#i gave a cat a rail gun

[starsstillshine]

rewatching the expanse to finally finish the amazon prime video seasons and thomas jane is really doing it for me

[aheckinmess]

Bullet in a Gun [Snipe] (Angst)

(One-shot 23/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Snipe, Choku Dan, Pro Hero Snipe, Snipe x OC, Snipe x Reader, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Angst, And When I Say Angst, I Mean the Cliche Damsel in Distress This Time, I'm Not Sorry, I Committed to the Chivalrous Cowboy Trope, Snipe Rides in to Save the Day, I Gave Myself a Panic Attack Writing This, It Was Worth It, Snipe is So Underappreciated, I Did My Best to Remedy That, We Stay Writing 1.6K Words This Week

Word Count: 1,639 words

Summary: As Ichijiku contemplates life, a villain decides to make her contemplate her life specifically when he kidnaps her to get back at Snipe. As the clock for Ichijiku's life ticks down, Snipe finds a hint left behind as to where she's being held. When he finally arrives, he might be able to save her, but at what cost?

Ichijiku (Tigress)

If I stare at the sky for too long, it almost seems like a cardboard cutout, ready at any moment to fall forward and reveal its Great Creator behind it, spanning out into the dark, expansive realm of space. Will galaxies seem finite in the infinitesimal vacuum of space? Or will they only seem that much bigger with my own microscopic existence soiling the atmosphere? 

Those thoughts plague  my mind before a blue-haired man with tattoos wrestles me out of my rocking chair and through my house to steal me away.

Now, tied to a railroad track and left with nothing but the sky to look at, I’m not wondering about the vast expanse of the heavens any more. I’m wondering what Snipe will think of my absence. Will he think I’m ready to move on from our year-long relationship, unaware of my predicament? Or will he be lost and confused, distraught when he doesn’t find my warning in time?

Death doesn’t even cross my mind, despite the fact that Chameleon makes it very clear I’ll be dying at precisely 3:00pm.

“You’re awfully calm for someone in this situation.”

“You’ll have to forgive me. I’m an introvert and not entirely sure how I should respond to this.” My tone is, in fact, far more calm than it should be. “If this is your idea of catching a date, you’ve got the wrong idea. This isn’t a girl’s idea of a fun time, nor is it what she means when she says she wants to be railed.”

“Shut up. That’s hardly an appropriate response.” I hear him huff out a breath before he continues. “You’re not nearly as fun as I’d hoped. I’d been banking on hearing you scream until you lost your voice.” He drawls, apparating into existence in my line of sight.

What I thought to be a simple blue, turns out to be iridescent scales camouflaging him with every winking beam of sunlight, a kaleidoscope of color with every step he takes. He might be handsome if he didn’t just hogtie me to the tracks.

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you.” I roll my eyes as I glare at him. “But it’s Snipe’s job to make me scream, you know.”

A moment later he’s got a rope tied around my mouth, effectively gagging me.

“On second thought, it’s far too irritating listening to you talk. You have no class.” He crosses his arms across his chest before looking down one side of the tracks. “But don’t worry. You’ll be screaming soon.”

When I feel the ground rumbling beneath me followed by a thunderous horn in the distance, panic sweeps through my chest. Even so, death still isn’t my first thought. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut and think of Snipe. I think of the sky. I think of infinity and my cat and love letters and regrets and what could have been. 

Only when I see the approaching silhouette of the train do I allow myself a fleeting thought for death.

. . . . .

It’s 2:23pm when Snipe dismounts from his horse. It’s 2:25 when he whips past the overturned rocking chair and bursts into her open door, barely hanging onto its hinges.

It’s 2:26 when he finds the note plastered to her fridge. 

Been a while since we’ve had a fair fight, Snipe. Let’s see if you’re still on your A-game. Your lady dies at three o’clock sharp. See if you can save her in time.

C

Snipe’s world is out of sorts. The world is not in harmony because she should be here and she should be making tea. She should be turning to the door with that blue-ribbon winning smile as he offers her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. She should be gazing into the corral of his eyes that he leaves open just for her.

She should not be gone.

Snipe slams his fist into the wall trimming, using the pain to pull himself back together. He doesn’t have time to waste. No time at all. Time that ticks down with every second he spends rummaging through the house, searching for any sign of where Chameleon might have taken her.

He’s nearly given up hope by 2:35, where he sinks to his knees and reminds himself to breathe. She will not die. She will be in his arms again. She will hide little love letters in his hat-shaped ring box that once housed her engagement ring now sitting on her finger.

Love letters. Without thinking, he opens the box and what should he find but a note? A blue, crumpled sticky note folded more haphazardly than the rest, and on it is a scribbled word in her handwriting: train.

The box falls to the floor and the door slams shut as Snipe leaps onto his horse and spurs the mare to motion, flying through the forest and into the open plains like a bat out of hell.

When a train comes into view, his eyes follow the tracks on an uncomfortably close trajectory towards two figures. He knows even as he urges Kuroashi faster that he won’t make it. 

At 2:59 he aims his gun.

. . . . .

The train is here. It’s close enough to feel the heat from its smoky breath as it rattles the tracks. All sounds drown out from the steady rhythm of chug-a-chug-a-choo-choo until my brain turns the cadence into an ominous Death is coming for you. 

The train is here. The train is here. Death is here and all I can worry about is whether or not Snipe will keep the box for my engagement ring. Will he hold it when he wants to remember me? Or will he get rid of everything so he doesn’t have to remember what he lost?

Chameleon’s timer goes off to the sound of a gunshot. 

Click. Clank. The switch lever swerves with the tracks and suddenly the train zooms past me, still far too close for comfort, but no longer on course to swallow me with its iron jaws. The warmth of the train mingles with adrenaline and suddenly I can’t stop wiggling and whimpering in my restraints, muscles buzzing as I fight to get off these damn tracks.

“More vocal now, huh?” Chameleon hisses, disappearing and activating his quirk just as Snipe rides into range.

“MMPH!” I try to warn him.

But his camouflaged offender sends him flying off his horse and into the dirt, gun still primed in his hand. He’s on his feet quickly, but what can he do? I watch helplessly as Snipe’s homing quirk becomes useless. How does one shoot what he can’t see?

My eyes scour the dirt, searching for footprints and other minute signs of his movement. When a cloud of dust swirls by Snipe’s feet, I thrash in my bindings, desperately trying to free myself and help him. My fiancé’s head arcs back into the ground from his unseen adversary, kick-starting my heart.

Blood drips from his nose as keen, pro-hero eyes start searching for the same tell-tale signs of Chameleon’s movements I’ve been watching for. It costs him a hit in the stomach and his ribs, but he analyzes his foe’s movements to reclaim the upper hand. Snake battles snake in the hot, barren plains while my body quivers with fear.

All it takes is another dust cloud and bam! Snipe wrestles the invisible villain into the ground, appearing to fight air until Chameleon relinquishes use of his quirk.

“Glad to see you’re still in tip top shape, Snipe.” Chameleon growls, turning his glare to me as Snipe pulls out the restraining tape. “But you cut it kind of close, and next time she won’t be so lucky.”

“There won’t be a next time if you’d prefer to keep breathing.” Snipe barks out, his voice feral and sharp.

Snipe gets Chameleon’s hands behind his back and calls the cops as he sprints in my direction. Calloused hands act as a balm to the tremors tainting my muscles. When he cuts the bindings loose, he grabs my face and presses his forehead to mine; we share each others’ oxygen, our eyes promising the other what our mouths can’t say right now - I’m here and you’re safe and I’m not going anywhere.

My life remains finite while stretching infinitely before me, stretching straight out for Snipe. 

I don’t ever want to let him go.

“You’re okay.” He whispers; it’s hard to tell whether he says this for me or himself. “Are you hurt? Did he do anything before he tied you up?”

“A few bruises and cuts.” My fingers card through his hair and slide down his cheek, soaking in every ridge and bump of his body. “And that’s only because I put up a fight before he got me here.”

“That’s my girl.” He grins and the world clicks back into place.

The heat sears my body and pain torments my bones as I become abruptly aware of the world around me. His presence anchors me as I’m swirling dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness. He catches me with whispered coos, keeping me tethered for now.

“You’re having an adrenaline crash. And, hell, I can’t blame ya. But take a few deep breaths for me, okay, darlin’? Police should be here soon.”

It’s 3:34 when the police arrive to stuff Chameleon in the back of their car and EMTs arrive to check me for injuries. Only when the blinding blue and red lights disappear from my line of sight do I make myself stop counting the minutes.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Snipe whispers in my ear, securing a shock blanket around my shoulders.

“Not my house.” I whimper. “Will you take me to your place?”

“Of course, honey. I’ll keep you safe. Let’s go home.”

Want More Snipe? Try: Hanging Fire in the Pond

[a-libra-writes]

здравствуйте, если не возражаете, то можно ридер кто дочь довольно влиятельного босса мафии, но из-за того, что отец скрытен и мало кто знает о том, кто его любимая дочь, многие стараются подобраться поближе к нему через свою читательницу дочь и поэтому отец нанял телохранителей для любимой дочери, но несмотря на это читательница не избалованная, а добрая душа (Lackadaisy ) ( Wes Clyde x reader )

(I had to google translate this asdkflslsj) Hello, if you don’t mind, then you can read who is the daughter of a rather influential mafia boss, but due to the fact that the father is secretive and few people know who his beloved daughter is, many try to get closer to him through their reader daughter and therefore the father hired bodyguards for his beloved daughter, but despite this, the reader is not spoiled, but a kind soul

Enjoy~ ofc, reader is femme in this.

Most of the Marigold gang knew who you were, though not by name. You were the girl who came into the Marigold Room to have a few drinks and listen to the musicians. Well dressed, well spoken ... and flanked by at least two bodyguards. That was the unusual part. They figured you were the daughter of a politican, maybe a rail baron ... surely, no one involved with crime. You just didn't "act" that way.

You and Wes met during one of these evenings. Maybe it was the drink that gave him courage to approach you. The guards weren't directly beside you, but he knew sometimes they'd hide around. It was strange, and made his hairs stand up, but you were clearly happy to be spoken to. Your ears twitched, your eyes lit up, and a sympathy grew in him. He figured people must not bother much.

There were short visits in the Marigold Room that later, somehow, ended up being visits outside the hotel, during the daytime. Small things, like a cafe or a walk around the park. Wes always clocked the guards when they tried to "disguise" themselves and hide. He quickly figures there's four that rotate shifts, and which ones he could probably take on if he needed to ...

... Not that he thinks you'll call them, but if they've got orders to keep certain no-good gangsters away from their charge ...

So he's on better behavior with this gal, at least, until he whispers if you wants to give the blockheads the slip. And you actually agree.

Wes figures out pretty quick you aren't a regular uptown girl, bodyguards aside. You don't seem bothered by drunken brawls that broke out, you didn't blink when he moved his gun to a different pocket, you said nothing about a bullet hole in the car. And I mean, he's not the most upstanding looking guy, and you were still carrying on with him.

(What Wes doesn't know is your father finds out immediately, and only tolerates it because you'll surely get bored or disappointed. He's always warned you away from men like this.)

Still, he keeps his business separate from his budding relationship with you. Best behavior and all that, for the most part. The previous romantic HC's I mentioned apply, though because you're obviously from money, Wes might feel some insecurity about impressing you. Or perhaps you don't take this relationship too seriously, because obviously you'll marry some fancy well-to-do moneybags cat. But wait, didn't he not want a serious commitment anyway ...? Poor guy gets a lot of conflicting thoughts.

Also, you really aren't his usual type of girl. You're quite sweet and almost not aware of your money. Sometimes you have trouble speaking up and he has to tell someone off for you. You mention how difficult it is to find real friends - the unspoken words being "let alone a relationship", which makes him feel funny. You're so interested in normal things like a duck pond or cotton candy at a fair or simple shops in the city that he wonders about your upbringing. Should you be hanging around a guy like him?

Sometimes, he gets a bad, nervous feeling. Maybe he's in too deep. He's tried asking his contacts, even his boss, what's up with your family. There's rumors, talk of "big time" gun running and smuggling. Serious operations, going all up and down the coast, not just in one city. A voice in his head is telling him to cut ties while he can. I know better than this. I know how the game plays.

But anytime he tells himself today is the today, he'll end it ... as soon as you two meet up and you take his arm and lean on him, excuses come up.

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[cthullain]

What the River Carries Away (#1 Short Story Vol. 2)

Spelling errors have been fixed, otherwise, the text is written with the same punctuation as it was in the original comic. Full story under the cut ୨୧⋆｡˚

In my line of work, there’s nothing like a good bridge at two in the morning. For three reasons:

– Not even God is around at that hour.

– Once done with the hit, it’s into the water with the mark, and if anybody starts asking questions, I don’t remember having seen a soul.

– On a bridge, bullets travel a lot faster and men move a lot slower.

Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t like badmouthing the dead but I have to say one thing about Tom Wallace. The guy was a real loser. It’s no wonder they called him “The Mouth.” He’d earned the name because “The Mouth” had a habit of never being able to keep his shut. He even showed up at the police station one day and spilled his guts about everything he knew to the cops. “The Mouth” was in a league all by himself. A first-class troublemaker. A lot of people wanted him out of the picture and that’s where I came in. Unlike “The Mouth,” I’m not going to say who hired me to do the hit. I will say they paid me a bundle and told me where and when. I was there on the fateful night. It was the kind of night I like: no wind, no moon, no witnesses. And there was the bridge. And the Hudson River, black as an evil intention. And it was two a.m. And because I got there ahead of schedule, it was another hour before Wallace showed up. I saw him approaching in the distance, zigzagging like a snake. He had a bottle in his hand and I don’t know how many under his belt, and you could hear him coming half a mile away. He wasn’t carrying on like a drunk stumbling across in the dark sometimes can: instead I heard a low, deep sobbing, the sounds a man makes when he’s in the throes of despair. All of a sudden he stopped in the middle of the bridge and leaned over the railing. I don’t know what the fuck he was looking at, but he stayed there a good five minutes, his eyes fixed on the black waters of the Hudson. And then it happened. He jumped over the barrier and hurled himself into the water. I reacted the instant I heard the SPLASH. I came out of hiding and rushed over to the edge. I tore my clothes off and jumped into the water before I had time to figure out what was happening. Like a cat with nine lives to burn, I don’t have much respect for the “grim reaper”. For three reasons:

– Because he’s colorless,

– Because he’s odorless,

– Because he’s stupid.

Swimming isn’t exactly my forte, but I managed to reach him. “The Mouth” gave me a hard time at first. I had to persuade him to cooperate with a left, then a right, and then another left. It took his strength and mine to get him to the river bank. Once out of the water, he lay on the ground, gasping and wretching. I dried myself off with my undershirt, then threw it into the water. I got dressed. “The Mouth” was still flailing around when I finished. I lit a cigarette to give him time to come around. When he didn’t show signs of regaining consciousness, I turned him face-down and really put the screws to him, gave him the old heave-ho to flush the river out of him. The guy was a faucet: water just streamed out of him. Finally he got up, swaying and snorting, and managed to say: – “My wife… my wife has left me…” – “Who wouldn’t?” – “Whaaat?”

He broke into a bad coughing fit. When he’d finished punishing his vocal chords, he picked up where he’d started:

– “My wife has left me…” – “How much?” – “Whaaat?”

Though I’d fished him out of the current, he wasn’t exactly following my drift. He was groggier than a boxer down and out for the ten-count. – “There’s plenty of fish in the sea,” I told him. – “That’s what they always say… but there’s nobody like my Mary.” – “They always say that too.” – “Whaaat?” – Don’t mind me.” Then the hiccup symphony started. Every time he hiccupped, he took a step back, the same way the recoil of a gun kicks at you. This guy had hiccups that just wouldn’t quit. Any minute, they were going to knock him on his ass. – “My wife has left me…” he repeated, as though I hadn’t heard him the first two times. “And I’ve gotten drunk… hic… and you wanna know why I’ve gotten drunk?” – “To celebrate?” Another symphony. – “No, no… To work up the courage to kill myself…” he said, shaking his head and managing to drench me in the process. “Am I shocking you?” – “You’re showering me.” The coughing started again. – “It’s crazy… You know something?… Hic… A few minutes ago I wanted to die and now I don’t want to do that anymore. What do you make of that?” – “Stranger things have happened.” He started doing – what do you call ‘em? – warm-up exercises. He not only had his mouth in gear: now he had his legs going too. A real athlete, “The Mouth.” – “Listen, I’m freezing my ass off. I’m soaked to the skin. What do you say we go for a drink?” – “Another one?” – “The Mouth” laughed or bared his teeth, I’m not really sure which. – “You know what I say? To hell with my wife! To hell with that woman! Now, how about that drink?” – “No.” – “Come on, don’t be a wet blanket. The night is still young.” Now he was hopping around like a goddamn kangaroo. He hopped first on one foot, then on the other, then on mine, drenching me the whole time. I half expected “The Mouth” to spit on me next. – “Oh, I get it!” he burst out suddenly, as he stopped jumping. “You’ve got somebody at home waiting for you.” I didn’t answer. – “Married?” he asked. – “To my work,” I answered. More warm-ups and making with the kangaroo number. – “Hey, you’re all right,” he said. “You’re a pal. You saved my life. What did you say your name was?” – “I didn’t say.” The truth is that he was doing most of the talking. He was jabbering away like somebody had wound his mainspring a little too tight. “The Mouth” was living up to his name all right. He was wound up enough to keep talking all night. After a while, though, our little chat came to an end. He gave me a pat on the back and bid me goodnight. – “See you later,” he said, as though we’d been pals all our lives, and then took a few steps to leave. Only a few steps, because then it was my turn to speak. – “See you later… Tom.” He stopped dead in his tracks. He stood there for a moment, still dripping. – “I don’t remember telling you my name. How do you know it?” – “Somebody who wants you told me.” – “Somebody who… wants me?” – “Somebody who wants you dead, Tom Wallace.” He stood there a moment. “The Mouth” had his wide open. A tunnel waiting for the midnight express. – “W-Who are you?” He wasn’t going to like the answer. – “Torelli. Luca Torelli.” He choked back a scream; that’s the kind of night it was. – “Torpedo!” I felt a smile creep across my face. – “I see you’ve heard of me.” I pulled out my piece. I could tell by the look on his face that he recognized the tool of my trade. – “But… but why?” – “Dough.” He’d been swallowing wine and water all night, now he swallowed the lump in his throat. – “Why didn’t… you let me…” – “The Mouth” could barely get the words out– … “drown” in the river? – “I wanted to see what it would feel like to save someone’s life.” I could tell by his puzzled expression that he was all mixed up. He wasn’t putting all the pieces together. He couldn’t figure me out. – “And how… how did it feel?” – “Cold.”

He began backing away from me, drawing closer to the edge of the river. His face went white. That’s what happens to all of them. It’s what I call looking death square in the face. Their eyes get glassy right before. “The Mouth” had gone dry, the mainspring had wound down. I squeezed the trigger and the bullet propelled him backwards. I didn’t even have to throw him into the water. He managed that all by himself. The Hudson carried him off in silence, like it had all the others before him, like it would all the others who would follow. I didn’t jump into the water this time. In the 1930’s, it wasn’t a good idea to fuck with the river, take it from an expert. And you want to know why? For three reasons.

[dead-eye-ranger]

💙Perched like a stray cat on a ledge of a railing with the shadow of the floor above keeping her from view, the willowy vixen sat fiddling with her lighter as she attempted to light her cigarette. Her painted full lips pouting in annoyance as click after click the lighter refused to light, making the cigarette between her lips wilt more and more each time. Until out of the corner of her pale pearly blue eyes she caught sight of someone cautiously coming around the corner of the building she leaned against. Making her pause as she curiously let her gaze follow them as they obviously hadn't noticed her yet, allowing her eyes to rake over their alluring silhouette at her leisure. 💙With an excited twinkle in her eyes the leggy minx silently moved from her seat to walk across the deck to the railing that separated her and the red. Letting her slender frame lean forward flirtatiously against the banister with her chin resting against her cloved knuckles, as she watched him a cat like stare that danced between lustful and teasing. Undoubtedly giving anyone who happened to come up behind her a view they would never forget, as the hem of her already short dress tittered on indecent as it shifted with the way she leaned forward.

💙"Bonjour ma beauté.~" She greeted him in a silk lined purr that matched the feline air that lived every move she made, as she gave her full bottom lip a teasing bite around the flawless smile that light up her young face. "I know zat jou are busy, but jou wouldn't 'appen to 'ave a lighter on jou, would jou?" Acting as if she herself wasn't technically on the clock as well, despite her insistence that she be allowed smoke breaks while working.

Arthur was trailing along an empty flank route, looking for some kind of health pack. He was hit in a few places, a small blood trial no doubt behind him, but he managed to escape the enemy and find his way here.

Taking a brief moment to breathe, the Ranger leaned against a banister to his side, bending over to cough. He watched as blood came from his lips, but he simply growled at it, knowing he'd either die or be healed. Either way, it was more of a nuisance than anything.

Then, someone spoke.

Whirling around, the RED pulled his gun, aiming it at the BLU in front of him. There was anger and panic in his eyes for a brief moment before they melted away into control.

"Th' hell d'you want?" he growled, trying to keep his hand from shaking. "You got a lotta nerve showin' up like this, BLU. I suggest ya run b'fore I send ya back t' spawn."

[cyborg-hydra-girl-thing]

Azar heaved a heavy sigh and eased back on the propulsion for the Mantis’ thrusters, while extending the legs to land the Angel.

It obeyed, though grudgingly. They both had had a long day, and it didn’t want to fly, but it’s legs had been damaged in the fighting today.

This realm was full of Aether, but it was also full of angry wildlife. Not the fun kind either, the kind that lurked and waited till you weren’t looking and dashed in for a swipe here and a bite there, trying to weaken them. The Aether healed them, yes, but it was a slow process and required concentration, which would leave them open to their hunters.

Mantis was an exquisite Angel, one of the finest, in Azar’s opinion. Though they would say that, seeing as Mantis has been custom grown to be a perfect fit for them. Mantis herself was on the smaller side, as far angels went, only about 25 feet tall at her tallest, and lightly armored, but she was capable of extended flight and was incredibly agile. She also boasted an extensive custom arsenal, all grown by Azar themself. Her upper arms bear a rail gun with a wrist machine gun, and her lower arms wield a shield and spear. Her abdomen was loaded with laser guided missiles and the underside has thrusters, that paired with the leg thrusters enabled her to sustain flight for minutes at a time.

Mantis touched down in a wide clearing, giving them both a much needed reprieve from the confines of the jungle, and the predators it was filled with. They’d been dealing with some kind of large cat-thing. They’d killed several, and they were similar to tigers, except nearly 9 feet tall at the shoulder, and their bones extended outside their body, giving them a rough armor that proved very effective at deflecting spear thrusts. They’d finally managed to lose the last of the pack after the alpha had made itself known. Mantis had fought well against it, her rail guns proving once again to be incredibly useful, if somewhat difficult to use.

Unfortunately the latest trainee had been downed and torn apart by the Bone-Tigers. At least this world had enough Aether they’d regenerate rather quickly, but Mantis was in bad enough shape they couldn’t afford to wait the days to weeks it would take. They’d just have to find somewhere to make a world bridge near wherever they ended up.

Speaking of. “Hey Mantis, do you see anywhere around here we can open a bridge?” Azar asked her from inside her torso.

She chittered a quick response back Scanning area for world bridge seams. You really should have marked that one we found earlier. We could have managed.

Azar chuckled and rubbed her console in that spot she liked. “I’m sure we could have. But those bone tigers gave us enough hassle, and took out the kid. Besides you’re not looking so hot big girl. Your legs are torn to shreds practically. Ah see, look there’s one, a couple kilometers that way. We’re practically there already. Do you wanna fly there or take some time to patch your legs up while we’ve got all this Aether?”

We shall attempt to restore me to capacity, few realms are this rich. Please plant a few sensor beacons while I regenerate. Just in case the tigers decide to try their luck again >:3 I STILL HUNGER

Azar chuckled as they exited her torso onto her palm and she lowered them onto the ground. They grabbed a few sensor rods from a pocket on their hip and started going around the corners of the clearing planting them in the ground to listen for vibrations.

“You’re always hungry! I swear, didn’t you already eat today?”

Only a few cows from that realm with the shiny people before we came here. Oh and a Bone-tiger. But they are hard to eat. Picking around all the pointy bits is tedious .

Azar put a hand to their face as they started walking back. “We want them to like us, stop eating their cows. Somebody is going to notice at some point. Come on Mantis, you know better.”

Mmmmmmmmmmm. I only eat Mn’thuz’s cattle. I do not care for them.

Azar sighed again. It’s difficult to argue with her sometimes. “Mn’thuz is kind of an ass yes. But you can’t eat their cattle. They made up with the village remember?” Azar knelt beside her left, more injured leg and began helping with the healing process, channeling the Aether of this world to knit the steel and bone back together.

With village yes. With you no. They killed you thrice. I have not eaten Mn’thuz. This is good yeeesssss??

She cocked her head at him questioningly, her mandibles chittering rapidly with excitement and amusement

“I suppose I’m proud of you for not eating them. Though you know that’s the minimum. Next time we swing by the metalwalker realm you’re going to apologize to them and figure something out to pay them for those cattle. Dragons above what do cattle that shit gold cost?”

Mantis shrugged all 4 of her shoulders in unison.

You are seraphim. What is money to an Angel and her Seraphim?

A quick beeping from a beacon pulled both of their attention from tending to her. Though her left leg was nearly repaired now.

“Start scanning. See if you can get an eye on whatever the sensor is picking up. Roll over, lemme try and repair some of your other leg before it gets here” Azar said after a quick glance.

Mantis rolled her eyes and shifted so he could reach her right lug while she weaved and shifted her head, her eyes shifting colors as they checked different spectrums.

The purple glow from Azar’s palms as they ran their hands over Mantis’ wounds glowed brilliantly, and the steel-flesh knit itself back together, healing her nearly instantly.

It is not the tigers. I think it may be worse however. Picking up a Bone-Rhino on approach

“Oh a Bone-Rhino, are we just prefixing bone to earth creatures now for this realm?”

It seems apropos. This realm seems adjacent to primal earth, though much more interesting.

“You only say that cuz you get to eat these ones”

That is not my only reason. I do not like the idea of snakes bigger than me.

“We’ve been here less than a week, you don’t know there aren’t snakes here.” Azar chuckled to themself as they moved to another tear in her flesh.

I think you should board we do not have much time before the rhino will be on top of us. And not in the fun way

“I regret reaching you euphemisms” Azar leapt onto her palm as she reached down to grab him

Azar entered her torso and she closed around him and they melded together again, joined in harmony with synchronous Aether-forms. A marvel of science and magic, made possible by building Mantis based off of Azar’s own genetic template. She was slightly modified to be compatible with the Angel system, and thus is the bond of Angel and Seraphim.

Azar/Mantis looked to the forest as she gained her footing, and ran through a quick systems check

Rail gun #1: ONLINE

Rail gun #2: ONLINE

Wrist MG #1: ONLINE

Wrist MG #2: ONLINE

Wrist MG #3: ONLINE

Wrist MG #4: ONLINE

Spear: INTACT

Shield: DAMAGED

Abdomen Missile Launcher: ONLINE

Abdomen Thrusters: ONLINE

Head: UNTOUCHED

Left leg: UNTOUCHED

Left leg Thrusters: ONLINE

Right leg: INTACT

Right leg Thrusters: ONLINE

Just as the Bone-Rhino burst into the clearing Mantis lunged forward with her spear, it glanced off the bones growth on the creatures face and skated to left, grazing its shoulder

The rhino grunted and tossed its head, throwing its three large horns dangerously close to Mantis’ torso, though she had already engaged her thrusters, maneuvering herself behind the rhino. Her railguns whined with the charge building as the rhino turned around for another charge.

Mantis fired both railguns, an explosive crack split the air in front of her as twin sonic booms erupted from the barrel of the railguns. The trees around them shook, and several branches shed their leaves. A cloud of dust rose before her, obstructing the visible spectrum. In infrared they saw the rhino’s head explode, the twin bolts carving trails of destruction through the rhino, and it collapsed, lifeless.

Excellent shot Mantis. This one’s a lot less boney it looks like. If you’re still hungry and wanna hang around a bit longer. Azar said to her.

No. I do not wish to attract another predator. They seem to hunt in packs in this realm. We do not do well when engaging large groups with limited visibility. Also I wish to continue to believe there are no snakes on this realm

Azar conveyed his amusement to her via their link. We haven’t even seen any snakeskin. I’m sure this realm is fine.

Mmmmmmmmmm. We shall move on nonetheless. I do not like how eager you seem to find a snake here -.- we will not be visiting the lamia realm again will we? I know that Fate/Time favors them too but… things without feet are weird.

Mantis grumbled back as she flew towards the bridge seam she’d detected

You’re a 25 foot tall human/Angel hybrid that is literally immortal and you’re freaked out by snakes. It’s never not a little bit funny

If only I did not require you to make bridges she chittered idly, then I would truly be the most perfect creation in The Everything

You need me more as a conscience than anything ya big goober.

We established that human morality is a construct that only limits my potential

Potential murder and arson you mean?

It was implied yes. Make the bridge now, we have arrived.

Azar focused on the seam, and imagined a door that was welded shut, and they channeled the local Aether towards unwelding the door. They didn’t really need to visualize it anymore, but it made the process simpler, harder to get distracted.

[osachiyo]

(2/2 I think) (warning: very long, bad grammer, use of too much commas) Another one, the first part is resident evil and whatever, last has a bit of bsd. So I got my hair done and stuff it was my birthday so slay ig. Anyways so I was in a random red truck and then Leon (yes Leon Kennedy from resident evil) jumped in through the car window and said something like "can i use this i can help you get away from the zombies" (I didn't own the car 💀) and I said yes, so we drove and ran over and drove past some zombies and I told him I had guns in my house and supplies so we went over there and my family was ok and alive which I didn't expect them to be but slay, anyways so I got two birthday cakes (two small cakes in two small containers around the size of my hand, plain, no icing, no nothing) and Leon was walking around gathering supplies while I told him he could take whatever I told my family that there was zombies and this guy was a police and gonna help us and told my dad that we need his guns, I took my dad's knife for myself and gave my youngest brother some scissors to defend himself with, my dad disappeared in the bathroom and I was scared because like what if a zombie attacked him while he was shitting and watching tiktok, so me and Leon where like we'll see if he turned and if he did we gonna shoot, he didn't and came into the room, jokingly acted like a zombie (to which I almost blew his head off 💀) my dad goes to get the guns from the safe and tells me the code is 2233, for some reason the lights in the bathroom won't turn on (a bathroom is connected to my parents room which both rooms also have a door to the hallway) and there's some heavy breathing and weird noise then oh wow he's a zombie, I had the option to find Leon or Nikolai (😭) so I choose Nikolai which was easy, I saw him killing a buch of zombies and then trying to dissappear using his ability, he jumped up high asf into the air so I jumped on him so he wouldn't use his ability (he could probualy without me or with me(there was stairs and a railing to a higher ground which i was on so i could jump onto him instead of me also jumping high asf to get onto him) and then the dream ended when I woke up and my mom texted me that my cat was trying to eat my grandpa's cereal from his bowl - Fyodor slanderer anon (wtf was this dream)

AGAIN, HOW DO U GET SUCH INTERESTING DREAMS.... I'd die to see Leon or any bsd characters in my dreams 😭😭😭 ALSO BSD APOCALYPSE AU??? 🤔🤔🤔

[pettyprocrastination]

Kiss The Barrel Before I Reload

pairing: Gracie x Fem!Reader

word count: 2k 

warnings: smut, cursing, guns, typical themes of the wild west. wlw in yee old yeehaws. 

Summary: Gracie joins a poker game in the parlor and meets a new face that’s bound to capture her interests. 

an: @frannyzooey​​ take me to church series was so amazing and soft and sexy and filled with such magnificent character’s id be a goddamn FOOL if i didn’t fall in love with at least one of them. (I actually fell in love with all of them, but Gracie has a special place) This is a little something something I wrote for her OC Gracie and a fem!reader that I honestly want to write more for because Gracie is just so *kissing noises* and I also love me so intimidating woman. Kelli I hope you enjoy this and I did right by you because your writing is just beautiful and I can only hope to write like you some day. 

------

    Gracie liked gambling men. 

    Well, she enjoyed gambling itself. Her job made her skilled in reading people, knowing what they wanted, how they wanted and who they wanted it from. She knew it all just from the way they looked at the women of the parlor and shifted in their seats. Reading their tells is just as easy. She would happily sit down at a table in a free hour, men dissuaded by her curves and sweet smile and let her play with a light laugh and “sure honey, give it your best shot” before the hour was over and they were rubbing their heads as she collected her wins, trying to figure out how the fuck a little thing like her swindled them so easily. 

    But gambling men were good for money. Slipping her arms around the man who will win in just a few rounds with a soft “need some company handsome?” knowing that he’ll reward her with a hefty tip after spending an hour with her alone. Consoling the once overly confident men who lost with sweet kisses on their necks and bruised egos, taking their hand in hers and leading them upstairs with promises of making them feel better. 

    Which is why when she saw the two men seated downstairs from the railing, she made a beeline for the one she did not know. One of them, named Westley, she knew quite well. He was hunched over the table, brow furrowed and glaring at the cards in his hand. Frustrated. Angry. Losing. 

    His friend was quite the opposite. Sat back in his chair, limbs stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam. One hand holding his cards while the other hung at his side, occasionally beating out a rhythm on his leg. 

    Relaxed. Confident. Winning. 

    Gracie approached the man from behind, leaning down to coo in his ear. “You looking for company honey?” 

    Westley chortled and nodded to the man across from him. “I wouldn’t bother, girl.” 

    She pursed her lips. Such a sore loser already and the game wasn’t even done. 

  Gracie sighed. “Well I’m sure your friend can answer for himself, Westley. Can’t you, dear?” She cupped a hand under the man’s jaw, tilting so his eyes met hers and-     

    Oh. 

    She took in the long lashes that covered the cold eyes staring back at her. Sun stained clothes that hung off your body, but gave her enough mercy to see the curve of your chest from the three undone buttons and the dark skin beneath it. 

    A woman. 

    You took in her shock and leaned into her hand. Crooked teeth bared in a sardonic smile. 

    “Aw, what’s the matter, honey?” you rasped. “I ain’t pretty enough for you?”

    Before she had a chance to speak, to collect herself and say that you were    plenty pretty enough for her in that sweet voice and sultry smile that made men curl into her arms, you had already turned back in your chair. 

    “I’m not lookin’ to waste the money I just got.”

    Westley scoffed, eyes raking over her body without an ounce of subtlety, just as he did every time he came in. “I’d hardly call a sweet thing like her a waste of money. Why don’t you come on over here and take a seat, beautiful?” He patted his thigh. “Come be my goodluck charm.” 

    Gracie smiled and held out her hand. But before he had the chance to reach her, she pulled it back, making him frown. “You gonna share the prize money with me, Wes?” 

    Westley pursed his lips in a face of feigned hurt. “Why, I wouldn't dream of doing anything else. Shit, you turn my luck around and I just might keep you.”

    His promises were thin, she knew it from experience. He wasn’t one to tip, only paying the minimum before wearing her out until his time was up and he was leaving without a word. He wasn’t generous, she knew well, with money, nor pleasure. 

    But he paid, and that’s what mattered. 

    Gracie threw her leg over his lap, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders and nuzzles his neck with a soft sigh. Even as his free hand crept up her skirt and gripped the soft skin of her thigh, you never looked up from the cards in your hand. 

    “Don’t hold your breath, girl.” A soft mumble of your lips, Gracie just barely able to hear it over the noise of the parlor. “Idiot might not have anything left once I’m done.” 

    You weren’t pretty. 

    It’s what she realized when she finally got a good look at you, sitting across from you in another man’s lap as he cursed and fumbled with his cards. Weather beaten skin laden with scars that slithered under your clothes. A sharp jaw with an even sharper nose, that would have been regal if it wasn’t accompanied with sickly yellow bruises along the bone. Lips that would have looked sweet and inviting in a small smile, like the ones women would flash her from the bar, far too nervous to take the first step but hoping she would. 

    Instead they split into a harsh grin, baring crooked teeth to your opponent in a way that reminded her of a fox in a henhouse. 

    “You sure you wanna keep playin’, Wes?” You glanced up from your cards to meet Gracie’s eyes and she felt herself grow wet on Westley’s lap. “If you stop now, you might have just enough for five minutes with her.” 

    No, you weren’t pretty. 

    Handsome. She realized, while staring at the dried blood on the split skin of your lip and the way your tongue would flick out to taste it. You were oh so dangerously handsome. 

    She shifted her hips against Westly, an unconscious movement when she found herself staring at your fingers for a moment too long and thinking about what they’d feel like on her, instead of the harsh hand that seized her waist the moment she moved. 

    “Dammit girl.” His fingers pinched her side as he grew hard beneath her and dropped his head low. “Stay still, I can’t focus with you doin’ all that.”   

    “Why?” Gracie, ever the spitfire, spoke before thinking. “You were already losing before.” 

    The corner of your lips turned up and she felt a flush of pride. 

    Westley bristled. “Watch that mouth,” he forced through clenched teeth. “You’re mine after this, you better remember that.”     A dark warning to be sure, but she was too focused on the way your smile dropped at his threat. 

    She raised her hand to gently cup the side of his face. “I’m sorry, honey.” Gracie pressed her lips to his cheek with a low mumble of ‘I didn’t mean to’ that made the man grow calm and nod briskly before picking up his cards again. 

    She said nothing about the way your eyes caught the corner of his cards as he pulled them back to his chest, nor the way you pulled the brim of your hat low over your face to hide your smile. Minutes later, your cards were laid bare on the table as you collected your winnings while Westley threw his to the ground. 

    “You’re a fucking cheat!” 

    Gracie barely had time to slip off his lap before he was up from his chair and pointing a finger at you. “Nobody wins like that with a clean hand!”         You didn’t spare her a second glance as you began to collect the money from the table and slip it into your pocket. “I do.” 

    “The hell you do! You must've done something. Had something, I’m-” 

    Westley turned to Gracie with a wild look in his eyes. 

    “You helped her!” 

    “No she didn’t.” You stuffed the final bill into your pocket and scoffed. “Just cause I’m not easily distracted by a nice pair of tits like you doesn’t mean she’s the reason you lost. You just can’t play for shit.” 

    His face turned red as the man around guffawed and hooted at your jab. 

    “You fucking cunt!” 

    He reached for his gun, shouting profanity and-

    Your revolver was already tucked under his chin before his hand could even graze the holster at his side. 

    “You just spent an hour gambling with me, old boy.” You dig the barrel into his jaw with flat eyes. “You so eager to do it again?” Your thumb pulled the hammer back, click echoing in the now silent parlor. “Believe me when I say losing this round will cost you a hell of a lot more than some petty cash.” 

    Westley’s eyes shot around the room, as if in search of help. But everybody, the women and their clients, even the madam at the top of the stairs, stood still as the dead. 

    You looked over at Gracie, wide-eyed and desperate for somebody, something to happen, to break the hold you had on them all because the wait was the most painful thing she’d suffered in ages before your free hand reached into your pocket and pulled out a small portion of your prize money. 

    “That should be enough for an hour or two.” You pulled your gun away from Westley and slipped it back into the holster, allowing the room to breathe once more. “Consider it a consolation prize.” 

    Nobody moves, even as you turned on your heel and walked out of the parlor. Gracie watched you turn to offer her one last nod of your head before pushing through the door and out into the street. 

    The moment the doors closed, life returned into the building. Women murmured to themselves, asking one another if any of them knew who that was while their madam snapped at them to return to their patrons or go in search of a new one. 

    Westley snatched the money off of the table, thumbing through it before shoving it into Gracie’s hand and stomping upstairs. She counted it and blew out a breath. It was more than enough for two hours, in fact. 

    Gracie’s time that you had given to Westley, was spent thinking of you. As he nursed his bruised ego by making Gracie shriek with every sharp snap of his hips and a tight grip on her throat, she thought of you. The woman with a rough voice and quick fingers who was more than ready to kill a man in a room full of whores. 

    She thought of your eyes, empty and indifferent, even as you threatened the life of another man. She thought of your eyes on her, the way they narrowed as you smiled into her hand when she tilted your head up to her and what would have happened if she had been quicker? If she had said you were more than pretty enough for her. 

    Would you have let her slip onto your lap? Let her hands run over your chest and toy with the silver cross that hung from your neck and along the slope of your breasts, just peeking out from the opening of your shirt. Would you have awarded her for your win with an hour together? 

    Gracie tilted her hips against Westleys as she conjured up the image in her mind and cried out. 

    Oh. What a pretty picture you would be together. 

    She imagined those dark eyes fluttering shut as she licked and sucked at your skin, that rough voice groaning out praise and deft hands gripping onto her like a lifeline as you both rose and fell together in tandem. She imagined knocking the hat off your head as she tangled her hands in your dark curls while she kissed you. Slotting a thigh between your legs and holding your hips as you rut against her. She imagined kissing the scar on your neck as your head fell back while you came. 

    For a moment, it was your hand wrapped around her throat, not that of a sore loser from a poker game. It was your voice grunting and moaning and it was your fingers reaching down to rub at her clit, not her own. 

    She wondered if you would finish her off after your own climax. Sweat slicked skin pressed against her own as your fingers joined her own with a soft order of “you can do it baby, I know you can.” 

    Not leaving her wanting. Desperate and needy and unsated like the man who came on her back before dressing himself and leaving without another word. 

    As she slipped into the bath, soothing the bruises with hot water and cleaning herself with a rag, Gracie wondered if you would be back. The thrill of seeing you, a woman, confident and strong and so unapologetically lethal sent a thrill down her spine. Even now, hours later as she dried off and slipped into her night clothes. 

     There was always a poker game going on downstairs. She told herself. Next time you gambled, she hoped she would be on the winning side. 

[itsthestutterforme]

The Next Step Part Two

Summary: A few kids were able to hear Hanseok's screams in the abandoned house Vincenzo left him in. They called the ambulance in time to take him to the hospital. Months later, Hanseok tracks Y/N down at a party with Han and tries to kill her. Han had something else in mind.

Notes: mention of Jang Hanseok, mentions of Vincenzo plots, SMUT warning, 18+, minors DNI, GIF is not mine

--

Despite it being months since Vincenzo's call saying that Hanseok was dead, Han still kept his eye on you. Once he saw you actively looking for apartments, he squashed it and said that you could keep each other company. Something fluttered in you when he said that he was willing to do anything to keep you safe.

For once, you enjoyed someone staking claim over you. With Han, he respects your individuality and free will. He doesn't restrain you from doing anything but when he thinks you're doing something dangerous, he'll keep you company.

Sean thinks that Han will ask you out or something but you said that wasn't going to happen he only saw you as a friend and he was still in love with Giselle. Sean asked Han the same thing and he was said similar things. So Sean decided to leave you two alone and let you two figure it out ourselves.

"Put something cute on, we're going to a party." Han says, poking his head in to see you doing yoga. "Who are you trying to be flexible for?" He asks. "For me, Han. Yoga calms me." You say, lifting one leg and tucking it on your pelvic bone in the tree pose. Han steps into the room and pushes you into the cushion in front of you.

"Han!" You scold. "Come on, Sean is waiting for us." He says, turning his back to leave but you jump on his back instead. You grab the chips from his hand and jump off his back to make a run for it but he already grabs you. The back of your knees hit the bed, sending you both hurdling onto the bed.

Your hair fans around your head as you stare up at him. A smile tugs on his lips and he asks, "Is that where you wanted this to go?" You were completely baffled by the fact that his hips were hovering over yours and his chocolate brown eyes drifting between your lips and your eyes.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" "Something like that." He leans in so close you could practically taste him. Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart bangs against your chest but your find yourself pulling him closer until your lips collide with his. A softly sigh into the kiss and he plants a hand on either side of you.

You were just getting used to him lips against yours when his phone starts to ring. He pulls away with a grumble and answers his phone with a sharp what. You smile up at him and you could hear Sean asking where you guys were through the phone but Han leans down to give you a few more kisses in response.

"We'll be there. Don't get your boxers in a twist," Han says against your lips. He ends the call and kisses you once more before getting up from the bed. "Get dressed."

"Roger that," you say, sliding to the edge of the bed. "You want your chips back?" "I'm actually in the mood for dessert, but I'll gladly wait until later tonight." He says, giving you a once over.

Feeling a bigger sense of pride, you walk up to him and press the bag of chips into his chest. "I'm going to take a shower, care to join?" You ask. "If I do that, we're definitely not making it to the party.

**

Han and Y/N finally pick up Sean thirty minutes later and he immediately felt a change in the vibe between you two. And he definitely noticed the stolen glances and smiles you would send each other. But he didn't say anything until he was alone with Han.

"So what happened between you two?" Sean asks before taking a swig of beer. "What are you talking about?" Han asks, trying to keep it cool by having his back leaning against the railing and not staring at her like he wanted to do. But at least Sean has eyes on her.

Han has body guards trained on her at all times but he still worries for her. It's like he can finally breath when he sees her. "Alright, well what if I tell you she was talking with a pretty good looking guy right now?" "She's her own person. I don't control anything she does." Han answers, popping a chip into his mouth.

"Oh, look at that, he's snaking an arm around her waist." Sean teases and Han wiped his head around so fast, Sean felt whiplash by just witnessing it. Han looked to see you softly swaying her hips to the music as you sipped on your Sake. No man in sight. Once Han realized that he rolled his eyes at Sean but couldn't hide the sigh of relief that left his lips.

"So what changed between you two?" Sean repeats. "We kissed. And it felt so addicting like smoking my first cigarette. I just want to keep kissing her until I can't breathe. And it scares me man." Han says, crunching on more chips.

Sean's eyebrow furrows when he realizes that you were gone and your normal guards are nowhere in sight. "Han, she's gone." Sean says. "Cut the shit. It's not funny."

"No, I'm serious. Look." Han looks at you were a few minutes ago to see . Little did they know that Hanseok tracked you down and followed them into the club.

He bought off Han's guards so you became easy access. Then he just pulled you into a room and shoved you in. Crawling away from him on the floor, you frantically searched for anything you could use as a weapon. Then your eyes fall on a mirror.

"You almost killed me, you know. Vincenzo nearly did it, but he was so caught up on making me suffer as you requested, that it gave me the chance to be saved." Hanseok explains, pulling off his hoodie to show his scarred body.

"Oh God," you whimper. "I'm going to enjoy this," He says, pulling a knife from his belt. You stand up in a wide stance and put your hands up so you could deflect his blows. Your hands were shaking, your worst nightmare has come to life but you can't forget what Vincenzo taught you after he left Korea.

He came to Japan to visit you and see how you were doing. In return for assisting with Hanseok's execution, he taught you how to defend yourself from any deadly weapon. "What? You really think you're going to fight me?"

"The days where I cower from you are over, Hanseok. You want to kill me? Go ahead and try." You snark, shifting your weight from one foot to the next as you waited for him to strike. "Where the hell could she be? She was just here!" Han snaps, looking around the crowd frantically.

You scrambled out of the room with blood sprayed across your neck from when she stabbed Hanseok in the chest with a piece of glass. He should be dead but knowing that he has a vendetta, he's not going to die so easily. You spot Han in the crowd and ran towards him.

"What the hell happened?" "H-hanseok, he's still alive. He tried to kill me." You whimpered, tears building in your eyes. "Where is he?" Han asked. You could see his eyes darken with anger but chose not to question it. You took his hand and followed him into the room where Hanseok held his chest heaving.

Han took out his phone to call DK who answered on the first ring. "Bring your gun. We have some business to take care of." Han says coldly. "Take her back to my place and don't leave her side until I get there." Han says to Sean, talking as if you weren't standing right there.

"No, I'm staying with you." You start, grabbing a hold of his arm. "I don't want you to see me like this," Han says, pulling his arm away hesitantly. "Come on, Y/N." Sean says and Han reassured, "I'll be fine." You nodded before following Sean to the car.

**

Hours passed and you were on the verge of taking Han's car and going back to the club when Han slowly walks through the door. Sean and you looked at him with wide eyes when you notice blood splattered across his clothes and face. He was practically drenched in it.

"You can take my car back home, Sean. I won't be leaving for a while." Han says softly and Sean nods his head, choosing not the say a word. He leaves the apartment and you spring to your feet. You try to cup his face to get a good look at him but he moves away.

"Han," "Let me get cleaned up first," he walks passed you and turns on the shower. You wait on the couch for him to finish his shower, chewing on the inside of your cheeks nervously. He finally walks back in with black sweatpants and a white tank top.

"I'm headed to bed. It's been a long day." He says. "Don't do that. Talk to me. Please." You say, standing in his way. "What happened?" You add.

"Do you really want to know?" "I want to know if you're okay." "Well I don't want to talk about it. Good night." He dismissed before walking upstairs to his room.

You respected his decision and decided to stay in the living room with a clear view of the door. Just in case Hanseok crawls out of his grave and finds his way back to you again. Truthfully, you didn't feel the need to sleep. But after you became hyper-vigilant of the door, your eyes closed on their own.

You woke to a soft hand touching your cheeks. Gasping away, you grab Han's hand. "Hey, relax, it's just me." He says and you loosen your grip on him. Sitting up, you tuck your knees into your chest. "What are you doing awake?" You ask.

"I couldn't sleep." He says, followed by a long silence. "Thank you, for doing that for me. I don't know how to repay you." You say. "You don't have to repay me." "Of course I do. What you did is traumatic. It'll effect you in ways I can't fix." "As long as you're by my side, Y/N. I can get through anything."

"Han," you start, but he turned your chin so you are facing him. "I love you," he says, making your heart flutter. You lean forward and pressed your lips to him. Piling yourself in his lap, you pull away to say, "I love you too."

He stands from the couch and carries you into the bedroom, occasionally pecking you on the way. He lays down on the bed and you straddled his lap. You unbuttoned your shirt and let it fall off your shoulders. Your hands found his chest but he sits up and rolls so you are laying on your back.

He glances down at your bare chest before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. Your head falls onto his soft pillow as he continued to work on your sensitive nub. He pulls away with a satisfying pop before blowing cool air and pressing a soft kiss to your nipple.

He does the same to the other breast and your back arches off of the bed, gasping when your clothes buckle rubs against his crotch. He kisses down the line of your stomach before pulling off your fleece shorts, leaving more kisses in it's wake. He settles himself in between your legs and props your legs on his shoulder.

"Oh God," you whine when he laps your folds painfully slow and kitten licks your clit before lapping your fold again. Your hand rakes through his fine hair and he links one of his hands with yours, resting it on your stomach. You rolled your hips at the same time his kitten licked you clit and your legs spasm as you release yourself into his mouth.

"You taste amazing, ojo." He says. He uses his thumb to part your folds before going to work on your clit much faster now. "Han! Oh God, oh God, oh God," you chant as your grip on his hair tightens and you lift your hips off the bed. He push you back down gently and unlinks his hand with yours so his body could shadow over yours.

His free hand rubs circles on your clit and you moan into his mouth. "Han, please." "Shh, chisana hana." You moan at his pet name for you. Little flower. I think it fits. He captures your lips in a slow kiss that you were so caught up in, you didn't even notice that he pulled off his pants and started to pump himself.

He gently parts your legs and slides the tip along your folds to gather your juices. He slides himself in and your toes curl as his dick brushes up against a sensitive spot in your pussy. He waits for you to adjust and you signal him to move by nodding softly. His thrust are slow but deep and he buries his face into your neck.

You rest your hands on his lower back and he continued to rub your clit as he thrusted into you. A whine leaves your lips as you come apart under him but he continues to thrust into you. He lifted one leg over his shoulder and kept the other one hooked around his waist.

Digging your nails into his back, he moans and arches his back, digging himself deeper into you. "Of fuck," he moans into your neck and thrusting into you faster until you came undone once again. You were seeing stars as he cums after three hard thrusts.

He pulls out of you and lays down next to you, nuzzling himself into you neck and leaves soft kisses. The entire time, it felt like you were floating on a cloud. His touches felt light as a feather but burned into your skin the more he touched you.

It was nothing like sex with Hanseok. Han puts your needs before his own and he actually takes care of you in ways you didn't even know were possible. "Can I tell you something?" "Sure," you lay on your side, resting your hand on the side of your face.

"I think I fell for you and it scares the hell out of me." He confesses and you reach over to trace the side of his face. He waits for you to say something and a soft smile plays on your lips. "I think I fell for you as soon as we met. But we don't have to rush anything. We have nothing but time." You say softly.

"Come here," he says,.opening his arms and you wrap your arms around his neck, hiking your leg over his waist.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

dancing on dreams, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, (very) minor jungkook x reader

summary: The wrong guy shows up in your car – Jeon Jungkook. Big sigh. He’s drunk out of his mind and blabbering away. Then the right guy who you’re supposed to pick up, Min Yoongi, says Jungkook’s apartment is on the way. Might as well drop off passed-out Jungkook and make sure he’s okay. Or Yoongi could fuck you on Jungkook’s bed. That also works.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, tiny bit of crack; alcohol consumption; smut (fem reader, fingering, f-receiving oral, penetrative sex); fluff; non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers? with Yoongi; you two fuck slightly on top of and next to sleeping Jungkook, tsk tsk; technically JK is in his red My Time outfit lol

repost, originally called ‘a–dick–ted’  and then I realized tumblr doesn’t like that lmao

--

now playing – don’t threaten me with a good time by panic! at the disco

“I’m not as think as you drunk I am.”

That’s what Jeon Jungkook slurred to you as he flopped into your passenger’s seat, the stench of alcohol so strong you recoiled. He was wearing a thin red blazer and his sheer black shirt was missing half the top buttons, revealing his tan, muscular pecs.

Also, he wasn’t supposed to be in your car.

“Get out.”

Jungkook hiccupped and squinted at you. “Noona! What’s up? I didn’t expect to see you here,” he continued, completely ignoring your annoyed look. “I thought you didn’t party.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s because I don’t. I’m picking someone up. Get out of my car.”

He shot two finger guns at you. “Eyy, that could be me.”

“It most certainly is not you, Jeon Jungkook. Now yeet yourself out of my car, please.”

He spread his legs, red slacks way too tight for him and his thick thighs and calves. He was wearing patent black leather oxfords as well. The only reason Jungkook bothered to look this good was to get attention. You sighed loudly. You shouldn’t have left your doors unlocked. You had been waiting outside the party house for only ten minutes. Lights and laughter boomed from the home, livening the late night. Too many drunk people were making out on the porch. It was a fucking mess. A minute ago, you were alone, playing on your phone, only to hear the door click and to see the wrong person saunter into your car.

Jungkook slapped his thighs and you flinched, looking away.

“Hey, I thought we were cool,” he grinned, tilting his head. His long black hair was half-tied back, curly from sweat. “I only tried to kiss you that one time.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, you tried to put your hands down my pants, you manwhore.”

Jungkook made a disgusted face. “Whoa, hey, no, no. I’m not a manwhore.”

Your eyebrows rose so high you thought they left your face.

“Your harem says otherwise.”

You pointed outside your car. Seven girls were clinging to the railing, staring at Jungkook in your car. Jungkook turned his head and grinned, waving. Then he abruptly shook it, turning back to you.

You gave him a deadpan stare.

He struggled to complete a full sentence. “What I’m saying is…” Five full seconds of Jungkook trying to conjure five brain cells and failing. “Yeah, okay, I kiss people and touch and stuff…” You were ready to punch him out of your car. “But I’m a…” Hiccup. He looked slightly green.

Then he opened your car door and stuck his head out, vomiting.

“Ugh, gross,” you frowned, repulsed. You looked around your car and found a half-full water bottle in your cup holder. Jungkook turned around and you shoved it into his face, shooing him.

“Rinse out your mouth before you speak to me again, animal.”

Jungkook stared at the water bottle and took it, grimacing. Then he unscrewed the cap, placed it to his lips, and took a big gulp, sloshing it in his mouth before gargling and spitting onto the grass. You looked away, shaking your head.

Ew.

Not to mention he just indirectly kissed you.

Double ew.

You heard him do it again and then noisily drink the rest, crushing the plastic with suction. You turned back to see Jungkook shoot the crumpled plastic bottle out your car.

“What the fuck? Why did you litter?” you scowled.

Jungkook looked out the window, surprised. “Oh. You’re right. Sorry.”

You narrowed your eyes. Out of your peripheral vision, you noticed Jungkook’s harem rush to the fallen water bottle, claiming it triumphantly like crows to a shiny bit of aluminum foil. Okay, well… at least it wasn’t litter.

He cleared his throat, pointing at you. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m not a–”

“Dirty little fuckboy?”

His head jerked back, dark brown eyes narrowing at you.

“How do you read my mind?” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes.

“Anyway, I’m a virgin.”

You blinked at him and his half-open shirt.

“What?”

Jungkook grinned at you and gave you two thumbs up. “Eyyy.”

Your jaw dropped, but before you could say anything else, you heard a sharp tapping at the driver’s seat window. Two pointed, dark brown eyes squinted at you, frowning. Oh. The person you were actually supposed to pick up. His upper lip upturned a bit, giving him a kitten-like pout.

“Why is there vomit on the passenger’s side and why is Jeon Jungkook passed out next to you?”

You started your car and rolled your window down, grimacing at Min Yoongi. He was wearing a black and navy bomber jacket, white shirt, and distressed black jeans. Ah, his hair was black again. You always told him he looked best in black hair. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“I left my doors unlocked for you and he just waltzed in.”

Yoongi looked past you. “He looks dead.”

You snapped your head back. “He was awake a sec–”

Jungkook was asleep, mouth open, half-slid down the passenger’s seat. Absolutely gone.

You heard Yoongi open the backseat door and slide in. He smelled like whiskey and his pale face was a bit pink, but he didn’t seem as drunk as Jungkook.

“Well, he lives in my building, so I guess we’ll just take him home,” Yoongi said absentmindedly.

You shot him a pained look. “Yoongi, why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s the moral thing to do?”

You groaned and began to drive.

-

“You have to help me carry him.”

“I most certainly will not. He’s your friend.”

“You will.”

Five minutes later, you and Min Yoongi were dragging Jeon Jungkook’s dead weight up three flights of stairs, absolutely hating life, and wondering why you decided to wear your heeled black ankle boots today. Sure, they weren’t insanely high, but they weren’t the right shoes for the job. Plus, your flared red miniskirt and gray cropped long-sleeve weren’t helping either. Your shirt had a cat graphic on it that said, “go away,” with two middle fingers.

You felt it described you very well, actually.

Finally, after having made it to the metal door of Jungkook’s apartment, Yoongi crammed his hand into Jungkook’s tight pants’ pockets, feeling around.

“Key’s on your side.”

“I’m not touching him any more than necessary.”

Jungkook raised his head for a half-second, eyes barely open.

“Where’d the party go?” he mumbled and then dropped his head into your shoulder. His chiseled jaw cut into your flesh, alcohol-stained breath against your cheek.

“Save me from this hell, Yoongi.”

Yoongi chuckled deeply and reached around Jungkook’s waist. The back of his hand brushed against your hip and you flinched, eyes flickering to him. His pink lips curved into a crafty smirk. You rolled your eyes and waited as Yoongi yanked Jungkook’s keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door.

“Come on, Jungkook, step please,” Yoongi murmured softly, nudging Jungkook’s legs with his own. Jungkook groaned, head lolling.

“He’s dead,” you muttered as the two of you lugged him into the apartment. “Let’s leave and let the Grim Reaper find him.”

Yoongi ignored your complaining. He lowered himself, throwing Jungkook’s full weight on you. You grunted, extremely disgruntled, as you fell against the wall, using it as support. You had to hold Jungkook’s upper arms to keep him upright, squeezing his hard biceps. His hips hit you in the lower stomach. Ow. Yoongi closed the door and locked it, meandering on where to put the keys, settling on the hook next to the door.

“I’m going to be crushed to death. Is this guy made out of rocks or something?”

Yoongi continued to ignore you, crouching down to remove Jungkook’s shoes. You sighed loudly, staring up at the ceiling. If Jungkook wasn’t Yoongi’s friend, you probably would have pushed him into his own vomit and let the she-wolves have him.

Alright, no, you wouldn’t have, but you weren’t happy about these current events either.

You jumped as you felt Yoongi’s large hand encircle your left calf. You jerked your head down to see him staring up at you, raising an eyebrow. His fingertips kneaded your bare skin slowly. You narrowed your eyes at him and he reached for the zipper of your black boot, sliding it down. One first and then the other, hand holding your calf the entire time. Then Yoongi stood up, dark brown eyes observing you with a spark of amusement. You thinned your mouth into a line and abruptly kicked your shoes off in his direction. Yoongi dodged you easily, smirking.

Jungkook shivered and slumped, his shoulder blades hitting your sternum.

“Motherfuc–”

Yoongi laughed, pink gums flashing, and grabbed Jungkook by the armpit, hauling him up.

“Let’s get him to the bed.”

“I’m ready to chuck him to the floor,” you hissed, rubbing your chest ruefully.

Using the last of your patience, Yoongi and you managed to dump Jungkook onto his bed. Thankfully Jungkook’s apartment was tiny and somewhat clean, so you didn’t have to go very far. You sat on the edge of the bed, panting, as Yoongi calmly removed Jungkook’s blazer and tossed it aside. He gently slapped Jungkook’s face, and Jungkook made a noise like a dying duck.

“Hm, he’s pretty far gone.”

“No shit, you think?” You prodded the soft navy sheets of Jungkook’s bed. They were pretty nice. Maybe you could find the tag and write down the brand later.

Yoongi adjusted the taller man so he was on his side. He looked down at him, pursing his lips.

“We should stay for a bit. Make sure he doesn’t choke.”

You groaned, slapping the bed impatiently. “Who cares, Yoongi? He did this to himself!”

Yoongi smiled, walking around the bed towards you. Jungkook started to snore. Very loudly. His dark hair was curled around his forehead, his long lashes fluttering.

“See? He’s not dead.”

You stiffened as you felt Yoongi stand in front of you, his hand tracing your cheek to turn your head to face him. Your eyes shifted from Jungkook’s sleeping form to Yoongi’s sly smirk. His slightly rounded cheeks were still tinted pink.

“Shh, don’t complain. I’m here with you,” he said softly, caressing your cheek.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You owe me.”

He leaned down, eyes shimmering with amusement. “That I do.”

And then he kissed you, inhaling your scent and tasting like whiskey. You sighed softly into his mouth, licking his soft lips and pressing back against him. You forgot how it started, really. Perhaps a passing touch? An accidental brush of his fingers against yours? His knee leaning against your thigh for a little too long? Your hand holding onto his shoulder to grab something, maybe a little too tightly? Soon it had become a game of cat and mouse, sneaking hints of each other in innocent public gatherings. Your clothed breasts pressing against his back, trying to squeeze past. His hand brushing against your hip, fingertips tracing the waistband of your pants.

It didn’t really have a name. You two just did it, relying on eye contact, seeing the reaction of the other, spurred on by more and more dangerous actions, upping the ante. Shorter and shorter skirts, his fingers touching your bare thigh, making you shiver.

Yoongi placed a hand on your thigh now, sliding it up. You slapped yours over it, drawing back a little from his intense kiss.

“We’re on Jungkook’s bed,” you breathed, cocking your head towards the sleeping male.

Jungkook snorted in his sleep.

Yoongi grinned. “So?” His dark eyes dangerous, so dangerous. “Bet you still want it.”

He pulled his hand out from under you and put them on your knees, eyes locked with yours. You gave him a warning glare but he spread your legs, lifting your knees up and back. You fell onto your elbows, gasping as he tilted his head, licking his lips as he viewed the wet spot of your red silk panties.

“You wore the nice ones today,” he observed. “Excited to see me?”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Maybe I just like being pretty for myself.”

Yoongi smirked, getting onto the bed, crawling over you. “You’re already pretty. You don’t need clothes for that.”

Your felt your ears burn at the compliment. You reached up to pull his head down so he could kiss you again, hungry, deep kisses as he lifted your hips, pressing the wet spot on his bare thigh where a massive hole had been ripped in his jeans. You moaned softly, feeling him grind into your soaking pussy.

“I love those jeans,” you whispered, grinning.

Yoongi chuckled. “Me too.”

Snoring Jungkook rolled over and his leg smacked against your elbow.

Yoongi reached down and eased your panties to one side, pressing his thigh against your bare slit. You whimpered quietly, rocking your hips into his leg, stimulating your clit. He continued to kiss you, light, feathery kisses, playing with your tongue and lips, gently nipping at your skin.

“Don’t you feel nice?” Yoongi purred. “Doing something wrong?”

You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows. “Isn’t that what we always do?”

Yoongi kissed down your neck, humming. Your elbow rubbed against Jungkook’s leg as Yoongi began to suck on your flesh, making your back arch. His tongue licked at your hot skin and he blew on it, sending shivers down your spine. He slid down, removing his leg, and replaced it with his hand, pressing it into your wet heat. You gasped, sliding down, arm pressed against Jungkook’s muscular thigh and calf.

“I love the sounds you make,” Yoongi whispered, breath tickling your skin. “Music to my ears.”

He slid a finger into you.

“A-ah, Yoongi…” You clutched the sheets, catching a bit of Jungkook’s pants in your grip.

He thrust it in and out of you, slow, pushing your shirt and bra up. Licking your nipples lightly, watching you tilt your head back, eyes closed. He inserted another into your tight, wet hole, feeling you clench around them, sucking him in.

“So sexy,” he mumbled around your nipple, pushing it with his tongue. “So fuckable.”

You gasped as he increased the pace, simultaneously sucking on your nipple. The wrongness of it all made it even better, pleasure mounting fast as you felt your stomach tighten, so close, Yoongi knowing all the best spots to melt you. You breathed his name, pussy tightening as you came, soaking his fingers with your slick juices, humping his hand slightly.

He thrust into you a few more times, slowly, before sliding out and placing them in his mouth, sucking off your taste. He smirked.

“Turn over.”

You exhaled before trying to roll to your right. Yoongi stopped you.

“Other way.”

You frowned. “Jungkook’s there.”

Yoongi grinned mischievously.

“Yoongi…”

He licked his lips, purring your name. So sweet, so enticing.

You let out a puff of air and lifted yourself to your elbows. You turned your head, seeing Jungkook’s head flopped to the side, mouth open. The sharp line of his jaw, his pouty pink lips, his closed eyes. Still very not elegantly snoring away, and yet you noticed the way his dark hair curled around his forehead, his tiny ponytail mussed from being asleep.

“He likes you, you know,” Yoongi said.

You snorted. “He’s upset I’m not trying to make out with him so he’s trying to touch my lady bits.”

“Same thing.”

You turned your head back, seeing Yoongi shrug out of his bomber jacket. “Did you know he’s a virgin?”

Yoongi’s dark eyebrows raised. “Oh? Interesting.”

You shrugged. “Well, that’s what he said in my car anyway. I don’t know if it’s true.”

Yoongi chuckled. “It probably is. Jungkook’s sappy like that.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Needs to be the love of his life and stuff.”

You tilted your head at him. “And you?”

Yoongi smiled at you. “I don’t need that. I only need you.��

Your heart tightened in your chest. “Hah, right.”

Yoongi leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You think I’m lying, but you know it’s true. I always have the most fun with you.”

You scrunched your face and felt Yoongi grab your shirt, yanking it and your bra over your head. You puffed your cheeks at his insistence, but Yoongi grabbed your breasts, rubbing his thumbs onto your hardened nipples. You moaned into his mouth, kissing him back, tongue against tongue, drinking him in. He nudged you to your left.

“Come on…”

You sighed against his lips. “Alright, alright, you bad boy.”

He smirked as you rolled over, careful not to touch Jungkook’s thighs and placing your hands on either side of his hips. Your knees ended up in between his, tightly together. Jungkook’s sheer shirt had eased out of his waist, abs peeking out from the bottom. You swallowed, feeling Yoongi moving behind you, grasping your panties and pulling down.

“You shouldn’t try to fu–”

Your words turned into a gasp as Yoongi’s tongue swiped up your dripping pussy, licking it all up. Your arms trembled, cries dying in your throat as you stared at asleep Jungkook, trying not to make any sound. Yoongi began to noisily eat you out, shoving his tongue inside you and scooping out your juices, his hands spreading your ass. Your shoulders dipped, hands spreading outwards. He slid down a little, finding your sensitive bundle of nerves and licking at it roughly.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you hissed, arching your back. His tongue was too good, so good you almost forgot you were positioned above dozing Jungkook’s dick and abs. Jungkook sighed, turning his head the other way and resuming his snoring. If Yoongi’s tongue wasn’t going to make you pass out, then you were definitely going to get a heart attack if Jungkook woke up in the middle of this.

Yoongi’s mouth latched around your clit and he sucked, hard. Your shaking hips rolled into his face, raspy breaths rattling your chest as you struggled to stay silent, feeling your pussy leaking onto his cheeks, so wet you could hear it behind you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” you hissed, sliding down, nipples brushing against Jungkook’s clothed thighs. “Fuck, Yoongi, I’m so fucking close…”

If Jungkook woke up now, you wouldn’t have noticed because pleasure raced up your nerves, intoxicating you, Yoongi’s expert tongue licking and sucking on your clit, so wet and wonderful and tight it was taking over you. Your hand lost balance and your righted yourself, planting it onto Jungkook’s abs. The contours of his muscle molded to your palm as your hand slid up, low moan leaving your lips as you came again, Yoongi opening his mouth and sucking it out of you. Your body shuddered, fucking his face as your rode out your orgasm, nails curling onto Jungkook’s chest.

Jungkook moaned in his sleep, breathy and deep.

The sound brought you back to reality and you jerked your hand away, startled at you were touching him. Yoongi lapped at your pussy leisurely before straightening. You turned your head to see his very self-satisfied expression.

“Looks like dream Jungkook liked that,” Yoongi smirked.

You shook your fist at him. “I touched him!” you whispered angrily.

Yoongi looked unbothered. “A tragedy.”

You pushed yourself off the bed and stepped towards him, legs tangled in your panties. You irritably kicked them off before poking Yoongi in the chest. Now you were only in your red skirt.

“What was that for, huh?” you whispered heatedly.

Yoongi grinned. “Fun.”

He took you by the waist and pulled you to him, kissing you deeply. Now you could taste yourself and the whiskey, sweet and bitter, mixed with Yoongi’s lust as he led you with him. He pushed you back onto the bed, kissing you eagerly, smiling, making you smile too because Yoongi was so much fun, so naughty, and you would never know it from his usual bored expression when he was out in public.

Yoongi undid his jeans as you reached into his back pocket for his wallet, squeezing his ass as you did so. You took the condom out, still kissing him, still licking his lips, unwrapping it. He pushed his clothes down, freeing his cock and you rolled the condom down, moaning as your felt his hard length in your hands.

“Right here?” you murmured against his lips.

“Fuck yes,” Yoongi drawled. “Right next to your favorite drunkard, Jeon Jungkook.”

You laughed. “Alright, he’s annoying, but he’s not a drunkard.”

Yoongi thrust into you and you whined in pleasure, raising your hips to meet him. A playful smirk danced on his lips as he began to roll his hips into you.

“He’s not, but he is today and so I’m going to take advantage of it,” he panted, fucking you nice and slow and perfect, making sure to stretch you out, filling every part of you with his cock.

“Ah, Yoongi, you’re so good,” you gasped, tightening around him, heightening the pleasure. “Such a nice dick.”

He grinned wickedly. “Excuse me, I think you mean the best dick you’ve ever had.”

You smiled back, meeting his hips, slapping them together and making a deliciously sloppy wet smack. “You’re right, the best dick I’ve ever had.”

Jungkook rolled over a bit, exhaling serenely.

Yoongi dipped his head against your ear, moaning softly as he increased the pace, fucking you hard into Jungkook’s bed. “Think he can hear us?”

You chuckled. “You want him to hear us.”

“No,” Yoongi replied, far too mischievously to mean it. “But maybe he should, because your pussy sounds sexy as fuck.”

You sucked in a breath as Yoongi pounded you, falling back a little so your tits bounced. Yoongi’s dark eyes flickered down to you, sparkling with appreciation as you bit your lip, flicking and pulling on your nipples lightly, heightening the pleasure.

“I’m close,” he groaned. “Squeeze me harder.”

You did, tightening your core and he threw his head back, moaning silently as his hips slammed into yours, once, twice, and he came, loud smack of your hips meeting and his cock throbbing into your walls, spurting his cum into the condom and making it swell inside you. You exhaled hotly upwards, tipping your head back, Yoongi’s name drifting out of your lips in bliss.

He just felt so good.

It might not have a name, but it didn’t need one, because Yoongi’s eyes found yours and there was only ecstasy, perfect, lovely, wicked ecstasy of the mighty who had already fallen.

-

Jungkook woke up immensely groggily, head pounding, his sense of space and time completely and utterly fucked.

But he wasn’t dead, so… yay?

He frowned and rolled over. He was in a soft place. A bed. He breathed in deep. His bed. Nice. But he smelled something else. Jungkook squinted. He could see someone. He touched his chest, finding his shirt still on, barely. He still had his pants on. Oh, good. He didn’t accidentally lose his virginity in a drunken stupor.

He recognized that large pale hand. Jungkook frowned again, squinting harder. Yoongi-hyung? But the hand was over a pair of soft breasts, squeezing them together.

“N-noona?” Jungkook croaked.

You reached over and placed a hand over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Go back to sleep, Jungkook. You need to sleep.”

That’s true. Jungkook did need to sleep. This was probably just a dream anyway. No way Yoongi-hyung and noona were naked in his bed, tangled in his blankets. That would be nuts. Totally crazy. Jungkook drifted back into slumber, softly snoozing away.

-

second act. dreaming in reality a–dick–ted au

--

masterpost

extended playlist where did the party go by fall out boy the mighty fall by fall out boy

[goji-pilled]

What a nice thought, that Viscep would be continuing this onto maybe part 12, part 13, so on so forth. It's been a wonderful ride and this will be *painfully* long, so do sit with me while i load the gun i've been so graciously handed. Sit with me while i give you part 12 of "The Time Tamura Made Friends With Walpurgisnacht."

-----------

The sun warmed her hands on the cold bars of the bridge. She'd been staring at where Aingel had ran off for a while, even after dawn broke. Something inside her wanted to go after her but she knew better not to. the Anomaly knew something she didn't and in due time it'd probably backfire on her if she went after it. It's better just to keep her distance. Everythings been so different, she worries about what'd replace walpurgisnacht. .. If it replaced Walpurgisnacht. Maybe she'll have a lucky chance! And it wo-! The ground rumbled around her. "An earthquake!?" She spoke without thought. Earthquakes weren't uncommon but in her decades of replaying the same month over and over, there'd never been a earthquake. Not even in the weirdest of timelines! She grabbed onto the bridges railing for dear life as the ground around her began tearing itself apart almost. Fear had come to take hold of her again, it almost felt like the first time she faced off Oktavia. She looked to the sky, almost desperately looking for signs of something familiar. But instead she saw something worse. A black silhouette, originally reaching towards the sky with a wail that sounded like a thousand chimes at once. A distant figure, Hair and ribbons showing. A distant figure who landed eyes on her, and its hands reaching towards her. A Black silhouette that called to her. Madoka Kaname. ........ No. No that wasn't Madoka Kaname anymore. In front of her was the Witch of Salvation. Kriemhild Gretchen has come to bring the Holy Serenade Night upon this land. ---

The world rumbled as she and her family sat in the evac center. She'd been brought there so suddenly her mind hadn't caught up with her being at home and then suddenly there. Tat-kun sat in her arms, her quietly hushing him to keep him calm through the trembles. This wasn't a normal earthquake she knew it. The a singular glance outside solidified that thought. This was a witch. A powerful one. It.. Almost seemed so powerful that it didn't need a labyrinth. Theres no way thats possible, right?.. .. Right? She shook her head, hearing Tat-kun cry again as she rocked him gently. "Tat-kun, it'll be okay.. trust me." Her words weren't just for him. The image of Homura-chan staying behind on the bridge haunted her. Theres no way she got away from it in time, if its that powerful. She looked outside, every part of her wished to go there. To be with her- No. They.. Stopped being friends when Homura-chan told her the truth. That she took over her precious one's role. That she didn't exist. .. Shouldn't exist. She sucked in a breath and gave Tat-kun a shaky smile. She was just fooling herself. an internal argument where the idiotic side began winning. That she should go out there. And save homura. But how? She's.. useless. she looked for an answer. She found her answer sitting just beyond the window. A white and red alien cat. Every part of her screamed no. "Hey.. Hey dad?" She finally said, forcing her smiling self back to the surface. "Whats up?" Tomohisa answered quick, already knowing her anxieties. He always did. "I need the bathroom real quick. Could you take Tat-kun for me?" "Of course!" She felt guilty, lying to the man who she considered a father. She passed the child to him, standing up when she knew he was securely in Tomohisa's grasp. She hesitated. "Hey.. Hey dad?" She asked. "Yes, Lili?" "I- You know i love you, to the ends of the earth?" Her question confused him for a moment before his warm smile came back. "of course i do." ".. Thank you. I'll..." She hesitated. ".. Thank you dad." She didn't give a 'i'll be right back'. Because she knew she'd never be coming back. --

Junko Kaname wasn't an idiot. She could read the faces in the room of the evac center well as they waited for this earthquake to pass over. She could see the masked panic on everyones faces. Including her friends. Kazuko Saotome was horrible at hiding her panic, so was Miki Kotone. She could see it a mile away and had left Lili and her husband to try and calm the two women down. it'd work for a moment until she heard Kotone mention Sayaka. it was like she was fighting for restraint. To tell this mother what actually happened to her daughter. Thinking she was kidnapped and murdered. Without a corpse to find thats all she'd think happened. .. They got rid of Sayaka's corpse a long, long time ago. But the restraint had come to an end that day. Watching Lili come home a mess had messed up Junko that day. The earthquake made it worse. "Kotone." She finally said, ending the womans meaningless sobs. "I have something to tell you about Sayaka." her tone came out harsher than it was meant, even then Junko was too tired to console. She already had a sneaking suspicions about what Lili was going to do soon. And she needed to tell the girl fast to not be an idiot. So she spilled. Everything. Magical girls, witches. All of the endless loop of insanity and despair. Kotone didn't believe her at first. Then Saotome piped in. "is.. Is that whats happened?" Her voice was full of regret as a hand raised to her face. Shock and horror etched onto it. "I- That.. That explains the mood shifts." Saotome continued. "And that ring that appeared out of the blue, that she seemed to keep so close to her." Junko felt bad in hindsight. She could've picked a better time to drop this on Kotone. "I'm sorry but it is." Junko lashed out only in tone, already fed up. Already pressed on time. "Sayaka died in that system and-" "Junko, isn't that your girl leaving there?" Kotone had cut Junko off between the crying and sniffles. Junko whipped around towards the exit faster than she thought she could. And to no shock, there was Lili. Leaving. Her hands shook in barely contained fury. "I'll be right back." Junko Kaname had a mission as she walked towards the girl walking down the stairs to her doom. She ran a bit to catch up to her as well. And reached out towards the girl, snatching her arm in her hand. ----

Lili thought she was smart. her mom was distracted and there was no way she'd seen her! Although that thought process was cut short when her arm was pulled back, forcing her to stop on the stairs. She turned to face the angry face of a Junko Kaname. "What do you think your doing!?" She whisper-yelled. "I- I just needed the-" "Don't give me that excuse!" She hissed. "The bathroom is the other way! You were planning on going out there and risking your life for someone who hurt you! Again! And you were going to throw your life away by making a-!" "Mom. Please." She cut in, turning to face the older woman completely. A sad smile decorated her face. "I know. After all this time of avoiding it, just on the cusp of my 15th i decided to sell my soul." Lili laughed. a sad laugh. "Then why are you doing it!?" Junko pleaded. She knew the underlining sentence. 'Don't do it!' "Because. it's either we all die or i go out there and help. Even if it means i sell my soul and do the one thing i swore i wouldn't." She gently pulled her arm out of the older womans grasp. ".. I can't promise i'll be back." The two stood in silence. Both pleading to the other. Junko relented, stepping back. ".. Fine." her voice cracked. "at least give me one last hug." She complied. walking up to her Mom and hugging her tight. They stood there for a little, holding eachother. Before she pulled away. She had a duty to uphold. She turned and began walking down the steps. Junko stood at the top, watching her leave. She stopped at the bottom. And turned back to her mom. "Mom. Don't tell Tat-kun of my sacrifice." Junko made a noise of disagreement before she shook her head. "I don't want him to know of his sister who risked her life at such a young age where he can't understand it." "when he's old enough to understand, tell him of his big sis. Tell him of the system and the sacrifice his big sis made to save everyone." Junko opened her mouth to argue, to say something but.. ".. Okay." She sighed. "But i'll tell him the happy stories." "Thank you." She turned away from Junko one last time. ".. Mama. I love you." She took a step forward, slowly. "Gilena." She stopped. "I love you too. More than you could ever imagine. Now go kick their ass." Gilena Dietch Kaname laughed. "Okay Mama. I'll go beat them and make your world better, safer." Gilena gave her mother her final smile, before running into the unknown. "kick their ass, Gilena." Junko whispered before walking back inside to her husband and child. .. to cry with her husband and child. ------

This is a shocker, No name. "Is it really? or did you expect this the moment the witch came out?" Perceptive as ever. But my confusion comes from your sudden change of heart. You come to me, after all this time running. ".. I knew what i had to do." I see. Then, Answer me. No Name. What is your wish? "To see the truth." A ball of light emerged from her chest, showing her the unseen truths. The truths of her memories. of herself. of her name. -----------

This couldn't be Gretchen. Homura kept lying to herself as she fired on the witch, who'd taken several lives already and kept coming after her. The world around them was disoriented, upside down or right side up. Her time magic was barely effective and she couldn't bring herself to land a blow on Gretchen. it couldn't be true. it.. It couldn't be. A smack from the giants black hand sent her flying, crushing her into a building. Her eyesight was fuzzy for a moment. But she saw a hand in front of her, offering for her to take it. She did, without a second thought. She was pulled up by none other than Aingel, the Anomaly. She looked different somehow. Physically she was the same but her eyes. Her smile. They were.. off. Sad, maybe? Couldn't place it. "Homura-chan." she spoke. Her voice seemed off too. it was still happy, but that low feeling of acceptance followed it. "There you are, i'm glad your okay." Aingel gently patted the girl down, even with the rapid healing it stung a little. "What are you doing here?!" her voice came out harsh. She was a civilian she shouldn't be here! She held Homura's hand tightly, looking down for a moments glance at her soul gem before looking back up at the ravenette girl. ".. I wanted to help." "how!?" She hissed. "Your not-" "A magical girl. I know." Aingel laughed. "its funny, you know. I had all of these discordant memories that rose up when you arrived Homura-chan." Aingel let go of her hand, a part of her wished she hadn't. Aingel turned to Gretchen who had diverted their attention away. "I was scared when they flowed in, showing me a recording of worlds i didn't understand." Homura didn't like where this was going. This felt eerily similar to a speech Madoka gave her one time. "I do now." "and i can hear her crying, you know?" Homura sucked in a breath. "She's screaming. angry. upset. Why her? Why is it her alone? Why do they hate her? She's just trying to help." Aingel raised a hand that was out of view of Homura. "i know how she feels." Something began to connect in her mind. But that was impossible. "the girl i replaced." Aingel closed her hand and turned to Homura. "Her name was Madoka Kaname. She's the witch behind us right now isn't she?" Homura was at a loss for words. According to her knowledge Madoka shouldn't exist here. The only way Aingel would know is- "You don't have to make assumptions. You already know the answer." Aingel turned backto Gretchen. ".. I found a way to be useful to you, Homura." "Maybe i can see Mami-san and Kyoko. Maybe i could tell them how much im sorry and that i wished i could hold them one last time before telling them i was their worst enemy all along." Her heart rate increased staring at the girl giving a speech in front of her. "I wish i could've told Sayaka-chan my name, my true name. before she turned into Oktavia-chan. I wish i could've told her my love for her, and how much she mattered to me even if Kyosuke didn't see it." Aingel took a deep breath as she glanced at Homura. "I see you've figured it out, judging by your steeled expression, Homura-chan." She didn't need to say it twice, it took all her will power not to shoot her in the head point blank. She looked away, sadness in her eyes. ".. it's okay." "Even if you hate me, i want you to have one last thing." she turned to Homura, pulling the blue ribbon out of her hair and letting the length of it flow in the wind. She grabbed Homura's hand, and gently tied it around her wrist. "There. to remember me by." A flash of light engulfed the girl in front of her. A part of Homura cried. watching the girl in magical girl uniform in front of her. Colors of Walpurgisnacht. "This'll be the end of the Holy Night Serenade. Walpurgisnacht night wont exist either." The clocks on the girl moved slowly, but made no noise. The blue and purple over cloak fluttered in the raging wind while the grey dress beneath was gently concealed. Her dark blue star soul gem rested on her shoulder. Gold with red gems adorned her body.

her smile betrayed her intentions. "if i don't finish her, please. Do it." Walpurgisnacht turned away from Homura, facing her enemy. She took a deep breath, launching herself towards gretchen. Homura reached out towards the girl. She threw her soul gem out in a kamikaze attack. A blinding white light engulfed her and the giant witch. She covered her eyes. it felt like hours but in mere seconds the light vanished. .. Walpurgisnacht was no where in sight. The witch however laid on the ground. .. She hadn't killed it. A part of her thought it was stupid how Walpurgisnacht thought she could tear down someone favored by destiny. But then words rang out in her mind. "Kill her for me if i can't do it myself." ... Homura went down to the head of the big witch that rested in the water of the destroyed earth. She pulled out her finest grenade. She hesitated for a moment. And the witch.. Spoke. A familiar voice came from it that made her stop. "Homura..chan.." it spoke. Using Aingel's voice. Using Madoka's too. "Don't hurt me.." it pleaded. Homura stood frozen as Madoka and Aingel spoke to her. "don't.. you.. love me?" it said. And Homura didn't move. The witch attacked. Homura froze time just as the two giant black hands nearly engulfed her. ... This wasn't Madoka Kaname. Or Aingel Kaname. .. or.. Whatever her real name was. i wish i knew what it was. I wish i asked before she died in front of me. She pushed that thought away. She placed the grenade next to the witches still resting head. And pushed the activate button. "Goodbye. Gretchen." she got out of blast radius before releasing time. the blast noise filled her ears, alongside the twin screams of two girls she knew. .. she needs to- Her shield activated before Homura willed it to. it shocked her as she watched the world around her disappear. "But i don't want to-!" something deep down screamed "DON'T LET ME LEAVE!" But she blinked a few times. The world around her was warped in colors, a familiar sight. She was able to hold it for a few seconds before collapsing to her knees. She was back. She want's to go back there. She shouldn't be here! She has to be there! She was stolen away! Aingel still needs her.. Aingel isn't coming back. She began to laugh. it was a sad laugh. But then it grew maniac. it felt like the world was collapsing and squeezing her alive. The warping colors around her felt like it was trying to strangle her. Watch the light fade from her eyes. She clawed at her throat, eyes barely able to see the bar in front of her, with the factory just nearby. Tamura Akemi wanted to go back. To see her new friend, Aingel. She didn't want to name it "The Time she Was Friends with Walpurgisnacht." She wanted to see her again. Her smiling face seemed to show up. Her hand reaching out to her while she was down. She- She must be imagining it. They're both alive. Gretchen is dead! Right? But when she reached for Aingel's hand, she vanished. Instead there was a concerned Bar Keep in her place. her voice was faint. "Tamura? Tamura are you okay!?" Tamura began laughing again. She took in a deep breath and SCREAMED. Every emotion she felt, she screamed. All of the anger, the desperate want to go back, came out in her voice. She screamed until her voice went hoarse. She screamed until she heard the void around her echo it back to her. She screamed until every single Homura in the World between Time came out and saw her. She screamed until she couldn't see Aingel anymore. She screamed until her world collapsed in on itself, and left her unconcious on the ground. -- ／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼

WALPY. MADOKA. HOMURA.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

[avocado-frog]

Forget-me-not. 14 (isaac finally updates huzzah)

Rating: T Warnings: mentions of gun violence, child death, and murder Word count: 2,000 (BARELY it's 1,923 I've been rounding up) Title: 12/16/2018 Summary: Ice skate time

Leo clung to the railing, hunched over, desperately trying to regain balance, and quite honestly, looking like a wet cat trying to get out of a bathtub.

"Don't laugh at me," Leo's voice darkened. She glared at Lily, covering her mouth with her gloved hands. Lily skated over to where Leo was struggling.

"I'm not, Leo. I never laugh at you." Lily held out a hand to help her up. Leo, looking reluctant, took it. Lily kept holding her hand. "Just hang onto the rail. You'll be fine."

"Was this the plan?" Leo asked to the air. "To kill me?"

"Yes, Leo. Death by ice skating." Lily rolled her eyes, smiling a little. "I'm starting to think that Jaxon was right. Maybe all you did was get banned from public places and be evil. You've really never gone ice skating?"

"Obviously not." Leo made some sort of face like it was her first time not being good at something. "Ask my sister. When the winter comes, I hibernate like a bear."

Lily laughed, and Leo grinned. "Seriously! I buy all my food and shit in the fall, and stay home during winter. I don't go to school most of the year."

"Logan's going to have a fit when he hears that, you know." Lily began to skate faster when Leo could manage to not fall for over ten seconds. "You're this close to giving him gray hairs whenever you talk about... yourself, for lack of better word."

"Thanks, Lily," Leo deadpanned. "How encouraging."

"We should go find Elliot." A surge of worry suddenly filled her, at the mental image of Elliot laying face-down in the ice like he tended to do when he got hurt. Lily once watched the kid stub his toe and fully face-plant onto the floor without hesitation. She worried about him, most of the time.

On cue, the youngest of the group zoomed past them, screaming a long string of profanities in a blur of purple.

"What did you teach that kid, holy shit." Lily snickered at the sight of Elliot chasing down his brother. People gave him odd looks, whispering something about how he shouldn't know those sorts of words at his age. Lily was... inclined to agree. She thought it was hilarious when Dylan or the triplets (read: Dylan and Elliot. Ryan and Sam would never) swore. Logan and Cass thought it was one of the worst crimes imaginable.

"I didn't teach him that!" Leo defended, and Lily did not believe her. "Okay, I taught him some of the kinder swears, the rest was all Jaxon. And maybe you."

Elliot went past them again, and Lily frowned, realizing they had barely moved a foot. She was being beaten by a ten-year-old.

They watched with wide eyes as Elliot leaped and landed perfectly, still chasing presumably Sam.

"Bullshit!" Lily yelled after her friend. Leo booed him loudly. Elliot skidded to a stop, and turned around, skating towards them.

That kid knocked over his cereal and spilled it all over the place trying to get the spoon in that morning. He ran into the front door on his way outside that day. Multiple times. He hit his head on the car door on their way here. And here he was, skating perfectly, jumping into the air, on his first try.

Leo told him as such, and he shrugged. "Maybe you guys are just too old. Your bones are breaking."

"Your bones are gonna break in a minute," Leo said dryly. "Seriously though, there is no way you're that good at this."

"I'm naturally gifted." Elliot flipped his hair back, and that was definitely a phrase he got from Lily.

"I ran into Jaxon on my last loop," Elliot mentioned, a small smile on his face, a shit-eating grin, if you will. "He says to tell you that you shouldn't hold hands before marriage."

"Do me a favor, E. Go around, and say fuck you to Jaxon. I give you full permission."

Elliot's eye lit up, and he nodded, skating away. Lily slowly turned to look at Leo.

"Didn't teach him to swear my ass." Lily swatted the back of Leo's head, and Leo snickered.

"I said mostly." Leo's grin fell, to a determined look. "Teach me how to do this properly."

"Seriously?"

"I'm not being beaten by a fifth-grader who fell asleep in the dryer last week."

Lily snickered. "Fair. Okay. Let go of the rail."

"You want me to die." Leo reluctantly let go, slipped, and grabbed onto Lily's arm.

"Stand up," Lily instructed, earning a glare. "Don't lean back. Lean forward. You aren't walking, you're kicking the ice, got it?"

"No," Leo said honestly. She gave a fast kick to the ground, the ridges of the skate dug into the ice, and catapulted her forward. Lily moved to stand in front of her, catching her as she fell.

Their faces were close, Leo's eyes were illuminated by the colored fairy lights hanging on the street lamps, sparkling. Lily coughed into her hand, and turned back to where she had been before.

"You're doing horribly," Lily decided. "Just hold on, you'll be fine."

Jaxon nearly knocked Leo over in a hug around the neck. "Your favorite boy ever has arrived! How goes it, friends?"

"Terrible," Leo mumbled, and Lily nodded in agreement. "Did you see Elliot?"

"Yes!" Jaxon looked visibly stressed. "I fell over, and he looked me dead in the fucking eye and did a twirl. Are we sure he spent five years in that room and not on an ice rink?"

"At this point..." Leo trailed off, rolling her eyes.

"Local Leo isn't immediately good at something, commits a war crime," Lily spoke in a fake announcer voice, to Jaxon's amusement.

"More at six," Jaxon finished in that same voice. "Coming up next, Jaxon steals Lily's hat."

Lily didn't have time to process what he said before her hat was yanked off her head, and her brother sped away. Lily glowered.

"Go after him." Leo gave a thumbs up. "I'll be fine."

"Okay." Lily gave one final glance at her. "Find Logan, he can show you what to do. You know, if you're able to move from that spot."

"Shut the fuck up."

Lily smiled, and turned, speeding off towards her brother. A blur of colored lights, holiday music, and a large crowd of people, she was dizzy among it. Little bits of ice flew off from the skates, melting on impact as they hit her ankles.

Lily slowed, and found Jaxon playing a game with Dylan, tossing the hat back and forth. Jaxon threw it to Dylan.

"Dylan, go!"

Dylan took the hat and went off. Lily followed them, and from there, Dylan threw it to Sam, who caught on quickly, and Lily could feel herself starting to lose control over her own speed. Sam threw it to Ryan, who panicked and gave it to Elliot, and that was the moment Lily knew she was fucked, because Elliot was way faster.

He wasn't even that fast of a runner. He literally was out of breath going to the park across the street. How he wasn't having an asthma attack right now was a mystery.

It went to Logan, who calmly gave it back to Lily.

"Thank you." Lily adjusted her hat back on her head. Logan smiled, and nodded, and Jaxon booed him.

By the time she found Leo again, she was standing up and moving just fine without the rail. Lily beamed.

"Hey! Good job!" Lily skated over, lungs burning, out of breath.

"This is overrated." Leo kept going, and grabbed back onto Lily's hand. "I'll pay for some apple cider?"

"Sure." Lily nodded. They alerted Logan that they were leaving, and took a final loop around the ice, as they weren't allowed to go backwards.

Walking back on regular ground was a hard adjustment, as now they actually did have to walk. It was more of a stomp, really, as they tried to figure out where they left their shoes.

Inside the building where they rented the ice skates, there was an apple cider and hot chocolate stand, like a soda machine for the winter time.

Leo paid for two paper cups, and held it under the cider dispenser. Steaming, orange-ish liquid flowed into the cup. A plastic lid closed over it, cutting off the steam. Two of those small straws followed. Leo leaned against the counter as Lily filled her own cup, opting for the hot chocolate instead. She shoved a handful of marshmallows inside.

They found an empty seat around one of the fireplaces scattered around the area, sitting on the bench together. Lily's head leaned against Leo's shoulder. Leo didn't move.

"This is a lot better," Leo commented, voice uncharacteristically softer. "I'm pretty tired. About to take the world's fattest nap when we get home."

Lily hummed. "Let's steal Logan's car."

Leo huffed a small laugh. "It's just downtown... they can find their way home. It isn't too far, is it?"

"They'll live." Lily yawned. Leo's head rested on top of hers. "They've got phones. They can figure it out."

Leo didn't respond. Lily's eyes widened. "Oh my god, are you actually asleep?"

No response. Lily stifled a laugh, and took her slipping cup from her hands, placing it on the ground.

"...I think I'd rather be here, actually," Lily said to herself. This was followed by an obnoxiously fake snore. "You're fucking with me, aren't you? Asshole."

Leo snickered. Her expression softened, eyes closed. "I'd rather stay here, too."

"Cool."

---

Gliding on the ice was an effortless act, sharp blades scratching the ice below, scraping little shards and sending them flying, the exhilaration that sent clouds into the air with short gasps. Elliot, that same day, had missed the cereal with his spoon, sending milk and Cheerios flying, had ran into the doorway on the way out of the house, and hit his head on the car door both in and out of the vehicle. Yet, here he was, racing down the ice ribbon, without falling over, not even once.

Leo, who he'd been sure was capable of anything, couldn't even stand up without Lily's help. Jaxon made some joke about the two of them getting married, that Elliot went over to repeat to the girls. Cass was much more careful about going too fast, adjacent to Logan, as the two talked about whether the twins had ever done anything like this before.

"I have," was Cass's response. "Leo never did anything with us on the holidays. We always invited her, but-" she gestured over at the struggling Leo. "-obviously, she never came."

He stayed with them for a while, after he caught his breath from having chased Sam around for a few laps, but looking around the ribbon, filled with people, the colored, bright lights strewn in a zig-zag on poles above the ice, soft piano music playing on the speakers, Elliot didn't want to stay there.

Leo and Lily left to get hot chocolate, and so Elliot left Cass and Logan, skating around until they caught sight of Dylan.

Dylan, holding onto the rail with their magenta gloves- Elliot had all but stolen their black ones- their other hand holding onto the braided, green string hanging down their olive-colored hat.

They stared down at the ice, ankles crossed as they moved down the slight hill- it was barely noticeable, just enough to keep them moving- not paying attention to where they were. Elliot skated to stand beside them, waiting a full seven minutes before Dylan even noticed. Elliot snickered as they jumped back, glaring half-heartedly.

Their face was lit up by the colorful lights hanging overhead, eyes shining, hand silently reaching out in the familiar way that made Elliot instinctively reach for their hand.

Large chunks of snow floated in the air, clinging to Dylan's hat, the gloved hands that held onto each other, sticking to his scarf and coat, melting upon impact. Dylan's hand squeezed a little, as Elliot started to shiver.

They skated to the exit, though the feeling of gliding on ice still lingered, making it hard to adjust to regular ground. They turned the skates back in, knowing they'd only be there for a few more minutes, and left to go find Leo and Lily.

They shared a small grin, at seeing the two of them, Lily's hand on top of Leo's, Lily's head on Leo's shoulder, and Leo's head on top of Lily's.

There was a small, hardly noticeable pang in his stomach that made him almost want to cry, still hanging onto Dylan's hand.

[secret-engima]

I got my second covid shot yesterday, and the side effects are happening. Got anything in any of your RWBY AUs that'll makr me feel less Generally Bad?

Awww, sorry the side effects are happening, anon. :( Lemme see what I can find that isn't horribly angsty.

...

Team Gremlin verse:

Hei Xiong —Junior to literally everyone because apparently Mistralen names were too much for Vale tongues to handle— knew his boys weren’t … the brightest or the best. That was fine. His father wouldn’t have given him the brightest and the best even if he hadn’t been the family disappointment. But he had expected his boys to at least know the basic rule of, say, not bringing children into a criminal operation. Semi-criminal. Far less criminal than his father wanted it to be.

It was an abandoned warehouse full of guys with guns. Not a child suitable environment.

“Boys,” he ground out past the budding headache he got just looking at the tiny child sitting politely on a random box —the kid was tiny, how old was he, four?—, “I’m pretty sure I said to ‘go get us some cash’. Not ‘steal a random child’. And if one of you bozos did this thinking about holding a toddler for ransom-.”

“I’m not a toddler!” Piped up the child in the indignant tone of the young.

Junior ignored that outburst for the moment, “Then I’m going to throw all of you in the river. I told you, we’re not resorting to kidnapping to get the funds for this! If I wanted to do that I’d just go back to the old man and lick his boots for more money.”

His men cringed, and the biggest of them —Tiny, and why his men all gave themselves the stupidest, least relevant nicknames was still a mystery to him— held up his hands defensively, “We didn’t kidnap him! … Not … intentionally?”

Junior pinched the bridge of his nose, “Did he wander inside on his own?”

“Well, no-.”

“Are any of you related to him?”

“Well, no, but-.”

“Do his parents or guardians know where he is right this second?”

“Uh- I don’t think so-.”

“Then it’s kidnapping, you idiots! I oughta-!”

A light but firm whap to his knee cut Junior off and he stared at the toddler in shock, because since when did toddlers have canes to whack people with? “Excuse me,” said the boy in a tone that was far too prim for this part of town, “Please stop yelling at your men.” The boy ducked his head a little, looking almost embarrassed, “They were just trying to help me. I got separated from my friends and I don’t … my leg isn’t very good. They let me come inside to catch my breath.”

…This kid was very articulate for a four year old, maybe he really was a bit older than he looked. Still, Junior felt another sigh building in his chest that he squashed down with effort —he was twenty two years old and sometimes he already felt like he was his old man’s age—, “What are you doing out here, kid? The docks is no place for a kid, especially one who needs a cane.”

The boy scowled at him, cheeks puffing and oh no, he was adorable, “I can handle myself! Besides, one of my friends works here. I was with her before I got. Um.” The boy blushed and looked down at the ground, “A little turned around.”

Hummer, the quietest and arguably most observant of his boys, leaned over to whisper in his ear, “He was having a panic attack on the sidewalk about a block from here. We think he lost track of his caretaker at one of the intersections. He’s definitely from out of the kingdoms, he was terrified of the cars. He probably panicked at the sight of so many of them and bolt- ow.”

The boy pointed his cane warningly at Hum as the man held his knee in pain, “I can hear you. I wasn’t scared of cars, I just- got startled. That’s all.”

“Sure kid,” muttered one of Junior’s boys and Junior grunted loudly, because they were getting off topic.

...

One in a Hundred verse

The familiar jolt of rising, of sliding into place, and the body snapped awake with a startled gasp. Ozpin flailed, accidentally rolling right out of bed and landing on the floor in a tangled, confused lump of limbs and blankets. His head ached with the remnants of tears and when he waggled his fingers, they were gloved. He was … in control? No. No-no-no-no that wasn’t right, he only took control when it was necessary. “Oscar,” he rasped hoarsely in a voice that wasn’t his —was far too young and soft to be his—, “Oscar, where are you?” He sat up, groping frantically for the sense of Oscar under the dangerous thrum of Old Kings. He finally found a sense of him, a glimmer of Oscar under the flow, but when he reached to pull it out, the boy just batted his mental hand away like a tired, cranky cat, sliding deeper under the flow instead. Ozpin tried four more times before a spiking headache and repeated flairs of exhausted-agitated magic made him stop for fear of injuring either himself or the boy.

It would seem that … whatever had happened, Ozpin was temporarily in control.

…He hoped it was temporary.

Well. Lying in this position wasn’t good for either of them, so Ozpin careful set about untangling the body and … taking care of things he supposed. He debated the merits of a shower, and normally wouldn’t have dared, but Oscar’s frame was shivering slightly and felt clammy from sweat —from the nightmares of reliving a past life as Ozpin walked through it, just as he had relived his past when Oscar walked through his—. He grimaced, but so long as he was in control he had to take responsibility and care, so he hastily stripped down and hurried his way through a cold shower.

He froze up briefly in front of the mirror, because Oscar —by habit it seemed— rarely looked in a mirror or down at his hands, and never without his gloves and bandages on. Ozpin swallowed hard and saw the thick, ugly scarring on a too-young neck ripple with the motion and felt queasy. Grimm attack. He knew the signs. He just- hadn’t expected to —had hoped never to— see them on a boy this young. Then he shook it off and rummaged around for clean bandages and gloves and clothes. Finding a proper brush was a little trickier, because just a hair brush wouldn’t suffice, at least if his foggy memories of past lives were to be believed.

He took his time getting himself sorted, meticulously brushing out all the kinks and trying not to twinge anything sensitive —he was out of practice with that—, before putting on clothes. A few failed tries at tucking everything away without pinching and he gave up —he was very out of practice, not that it could be helped—. If Oscar’s aunt was accepting of multiple personalities and body-hopping cursed wizards, she would no doubt have long ago accepted this part of Oscar’s own body.

Ozpin made his way downstairs carefully, grimacing past the phantom ache in a leg he knew was just fine but would never feel fine to him, hanging onto the stair railing and repeatedly reaching out to Oscar in the hopes the boy would wake up from whatever strange trance he seemed to be in and take back his rightful control.

Miss Pine looked up in open surprise when he skirted carefully into the kitchen, “Oscar? I thought you said you were going to have a Quiet Day. I was just about to come check on you.”

Ah. This was likely going to go poorly, “My apologies, Miss Pine,” Ozpin murmured and refused to flinch when she stiffened in realization, “I … I do not know what is going on. I woke up in control through no action or intent of my own. I have tried waking up Oscar multiple times but he- he doesn’t respond.”

For a moment, he thought she would accuse him of lying, of stealing control. She would hardly be the first. But after a moment of hard staring, the fight left her shoulders and she sighed heavily, “No, I don’t suppose he would. I should have realized a Quiet Day with … another person … in his head would lead to something like this. Sit down, you might as well eat. Oscar won’t otherwise.”

Ozpin tentatively sat down, careful of how he moved so nothing pinched or was pinned, “You and Oscar mentioned those before. Quiet … days?”

“That’s what we call it when Oscar loses control of the voices. He usually spends the day sleeping or drifting around the house in a daze, unresponsive, barely eating.” She looked pained, worried for a moment, then shook her head, “At least they don’t make him sick and feverish anymore.”

[heejinnien]

bts | roses chapter three

word count: 3.0k words

pairing: bts x reader

synopsis: y/n is a member of the seoul behavioral analysis unit. usually, she’s the cat in the typical game of cat and mouse played with the criminals they catch, but when a mysterious string of murders has her on edge, she discovers she’s caught the attention of one of a dangerous criminal — and he’s determined to make her pay for it.

or, not all attention is the good kind.

genre: horror, angst

warnings: yandere themes, descriptions of gore, descriptions of violence, murder, the reader carries a gun because they need to defend themself against bad guys, guns, manipulation, victim blaming, this is overall just a very dark fic

author’s note: originally, i was going to end this series at this chapter; however, i think it makes the most sense to end this chapter where i did. note that i updated the rosses masterlist according to my new plans for roses. as always, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask or dm, or just let me know your thoughts! i would be happy to explain things to you, and i would also love to hear your feedback or who you think is suspicious. as always, adhere to the warnings and do not read if any of those things trigger you.

roses masterlist

You pace the length of the ER’s waiting room, chewing your bottom lip nervously.

The rest of your team is assembled around you in various states of being, the same gnawing worry that you feel reflected on their features. Jungkook sprawls listlessly on an overstuffed armchair, Jimin stares stoically at nothing, Hoseok holds an angry staring contest with a potted poinsettia, Namjoon speaks furiously into his phone, and Jin buries his face in his hands, fingers tugging at the locks of his hair. You have never seen your team look so despondent, so heartbroken before, and the sight makes your heart wrench.

The sound of footsteps cause your head to snap up.

“Agents.” A kindly looking woman gives you a sympathetic smile, eyes raking in the various states of your team. Her white lab coat signifies her status, and your heart jumps at the sight.

“How is he, Dr. Chou?” You ask, reading the ID card pinned on the doctor’s coat.

“Please, call me Tzuyu.” She clears her throat, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. “Dr.  Taehyung had a lot of bleeding, both internally and externally, and, quite frankly, it’s a miracle he didn’t bleed out on the way here.”

“Was all of the bleeding from the stab wounds?” Namjoon asks, managing to retain his professionalism and composure despite the fact that it’s Taehyung that you’re talking about.

“The external bleeding was,” Tzuyu confirms. “The internal bleeding was due to damage to some of Dr. Taehyung’s organs. It appears that whoever attacked this young agent also beat him, causing this damage.”

The thought of Taehyung — sweet, loveable Taehyung — being beaten and stabbed by the unsub your team has been trying to catch makes your head swim. Your hand shoots out, using the wall to hold yourself up, to hold yourself together. You feel Jungkook stand, resting a hand on your arm and murmuring something consolatory, but it feels as though nothing can take away the deep ache that has formed inside of you.

Tzuyu continues talking, but you can’t bring yourself to care. After all, who gave you the right to be here, alive and well, when Taehyung lies on his possible death bed?

“All I can say is, it’s lucky you found him when you did, Agent Y/N.” Your name from the doctor causes your attention to return to the current conversation, the crashing guilt pushed aside for a moment. “Much longer and Dr. Taehyung may have bled out.”

Tzuyu gives you another sympathetic smile, before gesturing behind her. “I have to return to work, but you’re welcome to visit your teammate. Unfortunately, there’s no way to tell when he’ll wake up, but we’re hoping for the best.”

Namjoon gives Tzuyu his thanks as you attempt to process the doctor’s words. Jungkook’s hand is warm against your skin, and you’re sure if it wasn’t there you would be lost, ungrounded from the world.

You’re a federal agent, for God’s sake, so why can’t you pull yourself together?

“Y/N.”

Your head snaps up as Namjoon calls your name, eyes coldly appraising you. His face is expressionless, but Namjoon subtly threatening to remove you from the case rings in your head. You notice that sometime while you were lost, drowning in your uncertainties the rest of the team stood from their various positions around the waiting room, faces grim. They gather around you and Namjoon, waiting to hear your leader’s next move. Now that your attention is focused on him, Namjoon clears his throat, no trace of any emotions except professionalism apparent from him.

“Y/N, Jimin, and Hoseok, I would like you to remain here. Jimin and Hoseok, run through a cognitive interview with Y/N and see we can determine anything that might indicate as to why the unsub attacked Taehyung. The rest of you will come with me back to the station. We’re going to be working similarly on the unsub’s motives, but we’ll be using the evidence we’ve gathered so far to see if we can link it to Taehyung.”

Your teammates nod, the team’s usually determined energy following the command of orders now subdued. Jungkook squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before following Namjoon out of the waiting room, Jin giving you a small smile and following suit. You stand after they’ve gone, shifting awkwardly. You’re too embarrassed by your unprofessionalism, by the way that this case has affected you when the rest of your team seems to be keeping themselves level.

“I know after everything doing a cognitive isn’t exactly what you want to do right now, but…” Hoseok’s voice trails off as he and Jimin stand beside you, uncertain.

“I get it,” you say, giving Hoseok a tight smile. “It’s all part of the job.”

Jimin motions for you to take a seat on the overstuffed armchair Jungkook had vacated earlier and you do. Tension seeps through each of your limbs, and Jimin notices, grabbing one of your hands and sitting across from you.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. We’re right here with you,” Jimin says reassuringly.

You swallow dryly, nodding. Your free hand taps against your leg, and your back is stiff as you sit as straight as a rod. You close your eyes, exhaling, and force yourself to return to when you found Taehyung.

“Walk us through how you stumbled across Taehyung’s body,” Hoseok says, voice sounding from your right. You nod, swallowing quickly.

“I stayed late to review the case files. It was getting late, and I knew that the team had taken the rest of the unit’s vehicles so I was looking on my phone for a rideshare service app.” You pause, taking a shaky breath. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. I remember pushing open the doors to the station, and I had only made it a few feet when I tripped. I remember falling forward, and when I regained my bearings I noticed that my hands were coated with blood.”

You swallow harshly, free hand clenching into a fist. “You’re doing great, Y/N,” Jimin coos, rubbing his thumb idly against the back of your hand. You force yourself to count to ten before continuing.

“The first thing I noticed was a foot, and that the foot was attached to a leg, and I followed it upwards until I saw… Taehyung. He was unconscious, and there was so much blood everywhere.”

“Can you remember anything specifically about the scene?” Hoseok asks gently.

“I just remember the smell of all that blood.” You choke out. “I think it was still seeping out when I found him.”

“So he must have been attacked not too long before you found him, then,” Jimin assumes.

“What was Taehyung doing at the police station?” Hoseok presses. “Did you hear anything from him?”

“No, I thought he left with you guys,” you say, frowning.

“He did, but when we heard that Taehyung had been attacked and we went to drive here, one of the vehicles had been taken,” Jimin supplies. “He must have taken it to get back to the station, I’ll call Namjoon and see if the vehicle’s there.”

You furrow your brow in confusion. What was Taehyung doing at the station that late at night? 

“Surely you know something.” Hoseok says, voice infused with a cold undertone that you can’t detect. Your eyes snap open in disbelief at his statement, and Hoseok coldly appraises you, as if you’re lying.

“I’ve told you everything I remember,” you say defensively.

Despite your refusal, Hoseok continues, coiled like a snake about to pounce on its victim. “Maybe you called Taehyung back to the station so you could attack him because he knew something you didn’t want us to find out. The unsub has taken an uncanny interest in you Y/N, why is that?”

“Hoseok, enough,” Jimin stands, his chair rubbing against the hospital’s floor loudly. The sound makes you wince, and Hoseok pounces on the sight, striking.

“Everyone thinks you’re this perfect little angel, Y/N, but why don’t you tell us the truth? I bet you enjoyed hurting Taehyung, feeling his bones break as you beat him repeatedly. You try to act innocent, but sweetheart, I can see right through you.”

The gleam in Hoseok’s eye is feral, sadistic. Jimin shoves him backwards angrily, but the action is drowned out as you’re lost in the anger in Hoseok’s eyes.

You feel so small, so powerless, and something inside you snaps.

“Go to hell, Jung Hoseok,” you hiss, shoving past your teammates. You don’t care where you’re going as long as it’s away, and you swipe furiously at the angry tears that have fallen. You ignore Jimin’s cries for you to come back, your feet on autopilot as you shove open doors and storm down unfamiliar hallways. 

Somehow, you find yourself on the hospital rooftop. It’s still dark out, and a soft breeze gently wraps around you, ruffling your hair and slipping under the edges of your clothing. It calms you, and you wander to the rooftop’s edge, leaning against the iron railing wrapping around the rooftop’s length.

Since it’s the crack hours of the morning, the sound of traffic is dimmed. Neon lights and gentle hues paint the city skyline, and it feels peaceful.

You used to be naive until you joined the NIS. You didn’t believe that people were capable of such vile and despicable things, and most of all you hadn’t known the true depths of the evil that reside in the city, in the world, unless you had seen everything that you had. You don’t think you can ever get used to the sadness you feel whenever someone innocent loses their life, the disgust or horror you feel whenever someone commits a heinous crime.

The soft creak of a door being pushed open pierces the night’s tranquility. Quiet footsteps sound behind you until you see a familiar profile from your peripheral lean beside you. You aren’t ready to speak, to face the reality that is outside the peacefulness you’ve constructed for yourself here, and so you are content to remain, unwilling to break the fragile silence.

“It’s beautiful up here,” he says finally, and his voice drags you back to reality, forces you to accept the truths of the world all over again.

“It is,” you say honestly. “It makes you forget the horrors that happen down there on the streets.”

He hums noncommittally, and you wonder what’s going through his mind. Out of all of your teammates, he always seems to be the most collected whenever you hear news that makes you want to vomit, the most unflinching when when trying to reason with the most depraved souls, the most calm when you hear that yet another innocent life has been taken.

“Things won’t always be like this, you know.” He says, pulling you out of your once more spiralling thoughts. “I was like you, at first. There will always be bad guys, but it gets easier.”

You shudder at the thought that one day, the loss of an innocent life may not bother you anymore, may not matter as much as it should.

“I hope not,” you admit, and you know it’s true. You turn, scanning the face of your teammate for any traces that he feels the way you do. Jimin’s face is unreadable as he studies you in return, pain and frustration filling the void between you and melting away to tenderness and care.

“For your sake, I hope not, too.”

“Let’s review our profile.”

Your team gathers around the conference room table, grim expressions adorning their faces. Taehyung’s vegetative state weighs heavily on your minds, and you’re all blatantly exhausted. You feel powerless — usually you’re the cat in a game of cat and mouse with your unsubs, but this time you’re the one being preyed on. Namjoon speaks from the head of the table, pinning crime scene photographs on a bulletin board behind him as he speaks.

“So far we know our unsub is calculated, controlling, and sadistic. They’re most likely a he due to the strength required to subdue the victims, as well as the violent nature of the wounds inflicted upon each of the victims.”

“We also know he loves taunting us, which factors into his control,” Jin adds. “He took a huge risk using lamb’s blood and leaving roses — both of those could have easily been traced back to him.”

“But they weren’t because he’s smart enough not to get caught, which speaks to who he is,” Hoseok chimes in. “Maybe he has some sort of criminal background.”

“He chose high risk victims,” Jungkook says, clearing his throat. “Speaks to his confidence in his abilities.”

“For the first few victims he dyed their hair,” Jimin adds, confirming Jungkook’s statement. “He used excessive overkill when he murdered them, and then dumped their bodies in alleys to be found.”

“The coroner confirmed the victims had been dead for at least twelve hours by the time they were found, but each victim went missing a few days before then.”

“He even sent me notes directly, which means he wants us to feel that he’s in charge.” You stare at the mahogany table as you speak, Hoseok’s gaze burning. You refuse to meet his gaze, instead choosing to flicker your gaze between your other teammates as you speak. Hoseok’s accusation still rings in your head, and you’ve refused to speak to him since then. Your other teammates have noticed the icy distance you’ve kept from Hoseok, but nobody has dared to mention anything. “He’s toying with us, this is all a game to him.”

“Yet he said it was our fault, as if he’s telling us we’re supposed to stop him,” Jungkook says. He nods once in your direction — brief, but you know that it is his way of showing you support. The action causes a warmth to spread through you, as if he has helped you to gain footing in a tumultuous storm.

“As the unsub murdered more victims, he got sloppier. The stab wounds were less deep, which is probably due to the decreased amount of time the unsub kept the victims for.”

The sound of a phone ringing cuts Jin off, and Namjoon turns, pulling out his phone in one motion and setting it on the table, saying, “What is it, Yoongi?”

“So, I was doing some digging and apparently the cardstock that each of the notes were written on can only be bought online from a specific retailer.” He snorts, and the sound of typing fills in Yoongi’s silence. “Our unsub has expensive taste, I’ll say that. That cardstock is not cheap. So, I tracked the most recent shipping to an abandoned apartment complex, and, get this, the address also had a bouquet of roses sent to it recently.”

Your heart races as Yoongi’s words register. Around you, your team is already in action and you struggle to keep up, shoving your case file in your bag and checking that your gun is holstered.

“Thanks, Yoongi,” Namjoon says, already grabbing his phone and turning on his heel. “Let’s get this guy.”

“Hey, Taehyung.”

You stand by Taehyung’s bedside, staring at your teammate’s broken and listless form. The steady beeping of a monitor sounds in time with the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the smell of chemicals makes your nose burn. Taehyung’s cheeks are hollow, sunken, and his skin is ashen. You grab your teammate’s frail hand, fighting the rising sadness within you.

“I stopped by to tell you we’re going to capture the person who did this to you.”

Your voice cracks, and you quickly swipe at the moisture forming at your eyes. The sight of Taehyung’s listless body makes your heart break, and anger and pain rush through you. “Jimin and Jin are waiting in the car, but I just had to see you first. I’m so sorry that this happened to you. It should have been me, not you.”

You close your eyes and fight to breathe, your inhale shaky and ragged. You force your feelings down, wrestling them away. You’re so focused on evening your breaths that you miss a slight rustling, miss the feeling of the hand against yours pull away.

“Y/N?”

You gasp as a familiar voice calls your name, your eyes snapping open. Taehyung moves, head lilting from side to side. His eyes flutter, and he groans.

“Taehyung, oh my god.” You quickly move closer. “How are you — ”

“I was on my way to tell you it’s someone on our team.”

Taehyung’s confession is like a splash of cold water, dousing you. You blink your eyes rapidly, trying to process his statement.

“What are you talking about?”

Taehyung opens his mouth to respond and is cut off by an intense bout of coughing. He doubles over, the beeping of his heart monitor increasing in frequency. Your hands flutter as you panic at the sight, unsure what to do.

“I’m going to go get a nurse — ”

“Stay.” Taehyung’s hand shoots out unnaturally fast, capturing your wrist and halting your movements towards the door. He turns his head as he lets out another cough, his grip not loosening for a moment. “I have…to tell you…about what I found.”

As Taehyung speaks, his voice loses its power. His grip on your wrist weakens, and he leans back against his bed, groaning. His eyes flutter closed as he lets out another cough.

“Taehyung?”

You receive no response, and you shake Taehyung’s hand desperately.

“Taehyung, please, I can’t do this without you,” your voice cracks as the realization that Taehyung has left you once again hits you. You close your eyes as a single tear escapes. You count to ten slowly before opening your eyes, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Taehyung’s forehead.

“We’ll catch the person who did this, mark my words,” you vow, turning on your heel and storming towards the vehicle where Jimin and Jin are waiting for you.

Whatever happens next, you’re ready. And you’re determined to make someone pay.

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[children-of-epiales]

Operation Golden Hydra

(Nightmare is finally bested at the worst possible time)

 “ Do you-can you hear that?”

Ōkami turned his head to the right. He could hear it: the rushing footsteps of someone who could carry the earth on his back. He and Reaper started running, being just fast enough to avoid pieces of the wall as a massive man broke through it; not even a little phased, he glanced to his right and started chasing after the two. 

Reaper glanced at the wiring on her wrist and pressed something. A net fell from above and curled around the pursuer, the electricity activating a not second later. Reaper glanced a few times so she could see the man struggle to pull the net off of him and powered on along with Ōkami.

“ Hold on-” the Irish Ranger stuck his arm out in front of the brunette, the both of them stumbling back while a strangely shaped gadget hit the wall adjacent to them. 

First, Ōkami was pushing his friend back-screaming for her to get away-so she wouldn’t be harmed by the gadget, but the blast that followed sent the both of them flying back. 

Reaper was the first to try and scramble onto her feet, yet she couldn’t move fast enough and was met with a kick in the gut. The attacker punched her, but the extra bonus of the mask being reinforced protected her and Reaper returned the favor, catching her attacker off guard. 

If Ōkami would get up, she could buy him some time to get away. 

However, when she got a good look at the one she was fighting, Reaper couldn’t help being taken aback. The woman apparently had been wearing a cap and headphones of some sort that fell off and, when she sat up, Reaper felt as if her heart stopped beating. 

There was no time to admire of course, as the woman was on her feet in not time and the two started having at it; somehow they got out of the hallway and onto a cat grating walkway in a storage room, Reaper had to avoid looking down every time she was slammed into the railing or had to avoid a kick.

She was never the best at reaction speed, something that Reaper tried to make up for by working on her strengths. But that didn’t matter this time, as the moment she tried to dodge a strike-the masked woman found herself being kicked in the chest. 

One moment, practically everything was dark. Next, she could see the rays of sunlight entering the building through the skylights. A fist blocked the sight and sent her head back against the grating. 

She could feel the barrel of a gun against her head and opened her eyes once more, the green-haired goddess she spent so much time “stalling” glaring down at her. 

“ Koniec gry, Boogeyman.”

*****

Nemesis threw her head back and sucked in some air. Although they were all really screwed at the moment, she had no regrets about continuing to land on the rig-despite noticing before that something strange was going on.

She just wished her team hadn’t had their asses kicked by people who clearly were used to these situations.

The Frenchwoman sighed and threw the thin pad she carried with her on the floor. “ They hacked it-” Manāt finally spoke, “-I can’t get in contact with any of the others! Nor I do know if the Lwa’s caught anyone…” She made eye contact with the redhead standing across from her. 

“ I don’t know where Soleil is. What do we do?” 

“ Where are your sonars set up?”

“ I’ve got one on me and two are near the entrance. Why does it matter?”

Nemesis gave Manāt a blank look. “ If I’m getting cuffed, I’m going to make it really fucking difficult for them to put those cuffs on me.” She stated. “ Get your gun.” 

The women walked quietly: Manāt glanced behind her and to her sides in a clock-like manner, Nemesis remained fixed on the end of the path ahead of them. They made their way down two flights of stairs, silence settled in, but the redhead wouldn’t say anything. Because this time, she knew that she and Manāt had lost their pursuers. 

They were likely the only ones being searched for. 

Manāt suddenly split from the redhead’s side and placed her back against the wall. Nemesis did the same almost a second too late, the women watching a rather older-looking man in black pass by the hallway they were standing in. 

A woman in camouflage with a red beret followed the older man, except she was not the only version of herself. 

Nemesis backed against the wall as far as she could, her eyes growing as she watched another of the same woman enter the hallway she and Manāt hid in. There were two of the exact same woman. 

She passed, however, and Nemesis gestured for her and Manāt to keep going.

They ran into an office, the latter could see her Sonar just ahead, near the door they entered after the fight started. The gadget emitted a soft white light, shaped by the design of the sonar so it looked like a ring; this was its way of letting Manāt know it still worked. 

“ Watch it!” Nemesis hissed, stopping the Frenchwoman just in time to miss a bullet that passed her head. 

Next to the Sonar, the same red beret stood with her gun aimed at the women. Manāt thought of dropping her gun-but Nemesis started firing, so the former was able to see the bullets fly right through the red beret. 

The red beret disappeared then. Footsteps came from the same corridor the display stood in. Manāt ran over to her gadget, pressing the sides and readjusting it, and motioned for Nemesis to get away. 

“ This way-get ready!” Someone with an Italian accent shouted. 

Manāt covered her ears and crouched as the red beret and someone else ran into the office. It didn’t matter that they had a few minutes over the Sonar; the overwhelming alarm sent them back into the corridor, but no one could move at all due to the danger of one’s eardrums rupturing. 

Once the alarm stopped, the two tried to collect themselves so they could make another break for it while their pursuers were distracted. 

*****

The only good thing about being alone was that no one could scold Soleil for ditching his mask. It’s not that he could never work with it-there was no problem with wearing the mask, it was the small issue of being blown against a wall and then fired from different sides and not being able to see all of what was happening. To be fair, Nightmare had experienced such a situation when they were together, not having been separated like they were now. 

If he saw his team again, he didn’t know if he would be honest about the issue or if he would save his complaints for a “better” time. 

The Frenchman took his handgun out and looked down at it. This was the only weapon he had left on him; he lost his knife during the first ambush and had to suffer watching his precious Lwa get blown apart. 

Not that any of these misfortunes would stop him. 

Glass crunching under someone’s foot caused Soleil to step away from the corner and cock his gun, knowing even that little bit of sound meant giving away his position. So he swung around the corner with his gun aimed at eye level. 

The weapon remained in place as Soleil turned back around and entered the storage he hid in; he lowered his gun once he realized whoever was walking around wasn’t near him before, but failed to consider that he gave his position away. 

Another sound made itself known. Soleil turned and glanced down at the black ball that rolled into the room. He managed only a gasp before a series of flashes and sparks overwhelmed him. 

***** 

“ So you’re the one called Nemesis. Vengeance, right?”

Nemesis looked up at the stranger. “ Excuse me?” 

“ Nemesis, from Greek mythology? Isn’t that the idea? You’re Nemesis, so you’re vengeance?” The man with salt and pepper hair asked. 

The entire time, the redhead could only stare at his fingers. Why they were bandaged-they were burned but that was obvious. Was he trying to hide the burns? There was no way, not with how messy the bandaging was.

“ I mean, I guess...” Nemesis shrugged, trying to look bored. Of course, the stranger was right; Nemesis wanted to be considered vengeance, but didn’t want to call herself that.

 She stumbled across information about the goddess via a mythology fan back in college and recalled that there were a lot of Greek gods. She figured there had to be a god of vengeance. 

“ Who did you want to get revenge for?” 

“ That doesn’t matter now, does it?” 

The stranger shrugged, his head tilted toward one of his shoulders and then the other. “ I would have to disagree,” he stated. “ Whoever you were doing this for-they still matter to you. I’m just asking who this person is.”

“ Don’t you have information on me? Read that.” Nemesis hissed at him. “ You already have me-my team-why not just do what needs to be done already?”

“ I mean…He’s a little busy at the moment, but once he’s back-” the stranger stood up from the table and folded his arms, concealing his fingers, “-we’ll make sure you’re the first to speak to him.”

“ Who’s him?”

“ You can call him Six.”