#('i can name countless plant life but i do not know how to handle my cramping wing without just feeling like clawing uselessly at it')

[godzexperiment]

okay but if he's got that Boosted Healing *tm* (has its limits for sure/bit wacky given his history) it's only safe to assume has strange issues- like with his temperature regulation failure...

-genuinely vibrates from strong emotions/exhaustion *multiple things, good luck guessing and he doesn't know most the time either*

-his perpetual signs of Exhaustion, the horrors that are evident in his bloodshot eyes etc

-migraine prone, even if he's gotten pretty adjusted to various types of lighting,etc light makes eyes and head go into cacophony

-situations of i don't know enough about my own physiology to determine if stabbing pains in my wings from crying is normal, or just unique to my brand of messed up cause for concern? i'm just going to pretend ignorance of the pains till i die or recover

-strong pain tolerance+threshold and all that but when he gets an cold is like very much quite literally half dead as his body just goes fucky uppy *fact he even can catch the cold is like fucked up cosmic bad luck typically*

#<< falling apart at the seams i cant deny >> headcanons #(im on an hc yeeting onto the blog mood) #(also the fact nix doesnt know how to handle his wings? just assumes he either is meant to trial error it or just got the middle finger) #(babey boy frequently doing dumb shit+testing their limits but doesnt know what to do if sprains an wing etc) #(and unless he happens upon an sibling- or knows one when that stuff happens he's just miserable as fuck) #('i can name countless plant life but i do not know how to handle my cramping wing without just feeling like clawing uselessly at it')

[plethoraworldatlas]

My writing has forever been affected by just the sheer disappointment I had about how the MCU handled something so universally transformative as the Snap (down to giving it the Canon name Blip. Haha, billions died). I was already like this, but that made it so much more prevalent in my writing.

What do you MEAN it included all "overpopulated animals and plants" too? Entire governments and even nations stopped existing?? Mass global migrations??

Spiderman really treated it like a joke, but honestly it handled it the best of all out of the least MCU things I saw.

Falcon and the Winter Soldier was the worst about it. (And the worst in general but not gonna talk about it). The Global Repatriation Council is apparently a superpowerful international organization that can call upon militaries and intelligence agencies worldwide, yet its led exclusively by sitting US Senators, who are casually debating in favor of sudden mass deportations via the US Army numbering in the hundreds of millions at least to who knows where, if their countries even still exist.

Falcon's inspiring Captain America speech is basically telling a fascist that "you need to do better", as opposed to even mentioning the infinite logistical and humanitarian concerns (falcon's speech isn't even good as a thinly veiled allegory because its argument all hinges on the Snap).

The Snap canonically happened in 2018; The Wolrd population at the time was 7.66 billion. Half would be 3.83 billion instantly gone, countless governments probably collapsed in under a month, meaning even more people end up migrating or Refugees or nopat. The most generous I'll be is estimating that ONLY a billion people end up migrating; In all actuality, I'd bet it would be closer to about half of all non-Snapped people, so almost 2 Billion.

Even under the best circumstances, under the most forgiving immigration systems, 5 years is enough time to build or rebuild an entirely new life in a new country, or like many are implied to have done in Fatws, forgo being a citizen of any one nation altogether and enjoy the new borderless world, but not enough time to officially legally become a citizen in your new country. This isn't even mentioning all the already existing Refugees and Migrants who most likely would also be on the billion person deportation lists, or all the people who just don't "look legal" and are unfortunate enough to not have all their legal documents ready for constant investigation. This is all being supposedly done for the benefit of those who came back from the Snap, but Far From Home literally starts off showing us that no government cares about the returned and they have to survive off of philanthropy.

Fatws shows us that those Migrants and nopat alike are being forced into slums and camps pending deportation, and they are cut off from any source of income AND are being denied necessities which are being held up by the GRC warehouses in an attempt to push them to agree to deportation. This is happening worldwide, while we see it happening apparently in EU countries, who have free travel between each other, lightly implying that the GRC position is HARD NATIONALIST BORDERS WORLDWIDE, and the end of the right to travel and immigrate, even within organizations like the EU, if they would even still exist under such laws. This is never elaborated on in Fatws.

Hydra the fascist secret organization still has major influential power in at least the US, probably throughout the rest of the west. They are still regularly using assassination, intimidation, and various forms of corruption to influence things to their favor. High odds on at least one major GRC official, maybe even one of the Senator's inexplicably in charge of the thing, could be a Hydra plant. Fatws never elaborates on this.

The Snap would have permanent world changing repercussions, yet it's treated the same as the events of Thor the Dark World (which would also be world changing, despite being easily memeified by fans. Hell, Dark World and two other big movies take place within a single week, each one having world shattering complications and implied thousands of causalities at least) are treated by the MCU. And the Snap is a universal event, possibly even a multi-versal one.

#mcu

[sad-brunnettee]

Knight in shining armor

knight! Zoro x princess!reader

Modern AU

Warnings: death, blood, kidnapping

Word count: 5,403

—

Being born into royalty didn’t give you the privilege many people thought. It’s true you could have anything your little heart desires but it’s never enough. You’ve always wanted to experience life like any other human being.

You wanted to know what it was like to laugh until your lungs hurt, speak your mind, fall and get back up, get bruises and cuts from experiencing the world. Yet your parents worried about their precious youngest daughter. They believed you should never experience the bad things life had to offer. A hard decision that was made after the death of your older sister, Charlotte. You were merely a few months old when she was kidnapped by some villagers. They knew how much the king and queen loved their kids and knew they will get countless of berries in return for the safety of their daughter.

Unfortunately, they beat her up pretty badly and without thinking- they killed her. They disappeared without a trace and since then, you and your family never got justice. Yet, they still hold on to the hope that even after all these years, they will find the culprits.

Your three older brothers are also being hidden away from the world but unlike you, they have more freedom. Your parents say it’s because they’re older than you and if anything were to happen to them. They’d have a way to defend themselves, which was true and you had no doubt about it. The dresses you wear are too big and it’s hard to run with them and you are also a klutz, there’s no way for you to hold a weapon without dropping it or hurting yourself.

Nonetheless, your brothers always brought you small things whenever they went over to the village. You have gathered a small collection in your room of all the things they’ve given you over the years. From small rocks and shells they got when they visited that beach, books they bought and pictures they’ve taken of the buildings and people.

They had also brought you some seeds for you to plant. Although, they never tell you what they’ll will grow into. It’s all part of their plan to see your surprised face when you find out you’re growing either flowers, vegetables or fruit. Whenever it is food, you always give them to the cooks. Hoping it will help them with the dishes they are preparing. Which they gladly take and make accommodations with what you provided.

You were on your way to water your plants when you older brother called your name from the other end of the corridor.

“Y/n, James, David and I are going out to the village. Do you want us to bring you back something in particular?” Vincent, your older brother spoke as he walked towards you.

“Could you maybe check if there are any new books about romance? I really liked the last one that David picked out.” You spoke as you fiddled with the handle of the metal watering can.

Giving you a dramatic sigh he looked to the side before answering “I mean if that’s what you want, I guess I won’t mind walking around with a romance book sticking out of my hand.”

You let out a giggle “thanks, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Giving your hair a playful ruffle he walked away shortly after that. Even if their gifts made you happy you still longed for that feeling and wished you were the one going out instead of them. As you stood there softly tapping the watering can, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of loneliness. While your brothers were out exploring and your parents were taking care of the kingdom. You didn’t have much to do or better yet, nobody to talk to.

As of now, your only hope for one day getting out here would come true when you got married. Even then, there’s a high chance that you’ll continue with the same loop. You wouldn’t want to keep living this way, or have your future children living in fear.

Just before you stepped out to your little garden, the voice of a guard called for you. As you looked up, you had to put a strand hair behind your ear in order to see.

“Miss y/n, I’ve been looking all over for you. Your father and mother will like to have a word with you.” William was in his early 40s and has been working for your family for many years and you treat him with respect. Everything saw him as part of the family which is why he is always present in any family events you have.

Without waiting for a response from you, he grabbed your your arm and dragged you to their office. The walk wasn’t long but it was hard for your short legs to keep up with his smiling strides. Unlike him, your dress prevented you from walking fast and you were lying if you said you weren’t starting to breath heavily.

As the two of you reached the doors that led to your parents office, William gave you a quick look to make sure you were presentable. It was then that he noticed your little watering can.

“Miss y/n, you wouldn’t want to greet your parents while holding onto such thing.” He spoke as he took it away from you before you could even comprehend what he said.

“But William, I need it to water my plants.” You spoke almost desperately, trying to get him to give it back to you.

“Nonsense, you have us to do that for you.” William was always stern and it was hard for him to understand some things.

“But I want to-“ you started to speak before he interrupted you as he saw Maggie walking by.

“Miss Maggie, will you be so kind as to water miss y/n’s plants?” He handed her the watering can that you have gotten attached to as if it was a stuff animal.

Once he gave it to her she left without saying a word. As William cleared his throat you turned your body to face to door. Once he made sure you were ready, he opened both doors allowing you enough space to enter.

“King Eric and Queen Isabell your daughter, y/n, is here.” William spoke as he closed the doors and stood to the side.

“Thank you William, y/n, take a seat.” Your father spoke as he also took a seat on the other side of the wide brown desk that was separating you from them. Your mother was watching you tentatively, she was always afraid of seeing some cuts or bruises on you.

“Y/n, we have some news for you. I hope it will make you happy.” Your father spoke while setting down his reading glasses. As you heard this you couldn’t help but bounce your leg in nervousness. You crossed your fingers hoping they will say the words you’ve been dying to hear for years.

“Your father and I were talking and well… we got in contact with some people. We told them about our situation…” your mother started speaking but you couldn’t help to notice how nervous she was.

“They will send out a knight that qualifies and he will get to watch after you… outside of the kingdom.” Your father finished speaking for you mother.

You weren’t sure if you heard correctly. “Wh-what?”

“His name is Roronoa Zoro and he will be with you at all times to keep you safe. Allowing you to go out to village and see things on your own.” Your father gave you the information while holding up his face with his fists.

As the information dawned down on you, a smile started to form on your face and you let out a scream as you stood up. You ran towards your parents and gave them a hug. Even if they were worried about your well-being, your happiness was contagious and they couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. This might be the first time in years that you ever got so excited, not even when your brothers brought you back things did you get this happy.

“When do I meet him?” You asked as you took a step back from them.

“He will arrive tonight at 6pm sharp, be ready by then. We will greet him by the entrance hall and from there we will give him a tour.” You father once again put on his reading glasses and spoke as he shuffled through papers and signing some.

“Thank you, I’ll go ahead and get ready.” You said as you walked out of the room.

You were in your room surrounded by ladies-in-waiting who are helping you choose the best dress for tonight. You stood in front of the mirror that was wide enough for you to see yourself with no problem as well as your surroundings. You’re not sure how many dresses you have tried on but you were exhausted. Your feet were aching and so was your back, all you wanted was to sit down and drink something.

After what felt like ages, you had the perfect dress. It was star brown with off the shoulder puffy long sleeves and it reached the floor. Yet it allowed you to move your feet freely with no worry of stepping on it. You wore matching high heels that couldn’t be seen. Your hair was placed in a simple bun with side braids, all that was left to place on you was your crown.

Just as they had placed it on your head, a knock was heard. As you stood in front of the mirror admiring yourself with a smile, one of the ladies-in-waiting opened the door. As she did, your three older brothers walked in looking perplexed.

“What’s the occasion?” David asked as he stood near you with his hands in his pocket. Vincent and James stood near him wondering the same thing.

You couldn’t help but give them a big smile “a knight will be visiting us today, mom and dad have asked for his service to keep me safe. I’ll be allowed to go out to the village now.”

Your three brothers looked at you as if you had just told them the worst news they’ve ever heard. It wasn’t that they weren’t happy for you, they were just sad to hear your parents trust a complete stranger to take care of their baby sister. Rather than having them protect you, James was younger than the other two. He could see how happy this made you.

“At what time will he be here?” James asked

“At 6pm sharp, we will greet him by the hall entrance and then he will get a tour.” You said as you took a step down from the small step you stood on.

—

“Could you believe the nerve of our parents? What made them think they could trust a complete stranger to take care of our sister?” Vincent spoke as they headed to their own rooms to get dressed.

“We could totally take care of her on our own.” David spoke in agreement while taking angry strides. He said it with so much confidence that it almost made Vincent laugh as he remembered the time he was playing hide ‘n seek with you. He completely forgot about it that by the time he remembered he was playing with you it was nighttime and you had fallen asleep under your bed.

James was debating on whether to say something or not. As he was the youngest of the other two boys, sometimes the teasing went a bit too far with him. Ultimately, he decided on biting his tongue and not say anything.

As the three got to their rooms each one of them kept on worrying for your safety as they got dressed. They just hope the knight will be able to keep you safe. Not just that but they also hope you will feel comfortable. You haven’t spoken with many people outside of the castle, there’s a possibility you will have a hard time communicating with him.

—

It was now five minutes before six yet here you stood near the staircase of the entrance hall. Alongside your parents and brothers waiting for the arrival of Roronoa. You were nervous about what kind of person he will be. Even more nervous about how you will act. He will be the first guy you see and coexist with that isn’t part of your family or workers.

You glanced over to where your brothers stood and they all had the same expression on their face. It seemed as if they were annoyed, you weren’t sure about what but it made you feel rather awkward. While you waited you decided to start a conversation with them.

“Thanks for the book Vince, I’m really liking it so far.” You said as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress.

His shoulders visibly seemed to had relaxed as he heard your voice. “Glad to hear that y/n/n.” Finally turning towards you he gave you a smile.

“I’m glad to hear that y/n, but I once more chose the book.” David spoke as he leaned his head forward in order for you to see him as Vincent was blocking him with his body.

“Yeah but I recommended the store, if it weren’t for me, y/n wouldn’t have her book.” James spoke as well waiting for you to praise him as well.

“Well thanks to the three of you.” You gave them all your charming bright smile.

Silence surrounded the six of you once more as your bodies faced the front door. You were getting more nervous by the minute, and it seemed that your mother was the same. She kept on shifting her body weight from one leg to the other.

“What’s taking him so long? He’s five minutes late.” Your father said as he took a look at his watch.

A few seconds later the doors opened and you saw William standing in front of a guy. Who you presumed will be Roronoa, you straighten out your back and once more flattened out the front of your dress. Your family also stood straight and we’re watching tentatively.

“King and Queen of Mopia kingdom, I will like to introduce you to Roronoa Zoro. The knight that will be taking care of princess y/n.” He extended out his arm before stepping aside to reveal the man. You felt as if you were inside one of your stories, the man standing in front of you was beyond beautiful and he made your breath hitch in your throat.

Roronoa Zoro was nothing like how you imagined, his green hair made his features stand out. The earrings he had made him look even more attractive. The clothing he wore made his muscles stand out, even then you weren’t sure if he was strong enough to fight off any kidnappers. And is he carrying three swords?

While you were admiring him and thinking that he was any better than the guys you read about in your books. Your brothers glared at him, judging by his appearance it made them think he was nothing but trouble. They hoped your parents will change their mind upon seeing him.

“Mr. Roronoa, you are late.” Your father said while staring him down with a glare that made anyone want to crumble. Yet it didn’t seem to faze Roronoa.

“Yeah if you guys would’ve giving out clear instructions, this wouldn’t had happened.” He spoke as he stood in front of you and your family. Upon hearing his response, you left out a small gasp. Nobody and you mean nobody, spoke like that to your father.

“Excuse me?” Your father couldn’t believe how inconsiderate he was. Yet again how thoughtless the company was to allow such man to work with them.

“Look, do you want my service or not?” He spoke without a care, there were countless of other rich families wishing for him to work for them.

As you looked at your dad you saw how his fists were clenching and you were beginning to loose hope of getting out of here. So you did what you knew best, give him your best puppy eyes and hope he will give him another chance.

“Dad, please?” You turned to face him, he flickered his eyes from you to Roronoa and you could see him breaking. It was the same look you gave him the day you begged for him to buy you the biggest plush animal he could find.

With a deep sigh he turned to face Roronoa “yes, we do want your service. Follow me.” He spoke as he began to walk ahead of everyone.

Roronoa was the first to go after him followed by your mom and lastly you and your brothers. Who were giving each other annoyed looks. Vincent, was clenching and unclenching his jaw but yet didn’t say anything. He knew better than to interfere with the plans of his dad.

—

You had lost track of how many times Roronoa got lost. It was comically really, you weren’t sure how he could go from standing next to your dad to appearing behind you. It was as if there was a black hole sucking him in and spitting him out somewhere else. It got to the point that he had to be escorted back to you guys by William. Who found him in the kitchen when you were all out in the garden.

Finally, Vincent had enough, “Are you trying to be funny?” He spoke with a loud voice causing all heads to turn towards him. Everyone’s except Roronoa who was picking his ear and looking at your plants.

“You planted all of these?” He asked almost innocently.

His question caught you by surprise, it was the first thing he has said to you since his arrival. “Y-yeah I did.” You tried to sound sure of yourself but it came out in a low voice and you couldn’t help but stutter.

“Hm…they’re pretty.” He said as he inspected the flowers closer and fiddled with the petals of the orange flower.

“Thanks.” You crimsoned after hearing his comment. It was at that moment that you realized he wasn’t that bad. Sure he was pretty blunt but the way he spoke made you feel butterflies in your stomach. You weren’t sure if that was good or bad.

James was the only one who noticed this as the rest continued to stare Roronoa down. He hoped you wouldn’t develop a crush on him simply because he was the first guy you saw. He rather hoped you’d like him for the type of guy he was and his personality.

“Well, Mr. Roronoa, tomorrow you will take my daughter to the village. I hope you take good care of her.” With a motion of his head, your father made everyone leave you and Roronoa alone in order to get to know one another.

Your brothers were the last to leave as they threw glares at Roronoa. He still hasn’t gained their trust and you couldn’t blame them. It seems as if this is just a hobby for him instead of a responsibility.

The both of you stayed there in silence for what felt like hours, but in reality, a few seconds passed by. As he walked around inspecting all the plants, you felt how your hands began to sweat. In an attempt to get rid of it you tried to wipe it on your dress, although that was of no use. The more you did that the more noise it made which caused Roronoa to look at you.

Clearing your throat you took small steps to get closer to him. “So, Mr. Roronoa, are you looking forward for tomorrow?” You really hoped your voice sounded as confident as you thought.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I guess I do look forward for it.” He spoke before standing up. “I have to go now but I’ll see you tomorrow miss y/n.” He placed a hand on your shoulder as he walked away.

You couldn’t help but stand there looking dumbfounded. Once again you felt how your stomach erupted with butterflies that seemed to multiply by the minute.

“Y-you’re going to wrong way.” Was all you could muster to say as you pointed him the right direction with a shaky finger.

—

You woke up earlier than usual feeling ecstatic, it will be your first time going outside of the castle. You weren’t sure what you will see or what will happen but you were looking forward to it. You hoped you and Roronoa will be able to talk more and get to know one another. Yesterday, he gave you the feeling that he isn’t much of a talker. Maybe he will change the more the two of you see each other.

As you got up from your bed you began to panic. You weren’t sure when Mr. Roronoa will show up. What if he was already waiting for you? Or what if he won’t show up until later on in the day, leaving you with nothing to but wait for his arrival?

Getting out of bed, you put on your slippers and headed to your bedroom door. Before your fingers could wrap themselves on the knob, the door opened.

Daisy, the main lady-in-waiting held towels on her left arm and was startled to see you awake.

“Good morning miss y/n, do you need anything? You’re up rather early.” She stated as she closed the door and headed to your bathroom to set the now clean towels.

“Good morning Daisy, I was just too excited to sleep… do you by any chance know when I’ll be leaving?” You asked hopeful.

“He will arrive at noon, I believe you two will be out for almost the whole day.” She said with a smile. “Will you like to get dressed now?” She asked as she walked over to your wardrobe.

With a nod of your head, you walked over to where she stood and helped her set down the dresses she chose. The weather would be perfect, not too hot and not too cold. You took off your pajamas and walked over to the mirror. The dress you chose wasn’t big or complicated to put on but Daisy’s job was to help you get dressed. Once it was on you, you couldn’t help but admire yourself in the mirror. You wore a pink floral French dress and if reached just above your ankles.

Unfortunately, you had just grown out of your sandals. Which left you with no other option but to wear square toe double Velcro strap block heels. You were positive that by wearing those it guaranteed you no comfort for most of the day but you had no other option. Part of you hoped that he will like your outfit, aside from him needing to stay professional. You hoped this could lead to more, of course you knew it was absurd. Yet you couldn’t convince our heart otherwise.

—

As the next hours passed by you once more felt nervous, not just about finally getting out but spending most of your day with a stranger. You just hope he wouldn’t get lost and leave you to fend for yourself.

Your family didn’t help to ease your nerves, your brothers said to not be afraid to speak up if he did anything you didn’t like. They even showed you some quick defense moves, which may or may not had caused James to be unconscious for a while. Your parents also have a list on what things to do and not to do. Not just for yourself but also for Roronoa, you’re sure that they will go over it when he arrives.

You were proved right, as soon as he arrived, on time may you add. Your parents gave him ground rules to follow. All he did was nod and gave them the promise that he will take care of you as if you were one of his swords. You weren’t sure how to take that comment but you were too scared to ask.

Once the lecturing was done, your mom walked up to you at a fast speed to engulf you in a hug. Aside from them wanting to protect you at all costs, you sometimes felt as if they didn’t show enough affection to you or your brothers. You were caught off guard but eventually raised your arms to hug her back. You felt as if she was talking to you through her embrace, begging you to not go. Fearing that you would never return.

“Mother, I… I have to go now.” You whispered, afraid that if you spoke louder reality will hit you hard.

“Right, sorry.” She whispered back and slowly unwrapped her arms around you. As she took a step back she wiped some tears that had managed to fall out.

“Take good care of her Mr. Roronoa.” Your father said as his eyes were fixated on him. “Enjoy your day y/n” was all he said to you as he walked away from the scene.

Your brothers also came up to say their goodbyes. Although they weren’t so nice to Roronoa, you noticed how they each patted his back aggressively.

Once that was all done, the two of you were left alone for a while before William showed up to guide you both to your ride. For the first time, you would be sitting inside the carriage that you’ve seen your brothers get on countless of times. As you walked closer to it, you couldn’t help but admire both the I side and the outside.

As much as Zoro tried to fight it, he couldn’t help but let out a small smile at the sight of you smiling. He wasn’t one for sappy things but he sure hoped to see you smile more often. Even throughout the short drive you kept on looking at the scenery that surrounded the two of you. From the plants and animals that you passed but also to the different people who you saw walking.

You noticed that you got the tendency to fidget with your fingers and the rings that adorned them when you were nervous. Zoro took notice of this and attempted to calm you down.

“It’s my first time visiting this village as well.” He said as he leaned back on his seat and looked outside.

“I hope we enjoy it.” You uttered.

Finally, the carriage came to a halt and the door to your right opened. “Miss y/n I hope you don’t mind but, I have to drop the two of you here. Your parents thought it will stop anyone from knowing where you come from.” He stated as he held the door open for the both of you.

“Thank you.” You said as you got out, followed by Zoro.

As the two of you began walking, it was then that Zoro took notice of your outfit. Especially of your shoes, he thought it was absurd, considering how much walking the two of you would do.

“You didn’t have other shoes?” He asked suddenly.

You were confused by his question and you were beginning to feel self conscious about your outfit. “I only have high heels, I used to have sandals but they no longer fit. I really hope that it doesn’t bring either of us any trouble but I really had no other option.” You rambled in a fast tone.

“What size are you?”

“Size five and half…why?” You questioned.

“I’m sure we’ll find you some comfortable shoes for you to change into.” He said as if it was nothing.

—

And you did find some cute sandals that you’ve seen some girls around you wear. It was your first time wearing simple shoes that weren’t all that expensive and for once you felt some sort of freedom. It was as if you were normal. Even though your parents gave you money to spend, Zoro offered to pay for them.

The two of you walked around and looked inside stores that caught your attention. Everything was going great so far and you were truly enjoy yourself. It wasn’t until the two of you stopped in front of a book store that you lost track of Zoro. You looked around you in hopes of finding him standing nearby but there was no sign of him. You hoped he will find his way to you but as much as you looked around, you didn’t see a glimpse of his green hair.

A lady passing by must’ve noticed the scared look on your face that you desperately tried to hide. She walked up to you cautiously, “hi dear, are you ok?” She asked.

Your head snapped to hear and you tried your best to stay calm, “ye-yeah…I’m fine.” You stumbled on your words and took a few steps back. Afraid of facing the same destiny as your sister.

“Are you lost?” She asked once more.

“No, I’m just…I’m not lost.” You were starting to feel dizzy, all you wanted was for Zoro to come back.

Suddenly, and hand came up to you and grabbed your upper arm. You were so out of it that you couldn’t scream, all you did was jump slightly.

“Don’t wander off without me y/n.” A males voice came to the conversation and even though your mind was fuzzy it still recognized the voice as Roronoa’s.

All you could do was wrap your small hand on his and breathe out a sigh of relief once you confirmed it was him. The lady that was standing in front of you didn’t say anything but only looked at the two of you. Once she was sure you were in good hands she walked away.

“Don’t ever leave me alone again Roronoa.” You spoke in a hushed tone.

The pain in your voice caused a weird feeling to erupt in Zoro’s stomach, he felt bad and wanted to make it up to you somehow.

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

—

The rest of the day, you made sure he wouldn’t leave your side for even a second. Which left you with no other choice but to hold hands with him. You tried to convince yourself that it was for your safety and not because you want to know what it was like to hold his hand.

It was now 5pm and the both of you were walking with food boxes on your hands, trying to find a nice place to eat. You had one arm intertwined with his, you weren’t sure if it bothered him but he didn’t say anything.

“What about…there?” You asked as you pointed with your finger to a bench that was near a small fountain. There weren’t that many people around, which worked for you.

As you two sat there and ate your food you took this as an opportunity to get to know him more. “So Mr. Roronoa-” before you could continue he cut you off.

“You can call me Zoro.”

“Ok, so… Mr. zoro-” you attempted once more before being interrupted, again.

“No need for formality y/n, just call me Zoro.” He said as he took a sip from his drink.

Letting out a small sigh you continued “Zoro… do you have any siblings?”

He was caught off guard, he expected you to ask something about his job. The other princess and prince he had to look after, never tried to get to know him.

“I am an only child.” He responded.

“How is that like? Do you like it or have you always wanted siblings? If you do, I could lend you one of my brothers just not James. He’s always nice to me and I will miss him the most. Even if we’re always arguing over small things…”

As you continued your little rambling, he did nothing but look at you and notice your features. As well as the way you pronounced some words which led to him staring at your lips from time to time. He noticed how they formed into a small smile from time to time. He wasn’t sure for how long your parents will need his service but, he hoped your time with him wouldn’t end soon. Hopefully he will be able to understand why he felt happy when he was with you.

Taglist: @knjsbae

#sad-brunnettee #one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro x reader #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece au

[illyaana]

Credits to @breakingpengui1 to the Tendou fanart! Do check them out, I stalked them for almost two hours- ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

Fantasy Collab by @bluebellhairpin

God I'm sorry it took so long TwT I wanted to make this really good so TwT (don't think I did it) Do check out the other works involved!! I am also thinking of making this a three-part series 'cause I have some ideas on this and I took way to long on this, so let me know if you want me to do it!!

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Like my writing? Do you want a drabble specifically made for you about your love life with a character of your choosing? Check out my 50 followers event over here!

Tags: Fantasy AU, Soulmate AU, Fluff, Angst, Royal! Y/N x Werewolf! Tendou

Word Count: 2611

There was a time when the world of the supernatural was one of peace and harmony.

Magia, the realm of magic and the supernatural being, was one filled with mysteries and beauty.

Plants would dance to the rhythm made by the woodland creatures. Fairies and elves would sing songs in praise of the wondrous views and people who nurtured the lands and made it the beauty it was today.

Mermaids and the life under the wide oceans and seas shared the riches of the water with those on land to make both worlds something to gaze upon.

Yet, it all changed when humans found something within them.

Greed and Pride - the recipe to the fall of Magia.

Now, the land of the supernatural isn’t like the ones stated in fairy tales and stories by the Grimm Brothers of Hans Christen Andersen.

It is one where sins are not shunned but encouraged.

Kings and queens interfere with the peace once built by the people to become one of villainy and devilish intentions - pillaging and conquering lands to become stronger and “better”.

The ones labelled “magical” or “not human” were either killed or hidden far away, never to be seen once again.

You were born into this - this world filled with anguish and pain.

You were born to be on the top of the food chain - to rule a twisted and dark country: Thelphs.

“Y/N, don’t writhe in pain. You are next-in-line for the throne - a simple wound like this should not make you fall.”

“Y/N, a leader never hides away from death - they face it and make it their weapon.”

“Hold your sword higher! You need the correct angle to slice through someone cleanly!”

“Do not taint the name of Thelphs, young one - death is not the thing you should be worried of but me.”

“If you don’t win, you are no longer my kin.”

Your father’s words rang in your head as you reached the land of Aldis - the land that never fell to the wants of humanity and shunned it.

Aldis protected the supernatural world. They were the ones who held onto the desire to make Magia what it was many, many years ago.

It was known for the beauty it held - the flowers were said to sing songs every day and every night and the mountains shook the ground once a month to say thank you to their valiant effort in protecting what the world of Magia should be.

And yet here you are; leading a line of men wielding swords and cannons aplenty to kill the very thing the world should be.

“Onward,” you shouted as you and your man marched down the stone roads of Aldis, “Fight, my people - fight for Thelphs, fight for your King!”

You pulled the sword sheathed in your belt and pointed towards the land before you. Soon, an uproar formed from the men behind you as you all marched towards the lines of houses.

You begged your humanity to hide as you wielded the weapon in your hand and slashed through hundreds of innocent people.

You begged your ears to close just for a few hours so that the screams of children could not enter as you pillaged their homes, reaping all their goods.

You felt the ground shake below you, trying its best to stop you from killing any more living things, yet you couldn’t.

A haze formed in front of your eyes, hiding all of your caring sides. You could only feel bloodlust - the need to slaughter and to feel the blood of others on you.

It was no use. Your feet, despite being on a moving floor, were still holding on to the ground, The grip you hand on your sword didn’t loosen and tightened.

If you were meant to be a machine designed to kill, you needed to carry out your job properly to ensure you aren’t thrown away.

The fairies soon came to attack you and your men, but you couldn’t kill it.

It was the first time you saw one that had magical abilities. The beauty it held entranced you.

Their wings were translucent. The light that hit it would change colour thanks to the dust that left its wings, forming somewhat of a halo around them. Their hair reached the very bottom of their legs. It swished back and forth as they flew towards you.

A pang was felt in your heart when you remembered your father’s words.

He said the fairies were ones who never cared about humans and instead mooch humans to live.

They were pests that needed to be killed, according to him.

But they are fighting alongside humans right now to protect their homes.

It was clear your father’s words were far from the truth, yet you needed to follow his wants, his needs.

You begged your limbs to move on their own so that you didn’t feel the piles of flesh go through your blade.

But you couldn’t.

You had to stay conscious through all the pain and misery you were giving to those who didn’t even deserve it.

The mixture of both human and fairy blood soaked your inner shirt, forever staining it.

The once grey tiles that covered the floor of Aldis now are forever painted red, and it was thanks to your orders.

You walked through the mountains of bodies, the blood streaming from them staining your shoes.

This was your fault.

This was all your fault.

You looked up to the sky, praying for the rain to fall and wash away your sins, but you could only see the clear, blue sky staring back at you. The clouds moved slowly through the pale blue background midst hiding the Sun’s blinding light away from you.

Semi, your commander soon stood beside you.

“My liege-”

“I killed them - I killed angel-like fairies. I killed humans, I made the ground shake - literally - and I killed the first-ever fairy I have seen. How did my father do this and still walk around Thelphs with no regrets?”

“Y/N...” Semi said, trying to console you.

But you could only laugh.

This.

This is what it means to be human- to kill those who don’t deserve to be killed.

“I can’t handle this anymore, Semi. I want to end this - all of this - so badly, yet I can’t even fight my own father.”

You turned your face to look at your childhood friend.

He too felt the same way you did - his eyes said everything.

Behind the coffee-coloured eyes hid guilt, sorrow and pain.

His face filled with the dust and smoke from the bombs that your men slung to this land. Yet, some streaks were starting from his eyes to the ends of his chin that were clean. Blood dripped from the top of his forehead down to his lips, leaving half of his face coloured in crimson.

Your thoughts rang clearly after looking at the man before you.

It was no longer about wanting to end it, you had to.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, “I will end this, Semi - this unneeded suffering and killings - I’ll end it all.”

He gave a teary smile to you. “Please, Y/N. I don’t think I can do this until I die.”

You pulled a handkerchief you kept in your pocket and proceeded to wipe the blood off his face.

“I can’t, too. This guilt,” you shook slightly, tears threatening to fall, “This guilt is too much to bear.”

He raised his hand and wiped off the tears.

“My liege, you need to be strong. We’re going to face the people we’ve committed countless sins against. Impersonate the devil - be the evil person you aren’t to protect the name of Thelphs.”

He took the blood-soaked handkerchief from your hand and threw it to the floor, “After all, what but devils would do what we did?”

Your heart broke at the words muttered by the man before you.

He was the furthest thing from a devil.

He was the man who comforted you when you were crying.

He was the man who took your pain and gave you nothing but light and joy.

Yet he stood in front of you - covered in blood both his and others with a strong resolve.

You stared at him, anger flaring in your orbs.

“You are the furthest thing from a devil, Semi Eita. But, we are controlled by one. Innocent ones like you should have never fallen into his tricks.”

He was taken aback by what you said. Tears soon fell from his eyes, sobs that he hid from you all these years came flowing like an endless howl.

He placed his head against the corner of your neck. Your shirt slowly began taking in his tears as they trickled down your neck.

You wrapped your arms around his figure. It was your time to comfort him.

Once he stopped crying, he wiped his tears and gripped your shoulders. “We need to go to the riverbank now.”

You nodded and let Semi lead you to the body of water.

You saw how the people tried to protect themselves from your men. They formed a circle with the younger ones in the middle. The ones on the circumference of the circle gripped on their small blades as they threatened your armoured soldiers.

They cared for each other.

The strong wanted to protect the weak; they were willing to sacrifice their lives so that the legacy of Aldis lived on through the young.

“Bring out the carriages,” you told your men. They immediately nodded and proceeded to follow the orders issued.

You turned to the people you’ve captured. A smile managed to reach your lips as they looked at your figure with fear.

“I do not wish any harm on you. We’re just going to make all of you line up and bring you to Thelphs - that is it,” you finished.

Most of them nodded in fear, yet there was one who refused to listen.

His hands had burned aplenty, instantly telling you that he was an ironsmith. He wasn’t rich - the clothes he wore were tattered, many of the holes were formed through his hours in iron crafting, presumably. Yet, you didn’t doubt his skill in fighting. The way he held the sword spoke more than words. The way his fingers comfortably wrapped around the leather handle made you feel some sort of pride within.

He was a person of valour and determination.

In almost seconds, he lunged in your direction.

You didn’t want to take out your sword. It felt like the man needed to hurt you in some way to make himself feel relaxed.

You gripped on the handle of your sword but didn’t have the heart to pull it out of your sheath.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the small tip of the blade to pierce through your skin. You wanted to feel your skin tear from the man’s undying resolve.

But it never came.

Instead, you heard the clashing of metal against metal.

Semi had rushed to protect you using his shield.

He stared at you, anger visible in his eyes.

“You made me a promise, Y/N. Don’t you dare take the easy way out.”

You could only smile and nod at the ash grey-haired male in front of you.

You teared your gaze from Semi to the man before you.

The disappointment and vengeance in him began to grow. The flame he once held within grew into a blazing fire.

“Why? Why attack us?” he began.

“We did nothing to you. We protected ourselves and helped others who needed us. We never bothered Thelphs - not even once, so why?”

You couldn’t reply - your morals would’ve gotten the best of you.

“Chain them all to each other - take all their weapons or anything sharp. We’re going back to Thelphs as winners, we don’t need the scars to prove it.”

You heard the roars of the men who stood before you. In their eyes, they believed all they’ve done is for the betterment of the world you all lived in.

But you knew what hid behind the tapestry that was woven by your father - destruction.

You bit your lip, not wanting to ruin the cheerful moment your men were having - all you could do was stare at Semi and let your eyes speak of all the pain you were feeling.

From afar, you heard a howl that woke up your numb senses.

Werewolves.

Joy graced the victims of your purge.

Their saviours came, ready to vanquish you and your men.

“They said the future leader of Thelphs was one ruthless and evil miscreant, yet they seem awfully sad for someone who led their troops to glory,” a werewolf said as he emerged from the bush beside you, “They do have a heart, after all.”

You stopped the minute you saw the male that now stood before you.

His red hair framed his sharp-jawed face. His obsidian eyes stared you down, a passion forming within the two of you. His olive skin gleamed under the soft light of the Sun. As he moved, you saw the scars painted on his skin - slashes made by swords and vicious beasts shifted in variations of his peach skin.

The ends of his lips raised as his eyes raised up and down, taking you in slowly.

“Mine.”

He rushed to you, his hand finding its place around your throat. He gripped softly, but strong enough to keep your soldiers on alert.

“Stand back!” you said, urging them to move back.

“Oh? - So my mate actually does care for me, don’t they?” He said, his mouth reaching the base of your neck, “How sweet of you, my love.”

Mate?

“State your business here, werewolf.”

“Well, in the beginning, it was to help the people you’ve captured,” his hand travelled to your waist, pulling you in, “But I think my prey has changed.”

You tried to pry yourself off of him, but you knew, deep inside, you wanted to pull him closer. You wanted to throw the troubles you had, all the roles you were born to play, to cast away the men who viciously fought under your order - all of that, just for a male you have just gazed upon.

The pull, the connection - it was instant. It was present, unrivalled.

Its wants and needs rang so clearly in your head.

But you had a promise to Semi - to the country you loved.

“Let go of me, wolf.”

“You don’t mean that love,” he said as he placed his head in the crook of your neck, “You want me just as much as I want you.”

He placed his hand on your cheek and you instinctively melted into the soft touch of his.

“Look at that,” he whispered, “You have already felt it, too - you know you can’t look back.”

“I can’t just give it up,” you tear.

“Then change it. I’ll stand behind you - change your homeland to what it was; a beacon of hope and freedom,” he smiled as your eyes softened, “This connection has to be proof that you were meant to be the change Thelphs needs, Y/N.”

You stare at his black eyes - more specifically the brown flecks that danced within them. They sang of nothing but determination and want - he wanted you, but he knew you had a want to change your homeland. He knew it all - just by a few minutes of just glancing at you.

He kissed your cheek, warmth spreading by that small action.

Your thoughts ran clear, the blinds holding back your judgement drawn.

“No.”

#Illyaana | Haikyu!! #Illyaana | Satori Tendou #Nemo’s Fantasy Collab #hihqnetwork #animehorizon #angelwalker's virtues #hq tendou #tendou fic #haikyuu tendou #tendou x reader #tendou imagine #tendou x y/n #tendou scenario #tendo satori #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyu!! #haikyu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x self insert #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #hq x reader #hq!! #semi eita

[honeycombalbedo]

Cryo Visions || Genshin Impact Theory (Part 1)

(This so long I have to separate it into 2-3 partss)

Reason for doing this?? I just really like cryo characters ok

So to begin we have to talk abt why visions are granted

Visions are given to mortals by the god who represents said vision's element. The reasons why they give it to certain mortals can be seen in the vision tales for each character, the character level up gems and what the god's divine ideal is (freedom, contracts, etc).

As a few examples:

Pyro: She's a passionate mf who lives for those who have a passion in battle/adventuring/their craft etc and want to have their names know. You can see that in (basically) EVERYONE she's given a vision to. (I don't know how Diluc fits in but I don't really know abot his story other than the basics)

Geo: He values those who work hard and those he can trust with them.

The issue is, the cryo archon is the only one without a confirmed ideal. Everything else can be seen for the most part.

The gemstone:

"Sorry... to also have you shoulder the grievances of the world."

"Since you could endure my bitter cold, you must have the desire to burn?"

"Then, burn away the old world for me."

The cryo archon, despite now being described as cold and bitter still seems to have a strong heart for those she deems as unfortunate.

Now it's character story time

Diona

People commonly see Diona as entitled and annoying which it kinda shitty tbh

Diona's father, Draft, who she idolises and adores, is an alcoholic. To quote Diona, "When he's drunk, he's like a wild boar rolling about in the mud!"

We also don't know if Diona's mother is present because only Draft is mentioned and when he's drunk he just, isn't there. She has an envy towards wine because it "steals her father away". She's a lonely child who's father is barely there because he pays more attention to alcohol.

Secondly, she's been blessed(or cursed) by a fairy. It's mentioned in one story chapter. It's why every drink she mixes is so good. This kinda hinders her one goal, to destroy the wine industry.

Finally, she got her vision when a 3 day long storm trapped her father outside. The knights couldn't get a search party going due to said storm. Diona was enraged that she may have her father permanently stolen from her, she rushed outside, puddles beneath her feet freezing as she followed her fathers tracks.

Ganyu

Ganyu is forever cursed to walk among and serve mortals who see her as nothing more as a servant, afraid to mention her qilin heritage due to the fear of people out casting her from liyue's society.

Because her countless hours of work, a thousand years goes by in a blink of an eye. Even the smallest of errors will cause her anxiety to grow and become intensely embarrassed by.

A qilin's nature/ideals is to be peaceful and harmless creatures, not to harm a single plant or bug, making Ganyu a vegetarian. Yet, Liyue's foods are incredibly enticing towards her yet she must stop herself from taking part in their delicacies because a lot of it includes meat. Seems trivial but it's one way Ganyu is separated/distanced from Liyue's society. Which is something she doesn't want to be, distanced, an outsider intruding on the locals.

Interestingly, when Ganyu's vision was granted, it was when she offered to be the Liyue Qixing's secretary, a vision had immediately appeared.

Qiqi

Qiqi is dead, she is a zombie.

When she died she was only a child, sent out the look for herbs by an unknown person, she got lost and trapped between the mortal realm and the realm of the adepti.

Adepti and demons alike watched her, all understanding that this was a innocent child who had the misfortune to be caught in something more than a mortal could handle.

While bandaging her leg's wound, she could hear the otherworldy sounds that emanated from where she sat.

She hadn't expected a large crash and to be forever trapped between life and death.

In her last breaths, she was gifted a cryo vision, the adepti couldn't let her die now, so they gave her a part of their strength to keep her alive. She had to be frozen in amber for a few years due to her body being unable to control the adepti's strength.

After a few hundred years, she was discovered, yet still in amber. She was going to be brought to wangsheng to be buried but due to the journey, the seal shattered and she ran away.

She continued her herb gathering duties, even in death, and that's when she met Baizhu, a man interested in immortality. She was taken in by him and became his herb gatherer, and his test subject.

It's offhandedly mentioned in her voice line about Baizhu "I can never remember Dr. Baizhu's face. But I don't mind." Which implies she has no attachment to him whatsoever and wouldn't mind forgetting him. Another thing that implies this, is in one of her stories, the only thing that can cancel orders is a hug from behind and to say something akin to "I love you the most". It's mentioned that when Baizhu does it, it ineffective because it has little sincerity.

Also, this is her vision story

"Qiqi's Vision was given to her in the last moment of her life.

She wanted to stop the clock from turning. She wanted to live happily again.

She feared death. She wanted to live. She missed her family...

These feelings coalesced at last into "ice."

"If only I could freeze time... How wonderful would that be?"

As she thought thus, tears fell from the moribund girl's eyes upon the Vision that had appeared before her.

The mighty and illuminated adepti all acknowledged that this was a legitimate form of "illumination" — the yearning of humanity for bygone days is, after all, a desire to protect the past."

And that's the end of the first part, next one will be about Chongyun and Kaeya, and hopefully a conclusion to this.

#genshin impact #genshin theory #genshin #genshin diona #genshin ganyu #genshin qiqi #cryo archon #genshin archon

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - when you’re feeling sensitive

This work, 敏感时刻, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it

The original work is split into two parts but angst isn’t good for digestion so I merged them (¯▿¯)

[ VICTOR ]

It isn’t the first time you’ve seen such things.

Ever since your relationship with Victor was disclosed to the public, negative comments on the Internet became a staple to your daily life.

They were all in unison, stating that you weren’t good enough for Victor. 

Victor - the young and promising CEO of Loveland Financial Group, the ideal man for innumerable women.

But he chose to be with a girl like you.

You - a producer from a small, unknown company. 

Because of you, the dreams of countless women were shattered.

Although Victor has already been doing what he can, such as dedicating a small team to control the harsh comments levelled against you, it’s natural that you’d feel stung by such comments. 

Am I really not suitable for Victor?

Why is Victor even with a girl like you?

“I’m back.”

Victor’s voice disrupts your train of thought.

You shake the lingering thoughts out of your head, then plaster a smile on your face to greet him.

“Welcome home.”

However, the moment your eyes flit to Victor’s shirt, your smile freezes in place.

There’s an obvious lipstick mark on it.

It’d be a lie to say that you aren’t upset.

Victor notices the slight change in your expression, immediately taking a step closer to you.

“What’s wrong?”

You push Victor’s outstretched hand away, then brush past him. 

“Nothing. I’m going over to Kiki’s house for a couple of days.”

Perhaps what they said wasn’t wrong, and you were not worthy to be with him.

Perhaps you never should have fallen for him.

-

It’s rare for you to look this dispirited. Immediately sensing that you’re out of sorts, he chases after you, embracing you in his arms.

“What’s wrong? Did things not go smoothly at work?”

He pauses before adding, “If it’s because of comments on the Internet, the legal team in LFG will handle them.

You shake your head, wriggling out of his grip weakly. “Those things are fine.”

Victor loosens his grip, but maintains his posture of hugging you, not letting you go completely.

“You didn’t get the limited-edition lipstick you wanted?”

The moment he brings up the word ‘lipstick’, the floodgates open.

“Let go of me! Since I’m not the only one who leaves lipstick marks on you, go look for other women!”

Victor knits his brows in response to the sudden accusation. “What are you talking about?”

You bite your lip, pointing at the mark on his shirt.

He lowers his head, eyes following your finger. When he releases a sigh, your heart grows several degrees colder. “So it’s because of this?”

Victor retrieves his phone from his pocket, then taps on a video in his photo gallery, showing it to you:

“Dummy, your lipstick got onto my shirt.”

“I did it on purpose! Victor, I want to tell the entire world that you’re my man, so you’re not allowed to wash it off!”

It’s a video of the last time you got drunk. The HD camera captured the scene clearly - the exact same shirt, the exact same location, the exact same lip mark.

He pokes your cheek.

“A certain someone forgot that she got her lipstick on me. And now she’s accusing me of being unfaithful?”

“I was wrong,” you mutter softly.

He sighs, taking you into his arms again. “Are you still leaving?”

You sniff, burying your head into his chest.

“I’m not leaving. Victor, I’m not leaving in this lifetime.”

[ GAVIN ]

It isn’t the first time you’ve seen the “belle of the police station”.

You always seem to bump into her whenever you’re on dates with Gavin.

Every single time she sees the two of you, she’d wear a surprised expression, as though it’s the first time such a “coincidence” has happened.

You never really suspected that there was anything going on between the both of them. 

But Gavin has been gone for far too long on this mission. You haven’t seen him in a month, and haven’t received any calls from him.

Gripping your phone, you’re filled with worry, anxiety, and fear. You have a bad feeling about this whole situation, but decide to try calling him one more time.

Unexpectedly, Gavin picks up.

“Gavin! How are you doing?”

 “I’m now...”

“Gav! I’m here!”

A woman’s shrill voice can be distinctly heard at the other end of the line, and you find yourself no longer registering what Gavin is saying.

It’s the belle of the police station.

And everything clicks. 

You understand why Gavin hasn’t contacted you even after such a long time.

“Gav~ Come over and play!”

“It’s all right, Gavin. You’re busy.” 

You hang up.

A wave of disappointment overwhelms you, and you huddle into a ball before letting the floodgates open.

It’s really upsetting. It’s really, really upsetting.

You never expected Gavin to do such a thing.

You never expected that he would ever leave you.

You thought loving a person meant loving them for an entire lifetime.

But you forgot that life consists of countless variables.

Perhaps you and Gavin were never meant to walk down the same path.

Perhaps the both of you were simply meant to meet for a moment, love for an instant, then continue down separate paths.

-

Gavin stands in the STF command room, his brows furrowed as he stares at the phone, the officer in front of him silent.

Eli looks at the belle of the police station sternly. “Xiao Liu, what’s the meaning of this? Didn’t you know the Commander was in a call with his wife?”

Xiao Lu shrugs. “Sis-in-law isn’t so petty, right? If it were me, I would definitely not keep Gavin on such a tight leash.”

"Shut up.”

It’s rare for Gavin to exude the dignified air of a Commander in front of his subordinates.

“Intern officer Xiao Liu. Given your ranking, it’s inappropriate to address me by name.” While speaking, he rifles through a stack of papers on the table, retrieving a particular report.

Without a moment of hesitation, he writes a “fail” on her assessment results. Gavin slams the completed report on the table, glowering at her.

“Disrespecting your superior, slow-moving, not heeding orders - I can come to a conclusion right now. You’re not suited to be a part of STF. Return to where you came from.”

With tears in her eyes, Xiao Lu strides out of STF.

When Gavin returns home, his girl behaves the same way as always whenever she feels hurt - cocooning herself in blankets, as though she doesn’t have a sense of security at all. Seeing you like this, Gavin feels a tightening in his chest.

He gently peels open your protective cover.

“Hey, I’m back.”

As expected, your eyes are red and swollen.

You shove him away violently, reminiscent of an injured animal - weak, yet stubborn.

Gavin draws you into his arms unyieldingly, not giving you a chance to escape. Distressed, he plants feather-like kisses on your swollen eyes.

“I did not.”

These three words are simple and plain, but sufficient to convince.

You understand what he means, but you can’t help being unreasonable. “She’s always around. This isn’t the first time.”

“I’ve never cared about her whereabouts. If she didn’t participate in this mission as an intern, I wouldn’t even remember what she looks like.”

Gavin is honest, and he states undebatable truths.

You let out a “hmph.”

“She even called you ‘Gav’!”

“I told her to return to where she came from.” Gavin holds you even more tightly, lowering his head to the crook of your neck so he can drink in his favourite scent.

"You’re being so fierce towards me even though we’ve been apart for so long. Should I do something to make up for it?”

[ LUCIEN ]

You wonder if you should just run away right now.

Standing at the door of Lucien’s office, you watch as a girl leans incredibly close to him.

From this angle, there’s virtually no difference from them kissing.

Words spill from the girl’s parted lips.

“Lulu, you like me too, don’t you?” 

So the pet name wasn’t exclusively used by you.

When did Lucien start losing interest in you?

It makes sense though. You can’t match up to anyone in Lucien’s Research Centre. Everyone here is a scientist who has high intellect and stellar academic qualifications. 

And you? You’re just a producer from a small company.

It’s an almost laughable notion that Lucien would like you.

“Lulu, be with me, okay?”

That girl’s voice carries with it the shyness of one who is confessing her love for the first time. You watch as Lucien stands up from his chair, preparing to respond.

“You’re a good woman.”

“Lulu, I just knew you’d agree!”

You can’t bear to listen for even a second longer.

And you start regretting picking up the phone call.

Maybe if you weren’t so curious, you wouldn’t have to witness this, and you could pretend that nothing happened today,

But you came, and you saw what happened.

You can’t tell yourself that nothing did.

Perhaps you aren’t the best partner for Lucien.

Perhaps you aren’t his only butterfly.

-

Eyes wet with tears, you can barely make out the figures of Lucien or the girl through your blurry vision.

You don’t dare to stay behind and listen to Lucien’s answer, afraid to hear an agreement from his lips. But your legs seem to be filled with lead, forcing you to fully appreciate the scene as it unfolds before you.

Lucien takes a step back to put some distance between himself and the girl. His voice is even more firm than usual.

“You’re a very good woman, but it doesn’t mean that I’ve agreed, nor does it mean that I like you.”

You stop breathing.

“First, I need to correct the way you address me. Given your position, you should be calling me ‘Professor Lucien’.” His clear voice carries with it irrefutable authority.

“Also, I already have a family, and I love my wife very much.” Lucien pauses, a look of longing surfacing on his face. “Just like how the painter only has eyes for the butterfly, she is the only colour in my eyes.

He vaguely notices that the girl before him is tearing up. “To me, you’re no different from the other students. Now, please leave my office.”

He walks to the door and pulls it open. Unable to hide in time, he spots you. Although he’s mildly stunned, he quickly recovers, voice gentle.

“Why are you here?”

“I received a call.”

Considering the tacit understanding between the both of you, Lucien guesses what happened. He directs a stern gaze towards the student in the room, and speaks mercilessly. “Maybe I should have a discussion with the Dean regarding whether a particular student should be allowed to stay.”

He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. Leading you into the office, he lets you sit on his chair, then faces the student.

“Get out of my sight immediately.”

[ KIRO ]

How did things become like this? 

You’re lost in thought, staring at the screen which displays a picture of Kiro at a celebrity dance party.

The funny thing is, the comments left are unanimously supportive.

“A talented man and a beautiful woman - they’re just so compatible!”

What about you? What can you do as Kiro’s girlfriend?

Returning to your own social media page, you’re met with unanimous scathing, humiliating remarks.

Some assert that you snagged Kiro simply because of luck.

Some commented that your subpar looks don’t make you a good match for Kiro.

A small group of fans support your relationship with him.

To be honest, these things didn’t bother you. What you cared about was Kiro.

As long as he loves you, nothing else matters.

But now, it seems like things are going the way you expected them to.

Kiro told you that he was out of the country to film for a movie. Yet, he has been photographed at a celebrity dance party, sparking rumours as a result.

Marketing immediately used this chance to pair the two celebrities together, completely disregarding the existence of you, Kiro’s girlfriend. 

It makes sense though. As a normal citizen, what kind of hot news can you stir?

Why should you be a party to this mismatched love?

Perhaps he’s suited for someone better.

Perhaps being with him is simply an incredibly beautiful dream.

There will inevitably come a day when one has to wake up from a dream.

It’s time for you to wake up.

-

The television is off, and your electronic devices are placed as far away from you as possible. The door to the house is locked, and it’s even bolted with an anti-theft chain that you’ve never used before. All the photo frames featuring the two of you are placed face-down.

You don’t want to hear about anything related to Kiro. All you want is to live in a tiny, empty world belonging only to you.

After calling you for the eighth time only to be notified that your phone has been turned off, Kiro has a bad feeling in his gut.

Savin thrusts a laptop into Kiro’s lap. “Look at what’s trending on the Internet.”

Puzzled, Kiro stares at the screen. The more he scrolls through the pages, the more his eyes darken, and his golden hair faintly turns a shade paler.

“Savin, arrange for a press conference immediately!” Right now!” Kiro whips out his phone, calling you once more. “Miss Chips, please pick up.”

“I’m sorry, the person you are calling is currently unavailable...” The cold, mechanical female voice drones on.

Kiro takes out his notebook laptop, checking the surveillance feed of the house. He sees that you’re seated on the bed, staring out the windows in a trance. Fingers flying across the keyboard, he hacks into the control system, connecting his webcam to the television.

In an instant, his frantic face appears on the television screen.

The sudden lighting up of the television gives you a fright. Seeing Kiro’s face, you feel the burning sensation in your eyes returning.

Miss Chips, don’t believe the fake information on the Internet. I...”

“Kiro, the press conference is ready!”

Savin’s work efficiency is as stellar as always.

“I’ll have to trouble you to hold this laptop.” He turns towards the screen again. “Miss Chips, watch this. Don’t leave, and don’t be upset. I’ll be back soon”

-

“Aside from collaboration for work purposes, I have absolutely no personal relations with her. As for the false rumours on the Internet, my legal team will officially take action, and will also protect my fiancé’s reputation.”

Fiancé? He hasn’t even proposed.

“Also, in front of everyone on the Internet, I wish to propose to my Miss Chips.” Kiro walks in front of the press conference table, taking out a ring he has prepared since a long time ago.

He kneels down on one knee in front of the laptop Savin is holding.

“Miss Chips, will you marry me?”

-

[Cheri’s intrusive thought: I’m imagining how everyone at the press conference would be seeing this LOL]

[ SHAW ]

Unsurprisingly, Shaw’s in Live House.

He hasn’t contacted you for a whole week.

So you’ve been camping in Live House for a week.

It’s been an interesting few days, and you’ve noticed the same girl appearing at his side.

She’s very beautiful, and exudes a certain maturity. As compared to her, you’re clearly inferior.

So why did Shaw pick you instead of her?

Or rather - were you simply a second choice, and will soon be replaced since the true owner of his heart has returned?

The thoughts in your heart spiral into increasingly dangerous waters. 

But the more you think about it, the more you find it plausible.

Shaw seems different when he’s interacting with her. He’s more careful with his tongue, and tends to have a serious expression on his face.

Perhaps he doesn’t show that side of him to just anyone - not even you.

Could this be a sign that he doesn’t love you as much as you think he does?

You’ve gone through a heartbreaking love before, but didn’t expect to experience it again.

Perhaps a sweet romance is unattainable for you.

Perhaps some people have never belonged to you.

-

With a heavy heart, you plan to leave Live House, not wanting to face a break up. Doing it over the phone would be better - he wouldn’t know whether or not you’re crying.

You definitely have to be the one to initiate the breakup. Even if it upsets you, you have to retain your final shred of dignity.

Head lowered as you walk through the entranceway, you bump into Adam, who is just about to enter. Losing your balance, you support yourself on the door frame.

“Eh? Sister? Are you looking for Shaw?” Shock is written all over Adam’s face. “Shaw’s been busy lately.”

You cast a glance inside, but you can no longer see the Shaw nor the woman.

“Mm, I know.”

They probably went into the room. The rehearsal room that you rarely visit...

Completely oblivious to how strange your behaviour is, Adam leads you over to the rehearsal room enthusiastically.

You pause in your steps, keeping your voice calm. “Is it really appropriate for me to enter? Won’t I be disturbing them?

Adam laughs. “No way. Sister, you can just sit at the side and watch without saying anything. They don’t get disturbed easily.”

“I’d better not. I should go.” You decide to retreat, not wanting to hear their sweet nothings, afraid to see how meticulous Shaw is with that woman.

Just as you turn, the door opens.

Shaw stands at the entranceway. “What are you doing here?”

That’s right - you shouldn’t have come.

“I’m off.”

You direct this at Adam, not even giving Shaw a glance.

The woman seems impatient, rushing him to return. “Shaw, why aren’t you back yet?”

“Forget it, you should continue with what you were doing.”

Despite what you just said, Shaw pulls you into the rehearsal room.

Initially expecting that you’d be catching them in a romantic rendezvous, you’re instead met by a table filled with messy clumps of clay.

You stare at the somewhat cylindrical shaped object on the table.

“...this is?”

Before Shaw speaks, the woman pipes up. “Are you Shaw’s girlfriend? I’m the teacher in charge of Ceramic Art Design in Loveland University, and also the wife of his teacher.”

The female teacher turns to Shaw. “He promised that if I were to teach him pottery, he’d not be late for school, or leave early.”

The truth is out.

Your cheeks redden, and you hastily greet her. Then, you sneak a peek at Shaw.

“Why did you bring her here!? I worked so hard to hide for a week, and now it’s all ruined!” He balls his hands into fists and looks like he’s about to beat Adam into a pulp.

“Calm down. Isn’t it good enough for Sister to know that you’re preparing a gift for her?” Adam chuckles.

Shaw’s eyes flit to yours, then he averts them. “Tch, it’s none of your business!?”

A laugh escapes you. 

He really isn’t cute at all.

--

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc gavin #mlqc lucien #mlqc kiro #mlqc shaw #cheri shortcake

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble

A/N: A Draco fic no-one asked for! I’m rereading A Discovery of Witches so it’s got me inspired. I don’t plan to post anything over the weekend, I want a couple of days off before I post every day next week. This wasn't requested but I was inspired, so I hope you enjoy!

Title: Macbeth, Act 4: Scene 1

Summary: Draco needs a new stockist.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF - SO MUCH FLUFF.

Word count: 2.2k

Of all the avenues of employment open to Draco Malfoy after his graduation from Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, he surprised everyone by staying on at the school to apprentice under Professor Slughorn.

Horace Slughorn had retired once before and was eager to do so again; already fantasising about his golden years in the countryside. Draco Malfoy was his first and only choice for successor to his post – his grades in class rivalling those of Hermione Granger.

Draco’s training took two years where in that time he became able to rattle off ever potion ingredient and method just from hearing the very name of the potion.

Three years into his career and his first year teaching without Slughorn at his side, Draco’s stockist retires – also desiring a life in the country.

It leaves him in a lurch. 

He spends an entire month of his summer holiday researching potion shops before discovering one off the beaten track in Diagon Alley – closer to muggle London than the rest of the shops. So much so that the shop wasn’t protected by the enchantments surrounding Diagon Alley and as a result, the shop seemed to have a steady stream of muggle customers.

Draco enters Cauldron Bubble and is immediately taken back by the sheer amount of stock. Potion ingredients, materials for poppets, prayer candles are just a few of the items that catch his attention. The intoxicating scent of myrrh and sweet orange washes over him. A heady smell that soon opens up to more delicate notes such as vanilla and tansy.

Draco doesn’t immediately seek out the items on his list, but instead walks slowly around the shop, committing it all to memory. There are shelves of books dedicated to the craft of potion brewing but also in the art of divination; particularly tarot readings and palmistry. The entire back wall of the shop is dedicated to what could be hundreds of small draws; each filled with their named herb or plant.

He wanders through the store, feeling entirely at ease with the idea of spending the rest of his day here, discovering the shop’s deepest secrets.

A voice greets him as he finishes his circuit of the small shop, “How can I help you today?”

Draco smiles in greeting, “I’m hoping you have these ingredients,” he says, handing you his long list.

You read over the list, “I do. I have all of these – would you like to take them now or would you like them delivered…” you trail off, looking at him for his name.

“Draco Malfoy. I’m the Potions Professor at Hogwarts.”

“Draco,” You confirm, “I can get these for you now unless you’d like them sent to Hogwarts?”

“Now is fine,” he smiles, “I’m intrigued by your collection if I’m honest.”

You laugh, nodding knowingly, “It’s my pride and joy.”

Draco agrees, leaning on the counter, “It’s bigger than my stockroom if I’m being honest.”

“Now that makes me even happier.” You declare, pointing at the Professor.

The ingredients take time to be collected, but the silence that should be awkward, isn’t. It’s filled with conversation after conversation about the curriculum at Hogwarts and how long Cauldron Bubble has been open.

Draco admits to himself, as you finish tying the final string bow on his parcels, that he feels a little sad about leaving. He had enjoyed his time with you regardless of how short it had been; he felt as if he knew you. He felt as if he could form a friendship with you.

You hand him his parcels in a paper bag, smiling, “I hope to see you again soon,” you say in goodbye.

Draco smiles at you, “I hope to come back soon.” He offers as his parting.

---------------

On a bleak January morning, Draco walks into your shop, stamping his feet to get the last of the sharp, winter cold out of his body.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” You smile.

Draco grins in reply, handing over his list, “Another stock up.”

“Another? You came in before Christmas as I remember.” You smirk at the blonde-haired man, “Did someone miss me?”

Draco blushes, stuttering out his answer, “The… the students have had a few weeks off, they’ll have fallen into old habits with potion ingredients.”

You laugh, “You are one smoother thinker, Draco. It’s a good job I knew you were coming; I have your usual stock set aside.” You read down his list, checking you have everything put away, but you stop at one item. “Agrimony?”

“It’s coming up to Valentine’s Day.” Draco offers as explanation.

One of the properties of Agrimony is that it can break enchantments. Draco uses the yellow flower in his antidote for love potions. He frowns at the thought of how much antidote he would have to brew for those on the receiving end of an unwanted love potion. If he could ban any potion, it would be Amortentia. Not that he didn’t believe in love or anything along those lines, but the effects of Amortentia are never real and the aftermath is often worse than being under its spell.

Through his last two Valentine’s Days at Hogwarts as Potions Professor, he had to comfort countless students through the aftermath of the potion as well as deduct house points and hand out detentions to the students who think it funny to unknowingly drug a fellow student.

In his antidote for students, Draco also sprinkles in the petals of Feverfew and Boneset to ensure protection from enchantments or a broken heart, Draco never knows but he makes sure that his students are protected, nonetheless.

You nod at Draco, understanding the need for a potion to break enchantments through this particular holiday. “Here’s your Agrimony as well as your usual stock, is there anything else you need?”

Draco thinks it over, “I better stock up on Boneset, Feverfew, and Adder’s Tongue too.”

You raise an eyebrow, “It’s a very thorough potion you’re making here, Draco.”

He nods, “Too many students are drugged with the Amortentia potion and little is done to control it so I do what I can to protect any student I can.”

“That’s a wonderful thing to do, Draco.” You say quietly; touched by his words.

“I don’t just make potions with the plants and herbs. I make charms to go in their bags and to hang in their rooms too. Anything to protect.” Draco states; thinking back to a group of fifth year girls who had become targets by a group of sixth year boys; each girl suffering through a love potion before coming down from its high. Draco had made sure they each had a charm to carry in their bag as well as a vial of the antidote should one of them ingest the potion again.

You nod silently; overcome by the emotion in his words. You know then and there just how dedicated Draco was to his profession and the students he sees every day. You hand him his bag of herbs and plants with a smile which he returns before walking to the door.

He’s almost out the door when your voice calls out again, “Draco, I know we don’t know each other very well except for when you need to fill your stockroom, but you’re a good teacher and a good man – you know that right?”

He turns to you with his hand on the door handle; silver lining his eyes, “Thank you.” He whispers before opening the door and leaving.

-----

Your words play on his mind through the week leading up to Valentine’s Day and the week after the holiday too. He spends all of his spare time in the hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey; offering the antidote and words of comfort to each and every student that come in with symptoms of being drugged with Amortentia.

From Madame Pomfrey’s ceaseless ranting through those two weeks, Draco knows that she feels just as strongly about the need to rid the world of a potion like Amortentia.

Draco starts to think of you more and more, especially after each visit to Cauldron Bubbles where you go through his ingredient list with the practiced precision of a Potioneer.

His feelings for you really do take him by surprise. It comes with elation as he finally has a name for the butterflies in his stomach and the racing of his heart whenever he thinks of your smile or your focused look as you check and recheck the ingredients on the list.

He starts to visit Cauldron Bubble more often; making his way through the Professors at Hogwarts to see if they may possibly need something for their class. Professor Trelawney always has something for him to pick up, and Draco feels the urge to apologise to her for every time he was rude to her when he was a teenager.

Draco’s feelings for you only increase with each visit. He craves to see your face light up when he walks in the door; the bell above the door announcing his arrival. The light flirting with each visit was pushing him towards something more.

If only he could think of how to tell you.

---------------------

Draco ropes Madame Pomfrey into his plans to woo you; though she doesn’t necessarily know that

“Please, Poppy, you must have something you need to stock up on… I mean Madame Pomfrey,” Draco corrects when he meets her glare.

She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed with the former student, “You’re awfully interested in my stock cupboard, Mr. Malfoy. Whatever for?”

“Call it my New Year’s Resolution.”

“It’s May,” Madame Pomfrey nonchalantly reminds him, replacing the water jugs at the side of each hospital bed.

“Of the New Year,” Draco emphasises, following her, “And mine is to help more. So are you sure there is nothing I can’t get you?”

Madame Pomfrey sighs, bustling back to her desk. She notes down a few ingredients, “I’m running low on these herbs and plants for a tea I brew so you can get these for me.”

Draco beams, taking the list, even going so far as to kiss Madame Pomfrey on the cheek before sprinting back to his private quarters where he can floo to Diagon Alley… and to you.

--------------------

“Draco!” You call, “Back already? You aren’t due another visit for oh… another week or so.” Your eyes alight with mirth as you pick fun at the Professor.

He blushes, waving his list in the air, “Sent on an errand by Madame Pomfrey.”

“Don’t keep it to yourself! Hand it over, let’s see what Madame Pomfrey needs.” You cover your mouth to stifle the laugh as you read over the list from Draco, “Madame Pomfrey gave you this list did she?”

“Handed it to me herself, why?”

“Draco, to say you’re a Potions Professor, you can be quite dense.”

He frowns; you laugh at his puzzled expression. “Madame Pomfrey sent you to get the ingredients for a tea that curbs the menstrual cycle. A form of contraception.”

Draco doesn’t need to look into a mirror to know he’s blushing; he can feel the heat radiating from his cheeks – he’s sure it could heat his own cauldron. “Ah,” he begins, “Well, that’s a very responsible thing to have in a school like Hogwarts, wouldn’t you say?”

You nod, “Very much so. Madame Pomfrey to be admired.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“And you as well. For being her humble servant for this task.”

Draco rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “It was nothing. Truthfully, I pestered her until she gave me a list of ingredients.”

“Now why would you do that?”

“To see you,” He admits, eyes shining with truth.

“You pestered the Matron of Hogwarts for a list of ingredients… all to see me?”

He nods silently. Your eyes crinkle with your smile, “That has to be the cutest thing anyone has ever done for me. How long have you been coming here to see me as well as to get potion ingredients?”

Some part of Draco wants to scream as he admits, “Since January.”

“That long?” You ask, eyes wide.

He nods again.

“Why didn’t you just ask me to dinner?”

“I didn’t want to offend you and lose you as my stockist.”

You laugh, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since January you know?”

“No, I didn’t know.” He almost shouts; hating the fact that he could have been dating you all this time but was too scared to make a move.

“And you wouldn’t lose me as your stockist even if we did date.”

“No?”

“Haven’t you noticed that I’ve been undercharging you for your ingredients?”

Draco does the quick math in his head; thinking of how healthy his department budget had been when he handed it in to McGonagall back in March. “No… I didn’t notice.”

You nod your head slowly, “That was my way of flirting as well as the open ended questions.”

Draco rubs a hand over his face, “I can’t believe we’ve been dancing around each other for this long.”

Laughing you make your way from behind the counter. You pull his hands from his face, keeping them in yours, “Hey Draco, want to go to dinner with me?”

He grins down at you; letting the joy run through his body, “I’d love to.”

******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @harrypotter289​ @dreamer821​ @kalimagik​ @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @the-hufflefluffwriter​ @figlia--della--luna​ @bforbroadway​ @idont-knowrn​

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell​ @obxmxybxnk​ @obx-beach​

#draco malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x reader #draco x you #draco fanfiction #draco x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #draco fluff #draco fanfic #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter imagines

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 2-10: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation

"Put your back against the wall, bend your knees. Feet to the ground, heels up. This will help lessen the impact you're bracing for.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Brother Mao: Do you think my hoodie’s too plain? I think it doesn’t quite highlight my amiableness...

I’d just returned to the office, only to see Brother Mao turning left and right in front of the mirror, observing himself with a deep crease between his brows.

Zheng Lin: It’s just a simple succession ceremony. I’m sure you don’t have to go dressing up like a Christmas tree.

Brother Mao: (Y/n)! Quick, give me your opinion! Do you think I should wear something flashier?

MC: I think you’re pretty good just as you are right now. Is something important going on?

Zheng Lin: It’s the new CEO’s succession ceremony this afternoon. Brother Mao heard that the media was attending and think that he’s not dressed well enough for the cameras.

MC: The new CEO?

Brother Mao: You don’t know!? Looks like it’s time for me, the jack of all trades, master of none, to take the stage once more.

Brother Mao: According to a reliable source of information, this new CEO is Director Lu Ting’s nephew.

Brother Mao: No other details about him could be dug, other than the fact that he’s from the Lu Family. Hell, no one even knows what his full name is!

MC: Huh…

Brother Mao: And judging from your expression, I guess it's safe to say you don't know anything about the Lu Family, don't you?

He got more and more excited as he went on, completely forgetting his prior plan of changing his image. He even brought a chair over, and sat in a manner as if he was doing a storytelling session.

MC: I have a feeling that you’re going to tell me something that only appears in TV Shows…

Brother Mao: This is loads better than a TV Show!

Brother Mao: Last time, it was said that Warson’s original heir was actually Director Lu Ting’s brother! Aka, the new CEO’s father!

Brother Mao: In the end, no one knows what happened, but the position of heir ending up falling to Director Lu Ting.

Brother Mao: To reclaim his family business, this new CEO has been concealing his strength and biding his time overseas, only recently making the return to this country!

Brother Mao: The war between uncle and nephew is imminent, and he went and hired Sariel Qi. Checkmate! The first round's the CEO's win!

Brother Mao: I hear that trying to get him to come out of hiding is as difficult as trying to move Mt. Everest to Guangqi City.

MC: ……

Brother Mao: So, it looks like this new CEO man’s dashing, warm, gentlemanly; and not to mention, extremely capable!

Zheng Lin: Have you seen him before?

Brother Mao: 'Course not! But that's what everyone says.

MC: Isn't the succession ceremony only in the afternoon? Why does everyone know about it already?

Brother Mao: I hear that the new CEO has already been in office since last week, albeit secretly.

Brother Mao: They say that a colleague accidentally ran straight into him while knocking off in the wee hours of the morning and toppled over in her hurry.

Brother Mao: The CEO helped her up and even gave her a band-aid along with a bruises spray.

Brother Mao: And that was when news of him began to spread.

MC: Getting off work in the wee hours of the morning? Now that’s just exaggerating...

Brother Mao: That's beside my point here, missy. I'm talking about the CEO!

Brother Mao: Though, speaking of working overtime… All the breakfast stalls in Guangqi City are already open and ready for business by the time the CEO leaves the office every day.

Both Man’man and I let out shocked noises of disbelief.

He got really into his explanation, but just as he was about to continue… The telephone on Zheng Lin’s desk rang with a shrill cry.

Zheng Lin: Hello, this is Zheng Lin speaking. This afternoon, correct? Yes, that won't be an issue.

Zheng Lin: (Y/n), are you free now? Team A has a meeting slated for the afternoon. Can I leave you to handle the fabric catalogue book?

MC: Of course.

❖☆———————————★❖

Having done the same thing earlier this morning, I was able to pick out the required fabrics a lot faster. Soon enough, I was done.

Ding!

The elevator doors slowly opened. I ran a final check through the catalogue book as I stepped into the lift.

❖☆———————————★❖

??: Which floor are you headed to?

MC: 21st, thank you.

The doors of the elevator slowly closed. I froze, turning my head around in disbelief.

Those eyes, hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses, watched me with rapt interest. It was only when our gazes connected that I managed to make out the gentle smile hidden within its depths.

MC: Evan!?

Evan: It's been a long time.

MC: It has. I didn't recognize you at all just now.

Evan: I sure do hope you'll be able to recognize me at first glance next time then.

I nodded, feeling slightly bad for not having recognized him.

MC: Definitely.

Evan: Congratulations on entering Warson.

MC: Thanks. What a coincidence, though. We're now actually colleagues.

Evan: It truly is. You look pretty busy. Have you gotten used to things around here?

MC: I'll get there. How about you?

Evan: I'll be a little busier today since I have to prepare for this afternoon's succession ceremony.

I didn’t expect him to be one of the employees involved in the succession ceremony. I was just about to ask him something when the smile on his face suddenly disappeared.

Bzzt, bzzzzzt!

Loud static noise sounded as the elevator blinked out of life, its screeching akin to countless nails raking across the blackboard.

❖☆———————————★❖

My heart lurched as my eyes immediately flickered to display where the current floor should be showing. It was pitch-black!

Ker-thunk!

The slowly-descending elevator jolted as it began to drop further at an increasingly faster rate.

★Night choice: Attempt to break out

Panicking won’t solve the problem! The most important thing right now is to find a way to save ourselves!

Recalling the emergency measures I’d once seen on the internet in the case of something like this happening, I tried to stabilize myself, ambling towards the panel where all the elevator’s buttons were at.

Evan was already beside me by the time I reached out. We wordlessly understood each other as we stood side-by-side, pressing all the buttons and lighting them up.

He pressed the emergency alarm button right after. However, the alarm that we’d been expecting to hear never came. All that reverberated in the air of this confined space was the deafening roar as the elevator plummeted.

I hesitated for a split second before grabbing onto his hand.

Evan: ……

MC: Don’t panic, Evan!

MC: We just have to put our backs to the wall, bend our knees, and plant our feet on the ground with our heels raised!

MC: We’ll be able to reduce the impact that way! It’ll be alright!

Evan looked at me, the initial surprise colouring his features morphing into a faint smile of understanding.

Evan: Okay.

He stood beside me without any questions, holding tightly onto my hand.

Evan: I’ll listen to you. No panicking.

The lift made another loud thunk the moment the words left his mouth. And after a violent jolt, it… stopped. 

 Red numbers flickered to life on the black display. The lift had stopped on the 11th floor.

MC: Phew… Good that it stopped. Are you okay?

I turned, only to find Evan curiously watching me.

Evan: Can I take it that you were trying to protect me earlier?

MC: It was an emergency, so I…

Our hands were still clasped together. The warmth of a palm pressing against mine made my cheeks flush.

I subconsciously attempted to withdraw my hand, only to realize that I couldn't.

MC: …...?

Evan: We can't be sure that it's completely safe now. The elevator might continue plummeting again at any moment, so let's not let go of each other just yet.

He was right. I nodded and stopped fighting against him. Although, it felt as if my cheeks had just gotten hotter.

Evan used his other hand to retrieve his phone. He tapped the screen.

Evan: There's no mobile signal.

MC: Then let's—

However, before I could finish, the lights within the elevator flickered. Once. Twice. And then, they completely blinked out of life.

My brain had yet to register what happened when suddenly, a surprisingly strong force tugs me over, enveloping me in a protective embrace!

☆Light choice: Yell for help with all your might

Just as your mind blanks out on you, a warm, yet strong hand tugs you over.

Evan: Put your back against the wall, bend your knees. Feet to the ground, heels up. This will help lessen the impact you're bracing for.

Evan: Don't tense up. Relax.

I quickly did as he instructed. Suddenly, I realized that we could have just pressed all the buttons of the elevator to stop its descent. I turned to look at the button panel, only to realize that Evan had long since pressed them all.

He leaned against my frame, still holding onto my hand. His expression was one of utter calmness.

The elevator made a loud noise of protest after a violent jolt as it finally jerked to a halt. The panic I felt from the free-falling weightlessness finally released my heart from its clutches.

Red numbers flickered to life on the black display. The lift had stopped on the 11th floor.

MC: Phew… Thanks.

Evan: You're welcome.

I let go of Evan and looked towards the buttons of the lift.

MC: The elevator has stopped. Let's hurry and contact the people outside.

I pressed the emergency alarm button, but the alarm I was expecting to set off never came. The enclosed space was eerily silent. I took out my phone, but the icon at the top of the screen denoted that there was no signal here.

We had absolutely no way to contact anyone outside. Looks like there’s only one option left…

MC: Evan, let's just directly call for someone outside to help us.

MC: If someone hears us in passing, then they should be able to find a way to get us out of here.

MC: We might not be able to catch anyone’s attention, but it’s still better than doing nothing.

Evan: You make a fine point. Together, then?

MC: Yeah.

Evan: Can anyone hear us!?

MC: Is anyone out there!? Anyone outside!? The elevator broke down!

I didn’t dare to bang on the elevator doors. All I could do was to yell at the top of my lungs, yet… we didn’t receive even the slightest response from the outside.

Despair slowly spreads its tendrils within my heart. I stopped yelling, but just as I was about to think of another way to seek help, the lights within the elevator flickered. Once. Twice.

And then, they completely blinked out of life.

I raised my head, blinking dumbly at it. Suddenly, a surprisingly strong force tugs me over, enveloping me in a protective embrace!

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-8) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-13)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: threads spun

Summary: In another life, Obi-Wan Kenobi would have fought plenty of other Jedi Masters for the right to train little Luke Skywalker. In this one, Luke is 19 and just lost his family when Obi-Wan teaches him how to do a proper Padawan braid.

AN: I’M BACK FROM NANO WITH NEW FANFICS.

The boy just lost his whole world, and he clings to Obi-Wan's robes with shaky hands. His eyes are bright blue, his hair a fair gold color, and for just one short moment, Obi-Wan isn't sure whether the child in front of him is nine or nineteen, whether his name is Anakin or Luke.

It is the reason he gave Luke to his family in the end, even when the Force and all his selfish desires were screaming at him not to. The newborn, the son of his Padawan, the child that was Luke Skywalker, had deserved better than a broken man who didn't even know who he was without a thousand lights illuminating him. A man who'd risk forgetting that he was not holding the child he had raised, the child he had left to burn.

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and the moment passes. 

He doesn't ask the boy if he's alright because it is obvious that Luke is not and it would be cruel to demand an honest answer. Luke can't be standing straight after he experienced such tremendous loss for the first time, nobody would, and Obi-Wan is saddened that he can't give Luke the time to grieve.

Despite all this pain, Obi-Wan still dares to hope for light and life.

He is relieved to see that Luke doesn't take all the hurt and anger to hide it within himself. Obi-Wan has never taught Luke a single lesson about Jedi philosophy, the way they grieve and handle all the emotions that are too large for this world, those that are capable of tearing the galaxy apart. And yet Luke controls his feelings exactly as a temple-raised youngling would, not pushing them aside or letting them overtake him. He takes timed breaths, centers himself on the world surrounding him and not on his anxieties. Pride fills Obi-Wan's heart as he watches peace and balance return to Luke's mind.

In another life, Obi-Wan would have fought plenty of other Jedi Masters for the right to train him.

He can almost hear his family laugh at him, playful jabs about him being so eager to train yet another Skywalker and see what colors they could draw nebulas in. It isn't Obi-Wan's fault; he has always loved a challenge, and Luke, racing in Beggar's Canyon at an age no boy should step into that death trap, would have certainly been a joy to teach and guide.

He could have taught him so much, so much he still needs to teach him, but the clock is ticking and time has always been a cruel mistress. Not purposefully, she wouldn't dare, but she is absolute and eternal, and like death, she takes.

Obi-Wan silently wonders how much time he has left. He knows exactly where they are heading and despite the legends he has wrapped around himself in his exile, he's neither crazy nor a fool. They are attempting to pull off a plan that they wouldn't even have dared to suggest during the Clone Wars, not with so many untrained people. He's been called reckless plenty of times, his ability to talk himself out of seeming like an adrenaline junkie being his only saving grace. Still, Obi-Wan is acutely aware of the danger they are in.

But they have no other choice. They may have the Death Star plans in their hands – and wasn't it utterly predictable that it would be Artoo to carry the plans for a weapon of mass destruction? – but Leia can't stay in the Empire's hands.

Luke and she were so strong in the Force at their birth already. While Obi-Wan is convinced that Bail must have taught Leia at least some shielding techniques, half-trained children can't withstand a Sith Lord for long. Should Vader or worse, Palpatine, learn what Leia could become capable of, they would have so much more to worry about in the future.

The Rebellion might as well be lost.

"You have grown into a fine young man, Luke," Obi-Wan tells Anakin's son instead.

"I have?" Luke echoes, curiosity coloring his voice, highlighting a cadence similar to Padmé's despite his heavy Outer Rim accent.

"I brought you to Tatooine," Obi-Wan tells him. The journey hadn't been an easy one. They had to change ships multiple times and every time somebody had mistaken Obi-Wan for Luke's father, he had wanted to stop and cry like the infant in his arms. "You were a very sweet baby."

"Oh." Luke falls silent again, but his hands have stopped shaking. In his dirty white robes, he reminds Obi-Wan just a bit of a messy Padawan. He wears Anakin's lightsaber well, even if he doesn't know how to execute even the simplest of lightsaber forms. Frankly speaking, it is a bit terrifying to see how quickly he picked up the weapon and had gotten comfortable with it. The Force curled around Luke's every movement, guiding him like a beloved teacher.

Luke will need a teacher if he is to face the darkness that would catch up to them soon.

Obi-Wan feels much older than he actually is. The fault lies partially with the harsh marks that Tatooine has left on his body, but also with the life he has led. He isn't sure if he can teach another student, no matter how much he wants to, but he has to try at least for Luke's sake. That is, if the boy truly intends to follow the path of the Jedi.

"Luke," Obi-Wan says seriously, thinking of the one who gives life, the name granted to such a young child, "Do you truly want to become a Jedi?"

"Yes." There is no hesitation in Luke's reply. "I want to follow my father's footsteps."

No, Obi-Wan wants to weep. You don't. You can't ask me to cut you down as well; I couldn't bear it.

"It is admirable to want to follow the path of someone you respect," Obi-wan starts carefully instead. He can't tell Luke what became of Anakin Skywalker. The child deserves better. "But I am asking about your own inclinations. The path of a Jedi is not an easy one, and you have to follow it for your own sake if you want to succeed."

Now Luke does hesitate. He looks down at his hands, curls them into fists and relaxes them again.

"Yes," Luke finally replied. "Yes, I want to be a Jedi."

"Then I'll hope you'll give me the honor of teaching you. I'd like to take you as my Padawan."

Obi-Wan had said these words over three decades ago to another lost blond boy, the language a little different, their surroundings certainly more peaceful than the ship of a smuggler. He tries to banish the image from his mind.

"Padawan," Luke repeats slowly. "What does it mean?"

You should know, Obi-Wan thinks. You should know what it means and be overjoyed and celebrate this day.

He can't hold it against this boy, not even against himself or, dare he think it, Anakin because choices had been made, but away from it all, Obi-Wan can only blame the Sith who ruined them, continues to hurt them.

"It means that I want you as my student, teach you all I know so that you may surpass me someday."

Bring us back to the light, rebuilt all that we lost. Obi-Wan is asking him for so much when just days ago it would have been enough for him to someday see Luke marry that boy he's been crushing on for years and live the rest of his days happily, far away from the war.

And now he dreams of home again, the rooms full of plants and droid parts, poetry collections, board games, and warmth so kind and all-compassing that no nightmares can haunt you.

"You'd really teach me?" Luke asks as if he'd be honored and the right to be taught not already something he possessed since his birth.

"Of course."

"I'd be honored to accept," Luke replies with a shy smile.

Obi-Wan returns his smile and reassuringly squeezes his shoulder once. Luke leans into the touch and so Obi-Wan lets his arm linger around the boy's shoulders as he continues to explain traditions long lost. "Traditionally, we would now braid your hair and put in the first bead."

"Braid my hair?"

Obi-wan nods and thinks of all the times his Master ran his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair, tugging at his braid and saying one thing or another he hadn't paid any attention to because he'd been too awestruck by the fact that he had a Master at all. "Yes, all Padawans of the Jedi Order have a braid. It shows your dedication to your studies and how serious you are about them. It means that you know that this is not an easy task or an easy path to take, but that you are willing to walk it anyway."

Luke thoughtfully looks at Obi-Wan, then he reaches up with his hand, putting a strand of hair behind his ear.

"My hair is not long enough to braid it properly," Luke mutters, dismayed.

He's pouting more than he is actually hurt by the thought. Nevertheless, if he lingers on it, he might ask more questions about what other chances life has denied him and because of it, Obi-Wan wants to distract him quickly.

The distraction comes at the price of remembrance, a fourteen-year-old Padawan clinging to what remained of his braid, burying his head in his Master's chest, and crying after enduring days of torment. Obi-Wan had fixed Anakin's hair then as well so he wouldn't have to deal with too many looks once they were back at the Temple. His braid had been short, but it had been there. For a moment, Obi-Wan tries to recall who had assigned that mission to them, whether Sidious had already sown his seeds of discord then.

He lets the moment go. "Don't worry, I can help you."

He had done plenty of braids during his as a Padawan and later as a Master. When the war had been going on, he had helped frenzied Padawans countless times with their braids.

There was an almost meditative process to the act of braiding and letting others braid your hair. It had soothed innumerous over the centuries and now it will once more calm another. Luke sits still when Obi-Wan begins to part the stray strands of hair on the left side of his head into three. Luke's hair really isn't all that long, but it is definitely more than enough to work with. Slowly and withs steady fingers, Obi-Wan braids another bond with his second Padawan. Luke is a kind child and this war will hurt him incredibly. Obi-Wan can only hope that what he will pass onto him will be enough to have him keep his path, to wander in the light even when the darkness reaches for him with the intent to consume.

Once Obi-Wan is finished with the braid, he reaches for his belt, takes an old leather cord from there, and wraps it around the tip of Luke's hair.

"And finished," Obi-Wan announces.

Luke, who had closed his eyes, opens them and immediately reaches for the hair, twirling it between his two fingers in a fashion reminiscent of Obi-Wan in his youth. He had only managed to get rid of that nervous habit after his won braid hat been cut. Whether Luke would act similar, Obi-Wan doesn't know, but the thought of seeing Luke ascend to the rank of Knight of the Order, no matter how small, splintered and broken it is right now, it makes his heart beat a bit quicker.

"How does it look?" Luke asks.

"As it is supposed to," Obi-Wan replies. "I believe Mr. Solo has a mirror in his fresher if you want to take a look."

Luke races off before Obi-Wan can say anymore. He returns a few minutes later, already with more color in his face than he had in the hours before.

"Thank you. Master." Luke tags on the honorific only belatedly, unsure whether it fits and it is all the convincing Obi-Wan could ever need.

"You are welcome, Padawan."

Obi-Wan Kenobi has a student once more and he will not fail him.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #Luke Skywalker #jedi #original trilogy #fanfic

[daydream-believin]

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (waffles)

summary: (part 1) or (part 5) <- reader joins douxie on his quest to protect nari. he’ll need company wont he. (part 6) do you like waffles? also appalachia and nj trollmarket fun. next-> (part 7)

warnings: swearing, fem! reader, maybe an alcohol mention, proof reading is for squares yo

word count: 3875

a/n: i’m sorry to anyone from PA but wtf. i also have no idea why this turned out the way it did. bon apetit.

no gif im trying to test something

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Y/n looked over at Douxie. The blue of his hair was starting to fade into a duller hue. While not as bright and bold as his personality, it was still very nice to look at. This muted blue was softer, almost comforting in a way. Y/n found herself running her fingers through it. It wasn’t just the color that was soft. Like feathers in her hand, she gently caressed the strands. The duller color made him look tired, older, and the permanent bags under his eyes didn’t help. She placed her hand on his face and ran her thumb over a said eye bag. He gave her a very subdued smile in return. His sunken eyes were so beautiful. Her favorite color. Or colors, one should say. They were like an earth toned opal. Y/n’s hand drifted down his face. She used her thumb to explore his cheekbones, tracing constellations in his freckles, and finally settled on his mouth, tracing his cupid’s bow. Douxie couldn’t help but break the stoic face he was trying to hold.

“As much as I hate to ask this, and I really do, but will you please cease what you’re doing, My Love. I’m trying to drive here.”

“Yes, I would also like to ask you to stop, miss L/n. Not wrecking the ship is worth you canning your pda for a while.” Archie added.

Y/n pulled her hand back and exaggeratedly pouted. She teasingly stuck her tongue out at Archie for good measure, but couldn’t help but dissolve into a snicker right after so it wasn’t very effective. But really, it wasn’t her fault that Douxie’s beautifully sculpted face was right there and demanding to be touched. She tried to distract herself by focusing on the scenery around them. North Pennsylvania was delightful, so it’d be a shame if she spent the whole time that they flew through it looking at nothing but Douxie. There was plenty of time for her to do that the rest of her life. It’s not like she didn’t have every freckle memorized already. Every single adorable little dot. Right, Pennsylvania. Appalachia. Y/n was a little disappointed they didn’t manage to go through West Virginia, being as north as they were. She really wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Country roads.

The mountains were hard to transverse through, so Douxie took the boat up high in the clouds. A little too high. The oxygen was thin. While this didn’t affect Archie the dragon or Nari the plant goddess, Douxie and Y/n were getting a bit woozy. Neither would get altitude sickness to the point of dying, thanks to that good ol’ curse of immortality, but their minds weren’t exactly operating at high speeds here. They passed through a low hanging cloud in a puff of fog.

Though they were over it, just being in the range of Appalachia felt odd. There was a presence that clung to the mountains. Even flying high up in the air, one felt as though they were being watched. Like the thousand eyes of the forest were upon them. Looking down below, hanging over the edge like Douxie hated her to do, Y/n saw a herd of deer that might as well be ants. Watching over the herd was a bigger, or maybe closer, stag on a peak of some sort. His antlers were covered in crimson. Y/n hoped he was just shedding.

There were pathways cutting through the trees below, some roads, some manmade trails, some rivers, some troll trails, and some deer trails. Some that wound around in endless curves, some that seemed to start from nowhere and stop at nothing, some that went round and round in a circle, and some that crossed over each other, effectively creating a maze of sorts. Y/n didn’t know why, but she was glad she was above the trees and not in them. Something within her gut told her that as beautiful as the scenery was, she did not wish to experience it first-hand. The deer below were beautiful, but there was something not quite right about them. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to turn down a game of ninepins either, and she could really go for a drink.

Douxie’s brain may have been foggy, but he could certainly see Y/n hanging over the edge again, tantalizing him. He couldn’t help but imagine 174 ways for it to end badly. He’d been pretty passive about this before but now that they were so high up, he had no choice but to be up front now.

“Y/n, My Love,” Y/n turned her attention to him, which also pulled her weight more towards the boat than the sky. Good. “do you mind being back near the center of the ship? I really don’t like you draping yourself over the railing like that.”

Y/n was getting sick and tired of people always trying to keep her away from edges, advising her not to climb the mountain, telling her to stay inside when there was only a light rainstorm. She could handle it. She wasn’t a fucking porcelain doll. She was not wearing a fancy gown that suffocated her, she could speak, her lips were not perfectly painted on. And she wouldn’t shatter. “Relax, Dewdrop. I’m fine. I’m not just gonna go skydiving for kicks. If anyone has had a penchant for falling through the sky recently, it’s been you, Hisirdoux. I can catch myself with anti-gravity spells, like you taught me. Besides, we walk across tall, crumbly, ancient non-osha compliant walkways all the time. You never had a problem then.”

“Well,” He huffed, “it would be one thing if I was there next to you, but I’m not, so could you please just try to stay safe when I can’t reach you?” Y/n was taken about at how quick his tone went from annoyed to desperate. She furrowed her brows. Doux sighed, “Look, it frightens me, okay. I know that nothing will happen, but what if it does? I can’t- I can’t lose you.” His tone got even feebler in his pleading. “And there’s so many ways to lose you. Especially with the Order on our tails. Please, just give me this peace of mind for at least one thing.”

Y/n stepped away from the railing, crossing over to Douxie. He opened his arm and she nestled into his side. Pressing her head against his chest, she mumbled, “Absolutely. I’ll just—I’ll just stay here then. Next to you. I’m sorry I worried you. That was the last thing I wanted to do.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you, My Darling.”

~ ~ ~

The dipped down south to go through the top of Maryland and completely through Delaware to get to the south of New Jersey, in place of just going through Philadelphia. The city of brotherly love was not on the itinerary.  Philly, and the top of New Jersey, were just too densely populated to take a magic boat through. The airspace was filled with airplanes and skyscrapers. It was easier to go the roundabout way.

As they passed between Philly and Lancaster, they went by fantastically named towns such as Paradise the city, where the girls are pretty, Bird In Hand, Blue Ball, and Intercourse. Stellar. Y/n was starting to really like Pennsylvania. It was cursed ground. She made sure to get photographic evidence of every road sign. Douxie was happy to pose with them.

They took a pit stop in a town called Peach Bottom before leaving Pennsylvania. Y/n wanted to go through New Texas, since she was curious how somewhere in the original colonies could be a new Texas, but Nari could sense a river nearby, and wanted to seek it out. Peach Bottom. It was a cozy little town with a power plant that was dumping it’s waste into the riverside it was built on. Toxic river. Fun. Y/n made Douxie explain to Nari why she couldn’t get near the river or touch any of the water. Y/n wouldn’t have been able to stay as calm as Douxie could. There was nothing happening in the rural Pennsylvanian town. Nothing special about it unless you counted their countless nuclear admissions. The locals didn’t care for strangers, and that was alright with them cause they didn’t want to be here for any more than necessary for a restroom break. Dinner could wait.

The top of Maryland was great. Lots of rivers to make it up to Nari. There was just, an incredibly large walmart near the line. Just absolutely humongous whopper walmart. A leach whose name doesn’t even deserve to be capitalized, thank you very much autocorrect.

It took less than half an hour to fly right through the top of Delaware. Hi Delaware, bye Delaware.

Soon they were on the coast of south New Jersey, headed for a sleepy town called Monty. Monty was a town along the Cohansey, split across it with quite an impressive bridge between the two sides. As soon as the bridge became visible on the skyline, Y/n grabbed Douxie’s sleeve and tugged excitedly. She looked up at him with a big smile. Rest. At last, they were going to get to rest. Y/n made herself busy calling Jim to let him know that they were there so he could call someone else to let them know that they were there and to wait by the entrance for them. Neither Douxie nor Y/n had a horngazzle on them at the moment. Y/n had had one in her possession back in Arcadia, being book club buddies with Blinky, but alas that was destroyed along with their bookstore.

They hid that damn magic boat in the forest. While they did plan on staying with the trolls for a few weeks, Douxie didn’t put it back in its glass bottle quite yet, cause they were in fact taking it into New York not tomorrow but the next day. He covered the ground around it with a few more wards than necessary. Y/n threw up an illusion spell around it, as she had been all the other times they’d just left it in the woods, and thought the wards were overkill but didn’t say anything. They started on the trek to the base of the bridge.

The troll at the entrance greeted them cordially. He was a dark green color, with two massive horns resembling those of a longhorn cow, chiseled stone tattoos, and no clothes other than a tiny loincloth which made everyone but Nari uncomfortable. He let them in with flourish, as if he’d always wanted to do this and practiced it.

“Welcome to NEW JERSEY TROLLMARKET.”

Y/n was surprised at how well the town had come along within the two months the trolls had occupied the cavern. It wasn’t the Trollmarket she had known, there was no Blinky and no library, but still marvelous. The new hearthstone glowed warmly, very much alive and not making zombies. While looking pretty similar to the old Trollmarket, with a multitude of shops and homes carved into the mineral covered walls and formations, there was a sort of human touch to it now. Claire definitely had a hand in the planning and maybe the decorative features too. Or perhaps Jim. Y/n wouldn’t put it past the boy to be the one who designed the very elaborate crystal art flower bed she was looking at. Or that weirdly steampunk bridge. Funny thing, a bridge under a bridge.

Dictatious met them soon after they came in to show them around and to where they would be staying. The tour he gave them basically just included him walking them through the main street, waving his arms to various places and vaguely saying that they were shops but not what they sold, pointing out the pub, and then took them straight to their accommodations. Since the home that had been occupied by Blinky, Jim, and Claire was now empty, they’d be staying there, with the place practically to themselves. Dictatious also lived in said home, but rarely stuck around it for long now that his brother was gone.

“Alright, here’s your nest.”

Since Dictatious still slept in the nest that he shared with Blinky, he had given them Jim and Claire’s. The nests were just rocky bowls carved into the floor of the room, with a few comfort items. Thankfully, Jim and Claire had left theirs full of pillows and a couple thick cushions they must have taken from a couch. Unconventional, but better than sleeping on literal solid rock. Speaking of couches, there were way too many couches spread across the apartment. This entire place only had two rooms, a large living area and a nestroom, and yet there were five couches. Not to mention the extra-large easy chair Dic was currently lounging in. Okay, so one of said couches was technically a love seat, but still. There was no kitchen, which was surprising due to this being Jim Lake Jr’s home, and no table besides the one that three of the sofas were gathered around and a paper-covered work desk against a corner. There were glowing crystal lamps all throughout, lighting the house. All in all, interesting interior design decisions. The kids had definitely been trying to make it a more homey human dwelling but had limited options.

Nari nestled into the nest, happy that there were no blankets to smother her. Not even a minute passed and she was out like a light. Douxie and Y/n sat on one of the couches in the nestroom, watching the veggie lady snooze. Archie made himself comfy in Douxie’s lap, who absent mindedly stroked his familiar’s fur. They were underground now. Surrounded by inorganic matter. Some of that inorganic matter could fight, would be willing to fight, would probably be disappointed if there wasn’t a fight. The little devil on Douxie’s shoulder wasn’t really having to work hard. His stomach growled. They had opted to just not stop for dinner in favor of plowing right through their trip route. It was late, and dark, and Douxie really just wanted them to have a roof over their head before midnight. And now they did.

He looked over at Y/n. They had been a couple for an entire day now and he had yet to take her on a proper date. What a bad boyfriend he was. It’s not like Archie would want to come with them or anything either, since he filled himself with birds that didn’t know what hit them while they traveled. The dragon had even caught a hawk at one point, which wasn’t as impressive as it sounds, since Archie was a much faster flyer. He would be happy to watch Nari for them, surely. And Dic had given them a horngazzle so they could come and go as they pleased. It was settled then.

“Arch, watch Nari for us, please, we’ll be back in a pinch,” He grabbed Y/n’s hand to pull her off the couch, “C’mon, My Love, we’re going on a date.”

~ ~ ~

Turns out the only thing open past midnight in small town New Jersey was a waffle house. The perfect date. Y/n had thought it funny to watch Douxie try and deactivate all the fresh wards he had put around the boat. He had to be careful where he put his feet, and it was like he was doing a silly little dance. Ward trap ballet of his own barely thought-out design. At one point he stepped backwards to admire his work, triggering the ward behind him, and Y/n had to free him from the net. Lucky it was just a net one.

Entering the waffle house, they slid into the nearest booth, the one near the jukebox. They ordered what else but waffles. The food of kings and hungover college kids. Not just plain waffles, though. Douxie got chocolate chip and Y/ got strawberry, and they were going to combine them to make chocolate covered strawberry waffles. Everyone knows chocolate covered strawberries were the most romantic food, why else would they push them so hard around Valentine’s.

Douxie leaned in with his head in his hand. “So, tell me about yourself.”

Y/n laughed, decided to play into this bit. “Oh, I’m just a California lass, on her way to New York. Things have been crazy lately. Went to a very convincing renaissance faire, I’m harboring a fugitive, my roommate keeps hitting on me. Very stressful.  Sure am lucky I came across you, Mr. Handsome.”

“Lucky indeed.” Doux snickered.

Y/n pointed to the jukebox behind Doux, which he twisted around to see. “Have you ever heard ‘Last Night I Saw Elvis At Waffle House’?”

“No?”

“Oh, it’s a banger.” She got out of the booth and put a coin in the juke, making her selection. She slid back in with a Cheshire cat grin and Doux was kind of scared now, actually. As the current song ended and the song that they were waiting for began. Well, it was a song. About seeing Elvis in a waffle house. With a country tune he supposed someone thought was catchy in order for them to have recorded this. Douxie didn’t know what he had expected.

“Uh, wow.”

“Yeah, Ain’t it something. I loved this song when I was knee high to a grasshopper. All the waffle house jams really.”

“Your aunt let someone bring you to a waffle house? That’s not very proper.” Douxie chuckled.

“Oh, no, actually. Um, this was before my dad passed and my mother, ah, slipped.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Douxie rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

“No, no. I’m fine Dewdrop. I can talk about it, really. And, like you said the other day, I’ve been focusing on the Now Love.” The silly waffle house themed song was still playing despite the air of seriousness that had fallen over the duo. It helped keep Y/n from getting too sad and dwelling on the memories she had just brought up. It was comical, really. A waffle house song keeping her grounded. She rubbed the palm of Douxie’s hand. “I still mourn my family, but it’s been so long that the pain’s but a dull ache now. As long as I don’t think too hard about it. If anyone knows about mourning it’d be you, Doux. I can’t imagine meeting hundreds of friends over my lifetime just to watch them all grow old and die while you just have to go on living.” She paused, eyes drifting downwards, “But I suppose that’ll be my fate anyways.”

Douxie reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s actually not that bad, once you get used to it. You just have to enjoy every bit of time you get. That’s what makes other magic friends so valuable, there are some permanent players on your team.” He let his hand linger under her jaw, pulling her face closer to his, “You have me. We have each other. We’re family. We always have been.”

“So I hate to interrupt, but, waffles.” The server put the plates she had been holding down onto the table. Douxie and Y/n pulled away from each other quick as lightning, sitting up straight in their seats. “Again, sorry guys.”

“Thank you.” The two chorused to their fleeting form in embarrassment. Their faces were fire engine red. Archie was right, they did get a little carried away with the pda. It may have been 12:28am in a waffle house but they were still in public. Grabby hands needed to be kept to themselves.

After dinner, neither Doux nor Y/n could bring themselves to go home quite yet, despite the nagging feeling to return to Nari. They loitered around woods, unsure of what to do. Leaning against the parked boat, Douxie got an idea. He put on the music on his phone, turning the volume all the way up and positioning it so it’d put out a better sound the best he could. The playlist he selected was actually the one he had of songs that reminded him of his beloved. Copying what Y/n had done last night, he held out his hand.

“Come on, dance with me, My Darling.”

Douxie twirled Y/n around in the night breeze that blew through the trees. This song was much faster than the one they danced to last time, and there was more energy between them. Y/n’s laugh echoed through the forest. This was a lot of fun, she could do it all night. Honestly, she could do anything all night if it was with Douxie. He lifted her up, like she weighed nothing. Seriously, how strong was this noodle armed wizard. She threw her arms around his neck, looking down to meet his eyes, a rare thing. Y/n kissed his nose, eliciting a happy giggle from his mouth.

He should have put her back down by now. Instead, he still held her up, transfixed by her face ringed in moonlight, like a halo. She noticed the awestruck look on his face, kissing him properly, yet it did nothing to pull him out of his stupor. He had one thought running over and over in his mind. Marry me. But, he couldn’t say that. A proposal had to be special, not after a waffle house date. Their first date, mind you. He couldn’t possibly jus-

“Marry me, Dewdrop?”

Well apparently he couldn’t but she absolutely could.

It took him a moment to take in her words, shocked out of his overthinking. The biggest grin spread across his face as he giddily spun her around in his arms. He finally put her feet back on the ground, crashing his lips into hers. Y/n brought a hand up to drag through his hair and left the other to slide down his back. No battle for dominance, Douxie’s tongue was definitely the one leading here. He just couldn’t believe it. It was if she had read his mind. It was still hard for him to believe she wanted him in the first place, but this much? If this was the afterlife he must surely be in heaven. One makeout session later, Y/n rasped “So I’m guessing that’s a yes?”

“Let’s sign the papers tomorrow.”

~ ~ ~

Despite the uneasy feeling they had both had about leaving Nari alone for so long, she was perfectly fine. In fact she hadn’t even moved an inch form the spot they left her in. Like they never left at all. Archie was asleep on that couch, as peaceful as ever. They’d tell him the news in the morning.

Y/n climbed into the nest and dragged Douxie down with her. After getting comfy on the array of cushions, he opened his arms and she nestled into his chest. She could feel his hands rest on her back. Perfect. It was calming, listening to his heartbeat, being lulled to sleep with the rhythm that gave proof that her beloved was alive. A steady beat that reassured her he was there, he was there. He wouldn’t leave her again.

*** check notes for chapter illustrations lmao

#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie casperan x reader #douxie imagine #douxie casperan imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #douxie #toa douxie #hisirdoux casperan #toa hisirdoux #douxie casperan #my writing

[hobidreams]

Bloom | KNJ {M}

Family is who you kill for. Who you die for. In this society, you and your kin are shadows, clinging to the darkness to obey orders absolute. But when such orders command you to abandon what little honor remains for wealth and notoriety, you find yourself lost in lonely uncertainty about the only vocation you’ve ever known. That is, until you meet a man with gentle hands, a poet’s heart, and a love for coaxing the world into bloom.

pairing: assassin!reader x florist!namjoon genre: smut, angst, action, sprinkles of fluff words: 20.7k contains: descriptions of violence & blood, weapons, minor character death, fingering, dirty talk, oral (f), protected piv, multiple smut scenes, namjoon talks to his plants a/n: this piece challenged every ounce of my creativity (in the best of ways) & i’m so ecstatic to share it with you all! i tried my best with the floral research, please forgive me for any inaccuracies.

Night is coming.

With steady hands, you draw taupe curtains on windows that reflect the light of a dying sun, melting into the horizon to pave the way for the illustrious moon. The space now cast in darkness, you follow the trail of shadows to the full-length mirror that lines a wall in the entryway of this hotel room.

“Lights on, 60%.”

You tilt your head to a side, scrutinizing the dress that hangs loosely from your figure, done in a muted, subtle navy. With no loose threads to be found, you focus on your hair, on the carefully pinned bun and the solitary tendrils that weave their way down the side of your face. Just below, two earrings, diamond studs, add just a hint of distracting sparkle. But the most important accessory of your night will be the ring on your right hand’s middle finger, and the thin, imperceptible needle hidden inside, filled with exactly one dose of lethality.

From the designer purse that sits at your side, you extract your mini-communicator. A few taps has the hologram pixilating to life, bursting from the screen as you confirm the details of your mission. Tonight, you intend on making the acquaintance of one Park Siyeon. Multi-millionaire. Entrepreneur. Target.

Why Siyeon? That’s the one thing this file doesn’t mention. Nor did your brother Yoongi, when he issued your orders, though that’s been the trend for the last while. Tonight is the culmination of months of extensive planning, and Yoongi made it clear that this mission was not one you could afford to fuck up. Especially not after the last... incident.

Inhale.

Exhale.

It’s been a while since you were in action, but you’ve pored over the documents. You know Siyeon’s face, her habits. And this is not your first kill.

You drop the mini-com back into its home with your handkerchief and lipstick. The watch on your left wrist reads 7:31pm. The charity event downstairs started thirty minutes ago, and now you will be perfectly, fashionably late. Thoroughness (or perhaps paranoia) dictates you take one last look in the mirror. Then you slip into your nude heels before reaching for the door handle.

“Lights, off.”

By the time the steel elevator doors slide open to deposit you on the luxury hotel’s ground floor, the mingling is in full swing. Confidence radiates from your every step as you stalk to one of the men standing guard before the entrance. “Good evening, ma’am.” You offer a stolen invitation in response to his outstretched hand. “Thank you. Please enjoy your night.”

“Thank you.” You step inside, blending in effortlessly as you lift a flute of fizzy champagne from a nearby waiter’s tray. You have less than an hour before the main event begins to make contact, to make use of the hidden syringe that will render Siyeon incapacitated exactly twenty minutes after injection. It will look like a heart attack, a sudden tragedy brought on by unfortunate circumstance (stress being the usual suspect). By then, you will be safely miles away, retreating into the shroud of your underground headquarters.

You return smiles and head nods to those who toss them your way, probably assuming you are another one of the countless business associates in this flood. Weaving your way through the crowd, you sip at the bubbly drink.

“I haven’t seen you at one of these events before. What’s your name?” A deep voice interrupts your search. You turn to find a pudgy man grinning at you. Well, more like leering. You rattle off a fake name. “That’s pretty. Which company are you with?”

You feed him another false tidbit. He starts rattling on about how his company knows yours, how he’s senior executive whatever, and would you like to get a “business” lunch sometime? You’re not actually listening, too busy landing eyes on the lady of the night. Siyeon stands near the front of the room, draped in exquisite Chanel and a glittering shawl. Though her back is turned towards you, you catch enough of her face when she turns to greet someone who approaches her. Perfect.

“Of course, I’ll have my office call yours.” All the creep gets is one perfunctory nod before you step away, ignoring his protests that you didn’t even give him a card.

It is just your luck that there are a few tables set up near where Siyeon stands. You pick the one slightly to her right, in earshot of her conversation with an elderly woman. You need the perfect opportunity to cause a quiet commotion, just enough to distract her from the slight pinch of inevitability.

“Oh, please, you flatter me! I didn’t start my company alone. I have a lot of people to thank for all of this, truly.”

Hearing Siyeon’s voice in person is somewhat jarring, as you’ve only listened to it in surveillance footage. But if it bothers you, it never shows on your perfectly-crafted face.

“Always so humble, Siyeon. That’s why we all like you so much. By the way, I hear congratulations are in order! How far along are you now, Siyeon?”

“Thank you, thank you. I’m about eighteen weeks in now!”

Your breath catches. No... Purposefully, you shift. You swivel just enough to catch a better glimpse of Siyeon’s body. Your stomach drops.

Looks like the file left something else out.

Siyeon has loosened her shawl. The midnight of her dress bulges over her stomach. It’s not too obvious yet; you perhaps wouldn’t have noticed at first glance. But now, you can’t ignore the growing swell, no matter how much you want to. Siyeon cups the underside of her belly with dreams in her eyes.

Damn it. You’re no expert, but eighteen weeks doesn’t sound like very much. In fact, it doesn’t sound like much at all. Medical advancements in the past century have been vast, but a tiny infant of eighteen weeks might just be impossible to save on its own.

...But that’s not your problem, is it? You were given orders. Orders that have to be carried out, or else.

You spot someone walking purposefully towards the pair from the other side, probably to pull her speaking companion away. This transition would provide the perfect chance for you to make your move. You will only have a few seconds, not enough time or space for hesitation.

This is what you’re supposed to do. This is what you’ve always done. You finger the ring on your hand as you shift in your shoes, moving just an inch closer. You find the activation switch, though you don’t press it yet.

“Siyeon, are you feeling alright, my love?”

You fight the urge to spin towards the voice as your thoughts are interrupted. You recognize the tone, one smooth and self-assured. It comes from beside you. The owner, suit-clad, slim, brushes your arm as he passes by. Kim Seokjin. Siyeon’s husband of a few years, another company head and one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen.

Through your peripheral vision, you watch Seokjin slide an arm around Siyeon’s waist to pull her in close. He presses a kiss to her cheek, turning her towards him as his other hand comes down, slides over her belly. “You’re not tired? Do you want to sit down?”

“No, no, I’m just fine, honey.” Siyeon beams at him.

“Ah, Seokjin! Siyeon was just telling me about the baby.”

Seokjin’s smile blossoms into utter bliss. “Our favorite topic! We just renovated the baby’s future bedroom, actually.”

“Jinnie here is going to build the cradle himself when we get to England. Can you believe it?” A burst of laughter, like chimes.

“Anything for my baby girl.”

You want to curse but hold your tongue. You press your eyes closed, squeeze in irritation at yourself, at Siyeon, at chance. You could still do it. Erase the light from her eyes and his. It would be simple. Too easy, in fact. But your thumb falls away from the ring like dead weight. It would take a strength far greater than what you possess to find the switch again, no matter what logic dictates.

The unknown guest reaches the trio to pull the older woman away as you predicted. But you stand rooted to the spot as you let them go, watch the opportunity slip away like sand through half-heartedly cupped fingers. Seokjin and Siyeon are still trapped in their bubble of pure joy, gushing about baby clothes or names or something you can’t stand to listen to any longer. You turn away.

Excuses whirl through your head, knowing there’s going to be hell to pay but there’s probably worse if you carry out the orders. You’ve found another damn line you can’t bring yourself to cross. Another line that reminds you that you’re weak, no matter how you try to hide it. Your footsteps feel too loud on the marbled floor despite the music and the chatter as you surge through the bodies in seek of the exit.

Then your instincts kick in.

The raise of a hand to an ear, from one of the suits standing against the wall: the telltale sign of a hidden ear-com. You whip your head around, spot another woman in a short dress speaking into a com that looks far too official for your liking. You don’t even make it ten more steps before you spot a man with a bulge in his jacket that can only belong to a holstered weapon. They would be invisible, well-camouflaged to the layman’s eye. But you’re a professional.

To make it to the exit, you have to pass the man near the wall. But now he’s on the move, seemingly headed to the same direction you are. Have you been made?

You reach for your communicator. Now you’re less than fifty steps away from the exit. He’s less than thirty from you. There would have to be something from HQ if they caught even a whiff of danger, especially from the NIS. The National Intelligence Service has always been a pain in your ass, trying their best to ruin what you and your family have built. But the mini-com you pull out is devoid of any new info. You fail to notice your handkerchief coming out with it, falling onto the floor as you shove the com back into your purse.

Close. Freedom is so close. You speed up.

“Ma’am?”

A man’s voice comes from behind, but there’s no way you’re going to stop for him. If you turned, you might have noticed him pick up the bit of cloth. Instead, you rush past the guards, keeping a pace that just looks like you have to run to the washroom for some emergency. But instead of going deeper into the hotel, you head for the automatic double doors that part quickly for you.

“Ma’am, you dropped something!” But the words aren’t loud enough to surpass the music to make it to your ears.

Onto the street, you’re hit with the last rays of sunlight. You blink, mind working overtime. You can’t outrun them; hiding is your only option.

You decide right instead of left. Two doors down from the hotel, you find a store overflowing with flowers in the storefront. You ignore the almost-sickly saccharine perfume as you yank open the entrance and throw yourself inside.

A glance at the counter tells you that any employees here are thankfully absent. Hidden behind several, giant potted plants, you watch as your pursuer runs out past the glass window. He looks around, turns a few times, but can’t find who he’s looking for. Afraid he’ll look into the shop, you turn as well, focusing on the table behind you. Which just so happens to be laden with flowers, delicate and exploding with color.

It occurs to you that you’ve never been in a flower shop before. While the scent of the blossoms was overwhelming at first, your nose is steadily becoming accustomed to the sweetness that is nature coming to life. There’s no harm in taking a few more minutes here, you think as you take steps towards the table. You have to wait out the man outside anyway. And curiosity has always been one of your vices.

The flower that catches your eye is circular in shape; its oval, almost-spikey petals are dyed in a soft pink. It sits elegantly in its pot, a single floret amidst a bed of green. You reach out for it with a palm, not wanting to crush or ruin anything as you cradle it in your warmth. You don’t notice the soft smile waning your lips as you memorize its curves. You haven’t the slightest idea what kind of flower it is, but you can’t remember the last time you saw something this beautiful.

“I see you’re fond of the dahlia.”

“Oh!” Caught off guard by the sudden voice, your hand jerks up. The pot shakes violently from the sudden movement. It spins, wobbling over and—

“Whoa!” All you see is a flash of dark hair and flying clothes as the speaker hurtles towards you. He catches the pot just as its about to tip over. Then he sets it back onto the counter. “Phew... That was close.” He’s squatting, tall enough to still comfortably reach the pot as he gives the dahlia a light pat.

“Sorry! I’m sorry.” You hide both hands behind your back, not wanting to accidentally ruin anything else.

In response, he offers you a dimpled smile that does the opposite of setting your heart at ease. “No worries. I’m sorry I scared you. Are you alright?” He stands up, faces you.

“Yes, I’m fine. But is the flower okay? The, uh, dahlia?” You’re trying your best not to stare, but that’s a difficult task when he goes to brush his bangs back, taut arm muscles shifting along with it. His outfit is simple, a white tee and black jeans, with a stained black apron thrown overtop, but there’s something oddly attractive about it.

“She’s fine too.” There’s a fondness when he stares at the bloom, a tenderness that makes you feel more like the intruder you are in this precious space. “She’s been giving me trouble during growth so I’m a bit overprotective. Haven’t you, girl?” He chuckles lightly at himself, covering his lips with his palm as if he’s embarrassed.

“That’s cute,” you blurt out before you can help yourself.

“Is it?” That makes him smile again, and you swear your cheeks flush. He makes sure the dahlia is secure before he looks back at you. You follow his eyes as they rake across your outfit, taking in the formal dress and diamonds. “It can’t be comfortable walking around in that all day. Me, I prefer jeans over heels.” He laughs, and you can’t help joining him.

“No, no, I was at an event.”

“Oh, at the hotel?” You raise your eyebrows, not expecting him to know of it. “A few people came in to buy bouquets and wreaths for it earlier.”

“Ah, right. I remember seeing them. They’re beautiful. You did a fantastic job.”

“Thanks.” You’re beginning to realize it makes him shy to receive compliments, from the way he breaks your gaze to stare distractedly at the dahlia with lightly pinking cheeks. “So, why aren’t you there now?”

“I can’t stand those kinds of events.” It’s not technically a lie. “They’re always boring.”

“Why do you go then?”

“...Family obligation.” You cut this line of questioning short by focusing on another flower, this one multiple spheres of small purple blossoms. “What’s this one?”

“Oh, that one? It’s a hydrangea. If you look here...” He continues to talk as he closes the distance. A scent like fresh linen and soap cuts through the floral perfume, a summer’s day at its most stereotypical but you find yourself drawing closer for more. There’s something so soothing about his voice and the love weaved into every syllable as he gushes about the flower. Yet, you don’t even know his name. And it should stay that way for your safety, and for his.

When he takes an elongated pause for breath, you realize enough time has probably passed. You don’t see the NIS agent outside any longer, and the best course of action is to make your way back home as swiftly as possible.

Yet you find yourself asking, “why do you love flowers so much?”

He looks taken aback, like he wasn’t expecting the question. Then excitement glows in his warm eyes. “Stop me if I’m rambling too much, okay?” He smiles as if he already knows you have no such inclination. “At first, I was interested because there’s something so satisfying about watching a plant grow. About raising it from a tiny seedling or rescuing it from dying.” He reaches for a nearby pair of scissors to lightly trim off some greenery. “But the more I learn about nature and flowers, the more fascinated I am with how much they really understand and silently absorb from us.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, for example, if you talk to a plant every day, it’ll grow much better than a plant left in silence.”

You look absolutely bewildered. “Really? That can’t be true. There’s no way they understand us.”

“It is!” He’s becoming more and more elated as he talks, his entire face brightening at your inquiry. “Research has proven it. And I know the latest tech in 2105 is that self-watering, self-growing planter but I think that’s all bull. Those flowers will never grow as beautifully as these ones. Plants are just like pets, or people. They need care, affection, and interaction too.”

“Hm. I’ve never thought about it that way.” You’ve never thought about flowers at all before today, actually. But his smile and clear enthusiasm is infectious, making one of your own bloom on your lips. “I think you might just be right.”

Before either of you can say anything else, your phone buzzes. A succession of three pulses, like the quick-quick-slow of a dangerous tango. “Sorry,” you mumble, grin faltering as you pull out your com. Come back. Now. Three short words spell your doom. You let it fall into your purse, keeping neutrality on your face even though there’s disappointment in your heart. “Um, I should get going. It’s getting late.”

“Right.” Is it your imagination or does he look just as upset to let you go? “Wait, just a second. Let me give you something. A gift for letting me talk all over you.”

“Uhh, no, that’s alright. I was happy to listen.”

“Please. I insist.” He disappears for a few moments behind the shrubbery to the back room.

You stare at the door, feeling your communicator and the words on its screen spurring you to leave right now. You just walk out the door, and this florist will never find you again. That’s the logical thing to do. ‘Never get attached’ is practically lesson number one. Right up there with ‘don’t accept anything from strangers.’ But you’ve already broken one rule today. What’s another?

“Here.” The man returns with a small cardboard box, the top flaps yet to be closed. You tilt your head, look inside to find a tiny plant with rounded petals, almost like a lotus, but swathed in dirt instead of water.

“What is this?” You take the box though, mimicking how he held it – like something precious.

“A succulent.”

“I really can’t—”

“Just take it. It reminds me of you and... I get the feeling you need it.” There’s that smile again, the one that makes your heart weak, its doors pliable. “Take good care of it. I know it’ll be safe with you.”

“Ahh, fine.” You fold up the box, feeling like you’re standing on the cusp of something wholly new and rather terrifying. You’ve never been responsible for another living thing before, even if this is just a plant. “Thank you.”

“Joon. I’m Joon. And you?”

You purse your lips. “...Dahlia.”

That makes Joon laugh, and you half-expect him to question you over the obvious pseudonym but he doesn’t. He just nods his head. “I hope I see you again, Dahlia.”

You’re not afraid to return his grin before you push out into the fresh air, knowing too well that this meeting will be your first and last.

“Where have you been?” The second you plunge into the darkness that is the underground headquarters, your arm is grabbed. The voice belongs to Taehyung, one of the members of the family. “Yoongi hyung is really angry.”

“Shit.” You hurry through the dimly-lit hallway, familiarity trumping illumination as you head towards the meeting room. “I didn’t know it was so late.”

Another body comes up to join you on the other side, this one belonging to one of your younger siblings, Jun. “Hey, what’s that?” He indicates at the box in your hands. “Food?” He grins with cheeky hope.

“No. Uh, can you put it in my room?” You pass it over to Taehyung, careful not to jostle it too much lest the small pot overturn. “It’s fragile, okay?”

“Mhm.” Taehyung nods, taking it from you.

Jun’s eyes soften with pity. “Good luck.”

You know you’re going to need every ounce of that luck as you continue on alone. Rounding the corner, you’re a few feet away from the dark door of Yoongi’s office. You gulp, desperate for any sort of excuse to delay your entrance, but you know that reckoning is inevitable.

You knock. Twice. Short raps before you let your hand fall.

When the door opens, it’s Hoseok that greets you instead of your brother. His face is somber, betraying no thoughts as he backs up to grant you entry. Yoongi utters your name like a curse as he pushes up abruptly from his chair. It rolls backwards, colliding with the wall to rattle before joining the tense silence that follows as you walk inside. “Where have you been?”

“Out for the mission.” You gesture at your dress.

“Oh, right, right. The mission.” Yoongi’s fist lands on the desk with a crash. His old-fashioned fountain pen jumps an inch to the right and you’re seconds away from doing the same. “The one you fucking failed.”

You stay silent, because that look in his electric eyes says he’s not done yet.

“Park Siyeon is on a private jet as we speak. She’s not coming back. Not for years. Tonight was the only chance we had and you let it go.” You want to shy away from the anger in his expression but he rounds the desk to trap you in his glare. “Why didn’t you kill her?” The question sits in the stale air; you can taste its bitterness on your tongue. “Why didn’t you complete one of the simplest jobs we’ve ever had?”

“She...”

“She, what?” Yoongi leans in. You can see Hoseok in your peripheral vision, but he's not about to intervene. “Speak up.”

“The files. The case files...” You squeeze your fingers until they ache. “They didn't say she was pregnant.” Right now, the truth is the only thing you have. You cling to it like a lifeline. But it’s going to be the thing that drowns you.

Yoongi stops, as if frozen on a screen. You actually see mirth seep into his eyes, false as it is. “Pregnant? She’s pregnant?” His bark of laughter rings out like a bullet. It makes you jolt back, instinctively needing distance before-- "Who the fuck CARES if she’s pregnant? You had one task. One fucking task and you just cost us three hundred. Million. Won."

"B-But it's just money, Yoongi." Your hands twist together as you cast a look at Hoseok only to gain a frown of sympathy. "We can get it back with the next job, I promise! There'll be other contracts."

"Bullshit. Your promises mean nothing to me right now. We need the cash!" Yoongi scatters the stack of silver credits on his table with an angry swipe. "We need as much of it as we can goddamn get."

"Do we? Do we really?" You try to stand your ground, despite trembling legs. "We're all doing decently. Well, even! Isn't that enough, Yoongi?"

"No!" His voice surges. It’s an explosion in the taut space. "It's not enough! When will you understand it will never be enough if we want to be on top? Those damn Foxes have already been stealing clients and contracts from us, getting more powerful by the minute!"

"But when did it start being about who’s on top?” Frustration leaks through your every word as your pinned hair comes more undone by the second. “You never even told me why we have to kill Park Siyeon anyway! Is it really that important? What if she did nothing wrong? We have to punish her baby too?”

Yoongi makes a face so vicious that you know if you were anyone else, you’d already be violently punished. “We are not the police. We are not the fucking NIS. We’re assassins. It’s not our job to question why.” His voice has quieted but lost none of its intensity. You’d prefer the yelling. It’s this coolness that truly frightens you. “We just carry out the hit. And then we get paid.”

“But I—”

“I don’t have the time to argue with you anymore. Bottom line is, you fucked up the job. Again.” Yoongi pauses, inhales deeply. When he speaks next, he does so deliberately, enunciating every word. “If you fuck up one more time, you’re out of the family.”

“Wait, what?” You blink. “Yoongi, I’m your sister. Your blood sister, I—”

“Family is who you kill for. Family is who you die for. If you don’t understand that, then you’re out.”

He turns, forcing the conversation to come to an end even though you’re far from done.

Your voice trembles. “The NIS. They were there tonight too. They looked like they knew that someone, like they knew I, was going for Siyeon. If I had done anything...” You don’t even wait for an answer before you whirl on your heel. “Maybe I should have just let them take me.”

You steel yourself, managing to keep your head high as you stalk out of the room. Your pace quickens as you speed towards your room, heart pounding in your ears. You crave sanctuary, somewhere you can just wilt without witnesses. Somewhere along the way, you started sprinting. You don’t stop until you burst through your door.

Off go the shoes. Then the purse, tossed onto the floor. You unravel the rest of the bun, let your locks fall freely, haphazardly. Your fingers claw at the zipper of the expensive dress, uncaring if some seams are ripped apart in the process. You just need to get out of this. Out of this constricting fabric and out of this makeup and out of all of this.

The dress collapses into a puddle around the shoes. It’s joined by your bra, then the thin knife taped to your thigh. Your heart thrums, pulsing like a livewire that causes jitters to spark beneath your skin and they won’t stop, they won’t calm down because your mind is just as much of a mess as your breath and—

You spot the box when you whirl around to grab an old t-shirt.

A tiny box, inconspicuously perched on top of your cabinet. You pull the shirt on as you walk towards it, prying open the top like a gift even though you already know what’s inside. A succulent. Sitting delicately at the bottom, its teal leaves are gentle, soft.

With great care, you lift it out of its cardboard cradle. You force yourself to inspect it, your trembling hands stilling more with each ounce of care you pour into the action. You remember Joon, with his soft voice and kind eyes.

“Um... Hi?” You mumble at the pot, feeling a bit silly. You pat one of its leaves, and it wobbles a bit to the side. “Hi. Guess you’re mine now.” Of course, there’s no reply. But there’s something oddly cathartic about this whole process nonetheless.

Before you can do anything else, you hear three quick raps at your door.

“Come in.”

You know it’s Hoseok even before his face appears. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

You manage a sort of shaky half-smile, meant to put that worried look on his face at ease. It doesn’t work. “Can I stay for a bit?” He asks, already settling himself on your bed.

“Yeah. Always.” You join him, the bed creaking under your weights.

“Boss was pretty hard on you.”

“He’s right though. I failed the job. I cost us a lot of money. I knew that when I walked away.” You stare at your hands. “But when I saw how happy she was... And the baby... I just couldn’t do it.” Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. “Isn’t that pathetic? That lately, I can’t do something that I’ve been doing all my life?”

Hoseok says nothing. He just wraps his arm around you, lets his warmth and cologne comfort you.

“Hoseok, it... It never used to be about the money.” You have no qualms taking out a corrupt politician or a criminal set free by a failed system. What laws cannot govern, you take into your own hands. But just a few weeks ago, it was a nameless father whose life you ended. And it was that father whose three-year-old you spared, leaving a potential witness. Yoongi had found out about that too. Before the father, it was an inventor, a professor, an heiress. All these people. And you were given no reason for their demise. Only promises of deep pockets and the jingle of ill-gotten credits.

“I know.” Hoseok squeezes you tighter. “But we do as we’re told. Those are the rules. Those have always been the rules of being a Nightingale. You, of all people, know it best.” He frowns. “Besides... We can never escape death in this world. If we don’t kill, someone else will. That’s the way it goes.”

You bite your lip. You don’t think that’s good enough of a reason, but there’s truth behind it. Exhale. “You’re right, Hoseok. This family... You guys are all I have. You’re what’s important. I can’t lose you.” You’re not related by blood except to Yoongi, but they’ve been with you since you were barely two feet tall.

“Then you know what you have to do.” Hoseok’s eyes harden. “This is the legacy we have to uphold. Family is—”

“Who you die for,” you finish. “Yeah.”

“And for what it’s worth... We didn’t know about the NIS. There were no signs that they planned to be there, and no information leaked. Yoongi would never have sent you in if he knew about them.”

“I-I know. But these jobs just keep getting riskier. Our chances of getting caught keep going up and I’m worried that...” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. “Anyway, thank you, Hobi.” You slip easily into the childhood nickname you created when you first met him, when you were five and him a couple years older. When you knew nothing of this dark world, and he already knew too much. “Truly.”

Hoseok holds you for a few seconds more before he lets go. “I still have to scout a location tonight, so I can’t stay any longer. Are you going to be okay? Should I get Tae or Jun to keep you company?”

Instinctively, your eyes flicker to the succulent on the dresser. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for checking in on me.”

Hoseok follows your gaze. “That’s new,” he chuckles. “Never pegged you for a gardener. But alright. Whatever works, as long as you feel better.” He stands, pats your head. “Don’t forget to water it!”

You summon the strength to smile back. “I won’t.”

It is two weeks before you are sent on another contract, though you’re certain it is only because you are the sole member of the family with the right appearance and time for the job. Still, it’s a sign that Yoongi’s irritation with you is lessening with the passage of time.

Tonight, the plan is a seduction, leading to a sudden, fatal ‘heart attack’ in a locked hotel room.

You sip on a glass of wine as you watch the target pull up and park his car outside the bar. He looks like an average man in every sense of the word, a suit in tie corporate drone, and you wonder who would pay to have him gone. The ring on his finger glints in dull gold. His shiny oxfords look well polished, expensive. You finish the last dregs of your drink, setting the long-stemmed glass on the counter as he enters the bar. You compose your mask. Time to make the approach.

Hours later, the job is completed. Your escape is safely secured and executed. Everything has gone to plan. You return to headquarters with a desperate wish for a scalding shower because you feel utterly disgusted. Chiefly by the haste in which the target followed you into the hotel, then with how he made for you with his ring-clad hands without a trace of hesitation. Finally, it was how eager he had looked when you flashed him a bit of skin to distract him from the needle.

You need to wash the feel of him off. But first, you have a report to make.

“Yoongi, the job is done.”

Yoongi looks up from his computer. “Good.” He’s buried back in the work for about a second before he locks eyes with you again. “You okay?” Maybe he’s caught on to how much paler you look.

But what can you say? You just end up nodding, a few curt dips of your head. “Fine.” You close the door firmly shut behind you as you leave.

Back in the safety of your own room, you let the fatigue wash over you. Each contract seems to take more and more out of you, no matter how easy the actual task is. “Do it for the family,” you remind yourself as you strip from your dress. Each job fulfilled just solidifies the Nightingales’ position further, ensures that you will prosper for the years to come. This is bigger than you. This is what you have to do.

After the relief of a hot shower, you change into dark jeans and a hoodie.

As is your new nightly routine, you pad through headquarters in sneakers, making your way upstairs to the ‘house’ parts of the space that act as camouflage towards the rest of the public. You’ve been moving the succulent between these two worlds every day, for you figure it needs sun that your basement room cannot offer. But you can’t seem to sleep without it at night, without the comfort that there’s something growing, thriving in life just a few feet away.

“Time for your watering.” You fill a small cup with water, dousing the succulent until its soil is pooling, collecting the excess liquid before it sinks in. You watch the dirt suckle at sustenance, lips twisting into wistfulness. Joon was right again. Something about sustaining a life tugs so fondly at the pit of your stomach. “I’m sorry,” you end up whispering, an apology that the family of tonight’s target will never hear. You pour another splash of water in.

It is when you pick up the pot that you realize something is off.

The leaves on the side facing away from you are puffy. You capture one petal lightly between your fingers, but its squishy where it once was hard and sturdy. “Lights on, 80%.” You’re stunned when the room floods with light and the succulent’s once teal color has yellowed, becoming almost translucent. “What the...” When you nudge a leaf aside to check on the ones at the bottom, it falls clear off.

Even with your limited plant knowledge, this is one thing you can diagnose too well. It’s dying.

He trusted it to you and now it’s dying.

Strange, overwhelming panic douses you like a bucket of ice water. Instinctively, you grab a tote bag, nestling the plant inside. You swing the straps over your shoulder, one hand placed on the pot to ensure it won’t shake too much as you rush out the door. Your destination: the quaint flower shop you swore you’d never visit again.

It isn’t until you’re standing right outside the flower shop that you realize it’s half past ten, and no reasonable person would still be at work. All the shops around you are closed, neon signs turned off for the night. The streetlights blinking red and green and the cars flying over your head are the only illumination. You should probably just go home.

But you’ve come all this way. And your succulent needs saving.

Stubbornness and panic dictate you peer inside the glass door. The plants that are normally decorating the storefront have already been brought in for the night; they obscure your vision, but you think you can just faintly make out a light in the back.

You knock, biting your lip as you wait. When there’s no answer, you knock again, harder this time. Please. Please be here.

It’s another minute before a familiar face appears through the plants like a woodland spirit. You step back as the door swings open. “Hi, sorry, we’re closed...” Joon’s sweet eyes meet yours; recognition flickers. “Oh. Dahlia?”

You don’t blame him for the question mark. The last time you saw each other, you had a full coat of makeup on. Right now, you’re bare faced and a sweaty mess. “You’re still here!” you breathe in relief.

“You okay? Come in.” You follow him into the maze of flowers. “What’s wrong?”

You wipe away the perspiration coalescing on your forehead with a sleeve. “The plant. The succulent. I messed up somehow, I must have...” You’re almost ashamed to show him the pot, but you unwrap it from the bag. He takes it gingerly to place it on the counter, before crouching down beside it. “I’m really sorry! I’ve been trying to give it sun and water and I’m even talking to it, but it’s just...”  Your babble trails off as he inspects the leaves, then touch a finger to the soil. The poor succulent looks even more sickly in this light. “I know you’re closed. I just didn’t know where else to go.”

When Joon looks at you next, he’s smiling so softly it stirs your heart. “Don’t worry about it. I’m usually here working late anyways.” He straightens, dusts off his apron. “And the succulent is just overwatered.”

“Overwatered?” You repeat, incredulous. “Plants can be overwatered?” You were under the impression of the more the better.

Your surprise makes his eyes crinkle with a chuckle. “Yup, they can be. Especially succulents. They’re used to much drier climates. It’s my bad, really. I should have given you better instructions.”

“So... it’s not dead, then?”

“No, just weakened. If you dial back the watering and let it stay in the sunlight, it’ll become nice and healthy again. Don’t worry, it’s a good thing it’s summer! This little guy will recover quickly.”

“Wow... Thank god...” Your tired muscles finally relax as you lean against the counter, relief spreading through your veins. You never could have imagined feeling this way about a plant of all things, but there’s no denying that it’s become a sort of companion to you in the last few weeks. The only thing that listens without demanding, without commanding.

An adorable, low-toned chuckle makes you turn your head to him; Joon is all dimples with a grin so wide it makes you bashful. “Now who’s the one that’s all cute, fretting over a plant?” He doesn’t seem shy now, keeping the eye contact between you so steady you’re afraid he can see right through you.

“I just panicked, okay?” You mumble, playing with an errant lock of hair as you feel a heat on your cheeks. You wish he’d stop staring. “It’s my first time taking care of anything like this. Ugh, I really should have at least looked it up online or something. It was careless of me.”

“Well, don’t beat yourself up about it. Your heart was in the right place.” Joon pats the succulent fondly. “This isn’t easy.”

“No, it sure as hell isn’t.”

He laughs, his easy, pure-hearted mirth addictive. “You can ask me for help anytime. I live in the apartment above the shop, so I’m usually around. But try not to come out so late! It’s not safe. You never know what’s out there in the dark.”

The weight of the hidden blade taped to the back pocket of your jeans reminds you that you know perfectly what secrets the shadows hold. “Right. Thanks.”

Joon turns back to your succulent, snipping away a curled leaf you hadn’t even noticed was there. “Had a long day at work?” He asks.

“Mm, something like that.”

“What do you do, anyway?” It’s a casual question, but it sends you for a spin. Thankfully, he’s too focused on doing something to the soil to notice how you tense. “Definitely nothing to do with gardening, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “No... I’m in the family business.”

“Do you like it?”

It’s clear nobody could love their job as much as Joon does. You know you should lie to him, but somehow that makes you uncomfortable when he’s always been straightforward and honest with you. “It’s alright, I guess. I never really thought about doing anything else.”

“Why not?” Joon cocks his head to a side. “I mean, I know family obligations are strong, but it’s your life. You should live it how you choose.” He grimaces. “Not to be preachy or anything.”

“... It’s complicated. But my family needs me. Even though we may yell at each other or want to bite each others’ heads off, they’re still all I have.” You bite your lip. “And I owe them everything.”

“But what do you want?”

You stare blankly at Joon, mind searching for words that only come up muddled. When is the last time someone asked you that? All the letters, the languages that you speak yet there’s nothing coherent enough to be sent out on your heavy tongue. You’re barely aware your hands have clenched into fists, nails carving crescents into your palm. You don’t even realize you’ve begun to hold your breath.

Then your com buzzes.

[11:01pm] hoseok: where are u?

“Everything okay?” Joon asks as you shake yourself out of your stupor after reading the text on the tiny screen. Reality calling yet again.

“Yeah! Yeah. Sorry. I was just...” You slide the com into your pocket. You give an awkward laugh, not sure who you’re trying to convince more, yourself or him. “Anyway, I should get going. I shouldn’t be keeping you here this late.” You throw a glance towards the door.

“Hah, you had to leave early last time too. Are you Cinderella?”

“Can’t let my jeans turn back into a pumpkin. Is that how it goes?” You smile, turning back for your succulent. You weren’t expecting Joon to be right beside you. He’s standing so close you can feel his warmth, smell the scent that makes you think of home. Not yours, but what you always imagined the magazine depictions would be like in your childhood.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’d look adorable as a jack-o-lantern,” he murmurs. Those sweet midnight eyes could hold a galaxy’s worth of stars within them, but tonight, they reflect only you.

...You could kiss him right now. It would be so simple for you to touch those gentle lips with your own and leave a trace of yourself behind in this oasis forever. But you know better than that.

Taking the succulent from his hand, you force yourself to walk to the door. At it, you bow, grateful for how he’s saved the life of the plant, grateful for how he listened to you ramble, grateful for him. “Goodnight, Joon.”

His eyes sparkle. “See you soon, Dahlia.” You don’t, can’t, respond.

It isn’t until you get home that you discover he slipped a dart of hardened paper into the pot, hiding just beside a petal. When you unfold it, ten numbers in raven ink stare back at you. And at the end, a single word: Anytime.

“Ugn! Hah! Yah!”

Sweat drips in rivulets down your forehead as you slam your glove-wrapped fists into a punching bag. You relish the bite of the friction, the soreness in your muscles as you whip around and kick the side to a satisfying thwap. Evening training has always been your favorite. Especially these days, when your body feels like one of the only things you have control over. Well, your body and the cute succulent you’ve named Moon.

“Hey, boss called a meeting!” Hoseok’s voice blares out just as you land another hook on the abused sandbag. He pokes his head into the training room, his expression carefully neutral.

You lower your fighting stance. “Okay. I’ll be right there.” You peel the moist gloves off your hands. Why a meeting? Weird.

When you walk out of the room and into the common area, the familiar faces of your family are already gathered. All fifteen of them look nervous as they mumble amongst themselves, probably trying to guess what this is about. You fill the open space between Hoseok and Taehyung. Yoongi stands at the head of the room, inspecting documents.

“Where’s Jun?” You quietly ask Taehyung.

“Mission.”

“Okay.” Yoongi straightens, drops the papers on the table before him. “Listen up, Nightingales. I’m sure you’ve noticed that we’ve been losing contracts. To the Foxes.” He spits the name out like poison. “Those assholes have been taking what’s rightfully ours. The money that should be in our pockets. I found out today that we were passed over for the assassination of that visiting VP of GCF Industries.”

“Shit.”

“Shit is right.” Yoongi paces a few feet before he whips his cold eyes to behold his brothers and sisters. “We have to do better. We have to be faster. But we still have to be careful. As if the Foxes aren’t enough of a pain in my ass, the NIS have been poking their noses where it doesn’t belong again.” Yoongi rests a strained hand on the table. “If any of you are caught by them...” His gaze finds yours.

Slam!

The sound of a door being violently thrown open makes all your heads snap up.

Within seconds, Taehyung’s off, his lazer pistol in hand. You’re right behind him, extracting your switchblade. Nobody would be stupid enough to attempt an infiltration of your headquarters. But lately nothing surprises you.

This long hallway seems to go on forever.

You can’t see what’s right in front of you. Taehyung’s form blocks the bulk of your vision, but you trust him to be your eyes. You focus on silencing your steps.

“Jun!”

When you pool into the foyer, Taehyung bolts forward like a bullet. “Jun! Shit!”

You see the puddle of blood first. Then you see Jun at the foot of the stairs, clutching at his leg. His top is stained dark crimson, his breathing too haggard. That sweet face is contorted in pain, as if living itself hurts him more than anything else.

Rushing to the wall, you smash the hidden switch for the secret cache. You’re not going for the weapons, but instead the first aid kit. You drag the whole bag to Jun’s side. Immediately, you inspect the wound. A deep slash scars his thigh. Your thoughts sharpen into hyperfocus: you have to stop the bleeding.

“What the hell happened?” Yoongi bursts into the room, eyes blazing. “Jun?!”

Jun automatically tries to push himself up a little further. He’s so earnest, always trying to impress Yoongi, even at a time like this. It almost makes you smile. “Foxes... Park J-Jimin...” Jun takes huge shuddering inhales. You try to shush him, to tell him to conserve his strength, but he shakes his head. “Client must’ve given them the same contract. I got in his way so...” He waves a hand over his wound. “Fuck, that really... hurts...”

“No shit, you got stabbed!” You spit out as you clean the wound. Your hands are trembling because the energy is draining from Jun’s usually bright eyes.

“Let me do it,” Hoseok says, taking over. You acquiesce.

“Fuck!” Yoongi slams his fist into a wall. When his hand comes away, his knuckles are scraped and bloody. He hardens his jaw, clamping down so aggressively on his lip you’re afraid you’ll have to treat him next. “Fuck...!” For a moment, just a flicker of a second, you think you see the brother you once knew. Fearful, uncertain, worried.

But Min Yoongi, head of the Nightingales, is back just as soon as he was gone. “You. And you.” He points at Taehyung, then, surprisingly, at you. “Tomorrow... Tomorrow, you two have a hit to do.”

“On who?” You’re bewildered that he’s still thinking about contracts at a time like this. “Can’t we talk about this later?”

“On that Park Jimin’s girlfriend. The one he thinks he’s kept hidden from all of us.”

“W-What?” You stutter in surprise, almost biting your tongue. “Why her?”

“You have to teach him a lesson. You have to teach him not to fuck with us. There are consequences for taking our hits. And hurting our men.”

If Jimin’s hiding his girlfriend, she has to be a civilian. An innocent. One who just happened to fall in love with the wrong man. “No, Yoongi, I’m not going to take his girlfriend out! There are other ways to send a message.”

“No, there aren’t. So just listen for once and do as I say.”

No, no, you’re not getting this go without a fight. Even if you have to resort to a low blow, a gutter punch. “Mom and dad would have never—”

“Mom and dad are gone!” Yoongi actually draws blood when his teeth sink into his lip this time. “They left the family to me. And I’ll be damned if I let it die in my hands!”

You fling yourself to your feet. “You’ve gone too far, Yoongi! Min Yoongi!”

“Just take a look at Jun and tell me if it’s too far.”

You don’t have to look. You don’t think you’ll ever forget Jun’s face, losing color by the second.

“Or what? Are you going to wait until they kill one of us next?”

Yoongi turns his back on the silence he’s created. You watch him stalk out, shoulders slightly hunched, cradling his bruised fist. It’s a sight you’ve become familiar with after all these years. But for the first time, it’s like staring at an utter stranger.

“I’m sorry you had to come.” Taehyung’s voice is doused in pity. “I could have done this alone.”

“No, you need backup just in case. And besides... Yoongi gave me the order.” In the darkness of your hiding spot, you offer Taehyung a tight smile. “I’m doing this for Jun.”

“I know.” Taehyung turns his attention back to the tiny, obscure café across the street, where Park Jimin’s girlfriend has the closing shift every Tuesday night. You had to travel quite a bit outside the city to get out here. He really tried to hide her well, though he should have known it could come to this one day.

The plan is straightforward. You are to approach when she is alone, and you are to activate the fast-acting poison that has none of the subtleties of the heart-attack mimic. No, this poison is one specially developed by the Nightingales. The traces of it left behind will let Jimin and the rest of the Foxes know exactly who carried out the hit. And they’ll ensure the police don’t catch a whiff of this, lest it be traced back to them.

You watch the girlfriend wave goodbye to her coworker with a sunny smile. “We’ll wait one more minute, then we’ll go,” you say. She’s already begun pulling the blinds down for the night.

“Okay.”

There are two exits to the café, which bodes well for escape. You and Taehyung, arm in arm, looking like a picturesque couple, take the one to the right when you enter. You pretend to be taking in the quaint décor, but you’re actually scoping out any potential hazards, any signs that the Foxes have put protective methods in place. You don’t see anything. Did Jimin hide her from his family too?

“Hello! Welcome!” She greets you both, grinning widely. “Sorry, we’re closing in a few minutes, but I can still help you until then.”

You force yourself not to look at the nametag pinned to her apron, because you don’t want to know. You don’t want to remember. Instead, you squeeze Taehyung’s arm twice before letting go. All clear. You hope he also gets the message to do this quickly.

“Thanks. Could you tell me about this cake here...this one in the display?” Taehyung chooses a dessert that’s not so easily seen from behind, forcing her to come around the other side. While she’s distracted, you flip the open sign to closed.

“Of course!” She leans down, bending to see what cake Taehyung’s referencing.

She never sees it coming, but you do. The quick flash of a silver needle.

“Ow!�� A gasp. A squeal. Her doe eyes widen as she jerks back and stumbles.

You swallow guilt with a dry throat. “Let’s go,” you harshly whisper, grabbing Taehyung’s hand. You don’t want to stay here any longer than you have to. He nods.

You’re about to take the second exit when the door chime jingles again. Shit. A customer?

“Honey? Surprise!”

A voice that’s full of love rings out just as the woman crumples to her knees.

“What... What the hell?!”

The person that enters, you’ve only seen once before. Park Jimin. But you might as well be seeing him for the first time. Anger corrupts his face when he recognizes you. When he realizes who the hell you are.

“Nightingales!” He growls, his blade in his hand in an instant. You reach for your own knife, shifting into a defensive crouch. You’re sure he’s going to rush you. Certain he’s going to do whatever it takes to sink his own silver into your flesh in another twisted cycle of retribution. You wouldn’t blame him for it.

Jimin takes five steps and falls beside her. His weapon clatters to the ground.

He reaches for the woman with desperate hands, cradles her close against his chest with a rough fragility, a brutal elegance. “No,” he sobs. “No, no...” It’s a wail. A carnal howl that claws at your shattering soul.

“Please, stay with me.” He’s dropping desperate kisses against her forehead, against her cheeks, anywhere he can reach as if to capture the last remaining warmth in her veins. But her hazy eyes refuse to focus. Refuse to acknowledge his existence even with the tears he weeps on her paling skin. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please...!”

“Let’s go!” Taehyung’s yell yanks you back. He forces you out the door. Even though Jimin makes no effort to give chase, you’re running as soon as you hit the cool night air, sprinting at full speed towards the hidden car. You need to get as far away from this place as possible. As if that could make you forget.

You shiver in the front seat as Taehyung speeds away. This. This is why you’re taught never to stay. Never to see the aftermath. Because ignorance is such sweet bliss and now even that’s been ripped from you. And it’s your own damn fault.

It is no wonder you cannot find comfort in sleep later that night.

You don't deserve it. You're haunted by the images imprinted in your mind, stubborn and too real. You can feel the weight of them crushing your heart but you're more afraid of who you'd be if it weren't there at all.

The hour has stretched past midnight, and you are no closer to relief. Sick of staring at the concrete of your ceiling, you turn to a side. Catch sight of the space where your plant usually sits, except you've forgotten it tonight in your haste to bolt into bed. But your communicator sits nice and handy bedside.

Before you can stop yourself, you're thumbing through the screen for a certain number saved beneath the sole symbol of a leaf. And by the next second, you're calling it.

Brrrrng.

You should probably hang up.

Brrrrng.

Your breath is coming quicker.

Brrrrng.

It's almost two in the morning, he's not going to--

Click.

"Hello?"

The comfort that floods you is instantaneous, palpable.

"It's me," you say, before realizing that's not helpful at all. "Dahlia. I'm sorry, I know it's late..."

"Dahlia." He breathes the word. It's not even your name, but there's such a fondness in his tone that you can't help but flush. "I said anytime. I meant it. What's up?"

"...Can I come over?" You end up asking. "You can say no."

"I'm unlocking my door right now."

"Thank you."

"Thank me when you get here, yeah?" You can hear the smile on his lips.

It takes your hasty steps and a short Skytrain ride to deposit you in front of the floral shop less than twenty minutes later. There's a strange sort of anticipation, a thrill humming beneath your skin that makes you more and more nervous with each step you climb, up the stairs that lead to Joon's front door. Just as he promised, you find it unlocked.

It still feels like you’re intruding, even though he gave you permission. But you forage ahead. You knock on the door after you close it behind you to announce your arrival. Then you turn to catch your first glimpse of Joon’s apartment amidst the dim, muted lights.

It’s a simple space, sparser than you would have imagined. But the warm, earthy colors of the wooden coffee table, the couch, come as no surprise. The only decorations that Joon seems to have are plants, in all shapes and sizes as they scatter across every open counter, flourishing and well-nourished with their crisp greens and exploding scarlets. And among them, he stands, tipping a mini watering can over a succulent.

“Dahlia.”

“Hi.”

The light casts shadows over his handsome face, over the full lips you force yourself not to stare at. The white shirt and grey sweatpants fit his lean frame nicely, though you’re not sure if the top is half-tucked out of fashion or carelessness. “Is it too dark?” He asks.

“No,” you murmur, “it’s perfect.”

Joon sets the can down. He washes his hands as you inspect a nearby purple bloom. Then he beckons to you with a hand like one would a stray cat as he pads to the sofa in his slippers. “Come, sit. I made tea, if you drink that.”

“Sure.” You peel off your shoes.

You’re not quite sure what you’re doing here, really. But when you join him on the couch, when take your first sip of hot tea surrounded by his scent, overwhelming normality hits you. A feeling that’s familiar yet so foreign all at once. Like some ancient crevice inside you is being filled.

“Dahlia.” He waits for the tea to spread its way through your veins, heating your chilled system before he calls your attention to him. To him and to the doleful eyes that always behold you with such care. “What happened?”

“It’s just... Family stuff again. I know, I’m a broken record.” You pull your legs up onto the couch and rest your cheek on your knees. “But I just had to get out of there. I couldn’t sleep.”

You take Joon’s silence as encouragement to go on.

“It’s not like they were trying to hurt me.” Yoongi’s face floats in your mind. How ashen he’d looked when he saw Jun. How the doctor said he’d visited the infirmary more than a handful of times over the course of a single day. “They try to do what’s right for everyone. I just... I don’t agree sometimes.”

“You don’t?”

“No. And I don’t think I ever will. Not with some things.” You let your eyes trace the lines of the floorboards. “But that doesn’t matter, in the end. What matters is that I do as they say. For the good of everyone. How I feel about it... That’s just my problem.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

A small exhale that’s almost laughter escapes you. If only he knew. “No, to me, family... Family is who you die for.”

“But if they care for you, if they love you,” he whispers, “wouldn’t they want you to live?”

Your tongue finds naught but silence in response; you make no move to rectify that. The truth is, you don’t dare to search your mind for the answer. Like how a child fears what might lay beyond a closet door, beneath a four-frame bed. Not the monster itself, but the possibility.

“Dahlia.” You can’t bear to meet his eyes, to accept the intensity within their dark depths. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it’s the knowledge that you don’t have to lie for once, to say that you’re fine. Maybe it’s that Joon doesn’t need you to be strong or stoic. Or maybe you’re just tired of it all. But that question, so plain, so easy, is what breaks you.

You fight the sobs that surface, swallow them down with each stuttered breath. You have absolutely no right to let the tears fall, damn it. No right when they belong to Jimin as his grief, his sorrow. But still they choke you like hands wrapped tightly around your throat. Squeezing, squeezing until they’ve stolen every last vestige of oxygen from your exhausted lungs.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you babble brokenly, closing in on yourself as if that would make you disappear.

You feel the weight of the sofa cushion next to you as Joon reaches for you, wraps his arms around you for the first time. Warmth. All-encompassing warmth that could rival the sun that you’ve spent so long hiding from. “Don’t be sorry. Never be sorry.”

Now you give yourself to the heat, let it melt away the fatigue that drips down your face as salty droplets of rain. You can’t recall the last time you let yourself cry, and in front of someone else, nonetheless. But now you can’t imagine why you’ve held yourself back, not when every tear you shed eviscerates another burden, at least until you’re made to leave this sanctuary. But for now, in this blessed now, you just let go. You memorize the rhythm of his breath against your skin, and you let go.

When you finally muster the courage to meet his eyes with your own, red-rimmed and watery, he just smiles. It’s a gentle smile to reassure you, and tell you that he can withstand anything. “I’m here for you,” he says without decorum, just a plain stating of fact as if anything else would be a ridiculous notion.

And before you can control yourself, you’re kissing him.

He’s so soft, lips tasting like oolong tea and promise as you drag him closer with hands carded through his hair. You shift. Your feet hit the floor in a bid to remove any obstacle between you. Why haven’t you done this before? Your mouths come together like miscolored puzzle pieces, never meant to belong but somehow sliding into place all the same for a perfect fit despite logical reasoning. He groans into the kiss, a delicious noise that stirs at your heart.

Here, you feel something different. Something so terrifyingly visceral that you can only describe it as being alive.

You want more.

But Joon is already pulling back, guilt in his expression. “No, Dahlia, you’re upset, we shouldn’t—”

“Please, Joon.”

He is the one secret that is yours, and only yours. That knowledge alone makes you want to be irrefutably selfish. Because you know damn well that he’ll let you. You know by fleet gallop of his heart and by the arms that hold you like precious blades of nightshade, blooming silently in this pensive dark. “You asked me what I want before,” you mumble against his lips, cupping his cheeks in your calloused palms. “It’s you.”

You can no longer register the tears that roll down your face for he whisks them away with his thumbs. All you want to focus on is the feel of him against you, his hands sliding down to find your waist. There’s a clumsiness to how he acquaints himself with your body, but you find it utterly charming. Nibbling on your bottom lip, he coaxes the first moan from your hoarse throat. You respond by tracing the outline of his mouth with the tip of your tongue, encouraging him to open and to let you in.

When he draws your hips towards him, you let yourself fall. Your back meets the plush couch, welcoming the weight of him on top. What you think is his cock presses fervently against your thigh, but he makes no move to seek his own relief. Instead, he trails his lips down your jaw, across the smooth column of your neck.

You pull him back to your mouth, seeking the warmth you’ve already become addicted to. Every kiss stokes the urgency in your veins further, turning it into an insatiable, impatient beast that cannot be reigned in. “More,” you exhale, afraid of what might come back if he stops. “Give me more, Joon.”

“More...?”

You guide his broad hand to the waistband of your terrycloth shorts. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?” He refuses to cross that barrier while he searches your eyes for hesitation. But he’ll find none. Only the desire to lose yourself in this moment and his touch.

“Completely.”

He swallows before he slides his hand inside for his first intimate contact. You arch into him when his fingers brush past your fabric-covered clit, testing the waters. That seems to give him confidence, as do the silken moans that drip from your tongue. He hungers for more, knowing every ounce of pressure he lavishes pushes you closer to the edge. Intentionally or not, the underwear becomes a kind of torture, dulling the friction of the fingertips you want against your bare skin.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice has dipped lower, gathered a husky quality that stirs you, rouses like no other. What poetry could that tongue could pen against your clit? “I’ve thought so from the first time you walked into my shop.”

“What if I never returned? You didn’t have my number.”

He chuckles. “I knew.” He nudges aside the cotton to find you soaked. “I knew you would come back.” He collects arousal with upward swipes, parting and teasing the petals of your lower lips until you can’t stand it any longer. You moan into his ear, feeling his hot breath brush against your neck in return.

“Liar.”

“You tell me.” And he plunges in a finger. Before you can become accustomed to the stretch, he adds another, curling ruthlessly against your walls. His digits are much longer than you thought as they fill you so, so well. You can only dream of how his cock must feel, but there’s no time for fantasizing when his thumb finds your clit again.

Even your shorts cannot staunch the soaked squelch of your cunt, made thoroughly subservient to his agile fingers. You haven’t any idea how he manages to find your sweet spot in seconds, dancing around only to suddenly zero in on it again. You’ve never been one for whimpering but it’s a natural reaction when he scissors in tandem with the relentless strokes. Every pump forces you closer and closer. All the while, his mouth makes love to your tongue, sucking hard as if to claim it as his.

You know you’re not going to last long.

Clinging to him, you scrunch his shirt in a tight fist as climax sweeps you away in its fury. You don’t know how noisy you are with the moans that burst forth, but you can’t control them. Can’t hold anything back as he thrusts through the pulse to elongate the high. Even your legs are trembling in their strain, but god, you’re purring with pure pleasure and delight.

When the peak finally wanes, it’s a tiredness that settles in, renders you immobile while you just let everything melt away. All your worries and stress that have built up seem to go along with it, a welcome change even if it’s only temporary. You just breathe him in, let his scent wrap you in ease.

He doesn’t push you further.

Perhaps he can tell that you are exhausted, not only in your muscles but your mind, weary of this long night and of thinking. Despite his own need, he just holds you until your breathing calms. Until you are truly spent, shuddering against him while the last throbs of your core peter out, but leave you so satisfied.

He wipes his fingers on a tissue then drops a kiss to your forehead. “Will you stay?”

You sigh. “No. I can’t.” You have to be home for the morning, before they discover you’re gone. In fact, you’re already probably late. Still, you take your time re-doing the tie on your shorts. “Joon... I’ll see you again.” Another rule now utterly broken. But one you don’t think you can bear to uphold any more anyways.

“Okay.” You don’t know if he recognizes that this is the first time you’ve promised a future possibility, but he smiles all the same. “I’d really like that.”

You stand, the soon-to-rise sun marking the end of this tryst. He walks you to the door, watches as you pull on your shoes. “Goodnight, Joon. Thank you for listening to me, again.” Your heart flutters as you can’t resist turning back for one last swift kiss on his full mouth. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight.” He leans against the frame, arms crossed, expression content as you start down the steps. “Be safe.”

From that night on, Joon becomes your most cherished secret, a treasure of which you are fiercely protective. For him, you slip the confines of your headquarters, of your family, and become simply Dahlia for a handful of hours. Dahlia, who is ironically more yourself than you have ever been. It’s a mask that you’ve grown comfortable in over the past three weeks; it and he are the only things that keep you sane through the contracts Yoongi sends your way.

“No, no, look there! See it?”

Lying on a picnic blanket, shoulder to shoulder, you follow the arm Joon points up at the midnight sky. “Mmm, nope. Still don’t.” You turn, snuggling into his side. “Just looks like stars to me.”

Joon turns too, but to plant a kiss on your cheek. Then he captures your fingers, laces them together with his own. “Here.” Raising your linked hands, he walks you through the trail his sleepy eyes have found. “They look like flowers, don’t they?”

You squint. “I guess... Is that even a constellation?”

“No.” Joon grins, never letting go of your hand. “I just wanted to give you a bouquet tonight.”

“How very on brand of you.”

Joon pops a grape into his mouth. “I’m always consistent, huh? Or maybe you just know me too well.”

“Not well enough, I don’t think.” That’s the truth. With Joon, you’d gladly become an encyclopedia of information, voracious for every tidbit you can uncover about him, about the entire world that he seems to treat with such fascination. Just last week you listened to him describe the allure of crabs with rapt enthusiasm. You, in turn, gushed about the facets of language, how interesting it was the way a tongue wrestled with a foreign sound and structure. Conversations that could go on for days but must end when the first rays of sun peep over the horizon.

“We’ll get there.” He holds up a grape to your lips.

“I hope so.” You open, drop a flirty kiss on his fingertips before biting into the exploding sweetness. “Let’s start with you telling me why you chose to go stargazing. Besides the opportunity to feed me fruit, that is.”

“Heh. While that has its own charms… I like to come out here at least once a month.” He runs fingers through his dark hair. “It reminds me that my problems aren’t as big as they appear to be. There are just so many stars and so many universes out there. It seems like a miracle I was even born in the first place. So, shouldn’t I try to shine the brightest before my time is up?”

You didn’t expect a less eloquent answer from him. You swallow his poetics, imagine them settling in the cavity of your chest, right next to your thudding heart. With wide eyes, you stare at the twinkling lights that wink at the two of you, wind-cooled and half-drunk on life. “I think I’m glad I was born in this galaxy,” you softly confide. Something you never thought you could feel. “In this world, that is.” In this world that has brought you to him.

Joon squeezes your hand as if he’ll never let go again. “Me too.”

You creep inside headquarters just as the sunlight begins to filter through the windows above ground. You’ve made it two feet past the stairs when a hand slaps down on your wrist. You whip your head towards it. You have the good sense to clamp your lips shut before any noise can betray you. A low voice mutters your name.

“Where have you been?” Taehyung’s eyes come into view in the darkness. They’re not filled with anger, but worry instead.

“Tae. Uh, I was scouting,” you lie. You hate to do it, but the truth is far too caustic to reveal. “It took longer than I thought.”

Taehyung’s fingers release you from the hold as he sighs. “Okay. You weren’t answering your com. So. I just. I got scared. Especially after…” He trails off, but you know what he means. It’s only now that Jun has really started to heal; the stab had been immensely deep, the blood loss great. But he had escaped with his life.

“I know. But I don’t think the Foxes have made any moves against us. And they probably don’t plan to. Not if it’ll lead to more death on both of our sides.” You can still recall Jimin’s face with startling clarity. It still comes to you in the depths of particularly quiet nights, when you are alone with your all-too-active thoughts. “Maybe we’ll be okay.”

Taehyung looks off into the darkness aside your ear. The gauntness in his eyes suggests he hasn’t been able to forget either. Biting his lip, he utters, “…I’m not so sure.”

You are so accustomed to seeing (your friend? your lover?) your Joon beneath the cover of night that it is almost startling when you run into him by pure chance a week later on your quest to fetch coffee. And to gather intel on a future target.

“Joon?”

He turns at the sound of your voice, face brightening with surprise, then delight. “Dahlia! What’re you doing here?”

“Just getting some coffee,” you say, holding up the cup. The target has settled in to eat his scone, so you have a few minutes. He’s practically beaming at you, and you imagine you look the same. You can’t seem to control the smiles around him. “You?” It’s then that you look beyond Joon and realize he’s sat at a table for two. There’s a young, bright-looking man on the other end, staring curiously at you. “Oh, sorry, I’ve interrupted you!”

“No, no, don’t worry, you haven’t. This is my friend.”

The man stands politely to offer you his hand with a sweet smile. Hm, he’s handsome, in an effortless, boyish way. “I’m JK. Nice to meet you.”

You take the hand, find his grip strong. “Are you a florist too?”

“Nah.” He sits back, relaxes in his seat again. “Personal trainer.”

Considering the muscles that bulge from beneath his dark t-shirt, it most definitely suits him. Maybe Joon catches you slightly ogling, because he cuts back into your field of vision with a subtle tilt. Too cute. He’s always cute, today especially in his blue jeans, a casual button-up thrown over top that’s just a little dressier than his usual tees. Impossible to resist.

“What are you doing later tonight?” You surprise even yourself by asking, but you seem to be riding on the instinct that you want to see more of him; this small run-in just reminds you of how much you’ve missed him in the past few days. Headquarters feels so empty when his presence is only in your mind, for you’ve been too busy even for your whispered midnight calls. Your outburst makes JK’s eyebrows raise in cheeky amusement.

“Well...” Joon ignores JK as a smile stretches across his plush lips, flashing you those dimples that have become your greatest weakness. “I usually go to the gym on Thursday nights with JK but...” He gives his companion a look. “I’ll stay in for you.” Joon trails his fingers lightly down your bare arm. “Why don’t you come over and I’ll try to make us dinner? Or order us takeout when I mess up the cooking?”

You laugh. “Okay. I’ll be by around eight?” The target has now scarfed down the scone, and is pushing up from his seat. Time to go.

“Perfect.” Joon gives your arm a last squeeze. “See you then.”

“See you. And nice to meet you!” You wave to JK before quickly turning away, feeling actually giddy, like the schoolgirl you never were. It feels like your first ‘official’ date instead of a stolen moment here and there. It feels like you’ve taken one huge step towards the realm of normalcy, something you thought was something outside your grasp. And you wouldn’t give that or Joon up for the world.

It is half past seven that night that you slip from your room, a dark trench coat pulled over the dress that you finally settled on after much agonizing. Normally around this time, most of your siblings are in the training room or in their rooms, working on their skills. Jun is among them now, recovering slowly but well. Yoongi has the habit of locking himself in his room immediately following dinner (or sometimes without it), so it shouldn’t be difficult for you to slip out. You’ve never left this early before, but you hate making Joon stay up so ridiculously late every time. You owe him at least this.

You chose flats tonight for the ease of movement. You move through the familiar halls silently, hurrying along because you are just too damn excited. You wonder what he’s attempted to make. Then you wonder what he ended up ordering after he burnt his attempt. Just the image of him standing over a smoking, charred pot puts a silly grin on your face.

“You’re heading out?”

“Eep.” You skid to a stop, emitting a noise of surprise. You turn to find Hoseok advancing from a side corridor, head tilted to a side. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Hoseok asks with a hint of a smile. “I just asked if you’re going out.”

“Oh. Yeah, I am. Just for a bit. Just… want to go for a walk and get some air. Clear my head.” Being with Joon does exactly that.

“Ah… Okay.” Hoseok doesn’t look too convinced, but that’s probably because you’ve never been one for walks. Usually, you prefer the sanctity of your room and the heaps of blankets. “I... won’t hold you any longer then.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

You hurry along, taking the steps up two at a time. You make sure to check on Moon before you leave. You give her a few ounces of water, watching with satisfaction as the soil eagerly accepts the liquid. “Grow up big and strong,” you say, eyes tender, full of hope.

You are unsurprised when a thin layer of smoke greets you from the cracks of Joon’s apartment when you get there almost right on the dot at eight. You snicker as you knock on the door, wondering just how much of a panic he must be in right now. Poor guy. He’s amazing at a lot of things, but anything in the kitchen sends him into a tailspin.

He opens it seconds later, sweating in a dark apron, his bangs falling down. “Hey! Dahlia!” He sniffs the air, watching as a small cloud of smoke billows out. “Oh god. Sorry about all of this. Come in.”

“What happened?”

“Turns out, making pasta is pretty hard.” Joon grimaces. “I managed to put out the fire though.”

“There was an actual fire?” That’s impressive, even for him.

“Uh… no? Nope. Definitely no fire at all…” He chuckles awkwardly, using a hand to break up the smoke. “I lit some candles to get rid of the smell.” He’s cracked open a window a few inches. And by ‘some’ candles, he means about fifteen, that all fill the space left by the plants he seems to have moved aside for the night. Joon clearly doesn’t do anything in moderation. “Good news is that we have takeout coming. So, we’ll still get Italian. Actually edible Italian.”

You giggle at how he flusters. Watching him run around, you leave your shoes by the door, then undo the knot of your coat to hang it up.

“How’s a glass of red wine sound?” He asks, rattling something in the cabinets.

“Sounds perfect.”

You make your way to the kitchen island. You slide into one of the barstools that faces the stove. Joon pops the cork, pouring crimson liquid into a tall-stemmed glass. It’s when he turns to give it to you that he gets his first good look at your outfit, at how you’ve dressed up for the evening. His hand jolts so much that he almost drops the glass entirely.

“O-Oh!” He (unusually) manages to catch himself at last minute. He sets the wine down on the table with a loud clatter. “Shit, sorry. I just. God.” He grabs a towel from the side to soak up the stray droplets that spilled. “Wow. You look amazing.”

You smile as you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “Thank you.”

“No, seriously, like… wow.” He takes in the tease of a neckline, purposefully curved over your chest. Subtlety has never been his strong suit but now he’s abandoned it entirely as he practically drinks you in like the wine in his hands. You don’t mind. Quite the opposite really. It bolsters your confidence when he reacts like this, as if he hasn’t been knuckle-deep inside you while you cried out in release.

You lean forward under pretext of reaching for the glass, giving him a bit more to dream about. Joon almost chokes on his sip of alcohol. You just grin in response.

“A-Anyway… Honestly, I’m surprised your evil stepmother and stepsisters let you out this early.” He turns and effortlessly throws the towel into the sink.

“Hehe. I did an extra good job of cleaning the house.”

“I’m sure even the floors are sparkling.” He’s about to take a seat when the doorbell rings. “Ah, that has to be food. Be right back.”

Minutes later, he returns with takeout boxes in hand. “Give me a sec. I’ll make it nice.” He moves swiftly, moving like he has much practice with plating the food. That amuses you too, as you wonder what other ‘special’ skills he has hidden away.

Joon adds one last sprinkle of parmesan. Then he sets it down in front of you with all the flourish of a gourmet. “Tada. Dinner is served.”

“Why, thank you.” You take up your chopsticks. “You have excellent taste.”

“Ah yes. I cooked it with my credit card.”

You can’t help laughing along with him. “Well, my compliments to the chef!”

Between bites of creamy linguine and a soon-depleted bottle of wine, the evening passes quickly. Too quickly for your liking as the hours slip by, counted by peals of laughter and flirty grins. The plates have long been emptied, sitting messily in front of you both. The conversation has winded down to a temporary lull as you both drain the last dregs of wine from your cups.

You’re fairly certain you haven’t drunken enough to be tipsy, not that you’d allow yourself to become so inebriated in front of him, so you decide it’s not just your imagination that he keeps looking aside your ear at something behind you. The first two times, you just figured he was searching for the next conversation topic. But now, you’re seriously convinced it’s either a ghost or you’re boring him.

“Joon... Why do you keep looking behind me?” You ask as you turn. Your eyes fall onto the couch you became quite familiar with just a few weeks ago. Oh. Oh…

“Um, sorry,” he mumbles when you look at him again. He puts both hands over his lips, as if that could hide the slow blush creeping across his cheeks. “I, uh, can’t seem to stop thinking about what happened the last time you were here…” You decide he’s probably too honest for his own good. You stay silent, and he seems to take that in the worst way possible. “Is that awful? Oh god. I don’t want to make this night about that or anything. That’s not why I invited you over for dinner. Seriously. You don’t have to—”

“Joon.” You push your seat back and let your feet hit the floor. “It’s not weird. It’s not awful.” You feel more nervous than you have in ages with each step you take towards him. “I’ve been thinking about it too.” His hands drop at your words. You seize this chance and press your mouth to his.

He tastes like cream sauce and the dizzying sweetness of wine. By now, you’re no stranger to his lips, to the chaste kisses he drops like butterflies during your brief pockets of time together. But these kisses are more, much more as you push yourself up on your toes. Every cell in your body seems to be tingling, sparking to life to urge you closer to those plush lips.

You try to deepen the kiss but can’t shake the feeling there’s some hesitation on his part; he’s merely responding to you, not taking any initiative when you want the opposite. “Come on, Joon.” You rest your forehead against his, let your tone dip around his name. “What’re you afraid of?”

He knows he’s been caught. His large palm comes up to cup your cheek. “Sorry... It’s just, last time things were so strained and—”

“This isn’t the same. This time, I’m here because I want you.” You lick your bottom lip, torturously slow so he has to watch. “And I’m not as delicate as you seem to think.”

“...Fuck.”

That’s all the warning you get before he’s finally, really kissing you. He’s half-falling out of his chair but it doesn’t matter when your tongues are moving in tandem, matched in desire. One hand finds itself in your hair, threading through the locks while the other stays on your cheek like reassurance that he isn’t going anywhere. That there is no place in heaven or hell he would prefer.

He moans when you coax his tongue between your lips, when you hollow your cheeks to suck. “Let’s move this to the bedroom,” he mumbles, “please.” The obvious bulge in his pants is convincing enough on its own, but you appreciate the need in his tone all the same.

“We should blow out the candles first. We don’t want to cause another fire, right?” You laugh, pulling away with all the grace of a fairy as you flit around the room, dousing flame after flame. He helps you out, too eager to feel you against him again not to.

When you blow out the last flickering candle, he scoops you into his arms. You take it a step further, daring to wrap both legs around his waist, trusting him to hold you aloft. He cups your butt securely as he maneuvers the familiar darkness to his room. All the while he can’t keep his mouth off your skin, tasting anywhere and everywhere.

Once inside, he kicks the door closed behind you with a little too much force; it slams closed before he’s pushing you against it. Neither of you bother with the lights, too enraptured in the feeling of the other, using touch to understand instead of sight. What soft moonlight drifts in the half-open blinds is enough to cast a glow upon your bodies, tangled in heat. You both seem to acknowledge that some things are better left to be experienced, like the lush of his lips against the crook of your neck, the need in every nuzzle ineffable.

When the hands beneath your ass squeeze with the excuse of finding a better grip, you grin. Then you grind against the clothed bulge you didn’t get to sample before. It makes him chuckle right back – a rich, delicious sound. “Like what you feel?”

“Very much.”

You squeal in delighted surprise when he spins around to make you both fall onto the softness of his bed. His weight on you feels so natural, so effortless that you could just cuddle here for a lifetime and be content. But the wetness between your legs longs to be slathered over his shaft.

“Mm, I want to feel more of you,” you whisper, pushing your hips up to meet his bulge.

“Patience, baby.” He gives you one more kiss before he shifts down to the edge of the bed, settling right between your thighs. “Let me have a taste first.”

“You’re still hungry after all that pasta?”

Joon flicks his gaze up and you instinctually swallow at the darkened lust in his eyes, lit by beams of moonlight slashed across his face.

“Starving.”

His nose indents your thigh as he breathes in your scent. You silently pray he won’t take his time nibbling his way up your legs, because you’ll be even more of a mess by the time he reaches your sex. Thankfully, he seems every bit as impatient as you. Too eager to even deal with your dress as he scrunches the fabric up. He exposes the dark lace that clings to your core, sticky with viscous arousal. He pauses at the sight, fingers stuttering to a complete stop.

That makes you nervous. You’ve only worn this set once before though it’s your favorite; you didn’t want to taint it with the hands of your targets, didn’t want guilt staining the delicate stitching. The sole other time had been for a hookup, just a quickie to sate bodily needs before you realized it didn’t matter what you wore because it wasn’t about you. It was only about what your body could offer. But Joon’s touch replaces your memories of that man with every stroke.

“…Is something wrong?” You whisper.

Joon shakes his head. “No. Of course not. You… You’re so damn beautiful.” He traces the fabric stretched across your mound. “You just keep drawing me in more and more.” He slips a finger into the waistband, crushes the elastic as if he’ll rip it off. “It makes me want to say things I shouldn’t.”

You can feel his breath swirling over your skin, making you whine in anticipation. “Like what?”

“Like how much I’ve been missing your pussy.” The word sounds almost too dirty for him but god, what it does to you is undeniable. Especially when he eases the underwear down, removes it entirely and you barely notice in the process because you’re too distracted by the infuriatingly gentle kisses he plants around your clit.

“Joon…”

“Mmm, like how I’ve been dreaming about you so slick, dripping around my fingers.” Perhaps it’s the wine that’s so loosened the tongue that hovers above where you need him most. You’re already drunk on the honey it produces. “You sang so prettily when you came. I want to hear it again.”

You obey with a heady moan when he finally dips his mouth enough to swirl the tip of his tongue around your clit. You scrunch his bedsheets in tight fists, pushing the back of your head against the firm pillow as he follows up with long, reverent strokes, splayed like his calloused fingers across your quivering thigh. He smears your wetness across his mouth without care, only focused on the hitch of your breath, the guttural song wrenched from your parted lips.

Your legs jerk, tense around him when he drags the flat of his tongue against you again and again, sliding along down the folds to tease your cunt with a shallow dip. Then he’s right back at your clit, suddenly sucking so hard you whine. You automatically buck into him as the need for something to fill you eviscerates everything else.

“God,” you gasp when he releases with a noisy pop, leaving you breathless and wanting.

His eyes slide up the gorgeous canvas of your body, finding your gaze. He holds it with a certain, thrilling confidence as he gathers wetness on his finger, coating himself thoroughly. “God can’t help you here,” he teases. “So just cum for me, baby.”

You wait for the delicious stretch, but he turns those slick fingers on your needy clit instead. You’re still sensitive from his mouth but he walks the fine tightrope, instinctively knowing what’s too much by your spilled whimpers. His tongue teases what’s to come next as it plunges inside your cunt, lapping at the walls that contract so tightly around. His fingers just keep circling, the pressure building in relentless crescendo with the blinding pleasure between your thighs. You know you’re no match for him. Him and that mouth, those hands, fuck...! You let yourself fall with hands fisting his hair.

A sharp expletive and the sudden cinch of your walls mark your peak as everything skids to a standstill. You’re vaguely aware that he’s watching you cum but you haven’t the mind to care, not when you’re grinding into his mouth, deliriously needing his heat. Sweat pricks your skin, proof of the bliss that is white hot through your veins: merciless.

Finally, you drop back onto the sheets on a tremulous exhale.

Joon extracts himself lazily, a trail of saliva clings to his lip before he licks it off. “Just as incredible as I remember,” he groans, grinding his bulge into the bed as he indulges in the scent of your lost control. “Hope you don’t mind. I plan on giving you more.”

“Not without you inside me,” you say, still finding it hard to speak properly but you pull you up to kiss. You taste yourself on the tongue that tangles with yours.

“Your wish, my command. Let me get this dress off you first.” He rocks back on his haunches after a nibble on your bottom lip. “It’s gorgeous, but right now, it’s in the way.”

Gladly. He could ruin it for all you care. Still, you spin around to expose the zipper holding the outfit together. You stretch out upon the sheets that are drenched in his scent, fleetingly wishing you could stay here forever. Then you’re distracted by the broad hand that finds the steel clasp and starts to pull. His bangs tickle your skin as he leans down, kisses every inch of skin he exposes in a languid, mesmerizing trail down your spine.

You feel the cool air fan across your body when the last of the dress falls away. His broad hands cup, then part your ass cheeks, admiring the bounce, the glisten of your soaked cunt. “Do you even know how wet you are?” He mutters. “So ready to be taken.”

“Mmm... Fill me, Joon.”

You hear the thump of his clothes landing on the floor, then a rustle, a hurried rip of a package. Then his weight advances, knees on either side of your legs as he slides his hands down your waist. His thick cock presses against your cunt with such firm urgency you moan at the expectation alone. He drops one kiss on your back and plunges his cock inside.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so damn tight,” he groans the second your walls accept him, squeeze him for all he’s worth. You sink deeper into his pillow, but it can’t staunch your moans from the stretch. Incomparable to anything you’ve ever had before, you can only tremble with pleasure as need builds in your stomach again.

“Fuck,” he swears again, unable to even form words with how good you feel around his cock. He feeds you well, sinking in deeper with every thrust until his crotch presses firmly against your ass. Length translates to him nestled right against your cervix, nudging against your deepest core. And his first full thrust makes you cry out, not expecting the jolt of pain when the head smacks roughly against the tight nerves. He pauses. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“No, no, never.” You feel him shift, the friction tantalizing. “Joon, I don’t think it’s ever been this good.”

“For me too.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Never.”

There’s no more time for speaking, only fervent moans when he falls into the pattern of brutal pumps, drawing your wetness every time he slams into you to the sound of a fresh slap. His hands can’t keep off you; they caress the slope of your back, the curve of your waist, finally finding home over your breasts while his breathy groans define the nape of your neck. You’re addicted to him in this form, unrestrained and desperate like you’ve never seen him before.

Every stroke of his cock is devastating to your cunt, carving the shape of his cock into your walls as you spur him on for more. You want him to ruin you until you can never forget the feeling of him even if it’s deep, too deep it hurts, because that’s the ache of being so fiercely alive. You throw your hips back, forcing him further still.

“Mm, I really want to see your face.” That’s all the warning you get before the pressure disappears, and he rears back to give you space to flip. You’ve barely been on your back for a second before he’s between your thighs again, grinding the entire length of himself against your sodden slit.

“Are you teasing me?” You laugh, knowing he’s torturing himself in the process too. You reach down, capture the swollen cock head between your fingers and pressure his frenulum enough to wrench a heady gasp.

“Not half as much as you tease me with those little moans.” He lets you guide him back to your cunt, dips himself in your ambrosia.  “So,” a thrust, “fucking,” a delicious stretch, “hot.” He palms a breast while his mouth finds the other, tongue toying with your taut nipple while his hips work ceaselessly.

He’s forced to let go when his pumps become too rough, too frenzied in their lust for him to stay bent. He’s slamming himself into you, hooked his arms beneath one of your knees to give himself the space to fuck against your core. The bed is practically vibrating beneath you from the sheer strength of every plunge. He drags over your upper wall every time, ensuring you haven’t a second’s rest. Not that you’d want it.

You are reduced to mewls by the time his rude fingers find your clit to rub. “Too... Fast... Joon...!” You can already feel your undoing rising but he doesn’t slow even though you want this to last. Thank god he lives alone as your voice climbs in volume, feet curling, back arching—everything is heat and everything is him.

“Let go, baby.”

He forces you into climax before you know it, cock battering against the sweetest, most wanton spot as the ultimate thrill rushes through you. His fingers never relent upon your clit because he’s high on how you sing for him, how your throbbing cunt accepts him whole for a perfect, damning fit.

Your orgasm drags him into his own, one so blinding he hardly recognizes his own voice as he drops down over your body. He gives you his deepest thrusts yet, shoving himself as far as you’ll allow and then some more. His groans come out choked as he empties his cum inside your walls, wishing there wasn’t this flimsy plastic in the way so you could truly feel him. But you squeeze him all the same, clutching him close so your heartbeats match and his mouth never leaves yours, not even for air.

“Joon, god, Joon,” you mumble, palming his cheeks and returning every kiss until the crest has ebbed into lazy waves of bliss that lap at your shores. You are exhausted and sated, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He flashes the dimples at you as he straightens, wipes a few droplets of sweat from his brow with the back of his head. He disposes of the condom with haste, so he can collapse at your side seconds later, breathing deeply to quell his thrumming heart. You smile deliriously as you turn to face him, to slip yourself into his embrace again despite the sweltering heat. Satisfaction and fatigue pull at your eyelids, but you fight their siren call. You need to savor every last moment you have in this space where you are naked—wholly, completely so in every sense of the word.

“Hey. Stay with me tonight,” he whispers, tracing your cheekbone with the backs of his fingers as if he knows what he’s asking for is too much. “I think... I think I need you by my side.” They are words like glass, so fragile it is as if they’ll disappear if he dares to utter them any louder.

“Joon, I...”

The arms that shelter you tighten, longing in every flex. “Forget your family. Your curfew, the rules. Just—everything. Please. Forget it all, at least until morning comes.” Intimate kisses brush across your forehead. “Then... I promise, I’ll let you go.”

You can find no argument. You never could against those sombre eyes, their darkness alight with the moon, betraying just how deep his affection runs. Though you’ve never said it aloud, you are certain your gaze reflects the same. Something you’ve been afraid of feeling all your life, but now you can’t imagine why, when it’s so precious.

“Okay. I’ll stay.” For tonight, one single night, you’ll pretend that the rest of the world has disappeared.

He grins, the dimples making their appearance as if to reassure you that you made the right choice. He presses one last kiss on the tip of your nose. Consequences are a problem for tomorrow. You watch his eyelids droop and his breathing slow. Smiling, you lay your palm over his chest to feel the strong beats of his heart. Your own vision blurs, slumber finally coming easily against his steady rhythm.

The next thing you register is a clatter.

Instantly, you’re alert.

You didn’t hear the front door open, but that could have just been a symptom of the sleep working its way through your body. You quiet your breathing and listen. The walls shake almost imperceptibly in time with silent, foreign footfalls, undetectable to anyone else. It’s an intruder. And they’re a professional.

You need to get to your dress. A hidden pocket sewn inside contains your knife. It’s not the best, but it’s better than no weapon at all. Thank god the candles are out. It has to be the Foxes. You were a fool, really, to think they wouldn’t try something. You just... never thought they’d find Joon.

But that’s what Jimin had thought too.

You untangle yourself from his arms as subtly as you can, but he stirs the second you move off the bed. Damn it. “Dahlia? What’s wrong?” Joon’s voice is hushed, sending goosebumps up your spine.

You swallow with a dry mouth. “I heard something.”

“A noise...? Let me go check it out.” He rubs at his sleepy eyes.

“No!” You snap it, a harsh whisper that makes his eyes widen. “No, I mean, I’m sure it’s just the wind...”

Joon’s already moved the blankets off, dropping to a crouch like you are. “Well, if it’s just the wind, then I’ll just close the window. I am taller than you.”

You roll your eyes in mock amusement. “That means nothing to me.” You pull the dress on, then fumble through its fabric. You slip the switchblade into your hand, one finger on the trigger.

“Just stay back, Dahlia.”

Damn him and his heroics. Still, there’s no use fighting him. Not when that increases your chance of being heard. He creeps towards the door. You shadow him; he doesn’t have to know you’re ready to fling yourself in front of him at moment’s notice.

You hold your breath when he reaches for the doorknob.

He knows how to turn it silently. The wood doesn’t betray him as he eases it open a sliver. You can hear the footsteps clearer now. They’re roaming through the kitchen. What the hell are they searching for? Is this not a hit but a heist instead? You stay carefully out of view.

Before you get any answers, Joon suddenly straightens. He whips the door open. It slams into the wall with a thundering crash. “Whoever the hell you are, get out!”

Your heart stops. What the fuck—

You catch the glint of steel in Joon’s hands.

A shot rings out before you can react. Is it coming or going? All you know is there’s an enormous clatter, like all the pots tumbled to the ground in the intruder’s unfamiliar haste. What the fuck is Joon doing with a gun? He holds it with practiced fingers, a proper grip.

Another shot. Definitely going. You recognize the telltale muted snip of a modified pistol; one with an excellent silencer. The kind those in your business routinely use. The kind Joon has pointed right at your uninvited guest.

“Get out!” Joon roars. He turns, using the doorframe as leverage. He uses practiced point swivels to keep his advantage. One more shot. This time, it results in a strangled choke of a noise. The shadow hurtles towards the front door in the moonlight. The door is yanked with so much desperate ferocity it almost rips off its hinges. Seconds later, the shadow is gone, disappeared into the darkness of the night.

When Joon looks back towards you, he finds himself on the business end of your knife.

“Dahlia, I—”

“Save it.” You’re trembling. Your legs are shaking harder than they’ve ever been. You despise the worry on his face. You hate the fact you still feel the ache he left between your thighs. “Don’t fucking say a word to me.” You don’t know who the hell that person was, and apparently you don’t know Joon either. Assassin that he is. The Fox has been by your side all along.

“Why didn’t you just kill me when we first met?” You circle the room. Blood pumps hot through your veins. “Why? You wanted intel on our family? Is that it? Is that why you asked all those questions?” You’re moving towards the door like a caged beast. Were you the one that lead to the stolen contracts? Has it been your fault all along?

“I’m not trying to kill—”

“Bullshit! That’s bullshit! You just shot at whoever the fuck that was, and you...” You blink away a hot tear, wishing it’s from fury, not grief. “You just...” Even now. Even now you can’t understand why the hell he doesn’t just shoot you where you are.

You’ve reached the bedroom door.

One quick sprint and you’ll find the freedom from him you never thought you would need. You take one last eyeful of his frame, frozen solid like ice. You can’t bear to look into the false constellations in his eyes. “I hope you got what you wanted.”

You turn.

You run.

You burst through the doors of home like a mess, hair wind-blown and feet blistered, jacket pulled tight around your body. You’re afraid you’ll definitely be caught this time. Excuse after excuse pop in your head, none of them sticking or coherent as you rush down the stairs. When you reach the bottom, you realize that didn’t matter at all.

Headquarters is in an uproar.

“What’s going on?!” You ask one of your sisters, who seems to be rushing from the infirmary.

“Hoseok. Hoseok was shot!”

“Badly?” You ask, but the look in her eyes is answer enough. “Got it.” You head right towards the storm.

First thing you see: Hoseok lying prone on a white bed, blood staining his stomach and sheets. They didn’t even bother to undo the harness strapped across his chest. His black turtleneck is yanked up to give your in-house doctor space to work. Hoseok groans, sweat dripping from his pale forehead and matted bangs.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Yoongi’s eyes blaze as they take in your dishevelled appearance.

You ignore him. Your shoes clatter on the tile as you speed to Hoseok’s side. “What happened? Where were you? What did you send him into?” You glare at Yoongi, certain he took another unnecessary risk. Another gamble with someone else’s life.

“Not his fault...” Hoseok breathes out. “A scout. Supposed to be... empty...”

“You got shot scouting? Where?”

“Stop talking if you want to live through this, Hoseok. Save your energy.” The doctor holds up forceps. “We have to take it out. It’s a modified bullet. Can’t leave it in, you’ll get poisoning.”

“Fuck.” Hoseok leans back, squeezes his eyes shut.

You look away, not wanting to watch the doctor work. “Where, Yoongi? Where did you send him?”

Yoongi grits his teeth. “Where else? To find one of those NIS dogs that’ve been on our ass.”

“NIS?” You repeat. Your brow furrows. Not the Foxes?

Hoseok fights for strength. “Asshole had... pistol. Nice one. With a silencer.”

“Hoseok, shut up!” The doctor is terrifying in his own right, and Hoseok finally falls silent.

You, on the other hand, want to scream.

Because this is too much of a coincidence.

Because you just saw the dull light of a silenced pistol thirty minutes ago.

No. Your mind instantly rejects your next thought as you stumble, reaching behind you to grasp desperately at anything to support your falling weight. Joon... There’s no way. He has to be a Fox. Or someone from another family. Not a NIS agent. Anything but. No. No. No—

“What’re you doing?” Yoongi snaps.

You whip your eyes up, then bolt in lieu of answer out the door. The room is too suffocating despite your aching feet. You need time to think. You need to figure out what the hell is happening. You need to know the truth, god damn it, and not just the twisted mess your mind is making of every little piece of evidence that just seems to lead to the worst conclusion.

“Hey!” Taehyung calls, but you blow past him.

You finally find safety in the form of your room and a slammed door. You slide down against it, cradling your drooping head in your arms. Don’t be stupid. Think! You force yourself to focus on the evidence, on the knowledge that you know for a certainty, not the way he smiled into your kisses with lips lethally sweet. Or how he held you close as if he could be your safety, your world instead of the very knife that slices across your heart. You close your eyes.

One fact remains absolute.

He has betrayed you. No amount of feelings, regardless of how complicated and intense, changes that. He is your enemy. He has always been your enemy, even if you only feel alive, truly alive in his arms.

“...I have to tell Yoongi,” you whisper to yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to move, unknown whether from sorrow or fatigue. Your breathing slows. “He needs to know.” But sleep is heavy on your body, refusing to release its hold. You don’t fight it. You let your head fall another few inches. You’ll tell Yoongi in the morning, in a couple of hours. The settling darkness decides this for you.

This is the last shred of kindness you’ll give to Joon.

You wake to cold steel pressed against your forehead.

It is crammed with enough strength to leave a pink indent, a painful swell that you instinctively shift away from. You are still disoriented from slumber, blinking, trying to gather yourself. But the tapered end chases you down like a relentless hound.

Something shoves your arm. You wince when you hit the floor, forced from the door. Your instincts finally kick in, and you propel yourself away, as far away as you can. Who the hell... You let out a strangled noise when you see.

Yoongi stares down at you, ice in his eyes, a gun pointed squarely at your head.

“Yoongi, wh—”

“You betrayed us.”

You immediately shake your head. “No. No, I haven’t!”

“You think I haven’t noticed you sneaking out?” Yoongi takes a step, bringing his gun closer. “Creeping around like a rat.”

He... knew? You made sure you weren’t being followed each and every time. But did you slip up in your haste?

“I let you go. I know you’ve been having issues. But tell me, is it fun to spill all our secrets to your friends at the NIS?” A delirious grin is stretched across Yoongi’s lips. Your quivering eyes shift between that and the barrel of the gun. “Is it fun to watch the rest of us flounder in the dark? You hate what’s been left to us so much?”

“No, Yoongi, please, you have to believe me, I didn’t—”

“Then how did the NIS know Hoseok was coming?!” Yoongi shakes the pistol, tilting it on its side. “Every Thursday, they have a meeting. A mandatory meeting. Yet there he was, waiting for OUR MAN to appear.”

Your tongue is fat in your mouth. He said he was free. He said he was going to the gym. He— Oh god, it’s your fault. It’s your fault Hoseok was shot.

“No answer, huh? Just as I fucking thought.” Yoongi snorts. “Maybe you should be more careful the next time you talk to ‘Joon’.”

“H-How...”

He holds up your com, the triple lock utterly bypassed. “Or should I say Kim Namjoon. Agent of the NIS.” Your stomach lurches. “I told you not to trust anyone outside of the family, and look what you’ve done! You’ve compromised all of us. You’re out, sis.” Yoongi raises his hand and he cocks the gun.

Do you knock it out of his hands? Do you run? Or do you just take the punishment you deserve?

You suck in a breath that could very well be your last one.

“Get down!”

A scream hurtles through your open door. “Get the fuck down!” Explosions like fireworks blast from far away, sounding like they’re coming from the foyer.

A body dashes past your room. “What’s going on?” Yoongi yells as he turns, his hand faltering. “What’s happening?”

You see your chance. You lunge forward and wrestle the gun from his grip. “Hey!” You twist your body to avoid a shot but none goes off as you shove Yoongi to the floor.

“I’m sorry!” You gulp as you speed past him in bare feet. “I’ll explain everything later, I promise!” You can’t die yet. You can’t die here. You know Yoongi has other weapons on him. He’ll be fine if it comes to that.

You run towards the source of noise, staying in the shadows of corners, of tiny hideaways. The shots just keep firing, peppered with yells and cries so muddled you can’t recognize any of them. You are a turn away when you spot Jun in the foyer.

“Ju—”

“Aaagh!” Jun crashes to the ground, skids. A suit has one knee on his back, yanking his arms behind him to slap steel handcuffs on. NIS. So clearly NIS with that uniform. How did they find you? How did they get here?! You’re rooted, your face half hidden in the dark, half lit with the bleary, unchanging light. You desperately want to save him, but you only have one gun.

The agent on Jun suddenly whips his head up. His eyes connect with yours, and you recognize him. JK. Joon, no, Namjoon’s ‘friend’. They really played you for a fool and you ate it all up. But now JK’s arm is coming up, about to betray your location.

“Get out!” Jun screams at you before his cheek is forced to the concrete again.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing your voice is too quiet to reach him. Then you go.

The agents swarm your headquarters, spreading like flies across the space. You spot them down the corridor leading to the infirmary. Hoseok must be compromised too. You keep running.

There is one exit deep within that is bound to be safe. There’s no way they’ve penetrated so deeply. Not yet. It’s hidden in the office that used to belong to your parents: a tiny tunnel. You just have to get past the dining hall first. A wide open space.

“Get the fuck back!”

Yoongi’s voice cuts across the hall as soon as you reach the doors. You duck, taking shelter behind a wall. Yoongi is locked in a stalemate, staring down an agent with his lazer pistol. They’re taking steps back, slowly moving closer to where you are. He’s trying to get a vantage point, knowing this space much better than the NIS.

Then you see the agent coming from his blindside.

No! You leap out, instantly aiming your gun at the agent’s arm. You pull the trigger.

No shot comes out. You desperately pull it again, but it’s too late.

“Fuck!” Yoongi finally spots the suit but by the time he spins, an electric shock pulses through the air from the agent’s immobilizer. It smacks Yoongi right in the side, coursing through his system as he shakes uncontrollably before collapsing. And he stays down.

You blink away the tears as you rip yourself from the scene. The breaths come up in great shuddering gulps as you try to keep calm but your hands just keep shaking. They shake so badly you can barely pull the bullet chamber out. It’s empty. God damn it. God damn your brother and his bleeding heart.

You claw at your coat collar, trying to loosen what feels too tight around your constricting throat. Adrenaline makes your head pound, and you know you have no more time to spare. You have to go. You have to leave Yoongi behind.

The dining hall is out, but there’s one more pathway to the office. It’ll take longer, but you have no other choice. You change directions, tucking the gun into your pocket like a safety charm.

A handful of excruciating minutes later, you find yourself in front of the office door. You haven’t been here in years, unable to bear the emotions that surface but you’re already so frazzled it doesn’t matter anymore. You slip inside.

The entrance is only accessible via fingerprint, built into the wooden desk that looks so ancient no one would suspect the technology it holds. You approach, instantly swept with relief. Thank god. On the desk, you see a tiny V drawn in red. Taehyung was here. Taehyung is safe. Three dots are haphazardly smeared next to it. Three others made it out with him. You’re going to be the fourth.

You flip the cover and press your thumb to the scanner.

Then someone calls your full name. Your real name. The voice is a rich baritone, one you could never forget. “Please. Wait.” The door shuts again with a click.

You face him, hoping every line of fury is carved in your expression. “Kim Namjoon.” Your hands curl into fists. “NIS agent.”

“...Yeah. That’s me.”

Namjoon stands before you in one of those tapered black suits that look so odd on him when you’re used to the slacks, the baggy tees. His hair is slicked back, and he holds that same pistol you saw in the darkness of his apartment.

You scoff. “I have nothing to say to you, Namjoon.”

“What about to Joon?”

“He doesn’t exist.”

“Neither does Dahlia.”

You press your lips together into a thin line. “What do you want with me? I’m useless to you now, aren’t I?”

“No. Never.”

You rake an exasperated hand through your sweaty hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say, really.” You want to scream at him, to let out every ounce of frustration but you just feel exhausted. “I fucking slept with you, Namjoon. Meanwhile you and all your buddies were probably laughing your asses off at how stupid I was. I broke every rule to be with you and you were just lying to me. About everything.”

“Well, I broke protocol too! It’s not like I went in there trying to sleep with you. I would never use you like that.”

You scoff. “Forgive me for finding it hard to believe you right now.”

“Please.” He tries to step closer, but you shake your head, glare at him to keep his distance. “Tonight and every night we’ve spent together. It meant something to me.”

“It meant you were getting the info you wanted.”

“No. My duties as agent ended the second I kissed you tonight. What came next was all me. It’s always been me with you on the drives. The picnics. Watching the stars.” You have to give him credit, he actually looks apologetic. Maybe ‘actor’ should be on his resume too. “Please.” He repeats your real name, and it sounds so foreign in his mouth you almost want to recoil. “You felt something tonight too. You can’t deny it.”

“Don’t talk like you know me.”

He shakes his head. “But I do know you. I know how your eyes sparkle when you talk about all the things you want to see, all the world you still want to explore. I know that you laugh at stupid puns and that you love the smell of stale movie popcorn like a weirdo. And I want to know so much more. I always do.”

You swallow the emotion that you can’t make entirely disappear, hating that he’s so goddamn right. “Look, Joon, Namjoon, whatever. None of that matters anymore. I... I have to go.” The trapdoor in the floor is still open, standing by. And the longer you wait, the more agents infiltrate your family, corrupt this space.

“Okay.” Namjoon sighs, and you think he’s going to arrest you. But instead, he just looses his grip on his gun. “You can leave. I’ll let you. I’ll pretend I didn’t see you, that I was too late.” He lets the pistol fall. It hits the floor with a dull thud. “But just know that you’ll be running forever.”

He suddenly extends his arm to you, palm up. “Or you can come with me. And you’ll have to face the consequences, but I’ll fight for you. I promise, I’ll fight damn hard. And at the end of it all... It might take months, it might take years, but you’ll be free.”

You stare at the pitch black of the tunnel.

Taehyung is waiting for you on the other side with your family. The people you’ve grown up with, the people responsible for giving you life. Or at least, the façade of life you’ve lived up until now. How much do you still owe them? When will it be enough?

On your exhale, you find Namjoon’s eyes. See the flicker of light reflected in their depths.

Trembling, you place your hand in his.

a/n: thank you for reading. truly. this is my first time writing something so ambitious. i wanted to present a world where things are all various shades of grey, where there is never a right answer. some characters were so difficult to write, but i hope their reasons for their actions were clear enough in the end. i would love to hear your thoughts on the piece & any feedback is always greatly appreciated! 

special shout out to @jeonshome who fed my insanity throughout the writing & kept me from imploding. please send her tons of love. i would give her all the star flower bouquets in the sky if i could ✨

p.s. you can find extra drabbles for this AU on my masterlist!

#bloom #namjoon x reader #bts smut #namjoon smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #kim namjoon #bts assassin #assassin au #criminal au #bts angst #under fire collab #bscproject #thanks for reading everyone!! #this one is so dear to me #i really hope you enjoy it #rain writes

[inaure-forhalla]

because at this rate i will simply never have proper full written out bios for my muses, below the cut find some more detailed information about my muses that give you more info than just the vibey little blurbs i shat out at some ungodly hour of the day:

akllasqa mamani:

aklla is the daughter of a scientist that had all her titles stripped of her, and prohibited from working in the field after unethical experiments came to light. this doesn’t stop her from laying low and forming a personal lab, although under a watchful eye. she proceeds to learn and absorb all she can about genetic editing, and with the use of the CRISPR method and friends manning labs, she produces her own genetically edited egg. this is where aklla comes from, she’s planted in her mother’s womb and grows to be a girl who continues her life under a microscope. her mother is constantly poking and prodding at her, in a desperate attempt to note every deviation from regular behaviour from a girl who was tailored. aklla is diagnosed with anti social personality disorder in the future, and as a child is known to have conduct disorder. she’s been called a sociopath more times than she can count and is prone to sudden, and violent outbursts. all in all, a difficult teenager trying to maneuver through a society that works against anyone with any mental diagnosis.

jolene walsh:

honestly jolene’s the only one i have a full bio for, so because i’m lazy catch that here. 

vivian han:

vivian grows up in a house that values tradition, and in particular the image of a good family. her parents are not overtly religious, but they’re devout christian’s. they got married young, and without much thought and this leads to strife in their household. they start to fall out of love right in front of her eyes, but old time tradition and religious beliefs compel them to stay together despite divorce being the healthiest option for them both. being the oldest daughter in the house, vivian often has to play peacekeeper between her parents fights. she grows weary of it, but knows her options are limited. the older she gets, the more time she spends outside of the house. parties where the music is so loud she can’t hear her thoughts, she drinks away whatever she’ll have to face when she gets home. vivian is the fun girl, and the smart girl, and the party girl, and she does whatever she can to keep up every front she has. straight a student, but beloved by her peers. and only because she tries so hard. sometimes that comes with a small mean streak to be accepted by her peers, but she grows out of that quickly. guilt wears on her conscience heavily. an unhealthy relationship is all she knows as she grows up and so it leads her into her own. she dates a boy who becomes her ruin, but she tolerates it because that’s all she knows. she tolerates it even when he pushes her against a wall and she’s worried she has a concussion. he never hits her, and that’s his excuse. she files a restraining order after much thought and push from her friends. but it only makes her wild nights even worse, she has more pain to drink away now.

gabriel and ronan:

two boys that were once part of the same band, now leading two completely different lives. gabriel has always had his head in the clouds, always dreamt of life as a musician. his parents could do little to stop what his heart wanted. as a kid he’d play in shows any chance he got at school, and even kick started his own garage band with his friends. he never wanted to be the star of the show, gabriel was more than happy in the background. and that’s how he becomes the bass player of Golden Ours. he grew up in a bustling house that knew nothing about love, and it’s what he puts out into the world. his energy comes from genuine joy, and the desire to spread kindness. he’s a humble star from humble beginnings, and does his best to not let fame get to his head. naturally, there are slip ups, ones he does his best to hide. but all in all, he makes for pleasant company. not much tragedy in this one, rather typical if you ask me. 

ronan on the other hand grows up in completely different circumstances. the accident child of an alcoholic and a junkie, he never really knows stability in his life. his parents never have a good means to finances, and he picks up odd jobs as a kid to support himself if not his parents. he holds his father’s anger and defends himself after each bark and bite from his parents. he doesn’t grow up in a good house, and he doesn’t know if he likes them more when they’re sober or completely out of their minds. he swings a fist at this father at eighteen and is met with his ass on the curb. with little to nothing to his name, he sofa surfs as long as he can, gets himself jobs here and there, nothing that lasts too long. he comes across gabriel before the band hits the charts and it begins as roommates soon turned bandmates. he joins as lead guitarist. ronan’s one to butt heads with the band often, but at the end of the day, they’re family and family was meant to fight. but the disputes only heighten when ronan pushes them to take deals that come their way. change their look, change their sound, change change change for the mainstream media. they won’t take it, and so ronan does. leaves the band behind and embraces life as someone he doesn’t recognize in the mirror. he goes from alt indie rock to more mainstream pop rock. his manager decides what he wears, what he sings, what he signs up for. the money’s good, but he hates himself. but the money’s good.

mira deol:

mira lives a quiet life for the most part. second oldest daughter of five, their family is never without festivities. she’s a good student, not the top of her class, but trying. she sits in the middle of everything, never too loud, never too quiet. mira seems to breeze by life in the background and a part of her itches to be at the front of the show. she knows she’s not built for it, so instead she’ll smile and nod through it all. her life flips upside down, she becomes part of headlines when her family is killed at sixteen. in the middle of the night, the confront what they think to be a robber. her father and his broken english yelling downstairs, threatening to call the cops when a gun’s pulled out on them. mira, silent, watches from the top of the stairs while her entire family is sat down on the rug. one by one, they’re lined up and taken out with a single shot to the head. execution style. she scampers into a closet, and her hands search the dark floors for the gun she knows her dad has. and she sits there, as quiet as ever, hands shaking as she holds the gun in front of her. she thinks he’s left until she hears the creaks up the stairs and the closet door swings open. she closes her eyes and empties the bullets into her assailant without a second thought. mira’s found with blood, both her own and his, on her body. she hasn’t left the closet when they find her, a neighbour calls when they hear the last round of gunshots. her face takes the newspapers by storm and she’s a charity case. without any other family overseas, she moves in with her next door neighbours. a girl she knows from school. she suffers from traumatic mutism for a year. rehab and therapy get her to open up, and she cries anytime she speaks for another year. her life is spent in and out of therapy, and when she finally moves out and manages to get into university, she lives alone. everything about her life screams at her to live with company, but fear of what happens to company around her forces her into living alone. currently, mira is still healing. it’s been five years since her family’s death and she’s pushing herself back into society slowly. her emotions are hard to handle, and she’s incredibly clingy when she gets attached. 

buster jones:

buster lives a comfortable life. his parents work good jobs and they don’t expect much from him. as the youngest of a trio of boys, he’s the family’s baby for most of his life and he milks it for all it’s worth. he spends most of his time gaming, eating, or hanging out with friends. never the best student, but he manages to pull through with the tutors his parents throw at him a countless number of times. he doesn’t tell them that he’s paid kids to do his homework and essays, they don’t need to know that. but when both brothers leave the house, grow old enough to make it out on their own, the attention turns back to buster. buster who does nothing for the family but eat half the contents of their fridge, which can no longer be excuse as the appetite of a growing boy. so his parents make him take up a job, any job, they tell him, and so he goes to work at a mcdonald’s. he reckons it’ll be the least amount of effort he’ll have to put in, and impossible to get fired from. plus, free fries anytime he so pleased. he’s working through his last year of highschool, projected to have to take a fifth year if summer courses fail him. when he makes it to college he takes up criminal justice. not with the dreams of being a lawyer like his mother so hopes, but with the dream of getting into the fbi. only because it looks cool on television and he swears they know everything about area 51, and the gps’ that babies are injected with. an avid reader of conspiracies that he spouts like his life depends on it, what he doesn’t have in book smart, he also doesn’t have much in street smart. how buster makes it through the day, everyone wonders. but somehow he does.

elena castillo:

she grows up doted on. an only child, given the world at her every whim. her father loves her, her mother loves her, but doesn’t have to love as much since her father takes care of that part. her father dies when she’s eight, and her mother doesn’t take it well. elena had shown various talents at a young age, and the one her mother hones in on is her ability to skate. never having taken professional figure skating, her mother says it’s time for her to try. she doesn’t protest much, knows just how pushy her mother can be. she’s a good child for the most part, prone to temper tantrums, but mother knows best. elena’s mother focuses all her energy on her daughter, and it becomes obsessive. like a pageant mom, she signs her up for every competition under the stars. elena is bound to win most of them, and that’s because her mother doesn’t let her rest until she gets her routine down pat. elena’s perfectionism is taught and forced down her throat, it doesn’t come naturally. it doesn’t take long for the girl to embrace that figure skating has become her life. pulled out of classes on a whim just to participate in competitions, she learns how to catch up with classwork quickly without disappointing her mother. she never admits it, but she seeks validation from the one parent she still has. thinks maybe she’ll gain the same love she got from her father if she does it right. elena is quick to snap as she grows older. becomes her biggest critique, and with it comes a sharp attitude that she’s quick to lash out onto others. she projects her own insecurities, and drags people down to bring herself up. she’s now a professional figure skater, one of the best of her age at twenty. but it didn’t come easy, and she’s not willing to give it up easy. in front of the cameras and the crews she waves and smiles. once the lights drop, so does the facade and she doesn’t bother to lift a finger for anyone she deems not worth her time. she becomes more like mother, and over the years, they become more like partners than mother and daughter. their relationship is never healthy.

luciana pereira: prev lucarus

has the sexiest bio it deserves a read here

imogen, willa, devna mini bios coming soon !

#( 𝚘𝚘𝚌 . ) happy shitposting day . #truly the closest thing to a bio we'll get for a while omg

[purplesurveys]

1257

Have you ever watched a movie in class/school that made you cry?  Oh for sure. We had to watch It’s A Beautiful Life and I know I cried every single time I watched that movie, whether for school or on my own time.

What’s the earliest you could go to bed at night and feel okay about?  I don’t really get this question. I feel like it would make more sense if it asked how early I’m willing to wake up in the morning...? Anyway, I don’t pay attention to the time I sleep at night. Sometimes I’ll pass out as early as midnight, and sometimes I’ll be up until 3; it doesn’t matter to me.

What is you favorite type of lunch meat?  I’m not into those in general.

What time of the year do you dislike the most?  The heat in April and May is just brutal and uncalled for. It gets so hot and disgustingly humid and most times the aircon can’t even do much to quell it.

Do you put ketchup on your scrambled eggs?  Yeah, banana ketchup since that’s what we usually have a bottle of. Generally, I have banana ketchup with most of my breakfast dishes too.

What is your favorite color to wear? I don’t really have a favorite to wear those days mostly because I barely go out anyway and there’s been little need to update my closet.

Are you an overachiever?  Seems like the type of question you should be asking my parents, not me haha. Personally, though, I’m fairly proud of what I’ve accomplished.

What physical feature do you wish you had (i.e. freckles, curly hair)?  Maybe longer legs and smaller teeth, but I’m not exactly insecure about mine.

What fictional character (i.e. Bambi, Scarlette O'Hara) would you marry? Did you just raise the possibility of marrying a deer? Anyway...since I mentioned Two for the Road in the last survey, I’ll go with Mark from that movie. Seems like my type of partner. 

How long have you gone without shaving (girls- legs, armpits; boys- faces)?  With legs...around 2-3 weeks. Armpits, maybe about a week or so. Never more than a month for either.

What is the meanest thing you have ever said to someone else?  For the most part I’ve always been cautious of what I say; writing, on the other hand...I’ve written stuff on my diary wherein I let out all my frustrations against my mom. I know they were mean because she cried over them – but that also entailed snooping through my stuff, so I’ve never felt bad about it. I meant those things as I wrote them because it was my safe space, and she violated that. That’s on her.

Did you ever go through a phase where you wrote bad poetry?  I did, but I instantly realized it was bad so I stopped as soon as I began.

What is your favorite thing about your life?  How everything seems to have fallen in its place these days. There’s really little to complain about and I’m grateful for that.

Save all the animals that die during road kill or save 1 human from a fire?  Animals.

Have you ever painted a picture of somebody?  No.

How many real bfs/gfs have you had?  One.

Did you enjoy your past relationships?  I did.

Name a comedy that you like. White Chicks. << I love this choice, let’s just go with this one lol.

Could you wait until marriage for sex?  Sure.

What’s the best Nirvana song?  I don’t listen to them. I know a couple of songs but I don’t like them enough to be my favorites.

What was the last thing that impressed you?  The new Butter remix with Megan Thee Stallion.

When was the last time you were in a pet store?  Years, years ago.

What nationality is your last name?  Spanish or Portuguese, I’m not super sure.

What’s your favorite kind of chips and dip?  I never dip my chips; I just have them as is.

Who was the last boy that you saw cry?  Idk...maybe one of my cousins from one of our family reunions last year. I don’t get to be around a lot of boys or guys.

Does your mom know you do surveys?  No. I’ve never had to raise it and I can’t see a situation where I would have to.

Have you ever had a serious injury?  Yeah, I got a big wound from when I went snorkeling around a decade ago. I wasn’t provided flippers so when I was kicking to stay afloat I managed to hit the coral reefs underneath repeatedly, which majorly scraped and gashed my left foot until it was an open, bleeding mess. It was infected for weeks and I’m surprised it didn’t leave any kind of mark or scar.

What was the last thing you achieved?  Handling a campaign for a major client successfully and getting good coverage and results for it.

Would you enjoy being famous?  Probably, but I wish I had some sort of talent or skill that would propel me to popularity in the first place hahaha.

What’s under your bed?  Some things I collected from past hobbies and interests, like all my old wrestling magazines.

Do you enjoy travelling?  Love it.

Have you ever belonged to a club? If so, what was it?  I mean I joined an org in college, which technically makes me a member for life. I’m not name-dropping but it’s one of the two journalism organizations in my alma mater.

When was the last time you drank strawberry milk?  I can’t recall. I don’t drink strawberry milk.

Have you ever managed to collect all the fast food toys in a set?  I never collected those.

Do you have a clock in your room?  Nope.

Did you have a good driver’s ED teacher?  I honestly can’t remember. I only had like three sessions with different instructors for each, and the one instructor I remember having was extremely cranky and impatient.

Which of Britney Spears’ songs is your favorite?  Hold It Against Me is pretty fun.

Does mind over matter work for you?  Sure.

Are you paranoid?  Oh yeah. Overthinker is pretty much my middle name.

What is the best thing about winter?  I wouldn’t know but considering the things associated with it, I’ve always believed it would be my favorite season.

Have you ever been truly in love?  Hmm. I think so, yeah. I’d give myself that.

Are you currently planning a trip?  Nah. Nothing set in stone, but Angela, Reena, and I have been talking about flying to South Korea next year. We’ll see.

How many plants are in your home?  Several. My mom is a bit of a fan, but it’s nothing obsessive.

What is your favorite possession?  I treasure my BTS merch, I guess haha. Nobody is allowed to touch them or move them around without my permission. As often as my mom likes to barge in my room and touch my stuff, she seems to understand and doesn’t lay a finger on any of the merch either.

Have you ever felt like you were too nice and way too often overlooked?  Sure. But it's never really mattered to me; it just feels nice to be nice and do nice things for people. It does feel nice to be thanked, but I don’t necessarily do it for the recognition.

What movies have tripped you out?  I’m Thinking of Ending Things, Midsommar, Anomalisa, Under the Skin, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and The Killing of A Sacred Deer are a few of them.

Did you rollerblade as a kid? Do you still rollerblade?  Yesssss, I even had a pair as a kid. I got into it because I loved to ice skate, but it turned out I wasn’t as good as gliding on the ground so I ultimately preferred ice skating. Anyway, no, I haven’t done rollerblading in years.

Would you ever settle into a relationship that wasn’t right for you? Do you know friends who are in relationships just so they have someone to sleep with at night?  I did. I stayed because it’s where I felt safe and I didn’t know where else to go or what else to do outside of it.

Would you take a dirty picture of yourself for someone you are dating?  Sure.

Do you use earplugs or a sleeping mask when you sleep?  Nope. I find them more distracting than anything else, and they actually keep me from sleeping.

What summertime treats do you love?  I don’t have any.

How picky are you when it comes to choosing who to kiss or not kiss? I am VERY picky. I have to be really interested in you. < Yeah, this sounds about right.

What do you hate most about moving?  The last time we moved was in 2008...and I don’t really remember disliking any part of it. I was actually excited for us to have a home all to ourselves after living with extended family in a cramped house all my life.

Do you feel that having sex anywhere but a bed is more exciting?  Depends where. Sometimes it can be exciting, sometimes it can be inconvenient but you kinda do it out of desperation lol.

Do you drink 5 hour energy drinks or any other kinds of energy drinks?  No, I’m scared of how it would affect my body so I’ve never tried.

Has anyone ever whistled at you?  Countless random men.

Do you like scarves?  They can be comfy if I’m traveling somewhere cold...but I don’t really get to do that often, so.

Is your father homophobic?  I haven’t seen any signs from him. My mom is much more likely to exhibit internalized homophobia – she just did the other night.

Do you take gummy vitamins?  No, only when I was a teenager.

Have you ever applied make-up on a guy, for any reason at all?  I don’t think so, nothing I can recall.

Who would you like to meet before you die?  I don’t have any goal person in mind.

If your dream was to be a model, and a big opportunity came up, but you had to be nude, would you take it? Hmm, probably not. What’s the most ridiculous conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of?  The Avril Lavigne doppelganger one is extremely hilarious and I read up so many thread about it on Twitter just so I can see how far people can stretch it.

If Heaven and Hell exists, where are you going when you die?  I don’t care.

Who is the person that you are afraid of losing, above everyone else?  Either of my best friends.

What is one thing that pisses you off pretty much everyday?  The weather.

Is there anyone you know that you feel should consider therapy?  My mom.

Do you like any of the songs on Twilight, or the actual movie/saga itself?  Yeah the soundtracks are actually fucking great. The person who took this survey before me named Supermassive Black Hole by Muse, and that’s one of my favorites from all the soundtracks. The song Slow Life in New Moon is nice, too. How old was the first person you kissed?  She was 17, going on 18.

Will you be a strict parent one day?  I’d have some rules set but I wouldn’t suffocate my kids.

Last person to stand up for you?  Heck if I know. I can do that for myself.

Have you been to a baby shower?  No.

Who were you with the last time you went to the movie theater?  My ex.

What’s your favorite high school memory?  Hiding a same-sex relationship from my conservative, homophobic Catholic teachers.

Do you like relationships, or do you prefer to be single?  I like being single these days.

What is one adventurous thing you’d be willing to do?  Trying out the Nevis Swing in New Zealand.

What subject at school did you absolutely hate?  I saw no point in studying chemistry.

Italian food or Chinese food?  Chinese. I like Italian cuisine, but sometimes I find it a tad bit salty for my taste.

Do you like to make flash cards when you study?  Not flash cards but sometimes I’ll write my notes down in several index cards because for some reason I retain information better that way.

Has anyone ever told you that you’re a good singer?  No.

Do you ever watch TED talks, live or online?  No. I never saw the appeal of most of them, honestly.

I dare you to write the name of a person you strongly dislike.  Gabie.

What do you think about Marilyn Manson?  I have nothing to say about him tbh. 

Biggest trouble you’ve ever gotten into at school?  Nothing beyond getting into an argument with this kid in 2nd grade and getting sent to the counselor’s office for it.

Do you own one of those “professional” DSLR cameras?  I used to, until I handed it down to my sister...and until she let it smash onto the ground because she didn’t place it on her tripod properly when she was filming one time. I still don’t get why she’s so defensive about it; I wish she’d just admit she majorly fucked up on that. Does it bother you when you see a 6th grader with a bunch of gadgets?  It makes me silently judge the parents more so than letting myself be bothered by a child.

Did you buy yearbooks every year in high school, or did you not bother?  We’re not offered the chance to get yearbooks unless we’re in graduating years.

Do you have Restless Legs Syndrome?  No.

Jalapeños: yay or nay?  YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

Did you ever play Minecraft? No. I can’t care less.

Did you ever have a Club Penguin account? Were you a member?  I didn’t.

Do you know anyone that seems to not have any common sense?  Me, sometimes. Hahahaha.

What do you think is the biggest injustice that was ever done to you?  The way I was broken up with, like what the person who last took this said. I’m not tortured by it and her anymore, but I don’t think I deserved to intensely mull over about what I could have possibly done to be broken up with the way she did.

What type of person angers you the most? Abusive people that think only they matter and have no consideration for how their actions affect other people. < This pretty much hits the nail on the head on how my ex is, so I’ll just go ahead and agree.

If you could change your appearance, how would you alter it?  I’d get braces again and...that’s it, really.

What are your feelings on feminism?  I support it and I support how it advocates equality.

Describe your first relationship?  I’ve only had one relationship so I’ll just answer the following question.

Describe your last relationship?  Internally toxic; uhhh healthy at some points I guess, when she wasn’t being a selfish prick; a disaster towards the end.

Can you honestly say that you always practice safe sex?  I honestly don’t know what constitutes ‘safe sex’ in a same-sex relationship, sooooo idk if I have.

Why do you think your most favorite film touches you so deeply?  It’s a realistic take on love and I appreciate that it took its sweet time to highlight the ugly sides of love and marriage. Also, Audrey Hepburn taking her acting chops to the next level was just beautiful to watch. She was always a fantastic actress in all her movies, but I could tell her acting in Two for the Road had just a little bit more depth to it.

What do you want people you meet for the first time to think about you?  That I’m nice and approachable.

Do you feel protective over someone?  My friends.

What perfume/cologne do you wear?  Heat Rush.

Where did your vehicle come from?  My parents got it for me as a high school grad gift.

What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to?  I haven’t been to a wedding since 2007, and back then I was designated as a flower girl lol. I’ve never been to a wedding where I was chosen to be a bridesmaid.

What is your favorite way to eat chicken?  CHICKEN SANDWICH. Also chicken wings.

It is your birthday. You hope the cake is:  Oreo cheesecake topped with 24 macarons.

What do you wear to bed?  Something thin and airy.

What were you doing at 8pm last night?  I was watching Bon Voyage.

#survey #surveys

[voidandradiance]

hint of a spark | 2.8k

(a direct sequel to stars burn out)

their champion serves them well.

he doesn't want to turn against his dear friends; he tempts them toward the dark of his own free will. it is a careful, masterful work, a dream of clever comments and timely suggestions. "my patron treats me well," the captain says with a smile, his eyes darker and clearer than they have ever been before.

the other champions have noticed many of the changes, but not all of them. they have noticed that he seems stronger than before, but not that he avoids sunlight as when he can. they notice the way that his blows hit harder, but not the way that his shadow stretches longer than it should. he dances in the dark, and they scarcely notice. for heroes of the light, they aren't all that observant.

of course not. why would they think to scrutinize their friend, their leader, their dear captain? he would never betray them.

but he would sway them.

he would begin to resent the light for constantly placing them in mortal danger. he would begin to question the way that the hunt for the stones seems to pit them against each other. he would plant those seeds of doubt deep in their chests, and water them carefully.

the darkness constructs yet another gauntlet for the heroes to run, unyielding at the request of their own champion. they cannot raise suspicion, the captain had insisted. instead, when trapped between a horde of minions and a fatal drop, he takes his own way out. he makes his own way out, in a flash of brilliance and stubborn pride, as immune as he would be.

mianite's champion comments on his stubbornness. their clever champion grins. "i never like to accept the obvious options," he says casually, and spins his netherite blade in a flourish. "didn't we ever tell you about how i ended up with milady?"

"no," the caveman says, fascinated at the promise of yet another absurd story, another insight into his friend. "you'll have to tell me later."

the captain smiles. "we'll have to tell you about ruxomar as well," he replies. "with the shadows and all. i think we should all be on the same page, if we're fighting the parent of the gods."

his shadow stretches long and dark on the stone floor, curling with smug delight. none of them notice. the darkness is so very proud of their champion.

he and the zombie tell the caveman of a world where his god was cruel and cold, a world that burned at the hand of the dark, a world where gods died. it discomfits him, but both assure him that the gods change across the realms. they tell him of a world where chaos tore balance to shreds, and order hardly said a word against it, a world where a mortal killed his god, a world where mere children both defeated and restored the divine. the caveman, as is only fair, is alarmed and concerned.

the darkness already has a hold in him, and it grows more solid as the seeds of doubt begin to unfurl in his chest. he has resisted their attempts to ensnare him after he was caught once, but he easily agrees with all the captain says.

their champion has done so well; the darkness grants him a chance to not just rest peacefully, but to curl beneath the silken sheets of his own bed in the mirror realm, cradled in their power, relaxed and utterly safe. they themselves take the shape of his usual nightly guardian, and he looks at them with such gratitude that they, a primordial divinity, are almost dizzy with the rush of loyalty and worship and power.

it will likely take more work to begin to sway the zombie; chaos has begun to grow suspicious of them, despite balance repeatedly siding with all that the captain says.

oh, how strange that conversation had been. she has always held a bias; now, she has set herself on the side of the dark, with a surprisingly well-planned argument as to why. "the light wants total eradication of the dark," she had said, as if they hadn't already known that. "but you know that no shadow can be cast without some light. it isn't balance, but it at least keeps the scale intact. one of you will win, and i would like it to be you. i will not bow, but i will take your side when necessary."

"and i will accept the favor of the scales and tank," the darkness had told their wild, wayward daughter. at least one of the little godlings has seen sense, which is one more than they had expected. ideally, chaos would have been the one to join them, but this does grant the captain far more stable of a cover. she claims that any questioned action is done in the name of balance, which is not quite a lie.

still, the caveman figures it out after the captain summons his bow and saves both of their lives from a horde of monsters that would have otherwise overwhelmed them. a pity; the darkness had rather hoped for a little longer to silently make their case to him. mianite's champion, of course, reacts with fear. with a devastatingly powerful weapon appearing from writhing shadows, it's to be expected. "you. you're with the darkness. you're a fake."

"i'm not a fake," the captain retorts, far too offended for a man who spars against his best friends' shadows on a regular basis. "honestly. do i look like a bad copy to you?"

the caveman still steps back. "even if you aren't, that's not what you should be worried about denying first, cap."

their champion shrugs. "well, i won't try to deny the truth. my patron has been very good to me. i'll claim them gladly."

"and what about ianite?" the caveman demands, frightened and furious. "you've always been loyal to her! why would you betray her? why would you betray us?"

"i wouldn't," the captain says easily. "i am still loyal to my lady. she has seen that the only chance we have at balance is with the darkness. total defeat of the shadows, angrec says. does that sound like balance to you, then?"

silently, the caveman shakes his head.

the captain lets his bow melt away, and steps forward with an outstretched hand. "have i hurt you, karl? have i taken your gear, or stolen your supplies, or flooded your house, or burned your trees? have i left you behind, let you die when i could have helped? have i?"

"no," the caveman says, his voice small and afraid, though he tries to hide it. from the tiny pockets of dark, they watch him, and see the intimidation written in his tense shoulders and curled fists. he truly didn't expect this. "no. i don't- i don't know why, the darkness is evil, why-"

"they aren't evil," the captain snaps, and the other tenses further. he takes a breath in, out, and forces himself to calm. "i have served the gods for nearly a third of my life," he says softly, intently, furiously. "i have done everything they ever asked. and for what? the constant punishment, the constant threats, the wedge driven between my best friends and i? the pain of feeling my goddess die and shatter apart into countless universes? the privilege of dying a thousand times over and again in their quests and purges? the ceaseless nightmares and visions that i have seen every single night since i first swore myself to ianite? karl, do you have any idea how long it had been since i last slept through the night before my lord let me rest?"

"you never escaped," the caveman says slowly. "they let you go. they let you come back to the isles. they want you here."

the captain spreads his empty hands. "i didn't need to escape. the mirror realm is a lovely place, once you get used to it. no mobs that haven't been summoned for a reason. no petty infighting or squabbles. no forced fighting between friends. i know that the darkness cares for me. can you say the same about the gods?"

the caveman hesitates.

"the gods are still so young," the captain pushes, so gently. "they don't know how to handle their power yet. they haven't even settled into their roles. they don't know yet what's best for the world."

"and you do?" the caveman asks bitterly.

their champion just smiles sadly. "i have seen more worlds than you can count. i have lived and died and lived. i have killed the father of gods, and revived a goddess. i have spent so long as balance, so long setting things right. yes. yes, i do."

mianite's champion has nothing to say to that, only offering a stunned stare.

the captain sighs. "look. i know that this might seem like a betrayal, but you've only seen one side of things. just because angrec is the light doesn't mean that she's good. they're not the same thing. they can lie to us. they can manipulate us."

"so can you," the caveman insists. the darkness sits silently in their champion's shadow, and watches as the other man tilts his chin up defiantly. "you're probably lying about all of this! you're dark!"

"i'm still sworn to ianite," the captain says. "my ianite. if i lie, there will be pretty obvious consequences. ask tom about that part, if you don't believe me. you've seen it happen, when i lied to gandus about the fake stones."

they're both silent for a moment. the other hesitates. "that was before you were- were gone," the caveman says. "prove it."

the captain inclines his head. "i'm a little offended that you asked me to," he replies. nothing happens. "i am still sworn to the ianite of my home realm. i am still trying to do what i think is best for everyone. the darkness has done more to help me than any god ever has. the darkness has given me more protection, more power, than any god ever has. the darkness has been more concerned for me than any god, has been kinder, has been more patient- do you see my nose bleeding?"

"no," he says reluctantly, after a beat.

their champion spreads his hands, and steps forward. "i would willingly hurt you or tom when there was still another path left," he says, and dark red blood trickles down over his lips, a deeper shade than any of the other mortals, a strange shimmer to it. it isn't ichor, but it isn't quite human blood. it hasn't been for a long time.

silence hangs heavy in the air as the too-dark blood winds down his face, the crimson droplets slipping down his chin, to his jaw, down his throat. the champions stare at one another, quiet.

"it's still me, karl," the captain says. "i just have a different patron. tom played at being ianite's follower, lied about it, as his god commanded. i don't hold it against him anymore, and neither do you. how is this any different?"

"i," the caveman says. "i need to think."

the captain nods easily, despite the wary look he gets. "that's fair. this was not a good way to find out. i understand. oh, don't look so surprised, i'm not going to threaten you or anything. you're my friend. just… don't tell tom yet, alright? i want to tell him properly. we've surprised each other too many times."

slowly, so slowly, mianite's champion blinks. and nods.

seeds take root.

the darkness wraps their captain up in approval and shadows and pride, and he curls into them gladly.

mianite remains troublesome. his little champion does not. the caveman does not stand beside them, but like ianite, does not stand against them. he makes a handful of little concessions, helps in a handful of small ways, covers a handful of tiny flaws in their plans. dianite continues to have his own designs on the realm, not that they will ever come to anything.

and dianite's champion is far less trouble than expected.

"i want you on my team," the captain says bluntly, his purring shadow draped across his shoulders, the moonless night rich and dark outside the windows of his tower. the zombie sits across the room from him, in the midst of a supposedly irrelevant conversation, alone. there are no gods here to interfere.

"mate," the zombie says. "you know i'm on your team."

the captain crosses his legs casually, and reaches up to pet his shadow. seated as they are, its absence from its usual spot hasn't been noticed. "we both know that's not what i meant. i want you with us."

the champion of chaos pauses. "i'm not much good at balance. we both know that. i'm not even any good with pretending at it."

"i'm not talking about ianite," the captain replies calmly, not looking away from the cat. they are dancing around what they both know, testing the limits of one another with their gentle phrasing and purposeful ignorance. they each know the truth.

the zombie exhales slowly. "i didn't think you were," he says, and looks up at him with wary eyes. "why?"

"because you're my best friend," their champion says, unshakably loyal. "and i know that dianite has always been… less tolerant of leaving than the others. i didn't want to put you in a place to lie to him."

"why did you turn, i mean," the zombie corrects, though his expression has fallen into something gentler and calmer. "if you of all people found a good enough reason to betray your god, then it must be the best damn reason out there."

the captain looks back up at him. "you know about the dreams," he says, and the other nods. "they swore on their own damn quintessence not to hurt either of you, after i asked, and then they made the dreams finally stop. they stopped blinding ianite, and she sided with us anyway. they've done more for me than all the gods, all but my lady at home. and she's not here."

"it would be useless to fight you," the zombie guesses, folding his arms. "you've always been stronger, and now you have their power on your side."

the captain shrugs. "everything has a shadow, tom. even you. i spar against them. you're better than anyone else, i can promise you that."

there is a long, quiet pause, and the pair politely avoid eye contact as they both struggle with the situation. the zombie drums his fingers on the hilt of his sword, hesitating, then draws it-

and throws it away.

the sword of chaos clatters against the stone bricks, sharp and sudden as it pierces nothing but the silence. the captain looks at it, then to the zombie, a quiet question in his eyes.

"i trust you, jordan," the zombie says, no waver in his voice, no fear in his eyes. "i won't follow the darkness, but i would follow you. you know i would. i killed my first god for you."

"i know," the captain agrees. "thank you. there are a few ways we could keep you from having to fight him, if you like."

the zombie shakes his head. "you need someone to watch your back, if your lord is going to be busy fighting the gods," he says, then pauses. "...karl?"

"knows," the captain admits. "i asked him to keep quiet. he and ianite likely won't stand with us, but they won't interfere. this is the closest chance this world has for balance. limitation of light, or destruction of darkness. they know that."

the zombie nods, and sighs, and holds out a hand. "us against the world, then, with one god between us," he says. "just like old times. what do you need me to do, then, cap?"

the captain smiles, and takes his hand. his shadow stands, stretches, and slinks down to curl at the other man's feet. "just like old times," he agrees. "here's the plan for now."

the darkness watches from the night sky, from their shadows, from the insides of their coat pockets and the soles of their boots. they seem to have a lieutenant now, a right hand to their right hand. they had not expected it; they had predicted at least some resistance, some doubt, if not a full confrontation. and yet, they can feel that burning loyalty in his chest, tied to the captain as firmly as the captain is tied to them. they have followed each other into the void.

how is the darkness any different?

#mianite #mianitian isles #dark jordan #(rings cowboy dinner bell) NEEEEEERFF HOOOUUUSSEEEEE #my. my fic. #long post

[obxfics]

Saltwater Petals on Our Skin

summary: someone moves into shop next door to the Pogues’ surf shack

pairing(s): sarah cameron x OC, john b x sarah cameron, jj maybank x OC, kie carrera x OC

taglist: @summerintheobx​ @kiarascarreras​

a/n: okay i know the summary sucks but this is the flower shop surf shack AU i mentioned a few weeks ago, and its something new im trying! (i know i already have so many things to finish lol but im really excited about this). this will be a multi-chapter fic, and features an OC! the pairings for this fic may seem a bit confusing right now (since those are the pairings for the whole fic not just this chapter), but i hope it has a bit of everything so you all will be happy with it! also shout out to @thatjohnd​ who is practically my co-writer (most everything written in this fic is something we’ve both come up with and screamed about lmao) so without further ado, here is the first chapter!

The first thing John B noticed on his way into work was that the place next door, which had been abandoned for years and then under extreme renovation the past few months, had no workers loitering around but did have an absolutely ancient truck parked outside. For as long as he had been working at the surf shack on the beach, he couldn’t remember a time when that building had ever been occupied, but it looked like now its luck was changing. The truck was loaded, practically overflowing, with plants and pots and soil, and John B could see only one person struggling to move everything from the vehicle into the building. If a new sort of shop was moving in, why was only one employee doing all the work? He rushed over to help the stranger with a particularly large potted plant when he saw they were about to drop it.

“Oh!” the stranger yelped when John B helped them set the pot on the sidewalk. “Thanks for that. Would’ve been a disaster if I’d dropped Petunia here.”

John B smiled as he got a good look at the new neighbor. She was a small woman around his age, with warm brown skin and even deeper brown eyes that lit up as she smiled at John B. Her thick black hair was pulled up and tied back with a bandana, revealing a sheen of sweat at the nape of her neck from all the movement she’d been doing under the hot sun. What really caught his attention, however, were the delicate tendrils of ink flowering over her skin, climbing up her arms and disappearing over her ribs until they were hidden by her tank top.

“You, uh,” he forced himself to speak instead of standing there staring at her slack jawed, “you moving in?”

“Yeah! Opening up a new flower shop,” she replied as her smile grew even wider. “Do you work nearby?”

“Oh, yeah, I work right next door at the surf shack. I’m John B, by the way.”

“Marisol, but most people call me Mari. Nice to meet you, John B. Thanks again for saving Petunia.”

“You name your plants?”

“Not all of them. Sometimes the missus names them. She named Petunia, and I would never hear the end of it if I got her all over the sidewalk.”

John B blinked. He had never heard anyone besides Kie talk so openly about having girlfriends, but it was nice. Mari obviously didn’t have a problem with people knowing, and John B had no problem with hearing it at all. In fact, he thought Kie would be happy to have some sapphic friends. He would need to remember to tell her about them later.

“Glad I could help you stay out of the doghouse,” he joked. “I could help you with the rest of this if you want.”

“You don’t need to be getting to work?”

“Nah, those slackers can manage without me while I help out our new neighbor. After all, what kind of welcome would it be if I left you to handle this by yourself when it’s hot as balls out?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Not a very warm one. Well, then, come on, I’ll show you around the shop. Oh, uh, you’re not afraid of dogs, are you?”

“You kidding? I love dogs!”

Mari grinned at him as she hefted a bag of soil over her shoulder and nodded for him to pick up Petunia. “Then you’ll love Grace!”

As soon as the door was opened, a great beast of a dog zoomed through the entryway, heading straight for John B. Fearing for his life, and for Petunia the plant, John B attempted to side step the creature, only for the dog to fall at his feet and roll onto its back as if asking for belly rubs. John B stared at it, completely expecting it to forgo the docile act and lunge for his throat.

“This is Grace. There’s no need to be afraid,” Mari teased, “she’s an absolute sweetheart. She usually just lays underneath the table while I work.”

He slowly put the plant on the ground and reached out to pet the dog’s belly. Grace was huge, and seemed to e some sort of pitbull mix, but she seemed to be grinning as he got more comfortable and scratched behind her ears. Mari smiled as she passed the two of them to drop the bag she was carrying onto a nearby table. John B finally let Grace hop up and got his first good look at the place. The walls were lined with tables, probably where countless flowers would be displayed, a sliding glass door to a currently empty room, and there was a backdoor that led to a small garden bordering the beach. He was impressed with how gorgeous and grown it already was, beautiful tropical flowers blooming around what looked like a saltwater pond.

“How...” he trailed off, still staring at the piece of paradise right next to his surf shack. “How did you manage to do all this?”

Mari laughed and shrugged, coming up next to him to admire her garden. “I majored in horticulture, and the missus really likes flowers, so... I just put in the work. Took a long time to get this how it is, though. Trial and error with the one at our place.”

“You have this where you live?” he couldn’t keep the awe out of his voice.

“Like I said, we love plants. Hoping to get some fish in that pond there, make a sort of aquaponic system maybe.”

“Shit, you’re like, smart huh?”

“Science was sort of my thing.”

“And your wife?”

Mari threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, she was a fine arts major. But she’s probably more into the science of the flowers than I am. She like validates some of the shit I do with the flowers, but she’s actually read the studies that validate me.”

John B snorted and shook his head. “So the fine arts major knows more about horticulture than you do?”

“What can I say? She’s a genius.”

The two fell into easy banter as John B spent the rest of the morning helping Mari unload the plants and soil from her pickup truck. It reminded him a bit of his van; ancient but in beautiful shape. The truck, though, was probably prettier than the Twinkie with it’s shiny paint job and delicate lettering on the side advertising the flower shop. Around lunchtime, after they had just managed to finish all the unloading, John B leaned against the side of the truck, his forearms resting on the edge of the bed, as Mari sat cross-legged in the bed telling him a joke with Grace’s head in her lap. He found himself surprisingly relaxed with her, as if they were already close friends.

“So what made you choose here to set up shop?” John B asked after he took a sip from the bottled water she’d offered.

He immediately regretted asking the question, because he noticed how Mari’s shoulders tensed up, how her eyebrows pulled in, and how her jaw clenched. He wasn’t sure why, but this was not some simple question for her.

“Oh, well, Sarah is from the area, and I always loved the beach so... it was a no brainer,” she replied, a smile forcing its way onto her face, but John B could tell it wasn’t real. The dimple in her right cheek wasn’t visible, and through the whole morning he’d noticed how it would appear whenever she smiled or laughed. “You from around here?”

“Born and raised,” he said proudly, hoping to move the conversation from what made her so uncomfortable. “Even went to the local college before the old man who used to own the shack gave it to us. Said he was getting too old to be wiping out so much.”

Mari laughed, a genuine one this time, and he relaxed. There was a lot to learn about the shack’s new neighbors, but he had a good feeling. He just couldn’t help but feel like this was the beginning of something great.

#john b #john b routledge #john b x sarah #jj maybank #jj maybank x oc #kie carrera #kiara carrera #kie x oc #pope heyward #sarah x oc #outer banks #outer banks netflix #outer banks fic #obx #obx netflix #obx fic

[blightarts]

Blades of Order & Chaos

Chapter Title: 8 - Rival

Previous Chapter: Lion VS Bear

Word Count: 5239

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Pixelberry. This is my version for the upcoming sequel of Blades of Light & Shadow. I am not claiming this to be the canon story of the book. This is only written to increase the hype for the actual sequel.

MC/Pairing: Kite (Blue Elf Male MC) / Kite x Nia

Taglist: @princessstellaris​ @mechaspirit​ @brightningstar​ @cal-north​ @lxdy-starfury​ @tyrils-star​ @imturaxamara​ @kelseaaa​

In the middle of the Vishanti Kingdom market square, Kade comes face to face with the former prince of Morella, Aerin Valleros. While Threep glares along with Kade, Kite and Bella are left confused.

Kite: Kade, is this person a danger to us?

Aerin scoffs.

Aerin: I’m hurt, Kite. After a year of not seeing each other, you’ve forgotten all about me?

Kade: Kite lost his memories.

The prince raises his eyebrow.

Aerin: Oh? That’s quite unfortunate.

Bella steps up.

Bella: Hold on. Is there some romantic tension that I’m not gettin’ here?

Threep: This young man is Aerin Valleros, prince of Morella, who betrayed his people and aided the Shadow Court in their return.

Bella tenses up upon hearing the words, “Shadow Court”, but composes herself before walking up to Aerin and grabbing his collar.

Bella: So, this li’l fella is a problem to you guys then? Should we throw him off the mountain?

Aerin chuckles and sarcastically raises his hands in defeat.

Aerin: Easy, easy. I’m not even showing any hostility towards any of you… yet.

Kade: What are you doing here? How’d you even survive the Empire’s attack on Whitetower, let alone escaped your prison cell? Did they let you out and got you a spot in their ranks?

Aerin: What’s in it for me if I tell you?

Bella: We don’t let gravity decide your fate.

Aerin rolls his eyes and shrugs.

Aerin: Alright, fair enough.

Bella lets go of Aerin as he dusts himself off.

Aerin: A year ago, after you lot had your first encounter with that coward, Laundsellyn, he took me from my cell and dragged me into the Shadow Realm.

The prince then turns around for a stroll, signaling the party to follow him.

Aerin: After that, I thought I was done serving jail time, but no, they threw me into another cell for my failures in defeating you.

Kade: Well, it serves you right for joining the wrong side.

Aerin ignores Kade’s rude comment.

Aerin: I stayed in that cell for about three months and during that time, I’ve heard from one of the Shadow Guards that once served under me, mocking me and laughing about the news that Laundsellyn killed my father.

Kite notices Aerin clenching his fists in anger.

Aerin: Upon hearing my father’s name, visions began to clutter my mind, visions of the past that I cannot even recall, visions of me… and my brother, Baldur… actually getting along during our childhood…

Threep: I thought you two were at odds with each other until you plunged the Blade of Shadows unto him.

Aerin: That’s what I thought as well. For years, I believed that my brother had always been a condescending jerk who treats people who are beneath him as insects. But no, my memories proved that to be wrong as when we were young, he offered me to be his right-hand man, his closest advisor once he becomes king.

Kade: So, what you’re saying is that the Dreadlord somehow manipulated your memories, as well as Baldur’s in order to tear yourselves apart and use one of you as a puppet?

As the party nears the kingdom’s gates, Aerin stops walking.

Aerin: I don’t know. That’s what I intend to find out.

The prince moves forward once more.

Aerin: I spent my three months in solitary, recalling my memories and struggling from countless headaches, but I could not make any progress whatsoever. And then… he came along, Ignis…

Shivers run up everyone’s spines while Aerin clutches his chest.

Aerin: He visited my cell and “offered” me to join his ranks in exchange for my freedom.

Kade: Well, seeing you here right now means that you’ve obviously said yes.

Aerin turns to Kade with rage.

Aerin: I was not even able to give an answer!

Kade flinches as Kite gets between him and Aerin. Citizens begin to stare at the party.

Aerin: I was dragged out of my cell before that accursed devil casted a spell…

Aerin then tears open his shirt, revealing a Nerada Stone still etched onto its chest while small purple sparks surge through it.

Aerin: …on this damned thing, making sure that I get in line and follow the orders of the elf that killed my father, else I get electrocuted to death!

The prince then grips his hair as he starts to lose it.

Aerin: After that I was worked to the bone, slaughtering innocent people who refused to bend to the Empire and conquering peaceful lands across Morella, all while suffering from the headaches caused by those visions and the shocking pain that this stupid stone keeps bringing unto me!

Aerin then grabs Kite by the collar. Bella grabs onto one of Aerin’s arms.

Bella: Hey! No bright ideas, royal boy!

Aerin: How do you even live while you’re suffering like this, Kite?! After everything you’ve been through, being betrayed, being separated from those you love, being beaten to a pulp, and having your memories lost! How are you still moving forward?!

Kite is speechless while Aerin keeps rambling in tears.

Aerin: I’ve thrown it all away… I’ve surrendered myself to darkness… I’ve betrayed the people who once saw me as their friend… I’ve let my own father die under the hands of the elf I now work for… I’ve killed my own brother all because a dark entity severed our bonds and manipulated our memories…

Threep leans in on Kite’s ears and whispers.

Threep: We should leave quickly. Everyone has their eyes on us.

Aerin: The nesper is right.

Aerin sniffs and wipes his tears before letting Kite go.

Aerin: This should not be settled by just words.

He turns away.

Aerin: Meet me outside of town.

Aerin then walks off while buttoning up his shirt. The crowd avert their eyes from the group as the tension dies down.

Bella: Jeez, that was one helluva ride.

Kade: We can’t let him get away.

Threep: I believe that he wants to settle things with Kite through combat.

Kite watches as Aerin disappears into the crowd.

Kite: I’ll do it.

The party look at Kite with surprise.

Kade: What?! You do know it’s a trap!

Bella: Yeah, he’s with the bad guys, whether he likes it or not.

Kite: I don’t care. I can tell from how Aerin looked at me earlier. It’s like… he’s asking someone to save him.

Kite runs ahead to chase after Aerin while the party hesitates for a second before following suit. Threep gets on Kite’s shoulder.

Threep: I hope you know what you’re doing.

Kite: I am. You guys have to trust me.

Minutes later, in the outskirts of the Vishanti Kingdom, Aerin sits on the snow, gazing at the sky. His head begins to pain as a vision flashes in his eyes.

Aerin: Tch! Not again!

In his vision, he sees his young self being bullied by three kids in the town square of Whitetower.

Bully 1: Go back to your lush life in the castle, Valleros!

Bully 2: Yeah, no one wants you here!

Bully 3: Weakling!

Suddenly, Baldur appears, pushing the bullies away, and gets in between them and Aerin while holding a stick.

Baldur: Hey! Get away from my brother! He may be not as strong as any of us here, but he is sure as heck smarter than the three of you combined!

The bullies approach Baldur, cracking their knuckles.

Bully 1: Now, you’re asking for it, Baldur.

Baldur turns to Aerin.

Past Baldur: Stand up, Aerin. We can take them on together.

Past Aerin: O-Okay…

Aerin stands up and shyly raises his hands in self-defense.

The vision fast-forwards, minutes after the two brothers faced off against the bullies. They have a few bruises scattered around them, but they were victorious in the fight. Baldur is giving Aerin a piggyback ride.

Past Baldur: Good job handling yourself out there.

Past Aerin: You did most of the work…

Past Baldur: Nonsense. It was smart of you to poke their eyes, giving me time to whoop their butts. I’m proud of you.

Baldur grins while Aerin becomes flustered.

Past Aerin: T-Thank you…

The vision ends as Aerin is snapped back to reality and his headache fades away.

Aerin: How…? Where did it all go wrong…?

The prince turns around to see Kite and his friends standing behind him.

Aerin: You’re here.

He stands up and cracks his knuckles.

Kite: I’m guessing you wanna settle this in a fight?

Aerin: Yeah. Once I defeat you, the Hero chosen to defeat the Empire, right here, I will go back to Shadow Realm and claim vengeance!

Aerin puts his hand forward, materializing a polearm surging with Shadow magic. Kade grits his teeth.

Kade: A new weapon from Ignis, I presume?

Aerin: More or less. It’s called the Blackcliff Polearm.

Kade, Bella and Threep steps back.

Kade: Is it really okay for us to let this fight happen while not worrying about an avalanche?

Bella: It’s alright. The Vishanti placed wards around the mountain to prevent avalanches from occurring, guaranteeing the safety of their kingdom.

Threep: That’s a relief.

Kite unsheathes the Mirror Claymore, piquing the interest of Aerin.

Aerin: So, that’s the Mirror Claymore of the Vishanti. Quite the Sacred Treasure.

Aerin begins the fight by charging towards Kite and performs a few swings and thrusts with the Blackcliff Polearm, but the latter uses his elven senses to avoid all of them.

Aerin: Tch! Alright, how about this?!

Aerin leaps up and attempts to plunge the polearm on Kite, but again, the latter hops back, evading the attack.

Aerin: Got you now!

Aerin lets go of the polearm while it is planted on the ground before kicking it.

The polearm spins vertically towards Kite who blocks it with the Mirror Claymore.

Kite: Damn!

As the polearm begins to slow down in spinning, Aerin suddenly lunges forward and grabs it, surprising Kite.

Kite: What the—

Aerin then uses Shadow magic, transforming himself into a purple bolt of lightning, before traveling upwards. Kite and the party look up in awe.

Kade: What the hell is that?!

Threep: He has become stronger since we last saw him!

Three duplicates of the Blackcliff polearm rain down from the sky and plant themselves around Kite. Sparks then begin to appear on their tips. Kite attempts to block the incoming attack with the Mirror Claymore, but Aerin proves to be quicker as his lightning form comes crashing down onto the duplicate polearms acting as lightning rods. Kite gets electrocuted and hurled from the point of the attack, where Aerin is seen crouching down and holding his weapon, plunged onto the ground.

Bella: Sheesh, remind me not to mess with him when he’s this worked up.

Kite gets up while still recovering from Aerin’s attack. The prince stands up and pulls out his weapon from the ground, boasting about his successful attack.

Aerin: How was that?!

Kite: Tch! Not bad.

Kite gets up and dusts off his shoulder.

Kade: Wait, why was the Mirror Claymore not able to absorb the magic attack?

Threep: I believe that Kite was expecting Aerin to strike from above, even though there were duplicates of the polearm around him. However, when Aerin dropped and struck Kite’s guard, it wasn’t a magical attack, it was instead a physical attack. So, it didn’t count to the magic absorption power of the Claymore.

Bella: Then what caused the electric surge?

Threep: Electricity ran from the tip of Aerin’s weapon towards its duplicates while avoiding the Mirror Claymore, overloading them with magical energy to the point where they would explode.

Kade: That was… actually clever.

Bella: He managed to bypass the insane power of the Mirror Claymore.

Aerin rushes towards Kite once more, but the latter stays composed.

Kite: Aerin, you’re not the only one that has grown.

Kite raises the Mirror Claymore and slams it on the ground in front of him, scattering the snow and obscuring himself from Aerin’s sights. The elf then quickly casts a spell.

Kite: Chaos Magic: Moonlight Circle – Mirror Mirage.

Aerin: You can’t hide from me!

Aerin slashes the thin snow wall between him and Kite in half. As the snow parts, the prince comes face to face with multiple duplicates of his opponent, each holding the Bow of Gal’dariel in hand.

Aerin: Wha—

Kade: He used Mirror Mirage!

Threep: An excellent strategy. This should buy the real Kite some time to strike back.

Aerin stops in his tracks.

Aerin: So, this is the spell you used to escape the clutches of the Empire.

Kite and his duplicates draw their bows and arrows while aiming at Aerin.

Aerin: I know that most of those arrows are not real, but one of them can still pierce my body.

The arrows are let loose as they fly towards their target.

Aerin: So, as long as I find the real you…

Aerin does a forward flip, avoiding all the arrows, before slamming his polearm on the ground, unleashing arcs of lightning towards Kite and his duplicates. The arcs pierce through each duplicate as, one by one, they fade from existence, however, as the last duplicate fades away, the real Kite is nowhere to be seen.

Aerin: What?! Then… where is he?!

Aerin looks around, searching for the real Kite, when suddenly, the snow beneath him begins to move. He looks down.

Aerin: Can it be…?

Kite leaps up from under the snow, equipping the Gauntlet of Pain, and sucker punches Aerin, launching him far away.

Bella: Oof, that’s gotta hurt!

Aerin gets on his feet and wipes off the blood, dripping from his lips.

Aerin: But still not enough to make me concede.

He rushes to Kite, who unsheathes the Mirror Claymore.

Aerin: I will...!

Kite swings the Claymore like a baseball bat, but Aerin leaps to avoid it, ready to plunge his polearm.

Kite: Damn!

Aerin: …surpass you!!

Kite swiftly grabs the sharp end of the polearm using the Gauntlet of Pain, stopping Aerin’s attack, before hurling it behind him. Aerin ends up plunging his weapon on the snow.

Aerin: Tch!

He flips away, giving himself some distance from Kite. The two stare down at each other, waiting to strike.

Aerin: Why don’t we both bring out everything we’ve got?

Kite deeply inhales before casting Lion’s Pride, raising his physical attributes. Meanwhile, Aerin channels his Shadow magic, causing purple electricity to surge throughout his body, increasing his speed and agility. Bella steps in front of Kade and Threep.

Bella: We gotta stay back. When their attacks clash, it could be dangerous for us.

The party steps back a few feet and as soon as they did, Kite and Aerin charge at each other. They both swing their weapons, causing a strong shockwave upon collision. The two keep clashing, trading minimal blows and parrying each other’s attacks. While Aerin has the speed to strike before Kite could defend himself, the latter has enough endurance to not flinch from the attack and strike back.

Aerin leaps up, transforming into a bolt of purple lightning once more. This time, more than three duplicates of his polearm drop from the sky and surround Kite.

Kite: Tch!

Kite hops back, trying to get out of the field of polearms, but Aerin quickly descends from the sky, releasing magical energy to the polearms, causing them to burst with electricity before Kite could escape the area of effect.

Aerin: I’m impressed that you were able to survive that.

The light from the electrical surge fades, revealing Kite shielding himself with the Mirror Claymore as it is filled with magical energy that came from Aerin’s attack. However, the elf is left with burns across his body.

Kade: Kite!

Unconcerned with his own well-being, Kite swings his weapon, unleashing a magical projectile, shaped like a crescent and filled with Shadow Magic, towards Aerin.

Bella: Again, with that recklessness. Has he always been like this?

Threep: Sadly, yes, but it’s what got him this far.

Aerin imbues his polearm with Shadow Magic and uses it to cut the crescent in half, avoiding the attack, but as the crescent parts, Kite comes up right in front of Aerin, catching him by surprise.

Aerin: When did you…?!

Aerin then notices Kite conjuring a ball of Cleansing Fire from his hand. Kite swings his hand down, attempting to slam the fireball onto Aerin’s head, but the latter leaps back, evading the attack.

Aerin: It takes a lot more than a ball of fire to knock me down, Kite.

Kite looks at Aerin with a smirk.

Kite; What makes you think that it was going for you?

Aerin: Huh?

Kite slams the fireball onto the Mirror Claymore as it absorbs the magical energy, imbuing it with flames. He then charges forward while Aerin is still in mid-air, in the midst of avoiding the fireball.

Aerin’s Thoughts: Shit! I can’t dodge it! I have to block it!

Aerin holds his polearm up to block the incoming attack, but…

CLANG!!

…Kite disarms Aerin and sends the Blackcliff Polearm flying through the air, startling the latter.

Aerin: No!

The party starts cheering.

Kade: He did it!

Threep: Kite has the advantage now!

Bella: Nice!

As Aerin lands on the snow, Kite kicks his leg, forcing him to kneel in pain.

Aerin: Aah!!

Kite: Aerin… if you let only your emotions fuel your false resolve…

The elf then pulls his weapon back, ready to swing it.

Kite: …then you do not deserve to win this fight.

Aerin stares in disbelief before slowly lowering his head in defeat, accepting his demise.

Kade: Wait… is he gonna…?

Kite grips the hilt of the Mirror Claymore tight before swinging rapidly, aiming for Aerin’s neck, as if he’s trying to behead him.

Threep: Kite!

Fortunately, Kite stops short, with the blade of the Mirror Claymore almost touching Aerin’s neck. The prince’s heart momentarily pauses as he just looks at Kite, with an expression of pity on his face.

Aerin: W… Why’d you stop…?

Kite sheathes the Mirror Claymore before turning away and rejoining his friends. Aerin grits his teeth and stands in anger.

Aerin: Hey! Don’t walk away from me, Kite! Why didn’t you kill me?!

Kite stops in his tracks.

Kite: Because I cannot kill a man who is just asking for a death wish.

Aerin: What do you mean…?

Kite turns to Aerin, who was speechless.

Kite: Defeating me or the Empire? Can you even do that? Or are you just looking for an excuse to get yourself killed to end your suffering, even though it doesn’t work that way? You weren’t even giving your all during our fight.

Aerin: I…

Aerin trembles, slowly realizing how correct Kite is.

Kite: The fact that you can’t even take it upon yourself to end your own life and instead relying on others to do it, means that there’s still a part of you that wants to live on.

Kite turns back to his friends.

Kite: Once you’ve found your real self, the Aerin before the Empire of Ash, before the Shadow Court, before all of this, then come find me.

Kite continues to walk towards his friends.

Kite: I’ll be sure to fight you again… to settle this properly.

The party gathers around Kite, making sure he’s okay, while they all walk away from Aerin.

Kade: Are you hurt?

Kite: I’m fine.

Threep: Did you really intend to kill him?

Kite: I wasn’t trying to.

Bella: Are you sure you wanna face him again?

Kite: As much as I need to until he’s saved.

As the party disappears from Aerin’s sights, he grabs his weapon, before walking the other direction and wandering to himself.

Aerin: My… real self…

As the party and Aerin part ways, Laundsellyn watches from the sky, laying down on a hovering Blade of Shadows.

Sir Laundsellyn: Hehe, that was fun.

He squints and smirks at the party.

Sir Laundsellyn: Now… where could that Priestess be?

————— END OF CHAPTER —————

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