#infected sun is conflicted

[sunboki]

— THE ALCHEMIST. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. historical! au, set in 1940’s Korea, alchemist! au, friends to lovers, fluff, angst

WARNINGS. abusive behavior toward women, impoverished communities, overall sexist beliefs of the time, reader dresses as a man, mentions of death & disease, smoking (not reader or minho), war conflict, making out??

WORD COUNT. 9.6k words

AUG'S NOTES. although it was a bit out of the blue, i had such a great time writing and shaping this universe, thank you to all the love and support thus far<3 also, huge thanks to @comet-falls for instilling the peaky blinders/historical! minho vision in my head with how incredible tooth and claw was, i truly owe it to you :)

SYNOPSIS. Cities stricken with poverty, the lack of male presence in your home while surviving in a male-dominated society leaves meager food on the table and a piling debt. Left no choice but to make a risky decision, you decide that, if biology wanted to fail you, you’d simply try another approach.

alternatively :

In which deception introduces you into an entirely new reality, and The Alchemist.

It’s one thing surviving with the knowledge you can change something, whatever it may be that’s wrong. 

It’s another when that problem isn’t merely changeable, but biological. 

Your problem? You’re a woman. 

Not as easy to fix, right?

.

.

.

With your father lost in the war, fruitlessly straining to support a family of girls, the household is left helpless.

Representation is nonexistent, and merely walking outside frets harassment and laughter struck in your face at the mention of working. 

A woman, working? Hilarious. 

Or, apparently to the men in pubs it certainly is.

Some things you can’t change, yes, but there are always alternatives. And as for now, you’re helplessly searching high and low for that alternative, whatever it may be. 

Selling yourself is possible, though the inability to remain connected to your family eliminates that option. 

When you get so desperate, there’s no incentive in guarding your pride. Because being called derogatory names isn’t as bad as losing them, the people you call home.

October welcomes little warmth, biting your fingertips and sending a tremor of chills cascading down your spine. Minimal sunlight peers through dense clouds, shrouding the atmosphere in a depressing haze. 

You’re on your way to the apothecary, but not to purchase anything. The pennies in your pocket won’t amount to anything in the face of medicinal prices, which happens to be one of your many alternatives. 

Since day one, you’ve had a rock to rely on.

Medicine. 

Lack of money meant improper living conditions, entailing sickness. 

Constantly.

Whether it was your mother, your younger sister, yourself, an infection of some sort occupied your respiratory system, wreaking havoc for wallets and mental health altogether. 

Purchasing necessary medication became impossible the further you drowned in your debt, to the point drastic measures needed to be taken in order to prevent death from infesting itself in the household as well.

Then came the question. If you couldn’t purchase the medicine itself, why not collect the ingredients?

Alternatives.

Behind the apothecary you discovered mint hedges that, if mixed with wormwood and balm, could aid in curing Sun-ja’s current sickness, colic. 

Although, you’d have to be swift in your efforts, ensuring the shop owner didn’t notice your presence.

Too many times had you nearly been caught, risking a good beating from the red-haired, burly man regarded as Mr. Myeong.

Fiery red hair complimented an equally unruly personality you aimed not to cross by. Ever.

Yet, unlike Mr. Myeong, his wife was the polar opposite, an ideal magnet. She was petite and soft-spoken, but out of her appealing traits, you found her resilience to be most attractive.

Mrs. Myeong is stubborn. She’s strong in what she believes, sporting an unquestionably vocal opinion that can’t be quenched.

The woman is, likely, the only woman capable of sealing her husband’s mouth shut.  

Hidden between thorn ridden weeds sits your desired leaves, abundant in supply.

You clutch your satchel closer, plucking as quickly as possible whilst crouched to the ground, maneuvering through tickling grasses and itchy reeds. 

Your mission remains successful, until the wretched sound of a doorknob rips your head upward, the red-haired man in question standing nonplussed, arms crossed. 

He wears a cocked brow, examining what you’re desperately trying to veil away.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Stealing, are we?” Black boot clad frame thumping closer, you immediately prepare to run, hair standing on end like an agitated feline.

Instead, his huge hand swoops down to grab your collar, other evidently ready to land a harsh slap to your face.

Instinctively cringing, you brace for the stinging impact.

That is, before a saccharine, lullaby-worthy voice rings from the cracked doorway, belonging to none other than Mrs. Myeong.

“Honey! Have you seen the new envelope that came in?” 

Heels clicking whilst padding over cobblestone to where you two stand, her husband fixates you with a stern, threatening glare. 

Finally dropping your frame to the ground, you slump forward, pulse pounding loud enough you fear your chest may implode. 

Mrs. Myeong, though wearing a taut expression, ushers him off, delivering a curt nod your way, intentional brows furrowed in place. 

‘Thank you’ You wish to say, but hold your tongue, watching them disappear inside.

Another time.

Walking home was rather uneventful (much to your delight), left to enjoy the crisp, cool air sifting through your lungs in steady rhythm, the lazy billows of cigar smoke dwindling from gaping doorways.

Calm. 

Nothing calm ever lasts long.

Stashing the house key back into your decrepit leather draw bag, your footsteps still upon entering, struck terror-filled.

Your mother, strawn across the floor, hacks amongst her rampant coughs, body convulsing in desperate shivers, skin drenched a ghastly blue.

Sprinting to her side, you kneel down, rolling the woman over to find her face utterly battered, new black eye beginning to swell, cheek bruised a mawkish purple against hollowed cheekbones. 

Sharks.

To your left Sun-ja hides in the corner, rags for a blanket pulled to her chest, shielded between the wall and a tipped cabinet. 

Over and over they’ve begun visiting, to the point your mother became recognizable by her continuous black eye, her torn clothing and stooped posture. 

Exhausted, she was exhausted. 

Yet, she took the beatings. The torturous punches. Jarring slaps, traumatic insults, tarnishing. Your mother took it so you wouldn’t, so you and Sun-ja could live.

And it’s at that moment you make up your mind, discover this occasion’s alternative. 

“Cut it off.” 

“Cut.. Cut it off?” Hyunjin gapes, fingers stalling their descent down a strand of your hair. 

You smile, grimacing the longer consideration poises.

No point in thinking too much.

“Yep. Give me the most boy-ish haircut you can.” You emphasize, gesturing toward his scissors expectantly. 

Hyunjin, your personally appointed hairstylist, doesn’t seem too convinced. He’s debating, expertly reading your features.

Currently, you’re holed up in his room, a miniature apartment located near the furthest section of town, close to the coast.

In wee hours of morning you boarded the train here, inhaling salty, ocean-smelling breeze. Back in your old residence you met him, your neighbor Hwang Hyunjin. It’s a miracle you still stayed in contact, bond aging like the finest of wines over countless years. 

Enough to where you trusted him to help you enact this alternative of yours. 

Starting with a haircut.

The man stares at you through the mirror, dark, inky hair matting the longer he runs his hands through it. 

Thoughtfully trying to figure out your reasoning, he evidently catches on the moment you witness his eyes roll, releasing a heaving sigh.

“You cannot be serious.”

A torrential truth keeps you from responding, gaze directed at your feet. 

“Y/n,” He uttered, eyes filling with a concern you avoid meeting, avoid regarding in a whole. “You don’t have to do this, the war is going to end soon and your father will come ba—“

“He’s dead.”

Silence engulfs the room.

Collecting yourself, you scorn his frown.

“He’s dead and gone. Now I need to protect them, provide for them.“ 

You deny the shakiness of your voice.

“So, Hyunjin. Cut off my hair.”

Accordingly, he does without another word. Snip by snip, tress by tress falling below, scattering the tile floor in endless strands.

By the time you see yourself, it’s hard to recognize the person in the reflection. Never had you considered your hair a viable source of identity, but now that it’s so sparse, the effect is eminent. 

Failing to see yourself in your own reflection beckons a different kind of sadness. For the person you’ve introduced yourself as reigns no more. She’s been replaced.

Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, embrace just as comforting as you remembered. His hand reaches to caress your cropped hair, rocking back and forth on his heels, chin resting on your head. 

“Be careful, okay?”

Nodding into his shoulder, you wipe salty streaks from your cheeks. 

Hurts.

“And if you need a place to take shelter, I’ll be here.”

Steadying in his hug again, you pull back, cherishing his kindness with a chaste kiss to the cheek. 

“Thank you, really.”

Shaking his head at your gratitude, urging you out and lingering by the doorway till your figure retreats in the distance.

Next stop, Mrs. Myeong. 

If anyone has any idea how to source the clothing you’re needing, your best chance would be thanks to her. 

An hour later you arrive in familiar avenues, creeping out of sight into the apothecary in hopes the woman you’re looking for is working the counter. 

Much to your pleasure, after a few unsuccessful attempts do you grasp her attention, edging forward under the guise of a regular hoping to converse. 

“I need your help.”

Initially, she carries that sternness, wordlessly lifting your hooded head a bit to notice the latest adjustment. Shock written over her face, Mrs. Myeong drags you along with her, closing the door to a back room.   

“My child, what is going on?” She whispers, tone urgent. You can’t help but feel fond of the affectionate nickname.

“I need male clothing and,” You hesitate, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “something to bind my chest with.”

Similar to Hyunjin, she steps back, assessing the situation at hand. Spending a brief few seconds roaming your figure, the woman works hastily toward fetching a petticoat, meticulously fitting each article atop your stock-still frame.

“You’re conceited,” she grumbles. “And foolish.” Carefully peeling off your upper-wear, she’s managed to cut a piece of thick cloth to use as a make-shift binder, assembling the fabric over your breast. 

The experience, although strange, wasn’t as painful as anticipated.

“But be careful, and stay in contact.”

Your response is hushed.

“Breathe in,” The older woman instructs, securing her creation with a threaded pin before moving onto other aspects, like a proper coat and pants. 

Mr. Myeong’s trousers, though having to be sewn to fit, make do, and you’re reminded to return tomorrow for shoes. Otherwise, the attire is completed, paired with a curved hat to finish. 

Sure, the entire male concept is foreign, but given time, you’ll gradually acclimate.

Oh, right. 

Your alternative?

Since medicine is what you know, you’ll stick with that. Difference being medicine is a men’s occupation, and so, if you can’t be a female working in the field, why not become male? 

Well, somewhat become male.

It’s a risky wager, easily placing your life on the line in the process. 

For your mother and Sun-ja, however, it’s your turn to take the beating. Your turn to endure.

Observation is a virtue. It can save and preserve, heed to oncoming danger, and simultaneously (and discreetly) supply useful information.

Today, seated on a bench in Daegu Station, your first observation is the abundance of people scurrying like mice.

Some tall, some short. Distinct moles, eyes. Upturned and downturned lips. Mustaches, beards. Much to see.

Your legs cross and uncross, Mr. Myeong’s oversized heeled shoes beginning to sink at your ankles. Hat strung low enough to peer out without attracting attention, your gaze is magnetically drawn to a magazine held on the adjacent side of the train tracks, title on display.   

Prized Alchemist Lee Minho suspected of being the lone survivor of the Red Plagu—

Ignorant to your surroundings, your senses posed numb to the incoming train, blocking off the last few words of the title from view the moment it soars past—nearly sweeping the fedora off your head. 

By the time the last few train cars passed, the man honing said magazine had disappeared, and you were left wondering if the experience was merely a figment of your imagination.  

Although, you did have one lead. A name.

Lee Minho. 

Where you’d find him remained unknown, deciding to rely on a magazine parlor first and foremost for more intel.  

To no surprise, nearly every magazine rack lay lined with haughty opinions regarding the war and its evident cruelty.

Many onlookers of both Americans, Koreans, and foreigners alike chatter amongst themselves about their own take between gossiping hands and fumes of tobacco.

In this town, located far off in the business district by a ship port, people are everywhere.

Wives of sailors, families of soldiers off at war. Women honing gleaning parasols and ivory gloves reaching to their elbows.

Languages you’ve never heard before utter their enunciated syllables, vocabulary petulant with accent—all shrouded in dismay.   

Roaming the store endlessly to no avail, you prepare to adventure back through dusty streets and battered wooden stall-shops before a peculiar name pauses your footsteps. 

His name, The Alchemist, Lee Minho.

“Bring ‘em home I tell ‘ya,” An aged man by the deepened grooves of his face, hollow cheekbones and bunched wrinkles grumbles.

A fat cigar hangs loosely from thin lips, pale baker boy cap adorning a bald head. 

Some sentences estranged, you identify his sentences as French, heavy in dialect, throaty and broad.

And although your fluency stay patchy, exposure from French immigrants who’ve relocated near home allow minimal understanding as to what they’re talking about.

“Say, did you hear that Lee Minho chap was a Red Plague?” His counterpart offered past his own leering cigar, foot tapping incessantly.

The other hacks his bewilderment, feeble fist pounding on an equally feeble chest.

“The Alchemist?” 

The man’s astonishment returned with a nod, you lean closer, pretending to be consumed in an article. 

“Said he was only nineteen when it happened. Shipped ‘em off only for disease to kill them all. One survived, now people are speculatin’ it’s him.”

Either of them sigh out long drags.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Is all the other huffs in disbelief, and upon recognizing the conversation approaching an end, you stir to action, willing your voice to deepen an octave.

Attempting to appeal in your broken French, you stall the two, cautiously claiming you’re in need of his whereabouts for an esteemed business transaction to which, through confused stares, you’re given loose directions.

Loose, but feasible.

80 Kent Avenue, dark blue doors.

Directions that, according to the sudden blank of streetlights, would have to wait until tomorrow. As for now, the world beckoned you to rest, and any progress would prove futile and rather impossible in the dark.

Luckily, a run-down Inn gifted good few hours of shut-eye before dawn peered through the windowsills and you were begrudgingly forced to your feet. 

Fitting the binder snug across your body and fastening your trench coat through minuscule belt loops, you’re taught with much haste the stark difference of men’s prestige entitlement. 

First access to everything, the ability to have their way with a woman whether she willingly obliges or not, and just about ten billion other things someone of your hidden status couldn’t fathom.

A man’s world is a world only possible through disguise. Yours just happens to be a last resort.

Charming the mistress at the front desk was unexpectedly effortless, not to mention how easily she spilled the details as to where Kent Avenue would be located.

Another noticeable attribute of your new appearance, no one asked as to where you were going nor your intentions, they merely dipped their heads and wished you off.

Adjustments.

Adjustments that, if you’d been born different, would be normal.

Kent Avenue lay twisted in shadows. The surrounding area brims in barely flickering labels and creaking doorways leading to who knows where. Quaint isn’t the word for it. More ancient, all-knowing. 

This place has been here for centuries with many stories to tell, most just haven’t heard them yet.

Significantly dark blue doors make the Alchemist’s residence easily noticeable, starkly contrasting with wooded architecture. Massive doorknobs engraved with lions, windows shielded by moth-eaten curtains. Grand, in its own form.

You swore each door stood eight feet tall, the left in particular left slightly ajar.

Wait, ajar?

Doing a double take to ensure your vision wasn’t playing tricks on you, you inch forward, widening the dark gap exponentially until all you faced was a black abyss—apart from the miniature lamp beaming yellow light in a far corner.

Carefully tiptoeing into said black abyss, the further you explore, the greater the visibility increases. Leather cushioned furniture, clean, polished desks. The desk the lone lamp rests upon is a chestnut wooden, ink feathers residing in the upper corner.

Somehow, the matter grants envy, resentment grating your nerves. This man lives comfortably while other’s are beaten for possessing nothing. Maybe it’s a petty, unnecessary thought; and maybe you’re foolish, but all odds are against you, your disposition seems righteous.

Getting too lost in your head turned out foolish as well.

“What’s this?” A voice behind you whispers, voice ghosting chills tickling your neck at an alarming pace. 

Whipping around, eyes struck wide in shock, the person responsible for the remark comes into view, his stature opposing the tone muttered in your ear seconds ago.     

Not a plump business man like you imagined, not adorning a spectacle, no pipe in sight. Instead, one lone button right below the chest fits snug white sleeves cuffed by his elbows, black vest hugging a slim torso.

Conniving, cat-like eyes analyze your expressions while dark brown hair parts to the side, loose strands covering his right eyebrow. And when he reaches up to brush a few frayed tresses to the side you note sleek gloves covering long, pale fingers. 

If anything, this man is more similar to a Vampire.

“Trespassing, are we?”

Collect yourself. This is your opportunity.

Swiftly brushing off your clothes, you clear your throat.

“I have an offer.”

“An offer?” A smile belonging to that of a Cheshire cat adorns his lips, one leg propping itself over the other, fingers intertwining in front of him.

Ensuring your voice is clear and concise (while keeping the deeper, male-ish tone), you state your claim, despising how utterly debilitating it feels being caught under his observative stare. 

Like he sees through you.

“I would be a valuable asset to your studies in alchemy. I know about herbs and their uses better than anyone else, and where they’re located.”

Sure, the bargain might’ve sounded arrogant, but you were technically cosplaying as a man when most men of your time couldn’t shut up about themselves, arrogance was the least of your problems. 

Gnawing at his cheek as you spoke, he pauses a moment, then laughs.

Amused. 

Dark lashes dust above equally dark eyes, nearly black as they study you.

“You want to be my apprentice? Is that it?”

You remain close-lipped.

“I’ll tell you one thing, kid. This world is all about money,” He raises a cane from where he reclined, using the end to tip your chin up and meet his eyes. 

“No?” 

To which you simply stare back at him, refusing to avert eye-contact. 

“I’m sure that’s what you’re here for anyways.” Rising from his place, he sighs heartily. “But see, I’m a greedy man, not a good man.” 

Abruptly, his countenance falls flat. 

“And my job isn’t fun, so you’re out of luck.” 

Immediately, you’re frantic, trying your hardest to ignore his obvious statement to leave. The last thing you need is to run out of luck, run out of options.

And so, you hastily wrack your mind for a solution, an excuse, whatever keeps you in this dimly lit room.

“You- You were part of the Red Plague, weren’t you?” Spitting out words from the depths of your racing mind, The Alchemist stops, fixing you with an unreadable look.

Red Plague as in, the group of young men enlisted during the war that all died of a deadly disease but one. One who, many speculate is the man before you.

Breathe in.

“I may not know much about you, but I know what it’s like to want to save somebody.”

Breathe out.

Now it was his turn to stand there, and for a second you swore you saw a flash of sympathy cross his face.

You wet your lips. “I’ll run your errands and wash your clothing, I’ll clean this place spotless. Plus, it’s not like I’m a woman asking for a job, so please, give me a chance.” 

Slowly, The Alchemist raises a brow, laugh disbelieving.

“Since when did being a woman have anything to do with this?” 

Huh?

How.. odd.

If anything, the majority would wholeheartedly agree, likely hiring you on the spot with how impalpable such a jest seemed.

He would’ve laughed, maybe slapped your back. Would’ve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, proclaimed you his friend.

Yet, you almost feel flattered. Flattered in a strange, unrealistic manner. 

Basking in a deplorable quietness, The Alchemist sighs, combing a gloved hand through silken strands. 

“I have a spare room around that corner.” He points, leather gloves narrowly highlighted by orange lighting.  “Make yourself useful, hm?”

And like that, even if it was a long shot, you landed it. More specifically, landed a job. 

How preposterous. 

How exciting. 

Yet, it began hesitantly. As if he was initially testing your usefulness. Sending you on runs to the nearby gardens, having you make sure a concoction didn’t derange itself while he fetched better flasks. Easy things.

However, you didn’t complain. A boring job was better than no job, and as long as a few coins were emptied into your pocket afterward, you’d continue to work without whining.  

Burdock, oregano. Motherwort that would erupt billows of chemically-infused air when added to oils or sugars.  

Then you noticed The Alchemist. His quirks, his  characteristics. 

He shifts between a long trench coat or tight vests, his hair is always styled a certain way, though some days, when he just wakes up, he has this tiny bird nest of hair atop his head, it’s charming. 

He yawns a lot. 

He wears heeled shoes, maybe from his shorter height, maybe preference. 

And rather peculiarly, the longer you stay in his lair, the greater you notice the many scars littering his forearms, collarbones. Miniature cuts and imprints left on porcelain skin. 

Those observations, conjoined with his reactions, make for a truly interesting character. 

Reactions being his dislike toward loud noises, the matter in which his shoulders scrunch at a loud clap outside, eyes blown wide, fearful. 

The longer you stay in his lair, the more you notice him, nonetheless his fears. Whether suspicion clarifies anything in specific, there’s no denying he’s a man of war. 

Lee Minho has secrets, and as badly as your nosiness itches to uncover them, you, as you had promised earlier, will keep your lips sealed. 

And it makes you wonder, what’s life like on your side of the street? What throng of unfairness left you awash, left you both suffering? 

You wonder about your oppositions and similarities in different points of each other’s lives. Minutes, decades before you ever met.

Certain stones shall stay unturned, but you hope, maybe one day, those questions will be answered.  

Interestingly enough, he never asked about your name; not even when you gingerly introduced yourself as your last name, a rather awkward fit.

Likewise, you don’t complain. There’s only two of you in the house after all.

A week in, you’re finally introduced to something new. 

The Alchemist plans to have you tag along with him to Port Nova, a docking station located on the outskirts of Busan.

Business thrives in ship ports, the sole source of connectivity for a growing country like Korea. Each day, millions of shipments come in from countries you can’t name, so you’re not surprised in the slightest he’s headed there for a transaction. 

You are surprised he decided to have you tag along.

Even more so that, as you hop off the transit, hurriedly tailing his left, he veers off a sharp turn, approaching a worn Burlesque Club, glittering sign halfway dangling from its perch on a scarlet red awning. 

English letters spell out Nova Burlesque, a few missing letters left astray to the side, electrical bulbs spasming with sporadic lighting on the dusty ground below.

In the daylight, the place appears ordinary, blending in with its crumbling, desolate surroundings. 

Although, you have no doubt this place utterly delights in the eve, pink-neon inviting enough to lure unaware foreigners upon first arrival. 

“Mr. Lee,” You utter, returned with a short scoff from the man who insisted you refer to him by his name, Minho. 

“Where are we going?”

It’s hesitant, unsure of whether to intervene, but Minho only smirks, whispering a not-very-assuring “You’ll see” you begrudgingly go along with. 

Inside is the last of what you anticipated. 

Oh dear.

You’ve only been to minimal Burlesque Clubs, but the ornery perspective of faux jewelry, a glittery, hallucinatory stage, and the constant rendition of Why Don’t You Do Right whirling on scratchy records isn’t present here. 

Alternatively, there’s stools scattered around a marginally illuminated clearing, some upturned, others occupied by burly men with equally burly beards. 

And in the middle, a boxing ring is situated. The stench of sweat and blood soaks the air in a metallic, pungent aroma.

A brisk realization crosses your mind, a conclusion of a sort.

Play a fool’s game, earn a fool’s reward.

Only you, Hyunjin, and Ms. Myeong know the lengths you’re willing to go to secure your family's well-being, and now, at odds you can’t compromise, you have to do everything in your power to maintain your act.

This is a test.

Sifting behind you, he murmurs a hushed: “Cover your ears.” That you begrudgingly oblige to, cupping either hand over your ears as Minho clutches his leather holster, concealed within the confines of a frequently worn coat.

In a split second, a gunshot is fired to the ceiling, the bullet's shell casing dropping atop the welt of his pointed shoe.

Stunned silence ensues.

Arm still extending the revolver in the air, you haphazardly remove your hands, dragging the hat further over your face as more eyes focus on the both of you. 

“I’m looking for Reiner and Manfred.”

The longer the tension rises, the further you grow self conscious.

“Already?” A man bellows from inside the ring, breaking the awestruck spell whilst gripping his opponent by the collar, fist poised and ready to strike. 

Unusually, they seem to know each other.

Minho merely exhales a loud sigh through his nose, practically two times smaller than his apparent acquaintance. 

Said acquaintances grumbles. 

“Leave it to our champion to interrupt the show.” 

And with that, he hooks the contender in the jaw, sending him pummeling down to the tarnished mat where hoards either cheer or groan, hustling money left and right over the victor.

Champion of the show? You’re adding that to your collection of never ending questions that’ll likely stay unanswered.

From the crowd arises two men. The victor from the ring and another from the crowd, dressed lavishly opposed to his white tank top-wearing counterpart. 

Reiner and Manfred, you assume. 

Serving as a mere shadow in The Alchemist’s wake, the four of you hustle outside, met with a nonplussed Minho and two, mildly confused (and enormously tall) men. 

Foreigners, certainly.

“..Care to introduce the pipsqueak?” Reiner presumably more talkative, piques, beady eyes scouring your figure enough to where you scorn the beads of sweat collecting upon your temple. 

Pipsqueak my foot. 

You stave down the retort, inhabiting Minho’s shadow as the three discuss matters of a hospital transaction. Almost like you weren’t there at all, as it’s always been.

If it weren’t for the technicalities, you would’ve interjected, made your presence known. Except, other than herbal instances, you’re a novice in the business department. You’ll leave that up to your current mentor to arrange.

Again, lips sealed.

Minho, ignorant to the previous victor’s question, continues to sign legal documents supplied by the calmer individual, Manfred. You internally thank the gesture.

Well, before Reiner’s sordid gaze becomes too stifling to brush off.

“I’m Mr. Lee’s apprentice, L/N. Nice to meet you,” You initiate, fearlessly reaching out a hand he heartily shakes, features graced with amusement, massive hand practically engulfing yours. 

Pardoning a gruff “Likewise”, he nearly sends you flying from the timbre of his voice alone.

“Say,” Reiner mutters, finally completing the last of the package transfers. “Don’t you think this one seems a bit feminine?”

Your jaw ticks, nervousness shrouding your being like an unrelenting fog. Minho’s fingers close around your elbow, pulling you closer, brows knit.

“Perhaps you need your eyes checked, Reiner,” He offers, tone nonchalant opposed to the vice-like grip latched to your arm.

Heftily chortling, the man only pats your back, causing your entire body to surge forward upon impact.

“Well regardless, it’s a cute little thing ain’t it?”

Manfred simply grunts his acknowledgment while you bite your tongue, coveting your retaliation when he referred to you as “it”.

No use growing angered. The feeling is futile.

Luckily, your irritable arrangement comes to a hasty close, more than gleeful to have an understandably annoyed Minho steer you from Port Nova onto a short train back to Kent Avenue, to your newly established home.

A home, but not really a home. Semi-permanent, unofficial.

Either way, you wouldn’t complain. Despite the constant efforts in diminishing your past identity, you didn’t feel as conscious when around Minho. 

Safer.

As if, in an alternative reality, you could tell him. Your truths, your burdens.

No. You won’t jeopardize this opportunity. You can’t.

At least, not yet.

“I’ll be back Mr. Lee!” You shout, wielding a briefcase bag to your person, nudging the ghoulish door open using your hip.

As usual, you’re headed off on a restocking trip.

Except on this occasion, the restocking consists of hunting down a peculiar herb: Chinese Chrysanthemum. It’s an appealing plant with fluorescent leaves and a constant need for sunlight. 

It’s no surprise he’s sent you to fetch such goods. After two months, you soared in and out of the residence routinely, scouring Korea while Minho hunched over a wildly diverse array of vials and flasks, glasses propped on his slightly hooked nose, hands firmly resting on a wooden exam table.

Studious. He is very studious. 

However, a catch diverts itself from eye view. A catch you hadn’t considered until your two feet stepped from squealing train tracks.

Somehow, although unusually intentional, you wound up in a rather peculiar area. An area you never imagined paying a visit to in your wildest dreams.

In the midst of economic outrage and warring circumstances, you’re standing in one of Korea’s most unstable, informal districts. A place that, according to your overhearing ear, was where your precious Chrysanthemum lodged.

This district had an infamous name. 

The Den.

A fitting name in actuality, where a person didn’t realize they were stuck till it was too late, unable to see where they’re going, living in belief there’s an incentive to the finish line in a race run in circles. 

Also, a place the Sharks who torment your family report to.

You can hear your heart thrumming in your ears, nearly ricocheting out of your chest with its horrid cacophony. 

Calm down. 

Calm down. Think of the goal. 

All you have to do is find a flower. 

Grounding yourself, you pinpoint some viable resources. 

Fertile soil, maybe even sandy, likely in the inner portion of The Den.

Plus, you’re dressed as a man, you might as well act outrageously boisterous.

But you’re not, you’re afraid. Perhaps not external, but inside, your lungs feel as if they’re being violently crushed, sinking deeper in an unsteady submersible to the very bottom of the ocean. And for a second, you truly contemplate going back, telling Minho you’re incapable of the task.

Yet, what would you say? You’re haunted by a vision that hasn’t happened? Fearful for a future event with no guarantee? If you had ever done something so horrid, they would’ve found you ages ago.

This time, you’re in their domain, invading what’s theirs as they’ve done to you. 

Greater. You aren’t who you used to be, in more ways than one.

Genuinely, what is there to lose?

That’s it. You’ll complete the mission and return. No run-ins, no fear barricading your job.

In and out.

Initially, you scout out your surroundings, regarding the faint sound of voices funneling in the distance, the smell of mixtures you hate being able to identify, far off machinery croaking before smoke spurs from rusted screws and bolts.

Amongst the chatter of street vendors and the many, notorious gang members patrolling in and out of abandoned shops, you roam avidly, keeping as low a profile as possible.

Number one priority is to not be noticed. Drawing attention to yourself is a one way ticket to failure, and the last thing you need is to arrive back to Minho empty-handed.

However, through the blinding clouds of smoke billowing from exhaust pipes, a specific building, shrouded in the shadows of charcoal residue, douses your peripheral.

A Greenhouse. 

Bingo.

Quickly looking around, you shrink low to the ground, racing forward to carefully creak open glass double doors and slip inside. 

It feels as if you’re enclosed in a furnace. Mere seconds in and sweat already begins gathering upon your temples.

Though that becomes the least of your concerns after assessing what lies inside. 

Hundreds, maybe even thousands of flowers and herbs. Rare species, some critically endangered, just sitting here.

It’s strange. 

Why would, in the case such an abundance existed, not be used? Why hadn’t this Greenhouse been raptured from the inside out for such valuable items? 

It’s not until a commotion stirs ahead of you that you understand the answer to the question. 

With about five plucked Chinese Chrysanthemums expertly sealed into their coordinating bags, a piercing hiss followed by multiple shouts and hollers cause you to shrink back, gazing around haphazardly.

A hiss?

From your perspective nearly kissing the dirt, your vision allows a minuscule glimpse of multiple backs turned, boisterously amused men gathering around something in the front of the Greenhouse.

You feel the need to know more.

Inching forward tip-toe by tip-toe, amidst the roaring crowd, you spare a look between the sea of legs to find an utterly deplorable sight.

A cat. 

No, not just a cat, cat fighting. They’re watching cats maul each other for the fun of it. As if they aren’t living creatures, but toys for their entertainment. 

And perhaps it’s a foolish decision, perhaps laughable being worried, being angered, but you are and you refuse to leave knowing you could’ve done something to help them.

Hastily scouring the floors, a can of Spam discarded below Foxglove stems proves useful enough, tossing it as far as possible where it whacks against the glass wall, immediately averting their attention. 

This is your chance. 

As dark clouds and incoming rain thunder outside, you don’t waste the opportunity, sprinting forward while the men make toward the direction of the sound and hoisting the first cat you see into your arms. 

Sprinting past narrow pathways and dimly lit streets, you force your eardrums numb to the threats they call after you, mind trained on one thing besides getting as far as possible from here.

To Minho to Minho to Minho.

A hand grabbing your shoulder causes you to shriek, swiftly dragged off where you swear your last breaths will be taken, the feline in your arms scrambling with panic.

“What are you doing?” Your captor furiously whispers, hidden in the low lighting of an apparent alleyway.

Wait. You recognize that voice. 

“Hyunjin?”

How does he recognize you?

Just then does a breeze swipe past your head, sending chills trickling down your rain-soaked neck. 

Your hat is gone. Must’ve fell off while you were running. 

“Wh.. what are you doing?” Slipping from his grasp after the men’s hushed conversation becomes inaudible, you regard the man with an incredulous stare.

“Answer my question first,” He reprimands, and as the cat resounds a pained meow do you assess the dire nature of the situation.

You need to get this cat to Minho, and fast. 

“Can’t- Can’t talk right now I’ve got to go—“

“Wait!”

Though, as your footsteps breach the security of the alley, the placating cry of crows mock your left, hurried footsteps belonging to those occupying the Greenhouse heading toward you in rampant haste.

Hyunjin’s hand holding your wrist, you grace a tight-lipped smile his way. 

 “Let’s not see each other like this again, okay?”

He returns a miniature grin, teeming with mischief.

“Agreed.”

Upon letting go, you race off, attempting to speedily navigate back to the train station whilst torrents of streaming droplets cascade down your face. 

“Good luck!” 

“Thanks, I’ll need it!” You respond back, voice permeated against the rain, eyes frantically searching for a place to evade. 

Finally, a crowd appears, swarming amongst diners and flickering street lights.

Your perfect hideaway. 

Swimming through the hive of people, you catapult yourself into the nearest phone booth in sight, fumbling through deep pockets before cashing a coin into the metal slot and jarring your index over slippery metal numbers.

Praying the combination is correct as you hold the wired telephone to your ear, you’re consumed with utmost relief upon hearing The Alchemist’s voice answer on the other side of the crackling line.

Amidst roaring rainfall drowning the booth, you differentiate shouting a ways off, likely belonging to the men from earlier. 

“Mr- Mr. Lee?”

“Yes? Where are you?”

“Are you.. Are you allergic to cats?”

Never in your life did you think you would be so overjoyed seeing blue doors. 

Clambering inside—the rather upset cat in your arms hissing their dismay—you’re overwhelmed with an unexplainable happiness seeing Minho’s face peer from the guest room. 

Relief.

“L/N wha..” 

Words dying in his throat as he gives you a speechless once over, your urge to hug him dissipates instantly, beckoning a new set of garments upon realizing how utterly drenched your precious disguise is.

Simultaneously shoving the cat his way before rushing to your room, you thankfully strip of your fretfully cold attire, welcomed in the comforting embrace of clean clothing.

A mere five minutes later you exit, greeted by Minho’s stockstill frame. Hand half-raised, evidently about to knock.

You forcefully clear your throat, praying the momentary awkward tension is alleviated.

Luckily, The Alchemist takes it upon himself to break the spell, eyes dancing across the floorboards in order to avoid your own.

“Well, she’s stable. Her vitals are fine, nothing too critical apart from a few cuts here and there. Just shaken up.”

Your stare of astonishment earns a confused tip of his head.

“That fast?”

Said (apparently female) cat rubbing her body along your calf with an obviously delighted purr, you appear nearly concussed, crouching down to pat the soft, striped fur lining her back.

Minho snorts.

“What can I say, I get work done.”

Maybe he is a vampire after all.

Mirroring your crouch, he watches your interaction, similarly feline-like inspection unnoticed till glancing up.

And for a swift moment, you swear he saw through you. Lips parted, eyes scrutinizing. Piecing together the building blocks to a wavering structure you’d strived so hard to build, to protect.

No. You’re overthinking. He couldn’t possibly know.

You failed to notice the forlorn look on his face, one that ushers to ask if you’re okay, fetch a hot beverage to warm your evidently cold hands.

“Might I ask how you ended up bringing this one home?”

Leave it to him to take the title as your greatest ally and worst enemy at the same time.

Ah. Right.

“Y’know I was about to get to that-” 

You pause, deriding the high pitch of your voice into something more appropriate. He cocks a brow.

“As I was saying, it wasn’t my intention to bring her back, but the place she was trapped at, the place with the men- the plants..”

According to his expression, you’ve grown two heads.

…

“Go on.”

“Look, the place I found the Chrysanthemum was having cat fights. Do you remember hearing about the dog fights in Gangwon? It’s the same thing. We can’t just sit still while they’re torturing innocent animals.”

“I don’t know what you got yourself into, but I’m an Alchemist, not a hero,” He sighs, and your hand stalls its petting, face falling while the cat in your lap flicks her tail back and forth expectantly.

He has a point. You got yourself into this, you went into the Greenhouse. It’s not his duty to clean up after your messes, but perhaps you can convince him, even by a small margin.

Play a fools game, earn a fools reward.

You’ll mop the floor of your own mess.

“Minho, please. Just this once and I won’t rope you into anything ever again, okay?” 

Stifling silence making an additional appearance, you nervously await the verdict, perched rather hilariously outside of your bedroom door.

Chewing the skin of his cheek, he scolds himself for falling so susceptible to you, though you won’t ever know that.

“Fine, but you’d better have a plan.”

Ah. Great.

You don’t.

At dawn’s arrival you’re swept upward, fixing a hasty bout of tea and toast prior to dressing in the privacy of your appreciated quarters. 

You don a much-needed hat, hopping aboard the first train of the day with a well-dressed Minho in tow.

Retracing your steps turns out easier than you anticipated, The Alchemist tailing you as you had done him at Port Nova.

Though, just when the task seemed a cake walk, you manage a meager detour, regarding your unimpressed mentor.

“From what I can remember, it’s around here somewhere. But I might be wrong, I stumbled upon it by accident and it looks a bit scary but I think—“

“Stop! Stop- Stop talking. Please.”

You quickly shut your mouth, allowing the man to lead instead till the sight of familiar landmarks becomes a gradual reassurance of your location.

Perhaps now it’s safe to talk.

“Mr. Lee, what did Reiner mean by calling you a champion-“

Shoved against the brick wall, your sentence dies instantly, panickedly glancing in all directions assessing the all too familiar pistol Minho‘s drawn, conspicuous in close proximity. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He enunciates, tone unusually gruff whilst scanning your surroundings.

Your face warms an involuntary pink you clamber to ward off, drawn to the sight of his tense jaw and the feather-like arrangement of long lashes, focused on something elsewhere.

Your retort dies not only from his beauty, but upon the familiar Greenhouse coming into view.

“Looks like we found where your little friends are playing.”

Though, as the man begins forward, you grab him by the sleeve.

“Wait! We can’t just waltz in.”

His hand, slipping from the warmth of his pocket, cups your chin, unbearably close to your face to the point you can feel his breath on your nose. 

Curse the butterflies.

“Well there’s no need for an introduction, so let’s listen this time, shall we?”

Left at a loss for words either from your slack mouth or the concerning amount of sweat building upon your palms, you don’t argue back, lingering right outside the door, craning to hear voices. 

By the sound of it, at least four people are inside at the moment, and the longer you stay out here, the more ample time becomes for additional threats to show up. 

As if reading your mind, he slips through the rugged door, gesturing for you to follow while silently navigating through dense, humid underbrush and overgrown foliage.

However, your quiet voyage is quelled when a twig, unbeknownst to the two of you, cracks under the pressure of his foot. 

“Shit,” He mutters, cringing back at the immediate quietness that ensued.

The Alchemist curses as well.

Interesting.

Amidst the men bearing closer, Minho turns to you, tone urgent. 

“When I get up, you run and free the cats. Don’t look back, just go.”

Nodding hastily, you reacquaint yourself with the area, ensuring a dead set beeline to where the cats were held without interruptions. 

Minho, a split second before you can ask a question, whips the gun from his coat pocket, the sound of bullets whipping through the air enough indication it’s time you go.

Finnicking hands make it hard to unscrew the wired cages, surges of adrenaline helping speed up the rescue as you double check every feline has escaped.

Heeding to instruction, you don’t look for The Alchemist, solely driven to freeing the cats and fleeing the scene. No more problems. 

Almost an exact replica to your last visit here, a hand drags you off right as you exit the Greenhouse doors, back pressed against his (whom you realized was Minho, not Hyunjin, thanks to the leather gloves) front. 

And perhaps from running, perhaps from something else, you can feel his heartbeat, oscillating in a nonstop orchestra that sends your own heart pounding from the confines of your rib cage. 

Stifling a shaky inhale you’d held in as the last of the perpetrators scattered elsewhere, you instantly step back, denying every urge to coddle him like a child, fretfully check him for injury. 

A certain fondness lay reserved for Lee Minho, a fondness you can’t discern of at the moment. 

“C’mon, quick, Soonie might get scared if we’re gone for too long,” He ushers, crashing your tunneling train of thought right off its rails in the process. 

“Yeah-“

You stop.

“Soonie?”

“Yeah, Soonie.”

“You named her?”

“..Yes.”

It’s a genuine struggle hiding your laugh.

“I didn’t find you the type to take in cats.”

“Today you’ve been proven wrong, apparently.”

A sort of giddiness you never experienced fills your chest, wishing nothing more than to look back at the man and swoon. 

How could you not? He was very much dexterous, and attractive without a doubt, that much was known to anyone who laid eyes on The Alchemist.  

Your trek home proved relatively easy, able to skillfully get to the station away from prying eyes and trod along a mixture of gravel and dusty roads without issue.

Silently celebrating your success, you nudge your counterpart's hip, the unimpressed side-eye he grants doing little to dull your happiness.

“Aren’t you an Alchemist? How come you’re oddly good with a gun?”

He clicks his tongue.

“Aren’t you my apprentice? How come you’re getting yourself into trouble when your only instruction was to fetch herbs?”

You conceal a smile he obviously catches, glare failing to quiet your bubbling laughter, his own lips tugging upward.

“It was necessary Mr. Lee! And you know you love Soonie.”

“Unfortunately.”

Nearly a month into her residence, and Soonie has become an effervescent force to be reckoned with. Although initially sassy and wary, she’s transformed into the most affectionate cat you’d ever met.

You have to give it to her, she’s grown on the both of you, a lot.

Plus, you might just have to thank her for unleashing Minho’s tender side, whether that’s the two of them cuddling on the couch while he naps or him picking her up and treating her like a baby while you watch from afar. 

Over the course of the five months you’ve been here, you’ve sent countless checks back home—enough to where dues could finally be paid and the hope for a good life came into view.

Everything seems right, seems ideal. 

But of course, on an equally ideal Thursday evening, a thousand pounds of bricks drops right on top of your head. 

“How long were you planning to keep it from me?” 

He, Lee Minho, The Alchemist, voices.

Simultaneously, your stomach plummets to your feet, peeking over your shoulder to find his back facing you, hunched over a straus flask. 

Then the bomb drops.

“You being a woman, that is.” 

Abruptly pausing, you don’t reply, worried you’d say the wrong thing, unintentionally summon the catalyst to this arising catastrophe. 

Yet, you can’t stay quiet for too long. And a fear lingered inside, a fear that if he looked at you, you would break.

“Forever.” 

Doing just what you dreaded, he turns to you, wearing a horribly serious expression. 

You avoid eye-contact. 

“Because you thought I would fire you?”

A nod. 

“And that’s why you said that, when you first came to me? That you weren’t a woman asking for a job?” 

Another nod. 

He sighs, pulling glasses from atop a hooked nose. You remain staring at the floor.

“I don’t decide who to hire based on what they are. If you can do your job and do it well, you’re worthy enough to work.”

Minho spoke softly, the dim, orange lighting of his lamplight doing little to shake how overwhelming the occasion is, how it feels as if your disguise is wearing, thinning to an impossible degree. 

Except, your world isn’t ending like you thought it would if someone found out, so why do you feel so heartbroken? So overstimulated with realization?

“How did you..” you trail off, raging tears longing to spill. 

No, you can’t afford to cry now. You’ve held out so far, it will stay that way. 

Should stay that way.

Minho dips his head lower in order to fully see you in all your lip-chewing, anxiety-ridden glory. The ghost of a smile rests upon his lips. 

“It was impossible not to tell. You’re unusually tiny, those shoes are massive, and, um, I do the laundry.” 

Watching his once bemused expression dissipate, you mark this as the first time you’ve ever seen him genuinely flustered—and, upon realizing he’d likely seen more than necessary as well, you’re also diminished to a bright red. 

The room wilts in stillness before he exhales, stepping a bit closer to where you linger by the bookshelf, your heels tapping against the frame. 

Tone minimizing itself terribly gentle, The Alchemist carefully collects your cheeks in his hands, urging you to see him, see those terribly thoughtful brown eyes granting a terribly kind disposition. 

“It’s been scary, hasn’t it?” 

Well, you had held out thus far.

Cracking into pieces, you melt like droplets of honey in his fingertips. He perfectly catches them in the jar. 

Out of anyone in this world, you can’t help but be grateful he was the one who found out, found you.

Chest bubbling with breaking sobs, Minho’s thumbs caress your under eyes, swiping away the many salty droplets in their continuous descent. 

Own hands shakily reaching up to hold his resting on your face, you stand there, soaking in his wooded, earthy scent and the soft hums he occasionally emits as if a reminder he’s still there, listening to your cries without intent to leave.

“Mr.. Mr. Lee… It was so scary, I’m so tired Mr. Lee,” You hiccup, mentally berating the endlessly freefalling tears, how your once staved emotions reduced your strong, dutiful voice into nothing but a stuttering mess.

Carefully swiping drool from your chin, he leans forward, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t know why you did it, but I promise it’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.”

Then another kiss to your forehead, staying there until your sniffling and breathing calms.

Gathering yourself if only slightly, you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him into a warm hug he gradually accepts after a beat of shock. 

“Thank you, Minho.” 

And just when he thought the shock faded, he’s struck again from the sound of his name leaving your mouth.

Minho. 

Mr. Lee had been charming, but Minho, it was different. A good kind of different. 

He particularly favored the way it sounded falling off your lips, two syllables he’d replay over and over, savoring each a little bit more than the last.

More so, he wished to substitute his nagging thoughts with you, have you narrate the phrases bouncing inside his skull.

Perhaps then everything wouldn’t be so loud, if he had your voice to nullify the battlefield.

Unfortunately forced to separate, Minho adjusts his tie, clearing his throat in a manner you can’t help but feel nervous about. 

You like this flustered Minho.

“I’ll.. I’ll run you a bath.” 

You wince at the rawness of your skin when your face wrinkles in a chuckle.

“Do I smell?” 

Minho, frantically scrambling for an excuse, rubs his temples, exasperation evident in the grooves of his face, the curve and dip of prominent cheekbones portraying a mature visage.

“No I-“ He grumbles. “It helps calm you down.” 

Merely able to halfway staunch your irrevocable glee, you call his name as he begins stepping out, ears an adorable pink.

“Y/N. My name is Y/N. L/N is my last name.”

Not allowing you view of his front-side, you listen to his whispering with delight, testing the newly discovered title on his tongue as if to memorize it.

Ah, you’re falling in love.

Or maybe you’ve already fallen.

Hastily closing the door behind himself and letting you get situated in the bath, it’s not long into your relaxing that you notice a shadow seeping through the door’s crack, a figure standing there, debating.

“Minho?” You announce amusedly, watching the shadow jump and causing you to bite your frothing laugh whilst choosing what to say next. 

“Would you like to join me?”

The Alchemist audibly chokes on his saliva outside the door. 

Sparing a few seconds for him to collect his oxygen, you hadn’t been prepared for when he replies a quiet: “Another time”.

Your eyebrows shoot up with surprise. 

Daring. 

Then his shadow, after furious shuffling, disappears, serving as a reminder of your extended time spent bathing. 

Assembling the copper drain and pulling foreign nightwear over dampened skin, opposed to your usual rush to your room, you allow the chilling air to grant its harsh greeting, leaving the steamy room in its wake.

No more secrets. What a breath of fresh air.

Minho, still cooped up at his desk like routine, barely moves when you place your hands on his shoulders, adorning those charismatic glasses, lips pursed thoughtfully.

“You should go get some rest Mr– Minho,” You beckon, response a sleepy blink of his eyes, obviously exhausted.

“...I really wanted to kiss you.”

The remark drifting off as a murmur, you crane to hear him, wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you. 

“Hm?” Humming, you lightly push his back toward his quarters, the man begrudgingly following your inaudible orders. 

At least he’s cooperating.

Abruptly, he turns around, evading your hands that ease his back forward, sporting a pout adorable enough you might just lose your mind.

How unfair that someone could behave like this and expect you to not go insane.

“When you started crying.” His eyes flicker to your lips, if only for a moment. “I really wanted to kiss you.”

A portion of your stock-still frame wants to blame his tiredness, but another so badly wants it to be true, wants those words to be irrevocably real.

Fighting the urge to scream with how stupidly childish he’s making you feel, you reject every ounce of sensibility, looping one arm around his neck, using your other hand’s index to tug him closer by the belt loop. 

Trust, the feeling is mutual.

Why waste the opportunity?

“What’s stopping you?” 

The utterance barely graces air, and in milliseconds he’s crashing into your lips, a wordless confession it is real, not a mere figment of your imagination.

Stumbling to loosen his tie whilst keeping your faces impossibly connected, you fall deeper and deeper into the manner he tilts his head, expertly diminishing you into puddy in his touch. 

Back and forth, memorizing your taste on his tongue. 

Clumsy footsteps lead to his sofa, your fingers tangled in his dark strands, his kneading your waist.  

And it’s not until your lungs cry for oxygen that you pull apart, Minho’s bottom lip tugged and bitten, yours swollen with his feverish kisses. 

Both of you avidly messy, you can’t bring yourself to care, too busy enjoying the afterglow, his dazed smile.

“Whoever you want to save,” He starts, carefully smoothing over your skin with his thumb . “I will save them, deal?”

Returning that same lazy smile he directs at you, the both of you lean back on the couch, a twine of legs and limbs flailing in every direction.

Close, closer. 

A part of you aches at the thought, blinking up at such a stunning tragedy. Aches knowing you can’t return the favor, can’t say the same, promise him that same promise. 

Because according to the Red Plague, he’s lost that person, those people. So you remain silent, merely hoping one day they’ll receive proper eternal rest. 

That's something you might be able to promise.

Tipping your chin up to where it sits right above his heart, those brilliant eyes of yours blinking up at him do little for his well-being. 

Has anyone told you you’re beautiful? Because he thinks you are, he knows you are. 

Just this once and I won’t rope you into anything ever again, okay?

Minho grins deeper, brows creasing, expression doused in unadulterated adoration. 

“And yet, you rope me into something else,” He whispers to himself. 

“What was that?”  

“Nothing, let’s run another bath. I’ll join you this time, hm?”

FIC TAGLIST. @linocz @foxinnie8 @wonniesverse

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[marymary-diva17]

When someone insult you

One way to cause tension and trouble for someone on Pandora will be by insulting one of their family members. As it will show, you disrespect someone you love and care about and think nothing bad will happen to them after saying hurtful words. These hurtful words can have any effect or consequences on anyone involved.

Jake x reader x Neytiri

evil demon women

It was a sunny and hot day you had taken the kids out for a swim near the water for some fun, and relaxation as there was no task for the day. Your spouse had been gone of the day so you were just with the kids today, but you are still enjoying your time with them. Some other families had arrived as it seems like, they all had the same idea as well.

tuk " mama can I have some fruit please I'm hungry"

y/n " sure sweetie" you had take out some fruit and cut in half give some to tuk, as she smiled and eat some of the fruit.

tuk " thank you mama" tuk soon hugged you before she ran off back towards the water.

navi women " look at her that dreamwalker has found a way to infect our clan"

navi women 2 " she acts all high and might just because she mates with neytiri and Jake sully"

navi wonen 3 " she just some evil demon women" you had become sue to everyone words and gossip towards you, as some of them hated the idea that you are with two heroes of the clan. At the moment you are avoid conflict as you didn't wish for any trouble with them.

????? " hey" a voice had been heard getting everyone attention, you soon looked up and saw your eldest son neteyam.

neteyam “ you will not speak to my mom in that behavior”

y/n “ neteyam”

neteyam “ no mama they are being rude and I … we won’t stand for it”

Kiri “ yes they are being rude mama and it should be addressed”

loak “ we not let anyone be rude to our family”

y/n “ kids”

Tuk “ mama says if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say it at all” the group of ladies looked taken back of what the kids had said to them. As you had stood there looking at them as the women seem to be regretting what they had said towards you.

y/n " come on kids lets go home right now we can spend the rest of the day together there"

neteyam " oh yes our dad and mom will be learning of this whole situation, lets hope to has a good outcome for you all"

y/n " come on neteyam"

neteyam " coming mom" the kids had soon walked home with you and you had embraced them into a group hug, proud of them standing up for family.

lo'ak " so are we in trouble"

y/n " no it all good no one is in trouble now come on lets get home, and maybe I can make a very sweet snack for my wonderful kids"

kids " yes" you and the kids had soon gone home as it soon started raining, the kids had been able to keep themselves entertained while you made them snacks. Later on in the day Jake and neytiri will find out the truth of what happened, and they were not happy Jake had to hold back neytiri. The ladies had been order to stay away from you until any other word given from your mates and you.

Jake x tsu'tey x reader x neytiri

Demon

It had started off a peaceful and good morning for you, as you had been working out of the humans bases. You are also enjoying the sun hitting you skin it seems like it was going to be a good day. Now there was only the wait for your kids and mates to get here, as they promised to come over and have morning meal with you.

y/n " they will be here soon should I make some juice for us or maybe pick some fruit ... it can do anything to help with some of the meal" you had decided to pick some fruit and make into juice for the family, as you were picking some fruit you were humming a song.

????? " what is that sound"

???? " I don't know but it coming from over there" you had soon heard movement coming towards you, and soon saw some navi from the clan.

y/n " good morning"

navi women " oh it just you"

y/n " yes it just me good morning as well let hope, the great mother blesses us with a good day"

navi man " she will not need blessing from a demon like you"

y/n " excuse me"

navi women " you heard us you and your demon kind have wormed your way into omadtikayaia clan and have ruined them, by become mates with them and having half navi children"

y/n " I know we have hard time getting along with other navi ...."

navi man " no matter what you do demon you will never be one of us and mostly the demon child you have as well"

y/n " we are not demons"

navi women " yes you are demon and we will make sure no more clan get effected by the likes of you" the demon soon had shoved you to the ground, she was about to grab you again.

???? " mama" tuk soon came running and soon held tight onto you, as the three other kids had came and started hissing at the two adults.

neteyam " how dare you touch my mother and hurt her"

lo'ak " you messed up big time never mess with a sully"

kiri " mama are you okay" kiri and tuk had helped you onto you feet as you soon look, at the two adults.

navi women " looked what we have here two sure born navi and two demon blooded kids"

y/n " you can insult me all your want but leave my kids out of this"

navi women " what are you going to do about demon" the women had hissed at you but she was not acting all pride, when she soon had been take to the floor.

neytiri " how dare you insult my wife and kids"

navi man " hey we were just teaching her and those demons a lesson" the man had soon been punched hard in the face by no other then Jake, and soon someone tossed him towards the women and that was Tsu’tey.

Jake " no you dare speaking to my wife like that ever again, or we will have more trouble here"

Tsu’tey " you two don't have any rights to come near y/n and our kids"

navi women " we were just voice how other feels"

neytiri " then your parents have failed you two on teaching you two to bid your manners, our y/n has done more then you will ever do"

Tsu’tey " no leave and stay out of straight and ear shot if we see you again near here, with our a good reason and causing trouble it will not be good for anyone" the pair had gotten up quickly and soon ran off leaving the family alone.

neytiri " ma y/n are you okay"

y/n " I'm fine neytiri no need to worry thank you all for standing up, for me it makes me feel good"

neytiri " if that women ever come back here again tell me and I will deal with her"

Jake " yes and I and Tsu’tey can deal with her buddy over there"

Tsu’tey " yes we will make them play"

y/n " thank you all but for now more violence at the moment, let go have some breakfast"

tuk " yeah we were able to save mama and now we get breakfast"

y/n " yes we do"

neytiri " we brought some stuff over to cook with as well"

y/n " good now come along" the group soon followed you home, the situation of this morning had soon speed the rest of the clan. it say no one was happy will be a understatement as, everyone was upset about the words that were spoken towards you and the clan. The duo had been made to say sorry by their clan leader and promised to keep their distance from the clan until notice,

Tonowari x reader x ronal

false navi

It a good day in the village a very funny and warm day and the clan was going on with their day. The same could be said about you and the kids, as you are with them near the shoreline collect materials while the kids goofed off here and there. Making you laugh as you had looked at them being kids and making sure to have fun today.

rotox " ahh aonung no fair" aonung and shoved his brother into the water soon, gaining your attention as you look at the two boys.

aonung " oh come on I'm just playing around"

tsireya " you two are so childish" the two boys soon looked at each other and soon smirked, when they looked to their sister and before trsireya could do anything. They had tackled her into the water getting a scream from her and laughs from her brother.

tsireya " hey"

rotxo " oh come on baby sister you should of seen that coming" tsireya soon started a water fight with her brother as you stood there laugh and looking at them.

kids " mama"

y/n " be nice all three of you and not hurting each other please"

kids " yes mama" the kids had went deeper into the water having their battles still going on, as you stood there watching them. You had been standing there for a while before you had waked off.

navi women "excuse me y/n"

y/n " hello how may I help you ladies"

navi women 2 " well us and some of the clan were wondering if you are true navi or false navi"

y/n " excuse me"

navi women 3 " yes after ing the olo'eythan you have failed time to time again, to have a kids with him while ronal has three kids ... are we sure you are actually navi or just some unwanted child the great mother gave your childish parents"

y/n " that is none of your business the great mother will bless me with a child, when the time right"

navi women 4 " are we sure because if you are false navi maybe it time, to have someone become the perfect mate and perfect navi to our clan"

navi women " you have these kids call you mama when you are no a mom to them"

y/n " I will not waste me time with you all anymore good day" you were about to walk away from the women, when big splash of water, had hit the women.

navi female " ahh"

navi women " who did that"

????? " it was me" the group of women and you had looked and saw it was aonung on his IIu.

Aonung " how dare you insult my mother like that"

navi women " mind your manners young man"

aonung " you should mind your manners when you are speaking to my mother, a very import women in the clan"

navi women 2 " we are speaking to her that all"

rotxo " you are being rude toward her and we heard everything you had said"

tisreya " yes and we will make sure to tell our parents about what you said, I wonder what they will think about how you all acted" a crowd had form due to all the fighting that was going on right now.

y/n " kids"

tsireya " you will start showing our mom respect"

???? " what going on here" tonowari and ronal soon had arrived, they soon walked towards you and the kids.

ronal " ma y/n and children what has happened"

aonung " these women were insulting mama mom they called her a false navi"

ronal " false navi"

aonung " yes they said she was a false navi because she failed to give father a child"

ronal " you dare insult my wife like that"

navi women " we had been speaking what is true she has failed to have a child with the olo'eythan"

tonowaro " how dare you speak to y/n like that after everything she has done for the clan, you all make me sick and not only insulting her you insult my whole family"

ronal " my family as well" ronal had gotten closer to the women and hissed at them, making them step back from her as ronal was very mad and so is tonowari.

tonowari " ma y/n are you okay"

y/n " I'm good now"

ronal " you are hear by not allowed to come near her or the children until I and tonowari deem to far enough, and your words and actions today might reflect your families and mates as well"

navi wonen 3 " wait no please"

tonowari " enough the tshaik has spoken I will decide on the offers I was going to give your mates, but for now leave before you all do anything else ... if anyone thinks the same speak now so we can deal with you all" no one dare to speak right now as it bad idea, the women had been escorted away getting glares some everyone else. Your mates and kids had taken you home as they comfort you about the whole matter.

tonowari " dont pay them any mind ma y/n you are the perfect mate, perfect mom, and perfect navi"

ronal " yes and one day you will be blessed with a kid"

y/n " yes I know the day will come"

tsireya " we love you mama"

y/n " thank you kids and my wonderful mates" the family had spent the rest of the day together, having a good time along with making sure you are okay as well. Tonowari and ronal had made sure the group of women stayed far away from you, and the kids their mates had apologized to you and were able not to be affected of what happened that day. You knew the day will come when you will be blessed with the another child in your life and family.

[astariontopofme]

Hi! I loved your Astarion fic very much!! You really captured him very well! :D I would love to request a fic where Tav/Reader invites Astarion to watch the sunset with them and just have a sweet time together without obligation of anything more. Thank you! ❤️

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐬 🌞 (Astarion x GN!MC)

A/N: I took this prompt and ran too far with a bit of angst, I apologise. There’s still fluff I promise! Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2.3k

___

Alone and miserable was exactly how Astarion intended to spend his evening.

He was growing a little tired of these long days ending in disappointment. They had been on the receiving end of some particularly brutal attacks that afternoon, each one adding to the ever lengthening delay on their mission to find a cure for their tadpoles.

It seemed there wasn’t an end in sight, their days repeatedly starting and finishing the same way. The worst part about it for him was his confliction when it came to the matter at hand. One minute he was determined and dead set on finding someone or something that could remove the tadpole, and the next minute he was absorbed by the actuality that the tadpole had given him the happiest moments of his prolonged life.

One of those moments being the warmth of the sun on his cold skin.

He couldn’t imagine being stripped of such luxury again, locked in the shadows until the harshly cold moon replaced the flourishing gold beams that it blessed upon the world. The very thought left him in a slight state of panic if ever he dwelled on it long enough. Everyone else was yearning for the solution to their infections, which was fair. It hadn’t brought anyone but himself any joy, just a disruption to their lives.

Which was why these thoughts were always kept to himself. He didn’t want to hear about how ‘everything would be okay’ or the irritating default ‘cheer up’ phrases. It wasn’t as simple as just seeing the bright side of ridding himself of the tadpole. Sure, it would eliminate the chances of being turned into something he didn’t want to become, but removing it would turn him back into his old self, something else he didn’t want to be.

The very thought of avoiding the daylight made him feel ill. He hadn’t expected to be so attached to it when he first realised the warmth on his skin wasn’t cooking him alive. Two hundred years of darkness was what he had no choice but to be used to. He knows how to live out his life that way, but he didn’t want to.

He just wanted to be free.

So as he could hear the rest of the camp making their attempts at cheering each other up, Astarion sat in his lonely little tent, slowly waving his hand in the strip of honey-like light that had invited itself in through the gap of the tent’s entrance. He almost wanted it to start burning him, just to prepare him for his impending intolerance to the beauty cascading a rich bronze hue across his deathly pale skin.

Judging by the deep shade of the soothing beam, the sun was beginning its daily journey to another part of the world. The nights were always a little difficult when he got in his head like this. Every glance at the stars shimmering in contrast to the ebony sky made him wonder if that had been his last day in the warmth before someone excitedly presented him with a cure he only half wanted.

Just as he felt himself starting to spiral uncontrollably, his tent was suddenly deprived of its sliver of warm light. Before he could tell whoever had come to bother him to leave him alone, a familiarly soft yet strong hand clasped itself around his, tugging him out of his solitary as his knees crashed into the hard ground. He was ready to start shouting at whoever had the sheer audacity to pull him around like that, but as he looked up from his knees he was met with a contagiously joyous smile.

Whatever Tav was so happy about must not have reached the others, most of them sitting around the start of a fire and barely looking any happier than he felt. The misplaced display of glee was almost irritating him, but the irritation was fizzling out quickly, as it always seemed to do with his partner.

Gods he was getting soft.

Doing his best to be stern after being so unexpectedly manhandled, he put on his best frown. “What on earth was that for?!”

Still, the look of delight before him did not falter. If anything they looked even more pleased that he was in a bad mood.

The same hand that had kidnapped him from the confines of his tent reached out to help him up. Being the ever so petty man that he could proudly be, Astarion completely ignored it and dragged himself up to his feet, being sure to scoff as he brushed the dirt from his knees.

“Come on,” his over excited companion commanded.

Astarion raised an eyebrow at them. “Come on, what?”

Before his tongue had even hit the roof of his mouth to exaggerate the T at the end of what, he watched his partner turn around quickly, darting off into the woods surrounding the camp.

Although their actions hadn’t exerted any will within him to now go and spend time with them, he wasn’t prepared to let them scurry off into the woods alone before it got dark. He quickly grabbed a small dagger from a stool outside his tent and hastily set forth to catch up to them. Sure, he was a little pissed, but he was too protective of them to retreat back into his tent and stew in his misery.

It didn’t take him long to catch up, despite how quickly his partner was speed walking through the trees. Wherever they were going, they were clearly in some kind of hurry.

“Will you slow down,” Astarion hissed. “Where in the hells are you going?!”

Tav simply continued without a word, stopping very suddenly at the edge of the forest. There was quite a drop only a few feet in front of them, and Astarion found himself automatically reaching out to grab the back of his partner's top, despite the fact that they had already come to a halt.

“I knew this would be the perfect place,” Tav exclaimed with an accomplished grin.

Astarion couldn’t help but hope that this wasn’t what he thought it was. He wasn’t entirely in the mood to try and be interested in sex right at this very moment in time, nor was it the most comfortable looking place for it.

“Look, I enjoy your body a great deal, but I’m not really-”

Tav’s gaze shot straight up to him, the smile dropping from their face. “I…I didn’t bring you here for sex, Astarion,” they explained innocently. “You know that’s not all I want from you…don’t you?”

Astarion didn’t know how to answer this. He had spent so much of his life being used to lure people to their doom with sex that he still couldn’t decipher between being appreciated and being used. It was a difficult area in their new relationship that they both knew would take time and plenty of reassurance. He trusted his partner a great deal, more than he had ever been able to trust a person before in his life.

After a few awkwardly silent minutes went by, Tav cut the tension by pointing out towards a body of water in the distance. “I wanted you to watch with me,” they murmured quietly, crossing one leg over the other to sit on the hard ground.

Astarion watched as the deeply orange sun was slowly approaching the water, reflecting itself on the surface like fire dancing over ice. It was a rather breathtaking sight, one that forced his legs to follow the same crossing motion to sit beside his partner and bask in such a beautiful sight.

Despite the earlier downward spiral into his fear of sun deprivation, he had never felt so soothed and relaxed by such simplicity. He hadn’t yet watched a sunset, which was usually down to missing it whilst journeying back to camp. The brightest star in the sky was sinking away, emanating a golden sheet across everything that surrounded them. It was almost hypnotic just how fascinating the sight truly was.

Any resentment he had for being dragged out of his tent against his will had dissolved almost instantly. This relationship thing was still all very new to him, and his biggest obstacle was understanding, which was difficult as there were so many things he just didn’t understand. The main one being Tav’s interest in him.

Even he couldn’t deny that he could be a bit of a negative bastard at the best of times, and yet this ridiculously patient person he found himself to be enamoured with wanted to share such a beautiful and intimate moment with him without the obligation of intercourse. They really did care about him.

But for how long?

If they were to eventually find a cure, Astarion was almost certain that he’d lose something far more valuable to him than the sun. Why would such a bright soul want to spend the rest of their life with him in the shadows?

He tore his gaze away from the descending sun to glance at his partner, only to find them already looking at him.

“Isn’t it lovely,” they whispered quietly, as if raising their voice would scare the beauty away.

Astarion swallowed a hard lump in his throat, not knowing how to answer that question. It was lovely, but he wasn’t just thinking that of the sunset.

Before he could catch his tongue, he blurted out a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “Are you going to leave?”

Once again, Tav’s content smile faded into a small and confused frown. “Leave? Leave what?”

He could hear his conscience shouting at him to just shut up and quit being so pathetic, but his mouth seemed to overrule it. He needed some sense of security.

“Me.”

The hurt look on the face that had recently become his favourite caused his cold heart to squeeze in his chest. He didn’t want to come across so accusingly, but he wasn’t exactly accustomed to loyalty. Nobody had cared for him the way they did, yet as much as he was afraid that they would eventually grow tired of him, he wouldn’t ever be surprised if they did as he just didn’t expect much from people.

Judging by the sudden sadness in those fascinating eyes, Tav hadn’t actually thought about it in the way he had. “You think I’m going to leave you when you can no longer walk in the sun,” they questioned, though it came out as more of a statement.

Astarion didn’t verbally respond, but the way his body tensed up at the thought was enough of an answer for his partner. Tav shuffled over a little, sitting closer to him and placing a comforting hand on his leg. Their piercing stare bored into him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet their eyes with his.

Still, Tav spoke so softly that it almost made Astarion uncomfortable. “If I had plans to leave you after these tadpoles are gone, then I wouldn’t have bothered with you in the first place. I know what you are, Astarion. I know what comes with being a vampire. That’s not going to change how I feel about you.”

He couldn’t suppress the frustrated sigh that escaped him. “That’s easy for you to say now,” he said, surprisingly calm. “But when you’re confined to the darkness-”

“I’ll still love you.”

It was the first use of the word between the couple. A word Astarion didn’t have a lot of experience with, which was why he couldn’t decipher between whether the feeling in his chest when he heard the intimidating word was a reciprocating feeling of love or whether he was dying on the spot. His eyes snapped back to his partner, but they were now staring off towards the water again, watching as the sun disappeared into the horizon and took its warmth with it.

Yet he still felt warmth. It was growing almost painfully in his chest as his heart thumped at an alarming rate. Any time he had heard someone explain what love felt like, the word warmth had almost always come up.

“The sun’s gone,” Tav whispered quietly, taking his hand. “And I don’t feel any differently. I mean it, Astarion. I love you.”

Astarion’s whole mouth felt like cotton. He did love them, he could physically feel it within him. But he was afraid that the words could not form yet. Sure, he’d falsely told people he loved them for manipulation purposes, but real love was a huge step for him, and he felt he needed to truly understand its meaning before he could declare such a thing back.

“You don’t need to say anything,” his partner reassured him softly, picking up on his dilemma.

He swallowed hard. “It’s not that I don’t-”

“I know.”

Their eyes finally met, something different presenting itself between them. It felt as though their relationship had taken on a new meaning, one that slightly soothed that voice in his head telling him he was going to end up alone when their mission was over. He just couldn’t believe he had found such a remarkable soul in such a strange and life threatening situation.

Though he couldn’t use the word love just yet, he couldn’t let this moment end with his silence. He knew that he could feel it, and he needed them to know that.

“I’ve always heard the phrase that home is where the heart is…and I never really understood it before now,” he began to conclude. “Nothing ever felt like home to me. Not Baldur’s Gate, and certainly not Cazador’s palace.”

He reached his free hand up to cup Tav’s cheek, his thumb absentmindedly brushing across their slightly blushed skin as they melted into his touch.

“But you…I have a home in you.”

.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this fic! This is my first time writing with a gender neutral character so please be kind if I’ve made any mistakes!

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬 (𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 & 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐅𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1K

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: Think about it. Write about it. Have hard thoughts. Do not take it seriously. None of this information is confirmed and all theoretical. If you want to read more, I have further analysis in my 'Lee Know As Your Late Bloomer Bf' post.

ᴍᴇᴛʜᴏᴅᴏʟᴏɢʏ: Traditional Astrology & Whole Sign

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ:

Rising is in Gemini (Suspected)

Scorpio Sun (6th House)

Sagittarius Moon (7th House)

Scorpio Mercury (6th House)

Scorpio Venus (6th House)

Virgo Mars (4th House)

ꜰᴜᴄᴋʙᴏɪ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ:

3/10

Lee Know's fuckboi radar is a strong medium energy because his Sagittarius Moon makes him naturally impulsive and prone to boredom but his Scorpio stellium indicates he values a deep soul to soul connection.

So while he can detach sex and feelings, casual/one night stands wouldn't satisfy him and he's more likely to enter into FWB/situationships.

He also forms attachment easily, although you wouldn't know it because he can mask very...VERY well.

His Virgo Mars in 4th House also makes him pedantic with hygiene, he COULD...could view anonymous/casual encounters as 'dirty' or 'unclean' and have concern about infection and/or disease.

(No..I'm not personally judging hook-up culture but I included this because Virgo/6th House rules over health and wellness so they prioritise sexual hygiene more so than other Mars Signs.)

And there's loads of evidence with the SKZ episodes of Lee Know valuing cleanliness and tidiness so I'm certain that would transfer to sex and foreplay.

ʀᴇᴅ & ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ꜰʟᴀɢꜱ:

Red:

His Scorpio Mercury gives him a wicked tongue and his Sagittarius Moon means he has no impulse control which =

PETTINESS!!!

His Mercury rulership indicates he's thoroughly observant, analytical and has a great memory, the type to remember little details about something that happened 11 months ago.

He's learnt your sore spots, your insecurities and your anxieties and he might just use them against you in moments of conflict.

Inherently stubborn so wouldn't be the type to apologise after an argument but would make you a meal, buy you something, run you a bath as a way of calling truce.

He probably has an avoidant-attachment style and is the type to 'freeze' or ice you out if he's annoyed or irritated...could even go as far as giving the 'silent treatment' as a way of asserting control.

When Lee Know has been recorded feeling hurt, upset or frustrated he becomes really quiet and his posture shifts into a more defensive stance...this is really evident in the infamous SKZ Room episode where Chris says 'you don't care about me' and you can literally SEE his entire body change at that remark.

Green:

Honesty is a strong value and trait of Lee Know so outside of conflict...you would never feel like he's hiding something from you or second-guessing his actions...what you see is what you get with Lee Know- even to a fault.

A good example of this was Lee Know's ending-ment and he says 'I have been having a lot of thoughts and I'm organising my feelings' (which is so Mercury coded to rationalise your feelings by 'organising' them).

Routine, stability and consistency are HUGE traits and values that Lee Know will contribute to the relationship and this is reaffirmed countless of times with his Bubble messages.

He always sends you a 'morning' message and asks if you've eaten lunch or dinner every day, he's consistent at going live on YouTube every Saturday and he's endlessly sending through photos of food and his cats on Bubble which means Lee Know is not a man prone to 'flakiness'- it's all or nothing for Lee Know and he will stick with you through to the end.

And this is not even natal chart based, this is just my opinion- there is something about Lee Know's personality that is incredibly wholesome for a man his age...in his spare time he likes night-time walks and plays with his cats which to me is someone who enjoys the little things in life and a lavish and excessive lifestyle is not a priority for him.

He's not shallow and therefore he's not going to give you a shallow relationship.

ɪᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴛʏᴘᴇ…ɪꜰ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ

Lee Know's sexual orientation is unknown so I don't know if he's into women but if he is...these are the physical and personality traits he would find attractive.

Physical Traits

(Focus on his Libra 5th House, Scorpio Venus and Virgo Mars)

Has to smell nice because Virgo & Scorpio are sensory motivated and would SIMP over a person with a signature scent...probably would like a floral and clean, fresh smell.

Scorpio's go for other Scorpio's so his ideal type probably would have Scorpio placements (Sun,Rising or Venus) and have a dark feminine aesthetic but still kinda coquetteish with the Libra influence.

Someone who has the duality of looking sexy in a black, skimpy dress with stiletto heels but also looks cute wearing an oversized t-shirt with no make-up and a messy bun.

Definitely a waist,arse and thighs kind of man is totally the type to get hot and heavy if you wear a sundress.

Personality Traits

A tsundere to the absolute max, you cannot get more tsundere than Lee Know so his partner has to be okay with his 'quiet love' style of showing affection and care.

Intelligence is a strong turn-on for Lee Know so his partner has to be smart and worldly, would be attracted to someone who has a degree or a type of tertiary education.

Lee Know was accepted into university for computer programming prior to graduating high school so he could find people with careers in STEM, engineering, environment, sociology etc quite alluring and attractive.

Preferable love languages to be acts of service, gifts and quality time...words of affirmation and physical touch are not a strong suit of his.

ᴅᴏᴍ, ꜱᴜʙ ᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪᴛᴄʜ?

Lee Know is a switch with a heavy dominant preference and would prefer to be dominant 80% of the time.

I think even if he was in a more submissive mood...it would be more 'I'm yours and you can do whatever you want' energy rather than a complete release of control.

6th House Stellium= service/pleasure dom preference

Lee Know in-person has a very gentle and stoic presence (I've seen him live) and that would transfer to the bedroom so a SOFT DOM and much more soft and tender than the aggressively harsh sadistic dom persona Stays give him.

Whilst Lee Know can and likes being 'rough' in the bedroom, there is a difference in being rough and painful versus rough passionate.

Lee Know wouldn't be into the rough and painful 'you're just a hole for me to fuck' degrading type of sex.

Lee Know would be into the rough and passionate 'how many times can we go before we fall unconscious' type of sex.

There's a difference.

ᴋ!ɴᴋꜱ...ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ

Olfactophilia

The scent kink is WILDIN with this man and would be addicted by your natural scent and smell. Scorpio placements are primal in general and is the type to lick the sweat when making love and for his cock to ache as he inhales the sweet scent of your panties.

I can't get enough of your sweet pussy kitten, could bury my face here all day.

Would smell your shirt after wearing it at the gym as he doing laundry because you're his favourite fragrance.

If Lee Know didn't see you for a few days, he would spray your perfume on his clothes and wear your scented body lotion because the smell carries the very essence of who you are, who he loves, who he yearns for.

Clothed Sex

Buttons ripped, stockings torn, skirt tattered at the seam, smeared lipstick, heels on, the desperation and the need to fuck you so badly that he doesn't have the patience to take your clothes off.

That would drive Lee Know insane with desire.

Bend over kitten...fuck your legs look so good in these heels...I can't wait, need to feel how tight you are now.

Bonus points if you allow him to take photos of your ruined state afterwards.

Also...

You being naked whilst Lee Know is entirely clothed and the power imbalance and the DOMINANCE he would feel in that moment of you just being so submissive and vulnerable and trusting under his hands and body...

Taglist: @hipster-shiz @creativechaoticloner @cherry-0420 @scuzmunkie @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @junieshohoho @mrcarrots @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @craxy-person @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @shinestarhwaa @hexheathen @northerngalxy @michel-angelhoe @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @justaaveragereader @shroomoth @marykpoppin @joonyoonjinnie @ja3hwa @leomggg

[ki-kosmo]

Me: Ok it’s time to work on something productive!!

My brain: ok but what if we didn’t do that actually *develops crossover and writes a spin-off AU with details down to the mechanics of each animatronic*

Anyway what if Mystery Skulls DCA crossover?

Close-ups and more info under the cut bc I’m brainrotting real hard about this:

So with this crossover (AU??) the story is mostly the same as the Mystery Skulls animated series, but with a few changes.

The gang all worked together in theater production; Sun and Moon were performers just like in canon SB, while Y/N and mini djmm were behind the scenes, doing tech, organizing events, etc. However, the crew also loved to go exploring, and Y/N, being heavily interested in the paranormal, usually led “investigations” into haunted locations. This was all for funsies and frankly, the boys just had fun going out and observing.

One night they go to an abandoned cave and get separated, and due to a… malfunction… in Sunny’s arm, he pushes Moon off a nearby cliff, tearing the poor bot to shreds. But! Whatever force that amplified the glitch in Sun also allowed for Moon’s will to stay alive and wrath to seek revenge on sun to strengthen, and eventually revive his sentient ai, piecing himself back together as best he can, with the rest of him materializing into a new body. Eventually, Djmm finds Sun and rips his infected arm from his socket, which brings Sun back to reality.

Sun doesn’t remember any of this except for Djmm tearing his arm away, and Y/N barely remembers Moon at all. In fact, all they know is Sun had a theater partner once, but one day they just vanished. Sun… doesn’t like to talk about it. He grows depressed, long after he gets repaired, and soon after stops performing to look for Moon full-time.

When he realized Y/N didn’t remember anything, he was conflicted. Confused. But once he realized he couldn’t seem to jog their memory, he kind of kept the events a secret from them. Not for his sake, no, but because he knew Y/N would blame themselves if they ever found out one of their silly escapades resulted in the death of someone so dear to them all.

Also for those interested, yes I designed Djmm with Mystery’s transformation in mind, here are some chicken scratch sketches I saved while I was figuring out their look:

If you read this far I’m giving you a big ol’ smooch on the forehead and a cookie 🍪💕

[istoleyoursk1n]

Hello there! I’ve seen your stuff and it’s very good! I have one for the main crew with a Dhampire!Tav. That’s essentially a half vampire born from a mother infected with vampirism and they have all the benefits of being a vampire with no, minus the thirst for blood that’s more a craving and provides a power boost, negatives. Tav tries to abstain from blood as much as possible, but does give in for emergencies.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a Dhampir!Tav

.

.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Ugh. Just so you know, there can only be one. And it doesn't take much to see who’s the better vampire, darling. You best not go snacking on the delights I've claimed for myself.”

You’d think he’d be relieved but he's more so irritated by your presence at first. You’re quite literally everything he wished he was, something that makes him envy you.

You don't have to constantly satiate your thirst for blood and you can walk in the sun! Sure, he can do so now, but that's only because of the squirming little parasite in his head.

However, over time, he’d get over his bitterness, realizing that perhaps he cared for you more than he initially thought.

Sure, you have advantages he only dreamed of obtaining himself but having another vampire by his side did prove to have its own perks. All so suddenly you are both drinking goblets of blood in place of wine, dancing in the glow of the luminous moonlight as the nocturnes you are.

He's a horrible influence because there's no doubt he made you indulge in your blood cravings more than you ever used to.

Though, he’d have it no other way. He does quite enjoy the sound of a vampiric power couple racing through the night, it appeals to every fanatical dark dream he's ever had and it makes it all the more special.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“To see not one but two fanged companions join us on our little adventure? Well, I can't quite tell if I should be relieved or tense. Regardless, it's a pleasure to have you.”

It was conflicting enough to have one vampire in camp but two? His job was to slay monsters but you don't seem to be posing a threat at all. Less of a threat than Astarion at least.

He very quickly moves past his whole ‘but aren't I meant to kill monsters?’ conflict in favor of befriending such a compelling companion, one he finds himself growing quite fond of.

And there was just something so incredibly romantic of being a monster hunter himself and falling for a creature of the night (and sun at this point).

As corny as it sounds, he’d been dreaming up that fantasy for a while now, finding himself going out of his way to woo and win over a vampire's undead heart.

One blissful dance by the lake against the twinkling stars of night, hands interlocked, and the sudden burn of piercing fangs caressing his skin only for his own soft kiss to follow—romance and its finest.

All so suddenly he's fallen head over heels for the same type of beasts he's sworn to rid of, though you are no beast in his eyes, more of an angel whose sharpened teeth could be nothing more than a sweet blessing in disguise.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“The more the merrier I suppose. You never know when one needs four sets of fangs in the journey ahead. Perhaps, you could talk sense into another particularly bloodthirsty friend of ours, hm?”

And then there were two.

He didn't quite trust you around him at first, you were still a vampire, and frankly after the Astarion encounter, he’d rather not be bled out dry.

Over time, he’d grow curious. It's not every day he encounters a dhampir out and about. He’s read about them of course but studying an actual dhampir was a whole different story.

He would often compare you to the books he’s read about your kind to the actual information you provide him, noting that once the whole absolute mess is over, he’d gladly rewrite the dhampir section of his book collections.

Eventually, the fact that you're a dhampir would easily go over his head. He can't see you as anything else except for the companion he's grown to be incredibly fond of.

Perhaps he’d try to find other ways to satiate your blood cravings if he's ever reminded of them, doing his own little research as to what the best substitute could be. It's more so for convenience so he wouldn't have to witness another chicken being drained raw.

Other than that, he's completely contented with you, fangs included. There is no other he could have chosen to have endured this treacherous journey with.

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

“Fucking hell! Another vampire?! Well, shit, I must be pretty damn lucky or something. Between you and me, I think it's great to have another fanged friend join us, you have got to meet Astarion!”

She gets excited over the fact that you're a dhampir for about a day before it goes over her head.

She's seen far more threatening things than a human half-vampire to ever feel the slightest bit of intimidation at your presence.

Besides, if you ever do try biting her, good luck handling blood as hot as the flames of Avernus. That’ll give her a good laugh.

She has a lovely little thing for nicknames and if she gets to call Astarion ‘Fangs’ you’re being called ‘Fangers’. Cheesy, but it makes her all the more happy.

And if the need for blood ever arises, fret not, she would gladly beat the shit out of some bastard goblin for you to snack on (if you don't mind the taste of goblin blood of course.)

Overall, the fact that you’re slightly vampiric never bothered her at all. You’re the best thing that's ever happened to her and she wouldn't mind no matter what form you took.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

“It seems that another vampiric acquaintance joins this strange little party of ours. I suppose finding ways to satiate another vampire’s odd diet wouldn't be too much of a hassle with all the dead goblins lying around. Enjoy the meal.”

She was a bit apprehensive at first. She was already a little put off by Astarion being a vampire, she didn't quite trust herself bearing her neck around that man and now there's you.

You’d have to slowly build some trust in her if she were to ever let her guard around you, of course, there are the playful jabs here and there but she seems mostly impartial with your presence for now.

Her weariness fades soon enough, it's not as though your blood cravings are bad enough for you to turn to your own companions for a taste. She’s only ever seen you feast on animals.

Over time, she’d grow contented with your presence, hardly ever pointing out your own vampiric features as you seem quite normal for the most part.

Your advanced healing at least gives her a break from having to constantly use her healing spells so she's at least grateful for that.

She truly doesn't have any qualms about you now that she fully understands your capabilities and who you are as an individual. You are a lovely companion to have and it's fairly nice having you by her side.

: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL

“Chk. Best you keep your thirst for blood on our foes lest I pull out your sharpened fangs from your gnawing mouth. I will not have you or anyone come to draw blood from my own skin.”

As long as you don't intend on placing her fangs anywhere near her, she doesn't care.

She’ll base her opinion on you depending on what use you could provide to her, and seeing as you are essentially a vampire without all the negative effects that come from being one, that's perfect!

You are quite effective in and out of battle, an admirable trait she has directly told you on a handful of occasions.

It's rather flattering to hear ‘compliments’ or more so tactical observations come out of her mouth from time to time but she does seem quite impressed by your abilities.

Even the part of you that craves blood is one she doesn't quite mind as long as you aren't senselessly draining out the blood of every creature you pass.

If you two do grow close, she does actually hunt animals for you, bringing them back to you as ‘tokens of appreciation’ so you’d have something to snack on (She doesn't want to show it but seeing you indulge makes her happy).

At the end of the day, she truly sees you as a worthy companion to travel alongside her. A companion she wishes to treasure and travel with for as long as time allows her.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“How lucky am I to have lived long enough to witness vampires having the capacity to walk in the sun? Truly such a special gift to have especially for someone like you. Perhaps one day all of your kin could have the chance to see the sun again.”

The least concerned out of all of them.

He’s lived long enough to understand whether or not you could possibly pose a threat and honestly? You don't even seem intimidating enough to phase him.

The only thing he's actually upset about is the fact that you have to kill precious creatures of nature to satiate your occasional cravings for blood.

He wished there were other alternatives, and honestly, he’d rather see you snack on a goblin than the poor critters living in the forest. Though, he does understand how foul the taste of goblin must be.

At some point, he probably would have offered himself as a substitute for your blood cravings. Better him than the animals. Though, you couldn't quite tell if he was nervous or excited about the prospect of you biting into him.

It turned out to be both when you first tried, and now it's become quite a normal thing for you two. Halsin doesn't seem to mind and you get to have a free snack from time to time.

Besides, there's something about your fangs that makes his own heart beat a tad bit faster than usual. A detail you don't miss at all and something he's very much aware of.

He trusts you enough to not drain him, and regardless, he treasures you as a companion. What you are could never stop him from being as close to you as he is now.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[brother-emperors]

When you talk about Philippino history and then Roman history, as a Venezuelan it's been making me think about our history and like, I've always thought there's a lot of similarity there but now it's like...its so similar. Your house is haunted too! I always think about how we won wars against the colonizers but their ghosts are still there, and they still sit at the dinner table with us every night. Your work is so cool, I feel like I can extend that train of thought further through time. I've never been interested in Rome but now I kinda am!

Venezuela 🤝the Philippines: being haunted houses (colonized by Spain)

also that is so SO real, the ghosts really are with us!! THEY ARE AT!!! OUR DINNER TABLES!!!!! ngl, once you start noticing it, it's impossible to NOT notice how they've crawled into the spaces and just. stayed.

ancient Rome is so weird for it too, because if you asked me about it, I wouldn't immediately put ancient Rome down for haunting the Philippines, except for the fact that like Catholicism, it's fucking everywhere. it's gotten in the cracks and spaces between the walls. On the stage of theater, Nadres' Hanggang dito na lamang at maraming salamat: the main character is named after Julius Caesar

Closet Queeries, J. Niel C. Garcia

and so many people are named after figures from ancient Rome (I know enough Mark Anthonys I've run out of differentiating nicknames for everyone) that it rivals Catholic saints for naming conventions. neo classical architecture had it's moment in the sun in Manila, our ilustrados brought some of it back when they returned from Spain to call for reform, and then independence, and I am struggling to hold back a plague-infection comparison about that. like, something else crept in with Spain, and like Spain's ghosts, it Did Not Leave.

but on the other hand! there's a long, centuries long, tradition of using the events of the Fall of the Republic to discourse, discuss, to vent or call for action, current events. it provides a interlocutor when something hurts too much to say directly, it provides a stage to explore a tragedy that echoes in our own histories, it gives a script to voice an ideal that a government might otherwise put down. how many centuries have we used Brutus (and Cassius) to rail against Tyranny, and how many centuries with equal enthusiasm have people used Julius Caesar as a martyr to justify the rights of Kings and Empires? these things are equally as important (in a different way) from the ancient events that actually transpired. (this specific topic, of Brutus & the Assassination of Caesar and it's literary revivals in history, are the focus of The Brutus Revival, Manfredi Piccolomini)

and the cores of these things conflict with each other, but in that friction, it's like there's an invitation to sit down and think for a minute. to look back at history and feel it's immediacy in the present.

ANYWAY I got carried away, but I am glad!! that my stuff could make Rome interesting!!! I hope that you find new doors of thoughts to explore!!!!!!!

[ohno-the-sun]

23 year old artist

Likes science and art

Draws some pretty things, some scary things, likes blood and gore so be warned

My main is @weird-one-23 so if ya see that blog pop up randomly that’s me pfpfpt

Directional stuff below

Also I don’t do tag games, I appreciate the tags very much but they used to make me go on depressive spirals so I try to avoid them nowadays (though know everytime I am very tempted to respond pftftft)

Tags

My art : all of my art (hopefully)

Thoughts: random thoughts

My writing : my writing

AUs

Mad scientist au : adopted from @/oobbbear, Sun is a mad scientist and moon is his creation. Also Moon infects Sun. Tw for body horror and eye gore for this au

Luca Au: Mermaid au, Sun and Moon are sirens that turn human when dry, secrets and conflict abound. There is a fic

Kofi:

Comms are [OPEN]

[laismoura-art]

Presenting the Umgadi Girls AU newest addition:

Princess Lisha Liang ❄️

Y'all didn't think I'd make a whole AU staring my girls and wouldn't bring Lisa, did you? My girl has a very special role!😌🩵

I'm changing her name to "Lisha" the Chinese Equivalent of Lisa, cause having an Americanised name here wouldn't make much sense, as she lives in Outworld! But I'll be calling her Lisa throughout the text for simplicity sake.

Now let me tell y'all about her! Starting by her design!

So, after making the A'rá people inspired by our indigenous people here in Brazil, I wanted to try and do something similar to the Cryomancers in Outworld!

So Lisa's outfit takes inspiration mainly from the Lisu people, a Tibeto-Burman ethical group who inhabit the mountainous regions of Myanmar, Southwest China, Thailand and India!

Their clothes are very detailed, filled with patterns, textures, and lots of beads!

I didn't keep the traditional headpiece though, cause Lisa's hair has always been an integral part of her design! (Female Cryomancers have blue hair due to their deeper connection to Cryomancy. Their power manifest earlier than in men and they must be trained from a very young age to prevent accidents! Women must keep themselves schooled to assure total control of their power. Needless say Lisa struggles with it.)

I took some liberties here and there to make the outfit fit Lisa's style! It coincidently ended up looking very similar to Mileena's new Empress skin, which is good cause it means my outfit is also canon accurate!🤭

About her/her people's backstory:

Before talking about Cryomancers, let's learn a bit about the Pyromancers!

There are three types of Pyromancers:

The Hellfire demons.

The Sorceresses of Argus.

The Dragonborns.

Dragonborns are one of the first people in Outworld, who lived before the sun.

Unlike the Edenians, who were gifted their light by Argus, the Dragonborns, could conjure their own light (which means they don't worship Argus or Delia, but their own dragon ancestors)

The Dragonborns may be born with either Pyromancy or Cryomancy, the later being more common (which is why Kuai Liang is a Pyromancer even though he is part of a long lineage of Cryomancers)

Whether you are born Pyromancer or Cryomancer is entirely up to fate. Genetics play no part in it, you can be a Cryomancer born from Pyromancers (Lisa's case, her mother, the Dragonborn Queen Zhi, is a Pyromancer) or a Pyromancer born from Cryomancer parents (Kuai's case)!

This is well-known knowledge among the Dragonborns, but unfortunately for Kuai, much of their knowledge was lost when his family moved to Earthrealm (why did they move is still a mystery) so Kuai grew up extremely insecure about his Pyromancy.

It also didn't help his case that, both male and female Pyromancers struggle to keep their power under control.

Sympathised by his brother's tough situation, Bi-Han often engaged in Kuai's constant self-control exercises, he would also keep himself schooled, even though there was no need for him to do so. This helped Kuai feel he wasn't so lonely <3

Back to the Dragonborns, they live in a tundra forest known as Hùnhé lín (the mixed forest) it has this name because within it there are plenty of warm and green oasis, where most Pyromancers reside. No one know how these oasis exist within the tundra, legends say it was the Dragon deities gift for their Pyromancers!

The Dragonborns heve been living in the Hùnhé lín long before Queen Mimh even considered become queen!

They have harvested and cared from these lands, built their homes and culture around these lands, and yet, they struggle with the expansion of the empires around them trying to occupy their territories or bringing their own conflicts to them!

They used to have a good commercial trade with a group of Edenian merchants, but these merchants were "infected" with Tarkat and had to be replaced. The new group however, were not nearly as co-operative or respectful, which prompted plenty of conflicts.

Meeting Li Mei's Umgadi:

Of course this sort of conflict wasn't supposed to be of Li Mei and her apprentices' concerns, but as soon as Harumi heard of the situation she insisted the Edenians were in the wrong and they had to put a stop to this conflict before it escalated!

The reason Harumi took these matters so personally was because ages ago, the Shirai were almost forced out of their own lands under the accusation of witchcraft (when in reality their attackers' goal was only to take control of their prosperous lands), Cetrion intervene in their behalf, and thus came their eternal gratitude. Preventing illegal occupations is something the Order of Cetrion takes as priority.

Harumi's aid and support to the Dragonborns granted her Lisa's trust and affection.

Now, just to clarify, this little brainstorming also granted my AU a tiny tiny little change:

I absolutely ADORE Lisa and Harumi as a couple! They are my handmade OTP, the ones who started it all, and the idea of exploring their relationship outside the "Sub-Zero meets Scorpion" scenario is just too tempting to let it slide!

Soooo, yeah, bottom line: FrozenBlossom is now Harumi's endgame for this AU! I hope it doesn't become a deal breaker to anyone (which I doubt will be cause y'all have always been supportive gems, and I love y'all for it🩷🩵)!

Meanwhile, Netherrealmer!Hanzo and Scorpion!Kuai will remain a thing, but, you know, just the two of them!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Hey! You made it to the end! Have some close-ups:

Cute Lisha and angry Lisha:

Lisha after being kissed by a cute girl:

Lisha gifting a warm coat to said cute girl (cute girls can't get colds, can they?) + height difference:

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

@mikka-minns @thedragonholder @rasta-bot @madamealtruist @orbitinytheworld @running-with-the-feels y'all want some Cryomancer lore?👀💕

[moodymisty]

I cannot stop thinking about what you wrote about Lorgar having a corruption kink. It’s infecting my mind. Lorgar x fem!reader please. I would love to see you write this. You have such a delectable way of writing.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Yesssss!! I have been so eager to write something for this so I'ma 'bout to go ham. Lorgar is my type of pathetic man and I am obsessed with him. Also I decided to combine a few requests together just to lessen my workload a bit. I so deeply apologize for how overly dramatic and verbose this is.

TL:DR, In my opinion Lorgar's corruption kink goes two ways; One is he himself wants to be corrupted, to be forced into listening to his baser desires without the guilt of doing so himself. It's all that religious trauma. The other way is the more traditional route where he has a sweet little beloved who he knows he's gonna fuck up once he touches them.

Summary: Lorgar is burning up, and you don't even know you're doing it.

Relationships: Lorgar/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Some vague mentions of NSFW acts, Mentions of Kor Phaeron abusing young Lorgar, Lorgar being mercurial as usual and extremely emotionally conflicted, Slight manipulation, The consent could maybe be considered dubious, Religious trauma and religious undertones

Word Count: 1901

"My Lord, are you well?"

The Astartes warrior looks towards his genefather with the slightest hint of concern hidden behind his helmet, hand tightened around the hilt of his polearm. Lorgar lets out a gentle laugh, and looks towards his sons with a gentle smile before giving a gentle platitude.

"I am well, worry not about me."

He looks down from them, back to the papers that scatter across the massive and ornate desk he calls his own. Ink stains mar the wood, along with the scratches of his tools and his own fingertips. His sons are not entirely convinced, and in their worry for their genefather as his quill struggles to put words to paper, look to each other before the one slightly elder speaks up.

"Father, are you s-" Lorgar looks up, and the look in his golden eyes alone makes the two Astartes close their mouths behind their decorated helms.

"Drop this topic of conversation."

He leaves no room for rebuttal. They cease, and Lorgar waits for the quiet sound of a vox crackling in their helmets, but finds none. Even if they don't communicate with each other however, the Primarch decides they don't need to witness him in this state any longer. He has no desire for an audience, nor to unsettle any of his sons further with an issue plaguing only himself.

"Take your leave. I need a moment to myself."

The Astartes listen without question, footsteps almost in sync as they leave the room. the cloth draped over their armor like robes swishes gently as the ladder out closes the door behind him.

Once gone Lorgar lets out a sigh, his chest relaxing. The sun is still bright, light distorted by panels of stained glass tucked between pillars with openings to a grand balcony. He wasn't making much progress of anything anyhow, and so he sees no harm in having a moment of respite to let his mind calm.

Though, it seem his mind had decided take it upon itself to wander when he wanted it least, golden eyes glancing to a book teetering on the edge of his desk with a delicate filigree across the binding.

He had thought this sickness, at first.

The way that his thoughts seemed unable to stay their path and seemed to be led astray. Lorgar was normally not one with trouble focusing, so when he'd found himself rereading pages and rewriting notes, he'd quickly begun to grow irritated at himself.

But soon, after days and nights of a foggy mind and a hunger he couldn't place, he found the source of his torment in a moment of clarity.

You.

The way you listen to his words with not just the awe of a scholar, but of someone wishing to know more of him. Of what he knows. Quickly he'd gone from you only be cast the basest of glances from across massive libraries, to the Primarch looking for the unique shape of your robes.

How you of all managed to capture him like this, he's yet to discover. But no matter how you had, you'd taken over his heart and soul none the less. He has what could be called an obsession for your eyes, that eagerness in them, grasping for a guiding hand. His guiding hand. You're a peaceful company, gentle and kind to him. He wishes to have seen such kindness in his youth.

But it wasn't just that. He quickly realizes over the scrolls he's meant to write, but only finds himself only glossing over already written words and nonsensical scribbles his hand forms from habit. He's forced to scrap the parchment and start over, biting the inside of his lip until he tastes iron on his tongue.

He doesn't just want your company. Not just your gentle voice or the feeling of your soul close to his.

He wants your touch. To feel your hand brush over his skin, to feel your lips on his own. In private- where he can unravel you to your soul and only he can see it all. To see your body draped in only the silks that lay over his massive bed, asleep.

It infuriates him.

He should be stronger than this. Love is an emotion he understands, he feels it; Towards his adoptive father, towards the Emperor, towards his sons.

But lust; He never thought himself weaker than it. He refuses to be weaker than it. To feel it's grip on him enticing him closer. You dance on the edge of a cliff beckoning him to fall as well. To think you don't even know you're doing it to him.

He had thought Kor Phaeron had beaten these feelings out of him in his youngest years; The few where he didn't tower over his human pater. He's been diligent in keeping this a secret from him, as there would be no consoling him if he found the Primarch lusting after you.

Oh, if only you knew of the thoughts he has of you when you are near- drenched in sin until they drip like a cloth soaked with blood.

He wants to feel your skin, hear the way your voice cracks as you cry, cry for him, the way your body writhes underneath his own as he ruins you for anyone but him. He wants to write on your neck, in places that your clothes fail to hide the blossoming bruises.

He wants, he wants, he wants.

But he can't just want anymore. He wants to have. To be the only one your eyes look towards.

He calls one of his sons to return, and speaks to them from across the room as he rises from his chair. He leaves his parchments scattered across the desk, unfinished and ink drying. He issues them to fetch you from where ever you may be, as he adjusts the shoulder of his robe.

"And do emphasize haste."

He doesn't know how much longer he can wait, with the way a fire overtakes his blood and his robes feel far too tight. Things like his hand can no longer suffice. He wants you.

The sanctuary of his personal quarters have never felt so relieving, when he arrives to it. Books are evenly stored on shelves all throughout, tomes of his own collection and many he had written himself. Or that his pater had, before and after his expulsion from the Covenant.

He looks away from them before he gets lost in thought on matters unbefitting of the now evening. You should be here at any moment, and Lorgar wishes to provide you a respite, not drown you in bitterness.

Anything to soothe your worries, he will do; He knows to look upon and be in the presence of a Primarch can unsettle mortals, for reasons both spiritual and physical. Lorgar turns away to look towards the quickly setting sun, just as he hears footsteps. Lorgar swears he can feel his heart begin to beat faster.

You enter slowly, head peeking around the edge of the massive door as you slip inside with the permission of the guards posted just outside.

You see him standing and staring out through an open window, over a vast stretch of palace ground. He can hear your footsteps, and turns to greet you with a warm smile and gentle look in his eyes. Lorgar has moments of fury, but so many of the times you see him, you're charmed by the surprising softness that he can show. Not many others say the same, much to your surprise.

"There you are. I've been waiting for you." You mistakenly take his sentence as a slight for being tardy.

"Apologies, I came as soon as I had gotten word." Lorgar is barely even listening to your carefully chosen words, he's too distracted by the way your hands are wringing themselves in front of you. He steps away from the window, and you speak again.

"What do you require of me, Lord Primarch?" His eyes are gentle as he brushes you off. He can see when you swallow, the way your throat bobs.

He could just order you into his bed. He knows you would do it, you're diligent and dutiful but Lorgar doesn't want to. He wants to unravel you underneath him, piece by piece, until you're just as drenched in his sin as he is. Until your body is crying and weeping for him, begging to be filled by him and only him.

"No formalities. We are past that sort of nonsense. You are more than welcome to call me by my name. As I do you." You hesitate. Your lips shift and he catches each little motion.

"Then, Lorgar, do you need something from me?"

He can hear the way his name tastes odd on your lips, but falls so smoothly from them.

Lorgar moves closer to you, up until it would take only one step for you to step on the bottoms of his robes. And then does he take a knee, lowering slowly until his right knee touches the floor. You hear the moment it does as his body weight rests with a dull thud. You're waiting for something of importance, but what he says instead is so far removed from the possible options you had in your mind, that you can only stare.

"I need you."

Your eyes widen, and he can hear you utter in your confusion,

"What?"

Lorgar recoils for a moment as you both look at each other.

You can feel your skin becoming heated at the decleration, but never had you thought this sort of thing becoming a reality. You'd thought the idea absurd, meanwhile Lorgar had been consumed by it. How you can bring a Primarch to his knee by the way his name falls from your lips. To cast aside the pleasant language he's written in for many years:

He wants to fuck you. He aches for you.

His hand moves of it's own accord, drifting closer.

"Let me touch you. Let me show you how you've overtaken my mind."

You feel his massive hand on your waist, shifting your clothing and almost revealing your skin. His fingers almost seem to shake, the same as his voice when he hisses out the words through his teeth.

"You've taken over it like a sickness, like a curse,"

He's been leaning closer to you this entire time, and now you can feel his breath on your face. His golden eyes flicker over your expression as he abruptly goes from anger, to an expression filled with adoration and something else.

"I, I'm s-" Lorgar shushes you.

"Don't be."

Your lips unconsciously part as he drifts closer, his hand still on your waist. the other joins it on the opposite side, and you can feel how much more skin they cover than a normal human's would. Lorgar might not be the largest of the Primarchs, but he still towers over you.

He crosses the distance and presses his lips to yours, feeling the warmth of his lips and his tanned skin against your own. You feel so much emotion in it that it's almost overwhelming, hands moving to rest ever so gently on his collarbone.

You could never reject his affections. And you don't want to. His lips glide across yours as he speaks.

"Let me show you it all, my beloved."

[sunboki]

— THE ALCHEMIST. TEASER a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. historical! au, set in 1940’s Korea, alchemist! au, friends to lovers, fluff, angst

WARNINGS. abusive behavior toward women, impoverished communities, overall sexist beliefs of the time, reader dresses as a man, mentions of death & disease, smoking (not reader or minho), war conflict, making out??

AUG'S NOTES. trust.. there’s much more drama and minho from here… for now, tell me what you think of the teaser!!

SYNOPSIS. Cities stricken with poverty, the lack of male presence in your home while surviving in a male-dominated society leaves meager food on the table and a piling debt. Left no choice but to make a risky decision, you decide that, if biology wanted to fail you, you’d simply try another approach.

alternatively :

In which deception introduces you into an entirely new reality, and The Alchemist.

It’s one thing surviving with the knowledge you can change something, whatever it may be that’s wrong. 

It’s another when that problem isn’t merely changeable, but biological. 

Your problem? You’re a woman. 

Not as easy to fix, right?

.

.

.

With your father lost in the war, fruitlessly straining to support a family of girls, the household is left helpless.

Representation is nonexistent, and merely walking outside frets harassment and laughter struck in your face at the mention of working. 

A woman, working? Hilarious. 

Or, apparently to the men in pubs it certainly is.

Some things you can’t change, yes, but there are always alternatives. And as for now, you’re helplessly searching high and low for that alternative, whatever it may be. 

Selling yourself is possible, though the inability to remain connected to your family eliminates that option. 

When you get so desperate, there’s no incentive in guarding your pride. Because being called derogatory names isn’t as bad as losing them, the people you call home.

October welcomes little warmth, biting your fingertips and sending a tremor of chills cascading down your spine. Minimal sunlight peers through dense clouds, shrouding the atmosphere in a depressing haze. 

You’re on your way to the apothecary, but not to purchase anything. The pennies in your pocket won’t amount to anything in the face of medicinal prices, which happens to be one of your many alternatives. 

Since day one, you’ve had a rock to rely on.

Medicine. 

Lack of money meant improper living conditions, entailing sickness. 

Constantly.

Whether it was your mother, your younger sister, yourself, an infection of some sort occupied your respiratory system, wreaking havoc for wallets and mental health altogether. 

Purchasing necessary medication became impossible the further you drowned in your debt, to the point drastic measures needed to be taken in order to prevent death from infesting itself in the household as well.

Then came the question. If you couldn’t purchase the medicine itself, why not collect the ingredients?

Alternatives.

Behind the apothecary you discovered mint hedges that, if mixed with wormwood and balm, could aid in curing Sun-ja’s current sickness, colic. 

Although, you’d have to be swift in your efforts, ensuring the shop owner didn’t notice your presence.

Too many times had you nearly been caught, risking a good beating from the red-haired, burly man regarded as Mr. Myeong.

Fiery red hair complimented an equally unruly personality you aimed not to cross by. Ever.

Yet, unlike Mr. Myeong, his wife was the polar opposite, an ideal magnet. She was petite and soft-spoken, but out of her appealing traits, you found her resilience to be most attractive.

Mrs. Myeong is stubborn. She’s strong in what she believes, sporting an unquestionably vocal opinion that can’t be quenched.

The woman is, likely, the only woman capable of sealing her husband’s mouth shut.  

Hidden between thorn ridden weeds sits your desired leaves, abundant in supply.

You clutch your satchel closer, plucking as quickly as possible whilst crouched to the ground, maneuvering through tickling grasses and itchy reeds. 

Your mission remains successful, until the wretched sound of a doorknob rips your head upward, the red-haired man in question standing nonplussed, arms crossed. 

He wears a cocked brow, examining what you’re desperately trying to veil away.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Stealing, are we?” Black boot clad frame thumping closer, you immediately prepare to run, hair standing on end like an agitated feline.

Instead, his huge hand swoops down to grab your collar, other evidently ready to land a harsh slap to your face.

Instinctively cringing, you brace for the stinging impact.

That is, before a saccharine, lullaby-worthy voice rings from the cracked doorway, belonging to none other than Mrs. Myeong.

“Honey! Have you seen the new envelope that came in?” 

Heels clicking whilst padding over cobblestone to where you two stand, her husband fixates you with a stern, threatening glare. 

Finally dropping your frame to the ground, you slump forward, pulse pounding loud enough you fear your chest may implode. 

Mrs. Myeong, though wearing a taut expression, ushers him off, delivering a curt nod your way, intentional brows furrowed in place. 

‘Thank you’ You wish to say, but hold your tongue, watching them disappear inside.

Another time.

Walking home was rather uneventful (much to your delight), left to enjoy the crisp, cool air sifting through your lungs in steady rhythm, the lazy billows of cigar smoke dwindling from gaping doorways.

Calm. 

Nothing calm ever lasts long.

Stashing the house key back into your decrepit leather draw bag, your footsteps still upon entering, struck terror-filled.

Your mother, strawn across the floor, hacks amongst her rampant coughs, body convulsing in desperate shivers, skin drenched a ghastly blue.

Sprinting to her side, you kneel down, rolling the woman over to find her face utterly battered, new black eye beginning to swell, cheek bruised a mawkish purple against hollowed cheekbones. 

Sharks.

To your left Sun-ja hides in the corner, rags for a blanket pulled to her chest, shielded between the wall and a tipped cabinet. 

Over and over they’ve begun visiting, to the point your mother became recognizable by her continuous black eye, her torn clothing and stooped posture. 

Exhausted, she was exhausted. 

Yet, she took the beatings. The torturous punches. Jarring slaps, traumatic insults, tarnishing. Your mother took it so you wouldn’t, so you and Sun-ja could live.

And it’s at that moment you make up your mind, discover this occasion’s alternative. 

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[princess-of-the-corner]

Important Context: Lusamine in Sun and Moon was canonically, in the text of the game itself, infected with alien neurotoxins that removed her inhibitions and amplified her character flaws.

Once they were flushed from her system, she immediately stopped verbally abusing her daughter, and Lillie even took her to Kanto to try and get medical treatment from fusing with Nihilego.

Lillie does not, at any point, decide to cut Lusamine out of her life. Indeed, the final battle against Lusamine is the result of Lillie chasing her into another dimension to rescue her.

Lusamine in the anime is a loving-yet-neglectful/absent parent who Lillie somewhat resents due to said mother disregarding Lillie's own desires and feelings even as she otherwise dotes on her, with the two often butting heads. As Lusamine is a protagonist instead of an antagonist, a good chunk of her arc is based around repairing her relationships with her children. While she's still obsessed with the Ultra Beasts, it's nowhere NEAR the extent of her in-game counterpart, not until she ends up getting abducted by and fused with Nihilego, and her womanchild tendencies are cranked up to a disturbing level.

In Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon, Lusamine's abuse is FAR less severe, with her being more of an overprotective control freak than anything. with her being in opposition to the player because she believes she's good enough to defeat Necrozma. She's reimagined as a well-intentioned extremist who's trying to protect Alola from the game's ACTUAL main villain: Necrozma, with the conflict mostly boiling down to Lusamine being unwilling to admit that she's in over her head. The story is FAR weaker than Sun and Moon as a result.

Ah hm.

Yeah I think I like the original SM better. That sounds fascinating.

The anime kinda sounds like an AU where Lusamine gets some fucking help for the neurotoxins before the plot kicks off, but the plot still kicks off. So we're getting a post SM personality during the events of SM. (to compare, I'm kinda seeing this like what I did with Enji in the Amnesia!Dabi AU. He gets help earlier but the plot is still happening around him.)

USUM sounds like it just went off the rails.

[cosmic-kinglet]

Oh no! The greatest torture Jack could have inflicted! Commercial ukelele music! XD

In all seriousness, there are quite a few things here. Jack expressing his own form of malice toward Ruin for killing Solar, but above all else just wanting to understand the reasons and logic behind it all. Ruin preparing some bodies to use to locate Dark Sun (though, I'm not sure how he's going to use those bodies or how he's going to locate a pocket dimension that technically doesn't exist.) But also, getting a bit more information about what happened in Ruin's home dimension. Apparently, he had to watch over the course of 10 years as the virus corrupted the other animatronics. Which leads me to wonder, even more than before, how he ended up getting out without being infected. He had said before that he was a "carrier" of the virus, but not infected. So, was he immune to it somehow? Was it because he came straight from the creator, where the other animatronics were made by others? It's likely we'll never get answers to those questions, but I also didn't really think we'd get as much information about what happened I that dimension as we have at this point. So, who knows?

And that really was the most angry we've ever seen Ruin become! We've seen him become irritated by Foxy, and later by Bloodmoon. But, he's never gotten truly angry before. Honestly, that's probably why we haven't gotten much about his dimension before; talking about it sets him off, as he remembers how he suffered and watched the suffering of those around him. Like, Ruin still makes me VERY angry, but I can admit I sort of feel bad for him. We love complicated characters with skewed morality that make us feel EXTREMELY conflicted feelings!

[tightjeansjavi]

Burning in a Hopeless Dream

Boston QZ: Part 4

A/N: this chapter, and the next are extremely crucial to the stories plot. It focuses on Joel’s conflicted feelings for you, and for Tess. (love triangle baby) buckle up and we can laugh through the pain together, cheers! ☻

Summary: two months have passed since Joel taught you a lesson. One day in October, you come down with the flu, throughout the night your condition worsens, and Joel makes the decision that him and Tess will go to Bill and Franks to get you medicine.

~word count : 3.7k~

Warnings: age gap (m/c is 28) angst, love triangle brewing, soft!joel, protective!joel, m/c is sick, talk of guns, swearing, unrequited love, mild praise kink (+18) minors dni !

Songs for this chapter:

“Touch” by Sleeping At Last

“Forget Me Not” by The Civil Wars

____________

October 2020: Boston QZ

October had always been your favorite month. A whole month dedicated to spooks? Watching scary movies, dressing up and of course, candy. You absolutely loved dressing up for Halloween as a child. You always had a costume picked out far in advance. You were 11 and this year you were going to go as “Dani Dennison” from Hocus Pocus, your ultimate favorite Halloween movie, and your favorite character. Dani was a little spit fire, just like you. Your mom had sewn you a replica of Dani’s costume, witch's hat and all. You remembered the excitement of seeing it on the hanger in your childhood room one day after school in mid September, days before the world as you knew it would end. You never got the chance to wear your Dani Dennison costume, the world ended September 26th, 2003. You imagined now, your little costume, moth eaten and disintegrating to nothing but a precious memory.

October meant nothing to you anymore. You were grown, you had seen things and your soul had hardened. Your love for Halloween remained a distant memory of your childhood and it would stay there. Two months had passed since your night with Joel. You kept your promise to never speak of what happened between you to anyone. You were more cautious of your whereabouts and you wanted to give Joel a reason for him to trust you, to rely on you again.

The air was chilly as you walked home from another grueling day shoveling shit. Your body ached and your head throbbed. Your throat was raw and inflamed. You were coming down with something, you were certain of it. Catching a cold or any illness was not taken lightly by Fedra. Those fucks couldn’t differentiate a common cold from being infected and you knew that you had to get home quick. You took the back alleyways home instead of the main streets, ducking between tight corners as you moved through the shadows. The sun had nearly disappeared on the horizon by the time you made it back to the apartment. You could hear the Fedra trucks outside, making their rounds for civilians out past curfew. You had just barely made it, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you locked the door behind you.

Tess and Joel were on a run and wouldn’t be back till the morning. With the weather changing they needed to stack up on supplies, it was crucial. You slowly sank down onto the couch, rubbing your hands over your face. You felt like fucking shit. Leaning back, with your eyes closed, you took a few deep breaths. Maybe this would just be a small cold that would last a couple days. You wanted to convince yourself that it wasn’t something worse. Just a stupid little cold that you could easily get over.

By midnight you were in pure misery. Your body ached one hour and the next you had the chills. You were sweating profusely and your forehead was hot to the touch and you looked pale. You did your best to hide your coughs, afraid that with the thin walls, someone might hear you.

At 12:30 you heard the doorknob jiggle and your blood went ice cold, you watched it open as Tess and Joel quietly slipped inside, they hadn’t noticed your huddled form on the couch yet.

You coughed into your sleeve.

Immediately, Joel and Tess whipped around, both with guns drawn on instinct but when he saw it was only you, his shoulders relaxed slightly as he slowly lowered his gun.

“Christ, Gwen. The hell are you doin up at this hour?”

He took a step towards the couch, Tess behind him, gun still drawn. Then he saw your face and the sweat dripping down your brows and your body trembling, even under the thick blanket that embraced you.

You couldn’t speak, your throat was so raw that your voice was nearly gone as you let out another a low cough, eyes trained on both of them, nervously.

“Joel, it’s not what you think it is—“

He cut you off then, gun raised as he took a step back, instinctively pushing Tess behind his broad form with his free hand.

“You’re fuckin infected?!” He harshly whispered with his finger hovering over the trigger.

You slowly raised your hands above your head then, body still trembling and your mind felt hazy from the fever.

“I’m not infected Joel. I’m sick. A cold or flu or somethin! I swear. I’m not infected.” Your heart was racing and your lower lip quivered, a single tear slowly rolling down your cheek, dripping down your chin. Your glossy eyes desperately pleading with him to believe that you were telling the truth.

“Joel you gotta–” Tess intervened but he cut her off too.

“Don’t, Tess. Alright? Just give me a minute here.” He spoke, while still pointing his gun at you, right between your eyes. You knew he could pull the trigger at any moment, ending your short time on earth. To your surprise, he instead pulled out the device that was used by Fedra soldiers to check new QZ residents for the cordyceps infection. For a moment, you thought about where the hell he had gotten the device but now was not the time for questions.

“I’m gonna need ya to turn your neck towards me doll, nice and slow. You make any sudden movement, and I’ll shoot. Do I make myself clear?” He spoke sternly, watching you intensely, his own palms beginning to sweat. He knew that if the device turned bright red, he’d have no choice but to pull the trigger. Joel wasn’t a religious man by any means, but he found himself silently praying for the device to turn green.

You gave him a meek nod, arms still raised behind your head, they were beginning to ache but you didn’t dare move them. You knew Joel would shoot you, he wouldn’t hesitate.

“Yes, Joel.” You spoke just above a whisper and slowly, you turned your neck to him, feeling your pulse ringing in your ears.

“Good girl.” He took a deep breath, as he lowered the device to the base of your neck, pressing the button and watched you wince from the slight pinch. You both held your breath for those fleeting seconds as the device beeped. It turned green a moment later. You were not infected. You had told him the truth. Relief spread across Joel’s face and you mirrored him, finally bringing your arms down from your head as he lowered his gun, slipping it back into his holster.

“Not infected.” He breathed out, momentarily glancing back at Tess, who still had her gun trained on you even after the device turned green. One stern look from her partner, and she was stuffing it back in her holster. “What a relief. She lives another day. Oh joy.” She muttered to herself.

“I told you I was telling the truth, Joel.” You spoke finally, bringing your hand up to your chest to feel your heart rate return to normal but you were still very much unwell.

“I know, I know, doll. I just had to be sure. M’sorry if I scared you. Can never be too careful.” He sighed then, setting the device down on the coffee table carefully then before he brought the back of his hand to your forehead, his lips curving into a deep frown when he could feel how hot your skin was under his touch.

“Fuck.” “You’re burning up Gwen. How long have you had this fever for huh? Just for today? For a few hours?”

He was asking too many questions at once for you to be able to keep up but his concern for you was evident.

“I—I don’t know. Maybe a few hours? I started feelin like shit right before my shift was up. Took the back alleys to avoid any Fedra soldiers and then it just started getting worse.”

You coughed into your sleeve again, falling back into the couch, exhausted.

“Tess, Tess! Get me a cold washcloth now.” He spoke urgently to his partner, his worried eyes trained on your shivering form as he slowly sank down to his knees so he was more on your level. His back ached but he didn’t care.

“You sure you weren’t seen? No one heard you? You know what Fedra would do if they saw you like this, right? They wouldn’t hesitate. Those fucks don’t know how to tell the difference between being infected versus bein ill.”

Tess reluctantly went and grabbed a washcloth from the kitchen, drenching it in cold water before she rang it out and brought it over to her partner, giving you a disapproving look before she turned on her heel and walked away.

“I know what they would have done to me, Joel. I know they wouldn’t hesitate. That’s why I took the back alleys. Like you taught me. I was careful, I was quiet.”

“Good girl. M’proud of you.” He spoke softly as he brought the washcloth over your forehead. “Gonna get you some help okay? Just need you to stay here and rest. Tess and I might need to go on a run again. We’ll get ya some medicine and you’ll be as good as new, I promise.”

Your heart absolutely melted in your chest from Joel’s concern over your well-being. You didn’t expect him to care, let alone potentially risk his life to get you some damn medicine. This was so against Joel’s nature, you thought.

“Joel, you don’t need to go on another run for me. It’s fine. I’ll be alright. Really, I’m not gonna let a fever take me out.”

“No.” He was stern with you now. “You’re not gonna fight me on this. You’re gonna rest these next few days and Tess and I will go to Bill and Franks. We'll get the medicine and be back in 3 days time. Now rest, don’t make me ask twice.”

“You already did ask twice, Miller.” You laughed quietly before coughing.

Joel didn’t find it funny. Not one bit, as he was too concerned that your fever could get worse if he didn’t act fast enough. He slowly rose from his knees then, you heard them crack as he muttered under his breath, taking one last look at your shivering form before he walked away to find Tess.

He leaned against the door jamb of their shared room, arms crossed over his chest.

“We gotta go to Bill and Frank’s, first thing tomorrow morning.”

Tess slowly looked up at her partner as she sat on the edge of bed and shook her head.

“Joel, we nearly were just caught on this last run. She’s got a fever, man. She’s not on her fucking death bed.”

“Did you fuckin hear me? We’re goin to Bill and Frank’s tomorrow. Her fever could get worse. She could be on her death bed in a matter of days if we don’t make this run.”

He paused then before continuing.

“She needs medicine, Tess. Please, do this for me.”

Tess took a deep breath then, placing her hands on her knees then feeling exhausted from the day and just wanted to sleep.

“Fine. We’ll go to Bill and Frank’s. We’ll get her the medicine and then we’ll come home.”

Joel let out a sigh of relief, grateful that his partner didn’t have it in her to fight him on this.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” She slumped down on the mattress then, rolling over with her back facing him. He joined her shortly after. She could feel the dip of the mattress from his body, his strong arms wounding around her waist as he pulled her back against his chest, nuzzling his face into her neck where he pressed a soft kiss into her skin, breathing her in.

“G’night.” He whispered softly into the nape of her neck.

Tess didn’t respond. She instead placed her hands over his, interlocking their fingers as she settled into a deep slumber, listening to his steady heartbeat lull her to sleep.

____________

Your fever had gotten worse through the night. Joel had hardly been able to sleep when he could hear your painful coughs fill the stagnant air and it twisted his heart painfully. You were beyond miserable, nearly begging death to take you out. Anything was better than feeling the oxygen being stolen from your lungs.

When the sun began to slowly peek in the sky, creating an array of orange and red hues, Joel slowly rose from the bed. Untangling his body from Tess’s. He was kind enough to drape his half of the coarse blanket around her, not wanting to disturb her slumber. He watched as she grabbed ahold of the blanket and pulled it tighter around her. He leaned down then, pressing a ghost of a kiss to her head before he quietly left their joined room, softly closing the door behind him.

Joel was apprehensive as he padded down the hall. He was afraid of what he might see as the couch with your curled up form, in a tight ball came into his view. His heart physically ached at the sight of you. You were shivering, mumbling in your sleep while you clutched the blanket like your life depended on it. He slowly walked over to the couch, sinking down to his knees in front of you. His touch was extremely delicate as he gently brushed a few strands of your sweat soaked hair from your forehead. His lips were set in a deep frown. Why did it have to be you to get so sick? Why couldn’t it be him? You instinctively leaned into the soft touch of his fingers, your lashes slowly fluttering open. “Joel.” You hoarsely whispered, lips trembling.

“Shh.” He whispered. “M’gonna get you the medicine okay? G’nna take care of you. You’re gonna be alright, doll. I promise. Just need ya to hang in there for a few days, okay?” He rasped. His voice was comforting at this early hour. His words were so soft spoken, you swore you were hallucinating. Or, it was just the fever overtaking your senses.

“I’m f-fine Joel. Just a fever, that's all. A real terrible fuckin fever.”

He chuckled under his breath then because only you would be so defiant of your own illness. A real trooper is what you were. There’s no way you were going to let this fever take you out.

“I know, doll. I know. You’re a tough little thing, that’s a fact.” He sighed, removing his fingers from your forehead as he slowly rose from his knees. “G’nna give Tess another 20 and then we’re gonna get goin. Don’t want to waste anymore time.”

You swallowed the lump growing in your throat as you watched him rise from the floor. Locking eyes with him for a brief moment before he had looked away.

“Three days and you’ll be back, right?” You spoke just above a whisper, feeling the rawness of your throat screaming at you.

“Yes. I promise. Three days' time and I'll be back.” He reassured you as he walked over to the window, glancing down at the barren street, knowing that the window of opportunity for him and Tess to leave without Fedra noticing would be up by the hour.

“You really don’t have to go and do this for me Joel. I don’t want you and Tess risking your lives for me. Risking the chance of you both getting thrown in lock up? I don’t want that to happen.”

He turned towards you then, arms down at his side and he huffed, frustratingly.

“I’m a cruel man, doll. However, m’not cruel enough to sit here and watch you suffer. I’ve still got some of my compassion left. Just enough for you.”

He had shuffled over to the end of the couch, sinking down as he felt around for the loose floorboard, pulling up the plank of wood, setting it down to the side. Reaching into the hole in the flooring, he pulled out a carton of bullets and a revolver that he had stashed away.

“Joel.”

“Gwen.” He spoke in the same tone as you. Looking up at you from the floor with his eyebrow raised.

“You done fightin’ me on this now?”

“No.”

He sighed then. Placing the loose plank of wood back in place before he stood up.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good Gwen.”

“I know I am.”

You saw his lips curve up ever so slightly from your banter.

“At least we’re able to agree on one thing.” He spoke with amusement in his voice.

The lighthearted moment you shared together came to an abrupt end. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife as Joel slowly sank down onto the end of the couch, expertly loading the cylinder of the revolver with the cartridges. You couldn’t help but watch his hands as they worked. You imagined he had done this over a thousand times by now.

“You listen now, alright? Anyone that tries to come through that door, you shoot. Don’t hesitate because chances are, they’ll shoot first. Don’t give ‘em the opportunity.”

“Joel, I highly doubt that anyone–” He cut you off then.

“Gwen, this ain’t no time for games alright? M’not gonna be here to protect ya. If people hear that Tess and I are out of town they will come. Don’t fight me on this.” He spoke sternly, his eyes trained on you, brows furrowed in a deep line.

“Okay.” You breathed out. “I won’t give them the opportunity to shoot first.”

“Good girl.” He handed you the gun then, barrel facing towards the floor.

“Now, show me how you hold it. No one handed shit either. This ain’t the movies.”

He watched as you grabbed the base of the gun, carefully with both hands. You knew how to wield a knife like it was the back of your hand, but guns were a whole new territory for you.

“Not bad for a first timer.” He leaned over to you then, placing his large hands over yours to adjust your grip, gently moving your thumbs so they were interlocked over each other. “Thumb over your thumb, left hand squeezes down on the right. You got it?”

You watched carefully as he adjusted your grip, his close proximity was enough to make your head spin and when he was sure you could handle it, he moved his hands off of yours, his eyes focused on your face as you gave him a slight nod.

“Yeah, I think I got it. Seems simple enough.”

“Let’s just hope you don’t have to use it. Just giving it to ya as an extra precaution.” He said as he gently grabbed the gun from your grip and set it down on the coffee table. “When you’re feelin better, I'll teach you how to properly shoot. You’re gonna need to know how if you eventually want to go on more runs.”

He gave your calf a slight squeeze then, his eyes reassuring you that you’d be just fine, and you believed him. “Yeah, figured I would need to use one of these eventually.”

He slowly stood from the couch then, readjusting your blanket so that it covered your feet. Joel could be a real softy when he wanted to be. It was a rare occurrence for him to be gentle and patient with you. Those were two things that Joel Miller wasn’t the best at. With you, he made the effort and you greatly appreciated it.

Joel didn’t know what to say at that moment. He didn’t want to freak you out with the possibility that this fever could in fact take you out. He wanted you to remain calm for him, but this was shit he wasn’t good at. So all he could do now was look at you, taking a mental picture in his mind of your features, in case he never got to see them again. You both knew there was a possibility that you wouldn’t see each other again. That was just the cruel reality of the world you lived in now.

20 minutes had passed and Tess had come out of the bedroom, dressed with her bag over her shoulder, gun on her hip and her usual displeased look on her face when she saw that you were very much still alive.

“We gotta get movin, Joel.” She had walked past him into the kitchen, grabbing a small stash of food and shoved it in her backpack.

“I’ll be outside. So make it quick. I’d like to avoid running into any Fedra soldiers, and I’m not really in the mood to kill anyone this early if we can avoid it.” She laced her boots up then by the door and slipped her jacket on before taking one last look at you, shaking her head slightly as she slipped out the door, closing it behind her.

“Alright, doll. Remember what I said. Don’t give anyone the opportunity to shoot first, thumb over your thumb. Don’t go do somethin stupid either. Like shootin your ass off or somethin like that.” He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, as he looked at you.

“Joel, I’m not gonna go and shoot my ass off. I doubt I’ll be doing much of anything for the next few days.”

“I know, but I just wanted to make myself clear.” He walked over to you then, setting down a few books and a ration of food and a canister of water.

“You’ve made yourself as clear as day.”

He adjusted his gun on his holster then as he took one last look at you. “I’ll be back soon. I promise. Get some rest and don’t worry about Tess and I out there. We’ll be alright.” He wanted to hug you, kiss you even but time was ticking and he had to move.

You gave him a little salute then, watching his back turn as he walked towards the door and grabbed the handle, slowly turning it before he looked back at you, giving you a slight nod and then he was gone. You heard the sound of the door locking, and he had jiggled it for good measure. You could hear his and Tess’s footsteps echoing down the hall. Each step becoming softer, and softer till you could hear them no more. Now it was just you, in the dead silence of their apartment. You held his promise of return like an oath. Joel Miller was a lot of things, but he was not a liar. You knew he would return to you.

CHAPTER 5:

[yermes]

PAC: 🚬

Achieving my bimbo vampire step mom aesthetic by: sleeping all day, picking up one of my besties even tho i’m so sick the sun hurts my eyes, cannot see, cannot hear so I am just playing all my shows and music on MAX volume as I slowly decay in the background. I GOT SICK AGAIN THIS TIME WITH AN EAR INFECTION 😭 and head cold. But hey theres going to be a super blue moon and a visible Saturn. What a vibe. Ruler of both Cap and Aqu it really depicts the veil which so gently divides the as above so below. It also has a great many other of Correspondences but in MY working on the 30th thats what my focus is on. To me saturn is like the collab between Bauer and Lululemon. Lets see how you as an individual represent duality in your own life.

Pick a meme

The cards

The Hierophant 🪦

Magus of the Eternal Gods, Vau, Nail

Honestly such a great card which represents both physical strength and none physical strength. As well as the macrocosm and microcosm. The microcosm which is reflected in man is just a small ecosystem of the divine which we can pick apart and associate with small aspects of the universe. Aka. Magic kinda. However with the divinity in man comes the primal in man. And while this card celebrates the divinity it reversed also represents the unorthodox vulnerable aspects of the individual. Connect the two. They do not have to be strangers.

Princess of wands 🚰

Venus in fire, firey aspect of earth, earth in the fires of aziluth, malkuth

The line between self love and self destruction is a FINE LINE and your ass is cutting it CLOSEEEEE. If you have to ask yourself: when does passion turn into arrogance. When does your zest for life make you broke asf and lead you to realize your zest may not have been so real at all but a delusion you under took for survival. When does the real and the fake collide and when do you recognize it?

The lovers 🕯️

Children of the Voice Divine, Zain, Sword

This card kinda sends me because it depicts Perseus saving Andromeda which yeah thats a cute love story. But are they in love or is that shit Stockholm syndrome. This card also has a strong connection to its opposite- the temperance. Basically big dawg love can go in any direction. You may be a stockholm syndrome delulu baddie who grows into love or it goes into disunion discord and all that ugly shit. Love can both create and destroy.

Princess of swords 🪜

Venus in air, earth in the air of Yetzirah, malkuth

Well it is human nature isn’t it? You can make and you can break and its all kind of the same when you think about it. When you put to much logic into it you almost lack that moral understanding because feelings almost cannot fit into your logical one track minded world view. While being free and creative you could also be stubborn and harsh which in time will dwindle your creativity. At your best you have many skills, talents, ideas. At your worst you are the conflict between earth and air. Insecure and at times not compatible with yourself. Open yourself up do not keep shutting yourself down.

Extras: I may have posted that extra ass thing abt piercing the veil but that is a lie I’m fr just trying to manifest some dick and get you an extra step daddy be blessed.

Tip Jar

Insta

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

when reading this keep in mind that A) i dont know much about your oc Phoenix or the other fics and B) i strongly believe that stories cant exist without confict of some sort. love triangle, war, homework is due tomorrow and u havent started, if there isnt an issue there isnt a story

about the Phoenix reader situation, i dont know about your oc Phoenix but i worry if you don't write it carefully it might feel like an op oc situation. every time she runs into an issue its gonna be why didn't reader use this artefact? why didn't reader use that artefact? i don't know how strong the artefacts are but i do know that unchecked overpowered-ness can ruin a story. if sun wukong wasn't limited by tripitaka and his rules, he would have dealt with every demon in their way without much issue and jttw would have been much shorter and suckier for it.

i find stories shine when characters have to work around their limitations and what they have instead of giving them powers/tools that solve issues for them. its kinda hard to write a conflict when somebody has a maguffin that completely bypasses the issue.

reader is from the modern world, use that! we have access to a breadth of knowledge that people didnt back then, even if reader is no expert in the field, she should have picked something up by social osmosis at the very least!

everyone knows something about cpr, and if reader had classes regarding health and the body, she might have learned basic first aid! imagine the tension of reader having to use barebones first aid knowledge, being unsure if she's patched up to recover in time and having to navigate the threat of infection instead of an artefact bypassing all that juicy juicy plot.

and the glamor artefact, have reader struggle to get a disguise instead. have reader having to bargain or barter or hell, even steal to get different outfits to change her is a good way to explore her personality! how much of her apperence would she be willing to change to be in disguise? would she cut her hair? wear a mask and hood? give up things she had on her from her homeworld to barter for a better disguise? cover herself in mud or walk through a creek/river to throw off her scent?

and thats just two artifacts that i covered here! every time you give a character a tool that solves problems you strip yourself of multiple potential plot points you could have explored and written a story about!

to end this all off:

sun wukong and the six eared macaque[jttw ver at the very least] are the spiders georg when it comes to power scaling. they are extreme outliers, both of them. when it comes to a fight, they exist to be op. so dont give them fights, give them issues that they cant punch their way out of. they cant fight their way into readers affections, use that.

When reading this know that I love a good debate. I can definitely see where your coming from don't worry.

I like the idea of using fantasy and fiction in my writing. I like reading about character that have it too.

Just because a character has a tool doesn't mean they always know how to use it. And each tool would have a weakness.

Reader doesn't know how to fly, just because she gets wings doesn't mean that she'll know how to use them immediately.

Fire burns, Reader isn't immune to fire being human so she'd only be able to use it for specific things. Such as lighting a camp fire, but again just because she can light it doesn't mean it would stay lit. Such as if the wood she is lighting is too wet or so forth. Since fire needs fuel she'd have to learn how to keep a fire going and all.

Growing plants would be slow and can't garrenttee that they will be healthy or say the food it grows safe to eat.

When healing it would require energy and honestly the healing would be closer to just a slightly sped form of healing. So the person healed would still need time to rest because it would also use there energy as well. It also can't be used all of the time (I would be deciding an actual logic system for it later if this is the route I would like to go.) *Basically pain relief and minor healing*

- Adding onto the healing, it wouldn't be able to work on herself, and since she is the only one who can use it, that doesn't help too much. Since Shadowpeach are fucking immortal! Well only like 2x immortal at the beginning since it starts between the time after Subodi and before the heaven attack.

- As for CPR that would be really fun to play around with. But again I'd she was to heal someone it would be another human or Spirit. Due to the op power of the monkeys (and no they can't use their fists to gain her affection 😂 though they Wukong might try to impress her that way)

The sheild is almost impenetrable, not completely, and honestly, it was more of a tool to be used against Wukong and Macaque for plot reasons. So that they have a harder time getting to Reader rather than being able to just capture her immediately.

The glamour mask was also more so for a plot point that comes up later, a specific idea that came about in my head a while ago. Which ends with --- (Said mask can only have one other transformation besides the user's real form).

Also the first two are unable to be used in the cold because plants sleep in the winter and cold is the opposite of heat.

So there are downsides to all of these. Ways to get around them and ways to damage them. I'm not trying to make the Reader OP at all, I was just having an idea and seeing where it was going. These artifacts wouldn't be able to all be used at once, all would require concentration (she's getting attacked she needs to concentrate to make a sheild but her fear gets in the way) or (having a panic attack over someone being injured and can't concentrate to heal them)

These artifacts existing also wouldn't mean that they are with her at all times. In the beginning of the story, she only has a switchblade, and that's it. She might find one and lose it, or she might get a different one and break it. Who knows being as they would be physical objects she wouldn't be able to have them at all times.

I loved answering this, and I will be hoping you respond, anon. I wonder if you've got some other tidbits of ideas for me.

Also, does anyone else have suggestions? Send them my way. I love to debate~ I think I'm using that word right at least 😅