#so we'll leave that unknown for now

[splinterclan]

Ok everyone else has had a question so I wanna ask Worlstar about her past and what made her decide to leave the old clan and who is the new leader of Oakclan

Some further lore: Whorlstar was not the leader of Oakclan, she was just the one who got the prophecy that lead to Splinterclan being made. Oakclan still exists, struggling on, and the old leader is still leader there (their name is Palestar and they're Very Old). I do have another clangen file for Oakclan so we'll see if more members ever become prevalent!

[melminli]

Ddakji Man

summery - you were always struggling to make ends meet, despite having three separate jobs and you doubted that that would ever change. it felt like you were working out of your own casket and it would probably be more sustainable to invest in one at this point.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: slight arguing, cursing but nothing too graphic tbh

"Are you sure that you don't want to come?" One of your friends asked you a little sadly since you were about to leave the group. They rarely got to see you anyway, did you have to leave so early? "You never come with us when we go out for a drink, we miss you there, you know?"

You smiled a little tiredly as you strolled casually through the streets. "I'm sorry guys, I just have to work tonight." you tried to explain. Besides, I'm fucking tired and just want to get some sleep before then. I miss my bed.

Your best friend pouted as she hugged you from the side and you welcomed it, even if it made walking a little more difficult. "It's always work this work that. Live a little for once, all this stress is not good for you. You need a break." she spoke up before a thought came into her mind that made her a little furious. "Don't tell me that you're using work as an excuse to cancel on us. We can do something else if you want to. I'll even invite you, come on!"

You took a tired breath. I don't have any energy for this. "Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to get drunk with you and I'm not being sarcastic or anything." you clarified. Besides, I wouldn't work this much if I didn't have to.

"All right." she gave in unhappy. "We'll catch you one of these days, I can feel it..."

You laughed softly. "Please do," you replied and stopped in front of the stairs that led to the subway. This was the place where you had to part ways with the others and you did with a few more hugs. You enjoyed spending time with them and loved your friends with all your heart, but you were still happy to be a bit on your own now.

So you plugged in your cable headphones and played your current favorite song at the loudest volume before checking when the next train was going to arrive. Another twenty minutes? The last one must have just left. You decided to just sit down on a bench and wait while staring blankly around and quietly mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

A few minutes later, a person sat down next to you and you could see out of the corner of your eye that it was probably some kind of businessman or something. You didn't look closely out of politeness and turned your gaze somewhere else after checking the time on your phone.

"Excuse me." the unknown man tried to get your attention, but as expected, you could barely hear him over the booming music. He placed his briefcase in the space between you before leaning closer to your figure and looking towards you with a smile and finally, you seemed to notice his stare and turned in his direction. You took out one of your earbuds as you met his gaze. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The man leaned back again. "I haven't said anything yet. I wanted to ask if I could talk to you, do you have a moment?"

You looked around a little uncomfortably as he maintained uninterrupted eye contact with you. "Ehm, well..." you stumbled slightly over your words. "I'm not religious or anything, sorry," you replied, having no patience for another discourse about Jesus and the church. This is the fourth time this week, lucky me. You thought to yourself as you were about to put your earplug back in.

The salesman held a hand in the air to stop you from doing that to keep your attention. You just looked at him uninterestedly and waited, it was going to be a while before your train arrived anyway. A smile graced his face after you were willing to listen to him again. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, I just want to offer you a chance."

Your face tightened a little in disgust and you were quite irritated by now. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer and didn't say anything else, so you had no choice but to interpret his words. He doesn't look like that kind of guy, but I guess it's always the ones who look the most decent. "Listen to me asshole," you said openly this time, all politeness gone as you pointed at his chest with your index finger. "I don't know you, maybe you're one of those men who try to talk in riddles to seem mysterious or something, but right now it just sounds like you're looking for someone cheap to fuck." you replied as you tapped his tie with each syllable and leaned a little closer to him as you whispered. "And I'm not cheap, so you might want to look elsewhere."

This time it was you who grinned as he looked at you in surprise and he let out a small grunt after you finished your sentence. The salesman straightened his tie while watching your figure before reaching for his briefcase and revealing its contents, "That's too bad, but also not what I was talking about," he replied as you looked at the money and colored paper in confusion. "Have you ever played Ddakji?" He asked you as he took out the red and blue paper. You just shook your head. "That's no problem at all, we can still play it if you're up for it." 

Your gaze alternated from his hand to his face. Oh, so he's crazy. You finally concluded. I guess he is too handsome to be just a normal guy, huh. You turned your head away from him, something about the whole thing just seemed perverse to you. "No thanks, I'll pass."

"You sure?" He asked again, knowing he'd convinced you as soon as he brought the money into it. These people are all the same, she'll snatch the paper right out of my hands after I start talking a language she understands. "Every time you win, you get 100,000 won from me." He began, watching the look on your face. "But if I win, you owe me 100,000 won and -"

You sighed and interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure. I still don't want to play with you, okay?"

This time the man looked at you with a cold, icy stare. A few minutes passed like this and you just tried to ignore his gaze, but then he started talking again. "All right. 200,000 won." he finally said, but couldn't seem to get your attention back. He tried again. "Is it because you've never played the game before? We can have a practice round if that would make you feel more comfortable." he tried again and got irritated when you continued to ignore him. He looked around the area as he considered his next move. Is she waiting for me to increase the prize money further? These people usually jump up happily at the first amount since they're so desperate. He tried to collect himself again. "500,000 won." he finally said. "I've got the money right here, you just have to go for it."

When is this stupid train coming. "Look, I don't want your fucking money, understand? I'm not a gambling addict or -"

"You may not want it, but you need it," he said, annoyed. This has never happened before, is she stupid? He then spoke out your name and described your miserable living situation as if you didn't already know about it yourself. "You also have quite a lot of debt for someone who is still relatively young, are you seriously going to turn down the money I'm offering you? For what, to prove a point or something?"

You didn't know what this man's fucking problem was, he should be glad that you didn't want to take his money, and how did he even know all this? You got up from your seat next to him when the train finally arrived and turned to face him one last time. "Fuck you," you told him and then went to the doors. You even looked out of the window at him as soon as they closed before you, to show him your the middle finger.

The man in the suit watched your figure irritated until it was gone and then, took the little card out of the inside pocket of his suit, that was meant for you. He turned it over a few times in his hand before closing the open briefcase with his other one. He had already played and lost a few Ddakji games in his life, which was the point of the whole thing - to recruit players for the actual game. However, the thought of what awaited them there meant that he was still in control of the situation. He was always in control of the situation. "I didn't loose, we haven't even played." he tried to reassure himself.

And yet the whole conversation with you left him feeling like he was utterly defeated.

[uvobreakmylegs]

We'll Never Know the Place

title is from a Fever the Ghost song that felt appropriate for this piece

Part 2 (Phinks x reader)

Chrollo x Cute Hunter!reader

Warnings: death, torture, gore, body horror, mentions of captivity, implied kidnapping

Word Count: 7.9k

“You don't need me for this.”

Chrollo paused in his step, taking a moment to glance over his shoulder as he looked back at you. Feitan halted as well, having been making his way out of the room, and you felt the way he watched you, his expression no doubt turning to one of concern and displeasure at the fact that you were already kicking up a fuss.

Despite having both of these particular men staring at you, you didn't meet the gaze of either; your attention was on focused solely on the unknown male in the chair that sat in the center of the room.

He was slumped forward, his short, dirty blonde hair covering his face somewhat while the blood that had dripped down from his neck stained the bare skin of his torso. It had gone on to soak into the material of his pants before it ultimately created a puddle on the seat of the chair beneath him and dripped off the edge as it continued to pool below. He was only able to lean forward to a certain extent as his wrists were firmly secured to the arms of the chair by way of two pieces of thick rope that kept him firmly attached and thoroughly unable to get away from whatever he had been put through. Which had undoubtedly been a lot, based on what you had heard before and from what you could see now. There were several fingers missing on both of his hands, you noted, as well as something that was off with the skin of his left bicep that appeared to be blackened. A glance at his legs revealed that one of them had been broken severely as it was bruised and bent beyond belief.

There was more damage – there was always more damage with the things Feitan did to people – and while you didn't want to know what it was, the things you could smell clued you in to what he had done to this man. A distinct burning smell, combined with an odor so foul that it made you want to vomit.

The man was dead. Obviously, as you wouldn't have been brought in otherwise.

You had known this was coming, too. After hours of hearing him scream and cry and beg for the pain to cease, you knew what would be happening once Feitan stepped into the main room where the troupe was gathered and whispered something into Chrollo's ear. That had been followed by a quick nod of acknowledgment by Chrollo before he ordered the torturer to end the man's life. You knew that, not long after, the head of the troupe would stand and tell you to follow.

You knew what he expected from you, and there was absolutely no part of you that wanted to go through with it.

“You don't need me for this,” you repeated.

Chrollo stared at you over the fine white fur that lined his coat, his gaze unyielding and his presence as oppressive as ever.

Then he spoke your name, his tone stern.

“I would have thought by now that you knew how useless of an effort it is to try and get out of this,” he continued.

“Insisting on using my ability is stupid,” you argued. You stepped backwards despite knowing Feitan was right behind you. He was watching you carefully as well, likely poised to grab you if you made any attempt to run.

You weren't going to do that. But you would argue with Chrollo.

“Shizuku is right outside,” you continued, “Blinky is better suited for this. It'll take literally a second if you have her do it. Just use her and leave me out of it.”

Chrollo observed you silently, his gray eyes watching as you tried to convince him that Shizuku was the better option for what he wanted. Your argument wasn't just a way of a bullshitting to get out of what you didn't want. You knew that you were right. More importantly, he knew you were right.

But those cold eyes remained impassive no matter what you said.

“I brought you here for a reason,” Chrollo told you, “now I need you to do your part.”

His tone was a tad more dangerous that time, and that was enough to put the fear into you as you tore your gaze away and looked to the side, your fists clenching hard enough that the way your nails were digging into your palms was starting to cause you pain.

“….. I don't want to,” you answered.

“That's a shame,” he said.

He then turned so he faced the body of the man as he said “but I'm afraid this is the last chance you'll get to do it of your own volition before I'm forced to make you do so.”

“……”

There was little other choice than to do it before it got to that point, you told yourself. Otherwise he would give that order, and a sharp pain would form in your skull, getting worse and causing you absolute agony until you did as he had told you. Nor would it end there, as your defiance going that far would mean trouble for you once the troupe's business had finished and you were left alone with Chrollo again. You hated the way he was able to control you, but there wasn't anything else you could do. It was a lose-lose situation.

With a frown on your face and your eyes cast downward, you steeled yourself before you began approaching the man's body, your clenched fists shaking ever so slightly as you made your legs walk you forward.

I hate this

You kept your gaze downwards as you walked by Chrollo, keeping your eyes only on what was directly in front of your feet, not wanting to make more eye contact with him than was necessary. A small bit of defiance that did little to affect him, you knew, but it was all you could do.

How childish, you could hear him say in that subtly mocking tone that you were all too familiar with.

I hate you

After a few moments, you heard Feitan's footsteps walking out of the room before growing quieter. He had stayed when you had spoken out, his warning gaze heavy upon you as you had felt him silently urge you to do as Chrollo had said. Now that you were getting down to business, he was gone, having returned to that main room to sit with the others.

He knew what Chrollo was making you do, as did the rest of them.

I hate every last one of you

They were aware of those feelings of yours as well, and for certain members, it bothered them deeply. They didn't like how upset you became with them, nor how emotional you would get when Chrollo put your abilities to work. But no matter how much it bothered those members, all of them were in support of their boss.

None of them would ever come to your aid. All because in their minds, you were the one who was in the wrong.

The burnt odor coming from the man was stronger when you moved closer to him. Once you were standing directly in front of him, you were able to confirm that the darkened mark on his bicep was, in fact, a burn mark. The sight had you biting your lip in disgust as you thought of the agony he had gone through at the unfortunately creative hands of Feitan and the wide variety of pain he had no doubt experienced before his throat was finally slit wide open.

Hopefully with everything else that had happened, that final slicing of flesh wouldn't have been as painful.

Hopefully.

A cursory glance about the room revealed the moderately sized wooden box that Feitan had been using as a table that was stuck in the corner, as his tools were lined up neatly on top of it. Almost all of them were covered in blood. When you narrowed your gaze, you saw bits of flesh that were still stuck to the metal.

Chrollo already knew what you were thinking.

“Take care of whatever is left over of him over there,” he began, “but you're to do nothing that alters Feitan's tools.”

…. Damn. It looked as though that stunt of yours from last time really was a one time only thing, much to your disappointment. But it wasn't that surprising.

If Chrollo was ever to make a mistake, he only made it once.

Turning your attention back to the man's body, you kept your focus on him while Chrollo stood behind you, watching your every move as you prepared to use your nen. Thoughts of what would work best in the environment and how much you needed to alter came to mind, but first….. First was to make him more presentable. To give him at least a little bit of dignity in death. Because at the end of the day, he was a person who had a life, goals and ambitions, all of which had been snuffed out for the sake of whatever it was the troupe was up to now.

Was it possible that he had been just as bad as Chrollo and the others? Or potentially even worse? Yes.

But you still wanted to show some kindness.

You began by undoing the ties around his wrists, and immediately you found that the rope had been wrapped so tightly that the skin in that area was raw and bleeding, some of it even scraped away against the harsh material that bound him. How much had he attempted to break those bindings while Feitan was removing his fingers?

It didn't matter, you told yourself, because you were undoing them now. Once both pieces of rope were untied and laying on the ground beside him, you placed his hands upon his lap which allowed you to hide the stumps of his fingers somewhat. Though that action caused him to lean too far forward and you were forced to adjust him before he fell over onto the floor. You quickly grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him so he would lean back, and that made his head roll backwards as it followed the pull of gravity.

Now not only did you have a good look at that awful gash in his throat, but also the lifelessness in his unblinking eyes and the way in which his slack jaw hung open.

…. You could fix this. While you couldn't do anything about his throat, you could fix the way his expression looked.

Placing both of your thumbs over his eyelids, you gently pulled them shut. Then, while you kept your thumbs pressed over his eyes, you exerted a tiny bit of your nen that spread over the lids. When you pulled your hands away, his eyes stayed closed. You did the same with his jaw, locking the joints in place so his mouth would no longer hang wide open. When that was done, you stepped away, and the nen you had infused into those places on his face stayed strong. With his face looking like that, it was as though he was sleeping.

Even though that illusion was quickly shattered with one glance towards his throat, that felt better to you.

The other person in the room was clearly of a different opinion.

“You're wasting effort, love. No one who cared for him will know what you did,” Chrollo told you.

You frowned.

“He was a person; he deserves respect, even if it's just this much,” you answered.

“He was a person who existed outside of the troupe,” Chrollo corrected, “therefore he isn't important.”

“Maybe not to you.”

Damn it. Your voice was already starting to crack.

Chrollo noticed that as well and wasted no time in pouncing on your vulnerability.

“You haven't even begun and you're ready to shed tears?” he asked.

“With the things you make me do, what do you expect?” you responded bitterly.

“I expected that you would have grown used to this.”

“Maybe if being involved in this awful shit was something that I actually wanted,” you said, “but I still don't, and I never will.”

He didn't respond that time. Instead, as you were looking at the body of the unknown man and trying to figure out if there was anything else you could do for him, you heard movement coming from behind you as Chrollo walked to the side of the room. What he was doing was obvious when you heard the sounds of chair legs scraping against the concrete floor before they were lifted into the air, and then again moments later, when they were placed a few feet from where you were standing and directly in front of the dead man. An aged chair creaked as Chrollo settled down upon it, and suddenly the full intensity of his gaze was upon you once more.

“Whenever you're ready, love.”

“….”

There was no more stalling to be had, then. Nothing more you could do to put this off. Chrollo probably felt as though he'd been generous in allowing you to take your time and do what he felt were pointless actions in rearranging the man's body. After all, the troupe was still in the middle of a job, and he wanted you to get on with it so they could continue with the current loose end being fully tied up.

If you took any longer he would invoke that pain on you again.

With a deep sigh, you activated your hatsu.

Revival Gardener

In moments, your nen had conjured up your watering can. Moderately sized and brightly colored, it stood out among the gray rock and rotting wood of the abandoned room. The can itself was a pastel yellow and adorned with pink accents, topped off by the two handles that were shaped to resemble cartoonishly cute hearts. It was very likely that if there was ever a magical girl character with abilities that were focused on gardening, your watering can would surely be in her inventory. The light purple packet of seeds that was also adorned with hearts fell into your palm after the watering can, and you figured that would likely also be something she would use, though you wondered how her abilities might differ from yours.

Maybe she would've been smart and would have some sort of ability that was more effective in combat.

As interesting as it might have been to consider the show about a hypothetical magical gardening girl, you couldn't focus on that forever. Definitely not with Chrollo staring down your back. Placing the empty watering can on the floor next to you, you adjusted the packet in your hand, both sides of which were left blank, and reached into your pocket for a pen as you looked to the man again.

His body, his clothes, the chair, and the blood that had been dripped and spattered across the floor. Four things to make note of. Another glance over at Feitan's tools and the blood and gore that covered them, not to mention the blood trail that led from them and back to the body. You would need to make sure you covered all of that area as well.

With all that Revival Gardener was capable of, it sadly wouldn't be a difficult task.

Holding the pen to the packet, you began to write:

Male human body

Adult's clothing

You were about to write down shoes when you stopped to double check yourself. It turned out he wasn't wearing any shoes, so that wasn't something you needed to bother with. You continued with the list.

Wooden chair with rope

Human blood

….. That was it. After double and triple checking what was before you and what you had written down, that was all you needed to change. You flipped to the other side of the packet which had yet to be filled in, and you paused a moment as you decided what you would write.

During that time, you didn't hear anything from Chrollo. He stayed silent as you wrote on the packet, but you could tell that his gaze was still on you. You didn't need to turn your head to confirm that.

After a moment of pondering, you decided to write the word “lavender”. The area the building was in was appropriate for it, with dry temperatures and lots of sunlight. That would grow well here.

With the decision made, the pen went back into your pocket, and you ripped open the packet before dumping the entire thing into the watering can. The seeds, the packet and the words you had written all broke apart within the space of the can, transforming into liquid that began to swirl about within your conjured creation, emitting a soft purple glow as it filled the can to the brim.

When the water stilled was when you could begin, and now with the can in hand, you looked again to the dead man. Exhaling a shaky breath as you clenched the the handles tightly, you took a few more moments before lifting the can above him, and with a tilt of your hands, you proceeded to pour the contents upon the poor man's body. He was quickly soaked from the water while the blood was washed down all over him, pooling in that same place in the seat of the chair. The chair was soaked as well; you made sure of that as you walked around it to make sure you covered every inch.

The body, the clothes, the chair, the blood. All of the blood. You needed to take a few steps back as you covered the floor in the unending water, making sure that you got every last stray drop.

All of it needed to be changed.

The man still looked as though he was sleeping as the water ran down his face and caused his hair to stick to his forehead. The blood from his neck washed down fast, however, joining the growing puddle beneath him that now had the water mixed in.

You then walked over to where Feitan's tools sat and poured the water over them. Though the box and the tools were quickly soaked as well, those items would remain as they were once this was over.

The last thing to be done was to cover the floor where the blood had dropped between the tools and the chair, and just like everything else, the water soon engulfed it.

When you returned to the body to make sure you had gotten everything was when the conjured water finally ran out.

With that, the first part was done.

You took a step back, staying behind the body while your watering can vanished. The second half of the process was going to begin soon, and you needed to watch all of it.

Chrollo chose then to speak once more.

“Come sit with me, love.”

You looked over to him and frowned when you found him motioning to an empty chair that sat beside him. The temptation was there to refuse and insist that you would stand for the rest of it. But just like everything else, this wasn't something you could get out of no matter how much you protested.

You remained silent as you walked around the body and took your place by Chrollo's side, your eyes immediately going back to the man while you gripped at your knees while you desperately hoped that, just once, Chrollo would refrain from saying anything further. Even though you knew that was incredibly unlikely, both due to the fact that there was a fair amount of time that needed to be filled out before you could leave this room, and because there was no way Chrollo would overlook your continued resistance.

Still, you dared to hope that he might, just this once, keep quiet while you suffered.

But of course that didn't happen.

“You know that it doesn't need to be this way, love,” he began.

You frowned again.

“You're right; it doesn't,” you agreed, “and yet you're dead set on forcing things to be this awful.”

You then cut him off before he could speak, saying “don't bother telling me that I'm the one making things difficult. I'm sick of hearing it.”

Chrollo let out a hum in response. Hearing that only had your frown deepen while your hands clutched at your knees harder, all the while you kept your gaze focused on the body. There was no change to be seen as of yet. But that would take a little while, as it always started internally before spreading out beyond.

Right now the man still looked like he was sleeping.

“Have our discussions become so stale that you immediately know what I'm going to say?” he asked.

“They only ever go around in circles. Honestly, I would've thought you'd be sick of the same conversations over and over,” you said.

“Be sick of them? Never.”

Chrollo leaned forward on his knees as he gazed at you, and from your peripheral vision, you saw the serious look on his face as he told you “if it's a chance to help you, then I'll gladly have the same conversation tens of thousands of times.”

“You're not helping me.”

“I am, love. You just aren't able to see it yet.”

“Because kidnapping me and making me dispose of your victims is such a great way to help someone,” you sarcastically answered.

The man's body shifted somewhat as he slouched back in the seat, though even now he still appeared to be asleep.

“I'm putting your abilities to good use,” Chrollo countered, casting his gaze towards the body as well.

“They weren't meant for this.”

“And yet they work quite nicely.”

“Shizuku's ability is more effective.”

“So you've said.”

Chrollo leaned back in his seat as he continued “but Shizuku isn't the one that I'm worried about.”

You scoffed.

“You're trying to say that you're worried about me?”

“I am.”

You shook your head.

“That's a lie. You're not worried; you just want to control me,” you said.

“That's not true.”

“How is it not? You took me away from my work when I didn't want to go with you and you used one of your stolen abilities to make me do what you want. How is that anything other than you controlling me?”

“Because it's for your own good,” he answered.

“I think I know what's good for me.”

“And I say that you don't,” said Chrollo, “the others are in agreement with me.”

Because all of you are monsters

You couldn't say that part. Because even though you knew it to be true, there was no way you could bring yourself to voice such a thing. You had grown up with Chrollo and most of the others, after all. All of you living together and finding those little scraps of happiness within that city of junk and decay.

Even though you hated the people they had become and you made that feeling of them clear, there was still some affection you had for them, for the children they had once been and who were now nowhere to be found.

The man's body twitched, arms and legs moving in response to your nen.

Already there was bile building up at the back of your mouth. You hated how you now recognized that as being a sign that his nervous system was in the process of changing. Just how many times had you been made to do this now? You could count them if you really wanted to, but once again you kept yourself from doing so. The exact number didn't matter. The fact that you were being made to do this at all was awful enough.

Chrollo had paid no attention to the current condition of the body, his focus back on you as he asked “have we already reached the point where you ignore me? I thought we had a bit more banter to go through before that happened.”

Your scowl remained on your face as you replied “for someone who claims to be worried about me, you sure do take a lot of time to mock me.”

“I'm afraid that can only be blamed on you, love. I care about you deeply, but you make it difficult when you kick and scream at me in an attempt to test my patience.”

Hearing that made you bite your lip in frustration; he was making it sound like you were a child throwing a tantrum. That alone was enough to make you want to hit him. Not that it would do you any good, even if, in the moment, it might have been slightly satisfying.

But just like you had told yourself before, the repercussions of such an action would come fast and harsh once the troupe dispersed.

…. Maybe that was pathetic of you. That you, a Hunter, would allow something as simple as pain be enough to give him leverage over you. Weren't you supposed to be stronger? After passing the trials of your exam, how was that enough for him to control you?

Then again, you hadn't taken the exam in the hopes of proving your strength or even in the hopes of becoming stronger. Getting that license was simply the easiest way to achieve your goal.

The chair beneath the man groaned and the legs began to buckle, bending slightly forward while green began to appear in the blood soaked wood. The ropes that had been left on the floor were also being overtaken by the green color, and upon the surface of the floor that was marred by his blood, small sprouts were starting to appear.

With the way the front legs had bent forward, the man's body lurched over, his upper half leaning against one of the chair handles. Despite the change of position, his face was still largely facing towards you, and the sense of peace you had tried to grant him by shutting his eyes and mouth was still there somewhat, even with the awkward position his body was in.

You hated this. You hated that you needed to watch the body of this unknown man being slowly taken over. If you tore your eyes away for too long, the change would stop and you would be stuck in this place with Chrollo for that much longer, which he would definitely chide you for.

Though you doubted he would mind all that much.

“Who was he?” your voice whispered, your nails digging into your hands again as you were having a difficult time with the sight before you.

“No one of importance,” was his response.

“I want to know anyway.”

“You don't need to,” Chrollo said firmly before he added “if you wanted to know his name you should have made that a condition for your hatsu.”

“I didn't make it a condition because Revival Gardener wasn't meant for things like this” you replied.

“I know. Your reasons were far more pointless.”

That last part stung.

“It wasn't pointless. I was helping people,” you said.

He had the nerve to sigh deeply at that.

“Love,” he began, “you chose to become a Cute Hunter.”

“I was helping people,” you insisted.

“What were you helping with? The official role of a Cute Hunter is to maintain the beauty of people and keep them looking younger. Was helping others maintain their vanity so rewarding?” he asked, the disdain slowly but surely creeping into his voice the longer he spoke.

“You know what I was doing. You know wasn't anything like you're saying and you know how much it meant to me,” you said.

You turned your head so you could give him the full extent of your glare as you again insisted “I was helping people.”

“You were growing flowers out of trash,” Chrollo said, “such a thing is hardly life changing and I guarantee there were few who even noticed what you were doing. All of us agreed that it was a waste of your talents.”

“But it wasn't. It isn't.”

He was wrong. The troupe was wrong. It wasn't a waste. They were simply incapable of understanding because of the path they had chosen.

Chrollo shrugged at your response, saying “feel free to cling to those beliefs of yours while you still can.”

“You say that like you think-”

The words coming from your mouth were lost when the man's body moved again, this time in the way of a full body jerk as something inside him gave way to the life growing within him. Whether it was because of that movement or simply something you had done wrong when you had applied your nen earlier, you couldn't say.

But regardless, his eyelids and mouth snapped open, and with him still facing towards you even now, you were greeted with a horrific sight.

His eyes were gone.

All that stared out at you through the empty sockets were the green of the leaves and the soft purple petals of the lavender flowers that continued to grow and fill the space within the man's head. His tongue was gone as well, though his teeth still remained, sitting among the stems and leaves while his gums were being consumed, slowly but surely revealing the bone of his jaw that sat beneath.

Now with his mouth once again hanging slack and open, the flowers began to make their way out into the open, the plant life now poking out at the edges of his mouth. That seemed to have caused a chain reaction, for the plants began to make their way out of his injuries as well. The stems and buds were now hanging out of his neck wound, reaching down his bloody torso where they were met by the ones escaping through the cavities left by his missing fingers, all mingling together as the flower buds grew rapidly. Lavender was blooming in that burnt section of his arm and on his broken legs and spreading out just like the rest of the plant that had found its way to the open air.

Empty sockets continued to stare at you as the flowers continued to grow, reducing what once had been a man into nothing more than a human shaped terrarium.

All the moisture had left your mouth as you stared back. You were left unable to speak as you began to tremble within your seat.

Mercifully, Chrollo remained silent during this time.

When the change began to affect his bones, his neck was fast to break. His head quickly bent over to the side as his skull began to lose it's shape.

And upon seeing that, the horror of it all overwhelmed you.

With a hand over your mouth, the floodgates of your emotions opened wide and you began to loudly sob.

This wasn't the way things were supposed to be.

A woman in a sharp business suit and her long hair tied up in a bun looked about the trees that surrounded her in bewilderment, her mind clearly racing as she wondered how this forest had come from nowhere and if she had somehow gotten lost on the way to her intended destination.

“Are you alright?” you called out, causing her to jump as she turned to face you.

“Ah – yes! I just…..”

The woman looked about again as she said “I got mixed up somehow and ended up here. I must not have been paying attention when I was driving.”

“Where were you trying to go?” you asked.

“The abandoned strip mall,” she told you.

“The one that was built on a former garbage dump?” you clarified.

She nodded.

Your hand went to the back of your neck as you said “well, most of it's gone now, but I can take you to see what's left of it, if you want.”

The woman's eyebrows furrowed, but she followed anyway when you beckoned her. Through a moderately sized collection of trees, bushes and a few open glades filled with wildflowers, you led her to the other end of the newly formed forest, and the both of you were greeted with a mound of dirt, concrete and aged garbage, most of which had fossilized. It was large, standing high over both of your heads. That was more in line with what the woman had expected, but she again looked behind herself to see the lush greenery that was clearly present in a place that it shouldn't have been.

She looked to you as she began with “you said… You said that this was what was left of the hill?”

You nodded.

“The same one that used to be a dump that was covered over and had built the mall on top?” she asked again.

Again, you nodded.

The woman looked to the greenery and then to the remains of the old dump site before she looked at you again.

“How?” was her bewildered question.

You nervously clasped your hands together as you began to answer.

“I'd heard about it not long ago,” you told her, “that the structure was abandoned years ago because of the methane coming from the ground and the way it had been sinking, and that it was still sinking into the garbage underneath it. When I learned that nothing was being done about it, I thought I could help.”

Realizing that you hadn't actually answered her question, you added “I'm part of the Hunter Association, and I figured that my skills would be able to fix this place. So I changed the buildings and what was underneath it to this.”

You gestured to the forest as you explained “it took a long time, but I think it's turned out well.”

The woman didn't look any less shocked after you finished speaking.

“You can just….. Do that?” she asked.

You nodded.

The woman continued to stare at you in disbelief, and the longer she looked at you like that, the more you began to worry that she was upset.

Then she spoke again.

“Can I hug you?”

The request was unexpected, but you smiled as you nodded to her. The woman quickly pulled you into a hug, and she held you tightly.

“Thank you so much,” she said, “I've been trying for so long to get the city to do something about that place but they always put it off, saying there were more important things they needed to take care of. They were content to let that place rot and fall apart, and I didn't think anything would ever be done.”

“Thank you so much,” she said again, “you don't know how much it means that you've gotten rid of that junk hill.”

You smiled again as you hugged her back, and a warmth bloomed in your chest as you heard her words of thanks. What you wanted most was happening: this had been your most ambitious project in your role as a Hunter, and before you were even finished, it was making a difference.

If you could do that for this woman, then the thing you wanted most could surely happen:

You could change Meteor City.

Your sobs continued to wrack your body as you watched the man's skin fall limp, held up only by the lavender flowers inside of him. He had been reduced to a skin suit, an unnatural looking thing that few would guess had ever been a real, living and breathing human. The chair he sat on was now beginning to lose it's shape as well, and slowly, the suit of skin began to lower further and further onto the floor as the wood of the chair was also absorbed and transformed.

Once all of the bones had been completely taken over, the skin began to do the same. It started in the areas where the skin was already broken, spreading from there like a disease. You watched helplessly as the last of that unknown man was eaten up by your hatsu, as his skin was broken apart and changed from flesh into plant.

You couldn't help but cry as the thought repeated in your head: this wasn't the way things were supposed to be. Your hatsu was never meant to be used in such a way, never meant to be perverted like this. All you had wanted when you became a Cute Hunter was to help people by way of giving them small pieces of joy as you turned trash into something as simple and beautiful as a flower. Even if it was something small, it was worth it to you.

Why did Chrollo find that so objectionable?

The pieces of the man's skin that still remained reached lower to the floor as the chair gave away completely. His blood soaked pants were vanishing quickly, the rope that had once sat by his side was long since gone, and the trail of blood that had led up to the box with Feitan's tools had been replaced by a long and scattered line of flowers.

It wouldn't take long now until everything about the man – his actual body and the things done to him – would be gone completely. No one who hadn't been here would be able to guess as to what had actually happened.

All they would see was a large patch of lavender growing within the abandoned building.

Though the man was nearly gone now, it didn't make it any easier on you, as your tears still fell as you focused on the parts that were still there: the last remaining bits of his skin and his dirty blonde hair that still stuck out at the edge of the growing patch of flowers. It had spread out far enough that it had reached where the two of you sat, and when you felt the petals brushing against the edge of your shoe, you pulled up your feet.

As much as you wanted to console yourself by saying that there was some comfort in the man's body not being allowed to decompose or rot, you knew it would do little to ease your distress. You weren't a good enough liar to convince yourself of that.

Chrollo's feet had stayed where they were when the flowers had extended out towards him, drawing his gaze down to the floor. After a moment of consideration, he reached down to the space in front of him, finding a stem of lavender and grasping at it. Then without even the smallest ounce of force, he plucked it. Sitting back up, he examined your creation, twirling it as he did so and causing the flowers to spin in his fingers.

“The end result is beautiful, love, I will give you that,” he told you, “but ultimately your reasons for your ability are far more superfluous than I know you would ever want to admit.”

You had bitten your lip to keep your mouth shut, though it didn't stop the way you sniffled while you continued to cry as you watched the last of the man's strands of hair turning green and sprouting up flower buds.

“One day you'll see that it was a good thing that I stepped in.”

Again you didn't respond, but you stiffened when you felt him lean towards you and felt his fingers tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. The apprehension of feeling his touch turned to disgust when he placed the flower he had pulled into your hair, tucking it in with the hair he had so gently moved only moments before.

Cruel.

That was all he was.

When the last strands of dirty blonde hair were gone and all that sat before you was the lavender, you knew it was finished. Just as Chrollo had wanted, you had done 'your part'. With no trace of the scene of bloody torture from before, you could now leave the room.

You attempted to do so without another word, but no sooner had you stood up, Chrollo ordered you to sit.

With no other choice, you did just that.

Chrollo's hand traveled to your lap in order to clasp yours, and the squeeze he gave you felt like it was meant to be encouraging, though you knew it was performative. Just like everything was with him.

“I know you think that I enjoy seeing you in distress, love,” he began, “but I need you to know that it couldn't be further from the truth. Your well-being is something that I care about deeply.”

“…. You have a funny way of showing that,” you mumbled, not having the strength to speak louder.

“Think of it as rehabilitation.”

“It's not, though,” you said, shaking your head, “I don't need to be fixed.”

“And once again, you're simply wrong, love.”

“…..”

When you pulled your hand away from his, he chose not to react. Nor did he say anything when you pulled the bit of lavender out of your hair and tossed it to the floor where it was quickly hidden among the rest.

“Can I go back to the other room already?” you asked bitterly.

Chrollo hummed as he took a moment before answering you, as if to rub more salt into your wounds by treating you like a child that needed to ask for his permission before you did anything.

You had pointed that out, once, calling him out on how degrading it was as well as insulting.

“Well, you aren't much different now than how you were as a child, are you?” he had spoken in response.

“Even now, you haven't grown past clinging to your princess dresses and playing make believe that you can force the world to match your idealized fantasy.”

You had slapped him for that. Hard enough that there was blood that dripped briefly from the corner of his mouth and a bruise that had stayed for several days after.

He didn't do anything to you for that. Not immediately.

It was when the job was over and the two of you were left alone in a location of Chrollo's choosing that he retaliated, using that ability that made your head feel like it was splitting in two as he forced you into doing things that you didn't want to do.

Again, the question surfaced: what kind of a Hunter were you that you allowed pain to keep you from fighting back?

…. One that had decided that 'Cute Hunter' was the direction to go in.

The slight self-deprecation of that thought wasn't lost on you. And it wasn't lost on you that it had come from Chrollo, his opinion sneaking its way into your brain without him needing to say anything or even knowing your own internal dialogue.

I hate this, you told yourself again.

It was the only thing you could say because it was the only thing you could do.

“It seems as though we're finished here, so I suppose you can leave,” Chrollo finally told you.

Without another word you stood and all but ran out of that room, having no desire to ever enter that place again and not wanting to risk Chrollo giving you more orders while you were still within earshot.

Chrollo himself remained seated, again gazing at the miniature field of lavender.

It wasn't right, you thought as you wiped away more tears.

Things shouldn't be this way.

Heading back to that main room where everyone else was gathered – because you'd be brought back there anyway if you went somewhere to be alone – your return was noted by all of the troupe, questioning eyes going to your form as you entered and made your way back to the spot in the corner you'd been occupying for the majority of your time here. Those questioning gazes didn't stay that way long, as one look at your tear stained face told them all that they needed to know as to how your corpse disposal had gone.

You had completed it. Everyone knew Chrollo wouldn't have let you leave without doing that. But as they continued to watch you, seeing the way you curled in on yourself and held your knees to your chest after you had taken a seat on the floor, all of them could tell that it hadn't been easy for you.

They couldn't understand it.

As they watched you obsessively and angrily wipe away the tears that you didn't want them to see, those members who had grown up with you were again at a loss as to why you cared so much about someone you didn't know. That, after the things you had experienced alongside them with your childhood in Meteor City, you had somehow managed to turn out so differently from the rest of them.

A few moments passed before Phinks got up from where he was sitting, and with his hands in his pockets, he began to walk towards you, no doubt with the intent of offering some kind of comfort. The harsh glare you sent him when he came close had him stopping in his tracks, and he floundered for a moment before turning around and returning to his seat, the awkward and disappointed look clear on his face as he did so.

You didn't want their pity or their comfort. You didn't want to be around them at all. No matter what they said, the childhood friends you had once had were nowhere to be found, not here or anywhere else in the world.

It was easier to tell yourself that the day Sarasa had been murdered, all of them had died along with her.

For the rest of this job, not another word would be said to you. You had done what was wanted of you, and so your role ended there. All you had left was the end of the job when Chrollo would force you to leave with him, making you follow him like a puppy. The troupe would part ways and then you might see a few of them sporadically between heists, but the majority of your time would be spent with Chrollo, and the head of the spider would return your reality to the one where your world revolved around him and him alone. Your abilities that you had wished to be shared with the world would be only for him, and again you would be forced to languish while you remained in his company, feeling a bit of yourself breaking apart day by day.

Maybe one day he would be successful.

Maybe one day he would manage to brainwash you and you would no longer find what they did so objectionable. Maybe a new version of yourself would emerge, one that had died just like they had with Sarasa, and you would walk around with them like a zombie, committing the same foul acts they did and feeling nothing while doing them. Maybe you would tell yourself the same things they must have, that all that mattered were those within the troupe, and in that way you could callously disregard the lives of others.

That wasn't today, though.

Eventually Feitan would return to where the body had been, no doubt needing to take a bit of time as he pulled the purple flowers that embraced his tools off one by one.

Eventually Chrollo would return to that main room and give instructions to the members that he had deemed necessary for the current job, and he would do so without casting a single glance in your direction.

The rest of the troupe would follow his lead, continuing with the job. Business as usual.

But at the back of their heads, they would remain hopeful for you.

Because if there was anyone who could fix you, it was Chrollo.

[eclipse-msoul]

FAMILY, FAMILY DEAR BATS! 🦇

Synopsis : What happens when a normal reader enters Batfamily. Not by getting orphaned or saved but rather just visiting her uncle for the first time ( it's Bruce ). Now somehow she's become the unofficial therapist of this family and for unknown reasons the only one with enough common sense.Also why is everyone so Overprotective?

Or

Normal reader X Platonic Batfamily

Chapter 1 :-

Your life was pretty uneventful and even, except for a few ups and downs here and there. But still it was as ordinary as it could get, living with a mother that had nursing as a profession and your father being an office worker made it normal but nice.

That was until one day when your mother told you about your uncle’s existence. Her cousin to be exact.Well excuse you for being surprised- YOU didn't even know you had another living relative ??? And they just dropped the bomb so casually – that too at dinner time !!

“ I haven't actually met him yet but the media has framed him to be… quite unique.” Your mother quotes. “ I talked to him, he's a kind man and I think meeting him would do us some good.” Your father sees the way your one way from questioning reality so he gently pats your back and smiles.

“ Don't worry little star, if it makes you feel better she told me two days ago.” He says as your mother lightly giggles and the two make a couple of jokes here and there. “ You two…really..” you groan.

 As the dinner slowly comes to an end and your father and mother pick up the dishes and drop them at the sink, your mother glances at your father telling him to speak. “ Ahem-” he fake coughs to get your attention, “ This summer we're planning to send you to live with him.” 

You look at him , your eyes wide. “ I beg your finest pardon-WHaT!?” they both nod and you violently shake your head. “ What happened to you two going with me ?”

They share a glance , “ We'll be going together but you'll stay a bit longer and get to know him better. He's family after all."

“ Mom, dad ! You've got to be kidding me.” You try to reason, “ I don't even know him, Heck I didn't even know he existed until a few moments ago and you're telling me to just go and live with him out of nowhere !!”

Your mother puts a hand on your shoulder and you just know you're going to lose. “ Sweetie, my cousin isn't a bad man. Just think of it as meeting a new friend and also I heard Gotham has one of the best medical units in the world~"

You think for a moment before a sigh escapes your lips. You can't defeat them anyway, might as well try. ( Which is totally not because you're excited about checking out the hospitals in Gotham and their advancement. Nope sir, No way)

“ Fine, I'll go. When are we leaving ?” You ask to get up from the table. “ Tomorrow.” 

“ WhAt-”

…

Moving forward you are currently standing in front of the totally not terrifying and scary Mansion inside the most amazing and sunny Gotham. Get the sarcasm here ? Yeah, me too.

Your mother dials the number and the bell rings and runs until it's finally picked up. “ Bruce Wanye here.” his voice sounds horse, he was probably asleep you think. It's only 11am right now. You've slept far later.

“ Hello…yeah…it's me...” 

The Giant Gate automatically opens and the three of us enter. You take in the scenery and like you thought this place is really nice. It's a billionaire’s garden afterall. Just then a voice comes from inside the Mansion and a butler comes out.

He’s an old British looking man, the way he moves is elegant like those movies you've seen and the way he greets your parents and you is so nerve cracking. “ A pleasure to meet you Miss Rachel and Sir Lucas.” He greets them and then his eyes turn to you.

“ And this is?”

“ Y/n but please..call me Julia.” You reply.

“ Miss Julia then.” He states , “ please come in. Master Bruce has been waiting for your arrival.” He brings you all to the meeting area. As you all take a seat the butler bows yet again and walks away.

“ I'll get Mister Bruce here.” He says walking away.

Your gaze that was previously fidgeting back and forth now has time to look around. This house was so splendid and beautiful and everything was exceptional and well cared for.

Few minutes pass before the door chimes open and walks in on the Man you searched about last night. His posture is elegant like a noble, similar to the butler, yet his eyes are filled with dark circles.Youve got a very good feeling he hardly sleeps.

“ A pleasure to meet you.” He says while shaking hands with your parents and then taking a seat. “ I'm sorry it took me a while. I was busy and hardly had time to rest due to the WE business and projects coming up.” 

Your mother nodes. “ It's understandable Bruce. You've got a great burden on you and it can get hard.” You sit next to your father and mother, right in the middle of the giant sofa as they chat.

Bruce while talking turns his attention to you and you see how his eyes briefly soften and there's some sadness in them. But it vanished too quickly for you to think it was there.

“ This is your daughter ?” He asks.

“ Told you long enough to notice.” Your mother dabs a small sarcastic smile. She loves chaos far too much. “ I apologize-”

“ I'm kidding Bruce !” Your mother retorts back. “ This is my little baby girl , Julia Y/n.”

You smile at him awkwardly and he returns the gesture. “ How old are you, Julia ?”

“ I'm sixteen, Mr Wanye.”

“ Oh, you're close to Damien's age-” he remarks , “Please call me Bruce. I'm your uncle, Julia.” He smiles. 

“ Alright, uncle Bruce... and uh, who's Damien ?” you ask curious. Your parents definitely haven't mentioned a Damien.

" He's my son. So he'd be your cousin, Julia."

" Oh !" You glare at your parents for not telling you this and they just nervously turn away. They live messing with you far too much. Sigh

" How old is he, uncle Bruce ?"

" He's eighteen." Noticing your curiosity he deemed to telling you more.

" He's currently on a little trip to his elder brother's place. They'll be coming here by tomorrow" he smiled.

Okay that's it. How many cousins did you have ? You were told about one uncle and that's it.

" I see."

And you parents and uncle get back to their conversation. Soon enough the butler returns with some refreshments and introduces himself as Alfred Pennyworth.

Once you've eaten, you excuse yourself to look around the place and the butler whom you now know as Alfred guides you.

The Mansion is bigger than you initially thought and Mr. Alfred is a nice companion to talk to. He tells you about your cousins (surprise suprise, THERE'S MORE THAN SIX) and about how most of them are adopted except Damien who used to call himself the “ blood son” and all their shenanigans.

It's fun to learn about your soon-to-be-new family. All of them seem to sound like interesting individuals and you could use some cousins to play with. Alfred even mentions their hobbies and how they like to prank each other.

Also did you mention how the way to Gotham was the most nerve cracking thing ever. Like this is the city that batman-THE BATMAN couldn't cleanse after almost two and half decades of work. So it's an amazing day nevertheless.

While exploring the Mansion with Alfred your steps stop when a specific picture catches your eyes. You stop and observe it.

Two adults stood along with a small kid that you deemed to be eight to ten years old. The picture drew you in like nothing ever did. It had this air around it that just couldn't explain.

“ Lovely picture, No ?” Alfred’s voice broke your concentration. Your eyes slid to his and you smiled slightly. “ It is. Who are they ? The woman seems to resemble my mom.”

“ That's Miss Martha and Mr Thomas along with young master Bruce. It's a family photo before their death.” Alfred reminisced. “ It's been a tradition for generations and master Bruce has continued it.” He guided you to the latest picture of the family.

It felt forced.

They all felt too far away in this ( like they didn't want to be there ). Even Bruce felt off. Different from the smiling man you had just met. He seemed tired and sad.

“ Those are my cousins ?” You asked, hoping Alfred didn't see the look in your eyes

“ Yes miss Julia.” He told you which was who by pointing and explaining their descriptions. Being a sixteen year old girl with an intense love for history and lore and yaoi, you tried your best to listen.

…

“ It was really nice to meet family. Thanks for having us Bruce.” Your mother hugged Bruce which he returned and then he shaked hands with your father. “ No thank you for coming. I'm kind of ashamed to admit, it gets lonely without my children here..” He chuckled.

" Well you won't get lonely not with our dear Julia here ! She had a tendency to make people break their shell and fit in." You father added.

" She sounds like a lovely child. Does she perhaps have an interest in medicine ? She kept asking about it during our conversations." 

Your father and mother shared a small grin. " She does. It's all she can ever dream about."

" That's...good." his eyes flickered to you.

You had fallen asleep an hour ago during dinner and was currently laying on the sofa. Your snores echoed throughout the Mansion. Your parents chuckled and Bruce couldn't help but think it was a pleasant change.

A child that didn't have to fight crime.

One that didn't have to take the burden of the world.

He had already investigated your and your parents backgrounds and confirmed that your mother was indeed his blood cousin. The blood part was maybe due to Damien kind of rubbing off on him.

It was a shock to find out about her existence. Even more to know his mother had a elder sister that passed away few years back and her only child had disappeared as a toddler. That was your mom.

He would never even know of her existence if not for her searching for her parents and finding him. He almost cried when he saw her picture, she resembled his mother in looks except her hair was black.

But you, your looked like the exact replica of his mother. Like a younger version.

He knew your personality was meek yet it had kindness and a spirit all his children had. It was nice chatting with you during dinner. You expressed your interest so well and he knew that his kids would love you. Maybe even Damien. 

Talking to a kid like this , carefree and smiling reminded him of what he had lost.It almost felt like his children hadn't left.

That part really hurt.

“ Alfred will take you to the rooms. You can have any you like. Have a pleasant sleep, I'll see you all in the morning.” He said leaving you and your parents in Alfred's care (not before glancing at you one final time.)

Time for his duty.

TBC…

[seokminfilm]

calvin klein boyfriend 🎸 kim mingyu

♫ pairing, kim mingyu x reader ♫ warnings, non-idol au, model au, sweet fluff, established relationship, mingyu is a tease lowkey, boyfriend mingyu, whipped reader, mingyu is mentioned to be taller than reader, kissing, suggestive (if you squint), mingyu calls reader babe ♫ synopsis, calvin klein looked good on your boyfriend. annoyingly good.

♫ author's note, yes calvin klein mingyu is still driving me insane. yes i'm coping with wonwoo's enlistment notice. let's talk about something we don't all know 🧍 ANYWAYSSS hope you all enjoy this! first time writing for mingyu so we'll see how this goes 🙏

♫ now playing, unknown guy (lee youngji)

♫ word count, 571 | for @kstrucknet

"welcome home, mr. calvin klein," you tease lightly, pulling mingyu in for a tight hug as you breathe in his fading cologne. he chuckles lowly, chest firm as your head lies upon it. "was the shoot a success?"

"yeah, it was. the stylists kept complimenting me, too. i wish you would've been there─you would've been so jealous." mingyu has a devious look on his face, eyeing you down to gauge your reaction. used to stunts like this, you just smile, shaking your head as you run your hands over mingyu's bulging muscles.

"you really do look so good. the pictures you sent me a few hours ago have been stuck in my head." you let him lean down for a kiss, lips hot and soft against yours as he sighs against you, pulling away.

"i thought you'd like them. plus, i just wanted to show off for you. remind you that i'm yours, you know?" mingyu looks down at you with wide, innocent brown eyes, and your heart turns cartwheels in your chest, bringing a smile to your face.

"and what a great reminder it was, gyu," you sigh dreamily, and mingyu giggles, smile warm as he places his keys on the counter, stripping himself of his shoes and hat.

evenings like these were the best─seeing mingyu coming home from photoshoots was one of your favorite things to witness. being able to greet him at the door with a hug and kiss while telling him how well he did brought a smile and butterflies to your stomach every.

you followed mingyu to your shared bedroom without a second thought, hand encased in his bigger one as he threw his duffel bag to the floor.

"come here, babe. i missed you." mingyu powers off his phone, holding his arms open as you melt into his embrace. he rocks you slowly, pulling you away from him as he glances down at your lips.

"can i, babe?" mingyu asks, wetting his lips as he glances back up at you. he looks so soft like this, pliant and ready to kiss you and love you until you've had enough.

"please do, gyu." you sigh, and mingyu can't but grin, leaning in slowly as he closes his eyes. his warm lips meet yours in a quick swoop, and you're melting into him, rendered useless by his work. mingyu's so professional in the way he kisses you, knowing all the right ways to kiss you to get a reaction out of you.

once he pulls away, you're a sighing mess, body warm and face even warmer as mingyu tucks hair away from your burning face. he's feeling whatever you're feeling too, eyes blown wide and hands warm on your skin as he cups your cheeks gently.

sighing dreamily, you shake your head, letting mingyu's hands roam wherever they want as you make eye contact with him. his eyes are filled with so much longing and desperation, that it makes you want to do whatever he wants you to do, whenever he wants to do it.

"damn you and that calvin klein photoshoot, gyu." you laugh aloud, voice soft as mingyu kisses your neck softly, leaving warm marks along your skin. he chuckles, obviously amused by your weak insult.

"you're too cute. i love you." mingyu smiles, and you shake your head, kissing him once more as you reply. "not as much as i do, you big goofball."

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 6

Masterlist

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence. Word Count: 2162

Danyal keeps to the shadows as he enters the town. He doesn't know where he is or if anyone that could recognize him is here. The last thing he needs right now is for Grandfather to know his location; or Damian. Which is not a thought he would ever think of. While the two of them certainly had their differences, Danyal never thought they would end like this. He should have though he realizes; their story was only ever going to end with a tragedy.

Grand- Ra's has made his displeasure of Danyal known for quite some time now so it shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did when he and Damian were forced to fight. What was surprising though is just how easily his brother accepted it.  

Was he not worth fighting for?

He was prepared to stand against Ra's with Damian at his side knowing full well that it wouldn't have ended favorably for them. It seems his brother didn't feel the same way though. 

Damian and him weren't brothers anymore though were they? He wasn't an al Ghul after all. Danyal al Ghul is dead from this point forward; he's just Danyal right now.

As the sun begins to set lower and lower it makes Danyal feel more comfortable with exploring the town's streets more in depth. The first thing he needs to do is find a place he'll be able to safely lay low for the night. If he can do that then he'll be able to sit and think more clearly about what his plan for the future is. 

What Danyal doesn't expect though is that while making his way through an alley he would have a run in with a girl with bright orange hair who looked to be a couple years older than him. While his first instinct is to immediately eliminate this unknown threat he decides to instead push that feeling down when he realizes that this girl would stand no chance against him in a fight. 

He's not going to let Ra's training control his life anymore; not everything needs to end with spilt blood. So against everything he's ever been taught Danyal runs, or attempts to at the very least. 

The girl on the other hand decides to chase after him instead of simply letting him melt into the night. 

"Hey! Hey wait!" She calls out after him.

Best to get this situation over with now. Danyal abruptly stops and turns to the girl, "What do you want?" 

"Are you ok? Do you need help?"

Which is honestly a fair question honestly now that he thinks about it. He is, after all, still mildly damp, his shirt is torn with blood stains, and overall Danyal would say he looks similar to that of a stray cat. "I'm fine. Leave me alone, and go back to wherever it is that you need to be."

"You look hurt though. I can bring you some bandages, or water!" It's obvious that she's not going to simply let this go anytime soon, After a few moments of silence though she hesitantly offers her name. "I'm Jazz, what's your name?"

"Danyal." He finally answers after a few seconds. 

"Daniel?" 

"…Yes" Everything about his old life is gone from this point forward. Might as well start with a new name. They sound similar enough anyway it won't be a difficult transition to make for himself.

It doesn't take a lot after that for Jazz to convince him to accompany her back to her home. To this day he'll blame it on the exhaustion he was feeling. At the same time though he knows he made the best decision he could have going with his, now, sister. He doesn't know what his life would be like right now if Jazz hadn't followed after him and- 

"-ny! Danny!" Snapping back into reality he sees both Sam and Tucker looking at him questionably.

"Yeah, um yeah! I'm sorry, what were you saying Sam?" 

"I was asking what your thoughts on the new planetarium Wayne Enterprises just opened are. It was apparently something Damian Wayne himself advocated for. Maybe we'll have to plan a group trip to Gotham to check the place out." Sam repeats herself with a dramatic eye roll before her face softens out with a more gentle tone in her voice. "It might be good for you to get away for a bit, away from your parents." 

When it's clear Danny doesn't show any sign of answering right away Tucker takes the moment to try and lighten the mood, "It seems even your celebrity look-a-like is interested in space!" 

Damian was never interested in space that Danny knew for a fact based on how many times he would have to beg his brother to go and watch the stars with him. His twin always did it though, no matter how much of a fuss he put up Damian would join, and listen to him explain the stars. 

"Maybe you're right Sam," He can't help, but let out an exhausted sigh, "Maybe getting away will help them come to terms with everything. I think we should avoid Gotham though; that's basically me asking for trouble. I hear Central City is pretty this time of year though." 

Danny knows that his friends will assume that avoiding Gotham will be about not wanting to get involved with any hero/villain problems, but really it's so that he doesn't have to worry about running into any of the Wayne's, specifically Damian. He'd sworn off the city entirely when he first learned about his brother's dramatic arrival. Danny has long accepted that this would mean never meeting his father. 

“How- how are they doing now? Do you need to stay here again tonight?” Tucker hesitantly asks. It seems like all their conversations eventually lead them to the topic of his parents nowadays. 

“Thanks man, but no. I’m going to be going back tonight. Everyone in the house has been avoiding the topic, and staying away isn’t going to help fix anything either.” It wasn’t easy being in that house though. It’s tense everytime he interacts with his parents. The looks they always give him, as if he’s just some stranger living in their home now. 

At the same time though he can tell that they want to understand, to learn. They haven’t gone hunting since they found out, and removed any kind of weapon from the house; securing them up tightly down in the lab. 

Danny doesn’t quite fault his parents for how they're acting right now. Years and years of research only to learn that everything they have built their lives on is a lie. At the same time though he hoped that all of this could have been a much easier situation for everyone. 

“Before we can plan any summer trip away though we need to figure out a way to deal with the GIW. They’ve been much more active lately, and I’ve seen more and more trucks leaving Amity this past week.” Danny needed to talk about anything other than his parents right now. 

“You think they’re setting up shop somewhere else now?” Tucker questions, already pulling out his laptop. 

“Where would they even move to? They’re already in the most haunted city in America.” Sam gives Tucker a slight nudge, “Mind looking up the second most haunted city?” 

"New Orleans." 

"Yeah, that tracks." Sam peers over Tucker's shoulder to look at his screen, "Think you can finally hack your way into their systems?" 

"You're only talking to the second greatest hacker," He cracks his knuckles before beginning to type, "I'll have us inside in a matter of minutes, and with what Technus and I have been doing lately they won't have any clue we were even there to begin with." 

Despite already knowing what his friend is going to say he still asks, "Second? Who's the first then?”

"If you don't know Danny then I haven't been talking about them enough. Don't worry though I already have a presentation I can show you about why Oracle is the greatest hacker." 

"Nope, I'm good." 

"That's what I thought next time don't-" Tucker cuts himself off as he shouts, "I'm in!" 

Immediately, both Sam and him are moving to see the screen. "Search for anything that talks about moving or new locations."

"Really think it's gonna be that easy?" Sam asks, "That obviously marked down for anyone to find?" 

"If their filing system is anything like my parents, then yes." 

She seems to be thinking about it for a moment before nodding to herself, "That's fair." 

"Got a match with 'new location'. Anyone want to place a bet on where they're going before I open it up?" Tucker grins as his finger hovers over the search hit. 

"Hopefully somewhere cool since Danny is definitely going to drag us there to check the place out." 

"Well you're free to stay behind and miss out on all the fun then, Sam." He laughs at the playful glare she shoots at him, "Open it up Tucker! Let's find out where these guys are going." 

With one click a file was opened and right there at the very top it read: Protocols for new location — Gotham. 

The world really does hate him, Danny thinks to himself. Of all the places the GIW could have picked they just had to pick the one place he desperately wanted to avoid. It was already going to be hard enough staying off the GIW's radar, and now he'll have to plan to stay off the bats' as well. Which Danny was already admitting to himself was a plan doomed to fail from the start. 

He needs to stop the GIW though, "Does it mention anything about what they’re wanting to do there?"

Tucker nods and points to a specific area to screen, "It seems like they’re looking for something called a revenant that’s been detected in the area. They mention it several times throughout all this. Priority number one it’s been listed as."

"Revenant?" Sam asks. 

"A person who has returned from the dead." Danny answers her, "Good to know that all those books Clockwork had me read are actually helpful." 

"And this is different from what you are, how?" 

"I'm both alive and dead right now, this revenant died and is now alive again. They don't quite have a full core though — more of a baby core — which I guess is enough for the GIW to want to capture them." It seems not even being completely alive again is enough to keep the GIW away.Danny can't help but think about how many people they must have taken.

As if sensing his thoughts Tucker turns from the screen, and places a hand on Danny's shoulder, "Are you sure you want to get involved with whatever they’re doing in Gotham?" 

"I- I need to at least warn whoever this revenant that they're being hunted. To give them information about who is after them. I would have given anything to have a friendly stranger answer all my questions." He admits. 

"Seems like we'll be going to that planetarium after all then, huh?" 

Danny is honestly a little shocked at the laugh that creeps out of him, "I guess we will won't we? Might as well see the sites while we're there." 

"Oh! Maybe you'll run into your doppelganger too!" Tucker exclaims, "I'd love to see just how similar you two are in person." 

"I hope not, it's bad luck after all to meet your own doppelganger. Combine that with my Fenton luck, and you can bet on it that if I see Damian Wayne I'm running in the opposite direction. I don't need that in my life right now." Danny assumes that his friends think that he's joking, but if he does run into his twin he's booking it.   

It doesn't take them long after that to get a semi figured out plan sorted. They have a vague idea of where to find the revenant due to the file, mostly likely to be found in a place called Crime Alley. How they're going to find their mystery person he doesn't know, but Danny is hoping that dead recognizes dead will handle that part. 

The hardest part of all this is getting their parents' permission. It's a bit of a back and forth with getting Tucker and Sam's parents to agree to their impromptu travel plans, but they agree in the end. 

Danny on the other hand hesitates over contacting his own parents, and so he doesn't. He sends a text to Jazz to let her know the full situation around why he's going to be spending some time in Gotham. With how little his parents and him are interacting they might not even know he was even gone in the first place. 

With the soonest flight booked the trio this time tomorrow afternoon are boarding the plane to Gotham. 

[undreaming-fanfiction]

The Corroded Coffin used to think they'd be the new Metallica or Judas Priest. But where their passion and hard work never lacked, their big break just never came.

What did come, however, was an unexpected change of their career path.

It started innocently enough - they went through yet another failed meeting with recording studios, they'd travelled pretty far and it was for nothing. Instead of going back to Hawkins and risking another one of Eddie's road rages, they decided to break into an abandoned house and drink their sorrows away.

That is, until their empty bottles started collecting themselves, something invisible touched Gareth's shoulder and the dusty floor started showing written messages.

Jeff wanted to flee. Gareth to faint. But Eddie and Freak just shrugged. Eddie gestured towards the approximate ghost location and said "by the power of I don't give a shit anymore, I compel you to sit down and stop it, we'll clean the bottles when we leave tomorrow."

The rattling stopped. There was a moment of silence when the Corroded Coffin actually thought it had worked, but then the ghost overcame its shock and physically threw Eddie, his bandmates and their things out.

They sat on the wet grass for a while and contemplated their whole exitence. Eddie was pretty shaken about the whole thing because he'd just managed to royally piss off a ghost and lived to tell the tale. But apart from absolutely terrifying...it was also fun?

And his friends seemed to think the same. Jeff patted his shoulder and said: "not bad for a first touch with the unknown, huh?"

They stayed in the area and tried again. They decided to tape over their promotional video - not so great, they had to admit after rewatching it - and started documenting their ghostly encounters. And maybe it was just the timing, maybe it was their interactions and personalities, but it worked. They showed some of their tapes to a local TV station and they got a cautious yes, more than they ever had with their music.

They got assigned a small crew, Fred with a camera and Chrissy for sound, wrote their own episodes and did plenty of research. And they got to try quite a lot of different approaches with their ghostly friends. Eddie was amazing at taunting the ghosts, making them appear if there were any present. Gareth had a wonderfully calming presence, managing to save the CC's ass several times. Jeff was the brains, he made sure they'd always know the history of the house and the probable identity of the ghost. And Freak decided to dabble in the occult sciences with a terrifying precision. There could never be enough salt in Eddie's van for all the circles he made.

It all went well until they learned of the Creel House in Hawkins. They went there, did their research and before entering the house, they ordered some pizza for dinner. They assumed it would be over by midnight, thinking it was just another sad story of an unresolved murder, but the ghost of Henry Creel was out for blood.

Oh, and he also controlled the spiders of the house. That was new.

To set the scene: The crew had fled the house about an hour ago. Eddie was crouching behind an old table, blocking Henry's barrage of kitchen knives, shouting "IS THIS THE BEST YOU'VE GOT?!". Gareth was behind the table with Eddie, but he went more into the wailing territory with "I DON'T THINK THIS WILL HELP YOU MOVE ON, HENRY!". Jeff had blocked himself in the pantry and kept trying to identify the triggering moment - "I think he's re-enacting the murder of his mother, guys! Does that help?!" (it doesn't). And Freak gave up on salt circles and was now tossing handfuls of salt around the house with a questionable technique but unwavering determination.

Suddenly, a car horn.

Then, a bitchy male voice: "Are you coming to get your pizza or what? I have other customers to get to!"

Eddie gritted his teeth as Henry added heavy pans to the mix and hit his shoulder. "We're a little busy surviving here! Ask Chrissy to pay you!"

There was a muffled and annoyed "ugh" from behind the door and then: "Is it Henry again?"

Eddie just blinked. Gareth was more ready to answer: "Sure is! He's not a fan of our exorcism!"

And the pizza guy didn't leave. He just huffed and said something that sounded suspiciously like "amateurs".

Eddie wanted to punch him.

But before he could do that, the front door opened. Gareth held his breath, half expecting a sound of knives hitting their target.

Instead, they heard a few more steps and then: "What the fuck, Henry?!"

A faint whispering reached their ears, but they couldn't decipher it. But the pizza guy could.

"I don't care they didn't get your permission, Henry. Yeah, it's annoying, but what are you going to do? If more people die in this house, it's going to get demolished. You know that. Yeah, I know the house is old, but it's great for your spiders, right? They'd be homeless. Do you want to make your spiders homeless, Henry?"

They dared to peek from behind the table, and Eddie had to pinch himself. Because in the middle of the dusty dining room stood one of the prettiest young men Eddie had ever seen, hands on hips and arguing with something invisible.

The man completely ignored them.

"That's what I thought. Now, apologize. No, they can't hear you, so get creative."

All four CC members stared as words formed in the spilled salt: "SORRY".

The pizza guy seemed to be pleased. "Good job, Henry. Now, let me get them out of here and I promise I'll get the Party to bring you some new spiders when they capture them outside, yeah? Three knocks, slide them in a glass behind the door. Got it. Take care, Henry."

Only then did he look at Eddie and the others and frowned. "That's your cue to leave. Get your stuff and go, now." And as they were quickly collecting their scattered notes and recording equipment, he added: "and say goodbye when leaving. Don't be rude."

Four rushed "Bye, Henry!" and "Sorry, Henry"s later, the Corroded Coffin was standing on the grass outside, feeling the setting sun on their skin and smelling fresh pizza. Gareth promptly paid for the delivery, and everyone proceeded to thank their mysterious savior.

"I'm Steve," he said after they'd all expressed their thanks, "and you're stupid. Do you really do this without anyone who sees and hears them? Do you just stumble blindly into haunted houses for a fun and stabby time?"

Eddie had to swallow down a very bitchy response of his own. "Sorry to stroke your ego even more, pretty boy, but a man of your talents is hard to come by."

And Steve, to Eddie's massive shock, just cocked his head and fluffed his hair, probably out of habit, but damn. "Well, consider yourself lucky because I'm open to job offers," he said with a wink that brought Eddie back into his teenage fantasies. "You need someone like me, and I assume you pay better than pizza delivery. Do you?"

Turns out, their producer was willing to get one more person on board, especially when they finished processing the leftover footage from the Creel house.

Steve was an amazing addition. He was snarky, self-confident, easy to look at and most of all, he was fun and compassionate. Watching him communicate with ghosts of kids and help them move on made Eddie's icy heart melt.

But one day they were on a site of an unfortunate teenage death, Steve was chatting with the ghost of a 17 year old girl like they'd known each other for ages, he was laughing, cracking jokes, and then:

"No, he hasn't kissed me yet."

Eddie turned around on his heel and stared at Steve, snickering to himself and talking to a misty figure next to him. And worst of all, they were both staring right at Eddie.

"Hasn't even asked me out, no. You'd think he'd be interested, but I guess I'm doing something wrong."

And Eddie's head short-circuited, and all the repressed fantasies from nights next to Steve in their trailer came back with vengeance. He howled and threw himself at Steve, kissing him right on that bitchy mouth. "Doing something wrong?! Steven Harrington, those shorts of yours are doing everything right, but how about you say something, huh?!"

Steve returned the kiss to the cheering of the CC guys, Chrissy's clapping and Fred's disgusted noise, and shrugged when they broke apart. "I knew you'd get it, eventually. Oh, and Heather?" he turned to the ghost. "You're the best wingwoman ever, in this life and after."

Four good things came from this ghostly encounter:

After the kiss, Gareth finally gathered enough courage to ask Chrissy out. She said yes.

The episode with Heather became the most watched episode of the CC's show.

Steve and Eddie remained in an equally blissful and teasing relationship for the rest of their lives.

And finally...

The TV station decided to design official merch for the CC's show: incredibly short shorts that said on the backside: "DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT".

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

Tag List

@wheneverfeasible @the-dark-hearts @sofadofax @wrenisfangirling @whatfinestandsfor @lilpomelito @raisedbylibrarians @ollyxar @mugloversonly @xxbottlecapx @hezaaxdexangelous @kimsnooks @that-one-gay-crow @travelingtwentysomething @shoujo-wizard @stripey82 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @cr0w-culture @notaqueenakhaleesi @bookworm0690 @r0seprincess @estrellami-1 @little-annie @dreamercec @tinyplanet95 @rawrx3ky-txt @bexinator3000 @justalittledrainbamage @scarletyeager @themoonagainstmers @yesdangerpls @mydysfunctionallife @maverickricky @silentiumdelirium @i-amthepizzaman @samsoble @foolishness-and-confusion @dragonmama76 @gregre369 @thewickedkat @lexr86 @martinskis-lydias

[quickestgold]

Goodbye, My Lover | Part 2 | The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader x Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch

Chapter 2: Please Forgive Me

Synopsis: When Robby and Jack find you, old wounds reopen, as guilt and regret threaten to tear apart what’s left of your fractured relationships. As your hearts reconnect in an unexpected moment of closeness, long-buried feelings begin to resurface and the possibility of forgiveness feels closer than ever.

Warnings: Age gap is around 18 years. This series will deal with some heavy themes around a physical attack, death, grief, ptsd, panic attacks, s*icidal tendencies, heartbreak >>> comfort at the end, I promise

Word count: 1463

A/n: How are you even supposed to choose between these two, like hello? Anyway, we'll find out soon won't we... Next chapter is heavyyy

Previous Chapter (1): I Love You | Next Chapter (3): I Forgive You

Robby and Jack find you slumped in an alley, unmoving, propped against the cold building facade.

Jack is instantly by your side, rubbing your sternum forcefully, desperate for a response, anything.

Robby's fingers press against the side of your neck, terrified of what he might find, or not. "Y/N?" He opens your eyelids, blinding you with a penlight.

You groan, barely audible “Stop.”

“Y/N, you with us?” Jack huffs, ridden with anxiety.

“I’m fine.” You say louder, pushing their hands away.

Relief washes over them, but it doesn't last long.

“Did you take something?” Robby scans the ground for anything that might explain this.

“What? No”, you plead, offended by the suggestion.

“What happened?” Jack's voice is softer now.

You blink, taking in your surroundings, not really sure yourself. “I must’ve passed out.”

Neither of the men speak, unsure whether to confess how badly they were spiralling when they couldn’t find you. Was it even their place to worry?

“I’m just so done”, you interrupt their thoughts.

“With what?” Robby inquires too quickly.

“Everything. This job. This hospital. Maybe this city.”

“This life?” Jack states flatly.

The bluntness shocks you. Robby as well, but he wonders too.

“N- No. You know I wouldn’t.” You stare into Jack's eyes, pleading for something unknown. Not after everything you’d gone through. You really wouldn’t. Does he believe you?

Jack turns his gaze away from you, as to somehow escape the conversation that had been building between you for a long time. Waiting to break. His mouth twists downwards. A tear gathers in his eye, the pain of losing you creeping in. There were a couple of close calls on the tours you spent together, but the day he nearly lost you, broke him.

Robby knows some of the details of your relationship, but the depth of the pain and unresolved sadness between you leaves him speechless.

The tension is palpable. It’s only now, in this moment, that you all realize how much you’ve hurt each other without even meaning to.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Both of you”, your eyes flicker to Robby’s.

The moment lingers in heavy silence.

“Why did you come back here?” Robby asks.

You wonder whose idea it was to search for you here. Probably Jack, right? His ability to keep a clear head and to stay calm in the most impossible situations always shocked you. But equally, his stoic demeanor drove you crazy, especially when it came to letting you in and dealing with your past together.

Maybe it was Robby. Robby would panic, but then analyse the situation at hand and find a solution. Always.

Now you needed to know.

“How did you find me?” You ask, disregarding their earlier question.

“Dana”, they answer in perfect unison.

You give a soft smile and though the situation is heavy, it’s enough to make Robby and Jack’s hearts melt. The warmth in your eyes brings an unexpected tenderness, like a comforting embrace for the soul and before they can help it, both of them smile too.

You sit in the peaceful silence, the weight of everything feeling just a little bit lighter, as though the past has softened its grip on you all.

But all too soon, reality creeps back in.

“I didn’t know you come back here often", Jack's face grows serious again. "It seems… painful."

“Sometimes", you admit. "When I need to convince myself that an alley is just an alley...”

Talking about it hurts, but pretending it didn't happen is just as difficult. For them too.

You feel your hands tremble again, instinctively pulling them closer to your chest. But Robby notices, closing the distance between you and offering his shoulder. It’s the same comfort he always gave you, like second nature.

When he walked away, the void he left was unbearable.

But now he’s here.

You sink your forehead into the crook of his neck, taking slow, cleansing breaths. His familiar scent floods you, a quiet reminder of all the unexpressed love.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you”, Robby whispers, as you melt deeper into him, your heartbeat syncing with his.

Slowly, the panic subsides.

Jack watches you both, eyes hard, fighting his own memories.

It's an unusually quiet shift. The eerie kind where everyone's on edge, waiting for something to break.

You and Jack work a couple of cases together, like you usually do.

You were always a great team. Made each other better in ways few people understood. But Robby did. He always respected your deep bond, even when you and Robby were dating. It's the kind that runs deeper than friendship, deeper than love, it's survival. Maybe it's because Robby and Jack share their own connection, a brotherhood built on mutual trust and support.

Your breakup with Jack was mutual, the weight of your shared history and trauma made it inevitable. You both walked away, at different points, caught in your own separate battles. You saved lives together, but you also lost them. And in the process, you lost parts of yourselves too. You both gave so much to everyone else, there was nothing left to give each other. It wasn't anyone's fault.

Still, you can’t help but feel like it was yours. Like you destroyed something great. Not just with Jack, but with Robby too.

The breakup with Robby really tested everything. Words were said, hearts broken and neither of you knew how to navigate this new reality. Somehow, Jack found himself in the middle and all of you blamed yourselves.

You weren’t the one who left this time, but maybe you pushed Robby too hard, pressured him to open up when he wasn’t ready.

So you accepted Robby's decision and watched him leave.

You wonder if he expected you to fight for him, to not let him go so easily.

That day in the ER, Robby snaps at you. In front of everyone. In front of Jack.

Jack’s breath hitches, trying hard not to intervene. To say something. Why wouldn't he? It's you. But he doesn't. And for that he'd never forgive himself.

It's not rational. But later, when you're lying in that hospital bed, machines and monitors beeping in a faint rhythm, their minds force them to dissect every little detail that led up to what happened. As if that could somehow undo it.

“I am your attending. You are a resident. When I tell you to do something, you do it", Robby barks. "If you can't respect that, then maybe this hospital isn’t for you.”

You just look at him, incredulous. But he continues, louder.

“You’re acting like a fucking child!” Regret washes over him as soon as the words leave his mouth.

You rip off your gloves with a snap, glancing at Jack, daring - no - willing him to speak up. But part of you is glad he doesn't. This is between you and Robby. Deep down you know it isn’t personal, but it still hurts, so you decide to give both of you space.

“Dr. Robinavitch”, you say before walking out, unaware how that split decision would lead to you almost losing your life.

All three of you now lean against the building facade, a comforting familiarity between you.

Your breathing has steadied, but your eyes are still glazed. You look up at Robby. For a moment, you are back to being his. And he yours. He gives you a soft smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and your heart nearly bursts, memories rushing back.

You remember kissing every freckle on his forehead, tracing the lines of his skin. He always thought they made him look old. You agreed, which made him laugh. But you also thought they made him look kind. How fitting.

A shaky gasp cuts through your thoughts. Jack drops his head, one hand pressing against his eyes, desperate to hide the pain that tears through him.

“Jack?” You whisper, reaching for him.

Jack lets out a quiet sob, fighting every urge not to fall apart in front of you. He can't.

You grab both of his wrists, grounding him with your presence as you pull him into your chest. His head rests gently against your heart, a silent promise that he will always be part of it.

“Hey", you tilt your head, searching for his eyes. "I'm here."

Maybe you love him differently now, but the ache in your chest tells you that some bonds can't be broken.

“Please forgive me,” he begs, his voice breaking, as the weight of his pain truly hits you.

Thanks for reading part 2!! Oh boi, this was a sad one… and it’s only getting worse before it gets better is all I’m gonna say hehe. Pls share your thoughts, I love reading your comments!!

PS: Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist: ♡

@queenslandlover-93 @sp00kylesley @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sqrlgrl22 @imonmykneessir @gabsgabsvaz

[angelsndragons]

how's it going, veilguard peeps? one of my favorite headcanons and theories is

the caretaker = felassan

and i'm gonna run down the (admittedly thin, heavy conjecture/inference) evidence we have supporting the theory.

spoilers ahead but first!

AnD, i hear you say, didn't Solas kill Felassan in The Masked Empire? Isn't that one of his great regrets?

fear not, fellow fans.

1. solas killed felassan In The Fade. that's kind of an important caveat. da2 established that mages killed in the fade become tranquil, they aren't outright killed. put a pin in this, we'll come back to it.

2. spirits, particularly ancient spirits, can fracture into different fragments upon death, some with their own personalities, experiences, and beliefs. we have falon'din and dirthamen, the two mythal fragments, solas' wisdom friend in dai, etc.

the point is that the ancient elves don't die easily and while felassan is probably not among the first generation of elves, he is still an ancient elf. we don't know if he was a spirit who gained a body or one of the first elves fully born in and of thedas. we do know that distinction matters very little, given that ghilan'nain was definitely of the later generation and yet she rose to become a god.

Okay, sure, AnD, but what does that have to do with Felassan and the Caretaker?

timeline:

felassan's notes are all over the crossroads and the lighthouse. not once does he mention the caretaker. even in the post-veil notes, the caretaker is not mentioned. the first time we Know that the caretaker has moved in to the crossroads and the lighthouse is from solas (we know it's from solas because of the paint):

This note has a smear of paint on one corner: Have they always been here? There are beings in the Crossroads unknown even to the wise, though the most ancient ones make any domain their own. Certainly, this Caretaker belongs here now. I wonder what we look like to them. Need is a scaffold, and the needs of the living ever rise and fall upon it. Hunger, thirst, sleep... imagine the constant cacophony to one sensitive to such things. Or am I too simple? Wants are fleeting; needs have deeper roots. Perhaps that's why I find this particular spirit's presence both comforting and disconcerting. The prospect that our heart's desire and our truest need could differ—or are even at odds—is hard to contemplate.

so sometime after he woke up in 9:39-9:40 dragon, solas made his way back to the lighthouse. he wonders whether the caretaker has always been in the lighthouse or if they are a more recent addition. whichever is the truth, solas immediately clocks them as ancient, comforting, and disconcerting.

now, as for when solas first encounters the caretaker, i'm going out on a limb to say that this encounter occurred after trespasser. we know solas carved his regrets out of himself via the paintings and statues to ensure he wasn't accidentally grabbed by his regret prison while moving the remaining gods. the office note states that he figured out his "perfect reparation" by studying the inquisitor's arm.

this is important because solas kills felassan in 9:40, leaving a gap of time where a fragment could reform and regain enough power to manifest once again.

so we've established a theoretical timeline in which felassan could have fragmented into the caretaker. now let's take a look at some links.

You are safe here, both those of flesh and those of Fade. Any who wish to help are welcome. The magic of the Lighthouse will provide for your needs, see to your comfort, and even help you understand different tongues, for those who escaped here from distant parts of the empire. Should you have any other needs, ask for the Slow Arrow, and I will help.

so i just want to highlight something here. felassan tasked himself with caring for the slaves and potential new rebels. he is explicitly linked over and over again with seeing to other people's well-being, with explicit concern for the innocent. it is his number 1 character trait outside of being solas' second. this man cares. he also specifically cares for solas, many of his codex entries include asides about solas' state of mind or words of comfort to his friend.

the caretaker tells rook that they "go where [they are] needed." felassan's notes on the vi'revas say "thus, we can travel wherever this rebellion needs us, with no fear of pursuit."

one of the caretaker's travel comments is "as needed," in response to rook's question if they're one spirit doing everything or multiple. aka the caretaker we know could be a fragment.

their first acts are to help rook navigate the crossroads, where felassan's notes are scattered all over the place. where elven spirits and fade spirits alike have come to take refuge from the gods, much like the ancient entry above. only this time, there is no solas and apparently no felassan. just a caretaker and a bunch of guardians. guardians which, according to bellara, are powered by spirits set to guard something. so like, fractured echoes or remnants of the original rebellion, is what i'm getting at. much like how the lighthouse is fractured, the veil broke the world and the fade, etc.

the caretaker holds dominion over the crossroads. they also say at the beginning that they do not have the power to help rook more due to the state of the crossroads. the spreading blight and weaponization of the wolf's regrets are leeching power from the place and the caretaker. the rune rook receives at the end of the game is called the salvation of felassan and its power is dictated by how much of the crossroads quest line the player completed.

however i would argue the strongest evidence that felassan fractured into the caretaker is thus: remember way back in the beginning of this monstrosity i said that felassan was murdered in the fade? remember how da2 establishes that mages killed in the fade become tranquil via feynriel? and remember how it's dwarves, innately tranquil because they are cut off from the titans, and tranquil mages who enchant objects in the previous titles?

remind me who's doing the enchanting in this game again?

that's a rhetorical question.

it's the caretaker.

yeah, just think about it for a second.

a spirit has been sundered from the fade enough that they can enchant items and even abilities.

felassan was an ancient elf murdered in the fade.

yeah.

i love this game.

[snowflakeanrika]

A meeting 3

Do you feel guilty?

Do you remember their promise?

Your parents' promise?

"We'll never leave you alone, ____! What makes you think of that, hun?" She said, cupping the child's face.

"Who dares to spread rumours about my child? I'll beat them!" He said, playfully punching the air.

The child giggled. "I'm just kidding! I love you, m̴o̶m̷ ̸a̴n̸d̵ ̵d̶a̴d̶!"

It's a shame, is it not?

A promise is merely a fleeting moment to let you make sure you're in check.

Promise?

It exists not.

Not to you.

"M̶o̴m̴ ̷a̸n̸d̷ ̶d̸a̷d̵, who is this?" The child asked, pointing at the unknown other child in front of you.

"Oh, hun, this is your s̴i̵b̸l̶i̵n̵g̸!" The woman responded to the child.

"Huh? But... You promised to love me forever..." The child said.

"Don't be so selfish, hun. Besides, who told you that we won't love you anymore?" The woman reassured the child.

"O-okay..." The child whispered, fiddling with their fingers.

The child knew what was to come to them.

Yet, they believed their parents' lies.

"M̶o̵m̴, I got an A!" The child happily ran back into the house, showing the piece of paper to the woman.

"That's great, hun..." Yet, the woman only kept her eyes locked onto the screen.

"Mommy... I... didn't do so well..." The other child held out the paper to the woman.

"Oh, hunny, there's nothing to be sad about! How about this? We'll go to a restaurant tomorrow to cheer you up!" The woman said, holding the other child's hands.

"Okay, mommy!" The other child said.

"M̸-m̷o̴m̸... But I-" The child walked closer to the woman.

"Hush now. What's so good about an A, anyway? It's about the thought and effort put into it. Be more modest!" The woman said, waving her hand off the child.

Is this a test to prove your loyalty?

You'll be sure to win their hearts!

"D̶a̸d̷!̴ Look! I designed a gun! What do you think?" The child brought the drawing to the man.

"Oh, my silly child. You should be studying, not thinking about guns!" The man said.

"D̶a̸d̷, but-" The child spoke.

"Dad, I drew a bag!" The other child ran towards the man.

"Oh, wow, honey! You could be a designer when you grow up!" The man held the drawing up to him.

"See, you should be like your sibling. Be more mature!" The man lectured the child.

...y-you'll try...

...to get into their hearts.

As the gate closes in front of the now adult child, they sob sadly as the rain pours down on them.

...you, working with the Mafia?

Just what your 'good' sibling said to your parents?

Five men holding black umbrellas stand far behind the scenes, watching the show happen.

"Should we do something, Boss Man?" A man wearing a hat with the golden text 'Contractee' written in cursive carved on it said.

"..." The well-dressed man with a fedora looks at the crying person.

Pitiful...

"Like... Should we... Help Mx. ____? After all, they're the ones to help us catch our most wanted target." The Contractee says.

The well-dressed man held out a hand to signal the Contractee to stop talking for a moment. "Consigliere, thoughts?" He called.

"It's not the best time, Sir. Mx. ____ has just been abandoned by their family, and we're the main reason for it. Even though they only helped us by accident AND without knowing it, Mx. ____ might think we orchestrated everything." The man with the blue shimmer text 'Consigliere' written on his trusty sword says.

"Just keep an eye on ____, and strike when the moment is right." 'Boss Man' says. "They'll be back up their feet soon, I'm sure. ____'s not the type to back down because of something."

"A-alright, Boss Man..." The Contractee says, looking back at the crying figure.

The figure has stopped crying. They stood up, wobbly and out of energy.

"Fuck you all... FUCK YOU ALL! I'LL TAKE BACK WHAT I'VE GIVEN FOR THE FAMILY, UNTIL NONE OF IT IS LEFT!" They shouted. "I SACRIFICED MY TIME- SLEEPLESS NIGHTS AND BUSY MORNINGS JUST TO KEEP THIS STUPID PLACE SAFE AND AFLOAT!"

"AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?!" They seethed in rage.

"Everything I've worked for... I'll take them back. ONE. BY. ONE." They said.

The figure dragged their body to the once that barricaded intruders from their home, now just a mere obstacle to block their way to ruining their family's? lives. Grabbing the gates and tearing one of the bars away, they threw it to one of the biggest and expensive windows.

It shattered as the members inside gasped, running upstairs to see the issue as the culprit that caused the damage ran into the forest.

"This bunny relies on emotions to really get their strength... Or maybe the gates are too weak." 'Boss Man' says. He beckons the four men behind him with a wave of the hand. "After them."

The five men ran towards the direction the crying figure had headed to. The members inside the house were debating on who was going to pay the price.

"You're not going anywhere with us on you, ____."

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

"Eat up, darling. You're not going to starve here." Mafioso lifts the plate closer to your mouth.

...maybe it might not be bad to engage in the Mafia-?

Everyone continued to talk and enjoy the pizza together. You reluctantly nibbled away on the pizza, your mind slowly drifting away from the present.

This... doen't feel so bad.

This feels good.

Wait.

You aren't supposed to feel like this.

You're supposed to feel anguish.

Anguish because they are the ones who ripped everything away from you.

You're supposed to feel resentment.

Resentment of your parents' betrayal of you.

You're supposed to feel nothing.

Because you are nothing without your parents' support.

You are nothing without your friends' help.

You are nothing without anyone.

You are nothing without yourself.

"Mx.____?" The Soldier of the Mafia took notice of your dazed expression. With no response from you, he looked at his boss.

"Boss Mafioso..." His voice trailed off.

Mafioso looked at him, giving the 'yes?' expression. The Soldier pointed at you, and your face looked seemingly dazed. It all looks normal before your eyes start to flood with salty tears and your breathing increases.

You've long set the pizza plate on your lap, your hand on your cheek as you stare off into nothing. Your tears dropped onto the plate, and your breathing started to become uneven, but you didn't even seem to notice or care about anything.

"...! Baby?" Mafioso shook your body. With each passing second you didn't respond, he only shook harder.

That only lasted for about 5 seconds before you jumped back into your normal self again. "W-Wha-?" You looked around.

"Oh, thank goodness..." Mafioso let out a breath of relief.

The henchmen were all paying attention to you by the time you came back to your senses. They took the plate of pizza from your lap and set it on the table.

"Are you okay, Mx. ____?" The Consigliere asked, about to grab some water or medication for you.

"Huh? I'm okay! What happened?" You asked, looking at all of them.

"You were crying, bunny." Mafioso said, using his gloved hands to hold your cheeks, wiping the tears away.

"Huh??" You raised an eyebrow, raising one of your hands to touch your cheek after prying one of Mafioso's hands away.

It was wet. You really did cry.

"I-I don't-" You wanted to say something to pry their attention away from you.

Guess who decided to be a bitch today? Your brain.

Your brain replayed all of the pain, the tears, the betrayal-

You can't hold it in.

Not like this.

Not if they're acting like they care.

Not if they're actually caring about you.

It hurts.

It hurts, oh so much.

Your heart threatens to squeeze like a lemon.

You feel tears pouring down.

You feel pathetic.

Worthless.

Weak.

"Shh..." A gentle pair of hands picked your body up and nested onto his warm embrace.

You can't control your breath or tears anymore. You sobbed into Mafioso's embrace as he brought your head to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The Contractee and Soldier immediately got on their feet and went to grab some tissue paper, the Consigliere and Caporegime went to grab your favourite things to maybe help you cheer up. Mafioso just sat on the couch with you sobbing into him.

He gently glided his fingers through your hair, his other hand cradling you in his arms. His lips pressed on your forehead, hands, hell, even your neck- it was all peppered with his kisses.

And yet,

It feels like home...

Warm.

Soft.

...

T̴H̵A̴T̴'̸S̶ ̸E̴X̷A̸C̵T̵L̸Y̶ ̴H̵O̷W̶ ̴H̵E̷ ̸W̷A̶N̵T̴E̶D̵ ̴Y̴O̷U̸ ̴T̴O̶ ̸F̶E̶E̷L̵

His henchmen came back with the tissues and your stuff (don't ask where they got it from), giving them all to their boss.

After all, they don't want their boss's partner to be sad, right?

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

"Has ____ slept yet?" Mafioso asked, looking at his henchmen.

"Sleep and sound, Boss." The Caporegime said.

"Good." He said, facing the windows to a certain house's direction.

"Boss, when are we going to tell them...?" The Caporegime asked.

"...until they've gained enough trust in us."

The henchmen stayed silent, sitting on the chairs provided inside their boss's office. They can understand the longing and pain of their boss. It's not every day that a survivor can accept them as family.

They hope... you can get used to this.

[dauhtrofsevnthshe]

(not 100% sure if my ask sent since my internet sucks… but once more just in case-)

young!arthur having his true first time w young!reader (arthur is around 22, reader is like 19. both are in the gang)

obv arthur has slept w prostitutes before this, but they had always done all the work. now, when arthur is actually about to have sex w someone, the guy has little to no clue what he’s doing 😭

TYSM IF YOU DO IT <3333

tags ͡˚̣̣̣𓎟𓎟　 mdni nsfw　 femreader　 arthur has no ides what he's doing 　 you don't either　 a.m ౨ৎ ⋆ ｡ ˚

arthur morgan. a young, rugged, and outlawish man merely in his early twenties. he was young, but he was so free, running away from lawmen as swift as an arrow, being too quick and witty to catch proper. although he may not have the silver tongue from his old mentor, dutch, but he has the wit to run away subtly, like his other mentor, hosea. despite his rough and callous appearance, he wasn't unknown to women and... working women. in fact, many of the girls wouldn't tease each other on who could get a certain cowboys attention.

they would all lead the intimacy, arthur would lie down on the cot and take it, since that's what working girls were paid to do, right? and he'd let them do their work, over and over. he'd pay well, and god, did they always make him feel good, no doubt about it. how he'd lay on the hotel bed as the women would unbutton his blue shirt in such a slow, teasing way─ then again, this was just again to take his mind off mary. damn that women...

that all changed once he met you. oh, how he was head over heels in love with you for days until he confessed that he was sweet on you, and even so, you've never seen a burly man get so flushed over you!

you were younger, nineteen, to be exact. knowing this, arthur was unsure of how to act around you, too nervy and in love. that journal of his was filled of pages with ur sktehced face. he was a little scared of physical contact until you initiated it first and now he's arm is never seen away from being around your waist. he was soo nervous to even kiss you incase you didnt want to:( he was just scared of making you uncomfortable since that's the last thing he wanted to do.

“'m sorry, honey... i never really done this before.”

“thank goodness, i haven't done this either. we'll just.. take it slow?”

despite the maany times you've told him that he's fine, that he's doing well, you can tell he was still a little anxious of doing something wrong, he wanted this to be right for you, he just wanted to make you feel... well, good. this might be this first time, but he wanted to impress you badly.

and oh.

oh.

this was like your own slice of heaven. he was so good despite that he no idea what he was doing. the way he held you with such delicacy. his hands weren't firm they were gentle, he didn't want to hurt you, he wouldn't know how to act if he did. his hands would trace up and down your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. his callous were rough and yet his touch was tenderly with you. he took his sweet time with you, arthur was determined to work his feelings within you even if he wasn't sure if he was doing well, he had to make sure.

“does that.. feel good, sweetheart?” “that okay, darlin'?” “hope i ain't too rough fir ya.” “yer so good to me, yer a good girl.”

“mhm─ oh, arthuurr.. feels so good, oh my god─”

and that's exactly what he wanted to hear.

[yandereunsolved]

» 🪙 Yandere Connor — RK800 » 🪙 (part 2)

➜ (part 1), (part 3) ➜ cw(s): yandere themes, kidnapping, self-harm mentioned (reader), starvation (reader), suicidal ideations (reader), force feeding, & manipulation ➜ tags: @bimboghostface, @savas-q1, & @aceofheartsssss

You have screamed your voice raw in hopes that some unknown savior will take pity. You have cried your tear ducts dry until your eyes swell and become bloodshot. You have cut into your skin with whatever you can find for just a modicum of control. More times than you can count, you have done these things. Each time the consequences increase, but the probability of escaping does not.

Each new place he—it, that thing you dared call your friend and perhaps even your crush, has hid you in has become progressively more dilapidated. Plush armchairs and soft carpets once softened the torture of your solitude; now splintering wooden floors and asbestos-filled walls are left in their wake. Places so damaged you question why Connor chooses them. It should go against his programming, or whatever's left of it.

But why should you care?

He deviated and showed you once again how dangerous unchecked androids are. Now small groups of rebellious preprogrammed code run amok, causing havoc—at least from what little you've been able to gather. Connor isn't keen on informing you of the goings-on of the outside world. He prefers to reassure you, which does little good (because fuck him).

A familiar shuffling behind the door alerts you. Your head snaps up like a startled deer, staring at the door like a predator will come through. He's drenched in blood when he comes in, red blood. His beanie has been lost. His multitude of jackets have tears and bullet holes. But he looks okay for the most part. The word must really hate you.

"I have news that will please you," he murmurs in that babying tone you have snapped at him to stop using.

He approaches you, kneeling down, a bag stuffed into one of his pockets.

"We'll be at a compound soon—one where my kind are able to live freely. And you have been granted access too. It has all of the necessities and even a bit of luxury."

He takes out the bag, unfazed by his own appearance but noting that it's disturbing you. He pulls out a packet of crackers and some applesauce. No. No, no, no, no.

"Connor, please, let me go," you beg with the panic rising in your voice.

You quickly shake your head as tears prick your dry eyes. You fruitlessly kick at him and yank at the chains holding you down to this place. You can feel the bile rising in your throat and the arduous aches in your muscles struggling to keep it held down, struggling to keep you awake.

Other things arise. The regret of being too weak to fend him off. The sorrow in being denied the right to take your own life.

A plastic spoon is inserted into your mouth with the apple mush oozing off it. You try to spit it out, but he wipes your face and more forcefully inserts the next spoonful into you.

"Nutrition is necessary for human survival, to thrive, yet you deprive yourself of it. Convincing me to let you leave would be much easier if you stopped proving that you are unable to care for yourself."

"I just want to go," the soul-crushing defeat evident in your voice.

Without missing a heartbeat of yours, he responds, "You can't. I-I need you here."

He shoves not just one cracker, but three, into your mouth. You almost choke, but he makes sure you are unable to. Maybe it would just be better if you choked on them. Or your vomit. Or even the shitty plastic spoon he keeps forcing into your mouth.

"You're being selfish," you finally manage to get the words out.

"You're being selfish. I have sacrificed the entirety of my being for you. And still you try to harm yourself. Do you hate me that much?"

He retracts the food from you. He stares unceasingly at you. His LED switching from red to colorless, one of the only parts of him that he has kept since his deviancy.

"Do I hate you?" you incredulously, rhetorically question. "Yes! I hate you! Is that what you want to hear? A confession of how much I loathe you for fucking up what little good was in my life?"

The tears well up and escape down your face, getting wiped off by Connor's attentive hands. You can't stop the shaking or the meltdown his presence has placed upon you.

"I hate you. I-I hate you. I h-hate y-you!"

The last syllable is barely out of your mouth when hands come up to cup your face, squishing your cheeks. Still having a meltdown, your teary eyes are just barely able to make out the abnormal pinkish hue on his LED. A color you've never encountered, even with him being deviant these last months—years, whatever.

"I understand," nearly inaudible, "and I suppose I always have. Your human nature causes you to think irrationally. You aren't able to see the 'bigger picture,' as humans call it. You have suffered at my hands. That I apologize for."

The acknowledgment of his transgressions breaks you down further. You can't quiet the wails escaping you, snot dribbling from your nostrils. Your body rocks itself back and forth in a pitiful attempt at comfort. You can't stop. It won't stop. He won't stop.

It validates him. He continues his tirade, sure that it will have the intended pacifying effect.

"I should be more attentive. But I'm so busy making sure that neither of us is caught by the authorities."

Excuses.

"When we get to the compound, all of that will change. You will have a higher standard of care. Me at your side. Your brain will stop merely surviving."

Promises.

"Then your love for me can bloom."

Resolution. His mission completed with you as his lover.

You quiet. He mistakes, or quite possibly dissmisses, your transition from an unfiltered meltdown to a horrified shutdown as an opportunity to cradle you. And for the first time since your kidnapping, you embrace him back—not out of some sweet, loving bond, but out of need. The need for someone else's closeness, touch—affection, even if it's all wrong. The desperation seeps out of you in droves and into your actions. Your mind and body want to claw at his synthetic skin, tear him apart, and thrive off the warmth of his parts.

...

If he can have a mission beyond his own makers, then you can have one beyond your captor's.

[this-is-exorsexism]

I'm so tired.

I'm so tired of constant exclusion from all trans spaces.

What do they even have for nonbinary people like at all? No representation, no research, no inclusion, no support or positivity. Just pure endless fucking hatred, "i don't understand it"-ing, making fun of us and out identities, binarism and exorsexism.

I know that dehumanozation of nonbinary people is awful. And I know that not all of them are alterhuman, therian, non-human or just "creatures". But for me I don't understand how could I ever be NOT dehuminizing myself when my own community treats me like a completely different species. Not even like an animal. More like an unknown creature or just some myth that doesn't really exist. We don't even get included in the whole "trans people" thing.

They all keep telling that "oh it took soooo long for binary trans people to be properly talked about, it will be your turn sometime later" when it's gonna be my fucking turn? With the way it's going both inside and outside trans community I feel like it's much easier to give up and die being excluded than to actually wait.

this is exorsexism.

i will never understand the "wait your turn" thing. nonbinary people as a community are affected by all the same things as binary trans people are + more. nonbinary liberation inevitably leads to liberation for all trans people. "trans liberation" that focuses on binary trans people will still leave us with nonbinary-specific issues at best, but more realistically, we'll continue being treated like binary trans people are now because people love a good double standard. the idea that the more marginalised people within a larger group have to stand at the back of the queue for basic human rights is wild. "got mine" is exactly what trans conservatives like blaire white do even to fellow binary trans people, and some of you all feel way too comfortable pushing that same violence onto nonbinary people.

[pain-in-the-asguardian]

Since his introduction, we've seen that Kid has a strong connection to the overall storyline and other characters. We see his progress post timeskip, even cutting to him during arcs he's not a part of, and he's been in half the total anime openings since his introduction.

As the Supernova who had the highest initial bounty he's set up as a rival to Luffy. While their personalities are opposite, Kid's attacks are shown to mirror Luffy's gear 3 and 4. Based on this it seems likely that he will eventually gain an ability to mirror Gear 5 as well.

He's also got a connection to Vegapunk. It's unclear just what it is currently, but it's important to note that Kid gained his “Punk” naming system and major mechanical creations after we learn about VP. In his childhood art, he's even holding a robot.

His strongest attack, Damned Punk has a very visible 07 on the side, we're shown it several times. When the SH crew reaches Egghead VP explains there are six punks on the island. This seems to indicate there may be more in the world.

The Sea Beast Weapons seem to confirm this, as there are 8 of them. It appears they mirror Vegapunk and his Satellites, but this leaves us with one extra who just happens to look like Kid. It's also worth noting that "Kid's" sea beast is the only one not wearing the eye mask.

With Elbaph unfolding currently, we are seeing a lot of devil imagery. This makes the religious symbolism in Kid's creations all the more fascinating, because they are full of it. The most obvious is the backing of Punk Rotten, which is very clearly matching the cross of Nika.

The skulls of PR and Corna Dio also have spiked halos. For someone who is seen as a monster, Kid certainly uses a lot of heavenly imagery. Will this play a part in the devilish saga currently in play?

Something I just noticed that may or may not be related is that Wire's outfit is different in Elbaph. It reminds me of Renaissance Madonna images. Again, this one may just be coincidence but... It also might not be.

The last point I want to make is that of the Horned God. Punk Corna Dio is based on the heavy metal hand gesture started by artist Dio, but also can be interpreted as Horned God. He could have called it something like Toro Dio, but he didn't.

This isn't the first time we see horned skulls, since both Road and one of the Holy Knights wear them. And then we have Chopper, who turns into a massive horned being. The concept of the Horned God seems to be one we see throughout the series.

Kaido and the Ancient Giants are also horned beings, and now we are seeing horned devils as well. It's interesting to me that the only other Sea Beast weapon to resemble another character just happens to be Chopper, and it's shown next to "Kid".

While Kid's fate is currently unknown, it seems Luffy has taken his fashion decisions from him, going with the belted leather kilt and red feathered coat. Luffy tends to mimic others, so could it be a nod to someone who helped him in Wano?

Additional thoughts: Nika/Joyboy connected to not only liberation but laughter, and now because of Killer's Smile the crew has chosen to laugh along with him. Will they be free of the false happiness forced by the false DFs one day?

Or has Killer found a way to overcome it already? Regardless of circumstance or emotion, he shouldn't be able to *not* smile, as we saw with the people of Wano at Yasui's execution. Yet we see here that he's not. There's a reason we're shown this brief scene.

Finally, we see Demalo Black and co. cosplaying Kid. This means we'll see a confrontation eventually, as in Sabaody. I think Cross Guild may play into freeing the false crew. Funny that Black disparages Joyboy when we see that Kid may be a Nika disciple.

There's a lot of little details about Kid, and individually you might chalk them up to coincidence. But taken together, they really start to add up. His role isn't finished yet, and I believe we'll see him again soon in Elbaph.

Taken from my Twitter thread here!

[xiisblogs]

𝓌𝑜𝓁𝒻 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔

warnings: reader is mostly female, accents are badly written, blood , Read this, or don't complain

A gasp leaves your lips as you wake up in an unknown bed.. your silky dress stained with blood..

Your eyes dart around to check your surroundings.

Ah.. a man with a mask faced you. Fear fills your senses as tears threaten to spill.. were you done for?

Was he going to hurt you?

simmer down hen another man gets in the room, he looks nicer.

w-where am I? the stare of the masked man made you cower a bit

base

aye, ye're richt

Your lips tighten in a firm line.

why.. why am I here?

no ken that ye ken it

Silence fills the room until another man gets in.

she's innocent he looks warm.

confirmed?

yes

A silence exchange passes through them as the masked man and the nice one walk out.

d'you remember what happened before coming here?

you felt sweaty all over now..

I-i just remember hearing fire and I think I f-fainted

He nods

You're safe for now, we'll keep you here.

A few weeks go by since that day. Everyone is good to you, not too hostile. Which reassures you. Everything was going to be fine.

You also got to know their names, or names in code.

Ghost, Soap, Gaz and their Captain..

...

They were so nice.. and unsuspecting, it made you chuckle.

Twelve reporting

Twelve, we thought you were KIA.

Nah, 'm too good for that, least I could do is die at base

You hear some rustling to the side.

Stay alert twelve, report back when you're ready to get taken to base.

A small smile plays on your lips as you neatly put the files in their place.. After all, you were able to fool Task Force 141.

. . .

You still remember very vividly what happened that fateful night. Everything was going smoothly, too smoothly.

And something was terribly wrong.

You could hear loud and clear the fast beating of your heart. You got caught.  Your chances of escaping from this trap varied from 3% to 0%. You fucking felt it. The rescuing, the injured, the kills and the whole plan, there was something fishy and now it was too late.   Your lips pursue together. Footsteps. You click your tongue against your lower lip. You were utterly fucked. Task Force 141 was going to annihilate you.  With a quick plan and agile movements, you were able to get in another woman dress. Silky, pinkish and stained with blood and within a few seconds, you were able to knock yourself out. 

With one last look at the important folder, you walk back in your room..

How will you play Task Force 141 now? :)