#please ignore implications of IVs and such because i have NO IDEA how that shit works

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Smoke & Mirrors - part 1

Neil x Reader

Chapter 1: Natural

summary: you’ve been working your ass off for that promotion, but here comes your boss with his new brilliant addition to the team and just gives him the job straight away. 

warnings: this whole series is going to be 18+, the first chapter contains swearing and alcohol, but we are just warming up.

author’s note: Ayyyy new series hype! New setting, new dynamic, what canon?

What can you expect from the whole story? Enemies/Rivals to Lovers, with all its implications, I think. 

The whole series was prompted by @vaneilla​‘s brilliant ideas, and they were just too good to not give them a full series with fem!Reader. Not only that, my dear friend continues to provide the best soundtrack for our new duo, and I will definitely share it all some time later (because oi, spoilers!)

The song for this chapter is Imagine Dragons - Natural

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think, please? 

___

You took your things out of the locker and slammed it shut. It felt as if the blood was boiling in your veins and you couldn’t wait to get out of the building. 

“He’s good, eh?”

You scoffed and glared over your shoulder. If looks could kill, Ives would have dropped dead right that instant. 

‘He’ was the newest addition to your team. And outranking you since his day one. The boss's new pride and joy. Neil. “A true natural.” As if it was enough to erase the last few years of you working your ass out for that promotion. 

You still couldn’t believe that TP had been able to pull bullshit like that off. This was against every regulation, but apparently, a couple of unofficial missions together and some fast-track training were enough to judge his predispositions for the job.

And it was like a slap to the face.

At least they had the decency to not assign you to his squad on the first operation together. But as your teams were forced to cooperate, you’d put a fair effort into watching him closely out there, a part of you waiting for a major slip out. 

There was none.

Even so, you’d rather stab yourself than admit he was good.

“His shooting skills are a joke.”  

Ives shrugged. “He makes up for it in close combat.”

You saw what your friend was trying to accomplish with that talk. You knew he felt guilty about that whole situation, he’d always been your biggest supporter in terms of the promotion. You appreciated the effort, even though the final decision was out of his hands.

The thought that he felt sorry for you wasn’t helping, quite the opposite. You didn’t need anyone’s pity.

“The whole plan could have been more efficient,” you huffed and grabbed your backpack, praying that Ives would drop the subject and just let you leave. 

But that was not your day.

“We got the job done.”

“Still--”

“Still,” he insisted, placing a hand on your arm. He raised a brow. “Never had you down as a sore loser, mate.”

There it was, the last straw.

“And I always knew you were an inconsiderate arse,” you chuckled bitterly and smacked his hand away. You walked around Ives and headed to the exit, fuming.

Only to bump into your new sergeant at the door.

“Easy there,” said Neil as he grabbed you by the shoulders, trying to look into your face to check if you were fine.

“Watch where you’re going, blondie,” you sneered and shoved him to the side so you could squeeze past him through the door. 

Neil’s voice followed you into the corridor. “Is she always this charming?”

You could hear Ives snorting in response. “Oh no, mate, you’re getting a special treatment from her, all right.”

It took all of your self-control not to flip them off.

____________________________

“How is she?”

Ives closed the door and glared at The Protagonist, who was sitting on a sofa in the lounge area. “What do you think? She’s furious.”

The HQ’s common room was unusually empty. Besides them, only Wheeler decided to spend her afternoon there. She glanced at Ives from her armchair and waved, burying her nose in the tablet again. 

“I haven’t promised her that position,” said TP slowly as he watched Ives fall on one of the poufs. 

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“Changes enough.” The Protagonist tapped the fingers on his knee, considering the situation. “I need them to work together. And soon. Do you think she can get over it-- “ he stopped as he caught the look Ives shot him and sighed. “I see. Any ideas?”

Ives scoffed and sent another death stare at the man in front of him. “You tell me! You got us into this fucking mess!”

“Whoa, I’m still your boss!”

“My bad,” Ives cleared his throat, straightening his back. “You got us into this fucking mess… sir.”

The Protagonist snickered and shook his head. “Text her to meet you for drinks, I’ll bring Neil, “ - his eyes lit up - “I’m sure once they get to know each other they will figure it out somehow.”

“Worth a shot,” Ives said as his shoulders lifted in a shrug. 

A quiet snort coming from behind their colleague’s tablet caught them by surprise. 

“Something on your mind, Wheeler?” asked TP, raising his brows.

She shot them an unimpressed look.

“Good luck.”

____________________________

The bar was crowded and it only added to your annoyance. You noticed an opening at the counter and when you finally reached the spot, you sighed with relief. After everything that had happened, you really needed a drink. 

With the corner of your eye, you caught someone staring at you. You gazed at the ceiling, wondering what had you done to fuck up your karma so badly. 

Pressing your lips together, you glared at the man to your right. 

“Really? Of all the bars in this goddamn city...?” you said, not even trying to hide how done you were at that point.

Neil’s blue eyes were watching you curiously from under a slightly disheveled dirty blonde hair.  

“Believe it or not, it wasn’t my choice,” he chuckled and pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

Your eyes followed that direction to The Protagonist talking to Ives at the other side of the room. 

“Great,” you huffed as you waved at the bartender to get their attention, but to no effect. 

Neil’s intense stare combined with the way he nonchalantly leaned against the counter was slowly getting on your nerves.

“I saw you in the field today. You’re quite a sharpshooter.”

A smug grin crept on your face as you batted your eyelashes at him. “Why, you’re looking for a tutor?”

As he scoffed and looked away, your eyes lingered on his clenched jaw with satisfaction. 

“What’s your problem?” he asked, fixing his gaze on you again.

It was your turn to tighten your expression.

Oh honey, where should we start? 

“I don’t have one,” you said as you schooled your features.

“Oh please,” he laughed dryly with a roguish twinkle in his eyes. “You don’t even know me, and yet you’ve already decided you dislike me.”

Your lips curled with icy contempt. “Must be something in your face, blondie.”

Neil lifted a brow and gave you a half-smile. “Blimey.” He signaled the bartender and, of course, got an immediate reaction. “One vodka tonic and one-- ...no, wait, let me guess,” - he raised a finger before you could speak up, looking you up and down - “...spicy margarita?”

You just stared at him, utterly perplexed. You couldn’t believe the nerve of this man. 

And that he actually got your usual order right. 

“Well?”

You wanted nothing more but to wipe that self-satisfied grin from his face. 

“No,” you muttered and switched your focus to the bartender who was waiting for your decision with a deadpan expression. “I’ll have a martini, thank you.” 

You drummed your fingers on the counter, trying to ignore your companion. But when you heard a throaty giggle, you sighed dramatically and turned his way.

“What now?”

Neil leaned your way, close enough for you to catch the woody and spicy tones of his cologne.

He narrowed his eyes and smacked the tongue. “You’re full of shit.”

“And you’re full of yourself,” you sneered, flashing your teeth. You took your drink from the counter. ”Evens out, I guess.”

A smile dangled on the corner of his lips as he raised his glass. “Enjoy your martini.” 

The smug bastard.

You grimaced in response and mirrored his gesture. 

“I intend to!” 

As you made your way to Ives, now standing alone on the other side of the bar, you took a sip from your drink. Your face twisted in disgust. Bloody hell.

Ives furrowed his brows as he noticed your unusual choice of beverage. He sniffed your glass and scoffed. “What the fuck are you having, eh?”

Of course, he still remembered how much you hated vermouth.

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Don’t ask.” 

____________________________

The common room in the early morning was full of half-asleep people, waiting for the first round of training.

The matchmaking masterminds met over the coffee machine and exchanged tired looks.

“Well, that was a disaster,” The Protagonist sighed and rubbed his face.

Ives grunted in agreement as he poured coffee into his cup.

“You guys are morons.”

TP and Ives glanced at Wheeler, who only then realized she’d said her thoughts out loud. 

Her back straightened as she added quickly, “With all due respect.” Her heels clicked together. “Sir.”

Ives chuckled as The Protagonist gestured to encourage her to speak freely. 

“How so?”

Wheeler relaxed and crossed her arms. “She hates his guts, yet you lure her into a meeting with him,” she said slowly, baffled that she had to explain something so basic to them. “I imagine she’s even more pissed off than she was before and, on top of that, from now on she doesn’t trust any of you.” She paused, letting her words sink in.

Both men stared at her in disbelief. 

The Protagonist slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Do you have a better idea?”

Wheeler’s eyes flared up.

“Actually, I have a few.”

(next chapter ->)

[memoriashell]

first impressions ( are they pointless if fate has already decided? )

Characters /  Pairing: Fukawa Touko/Naegi Komaru, ( implied ) Syo / Komaru

crossposted on ao3

Notes: day 7 of @tokomaruweek​!! soulmate prompt.

sorry if i manage to absolutely fuck up posting this one i'm half awake rn.

i appreciate how unrealistic and improbably soulmate aus are. anyways i knew i wanted to play with this idea as soon as i saw the prompt. i think that bodyswap au has interesting potential. the bodyswap soulmate au in the specific sense that you’d theoretically get to see the kind of hardships your fated might be going through but that’s not really the angle i took on it here but i mean do any of us want komaru to face abuse and bullying? no. i cannot comit to that. someone else can do that i am going to live here angst free anyways in case it isn't obvious the basis premises around this is that once you come of age, you swap bodies with your soulmate. HONESTLY not sure how a body swap au would work w/ a did person but considering that every alter / identity is considered their own person, i figured that it would simply just swap w/ the host, meaning any alters would be left behind. i do think it'd be an interesting concept to play with, maybe?

tw for trauma / abuse ( /ive parents )

Summary:  most circumstances to figure out the identity of your soulmate are pretty unfortunate, but she thinks this one might take the proverbial cake in some regard.

For most people, this would be the kind of momentous occasion that people would count down to. For Touko, it catches her completely off guard because she hardly registers the fact that her birthday is coming up until the day it happens.

‘It’ being the day she comes of age and is supposed to find out who her soulmate is.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t think about this kind of stuff on occasion. It was kind of a given, with her entire shtick of being a romance author. But quite frankly, she tries to forget it, because really? Soulmates? For someone like her? Not likely.

Who would want to be stuck with someone like her? Best not to get her hopes up too much, and stick to unrequited crushes on people she knows she’s probably not destined for.

The sound of an unfamiliar alarm is what wakes her up— Touko doesn’t really process anything more than trying to turn it off and laying down for a few minutes. And then realizes her body doesn’t quite feel right. Empty. Something’s missing and it’s too quiet and it all feels horribly wrong. And then opening her eyes and realizing she can see perfectly fine without her glasses.

Oh. Oh no. No no no no no.

She hops out of bed and spots a phone ( thank christ ) and confirms her fears. Right. It’s her birthday. Thank god she doesn’t need to know a passcode to figure out that information. Well, nothing she can do about that. Time to sleep off today, so she can go back to living her life normally, soulmate-free.

Or well, that is what she plans to do, until a picture frame catches her attention from the corner of her eye, and— oh. Oh no? Oh no. She absolutely recognizes one of the two people in the picture. She presumes the girl is the one whose body she’s currently inhabits ( nothing particularly special to note there, plain as plain can be ). The boy— she loathes that nonchalant, easygoing expression— the boy she recognizes as her classmate. One Makoto Naegi.

God, it’d be just her luck, huh. Speaking of which—

“Komaru!” Ah, so that’s her name. She hears a shout from downstairs, followed by footsteps. “You’re going to be late!”

Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

In a panic, she sprints to dive back under the covers and pretends to be asleep still. Maybe she’ll get off without much of a punishment that way? Definitely less than the realization that she’d been awake and not getting ready for...school, presumably. She has no clue what this girl is usually like, but hopes that it isn’t painfully obvious what is going on here.

“Komaru?” The voice is closer this time, the sound of the door opening follows close behind. While she panics over the thought of what to do asides from pretending like she’s asleep, Touko misses the sound of footsteps approaching and flinches when the covers are tugged away from her head. She doesn’t mean to let out a whimper of fear when a hand comes down on her forehead, teeth clenched, not that the sound is interpreted as fear. “Are you feeling all right, dear? You’re not feverish, but you are a little sweaty...”

It takes her a moment to recognize the tone of this woman’s voice is one of concern, an incredibly foreign concept for her to expect from any parent ( she’s presuming this is the mother ). It certainly was never one she’d expected to hear from her own mothers, squeezing her eyes shut as if to ignore the truth. “N-No...” It’s not a lie, at least— all of this makes her feel sick to her stomach.

( It leaves an awful taste in her mouth, knowing the love that she is being shown here is just an illusion; not meant for her at all. And yet Touko wants something that she has never had. What an awful child she is )

“Why don’t you take it easy for today, then? If you feel no better later, you can start taking medicine.” She manages to utter a thank you, whatever will get her with no repercussions and left alone again, and there is a hand gently stroking back her hair before she is alone again.

Once ‘her’ mother leaves, she locks the door and buries herself under the blankets, so she can sleep and forget about today ever happening.

In comparison, Komaru Naegi finds herself having a much less than pleasant awakening. In that she doesn’t know what wakes her up, just that she is suddenly, forcibly awakened and in a room she doesn’t recognize.

Weird. Is she dreaming? It kind of feels that way, because she has no control over the body she currently resides in, marching over to the desk and reaches into the draw for...a pair of scissors? Really, really sharp scissors, but a pair of scissors nonetheless.

It’s not a dream. Get out. They hiss at her, scissors pointed at her— themselves? Oh boy. Uh.

“I don’t think I can do that.” She says aloud; wincing. “I don’t— I don’t know what’s going on...?”

Ugh. You think I know any better? ( Yes! Yes she does!! ) It’s totally bullshit that this is my wake-up call after ages, and she’s not even awake and instead I’m stuck with you? Ah. Shit, hold on a second how long has it been. They reach for the calendar, and she feels her face frown. Aw, it hasn’t been that long? She really forgot her own birthday coming up? Some heads up would’ve been nice instead of just waking up to this fucking mess. The voice continues to complain.

“Um...” She hates to interrupt, but she’s still pretty confused. “What do you mean? Who are you?”

You’re expecting me to just give that up without knowing your own name? Or do you not care?

“Sorry!” And she is, given that she’d kind of gotten ahead of herself. “Komaru. Komaru Naegi. But just Komaru is fine!”

Ah— Naegi? What are the odds— Dekomaru it is!

“What? That’s not my name at all!” Komaru completely manages to miss the faint recognition, huffing a pout. “And I told you, so answer my questions!”

Syo. And what I mean is that now I’m stuck explaining this shit— did you seriously not pay attention to any of that or are you that dumb? Geeze, listen to me this time. Okay, so we can have a lesson on proper terms and all that shit another time, long and short of it is that we share this body— miss gloomy and I. It’s technically her coming of age birthday today, which is why you’re here instead of her.

“Oh, okay.” Komaru nods along in agreeably, before her mind catches up and process the implications of what she’s been told. ���Wait, you mean I— she— this is my soulmate?!” Her voice cracks as it pitches, hands quick to clasp out of her mouth, a little worriedly.

Yeah, obviously. And don’t worry, the rooms are soundproof. Otherwise, I would’ve already told you to stop replying out loud. People would think that’s weird. They sound amused, reaching back towards the table and fumbles around for a moment before raising something up into the field of their view.

This is a student ID card, which provides her with several helpful bits of information— none of which Komaru chooses to fixate on. “...Hope’s Peak?” What were the chances of that?

Focus, idiot. Do you have any idea of what this means?

Komaru beams, an expression that might have been frightening for anyone else to see on this face. “It means I can be a Hope’s Peak student for today!”

No. Ouch, that’s probably the most cold they’ve sounded so far. Which is saying a lot, considering how they’d greeted her. Well, maybe. I know she really wouldn’t like it if you went around in our body. She doesn’t like it when I force control over our body either, but if it’s you then she probably won’t care. Personally, I don’t give two fucks— I can give you tips on acting more like her if you want.

Komaru makes a face. “I’m bad at acting. Am I really that different?”

Given that you don’t shut up, yes. That’s not a bad thing. They add on when they seem to sense the indignation rising in her. You really want to go around like normal today?

“Please?” She begs in what is sure to not be the last time that Syo enables her in doing something she probably shouldn’t do.

Okay! You’re more fun to have to share with than madam morose. This is way more chaotic. If things go wrong, I’ll help you cover up.

Komaru thinks that’s supposed to be a compliment. Or flattery? Either way, she enthusiastically takes to observing her appearance in the mirror for a good several minutes— more than several, but who’s keeping track? Syo. Syo is— before they point out they’ll be late for class and still haven’t had breakfast. But Komaru really only registers late and class and grabs her bag and rushes out into the hall, only to realize she didn’t really know where she was supposed to be going.

Syo sighs at her and directs her in the right direction of their locker and then their class while Komaru considers what’s the best way to seem cool if she can’t technically be herself. And also try not to nervously overthink things. That is also a thing she tries to avoid.

You know it’s weird that we’re going to class early, right?

“It’s fine...!” She grumbles. I can’t help but be excited, okay? It’s not everyday I get to pretend to be attended one of the most prestigious schools in the country.

Uh huh. Okay. I don’t think it’s really ‘cool’ to be this early to class, but.. Syo snickers at her, and she pouts before opting to ignore them, gathering her nerves before ( with more confidence than the actual Touko Fukawa would ever muster ) pushing the door open and stepping inside the classroom.

And then the whole act cool plan falls apart because while Komaru had registered the, we’re at Hope’s Peak Academy, she had failed to consider the whole, this is the school my brother goes to, I might run into my brother dilemma that she is immediately forced to acknowledge in a very graceful manner.

( And by gracefully she means she very embarrassingly screams at Makoto and Syo cackles at her, and she learns a very important lesson on why she should not trust Syo so easily )

Unfortunately for Touko, her body refuses to sleep much, which means she is wide awake when someone tries to come into the room just after four. Clearly not giving up, a knock soon follows, and, “Fukawa-san? Can you let us in?”

And then the sound of her own voice, way too cheery for her own liking. “No one else is home right now, so you don’t need to worry about it. Please? I really want to meet you! Uhm, properly.” Silence follows, since Touko makes no attempt to acknowledge that- if she pretends to sleep, then they’ve got to give up eventually. Even if she can only run away for so long, given that Makoto will probably just confront her tomorrow if she doesn’t. “Uh, Syo-san says they’ll take matters into their own hands if you don’t...? I’m not really sure what that means, but...” Makoto makes a panicked noise and god damn it Syo. She hadn’t counted on Syo working against her as well. Should she have expected that from them? Eh.

( It might speak more about the other girl, if she’d managed to get something like Syo’s...approval? That doesn’t seem quite right, and feels weird to think about either way )

“Give me a moment.” She calls, just to make sure Syo doesn’t go ahead and try and start picking the lock or break a window or something else that’s drastic and unnecessary. Takes a deep breath as she pulls herself out of bed, doesn’t bother double-checking if she seems too presentable and trudges over to unlock the door.

No sooner than she does so, the door swings open cautiously— Touko manages to sidestep out of the way before she needs to worry about being hit by it. She can feel the other’s gaze focus in on her almost immediately, but she very pointedly decides to not meet her gaze, mostly because it feels weird to be looking at herself, and looks at the same bookcase she has been staring at for the past four hours straight.

( Manga. She hates it. Of course, she would be stuck with someone that loves something that she practically loathes. She also hates the fact that she’d also been so bored that she’d almost considered reading it )

The only thing she chooses to acknowledge is the fact that her hair is down and not braided, really could she not have put forth even that much effort— and that while having her in front of her now is much different from what she might have thought it to be, she really has no idea of what to think of her.

And then the other seems to decide that enough is enough and holds her hands in hers very excitedly. She can only guess what Syo makes of all this. Schadenfreude, probably. She doesn’t actually say anything to her, just giggles to herself ( she’s not sure if she’s trying to be creepy, or if that laughter is directed at something Syo is saying ).

“Stop that...It’s w-w-weird to see my face doing that.” She gnaws on her lip— is this what everyone else saw all day? That’s awful.

As if reading her mind ( and certainly not the atmosphere of room ), Makoto helpfully chimes in, “Give her a break, she’s done a pretty good job trying to not attract any unwanted attention.”

“They made me skip class.” She pouts, crossing her arms. “Syo even said that they’d take the blame for it, but no, I had to skip out.”

“You screamed at me and scared Fujisaki-san? I was more relieved that Ishimaru-kun was willing to get you excused for the day.” Oh good, at least she can count on having reliable notes and not misplaced homework like with some people ( Syo ).

“It wasn’t that bad, Makoto, you’re making it seem worse than it was—”

“Because screaming like that could come off as good somehow?” He butts in.

“— and what’s done is done, so with that said, let’s eat!” She raises a bag that she’d failed t notice earlier. “I know it’s a little weird, but it’s still your birthday, so we can at least celebrate, right? I even asked Syo what you’d prefer the most while we were at the bakery.” That kind of disgustingly desperate face is all too fitting and completely foreign on her face, and Touko scowls at her.

It’s also a very foreign thought to actually be celebrating her birthday for once, and with a practical stranger nonetheless.

“Actually, I have a call I’m supposed to make. So I’ll be waiting downstairs, Komaru— we do have to get back at a reasonable time, so I’ll come back up if you’re staying too long, okay?” Makoto flees in the most inelegant way possible, fittingly.

Traitor, she wants to yell at him. She’s not quite being left alone here, because Syo is clearly present, but it’s not the same. She still feels a sense of betrayal here on all sides nonetheless.

“Touko-chan! Come sit with me!” Not that she gets any say in this, dragged along by her hand into following. She considers telling her off because when did she say that she was allowed to call her that? But bites her tongue for the moment because she’s still a little startled about the ease at which she has accepted all of...this, given the fact that she’s currently got Syo co-fronting. She suspects that they have arbitrarily elected to not acknowledge the elephant in the room which is very annoying to her, but she’s not really given a chance to acknowledge that either since a plate is shoved into her hands.

Fruit tart. So she’s not lying about the fact that Syo has taken a liking to her, apparently.

( No she’s not jealous over her own apparent soulmate. Why on earth would she envy that? )

“Fukawa-san?” Pale lavender eyes peer up at her, lips pursed in a small pout. “I know this isn’t the most ideal situation, and..I don’t expect you to warm up to me right away. But I’d like it if we could meet again sometime, as ourselves.”

Touko gives her a long look, scrutinizing, and then looks away. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay!” She’s quick to agree like she’d said yes; humming happily with a fork in her mouth ( which would be cuter if she didn't have to look at her own ugly face ).

[feel199x]

TO PROTECT OUR DISTRICT - CH. XV

SALT WATER WOUNDS & QUESTIONS GOD CAN’T ANSWER

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI

MASTERLIST

ceo!hwang hyunjin, mafia!au, mafia boss!hwang hyunjin

summary: take a shot of water every time you read kiss 

warnings: nightmares, gun use, general mafia shenanigans

 The air had grown humid. Your hair, still damp, stuck to your skin. The taste of sea salt burned your lungs, and sat deep on your tongue. The cement did not grow warm, or softer the longer you laid on it, staring at the sky. You were aware of how awkward and strange you must’ve looked, but you couldn’t make yourself care. The sky above was a sad, sagging shade of gray. What could be done? What could be said? You watched lightning tear the clouds in light, enveloping your vision, like you had swallowed it. Lightning always made you feel like anything was possible, another state of matter all on it’s own. Not solid, not liquid, not gas, not quite. You would forget to breathe, suddenly gasping for breath as the rain continued to drop.

 You sat up, staring at the cracks in the cement, where sprouts sat. You toyed with the small leaves, bent due to the large drops of water. You wonder if the earth ever knew of indulgence, ever understood what too much was. 

 You stood finally, everything seeming to stick to you. Your clothes, your hair, impossibly clinging to you. Another flash of lightning swallowed you up. You looked at Yugyeom, who was looking at you. 

 You think you love him.

 And you pray, you pray that you cannot love too much, as the earth never seems to overwater herself. 

 And wouldn’t you ruin it all by saying it out loud?

 He looked so pretty- so, so pretty. You were beginning to see him in a different light, that much you were aware of. You looked at him, looking at you. There was no way in the world he felt as strongly for you as you did for him. But here he was. He had rescued you. 

 It didn’t make sense.

 Maybe he was working for Sir Hwang.

 A pang of paranoia hit you, sobered you almost, or drunked you. He was good to you. Yugyeom wouldn’t- no he couldn’t hurt you. He would never, right?

 Right?

 He kept looking intently at you. His gaze soft, and kind. He would never. He could never. Yugyeom was different. And sure, you don’t know that many boys, haven’t had that many relationships with boys, but he’s different. You feel it. 

 “Yugyeom,” your voice trailed off, “Would you-,” your voice cracked like glass, “would you turn me into him?”

 Yugyeom looked like he was going to burst into tears at the mere implication and suggestion. “God,” he cried, “god, no. No, _____. You mean so much to me- so, so much. I-,” he stopped himself, “you’re just so important. So important to me. You have no idea. I will meet you in every single lifetime. I will find you. We will find each other. You’ve changed my life. I will follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“I,” you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You hadn’t known him for long. Could you say something like that, could you say it now? Better yet- would you? “Yugyeom. You will fill my heart for eons.”

 Yugyeom stood, and embraced you again. Smelling like salt. Like water. Like lightning. Like everything you loved and ignored, every delicate part of yourself that you repress. He didn’t care that you just took a swim in the middle of the storm and smelled like raging waters, he kissed your temple, and your cheek, and trailed down your jaw and pulled you into a fiery kiss. 

 And then he let you sit in the warmth of his chest. And he felt like a comfort you hadn’t known in a really long time. 

 But was it long enough? Since Hyunjin?

 You didn’t want to think about it.

 You looked over. Shifting your weight on either foot, and then, you noticed something. A car. A dingy car, a worn and aging car. But there was something. The tinted windows, the grips on the wheels. How shiny and fresh the rims looked. Before you could think, your fist was through the window, on his hair and pulling his head out the window. 

 “What the fuck are you doing here?”

 Jisung gasped, wiping the dripping blood off his chin. You grabbed a fistful of his hair, and he shouted, “Shit, give me a chance to explain, okay?”

 You let go, using the last of your self control to muster up some restraint. “Be my fucking guest.”

 “Sir Hwang, he- shit,” he wiped his nose again, “god, you punch hard.”

 “Get to the point Han, he what? Ordered you to watch me?”

 “Yes, but, I’m on your side.”

 You gave him a breathless laugh. “You honest to god expect me to believe that? Do you think that I’m that stupid? If you’ve told hat son of a bitch anything, fuck, Jisung, I swear I’ll kill you. And I won’t even think-.”

 “I know that you tried to kill yourself. And that Yugyeom stopped you. But Sir Hwang, he doesn’t. I just told him you’ve been losing your mind over killing someone. Some of it’s true.”

 The anger bubbled inside of you, the blood inside of your veins hot and burning. You started to breathe hard, your vision getting dizzy. It was too much. You didn’t want to talk about it. And you hated, you absolutely despised the idea that someone else, someone you didn’t choose, knew about what you were going through.

 “______, listen,” Jisung’s voice softened, “you’ve been going through a hard time. This, this is my way of helping you.”

 “What else do you know?”

“Nothing. I was assigned shortly after your assassination mission.”

 “I don’t believe you.”

 “I know. But you’re gonna have to trust me, we’re family.”

  Yugyeom had made his way to the behind of the car, hand on his hip, looking at you. You shook your head slightly, not moving your gaze from Jisung. You hadn’t even noticed him. 

 “You have all the reason to turn me in. Get a shiny golden star from Sir Hwang. Earn trust.”

 “You’re right. But, you and I, ____, we’re different. I want a life outside of here. I don’t,” his voice cracked, “I don’t want to hurt people anymore.”

 “I don’t want to see you ever again. This never happened, Jisung. Never.”

  “Listen to me, ____, listen,” Jisung got up, and opened the car door, and instinctively your hands flew to your hip, and you watched Yugyeom point the gun at him, “I am on your side. I don’t know what I can do to prove it to you.”

 “Just leave, Jisung. Leave. Forget about me, forget about this. Stop following me.”

 “I can’t.”

 “Because he won’t let you.”

  Jisung gave you a bitter smile. “I know my limits.”

 “Limits only exist if you give them to yourself.”

 “That is exactly where we differ. But that’s why I need you.” Jisung sighed, sitting back in the driver’s seat, “But, I’ll do you one better. I’ll do anything you ask me to do,” he paused and gave you a pointed look, “within reason, of course.” 

 “I’ll think about it.” you paused, breathing in, “But for right now, I want you to leave. ” 

 The car drove off, and you watched. Yugyeom got up from his squatting position. He put his hand on your shoulder and rubbed the tension out. He turned to you, moving his hand to the nape of your neck, “Let’s get you warm, yeah?”

 “Yeah, we have work to do.”

 “Or,” Yugyeom dragged his r’s, “we could get some take out and watch a movie?”

 You smiled at him, and put your hand on his chest. “You’re hot, but not that hot.”

  Yugyeom scoffed, “Please, I’m temptation incarnate.”

  You snorted. “You’re so stupid.

 “Well, you kissed me, so what does that say about you?”

 “Hm,” you sighed, “I guess we’re both pretty dumb.”

 “Nah, you’re pretty dumb. I’m here with you. I tricked you somehow, and that’s my life’s work.”

 You didn’t think twice- you’re not sure you even thought about it. Just watching him talk, staring at his lips, all you could do was lean in to kiss him. Yugyeom slid his hands to your waist, pulling you closer against him. He felt warm against you, stilling the slight tremble you had from the cold. He eased into the kiss, almost like he had initiated it. You backed up suddenly, feeling insecure. 

 “I’m sorry,” you blurted, “I’m sorry for that, for everything.” 

  Yugyeom didn’t move, but instead pressed his forehead against yours, wrapped his arms tighter around your waist. “Don’t. I like, I love, kissing you. Being around you. I’m glad we met, despite the circumstances.”

 You wrapped your arms around his neck, and then buried your head in his chest. “I want to go home,” you murmured, “I want to leave, run, go away.”

 He held tightly to you, putting his head on top of yours, “We could, but I don’t think that’s what you want, is it?”

 You sighed, “I don’t know.”

 The sky remained dark, the clouds and angry shade of gray. The downpour began to lessen, but drizzled here and there, increasing in intensity every once in a while. You and Yugyeom sat in the backseat of the car for a while, listening to the soft sound of the rain. Despite the small space, you laid on top of Yugyeom, resting your head on his shoulders as he hummed quietly. 

 There was a quiet conversation, about simple, little things. Childhood stories. Yugyeom told more stories about his friends.

 “There was one time,” Yugyeom retold, “I wanted to see how many pizzas I could eat before I got sick. So, when I was closing one night, and everyone left, I ate as many as I could. I ate six full pizzas in one go. Took me three hours. I felt so sick. My dad found me the next day on the floor, clutching my stomach.”

 “Did you throw up?”

 “Yes. So much. You have no idea. I felt like pizza grease.”

 “You terrify me, ‘gyeom. That’s absolutely beastly.”

 “I am indeed a force to be reckoned with.”

 You laughed, “You’re as soft as a marshmallow, ‘gyeom, don’t lie.”

 He tilted your face up, holding your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, pressing soft kisses onto you, deepening exponentially. 

 “What if,” you murmured, “you went in and saw your dad? Would that…,” your voice trailed, “would it be selfish?”

 You would give anything to see your parents again. And you hoped, in the most fantastical of fantasies, if they could give you one last hug, that they would. 

 “God,” Yugyeom’s voice cracked, “I would. But it’s too dangerous. And it would only put me in danger. It would put you- put us- in danger.”

 You looked up at him with teary eyes, “We can come back. When things are okay. And you’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

 “Yeah. We’ll be okay.” He kissed you again, a sort of sad, nostalgia sitting as a taste on his tongue.

  You pulled away and Yugyeom pouted, leaning in for another kiss, “One more,” you stated, “and we need to get going.”

 “Or,” Yugyeom held down your waist, “we could wait the storm out. Kiss a little more…”

 “You have an obsession, ‘gyeom.”

 “More like an addiction,” he pressed your lips against yours, “but I am also so obsessed.”

 You shook your head, giving him one last kiss, “Ten minutes.”

 “Two hours.”

 “Thirty minutes.”

 “Two hours and forty minutes.”

 You raised your eyebrows, “An hour.”

 “Two and a half hours.”

 “Fine!”

 Yugyeom smiled, “I win,” his grip tightened around your waist as he sat himself up against the car door. He stared at you wordlessly, watching you with a quiet smile on his face. “Have I ever told you how pretty you are? How smart? How bad ass?”

 “Only every second of your existence, ‘gyeom.”

 “Well, you’re pretty. And smart. And so badass. I just thought I’d remind you.”

  Yugyeom drove later that night. It was so serene, a peace different than you were used to. It was lovely, watching as he drove over a bridge and you could see all the stars reflecting on the lake. The drive was pleasant. Your mind was kept busy by Yugyeom’s rambling, and you were thankful for it. Otherwise, you would’ve lost your mind.

 Or what’s left of it.

 Work the next morning was spent with wistful gazes from Hyunjin, and little notes of encouragement that he would send you. Whenever you would leave your desk, for one reason or another, he would leave sticky notes with doodles or a daisy. He was just trying to make you smile, but guilt was stirring inside of you.

 But you had things to do. Things that were bigger than this. Than him. Than Yugyeom. Than you. At least that’s what you were going to tell yourself until you were forced to make a decision. 

 But what was exciting was the detour you took after work. 

“Yeji Hwang,” you said loudly, smiling at her as you stopped her in the middle of the sidewalk, “Could you spare a moment of your time?

Yeji scrunched her eyebrows. “Do I know you?”

 “No, not at all.”

 Yeji scoffed, “Weird ass,” she turned and started to walk away.

 “But I take it you know Sir Hwang? And perhaps his son, Hyunjin?”

 Yeji turned on her heels, clutching her bag and you watched as she walked back, her high ponytail swinging and bouncing as she made her steps forward. “Why didn’t you start with that?”

 You smiled, “You didn’t give me the chance to speak.”

 She tapped her foot impatiently, holding on to her clutch bag, “You’re not the guy they usually send.”

 “Change of plans. Coffee?”

 She eyed you carefully, and you knew exactly the look. She was trying to figure you out. You kept your face slightly blank, a polite smile and crinkled eyes. Not finding anything that seemed awry, she nodded.

 “Coffee sounds good.”

 You opened the cafe’s door, letting Yeji step inside first. Yeji set her bag on the chair, the premium leather and pearl strings shining in the cafe light. Resting your chin on the bridge of your hands, you tilted your head and looked at Yeji.

 “You’re a cop. But you cover for us. Isn’t that slightly immoral?”

 “What’s that supposed to mean? Look, if you’re from internal affairs-,”

 You shook your head, lifting your hair, and showing her the nape of your neck. “I’m not from internal affairs. Just making small talk is all.”

 She glared at you, but smiled sweetly at the waiter who came to take the order. “I’d like an americano and your most expensive piece of cake.”

 You looked up at the waiter, “A latte please, and I’ll have the same cake.” 

 Yeji raised her eyebrows, and crossed her legs, “What’re you here for?” 

 “To make a deal.”

 “Care to elaborate?”

 You laughed, “See, you’re a cop, but a dirty one. I need you to assist me with something, I need you,” you paused, “to turn against Sir Hwang.”

She got up, the chair scraping against the floor. “Fuck you.”

You got up, poised, with your hands folded, “You could become a scandal real quick. All of the nation knowing that you cleared up the tracks of a gang- you know it would never get out that the Hwangs are a mafia? And that you did it for money? Better yet, do you think I don’t know about your father?”

 Yeji poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue. She pursed her lips and sat back down, the bag slamming down on the floor. A few moments of silence was shared by the both of you. You wanted it to sink in, to make it uncomfortable. You stared at her, blinking slowly, letting her know that you were watching her. 

 “I could leave. Tell Sir Hwang about some bitch trying to get me to go rogue.”

 You slid out your phone, letting the audio of your conversation play. “And I could go to the press with this. And the police. You think Sir Hwang is gonna associate with you after that? You think that any of the police, the press could come close to him?” you paused, “Hero cop, Hwang Yeji, turns out to be dirty. Accepting money from local gangs. You would never win.”

 You smiled at the waiter as he came and dropped off the cakes and coffee. 

 “You started out so noble, wanting money for your father, help him recover from cancer. And then Sir Hwang comes in with the offer of a lifetime, save your father and live comfortably? Who wouldn’t take that deal? But you think the press is gonna understand that? The nation will vilify you, Yeji. You’ll rot in prison, and your dad will die, and you will have no one.”

 You took a sip from your latte, and smiled, “Absolutely no one. Maybe the loneliness will get to you and you’ll hang yourself with your bedsheet.”

 “I’ll do it. Just,” her voice cracked, “stop talking, please.”

 “Pleasure doing business with you.”

 You got up, and pushed your cake towards her. “I’ll keep in touch. See you soon.”

 And she let you, didn’t even look up to watch you stride away, just stared into the coffee mug and listened to the sound of your heels clicking against the floor all the way ‘til the door. She continued staring into her cup, as you glanced at her through the cafe’s window.

 You never said you wouldn’t play dirty.

 But that didn’t mean you felt awful.

 Absolutely awful. You stared at yourself in the mirror, pulling your hair back, inching forward then backward. You were a bad person. You were turning into Sir Hwang, you were just the same. You looked at the fading scar you had, remembering his fingers, the coldness of the water. You could hear the heavy quietness, the stillness of the water. Breathing hard, you clutched your head, and dropped to the floor. It was becoming more of a routine. You, on the floor, crying, and Yugyeom comes in, picking you up and humming a song for you to calm down. 

 You don’t know why he put up with you. Good must outweigh the bad, you suppose, but you weren’t even sure about that.

 Does he pity you?

 Does he feel bad for you?

 Is he working for Sir Hwang?

 Sleep. That’s what you needed. You would get some sleep and it would be okay. You smiled- because you were good at pretending, you were the best at pretending. 

 Things were gonna be okay.

 You snuggled into Yugyeom’s warmth- closing your eyes. His heartbeat was like the background instrumentals, the chorus, and the melodies of your favorite song. It was like choir singing. Powerful and soft, warm but loud. He was comfort. 

  Another nightmare. Your mother, a necklace of rope dangling down her body and pooling at her feet. She held dried roses, and a pungent smell enveloped you. Rot, over ripe and dry. A riot of rot. You started to fall through the earth suddenly, in cold ocean water, the salt flooding and burning up your nose. You looked down, the green of earth staring back up at you. Your mind spun, the world upside down, the sky bleeding blue, water surrounding the earth. You clawed at your throat, staring into the blinding light that swallowed you up, you were drowning, drowning and no one was around to help you. And as soon as you embraced the idea of death, the ocean sky spat you down, back to reality, back to earth, in the midst of a field. Yeji stood at the end of the field, and you ran, the grass scratching your feet, the salt water dew browning the green. Almost, you were almost there, until you slammed against a mirror, shattering, the glass cutting you up as you screamed, the sound of crackling glass so much louder than you could ever be. A gun sat in your lap, as you sat in the shards of glass, and you then you were watching yourself. You watched, as your doppelganger watched too. Both of you raised your deep sea, black shaded guns, and then all you saw was red. And then nothing.

 You screamed as you were awake, kept screaming, even as Yugyeom held you and rocked you. You thrashed, crying and crying until you couldn’t, falling limp like a ragdoll. 

  It had been hours. 

 Yugyeom was asleep, clinging to you. He fell asleep long ago. You stared at the ceiling, a faint haunting echo in your ears. You felt like you were spiraling out of control. You slipped out of Yugyeom’s hold, against your better judgement, against your judgement in general. The floor was cold to your bare foot, sending a wave of shock up your body. You froze, suddenly underwater, feeling Sir Hwang’s hand pushing you underwater. Breaking through the water, the memory, you came to again.

 You were bigger than all of this.

 What you were doing was bigger than any of this.

 Suddenly you could breathe, taking a big breath of air, filling up your lungs like you never had. Electrified, sparks hitting ocean currents. 

 Things were gonna be okay.

 You dreaded going to work. It was particularly distressing. It wasn’t like the feelings you had for Hyunjin had completely gone away. It felt wrong. Hyujin was clearly trying so hard to get back on your good side. And you still loved him. But you loved Yugyeom too. 

 What was really the kicker is that this shouldn’t even have been on your mind. Absolutely not. What should’ve taken all your brain space is what else you could do to dismantle and abolish the system that Sir Hwang and his predecessors created. And you have been planning, really- you have. But guilt was eating you up inside. 

 But you were only human, right?

 You were allowed to feel these things right?

 You weren’t so sure.

 Yugyeom could tell something was up. He looked at you with a softer, more questioning gaze. “I’m okay,” you told him, “don’t worry about me. Things are gonna be okay.”

 It was more for you than for him, but it convinced him anyway. You tucked your blouse into your pencil skirt and buttoned the very last button. 

  “You look very pretty, ____.”

 “Ah,” you were spun out of your thoughts, “thank you. You look very pretty too.” 

 He came up and wrapped his arms around your waist and sat his head in the crook of your neck, peppering kisses along the nape.

 “I’m gonna be late!” you squealed, refusing him as he came up for a kiss.

 “Just one?” he asked, “One good kiss and I’ll let you go.”

 “No, sir,” you replied, turning your face towards him, “I know how you are. One turns into ten and next thing you know, you’ve convinced me to stay in and cuddle, and then-”

 Taking advantage of your complaining and rambling, Yugyeom stole a kiss from you. He was always able to catch you off guard somehow. You had to be the one to pull away and upon pulling away, you were met with a very smug ‘gyeom who was about to lean in again.

 “Nope!”

 You unraveled yourself from the rope of his arms, shaking your head, “You have no limits.”

 “And! We have to get going.” you went to collect your purse, “Or we’re going to be late, and I hate being late.”

 Succumbing to your desires, Yugyeom trailed after you, following you to the car. The ride was nothing different. You bid goodbye to him and went on your usual route to work. Thankfully, due to some speeding, you would still be slightly early. Despite your wariness to see Hyunjin, you still had morals.

 Or, what was left of them anyways. 

 You pushed the button for the floor on the elevator and tried to ease the anxiety that was building up inside of you. The doors opened and you hesitated before stepping out. And there he was, waiting at your desk, fixing a vase of flowers next to your computer. 

 “______!”

 “Hey.”

 “I, uh,” he stammered, “I got these for you.”

 You didn’t recognize the flowers, but they were a vibrant array of flowers. “They’re pretty,” you murmured, delicately touching the petals.

 Hyunjin tapped his fingers against his thigh and you relaxed. Looking up at him, you moved closer.

 “What’s gotten into you?”

 “I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”

 “Why now?”

 “Because I realized I’m not a little kid anymore. And because I love you, _____.” Hyunjin sighed, “And I know that’s not fair to say. You deserve to be angry at me. You deserve space. I just want you to know that I’m here for you if or when you’re ready.”

 “Okay.”

 “And,” he shifted on his feet, his fingers reaching for yours, but stopping mid air- he’d never been this shy to touch you, so you reached out and grabbed his hand, earning a smile, “if you wanted to join me for lunch.”

 You nodded, and he let go of your hands.

 Can you drown in guilt?

 The day passed quickly. A note from Jisung gave you some revolutionary information, and a note you dropped off at Changbin’s desk along with some useless photocopies organized set things into stone. 

 And you couldn’t wait.

 But first? You had to tackle lunch with Hyunjin. 

 The time rolled around, and the time on your computer glared back at you. You loved Hyunjin, that much you knew. But you didn’t love the complicated gestures of love and the delicate intricacies of it. You just wanted things to work out. You wanted things to be okay. You wanted the option to fall into your lap so you weren’t forced to make that decision.

 “_____?”

 “I’ll be right there, just give me a moment.”

 You got up and smoothed your skirt. Hyunjin was watching you move towards his office with a huge puppy smile on his face. Deciding that you were taking too long, he pulled you into his office. “I got pan fried dumplings,” he said happily, “I know how much you love them.”

 “I would give anything in the world to eat as many dumplings as humanly possible.”

 “You could do it. I believe in you.”

 “Physically, I am capable,” you laughed, “but emotionally? It would ruin me.”

 It was pleasant. Hyunjin respected your space, sitting at a distance from you as you shared food. He made jokes, and you laughed. But he was only human. He stared at your lips often, tapping his fingers. You were no mind reader, but you knew he missed you.

 You missed him.

 And the guilt was killing you.

 “_____?”

“Yes, Hyunjin?”

“Can we,” he asked softly, “can we start over? Can you give me another chance?” His voice wavered, “Can I kiss you?”

 “Kiss me?”

 He nodded, “Just on the cheek, if you want. I just- I just miss touching you.”

 “On the cheek.” you approved. You’d be lying if some part of you didn’t miss it too. “But I need time. And space to figure it- this- out.” 

 Hyunjin leaned towards you, closing the space and encompassing the air that separated the two of you. He pressed his lips against your cheek and lingered there for a moment. And then you caved, turning your face towards him- and kissing him for real this time. Like you once did, and god, you’d be lying if you didn’t like it. That you didn’t love him. That it was just like the last kiss you remembered, just as good- if not better.

But you pulled away, and he looked so happy. 

 “We better eat,” you murmured.”

And eat you did. So much for figuring things out.

 You picked up Yugyeom, and he looked so excited to see you. “Tonight,” he clapped, “tonight is the big night and the start of our mission.”

 “You’re gonna meet a lot of new people, Yugyeom. And I’m scared that they’re not as trustworthy as they make themselves seem. But I need your hands.”

 “Hey,” his voice grew soft, “we’ve been over this. It’s gonna be okay.”

 It was late at night when you and Yugyeom climbed into the van. No one spoke. No one said anything. The van drove off, then stopped at where you needed to be. Your heart was still. You knew that you were trained for extreme situations, situations like this one. But it still surprised you. Does everyone else feel this way? Entirely calm? Not the slightest bit of anxiety?

 You were the first to climb out of the van, the gun not even heavy on your back. It was just an extension of yourself. The gun wasn’t the weapon.

 You were.

  It was like a switch had been flicked. You moved quickly and quietly. Blending into the darkness, you forgot that you were a human and not some machine of terror. It was like walking on air, walking on water, even. The AR that sat on your hip wasn’t heavy, almost like it was included in your own weight. You led the way, making your way to the center of the maze. You were sure it was intentional. It was exciting in a morbid way,  

  It shouldn’t have been so easy, the way you disarmed those men, the way you could make them crumple onto the floor like rag dolls. And in retrospect, it was scariest the way you didn;’t even think about it. It was something more, something less than instinct. You didn’t think twice, you didn’t even think about it. They became nothing more than a target, nothing more than something to get past. Taking the lead came natural, guiding the others through the maze. And then, after countless obstacles, there was the safe, the motherfucking jackpot. 

 Yugyeom and Jisung took out the several men standing in front of the gate, while you and Changbin worked on the locks. It took a few minutes, which was frustrating, but it could’ve been worse. Each lock only had one try before everything confined was dropped through the floors and sent away. To where, you only had a vague idea. Each one of the locks was a long series of random numbers, increasing in length each time. 

   Jeongin stood over your hunched figure, watching Jisung and Changbin carefully. His expression was dark and the gun was pointed ever so slightly. You’d never seen him like this. 

 Finally, a latch opened, and without thinking, you jumped down. You rolled onto your feet, and froze once you heard a loud click. The long corridor before you was lighting up with fluorescent lights. Something felt off. You looked over at Jeongin and watched as Changbin dropped down, and raised your eyebrows at them. Changbin starts to cross towards you but Jeongin separates the two of you with his gun. You let Jeongin and Changbin work it out and trek forward. Your steps are light, but you run anyhow. It wasn’t a trap. Not exactly. 

 Your breath caught in your throat. It was good. Almost too good. You breathed deeply, and your heartbeat slowed. You got this. 

 You got this.

 You got this. 

  And there it was. The last door. The plan you were given was slightly off, but considering that none of them had ever been here, the mistake was forgivable. You crouched down, staring at the metal door. It was just a latch. It seemed deceitful in a sense. But there was nothing wrong. Nothing entirely. You extended your hand, and in it, Yeji placed down a disposable camera. Holding in a breath, you unclasped it, and opened the door.

 And there it was.

  Cocaine fucking heaven. 

   But, of course, there were at least a dozen security enforcers just in your sight. Armed and dangerous, and hoping to get to blow someone’s head off on their shift to make the time go by.

And boy, they weren’t happy to see you.

 You let go of the breath you were holding, and moved quickly. The gunfire was almost serenading you. There was something festering in you- the adrenaline maybe. The hot blood coursing through your veins, your heart beat seeming to slow down, thumping in your ears like white noise. You lead the way, your gun aimed and shooting only to disarm.

 No deaths, you repeated in your head, I can not make that decision. 

 No deaths.

 No deaths.

 No deaths.

 You heard a cry, and started walking backward, letting who you assumed to be Chan take the lead. And all you could think of as you retreat is, please don’t be dead. You found Jeongin slightly limping, and he shook his head, nodding his head towards the front of the group. You signaled for Jisung to stay and guard the back, as you made the way back to the front, letting bullets rain as you moved. You turn to check on Yeji, taking pictures of all the packs of cocaine and such. She seemed fine, even giving you a thumbs up to confirm. Bodies dropped like flies, and you didn’t even think about it. 

 You were scaring yourself. 

 But even so, you couldn’t stop. Not now, not with how close you were. Above the drugs, there sitting high on the wall, was a number nine. You pulled out your disposable, and snapped a couple pictures. Now, you had to get out, and get out quick. Yugyeom and Chan had retreated to the maze. Since you hadn’t heard from Changbin, you assume the coast was clear, but there was an increasingly large fear in the back of your mind. 

 Then, it happened before you could process. A flurry of gunshots rang out, and you felt the floor before you knew what it was. You could feel the bullet in your leg.

 If it doesn’t get out of you soon- and by soon, you mean right the fuck now- you were gonna die. You crawled, somehow, behind the stacked pounds of paraphernalia. You could feel it expanding. You could only be grateful that it wasn’t a main artery. Resting your head against the paraphernalia you pulled up your black leggings, and felt around your calf. Just scathing. 

 You’re okay, it was just a scathe.

 Hollow Point. It was a Hollow Point. And if you don’t move- if you don’t move right the fuck now-

 You scrambled on your feet, moving fast as you could. Yeji had left. 

 They had left you behind. 

[ghostfiish]

Congrats on your level up! How are your stats? Learn any cool moves?

HP: +3 → 70

ATTACK:  +1 →35

DEFENSE: +1 →35

SP. ATK: +1 →50

SP. DEF: +3 →56

SPEED: +1 →35

NEW SKILL: Panic-Induced Focus. - Allows player to harness their anxiety to force a one-on-one with a single enemy out of many, and tackle it separately without distraction. Activate on your turn as a bonus action. Effects begin once the next initiative roll takes place, or immediately following the action if combat has already begun. Once the effects end, a short rest must be taken immediately. This skill can be used once per long rest.

Choose a creature. For the duration (up to ten mintues, until target runs out of hit points, or combat ends), you are locked in a solo battle against the chosen target. No interference or assistance can come from creatures other than the you or the chosen target; both you and the target can only attack each other. You take ½ damage you would normally take (racial bonuses and equipment effects included), and are immune to all status effects. However, all attack rolls and ability checks you make against the target have disadvantage (saving throws are unaffected). 

[hawkland]

Dear Fandom5k Author

My AO3 account (sidewinder)

Hello and thank you for writing for me! I’m excited to give this exchange a try for the first time and cannot wait to read what you can come up with for one of my requests. Please note I’d love any of them equally, no matter if I have more prompt ideas for one or the other. Some I seriously would love just about anything about since they are so rare, others I have more specific requests to scratch itches I haven’t seen written before (or that much.)

General Likes:

Soumates with a twist. I love soulmate/soulbond AUs, as long as it’s just not a shortcut to happily-ever, no-conflict fluff. I want there to be some difficulties or angst involved. For instance, I’d love seeing any fusion/inspired-by fics based off the concept of the AMC Soumates series - where there’s a newly-developed scientific test a person can choose to take to find their soulmate (if the other person out there has also taken the test). That way it’s a choice to find out or not. Would an already established couple want to take the test to find out if they’re really “meant” to be together or not? What if they find out other people are their “soulmates”? What about the possibility of platonic soulmates vs romantic? Discussions for the future if/when one partner dies before the other? I’d love to see these questions played out with one of my fave ships in either a  happy or somewhat angsty/dark way.

Vacation/travel stories. Being unable to travel this past year+ thanks to covid-19 has me desperate to explore and live vicariously through my favorite characters! So I’d love a story involving travel to somewhere new (to them). It could be a romantic getaway/honeymoon trip to somewhere special - and I love it when an author “takes me” to a favorite city/place of their own. Or two friends just going on an escapade together, maybe one sensing the other needs some time away from a stressful situation or workplace.

Smutty likes: I love extended kissing scenes, frottage, light restraint play, sharing-one-bed-for-~reasons~-ooops-how-did-we-wake-up-cuddling, bathing/caretaking an injured partner-turns-erotic, desperate/reunion sex.

Canon-divergent AUs - I’m always good with fix-its, shifts in canon that only change one thing and see what happens next or instead.

Do Not Wants:

A/B/O dynamics, mating heats. (I do like Supernatural fics that explore Castiel and the angels having bird-like behaviors and instincts, however.)

animal abuse/death

anything related to pregnancy/childbirth/kidfic (except for Jack in SPN)

formalized BDSM relationships

scat/watersports

unrequested alternative-universe scenarios such as high school/mundane/genderswap/coffee shop/fantasy/etc. There are a few ships/groups where I would enjoy specific AUs, and those are outlined below.

Completely sad endings/permanent character death or injury that isn’t part of canon

Rape/non-con between requested characters. Dubious consent is fine in situations like magic spells/possession/fuck-or-die, however.

Supernatural

AU - Canon Divergence, Character Development, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Fix-it fic, Interpersonal Drama, Smut, Angst, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural, Slice of Life, Worldbuilding, Horror

In general for SPN, I love canon-divergence AUs at pretty much any point in time (especially as they kept having so many dumb reasons in canon to keep Dean & Cas apart just when one or the other seriously needed support or TLC!) I’m okay with post-series Heaven fics as well as canon fix-its/completely ignoring the finale, and I like exploring both human!Cas as endgame or Cas keeping/getting his full angelic grace back (which is a slight preference to me, as he repeatedly seemed to genuinely value/want to be an angel? But exploring all possibilities in fic is cool for me.)

I’m a sucker for Castiel Whump/hurt!Cas in general, so long as the author remembers Cas is a bad ass and not just a baby in a trenchcoat. If he’s going to suffer, I want him to suffer stoically until he just cannot keep up the facade any longer.  

SPN-specific DNWs: mentions/implications of Wincest, past or present; extreme bashing/characterization of John and Mary Winchester, or Jimmy Nowak, as homophobic. 

Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Give me all the finale fix-it fics - no I’m still not over it, I’m still happy to read any new twist on how Cas got out of the Empty and got back together with Dean (and Sam). If Dean still dies early/ends up in Heaven, I’d like a story that explores what happens when one gets bored of peace-and-happiness-ever-after. (Yes, I’m a big fan of The Good Place and as such it makes me wonder if eternity with no conflict and everything you could ever want would just melt your brain and identity after a few millennia.) So what then?

I’m also stealing a Tumblr rant as a prompt I’d love to read, if you want to get into some good dirty smut:

ive had it up to here with fictional gays being like “i love you and if all i can ever have is that knowledge it’s enough for me” we need more “i have been struck down by horny insanity and i beg you to fuck me once. i’ve had three smirnoff ices and i’m gonna be crazy now. we can pretend it didn’t happen i don’t give a shit just gimme daddy’s blunt instrument” it’s more realistic [x]

Um so yeah. I’d love an au where, anywhere along the line when it’s been their/someone’s/the universe’s life on the life, Cas takes the initiative decides they’re gonna have crazy sex even if it’s just once before the end of the world/we die. But then, oops, we’ve survived, now we have to deal with it. ...Please?

For something different, maybe more romantic/fluffy, I’d really love a vacation/getaway story here, since they never really got anything like that of substance on the show. I want to see Cas take Dean somewhere beautiful and amazing in the world he’s never gotten to see before. Show him there’s more than just greasy diners and the landscape of America to enjoy and experience. If you want, they could stumble on a case/haunting/monster from another part of the world while they’re at it...but I just really want to see Dean having some mind-opening and expanding experiences beyond what’s he’s known and seen so far in life.

In specific with Cas/Dean + Sam, I love another tumblr idea I saw recently where Sam totally keeps bringing up the idea of “Sastiel” as a fun joke between him and Cas, and Cas plays along, and it drives Dean up the wall. Cas has to just keep re-assuring Dean that no, he doesn’t see Sam that way...but why does it bother Dean so much? A.k.a. Dean has to finally own up to the fact that it bothers him because he wants Cas to feel that way about him.

Castiel (Supernatural)

I just love Cas, period, end of story, he’s my One True Character of SPN. I love any stories that try to explore him more fully—be it his relationships in the past with other angels and being a BAMF commander/warrior of Heaven, or what specifically it is that keeps him so tied to the Winchesters. I love stories that feature his true-form in some fashion or try to dig into the alien/different nature of angels vs. humans.

Also, another Tumblr-musing-turned-prompt (I lost who posted it, sorry!) I'd love to see explored in a canon divergence fic focused on Cas. Specifically: 

"I would have loved an arc for Cas (after he got his grace back) where he wanted to help people, like he was helped. Spending time in soup kitchens or healing people, and through that developing a sense of self purpose, leading to his grace replenishing unexpectedly. Sort of fulfilling the traditional angel role (as we know it nowadays) by replacing his faith in heaven/dean with faith in himself, to redefine himself as a protector of humanity instead of heaven's soldier."

Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester & Jimmy Novak Group: Castiel & Jimmy Novak

We know Cas carried a lot of guilt for what happened to Jimmy and his whole family. So I'm interested in a post-finale, canon-compliant (I guess?) fic where Cas tries to reconcile things with Jimmy in Heaven. Maybe Jimmy & Amelia were one of his first "projects" or test cases in trying to build a new and better Heaven with Jack? (And it's what he was so busy with while Dean was still alive.) Or, is it weird in Heaven with Cas and Jimmy looking so similar? Does Cas still fight doubts as to whether Dean really loves him, or just desires this body/form that isn’t his own?

Otherwise, I've been thinking about Endverse!Cas, who had lost his grace/powers as the angels have all left and abandoned humankind. What happened to/where is Jimmy in all of that? (If we go by the canon that Jimmy was not killed, nor went to Heaven, until the end of Season 5, when Lucifer blew up that vessel and Cas was resurrected by Chuck.) Are they now two "mortal men"/souls trapped sharing one body? Is that why Cas is so messed up/always seeking an escape through drugs and sex? (Besides of course Dean having changed so much.) This is one prompt where I don’t mind a very dark/not-so-happily-ever-after ending.

The Police

Angst, Character Development, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Humor, Interpersonal Drama, Smut

Group: Sting/Stewart Copeland

Yeah I’ll always request these two together even though I know it’s a long shot to find anyone else as obsessed about them as I am. Really anything at all whatsoever would make me happy for this ship: Reunion Tour-era fic, early punk days before they grew successful, soulmate AUs...

I’d also love a spooky story where they’re on tour/on the road somewhere and end up in a haunted hotel. Or their tour bus/van breaks down in the middle of nowhere and they have to seek shelter in an abandoned house or farm or something...and supernatural weirdness ends up affecting them or bringing them together.

If you want to go the crack route: it wasn’t enough for Miles to take them all around the world to tour in “exotic” locations back in the day. He’s arranged for them now to go on the ultimate tour...of outer space and alien worlds.

Crossover Fandom

Action/Adventure, Character Development, Interpersonal Drama, Angst, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural

Group: Abe Morgan (Forever TV) & John Munch (L&O: SVU)

I’ve had a long running headcanon that these two could have been friends back in their respective 60s/early 70s hippie days. I’d love either a story set back then, “pre-canon”, or them running into each other in NYC later in life. Munch ending up in Abe’s antique shop, for instance, while on an investigation?  

Group: Dean Winchester (Supernatural) & Ezekiel Stone (Brimstone) Group: Castiel (Supernatural) & Ezekiel Stone (Brimstone)

I’m fascinated by the idea of crossing over these two canons. Even if there’s some conflict in their approach to Hell/Lucifer/demons, there’s still a lot in common. Dean & Ezekiel having both put in their time in Hell and being demon hunters, for instance, and their complicated relationships with (fallen) angels. I’d love to see them bonding over their experiences (Maybe they even meet in Hell? Time DOES work differently there…) Maybe somehow after Ezekiel completed his mission for the Devil, he did get his second chance at “life on Earth”…but the devil’s trick is that it’s not HIS Earth, it’s in a different dimension (Supernatural’s). I’m also curious how Ezekiel might respond to Castiel as an angel–perhaps he mistakes Cas for a demon at first, with his powers, but then they realize they are in fact hunting the same demon? Cas is stuck in an alternative dimension and recognizes Ezekiel as a similar soul to Dean’s, and seeks out his help?

Basically I’d love some kind of casefic/demon hunt here, with the characters bonding over their shared/similar past traumas, taking care of each other when/if injured on a hunt, and/or perhaps helping them sort out their complicated feelings for another (ie, background Cas/Dean and/or Zeke/the Devil are TOTALLY welcome here, as I ship both of those ships.)

Law & Order: SVU

Group: John Munch/Odafin "Fin" Tutuola

Character Development, Established Relationship, Humor, Getting Together, Interpersonal Drama, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural, Slice of Life, AU-Genre shift

Munch/Fin is one of my eternal OTPs so I’m always happy to see something new featuring them! I’m always good for procedural/case-fics. And this is one request where I’d love to read some AU-Genre or setting shift, reimagining the two in some other situations besides police work. I’ve always loved the idea of John hosting a conspiracy/weird news radio show or podcast, and Fin as someone completely skeptical but who gets wrapped up in one of John’s mysteries. Or John as the owner of a bar somewhere that Fin is one of his regulars, and over time their friendship develops/deepens into something more.

Supernatural RPF

Misha Collins/Jensen Ackles Established Relationship, Getting Together, Smut, Fluff, Slice of Life, Humor

It’s odd for me to be into an actor RPF fandom (I usually only fall for music/band-related ones), but what can I say...these two just make it almost impossible not to see the possibilities!

I was thinking I’d love something set post-Supernatural...their first time seeing each other again after a long time apart? (What with the show ending, covid, Misha’s surgery, etc etc.) Could be at a convention or maybe they get to go off on a getaway together somewhere private/romantic and it’s...kind of tense and maybe nervous/angsty at first? Like with doubts about whether they can/should go back to the way things were before.

Or: putting tin-hatty speculation about the “secret/real identity” of Alma Perpetua aside, I love their poetry and I’d love any “Cockles” fic using one of their poems as inspiration.

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 24: Secret Injury

(Don’t fall out of line yet.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 24: Secret Injury

Word Count: 1436

Relationships: Prinxiety (minor/background), Creativitwins (familial) NOT remrom :/

Warnings: Gunshot wound, blood, hiding a severe injury, serial killers, FBI/police stakeout, gunfight, minor character death, dissociation because of an injury, hospital/ER, mentions of needles/IVs/anesthesia and implications of surgery, cursing

A/N: sorry this is kinda shorter, i wrote it in like 20 minutes before i got unmotivated again hjfhsdjkhk anyway yeah excuse the shit quality of this. by the way this is absolutely inspired by criminal minds. what are you gonna do, shoot m

“Shit, Logan, watch out!” Roman yells out from somewhere to the left, and Logan just barely manages to jump out of the way before a desktop computer crashes into and explodes on the wall right where his head would’ve been. The FBI agent ducks down, scurries on tired legs to the other side of the hall, and then he lunges forward to take cover behind the nearest hallway intersection.

The person they’ve been chasing across states turned out to be not one, but three, a team of serial killers stirring up a panic within the country. They’ve easily been able to attack wherever they pleased, and considering the fact that it took the FBI 13 months and 17 victims to link the killings together, it’s safe to say that their confidence is high. The spree has led Logan’s team through five different states in pursuit of The Executioners (as dubbed by the media), being met with the signature single shot to the victims’ temple just moments too late. This particular case has been frustrating and tiring, and every member of the team has been embittered with how they always seem to be two steps behind these guys.

But now, after a fake anonymous tip, plenty of searching through case files, and epiphanies that could have come a lot sooner if not for human error, they’ve cornered the trio. The team staked out this building for days before they planned to rush the place, waiting for the right moment to take the killers by surprise and hopefully, into custody. Of course, as soon as they entered, a gunfight started, and one of the members of SWAT assisting them was gunned down by the one carrying an automatic. It’s easy to ignore the exhaustion caused by very few hours of sleep, but Logan really is just running on adrenaline at this point, and if they don’t corner these guys fast, he’s not going to make it through to the end of this.

Later, he’ll blame it on the lack of sleep. He’ll say his recklessness was a result of being tired, not thinking things through. He’ll tell Thomas that he wasn’t intentionally trying to ruin their chances, that he saw an opportunity and took it. Only one of those things is true, but their team leader doesn’t know that.

Logan barely feels the bullet lodge itself in his stomach, doesn’t flinch when his vest rides up to expose his abdomen. The pain is distant, numbed by his partial state of dissociation, and from there, tackling the smallest of the three killers is easy. Virgil has his back, nails the burly one in the forehead with his precise aim, and Remus gleefully jumps on the back of the last one before sticking the barrel of his pistol to the temple of his head. Ethan just barely manages to stop him from pulling the trigger, now that the threats have been neutralized, and Remus grumbles but begrudgingly allows Ethan to put the man in handcuffs. 

Everything after that goes by in a blur. The local authorities take the three out of the apartment, one in a bodybag and two in cuffs, and Logan doesn’t really see any of it. His lightheadedness is a big factor in the way he stumbles about, having a hard time finding balance with the bullet still inside of him, but he doesn’t seem to be losing that much blood, so Logan thinks that maybe he can get through at least the ride back to the station before he’ll need to ask to be taken to the hospital. It’s a bad idea, he knows it is, but right now he can’t even speak through his dry throat, so it’ll just have to wait.

Sitting down in one of the SUVs is like agony, and he manages to pass off his grunt of pain as the result of a punch to the ribs that never actually happened. Emile’s concern is waved off, and the beginning of the car ride is spent with the reality of the situation finally crashing down on them. Their celebration comes all at once, laughs of disbelief trailing off into relieved sighs, and Logan only watches them from the back with a pained grin as they all relax in their own ways. Roman clutches Virgil’s and Remus’ hands tightly, loving both of them for different reasons; the romantic and familial care he gives to them is palpable, something Logan is sure everyone around him appreciates. Remy and Emile chatter excitedly together over the phone as Remy details exactly what happened during and after the stakeout (Emile suffered a leg injury and hasn’t been cleared for work in the field just yet), and Thomas chuckles at them all from his position in the driver’s seat. Patton may deal with PR, but he still opted to come along to greet them after their confrontation, and his concern and care as he frets over any small injuries from the agents in the car is certainly appreciated by the others if not lightheartedly teased about.

And then there’s Logan, quiet and unnoticed, the one that nobody in the car even bothered to check on. He tells himself that it’s okay, that they’re just busy riding the high of the big arrest and they’re not ignoring him on purpose, but it still stings a little. Maybe even more than the gunshot wound currently staining his shirt.

Eventually, they pull up to the field office in this city, ready to go in and close off the case along with any other lingering details. Paperwork is another part of the process, but Logan has a feeling he won’t be doing any of that any time soon. Clambering out of the SUV hurts just as badly as it did going in, but Logan manages to make his way out as promptly as possible to ward off any suspicion. Really, he’d prefer to have everyone remain ignorant to his injury entirely so it may be dealt with in a quiet, quick, efficient manner, so being inconspicuous is imperative.

And that does work, for a while. It works when they walk up to the building, works when they’re congratulated as they go in the door, works when the stickiness of the blood hidden underneath his vest is completely overlooked. He’s fine when they stand at the front of the room, when Thomas goes up to explain a bit about the final stakeout and arrest to the officers present, when the chief of police praises their team leader for bringing The Executioners in after a long, long year of horrors and gruesome misfortune. They honor the deceased, extend condolences, and clap at the victory even as Logan feels his eyes glaze over with the effort to continue standing. Just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes.

But “a few more minutes” never comes, because as Thomas is in the middle of thanking the team members for their assistance and the local police force for their tremendous help in the case, Logan’s knees finally give out, and he goes crashing to the floor. He lays there, still and unmoving even as his name is shouted by many people, and the hands gripping his body feel so far away. He’s rolled over, Logan’s head lolls to the side, not physically able to be supported alone anymore. He’s in a cold sweat when his vest is lifted off of him and panicked shouts for medics arise from his team upon seeing the massive coating of blood soaked through most of the bottom of his shirt. 

His consciousness bleeds in and out, much like his wound, but it makes putting together a coherent timeline of events extremely difficult. To his best knowledge, he’s put into a car and raced to the hospital in an attempt to bypass the wait time for the ambulance, and the sunlight shining through the car windows does his headache no favours. Being carried, limp and shaking and covered in blood through the front entrance of the closest emergency room feels like a dream, like it isn’t really happening. Set onto a bed, rolled through bleached white corridors, mask on his face and nurse running by his side yelling out numbers and statistics and detriments alike. 

Logan is rolled into the operating room and he fades through the setup with a slackened jaw and dizzy mind, unable to pinpoint just how many needles are inserted into his arms. IVs, syringes, darkness and medicine… and the anesthesia finally hits, washes a cool breeze through his veins, and Logan is drifting off into unconsciousness.

[atmilliways]

👻 Nathan!

Okay, so I started with this non-human prompt meme, picked up most of Part I of this from a random prompt that passed by on my dash somewhere to get me started, and drew some ideas for Part III from @spys-art-blog‘s thoughts about godklok stuff. It DOES include Nathan talking to a ghost. It’s also a little like that thing that happened in fourth season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when suddenly Dawn is there, and always has been, and technically that’s new but she’s been retconned into everyone’s memories so no one questions it. 

~

I. Because One Day You May Be Called

It would forever baffle Charles as to how quickly things could go wrong. One minute he was driving along the familiar route between the office and home. The next, he was spinning out of control towards the concrete barrier at the end of the bridge, barely able to glimpse the truck that had decimated the right side of his car. In the short time it took for his hands to let go of the wheel and his car to reach the barrier, he’d managed to bang his head on something and gain a nice little cut along the side of his face. 

Then the car hit the barrier. The sudden stop made him imagine the entire world halting on its axis, his stomach lurching and his head spinning even faster now that he was no longer in motion with it. Groaning, he blindly reached out for some kind of surface, only then realizing his glasses had been flung from his face. The blurry interior of the car made him more disoriented, but he managed to locate the window and look up.

A dark shape was rushing towards him, too large to be a person. The truck, his mind supplied simply. The implications of what that rapidly approaching shape meant only clicked when it was a few feet away and he only had enough time to take a sharp breath in understanding.

II. To Meet The Mighty Gods

At first, it came as a shock when he regained consciousness. Okay, Charles thought, so I’m not dead. He felt as though he was floating, which he supposed meant he was safe in a hospital bed, wrapped in a soothing cocoon of pain medication, with medical attention only a call button press away. The second and far more lasting shock came when he opened his eyes. 

He actually was floating, cushioned by thin air about ten feet above the scene of the crash. What little he could see of the passenger car left little hope that the body inside was still intact, and yet, when he touched the numb skin of his cheek, there was red on his apparently solid fingertips. How could he bleed if he was already dead?

Everything was eerily silent. 

And he felt watched. The clusterfuck of snarled traffic rapidly lost his interest as the feeling intensified, as though eyes were boring into him from several different directions at once, pinning him in place. 

Charles whipped his head around, half expecting to see… what? There was nothing. Just a sweeping view of ocean, glittering and blue and deep. The freeway had been built atop steep cliffs, and from where he hovered it seemed that one impatient shrug of the earth was all it would take to tumble the entire ribbon of asphalt and cars into the churning water. Golds, oranges, and reds bled into everything from the setting sun, painting everything but the pale sliver of rising moon with brilliant light. There was no wind, at least where Charles was. 

He’d driven home this way hundreds of times. Thousands. Yet, as he hung in the air above his mortal remains, he couldn’t remember ever taking a single moment to appreciate the view. 

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered. 

IT IS. 

He hadn’t realized that he hadn’t been breathing before. Funny what the lack of breath catching in sudden terror could tell you. And had he been straining his eyes looking for whatever was watching him, or did the glints of reddish light catching on the ocean waves form the vague shape of a man? 

A man that seemed more real and more imaginary the longer he stared, far away and right there at the same time. Not a man — there was no way, it was too impossible. Whatever it was, it looked down at the wrecked vehicles below with an air of passive satisfaction. 

Then it turned it’s terrible gaze upon Charles with decidedly less passivity. Shadows fell across its face like long dark hair, or long strings of seaweed swaying in the current below the water’s surface, and that, Charles knew, was what had been watching him. 

It bared it’s shark teeth at him and asked, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? 

Charles opened his mouth, closed it, looked down at the rapidly drying blood on his fingers. “I, ah… I used to be someone,” he mumbled. “Now I’m dead.“ 

YOU ARE NOTHING. 

He found himself nodding. No family. No wife or kids, not even a girlfriend. Not even a pet. Riding a desk in a dead-end job that he’d had since graduating college with a degree in law that he’d never bothered to use, and was too apathetic to leave for anything better. There was no one to miss him, no way to claim that he’d made any sort of positive impression on the world before leaving it. Or even a negative one, for that matter. Nothing. 

“Yes,” he agreed quietly. 

WOULD YOU CHOSE TO BE MORE? 

Charles felt his heart leap at the suggestion, and that seemed to be answer enough. The apparition narrowed its glowing red eyes. It seemed pleased. 

SO BE IT. 

And suddenly there was wind, twisting and writhing around him like a bed of snakes, as though it had always been there but had been holding still, awaiting orders. The earth flew towards him and the sea rose up, the sun and moon grew huge in the sky, and Charles passed unto utter blackness as reality reknitted itself around him. 

III. Deep Within The Ocean

The ghost stood in the center of a cavernous office. Somewhere in the gloom above there were elaborate chandeliers, but most of the lightbulbs were broken and the only light of the setting sun came in weak streams between the boards nailed up over broken windows. It was deathly still, and the air tasted of ash and dust. 

He wasn’t sure what he was doing there, or how he knew he was a ghost. The longer he stood there the more he felt as though it was where he belonged. It was a nagging, annoying feeling, as though he had just been about to do something very important but forgotten what it was. Or… hadn’t been told yet?

A sudden crash behind him made him flinch, but just barely. 

“CHARLES,” someone roared. A man, very gravelly-voiced and very, very drunk. The ghost was distantly impressed that amidst all that stumbling he was still managing to keep his feet. “CHARLES, it’s me, NATHAN. Where… where the fuck…!” 

His dark green eyes fell on the ghost, who felt the impact as a full body jolt because he hadn’t expected to be seen. Apparently the man, Nathan, hadn’t exactly expected to see him either because he swayed to a stop. With one hand — the other still had a tight grip on a bottle of tequila — Nathan pushed long hair out of his face and squinted uncertainly. 

“Charles. Is that… You’re here?” Nathan looked up at the ceiling as though the broken chandeliers could offer some sort of explanation, then at his feet, then at his bottle, which he took a swig from. That seemed to strengthen his grasp on the situation. “I mean… You. Are here. Good.” He swayed. “I’ve got… There’s… fuckin’ problems.” 

“I see,” the ghost replied, and cleared his throat. “Please, have a seat.” The hand gesture toward the big dust felt perfectly natural, though the ghost hadn’t previously paid much mind to the furniture before that moment. So did walking around the dominating piece of furniture and taking a seat, ignoring, for the moment, that there was a dust cover on the large wingback chair and he sank into it slightly without so much as a crinkle or rustle of fabric. 

Nathan trailed after him. Both of the chairs in front of the desks were on their sides, as though the same impact of whatever had blown the now shuttered windows in had knocked them over as well. He gamely put his bottle down and spent a minute clumsily righting one, then dropped into it with a huff and squinted again. 

“What was I talking about?” 

The ghost folded his hands before him on the dusty wooden surface. “I believe you mentioned having problems.” 

Nathan’s dower expression brightened a fraction as he remembered. “Fuck, yeah…” Then his face fell. “It’s all fucked up. All the… money, and… You… We’re broke.” 

He retrieved his bottle and sipped from it, shoulders slumped and looking older than the ghost thought he should — not that the ghost knew what his age actually was. But there was a dawning familiarity building up in the back of his mind, like a favorite, nearly forgotten tune just in the edge of hearing. 

“It’s hard,” Nathan confided, slumping further towards the desk. “It’s really… hard without you. I don’t know how to do this shit. Press releases and financial… fuckin’… bullshit…” 

Yes, the ghost thought, I remember this. Did he, though? Or had the information just arrived his head? He couldn’t remember. Absently, he adjusted his glasses and rubbed his fingertips against the side of his face, tracing a scar that ran from cheekbone to jaw. 

It didn’t matter. There was a job to do, and he was the best man for it. 

“I’m sure we can sort this out,” Charles said firmly. “Walk me through it.” 

IV. And If You’re Not Prepared

Air slammed into his lungs, accompanied by the sting of pins and needles in… well, everything. 

Charles remembered reading once that many bodily functions — digestion, for example — were quite painful, but the human nervous system was wired to tell the conscious mind to ignore it. For a moment, he felt every cubic inch of his body, and could ignore none of it. 

When the feeling passed and the echoes of his hoarse screams died away, Charles tried to sit up and was gently pushed back down. 

“Be still,” a soothing, age-worn voice told him. “The Gods of the Klok have restored you, but at great cost. It will be some time before you are truly whole again.” 

Charles allowed himself to fall back into the soft bed, secretly relieved. “What happened,” he croaked. 

“They have chosen you to be their champion, and made it so that it has always been so,” the old man told him solemnly. 

He remembered the ocean and broken glass. 

“You are the Dead Man.” 

He remembered talking to something that looked like Nathan, and then remembering who Nathan was after the fact, because… because…

“In time, you will forget that it was any other way.” 

V. Your Soul Will Not Be Spared

Thousands of leagues away, in a dragon-shaped mansion hovering miles above sea level, Nathan Explosion woke with his cheek resting on a puddle of tequila-drool. He lifted his head and immediately regretted it. 

“Dood, wake up!” Pickles was shaking his shoulder. “Don’t know what you’re doin’ in’ere anyway, it’s still a disaster area in this wing…” 

“Wha…?” Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like they were about two sizes to large for his head, and tried to focus on where ‘in here’ was. 

He had been… What had he been doing? 

There had been drinking, obviously. And then he’d wandered around, pacing down up and down the halls until he’d arrived at their manager’s office. 

“I was. Uh. Talking to Charles about… money?” he guessed. As he said it, the memory solidified somewhat in his head. “Yeah. Money.” 

Pickles’ stopped shaking his arm and frowned. “Nat’n, that’s impossible. Ofdensen’s d… He hamburger timed. Remember?” 

“But I…” Nathan froze halfway towards wiping the gross spit off his face. He’d just gotten so used to Charles being there all those years that he’d stormed in blind drunk and… passed out and dreamed the whole thing, apparently, because the man was dead. They’d had a funeral pyre and everything; there was no way what he remembered could have actually happened. 

Unless it was a ghost, Nathan thought despondently. But what were the chances of that? 

While he was still mulling that over, Pickles sighed and shook his head. “Dood, ya really gotta lay off the tequila. Now c’mon, this place ain’t gonna remodel itself. I think I’ve almost got the hang of that circular saw thing…”