#so many deaths happen under your reign

[pucksandpower]

Blackmail Material

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you love your boyfriend more than life itself but who can blame you for keeping a folder of all the blackmail material he has given you over the years … just in case

You hear a bloodcurdling scream from the other room. “Y/N! Come quick!” Charles yells.

You rush over to find him standing on top of the couch, a look of sheer terror on his face. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

He points a shaky finger at the floor. “Sp-spider!”

You look down to see a tiny little spider no bigger than a blueberry crawling across the hardwood. You have to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of your brave Formula 1 driver boyfriend absolutely losing it over this tiny critter.

“Really? That’s what all the fuss is about?” You don’t bother to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“Don’t laugh!” He says indignantly. “It’s a monster! Kill it, please!”

You kneel down and take a closer look at the offending arachnid. “Aww, it’s just a little jumping spider,” you say. “It’s actually kind of cute.”

Charles makes a strangled sound of disbelief. “Cute? It’s a beast from the depths of hell! I want it gone!”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “You race cars at over 300 kilometers per hour, but you’re scared of a little spider barely bigger than a piece of lint?”

“Yes! Spiders are my worst fear. Now stop teasing me and get rid of it!” He gives you his best pleading look from his perch on top of the couch.

“Alright, alright,” you acquiesce, grabbing an empty glass from the coffee table. You gently trap the spider under it and slide a piece of cardstock underneath, trapping the spider safely.

“Is it dead? Please tell me you killed it,” Charles asks hopefully.

“Of course not, I’m just going to let it go outside. Spiders are good, they eat other bugs.”

Charles visibly shudders. “Well get it out of here! I don’t want to see it ever again.”

You carry the spider carefully to the sliding door and release it on the balcony. When you come back inside, Charles is still standing on the couch looking suspiciously around at the floor.

“The horrible beast has been banished, you can come down now,” you say.

He hesitantly steps back down onto the floor. “Are you sure it’s gone? You didn’t just give it free reign to run wild in the apartment?”

You try and fail to hold back a laugh. “Yes, I’m sure. Your life is no longer in peril.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “This isn’t funny! Spiders are evil creatures with too many legs and eyes. They should not exist.”

You go over and wrap your arms around him comfortingly, though you’re still struggling not to giggle. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But you have to admit, it’s kind of silly that someone who races cars at death-defying speeds could be so terrified of a tiny spider.”

He huffs indignantly. “It’s a completely rational fear. They’re all legs and eyes and they move so fast and erratically and some of them can be venomous. Absolutely horrifying.”

You smile indulgently and kiss his cheek. “Okay, I get it. I promise I’ll protect you if any more evil spiders invade our home.”

“Thank you,” he says, finally relaxing into your arms now that the threat has passed.

But you just can’t resist teasing him a little more. “It was just so small!”

He pulls back and gives you an unamused look. “You’re not going to let this go anytime soon, are you?”

You grin impishly. “Letting my big macho boyfriend stand on the couch and scream because of a teeny tiny spider? Yeah, probably not gonna let you live this one down for a while.”

Charles groans. “This is so unfair. The guys will never let me hear the end of it if they find out.”

You pat his shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone that Charles Leclerc is terrified of itsy bitsy spiders.”

And if you happened to save evidence of his freak out just in case? Well … it’s not technically telling anyone unless you share the video.

***

You can’t help but grin as Charles paces back and forth in your New York hotel room, running his hands through his hair in distress.

“Chill out babe, I’m sure the airline will find your luggage soon,” you try to soothe him.

Charles whips around, eyes wide. “Chill out? How can I chill out when my La Mer is missing? Do you have any idea how long it took me to perfect my skincare routine?”

You stifle a laugh at his dramatics. “I mean, it’s just skincare products. Not the end of the world.”

“Just skincare products?” Charles looks at you in horror. “That’s like saying a Ferrari is just a car! La Mer is the cream of the crop, the holy grail of skin care! My face needs it to survive!”

You can’t hold back your grin anymore. “Wow, didn’t realize I was dating such a high maintenance diva,” you tease.

Charles huffs, crossing his arms. “I am not high maintenance, I just have discerning taste and an appreciation for quality.”

“Uh huh, sure,” you say. “Is that why you made us stop at three different Whole Foods on the way here from the airport until you found your favorite protein shake?”

“That is completely different,” Charles protests. “My skin is very sensitive, I can’t just use any old drugstore products.”

You laugh and pull Charles onto the couch next to you. “You’re cute when you pout.”

He tries to keep a straight face but ends up cracking a smile. “I can’t help it, I’m freaking out! Do you know how dry airplanes are? My skin is going to be a flaky desert by tomorrow.”

You run a hand through his hair. “Aww poor baby. However will you cope without your six hundred dollar moisturizer?”

Charles narrows his eyes at you. “You joke, but this is serious stuff. Do you want a boyfriend with wrinkles and acne?”

“I mean, a few wrinkles never hurt anyone,” you say, kissing his cheek.

He gasps dramatically. “Don’t even joke about that! I’ll be twenty seven soon, wrinkle prevention needs to start now.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Most twenty seven year olds aren’t this worried about wrinkles. But I guess Formula 1 drivers really are high maintenance.”

“With good reason! We can’t have crows feet interfering with our vision,” Charles says matter-of-factly.

You give him a look. “You’re just making things up now.”

Charles holds your hands, looking deeply into your eyes. “Mon amour, you must understand. Athletes age in dog years. We need anti-aging products just to keep up.”

You burst out laughing, shoving him playfully. “You’re so full of it!”

Charles grins cheekily. “But you love me anyway.”

You lean in and give him a soft kiss. “Yeah I do. Even if you are a high maintenance diva.”

Charles puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I thought girlfriends were supposed to be supportive! My skincare is obviously very important to me.”

You snuggle up next to him, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Tell me all about this super special moisturizer.”

His eyes light up. “Well first of all it contains like crushed up diamonds or something. And they freeze each jar before shipping it to keep the ingredients ultra fresh.”

You make a mental note to Google this later, since it sounds completely absurd that diamonds would be an effective skincare ingredient. Though with Charles, you can never be too sure.

“Uh huh, diamonds. That’s totally normal,” you say, playing along.

“Exactly! And the founder makes sure each jar charges under the energy of a full moon before it’s sold. It’s really an intricate artisanal process.” Charles sighs longingly.

You smile and kiss his pouting lips. “You’re cute. I promise your skin will survive one night without magic moon diamonds.”

Charles snuggles against your shoulder. “I know, I know. Skincare is just part of my routine, it makes me feel relaxed and put together. And smelling like citrus blossoms is an added bonus.”

You kiss the top of his head. “I get that. Hopefully the airline finds your stuff soon. But in the meantime, want me to see if anyone sells La Mer nearby?”

Charles perks up. “Ooh yes, let’s check! I saw they have a Dior down the block too.”

You laugh and take his hand. “Of course they do. Come on, let’s go spoil you with new overpriced skincare products until yours turn up.”

***

You walk into the kitchen and see your boyfriend standing at the counter, a pile of uncooked spaghetti next to him. He takes a portion in his hand … which he proceeds to snap in half before dropping it into the pot of boiling water on the stove.

“Charles! What are you doing?” You exclaim in shock.

He turns to you, confused. “What do you mean? I’m just making sure the pasta will fit better in the pot.”

“But you can’t break spaghetti before cooking it!” You say incredulously. “That’s like a cardinal sin in Italy!”

Charles laughs. “Oh come on, it’s not that big of a deal. The pasta will cook just fine this way.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Il Predestinato is out here breaking pasta. Do you have any idea how offensive Italians would find this?”

“I’m sure they will survive the absolute tragedy of some broken spaghetti,” he jokes.

You nod to your phone. “It’s a good thing I’m recording this for posterity then. The whole country needs to know about this travesty.”

Charles’ eyes go wide. “What? No, don’t record me!” He reaches for your phone but you spin away, giggling.

“The people of Italy deserve to know the truth about their hero!” You declare dramatically.

“Mon ange, please give me the phone,” he pleads, trying to grab your arm. You dance out of reach.

“Truth and justice will prevail!” You continue recording as Charles chases you around the kitchen island.

“Come on, delete it! This could start an international incident if it gets out!”

You pause to catch your breath, phone held high. “An international inchident? Wow, look at you being all dramatic now. I thought it wasn’t a big deal?”

Charles runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I didn’t think you’d actually record it as blackmail material! Please, mon amour, I’m begging you, delete the video.”

You pretend to think about it. “Hmm I don’t know … this seems like prime viral video content. Scuderia Ferrari Driver Destroys Pasta, Enrages Italy. Can you imagine the views it would get?”

“Y/N!” Charles lunges forward and tackles you onto the living room couch. You shriek with laughter as he tries to pry the phone from your grip.

“Noooo my video!” You yell dramatically.

Charles pins your arms above your head with one hand and reaches for the phone with the other. “Give it to me!”

You squirm underneath him. “Never!”

He leans down until his face is just inches from yours. “What’s it going to take for you to delete that video, huh?” His voice is low and gravelly.

You catch your breath, hyper aware of his body pressing against yours. “I don’t know, what are you offering?” You ask cheekily.

Charles brushes his nose against yours. “What if I made you your favorite dinner tomorrow night?”

You tilt your chin up in defiance. “That’s all I get for deleting potential internet gold? I don’t think so.”

He moves even closer, his lips just barely grazing your cheek. “Okay, what if I take you out for a nice date too? Dinner and a show at the opera, your choice.” His breath is warm against your skin.

You close your eyes for a second, affected by his closeness but not ready to give in yet. “Tempting, but I think this video is worth even more than that.”

Charles makes a small noise of frustration before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You melt into it for a blissful moment before pulling back slightly.

“Well that’s certainly a start,” you murmur, your heart racing.

Charles lets go of your hands to cradle your face tenderly. “Mon cœur, please delete the video. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”

You search his eyes intently. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he confirms fervently before kissing you again, deeper this time.

You wrap your arms around his neck and give yourself over to the kiss. After several heated moments, you gently break away.

“Okay fine, I’ll delete the video on one condition.”

Charles looks at you warily. “Name it.”

“You have to let me drive your Ferrari.”

Charles groans and drops his head against your shoulder. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

You laugh and pat his head consolingly. “Those are my terms.”

He lifts his head to grin ruefully at you. “You drive a hard bargain. But for the sake of Italian nonnas everywhere, I accept your deal.”

You lift up your phone and pretend to wipe away a tear. “The souls of broken spaghetti can finally rest easy.”

Charles just shakes his head before leaning down to silence you with another deep kiss. As you lose yourself in the feeling of his body against yours, you quietly move the video into an encrypted folder. After all, you never know when it might come in handy.

***

You raise an eyebrow as you watch Charles carefully pour Red Bull into his Ferrari water bottle. “Do you buy those in bulk?” You ask with a laugh.

Charles gasps in exaggerated outrage. “Buy from the enemy? Never!” He screws the cap on tightly and gives you a sly grin. “Max and I have an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” You echo in surprise. This is news to you.

Charles nods, looking pleased with himself. “Yes, a secret trade deal. I provide him cappuccinos from the Ferrari cafe and Max supplies me with as much Red Bull as I need.”

You burst out laughing. “Are you serious? You and Max smuggle each other contraband caffeinated drinks?”

“Shh, not so loud!” Charles glances around furtively, but the motorhome is empty except for the two of you. “It must remain a secret.”

Still chuckling, you lower your voice conspiratorially. “So the great Charles Leclerc betrays his team for energy drinks. The Tifosi would riot if they knew!”

Charles winces dramatically. “Do not say such things! It is not betrayal, merely … creative problem solving.” He takes a long swig of Red Bull and grins. “The taste of the enemy is sweet.”

“I can’t believe you drink that stuff. And I can’t believe Max is your supplier!” You shake your head in amusement. “Does anyone else know about this arrangement of yours?”

“Only Lando. We needed a neutral third party to broker the deal and make the exchanges.” Charles leans in with a playful smile. “So do not be getting any ideas about exposing our scheme, yes?”

You mimic zipping your lips. “My lips are sealed … as long as you share some of that!”

Charles pretends to think about it for a second before breaking into a grin and handing you the bottle. The carbonated liquid fizzes pleasantly on your tongue, the familiar flavor mingling with the surrealness of drinking Red Bull from a Ferrari bottle. You take one more sip then hand it back to Charles.

“Just don’t let Fred or Christian find out,” you warn teasingly. “Pretty sure this counts as treason.”

Charles just laughs. “They turn a blind eye. The team knows I perform best when properly caffeinated.” He caps the bottle and adds, “But no more for you, ma belle. I only have a limited supply!”

You pout dramatically. “Fine, keep your precious Red Bull. I guess I’ll just have to tell everyone what’s really in your water bottle!”

The can of Red Bull that Charles rushes to give you tastes even sweeter than usual.

[unabashednightmarepizza]

A/N: I am just starting to play Honkai so if there is anything wrong or that just doesn't make sense, please tell me!

A/N ²: This is me attempting to adopt and protect my babies, wrapping them in cotton and never leaving their side... And I got sleepy at the end, or else I would have written Aventurine and Dan Heng too :( If anyone has ideas for Honkai SAGAU, please do send some asks 👏🏻

Imagine... The Creator!Reader in Honkai verse. You were just idly passing by, to see what your children were doing after the Ones you left in charge... Pretty much usurped your throne.

Imagine the Creator!Reader seeing, witnessing all the deaths and sorrow IPC created...in the name of "economy". Such thing was absurd, why would they do that, slaving and using people for their benefit to make more and more when you gave all the humans and even the Aeons enough source to love in harmony?

Why would they destroy people, families, lives... Planets?

Imagine... Creator!Reader's disappointment as They slump back on their throne. They gave them life, opportunities to overcome their mind's limit and be someone to be remembered... They gave them life sources, water, air, planets to live on, souls to feel and think and passions to find a reason to be alive... And yet, there were some people, the people of your Aeon Qlipoth, who was usualy indifferent, deciding that they were the ones to destroy the harmony and balance you had settled for everyone.

They thought Yours wasn't the final saying, that your word wasn't the absolute

How many more times did they have to go through all of the syages of self-destruction before they finally used their mind and consciousness together? Before they realized your Balance was the most beneficial for everyone?

Imagine... Knowing what would happen, even though pain was a constant part of human life, They didn't want their creation to suffer such a fate. Loosing humanity, everything that made humans humans... Loosing your family and witnessing their deaths right before their eyes, only being seen as the sins someone that wasn't you did and being exiled, pushed aside and running away for not to be hunted and all the reasons for your disappointment... Creator!Reader decides to take the reigns.

First, they go to visit a certain father and daughter duo. They watch from the side as they spend time, caring for the horses, playing guitar and braiding each other's hair. They couldn't help the smile that slowly took over their face, watching with fondness at the innocence of that little toddler... Before their eyes met, and a spark erupted.

From now on, as much as Boothill was first skeptical about them, he accepted to have Them around since his daughter and siblings loved Them so much. The little girl often slept on Them while cuddling, her soul immediately knowing the presence of its creator... Of course They didn't tell them everything, that their lives would be over because of Their greedy creations... And of course, the fact that They were the Allmighty Creator they kept telling tales about.

They loved this little found family a lot, with the human body They crafted to blend in, and soon found Themselves attached. Soon, They found Themselves cooking and cleaning around, running after the children with a toddler attached to their hip as the silent affection between Them and Boothill grew with all the loving and fleeting touches, hugging and cuddling, stargazing at night but never leaving their eyes off of each other...

But an omnipresent being falling in love with their creations was...against the balance... Especially when the day of their death too, came closer, and They were the one who lied, although it was to protect them.

But please, they were the Creator, to Weaver of All Fates, were the measly humans really going to stop Them? Take what was rightfully theirs?

Don't think so.

Before the fall of the planet, when all the equipments of IPC broke and the Path of those who worked under it, alongside Qlipoth's, were taken away for some time... That was when Qlipoth understood that they initially fucked up and angered the Creator. Now, another Aeon who had a head over their shoulders, would probably go nuts with fear and cower at some kind of corner of the universe...

But greed? Greed was often stronger that rationality.

Did any of that shitty behaviour stop? No, not really.

So, it was up to you to save and protect all those traumatised kids... And also make sure that a whole race didn't get wiped out.

[leclucklerc]

Something Immortal CL16 - 02. Bad Idea

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Wayne!reader

Summary: Y/n Wayne knows that this is a bad idea. But well, going against the law is something that runs in the Wayne Family.

Word Count: 4.4K

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“Is B really going to buy an F1 team?”

Y/n looked up from the plate of dessert in front of her towards where Jason was sitting. The both of them are in the VIP lounge of the Monaco GP, waiting for the race to start before being ushered towards the Ferrari garage.

“What makes you say that?”

Jason gave her a pointed look. “I’m not dumb,” he said. “I can see a business talk even if it’s miles away.” At this, he pointed towards the paddock that could be seen from the windows in front of them.

They could see a glimpse of Bruce, laughing and talking with people with different team kits. Y/n recognized most of them as the team principals or even the management team from different F1 teams.

“Y/n, seriously, I don’t have time to become a driver,” said Jason. “And I’ll probably suck at it, most of these guys had been racing since they were in diapers.”

“Still,” defended the woman, fully aware that Jason’s argument was fairly logical. “You don’t have to be a driver, but I think being around Formula One, something that you’re passionate about, can help you, Jason.”

He doesn’t have to be a driver if he doesn’t want to. Hell, truthfully, if Jason really puts his foot down and strictly declares that no, buying a whole Formula One team is not going to help him, then y/n and Bruce will stop. The both of them will leave this silly idea behind and never look back once more.

But she had seen him. How his eyes followed every garage that they passed in rapid attention. How he attentively listened to what John had said about Ferrari’s Formula One team, how he had watched the free practice and qualifying alone the days before.

It’s been a while. Maybe the last time she saw him being this passionate about something was before his death. To see Jason looking forward to something, to see his brother actually enjoy doing something outside of his crime-fighting activities.

“I-“

“Jay,” she said again, reaching out to hold the older man’s hand. “I- I know we’re not the best family. B is not the best father and the rest of us have not been the best siblings but still I-“ she stopped at that, eyes searching for Jason’s own. 

Years of guilt appeared inside of her. Years of missing memories between the two of them. Years full of regret and anger that had soured their relationship beyond words. 

Y/n, only wants what is best for her brother. “I still want you to be happy,” she said, blue eyes with a hint of green meeting hers. “I want to see you laughing again, be integrated into society, and live your dream-!”

Jason looks lost and y/n is really glad that this section of the VIP lounge was reserved for them.

Because the man in front of her looks so fucking vulnerable. 

She still remembers that time when Jason just returned to Gotham. All Lazarus green eyes and rage oozing out of his form. How he had practically attacked Tim, taunting the rest of them, and begged their father to choose him over that clown.

Y/n also remembers the emptiness that appeared in his eyes when they informed him that the Joker was dead.

It was one of the most terrifying moments of her life. Because Jason had it made his mission to kill that clown. To avenge the fallen Robin that had remained unavenged. To finally end the reign of terror that the prince of clowns had put upon Gotham City.

To know that he’s dead?

Well.

There are just so so many things left unsaid between the two of them. Too much pain and history that had happened between the two of them. To see, Jason who had always raged and raged looking this lost is-

“I’ve been wondering-“ said Jason, leaning forward. “Ever since that clown died, I’ve been wondering what the fuck I should do with my life-“

It’s a familiar conversation. Something that Jason had told her months ago under the darkness of the night. When there are only the two of them on top of his safehouse rooftop, sharing a stick of cigarettes to fight off the cold.

Y/n leaned forward, touching their shoulder together. It’s something that they often did before Ethiopia all those years ago. When Jason was nothing but a short and skinny kid that’s not too far off y/n own size. 

It’s been years since Ethiopia and a lot of things have changed.

“Have you decided, Jay?” she asked, eyes closing and head leaning towards his shoulder. “Whatever you want, you know that we will support you.”

Jason was silent for a bit.

The female too, sat there in silence, giving the older male a chance to think it through.

“I still want to be Red Hood,” he whispered, far too low for anyone to hear except y/n. “I still want to make Crime Alley a better place for people to live in.”

Y/n has to fight off a smile at that. Such a typical answer for a bat. Such a typical answer for the son of Bruce Wayne.

“Yeah?” she said. 

Jason hummed. “But I also want to live my life.”

A smile appeared on y/n face. She can feel the excited thrumming of her heart as she continues to listen.

“Oh?” she asked. “And that is?”

“Going to university, getting an English degree,” at this, he stopped. “And living the dream F1 fan life ‘cause my family owned a fucking team here.”

Y/n laughed at that; happiness clear on her face.

Bruce got the honor to wave the checkered flag that marks the end of the Monaco GP.

Her dad looks pleased, but she also knows that inside of that large smile and laugh, her dad simply doesn’t care. This business trip to Monaco had been a risky move after all, if it’s not for Jason’s happiness, y/n doesn’t think her dad would even consider going on this business trip.

In the end, when her dad was handed the checkered flag, the man put the flag into Jason’s hand.

“Do you want to do it, Jay?”

Jason blinked. “Huh?”

“Waving the flag,” answered her dad, letting out a smile. “Instead of me, my son can do it, right?” asked Bruce, turning his head towards where the president of FIA and the chairman of Ferrari stood.

“Of course, of course!” Said Ben, the president of FIA. “It would be an honor for us!”

“But they literally asked for you” answered Jason.

Her dad merely laughed at that. “They said you can do it, son.”

Jason may look like as if he wants to protest, but y/n knows that the man is far too excited at the prospect of waving the checkered flag at the Monaco GP. He may grumble and curse her dad a few times, but he really can’t hide the happiness that’s shining through his eyes at the mere thought of it.

The older man too, seemed to notice his son’s excitement as he let out an indulgent smile as he watched her brother being escorted to his position.

“Jason looks happy,” she said. “It’s been a while since I saw him like that.”

“I know,” murmured her dad. There was silence between the two of them before her dad leaned forward towards her a bit. “I saw you earlier.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow. “What?”

“I saw you flirting with one of the drivers,” replied her dad. “The Ferrari one.”

Ah, she thought. He was referring to Charles. “It was an act, Dad,” she simply said. “You know, like your Brucie Wayne persona? I just think that it will do us some good if we’re on a friendly term with the paddock.”

Her dad stared at her. “There are better ways to do that, like chatting with the FIA president, for instance,” replied the man as he turned his gaze toward where Ben and John were talking with Jason near the track. “I don’t think flirting with a driver will really help our cause.”

Y/n shrugged, “He’s cute, what can I say?”

“Y/n.”

“What?” she hissed out. “I have to watch you flirt with Selina the entirety of my life, let me flirt with cute boys for a change!”

“You know it’s different,” pointed out her dad, leaning closer towards her. “Don’t associate with anyone outside of the masked community.”

The woman rolled her eyes at that.

She knows that the older man has a point. She knows that he’s doing this in order to protect all of them. Not only his hidden identity, but the rest of the family and possibly the rest of the Justice League. Bruce has always put a tight leash on all of his children regarding the interaction and the social circle that they all kept. Most of the time, the man didn’t have to worry considering most of his children worked inside the masked community, resulting in most of their friends being another superhero.

But y/n?

Despite her close association and frequent presence in their nightly activity, she sometimes thinks that her dad forgets that she’s not a vigilante or a hero. Yes, she knows all of their secret identity, yes, she often assisted her brothers on their not-so-legal work.

Outside of all of that, y/n is a civilian. She’s just a normal doctor who’s not saving the world during her past time. She’s a normal woman that’s working in a perfectly legal job.

Friends are hard to come by when you’re the daughter of the richest man in the world. Friends are harder to come by when you’re the daughter of the richest man in the world who is also hiding the fact that he’s the dark knight himself.

“I know,” she hissed out. “It’s a persona dad, I doubt we’ll talk again.”

Her dad gave her a look as if he didn’t believe in that.

And well.

Um.

Charles won the Monaco GP. The first Monegasque driver to do so in the last 93 years. Jason had failed to hide his excitement as he waved the checkered flag.

Her family was there, right in front of the podium as they watched the Ferrari drivers and the McLaren driver celebrating the win that they acquired. Y/n was standing there, smiling politely as she watched the champagne shower that was happening in front of them.

It was also then, that their eyes met.

She was not sure if Charles was looking at her or at someone near her, but the man’s already wide smile had gotten wider as he locked his eyes with her. And it was also then, that Charles sent her a wink.

Huh.

Okay.

Oookay.

I’ll meet you later, he seems to mouth off, a bit quickly, before he continues the champagne shower with the rest of the drivers.

So much for not talking with him anymore.

“Hi, stranger.”

Y/n can’t help the quirk of her mouth at that greeting.

The woman turned her gaze towards the source of the voice, eyes immediately falling towards where Charles Leclerc stood next to her. There’s a smile on his lips, hair tousled and green eyes twinkling.

“Hello,” she greeted back, raising her glass of champagne. “Drink?”

Charles chuckled. “I had enough champagne for the day,” replied the male as he took a seat next to her.

She can’t help but laugh at that. “I mean, you won today,” answered the female, putting down the glass of champagne on top of the table in front of them. “How does it feel to be a Monaco GP race winner? And did you actually drink the champagne that’s being sprayed earlier?” Being sprayed with a bottle of champagne sure is an experience, it seems. 

“Amazing,” he breathed out, inching closer to her. “I guess a change of mindset is the only thing needed to break the curse.”

“I told you,” said the female, amusement dripping on her tone. “Guess I did become a really lucky girl today.”

“I hope so,” answered Charles. “I did remember your words throughout the race.”

“Oh? You did?” teased y/n. “Seeing Charles Leclerc win the Monaco GP live and being constantly on his mind? What a lucky girl I am.”

Charles let out a laugh at that.

The dinner party around them is buzzing with blaring music and drunken chatter. The event itself was hosted by WE and the FIA. A collaboration work between the two entity that marks the beginning of WE’s involvement in the motorsport industry. It was the reason why her dad – a reclusive who hardly leaves Gotham if he can help it – needed to do a business trip in Monaco.

And of course, for the simple reason of buying Jason an F1 team. 

Not that y/n is complaining. She had wanted to visit Monaco forever and this was the perfect opportunity to do it. Watching a Formula 1 race live is a bonus that she will never miss out on.

The dinner party that they hosted was the formal event that they made for the winners of the race. Though, it seems most of the drivers are in attendance. No doubt advised by each of their respective team to gain the elusive Wayne sponsorship.

She knows that the news of Bruce Wayne wanting to buy an F1 team or become a major sponsor had already made its rounds. Even the bigger teams who don’t really need more money came in order to make some kind of connection with Wayne Enterprise.

Truthfully, this dinner party made her nervous a bit. After all, it’s not like she attended a party outside of Gotham.

But still, Charles’s sudden presence helped ease up her nervousness for a bit.

“Where’s your brother?” asked Charles, eyes flickering around the room.

“Ah, Jason is not feeling well,” replied the female. “He decided to stay in our hotel.” Which is a blatant lie. Y/n knows that Jason brought his Red Hood gear all the way here. He’s probably prowling the streets of Monaco, searching for that gang boss who made him join this business trip to Monaco initially.

Charles hummed at that, taking a seat next to her.

“I heard you helped orchestrate this whole dinner party,” started the man.

Y/n laughed at that. “Orchestrating is a big word, considering me and my family just throw some money at the event organizer.”

“Still, I really like the red accents, it was as if you already know that Ferrari is going to win today’s race,” said the male as he gestured towards the red flower as well as the red napkins on top of the tables.

The woman grinned cheekily at that. “Who said I don’t? Maybe I have the power to see the future?”

Charles raised his eyebrows at that, amusement clear in his eyes. “Oh?” he prompted out, leaning forward. “Can you see my future then?”

Y/n hummed, mouth closing in a wide smile as she too, leaned forward. Both of their face are really close to each other. “Hm…” she let out. “I think… You’re going to be really drunk tonight.”

He laughed at that, eyes crinkling. “It’s given,” he said, grinning.

“Really?” she said, sounding amused. “Do you want me to see further into your future?”

“You can?” asked Charles, with a tilt of his head, mouth still grinning. “What a fearsome power that you have.”

The female giggled. “I think I can see…” she whispered. “A future world champion here.”

Now, Charles is full-blown laughing, the glass of champagne that he had been holding now forgotten as he lets the amusement to envelop his very being. 

“Seriously,” he said the first part in French before he switched back to English, “You really know how to appease someone.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” said Charles. “You better be careful, or I’ll think that you’ve been flirting with me.”

It’s a bold thing to say, especially to Bruce Wayne’s daughter.

She knows that she’s one of the most desirable women in the marriage market, considering her looks and her family. Many people had attempted to flirt with her, to trap her with their honeyed words and kind gestures. 

But still, it’s been a while since there’s someone this bold.

“Well, I’ve been flirting with you,” replied y/n instead. “It would be embarrassing if you thought otherwise.”

Yeah, the moment she uttered those words, she knew that this was a bad choice to make.

Because at that moment, she could see the sparkle of interest in Charles’s eyes. The light that suddenly shone behind those green orbs as the man leaned forward toward her. Y/n could faintly smell the cologne that he wore, a masculine one that reminded her of her dad for a bit.

“Oh?” he said, mouth quirking up and eyes crinkling. “I’ve been flirting with you too, if you haven’t noticed.”

Okay, this isn't good. She needs to stop this before they go further and ignite her dad’s anger. 

“I see,” answered y/n with a smile. “Anyway Mr. Future World Champion, I think your team principal is looking for you-“

It was the perfect excuse because she really did have seen Fred wandering around the room in search of his driver. However, whatever she was going to say stopped immediately when a hand reached out to grab her wrist. She immediately looked down, staring at Charles’ palm.

“Hey,” said the male, grinning. “Wanna go somewhere fun?”

She should say no.

Y/n can already imagine her father’s disappointed sigh and the loud protest from her brothers. She can already see her doing the walk of shame tomorrow, with Jason silently judging her. It would be stupid of her to say yes because there are just so many consequences waiting for her if she took up that offer.

There’s literally no reason for her to say yes to someone that she barely knows.

But well-

Charles looked at her with those bright green eyes of his, the corner crinkling up from how wide his smile was. There’s something about his expression – so transparent, so genuine, something that she rarely saw in Gotham – that tickled her heart at the right place.

Maybe it’s the dimpled smile, maybe she was simply swept up by the moment.

But the next thing that she knew was-

“Yes,” she answered.

The smile that Charles let out can ignite the room.

The music is loud. Louder than what she used to.

There’s a huge misconception of her back in Gotham. Due to her father’s public persona, as well as her brother’s less-than-idle nature, the media had portrayed her as a party girl once upon a time.

But really, this is the first time for her to be in a club.

Clubs are not that common to start with in Gotham. Due to the high crime rate, and the many many dangers, clubs scarcely exist in the city. Galas though? Galas happens almost every week. Due to that, y/n only ever attended galas and galas.

So this, this is a new experience for her.

She could see the throngs of people around her, dancing and laughing, fully immersed in the music around them. There’s something about the air that just made everyone highly excited as if there’s no tomorrow.

It didn’t take long for her to be swept up by the atmosphere too.

 “So, how are you enjoying the night?” Yelled Charles as the two of them laughed and danced in the middle of the dance club. Y/n was glad that she had opted for a short dress because really, the ball gowns that she used to wear for galas will be sticking out like a sore thumb in this kind of scene.

 “It’s been fantastic!” answered the woman, amidst the loud music. Her mouth is a bit aching from how wide she’s been grinning but that really can’t dampen her mood. “It’s not my usual scene, but I guess a change of environment is not that bad.”

“Oh? Gotham doesn’t have a lot of parties?” laughed Charles, hand finding themselves around her wrist.

She stepped closer, face almost touching. “Mostly galas, or gatherings,” said y/n, letting out a shrug, before a grin overtook her face once again. “It’s not exactly safe to throw a wild party like this in a city like Gotham after all.” 

Something flickered in Charles’ eyes as he let out a hum.

“So,” started the woman, wanting to change the subject of the conversation. She leaned forward, cocking her head for a bit. “Is Monaco nightlife had always been this lively?”

“It is when it’s my party,” said the man, as they stepped out of the dance floor towards the bar.

Ordering for the both of them, Charles sidled close to her.

“You’re really trying to get drunk tonight?” teased the woman.

“Not too much,” replied the man. “I wanna remember you.”

She hummed. “Well, what’s stopping you?” she asked. “Don’t you think we should make more memories then?”

Charles turned to her, and the grip that he had around her waist tightened.

“Oh?” he said, voice lower. “Are you sure?”

The grin that she lets out must’ve been enough of confirmation because the next thing that she knew, they’re stumbling into Charles’ Ferrari, lips interlocked with each other in a desperate and sloppy make-out session.

She’s grateful that the parking space is located in a discreet place because her appearance right now is less dignified than what Bruce Wayne’s daughter should be. Though, she really can’t seem to care right now. All she knows is the taste of Charles’ lips on her and how his hand traveled all across her body, giving her a delicious tease of pleasure.

They fell into bed together.

That night had been a bit of a blur, to be honest. He remembers dancing with y/n, laughing, and touching her under the club lights. He remembers dragging her to the edge of the dance floor, head leaning forward.

“Can I?” he had muttered, head cocking sideways.

Y/n had let out a laugh at that, hands winding around his neck before she too, leaned forward.

He remembers the sweet taste of her mouth, how she had opened her mouth, letting their tongue meet in a wet mess. How his hands had wandered around, starting from her back before reaching downwards towards the edge of her short dress.

“Let’s take this somewhere,” muttered y/n back then, releasing his mouth with a string of droll still connecting them. “Somewhere more private,” the last part was whispered and he remembers the jolt of arousal that hit him at that very moment.

Charles doesn’t have a clear memory of how they managed to get into his apartment. All he remembers is how he pinned y/n by his front door, savoring her as they rutted against each other like a teenager. 

The night ended with them on his bed, rustling against each other and-

Charles cracked his eyes open, watching the sun filter into his room from the crack of his curtain.

He could feel the pounding headaches as the memories from last night rushed into him like a tsunami. Of him winning the Monaco GP, of him attending the formal dinner, of him and y/n stumbling into bed together-

His eyes widened as he immediately turned his gaze toward the other side of the bed.

Sitting there, still topless with a blanket covering her, is y/n Wayne, brow furrowed as she scrolled something on her phone. That sight immediately warmed something across his heart as he stared at the woman silently, not wanting to avert his gaze for a second.

“You’re awake?” asked y/n, turning her gaze towards him.

He let out a hum, shuffling closer towards her.

At that, y/n’s hand fell on top of his head, caressing his unruly mop of hair. It’s soothing, something that he really needs amidst the headache that’s been throbbing inside of his head. They stayed like that for a couple of moments, basking in each other presence.

The moment didn’t last long because y/n phone rang.

“Yeah?” asked the woman before she stared at him for a moment before she began talking in a language that he didn’t understand.

Charles faintly recognizes it as German. He knows a couple of words, but with the way y/n talking as if she’s a native speaker, well, it’s safe to say that he really doesn’t have a clue about what she’s talking about. The phone call didn’t last long. Only a couple of minutes at best. Though, at the end, y/n let out a sigh.

“Something wrong?” he asked, sitting up.

“Charles, listen,” stated the woman. “This is a bit awkward, but I gotta go.”

He ignores the disappointment that erupted inside his chest. The driver had been hoping that they could have breakfast together before taking a stroll around Monaco before he had to see her off.

“I really enjoyed last night but-“

Before she can even finish that sentence, Charles interrupts her again. “Can I see you again?”

Y/n blinked, staring at him. “Yes?”

“See you again,” said the driver, leaning closer. “I really enjoyed last night. More than simply enjoying it,” he continues. “I like to do it again.”

The woman is still staring at him.

“Of course, I mean not only fucking, but like, I would love to have a date with you,” he continue, tongue a bit tied at the sight of an angel in front of him. “If you give me the chance?”

Honestly, he was not expecting much. A woman like y/n must have had a lot of suitors or partners all her life. Charles will be the luckiest man on earth if y/n even gives him a chance for a single date, let alone dating her.

It was silent for a bit, as the both of them stared at each other with no words being exchanged.

The moment was broken when y/n let out a loud laugh.

It startled him a bit, Charles doesn’t really understand what’s funny about his declaration and yet, he doesn’t really mind it. After all, the sight of y/n letting out such a carefree laugh is something that he will integrate into his memory forever.

“Yeah,” said the woman, finally. “Let’s see each other again.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” grinned the woman. “But next time, bring me to a proper date, okay?”

Charles laughed at that, giving her a single kiss.

taglist!

@piceous21 @myloveforfandom-blog @barnestatic @ilivbullyingjeongin @fangirl-dot-com @halleest @a-beaverhausen @sagestack @redcellghost @mac-daddy-210 @kellysthilaire

[caleohateclub]

Ghost of Elpenor: And then tell Odysseus "but why do you care? So many deaths happen under your reign!"

Perimedes: Look, buddy, I'm gonna be honest, I don't think your verse is gonna make it in. I just don't think he cares about you as much as he cares about Polites and his mom.

GoE: But isn't he curious as to why we sang' 558 men' and not '557 men'??

Perimedes: Nah, he's pretty bad with numbers.

[pennyellee]

chapter IX - lacuna

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader

genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, mentions of antidepressants, anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares, mentions of night terrors, mentions of self harm, manipulative behaviour, mentions of labotomy, medical cases, intimate life, diseases, “failed” pregnancy, alcohol, medication, etc.

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 8,7K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

A/N: so yes, it took me a while to actually finish this chapter and as I mentioned - it’s shorter than what I usually want to write for lacrimosa. Truth to be told, this is what I can do for now till I get something better to write on. I don’t know when the next chapter will be written and up, so for now thank you for your patience, i actually didnt think i would write a chapter whilst im in US coz the only device on my person is my phone, but im very happy I managed to write something. This chapter is more of a prequel go what’s going to happen next. Many of you actually guessed/predicted some things right and for some you have to wait till the very end, we’re near it.

Massive thank you goes to @chaoticpuff17 who managed to beta read it despite both our situations being crazy rn, ily queen 🥹🫧🩵

Love you all, p.

m.list

lacuna (n.) a blank space, missing part

The night was relentless, a symphony of thunderclaps and the steady drum of rain against the cobblestones. The celebrations of the famous Kkangpae toned down, and after some months, several trips to the barren debris land of where Yakuza reigned, they returned safely to the sanctuary.

Back where she cannot hide from him in the stables, kitchen or sunroom, switching from one room to another just to not be in his presence for longer than she wanted. Yet, he managed to steal her away when his frustration boiled up enough. Y/N could’ve hinted how much she doesn’t want him to sleep next to her all she wants, he kept sneaking in and out every time. Yoongi was patient, determined even. Determined to make things right this time by giving her space. But the wrenching feeling of not having her close enough consumed him, night, day and moon.

Yoongi kept his promise, giving Y/N the space she needed while gradually attempting to rebuild the trust that had been shattered. He was careful with his words, patient in his actions, and ever attentive to her unspoken needs. The pair worked on their friendship these past weeks, he wanted himself to be her person. The person that she would love and lean on.

But the young Buin might seem calm now, from outside, but her wit remained under the surface. She buried herself deep within her psyche and doctor Kim could do very little to “repair” her. Not even renown specialists who came to give the young girl a helping hand did not succeed.

Yoongi watched her from a distance yet at the same time he was so close, his heart aching with the knowledge that he was partly to blame for her withdrawal. He had been too harsh, too controlling. Now, he was paying the price. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to whisper apologies and promises into her ear. But every time he approached, he could see the fear and distrust in her eyes. It was a barrier he didn't know how to break.

Wang Xiaoqing’s wisdom was passed onto her, they whispered. But truth to be told, the elder woman, may she rest in peace, underestimated the new blood. The following legacy. Now, her kin suffers.

Yoongi wishes he never used the letter as leverage against her nor let her read it. At night he wonders whether that would change things. Whether by now she would be in love with him just as much he’s in love with her.

He sat down with the rest of his family at the dinner table after she broke down with yet another panic attack. The dining room was oppressively silent, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. It wasn’t even the end of January, and the snow was still prevailing outside. Yoongi sat at the head of the table, his expression a mask of stoic resolve, though his heart was anything but calm.

Y/N was conspicuously absent, her chair at the table glaringly empty. Yoongi's mind replayed the scene from earlier, the look of sheer panic in her eyes as she had crumbled under the weight of her emotions. He had wanted to reach out to her, to offer comfort, but he knew his presence would only worsen her distress.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi broke the silence, his voice strained but firm.

“I know you care about me. About this family—”

“I’ve made mistakes—mistakes that have pushed her to the edge.”

“No, Yoongi—” the right hand man straightened himself in his seat interrupting his leader.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and sorrow as he turned to face his right-hand man, Namjoon. The room held its breath, tension crackling in the air.

“Namjoon, please,” Yoongi said, his voice weary. “My wife slit her throat, stop justifying my actions.”

Namjoon hesitated but nodded, leaning back in his chair, his expression still troubled. Yoongi took a deep breath, steeling himself to continue.

"I pushed her too far, and now she's breaking—”

“Now, I don’t know what your intentions are with my wife, but I forbid you from whatever you are putting into her head.”

Namjoon's eyes widened in shock at Yoongi's words, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right response. The weight of Yoongi's accusation hung heavy in the air, and the room seemed to grow even quieter, the tension palpable.

Yoongi's jaw clenched, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He had always trusted Namjoon implicitly, had relied on him as his closest confidant and advisor. But now, in the wake of Y/N's pain and suffering, he couldn't help but wonder if that trust had been misplaced.

“All of you.”

“Yoongi, I swear—” Namjoon began, his voice tinged with desperation. But Yoongi held up a hand, cutting him off.

“I don't want to hear it, Namjoon,” he said, his tone final.

“Whatever it is, I’m giving her the space to tell me herself.” Namjoon's gaze faltered under Yoongi's intense stare.

“I would never intentionally do anything to harm Y/N or come between you two. She's like family to me, too.” Yoongi's jaw clenched tighter, but he nodded curtly, acknowledging Namjoon's words.

“Seokjin.” He addressed the oldest man in the room.

“Yes, Yoongi?” Seokjin replied, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

“She’s still taking those pills you gave her,” Seokjin's brow furrowed in concern at Yoongi's words. They were only a temporary solution before Seokjin decided that day to put her on barbiturates. She needs his help and if he cannot help her the way he knows it will be most effective, he’ll at least prescribe whatever will tone down her night terrors so she can sleep at nights.

"I'll talk to her," he said firmly. “But you know what would certainly help her—” Yoongi’s hand flew high to hit the table, making everybody twitch at the loud noise.

“No, Seokjin. No.” The family members exchanged solemn nods. Yoongi took a moment to compose himself, his chest heaving with pent-up frustration.

"She needs more support than we can provide on our own. We have to consider what's best for her.” Yoongi struggled to find the words to express his feelings. "I know, Seokjin," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But that is going way too far.”

Namjoon leaned forward, his expression earnest. The youngest at the end of the table cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him, waiting for his input. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the tension in the room, before speaking up.

“Maybe you just need to stop shielding her in. Let her live a life—” Jungkook's suggestion hung in the air, a fresh perspective on the situation that caused the family members to exchange thoughtful glances.

Yoongi's brow furrowed as he considered Jungkook's words, the idea of allowing Y/N more freedom conflicting with his instinct to protect her.

“But what if she runs for the hills, Kook.” Park Jimin’s voice echoed from across the room, his hands busy pouring the strong liquor to seven crystal glasses. Yoongi's gaze flickered towards Jimin, setting the first glass in front of him.

"I can't bear the thought of her running away from me again," Yoongi admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. Hoseok nodded in agreement, his expression sombre.

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully, understanding Yoongi's apprehension. "I get where you're coming from, hyung,—” Jimin set down the last glass of liquor, his expression sympathetic.

“I’d say, nonetheless, she needs something to occupy her mind other than those thoughts.” Said Jimin sitting down on his chair while nursing his own glass of the booze.

"Maybe if we can find something that brings her joy, something to distract her—” Seokjin nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful.

“She studied, tasted her own freedom and now all she’s left with is being your wife.” Yoongi's heart clenched at Jimin's words, a pang of guilt washing over him. But still a large part of him was thinking why it is not enough.

“She can work with me once she’s better.” The doctor interjected. Yoongi's gaze shifted towards Seokjin, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the suggestion.

"You think she'd be up for it?" Yoongi asked, his voice tentative yet hopeful.

“Ah hyung you’re so in the dark—” Jungkook remarked. Jungkook sighed, his gaze meeting Yoongi's with empathy.

“She needs to feel like she has a say in her own life, like she's not just living for someone else.” Where this newfound wisdom arose, Yoongi did not know. But he was glad for the support of his family men.

Hoseok placed a reassuring hand on Yoongi's shoulder, his expression filled with empathy.

“She knows so much about herbs, remedies, I think she’ll be happy to help Seokjin.” Yoongi's heart swelled with gratitude for Hoseok's insight. He hadn't fully realised the extent of Y/N's knowledge and interests outside of their marriage and that needed to change.

“Don’t tell her just yet.” The right hand man remarked.

“Yes, I want to give her more time to recover before we come back to the sanctuary.” The other family members murmured their agreement, a sense of solidarity and understanding settling over them. After all, at the end of the day it is a happy wife, happy life.

—

But months later, Y/N understood that if there’s even a slight possibility that the scarred leader will grow for better, it would be a painfully long process. She realised so once he returned with his knuckles all bruised and bloodied one night. She tended to them, and he was basking under her touch. Despite everything, she couldn’t ignore the humanity in his pain.

Her eyes rolled and a loud sigh followed when she understood what was the cause of his lapse of senses. He had let his frustration and anger take over him, but rather than put it out on everyone else like he was known for, he silently left his office to vent his anger elsewhere. She guided him to sit down after she asked the maid to bring her everything she needed to clean his wounds.

Yoongi watched her, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and excitement under her delicate touch. The feel of her hands, so careful and tender, was both a comfort and a torment. The imagery masking all the darkness that loomed over them, they would fool even the Lord himself that this couple is one of love.

They sat in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of bandages and the distant rumble of thunder outside. Yoongi closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes to him. She avoided him less and less. So why did he have to let his steam off so suddenly?

“You know—” she began, focusing on his other hand now.

“You’re not really setting a good example of “communication is the key ”, now do you?”

Yoongi's eyes flickered open at her words, a hint of guilt flashing across his features before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression. He couldn't deny the truth in her statement, nor could he easily articulate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within him.

His mind drifted back to the hushed whispers, the concerned looks from Seokjin. Y/N was still fairly weak in terms of her health. Yet, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’ll come to tell him he’s going to be a father. Foolish of him, he knows. Selfish of him, he knows that too.

“I’m sorry, Dove.” He only muttered, forcing a kiss to her sphenoid bone, it was the only affection she rarely allowed him to show. Y/N knew that if she wanted to persuade him that she isn’t a flying risk, she’ll have to allow him to do more. She progressed slowly, with patience and space to breathe everything out.

The reason the young leader needed to vent his anger was obvious to Y/N. She heard the maid that so blatantly spied on everything she did, what she asked for, and whom she talks to on the telephone. Y/N was cautious, yet today, she had to ask for some feminine goods. She understood where his hope for a baby came from, he got himself to believe that once the monthly bleeding did not come the first, second nor the third month.

The young gal, however, knew that this has nothing to do with the possibility of her being pregnant. She still drank the remedy, just to be sure, and for her peace of mind as it bore too many demons already. The fourth month her body decided it’s time to function again and of course the devoted maid reported that right back to her husband whose hope for a child vanished.

“I was hoping we could go see Ma and little Bo Cheng before the wedding, I promised to teach him how to ride a ho—” she began her request carefully. Y/N had managed to negotiate Daiyu’s extended vacation in America with her young son and Kai, yet she couldn’t shake the strong feeling that Yoongi had only allowed such a thing to happen because he felt indebted to her at the moment. Her state was far more delicate than he thought and he desperately wanted to make her happy. The one thing she wanted the most, he couldn’t grant. Freedom.

“Would that make you happy?” Yoongi interrupted. He sighed, his eyes drifting to the window where dark clouds gathered on the horizon.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, hesitant smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. It was a fragile thing, easily shattered, but it was real. And in that moment, Yoongi vowed to himself that he would protect that smile, nurture it, and help it grow.

“Yes, it would. Maybe we could also pay a visit to Daiyu—” Y/N sucked her lips in and shyly smiled again. Yoongi nodded slowly. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrests. The weight of their precarious situation pressed down on him, the knowledge that every decision could have far-reaching consequences hanging over them like a dark cloud.

“I’m not sure about that, sweetling,” he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Her heart clenched, did he understand her intentions?

“You said you’ll give me the world, Yoongi. Why not this?” Y/N’s smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features.

Yoongi’s gaze softened further, a mixture of regret and longing in his eyes. He reached out, taking her hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I will consider this trip, but we have to be cautious now. War is looming on the horizon.” He explained, his tone serious.

“What do you mean war? You’ve just won one,” she challenged, her voice laced with disbelief.

“The world is a volatile place, Dove. Our battle was nothing in comparison to what is to come. The world will fight—” Yoongi’s expression darkened, the weight of their past victories suddenly overshadowed by the looming threat of conflict. Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of war, a cold knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

“Until we’re certain there’s no threat, I want us to remain in Korea, my love.” he declared, his final words.

Y/N’s heart sank at his words, but she forced herself to nod, understanding the gravity of their situation. The war threatened to consume them all, and they had to tread carefully if they were to survive. Y/N nodded slowly to his words.

“She wrote to you this morning, didn’t she?” Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she’s running out of time. If they were caught up in the chaos, she feared she may never leave this place. And with Yoongi’s resolve to remain in Korea, their window of opportunity grew smaller with each passing moment. It was worth the shot, he wouldn’t let her slip that easily if there’s an actual threat that the world’s will battle.

“She met someone,” Y/N added softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty of how Yoongi will react. He, however, already knew. There was nothing that would go past him or so he thought.

"She met someone?" he repeated, his voice tinged with false scepticism. Y/N's heart ached at the doubt in Yoongi's voice, but she held firm in her conviction.

“She’s a widow with a child, who—”

“Happy widow with a child—” she inserted herself into his remark. "She deserves it, Yoongi. After everything she's been through, she deserves a chance at love and happiness.”

“Daiyu is no longer tied to the syndicate. You promised not to meddle with her affairs unless she needs help.” She reminded him less gently, her voice tinged with a hint of caution.

“I intend to keep that promise.” Lie. He already knew the man who so openly started to court her. A sense of relief washed over Y/N as she watched Yoongi's resistance soften, even if it was pretended.

“The rain won’t stop pouring—” Y/N’s voice trailed off, a sombre note creeping into her tone as she glanced out the window at the stormy sky.

“How do you feel today?” Yoongi observed Y/N for a moment, his expression softening as he took in her weary demeanour.

“Better than yesterday.” She replied, her voice carrying a hint of resilience. Yoongi nodded, a sense of relief washing over him at her response. Despite the challenges they faced, he was grateful for every moment of peace they could find amidst the storm.

He noticed the subtle signs of improvement in her appearance. Her cheeks, once sunken and lifeless, now held a hint of colour, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed less pronounced. Her eyes sparkled differently, not with tears as of late. Whatever Seokjin is doing to help her, it is working.

“Have you slept well?” he inquired gently, his voice filled with genuine concern. From Monday to Friday, storms reigned over the hidden valley. Yoongi reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. Her dark hair grew enough to reach past her shoulders since the unfortunate event back in October.

“It wasn't the best, but it was better than before.” Yoongi nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of admiration and concern. He knew that even the smallest victories, like a few hours of sleep, were worth celebrating in their tumultuous world. After all the night terrors she endured for months.

“How’s working with Seokjin?” He knew how demanding their roles could be, especially in the midst of ongoing turmoil. Yoongi expected her to sigh just as softly as she always does, her expression to reflect the weight of responsibility, but none of that happened. Y/N smiled at him brightly instead.

Y/N's smile was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, momentarily dispelling the shadows that lingered around them.

“Work has been great. I've been able to help so many people—” she replied, her voice infused with a sense of optimism that Yoongi hadn't heard in a while. As she spoke, Y/N’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, a stark contrast to the weariness that had plagued her in recent months.

“Did you know that punk, Jungkook, pretends to be sick every other day just to swing by?” Y/N’s voice was filled with amusement as she recounted the antics of the youngest of the seven. Though older than her, she did not feel any age difference between them two.

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle at the mention of Jungkook's antics.

"That sounds like him," he remarked, a fond smile playing at his lips. She continued, her words flowing freely as she recounted her experiences while working with Seokjin at the clinic.

“Seokjin has been a wonderful mentor,” she continued, her eyes shining with gratitude. “He’s taught me so much more than we actually studied at school—” Yoongi nodded in agreement, a sense of pride swelling within him as he listened to Y/N's tales of their work at the clinic.

“I remember this one young man who had sustained severe burns on his arms. The sight of his injuries was heart-breaking, but I could see the determination in his eyes to overcome the pain.” Y/N’s voice softened with emotion as she recalled the moment.

"We worked tirelessly to stabilise him, and when he finally regained consciousness, the look of gratitude in his eyes made all the long hours and hard work worth it. It was a reminder of why I wanted to be a nurse in the first place—to make a difference in people’s lives, no matter how small.”

Yoongi listened intently, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for not allowing her to pursue her passion for nursing earlier.

He may not be able to undo the past, but he could certainly make sure that she had all the support she needed to thrive in the future. The youngest was right. She needed this, she needed to regain her purpose in her life. To be someone for herself.

He realised how much he had underestimated her need for work, how vital it was for her to have a sense of purpose and fulfilment. There was still hope and goodness.

Yoongi listened to all the stories she had to say as for the first time since forever, there were no tears, no screams, no tension in the air. Just the calm, steady rhythm of their shared breaths.

“You know,” Yoongi began, his voice soft, "I'm proud of you. Proud of everything you've accomplished and the progress you’re making. I should have let you do this sooner.”

“Can’t change the past now can we?” He nodded to her remark solemnly, squeezing her hand.

“Tell me more,—” he urged, eager to hear more about her work, her passion. He wanted to be part of her world just like she is part of his, to support her in every way possible.

Y/N smiled, her face glowing with happiness. “Well, there’s this little girl named Jang-mi. She’s been coming in for treatment regularly, and despite everything, she's always so cheerful—”

—

Y/N pulled her coat tighter around her, feeling the icy water seep through the fabric. Her breath came in shallow gasps, mixing with the cold air to form small clouds that dissipated as quickly as they appeared. She huddled beneath the overhang of a small alley, her body shivering uncontrollably. The once comforting weight of her coat now felt like a burden, soaked and heavy.

Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of fear and desperation. The past few days had been a whirlwind of terror and confusion. She had trusted the wrong people, made alliances that crumbled under the weight of deceit. Every step she took seemed to lead her deeper into a labyrinth of danger and uncertainty. She couldn’t afford another mistake; the stakes were too high. The sound of her own heartbeat was loud in her ears, a constant reminder of the life-or-death game she was playing.

A sudden flash of lightning split the sky, casting stark shadows and illuminating the alley in a harsh, white light. For a brief moment, everything was clear and sharp, every detail etched into her memory. That’s when she saw him.

At the mouth of the alley is where he stood , his figure backlit by the brilliant light. He was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he seemed unfazed by the torrential rain. His presence was as menacing as ever, a dark silhouette against the night. His eyes, however, were what held her captive. They were dark, deep pools of unreadable emotion, reflecting the storm’s fury.

Yoongi didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched her, his gaze intense and unwavering. It was a look she had seen before, one that sent chills down her spine. It was the look of a predator sizing up its prey. She knew then, with a sickening certainty, that no matter how far she ran, he would always be one step ahead.

Panic surged through her, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She pressed herself against the wall, the rough brick scraping her skin through the thin material of her coat. She needed to think, to find a way out, but her mind was a blur of fear and fatigue. The rain continued to pour, the cold seeping into her bones, making her limbs feel heavy and uncooperative.

Yoongi took a step forward, the movement slow and deliberate. His boots splashed in the puddles, the sound muffled by the storm. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, a wild, frantic rhythm. She felt like a trapped animal, cornered with no way out. The alley was a dead end, and Yoongi was blocking her only escape route.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the storm. “You can’t keep running.”

His words were a cold, hard truth that she didn’t want to accept. But she had no choice. Every attempt to escape had led her right back to him, like a cruel game of cat and mouse. She swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the rain. She had to keep fighting, had to find a way to break free from his grip.

“I won’t let you control me,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “I’ll find a way out.”

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or admiration for her defiance. “You’re stronger than I thought,” he said, taking another step closer. “But strength alone won’t save you.”

He was close now, close enough that she could see the droplets of rain clinging to his eyelashes, the way his clothes clung to his body. His presence was overwhelming, a dark force that seemed to consume all the light around him. She knew she had to act, had to do something before it was too late.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Y/N pushed off the wall and lunged towards him, hoping to catch him off guard. But Yoongi was ready. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a grip like iron. She struggled, twisting and pulling, but he was too strong.

“Let me fucking go!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

Yoongi pulled her closer, his other hand coming up to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

Tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks as she realised the futility of her struggle. Yoongi’s words were a chilling promise, one that she knew he would keep. She was trapped, caught in a web of his making, with no way out.

The storm raged on around them, but in that moment, all Y/N could feel was the cold, unyielding grip of the man she used to fear, and the inescapable reality of her situation.

Y/N woke with a start, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the remnants of the nightmare clung to her mind. Her body was drenched in cold sweat, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t discern reality from the dream, the vivid images of the rain-soaked alley and Yoongi’s menacing presence still haunting her.

It was a memory that was hidden in the back of her mind to resurface when she’s the most vulnerable. It had happened a few times already, her mind showing her each time she attempted to escape the scarred leader.

She took a deep breath and listened to the mix of crackling fireplace and raindrops outside. His eyes were on her petite physique, his hands holding a book he was reading while she took a well deserved afternoon nap. He put down his reading glasses and ran a hand through his hair, closing the book and turning her attention to her.

“Which one was it this time?”

She turned to see him sitting beside her, his eyes filled with worry. The contrast between the Yoongi in her nightmare and the one before her now was stark. Gone was the cold, calculating predator; in his place was a man who genuinely cared for her well-being. He did change a little. Or maybe he was like that before but his selfishness didn’t allow him to show her his bright side.

Her legs moved to his lap when she was asleep, and he gently rubbed circles into her ankles, his touch soothing for once.

“Will you keep me safe?”

Yoongi's expression softened further, his gaze unwavering as he looked into her eyes. He knows that there were moments that haunt her till now. Moments he let happen with his cockiness.

“Always,” he replied, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”

“I just... I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

“Just rest, Dove,” Yoongi murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “I’ll be right here.”

After a few silent minutes, Y/N broke the calm silence.

“Can we play the piano?”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Together, they moved to the old piano in the corner of the room. As they sat side by side, their fingers tentatively began to touch the keys. Each note was a delicate thread, weaving together a tapestry of their unspoken emotions. The music became their secret language, a way to say everything they couldn’t put into words.

Every time she did not feel like speaking herself, they played. Until she felt better. Yoongi played with a gentle intensity, his fingers dancing over the keys with practised ease.

He was a better player, so she thought. Afterall, he had had more life to practice.

The medication made her more open to him. Sooner or later she’ll have to get off of it before it will become her only source of happiness. There were days it made her sleep well, drink, eat, breathe and live like the person she used to be. And there were days she sat in front of her vanity mirror knowing this effect is only temporary.

She cannot afford to get off of them while she’s remaining by his side. Her being would not take it and the prospect of freedom would be scarce. It blunted negative emotions which worked in the scarred boy’s favour.

It was working, but it was a question of time when she’ll develop tolerance and they won’t work anymore. That’s why Seokjin is desperately trying to convince Yoongi that he’ll have a way to help her. Permanently.

Yoongi knows that it would be just another mistake he would have to write under his name.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he whispered again, his words a promise and a plea. And in the quiet aftermath of their duet, she almost believed him.

In that fleeting moment, she wasn’t running, and Yoongi wasn’t chasing. They were simply two souls, lost in the music, trying to find their way back to each other. One more than the other.

His hand moved to cover hers on the keys, their eyes meeting in the stillness that followed. The world outside ceased to exist, the rain and the fire a distant backdrop to the intensity of their shared gaze.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Yoongi leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. Her heart raced, not with fear, but with a different kind of anticipation.

Their faces were inches apart, the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. His eyes flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, seeking permission, seeking assurance. Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“Unnie?!” Xiaoli's voice rang out, bright and oblivious. “We need to talk about—”

“Can you keep me safe from my own sister?” She scoffed playfully. His chuckle bounced on her lips as his lips still hovered just a breath away from hers, the paper door swung open with a sudden, sharp creak.

Taehyung stepped in behind her, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "Oh. We’re... interrupting, aren’t we?”

Yoongi pulled back slightly, his expression darkening as he turned to face them. Y/N felt the moment slipping away, the fragile connection disrupted.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked, his voice strained with barely concealed irritation.

“You invited us to have dinner, Hyung.” Taehyung reminded him, his tone a mix of apology and amusement.

Xiaoli’s eyes darted between Yoongi and Y/N, realisation dawning on her face. “Oh... we’re really sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in, Kkangpae Min.”

She apologised, still not her but always to him and him only. Y/N forced herself to smile. The woman that her sister became is not the same one she grew up with.

“There was nothing to interrupt, don’t worry,” she waved it off and Yoongi sighed, the tension in his shoulders evident.

—

The fleeting moment of intimacy with Y/N hung heavily in his mind. Before, during and after the dinner. He was extravagantly close to feel her lips on his again, just for the moment to be swept away.

Dinner was a mix of awkward silences and forced conversation. Xiaoli and Taehyung tried to lighten the mood, but the air was thick with unspoken words.

Yoongi, for his part, seemed distant, his mind clearly elsewhere. Every so often, his gaze would meet hers across the table.

“Will you come next week?” Xiaoli asked, sipping her wine.

Y/N, momentarily distracted from her thoughts, looked up.

“Next week?”

Y/N glanced at Yoongi, who was already looking at her. She hesitated, unsure of committing to anything he did not allow earlier.

“Yes, Y/N promised Bo Cheng to teach him how to ride a horse, and I have some business to attend to.” Yoongi cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“I could teach him,” Said Xiaoli, a bit jealous that their brother wanted Y/N to teach him when she was right there in the hotel.

Once Xiaoli and Taehyung will be with each other for eternity, the family of three then, will take their leave back to China.

The Triad leader attended his own business trips while his wife and children stayed with the “allying” clan.

He doesn’t know. None of them knows what Y/N did to herself, apart from Xiaoli, who herself doesn’t know every detail. They spreaded white lies to cover this “lapse of senses”. A misstep. Y/N hides the fading scar carefully to avoid any explanation. She wished to not tell them, and the kkangpae did not object to her wishes anymore. Whatever she wants, she gets. Usually, most of the time if she’s reasonable and clever about it.

The past months painstakingly helped them to get better. Or so Yoongi thought. Her priority was never to be his good wife, her priority is him thinking she will be his good obedient loving wife and when he won’t expect her to seek freedom anymore — she’ll disappear.

“I don't know about that, honey. You remember that nasty fall you took last year?” Her husband-to-be said nonchalantly. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Fall?—“ she asked, doubting his words.

“What are you talking about?” Xiaoli herself was surprised at his words. She did not recall any falls. Y/N knew Xiaoli isn’t the best rider, but she was decent enough to hold any situation that would make her fall from the horse under control.

“I don’t remember that,—” she said, taking another long sip from her glass.

“You’d certainly remember falling from a horse. Why don’t I know about this, Yoongi?” Said Y/N turning herself to the quiet man.

“I was having a hard time keeping you here as you loved to go for a run back then. It must have slipped my mind—“

“My sister falling from a horse slipped your mind?”

“He did not know Y/N, until a lot later. Right, Hyung?” Taehyung smiled sweetly at her, defending his Kkangpae. As always. Y/N clicked her tongue and gifted Yoongi with a penetrating stare creating another layer of tension in the room.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He cleared his throat, attempting to gather his thoughts. The last thing he wants is to mess up their relationship again.

“You’re right, love. I should have told you once I got to know that,” Yoongi admitting guilt is a new trait he acquired these past months.

“How did she fall?” Y/N aimed her question at Taehyung as her sister clearly doesn't remember it.

“It wasn’t probably that bad if I don’t remember it, Unnie. Don’t worry about it anymore—“ the younger female answered before her fiance had the chance to do so.

Y/N sighed loudly but the hand under the table that was gripping her younger sister’s thigh was not seen by her eyes.

—

It was hard to keep focus, especially with Seokjin constantly needing her assistance at work. His stern demeanour and meticulous nature kept her on her toes, but she appreciated the distraction. She knew why she was at his beck and call. Yoongi demanded so. Under any circumstances she ought to be next to Seokjin.

The ambulance in the sanctuary was significantly smaller than the big sanitorium in the town, but there was still some work to do here too.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and studying her intently.

“The usual,” she murmured, filling today’s report. Seokjin watched her for a moment, then brought the courage to ask.

“Have you been intimate?” Y/N dropped the pen at once and with wide eyes. She stared at him. The question came out of nowhere nor was it called for.

“Wh-what do you mean intimate?”

“Exactly what I said,” he replied calmly, not breaking eye contact.

“Have you been intimate with Yoongi again?”

“I don’t see how this is your business, Seokjin.” She felt her face flush with heat, a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“I’m not trying to pry. I’m your friend, but I’m also your doctor, sweetling—,” he said softly.

“Your health and well-being are my concern,” Seokjin explained. “And you know that if something’s affecting you emotionally or physically, it could impact your health.”

Bullcrap, he is in fact prying.

She was silent for a minute, trying to comprehend how he is taking care of her being this late. If she wouldn’t attempt to kill herself, these concerns wouldn’t be as great. But Y/N cannot afford to break havoc. She can’t go on rampage as she wants every single person here to think that she is moving towards being a good obedient wife of the Kkangpae. Even though she wants to scream to each and one of their faces about how much they failed her. How much they hurt her. Yet, patience is the key. Breathe, sleep, eat, endure.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then decided to change the topic.

“What about your wife?” Seokjin’s eyes flickered with surprise before he masked it with a neutral expression. Y/N barely knew the woman. Matter of fact she has seen her maybe three times since the wedding.

“Very much pregnant,” he said, his voice a mix of pride and weariness.

“Oh,” Y/N replied, taken aback. “I didn’t know. Congratulations, I guess.” Here comes another thing that Yoongi managed to keep from her.

“Thank you, my dear,” Seokjin said, a small smile touching his lips. “It’s been… an interesting journey, to say the least.”

“I can imagine,—” Y/N said, sensing there was more beneath the surface.

“Can you imagine yourself on that journey?” Seokjin interrupted, his gaze searching her face.

She pretended that the question took her by surprise, looking down at her hands to not give herself away.

“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. He is testing her. “It’s hard to think about that kind of future with everything that’s going on.”

Seokjin nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s understandable. But it’s something to consider. Maybe a baby would help you to shush your demons away.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the suggestion, and she forced herself to maintain her composure. “I… I don’t think a baby is the answer, Seokjin. There’s so much I need to sort out first.”

“Sometimes, having something to focus on, something to live for, can make all the difference,” Seokjin said gently.

She nodded, still feeling uneasy about the direction of the conversation. Opting not to give more than she would want to by not answering his remark and going back to finish the report.

“Just know that you have options. And that you don’t have to go through any of this alone.”

“Thanks,” she replied, offering a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Of course she won’t.

—

Y/N entered the dimly lit room where Yoongi was sitting, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp. He looked up as she closed the door behind her, his expression softened once he looked up from the papers. The office in the sanctuary remained the same apart from the fact that now the young Kkangpae occupies it far more often than before.

He took his glasses off and pushed himself away from the desk creating a space for her to come and stand in front of him, leaning against the massive wooden desk. Her hands felt the warmth of the wood that had been heated by the lamp, reflecting the same heat that radiated between them.

“Did you ask Seokjin to put thoughts into my head?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask him to, but I knew he would at some point try to give you some wisdom. What did he say?”

“That a baby would be the right treatment for me,” she replied, her voice tight with frustration.

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly, then he closed them and exhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry, Dove—“

“Do you think that too?” she asked, searching his face. “That a baby would magically fix everything?”

Yoongi shook his head, stepping up from his chair and closer to her. “No, I don’t. A baby isn’t a solution to our problems—“ she didn’t believe one word that was coming out of this mouth. He wouldn’t break his knuckles this hard if he didn’t want the baby that Y/N took care of not happening anytime soon. Her system was full of herbal remedies. And now that she knows, the herbs flowing in her system are working, she can use that to her advantage.

“But that would make you happy right?” She countered, seeing through him. Softening her mimics to appeal to him.

“Well, yeah, I want a family with you someday—“

“Someday? The bandages on your knuckles says that you’re pretty eager to have it now—” she scoffed and murmured under her nose.

Yoongi’s eyes for once reflected something she couldn’t quite recognise. There was a mix of desperation and longing that flickered there. His hand reached out, trembling slightly, and cupped her cheek gently.

“Dove, I want us to be happy, truly happy. But I know bringing a child into this world won’t erase your pain or solve our problems. We need to fix ourselves first—” His thumb brushed her cheek tenderly.

“I’m sorry for being selfish, my love,” she felt a tear escape her eye, rolling down to where his thumb could catch it. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch because that’s what always softens his edges.

After months, she has learnt what strings to pull to make him move just the way she wants to. Yet, Y/N knows that he isn’t that stupid to believe she suddenly wants to live with him happily ever after.

“I can pour us some wine. We can play the piano after dinner, hm?” He could feel her vulnerability, her heart laid bare before him. Or so he thought as she wanted him to think that. His hand continued to caress her cheek softly, his touch gentle yet laden with unspoken longing she sensed each time he attempted to get closer to her.

She nodded, a small pretentious smile playing on her lips as she stepped closer to him. The tension between them lingered.

He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “We will be good. We just need time with each other.”

He sat first, patting the space beside him, inviting her to join. Her fingers brushed the keys, eliciting a soft, mournful note. A melody that echoed in her mind far too often. An anthem for hurting. Weeping symphony, tears of sorrow.

He became far too respectful towards her boundaries which essentially was ruining all of her plans. Her fingers pressed the keys with delicate touch even when she wanted to smash them rock hard.

“Why this song?” She let the question hang in the air for a moment, her fingers poised above the keys as if weighing his words.

“Do you know what they interpret it as?” She finally said, her voice soft, barely audible above the lingering notes. Her eyes, once masked with a facade of calm, now revealed a flicker of the anguish she carried.

“Tell me,” he flipped the page of the notes book for her to continue the song.

“It’s a tale of unspoken grief, of wounds too deep to heal and shadows that never leave.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine as she said that. Part of him understood what message she was trying to leave and part of him wished he’s wrong.

“I view it as love lost and dreams shattered. They say it’s a lament for those who wander through life carrying burdens no one else can see.”

He carefully listened to all her words, all the notes she played, all her feelings she shared. Her fingers moved over the keys, each note a whisper of sorrow.

“The scars I carry inside,—“ His hand reached out to touch hers, a gesture of comfort. Stopping her from playing more.

“Let me help you carry that weight—“

“You created it in the first place.”

His eyes widened, a mixture of guilt and realisation flooding his expression. She pulled her hand away.

“The scars I carry, the emptiness I feel, they all trace back to you.”

His mind raced to comprehend the depth of her pain, trying to understand her intentions. It’s not like he ever expected her to say it out loud.

“You created emptiness in me Yoongi—“

He felt his heart clench with guilt and regret. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. It was nothing new. She heard his apologies but she was yet to accept them

She turned back to the piano, her fingers resting on the keys but not playing. “Intentions don’t change the past,” she said softly. “The pain remains—“

“But the future can learn from mistakes.”

“I will. I’ll learn—“ He began before she interrupted him.

“You need to fill the space now.” His eyes lit up listening to her words. In his mind, this was it. The holy grail. In her mind, she was wrapping him around her finger before she would bounce away like a pebble on the pond.

“Heal me if you must.”

These were her last words before the distance between them shrank, the intensity of their emotions drawing them closer. He leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest that she could almost hear it but Y/N didn’t pull away.

Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, a delicate brush that spoke of apology, of yearning, and of promises yet to be fulfilled. Her heart cried and the song remained echoing in her mind.

As they pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting against each other, Yoongi felt a warmth spread through him, chasing away the cold shadows of regret. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. His thoughts were swirling with one thing only — this was the real beginning of them. And it was the beginning.

The beginning of the end.

I N T E R L O G U E

The walls were lined with bookshelves, each shelf overflowing with dusty tomes and old papers. A large, ornate desk stood in the centre, its surface cluttered with stacks of documents.

Seokjin rarely sends her to this room as they also rarely stay in the hanok the sanctuary has for medical assistance to those who live here.

She approached slowly, her fingers brushing over the worn leather of a chair before settling on a stack of yellowed files that he asked to bring. It was then when her eyes caught the opened crimson red files that laid flat open on the desk. The ones that the doctor forgot to take with him the other time he had to run and tend to the lady of the house in the middle of the night. They stayed there, laid open, for several weeks. Touched by a thin layer of dust on top of it.

Kim Seokjin is renowned in his field of practice. Yet, this was going to be his great mistake. Inside, there were detailed medical records, notes written in a precise, almost mechanical hand. The words on the pages made her stomach churn—phrases like “prefrontal lobotomy,” “behavioural correction,” and “psychosurgical intervention” leapt out at her. She read on, horrified by the cold, clinical descriptions of procedures that seemed more like torture than treatment.

Her hand flew to her mouth to not let the wailing cry away.

Trembling, she pushed the file aside and reached for the next one. Not bearing what they’ve done to her sister. Y/N’s hands shook as she read through the files, each word a dagger to her heart. The clinical detachment with which the procedures were described made her feel sick. These were not just medical records—they were accounts of inhuman experiments carried out in the name of science, or more so — control.

The name on this file was all too familiar, it was Jin’s wife. He must have done it before the wedding as she seemed far too calm. Her heart pounded in her chest as she opened it, fearing what she might find. The contents were similar—detailed accounts of medical procedures, records of a lobotomy performed in a desperate attempt to “cure” her of what the notes described as “hysteria” and “unmanageable behaviour.”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She stumbled back from the desk, her mind reeling from the revelations. The room seemed to close in around her, the shadows deepening as the weight of what she had discovered settled on her shoulders.

The name on the empty file under those made her anxious, hysteric even more as the tag had Min Y/N written on it.

She wiped her tears but they couldn't stop falling.

“Y/N?”

.

.

.

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[maccharliedennis]

As someone who lives in the deep south and just experienced a literal nazi march in my city, you can fucking Forgive Me!!!!!! if I don't consider voting against biden to be a revolutionary fucking action.

Like yes this march happened under a biden presidency, and yes biden is conducting a fucking genocide and we cannot relent when it comes to rallying against that.

But uuuuhhhhh Hey! That fucking nazi march? That was in support of trump! And if rallying against bidens genocide is difficult NOW, just imagine how much MORE DIFFICULT it is going to get under a trump presidency!! Only ONE of these men can be beholden to the political pressure put upon them by their constituents. Only ONE of these men is beholden to the process of the transfer of power that is meant to occur in 2028.

So may jesus christ and all his holy fucking angels reign down mercy upon my doomed fucking soul for when I say that voting "for Palestine" in november feels like nothing more than a shallow personal pat on the back.

Like, yes. The electoral college ultimately decides who will take office. But more people voting against trump means more political pressure on them to choose correctly. And I Am So Fucking Sorry that you don't want to soil your self-perception by just sucking it up and voting for the """lesser evil"""" here. I dont want to fucking do that either.

But what EXACTLY is the endgame of this ?

Because there are only TWO possibilities:

1) you vote for Palestine and biden wins and he doesnt care bc he won. (And we continue to put pressure on him and protest against the genocide)

Or

2) you vote for Palestine and trump doesnt care bc he won, and he enacts Project2025 which makes it A HELL OF A LOT MORE FUCKING DIFFICULT TO PROTEST AGAINST THE GENOCIDE.

So what will that vote accomplish other than relieving political pressure for the electoral college? Legitimately I DO NOT UNDERSTAND the gameplan.

It is just appalling to me when people act like trump and biden are equally horrible, and I am sick to death of people acting like voting for biden is endorsing facism or is a pathetic liberal dismissal of his genocide.

It is a fucking safety measure. For all of america. For literally the entire fucking planet.

There will be no way to continue the current level of protest we are enacting rn if biden loses. trump will have us fighting so hard for our own lives that many of us will no longer be able to fght for the lives of others.

So get over your own feelings and fucking vote for biden if you care at all about the safety of others. We cannot allow the electoral college to feel any lack of political pressure from us.

Lmao. Lol even.

[calehenituse-brainrot]

Symphony

Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo x Transported!Reader

With blood, sweat, and tears.

tw: gore and cannibalism

Sometimes, Ron sees how anyone could think of his young master as a God, because who in their right mind would dare to challenge a God but another one of their own? 

Rosalyn's magic circle appeared on the island's surface, glowing red and magnificent as ever, covering the split trunk of the majestic tree like a dome, and right then, Cale descended from the sky like a God, his shirt torn at where his heart was and showed an ugly, distorted scar. Dried blood stains his pale skin and his shirt, and he looks absolutely awful.

"Human!" Raon cried out in relief. "What happened, human?! Where is [Name]?"

They all came to Cale, crowding him and immediately ready to abide by every order that drips from his lips. Cale pointed at the form of the ancient God, of vines and sticks imbued with divinity. "With that thing. He's planning to bring [Name] to the split trunk where he will most likely seal and fuse her with the island."

"What exactly is it?" Beacrox asked quietly, more to himself than to Cale.

But surprisingly enough, Cale turned to him and provided a vague answer, "If my guess is right... It could be her father."

"Her father?" Ron echoed, his eyes widening. "What does that--?"

"What are your orders?" Ron cuts off his son, frowning as he looks at his master. There was no time to sit down and explain the past nor to get a clear perspective on this situation. There are people with magical powers and Whales could turn to Whales. This was the least surprising thing.

When Cale finally spoke, his voice came out commanding and it immediately caused everyone to stood their ground. "[Name] is connected to the vines of that god. There could be a big possibility that she could still be freed from it. We will try to take her from that beast without doing much damage, but that's the best possible scenario. The worst would be destroying that island and the thing that sits atop of it."

Cale, Rosalyn, and Choi Han should have sustained a fatal injury from having the vines penetrating their heart and the moment it was taken out, they should have bled out to death, but they didn't. Instead, the open wound closed and healed quickly. Cale was pretty sure it was because the god's vines were actively healing you, and because your hearts had been connected with the very same vines, Cale, Choi Han, and Rosalyn's wounds were immediately healed.

It meant you wouldn't immediately die upon being detached from the god's vines.

You have a chance for survival.

"Your Highness, when it comes to it, please arrange for your men to do everything they can to destroy that island," Cale said to Withira. "The ancient God that resides in the island has grown weaker with that tree gone and could only focus on keeping the form they have now and keeping [Name] alive."

Withira's eyes widened, a chill running down her spine. There was something mind-boggling about the fact that the island that her predecessors had agreed to let be was going to be destroyed in her hands. She had lived with so many urban stories surrounding this island and now she was going to have it destroyed under her command.

Cale stared at the older woman. "Could you do it?" 

Withira glanced at the island, feeling the weight of the order. Despite how little the island's influence was to the Whale tribe's reign, Withira had grown up hearing all sorts of stories about it. It had become a small legend within their community and was consistently being passed down to calves. However, seeing the ragged looks of Cale and his company, how they looked at her almost desperately for her aid -- Withira couldn't possibly turn their request away just because she held a bit of a sentimental value to that island.

Withira nodded with a determined frown. "Please leave it to me."

Withira jumped back to the water, morphing into her whale form the moment she hit the water. Cale watched as she swam to the island and her men began to crash into the floating island, causing strong tremors to the island, trying their best to tilt the island and make sure it would break into smaller pieces.

Cale turned to Ron and Beacrox along with the kittens. "You will be responsible for evacuating [Name] to a safe distance. The moment we managed to bring her on top of this ship, head back to the continent without us if we took to long."

Ron bowed his head. "Understood, Young Master-nim."

"Raon," Cale called out to the dragon, smiling. Raon's eyes widened and glimmered before he was quickly beside Cale.

The Black Dragon sees something in his human's brown eyes. For months, Cale had been depressed. His light brown eyes would always reflect affection towards him and the others, but Raon sees so clearly that something in him must have died with you when Cale stepped back into the bedroom that day to inform them all of your death. 

Now, it's back alive. His eyes glimmered under the bright sun and the blue sky, determination and hope filling his face. His human looks filled with spirit.

"We'll be bringing [Name] home," Cale said to the dragon, and when he said that, Raon heard how much Cale meant it. To himself or Raon, the Black Dragon wasn't sure. Cale smiled endearingly, "Are you ready?"

Raon nodded, smiling brightly. "Yes!"

Wind gathered around Cale's feet and he flew back to the island, Raon flying beside him and heading towards the ancient god that was fighting Choi Han. The wind has never felt so suffocating and yet so freeing to Cale. He flew with the determination that he would not come back without you and he recognized that he might be so desperate that he could screw all of this up and he would never be able to see you again. You're so close to him, so close that he could hold you once more.

Choi Han was slicing every single branch that came after him and every single one grew rapidly as if it was the head of a Hydra. Rosalyn's magic circle was constantly shooting out fire after fire toward the lump of branches that was carrying you, her eyes rapidly looking through every nook and cranny of the beast to see if there was any indication of a weak spot that wasn't anywhere near where you were. Her keen eyes seemed to be moving at a speed that Cale himself couldn't comprehend, analyzing every weakness she could take advantage of.

'Give me something!' Rosalyn thought, her teeth gritting in restlessness as she looked for an opening within the god's physical form, watching it drag itself along with you on top back to the hollowed gigantic tree in the middle of the island. It felt like once it reached the tree, they would lose you forever. Rosalyn wasn't going to sit around and see whether her assumptions are true or not.

The god's physical form was similar to the silhouette of an octopus crawling on land, dragging his body along the ground with you on its back. When one of the "tendrils" of the god was raised and showed the tiniest opening under it, Rosalyn conjured another magic circle and aimed it towards that opening, blowing up that bit of the arm and watched with a horrified expression as that part of the god's form was blown up to bits and rotten dead bodies spilled out to the ground. The smell of rotten and burnt corpses immediately filled her senses and she gagged, feeling like her gut was going to come up to her throat at the horrid smell.

Choi Han paused for a moment and looked down at the branches that he had cut down, his face pale as he realized the multiple faces etched onto them.

"Cale-nim!" Choi Han yelled to Cale who was up in the air with Raon. "It's not wood! They're dead bodies!"

Cale could see the dozens of rotten bodies that were on the ground and how they seemed to melt into the ground, turning into mounds of vegetation and leaving the scent of rotten bodies despite how they have turned into plants.  

'No wonder you weren't able to control them,' the priestess said with disgust. 'That god's form is made up of his worshippers. It could also be why they could still survive for so long despite all their followers being dead.'

It made sense now why the graves were empty. The god had fused all the physical bodies of his late followers to form his new physical form. It was perhaps his last attempt to earn some sense of recognition as a deity before being forgotten forever, or at least until the beliefs of enough people began to manifest him again. 

Cale flew down next to Rosalyn and Choi Han immediately followed to listen to their orders. Cale looked at the vegetation by his feet and he pitied them, to know that the god these people have loved dearly was able to do this, to disrupt the peace of dead people and desecrate their resting place, without feeling an ounce of hesitancy for their selfish reason. This god did not deserve worship.

"Your orders?" Rosalyn asked, beads of sweat falling down her temple as she panted.

"Destroy the island," Cale said with a frown. "We'll be wasting our time if we only work on killing that god physically. Leave nothing behind. That god could move because this island preserved their images. A god is no good when they have nothing."

"Raon," Cale turned to the Black Dragon. "Relay my words to Her Highness Withira: We plan to destroy this island for good. We need the Whale tribe to make sure every piece sinks or destroyed."

Without many words other than an affirmative "I got it", Raon took off to search for Withira. Cale turned to Choi Han and Rosalyn, placing his hands on their shoulders. "Our job is to separate [Name] from that god. Choi Han, you will be our offense. Miss Rosalyn, our defense."

"Yes!" Both nodded, determined frowns on their faces.

Cale offered his hand to Rosalyn and Rosalyn grinned, jumping into Cale's arms before wind gathered around his feet and they flew off while Choi Han easily scaled the god's form, heading towards where you were. Cale stepped next to where you were laying and set Rosalyn down. The god began to let out a deafening scream, pausing on moving around and the branches began to thrash as if disgusted and angry they were on top of him.

"Han!" Cale yelled and Choi Han brought his sword to immediately slice the vines that were connected to your heart. Upon being broken off from you, the god's form suddenly began to morph and formed hands to grab at their ankles.

Choi Han cut down the hands and grabbed Rosalyn before jumping off from the god meanwhile Cale grabbed you, hugging you close to him before he mustered all his energy to summon the wind to his feet, and Choi Han led themselves back to where Ron was waiting.

Ron didn't wait for Cale to step onto the boat. He extended his arms out to hold your warm body, his breath shaky as he finally had you in his arms. There was a moment where he simply held you, his head tilted to lean to yours. For the first time in his life full of blood and violence, Ron uttered a prayer of relief that no blood was shed.

Thank God.

Ron let his lips curl down into a small smile, setting you down gently on the floorboards before he took off his coat and handing it to Beacrox to fold so Ron could check on your vitals. Beacrox slipped Ron's folded suit jacket under your head, both of them watching the vines connected to your heart shrivel up into what looked like the bones of an arm, a radius and an ulna hanging by while the rest of the hand and fingers must be inside your chest.

Cale assumed it had been one of the corpses' arm that had been morphed into vines.

Once Cale deemed that you were safe, he flew towards where Withira was and watched as the whales around the island began to slam themselves into the floating island, causing the god to scream and begin to have their form thrash all around the island and stab at the whales. 

"MY DAUGHTER!" the god screamed, their voice similar to your father's voice that Cale had heard, confirming his suspicions. 

"GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER!" the god continued to scream, their voice loud enough to disrupt the wind and water similar to what a shock wave does, pushing them all back as thousands of voices began to cry and scream along. It sounded like hell

"Pull back!" Withira screamed out to her people, her hands covering her ears.

'Do you think I can do this without dying?' Cale thought to the Fire of Destruction, dark clouds gathering on top of the floating island while the god was thrashing around. The dark clouds that were gathering were more than usual, menacing and bundled up in thick lumps that seemed closer to reach.

'If you do, it'll be one hell of a story to tell,' the Fire of Destruction says with a small chuckle as Cale takes a deep breath, and blood begins to drip from his nostrils.

"Human?" Raon called, alarmed at the sheer amount of power that seemed to be emanating from Cale's small body.

Rosalyn looked up at Cale in the air before she realized her hair was standing up, red tresses rising into the air as if she was electrocuted. She looked around, seeing that everyone was looking at each other in confusion as they looked at each other's hair.

"We have to get away!" Rosalyn screamed, alarming everyone. "We have to get away or we'll get hit by the lightning!"

Withira looked up at Cale before she turned around, looking back at her men. "Let's go!"

Archie began to swim away, dragging the boat behind him. Raon flew up to where Cale was, seeing that he wasn't only bleeding from his nose but his mouth and ears as well. "Human!"

"Raon," Cale says, his arms slowly extending toward the dark cloud. "You'll have my back, won't you?"

Raon stared at Cale with his big eyes, almost tearing up. His voice shakes when he begins to speak, "Y-Yes, you can count on me! I am the M-Mighty Raon Miru!"

"Good." 

For a moment, the sky was a serene expanse canvas of a bleak gray, filled with Cale's dark thunderclouds. A speckle of red float near the island. Cale looking down towards the life that moves underneath his space and it seemed like everything was in slow motion. He sees Withira, crying out for her whales, Jack swimming away from the island, the life that stood at the boat he pulls, and the plethora of life in the sea that swam around from a safe distance.

The air stilled around him as he exhaled.

The quiet before the storm.

They first saw the hundreds of jagged streaks of rosegold split the sky open, each one a bolt that was a testament to Cale's raw, incandescent Ancient Power. Each bolt struck down and began to dance together in wild, erratic patterns, crisscrossing the firmament continuously, one after another. For a moment it seemed like the sun had approached them, their eyes blinded and burned by them.

A symphony of chaos began almost immediately. Thunderous roars erupt, screams that were so primal tearing through the heavens as if the Earth was begging for mercy. The air became alive and they felt it by the way their skin prickles and their hairs rising. The god below the dancing flashes screamed, seeking help from their daughter, from their fellow divine beings, and was unfortunately turned away the moment his voice drowned between the roars of a mere human's power.

The kittens hid by your shoulders as you lay still on the boat, wanting to protect you despite their fears. It was the first time they saw Cale use an enormous amount of power to this extent and they feared over the fact that they could lose him in exchange for you. Archie positioned his body to rise from the water's surface and let his body be hit by the shock wave, protecting the people on the boat. Ron held you down to the floorboards to make sure you wouldn't slip away.

Cale felt the first raindrop fall before it came heavy and fast, the accumulation of water vapor in his clouds. He coughs up blood, his heart squeezing in his chest and Cale almost feels like falling. He could faintly hear Raon's cries and the way the Dragon was cuddling up to his chest. Cale hugs the small dragon, his eyes nearly closing. Both of them were drenched in the heavy rain.

"Human, stop!" Raon cried out. "T-that's too much!"

Cale's eyes were barely open but he managed to look down, seeing how the island was mostly black, singed off. The smell of rotten corpses reminded him of his previous world. He felt his ear becoming wet. His vision was blurring.

He bit his tongue.

'Cale, stop!' The Fire of Destruction called out, but Cale did not heed the orders of the voices. 

Each raindrop fell, illuminated by the constant flashes of the prettiest rosegold, glistening like diamonds before they hit the waters. His powers sway together in a disorganized ballet, the sky being his canvas to show off his untamed Ancient Power. His powers were the textbook definition of how the power of nature's beauty and destruction could coexist. He was terrifying and mesmerizing.

Soon, as suddenly as it all began, the storm moved on. The lighting fades, the thunder finally retreats, and the sky falls silent once more. Cale's eyes finally closed and he couldn't even slip into a fall because Raon was by his side, holding onto him and immediately teleporting both of them back to the ship, where they all await him.

Withira looked towards the ship, her ears still ringing. She looked back to where the island used to be, seeing only bits of the island floating around along with heaps of rotten corpses. She has never seen Cale's powers to this extent. The memory of those hundreds of flashes of lightning lingers in her head, etched into her mind like a series of vivid, electrifying dreams. 

In the aftermath, the clouds finally scattered and the sky returned to its tranquil blue.

"Check if anything of that beast survives," Withira says to one of her men before she turned back into a human and jumped into the boat to check on everyone. She sees that you and Cale were laid down on the floorboards, Cale's face and his sides drenched in blood. "Are they okay?" 

"She's okay," Ron says softly, checking your vitals once more to make sure he's not hallucinating from adrenaline. He looked at Beacrox who was checking on Cale and Beacrox nodded. "He's fine... Surprisingly."

Rosalyn kneeled beside Ron, holding your hand and lifting it to her lips. She closed her eyes before tears slowly gathered in her eyes as she recalled the harsh life you had to endure, fueled with relief that you're now here and alive. "I'm so glad..."

Choi Han smiled, sitting criss-crossed next to Cale's body as Archie began to swim back towards the continent. Raon curled himself under Cale's arm, closing his eyes and bumping his nose into Cale's palm. For the first time in months, everyone felt lighter. The breeze of the ocean, the sea spraying at them, and the sounds of the whales swimming back have never felt so freeing.

Rosalyn looked down before she let out a soft laugh. "I think... I think this is the first time we have the two of them knocked out like this."

Choi Han looked at her in confusion before he laughed, realizing that she was right. Usually, when Cale was unconscious due to overexerting himself, you'll take over and lead, and vice versa. Now, with both of you unable to lead them, they all feel a bit aimless.

"I'm glad I have my sister back," Rosalyn whispered, sighing as she laid down next to you on the floorboards, holding your hand.

Beacrox let a small smile slip, closing his eyes and finding himself feeling the same as the great Archmage.

You stood in a space, feeling the wind blowing your hair while the image of your father standing a few feet away from you. He looked older than you recalled he was supposed to be. His hair was longer, the wrinkles on his face deeper, and his eyes seemed to reflect the melancholy of someone who had lost everything.

"Why are you here?" You asked him softly, tilting your head. This was supposed to be your memories and you don't recall seeing your father age like this because he had gone missing the day your mother's funeral was held.

"I... don't know," your father mumbled. "I just wanted to see you one more time. Try again."

You stilled once you finally recognized his voice. It finally clicked why the voice sounded so familiar. "You... You're the voice that's been talking to me for months."

"I am," your father confirmed.

"H-How?!" You exclaimed, coming up to him and nearly falling to your knees when you could touch him. "I-I can touch you."

Your father reached for you, his arms wrapped tightly around you. For so long, you have been wandering in some transcendental realm and watching your life play out over and over again as if it were some kind of sickening exposure therapy to all the things that have happened to your life. John had faded a long time ago and you have been alone without being able to feel any warmth at all. This warmth came from someone who had attributed to your suffering, and dear God, it feels so relieving.

"I'm getting weaker," your father murmured. "It's time for me to retire."

You placed your hands on his shoulders, pushing him away to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"You've gained so many people who knows and loves you," he continued, cupping your cheeks before you slapped his hands away. "You're perfect."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You spat at him, looking at him with wide eyes. 

"You have to continue this for me, [Name]," he continued on, looking at you expectantly. "There are so many memories of people within me. They can't just die with me. They need to go on."

"What are you saying?" You asked him, confused and slightly flabbergasted at his words. Memories? He was dying?

"When I came to this world, I was confused," he began. "Just like you. I don't age and I... I don't know. Those people, they started believing I was something divine."

"You tricked those people," you concluded with your face pale. 

Your father shakes his head. "I did not! They chose me!"

"And now I choose you," he murmured, his hand coming up and he pushed his hand through your chest and you let out a gag, shocked at how he could easily pierce through your chest. To make matters worse, you can physically feel him grasping at your heart and you hated how you could suddenly feel your heart pumping your blood.

You let out a strangled groan, something intangible from your father's hands streaming into your heart. Your heart was beginning a violent drum, each throb was a jolt that physically hurt you, aches that radiated to your ribs and the rhythm made you grimace with every pulse. There is no reprieve, no steady cadence to catch—just relentless, piercing strikes. Your heart was beating like a dancer that steps on broken glass with every step, agony with every breath.

Your world blurs, your sight and hearing fading into a haze of pain. Each pulse of your heart echoes throughout your body like a hammer blow that reverberates into your bones, shaking your core. The only thing that left your lips was the language of endless torment, each beat a cry, and each pause a breathless gasp.

Your heartbeat was a relentless reminder of your mortal state. Pain blossoms with each irregular thump, spreading through the chest like wildfire. You are not born for this divinity. You are not meant for this.

Yet, in this painful symphony, there is a desperate, fierce will—a heart that, despite the pain, refuses to surrender, fighting on with every agonizing beat. 

"You don't have any fucking right--!"

You let out a shrill scream, grabbing at your father's wrinkly face and dug your nails into his skin. He screamed loudly, the sound ringing your ears. You almost gag when your finger dug into his eyeball before you solidified your courage and immediately push your hands further, letting out a pained scream when you could feel his eye sockets, his blood dripping to your hands and going down into your arm. 

He grasped at your heart, squeezing it painfully and your screams echoed through the empty space. You pulled yourself away from him, screaming as you feel each vein and tendon of your heart being ripped from its place, and before you knew it, you lay on your back, a bleeding, gaping hole in your chest where your heart was supposed to be. Without the heart that has been pulsing torment into your body, you could finally breathe properly. 

Your father opens his mouth, his cheeks ripping before he swallows your heart whole into him. He swallowed it down in a painful gulp, seemingly waiting for something and when that something did not come, he looked betrayed. Furious.

Before you could get up, your father pinned you down and his hands clawed at your chest, your skin ripping under his sharp nails and you cried out, feeling your skin ripped layer by layer until your ribs showed. "Bare yourself to me! Give unto me!"

You reached out to his face again, nails digging into his skin and ripping his face, the same way he had ripped your chest open. You dug your fingers into where his eye socket was, making sure your grip was strong and ripped him away as hard as you can off of you. He rolled around like an animal kicked and you used the moment to stand up again.

Without your heart, you feel alive.

You panted, watching his form lunge at you, his eyes crazed. You ducked almost immediately and took a step to the side, grabbing his arm and immediately twisting it with your whole body. Once he was down, you placed your heel into his neck, stomping on it until you could hear a horrifying crack. You keep his neck under your heel as you twist his arm with a force that makes the sky shudder. The pain in his eyes is a mirror of the anguish he had inflicted on you. 

You twist it until you could hear the crack, screaming out as you moved your heel to his shoulder, keeping his shoulder in place while you began to pull at his arm until it was torn off of his shoulder. You threw away the arm, panting as the blood fell onto your face and your eyes, mingling with your sweat and tears. 

The god shook, letting out a pained scream as he held onto his shoulder. He slowly got up, watching you stumble after using most of your energy to tear his arm apart. He watched you, realizing that standing before him was a human that was the epitome of resilience.

You panted, your chest left a bleeding, gaping hole. Your chest was ripped by his nails, raw as your flesh bled and some of the tissues dangled. Some of your ribs showed, your flesh hanging onto it. You looked up at him, your eyes filled with hatred and betrayal.

When he finally approached you, there was something that changed. You did not dance around his claws and blows. You let yourself be maimed. Your nails grasp at whatever you can of him, scratching and tearing at his skin like an animal that had been cornered. Your bodies twist and writhe, a brutal dance of rage and betrayal. Your nails find purchase in his flesh, tearing through the divine facade to the vulnerable core beneath. Each rip is a catharsis, a reclamation of every piece of your spirit that he tried to rob of you. He retaliates, his hands gripping you, rending skin and sinew in a desperate bid to subdue you.

A god cannot subdue you, much less your father.

He was no longer both in your eyes.

You could feel it. His powers wane with every shuddering breath, every wound you inflict. Pain and spite fuel you -- fuck love, fuck faith, and fuck these fucking gods. Each slash of your nails is a declaration that you will no longer be bound to the past, to what doesn't matter, to these fucking people.

You finally toppled on top of him, your nails brutally digging into his chest. His screams of torment did not deter your goal. In fact, it is the symphony of your triumph. You ripped every layer of his flesh and once you felt his ribs, you grabbed one after another and broke it with brute strength. His beating heart lay bare before you and you grinned.

"H-hell..." He muttered, laying helplessly there as you grasped at his heart. "T-this is hell..."

You stayed quiet, tearing his chest open with one hand and the other ripping his heart out.

You sat on top of the corpse of the man you knew once as your father, holding his heart in your hands.

Your nails dug into it and once you tore it open, you found a single dianthus flower, withered and its petals bathed in blood.

[jessamine-rose]

‧̍̊˚ᵕ⋆Part of Your World⋆ᵕ˚‧̍̊

After two months and several “Part of Your World” loops, my Yandere Mermaid AU has been written!! I hope you all enjoy these tragic fairytales featuring Capitano, Pantalone, Dottore, and Pierro ϵ( 'Θ' )϶

Tw:: yandere, violence, death, kidnapping

♡ 2.5k words under the cut ♡

Shark! Capitano x Coral Reef Fish! Mermaid

♡ Humans and mermaids alike are afraid of Capitano due to the misconceptions about sharks. It doesn’t help that he is considered intimidating even by his own species—a masked hunter who reigns victorious over every feeding frenzy, adorned with scars from his deceased opponents.

♡ In contrast to his fearsome reputation, he is actually one of the calmer creatures of the sea. He mainly keeps to himself and avoids unnecessary violence, confident in his ability to survive alone. So it comes as a surprise when Capitano swims into your coral reef and scares away the mermaids who were bullying you.

♡ He understands your initial fear of him. You are quite the little mermaid, a weaker species of coral reef fish, though your scarred tail is proof of your capacity to defy natural selection. And you achieve another victory as Capitano gently asks if you are all right.

♡ Your quiet “Thank you” results in more encounters. He soon becomes your attentive companion, leading to more peace in your coral reef. The two of you regularly admire the sea anemone and swim together, the distance between you disappearing in no time.

♡ You’ve watched Capitano hunt on a few occasions; and while his strength is terrifying, the spectacle reminds you that he can keep you safe from other species. (Come to think of it, what happened to your bullies?) Likewise, he accepts the algae and small animals you’ve hunted from tiny crevices, affectionately calling you his little hunter.

♡ You even visit his home! His cavern is located in the deep sea, with less sunlight and more aggressive mermaids who mistake you for Capitano’s meal. Don’t worry, he is quick to scare them away and escort you to his safe territory. Look, he has a pretty collection of sea anemone which he knows you’d love.

♡ It’s strange, really. To Capitano, you are no worthy competitor nor a species with symbiotic relations to shark mermaids. So why do you bewitch him? Why does he feel the urge to protect you? Why are his instincts telling him to bite you, not as a prey but as a mate?

♡ He tries to repress those urges. He really does—it would be an offense to your own resilience. How fitting, then, that his boiling point is triggered by the worst predator known to your kind, a group of humans who catch you in a net and drag you up to their boat.

♡ Needless to say, a rare mermaid attack is reported that day. In the wake of the carnage, all you can do is tearfully hug Capitano and thank him for saving you. But the bloodshed does little to calm him. His little mermaid was almost stolen from him. How many more predators are eager to harm you?

♡ It’s too late for you. Before you can swim out of his grasp, Capitano holds you more tightly and makes his decision. The world is merciless to the weak, so you are to stay by his side from now on. It is his only way to ensure your safety.

♡ Well, look on the bright side. With Capitano as your provider, you are never alone in the sea—not that you could leave his territory without him, given his predatory neighbors. He still allows you to swim freely so long as he is there to protect you, and who can forget the many sea anemones he brings home for you?

♡ You can only pray that you survive your new role as his mate. Capitano may be willing to accommodate your softer flesh and courtship rituals, but the difference in strength is apparent. If he isn’t careful, his bites could become fatal…not that he would ever harm his beloved.

Jellyfish! Pantalone x Exotic Pet! Mermaid

♡ Pantalone is regarded as the jewel of the sea. Everything about him is perfect, from his graceful demeanor to his ethereal jellyfish features. Beneath that languid veneer, he is quite skilled in navigating the dangers of the deep sea and preying on unsuspecting creatures.

♡ When a ship capsizes in the midst of a storm, he takes advantage of the situation. He kills stings several humans, collects their valuables, and comes across a new treasure. A pretty mermaid trapped in a large aquarium, gazing at him with wide-eyed wonder.

♡ He easily deduces your identity. You are a rare mermaid raised by humans, a pampered pet who doesn’t know how to survive in the wild. And you have nowhere to go, seeing how your owners have either drowned or abandoned you.

♡ In that case, why don’t you stay with Pantalone? He must be a reliable mermaid if he’s willing to set you free and welcome you into his territory! His cavern is larger than your old aquariums, furnished with a gorgeous collection of pearls, human trinkets, and other treasures. And you fit right in with your shimmery scales and bright smiles.

♡ It takes a while for you to adapt to the wild. Outgrowing your expensive meals is easier said than done, much less learning how to hunt. You’re also a slow swimmer due to being raised in captivity, but Pantalone is patient enough to wait for you. He is a warm presence, always watching over you and educating you in How to be a Mermaid.

♡ He is also incredibly beautiful, which is high praise from an exotic pet. How can you not approach him when he illuminates the dark with his bioluminescent features? How can you not accept his offer to share body heat on cold nights, tails intertwined? How can you not applaud his underwater dances, unaware that it is a courtship ritual?

♡ You’re really lucky to have met him, you know? That is what Pantalone says whenever he stops you from meeting other mermaids and leaving his territory unsupervised. Had you met another sea creature, you would’ve quickly succumbed to the natural order of the world. You’re so naive and helpless, but he is willing to put up with it.

♡ Furthermore, something must be done about your view of humans. Despite the truth to his horror stories, it’s still common for Pantalone to pull you away from the surface and scuba divers. How many times has he warned you against showing yourself to humans? Don’t you know that the creatures who imprisoned you are just as likely to turn you into sashimi?

♡ Your shared life is perfect. So why are you suddenly saying goodbye to him? Pantalone can only stay silent when you tell him that you’d like to find your natural habitat. Your species isn’t meant for the deep sea and you feel guilty for freeloading. At the end of your speech, you leave the cavern to give him some space.

♡ That was your plan until Pantalone reaches out and stings you with his tentacles. He is incredibly apologetic about it, checking your wounds with cold hands and a calm smile. Oh dear, he’s so sorry. It seems that he let his emotions get the best of him. Why don’t you come back inside, darling? In your current condition, you would be easy prey.

♡ You listen to him. Eventually, you agree with Pantalone that you’d made an unconscionable decision. How could you possibly survive in the wild without him? Why put yourself in danger when you already have a perfect mate to care for you? You’re already home.

Octopus! Dottore x Marine Biologist! Human

♡ Octopus mermaids are perceived as intelligent troublemakers, and Dottore lives up to that reputation. His curiosity of the human world has caused many near-sightings, human deaths, and criticism from his peers but who is he to shy away from forbidden knowledge?

♡ It is during one research expedition that he meets a like-minded scientist. You are diving solo when Dottore reveals himself, and you react with genuine excitement. Not conventional fear, greed, or cruelty but pure fascination towards a foreign creature—a sentiment which he reciprocates.

♡ He is cautious, of course, but you remain undeterred by his bared fangs and clouds of ink. You carefully approach him and communicate with hand signals, to which Dottore surprises you with a few human words learned from previous research.

♡ An unlikely friendship is formed. Over time, you and Dottore secretly meet in the same area to share information and learn about each other. The language barrier remains an issue but you soon gain a rudimentary understanding of his speech patterns.

♡ While most humans equate octopi to sea monsters, you are clever enough to discover the truth on your own. You politely study Dottore’s mermaid biology, marveling over his grip strength and the suction marks he leaves on your skin. Likewise, you allow him to poke your legs and squeeze you with his tentacles. Half the time, the latter is an involuntary action which he tries to deny.

♡ One day, he follows you to the surface! Dottore has visited the surface before but it’s different when you are part of the view. Above water, you can remove your diving mask and speak to him clearly. An important observation is made: You have an attractive face. He’d like to see your expressions more often.

♡ Unfortunately, the moment is interrupted by an approaching boat. Quickly, you push him underwater and speak with the sailors. Thankfully, they don’t notice your companion and offer you a ride back to shore. You comply, unaware that Dottore is still watching you.

♡ What an unwelcome intrusion, he thinks bitterly. Despite your sociobiological boundaries, he can’t deny his fondness for you. The involuntary hugs from his tentacles, this odd feeling in all three of his hearts…could it be? Is such an attraction pursuable?

♡ Well, Dottore hasn’t been accused of witchcraft for nothing. In your following visits, he is more rigid in his research. He collects more human data, takes a few DNA samples from you, and acts clingy during your departures. You brush it off as an ordinary change in mood; it’s not like you could ask about it, anyway.

♡ One day, he guides you to the deep sea for some local mermaid games. You’re having so much fun that it comes as a total shock when Dottore forcibly removes your diving mask. For a few minutes, he restrains you with his tentacles and watches your distress with a cold, calculative expression. A deep kiss follows, flooding your throat with a bitter sedative.

♡ You know something is wrong as soon as you wake up. Dottore is looming over you with a frightening grin and when he speaks, you can understand him? That is when you notice the gills on your neck, the scales littering your skin, the mermaid tail in place of your legs.

♡ Aren’t you impressed? It took him ages to create a permanent transformation potion, and he even accommodated your favorite marine species! Now he can see your lovely face all the time and show you parts of the sea which no human can explore. Worry not, Dottore will guide you through your adjustment. The two of you will be closer than ever.

Orca! Pierro x Rescuer! Human

♡ Orca mermaids are no stranger to animal cruelty. Pierro can attest to that, having lost his habitat and escaped captivity. So when he washes up on shore, too weak and dispirited to resist the currents, he thinks it is the end for him.

♡ Only to be proven wrong by a compassionate human who lives near the sea. Before anyone can see him, you bring the beached mermaid home and put him in your bathtub. You add some foam pillows, treat his wounds, and wait for him to wake up.

♡ Pierro is naturally distrustful at first but there’s only so much he can do inside a bathtub. Apart from your concern, you are naturally curious about him and surprised by his fluency in human languages, an ability exclusive to his species.

♡ For a human, you’re oddly empathetic. Recognizing the social needs of orca mermaids, you spend hours in your bathroom to chat with your new companion. You introduce him to human culture by providing personal stories and warm meals which taste a thousand times better than the stale fish fed to captive animals.

♡ As the weeks pass, Pierro grows to trust you. You treat him like a companion, not a beast or pet, and go the extra mile to keep him comfortable. While he is embarrassed to sit in an inflatable kiddie pool, he’s willing to set aside his pride for more interactions in your home.

♡ Once his wounds have healed, you bring him to shore and set him free. In the dead of the night, you have enough time to properly say your goodbyes and wish Pierro a safe future. He thanks you one last time and disappears below the surface, leaving you to resume your ordinary life.

♡ Months later, you are roaming your neighborhood when you bump into a familiar person. It’s Pierro, appearing distinctly human with his two legs and fancy suit. After the initial shock wears off, he explains that he took a transformation potion to visit you. The effect wears off in three days; until then, would you be so kind as to give him a tour of your world?

♡ You eagerly accept. In his human form, Pierro can properly explore your house and natural habitat. The two of you go on several outings, eat your meals at your dining table, and share your bed. He regards your bathtub and kiddie pool with endeared nostalgia.

♡ On the third day, you cook a special farewell feast and invite Pierro to visit another time. He thanks you again, for both your hospitality and your previous act of compassion, but makes one clarification: Who said that he is saying goodbye?

♡ You aren’t given a warning before Pierro physically overpowers you and twists your leg. Calmly, he carries you to bed and soothes your pained cries. Walking is quite inconvenient, isn’t it? All it takes is a single injury, a shift in balance or gravity, for a human to be incapacitated.

♡ Well, Dottore’s the Sea Witch’s potion was worth it. He still has a few days before the effect wears off, enough time to decide on what to do with you. You see, darling, you’re too precious to him. How can he search for a new home when he has already found one in you?

♡ Now he just needs to decide whether he’ll remain a human or drag you to the deep sea and permanently turn you into a mermaid. It’s a difficult choice, seeing how either of you must make a sacrifice. But one thing is certain: Wherever you go, land or sea, he will be a part of your world.

♡

Read the sequel + more mermaid lore ʚʘ͜͡))❨

Fufufu which Harbinger’s story was your favorite?? The mermaid brainrot and nostalgia was very strong in this one. If the couples seem familiar, that’s cuz I incorporated the characters and darlings from my Yandere! Harbinger longfic series~

A big thank you to @diodellet for beta-reading this and putting up with more of my nonsense. And to the fishfuckers, I know you exist. I hope you are happy u_u

Tag a Harbinger enjoyer!! @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @nicebonescomrades @harmonysanreads @ansy-tea @leftdestiny-posts @thescribeoflostmemories @kocherry @gum-iie @oofasleep @crypticbibliophile @yanmaresu @frogchiro @lcveaesop @shumidehiro @mirdance @surveyycorps @theinnerunderrain @teabutmakeitazure

[kanansdume]

I have SO MANY feelings about Kanan, Zeb, and Rex all being some of the last few survivors of dying cultures.

Even though the Jedi can pass on their teachings and there will always be more Force sensitive people in the galaxy, the specific culture of the Prequels Jedi that Kanan grew up with will never completely come back. Jedi like Ezra and Luke will share a lot of similarities, obviously, especially philosophically, but their way of life and traditions will look VERY different, as will whatever ends up evolving from them (and from Rey if we include the Sequels).

Similarly, Zeb finds the Lasat on Lira San, but those Lasat will presumably have a VERY different culture than the one that existed on Lasan. The two groups of Lasat have been separated for so long that Lira San has become legend and is thought to not really exist and even the people who believe it exists don't realize what it actually is and that there are other Lasat on there. This implies that it's been an EXTREMELY long time since the Lasat of Lasan originally left Lira San and the two groups have probably diverged quite a bit. Lira San itself is also just not going to feel like Lasan, it won't have the same landscapes or wildlife, the cities will be different. The language might even have some significant differences that the last three Lasan survivors would have to navigate. And there's no getting back that culture from Lasan, it's gone. There's only three known survivors and they're going to end up just... engulfed into the Lira San culture without a lot of ability to pass on what they remember from Lasan. Lasan might end up like... a chapter in a Lira San history text and that's probably it. The nuances of its culture will be lost completely.

And the clones. The clones are just going to completely disappear. People will likely only remember the clones even existed because the war got named after them. All they'll be remembered FOR is violence and death. Depending on who is talking about them, they'll either be the traitors who destroyed the Jedi and allowed the Empire to reign, or the poor pawns that the Empire used to destroy the Jedi and keep the galaxy under its thumb. Who they were will be completely and utterly lost. And there's no way for them to continue in any form. While it's POSSIBLE that a few of them might have sired children out in the galaxy somewhere, we never have any confirmation of that, and nearly all of them are dead by the time the Empire falls. Their friendship with the Jedi, what little culture they were able to develop, all of that is lost to time and will disappear once the final clone dies.

It's such a horrific thing that is happening to these three characters, a slow dying out that that's literally happening in front of their very eyes. It's the worst kind of connection between the three of them, but something that's probably really important in their various relationships. No one else understands this grief the way they do, no one else quite understands how this feels, the helplessness and hopelessness. There's absolutely nothing they can do but try to keep going and remember their people as best they can and live according to the culture the Empire has tried to eradicate.

I like to think the three of them end up discussing it one day, maybe one Empire Day they all just decide to go drinking and be maudlin together. And Kanan ends up talking about how the Jedi believed that there was no death, there was the Force. Everyone who dies rejoins the Force, so even if they're gone they're still impacting the galaxy and the people living in it, regardless of whether those who remain can feel them or not. Maybe you get a burst of inspiration or have a lucky break or meet someone you instantly click with, and maybe that's the people who've left before you still touching your life through the Force, binding you together no matter what. Zeb and Rex really connect to this belief and end up finding comfort and even a little healing in it.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Being the youngest member of 141 (platonic)

Codename: Shark/Sharky

Age: 20

Part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Inspired by the many works of this concept! But most specifically @meatonfork and their grim stories!

Being the youngest member of a task force of grown men who’ve stared death in the face around every day of their lives is an accomplishment in itself

Getting close with them though is an entirely different goal that you’ve somehow accomplished in your time at 141

Your kinda not sure how it happened

Like you were brought on as additional support on a mission of theirs. Unlike the others though you’d stood out

Partially due to your smaller stature cause of your young age compared to literally everyone else (even Gaz)

He’s the most hesitant of the bunch to get closer to you. Afraid that his presence will be like a curse that leads to your life being cut short.

But your stubborn though, like a shark refusing to give up on chasing its prey.

But your stubborn though, like a shark refusing to give up on chasing its prey.

But your stubborn though, like a shark refusing to give up on chasing its prey.

But your stubborn though, like a shark refusing to give up on chasing its prey.

But your stubborn though, like a shark refusing to give up on chasing its prey.

But your stubborn though, like a shark refusing to give up on chasing its prey.

But your stubborn though, like a shark refusing to give up on chasing its prey.

It starts with small improvements you could make in simple stuff like your stances. He sees it during some training and he takes the time to show you what to do.

He tries to leave it at that but you come to him asking for more help in other areas you thought you could do better in. A small smirk on your face as he agrees with a bit of a sigh.

You talk to him during these times. Never shutting up about something funny you saw on tiktok or some weird story.

He appreciates how you don’t ever really expect him to respond, just to silently listen to your ramblings. Knowing he preferred to listen rather than talk.

It’s nice. He begins to look forwards to your training sessions and also starts indulging in joking with you.

His sense of humour doesn’t scare you off, in fact you seem to make more fucked up jokes than he does.

“Damn that hits harder than my parents expectations” the moment after you say this an awkward silence fills the training room. Ghost staring down at you with an unreadable expression on his face, dark eyes peering down from behind his edgy mask. “Kid are you ok?” The moment he asks this your instant response is “no”

Is reallly fucking worried for your mental health. Like he’s constantly checking on you after missions and is the first to volunteer to be at your side if your experiencing something wrong

He’s seen allot of people older than you be permanently scarred by what they’ve seen and end up on dark paths. He’s attached now and refuses to let that happen to you

He hasn’t been on the internet in years so he has no fucking clue what a “vine” is or whatever the fuck is going on your “tick-tack” or whatever the hell that app was named.

But he bears it for your smile and giggles as you show him a video of a puppy

He won’t mention it but at some point he gets a tattoo of a small nurse shark circling his forearm.

A symbol of your impact on his life

If you steal a mask of his you’ll find one tailored to properly fit you a few days later slipped under your door with a small note

Calls you “kid, brat, and (when he’s feeling soft) Sharky or ankle biter”

On missions with you he tends to try and have you in eyesight unless it’s completely necessary not to

A subtle way of keeping his protective side in reign but also let you do what you do best

Be prepared if you get injured though cause he’s ripping and tearing whoever’s in his path to get to you.

Price on the other hand is also worried but isn’t afraid to get close. In fact, he goes out of his way to welcome you as best he can.

Every morning he greets you with a polite “hello” and “how’s your morning” before offering a cup of tea

Not coffee though. He says it’s bad for your health and your too young to start drinking that shit

You can’t fight him on this either, he goes full dad mode on your ass and places the coffee container somewhere you can’t reach

He often stays up late doing paperwork so if your restless you end up curled up in his office on one of the couches.

He talks about some old stories, snuffing out his cigar so you don’t breath in the smoke.

His voice is perfect to listen too and has an almost instant knock out affect on your sleepy mind

You’ll wake up in your room the next morning, one of his hats snug on your head.

He’s the only one who knows any background information of your upbringing and guards that unless you don’t really care. Even then he’s still very hush hush about your past.

He likes to give a lot of verbal affection.

Just telling you that “you did a good job!” or a “great work out there kiddo”.

Plus a pat on the back and ruffling of your hair to add onto the affection. Will also give hugs if your comfortable with them

Buy him a hat or mug with “ 1# dad/captain” and you’ll see him tear up slightly

“Surprise!!” You place down the small mug that had “worlds best dad captain” written on it, onto his desk. He goes silent, carefully taking it into his hands with a certain gentleness only reserved for moments such as this. “Thought you needed a new one” he still remains silent, staring down in Aw at the mug “thought it would also go good with the “women fear me, fish fear me, men turn their eyes away from me-“. You stop seeing as his eyes begin to gloss over slightly.

“Thanks kid” “no problem old man”

He’s always wanted kids but due to the profession he’s never had the chance to settle down. So getting something like that helps with his lingering feeling of longing and bitterness of knowing he’ll likely never fulfil that dream

But he’s has you now, along with the family he built with the others and that’s good enough for him.

As the youngest you abuse your youngest child privileges on him a shit ton with Gaz.

He just can’t stay mad lol

Unlike Ghost he’s a bit more adept to modern tech though social media has him a bit lost.

Show him all you want but he still won’t be able to comprehend why a dude screaming about something is funny

On missions he already knows Ghost is watching over you so he kinda lets him take the lead in being protective. Though if ghost isn’t there he definitely has either himself or whoever else is on the mission nearby

He also almost always makes sure for missions your paired up with at least one other person.

Soap is immediately becoming your buddy whether you like it or not

After that first interaction he kinda just mentally said to himself “aight this lil shit is sticking with me now” and went from there

Jokes. Holy shit does he have an arsenal of jokes that he tries out with you.

Once he finds your somewhat dark and weird sense of humour he sticks to it, learning what would make you laugh the hardest and feeling super accomplished in succeeding his task

Definitely makes aquatic jokes and tries to buy you sea themed souvenirs

Eventually you gift him a seahorse keychain and it now hangs from his belt. He buys you a shark one in return that you hang from your com.

He has some social media accounts but their relatively bare. He just doesn’t have the time to update them or when he’s not busy he forgets to post anything

You quickly change that and he ends up basically becoming a meme account to piss off ghost as you, him and Gaz team up in talking in slang that makes Ghost and Price so fucking confused.

You and Soap sit side by side with shit grinning faces as Ghost sits as still as a statue with the aura of annoyance. You whisper to Soap something which makes the Scottish man giggle and glance back at ghost. Personally it’s getting on ghost’s nerves but he knows if he asks his ears are gonna be assaulted by some ungodly array of words he was 100% sure wasn’t in the dictionary.

During leave he’s definitely inviting you over to stay with him back in his flat. It’s somewhat small but it’s cozy, definitely a nice stay as he takes you to a football game and gets somewhat rowdy while watching it.

He kinda has the suspicion that you might’ve not had the best home life considering your age in which you voluntarily enlisted. But he doesn’t ask incase of it being a sensitive topic.

Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s wrong but it’s an offer you occasionally take since it makes him more happy than you know

100% teaches you Scottish slang for fun

Is probably the one who calls you “Sharky” the most out of the group and is the one who insists that everyone calls you that

Price has banned him from teaching you on how to make bombs no matter how much either of you plead

That doesn’t stop him from showing you how to set them up though

And that unfortunately (for him and everyone else) also leads you to setting up better pranks due to the knowledge he taught you.

He gets the side eye from ghost every time he wakes up to find a new elaborate glitter tripwire you set up

Gaz needs a moment to warm up to you but once he does he’s joining in on the shenanigans

For the longest time he was the youngest so now he has a chance to be a role model/mentor to someone!

Gaz knows what it’s like to be the metaphorical baby of the team (he still kinda is) so he understands if your feeling overwhelmed by the other’s protective streaks

Will 100% be the only one to understand half the shit you say and be given the title of “shark translator”

“Gaz for the love of Christ please translate that”

“It basically means “I’d rather gouge my eye out with a rusty shit covered spoon than eat any more of the broccoli” honestly same”

“What the fuck”

That just gives him the excuse to make them think that what you said is a whole lot worse tho

He occasionally takes his hat and places it on your head to see it be way to big and obscure your eyesight

Don’t offer instant ramen to him cause he has ptsd from eating a shit ton of it when he was in high school

He has an Xbox 360 and a sega Saturn locked away in his room. He only lets people he trusts know of it’s existence let alone be able to play on it

Your one of the few

He does not judge if you talk to him for an hour about the most obscure piece of media, he’ll probably find it really interesting and end up down the rabbit hole of watching it.

Both of you send the creepy stories chain email to random people on base just to see what’ll happen

Like everyone he kinda assumes you probably came from a shit background. He doesn’t ask about it unless you bring it up, but he always reminds you that him and the team are there for you if you need a place to crash at or talk to

Gets pretty nervous about you on the battlefield cause of the fact your going up against men that are usually 2 times your size. But he doesn’t try to admit it since he remembers when the others felt the same about him.

Is probably the only one who doesn’t get worried about any self-deprivations humour but does kinda get worried about suicide jokes

As a joke y’all call everyone old and make jokes about getting Price a cane next Christmas (which results in about 20 sets if push ups)

He sends random low quality memes you sent to him at 3 am to Price to see if he’ll ask the next morning what “me and the boys at 3 am looking for beans” fucking means.

Like soap he encourages your shenanigans but if he thinks you might get hurt he’s stopping that shit

He carry’s around kids bandaids with characters on them for you as an inside joke

Overall their protective but they don’t overstep the comfort line.

You’ve grown on them like a parasite and now they refuse to cut you off, luckily for them you just seem to latch on even harder.

[yantalia545]

Yandere Germany, Russia, and America with an innocent darling

Germany:

He’ll see you a lot like he does Italy; Airheaded, gullible, and most of all, weak. Someone who needs someone to guide them in the right direction. Someone who would be lost without him. 

You’ll be given extra training when with him in order to harden you for the troubles of the real world. Making sure to keep you close as he monitors your progress.

At meetings, Germany makes sure to keep an extra eye out for you. Italy mostly just eats and naps at these things so he should be fine for the most part. You on the other hand, how many times has he has to give France or his idiotic brother a warning death glare for trying to explain something sexual or inappropriate to you. You’re just too innocent to be hearing something so tainting. 

So when he sees you all dolled up and showing way too much skin for a girls night out, Germany goes into overdrive. 

On one hand, he’s furious. Who the hell do these whores think they are for influencing you in such a provocative way! You’re going to get hurt. Some creep is going to take advantage of you if he doesn’t stop this! One the other hand, Germany feels great disgust with himself for being aroused by your revealing appearance. He should be protecting you, not imagining you under him by just the sight of you in a skin tight mini skirt! 

Try all you want, but in no way in hell are you going out that night. Or any night with those girls for that matter. They’re not good friends anyways. They were a terrible influence on you.

After a long night of furious lecturing, he may avoid you for a few days. Germany needs time to sort out his feelings. As out of touch he is with those, that night stirred certain things in him that he either been ignoring or hid from himself. Does he really only want to protect you for the sake of you being too weak to fend for yourself, or....because of something else?

With this question in mind, Germany will do the only thing he can do, research. Only after countless days and nights of reading several books from cover to cover on this feeling does Germany realize what it is. He’s in love.

This is were your trouble take a dive for the worse. Germany isn’t much for romance and he will take your innocent personality to justify for what he does. 

He’ll tighten his reigns on you significantly. Especially after that incident with your friends. You can’t be trusted to make the right friends? You won’t be allowed to see anyone but him and the very few he trusts not to taint you further such as Italy and Japan. You let others decide your clothing? You’ll wear whatever he gives you that day. You’re life will quickly be overtaken by Germany. 

He still can’t help his own desires from taking the reins every once in a while though no matter how much he fights it. He’ll be a mess as he has an internal battle with himself until he finally gives in. Maybe if it’s just for him then it isn’t so bad, right? On those nights, neither of you will be getting much sleep. ❤️

Oh Germany, If only he’d realize he became the one thing that he devoted his life to protecting you from.

America: 

Being an airhead about these things himself, he’ll be caught off guard when you unintentionally ask him a sexual question that he happens to actually know. What dives him over the moon is the doe like expression you had as you asked him such a provocative question. Did you seriously not have the slightest clue on what you were asking? This in turn will cause him to blush and lie about it. He doesn’t want you to think he’s a creep for knowing just what it was.

After that fateful day America will begin to  realize just how fragile you are. Fragile and innocent things must be protected from the harshness of the world. That’s a hero’s duty after all. At the next meeting, America will declare to be your hero and swears to protect you from all things sexual and tainting. This will quickly lead America to becoming very protective and just a bit possessive over you. He’s your hero. Only he can protect you from all things that want to hurt and deflower your innocence. 

The others may find America’s latest obsession on you to be rather pitiful for you but won’t do much to stop it. They may only stick to backhanded remarks on how his own culture is so provocative but nothing else.

America most certainly will be knocked down a peg and ashamed of his own current culture and media at this point. He can’t lie, that may be the reason why he knows all these things but is still a virgin. America becomes increasingly  afraid that even his own culture could taint you. Maybe somewhere in the mountainous woods could protect you? 

The very next day you wake up in a bed you’ve never seen before. It isn’t long before that does America burst through the door and tries to comfort you by explaining himself.

We’re somewhere where nothing or no one can hurt you. This is your home now and no you’re not going back to your country. He’ll take care of everything for you. He is your hero, after all. No matter the amount of comforting that morning, nothing will stop your tears. In America’s mind however, this doesn’t help your case of being strong enough to be independent. You don’t understand yet, but he just knows you’ll grow to love living here with him.

He’s made sure to make sure everything is this cabin was everything you need. Movies, snacks, video games, and even plenty of space outside for you to explore. Not that you won’t be allowed outside without him of course. What if something happens and your hero isn’t around to help you? Or god forbid, you get lost. These woods has no one around for miles so it’s quite possible.

I’d say that America has more of a platonic relationship with you in this situation than romantic. He wants to protect you, not taint you like the world has done to him. This is just the thing he has to do as your hero.

Russia:

Russia won’t believe it at for the longest time. This has to be an act. He’s seen it many times and won’t become a fool to your ways. There’s just no way anyone can be this naive and get this far in life. The world is too cruel for anyone to remain soft. He won’t fall for it. 

He will take to stalking you personally in order to catch you in an incriminating act against you character. It will take a very long time to convince him otherwise. It won’t be until after many months of stalking you and your social media is he finally convinced. And he's in love! Can there really be anyone this genuine and sweet in this world? Could you be this sweet to him? 

It wouldn’t be very long before coming to this realization that he would drape himself over your shoulders at a world meeting and invite you to your fate. It was so adorable how quickly you innocently accepted his offer. Maybe you saw the loneliness within him and were sent by angles to save him. 

Once you arrive, you won’t be permitted to leave. You’ll be forced to live in his big empty house with no one to keep you company but himself. It’ll be cruel how such a large house could feel so suffocating when you have the large man towering over you every step of the way. 

You won’t be permitted to interact with anyone, ever. You belong to Russia now. Your only purpose in life now is to entertain Russia as his innocent, little, wife. Russia just loves your reaction to everything. Like begging to leave with tears in your wide, doe-like eyes. It’s so adorable! He may even just put you into awkward situations just to see how you would react. Their never sexual though. He never wants to taint your innocent nature. That is part of the reason he took you in the fist place.

The world can is a cruel place. One the likes to snuff out innocence and step on the weak. Russia would be the one to shelter you from such cruelties. He’ll keep you here in order to preserve what little light he was bestowed in this world and he’ll protect it with his life. 

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi,

I saw you seen Poppy Playtime and Dogday is my favorite too. Can you write a scenario where Dogday lives and how he would help MC defeat the Prototype. Or how about if Mc met Dogday in Chapter 1 and he helps MC through the whole Playtime Co. building. I’ve seen some people put a Yandere twist on it maybe something like that?

-You couldn’t help but scowl deeply, starting the next generation, “Why did I come back to this place? Yeah, sure it was a creepy abandoned toy factory- that part is fine, but giant killer toys and a whole friggen underground city- hell to the no!!”

-Muttering to yourself as you used your Grab-Pack to pull something closer to you so you could get to the next area, you didn’t realize you were being listened to.

-You came across another one of those Smiling Critters cutouts, a bear this time and a chill went up your spine, feeling eyes on you, but when you looked around, nothing was there as you scowled, equipping your newest addition to your Grab-Pack, a flare gun!

-You looked down at it, looking a bit surprised before you tilted your head back, a deep sigh leaving you, “Why would I need a flare gun this deep under- HOLY BEANS!!” you pointed the flare at a tiny stuffed toy that was moving towards you, and the moment you hit it, it scrambled away, screaming as if it was in pain.

-Clutching your chest over your hammering heart, you tried to make sense of what you just saw before another one, this time of an elephant, came out and you shot at that one as well.

-Swallowing your fear you quickly moved, looking through the next area for what you needed.

-You weren’t expecting to find cages down here, “First a cult-like school with that scary-ass teacher, Catnap’s shrine to the Prototype- what next?”

-As if he was waiting for you to finish, a new voice spoke up, “You! You’re Poppy’s angel!” you leapt back in fear, slamming into a closed jail cell, panicking to hear another voice before your eyes went wide, seeing Dogday, or at least half of him.

-He looked like he was near death, his legs missing, his arms bound, keeping him pinned to the wall, looking like he had been tortured for who knows how long.

-You listened to him, as he explained what happened to him, how he was captured and how he was the last of the Smiling Critters, besides Catnap. You could see his eye lights shining, “Please- you must finish this- end his reign and- oh no- NO- you need to run! Get out of here!”

-You heard the scurrying of footsteps of those little critters, and you turned to run, before you froze, looking back at Dogday, he was a sitting duck- he wouldn’t stand a chance against them.

-Your Grab-Pack hands shot out, grabbing onto Dogday as he shouted, “What are you doing? Leave me- I’m not worth-” SNAP!! The binds holding him snapped from the wall and you hugged the much larger critter before you turned, “I decide who’s worthy of saving!”

-His arms were wrapped around you, holding on so you could focus on getting out of the area. He felt like crying- it had been so long since he cried- how many years had it been?

-You felt him squeezing you harder and you couldn’t help but smile softly as you quickly ran through a series of massive pipes until you came across a slide and quickly sat down before laying down, so he could fit as well.

-Once you landed safely on the other side, you were panting softly before you flopped back to your back, a deep sigh leaving your lips, “This place sucks.”

-Dogday slowly lifted himself up on his hands, seeing you there, you saved him? Why? He wasn’t worth it- he was broken, a hindrance to you, so why…

-Once you caught your breath you grabbed one of the belts around his wrists, removing it before you tied it around his waist, cinching him shut, “Sorry if it hurts Dogday, but this will have to do until I can get you out of here.”

-He didn’t complain, he was oddly silent, watching you take care of him before you removed the rest of the belts from his arms and fashioned a backpack type of sling, “Okay- let’s see how this is gonna work.”

-After a few minutes and after nearly falling on your face, you had Dogday strapped to your back, so he was looking behind you and you grinned, “Okay- let’s get back to Poppy and Kissy.”

-Dogday finally spoke, once you started walking, “Why- why did you save me?” he sounded like he was in shock or disbelief.

-You just beamed, tilting your head back into his, feeling his fuzzy head, “You’re one of the few who hasn’t tried to kill me- and I wasn’t going to just leave you there to get- to get whatever those little bastards would do to you.”

-Instantly he scolded you, “Language!” your laughter filled the halls, it was almost comical, being scolded for your foul mouth before you reached up with one of your hands, scratching at his head, “But yeah- I’m not leaving anyone behind who shouldn’t be.”

-His chest felt warm as he felt that strange feeling again, like he was crying, but there were no tears shed, as he felt overwhelmed with happiness, knowing that you had such a kind heart to save someone like him.

-He was going to do his best for you- you saved him so now he has to keep you safe- he didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. He wasn’t going to allow it.

[reegis]

More Hadeon lore?? I love them sm

aaaa i love to talk about my dumb babies dont give me any excuse..

She’s actually part of like. a whole Thing. which i will now ramble about for ENTIRELY too long, so ill put it under the cut

ahhh im so bad at explaining things even tho theres like. a lot of lore & worldbuilding (by my standards anyways)

but basically all of my angel & demon OCs are part of an idea i have for an rpg/ttrpg?? set in a world where God, angels and demons all exist in the world, mainly in a sort of eldritch sense. God has essentially gone missing for thousands of years - with only scattered miracles to occasionally make Its presence known - and in Its absence, the angels have taken on their own warped interpretation of Its edict while the demons have wreaked havoc, and both have entwined themselves very heavily into human society (mostly to humanity’s detriment).

The players would create a character (human((religious, cult, or agnostic)), fallen angel, redemption demon, etc) that would give them certain skill sets/abilities/affinities depending on their choices, but the overall goal of the game is to Meet/Find God (and your characters reason for this would vary)

The continent in the game is basically one enormous mountain range, with the peaks actually reaching the heavens (think like olympus) with those living closer to the peaks being basically ultra religious societies who still believe God is there and everything that happens is still somehow part of Its plan, and those at the base and few small surrounding islands (which deal with much more demonic corruption and angelic attacks) doubting It still exists, and becoming home to fringe groups of cults creating their own deities (sometimes literally) and agnostics.

Players would meet somewhere at the base and progress up the mountain, and - depending on their group make-up - meet angels and demons along the way, both of which could potentially be foes or allies.

The angels exist in a hierarchy, with the seven Seraphim at the top, but almost all of them pose a potential danger. With God no longer at the reigns, the angels have had centuries to interpret Its will however they see fit. Many of the lowest ranking angels still hold the original ideals and are mostly harmless, granting blessings and offering sage advice, but are of no Real help. Of the higher ranking angels, many have gained their own twisted sort of moral compass and have lost touch with Gods original love for mankind. What is or isn’t a sin, what deserves punishment or what deserves blessing, has become subjective to them and they bestow their judgment upon mankind with great prejudice.

The demons exist in a hierarchy as well. As angels stripped of their holy power (and thus blinded) when they attempted to overthrow God, they seek to earn back their power and sight by stealing souls. The harder to corrupt a soul is, the more power they obtain when that soul finally succumbs. Lower level/weaker demons mainly seek to cause wide spread devastation and death, as they dont have the power to corrupt, but feed on any souls lost. Higher level demons are more insidious, possessing or manipulating people in power, in search of “higher quality” souls to assist their climb.

There are also a small group of “fallen” angels and “redeemed” demons, who exist sort of outside of the status-quo since they no longer fit neatly into either group. Fallen angels are (usually lower ranking) angels that have fallen in love with humanity and rejected their base angelic nature to live amongst them. They forfeit most of their angelic power and assume a more human-like appearance in order to live amongst the humans they adore, but have a still-perceivable “otherness” that leaves them mostly an outcast. Redemption demons are somewhat similar; they have gained/retained enough love for humanity since their fall that they no longer seek to claim human souls for power and are instead attempting to regain Gods love through redemption and acts of kindness. Falling from heaven has irrevocably changed them physically, however, and they face great hardships attempting to fit in to human society.

Of the Seraphim, Hadeon represents the Wrath of God. He is tasked with finding and punishing sinners, those who would blaspheme or turn against God. Originally she was the fair hand of Justice, but in the centuries of Gods absence, his sense of right and wrong have become irrevocably warped. Their presence can first be felt with the smell of ozone, and a sudden intense pressure, like a storm on the horizon. She, and the army of angels under her command, hunt sinners through the streets, meting out their vigilante justice. Where he goes, indescriminate bloodshed almost always follows.

Her mindset is entirely black and white, but despite eons walking the earth they retain a naïveté of human society that makes her pretty easily distractable. He can occasionally be reasoned with and/or distracted, and even more rarely convinced to bestow a blessing.

Hadeon is one of the first Minor bosses the player faces, and your decision to either befriend, escape, or kill her will play a role in your later encounter with other higher angels.

obviously there are all of the other Seraphim, and other high ranking demons that have their own names/info/etc i could literally keep going on and on abt them & more in depth world building forever probably but i will stop now 😔

[pricescancerstickk]

Vladimir Makarov x Reader

(C.w mentions of death, tell me if I missed any, au different than the game.)

W.c : 1.0k

It was a shocker how you’d been those receiving gifts. The writing in russian had given it away, You’d think he was trying to hide the fact it was him but really, he seemed like he was toying with you. You knew he wasn’t the type of guy to write or send letters, Makarov preferred luring in his victims, but to you he was making it obvious it was him

He haunted you for so many years.

The way the screen cuts to the next scene just made you wonder. If he was dead or alive. But the one with a gift box and a note attached to it?

That note in russian. It was too much to bear. Makarov was alive and out to find out where you were and get his revenge against 141. But for you, this was a warning to be on your guard too. For you.

Makarov couldve been anywhere in the world. You thought to yourself. But how would you know? That bastard knew you. You were hiding-. If makarov finds what he wants. There is no stopping what he would do. He was a cruel bastard. And he probably would not only want revenge. That was in his nature the man had only known destruction his entire life, with a bleeding heart and hadn’t shown any guilt for the killing of bystanders

It brings you to his partner in crime almost, Ivan

ivan. A trained mercenary in the group of elite killers that Vladimir had. If you were captured by someone like him. Then you would most likely be dead within the day if not the hour. Ivan, the ultranationalist. The second most important man to makarov’s group. But even he hadn’t a clue where your location was. You had been in hiding for quite some time after 141 disbanded. But makarov had the ability to get you in some sort of way. Whether by his men, or himself. Ivan... He was makarovs partner in crime to a certain point. You had seen him before. But one that wasn’t as dangerous as makarov. It was ivan who got you, but makarov who is sending the notes and the warnings. Ivan, ivan can’t track you. He is just a soldier. But makarov? He is a leader. He probably knows where you are already..

That bastard would probably be coming after you himself now. You needed to keep hiding. If not that, then run. He probably knows more about you than you think. Makarov could be hiding in a forest and then he could pop up right behind you in an instant. You thought to yourself. But you know. You would never run. Even if it meant you could be dead.. You would not run.

You only remembered Vladimir to be the same guy who was selling carpets back then,,

a carpet seller. A carpet seller was the man who was the cause of everything...a simple carpet seller. Makarov a simple carpet seller. It sounded a bit foolish but at the same time you had been living in the arab world for most of your life, so it made sense that such a thing could happen. But makarov? He was supposed to be a good man, an honest good man who did not mean any wrong. But he had been wrong from the start. So wrong. It was all a front. Atleast that was where you had first met him. His little carpet shop. A man in the east world selling carpets. Nothing wrong with that. Was he an honest man though? Now you question those very words. Was he really? It was all a facade. A facade behind all the atrocities that he must’ve been doing. All the people that have suffered under his cruel reign. All the people he had sold weapons too. The soldiers that he had killed. That he himself was hiding away and making himself out to be a saint.

When really he was the devil in disguise, you were hiding in the dark corner of the warehouse. He had seen you. And you hadn’t known what had happened. You felt his gaze upon you. So you kept to that corner. Waiting for the opportunity to get out and away. But you never got that opportunity. The base was now in flames and 141 was no more. It had been the end of days for them. But it had also been the end of days for you in a way, you were a hunted girl. With no friends or anyone to turn too.

You had no one to turn to. It was that night he had you in the corner of the wall That night he had you in the corner. So many other things had happened. But the image of him was burnt into your mind. The memory of him seeing you had been seared into your brain. His stare. The cruel look in his eyes. The look of a predator, like a lion stalking its prey. And the prey had found itself cornered. The prey was you. The hunted. Hunted yet again. You had nothing against the Russian. Albeit, yes he was the enemy. He killed millions and was responsible for the lives of them, you didn’t have anything personal against him, but even if that was that, he still needed to get rid of.

Necessarily, he wasn’t planning on killing you, but then it really struck him when you were bold to try and infiltrate their base, but he had caught you that night.

Makarov was a vile man, the damage he caused was immense and it began with a carpet shop?

“убери от меня руки!” You begged , pleas falling on deaf ears as he made his way around to you. He was mocking you with how slow he was going, harsh nails digging into your wrists, slamming you down on the floor pinning you down, the harsh stare in his eyes burned through you, it was engraved into your mind. You wrists had turned red it ached like hell

“So my little whore knows Russian?”

Your knees began to tremble at the sound of his voice alone. That one sentence was enough to shake you to the core and cause any confidence you had left to be stripped away from you. You wanted to cry and shake in fear. But instead you froze. Your knees trembled. And you felt as though you had just walked into the belly of the beast, you despised him, you wished the nightmare would be over, he was responsible for the death of all your friends.

But he was still after you, you didn’t know why. You wouldn’t know. If it was put more into summary,

He thought of you more as a toy then a enemy.

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (IV): Say Don’t Go.

Imagine you are a peasant who rescues Aemond after he fought his uncle Daemon Targaryen—but in this universe he didn’t die drowned, but suffered a wound that you, with your simple knowledge of medicine, actually manage to heal you. What shall happen then?

Warnings: fluff, violence, drama, angst.

***

• A Dance With Dragons

In between fire and ashes, blood has never been thicker. The one-eyed prince, on behalf of his infamous brother, is ready to take leave. Unbeknownst to him, as he mounts Vhagar, destiny sets a worse fate than the assumption of victory for all parties.

Here he goes, a path of blood behind this man—who tasted frustration and rejection all his life, lusting for what was never his by any right, tied in a very suffocating loyalty to his family.

Here he goes, moved by agony and pain, he who is hated by his enemies and despised by those who support the charismatic Aegon.

Here he goes… mounted in an ancient beast, prompted to finally write his name in the pages of history. Aemond, the kinslayer, the embodiment of fire and blood, flies in roaring skies.

And not too long after he meets his mirror, the one he wanted to be in life—a better version, certainly—, the kin who inspired him despicable sentiments—if perhaps in another occasion he would be this man’s favourite nephew.

This is not the moment for words to be spoken out. Warriors like them feel no need to exchange offenses. War is coming in thunderous storms. Higher than men, above divine heavens, uncommon relatives fight one another.

“DRACARYS, VHAGAR!”

His scream dies unheard, as the wind blows away the anger in his throat. Believing to possess such an ancient dragon, warlord like him, he doesn’t foresee that years and size are not by his side.

Daemon Targaryen and his Caraxes are faster and better equipped for this battle. Experience is also an advantaged tool played by the aforementioned prince towards his rascal nephew.

The skies shake and many are misled to think this is a thunder. But this is hardly a thunderstorm. Later the chroniclers would report it as a dance of the dragons, where this deadly combat between two great warlords and their gigantic beasts collided in such a way that as frightening as it was to watch, it seemed so as the involved were…dancing.

But Vhagar’s flesh and blood provide difficulty to Caraxes. Bites here and there, sounds that roared through the air, producing sparks of electrons and fire all the whilst their riders try to dismount the other.

The heights pose an inevitably invitation for prompt death. It’s only a matter of time until one of them falls, if not both of them do.

Skies grow darker and rain eventually drops. Caraxes, fighting better under this environment, twists the scene to his favor, surprising Vhagar. What happpens next is too fast to describe. Later, peasants would recall how a great beast like Vhagar fell upon the sea… without Lord Aemond on her back.

A question would haunt Aegon’s twilight reign: where has Lord Aemond Targaryen gone to?

To worse Aegon III’s rise to the throne, a shadow is casted. No body was found. Therefore… should it be presumed the rogue prince died? If so, not in his former mistress’s arms.

Where is Aemond Targaryen? What happened to the one-eyed lord, famed for his kinslayer epithet?

• Blue skies, fields painted green•

I’ve known it from the very start. We’re a shot in the darkest dark. Oh, no. I’m unarmed…

By the time you rescue him, you think he’s been dead and gone. But for a long while you, a simple curious being who, however, learned to study thanks to your older brother’s connection with literate beings, suspected not all was like appearances led to.

You managed to carry this strange man, aware he was in his worst conditions, to your household. It’s a very simple, typical peasant house. And this was a man you’ve never seen in these surroundings… especially because of his fancy robes, a positive indicator of his nobility.

Unaware of the details of this civil war, you took care of him. Ignoring his handsomeness, you dedicated day and night until he eventually opens his eyes.

And when he does… it’s a scandal. Most of all because he is still hurting in his chest and to breathe requires some energy. Then comes the revolt upon seeing he’s nowhere he’s familiar with.

Before he starts to rage out his frustration, the prince is prevented from doing so at the sight of you. A peasant, certainly a damsel despite being closer to him in age, shows up.

“L-L-Lord, please”, you know you’ve been bold in keeping him with you, in weaving illusions to escape your life, all of which makes you blush and sink into his feet. “I only tried to help you.”

Something about your smooth voice eases him. When looking better at you, Aemond’s chest hurts for being reminded of his sweet sister Helaena. He knows he could never do any harm to you.

“Rise, creature who saved my life”, and when you do, the silver haired man looks enchanted at your y/c soft skin, the mystery behind your y/c eyes… “I demand to know your name.”

“Y/N Y/LN, lord”, you whisper, still avoiding his gaze.

But it’s for no effort you do so as he looks for yours, holding your chin as he lifts it up. You see danger right before you, posing threat as he stands in front of you. Nevertheless, he is so alluring that to resist is just… pointless.

“Don’t call me lord. I’m Aemond”, he softens to you, his hand slipping to your throat gently before letting go of you, leaving behind a sensation of void and cold where there had been warmth. “It appears that if I fell here, my uncle took the best of me.”

You nod your head partly.

“You need to be careful, lo… Aemond. Your wounds are still fresh”, you bring him to outside for the very first time since you rescued him.

The prince, shirtless and dressing an old pair of pants, follows you, reluctant somewhat as what to find. He is, however, surprised when seeing there is nothing but a careful mix of colors. Deep blue that paints these cloudless skies and a shade of green that colors the hills and the grasses nearby.

The air is clean and the prince finds peace. However, when spotting, from that distance, the sea, this peace is replaced by angst.

“Vhagar”, he remembers painfully. “Where is she?”

When seeing a puzzled look on your face, Aemond has to remember himself you are a peasant, who probably judged dragons as mythical creatures. But he underestimates you.

“Ser, I may be poor and obscure, but I am not illiterate”, you speak impatiently. “I know who Vhagar is. I must say, though, that you were already dismounted by the time I found you. If you fell from such a height, this only means you are lucky that you are still alive.”

Aemond’s good eye transmits such a depth of sadness that you feel remorse for speaking like that to him. The prince doesn’t notice it, though, so he decides to walk outdoors and there sit amidst the high grass as a way to cope with his loss.

At first, all you do is watch him. This tall, paled prince with long silver hair, involved in a bandage around his waist with a skin painted in deep scars, is now the embodiment of melancholy.

Your reason tells you to leave him there, the moon is too high to grasp it, but your feet don’t obey your sense. It doesn’t take too long before you sit next to him.

“I’m sorry for your loss”, you break the silence hesitantly. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

He doesn’t respond you ar first, and you wonder whether he heard you or are ignoring you. But he turns his face at you eventually, still plagued by that shade of sadness few can be gladly dissociated from.

“You’ve done all you could, mistress Y/N. Thank you. You shall be rewarded.”

“My reward is your well being, lor… Aemond”, you offer him an understanding small smile.

These words prove to be the balsam he needs.

“I appreciate it, truly. In due time…” Aemond sighs, not willing to admit how lost he feels. “Do you have any news of what’s going on?”

By the looks of your face, the prince understands that what might come from you are not what he wants to hear. Even so, he must hear it. In this silent communication, though, there is little need to further comprehension.

Therefore you tell him about Lord Daemon’s victory. A short victory, however, as the common folk said that due to the gravity of his wounds eventually culminated in the said prince’s death.

What happened next was confused. You didn’t understand politics very well and you were too busy minding your own business to do so. Nevertheless, it’s common knowledge that the Seven Kingdoms have a new king.

“A new king?”, Aemond exclaims frustrated. “But Jaehaerys is just a boy!”

The embarrassment in your face only worsens his disappointment.

What, in seven hells, has happened in this short time I was unconscious?

“This is not his name, Ser. Our king is Aegon, Third of His Name.”

Aemond pales and for a moment you step back, fearful of his fury. But all the silver prince does is clench his jaw and turn his back on you for a moment. And you let him be all the time he needs.

***

• Healing…

I'm standin' on a tightrope alone. I hold my breath a little bit longer. Halfway out the door, but it won't close. I'm holdin' out hope for you…

A strange process it is to watch events unfold from the support ground. Witnessing from darkness the arrival of the Starks and then all the gathering leading to Aegon III’s ascension next to Rhaenyra, who, apparently, had transmitted her claim to the Iron Throne to her eldest son and heir, was too much for him to bear… especially now aware of the passing of every one he’d known and fought for.

But in due time, his silence and mourning become too much a burden for him to carry alone.

“I’m surprised you are still out here”, you tell him in one of these evenings you come home and find the prince there.

“Where else I’d go?”, Aemond shrugs his shoulders.

His eyes are glued in you, finding new expressions in your introspective features. You are different, a thought occurs him. What had happened outside to bring you more serious today? A question he does not dare to pose.

“To your mistress, perhaps”, a response that, albeit reluctant, transmits some grumpiness on your part.

For the first time in many moons, Aemond Targaryen smiles.

“Mistress?”, he repeats and you miss the amusement out of his voice.

“Mistress Rivers. Perhaps this is a name very familiar to you”, you don’t know why rolling the name of his former paramour sounds poisonous to your ears, inspiring a hearty agony and an inner despair.

As Aemond studies you, every piece comes to make sense when glued together. At first he says nothing, finding adorable how a creature so introspective like you, kept innocent and wild at the same time from mundane’s ill intentions, discovers new sentiments, obscured as jealousy and attachment might sound.

He could take the opportunity to write a new story, but even now… Aemond struggles to disassociate from the past.

“She was once attributed to many meanings, some of which had linkings to my personal affections”, Aemond admits, taking the opportunity to sip his ale. “But once we parted ways, I do not believe we are meant to mend it back.”

You cast him a long distrustful look, opting for the silence, even though there is so much being said in your body language. Aemond rises up and moves to where you stand, gently but firmly taking grip of your arm.

“Y/N, look at me”, he demands you gently. “Why have you brought her name out of the blue?”

You hesitate and Aemond can only be led to think there’s some bad news ahead. You take some breath and then look at him, as if struggling for courage.

“I cannot keep you here any longer, lord. I’ve been selfish, I see that now. But looking after my lord has given me purpose. All of this to say that people have been looking for you.”

“Looking for me”, he repeats. “Do not believe in what people say, my darling. My enemies are in power, the best we can do is hide for the moment. This means I must shave my head to keep the identity in secrecy.”

He surprises you, and even himself, with this new sense of resignation. But this is a wise move, considering no one had found his body, therefore the mystery must remain for his sake.

Nonetheless, he likes this life with you. Aemond smiles before holding you against him.

“I got used to you, dear one. Looks like I’m staying longer this time.”

That being said, he admires how wide you smile. No one had ever made him feel this sentiment before. He realizes now that what you two have is too sacred to let it be profaned.

• Pain & Blood

Why'd you have to lead me on? Why'd you have to twist the knife? Walk away and leave me bleedin', bleedin'? Why'd you whisper in the dark? Just to leave me in the night? Now your silence has me screamin', screamin'…

When he kisses you under moonlight in between the shadowy green fields, your mind goes blank and your heart races loud. When his tongue moves the way to your neck, your legs automatically spread to welcome his strong body; his arms now moving upper your back, caressing you slowly, aching in slow burn as you call out his name in sweet whispers.

“Mine lady”, his lips pursuit yours once more.

It’s past twilight. Silenced by the night, nature welcomes you in this wilderness out of the fancy troubles and the troublesome webs woven by the Black party.

You provide him home and security, the sweet taste of genuine love he’s been looking for. With him, likewise.

It’s free, intense and healing.

“We should better head inside”, he grumbles under his breath, struggling not to give free path for his desires.

You giggle softly, giving him a long look. As you straighten yourself, you hear him say:

“My lady, you bring the best of a beast like me.”

You spin around him, looking like a fairy with your simple white gown and y/c hair loose in your back.

“Is this you accusing me of witchcraft, lord? For I shall not tolerate such an accusation”, you put your hands around his neck.

“Nay. You are too pure for it”, and Aemond knows this must not be the result of bewitching, since the purity of your care and love inspires the same of a man like him.

Beneath the mask of a bad prince, there lies a wounded man who’s known neglect all his life. The concept of love Alys brought to him was more lustful, fleshy attachment than sentimental one.

But when the shadow of those three words comes behind your eyes, mirroring his own, Aemond fears to hear them. Kissing your lips once more, he prays to forget what he saw… for a recent, deep wound has come to open in surface.

As you lead him into your household again, precisely to what you call being your quarters—the result of the inheritance of your father—you give in your heart at every touch, every embrace this man provides you.

When you begin to picture the two of you actually living this life together, when you start to think possible that you could marry and be content in being a simple peasant… every dream dies when a knock on the door is heard urgently.

“Who on earth…”, you sigh impatiently, making him chuckle.

Aemond snakes his arms behind your waist, resting his chin over your shoulder.

“We should better see who’d be this unwanted visitor”, he laughs quietly, admiring the blush painting your cheeks.

As you reluctantly part of his arms, you move to open the door. Aemond leans against the wall, partly hidden under the shadows, waiting to see who’s the one behind the bloody door.

But when you open and see a dark-haired lady with a skin smooth as milk, your heart stops.

“Oh. So here’s the witch who captured my Aemond”, she speaks in a soft accusing voice, though in the lady’s eyes there is nothing but arrogance.

Aemond reluctantly comes to the scene.

“Alys?”

“My prince”, her voice and smile are as sweet as poison, inspiring in you nothing but disgust. “Your son and I have been waiting for you, believing to be dead and gone. But you have been kept a prisoner by this…”, and here comes the despise poorly masked.”…woman.”

You turn your head quickly to stare at Aemond. He sees pain in your y/c eyes, and the sound of heartbreaking reaches his ears when you say:

“You have a child with her, Aemond?”

“It’s Lord Aemond to you”, she corrects you, but is promptly ignored by all parts.

“She was… pregnant when I went to war”, Aemond admits, embarrassed. “I… Considering the recent events, I thought them to be gone like the rest of my family.”

“No. Your son waits for you. I’ve been looking for you”, insists Alys, much to your consternation. “Let me break this spell she’s casted on you, my prince. You shall be free and live with us as it’s your right.”

Part of you waits for his denial, hopes for it even. Despite the evident struggle in having yourself composed before such accusations, you expect he’d take your side.

You hope…

And I'm yours, but you're not mine. Oh no, oh no, you're not there. I'm standin' on the sidewalk alone. I wait for you to drive by. I'm tryna see the cards that you won't show. I'm about to fold unless you…

But Aemond knows not where his strength lies. This cannot be judged simply following his heart desires. When remembering everything his mother sacrificed for… and then he has a child.

A child of his own that should be on the throne. The mere idea awakes the flames of old vengeance.

Much to her annoyance, on the other hand, Alys watches as the events unfold in an impasse. She presses again the matter of their child, aware this is how she’ll take him away from your claws—or so she judges.

“Aemond?”, your voice comes out suffocated.

He sees those words in your eyes, but they fade out of his grasp like a star losing the shine, swallowed in a black hole.

Night comes and steals your bright, much to his atonement. Aemond wishes he could say something more, but no speech is enough to bring you back to life.

Your innocence is now agony and all he can say is:

“I must go. For my child.”

“I understand”, you speak cooly, surprising him for your reasonable behavior. “I pray you forgive me for any mistakes. I am but a peasant who knows nothing of life.”

That being said you curtsy and leave the way open. You watch as Alys smirks deviously at you, like a winner who takes it all. Aemond hesitates, but you don’t look at him.

Why'd you have to (why'd you have to) make me want you (make me want you)? Why'd you have to (why'd you have to) give me nothin' back? Why'd you have to (why'd you have to) make me love you (make me love you)? I said, "I love you" (I said, "I love you"). You say nothin' back.

And there your heart lies in open bleeding…

***

You occupy yourself delivering the rest of planting to the lord you owe fealty after spending months in working with the land. It’s easier to forget about the past when one occupies one’s mind with daily tasks.

This doesn’t mean the nights are easier, though. You are haunted by his face, by scenes where he laughs joyfully with Lady Rivers. She tells you that, as a lowborn woman, you could never be with a highborn man as Lord Aemond.

A truth sharp as knife that wakes you up in the breaking dawn, bleeding you again and again… It hurts and though you swallow salt in your mouth, no other sign is there that you have been in suffering.

In the meantime you carry on with your life, or try to, Aemond is rediscovering his life amongst nobility. The boy his former mistress claimed to be his son is not, by all means, a Targaryen. He could tell she painted his hair and by calculating his age, he was far more likely being a Strong boy than else his. Specially because by the time he took Alys Rivers as his mistress, she was already a Strong’s concubine.

With this disappointment ahead and collecting the testimonies of her witchcraft, Aemond is no fool to realize he’s been stuck in a trap and that he could be sent to the new government’s hand anytime.

I shall not have a death by treason.

The only reasonable solution is escaping. He is no coward, in fact the prince was once too prideful to embrace defeat. However, Aemond’s mind recollects your innocence, your simple ways of living and how you taught him so many good things.

The teachings that promised to make him a rightful man despite his wrongs. Is he too late to be redeemed, though?

Why'd you whisper in the dark just to leave me in the night? Now your silence has me screamin', screamin'…

I should have not let you go, Y/N.

In silence, like always, the prince leaves all that has profaned his soul to search after the only sacred path someone put him in.

And this someone is you.

• ‘I would stay forever if you say don’t go…’

You have cleaned your body in the river and now choose to sit right there over a towel, partly fearful of being seen in your nude state, partly pleased to be able to feel some degree of liberty.

Sun is ready to set and it’s last rays are set on your y/c skin, drying the last drops of the cold water you dived in. As you stand, you are ready to dress yourself when a noise scares you.

Quickly you put your white gown with black strips, unable to tie your long y/c hair when you spot him.

Head shaved still, pained eyes, dressed not like a nobleman but like a random, common peasant lad. So would he look like had he not been blessed with such deep purple eyes that are staring into your y/c ones.

“A-Aemond”, you gasp. Your body begins to tremble and you wish you could run away, but you are frozen.

“Y/Nickname”, he comes after you, hesitantly at first, confidently then. “Apologies are not enough for what I did to you, to us. I humble before my lady and come to ask you not to go.”

He is on his knees before you. He, the prideful prince.

“You are the one who left”, your voice betrays you.

“I had to”, Aemond dares to raise his chin as his hands grip tight your thighs. “I had to. I was misled to think the boy she had was my child.”

“And if he was”, you mutter, the echo of pain rolling out through your words, much like a sharpened blade. “Would you be embarrassed of my station to keep me in ignorance?”

“Fuck, Y/N, no!” He realizes no words are enough to make up for his poor doings. Nevertheless, he tries. Aemond is no quitter. “I am not embarrassed of my lady. I learned to love you out of my heart and soul, despising mundane affairs in order to pursuit the divine one. I was raised from the seven hells to taste the sweet flavor of your divine lips. I want you. Only you can redeem me.”

It’s the way his fingers dig into the cloth of the skirt of your gown that makes you feel fragile. The way he breaks before you, how his words are whispered in despair. Remorse is sincere, pain is evident in the two of you.

Why delaying it?

But then you hear a sound so strange to you. To both of you. When your hearts cry out, you slip, losing your strength.

“You are my weakness”, he says, exposing himself to you.

No sapphire. No embellishment. No pride. The prince the way he is, with his scars. And you expose yours.

Darkness rises by the time you are engulfed in his embrace.

“I’m sorry”, Aemond whispers, fearful of losing you. “I won’t leave you ever again. This I vow over my dead family.”

You are still sobbing when he vows this to you. And when his lips are colliding against yours, every angst dies at long last. And what is cold now is warm, and suddenly the weight of the clothes begins to be unbearable.

With only the moon as witness, vows are exchanged, consumed in one kind of fire that burns each part, prompted to spread in a strange kind of fever so unknown to you.

As tongue dances, bodies intertwine and pain is at long last overcome. The consequence of this redemption is to fruit nine moons later.

In the end, in between wars and peacemakings, two different lives found in each other what they needed. The destiny of Aemond Targaryen became a great “what if” in the history, a name so powerful to haunt crowned men but humbled before the kindest lady of the Seven Kingdoms.

Turned into a love song many years later, bards would give Aemond another name, calling you Jenny of the Oldstones.

Perhaps a truth hints behind it, is it not? But only your descendants would know it and smile often at such beautiful song.

[facelessanimator]

I have so many questions about your Guardian Angel AU

Like I would assume this was after Timmy loses his fairies?

Also what happened to him, like how did he became an angel? Why?

How did the council managed his appearance and what happened when he woke up?

Who assigns him his charges and how exactly his duty as a Guardian Angel works?

Also what happened with his previous life? Like I guess the 500 years coma was in Fairy World years, since he beccomes Hazel's Guardian so on Earth things kept going, what happened with his parents, his friends?

Hoo Boy this is a nice doozy! SO!!

1 and 2: This AU takes place when Timmy is only 17, just One year shy of losing his fairies forever. Unfortunately the combined stressors of: - Knowing He's gonna lose his Fairies. - His parent's neglect becoming worse after age 14 to the point he spends weeks alone. - Cosmo and Wanda talking out loud about properties in Fairyworld they're looking into once they leave. -Francis's bullying taking an even harsher turn to the point Timmy was put in the hospital a few times. - The thought of losing Peri, the only one who took his emotions into mind at all times. and a whole lot more, sadly caused him to become Pataint 0 of a brand new disease that effects mainly godkids.

The Disease was named T.H.S [Timmy's Heart Syndrome], it shares similarities with BrokenHeart Syndrome but it mainly effects godkids who have been subjected to intense amounts of stress due to neglect or bullying. Timmy was affected with all the factors of it, at once, for the length of YEARS, so his death made the disease easier to contract as it sorta evolved.

After his death, Timmy was found, in pretty rough shape, at the rainbow bridge of Fairyworld by random civilians. He was quickly taken to the hospital where it was discovered his rough shape was due to his new wings growing in. Of course something of this magnitude has to be called in. Effectively putting the hospital on lockdown, none allowed to enter without explicit permission from the Council or Jorgen.

The death of a godkid was unheard of.

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3: Once the Council learned of Timmy's fate, they basically locked the hospital he was at down TIGHT. Nobody outside was allowed to see him and any information of him was swiftly redacted from everywhere, even his Godkid file was sealed under the highest security. Timmy was basically wiped from everywhere in efforts to protect him from the eye of the public and media not even Cosmo, Wanda or Peri know he lives in Fairyworld, and he was put under strict 24/7 monitoring by none other than Jorgen, cause nobody wanna mess with him tbh.

But the news always spreads.

Waking up from his coma was a whole fiasco on its own.

Its a tad bit terrifying going to "sleep" with immense chest pain in your room and suddenly waking back up in FairyWorld with a whole new look and some BIIIIG reserves of magic that you have no idea how to control. Its the main reason Timmy has a halo rather than a crown. The Council and Some very powerful fairies put so much magic into Timmy's halo in an attempt to curb or even completely halt his magic until hes able to control it himself.

Which sorta takes the next 500 years. COUGH

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4: HIS CHARGESSS!! As before- with his new powers comes with new abilities- and in the beginning his ability led him to kids who were suffering T.H.S at stage 2. His abilities and the spread of the disease made it harder and harder to keep under wraps so the Council decided that a new wing was needed to both study and attempt to stop the spread of the disease. Thus The Guardian Wing of FairyWorld was born. The Council held reign over it for a while, splitting into 2 to lighten the load until a proper Commander could be assigned.

Jorgen and More Higher Ranked Fairies were assigned to train Timmy in how to control his powers, leading to a few unexpected explosions till he managed to get a handle on it.

Lets just say Timmy out of Mortal School was actually a very quick and advanced learner. Advancing through most of his trainings, within the 500 years it took, with efficiency and speed not many fairies possess. Wasn't long before he was advancing through the ranks. TLDR- Timmy is actually the Guardian Commander, most Guardians are actually assigned charges by HIM. Tho Guardians are assignment status is a totally different process If anyone's interested!

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5: ......His previous life was......not so good. His parents came home from a 5 week vacay to notice the house was exactly how they left it. Barely realizing their son was gone until a few days passed. Only then did they realize something was wrong. Once they entered his room and found it a mess with some blood scattered around did they THEN call in the emergency...

unfortunately no body was found. Chester and AJ were devastated once Timmy's disappearance was announced in the school. They honestly though that he was finally taken on vacation by his parents.. They spent years grieving their friend and even meet up on his birthday to remember him. [Disclaimer: In this AU Fairyworld and Earth kinda run on different times, time in the Fae realm kinda goes faster than Earth.]

Trixie acted like a total attention hog, claiming how she was so endeared by Timmy's crush and acting like she lost the love of her life- [I had personal beef with her as a kid XD]

Hell even Crocker and Francis paused their antics for a while once it was announced. Francis eventually went back to his old ways but Crocker became quiet, a more introverted teacher until he retired.

Tootie took his kidnapping the hardest cause she's the only one who knows. She knows he passed on. She was on her way to visit when she spotted the ambulance and a strange family rushing out with Timmy in their arms. She found where he was buried....and every year, without fail, on his birthday, she left flowers at his grave. She never told anyone, in fear they may see Timmy's memory in negative light or use it for attention.

As Well as a Personal Favor to a Strange Pink Haired Woman.

Bonus: Tormented Creator