#and that kinda killed my motivation to work on it lol

[nikatyler]

now that i'm actually putting together a lot of character lore, i should probably work on a tumblr character page huh

[hyaciiintho]

🌸｡*ﾟ+. I apologize for the person I have become, now that I’ve finished a playthrough of Lies of P. I will not elaborate further. Thank you all for your patience and understanding ♡

[divinelasso]

Ribo is finally here!!! Cell's battle hungry "daughter" who came to me in a dream. She was kind of a Bonyu situation, i can't remember which game she debuted in in my dream but she was like a training character that you could learn new moves from but you met with her in the Capsule Corp main building instead of her being a hologram recording.

The name she had in my dream had "Kura" in it, which was all I could remember from it when I woke up and wrote it in my notes. Coincidentally, when i looked it up, kura can mean "dream" "illusion" or "fleeting" (as in a dream) which was so wild to me i decided to keep it as a part of her which is where "Kura Project" comes from :)

[kingofbodyrolls]

Whalien52 (m) | pjm

you’ve been working for the New World Order as an assassin for years, guarding secrets without batting an eye or asking questions. But when a striking pink haired man shows up at the headquarters stealing information, he makes you question everything. With all of humanity at stake, what will you do? 

→ Pairing: Jimin (kitty gang!jimin) x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: apocalyptic, survival, dystopian + angst, fluff and smut. → Tropes: strangers to lovers → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 10.6k → Warnings + triggers: changing povs (between reader and Jimin), action, weapons, guns and swords, blood (it’s not in extreme detail or anything, but blood is mentioned a few times), death (people are dying, but no important character dies!!!), wounds, shooting, self defense, m*rder in self defense, sickness (cancer due to radiation), mention of a cure and treatment for said cancer. Explicit smut in the form of unprotected sexy, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, degrading names, multiple orgasms, creampie, kissing. → Author’s note(1): okay, so I’ve been struggling a lot with this one too, lol. I miss writing sappy romance I think. This isn’t sappy, and I’ll hardly call it romance, well, it’s in there, but there’s honestly so much action in this one, compared to the Yoongi one. It’s also more fast paced, and shorter. I hope it’s alright! It was fun to write, even though I know nothing about writing action, I hope I did it well! And to everyone who’s scared or reluctant to read it because there’s angst and it’s kinda heavy/dark themed— IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING. There, I spoiled the ending for you 😇 + This story is a gift for my friend @remmykinsff! Thank you so much for sharing your Kitty gang Jimin folder with me, and letting me use you for motivation and inspiration to get out of my writer’s block 💜 → Read on AO3? [link]

[navi]*: end of the world // end of the world: a flickering hope // shower drabble // whalien52 // end of the world: epilogue *this story is technically a stand alone one-shot (and can be read just as is), but it is also a spin-off from another one-shot (that got a sequel, so a two-shot?). The characters and the story are the same, but the first two stories takes place before this one, and it’s with Yoongi x reader (not the same reader though).

It’s raining again. Lately, it’s always raining. The rain is everlasting, it seems, drenching the city in a ceaseless, oppressive downpour. The Capital is perpetually shrouded in darkness and gloom, a place where the sun is a distant memory. You’ve grown accustomed to it, ever since you were recruited by The New World Order to guard their secrets. You’ve been trapped in this godforsaken city ever since. Do you like it? Not really, but it’s a job that pays well. They give you a roof over your head and enough to survive—luxuries in this ravaged world.

You came from nothing, clawing your way up since the war began, fighting for every scrap of existence until The New World Order caught you. They gave you a choice: die or work for them. You chose to live, naively hoping that working for them wouldn’t be so bad. But it turns out, it can be quite bad. You’ve done unspeakable things to keep their secrets safe. You’ve killed for them, just as you had killed for yourself before they found you. Now, you don’t even flinch when you have to eliminate someone who gets too close to the truth. Part of you wonders what these secrets are, but you’re not interested. It’s just a job, nothing more.

Tonight is another shift. You head to the New World Order building, ready to patrol the city under the cover of darkness. First, you gear up: leather pants, a basic white shirt, and a black leather biker jacket. A belt around your waist for support, with a strap around your thigh that holsters your gun. A small knife is sheathed at your back, just in case.

You glance out the window. The world outside is as bleak as ever; night has fallen, and the rain taps a morose melody against the glass. You sigh, watching the neon signs flicker, casting a purple and blue glow that dances across your room. Grabbing your keys, you lock the door behind you and sprint down the stairs. This apartment is nothing special, but it’s a step up from the streets where you once lived before the war. It’s a small comfort in a world gone mad.

The rain soaks your skin, but you don’t bother with an umbrella. It’s just rain. You run down the dimly lit main street, the few wandering souls avoiding eye contact as they scurry to obey The New World Order’s curfew. Your boots splash through rain puddles on the unpaved, muddy road. It doesn’t take long to reach the towering New World Order building—its looming presence still sends a shiver down your spine, but you step inside anyway. Scanning your security card, you brace yourself for another night of duty.

You start your shift monitoring security cameras and patrolling the eerie hallways for any sign of suspicious activity. As you return to the front desk, you catch sight of a man attempting to bypass the card reader.

“What are you doing here?” you growl, your hand instinctively hovering near your gun.

The man fumbles with the machine, clearly lacking a security card. Desperation edges his voice as he yells, “I want the data that The New World Order is keeping from us!”

“You’re not getting that,” you reply coldly, assessing the intruder. He seems harmless, more frustrated than dangerous, so you relax, slightly.

“Do you even know what it is that you’re protecting?” he spits, abandoning his futile attempt to climb the machines as the alarm blares. The piercing sound echoes through the corridor, and you quickly pull out the phone issued by the New World Order to silence it.

“I don’t care what I’m protecting. You’ve got no business here. Now leave,” you say through gritted teeth.

“You shouldn’t be so blind to the secrets you’re safekeeping for them,” he hisses, making another hopeless attempt to scale the security machines.

His efforts are laughable, a pathetic display of defiance. A dark chuckle escapes your lips. “Leave, or I’ll shoot you.” This is his final warning. If he doesn't heed it, he’ll meet the cold, indifferent justice of your gun. So be it.

He freezes, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he gauges your resolve. Your unwavering stare breaks his spirit, and he quivers in fear before backing off. Without a word, he turns and bolts, likely retracing his steps. Fool, you think, watching him flee. 

The encounter leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s not the first to suggest you should question your work and the secrets you guard. Maybe you should. But you know the moment you do, you’re dead. You’ll lose everything you’ve achieved and everything you hold dear. That fear keeps you in place, and you reckon that’s the point of it all—the New World Order instills fear in everyone, ensuring their control remains absolute.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go in there alone?” Bora asks, her voice tinged with unease. It’s understandable—years of meticulous planning and reconnaissance are culminating in this moment. Whalien52 is about to attempt the impossible: stealing the cure for cancer that The New World Order keeps hidden away.

Jimin isn’t scared. He’s accustomed to these kinds of missions, though this will be his most significant one yet. A good kind of nervousness tingles through him, a mix of excitement and determination. “Yeah, Hobi’s done plenty of research. I know exactly which room to hit,” he says, flashing Bora a reassuring smile.

He gets why she’s scared. Bora and Yoongi have been through hell, and with both of them sick, finding the cure is personal. Yoongi’s condition has worsened over the years, a stark reminder of the injustice that The New World Order perpetuates by hoarding the cure while people die from radiation-induced cancers. The thought makes Jimin’s blood boil.

It’s this anger that led him to join Whalien52 after meeting Jungkook in the wasteland, a desolate remnant of what the bombings and wars left behind. The new government organization threatens to transform the remnants of humanity into a dystopian nightmare—if it hasn’t already.

Jimin thrives as an assassin, driven by a relentless quest for truth. The thrill, the chase, the stealth—it’s all part of the adrenaline rush he lives for. But beneath the excitement lies a deep-seated hatred for the rich elites who hid in their bomb-proof bunkers, safeguarding their technology, only to reemerge and rebuild a civilization for themselves amidst the ruins. Their swift reconstruction of the Capital stands as a bitter reminder of their enduring power.

The injustice has turned him bitter. It’s why he’s vowed to do everything in his power to change the world, to help Whalien52 make knowledge free and accessible to everyone, not just the rich. The gap between rich and poor has become a chasm, with only the vetted elite allowed to live in the Capital. The rest of humanity is left to fend for themselves, struggling for survival in a world that hopes they’ll destroy each other.

Jimin won’t stand for it. This mission isn’t just about stealing a cure, or getting data on possible treatment—it’s about justice, about leveling the playing field, about giving hope to those left in the dark. And he’ll see it through, no matter the cost.

Yoongi comes up to him, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m serious. You don’t have to do this for me,” he coughs, his voice so raspy it sounds like he’s been smoking forever.

Jimin places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, his gaze shifting briefly to Bora before settling back on Yoongi. “We are doing this for you. But I’m also doing this for everyone else,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion and a glimmer of hope. “You’re not the only one suffering from cancer because of the radiation. We want to help everyone; we can’t just let people die.”

Yoongi flashes a soft smile and sits down to rest, the effort of standing too exhausting for him now. Jimin will do this for him, for Bora, and for the rest of humanity. He doesn’t mind risking his own life in the search for a cure—he might need one later himself.

“I’ll go get ready,” he says, turning away from Bora and Yoongi. He walks past Jungkook and Taehyung in the dimly lit hideout and heads into his room. He pulls on his leather pants, a white shirt, and then his favorite leather bomber jacket, adorned with pink, silver and purple sparkles. The jacket complements his pink fluffy hair perfectly. He retrieves his gun, tucking it into his back pocket—risky, he knows. Then he picks up his katana, swinging it over his back into its sheath. The sword, his preferred weapon, feels reassuringly familiar.

Now he’s ready. Ready to infiltrate the fortress of secrets and retrieve the cure. Ready to fight for a future where knowledge and healing aren’t hoarded by the few. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the mission ahead, a mission that could change everything in this dystopian nightmare they call life.

He says goodbye to everyone, hugging each of them tightly, aware that any moment could be his last. This mission is perilous, and while he has infiltrated The New World Order before without getting caught, this time is different. He will be venturing deeper into their stronghold than ever before.

After bidding farewell to his friends, Jimin strides outside to his motorcycle. The powerful machine, stolen from the Capital, gleams with a sleek, futuristic design. Its pale metal body has an industrial look, and its size dwarfs Jimin as he mounts it. Neon lights flicker to life as he revs the engine, the bike purring beneath him. With a flick of his wrist, he speeds towards the Capital, sand flying from the back wheel.

He knows he must be cautious once he enters the city. Stealth is crucial to avoid detection and successfully infiltrate The New World Order’s building. Failure means everything will have been for nothing.

The rain is endless, a perpetual downpour that defines the Capital. He doesn’t know why it always rains here, only that it does. The empty streets are illuminated by the neon signs adorning the various buildings, casting a colorful glow in the darkness.

He parks his motorcycle near the New World Order building, at the secluded back entrance where security is minimal. This is his best chance. 

Taking a deep breath, he opens the door. 

It’s all or nothing.

It’s getting late, and the monotony of patrolling the building is wearing you down. The nights are usually quiet, save for the occasional curious stranger trying to access the information you guard. You sigh and head back to the surveillance room, your eyes scanning the screens for anything unusual. Suddenly, you spot a figure moving on one of the monitors. A shot of adrenaline surges through you, breaking the dullness of the night. 

The absence of triggered alarms tells you the intruder is a professional. No amateur could bypass the sophisticated security systems. The thought excites you, your heart rate spiking as you dash through the corridors, your hand hovering near your gun. You search each room hastily, growing more anxious with every empty space, until you reach the final room—the one that holds the most guarded secrets.

You pause outside the door, peeking in cautiously.

Inside, a well-defined man with pink, fluffy hair, leather pants, and a sparkly bomber jacket stands with his back to you, working at one of the computers. This is the information hub, where all vital data is stored. This is bad, but you have the element of surprise. Steadying your breath, you draw your gun and step into the doorway, your voice commanding, “Freeze!”

The man doesn’t freeze. Instead, you watch as he swiftly pulls a USB drive from the computer, moving with a grace that is almost dance-like. Before you can react, he glides across the floor and stands before you, a sword at your throat. A thrill of excitement runs through your body.

You stand still, a smile twisting on your lips, locked in a standoff with the pink-haired intruder. He’s chosen the wrong weapon to threaten you with. “You brought a sword to a gunfight?” you laugh, despite the blade pressing against your throat, your gun aimed at his chest. Who really has the upper hand here?

“Oh, I have a gun too,” he smirks, his voice sweet but laced with danger.

“What are you doing here?” you seethe, standing your ground.

“Getting information,” he replies matter-of-factly, not even breaking a sweat.

“You’re stealing. I can’t allow you to leave,” you spit, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Do you even know what kind of information you’re guarding?” he challenges, his words striking a chord. He’s not the first to ask you this today, and it makes you pause. “I know nothing, and I don’t care,” you respond after a moment’s thought.

“You really should,” he says, stepping closer until your gun is pressed against him. He doesn’t seem afraid, almost as if he’s an adrenaline junkie like you. But no, he’s not scared. He’s reckless. Your finger hovers near the trigger, but something makes you hesitate. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t like it.

His eyes, dark pools of obsidian, glint with amusement. He chuckles, and before you can react, his boot slams into your stomach, sending you sprawling to the cold, hard floor. Your gun slips from your grip, clattering away.

The man towers over you, his boot pressing down on your pussy, the katana poised at your throat, its cold blade grazing your skin. You raise your arms in a defensive pose, trapped and weaponless. He smirks, waving your gun tauntingly.

“You’re guarding information that can save humanity. What you’re doing is sick,” he spits, pressing his boot harder into you. Why does that feel hot? Why do tingles shoot through your body? Damn it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you growl back, genuinely confused. Your mind feels hazy with adrenaline and something else.

“The cure for cancer,” he snarls, his anger palpable.

Your eyes widen. The cure for cancer? You’ve heard whispers, but you didn’t know that’s what you were guarding. You know there’s treatment, but the New World Order has been hoarding those as well, making treatment inaccessible for the common people.

He presses his boot into you even more, a mix of pain and pleasure surging through your body.

“Oh my god. Are you getting turned on right now?” His voice drips with dark amusement, mocking you.

“Fuck no!” you yell, even as your body betrays you, responding to the pressure of his boot. You know you’re aroused, but you refuse to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I can smell you from here. There’s no point in lying,” he chuckles, lifting his boot from your crotch, though his sword remains at your throat.

You hate how observant he is, and you need to change the subject, to find a way out. You growl, “I’m not. And you’re not getting away. I don’t care if it’s the cure for cancer or whatever you’ve stolen.”

“I have my katana at your throat. I’m sure I’ll make it out just fine,” he replies, his dark chuckle sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve got what I came for,” he says, smirking down at you. “I’m flattered you’re turned on. Maybe if we met under different circumstances,” he adds, his eyes glinting with dark lust. “You should look into the secrets you’re guarding,” he says, withdrawing his katana and retreating, tossing your gun far out of reach.

You scramble to your feet as soon as he’s gone, snatching up your gun and bolting after him through the corridors. He’s silent, almost ghost-like, but you chase him nonetheless. He can’t leave with the vital information. The New World Order will have your head if they find out. You hear the click of a door—it’s the backdoor. You rush outside, the heavy rain stinging your face as the neon lights flicker on the deserted street. You catch sight of his motorcycle’s tail light disappearing into the rain. 

Fuck.

As soon as he crosses the threshold between the Capital and the dystopian suburb, the rain ceases abruptly. He twists the throttle of his motorcycle, speeding through the desolate landscape back to the hideout. His heart pounds, but he doesn’t look back. He doubts he’s being followed.

The journey back is swift. As the hideout comes into view, he decelerates, parking his bike with a sense of triumph. He’s relieved not to return empty-handed and, more importantly, to have survived the mission. Reflecting on the encounter, a smirk forms on his face. You were easier to deceive than he anticipated. A part of him hopes to see you again, intrigued by your reaction to seeing him. 

He wonders if he could sway you, make you see the truth about the secrets you’re guarding for The New World Order. Could he enlist you in his cause? The thought intrigues him, though he doubts it. You seemed too ignorant, too indifferent to the atrocities made by the regime.

The night is still young as he dismounts his bike and strides toward the door. It opens easily—unlocked, as usual. They really should lock it; you never know who might come by.

He’s greeted by a flurry of curious eyes as his friends jump up, their eagerness palpable. “Relax,” he gestures, “sit down.” Reaching into the pocket of his leather pants, he pulls out the USB drive. The tiny piece of tech holds the key to saving the world— the cure for cancer. Something they had all doubted, but had uncovered through relentless investigation, exposing the dark secrets of The New World Order.

He strides over to Namjoon, whose eyes glitter with excitement, his fingers itching to grasp the device and run an analysis. Jimin hands him the USB drive with a proud smile. “Here,” he says, “I hope everything’s on there. I was interrupted while pulling the data.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon responds, already heading into a back room, eager to delve into the contents.

Jimin collapses onto the spot Namjoon vacated, feeling the weight of their stares. 

Bora clears her throat. “You said you were interrupted?”

“Ah, yeah,” he chuckles, revealing his crooked teeth. “A security guard. But she was easy to handle.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Yoongi grunts, his voice strained and raspy.

“It was,” Jimin shrugs, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. In truth, it had been almost too easy. He can’t shake the thought: had he overlooked something, or was fate simply on his side this time?

Jungkook’s questioning stare pierces through Jimin, but he doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to share how you made his blood boil with adrenaline and lust. He doesn’t even know your name, but you ignited something within him, a cocktail of emotions in mere moments. He’s both intrigued and captivated by you.

Time blurs as Jimin waits, lost in his thoughts until Namjoon reenters the living room. The look on Namjoon’s face is enough: it’s not the cure.

“This data isn’t complete,” Namjoon groans, frustration etched across his features as he waves the USB drive. He paces anxiously, “It has some information on cancer treatment, but the data on the cure is fragmented. Jin, can you take a look at it? All I see are molecules. I don’t know what to make of it,” he adds, his voice tinged with nervous laughter and defeat.

Jimin’s stomach sinks, a heavy weight of disappointment and anger settling in. He had hoped to secure all the needed information, but now they’re still unable to help Bora, Yoongi, and countless others suffering from the cancer that The New World Order likely caused. The thought sickens him. It wouldn’t surprise him if they were behind everything—the war, the slaughter of mankind. Sometimes it feels like The New World Order is playing a sick game of battle royale with the world’s population. People fight desperately, both for information and survival, in a world where information and treatment are hoarded like treasures. 

Jimin’s mind races, thoughts swirling with the grim reality: when people are dying and sick, they become desperate, willing to do anything to stay alive. He feels a bitter mix of anger and sadness, questioning if he was delusional to think it would be easy to obtain the cure or even secure vital treatment information. The hope that things could change for the better feels like a distant dream.

Jin takes the USB drive, slipping it into his pocket, and gives Jimin a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading to his patient and study room. Jimin feels a gnawing sense of inadequacy, berating himself for getting caught and distracted by you. He wonders if he should attempt to sneak back into the New World Order building, determined to obtain the missing data they desperately need.

“I’ll go back and see if I can get the remaining data in a few days,” he declares, his voice tinged with deflation but underpinned by a strong current of willpower. He can’t afford to fail again. The mission is too important, the stakes too high.

It’s been a few days since the pink-haired guy infiltrated the New World Order building undetected, slipping through your fingers like sand. The incident has left you feeling weird and anxious. You expected The New World Order to contact you, reprimand you, or worse, eliminate you. But there’s been nothing—no messages, no ominous visits. Maybe they don’t know about your slip-up yet? Or perhaps they’re biding their time.

Your phone, a sleek piece of tech courtesy of The New World Order, vibrates in your hand. You unlock it, and a text message glares back at you.

New World Order: Come to the headquarters in 15 minutes.

That’s all it says, nothing more, nothing less. You gulp, feeling your palms grow sweaty. This is it. This is how you die. Thrown off the tall building. You’ve heard stories, and they’re not nice. The tales of disappearances and silent executions run through your mind, making you shiver with nerves.

You lace up your boots with trembling hands, each loop a countdown to your potential demise. Trudging down the stairs of your dark apartment, you step into the rainy street. The city around you is a dismal sprawl of neon lights and shadows, a perfect reflection of your inner turmoil. You try to calm your racing heart, but it’s a futile effort. Every step feels heavier, every breath more labored as you make your way to the New World Order headquarters, fearing that this is the end.

You reach the New World Order headquarters, a monolith of cold steel and glass looming above the city. For a moment, you let the rain caress your face, cleansing you of your sins. Maybe they won’t mention anything? Clenching your fists, you walk into your workplace, passing through the security scanners, the impassive front desk, the sterile halls, and finally to the elevators. You step into one, the doors closing with a cold finality. The elevator ascends, a silent reminder of the 30 floors that separate you from potential death should you be pushed out. You close your eyes, banishing the thought.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing an amble-lit hallway adorned in red and gold. The color scheme feels both luxurious and ominous, a blend of future opulence and ancient dread. The red rug underfoot seems out of place, a relic amidst the high-tech surroundings. It suddenly hits you—it might be there to hide a certain color of liquid. No, you shouldn’t think about it. Nothing’s going to happen to you.

Each step down the hallway feels like walking through a graveyard at midnight, the silence thick and oppressive. Your breath quickens, your hand hovering over the handle of the door at the end. This is it. Just get it over with.

With sweaty hands, you push open the door and step inside. A tall man in a black suit stands with his back to you, staring out of the tall windows. The view overlooks the bleak, rainy city, a desolate wasteland stretching to the horizon. The room is deathly silent, save for the patter of rain against the glass. You feel a shiver run down your spine.

He doesn’t turn to acknowledge you, his presence as cold and unyielding as the cityscape beyond. You gulp, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for him to speak, waiting for your fate to be decided.

You clear your throat, the sound echoing in the tension-filled room. The man’s attention snaps to you, and he turns on his heels with a sinister smile. “Y/N!”

The way he says your name sends shivers down your spine, raising the hairs on your body. An urge to flee or jump out of the window floods your senses, but you force yourself to steady your resolve.

You recognize him as the head of the organization, though his name remains a mystery, like everyone else’s in this godforsaken place. Faces are familiar, but names are a dangerous luxury.

“Glad you could make it. Take a seat,” he gestures to the chair in front of his imposing wooden desk, an artifact of richness you could never dream of affording.

You gulp, a slight ringing in your ears accompanying your erratic heartbeat. Your palms are slick with sweat as you move to sit down.

“Nervous?” he asks, his voice calm and commanding as he paces the room.

“Yes,” you manage to say, gulping again as you track his movements.

“Good,” he replies, looking down at you with a predatory glint in his eye.

“I saw the surveillance footage from the break-in a few days ago,” he begins, his eyes boring into you with an unsettling intensity. Fear knots in your stomach, paralyzing your muscles as you brace yourself for whatever comes next. You remain silent, too scared to speak, knowing that he already knows everything that happened.

“You’ve gone soft. If this happens again, shoot the intruder, or you’ll be the one staring down the barrel of a gun,” he says, his voice sharp and precise, each word like a blade against your throat. A chill runs through you, and you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You’ve messed up, but somehow he’s letting you off with a warning—something you didn’t expect. A small part of you dares to breathe a little easier.

“Now leave before I change my mind,” he hisses. You flinch, your body reacting instinctively as you rush to the door. Bowing quickly, you slip out without a word. Outside, you realize you’ve been holding your breath and you gasp for air, your hands trembling.

You know you have to do your job better if you want to survive. The threat lingers in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder about the secrets you’re guarding. What could be so important? Maybe it’s time to investigate—time to find out if this job is truly worth risking your life for.

Your boss won’t find out, right? You gulp, pushing the thought away. You need to know. You’ve done your job blindly for so long, but the time has come to uncover the truth. You know the higher-ups won’t give you any information, even if you asked, which is why you find yourself downstairs in the control room.

You locate the computer you usually use, turn it on, and log into the company drive. Your fingers tremble as you navigate through multiple folders, delving deeper into the rabbit hole. You uncover information you never imagined existed. Details about how and why the war started shock you—who knew a failed peace treaty could lead to such global devastation? The realization hits you hard: the war was actually orchestrated by a few countries aiming to seize power when the peace treaty collapsed. Those people now form The New World Order. A chill runs down your spine.

You stumble upon a folder detailing the side effects of radiation, studies on various cancer treatments, and ultimately, a cure for cancer. Disbelief floods your mind as you stare at the words on the screen. You blink, hoping the text will change, but it remains. The next document reveals their sinister plan: to keep this life-saving information hidden, ensuring only the rich survive while letting the rest of humanity rot and die.

This is what the pink-haired man wanted you to know. Regret and anger churn in your gut—you should have listened, should have questioned everything from the start. You feel sick, overwhelmed by the weight of the truth. You close the computer, resolve hardening within you. 

As you leave the control room and head home, your mind swirls with thoughts. You need to figure out what to do with this explosive information before your shift tonight. The rain continues to fall, each drop a reminder of the world’s decay. You realize now that your role in The New World Order’s scheme is far more sinister than you ever imagined.

Jimin has to obtain the missing piece of data his group needs for the cure for cancer, or at least information to develop new treatments. Ever since the war started, all research and treatment for cancer have been inaccessible. Late at night, at their hideout far from the Capital, Jimin prepares for his mission. He looks at Bora and Yoongi—Yoongi, in particular, has deteriorated, and Jimin fears he doesn’t have much time left. The urgency gnaws at him; failure is not an option.

He doesn’t know whether he hopes to meet you at the New World Order headquarters or not. The thought of you makes his heart race, but he knows that if you get in his way, his mission might fail. He sighs, waving goodbye to the group, then steps outside. The night is oppressive, the air thick with the scent of decay and rain. He puts on his helmet, the world narrowing to the visor’s view, and straddles his bike. The engine roars to life, vibrating through him, merging with the adrenaline surging in his veins.

It’s now or never.

He twists the accelerator, the bike surging forward into the darkness, toward the lifeless, desolate Capital. The neon lights flicker ominously as he speeds into enemy territory, a lone figure against the backdrop of a crumbling dystopia.

The room is dark—just the way you prefer it. Your eyes, adept at seeing through the gloom, catch every detail, including the pink-haired intruder hunched over a computer terminal, stealing vital information from your employer. Silently, you watch him, observing his methodical movements as he navigates the screen. The monitor casts a ghostly blue light, making his hair shimmer with a surreal purple hue. You can’t deny he looks striking.

Tonight, you decide not to intervene. After your own clandestine investigation into your employer, you understand why he’s after the data—why so many risk everything to steal it. The New World Order’s secrets are dark and twisted, and the pink-haired man’s quest suddenly seems justified.

Minutes tick by in silence, the intruder’s focus unbroken. His sparkly bomber jacket gleams faintly in the dim light. Finally, he seems satisfied, pulling a USB drive from the terminal. The moment he turns around, you flick on the lights.

Yellow fluorescent tubes flicker to life, bathing the room in a harsh, sickly glow. He freezes, one hand instinctively hovering over the katana strapped to his back, the other gripping the USB drive.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you smirk, leaning casually against the wall by the exit, blocking his escape.

He hisses, scanning you up and down before his features relax into a smirk. “Where’s your gun? Aren’t you gonna try to stop me again, pretty?”

Your eyes sparkle at the compliment, much like his jacket, and you chuckle softly. “Nah,” you shrug, but straighten your posture, exuding confidence.

He quirks an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Why?”

You take in his appearance—black leather pants hugging his thick thighs, lace-up military boots, and that unmistakable sparkly bomber jacket. With a soft, yet sultry smile, you reply, “I finally opened my eyes to what’s really going on. What’s truly been happening, and I don’t like it one bit.”

His shoulders relax further, and his hands withdraw from the katana and the gun stashed behind his back. He eyes you with a mixture of caution and intrigue, seemingly pleased by your revelation.

“So, you’re just gonna let me go?” he asks, ensuring he hasn’t misheard.

“Yeah. But actually…” you begin, drawing out your words to capture his attention as you step closer, batting your eyes at him. “I have more information back at my apartment that you might want to see. I can take you there. Show you.”

You can’t help the way your body responds to him—you want him, and you want him bad. It’s true, you do have valuable information at your place, but your ulterior motives are undeniable. The risk is immense. The moment you make this move, you’ll become a wanted criminal, hunted by the New World Order. But the thought of remaining complicit in their schemes sickens you. You crave freedom, and he might just be the key to it.

For a flicker of a second, you catch him stuttering, but he quickly collects himself, smirking back at you. His pink tongue darts out to wet his lips in a teasing move, and you feel a tingle between your legs.

“Let’s go then,” he says, brushing past you and out the door. You follow closely, aware of the cameras tracking your every move, but you don't care. Time is short; the New World Order will come after you soon, so you need to be quick.

The pink-haired man leads the way through the dim, familiar halls to the back door. The green emergency light flickers ominously overhead. He pushes the door open, and the bleak night greets you with flickering neon lights. His sleek silver bike stands nearby. As you approach, he hands you his helmet and lets you straddle his bike, taking the place behind you. His body presses close against your back, and a surge of arousal courses through you.

You turn the bike on, and it roars to life. With a swift movement, you speed through the empty, rain-soaked streets back to your apartment. His arms wrap securely around your torso, and it feels nice. His head rests against your shoulder, and you catch a whiff of his scent—like fresh cotton on a summer's breeze, something you haven’t smelled in a long time. You long for it.

It doesn’t take long to reach your apartment. You turn off the bike, parking it out of sight from prying eyes. He gets off first, then you remove the helmet and jump down. Neither of you speaks as you walk up the stairs to your first-floor apartment. You quickly unlock the door and push into your dark space. The lights are off, and the place is messy with clothes strewn about, but you don't care. The apartment is a tiny one-bedroom, an open space where the kitchen, living room, and bedroom blend together. It’s small, but it’s home.

“Welcome,” you whisper, closing the door behind you, sealing both of you in a cocoon of secrecy and danger.

The tension between you feels thick as you make your way inside, heading straight to your desk and rummaging for the flash drive you’ve hidden. The man’s eyes follow your every move as you open a drawer and pull out the drive, smirking as you wave it in the air. “This has more information on it that I think you’ll need.”

He stalks closer, his smirk widening. In the minimal light, he seems even more predatory than before. The look in his eyes suggests he wants to devour you right then and there.

“What’s in it for you?” he asks, standing mere millimeters from you, your noses almost touching. His warm breath fans your ear and neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Take me with you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. His eyes roam your body, lingering on your eyes, cheeks, nose, lips, and collarbone.

“Hmm,” he hums, his hands landing on your hips. You feel the warmth of his fingers through your leather pants.

Your breath quickens, and you feel like you’re crumbling beneath his stare, utterly aroused for this man whose name you still don’t know. The mixture of arousal and adrenaline makes you feel almost high.

You close the gap between you and kiss him. It’s quick and needy, and he responds immediately, pressing his body hungrily into yours, his fingers digging into the bare skin of your waist above your pants. His lips are soft, but his moves are hard and hungry.

He moves his lips to your ear, kissing and licking it, then trailing down to your neck. He marks it with his teeth, eliciting a needy moan from you. The world outside your darkened apartment fades away, leaving only the desperate, electric connection between you.

“You’re really something,” he pants into your ear, his breath sending tingles down your spine and all the way to your core. “I want to taste you, and I don’t even know your name.”

You chuckle, the sound strained and laden with lust. “It’s Y/N,” you manage between pants. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Jimin,” he murmurs, his tongue tracing your neck before biting gently.

Fuck.

“I want you, Jimin,” you groan as he pulls back slightly, his pupils blown wide with desire.

“But we don’t have much time,” you say breathlessly, the urgency of your situation seeping into your voice. “The New World Order will be looking for me soon.” You fumble with your pants, dragging them and your panties down to expose yourself to the cool air of the apartment.

In one fluid motion, Jimin drops to his knees, looking up at you with a teasing lick of his lips. “No worries, I can be quick.” Without another word, he dives in, his mouth sealing around your wet heat.

You gasp his name, your legs turning to jelly as your hands find purchase in his pink locks. His tongue is relentless, strong and skilled as it laps over your clit and teases your entrance. The obscene noises he makes against you only heighten your arousal, your breathing growing shallow as you lose yourself in the sensation.

Your back meets the wall, and you do your best to hold yourself up as he devours you from the floor. His mouth works you expertly, sucking and licking, driving you closer to the edge. The coil in your stomach tightens, your body trembling with the impending climax.

Jimin grunts into your cunt, his teeth grazing your clit, and the world shatters around you. He sucks hard, creating a perfect seal around your sensitive nub, and the coil in your stomach snaps. You come undone on his tongue, panting furiously as waves of pleasure wash over you.

Even as you orgasm, he doesn’t stop, his tongue continuing its assault, his nose pressing against your clit. You grab his hair, trying to pull him away as your sensitivity peaks, but he holds you there, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation and back into the abyss of pleasure.

His face glistens with your slick, and you think he looks beautiful, so you grab his sharp jaw and pull him up for a kiss. You don’t care that you taste yourself on his plush lips.

You break away and say, “I really want to return the favor,” your hands toying with his pants as you brush against his already erect dick.

He pushes your hand away gently. “It’s okay. You said to be quick, so you can do that another time.” He kisses you again, trailing down to the other side of your neck, then up to the shell of your ear. “I really just want to fuck you now.”

You’re drenched, dripping with arousal. His words render you speechless; you bite your bottom lip and nod, anticipation coursing through you.

The sound of his zipper sends a thrill down your spine as he opens his pants. He drags his boxers down, and his cock springs free. It’s thick and of an average length, and the sight makes you salivate. You wish you had time to take him into your mouth, but that’s a pleasure for another time, like he promised.

The head of his cock is red, with a bead of precum at the tip. It looks beautiful, and your pussy clenches around the emptiness, eager to be filled. You can’t wait to have him stretch you, it’s been so long since you’ve had sex. It’s honestly been years, and as you realize this, you think he should have prepared you more. But you don’t get to mull over it for long; you feel the tip of his cock against your folds, and in one fluid motion, he pushes inside you.

You moan his name as he grabs both of your legs and wraps them around his waist, driving himself deeper into you. You feel so fucking full, it’s delicious.

“Fuck. I forgot about a condom,” he pants, slamming you hard against the wall. He stays inside for a moment before beginning a relentless rhythm of thrusts.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, “I’m clean, and I can’t get pregnant.”

He just grunts in your ear, then starts nibbling on it. The pace he sets is quick, hard, and dirty—unforgiving. But you don’t mind; you're pressed for time anyway. The pleasure is intense, and the way he growls into your ear makes the knot form in your stomach again.

“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he growls, thrusting hard and deep. “You wanted this right from the start, didn’t you?” His voice is low, dangerously so, making you even wetter because he’s so right.

“Such a fucking slut for cock,” he pants, his tongue trailing along your neck. “No one in this godforsaken city to satisfy your needy pussy.”

You clench around him, your hands gripping his shoulders, fingers digging into the back of his sparkly jacket.

“Fuck. You’re so tight,” he groans, his hips working overtime to pleasure you, and your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Are you gonna come?” he asks, a wicked glint in his eyes.

You moan in response, releasing a wave of liquid around his cock, making the glide even smoother.

“Fuck. You’re gorgeous,” he says, licking your neck again. “I’m gonna come too.”

With a rapid burst of thrusts, he spills his warm seed inside your still-pulsating pussy. For a moment, you rest your foreheads together, panting for air. Your legs remain wrapped around his waist as he hungrily kisses your lips.

You feel a mixture of your essences trailing out of you, pooling on the floor or your panties—you don’t really care.

As you struggle to steady your breathing and rapid heartbeat, a pounding on your door shatters the moment. It's not gentle—it’s hard and oppressive, sending a terrible shiver down your spine. The New World Order. Your mind turns razor-sharp, senses heightened. Jimin quickly softens inside you, then pulls out, your legs falling to the floor, dripping semen as he pulls up his pants and grabs his gun and the hard drive.

You do the same, hastily pulling up your pants as the banging continues. The door handle rattles, but it doesn't open. Thank fuck you locked it.

“We have to leave,” you pant, your heart in your throat. You fumble for your phone, then throw it into your room—you don’t need it; they can track you with that.

“No shit,” he grunts, running a hand through his disheveled pink hair.

“We gotta jump out the window,” you say, fear in your eyes. You know it’s only a matter of time before they break down the door.

You grab Jimin’s hand and pull him to the window beside your bed. Thankful that you live on the first floor, you make the jump first, landing on the dirty ground. Jimin follows, landing more gracefully. You hear the brute force of the door breaking, and you startle, fear coursing through you. But Jimin is quick, pulling you to his bike, shoving his helmet onto your head. He straddles the bike, and without much thought, you climb on behind him.

You lean against him, feeling the rapid beating of your heart. He turns on the bike, and you hear shouting and gunshots from your apartment as Jimin speeds down the rain-soaked streets. You lay your head against his back, closing your eyes against the chaos behind you.

Jimin parks his bike in front of the Whalien 52 headquarters, and you dismount first, removing the helmet and handing it to him. He follows suit, and you both stride into the building. It’s well past midnight now, and as you walk into the headquarters with Jimin, all eyes turn toward you. The tension in the room is palpable; they’ve likely been anxiously awaiting his safe return.

“Hi,” he says casually, plopping onto the couch with a soft thud.

“Who’s this?” Taehyung strides up, pointing at you with a raised brow.

“Oh, that’s Y/N. The woman who got in my way last time,” Jimin shrugs as if this is information everyone should already know.

“So you decided to take her home?” Taehyung asks in disbelief.

“I helped him gain extra information. And I want out of the New World Order,” you say, crossing your arms, not flinching under their scrutinizing stares.

“You’re the enemy though,” Yoongi joins the conversation, his voice strained with a cough.

“She really isn’t. Do you even know how much she’s risked just by coming here?” Jimin retorts, defending you without fully understanding why. He knows you can defend yourself just fine.

“I have a target on my back now. So I want to help you guys. Make things right in the world. That’s what you want to do, right?” you ask, scanning the open living room space.

The room falls silent, the weight of your words sinking in. The dim, flickering lights cast long shadows, amplifying the room’s tension. Each member of the group seems to wrestle with their thoughts, eyes flicking between you and Jimin. Finally, Seokjin steps forward, his gaze steady and thoughtful.

Seokjin approaches Jimin with an intense gaze. “Did you get all the data?”

Jimin nods silently and hands over both the USB drive and the flash drive you gave him in your apartment. Seokjin’s eyes light up with a rare glimmer of hope as he takes the hardware and retreats to his makeshift lab.

You slump down beside Jimin, exhaustion finally catching up with you. Jungkook steps forward, extending a hand. “Welcome to Whalien52, Y/N.”

You shake his hand, offering a tired smile, then lean back against Jimin. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you both allow yourselves a moment of rest. But Jimin’s mind races with concern. How quickly will the New World Order track you down? Did they follow you here?

Time becomes a blur in the dimly lit room. You drift off to sleep on Jimin’s shoulder, and his eyelids grow heavy as well. Just as he’s about to succumb to slumber, Seokjin bursts into the room, a triumphant smile lighting up his face.

“I’ve sequenced a cure from the data,” he announces, his voice brimming with joy. “And treatments for various cancers too.”

The room erupts in cheers and laughter, a collective sigh of relief and celebration filling the air.

“I’m preparing the cure for Yoongi and Bora now,” Seokjin adds, his pride evident.

Jimin feels a surge of relief and accomplishment. They’ve finally done it. You’ve secured the cure for cancer. Now Yoongi and Bora can be saved. And perhaps, just perhaps, they can save the rest of civilization. But first, they have to deal with the looming threat of the New World Order. 

The battle is far from over.

It’s been a few days, and the absence of the New World Order’s presence is unnerving. You expected them to chase you and Jimin out of the city, but they haven’t. This silence feels ominous, a dark cloud hanging over your newfound sanctuary.

You’ve settled into the daily routines of Whalien52, where hope and caution dance a tense waltz. Seokjin tirelessly crafts cures and treatments. Yoongi and Bora, the first recipients, show promising signs of recovery, their improvements a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty. The group celebrates these small victories, buzzing with a cautious optimism that almost feels too good to be true.

In these days of uneasy peace, you’ve found roles within the group. Namjoon introduced you to his intricate tech—ingenious weapons and machines designed for survival. Taehyung showed you around the small town that Whalien52 calls home. On the horizon, the Capital looms like a dark sentinel, a constant reminder of the lurking threat.

Despite the calm surface, the air is thick with anxiety. The lack of action from the New World Order feels wrong. Yoongi polishes weapons with a grim focus, and you’ve all had tense conversations about the impending attack you’re sure is coming. Jungkook echoes your concerns, insisting on readiness.

Hoseok monitors the New World Order’s communications, but all he gets is an unsettling silence. This lack of intel twists your stomach into knots. Each passing day, the tension ratchets up. The quiet eats at you, turning every creak and rustle into a potential threat.

Weeks pass, and the tension in the headquarters is palpable. You’re all on edge, constantly looking over your shoulders. Every sound is magnified, each one making you jump, hearts racing with the fear that the New World Order has finally come for you.

Everyone is exhausted, sleep deprived and on edge, each day a relentless battle against the looming threat of the New World Order. You long for an end to this tense limbo, for the chance to truly rest.

Yoongi’s condition has worsened, and Seokjin’s latest research scatters your fragile hopes. “This isn’t a cure,” he admits, deflated. “It’s just a temporary fix, a treatment.”

Yoongi coughs weakly but manages a smile, hugging his girlfriend Bora tightly. “But it helps,” he says softly. “A cure was always a dream. There’s never been a real cure for cancer, and maybe there never will be.”

Bora kisses his forehead, her eyes glistening with determination. “The treatment is helping,” she insists, caressing his cheeks. “Maybe Seokjin can alter it, make it better, stronger?” She turns to Seokjin, who nods, already lost in thought, considering how to enhance the treatment. You all want to help, driven by a fierce collective will to save Yoongi.

You walk over to Jimin, giving him a soft kiss, seeking a moment of solace. Suddenly, the sharp crack of a gunshot shatters the room. Bora screams in pain, and chaos erupts. You all drop to the floor, hearts pounding in sheer panic. For a moment, there’s an eerie silence, broken only by Bora’s agonized cries. You can’t see her or Yoongi, shielded by the couch.

Frantically, you search for Jimin, and his hand finds yours, squeezing tightly. The connection is a lifeline, a brief reassurance amidst the terror.

More gunshots pierce the air, and you hold your breath, praying Bora is alright. Your heart races, the reality sinking in: the New World Order is here, ready to kill you all.

With steely resolve, you clench your free hand, feeling the cold metal of your holstered gun against your thigh. 

It’s time. 

Time to make a stand. 

Time to fight back.

You look at Jimin, your eyes wide with panic as your heart pounds in your ears. He army crawls to your weapon stash, grabbing an arsenal: a rifle he slides over to Yoongi, a gun for himself, and his sword, which he straps on while still lying on the floor. Jungkook, with his tattooed hand, clutches a rifle down his length of his body. You scan the room for Seokjin, Taehyung, and Hoseok, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

Bora’s screams have diminished to grunts of pain. Yoongi drags her towards Seokjin’s room, leaving a trail of blood. An eerie silence falls as you watch them. You hear Yoongi's voice from Seokjin’s room, explaining that Bora’s wound is a flesh wound, pleading for Seokjin to take care of her. Yoongi crawls back into the living room.

“Is Bora okay?” you ask, sweat beading on your hairline, your breathing quick and shallow.

“Yeah. Seokjin’s got her. Namjoon, Tae, and Hobi are in there too,” Yoongi grits his teeth, his face pale with anger.

Jungkook crawls over to join you, “I guess it’s the New World Order knocking down our doors.”

“We have to fight back. Or die trying,” Yoongi spits, his anger palpable. “I’m sick and tired of them. We need to overthrow them,” he says, his eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. You’re all on high alert, fighting for your lives.

The door bursts open, a harsh light from outside flooding in as heavy boots stomp on the floor. You count six people by the rhythm of their steps and then a seventh, moving slowly and deliberately. Ominous, and just by the sound of the boots, you know who it is—the leader.

A cold shiver runs down your spine as your fingers curl around the trigger of your gun. The footsteps grow louder, the moment drawing closer. You roll onto your back, raising your gun for the inevitable confrontation.

Suddenly, you’re yanked by your legs, sliding across the floor with a yell, losing your grip on Jimin’s hand. The leader looms over you, a shadow of dread, as you prepare to fight for your life.

“Well, well. What have we here? Y/N. Nice to see you,” the man sneers, his voice dripping with mockery. You don’t know his name, but you remember him all too well—the leader of the New World Order, the man who had last spoken to you in his office after Jimin’s initial attempt to steal information from your former employer.

You gulp, pointing your gun at him.

He tuts dismissively, “You know that’s useless,” and with a swift kick, he sends your gun skidding across the floor.

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl,” he hisses, his hands casually resting in his pockets while his men, guns trained on you, stand menacingly behind him.

“What you’re doing is sick,” you fume, anger bubbling within you.

Suddenly, Jimin rises, his gun aimed directly at the man before you.

Recognition flickers in the leader’s eyes, “Ah,” he chuckles darkly, “so this is the man you left me for.”

Jimin grunts, “Hands off her.”

“Protective, huh?” he laughs, a cold, mechanical sound that sends chills down your spine.

Your eyes dart between Jimin and the leader, anxiety tightening your chest. You don’t know who will be quicker on the trigger. You hold your breath, terrified for Jimin’s safety. Your heart pounds so loudly it nearly deafens you.

A gunshot echoes through the room, followed by a heavy thud. Your heart sinks as you see the leader still standing. Fear grips you, paralyzing you from turning around to check on Jimin. You feel a scream or a sob rising in your throat, maybe both.

Then, you hear the sound of someone standing up and Yoongi’s voice cuts through the tension, “You are one sick bastard. Keeping vital information to yourself, letting people die of cancer and radiation.” His voice is thick with anger and disdain.

The leader turns his attention to Yoongi and chuckles again, a sound you’ve come to loathe. “Only the elite deserve to live. I don’t mind letting people die to create the perfect world.”

You scoff, the revelation of his twisted ideology making you nauseous. The horror of being part of such a sick scheme churns in your stomach.

As you try to glance over your shoulder to see Jimin, one of the leader’s men grabs you, yanking you into a sitting position. Panic surges through you, but determination hardens your resolve. It’s time to fight back, no matter the cost.

Finally, you spot Jimin lying on the floor. There’s no blood, thankfully, and his hand is giving you a thumbs up. Relief floods your body, momentarily pushing back the fear.

“You are so sick,” Yoongi spits, his voice a raw edge. “You killed so many people, for what? Utopia?”

Your old boss nods, chuckling darkly. “Too much freedom breeds murder and chaos. I needed a clean slate,” he shrugs, strolling past you towards Yoongi, who keeps his rifle trained on him. “People need order. Someone to follow. When the weak and poor have died off, I’ll guide the rest into a New World Order.”

Yoongi spits on the floor, “Over my fucking dead body.” His index finger twitches towards the trigger, his stance solid and ready. 

You stop breathing.

Yoongi fires, but your old boss is faster, landing a shot in Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi hisses, dropping the rifle to the floor.

“I told you it’s useless,” your old boss sneers, chuckling. “Next time I’ll aim for the head.”

Time stretches and warps as he paces the room, taking stock of you all. You’re at a standstill, trapped in the crosshairs of his malevolent gaze. Jimin remains prone, waiting for an opportunity. Yoongi grunts in pain, clutching his wounded shoulder. Jungkook lies still, eyes flicking between you and the leader. 

It feels like game over. 

You’re all going to die.

Your old boss paces slowly, chuckling, reveling in your predicament. “I wonder who I should kill first…” he muses, dragging out the words as he turns towards you. “Your boyfriend, maybe? How do you feel about watching him die?”

Your heart pounds wildly. 

You struggle against the grip of the man holding you by your hair, pain searing through your scalp, but the thought of Jimin’s death is unbearable.

The leader strides towards Jimin, raising his gun. Your breath catches in your throat, terror gripping you as you watch. You scream with all the force in your lungs, a primal sound tearing through the air as you close your eyes, bracing for the worst.

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

The sound of three gunshots fills your ears, and you scream even louder, tears streaming down your cheeks as you call out your lover’s name. More gunshots follow, and the man holding your hair lets go, dropping you to the wooden floor with a heavy thud. Tears blur your vision as you struggle to blink them away, desperate to find Jimin.

But you don’t see him.

Panic surges through you. Where is he?

Your gaze shifts, and you see your old boss, his head snapped back from a point-blank shot, blood pooling beneath him. You gasp, turning your head just in time to see familiar lace-up boots moving purposefully across the room. Chaos reigns. Bora stands in the hallway, a rifle trained on the lifeless body of your boss. She was the one who shot him?

Jimin moves through the room like a lethal dancer, his katana slicing through enemies with precision. Jungkook is on his feet too, methodically picking off the men from the New World Order. Amid the chaos, you see Bora approach Yoongi, who is clutching his shoulder.

“Are you okay, babe?” she asks, her voice strained but determined as she examines his injury.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he pants, noting the bandage on her thigh, stained with blood. “You should lie down.”

“I could say the same to you,” she chuckles, raising her rifle to take aim at another man.

How many are down now? You scan the room, counting seven bodies sprawled on the floor.

“Is it over?” Seokjin calls out, peeking from his room down the hall.

“I think so,” Jungkook replies, clapping his hands together, trying to shake off the tension.

The room falls into a tense silence, the aftermath of the battle settling over you like a shroud. You push yourself up, your body aching and adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Jimin meets your gaze, and you feel a flicker of hope amidst the wreckage. 

For now, you’ve survived.

You rush over to Jimin, pulling him into a tight embrace, relief flooding through you. “I’m okay, babe,” he murmurs, kissing you softly. Thank God.

“We need to take the fight to their headquarters. They’ll be coming for us anyway. Better to surprise them,” Yoongi declares, his voice grim.

“Don’t you think they’d anticipate that?” Jungkook counters, eyeing Yoongi critically. “And you’re in no condition to fight, hyung.”

“The fuck I’m not. It’s just my shoulder. I’m fine,” Yoongi pants, picking up his rifle.

“Let’s go,” Bora interjects from behind Yoongi, her voice determined.

Yoongi spins around, his mouth agape. “You’re staying, babe. Your leg—”

“This is as much my fight as it is yours, and Seokjin patched me up,” she retorts, her stern look brooking no argument. Yoongi deflates, conceding to her resolve.

You all huddle together, gathering weapons for the imminent battle. Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin stay back, while the rest of you head outside to your vehicles.

You and Jimin mount his bike, while Jungkook, Yoongi, and Bora take the car. Jimin hands you a helmet, then puts on his own before revving the engine. The bike purrs to life, and with a roar, he accelerates toward the Capital, Jungkook and the others following in the car.

The journey is a blur, the rain pouring down in relentless sheets as you navigate the desolate streets. The Capital looms ahead, a monolithic reminder of the oppressive regime you’re up against. You skid to a stop in front of the New World Order headquarters, jumping off the bike with Jimin close behind. Jungkook, Yoongi, and Bora emerge from the car, weapons in hand, steely determination etched on their faces.

The rain-soaked mud reflects the harsh glow of neon lights, casting eerie shadows as you steel yourselves for the fight. The headquarters stands ominously before you, a fortress of tyranny that has caused so much suffering. You take a deep breath, fingers tightening around your gun.

It’s time to end this.

“Follow me. The building is massive,” you say, leading the way into your old workplace. Navigating the familiar lower floors is swift; they’re almost deserted. Jimin dances with his katana, each swing mesmerizing, cutting down any opposition with ease. 

Clearing the lower levels quickly, you ascend the stairs, banging open doors and moving through the less familiar upper halls. The men from the New World Order fall easily; many surrender, unwilling to defend a crumbling regime. 

Finally, you reach the top floor, the office of your now-dead boss. Stepping inside, you look out through the tall windows overlooking the city. 

“What do we do now?” you ask, your voice echoing in the silence. 

The horizon flickers with a strange yellow glow. 

Jimin, his katana sheathed on his back, joins you. “Is that the sun?” he asks, his eyes following yours.

“I think it is,” Bora says, intertwining her fingers with Yoongi’s.

“Now that the New World Order is gone,” Yoongi muses, “won’t another group try to take its place?”

“Maybe,” you respond, lost in thought.

Jungkook chuckles beside you. “We’ll make sure no one does. All information will be free and accessible.”

“Aren’t we just like the New World Order then?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

“No,” Jungkook replies firmly. “We’ll let people live freely, with no ‘order’ imposed.”

You all hum in agreement, turning your gaze to the horizon. For the first time in a long while, the oppressive clouds of the Capital part, slowly revealing the sun. The relentless rain stops, and you feel the air shift—this is a new beginning.

→ Taglist: @jeonsbabygirlsworld @11thenightwemet11 @haru-jiminn → Disclaimer: the photo of kitty gang Jimin is a concert photo by a fansite, and I’ve been trying to reverse google search the image to find the fansite/photographer, but without luck. I can see on the original that the fansite name is something along the lines of ‘CelestialYM9999’ but that show on results on google either. If you know the fansite, please let me know so I can credit properly (my photography brain really wants to give proper credit). → Author’s note(2): what do you think? Please let me know! A big shoutout and thank you to @manipulatedstars for having the idea to make Jungkook run a survivalist camp 🥳💜 Now, I can’t wait to write something that isn’t action— back to my sappy romance writing! I think one of the mermaid fics is next on my list ✨

[ratcash-wasgud]

Sorry, I'm frustrated again. I have to write this out.

But let's just like...talk. You and me.

So, Blue Eye Samurai is supposed to be about this strong, undefeatable woman, finding the men who wronged her, struggling with herself and her trauma, and basically becoming a legend, right?

So...tell me, why, we as a fandom decided, that the best person she could end up with, was the guy who told her to kill herself when she was at her lowest, who made her childhood hell, who STILL calls her a dog??

...

Why though? Because he's the only man who was written to be conventionally attractive? So, a jawline is enough to look past clear abuse? Mhm.

"No, bc he changed." ???

The last time they spoke in the first season, (if I remember correctly) ended up with him having a boner, then calling Mizu a demon before storming off.

I don't want to offend people, really, this fandom is lovely but...

I kinda feel like some of y'all only see looks. If Taigen and Ringo would swap roles, I'm sure none of y'all would like the ship anymore.

I'm sorry, really, I'm usually not one to trash ships, but this one is just wrong to me. And the fact that there are clear signs in the show that they wanna make this canon?? Makes me want to drop the whole show.

I know this sounds really dramatic, but this is eating my brain. Like, it genuinely gives me distress when I think about the fact that those two could be canon one day.

Bc I know, the show's creators are a couple. Obvi, they will end up writing a straight couple to win in the end. So this is reason I'm probably not gonna tune in for the second season. I'm afraid shit gets ruined.

(this is also the reason why I've been inactive. kinda lost motivation to write or do work for bes. but i'm on my way to finding motivation and will again.)

(lol.)

[moonrisecoeur]

thoughts on this post aka detective leon and serial killer reader. warning for dark content obvi, mentions of weapons, blood, bodies, murder. also sub leon makes an appearance as usual lol. fem!reader too!!

sorry for the wait lol i’ve been folding laundry anyway let me cook

you know that fucking cop is onto you, he knows more than you want him to but for some reason, even when you know you’ve messed up and are sure you’re gonna be caught, you’re not. no one knows about the evidence you accidentally left behind, clues that trace back to you. when you go back to try and ruin the crime scene to throw the police off the scent, it’s all gone. just a dead body and all of the blood you love to spill.

it bugs you a little bit. where did it go? but you watch as the cops search the crime, hiding in the bushes behind the house when you see the cop you… you just know is the one who did it. he looks like he’s seen that crime scene already, and there’s something bunched into his pocket. that looks almost like your glove that got caught on something and left behind as you were escaping.

you realize he’s looking you dead in the eyes as you make painfully awkward eye contact with him. he smirks and looks away. you wonder why he isn’t telling his colleagues about how he saw you, you wonder why he seems almost amused by you. it’s driving you mad.

you’ve seen him before. you recognize him now. you don’t know his name, but he’s got blonde hair, long enough to cover his blue eyes. looks like a doll. he’s a detective, always showing up to crime scenes in those pretty, expensive suits. he wears a nice watch, cleans himself up well.

you get your hands on his file, all of his records, the time he spent as a patrol officer, back when he was younger. his hair was shorter then. his eyes a bit brighter. he was cute. and now… he’s much more than that. he’s distinguished.

—

leon saw you once, before you could run out when you realized the cops were coming in. he remembers how you looked. bloody, gloved hands holding a kitchen knife. you didn’t see him, but he saw you. he sees you again in the bushes, and you see him this time. it’s a moment where everything stops, and leon feels his dead heart pitter pattering like it hasn’t done in years.

you kinda lose the light in your soul when you become a detective. he’s more somber now than he was when he was on patrol, but what can you do?

he finds out everything he can about you, cross referencing the evidence he finds that everyone else seems to miss with every little thing he can gather, in hopes of figuring out your name, or anything about you, honestly.

he’s come to the conclusion that your sloppiness is caused from the pleasure you take in killing. you leave too much evidence behind, too many clues, christ it’s like you want to be caught, but leon can’t help but be fond of you now that you’re intentionally leaving clues for him to find. little messages like ‘for my favorite detective, ♡’ on notecards next to the body. no one knows what you mean. leon’s becoming more obsessed by the minute.

he’s learned everything about you, every motive, every killing, why, when, how you did it all, and his coworkers know nothing. they’re not even sure how many you’ve killed, much less know anything about you.

it’s betraying his morals, sure, but who really cares? he’s killed people before, he’s no better than you. sure, he tried to convince himself he did it to protect the innocent, but he’s got his own thirst for blood. can’t really blame you for doing for fun what he does for work. you lose your morals anyway when you’re a detective.

he covers for you, gives excuses and ideas to lead the other detectives in the wrong direction. destroys evidence for you. lies for you. he’s desperate for you attention, and he finally gets it when you come into the police station.

you’re not disguised, not dressed to hide your identity. you look.. normal. you smile at the person working the front desk. you’re polite, charming, courteous. leon almost passes you by before double taking and realizing that it’s you.

“well, hello, it’s nice to meet you, detective kennedy,” you smile, reaching out your hand for him to shake, which he does awkwardly. you realize that he’s a lot less cool than he seemed when you first saw him. his lack of social skill is almost charming.

“are you… what are you doing here? are you turning yourself in o-or something?”

“i wanted to see you,” you say simply to him.

he blinks, confused.

“do you want to speak with me? or should i just go, detective?”

“i.. i think we should talk,” he smiles back eventually, “i want to talk to you. really talk.”

you meet him later, after his shift. you tell him your story, your motives. even though he knows them, he lets you talk. he likes listening to you. he tells you about his work, what he’s done to protect you, and when you ask why, he shrugs, “you’re too pretty for prison.” he matches your bluntness.

it takes everything in you not to burst out laughing, amused by leon kennedy’s mind, how his brain even works.

he continues, “but listen, if you’re gonna keep… you know, killing people, you need to run it by me after the fact. i need to get there and make sure there’s no evidence that other detectives will find. don’t worry, i’ll get you a burner phone and everything. just call me when you do it. i’ll help.”

“hmm.. alright. now.. do i owe you anything for your.. protection, detective? should i.. show you how appreciative i am that you’re helping me get away with murder?” you lean in close, suggestively. leon can’t help that he’s easy to seduce.

“i.. i think you don’t owe me anything, but.. if you’d like..” he stutters. you smile. he’s so cute to play with.

he takes you back to his place. you tell him he wouldn’t like yours, with the victim you have tied to a chair in your bedroom. he raises an eyebrow, and you try to calm his worries by saying, “its fine, i drugged him so he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow… do you wanna watch me torture him?”

“i’m… okay, baby,” he says, his voice gravelly and soft at the same time.

you hook up obviously when you get back to his apartment, and it’s the best sex of his life. maybe it’s because he likes dominant women already, but there might also be something thrilling about a woman putting her hands around his throat who’s very well capable of squeezing until he stopped breathing entirely.

thankfully, you don’t asphyxiate him. you lay in his bed with him afterwards, and there’s something so strangely normal about the way you curl up into his side as he draws shapes on your back with his fingertips.

“are you ever.. gonna kill me?” he asks, out of the blue, stirring you from your drowsy state.

you look up at him, and he’s worried you’re considering it. there’s a gun on his nightstand. he panics. you would never get away with it, he’s sure. your dna is all over his body, his clothes, his apartment, surely you’re not that sloppy of a killers.

“i haven’t decided yet,” you say simply, resting your head on his chest.

“o-oh…”

you chuckle, sensing anxiety and tension in his body at your response to his question, “i would only ever do it if i thought you were gonna betray me or something, pinky promise. no matter how… beautiful you would look dying..”

he gulps, and you feel endeared by his fear. he’s.. cute when he’s nervous.

the next day, he wakes up. he puts on another suit, and another fancy watch. he drives you home before he goes to work, and he kisses your forehead before he gets back into his car, “am i gonna be seeing you again tonight?” he asks.

you chuckle, “i’m counting on it, handsome. trust me when i say i look very good in red.”

[kozachenko]

[Click for better quality]

OK finally back with some more drawings! Since Touhou 17 is approaching it's 5 year anniversary soon, I wanted to draw at least one of the charatcers (hopefully I'll still be motivated to draw Keiki lol) and I had some ideas for Saki and I've never drawn her before, so that's how we got here!

Artist's Notes;

So after doing some drawings of my OCs (who I will reveal upon a later date since I still wanna finalize their designs) and finally getting out of my art funk that I've been in for a while, I started off this drawing with the mentality of "oh yeah I'm just gonna put together this quick outfit for Saki and I won't bother rendering it"

...and then I did but to be honest I am very happy I did because oh my god clothes are so fun to render for me now. I remembered the technique I used on my drawing of Reimu and applied that here. That technique being using triangles to imply shadows and highlights in clothing and then blending out those shadows to give the clothing some three dimensionality. My favourite things that I rendered in this piece were the gloves, hat and the belt buckle (since I applied a technique for rendering gold and metal objects that I remember seeing/hearing about a while ago). Don't get me wrong, I love how all the clothing turned out in this piece but the gloves are the real standout of this piece to me. I also had some fun with the cowboy boots (I couldn't figure out how to make those cool metal star things work on the boots though that is a sin I fully intend to fix later down the line) since when I looked at references for them I noticed how some of them had these intricate details embroidered (?) onto them.

Also, in the earliest phases of this drawing Saki had this really big black coat that I decided to get rid of later down the line because it really does not work with her fighting style and it did not stand out against her wings, and the logistics of her getting said jacket with her wings on confused me. Like, I can kind of imaging that on her shirt she has a little open spot for her wings that she can just put them in. That goes for Yachie to but now I'm even more confused because all her clothes must need some open backs because of her shell??? Which raises some more questions, like, can she just never be on her back when sleeping??? Looking at Yuuma we can see that the beast yakuza in Touhou can freely change their form from human to beast so can Yachie just double down on the human bit and get rid of her shell temporarily so she can sleep comfortably??? Because if she lays on her back is she just kinda wobbling around like most turtles are when they're on their backs? Can she hypothetically retreat into her shell, if so that has some weird implications to how her anatomy works. Like, what does her skeleton look like? Seriously, what are the logistics here WHERE DOES YACHIE GET HER FUCKING CLOTHES BECAUSE THEY PROBABLY NEED TO BE SPECIFICALLY TAILORED SO SHE CAN PUT IT ON TO FIT HER SHELL I DON'T NEED SLEEP I NEED ANSWERS YACHIE WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS-

....rant aside, you can see the remnants of this idea in the tattered back of her... idk what to call it but I know she has a variant of this in her OG design. I mainly wanted to test this out because of the cursed realization that The Ghoul in Fallout Prime is just a male Saki but if Utsuho gave Saki radiation poisoning. No seriously, they're smug ass cowboys who are so sure of their own strength that have fought at least one mechanically engineered robot in some variation of a wasteland with an affinity for dogs. I'm now morbidly curious as to what would happen if you put the two of them in a room together. Would they try to kill each other? Would they become besties? Would they try to kill each other and then become besties? Who knows. But yeah jokes aside the tattered cloth was a design choice that was inspired by The Ghoul from Fallout Prime because y'know, same vibes. And also because yes I do love Fallout Prime and I am so ready for season two IT'S SO GOOD GO WATCH IT EVEN IF YOU AREN'T FAMILIAR WITH FALLOUT AS A SEIRES GO DO IT NOW, SAIL THE SEVEN SEAS FOR IT IF YOU HAVE TO JUST WATCH IT-

I knew for Saki's face I wanted to give her some thick eyebrows, it just makes sense. I also wanted to give her some scarring on her face because she's a crime boss, why wouldn't she have scars? I also had some fun with her little horse ear that's sticking out from the side of her hat since it would kinda look weird if she just had no ears period. I also went ham on stylizing her ponytail into this weird swirl, since if I were to show you some of my recent doodles from my sketchbook you would notice that that has become a common motiffe in some of my art. I don't know why but I just like it. Saki's wings were also very fun, I found a good reference for bird wings that are specifically shaped for high speeds (though I did add some stylistic touches so her one wing that's out wouldn't look like a big blob) since her whole thing is speed. From very early on in the process I knew that I wanted Saki to not look skinny, so I found some refs of female kickboxers for her legs and noticed that while parts of their upper body are maybe a bit toned, it's the legs that have a lot of power. I mainly did this because kicking is a huge part of her fighting style.

Overall, I'm really happy with this drawing, and once Touhou 17's anniversary rolls around I do want to go more in depth on my thoughts in the game, it's themes, and how the animal realm functions as a dark parallel to Gensokyo in many ways. I'll also have to get around to drawing Yachie and Keiki as well (if I still have the time and motivation to do so) since I have some ideas for their designs that I'm very excited to draw (especially Keiki).

[dealingdreams]

Qimir's motivations might be a little uncertain. Like all we really know for sure is what he's told us. He wants freedom, freedom to be allowed to practice his power as he sees fit, he wants an acolyte, and he wants the power of two. That said, here just my thoughts.

I think when Mae was asking Qimir about his master aka him, he was actually answering her with some truths about his actual master Plagueis. "He collects people...i owe him" etc...best lies have some truths. Which i have concerns cause we know Palps ends up being Plagie's apprentice and later murderer. Plags did go thru some folks before he found the perfect fit for his world domination plan.

Qimir just doesn't really strike me as someone who is power hungry tbh. i know we techically dont know him well enough yet...but i mean the dude really only attacks when he's threatend. he seems more wounded animal than sith mastermind. so why the power of two...why an acolyte? i think his speech about an acolyte killing the dream...is in relation to how the Jedi at this point in time are the authority on teaching younglings how the force works. they say how and if that power can be used, even going so far as to say that without their teachings, your connection to the force weakens. so having someone showing force capabilites without being a Jedi is kinda a slap in the face to that teaching. Especially if that person can kill a Jedi without the use of a weapon. Like damn..the Jedi aren't that powerful after all yaknow. I think it's just a big fuck you to the Jedi tbh.

He's just wants to be a hot philosophy professor guys

As for the power of two, that is basically the Sith end all be all. He's not a Sith Lord yet...he hasn't taken/been given a name. I really think the only reason he would want the power of two is for his safetly...again he reads as wounded and lost to me...not power hungry. A lot of his choices seem to be made with whatever happened with Vernestra in mind. His shoto blade, which is similar to a saber Luke had in the comics(?) i think...was built to block lightsaber whips. His helmet blocks a Jedi's ability to read his mind or sense him fully. Add in the genuine fear on his face when he sensed Vern...something happened there and it left him so wrecked it's still effecting him all these years later.

Now here is where i think he's fucked.

I do think that he cared about Mae. In fact i think he wanted Mae to succeed and had she not betrayed him I do think he would have continued to train with her. I do also think that he was interested in Osha from the jump, but i dont think at any point he would have tossed Mae to the side for Osha. I think this for the same reason I dont think Qimir was trying to replace Mae with Osha. I think he sees the twins as very different people and has a very different dynamic with them. I think he seized the opportunity with maybe pulling Osha to his side...weither he would have done that had Mae remained his pupil who knows.

Qimir and Mae's dynamic is basically In-Laws lol.

I joke but no i think there was a distance between Qimir and Mae. There was a power imbalance between them. Simply master and pupil. Why he never showed her his face we could only guess. Personally I think it was a combination of him not trusting Mae fully and in case she got caught and a Jedi like Sol or Vernestra went into her Mind. He was simply protecting himself once again. Still he created the persona of Qimir to be a companion to Mae. He still taught her, still assisted her, but did it in an unitimitating way. So yeah I think he cares about Mae. Also just fyi, no I don't think he would have killed her when he found her and Osha at the tree in the aftermath of Sol's death.

So back tho to how he's fucked...Osha...hopefully literally fucked by Osha in the future but also like...he's fucked lol. He never had the choice with showing Osha his face, but he did have a choice on how vulnerable he was with her. We know from literally everyone confirming it that he wasn't manipulating her. He felt a connection to her, felt like she would understand him and he could understand her. That they were the same. I dont for one second see a power imbalance playing out between them. I think many of his actions prove that he views her as his equal. So thats one of the many ways he's fucked. the rule of two doesnt like that very much so i think Plagie might have some issues with that.

I think i could see them like playing master and pupil cause it's safer that way...but honestly they are fucked truly.

anyways ending the rant kinda abruptly lol :P

[street-smarts00]

I have a request for a drabble or headcannon style thing, whatever you prefer. Where spencer and reader are very close (friends or dating you can decide) and he makes a fatal mistake on the job that gets reader killed 😳 if that is something you will do 🥰 thank you

(Long) Drabble: Doubt Comes in

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!reader

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! Normally I don’t like sad endings lol BUT this request gave me the motivation to write something with this idea I’ve had. I almost made it a full one shot but didn't know how. (if you like Orpheus and Eurydice, see if you can catch the hadestown references)

Warnings!: Sad ending/ANGST, Murder, death of a loved one, mentions of kidnapping, anxiety and questioning reality

Its kinda long for a drabble but not long enough where I would call it a one-shot, i got carried away but hope ya'll like it!

The team was working on a case with an unsub that was targeting couples. The team didn’t realize that the unsub had been stalking them since they arrived. He quickly learned of your relationship with spencer. 

You were leaving the precinct to follow up with a victim's family member when the unsub had snuck up on you. After you went missing the team went into a frenzy and tracked your location to an abandoned warehouse. 

When they arrived on the scene they had the unsub on the phone. He claimed that you were safe and unharmed. 

He said you were free to go but only one member of the team could go get you. He demanded they send in her boyfriend. 

Hotch was hesitant to send Spencer in. He was in shambles ever since you went missing that afternoon. His mind was scattered, he couldn’t think of anything but you. 

They figured while this was exactly what the unsub wanted, it was their best chance to get you out safe. 

Spencer was handed the phone and headed towards the warehouse. The building was dimly lit, it was so dark he could barely see 5 feet in front of him. The place was filled with storage and pallet rack shelves turning it into a maze. 

As he made his way through the building the unsub would give him directions if he strayed too far from the path. It was like the unsub had eyes everywhere, he must’ve either had cameras or was positioned on a hidden upper level. 

While Spencer was walking the unsub would taunt him through the phone. Asking questions about your relationship. 

It made him sick. He never said anything to the man on the other end of the line; didn’t want to give the unsub the satisfaction of knowing he was in shambles.

It felt like he had been walking for forever when he finally reached you. You were curled up in a corner of a dead end. When you saw him you jumped up and landed in his arms. He felt you trembling against him and it made his heart crack. 

“You said you would let her go if I came to get her,” he spoke into the phone with a shaky voice. 

“And I intend to keep my promise. You both are free to go. Except, she must walk behind you. You cannot not turn around under any circumstance until you both are out of the building.” 

“What will happen if I do?” 

“Let’s just say you’re wearing a kevlar vest and she’s not. If you turn around, speak, or hang up the phone, I shoot.” Spencer's stomach dropped. “And don’t even think about being a hero and giving her your vest.” 

“That's all we have to do? And we can go?” You asked, voice horse from not speaking in hours. 

The voice on the phone spoke again. “You’d be surprised how many men can not resist the temptation. The worst temptation you’ll ever meet, the one that lines between your ears and behind your eyes.” 

It seemed like a simple enough task. To walk out of the building. Spencer trusted you to be there and you trusted him to keep his eyes ahead. 

He placed a hand on your cheek. “I promise I-“ 

“I know. I love you,” You interrupted. 

“I love you,” he spoke softly before leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. The kiss was desperate, like he was trying to savor every last bit.

You both separated from the kiss and started your journey through the warehouse. This time the unsub wasn’t giving him directions to find his way back. At first he didn’t need them, with his eidetic memory he could recall the pathway he took. 

But as he kept walking the anxiety started to eat away at him. The darkness was messing with his eyes and the silence was deafening. He started to make wrong turns, forgetting which path to take and doubting himself. Either he was getting lost or the building was getting longer. 

The only thing that brought him comfort was the sound of your footsteps behind him. Or was that his footsteps? He didn’t know anymore. 

It felt like his senses were working against him. He already felt like an idiot with his mind not being able to think straight due to your disappearance. But now your life was in his hands and they’ve been trembling since he walked in. 

The logical part of his brain told him there would be no reason for you to not be behind him. But the anxiety running around in his head was questioning if you had ever been there at all. Or why would he let him win? Why would he let her go?

He had thoughts pounding in his mind of “Is this a trap that's been laid for me? Is this a trick that's been played on me?”

After what felt like a lifetime he made it to the front door. His footsteps picked up and he grasped at the handle to feverishly push the door open. 

Spencer walked outside as a wave of relief washed over him. They finally made it. 

He turned to face you as the corners of his mouth perked up. He met your eyes, shining with glee that you made it out safe. 

Then it got loud. He heard gunshots vibrating against his eardrums. Your eyes went wide as saucers. You grasped at your abdomen before you crashed into Spencer. 

How could this happen? They made it out. He said he would let them go. And Then Spencer saw it. 

You hadn’t made it out yet. 

He turned to look at you before you crossed. You both didn’t make it out. You got hurt, and it was his fault. 

He held you close to him. The surrounding sounds all blended together. Morgans screams for a medic, the officers breaking into the building. That all fell on deaf ears. 

It seemed as though his whole life fell apart when he saw you mouth his name as the light disappeared from your eyes.

Your life was in his hands, and he let you slip away.

“Eurydice, dying now a second time, uttered no complaint against her husband. What was there to complain of, but that she had been loved?” ― Ovid, Metamorphoses

[nymph-ette111]

Hello again! Its me the one who requested the proxies with a forest ranger S/o

I sawed your post and kinda went 😮 when I found out forest rangers and fire looksouts aren’t the same thing too ngl. I originally got the idea when I watched/played ‘Fears to fathom: Ironbark lookout’. I actually looked it up and I guess the correct term would be “Park ranger” (I still don’t know bro I could be wrong) but I originally got the idea from the fears to fathom so I guess you could kinda base it off that (minus the cult) but I just thought it would be a cool idea. Like for example on the fire watch aspect, Tim is chronic Smoker and Toby is canonically a pyromaniac (idk about brain in this situation) so like Tim could be smoking or toby could be setting something on fire and you would be side eyeing tf out of them. OR, You could just be trying to peacefully sleep in your watch tower (assuming there is one) and One of them would be knocking at your damn door/window in the dead ass of the night and your just there either terrified, confused, or annoyed (its up to your interpretation).

But anyway sorry for the ramble and confusion, As always I appreciate you and hope you have a wonderful day (remember to drink water) buh/bye now <3

(♡) Authors note; in my old author's note I literally said it was inspired byironbark lookout but then I hesitated bcs I thought it wasn't what you're looking for. good thing I didn't delete the previous work :3 SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT I DIDN'T HAVE ANY MOTIVATION TO WRITE ANYTHING :(

HOODIE;

-before the relationship between you two, he knew about your job as a park ranger/ fire lookout.

-actually, he knew about everything. From the tasks you usually handle to your working schedule.

-the reason he didn't kill you off was because part of your job is keeping campers away from the unregistered camp grounds which was quite convenient on his part. (Perhaps convenient for all of them)

-that way he wouldn't risk getting caught on the way/back from a mission, even though he usually drives to his destinations with a beaten up old truck. He knows how nosey some people are and would definitely pull a curiosity move and possibly find his resort.

-but he also couldn't let you run around freely around the forest either, he just kept an eye on you for a while in case you were too close to finding out about his...'business'

-i can see him stalking you slowly seeping into his routine. could be out of curiosity or genuine interest.

-during your relationship, he'd drop by from time to time in the watch tower even though it's against the rules. He'll be careful, he says.

-he's still an asshole very much like his friends, would probably disregard his mudded hiking boots by the entrance and just throw himself on your bed. Not caring if whatever substance he was covered in (blood) stains your bedsheets or something.

-to make up for it he cooks you food with whatever ingredients you have to offer :3 I like to think he's a good cook, staying out in the forest for long periods of time gained him that skill.

-if he isn't too busy, you two would watch the scenery together :) a little nice bonding moment.

MASKY;

-sigh... This motherfucker would NOT be good company for you at all.

-you could be sleeping peacefully just to wake up and find him standing at the foot of your bed just...staring.

-he's making sure they don't get you lol

-who the fuck is "they" (...does anyone get the reference)

-steals any lighters he finds in the shack just to light up his cigarettes.

-yes, when he puts out his cigarettes he just throws them on the ground. not caring if it's against the rules to litter the forest. at this point they're all trying to get you in trouble whether it's intentionally or not.

-unlike Toby, he doesn't help around that much with your tasks.

-if you manage to convince him to bring up some firewood from the shack so you can light up the fire, just praise him. it's enough to boost his already humongous ego and he might consider helping every now and then just so you could call him your strong, manly boyfrie–

TOBY;

-This stupid fucker would send you disturbing messages on his old ass flip phone at night whenever you still have the planks up.

-some shit like 'i c yu :-)'

-... yeah he never likes typing his sentences properly because he still uses those number keyboards (I don't know what they're called)

-it gives you a heart attack everytime untill you look out the window and see that it's Toby being a weirdo again.

-like anon said, he always sets random stuff on fire which always gets him in trouble, you end up reminding him that you aren't the only fire lookout in the forest and that another worker will report it.

-he doesn't listen.

-he definitely scares off any campers in areas they aren't supposed to be. Hey, at least he isn't completely useless!

-the opposite of Brian/Hoodie, instead of cooking for you he absolutely ravishes anything you have in the fridge.

-no, he isn't sorry.

-other than the things that he does to piss you off he actually does help from time to time like helping you fill in the service reporting— using the anemometer, checking the thermometer...etc

-he thinks the devices look neat :)

[niki-phoria]

⋆｡°✩ chishiya's different types of kisses

warnings: ooc chishiya, mentions of blood/injuries, 'i need you right now' is a little angsty 'are you sure about this?' gets kinda suggestive but no smut (they make out)

a/n: i want more aib requests pls i miss writing for them but i have no ideas

additional note: i made a post about this a while ago please reblog fics from creators and/or leave feedback on them. it means a lot to us. i've barely been getting interaction on my work at all lately and it's really hurting my motivation. it genuinely means a lot to hear that you enjoy the work writers/artists create

based on this post !! i didn't do all of them bc i don't write smut or angst lol

ARISU VERSION / KUINA VERSION

gn reader (no pronouns used)

requests open !! read my rules first

my fav chishiya gif returns

first kiss

(word count 270)

there’s an odd sense of tension in the air as you look at chishiya. his dark eyes are alluring - almost daring you to finally take the dive and fall deep into them. you can barely feel the warmth of his breath from how close you are. you scan the birthmarks and freckles on his face. you picture them creating a constellation across his skin that matches your own, as if the fates are pulling you together. 

“chishiya,” you whisper. your voice is low. your heartbeat pounds in your ears. the world around you slowly begins to fade. the only thing that matters is the man standing in front of you, looking into your eyes as if he’ll be able to read your mind if he searches deep enough. 

“y/n,” he breathes. you hesitantly reach a hand up to push his bangs behind his ear, exposing more of his face. your hand hovers before his face before you rest it against the skin. chishiya doesn’t move away. instead, he leans into your touch. he tilts his head a little closer to you. “can i kiss you?” 

your breath hitches in your throat. you haven’t been sure of anything since you entered the borderland until now. now, you’re sure. you want to kiss him. 

you lean in to press your lips against chishiya’s in a sweet kiss. his lips quirk upwards as he reaches out to hold your hips, coaxing your body even closer. the world could have ended - the beach fallen, vegetation taken over the land, lasers killed everyone - but none of it would matter. because you were kissing chishiya.

"i'm here now"

(word count 342)

it’s late. too late. the sun has set by now. the stars have begun to twinkle in the sky above chishiya. he sighs, leaning back against the wall. you should be back by now. where are you? 

an unfamiliar feeling of anxiety settles into chishiya’s stomach. he’s not used to caring about people. not like this. his mind is running like it always is, though it’s never felt so much like a burden before. chishiya had always prided himself on his ability to analyze situations. he could tell how someone was feeling, pick holes into any theories or ideas presented, find the most rational solution and use it to his advantage.

but right now, chishiya doesn’t want to be rational. all of the signs point to you being dead. why else would you be so late coming back? you’ve been missing for hours. it’s far past the evening now. even if you do come back now you’ll have to find the beach in the darkness. 

he’s broken out of his thoughts by something moving. he only notices it in the corner of his eye, but it’s something - someone. he steps closer, squinting into the darkness. it’s you.

you’re limping along the asphalt of the road towards the beach’s hotel. chishiya simply stares at you for a few seconds. before he realizes what he’s doing, his body begins moving on its own. he’s running towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist, supporting your body weight against his own as you lean against him. dried blood stains your clothes and is splattered on your face. 

“chishiya,” you sigh, clutching onto him. his mind is racing. instead of asking all of the questions that linger on the tip of his tongue, he pulls you closer. chishiya presses his lips against yours in a desperate kiss - as if you’ll disappear if he stops touching you. 

his hands linger on your cheeks when he pulls away, wiping away the tears and blood from your face. “it’s okay,” he whispers. “you’re gonna be okay. i’m here now.”

"come back to bed"

(word count 291)

you groan as chishiya gently coaxes your body to the side, maneuvering your body so you’re laying on the bed instead of his chest. you reach out to grab him, pushing him back down onto the bed. chishiya sighs in defeat as you nuzzle your face against him, effectively holding him down with your own body weight. “did i wake you?” he whispers. 

“you’re so warm,” your voice is muffled against his skin. “i always notice when you leave.” 

chishiya hums, raising a hand to rub against your back. he gently scratches his nails against your bare skin. it feels so intimate to lay like this. your chest pressed against his own, blankets only pulled halfway over your bodies, sunlight streaming through the windows. 

“we have things to do today.” 

“we always have things to do,” you whine, shifting to sleepily blink up at him. chishiya lets a small smile spread across his face. “we won a game last night. let’s just stay like this for a while.” 

you know you’ve won the debate when chishiya’s smile grows. he throws his head back to lean against the pillows. you smile yourself, moving upwards to press a kiss against his jawline before laying back down on his body again, this time with your head against his shoulder. “i hate it when you do this.” 

“do what? cuddle with you? kiss you? force you to get a good night’s sleep?” 

chishiya huffs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “you’re too cute to argue with.” 

you can’t help being flustered, shoving your face back into the crook of his neck. “you love it.” 

“i love you.” 

you press a kiss against his neck, smiling when goosebumps raise along his skin. “i love you too.” 

"are you sure about this?"

(word count 274)

“chishiya?” said man doesn’t even spare a glance at you as he continues working on yet another invention. his shoulders are hunched from how close he’s leaning in to see exactly what he’s doing. you can almost feel how stressed he is, even from across the room. 

you lock the door behind you before stepping closer. you slowly reach out to press a hand against his shoulder, leaning down to see exactly what he’s doing. he’s holding an empty soda can, fiddling with a mess of wires in his hands. a bottle sits on the desk - something he stole from the mechanics. kerosene. 

“you’re making another bomb?” this time he finally acknowledges you, albeit only with a small hum. unfazed by his dismissive behavior you reach over, slowly forcing him to set the wires down. chishiya looks up at you now, silently questioning what you’re doing. instead of answering you push his chair back. 

chishiya’s hands ghost against your hips as you throw your leg over his to straddle his hips. big brown eyes blink up at you as you lean in, finally pressing your lips to his. it starts off innocent enough. sitting in chishiya’s lap isn’t an uncommon experience in your relationship. though things quickly become more heated when he leans up to press his lips against yours into a deeper kiss this time. 

you’re nearly gasping for air when you finally pull away. his face has a light flush, disheveled blonde hair messily pulled into a ponytail. “are you sure about this?” you whisper. 

chishiya leans up, pulling you into yet another kiss. “i’ve never been more sure about anything else.”

"i could stay like this forever"

(word count 338)

chishiya sighs as he enters your shared room. what was supposed a free day was quickly turned into an incredibly long bore when hatter called him and the other executives into meetings for everything he could think of. though pointless, not showing up would risk damaging his position of authority, small as it may be, so he reluctantly dragged himself to the room and sat around at a table for hours. 

you’re sitting on the bed, already waiting for him. he raises an eyebrow at you, kicking his sandals off and stripping from his jacket. the beach’s air conditioning does little to cool him down after spending so long sitting around in a room. “i thought you were supposed to hang out with kuina tonight.” 

“i was,” you sigh. “but that was when i thought i would be spending the day with you. besides, she’s hanging out with arisu and usagi tonight. something about wanting to get to know them better.” 

chishiya hums, sitting down on the bed. you pat the spot next to you, gesturing for him to lay down. despite his questions he obeys, moving so he’s face down on the bed. you shift so you’re hovering over him, pressing your hands against his back. he groans, letting you massage the tension out of his muscles and shoulders. 

after a while, chishiya sighs. you take the cue to move off of him, rolling to lay next to him. he shifts onto his side to look at you, reaching over to pull you into a kiss. it’s gentle. sweet. your lips quirk upwards into a smile when he pulls away. you take the opportunity to hold him down, pressing little kisses all over his face. chishiya laughs at the ticklish feeling. it’s a beautiful sound - one you don’t hear far often enough. when you pull away both of you look at each other with small, loving smiles. an unspoken agreement passes between the both of you. despite it all, you wouldn’t give this up for the world.

[hannamoon143]

From now on

Genre: Angst,Fluff,Comfort

Pairings: Non idol hyunjin x fem Reader

Warnings: Vomiting,heat stroke

A/n: it‘s weird cause i wrote this in a suspicious short amount of time,and it‘s also kinda shortt but i had no motivation cause the idea is kinda lame ik.(btw pls give me requesttssss) i just wrote something,lol.(In my eyes it’s my worst one lol)so please have mercy. Take care of yourself and drink enough,especially when it‘s hot!!!❤️

It was quiet.very quiet.Me and hyunjin sat in the back of the bus,our parents in Front of us.I didn‘t think it would be that quiet when my mom told me we would go on a vacation to the beach.Hyunjins and my parents were best friends since they were teenager.Nothing could seperate them.They had wished it would be the same for their children but it wasn‘t like they wanted it to be.I hated hyunjin.and he hated me.we were the same age,but we always stayed out of the others way.i don‘t even know why we hate each other anymore.it just always was like this.but this vacation meant a lot to my mom so i had no chance to stay home with an excuse.it was the same for hyunjin.the bus ride seemed like it would never end.

After five hours in silence it was finally over.i got out the bus and stretched my limbs.We all went into the hotel.my little sister  talked the whole time during the check in,it was a nice thing,compared to the quiet bus ride. Our moms slept together in a room, and our dads in one.it always was like this when they went on a vacation.my sister slept in a room with our moms. My eyes widened when my mom told me who was in a room with who. „Mom.that means i have to sleep in a room with hyunjin?!“i asked. She gave me a little slap on the arm and said: you two know each other since you were born,don‘t act like that y/n.“with a mischievous smile i asked: „aren‘t you afraid?i am in a room with a boy.alone“ she looked at me with her typical i-know-what-you-are trying-to-do-but-it-won’t-work look.i gave up,and went to hyunjin.

 „Hyunjin,i know we hate each other and stuff but we have to get along for this week,for our moms.“ he looked at me with this bitch look,that only girls used usually.he didn‘t respond and just walked towards our room.i rolled my eyes and followed him.i was sure we somehow could have managed to ignore each other,and don‘t fight but this hope was destroyed when we opened the room.hyunjins mouth was wide open,and so was mine.it was very small,and only one big bed,and a little desk with a white chair were in it. Hyunjin didn‘t hesitate and just let himself fall into the bed. „i sleep here“ he mumbled. „Are you serious hyunjin?! There is only one bed,and not even enough space for a matrace on the floor.“ „not my problem“ i let out a dry chuckle. „It will be your problem when i tell your mom.you know she loves me.“ he rolled his eyes,and he looked pretty annoyed but he rolled to the right side.i hated that we had to sleep in the same bed,he did too.we didn‘t talk,we just built a wall of pillows between our sides,and then we went outside the room. On the way to the lobby he hissed into my ear:if you tell anything my mom i will kill you.Our parents wanted to go to the beach. I was glad i could spend time with my sister and my mom before i had to go back into our room. When we were at the beach my sister and i went swimming,we played some games after a while she went playing volleyball with my mom and hyunjins mom,and i wanted to play too,but then hyunjin also came to them so i stayed in my place.i laid down in the warm sand.it was comfortable.maybe a little to comfortable cause when my sister woke me up after two hours my head and my neck felt really hot.hyunjin only grinned at me when he walked by and whispered something that sounded liek red tomato.with a concerned look my mom asked if everything was okay.i said yes,but i was glad when we went back into the hotel.

my head was punding and i felt very tired.back at the hotel i let myself fall onto my sie of the bed.hyunjin groaned. „Take a shower before you go to bed,or the sand will be in the bed. I only hummed in response,eyes closed.he threw a pillow at me.“hey i‘m serious,i don‘t want all the sand in the bed.i again hummed something in response but weakly got up.when i came back after a quick shower with my pajamas on hyunjin chuckleed and said „you look like a tomato.but it‘s no surprise after you slept in the boiling sun.“i shot him a stern look at wich he only smirked more.i felt really exhausted by now,so i didn‘t argue or tease him,like i usually did.at that he looked a bit surprised but he d didn‘t say anything.i just went to bed and quickly drifted off to sleep.

i felt like i only slept a few minutes but when i suddenly woke up it was 2 a.m.my head felt hot,and it hurt alot.when i tried to sit up straight i whimpered.i felt really dizzy,and a throbbing pain went into my head. I sensed hyunjin stirring on the other side of the bed.i tried not to faint or something. „why are you up,it‘s literally 2 a.m ?“he said in a sleepy but grumpy voice.“ when i didn‘t respond he opened his eyes and sat up a little bit. „Y/n?is everything okay?“ i wanted to respond but suddenly a wave of nausea came over me.i quickly got up and sprinted into the bathroom.i made it to the toilet before throwing up. „woah,are you sick or something?“ i could hear a voice behind me.i only whimpered something,leaning over the toilet.i felt so sick it felt overwhelming. „Hey,should i call your mom or something?“ he sounded concerned. „N..no“ he crouched down besides me. „You are very red in the face „he laid a hand on my forehead for a short time „and you are burning hot“ „i..i don‘t know what to do y/n“.he said.he looked worried,but somehow scared.i didn‘t want to make a scene in front of him,but suddenly the nausea,the dizzines,the hotness and the punding in my head got so overwhelming so tears started running down my face. „Y/n? What is wrong?“ hyunjins voice trembled slightly.that onl made me more scared and i started sobbing. „Y/n,do you need something?i..i don‘t know how to help you..“

 „it..it feels so overwhelming“i mumbled between sobs. Hyunjin looked at me,worried but confused.he got up and went out of the bathroom.after a few minutes he was back.he had a bottle of water and his phone with him. „Here drink a little sip from this,and i will call your mom now okay?“ „No! Please…i don‘t wanna ruin her vacation.“ hyunjin looked at me dumbfounded,but he put his phone down.when another wave of dizzines came over me i whimpered and leaned to the cold tiles with closed eyes. „Woah,y/n don‘t faint!you can‘t faint!“ hyunjins voice sounded panicked now.he came closer to my side,and laid a hand on my shoulder. Somehow his touch felt comforting.when my head rolled to the side a bit,he quickly came nearer and now he laid a hand around my waist,to steady me.i leaned into his touch. „Hey,don‘t faint okay? My mom would kill me if i would let you faint in a bathroom.just…lean onto me okay?i laid my head down on his shoulders.i sensed him blushing but i din‘t say anything.after a few moments in silence i suddenly asked:“hyunjin?why do we hate each other so much?“ he looked surprised. „To be honest y/n…i don‘t know…it just always was like this.“ i thought about his words for a moment.he was right.there wasn‘t one day,even when we were children were we didn‘t fight or annoy each other. „But..can we maybe have a new start?like everything from the past is forgotten,and everything that matters is from now on?“ he glanced at me.i didn‘t know what look that was that i saw in his eyes. „Y/n…you are sick right now,you don‘t mean that.i know you hate me“he stared at the wall,his grip on my waist tightening. „But..would‘t you want that too hyunjin? We just hate each other because we alwaysd did but we changed.you are a pretty nice guy to be honest“ he tried to hide it but i saw his small smile. „We could be best friends too like our moms.“ i continued. He looked to the side. Why refused he to look into my eyes?“Hyunjin?“ he sighed. „Y/n you are right.we hate each other because we always did but….you know,you probably don‘t remember that day but we were fourteen years old.i was out alone,i just went for a walk.then some kids started beating me up because at school i was always one of the best and they were jealous or some shit.but then you walked by…you saw that those children said shit to me,and that they punched me.and you beat those kids up.they were literally scared of you.they never did anything to me again.you know..from that day on i saw that you aren‘t even that bad.you are kinda cool.you always were.i was jealous of you sometimes to be honest.you also always were withe the popular kids.you were one of the popular kids.but from that day on i started seeing you different.i didn‘t see you as the annoying daughter from my moms friend anymore you were…that one girl.i think…since then i have a little crush on you.woah i finally confessed.i never thouht i would confess on a bathroom floor after you threw up.“ he nervoously chuckled. 

My jaw almost hit the floor. „Hyunjin you what?? you…have a crush on me? I always thought you hate me even mroe than i hate you.because…i also always knew that you were..kinda cool. To be honest i always told everyone that we were friends in sithx grade because at the new school everyone had a crush on you,and i only was puplar because everyone thought i was friends with you“ i blushed.we both just sat there in silence,my head on hyunjins shoulder.when the pain in my head came back i winced a bit. „Oh right,maybe you shoulg to back to bed“ he mumbled. I nodded and stood up.that wasn‘t the best decicsion because i fell right back to the floor. „y/n! Are you okay?“i nodded again.i wasn‘t prepared when suddenly hyunjin lifter me up like i was a feather. „what are you doing?!“ i almost screamed,with my hand around his neck.one of his arms were under my knees and one on my back. „You can‘t even stand so i‘m not letting you walk.“ he said.i hoped he wouldn‘t see the smile on my face. I hid my face in his t shirt,but after a short time he gently laid me on the bed. „You should try to sleep,but first take this here“ he handed me a pill.I swallowed it with a few sips of water.Then he went to his own side and laid down too. A few minutes passed and i almost was asleep again when suddenly i heard hyunjins voice in the dark again. „ do you mind if we…take the pillows away?“he asked.i never heard him talking so shyly.i responded with a small no and took the pillows away. Now we were facing each other.i couldn‘t help but smile.only the pale moonlight brought a little light into the room.i sensed him moving a bit closer.i almost forgot the dizzines now.we were so close now that i felt his warm breath in my face. „Hyunjin?“

„Yeah?“ 

„Can we start again? The beginning is now,and we forget most things of the past.“

„Yeah let‘s start again“

I smiled and moved even closer to him.he wasn‘t prepared when i nuzzled into his shirt.

„From now on okay?“

 He hid his face in my hair.

„From now on“

A/n: why is this so short and boring.

[fancyfeathers]

lol it'd be funnier if author!darling ACTUALLY disappears for a few days after marrying william. like the whole incident lol. also i can always see him wanting her to put more romance in her books. she'll probably relent, making messed up lovers who don't end up together out of spite. what i'm thinking is in "and then there were none" darling would be writing, dropping clues, hoping a certain someone (*cough* sherlock *cough*) would be able to piece things together soon

(Again for some reason @istgtumlrifyoudothisonemoretime your question is not showing up in my inbox, huh)

(Anyway a continuation of William with an author!darling)

But I have an idea with these…

During the engagement she writes two books, both with hidden clues within them for hopefully Sherlock to find. One of them is similar to the story of Veronica and JD from Heathers, which if you don’t know is kinda like Bonnie and Clyde but Veronica is almost forced into killing these people with him. So the first book is trying to tell of her current situation, forced into all of this and people are dying because of this. Since Heathers is set in an 80s high school, it would change to England high society, the aristocracy, to hint at what the Lord of Crime is doing. Then Veronica’s faking of ending herself would not be fake, she actually does it, hitting at what she would do if she cannot get out of there. But in the epilogue she would have a detective finding her body in an investigation, the detective’s name being an anagram for the name of Sherlock Holmes, perhaps something like Mr Celle Oshkosh, but not abbreviating Mr to hint at the fact that it is an anagram for the detective to find.

The second book would be very similar to And Then There Were None, but a few details would change. The dolls would be replaced with books, books with titles of her books which would point to the murders that happen in the real world, the ones that are based on her books. Then the judge/killer would be replaced with a professor to hint at it being William.

Now some of these hints William would pick up on, namely the ending of oneself in the the first book but not the hint in the epilogue, then the second book would have nothing William would not pick up on, after all it’s about him. He’s not upset about it actually, he’s almost flattered even, to be portrayed in on of her masterpieces, one of the best of her works. He would wait to read it until it has gone through her editor and gets published, reading it with a smile on his face and he would buy two copies, one of them for his shelves and the other to mark up and to make notes of the clues within.

But that aside, her intentions do not go forgiven, especially the last one in the first of her works.

So with that said he keeps her under constant watch and Louis takes the initiative to practically baby proof the house. When she has to be left alone she is kept in her room, not even able to write because of the fear she would stab herself with the pen or pencil.

But that was not her plan, at least not the killing herself fault…

Her plan to get them thinking that she is wanting to die before the wedding and once the wedding comes and she shares a room with William that the threat of her death is gone.

After the honeymoon is when her actual plan is sent into motion. William is off on a mission with most of the others but Louis and she had formed a bit of a friendship with her brother in law, but not without her own motivation. When they were at the market, she snags a few flowers, daffodils, flowers that seem harmless but if ingested can cause nausea, vomiting, and can even knock someone unconscious.

In the evening the two having tea after dinner and Louis’ mistake is letting her brew the tea because then he didn’t notice is her slipping the flower within. Within the hour Louis is sick, and slipping into unconsciousness, hot able to stop her as she snags the keys off of him…

When the others return in the morning they find Louis unconscious on the drawing room floor and front door locked, just to catch them off guard. They search for her but to no avail, no one has seen her, not even Scotland Yard or the neighbors have spotted her.

She has disappeared.

William goes back to her books, looking for clues and then he finally pays attention to the epilogue, the detective’s name is an anagram.

By this, she is already sitting in the drawing room of 221B Baker Street, watching the detective finally piece together the clues she left within her books.

[lucyandherlunacy]

before i start episode 5 of minecraft story mode i thought i'd put my serious first impressions of the "wither storm arc" here

first the positives: surprisingly, i find it really entertaining how everyone talks. the little pg curse words forced into every conversation, like 'crap' and 'hell' etc.? absolute time capsule. it works for me because i can 100% believe that these are people who live in a minecraft server in the 2010s. the wither storm was an excellent threat for the first 4 episodes. genuinely one of the best monster-villains i've seen in a video game. the conflict surrounding its creation and how it spiralled out of hand mean that it can motivate meaningful character tension despite being a monster, and the way it works is honestly really cool. a regenerating, nigh-unkillable mass of destruction that drags everything around it to its death and only multiplies once it's seemingly dead for good? plus the wither sickness and amnesia it spreads and the fate of the people who get absorbed into it? love it. genuinely threatening and spooky the arc had me invested to the point that i wasn't willing to really make any kind of 'evil/mean for the hell of it' decisions in my playthrough. it felt really nice playing jesse as someone who is just earnestly a nice and caring person who tries her best and keeps her gang together. it helps that the voice actress playing femjesse sounds absolutely heavenly she killed it in this role honestly i liked jesse's character a lot more than i expected too! their inexperienced and kinda bumbling yet optimistic outlook compared to say, the kind of stoic hardened adventurer you see in petra was really fun. combined with me missing a qte or two on occasion i definitely bought into jesse as this unlikely hero that came from nothing soren, ivor, lukas and olivia were the standout characters to me in that order. idk what else to really say they're great. i liked the rest of the cast well enough even if i thought some of them were slightly underdeveloped or just didn't appeal to me personally, the former of which i'll get into in the next section. reuben the pig i can't really speak on since i have a personal bad experience with his name that made me wince every time it was said. he was cute i guess ----------------------------------------------------------------- a few criticisms: i did redstonia, and idk if this an issue unique to that area but i found it to be too short. i just kept thinking there would be more to this society or at least more buildup to meeting ellegaard. most of what you see is just people's attempts to win her favor. i especially would've liked to see more of it since it ends up getting destroyed there was only really one time that the character drama felt forced to me, and that was the start of episode 3 where lukas tries to pull the amulet off you and petra scolds you for not saving axel and reuben. it was all uphill from there but that was the only moment i really was like "yeah this is shoehorned lol" mobs are handled kind of weirdly in this game. it's a nitpick at best and not something super serious but i guess it's weird to see zombies and skeletons just kind of being treated as a given in a populous world of various humans. i dunno, i just felt that not taking advantage of the fact that half the generic monsters are the undead or even really mentioning it was a weird move i kind of wish we just had one more episode in this arc. certain moments like ellegaard's death didn't hit as hard as they should have just because i hadn't spent enough time with her to get attached. and generally i think characters like axel and petra could've done with just a little more time in the spotlight for their characters to grow. i think they needed the kind of treatment olivia got in her moment with jesse in the farlands. even having done redstonia over axel's path it really wasn't long enough to add to her character the way that moment did for me ------------------------------------------------------------------ regardless, i genuinely really liked my experience with this game despite all the silly moments. if anything they enhance the experience for me and i can't wait to play more :)

[rantaroamamifuturegf]

Kaito with a f!s/o who's kinda like his mirror? (i.e. hyperfeminine instead of super masculine, is fairly good at reading people's motives and tries to help them improve themselves, etc.)

A/N: I feel like I did really bad on this idk why Thanks for requesting, I tried my best on this one since I'm getting used to writing for Kaito more, I hope you enjoy sorry if it's short!! spelling errors ofc

Plot: Kaito dating a f!Reader who's like the female vision of him and is hyperfeminine(Some may characterized it as girly girl) instead of masculine.

!!Female Reader!!

Character(s) being used: Kaito Momota

Isn't surprised that you and Tenko get along really well lol Tenko is surprised that you'll go for him

Bro is in love, like I swear every time you start being motivational he HAS to join in like you're a god sent just for him

Would ask you to join him and Shuichi and Maki during workouts even if you say no, he'll ask you just to be there because he wants you around

He thinks it's cute every time you try to give Himiko the energy to get up and actual do something even if she brushes you off. He find your taste in clothing is cute as well

Of course you can be a bit sensitive at times like during a class trial you say something wrong, Miu is quick to be vulgar on you. He'll quickly step in and defend you and tell Miu to shut up even if he starts getting talked down

He tend to rely on you at times and sees you as someone who he can be dependent on so during investigate time he's always following either you or Shuichi, Most of the time it's you

There's time where you both get suspicious of the same person and will talk it out with each other, Kaito will sometimes act without thinking and call the person out on their strange behavior despite you telling Kaito you guys should talk it out with Shuichi and Maki first before jumping to conclusions

Loving how caring you are like oml, he finds it so cute when lecture him sometimes about how he loses time to sleep because he's working out

He gets annoyed at times when you and him are supposed to hanging out but Tenko will come out of nowhere and steal you away but he doesn't mind bro just wants his girl back

When Shuichi is in a sorta depressing mood Kaito will cheer him up and he'll even ask you to help out well even if you're more better at cheering up girls than guys he'll still ask lol

Likes to do pda with you, even in a killing game bro still wants to love his girl. He'll hug you out of nowhere sometimes and would always either hold your hand or have his arm around you. Hates it if someone calls him out on it or makes fun of him for it

He doesn't mind kissing but he won't do it a lot in public, like he would love to show you off and kiss you because confidence boast but then again he doesn't want to seem too vulnerable in public.

Overall it's one of those sweet relationships tbh lol

Hope you enjoy - Manji

[please-someone-give-me-love]

Ironically, One piece fandom lack a lot of the concepts of grey characters and I said ironically, because almost every single character is pretty much in a grey area. I mean, the show is about pirates, obviously they are not going to be saints but sometimes people like to pick which character is good and which character is bad based on "which side are they" if they are with Luffy's side or against him but let's think about it.

Robin and Franky were once again Luffy.

Garp has mixed his own morality towards his work and his grandson.

Ace tried to killed Luffy at first met.

Nami basically sold him to Buggy at her benefitat first met.

But all of these characters are more than that, Robin, Franky and Nami, all of them haad dofferent motivations and situations on which they were against him first, Ace had a really complicated relation to himself in which affected his interaction with people at first estance and Garp is a complex character in which duty has occupied his head but his heart dictate another thing.

Now, isn't simplifying calling a character "good" for being in Luffy's side?

Law or Kidd are not ensentially good or at least Kidd is not a really good person(he hurted innocent civillians back then and that's why he had a bigger number on his wanted poster)

Yet, both of them were Luffy's friends, Katakuri is not a rrally good person neither but he kinda be friend Luffy during his battle and let him go.

Now, Vegapunk is not a good person or an evil person as much as he is Luffy's side, but that doesn't take away of all of his morally grey perspective.

And even Luffy himself is not a completely good person, he has done things that are really questionable just because his own wishes, he let a bunch of dangerous criminals run away just because he wanted to save his brother, inccluding the one who tried to invade his friend's country.

And you know what? If Luffy was portrayed as someone completely good, he wouldn't be able to do that because it would result on him being a hypocrite, but he has never tried to be a heroe or be a "good" pirate(one of my criticism of the live action lol) and I think that's what make Luffy be so appreciated.

Because Luffy is someone kind by nature but also someone really selfish who is pretty aware of it.