#and if you consider 'off' to be yet another setting in addition to settings one two and three

[terrrrific]

late night.

MR. TERRIFIC had yet another late night with the Justice Gang, flying into your shared apartment at the ungodly hour of 4 AM.

Despite setting down his things with the utmost care to avoid making noise, you stumbled out of the bedroom with a yawn. You obviously just rolled out of bed, throwing on the closest shirt over your undergarments.

"You're back," you smiled tiredly, blinking away the sleep to see him clearly. From the look on his face, you knew exactly what he was going to ask. "Don't start. I was already up."

"Mhm," he gave you a knowing smile, shaking his head. His voice was low and gritty from the long day, sluggishness evident in his tone. "I told you to stop waiting for me. It's not good for your health."

You rolled your eyes as you approached him, leaning over the kitchen island as he pulled off his gloves. "You coming straight to bed?"

"Mhm."

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, which were already trained on your figure. Heat dotted your cheeks as you matched his charming smile; conversation wasn't exactly required to catch up when you knew each other so well. It took a long time to get to this point, but it was worth it.

You rounded him, dragging your hand across the expanse of his back slowly, feeling the lettering of his alter ego underneath your fingers. Curling them around the edges of his jacket, you tugged twice. He got the idea and rolled his shoulders, shrugging it off.

You spared a glance to appreciate his skin-tight suit before turning your attention to the jacket. An idea popped up in your head and you slipped your arms through the sleeves, sighing contentedly at the rush of warmth over your skin and his smell flooding your senses.

You gingerly made your way over the cold tile to the long mirror propped up in the living room. The jacket hung heavy on your shoulders, the hem of it cutting off just under your underwear, and the sleeves spilled over your hands.

You turned, looking over your shoulder and catching the cursive TERRIFIC across your back. The heat on your face grew. His name looked good on you.

He stepped into frame with a gentle hand on your waist. His eyes traced the contours of your body in the mirror—meticulous, as usual. Over time, you got accustomed to his calculating stare and rarely shrink when he studied you.

"It suits you."

"Do I look terrific?" You teased, a sweet smile on your lips as you peered up at him.

He chuckled deeply, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Yeah, baby. Keep it." With a parting squeeze to the fat of your hip, he left for the bedroom.

You frowned, following him into the room. He was already turning on the shower when you entered. "You only have one, though?"

"Since when does that stop you from taking my stuff?" He countered.

True, you conceded. But, "I never take your hero stuff."

"I have replacements."

You stared at him for a moment, a grin spreading across your face. You crossed your arms, or at least tried to with the excess of fabric hanging off your limbs. "Why are you lying? I sleep right next to your closet, baby, you do not have another jacket." You giggled.

He leaned against the doorway of the bathroom, towering over you as he considered your words. "You think I can't get more? It looks good on you, so keep it."

"I—"

"You can keep arguing with me, beautiful, or you can take the win. Either way, it's already yours."

A retort was waiting on your tongue but you swallowed it down with a smile. A big smile. You pulled the jacket wings closer together, getting comfortable in your newest addition to your collection. "Mm," You hummed. "Fine. You win."

He rolled his eyes lightly, a cocky little smirk on his lips. "I always do." His fingers gently raised your chin to meet his lips, kissing you slowly. "I'm sorry it's always late like this," he murmured against your mouth.

Your arms circled his waist, pulling him closer. "As long as you're coming home, I don't care what time it is."

He hummed in acknowledgement as he captured your lips again, tilting his head to press deeper into you. His hands snaked under the jacket, then under your shirt to grasp at your skin and pull you closer. If the jacket was warm, his battle-worn hands were hotter. Your mind spun as you inhaled his scent with every breath, blissed out as he overpowered your space.

You didn't even realize you were moving; he was walking into you, guiding you back to bed.

The mattress hit the backs of your knees, causing you to drop onto your ass. You gazed up at him, half-asleep and half-drunk on the heat of him.

He smiled proudly at your dazed state before retreating back to the bathroom, turning off the lights. "Go to sleep."

first time writing for him, might be ooc but yeah i adore this man sm

[oysters-aint-for-me]

in order to form a more dialectical relationship with my emotions, instead of automatically resigning myself to their extremes, i've making a conscious effort to put my fan on setting #2 (medium) instead of #3 (high) or #1 (low). it is....more difficult than i anticipated

[wonysugar]

ex-bestfriend ewb aeri uchinaga

a/n : no actual moodboard(tm)… no title…. what the fuck is wonysugar even about at this point. also! too many words to consider this a drabble but also not elaborate enough to consider a full fledged fic… take this as a mini-fic and whatnot

cw : heavyyy somnophilia but consent is like kind of established beforehand but not really since they technically don’t fw each other so it’s kinda cnc… whatever any of that means, cheating, masturbation, scissoring, fingering, clit play, aeri’s high as FAWKK. and she breaks into reader’s room, lawl

you guys had fought that day.

like you do any other day, at this point.

apparently! you were talking shit about her stupid, artificial and joke of a relationship to other people. of course you would do that, you had nothing else better to do after all. it’s not like you had exams and other priorities to worry about on a day to day basis!

while it is true you said her and her boyfriend weren’t a good match, it’s not like you spent day and night speaking on her. you simply once stated a fact. nothing more, nothing less.

of course, she didn’t believe that whatsoever.

in fact, she was absolutely convinced you did more than that. she was convinced you actively prayed on her relationship’s downfall, how could she not? it was so painfully obvious; to the way you eyed her down in the bus whenever she talked to him, the way you glared at him whenever he looked in your direction, the way you’d smirk and whisper things to your friend whenever you saw her walking down the halls, stealing glances from her—hell, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like you were jealous of her.

yeah, that’s gotta be it, you were jealous of her!

…is what she believed, anyway.

the truth was, yeah, you were envious… but it was definitely not of her. you couldn't give less of a fuck about him, frankly.

you were envious of him, though. he got all the attention.

aeri was your best friend before becoming his girlfriend. you’re the one who watched her grow up into what she is today, and she was the one to witness your development into young adulthood. you guys went from pushing each other on swing sets and doing your basic addition homework together to getting high together and… what, making out in her room when her parents weren’t home?

hell, he probably didn’t even know you were her first kiss. she probably swore up and down he was her first, anyway.

nonetheless, due to multiple accumulated misunderstandings, that all stopped.

your numerous years of pure friendship and love were killed with nothing but a few crossed wires.

now you just tell each other empty threats and roll your eyes at one another. cute, right?

whatever, you thought to yourself, you’d done enough reminiscing for the day. soon enough, you slipped under the covers of your comfy bed wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and pyjama pants. it was a rather chilly night, you physically couldn’t allow yourself to sleep with no pants on, as saddening as that might’ve been for you.

that being said, you still kept the window open. you enjoyed the feeling of the cold yet light breeze kissing your face whenever you dreamed.

feeling yourself slowly dozing off, your eyes fluttered shut as the minutes pass. eventually, after a few hours, you’re deep in sleep, practically snoring as you’re tightly hugging your teddy bear, laying on your back.

exhausted would be an understatement; you were beat.

so beat that you couldn’t possibly shake awake at the sound of somebody audibly breaking into your room.

that somebody being none other than aeri.

what the fuck was she even doing there? even she herself wasn’t sure. one thing she did know, though, was that she was gonna make you regret ever saying anything about her relationship. of course, she wasn’t thinking rationally whatsoever; the weed in her system had killed every ounce of reason left in her, and she found it more practical to operate with her feelings.

and the feelings in question? they told her to break into your house through that same window you so conveniently left open!

she stepped foot closer to you, watching you sleep. you were absolutely clueless on what was going on near you.

aeri had always found you pretty, but you looked especially breathtaking in that moment. you looked so… peaceful, serene. seeing you like this made her nostalgic; she yearned for the moments where you would look at her with an expression just as warm as that. the moments where she’d talk about something as trivial as a corny song her favorite artist at the time released and you would just... sit there and listen.

you would always listen attentively to whatever she had to say.

her man rarely ever did that. he was always too busy to even look at her when she talked. yet, he's the only one she gives her whole attention to.

funny how that works, huh.

then, she noticed how your graphic tee had seemed to drag itself upwards, unintentionally yet entirely revealing your stomach, as well as the fact itself that you weren’t even wearing a bra underneath.

was that the reason she got on top of you? no, of course it wasn’t; she had a prove to point, that’s what! the point being that you ran your mouth about something that doesn't concern you, and that she was gonna rightfully ridicule and humiliate you for it. she had no problem with touching you in such a suggestive manner.

yeah, she hated your fucking guts now and would rather die a horrible death than sit in the same room as you for more than 5 minutes… but you’ve always had a great body, and even greater tits, that was undeniable.

so, she gently pulled your t-shirt upwards, leaving space for her head and eventually got to licking on your chest while you slept. entranced by the feeling of your nipples grazing her numb tongue, she kept her eyes hooded as she watched out for your reaction. you did squirm around a bit once she started fondling the other breast with her hand, but that was about it. that went on for at least 10 minutes, right? she didn't keep count.

all she knew was that you would’ve felt nothing but pure shame if you knew what was being done to you at that moment. that was the point of this. not because she was dying to touch you, obviously, but because she wanted you to be aware of the power she truly has over you. instead of fucking her boyfriend, like you oh so clearly wanted, she was practically fucking you instead.

you were still in a deep slumber despite all that; you should have already woken up by then, but you didn’t. fortunate for her, although she couldn't help but ask herself, have you been getting enough sleep recently?

nevermind that, she was too into the act of leaving hickeys all over your chest to think about it. aeri didn’t want to think, she was high out of her mind. in fact, she stank up the whole room with the smell of marijuana, she was practically hot boxing you in the comfort of your own bed, whilst you slept. not a single thought of hers was rational, and chances are that's why she had gotten so hot and bothered over ‘ridiculing’ you.

perhaps that's also why she eventually slipped off your pyjama pants and gently hovered your clothed slit with her fingers, getting lost in the feeling of your lips on her fingertips. fuck, your panties were pretty damp, what had you been dreaming of before she got in here?

"you fucking bitch..." she mumbled to herself. she felt herself throb at the sight alone, and that pissed her off. the sensation of her digits dragging along your visibly desperate pussy didn't help, either. her blood ran embarrassingly hot and soon enough, she finished off by completely stripping you of your underwear, unable to contain her desire for any longer. your bare cunt now to the air, exposed and vulnerable only for aeri to see. it glistened under the moonlight that subtly broke into your otherwise dark room through the window, kind of the same way she did.

it was hypnotizing, so much so that aeri could've sworn she was practically drooling from the corner of her mouth. she was so close to just leaning and making out with it, but... she couldn’t. she had other, more important things to attend to; her own warm pool growing in between her legs.

she couldn’t help it, she had to swiftly glide her dominant hand across her lower stomach into her shorts. with a huge sigh of relief, her breath hitched as her middle finger quickly landed on her throbbing clit, rubbing circular motions immediately upon contact. her hooded eyes stayed fixated on you, entranced by the mere sight of you; asleep, your core exposed and vulnerable, just for her.

it didn’t take long for her to slowly slide in two digits inside of herself, biting her lip whilst she fought back a whine, still staring at you. she wanted to touch you so badly, she wanted to use every inch of you to get off, to humiliate you, but that would’ve been too risky. so, she was perfectly content with just pumping her fingers in and out of her entrance for now, quiet squelching sounds filling the silence of the room.

fuck, the weed in her system just made it so, so much better. she was dripping wet just thinking about how confused you would be if you were to wake up. nobody would exactly expect to be immediately greeted by the sight of aeri fucking herself on them right upon exiting dreamland, so that would be a totally valid reaction for you to have.

an adorable one, at that.

she didn’t have to worry about that though, she kept two of her other hand’s fingers inside her mouth whilst simultaneously fingering herself, way to muffle the occasional sounds that slipped out.

that’s, once again, what she believed, anyway.

what she had seemed to forget about you was that you weren’t that heavy of a sleeper, no matter how exhausted. truth was, the nipple sucking was enough to kinda rouse you up a bit, but she was lucky enough to not have fully woken you up, since you quickly drifted back to sleep afterwards.

that wasn’t the case for what came afterwards, however.

aeri, despite her initial plans of playing it safe, had moved on to feeling your wetness on hers; she bit back a gasp as soon as her clit came in contact with yours, soon enough rubbing against it as she held one of your legs in a careful way, leaving space for hers. her mouth agape whilst she looked down at herself grinding, rolling her hips back and forth onto you, the sensation out of this world. fuck, you were so wet for her, and you didn’t even know it.

how embarrassing was that for you.

anyway, she was so caught up in making herself feel good that she hadn’t even noticed you wake up!

“w-what the…” you mumbled, incoherent. then, your groggy eyes widening once you figured out what was actually happening, you raised your voice, “what the fuck?!��“

she shushed you immediately, covering your mouth with her palm, “sh-shut the fuck up… you’re gonna wake up the whole house.”

and she won’t? first thing you heard waking up was a loud ass whimper coming out of her!

onto more important questions… what the fuck was aeri doing in your room? why did she look so fucked up? was she high? what was she grinding onto? why did your body feel so good? why was it so cold in your room? what did she do to you before this? you didn’t have a single clue on anything happening, you felt… used, taken advantage of, objectified by your own ex childhood best friend.

and fuck did you love every second of it once you actually processed everything. was that weird? the thought of her eventually cumming her brains out to you and not to her stupid ass boyfriend was enough to turn you into even more of a mush, despite barely being conscious.

“f—fuck, aeri—“ you'd moan out,

“i know baby, it feels—mmh—good, d-doesn’t it?”

it did, it really did. so much so that you had to cover your mouth with each roll of the hips she did on you, as to not let any potential noises slip out.

aeri had decided to leave the confrontation for much, much later; when she isn't actively chasing the climax of her pleasure. plus, you looked way too good for her to even want to tell you off, it'd make her feel bad. at that moment, all she wanted was to see you lose control under her. your muffled moans like music to her ears, she got more and more lost in the feeling, dizzy and overwhelmed with euphoria. she felt the knot in her stomach get tighter and tighter, until... it snapped.

biting onto the phalanx of her index finger to surpress the moans fighting to escape, her orgasm hit her like a truck, hard.

you, on the other hand, didn't get to cum from just that, however, and that's exactly why she took it upon herself to make you finish on her tongue, eager to taste your juices and hers combined on your cunt.

before the night was over, you both talked it out. granted, it was difficult considering she was still high as shit and you had almost just gotten knocked out from having the best orgasm in fucking years, you still talked. you worked it out on the remix, if you will!

you weren't surprised when news spread on campus that uchinaga aeri had recently broken up with her boyfriend, a few days later.

[lovelyahoy]

Dr. Stone: One-shot.

Word Count:7,858.

Warnings: Not much I can think of, except it's all over the place, and a bit suggestive towards the middle. I needed a quick break from a book I'm writing and these two freaks have been plaguing my mind, so this is basically just word dumping.

Summary: Nothing is really set, some parts are over-explained and others are barely developed, I typed until I got bored. (If you're seeing this again it's because I accidentally posted earlier without finishing aha..)

Pairing: Stanley x Fem!Reader x Xeno

Edit: part 2.

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Endless hours of science had never been an issue for Xeno, he was accustomed to working on the same project for multiple days—even months straight. Science (and Stanley) was his sole love, it wasn't filled with unsolvable scenarios, it always had a solution. His nights at the NASA laboratory were lonely, just how he liked it. No noise, no meaningless chatter, only him and his thoughts.

Stanley wasn't much different in this regard, obviously not science, but his priority in the military (and Xeno). Guiding those bambi-like soldiers brought a thrill like no other, they shot perfectly? It was because of him. They landed a really good calculated punch? Also his doing. He was always expected to be at the top, and no way in hell would he ever let anyone distract him from it.

It wasn't until they met [Y/N], the newest addition to the NASA board, that they discovered another love and priority. She wasn't what they had expected at all, [Y/N] wasn't a scientist or an exceptional engineer, nothing even close to any position they offered at NASA. It only took a few days to find out she was only there as a temporary chair filler, for her father who was out of commission due to a "family issue".

Xeno grimaced as the bubbly [H/C] haired girl, read over his file alongside the other board members. He could barely hold in his anger as they skimmed over his perfectly chosen words, equations and unique idea. One by one, the thick file was placed down and he was met by taunting expressions.

"It's interesting I'll give you that Dr. Xeno, however we can't endorse it. The cost of the inevitable failure will be far too much."

The older generation spewed more words onto the already rejected scientist, yet he could only focus on the girl still holding his file open.

"I don't know much about this position, my father asked me out of the blue to show my presence." [Y/N] hummed and softly closed the file cover, a small—yet mischievous smile graced her glossy lips. "But, he did say I could have fun, and this?" She lifted up his idea and waved it around, "This sounds fun! Let's do it."

"You have no authority to do so!" The voice was loud and rough, it bounced off the soundproof walls and [Y/N] tried hard not to show her annoyance.

"Woah~ I wonder what my father would say hearing you talk to his daughter like that, Dr. Von." She playfully waved him off, keeping eye contact with the blank scientist in front of her.

"If he fails the first, second or even third time, I'll cover the cost. When he gets it right, none of you will have the privilege of profiting a single dollar. How about that?"

Oh how she loved playing around with these greedy corrupt monsters.

As for Stanley, his encounter with [Y/N] wasn't as nerve-wracking as it was for Xeno. No, it was absolutely entertaining to say the least.

The blonde puffed out another trail of smoke, his eyes glanced to the side to see the sprawled mess of [H/C] locks on the bar counter. He hadn't even considered sitting down for this long, but something quietly begged him to sit next to the seemingly tipsy woman.

Her head lifted up to meet his amused gaze, he twitched noticing tears flooding her pretty [E/C] colored eyes. A finger was pointed at his face, close to jabbing his nose. Stanley couldn't help but smile at how silly she looked right now.

"G-get away from me before I do you a favor b-because you're cute!" Her voice came out stumbling and mumbled, he managed to catch onto every single word due to his good hearing.

"Like what?" He teased, playfully twirling a strand of her hair while she failed to push his hand away.

"Like agreeing to pay for your experiments!" Her finger finally managed to boop his nose, "My dad is gonna kill me when I write the $600,000 check, not once but maybe even thrice! All because he was so cute, that stupid cute looking Dr. X."

Oh. Stanley's eyes widened with recognition, his childhood friend had been happily rambling on about his fully funded project, he tuned out the nerdy details and only paid attention when Xeno brought up that it was all thanks to a temporary board member. [Y/N], her name was [Y/N]. There was no way he could forget it, that mad scientist had practically engraved the name into his mind with how many times he mumbled it.

"It's not even about the money actually, but how could I ever say no to him? And you��!" She sighed dramatically, moving her hand away from his gorgeous face. "Don't you dare propose anything!"

He couldn't help but let out a chuckle at her cute rambling, he had to agree wholeheartedly. "Don't worry, I can't say no to him either."

"IS HE YOUR BOYFRIEND? I'M SORRY BUT HE'S SO CUTE I WON'T TAKE IT BACK!" [Y/N] lunged forward grabbing ahold of his shoulders and shook him back and forth, the tears that had disappeared moments ago were spilling again.

Stanley grabbed her elbows gently, stopping her movement. A meek apology left her pouting lips as she settled into her seat, [Y/N] tried to flag down the bartender, desperately needing a shot to down her embarrassment. The man next to her shook his head at the girl behind the counter, she nodded taking away the dirty cups.

"Let's get you home."

After getting her address he made sure her seatbelt was on before driving off, his window rolled down letting the smoke drift out the car. The cigarette dangled from his lips, a hand on the steering wheel while the other guided the cancer stick.

[Y/N] softly snored into the seat, holding onto a pillow she had stolen taken from one of the sofas at the bar. Stanley tried to take it away, god knows what or who touched it prior. He failed miserably, a little ticked off but low-key proud of her deadly grip.

Dropping her off was awkward, nothing Stanley couldn't handle. Still, he was not used to dropping off people he met at bars anywhere other than his own apartment. Her dad managed to wake her up, guiding her back into the grand mansion.

"Thank you for helping her, she gets carried away sometimes." He laughed it off, but couldn't hide the worry in his voice.

"No problem."

"noooo~ dad! Don't let the pretty man leave!" [Y/N] turned around in her dad's arms and made grabby hands towards a humored blonde, her [E/C] eyes were wide filled entirely with sparkles, a small bambi is what she looked like.

She had definitely become his favorite bambi.

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[Y/N] entered the NASA laboratory looking for a certain white haired male, while she had practically forced the board to accept his crazy idea, they needed to skim over a few details before proceeding. Except she hadn't expected both of the different worlds she met yesterday to be standing closely together watching small sparks emit from a glass container.

"Ah, how elegant of you to join us, [Y/N]." She brushed off her heart skipping a beat, the way his voice uttered her name was heavenly.

After remembering last night, she was absolutely mortified. Not only did she ramble to a total stranger, she rambled about their boyfriend! The blonde man hadn't denied or confirmed their relationship, but when her eyes trailed over how tightly he was hugging the scientist with a gentle expression on his face, there was no denying it.

"Yeah, Hi." She squeaked out, walking towards them almost robotically. [Y/N] placed down her notebook and sat on the grey stool, face warming up when Stanley rubbed his cheek against Xeno's affectionately before pulling away.

"I need to know which parts you need, these old assholes decided to leave everything to me as punishment." She huffed, eyes softening before looking at a stone-faced Xeno. "Don't look at me like that! I never said i regretted it or anything."

"I was only joking, dear." He sent her a smile, starting to disassemble the small experiment he had shown Stanley. [Y/N] couldn't help but admire how the sleeves of his white lab coat were rolled up showing off his arms, sure he wasn't super built but it stirred something in her. Her hand slowly raised up to hide her mouth, annoyed at how attractive these two men were.

"Hangover?"

"Huh? Oh, no. You stopped me before I could teeter into that hell."

"I've been wondering, what exactly is it that you do, [Y/N]?" Xeno finished up wiping down the counter and threw away the towels before sitting directly in front of her. His head rested against his hand, elbow propped on the counter.

She noticed the way he crossed his legs too, how could a man look so hot just sitting there? [Y/N] cleared her throat, fidgeting in her seat as she felt both pairs of eyes staring at her intently.

"I'm a medical student, well I was..." A sigh left her lips, "I'm taking a gap year." They didn't press her for further answers, seeing how she made no move to add more details.

"So you're going to be your old man's stand-in for a year?"

"Basically." She chuckled remembering the words her father had given her, "He specifically asked me to annoy the hell out of the board members by doing whatever it is I wanted. Apparently he was fed up with good projects being denied while he wasn't present."

Xeno did remember Dr. [L/N] giving him proper feedback on why they couldn't and could do certain projects of his, he was a man he respected.

"I really have no clue what I'm doing Xeno, so please don't hand me a file filled with a world-ending plan."

"Why, you wouldn't deny it?"

Oh.

Oh.

"NO YOU DID NOT!" [Y/N] stood up quickly, the stool fell to the ground with a loud 'clank'. Her face was beet red trying her best to glare down at the duo smiling at her with nothing but amusement dancing in their eyes.

"Did what? Tell Xeno how you found him cute and that's why you couldn't say no to him? No, I didn't—oh wait." Stanley turned his face away from them and slid open the window to bring out a cigarette.

"If it makes you feel any better, that's news to me."

He was definitely playing with her, the smile on his face hadn't faltered in the slightest. This bastard was having fun.

"Why would that make me fe—just fill that out!" [Y/N] pushed her notebook towards the scientist and stomped out the room extremely flustered.

"So, what do you think?" Stanley exhaled while turning to see Xeno curiously looking at the door she had left through.

"An elegant possibility."

A few months had passed and before they knew it, hanging around the laboratory had become the new normal. Stanley by the window, Xeno playing around with chemicals (and settling very, very far away from the cancer smoke, he didn't need anything blowing up.) and [Y/N] getting distracted by the cool colors the mixtures made.

"Stop staring and get back to studying, bambi."

Bambi. Stanley's oh so 'perfect' nickname for her, she tried to get him to drop the name for weeks but he refused to budge. It bothered her only because of what it represented, a defenseless and cute thing. Only she was allowed to call them cute.

[Y/N] mocked his words under her breath with a high pitch voice, focusing on her medical notes scribbled and highlighted. Even if she was taking a year off to help her dad, there wasn't any time to slack off. Board meetings were so goddamn boring, she couldn't even hide the sparkles that bounced around in her [E/C] eyes whenever Xeno came into a meeting with a progress report or new idea.

"By the way, you guys never answered me. Are you dating?"

They barely reacted to the question, still focusing on their own activities. She didn't know why exactly she craved and feared for their answer, [Y/N] was undoubtedly attracted to them both equally.

Xeno's happy little face while info dumping on them, onyx eyes that lit up whenever she'd ask a question genuinely intrigued by the topic. Stanley, who always teased her but never crossed the line. He knew when to back away and change his words depending on how she was feeling that day, his awareness towards both her and Xeno was...to say the least...hot.

[Y/N] stopped writing, a blush taking over her face when she noticed Xeno peeking over the counter to read her notes. Her heart dropped into her stomach hearing his laugh, she was not going to live this down, was she?

"Inflammation of the myocardium, a great percentage of high risk patients are usually men in their 20 to 40's. Men, men, stanxeno."

"STOP READING IT!"

The medical student was too focused on trying to block Xeno's field of view to notice Stanley walking up to them, he leaned over her shoulder to stare down at the notebook. His face slightly bumped into hers and gave zero indication that he planned on moving.

She knew he could feel her warm cheek pressed against his, Xeno smirked leaning even more forward over the metal table. His face was only inches away from hers, they were messing with her, again.

[Y/N] swallowed the knot building up in her throat, she was deeply embarrassed. Her thoughts on them were running wild from the close proximity of both men, she slammed her book closed—still not moving away from them.

"Why so curious, bambi?"

"Is there a deeper reasoning to your question, dear?"

God the nicknames, how could she ever function like a proper human after hearing the way they called her? She always felt giddy whenever they'd do this, invading her privacy with lingering touches and words falling like sweet honey—but she couldn't ignore the small, teeny tiny part of her that felt as if they were just playing around. To relish in her obvious attraction towards them, something she miserably failed at hiding.

"Am I imposing on your quality time together by always being here?"

[Y/N] was as surprised as Xeno and Stanley, that isn't what she was even thinking at the moment! Why'd she go and say it? Sure she thought of it sometimes but never had the courage to ask, what if they said yes? She'd never be able to meet their eyes again.

A few seconds of silence were starting to scare her, she felt Stanley shift, thinking he was pulling away until warm lips pressed again her cheek softly. Her [E/C] eyes widened keeping eye contact with Xeno, who raised a hand to brush a strand of [H/C] hair behind her ear. They both pulled away at the same time, leaving a stuttering [Y/N] to collect her thoughts that were in shambles.

Her fingers lightly pressed against her cheeks, one where the kiss was placed and the other where Xeno's fingers brushed by. She took a hand away, blush intensifying seeing the purple lipstick staining her fingers. [Y/N] took a deep breath in before looking up at them standing next to each other now, brain melting when Stanley wrapped an arm around the scientist, Xeno caressing the blonde's face as they both continued to stare at her.

"We've never labeled it, it's like an open relationship."

The girl in front of them deflated comically like a balloon, face almost slamming onto the table. Nope, all her dreams and fantasies had been drained at that sentence. She liked-liked them, both. An open relationship meant their loyalty lied emotionally between them but not physically, she couldn't work with that. The faces they were giving her stirred nothing but worry within, almost like an invitation to join them on this little adventure.

[Y/N] badly wanted to scream yes! and take the opportunity they were offering on a silver platter, sure it'd be okay at first...however in the long run she knew jealousy would win her over. They wouldn't be hers they'd still see other people while being with her, and the [H/C] haired girl wouldn't be able to emotionally endure it.

"I see."

"You sound disappointed, dear." Their little show melted away, awkwardly glancing at each other when they noticed her flustered state disappear into a neutral expression.

She sighed lightly, might as well try and get over her feelings now rather than letting them grow further. Her fingers twirled the mechanical pencil as a way to fidget, building up the courage to spill her words.

"I like you both." Their faces didn't change in the slightest, they knew already. "As much as my heart is telling me to leap at the offer, my brain is encouraging me to step away before I hurt myself."

[Y/N] started to pack her things, avoiding their eyes. Oh my god, she was going to jump off the fucking NASA rooftop after this. She didn't want to keep talking but it felt like word vomit.

"I'm interested in a relationship with just us three, having other people linger in-between would make me feel like I'm not good enough for you guys." She zipped the backpack and hugged it close to her chest, hiding the bottom half of her face. "Thank you for today." [Y/N] rushed a polite bow and made her way to the door.

Before she could even grab the handle, a hand landed on her head, it turned her to come face to face with Stanley. She couldn't muster up the courage to ask what he was doing, but she didn't even have time to. His lips landed on hers, an arm wrapped around her waist colliding her into his chest and in turn causing the backpack to slip from her arms.

A few tears built up as she indulged the blonde, his lips were soft, avoiding rushing her. It only took a few milliseconds for [Y/N] to return the kiss, lips parting and allowing him to slip in his tongue. She'd never kissed anyone like this, it left her feeling vulnerable, like her heart was on her sleeve.

Her hands cupped his face with a gentle grip, she wondered if his body hurt bending down slightly to kiss her. [Y/N]'s lips slipped from his, only to get pulled back in quickly. Xeno took this opportunity to stand behind her and nuzzle his face into her neck, unbuttoning her white collared shirt and slipping it down from one of her shoulders.

His own lips made a trail from her jawline down to her neck and across her bare shoulder. One of the hands on Stanley's face was moved back to come in contact with Xeno's. He cupped over her hand with his own and continued to pepper kisses on her [S/C] skin, a whimper was muffled.

The tears finally escaped her eyes, trailing down her face. The droplets landed on both men, they pulled away from her still holding [Y/N] close.

"D-don't do that!" She unenergetically hit Stanley's chest, "Don't give me false hope.." her sniffles echoed lightly in the laboratory, she was flooded by nothing but embarrassment.

"Let's do it." The blonde ignored her weak fists against him and wiped away her tears, Xeno gently turned her head to place a chaste kiss against her swollen lips.

"Just us three, right my dear?"

[Y/N] woke up the next morning feeling like she was on top of the world and still drowning in shyness. Her face was stuffed into a pillow, concealing her squeals. She kicked her feet roughly, leaving her personal maid to hide her smile behind a hand.

"Ruby, I'm so happy I could dieeeee."

"Please don't, Miss [Y/N]."

Ruby had never seen [Y/N] this giddy, she was absolutely over the moon. Her trip down memory lane was cut short when the loud sound of the girl in her care falling reached her ears, she hurriedly walked around the bed to see the mistress still letting out happy noises.

"I'm going on a date with them! Help me pick out the best outfit Ruby!" It was barely noon on a sunday, NASA had issued a full day off to every employee, why? She didn't care to listen for the reason, her ears were preoccupied hearing Xeno and Stan plan a date.

"Them? Are they gender neutral?" Ruby caught all the clothing being thrown out the closet, doing her best in the thick maid outfit she always had inside the manor.

"Huh? Oh, no, them. As in, two." The poor maid couldn't even dodge the shoe thrown her way, hitting her square in the forehead and falling back.

"Shit! Ruby I'm so sorry!" [Y/N] frantically bounced around the dizzy woman, Ruby blinked her hazel eyes twice before settling them onto the worried rich girl.

"How will your father react?"

haha...oh,

"I didn't think of that."

Her father sent her to NASA to fuck around with the board members, not fuck with employees! Well technically Stanley was only there during his free time, but still! She couldn't go up to him and say, 'Hey dad! I managed to piss the old dudes off, and I got myself not one, but two boyfriends!'

World end her now.

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"Oh my gosh!" [Y/N]'s body was over Xeno's shoulder, face a few inches away from his screen. Unfortunately Stanley was too busy to come by for the week, so it left the mad scientist and the medical student to hang out together.

Xeno held a firm hand on her midsection, holding [Y/N] up to the best of his ability. He was in the middle of responding to his mentee, completely immersed in the lengthy email consisting of rocket science, when [E/C] eyes landed on the picture of the white and green haired boy holding a test rocket.

"He's so cute!" She poked the screen, ignoring the English gibberish of science littered around the zoomed-in picture. "He's like a mini you."

"[Y/N] dear, you're crushing me." She apologized and got off of him, scooting her chair closer and settling next to him. He smiled feeling her shoulder bump into his and stay there, [Y/N] had been a little reserved with her physical contact towards them but after two solid month of dating she'd gotten comfortable and extremely cocky.

Xeno didn't mind it, he felt pride knowing she felt lucky to have him, even if he felt like him and Stanley hit the jackpot instead. The blonde usually tuned him out during his rambles, that didn't bother him in the slightest, Stan listened when it was important and that was good enough for him. [Y/N] on the other hand, indulged him quiet often, even if she didn't understand most words and comparisons, her questions and interest made his heart fill with a warm feeling.

"I still can't believe an elementary kid built a rocket, that actually went up in the air..." Her childhood was filled with music up until she picked up a book about hearts in her big library, at the mere age of eight she completely spent her time studying. To acquire the ability to help as many people as she could, sparked something she couldn't understand. Xeno tried to explain the feeling in his usual science-y way and she got lost along the words.

"He's from Japan, reading and writing these emails using an English dictionary. Senku's efforts are quite elegant."

"Devoted little thing isn't he? I wanna meet him and pinch his chubby cheeks." She cooed once again at the picture, whining when Xeno clicked off of it and continued scrolling through the information.

"Fawning over a different scientist is—" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before his face was being quickly peppered with light kisses, from his forehead to his cheeks, to his nose and finally his lips. [Y/N] pulled away and snuggled back into his side, leaving him with enough space to type away at the keyboard.

Xeno didn't continue speaking, trying to fight the light red on his face before she could glimpse at it. She effortlessly achieved flustering him on multiple occasions, something Stan regularly tried—and failed at. If he knew, he'd never let Xeno forget it.

"That part, isn't it like $10k? How is a kid going to get that?" Xeno smirked adding a picture of said part, a machinery she had to purchase multiple times because he kept exploding it. [Y/N] grabbed her phone and used a currency exchanger to see the total in yen, ¥1.5 million.

"A true scientist finds a way."

"Seriously? Tell him to send you his address!" Xeno's eye twitched as his girlfriend pulled out a checkbook, scribbling a big number obscured to him. "I'll set up a card for him, hmm but can he buy stuff in dollars while he's in Japan?" She tapped the pen against her chin.

"Oh! I'll just make it an online account so he can order the parts instead." The scientist didn't even try to interfere, knowing full well rich people just thought differently from the rest. He finished up writing his email and added a small note at the bottom.

'P.S, you'll be receiving an email from [L/N]_@NASA.×∆×.com.'

Senku had read an article about [Dad Name] [L/N], a genius who built one of the strongest rockets recorded in history. He was excited to receive some sort of mentorship from the older man, sure Dr. X was plenty of help, but more couldn't hurt.

The boy had just come back from school, eagerly rushing towards his computer ignoring Byakuya's yelling for him to go eat. He skimmed through his emails, first reading an update from his mentor then his eyes sparkled seeing the anticipated email appear at the top of his inbox.

'Hi! Here's an account with around 10 million yen, it's in American currency so you'll have to order online. Have fun, oh! And make sure to send more pictures.'

Bank of America details:

User: [Y/N]Senkufund

Pw: adorablesenkufund223

Love, [Y/N].

...

...

What the hell? The entire email was littered with heart symbols. Adorable? Who was this [Y/N] weirdo? Despite his suspicion, the email address checked out with what Dr. X mentioned. He opened a new window tab and went to the bank website, typing in the details. His scarlet eyes lit up with ¥ signs, he could get past the creepy message if it meant he could buy the parts he needed. It was temporary until his dad managed to be an astronaut an get his very own NASA card.

Senku typed out a hasty thank you, his mouse hovered hesitantly on the add image option. He had taken a new one just recently with Taiju included, it was them covered in ash from a mild explosion, should he send it? He glanced at the money this person sent, well it wouldn't hurt to do it once right?

He was startled at how fast the reply had come. He didn't bother reading much of it, noticing the paragraph beginning with capitalized letters and once again, being plastered with hearts all over. The title itself was five red hearts.

Despite thinking it'd be one time exchange, this [Y/N] person toned it down after a few more exchanges. Senku had even looked forward to their little medical lessons, it was a type of science after all.

'So you weren't a complete oaf. Good to know, I was starting to doubt Dr. X.'

+Image attached

-Senku.

That offended [Y/N], how dare this little bok-choy looking kid doubt her boyfriend? The image sent made her forget his initial words, squealing at how cute the boy looked grumpily looking into the camera holding his latest science project he presented at his school fair.

'I know I promised no more hearts but you're too cute! ❤︎❤︎❤︎ Once I get married I'll adopt you.❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

Love, [Y/N]❤︎'

-

'Already adopted, and who would even marry you?'

-Senku.

The little gremlin chuckled, slurping his ramen. The sound of a new inbox and Senku choking on his food filled the room. He blinked frantically at the response.

'First of all, I'd win the court case if i wanted.

As for marriage, it's going to be your dear Dr. X and someone else, obviously~

Love, [Y/N].'

Senku could only focus on his mentor being in cahoots with this mental case, he was definitely going take the logical route and avoid taking this path.

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[Y/N] groaned into Stanley's chest, body feeling extremely sore. She had jokingly encouraged her blonde boyfriend to teach her how to shoot a gun, that turned into a full blown training regiment he made. It included physical training and he even body slammed her! (very carefully, but not the point.)

The mixed smell from his earlier cigarette and cologne filled her nostrils, at first it did tickle her nose, now she was used to it and even longed for it throughout her days. She could cope at work when Xeno was around, still, having the blonde away from them felt like an eternity.

"Did you learn anything?" He was amused by the sounds she was making, he held her in his arms, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on her back.

It wasn't until his girlfriend slept over for the first time that he and Xeno found out she slept with a long T-shirt and her underwear, obviously now she constantly stole their shirts, sometimes finding them back in the closet with a cute gloss lipstick stain. Stanley was guilty of doing this himself, with purple of course.

After starting an established relationship between this little doctor in the making and his childhood friend, both men agreed to get their own apartment together. [Y/N] mentioned wanting to stay with her dad while he was usually at home now, planning to move in with them after the year passes.

"Yes, three things."

"Hm?"

"That you look really fucking hot when you're drenched in sweat." She snuggled closer into him, blushing when his hand gripper her hip in response. "You look even hotter holding a gun, and...when you uh..." her words were low and muffled.

Stanley heard them loud and clear, mumbling like that only worked with Xeno. He smirked flipping their bodies over, her legs were wrapped around his hips due to the startle he gave her. [Y/N]'s blush intensified when the blonde caged both her hands above her head, his free hand performing a 'tactile exploration' near her inner thighs. The pads of his fingers left lingering tingles on her skin, a gasp flying past her lips when they made contact with her clothed clit.

"When I had you at my mercy, huh?" Repeating her words with a teasing tone, Stanley leaned forward while pulling her shirt up above her bra. His purple lipstick left marks on her cleavage before slowly descending down her stomach, hips and lastly a quick kiss on her underwear.

"Stan.."

"[Y/N].." He mimicked her breathless tone, annoying her and barely avoiding the knee she raised to his face. They stayed in that position gazing into each other's eyes, her [E/C] irises relaxed significantly. [Y/N] lowered her knee and settled it around him again, the heels of her feet slightly digging into his back pushing him lower onto her.

Stanley release his grip on her hands and welcomed the embrace, allowing his head to rest between where her neck and shoulder met. [Y/N]'s fingers tangled into his slightly long blonde hair, massaging his scalp.

The sound of keys jingling and the front door opening made them both glance a their bedroom door, silently waiting for the person to walk in. Xeno came in loosening his tie and dragged it down, showing off a bit of his collarbone. He sent them a tired smile and walked towards the closet, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and slipping it off.

"Did you see that, Stan? Him and ties.."

"He never lets us take it off for him."

"Because it always ends up in sex."

Xeno finally slipped on more comfortable clothing, folding his lab coat and setting it in the laundry basket. He walked towards the bed, immediately getting pulled into a hug. His stress melted away as his partners cooed him gently, the new position consisted of Stanley slightly propped up by two pillows, followed by [Y/N] resting her back against him and finally Xeno's face squished into her chest. Arms wrapped around each other in any way possible.

"They held you up for so long, is everything okay?"

"The board was trying to convince me to swap sponsors, my project is estimated to bring a huge revenue." The laugh leaving his girlfriend causes his body to move up and down alongside her chest, he huffed a chuckle in response.

Stanley reached over to massage Xeno's tense shoulders, watching the scientist groan happily in response. No further words were exchanged, all three relished in comfort.

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A happy [Y/N] bounced down the halls of the NASA building, eventually making it down to the break room where a lot of employees gathered to eat or talk together.

She no longer wore a work outfit, her year was up and now was fully focused on her career (for the most part). Most of them didn't know who she was, except one present man who always greeted her every morning she came in.

"Good morning [Y/N]!" Byakuya greeted her with a bright smile, [Y/N] turned to gaze at the newest addition to NASA. Despite only being there for a month or so, he'd become a friendly face. He opened the shared fridge, chuckling when she put a black plastic container with a cute heart-shaped note on it inside.

"Your boyfriend sure is a lucky guy." The older man raised an eyebrow when he caught glimpse of another lunch inside her backpack, she didn't react to him noticing nor did she try to hide it.

[Y/N] wasn't aware of his concerned gaze, thinking solely on how late Xeno would be getting home today. She had made an earlier stop at the laboratory for a quick kiss and was sadly sent on her way right after. A sigh left her lips, she turned to look at Byakuya who now held a tight lipped smile—an eyebrow raised at his changed expression.

"Yeah he is, well I'll see you later Byakuya, I have to go drop off lunch for my boyfriend." [Y/N] waved making her way to the door.

"Bye [Y/N]—" the door closed, "wait, what?"

He turned to look at his coworkers who shrugged in response, why did he have to witness or hear this? He didn't want drama, but letting someone string along a fellow coworker felt harsh and guilt overwhelmed him. Byakuya opened the fridge to glance at the note.

'YOU BETTER EAT IT XENO.

Love you, [Y/N]❤︎''

Xeno, Xeno, that Xeno? He had seen him very few times, the scientist spent 90% of his time cooped up in the laboratory. Woah, never would he had expected the serious white haired male to be dating such a cheery person. That thought brought down his mood, how should he bring it up?

Byakuya didn't get much time to think it over, seeing the man clouding his mind walk into the break room and head straight over to the coffee pot. His thermal cup was black and littered with colorful stickers, he noticed they resembled the shape of hearts [Y/N] always drew.

"[Y/N]?"

Xeno noticed the finger pointing at his cup, a huff of amusement left his lips before nodding. "She insisted on it, mumbling something about marking territory."

"I hope I don't offend you, uh—" His voice froze when the scientist turned to give him his full attention, head slightly tilting and encouraging him to continue. "Ithink[Y/N]isseeingsomeoneelseotherthanyou!"

"Is that right?" Xeno quickly took a sip of coffee, a perfect way to hide his smirk and compose himself. "How un-elegant, say, Byakuya right? Would it be too much to ask if you could find out for me? Lately I've been stuck at work, leaving almost no room to speak to my partner."

...

...

"WHAT!? BYAKUYA WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR!?"

After a solid week of being ticked off by the older man's squinting gazes, and always asking her about her earlier or later whereabouts, [Y/N] finally had enough and cornered him once everyone left the room, he was sweating bullets when she asked what was wrong. The glint in her [E/C] eyes scared him like nothing else.

To which in a state of panic, he replied with a rushed "ARE YOU CHEATING ON THAT SCIENTIST?"

"Ah! I'm sorry but i couldn't ignore the signs! And when I asked Xeno, he asked me to figure it out for him."

"Oh that motherfucker," [Y/N] made a strangling motion with her hands, scaring the poor man in front of her. "Xeno and I have another partner okay! I'm not a cheater."

The amount of apologies that spilled from Byakuya were starting to overwhelm her, tears threatening to spill out as his body flung back and forth in a fast bowing motion. She awkwardly pat his shoulder, accepting his apology. From an outside perspective she guess it did look suspicious, Xeno was going to pay for this.

"Don't listen to that disney villain, he may look serious but he's a mischievous little thing."

"H-have I met them?" His attempt to change the conversation topic was easily received, her aura took a complete turn into a gushy looking fangirl.

"You've probably seen him around Xeno, he's a soldier. Tall, blonde, pretty face, caramel eyes, wears purple lipstick, hot, always smoking, did I say hot already?" She rambled a few more compliments before clearing her throat.

"His name is Stanley, Xeno and him were technically together before they met me."

"How does it work? I'm curious, a relationship with one person is sometimes very complicated, I can't wrap my head around three people in one."

That is how Byakuya had become her gossip buddy, how she frequently chatted up a storm while balancing her focus onto her studying, always astonished him.

The following night had the polyamorous couple sitting at their small dinning table, the girl sat in the middle while both men sat at the ends of the table—still close enough to each other though.

"You let him think I was a common whore!" [Y/N] angrily shoved a spoonful of rice into her mouth, cheeks puffed out and [E/C] eyes glaring into Xeno's soul. He couldn't take her seriously, to him she looked like a squirrel right now.

"Stan, tell him something." Her eyes were wide, sending a pleading face to her soldier boyfriend, he playfully ruffled her hair before turning towards the amused man.

"Bad Xeno."

"I'm going to choke you fuckers."

"Oh? sounds like a threat."

"That's right!"

"Would it perhaps be happening in the bedroom?"

[Y/N] stopped. Stanley stopped. Hell even Xeno's eyebrow raised at his own words, he wasn't one for sexual desires, usually leaving it up to his partners to decide and act it out. He smiled down at a [Y/N] who scooted closer to him with no traces of her earlier fake anger, she looked like a curious kid.

"Did you mean that?" she whispered, truly wondering if she heard him wrong.

"Shall we find out?" [Y/N] glanced back at Stanley who only shrugged in response, he didn't know what was happening either.

"Ok, you're forgiven." She snatched up the plates and the cup in the blonde's hand, practically throwing them into the sink. "Bedroom now."

"I think you awakened something within her." Stanley stood up and pushed his chair in, making eye contact with a sweat dropping Xeno.

"How...elegant.."

(He was scared.)

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The soft light of the candles decorating the dining table made her [S/C] skin glow, she blinked curiously as her boyfriends of nearly three years now stood in front of her. They quickly shared a glance then nodded, they both dug into their suit pockets and each took out a small velvet colored box.

Her [E/C] eyes filled with tears when they opened them, in Stanley's box laid a beautiful ring with a honey colored gem shaped like a diamond. Xeno's was the same size and shape, but his had a black diamond.

"[Y/N], when we first met—"

"YES! YES I WILL!" She extended her hand out, eyes closed and sporting a huge smile on her face. Hearty laughs reached her ears as she felt the rings slip onto her finger, a hand brushed away the tears on her face.

She opened her eyes to see them holding out two more rings, this one had a gem with the same color as her eyes. Xeno and Stanley held out their own hands, already wearing each other's colors. [Y/N] softly slid her ring right above the other, quickly taking out her phone to take a picture of their hands.

"I love you both." The [H/C] haired girl sniffled as they brought her into a sandwiched hug, their own confessions tickling her ears. To say she was happy was an understatement, she felt a bit bad not letting them pop the question in their own way—however her eagerness had won over her rational thinking.

It was a bit unfortunate they couldn't legally get married, despite this minor thing, she happily gushed about her husbands to anyone who asked about her rings. Some were understandably confused or amazed, [Y/N] defended her relationship with every fiber of her being no matter what comment was thrown at them. Both guys often told her to ignore it like they do, but it made her mad how people had the balls to question them so rudely at times.

"My baby is all grown up!" [D/N] wiped his tears away with a handkerchief, Ruby providing a new one every few moments.

"We celebrated on our own already, but I remember you made me promise to let you plan my future wedding." [Y/N] gave her dad a bright smile, "So go for it."

"Of course darling, it's time to show everyone how my daughter is the only one who could bag two successful men at once."

"Okay, where in the world did you hear that term?"

"From this app called tweeter, people are very funny there. [Cousin's name] got it on my phone."

"Delete it and go back to reading your nerdy articles."

The wedding ceremony was held in her old home's gigantic backyard and it was absolutely beautiful, the gleeful bride was chatting away with her bridesmaids, leaving both grooms to stand by the wine station. Stanley's fingers itched to hold a cigarette, although because he promised to avoid it for today, he was coping with wine—glass after glass.

From the red carpet leading up to the wedding arch, to the flowers on every table and grass, it all screamed money. Xeno's eyes lingered on the snack table, filled to the brim with expensive looking dishes ranging from caviar to weird looking oysters, and…were those golden flakes?

"Stop drinking like a madman, Stan."

The blonde could only smirk, leaning down to place a kiss on Xeno's cheek before pouring himself another glass. The scientist could only smile in return, his heart bloomed with pure warmth.

"Our wife looks quite elegant." She wore a white dress with a sweetheart neckline, fabric hugging her waist and hips tightly before flaring out near her mid thighs. Her veil was removed earlier by them, showing off her [H/C] hair styled perfectly into a bun with curly strands framing her face.

"Best part of today." Stanley's eyes softened up seeing [Y/N] making her way towards them, surprised when her cheek puffed out close to his face.

"You gave Xee one..."

Oh.

[Y/N] refused to clean up the dark purple lipstick, showing it off with every ounce of pride she could muster. After what felt like a billion pictures, she made a quick trip to her room and changed into a much lighter and shorter dress. It didn't take long for the girl to start stumbling in her heels thanks to downing five glasses of alcohol in a short span of time.

"I'm so happy, we're getting married!"

"Last time I saw her drunk was when we first met."

"Think she agreed to our proposal because we're cute?"

Stanley chuckled, "I wouldn't put it past her." they both watched her stuff her face with anything she came across with adoration in their eyes.

"Not going to dance my dear?" She gazed at the guests moving in sync with the slow song.

"We can dance in private later."

"You've gotten quite bold, bambi."

[Y/N] wiped away the sauce that stained her lips with a napkin, turning to look at them. "No offense hubbies, neither of you can dance. I'm saving you."

That didn't stop her from swaying around them, playfully twirling them as she bit into a cookie. They indulged her cute antics throughout the night, even having a few minutes of Stanley forcing Xeno into a very intimate dance of waltz. By the end of the celebration, both [Y/N] and Xeno were plastered with purple stains over their faces and neck.

Very few guests lingered, most had given their blessings and bid them a goodnight. They stayed in their own little bubble, the very annoying topic of a secret gathering they needed to attend in about a week came up. Strange appearances of stone swallows were being posted online, surprisingly Senku had been the one to post a full article on it, giving the scientists at NASA a bit more information.

[Y/N] was only attending because she was nosey, and no way she was going to spend a week of her honeymoon vacation alone. Even if it was work only, she'd sure as hell be next to them.

"Right after that stupid meeting, we're settling in our room and staying there forever!" Stanley gently took away the half empty glass from her hands, downing it himself to avoid her getting even more wasted.

"You'll get to meet that Dr. Chelsea girl you found adorable." Xeno knew exactly what to say to lighten up her mood.

[Y/N] brought their hands into her lap, squeezing both with a smile on her face. It had been a few days and still, she couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she was married to her soulmates.

"Tonight was amazing, we should do it again and again....we can, right?"

"We can."

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Xtra thing

"—god I miss my husband's blonde hair." [Y/N] had her body sprawled dramatically on the boat's floor, an amused Xeno sat nearby with his hands tied together.

"Wait, I thought you were married to this weird man." A blonde girl with blue eyes blinked at the whining woman, she was 100% sure [Y/N] mentioned "My husband's really smart huh?" while hugging Xeno.

"No way, she was talking about the other dude." Chrome nodded his head along with his words.

"Who hugs someone like that, while saying—well that!"

"A woman who has two husbands." Senku walked into the room, narrowly avoiding the hug sent his way. "This idiot managed to trick them into marriage."

"I did no such thing!" [Y/N] shoved her hand into the leek's face, showing off her glittering rings. Right before the beam reached them, she saw one of Luna's boy toys stuff a ring into his mouth—not having any time to rationally think, she did the same. Waking up and seeing her hubbies with nothing on their finger had her depressed for the first few months, until Xeno replicated them once again.

Before the teenager-not really a teenager anymore could untie the older scientist, his wrist was grabbed by the [H/C] haired doctor. His scarlet eyes filled with confusion.

"Leave his ass tied, not only did he issue a kill order on my child, he looks hot like this."

"I'm not your damned child."

︽❀═══❀═══⌘═══⌘═══❀═══❀═══⌘═══⌘═══❀═══❀︾

help idk.

[wandasaura]

BENT RIGHT TO YOUR WINDS

summary — visiting your wife at work has become a normal part of your routine, but when she gets particularly handsy one afternoon, you find yourself christening her office whether you like it or not

warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, consensual free use, established safeword (it’s not used), public play, office sex, groping, nipple stimulation, choking, teasing, semi brat!reader, oral fixation, fingers as a gag, thigh riding, spanking, fingering, praise kink, slight degradation, making out, nearly getting caught, alludes to aftercare, wanda in a lab coat deserves a warning, men/minors dni

authors note — happy happy happy birthday to @godhatesgoodgirls !!

kinktober

The day had felt askew since you’d rolled out of bed, something amiss in the routine you’d settled yourself into since moving to the small beach town Wanda had secured a promotion in just seven months prior; when the weather had been warmer and the leaves had been vibrant with hues of green. You bristled at the breeze that swept off the shore the closer you got to central town, able to see the rippling high tides if you craned your neck just slightly to the left and peered through the shrubbery that framed an old ice cream parlor named ‘Sprinkles’, but your gaze was fixed on the large brownstone building that you’d initially sought out, your thoughts spiraling as you considered the misleading appearance. The work that was done inside was prestigious, innovative, a true slice of the future right at the fingertips of those that had access to the futuristic laboratories inside, but the outside fit the quaint white picket fence aesthetic of Westview seamlessly. Had you never been inside before, had you not been married to Wanda who left each morning in a wrinkleless white coat, you’d have thought it was just another Mom and Pop shop for tourists to ogle at, but you weren’t blinded by ignorance – for once you were liberated with knowledge and effortless love. 

You smiled softly at Darcy as you stepped inside, finally away from the chill that October had brought with it. The warm nights and blisteringly hot days of September were long behind you, replaced by the unforgiving assault that fall brought upon you and the other residents of Westview. The thick burnt orange and brown flannel around your shoulders did little to keep you warm, but at the very least it provided a sanctuary for your hands to hide away in as you walked the short mile from your two story house to the identifiable brownstone with ‘Romanoff Industries’ pinned to the front. There was a styrofoam jack-o-lantern on the front desk, and a string of harvest leaves behind the counter as well. The touches of decor were soft, delicate, but enough to revive the spirits of those that trekked into work each day; a thoughtful addition that didn’t make the routine of life feel so mindless. 

“Wanda’s in her office.” Darcy’s smile was sweet as she nodded her head toward the elevator despite knowing that you preferred to take the stairs. You wouldn’t call her a friend, but she was always a comfortable face to see when you made the journey into town to visit Wanda during her lunch break. Since April when you’d come to help set up the office space despite Wanda keeping her decor minimal and devoid of heavy personal connection, she’d picked up on your habits, and it had become something of a running bet to see how long it would take for you to give into her quiet pestering. You’d yet to take the elevator, and Darcy huffed quietly from behind the desk as you pointedly avoided the silver plaque with glimmering white buttons to instead enter the stairwell, which was decorated with a wooden pumpkin sign hanging from a single clear command strip. 

Natasha was definitely the one who had decorated, that much was obvious as you glanced at the decorations hung up within the interior of the stairwell. She was a very business oriented woman, that much you’d come to know since getting acquainted with Wanda’s coworkers and all of their unique relationships, and every story she retold of Natasha’s behavior throughout the day led you to believe that while she maintained a no bullshit attitude, there were soft, fleeting moments of tender care hidden beneath her stoic actions and expressions. She always pushed for Wanda to take a full hour lunch break, even though she preferred to eat as quickly as possible before returning to the lab, and on her birthday, which she hadn’t told anyone about, there had been a present sitting on her desk that was admittedly not very personal, but still touching because it meant that Natasha had remembered reading it on her transfer application. The touches of halloween decor was minimal, and honestly, somewhat laughable, but there was a softer message beneath the taped up scarecrow and the wonkily hung jack-o-lanterns. Even if the holidays were of no relevance to Natasha, who you knew worked every holiday that she could because Wanda was always prattling on about her data being changed during the few days off they received for things like Christmas and Easter, she knew that it mattered to her staff, and she tried her best to put some effort into boosting moral around the office. 

When you entered Wanda’s office, the meticulously clean room being just beside the stairwell door, you noticed her lack of presence, which was odd. Wanda was always around when she knew you were coming, not wanting any of her other co-workers to get the chance to report back to Natasha claiming you were snooping through classified files. It had never happened, but the people at her old placement had started that rumor anyways, and Yelena, her boss that had become something of a close friend to you even if you rarely spoke with her grueling work schedule and your lack of genuinely trying, had merely rolled her eyes, but had still been required to scold Wanda for her negligence. Natasha’s hand would be forced the same way if anyone began those rumors again, so Wanda, bless her, had tried to nip them in the butt before they could even truly begin, which brought you right back to your confusion as you looked around the office. The salad she’d made before leaving was sat on her desk, picked through and beginning to wilt, signaling that she’d either forgotten to put the ice pack in her lunch box again despite the pink sticky note you left on the freezer door, or she’d taken lunch early by Natasha’s forcing. You hoped you weren’t interrupting anything important, not aware of your plans being subject to change, but before you could dwell on what she could possibly be doing somewhere misplaced in the large office building, you felt hands wrapping around your body and pulling you backward. 

A soft gasp fell off of your lips when the door was kicked closed, and then you realized what was happening. A breathy whine fell off your lips when fingers pinched at your nipples through the thick material of your shirt, the unbuttoned flannel thrown over your shoulders allowing your attacker to feel the way they pebbled without a bra to conceal them. The flash of white as one hand reached up to hold onto your neck had you melting against her chest, somewhat out of breath from the shock that had rattled you initially. 

“Wanda.” You sighed softly, head lulling to the side when teeth nipped at your neck before passionate kisses were pressed into your skin and trialed downward toward the collar of your shirt. “Wanda, you’re at work.” You tried again, face growing flush as you stared ahead at the open blinds. If anyone was standing across the street, if they craned their head just the slightest bit upward, they’d undoubtedly be able to make out the silhouette of your body being groped. A whine fell off of your lips when a curious hand pinched at your nipples once more, relishing in the way they hardened beneath harsh pressure. 

“Shh, baby. Just let me touch you, I’ll be quick.” She’d have stopped if you really wanted her to. All that you had to do was say a single word, and her hands would be off of you faster than they’d grabbed you to begin with, but the rush of excitement that had your clit pulsating against the seam of your leggings deterred you from making that choice. Wanda clearly knew that her office was safe enough to touch you in this way, and not so secretly, you yearned for the thrill of somebody knocking on the door, forcing the both of you to spring apart and attempt to collect yourself in time for them to not grow concerned beyond the threshold. Another added bonus was the dominance in which she touched you with, leaving nothing up for your consideration, merely taking what she wanted and giving what she wanted you to have. There was something so tantalizing about being at her disposal whenever and however she pleased, and you’d both gone to great lengths to ensure that this element of your sexual relationship was both consensual and comfortable for the both of you, not just her. She wasn’t doing anything that you hadn’t previously agreed to, in fact, you wish she’d do more. You wished her hands would stop toying with the collar of your shirt and wrap around your neck the way that you adored, that her hands would stop fiddling with your nipples overtop of your shirt and seek the price you hid beneath the thick cotton. You wished she’d travel lower, exploit that sensitive nerve between your legs that she knew how to manipulate until you were merely putty in her hands begging for release that she had every right to deny you. You wished she’d stop handling you so softly. 

“If we’re going to do this, you need to at least make it worth my while, Maximoff.” You rushed out, eyes closed as pleasure seized your thoughts, pinning you in place as she twisted your nipple sadistically, enjoying the way every muscle in your body tightened before it melted away into bliss that you couldn’t fight. She chuckled darkly against your neck, her hot breath fanning across the shell of your ear. 

“Trying to tell me what to do, pretty girl?” She quizzed, pulling you back against her chest with a firm grip around your midsection, her fingers that weren’t taunting your sensitive nipples fiddling with the waistband of your leggings that begged to be slipped down lower until your cunt was exposed to the heat circulating through the spacious office. “When has that ever worked out well for you?” 

“Never.” You gritted through clenched teeth, taking in a large breath when the first instance of getting what you wanted from her presented itself, but you were foolish to think she’d cave to your bratting so easily, and just as easily as her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your leggings to pull at the hem of your delicate panties, they were gone and trailed back up your body until they found a comfortable home against your neck. Her fingers squeezed tightly, and the sudden change in air going to your lungs had your eyes fluttering closed as you slumped against her chest, writhing in pleasurable pain as she again pulled at your taut nipples and chuckled whimsically. 

“I applaud your efforts, detka, but you’re not here to make demands.” You gasped when teeth sank into your neck, right above where her thumb rested along the column of your skin, practically burning you with its possessive grip. A deep sense of pleasure rolled through your body when her knee pushed between your legs, her toned thigh sitting around against your clit, further driving the seam of your pants into your intimacy, giving you just an ounce of friction, which you took eagerly, rocking against her clothed thigh as you felt the impression of her pens in the breast pocket of her lab coat digging into you shoulder blade. “So easy, malyshka. Would you let anyone touch you like this? Have you wherever they wanted?” She knows that answer is a firm no, but still she likes to taunt your desperation for her touch, and it only adds to the humiliation that's beginning to pile up on you as you become desperate enough to rock against the thigh between your legs, desperate sounds falling off your lips as you attempt to silence your need. “So noisy, we’re gonna have to do something about that.” 

You’re shoved away from her body like merely touching your skin is enough to burn her, and you can’t help but meekly whimper at the loss of contant. It lasts for merely a handful of seconds, her hungry eyes undressing you as you found your footing and steadied yourself. “Pants around your ankles. I don’t have time for you to look at me like a deer in headlights.” She grumbles, already beginning to move around the office and ensure that the blinds are properly drawn as you push down your leggings and fold yourself over the desk in the way that you know she wants. Your ass sticks out just enough for your glistening cunt to be visible, and a sadistic chuckle warms your skin as she sets her eyes on you already dripping for her. “You like when I take advantage of you, baby? When I tell you to come meet me for lunch just so I can play with your cunt?” It all makes sense now, and you can’t help but cry out in surprise when her palm comes down on the globe of your ass and leaves a stinging sensation in its wake. Another hit follows, this time harder and directed at your lower thighs, but there’s not time for you to respond before she’s pushing two fingers into your folds and setting a brutal pace as she works to have you coming undone. 

She’d nearly been late to work that morning, too focused on obsessing over you to a degree that should’ve made her plans for the afternoon obvious. She’d asked you a few hundred questions, about how you were doing mentally, how you felt being in Westview now that it wasn’t so new, if you were still getting caught between feelings of sadness and longing in moments that you couldn’t have predicted such a strong overcoming of emotion. You hadn’t thought anything about it until now, but as you gathered the full picture, you can see that she was checking in, ensuring that none of this would affect you in any way other than positively. If her hand wasn’t holding your back firmly against her desk, you would’ve spun around to kiss her, but all that you could do now was whine as her fingers hammered into you, curling upward if only to graze that sensitive spot within your walls minimally. She was toying with you, teasing you, seeing how long she could prolong your pleasure until you begged for her to give you more. 

It came quickly, because the overwhelming assault of your love for her only multiplied the pleasure that her fingers were provoking within your core, and the small movements of your hips pushing back against her fingers only gained you so much. “Please! Please! I need more!” You begged, tears blurring in your vision as your moans and whines became too loud, and were quickly silenced by her fingers forcing themselves into your mouth. She pressed down on your tongue cynically, chuckling to herself as you gagged and moaned around her now sodden digits. 

She didn’t try to deny you though, working faster, pressing against that sweet spot within you with purpose now, dragging out every ounce of pleasure you allowed her to take, her thumb falling onto your clit as she guided you towards an orgasm that had to be silent, the sounds of footsteps just beyond the office door reminding you of where you are. 

“Cum for me, detka. It’s okay, you can let go.” She cooed as she felt your walls begin to squeeze her fingers, fluttering and pulsating with each ounce of pleasure she drew out of you. That was all it took for you to fall apart, her fingers in your mouth silencing the whines and moans that attempted to fall into the air, but became muffled and soft sounding as her digits prevented them from fully forming on your tongue. Your thighs trembled as she withdrew her fingers, your brain a jumbled mess of pleasure and submission as you reached for your pants and worked them up your legs. 

You smiled softly as she turned you around in her arms, laying a kiss to your lips that was soft and tender like she always was. “Did you eat?” She checked in, no longer radiating dominance that had your mind whirling with pleasurable incoherence, and just barely did you manage to nod your head before the door swung upon and one of her colleges that you’d heard about stood in the doorway with a beam of pride on her lips, entirely unaware of what she’d almost barged in on. 

“We made a development! Like, a big development!” Kate rambled with excitement, taking off down the hallway and back toward the lab before Wanda even had a chance to reply. 

You batted at the woman's chest, your hand landing right against her breast pocket where three black pens were meticulously pinned, your cheeks flush in mortification. “You didn’t lock the door?!” 

“Whoops?” She grinned bashfully, stealing one last kiss before she was racing out of the office and in the direction that Kate had fled to. “I’ll see you at home, baby! Love you!”

[mywritersmind]

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - LN4

↳ pt.1

summary : Its the vacation of your dreams! With your best friends, rich men, live music, and flowing drinks, nothing can ruin it. Even if a certain Formula 1 driver (who seems to have an affinity for annoying you) is there every step of the sandy way.

listen up : suggestive themes! swearing! ‘enemies’ to lovers. probably my last sunny vacation fic for a while! get ready for winter fics!! cmt to be tagged in pt. 2 <3

word count : 4570

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Y/n!” Kika throws a pillow onto me. I groan in response, pulling the blanket over my head, “Get up! Get up! We’re leaving in thirty!”

I fall off the bed and start my rushed process of getting ready, we’re in Marmaris, Turkey for a little holiday. A holiday that I've been promised is for friends, yet every friend I have is with a man.

Kika, Alex, Rebecca, and Lily promised they would act like single ladies with me! That’s clearly not true because of the love they have for their boyfriends and how those same men never leave their sides.

The only other addition is someone I don’t want to talk about. Someone who’s a pain in my ass and the construction to my headache.

I’m instantly in a better mood when my friends and I start taking photos and making tik toks. I’m in a light blue dress and sandals, my skin is practically yearning to be tan but that will start tomorrow.

I have my own hotel room which I intend to spend no time in unless I'm hooking up with a hot turkish man. Lily holds my hand as we start walking. The guys said they would meet us there and I’ll never not treasure time with my girls.

The sun has already set but the sky is still a dark blue and orange. Lily squeals next to me, she’s in the cutest white mini dress, “I can’t believe we’re here!”

Kika laughs in a long yellow dress, “The trip literally made it out of the group chat!”

I eye them, “More like it was infiltrated by another groups chat!” Alex laughs and puts her hand on my arm.

“I promise it’ll be fun. I know you’re a little sad but we’ll find you someone!”

“It’s not even that- I just want to be with you guys.” They all seem a bit sad about it. It’s not like I don’t like their boyfriends, I consider them my friends too! It’s just that I was really looking forward to some much needed girl time.

“You are with us!” Alexandra frowns.

Lily swings are hands, “You’re with us and five other idiots who have money!”

This makes me laugh as we make it to the restaurant. It’s beautiful, part of the hotel, and looking right over the water.

The guys are already sitting. Charles, Pierre, Alex, Carlos all smile at me, kissing their girls as we sit. There is one missing, though. It’s hard to ignore but I'm definitely not complaining.

Drinks are ordered and our thoughts about the hotel is passed around. I became friends with this group through Lily, we grew up together and when Alex suggested I should come to a grand prix, I was hooked.

The other girls took to me immediately and were so excited to have another friend that they actually like. I don’t travel as much as them, but I do see them often enough.

We haven’t gotten together in a group like this though in forever!

I sip on my cocktail and talk to Carlos as his eyes stray past me. I turn to look at what he’s distracted by and have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

You know those people who just really piss you off? The type that just irks you even though you’ve tried to hear your friends out?

That is how I feel about Lando Norris.

He strolls up to our table as if he isn’t late. He’s in blue jeans and a white button down that’s definitely not buttoned enough. His hair is messy and looks like he just woke up, “Hey.” Is all he says before plopping down next to Carlos and sipping his water.

Rebecca already sends me a look that screams, ‘Leave it.’ So I do, I order my food and talk to my friends while avoiding the man two seats down from me.

It’s not just that Lando bugs me, It’s that he’s repeatedly cocky and flat out annoying. He teases me any chance he gets and it never fails to ruin my day. He knows it too.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Pierre asks as he puts his arm around Kikas chair, everyone’s food is nearly gone and I'm more than ready to climb into my plushy hotel bed.

Alex holds Lily’s hand, “Beach, explore, eat? That’s also my plan for every day of our trip.”

Charles nods, “My buddy has a boat out here that he said we can borrow one day.”

I smile and lean my head on Kika’s shoulder, “I'll be anywhere you guys go, with a book and an apple.”

“You still into that?” His voice already pisses me off. I look at Lando who’s staring at me, “Reading.”

I blink. “Are you still into being illiterate?”

Charles covers his laugh with a cough as Alexandra shakes her head, “Hey! You two need to keep it civil this trip.”

Carlos eyes Lando pointedly as he groans, “Why? I didn’t even do anything! The witch said I was illiterate!”

I sit up straighter immediately, leaning over Carlos as my friends talk in a haze around me, “You really wanna see a witch, Norris, I’ll fucking show you!”

“The worst thing you could do to me is throw sand in my face!” I groan as he rolls his eyes and Kika pulls me back into my seat.

“This is what we’re talking about!” When she whispers is when I realize the people dining around us are staring.

“It’s one week!” Pierre shakes his head, “One week of peace!”

I don’t dare look at Lando, my arms crossed.

He gives in peace, “I won’t start anything if she won’t.”

“Perfect, I'll have a great trip of silence.” Fine by me. I can ignore him for a week, easy.

Lily and Rebecca exchange looks as Lando speaks again, “It’ll be nice not hearing your-” Carlos slaps his arm and he shuts up.

I sigh in my seat, this is going to be an interesting week.

⋆༺

I start off my first full day with breakfast. I’m up early and decided to make the most of it by enjoying my food with a beach view.

I grin when I see that there’s two pieces of bacon left, grabbing them swiftly and plopping it onto my plate just when someone goes to reach for it.

I look up to see Lando. He’s sweaty and in running clothes, looking at me annoyed per usual, “Seriously? Who takes the last two pieces?”

I raise a brow, “Me. You literally just saw me do it.”

He gives me a bored expression, “Didn’t you ever get taught manners?”

“I got taught how to get what I want.” I bite into the piece of bacon just to watch him flinch. “Weren’t you taught that it’s not nice to be insufferable?”

“Can’t you share? It’s one piece.” I take another bite, pretending to think.

“Hm… No!”

“We’re supposed to be civil. Friends even!” He steps closer, “I know you would give the piece to Lily.”

“You’re too greedy.” I finish the first piece of bacon and start to walk away. He scoffs and follows me.

“Me!? Greedy?” He scoffs, plate still in hand. I eye it, it’s mostly empty except for a nutella crepe, “You know what- never mind.”

I nod, “Great job being civil, Norris. I’m so proud of you and you for giving up.”

He does not find this funny, “I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit.” His eyes narrow at my words.

“Fuck it, Free will!” and with that, he grabs the piece of bacon off my plate and runs!

“Norris!” I yell after him but when he turns, he’s smiling with a mouth full of bacon. “Dickhead.” I mumble to myself and continue getting my food.

⋆༺

I’m warm, I'm tipsy, and I'm listening to live music. I don’t think life could get any better. I sit up on my beachside chair, lifting my sunglasses to see Lily, Alex, Charles, and Alexandra playing chicken in the water.

Kika stirs next to me, she was asleep on her stomach but slowly sits up when she hears our friends laughing.

I watch Lando and Pierre floating and Carlos swimming towards them. Rebecca went to get drinks so that just leaves Kika and I.

“How’s the whole ‘civil’ thing going?” She’s in an orange bikini that makes her look unfairly tan.

I shrug, “Bad? I just can’t imagine talking to him normally. We always fight.” I sip my drink, the glass coats my hand in condensation but it cools me down.

“Maybe you should just fuck.” I choke on my drink. She doesn’t even attempt to hide her laugh, “Sorry, Sorry!”

“Kika!” I slow my breathing, “Why would you say that!?”

“It makes sense! You’ve got a lot of pent up energy… I’m just saying!” I shake my head, pulling my sunglasses back on and laying down again. “I know you’re attracted to him.”

I pray that she thinks my cheeks are red from the sun, and not from her words. “I am not.”

“You can't lie to me!” She laughs, “It’s not a bad thing, Y/n. You both just need to shut up for two seconds and get eachother shirtless.” Lily walks up right as she says that.

She plops down onto the sand, “Whatever this is about- I agree!”

“She’s trying to get me to- Nope! I’m not even going to say it!” I can’t have that manifestation in my life.

“I think she should hook up with Lando.”

“Completely agree. Just make it quick.”

“If he’s with her, he’s gonna be quick.” Kika jokes and I actually laugh at that one.

“Okay enough! I’m not taking any advice from you two!” I stand, pulling my hair tie out of my hair and starting down the beach.

“Think about it!” Lily yells as I flip her off.

Now all I can think about is hooking up with him. I mean, I hate the dude, but I’m not blind.

Lando is fucking fit. But it’s hard for me to see past his assholeness. So the probability that i’m going to fuck him, is slim. Very slim. Like ZERO.

Just as I'm off in my Lando Norris shirtless world, a shirtless Lando Norris walks up to me. He’s exiting the ocean, pushing his wet curls back as he laughs with Carlos.

I look away as soon as I get a glimpse of his torso. The cool water feels great on my legs as I walk in the ocean. I sink down and dunk my head, opening my eyes underwater, I see the tiny fish and shells.

I reach down and grab a handful of sand, when I get air again, Carlos and Lando are next to me. I push the sand off my hand to reveal some shells and a tiny crab, “Aw!” I smile at it, showing it to the boys.

Carlos raises his brows, “Looks harmful.”

“Harmful?” I glance at him, “He’s a baby!” I hold it closer to him and he backs away like it’s going to jump on him.

I turn to Lando and do the same, he backs away as well, “Pussy.” I say it to his face and he clearly takes it as a challenge.

He holds his hand out and snatches the crab right from my hand, “Are you just a thief by nature?”

He gives me a look before bringing his hand closer to his face to examine the sea creature. I step closer to see it, “It’s adorable.”

“It’s a crab.”

“Thank you, Norris, for your insightful words of wisdom.” I go to take it back from him but he jumps and throws his hand down.

I let out a huge laugh when I realized it’s holding onto his thumb, “Shit! Ow!”

I keep laughing as Lando panics, swinging his hand around to try to get it off. Carlos is long gone by now, not amused by his friends' antics.

The crab finally unclips itself from Lando and he looks like he was just betrayed. I grin, “Maybe I am a witch!”

He looks me up and down, holding his hand and thinking. “If you call me a bitch that crab won’t be the worst thing that hurts you today.”

And then something weird happens.

He smiles.

He just smiles and walks away.

⋆༺

LANDO

Marmaris is stunning. The water is clear and besides me getting bitten, I'm having a great time. We end up going into town to get lunch and I'm faced with the issue of Y/n’s ass in my face as we walk up what feels like a million stairs.

I really feel like she’s doing this on purpose but I could be thinking that to just make myself feel better about checking her out.

She’s in tiny low waisted jean shorts. I can see her bikini bottoms peeking out from the sides. Her top is a crocheted cover up so her sliver of a bathing suit is still on display.

Carlos pushes my back when I slow down on the steps, I turn around to swear at him but he’s giving me an all knowing look so I close my mouth.

After what feels like hours of staring at Y/n’s backside, we make it to the lunch place. It’s hidden quite far up and we all get cramped into the room with a huge window and a view of lemon trees.

With our stupidly coupled up group, I'm forced to sit with Y/n. She’s across from me, sipping on her water and leaning on the table with her arms crossed.

When she notices I'm staring at her, she glares at me. I can tell she’s about to say something snappy, but eyes our friends and shuts her mouth.

As much as she pissed me off, I find it fun to annoy her. I like the way her cheeks heat and how her lips press together, but I would never admit that to her.

“Did you go for a run this morning?” Carlos asks me while shoveling food into his mouth.

“Yeah and the gym- it’s nice.”

“And quiet?” I nod, knowing what he means. Five Formula 1 drivers on vacation together is pretty hard to miss. But besides a stare or two, no one has said anything to us.

Lily claps her hands together, “Who wants to go golfing with me on wed-”

Y/n groans, putting her head in her hands, “No!” Kika looks horrified at the suggestion as well.

“Yes!” Carlos and I say at the same time. Lily has been a great addition to our golfing group and by far the best out of the three of us.

Rebecca laughs, “I’m with Y/n on this one. I’m feeling… spa?” This immediately perks Y/n up.

“That sounds perfect!” Alex smiles, “Girls day! Minus Lily because she’s actually good at a sport.”

Charles eyes us all, “I wanna go to the spa. I hate golfing.”

⋆༺

YOU

When Rebecca suggested we take a cooking class, I thought it was a great idea! I’m not the best cook so why not learn something? I had a bad feeling as soon as we entered and the room was decorated with hearts.

“Welcome! Welcome!” A man ushers us in along with two other groups. The room is large with one wall completely open and facing the beach. “Everybody get a table and we shall begin!”

“I knew I missed something on the website…” Alex cringes as we stare at the tables set for two, “Sorry? Lando, careful with Y/n and knives!”

A couples cooking class!? You’ve got to be kidding. I look at Lando the same time he turns to me, “Well, love… Let me handle the sharp things. I value my life.”

This is going to be the longest hour ever.

“My lovely people in love!” The man is short, with gray hair and the biggest smile I've seen in a while, “My name is Ali and today we begin making the dough for Kemal Pasha!” Apparently the kind we’re making is sweet balls of dough with a very delicious sounding syrup.

I’m standing next to Lando who’s struggling with his apron. They have huge heart pockets and his is bright green. As fun as it is to see him struggle, I want to start cooking soon.

“Give me that.” I swat his hands away and step behind him, taking the pieces of fabric and tying a knot.

“Thank you, Sweetness.” I suspect that this teasing won’t end soon, considering the man teaching the class asked everyone what their names were and put a name tag on each table of the couples ‘ship’ name.

I tie it tight and he flinches, “Hey my girl is trying to kill me!” I roll my eyes and loosen the bow, listening to the man and thanking the woman who’s walking around to make sure everything is correct.

I pour in all the ingredients and Lando starts stirring. I look around at all the couples, they’re doing everything together while looking all lovey dovey.

It makes me miss my ex. Which is weird because we barely acted like this alone. But still, seeing Alex and Lily laugh with flour already on their faces makes me sad.

“Angel!” Lando calls for me again as I put my hand on my hip. He has his hand out that’s covered in white powder, “C’mere!”

“No!” I back up but he’s already pulling me in and squeezing my face. I frown, my face squished between his hand as he laughs. I can feel the flour covering my face. I put on a slow smile when he drops his hand, “Aw, love bug!”

Nothing about my tone is loving and I can tell he’s not excited by the way his face drops. “Now darling…” He backs away as I pour some of the flour from the container into my hand, “I told you i’ll let you lick food off of me later, not here!”

I scoff at his audacity and throw the flour right into his face. When he opens his eyes, I slap my hands over my mouth. His whole face is white and when he breathes out, some comes out of his mouth.

I hold back a laugh as he stares at me, along with the rest of the room, “Oh baby… you’ve got a little.” I motion to his whole face, “Just a little something right there.”

“Er…” The man blinks at us, “True love comes in many forms!” He laughs uncomfortably as we get back to mixing our dough.

“That was not a fair move, Love.” Lando whispers to me as I knead the dough between my hands. His face is wiped off but the flour still resides a bit in his hair and cheeks.

“All's fair in love and war.” I say sweetly.

“Alright ladies, If your man isn’t helping you with his big strong muscles…” Ali eyes us, “Remind them who you are! Men, help your women!”

I turn back at Lando, looking up at the driver, “Do you need reminding?”

He just bites his lip and turns me back around, his hands on my waist. That, I did not expect. My hands go back to the dough in the bowl and his arms move into view, copying the other couples and massaging the treat with me.

I swallow and eye the veins in his arms that go all the way to his hands. His very big hands. The same hands that softly reach over mine.

His touch is surprisingly gentle as he matches my movements. I try to not think about how close he is to me, and focus on the dough but fuck that because I can feel him behind me.

I move back a bit unconsciously and his hand goes to waist to stop me, “Do you need reminding?” His voice is deep in my ear and I fight the urge to roll my eyes even though I know my cheeks are hot.

I thank god when Ali says we will be moving onto rolling the dough into little balls.

I swiftly move away from Lando and don’t dare look at Alex or Kika who I know is looking at us. I start rolling the dough in between my hands.

Lando glances at me, his balls sort of uneven and too small, “Your balls are ugly.” Lando chokes on air and whips his head around to look at me.

“Excuse me?” I roll my eyes at his suggestive tone and show him one of mine, “Ah so you’re a ball expert? Working from experience?”

He’s so childish it makes me want to throw one of these at him. Sadly, I'm not above acting suggestively, “Never worked with any so small.” I shrug as he stares at me. That shuts him up really quick as we place them on a round baking sheet.

We take a short break while they bake and I venture outside, looking over the balcony to the sea far below us.

My skin feels rejuvenated by the sun, I’m tanner and I swear the air is just different here. Alex appears next to me, he looks quite happy, “Having fun?”

I shrug and realize that I actually have been. “Uh… yeah.”

“You know, I think everyone else thinks you’re a real couple. It’s cute.” I gape at him. Is Alexander Albon betraying me right now?

“It is not cute. He’s bullying me.” He just snorts.

“Sure…”

I frown when Ali calls us back in. Lando and I are mostly quiet while stirring our syrup. As it boils, he nudges me. I look up to see him watching another couple.

They’re practically making out and feeling eachother up. I let out a laugh that his eyes widened at, “You’re so not inconspicuous.” He whispers, leaning down a bit.

“They are definitely not paying any attention to me…” They’re so wrapped up in each other that they don’t even notice when Ali turns their mini stove top off so their sauce doesn’t burn.

He looks down at me one last time, sending me a tiny smile. I think it’s the first time I'm genuinely attracted to him when his shirt is still on. Shit.

⋆༺

LANDO

Besides Y/n trying to kill me with the dessert we made, we were civil throughout the rest of the class. We get to take home a small box which leaves everyone in a good mood.

“Here, pretty, I don’t think I can eat that without feeling sick.” I don’t mean to call her that, but I just say what comes to my mind. I hand her the box and takes it without any change of expression.

I’m ready to leave but Ali claps his hands together one more time, “My lovebirds!” Y/n gives me a look that I laugh at, “One more gift for a very special couple of… well, couples!”

He pulls out three pieces of paper. Handing one to the couple that was making out he says, “Most affectionate!”

Then he turns to Pierre and Kila and hands them one, “Best dessert!” I realize these papers are some typos of superlatives.

I think he’s going to go to Charles and Alexandra, but he turns to Y/n and I. A big grin on his face, he hands me a paper. I read it before he says it and my eyes widen, “The most authentic love!” I don’t look at her, I can’t.

“I hope one day you all come back!” And with that, we’re ushered back and stripped of our aprons.

Y/n is already walking down the marble steps with Lily and Rebecca next to her. Carlos just shakes his head and slaps his hand on my shoulder, “Man… Congratulations!”

I eye him as Alex laughs, “I’m framing that!”

⋆༺

YOU

Six hours later, i’m in a tiny white dress, my hair curled and makeup done, and on my way with Rebecca and Alex to a club.

Everyone’s already left but Alex took extra long to slick back her hair. “So!” Rebecca grins as we walk past the beach, “Plan for tonight? Hook up with a local? Make out on the beach?”

I laugh at her enthusiasm, “I’ll see where the night and vodka takes me! I really just need a hot dance partner and a good drink.”

And that’s exactly what I get. I get my drink and well.. many hot dance partners! My friends and I scream the lyrics of the songs we know, holding hands and jumping around.

The club is part of the resort we’re staying at. It’s half on the beach and half in the beach bar that has a 24 hour drink service. I laugh at the guys who are awkwardly waiting for their girls to join them again.

“Okay, go, go!” They leave me at the bar and as soon as they’re gone, a man approaches me.

He’s very tall and very blonde, “Hi.” he’s got an accent but I can’t tell from where, “I couldn’t help but notice you dancing…” I listen to the same line that a hundred guys have fed me before. “Could I buy you a drink?”

Now this is what I like! Ten minutes later I'm dancing with him and a vodka lemonade. His hands are on my waist as I laugh.

He’s hot against me, his hair sweaty and salty. His name is Leon and he really likes my dress. I have a feeling he would like me without it too.

“Are you staying at the hotel?” He asks, screaming in my ear.

I nod, “Are you?”

“I’m staying in town with a friend!” I nod and sip my drink as he talks, “Do you know him?” I frown at his words, turning to see who he’s talking about.

I roll my eyes at Lando who’s standing with a pretty girl but staring at me. I turn back to Leon, “No!”

He looks like this annoys him, “Well i’m not surprised! You’re hot!” I nod as the music continues and keep dancing with him.

He turns me around so he’s staring at my ass instead of my face. But I just slip my fingers into my hair and keep dancing. I open my eyes to see Lando again. The girl is still talking but he’s still staring at me.

I run my middle finger around the rim of my glass, the sugar lifting onto my skin. His expression stays dark and focused on me as his hand goes to his jeans pocket. I lift my finger to lips, licking off the sugar without breaking eye contact.

He brings his drink to his lips and that’s when I realize I've had a bit too much to drink because he looks too damn hot.

He’s in a light blue shirt, his silver rings and LN4 necklace sat on his skin like it belongs there. His hair is damp with I don’t know with what… sweat, water, or the air, I don’t care. His jaw ticks at Leon’s hand moves from my waist to my stomach, my head dropping back on his shoulder, and spinning back around.

He kisses me, it’s messy and drunken but I don’t care. It’s only when he whispers, “Let’s get out of here.” When I'm massively turned off.

I end up back with my friends, Lando nowhere in sight and a smile on my face as we sit at the bar and drink.

pt.2

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Rest - A Joel Miller Drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader Rating: We all need fluff right now and that's what this is. Word Count: 1133 a/n: I hope everyone is surviving out there. In an attempt to halt my near-constant crying I wrote this. Note that there are two little references in here that will hopefully help everything feel a little bit better are also little spoilers for Part II, so if you want to avoid any and all spoilers, let that be known. It's pretty darn tiny though.

"Joel?"

Your voice is soft, but it still feels obtrusive as you sneak your way past the door to his office. It's actually pretty spacious, the space his brother has set up for him amidst the growing town of Jackson, but in the quiet of the night, even though you know you're not bothering him in the slightest, it still feels almost like you're intruding.

He's at the desk, though, right where you expected him to be. His glasses are perched low on the bridge of his nose and you can see the tension in his neck and shoulders, a sure sign that he's been focused on the plans in front of him for far too long.

"Hey," he breathes out, looking over at you with what seems to be relief. You knew from Maria that he's been bombarded all day with everything from questions to problems to Tommy's constant insistence that they have to work faster. You and Joel could both easily admit that there was an obvious need for additional homes, but you were also aware that construction takes time. One would think Tommy would understand that, especially considering his own background and the fact that none of this is what it was before, but you'd also known from the look in Maria's eyes and the lateness of the hour that Joel was the one putting it on himself to try and make it happen.

The door closes softly behind you as you move to his side, setting down a thermos on the desk next to the multitude of renovation plans. "Brought you some coffee. I thought it might help."

"Come to check on me is more like it," he jokes, but he's already taken off his glasses and is reaching to draw you into his lap. You don't argue, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you settle onto his thighs, a light kiss pressed to his forehead as he buries his face against your neck.

"Maria told me Tommy was on your case today," you explain simply, fingers running carefully through his curls.

Joel nods. "Maria and I met this morning about the houses on Clark Street, but then her idiot husband had to come in here and give me a debrief of everything we'd already covered because he missed the meeting. Wasted nearly a fucking hour of my day."

It makes you laugh, the way the rivalry between the Miller brothers seems to transcend all reason, even if at the heart of it you knew they love each other more than either would be willing to admit. "Is that why you're still here working when he's at home?"

There's no response from him, just quiet, and you know you've hit the nail on the head. This isn't the first time, and you knew it wouldn't be the last, that Joel took the needs of the town on his own shoulders. You needed houses and somehow he always made it happen, even if it meant stretching himself too thin.

"You know what? Come on," you continue suddenly, pressing another kiss to his hairline before standing. "Let's go home."

The protests begin immediately. "I really need to..."

"Joel," you return sternly, already grabbing his coat off the hook. "Home. Now."

There's a long sigh and then he stands, turning off the desk lamp and crossing to take his jacket from you. He shrugs it on and then his hand finds yours, fingers woven together as you lead him from the office and out into the cool night air.

Spring hasn't quite set in yet, but the harsh realities of winter are finally behind you. It's one of the reasons the council has been pushing for new houses, almost too aware of the fact that construction is easier with the warming weather and with new people showing up every day it's become a necessity to move as quickly as possible.

Not that Joel needs to be thinking about that right now.

"I made some chicken for dinner," you tell him, swinging your arms about just slightly in the way that makes you both feel like you're simply two lovers on an evening stroll. You do your best to find these kinds of moments, the ones that remind you of the good, because if you didn't you'd simply spend your whole existence dwelling on the opposite. On the constant weight of ensuring the survival of a community twenty-seven years after the end of the world. "I could heat it up for you when we get back."

"Sounds nice," he returns, his pace slowed to match yours as you make your way home. There are still a few people out and about, but not many, and it almost makes your town feel small again, in the way it had when you'd both first arrived. You're quiet, even as you pass to the edge of town and eventually find your way along the dirt path that will guide you home. The house you share sits in the distance, unassuming amidst fields that will soon blossom into a lush green landscape.

He doesn't let go of your hand until you're both through the door, only relinquishing his grasp after you kiss him quickly and head to the kitchen to find him some dinner. You hear him sit on the bench by the door, removing his boots with a huff, and then the unmistakable creek of the floorboards as he transitions to the living room.

You talk to him absentmindedly all the while, about your day, about watching JJ for Dina and Ellie, about what you're hoping to plant in the garden this summer, but it's only when the chicken is plated that you realize he hasn't said a word.

"Joel?" you question, making your way back to the living room. "Baby?" you ask again, crossing the threshold to find him sprawled out on the couch, sound asleep.

It's peaceful, really, the way he seems to soften in slumber, and it makes you relax, too. Your feet carry you to his side, abandoning the food on the counter as you grab the blanket from the back of the couch. You shift him slightly, just enough for you to wedge onto the sofa next to him and drape the afghan over both of your bodies. He wakes, ever so slightly, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you back against him, nose tucked into the back of your neck as he drifts off once more.

And the next day, when you wake to find him already gone, the blanket wrapped tightly around your body and a note on the coffee table that reminds you he loves you, all you can hope for is that the coffee in the thermos still on his desk isn't too cold.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Very, very fresh bison calf.

Months and months ago I promised y'all photos of the bison birth I was lucky enough to observe at the Cleveland Zoo last spring. As requested, they'll be under a cut, because unlike this lovely photo from the zoo announcement post, my photos are... goopy.

His name is Tighee, a name which the zoo said is "the name of a Shoshone chief."

We walked up just as things started to get going, and the story is below the cut...

This is Blue, a female bison who arrived at the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo in fall of 2022 already pregnant. When we got to the habitat, there were a ton of people gathered around, and it wasn't quite clear what was going on.

Then we noticed her full udder and the extra pair of feet.

She was dead-center in the (pretty large) habitat, which was nice - though there was a crowd, she had some good distance from everyone for most of it. The calf came pretty quickly, all things considered (something especially helpful when you're holding a heavy camera up on full manual zoom without a tripod). Because she was at a distance, my friend and I spent a bunch of time showing people near us photos on my camera screen so they could get a good view.

I was honestly really surprised at the number of people who asked why the zoo staff weren't in there with her, helping her give birth. So we explained to folk that zoo staff don't normally go in with bison on a normal day because they're so big and dangerous, and that during a birth (a time of potential stress for the whole herd, the rest of whom were off to the side of that habitat) it would be especially risky to do so. But you could see people in the zoo's uniform colors clustered around the fence, keeping a close eye on her.

And then there was a calf! For folk who haven't seen what a whole amniotic sac looks like, I'm including the next couple photos.

This one is still mid-birth, as you can see. The hooves come out first, with the calf's head laying parallel to them.

Blue immediately moves to break the amniotic sac and clear the calf's airways of mucus. Om nom nom.

We have open eyes and an awake baby! The amniotic sac is full of fluid that helps protect the baby while it's in the uterus, which means once it's broken, the baby is goopy. One of mom's first jobs is to lick all of it away to dry the calf off.

A first attempt at using legs!

Nope, being born was too hard and legs don't work yet. Time to rest and recover from the effort of thinking about standing up.

The first inquisitive member of the herd, another young female, comes to check out the newest addition.

More attempts at legs! Getting better but still not coordinated enough yet.

They're starting to help the baby stand up. In a non-captive setting it would be important for him to be able to walk pretty quickly after being born, and he has to stand up to be able to nurse!

Everyone comes to check him out, now.

We have legs! They work! He hadn't quite figured out where to nurse from yet, though.

And that's your bison birth for the day!

[bring-forth-his-sac]

THE MAN FOR THE JOB - PART 1

Summary: when your father makes a bad choice, you become Negan’s latest wife

Pairing: Savior’s Era Negan x virgin!Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Tags: daddy issues, virgin reader, sexual innuendos, swearing, betrayal, alcohol

A/N: yea this is basically my take on that old fanfic meme of "you" getting sold to [insert random boy band/ celebrity here] except it's with Negan. It was going to be one long fic but I decided to break it up! Part 2 should be up next week and it will be filled to the brim with smut lmao

Sniffling. Panting. Choked sobs. And footsteps, slowly pacing up and down in front of you.

You focus on the sounds, your head hanging low and eyes glued to the floor. The last thing you saw was the man’s bat cracking down and then you looked away. 

Negan. A name you won’t be forgetting anytime soon. A man who had a grand announcement of who he was before ever making an appearance, as if he was headlining a festival.

You don’t know why these people chose your small group to torment or why they think your group would be able to find supplies for them. Not that any of that matters now.

To your side, you hear your father’s haggard breath. You could tell he kept his eyes up and watched what happened with the bat, the small grunts and sharp inhales of air being enough of an indicator.

“Phew! Now that’s what I call a workout,” the man continues to pace up and down, the shadow of his bat swinging by his side coming into your peripheral “I mean, goddamn! He was not going down easy, huh? Like cracking a goddamn walnut!”

Despite your group having no real leader, your father happened to be a talker– someone who truly believed they could talk their way out of any predicament. Unfortunately that meant he somehow became the unofficial spokesperson for your group. Boots stop in your sight, facing towards your father. 

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Blood runs off the tip of the bat, pooling on the ground. Your eyes drift over to it, watching the blood mix with the dirt.

All things considered, you feel lucky. The man Negan decided to swing at was someone you hardly knew. The poor guy was the latest addition to your group, someone who was only around for a couple of weeks before now. You still have your family, both of blood and those you consider family from how long you’ve all been travelling together.

“Well, I think we’ve done our fair fucking share,” Negan booms “got rid of another mouth you had to feed and we’re only taking half of your shit! Ain’t that good? I think that’s pretty damn good”.

He waits for your father to agree.

“It– … it’s good,” your father concedes, taking an audible gulp “T-thank you”.

Negan’s boots don’t move, letting everyone know that he’s not satisfied just yet. He simply watches the sniffling mess that is your father as he waits for more. Moments pass. Others cry. You hear Negan’s leather jacket groan as he shrugs.

“… That’s it?” he asks, a strange mixture of amusement and threat in his voice “I mean, shit, I should’ve gotten a thank you the second I said I’d only bash in one of your skulls! I think we’re past thank you’s”.

You keep your head down, almost too scared to move in case it draws his attention on to you next. 

“I gotta say, I kinda thought you’d have something better for me,” Negan sighs, scratching at his stubble “I’ve done a lot for you and your people and hell, I just got here! You don’t want to seem ungrateful, right? You’re not some ungrateful fuck who just thinks I’m doing all this shit out of the kindness of my heart, right?”.

Your father stutters, trying to get out words without knowing what to even say. Speaking to Negan is like defusing a bomb, constantly fearing you’ll say the wrong thing and set him off.

Slowly, you tilt your head to the side, trying to see your father. A part of you is terrified that this will be the last time you’ll ever see him breathing.

He sputters, a mixture of snot and spit glistening on his face. Even at the start of the apocalypse, he never looked as bad as this. Swallowing hard, you look back to the ground. Some of the others are still crying. A part of you wishes you could cry too but the tears refuse to come. Maybe it’s because you didn’t know the dead man well or maybe at this point, you’re simply numb to the horrors.

You retreat back to what you’re good at. Staying still and staring at the dirt in front of you, waiting for this nightmare to be over. You listen to your father continue to sputter on, not able to form a single word as he shifts in his spot, shakily moving some limbs. 

You don’t look up to see what exactly your father is doing, nor do you look up when Negan begins to walk again, his footsteps getting louder as he goes to pass you.

But he doesn’t.

Negan stops closeby. You’re not sure where precisely, once again not wanting to move your head. 

The noise that does catch your attention is the whooshing sound of his bat that’s too close for comfort. Acting on instincts, you immediately jerk your head backwards in the hopes of avoiding the impending smash. You look up, knowing there’s no point in acting like a statue if Negan’s already decided you’re next.

With wild eyes, you gawk at Negan. The sight you’re met with is worse than a quick crack against your temple. 

Lucille is right there, pointing directly at you. There’s a smile on Negan’s face but it’s different than before. That smile was cruel. This one is full of mischief.

“This one?” Negan asks, his eyes boring into you “Holy fucking shit, Christmas has come early! And I think I might too”.

You blink, unsure what he’s saying to you or why. Your mouth falls open, confusion lining your face before the sudden realisation hits. 

Negan may be looking at you, but he’s not talking to you. As if your body has the answer before your brain does, your head turns in the direction of your father. 

Refusing to look you in the eye, your father’s outstretched arm points directly at you. You don’t need to hear him say it to know what he means. Somehow, your trembling body stills at the raw betrayal. A cocktail of pain brews in your gut, one of hurt and confusion bubbling inside of you.

“No,” your voice comes out surprisingly strong as you shake your head “no, not me!”.

Despite Negan being in charge here, you don’t even address him. Something shifts within you. It’s not the sadness you would usually associate with something like this. Instead it’s a catalyst for something more fierce, a burning of rage that’s been building for too long.  

Negan ignores your words, too busy gloating now. “Well, damn! I thought you would’ve just got me a ‘Thank You basket’, not your daughter! Because I am assuming that’s your kid, right?” he continues to talk “well, shit, suppose I shouldn’t be calling her a kid actually. How old are you?”.

Despite this question being directed at you, you continue to ignore Negan. “No, you can’t do this to me! What— what the fuck is wrong with you?” your voice builds, eyes burning into your father “Answer me!”.

Whether he won’t look at you out of shame or denial at what he has done, you’re unsure. The only thing that is apparent is your father won’t be dignifying you with a response.

Turning on his heels, Negan signals for some of his men. “Put her in the truck” he says it so casually, the order barely registers with you.

The dirt crunches under the feet of more men but you’re not done. You want answers. “Are you fucking kidding me?” You argue at your father, your throat tightening “what the fuck have I done?! Why?”.

Nothing. Not even a tear. The only thing your father does is drop his arm back down by his side. 

“After everything?! Y-you’re just going to give me up?” Your voice raises, wanting any kind of acknowledgement.

Two men approach you, one grabbing your arm to hoist you up off your feet. In an flash, you kick out, getting one of them in the shin.

“Hey!” Negan suddenly loses his excitement, his voice a bark of authority as he points the bloodied Lucille at you “None of that shit or else it’s Daddy that’ll get it next”.

You scoff at his attempt to threaten you. If you’re being taken then all hope is lost. What’s the point in begging now? Especially for a man who just sold you down the river to hell. 

“Like I give a shit, dickhead” you spit out, each one of Negan’s henchmen taking an arm each as they haul you to an awaiting van. 

It’s jarring how fast Negan can change. Switching from a psychopath to a charming man within a matter of seconds, over and over again. He smiles widely as you get dragged off. 

“Wow!” Negan turns his attention back to your father “now I can see why’d you want to get rid of her as fast as possible! She’s got a way with words, that’s for sure”.

You wonder if Negan will be able to pry a reaction out of your father that you could not. But before you can see if he does, you're thrown into the back of the van and shut out from seeing the rest…

———————————————————

That all happened almost two weeks ago. It’s surprising to think you’ve been stuck in his goddamn parlour from hell for that long already. Thankfully, Negan has let you be, having some sense of how traumatic it’s been for you.

The second you arrived at the Sanctuary and got hauled out of the van, Negan said some words to his men and you were ushered off. He never even looked in your direction. You weren’t sure if you were grateful or annoyed that after everything, he wouldn’t even glance at you. 

After that, you were dressed up like a doll and sent in here with the rest of the wives. They don’t speak to you much, though you can’t blame them.

You’ve been trying to process how exactly you got here, what led up to this and how quickly your father not only folded, but decided to offer you up as the sacrificial lamb. 

With nothing else to do in the wives parlour, you spend most of your days thinking back, wondering when exactly did your own father stop caring about you.

Negan visits at least once a day, coming in to crack a few jokes and try his luck with a few of the women. Usually one will always leave with him. He has yet to approach you. Sometimes Negan goes quiet and lets an unusual lull of silence take place. That’s when you know he’s looking at you, waiting for you to meet his gaze so he can finally approach.

You never do though, simply doing what you did when you first met him and keeping your head down.

It seems to do the trick and he steers clear of you. Whether it’s because he feels sorry for you or he’s waiting for the right moment to strike, you can’t tell.

Every day is the same. Wake up, put on a godawful dress, walk down to the parlour with the rest of the wives and stay there until it’s time for bed. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are all sent up to you. Drinks are in the bar in the corner of the room too and so there’s no need for anyone to leave.

There are only three ways to leave the parlour during the day. Either you leave with Negan, everyone is summoned to the open area downstairs to watch someone get ironed or, your personal favourite, a bathroom break.

Despite how lavish they try to make the parlour seem, it’s still a room in an old factory. There are no private toilets attached to each room. Hell, they’re lucky there are bathrooms found on every level. From what you’ve heard so far, it sounds like Negan is the only one that has his own en-suite. Surprise, surprise.

The bathroom breaks are your favorite part of the day. It’s bliss. For the first few days, you were escorted from the parlour down the hall to the bathroom but now, the Saviors on guard just let you go do your business. It’s the only time all day you truly get to be alone. No one watches you and it’s the one place you don’t have to worry about Negan barging in.

It’s the one room that provides you with the tiniest bit of reprieve you yearn for. Most of the time you just stand there, eyes closed as you lean against the sink and take a deep breath. For a few precious moments, you don’t have to think about Negan or the betrayal of your father. And that’s exactly what you need now, that fleeting sense of relief even if it’s just for a few minutes.

Mumbling that you need to use the bathroom to the guards outside the parlour door, they move aside. It’s the only time they ever do, making you feel like you have a sliver of control.

The corridor is full of closed doors, many you’re not sure what is behind it or if each room is even used. Sometimes you wonder which one leads to Negan’s bedroom, just so you know which one to avoid.

Your shoes are the only noise in the corridor, clicking along. Usually the bathroom door is always open, but today it mirrors every other door. As you get closer, you hear the quiet sobs of Amber, who’s locked herself inside for a quick crying fit.

You sigh, leaning up against the wall and waiting patiently. This is fine. This just means you get more time away from the others. Shutting your eyes, you allow yourself to zone out for a few moments… until you hear it. 

The rhythmic, high pitched sound. The familiar tone, like a faint memory just out of reach. Your senses sharpen as the realization hits you, your eyes shooting open.

It’s him. 

Leaning with your back flush against the wall, as if that’ll make you invisible, you tap on the bathroom door.

“Amber?” You whisper, tapping again “Amber, I really need to go”. 

The muffled sound of shifting inside the bathroom makes you hold your breath, but no response comes. Desperate, you try the handle. 

Locked.

“Amber, come on!” you mutter under your breath, head turning from the door to the dim corridor,  waiting for him to appear.

There’s a beat of silence, then at the other end of the corridor, you see his silhouette. Broad yet lanky. Looming yet relaxed. Your eyes are drawn to the bat, hanging at his side. It looks prickly this far away, as if he’s holding a damn cactus and not a killer bat. 

You freeze, eyes never leaving the silhouette. As much as you don’t want your gaze to draw him closer, you don’t want to take your eyes off of him either. Taking your eyes off Negan is asking for trouble.

“Well, look who it is!”.

Shit. Staying against the wall, you say nothing in response. Negan moves closer, eyes watching you with amusement. Wagging a finger at you, he pretends to look suspicious “Now I sure as shit don’t think you’re supposed to be out here, unless you’re finally doing an escape attempt?”.

He lets the question hang as he saddles up beside you and leans against the wall. He keeps his eyebrows raised, as if he’s waiting for you to entertain his question with an actual answer.

Silence.

Negan nods “Hm… quiet today… per usual”.

The door beside you finally opens and a sniveling Amber exits. You note the sound of a toilet flush not greeting your ears. Maybe the bathroom isn’t just your place of solace.

Negan ignores how the young blonde tries to hide her red rimmed eyes. With one quick look at Negan, she lowers her head and hurriedly goes back down the corridor. 

Watching her go, you take a step towards the bathroom before she stops you. Lucille. Negan side steps you and his outstretched arm juts Lucille out until the top of her touches the wall. It acts as a barrier between you and the open door, making you stop again.

“How’s about a treat?” He asks “Instead of doing your business in that shithole, how’s about you come into my room, let you do your business on a real throne”. He snickers at his own joke.

It’s not a suggestion. It’s an order and you know it. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze. Negan’s eyes are sharp, tracking your every second and reading each minute reaction. The way his smirk flickers for just a second tells you all you need to know. He’s enjoying the control he has here, like always.

Keeping your voice steady, you finally speak. “You think you’re funny?” The words come out lower than you intend but you can’t help it.

Negan’s smirk widens, a slow, deliberate movement that’s more of a warning than anything else. “I don’t just think I’m funny, sweetheart,” he purrs, his voice a smooth rasp now “I know I am”.

He taps the bat against the wall and it echoes down the barren hallway like a clock counting down. “So? What’s it gonna be? You gonna make me wait, or are you gonna follow the damn order?” his tone hardens slightly.

You take a breath, your eyes flicking from Lucille to his face. Lowering your head, you turn away from the bathroom. 

Negan watches you in silence as you turn away, his gaze heavy but unreadable. The moment he turns to walk down the corridor, you silently fall into step behind him. This is the most vulnerable you’ve seen Negan. Back turned to you, unable to defend himself for the second it would take him to turn. And yet he knows you won’t attack. That you can’t.

When you reach his door, he simply opens it with a casual twist of his wrist, stepping inside first and then holding the door for you with a slight gesture. “After you,” he says, his voice thick with amusement.

You step inside. It’s decorated sparsely, but with an odd sense of comfort—like it’s a place someone actually lives in. 

A large bed sits in the middle against one of the walls, with a few scattered papers and books near a small table. He closes the door behind you and leans against it, still watching you with that unreadable smile. 

“Make yourself at home,” Negan drawls “bathroom’s that way.” He points to a door on the far side of the room.

It’s hard to ignore the fact that every inch of the space feels like it’s his, even the air you breathe. You make your way to the bathroom, his eyes following you the whole way. 

You step into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you with an unsettling finality. The walls are a calm beige and the light is surprisingly warm and comforting. Not that it helps with your situation. Your heart is already thundering in your chest, blood rushing in your ears, drowning out everything except the cold realization that you’re stuck here. With him.

He has you exactly where he wants you. Alone with him. No other wives to distract him or butt in and inadvertently save you from engaging with him. Now it’s just you, stuck in his private quarters, where no one will help.

You scan the small space, looking for anything that could help you escape. The sink is just a sink, the mirror above it large and reflecting the usual sight of you in a dress. The shower is large but useless to you now and the small, claw-footed tub looks like it’s seen better days.

Your eyes dart around the room, desperate. There’s no way out. Nothing to use as a weapon. Just a toilet brush although you’re not sure if you could stomach the humiliation of trying to bat off Lucille with that.

You take a few steadying breaths, forcing your thoughts into some semblance of order. Your eyes flick to the window. It’s a small, high-up one that’s barely big enough for a rat, let alone a person to squeeze through. And that’s not even considering how high up you are. No good.

Turning on the taps you let the water run, hoping it’ll make him think you’re just doing the usual. Taking some of the water you splash it on your face and the back of your neck. All of this is too much. 

How has your only time for peace turned into such a nightmare?

You use one of his fluffy hand towels to dry your face, patting your skin gently. 

And who the hell has white fluffy towels in the apocalypse?

You huff, turning off the taps. You’re met with silence, the taps not even offering an extra drip of water. The quiet presses in on you like a weight, thick and suffocating. At first, you think it’s just the quiet of the bathroom, but then you realize… there’s no sound of movement, no low hum of Negan’s voice, no casual whistling or muttered remarks.

Nothing.

Your heart skips a beat, hopeful that the situation isn’t as dire as you believed. You strain your ears, listening hard, but the only sound you can hear is your own shallow breathing and the distant buzz of the light above you. 

Has he left? The thought is both a relief and a curse. If he’s gone, then maybe, you have a shot at sneaking out of here and pretending none of this ever happened. You pause with your hand on the door handle, knuckles white from the grip. Holding your breath, you dare to listen again, straining against the silence, but still nothing.

Your instincts scream at you to get moving but your body stays frozen, unsure. Slowly, you turn the handle and step out. He’s not by the bed, or sitting on one of the couches. A part of you expected him to be sprawled out on the bed, waiting for you to take on your wively duty but thankfully, you seem to have been spared today. 

Silently thanking what or whoever is looking out for you, you start to take quick steps towards the exit. The coincidence that Negan has been called out or distracted just as he’s finally gotten you alone is big but not one you want to sit around and ponder. Darting around the bed, you’re just about to pass the couches when he speaks. 

“Bottled in 2006,” he reads the label of a bottle “well, shit, doesn’t that sound like a lifetime ago?”. As if to purposefully hide out of sight, Negan stands in the corner of the room, hovering by a small wagon of bottles. All alcoholic, you assume no less. You stop dead in your tracks and as if to approve, Negan gives you the ghost of a smirk.

As much as you want to ignore him and go, doubt clouds your mind. Is there one of his Saviors waiting outside, guarding the door? Does he want you to run?

“You a drinker, sweetheart?” he asks, despite already having two glasses out. You linger, not wanting to sit down and accept this predicament but not wanting to run into a barrage of gruff Saviors outside this room. 

Bringing both drinks over to his couches, one filled more than the other, Negan sits “Don’t matter anyways, why don’t you give this a try”. He sets the lesser one on the coffee table, waiting for you.

He waits a beat before ordering “Sit”.

Looking at the drink, you weigh up your options. Negan simply sits there, sipping his own drink. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to run, easily giving him a reason to treat you with a harsher hand. Whether that would entail you “working for points” like most of the others here or getting sent to the cells you’ve heard whispers about, you don’t know.

Swallowing your nerves, you force your legs to move. One step. Another. Your fingers brush the edge of the couch as you sit opposite him. 

You didn’t think it was possible for someone to annoy you so much. You hate him. Hate the way he sits there, casually sipping his drink as if you’re at some sort of fucked-up cocktail party. Hate the way he knows this is the last thing you want. The way he watches you. The constant smirking or grinning as if he’s a friend.

You look at the drink, fingers itching to throw it. Smash it against the wall and see it shatter against his belongings, staining it all. The temptation is there. But so is the fear of the consequences.

You stare at the drink in front of you, the amber liquid gleaming like some cruel invitation. It’s not just alcohol; it’s a test. A way for Negan to see if you’ll obey. A way for him to claim another piece of you.

Your hand trembles, just a fraction, but you catch it before it gives you away. You’re not afraid. Not yet. But the tension in your chest tells a different story.

Every muscle is tight, coiled, like you’re waiting to sprint or snap. You can’t decide if you should laugh or scream at the absurdity of it all. Here you are, sitting in a goddamn room with a psychopath, drinking his damn poison because—what? Because you’re scared of what happens if you don’t?

You pick up the glass, your fingers gripping it tightly. The crystal feels cold. You bring it to your lips, not daring to look at him. If you do, you’ll lose the last shred of whatever control you have left.

The liquid slides down your throat—smooth and sweet—but it leaves a trail of fire behind it. It burns like it’s alive, crawling through your veins to mark you.

Negan lets out a satisfied hum, having another sip of his own drink. “You’ve been here for how many weeks now?” he asks, well aware you won’t answer. When you prove him right, he smiles and gives you a nod “And you’re still hellbent on the silent treatment, huh?”.

Leaning forward, he balances some weight on Lucille, her spiky end sticking into the rug beneath him. “Well, sweetheart, I think it’s about time we have a chat”.

Like a monk sworn to their oath, you stay quiet. But you know the silent treatment can’t last long. And you know you’ll have to put up with this supposed chat. With none of the other wives or Saviors around to distract Negan, you’re left to fend for yourself.

There is, of course, one more thing you know. You’re fucked.

PART 2 FOUND HERE

[boredpotate]

Happier Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Arcane or any other kind of media mentioned or linked.

Concept: Isekai Fem Reader turns back time to fix her timeline, but has unforeseen consequences. (If you want to know the full idea I had then it's in the first chapter)

Note: Didn't mention in the first chapter, but I'm going to assume Vi was 11 and Powder was 6 in the opening scene since I don't think it has been confirmed.

(Edit: Forgot to add something. I'm considering letting Reader have a romance with Timebomb, but IDK. Not fully decided yet.)

Vander Pov

Five years.

Five years since two little girls lost their parents on that bridge and since I became a father of two. Didn't think I would take in two more kids from the streets after them, but then again I never thought I would be a father. The two new additions were boys, all together they became a loyal little crew of four Undercity kids. Speaking of.

"You sure this this one's gonna work Pow Pow? The last one almost gave me a concussion.", Vi asks as Powder works on another one of her latest inventions. Supposed to be some kind of smoke bomb.

Powder puffs her cheeks a little with a pout.

"I said I was sorry and I told you it was a test. I didn't mean for it to have a delay on it. The switch went off later than I planned.", she says grumpily, but a hint of guilt in there.

"Of course not. That's just because you're a jinx.", Mylo says teasingly which makes Vi sock him in the arm. Making Claggor chuckle a little. Deserved, honestly.

"It's fine. I just don't want you blowing yourself up."

I smile as I set down drinks for them, not alcohol of course, before turning to Powder.

"Just make sure you don't run any tests in here. Unless you all want to spend the day cleaning paint off bar.", I say before taking a good look at my troop of trouble makers.

Claggor, big and strong, but not dumb. Smarter and wiser than others actually. A kind soul..... unless you're looking for a fight. Kid can take hits and hit you back harder.

Mylo, not the biggest nor the baddest, but surprisingly cunning if you didn't know him before hand. Always putting up a cocky facade, but he does care. Though he has a problem with making his face enticing to punch.

Powder, youngest of them all has a knack for mechanics and inventing. A tinkerer through and through, like Benzo's boy, Ekko. So much potential in a little bundle of joy. She'll go far in life. As long as she doesn't blow herself up first.

Vi, the oldest, the protector and the leader of the four. Always wanting to put herself in front of all the danger for her family. Take on all the burden, like the stubborn girl she is. Especially for her sister. Most likely to kick a door down before checking if it's unlocked.

Together we were a family. Honestly this would have been enough for me, but to think I'd get my brother back too.

"I'm sure it will go well this time. I took a look at the mechanism, she only needs to make a few adjustments.", Silco says, sitting next to Powder while working on his notes and occasionally glancing at Powder's work.

Silco, my brother in every way but blood. I didn't think I'd ever be able to rekindle our bond from before. He read my letter. Apparently he stayed in hiding for a few years to think about all that happened and himself. I still remember when he came back, around the time I took in Mylo and Claggor, the feeling I had felt when he just came walking in one day like it was any other regular day.

We talked about our mistakes and regrets. We reminisced on the old days when we were young and dumb, and when Felecia was still alive. It took time, still is, but right now? We're in a good place now. Forgave each other and moving forward to help Zuan. He and Powder seem to get along well, which is good. Silco was always the smarts between the two of us; always had his nose in his notes or a book.

I couldn't help but smile when looking at the scene. The bar felt more alive nowadays, the kids I took in talking and bickering but safe, and the man who is like a brother to me is back. All in The Last Drop where it's safe. All we need is Benzo and his boy, Ekko, here and we'll have the whole party together.

Everything i-

Dad?

Damn. That damn voice again. Been bugging me ever since the bridge. Like a memory, but from talks I've never had with someone before.

SoOoo, QUiCk qUestIOn. wHo get's THE bAr wHeN YoU reTiRe? hM?

Who is that? I can barely make it out to be a kid's, but I never heard any kid like that. Yet, it feels like I'm supposed to know. It brings out that same feeling in my chest that I have for my kids.

"Vander?"

I look back up to Silco, who is looking at me with concern in his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Is everything alright? You froze there for a second."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm fine, nothings wrong. Just.... something bugging my head for awhile."

He looks at me with some worry, but drops it after Powder grabs his attention. Probably something about her tinkering.

I go to clean a few glasses as I ponder on the voice again.

'Who is that?'

Reader Pov

"Get back here you little shit!"

I hear and ignore the shouts as I keep running. I managed to eavesdrop on a deal. Heard them talk about there drop off point for payment. The people came earlier than I expected for the money and I got caught in the act. Now I'm running through the streets with five people on my trail. Not my fault everyone ignores kids when discussing stuff.

I weave through alley ways and crowds in the streets with a mask and hood. After years of growing up in it, it's only natural that it's pretty easy to navigate. Especially as a kid; there's lots of little crevices and old pipe lines to slip into. Though these people are pretty persistent, but I can't really blame them. Seems like whatever job they did paid a lot based on the weight of the bag, though I am a kid so I could be wrong.

I take a quick look back to see that the crowd built me a good bit of distance before quickly ducking into another alley. I take many turns before getting onto another crowded street and build some distance before I start blending into the crowd. I see one of them pop out from the alley, but it's already too late. I'm good as gone now.

I steady my breathing as I begin to backtrack from where I ran from. They'll probably stay in this area and wait for me or some kid with a bag to come out, meanwhile my home is on the nowhere near here.

Home.

'I miss home.'

I thought it would be easier than this honestly. Not the living part, that's easy. Zuan isn't some drug filled city like before where everyone is trying to be on top. This like a playground compared to what it turned into. People still have a sense of community and gangs aren't taking over, or at least not completely.

Zuan went from being a dog town to a pit full of chickens and snakes. No more dogs ready to bark and bite for their own, ready to gather together and fight back when backed too far into a corner by the rich. Just a bunch of snakes chasing to be on top and taking out anyone who get's in their way. A bunch of snakes and fakes being led on by even bigger fakes and snakes; couldn't lead from the front or do their own dirty work.

What's hard is staying away from everyone, but it's worth it. To see them happy and together again. It'll really show it's worth in a few years. When everyone can come together and that bridge doesn't need to divide us anymore. Where markets can be opened and communities can intertwine with one another.

Plus, it's good to see Vander and Silco talking again. Even with everything that's happened last time; Silco grew on me. I never thought he would, but like Powder, he became another father figure to me. He didn't like to show it, but I knew he cared.

It took awhile to find him after I got Vander's letter from the mines, but after a lot of eavesdropping and investigating I tracked him down to some old bunker. Slipped inside when there was an opening and left the letter. Just had to hope that was enough to change his mind, and luckily it was.

Without Silco meeting Singed, Shimmer doesn't exist, and hopefully it stays that way for good. Though I still keep an eye out for it. Either way it's one problem dealt with, now onto the bigger one. Hextech.

That one damn job ruined everything, even when I tried preventing it from happening or going wrong. Things still went to shit. Hextech, always advertised as a sign of progress and innovation for everyone was only made for the wealthy. While Piltover thrived, Zuan was left in the dust and forgotten. It only stirred the pot and upped the heat. It just made people more frustrated, hateful, and more open to an aggressive stand against Piltover.

Watching all of this play out was one thing, but living in it? Watching as your very own home was slowly killing itself with no help from it's so called leaders? It was horrible. So many people I knew were killed, corrupted or became another addict hooked on Shimmer. Meanwhile the council and enforcers just let it happen. They could have at least gained control before it grew too big, it was obvious what was beginning to fester, but they didn't. Too busy enjoying the benefits of Hextech and luxury.

'Fuck Hextech.'

My mind wanders and procrastinates on possible dangers and outcomes as I make my way home. Before I know it I'm already across the Undercity, deep into the lanes where it reaches under the river above. Dark, smog everywhere and mostly filled with lowlife crooks and junkies, but less likely to run into the family. Here I can stay hidden.

I find my way home safely in an abandoned building. Parts of it crumbled away, but I managed to make a home for myself in one of the rooms on the upper floors. It was enough.

"Home, sweet home.", I say as I close the door behind me and lock it. I toss the bag aside to count later before flopping myself down on my makeshift bed. Not comfy, but better than nothing. I turn over and stare at the ceiling as I contemplate the future.

"I need to stop Hextech no matter what. One job. Get in, take the crystals, and get out before the crew get's there. Just gotta wait for Jayce to get here. Then it'll all be okay.", I say as begin to drift off into much needed sleep.

Powder Pov

"Stupid, Mylo. What does he know?", while fiddling with one of the toys Vander got for me. Looking out over the buildings buildings of Zuan and the few stars I can see in the night.

PoWDEr

I wheel my head around looking for the source of the unknown voice.

"Hello?", I call out but receive no response.

Y'kNoW, YOu'Re SmArTer tHaN yOu tHiNk yOu'Re RiGhT?

I hear it again, so I stand up and search my surroundings.

"W-Who's there!?", I say, trying to be as brave as Vi. I don't think I'm doing that good.

PoWder, pLEasE LisTen tO Me cAUse I mEAN it. yOU'rE nOt a jiNx. YOu'Re So mUcH MoRe tHaN yOu ThInK yOu ArE, yOU jUsT DoN't sEe iT yEt.

I hear the weird voice again. I realize it's not from someone but from my head, like when I remember a conversation, but much louder. I suddenly feel a sharp headache.

"W-What's happening?" I ask not knowing what's going on.

JinX oR No JiNx. I wiLl AlWaYs bE hERe PoWder. I pROmiSe. I wOn'T aBaNdOn YoU.

Why did that voice sound familiar? Why was it comforting?

"Who are you?"

"Powder!"

I lift my head and see Vi looking relieved, probably has been looking for me.

"There you are I was looking around for you. C'mon it's time for bed.", she says, but I stay still and wait for my headache to die down before taking a breather. I see Vi walk towards me before kneeling down and putting a hand on my head.

"Hey, is everything okay Pow Pow? What's wrong?", Vi asks with concern in her eyes and voice, but I don't know how to respond.

'I don't even know what that was.'

"....Yeah, I-I think so. Just a little headache.", I say, not wanting to worry her over was I heard. Remembered? I don't know.

"Are you sure?"

I do take a second to consider telling her the truth but.....

I wiLl AlWaYs bE hERe PoWder. I pROmiSe.

"Yup. It's fine. I think I'm tired from working on my stuff all day.", I say, trying my best to sound casual. She looks hesitant for second before nodding.

"Alright. Let's go to bed.", She says as she stands up and puts a hand on my shoulder and we head back inside.

As we walk to our room I can't help but think about that voice.

'Why do I remember it? Vi never said that, not Claggor, not Ekko either and definitely not Mylo. So, who is it?'

As I lay in bed and drift off to sleep I can't help but still feel that pull to that voice.

'Why can't I remember? And, why does that make me sad?'

3rd Person

As Powder goes to bed for the night with a head filled with questions about an unfamiliar, yet nostalgic voice. She doesn't know she is not the only one.

A voice being remembered by multiple people, but not able to be recognized by any. It only brings more questions and a feeling of longing and guilt for this voice. Unknowingly something darker lurks underneath all of it. Waiting.

Note: Might either do a little time skip next and work on a little more development for events and the reader, or just do a big time skip next chapter. IDK, I'll figure it out. I just didn't want there to be and immediate jump in time and at least have some kind of development on how things have changed and what reader is doing, and have been doing.

[sun4ki]

“So young and pretty, it’s too bad they passed”

- In my room _ By insane clown posse

Aeon of light!Gn Reader X various Hsr women hcs

Characters (Ruan Mei, Kafka, Robin, Himeko, Black Swan, Natasha)

Gn Reader being forgotten Aeon of Light, keeping their distance around any human life as they wandering peacefully around the universe. Having great and powerful strength, only to be degraded by other, stronger Aeons. They hid their identity but that would soon change as these women found Gn reader and took them in...

Warnings: slight ooc? MEN OR HOMOPHOBIC DNI

Author's note: first fic post like actually :p hope you like this! I'm open to criticism and improvement! Sorry for bad English, its not my first language and im dyslexic :(

Ruan mei

The scientist who found you wandering all alone in the secluded zone, the poor Aeon got lost and ended up in the Herta space Station..

Lucky for you, That was the day Ruan Mei visited. You explored the Secluded area, seeing a lot of these critters around.

feeling curious you picked up one of them, only to hear mechanical noises of a door being opened behind you. You turned around seeing the Scientist who created these critters herself. . .

“How interesting . . “ the scientist spoke to herself in a monotone manner

Eventually Ruan Mei soon took you in, doing some simple experiments for her study.

“Hold still , this would be less painful if you stop with the unnecessary movement .”

You could only sit and watch idly as the scientist takes some blood sample from you for her research on an extraordinary being like you

Kafka

Kafka found you during one of her missions, She took you in, saying how it was “destiny’s plan”, how both of you were destined to meet eventually. . .

Elio had already told her it was part of her “script” meeting with you and bringing you with. . .

The stellaron hunter knew you could be a great addition to their team— I mean just imagine a powerful yet forgotten Aeon of Light in the stellaron hunters team ?! Not to mention you would also be a great sparring partner

“You’re pretty strong Y’know ?

Great for me to test my skills on without you dying ~ “

Jokes aside Kafka is actually very gentle and caring about you, aware of the fact you don’t know a lot about how humanity lived (considering you kept your distance around them), she would teach you how to blend in and live a life like the rest . . .

Robin

By the time you got to Penacony, you were immediately drawn to this ethereal singing . . .

When you saw Robin for the first time, you were mesmerized by her beauty as she sang. . . Her looks reminded you one of an Angel, a beautiful one, you couldn’t take your eyes off her

The two of you became fast friends, Robin would guide you around Penacony, she was like your tour guide, showing you around the dreamscape.

Robin was actually very supportive about your whole Aeon of Light thing, and just like Kafka, she would often accompany you and teach the ways to live like the rest

her brother Sunday doesn’t actually approve of you though , he’s suspicious of you and Robin’s relationship but ether way Robin would ensure you he means good

“Don’t mind my brother . .

He’s just concerned about me . .”

Himeko

Himeko found you in one of express’s trailblazer missions right after they left penacony, Himeko took it upon herself to take care of you, aware of the fact you still felt unsure about the rest of the members

The navigator would often let you sleep in her cabin, accompanying you as you would always feel comfortable in her embrace . .

It’s not a surprise you would avoid any contact with the other members of the train. . Either way, when the others set out for another expedition, you would stay behind with Himeko, making sure Himeko is protected and safe at all costs . . .

Maybe because you’re close or maybe because she reminds you of a certain someone in The past you can’t quite identify. . (Doing this cuz i miss murata himeko)

“You’re clingy sometimes you know..?

Who knew the Aeon of Light could act like a clingy love sick puppy at times ?”

Black swan

When you enter penacony, you haven’t seen black swan just yet. . She would be keeping an eye on you from a distance before actually revealing who she is . . (She gives me stalker vibes idk)

She finds you intriguing . . She would observe how you behave for a few days or so and by the looks at it- you clearly don’t know how to act properly around others let alone socialize . .

That’s when the Memokeeper decided to step out of her “bird hide” enough with watching you like a delicate bird unaware of her keen eyes

“What’s an interesting being like you wandering all alone in this dreamscape ?”

Black swan would look into your memories aswell . . Witnessing your past . . Aswell as the memories of being degraded by other Aeons and being forced to live in the shadows of the universe to be left and forgotten. .

“What a poor birdie you are . .” The woman would whisper

“Don’t worry dear ~ I’ll make sure to take care of you ”

Natasha

As soon as you got to Belobog, you were immediately sent to the underground. . .

Let’s just say the guards gave you a not so “friendly” Welcome, which lead to fighting- a lot of fighting-

The fight eventually forced you to be sent to the underground

Natasha was the first to find you, you met her while she was doing some errands . . . Seeing that Natasha was actually kind and gentle with you, you stayed by her side, helping her in the clinic and with the kids

Eventually, Natasha introduced you to the other wildfire members, you started helping in the underground, being a big help in taking care of the people there, like the underground’s guardian.

you would help with the wildfire’s fights, often getting all bruised up since you force yourself to not use your full power.. but whenever you do, atleast you have your trusty doctor to patch you back up

“Just be careful next time okay sweetie?” She would often tell you

Little side note: i was actually supposed to add acheron and stelle lmfao but i got busy and keep forgetting to write their part haha, i will add them though if any of you want a part two. You can also recommend other characters to add ^^

[vendetta-if]

Chapter 7 + Ash Hangout Public Update is now live! 🎉

The Chapter 7 and Ash Hangout update is finally here 🔥😁 I'm sorry for the slight delay, I had something urgent to attend to today and I just got home and I just basically went straight to my computer to upload this update.

Finally, we are starting to get into the ROs' first hangout sessions. Of course, to start us off, we'll have Ash's hangout session 😁This update adds around 31K of new words, bringing the total word count so far to around 356,701K words!

Anyway, this update also brings quite a lot of changes in the coding, especially for the skip chapter function, so I'm going to strongly suggest you guys play with clean save, either from the beginning or using the skip chapter function.

I have recently added another skip-chapter checkpoint, which is Chapter 3 in addition to the already existing one on Chapter 6. There is also now an autosave function at the beginning of every chapter starting on Chapter 2, so you'll be able to replay any chapter you're currently reading and try out different options in that chapter.

Anyway, enough of the technicalities.

Here's what you can expect in this update:

The set up to the ROs'  first hangout sessions

Ash's first hangout session

Go down the memory lane and see snippets of MC's most cherished memories.

Some more Viktor 😔

A mix of angst, wholesome, and even potential fluff 🤭

🔥🧡😉

Ash/Rin poly route is not yet ready for this hangout and it's still work-in-progress 🙏

New stuff added to previous chapters:

Added autosave/reload function for Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, and Chapter 5.

Added another skip-chapter point to Chapter 3, in addition to the already existing Chapter 6.

Also, little news that I'm going to make a post of tomorrow, I'm about to open both the Side Story and Spicy Side Story ideas and suggestions for this month on both Patreon and Ko-Fi, so if you're interested in supporting me while also getting some exclusive stuff, please do consider checking out my pages and subscribing 💖

I hope you guys enjoy the update! Oh, and also, feel free to send asks about the new update, but I'll probably hold off on answering them until a few days have passed to make sure a lot of readers already have the chance to check out the update and not accidentally spoil them 😊

[DEMO] | [PATREON] | [KO-FI] | [DISCORD] | [COG FORUM]

[lu-is-not-ok]

Nocturnal Sweeping Intervallo teaser frame-by-frame analysis

That's right, you didn't think I was going to leave this teaser without saying anything about it, did you? In fact, I have. Way too fucking much to say really.

Before anything though, I wanna give a shout out to @chorin342 for the translations of the hanzi that shows up during the trailer, which helped A Lot with figuring out what awaits us.

Now, onto the trailer itself.

After the several seconds long title screen of the Intervallo, we're given another view of the setting, this time with a sort of tv screen-esque overlay. The whole teaser seems to be somewhat structured to mimic a sort of action movie trailer, potentially hinting to this potentially being a more action-packed Intervallo.

The text (which in case it's hard to read on the screenshot says "We were greeted by a dark street upon disembarking from the bus, illuminated only by faints strands of light.") accompanying this CG seems to be a part of Dante's narration based on its contents. We're likely seeing a glimpse of just the intro part of the Intervallo.

After a few seconds, the following pops up on the screen with a booming sound effect:

This simply translates to "District 8", further confirming information that is about to be revealed.

Just as this text disappears, the narration continues, saying "It was immediately obvious that we had arrived in the Backstreets of H Corp."

Similarly to what I and many other speculated, we are going to H Corp's District, and the Intervallo specifically takes place within its Backstreets.

Then, we get the two following bits of text:

This translates to "Hongyuan/Hong garden Life Engineering Corporation". Or, as the second one illuminates, the full name of "H Corp".

In addition to the reveal of H Corp being a company that specializes in engineered life, the character for the "Hong" part of the name is the exact same as used in Hong Lu's own name. The connection is already clear and we're barely fifteen seconds into the teaser.

Then we're onto the Identity trailers, with the above literally just being that. "Identity".

Both the Outis and Ryoshu Identities belong to the Heishou Pack - Mao Branch. Heishou translating to Black Beast, and Mao translating to Rabbit in the context of the twelve Chinese zodiac animals, as well as Wood in the context of the five Chinese elements.

I'm not going to go over the Identity trailers in too much detail, but I will mention things that I think will be important to the plot of the Intervallo.

The Mao Branch of the Heishou Pack appear to be a group hired by whoever they call "lord". Notably, both Identities express that their loyalty lays with the one that holds that title, rather than a specific individual. They're shown to be ready to betray the one who formerly carried that title at a day's notice, and are aware of their nature enough to deem themselves inherently untrustworthy.

In both trailers the Identities face off against average-looking gangsters. Those are likely to be the enemies we face off during the intro part of the Intervallo, before we run into any Sweepers.

According to the Identities' other voice lines, the Mao Branch's job takes place primarily during the night, potentially "taking care" of whatever target they're given by their lord by killing them in the middle of the night and letting the Sweepers clean them up before anyone can find any evidence.

Ryoshu's Identity here also makes a very interesting comment, about how the Mao Branch has "the same roots" as R Corp's Rabbit Pack, but "have grazed on different grass" and thus comparing them to each other is deemed stupid. Considering the implication of H Corp being a "life engineering" company and R Corp's technology in cloning, this might imply that their respective technologies are in some way similar in nature, yet different enough that it'd be stupid to actually compare them.

I also want to make a small observation about the aesthetics of the group. Specifically their color palette of black and yellow. It honestly kind of reminds me of the Udjat and Arbiters, and considering both of those are essentially military forces (hired by a private individual and a governing body respectively) it might allude to the Heishou Pack's nature as being not that unlike them.

Alright, back to the rest of the trailer.

We get another CG of the Backstreets, alongside what appears to be actual dialogue. (In case it's too hard to read, it says "A-are you sure we're going the right way? I don't like the sound of that weird song...") The most likely candidate to be saying this is Sinclair due to his tendency to stutter and appear nervous when he speaks, but it could be someone else as well.

Either way, this line implies that someone is guiding the Sinners through the Backstreets, potentially into somewhere dangerous and definitely suspicious.

Another text appears:

This literally translates to "round medicine", but it also appears to be the same word as used in two of Xichun's passives, that being bolus. Bolus in this context likely refers to a type of medicine administration, where a dose is introduced to the body to take effect over a short period of time.

Considering H Corp's "life engineering" (perhaps even downright bioengineering) tech, they might have a notable interest in pharmaceuticals as well.

Next scene.

Another view of the Backstreets, this time giving us a clear view of the Mansion taking up the entire goddamn skybox.

The text here (reading "The main streets are most likely teeming with those seeking to bring harm to the young master. We must venture an alternative path.") appears to be a piece of dialogue from an unknown party.

What we can tell about this person is that for one, they're the one guiding the Sinners through the Backstreets, meaning that the Sinners are completely at the mercy of this unknown party. The second thing we can tell about them however is that they're clearly aware of Hong Lu's identity and his ties to the Jia Family.

Considering what we've seen in the Identity trailers, I'd like to suggest that the Heishou Pack aren't going to be our enemies, or at least not at the start. They're likely to be hired by the Jia Family, and thus would have interest in keeping Hong Lu "safe". However, just because they want to protect the young master from harm, doesn't mean they feel the same way about the rest of the Sinners... if you know what I mean.

Next hanzi show up here.

This one translates to "complex" in the context of a building. This could potentially refer to the Mansion in the background, calling it a complex and thus potentially a sort of conglomerate of multiple Mansions. Alternatively, it could be referring to the dwellings Sweepers use, calling those dens a complex of their own.

After this we get a quick glimpse of a black screen getting covered with red Sweeper eyes and a rising noise. Likely foreshadowing as to what awaits the Sinners if they are to follow their new guide.

The scene changes again.

Multiple things. While I didn't capture it in this screenshot, combat takes place in the background here. While it's hard to make out because of the big fuckass hanzi in the way, it appears as if the Heishou Pack is fighting alongside the Sinners rather than against them, further implying that they're the ones guiding them through the Backstreets.

The hanzi here translates to "life insurance". This honestly could refer to a lot of things. It could refer to the Heishou Pack's role as being there to insure Hong Lu preserves his life. It could refer to H Corp's interest in immortality and thus insuring their own life. It could even potentially imply that H Corp deals with more literal life insurance, perhaps being in the business of insuring people with "spare lives" not unlike the situation of Pamela and Pameli in Ruina.

Notably, the "life" in life insurance here uses different characters to the ones commonly used in the term. However, this could just be an instance of PM being a Korean speaking company and thus not knowing the "proper" spelling of the phrase. A mistake in similar nature to them flipping Linton's first and last name, or calling "Don" a surname rather than a title in the original Korean script.

The dialogue here (reading "Looks like everyone in the Backstreets has been getting pretty plucky while I was away. Back then, I could even catch a glimpse of their faces-") is pretty clearly coming from Hong Lu, and continues on (reading "-Because they'd all be on their hands and knees whenever we walked past... Ah, what a wonderful change!").

This bit of dialogue establishes multiple things. For one, the Jia Family is important enough to garner extreme amounts of veneration from District 8 citizens, even out in the Backstreets. However, and more interestingly, for whatever reason Hong Lu alone isn't eliciting the same reaction. Whether it's because as Hong Lu says and there his been a shift in the status quo in the Backstreets, or whether it's something else that is causing people to not recognize Hong Lu as part of the Family is currently unclear.

Then, Ricardo Announcer. You get nothing from me about that, I just find it really fucking funny.

Then, back to the mayhem.

Here the text translates to "east" as in the context of a region. Which, makes sense. We are in the East region of the City now, this is likely a reference to that.

The dialogue here (reading "Oi, up yours with that wonderful change! How much longer 'til we get there?!") very likely comes from Heathcliff judging by the wording. It further foreshadows the suspicious nature of the Sinners' guides and that they might not be leading them where they think they are.

And, in case that wasn't already being made clear, in the background a wave of Sweepers just fucking descends upon the Sinners before static takes over the screen and we're back to the core event illustration.

So.

Let's summarize what we can gather from this trailer.

Our current destination, H Corp's District, is run by Hongyuan Life Engineering Corporation, a Wing with an interest in life insurance and pharmaceuticals. The Jia Family appears to be highly regarded in this District, to the point of likely being the ones who hired the Mao Branch of the Heishou Pack, a group specializing in operations under the cover of the night who are loyal to those holding certain ranks rather than to specific individuals.

Upon their arrival, the Sinners would come in contact with this group, who would recognize Hong Lu as a young master of the Family that hired them, and would thus wish to ensure his safety and likely return him to his home. As such, they serve as guides and allies for the first part of the Intervallo's plot.

However, the path this Pack leads the Sinners down is suspicious and long, and eventually leads them towards the Sweepers. There is a high chance that this was the Pack's trap all along, whether their motives are to take Hong Lu out because of an order from one of his siblings or to retrieve him and take him back to the Mansion while leaving the rest of the Sinners to die is yet to be seen. Either way however one thing is clear - the Black Beasts are indeed not to be trusted.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii, i was wondering if i could submit a request for a fic🤔I don't rlly have any specific prompt but i want it to be about karasu or zantetsu, either one is fine. i've read all of ur karasu fics and they're so good! i love ur writing sm!! if u don't want to i totally understand but i also just want to tell u that i think ur writing is awesome (^◡^)

Synopsis: You become taken with your coworker’s roommate, Karasu, unaware that he’s just as fascinated by you — and maybe he has been for longer than you realize.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 8.6k

Content Warnings: relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…, <- never thought i’d be using THAT for a karasu fic, i’m bored of normal karasu characterization so i made him ooc, he’s like fr a weirdo icl, otoya catches strays, yukimiya is just trying to get through the workday, reader is a model, reader’s feet are mentioned a lot?? not sexually in the slightest (they’re injured so she complains abt them) but i mean it’s there ig if you’re a hater, very vague and unfinished feeling not on purpose i just gave up tbh

A/N: you sent this to me so long ago idek if you remember it LMAOAOAO i am so sorry i like fell off the face of the earth in terms of answering requests but HERE IT IS erm sorry it actually highkey sucks but at least karasu is in it…i guess…UGHHHH I HATE THIS BUT I COULDN’T KEEP PROCRASTINATING IT YOU LITERALLY SENT THIS IN THE BEGINNING OF AUGUST I’M SO SORRY MY DEAR but also tysm HAHHA you are very sweet!! i’m glad you like my writing and once again i am sorry for disappearing…

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

You had never seen the man leaning against the wall behind the camera before. He wore a dark trench coat and a plaid scarf looped around his neck, and unlike everyone else bustling about the set, barking out orders and shoving each other into place, he was entirely calm. In his right hand, he held his phone, scrolling through something on it with his thumb, and in between his teeth was a lollipop — cherry flavored, which you only knew because of the wrapper lying at his feet.

“That’s not Yukimiya, right?” you whispered to the girl who was buttoning up the back of your top.

“Hm?” she said. “No, Mr. Yukimiya hasn’t checked in yet. I have no idea who that is.”

He was tall, with wide shoulders and the type of face that must have been crafted with painstaking detail by someone or another, his features keen, his eyes a brilliant shade of blue so dark they were nearly violet or black. Dark hair fell into darker eyebrows like the ink of a ballpoint pen on a paper-pale forehead, and just above his left cheekbone was a black beauty mark, which changed everything and yet nothing about him.

You supposed he must’ve sensed your gaze lingering on him, for he furrowed his brow and then lifted his chin, scanning the room before his eyes meet yours. He didn’t seem offended by the prying, his lips curling into a smile as he lifted his left hand into a jaunty wave, returning his attention to whatever he was reading on his phone before you could respond in turn or do anything to feel less like you had been caught committing some crime.

“I’m sorry I’m late!”

This must’ve been Kenyu Yukimiya, your partner for the shoot. He was handsome, too, with a harried, windswept appearance to his reddened cheeks and tousled hair; when he grinned at you apologetically, he was entirely reminiscent of a painting from antiquity.

He sat in the chair next to you as the makeup team got to work, applying the faintest touch of product so that he was not entirely washed out by the blinding lights of the cameras in your faces. You returned his smile with one of your own, polite and careful.

“Luckily, the director hasn’t arrived yet, so it’s not a problem,” you said. “Apparently, he’s strict on everyone but himself.”

Yukimiya winced as a heap of clothes was thrown at him and the finishing touches were placed on his chestnut hair. You watched him with amusement, your hands folded in your lap as he was yanked to his feet.

“Guess I got lucky this time, then,” he said, stumbling into the dressing room, the door slamming shut behind him. You stood yourself, stretching your arms and legs with a deep breath, rolling your ankles in the air, alternating as you did so, and then pacing back and forth in an attempt to accustom yourself to the monstrosities that your feet had been shoved into.

The man in the corner didn’t seem affected by the chaos Yukimiya’s appearance had thrown everyone into. You thought you saw something like a snort escape him, but otherwise he was calm — although you noticed he had tucked his phone away and shoved his hands in his pockets, opting to instead observe his surroundings with a soft curiosity.

You turned away before he could shift his attention to you once again, because your pride could not handle being caught by him a second time, and you pretended like you were entirely fascinated with putting one foot in front of the other, walking in a line so straight it was as if it had been drawn with a ruler.

Yukimiya reappeared completely ready a few seconds later, tying the laces of his dress shoes and then joining you at your side, although of course he did not need to practice walking or anything so silly. Like most men, he had been afforded the luxury of comfort; he wasn’t the showpiece of this edition, after all. You were, and so you were the one made up into a spectacle beyond natural ability or attempt.

“Everyone, in your places!” the director shouted as he entered the studio, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the other on his hip. He was diminutive in stature and wore a ridiculously feathered hat, but what he lacked in height, he more than made up for in position, so nobody would dare to say that to him, least of all you, who could so easily be replaced.

Still, for one final time, you allowed yourself to look at the man standing all by himself, wondering if he’d offer some reaction to the getup, some indication that you weren’t alone in your feelings. You weren’t sure why it was him who you sought out; perhaps because he, unlike everyone else, was a mystery, an enigma, and so while you could map out without knowing what all the other faces in the room looked like at that moment, you needed to see his to understand it.

He wrinkled his nose into a snicker, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes, and then he took his phone back out of his pocket, maybe to give himself an excuse for laughing. It wasn’t like he really needed an excuse, because no one else was even looking at him, but then again, there was never any harm in caution.

“You’re Y/N L/N, right?” Yukimiya said to you, his hand on your shoulder as you faced the camera, waiting for the director to adjust your stances. “It’s a pleasure. I’m surprised this is the first time we’re actually talking.”

“The pleasure is mine,” you said. “And yes, it’s a wonder we haven’t worked together before, given how frequently I’ve heard your name mentioned. I’m looking forward to it.”

Something about Yukimiya served to enhance everyone he was around, and so, instead of stealing the attention from you, he somehow managed to direct the spotlight so that it shone only on your placid face. You had been expecting the opposite, but you weren’t angry about it; in fact, you couldn’t have been more pleased. It was always the worst thing when your coworker was jostling you out of the way for a few extra seconds in front of the cameras, and you thought to yourself that you’d have to find some way of ensuring you were booked with him more often.

“Amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever been so quickly satisfied by a shoot!” the director said, clapping his hands together and nodding at you both. “Excellent work. I think we can wrap up for the day. I’ll see you two here at the same time tomorrow!”

“Wow,” Yukimiya said as everyone started disassembling the set. “I thought you said he was strict.”

You shrugged as you walked over to the dressing rooms. “I thought he was.”

“Well, we probably shouldn’t complain,” he said. “Between this and practice, my schedule is booked. I have no space to be ungrateful about a little extra time.”

“Very true,” you said. “It’s always nice when things like this end sooner than anticipated. Better than later, anyways.”

The first thing you took off were those excuses for shoes, kicking them under the door for good measure and shoving your feet into a pair of fluffy slippers, wiggling your toes with a sigh. Peeling off every layer you had squeezed into for the sake of the director’s creative vision, you curled up on the bench in only your underwear, sipping on water through a metal straw and staring at the wall, hugging your knees to your chest, lost in thinking about nothing.

Only when you grew cold did you stand, pulling on a sweatshirt three sizes too large and sweatpants that puddled at your shoes, shielding you from the world as you trudged out of the dressing room, wanting to rub your eyes but knowing that you would smear makeup all over the backs of your hands. You settled instead for playing with the thread you had taped to the handle of your water bottle for exactly such an occasion, twirling the loose ends of the meticulous knots in between your fingers idly.

“Ah — L/N!” Yukimiya waved at you as you made your way towards the exit. Unaccustomed to further camaraderie after the end of the workday, you had to fight to keep your expression neutral, and when you noticed the man from earlier was at Yukimiya’s side, the lollipop long gone, you had to fight even harder.

“Is something the matter?” you said.

“No, nothing at all,” he said. “I just figured we might as well walk to the parking garage together, since it’s late and all.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. The studio you were at had only one security guard in its employ, a man that inspired pity more than fear, with a few strands of hair glued into a desperate attempt at a combover and a shirt that was far too thin to be considered professional, so you hadn’t even considered asking for an escort, figuring you would take your chances. Still, the thought of walking alone wasn’t the most appealing, and while you wouldn’t have asked for it yourself, you were glad Yukimiya had offered his company nonetheless.

“Oh! Karasu, this is Y/N L/N. L/N, this is Tabito Karasu,” Yukimiya said as you reached the door and the other man — Karasu — used one black-gloved hand to open it.

“Is he your bodyguard or something? Thank you,” you said, nodding at Karasu for holding the door.

“He wishes,” Karasu said. His voice was rough and deep and sounded like he was perpetually in on some private joke, but you didn’t mind it, not in the slightest. “I’m his roommate — the one with a car, by the way. And a driver’s license. And the time to pick his sorry ass up.”

“What he means is that he offered to stop by on his way home to get me,” Yukimiya said.

“That’s very generous of you,” you said. “Especially considering you were there even before Yukimiya was.”

“Don’t you think? It’s fine, now he owes me one,” Karasu said, his eyes glimmering. “And I intend to collect, of course.”

“He never does anything out of the goodness of his heart,” Yukimiya said with a long-suffering sigh. “You better be careful around him, L/N. Whatever he gives you, he’ll expect the same in return.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, though of course you had no intentions of ever being around Karasu in any way that mattered.

“We play soccer for the Japanese team, you know,” Karasu said. “You should come to one of our games, L/N. I’m sure some of our teammates would be delighted by that. Right, Yuki?”

Yukimiya sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “If you’re talking about Otoya and Aiku, then yes, but that’s not necessarily a good thing.”

“Not for her, it isn’t,” Karasu said. “For them, sure it is. But I wasn’t talking about those two, anyways.”

“Pardon?” you said.

“Ignore him,” Yukimiya said. “I don’t really know what he’s going on about.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Karasu said, picking up before Yukimiya on the fact that your steps had stuttered to a stop. “L/N, was it?”

He offered you his hand. You took it and shook, arching a brow at the firmness of his grip, which was much more in line with a businessman than a soccer player. 

“Yes,” you said. “Karasu? It was nice to meet you as well.”

“Don’t worry,” Yukimiya said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll make my other roommate pick me up tomorrow.”

“Otoya?” Karasu said. “Good luck with that. He’ll be late to his own funeral, so don’t think you’re high on his priority list. The only time he comes early is—”

“Karasu,” Yukimiya interjected. “Don’t be crass.”

“Sure, sure,” he said. “See you around, L/N. Or maybe not.”

“See you,” you said, starting your car so that it wasn’t freezing when you got in, deciding it wouldn’t be polite to tack on a definitely not to the farewell and instead opting to stay silent.

“Bye, L/N,” Yukimiya said. “Until tomorrow.”

Although your apartment wasn’t large by any means, it wasn’t small, either, sitting at a comfortable medium that was paid for half by you and half by your brother, who was hardly ever home, anyways, but needed somewhere for his mail to be delivered. He was a free spirit, always traveling: for work, for fun, for women and wine, for anything his heart desired, which left you the entire space to yourself more often than not. People were jealous of you when they found out, but when you sat on the couch alone, a blanket pulled up around your shoulders and a bowl of salad held in between your knees, the television on only to ward away the silence that permeated the room, you wondered what they had to be jealous of.

The next day, you didn’t look for Karasu when you entered the studio, but you knew as you stepped in that he wasn’t there. There was something missing, the room a little brighter without him in the corner, waiting with an unmatched patience for Yukimiya to be done. Yukimiya must’ve made good on his threat, then, to call their other roommate to pick him up, although privately you wondered why he couldn’t just drive himself.

The shoot went even smoother the second day than it had the first, and it was a surprise the director didn’t fall to your feet and grovel at the speed with which you executed his vision. Yukimiya struck that perfect balance of workmanlike and personable, and you were content to play along with him, so all in all things moved with relative swiftness.

When you went to leave, you noticed that Yukimiya was standing by the door on his own, tapping his phone furiously. You were under no obligation to stop, but for some reason, you did, waiting awkwardly for a second before clearing your throat.

“Is everything alright?” you said. He startled, almost dropping his phone as he blinked at you.

“Yes! Yes, it’s fine, it’s just my roommate is a jerk, that’s all. Last night, he told me he was fine with picking me up, but now all of a sudden he’s busy,” he said with a scoff.

“Otoya, right?” you said. Yukimiya cocked his head.

“Yes, how’d you know?” he said.

“Karasu — your other roommate mentioned him yesterday,” you said, correcting yourself so that it didn’t seem like Karasu was someone you paid special attention to. Judging by Yukimiya’s expression, you didn’t think you had been entirely successful in the attempt, which was unlike you. You bit the tip of your tongue so that you didn’t say anything further, waiting for him to respond.

“Right,” he said.

“Why don’t you drive yourself?” you said, crossing your arms and standing beside him, facing the road as he was. 

“I can’t,” he said.

“You never learned?” you said. He shook his head, adjusting his glasses self-consciously.

“It’s not recommended I do,” he said. He didn’t elaborate further, but he didn’t have to; you recognized it wasn’t your place and hummed in acknowledgement.

“If you want, I don’t mind taking you,” you said. You didn’t know where Yukimiya lived — for all you knew, it was across the city entirely — but it didn’t hurt to extend your hand like that, especially because you had a sense that he wouldn’t even accept it.

“It’s alright,” Yukimiya said. “Karasu said he’s on his way, since last he checked, Otoya’s in the shower now, for some reason.”

“Oh,” you said. “That’s kind of him.”

“Kind?” Yukimiya said, and then to your surprise, he laughed. “I wish I knew as little about him as you do.”

“Is he a bad person?” you said.

“Not at all,” Yukimiya said. “He’s great. He’s one of my best friends, in fact; it’s just that kind and Karasu rarely if ever go together in the same sentence.”

“How can someone be your best friend if you don’t even think they’re kind?” you said, intrigued by the puzzle Yukimiya had presented you with. The way he spoke of Karasu, it was as if he were some willful spirit that occasionally deigned to lend his aid to those who could bring him some benefit, but the way the two of them treated one another didn’t seem anything like that.

“I don’t know,” Yukimiya said. “If you knew him better, I wouldn’t have to explain this. He’s a hard person to understand, and just when you think you’ve finally got it, he goes and complicates things further.”

“That sounds exhausting,” you said.

“That’s the strangest thing about it all,” Yukimiya said as a car pulled up in front of you both, the hazard lights turning on. “With him, it’s entirely natural.”

Karasu stepped out of the driver’s side, shutting it behind him and joining the two of you on the curb, grinning at Yukimiya in a way that almost felt mocking.

“Told you Otoya wasn’t to be trusted,” he said. “You’re paying for dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yukimiya said, tossing his bag at Karasu, who caught it without flinching. “Put this in for me.”

“Whatever you say,” Karasu said, opening the back door of the car and throwing the bag onto the floor before slamming it shut and patting the handle for good measure. “Is that everything, your royal highness?”

“Yes,” Yukimiya said. “I’m going to kill Otoya when we get back.”

“Hm,” Karasu said. “Violent.”

“He deserves it,” Yukimiya said. “Bye, L/N. Thanks for waiting with me.”

“It’s not an issue,” you said, especially because you hadn’t done it on purpose, and even if you had, it hadn’t been for him. “I’m glad everything worked out.”

You wanted to say something more, something to Karasu in particular, but you didn’t know what or how. It wasn’t like you knew him — not a little and not at all, as Yukimiya had pointed out, and indeed you had no reason to speak to him in the first place. He wasn’t anything but your coworker’s roommate, so what did he mean to you?

Yukimiya shut his door with a hurried apology about the cold, and then it was just you and Karasu on the curb, and you couldn’t tell why, but the way he looked at you made you think he could hear every thought which was racing through your mind. 

“Yukimiya’s right. It’s cold out,” he said. “You should go home now.”

“I’m just about to,” you said.

“Are you?” he said. 

“Why are you questioning that?” you said, surprisingly affronted, although he hadn’t said anything insulting. “Of course I am. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”

“I’m not questioning anything,” he said. “Drive safely.”

“Wait,” you said. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Would you prefer it if I am?” he said.

“I’d prefer it if you answered my questions instead of coming up with more of your own,” you said, which you thought would be met with shock — after all, it was a rare thing that you broke character and said anything that could be perceived as cutting — but was instead received with a snicker.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll be here tomorrow. Early, if that’s what you want.”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” you said. “Do what you’d like.”

“I think that I will,” he said, and then Yukimiya was rolling down the window, telling him to hurry up, damnit, so he left you behind without another word, the car’s engine purring as they drove away.

You must’ve looked like such a fool the next morning, the final of the shoot, your eyes immediately going to the corner where Karasu had been that first day. It was empty, and despite yourself, your shoulders slumped when you realized that he wasn’t there, which was enough for you to break out of that strange trance. Why had you even hoped in the first place? He had made no indication that he was going to come, and you were old enough to know that hoping and wishing were certain paths to disappointment.

“Do you want me to take you back tonight?” you asked Yukimiya, sitting in a chair beside him as you waited for the director to come. It was a clumsy and roundabout way of getting to what you actually wanted out of him, but the last thing you could do was tell him the truth. What would he say, if he knew why you were actually offering? What would he think of you then?

“Hm? No, it’s fine, Karasu’s already got it. He’s at the gym with Shidou — er, another teammate of ours — right now, but he’ll be done before we are, and the studio’s closer to the gym than our apartment is, so he told me it wouldn’t be any extra trouble,” he said, and you thought he must’ve added those extra details for the sole purpose of seeing what your response to them would be, but then you remembered that Yukimiya wasn’t that kind of person. He was just telling you as a way to fill the time, not to get one over you or anything like that.

“That’s good,” you said. “Convenient.”

“Yup,” Yukimiya said. “My agent told me we’d be doing individual photos today.”

“Huh?” you said. “Oh, right. Yes, I think that’s the case.”

“That’s a shame. I enjoyed working with you,” he said.

“Me, too,” you said, and unlike most times, you weren’t lying when you did. “I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, though. There’s not so many of us our age.”

“True,” he said. “It’s a given.”

“Exactly,” you said.

“Yukimiya! You’re up first!” the director shouted, entering as he always did — like a whirlwind, leaving papers scattered and assistants flustered in his wake. 

“That’s my cue,” Yukimiya said with a long-suffering sigh.

“Good luck,” you said, glad that it wasn’t your turn just yet. The shoes you were meant to wear sat innocently before you, about two feet away, and although it was impossible for inanimate objects to be snide, they were quite close to it, glaring at you with their bejeweled straps and their impossible tall heels, tittering between themselves at the thought of the cuts already forming on your ankles, the bandages you’d have to remove in order for those terrors to slide on without fuss.

You set your water bottle on the armrest of your chair, taking up the thread and crossing it over itself in the patterns you had been taught in elementary school. You didn’t have anyone to tie these bracelets around, and you couldn’t wear them yourself, for they’d be cut away almost immediately, but the repetitive motions soothed your mind, distracting you from the red soaking through your white socks.

“L/N!” the director screamed, even though you were sitting right there and could hear him perfectly fine. “Put your damn shoes on and get the hell up here!”

Without Yukimiya there to soften the blow, you were the direct target of all of his anger. Swallowing back every emotion you had ever felt and would ever feel, you bent over and began to rip the nude-colored band-aids, stained rusty at the edges, off. Balling them up and throwing them in the trash, you stood on aching soles and pulled the shoes on, one after another, clenching your teeth and taking off your sweater so that you could waltz over to where the cameras were trained.

“Took you long enough,” the director groused. 

“Yes, sir,” you said. “How should I stand?”

“Just put your hands there, and your one leg there,” the director said vaguely, waving his arms about before striking what must’ve been an approximation of the pose he wanted you to take. You did your best to copy it, and the cameras went off, your vision temporarily fleeing and then coming back in spots as the lights faded. “No!”

“No?” you said.

“That’s all wrong! It’s horrible, horrible — you’re not even trying to do what I asked!” he said. “Yukimiya could do it, so why can’t you? Just do this!”

He did the same thing again. You weren’t sure what else you could adjust, but you moved slightly, twisting your torso at a different angle and smiling without your teeth this time. He grunted and motioned for the cameras to go again, but after a few more photos, he groaned, dragging his face over his hands.

“This is horrendous! You look entirely stiff and posed. It’s like you're a mannequin!” he said.

“I don’t — I’m not — what should I fix?” you said, unable to stop nerves from creeping into your voice and jostling it about. As difficult as he was to work with, you knew that the director was a big name in the industry, and if he only had bad things to say about you, then your entire livelihood would be threatened.

“Ugh!” he said, stomping onto the set and grabbing your arm, wrenching it down so hard you were surprised it didn’t dislocate. You chewed on the frayed flesh of the inside of your cheek to keep from yelping, allowing yourself to be pliable as he dragged your leg forward into what he wanted from you. “It’s like you’re a completely different person today! Just disappointing.”

Whatever position he had coerced you into was nothing like the one he had wanted you to imitate, but you refrained from pointing that out, holding it in place while the photographers adjusted their lenses. It was uncomfortable and made the lace lining your collar dig into your throat even more, but at least that served as a reminder for you to be silent.

“That’s enough,” the director said, massaging his temples. “We’re not getting anything more out of you.”

“What?” you said, standing normally, tired of contorting yourself for the impossible-to-please man. “What do you mean?”

“You’re lifeless. I don’t know how you managed to fool me yesterday and the day before, but I see it now. Honestly, if it weren’t for the concerning accusations I’d face, I’d just dig up a grave and pay the families half the royalties. It’d be a cheaper and better performance than whatever you’re giving me,” he said.

“What?” you said again, shame pouring over you, cold in a way that was closer to heat, ringing in your ears and coating your tongue. You couldn’t think of another response, any other way to defend yourself. If he was saying it, then it really was the truth. You swallowed, about to bow your head and shuffle off of the set for good, but then, like a bird in your peripheral vision, you noticed someone standing in the corner.

It was Karasu, and he was muffling a laugh. When he noticed you were looking at him, he dropped his hand from in front of his mouth and jerked his head towards the director, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like get a load of this guy. Your eyes widened, and then you, too, were fighting back a giggle, because you were so tired of the entire charade and your feet hurt and you wanted to go home and sleep for a few hours but this director, this stupid fucking director, couldn’t make up his mind about what he wanted from you. And now your career was ruined and you’d go back to waiting tables and Karasu was standing there, which was ridiculous, because where had even come from? But, then again, did it matter? Because the most amazing thing of all was that he was laughing. The situation was horrible and he was laughing as if it was the most entertaining moment of his life.

“There!”

You cringed as the cameras went off in quick succession, but they were faster than you, and you knew for sure they had caught you before you had cowered away. The director stroked his chin, and then, to your surprise, clicked his tongue in approval.

“Well done,” he said. “That’s the kind of genuine appeal I was looking for. If you can bring more of that to the table, then anyone would be happy to have you.”

You frowned, his sudden switch in mood giving you whiplash. Only seconds earlier, he had been berating you, and now he was praising you? You couldn’t understand what had brought about the change, but you were at least quick enough to not question it. 

“Thank you,” you said. “I appreciate the advice. And the opportunity to work with you.”

“I’ll hire you again,” he said, which sounded as much like a threat as it did a promise. “We’ll bring it out of you. Now that I know what you’re capable of, I won’t rest until I’ve perfected it in the way only I can.”

The thought of being perfected by him, molded and shaped and honed, was the most unappealing you had had in a while. You could imagine him tugging your limbs out of their sockets, rearranging them at his leisure, slicing gashes into your skin so that his clothes and accessories sat better, smoother, without unappealing wrinkles or reflections marring their surfaces.

“Thank you,” you said once more. “It’s an honor.”

“Are you alright?” Yukimiya said when you wobbled over to where your shoes and clothes were strewn about. 

“I’m fine,” you said, but you weren’t looking at him. Your distracted eyes were following Karasu as he left the studio, your eyebrows knitting together as you tried to ascertain what the point of him even coming inside had been, if he was going to leave without you — without Yukimiya. 

He didn’t come for you, a voice in the back of your head, sounding eerily similar to the director’s, said. He came to pick up his roommate, just like he promised he would.

“I can’t believe he chose you as his favorite. Maybe you’ll be his muse for the next few years!” Yukimiya said. The director was known for picking one model to fixate on for an extended period of time. His every project revolved around them, and they were catapulted into unprecedented stardom under his guiding hand, staying there until their retirement. It was everyone’s dream, and you should’ve been happy at the prospect of being next in that line, but when you beamed at Yukimiya, it was fake, the muscles in your mouth straining at the unnatural position you were putting them into.

“Who knows?” you said. “I don’t want to rely on it. It’s not a guarantee.”

“Smart idea,” he said, scrunching up his face. “I’m sorry. I’m used to soccer more than all of this. Everyone’s very…full of themselves.”

“You’re not full of yourself,” you said, shutting the door of your dressing room behind you and calling through it as you changed, hoping to delay him even slightly.

“You’ve never seen me on the field,” he said. “There, everyone’s different. You have to be, if you want to live. Ego’s a form of survival out there.”

“Doesn’t sound much different than modeling,” you said.

“A little different,” he said. “People here are just vain. That’s not the same.”

You hadn’t ever gotten changed so quickly, but in record time, you were swinging your bag over your shoulder and rejoining Yukimiya, who seemed as surprised as you were that you had finished so quickly. After all, you had a bit of a reputation for…sulking? Brooding? You weren’t sure what word they were using for it nowadays, but regardless, your proclivity for sitting in your dressing room in silence was well-known, as much a part of your character as it was a habit. 

“You’re not wrong about that,” you said. “But vanity’s a necessary evil, I think. If you want to succeed.”

“Er, right,” he said, standing in place like he was unsure of how to react. “I suppose so.”

When you did not halt but instead kept moving towards the exit, he straightened and hurried after you. You weren’t going very fast, and his strides were so long that he caught up with you before you could even brace for the biting wind that rushed in as soon as you opened the door. The two of you went along in silence, Yukimiya obviously befuddled why you were still with him but too polite to say anything about it, and it was only when you reached the entrance to the parking garage, where a familiar car was waiting, that you allowed yourself to smile.

“Man, talk about an asshole,” Karasu said, stretching like a cat as he got out of the still-running sedan. “That director is a piece of work.”

“Karasu!” Yukimiya reprimanded, which got him nothing but a sly smile from the man in question. “He’s our boss. We can’t say stuff like that about him.”

“He’s your boss,” Karasu corrected. “So you can’t say stuff like that. I can say whatever I want.”

“You’re going to get me fired,” Yukimiya said. “It’s a good thing I have soccer to fall back on, or else I’d be in trouble.”

“Go sit in the car, then, if you want to stay blameless,” Karasu said.  

“I will! And you better not bother poor L/N. I don’t want her to have a bad opinion of all of us just because of you,” Yukimiya said, jabbing his finger at Karasu, who raised his hands in the air innocently.

Today, he wore a white windbreaker over a grey shirt, and because he was not wearing gloves, you could see that there were calluses on his palms, standing out pale at the seams of his fingers. You weren’t used to seeing calluses on anyone, not when the few people you met on a semi-regular basis took such diligent measures to prevent them, but now that you were faced with them sans demonization, you found their roughness was warm and friendly, not hideous.

“He was pretty bad,” you mumbled as soon as Yukimiya had shut himself away in the car. 

“Yuki, or the director?” Karasu said.

“Don’t be horrible,” you said. “You know who I’m talking about.”

“I can’t believe he compared you to a dead body,” Karasu said.

“That’s not the worst I’ve gotten,” you said. “It took me by surprise because things had been going so well until then, but he was relatively tame, all things considered.”

“Really?” Karasu said. 

“Yes,” you said, dropping your voice to a murmur in case anyone was around, not wanting to give yourself a reputation as a whiner. “Once, someone asked me if my mother was a fish, because there was no other explanation for how I was flopping around.”

“That’s rude,” he said.

“It was!” you said. No one had ever listened to you before, least of all with such a benign expression on their face, and you were so starved of it that you could not contain yourself any longer. “Especially because I was standing still, not flopping around or whatever. Honestly, I wanted to ask him if his mother was a fish, because you know what? There was no other explanation for how he smelled!”

“Horrid!” Karasu said, beaming at you. “You should’ve.”

“Oh, no, no, I couldn’t. I shouldn’t even have said it to you,” you said, shaking your head and pressing your hands over your mouth, unsure of any other method of stopping yourself that would be nearly as effective. 

“But you did,” he said, zipping up his jacket in a swift movement. “I’ll think of something about myself to tell you in return. Give me a day or two.”

“That’s not why I did that,” you protested. “And we don’t have a day or two, anyways, so you’ll have to do it now or never again.”

“Sure we do,” he said. “We live in the same city, don’t we? I bet our paths will cross. Where do you go grocery shopping?”

“Grocery shopping?” you said.

“Karasu! You’re low on gas!” Yukimiya said, rolling down his window. 

“I go to the place across from the park on South 18th Street. Every Thursday after practice,” Karasu said. “Meet all sorts of people there. Never know who I’m going to run into.”

You could picture exactly the store he was talking about; it wasn’t where you typically went, but sometimes, if you were running low on something hard to find, you’d walk the extra few blocks. It was much bigger than the one close to your apartment, after all, and suddenly you wondered if you had seen Karasu there before, if you had seen him ten or twenty times and just not noticed.

“When do you finish practice?” you said, right before he got into his car. 

“Lunchtime,” he said. “I’m hungry more often than not.”

“It’s not good to shop for food when you’re hungry,” you said.

“Then I’ll have to do something about it before I do,” he said. “Well, it depends. Only if I have good company.”

You didn’t realize until you were halfway home what he meant by that, and by then it was too late for you to change your mind — not that you would’ve. Not that you needed to. He wasn’t holding you to anything, even though you knew as well as he did that you would be there; still, ultimately it was your decision. Your choice. 

That was a strange characteristic of his, one that Yukimiya hadn’t mentioned. Karasu didn’t ask for things; he didn’t command them, either. He only made suggestions, nudging you along until you reached the destination that he wanted you to arrive at. You had never met a person quite so adept at it, at presenting choices and questions as disguises for inevitabilities, at guiding people’s thoughts so precisely. It would’ve been unsettling coming from anyone else, but from him, it was natural. It was how he operated. Who were you to chafe at it when that was simply who he was?

The grocery store was large, but they never changed their layout, so you knew where everything was familiarly and without checking the signs. You didn’t have anything to shop for, so you decided to wander the aisles, thinking that if something caught your eye, you’d buy it without further consideration.

You found yourself staring at a bag of oranges, a bright red 50% Off! sticker slapped right on the netted packaging. Swallowing, you reached for it, but before you could, someone snatched them away, holding them in the air teasingly.

“I thought you shouldn’t shop for food when you’re hungry,” Karasu said. “And might I add, what a coincidence it is, seeing you here!”

“I’m not hungry,” you said, taking the oranges back and holding them to your chest protectively. “And I wasn’t looking for you.”

“I didn’t say that you were,” he said. “I distinctly recall saying that it was a coincidence we even met, in fact. Anyways, maybe you’re not hungry, but I am, so I should be off. Meals to eat, shopping lists to plan…it’s a busy life I have.”

“Sounds mundane,” you said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “You’re right. That reminds me! Before I go, what is it that should I tell you?”

You couldn’t deny that that was the real reason for why you had come to the grocery store — what was he going to reveal? For as much as he knew about you, you knew frighteningly little about him, and now that you were faced with a chance to learn what kind of person he really was, you didn’t want to let it leave your grasp.

“Whatever you want,” you said. He plucked the oranges from your grasp again, and before you could complain, set them at the bottom of the small basket he held in his arms.

“How about this? I knew you were going to go for the oranges,” he said.

“How?” you said.

His eyes sparkled as he leaned closer to you, and you suddenly remembered Yukimiya’s warnings. Whatever you thought you knew about Karasu, it was likely only half or maybe a quarter the truth. Really, he was shifting and cunning, a fox and a crow, far from comprehension, not a danger but not kind, either.

“I’ll answer if you tell me something else about yourself,” he said.

“Why are you acting like I’m entering some kind of contract with a devil?” you said.

“I’m not a devil,” he said. “Just Karasu. My teammates think I’m a great guy, if the recommendation sets you at ease.”

“It sounds more like you’re trying to blackmail me,” you said. He shook his head.

“Couldn’t it be said that you’re doing the same? You’re asking questions about me and expecting that I answer when you have no intentions of reciprocating,” he said. 

You pouted, because when he put it like that, he wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t that you didn’t trust him — because you did. You trusted him more than you should���ve, considering how guarded you had learned to become.

“I have an older brother,” you said. “He’s overseas right now. I don’t think he’ll be back for a while.”

“I have an older sister,” Karasu said. “Maybe they know each other.”

“Probably don’t,” you said. “Also, you didn’t answer my question.”

“I guess I didn’t,” he said, reaching around you to take two boxes of cereal off of a shelf. “Try again.”

“My parents didn’t want me to be a model,” you said. “They thought I should be a teacher. I’m good at it. Children like me.”

“I was going to go into investment banking,” he said. “Or consulting. One of those such fields. Maybe I still will, but soccer is fine for now.”

This was a game for him, you realized. Like tennis, but better, and so, instead of being irritated, you decided you might as well indulge it. It had been so long, anyways, since the last time you had spoken to someone freely, without concern for what they might spread about you, whose ears they would whisper your secrets in just to get one or two steps ahead.

“I threw a dress at a designer’s face once,” you said. “He didn’t like the shade of lipstick I was wearing, even though he was the one that picked it. The only reason my reputation wasn’t ruined was because he ended up liking the way the lipstick turned up digitally and promised not to say anything about it if I allowed them to use my photos after all.”

Karasu laughed, opening the doors to the fridge and taking out milk, stacking it neatly in the basket. You weren’t sure when the two of you had begun shopping in earnest, but it seemed he had forgotten about his plans to eat lunch. 

“In high school, my teammate pissed me off, so I made sure to shove him around extra when we tried out for a nearby youth team. It made him look so inept that he didn’t make the cut,” he said, taking an abandoned cart and depositing his things in it, motioning for you to put your purse in as well.

“That’s mean!” you said, but it was hard to disguise the fact that you, too, were laughing. “You’re mean.”

“His fault. He should’ve played better, anyways,” Karasu said. “I had been helping his sorry ass out for too long. He would’ve been cut regardless. You could say I just…expedited the process.”

“I’m the only one in my family who still wishes my brother happy birthday,” you said. “He’s a disappointment in everyone else’s eyes, but he lets me live with him and pays his share of the bills, so how can I disown him?”

“Between the two of us, my sister is the perfect one, so I’m afraid I can’t relate. Vanilla or hazelnut?” he said without skipping a beat. Before you could even answer, he face-palmed. “Oh, wait, Otoya hates hazelnut. I’ll get that so he doesn’t mistake it for his own.”

“I used to be a waitress,” you said. “Before I was a model. It was a lot less glamorous of a career. I don’t think my feet ever recovered from it.”

“I’m sure those shoes that you were forced into for your last job didn’t help any,” he said. “They looked inhumane.”

“They were,” you said, your ankles panging at the reminder, still inflamed and angry as they were. “Though I think anyone would’ve suffered with them on. I doubt the designer had human anatomy in mind when making them; I haven’t bled like that in a while.”

“They made you bleed?” he said. You hummed.

“Yeah,” you said, seeing no point in lying. Who would he tell? Who would even believe him? “Fashion over function, right? It was only for a few photos. They’ll be healed so quickly I’ll forget I had them in the first place. Enough about me, though. Tell me something else about yourself.”

“I sprained my wrist playing soccer as a kid,” he said. “It was a long time ago, but even now, I can feel it when it rains.”

He still hadn’t answered your original question, and you didn’t think he would, not until you offered him something of equal or greater value. But what did you have like that? What aspect of your silly life held enough weight that it would make someone like Karasu, always so ready with his wit and his charm, willing to part with something he clearly deemed to be a secret?

“I’m lonely,” you said, turning away from him, pretending to be fascinated with comparing two different brands of yogurt, neither of which you would buy. “You’ll laugh, but I think this is the longest conversation I’ve had with someone outside of work since my brother last came home. It’s nice, surprisingly. Talking to you and all. I like it.”

Or maybe you just liked him. You couldn’t really separate the two. Either way, it remained that ever since you had met Karasu, you could not conceive of a time when you had not known him, a time when you had gone home to your empty apartment and watched your empty shows and eaten your empty salads and thought you were satisfied by it all. You doubted he knew he had this effect, and you certainly wouldn’t be the one to tell him — after all, he’d probably be frightened if he found out that you had, in such a short time, grown so attached to him and his games and his conduct.

“The oranges,” he said. “You tried to buy them the first time I saw you.”

“What?” you said. Now it was his turn to avert his eyes and yours to watch him in fascination, finding it far easier to stomach a secret than to spit it out.

“It was a long time ago, but it was definitely you,” he said. “It was a Thursday, and I was just coming back from practice; this grocery store is far from my apartment but close enough to the field that, when Otoya — he was sick, so he had skipped that day — texted me that we were out of bread, I decided I’d make the detour. I wasn’t planning on staying here long, but right when I was about to leave, I saw you. You only had a packet of instant noodles and a bag of oranges in your hands. They were on sale back then, too, but—”

“But I had to put them back,” you finished for him, remembering that day as well as he did, albeit not his role. “Because I didn’t have enough money to get them, even when they were 50% off.”

“Yes,” he said. “I left before you noticed me, but I always — I always wish I hadn’t. I kept making the trip here, doing my shopping every Thursday at the same time until it became ingrained in me like routine, and I told myself if I ever saw you again, I’d buy them for you.”

“I can buy my own oranges now,” you said.

“I know,” he said. “That wasn’t the only reason I came back each week.”

“Why else?” you said.

“Well,” he said. “I can’t just tell you everything in one go like that, can I?”

You scoffed. “You can.”

“But I won’t,” he said.

“But you won’t,” you said with a sigh. “Anyways. So you knew me even before we met?”

“I knew of you,” he corrected you. “Though not as a model. Just as an absurdly beautiful girl I saw in a supermarket once and thought about occasionally.”

“So it was a coincidence that you happened to be at that shoot?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“When Yukimiya told us about the girl he’d be working with, Otoya looked you up,” he said. “And despite how long it had been since you last crossed my mind as well as how much longer it had been since the only time I saw you in the flesh, I recognized you immediately.”

“You have a good memory,” you said.

“So I’ve been told,” he said. “I didn’t go with any strange intentions, if you’re wondering. I only wanted to know what kind of person you actually were.”

He wasn’t a typical admirer, taken with your celebrity or your status. He was curious, not about Y/N L/N the model, but you, the girl he nearly met in a grocery store so long ago it was all but inconsequential. You wondered what it said about you that instead of being wary, you only felt all the more inclined to reveal yourself to him. You wondered if this was some lack of self-preservation, as your brother would declare it, or if this was an innate knowledge, an instinctual understanding that the man before you was different.

Maybe he was or maybe he wasn’t. You didn’t know, and maybe, on some level, you didn’t care. Taking his hand, you set it on the bag of oranges, placing your own atop it firmly, your thumb tracing his scratched knuckles.

“Buy them for me,” you said. “And I’ll tell you who I am, plainly and without fuss.”

“Is that what you consider a good deal?” he said. “I’d say you’re a bit more valuable than a discount bag of oranges.”

“Do you think so?” you said. “Fine, then. The oranges, and a pack of instant noodles.”

“Closer,” he said. “But I’m a fair person. I can’t accept.”

“You,” you said, all in a rush. “The oranges, the noodles, and you. That’s my final offer. I’ll give you everything if you give me that much.”

He didn’t even pretend to consider it. You thought that it must’ve been what he was waiting for all along, what he had been, in that way of his, leading you towards.

“You’re a tough bargainer,” he said.

“So you agree to it?” you said.

“Sure,” he said, and when he noticed your face falling at the noncommittal nature of his acceptance, he laughed. “Yes. Yes, yes, I agree. The oranges, the noodles, and me; you can have all three as you please.”

And it was odd, but just for a moment, the reprieve lasting only for as long as his breathy chuckle, your feet ceased to ache.

[velvetdolor]

♰𖣐♰ 𝔇𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩’𝔰 ℭ𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥. | ii.

[ chapter ii. death, come swift and kind.]

pairings: exorcist!hongjoong x psychic! reader (some ot8 x reader but heavily focused on hongjoong) ot8 x reader

genres: religious horror, supernatural-fantasy, suggestive, SMUT*. (18+) stupid-yet-gifted friend group trope lol

summary: “the order” is a secret organization of exorcists blessed with special abilities dedicated to expelling higher class demons—located in a ancient crypt hidden beneath the vatican. when an exceptionally gifted child is followed by prophetic omens and falls into possession of an unclassified s-class demon—kim hongjoong, considered one of the greatest exorcists of the 21st century, is dispatched under the mysterious order of convincing an enigmatic psychic hiding away in a metropolis to accompany he and his team in what might be their most daunting exorcism yet.

series warnings: strong language, religious allegories, lots of talk about religious trauma (may be sacrilegious in nature, so if you aren’t comfortable with that please keep that in mind before reading!) exorcisms, possession, sacrificial rituals, alluded mentions of ableism (specifically regarding blindness, as one of the main characters discusses his experiences as a blind man/his background and talks about the process of losing his sight in detail), light mentions of alcohol, suggestive content, horror, angst, child possession, intense imagery, hallucinations, light amount of self-inflicted wounds, violence, blood, and gore. additional warnings will be provided for each chapter. (story is marked as 18+ due to the descriptive elements of horror and suggestive scenes.) Smut warnings will be chapter specific. wc: 13.1k

series spotify playlist, pinterest board, and character/setting sheet links are located on my masterlist here. (Character sheets have a lot of information that we'll eventually dive into throughout the series but will help readers understand the dynamics more and have a little more backstory until then.) taglist: @cypherluv (comment or let me know if you'd like to be added!)

comment, like, and reblog! i like getting feedback or just knowing the someone’s reading this :) lol

chapter warnings: emotions (lol), lots of information dumps, blood, detailed death and gore, overwhelming and confusing imageries, conversations regarding grief , suggestive... stuff that have a lot of religious undertones, and imagery. ;)

currently unedited 05/05/2025

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[chapter ii. death, come swift and kind.]

Mingi unties the sash binding his cassock and throws it onto the floor in frustration, rushing to pull the soiled robe off and revealing a simple white button-up. You can hear him mumbling something to himself, but the throbbing in your head tells you it’s nothing you need to know. What you need is sleep—and you don’t even have a door to inscribe another sigil onto if—God forbid (haha, he doesn’t care!)—another decrepit demon were to skitter through your door.

Yunho took on the task of sweeping the floor as Hongjoong heaved the remains of your broken door into another corner of your room until tomorrow morning, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to worry about doing either of those things after the night you’ve had. Yeosang speaks up bravely, despite the dark eyes that naturally pin themselves onto him—it wasn’t personal, but it’s been a rough night, and they were a hair-trigger away from Armageddon. Quite literally, actually. “So, what do we do now? As much as I’d want to sit and simmer because tonight has positively fucked me up, there’s a child we have to kidnap after finding a way to exorcise a nasty demon from him.” Yeosang massages the back of his neck and tilts his head left to right, groaning.

Jongho dryly answers, “Well, we know we plan on dying.” San snorted before quickly slapping a palm over his lips when he felt Yeosang’s energy shift into something a little more irate. “Oh, that’s a nice one, jackass—” he says bitingly before reaching out to try and grab Jongho as the young man falls backward laughing. A few lips quirk up at the sounds of a refreshingly normal interaction, but a few remain immobile. Wooyoung is perched near a floor-to-ceiling window, staring outward until he turns to ask you for a cigarette. You toss him the box because he probably needs it more than you, and watch in amazement as he lights one with the tip of his index finger, a small flame flickering up before disappearing like smoke. Vanishing as quickly as it came, and he sucks in a breath, holding it for a couple of seconds before releasing it.

“So that’s what you can do.” He scoffs a bit before replying, “Yeah—just wish it were more helpful. Can’t use my ability half the time because it’s more likely to kill someone than save ‘em.” Hongjoong softly tilts his head toward Wooyoung’s direction, not quite looking at him as he stares forward at the wall, clearly pondering on his own. “Give it time, Woo. You’ve had the least amount of it in comparison to the rest of us.”

The bitterness doesn’t leave Wooyoung’s eyes. “It’s been twelve years, Joong. How much more fucking time do we think we’ve got? There’s a death march we’ve gotta get to, and it’s more likely that I’d kill one of you trying to help than not.”

Hongjoong finally moves his eyes to gaze at Wooyoung from his peripheral. “Give. It. Time.” The man in question stiffens for a moment, wanting to send off another sassy rebuttal his way, but the air seems to shift this time when Hongjoong speaks. He leaves no room for argument.

Seonghwa jolts from his seat and storms out of the apartment, pushing out the words, “I need some air,” and the makeshift cover (an extra curtain you’d packed away in a closet and pinned against the doorframe) sways as he lifts the cloth to duck under it.

God, you’re so fucking tired. Hongjoong notes your haggard appearance and rises from his seat. “Gentlemen, should we get going?”

Wooyoung’s ancestor pipes up again, “Tell them to stay the night here.” You whip your head toward her, mildly exclaiming, “No! Absolutely not.”

The burgundy-haired man peers at you curiously, the multiple piercings on his ears clinking together, making that strangely enamoring sound again. “No?” He raises a pronounced brow at what sounds a lot like you don’t want to be left alone.

“No—not no. No, wait, that’s not what I’m—” You’re bubbling over your words, on the verge of crashing out because today has been the most revealing series of human interactions you’ve ever had, and you’re sure it’s physically aged you. Sighing, you take a breath and continue, “I was told to tell you to stay.” Begrudgingly delivering the request, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned from your ability—it’s that you shouldn’t ignore helpful advice.

Mingi pipes up, “Oh, you mentioned earlier that you talk to spirits regularly, right? What do they even look like?” He scratches at the stubble pricking his face, grimacing at the texture.

Pondering for a moment, your words leave slowly. “It... depends. If a soul remains on Earth, it’s typically because they have a lot of lingering attachments. The thing is, a soul isn’t made to be eternal. It inherently yearns to return to the source beyond our realm where it came from. And if a spirit doesn’t have a strong grip on the attachments it’s remained for, they can begin to forget everything. Once they forget what they looked like and who they were, they take the form of an apparition. If not, they look however they remember themselves to be.” Some spirits turn to look at the apparitions present in the room, a small gloom filling the air in sympathy.

Mingi perks his lips curiously. “Do they just follow you around all of the time?” A small laugh leaves you, and he notices you look a little more your age when you do. “They come and go. Such is the way of a spirit. However, I’m one of the few living they can speak to, and they come often.”

Hongjoong slinks off, the curtain swaying behind him as it did earlier, and you assume he’s off to find Seonghwa. Yunho’s smile is seraphic on his face and he asks, “Is there a reason we have to stay? As hospitable as you may be, Strega, I’m unsure if you have enough blankets and patience for a galley of rambunctious boys. Or enough food,” he punctuates.

You tilt your head up to gaze at the woman who requested for them to stay, questioningly.

There’s a glimmer in her eyes, a light that carries the energy of a warm summer day. You see San shift from the corner of your eye as he unconsciously smiles at the radiating light he sensed from where she stood. “I just want to see my boy for a little bit longer.” She hesitates for a moment and ducks her head to gaze at Wooyoung. “Strega, am I allowed to talk to him?”

You feel conflicted. On one hand, you have no issue translating messages for the woman and her exorcist; on the other, you’re unsure if he’s ready for that conversation in the emotionally volatile state he’s in right now. Your eyebrows concave toward each other. “I don’t know if he’s ready right now—” you say, accidentally flitting your eyes to Wooyoung’s figure as you reply.

He stiffens, an unreadable emotion decorating his body before asking, “Who’s not ready?” Shifting uncomfortably, you drop your head and bite lightly at your index fingernail.

“You.”

Wooyoung instantly strides to you with erratic steps before kneeling in front of you, grasping your hands and pulling them toward his chest in a desperate act of pleading. His eyes are wide as he urgently whispers, “Strega, who’s here in this room? Please.” Almost in panic—desperately grasping at straws.

Wooyoung’s mother softly places a hand on your shoulder, cupping the side of her mouth as she leans in to whisper in the shell of your ear. “Mama’s here, Woo.” It’s as kind as wind chimes, twinkling away from her mouth—so full of love that you imagine only a mother might give.

You shift to softly lean forward, the energy of his mother encouraging you to hold him close in her place. Your eyes steadily meet his, not blinking for a moment. “Mama’s here, Woo,” you say, with your best effort at mimicking the cadence of her voice.

His eyes shatter in a moment’s notice, scrambling closer to you. The noise that leaves his throat as he calls out “Mama?” is a broken crescendo of notes—the man in front of you suddenly carrying the voice of a lonely and scared boy. He weeps tears from his throat like a heart-wrenching, shaking vibrato—trying to squeeze out the grief from the air he’s breathing. His breath begins to stutter as his chest heaves in bereaved wonder.

His mother still maintains her tranquil expression. She simply smiles at his figure and inches a hand forward, attempting to brush a strand of his hair away from his eyes. It’s a clear act of wishful muscle memory, and you see a tendril of emotion leak from her graceful gaze.

You reach forward to move the strand as an act of sympathy, and Wooyoung seems to spill every question he can think of in one breath: “Mom, what are you doing here? I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left you alone that day—” and he breaks again, her presence eroding him.

A small swish echoes through the room and you momentarily break out of the adrenaline to see Hongjoong and Seonghwa stepping into the room, taking in the alarming scene before them. Confusion decorates Seonghwa’s face as his eyes drift around the room, asking a silent question. Hongjoong merely watches you with that unnerving look—the one that seems to dissect each layer and action of yours. It’s unnerving in ways you’ve never felt so exposed before. An enigmatic string seems to pull at you, and in your discomfort, you feel an aching desire to continue staring at him in defiance, as if to say, Whatever you’re thinking, Exorcist—you’re wrong.

Wooyoung pulls your attention back with a tug at your hands.

“Please, please ask her, Strega. Where has she been—is she okay? Why is she still here? Where’s Grandpa? Pops? Aunt Lola and Grandma? What about my little sister?”

His mother only shakes her head and smiles gently. Your words fall in step with hers as you pause in increments to listen for more. “She says she’s always been here—”

“—No! Strega, tell her it’s my fault. Everything’s my fault.” But you interrupt him to deliver the rest of her words.

“Wooyoung, it had to happen.”

The tips of his fingers grow hotter, and you hiss slightly as Wooyoung doesn’t release his grip, not registering that his gift is at risk of going rampant.

“No, it didn’t—”

With a haunting, nearly reverent expression, she says, “It had to happen, Woo. There are greater things at work, my boy. I can say nothing else nor provide any more details to you—you’re not meant to know now.”

Letting the words melt out of your mouth, you drop them into his lap. You see the unshaking resolve in her eyes, and a part of you wonders if that’s what Wooyoung’s very own eyes might look like when not clouded by rage. For whatever reason, she believes in her words completely.

She continues, “Just know that they are safe, even if I cannot let you know where they are—and that I am always here with you.”

His sacrilegious rage corrupts his devastated expression. “Why did it need to happen?! Why did I have to lose everything—what, was it so I’d become an exorcist? Or because I was destined to burn everything and hurt everyone every time I tried to do something good—to help? Mama, what’s so great about this fucking world? I don’t have anything left to save.”

“You know that’s not true, stubborn boy. And if you don’t know just yet—you will come to see that families aren’t only bound by blood. The men around you are people you already want to protect in your heart, Woo.”

You continue to endure his hold, despite the burning. Hongjoong rises to rip away Wooyoung’s grip. “That’s enough, Wooyoung.”

Waking from his frantic daze, he stares at the heat bubble beginning to form on your hands with intense self-loathing, whispering coldly, “See? This is all I know how to do.”

Yeosang grabs at Wooyoung’s wrist. “Young, breathe. Everything’s okay.”

A tangible moment of silence permeates the air so thick you feel you could almost hold it. Seconds pass with Yeosang piercing Wooyoung with his searching gaze. When he makes a silent conclusion, he reaches out to grab him with a leveling, grounding strength—as if trying to tether his brother, bound to him by oath and not blood.

Yeosang feels the body he’s cradling begin to shake as sobs rack through Wooyoung. He wraps his arms around the upper part of his best friend’s back, near his shoulder blades, pounding his fist gently there twice. “Everything’s okay, Young. I promise,” he says, continuing to maintain his hold.

At the sight, a small tugging teethes at your heart, and you catch a discernible loneliness within you. Years of solitude painted your existence, given that you were deliberately isolated since youth. Would you have been able to have something like that too? Someone to hold you while you were aching and pulsing with an inconceivable amount of pain? They couldn’t have let one person know you existed?

You tug your sleeves back down as you gaze at the loneliness of the scarring on your skin. Like anyone else, you also wanted a family—at least at one point you did—but thought it useless to ruminate on it and tried your best not to look that particular desire in the eye.

Wooyoung pulls away from Yeosang’s grip after he’d calmed down a considerable amount, taking a deep breath. “Strega, I’m sorry for that.”

Shaking your head passively, you reply, “It’s nothing, really. I can barely register something like that anymore, see?” You attempt to lighten his burden by lifting a grotesque and scarred palm to show him, but grimace when you realize it would have the opposite effect. Jongho snorts from behind you, and you furrow your eyebrows at him.

Sigh.

You’re not used to human interaction and prefer talking to dead people. You doubt that’ll ever change.

Wooyoung’s face falls a little, and you almost laugh at his stupidly innocent and guilty expression. The guy just spoke to his dead mom—who died and was sacrificed so that her son could literally house a demon. Walking away with a small burn meant it was your lucky day.

“Is she still here?” he softly asks.

“She’s not here, but she’s around.” You shake your head lightly, wisps of hair falling onto your cheeks that you push away with the side of your hand.

“Okay.” And he says nothing else for a moment.

“Thank you. Truly.” He eyes you with a new sense of gratitude, and his gaze levels into one of respect. “I’m indebted to you, Y/N.”

You startle a bit, eyes widening at the sound of your name falling from his lips, and it almost feels like the first time you’ve heard it from someone else’s mouth. It might’ve been. All you’d known were the various pseudonyms thrown around by the clergy. When was the last time you heard your name—have you, yourself, forgotten it? “You know my name?” your voice feels small.

“I assumed it was yours but didn’t know for sure. I had no clue when I came here that it was you, but I heard it in passing by accident when I walked into a council meeting before they realized I was there. I simply recall hearing your name and the words ‘divine host,’ but I wasn’t able to hear anything else since they’d taken notice of me. It stuck with me years ago for some reason—probably because the term ‘divine host’ wasn’t something I was familiar with. Kind of just put two and two together.” He rubs the back of his neck with his right hand.

You’re unsure of what to say. The sound of your own name felt foreign to you and you only reply, “Oh, okay,” equal parts limp and dumb. Hongjoong side-eyes you, amusedly uttering your name and laughing lightly at seeing you bristle at the sound. He’ll probably make a habit of doing that.

Groaning, you plop onto a wooden chair that does little to relax your body—the cold and probably ancient wood prods into your ass hard enough for you to close your eyes in a small expression of pain. “Ow,” as the sound shakily leaves you, you catch a few eyes on you, realizing you weren’t as cool as you’d hoped to be.

‘Fuck my life, man,’ you helplessly think to yourself. Why was this the plot you were born into?

Yunho claps his hands. “Aaaaaand I think that’s a wrap. If we do any more today, I’m going to try and die by tomorrow.” He says it contrastingly jolly. Still maintaining a bright smile, he turns to you before saying, “You think you’ll survive the night, Strega?” eyeing the entrance of your apartment where the curtain you pinned desolately swayed, and you could’ve sworn you heard a comical breeze wafting in right at that moment.

“...I’ll make do,” you reply dryly.

You see Mingi pick up his cassock cautiously with two fingers and morose disgust, eyeing it sadly. “Anybody got a jacket I can borrow?” The priests all stare dumbly at each other, still donning their own cassocks and nothing else. By “anybody,” he meant you. Rubbing at the sides of your temples, you nod your head toward the direction of your bedroom before laboriously saying, “Follow me.”

A distant “Holy shit!” echoes back to the living room from down the hallway of the vast apartment, where Mingi reemerges shrugging on a distressed and smooth collared leather jacket. He turns mid-conversation with you and tells the boys with wide eyes, “It’s like Howl’s Moving Castle in there!” You see a couple of the boys perk up, moving to go and see for themselves. Seonghwa’s face scrunches up in disgust, hating everything about whimsical maximalism.

Before they can make it out of the living room, you hold a palm up. “HALT. I’m so fucking tired, please leave.” At that, Hongjoong lets out a loud laugh, boyishly curling his arms around his waist in a way that almost makes him appear fairy-like.

“How about this—come–” He pulls a wrinkled receipt paper out of a pocket in his robe, eyes darting around the room in search of a pen. A small ‘aha!’ leaves him as he finds one lying diagonally on a desk to his far right and scribbles something onto the plasticky parchment. “—to this address tomorrow at two. It’s our dormitory. We’ll talk more about… planning how to move forward. There’s a chance we can pay a visit to the boy all together.” He hands it over to you as your eyes flick around to read the address.

Seonghwa groans, “God, please don’t call it a dormitory—” squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. You can tell it isn’t the first time he’s said this.

“But that’s what it is,” Jongho pipes back.

“I’m twenty-nine, for Christ’s sake. I refuse to call where I live a dormitory.” Sneering, he flips his head toward Jongho, arms crossing over his chest as a few long locks of hair lick at his face, kissing his lashes before he blows them away.

“You can call it anything. A shelter, a bougie shack, a pretentious abode, an illusion of living amongst splendor and the bourgeois—for all I care! At the end of the day, you still live with all dudes and sleep on a bunk bed. At your bright and oh-so-grown age of twenty-nine. It’s the same thing.” You proceed to see someone attempt to choke Jongho for the second time today.

Turning back to Hongjoong, ignoring the rest of their squabbling, you ask, “So I just show up and walk in?”

His eyes momentarily brighten in realization before he reaches back to unclasp an ornate rosary from his neck. As he maneuvers the accessory around, you catch a glimpse of the same choker from earlier before it disappears under his cassock once again. The necklace he takes off is a bit different from other rosaries you’ve seen worn around the clergy—with a medium-thick metal chain accompanied by small metallic balls and heavy pearls. It looks worn and therefore, important.

Hongjoong steps toward you as it hangs from both of his hands and gazes into your eyes, asking silently for permission to touch you.

You give an imperceptible nod of agreement and are greeted by the cold tips of his fingers grazing the thin skin of your neck as he brushes the strands of your hair draping onto his path. Hongjoong keeps his dark gaze on you as he clasps the rosary around your neck and slowly drops his arms from their previous place to hover just above your chest. Delicately reaching a single finger to lift it from where it hangs on your skin, while maintaining eye contact with you, he grabs its crucifix with his right hand and leans down to meet it halfway—pressing a chaste kiss onto its bodice.

“Tomorrow, when you arrive at the dormitory—show them this and they’ll know to let you in.” A peculiar smile dresses itself on his skin, and small goosebumps scatter the area he briefly touched. Sensitive.

You tilt your head curiously. “What did the kiss do?” Wondering if it had something to do with his ability that still remained unknown to you. Kissing, seducing, mysterious brooding, and being sexily calculating—these attributes and concepts seem to fit what you’ve observed in Hongjoong, and you fleetingly think that you might be onto something in regard to deciphering his gifts. A small excitement blooms inside of you, loving whenever you find things out on your own.

Hongjoong’s lips quirk a minuscule amount, a covert expression dancing in his eyes as his bangs obscure the lining of his lashes, and he turns to leave. The boys trail behind him, yawning.

“I simply gave my blessing to you, Strega,” he says melodically, sauntering away. Pulling the fabric up to duck under its sheerness without so much as giving a glance back.

You blink owlishly before shaking your head, not knowing if you’re going to enjoy working with a complicated man who enjoyed pretending to be simple.

♰𖣐♰

You stand before an outrageously grand building. Grandiose arched windows decorate an extensive and classical structure made of brick, embraced by moss overgrowth. Vines trickle throughout the entirety of the building; the stained glass carries the paintings of idyllic figures—some cherubic and others weeping. The early autumn air kisses your nose, and you tuck your trench coat over your chest tightly to trap the warmth in. Leaves of various shades—gold, carmine, and chocolate milk—twist, rise, and fall against a vast field of drying foliage. Some patches of green remain, waiting for the completion of the change in the season.

The heels of your boots click against the red pathway that leads up to a large double-doored entrance. The doors themselves are ornate, curved at the very top, and the handles curl into the heavy dark brown mahogany. Knocking twice and receiving no answer, you slowly pull at one of the doors with both hands, the squeak of your glove the only sound accompanying you. Many spirits did not follow you to where you were going—it was too close to The Order for comfort, and with everything going on, it spelled nasty business. Some curious stragglers hide behind trees a good distance away, on the lookout for any signs of trouble—for themselves more than anything. You roll your eyes at this, more than sure that they were the neighborhood watch in the days of their living.

A tiny man sits at what looks to be a help desk, borishly thumbing through a book and barely raising his head to greet you.

“Yes?” His voice is frighteningly deep for such a miniature frame. Stopping yourself from jumping in surprise so as not to be rude, you clear your throat, proceeding to pull out Hongjoong’s necklace and holding it out toward him like it were an amulet trying to expel a demon at a moment’s notice. His eyes still for a moment as he eyes you peculiarly, confused.

“Ah, yes. Of course, come right this way.” As you follow his trail, you hear him whisper to himself under his breath, “Didn’t know he liked women,” before humming a “Huh, interesting,” in finality.

An intercepting thought arrives, and you scramble to cover his presence, not wanting to kill the tiny man by accident—and Raziel greets you.

‘Not a bad building,’ he quips.

“Why are you even awake?” you whisper through your teeth.

‘Ever thought about why I’m always asleep? You don’t leave the apartment, and all you do is read the palms of women who only date ugly men. Of course I’d rather sleep. I might even prefer to die.’

“Oh, spare me your dramatics.”

The man leading you turns toward you with an, “Oh, did you say something?” and you only smile stiffly—much too big to look sincere.

“Oh—nothing at all,” you trail a laugh. He merely nods before turning and leading you up seemingly endless flights of stairs.

“Genuinely, Raziel—why are you awake? Is there something strange here?” You continue to prod at him, a bit concerned.

‘No, I’ve just never seen this place. It’s interesting and quite pretty—I prefer it over that peeling, undecorated apartment of yours,’ he says in a light tone, slightly decorated with wonder. A part of you is surprised at his covert joy of seeing a dormitory for the first time, but then you’re reminded of how Raziel also shared your perspective of loneliness during his time within you. A part of you fleetingly wonders if he regrets choosing you as his host to interact with the world unknown to him. The concept of a home or shared living space seems to have piqued his interest.

Raziel marvels at the idea of living amongst people and speaking to them.

“Nothing spells out ‘I’m in hiding!’ more than living in a mansion alone, Raziel,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm as you stare at a wall with a bland expression.

‘All I’ve seen of the world thus far with you are the walls of that apartment and the wretched chambers of The Order. I want to see much more—it’s in my nature as the Angel of Mysteries.’

You feel apologetic at his honesty, relayed without his usual biting tone. It’s not that Raziel doesn’t understand—but it’s in his nature to search for knowledge and new experiences if he doesn’t know something, not evade it because of the discomfort it causes.

“Just... try not to do too much and kill someone with your presence, please.”

Raziel gives no reply, and you bite your bottom lip in slight concern, knowing what that means.

‘No promises~’

Great Scott, why was this your plot?

Huffing and realizing how out of shape you are, the tiny man stills and gestures down the hallway with his right arm, keeping his left tucked elegantly against his midriff.

“Father Hongjoong’s residence is the last room to the left.”

Nodding and swiftly thanking him, you make your way down the hall and meet Yunho’s eyes just as you turn left. He stands in the hall just outside Hongjoong’s room alongside San, and quickly shakes his head at you in alarm. San also joins, having sensed your energy earlier but was unable to say anything in his position.

“—Father Hongjoong, I trust that all is going well with integrating the boy?” Your eyes widen in recognition. It was one of the few voices you were allowed to hear for most of your life—the distinct voice of a High Priest, accentuating and prolonging his words with a faint trace of superiority and grace.

You stiffen immediately, not sure what to do or where to go, only concluding that no one can find out that you’re here and in contact with the Exorcists. Those were two big no-no’s sandwiched together.

A massive no-no sandwich.

And you shouldn’t bite off more than you can chew.

“All is well, Father. I’m sure he’ll be excited to return with us. We’re monitoring his behavior around the clock, and it seems that whatever is within him only rises at the midnight hour,” Hongjoong smoothly replies, tone light and liquid.

“Hm. Do keep me updated. Come visit us at The Order soon, and we can discuss more about moving forward,” the older man says, clearing his throat.

Hongjoong waits a moment before opening his mouth, preparing to reply.

It’s almost comical how Yunho smiles past the door and begins coughing to excuse himself for water, forming a large ‘X’ with his arms repeatedly to make it appear as if it were blinking in alarm, while making his way toward you. With a large hand, he swivels your body and pushes you to start walking toward the other side of the hallway when he hears San squeak lightly.

Hongjoong’s attempt at speaking goes unnoticed by the High Priest as he slowly strides out the door.

“Well, I’ve got to get going—” Yours, San’s, and Yunho’s heads whip toward each other in fear. There was no way you could run away without him noticing you or the sound of your footsteps.

Before you even realize it, you feel Raziel’s presence emerge slightly.

Eyes widening in panic, you breathe out a quiet shout into the air. “Raziel, no no no no no—don’t you dare!” You fumble and reach a hand out toward the other side of the hall in alarm.

He merely raises himself a minuscule amount, almost teasingly, and you feel the mischievous high pulsing through his body as he pushes against your protective shield just slightly—dealing the necessary damage. Immediately, the High Priest plinks! stiff on the floor, passing out from shock, and the boys all fall, collectively groaning.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, not again,” Yunho yells out exasperatedly.

Your back is pressed against the wall in absolute mortification, breathing heavily as you hear Raziel say, ‘It had to be done,’ and you can practically feel him smile and shrug.

Five minutes later, you’re helping Hongjoong drag the High Priest’s body down to the other side of the hallway, farthest from the rooms they all occupy. You lift the man’s head as Hongjoong tries to balance the weight of his legs, huffing slightly yet again, and Hongjoong takes note of it.

“Don’t get to do much outside of the house often, huh?” he chides, clearly talking about your lackluster stamina, and you almost drop the priest in favor of smacking him. Gasping, you both heave and drop him onto the bed before swiftly leaving the room. Hongjoong limps a little on his way out before heavily breathing out, “Poor old man. He’s too old for this line of work. Did’ya see how fast he was out? Like a goddamn light, I’ll tell ya.”

“You told me to come at two, so why the hell is he here?” you bellow, and Hongjoong winces a bit.

“Surprise visit, I suppose? Had to make sure their thinly veiled heinous plans were still in place,” he says jokingly, despite the entirety of the statement being true.

“I assume you all have to continue to play henchmen, minions, or whatever you’d like to call it—as we plan this?” You ask the reciprocal question, raising your brow.

“Yes, most of us will have to play whatever we’d like to call it, Strega,” he says, stretching his words—simultaneously soft and dry—and makes his way down the hall before grabbing your wrist lightly to pull you into his room. Yunho leans his tall frame against a simple and worn wooden desk, as San sits at a small reading nook tucked against Hongjoong’s window, waiting. The Aegean blue of his eyes darts at the sound and feeling of your familiar energies, causing him to smile softly.

Yunho speaks first, folding his hands together. “The rest are coming back from the dining hall soon.”

On cue, a trail of boys groggily walks into the room, absolutely gaunt. You can tell that most of them had barely woken up. Mingi looks around cautiously at seeing your figure before asking, “Where is High Priest Victor?”

Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose as he tiredly explains what just happened. Jongho immediately blubbers with laughter, joining Yeosang’s electric cackle.

“I thought I felt something, but thankfully it was brief and eight floors away from us.”

San, to your surprise, grumbles, “Lucky you.”

Seonghwa simply sighs and steps out of the room, lowly stating, “I’ll take care of it,” before striding away to the other side of the hall while Hongjoong sends him a small smile of gratitude.

As everyone gets situated at various areas of the room, you register Wooyoung planting himself next to San before whispering something cheekily, though you can’t hear what. San barks a laugh and slaps a palm to stifle it once again. You note that it’s a habit of his to do so. Wooyoung also seems to be in better shape—almost passive in his gait—but the dark circles beneath his eyes tell you that last night and this morning were still unforgiving to the man. Everyone else seems a bit worse for wear but shrugs it off to try and be proactive about it instead of brewing in the cesspool of their unending sorrows.

Hongjoong turns, addressing the entirety of the room as they shift their focus to their leader.

“There are a few details I have to relay to you, Strega, now that I have the chance to. Starting today, I will consider you an extension of the team, and though I don’t expect it to be immediate—you must learn to trust us and our abilities.” He sits on the worn table and curls one leg under the other that swung mindlessly

"I am proud to be the leader of our order. As you probably already know, we are Exorcists placed under a specific faction of the clergy referred to as The Order of the Gifted. I’ll leave it to the rest of them to explain the nature of their gifts at their own discretion."

He takes a breath before continuing, "The Order had tasked us to ‘take care’ of a child who began to exhibit strange behaviors, yet still remained relatively conscious and normal on most days. As we observed him, we were able to conclude that a mysterious entity would inhabit his body on the day of the Moon and the hour of Venus.** The point of concern is that no one has been able to classify it or determine the extent of what it could do. It doesn’t seem like its motivations are to hurt the child, but one of Yunho’s abilities is to see a majority of the classes, names, and at times attributes of each demon responsible for a possession—however, even as the greatest identifier of The Order, he’s coming up with nothing. Absolute radio silence."

You see Yunho’s eyebrows furrow with apprehension—a disturbance on the typically, deceptively soft expression he wore on his face. He didn’t like the fact he couldn’t detect it and felt noticeably weaker than the being residing in the boy.

See reference notes and explanations located at the bottom of the chapter. This essentially means that the spirit inhabits his body at three AM, every Monday.

"This could only mean that whatever is inhabiting his body may be stronger than most of those in The Order. The child’s name is Dorian. He’s soft-spoken and an orphan like the rest of us, currently residing at a nearby Catholic church as an altar boy in training in exchange for his care there. The difference, however, is that Dorian emits a powerful amount of spiritual energy and is constantly plagued by various spirits. He gets regularly torn up quite a bit." Hongjoong winces.

"He seems to have an affinity for anything with a pulse. Animals, children—the Earth itself seems to gravitate toward him—and most interestingly, he has the ability to manipulate a holy light. The only script we have in the Vatican documenting a similar skill is based on either Archangel Uriel, bearer of the holy sword, or… Lucifer Morningstar, the fallen and light-bringer. Who we also know, belovedly, as Satan." He ends dryly, somehow already prepared for the end of the world.

Though there’s little to no disturbance on your face, the impending doom hits you at full force. The exhaustion from the day before numbed you to the realization, and it now wildly waves its murderous hands to greet you. Raziel peeks in interest, prodding at your mind with a single finger.

‘This is going to be fun, Strega,’ he whispers excitedly.

"No, Raziel. I’m probably going to die." You deadpan. Mingi turns to gaze at you owlishly.

‘It’s much worse to live a lukewarm life. Where’s your sense of adventure? Ever thought of trying your best to find a way to survive all of this? Humans have all this access to mystery and spend all of their lives hiding from it—I don’t understand. You only have so much time anyway. Isn’t it an honor to die a certain death so full of tale?’ Raziel huffs in astonishment.

He’s right. It’s much worse to go down willingly, and strangely—there were people in this world who would take your place without needing much thought. Despite this, the path chose you and the eight other men in the room. It may have also chosen Dorian.

Hongjoong interrupts your train of thought. "The Order is under the impression that we’re fostering his attachment to us so that he’d feel safe with the clergy, thinking it to be a normal thing to train as an Exorcist—as we all did when we were his age. They also, most importantly, don’t know that we’re now aware of the true process of how one becomes an Exorcist of our faction—that we know the reality of how our gifts were forged."

"Strega, be clear with me. How far are you willing to go? What we all need to understand is that it’s no longer just about the wrongs we faced unknowingly—but there’s a corruption uprooting our world, and this child is the definitive turning point on whether mankind can survive for even the next century. Should we make the wrong decisions or even ignore what’s happening—mankind will be completely eradicated."

The room is deathly silent. Most eyes are pinned to the floor, and the weight of the world is squeezing itself into the room so it can fall onto your shoulders.

"—The Order is no longer to be trusted, not its leaders at the very least. Heaven has abandoned us, and the infernal seeks to gut our very existence. We are all that we have, as of right now. We are alone." His resolve resonates throughout the room, not censoring the truth, with the understanding and trust that his brothers can handle the weight of the world. Hongjoong is unshaken by the words falling from his mouth, and he says them with so much conviction that you’re convinced no one else can do this. No one else could lead the way he does. You’re unsure why you’ve arrived at this understanding with such shocking belief.

Even as a stranger, his strength pushes you to rise. Remembering something, you ask, "Well, what of the priest who sent you to find me in secret?"

"We don’t know his true motives in sending us to you, and it’s too risky to try and investigate that with everything going on right now. Our goal is to take the child away from The Order to buy us some time to plan what to do in the long run, and we’ve chosen to take the path of protecting Dorian at all costs. Although he’ll be the catalyst of the coming times—he is, contradictingly, our only hope. Mankind’s only hope. It’s best that we rely on one another and wait to see if he will reveal himself."

He hops off the desk to kneel in front of you, his gaze unshaking before grabbing to hold your hand in his.

"So tell me, Strega. How far are you willing to go?"

He moves to study everyone in the room.

"For a moment, I will not speak as your leader, but as your brother. As someone who has faced similar perils and losses—I know it isn’t fair that we are the only ones who can take up this task. I will not stop any of you from walking away from all of this—the Order, the unending fight that might be greeting us before we had time to prepare, or simply the end. It doesn’t have to be your responsibility. You, Yeosang—" Hongjoong spins toward the man who sat on the floor with a hand turning in his mouth slightly as he chewed on his nails. "If you wanted to, Brother—you could live out whatever time we have left as a normal man, roasting coffee beans, and maybe even finally taking a girl out on a date. Mingi, you too. You could walk away from here as a free man—a man who could fall in love unapologetically without worrying about the selfishness of that act, because you no longer have to worry about not coming home someday due to the violence of your life, and how it may carry over into whatever home you build. I know you dreamed of being a father someday."

At that acknowledgment, Mingi rips his gaze away from Hongjoong, peering toward the door with anguished want.

"The rest of you—all of us, we’ve done more than enough. We’ve lost everything and continued to sacrifice even when we were in the negatives. Brothers, Strega—I know how unfair this cause is. Nonetheless, will you do it? Knowing that we’ll never be fathers, coffee roasters, traveling magicians, or musicians—even for a single day? This is what we must pay in full before making the decision to do this, but we are sadly the only ones capable of doing it, even if we don’t have to."

Mingi rises for a moment, and the air stills as he clasps the doorknob, aching to turn it and taste freedom—even if only for a day.

And for a moment, he does.

Mingi turns the weight of his wrist to the right before he freezes at the sound of children’s laughter leaking from the gap in Hongjoong’s window—a gaggle of them squealing innocently as they played outside and ran through cobblestone alleyways with their cute pageboy hats and leather-strapped suspenders. He imagines their rash red cheeks and the turning of their eyes as they smile—momentarily falling back into his dream of a small hand clutching at his finger, and Mingi quickly closes the door before leaning to knock his temple against the wood.

He couldn’t do it.

If he did, there would be even less of a chance for a world to exist for the child he so desperately wanted someday—and all of the children in the world would die unfairly, unknowingly losing the one chance they had to grow up and do all of the things humans should do while they were still alive. It would all come down to the world ending because power always ended up in the wrong hands.

He would be no exception to that if he were to leave this place. Hongjoong’s eyes carry the same ominous knowing you’ve seen paint him every so often since you’ve met him.

“So what will it be? Do we risk losing our lives for this, even if it’s the only thing that’s left that’s ours?”

Seonghwa pushes at the door before outright speaking, his volume surprising you all given that the last thirty minutes of the life-changing conversation were spoken with dim cadence. Mingi stumbles a bit before plopping lightly onto a nearby seat to look up at Seonghwa with slight surprise as the man speaks.

“Our lives haven’t been ours for a long time—” he disagrees flippantly before closing the door with the weight of his back, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms with a sense of disarming calm.

“—Nonetheless, I will see this through. Even if I march in alone. But I have a feeling you already know your choice, Hongjoong?” He tilts his head toward the red-haired man casually. “What use will a weapon be without a war to fight? My death’ll be the only loss I’ll allow myself to face. Until then, I’ll crawl my way up so I can die the closest to heaven someone damned like me can be—and spit at all of heaven, hell, and earth. All of it.

I am a weapon. I always have been, and this—I’ll always be.”

San softly adds, “I will go wherever I am needed.”

Yeosang follows San’s words after a mindful pause and powers through the ache with a smile. “Knowing how you idiots charge in, I wouldn’t be able to sleep with good conscience if I left anyway.”

“This is a duty only the strongest can bear,” Yunho says, quirking a brow before continuing,

“—like I’d ever truly lose anyway.”

Raziel is overstimulated, vibrating within your skin, pumping with excitement.

‘This is what I came to Earth to see, Strega. It’s like seeing a Homeric hymn come to life or Dante Alighieri in the flesh.’

You close your eyes and try to recall the dream you had the night before. It was restless, and you can hardly grasp the visions in their entirety but cling to the images that spun past your eyes, threading fate through your skull. You knew dreams were often messages from the beyond.

Everything bled gold. Flashes of every face you’d seen in passing or had known in the Order spilled through your vision—as if flipping through a kineograph (a series of images that move as you flip through pages), somehow simultaneously watercolored and like you’re experiencing the memory through a flurry of winds. Flinging you to and from, in and then out. Images stutter in their movements and even as you recollect some—you can’t decipher their meanings, too obscure to connect one to the other.

But you know what visited you last night.

It was an omen. The first you’d received in a very long time.

The first image was of bleeding palms arched up to figures of weeping angels, followed by a burning of an old cathedral you’d never seen before. Jongho’s face rapidly began aging, and the scene whirled you away to plant you into another. This time, you witnessed from a body you’re unsure is yours—a palpable emotion of distress, fear, and grief piercing through you as Yeosang’s firm face yells something indecipherable to you. A translucent sheer shade of green forms into a shield surrounding the room as throngs of muddled black figures begin flowing in, and as you reach your hand out—another grabs you and you’re flung to another vision.

San’s eyes take on an ominous shade of gray—his typical Aegean replaced by a haunting doom, and a slow trickle of a singular bloody tear trails down his sharp face. He kneels in a lonely room before an altar, as a haunting blue light cascades down his form. This particular vision fizzles out on its own, disintegrating and hollowing into another. The rest that follow are spliced—quick vignettes that are even more transient than the others.

Seonghwa begging in desperation. Wooyoung standing at the epicenter of a mass fire. The skin of Yunho’s hand splitting open to reveal a radiating electric blue crackle. Mingi’s body laying disturbingly still on the church’s pews—the bleached strands of his calico-colored hair taking on the rusted shade of blood, slightly damp and achingly beautiful as he completely encases a small body between his arms, as if trying to shield whatever he holds with every inch of himself.

You feel someone shaking you, voices muddled and concerned but refusing to budge through the elastic film of your senses. ‘Strega! Strega—can you hear me?’ The sounds are drowned out by a thick liquid in your mind.

Dead crows lay cold on stale gray sidewalks, other flickering images of various smiles calling out your name—your real name—but you see no other notable features. They’re calling out to you with warmth and familiarity—in tones you’ve never heard your name uttered in before. One after another, they continue to flow into you and you feel your body breaking, unsure of how to carry the many things inside that you have yet to understand—have yet to meet.

You can feel the sudden presence of fate standing there before you. Watching you with her keen, unwavering, faultless eyes—as you writhe under the weight of things that have yet to come.

An image of hair spilling over a satin pillowcase and a hand trailing against a bare body as goosebumps rise at its light touch. Hongjoong’s mouth lowering slowly from his stance above you, widening to pass a bloodied and small crucifix ripped away from its chain into your mouth with his tongue. You kneel before him in almost an act of devotion, as he cups your cheek with that unreadable look in his eyes.

Another memory that’s also not yet a memory—

Or maybe it’s merely a dream.

You’re overwhelmed and sobbing at the pulsing flow of images that continue to throw you to and from, none of them cohesive or sensible, and you can do nothing as another wave comes and douses you. It’s maddening—your inability to distinguish premonition from possible unconscious desire. You’re queasy at the indiscernible and muddled messages this omen is granting you, as too many of them feel too dreamlike to accept their forewarning, even conceptually. Are they figurative or literal? You can’t think straight, and you brace yourself for the onslaught.

Hongjoong’s suddenly laughing under you, strikingly fairy-like in his joy, and you fill with such a strange emotion inside that you forget to breathe in its suddenness. He’s scrunching his nose as he laughs through tears, sliding his hands up your thighs to rest at your hips. You greet his laughter with a scorching kiss, a small moan leaving your open mouth as he rocks into you from under you. You feel the tight grip he holds you with and ache for it to bruise you. Something hot fills your mouths and you both begin to drown in it—but you don’t release his kiss and neither does he release you.

An image of you standing before your bathroom mirror as the liquid from your mouth trails sickeningly thick, bearing the color of a red so dark, it was nearly black. You return to the bed where a grinning Hongjoong awaits you with blooded teeth, as he softly pulls your hands to join him and drapes your body onto the sheets. The dark liquid strings from his tongue as he drags his open mouth down your body, gazing at you sharply with a grin that feels familiar.

Emotions are being poured into you at an alarming rate—they feel like yours, but it’s a phantom grip.

No, it’s not yours yet.

You can feel hot liquid leaking from your face but can’t find it in you to snap out of it. You cling to the final image of a broad back with skin the shade of deep ebony, still doused in that damning gold and amber haze. The boy is adorned by the flickering of a multitude of tapered candles—you recognize this chapel. You were raised in it.

Just as the figure begins to turn, you register one last detail before you’re awoken by the clamorous sounds of voices.

“Strega! What’s wrong?”

Wooyoung’s hands are cradling your head, his eyes wide in panic. The priests surround you, fluttering around the room and arguing with one another in confusion. You hear Yeosang snap at Yunho: “Don’t just fucking stand there! Do you sense anything else within her, or if there’s anything trying to get inside?”

To which the man replies with a sharp and restless bite, “I already told you, there’s nothing. I don’t know what’s going on either, Yeo—”

San seems to tremble despite the calm he keeps on his face, addressing the men behind him without turning in their direction. “Nothing else is inside of her that we don’t already know.”

As you come back to your body, you feel San’s hands gripping tightly at your hands as Seonghwa rushes in with a small bowl of water and towel. Running forward, he squeezes himself next to Wooyoung as he hastily dabs at your face. When his hand pulls back, you see the rusted red staining the white and coarse fabric. You tug a hand toward your own face and touch a crusting liquid—blood. Everywhere.

Digging the pads of your fingers lightly against your tear ducts, they stain with a streak of red. You’ve bled from your eyes, nose, and mouth. Thankfully, your ears weren’t dragged into the equation just yet.

“Strega, did you receive an omen?” San quietly asks, waiting for agreement. It seems like he already knew what was going on, and given that he has the ability of The Eye, you’re not surprised at all.

Yunho sighs, stressfully palming at his face and sniffling as he squeezes and wipes at his nose with a pinch. He says nothing but turns to face away from you for a moment, having his own demons to deal with.

“This was the first one in a long while, but yes. I’m genuinely sorry for scaring all of you—these happen suddenly, and whenever they do, it tends to be… a bit violent, as you can see. I couldn’t break out of it,” you exhale shakily.

Seonghwa remains silent at your side, but you can see his eyebrows pinched together in deep thought—not as stern as he had been for the last forty-eight hours you’ve known him. He hesitantly states after a few moments, “You were calling our names.”

“I—this was the most confusing Omen I’ve ever experienced. It was like I was forced to download all sorts of information that I couldn’t discern to be fact or fiction—just images and memories that weren’t memories, or just dream-like visions that seemed more figurative. It was just a mass collaging of you all, and everything was doused in this gold color. I felt everything too—things I’d never felt before in my waking life. Seonghwa, I was shown so much. I think I dreamt of this last night but triggered the onslaught of messages by thinking about it after unintentionally forgetting them.”

You continue to try and explain, “The nature of the Omens I receive is a bit different than others. They’re spliced or intensely fragmented, showing me direct images or memories that have yet to come or form. Other times, they’re more figurative or metaphorical. They usually visit me in my dreams, and I’ve only received an Omen while awake once before. I always end up bleeding or bruised, whatever way it comes—but receiving this much and to this extent? Never happened.”

Yeosang peers in, soft concern in his voice. “What were you shown?” he quietly asks, not wanting to push but knowing it was the question they’ve all been waiting to ask.

You barely register the number of men in the room until now and note that there are only five left. Before you start, you want to make sure everyone is there to listen to the forewarning. “Where’s everyone else?”

The air grows a little grim as Yunho sighs slowly. “...There’s trouble at the Order right now. Before you started having a violent reaction, we thought you’d just passed out from stress given the nature of the conversation, but San noticed that your energy was spiking strangely. Hongjoong instructed us to stay and keep watch.”

At the mention of Hongjoong, you redden a bit and pinch your face together, positively disturbed. If anyone notices, they don’t comment on it.

When Wooyoung finally speaks up, you realize his hands are cradling your head against his lower torso—the position making it look as if you’ve embarrassingly slipped down his body. Limp.

“We didn’t want to push you for a number of reasons, but didn’t know how long Raziel’s energy could be retained with you being in that state. Strega, I wanted to give you time, but sadly Hongjoong left us here not only to look after you, but because we also have to make our decision.”

You gaze up at him questioningly before he lowers his voice.

“The moment you started to hit the peak of your Omen, we received a call from the Order,” he finally lets out.

“Dorian began having a seizure of some sort, but then the Head Priest of his church noticed a sudden branding appearing on his body… and on his palms.”

You pale at the information, clenching your hands to rub at the keloid scarring on your own.

“Strega, we were tasked to try and find you by the entire council of High Priests the moment they received this information today. You are the only one who’s been branded with a stigmata in the Order’s recorded history. They still don’t know that we’ve ever met you or are in contact with you—and this confirmed that the suspected informant didn’t share the task he secretly sent us on to find you for our own discoveries.

Strega, if you go with us, you have to know what that’ll mean. You’ll most likely be asked to assist the Order, and if you say no this time, they’ll keep watch on you. Given that you and the boy bear similarities and are the strongest among us energetically, you’ll prove to be a threat by running free while they try to contain him. Both of your existences mean that there’s now a severe imbalance brewing in the realms, and something greater than we can fathom is on the horizon.

Now that he’s branded with a stigmata—it changes everything. What we originally thought was a higher-level demon may be much more powerful than that. Killing Dorian wouldn’t solve anything; it’s highly unlikely they’d be able to succeed with it in the first place. He may be a divine host, just like you—only the second in recorded history—or even partially infernal if he’s hosting what we fear he is.

Now, surely, his presence isn’t just an Omen of the end or even simply about a universal imbalance. Truly, if he were to be trapped in the wrong hands, horrible things would follow, even if mankind continued to survive, since we’d have immense manpower in the Order’s point of view—even if that means humans technically win.

The insider spoke to Hongjoong over the phone—” Wooyoung breaks off to take a breath, trying to stay calm and relay everything they knew, because your place in this—even more so now—holds the most importance. He was scared. Wooyoung was scared, and they all had to make a split-haired decision. There was no time.

“He heard the Order… there was a turning in the High Council’s conversation at the meeting today. In his distress, he directly contacted us. The Order sees Dorian as a powerful weapon. One that could deal a fathomless amount of damage. If Dorian is a host to Lucifer, Satan, Morningstar—whatever you’d like to call him—they’d want to wage complete war against the Infernal. They have arguably the greatest generation of Infernal hosts to date, alongside possibly the strongest Infernal resting within Dorian’s soul.

If Dorian were to hone his gifts, it would be catastrophically deadly. That’s without even addressing the biggest elephant in the room, given that we don’t know why Morningstar chose Dorian—as he came willingly. He could very well be the hand destined to eradicate us either way. Either path leads to his position as the sole spark to cataclysmic events. If the Order feels confident in trying to even out the planes… we don’t know how or why.

Just because Dorian might host Morningstar doesn’t mean that he’d have something of that level in his control—he’d become a puppet to the Order or the Infernal. Our only references regarding the reasons for the previous cherub’s fall state that it was due to his hatred for mankind and disobeying God.

Given that God doesn’t really like us himself… it’s a huge, confusing mess. A new age of corruption is already here, Strega. The Order’s ambition is leading them into new territories, and it’s not about maintaining the gate and protecting whatever comes in. We’re being tasked to go out and fight, so that we can eradicate the Infernals completely. I don’t know what the Order’s planning or why they’re so confident… and I’m worried.

I think the only way we can buy some time is by making sure to take the boy and raise him on neutral terrain. If all else fails, we’ll have to find a way to stop this somehow. The Order’s ambition is corrupt and endangers mankind with the intention of trying to wipe out the entirety of the source.

Strega, the only way through is in. If you come with us, you won’t be able to hide from them any longer. They let you go once, but they’re not likely to let you go again.

I don’t know your story, but I’m indebted to you, and I don’t take any of my dues lightly. I understand if you leave, since this is the last chance you have to hide. The only way we can have a chance at taking Dorian is if we play our parts well.”

You feel the foreboding of the spirit’s premonition more than ever now:

You will be fated to die a horrible death should you cross paths with the young boy, for the weight of his gifts is too disruptive to the balance of this realm.

Closing your eyes in admission, you recall the final detail of the Omen you were able to catch before being ripped away into reality—a young teen with skin the color of deep ebony and dense hair with the texture of cashmere. There were no other discernible features, too obscured by the candlelight’s flickering, and the only thing visible to you was the glimmering of a small gold earring on his right ear, catching the eye like the dancing of an evening star.

The shadow that fell over his body moves as he shifts, and the sudden illumination of his form reveals two distinct vertical tears along the bones of his shoulder blades, as if something were ripped away from them. The wound isn’t fresh, but it crusts at its edges—a long while before it’ll seal itself. You weren’t allowed to see his face.

You find the resolve to open your eyes before shakily hoisting yourself up with Wooyoung and Seonghwa’s assistance. There’s nothing to say. At least, nothing you have the strength to say out loud.

Death, come swift and kind. Please.

You think to yourself, sending the small and unforgiving prayer that wafts away from your burdened heart like a tendril of smoke before pulling the sleeves of your trench coat onto your body, as you make your way to the Order for the first time in five years.

♰𖣐♰

The five of you urgently march up the steps leading to the Sistine Chapel. An ongoing storm patters against the structure as you collectively lift your jackets to try and shield yourselves from the rain. The priests don simple clothing—black, thin turtlenecks accompanied by overworn leather jackets. Some opt to layer a flannel underneath for extra warmth or wrap thick scarves around their necks. The gloom is almost foreboding as thunder strikes and echoes throughout the city. The rain begins its downpour.

Only the muted moonlight provides some guidance, and the chapel, in all its majesty, is unsettling in the dark. Idyllic figures are scattered throughout the building as you eventually make your way up the seemingly endless spiral staircase, which intentionally mimics the composition of a Fibonacci sequence.

The entirety of the chapel was made to be exactly that. Perfect. Holy. Divinely formed.

Throbs of lightning flicker through the vast building and highlight the features of weeping angels, as if to wake them. Your chest quickens its rise and fall at the familiarity greeting you.

Your body remembers what it’s done here—how worn and jagged it had been upon leaving. When you at last arrive at the top floor, you finally note the absence of any others and of sound. You turn to Yeosang, who is at your immediate right, in concern.

“Is it usually this empty nowadays?” Your stomach drops at the slow shake of his head.

His voice is a bit scratched when he replies, “No... a few clergy members usually make rounds and are scattered around. The Order is mindful of security, especially with how covert they inherently function. It shouldn’t be this empty.”

Wooyoung steps to the side to shake his wet hair, slicking the thick black mass back. Two strands fall onto his forehead, and his hollow features are sharpened by shadows and lightning. Nodding in agreement, he mumbles, “Something’s definitely not right.”

San has been concerningly quiet this entire time, and you speak softly to him so you don’t alarm him. “Are you detecting any strange energetic waves?”

His head follows the only energies he can detect within the main meeting room—Hongjoong, Jongho, and Mingi—but there is something... strange. Soft waves bearing a formless appearance mildly disrupt his connection and are hardly noticeable to most.

He knows what this is, however. Mingi’s ability is similar in that he can mimic something entirely, temporarily borrowing one’s appearance, abilities, and energy. Simultaneously, he has the ability to nullify another's completely while he uses it for himself.

This feels similar. And whatever is doing this is good at it. Except the specs of its energy signature are strong—too strong to hide entirely from Exorcists of their caliber.

“Something’s wrong, and whatever’s in there is frighteningly strong.” His eyes dart right and left rapidly, turning toward the towering double doors leading into the room.

At his words, Seonghwa and Yunho immediately dart toward the door in haste; you and the others quickly follow after. Yunho bursts through the doors, pushing them open with both arms, and the scene that greets you all is nauseating.

The first thing you register is the three remaining priests and a small figure far into the room, at a safe distance between them. Their body language is careful in their interaction with the boy across the room, as if trying to appease or maintain calm. The trio lurches forward with arms reaching out, crouching with the tips of their hands curled downward. You hear Hongjoong’s strikingly calm voice.

“Dorian, are you still there? Can you hear me?” His voice echoes through the marbled and hollow area before you take in the horror of your surroundings.

The bodies of at least fifteen priests are thrown around the sizeable room. Some heads are blown completely open, splattering onto the white surfaces of the wall behind their slumped bodies, as if they’d been popped. There are no traces of direct trauma—you know this means it was a psychic attack. A remnant of a violent ability.

Puddles of blood run into one another in heaps, still pouring from the dead bodies to meet at the center of the room. Bodies with broken backs appear as if they were bent disturbingly against the wooden pews, hanging limp with completely severed spines—halved, despite being in one piece. The usually pristine, marbled room is doused in death and blood.

The silence is deafening, and you nauseatingly process the sound of blood dripping onto the floor in asynchronous beats from a hand hanging over a pew. They’d clearly tried to get away before they died.

There are no faces left to recognize amidst the gore, and you wonder if these were bodies of anyone you knew. You swallow a thick anxiety before shaking it away to focus on the matters at hand. These were men your faction had definitely known—probably trained alongside since childhood and until their joining of the secluded order. And if they could hold themselves upright, so can you.

Dorian’s back faces the lot of you, his small figure standing completely still. You register his features apprehensively with slow recognition. He is younger than what you’d seen earlier, but there is no doubt.

Skin, a deep ebony, and hair the texture of cashmere—tight curls that tuck themselves just above his ears. He is thin, with a willowy build, and taller than the average five-year-old boy, standing barely over four feet. You see Mingi twitch in anxiety, eyes blown wide as he tries to keep the sound of his heavy breathing at a minimum. Jongho’s anguished eyes twist his facial expression, and your stomach tightens at the sight of his grief.

Dorian remains still for another moment when Hongjoong prods again. “Dorian?” He lets out a small movement, stiffly turning around to look at Hongjoong before saying, in his boyish voice:

“They died because they were weak. That’s the only reason why you all remain standing before me.”

That wasn’t Dorian, and you feel Raziel fight to push up and past you, but you steel yourself and don’t let up.

Not here, Raziel. Not yet, you think, intentionally sending the telepathic thought past your barrier and into his. He doesn’t continue to push but remains dangerously close to your mental barrier, waiting.

“Dorian’s” gaze flits to the rest of you, but his eyes begin to dilate at the sudden sound of the bell tower ringing—signaling the arrival of 1 a.m. The sound of its bells is gaunt and haunting. Dorian falls forward, clutching at his head. Once it quiets again, Dorian lifts his head hesitantly—eyes confused as he takes in the cold floor beneath him. His expression contorts into complete horror as he shakily looks around the massacre before him. He fumbles to stand, falling over his knees as he tries to grab at the stiff body of a headless priest—hands shaking.

Hongjoong stands calmly beside Dorian, watching as he panics. Dorian’s small voice shakes as he shouts, “I can bring him back!” Fumbling around, he presses two fingers against the absence of a pulse on the priest’s neck. Dorian begins crying hysterically as his eyes meet a familiar necklace, coated in blood, lying flat on the headless priest’s chest. He recognizes him. A mass of crows begins swarming behind the substantial windows of the room, pecking at the glass in attempts to get in. Light begins to fall from Dorian’s hands, but alas—nothing. Their spirits had long departed.

You recall Hongjoong’s words: “He seems to have an affinity for anything with a pulse. Animals, children, the Earth itself seems to gravitate toward him—and most interestingly, he has the ability to manipulate a holy light.”

“Dorian, he’s gone. Let go.”

Dorian flings his head up in alarm at Hongjoong’s firm voice and meets Hongjoong’s dark eyes.

“I did this, Joong, didn’t I?” The words strangle from inside his throat, and the sound of thick grief and distress far too old for a child his age shakes you.

Hongjoong doesn’t hesitate. “You did,” he says with a deadly calm. Dorian stills, trying to gather himself, shakily rising while holding his knobby knees to keep himself upright. Your heart wrenches at the sight of him wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands when Hongjoong speaks once again.

“You did it, but it wasn’t your fault. The blood is on your hands, but you had no control over your decisions, Dorian. Learn from this. You can’t afford to ignore the truth of your strength anymore. This is what happens when you do—because then you’re too weak to stay conscious when he comes.”

Dorian’s shoulders shake, but he doesn’t allow himself to cry or look up at the rest of the bodies. He already knows these were the men who had been visiting and taking care of him at his church for the past few months.

He feels alone and thinks that something like him should feel that way.

However—strangely—when Dorian lifts his gaze from the floor and looks at all of you standing at the entrance of the hall, finally registering the presence of other living people, his eyes widen with overwhelming emotion once they rest on you.

He stumbles as he runs toward you, throwing his small body against you to wrap his arms around your legs.

“Mama!” he cries, curling into you for comfort, and despite your shock, you reach down to cradle him to your chest. An unnatural shade of molten gold meets your eyes, and you’re floored at finally seeing the features that had been evading you for the last few hours: in omens, visions, dreams.

Confusion fills you completely as you shake your head at Seonghwa’s bulging eyes when he says, “You’re a mom?!”

Ignoring him, you slightly loosen your hold on Dorian. “Dorian… I’m sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else,” you say almost apologetically.

He immediately rejects your statement. “No, you’re my mama. It’s definitely you.”

You open your mouth to try and reply honestly. “I’ve never met you, and I’ve also never been pregnant before—” but he readily interrupts you.

“You didn’t have to give birth to me to be my mom. You’ve never met me, but I’ve been waiting to meet you for most of my life—but today, you saw me, didn’t you?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at Dorian, stunned. He continues—

“Today, you and I were able to connect for the first time—that’s why I lost control a lot more easily...” He pauses in regret, a harrowing sorrow rising again. “—It’s my fault that I got distracted and didn’t pay attention to ‘him’ inside of me. Is Raziel here?” He brightens.

You immediately feel a prodding break into your mind, and Raziel instantly spreads his defenses as you push at Dorian to stop. Dorian appears unperturbed and unaffected by Raziel’s presence.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go too deep. I just squished in enough to hear him when he talks to you now.” He speaks almost cutely, and it warms your stomach despite how baffled you also feel. “You taught me how to do that, by the way.”

You’re frazzled, tired, and confused. “Dorian, I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“The future you did,” he says simply.

“Future me?” you whisper.

“Yeah, it’s like what happened to you earlier when we connected. You were able to see and experience the future because time isn’t linear. At least that’s the word the priests told me to use. Anyways, by connecting with me—you can see it too. It doesn’t always make sense, and it’s usually just a bunch of weird thoughts and images, but sometimes it’s like a long memory. You get these too, from time to time, don’t you?” Dorian’s gaze is unwavering, bright-eyed, and curious.

“That’s why I chose this path. I chose it so I could have this future—‘cause I wanted it. If I tried to be good, I’d get to have you all as my family. Every other option ended in fire though, so it’s not like I could really choose anything else. But I really liked you guys anyway. I didn’t say anything to them—” he gestures to the male priests “—because they wouldn’t really get it, and they weren’t supposed to know. But you do. I’m happy you’re kidnapping me.”

Even Hongjoong’s face falls in shock, astounded. Wooyoung’s eyebrows lift in quiet amazement as he laughs lightly. “At least we don’t have to explain everything again.”

Despite the clear exhaustion on his face, Jongho snorts and wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Mama, huh. Hey mama.”

To which you respond, “Ew.”

Mingi once again unties the robe of his cassock to fling it out into the hallway in frustration.

“How many fucking times do I have to go to the dry cleaners?!” He points at you and Dorian.

“You—” he seethes. “You guys owe me laundry money.”

You dryly reply, “So around $2.25?” and pretend to reach for the coin pouch in your bag. The small jingling of coins causes the man to turn around and screech in annoyance, grabbing at tufts of his own hair.

“No, don’t actually fucking give me money! But of the two of you—one is probably somehow Satan’s host, and the other’s hosting some Archangel that doesn’t even try in the slightest to not kill us whenever he comes out—” He takes a deep breath and breathes out a long trail of words, positively losing it.

“Please stop putting me in situations that require me to get a new cassock every other day. They’re expensive. The Order doesn’t pay us well since priests are supposed to live ‘humbly’—but here they are, starting A FUCKING WAR. They just don’t want us to have enough money to want to leave.” He’s whining and shouting, prolonging his words, but you let him get whatever this is off his chest.

A small giggle moves at your neck, and you realize it’s Dorian tucking his little head in. He makes you feel warm, and you realize that you might finally understand why people wanted to be parents sometimes. Just a little.

San moves forward a bit to tap on Dorian’s head with his palm. “It’s going to be okay, Ri,” as if sensing a hidden shift in the child’s emotions, and Dorian reaches his hand to meet San’s before squeezing it twice. He stands up from your light hold on him.

“Can you carry me?” San softly smiles as Dorian moves toward him to guide San’s hands under his armpits so he can heave him up. The blue of San’s eyes seemingly brightens at Dorian’s presence, despite all of the bloodshed surrounding you all.

As tragic as it was, being an Exorcist was commonly a violent job.

Yeosang quietly interjects, “Guys, we have to get going. All of us being here like this without reporting anything wouldn’t help our positions in the slightest. We have to go down to the Crypt.” He gazes at the bodies on the floor before squeezing his eyes shut in momentary grief, shifting to look away and tug at the collar of his flannel that tucked itself under his jacket.

You dread going back down there, but you’re too deep in the confusion from the last two days that you think you might as well do it for the plot—if you might die either way.

For the first time in the last few hours, you hear Raziel. ‘See—you’re getting the hang of it, Strega.’

Sighing, you’re the last to leave the room before shutting the door behind you solemnly, making your way down to the dreaded place you’d sworn to never return to.

♰𖣐♰

[more photos of strega’s apartment.] see masterlist for additional scene moodboards!]

[the order of the gifted, boy's dormitory.]

[Hongjoong's bedroom]

[vatican city: above the headquarters of the order] i'm using a combination of the sistine chapel, st.paul's cathedral, and the vatican museum as reference! main architecture notes will be posted separately from time to time.

Additional Notes!

**Stigmata are defined as a mark of disgrace, associated with a specific circumstance, quality, or person. 

completely nerding out below but thought it'd be cool to share the witchiness of devil's catch!

[Siren’s witchy corner and fun fact of the chapter that provides more details that accompany Devil’s catch] There is a planetary system that utilizes the Chaldean order of the planets– and each day of the week follows the sequence as such: Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Sun, Venus, Mercury, and Moon. It was something I’d seen in a lot of widely renown grimoires in association with their ritualistic practices, as I researched texts that helped provide me a more realistic understanding over the more “traditionally” accessible followings of ritualistic order and practice. For example, some rituals call for the caster to perform it at a specific hour of a specific day. Below I’ll attach a table I’ve pasted via the Renaissance Astrology website to share with you guys a better visualization of what I mean. Throughout the story, the characters will occasionally refer to days in the week by their planetary hours and the lords of that day. It’s a minor detail, but I chose Monday (The Planetary lord of Monday is the Moon) as the day in which Dorian gets regularly possessed by the unknown entity at three AM. (Which is considered the hour of Venus) In tarot, The Moon is a part of the Major Arcana and is commonly associated with the unknown, illusions, fears, and uncertainties. It also largely speaks of the emotional realms of our lives. The meaning of this card carries semblances to another Major Arcana, the High Priestess– but that’s a fun fact for another day. 

As for why I chose the hour of Venus is largely due to the fact that the planet is the third brightest object that stands relatively close to the sun, seen as an “evening or morning star” which is also a pseudonym for Lucifer… as he’s referred to as the fallen, lightbringer, and carried the visage of a morning star upon his fall from heaven, linking Isaiah 14:12 with Luke 10 ("I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven") and the general usage of the name Morningstar came from a king of Babylon. I hope some of you enjoyed my interpretation of these texts and provided a more in depth and intimate understanding of the universe of Devil’s catch! For anyone reading, I hope that you enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it. See you in a few days or a week, as I’m already writing the third chapter… and character sheets since I thought it’d be more fun to release them sporadically than all at once. 

see you next week (maybe, probably.) i hope you guys liked this chapter and that it made sense. let me know your thoughts :) more about dorian will be revealed in chapter iii. and most unanswered questions will get some clarity! i promise i’ll avoid having plot holes since this is basically the protype of a separate manuscript lol next chapter will also be way more lighthearted and kind of spicy…

© velvetdolor 2025. All rights reserved.

[wifelinkmtg]

we're so fucking back

Hiiiiiiii so Tarkir: Dragonstorm comes out real soon and there is... nothing major wrong with it! No racecars, no evil clowns, no suppurating mass of yet another shoehorned IP crossover event, just... Magic. Remember Magic? One of the best games ever made on this wretched earth in spite of everything? This is that!

And sure, I could complain about some things, like how the Abzan and the Sultai have the exact same color scheme for some reason, or all the inconsistencies in the overall time travel plot, like how Zurgo is suddenly a big badass like in the old timeline instead of the whinging bellbonger he was in this one or how the mammoths are suddenly unextinct, or how the application of the "Druid" subtype represents a desire on the part of WotC to appear less racist without wanting to understand anything about how racism operates at a structural level so they're just changing surface-level aesthetic elements at random while periodically looking back at the audience for approval like in that one dril tweet, but frankly I'm past wanting Magic: the Gathering setting and story to be good, you know? I just want it to be good enough.

AND SISTER, IT IS

Riverwheel Sweep (art by Wayne Wu)

At this point I believe my record on women with blindfolds and intense upper-arm muscle definition speaks for itself, but just in case: this is real hot. As for my stance on being wrapped up in a length of red silk, reeled in, and forced to my knees: surely you can guess.

Flamehold Grappler (art by Wayne Wu again, good job Wayne)

I firmly believe that everyone should shave their head at least once in their life, and only partially because I think it's hot when women do this. It also really helps to break the back of the beauty standards cop in your head. "But I have a weird-shaped head! I could never pull that off!" Bitch everyone has a weird-shaped head, or a weird hairline, or one little patch of hair that grows in the wrong way, or something. Get comfortable with your own weird body—you'll be happier.

Anyway while I like the idea of a woman with four additional flaming arms, in practice I think burns are Not Worth It. Probably she doesn't have those all the time, so I suppose she could just be a good-looking girl who can beat me up, which I'm not complaining about, but also consider: if you took a bath with her the water would never get cold.

Meticulous Artisan (art by Anna Pavleeva)

Really really long nails, on the other hand, are worth it. I want to stumble out of the bedroom the following morning covered in cartoon kiss marks and an alarming number of lacerations.

Also—we're all on the spectrum here, yeah?—"meticulous" is one of the hottest things a dom can be. Slow, patient, curious about stimulus and response. "What happens if I touch you here? Interesting. What happens if I hurt you there? Very interesting."

Constrictor Sage (art by Nereida)

One of the other hottest things a dom can be is a giant snake lady. Have you ever held a snake, realized it's just smooth and pleasantly-textured skin over nothing but muscle? Holding a snake is a kind of tactile and sensory bliss—we are all on the spectrum here?—which exceeds any number of smooth rocks or plunging your hand into a bowl full of flat glass beads. I've never met a rope that could compare to the coiling allure of snondage.

And while we're on the subject: look how her victim is arching her back. Look at the spectral snake beside her head flicking its tongue out across her jaw. There is something very lesbian going on here, and I hope they both enjoy themselves.

Felothar, Dawn of the Abzan (art by Victor Adame Minguez)

I'm really enjoying her th—hang on, what the fuck is she wearing? The weird burning face breastplate? Wait all the Abzan are wearing this, this Arnim Zola bullshit? Can she team up with four more for the full Voltron? Is this intended to tease an upcoming Power Rangers secret lair?

WAND! MAKE MY MONSTER [Become Immense]

Okay shut up about that it's Eshki time.

Eshki Dragonclaw (art by Tran Nguyen)

I am immediately in love with this character and this piece. I love the bright colors and the patterns on her coat, the beads in her hair. I adore how stylized, how just one step shy of cartoony it is. I really enjoy her dog, who is evoking for me the demons and monsters of traditional east Asian art. And the girl... I want to see her on runways. I want to see her in magazine shoots talking about her nascent music career. God help me, I want to be her songwriter in that music career, and you know, I would try to keep her grounded and safe against the pressure and the predation of that but she's getting actually famous now—look at her, of course she is—and working harder and harder and the fans and the producers keep wanting more more MORE and she can't stop, she can't even slow down and when I tell her I can't keep watching her do this to herself she says who cares, there's a hundred better songwriters drooling for the chance to work with me but I see her face in the instant before she composes herself to say that and it breaks my heart but I leave anyway. And when they start putting her in movies I watch them, I watch when they cast her opposite whatever fifty-year-old man they have doing Bond this decade, watch her go to bed with him, watch her face-up floating dead in the pool when the bad guy takes his revenge, and I follow along when the press inevitably turns on her like botflies. The court case against the powerful industry figure she loses, the tabloids talking about her drug use, the easy punchlines she makes for nepo comedians. And then one day she's gone—dead or vanished, no one can say for sure—and that is all.

Until one day, many years later, there's a woman in the park sitting with her back to a tree, not singing but playing guitar, dark-haired, face different from how everyone remembers it, and she's playing the last song I ever wrote for her, the one she never recorded, never performed. And I stand there across the way, unable to move, and she plays until another woman comes to get her and she slings the guitar on her back and they go off hand in hand. And wouldn't that be enough? In all this wide world, wouldn't that be enough?

NO. IT'S A PEDESTRIAN, TOOTHLESS LITTLE FANTASY. YOU HAVE PEOPLE THESE DAYS WHO LOVE YOU BACK IN UNCOMPLICATED WAYS. HAVEN'T YOU OUTGROWN THIS

Mostly, I think. Every once in a while it's fun to indulge, tho—and for a pedestrian, toothless fantasy, isn't it awfully pretty?

CAN YOU PLEASE JUST EAT PEOPLE OUT IN YOUR FANTASIES LIKE A NORMAL PERSON

Well, maybe next time. Whenever Wizards deigns to bestow upon us another actual Magic set. Or whenever I nail down what the next seminal, life-changing essay is supposed to be about. See y'all then.