s0ulm8s

[guardianofnightmares]

Attack

“And remember: there is enough fuel in those rods for couple of maneuvers and a descent. That’s it.” Blitzwing said in a stern tone while adjusting some screws on minibot’s backplates. “I highly recommend you to not stray far away from your group for too long.”

He knew that his companion was not that reckless to go on adventures of his own on a battlefield, but it’s still difficult not to worry about mechs’ safety. Even if the targeting systems of an Autobots’ flagship "Endeavor" were supposed to be down by the beginning of an operation, its guns would still be working at full capacity.

Chances of being shot by a random plasma beam were still pretty high.

“I know, Blitzwing, I know,” said minibot sighed in defeat. His spirits were not that much higher than everyone else’s lately.

“But hey,” He continued, “Even if I wanted to, I doubt Megacon would allow me to go sightseeing without him… And if I indeed managed to do just that, my fear of withering away from his lecture about my recklessness definitely outweighs the fun of getting into troubles.”

----------

Phew, third entry for the @blitzbee-week event has arrived at last. Prompt of a third day was "Attack", which turned out to be quite an interesting one to create a piece for. Eventually, I've decided to picture a scene of preparations for one of first major battles in a story of mine. Considering a fact that a mentioned scene takes place at the beginning of a second part/volume of a fanfic, I found it to be a good opportunity to show an evolution of relationship between characters (at least in comparison to previous entries).

Fanfic the scene is taken from is called "TFA: Icarus". You can read it by following a [link] for the series "folder" which also includes an existing teaser (future prologue) for a story. The updates are slow, I know, I am sorry for a delay, I was very busy with a job of mine lately and I do not know when the situation will change for better. Despite all of it, I'm still deeply grateful for every subscription and "like" you leave under works for this project of mine. Know that I see and appreciate every kind gesture of yours).

As always, if anyone is interested to know what's going on "behind the scenes" of a picture, I will provide the full snippet of a depicted interaction under a cut line. Hope you'll enjoy it. Especially those of you, who read previous "chapters" of mine, for you might find a reference here to one of them ;)

Bumblebee finally glanced at a Decepticon sitting on his haunches behind his back. The Warframe’s been checking on a Cybertronian analogue of a humans’ “parachute” for the last half of megacycle, trying to secure the massive carcass on a frame it was not meant to be worn by. 

“How’s it looking?” The Bot asked. Not out of vanity, for once, but rather out of practicality - a bleak, outdated “jetpack” was the smallest one they could salvage, and it’s still way too big for a mech of Bumblebee’s proportions. Several kilograms of metal more and it’d have begun to tip a yellow colored Autobot over. 

“… It’ll have to do.” 

A brisk, honest and not so uplifting answer. But, come to think of it, Bumblebee would’ve been more surprised to hear a reassuring comment coming from a Triplechanger. 

A notion that Bumbler was capable of periodically predicting Con’s responses almost made him chortle. The possibility of his team forming a bond with Warframes over the course of a stellar cycle after an escape from Cybertron was improbable at best. And yet, there they were - trying to work as a single unit despite ever present old grudges. 

For a goal they were fighting for together against a common foe was more important than any of their just (and unjust) beliefs. 

“And remember: there is enough fuel in those rods for couple of maneuvers and a descent. That’s it.” Blitzwing said in a stern tone while adjusting some screws on minibot’s backplates. “I highly recommend you to not stray far away from your group for too long.”

He knew that his companion was not that reckless to go on adventures of his own on a battlefield, but it’s still difficult not to worry about mechs’ safety. Even if the targeting systems of an Autobots’ flagship "Endeavor" were supposed to be down by the beginning of an operation, its guns would still be working at full capacity.

Chances of being shot by a random plasma beam were still pretty high.

“I know, Blitzwing, I know,” said minibot sighed in defeat. His spirits were not that much higher than everyone else’s lately.

“But hey,” He continued, “Even if I wanted to, I doubt Megacon would allow me to go sightseeing without him... And if I indeed managed to do just that, my fear of withering away from his lecture about my recklessness definitely outweighs the fun of getting into troubles.”

The last comment earned him a snort from a companion.

“Yes, he tends to do exactly that. You’d be insanely lucky if that was the only punishment coming upon your helm,” Blitzwing agreed in a more lighthearted tone. “Especially since, it seems, Megatron’s already figured out where someone prefers to spend their shift at once in a while.”

“…what do you mean by that?” Bumblebee asked worriedly after a short lived pause - he could almost “see” a smirk plastered across Blitzwing’s faceplates with the back of his own helm. And if he’s learnt anything about a Con over the last orbital cycles, it’s that him being smug never promised anything good for a yellow and black Bot. 

“Let’s just say that if a certain hiding spot is indeed real, I’ll make sure to send you energon treats during a “home arrest” of yours.” Blitzwing mused out loud. A followed groan full of despair, which came from a small mech, made Blitzwing slip an amused laugh. 

And here a minibot hoped that Megatron would be any different than a so-called Bossbot of his. 

---

Soon after the Trpilechanger’s done everything he could in order to make Bumbler’s descent to a flagship safer, a huge figure appeared at an entrance to a bay. Bumbler noticed a newcomer only when a said mech contacted him via personal comlink, voice commanding yet devoid of usual rasp undertones. 

“Time to go, minibot,” Megatron announced, as if wanting to make sure that his arrival was interpreted as a sign to wrap preparations up. It made both Cybertronians to pause their conversation and to look up at an arrived Decepticon. 

The red and grey mech stood with his servos being clasped behind his back, polished shoulder pauldrons proudly shining under a warm artificial light. One of his chest plates bared signs of a recent scuffle at one of remote outposts - the right side was adorned with a fresh wielding patchwork, performed by Ratchet himself, which hid an ugly and deep scar. 

The sight of a quickly healing wound reminded Bumblebee of an amusing memory he’d witnessed in a medbay the other day - Ratchet and Megatron bickering with each other about who’s a true madmech between two of them, while a medic was performing mentioned repairs. The fact that a Warlord received an injury during a rescue of a red and white Autobot, who stayed behind in order to cover their team’s escape, seemed to slip out of both of their processors. Ratchet was nigh unstoppable in his fury, and it seemed that Megatron’s finally found someone who could rival his own stubbornness. Something, all members of a team were certain of, both older mechs secretly admired about each other. 

With raised up spirits, minibot quickly picked up a bag of tools, which laid near a working bench, and waved goodbye to a Triplechanger, who stayed behind to tidy a working place up. 

Blitzwing couldn’t hear what his two comrades were talking about while standing at an exit to a bay, but he could still observe the interaction between them. 

The height difference between mechs was ridiculous. It became especially obvious when Megatron lowered himself to a ground in order to access electronic panel of a “jetpack”, while Bumblebee was checking on contents of a bag of his. To Blitzwing, the scene almost resembled the way human parent would interact with their child after meeting them from an educational establishment back on Earth. Come to think of it, Bumbler looked like a sparkling in comparison to all of Warframes, which made the situation even more amusing in Blitzwing’s optics. 

After switching on needed components, the grey Decepticon activated a program in his own engine’s software. Both mechs synchronized recently updated broadcasting frequencies of their flying gear, and the “jetpack” came to life with a faint glow of its side lights.

A model of a “parachute” may have looked old, but the technology behind an outdated surface was something to be proud of. As if to prove a point, Megatron shifted his wings from side to side, up and down. Minibot whirled his head around just in time to see his own wings mirroring movements of his larger partner with a barely there delay. Created during an expansion of territories on foreign planets, devices similar to Bumbler’s one allowed Autobots to join Decepticons in off-ground battles and explorations, going so far as to copy difficult maneuvers of Warframes with an impressive accuracy. 

A true forgotten marvel of Cybertronian engineering. 

To say that Bumblebee could barely keep his excitement under control would be an understatement. The way he puffed up his chest plates and spread his temporary wings reminded local workers of a young Warframe after the first successful training session at a boot camp, fears and doubts the Bot had about an upcoming battle diminishing at a prospect of taking the first flight in his life. Even if it’ll mostly be coordinated by a partner. 

Bumblebee faced a rising by his side Decepticon with a contagious smile plastered across his grey faceplates, blue optics glowing with eagerness. He said something to him, most likely a spicy remark about his immaculate skills as a Prime soon-to-be Flyer on a battlefield taking place in an outer space. Those jovial antics made Megatron roll his optics, after which he turned an Autobot around with a smirk and (lightly) shoved him forward in direction of a main hangar, where they would join other members of a boarding party. 

---

It’s been a while since both mechs disappeared out of the view of Triplechanger, leaving him to his own devices. The grey and violet mech was in a middle of cleaning a working bench when he received a call. 

“Hey, Blitzwing!” A booming voice of Bulkhead sounded clearly over the comlink, only interrupted by periodic screeching of metal against metal in a background. “Are you and Bumblebee finished by any chance?”

“Fortune is on your side this time, my artistic friend, - Megatron’s already picked your yellow menace up.” Warframe answered while putting instruments into their designated slots. “What’s the matter?” 

“Lugnut and I would really appreciate it, if you joined us with loading ammo on a ship - these electromagnetic emitters are putting a strain even on him. Optimus is already helping us by operating a crane, but I don’t think it’s enough for everything to be finished on time.” A green Autobot admitted guiltily. When Blitzwing was about to say something, he added: “One more thing: Optimus said that he’d like to discuss a plan of an attack with you again afterwards - something about an established route through an asteroid field doesn’t click right with him.“

Of course it didn’t. But Blitzwing could hardly blame him for being extra cautious. Truth be told, he’d expected an ex-cadet to contact him sooner or later in order to go through a plan one more time. Meaning, there’s really no point for him to act getting annoyed at a prospect of doing an additional work during a current shift. 

“Alright. Seems that by helping you I’m going to kill two cats with one stone, so, count me in.”

“It’s “two birds”, Blitzwing,” Bulkhead corrected him with an audible smile. “Anyways, I’ll be waiting for you at an entrance 4-06. Thank you.”

With that being said, the bulky Autobot hung up the call, leaving a Warframe alone with his own thoughts, smiling to himself while cleaning the last of used tools from grease and oil. 

Many things have changed since the beginning of a new cycle of War, for better and for worse. With the amount of mechs switching sides and betraying their causes, sometimes it was easier to assume, that all around you were enemies rather than to hope you had at least someone to rely on. 

Yet, despite every obstacle Outcast Autobots and Earth-stranded Decepticons had to go through so far, the newly formed squad of theirs was a proof that some things stayed the same. That Camaraderie still had a value in an ever treacherous world. And Blitzwing had a feeling that no matter what lied ahead of them, the old healed bonds and recently blossomed ones would stand the test of time.

As if coming to an internal agreement with himself, the Triplechanger shook his helm and finally headed to an agreed upon place of meeting with his unlikely comrades, while silently humming a tune Bumblebee taught him once.

Perhaps, an Autobot known as Prowl was right after all?

Perhaps, it was indeed the right time to start having Faith and Trust in teammates once more?

[nadas-dirthalen]

I Saw Solas's Origin in an Achievement Icon and It Opened My Eyes on 15 Years of Lore

— PART NINE: if you haven't read previous parts, do it now! —

[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 10 ]

Welcome, friends and travellers! I wanted to get some thoughts recorded before Veilguard's release so I could see if I am right about an absolute BOATLOAD of theories I have.

In short: I saw the achievement list when it was released. I have seen the backstory hints for Solas included in said list. AND MY MIND WAS BLOWN.

You have been warned: THIS COLLECTION OF THEORIES INCLUDES SPOILERS FOR EVERY DRAGON AGE GAME AND ALL PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL UP TO AND INCLUDING OCTOBER 18, 2024.

Come sit down with me. Make a nice cup of tea (and hide it from Solas). We've got a lot of unpacking to do.

(no, this gif isn't the spoiler, I just like it.)

The Story of Solas: Him Solas Evanuris, Da'durgen'lin (2/3)

— The War That Made Him 'Sing Our End' —

If you're still here, I thank you, from the bottom of my tired heart.

From one single achievement icon, we've unearthed (hah) the workings of Thedas, its realms, its magic. We've come to understand the Evanuris, and we understand one of the youngest of them.

Now, we understand his title: the Dread Wolf, Fen'Harel. Walker of the in-between, as much Evanuris as he is Forgotten One. Da'durgen'lin, boy made from stone. The blight given to the Titan, Terror.

His existence opened the pathway to the end of all things. He and Mythal would fight to stop it. Mythal would lose the fight, and Solas would lose the rest of the world.

Let's keep going. Part 2 of 3, y'all.

Seriously, as ever, go read the other parts before this one. If you need to only read a few, then read 1, 3, 4, 5, and 7 (linked above). All of those matter for context here, you've been forewarned!

This post is going to be long. Let's dive right in. We've got:

The Beginning of the End, and the Rebellion that Tried to Prevent It

"The Wolf Chews Off Its Own Leg to Escape the Trap"

The Prison; the... Gangue?

Uthenera, and a Love of the Fade

The Truth About Solas No One (in Thedas) Ever Found... but We All Heard

(screenshot from the June 11 gameplay reveal.)

There were little hints to Solas being from icy terror throughout Inquisition, and I want to make quick mention of them.

First is the fact that when you load up Inquisition's prologue, Solas does not have one point in Spirit talents, as one might expect. No: he has one singular point in Winter's Grasp. I never could figure out why. This would make sense.

But also, one more small thing I noticed? If you solve a puzzle in Trespasser (the one in the Shattered Library) and open up the Dread Wolf statue's chest, you get... Rime.

An ice sword. The description says, "Etched into this blade: 'The way is full of tests and danger. Watch with the coolness of contemplation to stay safe.'"

Coolness. Contemplation—another word for wisdom, that was mentioned in the 'Callback' short story of Tevinter Nights as one of the potential spirits behind the big Regret demon. Both of those things being associated together: icy contemplation? Cold calculation?

Uh huh. UH HUH. OKAY MOVING ON. The next point I want to make is even more important, and I don't have time to hunt for every tiny mention of ice-Solas when we have a day and a half until Veilguard.

Take a breath in with me.

Solas has been singing to us this whole time. His song—the Hallelujah cadence—has been how he has told us of his past, the whole time. Every time he remembers his origins, his history, he is speaking in song. And the very first of those songs, that I can see?

"They're all singing. Coffers, coffins, corpses that aren't dead. A song crying out in the dark." — Cole dialogue, Trespasser

Cole is right, here. (and always.)

It is Mythal's lullaby to Solas, in the same cadence. Calling him into being, using the song he knows best.

His whole life has been a ballad. Not the ballad of his rebellion—though that was one piece of it.

The ballad of the Dread Wolf. The ballad of the blight.

Let's follow its story.

The Beginning of the End, and the Rebellion that Tried to Prevent It

(screenshot specifically from this Kala Elizabeth video that I have seen before, i swear i am not going through youtube or looking at new content!)

Remember what we know so far: Terror was the first Titan gone wrong. Before that, the elves did not call them Forgotten Ones, because there was nothing dangerous enough to necessitate forgetting.

It was Andruil, stalker of the Void, who would hunt the Forgotten Ones AFTER they had been named such. Who would break rules, cross boundaries, and return blighted.

It was not Terror she hunted. It was Pestilence. The other Evanuris each had their own Titans that they mined, and the others were all fighting back.

Solas's rebellion—which I imagine Mythal was his ally during—aimed to stop the Evanuris. Who better, after all, right? Who better, than the one who had survived what they hoped to unleash? Who better, than the one that the People recognized as stronger than the blight?

But to just curb their usage of blight magic would never have been enough.

It does not matter what the Evanuris did with that blight, initially. It matters that the blight existed at all, and we know that every single one of the Evanuris did actions that caused every Titan to fight back. That's why they have the names they do: terror, malice, spite, pestilence.

The world was doomed either way, because when the Titans turned before the time of the Veil, that meant that the Fade, a part of them, was also doomed.

There was nothing the damage would not touch. The only possible thing would have been to somehow have the Evanuris make up for all their many, many horrors—and would you forgive them, if you were a Titan, knowing what they've done?

We don't know the exact details of his rebellion, yet, and so I cannot properly analyze the legends of Fen'Harel that would have taken place during this rebellion (such as the one with Andruil and Anaris). I also do not have the time to devote to researching them before finishing part 10 of this series.

But it could only end one way.

With the Veil going up, the Evanuris locked away, all the Titans sundered from all their conscious minds—to save the Titans from THEMSELVES.

"The Wolf Chews Its Leg Off to Escape the Trap"

"He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap." — Cole dialogue, Trespasser

I never understood what that meant, before. Solas created the Veil, yes—but what about the Veil was his leg? Because "chews its leg off" implies that Solas has done personal harm to himself, specifically, in the creation of the Veil. What would be true for Solas that is not true of the other elvhen impacted by the Veil? Shouldn't all of their legs have been chewed off, too, in this analogy?

No: because there was one of the Evanuris alone who walked among both clans of gods, remember?

Fen'Harel. Evanuris and Forgotten One. Da'durgen'lin, who the Titans recognize as their own. We do not know what happened to Solas during his rebellion or how he communicated with the other Forgotten Ones (or, I do not know yet, and have no time to find out), but we do know that he walked among both, seen as a peer among both sets of gods.

That means that, for all he looked like an Evanuris, some part of Solas still was Titan-borne, in ways none of the Evanuris were. What might the distinguishing feature of one of the Titan-borne be?

The song. The one he continues to speak in, trying to hint what happened.

Forever calling for home.

In creating the Veil and sundering the Titans, Solas broke his own home, his own source of life. In sundering the Titans, he sundered a fundamental piece of himself.

Who among the audience remembers Solas's greatest fear, as seen in the Fade during Here Lies the Abyss?

Dying. Alone.

Not dying without Mythal. Not dying without Arlathan. Not the empire of old never being restored.

Dying.

Alone.

While you're reaching for the nearest tissues, let me pull up some Varric/Solas banter for you.

Solas: Do you ever miss life beneath the earth? The call of the Stone? Varric: Nah. Whatever the Stone - capital S - is, it was gone by the time my parents had me. Solas: But... do you miss it? Varric: How could I miss what I never had? Varric: But say I did have that sense, that connection to the Stone. What would it cost me? Varric: Would I lose my friends up here? Would I stop telling stories? Varric: I like who I am. If I want to hear songs, I'll go to a tavern. Solas: You are wiser than most.

Solas is afraid. He is afraid of being the only one to remember the call of the Stone. Do the other dwarves miss it? Will they ever fight to have it back?

Solas: Is there at least a movement to reunite Orzammar and Kal-Sharok? Varric: What is it with you, Chuckles? Why do you care so much about the dwarves? Solas: Once, in the Fade, I saw the memory of a man who lived alone on an island. Most of his tribe had fallen to beasts or disease. His wife had died in childbirth. He was the only one left. He could have struck out on his own to find a new land, new people. But he stayed. He spent every day catching fish in a little boat, every night drinking fermented fruit juice and watching the stars. Varric: I can think of worse lives. Solas: How can you be happy surrendering, knowing it will all end with you? How can you not fight? Varric: I suppose it depends on the quality of the fermented fruit juice. Solas: So it seems.

Most of his people fell to disease. He was the only one left.

Solas isn't talking about the blighted elves of ancient Arlathan. He is talking about the other beings of the Stone, all succumbing to the blight. The defence mechanisms of the Titans he was forced to sunder and put to eternal sleep.

Solas: I am sorry to have bothered you with my questions about your people Varric. I see so much of this world in dreams. Humans, my own people, even qunari. Dwarves alone were lost to me, save scattered fragments of memory where some spirit cared to watch. Now I know why I see so little. Varric: And why is that? Solas: Dwarves are the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood. Undirected. Whatever skill of arms it had, gone forever. Although it might twitch to give the appearance of life, it will never dream. Varric: I'd avoid mentioning that to any Carta, Chuckles. They might not take it the right way.

Because the Titans are all gone, as far as Solas is concerned. They are gone, because it was necessary to sunder the waking world from the dreaming one. The Titans needed to be disarmed—and the Evanuris needed to be so caught off guard, they would be vulnerable. He only needed to successfully complete one ritual.

One we already know exists.

The Prison; the... Gangue?

(screenshots from Kala Elizabeth's video. i know her channel is spoiler-free!)

Solas did not intend to cause worldwide destruction with the Veil; it was what he had to do. He put the Titans to sleep so they would not—could not—fight back, and imprisoned the Evanuris so there would be no one left alive to manipulate the blight.

"Solas doesn't want to hurt people! He's not that kind of wolf! Qunari don't see." — Cole dialogue, Trespasser

But the Evanuris could not exist in any normal prison. Had they access to their bodies in any capacity, they would have killed each other, knowing they would soon come back through their archdemons.

Solas needed to take all access to their mobile bodies away. I wondered how, because we see him standing in "fade jail." But what I had not seen, or what I had not known to look for, were the statues all around Solas.

We know, from Inquisition, what can be done with those statues. We see it in the Hissing Wastes, and the Tomb of Fairel questline.

Until further notice: Do not tamper with the torches! Lighting them in wrong order summons demons. The inscriptions on the pillars indicate the correct order, but wait until we have confirmed the accuracy of our translations before proceeding. I have made maps to the other tombs where there are similar structures. Let the same warning stay your hand there. - Magister Gallus Below this, someone else has written complicated formulas and scribbled many notes: - Demons bound into the rock! How did the ancient dwarves manage it without mages? (Binding runes? Subtle properties of stonework? Investigate!) - "Gangue" carved into walls. Could be translated from Old Dwarven as "Stone waste" or "Impure spirit-of-the-stone." Dwarven superstition, saw demons as "impure" spirits of rock? - Study impossible with dormant demons. Ask Sephus and Urathus for help with binding.

Demons can be bound into stone. But what is a demon? A demon is a twisted spirit.

And we know from not only the Chant of Light, but prior theorycrafting in this series (part 3), that everyone who is alive has a spirit for a soul. Spirits and souls are the same thing: the thoughts of Titans.

Those can be removed from bodies. They can be placed into bodies. We've seen the Evanuris do it, with Dirthamen "taking secrets away" from the animals he experimented on.

And once put into stone? There would be no way for the Evanuris to act except for the tenuous connection to the other pieces of themselves: the parts of their souls stored in their archdemons, who would begin to whisper to the priests of old Tevinter.

But what would happen, over four thousand years?

"The prison in which I had trapped them had begun to crumble. I was moving them to another—"

This confirms, to me, that the Evanuris were trapped in those statues, AND that it was, in fact, a good plan!

Good job, Solas! Sorry we made fun of you for an entire franchise.

Still wish you would've asked any of your friends for help, ever, and maybe not murdered some of them.

But, no matter how good the plan, the result of Solas creating the Veil, sundering the Titans, breaking his own connection to the Titans, and imprisoning the Evanuris into stone took a massive toll on him. One he would not recover from for thousands of years.

Uthenera, a Love of the Fade, and the Desire to Remake the World He Knew

This section, thank the gods, gets to be short.

We all know that Solas, weakened, went into Uthenera: the eternal waking sleep. What I want to discuss is why he loved it so much.

Think about it with me for a moment: what is the Fade, from all we have learned in these posts? It is the sleeping Titans' consciousness. The domain of all the Titans' thoughts, and the natural dwelling place of Fade spirits—which are also the Titans' thoughts.

You know what that sounds like to me?

The closest that Solas can get to the Isatunoll he once knew, before the Veil. The one mentioned when Mythal sang that lullaby to him.

Remember what I thought of the elvish word suledin?

sul: possibly short for sulahn, "sing" e: possibly used in place of e'var, as in "our (in Isatunoll)" or "the Titans'" din: death; the dead; the end

Solas could 'sing our end' in the Fade, with the other spirits.

He doesn't have to be the lone man on the island, in the Fade. Not as much, anyway. The realm of the Fade takes the shape of the thoughts and memories of the spirits and people inhabiting it at the time. Thoughts communicate with Fade and shape it.

Is it any wonder, then, that things were always easier for Solas in the Fade, by his own admission?

He was always telling us the truth. We just didn't know enough to see it.

Solas stayed in uthenera for four thousand years (give or take?), and in that time, entrenched in his beliefs. How could he not? He had just caused worldwide devastation out of necessity, and was mourning the loss of all he never stood a chance of saving. He broke the world to break the blight—and when he slept, he mourned it. His people, made of stone, all gone. His people, in their greed, the ones who destroyed it all.

Titans and Evanuris; he walked among them both. He betrayed both.

Both betrayed him first.

Of course he planned to wake, to move the Evanuris to a new prison, and then take down the Veil. It would be so much easier, moving their harmless spirits from statue to statue. And once it was over? The Titans could wake, see that their tormentors were all gone, and—perhaps—heal.

He seeks... regeneration.

But Corypheus heard whispers from Dirthamen, long before then. Corypheus would survive what Solas had intended to kill him with. The Veil would be in danger of coming crashing down—and bringing the horrors of the Evanuris and Titans both back with its disintegration.

Solas had intended to sacrifice a world he didn't know in pursuit of healing the one he wounded.

Corypheus, however, would force him into the Inquisition—and the Inquisition would change everything.

---

Also: I am essentially FULLY OFFLINE to try and avoid game spoilers! As these reviews have just gone live yesterday (10/28), I am not reading my notifications/replies, and am appearing here only to continue posting my theories. I have heard that the embargo has been broken at least once already and I refuse to risk it, so I will respond to messages and notifications once I have played Veilguard for a bit.

(Mutuals, if you need me, you may DM me, as long as you do not mention the reviews in any capacity.)

[yuzurujenn]

[2023.11.11] AERA Special Edition - Yuzuru Hanyu's COSTUMES by Satomi Ito

Vividly colouring the ice The World of Satomi Ito's Costume Designs

Program Itsuka Owaru Yume PROLOGUE / November 4, 2022 Hanyu sent me an image of the colour, and I proposed several design options. I had heard in advance that it was a program without jumps, so I thought it would be nice to have fluttering sleeves and a long hem like a goldfish. To avoid a flat appearance from a distance, I gathered drapes from the front to the back. Since the sleeves and hem are long, I wanted a sense of airiness, so I designed it with an open back. The colours are airbrushed in varying shades of light blue and lavender.

Program CHANGE PROLOGUE / November 4, 2022 Given the unique arrangement of this piece, I wanted to create a modern, asymmetrical costume rather than a completely Japanese design. I used silk fabric with gold thread embroidery on a black base, which I had purchased years ago at first sight and had kept in storage. It was a precious material, so I hadn’t been able to use it until now, but I believe it would be fulfilling for the fabric to be used in Hanyu’s costume. The left shoulder features a woven decoration, and I paired it with a faux leather belt at the waist to avoid an all-black look.

Program Ashura-chan GIFT / February 26, 2023 This is a very simple shirt costume compared to what I’ve made so far. Hanyu mentioned, "I want a red satin-like shirt with a glossy finish." Since satin shows stains when it gets wet, I searched for fabric that wouldn’t show stains as much. “There’s a choreography that involves lying on the ice, so that helps,” he said. Because it’s a simple costume, I focused on the quality of the materials as much as possible. The tie was also Hanyu’s request. I initially prepared a blue tie for the fitting, but he sent me an image saying, "I’d like a tie with this pattern." I used that as a reference to design the pattern, printed it, and created a tie specifically for "Ashura-chan."

Program One Summer’s Day GIFT / February 26, 2023 Hanyu suggested, "I’d like a light blue gradient effect at the split hem," so I incorporated that into the design. For this costume, I had the image of Haku (the white dragon) from "Spirited Away" in my mind. I wanted details that evoke the scales of a dragon, so I prepared three different circular cuts of organza material. I made many pieces in different sizes and colours, attaching each one individually. I also chose fabrics with a translucent quality. I layered the sleeves and added extra layers to the hem. I think the shimmering of the fabric when it moved gave it a dreamy appearance.

Program The Firebird GIFT / February 26, 2023 When Hanyu told me his image of the song, the first thing I thought was "I want to add large wings." In the initial design I presented, I had added a hair ornament, but I clearly remember Hanyu contacting me, saying, "It will be distracting during the performance, so I don’t think it will work." The costume for "The Firebird" has a strong red impression, but at first it was a bit more white. Hanyu requested, "I want to keep that while adding more colour," so I reflected that in the design, using emerald as an accent and incorporating peacock motifs in various places.

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

Costume Designer: Satomi Ito

Never wavering from the core, Always at the center.

Accompanying Creator vol. 1 The exquisite and glamorous costumes beautifully elevate the world contained within the program. Costume designer Satomi Ito has been pursuing a vision of “costumes that only Yuzuru Hanyu can pull off” since the beginning of their collaboration, continuously creating exclusive costumes that belong solely to each piece of music.

-Including his competitive era, you have designed many costumes for Hanyu. When did you first meet him?

In 2014, when Hanyu became a gold medalist at the Sochi Olympics, he contacted the company I was working for at the time, asking for an exhibition costume. There were other designers at the company, and many wanted to create costumes for him. A few of the senior designers and I submitted design sketches. Hanyu chose my design, which led to us creating both competitive and exhibition costumes together.

-The first costume you made was for "The Final Time Traveler." Hanyu performed in this costume at the Grand Prix Final exhibition. What do you think attracted him to your design sketches?

You should ask him directly (laughs). Although he chose my design, he mentioned that the colour wasn’t quite right, so I had to revise it. I created three new sketches to show him in person during the fitting, and he selected one on the spot to begin production. Once the design was confirmed, we would discuss colours and materials via email. Sometimes, he sends me image references or colour preferences. Depending on the costume and the timing, it usually takes about two months to create. Since the music and program concepts are determined before the design, deadlines can be tight.

-You once described Hanyu as 'a designer in his own right.'

For example, Hanyu decided almost everything about "SEIMEI". He had specific requests regarding the colours and wanted the design to stay true to the kariginu. Initially, I had a completely different idea, so in that sense, I see Hanyu as a kind of designer. However, it’s my responsibility to create the patterns, sew the pieces, and add embellishments, so I focus heavily on the details. Since the athletes are the ones who see the costumes up close, I want to create something that they will find impressive.

-Working with a skater who continuously evolves—winning consecutive Olympic titles, challenging the quadruple axel, and performing a solo show at Tokyo Dome—must be inspiring, right

Hanyu is always pursuing higher goals, and naturally, the costumes he wears should also progress in terms of lightness and materials that allow for movement. The first competition costume I made for him was for “The Phantom of the Opera” (2014-15), which weighed about 850 grams, and looking back, that feels a bit heavy. Since then, I have been exploring ways to use materials, and now most of my costumes weigh around 500 grams. The costume for “Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso” (2021-22) is just slightly over 500 grams.

[Having stepped away from competition allows for more creative freedom]

-Behind the glamour, there's meticulous adjustment down to the gram.

I think athletes find practice wear the easiest to move in, but that alone isn’t enough for competition. I need to design costumes that express the program's worldview while also pursuing functionality. Honestly, design and functionality often conflict, and it’s common to feel, “I want to do this, but I can’t.” However, the most important factor is whether they can perform, so I focus on that when creating.

-Has there been any change since Hanyu stepped away from competition? 

It feels refreshing not to worry about weight. I realise, “Now that he’s out of competition, I can design more freely.” For example, in "The Firebird," after hearing Hanyu’s image of the music, my first thought was that “I want to add large wings,” so I designed the costume accordingly. For "Itsuka Owaru Yume," I had heard in advance that it was a program without jumps, so I imagined fluttering sleeves and a long hem like a goldfish. I’ve been able to take on various challenges. Just because he turned professional doesn’t mean he’s stopped jumping; he’s always moving, spinning, and the ease of movement remains a priority. However, sometimes he says things like, “This program doesn’t have jumps, so it’s okay if it’s a bit heavier,” which opens the door to new challenges (laughs). It’s exciting to explore a wider range of fabrics and decorations.

[A strong commitment to "costume for this program]

-When do you feel Hanyu's unique attention to detail when working on costume production?

Although he has never said it directly, I think he is conscious of “a costume that can only be worn by Yuzuru Hanyu.” While style varies from person to person, everyone considers how to design to make the legs look a bit longer or more proportionate, right? Hanyu is tall, so he looks good. There are designs that can only be proposed because it’s him, and he can carry off even the most extravagant costumes. The purple version of "Origin" costume is a prime example. Inspired by Nijinsky’s “Le Spectre de la Rose,” I added three-dimensional rose decorations and butterflies that weren’t in the original design sketch. This design could only be proposed thanks to Hanyu’s style, skill, and the program. I probably wouldn’t think of such design on any other skater. Even when creating costumes, I often think, 'This would be difficult for anyone other than Hanyu.' I also wonder if Hanyu himself thinks, “If it were me, it should be fine.”

-Above all, he is also a skater who values the music. 

He has a strong desire for “a costume made solely for this program,” which he has mentioned during fittings. He holds a clear concept of his program, so if he feels something is off with the design, he’ll say, “This is the image I have in mind,” and then I will make adjustments and work on it.

-You’ve been involved in creating costumes for Hanyu for nearly ten years. They are all delicate and beautiful, but are there any costumes that haven’t been revealed yet?

When I propose designs, I usually create 2 to 4 sketches. Sometimes, among the ‘rejected designs’, there are personal favourites, and I hope to unveil those on another occasion. I also think it’s okay not to be confined to figure skating costumes. In fact, I’d love to create costumes outside of figure skating (laughs). My recent goal is to create haute couture just for Hanyu and have it photographed by Mika Ninagawa.

-As the executive producer of "GIFT," Yuzuru Hanyu created a spectacular show.

After all, it’s crucial not to let your core waver. I think it's truly amazing that Hanyu takes the lead and keeps himself at the center of it all. I look forward to his future ice shows and performances.

Source: AERA Special Edition - Yuzuru Hanyu: The Solitary Driving Force pg 80-85 Info: https://www.amazon.co.jp/exec/obidos/ASIN/4023323500/

[gu6chan]

the brief mention that 1.3 leonard could still be feeling some deep lingering grief over his brothers' deaths still never fails to fascinate me tbh like, does he think of the standards he must have lost since their passing and feel guilt? or does he see them in every child he abuses??? does he keep his grief to himself or does he find it a useful anecdote to what must be a countless number of families dealing with loss??? does the green dragon know? does he confide in it????? since leonard seems to be aware of what arioch lost to the union, just how aware is/was she in what HE lost???????? did they have a role in each other's loss? is THAT where their beef came from??????? im going to merge into a wall

[smileysuh]

dark protector

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

tw/cw. mentions of past relationship abuse/trauma/cheating, alcohol, bar fights, Cheol gets grazed with a knife, unprotected sex, dry humping, hand job, blow job, pussy eating, fingering, pleasure dom!Cheol, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, size kink/manhandling, multiple reader orgasms, groping, Cheol is a big muscled tattooed man, creampie, birthday sex, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 14.2k

🍭 aus. tattoo/motorcycle au, nurse!reader, soulmates, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  The tarot deck used in the prologue is ‘The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Guide Deck’ by Kim Krans. I had so much fun exploring a more spiritual-themed plot, the idea of soulmates and spirit guides and such :)

Prologue

It’s been six months since your breakup. Six months of self-work and healing practices. Six months of connecting with your spirit guides, hoping you can work through this dark period of your life and come out the other side.

You’ve just gotten off a long shift at the hospital, where you work as an emergency room nurse. Cleaning up other people’s messes makes you feel a little more whole every day, it shows you that while your wounds might be deeper than the skin, you have the resources to fix things that seem unfixable.

After a shower, you slump onto your couch, your hands reaching for one of your tarot decks. It’s as if you can feel the energy radiating off your spirit animal cards, and you remove them carefully from the box, holding them close to your chest.

“Spirit,” you say softly. “I think I’m finally ready to try dating again. But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll end up in the same situation as last time, finding a man who needs to be fixed- I know my pattern is finding broken men, and I’m done with that. I need guidance. I need some sort of sign that will show up when I meet the right person.”

Part of your healing journey was writing down what traits you’d want in a partner. You’d made a list that included, ‘kind, smart, patient, stable, loyal, and protective,’ and you’d folded to your own physical tastes by writing ‘tattoos’ as well. You can’t help it, you like the way art looks on skin, and although all the tatted bad boys you’ve dated in the past have been assholes, you’re holding onto a hope that you can find a good man with tattoos. You know they’re out there, you just have to find one.

“Spirit, can you help me pull a card, and whatever animal is on that card could be a tattoo that my future significant other would have?” you ask. “Please don’t choose a lion or a wolf or something super common- I want an animal that is a little more unique, something that couldn’t just be coincidence… but, I mean, if my soulmate is meant to have a wolf then I guess I can make that work.”

You hate questioning your guides, hate putting boundaries on them. If your soulmate has a stupid, overdone tattoo like every other man with ink, then so be it.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to shuffle your spirit animal deck. 

You’re not being too fast with your shuffle, you prefer to sit for a long time and wait for cards to pop out rather than force a reading with erratic motions. Focusing on your breathing, and your ask from the spirit, you wait patiently.

Soon, a card pops out, landing on the coffee table in front of you.

An Elk looks up at you, and you take a moment to assess the card before finding the guide book.

You flip to the Earth section, finding the Elk easily. There are a few keywords at the top of the reading, they say ‘Stable, resilient, headstrong, the father.’

Stable is a word you’d written into your boyfriend manifestation notes, and you consider that for a moment before reading further. 

“The great Elk represents the Earth element in its masculine form. This means it provides underlying support and stability amidst life’s many changes. An Elk personality is fully established in themselves and knows their core values. They become known and respected for acting in ways that uphold those values. Sometimes the Elk’s ego can become inflated, but for the most part, they make damn good fathers, mothers, lovers, and friends. The world needs more elk energy.”

You think about the type of man who could be stable, whether that’s financially or emotionally. You’re hoping to find a man as set and in love with his job as you are- the kind of man you could build a future with. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about kids, and the note that Elk personalities make good fathers and lovers makes the feeling of hope stir within you.

However, the Elk - like the Lion and the Wolf -  is a pretty common tattoo. 

“I’m wondering if I should ask for a second card,” you tell your guides. “This deck has numerous animals connected to zodiac signs. Fish for Pisces, Scorpion for Scorpio… I know not all zodiacs have an animal correlated to them, so I won’t use this as a defining factor, but… maybe to make things even a little more specific, could you help me pull a card to represent the zodiac sign for my future Elk tattooed boyfriend?” 

This feels like a lot. And you’re aware that there are only a few cards in this large deck that will actually connect to the zodiac, so you prepare yourself for a dud card.

You begin to shuffle, and this time, a card pops out even faster than the first. It’s face down on your coffee table, and you take a breath, willing this to be a sign.

When you flip the card, you find a lion staring up at you.

The lion is correlated with the Leo zodiac, and you swallow thickly, thinking about the traits generally connected to Leos. The words that come to mind are ‘confident, loyal, ambitious, and protective,’ two of which are traits you’d manifested.

You find your guidebook again, reading the top line of traits: “Patient, regal, a complete master.”

“The Lion is a master of the fire element and the living mascot of self-transformation. A lion personality dedicates their life to personal and spiritual growth. This dedication inspires some and intimidates others, therefore the Lion is respected by all but known intimately by few. Some mistake the Lion as hard to access or aloof, yet those with a keener eye know better. Lions are observant, stealth, and precise in their words and actions. They do not waste energy or resources. This card reminds us that self-mastery is available to all, no matter where our quest begins.”

You consider your reading as you put your deck away and head to bed. A Leo man with an Elk tattoo, someone who is patient, stable, headstrong, loyal, and maybe a little egotistical, but hopefully not in any ways that would be damaging to you like your narcissist of an ex-boyfriend.

You’re prepared to not find a man who fits this bill, but you feel a little better about narrowing down the traits you’re attracted to. Some people don’t believe in tarot, and while you can understand that, this reading has spoken to you in a way that you can’t quite explain.

There’s no timeline to the reading, and you won’t be restricting yourself waiting for a man with an Elk tattoo to sweep you off your feet, but it feels a little easier having some parameters. 

When you fall asleep, you dream of a large man standing in shadows, Elk-like antlers protruding from his head. 

One:

“Tell me again how you found out about this place?” you sigh, getting out of your best friend’s car to stare at the tattoo studio.

“God, I’ve told you a hundred times,” Sunmin rolls her eyes. “One of my sister’s boyfriend’s cousins’s boyfriends work here.”

“I’m going to need you to say that slower.”

“My sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, his cousin is dating one of the artists here, and he says they’re all super hot. And I figured, since your tarot cards told you a few months ago that you’ll find some dude with an elk, a tattoo shop is a good place to look for him.”

“Okay, but please don’t bring up the actual tarot,” you plead. “People judge me for that shit all the time.”

“My lips are sealed but my eyes will be wide open,” she grins.

The two of you enter the tattoo shop, and the air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the hot summer outside. Your friend chats with the receptionist about her consultation with an artist named Vernon, and soon the two of you are being escorted deeper into the studio.

It’s an open plan layout, with small sections for each artist. Only one man is currently tattooing someone, and you suppose that since it’s the morning, they likely get busier as the day goes on.

There’s a large man who approaches you and your friend as you sit in Vernon’s section. “Hi! You must be Vernon’s ten o’clock consultation! I’m Mingyu. Vernon’s just chatting with our boss in the back, but he’ll be out pretty quick.”

“Hi, I’m Sunmin and this is y/n,” your friend introduces you. “We have no problem waiting.”

“Cool. I don’t have a client for a while, I can keep you guys company while you wait for Vernon if you’d like.”

“We’d love that,” Sunmin beams. 

“How did you guys hear about us?” Mingyu asks, taking a seat on the tattoo artist chair.

“My sister’s boyfriend’s cousin is dating one of the guys who work here,” Sunmin explains.

“Is your sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan?” 

You’re shocked the man was able to follow what Sunmin just said.

“Yup! That’s him!” Sunmin confirms.

“Love that guy,” Mingyu grins. “Yeah, I’m dating his cousin. He told me he’d tell others about the shop but I didn’t think he’d actually follow through with it.”

“Well, here he is, following through,” Sunmin laughs. 

“So is this tattoo consult for you?”

Sunmin nods. “Yup! I’ve always liked ink, got a few small pieces, but I wanted something bigger for my thigh.” 

“How about you?” Mingyu asks. “Any future tattoo plans?”

“Not at the moment,” you respond, gaze shifting to a door that leads to the office in the back. Two men have come out, they’re both quite handsome, dressed in oversized hoodies that obscure any ink on their torsos. 

“I’ve actually been looking at elk tattoos,” Sunmin lies, “know anyone with anything like that?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to respond, but one of the men from the back is already approaching. “Hi, are you Sunmin?” he asks.

“That’s me,” your best friend beams.

“I’m Vernon,” the soft looking man smiles. Mingyu gets out of his seat, bidding a quick farewell before going back to his own section. As Vernon and Sunmin begin to talk about her tattoo plans, you find your eyes shifting to the man who must be the boss as he walks over to inspect the tattoo taking place.

He’s got a nice build, and you can see the outline of strong shoulders even from under his large black hoodie. He rolls up the sleeves, and you can see he’s heavily inked, but from a distance, you can’t make out any elk-like marks. 

Sunmin had done her best to try to ask Mingyu about a tattoo fitting what your tarot had told you to watch out for, but you suppose you shouldn’t be shocked that your soulmate isn’t in the first shop you’ve gone into. 

You relax against your chair, listening to Sunmin and Vernon talk.

You’ll do your best to find your Elk inked Leo, but you suppose you can’t rush the process.

Two: 

You’re at a bar with friends when you hear a commotion just outside. As the designated driver of the night, you haven’t touched any drinks, and although it might not be anything serious, your emergency room nurse instincts kick in, drawing you to the possible danger as you quickly make your way to the front of the bar.

You catch the tail end of what’s happening, one bouncer chasing after some guy who’s booking it down the street, and another man being held back by a second security guard. 

The man being held back looks enraged, and he manages to break out of the bouncers grasp- which is when you see blood on the back of his white shirt.

“Fuck that guy,” the injured man snarles, and when he turns, you catch a glimpse of his profile.

It’s the man from the tattoo parlour, the one you assumed was the boss.

While he looks extremely pissed off, you can’t help but approach. “Excuse me,” you say quietly, grabbing his attention. “You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” He looks over his shoulder, grabbing at his shirt where the blood is. “Fuck, he must have grazed me.”

Must have grazed him… with a knife?

“I’m uh… I’m an ER nurse, do you mind if I take a look?” you ask.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit,” the bouncer tells you, darting back into the bar.

“I’m fine,” the tattooed man tells you.

“Then there’s no harm in me taking a look to confirm that.” You try to smile softly at him.

The man looks at you, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“I think I was at your parlour last week, my friend had a consult,” you explain. “I’m y/n.”

He looks you up and down. “Seungcheol.”

You can see the anger and tension dissipating from his shoulders. 

“Why don’t you take a seat on the curb and I’ll look at your shoulder?” you suggest.

Seungcheol sighs, but does as he’s told. He sits down, grabbing at the back of his shirt. You catch him wince as he tugs the bloodied fabric off, and you’re shocked at what’s revealed.

It’s not the slight gash that makes you take a step back, it’s the Elk head tattoo on the center of his spine, with large antlers tangling up toward the back of his neck.

“Is it that bad?’ Seungcheol asks, looking over his shoulder at you again.

“No, it’s not that.” You do your best to compose yourself, kneeling down to look at the wound, although your eyes keep going back to the Elk. 

The bouncer returns with the first aid kit, and Seungcheol sits there quietly while you clean the wound. “You’re right that it was a graze, but I still think stitches would be a good idea,” you tell him.

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Seungheol responds while you press gauze to the wound, bandaging him up with medical tape. 

“Why not?”

“I just don’t like hospitals,” the beefy tattooed man says simply.

You release a sigh. “Listen, I’m going to give you my number, and if there’s any sign of infection, call me, okay?”

“You said you're an emergency room nurse, right?” he asks, standing up when you finish with his shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Words evade you as you look at his chiseled chest, and you do your best not to be too obvious at the way you’re gawking at him.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I did to piss off the dude with the knife?”

“It’s not important,” you respond quickly. “You identified it as a knife wound, and that’s all I needed to know.”

“I was in the emergency room one time, got stabbed by some kid outside a strip club, the nurses kept pestering me about the details. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like hospitals,” Seungcheol explains.

“Well, your business is your business,” you tell him. “All I care about is that your wound doesn’t get infected, and you take care of it if you’re not getting stitches.”

Seungcheol’s gaze feels hot as he stares at you, and then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Here. For your number.”

Your fingers are shaky as you type in your digits before handing it back to him, and you can’t help but notice the way your hands briefly touch.

“I need a drink,” Seungcheol says. “You coming back inside? I’ll buy you something, as a thank you for not pestering me.”

“No thanks is necessary,” you try to assure him, but Seungcheol is already reaching for your hand.

“Don’t fight this,” he tells you. “Let me say thank you in the way that I know how.”

You allow the big burly man to guide you back into the bar. He orders himself a shot of tequila, then turns to you expectantly.

“Uh, can I get an iced tea?” you ask.

“Not drinking?”

“I’m the designated driver tonight,” you explain. “My friends are over there-” you turn and catch your whole table of friends staring at you. 

Seungcheol follows your gaze and smirks, offering your friends a small wave. “Okay, so you're a stay in your lane ER nurse, and you’re a designated driver.”

“That sums it up I guess,” you laugh.

“She’ll get an iced tea,” Seungcheol tells the bartender.

You like that he’s not pushing you. Some people pressure you to drink when you’re out, but you like to have your head screwed on straight on your shoulders. You never know when an emergency is going to happen, and your soul calling is helping people. On top of that, it’s nearly midnight, and you’ve got a shift in five hours that you need to be sober for.

“I’m trying to find red flags with you, you know?” Seungcheol says nonchalantly. “But so far, I’m not seeing any.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t have any?” you suggest.

“I’ve been told I’m a walking red flag,” Seungcheol muses. 

“Tattoos can be deceiving,” you point out, although, studies do show that people with trauma are more likely to be inked- all your ex’s have had tattoos, and they’ve all had dark pasts. You can’t help you type, and staring at the man with the elk on his back, you wonder if this is going to be just another repetition. 

Your drinks are set in front of you and you watch Seungcheol down his tequila shot. He shakes his head out a little at the taste, and you appreciate the way his dark curls look with the motion. 

“Anyways, you’re here with friends, I won’t keep you,” he sighs.

“Thanks for the iced tea,” you smile softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Seungcheol nods.

You mirror the movement, grabbing your drink and heading back to your table.

The moment you’re seated, all your friends erupt into chatter.

“Who was that?!” one asks.

“He was hot!” another friend notes.

“Wasn’t that the dude from the tattoo shop?” Sunmin questions, looking after Seungcheol. “Is he… bleeding?”

“Yeah, it’s the guy from the parlour,” you sigh. “His name is Seungcheol, and yes, someone tried to stab him outside.”

“Jesus!” Sunmin’s eyes widen. “But… he bought you a drink?”

“I just cleaned the wound and bandaged it,” you explain. “He insisted on getting me a drink.”

“Well… that’s nice, isn’t it?” one of your friends says thoughtfully.

“I guess.” It’s clear you don’t want to talk about this further, and your friends quickly go back to discussing something else, but you inch closer to Sunmin. “He has a tattoo.”

“He has a lot of tattoos,” she laughs.

“No, he has like… this big elk head and antlers on his back.”

“What?!” 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” you warn her, not wanting her to raise her voice too loud so your other friends hear. You’re quite private about your spiritual leanings. Being a woman of science, and ER nurse no less, sometimes it feels like believing in fate isn’t something that works well with your job.

“We’re talking about this later,” Sunmin tells you.

“Yeah.”

You sit back, thinking about it.

Obviously your interaction with Seungcheol was short. He came off as a bit of a hot head, perhaps you’d even use the word brash- there was certainly a level of ego that radiated off of him as well, but, at the same time, he’s one of the most handsome tattooed men you’ve ever met.

You’d asked your guides for a sign, and tonight, the Elk had bared its antlered head.

Now it’s up to you to decide if you trust in fate, or if this is all just a coincidence. 

Three:

You’re about seven hours into your eight hour shift. Having started at five am, after being a designated driver and getting your friends home at three, you’re quite tired. Things were very busy for a while in the emergency room, but for whatever reason now that it’s noon, things have seemed to calm down a little.

You’re just sitting in the nurse station with your coworker Joshua when your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s an unknown number, and at first, you’re not sure if you should answer it.

Against your better judgement, you bring your phone to your ear, “Hello?”

“Is this the stay in your lane ER nurse who’s also the designated driver?”

You let out a sigh. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, you.”

“Hi, Seungcheol.”

“Hi. So, I tried to stitch up the wound when I got home, and I’m not sure if I did a good job.”

“You tried to stitch it up?” you ask, already exasperated. “Why didn’t you ask me to do it at the bar?”

“I just didn’t,” he says simply.

“Send me a pic of the stitches,” you instruct.

“One sec.”

You wait patiently, and Joshua catches your eyes. ‘What’s happening?’ he mouths.

You quickly mute your call. “Some guy I helped at the bar last night got grazed by a knife, he didn’t want stitches, but decided to try to stitch himself up this morning.”

“What the fuck?” Joshua laughs.

“Okay, sent.” Seungcheol’s voice makes you hit the unmute button, and you open your messages to see the picture.

Joshua rolls closer, staring at your phone. While Seungcheol’s broad muscular back is a bit of a distraction, the stitch up job on the wound is sloppy, and draws most of your attention.

“Seungcheol,” you sigh. “I’m going to say this in the nicest possible way. You might be a tattoo artist, but your stitching skills are sub par at best.”

The line is quiet for a moment, then you hear a chuckle. “Someone’s in a grouchy mood.”

Joshua’s eyes widen, and he looks at you for your response. 

“You would be too if you spent all yesterday sleeping, woke up to be a designated driver for your friends, got home at three and had to be at work for five.”

“Oh… are you at work now?”

“Uh huh.”

“I shouldn’t bother you then,” Seungcheol says quickly.

“It’s no bother,” you assure him. “Look, I’m off in an hour. I’ll swing by to your shop to check out the stitching. Most stitches should be sewn within six to eight hours, we’re bordering on twelve- I just want to make sure there’s no infection.”

“You should just go home after work.”

“You should listen to your ER nurse and let her help you,” you retort, too tired to argue with him over this.

Seungcheol makes a groaning sound. “Fine.”

“See you in an hour.”

You hang up the phone and Joshua looks you up and down. “What’s his deal?”

“Honestly,” you sigh, “I couldn’t tell ya.”

Four:

You and Joshua often have the same shifts, and you carpool together to feel more green, so it’s Joshua who drives you to the tattoo parlour when you’re done work.

Seungcheol is waiting outside, arms crossed over his broad chest, and he eyes Joshua as the both of you get out of the car. 

“Hey,” Seungcheol says as you approach, “who’s this?”

“My coworker, Joshua,” you introduce them, and Joshua has the decency to hold out a hand.

You hold your breath, releasing it when Seungcheol gives him a customary curt handshake.

“He’s your ride?” Seungcheol asks.

“Uh huh, is that a problem?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable having him around while you check out my shoulder, even if he does work with you” Seungcheol explains. “Listen, I’ve got a motorcycle and an extra helmet in the shop, how about I take you home after this?”

Both men look at you, and for a moment, you feel flustered and put on the spot.

You’ve never been on a bike before- but fuck it, you’re too tired to work through Seungcheol’s weird alpha behavior and territorial mentality about you having a male coworker with you.

“That works,” you agree. “Thanks for the ride, Josh.”

“Text me when you’re home,” he warns, pulling you in for a hug.

You can practically feel Seungcheol staring daggers at the two of you when Joshua pulls away and heads back to his car.

Seungcheol’s demeanor is a bit icy as he leads you into the shop. You notice Vernon and Mingyu. Mingyu even says a loud “Hi, y/n!” and you nod politely as Seungcheol takes you into the back office, closing the door.

“So, is that dude your boyfriend?” he asks, heading to the first aid kit already open on his desk.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone right now. My last ex, uh… he did a number on me.” 

“Yeah?” Seungcheol takes off his shirt while you grab medical gloves to pull on. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not sure what there is to say,” you admit with a sad laugh.

“Then you don’t have to say anything,” he decides.

“How about you?” you ask, softly prompting him to turn away from you on his spinny chair so you can assess the wound, gently removing the gauze. 

“What about me?” he counters.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope.” He’s quiet for a moment. “My ex was a bit of a shit show too.”

“Well I guess we’re kindred in that at least,” you smile, leaning close to get a better look at his shoulder. 

Seungcheol shivers slightly, and you think your breath on his throat must have set him off a little, but he stays silent. You notice his hands balling into fists on his thighs.

“I think your stitching can stay, but I’m going to clean your wound again and rebandage it.”

“Sounds good,” Seungcheol responds gruffly.

“While I’m doing this, do you mind if I ask about your tattoo? This big Elk?” You gently graze your surgical gloved pinky finger down his spine, and Seungcheol shivers again.

“Jesus, don’t do that,” he snaps.

“Sorry. It’s a pretty tattoo, I couldn’t help myself.” Your skin is heating with embarrassment, and you notice Seungcheol’s ears turning red too.

“I uh,” he swallows thickly. “My grandma was a tarot reader. She was always doing these readings, very connected to the Earth and shit. She used to tell me I had an Elk soul, like her. Something about spiritual guidance, protection, kindred souls or some shit. I’m not super into that stuff, but when she died, I kept having these stupid Elk dreams. Sort of felt like she was trying to communicate with me- if you believe in that sort of thing. Anyways, I figured if I got the tattoo, I’d feel closer to her, like she has my back.”

This is not the tattoo explanation you’d ever considered would come from a man like Seungcheol, and it takes you a few moments to register it and decide on a response.

“It sounds like you were very close with your grandma, I’m sorry that she passed.”

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol shrugs it off. “Shit happens.”

And just like that, he’s closing up again.

You wonder if you should tell him about your tarot connections, but you don’t want to sound like some crazy chick if you mention your spirit guides pointing you toward an Elk. Instead, you bite your tongue as you finish up his wound. 

“All done,” you announce.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything as he stands up and puts on his shirt. “What’s your address?” he asks, pulling out his phone.

You show him on the maps where you live. “Are you sure you want to give me a ride? Don’t you have… clients?”

“I can get you home and be back in time for my next appointment,” he assures you. “Think of this as another way of saying thank you for fixing me up.”

So far, he’s shown two love languages. He’s bought you a drink, and now he’s doing an act of service. He’d seemed hesitant on touch today, unlike last night when he’d been drinking, and you wonder what his history in relationships is like.

It sounds like you’ve both had shitty past experiences.

You just want to figure him out.

“Have you been on a bike before?” Seungcheol asks, grabbing a small black fullface helmet off a shelf of motorcycle memorabilia. 

“No.”

“Are you scared?”

“More tired than anything else,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, my Harley has a sissy bar, so you’ll be okay.”

You don’t even know what a sissy bar is, but you follow Seungcheol out to his bike anyways. 

“Here, we can put your stuff in my saddlebag,” he explains, opening a large additional compartment near the back tire of his bike. “I don’t always ride with these, but for whatever reason, I thought it would be a good idea to have them on today.”

He helps you put your work bag in his bike, and then, he helps you with your helmet, his fingers delicately grazing your throat as he tightens the strap there.

“If anything is wrong, just tap my thigh,” he tells you, swinging a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

Even with layers of protection over your ears from the helmet, his Harley is loud. It purrs, like a lion, and you stand in a daze for a moment before he makes a motion for you to hop on. 

You’re careful of his injured shoulder as you slowly get on the bike, adjusting yourself on the seat. 

Seungcheol reaches for your hand, settling it on his hip. He opens his visor. “Ready?”

You nod.

He nods back, and the bike roars to life. He pulls out of the parking spot, and you hold on tighter, thankful for the additional padding of a safety bar behind your back- is this the sissy bar he was talking about? 

You can’t dwell on motorcycle terms as Seungcheol gets onto the street, the bike moving even faster. The feeling of summer air is hot but pleasant on your skin as you ride between cars. You get the sneaking suspicion that Seungcheol is holding back on his driving-

You could imagine him weaving between vehicles and being a general menace on his bike, but with you on the back, he’s trying his best to be a gentleman.

You’re shocked at the trust you already have in this man. A man who a little over twelve hours ago, was a stranger.

You’ve never considered yourself an adrenaline junkie, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, everything else slips away.

You’re at your home before you know it, and you almost feel sad when Seungcheol pulls up to the curb. He motions for you to get off, and he joins you on the sidewalk a moment later, quickly helping you with your helmet.

“How was it?” he asks.

“That was super fun,” you tell him, beaming.

Seungcheol grins when he sees the expression on your face. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Listen, keep the helmet for now,” Seungcheol says. “I have your number and I know where you live, so I’ll come back for it.”

You feel your expression drop, and Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, concern written on his face.

“You good?”

“I just-” you swallow thickly. “Sorry, my uh- my ex used to say that to me. That he knew where I lived when I broke up with him. It felt like a threat, and it’s one of the reasons I had to move a couple of months ago.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “Fuck that guy.”

You nod. “Fuck that guy.”

Five:

You’ve had Seungcheol stuck in your head. After he’d dropped you off, it had been hard to sleep, your mind preoccupied with his answer about his tattoo. When you’d finally woken up hours later, you hadn’t been able to help yourself, you’d pulled out your tarot deck.

“Spirit,” you’d breathed. “I think I may have met him. The Elk. And even though you’ve given me the sign with his tattoo, I feel like I need more confirmation. I’m going to shuffle, and if this is meant for me, can you please give me a love card?”

There are numerous cards within the deck that talk about relationships, partnerships and new beginnings, and you’re hoping that one pops out.

You begin to shuffle, closing your eyes and taking it easy.

It’s about a minute before a card pops out. It’s upside down on your coffee table. 

You take a deep breath, slowly reaching out to flip the card.

The Two of Cups stares up at you, and you don’t even have to open your tarot guide book to know what that means. It’s a card of unity, of partnership. Other than the Lovers, it’s one of the most clear relationship cards you can get. 

You stare at it for a long while. The Elk may have been a coincidence. The fact that his own late grandmother had been a tarot reader may have been a coincidence. But pulling the Two of Cups, out of any other card, when seaking confirmation- this feels like fate. 

Part of you wants to be extra sure and ask for the lovers card, but you also think this might be a good time to trust your spirit team. They’ve guided you twice now, and maybe you have to look inward.

Why are you so cautious that Seungcheol might be the one?

Are you ready for a new relationship?

You’d thought you were ready- and here you are, meeting a man who fits your type-

Maybe it’s the fact that he is your type that you’re worried. What if he turns out to be a dickhead like the last ones? You’re still holding onto a lot of fear. You want to protect yourself, which you validate as a legitimate concern.

But… are you going to spend the rest of your life frightened?

Or are you going to try to let go of those fears and learn to trust again, even if it ends up biting you in the ass?

The possible risk is heartbreak, but the possible reward is endless happiness.

Fate can only do so much, this is the part where your own actions will dictate the future.

Six:

“So, how’s that dude with the tattoos doing?” Joshua asks, taking a seat next to you in the nursing station when things have finally calmed down.

“Cheol? I uh… haven’t talked to him since he dropped me off at my place two days ago.”

“Is that good or bad?” 

You shrug. “I’m not sure. We’re both busy people. I work here, and he owns a tattoo shop.”

“I guess that’s true,” Joshua nods. “Maybe you should call him and see how he’s doing?”

You quirk a brow at your friend. “What’s your angle here?”

Now it’s Joshua’s turn to shrug his shoulders. “No angle. I think, as your friend, sometimes it’s important to give you a little push. After all, your tarot said he’s your soulmate.”

Joshua’s one of your only coworkers who you’ve felt comfortable opening up to. He knows about all your spiritual inklings, and you’d filled him in on your whole Elk, Leo, Two of Cups fiasco yesterday. 

“Fine, I’ll give him a quick call,” you sigh. “Strictly as a nurse who wants to see how the wound is doing.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Joshua grins.

You roll your eyes at him, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Seungcheol answers on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hi, how are you doing?” you ask, putting him on speaker phone. Joshua might be encouraging you to do this as a friend, but you know better than anyone that he also loves some good tea.

“Doing okay.”

“And your shoulder?”

“Good as far as I know… why? You worried about me?” You can hear the grin in his voice, the fact that he’s loving the concern you have for him. “I’ve had worse, you know.”

“I’d just hate for it to get infected,” you sigh.

“Look, if you want to do your due diligence as a nurse and everything, how about you get drinks with me and assess it yourself?” he suggests.

Joshua grabs your thigh, eyes widening, waiting on what you’ll say next.

“We could do that,” you respond.

“Sounds good, when are you free?”

“I’m off tomorrow.”

“How do you feel about eight o’clock?” 

“That works,” you nod.

“I’ll pick you up at eight then, and bring your helmet.”

You find yourself smiling. “Will do.”

“It’s a date. See you then.”

“Bye, Cheol.”

Your heart is racing as you hang up the phone, and Joshua immediately repeats Seungcheol’s words, “It’s a date.” 

“It’s a date,” you respond, jittery at the idea.

“Some guys are assholes and say ‘let’s hang out,’ but this one says ‘it’s a date.’”

“That’s a good sign,” you insist.

“A very good sign,” Joshua agrees. “If this dude ends up being the one, I might just have to get into tarot.”

Seven:

You’re surprised to find yourself playing nighttime mini golf with Seungcheol on your date. “What happened to drinks?” you ask as he pays for your tickets and grabs your clubs from the attendant.

He shrugs. “Figured you’re a nurse so you might not wanna get on my motorcycle after I had a few drinks, also the fact that you were designated driver last time I saw you at a bar- I thought this might be more your style. But, I’ll warn you, I’m not going to go easy on ya.”

You laugh, pleasantly surprised at how astute this man can be. “I think this will be fun.”

“Me too.”

Seungcheol’s wearing black jeans and a charcoal v-neck that shows off his strong shoulders. He’s the epitome of your type: a bad boy with tattoos. Yet, when you begin to play, he’s shockingly patient.

“Let me show you how to hold the club,” he suggests on the second hole, waiting for you to nod before he steps behind you and wraps his body around your own. “Feet positioning is key.” He also gently adjusts your hands, and your heart leaps in your chest when he breathes against your throat. “It might take some time to get used to,” Seungcheol warns, “so don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t come naturally.”

You hit the golf ball, and it goes a lot closer to the hole than your first shot had.

“Did it take a while for you to get into mini golf?” you ask.

“Nah, I was always a natural,” he teases, flashing you a wink before he takes his own shot.

You admire the way his shoulders look with his back to you. “So what got you into being a tattoo artist? Into having your own place?” 

“Well, my grandma passed, and she left me a pretty big inheritance. She always thought I could succeed as a tattoo artist, but before that I was stuck doing blue collar type shit. I think, the money was her final way of telling me to follow my dreams. I’m kind of obsessed with ink, if you haven’t noticed.” He holds out his arms, which are littered with patchwork. “How about you? How does someone get into being an emergency room nurse?”

“I just like helping people,” you explain. “When I was a kid, I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars. I’d always been scared of hospitals, but the nurse who helped me in emergency was an angel. She made it less scary, and when it was over, I realized I wanted to be just like her. When people come into the emergency room, it’s never fun. It’s frightening, and cold- and I want to be there for people who are going through that, to be a warm, friendly face.”

“My grandma had a light worker's soul too,” Seungcheol nods. “That’s what she always called it anyways. She wasn’t ever officially trained, but in her later years she got into herbal medicine. Anytime I was sick it was lemon and garlic chicken noodle soup with bone broths and the works- always made me feel a lot better.”

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

“She was,” Seungcheol agrees. “I don’t know you that well yet, but I think she would have liked you.”

You grin. “Is that an important trait you look for when taking girls to mini golf?” 

Seungcheol lets out a laugh. “It should be. My last ex wouldn’t have fit the bill, and at the time, I thought that was okay, but it didn’t end well.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll talk about mine if you talk about yours,” he suggests. “You said your last boyfriend was a creep when you broke up, threatened to come to your place and shit, he sounds like a piece of work.”

“He was,” you sigh. “I’ve got this thing for big tattooed men, bad boy types. It always leads to me getting my heart broken. He would tell me I was the one and everything, but I found out he was cheating on me with some waitress at the bar he used to go to all the time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… I’m your type.” Seungcheol flashes you a wink and you roll your eyes at him. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m sorry to hear that. Cheaters are the fucking worst.”

“Sounds like you’ve experienced something like that too.” 

“Looks like both of our ex’s were cheating fucks,” Seungcheol says. “I know it’s a red flag to talk shit about your ex or whatever, but some ex’s deserved to be talked bad about.”

You nod. “A hundred percent.”

“Did you think you were going to be with your last one forever?” Seungcheol asks after a moment.

“I thought so.”

“Me too with mine, I was just about ready to get her a ring.” He frowns, looking down at his golf ball. With a sigh, he easily knocks it into the hole. “Well, this is just the way life happens I guess.”

It’s clear you both have very similar wounds. You’re shocked at how easy it is to talk about this with Seungcheol. Some people say not to talk about ex’s on dates with new people, but this almost feels therapeutic. You understand Seungcheol better, and you’re sure he understands you too.

It’s promising to know he thinks about the future, that he’s ready to settle down, not all men are.

Maybe you’re both in the same boat with all of this, and that’s a hopeful thought.

Eight: 

Seungcheol can’t seem to get you out of his head. 

He’d never thought of himself as a particularly superstitious man. His grandma had been spiritual, and he’d always loved that aspect of her. He’d enjoyed doing tarot readings and making all sorts of elixirs with her in the garden. She’d told him he’d be a successful tattoo artist, she’d seen it in the stars, and while she’d been a big part of making that premonition come true, he wonders what else she might be right about.

Seungcheol’s grandma had always told him he’d end up with a healer like her. A doctor, a psychiatrist, a nurse- she wasn’t very specific, but she’d said his soul would call in a light worker when the time was right.

He feels drawn to you, his little emergency room nurse, designated driver, light worker. 

It’s been such a short amount of time, but there’s something unexplainable about the way he feels.

“You look distracted,” Mingyu muses, coming to join Seungcheol outside the tattoo parlour where he’s puffing on his vape.

“Just thinking.”

“About your birthday party tonight, or that girl you brought through the other day?” Mingyu presses, grinning as he bumps his shoulder against Seungcheol’s. 

Seungcheol can’t help but sigh at his friend’s prying ways. 

“Look you don’t have to tell me anything, but summer is almost over and you need a backpack. My angel has been surrounded by testosterone motorcycle rides for months, and we’d all love another girl to be part of the group. You should invite her out tonight.”

Of course Mingyu’s coming at this from an angle of having a girlfriend. He and Wonwoo are obsessed with their ‘little angel,’ and Mingyu’s always talking about the joys of being in a relationship. It can get somewhat tedious for Seungcheol.

“Don’t you have a client soon?” Seungcheol sighs.

“Point taken, I’ll leave you be,” Mingyu says, patting him on the shoulder. 

As soon as his friend is inside, Seungcheol pulls out his phone. He thinks about what he’s going to say to you, before typing out an easy, “Up to anything tonight?”

He’s shocked by how quick your response is. “It’s Sunmi’s birthday this week so we’re celebrating tonight since it’s Saturday.”

Seungcheol’s mood drops, and a moment later, you’re calling him.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you respond. “How are you doing?”

“Not so bad.” He wants to tell you that it’s his birthday tonight, wants to try to convince you to come, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to guilt you, doesn’t want to mess up your plans. “What’s up?”

“I just… I know we’ve only gone on one actual date, and I only met you a week ago, but… I just want you to know, when I go out tonight, I’m not going to be hitting on anyone or anything.”

He’s taken aback for a moment. “I wasn’t really worried about that.”

“Okay! Good! I just- I know with your ex and everything- and I just, I figured I’d clarify, even though we’ve only been on one date, I’m a one guy at a time kind of girl.”

He respects that you’re so direct about this, and he appreciates your loyalty. You really are a good person. 

“I’m a one girl at a time kind of guy,” Seungcheol says finally. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.”

“Me too.” He can hear your smile, and it makes his heart swell. 

“Anyways, I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight.”

“I will, bye, Cheol.”

Nine:

You’re having a great night. The drinks have been flowing, and you’re having a fun time celebrating Sunmi’s birthday. Things are fuzzy in the best way- until you hear a familiar voice say your name.

You turn to find your ex standing close to you at the bar, and your heart sinks in your chest.

“It’s been a while,” your ex states.

You can’t even find the words to speak, suddenly getting drunk seems like a horrible idea.

You’ve just started to feel safe again, to feel stable- you’d thought being out with your friends, you could let loose, but now your ex is here and your heart is beginning to race.

“Have you been drinking?” your ex asks, coming to stand closer to you at the bar top, where you’d been sipping a gin and tonic. 

“I, uh-” your words catch in your throat, and you swallow thickly. “It’s Sunmin’s birthday.”

Your ex nods, and when you look toward your table, you see Sunmin gaping at you.

Turning away from Sunmi, your ex addresses you. “Is she still a huge bitch?”

“I-” you want to defend your friend, but you feel frozen. You can’t think- you’re completely overwhelmed, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, your heart like thunder in your chest.

“We need to talk,” your ex says next. “Come outside with me.”

He grabs your arm, and then a hand wraps around yours. You turn to see Sunmi standing there, glaring at your ex. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she asks.

“Y/N and I need to have a chat outside,” your ex sighs, being very dismissive.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you,” Sunmi insists. “Honey, do you want to go with him?”

You quickly shake your head, moving closer to your friend for safety.

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” your ex rolls his eyes, tightening his grip on your arm to the point where it almost hurts.

“We’re going to the bathroom,” Sunmi insists, somehow successfully tugging you away from your ex. 

“Run away, but I’ll be right here to talk to her when you’re done.”

It feels like a blur as Sunmi races you to the woman’s washroom. “Y/N,” she helps you to the sink, looking at your face. “Are you okay?”

“I-”

Sunmi pulls you to her chest, hugging you deeply. “We’re going to sort this out,” she promises.

“How?” You feel like crying. All the emotions come flooding back, the fear, the helplessness-

“We’re going to call Seungcheol.”

“What?” You’re in shock. “We can’t do that!”

“We can, and we will. Men like your ex only respond to other men. We’re calling him. Give me your phone.”

Reluctantly, you hand Sunmi your cell, turning on the sink to splash your arms with cold water.

“Hi, Seungcheol?” There’s a pause. “No, this is Sunmi. I’m out with y/n, we’re at a bar on Elm and fifth street, her ex just showed up- okay, okay, yeah, we’re in the bathroom in the back.”

She hangs up and you look to her for an explanation.

Your friend lets out a sigh. “As soon as I said your ex was here, Seungcheol said to give him five minutes. I’m going to keep you here and he’ll come get us, okay?”

You nod. “I’m sorry to ruin your birthday.”

“Honey, you’re not ruining anything,” she assures you, pulling you in for another hug. 

You hold back tears while you wait with Sunmi, and in no time at all, there’s a knock on the bathroom door. Seungcheol pokes his head in, and you see his expression drop when he sees you.

“What happened?” he growls, coming to join you.

“Her ex was trying to drag her outside-” Sunmi tries to explain.

“He touched you?” Seungcheol asks, anger laced in his words.

You nod, pointing to your forearm. 

“Grabbed is more like it,” Sunmi breathes.

“Okay,” Seungcheol nods. “Okay, I’ll get you out of here. Just hold onto me and we’ll get out of here.”

You nod again, allowing Seungcheol to gently take your hand. He guides you out of the bathroom, and you huddle close to his side as he walks you through the bar- you almost think things will go smoothly when your ex steps in front of you.

“Who’s this, you’re new boyfriend?” he asks, venom dripping from his words.

Seungcheol stops in his tracks. “So you must be the dip shit ex.”

“Say that again, asshole,” your ex growls, eyes narrowing.

“You must be-” Seungcheol broadens his shoulders, “the dip shit ex.”

Your ex releases a laugh, and then he’s taking a swing. It feels slow and fast at the same time, Sunmi tears you away from Seungcheol, who dodges the punch easily, only to land a blow to your ex’s stomach-

“Y/N! Sunmi!” Mingyu’s voice appears out of nowhere, and suddenly two strong arms are wrapping around you and your friend. “Outside!”

Mingyu keeps you close as he gets you and Sunmi out of the bar while a commotion ensues in your wake. Four motorcycles are pulled up on the curb. You recognize Vernon, and there’s another man you’ve never seen before.

“Cheol’s starting shit,” Mingyu tells his friends quickly.

“We heard your ex was here?” Vernon offers, giving you a sympathetic look.

“He threw a swing at Cheol when I got inside,” Mingyu tries to explain. “Y/N, we’re going to get you out of here, Wonwoo pass me the spare helmet from the saddlebag.”

“What about Seungcheol?” you ask, watching the men fuss.

“He can take care of himself,” Mingyu assures you, helping you put on the helmet.

“Cheol will meet us at our place,” the new man, Wonwoo, says. “When he gets hot like this, he doesn’t drive very safely.”

“Trust us,” Mingyu pleads. “We just gotta get you out of here, your ex made the first swing, and nothing good can come from this now.”

You turn to Sunmi and she squeezes your hand. “It’s okay, get out of here. I’ll text you what happens.”

You can’t even think as Mingyu gets onto his bike and you awkwardly take the seat behind him. You can’t comprehend how things happened the way they did- how fast the altercation had been before your ex had taken a go at Seungcheol.

As you leave the bar, heart thundering in your chest, it’s the most you can do to try to slow your breathing, your body still carrying the trauma that you’d endured with your ex, the wound you’d thought was healed now torn open.

Ten:

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask as Mingyu covers you with a large fluffy blanket on his couch. “I mean- you just said your girlfriend is four months pregnant and sleeping in the other room-”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu assures you.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You’d found your ability to speak again once you felt safe and in Mingyu’s apartment, and now, you can’t help the anxiety bubbling inside of you. You feel like a burden- and it’s an all too familiar feeling from your time with your ex.

“You didn’t ruin it, we were almost done anyways,” Wonwoo notes. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Y/N, deep breaths,” Mingyu tells you, sitting on the couch next to you, offering your calf a reassuring squeeze.

“Is Cheol going to be okay?” you ask.

“He’s going to be fine, that man has never lost a fight,” Mingyu explains, smiling softly.

In the distance, you hear an engine revving, and Wonwoo sighs. “There he is.”

Not even five minutes later, Seungcheol is practically bursting through the door. His eyes find you on the couch, and you’re quick to stand, allowing him to envelop you in a hug. His heart is racing in his chest, he’s clearly panicked, and when he pulls away, he looks down at you with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” he questions, cupping your face as if checking you for injury.

“I’m okay, are you okay?” you retort.

“Just a few bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

You find yourself laughing, and as you laugh, your eyes well up with tears. Now that he’s here, you finally feel like you can take a deep breath, and he’s quick to tug you back to his chest as you cry.

“I’m going to give you a moment, then I’m going to take you home,” he tells you, hand smoothing up and down your back.

You stay in his arms until you feel a bit better, and when you pull away, Mingyu is offering you a tissue. You clean yourself up, say your goodbyes, then Seungcheol walks you out with the spare helmet in hand.

He doesn’t say anything on the way down, but at the bike, he hands you his fullface. “Want you protected,” he tells you, grabbing the bucket helmet from your grasp.

You nod, putting on the helmet and allowing him to help you fasten it up. 

You’re quiet as you both get onto the bike, and Seungcheol adjusts your hand to his hip, squeezing gently. 

The bike roars to life and you take off.

It’s a different feeling to be on a motorcycle while still a little drunk, and you find yourself throwing your head back to look up at the night sky. 

You’ve seen the stars before, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, it feels like you're experiencing them for the first time. 

You lose track of time doing this, and the ride is done sooner than you’d like when he pulls up to your building. “Come on, baby,” he says softly, helping you take off your helmet. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

He holds your hand, helping you with your keys to get into the apartment complex. The elevator ride is quiet, but his hand is a reassuring constant, warm and large wrapped around your own.

He’s never been to your place, and you feel a little self conscious as you open up your door. It’s a modest apartment, one bedroom- there’s really nothing to be insecure about, but you think maybe your anxiety from the bar incident is just making you a little crazy.

“How about you sit down, and I’ll get you some water?” he suggests, helping you to the couch.

You kick off your high heels, curling up on the cushions while Seungcheol putters around your kitchen. He already looks like he belongs here, and for a brief moment, you can forget about your ex.

Seungcheol rejoins you on the couch, handing you the cup. “Here.” 

“Thank you.”

You sip on your water, trying to breathe properly again.

Seungcheol gives you the space to unwind. He doesn’t pester you with questions about the altercation with your ex at the bar, and you’re grateful for it.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks finally.

You shake your head, your eyes dropping to his hands. “You’re hurt though.”

“Just bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

“There’s blood,” you insist. “I’ll-”

“Tell me where your first aid kit is and I’ll grab it.” 

You direct him to the cupboard in your bathroom, and he returns with it, setting the case onto your coffee table. 

“How’s your shoulder?” you ask as you take out the tools you’ll need.

“Almost better, I heal fast,” he says softly.

It feels good to focus on his wounds rather than your own, and you gently clean the scrapes on his hand. His right fist is pretty badly bruised, and you do your best to treat it. Then you begin to slowly wrap his knuckles, taking your time. Two wraps around his wrist, diagonal across the top to his pinky, under the hand, to the pointer, diagonal- 

It’s a nice repetition of motions, and when you’re all done, you lift his hand to your lips, gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “All better.”

You look up at Seungcheol, and he stares back.

Then, he slowly moves in, carefully watching your expression. He stops just an inch from your lips, and you can feel his breath on your face. He’s waiting for you to make the final move, for you to be the one with control.

With one last look at your beautiful, dark protector, you close the distance.

It’s a soft kiss, not the kind of first kiss you’ve ever had before. Seungcheol doesn’t immediately try to dominate you like men in the past have, he lets you set the pace. You lean in closer, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself as you deepen the kiss. 

Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you, and it’s a somewhat awkward position on the couch like this, so he simply pulls you onto his lap. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, allowing all your anxiety to dissipate while you enjoy the safety Seungcheol provides. 

After a while, Seungcheol pulls away, and you’re both breathing heavily. 

“How… how do your knuckles feel?” you ask.

He laughs, looking down at his hands. “I might black out my fingers when this is all healed,” he admits. “I get into too many barfights. My grandma used to say it was the Leo in me.”

“The Leo in you?” you repeat, heard thumping wildly in your chest.

“Yeah, I uh…” he lets out a soft chuckle, “I didn’t wanna pressure you to come out or anything after I heard you were at a friend’s birthday party, but it’s sort of my birthday today.”

You’re frozen for a moment. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a Leo,” you say again.

“Uh huh. You’re not about to tell me some weird zodiac rule about our signs not being compatible, are you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You take a deep breath. Just a short time ago, you’d decided not to tell him about the Elk tattoo meaning, and now here you are, about to tell him everything. 

You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from the bar situation, or the slight tipsyness, but you think fuck it, if he could tell you about his tarot loving grandmother, you can tell him about this.

“A few months ago, I did a reading,” you begin to explain.

“A tarot reading,” he clarifies.

“Yeah. And I asked my guides to show me a spirit animal card that would be a tattoo on the person I’m supposed to be with. The card came up as an Elk- and before you tell me it’s a very common tattoo, I know it is, which is why I asked for further clarification with them telling me the zodiac of this person too-”

“And they said Leo,” he breathes.

You nod. “Then, when I met you, the Elk lined up, but I still wasn’t sure, so I did another reading on us, and the Two of Cups came out, it’s a love card. So with those two cards, and now the fact that you’re a Leo-”

“Is this your way of telling me you think I’m your soulmate?” Seungcheol grins.

“God, I should have guessed you’re a fucking Leo,” you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be rude,” he tuts, gently pinching your hip. “If it’s any consolation, my grandmother always told me I’d end up with someone in the medical field, and you’re an ER nurse.”

“She really said that?” you ask.

“Uh huh.” Seungcheol’s gaze dips to your lips then back up again. “I wonder if she saw this future.”

Your heart melts. After your last relationship, where the lovebombing came on fast, you’d promised yourself not to get burned by that sort of thing again- but here you are, falling for Seungcheol way quicker than you ever have with anyone else in the past.

Even so, something about this feels so right.

You let out a breath. “One time with the Elk may have been coincidence. Two times with the Two of Cups card was a little odd. But three times with your Leo Zodiac-”

“I guess the question is, do you believe in fate?” Seungcheol moves closer.

“I think you know that I do,” you laugh.

Seungcheol’s hands squeeze your hips, and he doesn’t say anything else as he brings his mouth to yours.

You kiss him eagerly, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your chests together. His tongue glides against your own and it feels like magic- there’s a bulge growing in his pants, and you can’t help but begin to grind down against him.

Seungcheol releases a small groan and it’s music to your ears, prompting you to apply more pressure to his cock when you wriggle against him.

With a sigh, Seungcheol pulls away. “Baby,” he says softly, “you’ve been drinking and I don’t want to take advantage tonight-”

“I swear that whole situation with my ex sobered me up,” you admit. “Besides, maybe I want to give you a birthday present.” 

“A birthday present?” he repeats with a chuckle.

You nod. “Cheol, I haven’t even kissed anyone in months- I’m already practically drenched from making out, you won’t make me wait even longer, will you?”

He studies your face, and you can see the moment he folds. “We can do this, but at any point if I think you look drunk, we have to stop. I don’t want you to regret this being our first time.”

“I could never regret this,” you promise, leaning in to press your lips to his throat.

Seungcheol throws his head back, his fingers digging into your hips again. The low moan he releases tells you that he has a sensitive neck, and you enjoy simply teasing him for a minute while you mentally prep yourself for what’s to come next.

You do want to move on, and this is one of those steps.

You’re not afraid of it. You had been frightened about intimacy with someone new, but Seungcheol makes you feel more safe than you’ve ever felt in your life.

You want this. 

You shift a little on Seungcheol’s lap, reaching down to cup his cock with your palm. 

Seungcheol swallows thickly, his hands smoothing up and down your hips. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You don’t want me to take care of you?”

“It’s your birthday,” you point out. “And you took care of me at the bar, I think it’s my turn to show some appreciation.”

He doesn’t argue with you, and you can feel the tension leaving his shoulders. He lets out a deep breath. “I know it’s early,” he says, “but… if we do this, I don’t want any confusion. I want you to know that you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“Honestly? I’ve been yours since practically the moment I saw you take your shirt off so I could clean your shoulder wound.”

Seungcheol releases a chuckle. “Really?”

“Uh huh, you make me fucking feral.”

He lets out a groan of appreciation. “It’s been hard to control myself too. That day at the studio, when you touched my back tattoo- I was so close to breaking. Wanted to throw you onto my desk and make you feel good.”

You imagine what that would have been like, and it makes you moan. “Why didn’t you?”

“I could tell you had a past, and I didn’t want to scare you off,” he admits. “I’ve been… trying to be a good boy.”

Your bad boy trying to be good to make you comfortable. You really hit the jackpot with Seungcheol.

“Cheol, I’ve told you I have a thing for bad boys,” you tease.

“So maybe I should take control right now,” he suggests with a grin.

“Let me suck you off, and then you can take control,” you tell him, pulling away. “I’m going to get on my knees now.”

Seungcheol watches you slip onto the floor infront of him, and your hands find his belt. You try to focus on your task of getting his pants off, but you enjoy sneaking glances at him, seeing his pretty face as he tries to keep composure.

He lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans down, and his cock slaps up against his lower abdomen, hard and already leaking.

He’s a decent size, somewhere between six and seven inches, and his cock is as girthy as the rest of him. You lick your lips, grabbing the base so you can adjust him toward your mouth as you lean in.

“No teasing,” Seungcheol warns, voice softening when he says, “please.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar,” he laughs, reaching out to stroke your head.

You slip the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue. 

“And that’s the teasing I was talking about,” Seungcheol muses. “Feels good though.”

You sink further down onto him, beginning to suck as you move up and down.

“Fuck, that feels even better,” he groans.

When you were with your ex, blow jobs were an expectation, and because of that, you never really enjoyed them. There’s something powerful about doing this of your own volition, about making the conscious choice to pleasure Seungcheol.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the motion of providing this for him. Hallowing your cheeks, you suck hard when you’re near the tip, and Seungcheol groans loudly, shifting further down on the couch so you’re not bent over him in such an awkward position.

“You’re good at that, baby,” Seungcheol says. “But there’s only one birthday present I’d enjoy more than this.”

You let out a “hmm?” sound, an inquiry.

“When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

Your pussy throbs at his words, and you increase your speed on his cock, letting out a moan of appreciation. 

“Yeah? You like that?” he asks. “Say the word, baby, and I’ll make it happen.”

You pull off of him, your hand smoothing up from base to tip to pump him while you address your beautiful dark protector. “I just want to make you feel good a little while longer.”

His expression softens. “Making me feel really good.”

You grin, returning to your task. 

Seungcheol’s hand is gentle in your hair. He caresses you while you suck him off, never applying pressure or trying to get you to deep throat him. It’s an ever constant, soft touch, and you’re shocked at how much of a gentleman this heavily tattooed, bar fighting, Leo can be. 

“Baby?” His voice draws you from your thoughts. “I know I said you could say the word and be done, but- this feels too good, and I don’t wanna bust the moment I begin to fuck you.”

You pull off of his cock with a pop, smiling up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He lets out a shaky breath and grins. “Where’s your bedroom, gorgeous?”

“Right there.” You point at the door adjacent to the living room.

“Come on, baby, it’s my turn to take care of you.” He helps you to your feet, pulling his pants back up, and you’re shocked when he throws you over his uninjured shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom while you erupt in a fit of butterfly fueled giggles.

Seungcheol lays you softly onto your bed, staring down at you. He takes in your silky shirt and your dress pants, you like to be more classy when you go out, to keep up with your reputation as a nurse.

The two of you are very different people. He’s black ripped jeans, plain tshirts and tattoos. And you’re classy outfits, scrubs, and a healer’s touch. Somehow, even with these differences, the two of you work. Like Yin and Yang, complementary forces, light and dark.

“Can I take these off for you?” he asks, tugging at your pant leg.

You nod, watching the way he begins to undo your button and zipper. He’s slow with his motions, precise. It’s not a rush to get you naked, it’s an enjoyed exploration, and you love the way his eyes glow when you lift your hips to allow him to pull the fabric off your lower half.

“You’re so pretty,” Seungcheol muses.

“Yeah?”

“That day you were in my shop with your friend, doing a consult with Vernon- I was trying to act like I was watching my newest apprentice work, but… I kept looking at you. And then, outside the bar, when you showed up again-” Seungcheol shakes his head, his hand smoothing along your leg gently. “Baby, you’re going to turn me into a believer.”

“Invisible string theory, perhaps,” you grin.

Seungcheol chuckles. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

He takes off his own shirt, and you watch the way his muscles move under his skin. He’s littered in tattoos, patchwork on his arms and chest. There must be a hundred small to medium sized tattoos, and you want to know the story behind each and every one.

But there’s a time and a place for that, and right now, you’re eager for something else.

Seungcheol gets on top of you, and you immediately thread your fingers through his soft dark hair, pulling his lips to your own.

Your free hand explores his muscular shoulders, careful of the bandage still on his bar wound, and you’re practically tingling with how attracted you are to this man.

He kisses you deeply, cupping your face while his other hand braces him to the bed over top of you.

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and he grinds against your panty clad core.

The pressure on your clit has you moaning, and Seungcheol responds by kissing down your throat. He licks at your collarbone, and then his hand moves from your cheek to your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asks.

“Uh huh, there’s a tie at the back.”

Seungcheol pulls off of you, and in one motion, he flips you onto your stomach. His warm hand smooths over your shoulder, toying with the tie there.

You hold your breath in anticipation as he begins to undo the corset style back of your slinky top. He leans over you, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck that makes your body erupt in goosebumps. 

You enjoy the way he takes his time with your shirt, and he slowly helps you slip it off. You’re laying flat on his bed, your tits pressed to the comforter, while Seungcheol explores your back with his hands. He traces the curvature of your sides, pressing kisses along your spine. Soft curls tickle your skin, and you’re grinning like the Cheshire Cat at how good this feels.

Seungcheol flips you over again, and his gaze dips to your exposed breasts. “You’re so pretty,” he muses, gently groping your chest, his thumb grazing over your nipple. You watch him swallow thickly, and then he’s leaning over, taking the sensitive bud in his mouth while you tangle your fingers in his curls again.

With his mouth on your breast, his free hand slips down your body, and he tugs your panties down just enough for him to access your core.

Two digits rub between your pussy lips and you feel him smile against your nipple. “You weren’t lying about being wet, baby.”

“Would never lie to you,” you breathe out shakily.

“No?” He circles your clit and you moan loudly. 

“Never,” you repeat, pushing your hips up toward his hand, needing more friction.

Seungcheol rewards you by slipping both of his digits into your wet core, pressing his palm to your clit as he begins to finger fuck you. He sucks on your breast while he does this, and you’re lost in the sensations he provides.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you whimper when his teeth graze your nipple, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers.

“Wanna make you cum,” Seungcheol says, pulling away from your breast to look down at you.

“Then make me cum,” you respond, nodding at him.

Seungcheol presses one last kiss to your lips and then he shifts down the bed, pulling his fingers from your core. He gets onto his knees at the foot of the mattress, dragging you toward himself and pulling your panties off.

He spreads your thighs. “So pretty,” he muses. “Everything about you is so fucking pretty.”

Your skin heats, it can be hard to take a compliment, but something tells you that Seungcheol will get you used to this kind of praise.

He leans forward, eyes meeting yours as he presses a kiss to your clit. You jolt at the small contact, releasing a shaky breath.

No one has eaten you out in months, and your core is already throbbing with anticipation. 

“Gonna take care of you,” Seungcheol promises, and you know that this promise extends far past the sexual setting you’re in right now.

He moves forward again, capturing your clit in his mouth while his digits easily slip into your pussy again.

You throw your head back, enjoying the sensation of him worshiping your cunt. He’s gentle with his motions at first, kitten licking your sensitive bud. You know he’s getting used to your sounds, figuring out what pressure works, what you enjoy, whether thats sucking, or more gentle stimulus.

“Feels good,” you tell him. “Like the way you crook your fingers.”

He responds by applying more pressure to the ‘come hither’ motion he’s making, and you release a whine at how good it feels.

“Just like that,” you whimper.

He sucks your clit harder too, and you moan louder, hips bucking toward his face.

Seungcheol’s free hand finds your lower abdomen and he pins you to his bed, keeping you still while he works on your pussy.

You can feel your walls clenching around him, and Seungcheol releases a groan of pleasure. It adds to your own feeling of euphoria that clearly he’s enjoying this. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’s usually a giver, and the fact that he doesn’t see this as a chore has you able to enjoy it fully, unlike certain past experiences where men had to be begged into eating you out.

Sex with Seungcheol - even foreplay like this - feels so natural. You’re not as in your head as you usually are, with his nonverbal communications and moans, you can be certain he’s enjoying this as much as you are, and it gives you the confidence to give yourself over completely to the pleasure.

Sex should always be like this, you realize.

There’s no pressure, no worrisome thoughts, it’s just two souls connecting physically in a way that’s mutually beneficial. 

Having not been eaten out in a long time, it’s not surprising that you’re extremely sensitive, and Seungcheol works you all the way to the edge before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Cheol-” you whimper, threading your fingers in his hair, “I’m gonna-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, he sucks harshly on your clit, and your words become moans as your orgasm surges through you.

His hand on your abdomen keeps you steady as he works you through your high, sucking on your clit until your legs are shaking on his broad shoulders.

Seungcheol pulls away, and you open your eyes to watch him wipe the back of his mouth, licking his fingers clean. 

“Still want this?” he asks, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his jeans.

“More than anything,” you smile.

A moment later, Seungcheol is as naked as you are, and he gets between your thighs again, lips returning to your own. He doesn’t immediately slip his cock into you, instead, he grinds against your core, teasing your sensitive clit and driving you wild.

You kiss him eagerly, threading your fingers through his hair and groping his muscular shoulders, enjoying the feeling of him despite the need growing inside of you.

You’re reminded again that there’s no rush.

You can take pleasure in this without feeling like you need to be getting fucked to be worth something.

You’re a hundred percent sure that if you’d told Seungcheol you’re not ready for sex, he would have stopped, cuddled you, and not taken it personally. There’s this feeling that Seungcheol is going to be around for a long time- and as crazy as it is with how short of a time you’ve known him, you know that your connection runs deeper than your physical attraction.

Seungcheol shifts slightly, grabbing at his cock. You bite at your lip while you wait for him to line it up with your core, and you break your kiss, panting. Your eyes meet as he slips the head of his length into your wet hole, and you both groan at the feeling.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol moans, sinking in inch by inch. “You feel so fucking good.” 

“You feel better,” you retort, kissing his cheek and nuzzling his nose.

“Impossible,” he grins, burying his face in your throat as he begins to fuck you.

You claw at his shoulders, crying out with each thrust. He fills you so well- he has probably one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever taken, and the way he stretches you out is like heaven, like he was made to be in your pussy.

The sounds he’s making are unlike any other pleasured noises you’ve ever heard.

Nothing has ever felt this right.

Seungcheol’s uninjured hand finds your own, and he laces your fingers, squeezing you reassuringly as he fucks you harder, his speed increasing.

His lips are hot on your neck, and it feels delightful. You love just laying back and taking everything he’s giving you. He’s so big, like a warm, weighted blanket covering your form.

Your toes are already curling at how deep he’s hitting, and your thighs shake desperately around his hips.

“Cheol-”

“Yes, baby?” he asks.

“You just- fuck, this feels so good-”

“You deserve to feel good,” Seungcheol tells you. “You work so hard for others, I’m lucky I get to be the guy working for you.”

Your heart swells at his words. Past boyfriends’ haven't ever truly appreciated how hard it is to be an emergency room nurse. You spend your whole shift taking care of others, and that high pressure, intense mentality bleeds into your personal life. It's a sweet relief to be the one on the receiving end, to relax and know that you can fully give yourself up to the pleasure and desire you feel, without feeling obligated to return this favour with future sexual gratifications.

Seungcheol’s lips meet your own, and you get lost in him, moaning desperately as he works your pussy open.

His thrusts slow, and he stays completely still inside of you for a moment, then pulls away.

“Can you shift onto your side for me?” he asks. “One leg straight on the bed, the other thigh pulled closer to your chest.”

It’s a position you’ve never tried before, but you trust Seungcheol, and you’re quick to adjust. You lay half on your side, one leg stretched between his knees while you bring your other toward your breasts. 

Seungcheol’s warm hand finds your thigh, and he helps bend you, his free hand guiding his cock to your pussy again.

When he pushes in this time, it feels even deeper, and you let out a squeak at the stimulation.

“You like that?” he asks, hand moving from your thigh to your breast, where he gently pinches your nipple.

“So deep- I feel so full-” you whimper.

Seungcheol only grins, and he’s an absolute vision in this position. He’s practically on his knees, and his chest is all exposed and gorgeous. His tattoos are beautiful as he massages your breast with one hand, the other on your thigh, anchoring you while he fucks you.

You’re not sure if it’s the sideways angle or what, but he’s hitting a spot that has your toes curling tight, your pussy clenching.

“Fuck-” you moan.

“Shit, I should have asked this before-” Seungcheol says, voice shaky, “do I need to pull out or-”

“I’m on birth control,” you assure him. “You can cum inside.”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans, rutting into you even harder. 

“Kinda want you to fill me up,” you admit.

“You’re way too sexy, baby, holy shit-”

You can tell your words are doing a number on him, and it makes your core throb with pleasure.

“Can you rub your clit?” he asks. “Want you to cum with me. I hate cumming alone.”

“Yeah.” Your hand slips between your thighs awkwardly, and Seungcheol decreases his pace  to give you a chance to catch up to his pleasure.

His movements are slower now, more precise, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that has you crying out again.

“You look so good like this,” Seungcheol tells you. “My pretty little nurse.”

For some reason, his words just do something to you, and your core throbs even harder. “Cheol, I’m close-” you warn him,

“Tell me when you’re almost there and I’ll go fast again.”

You focus on the sight of him, on the tattoos and muscles, his strong features and the pretty dark curls. His small groans egg you on, and you’re at the edge in no time, giving him a nod. “Okay-”

He releases your breast, using both hands on your leg now to steady himself as he fucks you stupid, your whole body jolting with each motion. You let out a desperate whine, rubbing your clit even harder-

“Fuck, fuck-” Seungcheol groans. “Feels so fucking good- fuck, cum with me, baby, cum with me-”

You moan in response, your core clenching down desperately on his cock as your orgasm explodes through you. Your whole body shivers with endorphins, heart racing in your chest.

Seungcheol throws his head back, releasing an extremely sexy groan as he cums with you, fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts slowly and deeply, working you through your orgasms.

You rub your clit until you can’t take it anymore, tearing your hand away.

Seungcheol slumps forward, stilling completely, and you greedily grab at his shoulders. He collapses half on top of you, and you thread your fingers through his hair, panting hard.

His forehead rests against your own, and you both just try to catch your breath.

You’ve never felt connected to someone the way you feel connected to Seungcheol in this moment. It’s all consuming, and it makes you emotional as you come down from your high.

Seungcheol must notice your shaky breathing because he opens his eyes and looks at you. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m just-” you swallow thickly. “I don’t know-”

You can’t voice it, can’t voice the way you’re feeling. There are so many thoughts swirling around in your head, so many past traumas rearing their ugly faces and making you second guess yourself-

“I’m yours, and you’re mine,” Seungcheol breathes, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, he can clear all of your anxieties, as if he was able to read your mind and see your fears. 

You’ve always been drawn to bad boys, to men who you envision as some kind of dark protector- and now, you think you’ve finally found the right one. 

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! this fic is written in conjunction to my other story 'crossroads,' read more about Mingyu, Wonwoo, and their y/n here

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. Seungcheol’s thrusts get faster, and he rests his forehead against your spine while he rails you into the blow up mattress at a campsite where anyone could walk by. His baby fever is at an all time high, and he’s fucking you like a man who means every word he’s saying.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, sex in a campsite, exhibitionism, staying quiet during sex, pussy eating, fingering, large/muscled/tattooed Cheol, quickie, baby fever, dirty talk, breeding kink, praise, breast worship, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.6k I teaser wc. 180

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

 bonus

It’s been just under a year since you started dating Seungcheol, and through him, you’ve found a family. Many trivia nights, and bowling excursions have been spent with Seungcheol, his friends, Sunmi, her sister, and her sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan. Once you’d met everyone face to face, it had been much easier to track Sunmi’s convoluted explanation of her connection to the tattoo parlour, and it’s been a joy to become so close with so many wonderful people.

Sunmi’s sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, is cousins with Mingyu and Wonwoo’s girlfriend, who’d had a beautiful baby girl this past January, and now, it’s the baby’s first summer. You don’t mind the shift of hang outs to be more baby inclusive, and now, you find yourself at a campsite with the whole gang.

While everyone is quite enamored with the little baby girl, Haesoo, no one is more obsessed than your boyfriend Seungcheol. You always get to see him coddling her while out and about as a group, but in the past three days at this campsite, you’ve contracted a serious case of baby fever.

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[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally. 

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was. 

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :) 

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here. 

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission. 

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could. 

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill. 

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.  

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously. 

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window. 

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt. 

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter. 

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd.  But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the end - Post-apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - So the hunt begins.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader. Omega has a shotgun, I REPEAT, Omega has a shotgun. Mentions of violence.

Prologue Chapter 1

The others looked at Gaz like he had finally lost his marbles but only Soap was the one to speak up and say, "Ye've gone and lost yer mind."

Gaz shook his head and grabbed Soap's wrist, forcing him to kneel down and smell the old blood. He waited for his reaction and Soap sat back, his cold blue eyes wide.

"A 'mega out here? After all this time..." Soap looked to Price and Ghost who both exchanged looks. Price rolled his shoulders and Ghost seemed to relax just a little.

"Well, if there is one we should go and find them," Price finally said.

"And where would that be?" Soap asked but his eyes had already trailed over to the forest at the edge of the town. Large enough to hide a place for an omega to hide.

You triple checked the trap you just set, making sure the string was hidden and that it was ready to go off for the poor alpha's that made the mistake of coming onto your land. Your territory had been littered with traps for years though some had gone into disrepair due to your own negligence.

No matter, you thought as you layered more leaves on top to conceal the pit below, you're sure you'll get them with this.

Back when libraries hadn't been mere ruins with musty, rain ruined books you had developed a small fascination with the tactics and traps the Vietnam soldiers had left for the American ones. Nasty, down right awful traps but they drove America out of their country and you were intent to do the same to these alphas.

But even as you thought about the harm you would bring down upon them like a vengeful goddess, your inner omega had started to awaken more. She scratched and whined at the idea of there not only being one but four alphas near by. After years of nothing but your own fingers and the old dildo, your inner omega was desperate for something.

Yet, there was also confliction.

Yes, the deep seeded desire to be bred by four burly alphas was there but also a certain feral aspect bubbled closer to the surface. This is our land, your omega hissed, ours and they've entered it. We smelt them. They haven't left. She pushed you to make more traps, set deadlier ones.

An agreement had been made, or a compromise. Get the alpha's off your land and if one of them survived, keep him. What the next step would be, neither you or your omega had thought about that. Or if all of them survived.

A twig snapped to your left and it yanked you from your thoughts immediately. You hastily covered the trap further before you scrambled up a near by tree and waited. You fought to scratch at the dried mud caked onto your scent glands. It was damn near stifling. Worse then the stuffing in your nose.

You waited, heart pounding in your chest as you kept listening for more signs. Nothing. You let yourself breathe again and slide down from the tree you had perched in. Then you heard them, eight feet tramped down snow and broke twigs under their weight.

They were so loud.

You turned your head just in time to see a hat above a fern and a peak of something black behind it. Your hand found your shotgun with practiced ease and you stepped back and over your trap for more protection. Then they emerged from the bushes.

May the strongest alpha win

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[lustlovehart]

Prologue Chapter, Beginnings

A/n: Non of the main cast are in this piece, this is just the prologue before the real writing starts buuut they are mentioned if that counts?

Pairing: Monster!Twst x Reader, Ft. Rollo Flamme & Crowley (Voice only).

Summary: Getting rid of things that go bump in the night has always been your job, yet, when the time comes to finally kill them, you can’t bring yourself to do it. Such mistakes, will return their grievances in full, and you’re now made to pay the price of letting monsters continue to live their wretched lives.

Warnings: Bruising, and like maybeeee hints of posseviness?? That’s it though.

Hands, dozens, are maybe more? So many words are being whispered into your ear as each finger practically possesses your body with a desperation akin to hunger.

A snake wraps around your arm, a gargoyle looks down at you, and heat encased your body until it practically swallows you, yet it feels like you're drowning at the same time when sand pours on you. You don’t know what any of it is signaling to you, you’re not even sure if you wish to understand.

“Off with their head!” “Let the tall grass swallow you.” “The deep isn’t so scary when you know what’s in it.” “Wishes are deceiving.” “Reach your full potential here” “… These joints, I can’t stop.” “Is it so bad to sleep in this castle with us?”

These voices sound scarily familiar. Yet, you don’t recall any of their voices despite feeling like you know them on some basis. You don’t move, even when one hand intertwines with your own as if you were a prize to be won, a want or need they must have.

A feint mantra of your name reaches out to you in your dream, a savior from this purgatory. But… there’s something wrong, their attempt to save you, is shrouded in danger. Even when their hand reaches to break you out, the under lying feeling of dread spreads through your body.

Whoever is saving you, is hiding something from you—

“[Name].” Your figure is quick to jump awake, your eyes immediately going blind from the morning sun shining through your windows. When you turn, you’re immediately met with Rollo at your bedside, a cup of tea and warm food in his palm. “Did you plan to sleep in?” It’s typical for him to invite himself into your home, it’s not like you’re opposed anyhow, he feeds you for free, and even cleans your house. When you told him why you don’t feel worry when he enters your abode, he compared you to a wild raccoon. “With your job, you should be more… precise…” his eyes had trailed down from your face to your arm.

His hand slowly gravitates towards you, ringed finger slowly tracing above your skin before grabbing onto you. If you were fully awake, you would’ve questioned why such a small action… was so sensual.

Alas, you’re still tired.

“Pray tell,” lifting the appendage into view, he reveals what it was that caught his attention, “How did you get… These?” Dark bruises have flourished into your skin. “I hope you didn’t lie about going to sleep early.”

“Wha…? I didn’t, I swear. I don’t know what these are…” he eyes you with suspicion before deciding against interrogation. Though that’s always the case, he has a habit of letting go of whatever you say or do with only a slap on the wrist.

“Well, I hope, it doesn’t matter. You’re going to have a very eventful couple of months, Crowley is sending us off for work again,” he takes a seat next to your bedside, patting your lap down to flatten your blanket before setting a tray down with your breakfast. “He says you’re going to those places. ” Before you even have the chance to drink, you’re already putting down the tea, looking back at him in utter confusion.

“… Hah?”

If he’s being truthful, which, he always is, unfortunately, those areas are notorious amongst people of your occupation, said to have the most violent of fiends.

And… Crowley is sending… you??

“I argued with him not to let you go. Jack was very adamant about not letting that happen either. In fact… He seemed more determined than me. Which is a cause for concern.”

“That is concerning… I only have room for one overbearing partner.” His face goes sour at your poorly placed joke, like some miscreant he’s met on the street, rather than one of the few people he doesn’t mind talking to. His expression quickly softens once more when he remembers who it is that said the joke, you “Sorry…”

“The point is, You’re going there, alone.” He emphasizes the word heavily, as if he really needed to remind you just how dire your situation is.

Alone. The words echo through your room like an unspoken curse, condemned to feed your suffrage. If you’re going to be alone, there’s no doubt you’ll go mad from solitude, void of communication for months.

In your state of conflict, a sharp pang is felt in your neck, as if a blade had gone through your skin and cut off all feeling from your body. A sense of foreboding makes your worry only increase.

“Eat now before you leave.” The feeling is gone as quickly as it came. You look back to Rollo, you wonder why Rollo goes out of his way to do what he does for you. He’s a nice distraction from the dreams that cling to your consciousness.

So is Jack… he's kind to you too.

He was stationed in Sunset Savana if you’re correct. Maybe you’ll see him again when you travel to the second location…

You’re pulled out of your trance when the warm feeling of tea dripping down the corner of your mouth is felt, Rollo, being the culprit as he forces you to drink the beverage. “I said eat now.”

You would’ve pinched him if it weren’t for how tired you were, all is forgiven when he wipes the drink from your jaw with that prized handkerchief of his.

The rocky terrain of the floor annoys you to no end, with each step you take a small pebble flies off somewhere to the side. Considering Crowley instructed you to be stealthy, you probably shouldn’t be flinging things around. You don’t care though, you keep doing it the thought of Crowley might’ve increased how much force you put into your kicks.

“Rules must be followed, I don’t appreciate those who don’t obey.”

A chill goes down your spine. Those words are so familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve heard them before…

Before you can keep dwelling on the disembodied memory, you’re suddenly struck by the unfortunate reminder of Crowley, and 7 high-class missions.

7 missions he’s barely compensating you for.

“Greedy bird…” Honestly, you only accept the transfer under Crowley because of Crewel. Your former boss may have been strict, but at least he paid you well and made you somewhat okay with your job. The thought makes you reminisce of simpler times before the sound of a crow echoes through the sky, and a scroll drops on the path in front of you.

You recognize it, it’s a special communicator used among hunters, it’s a bit outdated, but Crowley is insistent on using it. You kneel bunching the paper in your hand, unraveling the parchment.

It’s Crowley. You toss it away. The paper comes back to your feet, freakishly bouncing on the dirt. He’s calling again, and you throw the paper away again. He won’t stop coming back.

“Leave me alone” He’s your boss, you don’t exactly treat him like one though. Knowing the lack of people in the job field, you not dying on the first week of work is rare, making you an asset he can’t just throw away, so in revenge for every act of greed he commits, you return him the attitude of a snarky employee.

Along with that, you’re still spiteful that he made you do this alone rather than with someone like Rollo or Jack.

“Wait! Wait! Don’t hang up! After all my generosity you continue to disregard me, your own boss no less–!”

The sound of paper beginning to tear immediately sets the sheet to panic mode, aggressively shaking to avoid being ripped to shreds.

“Stop, Stop! I have something to tell you about your job, so don’t you dare, little one!” Chances are, he can sense your disappointment on the other side of the line, the both of you simultaneously sighing before he continues the rest of his talk. “Those seven locations, you don’t have to kill them, running them out of the area is all you’re required to do” You pause for a moment, moving off your intended path into a forest. Your connection gets a little choppy, but if it means you don’t have to listen to him anymore, it might be worth it.

“Run them out only? Are you sure that’s all I have to do, don’t we usually kill them?”

“Yes typically but, it seems our dear commissioners only asked to be rid of them, now why would we hunt them when we’re not being paid? That would just be a waste of time.” Your side is completely silent after his statement, concerned hellos beginning to leave Crowley's side of the paper.

“… So you’re stingy.”

“Not stingy! But, we are a business.” You leave him at that, not wanting to draw out an already lengthy conversation. “So, are you ready for your next assignment, little birdie?”

“Unlike you, I’m not cheap so,” snickers are heard from your boss, instead of a retort to such a blow, all he says is a smug “oh?” before the rest of your words spill. “I’ll really get rid of them. For the people.”

You had intended to waste time before heading to your first job, but luck isn’t on your side, as it turns out your off-course path was an accidental shortcut.

Crowley isn’t talking anymore, you must’ve lost connection. You quickly tear the paper in sweet relief… that’s short-lived. Your eyes are magnetized to the sign in front of the eroded building.

“Heartslaybul Hospital” a tinier sign in the corner with sloppy handwriting, which you can only assume to be from a child reads, “For wonderful and rule-abiding patients only!”

You take one glance back at where you came from, your last chance to truly walk away, before heading inside.

When you look back at it after finishing all 7 locations, you truly should’ve just run them out. For once, you wish you had listened to Crowley, maybe doing that, or maybe even sacrificing your pride would’ve worked, turning around and leaving the hospital might’ve been the optimal solution.

It would’ve saved you from your current predicament.

Trapped in a room filled with monstrosities that can no longer bear to let you go.

A/n: Heartslaybul chapter (hopefully) coming very soon *Insert emoji deviously rubbing hands together*. Originally, this Au was meant to be specifically Yandere, but the more I wrote, the more I realized, These monster counterparts, are well, monsters, so I decided, it’s entirely up to you whether or not you want to view it as Yandere or not. With that said, they will still be possessive in some right, so let that help you determine your choice.

[chrissv4mp]

— I COULD CHANGE YOUR LIFE -

the prologue , it was important. — | — ...back — | — next... — |

summary: chris has an obsession with you, one of the most famous pop stars of the last few years. when he goes out to eat at a local diner with some friends, he spots you, and his obsession turns to something bigger.

pairing: stalker!chris sturniolo × singer!reader

warnings + topics: cursing, stalking, murder, weapons, blood, obsessive behavior, suggestive moments, breaking & entering, crying, arguments, chris is crazy, choking, drowning, etc. more than half of these topics are mentioned in later chapters, not the prologue.

author's note: if the person reading this is sensitive to any of the topics listed above, please do not read this. i am not responsible for your own media consumption, and will not change any aspect of the story for your own pleasure.

author's note 2: no but real talk, this is probably the most motivated i've ever been while writing/coming up with a story😭 i really hope all of you enjoy this and please remember this is just my imagination and is not real at all!!!

word count: 1.8k

"don't be afraid of me,

i'm what you need."

chris laughs at his brother's joke, hand landing on matt's shoulder as he clings onto the brunette boy. nick just chuckles, glancing over at madison only to see her laughing her ass off as well.

nate smiles at matt, taking a quick look at chris before he lets out a quiet giggle. chris was always making the group laugh, he was just unintentionally funny at times.

chris begins to tickle matt with a cheeky grin on his face, resulting in his brother pushing him away. matt steps in front of chris before opening the door for his friends, flashing a smile at madison, nate, and nick. he only sticks his tongue out at chris, and his younger brother does the same.

matt couldn't help but laugh before following close behind the group, looking back to make sure nobody else was coming through the door.

"haven't been here in years." nick says, taking in the atmosphere of the older building as he looks around the place. he can't believe it's been so long.

madison listens with intent as matt chimes in, adding on to his brothers new topic, "yeah, i can't believe it's still up."

"we always went here after our lacrosse and hockey games for a celebration, even if we didn't win. it became a tradition until we moved to la, so it's special being here again." the middle triplet explains with a smile on his face, reminiscing the vibe of the place.

nate hums at his friends memories, looking around the small diner that was mostly empty. there wasn't many people who came here as often, but it was very popular back when the triplets were in high-school.

chris grabs both of his brothers, pulling them closer to him with a huge smile on his face, "yup, gotta love the memories we made in this place." nick grimaces at his brother's cheery tone, but he still pats his back affectionately.

matt just ruffles his hair before distentangling his and his brothers limbs, settling his hands in his jean pockets as he waits for someone to speak again.

"let's go sit?" madison suggests, and the whole group collectively agrees as matt and madison lead the way to a booth in the corner of the building.

all of them immerse in conversation as they look over at the menu, chris looking over at the kids menu occasionally and getting interested in the short list of options. chicken nuggets did sound good, but he wasn't seriously gonna get them.

"kid seriously got dino nuggets," matt laughs, and chris only flips him off, "shit is crazy."

madison looks over at chris, grabbing his forearm to slowly bring it back down on the table. as chris turns his head to look at her, she sighs, eyes wide in warning. "if you bark at me again..."

nick laughs, looking over at nate and matt to catch their reactions. nate snorts and matt laughs harder at his best friends reaction. he can't help but grab nates shoulder and rest along his back comfortably, tears almost pricking in his eyes.

madison forks a piece of steak into her mouth, looking over at chris to see that he's already munching on his meal.

"slow down, chris. you're gonna get the hiccups." matt says, tone warning as he looks at his brother with a slightly concerned expression.

the brunette picks up his sandwich before biting into it, his eyes trained on his younger brother as he bites down on a fry.

the others begin to eat, chatting in between bites as they get sucked into the topic of work. chris hates the topic, but he has no choice but to listen in. some of the stuff he finds interesting, like designs for merch and new ideas for vlogs over the summer.

he can't help but let his attention wander off from the conversation in front of him, eyes roaming the old diner and looking around for any other things that catch his eye. he doesn't want to think about work the entire rest of the night, that's actually what he wants to get his mind off of.

his foot taps against the side of the booths seat, his leg hanging off but not quite touching the floor just yet. did they raise the seating in this place? maybe, but all he could focus on at the moment was a girl sitting across from his friend group.

chris could only see the side of her face, but he knew who it was. he knew very well who hid in a booth at the back of the diner. it was y/n l/n, one of singers he's been obsessing over lately. what was she doing in boston? no, what was she doing in such a low-quality diner like this? he seriously didn't understand why huge a-list celebrities went to run-down places.

maybe for the aesthetic, the scenery. he does the same thing, but he never thinks bad of the places he goes to. nothing is really considered bad unless it's falling apart or smells horrible. like chobani yogurt. he couldn't stand the smell of that... substance. he wouldn't even clarify it as food!

"what the actual fuck." chris says out in the open, louder than he intended to but not loud enough that she could hear.

nick tenses up at his brothers tone, grabbing onto matts shoulder tight as he looks over at the younger boy, "what. chris, what?!"

matt winces at the small pain, but he also becomes alert, looking around the place for any signs of danger. he sees none, and his eyes return to chris again. everybody's eyes are on him now, but the longer-haired boys eyes aren't on them.

"chris!" nate exclaims, shaking his friends shoulder and finally making him come back to reality.

the brunette has to hold himself back from pointing, gripping the seat under him as he speaks quietly, like if he spoke any louder the building would collapse, "y/n l/n. y/n l/n is in that booth right-fucking-there, look, look!!"

the entire groups heads turn in sync, looking the direction that chris' eyes were pointed at. madison, nick, and matt's jaws dropped, and nate only looked around in confusion. madison began to shake matt by his shoulders, and he let her.

he was sure the entire group, minus nate, was in shock. they all had the same questions as chris, why was she here? who was that girl she was with? would she take a picture with them if they asked?

chris didn't give them any more time to think, practically jumping out of his seat and holding himself back from running straight towards her. he was about to meet his favorite female singer ever, and possibly even take a picture with her? how could this day get any better, seriously.

"hi, excuse me. sorry to bother you, but could i get a picture?" chris smiled, eyes glistening in the dim lighting of the diner, and maybe even in admiration of the beautiful girl in front of him.

she looked up from her friend, who chris knew as olivia rodrigo, and looked at him with a sweet smile. he swore her teeth glowed, "of course,"

she stood up from the booth, the drop being insanely tall for her shorter figure. chris had a couple inches on y/n which resulted in him looking down at the h/c girl. she cocked an eyebrow as she took a better look at him, eyes basically glowing at the realization.

"hey, aren't you that famous youtuber that films with his brother? correct me if i'm wrong, but you're chris, right?" she asks with slight confusion in her voice, and chris just stares in awe at the knowledge that y/n knows who he is.

y/n stares at him awkwardly, hearing olivia giggle behind her quietly. that's what snaps chris back to reality, and he nods his head, "yeah, yes, that's me! how'd you know? do you.. do you watch us?

he watches you. interviews, live performances, listening parties. that's what he meant, he wasn't some creep that followed around people he liked. probably.

she nodded her head as she looked up at the taller boy, still shocked that one of her favorite celebrities came up to her. y/n didn't even see him walk in, and now here he was, asking for a picture. "yeah! and i would assume you listen to me, hm?"

chris nodded happily, a grin on his face as he stared into her eyes with adoration. y/n was so much prettier in real life. now, he could really see all of her facial features, he could see the features that made her special, "yes! i love your music so fucking much. it always brings me up whenever i'm down, you're really a huge part in my life."

y/n made a gesture with her hands, putting them over her heart as she looked at chris with her doe eyes, "that means so much to me, chris. you're so sweet, thank you."

she couldn't help but wrap her arms around the boy, and chris only welcomed her warmly, taking in the scent of her perfume as his head rested on the h/c-girls shoulder. she smelled as good as she looked. damn, the things he'd do just to have her perfume on his nightstand.

fuck, the things he'd do just for her love, even. he would steal for her, and he had just met the girl. no, it felt like they've been friends for an eternity, and now they were just meeting again for the first time in a while. that's the real story. it's not fake.

"i saw you on the screens

i know we're meant to be."

matt opened the door again, beckoning all of his friends and his brother out the door of the old diner. he watched as chris stood still, leaning against the wall as he stated over at y/n. she was making small talk with her waitress as she signed on the bill.

chris couldn't get enough of the girl after that interaction they had. he couldn't get her out of his mind, she was just there, clouding all of his senses with nothing but y/n.

"hey, buddy!" matt snapped, and chris turned to look over at his brother who just stared at him with suspicion in his gaze, "are you coming or not? we don't have all night, y'know."

the younger boy shrugged, turning back to look at that beautiful girl, "i'll take an uber home. you guys can take madison to her hotel and nate to his house, i just have a few things to do."

matt sighed quietly, worry and suspicion flashing across his features as he looked at his brother. he just shrugged it off before walking out the door, and chris smiled when he heard the door shut.

he had things to do tonight, important things. his brothers wouldn't care if he was out late tonight, right? i mean, after all, he had to do this. it was important.

comment to be on this taglist! @livialifesblog @zayyluvz @snowysosturn @mirioosos @1800-love-me

[ellecdc]

A Man With a Plan.2

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: angst, smoking, mention of vomiting, Remus spiralling, Peter being v worried, James being a doting mother hen, Sirius being a cheeky bastard.

Remus didn’t stay in potions that day.

He gave Professor Slughorn a hasty excuse and beelined it from the room, earning him bemused stares from Peter, James, and Sirius. He couldn’t stay there – he couldn’t breathe the air you’d been breathing – it hurt, it burned, it was too much. 

“What the hell is wrong with me?” He huffed to himself as he shakily made his way to Gryffindor tower. He held his hand to his chest the whole way, heaving as if he was close to throwing up – he wasn’t fully convinced he that wouldn’t. 

As soon as he walked into (stumbled into) his dorm he flung the window open and shoved his head (most of his torso) out of the window – hungry for fresh air. The change in temperature and slight breeze did calm him slightly, but now he could hear Moony with renewed fervor. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. He seemed to be whimpering morosely. 

“She’s not yours.” Remus grumbled. That seemed to aggravate Moony somewhat, as well as piss himself off for talking aloud to...well...himself, sort of? 

He hated this. 

Remus sat half out the window drinking water and chain-smoking until his roommates returned from their final class. 

“What the fuck happened to you, Moons?” Sirius asked as he threw his book bag onto his bed before beginning to strip out of his uniform.

“Fucked if I know.” He grumbled, throwing the butt of his cigarette out the window. 

“You feelin’ alright?” James asked, brows furrowed as if Remus was a particularly difficult arithmancy problem.

“I think it’s quite clear that I’m not.” He spat as he pulled out another cigarette and lit it with the snap of his fingers.

“Blimey, Moony. Wasn’t the full moon last week?” Sirius asked incredulously.

It was too much, all of it: the nickname, the moon talk, their voices. The hearth in the room surged and then extinguished again; Remus was officially diminished to accidental magic like he was some kind of unruly toddler. 

“Shit, Remus. Relax, okay? We’re sorry.” James placated, watching his mate cautiously as Remus took some steadying breaths.

“What’s gotten into you mate?” Sirius asked quietly after Remus appeared to calm himself.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t feel like...myself.” He settled for, trying to drown out Moony’s pathetically forlorn howling in the back of his mind. 

“Alright.” James said. “That’s alright.” 

Remus wanted to vomit. Is that not what you had just said to him a few hours ago?

 “Do you need to go to see Pomfrey?” Peter asked.

“No.” Maybe.

“Alright, well we’ll bring you something up for dinner.” He offered with a smile. Remus felt like he should return the smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to try. 

Remus did eventually go to see Madame Pomfrey, though he kept the full extent of his current predicament to himself. He trudged through the halls, hating the fact that Moony seemed to pick up on your scent, signifying you had been down this hall yourself at some point during the day. 

Must go. Must go. Must go. Moony begged.

Go to Madame Pomfrey and then to bed. Remus mentally berated the wolf - the wolf growled in discontent. Remus was becoming increasingly worried about what he’d be like near the full when Moony was closer to the forefront of Remus’ control. 

Remus claimed nerves and a migraine as the cause of his request for sleeping draught for the night. The matron narrowed her eyes at Remus, clearly aware the boy wasn’t being entirely honest, but acquiesced to his request nonetheless. 

Remus supposed he probably should have requested a dreamless sleep potion instead.

His dreams were littered with images of you. Some were lovely – you and him walking hand-in-hand through bookstores and flower shops, sharing milkshakes and ice cream, snuggling up near the fire, as well as some...steamier dreams. But they were always chased away by horrible ones – you being chased by The Wolf, you finding out about him and running away terrified, you being bitten, you being killed. And those were always followed by his friends becoming disgusted with him, abandoning him, him ending up in Azkaban.

They made him sick.

Literally made him sick; he woke up with a start and bodied James on his way to the bathroom to eject last night’s supper out of his system. 

“Moons, what’s going on mate?” James asked quietly, clearly having been getting ready for a run before he was bulldozed by his mate, as Remus moved to the sink and readied his toothbrush.

“Please don’t call me that.” Remus moaned.

James seemed to consider him for a few moments before he spoke again.

“Is Moo- is the wolf giving you problems?” He corrected at the glare he was shot by Remus.

Remus sighed and nodded his head.

“Can’t be moon sickness? You’ve got three weeks.”

Remus finished brushing his teeth and rinsed his mouth out before turning to look at James.

“I don’t know. I think...” but he didn’t know how to finish his sentence. How did he explain that Moony has apparently become obsessed with and hyper-fixated on one of James’ best friends and was actively campaigning to have Remus thrown into the psych ward at St. Mungo’s? “When you guys were researching on how to become animagi, you were first doing research on werewolves, right?” 

James responded by nodding his head in the positive.

“What’d you find? On werewolves, I mean.” Remus asked.

James grimaced. “Next to nothing, really; we found books and books full of anti-werewolf propaganda before we found anything even remotely helpful.”

“What book was it? The helpful one.”

“There was one line in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them that said werewolves solely target human prey and are less interested in other animals as opposed to ‘true’ wolves.” James said.

Remus sighed and nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

“What’s going on?” James tried again. 

Remus just shook his head at this friend. “I don’t know yet, I’ll see what I find.”

“You don’t have to do this alone; you know? You’ve got us here.” James said as he followed Remus out of the bathroom.

“I know Prongs. I’ll let you know if I need anything.” Remus said with a tired smile. He was lucky, really, he knew that. He had wonderful friends – he’d do anything to keep them.

Which just meant keeping Moony away from you. 

Unfortunately for Remus, James had been right; the only useful information he could find in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them that a) he didn’t already know or b) wasn't prejudiced or incorrect was the line James had referenced. 

“The main difference is in the way they behave; a werewolf is very aggressive in comparison to a true-wolf; they prefer and target human prey, seemingly uninterested in other animals. Though some rumours claim that werewolves will create bonds with animals and other wolves: ‘were’ or ‘true’.”

Remus was ready to give up when he noticed a footnote at the bottom of the page: 

(22) From an unknown author’s first-hand account of lycanthropy in Hairy Snout, Human Heart: 1737. 

He looked through the works cited section of the text and found the book, which appeared to be an autobiography of an unnamed wizard afflicted with lycanthropy from the 18th century. Remus knew the chances of him finding that book in the Hogwarts library were slim to none. Now I’ll have to wait until the next Hogsmeade weekend to try Tomes & Scrolls. 

Remus (unwillingly) learned a lot about you as he (impatiently) awaited for the next Hogsmeade weekend. 

You had a single dimple on your left cheek that only ever appeared when you smiled brightly. Granted, since you were generally soft around all of your edges, it didn’t appear too often. But it was almost guaranteed to make at least one appearance during every one of your interactions with James.

He hated the both of you. 

You hummed. A lot. Sometimes to the tunes of songs Remus could recognize, sometimes to tunes he was sure you’ve made up. It was always quiet humming, and only ever when you were focused intently on a task. It sounded lovely and was almost always accompanied by your tongue poking out slightly between your lips. 

He hated it. 

You always had some piece of nature on your person. Either grass from having been sat on the grounds, dirt on your hands from your time in the greenhouses, a flower tucked into a pocket or – God forbid – your hair. It was sort of adorable.

He hated that even more.

You made a soft tingling or jingling sound as you walked and moved on account of the many beaded bracelets decorating your wrists. It wasn’t just the sound of the jewelry – because Sirius was similar with his many pieces of silver jewelry decorating his person – but the sound was distinctly yours. And Remus Moony seemed to be able to pick it up from yards away. 

It was awful.

You also smelled heavenly. You were lavender blowing in the sea breeze, eucalyptus in a steamy shower, and the fresh grass you seemed to drag in every time you stepped outside. There was also something about you that smelled so distinctly you that drove him mad. He could pick up your scent anywhere.

And that was the worst part.

You were everywhere.

He’d been actively avoiding you since that fateful day in potions, and he still couldn’t escape you. Even if he couldn’t see you, he could hear you and your damned jingles or gentle giggles at something James said to you. And even if you weren’t there, he could still smell that you had been, and then he’d be stuck with Moony’s incessant whining for the rest of the day that they’d ‘just missed you’.

Remus hated it. He hated you for existing. He hated James for befriending you. But he mostly hated himself.

He hated that he got so angry about this; he hated that part of him blamed you for the horrible crime of having been born and that another part of him blamed James for the equally horrible crime of being kind.

He was the problem - Remus and his damned affliction. He just didn’t understand what Moony’s issue was; Remus (and Moony) had met many people throughout his life – Moony even had his own pack, for god’s sake! – what was so special about you to bring about this nonsense?

You seemed either completely unaware or completely unafflicted by Remus’ sudden coldness to you. There were times he’d stopped speaking midsentence when you’d show up or he would out-and-out walk away. James had clearly been annoyed with him about it, but you were still never anything but kind towards him. He was simultaneously grateful to you for it and peeved you were giving him more reasons to like you. 

James - still being slightly miffed with his mate for his abruptness towards you – was more than happy to leave him to search Tomes & Scrolls whilst he and Sirius and Peter went to The Three Broomsticks without him. Sirius shot him a confused look while Peter smiled at him sympathetically as they hobbled off after James.

They didn’t have the book he was looking for, but they were able to order it via owl and advised him they’d have it delivered straight to Hogwarts for him. 

Reluctantly resigning to his fate that he’d have to wait even longer to find answers, he exited the shop when he slammed into something with a solid oof.

He, being the lanky, larger-than-he-looks werewolf that he was, was able to shake off the collision with little-to-no effort.

You, on the other hand.

You.

Moony started howling in horror when Remus saw you leaning up onto your elbows from the cold cobblestoned road that Remus himself just knocked you into. 

“Oh, shit Y/N, are you alright?” He breathed as he hastily reached out his hand to help you up.

Big mistake.

Moony stopped howling and started nearly singing with joy when your skin met his. Prepared for the burning/cold/pain/joy/fear he experienced last time you made contact with him; he was surprised when he only felt peace wash through his person.

Time seemed to slow as you used his support to stand back up again and offer him a breezy smile. 

“I’m terribly sorry about that, Remus. Are you alright?” You asked as if you had just bodied him into the ground.

“I – uh, yes. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” He asked as he shook his head in confusion.

“Oh, I’m alright. I’m no stranger to spending time on the ground – I’m really quite clumsy you know.” You explained solemnly. He breathed a small laugh at your self-degradation. 

“Well, it likely doesn’t help to have a big oaf act as a brick wall when you’re only trying to shop.”

You smiled so sweetly that Remus, the damn sod, couldn’t help but return it. Lo-and-behold, your dimple made an appearance. Moony (and Remus, reluctantly) relished in the fact that he was the one to elicit that wide a smile from you. 

“That’s alright Remus. If you hadn’t, I might not have had a chance to apologize to you.”

Remus’ heart went to exit through his feet.

“Apologize? To me?” he asked. 

You nodded. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

It was weird that Remus could feel his heart crack painfully since it had already exited his body – but it stung anyway.

“You – you’re not... you haven’t done anything, Dove.” He said as he wiped a hand down his face, the pet-name slipping from his lips without his consent. “It’s me. I promise. I’m a freak.”

You offered him a simple smile, though your eyes seemed to ooze sympathy. “I’ve been told I’m quite odd myself.”

Remus chuckled. “Who told you that? Tell them I want to talk.”

You seemed slightly confused but laughed at his response nonetheless. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to figure out how to end this interaction while also mourning the coming loss of it. “Sorry for knocking you over, Y/N.” He offered quietly as he moved to walk away.

“Thank you for helping me up, Remus.” You responded with a smile as you entered Tomes & Scrolls. 

Moony whined at his loss of your company.

Remus whined at Moony’s input.  

True to the clerk’s word, a package arrived for Remus that week over breakfast in the Great Hall.

“What? Don’t you have enough books already, Moons?” Sirius asked with a smirk as he shovelled another spoon of cereal into his mouth. Remus responded with a (loving) two-fingered salute.

Remus had somewhat relaxed since your last encounter – there was no sense in punishing himself or you for Moony’s erratic behaviour, and he was sure he’d been driving his friends barmy with his mood swings. There was nothing for him to do except wait for more answers. And said answers were just delivered to him via owl.

“What are you reading now?” Peter asked as he tried to peer at Remus’ new book.

“It’s not a novel, Wormy. This is research.” He corrected.

“Gonna find out why you’re such a wanker?” Sirius snarked as he dodged a piece of bacon Remus threw at him.

“Okay, well, don’t waste food.” Peter chided quietly, looking disturbingly close to picking up said bacon from the ground. 

“Hanging out with the lot of you seems to have finally done me in, Pads.” Remus snarked back as he vanished the piece of bacon vexing Peter. 

James nodded solemnly. “Fair enough, honestly.” 

Remus quickly tucked his new book into his bag before moving to stand.

“Where are you going?” Peter asked as he looked at Remus with ill-hidden concern.

“To the library. Gonna do some research.” He answered plainly as he patted his book bag.

“Rem,” James called out to him, causing him to pause his retreat and turn to him. “you don’t have to do this alone, right?” he continued more quietly. 

Remus offered him a grateful smile. “I know Prongs, I’ll get back to you with my findings.”

Remus did noy know how he was going to report his findings back to his friends. This can’t have been it, can it? This isn’t what’s plaguing Remus? This can’t be real... There must be more...missing pages...

“...another version of lunar magic I’ve discovered in my travels - though extremely uncommon - is what some have called a ‘mating spark’. Along with the powerful lunar magic that drives the full-moon transformations and the surge of power it provides magical beings (wizards, witches, wix), there appears to be ‘soulmate’ magic involved with lycanthropy. Long been reduced to myth and lore within wizarding society, it appears the magic of soulmates may in fact be leftover knowledge from werewolf folktales.  “The initial ‘spark’ is reported to be painful and distressing. After the initial connection is made, the wolf will become fixated on their mate. The lycanthrope may experience longing, feelings of discomfort when apart and heightened senses surrounding their mate. It has been told to me that feelings of devotion towards the wolf’s mate does not go away, regardless of whether the lycanthrope accepts the bond or not.”

“Fuck.” Remus breathed as he dropped the book onto the table with a thud.

Mine. Moony huffed in response, as if wagging his tail singing ‘I told you so’.

This just won’t do. 

Continue to chapter three here.

Taglist: @hanniejji @y0urm0m12 @c0nsc10usworld @aphrcdites @starsval @thepunisherfrankcastle @anuncalledbridge @the-maniac-fly @unstablereader @rai-strangebr @sherry-needs-therapy, @klazina-couch-potato @cancelledkaley @fandom-crashlanding @ttulipwritezz @boo8008 

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || the proxies || prologue

tw: mentions of murder

“Son of a bitch!”

Masky’s voice was hoarse under his mask, the muddy slope under him making him slide forward. A rough hand grasped his forearm, keeping him from falling. He glanced over his shoulder, Hoodies gloved hand wrapped around his mustard jacket. He glared at Toby as he slid down the muddy slope with glee, splashing mud onto his already tattered jeans. Masky’s eyes narrowed as he heard the familiar quiet giggles coming from under Toby’s mask.

“W-where are we?” Toby questioned. The three looked around, Masky’s memory the most hazy out of the three. Him being elected the leader made the least sense sometimes, considering how scrambled his brain was. “The butt fuck of no where is my guess,” Masky huffed. Hoodie looked in front of them a two way road the only sign of civilization. He turned to Masky, who was about five seconds away from a rage fit. “We need to find our way back to the mansion,” Masky sighed. He began walking along the side of the road, assuming Hoodie and Toby would follow.

“You’re not seriously proposing we walk back to civilization are you?” Hoodie asked plainly. Masky gritted his teeth, annoyance washing over him. “You got a better idea?” He snapped. Toby skipped in front of Masky, turning around to face him as he walked backwards. “We c-c-can hit-tchhike!” He said cheerfully. Masky and Hoodie exchanged looks, watching as Toby raised his arm by the road. He raised a thumb, his signature bloody axe thrown over his opposite shoulder.

“Anyone who willful picks us up has got to be a lunatic,” Hoodie muttered. A set of headlights appeared over the clearing, the older men’s eyes narrowing at the sight of your car. “Looks like we got ourselves a lunatic,” Masky grumbled.

“L-l-let me do all of-f-f the talking gentleman,” The younger proxy said. Toby skipped to the front of the car, Masky and Hoodie watching dumbfounded as you rolled down your window. “Do you think it’s because she thinks the kids cute?” Masky asked his partner. Maybe he hadn’t been around women so long that they overlooked blood soaked axes if someone was attractive enough. Hoodie elbowed him. “It’s Halloween, that’s why she’s not bothered,” Hoodie replied quietly. How could Masky have forgotten? Thats the entire reason they were able to complete their mission to begin with.

“You know the rules we can’t have witnesses, no matter how cute,” Hoodie whispered. Masky eyed you carefully, noticing your doe eyes and plump lips. You seemed to be wearing some sort of fairy costume, one that made your breast sit upright. Masky sighed. “Of course. We get in the car and let her drive for a bit. Gives us a break. Once we come to a stopping point we’ll make it short and sweet,” Masky told Hoodie. He gestured his head to the revolver in his jacket pocket, the outline shoving just ever so slightly. Toby came back around the car, waving for them to join him. “Dibsss o-on shotgun!” Toby cheered.

As Masky approached the car he gently shoved Toby towards the backseat. “Yeah right kid, take a seat,” He huffed. Masky slid into the passengers seat of the car, your lips curling into a bright smile. “Hi i’m y/n,” You greeted. Masky gave you a brief nod, the three of them settling into the car. You noted their silence, deciding to change the conversation. “So, where you guys needing to go?” You asked. You started the car again, driving down the windy road. It became apparent that you were intoxicated, your perfume not able to conceal the smell of alcohol. Masky would’ve questioned your ability to drive, if he cared to survive a possible crash.

Death would be a pleasant surprise, if Slender didn’t have EJ bring him back in time. The healing process would be a bitch. “Just back to town. We got lost partying in the woods,”Hoodie answered quickly. Every so often it impressed Masky how quickly his partner could lie on the spot. You nodded. “Well i’m glad I found you guys, Halloween can get pretty crazy,” You slurred. Masky watched cautiously as your eyes flickered into the rearview mirror, looking at Hoodie and Toby. If it were up to him he would have you drive the entire way, so he could relax his never ending storm of a mind.

“What are you three dressed up as? I’m Tinkerbell as you might’ve guessed,” You giggled. Unfortunately your talking and questions were starting to get on Masky’s last nerve. “Y-you ev-ver see the purge? We’re dressed like them!” Toby replied, his neck twitching ever so slightly. Masky refrained from audibly sighing. Toby’s neck only ever twitched like that when he genuinely enjoyed talking to someone. He needed the kid to not get attached to you. Would only make the disposal process harder. And trust him, no one chops up a body like Toby does.

“Thats cool, definitely unique masks you guys have. Can I touch?” You asked innocently. You reached over to Masky, your fingertips threatening to graze his mask. The brunette could feel himself growing angry, his mask the one possession he could not allow to be touched. Hoodies loud coughing stopped your motion, your hand frozen as you glanced back in the rearview mirror. “Are you okay?” You asked cautiously. Masky sighed in relief as you retracted your hand. Hoodie continued fake coughing, giving you a thumbs up with one of his gloved hands.

The games and chit chat were growing old. Maybe if they were normal men, who actually were coming from a Halloween party, you’d be enjoyable. Maybe one of them would be lucky enough to take you home and fuck your brains out in that slutty Tinkerbell costume of yours. But they weren’t normal men and none of them were lucky. “He’s fine, just has bad a-a-asthma,” Toby explained, patting Hoodies shoulder. Masky could see Hoodie subtly cringe at the sensation of physical touch. He despised anyone touching him. “I have asthma too! Hang on I think I have an inhaler in the glovebox,” You replied.

You made a slow left on the windy road, the city lights slowly coming into view from a far. “Hey do you mind grabbing the inhaler from the glovebox?” You asked Masky. He did as instructed, clearing his throat as he handed the inhaler back to Hoodie. It was a subtle signal that they needed to get on with disposing of you. They were close enough to the city now. “Welllll you guys don’t seem like big talkers so i’ll play some music. Is that okay?” You asked. Toby nodded profusely. Music always made the kid overly excited. Masky began to reach in his coat pocket, his revolver always loaded and ready to go. He could feel his metal wrapped around the metal, itching with anticipation.

Your fingertips pressed the center console, turning on a tune Masky hadn’t heard in a long time. The Smiths filled his ears, the lead singers voice soothing. He glanced in the rearview mirror, Hoodie’s head beginning to twitch to the left. Shit, Brian’s gonna be fronting. Masky’s gaze landed on Toby, whose leg was jumping up and down front excitement. This band reminded Hoodie too much of his previous life, triggers like those allowing Brian to front earlier than expected. Masky sighed as the chorus came on, his jaw beginning to clench as an all too familiar pounding began in the front of his temple.

Brian could see Masky’s switch, his hand rubbing his temple as it always did when Tim was about to front. Tim blinked a few times, his breathing feeling suffocated under his mask. His hand slid out of his jacket, leaving his revolver inside. He quickly shoved his mask off, fear washing over him with the realization as to what he just did. Not only could they not have witnesses, but they most certainly could not let anyone who saw their faces walk away alive. Tim shot Brian a worried look, Brian quick to shove off his ski mask. As The Smiths played in the background Tim cleared his throat.

“I’m Tim by the way, and he’s Brian,” He said. He pointed at Toby with him thumb over the seat. “And I’m sure Toby has introduced himself,”

How could they get out of this without killing you?

How could they get out of this without killing you?

How could they get out of this without killing you?

You smiled drunkenly, Tim noticing your slight curve when driving. “Do you guys want to stop by waffle house?” You asked. Toby went to immediately agree, Brian’s hand flying over his mouth. “Maybe some other time, we have uh, work tomorrow,” Brian answered. Toby shoved his arm away, Brian struggling to keep his hand over the younger man’s mouth. “Bummer. I should probably go home too. Works such a bitch,” You sighed. Tim was trying to listen to you, he really was. But all he could think about was how he was going to have to order your execution. To arrange your meeting with death himself.

His brown eyes flickered to Brian’s in the rearview mirror, who were silently awaiting his instruction. Tim knew his partners expectation, but as he looked over at you, he just couldn’t do it. As you drove into the city you hummed along to the song, your fingers tapping along the steering wheel to the beat. Tim couldn’t put his finger on why exactly he was determined to let you go. Maybe it was his morality that surfaced when he immediately switched. Maybe it was how tired he truly was. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept. Whatever it was, something about you called to him. That calling involving you being alive.

The city lights were mixtures of purples and yellows, illuminating the inside of the car. “Can you pull over at the gas station up here? We live nearby,” Brian interjected, ruining the silence. You nodded, turning on your blinker and driving over to the right lane. Tim didn’t want to leave just yet, resentment of Brian’s words washing over him as you parked the car. “Well here we are,” You say. It wasn’t hard to see you were still drunk, your eyes glazed over. Tim couldn’t help but conclude your intoxication was the only reason you were so calm.

“Thanks for the ride, appreciate it,” Brian said, sliding out of the backseat. Tim listened to the car door slam, slowly taking off his seatbelt. Toby followed his lead. “B-b-bye beautiful!” He said, retreating from the car. Tim gave you a brief glance. He was doing the right thing by sparing your life, right? He slid out of the car, grabbing his mask and shoving it into his coat. You rolled down your passenger window, giving them a wave. “I’ll see you guys around, right?” You asked. Something about the ominous three men was intriguing, a mystery seemingly dying to be solved.

“Most definitely,” Tim replied. He leaned down, propping his arms on the passenger door as he peered down inside of your car. “Seriously, thanks for the ride. If we run into each other again we’ll make up for it,” Tim offered. You smiled, the faintest flush of pink highlighting your cheeks. “I’d like that a lot,” You replied. Tim leaned away, giving you a wave.

“Goodbye Y/n.”

“Goodbye Tim.”

With that you drove away, leaving Tim standing beside Brian and Toby. “You let her go?” Brian questioned. Tim dug into his pants, digging out a box of cigarettes. “Just like that?” Brian continued to questioned. Tim shrugged, bringing a cigarette to his lips. “No sense in killing her. She did us a favor,” He replied blandly. He began digging around for a lighter, Toby furiously jumping in between them. “What?!?! Y-you guys-s-s wanted to kill her?” Toby gasped. Brian rolled his eyes. “Dont be so naive, she’s a witness and we leave no witnesses behind,” He informed him. Brian shot Tim a dirty look and added, “Especially after they’ve seen our faces.”

Tim was aware he was breaking about twenty different protocols by letting you go. He was also more than aware Toby could’ve taken care of you entirely, he wouldn’t have needed to be involved. But he wanted you to live. It was an odd sensation he had never truly felt before, raw craving for someone that came across their path to walk away scratch free. “How long are we stationed here?” Brian asked. Tim finally found his lighter, igniting the end of his cigarette. Once he inhaled he replied, “About another three months.”

Brian crossed his arms, both him and Toby trailing behind Tim as he began to stroll down the sidewalk. He exhaled through his nose, ignoring Brian’s dirty looks. “How exactly do you propose we avoid her for three months?” He asked. Tim rolled his eyes. “For starters there’s the entire possibility she’ll be too drunk to remember us anyways,” He began. He watched as Toby galloped ahead, his axe slung over his shoulder like always. Tim brought out his pack of cigarettes again, gesturing for Brian to take one.

“Besides her meeting us was a mistake. A girl like that doesn’t belong in our world. She’ll never see us again. We’ll be a drunken memory,” Tim insisted. Brian took a cigarette, a gesture that meant he was going to try to trust Tim on this. Tim flickered the lighter, igniting the end of Brian’s cigarette. Once Brian inhaled, the two continued walking.

“You just let her go because she’s cute huh?”

“Dude shut up.”

—> chapter one

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

after listening to an among us song i was given the drive to reboot this au so ,

originated from a doodle that spiraled , SPREAD THE INFLUENCE is an au where ragatha is the ( unwilling ) host of a parasite called ' the influence ' which is a virus that only wants to spread and survive . she wasn't compliant about it at the beginning which was ' fixed ' with an itty bitty bit of psychological torment !

also yes i know the abbreviation is unfortunate and i do not care it's funny

even though ragatha's still our usual sweet little optimist , there is this persistent feeling of wrongness . too positive . too affectionate . it's like all of her humanity has been scooped out and you're left with the mask she made for others in the circus .

which is how the virus spread in the circus - they preyed on vulnerabilities which was what their host is perfect for . striking when the victim puts their guards down , making them submit under the guise that their problems will be fixed ... unfortunately it's a monkey's paw situation .

of course , that's only for this particular instance of the influencer ! something to note is that the virus takes a lot from the host's personality , so t.i's mellow and passive , only resorting to violence whenever necessary . t.i's not really an opposite ragatha she's more like a Dark , Fucked Up Version of ragatha the amazing digital circus . she cares a lot for everyone she considers a part of her hive , but it took a lot of manipulation and gaslighting for them to get infected .

caine is left uninfected because " i would do that if my goal is to destroy this place ! " t.i's ultimate fear has always been dying . it'll do everything to not die , to the point it's trying to spread out of the circus ( <- honestly take this info with a grain of salt i wrote this before i fully developed the story ) . unfortunately there's this jester who's resisting the virus with pure lesbian rage and is trying to stop her .

now rags would eventually get de-influenced and the circus will no longer be infected , but we will talk about the extremely rocky journey of recovering from knowing you harmed everyone you cared about Later

was this ' the influence ' that amanda ( ragatha's va ) keeps referencing ? sighs ... yeah . ( feels so surreal that i can say i have their seal of approval for this )

why ragatha ? in story , how is she not the perfect host ? metatextually , this is an au of an au - this came from a blog about ragatha getting a virus that is inconveniencing her life . i simply thought of an idea of ' hey what if the virus took over her body ' one day . then this abomination was born . i would reveal the why and how she got infected ... eventually .........

is she still afraid of centipedes ? is it a ragatha if she doesn't have a fear of centipedes

does pomni still use a taser ? yeah

could i use / be inspired by the influence for my au ? i did not invent the concept of Computer Viruses so feel free to be inspired by it , no credit needed . for t.i as a character specifically , please credit me !

are there ships ? just pomni x ragatha

is suggestive content of t.i ok ? just don't send them to me , tag it as #tw suggestive or #suggestive so i could filter it out

is nsfw content of t.i ok ? my tiny artist hands are powerless against the unstoppable force that is the internet so my answer will not matter . that being said , i recommend that they're not put in the main au tag so people won't unexpectedly come across it . and no i do not want to see it please do not send them to me

could i draw fanart / write fanfic of this au ? 100% yes you could either mention me or tag it under #tadc influence au

does this au have an ask blog ? nah just a normal blog lol

READ THE COMIC ... I GUESS ... !!

the main story

oh boy a prologue

[imshii-kin]

Good Luck

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

I made this a bit ago so have mercy :,)

Wattpad

Summary : Y/n, who recently taken an interest in the DC universe, finds themself in that very universe after a little roadkill accident.

Prologue, Chapter # 1 (you are here), Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Never feel guilty for starting again. - Rupi Kaur

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

It had been a few hours since Y/n had awoken, she felt like she was in shock. She could remember walking back to her dorm from the public library. She had picked a random comic from the comic section, deciding to venture from her usual picks.

She could remember the bright headlights barreling towards her, the pain, her breath slowly slipping from her...

Y/n doesn't know is she can look at a truck the same way again.

"What do you think could've caused this Lois? She was completely fine yesterday." A man with inky black hair and deep blue eyes paced around the kitchen, his brows furrowed in frustration.

The woman next to him, Louis, placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort her husband. "I don't know Clark, it's strange."

Y/n sucks in a breath, she was in the DC universe.

──●◎●──

'...I didn't even get to finish playing through Fnaf.' Y/n thought as she watched her 'parents' talk. Sighing, Y/n recounted her situation, she could remember her past life perfectly, but she drew a blank when she tried to remember anything from this life.

In all honesty Y/n was on the verge of a panic attack, still coming to grips with the fact she died. Not only that, but out of all the universes to be reincarnated in, Y/n was reborn into one of the most dangerous universes out there. Why couldn't she just be reincarnated in a chick flick?

Louis had her arm around Y/n, holding her close and trying to comfort her. She was saying something to Y/n, though nothing really registered.

Justifiably, Y/n didn't feel like talking to anyone.

Clark sat down in front of you, gently taking your hands in his hands. "Y/n, can you tell us what could have happened? Anything at all?" Y/n shakes her head no. She chose not to mention her past life, something in her gut told her to keep it to herself.

Clark sighed disappointedly, "I guess I'll have to call Bruce." He seemed grimace when he mentioned Bruce's name.

That's never a good sign.

──●◎●──

"What do you mean 'No' Bruce!?" Clark yelled at the billionaire, who was trying to calm down and reason with the hero.

"Clark, I just think you're going a little overboard, let me take her back to Gotham. I can use my computers and resources that are stored in the bat cave to figure out what's wrong." Bruce explained. "We don't need to summon the Justice League for this." Bruce's brow furrowed at the stubbornness of the alien.

Off to the side Y/n watched the interaction with morbid curiosity. Though you agreed that calling up the Justice League was a bit... over the top. It was still strange how Bruce seems reluctant to interact with the Justice League in general.

Wonder why that is.

Clark runs a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. "Why would I let my daughter go to Gotham, for all I know, this is some excuse to experiment on her kryptonian side. Find out more weaknesses," he all but snarled, "or get her killed, just like Jason!"

Clark pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't trust her with you, not after..." He shakes his head, turning away from Bruce.

Louis had left your side to talk with Clark, allowing Jon to take her place.

There's some silence, before Jon decides to speak. "...I think you should go." He says. Y/n tilts her head towards him, brow raised. "I gave a friend there, Damien." Jon begins, "he's told me all about Bruce, I think they can help you."

Jon blushes a bit, "Plus, Damien is the most trustworthy guy I know, if you ever need help, he'll be there."

Footsteps approach you both from behind, turning to look, you both see an irritated Clark approaching you. "Well, she doesn't have a choice. She isn't going." He huffed.

"..."

"Clark, do you want her to get the best treatment or not?" Surprisingly, Lois spoke up this time. Sighing, she took Clark's hand.

"Bruce won't betray our trust, plus she'll be in one of the most protected places in Gotham, getting the best treatment she could ever get. I think we should let Bruce take her until we figure out what, or... who caused this."

──●◎●──

Y/n and Bruce sit in silence.

──●◎●──

Chapter 2

[ruruvxz]

Can you write like a really really loser minji with like uhh a teasing playful and mean flirting fem! reader basically like a baddie reader 😭😭😭 idk how to explain it man so the thing is I saw this dynamic thing like minji is the taller one but gets teased Reader is the shorter but teases minji!! Just some fluff no angst please 😔

“Apple Cider”

Nerd!Kim Minji x Mean!Reader

↳ synopsis: After being kicked out of a house party you found yourself wondering the streets with a pounding headache. It wasn’t all that bad when you suddenly came across a taller woman, and not letting this opportunity through your hands, you ask to get her a drink.

↳ cw: mentions on intoxication, drunken kiss, prudish reader, mentions of language, reader is an ex-f1 racer, pure fluff

↳ wc: 3k

a/n: I kinda wrote this as a prologue of “10:36” but don’t worry it’s all pure fluff and this is basically how you met Minji… anywayssss it was really difficult to write this as I kept having to redo it since I didn’t like all my other proofreads (and the fact I’m a tall girl myself…)

Stumbling over a traffic cone, your head thumped and pounded as you were suffering a major migraine, which added to your irritation as you were leaving the worst party of your life. Everything was beginning normally, you came early as usual to lend a helping hand to one of your mutual friends, watching the people pool into the cramped apartment. How everyone's shoulders collided as you all tried to fit into this tiny apartment made you more irritable. 

It wasn't until someone poured a drink onto your already drunk state and began to berate you, that you finally took your leave. You bit your tongue, you didn't want to start anything so you swung your f1 academy jacket over your drenched shirt to cover the bright stain plastered all over and took your leave. Everything was so disorienting, walking through the crowded streets, you found yourself stumbling across the business district. You loathed this part because it reminded you of your impending doom of being a corpse slave, but at this point, you were too drunk to care.

All that lugging around trying to find a place to camp out wasn't making anything any better, your only saving grace was hauling your way to the nearest 7-Eleven. Thank the stars that you managed to wobble your way inside and pick up 2 bottles of apple cider, a drink you commonly drank to force your way back to sobriety. As you checked out your items you made yourself comfortable on a concrete diver and chugged the first drink down.

It was extremely sour, so you pushed yourself only to take small sips, whilst admiring the stars above you. A little ashamed that you got kicked out of a party so early on, usually leaving by 3 am, but it was only 9 pm. That was beside the point, as you felt your head stop thumping less and less, and finally, your headache dissolved completely. Sighing in relief, you looked at the spare bottle wondering how much of a waste of money it was to buy 2. Before you could return the bottle for some reward points or something along those lines, your ears picked up a large "Oomf".

Your eyes darted towards the noise as you saw a beautifully dressed woman, trip over a traffic cone, similarly to you. She was stunning, her long black hair falling softly onto her face, and with her tall stature, everything about her was so breathtaking. You even took notice of the dark eye-bags circulating under her gorgeous black eyes, she looked so fatigued it even made your partially sober state worry for her. You thought nothing more of her before she tripped once more dropping her glasses right in front of you.

Picking them up worriedly, you walked over to her and reached your hand up to pick her up. She looked up at you wide-eyed as you dragged her bag up, she immediately started apologizing as you handed her the glasses. Not realizing how tall her stature was until you stood right in front of her. As you examined her face closer as she pushed the glasses up from the bridge of her nose, she couldn't help but blush. You chuckle at her reaction a bit before speaking up.

"Are you alright? I just saw you trip on air right now..." You joked as the woman looked even more sorrowful, the idea of someone as dazzling as you watching her make a fool out of herself was humiliating. She grabbed her hand and rubbed her nape as you continued to laugh at her little accident, finally letting it all out she spoke up.

"I'm sorry. it's just I was so tired I couldn't see where I was going." She responded continuing to run the back of her neck while looking down at your smiling face. She wasn't lying though, after a long 3-hour seminar about economic ethics, she was beyond exhausted, especially since this was being taken out of her weekend.

"Maybe it's true, tall people don't have balance." You laughed at her, a part of you still a little drunken as you giggled at her antics before speaking up once more. "I've got some spare apple... drink, I uh, drink it if I want to energize myself— here take it, it's not like I was gonna drink it anyways." You insisted as you handed her the drink forcefully, her response being to weakly snatch it from your hands.

The drink was still cold and she had no problem drinking it, especially since a strikingly young woman, probably the same as her, was offering it to her. Usually, if it was anyone else the black-haired woman would've meekly declined their offer and moved on with her day, but you were different somehow.

As she cracked the cap off, she took a huge swig before coughing out from the sour taste, her eyes bugging out differently that tasted from her expectation. She looked at the bottle's wrapping as it neatly read "Natural Apple Cider", it wasn't bad but it was most definitely surprising. However, the way she spat out everything made you laugh hysterically even more.

"Hahaha, I'm so— hah... I'm so sorry, it's Apple cider." You laughed as she stared at the bottle for a little bit longer and then pried her eyes back to you as you chuckled loudly. "You looked so hilarious! I can't—" You continue laughing at her before gaining your composure once more, "I'm Y/N, sorry about that."

"Wow, uhm..." She was bewildered at your carefree attitude after practically just meeting her, but she laughed with you, your laugh was far too intoxicating. "I'm Kim Minji." She responded as she pushed a hair behind her ear before reaching out her hand to shake yours. You quickly do so as you ogle her height.

"I'll just call you... Tall girl!" Minji was dumbfounded by the nickname, which wasn't much of a nickname as it was just a plain-out observation. She looked around then back at you confused why you sounded so sure about that name.

"Now come on tall girl, let me get you an actual drink as an apology." You beamed as you offered her an actual drink, it wasn't even an offer actually, more of a subtle demand under the pretext of this being a sweet gesture. Minji, who was so hooked, just agreed while you dragged her by the hand and led her to one of your all-time favorite jazz bars. She couldn't help but chuckle at the circumstances she was facing at this moment, a shorter woman she had no prior knowledge about was offering to get her a drink.

As the both of you pushed through the crowded streets of drunkards and other ripped folks, you would mumble incoherent words that she would only understand bits and pieces. Minji would question why you kept mentioning some party and you'd scowl at her wondering why she wasn't listening, how could she? You were practically slurring your words every single sentence? But oddly enough, she found it so endearing whenever you would laugh it off. She was also still surprised how you could be so clearheaded and strut around in such a stunning outfit while not being the most sober person. Everything about you from your face to your minute details made her heart beat out of her chest.

You didn't notice how her hand tightened just a little bit, while she thought of the idea of you leaving her. Even for this midnight, she'd like to give this thing a try. As you headed inside the jazz club, you indicated sitting near the bar top. Minji, who wasn't a big drinker, (actually didn't drink at all before this situation) was a bit hesitant at first but she swallowed her fears and sat down right beside you. You ordered 2 amber ale beers and the bartender delivered, the drinks decorated with a frothy top as you took a large swig. Minji was stunned at the fact you could just coldly drink the bitter drink without any hesitation, making her believe it wasn't all that bad.

She lifted the drink to her lips, the froth coating attaching itself to her philtrum, as she took a short sip before abruptly sitting it out with a cough. It took you by surprise as she continued to cough out her drink, you patted her back to relieve her, thinking she might just be choking. As you leaned into her to make sure the taller woman was okay, your nose picked up her delicious scent of fruit punch. "Oh my! Are you okay?—Woah you smell nice, but are you good?" You repeated yourself as Minji came down from her coughing spree. As she lifted her head back up to look at you, her cheeks flushed red, not wanting to admit that this was probably the first drink she'd ever had in her life. She flailed her hand around trying to indicate she was fine as she continued to let out hiccuped coughs. 

It took you a few moments as you dissected her reaction before connecting the dots, ah, this was the first time she'd ever tried beer, a trashy one at that. "Oh. Is this your first time trying amber ale?" You questioned, she looked even more flushed as she hid her face with her palms, pretty much summing up your theory, you didn't expect that, after all, she looked like she was your age. Even entering the bar she showed the bouncer her ID and everything was checked out, so how could this possibly be her first-ever drink? As questions pilled up in your mind you couldn't help but let out a loud laugh, catching the attention of a few fellow jazz enthusiasts who were just trying to enjoy the music. Paying no mind to the glares of middle-aged men who had nothing to do but "appreciate" the gentle hums of the musicians, you spoke up a little too loud making Minji a tad bit more embarrassed.

"Your kidding! There's no way this..." You laughed, raising the drink higher up to give her a look before slamming it down on the counter. "...This shit! Is your first drink, tall girl." She sighed as you continued to tease her on the fact, before letting out a very long exasperated sigh whilst taking another sip of the drink. Minji wasn't in the mood to deal with you— a complete stranger— remarks on her visible lack of alcoholism. Truth be told, she hated people who drank since it would always lead to confrontation or messy tears, and she wanted no part of that. The fact that anyone would order an alcoholic beverage on her behalf would've made her scoff in disapproval before sending the drink back, but for some particular reason, she wanted to impress the alluring girl right next to her.

"D-Don't call me that, besides, it isn't," Minji said, trying her best to convince the girl next to her that she was much more bold than she was, despite coughing up her drink. "I was just, uhm, surprised that's all!" Was all she could muster up as you continued to laugh your ass off, you should've probably asked her if she drank or not before dragging her to your favorite Jazz Club, but you were paying for her drink, so really, was it your fault.

As the night went on, you both mutually started to order more and more drinks, as the clock struck 2am, you finally decided to wrap up this get-together and head home. It was kind of refreshing meeting someone new though, in the span of 5 hours, you learned more about her than you knew about your closest friends. Of course, not by your own will as it was her turn to babble her head off, she talked way too much about trivial topics she was into you found your migraine resurge for a bit. Things like her favorite romance novels or manhwa titles and synopses that you could care less about were all engraved into your memory, after all for some reason you couldn't take your eyes off of her. But eventually, everything has to come to an end...

That is what you would've said if she wasn't practically clung onto your arm with her head resting on your head as she loomed over your quite tiny build. If you knew she was a lightweight you probably wouldn't have encouraged her to have more drinks than she could handle, especially since you had to pay for each and every one she got. More than that, you wouldn't have agreed under the pretense that you had to drag this not-so-complete stranger back to her apartment. She was quite heavy as she was pressing all her body weight onto you as you searched and probed for directions to her apartment, her words slurred and giggly as you finally found her residence.

It was quite elegant as she lived in the well-off areas of the city, it made you jealous at the thought of anyone ever living so extravagantly, but it was better than having to drag her up the stairs if she lived in an apartment complex like yours. You fished the wallet out of Minji's back pocket to grab her complex's card key and unlocked the elevator for the both of you. As you hauled her into her apartment, you took in the view, everything was so dimly lit and the only light was being emitted by the city's scrappers and other colossal-sized buildings.

You chucked her onto her leather couch as she spewed more nonsense about her economic homework before finally taking a breather on the couch. She was adorable but you're too prideful to admit that to her face, you decided to just grab some water and sober her up a bit before heading back to your place with your roommate. Walking over to her, you handed her the glass of water before carefully monitoring her like a child, making sure she didn't choke. As she sat up, she swallowed the water in one goofy gulp.

"Hey now, don't drink it like that you might choke like last time, tall girl." You chuckle as she looks up at your standing posture with a pout, fixing the hem of your shirt you prepare yourself for your leave. Turning back from her gaze she weakly and fairly loosely grabbed onto your wrist with a hushed plea. "Please stay, Y/N..." Her voice filled with longing as she croaked out, making your heart soften at her state. You let out a playful scoff before taking a seat on the couch right next to her, Minji's eyes lighting up as you do so. She looked like a total lovesick geek right now, but you found her so endearing as you both sat in silence, taking short glances at one another.

"Your hair, it's really nice Y/N, can I uhm, please touch it." She spoke as you nodded softly, letting her delicate fingers stroke the back of your head, feeling your hair strand by strand under her palm. As she continued she looked more and more entranced by how truly gorgeous you were, her breath hitched once she stopped, leaning down to rest your head on her thighs. If it weren't for how dark her apartment was, you probably could've seen her cheeks radiating red, as her blush plastered her whole face. The way you looked so, unbothered, made her heart sink even further, she had never felt this way about anyone, mainly since she's usually cooped up in her apartment, avoiding any contact with anyone other than her close friends. 

Resting your head gently on top of her, Minji's eyes wandered around your whole body, taking in the sight that was in front of her. Her eyes landed on your scarlet leather race jacket, it was tailored perfectly for you, she let out a nerdy smile as she looked at all the patches that decorated your jacket. "That jacket... it's really cool, I like it." 

"Than I shall wear it more often." You responded, reaching your hand out and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, your knuckles softly caressing her heated cheeks. Despite how much you hated being reminded of your past as a failed driver who was promptly kicked off the grid, her words soothed you enough to encourage you to wear it more often. Looking back at the party that happened, you were glad it didn't work out since it meant that you met her. 

You both sat in silence after your little comment as she only let out a snort, her face still burning red as you laid on her. "Hey, do you mind if I sleep over?" You asked, and she nodded responding with a quiet, "Sleep as long as you want." 

"Great, I don't have anywhere to stay." You lied through your teeth, not wanting to go back home and stay by her side. 

"Hey Y/N, do you like me?" Minji asked boldly, still clearly stuck in her drunken state.

"Yeah, but not that much, Tall girl." You teased as you brought your hand back up and pulled her down to your level, your noses inches apart, threatening to touch. "How about you?"

"I like you a lot..." She drifted off, her answer in part to the fact she was quite dazed, before continuing she leaned closer to you. "But not that much."

You laughed once more as you cupped her face, gently pushing her face closer, interlocking your lips together as you kissed, her face was hot, steaming almost as you released her hands from her face. "You look so out of it, come on', I'll go buy you some apple cider to sober you up."

"I prefer fruit punch, actually!"  

"Then let's drink both."

[emberuby]

works in progress — oct 14, 2024

the queen's guard — p.sh (series)

pairing: knight! park sunghoon x queen! reader

sypnosis: the story that spans over a decade, of an unwilling queen and a knight with a tragic past. you were forced to marry the king at a young age, yet were only able to find comfort and love in a member of his guard, ser park sunghoon. you loved him enough to bear his three children, which in the eyes of the law, were bastards and a threat to the sanctity of the kingdom. sunghoon makes it his focus to protect his family from a looming threat.

genres and warnings: romantic fantasy, drama, sexual content (more warnings when finalised), violent content, slightly dark themes, heavy angst, cheating, pregnancy, and mentions of war.

a/n: this is a remake of the one-shot fic i made a while back of the same name. it will go into much more detail with more backstory about all the characters and also a more resolved ending.

status: chapter one is completed & rest of the story is mostly mapped out.

safety net — p.js & p.sh (one-shot)

pairing: bad boy! park sunghoon x reader x good boy! park jongseong

sypnosis: you, sunghoon and jay have been best friends since middle school, and now that you're all roommates in uni, you're starting to notice the flaws and cracks in your relationship. sunghoon and jay made a promise to each other that they would never go to bed with you, however, sunghoon would have never guessed in a million years that jay would break that promise.

genres and warnings: childhood friends to lovers, love triangle (in the beginning), sexual content, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, threesome, rough sex, heartbreak, unrequited love (kind of), toxic relationships, heavy angst, poly, minor violent content.

status: ~20% done

a harem story — hyung line (series)

pairing: husbands! hyung line x queen! reader

sypnosis: after your older brother passed away, you were set to be the next queen of aetheris, and a good queen cannot be without a husband and heirs. your council is in a rush to get you married and with a harem in accordance with the customs of the kingdom, however, you've only ever wanted one man, that being jake sim, who was in love with someone else.

genres and warnings: romantic fantasy, childhood best friend! jake, nobleman! sunghoon, knight! jay, warlock! heeseung, reverse harem, the entire harem is an arranged marriage, heavy sexual content, threesome, gang bang, unprotected sex, pregnancy (more smut warnings when finalised), angst, unrequited love, violent content, mentions of murder, some dark themes.

status: prologue done. still mapping out the full series.

[oofthwoods]

── ˙ ̟ 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 !!

🎙️ how heavy is the weight of a legacy, and what would you do to protect it?

to you, legacy means the formula one team bearing your family name. as a child, you eagerly tagged along with your mother to races, sharing laughs with the engineers and mechanics, and being lifted into the air in triumph after every win. yet as time passed, those moments became fewer and farther between, and before you knew it, the once-legendary team was now scraping by at the back of the pack.

in your final visit with your grandfather before he passed away, you made a promise to him: you would drive for the team that he and your grandmother poured their blood, sweat, and tears into, and you would restore glory to the williams surname, whatever it takes.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) :: 2024!f1 grid x williams driver!reader. | specific pairing to be revealed.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :: cursing, sexual themes, mention of death, mental health, sexism. will be updated if necessary.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: if this is the first work you see on my page, hello and welcome! hope you enjoy bring home the glory. if you have already read my other serie, the echo, i feel that is necessary to comment that this serie is written and released in a different style — while my first one is full of separated one shots and a barely there plot line, bhtg is plot heavy, with a determined beginning, middle, and end. hope you still enjoy it <3 | as always, english is not my first language so i apologize for any mistakes in the writing, and if you want to be added to the taglist, just say so!

˒ ⌕ — CHAPTERS

ᯓ★ :: prologue

ᯓ★ :: chapter one "what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. i wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me". | a victorious journey always begins with a death and an offer.

©️ oofthwoods — 2024.