#fic: about time scars and the brightest stars

[pretentiouswreckingball]

saturday snippet! 🌙

ty for the tag @fruityindividual can’t wait to see those two yearning for each other again <3

“First impressions, Mr Lupin?”

Remus takes a moment to think about it, “I still don’t know how to use the tube,” He admits, and then, he scrunches his nose, “And everything smells funny,”

The old man laughs, big and rich.

“Oh, Mr Lupin, please never change, I find you so refreshing,” The skin around his eyes crinkle when he smiles at Remus, “I apologise for not being specific, what I meant is, what are your first impressions about the school?”

“Oh,” Remus’ cheeks feel very warm all of the sudden. “It’s, eh, big, long wide halls, very useful and seems quite old, actually I think I saw mol—” His eyes widen when he looks at the Professor who seems to be having a grand time waiting to see where Remus’ rambling is going to take him, “—but it’s very nice, so many details, can’t wait to work here!”

Yeah, nice save Remus, he will totally keep you now that you insulted his school.

no pressure tags: @static-radio-ao3 @frank-lilac @velanavis @ecstarry @residentrookie @inevitablestars @whorerific dunno if you’re working on anything rn but if you want to share :•>

[bloatedandalone04]

When Faced with Darkness

➪the one where you and anakin reunite years after he turned to the dark side.

Warnings: angst, that’s really it, anakin being manipulative, just a short fic because i was feeling inspired to write something like this

Word Count: 1.2k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ Thank you for 3.3k follwers MWAH

“Call out to me,” you hear his unmistakable voice say again. You glanced around at your surroundings, finding nothing but the emptiness of your old room at the temple. Your old shared room, the one you hid away in with Anakin. That room had long since been destroyed, so you couldn’t quite figure out how you were back in it, or question where all the furniture went before he spoke again. “Let me in. Call out to me, angel.”

Angel.

Your heart faltered at the name and you peered out into the darkness, seeing nothing at all, but feeling that he was close by. Anakin. “Come to me,” you requested in a quiet voice, his presence growing stronger with each passing second. “Come find me.” 

Though your words were faint, they echoed around the room and called back to you as a tall figure emerged from the shadows a few steps away. “I’ve found you,” he spoke and you turned around quickly, your eyes meeting his almost immediately. 

His voice was a mix of himself and someone else, but his appearance was exactly what you remembered it looking like. The scar on his cheek, the flow of his hair, his teasing smirk, everything. “Anakin,” you murmured, a grin breaking out on your lips as he inched closer, his head tilted as he, too, observed you. “Is it…is it really you?”

He stepped towards you, a hum bubbling in the back of his throat as he held his hands behind his back. “Who else would it be?” He teased in his soft yet enticing voice.

It never failed to draw you into him. 

Maybe that is why you were here now, because you weren’t as strong as you needed to be. Not when it came to him. 

It looked like him, sounded like him, even felt like him, but Anakin is gone. He’s been gone for a long time now, and what replaced him was a darkness that even the brightest star couldn’t shine through. 

Still, you couldn’t help but let yourself fall into a state of denial, wishing that this was real, that he was back and was as desperate for you as you were for him. It wasn’t hard, seeing as he looked the exact same as before, just more stoic. More dark and intimidating than he had ever appeared in all the years you’d known him. 

“I’m not sure,” you answered honestly, watching as he walked around you in slow circles, his eyes raking up and down your form as if he was trying to remember how you looked under your gown and robe. “I’m not sure what’s real anymore.”

Anakin stopped in front of you, his smirk fading into a teasing smile as his gloved hand reached for your wrist. “Look around you,” he softly ordered, watching as you obeyed him without any hesitation. You were still his obedient, sweet girl. “This is our room, isn’t it? The one we shared together.”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head quickly. The room was the same, but it was just empty, so void of love and care and secrecy. You couldn’t bear to think about the last time you were in this room, back when you were at your happiest and had everything to look forward to. 

Back when Anakin was still here and hadn’t given himself up. When he didn’t let himself slip further and further to a one way destination. 

But he was here, right in front of you and giving you the same look he always did when you weren’t feeling like yourself and needed comfort. It was the same look, but it wasn’t him. 

You hadn’t even noticed that piece by piece, the furniture began to fill the room, mirroring the way it looked before. 

Your head felt like it was spinning, but Anakin’s grip on you tightened to ensure you wouldn’t fall. “Now look at me,” he quietly demanded. “Look at me.”

“It’s not real,” you admitted to yourself, despite your heart screaming at you, begging you to give in and let him do whatever he wanted to you. This was better than not having him at all. “It’s not…”

But he hushed you, “Y/n,” he spoke sternly, that same, much deeper voice from before creeping back in alongside his own. You hadn’t heard him say your name in so long, you had almost forgotten what it sounded like. “Look. Look at me.”

You always were weak when it came to him. Lifting your head, you meet his eyes, briefly glancing into the ones of a sith before you let yourself drown in the orbs of blue. Releasing a long sigh of relief, you let your tense body relax under his gaze, rendering yourself to him almost completely. 

“Good. That’s good,” he praised, keeping his hand wrapped around your wrist as he moved it upwards. Placing your palm flat against the left side of his chest, his burning gaze never faltered as he pressed himself against your hand. “Feel me. Feel that I am here, with you, in our own room.”

Your head told you to pull away and run for the nearest exit, but you couldn’t see anything past all the shadows. All you could see is the apparition of your lover, who you lost ages ago. “Anakin,”

“Feels right, doesn’t it?” He asked, a small, barely there hint of mockery in his tone as he removed his hand from around your wrist and allowed you to keep your own pressed against his heart. “Feels just like before.”

You stifle a surprised cry, looking up at him with watery eyes. “Why are you here? Why now?” 

His expression softened, but it was just an act. A way to tear your walls down and rip apart the growth and healing you’ve endured since losing him. You should, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away. You can’t bring yourself to not give in to him.  “Because you needed me,” he answered simply. “Because you still need me.”

You shake your head but don’t pull away when he places his hands on your hips. The coolness of his glove sends a shiver up your spine, a repressed groan of longing slipping past your lips. 

“And I still need you,” he added, daring to step closer to you and successfully invading your space. He made it his own as he reached his left hand up to caress the side of your face. “We’re one in the same, angel. We always have been.”

A shaky sigh leaves your mouth before he is covering it with his own. His lips envelop yours softly at first, but the gentle kiss grows stronger, a certain sinister feeling slipping from him to you, but you don’t pull away. 

You grip his shoulder and cry a call of his name when he breaks the kiss. “Anakin,”

He grins down at you, a wicked and twisted sight right before your very eyes. “I know,” he consoles, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead and gripping the sides of your face much tighter than before, but it only leaves you wanting more. 

How unfortunate of you to be so weak when faced with the embodiment of true darkness. 

“I know,” he repeats his words, sliding his hands down so they’re pressing against the base of your throat. “Now, give in to me.”

[danikamariewrites]

Okay okay okay, so errr I have like maybe a couple things but I'm not throwing everything with the expectation that you write all of them!!!

First maybe Azriel taking fem reader to a starfall ball. Bonus points if A already knows B is their mate, and they're waiting for A to find out

Okay okay now for Xaddy Xaden. WHAT ABOUT Xaden Riorson smut maybe? Idk I don't have a plot I just kinda want him

THANK YOU SO MUCH

Diamonds and Pearls

Azriel x f!Reader

A/n: I think this is my favorite fic I’ve written so far. I almost started crying writing this tbh. I went with Az bc I’m in a fluffy mood this evening but Xaden smut is coming I swear😉

Warnings: disgustingly fluffy

Azriel was surprised by how bold he had been in asking you to go to the annual Starfall ball with him. He didn’t want to dance around his feelings for you anymore, he had to tell you the truth. And tonight was the perfect night. Azriel never considered himself a romantic male, but that was changing tonight.

The reason for Azriel’s boldness was thanks to the mating bond. The bond had snapped for him exactly three weeks ago at breakfast. It was nothing special, just you, him, Cassian, and Nesta sitting at the table when it hit him. Feeling that golden thread come to life in his chest, being able to feel your calm heartbeat was the best thing that has ever happened to him.

For the first time in his life Azriel felt pure joy. He felt like everything was perfectly aligned. He was already head over heels in love with you and the mating bond just solidified that you were the one for him. You had known each other for centuries, and have been seeing each other romantically for a few months now. He was ready to take your relationship to the next step.

But would you want this with him? To be tied to him forever? He didn’t stop to think about that during his weeks of planning the perfect night to tell you. No, he couldn’t let his mind wander, he was too happy. He realized in his worrying his shadows were swirling around him and the hallway. Azriel called the rogue shadows back to him, he didn’t want to scare you when you came out of your room.

Just as your door opens the last shadow flys back to him. Of course the one shadow that was fond of you was last to come back to Azriel.

As soon as Azriel laid eyes on you he was speechless. You looked like the brightest star that would grace the sky this evening. Your dress was a beautiful light blue, made up of diamonds and pearls strung along the bodice. Your leg peeking out of the slit in your flowing silk skirt that had a layer of shimmering fabric that reflected in the light. Your silver heels clacking on the tiled floors as you made your way towards the shadowsinger.

“Wow.” He breathed out. You spun causing the dress to flare out, it practically glowed, just like you Azriel thought. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” Azriel suddenly felt guilty for wearing just a simple all black outfit on such a special night. A blush dusted his cheeks, “Thank you.” He holds out the box he’s been clutching for 2 hours, afraid he’d lose the gift he bought you. “I got you something for tonight.”

“Oh, Az, you didn’t have to get me anything.” You took the box from his hands, slipping one into his hands, smirking. “Very slick.” You giggle.

“You open yours first, and I promise I did not go to Mor for gift advice.” Azriel laughed, opening the box. His eyes went wide, he couldn’t believe you had given him something so beautiful. In the box was a silver signet ring with his wings and Mount Ramiel with the stars above it. “Y/n…this is incredible. Thank you.” He smiles down at you, his heart soaring at your kindness. “Your turn,” he slips the ring on his index finger, flexing his scarred fingers at the new feeling.

You open the skinny box to a gleaming diamond and sapphire bracelet. “Azriel! This is absolutely gorgeous. Thank you.” He takes the delicate chain out of the box, “Allow me.” You smile at him as he clasps the bracelet on your wrist. He brings your hand up to his mouth leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles.

He drops your hand, offering you his arm, “Shall we?” You interlock your arm with his and he whisks you away to the party. To the future he has planned for you, hopefully.

…

The stars are about to fall and Azriel had stolen you away from the Inner Circle to watch them on a private balcony. You were very excited to watch the stars with just Azriel. You planned to tell him that you loved him tonight, something you haven’t said to each other yet.

Lost in your thoughts about the beautiful shadowsinger, staring up at the stars he sneaks up behind you, tapping you on the shoulder. Startled, you turn towards his smiling face as he holds out a glass of wine for you, “What are sneaking up on me for!” Chuckling at your reaction he pulls you into his side, wrapping a wing around you, “Sorry darling, force of habit.”

You sip from the glass as the stars start to fall, watching in awe. The stars only hold Azriel’s attention briefly, more interested in watching you glow under their flashing light. Mother above you are beautiful, and he’s thanking her, like he has everyday since the bond snapped, that you’re in his life.

After a few more minutes of watching the stars you feel Azriel’s eyes on you. You turn, shifting a little away from him and smile. “I’m very happy I get to spend Starfall with you Az.”

“I am too y/n.” He swallows, now’s the time to tell you. He’s not backing out now. “I have something to tell you.” You say in unison. Laughing at your synchronization, you take Azriel’s hands in yours, swiping your thumb over the new signet ring reflecting all the blues and purples from the stars. “You go first.”

Azriel can feel his hands clamming up, it’s now or never. He’s just going to come right out and say it, even if it comes out sounding foolish. “A few weeks ago, at breakfast the mating bond snapped for me, for you. I could feel your heartbeat and happiness as you laughed at Nesta’s joke. And I swear in that moment I fell in love with you all over again. I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to tell you. I understand if you don’t want this because honestly I don’t deserve you y/n or the love you give me. But I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Tears were falling from your eyes. You couldn’t believe what Azriel was saying. You wanted this so badly from the day you first met. All you wanted was his love, but this was even better. You had dreamed about finding your mate ever since your mother told you about the concept when you were a little girl. Now yours is standing right in front of you confessing his love for you!

“Yes Azriel,” nodding vigorously, sending more tears flying down your cheeks. “I love you and you’re all I’ve ever wanted. I’m so lucky to have you as my mate, I couldn’t ask for anyone better.” Tears were now falling down his face. He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you flush against him, kissing you heatedly.

In that moment the bond came to life in your chest. Glowing bright, connecting the two of you forever.

tags: @msiecrane @auggiesolovey

[hwaightme]

Bang bang

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR STAR'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

⚫ pairing: gangster/mafia!seonghwa x stripper/afab!reader ⚫ genre: smut, mafia!au, noir, ganster film style, bits of angst ⚫ summary: Bang bang, he shot me down / Bang bang, I hit the ground / Bang bang, that awful sound / Bang bang, my baby shot me down... the words never sounded truer as you hunt for the man who made you fall from grace. ⚫ wordcount: 14.6k ⚫ warnings/tags: barely edited (written in a chaotic flurry), gangsters, murder, guns, blood, attacking, language, strip club, slight objectification, rudeness, bickering and arguing, emotional manipulation, revenge, death [of a side oc], yandere themes, obsessive behaviour, alcohol, money, seonghwa driving expensive cars, betrayal mention... lmk if anything else. ⚫ perma-taglist: @legohwas @doom-fics @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @hoshischeekss @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 ⚫ a/n: HAPPY SEONGHWA DAY!!!! May our brightest star be blessed with everything and more <3 (and never venture into what this fic contains lol); much love and appreciation to nora for going unchained over mafia hwa, and for supporting me through the blackout that was the writing process for this fic. Much love, all reblogs, comments, thoughts welcome~

⚫ nsfw tags: hate sex, car sex, fingering (receiving), sub-leaning reader but a hardcore brat, dom-leaning seonghwa but he enjoys the degradation, degradation (whore, slut, cock slut...), pet names and praises (doll, precious angel, darling, baby, sweetheart), a bit of impact play (slapping), orgasm denial, doggy style, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), blowjob, deepthroating, hair tugging/yanking, manhandling, grinding, spit play, come in mouth/swallowing... whew

⚫ playlist: bang bang (from kill bill) by geek music, showed me (how i fell in love with you) by madison beer, you put a spell on me by austin giorgio, i've got to see you again by norah jones, who do you want by ex habit, woman by emmit fenn, bad drugs by king kavalier, often by the weeknd, chills (dark version) by mickey valen

Bang bang… he shot me down…

You had given up on seeing him again. Searching for him, hellbent on getting the last word. You had been confident that finally, after all this time, your tortured soul could get some rest. That was until your eyes locked with his in a silent duel, that shit-eating grin on his face growing wider as he studied the wounds he had left behind. The invisible scars that were the start of your metamorphosis.

It was not that you had never imagined meeting the fiendish man again – in fact, you swore that it was your only relief: to fantasise about what you would do if you were to physically cross paths somewhere in this forlorn city, and many nights you would wake up in cold sweat after hearing the intoxicating low-toned laughter resonate in your skull. He haunted you and you knew that he was watching your every move like a sadistic predator. As such, the only thing that had driven you out of your madness, the flimsy umbrella that you clung onto amidst your fall from the life you had built and hoped to have, was to wish that one day, you could do the same. And seeing him right there, in front of you, in his tailored suit and jewellery bathed in blood as the spotlights made him look like the devil himself, the notion of hoping returned.

When a strobe light flashed across his faced you saw him lean and whisper something into the ear of one of his goons, evidently excited to having spotted you. After the ever so slightly shorter, but impressively built, undoubtedly a dark-souled man armed to the teeth, surely his bodyguard, nodded a couple of times, and in turn called over one of the waiters to continue the chain only for the latter to shrink and rush off into the backrooms, your nightmare ambled towards the bar. With a quick unbuttoning of his suit jacket, he settled in one of the stools and spun around to face the stage. To face you. Subject you to a mocking scrutiny while you had no choice but to continue dancing.

As he mindlessly took a black card out of his pocket and passed it to the bartender, without sparing a glance behind him, the object pinched between his pointer and middle fingers, you were in your lonesome on the stage, fighting an uphill battle for every coin and paper bill. Spinning in circles like an animal trapped in a cage, clinging to the pole as though it was a thread connecting you to existence itself, even though experience had shown you that in this, you were skilled only in going down. That man who made living seem easy, despite, or perhaps thanks to the darkness from which he was undoubtedly spawned. Your first love, your first heartbreak, your first glimpse into how the world could chew you up and spit you out – life that was a forbidden fruit so beautiful, so tantalising to where through atrocious flavour and agony one would bite through to the rotten centre and willingly lose their senses to keep a piece to themselves.

His eyes tirelessly accompanied your every move as you went through your routine. Grinding against the pole, crawling across the stage as onlookers and perverts – those who you had to call revered guests because they could spend, and spend a lot, ogled you and yelled heinous remarks, you had not felt so humiliated in a long time. The transition to your present career had been a follow up to a series of events that had shut all other doors – you considered yourself lucky that you had even had the chance to catch yourself on these professional branches during your painful descent. And you had to admit, it did pay well. In a couple of months, after you had definitely breached all work hour regulations, you had managed to pay off your fines and numb yourself to your revoked medical licence. Things were looking up, like the heels you wore. Not quite sky-high, but nevertheless, not in the sewers. But now that being sat at the bar, devouring you with his smouldering gaze and using you for cheap amusement, made you feel filthy. With his pristine, clean, supreme ‘I am above you all’ aura, he might as well state that he owned you. Maybe, in a way, he did. Since his ‘company’, or as one would say ‘bunch of organised hoodlums in suits’ behind closed doors, owned this club among many others dotted around the metropolis.

You climbed up, approaching the finale of your performance. Soon you would be able to leave that creature’s gaze and hide in the rank bathrooms until the coast was clear. Even if that meant you had to abandon the bills. Or no, no you would have the time. You had rent to pay, what were you thinking? And you still needed to return the money you borrowed for the funeral, despite you being told that your now ex could be left to rot just fine. The act was more for you anyways – you wanted to prove to yourself that you still knew honour and tradition, regardless of how far you had been swept up by the unforgiving currents of the underworld. So now, to pay for your illusion of honour, you put on a show and flaunted what you had, fuelled by an undercurrent of indescribable disgust.

To the numbing bassline and an addictive beat you went higher and higher, letting the sensuality envelop you once more. If the months that stacked themselves like cash had taught you anything, this passage of time that you had spent nomadic, performing in one club, another, until you ended up in the one where you were now centre stage, it was that professionalism came first. You were surprised to find out just how many of your academic and practical skills had actually been put to good use – well, maybe not things like knowing components of the limbic system but having a steady hand and being able to manoeuvre out of uncomfortable situations in a cool and calculated manner certainly did their wonders. As you performed a high kick hold, and let your toes discreetly push off the ground for more momentum, you were already thinking a couple of steps ahead. The fairy, the floaters transition, you mentally listed and promptly ticked off the items, going from one move to another. It was nothing more than an elaborate ploy to convince those ogling you, some even unceremoniously palming themselves through their trousers, to give you their ‘hard earned cash’. Though, you never wanted to know where exactly that cash came from. It was not your problem, and you were quick enough to realise that it was better to keep your mouth shut and ask less questions. What these men wanted to see was a pretty doll spinning on a pole as if just for them, a fantasy just a couple of steps away from them. Not some amateur interrogator. 

His figure burned into your retinas as you amplified your dramatics, and stole the night for yourself with flair, flipping yourself upside down, only to recover and descend into your final pose. Due to the sweat and the light body highlighter that you had applied to make your features pop, you were an impossibly entrancing vision. A deity of the underworld that just so happened to find it entertaining to grace the local scum with her presence. 

The handsome black-haired man, an enticing, lethal ‘bella donna’ flower continued watching the forbidden apple of his eye. He had finally gotten you within his reach after so many months of playing cat and mouse. You were unbelievably easy to track, never having attempted to hide yourself, but for him to restrain himself for so long and not hunt you down at first opportunity was borderline torturous. Park Seonghwa was never one to wait. If he wanted something, or someone, he got it instantly, handed to him on a platinum platter. But your hatred was like an addictive scent that brought him to an unprecedented high. Each time he had news delivered of you discreetly asking after him at a club, or you trying to frequent an area where he had been spotted, evidently on a mission to do exactly what he was doing to you, it brought Seonghwa an excitement that shook him to the core.

But now that you were here, in his lair, his first club that he had opened, still a junior in the business at the time and coincidentally, still having been in what could be called a relationship with you, he could not resist. His mind had been screaming Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, every hour of the day, and his primal desires grew stronger than ever before. As he inspected the way in which you bent down to take bills from eager hands, coy and purposefully demure so as to attract even more tips, sinful musings clouded him. He could not ignore the curve of your back as you tapped another fowl man’s chin and took what was definitely over his budget right out of his beggarly hands. Seonghwa was tense as he focused on the white dancewear that adorned your body, elegant lace providing a dizzying contrast to the lewd scene as you let another imp paw at your ass as he hooked the waistband of your thong to leave more crisp notes.

The act of a sensational seductress, you practically glided off the stage, the platform heels doing little to diminish your resolve. You were even better than what he could have ever imagined from the stories that his closest allies and bodyguards had relayed to him. And while, San, the man who he had entrusted with observing you particularly closely once news had gotten around that you joined Club Estelle, had expressed your resounding success and renowned desirability on a number of occasions, now that Seonghwa had seen it he was nothing but proud. His masterpiece, his project, his precious little cherub was doing so well. All for him. How could he not grace you with his presence after seeing such a show?

You knew there was no way of escaping the monster, even if you had the ability to turn invisible, so you were not too surprised when you had found the man who had been next to him for the duration of the performance standing in front of you. What you were taken aback by, was how in just a flash, the man’s intimidating aura dissipated to reveal a charming, heart melting smile and twinkling eyes.

“Miss L/N Y/N?” voice equally as sweet, he inquired. Though you had no doubt that his was just airs preceding the request for you to accompany him to his boss.

“Yes. And you are?” remaining amiable, albeit distant, you responded, crossing your arms in a subconsciously protective manner.

“Merely delivering the request for your audience with my chief.”

You motioned for him to accompany you to the back, signalling that you needed to store the cash before any further discussions were made. The sweetheart obliged, and let you take the lead. In your peripherals, you spotted Seonghwa gripping his drink a little too tightly to be indifferent. As questionably possessive as ever, it seemed. Once you and the muscular bodyguard who you discovered was wearing a double holder were behind the curtain that served as a door to a dark corridor, you continued the conversation.

“A request or an order?” 

Absent-mindedly, you checked the quantity of the bills which you had collected - the rest were already waiting for you in the room, courtesy of the waitstaff whom you had actually managed to make something of a deal with: you did not tell anyone about their habit of permanently borrowing beverages from the bar, and they did small errands for you. Maybe this man with cat-like features was in a similar agreement with Seonghwa, though the likelihood of there being blood involved was too high.

“A request that I would definitely advise you to follow.” he insisted, holding open the door to the changing room as you inspected the bucket that had been left for you in the corner, with neatly collected, crisp notes. Your favourite sight as of late.

“If you answer my question.” you threw out while organising the money inside of a sports bag - the storage of your professional life. Once you were done, you shoved the item into your personal locker, sealing it shut and spinning around to face the man again as he beckoned you.

“Kindly, follow me, Miss.”

“Who am I following?” you repeated, desperately curious to know of this man’s identity. Nevertheless, your feet carried you forward, and you yielded to his summons, heading back out into the club.

“Mister Park Seonghwa’s man.”

“Ooh, his man…”

“Right hand man.” he elaborated, making you roll your eyes.

“So no name to pair with such a handsome face?”

The answers were almost automatic. It was not foreign to you to flirt with strangers, since that way you amplified your chances of financial success, but never before did you catch yourself being so passive, even when the intonations were well practised and near identical to what you would normally say. But there was no one, nor nothing, to blame except the hardwired response to the nearing figure of a very specific gangster, on whom your gaze immediately settled as soon as you reached the edge of the prolonged bar counter.

“I believe that Mister Park would not enjoy hearing such words from you.” of course he would not. When did he ever enjoy you complimenting anyone else except him? San steeled himself as he lowered his head, while you let the fingers of your right hand flitter over the counter as you sauntered over to the man who could not even be bothered to approach you himself, despite having evaporated from your life for an unbearable collection of months.

“Then he would not have sent you to fetch me. He should know that I appreciate beauty-” you were testing your luck, uttering the words when within the gangster’s earshot. Thankfully for San, he chose to take the matter into his own hands and, setting aside the glass of cognac with a delicate push, addressed his bodyguard.

“Sannie, is Y/N giving you a tough time?”

Your name sounded precious, meaningful when he said it. Like it had a genuine purpose in this mortal realm. A melodic uttering of simple sounds that drowned out the pulsing beat that zombified the visitors of Club Estelle. Whether that music was on or not made no difference to you - either way, you would only hear Seonghwa. His voice was like a rumbling of an oncoming thunderstorm amidst a nighttime quiet. The rolling growls of heaven’s rage as steel grey clouds stalked across the sky, wrapping the defenceless earth in a catastrophic promise. With nothing but a foggy trepidation in your chest, you slid onto the seat that was to your nightmare’s right, turning to have your back to the bar and rest your elbows behind you on the elevated table. 

“Uh, not at all, sir.” San’s shift in mien was comical. In a flash, he had stepped down from the pedestal of a man who made the demands, to a servant who you struggled to imagine acting a step out of the lines that his boss had drawn out for him. You raised an eyebrow, giving the guard a onceover.

“Sannie?”

“Yes, darling. San. Like a mountain. Isn’t it cute?” Seonghwa interjected again, not letting the man who you were addressing as much as regard you. Apparently, being under his command also meant that you were instantly off limits. How dull.

“Interesting word choice…”

“He is a cutie, though, aren’t you, Sannie?” smirk gracing his lips, Seonghwa teased the cutie, who, judging by the sheer broadness of his shoulders, could probably snap a person in half with his bare hands. Not that the person would complain since the last thing they would see would be that pretty face… but that was besides the point. No one in the mafia was soft and fluffy. And if there had ever been, they had not survived long enough to establish themselves as the sole representative in history. 

“No comment.” 

“See? How fucking adorable,” with an icy tone, Seonghwa concluded. “Now, could you give us some time to speak tête-à-tête?”

“Of course.”

As rapidly as his appearance had been, so was his departure into the lingering crowd. A newbie - even more new to the business than you, was beginning her performance, and had caught the attention of a couple of the regular patrons, and the lewd chatter had picked up considerably. It was apparent, however, that it was not enough to capture the interest of the man in front of you, who shifted his seating to face in your direction, and officially broke open the door into your life once again. Not because you had been tirelessly searching for him. But because he found it beneficial for himself to make himself known to you.

“Greetings and salutations, Y/N, it’s been a while. We have much to catch up on, don’t you think?” you blinked slowly, suppressing a rude scoff. People were still watching you, that much you were aware of. Those were the perks, or the faults with wearing stripper dancewear. You were the fixation of lustful eyes, the cool glass of water that was just out of reach for the hoards of parched scum.

“I have nothing to say to you, Seonghwa.”

“Ah how I missed you saying my name.”

“And I’d rather you keep mine out of your mouth.” a total lie, had you considered your instincts and how your legs had instinctively tilted closer to the brunette, but you were not about to throw away months of fantasising the man’s demise at the first interaction. You had at least some restraint left.

“Only if you can silence me. I know a couple of ways.” he winked, but you pretended not to catch it as you stared down at his hand that was lying on the counter, studying the ornate decal on the fingerless leather glove.

Taking notice of your preoccupation, he tapped his fingers on the surface, making the silver studs that ran down each digit and surrounded the opening on the back of the hand shine in the glimmering lights. You counted the holes that revealed his knuckles, for no reason other than to try shifting focus. You were not opposed to this kind of interaction. Gestures. Hints. Symbols. It was a horrifying craving that started in the abyss that Seonghwa had left in your tarnished soul, an affliction caused and amplified even by the most mundane details. You could feel those same fingers wrapping themselves around your neck, tracing your jawline, making a ghostly descent down your body. A shiver ran down your spine as you tore yourself away from the sight that had turned into a sinful recollection, forcing out a jarring taunt to convince yourself that there were no undertones to Seonghwa’s phrase.

“With a gun?”

He was not buying it. His precious flower, barely dressed and yet graceful to the extent of rivalling divinity, squirming from his mere presence. This was what he had been searching for, all this time that he had denied you contact. You had been a bad girl. Running, thinking you were pure and angelic. He did not want you that way, so he took his time winding you up, making your world collapse so that you would be ready to take the real him. Not the foolish goon that he had been before. You had been so sweet, doting on him and showing him off to your friends. But what he yearned for was the animalistic antagonisation of his very being. The fire in your heart that drove you to a vengeful insanity. Seonghwa’s tongue pushed at the corner of his mouth before running over his bottom lip, disappearing to give way to a smug grin as he noticed your eyes dart to the action. He comprehended your capabilities properly. More than any of those quacks who you had looked up to ever could. Your demons were loud, and yet you had gone to great lengths to suppress them, even when you were the most beautiful like this. The mortal embodiment of Discordia. Truly, the one deity he would worship. The only one who he would continue sacrificing for.

“Ah, that reminds me. Heard about your boyfriend, such a shame really. He was so young…” he pondered out loud, not a single bit apologetic.

“That’s rich coming from the man who put a bullet between his eyes.” you hissed, crossing your arms as a man walked past and openly gawked at your breasts. 

Though that quickly resulted in a not so subtle threat, with Seonghwa leaning back to adjust his jacket, only to reveal the grip of a menacing handgun, tucked away into a leather holster. The visitor, who had purposely slowed his pace, bolted from the spot, giving the gangster one final look before rushing to the other side of the club. As if looking for your praise, or approval, Seonghwa hid the gun from sight once again and gazed at you, softer and more affectionate than before, his eyes transforming to take on more of a doe shape and inducing an uncomfortable pain. When you did not satisfy him, he clicked his tongue and ran his hands over his hair, shorter at the sides and revealing a buzzcut design that had begun to fade with growth. The new style suited him, you decided. Almost too well. It was frustrating.

“Ah, ah, no. Not me. My hands are clean, sweetheart.” he raised them, a hilarious attempt at trying to prove his innocence which you chose to ignore. No matter how obsessively he washed his acts away, blood was more than a rusty red liquid. It was a curse that stained the skin of those who wished to draw it with an eternal permanence, passing from generation to generation until the Earth was saturated with the hue. Ignoring the blatant bullshit, you mused the fate of the man who you had used to fill the void.

“What the fuck did he even do to you guys?”

“Oh you know how it is. Got a taste of success, got a little too greedy… and kaput. Didn’t keep a clean inventory and clean percentages, you see. And I don’t like when things aren’t clean.” you did not have to be brought into the matter any further than that. You certainly did not need to be let in on the fact that your ex was actually one of the best dealers in his district. He was just a little too close to you for Seonghwa’s comfort.

“Sure you don’t. You said the word, what, four times already? That’s why you even launder your money…” you muttered, not noticing how Seonghwa’s elbow slid closer to you until his hand began to play with a lock of your hair.

“Ah, so attentive, counting what I say…” twirling it around his finger, he observed how the myriad of colour from the club’s lights managed to change its shine, and let it fall back into an alluring cascade, “... and not only that, we also do pest control. The last thing we need is lowly vermin poisoning our supply chains and ruining user experience for our end clients, right?”

“I still don’t-”

“Funny how you got involved with him. Of all people. A drug dealer.” it was easy to make you shift focus. One mention of your failed career, and you were gone. So, in a dire situation such as this, Seonghwa would be a fool not to use this fact.

“Guess he was the only one there to actually support me in the shitstorm. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Now, now, no need to thank me, darling, when I did nothing-”

“I was blacklisted, Seonghwa. Do you know what that means?” slamming the counter with your hand, you stood up off the stool and glowered. Oh, how adorable it was when you got so riled up. A darkness flashed across his eyes as he imagined you to be a tiny predator, ready to pounce. How endearing.

“I can try to guess, though something tells me you will provide more details.” he egged you on, enthralled by how you tried to hover over him, but still retained his favourite fragility.

“It means my dreams have gone up a rat’s ass. I wanted to be a nurse, Seonghwa. And yet, as soon as I get to work, the next day after helping you and your stupid goons, I get kicked out and sued.” The only downside that he could see was that he would not be able to have his way with you were all professional and in a dainty nurse’s outfit. Though… he would have had to make some adjustments to the scrubs for that. A few rips here and there would not hurt anybody.

“It really was only basic supplies that you permanently borrowed, and for the greater good at that. I still think the hospital over-exaggerated.” you had been more than benevolent. Overlooking status, background and appearance you had dashed to lend a hand. Seonghwa had counted on you to do that so that he could drag you down closer to himself.

“In the eyes of the law, I am a thief who has gotten away with far too light a punishment.”

“And I see a saviour.” a merciful fucktoy who he had initially simply been playing around with, only to discover that you were so pathetically trusting that he could not help but fall in love.

“Poetic.” you responded sarcastically, raising your eyebrows. Seonghwa was bearing witness to the dissolution of your resistance. As much as you wished you could keep the game up, his charming falsities and unforgivable seduction were a delight that you could not withstand. 

“You know one of those ‘stupid goons’ celebrated his wedding anniversary with his wife two months ago? And then the other sent his daughter to primary school not long ago… Like I said, you made a sacrifice that those bureaucratic little shits, hidden away in offices, would never make. You care for people.”

His hands snaked to your hips, and he pulled you closer to him until you were trapped with his legs on either side of you. Even though physically you were the one looking down, every passing second you felt more and more like a lab experiment or a sample under a microscope. He was dissecting you, tearing you apart and rebuilding you once again so that you would be just right. Just for him. His favourite doll.

“Seems I care for the wrong people.” you alluded to the man in front of you, a shallow, staggered breath escaping you as he gripped a little tighter.

“Do you regret it?” his eyes. Two dark pools which housed your tailored terror, but had to be so lovable. The devil always took on the most beautiful form.

Your silence told him everything he needed to hear. You could have pushed him away, slapped him across the cheek. Hell, you could have told San to get lost - though in that case you would have probably been disposed of and continued your existence as an addition to a faraway landfill. But that was besides the point. Because you were not indifferent. And the boundary between love and hatred was nearly invisible.

“So happy to have you here. At last.” just as he was about to bring you into an embrace, drunk from the elation of your first meeting in what had to have been an eternity, you pressed down on his shoulders, narrowly avoiding the stark white collar of his shirt that was laid over his jacket, and pushed away, hostility written over your features.

“That’s why I bet you are proud of having sold me out.”

“Who said that?” confused, Seonghwa inquired.

“I just know it.”

“And I am asking, who told you that I sold you out?” stuck in what could only be equated to a tug of war, the two of you were challenging each other to ‘try their worst’.

“My e-”

“The druggie. Right. Of course he did. I bet he told you a lot of things.”

“Like how you used me…”

“Uh-huh,” his hands glided up your body until he stood up, and your arms were limp at your sides once more.

“Corrupted me…”

“My love, you’re still an angel,” he cupped your chin and gazed deep into your eyes, noting that it was as if you were reciting something that you had practised time and time again in front of a mirror until it made no more sense to you than white noise.

“Then betrayed me…”

“Something I would not do under any circumstance. You know what family honour is.” Seonghwa did not betray. He acted in ways that benefited him. And if it just so happened to leave others hurt, it was their fault for caring so much.

“Family. What the hell do you know about family?” you were seething. He was burning you. Again, and again, and again. And you were readily giving in every single time.

“Certainly more than you. Oh sweetheart, I know how lonely you have been-” he wanted to comfort you, even if that made him nauseous, but thankfully, you were not in the mood and stepped away, making him let go of you.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I only want to-”

“I said. Don’t. Seonghwa. Look. I- I hate you. Okay?” music to his ears. How you desperately tried to get away from him and from your own feelings. Scared little pet.

“Are you trying to convince yourself?” the phrase echoed within you as you took another step backwards, realising too late that you had let him wrap himself around you like a hungry python. You needed out. This was it. Final. You needed some air. Or better, to return home, climb into bed, and pretend this never happened. Future you could handle this problem, present you was irrational, risk-seeking and a harm to the self.

“N-no. I. I need to go.”

“You know you can’t.” Seonghwa whispered out loud as he watched your determined departure, right up until you were behind that heavy velvet curtain. 

He picked up his glass and studied the clear, russet contents, and let the liquid slosh around to take in the aroma. With a quick sip, he was back to his usual self, and the smile that was on his face was instantly erased. Bored, the dangerous man leaned against the counter with the weight of his body, imitating your earlier posture and commanded:

“San, I know you’re lurking, come here.” Indeed, in a matter of seconds, his bodyguard appeared from behind one of the pillars that was located closer to the kitchen.

“Yes, sir?”

“You see that man over there?” raising his glass, Seonghwa pointed in the direction of one of the very dedicated hounds who was by the stage. He had been particularly involved in your act, and from the moment Seonghwa had first noticed him, to the very last moment that you were up there, the tipsy man had probably dropped at least a couple thousand dollars’ worth of cash. He was the perfect candidate for the gangster’s plan.

“The one in the green hoodie?”

“Yes, that sleazy bastard. How about we cast him as the bad guy, huh? Payment upfront.” San nodded. The method was simple, and had shown tremendous success in the past. He hummed in agreement, waiting for Seonghwa to add his usual:

“Temporarily, of course. All in good fun.”

“Understood. What should I lay over?”

“That a certain Y/N is particularly ravishing after her performances, and will be at the back exit in about twenty minutes.”

Bang bang, I hit the ground…

Maybe what that gangster had said was true, and that you were too good for the ‘overworld’. It was an attractive thought. Perhaps after the doors to the medical field and consequently a wide range of other careers you had considered had been shut, due to your newfound, albeit light, but nevertheless a serious enough criminal record, you ended up simply tapping into your true nature as a creature of the underworld. While out there, you had always been average, here you were a saviour. A goddess. A queen. Maybe you indeed were celebrated and had gifts thrown at your feet exactly because you deserved nothing less. The chasm that was the dark side of the corrupt city might be your true home, and you had simply been in denial, running away from it. 

How easy it was to fall back into your patterns. As you sank into Seonghwa’s eyes, you recollected your time with him. The attentiveness that he had shown you. The way in which he would patiently listen to you explain obscure medical terminology, convincing you that, to him and him alone, it was interesting. You had felt blessed then. And that was exactly why you wanted to erase him. As you strutted down the corridor that ran behind the main hall of the club, leading you to the back rooms that were for staff and artists only, you shook your head. Wishful that this would help you get rid of the reminiscing of the last ‘easy’ time of your life. Before you revealed to yourself that you would commit a crime in the name of love. Even when that love was merely an illusion. Confused by your own feelings, still seeing a glowing red target over Seonghwa’s evil heart while making out golden glimmers on its surface, you stormed into the changing room and let out a sigh of relief as you saw it completely empty. You could meditate on your frightening conversation with the devil himself.

There was something therapeutic about the wind down from your performances, if you were to forget about the side eyes you were being thrown after having been caught talking to the owner of the establishment, and according to some of the whispers, a very desired man. How they could overlook the fact that he was more cold blooded than a snake when it came to satisfying their need for a happy and tranquil life amazed you. With the thumping of the music feeling so far away that you were practically enveloped in a sea of cotton, and the lights emitting a more familiar fluorescence, like a late night grocery store rather than the strobes, sickly colour selections and kaleidoscopic reflections, the changing room was a sort of safe space. You were trying to stuff the bills that you had collected, and the chunky stripper heels into a nondescript sports bag, after having covered yourself up with something more appropriate for a ‘so late it could be considered early’ trek back home.

You needed time to yourself before you were going to black out and make some foolish decisions concerning that conniving man. It was a curse, without a doubt. Not dissimilar to the very drugs you had smuggled, he was hard to quit. And you hated him for it. At least this was what you had been openly declaring, and were not going to give up on. If anything, this was your new habit. Imagining revenge on Park Seonghwa. You were going to get it. Eventually. You still had some hope left in you, even though your feet were currently struggling to hold you up, even in your sneakers, a hint of a fire in your chest as your memories of the man were refreshed. Did he have to look more handsome than before? More refined? More demonic?

When you had met him during a night out with your friends at a bar in the classier side of town, Seonghwa had introduced himself as an ‘intern’, which you now understood as one of the lower ranking goons who did the dirty work. Now, he was all white shirt and spotless sleeves, smooth skin and perfectly manicured hands, only a breath away from being a model rather than a hardened and ruthless criminal. Perhaps it was this contrast that had resulted in the man having cemented the nickname ‘Mars’ for himself, as you had found out from a few tipsy insiders who would do anything for a private show. The god of war, destruction, bloodshed, all in the name of an interpretation of peace and prosperity. The dangerous balance on the tip of a razor, by which you had undoubtedly been slaughtered.

He was a mastermind, a monstrosity in a beautiful guise as he ran, alongside the uppermost echelons of the mafia that effectively had the city, and at this point you would not put it beyond them - the country in a chokehold, the numerous operations that kept the underworld’s heart pumping. An inky fluid, viscous and bitter, one which you had accepted in a pretty glass of so-called love without thinking twice. Seonghwa knew how to make you happy. And the longer that went on, the more of a problem that became. He knew just how to spin thread out of you, how to wrap you again, and again around his finger until you were nothing more than one of the rings that he would occasionally wear to complete his outfits. And in such a hypnotised state, you thought you were doing the right thing when you broke into the place that was housing your professional dreams, and crept to retrieve some of the most sought after medication. Just for him. Oh how he thanked you then. How he had professed his love to you and praised you. You had been on cloud nine. Until you found out that someone had anonymously filed a report against you, provided all evidence, somehow all in the same night, and by the next midday you had already been summoned to court.

The day when you had stepped out of the courthouse was imprinted in your mind. Having received a much kinder sentence than one you had expected - more financial and reputational damages than anything else, you had been upbeat enough to engage in smalltalk with the state-provided lawyer whose name you had forgotten in a few hours. At least you had been that way before you saw him across the street. Lower body hidden by a jet black, matte sports car, black suit, black shirt, black hair… the reaper himself having arrived to taunt you and laugh at the death of your career. A carefree smile had been replaced by a deep scowl as the gears clicked, the puzzle completed itself in your head. Seonghwa. It had to be Seonghwa. It took every fibre of your being to restrain yourself from committing another criminal offence and attack him, and instead watch him climb into his car as though you had been nothing but empty space to him, and speed off in the direction of uptown. A murder most fowl. Of your soul, of your heart. And what mind you had left, you had promised to dedicate to hunting him down.

You sighed as you heaved the emergency exit door open, having avoided the main back entrance out of fear that Seonghwa might be there, or anywhere inside Club Estelle. What did you mean by hunting him down? Now that he was there. Within slapping distance, if you were to put it in an unceremonious manner. What were you actually seeking? Was it your mind twisting your desire for him to simply make a return and instead of stalling on your destruction, simply go on ahead with it and shoot you down? You shook your head, pulling the hoodie that was covering your otherwise scandalous outfit tighter around you as the cool air enveloped you. It was almost peaceful. Almost quiet. Almost.

“Hey Y/N~ you put on suuuuch a goood show, baby girl… fucking fantastic… damn. Was told I could catch you here and damn, you are a goddess.”

You snapped in the direction of the sound, finding a man who was rocking side to side approaching you. Relatively tall, scruffy, with dirt-stained clothing hanging off, unfortunately, a more athletic-looking body. So striking him with one of the heels in your bag and running was out of the question. Besides, who knew how he would act if he saw the cash? You backed away having been met by the stench of what had to have been at least three shots of the strongest liquor in the house, and found yourself with your back pressed against a wall of the dimly lit alleyway between the club, and a line of dumpsters, with this very drunk problem whose perverted grin was inducing an uncontrollable trembling. The longer you stood in this state of a showdown, much like a wild west film, the more he was suffocating you with the overwhelming, acrid stench of sweat, cigarettes and whatever concoction his stomach had made out of the alcohol he had consumed.

“Can I get a… private show, huh? Swear’ve been good just for you baby girl.”

You suddenly felt so alone. Abandoned. Terrifying conclusions running through your head. There was not a single performer at the club who you were more than acquaintances with, and even then, would they help? The club bouncers rarely got involved since the majority of the customers were high-paying, and apparently the rule there was: if they had cash, they could behave like trash. Maybe a dead stripper to them was just the usual night. Who would you have called in the past? You hated to admit the name, the face that floated into your brain as soon as you asked yourself the question. But Seonghwa had a way with situations like this. He had stood up for you before, to the point where you had to kiss away his pain and treat his wounds - though that was nothing compared to the scarlet sight that he had painted in your honour. It was horrific, and yet, he had made you smile. It had probably been the grandest gesture of adoration that you had ever received. 

Still managing to keep some distance between you and the disgusting creature, your brain went into overdrive. You were backing away from him, but there was only so much time before he would pounce. As much as you wanted to just scream your heart out and pray some, well, a very specific, knight in shining armour would appear out of nowhere, you were a big girl and knew that the stories you indulged in reading were not true. In real life, and especially your own life, you had to be your own hero. It was your mission to remind yourself that Seonghwa was a villain. So you tried to project him onto your temporary enemy.

Although the action made bile rise in your throat, you peered into the drunk’s eyes, trying to read his actions. Not quite walking straight, he took another step towards you, supporting himself by pushing on the dumpster to his left, your right. You immediately mirrored it, your hand feeling for the wall to your right. A couple more steps and you would be right beside a trash pile that you had spotted when you first appeared in the alley way from the staff exit – the bastard sure was persistent and did not want to give up on you. You sneered – it could almost be his redeeming quality, compared to a certain someone else who liked to drive into the metropolis and then turn into an omniscient poltergeist.

“Come on, why are you being such a tease? Weren’t you having the time of your life earlier? So sexy, don’t you want to use that?”

He was making your skin crawl. You were trying your hardest to not interact with him more than necessary and stayed quiet. One wrong move and you were going to be in much deeper trouble than this. The sort where the best-case scenario you envisioned was showing up in the news, not so alive and in a ditch. The situation reminded you of a short story by Rudyard Kipling, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, but instead of a face off between a mongoose and a king cobra, there was a young woman with a flurry of ruminations and a myriad of regrets. Though the latter was definitely swaying like a snake.

“Hey, baby girl, are you not going to come to daddy any time soon? I am getting impatient, baby, and you don’t want to piss me off.” He growled, his previously aimless blabber turning into a threat.

Your body was screaming for you to just make a run for it, but you knew better than that. This guy, unfortunately for you, was sporty enough and lanky enough to catch up to you in no time. On top of his build, you had the brilliant idea to wear new heels for your show today, which had cut into your flesh just enough to hurt, as if scolding you and repeating ‘I told you so’ and leaving your feet exhausted. As you stole a glance at the more comfortable pair of shoes for which you had settled, it was as though a lightbulb went off in your head. That was right. You did have manoeuvrability. You just needed to get one hit. 

You neared the exit of the alley, judging your proximity solely by the light emanating from a lonely street lamp right back on the main street. You steadied yourself as you saw the man open his mouth again and crouched further down to reach for an empty wine bottle that was lying on top of the pile you had been counting on. Keeping it hidden from the man, you stepped to the side, obscuring half of your body behind the large trash bin.

“What are you doing you bitch, huh? Answer me. I’ll give you one more chance.”

You remained silent, sliding your bag off your shoulder for better movement, pleading that it would not make a noise. The first glide down your upper arm was smooth enough, though your relief did not last long as it accelerated and came down to crash on some debris. That appeared to trigger new aggression in your opponent, as he practically snarled and lunged forwards, arms outstretched. You jumped backwards, only nearly missing a pipe protruding from one of the walls, and made contact with one of the walls, tripping the man as you did so. You were not thinking clearly, vision a blur, your surroundings spinning. You had only one mission now – survive. While the man was picking himself up, cursing and inspecting his painfully grazed hands, your eyes focused on the back of his head.

What if this was Seonghwa? What would you do? He had betrayed you, didn’t he? He had no right to be in your life again, regardless of your instincts. Regardless of how terrific he looked and how much he wanted you. An otherworldly rage overtook you as you imagined the devil in place of this sinner. In his designer suit, with his slicked back hair and chains that would glitter like stars even in the dim light. The set up made your body act on its own. You were fuelled by your anguish, and each sensation in the present turned into a re-enactment of your inner turmoil that had built up over the time. The guttural shriek, the stinging tears threatening to roll down your cheeks as you shut your eyes and swung with all your might only to meet-

-nothingness. A strong grip of your wrist and a firm chest pressed against your back prevented you from moving. And again, that familiar scent. Your drug. Your demise. The emergency exit door snapped itself shut, suggesting that Seonghwa had only now made it into the alleyway, and an odd sense of calm enveloped you. For the time being, he was the lesser of the many evils.

“Oh, ‘s you! Mar-”

The stinging sound of a gunshot, lulled into an ambient slumber with a silencer. Time slowed, and you swore you could see the bullet soaring through the air, about to collide with the skull of the man whose fate had been sealed. But a blink before you could bear witness to the impact, darkness overtook you, and you were embraced in an overwhelming sweetness, vision sealed with a resolved, mercilessly protective hand. You were spun in a macabre dance, now facing the gangster, breathing against the crook of his neck and focusing on the freezing cold jewellery that caressed your cheek. Nothing more than a sigh, a tainted soul escaping from the mouth of the drunkard, before you heard a thud of his body colliding with the cold concrete. 

You sincerely wished you could feel remorse, but all that you could identify in your body was an insatiable curiosity, and a perplexing connection of the societally horrific event with what had happened to your ex. So, that was how he had been disposed of, huh. The same damn signature. And he was most likely lying when he was trying to assure you that it was not the same man. His hand was too stable, heart was too calm, and the way in which he pressed his soft lips to your jaw, and once your sight was returned to you, your cheek, were all telltale signs that this was not the first time he had killed with you as his prime motivation.

“You’re awfully calm for someone who was ready to murder, darling.”

The words rang out in your head and the realisation hit you, cutting through the comforting fog that had settled over your psyche as you drifted in black irises. The bottle which you had picked out of the trash to serve as your weapon suddenly felt unimaginably heavy, and it began to slip.

“Now, now, we don’t need to cause any more of a mess…” gingerly, the bottle was taken from you, and clinked against the smoking gun as Seonghwa was more preoccupied with keeping your full attention on him. While you were still tame enough for him to manoeuvre, He returned the weapon under his jacket.

Dizzy, you swore you were within inches of delirium. Darting from one one part of his face to another, you soon spotted a tiny splatter of blood on his cheek, and lifted a trembling hand to caress it. Eyes wide, you watched as the crimson spread under your thumb and left a trail whilst you were wiping it away. Lips parted, you were locked in a soundless scream. This was not a joke. That man, no longer a man, a soon to be carcass, crow food, was dead. And without a doubt, Seonghwa was going to tell you that it was your doing. Turning slowly, you caught a glimpse of the aftermath, and the dark dots that now decorated Seonghwa’s side that had been the closest to the drunkard.

“Look at me, darling. Look at me.”

“But I, but he-”

“I said. Look at me.”

“But you kill-”

A crash resonated as Seonghwa threw the bottle against the opposite wall, the olive-coloured rainfall covering the dead body and rippling over the dumpsters. Knees buckling, you wanted to collapse next to it then and there, only to have a gloved hand force your face to be right against his.

“You are a lethal flower, darling. Shame this had to happen.”

“Shame?”

“You’re shaking. Did this man touch you?” with a concerned air, Seonghwa inquired, his breath hot against your skin. Discreetly, he began to step towards the exit of the alleyway.

“N-no… but-”

“Did he scare you?”

“Y-yes… a lot.”

“For fucks sake, these idiots have no self control, hurting my precious angel like this.”

Precious angel. You were his precious angel. So he did care, at least somewhat. You had a space, a chance to corrupt what was left of his heart. Your forehead was against his as you allowed him to guide you out of the cramped space, careful to sidestep when he told you, lifting one leg, the other when he whispered that you should do so. This felt right. He was back. He was here. He was ready to do anything for you. This was where you wanted him. While you were busy processing what had just unfolded and fading into your beloved manifestations, Seonghwa pulled you into an embrace and began to direct two of his men who had snuck in through the emergency exit and were awaiting instructions. After a couple of raises of the eyebrow, and one point towards the bag which you had abandoned, they began to tiptoe around the area, ready for a rapid spring cleaning.

Wherever he was taking you, you had no choice but to follow. Such was the rule. Even if you had other ideas and plans, now that Seonghwa was back, you had to fall into his rhythm, and figure out a new strategy that would not cause a dissonance. Your clouded mind was lulled by his low instruction. Slow down here, now heading out onto the street there… you were a puppet in his hold. You were… a criminal. Weren’t you? You froze just as the two of you approached a parked car, and judging by Seonghwa’s immediate instinct to reach into his pocket, you assumed it was his. No, you couldn’t. This was… you needed to go home. Conflicted, the hold you had on Seonghwa’s jacket loosened.

“Darling?”

“I… I need to go home.” his soft smile fell, replaced with a judgemental grimace. Retaining a fraction of decency, he refrained from shoving you against the vehicle, instead choosing to subject you to scrutiny.

“You are home.”

“Here?” you surveyed your surroundings, figuring out that you were outside Estelle, and luckily, there were no longer any stragglers who regularly tried to make it through into the venue past doors closing. The street was ghastly, located in one of the most dangerous parts of the metropolis housing anything from cheap alcohol and sex to designer drugs and assassins. Anything one could desire, they could find here. Was this really your home?

“Yes. With me.” Seonghwa was reeling you back. A click, and the car was unlocked. Keeping you within reach, he leaned to open the passenger door. You shook your head.

“No… no… I don’t want to be a-”

“Don’t want to be a what?” he insisted, and squeezed your upper arms, as if he was about to shake the answer out.

“A criminal.”

“The fuck?” 

“I am… look… I was… Again I was so ready to-” the man who was probably still in that alleyway, blood spilling like wine out of a glass that toppled over, occupied your vision, and you gawped at the bloodstain on Seonghwa’s cheek. 

“But you didn’t. You did not kill him.” Sighing, he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, not wishing to deal with a breakdown, far too attracted to you physically to care for what effect his expression of affection had.

“But I made you…”

“Oh baby, no you didn’t. I did it out of love for you. You had no part in this except being my angel. Darling, Y/N, come on…” picking his words carefully, he permeated your barriers, crawling into the expanse of your mind palace like a virus.

“I am no angel. The law literally says I committed crimes. I should not be here. I should never be here-”

Evidently this caring approach was not functional. You were simply melting into him and turning into a sappy mess, instead of the coldhearted bitch who he had spoken to in the club. Where were you? Where was the goddess who wanted nothing more but to hurt him? He had deconstructed you a little too much, it seemed, you needed a bit more venom in your system. Seonghwa snapped.

“You know what. You are right.”

“Huh?” still too dazed to answer properly, you hummed.

“Who do you think got you out of a jail sentence in the first place, huh?”

“I- I don’t… What?” eyes narrowing, Seonghwa peered into your soul. He needed you to wake up if he was going to give into his obsession.

“Talk to me. Take a guess. Do you really think that the judge was benevolent? Fuck… girl, you’re naive. That bastard passes his bank account around the courtroom, you really think he woke up one day and felt like being nice just because? Oh no… sweetheart. I got you out. You hear me? I did. Because like hell are you gonna be anybody else’s. Huh, you tried your best with that idiot rotting in the ground. Bet you screamed my name as he fucked you, right? Tell me, is that right? SPEAK, sweetheart, don’t piss me off.”

Noticing how you could not contain your tremors, he released his grip on your upper arms, only to position your hands so that they rested on his waist, while his cupped your face. What was supposed to be an intimate gesture felt like a stare down with a wild beast. His expression was that of a predator, pupils dilated so he could refresh the memories of every piece of you, while his lips curled into what you interpreted as a crooked, pitying smile.

If you did not know better, you would have believed that your love that was reflected in his dark orbs was actually his. But he was a twisted, terrifying man, who could only take. As such, most you could expect was his suffocating coddling, his treatment of you like you were of his design. His cooing as he peered at you and saw how you were putty under his touch. You hated him precisely because you knew you could never escape.

“Oh baby… my lovely little angel, look at you. Don’t you know that I would do anything to make you smile? Come on, you know that right?” he wiped a stray tear with his right hand, and you swore you caught a quiff of blood and gunpowder, blending with a hint of alcohol that was still on his breath from earlier, all to be washed away by that scent you always adored, vanilla, flowers, coffee. Seonghwa. You nodded, which seemed to provide relief for the man.

“And I will never let your pretty hands get dirty, okay? If you need somebody dead just say it my darling and I will do it. Me. You are my angel. And now, let me prove it to you, alright?”

Whatever noise had existed before was now but a soft buzz of a streetlamp. No rustling. Not a single droplet. Suspended in an intimate fog, you studied the criminal, the hardened killer, the bloodthirsty demon in front of you. The one who was so hellbent on getting you to follow him to the realm below, even though you had never left. It was simple. He led, you followed. He told you to jump, you jumped. That was all he wished for. And perhaps this was indeed your fate. Not to be rushing around in hospital corridors, nor to be collecting banknotes in a g-string. But to completely fall from grace for the embodiment of an apocalypse, who more than willingly closed the space between you to taste the lust you had been suppressing, relishing your shared sin.

Bang bang, that awful sound…

The wind styled your locks as Seonghwa sped deeper into the night, abandoning the artificial lighting of the underworld district. From bars and clubs, to sleepy neighbourhoods, and finally, the inspiring expanse of rolling hills and rocky slopes, he was taking you to a place where you would never be bothered nor controlled, yet one that gave you a view of the city that was so breathtaking, that it was easy to believe you could destroy it. Estelle would be smaller than ever, and your problems would be nothing more than a haze on the line of the horizon. The cliffside had been your spot when you were something of an item, with you always begging for Seonghwa to take you there, if not for the alone time, then at least for the striking skyline. How oddly romantic of him to pick the spot now.

Relaxing into the leather seat of the Rolls Royce convertible, a new addition to Seonghwa’s collection - as he had informed before starting the car, you tested the strength of the breeze by stretching your hand out of the window and letting it float. After a couple of tries, you finally got into the right pose for minimal resistance, and pretended that you were a bird, soaring, cageless. The glimmering dots of the city even further from you than now as you spread your little wings and lifted yourself towards freedom. In moments like these, you were happy to be able to enjoy the simplicities, and it was easier than ever to pretend that you were not the Y/N who had fallen so irreversibly for a beast, that to you even his lies sounded like the truth. And, of course, it was easy to imagine that Seonghwa himself was capable of feeling love.

He did not bother taking off his gloves nor, which was uncharacteristic of him, clearing the remnants of the execution off his face, as if it was a badge of honour. Interestingly, the more you observed the gangster, the more you got used to the new additions and even took them as complementing features. While he kept one hand on the steering wheel, he continuously seeked contact with you, the other gripping your thigh as if to make sure that you were still there in the car with him and were not a hallucination. The exhilarating velocity at which the car dashed past trees, somnolent villas and road signs was barely letting you catch your breath due to Seonghwa choosing to keep the roof off, and so to stabilise yourself you returned the gesture. The smirk into which his lips curled was not quite as threatening as it had appeared before, however his aggressive slam on the accelerator made you start praying. What would the family that had not yet disowned you think, if they were to find you in a crashed car with one of the most notorious men in the region? You chuckled; they would probably agree that at least the last thing you saw was beauty himself.

Finally, you approached the secluded location, and fortunately, it was as abandoned as ever. Grinding to a halt on a gravelly clearing, beyond which were two lines of wooden fences that had been set up at the very edge of the small cliff, Seonghwa set the car into parking, cranked the handbrake and turned off the ignition. A deafening silence overtook you as you looked up at the night sky, twinkling stars reminding you of the collection of silver that hung around the enigmatic fiend’s neck and on his left ear. In the absence of machinery, you could feel his presence even more acutely, and the anticipation for what he undoubtedly had planned was reducing the supposed coolness of the hour into a mere deception. Your body was burning up, and as Seonghwa’s hand moved higher and higher until it was teasing you by playing with the drawstrings of your tracksuit bottoms you had to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

You stared out at the metropolis through the windshield, registering your beloved criminal’s movements towards you. As you studied the glinting whites, reds and yellows that formed the urban starscape, you could not help but ponder how, out of all the millions of people, in this architectural phenomenon that seemed to stretch on forever, on a day when you were not even supposed to be where you had ended up being, you had run into none other than Park Seonghwa. And as fate would have it, you were naive enough to let him take everything from you. And being the loved up, hypnotised fool that you were, you thanked him for the misery in which you found yourself, because at least he made you feel. With him you were a disaster, but you saw life in colour. With him it was impossible to tell whether there would be a tomorrow, but you could exist in an exuberant today. With him, the everchanging palette of emotion had a canvas to paint on. And tonight, you were going to let the masterpiece create itself.

“Take the gloves off if you want to touch me so badly.” you derided him for his eagerness, though did not see any dampening to it. On the contrary, he appeared to be more drawn to you than ever, mumbling a ‘sure thing, darling’ as he unbuttoned the leather, and slid the pair off his hands with his canines to speed up the process. The gloves found a home in the compartment underneath the wheel, to join the harness and pistol that he had stashed away there.

“Good?” he asked, giving you a mischievous grin.

“Good.” no more words were needed for him to pull you towards him, and lock your lips together in a feverish, thrilling kiss.

Oh, how you missed this. How you missed the mind-numbing sensation of his hand on the back of your neck, how soft his lips were compared to his sharp and intimidatingly stunning appearance. You moved in a familiar rhythm, having recognised one another’s alluring presence and only wanting more with each passing second. Frustrated with the remaining distance, Seonghwa growled into you and dragged you by your top; understanding his goal, you rose from your seat and promptly were settled on his lap, grinding against his growing erection that was concealed by too many layers of clothing for your liking.

Brushing his hair back, lightly tugging on it as you reached the ends, you were giving yourself up to the scalding hot hellfire. Your memory did not fail you: the action elicited a groan, and the kiss was further deepened until your lungs were screaming for oxygen. Pulling away, you gasped, only to be alerted by a stinging pain on your cheek, and a hostile grimace on the man, whose hand was hovering next to your jawline.

“Did I say you could pull away?”

“And since when are you so damn needy?” You challenged, slapping away the hand that had just collided with you, and placing yours on his exposed throat, not bothering to ease into the action as you pushed your digits into the sensitive skin, restricting his airflow and preventing him from taunting you with a mocking retort.

You continued to rock your hips forward, sensing your own arousal climbing further and further amidst the enjoyment of the man’s temporary obedience. You watched his eyes roll back momentarily, and he attempted to tilt his head towards you and steal your lips, only for you to wriggle in his lap until you were completely out of his reach, still holding his neck.

Seonghwa was seeing stars, and yet amongst them you still shined the brightest. There you were. This was who he was searching for. When he was at his limit, and could no longer withstand the restraint, he rapidly reached for your wrist and yanked your arm away, making you yelp. To prevent you from attempting anything similar, he used his hands as cuffs to keep you under his control, and pulled you to him. Giving you a smirk corrupted by lust, he kissed you again, only this time letting his long tongue part your mouth, and swirl itself around.

Wanton sounds filled your mind and preoccupied your ears as you parted, strings of saliva connecting you. Apparently dissatisfied, Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, and gripped your waist. Sitting up, he mumbled ‘back seat’ and stumbled out of the car with you wrapped around him. In seconds, you were lying on the couch-like leather, Seonghwa above you as he shifted his attention to your neck, leaving trails of spit, and nipping at the skin until he saw the beloved bruising begin to show. Sucking above the jugular vein, he imagined himself tearing you apart then and there. Destroying you. But the way in which your hands swiftly moved to unbutton his shirt was too enticing to not commend.

“Look who is needy now.” he teased, and reached for the zipper on your hoodie, unable to contain a pleased sigh as he saw that you had not changed out of the white dancewear. As soon as the hoodie was off, and flying in the direction of the steering wheel, he let himself devour the tainted goddess that you were.

Trailing over the fabric, he did not wish to take it off, the image of you around the pole still fresh in his mind and amplifying his lust. His lips made contact with your chest as he added more love bites to his abstract design.

“You drove me crazy earlier tonight with those moves of yours. How could you even consider anything else when you have a body made to sin?”

“I think you are batshit by default.”

“Do you want me to punish you again?” he threatened, discontented when it had no effect on you as you contended. 

“By what, hitting me? Two can play that game-” as soon as he saw your hand flying towards him, he caught it and forced it down by you, and chuckled.

“Be a good girl and you’ll come.”

“Big deal.”

“Says the whore who was grinding against me.”

He shifted to untie your sweats, and dragged the material down to reveal your matching white g-string, stopping for a second before moving to take it off too. The bra was going to be enough for him.

“Says the reprobate with a hardon from the bare minimum.”

He did not respond, too enraptured by the sight before him. Your form, laid out and so familiar, and yet, the newfound resolve and the bite in your words was boundlessly more attractive than the mellow nurse in training that he had fucked before. The blaze that had festered and grown within you, painting your psyche and very essence in the soot of detestation was a guiding light to him, a star in the pitch black that he gravitated towards, and wished to take over. Your strength and determination spurred him on and inspired him to make you reach the point of no return. How? He was yet to decide. But that came after he had his fill of your intoxicating body.

“Damn, Y/N, do I even need to get you ready for me? You’re so fucking wet-” he remarked, running a hand over your pussy, with it immediately receiving a dose of your slick.

“Guess you don’t.” you countered, attempting to shut your legs together, but to no avail as your brattiness only encouraged him.

“You know what. I am in a giving mood. A changed man. Ready to commit some good deeds.” he announced to you in a low, borderline monstrous tone as Seonghwa pulled you by your ankles closer to him and began to work at your arousal.

After a slow start, where he languidly circled your nub until you gave out a whine, the man dedicated himself wholly, and soon enough, you were sinking into a sensual paradise. The two digits pumped into you, while with his other hand Seonghwa was stimulating your sensitive clit relentlessly, rubbing the erect nub until you were barely able to produce any sound at all. Pressing his thumb right against its tip, he curled his fingers and beckoned you closer to a climax, stopping the motions, he kept his hand inside as he replaced the finger that was dominating your clit with another thumb, and instead took to rapidly building you up with practised, fast flicks, higher, higher, just as you were about to-

Your hips jerked up, only to be met with a total emptiness as you tried desperately to coax Seonghwa into giving you your orgasm, to which he only responded with a click of his tongue, and a demonstrative sucking of his digits as you watched him with a glazed over expression.

“You rude, unbearable menace.”

“Awh, is my precious angel angry that I did not give you what you wanted?” he asked, giving his cock a couple of pumps before making a circular motion with his index finger and ordering you.

“On your hands and knees, like the bitch you are.” immediately, you obliged, unable to contain yourself after he had denied you what you had been seeking, with that devilish grin suggesting just how much the notion had excited him. Finally, he undid his belt and trousers, letting his aching length spring free, a hiss escaping Seonghwa as the cool air hit it.

Finding your slick-coated pussy with the tip of his cock, he teased you, repeatedly moving it back and forth between your folds. When you let out a whine, rocking your ass side to side in an attempt to deliver your need for more friction, Seonghwa merely chuckled and pushed forward, keeping his member flush against your sex, but not offering any relief. Your wetness coated him as he continued the torturous act, pausing to flick your clit and snicker at just how desperate you had become for his dick.

“Tell me if you want it.” Seonghwa wanted to hear you beg, or sigh, or anything else to suggest that you were fully pliable, but what had come out of your dirty mouth surpassed all his wishes.

“You want this pussy more than I want you, judging by how fucking hard your cock is, Hwa.”

Without as much as a warning, he put an end to the foreplay and slammed his hips against yours, sinking deep inside and groaning at the warm invitation of your walls. As he heard you yell out, he mercilessly glided back until only his tip was between your labia, only to thrust and bottom out once more. And again. And again. Just as he had remembered from the nights he had you before, this left you trembling, and soon enough your body was pleading for more, to which he happily obliged, smacking you on the ass and speeding up.

The feeling of you spasming around him and the feeble moans were an unrivalled art. He positioned one hand to hook around you and held it against the area right below your belly, biting his lip as he felt his dick pushing deep inside you, the bulge detectable by his palm. Closing his eyes, Seonghwa focused on this sensation, thereby slowing down ever so slightly, and moving to hit the spot that accelerated the growth of the knot in your tightening core. 

“A-ah… Seong… hwa…” you mewled into each stroke, hazy and unable to form anything more than nonsensical babble.

“That’s right, darling, only I can make you feel this good.”

Seonghwa was despicable, because he knew exactly how to make you lose your mind and fall apart under him and forget that you ever hated him at all, driven only by a carnal passion. Having had enough practice to study you, you were at his mercy as he provided the exact fullness that you had been desiring for so long, the exact firm thrusts that were bringing you closer and closer to a total fall, and the honey-laden voice that had you turning even weaker.

“My- darling-”

Your climax came down on you hard and fast, and you crumbled into the shaking that washed over you, forehead almost connecting with the back of the seats if not for the fistful of your tresses that Seonghwa had grabbed. Not letting you ride out your high, he quickened his pace and each thrust was making your vision darken and your moans turn into pathetic wails, drowned out by the lewd slapping of skin against skin that was lubricated by your orgasm. Using you as a fucktoy, he chased his own high and pushed you into an abyss of violent pleasure, ceasing to abuse your cunt only when he deemed it necessary for himself.

He slid his cock out of your pulsating sex, dragging it over your clit before ushering you to kneel before him. Movements still too slow and lagging, Seonghwa proceeded to guide one leg, then another down, so that you were ready for him. Lifting your chin, he he peered into your hazy orbs and commanded:

“Open.”

As you slackened your jaw and opened your mouth wide in obedience, he spat into it, and upon positioning one of his hands at the back of your head and the other at the base of his member, he slid into the warmth, sighing as your tongue glided along his throbbing length, as if encouraging him to go deeper until his tip hit the very limit and bumped against the back of your throat. You struggled to suppress your gag reflex, but the salaciousness of the combination of yours and his spit and your orgasm dribbling around his cock as you began to bob your head was driving Seonghwa to the brink of insanity, and you desperately wanted to see him unravel entirely.

“Ah… that’s it. My good cock slut. This mouth is built… for me.”

You allowed him to choke you as he fucked your throat with abandon, submitting to the oncoming waves of his orgasm. Clawing at his thighs you seeked balance, to which he responded by pushing you even closer, earning a muted yelp. The vibration drove him over the edge as he pumped himself inside you only a few more times, before collapsing into a series of staggered bucks of the hips and a muttering of filthy curses.

“Swallow darling, I bet you were dreaming of this- ah, fuck-” he exclaimed. 

He threw his head back as you centred yourself, trying to relax into how his hand that was tangled in your hair kept you so close that your nose was pressed against his pubic bone, though it proved to be an impossible challenge. In an effort to overcome the pain that spread over your jaw as Seonghwa refused to let go of you, you blinked away the moisture in your eyes and focused on the sensation of the hot, salty cum coating and running down the back of your throat. 

When he finally released you from his hold and let you fall onto the floor of the car, you sputtered and gasped for air, vision having grown blurry. While he did not comfort you, nor praise you for how well you had taken him, even though judging from his state you could make your own conclusions about the performance, this roughness felt more real, more honest than the intimacy you had shared before. You licked the corners of your mouth, collecting the remnants of his cum and spit, and crawled up onto the leather seating to be met with open arms, a gesture which, in your exhaustion, you accepted.

Captured in a lazy embrace you admired the universe that surrounded you. The dawn was imminent, with some of the more enthusiastic birds already greeting you with their songs and the distant rumble of the city beginning to pick up, and yet none of this felt real. It was like you were floating in the air, tethered to the mortal realm only by the man beside you. You had taken the liberty of snatching Seonghwa’s suit jacket, considering that the outerwear you had been wearing had been unceremoniously discarded and thrown into the driver leg space, outside of your immediate reach. 

You pondered what was going to happen after this broken reunion, that had been as always, orchestrated by the evil mastermind with a pretty face, currently resting on the seats, one arm over the door, the other on the back rest, head tilted to the sky. When you inspected one of the dark spots on the right sleeve of the jacket, you had come to realise that the dead man, who you had left behind to chase your pleasure, had, amidst his departure from the living, was trying to greet Seonghwa. Using his gang name, no less. You wanted to laugh until tears would be streaming down your face. Double over and, hands hitting your thighs, fail to compose yourself and continue laughing at just how ignorant you were. Fooled once again. Of course that scene had been this criminal’s doing. How else could anything ever happen to you if not with Seonghwa’s meddling? This overly involved, human embodiment of jeopardy who you had voluntarily invited in to share space and time, so elegant as he was devoid of movement, counting stars in the sky, the unbuttoned white shirt gracing his figure like a heavenly robe. It was a shame that you had to have chosen him to glorify, especially since he fit the role well enough to fit into your delusions.

As you sat upright, only to put your elbows on your knees and lean to catch your head in your hands, you mused whether you truly despised this man or not. It was almost habitual, routinely, to curse his name again, and again until it was nothing but an incoherent collection of syllables. It was your shield and clarity, your comprehension of the incorrigible man who, come the opportunity, would shoot you down the same way that he did to hundreds, if not thousands of others. It was heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, but unfortunately true. In his eyes the individuals with families, friends, hopes and dreams, hell, even those with nothing at all, were nothing but sacks of bone and blood that he could scare into submission, or drain if they disobeyed. Such were his methods. Methods that you had looked the other way from, making yourself believe that you were above that amateur, unjust purgatory. No matter how much of you Seonghwa received as an offering, it was never going to be enough. The seven deadly sins were a bucket list for him, and one in which he would outshine every reckless criminal. He was systematic, calculating, and would not hesitate to remove a variable that no longer served him.

You were serene, a ghost of a smile dancing on your lips. Slowly, you blinked, immersing yourself in the sensation of the bites, the kisses that the man you had once felt something for gifted you. Sultry tattoos that you would wear with the pride of a person who had defeated themselves, come to terms with, and learnt to coexist with inner turmoil. Nothing short of a miracle. If this hell were to continue, then you would simply have to adapt to live with the ebbs and flows of a turbulent tide. Hilarious, how you were treating Seonghwa as if he was a terminal disease that you had to live with, but the analogy was comforting. Until the moment when you would receive a bullet between your brows, you would strive to live fully, and remain indifferent. As much as you had wanted to ‘get the final word’, you had come to realise that all you had to say had been said, and he was no longer worth your time. Looking at the horizon, you spotted the sun beginning to stir under its heavy blankets, getting ready to rise.

“You thought about me, didn’t you?” Seonghwa’s voice broke your peace, and you turned to him, regarding his bewitching demeanour with a tired onceover.

“Hm?”

“You were thinking about me, in that alley way. Weren’t you?” so, he had realised now, too. However, you were not bothered to continue this discourse. Fascinating how the mind of even the most evil of men could get fixated on the simple things like a random good-for-nothing becoming a gourmet meal for maggots.

“I am not sure why or how that matters.”

“Would you kindly get the gun for me?” Now that piqued your interest, so you obliged, and reached over the front seats, aware of how your ass was on full display for Seonghwa though he had just seen you in even more lewd tones. After a couple of tries, the hand gun was in your hands, and hooking it by the trigger guard, you tried to pass it to its owner. To your surprise, he refused and you remained standing in your perplexion.

“What are you getting at?”

“You definitely thought about me. As a matter of fact you were thinking about doing this for a long time.” you could not deny that, and thus remained silent, “Remember how I taught you to fire a gun?” the man continued, and you nodded along.

“That I do, but again. Not sure how it applies.” you crossed your arms, the pistol swinging ever so slightly from your index finger.

“Don’t you want to fulfil your dream, darling?” he raised an eyebrow and grinned.

Another game. Another dare. Another attempt at making you feel something when you had no more emotions to spare. You were spent. For the first time since you had first come to be acquainted with Park Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Hwa, Mars, you saw a stranger. A passing face who you would regard, but most importantly, go on your merry way and never wish to see again. No more yearning, nor begging. He was cute when he thought he was in control. You chuckled, earning a questioning gaze from the ghost of your past.

“What is so amusing, my dear Y/N? So delighted that you can barely contain yourself?”

Oh, if only he knew. You steadied your breathing, and through half-lidded eyes, took in the man’s form that you had once worshipped. Everything had finally clicked, and unknowingly, the symphony in your mind was now fully composed, all to Seonghwa’s rhythm. Your magnum opus, by the visitation of a brutal muse, completed. With the softness of a stalking cat, you bent forward and came face to face with this boy, and with both hands, pressed the gun to his bare chest, smiling languidly as it collided with the necklaces to make a noteless tune. Seonghwa’s eyes widened as he followed your ascension back to now leaning against the front seat further from him, stifling a laugh of his own as he realised your intentions. The world held its breath as you dispelled your nightmare, and, light-hearted, like you were discussing daily happenings or the weather, asked him:

“You said you’d keep my hands clean, right?”

“Yes.” breathless, he whispered.

“You said you would kill anyone for me, right?” you continued sweetly, studying how Seonghwa checked the magazine and clicked the hammer with practised motions, appearing almost impressed.

“Yes.”

“Do anything to make me smile?” you tested, and he conceded, brushing a hand over the barrel, and looking up to memorise your every detail.

“Yes.”

“Then prove it. And make me smile. One last time.”

You uttered, admiring how his perfect skin, his gorgeous eyes, his dark soul glowed, caught ablaze in the rays of the rising sun.

Bang bang, my baby shot me down.

[rogueddie]

Trans Steddie Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🏳️‍⚧️

Unknown Jungles

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point out the stars and i’ll stare at your hand

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You're Enough

SimpleBTRomance

Max didn't know how far she stormed away from where the others were in the park, but it was far enough for asphalt to turn into dirt to then turn into grass. She walked until she found an old swing set and she sat down on one of the swings, "Stupid boys, stupid Mike Wheeler." She mumbled under her breathe, aggressively wiping at her eyes and sniffling to hold back tears.

Words : 805 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Overcoming

ainsalaco

Steve Harrington, 35, retired basketball player finally decides to shed his old name and pronouns, as well as his tits. After moving to a new city to start fresh, Steve seeks out the aid of a tattoo artist to help him cover his scars from surgery. He meets Eddie Munson and along the way the two fall in love.

Words : 8,416 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

[dissonant-chord]

phantom and the stars

my gift for @fries-n-knives for the phantom truce !! you mentioned liking grayghost so i wrote a little pre-reveal fic of them being pals :] initially i had a hurt/comfort planned but i could not get this idea out of my head

ive never written valerie before this fic i hope i did her justice

AO3 Link: Here!!

Word Count: 824

Summary: Valerie encounters a Danny Phantom on a rooftop one night who seems more into the stars than she realized.

It was unusual to see Phantom quiet and alone. Oftentimes, he was trailed behind by Sam and Tucker or even that dang dog of his, wreaking havoc in his path. He was eerily quiet when she approached the spot he laid on the rooftop.

"Danny Phantom," the Red Huntress sneered, "what schemes are you involved in this time?" She kept one hand ready on her ectoblaster in case said ghost tried something. 

At first he didn't even move to respond, laying motionless like a corpse on the ground. The closer she got to Phantom, the closer she got to a realization.

He was sleeping. 

"You're kidding me. You are actually kidding me." Amity Park’s most well known ghost, taking a nap in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. She stared down at the white haired ghost who seemed far too comfortable here. Honestly, she thought to herself, how easy would it be for her to just ambush him? Usually she'd see him nearer to Fenton Works or the school, but he's a bit further away from all that this time.

She lowered her guard ever so slightly, hand no longer gripping the blaster. She didn't realize he needed sleep. Or that he even could sleep. 

Valerie sat down on the roof, letting herself relax a bit. It was better here than going back home to work on homework at the very least. And she could keep an eye on that Phantom Menace, making sure he doesn’t get up to something bad.

She glanced down at her phone, briefly scrolling through social media, ending up just staring at her background of her and Danny on one of their dates. Time to time, she'd glance down at Phantom, watching the very slow rise and fall of his chest. Did he need to breathe? Or was it just part of his human mimicry? Either way it was drastically slower than hers.

The longer she stared at him, the more he reminded Valerie of her Danny. Both had subtle freckles, although Phantom's were glowing green and vaguely star shaped. Their hairstyles were practically identical even with the color difference. The amount of Fenton tech the ghost owned was also a little strange. There was also the subtle green scar running up his neck, almost like Danny's lichtenberg scar. She always did want to ask Danny about that, but it never seemed like the right time to mention it.

Her thoughts were pulled to a halt when Phantom's seemed to twitch in his sleep before sitting up and stretching. He rubbed his eyes, glancing around before settling on Valerie who had subconsciously reached for her blaster again.

"What are you doing here?" Phantom asked warily, subtly pushing himself back away from Valerie. His voice had its usual ghostly echo, reminding her that this is in fact not Danny Fenton.

"I could ask you the same," she glared.

Phantom sighed, stretching again, keeping an eye on Valerie while she did the same. "I fell asleep, I guess. I wanted to stargaze." The ghost stared up at the sky, a sad look on his face. "It's kinda sad."

"What is?" Valerie felt her skin crawl, slowly letting her hand relax to her side again. It was unusual having a conversation with Phantom. He's more conversational than she initially thought. Guess there’s more than just subpar oneliners.

"The light pollution. I have to go so far away from Amity to see even the brightest of constellations. And even then you don't get the full view," his voice grew quieter and the natural ghostly echo seemed to lessen ever so slightly. "Have you ever truly seen the stars?"

Valerie was taken aback by the question. Was he like this normally? When they weren’t fighting?

Was he really as bad as she thought? This gave some new insight on the ghost.

She shook her head. "I guess I haven't."

Phantom sighed softly. "I figured. They're beautiful. Maybe we could see them together." Valerie watched as a pale green blush spread across his face. "No- wait, that's silly," he laughed rubbing the back of his neck and looking away, "we're enemies."

"You blush green?" How has she never noticed that before?

"Ectoplasm instead of blood will do that."

"I see." It feels like she's seeing Phantom in a new light. A strangely more human side of him. "I'd like to see them at some point if a ghost like you says they're beautiful."

"Next week?"

Her eyes widened. "Huh?"

"Next week we see the stars?"

She could feel her face heat up behind the cover of the helmet. "Yeah. Yeah okay."

Phantom pushed himself up, stretching his arms high above his head. "Great chat then! Can't wait!" He gave her a cheeky wink before quickly vanishing from her sight.

Valerie stood there in shock for a moment, her face feeling like it was on fire.

What had she gotten herself into?

[a-driftamongopenstars]

love under the moonlight; crow x guardian fic

wanted to write something for my hunter girl Cherish and Crow, sooo here it is. also on ao3

The night is warm from the day’s sunlight. Leaves rustle softly in the wind, so does the grass. And something rustles behind the tree trunk, two Guardians, stumbling over each other, trying to steal kisses, drunken on each other. They fumble and curse and laugh.

Crow laughs, helping the Guardian out of the armour, quite forgetting about the technology that may make it go away much faster.

But what is the fun in that?

It was a stroke of inspiration, really, deciding to have sex here on the distant EDZ outskirts. But either one felt needy for affection, for physical touch, for something more, and this is how Crow finds himself straddled on the forest floor in the middle of the night, Cherish atop of him and moving with eagerness to sink on him. 

As he looks up, the midnight sky is a beautiful deep blue, scattered with stars, but she… She is the brightest shining moon. Her short silver hair sways in rhythm, strands sticking to her forehead, sweaty with exertion.

“Light, you are beautiful,” Crow sighs, his voice hoarse from wonder and from pleasure. The Guardian slows down in her ride with slow deliberation, and either one knows that reservedness is not for long. She is quite a tease when she wants to be.

“So are you,” she breathes out, holding his face in the cup of one hand. Her palm is warm, sweaty, and he leans into the touch. Her thumb brushes under his eye, then over his lips. She pauses for a moment, lost in that affection, but soon resumes her movements, as Crow grips her thighs with a strong grasp.

They laugh when she breaks a small branch she is leaning on, so she opts to hold onto his shoulders instead. Her fingers flex at every change of the angle, her nails brush the bark of the tree when she feels too excited. Crow lets her do anything she wants, watching in a mesmerised fog, lost entirely to his own pleasure.

He lets his hands wander. Her physique is beautiful, old pre-Light tattoos mingled with the newer ones. He strokes her scars, the ones she chose to keep. He appreciates her muscle, her chest, anywhere he feels like touching. And his deft hands gather quite the response from her, softened sighs and moans, quiet, even if no one can hear. At least, they hope no one can.

A few moments later, she lets loose, fucking Crow faster. Happy sweet movements, making his mind swim with pleasure, making his voice hoarse.

“Light, don’t stop,” he encourages her, smiling, eyes looking up. She could be the moon in all her silver glow, but she burns like the sun.

Her fingers dig into his shoulders, and Crow embraces her, gathers her closer, urging for both their release. And she grants it to them both, losing the final moans in a sweet messy kiss. Crow caresses her shoulder blades and feels her body arch against his.

A paradisiacal release.

As she slows, and Crow begins to feel the soothing cold air of the night, they trade kisses again. Softer, now, sweeter, but they do not separate from each other. Restful, body against body, skin against skin, matching heartbeats so wild and yearning.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does the Guardian.

And they need only a little bit of time to repeat their love beneath the moonlight.

[violettduchess]

I noticed licht doesn't have a kiss fic yet. Sorry, I know you're busy with the broken heartstrings series rn but I'm gonna trow it in anyways for when you might have time, before i forget about it [again]

hugs ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ and Love, V

A/N: Thank you for the request @viohasgoneintothewoods 💜 Licht has been requested several times before (hello Licht kiss anons!) but I wasn't sure how to fulfill it without it being a bit darker than some of the other kiss fics. But now that I have thrown myself into writing angst, this request fits right into Broken Heartstrings (and is a lot faster to write)! So here you go!

Word Count: 568

His name means “light.”

And when he holds you in his arms, you believe the warmth that fills your heart rivals any bright ray of summer sunshine. Peace and contentment flood you at the feel of his strong embrace, a fortress that would withstand anything if it meant protecting you. He is a bastion of love, a bulwark you can hold on to in the face of any turbulent storm.....but what do you do when those very arms are what is shaking? When the light you know he possesses begins to dim?  

His name means “light."

But the man you love is haunted by shadows. The past has a dark grip over him, long tendrils that snake their way silently through his mind, that wrap around his heart like black, thorny vines and squeeze. 

He is a paradox: delicate strength. Mighty fragility. 

In the bright light of desire, when he allows that passion to overrule any other emotion, he is as powerful as Helios. But instead of driving four fiery steeds across the sky, he is blazing a trail of kisses across your body. His lips are fire, stoking the heat in your veins, bringing a sunset-colored flush to your skin. As sure as the sun burns a beaming path across the sky, so does Licht set you aflame. His mouth is sure, his hands are steady. He is a torch in the darkness, lighting the way, leading you higher and higher towards the heavens. His name escapes your lips, the sound a comet of radiant light across the night sky. He kisses you and you are a supernova on the verge of bursting. You are Sirius, the brightest star in the heavens. You are filled with the light of his love and his adoration and his fervent need and you are unstoppable.

His name means "light."

But sometimes desire and love and want are not enough to spark that glow. Sometimes the darkness wins. Sometimes his mouth is unsure. His hands unsteady. Sometimes he does not think to reach for you at all because he is afraid that he is something foul, something that will not empower you but rather taint your goodness with something less than. He shrinks into the shadows, prefers to wrap his arms around himself, storm clouds pelting him with a cold rain that screams, “You are unworthy. You do not deserve this.” It is then your turn to reach out, through the stinging gray fog and find him. To pull him into the warm circle of your embrace, to run a hand over his soft, silver hair and press kiss after loving kiss against his chilled skin. You kiss understanding against his cheek, cold and damp with tears. You kiss acceptance against his pale forehead. You kiss empathy into the curve of his jaw. And you kiss his lips, feeling the way they tremble against yours, and give him all of your love, tender and patient. Over and over your lips touch his. Over and over you tell him wordlessly how deeply you love him. Over and over and over until the tremors that wrack his scarred body cease. Until his war-torn heart finds a steady rhythm once again. Until the haunted shadow fades from his luminous eyes. Until the well of tears has run dry. 

His name means “light.” 

And you will always find him in the darkness.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

[goodomensandbadpress]

Cute fic idea? That came to me while i was trying to distract myself from anxiety so i could sleep.

But Regulus being reincarnated as a little black cat who gets adopted by the Lupin family, because Tonks recognizes something odd about the grumpy little kitten (Its eyes, hes looking at me like he knows me) and Remus isn’t a cat person but he can already tell toddler teddy is in love with the cat and Tonks promises that shell do the vet stuff and litter changes. They call him Bagheera They bought a VHS at Tonks request, Teddy’s just watched the jungle book and hes convinced the kitten is actually a black panther.

He’s the grumpiest cat in the world, terrified of water, won’t go out in the rain for roast beef. And hes small for his age but within a week he has the neighbours dog cowering and the Tom down the street crosses the road when hes out prowling. But hes the best rat catcher and he never scratches or bites (so long as you let him have the best spot right next to the fire place) and it takes a while but soon he curls up on your lap and purrs so loud it sounds like there's a lawnmower in the living room.

Remus wasn’t really convinced. It was Tonks and Teddies cat really. Then the full moon came. And even after all these years, with the wolfsbane and experience, hes still ashamed. He’s no threat but he hides from his wife and son down in the basement. The beast has aged with him, its fur is greying, its skin is gnarled with scars. He curls up on a mattress covered in blankets (Tonks insisted he have at least something nice to lay on, even though he refused any other amenities). Suddenly two big blue eyes open up amidst a see of darkness and Remus is transported back 30 years through the wolfs eyes, scared, angry, when two grey eyes appear. followed by a big black dog that doesn’t understand boundaries, a stag who stamps and paws the ground impatiently, wanting to race him down to the river, and a big brown rat that climbs up his leg and nestles in his fur, scratching just the right places.

The full moons weren’t so lonely after that. With a cat that was just half a step too familiar. They weren’t cuddly by any means. But in the early mornings he would creep out the basement, in just a dressing gown, limping down the corridor to the kitchen. Bagheera would walk with him, at Remus’ pace. They would watch the sun rise, over a cup of tea, or a bowl of water. Remus didn’t want to wake Tonks.

And on nights before and after the moon. When Remus was restless and in pain he would make his excuses to his wife, go outside to smoke even though he swore he was going to quit this time.  He would sit outside and Bagheera would follow him, and look up at the stars with his big eyes that looked like they understood more than a cat should know. Remus told him about everything on nights like that. About James and Lily, the marauders and their pranks, about Peter, when he was his best friend. He cried when he talked about Sirius, the brightest star who grew up in an awful place but was still kind and the truest Gryffindor. The cat just watched the stars. He watched Sirius.

[ajitated]

Aj's 2021 Fic Wrap-Up!

(Originally posted 1 January 2022)

This year, I actively started writing and posting my fic, and joined the DP fandom!

Works: 38

Total WC: 111,590

Events: Invisobang, Phic Phight, DannyMay, Ectoberhaunt

All my 2021 fics are linked below the cut in reverse-chronological order! (literally all DP fic)

Fic title (event) | Ship, WC, Rating | Shortest description I could come up with

Drifting | Gen, 1.1k, G | Danny emotions / character study

Facing Facts (phight) | Gen, 5.6k, T+ | Danny and Dash heart-to-heart

Phan Merch (phight) | Gen, 1.2k, G | Dannypocalypse meme fic

Plausibility (phight) | Gen, 1.4k, G | Vlad and Maddie-the-cat

Fire and Ice (phight) | Gen, 3.1k, G | fire core!Danny, class ski trip

More of You (phight) | Dark Ages, 2.3k, T+ | Pariah got new piercings

What Can be Found (phight) | Gen, 4.9k, G | A ghost ship and the Fentons A+ parenting

Gossip-monger (phight) | Gen, 1.8k, G | Casper High gossip

Captivated (phight) | Gen, 1.1k, G | Eldritch ghost that manipulates happiness

Blank Spaces (may) | Dark Ages, 4.8k, T+ | Clockwork memory-loss fic (pre-Danny era)

Where the Heart Is (may) | Dark Ages, 898, G | Domestic fluff

Retrospection (phight) | Gen, 2.7k, G | Lancer overhearing a convo between Danny and Wes

Masters Portal (may) | Gen, 1.1k, G | invisobang fic preview

The Brightest Burns (may) | Dark Ages, 2.8k, T+ | human rockstar au, star!cw and manager!Pariah

More Than Bargained For (phight, may) | Gen, 2.3k, T+ | corpse au fic, outsider POV

Second Chances (may) | Gen, 1k, G | Pariah motive study

Never To Be (may) | Dark Ages, 1.1k, G | Cw yearning for Pariah

Stargazing (may) | Royal Family, 1.3k, G | Cw, Pariah, and Danny stargazing

Candlelight (may) | Royal Family/Dark Ages, 1.7k, T+ | Danny meddling to set up Cw and Pariah

One Another (may) | Lost Time, 1.2k, G | Start of Eldritch!Danny

Past, Present, Future (may) | Lost Time, 648, G | How people view time

You, Yours (may) | Dark Ages, 1k, G | Pariah's scars

Of You (may) | Dark Ages, 1k, T+ | Pariah dreams about Cw

Ceiling Stars (may) | Royal Family, 1.8k, G | Danny leaves to the GZ permanently

Of Trees and Teas (may) | Gen, 1.8k, G | Kitsune!Danny

Next To You (may) | Dark Ages, 1.5k, G | Rockstar au continuation

Caged (may) | Dark Ages, 745, T+ | Pariah catches Cw

On Ice (may) | Royal Family, 1.4k, G | Danny freezes Pariah by mistake

Feathers and Freedoms (may) | Dark Ages, 2.3k, G | wing au

Luck, or the Lack Thereof (may) | Gen, 1.4k, T+ | arena au, Danny forced to fight

Rainy Days (may) | Veggie Burger, past trio, 795, G | Danny misses Sam and Tucker

Fen's Origin | Gen, 4.6k, T+ | oc origin story fic

Irrefutably Human (bang fic) | Gen, 35k, G | Danny grows up in the GZ au

Brightest Burns (V2) | Dark Ages, 3.6k, T+ | Rockstar au continuation

Hellfire (ectober) | Dark Ages, 1.5k, T+ | based on the disney song :D

Escape (ectober) | Gen, 3.2k, T+ | oc fic, Fen and 31 escape the GIW

Kitsune au Preview (ectober) | Gen, 2.9k, G | preview of a longer kitsune au fic

Evermore | Gen, 1k, G | Danny loneliness character study

[pretentiouswreckingball]

loops babes!! do u perchance have a snip of ur About Time au u might care to share? *smiling so so sweetly batting eyelashes* <3

*blushes deeply, kneeling in front of you with my humble offer* only for you Sash, here’s an extract of chapter 7<3

“I can’t believe you managed to trap me into this,”

Lily clicks her tongue, “Remus, one night isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

It isn’t but he’s not going to admit that so he just gives her a side look as they stop when they reach the entrance. There are some people handing out brown paper bags with something inside and Remus immediately narrows his eyes suspiciously at the bag a guy offers him. Lily takes his before he can refuse and heads inside. He has not other choice but to trail after her.

“What's the bag for?” Remus asks as they find their seats near the stage.

Lily waves a hand dismissively, passing him the paper brown bag. “Oh, nothing you need to worry about now.”

As soon as he takes it, the bag makes a distinctive sound.

“Lily, my bag jingles, why does it jingle?”

“Remus, you’re ruining the experience!” she swats his hand away when he tries to open the bag. “Don’t open it, wait until the show starts.”

He purses his lips but lets the bag alone for the time being, instead, he let his eyes wonder. The amount of times he has been on a proper theather —without taking in consideration the dingy auditorium back at home where they show their high school plays— are few.

The place he’s in is quite lovely, relatively small for a theather and old, not enough room for a proper audience but big enough to have balconies; the details and the high ceilings makes it up for it or so he thinks.

As small as it is, it fills rather quickly but he doesn’t feel suffocated, it’s not a pack function so there are a few seats empty between the rows. Besides, Remus choose a aisle seat near to the closest exit. One will never now when a sudden fire can take place, you know. Best to be prepare.

Looking as his wristwatch there’s still three minutes until midnight for the show to start. Remus bitsback a yawn and turns to look at Lily but the former is in a chat with the person beside her.

Without her paying attention to him, Remus opens the bag as silent as possible and ruminates the contents, his curiosity taking the better of him; Remus finds a flashlight, a newspaper, a whistle, a bell and other knick-knacks. He frowns, looking up at Lily.

“Evans, why they gave us a bag with random things?” Lily turns to him and has the grace to look sheepish.

“Oh, maybe because the show is interactive?”

“What?” he panics, wide-eyed. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Because I knew you were going to freak out and you would’ve never agreed!”

Damn right, he wouldn’t.

“Damn right I wouldn’t!”

For lack of a better word, Remus is fucked.

[apocrypha73]

Masterpost of my Visupri fics

List of all the visupri fics (mostly sagamist, but there is some dimihyde too) I've written so far, in case someone is interested in checking them out.

(I'll try to update this post whenever I add a new one, but we shouldn't rule out the possibility that I might totally forget about it. I make no promises)

Edit: I've decided to lock all my fics for registered users only, because I'm concerned about them being scraped for AI training. I'm sorry for any inconveniences this may cause but I'd rather have less readers than contribute in any shape or form to this whole AI mess. Art should be made by humans, not soulless machines that can only regurgitate what they have previously stolen. If you don't have an AO3 account but you're interested in reading my fics, hmu and I'll send you an invite.

Main pairing: Saga Latour/Mist Flaive

Can't go back anymore (Rated E, 4.683 words). Post - Episode 7, Saga tries to reassure Mist that there's no reason to be ashamed of his very public love confession via song.

"Evil Vampire Daddy" series (2 fics):

As long as I have you (Rated M, 35.403 words. Warnings: discussions of psychological abuse and of suicide attempts). A sinister character from Saga's past shows up in Harajuku with the intention to destroy everything he has built for himself.

Home is where the heart is (Rated E, 3.640 words, basically a PWP). Bonus smut scene for As long as I have you.

Carry me through (Rated M, 3.611 words). Pre-relationship, blood drinking, hurt/comfort. Saga takes care of Mist during his transformation into a vampire.

Your Song (Rated T, 2.309 words). Episode related. At the recording studio from Episode 8, Lost Eden is working on their songs and now it's time for My Principal.

Take my hand, take my whole life too (Rated E, 53.265 words. Warnings: characters suffering from terminal/chronic illness). Human AU, single dad Saga / family lawyer Mist. Other background ships (please read the tags)

Bloodlust (Rated M, 4.954 words. Warnings: mind-altering substances, blood drinking). Saga gets dosed with something that makes him extremely hungry during a concert, and Mist takes it upon himself to make sure he doesn't bite any humans.

"Sagamist Birthday Fics" series (2 fics):

Make my wish come true (Rated T, 8.274 words). Carmilla shows up unexpectedly on the day of Saga's birthday, bringing chaos with her as usual.

The floor of Heaven's lain with stars of brightest gold (Rated E, 9.020 words). It's Mist's birthday, and Saga has prepared a very special celebration for him.

"Love means not a single braincell in sight" series (2 fics):

The bittersweet taste of victory (Rated M, 13.617 words). Jack challenges Robin to get to know Saga better, convinced that he will change his mind about him. It seems to work really well, but it also gives way to some misunderstandings.

The courtship of Mist Flaive (Rated M, 8.798 words). After the events of the first fic of the series, Saga is determined to make things right and show Mist that his feelings are real. The problem is he doesn't really know a lot about how to seduce someone.

Baby, it's cold outside (Rated E, 31.853 words). Human AU. Basically your typical Christmas romcom movie: young successful professional from the big city (Mist) gets stranded for the holidays in a small town where he will meet the love of his life (Saga).

Birds of a feather (Rated G, 4.973 words). Pre-relationship. Mist gets his wings and Saga helps him learn how to handle them.

And Together We'll Go On Through Time (Rated E, 13.762 words). Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Death of a Parent, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Getting Together, Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood Drinking. Saga gets some painful news and Mist is there to help him deal with it.

Creature of the night (Rated E, 10.408 words). Alternate Universe, Gothic, Strangers to Lovers, Blood Drinking, Mildly Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Top Saga/Bottom Mist

There's a scar right through my heart but I'll bare it again (Rated G, 4.059 words). Pre-Relationship, Late Night Conversations, Supernatural Bonds, Awkward Flirting. Mist and Saga discuss the nature of their bond.

Main pairing: Hyde Jayer/Dimitri Romanee

Don't Fear the Wolf (Rated E, 5.455 words. Warnings: graphic depictions of violence). Set during WWII. Hyde, Dimitri and Guil work for the French Resistance.

The Importance of Aerobics (Rated E, 4.410 words. PWP, Dom/Sub, Dom bottom Hyde and Sub top Dimitri. With some attempts at humor)

[big-brainrot-hours]

Reply to: @nicebonescomrade on my post about wanting to talk about sagau with someone

Hey hey! I love ur work but i can’t follow u from here (bc this is a side blog) but i follow from my main! ANYWAY I've taken this as my chance to dump a bunch of headcnaons out (as I would if I had friends) so here it is!!

Also I got a bit excited and got kinda carried away, so this got a bit longer than I meant it to be lmao

Warnings: SAGAU, mentions of blood and abuse, general sagau warnings

Headcanons under the cut

Zhongli may consider himself the most devoted acolyte, but really it’s Xiao. As I wrote in my last fic, Xiao was the last one to feel the creator’s light and warmth before they left Teyvat, and he was the first one to sense it again when they arrived, regardless of whether they arrived in Liyue or not.

In my lore, the reason people want visions so badly is not just because of the powers they may get, but also because having a vision means you have a higher chance of the creator themselves noticing you. This is based on how all the playable characters have visions of some sort.

In this Teyvat, having a vision also brings you closer to the creator because, although the stars guide everyone's paths, only vision holders have their own personal constellations.

When the god (player) rolls constellations for a character in real life, the stars in a character’s constellation in the sky of Teyvat will glow visibly brighter. In my sagau, Xiao’s constellation is currently the brightest in the sky, and that is reflected in how his hair, eyes, and the markings under his clothes glow. (This is because, as of writing this, I have him at c5. I could’ve gotten him to c6 if I didn’t also roll 2 Qiqis and a Diluc during his first banner 😔. I WILL be getting his c6 during his rerun tho.)

OKAY SO I love, love, l o v e the thought of the creator bleeding gold, but I also love the imposter aus, and it doesn’t make much sense to have both of those together? Because they would totally notice if darling bled gold. SO what if instead, their blood fresh out of their body is red, but it doesn’t turn gold until it starts to dry?

With that said, imagine the archon’s horror when they finally track down the "imposter" only to find them laying in a pool of liquid gold, and they finally notice that the cuts and scars and bleeding wounds are drying gold? How horrified would the people be if they went to clean the imposter's filthy blood off the walls to prevent it from staining their cities any further, only to see their own terrified expressions reflected back at them in the gold?

Okay, so this is gonna be what, the third time I’ve mentioned Xiao? And my third sagau post, and he’s been in all three of them? But it doesn’t matter; he’s my favorite, and naturally, this au will be influenced by my experiences anyway- In my sagaus, unless it’s a version that specifically says otherwise, Xiao will ALWAYS recognize the creator. He was born with the creator’s warmth and light, he’s felt it for as long as he could remember, and he remembers it better than most. However, as I wrote about in my other post, there was a time he didn’t remember. There was a time where he couldn’t remember his god’s name, or even their existence. And the first thing he did after being freed from Osial’s control was relearning all the prayers he had forgotten and trying everything to remember the feeling of his god’s light. He spent so long relearning everything about his god that he couldn't forget them again. So no matter what, no matter how much all the other nations call darling an imposter, Xiao knows. He forgot you once, and he refuses to let it happen again.

The reason all the "monsters" in the game can recognize Darling as their god when the others can’t is because they’re more humble. The people of Teyvat, although recognizing their god is higher than them, are still very entitled. They believe that wealth and offerings, monuments and statues are what’s going to please the god. They expect their god to give them a grand show when they enter Teyvat, some sort of sight of gold and light or whatever. So when their creator, a being of kindness and humility, appears before them as a normal ass human, they refuse to accept it, and are quicker to call them an imposter than an actual god. The monsters don’t have this mindset. They (and xiao and the people of Khaenri'ah) know that the creator doesn’t care about wealth or who has the nicest shrine or altar or whatever. The creator doesn’t care if you call them by some fancy title, they just care that you welcome them with open arms and extend kindness to others where you can. So the monsters are a lot more chill about it. (Xiao’s a bit in the middle of both, although the reason he isn’t as chill about it as he used to be is not because of human influence, but rather due to the trauma he has endured and the belief that he has to earn his god’s forgiveness, as if it was his fault that what happened to him happened. I’ll probably make him another post for that alone lmao)

Wow this sure is turning into a Xiao post huh lmao. Anyway, when they (the other adepti and the yakshas) agreed to a contract with Morax, one of the points of the contract was that if the creator ever entered Teyvat, their orders were to be ranked above Morax’s. So even if what the creator asked them to do was in direct violation of the contract, they could still follow it through because it’s more important. HOWEVER, this was never an issue for Xiao. Xiao is not loyal to Morax, Liyue, or even the other yakshas. He is loyal to his god and his god alone. Nobody else will ever take precedence over them, and he will never swear his allegiance to another being, because it is only reserved for his god. Because of this, in my sagau, Xiao doesn’t have an official contract with Morax and just does what he asks if he feels like his god would appreciate it.

Speaking of Khaenri'ah, the people of Khaenri'ah did not have a god ruling directly over them, so they learned to develop technology themselves. They still revere the creator and hold them in higher regard than all other beings, of course, but they also see their lack of a ruling god as a gift. It was the creator's way of allowing them a chance to learn independence and to not over rely on higher powers to handle everything for them. Because of this, they recognize that the creator would not really care about huge, grand displays of worship but is rather more chill. After all, if the god of gods cared about extreme shows of worship, wouldn’t they take the chance to rule the nation without a god themselves instead of leaving them godless?

Hhhhhh that’s all I’ve got for now, but if u (or anyone else) has thoughts I would love to hear them!!!!! This au is quickly turning into one of my favorites lmao

[wonderingboat]

some sudden thoughts about Eärendil and Elwing……

1. The Vingilot in the night sky, will look like a lamp or a lantern holding by the wind, and Eärendil is the candle, or lamp wick, burning himself in the darkest night.

And I was listening to the song Scared of the Dark, and the lyrics feel just right:

I'm not scared of the dark. I'm not running, running, running, no,

I'm not afraid of the fall. I'm not scared, not at all

Why would a star, a star ever be afraid of the dark?

And i think of another scentence, "If there is no torch, I will be the only light."

2. Readin some fic or post before, but I can not recall clearly, there could be scars on his body, fromthe whole long voyage and all the fight in between. When Eärendil come to Valinor, we all know he was covered by the dust of diamonds, those dust will be left in his scars, all his wound just shine like light leakage from inside of his body, more wound he has, more bright he will be.

The brightest star.

3. Since Eärendil has been designed to be a star before the concept of the Silmarils, I start to think, maybe in the end he,only he will be the light on the boat—— after the long voyage in the sky, the light in the gem just transfer into his body, the light of two trees used to be preserved by the stone, now they find a more warm and pleasant place to stay in, a soft heart, an unbreakable mind, a living thing.

………… but since there will be The Last Battle, when the light of the three gems needs to be released, to bring back the two trees, then every piece of light will be needed, oh, our beloved star……

He will smile, his bright blue eyes are so gentle yet with no hesitation or doubt, he will willingly give himself to this quest, just as before, he gave up himself to be a sign of hope. There will be no more Eärendil the mariner, no more golden haired sailor in the sky, only the light of Two Trees of Valinor come back again, shine fairly on everyone.

It will be a perfect end.

4. Elwing is not with Eärendil on daily sky tour for she might not endure the cold and the pathless voids……how？She used to be the wings of the storm and cross the whole ocean. Maybe that has exhausted her vitality, or maybe because she never fully recovered from her wound.

After all, she jump from a cliff in war time, there is no reason to not believe that she has already been wound then…… by fire, by stone, by a sword, by an arrow, or several arrows.

A shinning sign on the high place, it will be so easy to aim at, so irresistible to follow, a good strategy to lead away the enemy, to attract their attention to her rather than other refugees.

She fell into the sea, maybe also because she knew she would not be able to stay any longer, she could barely stand stright then, blood on her white dress…… and that was the last thing she could do.

[f0rever15elf]

Twin Souls

Summary: Soulmates. Twin souls. They’re the stuff of legends, right? They aren’t real...Or are they? And if they are...can they really span universes? 

Pairing: Pero/Whiskey/Oberyn/Din/Max/Maxwell/Dave/Catfish/Marcus/Ezra x fem!Reader  (yes, ALL of those Pedro boys are in this fic at some point. I’m overly indulgent)  Rating: M  Warning: Harsh language, sexual innuendo, death mentions, violence, injured reader, a little bit of angst (for the spice), way too many pedro characters in one fic, no beta reading. Soulmates!AU Word count: 9,649 (lord help me) 

a/n: This was inspired by a post that literally just mentioned our favorite soulmate trope that through any universe, two souls will find one another and I just think that’s really beautiful and NEEDED TO GET IT OUT OF MY BRAIN. So I hope you enjoy this! 

Masterlist |  Ao3

Twin Souls. Mirror souls. Soulmates. Twin flames. Almost every culture has their own rendition of this idea that each of us has another half that we are created with and separated from before we come into this life. Someone we are destined to find as surely as the river finds the sea. Some legends claim it was that we all originate with four arms, four legs, two heads, and one soul that shone brighter than the brightest of stars in the sky, and this drew jealousy from the gods who then wrent us in two. For others, it is destiny calling two individuals together, the universe declaring that two must become one. And even simpler still, some believe that it is no more than a chemical attraction. Something purely physical, biological, and nothing more. A perfect mate.

But what if? 

What if it was more than that. So much more. What if two souls were always destined to find one another? Across time and space and universes? What if...

Lightning cracks the sky, momentarily illuminating the face of the man on horseback. His scowl, as always, is firmly in place, his brow creased in a mix of irritation and exasperation. The rain has his dark, curled hair slicked down against his skull and his tunic under his armor is soaked through, drawing the warmth rapidly from his skin. He had told William they should make camp, that the smell of rain on the wind meant for foul weather, and soon, but William had ignored the grumpy Spaniard, electing to press on. Not twenty minutes later, the heavens opened, drenching the small caravan as they continued on. William rode silently in front of Pero, and he could feel the glare from his companion boring holes into the back of his head. If looks could kill, he would be dead several times over. 

"I see lights ahead!" Calls the lookout from up ahead, and a satisfied chatter rolls through the group of sellswords. Pero lifts his chin only slightly to look ahead, jaw clenched, eyes alert. He had seen enough in his days selling his sword to know what to look for, and a small village in the middle of nowhere was always a gamble. 

As the small group rides up to the edge of the village, a few of the village's men wait to greet them, lanterns out to welcome them to the town. The group of sellswords dismount as William goes to speak with the man Pero can only assume is the village leader. After a few words, William turns with a smile, moving through the group to tell them they would be making camp here tonight, bunking with members of the small community. The welcoming committee leads each man off to a different house, and had it not been for the rain still steadily downpouring, a dull chatter would have filled the air as the guests were welcomed with more hospitality than many of them were used to. 

"And you, my friend, will be staying with us!" The village leader approaches Pero with a smile. "Come, my daughter will help to get you dry. This cold will seep to your bones and you will fall ill. Come. Come." The friendly elder makes his way to a small, comfortable hut, a warm fire blazing in the center. The crackling of the logs is a welcome sound to Pero's ears, and the smell of something savory fills his nostrils. The men had been living on rations for days, and Pero Tovar was sick of the hardtack and salt pork he carried with him. The elder introduces him to his family; a wife, a young son, and you, his only daughter. As soon as his eyes land on you, Pero feels a warm sensation spread through his stomach, one he had never felt before, and he finds it difficult to tear his eyes from yours as the man of the house begins speaking again, telling him that their house is his for the night. He manages to utter out a word of gratitude before you approach him, taking his hand to lead him to get cleaned up. 

"It is not often our village has visitors," you murmur softly as you help him to doff his armor. "Most pass us by without so much as a second glance." Your smile causes that heat in his stomach to spread upwards through his chest, and up his neck. Such a foreign feeling... "Perhaps it is fate that brought you here, to us. I must thank fate, if that is the case, for bringing such a handsome man to my home." You laugh softly and it is a sweeter sound than any music the Spaniard has ever heard, light and gentle as the bluebird's song on the spring breeze. Pero's heart throbs in his chest at the sound. 

"Sí, señorita. A thanks to fate for bringing me here." His eyes never leave your face and the tips of your ears turn red from the attention. His gaze was steady, with a hard edge of a man who had seen too much. After finishing doffing his armor, you help to ease him out of his wet tunic, and your heart stutters in your chest. Your gaze drifts from his torso back to his face, and your hand moves as if with a mind of its own, lifting to rest on his face. The soft pads of your fingers gently trace the scar over his eye. There was...something so familiar about him, but you had no idea what it was.  Like you had seen this man before, someone who was him...yet not him. The thought confused you and you shook it from your head. That was impossible. 

---

Your eyes snap open from the strange dream and you sit up in bed, rubbing your face. A man who looked so much like your Jack had been haunting your dreams for days now, and you had absolutely no idea what it could mean. Jack stirs beside you, letting out a soft groan as he stretches. 

"Darlin'? You alright? It's awful early for you to be up." He glances over at the clock on the nightstand. 3:30 am, early was an understatement. His hand finds the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles against the skin there. You hum and nod your head. 

"Just...weird dreams Jack. That's all." You turn your head and smile down at him and he makes a concerned sound at the back of his throat. 

"Wanna talk about it, sweetheart?" Your heart melted at the concern, and you ease yourself back down, laying in his arms. 

"It doesn't make much sense, really. You'll probably think I'm crazy." His arm holds you a little closer to him and he chuckles. 

"Try me." A smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you take a deep breath. 

"Well...if you say so. I've been dreaming of a person. It's...this guy. He looks so much like you, and he has a scar right here." You delicately trace the line of the scar from the mystery man in your dreams. "And his face is weathered and serious. He's always scowling. I have no idea but it's like it's you but it isn't you. But it's more like... a faded memory than a dream. It's crazy, I know." Jack is quiet as he listens to you, his fingers still tracing delicate patterns on your skin. 

"I...don't think you're crazy, sweetheart." You blink, honestly shocked as you look up at him. He's staring up at the ceiling, a contemplative look on his face. "I've had dreams like that too. Ones of you. Or, well, a girl who looks almost exactly like you." Propping yourself up on your elbow, you look down at him, that handsome, lopsided smile on his face.

"You're not pulling my leg to appease me, are you?" 

"Now darlin', when have I ever done that to you?" He had a point. His silver tongue worked magic in many ways, but spinning lies to appease you was not one of those ways. Your brow creases as you lose yourself in your thoughts of what this could mean until a whip-calloused finger smooths the lines between your brows. "You ever heard 'a soulmates, sweetness?" The question strikes you as rather odd, something out of a fairy tale, but you nod. "I'm thinkin' that may be our answer." His arm wraps around you and he pulls you back against him. "Lovers truly meant to be." Gentle lips press light kisses to your forehead, his moustache tickling the skin and drawing a giggle from you. 

"Do you really think that, Jack? That we've met before?" 

"Well it would explain how we fell in with one another quicker than a jackrabbit with a fox on its tail. Now, I know my charm is absolutely irresistible, but I don't think I can take all the credit here." He grins and you can't help the laugh that bubbles from your throat, smacking his chest lightly. You had to admit...it made sense. In some weird, metaphysical sense that you weren't quite sure you completely believed. But Jack believed it, and that was enough for you. It also meant you could stop feeling guilty about these dreams of this mysterious Spaniard. 

"So this dream girl. What's she like?" You ask, snuggling into Jack's embrace. He shakes his head and laughs. 

"What, you jealous of yourself, gorgeous? C'mon now, you get to ride this cowboy any time you like, ain't no need to be jealous of a dream of you." You gasp and smack his chest, cheeks flushing red as you hide against his chest. He chuckles and lavishes a few gentle kisses to the top of your head, snuggling down in bed with you. 

"Jack?" 

"Hmm?" 

"I love you." 

"I love you too, doll. Now close those pretty eyes of yours and get some sleep." 

And you did just that, slowly drifting off to dreamland. 

--- 

"Hellloooooo!" Cara snapped her fingers in front of your face and you jumped, coming back to reality. "You know, you really freak me out when you do that." She leans back in her chair, a cup of spotchka in one hand, her lopsided smirk on her face. You cough, and scratch at the back of your neck. 

"Yeah...sorry about that." She just shakes her head.

"Where do you go when you zone out like that? Takes me forever to bring you back around."  You just shrug, staring down at your bowl of soup. 

"Day dreams, I guess. I can't really describe them. I see faces though. Well, a couple of faces anyways. Two men who look shockingly similar and-" Cara cuts you off with a wave of her hand. 

"Sweets, I don't need to hear about your depraved day dreams." Her coy grin in your direction causes your face to flush a bright red at the insinuation and you make a move to reply when she goes rigid in her chair, setting her cup down with a little more force than necessary. Your brow creases in confusion, even more so when she stands and grabs your hand, quickly and quietly leading you out back. "Stay here," she hisses, moving slowly around front, leaving you confused and alone. And hungry. You had been so busy day dreaming you didn't even get the chance to finish your soup. A frown pulls at the corners of your lips as you hop up on a box out back, kicking your legs as you wait for your friend. 

The sounds of fighting reach your ears a few minutes later and you jump up, running towards the sound, skidding to a halt when you round the corner to see Cara fighting with a person decked out in some of the shiniest armor you had ever seen. You open your mouth to say something when a small green creature walks out of the cantina, a bowl of soup in his tiny hands. He looks up at you and tilts his head before turning to walk a little closer to your skirmishing friend. You follow as both the armored figure and Cara end up on the ground, a blaster pointed at Cara's head. You're about to run forward to try and yank the blaster away when the sound of slurping distracts you. Looking down, you see the little green thing slurping up his soup, watching with a borderline uninterested look. The helmeted figure and Cara turn to look at you both before looking back at each other. 

"...Want some soup?" The helmeted man says through what was clearly a modulator. 

That was your first encounter with Din Dajrin, and you had no clue that that one day would lead to you aboard the Razor Crest, babysitting the little green creature he had taken in, and fixing things around the ship as they broke. You had never seen his face, nor much of his skin save for when you were patching him up from a particularly rough hunt, but that was okay. Life on the Crest was comfortable, and even in the silence that Din preferred to keep, you felt at home. His presence was enough to calm you on your more anxious days. The two of you grew close quickly. Quicker than you or he had expected, and it wasn't long before he was gracing you with idle affections. Light caresses as he passes you, his hand lingering on yours for longer than necessary, gently tucking stray hairs back behind your ear as you talk to him. Each little thing never failed to bring heat to your cheeks. 

It was at the anniversary of your first cycle together that Din asked you to marry him. He had taken the three of you to a peaceful, lush planet to ask you. Some place safe and reclusive, a place where neither of you had to worry about anything. He wanted you as a part of his little clan, and your heart nearly burst with affection as you rapidly shook your head, wiping away the tears. The tradition was simple, a marriage a sacred vow between the Mandolorian and their spouse. It was a promise to bind the two as one. A few simple words was all it took, and he was yours. He brought your hands to his helmet to let you lift it off, the moment unable to be any more perfect than this. 

And that's when the blaster sounded. You freeze as your eyes go wide, slowly looking down to your chest where bright crimson starts to bleed through the material of your tunic. You look back up at him with glassy eyes and stumble forward into his grasp, only vaguely aware of more blaster fire, then total silence. Din lays you down on the soft grass, yanking his helmet off, and oh how you wish you could see his face clearly. You make out dark curls atop tan skin, dark eyes looking at you with such concern and fear, desperation...a look you couldn’t bring your eyes to focus enough to make out. Everything is fading so quickly. You can't hear his voice, only ringing. You were so sure he had a beautiful voice, it's a shame you wouldn't get to hear it free of modulation. Lifting your hand, you place it weakly against his cheek, sputtering out "I love you...find me in the next..." With that, the last of your strength leaves you, your hand dropping from his face as your head lolls to the side, eyes staring blankly off into the distance. 

Din lets out a cry of anguish as he pulls your lifeless form against him, sobbing into your hair. How could fate be so cruel? 

--

Ezra shoots up ramrod straight in bed, gasping for air like a man drowning. A cold sweat clings to his skin, an afterthought of the nightmare that disturbed his sleep once more. He rubs his face, taking a deep breath before looking over at his time keeper. Two standard hours before his alarm... The sigh that leaves his lips is deep and heavy as he swings his legs over the side of his cot. Might as well get an early start on the day. There was no going back after that awful dream, and he could use the couple extra hours anyways. Mining with only one hand, everything took twice as long and was done half as well, so the extra time would give him a little leg-up on the day. Heavens above, he could use another set of hands around here. With Cee off at school, he was all on his own, and it was getting damn lonely. Working his way into his suit with a little bit of difficulty, he made the resolution to put out an ad for help the next time he went to the Depot to drop off a shipment. 

And so he spent the day, mining and singing and talking to himself. Anyone else who saw him would surely think this one-armed man was crazy, but little did they know that talking to himself is exactly what kept him sane. He could move up the Depot visit. Yeah, that's what he would do. He'd need to go in the next week anyways, so why not just do it now? He resolved to head on the next day to the Depot, and he'd put out that add for some help. 

The next day's trek was blessedly uneventful. The cash-in post scoffed at what little aurelac he had accrued so far, and the tips of his ears turned pink in embarrassment. He mutters a thank you for the credits exchange, and makes his way to the bulletin board to put in his ad. A single figure is standing in front of the board, a pack slung over their shoulder, miner's tools hanging off their belt. 

"Pardon me," he says softly, scooting by them without looking at their face to pin up his ad. He turns to head back to his buggy to return to work, hopeful he would hear something over his coms soon. 

"Sir?" A gentle voice calls from behind him and he freezes in place, his heartbeat suddenly incredibly loud in his ears. He knew that voice. That was the voice that had been in his nightmares over and over again. Find me in the next... He slowly turns to look at who had called him to see you standing there, looking exactly as you did in his dreams. But alive...so much more alive.  You smile up at him, gentle and warm, with a light of concern in your eyes, and he has to resist the urge to run to you and pull you into his arms. "I say...you look like you've seen a ghost! Are you alright?" Ezra's mouth opens and closes a few times, not unlike a fish before he's able to find his words again. 

"Y..Yes, I'm alright. Not to worry, gem, it's just been a rather arduous day is all, and I'm beginning to feel the effects taking hold. Pardon my rudeness." A gentlemanly smile graces his lips as he extends his hand to you. "The name is Ezra. How might you be doing this fine day?" You chuckle and take his hand, shaking it firmly. What an odd fellow this was. 

"It's a pleasure, Ezra. And the answer to this next question will set my mood for the day, I'm sure. You're in need of a helper at your dig site?" He nods enthusiastically. 

"I most certainly am! What a matter of fortune that I happen to stumble upon someone ready and willing to assist me the very day I come to place my ad!" 

"Ready and willing is right! I just arrived on the surface. Took a gamble someone would be needing my help, and it appears I've come out on top!" Your smile is infectious, and Ezra returns it, just as brilliantly. It lights up his eyes, you notice. Warm, chocolate brown eyes that glimmer with a playfulness that excites you. 

"Perhaps you can impart some of that luck on to me as we begin this partnership." He leads you back to his buggy to take you back to camp, loading up on some extra supplies as well with his meager earnings that would be needed with an extra mouth to feed. "Might you be the lucky star that this poor man has been waiting for!" You can't help but chuckle at the eccentric miner. His manner of speaking was so strikingly different from anyone you had met before. Words rolled off his lips sweet as nectar, and the sound of his voice bordered on intoxicating. 

"Make a wish, and we'll see." You laugh, flashing him a wink. The two of you spend the rest of the ride talking, swapping stories of your previous adventures. Ezra's charm has you instantly at ease. It felt comfortable and familiar to be near him, and you couldn't quite explain it. 

As you return to his camp and make your way inside, helping to unload, you do your best to help ease some of Ezra's burden. It was clear he was trying to show that his lack of an arm was no deterrent for him, but you worried he would hurt himself in the process. 

"Here, I've got it," You say softly, taking an oxygen tank from him as he stumbled a bit, nearly dropping the canister. He looks up at you with those soulful brown eyes and your heart stutters in your chest. He nods and lets you take it inside as he grabs the last few small things from the buggy, following you in. His helmet hisses as he takes it off, slowly peeling himself out of his suit, and you do the same, folding yours up in the corner before standing awkwardly in the center of the hab until he's done. Dropping the offending article in the middle of the tent, he sighs and plops down on his cot, patting next to him for you to join. Happily, you do so, crossing your legs under you. 

"Forgive me, lucky star, for my lacking capabilities. I am not the man I once was..." He gestures to the stump of his right arm, a pained look in his eyes. You place your hand on his thigh and flash a reassuring smile. 

"Ezra, there is nothing to forgive. I'm here to help in whatever way you may need me to. We're partners, and partners help each other." He glances at you sideways, a smile gracing his lips at the pain fades in his eyes. 

"Lucky star, I feel you may be imparting some of your luck on to me already. What plans the universe may have for us is an adventure I'm eager to embark on." You laugh and nod, squeezing his thigh once before getting up to start making your side of the hab. 

And so the days go on. Long days spent mining as much aurelac as possible while the light provided, before getting cleaned up for the night. Evenings were usually spent listening to one of Ezra's fantastic tales, or listening to him read a book from his small collection. More and more you found yourself leaning against him, your eyelids heavy with sleep as his honey rich voice drawled on. It reverberated in his chest in a way that soothed you more than anything else had in the galaxy. But the good days were over too soon as mining season came to a close on the Green, and you found yourself facing Ezra in the Depot, the two of you ready to depart for your next jobs. The ache in your heart was unlike anything you had ever felt, having grown so fond of the loquacious miner. 

You opened your mouth to say goodbye, to just rip the band-aid off, when he spoke over you. 

"Come with me." The sentence was near a plea as he reached out to take your hand. Your eyes opened wide at his words, your mouth falling slightly open.

"W..what?" 

"Come with my, my lucky little star... I can't imagine a life without you at this point, the comfort you bring me is beyond anything even the most luxurious of lifestyles could bring me." He squeezes your hand again. "Come with me...please..." You knew you couldn't, you knew you needed to head to your next journey, but the thought of doing so felt so wrong, as though your heart might explode if you tried...so you nod, and Ezra's eyes light up with a joy the likes of which you had never seen. He tugs your hand and pulls you to him, embracing you as best he can with his one arm, and nuzzles into your hair. You wrap your own arms around him to return the hug, sinking into the embrace that could only be described as feeling...right. You almost missed it as he whispered against your hair, "I found you..." You lean back, confusion in your eyes as you look up at him. 

"...Found me?" You whisper and he smiles, dropping the embrace to take your hand and lead you toward his shuttle. 

"If you would indulge me in some time to tell you a story, I can explain everything, lucky little star." 

---

Your bare feet hit the pavement with loud slaps, legs propelling you forwards as fast as you could. Your lungs burned in your chest as you panted for air, not daring to look back over your shoulder for who you knew was following you. How had you managed to be so stupid, so careless? How could you have managed to get yourself involved in this? 

"Get back here!" He yelled, his deep voice causing another shot of adrenaline to course through your bloodstream. He was going to kill you. Oh God, he was going to kill you! Tears stream down your face as you run, ducking into every alleyway you could, trying to elude him, but he had been doing this too long. He was good at covering his tracks, and you were a loose end he couldn't afford. You being alive jeopardized his life with his family. 

You turn down another alley and your heart plummets when you are met with a stone wall, skidding to a halt in front of it. You hear his heavy footfalls behind you and you turn, falling to your knees. Maybe...maybe if you beg, he'll spare you? 

Dave rounds the corner, and you hear the soft click of the safety of his silenced handgun. He stalks forward like a lion stalks an antelope and you have never in your life felt so small. 

"You're a fast little she-devil, I'll give you that. It was a good chase." He stands in front of you as you begin to beg, pleading for your life. You'd move away, you'd forget everything. You'd change your name and cut contact with everyone, please just don't pull the trigger. "No can do, sweetheart. Can't risk it." He brings the gun up level with your forehead as you look up into his eyes, begging still, trembling with terror. For a moment, you see a light of recognition in his eyes, a light that looks so familiar it makes your heart ache. Visions of a space suit, an angry scar, a metal suit, and a cowboy hat all flash through your mind in rapid succession as the light registered somewhere deep in your subconscious. 

Then, with the sound of a gunshot, everything vanishes. 

--- 

"NO PLEASE STOP!" You shriek in your sleep, thrashing around in your shared bed, waking the man beside you. He startles, sitting up and pulling you upright, shaking you gently to try and wake you from your night terror. You had been having them more  and more recently, and he was starting to get really concerned. Terrified eyes snap open, tears starting to streak down your face as you caught his eyes and immediately begin trying to get away from him, your body still full of adrenaline. "Let me go!" You screamed, fighting to get away from those eyes. Those damn eyes were exactly the same. 

"Shhh shhh, cariña, calm down it was just a night terror, you're safe." That voice...that voice wasn't the same. That voice was so much kinder and softer than the one in your dream and you grow still in his arms, nervously looking back at the one holding you. Your terrified stare was met with the warmest chocolate eyes you had ever seen, full of nothing but love and concern for you as he held you. 

"F-Frankie...?" you ask, barely above a whisper, and he nods. You tremble in his hold as you choke out a sob, falling into his embrace. "I-I'm s-s-sorry Frank-kie! I-It was s-so b-bad this t-time," you managed to choke out between sobs. Frankie’s gentle fingers run through your hair in an attempt to soothe you as he coos gently to you, swaying back and forth with you. His sleep shirt was clutched in your fists as you sobbed against him. 

"It's alright cariña, I'm here, I've got you and you're safe. Nothing is going to get you, I promise." His voice is deep and rich, sleep still painting the edges of it as he holds you and whispers soothing words to you. How lucky could you be to have a man like Francisco Morales to call your own? He was so patient with you, even when these night terrors plagued you seemingly non-stop. 

As your sobs turn to sniffles, he carefully looks down at you. "Was it the same dream, amor?" he asks softly, nervous to startle you, and you nod weakly. 

"Being chased and cornered by a man with a gun...who looked like a sleazy businessman version of you... But his eyes were hard and angry and his voice was so cold." You look up at him with still watery eyes and he delicately wipes your cheek of any errant tears. "I hate this." 

"I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm sorry, I would do anything to help those dreams stop." His hold tightens around you. He was angry. Angry he couldn't protect you from this. Angry that for some reason your mind was using his face to torture you. Angry that you could get no respite from these horrible visions in your mind. With closed eyes, he nuzzles into your hair, placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes slip closed as you slowly relax into Frankie's hold, your heart rate slowing to a more normal rate as the flood of adrenaline clears your bloodstream, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Frankie coaxes you to bed again, holding you as close to him as he can, hoping his presence will somehow help to deter the nightmares. 

In the morning, you wake to the smell of bacon and the feeling of an empty bed. You sit up and stretch before rubbing your eyes and yawning. Damn, your head and eyes hurt from the crying last night. Stupid nightmare... With a shake of your head, you move to get up to go get some medicine when you notice two Tylenol and a glass of water sitting on the nightstand. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, knowing Frankie had left them out for you, and you take them, deciding to stay in bed a few more minutes and wait for Frankie. Your decision pays off when the door opens and Frankie walks in, a bed tray with pancakes, bacon, and a tall glass of chocolate milk in his hands. 

"Morning amor. How are you feeling? I made your favorite blueberry pancakes." The smile that graces your lips he returns as he sets the tray across your lap before tucking a loose strand of hair back in place behind your ear, joining you on the bed. 

"I'm alright as I can be. Tired of these stupid night terrors...I feel like I haven't slept in days." Leaning over, you press a quick kiss to his cheek before picking up a fork, digging in. The moan that leaves your lips borders on sinful as you taste the pancakes. Frankie's cooking always did amaze you. He chuckles as he leans back against the headboard, watching you. 

"I'm glad you like the food." You nod with a smile and continue eating, content with the silence for now. That is, until a burning question bubbles to the forefront of your thoughts. "Frankie...have...have you ever had a dream...about a girl who looked like me?" The question comes softly from your lips, as if you are nervous to even ask it. It seemed so silly hearing it out loud. 

"No, I can't say I have...but the day I met you, I could have sworn I had met you before. But there was no possible way that could have been." His voice is contemplative, and when you turn to look at him He's looking off to nowhere, lost in thought. 

"What do you mean you could have sworn you've met me before?" He blinks a few times and looks back at you, shrugging. 

"Everything about you was familiar. Your eyes, your laugh, your smile. Hell, even the way you stood, one hip cocked and your hand resting on it...It was all just so familiar, like I had met you a long time ago. Weird, I know." 

"I'm the one having dreams about a guy who looks like a douche bag version of you trying to kill me, and you think familiarity is weird?" A pink tint creeps up his cheeks as he sputters out a reply. 

"W-well when you put it that way..." You chuckle and shake your head, chasing a blueberry around your plate with your fork. 

"Maybe...we have met before...just not...here." If he didn't think you were crazy before, he certainly would now. 

"What, like a soulmate? A past life?" You nod, not looking up. You didn't want to see him looking at you like you were crazy. "Now that's an idea...it would explain a lot, wouldn't it?" Another nod, and his hand reaches around to lift your chin, turning your face to him. A gentle smile graces his beautiful face and you can't help but return it. "If that's the case, then I'm glad I found you again, soulmate." The giggle that escapes your lips only helps to widen his smile before he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. 

==

You had heard great things of the Prince of Dorne. The Red Viper, Oberyn Martell. He was as fearsome as he was gentle. Ruthless as he was loving. His skills with poisons and fighting spears were unmatched, as was his sexual appetite. Or so you had heard. King's Landing was always full of whispers and rumors, so much so that it was hard to know just what was fact, and what was fiction. Not that it mattered, the rumors never affected you. You kept your head down, and did as you were told, assisting the Lanisters whenever need be. It was the best way to stay out of trouble, and to ensure your head stayed rightfully upon your shoulders. 

But why all of the hubbub about Prince Oberyn all of a sudden? Have you missed an announcement? Cersei would have your head on a pike before the candles melted through if you embarrassed her by forgetting to outfit a chamber. A cold sweat breaks out over your skin and your heart races in your chest at the thought, your feet carrying you swiftly down the halls in search of Tyrion. He would know what was going on. 

You find the man talking with his guard, and clear your throat softly as you approach, hands folded respectfully in front of you. Their conversation drops as Tyrion looks to you with a smile. 

"Forgive my interruption, but I have heard many more whispers today than usual of The Red Viper of Dorne... Have...Have I missed a notice to prepare an extra chamber...?" Tyrion shakes his head and comes over to place a hand over your folded ones. 

"Fear not, you've missed nothing. The chambers were already prepared for his visit." The tension melts from your shoulders and you nod, bowing your head before standing upright again. 

"Thank you for informing me. I shall return to my duties then. Good day." You turn quickly as Tyrion bids you farewell, resuming your duties as needed.

The fight was the only thing anyone in the halls discussed. Oberyn was to champion for Tyrion in trial by combat with The Mountain. The whole of King's Landing was to attend to spectate, including the workers through the castle. It had been a long time since the walls buzzed with such energy, and you followed along quietly to the viewing stand reserved for the chambermaids. Perhaps you would now see if the words of the great Red Viper of Dorne were true. You watch with baited breath as he strides into the arena, his armor light, a fighting spear in his grip that he twirls with such grace it takes your breath away. His smile is confident, bordering on cocky, and you feel a twinge of fear for him. He was so small...The Mountain would crush him.

The fight was certainly something to behold, and for a moment, it seemed as though Oberyn's dexterity would win him the match. Till the tables turned... It was a gruesome sight, The Mountain was known well for his utter brutality. The cries of pain from the prince under his grip tore at your heart, and when his skull finally gave, painting the arena red, something inside you broke. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your hand covering your gaping mouth as your heart ached in your chest. 

You had never met this man, and yet at the witnessing of his death, it felt as if you had lost a part of yourself.

--

"An intern? A FUCKING intern? What the fuck do I need with an intern?!" Maxwell stood from his desk, pacing behind it, a hand in his pocket while the other rubbed at his face. "I’m so close, SO CLOSE, to having the world in the palm of my hand, and you want me to take on AN INTERN?!" He snapped at the poor secretary who stood in the center of the room, trembling in her high heels. 

"M-Mr. Lord...A-appearances are everything, sir, and I believe taking on an intern would brighten your appearance in the public eye even more so. She would be none the wiser, and you could use her to take care of your less important operations, sir." The secretary quivered under Maxwell's gaze as he stopped to stare at her, eyes hard as flint. Slowly, so slowly, a predatory smile works its way across his face, and he stalks forward, lifting the secretary's chin. 

"You are an absolute genius, where would I be without you?" He shoves her head away and she stumbles back a step before catching herself. "Bring her on. Get her set up on payroll, benefits, whatever she needs, then send her here to talk with me." The secretary nods, scribbling down notes on a piece of paper before looking back up to her boss who has taken to looking out the window of his high rise office. "Well don't just stand there, chop chop!" She shoos her from the room and she leaves in a rush, heels clicking down the hall as she goes to find you.

The lobby of the Lord building was absolutely massive, and appropriately ornate for what you knew of Maxwell's image. Nervous fingers played across your pencil skirt, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in the material as you waited for the secretary you had met to return with her answer. The sound of heels clicking down the hallway draws your attention and a cordial smile graces your lips as the secretary returns. 

"Good news!" she claims in an overly excited tone. "Welcome to the company! Mr. Lord has agreed to take you on as his intern. I'll take your information and get you set up with payroll while you come to meet the man behind it all." You nod, fishing a manila envelope of all of your information out of your shoulder bag, handing it over. "Excellent. Now, follow me. A few pointers," she says matter of factly. "Speak only when spoken to and NEVER interrupt. Mr. Lord hates being interrupted. You'll refer to him as Mr. Lord or Sir unless instructed otherwise. Keep your answer short and to the point. Are we clear?" You swallow thickly, suddenly astronomically more nervous than you were just a moment ago. 

"Crystal." 

"Excellent." She takes you to a large set of double wooden doors, knocking with three quick raps before opening the door. "Mr. Lord, here she is." The secretary ushers you in, placing you in the center where she stood trembling only minutes before, stepping off to the side as Maxwell strides up to you, circling around you as he sizes you up. 

"Not bad," he muses. "Not bad at all." His gaze was searing, causing your blood to race in your veins. You were pretty, he had to admit, and that would definitely be a bonus if you were going to be around him every damn day. Something familiar tugged at the back of his mind. Your eyes or your jawline, maybe, but he quickly chased that thought away. "So, you're going to be my new intern!" He claps his hands together. "Your work starts now. Follow me." He places a hand on your shoulder, leading you to what you assumed was where you were going to be sitting for the rest of this internship.

--

You blink and stumble for a moment, a firm yet chilling grip catching you to right you. 

"Careful there doll. Can't have you ruining that pretty face of yours cause you tried to kiss the carpet." Max laughed that ultra-fake, condescending laugh he had, letting you go as you righted yourself. Adjusting your pencil skirt, you nod and take a deep breath. This was all way too familiar. The outfit, the internship, the guide through the office to a desk by your boss'. It was hands down the worst case of deja vu you have EVER had. 

"Mr. Phillips-"

"Call me Max, doll. You're my new intern, and I'd like to think of you and I more as friends than as boss and employee." He grins at you and you shiver at the sight of his fangs. 

"...Max. Uhm...does...does any of this seem a little too familiar to you? Like you've been here before?" His look back at you with a look that makes you wish you could just melt into the carpet and disappear. 

"I'm here every day, what are you talking about?" 

"N-no I mean like, do you ever get deja vu? Because I'm having it bad right now." That trademark grin spreads across Max's face again as he seats you at your desk, perching himself up on the front of it so he's looking down at you. 

"My whole unlife is deja vu, dollface. It's round two for me." That damn smile never leaves his lips as he watches you put your papers in the drawers of your desk. "Any other silly little questions, or should I just let you get started on your first day?" The tips of your ears were on fire and you shook your head. 

"Nothing else, Max. Thank you, I'll get to work." He claps and nods, hopping off your desk. 

"Alright, doll. You'll have a set of reports for editing in your inbox. Have them formatted, printed, and on my desk before you head out today." You nod, starting up your desktop as he makes his way from your now shared office. This...was going to be a long internship. 

Max makes his way down the hall, that fake, used car salesman smile falling from his lips as soon as he is out of eye-shot. He stalks down the hall to his own personal bathroom, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. 

"Fuck!" The acoustics of the tiled room cause his voice to reverberate, sharp in his ears. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" He white knuckles the edge of the sink, the porcelain cracking under his hands. It was her. It was FUCKING her! Of all the people who could come to intern at this company, it had to be his soulmate. Because of course it did! Why would the universe decide anything else?! The frustrated vampire closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. She didn't know, everything was going to be fine. Can't have a soulmate when you don't have a soul. Checkmate, universe. Yeah, that was what he would do, he’d ignore it. Problems always went away when you ignored them, right? 

Wrong.

--

"I need to stop watching vamp movies before bed," Javier Peña groans, sitting up from his bed. "Fucking dreaming about them now.." He continues to grumble to himself as he gets ready for the day. It was going to be a long one. The DEA had caught a lead on Escobar, and were running a raid this afternoon. He needed to be on his game today, this could be the chance they needed to finally get that bastard. He slips his gun into the waistband of his jeans, grabs his leather jacket, and heads to work. 

Hostages. Of course they had fucking hostages. 

"This complicates things," Steve whispers from behind him. 

"No shit," the exasperated DEA agent snaps back, eyes scanning the entrance to the building. They had no idea how many Escobar's men had in there, and they needed to get them all out. Javier was tired of seeing innocents die, caught up in something because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. "I'm going around back," Javi hisses, ducking around Steve to find the back entrance. "You stay here with the team. First gunshot, you move. Be smart, clear every room, move fast." Steve nods, taking Javi’s place as Javi slinks along the back perimeter. 

He was right, there was a back entrance. He presses his ear to the door, trying to make out any sound and was met with only silence. Gun ready in one hand, he slowly opens the door, thanking whatever god existed that most of Escobar's men were idiots. They had forgotten to arm the back door. He moves along the wall to the hallway, noting two doors on the left, one on the right on the way to the main lobby. His heart pounds in his ears as he moves as quickly and quietly as possible, choosing the one door on the right first, seeing it open. He ducks in, gun sweeping over the room, but all he sees is you there, bound and gagged with duct tape. Your face was a mess, one eye blackened and dried blood from your nose crusted on the tape. Weary, broken eyes meet Javi's and his heart stutters. He had to get you out of here, and he was going to. 

As you look at him, your eyes widened at the shadow moving down the hall. Noticing, Javi presses himself just to the side of the doorway, waiting for the man to make his way into the room before firing off two quick shots to his head. The man slumped to the ground, lifeless as the house descended into chaos. Javi grabs you, dragging you gracelessly to the corner where he can better protect you. The action draws a soft whimper from you, fresh tears running down your cheeks.

Gunfire, screaming in both Spanish and English, crashing and banging...it was all too much for you and you began sobbing, quaking in absolute terror. Javier held you to him gently, his large hand holding your head against his chest. 

"Calma, calma. Estás segura. Soy aquí," he whispers softly against your hair, eyes trained on the door still. 

"Peña! It's clear! We got them all, where are you?" Steve. Thank god. 

"First room on your left. Bring me the first aid kit!" You look up at agent Peña with glassy eyes, bloodshot from crying and he starts to peel the duct tape away from your mouth as gently as he can. "It's alright, you're safe now." His voice is gruff, but he speaks so gently to you.  You can't stop the trembling in your limbs, the adrenaline running its course. 

"I got the ki- holy shit what did they do to her?!" Steve joins Javi by your side, helping to undo the tape binding your arms and legs.

"Beat the shit out of her it looks like," Javi pulls an alcohol swab from the kit, tearing it open to wipe off a nasty looking cut along your brow and you hiss, pulling back at the sting. "Easy, chica. I know it hurts, I'm sorry." The whimper that leaves your lips has Javi nearly seeing red. Those bastards...

"Let's get her out of here. We need to get her to a hospital." Steve is already standing up, pulling out his phone. 

"No! No, please no hospitals!" The words come out as a rasp, your throat feeling like sandpaper. 

"Lady, you're beat to hell, we need to get you some medical attention." He argues, but the look in your eyes is desperate as you turn your gaze back to the DEA agent who saved you. 

"Please, please no hospitals...I can't do it." 

"Peña..." Javier cuts him off with a shake of his head. 

"I'll take her back to my place and take care of her. She can stay there for now. Her place probably isn't safe right now anyways if they managed to get her." No hospitals...they weren't going to take you to the hospital. Relief washes over you and your limbs suddenly felt so heavy. 

"Thank you..." You barely make out before your body gives out and you slump against Javi. His arms wrap around you after checking for a pulse, and he stands, scooping you up bridal style in his arm. He carries you out to his car, sitting you in the front seat and strapping you in, Steve arguing the whole way. 

"Look, she said no hospitals, so we aren't going to the hospital. If things get worse, I'll take her, but for now, I'm taking her back to mine. You stay here and get the paperwork done. I'll call if anything changes." Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Javi was already in the truck, taking you to his little apartment on the quiet side of town. 

It was surely a strange sight, the DEA agent carrying in your battered body to his apartment, and it raises the eyebrow of Old Woman Angela who gracefully still decides to mind her own business. Safe within the confines of his home, Javi carries you to his bed, laying you down gently before ridding you of your shoes in an attempt to grant you at least a little comfort. 

"Let's get you cleaned up, querida." His words are soft and gentle, more so than he's used with anyone in a long time. Delicately, he wipes your face with a clean, damp cloth to rid you of the grime and blood that had built up, using caution around your deeply blackened eye. The sight of you so battered made his heart ache. He was used to violence, he was used to death. It followed him everywhere in this line of work. So why, then, was this hitting him so much harder than any of the others. Why did he feel this overwhelming need to protect you, to keep you safe from all the world's atrocities? He shakes his head and mutters to himself in Spanish as he moves to sanitizing and dressing your wounds. Once you were as cared for as he could make you, he sits, watching your sleeping form. The subtle rise and fall of your chest as you sleep gives him at least a little comfort. His hand moves as if of its own will, taking yours gently. They're so soft, and they fit so perfectly in his, almost like your hands were made to be held in his. It felt so right, so natural. And that was something Javier Peña had never felt before, not like this. In your sleep, so gently he almost thinks he imagined it, you squeeze his hand tighter.

Javier Peña didn't even know your name, but in his heart he knew one thing. 

You were home.

--

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" you call from your place on the couch, head dangling off, your feet where your head should be. 

"Absolutely," came the gentle voice from the kitchen. 

"And what about soulmates?" 

"Those too. Why do you ask?" Marcus peeks his head out and chuckles when he sees you once again refusing to use furniture correctly. 

"I dunno, just a thought I've been having recently. Like, how do people know when they've found their soulmate? It's not like we have a countdown timer that tells us." 

"Well," your boyfriend comes to join you on the couch and you immediately right yourself to lay with your head in his lap, his fingers moving to play with your hair. "It's one of those things you just know. Like, they walk into the room and all you can see is them. Their voice and laugh makes you feel like you're floating, and every time you see them a warmth spreads through you from the tip of your head all the way to your toes. And the feel of their skin is the most right thing in the world, like anywhere you go, so long as you're with them, you're home." His gentle smile down at you does just that, filling you with that warmth it always does. "Some people even say they have dreams of past lives where they've met their soulmates before." 

"Have you?" 

"I have." His voice is so assured, it takes you by surprise, and you must have worn that look on your face because Marcus laughs before tapping your nose. 

"...Tell me about her. Or him, I guess." Curiosity was eating you alive. Who was Marcus' soulmate? Were you keeping him from them? Your heart sank at the thought that maybe...maybe he belonged to someone else through some greater proclaimed destiny.

"She's been so many things and been on so many adventures, love. She's flown through the expanses of space so many times, fought monsters and mined for rare jewels. She's aided weary warriors who were passing through her tiny village. She's survived terrifying experiences with drug lords and she's worked as a top agent in intelligence organizations. She's wept for a lover she never knew, and she's been mourned by more than she will ever know." You watch his face with a child-like wonder, and when he finishes he looks at you, that glimmer you love so much still present in his eyes. "Have you ever had similar dreams?" 

The question catches you by surprise and you find yourself contemplating. You had never really remembered dreams, but a few did stick out to you. "I remember...space. And the man I was with was cold and metal, but his voice was gentle. And I remember...I remember working in offices with men in suits I could never afford, but who bought me nice things to say the words they could never get to come out. And...a scar. I remember a scar." Wandering fingers reach up to trace over Marcus' eye. "I remember my first thought when I saw you was 'Didn't he have a scar?' But the thought was so out of place, I had no idea what to do with it. I had never met you before! So I...forgot it." All through your talking, Marcus' smile has just grown wider, as if he's waiting for you to catch one of his jokes. 

When it all clicks into place, you sit up, your mouth slightly open as memories flood your mind's eyes. A wet and weary warrior, a charming cowboy, a fearsome hunter covered in metal, a talkative gentleman whose every sentence was poetry, a ruthless killer, a soft pilot with a heat of gold, a grand prince gone too soon, a pompous billionaire, a sarcastic frat boy, and a gentle DEA agent all flashing through your mind in rapid succession. Your eyes tear up with the memories that are yours but at the same time aren't, and you reach up to cup his face. Words die on the tip of your tongue as you struggle to force them out. 

Marcus takes the burden from you, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. It's heavy, full of so many memories, so many moments, so many lifetimes. It's so magnificent it sucks the air from your lungs and you break away to gasp for breath as Marcus presses his forehead to yours. 

"Y...You're my...soulmate..." The words are barely a breath, but he hears them all the same and nods, pecking your lips once more as he gathers you into his arms. You melt into the grasp, more comfortable here than anywhere else on earth. 

"Yes, my love. And no matter the lifetime, no matter the universe, no matter the struggle...The forces that be will always bring me to you. Always wait for me." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list is open!

Requests are Open!

[theodora3022]

Claim (Yandere Chuuya Nakahara)

Pairing: Yandere! Chuuya Nakahara X Fem reader

Summary: You have the courage to mock Dazai when he flirts with you casually, different from almost every other woman Dazai throws himself on. Seeing his nemesis being stepped on brings Chuuya great joy, which escalates to him taking a special interest in you.

Notes: So...If you read my BNHA fics you should know I have a thing for wind superpowers, so reader is going to have a wind ability in here as well. Be gone if you have problems with that. My first take on BSD, on Chuuya nevertheless... Hopefully this does not flop. I thought about writing Kunikida for this one, but I just could not get Chuuya’s smirk off my mind (Along with Fyodor’s but that is for another day) Also this is self indulgent as hell, so be warned. I’m not satifised with the final result, as some parts feels a bit forced...But there you have it. 

Word count: 2.8k 

Warnings: Drugging, coercion, mention of knife and blood, implied non con  at the end

You were sitting beside a floor window of a café when Chuuya first saw you, when he was on his way to get some beer. At first, it was not you that drawn his attention, it was that guy on the opposite end of the coffee table.

Osamu Dazai. Also known as the bane of Chuuya Nakahara’s existence and his greatest adversary. Out womanizing again, he never changes. He was about to ignore those shady behaviours and just carry on, until he hears how you are attacking Dazai with your words.

“Dazai, please. I bet you said that to every woman you met.” Slowly stirring your hot beverage, you smirk as you took a little sip. “It is a miracle how you got this far unscathed.” You seem to see right through Dazai, how clever. Now Chuuya have to hear how this can go down. His own drink can wait, this little comedy show is more worthwhile.

“But beautiful! Your eyes shine like the brightest stars, I just cannot let that go unappreciated.” “If you are so found of shining things, I can get you a pack of glitter to stare at. I would actually appreciate it if you stop staring right into my eyes, thank you.” This is a mistake, you thought. You thought Dazai was just being a good Senpai when he invites you to join him for a quick coffee at lunch. And of course being the naïve new recruit, you said yes without hesitation.

A pack of glitter? Oh dear. Out of all those years Chuuya has known Dazai, he had never seen the brunette getting such a good roast. Placing a hand over his mouth to muffle his chuckles, Chuuya is beyond amused. Most women would be too busy swooning over that pretty face, but you did not even flinch and insulted him just like that. You got some sass!  That is the first time the mafia executive had taken a formal notice of you. You are indeed a fair woman, no wonder Dazai would choose to hit on you.

He does vaguely recall recently hearing about the ADA obtaining a new recruit. A young woman with a wind ability. But you are far more interesting then that. “This has been pleasant, but I think it is time to head back to the office.” When Kunikida told you Dazai can be a handful yesterday, you did not expect this is how you would find out. You stopped him from taking out his wallet, shaking your head: “Dazai. I will pay for myself. Besides, you are in enough debt as you are now. See you back at the agency.”

Not even Chuuya can make Dazai appear this defeated, this discouraged. Just who are you exactly? Forget the beer, Chuuya needs to know all about you at once. 

Reading through your file back at the headquarters, your info is enough to make even Chuuya raise his eyebrows a couple of times.

You can command any gas to your will? That is a rare gift, even the Port Mafia had yet to secure that. Too bad you are on the wrong side, Chuuya can just think of so many ways of using your ability to its full potential. The file was put back to the storage, sure. But you had impressed him back at that café and peaked his interests. It would be hard to make him unsee Dazai being humiliated. But you did not linger on his mind much after. 

However, that would not be lasting too long. Chuuya was shocked to hear some of the members has died in dark alleys of yokohoma, apparently from lack of oxygen, but without any traces of choking or even a cut. Mori even called him to the office to discuss about this.

Pictures of you, in causal and business attire lay across the expensive office desk. You were smiling in all of them, although that smile does not look like an amused one to Chuuya now.

“Do you recognize this woman?”

How can Chuuya forget about you? The woman who gave him the best comedy show, who stomped on Dazai’s philanderer ways so mercilessly. “A new recruit of ADA. Her air control abilities must have enabled her to suck the oxygen particles out of human bodies. It also gives her the ability to levitate and an incredible speed, which is such a headache. Even Akutagawa cannot seem to finish her.”

What a little troublemaker you are. Consider Chuuya motivated. He knows you are strong, but not anyone can escape from Akutagawa. Where is the fun without a little challenge?

“I will go. My abilities would allow me to get the job done.” Heck, this once he would get something Dazai cannot have! In this mini game, at least, Chuuya would be the winner. 

“Chuuya, you seem awfully enthusiastic about this. May I ask why that is?” Stroking Elise’s hair, Mori carefully observe the young man’s expressions. “She has the guts to insult Dazai, should be a fun one. I do not plan to kill her, however. That would be such a waste.”

“Yes, that would be most ideal. Her ability would be a valueble asset, here’s some drugs if she is being too difficult.”

Oh but you are so much more then the wielder of a powerful ability to Chuuya.

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Work has been a pain in the ass lately, so on your afternoon off, you choose to take a walk along the water in the park. Everything looks so peaceful, children running amok, couples holding hands, the sound of the birds chirping, all sounds so natural and calming. You let out a sigh of relief as you settled on a bench beside a tree and closed your eyes, breathing in the forest scent, still sleep deprived from the nightmares.

Although you only killed those gangsters to defend a civilian, you regret it somewhat afterwards. You expected revenge, but not from someone like Akutagawa? You can only remove the target’s oxygen from their bodies when you are standing still and concentrated, never while fleeing for your life. If it is not for your unparalleled speed, you were sure one of those dark spikes is going to be your ultimate demise. It was too close for your liking. Before you were always able to leave safely with your ability, but this time you barely made it.

Dozing off in a park while the Port Mafia is on your trail? Chuuya would advise against that. 

However, he would say he much prefer this compliant, soft look on your face compare your sarcastic, confident grin towards Dazai. Dark circles under your eyes? Have you been having sleeping problems? Looks like the little hero is not as brave as she lets on.

Now, he needs to be careful. Even though you look as harmless as a little bunny now, Chuuya can still recall the last expressions his deceased subordinates made. Dying from oxygen loss surely does not look pleasant. While the file said you can only use that special method once per week, Chuuya cannot leave any room for errors. 

Ah, it seems you had carelessly dropped your handkerchief on the ground. You did not seem to notice. As if you want him to come near. Who is he to decline a lady’s invitations?

Sensing his approach, you jumped out the bench and distanced yourself from Chuuya. Always on your guard, this should be interesting. Instead of kept closing in the distance, Chuuya bend down and picked up your handkerchief. “Did you drop this?”

See, you were overreacting! He is only trying to tell you that you dropped something. Feeling the guilt of mistaking him for an assassin churns in your stomach, you put up an apologetic smile: “My apologies, sir.  And thank you very much.” Yet you cannot shake off the feeling of you saw him before. Is he a government official? Or perhaps a store clerk? It would be rude if you actually do know him. Yes, you definitely seen his handsome face somewhere. Reaching out to his outstretched hand, you tried to retrieve your handkerchief. But as you take the little square cloth into your hand, his slim but firm fingers snapped around your wrist like handcuffs, seizing you with a smug smirk on his face. “Let go of me, Sir. You wouldn’t want me to use my ability on you.” 

Your gaze turned cold as the winter snow, as if you are willing to punch him in the face then and there. 

A good chance to observe your ability in action. How can Chuuya miss this opportunity? You tried to wiggle out of his grasp while activating your winds, but to your horror, it does not seem to have any effect on Chuuya. Sure, his hat and hair are flowing because of the strong wind, but he has not moved a single inch, still clenching your left wrist in his hand, lips still curling upwards. Turning to your second solution: bringing rocks to hit him until unconsciousness. Why wouldn’t the rocks move? Just who is this man? “Are you with the Port Mafia?”

That took you long enough. Chuuya let out a sinister chuckle, pulls you into his embrace with ease. Locking his right arm around your waist, he whispers beside your ear: “Of course, cutie. And you just walked straight into my trap. Now, it is best if you do not move, I would hate for this knife to leave a scar on your fragile little neck.” Feeling a thin, cold blade pressed against your throat, threatening to cut into your skin, you nervously gulped. Who is he exactly? You should have memorized the faces of the big names of the mafia-

Your ability is impressive. Even Chuuya has to admit that much. If it were not for the reinforced gravity he applied on himself, he would be on the other side of the park by now. Such a shame you are working for that little agency. Crap. You finally remember. Cursing sleep depravation under your breath, you recall where you had seen his face: the files back in the agency. One of the executives, Chuuya Nakahara, with the powers of manipulating gravity. That is why your winds cannot push him away. Just how did you end up with an executive’s knife pressing against your throat? 

Under ideal circumstances, you would order the oxygen particles to stay away from this man, but that ability could only be used once per week. You have not recharged enough, and the fact that you are not in best condition does not help either. 

“Now, you got two options, sweet. First, you can try to get away, and it would not end pretty.” Chuuya laughs he feels you shiver, clearly frightened by the idea of your blood spilling out like a fountain once he slices open your throat. Your resistance has pathetic impacts on him, but you have to at least try. You have been neglecting your physical training because you often rely on that extraordinary speed your ability grants you. However, that also means you are helpless in close up situations such as present. Not so confident now, aren’t you? “Second, pay a visit to our headquarters. The boss would like an audience with you.” You certainly do not want to fall into the hands of the port mafia. However, there are civilians in the park. They did not seem to notice how Chuuya is holding you at knifepoint.  Letting yourself, an ADA agent die here would mean the agency’s reputation is done for. Getting yourself killed in broad daylight, in a public place no less! How incompetent. Looks like the only option is to go with him, for now. “Fine. I will go with you.” “Smart choice. But I would expect no less from an intelligent woman like you.” He carefully removed the knife, and just when you were about to relax and think of a retaliate method, you felt a sharp pain on your left arm. A syringe. Just what did he injected you? Watching you fall onto the ground by your knees, barely able to lift a finger due to the sedation drugs, brings him a strange sense of contentment. Chuuya does not consider himself as a sadist by any means, but after seeing how you treated Dazai, shining with confidence and smugness, only made this submissive version of you so much more satisfactory. “Do not look at me like that, dear (y/n). Just a little insurance that you would not leave without permission. I hope you understand.” You do not, but that does not concern him. Swooping you up effortlessly, Chuuya carries your weak body out of the park, straight to a van that awaits there for a long time.

You never imagined, not even in your wildest dreams, that you would be in the Port Mafia’s headquarters like this. Being carried through corridor after corridor ,by one of their executives like a doll, although not by your own free will. Guards everywhere, almost at every turn point. Maybe you can break one of the windows and fly out? Alas, that would not possible if all you can generate is little breezes due to your present condition. 

“Do not worry, (y/n).” Feeling your body tense up, Chuuya choose to reassure you, or at least try to. “If simple murder was my objective, you would be dead in that park.” 

There are worse things then death. You really did mess up this time. You do not even want to imagine what they could do to you. 

“Enter.”

Placing you gently on the carpted floor, like a fragile china artifact, Chuuya bowed to the man behind the desk. “I brought (y/n) here, as you requested.” A cloved finger lifts your chin up, forcing you too look up into his eyes. You did not flinch, instead you stared back with unveil anger burning in your (e/c) eyes. 

“Quite a feisty one. Would you like to join us? Your wind ability completely outclasses my other assassins. That speed and that special method! Truly impressive. You should not waste your talents in that agency. The Port Mafia could offer you more.”

Using the little strength you had left, you got away from the mafia’s boss’s reach and shook your head: “I would rather die a gruesome death then working for you. If you want to kill me, you can do it now.” 

“Then, I suppose we need to change our method of negotiation-” Great, you can already feel those cold torture instruments.

“I can handle it.” To your surprise, Chuuya stopped the man from saying any more. 

The older man looks to his subordinate with curious eyes. “Chuuya? Are you sure? Wouldn’t it be better to leave this to our experts?” 

“Leave it to me, boss. She would be compliant within a week, I can guarantee.” Why would he want to trouble himself with this? Well, he merely wants to claim what Dazai cannot, as simple as that. 

“As you wish, then. As long as you do not break her beyond repair, she is all yours.”

You want to shout, to scream that you are not some object to be hand over, but you just do not have the energy to do so. There is not much you can do beside being a silent observer on the ground. 

Instead of a torture chamber, Chuuya took you to his personal quarters in the Mafia base. Perhaps he wants to do this the tender way? Sway you with high salary or numerous other perks of working in this mafia? 

It is when he thrown you on the bed, straddling over your helpless form, tearing your clothes off mercilessly, you realize how wrong you were.

“You look so good under me, where you belong.” He did not even bother to unbutton your blouse, just ripped the fine fabric off swiftly, grinning at your horrified expressions. “Come on, do not look so scared. This is not like you. Where is your fierce spirts when you insult Dazai?” Has he been stalking you? How could he-

“Ah, no matter. That jerk tried to win you over, but it is me who would get you.You would forget all about him when you are busy screaming my name later. Do you think you can handle my torture methods, dear (y/n)? Gods, you are beautiful. No wonder why Dazai would be head over heels for you.” 

How you bit your lip to supress your tears, trying to cover your chest for some modesty, only made his lust increase drastically. This time, Chuuya can finally be proud of his accomplishment: claiming a prize Dazai can never possibly won.