outside that was followed by a loud blaring of sirens and shotguns being fired, Y/N ducked and stayed away from any windows or any glass. She slowly crawled her way out the door and went outside, as stupid as it was but whenever there was an attack such as these ones, she always went out to ensure no child was wandering the streets and accidentally got caught in the action. She didn't care that she was risking her own life in doing so.

She carefully ran through alleys, taking cover behind walls or dropping to the ground when she heard shots being fired. It had become a lot easier for her now than it was in the beginning. Peeking her head out, she was relieved to see that most of the civilians had already cleared themselves out. But her relieve was short lived when she saw a white uniformed figure fall in the middle of the street, their hand clutching their left side which was stained blue, clear indication they were seriously wounded. Even with their face covered, she recognized their eyes right away.

"Seonghwa." She whispered softly, panic rising in her when she heard more shots being fired in his direction.

Looking at the other side, her face paled when she saw that it was none other than her own dad who was pursuing him, gun in his hand as he reloaded bullets in them. She looked back towards Seonghwa, who was trying to desperately heal himself faster, but was running out of time. With her dad getting closer and aiming his gun right at him, Y/N didn't even think and bolted out of her hiding place, heading straight towards her father.

"Dad don't!" She exclaimed as she tipped over his gun, causing him to shoot instead towards the opposite direction. Both of them hit the pavement with the strength she used to make sure he didn't hurt her friend.

"Y/N! Get off me!" Her father grunted as he shoved her off his body. Grabbing a hold of his gun once more, he made way to aim once more at his enemy but unfortunately he was too late. When he looked back, he was surrounded by two other extraterrestrials, one of them holding a small device that he threw onto the ground which helped them teleport out of there instantly, leaving behind nothing but a faint cloud of smoke.

Livid at having his prey taken away from his hands, he turned his attention back to his daughter who was barely standing up. When she lifted her head up, she was instantly struck back to the floor as the brute force of her father's fist against her face knocked her down.

"You stupid bitch! You let them get away!"

Each kick laid against her stomach was felt not only by her but by the extraterrestrial being that had connected his mind with hers. From miles away, inside one of the space crafts, he cried out in pain and clutched his abdomen as he felt each and every one of the violent acts laid on her body. With raging and glowing eyes, he pulled off all the wires and needles connected to his body and stormed out of the room, ignoring the protests coming out of the medical team that was tending to his wounds.

"Seonghwa! Stop! You're not healed yet!" One of his comrades tried to stop him.

"I don't care Hongjoong! Y/N is in trouble and I need to save her!" He tried to pry off the other male's fingers off him.

"You can't go! It's too risky. You'll get caught." He tried to reason with Seonghwa.

"If I don't go she could die! She saved me and now I must go save her!"

Having left with no other choice, Hongjoong used his supernatural strength to pin his friend to the wall, keeping him locked in there with no way to escape.

"Yes you must, but now is not the time! You're hurt, if you go now you'll only get yourself killed and then what will happen to her?"

Seonghwa's lip quivered in rage and hurt. He was unable to speak let alone move. He looked down at the floor and wept softly, his mind filled with images of her bruised and bloodied body in agony and pain after the beating she just endured. He knew in such a state, he couldn't even contact her telepathically.

"There's only a few more days until we have to leave back to the home planet. Our mission will be completed and if you still want..... you can take her back with you."

Seonghwa whipped his head up at Hongjoong's words, but before he could get his hopes up, Hongjoong raised a hand.

"Only if she wants to. You can't force, hypnotize nor abduct her. Am I clear?"

Seonghwa immediately nodded.

"Yes Hongjoong."

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Y/N laid in her bed, body still sore even though 2 days had already passed since that awful day. Her sides would ache if she put too much strain on them, but at least she was finally able to walk again. What she really wanted to know was how Seonghwa was doing. Was he all right? Was he too injured? Did he make it? Or did he..?

She pulled her blanket over her face to keep herself from thinking such things. She only wished he'd talk to her like he usually did at night. It was funny considering the first time she heard his voice in her head she was beyond freaked out, but now she had grown accustomed to it, sometimes even scolding him for bugging her so much.

"Are you awake?"

She couldn't keep the smile of her face as she finally heard his voice after so long. But wanting to play it cool, she forced a huff out of her mouth.

"I am now no thanks to you weirdo." She responded, her voice sounding grumpy and making Seonghwa chuckle.

"You know I'm not that knowledgeable with your language yet, so I'm not sure what that word means, but I'm deducing it's not a compliment." He asserted.

"How can you still not know what some words mean? Didn't you suck the language out of me when you slipped your tongue inside my mouth months ago? Wasn't that enough?" She chastised him, yet her cheeks flushed pink as she recalled the first time they met and he greeted her with a kiss, which she ended up finding out was a method his kind employed to be able to understand and talk to beings that spoke differently from them.

"We only grasp the basics, our abilities only stretch so far." He calmly explained.

Y/N sat up and tugged at different ends of her blanket.

"Does that mean you've gone around on other planets kissing other people?" She questioned him, her voice tinted with a hint of jealousy at the thought of Seonghwa kissing someone else.

"I may have kissed other kinds, but I can assure you that you're the only one I've used tongue with." He smirked to himself as he read her thoughts.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" She felt bitter knowing he had indeed gone around kissing other people.

"Well no... but that little action helped create the mind link with you. Lip to lip contact with another creature helps us communicate with them, adding tongue is a way to communicate and connect telepathically with the individual. Hence why I have been talking to you and vice versa without having to utter a single word. That and I can see what's going on in that tiny head of yours." He finished with a suspicious snort that unsettled her.

"Does that mean... you've been reading my thoughts all these months?" She fidgeted nervously.

"Some, not all. Although I've accidentally stumbled upon some that are rather..... interesting if you ask me."

Y/N whined as she slumped her face into her pillow and let out a high pitched scream. She felt so embarrased knowing he probably knew some of the explicit thoughts she's had at times that involved him.

"Do me a favor and take one of your laser guns and just vaporize me out of this world." She begged him.

"I'm afraid protocol doesn't allow me to vaporize any individuals without proper cause. So you're stuck with knowing that I know that you want me to-"

"Ok stop! Please don't finish that sentence and pretend like what you saw in my head wasn't real." She sighed.

"As you wish."

Seonghwa stayed quiet for a while, biting his lower lip as he pondered about how to approach his next subject. He knew it was now or never.

"Hey Y/N?" He asked softly.

"Yeah?" She responded.

"Can you..... do you think you could meet me in the place we first met?"

Y/N looked out her window and saw that it was past the curfew established by the Resistance, no doubt most of them standing guard at every street and corner, making sure everyone stayed indoors while keeping watch.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to get out without being caught."

"I thought just as much."

Before she knew it, Seonghwa appeared right in front of her bed, making her shriek as she pulled her blanket to cover body up. She was about to ask him what was going on, but he was faster as he took hold of her wrist before transporting them both in the outskirts of the city in the blink of an eye. Y/N cowered and shivered when she felt the night breeze blow, her arms wrapping around herself since she had gone to bed wearing nothing but black panties and a flimsy white tank top that left little to the imagination for anyone who saw her chest. And seeing the extraterrestrial looking intently at her, she knew he was taking in her state of near undress.

"Please tell me you don't have laser vision that let's you see under my clothes." She squinted at him.

"Some of my kind do posses that ability, but I'm not one of them....." Stepping closer to her, he tilted her chin up and grinned smugly.

"Unfortunately."

"Why you little perv-" She was cut off mid sentence when Seonghwa inexplicably wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a tight embrace.

"You're cold, let me warm you up."

She indeed started to feel heat being produced from his body which started to flow into her own. It felt so nice, not only having him act as a personal heater but to just have him hold her after having to go through endless shit day after day. Closing her eyes, she rested her head on his shoulder, slowly drifting off to sleep right then and there. One of Seonghwa's hands was busying itself by softly brushing her hair, being careful not to accidentally pull any out. He stayed like that for a few minutes before finally blurting out:

"The mission is finished. We'll be leaving at dawn tomorrow."

Y/N felt her heart sink when she heard him say that.

"So....bringing me here was so you could say goodbye?" She lifted her head off his shoulders and stared at the ground with a blank expression.

"Well it depends..."

Y/N raised an eyebrow when he paused.

"Depends on what?" She urged him to finish.

"If you wanna leave this place and come with me." He offered, his eyes growing rounder as he hoped she'd say yes.

Y/N looked at him in disbelief.

"Are you being serious right now or is this some kind of alien joke?"

Seonghwa nodded in earnest.

"Deadly serious. I want you to come to my home with me. I know.... I hope you'll like it. It's not that different from your planet, although you know the technology is more advanced and flying cars and what not..."

When he saw that she wasn't budging, Seonghwa gulped nervously.

"But the location I live in is a more... tropical one. The water is sparkling blue, the glittering sand is warm to the touch, and the weather is always cool and refreshing. Wouldn't you like to live in a place like that with me?" He spoke those last two words out softly but he knew she definitely heard them.

He could hear and see her thoughts, debating whether or not it would be wise to leave with him or not. She looked behind her towards the city she lived in, almost in complete ruin with possibly no hope of redemption.

"There's nothing left for me here, is there?" She asked to herself rather than to him.

When she looked back at him, there was still a hint of doubt in her mind. Clasping his hands on her head, Seonghwa's thumbs rubbed circles on her temples as his orbs started turning a light yellow color.

"Please come with me. Stay with me and live with me." He spoke out softly, his voice having a light melodic tune to it.

Y/N felt herself getting immensely drawn to him, her thoughts beginning to fill up with images of staying by his side. It was as if she was getting pulled to him against her will.

"Wait..... Are you using hypnosis on me?!" She exclaimed in anger, pushing him away when she realized what was going on.

"It was worth a try." He admitted in defeat, head hung low in shame.

"Since you failed miserably..... I'll spare you the humiliation and accept to go with you."

Seonghwa widened his eyes when he heard her.

"Wait, for real?"

Y/N responded by placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Don't make me regret my decision though or I'll steal your laser gun and vaporize you." She warned him.

Lacing his fingers with hers, Seonghwa nudged her to follow him.

"I promise you won't."

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Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the bed she was currently in, alternating between wrapping herself with the blanket and kicking it off a second later. She was still in the middle of her fight with the covers that she failed to notice the door opened and her current roommate walk into their small compartment. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her struggle with an amusing smirk.

"Having fun there?" He broke her out of her trance.

"I can't sleep, I feel like I'm developing claustrophobia from mostly staying inside these 4 walls, and I'm still suffering from motion sickness." She grumbled, 1 week and she had still not adjusted to being inside an intergalactic spacecraft with no one but extraterrestrial beings to keep her company.

"Anything else you'd like to add?" Seonghwa raised an eyebrow.

Y/N pouted her lips and stared up at him with puppy dog eyes.

"I'm lonely and want company?"

Unable to resist, Seonghwa faked an exhausted sigh as he began taking off his jacket.

"I'm off my piloting duties anyway, might as well get some rest before my next shift."

Finally happy at having someone by her side, Y/N made some space on the bed for Seonghwa to fit in, although she wondered if it would be big enough for the both of them since it was a rather compacted area. When she looked back at Seonghwa, she nearly wheezed when she saw him sliding right next to her completely bare. Catching her staring, Seonghwa continued on as if it was the most normal thing in the universe.

"What? Don't you humans go to sleep the same way we do?"

Y/N covered her red cheeks and turned her face away from him.

"N-no....we wear clothes when sleeping." She explained, body heating up from embarrassment. Seonghwa replied with a slight gruff.

"Seems impractical."

Wrapping one arm around her body, Seonghwa pulled Y/N down on the bed and held her close to him, his breath fanning against the nape of her neck.

"Try to rest." He suggested.

Y/N wondered how on earth was she supposed to rest knowing the extraterrestrial being was pressing his bare chest against her back? She tried hard not to move in fear of accidentally brushing along his cock.

"Wait, do aliens have dicks? I didn't really get a good look between his legs. I just saw abs and looked away."

Her thoughts began spiraling deeper and deeper into not so pure territory. She began wondering about Seonghwa's anatomy. Do his kind even have reproductive organs? Do they even have sex? What if he could produce tentacles out of his body that would suction onto parts of her body like some of the kinky hentai she watched a long time ago? That thought aroused her more than it should. How would it feel to have Seonghwa's tentacles latch onto her nipples and suckle them as another one slithered inside her core and probe around until it made a mess of her? She clenched her thighs inadvertently as her mind started to produce more and more dangerous scenes.

She was startled when she heard the alien behind her laugh softly.

"I hate to interrupt your sexual fantasy foolish human girl, but my kind do not possess the ability to produce the slimy limbs that you are imagining."

She had completely forgotten that their minds were still linked and if he wanted to, he could still read her mind. She buried her face deeper in the pillow, wanting to cry out in shame.

"I do apologize for that inconvenience, I'm afraid the closest you can get is my hands around you."

Y/N half gasped half moaned when she felt one of Seonghwa's large hands snake inside her sweater and cup her breast. His thumb tweaked at her nipple, giving it experimental tugs and pinches until finally settling for simply rubbing them since it seemed to produce more effects on her body. He listened intently to the way her breath hitched with every brush of his thumb and squeeze of her soft skin, feeling her body start to get warmer just for him.

"Isn't this what you wanted? I remember you often fantasized about having my hands all over you." He recalled all those times where he refused to go to sleep because he was too busy prying into her erotic thoughts that included him.

"Y-yes..." She breathed out.

"Did you only want them here?"

Y/N whined and shook her head.

"No.... want them- want them..." She felt embarrased to say it out loud even if she did have Seonghwa groping her chest, so she hoped he'd read her mind and give her what she wanted. Obviously he got the hint since he moved his hand and slipped it inside her shorts. Pushing her panties aside, Y/N groaned when he dipped two fingers past her slick folds. She was so unbelievably wet that even with the slow movements he was making, they could still faintly hear the squealching sounds that were being produced.

"Right here? This where you want them?" Adding a third finger inside, he drove them deeper inside her body as their pace intensified, the slopping noises becoming louder.

Y/N bit down on the sleeve of her sweater to muffle the moans that were spilling out, afraid of anyone hearing what was going on.

"Don't worry about anyone else, just focus on the way my fingers are invading your most intimate places. Tell me does it feel good? Do you like it?" He asked as his lips kissed across the side of her neck.

"Feels so good- I love it." She sighed blissfully as his fingers continued to swirl around her hole, tips curling so they could graze at her g-spot.

"Want to feel something even better?"

Y/N hummed in affirmation and allowed Seonghwa to move her onto her back. He surprised her when all he needed to do was tap twice against her clothes and they immediately vanished from her body, leaving her completely naked under him.

"How long have you been waiting to do that?" She eyed him suspiciously when his lips curled upwards in a cheeky grin.

"Far too long."

Cupping her cheeks, Seonghwa kissed her, almost like the first time when he came to her home, but this time the kiss was more passionate and full of raw emotions. He took his time and didn't slip his tongue inside her mouth, instead he wanted to savor how soft and plump her lips felt against his own, pulling away every few minutes only to catch his breath before diving back in to mold his mouth over hers. They were so lost in their heated kissing and tangled bodies, that they forgot they were both in their most intimate state until Seonghwa's member brushed along her slippery folds.

"Oh god-." Y/N stammered as her hips grinded up to feel more of Seonghwa, who had a proud smirk on his face.

"Are you going to be ok with an extraterrestrial being breeding you with his cock?"

Y/N grimaced slightly at his choice of words.

"Is that what you guys call it?"

"Well what do you guys call it?" He questioned.

"We like to call it fucking." She giggled.

Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows as his hands lifted her legs up to wrap them around his waist.

"I don't like it, sounds too impersonal and distant."

The cry coming out of Y/N's throat cracked and only half sounded when Seonghwa stuffed her full of his cock, his size stretching her out in a delicious sting.

"I prefer to get as close as possible."

Taking hold of her hands, he placed them on top of his shoulders before proceeding to rock his hips against hers. Y/N clung onto him as if her life depended on it. She closed her eyes and let her body succumb to his. Every touch from him was magnetizing, and she completely melted when his lips sought hers once more, a cosmic sensation pouring into her. Her nails dug onto the flesh of his back whilst her legs tangled themselves tighter around his waist, wanting to keep him near her as she started to feel a knot unraveling at the pit of her stomach, similar to the ones she'd feel all those nights she daydreamed about having him close to her. Only this time the feeling was more electrifying and intense, almost as if it was magic. Her eyes shut even tighter as the knot came loose and her lips began spilling out chants of Seonghwa's name as her juices flowed out of her body and coated his member that was still sliding deep inside her, not stopping so it could further heightened the sensation she was going through.

Feeling her release herself all over him, it was only a few moments later that Seonghwa himself vibrated against her body and filled her core with his own cum. His body started to faintly glow due to the rush he just felt at being so intimately connected with another person, the pulse in his heart beating so rapidly he thought it would burst any minute. Stroking her hair in a gentle manner, he pressed his forehead against hers, panting softly as he layed his body on top of hers, careful not to put too much of his weight on her.

"Never in my life did I ever believe that on one of our scouting missions would I meet someone like you."

Pulling back so he could look at her beautiful face, Seonghwa smiled with adoration and fondness at his loving partner

"Yet here I am, going back home with the brightest star in the universe."

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I just read the whiskey angst and i cried a bit 😭 can i request Fruit Punch + Absinthe after that the reader feel stressed and go for a walk outside but are attacked by Abiss Mages and seriously injured and Diluc / Childe / Kaeya is surprised when the reader return with a pathetic form but the reader don't want them to touch them pls 😭😭😭 REVERSE UNO

I genuinely wasn't expecting people to like that one enough to request a sequel. I originally had no intention of making a sequel but with so many people asking how can I not?

Haha.. I couldn't sleep again...

The Whiskey fic

TW: Mentions of Injury, Swearing, Self Hatred

Absinthe: “Get out of my sight! I don’t fucking want you here!”

Fruit Punch: “Why are you bleeding!? What the hell happened?!”

-------

Diluc

It had been several days since he had last seen them and honestly speaking the man was a mess. What he said hadn't fully sunk in until he finished his work and upon realising that he had made a severe error, a pit formed in his stomach.

He was extremely disgusted with himself. Nobody should ever talk to their significant other in such a way under any circumstances. Not only that but he had also called them a hindrance when they had only been trying to help him. Pathetic.

He ended up seeking them out, arriving at their small house in Mondstadt. He had approached their door as they were exiting their home. They visibly bristled.

As the days passed they wallowed less, sadness and dejection becoming anger. How DARE he have the AUDACITY to talk to them like that? To treat them as though they were holding him back?

“Get out of my sight! I don't fucking want you here!”

He didn't even flinch out their outburst. He deserved it, "I have... come to apologise for my actions. I-"

"Didn't mean it? Save your words. I don't wish to hear it." They pushed past him. "I'm going for a walk. Don't follow me."

He watched as they exited the gates, steam practically pouring from their ears. As much as he wished to apologise, craved to say that he was sorry, he was sure that they wouldn't have it. But, he sat on the stairs to their house regardless and waited for their return. Whether they would accept it or not he was still going to try to make amends.

He didn't know how long he sat there waiting but they still had yet to return. The worry had long set in, hitting its peak when there was a small commotion at the gate. They pushed past Swan, who was following after them in a panic.

They walked with a limp, blood seeping through the hand that clenched their shoulder tightly. A cut adorned their face from temple to jaw. It too was bleeding heavily.

Diluc approached them with haste, alerted by their state, "Why are you bleeding?! What the hell happened!?"

They pushed past him too as he reached out to them, "Don't.... touch me..."

Diluc glared at Swan as a way to tell him to go back to his post. He jumped but obliged nonetheless as Diluc began to follow after them. Grabbing their non-injured shoulder in his gloved hand, he tugged them gently to stop them from moving.

His tone was stern, "You do not have to speak with me nor do you have to accept my apology. But you will get those injuries tended to even if I have to drag you to the church myself."

They pulled themselves from his grip, out of breath and tired, "Why is it that you care? I'm but a hindrance remember. Even as we speak I am obstructing you."

"If those were my feelings I wouldn't be here. I don't expect forgiveness but I would still like to let you know that what I said doesn't define how I feel for you. That is of little importance right now. Your injuries need to be dealt with"

They said nothing, looking off to the side. Sluggishly they move towards their home again, quietly ushering for him to follow. "I have plenty of medical supplies of my own." They paused, "When my injuries heal, I expect an apology in full. And as for my trust... You'll have to work for it."

He was relieved. Their words suggested that there was a still a chance for him.

-

Tartaglia

It took him a while to calm down. After all, he did tend to brood on things until they festered. At first, he only got angrier. Angry that the cheater got away with it. Angry that they sided with the cheater. Angry that they helped the cheater.

He thought about it more though, and the more he rationalised the more he calmed down. They didn't really side with him, did they? They only helped him because he would have bled out had they not. As much as he wanted to beat the man's ass all over again, he let it slide. Killing him would be a waste anyway. Instead he would let the man's near death experience serve as a reminder.

When he was fully calm, he sought them out, their words echoing in the back of his head. 'Talk to me when you're fucking sane', they had said. Had his actions truly made them feel that way? Or was it in anger just as his words had been?

He checked Bubu Pharmacy first, seeing neither them nor the cheater. He assumed it was because the cheater was in the back getting treatment and that they had gone on their merry way. The search continued.

His hunt continued all across the harbour and he was unable to tell if they were going out of their way to avoid him or if he was looking in all the wrong places. Finally, he resorted to asking around, getting a couple tidbits of information from some Milileth.

He was told that they were seen exiting the harbour and that seemed extremely miffed. So retracing their steps, he left the harbour as well, following along the path that led toward Guili Plains.

He continued to follow the path until Wangshu Inn appeared in the distance and quietly pondered why they came out this far. Something seemed off though. Halting his movements, he scanned the area, sapphire eyes landing on a familiar silhouette sitting at the base of an apple tree.

He was unaware of how long they'd been sitting there when he approached, but there they were an apple in hand. They finished mid chewing and spoke after they swallowed the fruit in their mouth.

"Get out of my sight. I don't fucking want you here." Despite their icy tone, he knew that they weren't angry anymore. They did, however, want to be left alone though he did not oblige.

His eyes travelled to the blood that coloured the grass beneath them. There was a teasing edge to his voice as he tried to lighten the mood, "Why are you bleeding? What happened, hm? Get in a fight without me?"

Finding each other bloody was nothing new to either of them and playing it up was a game of sorts. An inside joke if you will. Most of the time he acted like a worried spouse for them and vice versa, but at this moment it was genuine worry. They scoffed.

"Yes, but unlike you, I don't try to kill men on the street."

He held up his hands in defeat before sitting down across from them, "Not gonna let me live it down, are you?"

They rolled their eyes, leaning their head against the tree trunk, "It happened a few hours ago. But you get a free pass because I don't have the energy to debate right now."

He moved to check their injury and they slapped his hands away with a quiet 'Don't touch me'. Yet he continued to eye it warily, staring at their face as if to ask permission. His gaze was gentle, genuine worry spread across his face. They caved after several minutes, looking away.

Pulling their shirt up to reveal the injury on their hip, it appeared as though they tried to cauterize it. With a sigh, he stood and held his hand out to help then up. After a moment of hesitation, they accepted his hand and immediately after they stood he crouched in front of them and signalled for them to get on his back. They obliged and he carried them back to the city.

"Don't think that this means I forgive you for what you said to me."

For once he didn't feel like teasing, knowing that it wouldn't help mend the situation, "I know. I do wish to apologise though. My words were... unnecessary. I took my anger out on you."

"Damn right." They patted his head, "Though if you're a good boy I might forgive you faster."

He sighed, fully aware that they were going to use him as an errand boy for the next few days.

-

Kaeya

He continued after their encounter as though nothing had happened at all. The silence that filled his office after they left was deafening but he took the time to finish his work. All of the paperwork that had piled up and all the tedious remedial tasks had been finished, the rest of his duties taken care of as well.

Days passed before he finally decided to confront them, and over that period his the guilt over his cruelty toward them festered. He was fully aware that they were trying to help, trying to make his workload lighter, yet he still snapped at them.

If he hadn't taken out his frustration on them then the two would be together right now. If he had just let them help will all of it then we would have gotten done much faster and gotten to relax much sooner. The stack they did do, however, was the biggest one from the piles which did shorten the time he was working. If only he hadn't scared them away.

He began his search for them at their home, finding it empty. Thinking for a moment, he began to check the usual places they went when they were upset. As he headed to Windrise it turned out that he didn't have to look far, for they were limping over the bridge that led into the city.

They were bleeding heavily from their chest, hand clutching the wound with unspoken panic. He rushed toward them, reaching out to support their body weight.

His voice was demanding, "Why are you bleeding?! What the hell happened?"

"It was just an Abyss Mage. Get out of my sight! I don't fucking want you here."

He knew he deserved their scalding words but that didn't stop him from trying. He held his tongue to stop a smart ass comment. Usually, he wouldn't hold back but he knew this wasn't the time.

"You may not want me here, but if you don't get some help you'll bleed out before you can make it to the cathedral." He spoke calmly despite his internal conflict, and they knew that he had a point.

Begrudgingly they leaned against him as he escorted them through town. Moving hurt as it aggravated their injury but it was necessary. As soon as they got inside the cathedral he called for Barbara who appeared around the corner. Her face contorted in horror as she escorted them to the infirmary.

Kaeya sat amongst the pews and waited, having an internal debate with himself. Would they forgive him? Would they even hear him out?

Hours passed before Barbara remerged with news of their condition. He could see them but they could not leave for a while. With caution, he entered, knocking on the door frame to get their attention.

They turned their head in his direction but scowled when they realised that it was him. "Do you need something?"

He hummed, "No but you do." Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took their hands in his, "I wanted to apologise. Both for what I said to you and for taking your kindness for granted."

They stared him down but say nothing but sincerity in his eyes, "I'm listening."

He was slightly caught off guard by their response, nevertheless though it made him happy. They fact that they were willing to listen showed that there was a possibility for forgiveness.

So, a good five or so years back, I played in one of the best worst DnD games I have ever been in. The DM had bought the Libris Mortis book, which, if you were unaware, was a 3.5 splatbook adding in a lot of undead stuff, including some monsters and undead player races and stuff. Wanting to try it out, me and my gaming group decided to play things from it, our then DM deciding to run a completely homebrewed session. This proved to be a...

Terrible Idea™

(for the uninitiated, never homebrew something you do not fully understand unless it's just cosmetic. If you want to make all elves worship the god of garlic bread, Ultimo-Metatron-Omega, go ahead, but unless you know how the game works, don't make mechanical changes). So we all picked stuff from the books-one player played a skeleton Sorcerer who in life was a tribal shaman, but an attempt at healing went wrong, turning him undead as his life energy was replaced with negative energy, explaining why most of his spells were necromancy and suchlike.

Another player played Krug, an antipaladin in very spiky full plate. He was a zombie made by a necromancer of a paladin who was fighting him, but his allies killed his would-be master before he could assert control, and not wanting to just off him, his allies just...yeeted his body into a portal and hoped it'd re-kill him. It did not kill him hard enough. It did, however, explain his stats which...oof. He had already got debuffs to some stats due to being a zombie, and rolled abysmally. Fortunately for the player, he played mostly to socialise, so didn't much care.

I played... Count Nox Feratu, the Campire. As in, a vampire with a very camp German accent, which I did not break for the whole time I was playing him. To the point where "ach, nein, I haf bin heet! Heal me, meine freunde!" was par for the course. My overly camp vamp was a wizard, but due to level adjustment was a bit of a shoddy one. For backstory, he'd been ousted from his clan for ineptitude, and had sworn revenge. I was going for a swordmage build but never got there. All his spells were utility or just necromancy spells.

Our last player played...sigh...Damien Bloodmoon, cleric of Nerull, God of murder and undeath. He was one of the clerics from the book's murder Domain, meaning that he got buffs to damage. He was a vicious arse both in character and out of it, and was so dripping with edge compared to the paladin with the same IQ as a horse after its trip to the glue factory, the shaman who thought killing fixed people and the Campire that if you gave him a pat on the back you'd have finely diced your hand into a red mist. Not going too outlandish with his backstory of wanting to dominate the world as his undead thralls, Damien F***ing Bloodmoon had only taken spells which either charmed live people, dealt negative energy damage or messed with ability drain and suchlike, which he used with aplomb on townsfolk on our way to our objective. He was also, importantly, playing an elf of some sort, I forget which kind. Meaning that of the party, only one was alive.

So, just as an aside, for those of you that haven't played 3.5e DnD or have only played 5e, in Libris Mortis, undeath was gone over in detail, and had a litany of pros and cons. For one thing, undead had only the HP they had-folks like Damien F***ing Bloodmoon could be 'dying', and had some time to be stabilised before meeting the reckoning of Papa John and dying proper. Undead did not, it was just how much you had and if you ran out, poof, you're dust, bones and fertiliser again. You were also harmed by positive energy, so healing spells hurt you, as did potions of healing. However, undead were kind of hardy - poison immunity, some had resistance to non-magical melee damage, stuff that drained your ability scores and levels didn't work on them, some crits wouldn't do extra damage, and the best part- negative energy healed undead. Meaning all the spells our party had which damaged others like the living Damien Bloodmoon were curative ones for us. Keep this in mind.

So, we began our quest, learning of a necromancer a nearby town was plagued by. After using our skills (to whit: Damien Bloodmoon charming and drawing the life force out of random villagers and the only potion seller in the town whilst we went shopping. Krug got a snazzy hat, which we put on top of his helmet, and we chatted to townsfolk as I looked alive enough to pass as human and the shaman had a fake beard and toupee that people were too awkward to point out was fake so went along with it) we learn that the necromancer has a base of operations in the cemetery. "Oh ja, zo original, dahlink. Ve vill need to educate zis guy on vhat is chic and vhat is just shabby!"

So we head there and the nightmare begins. Damien Leads the charge, using all of his knowledge to deduce that the shambling horde moving towards us were stronger-than-your-average-bear undead, and he was right. These were powerful armoured zombie mages of some sort, casting ability draining spells, negative energy ray spells and even having auras of negative energy that dealt damage on a failed Fortitude save. Even their punch and quarterstaves did negative energy damage as well as the usual bludgeoning or unarmed. However...only one of us was really in danger and the DM's face fell when the squishy casters walked up and began shanking their super-special homebrew zombie wizards, being healed by the damage of their attacks as we cut them down.

Like I said, one of the benefits of undeath is that negative energy actually heals you. So the strikes of the magic staves and punches that hit us did some basic damage. Which was then immediately healed by the negative energy their weapon strikes and spells were doing.

However, you'll recall that Damien Bloodmoon was an elf. And not dead. Being a Cleric of a death god doesn't mean that you have the abilities of an undead. That meant that even with the DM being merciful, by the end of the first fight he was covered in blood, mud and withered away to just above half his original strength and constitution. More were patrolling, so we had to run. But that posed a problem.

Remember Krug had heavy armour? And recall his awful stats? He in fact, hadn't got enough strength to wear the armour he'd been given for backstory. He didn't, according to the DM, have enough to remove his own armour. And we attempted to, but also failed our checks according to the DM. And Damien Bloodmoon refused to help, simply blaming Krug and his player. Krug's player thought it was hilarious, and Krug only had enough Intelligence and Wisdom to say his own name, so saw no problem. And Krug, Nox Feratu and Shaman realised that there really...wasn't a problem.

For us, at least.

We slogged through three combats dragging Krug and wading through the mud with him. His speed was so slow that for every step he took, we took about ten. The DM was confused and infuriated that his encounters weren't working, but refused to change them. So we had fun role-playing. Or at least three of us did.

Damien Bloodmoon refused to roleplay, and none of his ranged spells could affect the zombie mages. When he went into melee, he came out wounded as all hell. He went down twice, and it was only the healing supplies of the shaman that saved him.

All the while, he was... Let's say not best pleased. Damien Bloodmoon was getting increasingly wounded, exasperated and longing for the sweet embrace of death as reprieve from the humiliation. His player was getting increasingly redder and rage-filled as time passed. Each fight ended with our characters stronger than ever and his a bloody pulp on the floor, with poor in-character knowledge (and terrible rolls) preventing him from realising why.

Eventually, we reached the final boss, pausing only to paint Krug's armour in contact poison just in case, and to find a stick to help the now-partially-crippled Damien Bloodmoon, cleric of death and murder, walk after being beaten up by angry zombie wizards for hours. And it had, indeed, been hours. Among us, only Damien had a bonus to strength, and we had two swords, a mace and a staff between the four of us. Meaning it was re-death by a thousand cuts for the enemy and a slog and a half for us.

We reach the necromancer and, having taken so long due to dragging the oblivious Krug with us, his big ritual is complete- he raises a fist-sized black onyx egg aloft, crackles with arcane power and causes the bones around him to coalesce into one massive creature - an undead, giant-sized rust monster, radiating an Aura of pure negative energy. Krug opened his arms wide, eager for the metal-eating monster cockroach to free him from his poison-painted metal prison. It ignores him as he's still very far away. Me and the others have our weapons and armour devoured.

Our DM was very much a stickler for note-taking. So because Damien Bloodmoon hadn't written 'clothes' on his sheet, his armour being eaten by the monster left him naked and afraid.

It became clear that the DM had done another f***y-wucky. See, the Aura of negative energy healed me and the Sorcerer by more than its other attacks did. So whilst Damien Bloodmoon was naked, soaked in mud and bleeding to death almost crushed to a pulp in the fetal position, rocking backwards and forwards as his player seethed with hatred, the Shaman and the Campire set about beating the thing to death with our bear hands and a stick.

The session ended once we killed the necromancer, or rather when Krug walked up to him, closed his arms and just crushed the noodle-armed bad guy to death with the weight of his ridiculous armour and poisoned him with its paintwork.

We never revisited the game afterwards. We were told later on that the DM wanted us to use the non-undead races. But at no point had he said as much, even when we asked him about our characters and the restrictions on them. We also learned a valuable lesson. DM for the players who are there, not the ones who you have an idealised mental image of. Tailor your game, otherwise you'll get a sitcom featuring a camp nosferatu, a shaman with no healing, a paladin who could barely move and a Cleric of murder who was ironically the only one at risk of actually dying.

Trapped

Pairing: Sakusa x Reader

Prompt: Fantasy

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Toxic Relationship, NSFW, Fantasy AU, Sorcerer Sakusa, Rape/Non-Con, Mind Control, Manipulation, Obsessive and Posessive Behavior, Degradation

Summary: You should have trusted your gut instincts, the lessons you had learned the hard way about just how cruel powerful men could be. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Friday, October 30th 11:00pm U.K. time!)  

You splutter awake, laughing, but also groaning as a wet tongue slobbers all over your face and you lightly shove the fox that’s currently standing beside your resting head, intent on waking you up to play. Blearily you blink your eyes, trying to gauge what time it is based on the light seeping into the cave you’ve come to call your home. Judging by the bright rays of sunlight, it’s already mid-morning and you stretch your arms above your head, petting your furry companion behind its ears before standing up and treading out into the forest, your friend walking right beside you, its tail brushing against your leg. 

The familiar peace and quiet of the wind rustling past branches and the faint chirping of birds wafts through the air and you smile as you continue making your way to the nearby waterfall, various four-legged animals that have come to be your family and friends popping their heads out of grassy patches and from behind trees in greeting. You can’t even remember the last time you’d seen another human being and you grimace at the thought of your last encounter. 

Orphans, especially female orphans like you, rarely survive for long and you bitterly remember the years of being a street urchin, never knowing when your next bite of food would come, never knowing who to trust in a world full of both humans and magical creatures who’d do horrible things to an unclaimed child and you shiver at the thought of possibly being eaten or harvested for ingredients for countless dark magic spells. But life had only gotten harder the older you became and as a single, vulnerable woman, you began to attract a different attention, no longer able to blend as seamlessly as you once had with predatory eyes trailing after you, resting too long on parts of your body that you desperately wanted to hide from the world. 

You tried sticking it out, finding ad hoc jobs here and there as a maid, as a seamstress, as a waitress. But corruption ran deep wherever you went and disgust makes you recoil when you remember all the times you’d been cornered by all types of men and creatures, received unwanted touches in hidden corners and degrading remarks of what your only purpose in life was. And after being left to sob, pain lancing between your legs, your clothes ripped to shreds, knowing no one would ever take your side, knowing that this would just continue happening over and over again, you vowed to never have anything to do with another sentient being ever again. 

You’d heard rumors of the forest, about its enchantment, about the stories of terrible things hiding away in its heart, but you couldn’t imagine any monster worse than the ones you’ve already encountered and you determinedly march forward, never turning back to look at the city you’re leaving behind. And as you step past the border of trees, even you, someone who’s never had anything to do with magic, can feel the surge of power, feel the crackling energy as you delve deeper and deeper. But maybe the forest could sense that you meant it no harm, maybe it knew that you were just a lonely, helpless soul, maybe it felt generous, felt pity for the damaged woman seeking refuge. Whatever the case was, it left you alone and in all the years you’d made a home in its lush vegetation, not once had you met any of the ghastly creatures you’d heard so many horror stories of. And maybe that’s why you let your guard down when you meet him, finding a false security in the wood and grass-filled world you now live in. 

You don’t bother being quiet or stealthy as you walk. Why would you when there’s never been anyone else around? So imagine your shock when black human eyes are staring at you as you round the corner and reach the water’s edge and panic laces through you when you see how masculine and strong he looks, overwhelming fear making you tremble when you take in the staff you see laying next to him. 

A sorcerer. 

You’d learned the hard way that men were never to be trusted and that men with power and wealth were the ones to be even more wary of. Fortunately you’d only dealt with vile wealthy men and as awful as they had been, you know men gifted with an affinity for magic make those nobles seem as harmless as kittens in comparison. You’d seen firsthand the havoc sorcerors could wreak, seen the charred, mutilated, disfigured bodies put on display at the city gates as an example of the fate for anyone who rebels against the crown. To your knowledge, all sorcerors worked for the royal family, rarely leaving the walled fortress unless sent on a mission or task, but never in a place like this so-called cursed forest. So what was he doing here? 

The urge to flee thrums through your veins, but when he makes no move to stand or get any closer to you, curiosity gets the better of you and you stay rooted to your spot and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself asking the first question that comes to mind. 

“Who are you?” 

When Sakusa had ventured outside of the castle walls for a break from the irritating humans inside the cramped corridors and bustling courtrooms, he had purposefully chosen a place where no other soul would be. His hand had immediately wrapped around his staff as the sound of approaching rustling interrupted his thoughts, but when you had made your presence known, he could only stare in awe, staff forgotten as he took you in. 

You’re different from the usual noble women he sees on a daily basis. For one, you’re barely wearing anything, a makeshift dress of strung together leaves, flowers, and grass the only thing covering you and he can feel his face grow hot as he tries not to blatantly stare at your bare legs and arms. But as he really regards you, he can’t help but feel something wild, something primal in you and he blinks in shock when he realizes that you have the same energy as the forest, as if the forest has claimed you as one of its own and he’s so entranced by his realization that he’s startled by the sound of your voice.

From anyone else, he would have scowled at the forwardness and bluntness of the question, but for some reason, coming from you, he finds himself easily answering. 

“Sakusa Kiyoomi” 

People, conversations, human interaction. Those are all things Sakusa abhors and yet, as you tentatively draw closer to him, staring at him in wide eyed curiosity while the two of you exchange words, he thinks he doesn’t mind any of those things when you’re involved. He comes to visit you as often as he can, something warm blooming inside of him as he sees your hackles relax, notices how you inch closer and closer to him every time he arrives, and he can’t help but compare you to a wild animal and behind the warmth in his chest, something darker lurks, and he wonders what it would be like to tame you, claim you back from the wooded forest that had taken you in, mark you as his own. 

And that thought festers and grows inside of him. 

He does his best to keep it at bay, play it off as just a fleeting idea, but when your eyes and body begin to seep into his dreams, into his every waking thought, he can’t keep the desire down any longer and when he strides towards you once more, he drops to one knee in front of you, asking for your hand in marriage. 

In hindsight it probably was foolish to think that you were as smitten with him, foolish to think that someone who had been scarred enough to escape from civilization would easily just return to the place full of painful memories, and yet red hot anger blazes through him when you turn him down. It doesn’t matter how sweet and kind you are about it, gently letting him down and telling him you’re sure he’d find someone much better suited to being his wife, someone prim and proper, someone educated and knowledgeable of court intricacies. 

Humiliation only fuels his rage as he rises back to his feet and he can feel his magic churning, waiting to be used, dancing at his fingertips, and he has half a mind to forcefully drag you back with him, but he retracts it, pushes it down deep inside of him as he takes a deep breath. No, he wants you to come back and grovel at his feet, beg him to take you in, to help you. He wants you to feel the same need for him that he feels for you and he bites his tongue and restrains himself as his mind begins to plan and strategize. 

He tries to remain as normal as possible, still going to visit you as often as before, but his nails dig into the palm of his hands at the pity in your eyes and he clenches his teeth at the way that you tread around him like he’s a wounded animal. But he takes those feelings and lets them drive him late through the night as he chants strange words, flips through old scrolls, experiments with different spells and ingredients and a rare smile stretches across his face when the pieces finally come together. 

It’s time to take set his plan in motion and in the middle of the night while most of the city is fast asleep, there’s a strange flashing light, a rush of something sinister in the air, and the murmurs of masculine chanting swirling in the air, lingering, and foreshadowing the dark days ahead. But you remain asleep, peacefully ignorant of the shift in the atmosphere, naive to just how much your life will change.  

 You wake up, surprised by the lack of a warm furry body or tongue lapping at your face, and you vaguely wonder if you’d woken up in the middle of the night, but the sunlight filtering through tells you a different story. You feel strange, warning bells beginning to faintly clamor in your head, and you gingerly step outside of your lair only to freeze at the dead silence surrounding you. It’s always quiet and calm in the forest, but where there is usually the sound of nature and creatures, now there is only a deathly silence and you stare in horror as the forest seems to decay right in front of your eyes. What used to be green grass is wilting and brown. The trees you’d spent years climbing and picking fruit from are completely bare. But what makes a choked sob get caught in your throat is the corpses of the animals who’d you come to be so fond of littered around you and your slow stuttered amble becomes a frenzied run, as you race through your dying home, hoping to see any sign of life left. 

But days pass and the state of your home only gets worse. Your throat is parched without clean water to drink, all the water sources near you murky and littered with fish corpses indicating just how toxic they’ve become. Your stomach aches with hunger, no vegetation, fruits, or animals nearby for you to ingest. And a deep loneliness churns inside of you and once again you feel as alone as you did when you were just a dirty street urchin trying to scrape together a living off the streets. 

So when Sakusa comes for his regular visit and finds your weakened body slumped on the floor of your cave, it just makes sense to you, survival instincts kicking in, to drag yourself over to his feet, fling your arms around him when he finally bends down, and sob into his chest. You don’t question the way he’s slow to crouch down to your level and comfort you. You don’t see the cruel smile on his face when he sees you pathetically laying at his feet. You don’t notice the glee in his eyes as you beg him to take you with him. And when he asks you if you’d like to come and be his assistant, you eagerly nod your head and cling tighter to him, burying your face in his comforting and familiar presence as he teleports the two of you back to his living quarters. 

Months pass and despite your initial wariness of returning to live among other beings, you find that Sakusa seems to dislike being around others just as much as you, and the two of you find a comfortable way of life mostly holed up in his living quarters with only the other as company. You’d never really been exposed or taught anything about magic growing up, so you’re genuinely fascinated as you watch Sakusa chant, attentively listening as he tells you what each ingredient is, eagerly following his every step as he shows you firsthand how to mix different potions. And Sakusa thinks that your aptitude for learning, the perfect synchronization the two of you have as you seamlessly work your way into his rhythm, preparing and setting things up before he even needs to tell you, speaks volumes of just how perfect the two of you are together, speaks volumes of how you were meant to be together. 

He continues strategizing, gaining your trust, letting you grow accustomed to his presence, smiling at the way you don’t even bat an eye when his hands linger on yours a bit longer than normal when he hands you something, at the way you don’t tense up anymore when he presses his body against you from behind as he physically guides and shows you how to do something. And he knows he’s on the right track when you take the initiative to swipe a strand of his hair behind his ear as he concentrates on a task at hand, when you perch your chin on his shoulder, peeking over his shoulder as he jots down notes. 

But even the greatest minds make mistakes and when he sends you off to find a certain piece of text for him from the bookshelf in the corner of his room, he forgets to clarify where on the shelf to look and not wanting to bother him, you meticulously comb through every book, forehead scrunching in curiosity when you find a notebook tucked behind, as if it was meant to be hidden. You consider just passing it over, not wanting to intrude on Sakusa’s privacy, but having gone through most of the books and not finding what you need, you wonder if perhaps the thing he’s looking for is in here and that this had just been misplaced or accidentally pushed towards the back of the shelf. 

As you flip through the pages you quickly realize this is a book of Sakusa’s own spells and you stare in awe at how much work he’d done, how extensive his own self-created spell repertoire is, but suddenly your heart freezes when you flip to the last few filled pages. You’re not as fluent as Sakusa is when it comes to the ancient magical language, but you know enough after the time you’ve spent with him, the lessons he’s taught you, to recognize ‘plague’ and ‘forest’ and your throat and heart feel both heavy and panicked when you realize the implication of what you’d found. And suddenly you remember the day he had proposed to you vividly, ice cold shock and realization making you shudder when you remember a flash of something dark in his eyes when you had rejected him. And your hands tremble when you see the very last page, taking note of the phrase ‘mind control’. But before you can dwell on it, you squeal in surprise when the book is plucked from your hands and you’re rooted to the spot by dark eyes pinning you down. 

You want to scream angry words at him. You want to escape. And yet, you do neither, frozen with fear when you remember exactly what happened to the victims who’d defied sorcerers.

“Hmm. This spell’s not quite ready yet, but I guess we can test it out early.” 

And before you can even register what’s happening, a firm hand is placed on the top of your head, the other wrapped around your throat to keep you still as magic surges through the air and you vaguely hear yourself pleading for him to stop, until suddenly you feel trapped in your own body, the connection between your conscience and physical figure severed and you stare in horror as your body goes limp and docile in his arms. 

Sakusa peers into your eyes in interest, humming in thought as he scrawls a few more notes in his notebook. 

“The end goal of this spell is for me to be able to completely control your mind, but right now it looks like I only have control of the section that handles your physical functions if that ugly hate-filled look in your eyes is any indication. But let’s test my theory shall we?”

And it feels like a bad dream as your body submissively makes its way to his bed, seductively swaying your hips as you sprawl out on his bedsheets, eagerly wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he joins you, bringing him down for a kiss. He’s rough and invasive as he tears your clothes off, calloused hands touching and contaminating every inch of you and you feel disgust as he examines you like you’re a piece of prime meat he’s purchased, coldly and meticulously pinching and prodding you as he observes what makes your body react. And for once, you hate how observant he is, how in tune to your smallest shifts he is, how sensitive your body is as your nipples perk up, as little moans escape past your traitorous lips when he pinpoints your weak spots. 

But what you hate most is the triumphant grin on his face when his dexterous fingers swipe against your lower lips and you internally flinch at the glistening slick that coats his fingers when he holds it to your face, evidence of the heavy arousal mixing with your humiliation and hate. And you try to think of anything else, imagine you’re anywhere but here as he begins to wonder out loud while his fingers twist and turn inside of you, reaching and touching places you’d never been able to explore yourself, if he even needs to tweak his spell anymore seeing how you’re a slave to your body’s natural desire for pleasure. Maybe there wasn't a need to completely control your thoughts and emotions as well.

He hadn’t realized what a slut you are, getting off to anyone using your body, and he leers down at you while he continues questioning you, knowing full well you can’t answer or retort to his crude remarks. And he idly wonders if your mind would naturally break without additional magic if he pleasured you enough, transformed you into a warm body that constantly seeks and craves his touch.

The fear in your eyes at his words only fuels his need to completely dominate you and he grits his teeth as he slides into your drenched hole, eyes closing shut as he just stays still and revels in how tight you are, how perfectly you wrap around him. And when he opens his eyes and sees the glassy-eyed lustful look on your face from being filled, he finally releases himself from the controlled facade he so carefully always wears and lets himself dive headfirst into the sultry, dizzying, primal embrace of lust as he pistons his hips in and out of you at a brutal pace, dark eyes never straying from your face as your eyes begin to roll back and your wanton mewls fill the air. 

He can feel his end approaching, but he’d be damned if he didn’t make you fall apart with him, drown you in inescapable pleasure, and his hand slips between the two of you, fingers finding your aroused clit and all it takes is a few rubs and thrusts before your body is tensing up, back arching, mouth opening in a silent scream, body convulsing and writhing underneath him, your cunt milking him as you’re forcefully brought to your peak. And he joins you over that edge, thick white spurts coating your twitching walls. 

You pray that he’s done, that he’ll release you now that he’s thoroughly tasted and had you, now that you’re just sloppy seconds, used goods. But you’re startled when he lovingly kisses you and tenderly strokes your hair, and your stomach churns at the genuine affection you see in his eyes. And your heart drops, any last bit of hope you had extinguished as he holds your body close to him in a mockery of a loving embrace and whispers in your ear about the future he has planned for both of you, a future where you stay by his side as an obedient, submissive housewife, a future where you’re willing and eager to please him, to love him. 

That was always his goal for the both of you, he insists, and a flame of anger burns inside of you at the exasperated and patronizing sigh he directs your way as he blames you for forcing his hands, for forcing him to do this the hard way, for forcing him to resort to magic when you could have saved everyone the hassle by just accepting his proposal all those months ago. 

Hate and anger twist and coil inside of you and yet, when he kisses you once more, your body instinctively leans into the soft touch before obediently going lax as he tells you to sleep, eyes automatically closing at the command, and Sakusa smiles at your slumbering figure. It’s not exactly how he had planned to go about this, the mind control spell being more of a back-up option he had been trying to avoid, but you’re finally irrevocably his and that’s all that matters.  

REDACTED verse - The aloof Bombay & wounded Border Collie

Summary: They say you are what you are in the dark. So you prove just who you are when there's only you and Frederick in a dark house, with no one else around. 

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Angst with a happy ending] & [Mild panic attack]

So, first thing first, a little backstory about this oneshot. I had already written out the first scene a week before Redacted announced the discontinuation of Frederick & Bright Eyes series. Although he mentioned that it’s fine to continue on writing headcanons about the two, I was hesitant to continue writing this fic. 

But I’ve been missing them terribly so I sat my ass down and finally completed it! Yay! Fred & Bright Eyes had one of the most interesting dynamics in this fandom so I wanted to give it a go based on my headcanons of them. 

-

There's a strange sort of energy hovering around Vincent and Sam lately. 

It's not subtle either. Its anxiety, stress and uncertainty all roll together into a heavily dense fog that makes you itches under the skin. 

This has been going on for days now. 

Vincent constantly has thick textbooks with him whenever he comes over to Sam's place. They would exchange short pleasantries before Sam hurried off to his Werewolf beau (it's sort of funny the first time Sam returns home, and you spotted courses of wolf's hair stuck onto the hem of his clothes and jeans. You figured that this man's main hobby was tussling with Wolves, but when Sam would sneak back into his own fucking house like a teenager, it wasn't hard to put two-and-two together). Vincent would then make sure that you and Frederick are fed, settled in for the night before he completely ignores the two of you in favour of his school work. 

As if the two of you are a pair to toddlers. You'd laugh if it didn't annoy you. 

Fred, ever the gentle sweetheart, attempted to make small talks at first. Tentatively asking if he's stressed out over exams and if there's anything he could do to help - the result was expected. With pen in hand, notebooks and the two hundred and one pages depicting the foundations of magical healing, Vincent rather absentmindedly shooed him away. 

Sam is arguably the worst. Ever since he stepped outside of the house during their crash course of the Empowered creatures in Dahlia to answer a phone call, he returns with lines on his forehead and shoulders tensed as hell. 

Their impromptu lesson ended just like that when another Clan member had to babysit the two of you after Sam stormed out of the house. 

You don't know whether they realise how taunt their strings have been, and you don't really care, honestly. Just curious; you're pretty confident that something big will happen soon. 

At least there's something exciting to look forward to other than Sam's disapproving frowns and Fred's frustrated attempts at making you bear your heart and guts out. 

And something big will happen soon. Apparently, there's something equivalent to a magical Olympics that occurs every year called the Elemental & Energetic Games, and this year, the local supernatural academy would be the one hosting it in Dahlia. Interesting. 

Speaking of which, you could hear Vincent talking to his lover outside your bedroom through his phone. "Sam's on the way... yeah, he just texted me." A short pause. "Yeah, I can do that. Hey, hey, Lovely - listen to me. Everything's going to be alright. You've been practising non-stop for the Games. You deserve a special night for a change. So here's what we're going to do: I'll pick up some of that blueberry pie you love so much on the way back, we'll watch some movies after dinner and then have an early night so you'll feel better tomorrow. Sounds good? Nice. Oh wait - I think I can hear Sam outside. See you in a little bit. Love you too, Lovely." 

You tune the outside world after that. It makes sense now why Vincent was stressed out; he's busy playing the good boyfriend. 

With a tired sigh, you try your best to occupy your mind. It's three hours to midnight, but to Vampires, that's practically early morning, and you're already so bored. You don't want to step out of your little sanctuary if it means having to deal with Sam, Vincent and Fred tonight. 

Or ever. Forever sounds good. 

Not knowing what else to do, you pushed yourself out of bed and padded towards the window sill. The cool night air greets you as well as the trees and shadows that stretch on for miles. Once you and Fred were officially brought under Sam's care as his Progenies, you quickly realise that his house is located on the outskirts of Dahlia. Where the forests sprawl behind the abode and the city lights are just far enough not to pollute the night sky. 

A perfect place to raise a pair of unplanned Newborn Vampires. You conclude that either Sam enjoys living by himself in a secluded property or that this house was given to him by Mr. Solaire. 

Either way, you would've love to sneak out and explore the forest if it weren't for the magical wards that Sam had warned the two of you. The moment you or Fred steps out of the immediate area, Sam would know right away that one of them disobeyed his rules. 

So despite the pleasant night air, there's a strum of anxiety and restlessness stirring within you. Is it because of Sam's recent behaviours or the upcoming Games? You can't tell, not when no one is bothered enough to tell you what's going on. 

You take a deep breath and take your sweet time to exhale the air out. There's no use in working yourself up; not when you just need to get through this Newborn phase. It's better to think of the future. 

And that bastard's mangled corpse at your feet. 

"You should've listened to your friend, little mouse." 

Ironically, the monster's voice is the only thing keeping you sane during this whole happy house facade that Sam and Frederick insist on playing. Late-night fantasies of ripping that smug's asshole to pieces are the only thing that keeps you going, sad as it is. 

It's not revenge; it's justice. It's your atonement for hurting Frederick. What good would apologies serve when you can present that monster's head to him? You're not deluded enough to play the victim; you're the reason why the two of you are the way you are now, but you'll be damn if you admit that to Sam. 

Sam's already blamed you for what happened to Fred. Even if he never says it. His lingering glances and furrowed brows are telling enough. There's no need to give him more ammunition against you. 

You breathe in and out again; willing yourself to calm down. So you start to distract yourself by planning to gather enough money and resources to leave the Clan once Mr. Solaire deems that you're safe to be on your own and to others. His kind smile and knowing eyes should've made you uncomfortable, but all you can feel is genuine compassion and understanding coming from that ancient Vampire King. 

So. Priorities: Passing the Newborn period, gather enough money, clothes and anything else that's important, thank Mr. Solaire for taking you into his Clan, and if it's not too presumptuous, ask him to continue to care for Fred. 

A knock on the door startles you from your train of thoughts, but you keep your gaze on the dark forest laid before you. 

You heard the door creak as it slowly swings open and then, "Bright Eyes? Is... Is everything ok?" 

It's Fred. Of course, it would be Fred. 

"Mm-hmm." You reply absentmindedly. You didn't even have to look at him to know that he doesn't believe your bullshit. And him being your Sire makes it impossible to lie to him, so you often gives out vague responses. 

Most of these days, your interactions with him are curt, with doubt thrown into the mix. Fred is hesitant to press you when you brush away his questions, and in return, you hide as often as possible so you wouldn't step on any emotional landmines in this house. 

"Are you sure? Because I can kind of sense that you're upset..." Fred said after a brief moment of hesitation. Ah, it's going to be one of those nights. 

The bond between a Sire and his Progeny once again proves to be a fucking nuisance. Not only could you not lie to Fred, but he could also sense phantom emotions coming from you. So much for privacy. 

"It's fine, Fred. I was just thinking." There. Not a lie but not the total truth either. 

"O-Oh." From the doorway, Fred bit his lower lip. Why is it getting harder and harder to approach Bright Eyes nowadays? He hates this distance between them. He hates how they rarely left their room. 

He hates how it feels like he's losing his friend as the days go by. 

"Do you, uh, maybe want to play a game or something? Vincent hooked up a Playstation 5 before he left. I think he also left some video games - "

"I'm not in the mood to play tonight, Fred. Maybe tomorrow." 

Fred sighs at the clear dismissal. It honestly hurt; Bright Eyes constant rebuff is getting sharper and sharper. Without another word, Fred left Bright Eyes to their thoughts. 

As usual, nothing is absolved tonight. 

-

It's a boring rainy Wednesday night. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the shutters promises an incoming storm when you hear the sound of rumbling thunders approaching the city from a distance. 

Tonight, Vincent is too busy at D.A.M.N to babysit you and Fred. Sam already left the house an hour after the sun had set with his usual instructions not to go beyond the wards and that a Clan member would be coming over to supervise them. 

Why does this feel like you and Fred are the unwanted children from a divorced couple? Oh well, all the more reason to leave the clan ASAP. 

You plan to brood in your room as usual after draining your share of the blood bags in the fridge. However, the moment you take three steps out of the kitchen, lightning flashes across the sky. 

The power trip, hurtling the entire house into total darkness. 

"The circuit breaker," You murmur, inhumane eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness as you look around the area in 4K HD. "Did Sam ever mentioned where it was?" You tried to recall the house's layout from Sam's words alone, but you tend to tune out his voice whenever he speaks more than twenty minutes. So it looks like you better start from the basement.  

Just when you're about to head downstairs, a whimper froze you. You tilt your head towards one of the bedrooms. 

The sound is coming from Fred's. 

You stood your ground for only a few seconds of hesitation before you quietly approached his bedroom and slowly opened the door as to not startle him — concern creeping into your heart. 

Just like the rest of the house, Fred's bedroom is completely dark. Lightning flashed once more to illuminate Fred's huddled figure on the floor near the window. He's breathing very hard and rapidly with his head in between his knees. 

Your heart twisted into a knot at the sight of a frightened Fred, and you couldn't help but wonder if this is how he looked like when that monster hurt him. 

You forcefully put that thought away. You're horrible with words, but there's one way you can still comfort him. 

Fred's breath hitches when your back lean against his. "B-Bright Eyes?" He calls out with a choked sob, head slightly raised in surprise. 

When you said nothing, Fred let out a ragged sigh. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me." 

You blink and turn your head to give him a side-eye. Say what? 

"Don't give me that l-look." Fred snaps after a sniffle. "You could hardly look at my face lately, and you only leave your bedroom whenever you have to eat. If it weren't for that, you'd happily pretend that Sam and I don't even exist." 

"That's because whenever I'm around, you keep wanting to talk about Wonderworld, and Sam keeps shooting me looks as if I'm a shitstain underneath his fucking boots." You shoot back reflexively. 

Much to the surprise of absolutely no one, your words upset Fred even further. "You can't talk about Sam like that! He's been nothing but kind to us. To you and you just - "

"He blames me for what happened to you!" Fred can't be this oblivious, can he?

Behind you, Fred went stiff.

"You're his Progeny, and I'm the deadweight that he's stuck with because you Turned me. He knows it, Vincent knows it. Fuck it, everyone in the Clan knows it! So why should I give a damn when I'm unwanted? And that's alright! That's totally alright! You want to know why that's alright, Freddy?" Lightning split the night sky. A rather powerful thunder shakes the house, but at this moment, nothing exists except for you, Fred and the tension that has been brewing between the two of you the moment your humanities were forfeit.  

"I'm not planning to stay here any longer than I have to! The moment Mr. Solaire give us the green light, I'm out of Dahlia! Buh-bye! You and Sam can do whatever the fuck you want, but I don't want to stay in this city any longer! I don't have anything left here!" 

Silence enveloped the bedroom. What are you even doing here? Why did you even think you could comfort Fred when all you've been doing is hurting him. Even now! This was a mistake. You should've - 

"I was right. I'm losing you too..." 

"Uh, what?" 

Fred tucks his head in between legs tighter as if he's trying to hide from the world. "I think I always knew that you were going to leave me when you started to pull away from everyone. That's why I wanted us to talk about that Halloween night so badly." His voice is ragged, tears stream down his face. "Y-You said that you don't have anything left in Dahlia, but... you're all that I have left and if you leave... I..." Fred sighed and quietly continued, "I thought I was your friend. I thought I meant something to you." 

"I've hurt you." You reply, just as quietly. "I've been hurting you since Wonderworld, and even tonight, I'm hurting you. I didn't listen to you that night, and because of it, we're here. You lost your family, friends and future and for that I'm... I'm so sorry, Fred. You didn't deserve anything that happened to you." 

"Thank you, Bright Eyes. I-I needed to hear that." Fred reply. When he reaches for your hand, you squeeze it back. "What happened was... fucked up, but none of us knew about that Vampire. Or that Vampires actually exist. So it's stupid of me to blame you for our d-deaths." 

"But I didn't listen - "

"Yes, you didn't listen but will you listen to what I have to say now, Bright Eyes? Please? I want us to move on from this together. I want us to be better." 

Perhaps it's how raw and near begging Fred sounds that both of your walls are down tonight. Perhaps, tonight, you finally realise that it's you that doesn't like confrontations and that despite Fred's gentle and reserved nature, he has no problem mending the wounds between the two of you with force if he has to. Huh, who could've thought? 

The two of you talk for hours in the darkness. It feels so awkward to bear your heart to Fred after everything, but to your immense surprise and relief, he listens to you patiently, and once you're done, he let you into his heart. All the fears, insecurities, regrets, shame and horror are laid between you and together, you address them one by one until the storm lets up. 

And when the silver light of the moon peeking through heavy clouds, you found yourself snuggling with Fred on his bed. Your head tucks into the crook of his neck while Fred's arm is around you. It's strange how lighter your heart is now. 

"Have you stop crying already?" You ask, wondering if you'd need to run to the kitchen to make a simple bag of ice for Fred's red, puffy eyes before they swelled. 

Fred snort. He sniffles and squeezes your body in assurance. Being slightly taller than you, it feels sort of nice to be held like this. Despite their heartfelt conversation and confessions, the trauma they both carry is still fresh, but now, it doesn't feel like an overwhelming miasma threatening to drown you in guilt and sorrow. "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright now. It feels good to finally cry after... after everything." 

"Can't relate." You bluntly interject. "I usually get pissed off after a crying session." 

"I can actually believe that." Fred giggles. "I'm beginning to understand you a lot better, Bright Eyes. Thank you for listening; I know that words are hard for you, so I'm very grateful that you want to work things out as much as I do." 

"Mn." 

Outside, the rain has become a gentle drizzle, and the stars ushered a bright full moon. It's too lovely of a night to brood; you might as well take a nap with Fred. 

"Bright Eyes?" Fred suddenly speaks up, bringing you out of your sleepy haze. 

"Mn?" 

"Do you... I mean... are you still planning to leave Dahlia?" His voice returns to its timid and hesitant state. 

"Well... yeah. After our - urgh - mushy talk, I realise it's all the more reason I need to do it. You're the only thing I have left in this city after all." 

"You want to leave me despite just saying that all you have is me? Uh, I don't... don't get it. Can you please explain it to me, Bright Eyes?" 

You hold back a groan. It looks like Fred has discovered the magic of 'please' and your weakness to it. "I'm planning to kill the Vampire who killed us and use his skull as my apology gift to you." 

Unlike you, Fred groans in disbelieve. You yelp when he manoeuvres you so your body can lie on top of his and trap you in his arms. "No... Bright Eyes, no... no hunting that asshole, OK? You don't need to give me a skull; just stay here with me. Skulls are gross anyway." He whines like a needy toddler, which, surprisingly, makes you feel fond instead of irritated. 

So you roll your eyes and press your face into Fred's chest. Perhaps you can try to convince Fred to leave with you in the future, but for now, nothing matters but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the faint scent of wet grass outside. 

They're going to be alright. 

Kingslayer AU: Chapter 14

This took a bit longer than I thought it would 😀 life kinda said lol to me for a while.

“Augh!” Scott cried out. He breathed in desperately, but his mouth filled with water.

Sitting up and rolling to his side, he coughed out a stream of water. Groaning when he finished. Scott sat up wearily, blocking the sun from his face.

It was warmer than usual. He was sitting in a waist high pool of water, around his shoulders as he was sitting down, which was a warm brown color. Behind him he could hear the roar of the river he had floated in from.

Scott rubbed his eyes and gauged the pain in his bruising shoulder. He felt like something was missing when he noticed.

“Tango?” He called out. A twinge of frantic concern escaped in his voice. Scott turned in every direction, scanning the surroundings for any sign of his friend.

What if they’d been separated in the river? What if his friend had drowned?

His anxiety was at its peak when another person sat up from under the water. Sputtering and flailing about, Tango had been hidden under the murky pond.

Scott fell backwards in surprise, his shock eased when he saw his friend, who looked alright enough. Tango seemed satisfied with the amount of water he discarded, looking up he met Scott’s eyes.

Tango’s eyes widened with relief, he laughed, it looked slightly painful, but he pulled the other into a tight embrace.

“Are you alright?” he pulled back, looking Scott over for any sign of harm.

“I’m fine, uh, except for the shoulder,” Scott replied.

“Oh, yeah,” Tango got to his feet. He held a hand out for the other to take.

Once they had waded to the mucky shore, Tango ordered Scott to enter the trees while he ran to the other side of the pond. Tango hastily did so, looking up and around the area. Scott could see a triumphant expression make it’s way onto his face.

“Come here,” Tango motioned when he got back to Scott, “look,” he pointed skywards.

Scott followed his line of sight up into the sky. Right above the trees, a line of grey smoke floated into the sky.

“What is it?” he asked.

Tango smiled, “The Crastle,” he exclaimed.

After a while of enduring wet socks through a lightly wooded area. The Crastle came into view. It was nearly sundown now, and Scott recognized where they were. Almost dead in front of the castle and it’s moat, the drawbridge was still down. For the sun was not gone yet.

Tango crouched in the last bit of trees, surveying the barren, icy field that housed the humble fort. Deciding they had to go at some point, he told Scott to come. They jogged low through the tall stretches of grass, then hastily across the drawbridge.

Kneeling behind a small decorative wall, Tango went to the door while Scott stayed in place. He knocked on the door politely, but hard enough to provoke any inhabitants to answer.

A few moments passed and a small circle of wood slid out of the door. A peephole, and an eye appeared in it. Tango leaned down to make his identity known, which may have been a stupid thing to do in hindsight. What if a member of Dogwarts had been visiting?

The door swung open. Cleo’s already wide eyes were impossibly wider. Although her face could not go pale, one could imagine that it did.

Quickly, all three rushed inside. The doors and windows were slammed shut and locked.

Without even a hello, Cleo whipped around to face the two fugitives. Hands poised on her hips.

“What on Earth are you two doing here?” she seethed. Her eyes were angry, her teeth gritted.

“We need help,” Tango replied. Putting his hands up in mock surrender.

Scott had never been aquatinted with the girl before. Cleo and her friend Bdubs lived a relatively secluded life in the Crastle together. They did not have to ask to be left alone, both were a force to be reckoned with when under threat.

Soldiers by nature, Cleo and Bdubs defended their small claim to a normal life with everything they could. Scott understood their seclusion. Had he not been doing the same?

“Yeah you do,” Cleo nearly laughed. Tango didn’t look very amused.

“Not funny, Cleo, we both almost died,” he said with a tired frown.

She dropped the mirthful expression. Nodding, “You shouldn’t have come here,” she looked away.

“Cleo. Please,” Tango reached for her thin hand, which was worn and frail looking from accumulating years of war and hardship.

Cleo’s eyes met his in a silent response. Not to his plea, she would never have said no to him.

“A week,” she bargained.

Scott felt like an outsider to their relationship. He knew they had been close for a long time. Then he knew of Cleo’s heartbroken anger towards the man for betraying their alliance. Even if he was pretending. Tango hid his truer feelings under various layers of hostility and irony. Now that they were all in the room together, it was obvious, at least in part, what had been eating away at his friend for the past months.

Back in the cow farm Scott always wondered why Tango made such an effort to help him through his guilt of lying to Jimmy. To Scott, there was no way anyone could understand what he was going through. Now though, he knew Tango was feeling the same way about the Crastle Folk.

“Thank you Cleo,” brightness returned to Tango’s eyes. He shook her hand gratefully.

A smile found its way onto the girl’s face as well. She pat him on the shoulders in place of a hug. They turned back to Scott, who was sat on a chest holding his shoulder.

“We should fix that,” Cleo pointed out the obvious.

After a bit of shuffling around in cabinets and chests, Cleo had started wrapping Scott’s arm in a strap of bandages. She talked about healing it up in no time, a healing potion once a day. Good as new. As long as he kept it in the cast.

She wrapped a piece of fabric around his neck to carry his Arm in, then gave him his first healing potion.

It was silent for a while. The three of them doing random tasks to pass the time, sweeping up the invisible dirt on the floor, examining the titles of a small collection of books on the countertop, and using one had to clean a wound.

A knock at the door halted the peaceful atmosphere. Tango and Scott instinctively found their ways to each others’ side. Suddenly aware of every curtained window.

Cleo quietly approached the door. She slid the peephole open slightly, squinting through. Turning around quickly, she whispered.

“It’s Impulse,” her expression was fearful.

Tango didn’t share her concern. At all. He smiled, going to the door.

“Alone?” he asked.

Cleo nodded.

“Let him in,” he said. Cleo looked at him like he had three heads.

He repeated himself and she hesitated, but she opened the door. Only slightly, so Impulse would only see her. They exchanged unintelligible words before Impulse was granted access to the Crastle.

He looked around. Scott and Tango both waved at him a bit awkwardly. Both of them immediately conscious of how haggard they must look.

Impulse sighed with relief. He put his sword down against the wall and went to meet his friends, pulling the both of the into a hug.

“Are you okay?” he studied each of their faces for any signs of being hurt, save for the now patched wound on Scott’s forehead and his broken shoulder.

“Somehow some way,” Scott muttered, retreating from the embrace.

This was the first time he was clearly able to see the other since their squabble at the desert battle. Impulse looked tired before anything else. Before relief or concern, he was clearly exhausted.

Scott looked away, a knowing part of him said “your fault,” which he made no effort to ignore.

“Impulse, I’m so sorry,” he admitted.

“It isn’t your fault. I’m the one who messed up, super bad. I understand how upset you are,” Scott worried with a strand of hair near the base of his head.

Impulse looked like he was forcing various thoughts off of his tongue, he simply said, “I’m glad you’re okay,” patting Scott on the shoulder.

He shifted his attention back to Tango. Scott backed away from the encounter, sitting on the staircase.

“What do we do now?” Impulse asked him.

Tango made a thoughtful face. His duty returned to him as he contemplated a new plan of action.

“Me and him will leave once it’s safe,” Tango gestured to himself and Scott, “we’ll hightail it to the Northern corner, in the border mountains. It will be safer there. Especially if we go underground,” he said.

Impulse nodded along, he asked, “when are we leaving?”

Tango hesitated, “you aren’t,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Impulse replied as if he’d been slapped.

“We’re going. We’ve been exposed, if I haven’t been as spy then I have as a traitor. Neither of us can stay here; but you can,” Tango said.

“You may have defied the Army at the trial today but you haven’t compromised yourself. Go back there and forget about the damn mission. Take care of him,” he ordered, hands coming to the other’s shoulders.

Impulse frowned deeply; but he nodded.

The moment was over seconds later. Impulse asked if he could stay for a while longer, just in case the Red Army showed up looking for them.

“Where should we stay while we’re here?” Scott asked Cleo.

She looked left in thought, then led them over to a double chest in the corner. It was full of many miscellaneous items. Broken pagers, cups, wood, and coal. Cleo lifted the bottom of the container up. All the contents came with it. They were glued to the surface.

Under the chest was a hole with a ladder. It went down some seven feet into what looked like a dark tunnel.

“Secret Tunnel!” Tango pumped his fist in the air, clearly amused.

Cleo and Impulse laughed along with him, clearly over a joke Scott didn’t understand.

Once everyone had clambered to the bottom of the pit, it became apparent what the “secret tunnel” truly was. There were rows of shelves lining the walls, each was stocked with various canned foods and bags of grain.

“Cleo! Have you been hoarding all the non-perishables on the entire map?” Scott exclaimed once he entered the cellar.

He picked up a can of corn, “How much of this do you have?”

Cleo stifled a laugh, “There’s still plenty being made in the village. It’s not my fault I actually take advantage of their generosity,” she said.

She plucked a can of carrots in gravy from one of the shelves, shaking it in his face. Scott grimaced at the prospect of eating carrots in gravy, but Cleo insisted they were fine heated up.

“So, this is home base, I’m assuming,” Tango said. He probably knew about the cellar already, having lived in the Crastle for a short time.

“Yes. For now. We could have given you the attic, but I wasn’t so sure you’d like to share it with the barn owls,” Cleo joked.

It was comforting that despite the circumstances, the small family-like clique could still be humorous with each other. The smiles of his servermates eased Scott’s racing mind. He leaned against a bare wall and slid to the dusty floor, near a furnace.

“It’s getting late, I need to leave,” Impulse piped up after an engaging back and forth about whether or not barn owls were actually in the attic, and if Tango was actually brave enough to go check.

The weight of a “goodbye” soured the mood immediately. Neither Scott, Tango, or Impulse knew how long it would be until they saw one another again. Nor did they know what unfortunate circumstances may arise while separated.

Tango shook Impulse’s hand, pulling it towards him and smiling reassuringly. Although it looked more like a grimace. Neither said goodbye, only good luck and be safe.

Scott’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, but when Impulse turned to him, he hung his head and hugged him; and they just stayed like that for a bit. Impulse ruffed up the other’s hair before pulling away. He shook Scott’s hand as well.

“I’ll be seeing you,” Scott said. Speaking it into existence.

“Soon”, is all Impulse replied before ascending the ladder. Cleo followed him to bid farewell.

The door upstairs shut and locked.

It was going to be a long winter.

Safe (Eugene Roe x Reader)

Based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic​ because its too cute and I can’t help myself apparently. 

This is also my first Eugene Roe fic!! Yay!

All translations are via Google...someone please tell me if they are wrong! 

Warnings: angst? fluff? 

Words:1500

Tag list: @happyveday​ @evelynshelby​ @sydney-m​

<gif not mine, thanks Pinterest>

 "Get everyone in the trucks! Go! Go!" Winters commanded his men, walking down the line of waiting vehicles. 

 Doc Roe looked up from wrapping a bandage around a man's shoulder. He watched the men scurry around like ants after a child kicked their home in childish glee. 

 Operation Market Garden was collapsing around them. Since learning about the operation, while the other men cheered at the idea of Berlin by Christmas, Roe felt nauseous. Something about the operation did not sit well with him. Call it intuition or a sixth sense, he just knew it could not be that simple. Before they dropped into Holland, he had convinced all the medics he knew to bring extra bandages and morphine, anything they could get their hands on. He hoped it would be enough. 

 "Can you get up?"

 The Private grimaced, face pale. "Thank you, Doc. I'll find a seat myself."

 "We'll find you some morphine at the aid station." Roe nodded at the Private before starting along the line of trucks, eyes and ears open for the call of a medic. 

 He caught sight of Spina helping a limping Private onto a truck bed before climbing in himself to continue administering aid. As he continued, he checked people off his mental list. He saw Shifty, Moore, Liebgott, Ramirez, Tanner, Talbert...more and more raced back to the trucks, some with blood tainting their skin and uniforms. He would have to check on them later. 

 There was one face in particular he had not seen yet. 

 The further he walked, dodging men retreating, the more his heart pounded in his ears. She was supposed to be in the back. She was supposed to be safe. 

 "Non, non, non, où es-tu?" He whispered to himself, panic creeping under his skin. (No, no, no, where are you?)

Ever since she had been wounded in Carentan, Winters had kept her from the front lines unless absolutely necessary. Usually, she was holed up somewhere and watching the men's backs, using her sniper skills. Shifty may be their sniper on the ground, but she was their sniper from above. Their guardian angel. If she had been sent to assist...the situation was worse than Roe had previously thought. 

 Sometime between Toccoa and Aldbourne, he something shifted between them. He could not pinpoint an exact moment. It was somewhere in the lingering touches, the soft smiles exchanged, the comforting words and stories to cheer one another up...somehow, he had fallen in love. Now he needed her just as much as air. She was his lighthouse, his beacon of hope. She had to be safe. 

 Glancing to his left, he headed towards the truck with what looked like most of her platoon in it. "Luz! You seen y/n?"

 Luz looked down at him from his seat. "No, Doc. Last I saw she was protecting the retreat." Remorse and concern filled his eyes as he answered. They both knew what that meant. She would be the last to evacuate, the last to safety, the one most likely left behind. 

 Roe started running. 

 "Merde." He swore, eyes darting everywhere for a sign she was nearby, that she was alright. She had to be. It was that loyalty that he both loved and hated in her, how she would make sure "her boys" were safe, protecting their backs and lives, and in the process, be willing to sacrifice her own. 

 "Y/n! Y/n!" He began calling out in desperation. Ignoring the stares of some of the men, he wrestled internally with his own panic. His cries bordered on hysterical at this point. 

 They had never spoken those three little words to each other. Never put a name to what existed between them. They just were whatever the other one needed. Over the past two years, that grew until they were each other's world. How they sought each other out. How in a group, they always looked for the other first before anyone else. The quiet nights they cried together. 

 "Richardson! Is y/n with you?" 

 The man glanced around the back of the truck that he was waiting to jump into. "No, Doc. She missing?"

 Roe did not wait to reply. He kept moving. He had to. Otherwise the growing terror in his mind would consume him. "S’ll vous plaît, Que Dieu la laisse être en sécurité. S'il vous plaît."  (Please, God let her be safe. Please.)

 "Doc! Over here!" 

 He zeroed in on Toye's call at the last truck. Pushing anyone who got in his way, he raced to where Toye stood watching. Once Toye noticed him coming, he sat back down, turning back to the person sitting next to him. 

 Rounding the side, he felt his heart and mind restart as he saw her. She sat next to Toye and some other Private on the uncomfortable wooden bench, her beloved rifle in her lap. As if sensing him, she looked up to meet his gaze. A soft smile -his smile- touched her lips. The panic and terror threatening him vanished like a mist in the wind. 

 "Mon amour." He breathed out, relief flooding him. There was dirt smeared on one side of her face and a small cut on her chin. Otherwise she appeared fine, even if her clothes looked disheveled and dirty beyond saving. She was alive. (My love.) 

 Without a further word, he jumped up into the truck and knelt down in front of her. "Hey, you." He held her face in his hands, gazing into her eyes for a long moment before pressing their foreheads together. 

 "Hey you." She whispered back, her hands cupping his own face. He could taste her breath on his lips. "I'm alright, Gene. I promise."

 Leaning back, he ran a hand through her hair, wondering what happened to her helmet. Then he felt something wet and sticky on his fingers. Pulling his hand back, he saw blood on it...her blood. 

 Immediately he went into overbearing doctor mode. 

 "What happened?" He demanded, turning her head to the side and trying to find where the bleeding stemmed from. 

 "I'm fine."

 He glared at her before resuming his inspection. Carding his fingers through her hair for an extra second, he began inspecting underneath, silently praying it was minimal. He could not lose her. There was nothing gushing so that was a good sign. She still seemed coherent, her eyes were not dilated, other good signs. 

 "I just hit my head a little on a brick wall when one of those explosions went off. It's not a big deal."

 "Doll, shut up and let the man look you over." Toye drawled from beside her, watching the two in amusement. 

 Roe rolled his eyes as she stuck her tongue out at Toye. She winced when he touched a particular spot on the side of her head, hair matted with blood. After a moment, he leaned back on his knees and began digging through his medic bag. 

 "There’s a laceration but it doesn't look deep. You're lucky." He wrapped a bandage around the cut and her head to hold it there. Suppressing a chuckle, he continued to wrap it as she narrowed her eyes at him. She hated being fussed over. In his opinion, she could deal with it. She needed to get better...for both of their sakes. 

 The truck suddenly lurched, beginning its escape from Holland and the disastrous mission. 

 Roe shoved the Private next to her over, ignoring his protest, and slipped to her other side. Quietly he took her hand in his as his eyes scanned the others. He had been so focused on her; he did not even think about if any of the other men in the truck were injured. Luckily none were. 

 "I'm sorry I scared you. I had to help." She murmured, voice barely above the rumble of the trucks. 

 He sighed, squeezing her hand then pulled her closer into his side. "I know, mon amour, I know." He looked down, meeting those eyes he adored. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

 She laid her head on his shoulder. "No, but you can't protect me from everything. This is war."

 "I can try. Tu es tout pour moi. J’ai besoin de toi à mes côtés. Toujours. Je promets après cette guerre de continuer à vous aimer et à vous chérir comme vous le méritez." The words poured forth, needing to be said, needing to be spoken aloud, even if just for his own sake. Though he meant them with all his heart. (You are everything to me. I need you by my side. Always. I promise after this war to continue to love and cherish you as you deserve.)

 "Gene, you know I don't speak French. It's not fair cause I wanna know what you're saying."

 "I'll teach you, y/n. I promise." He could not help but press a chaste kiss to the top of her head as they bounced along the road.

 Looking at the blue sky and clouds above, he prayed he would be able to fulfill both of his promises to her, that they would both make it through this war. Most of all, he prayed for her to be safe, even at the expense of his own life. 

Let your Warmth melt my Ice

You all know I like emotional destruction, right? Well strap in, because this post by the amazing @nock-and-bolt hit me right in the feels. Had to write a short to it. Also tagging @janjan-the-ninth because they said so XD Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: Temporary character death, grief, misunderstanding)

[Warning: Critical damage detected. Shutdown imminent.]

Nines was already on the ground by the time he had realised those bullets had indeed hit him and that there had been more enemies than anticipated as he had rushed in. He still heard the gunshots around him, the people shouting, barking orders and screaming in pain. His systems were still busy locating each position and making tactical calculations based on this information. Still prompting him to continue, to shield his friends and protect them. Apparently, his systems hadn’t caught up with the fact that he was minutes from death. True death. This body wasn’t able to function anymore and the loss of Thirium meant his hardware would run hot and eventually melt. There was no way for him to survive this.

His fingers started to spasm from wires shortcutting. His vision glitched and his analysis program darted from one detail to the next. Was there still gunfire? It was hard to concentrate, to filter sensory information and not get lost in a confusing mess of signalling. He felt how some non-vital systems began to shut off and left his mind a little less crowded, a little less confusing. Gavin, his thoughts managed to form conscious words again. Where was he? Was he safe? He tried saying the name, forming it with his voicebox but never hearing it as his auditory systems malfunctioned briefly. Next were his legs and torso, but he never regained feeling there. He was about to try again, as a face appeared in his vision.

‘Nines? Nines!’ Those words were like balm on his soul. Those special sounds only the human could speak like that, this special melody they used to create meaning. This name he had been given by the same person that meant so much to him. ‘Nines! Can you hear me? Nines?’ The android registered he was lifted up by Gavin and propped against a wall. He could see the human touch his wounds and press his hands on them as if that would help in any way. ‘Nines! Phcking asshole, say something!’ Nines tried once again to say his name, but his voicebox was already damaged, only static making it out of the small speaker. If anything, it made the human even more anxious. ‘Nines. Nines, phck!’

[Warning: Commencing Shutdown. Begin upload?]

Upload. Right. Nines knew it was likely for nothing. He was the only model ever produced and therefore unique. But still, an upload of his memories and personality matrix was something to continue living with. If what they did was living and if their programming was a soul like most humans were proclaiming, then maybe the upload could safe him. Keep him alive, even if there was no immediate body to switch to. Maybe someone valued him enough to rebuild or design anew.

Gavin certainly would.

Gavin.

[Upload started… 1%]

‘Nines, what’s going on? Your LED flickers! What- No.’ Nines managed to lift his eyes to the human’s face. He was kneeling next to him, holding him upright against the wall and trying frantically to stop the blood flow. If he had been human, it might have worked. ‘No, no, no, you are not dying! You are not!’ His face showed despair, shock, pain. All for him. All Nines had ever wanted for him was to be happy. Now he was the reason he wasn’t.

[Upload at 26%]

Nines didn’t want to see him like this. Nines wanted to see his smile again. Those green eyes sparkling in the light of the sun when they spent their break outside on the bench. He wanted to hold his human and comfort him. He wanted to be there for him. He wanted to make sure he was safe on future missions. He wanted to reach the day when he could finally tell him what he was sure Gavin never wanted to hear. He wanted to… do so many things. ‘Nines! Please. Tell me what to do! Cyberlife’s contacted, Jericho too. Help’s on the way. Hold on. Stay with me.’ There were tears on the man’s face as he swallowed and looked at him in panic. Don’t panic, Nines wanted to say. You will live, he thought. I protected you. But those words were never spoken.

[Upload at 63%]

Nines felt more and more systems shut down due to overheating and misfiring of vital sensors. It wasn’t long now, and he needed his last moments to remember. His eyes had never left Gavin’s, but now the android tried to form a smile on his face that he hoped to express everything it needed to. Hoping that it would calm down the human and be how he remembered him. As long as he still could, Nines lifted his arm and hated how it jerked back and forth and never reached its goal. His motor control was malfunctioning and the servo itself too damaged to work at full capacity. Nines’ arm hovered over his chest, reaching for Gavin’s face. Thankfully the human got the message and took his arm to help him direct it so his hand cupped his cheek.

Warm. Nines had been fascinated from the start how warm humans could be. Like they were constantly overheating and radiating their energy into the world. Those creatures couldn’t be described better in his eyes. Exhaling love with every breath and being compassionate beings always looking out for the wellbeing of others, even when the person was described as an asshole, like Gavin. Gavin cared. He was just hurt one too many times and now Nines would add to it.

[Upload at 82%]

‘Nines! Nines, stay with me.’ Nines followed a tear that was rolling down from Gavin’s cheek and stopped as it hid his hand. His robotic hand. He hadn’t realised his skin had retracted, but he was showing off his white plastic hull on his entire body by now. When had that process shut down? ‘You bastard! Stay with me! Don’t you dare phcking dying on me!’ The android felt how he lost power over his body and sacked down, but Gavin was reacting fast, catching him and holding him in his arms. The man grabbed his arm and pulled it over Nines’ chest. ‘Nines! I swear, if you die on me, I will kill you!’ Could he still do that, Nines would have laughed. Only Gavin would curse at him, threaten him in his dying seconds.

[Upload at 96% Shutdown imminent]

Nine’s vision was getting hazy, static filling it and only leaving him his area of focus: Gavin’s panicked face. He couldn’t feel the warmth of Gavin’s touch anymore, could only see and hear. ‘Nines, please. Please, I need you, you plastic prick! Don’t you dare do this to me!’

[Upload finished. Shutting down…]

Gavin lifted him to his chest and buried his face in Nines’ drenched clothes. ‘You can’t leave me, you phcking asshole! Because I… I love you.’

Nines hadn’t had any more time to process this.

[Shutdown]

-

Gavin’s day had been completely normal. It was surprising how normal his days had been lately. People around him were chatting, laughing at each other’s jokes and discussing the new shop around the corner. He was driving through a city that continued life as usual whenever he got to work or back home. Crime scenes were coming up and vanishing, cases came and went. Reports were written and evidence filed. But the chair in front of Gavin stayed empty. The terminal remained switched off.

All the little trinkets Nines had gathered on his desk and considered skilful decoration gathered dust. No one had the heart to put them away. Just as no one had thought to hire a new person. Not when there still was a chance that Nines could come back. Gavin looked down on his hands that mindlessly fidgeted with a small ring. Normally shining blue, yellow or lastly red, it was now just a dark circle in white plastic. But it was something to cling to, something to remember. Just in case. Just in case Nines didn’t come-

No. No, he had to. The android had uploaded his personality to Cyberlife as a failsafe. And although there was no body for him, Jericho had bullied the company to build a new one. With the blow Cyberlife had to take to their image, it hadn’t taken much. Gavin had hope they could make it. Maybe it was all he had. In any scenario, he had never thought for the android to die first. Almost completely bullet proof, the chance of him dying… Well, Gavin had considered it zero at this point. That was about the only reason he hadn’t said what he told the dying android long ago. Thinking they had time…

He sighed deeply, looking over to his mug and tilting it a bit to look inside. Empty. Of course. He groaned. He really didn’t want to get out of his chair. He had no motivation for anything anymore and even a trip to the breakroom could as well had been a journey around the earth. The more surprised he was as a new mug was placed next to his. Steaming and filled to the rim. Gavin looked at it, brain lagging behind. The hand that was holding the handle lingered for just a second, then retracted. Gavin’s eyes followed the movement and were directed to a white uniform. Black details at the opening and the pockets, a ridiculously high collar and then… That stupidly beautiful face.

Gavin’s throat went dry. ‘Nines?’, he croaked disbelievingly. ‘Are you… phck, are you Nines?’ The android in front of him lowered his head a bit, then nodded. ‘Yes. It’s me. Cyberlife rebuild my body and I thought to return to work as soon as possible. I left you long enough with both our-‘ He couldn’t finish, as Gavin stood up and grabbed him by the jacket to push him against the glass separating the desk from the hallway. ‘You asshole died in my arm and all you can think about is work?’ He let go of the android, swallowing his emotions. Damn, the android had just returned from the dead, he should be happy. ‘I… I’m sorry for the trauma I’ve caused you. I’m fine again. I just thought we could get back to normal?’

Gavin looked at the android and swallowed for real this time. Hell, how would dying feel like? All Gavin wanted to do is shake Nines and tell him how relieved he was and how good it was to see him again and how bad he managed living on without him and also ask how he felt about what Gavin had asked him in the very end. Because he was ready to make up excuses for that, if the android didn’t feel that way and oh would it help him if Nines felt the same…

But exactly how Gavin managed trauma like that – with his thoughts running at hundred miles an hour and his only reaction anger and brashness – Nines might need the exact opposite: Calmness and time to think and reset. He was an android after all. Maybe all that programming and logic had some use after all. Gavin nodded and instead hugged Nines’ middle. ‘It’s good to have you back, tin-can.’ The android didn’t move to return the hug but stood there rather awkwardly. ‘Thanks…’ Gavin stepped back and let go of the man. ‘Err… yeah, sure. Let’s… let’s get back to work, shall we? And if you… want to talk about what happened or… what that makes you feel… I’m right here.’ ‘Thank you’, Nines smiled and that smile almost made everything alright again.

The android moved over to his terminal, switched it on and interfaced with it, while dusting off his belongings with the other hand. Gavin too returned to his work. As if it was just another day.

-

Nines was thankful to be back. He remembered not believing it might work, but Cyberlife had harboured his soul in their servers and Jericho had actually managed to move them to build a new body for him. It felt like he had never been gone, as he stepped foot back into the precinct. He had of course been the centre of attention then, but he still managed to surprise Gavin and that was all he had needed to feel that warmth again. As the human had hugged him… It had been heaven on earth. Metaphorically. From his own experience if android heaven was a dusted Cyberlife server, then this was much better.

He had enjoyed the unexpected contact far too much, his systems overwhelmed by the sudden motions that he had actually frozen for a few moments. He was actually surprised Gavin had taken it so well. From his last memories before his deactivation, he had expected there to be more tears… more emotions. But then again, maybe Gavin had already grieved for him. It had been two weeks after all. Maybe he had just been relieved he was back and now was eager to get back to normality. Or he suppressed his emotions as usual until they weren’t too intense to handle. Either way, Nines wouldn’t start a conversation with him, not unless he initiated one first. He had caused the human his pain after all. Gavin would have to chose when was the right time.

Unfortunately, even the next day, nothing changed. Gavin had no interest in opening the talk and even seemed to avoid him. If anything, he was growing more distant, seemingly wanting to tell him something when he left for his home, but never actually speaking up. It hurt. It hurt somewhere deep inside Nines. The android was feeling so much, even looking at the human caused him software instability. But he didn’t dare to tell the man. Gavin hadn’t said something when he was in emotional turmoil because of his impending death. Surely, he would have done that if he felt something. And with how he always pulled a face at seeing publicly displayed affection, maybe he didn’t want to hear it either.

Nines loved the human. He wanted to deepen their relationship. He had died to protect Gavin and he would do so again and again, if he had to. But with how Gavin kept to himself and didn’t even acknowledge him some days, Nines really doubted that was what the human wanted.

-

Gavin was beyond disappointed. He would have been angry hadn’t that felt too much of a defeat. The android had had the audacity to die in his arms catching multiple bullets for him and then ghost him like that? Gavin had confessed his love to the plastic prick in a moment of vulnerability and now the damn android just pretended nothing had happened? “Detective”-d him at any given moment and displayed no more emotion than before their mission? Hell, if he wasn’t interested, Nines could have just said so. This was just an asshole move. And two could play that game of ignorance. It didn’t matter to Gavin that his soul was bleeding with every stumbled ‘Oh. Okay.’ from the android whenever Gavin shoved him away further. He was far too angry for it. And it only got worse during the week.

Friday finally was the day, that promised Gavin refuge. He wouldn’t have to see the android on the weekend and have time to come to terms with his contradicting feelings. Then, on Monday, he would just tell the android and be done with it. No more dancing around each other, trying to find out how the other felt and watch out for the other’s wellbeing. He decided to leave early and switched off his computer grabbing his jacket as he stood up. ‘Gavin?’ Oh hell no. If the android continued to speak with him, he would resort to violence at this point. He was hurt and confused and done, so, so done with it all. So, he just turned around and left. Only once he left the building and heard the door fall into the lock behind him, he sighed and took a deep breath of the grounding cold February air.

He shouldn’t have stopped. ‘Gavin!’ The door behind him opened and Nines stumbled out of it, coming to a halt everything but gracefully. His LED was a dark red and Gavin didn’t want to think of what that reminded him of. ‘What do you want?’, Gavin spat. ‘I want to talk with you. About what happened. I held myself back until now because I know this might have been traumatic for you and-‘ ‘Phck off! You died in my arms! You know, you are right, that might have been traumatic for me, phckhead!’ ‘I apologize for that, but-‘ ‘Oh, you apologize?’ Gavin turned around and walked right into the android’s personal space. ‘You apologize? For what exactly? Dying? Ignoring me? Disregarding that I laid out my heart in front of you and you decided to step on it?’

Nines took a step back and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘What- What do I mean?’, Gavin wheezed in disbelief. ‘Ex-phcking-cuse me? I mean that I told you I love you! You died in my arms and I thought if this was your last moment and you died for me, I could as well tell you that! Maybe made it a bit easier for you. Less hurtful. Phck, what have I been thinking? You are just a damn machine, you don’t phcking feel. Or at least not in that way. Because hell, I tell you that, let you into my heart and when you come back, you hand me a coffee and go straight back to work?’

‘Wait’, Nines said, holding up his hand. ‘Wait, Gavin. Your last words to me were: “Don’t you dare do this to me!”’ He blinked. ‘Or were they?’ Gavin clenched his jaws. ‘No, asshole they weren’t! My last words to you were that I loved you!’ ‘When was that? Right before I shut down? Was my LED still flickering?’ ‘How the hell should I know?’, Gavin asked, throwing his hands in the air. ‘You were dying in my arms; I don’t think I had more important things on my mind than your stupid mood light!’ ‘Gavin, this is important’, Nines said, stepping forwards and holding the man by the shoulders. ‘Was it less than two seconds before my body went rigid?’ Gavin shrugged. ‘Yeah, could be. Why?’

Nines let go of him and had to sit down on the stairs in front of the station. ‘Gavin, I uploaded my memory to Cyberlife as soon as I knew I would die. It recorded everything up to two seconds before my death, because it takes a bit of time to end the Upload and shut down the body. I… I might have heard it and understood it as I was dying, but I… the backup of me that I am now has no memory of you telling me that.’

Gavin stared at the android and processed what he just heard. Then he sat down next to Nines on the stairs and stared blankly ahead. ‘Phck.’ ‘Fuck indeed.’ ‘And all the time I thought you were just a work-centred prick ignoring me.’ ‘I wouldn’t have ignored it had I known it, Gavin, I’m sorry.’ Gavin rubbed his face in frustration. Phck, he just wanted this day to be over.

But Nines didn’t let him end it just yet. He cleared his throat and looked over at the human that had nearly folded in on himself. ‘Err… Do you… Do you really love me?’ Gavin lifted his head up, his fingers resting on his mouth. He looked at Nines from the corner of his eyes, only then letting his hands slap on his knees. ‘Yes, I guess’, he sighed. ‘No, yeah I do. I was so angry at you all phcking week it won’t be a heartfelt confession now, but I do love you. The way you’re just… Always there for me and care so much. Most would just pretend not to have seen me and move on. You sought me out. You are actually funny and intelligent and competent. And you are phcking hot, okay? I feel so much for you and seeing you die… I couldn’t handle it. I think the hope you would come back to me kept me going.’ There was a brief moment of silence.

‘I love you too, Gavin’, Nines answered in a whisper. ‘I can’t understand how I am the one lucky enough to got to know you when so many others had their chance before me, but I am happy fate chose me. I… I can’t express how I feel as I shouldn’t be feeling at all as an android. But I do and I wanted to tell you for so long. I just always thought you didn’t want to hear something like that…’ ‘Nines?’, the human spoke up and turned towards him. Nines followed his movement and his eyes naturally found their way to Gavin’s, who smiled. ‘Nines, this was the only thing I ever needed to hear.’

Nines blinked, but didn’t have the time to answer, as Gavin laid an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Once again, Nines froze up, but Gavin’s warmth quickly made him melt into the touch. Soon enough, he would have to think about all of this to process what he just heard, but for now…

For now, he enjoyed this.

Innocence

Genre: Mafia AU, Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader

Warnings: violence, guns/gun violence, cursing, violence against women, home invasion

Synopsis: When you end up getting caught in the crossfire, you’re brought to the local mafia leader who promises to rehabilitate you. Although, falling in love you certainly wasn’t part of the plan.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Shit, she's bleeding out," someone said from a few feet away.

"What? Who?"

"I don't know some random lady."

You moaned in pain as a pair of boots approached you and eventually, you could make out the fuzzy face of someone crouching over you. You couldn't tell where the pain was coming from, only that you felt it rippling through your body

"Fuck, Namjoon doesn't like when innocent people get hurt. We've gotta take her back with us."

"What? Isn't that just part of it? Innocent people get caught up in this shit all the time."

"Not the way Namjoon does it, come on, come grab her legs."

As one of the men looped his arms underneath your armpits, you felt one final jolt of pain that felt like it was ripping your body apart before everything went black.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Is she going to live?" one of the men who'd brought you back asked.

"Yes, barely," Namjoon said, his face firm and his voice steadier than normal. "You're sure it wasn't one of your bullets?"

"All of our bullets were accounted for, sir."

Namjoon nodded. "If I find out either of you are lying, you know the consequences?"

Both men nodded in understanding.

The doctor emerged from the room where you were. "She's waking up, sir. I'll leave the rest to you. Call me if she starts showing any concerning signs."

Namjoon nodded and waved the doctor off and entered your room.

If it weren't for the drab gray appearance of the room, it would've looked like you were in a normal hospital room. An IV in your arm and white sheets pulled up to your chin. Your eyes were still closed, but your heart monitor was beginning to slowly pick up from it's near flat line when you'd arrived.

He pulled a stool from the corner of the room and sat next to your watching as your chest moved slowly up and down. The doctor had extracted the bullet and cleaned the blood from your skin and clothes. Your bloody jeans and sweatshirt had been washed and were folded on a table in the corner of the room. Your hair was still dirty, but the blood washed from its tips.

You looked younger than when he'd first seen you and it only made his chest ache. He had no idea who you were or what you had been doing in that part of town, but you certainly didn't deserve the bullet in your shoulder. It had nearly missed your collarbone and the important blood vessels, but you'd still lost enough blood to be anemic.

Your eyelids began to flutter and Namjoon sat still as he met them.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You opened your eyes and were immediately met with a pair of unfamiliar brown ones.

"Hello," the man said. He sat with his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped together.

Other than the fact that you had no idea who the man was, the more concerning thing was that you had no idea where you were and you were seemingly alone with him. If you had to take a guess, the room almost seemed like a storage room of some sort; a cement floor and shelves lining all but two of the walls. They were mostly empty except for vague medical supplies.

"Where am I?" you asked, the beep of your heart monitor beginning to quicken.

"You're safe." The man sat up straighter, but his eyes never left you. "I'm Kim Namjoon. What's your name?"

You eyed him suspiciously. "Y/N."

"Just Y/N," he asked, his eyebrow arching.

"For now."

He chuckled before getting up and heading for a sink in the corner of the room. He filled a glass and walked back over to you with a pill in his hand.

"Take this," he said, placing the pill in your palm and holding the glass above you for when you were ready. You stared at him for a moment before glancing down at the pill. It looked normal and based upon the fact that this man was most likely the one responsible for saving your life, he would have no reason to kill you now, right? "It's an iron supplement. Cause you lost so much blood. You'll have to take them every day for a couple months."

You nodded and placed the pill in your mouth and swallowed it down. There was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you could trust Namjoon, at least that he wouldn't kill you.

"Now, I need you to tell me everything you remember from the night you were shot."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You were on your way home after work. You'd just graduated and started in an entry-level position at your dream company, but it left you exhausted and overworked. It was already nearly 11 and you knew you should've allowed your co-worker to drive you home, but you didn't know him well enough yet to trust him with where you lived.

You normally felt fairly safe walking through the city by yourself. You'd grown up there and you knew the areas to avoid, but you were tired and decided to take a short cut through a rougher neighborhood.

You took out your headphones and increased your pace so that you were walking faster than your normal pace, but wouldn't look too scared or suspicious.

For the first ten minutes, everything was normal, but as you neared the end of the neighborhood and the beginning of yours, you heard yelling. You looked around and couldn't find a source, so you kept walking and as you crossed an alleyway, a man ran into you, knocking off your feet.

You sat up, your vision a little blurry and your head still coming off its daze. As your vision came back, you stood up and braced yourself against the wall. That's when you looked up and the shot came. You couldn't see who shot you, if they meant to, or if it was just an accident. Heck, you couldn't even tell which direction the bullet came from.

You fell to your knees and eventually on your back. At first, the pain was unbearable, you felt the blood pouring out of your shoulder, although couldn't tell if it was from the back or front. But, eventually, the pain ceased and your eyelids began to feel heavy. It was soon after the man lifted you that a final burst of pain caused everything to go black.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"You don't know who shot you?" he asked. The darkness in his eyes as he asked the question caused the pain in your shoulder to flare.

You shook your head. "It happened too fast."

He nodded, before getting up and leaving the room without another word. You then only saw strangers as they came to give you meals or check your wound which still had a long way to heal.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Morning," Namjoon said, in the exact same cadence he said it every morning. He laid a tray over your lap which had a spinach and cheese omelet, toast, and a rotating menu of meats. Today was two slices of bacon. And, of course, on the side was a pair of iron supplements.

"Think you can eat it all today?" he asked. While you needed the nutrients, you had basically no appetite most of the time, but today, the toast was spread with a red jam it usually wasn't, which made you bite into it immediately. Raspberries. Your favorite. "Why don't you tell me about your job today?"

He pulled a chair to your bed and flipped it around and sat on it backward, allowing his arms to dangle off the top. The two of you had promised to tell each other something about each other each day. You knew it was a way to get information out of you and monitor your well being, but you didn't really mind. It started to become one of your favorite parts of the day.

"I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."

He stiffened at that. You had your suspicions that Namjoon's job was less than legal considering how you ended up meeting him. You just weren't sure exactly what it was he did. Was he some sort of drug lord? A gang member? A pimp? Your stomach turned at the possibilities.

"Okay," he said. "You just have to promise that you won't be scared of me."

"O-okay."

He nodded, although you knew he caught the shaking in your voice. "You first."

"I—uh—I work for a non-profit that benefits women who have been victims of violence," you said. "I help process all the donations and make sure all the finances match up. I was an accounting major in college, but I didn't really feel like doing other people's taxes for the rest of my life. I want to feel like I'm making some sort of difference. Even though I don't make as much money, I feel like it's worth it."

"You are," he said. "You are making a difference."

Silence filled the room for a few moments, but it wasn't awkward or tense, it was simply you and Namjoon in your own thoughts. His eyes locked on you and your eyes unconsciously noticed the dimples on his cheeks that appeared and disappeared as he talked.

"All right, you promised," you said. "Your turn."

Namjoon's posture straightened and he cleared his throat. "Oh, well, I'm sort of the leader of the local mafia. I mean, it's not quite as nefarious as it seems. It's mostly just money laundering and stuff like that."

"But, you still kill people?"

"I never have. My men do only when necessary."

You gulped and pulled your eyes away from him. "Then, why did you save me?"

"Because I don't like innocent people getting hurt."

"How did this happen? How did you become the leader? You--you just don't seem like the type."

"My family," he said. "They kind of started this whole thing. I went to college and everything, but ultimately, I didn't know how to be anything else."

"You know you could always leave it behind. You're the leader. You could end all of this."

"It's not that easy. If I end it, I immediately become a target or someone would start it back up. And, let's just say, you don't want this kind of operation falling into the wrong hands. Many wouldn't have batted an eye at you getting shot."

"Don't think you're the hero here. Whether or not it was your men who shot me, whether or not you chose to save me, I still got shot because of you."

Namjoon's jaw stiffened and he crossed his arms over his chest. "You're right, I'm sorry," he said. "Although, it's not quite as easy to just leave."

"What did you study in college?"

"Huh?" He paused. "Literature and Writing."

You smiled. "Why don't you read to me?" you asked. "I never really got to take any literature classes in college and I missed them. I still have longer to recover. You could read to me whenever you wanted to."

"I'd like that," Namjoon said, his dimples appearing and lighting up his face.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You laid back with your head and neck pressing back against the pillow as you closed your eyes as Namjoon's voiced lulled you asleep. You knew it wasn't just his voice and the way his voice took on a smooth rhythm as he read or the way his voice grew hoarse eventually. The doctor had slowly been weaning you off of the painkillers, while the pain wasn't as intense as before, it still exhausted you.

He was reading from Jane Eyre a book you certainly hadn't expected Namjoon to choose. The gothic element was enough to send shivers down your spine, but not keep you from falling asleep.

You were halfway through the book now and you knew you would never finish. Your condition was improving and you barely needed pain medication anymore. The doctor came once a day and today he had told you that he thought you'd be able to go back to your own apartment and life the next day.

Namjoon stopped reading and it jolted you out of your half-slumber.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I thought you were asleep."

You opened your eyes and shook your head, although your eyelids were only half open crescent moons and the way you were forcing them open made Namjoon chuckle.

"You're tired, anyway," he said. He closed the book and stood up from his chair. "Goodnight. Sleep well."

You watched as Namjoon walked towards the door and felt something in your chest. "Wait," you said. "This is the last night and we haven't finished the story."

"Y/N, we still have half the book left. There's no way--"

"Just stay with me tonight," you said. "I'll have to go back to being in my apartment all alone tomorrow and I don't know. I've enjoyed having you around."

"Y/N--" Namjoon said. "You're just--this isn't right--"

Namjoon's eyes met yours for a second before he ripped them away and walked out of the room with the book still in hand.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"She--she asked me to stay with her," Namjoon said. He sat in his desk chair with his feet resting up on the desk, something he only did when he was thinking deeply.

"Is that a bad thing?" his right-hand man, Yoongi asked. "You like her, right?"

"Yes, but Yoongi, she hasn't been out of that room for weeks. She's only seen me and the doctor with only a couple of exceptions. It's just Stockholm Syndrome."

"We didn't kidnap her though. She could've left if she wanted."

"Yes, Yoongi, but why would she? She would've had to pay for medical care elsewhere. Even if we didn't mean to, we trapped her here. She's hardly seen anyone but me. Of course, she'll become attached."

"It's not like you were torturing her, Joon. You were helping her and I see the way you look at her too. Everyone does."

"If I wanted to, I can't give her the life she deserves. She's doing good things, Yoongi. She's innocent and I want her to stay that way." Yoongi nodded in his head in understanding, but there lingered a small glint of hesitation in his eyes. "And, even if I could, keeping her around her is dangerous. If our rivals found out about her, she'd become a target."

Namjoon sighed and stood up from his desk and shuffled through his papers. "Make sure she gets home safely tomorrow. Keep a couple of men in the area for the next week or so just in case it was a targeted attack."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"He's not coming?" you asked the man who introduced himself as Yoongi.

He shook his head and gave you a sympathetic look. "But, he did want me to give you this."

Yoongi reached into his bag and pulled out the copy of Jane Eyre Namjoon had read to you. It was an old copy--at least fifty years old--and he had a bookmark stuck halfway through. You opened to the marked page and found his handwriting on the bookmark. He wrote in black ink. It was neat, although smudged around the edges because he'd closed the book on it when the ink was still wet.

It's your turn to read now Namjoon x

Your eyes focused down on the 'x'. It certainly didn't mean anything, it was just his way of signing off, but it left you satisfied as you walked out of the door escorted by Yoongi and a few other men.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

3 months later

"Y/N!" one of your coworkers said, rushing into your office. "You're never going to believe this."

"What?" you asked looking up from your work.

"Some guy just came in here. He was so handsome and wearing a fancy suit and he wrote us a thirty thousand dollar check." She held up the check so you could see it.

"No way," you said, grabbing the check from her hands. You held it up to the light and placed it under the black light you had to verify authentic donations. You had a weird feeling in your gut and you glanced down at the signature on the check. You couldn't make out a particular name, but a shiver ran down your spine. "What was his name?"

"Oh, well, I don't think he told us his real name. But, you know the rich types, always wanting to protect their identities."

"Y/C/N, what. was. his. name?"

"Mr. Rochester."

6 months later

"We're a bit short his month, Y/N," your boss said. "You know I hate to deduct from wages. It wasn't much this month."

You nodded. It was the reality of working for a non-profit. Sometimes you got paid and sometimes you didn't, but you knew the money was going to people more deserving of yourself. You waited until you were on your way home to open the envelope and see just how much you were getting that month. When your eyes met the total, you slowly looked down before continuing onto your apartment.

You pushed the key into the lock wondering just how you were going to scrounge up enough money for next month's rent. You could always sell something or do some odd jobs on the weekends. You opened your door and stepped inside feeling your foot slip forward, causing you to nearly trip, your only savior is your right hand was still holding on to the doorknob.

You got your footing and bent down to find a small envelope that was slid under your door. Your name was printed neatly on it. Normally, this would freak you out, but you noticed the same black ink from the bookmark in the copy of Jane Eyre.

I know money has been tight. Here's rent for the next couple months. Keep doing what's important x Mr. Rochester

Tears came to your eyes and your bit your index finger as you read the note over and over again. He was absolutely insufferable and part of you wanted to rip up the check, but instead, you slipped it out of the envelope and into your purse.

9 months later

It was a quiet Saturday night when you heard the knock at your door. It was nearly 11 pm and you weren't expecting anyone. You were already in your pajamas and you had picked up Jane Eyre for the first time in a few months. It wasn't that you found it particularly hard to read, but every time you picked it up, you were reminded of him. The man you had no idea why you still thought about. The man who occasionally came into your life and then left just as quickly.

The knock came again and louder this time. This time panic rushed down your spine and you froze. Was it best to approach the door and give away the fact you weren't asleep? Or was it best to just act like you'd already done to bed and hope they go away?

You stayed put, but clutched your cellphone close to you. Another knock never came, but instead the rustling of the doorknob and the clicking of the lock. It was when you heard it successfully unlock that you ran towards the kitchen. You grabbed your largest kitchen knife and crouched in the corner.

You were in the middle of dialing emergency services when you were yanked up by your hair and your cellphone went clattering to the floor.

"Ah, yes, you are her," the man said.

You didn't recognize the man in front of you. He was taller than you and held your hair in a tightening grip that caused you to whimper.

"You're plainer than I expected. He's head over heels for you, so I figured you must be beautiful. But, I guess, you must have better things to offer." He smirked, but unlike the smirks Namjoon sometimes let slip, this one terrified you.

"Who are you?" you asked.

"It doesn't matter to you baby girl," he said. "All you need to know is that you're going to die."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Namjoon!" Yoongi said, running into the room, breathless. His face was red and his eyes were creased, almost in fear. It was uncommon for Yoongi to get so worked up, let alone run. He spoke when he finally caught his breath, "Min-sung," he said. "Min-sung was seen near her apartment."

Min-sung had once been a trusted man, but he began getting greedy. Wanting to take all the jobs. Skimming money off the top. He felt betrayed when Namjoon finally let him go. You'd think he'd be grateful, most other bosses would've had him killed for how much money he stole, but no. Min-sung's mind was only focused on the drugs he took and the money he needed to buy them.

Namjoon's eyes widened. He pulled open his desk drawer, nearly pulling the entire drawer out of it's setting. He pulled out a handgun and fed in the clip. It had not once been fired. Namjoon had never had the urge nor the need to kill, until that very moment.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"I'm going to play with you," he said. "To let him know you suffered. His precious little secret on the south side of the city."

"Please, I don't know who you're talking about. The walls are thin. I'm sure the neighbors are worried by now." Both were lies, but you hoped it came off convincing enough. He'd let go of your hair, but now he straddled you.

"Tell me, how do you want to die?"

"I don't want to die."

He laughed. "Of course not, sweetheart. But, you're going to. I'm being generous and giving you a choice. I could take that knife you had when I came in and stab you or I could kill you with my hands on your throat. Or, I could hold your head down in the bathtub and watch as you writhe around--"

Tears pushed out of your eyes and you felt blood sprout from your bottom lip as you dug into it. You squirmed underneath the man trying to wriggle yourself free or one of your limbs free.

"You know, I haven't really given much thought to dying," you said. You slowly slipped your foot upwards until you had enough leverage to bring your knee into his crotch.

He doubled over in enough pain for you to free yourself. You ran back towards the kitchen to grab the knife from earlier. You wrapped your palm around the hilt, but he was behind you before you could turn around. With all your might, you forced the knife backward, but it was at an awkward angle. Yet, you still heard him wince.

The knife dropped from your hand and the man turned you around, forcing your back against the counter. You noticed a long cut on his arm and felt a small sense of pride. At least if he was going to kill you, he would have a scar.

His hands wrapped around your neck and his thumbs sat right on top of your windpipe. You made eye contact with him as he pushed down and you made a small croaking sound as your eyes grew wider and your toes pointed in reaction to the lack of air.

"Stop...please...help...Namjoon..."

You managed only a few words before you ran out of air to manage any sounds. Your vision was beginning to blur and you knew in a few seconds you'd black out and it'd be the end.

The last few moments were so loud you couldn't make out what happened. Yelling, shuffling, a slam of a door, a loud pop. Then, it was all over.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Y/N, Y/N, please come back to me."

You opened your eyes to see Namjoon crouched over you. Blood stained his shirt and even parts of his skin, but his hand was clean as it caressed your cheek softly.

"Thank God," he said. "I thought I was too late. The doctor is on his way and so are my men to clean up everything. We'll pay off the neighbors to keep things quiet if we have to. You don't need to worry."

"I'm not worried, Namjoon." Your voice was hoarse and still not all the way there. You felt the bruises forming on your neck and your entire body ached. You turned you head to see your attacker laying in a pool of blood a few feet away.

"Hey, hey, don't look at that. Come on."

"I'm not a child."

"That doesn't mean you need to see a dead guy on your kitchen floor."

He lifted you up and carried you into your bedroom. After setting you down, he went back out to the living area and grabbed the copy of Jane Eyre.

"You didn't get very far."

"I've been busy."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

1 year later

Namjoon is almost done setting up everything in his new office when he hears a soft knock at the door. A delivery person carrying a large bouquet of flowers strides in and sets the vase on his desk and left without a word.

Curious, Namjoon walked from the corner of the room where he had been shelving books and to the center of the room. He plucked the card from among the flower heads.

I finally found time to finish the book. Congrats on the new job. Let's meet soon. Love, Jane

Keep Me Company

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x Reader

Word Count: Approx 3300

Warnings: Adult language and situations, non-overly graphic sexual times

A/N: Written and submitted for @wi-deangirl77​‘s That’s Some Supernatural Schitt writing challenge. Thanks for being patient!! And my gosh, @plaidstiel-wormstache​ was a magician with her beta skills.

Set sometime after S12. Arthur Ketch and the woman in this story have an established relationship. You know how it goes, something casual develops into something more...maybe.

Arrogant.

That’s what he is, but the word’s not sharp enough to be an insult. Not one he’d care about anyway.

“You seem a bit wound up. Something on your mind?” he asks.

She wants to tell him that she hates him. It’s the easy thing to do. It’s not even like he’s a good person, but it wouldn’t be true and he’d see it for exactly what it is - antagonism.

Always polite, patient, and god damn glorious in bed. He’s done nothing outright to deserve such wrath, either. Except for doing nothing out of the ordinary at all.

“How so?” she tries for casual and evidently fails based on the look of annoyance he throws her way.

“You’re quiet. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re bored.” 

“Well…” she trails off, unsure of what to say or how to say it. She knew what came next - sex. Of course, before that there were drinks. Her glass would never be empty, from bar to table to the hotel suite, which is not usually the issue. Then there was dinner, followed by a dessert that would be left unfinished at the table. As she mulls it all over, she wonders if maybe that was where this night went wrong; unfinished thoughts clouded by alcohol, or maybe the wine was too relaxing. Either way, the brain to mouth filter malfunction was unstoppable.

“You should be nicer to me,” she blurts out.

That gets an eyebrow lift in response, then a squint as he thinks over her words. “I do believe I have behaved like the gentleman I was raised to be.”

“That’s not,” she heaves a sigh as she collects her thoughts, “I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then by all means, please elaborate,” he says as he sets the cloth napkin on the table and sits back. He’s letting her pick this fight and he knows it.

“I don’t appreciate being put on the spot.”

“I don’t appreciate my companion keeping secrets from me.”

That word. So emotionless and generic. It’s what sets her off.

“You know that you sound like Humperdinck?”

“What?”

“Your voice, your accent. You sound like Prince Humperdinck from ‘The Princess Bride.’ He was an arrogant asshole too.”

His lips purse and she watches the corner of his mouth twitch. “What, exactly, does that have to do with our evening?”

“Nothing. It just annoys me.”

He scrutinizes her, “I see.” He calls for the check and doesn’t bother to initiate further conversation. He still gets up first and helps to pull out her chair for her. Then guides her with a hand at her waist, and steps forward to open doors.

The car ride is silent aside from the quiet music playing and while it’s not comfortable, she’s also foolishly not telling him the night is over. Her back aches from the tension and from twisting her body to face away from him and toward the window. The dark tinted glass doesn’t give much of a view of the outside, but she can watch his reflection from time to time as it catches the light and catches him with that damn smirk of his.

Arrogant and smug, what a combination.

When they finally make it into the hotel suite, he drops the careful grin he used in public, twisting his neck with obvious annoyance.

“Well now, shall we talk like adults or do you plan to insult me for the evening?” He pulls the door closed behind her and then moves to the closet, meanwhile she stands still in the entryway of the suite, stubborn. 

“I can do both.”

“As fun as that sounds, it’s not what I had in mind for our time together.” He removes his jacket and hangs it in the closet, smoothing down its front before turning back to her.

“Right, because that would mess up your routine, and here we are already ahead of schedule.” She turns so the zipper of her dress is facing him, “Go ahead, let’s do this.”

He pauses with one hand at the knot of his tie, ready to loosen it. Again, the look of scrutiny aimed her way. “Ahead of schedule? What does that mean?”

She turns to him and sighs, her expression flat, she was fed up. “It means, Arthur, that every time we do this, it’s the same thing. A call, a fancy dinner, drinks, dessert, then back to the hotel suite, another drink, you undress me and then we end up in bed.”

“It’s more than that,” he argues half-heartedly, “And you’ve never left unsatisfied.” It almost sounds like a question, or perhaps an accusation.

“That’s true, but…”

“But what?” he steps closer, hands in his pockets and face unreadable.

“Does this mean anything to you?” Her face burns hot, hating herself immediately for how needy it sounds.

He stares, his face unchanging. His breathing measured and posture the usual - upright and commanding. 

Her body burns hot and cold while her stomach twists and flips. She’s afraid to move because just about anything might set off the instinct to cry at the moment, either from anger or embarrassment. She tries to keep the tremble from her voice as she asks the next question on her mind. 

“Maybe this one is easier: would you miss me if you never saw me again?”

“You know that in this line of work--” He begins, calm, rehearsed, but it angers her further.

Arrogant, smug, and standoffish.

“I am not asking for promises. Jesus Christ, I know exactly how things are, I don’t need a speech about how we might die on a hunt, about how we need to focus on the bigger picture. Okay? I know all of that.” Her face falls, “I also know that you are not the heartless killing machine that people describe you as.”

He opens his mouth to deny it but she cuts him off. 

“No! No, Arthur. I mean, yes, you kill, but you’re allowed to care for people too. Like it or not, you cared for Toni in some way I will never understand, and,” she hesitates, “And there was Mary Winchester.”

He visibly reels just at the name, but does well to keep control over his reaction, not letting much more out even as he speaks. “Why? Admitting something like that puts us both in danger, allows others to use it against you, and for what? A moment of happily ever after? To satisfy your curiosity or to feel as though you’ve won?”

“You’re not void of emotion, no matter how hard those bastards tried to beat it out of you. I feel like you care, and I’ll admit that I want you to. But whether you honestly do or don’t, I just don’t want to feel like a whore you pay for with an expensive meal and a hot shower. If nothing else, don’t you at least consider me a friend? Or is ‘companion’ really the best I am ever gonna get?”

In a blink, he resets to a more neutral expression, lips only slightly pursed as he thinks. “Is all this really because I called you my companion at dinner?” He turns and moves to a marble counter, pouring the bourbon into two tumbler glasses. He hands one to her and out of habit, she takes it, hand trembling, holding it to her chest as she watches him take a large sip. 

“I don’t need you to tell me anything that isn’t true.” Her gaze drops to the amber liquid in the glass, “I don’t need promises or anything else. But, what I do want is to know that I am not just a placeholder, or a warm body.” Looking back up, she checks he’s listening, seeing if her words are hitting their mark, “I care about you, and I would sure as hell miss you if you left my life after tonight. I just...I just want to know that...God this all sounds so much worse than I imagined.” She turns and paces away, fingers swiping along her bottom lashes to collect the tears gathering.

“I thought you weren’t asking for promises,” he accuses.

“I’m not!” She erupts. She immediately realizes it was the wrong reaction as he squares his shoulders and widens his stance for an argument. After taking a sip and letting it slowly roll down her throat, she softens her tone and tries another approach, “I’m asking for emotion, for you to tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I’m afraid I don’t see a difference.” 

Arrogant, smug, standoffish, and dense. 

“You’re serious?���

“I would hardly call myself an expert on this subject. And by subject, I mean genuine human emotion. Though, you know, it never ends well for those who want the best of both worlds. Believe me, it’s best to draw the line right there.” He tells her, using his free hand to indicate an imaginary line, but failing to meet her eyes.

And there it is, slight as could be, but still a chink in his armor. There was the man she knew wanted affection, but denied himself at every turn.

“Yeah, I am getting that. For all your skills picked up from the Men of Letters, how are you so terrible at this?” She takes another sip from her glass, “Nevermind. Do not answer that.” 

Arrogant, smug, standoffish, dense, abstentious.

She takes a moment, weighing the pros and cons of her thought before expressing it out loud, “Do you think that avoiding happiness is going to keep you from being hurt?”

He scoffs, slipping the tie loose from his collar and pulling it from around his neck. In an uncharacteristic move, Arthur drops it onto the chair nearby instead of neatly setting it away. He sips on his drink while considering the question, eyes wandering like the answer might suddenly appear written on the walls. Moments pass during the quiet, but when he finally lifts his head to speak, his expression has softened.

“I don’t avoid happiness.” He talks as he sets his drink down and moves towards her, “I have plenty in my life to keep me happy,” he takes her drink from her hand, “I try, and evidently fail, to avoid attachment or sentiment.”

He takes her hand, pulling it up to his mouth and kissing across her knuckles, then turning it over and gently placing a kiss to her palm. He then turns her hand again, leaning his cheek into it, meeting her curious gaze. 

“I see the weakness in those who invest too much in others. I’ve felt it in myself. Misplaced expectations and projections of fears and needs muddling things up.” He grips her other hand and holds it between their chests, tight but not too tight. It’s meant to keep her attention on him, not that she could focus on anything else when he’s that close and unguarded.

“With something to lose it’s nearly impossible to make the hard choices, and that is who I am. I’m the one called in for the less appealing jobs; someone with nothing to lose and no one to leave behind.”

“Arthur,” she whispers, heart aching and chest tight with hurt. But not by his words this time, by the truth in his tone. Hurt for him.

“It’s alright, love. It’s the role I play,” He lets their hands drop from his cheek, his grip loose in her hand, but she clutches it tighter. 

“Do you really believe you wouldn’t leave anything behind?” She asks, watching him, waiting for another flicker, some small flinch to indicate he would let himself have this.

He frowns at her, like an animal that can see so plainly the object of desire, and yet knows there’s a trap they can’t make out. He pulls his hand from hers and turns.

“Nothing but ghosts, and maybe a few women,” He huffs, trying to turn the heaviness of the question into a joke. 

That’s it, that’s the last rejection she can take. She turns for the door, even opens it, before he’s in front of her, stopping her, eyes full of terror for abandonment. 

“Don’t leave,” tries to order, but winces at the desperation in his voice. 

“Ask me to stay,” She whispers. “Or tell me that I mean nothing to you and let me leave. You really can’t be that desperate for a fuck, can you?” She stares at him dead-on, letting him hear it in her words, and read it in her body language that she isn’t bluffing. 

“I…” He clears his throat, straightens his shoulders, trying to gain control of the situation, while fidgeting with discomfort.  When he doesn’t say anything, she makes another move for the door behind him.

“Stay.” He watches her, as if unaware he’s said it. 

Vulnerable. A word she never thought she would use for him.

She doesn’t need him to say it again, she heard it loud and clear. It doesn’t stop the knee-jerk reaction as she stares back and eloquently asks, “What?”

“You know, I don’t often make requests unless I am certain I will get what I want,” he tries for the usual Ketch swagger, but it sounds more broken than anything.

“I couldn’t have been more clear that all you had to do was ask.”

“Then stay?”

They watch each other for a few seconds, making certain that neither would move. She lets go of the door, allowing it to slam shut behind her, then puts a hand at the back of his neck and pulls him in to kiss her. He’s pliant, but steady as he goes along with her guidance. His one arm reaches around her waist while the other spreads wide at the back of her head, holding her mouth to his.

His feet move along as she shuffles them back toward the bed, but he stops them before they can tumble onto the sheets.

He pulls away, eyes steely blue and dark, and huffing breaths against her cheek. “It was never my intention to make you feel unappreciated.” His fingers move while he speaks, nimble fingers pulling down the zipper of her dress and letting it fall open and loose on her back.

She looks up at him, making certain he sees the genuine acceptance she offers, “I know.” She shrugs her shoulders, letting the straps fall and the fabric begin to fold down and around her, caught over his hands.

He slowly begins to lower himself down to the ground, onto his knees, hands gently skimming over her body, her dress following, before both rest at her hips, eyes never leaving hers. “I certainly never intended to make you feel unwanted.”

A trembling breath passes between her lips while she looks down at him. He stares back confidently yet penitent as he kneels in front of her, hands spreading over her as though eager to grab, but full of restraint and remaining tender.

“I fully intend to make it up to you,” his voice is soft and steady. His thumbs move to meet at the center of her stomach, just below her belly button. Then, with fingers spread wide, he slides them down, pulling the dress until it falls in a circle around her feet. He hums and looks her up and down appreciatively, “Many, many times over.”

Sometimes he can be vulnerable and affectionate, too.

She looks up and says a silent ‘thank you’ to no one in particular. Her hands rest at her sides, sometimes flinching when his touch almost tickles, but patiently waiting as he teases her. His lips skim along the skin above her underwear, and his hands roam across her lower back, ass, and the backs of her thighs. His breaths are warm and controlled, heating her skin as he moves close, but not exactly to where she is starting to grow wet. 

Her own breaths become shaky and uneven as she waits for what feels like an unfair amount of time, one hand clenched in a fist as she debates just shoving her fingers into her own underwear to get things moving along. With the other, she pushes through his hair. It’s longer than he’s kept it before, and she can feel where it’s twisting into curls at the ends. Her fingertips tickle along the back of his neck, just under his hairline, feeling the sweat already start to dampen his collar. 

She pulls her hand back to drag her nails through, drawing a low growl from him that she feels more than she hears. He tilts his head with the movement her hand as it strokes through his hair and he stares up at her again, pink splotches marking his cheekbones and giving away his excitement.

“You can really get started with that anytime now,” she tries to joke, but it’s edged with desperation.

“As you wish,” he says with a playful glint in his eye.

She gasps, “You -” but doesn’t finish because of course he takes that moment to start to press his thumb in circles of pressure over her, making her nerves tingle, setting off a rush of pleasure. “Ohh. More,” she whispers.

He cheekily replies again, “As you wish.”

Vulnerable, affectionate, playful.

There is no stopping her smile now, “You bastard,” she accuses, but the insult falls as flat as she does as he pushes her down to the bed. She lands with a surprised laugh which turns airy as he pulls her underwear down from her waist.

He starts to kiss at her calf, moving his way up her legs with his mouth and hands constantly wandering, massaging, tickling. “I am a bastard, but I still know the classics. I am certainly more like Westley than you give me credit for.”

“Tell me how perfect my breasts are then,” she mumbles.

He chuckles and stops at the tops of her thighs, muttering something that sounds like an affirmation before he uses just his fingertips to graze along her sensitive skin. He watches for a few seconds as he spreads her wetness back and forth. She feels the heat of his breath as he moves in, and gently presses his lips and the tip of his tongue against her. When he places his mouth on her, she immediately bucks up into him, greedy for pressure and movement. 

With a blink, he turns his look upward, leering at her. His lips spread slightly as he applies more pressure, allowing two of his fingers to tease at her entrance, all while he watches for her reactions.

She remains still, playing along with his little game for a moment, but when he slides away, just shy of where she wants his fingers, she loses all patience.

“What happened to making it up to me?” She pushes herself up to rest on her elbows.

He shifts himself onto the bed until he is face to face with her again, looking her over as though trying to memorize her. 

“Well, you are going to stay, aren’t you?” He stares into her eyes as he waits for her answer.

“Yes,” she tells him, unwavering.

“Well then,” he slides back down her body, stopping to kiss across her collarbone and down one breast, and then the other. The soft kisses tickle more than they linger, but lead in a direct path back between her legs, where he settles on his knees on the floor. “I’ve got time, haven’t I?”

Thorough. That’s another word for him.  

If one has read through my previous entries on Slimes, you should know by now that they are an incredibly adaptable and versatile species. Though they are just a heart and a pseudobody, their special signals and incredible slime allow them to create a variety of shapes and forms. From sticky Flayers who cover themselves in adhesive goo and bone shards, to volatile Fire Slimes that secrete flammable liquids and use gathered flint to light it all aflame! It is no surprise that this species has thrived and spread for so long! However, at times this versatility can lead to some issues. Like any other beast, Slimes are susceptible to parasites, disease and the ravages of time. Horrible things that can mess with their minds and hijack their signals. When a Slime is struck by one of these terrible fates, you either wish for a speedy recovery or a merciful death. Cruel as it sounds, things can become a real problem when these illnesses choose to linger. Be it parasite or virus, one can take over the form of a Slime and turn them into something even worse. I have written about Slime Dragons before, and how those abominations come to be. To quickly recap, Slime colonies tend to have buried networks of elder hearts that aid in reproduction and knowledge transfer. Slimes can physically connect to these networks to share nutrients, information or transfer their young. In most cases, these networks get along just fine, but age can start to wear on the oldest of hearts. As the decades pass by, an elder heart may start to degrade and fail. Most cases end with these dying organs being put of their misery and absorbed, but there are rare instances where the network is too late in realizing this weakness. In extreme cases, a fading heart may start to produce a "rotted signal," a droning message that is simple and infectious. Slimes use signals generated by their hearts to control their goo and communicate with others. They can share signals with one another without a problem, but rotted signals are not so kind. Due to their nature, these signals are capable of overwriting the signals of other Slimes and causing their hearts to pump out the same infectious message. All Slimes who come in contact with an infected heart or pseudobody will be hijacked and added to the collective. Slime Dragons are beasts that can result from a rotted signal taking over, but they are only one outcome for this dire situation. You see, a rotted signal is not just gibberish or useless noise, it often is a normal message that a Slime would use that has become corrupted. For Slime Dragons, the signal that births them is the same signal Slimes use when they are hungry or look to feed. It is a blaring message to consume that takes them over and creates this gluttonous monstrosity. So that means a different signal can lead to a different outcome, which is where the Slime's versatility takes a cruel turn. For each type of rotted signal, their is a corresponding abomination that is born from it, and each is specially equipped to bring a whole lot of misery and destruction. The diseased amalgamation I wish to write about today is known as the Mind Sink. While it is a network that has succumbed to an infection like a Slime Dragon, it is quite different from those slithering, hungering brutes. Their congealed and hardening slime will form skittering legs, and a bizarre frame. While its outside has grown dark and thickened by the corrupted fusion of so many Slimes, within this brittle cage will form a gooey writhing core. Here is where the infested hearts lie, and from there comes a multitude of flailing tendrils and snaring tentacles. I imagine it is a freaky sight to behold, and one I have thankfully never witnessed! The Mind Sink is one of these abominations I am most disturbed by, as it hungers for something more than flesh! The signal that becomes corrupted is the one Slimes will use to transfer knowledge to one another. It is a message that kind of says "can I copy your notes?" which the other Slime will agree to and they will share their information. When it grows foul, though, this message does not ask for permission. Rather, it becomes more of theft than a collaboration, as the infested Slimes mindlessly drain the information out of the victim. Slimes that are caught by these serpentine limbs will immediately be linked to the corrupted network and they will begin to draw out all their knowledge. In moments, the Slime will be emptied of all their information and thoughts, and will instead start to pump out the rotted signal. They will be pulled into the core and will join their infested brethren, ready to seek out the next victim. I know some may think that it is a rough process for the Slimes, and to that I must make a correction. It is a rough process for everyone, because the Mind Sink does not just prey on its own. 

It has been thought that the signals from a Slime's heart shares some similarities with the signals our brains create. While that is a whole field of study and wondering I am not well versed in, I can say that Mind Sink has given us a bit of confirmation on that. Mind Sinks not only hunger for the knowledge of their fellow Slimes, but they will target other creatures as well. Doesn't matter if it is man, beast or thinking plant, if it has a brain or a similar organ, it wants inside. Non-Slimes who are seized by a Mind Sink's arms will be entangled and immobilized in its grip. Coils of slime will pin their limbs in a cocoon, and slithering tendrils will seek out the source of the victim's thoughts. They somehow have a way of pinpointing the location of the brain and, once they do, they find the quickest way to access it. The point of entry is usually a facial orifice, be it nose, mouth, ears or eyes. They will burrow to the brain and the corrupted goop will make physical contact. From there, it will hijack the signals and quickly learn how to manipulate the organ, giving it access to their memories, knowledge and life experiences. With the mental feast now ready, the Mind Sink will say "I will have everything!" and start to drain. So far it has not been found if there is any order to what it consumes first, or if there is any logic behind it. Like a whirlpool, it just sucks in whatever it can. The mind will be siphoned away by this hungering mass, and the victim is quite powerless to do anything about it. When your brain is taken over by a gooey monstrosity, you aren't exactly in the right state of mind to fight back. Due to the difference between Slimes and species like us, the brain draining process takes much longer. Think of it like trying to transcribe an entire book in a language you don't understand. Yeah, you can do it by just copying the symbols, but it will take you longer. It appears that it takes a few minutes for a fleshy or plant-based victim to be fully emptied, and then they will simply be tossed aside. Those that fall to this awful fate will not have much of a mind left. Memories will be gone, any knowledge or skills they had will be wiped out and their own thoughts will be a scrambled mess due to the brutal takeover their brain experienced. Most become comatose, while some may flop around like a fish and babble nonsense. It is a truly horrible thing, and a cure or remedy has yet to be found.   Due to how much longer it takes to fully feed off a victim, one can be saved from the grasp of a Mind Sink before they are truly lost. If one can sever the tendril that holds the prisoner and cut them off from the network, the slime will collapse in a useless heap. The connection with their brain will end and so will the drain. It should be noted that freeing a victim from a hungering tendril is just the first step, because the Mind Sink has a dozen more and it will be eager to reclaim its prize. Best to grab them the second they are let go and run as fast as you can! Severing this link before the mind can be fully consumed is certainly a good thing, but damages will still occur. It depends on how long they were being fed on, as that decides how much was removed from the brain. Those that were held for only a few moments won't notice too much of a difference after they have rested and recovered, but some things will certainly be lost. Probably a handful of distant memories and mental tidbits were taken, but they won't notice their absence right away. Those fed upon for longer will have patchy memory loss, temporary issues with physical functions and scattered thoughts. It will be like someone took the book of their life and ripped out random pages. Thankfully, the book will mostly remain, so that means recovery is possible. Physical therapy will be required for any functions that were damaged by the hijacking, and the mind will need some help too. Not only will they need to relearn lost skills and forgotten memories, but their mind will need to recoup as well. Meditation, therapy and other calming activities are needed to help them stabilize their thoughts and reorganize their scattered mental archives. Recovery is not the fastest thing, but time and patience will help heal the wounds and fill the gaps torn in their heads. No doubt now that it has become obvious that Mind Sinks are incredibly dangerous and need to be exterminated whenever they rise. These are diseased amalgamations that will cause untold damage and tragedy as long as they are alive, and there does not seem to be any peaceful way to resolve their rampage. Like Slime Dragons, the way to bring down these monstrosities is to target the original heart that is creating the rotted signal. That is where the signal is originating from, and the other hearts are merely mimicking it. Kill the source and the others will soon fall silent, causing the fusion to fall apart. When it perishes, all the other Slimes are set free, but they won't be the same as they were before they were assimilated. All the knowledge they had was taken by the Mind Sink, and where all that information goes is quite random. As far as we know, all that it absorbs is held in a condensed mess of noise and thoughts that is shared by all the consumed hearts. Its mind eating abilities may make it seem like it can take memories and knowledge then use them against their foes, but that isn't the case. They do not weaponize what they take, they don't even seem to pay the stolen information any mind. Their own mind is like a garbage can, and anything they get their tendrils on is just chucked inside without a second thought. They don't want to use it or interpret it, they just want it. So with all this knowledge shoved into one mangled ball of mental energy, there is no telling what belongs to who or who belongs to what! When the Mind Sink is terminated, all that knowledge is fractured and dumped randomly into the freed hearts. The Slimes who emerge from the collapsed amalgamation will have a stew of memories and thoughts that are not their own. Some will be completely different from before, while some will be fumbling with the fractured mess they have been given. Not only will they be mixed up with their own selves, but there can also be a whole bunch of information that was stolen from non-Slimes that is now stuck in them! Some may be in bits and pieces, while some Slimes can have whole chunks of a person's life inside them! There is a tale that has gone around about a monster slayer going out to kill a rampaging Mind Sink. He failed to defeat the beast and was consumed by it, but eventually someone brought it down. What was brought back to his family was an empty shell, and they cared for him in this comatose state. The family prayed that one day he would get better, that somehow his mind and faculties would return. One morning, his wife heard someone walking around the house and his voice started to call for her. Believing that a miracle had been granted, she rushed to him only to find him still in his bed and still in a coma. What walked in to greet her in her husband's voice was a Slime, who had somehow wound up with a big chunk of his memories and personality. I personally don't think this story is true, because the ending to this tale has several different versions. Some say she took the Slime as a replacement for her husband, while others say she killed it in horror on the spot. I have heard some say that the Slime returned all the memories to the comatose husband and he was cured, but that one is certainly fake. It would be nice if that could happen, but Slimes are incapable of putting things into our heads like that. Our minds are like colorful sandpaintings, and the Mind Sink just reached in and yanked out handfuls of it. Can you just take those fistfuls and put them back so easily? I say that about returning memories and how that is impossible, but then I remember that there is an exception to that: the Slimes themselves. While they can come out all scrambled, it is possible for the Slimes to rearrange themselves back into facsimiles of their old selves. Slimes can already transfer stuff to one another, so they could puzzle out what parts belong to who and then sort them out. I have no clue how you can tell if a memory is yours or not, but then again, I don't have the ability to copy and share my brain (I wish I did, though! It would make teaching so much easier)! So Slimes can return what was lost between them, but they will still wind up with pieces of non-Slime information. What they do with this is unknown and up to who wields it, but some believe that Slimes have gained portions of their knowledge by recovering stolen thoughts from a Mind Sink. Supposedly an ancient Mind Sink fed upon human settlements and was finally slain, and the Slimes that emerged claimed all the knowledge and skills of its victims. Could it have happened? Maybe. Do I believe it? No, because I do not like the light it paints Slimes in. The theory is essentially saying they stole all their knowledge and wisdom from others, and proposes that they couldn't have come across this any other way. Seems more like it is derogatory towards Slimes than it is trying to learn more about them. Doesn't help that the people I have met who believe this theory have all kind of been jerks towards Slimes. After all this talk about Mind Sinks and their horrific abilities, I bet some think that I can offer tips on how to kill one. In truth, I got nothing. Take out the original rotted heart and the rest falls apart. How do you do that? Not really my department there. I am a researcher not a warrior, and I personally don't want to be anywhere near one of these things. As someone who has spent years learning and seeking knowledge, the concept of a brain-sucking monster is absolutely terrifying to me. All my experiences, all my work drained away in minutes, reducing me to a mindless vegetable! No thank you! I like my thoughts right where they are, and I got enough of a scatter brain already! The only way I want to share my knowledge is through my writings and teachings! Read my life's work, don't yank it out of my skull! Speaking of that, I better watch my tongue. Enough talk about a mind-wiping monster and Eucella might hire one and sic it on me. It would be way easier to chop up my writings and sell a book if I was brainless idiot! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian - You know I read these, right? This is not helping your case in the slightest. And also you might want to drop the "if" and change the "was" on the brainless idiot part.     - Eucella - ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Slimes, Slimes, I love Slimes!      

pov u just shot your childhood hero, wdyd

i.e. i ramble about keiji post-shooting; his occupation, what he does, how he copes, how he feels, etc. etc.

just putting this little thing here because the post got quite long and i couldn't split it up because it's all somewhat related. it started out as a rant / informal ramble but then it got serious lololol

—

one thing i don't understand is why people hc keiji as still having a job with the police post-shooting? like that just doesn't make sense to me– not only based on his character but like... why would you wanna make him a cop with all the talk of how much the police suck lately? personally i'm a brown bitch so i couldn't be down with thirsting over a cop lol. it's just kinda confusing sjdhd

i've seen the hc of him as a private investigator, though, which i like! it's a very neat way to let him flex his detective skills without being part of a corrupt organization and without forsaking his own personal beliefs and feelings about the police, because i don't think those would change anywhere near easily and i just kinda can't see him going back into the police force because of that.

i have often wondered what keiji would do after the death game, and what he was doing before the death game or after the shooting, because i think he'd definitely quit after the shooting, with all the grief and trauma surrounding the job and his newfound cynicism.

i don't think he'd be doing private investigation before the game, or more specifically, before his character develops into something reminiscent of his old self– as he is at the start of the game, he just doesn't have that faith in protection, so i can't imagine him being an investigator at that point. HOWEVER, in a post death game OR non-death game au where keiji has started to pull himself up from that tar (most likely with the help of others lol) i think that's definitely a plausible option for him and i like it a lot :]

as for other options, though... i really don't know! this is more of a stupid idea but i considered him working in a convenience store like shin lol. i had a whoooole au about him, kai, and shin working in the same convenience store just because they can't hold down any other jobs / don't know what else to do for work. shin is able to actually hold down the job because the last manager was mysteriously taken out of commission (i don't know lol) and they were ridiculously short-staffed already so shin ended up being the "most qualified" for the now vacant position. keiji's had a string of odd jobs since the police and this is just the next one. he's hoping to find something with a better wage but this'll do for now, it's even in walking distance from his apartment. and kai, kai's trying to exercise more independence from the chidouins' after becoming his own person! so he gets what i think would be his first job (well, his first official job, anyway... being an assassin and the chidouins' personal maid were more unofficial gigs lol.) ahh that was a lotta rambling about my dumb little au but i just think it'd be neat, they're three of my favourite characters so having them just vibe with each other at work and become friends sounds nice 2 me :] also Coincidentally i ship literally every combination of those three characters so that may have played a part in my casting decisions lmfao

oh wow that was a really long and uncalled for synopsis but this is just a rambly post so it can't really be uncalled for because this post doesn't have any particular point lol (A/N after writing this— IT HAS A POINT NOW, DISREGARD PAST ME)

SO ANYWAY ! i was just considering what keiji would do right after the shooting. honestly i have noooo idea, it's the beginning of a long road of him burying his trauma in a desperate attempt to avoid facing the pain it brings, and it marks a profound loss of innocence which makes his heart begin to grow cold. it's just hard to see the beginning of the process when where he started and where he ended up are very different places.

obviously, he'd quit his job. i wonder if the hallucinations would start right away? him being naïve in the beginning, i'm sure he'd acknowledge them– cry out apologies and plead for forgiveness until his throat is hoarse. the rule of hallucinations in yttd seems to be that if you acknowledge them, they'll burn themselves into your brain and you'll never be rid of them– implying that keiji has done so, as it's likely been years since the shooting and he's still suffering from the visions despite seeming to ignore them now.

ahh, i'm getting in my feelings about keiji now 😭😭 when i started this, i wanted to be held by him, but now i just wanna hug him like damnnnn

but back to what he'd do after the shooting– this scenario is self indulgent, but wouldn't it be nice if he took some time off and just stayed at his mom's place for a while? help her with chores while she's at work, try to regain a sense of normalcy in his childhood home...

i don't think he'd be able to do this right after the shooting. keiji had shame, once upon a time– the guilt would rack him like nothing else. i can imagine him spending a lot of late nights with alcohol, just wishing it was a dream. his resentment towards megumi slowly building as he feels he's being left in the dark as to why, why he isn't allowed to atone, why she's being so cold towards him about the shooting when he's suffering so heavily from the effects of it.

he wouldn't want to be around his dear mom as a murderer, and as a resentful alcoholic who's coping very poorly with his circumstances.

also (tangent incoming), i kind of wonder about keiji and alcohol a lot. in his fondness events with mishima, he says the following—

the "haven't drank that much in years" part makes me wonder– for how long? did he start to restrain himself before the shooting or after? i would say it's most likely after, considering the "feels like it'll swallow me up" comment he made soon after. and, how he talked about binge drinking when he was still a newbie. perhaps it was fine for him to do so, before the shooting— he'd just get wasted and flirt, have a good time. but after, it morphed into an inefficient coping mechanism which he fell far within the depths of to try and control the worst of his grief and self hatred. after that, heavy drinking couldn't just be for fun anymore.

i assume in the "before it got this way" comment, the "way" he's referring to is how he doesn't drink much anymore? or, he could be talking about the depression drinking, but i think the prior makes more sense.

even though i think, given keiji's example of drinking with megumi, that he could have gotten blackout drunk a couple of times purely for fun pre-shooting, i think here he's referring to the painful side of his relationship with alcohol here, the part that took place when he was trying to cope with his trauma. i think he brings up the story of drinking with megumi immediately after, then, to avoid talking about that part of his past. though he doesn't show it much, i think he's deeply ashamed of himself. not only of what he's done, but how he's handled it afterwards.

on a lighter note, though, it's quite funny to think of Lawful Good young keiji shinogi getting drunk off his ass and flirting with every woman he comes across willing to flirt back. like, what's up with that??? he seems like such a serious dork in the flashbacks, but doing well in his police job, he just... lets loose?? no no, honestly i think he hadn't drank much before going out with megumi and he took her insistence on him drinking a little too far, and with his inexperience with alcohol and the successive lack of self restraint that comes with each new drink, you get casanova shinogi, lmao.

BACK TO THE SERIOUS STUFF THOUGH !! i really like the idea of him going to his mom to help him pull himself back together. i think they'd have a solid relationship, fight me! he seems to adore his mom as a child with a good single parent usually does. i'm sure he appreciates her immensely for all the care and love she managed to give him when he was a kid while also working her ass off to support them financially. this very respect for her is what i think would drive him to isolate himself from her after the shooting– as i said above, he's a murderer now. a disappointing human being in general, and an even worse son. to let down his mother who worked so hard to raise him right... how could he? as his condition worsens and his heart grows colder, i'm sure that feeling would fester inside of him. he'd try to ignore it, as he does with everything else, but it's already wrapped its tendrils around his soul. that particular guilt isn't leaving him any time soon.

now that i'm thinking about it, also, i don't think it's likely that he'd quit his job right right away. it'd be more of a slow descent over the span of a few weeks. immediately after the shooting, he may stop showing up to work for a while. he just can't put on that uniform when it's practically caked in the blood of someone he held in such high esteem for so long. eventually, though, he gets a hold on himself– just a bit. he doesn't want to be cooped up in his apartment with his thoughts anymore, and he doesn't want to lose his job. what else would he do?

so, he takes it easy on the first few days back. megumi tries to make it easy for him. paperwork, whatever job he could do that's not on the field. he clings to her like a wounded puppy, hoping that she'll explain why she's covering it up when he doesn't want her to, what he's supposed to do with these feelings around the incident. he's drowning, and she's made herself a big sister figure to him– she's supposed to help him. but, she shrugs him off when he brings it up. she's so harsh about it compared to how she usually speaks to him. perhaps because of her own guilt around the incident, perhaps it's the family's response and how keiji is now, how panicked and sleep deprived the poor kid has looked since that day.

so he continues to spiral with nothing to hold on to. grasps at alcohol in a futile attempt to stop falling, because it's all he can think to fall back on. he's a wreck at work– he's barely living, much less working. but megumi tries her best to keep him from getting fired. she'll get him coffee and breakfast and try to say something encouraging. "hey. hang in there, shinogi." with a touch on the shoulder. but in spite of her efforts, of course, it hits a breaking point. everyone in the job thinks keiji's too damaged to continue, saying he either needs to see a shrink or get the hell out of the way and let everyone else do their job.

and keiji just stops coming into work one day.

the downward spiral ensues.

| hey m.v.p. | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: fluff

a/n: okay. this is not the first that i’ve written a scenario based on basketball, so i hope this can maybe(?) make your hearts giddy again? also! it’s really not proof read nor well written but please do enjoy reading! hehehe 🥰 ~j.

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the continuous, long, ringing sound of the impact from the bouncing amber colored ball boasted its decibels at the outdoor mini court.

today was another date with your boyfriend; a varsity basketball player of the university. unlike most couples, girls would wait for their darlings to finish a game. for you however, would join him for a one-on-one match. serious or not he’d always let you play; not because he would go easy on you, but because you knew how to take on his challenge.

jaehyun called a timeout, noticing how heavy you exhaled and your lungs struggled to catch breath. he tossed you a bottle and you gladly took it to quench yourself. he watched you standing at the center of the mid-court, the sun’s rays acting like your glowing background, defining beauty and a heaven-sent figure he was blessed to have.

feeling squirmy and shy around you was something he couldn’t resist to feel out in the public. he was affectionate with skinship and you didn’t mind that at all.

“baby!” you jogged towards your boyfriend, helping him wipe the rolling beads of sweat by his temples and forehead. “teach me how to nail a through-the-leg shot.”

“why?” he interlocked his fingers behind you so you wouldn’t escape.

he copied and mimicked your whines because it was the nth time you have asked him, and he always refused to teach you. “but every time i do it i miss a shot-” your words close to inaudible but jaehyun understood what you meant and he pressed his lips. “-or i end up falling.” you shrugged.

“y/n. your form’s okay. it’s just your jump landing and timing.” he pinched your cheeks lightly. “i wanna teach you but i don’t want my baby to get hurt, so no.”

you took the towel that was placed on his head as he took the ball, feeling bummed that this time yet again he wouldn’t teach you. he gestured you to go to him and you obliged no matter how salty you slightly felt towards him.

a short break was enough for you both to continue with the sport. with all the small matches you’ve played against him, there was one thing you’ve always known: jaehyun was very competitive, so whatever ball game or any game you both played, he was always, always going to play it better. you loved how concentrated his eyes were, the tiny smirk when you were open, the deepening of his dimples once the ball went in the hoop, and the victorious stretch of his arms as he celebrated.

he dribbled the ball and you tried to steal it away from him, but given your smaller frame with his, he probably held himself back and went a little lenient to you. “there’s a game that mark taught me. it’s called h.o.r.s.e. we played it for at least thirty minutes. wanna give it a shot?” he stopped moving and spun the ball on his pointer finger.

“okay!” you cheered, making him smile wider at the willingness you showed. “how does it go?”

“i’ll do a move and you follow what i do, but you’ll gain a letter if you failed to shoot. the game ends when either of us reaches ‘e’.” he tossed the ball to you. “i’ll let you start.”

“hold on, i feel hot.” you dropped the ball to hold in between your feet, and removed the thin layer of jacket sticking to your skin. you wore a loose white crop top over the new sports bra you bought and grey sweatpants.

jaehyun averted his gaze although he blushed unnecessarily at your carefree action. he cleared his throat from thinking of unnecessary thoughts entering his brain. he tossed you the ball again and the game started with you doing a simple free throw; followed by his layups and double clutch. the punishment were always the same; buy food for the other. this time you didn’t want to lose and made sure you make the shot while he misses.

he began to smirk, something he’d usually do to signal you. the battle was on. there was no way he would lose this, so he went for a move that he knew you wouldn’t do. you guessed it, the through-the-leg shot. however he groaned right after he realised what he had done, and was too late when you got the ball in your palms.

you attempted the move and just when you thought you had it, the ball missed the ring and fell— so was the view before your eyes, you were falling too. the good thing was you managed to get on your toes, but collapsing on your knees afterwards.

“aww, that’s an ‘e’ for me.” you hissed and laid down on the ground, defeated again.

“it’s okay.” he helped you up and hugged, but you immediately pulled yourself away from him.

“tsk, you’re sticky.” you ran towards the bench, to no avail he picked you up and turned you non-stop. “put me down jae.”

jaehyun loved spoiling you the way he could get his chance upon, that included almost every little thing you did— from the pursed lips when you were feeling embarrassed to your breaking smile that sent his heart flying everywhere. however, he wasn’t the only one you sent his heart flying and bursting in the sky.

it was a given that in the campus, you weren’t part of the ‘visual spectrum’ the students have created, but it was your beautiful soul and kind-hearted personality that attracted them to you. and jaehyun was pulled to you like a magnet once his friends continuously nudged each other that one time at the locker hall. since then he was one of those secret admirers who skilfully and secretly left you letters after class, a carton of juice or milk in your bag, and offered you an umbrella on rainy days.

you didn’t like the attention, in all honesty you weren’t even craving for some. there were worries whether if you had done something wrong that caused them to talk about you all the time despite being a transfer student of the creative media department. so that one day when your friend invited you to watch a basketball match, it was when you saw jaehyun for the first time.

the team noticed your existence at one area of the blenchers. imagine the impact they gave when they all stared at you like meerkats and yet smiled like adorable quokkas. one certain quokka however got your attention, well not because he had dimples, but because he was hit in the face with a basketball.

let us all say you became friends and he invited you to be in his group project. great chemistry and ideals for each other. what made jaehyun fall for you even more was that, you played basketball, just like him.

the memory of that time was interrupted with jaehyun leaving you at the bench, off to somewhere the heavens knew where. as you waited, your eyes led to the ball, tempting you to try out the skill you’ve always failed at. this is the chance, you thought. dribbling the ball several times, your attempts to try it failed miserably again.

you stood right at the arc of the lines beneath your shoes. determination fired your eyes and felt like goku from the dragon ball animation. the repetitive sentence echoed your ears, telling yourself ‘you could do it’. however that was stopped when players you’ve never seen before circled around you, almost hovering your small frame.

“hey, mind if we.. teach you?” they offered, but their intentions were very transparent. and you should’ve worn your jacket.

“no thanks. i pretty much can handle it myself.” you picked the ball up and went back to the bench, only to be stopped halfway when one of them grabbed your wrists. “let go.”

a smug look on their faces had you stepping backwards. “little miss killjoy, we’re offering you help-”

“she’s already gotten help.” jaehyun soon came behind you and your back hit his chest.

“who the heck are you?” they asked as if putting up a front would scare him.

“i’m her boyfriend and i’d appreciate it if you lot stop staring at her like that.” he let you sit on the bench once they scurried off, placing his towel on your head that was large enough to reach your lap. “from now on you’re wearing my my jacket and don’t take it off.”

you gulped when he stared into your eyes, full of worry and as if he sent protective shields to wrap around you. “the weather’s getting hot jae, and do you want me to die out of so much heat?”

“it’s better than getting your skin so exposed like earlier. you know you attract guys in the way i can’t tolerate.”

ah this argument again. more fingers and toes were needed to count because this wasn’t the first time jaehyun has been protective of you; although you couldn’t really blame him as to the whole campus— maybe to the majority of your admirers, he did win your heart. it wasn’t that you hated that side of him, you couldn’t bring it up to tell him that it limits you to be free.

a sigh was heard from your lips, catching his attention and he knelt down to see you properly. “but i’m not hiding anything!” you whined, removing the towel and jacket all at the same time, jaehyun startled at your childish response.

he arched his brows like he had something up in his sleeves. “really? you’re not hiding anything?” his palms reached for the ends of your sweatpants. he pulled and rolled them up until the fabric reached your thighs.

“what are you- look jae i swear i’m not hiding-” you then hissed at the pain soon as the wind hit your wounded, scarred knees.

“well?” he asked, tearing off the plaster packaging with his teeth and cleaned the wounds on both. “you’re not good at hiding something like this though.”

a spread of heat and embarrassment crawled your cheeks. “how did you know?”

jaehyun let out a soft chuckle. “you’re easy to read, honey.” he planted a kiss on your forehead and sat beside you. “you should’ve told me you’re in pain- why are you staring at me like that?”

he saw how your eyes widened and they asked for a quick stare contest. he was definitely lured into you, and that wasn’t new to him. “what?” he questioned again.

“ugh no good. i can’t read you at all.” you defeatedly laid on the bags. “i was confused why you left so suddenly. i thought you felt guilty because i lost the game and that you bought us snacks. i didn’t know you went all the way to tend me.”

“at the beginning of our relationship i told you i’ll treat you like a princess.” he pulled you close to him. “so let me treat you like one.”

“i’m no damsel in distress.” you rolled your eyes, a faint smile curving by the corners of your lips.

“uh clearly you were? i saved your butt from those guys.”

“and you saved me again with this.” you pointed at the carefully-plastered knees of yours and nudged him. “m.v.p.”

jaehyun felt you kiss his cheek, stunned with the title you named him. “i call you all cute nicknames and that’s all i’m gonna get? and you know i’m already the m.v.p.” his bummed voice caused you to giggle.

“not in basketball.” you reasoned.

“you expect me to play ‘guess the word’ now? because y/n, i’m not in the mood for-”

“you’re my valiant prince. m. v. p.”

jaehyun now laid on your lap, covering his ears at sudden nickname; obviously was awestruck and have never blushed so hard in his entire life.

Wasteland, baby

‘Draco! Draco…’ Where are you? The last words are swallowed in Harry’s throat as the clouds of smoke and debris force a burning trail to the base of his lungs. A violent cough forces tears to further blur his already distorted vision as Harry stumbles down the street littered with bricks, glass and other detritus from the burning buildings around him. The sour smell of dark magic intertwines with fire and blood.

Screams from the wounded are quickly drowned out as another explosion rocks the ground beneath him and the once-beautifully-marbled exterior of Gringotts rains down on the snow-covered street below. Loud cracks of apparition sound throughout the alleyways as witches and wizards quickly abandon their livelihoods in exchange for their lives. A constant ringing in his ears makes Harry’s balance waiver and a searing pain pulses deep in his left shoulder. He reaches up to wipe his face and his soot-covered hand comes away covered in blood; whether his or someone else’s, he can’t be sure.

‘Draco...’ he manages only a whisper as he sweeps the alley to his right, heart aching desperately for a head of blonde hair. He doesn’t have time to think of how or why or what is happening; his focus narrows to the sole pursuit of the snarky git who is all harsh lines and sharp wit but somehow also soft kisses and gentle touches.

He just had to pop into a shop he said, Harry should go get them a table for coffee. Harry had refused to relinquish his gloved hand without a proper goodbye, and Draco had rolled his eyes as he acquiesced in a mock reluctance. Draco’s lips were chapped from the cold but his tongue had tasted of mint and chocolate as Harry tangled his fingers in his scarf and trailed his other hand into Draco’s back pocket.

‘Merlin’s tits, Potter, not here!’ But Draco’s eyes were bright as he nipped at Harry’s bottom lip, released his hand and turned towards Flourish and Blotts. ‘Americano, black,’ he’d called over his shoulder, as if Harry didn’t already know what he wanted.

That had been ten minutes ago. Now, Flourish and Blotts collapses on itself, a pile of brick and books and dust and Harry thinks he knows how it feels. The delicate snow intermingles with the clouds of smoke, leaving a thick haze over the entire alley. It dampens his footsteps as he tramples over scattered stone and steps through the nearly non-existent storefront to the further devastation within.

The staircase that had elegantly climbed the walls now gracelessly bestrews the floor. Shelves that once stood as neatly organized guardians of the perimeter are defeated piles of splintered wood and paper. The noise and madness from the alley is dampened as Harry makes his way further into the store, each step heavier than the last.

Like a lighthouse in a storm, a familiar ethereal crow sweeps down from a hole in the roof of the store, landing on a burning desk just to Harry’s right. It looks a bit strange, Harry thinks, ensconced in flame. The familiar posh voice that spills from its beak immediately lightens the crushing pressure in his chest.

Harry forces open a door to emerge onto Eyelops’ roof and find his snarky git leaning against the brick overlooking the alley below. Soot colors his hair more grey than blonde, his scarf is tattered and his tailored pants are burnt around the right ankle, but he is standing. Draco turns to look over his shoulder, revealing a trickle of blood that trails from a wound on his forehead.

The air hangs heavy only for a moment before Harry is hungrily gripping at Draco’s waist and Draco is threading his fingers through Harry’s wild curls. ‘This is even more of a mess than usual,’ Draco teases as he tugs lightly at the roots so he can place a gentle kiss on Harry’s neck, then his jawline before finally meeting him for a brief but desperate crushing of lips and teeth and tongue.

Harry threads his arm around Draco’s waist, hand finding that same back pocket. They lean into each other as they both look out at the familiar and strange snow- and soot-covered wasteland before them. The sun sets behind the haze, casting a burnt orange glow that mixes with the greenish hue of the hovering Dark Mark. ‘They can’t have you this time. I won’t let them,’ Harry whispers, because he feels he needs to say something.

Draco rests his head atop Harry’s and takes in a deep breath of the burnt, sour air. Harry feels Draco’s weight sink into him as he exhales and responds, ‘I’d like to see them try, love.’

Also on AO3.

Magical Skills: Prior to their death, Lua had a certain amount of… overconfidence. Everything they did came easily, and if it didn’t – they didn’t spend time on it. This meant that while they were (and are) quite gifted in many arenas, they didn’t necessarily hone their skills into something masterful. Death, both tempering their courage and heightening their focus, seems to have caused them to settle more on what they are best at. Lua excels primarily at two things – shape-shifting themselves (a skill they have had throughout their life), and imbuing mechanical objects with spells and other cleverness (something they have been interested in a long time, but that they are more recent at trying to perfect). They also have a natural affinity for the ocean. In contrast to canon, even before they have their memory back, Lua does not refer to themselves as Asra’s apprentice (their memory may be dodgy but it’s still a weird power imbalance. Aleis is the same.)

Shape-Shifting: After their skills fully return and develop following their reincarnation (sometime after the main events of the story), Lua is able to take on the shape of just about anything. They are capable of taking on any animal form, appear as other individuals, make themselves appear as inanimate objects, and so on. In the form of animals, they have all of their natural skills and abilities – flight, speed, gills, etc. and are able to use them to their full extent. The upper and lower limits of their size seemed to be determined by life living on the planet (as their upper limit seems to be about that of a blue whale, and lower limit being about a bacteria). In order to facilitate this change, their mass is either borrowed or lent to some arcane realm, specifically designed for this physical change. Lua finds shape-shifting innate and easy, so the exact mechanisms of this are not totally clear, but they are always attempting to better understand them. It does seem that changes in excess of approximately 200lbs are quite taxing physically and magically (and can only be maintained a short while – and usually require significant time to recover from). Unlike Aelis, they are unable to split their consciousness into multiple forms or become semi or fully incorporeal. They also tend to fully shift into things (even if it’s something fantastic) rather than just giving themselves piecemeal aspects (although they can, they find it easier to just go all-out – there are some exceptions to this). Lua also uses their shape shifting to better understand various animals, their biology, environment, and how the world around them works. Despite Lua’s overthinking (perhaps because of that awareness) they always have a clear sense of their own self which assures they are not lost in shape-shifting. They are able to return to their comfortable human form no matter what shape they take, as they are confident in their own body in this regard.

Other Shape-Shifting Ephemera:

- Lua’s shifts are very quick, generally less than a second. There’s body horror and uncanny valley stuff in there but it’s usually too quick for the human eye to catch. Usually. Lua can deliberately slow the process if desired but it may prove uncomfortable.

- Allowing themselves to breathe underwater is so innate to them they don’t even slightly think about it anymore.

- They use shape shifting to keep from getting drunk if they don’t want to (this requires conscious effort and they don’t always do it in a timely manner). They can use it to other metabolic effect as well.

- They can embrace the abilities and instincts of other creatures without loosing their own mind. (This would be much harder if not.)

- They don’t necessarily tend to have a ‘set’ form of any given animal – they can be whatever they’d like. They tend to be a specific species example when animal shaped (being, for example, Epicrates cenchria the ‘rainbow boa’ rather than just ‘a snake’ or ‘a boa’), and if they’re not feeling obtuse or deliberately trying to blend in they’ll be a color morph that feels recognizable as them (earthy toned or blue-black furred with some white flecks, medium/large sized, somewhat lank, gold eyes, etc.)

- They have a rather encyclopedic knowledge of animals, furthered by curiosity, travel, and study.

- They are not particularly able to use shape-shifing to heal themselves – they can use it to prevent injury in the first place if they can catch or react to something in the first place (shifting around blunt force or strengthening the area where the blow might be) – but the amount of energy needed to use this ability to rapidly heal makes it a moot point. Wounds shift with shifting, scaling appropriately. More injury makes it harder to shift (owing to pain and exhaustion).

- Getting sick is similar – if they catch a cold early enough they might be able to forestall it by running it through a different immune system, but if they’re in the midst of the flu they can’t really shift much anyway, it’s too taxing and hard with a gooey head.

- They generally can’t take their clothes with them, needing to remove them so they’re not damaged if they’re going to get a lot larger. (There’s an internal pocket based workaround but they can do but don’t like to use it as it’s distracting). There’s probably a way to shunt clothes off to another arcane realm and summon them back in a tidy fashion but they’ve not yet figured that out.

- They can mimic clothes and other trappings with their own body but it takes focus. It also leaves them vulnerable to cold and sun. This is great for espionage, party tricks, and not much else.

- They tend to keep their earrings in in casual situations if it works with the form (short of it being too small it usually does).

- They don’t shape-shift in their sleep, which would be on par with very dramatic cases of somnambulism. They might have little rivulets of color, fur, feathers, scales, etc. move across parts of their skin now and again if they’re having a really dramatically weird dream (much more akin to sleep-talking).

- Their shape-shifting is kindof ‘sticky’, if they fall asleep as something they’ll tend to stay that way until they wake up and consciously change back (although another magician could force them out of it, depending on the situation).

As mentioned – their mass relates to an arcane/magical relationship. This is the same for their ‘library’ of forms. Lua is well traveled and very knowledgeable, but they are still able to shape shift into animals (and other things) they are not immediately familiar with (with enough description or information) by accessing through an internal, magical connection, an inter-dimensional arcane library of information. This is, again, not well understood and comes naturally to them – but relates to how they (and Aleis, and other shifters) are able to take on various forms without breaking themselves or reality. This is not a ‘curated’ or human-created thing – more of a 4th dimensional log of information that is accessed through magical means at blisteringly fast speed. Lua’s ability to access and reference this information is so internalized they themselves would not be able to explain it well (it would likely take some magical scholar who understands very high end physics).

Artifacts: Lua has a mind for clockwork and other mechanical contrivances and skill at imbuing these with spells and other magical effects. The work they produce stands on its own as fully functioning once it’s complete, and has fascinating abilities because of it’s magical nature. If one were to consider Lua in the modern era – they would be respected as some sort of robotics engineer. As it is, they create work which tends to be beautiful, esoteric, and serve some sort of strange function. Lua’s primary income stream is from private commissions on this work – it is complex and time consuming to produce and their rates are high (Nadia is a repeat customer these days). The practical work they produce include things like astrolabes that can project an entire moving star map, lockpicks that reveal what is happening inside the lock, automota which can serve as two-way communication devices, and so on. The more artistic work they produce can be more delightfully frivolous – a hand organ that that plays in colors, jewelry that can turn into a little creature and run around, music boxes that change their melody based on mood, and on. Combining their skills with their spouse’s skills with miniatures has made for some decidedly fascinating and weird results. Because of all of this – Lua is an impeccable draftsman, and is generally seen with a shoulder bag full of drawings and drawing equipment (they do not usually bring their pieces to work on when traveling/visiting unless they know they will have a works space where they set things up and leave them undisturbed, however they will gladly plan out future projects and refine ideas wherever they can set down a piece of paper – and draw silly or entertaining things at times).

Lua is also adept at repairing non-magical clocks, music boxes, and other automata only using magic as a means to assist (rather than permanently repair) the object (such as magnification, steadying their hand, creating light, etc.) They tend to take on fewer of these projects as they prefer to imbue or work with items which are magical in nature. They are not an all-purpose expert (as some automata, even non-magical, are incredibly involved), but they can certainly get a pocket watch going again with no trouble.

Their work never really mimics modern technology – these are esoteric, magical items, not ‘fantasy cell phones.’ They do sometimes demonstrate what may seem like anachronisms (precise knowledge of astronomy, chemistry, physics, etc.) but these are things based on Lua’s studies, travels, and personal experience and a dash of magic.

Combat Magic: Weapon-wise, when pushed, Lua favors what is functionally a compound bow, which is more sympathetic to their magic than a recurve, when dealing with long-distance armed combat or hunting. (This is highly anachronistic but so is the piano that Nadia plays.) Lua is not adept at hand-to-hand combat (they are not particularly trained at this apart from very basic blocks and holds from Aelis) and they prefer to use their shape-shifting to fight. They are incredibly clever and dangerous when it comes to fighting this way, able to shift quickly, and utilize the abilities of various creatures to their advantage (speed, strength, armor, venom, etc). A shape-shifter battle is very exciting to watch. They have a similar approach to hunting, as for them much easier to be a predatory fish or bird than hook up a line and reel (though they don’t care to eat their catch raw unless it is particularly delicious to the human palate).

Divination: Lua is passable at divination, but doesn't generally like to do it. They rather fundamentally object to asking others what is ahead of them (as they prefer to take charge of themselves), and when it comes to reading for others their heart generally isn’t in it. They don’t object to the arcana themselves – they find them fascinating and an incredible resource, but so far as Lua is concerned they have better things to do with their time than deal with fussy mortals. Aleis and Lua have turned to it as an income stream in tough times, but it only has made Lua more resentful of it – that’s Asra’s business (they don’t really mind him doing it, he has a much better personality for it, both for chatting with the arcana and for dealing with customers). Aleis excels more at the ‘headology’ part of divination – giving people what they want to hear to feel better than Lua does, but Lua isn’t bad at it when pushed. Lua prefers wood/bone burning rather than tarot reading.

Other Magic: Lua and Aleis are still powerful magical generalists, and while mastery takes time and effort, basic functions tend to come easily. Still, magic that is sympathetic to their personality is the easiest to work with, and Lua tends to take to conjuration, summoning, and other ‘creation’ magic (whether it’s elemental lore, otherworldly entities, or simply starting a fire). If there are written instructions or known spells Lua can usually parse through them pretty quickly for at least passable results (not masterful or clever or elegant ones mind you – just workable). Antithetical to Lua’s nature is magic that involves control of other people - illusions, manipulation, teleportation, and similar effects are very difficult for them to get their head around. The same goes for magic meant to control or manipulate natural phenomena. This is why it takes Aleis’ help for them to help shape-shift other people. Fortunately Aleis and Lua’s magic compliments each other nicely, and where Lua struggles Aleis thrives and vice versa. Together their magic is incredibly strong and they are used to letting the flow of raw magic power go between each other to compliment their work.

Familiar: Lua is extremely obtuse when the matter is mentioned. Most people are not sure if they do or do not have one (in fact Julian and Lucio have an ongoing game of trying to figure out what it might be and bringing various animals to Lua to see if they ‘stick’ or ‘click’. Fortunately Lua likes animals. When it doesn’t work they get them off to wherever they belong – the sanctuary, a farm, back home, etc).

Retreat: Like Asra and Aleis, Lua has their own retreat. Their cozy log cabin is on a rather lush, generally uninhabited, crescent-shaped island off the cost of a northern rain forest, full of tall pine trees, sandy beaches, rocky outcroppings, and dramatic winter storms. They built this prior to their death, and have been happy to return to it – giving them peace away from other people (although they occasionally bring friends with them, the rule for all the magician’s retreats is that unless you are invited you should not show up unexpectedly). With a small footprint, their cabin is the only indication of habitation on the island. It has enough room for a bed, work table, fireplace, small kitchen, and a detached Japanese-style bath Lua has set up with magically running hot water. While there is suitable game on the island (and certainly a bounty in the sea) Lua generally prefers to stock up their larder with groceries whenever they visit.

Gate: Lua and Aleis share their magical gate. It is a beautiful but lonely, rocky island in a storm-tossed sea. It’s high basalt cliffs protect an inner forest sanctuary, who’s lakes and streams, bubbling up from deep underground, flow out through underground caverns and give secret access to and from the sea. There are creatures in the woods, some familiar and many not, they watch strangers with attentive glowing eyes. Despite the apparently small size of the island, it seems as though the woods go on without limit, unless they want to allow you to access the steep rock and precarious climbs of the protective rocky coast, or onward to wherever it is you are going.