#that motion blur in the background is killing me

[live-at-fortune-city]

clean pics from the nmh3 site because idk if anyone else has posted em all together lol

[kai-uh-arcadian]

I feel like I know you

synopsis: you relentlessly have dreams of a woman you can never remember the moment you wake up

cw: soulmate! AU, angsty-(?), minor cursing, briefly suggestive, alcohol, brief mentions of death/killing

word count: 7.5K

notes! hi hi (: it’s lowkey inspired by the movie ‘Your Name’ but with Tzuyu! (obv) Italics indicate dreams/other timelines. I really enjoyed writing this— although I’m inexperienced I hope you enjoy! Let me know how you feel about it or if you’d just like to chat! Love youuu (:

You were at the bookstore when you first heard it.

Bells.

Clear and unmistakable, the sound cut through the quiet hum of the store. It was as if the world paused for a moment, just long enough for the chime to echo between you both.

You were walking through the narrow aisle, lost in thought, when your shoulder brushed against hers. The contact was brief, almost incidental, but the timing was perfect—right as the bell rang. Both of you stopped, caught off guard, and turned to face each other. Her eyes were wide with the same bewilderment you felt. For a split second, it was as if the world shrank to just the two of you, suspended in that peculiar moment.

“Oh-! I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath– trying to assuage the awkwardness that was in the air. She nodded, offering a small smile before you both continued on your way, the moment slipping into the background like a passing breeze.

You finished your browsing, paid for your book, and headed back to your studio apartment. The familiar warmth of home welcomed you along with your dog Bread as he was wagging his tail. You set the book down on the table, patted Bread’s head, and moved through the motions of your evening routine—making dinner, washing the dishes, tidying up and showering.

Finally, as the day wound down, you climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. Your thoughts drifted to the beautiful woman in the bookstore, the sound of the bell, and the strange sense that something had shifted. You decided to shrug it off as a coincidence as maybe someone had opened the door at the exact moment you two brushed against each other(but you swore you only heard it in your head, not from your ears.) 

But sleep came quickly, pulling you into its embrace before you could dwell on it any longer.

That’s when it began.

The dreams.

You’ve always had vivid dreams, the kind that feel more like memories than figments of your imagination. But this was different. The clarity, the intensity—it was as though you were slipping into another world entirely.Truly blurring the line between reality and fantasy.

“Jagiya~, let’s go up there! That spot looks perfect!” The voice was ethereal, almost musical, as she led you up a lush, green hill, a wicker picnic basket swinging gently in her free hand.

“Yeah! That’s perfect!” you replied, your voice bright with excitement. But even as the words left your lips, it felt odd—as if you were watching a scene play out from a distant memory, detached yet present. Like you were both an actor and observer, following along as if it were scripted, yet not fully in control.

The strangeness lingered.

You were fully conscious, intensely aware of everything around you: the warmth of the sun on your face, the way it cast a golden hue across the landscape; the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, brushing against your skin like a gentle caress; the intoxicating scent her rose perfume that drifted through the air, delicate and familiar, stirring something deep within you.

“When I used to get homesick, I would come here and make all the same snacks my mom used to make for me when she would take me out for a picnic” her voice entranced you like she was a siren. God.. Her laugh was even more enthralling, “She even let me bring TWO of my stuffed animals to join us” she chuckled

“I haven’t been here in a while though..” she trailed off as if she had more to say but waited for your response.

“Hm~? Why not jagi?” genuine curiosity evident in your voice

Who was this woman? A part of your mind questioned her identity, her presence—so familiar yet unplaceable. The other part of you was overwhelmed by an inexplicable sense of love and happiness, as if every fiber of your being recognized her, longed for her. Your soul knew her.

You could only see her back as she walked ahead—her hair was black and cascaded down her back in soft waves, her frame slender and elegant, her height slightly above average. She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her steps light and purposeful as if this hill was a sacred place, meant just for the two of you.

You reached the top of the hill, the world stretching out before you like a painted masterpiece. The woman paused, her back still to you, and you felt your heart quicken. She began to turn, slowly, as if in a movie, and you knew—knew with every part of you—that seeing her face would change everything.

“Well.. Because you’re my home now, y/n”

But just as your eyes were about to meet hers—

You woke up.

The dream slipped away like sand through your fingers, leaving you with a lingering sense of longing, of something lost and yet to be found. Your heart raced as you lay there, the vividness of the experience etched into your mind, leaving you questioning whether it was just a dream or something more—a memory, or perhaps, of a life you couldn’t quite remember.

~

These dreams persisted for weeks, each one more vivid and consuming than the last. Pages and pages of your journal were filled with each dream with the mysterious woman. You also sketched whatever details of her world you could recall—an outdoor market while she browsed records, a side view of her looking at a bouquet of flowers, and a pair of small dogs, one dark, one light. 

Yet, no matter how hard you tried, her face remained elusive. It was always blurred, or worse, you would wake up the moment you were about to see it. The frustration gnawed at you, driving you to spend more time with your journal, hoping that somehow, the next dream would reveal more pieces to complete this impossible puzzle.

After scribbling whatever details you could remember, you sighed, setting your pencil down. You cleaned yourself up, fed Bread, and sent some money to your loyal dog sitter (and neighbor!) Momo. 

With Bread content and your mind somewhat at ease, you began to organize your things for work. Once everything was in order, you decided to head to your favorite café, Park’s Perk.

~

The morning air was crisp as you made your way down the familiar street. As you entered the café, the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted you, and you spotted your friend from college, Jihyo, preparing for the day ahead.

“Jihyo-unnie, you don’t understand these dreams I’ve been having!” you whined, trailing after her as she moved from table to table, wiping them down in preparation for opening.

She paused, glancing at you with a mix of concern and amusement. “You’re right, I don’t understand, but I can imagine how crazy it must be to experience them. Maybe it’s— Hi, welcome in!”

She was interrupted by the bell above the door jingling as another customer entered. You let out a sigh, flopping down into your usual seat by the window. “ Ugh~ It’s like every time I’m about to see her face, something pulls me out of the dream. I just can’t shake the feeling that she’s important, you know?”

Jihyo finished wiping down the last table and came over to join you, setting a steaming cup of your favorite brew in front of you. You said a quick ‘thank-you’ before she continued “You know, the subconscious mind is weird. Maybe it could be connecting you to a past life or maybe it’s just showing you the type of life you want to live with someone. Did you have a dream last night?” 

You took a sip of the coffee before explaining, “Yeah we were..”

You rummaged through the cupboards of your home, carefully selecting your and your wife’s favorite tea cups. They were delicate, with hand-painted patterns you had both made at a pottery class you two took as a date. You gently scooped the tea leaves into the kettle, breathing in the familiar, calming scent as the steam rose. The boiling water poured into the kettle with a soft hiss, and you set it aside to steep

As you moved about the kitchen, you heard your wife’s footsteps in the hallway, the soft padding of her feet growing fainter as she entered the living room. A moment later, the gentle, melodic sound of the guzheng filled the air, the music wrapping around you like a warm embrace. It was a tune she often played, one that had become so familiar that you catch yourself humming it from time to time.

With the tea now steeped, you carefully carried the two cups and the kettle into the living room. Your wife was seated at the low table, her fingers gracefully plucking at the strings of the guzheng, lost in the flow of the music. You placed one of the cups near her, the delicate clink of porcelain barely interrupting her concentration. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, and she giggled in response, her fingers briefly faltering on the strings.

“Is Xinyi asleep?” you asked as you began to pour the tea into her cup, the warm liquid swirling gently.

“Yes, it was easy today,” she replied, her voice filled with warmth. “She had so much fun at the park… You’re such a good mom.” She chuckled, reminiscing about the joy on your daughter’s face just a few hours ago.

You smiled, feeling a surge of affection as you hugged her from behind, your arms wrapping around her gently as she knelt at the table. You placed a tender kiss on the nape of her neck, and you felt her shiver in response, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “You’re an even better mom,” you whispered, “and the best wife.”

She leaned into your embrace, her body relaxing against yours as she murmured a contented “Mm~” before her focus shifted back to the instrument. You released her, making your way to the couch and sinking into its familiar comfort. You rested your head on the armrest, watching her play, the music filling the room with a sense of peace and belonging.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you said, your voice low and filled with emotion. You smiled, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as the music lulled you into a state of deep relaxation. The sound of her playing, her voice humming along, was like a lullaby, soothing and familiar.

When you opened your eyes, everything had changed. The cozy living room with its warm lighting and familiar comforts was gone. Instead, you found yourself lying on a tiny twin mattress in a college dorm, facing a woman whose face was blurry. You could see her black hair cascading over the pillow, her eyes closed in peaceful slumber.

Despite the shift in surroundings, you felt an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. The comforter was pulled up to your chins, but you knew that you were both naked beneath the sheets. You reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Your heart was doing flips–you swore she must’ve heard because she spoke up!

“Mm~ what’s your happiest memory?” she purred, her voice soft as she nuzzled into your hand, her smile evident even with her eyes still closed.

“My happiest memory?” you repeated, considering the out-of-the-blue question. Your hand gently caressed her chin with your thumb as you thought. “I think… I think it’s happening right now.”

She chuckled softly, and the sound was like music to your ears. “Is it because we just fucked?” she teased, playfully slapping your chest. The outlandish accusation made you laugh in disbelief

“No~!” you huffed, trying to keep a straight face, though you couldn’t quite hide your smile. “I’m just so in love with you,” you confessed, pulling her closer onto your bare chest. Your arms wrapped around her, holding her securely as she instinctively nuzzled closer, seeking to melt into you.

“Every moment with you is my favorite memory… It’s…” You paused, searching for the right words to convey the depth of your feelings. “It’s pure bliss,” you finally said, your voice barely more than a whisper as you leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Wow…” Jihyo sat there, momentarily speechless. Her wide eyes reflected a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “That was your dream?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, leaning forward in your seat. “It was like a dream within a dream. I could feel everything so vividly, and it hurt so much when I woke up, like I’d lost something real.”

Jihyo shook her head in amazement, taking in your words. “No, yeah, that’s crazy! I can barely remember my dreams, and if I do, they’re nothing like that—half the time they don’t even make sense,” she said with a laugh.

You chuckled along, feeling the tension ease as the conversation shifted to lighter topics. The two of you finished your coffee, chatting about the latest gossip, upcoming events at the café, and Jihyo’s plans for the weekend. It was easy to get lost in the rhythm of the conversation.

As you were wrapping up your conversation, Jihyo suddenly glanced at her phone, her eyes widening slightly. “Hey, y/n-ah, don’t you have work soon?” she asked, tilting her head to the side with a playful smirk.

“Oh shit!” you blurted out, quickly checking your watch. Time had slipped away from you in the café. You jumped up from your seat, fumbling for your wallet. After handing Jihyo some money (with a little extra for the excellent company), you grabbed your briefcase and semi-shouted a quick, “Thank you!” to both Jihyo and Dahyun, who was working at the cash register with a knowing smile.

You made your hurried escape, the sound of the café’s lively chatter fading behind you. As you rushed toward the door, you slid past another customer entering the café. Just as you brushed by, bells rang out.

Something about the sound made you pause. You turned your head briefly to glance at the person you had just rushed by, catching a glimpse of her dark hair as she hesitated for a moment, then continued into the café.

“Hi, welcome in!” you heard Dahyun greet her warmly, her voice muffled by the distance.

But you were already moving again, lightly jogging away in a desperate attempt to make it to work on time. Yet, as you hurried down the street, something nagged at the back of your mind. The bells you’d just heard—those weren’t the usual café bells. They had a different tone, a different resonance, almost like the bells you had heard somewhere… before.

You shook your head, trying to focus on the task at hand. There was no time to dwell on it now.

~ 

You finished work a bit earlier than usual, it was a rare occurrence. Leaning back in your chair, you loosened your tie, allowing yourself a deep, weary sigh. Between meeting with patients, sending medication forms for approval, and still being in school to pursue your doctorate, free time was a luxury you barely enjoyed. But today, you decided to treat yourself.

You scrolled through a delivery app, finally settling on your favorite dishes. As you added items to the cart, you thought of Momo. She was probably still at your place, taking care of Bread, and you were sure she wouldn't expect you back so early. You added a few of her favorite items to the order

You trudged home with bags of food in hand, you felt the weight of the day slowly lift off your shoulders. The familiarity of home was just what you needed. Finally reaching your apartment, you nudged the door open with your foot.

“I’m home~” you called out, your voice echoing through the hallway. “Momo, I brought food,” you added, setting the takeout bags on the kitchen counter before kicking off your shoes.

Momo’s teasing voice rang out from the living room, “Home early? You get laid off or something?”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you unpacked the food. “Hey, if I get laid off, then you suffer too, Miss Dogsitter,” you shot back with a grin. “Well, whatever, I brought you jokbal.”

Her eyes doubled in size as she peeked into the bags. “You’re the best boss ever,” she declared, her excitement evident as she started unpacking the food.

You knelt down to the ground, your heart warming as Bread hopped over to you, his tail wagging so furiously you were surprised it didn’t fly off. “Hi, baby~~!” you cooed, scratching behind his ears as he licked your face in greeting.

Momo, already impatiently digging into the food, glanced over at you. “You okay? How was work? You kinda look like shit,” she remarked, her voice muffled by a mouthful of food.

“Oh, wow thanks,” you replied, giving her a gentle nudge. “But yeah, I’m good. Just a bit mentally exhausted. I can’t seem to get a good night’s sleep lately.” You sighed, walking over to your living room and settling onto the couch with your food. “Work was fine, though. I actually finished up a bit early, which is why I was able to grab this before the place closed.”

Momo plopped down beside you, still chewing. “Oh! I bought you some beer and soju,” she said, swallowing her food. “I know you’ve been having those dreams, and I heard alcohol affects your REM cycle. Maybe it’ll stop the dreams? It’s not—or shouldn’t be—a permanent fix, but I thought maybe tonight you could use a break and get some better sleep.” She smiled at you, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

You paused, considering her suggestion. “Ah~ that’s not too bad of an idea. It is Friday, after all, so maybe I should try that tonight,” you agreed, digging into your samgyupsal.

After you two finished eating, Momo insisted on cleaning up while you headed to the shower. The hot water cascaded over you, washing away the stress of the day. When you emerged, the scent of food was replaced by the faint aroma of soju and beer. Momo had laid out an impressive selection on the table, and you couldn’t help but smile at her thoughtfulness.

You threw on a hoodie and joined Momo on the couch. She’d put on a random K-drama. The two of you chatted about anything and everything, the conversation flowing easily as the alcohol took the edge off. By the end of the night, you were both pretty drunk, laughter filling the small apartment as you reminisced about old memories and whatever the hell was on your mind.

When the hour grew late, Momo helped you into a makeshift couch bed, tucking you in. “Alright, get some sleep,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll be right next door if you need anything.”

You mumbled a sleepy ‘thank you’ as she quietly let herself out, heading to her apartment just next door. The room felt warm and cozy, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins as you drifted off, thinking that maybe tonight, you’d finally get a peaceful night’s sleep. Momo had said that alcohol could affect your REM sleep, meaning you wouldn’t dream—or at least, you wouldn’t remember your dreams. Right? It sounded like exactly what you needed. No more strange visions, no more waking up with a sense of longing. Just sleep. Right!?

But you were wrong.

Out of all the dreams you’d had, this one stood out the most.

Feudal Japan, Taisho Era

For as long as you could remember, your life had been defined by a single purpose: to protect the princess of Japan. These were the direct orders given to you by Lord Chou, the man who had rescued you from the wreckage of your past.

You were just a child, barely five years old, when Lord Chou found you. Cowered in a corner, knees drawn to your chest, you wept as your parents' lifeless bodies lay before you. Raiders had slaughtered them, leaving you orphaned and alone. Lord Chou, who had killed the raiders, initially intended to leave you there, a mere child of poor merchants with no future to speak of. But then, something caught his eye—a samurai sword lying beside your father’s body.

With a furrowed brow, he studied you for a moment before speaking the first words that would change your life forever: “From now on, you will be my daughter’s protector. Dedicate your life to her.”

And so you did. From that moment on, every breath you took was in service to those five words. You trained relentlessly, honing your skills until you were one of the finest samurai in all of Japan, sworn to protect Princess Chou with your life.

~

It was the night before a raid, and the atmosphere in the camp was thick with tension. You and your fellow samurai had been informed that you were outnumbered, 80 samurai against an entire army. Death was not just probable; it was certain. But you were not afraid. This was the life you had signed up for, a life that had been gifted to you as a second chance.

You knew what you had to do. But before the sun rose and the battle began, there was one person you needed to see—one person you had to say goodbye to.

The guards at the palace entrance let you in without question; it was not unusual for you to visit the princess at odd hours, checking in on her safety. Tonight, though, was different. As you approached her quarters, dressed in a simple yogi, you felt the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“Chou-sama, may I come in?” you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” came the familiar voice from beyond the tatami door. The soft glow of an oil lamp illuminated the silhouette of the princess, her figure graceful and serene.

You slid the door open, revealing the princess still adorned in her elegant jūnihitoe from today’s farewell ceremony, a sight that made your heart ache with unspoken emotion. She looked up at you with a polite smile, though her eyes held a hint of curiosity.

“Hello, Chou-sama. I apologize for the late meeting,” you said, bowing deeply, your forehead nearly touching the floor.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile gentle. “Do you need anything, y/n-san? It’s quite late.”

“Again, I apologize for the intrusion,” you began, sitting up from your bow. “I am aware of the hour, but I wanted to say goodbye. I leave at daybreak, and I fear this may be our last time speaking.”

Her face softened, her eyes widening in shock. You had known Princess Chou since you were children, she was always a bubbly and mischievous spirit. (you would usually always take the blame for her.. Unless of course they caught her red-handed) But about 5 years ago when she turned 13, the weight of her responsibilities had turned her serious, her carefree demeanor replaced by a stoicness that rarely broke.

“I see...” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Princess, that is all I wished to say. Thank you for allowing me to be by your side all these years. I owe my life to you and your family,” you said, bowing once more as you prepared to take your leave.

“Tzuyu,” she suddenly announced.

You paused, sitting back on your heels as you looked at her in confusion.

“My name is Tzuyu,” she repeated. “Please, call me that.”

In all the 13 years you had served her, you had never known her first name. It was not unusual, given your status as a samurai, once a mere peasant. “It’s a beautiful name... Tzuyu,” you said, the name foreign on your tongue as it seemed disrespectful.

Her tone sharpened, though not unkindly. “Are those your final words to me? Or is there more you wish to say?”

She had always been perceptive, reading your body language and the emotions you struggled to conceal. Your heart ached with the weight of everything you had left unsaid, and your eyes flashed with a sadness you could no longer hide.

“Go on, tell me,” she urged, her gaze softening as the stoic mask she wore began to crumble.

Taking a deep breath, you met her eyes. “You gave me a reason to live, a purpose that has defined my existence. I have gladly dedicated my life to you, which is why I am honoured to die for you. From the moment we met, I was prepared to sacrifice my life for yours. But while I am unafraid to face death, I am terrified of leaving you behind. You are the only person I have final words for, the most important person in my otherwise meaningless life.”

Her expression remained composed, but you could see the glossiness in her eyes as she listened to your words. “I could speak to my father,” she bargained, her voice monotone. “If you die, who will be my protector?”

“Cho-.. Tzuyu... this is something I must do. It is my duty, the vow I made to your father. I cannot dishonour that promise,” you replied, your heart sinking as the reality of the situation settled in.

“I see,” she said, though her tone betrayed the emotions she struggled to suppress.

“Promise me that you’ll come back alive?” She whispered looking at the tatami mat below her

“I promise I will fight until my last breath to return to you” You said trying to assuage her worries, knowing that survival was futile. She caught it too.

A heavy silence fell between you, both of you lost in thought, searching for the right words to say.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence.

“Yes... I believe I do,” you answered, surprised by the sudden question.

“Then promise me that you will find me in the next life. Promise me that you’ll never leave my side, that we’ll live as normal civilians, free from war,” she said, her voice quivering with vulnerability.

For a moment, the room was silent, her request hanging in the air. Finally, you nodded, your voice steady as you replied, “Yes, Tzuyu, I promise. A life where war does not exist, where you need no protection, and I can live peacefully by your side.”

Tears began to spill down her cheeks, the facade of the princess melting away to reveal the woman beneath. The woman you have loved for years. The woman that you’ll love in each lifetime–each timeline. “Kiss me, please. That is an order,” she whispered desperately as her voice broke.

You got up and you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, a culmination of years of unspoken feelings. That night, your bodies blended into one, a final act of love and devotion before the sun would separate you forever.

~

The clang of steel echoed around you as you fought relentlessly on the battlefield. Your sword clashed with that of an opposing soldier, your movements swift and precise. With a final thrust, you ended his life, but before you could even take a breath, a sharp pain shot through your back, spreading to your chest.

An arrow.

You gritted your teeth, trying to focus through the searing pain, but another arrow followed. Then another. And another. And another. Four in total, each one piercing through your back and exiting through your chest.

Cowards.

You staggered, blood seeping through your armor, staining the ground beneath you. With every step, your vision blurred, but you kept moving, refusing to fall. The weight of your promise to Tzuyu was the only thing keeping you on your feet. But your body could only endure so much, and eventually, it gave out. You collapsed harshly onto the ground, the earth cool against your burning skin.

As you lay there, the world around you seemed to fade away. The sounds of battle grew distant, and all you could think of was her.

Tzuyu.

Her name was a chant in your mind, a desperate plea that echoed in the void of your fading consciousness.

Tzuyu.

You had promised her, but now you were dying, unable to keep your word. The regret was a weight heavier than any armor, crushing your spirit even as your body lay broken.

Tzuyu...

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t return.

The darkness began to close in, your vision narrowing to a single point before it, too, disappeared. The battlefield, the pain, the regret—all of it vanished into nothingness.

And then, with a jolt, you woke up.

Instead of waking up in your bed,

You woke up on a sandy shore, face down, the gritty texture of the sand pressing against your skin. Your heart pounded in your chest as you jolted awake, not a single ounce of pain surging through your body. Confusion clouded your mind as you pushed yourself up, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

The sea whispered softly against the shore, its rhythm almost hypnotic, but your focus quickly shifted to the figure standing not too far from where you had been laying. It was a woman. She was sitting while watching the waves, her long, dark hair swaying gently in the breeze. Something about her presence felt achingly familiar.

You got to your feet, the sand shifting beneath you as you cautiously made your way toward her. As you approached, you could feel your heart racing, a strange mixture of hope and fear building inside you. You sat down beside her, your gaze fixed on the horizon where the sky met the sea.

“What’s your name?” her voice was soft, almost ethereal, as she finally spoke.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with possibilities, before you answered, “y/n. What’s yours?” Your eyes remained locked on the scenery before you, afraid to look directly at her, afraid to confront the truth.

“It’s.. Tzuyu,” she replied, her voice carrying a weight of unspoken memories.

The name struck you like a bolt of lightning. You turned to look at her, your eyes wide with shock as if the final piece of a complex puzzle had just fallen into place. She mirrored your expression, her own eyes widening in recognition.

“It’s you!?” you both exclaimed in unison, the disbelief in your voices quickly dissolving into laughter, tinged with the relief of finally understanding.

“You’re the girl in my dreams?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you spoke. Tears began to well up in your eyes, and despite your best efforts, they started to stream down your face. You tried to smile, but the overwhelming emotions made it difficult.

“It seems so,” she replied, tears trailing down her own cheeks. “Each day I wake up missing you. I’m just… I’m just really… happy to see you, y/n!” Her voice cracked with emotion as she threw her arms around you, pulling you into a tight, desperate embrace.

“Me too, Tzuyu,” you murmured, your voice breaking as your own emotions poured out. Tears fell freely from your eyes, soaking into her shoulder. “Every morning it hurts to wake up without you.”

Tzuyu sobbed quietly into your shoulder, her body trembling against yours as if holding on for dear life. Her grip tightened, her fingers digging into your back as though afraid you might disappear if she let go.

“I just… I’m sorry—I can’t seem to remember you,” she whispered, her voice cracking with frustration and sorrow. “No matter how much I try, no matter how much I write or draw… I can’t seem to—” Her voice broke, and she buried her face deeper into your shoulder, her tears soaking through your shirt.

You felt your heart twist, a sharp pang of sadness cutting through the warmth of the moment. You gently  patted her back, trying to comfort her, though you knew the weight of what she was saying. “I know, Tzuyu,” you whispered softly. “I don’t know how.. but we’re here together now. That’s what matters.”

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze, her eyes still glossy with unshed tears. 

“Can you remember anything before you came here?”

You furrowed your brows trying to remember, “Hmm. The last thing I remember before showing up here was… I think I was a samurai?”

Tzuyu’s eyes widened in surprise, her breath hitching slightly as your words sunk in. She gazed at you as if the pieces of a puzzle were slowly clicking into place. “You were… my protector?” she asked, her voice trembling with both wonder and disbelief.

You nodded slowly, the memories rushing back in vivid flashes—armor, sword in hand, standing at her side in a life long past. “Yes, Chou-sama.” You chuckled in disbelief and more tears trailed down your cheek as you smiled so brightly

Tzuyu’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time they were different—tears of recognition, of understanding, of something deeper than memory alone could explain. She cupped your face in her hands, her touch tender as she studied your features like she was trying to memorize every detail.

“I think… I think I kind of remember now,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Not everything, but pieces… glimpses of you. Moments and memories with you” She laughed softly through her tears. “It sounds crazy, but I think I’ve been searching for you across lives… across timelines”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. All the moments you’ve shared with her flashed in your mind– finally remembering. “I’ve been searching for you too. And somehow, we always find each other.” You brought your hand up to gently wipe a tear from her cheek. 

“Do you think,” she anxiously began “that whenever we leave this place, do you think we’ll just forget?” she said softly, barely above a whisper

There was a pause in the air. As if you both came to the harsh realization that you’ll just be left with the longing for each other.

“I don’t want to forget.”

“What if we tried to think of a way to remember each other?” She began as if a light bulb appeared above her head “Like hmm… do you have a pen or–”

But before she could finish, something strange began to happen. The shore around you started to stretch, elongating in a way that defied all logic. The distance between you and Tzuyu grew longer and longer, pulling her away from your embrace as if some unseen force was tearing you apart.

“Wait! No-! y/n!” she cried out, her voice filled with desperation as she reached out for you. She got up and  tried to run toward you, but the distance only increased, the shore stretching endlessly between you.

“Tzuyu!” you shouted back, your voice breaking with panic. You ran toward her as fast as you could, your hand outstretched, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t reach her. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision, but you could still see her hand reaching out for you.

“My name is Tzuyu! Please.. please don’t forget me!” she yelled, her voice trembling as she fought against the ever-expanding distance.

“y/n! It’s y/n!” you screamed, your voice echoing across the shore as you stretched your hand toward her. You were so close, almost touching her fingers—

But then you woke up.

You shot up from your couch, your heart hammering in your chest. Tears flowed down your face, the remnants of the dream still clinging to your mind like a fading mist. The emptiness beside you was unbearable, the longing for her presence too much to bear.

You were back in reality, but the pain was still there, fresh and raw, as if the dream had torn open a wound you didn’t even know you had.

“No..wait..” you trembled as tears blurred your vision “No!” you yelled in frustration causing Bread to shoot his head up from his bed that was placed next to the couch (Thanks Momo)

“What... what, god..fuck, what was her name!?” you hyperventilated  as you looked at your hand that almost touched hers

“Fuck..!” you sobbed “Why can’t I remember her face? Or her name?!” frustration spilled out of you as everything seemed to be on the tip of your tongue yet unable to grasp it

~

The dreams stopped happening. 

Looking back in hindsight, at the time they were 

Frustrating.

Annoying.

Pesky even.

But now?

More than anything, you missed her—the girl who had once haunted your nights and now left your days feeling empty

To escape the aching void she left behind, you threw yourself into work, burying the longing under piles of paperwork and endless meetings.You even paid Momo ‘overtime’ as you decided to work 12-hour shifts from time to time each week. She never asked why you were suddenly working twelve-hour shifts, though the concern in her eyes said enough..

You even confided in Jihyo about the dreams—or the lack of them. She suggested you try everything from ‘shifting’ podcasts to ‘lucid dream’ vibrations on YouTube, but nothing worked. The harder you tried to dream, the more elusive sleep became.

One weekend, you overslept for an alarming number of hours. Momo let herself into your apartment to do a ‘wellness check’. Bread’s excited barks greeted her at the door, tail wagging so hard it looked like he might take off.

“y/n, you okay? It’s Momo, I’m worried” she announced making her way through your apartment while petting Bread.

She opened up your bedroom door and was greeted by a groggy you(alive and well)

“Hmm~?” you mumbled “Momo? What are you doing here? Are you okay?” You said as you plopped back into bed, stretching like a lazy cat

“Am I okay?” she huffed. “You weren’t responding to my texts like you usually do, you vampire! It’s almost 12:45!”

“12:45?!” You shot up, reaching for your phone in disbelief–blinking a couple times to focus your eyes. Sure enough, the screen glowed back at you with the time—12:37 pm.

“Yes, idiot!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Whatever—I'm just glad you're okay. Seems like Bread’s happy you’re okay too.” she said as Bread made his way onto your bed, licking your face

“Ah~ hi baby~! Good mo- afternoon~!” you cooed at him “ Sorry for worrying you Momo, I just took melatonin a bit too late I think” you said as you shifted your focus to Momo

“Don’t worry, maybe as a thank-you, you should take him on a walk today– seems like you need the fresh air more than me” she chuckled as she settled down on the foot of your bed

“Yeah that seems like a good idea, feel like I lost half my day” you rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment

“Yeah, well.. you kinda did!” she teased

~ 

After cooking bre..lunch with Momo, you got ready for whatever was left of the day and leashed up Bread. You  headed out towards the park hoping that it would clear your mind

As you made your way to the crosswalk that was in the direction of the park you usually went to, you noticed a woman on the bus. You recognized her from somewhere. Your soul pulled you to go to her but she was in the lane that was turning left. 

She met your eyes and jolted towards you as the turn light turned green, causing your body to also jolt forward… only to be stopped by the cars that were driving in front of you.

Something inside of you needed to see her– yearned for her.

So you took the risk. You picked up Bread and weaved through the traffic while multiple cars honked at you.

You made it across the (seemingly) endless crosswalk, the bus she was in made a right turn and you watched her as she locked eyes with you from the back window/door of the bus as she faded into a silhouette 

Defeated and broken.

You made your way to the park. You found a bench and sat down, letting Bread wander within the limits of his leash while you sank into your thoughts. Time seemed to blur as you replayed the fleeting moment over and over in your mind, wondering why it hurt so much.

The leash tugged at your hand, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Bread straining toward another dog across the park. Your eyes followed the leash to its owner, and there she was—the woman from the bus, walking two dogs of her own.

Your body moved on its own. Like she had some sort of magnet pulling you.

You finally reached her. She was a distance away but it was her. It was for sure, the woman from the bus.

Bread noticed the two dogs and pulled you closer and closer to her before reaching them.

The three of them began sniffing each other and you politely said “Oh he’s very curious, sorry” You gaze focused on the dogs, trying your best to mask the turmoil inside you

“It’s okay,” she let out “they are too”

Awkward silence hung between you, the kind that feels heavy with unspoken words. You finally broke it, the question bursting out before you could stop it.

“Have we met before?”

She tilted her head slightly, as if trying to recall. “I think… maybe… Oh—! You’re the one that bumped into me at the bookstore!” she exclaimed quietly.

A tinge of sadness settled in your heart, as if that wasn’t the right answer, or maybe it was just too mundane to explain the ache in your chest. “Oh—! Yeah, that’s right… sorry about that again.” You chuckled, but it was hollow, devoid of real humor.. You swore it wasn’t that..Or maybe it was just that. Was it?

Silence hung in the air after she whispered a quiet “it’s okay”

“Well, I'll let you get on your way. Thanks for letting Bread meet them” You said as you fought back tears before (quite literally) tugging Bread away

“No problem, I thank you too..” she called after you, her voice tinged with a sadness that matched your own.

You two began to part ways

Why did your heart hurt so bad? Why does it feel like the Earth itself is laying on your chest right now?

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you fought tooth and nail to keep walking away, lightly tugging on Bread’s harness as he also wanted to go back

You were almost to the turn out of the park before you heard a voice yell a familiar name

“Tzuyu!” 

You froze, turning around slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. There she was. The lost memories of her rushed back into your mind. The woman from the bookstore, the bus, your dreams. Tears streaked her face, but she was smiling—a radiant, beautiful smile that lit up her entire face.

“My name is Tzuyu!” she said again, her voice trembling with emotion, a laugh escaping her lips as another tear raced down her dimpled cheek.

You felt your own smile forming, though it felt awkward and lopsided, as if you weren’t quite sure how to use your face anymore. “Tzuyu-ya!” you called back, your voice cracking with emotion.

“I feel… I feel like I know you!” you said, the words tumbling out of you, raw and desperate.

Her smile grew even wider, if that was possible. “I.. I feel the same way!” she replied, walking closer to you with each step.

“I think we finally found each other, Tzuyu.” You began closing the distance between you two

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she was smiling, a smile that spoke of happiness, of a future you could finally share.

“I’m so glad,” she whispered, stepping closer, her arms wrapping around you in a tight, desperate embrace. “I’m so glad I found you.”

You held her close, feeling her warmth, her heartbeat against yours while tears streamed down your face. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you, together at last.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt at peace. The dreams, the longing, the months of searching—they had all led you here, to this moment, to her.

Finally, after all this time, you were home.

[teddybeartoji]

fem!reader

walking through the door, his eyes immediately start scanning the crowd in search of you. suguru mumbles something about getting drinks and wanders off, leaving bf!gojo to his mission. and then he hears it. his ears perk up at his own personal favourite sound - your laughter. it bounces off the walls, muting every other sound in the room and it makes the corners of his lips twitch upward. god, he can't wait to see you.

and finally.

there you are.

a group of people step aside just in time and it's like something out of a movie. everything is in slow motion and everyone in the background blurs, all except for you. you're facing a friend of yours, not noticing your beloved boyfriend almost having a heart attack, before said friend nudges you toward him. turning around, you greet him with the biggest smile.

satoru feels his heart explode. he's standing there like a fish out of water, his mouth hanging ajar. you look like an angel. the lights are hitting you perfectly, making it seem like you're the only person in the room. finally regaining consciousness over his body, his hand flies to his chest with a big sigh, making you giggle. excusing yourself, you start making your way over to him and his eyes almost pop out of his head. it's like he's seeing you for the first time again.

he keeps his hand over his heart, trying to make sure it stands in it's place and he seems to be speechless. that's a first. there just aren't words good enough to describe you. sure, he can keep calling you his angel but in reality that just won't suffice. he needs to start making up new words for the love of his life. a whole new language just meant for you.

when you're just about two steps away, satoru releases another deep sigh, letting his eyes close and head hang back. you're killing him. you really are. he lolls his head to the side as he looks at you with his one opened eye. if he were to look at you with both of them, his heart would surely give out then and there.

now stood in front of him, with an unwavering smile, you beam at him and his dramatic antics. raising a hand, you brush a stray white hair from in front of his eyes, fingertips gently brushing over his cheek - a pinkish hue now embellishing his face.

satoru stares down at you and all he can think is how fast could he get a wedding ring? is there a store nearby? would it be open at this hour? how silly would it be if he just dropped down to his knee right now? would you say ye--

"you're drooling." you say with a giggle. you're trying to remain cool and calm and collected but in reality, his reaction is making you sick; the butterflies in your stomach are about to burst out of you and you can feel your ears burning. god, you hope he doesn't notice.

he does. how could he not. he's now extremely focused on your current state, how even though you try to keep your eyes on him, they seem to keep flickering down to your fidgety fingers. how even though, a big grin adorns your face, a deep blush creeps up your skin - a hint of shyness poking through.

"a-am not." he nevertheless wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling. he takes your small hand into his big one and urges you to do a spin for him. "c'mon, show me."

laughing, you do as he says. still holding onto his hand, you do a full 360 and demonstrate your outfit, making him groan and grasp at his heart once more. do you know what you're doing to him?

"you are ridiculous." he is truly the most dramatic person you know.

"you are the most beautiful girl on the planet." but also the sweetest.

your eyes soften while his are filled with pure admiration. you are the one for him. a comfortable silence falls between you, gazes and fingers locked together. bound together. it's just the two of you in this crowded room.

"thank you." it comes out as a whisper. "you look so handsome." you raise your free hand to trace over his tie and up and over his shirt collar. you can smell his cologne, it's the one you gifted him last year and it warms your heart.

he leans down to your ear and whispers back. "i think i'm having a heart attack."

"you- wait, what?" you pull back at his serious tone but you're still met with just a stupid smirk. "that's not funny, satoru. heart attacks are a serious topic."

"and i am so serious, baby. dead serious." he places your palm over his heart and you feel it strongly thumping in it's cage. "told you."

"maybe it's trying to escape, have you considered that? maybe it's fed up with your antics, hm?" you tease.

"well, maybe it's making it's way over to you, to crawl into your chest, have you considered that? maybe it just wants to stay with you forever, hm?" he quips back.

you flutter your eyelashes at him, trying to find the words to show how much you really truly appreciate him and his silly words. so you take his other hand and bring it to your chest, where he meets your very own pounding heart.

"hm, maybe we should exhange them? you know... maybe they'll calm down?" and it's the seriousness in your voice that really gets him. satoru feels himself turning into putty. it's like he's melting away. you and your touch and your words and your heart - it's all too much for him. his mind goes back to that proposal scenario. he wants you to be his and him to be yours. he does want to exhange hearts.

he leans down to press a chaste kiss on your nose. "i love you." he has said it before but he doesn't tire of it. you need to know.

pressing a kiss on your cheek. "i love you." he says it again. his affection is making laughter bubble in your throat and you don't want this moment to end.

another one on your other cheek. "i love you."

and finally, he presses his soft lips to yours, hands still holding each other's hearts. "wan' to have your heart and wan' you to have mine." he mutters against you.

another silent giggle escapes your lips and falls straight into his mouth. he swallows it proudly. "promise?"

"promise."

[selarina]

→ Suna Rintaro x Fem!Reader

Summary: When a guy asks for your number, you sternly insist on a condition that leads to unexpected love.

Content Warning: Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Highly Suggestive, Canon-Compliant, Swearing, Social Media AU, Drinking, NSFW, exhibitionism-ish, possibly red flag behavior, dark humor, mention of killing people as a joke

Series Masterlist

Chapter 7: Hoodie

Written Portion Below

(Feel free to skip past the first half if you're not comfortable with a suggestive scene. And please, read the updated warnings above.)

You start to pick the sides of your nail, no longer able to just fiddle with your rings. You're late but the line of other late people in front of you is deliberately making you more and more anxious.

You want to reach your seat before the commercials stop.

You notice a sea of people already settled in their seats, and your eyes immediately scale up to the back to try and find him, but you can't. The lights are too dim to make out any faces.

You start walking, find the empty spot next to him, and swiftly seat yourself.

Feeling a presence approaching, he turns his head discreetly, a grin forming on his lips when you finally sit.

"All that talk about me being late," he teases, as you deftly shift your bag onto his lap. He holds onto your bag as you put your hoodie on.

You hold out your hand, for him to slip the bag back into your hand and he goes still for a moment, looking at your neck? You look down, confused if you had something on you but he motions that it's okay and holds onto your bag on his lap.

You shrug. "Intermission popcorn's on me," you whisper in his ear before swiftly placing a soft peck on his cheeks.

You slump back in your seat, all comfortable this time. The commercials are still going on in the blur of the background, but you barely register any of it. You turn, and you're a little happy there are not many people in the back row, except for that one old guy in the very corner. The minutes pass as the movie begins.

You're well into the beginning of the movie, the protagonists are established, and you come to think if you should have asked your friend what the movie was about as it seems to be leaning towards a romantic thriller, while you thought it was something akin to a horror movie. But you find it intriguing enough nonetheless but the darkness does make you feel a little sleepy but the loud sounds of the speakers keep you awake enough.

You didn't immediately notice but you've been playing with the rings on Suna's fingers. You're usually one with a need to fiddle with something while sitting still for this long, but that's why you wore your rings maybe because you were so in your own head, you forgot to notice your hands reaching for his. Or maybe his hand reached out to yours.

Once he notices your hands stilling against his. His fingers slide fully over yours, folding around them, offering a reassuring squeeze before his grip loosens and comes to rest casually on your leg.

You smile, because you think it was sweet. But in retrospect, it was anything but. Not when he started spreading the span of his hand over your upper thigh as his fingers begin to stroke gently against you.

You lean towards him, and lean to ask him in a low breathy voice, "What are you doing?"

"Hm?" He hums, "Nothing," he feigns innocence, but his hands don't stop their ministrations.

“Okay,” you respond rather raggedly. His hands shift up, only to fumble through higher and higher up, and you hold your breath in anticipation, but his hand stills so you find yourself holding your breath.

You pray that he stops and doesn’t dare stray any further, but at the same time, you hope that he does stray a lot further than is appropriate. You swallow dryly, your head turning to the old man who seems to be engrossed in the movie. You relax.

And just when you think he's about to do something he pulls his hand away, to your dismay. His hand moves up to rest against the armchair. But the damage seems to be already been done. You find yourself obscenely horny for the rest of the first half of the movie.

—

It's intermission, and you're annoyed at Suna fucking Rintaro and his measly long fingers.

"I'm not getting you popcorn anymore," you pout, your arms come to cross around you as the two of walk out to the popcorn aisle.

''Oh?" He smugly, "I think I'll survive."

You groan, "What was that even about anyway?"

He raises his eyebrows, a hint of concern. "Was that not okay?"

You look away, annoyed but mostly flustered, "I didn't say that."

He doesn't say anything after, and the two of you walk back to your seats in silence.

You already start munching on the popcorn, as soon as you sit. You think it's almost about time the movie starts when he tugs on your hoodie.

You look at him, a bit surprised. "Yeah?" you lean in a bit further towards him to ask him what's wrong.

"Is this yours?" He asks, tugging once again at your hoodie.

"No, it's not?" You say, a little confused. "It's yours."

"It''s not mine."

"Huh," it takes you a second before you raise your eyebrows in recognition. "Oh, fuck. I must have taken the other one," you say.

He tilts his head, he seems plainly confused.

"I have three similar hoodies, including yours. Must have gotten confused," you explain.

He nods in understanding, "Oh, whose is it then?"

Yeah, you were hoping he wouldn't ask. "Yeah, it's my ex's," sheepishly. You should have paid more attention.

"Oh," he says but you can't really make out what he's thinking.

"You said three hoodies. You starting a collection of some sort?" There's an undertone of amusement, but there's a soft tint of curiosity, and something else entirely.

Your eyebrows furrow, "The third one's mine. But yeah, I really should find a place to hide your body now that I've secured the jacket."

He tilts his head, a lot more animatedly than the first time he was confused.

You continue, "Yeah, I like to collect Kendrick Lamar hoodies from my victims, before I — you know," your finger coming up to your neck to gesture slitting your throat.

"Ah, Kendrick Lamar hoodies as a trophy. Aren't you the most unique killer in the block," he says, in false praise as you start laughing.

"Besides, dying at your hand? Quite the honor," he wistfully sighs, as he slumps back into his seat with a hand on his chest.

You grin, as you ruffle his hair in tandem.

The movie starts again a while later, and you take off your hoodie, placing it on the empty seat beside you. This time, your hands come up to his on the armchair, slipping in between his fingers as the movie passes.

TAGLIST: @wolffmaiden @tenaciouswritersheep @90s-belladonna @alienvarmint @kodzuchim @themoonreflectsthesun @baramii @haruskatana @rukia-uchiha-98 @aimno256 @userwithlotsoftime @userwithlotsoftime @alldaladiesloveleooo @iluv-ace @noideawhothatis @vivian-555 @buggy-cj @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @cloudsvna @zukowantshishonourback @rory-cakes @shookykookie30 @2baddies-1porsche @thechaosoflonging @rntrsuna @ahnneyong @saiewithakatana @sukunasrealgf

A/N: GUYS DO NOT DO THIS IN MOVIE THEATRES.

This is the worst thing I've ever written. Don't look at me. But also find yourself a man that is honored to be killed by you. Have a good weekend mwah.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Question for The Winners Of The Idiot Olympics (The Firsts + Zack + Cloud)!!!

FMK: Lazard, Hojo, Hollander ???

Please and thank you 😘😘😘

SOLDIER Vlogging Shenanigans pt. 33

[There's a blur of motion as the camera is turned around. Angeal films himself at his desk. Talking and the clatter of plates and silverware are heard in the background]

"So we're all having lunch right now in my office," Angeal tells the viewers. The talking immediately dies down as the others realize he's recording. "But I'm about to make them all lose their appetites."

[He turns the camera around, pointing it at the rest of his office. Genesis and Sephiroth are on the two chairs across the desk, meanwhile Zack and Cloud are on the floor]

"We're gonna play bed wed or behead!"

[Zack and Cloud immediately groan, putting down their takeaway containers. Sephiroth looks duly confused, meanwhile Genesis just rolls his eyes]

"Just say fuck marry kill like a normal person!" Genesis scoffs, taking a sip from his apple soda.

[Angeal zooms the camera in on Sephiroth, who looks lost and very much like this -> (• •) ?]

"How do you play?" he asks, leaning back in his seat.

[Angeal fails to hide his snickering from behind the camera]

"Basically I'm going to say three names, then you have to tell me if you would...marry, sleep with or kill the options."

Sephiroth nods. "Alright, I loosely understand."

[Cloud raises his hand in the background, and Angeal zooms on on him. Zack is seen doing bunny ears on him while sticking out his tongue]

"And who are the options?"

[Angeal veers the camera back around and points it at himself. He's laughing now]

"Lazard, Hojo and Hollander—"

"Kill Hojo," Sephiroth says quickly.

[Angeal pulls a face, then quickly pans the camera back around to Sephiroth, who looks dead serious]

"You would...Kill Hojo. Okay. Fair. And what about the rest?"

[Zack and Cloud are seen discussing their options in the background, meanwhile Genesis is staring blankly at the ceiling fantasizing about something]

"I don't know," Sephiroth shrugs. "After executing professor Hojo I would desire little else—"

"Okay, you're done!" Angeal says quickly.

[He pans the camera to Genesis, who's now winking at the camera and sitting up straighter]

"So I've decided to bed Lazard—"

"Here we go," Angeal sighs

"Marry Hollander, seeing as I've no other option, and kill Hojo."

[Sephiroth jolts in his seat. Angeal flinches, causing the camera to shake. Sephiroth and Genesis are engaged in a firm handshake, almost as if the two men have closed in on a deal...]

"Alright, Weird..." Angeal mumbles.

[He zooms the camera back in on Zack and Cloud]

"Have you two decided?"

"Yup!" Zack grins, throwing his arm over Cloud's shoulder. "And since we're a package deal, we've decided to..."

[He motions for Cloud to continue. Cloud sighs, then rolls his eyes]

"Bed Hollander, marry Lazard and kill Hojo."

[A chorus of cheers erupt in the office. Angeal flinches again, then films the other four guys jump up and start whooping, patting each other on the back and congratulating each other]

[This continues until the small group disperses out into the hallway. Each of them are in the process of unsheathing their weapons as they make a beeline toward the elevator]

"Wait!" Angeal calls in a panic. "Don't actually kill him, or we're all going to jail⏤SEPHIROTH! PUT THE MASAMUNE AWAY!"

[He quickly ends the video]

[hiatusdeity]

will graham finding someone still alive at the crime scene:

•he’s never the first on scene by any means, but he’s early, just him and jack after getting an anonymous call. the call was heavy breathing, filled with splatters in the background, of what they could only presume to be blood.

•by the time the address is traced and they’re there, there is no noise. Jack and Will creep through the halls of the house, the door left wide open and glass window smashed. their boots creak gently. Jack straightens his gun and swiftly checks doorways and corners, it’s second nature to him now.

•Will however, sniffs out with his bloodhound nose. he listens for any twitch, any sound of breath or squirming, he flares his nostrils at the profound smell of blood. by the time they go upstairs, they can decipher where the crime scene is. the crimson trail of blood that is freshly congealed stares back at them, they go into all the rooms, no signs of life, the family of a daughter, a son and two mothers lay lifeless. Jack marks it down mentally as a potential hate crime. and when they think there is no life to be seen, Will’s ear twitch, and he hears the slight hitch of a breath in a closet.

•he motions to jack, they approach silently, Will looks feral, ready to strike at any point, he lost his morals a long time ago, he is not afraid to butcher someone. but as the doors are pried open, scared eyes look back, and blood is leaking out of their side. “he stabbed me and, and i hid here. i heard him kill them all and i couldn’t do anything.” the young man hiding in a mess of clothes sobbed, finally letting out noise. “i should be dead with them, im so sorry, i’m so sorry.”

•whatever heart Will possessed in the moment, had snapped, his head blurred with anger, someone had been so cruel to murder an entire family. leaving this man behind was not intentional at first. but the killer let him live, to hear the endings of his family. Will felt sick, and he clenched his fists to stop the snarl from lurching up his throat. “it’s okay son.” Jack tried to affirm, “you didn’t do anything wrong, your instincts kicked in. stay with me and we’ll find the bastard who did this.” Jack kept speaking but the boy’s eyes fluttered shut, Will had jumped into action quick.

•the hospital was further away than hannibal’s, so hannibal was the best option. when they arrived, Will practically thrust the young man into Dr.Lectors hands. Lector worked meticulously and slow despite the limited time. he seemed not to worry at all, and his lack of worrying was for good reason. The man would be fine, just dizzy and exhausted for a few days.

•and while the unconscious man laid injured and ridden with survivor’s guilt, Will was following tracks, with hannibal close by his side. Not known to Jack or anyone else, Will had seen eyes in the back garden of the house earlier on, and this hound had sharpened his claws, ready to spill blood.

[bafflement]

Here, have another :)

"I can't believe this..."

For the boys (Cloqwork :D)

Qrow whooped as another Grimm fell to Harbinger, sending a grin over to Oz who grinned back just as happily. It had been one of Glynda's better ideas, chasing them both out here to work off some steam by killing the Grimm that infested the area. After all, that was why they had become huntsmen, to destroy the monsters. Not to do paperwork or play at politics, for all the fact that Oz was, well, Oz, sometimes necessitated it.

He stared though as a rather larger Grimm appeared. It wasn't a type he'd seen before and he saw Oz going worryingly still out of the corner of his eye. Ah well, even if he didn't recognise it, Oz certainly would. Oz murmured something too low to hear properly and blurred into motion, hitting the thing over and over again with The Long Memory, knocking it backwards with each strike. He knew he should help his partner, but Oz looked so damn beautiful like that, fighting monsters as though that was what he was born to do. As the Grimm dissolved, Qrow couldn't help but let out a whoop, his smile so wide he feared it would split his face in two.

"You're gorgeous, Oz. you know that?"

Oz flushed but smiled, pleased. "You're just saying that because you think you must, Qrow. I doubt that, after that fight, I look anything but scruffy and exhausted."

"Gorgeous." Qrow repeated, his voice firm. "You're so beautiful, Oz, how did I get so lucky? My semblance is bad luck, not good."

"If I'm beautiful, you're breath taking, Oz countered, a smirk on his lips before he drew Qrow in for a heated kiss. A flash went off in the background and both of them froze. Where had whoever took that come from?

"... I can't believe this..." Qrow moaned, seeing the journalist who quickly darted out of the way, clutching his camera close.

Oz was still blushing, but defiant. "Let them. The whole world can be jealous of me for all I care. I have you and that's what matters."

"Pretty sure they'll be jealous of me, Oz, of the two of us you're the better catch."

"Agree to disagree, my dearest Qrow?" Oz whispered against his lips then kissed him again. They didn't get much more done for an hour or two after that, but at least the positive feelings were a very good Grimm deterrant.

[raadiomaquia]

Was thinking recently about how trash motion blur is, which led to thinking about cinematography tropes and shenanigans that I don't like, and because the action genre is the easiest one to pick on, i present to you:

WHY DARK HALLWAY FIGHT SCENES ARE JUST BAD

Have you ever seen a scene where the MC starts fighting in a dark room while gunshots/sparks from metal clashing are the only source of light and each time one of these go across the screen we can see The Action ™ for a brief moment.

Well i don't like when that happens, and because i am so chivalrous and benevolent towards the good people of hollywoo, i'll explain why this sucks in this essay and even offer a solution!

1. It just sucks.

I'm not epileptic, i don't get sick or anything related to flashing lights, but these scenes have actually made me feel sick since i saw them with 7-like years old on some fast&furiouse movie i saw with my family and i still hate them.

The sole idea of this format feels jarring visually because it creates a brief moment of disconection or uncertainty in the viewer, but not the cool "outmatched" or "outplayed" kind of situation where the uncertainty comes from not knowing what happens next or how the MC will or could come out of this situation (if the media is good enough to make you feel like the MC is not invincible)

We know that they're kicking ass. You are not a god of cinematography by covering our eyes and giving us the ilusion of fast paced shots and takes and it just feels unconfortable for the watcher (and potentially lethal for someone who can have a seizure at the mention of porygon)

2. I just don't like it lol

WHAT'S BETTER THEN?

These scenes are used in more grittier "vigilante" settings to emphazise the edginess (i guess..?) of the world and the poor conditions of the place where the Kombat happens. So i think the solution is

STEALTH SCENES JESUS CHRIST

Stealth scenes do the exact same thing as dark hallway fights and better by kilometers!

The outmatched thing can be reserved for other instances knowing that in the dark hallway scene the MC wins against the small army of nameless goons, so taking them silently not only makes more sense but can also match the setting or the goal of the character. (for example spider-man stealth where the setting is not exactly dark but it makes sense)

The dark hallway scenes on the other side are just a slightly faster version of these and feel just wrong.

BALLS TRIPPIN WHILE KILLING PEOPLE SCENE

To be honest i think this could only apply to animated media but something something hotline miami 2 ending with The Son could be awesome to see, just imagine the goons deforming on neon colors on an abyss while some EDM song blaring in the background.

This one is more limited because it could only be on clubs of when the MC is high and it's not exactly tender with people who can have seizures so.

[satiricaily]

for the wip game what if i was feeling suissidal and asked u abt what is home to juwon 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 (no pressure it’s ok if u have nothing for it i just love how it could potentially kill me)

wip game

absolutely no pressure at all !! this was something i wish i could have finished writing because the concept was right in my hands - the only factor that wasn't on my side was time until i just lost motivation </3. but. it's mostly a character study on juwon (obviously) divided into three parts; when he was a kid witnessing the mess of his household, to his time in an all-boys boarding school where he figured things out about himself, during which he never really knew what home was, not until he met dongsik (which is the last part of the fic). in a nutshell; it's just a journey throughout his life. here's the intro and a snippet of the first part because the two other parts are so horribly drafted;

Noise. Strangers. Home. 

Everything in life was always loud and fleeting for Han Juwon. He had always been sitting in the backseat of a fast moving car; the world going past him in a blur where faces never stuck to him and landscapes were merely a background set for his own pathway, where if he tried to stare at a particular facet of such distant world he'd find he would only get a headache by the end. Motion sickness, his father would say. Don't look too deeply. Just rest your head and close your eyes. 

In the process, he might have forgotten to reopen them and found comfort in the darkness instead. 

Ignorance is bliss. 

And so the world fell apart around him as he sat there, his eyes closed.  

---

Noise. 

It itched him like the static of a broken TV, like the numbness in his limbs whenever he sat for too long. He hated the endless questions his classmates asked him because with no answers to give them, the questions only felt like falling shards of glass, pointing fingers, mocking him, taunting, how could you not know? How can you not have one single answer? And every night he came home hoping to find those answers only to receive more static, cacophonous, buzzing in his ears until he could no longer distinguish between his father's begging and his mother's crying. 

Noise was an unwelcome guest who had prolonged its stay in his life, and he didn't know how to get rid of it until the day the dissonance simply slipped away from him, along with his mother. As if both had never been such a prominent presence in his life. As if they never existed in the first place. 

Hold me. 

That was the last noise in Juwon's life.

[gertlushgaming]

Dead Island 2 Review (PlayStation 5)

 For our Dead Island 2 Review, Where this thrilling First-Person, Action RPG takes players across a brand-new playground – a hellish vision of LA (or HELL-A, as we like to call it). Dead Island 2 is stylish, vibrant, and flooded with zombie infection. Explore iconic, gore-drenched Los Angeles. Meet larger-than-life characters. Slay countless foes in exquisitely bloody detail. And evolve to become the ultimate Zombie Slayer!

Dead Island 2 Review Pros:

- Decent graphics. - 48.34GB download size. - Platinum trophy. - You get the PlayStation 4 and the PlayStation 5 versions of the game. - Zombie ARPG gameplay. - Graphics settings - HDR, a field of view slider, motion blur, SDR brightness, HDR brightness, and HUD screen extent. - HUD preset - Custom, full, minimal, and dynamic. - Controller settings - Four layouts, three stick layouts, swap shoulder buttons, Invert axis, and sensitivity sliders, aim assist strength, dead zone sliders, and sensitivity boosters. - Streamer mode. (copyright music Related) - Subtitles - on/off, size, and background opacity. - Transfer PlayStation 4 save data option. - Collectibles to find - blueprints, journal entries, and Zompedia entries. - Co-op campaign with private, public, and friend lobby options. - The single-player mode is offline solo. - Full stats screen. - Six characters to choose from and each has unique stats and skills. - Cool character selects screen. - Fmv and in game cutscenes. - Familiar controls. - Can skip cutscenes. - First-person view. - Tutorial pop-ups as you play. - Button icons show on Interactive parts. - Enemy health and stamina bars show above their head. - Great music with atmospheric implementation. - Weapons break and have durability. - Cool slow-mo kills. - You can throw weapons. - Action movie-style scenarios. - The map is represented as a map to the stars flyer and you can add your own waypoints. - Earn EXP and level up to get stronger, more healthy, and your health bar refilled. - Plays just the same as the last few games. - Every weapon has a power number and what type of damage (blunt/sharp) - Mission markers show on the screen. - Challenges are optional tasks you trigger for bonus rewards. - You can loot everything. - Collect resources for repairing and upgrading weapons. - Parry an attack by timing your block to momentarily stun a zombie, and grab them to do big damage. - Alarms play a big part. Find them and disable them otherwise, it will go off and you get a zombie horde after you. - Fuse boxes need fuses and are generally used to lock loot rooms. - When grabbed a QTE triggers. - Investigation areas turn your compass yellow to signify you are in one, here you look for clues, etc. - Weapon wheel for fast access to weapons. You can carry eight at a time. - Skills are handled by unlocking slots and finding/earning skill cards and equipping them. - Create your own unique character with the skill cards. - Fast travel unlocks via a map and on each location it shows how many of the optional and story tasks you have done including points of interest, and lost and found tasks. Dead Island 2 Review Cons: - Cannot rebind controls. - No dedicated performance or quality setting. - The story route feels like the first game as in the type of locations you visit. - Takes a lot from the first game especially. - Does take away a lot of other mechanics from the games like base-building defenses and smashing doors open. - Slight performance stutters even in cutscenes. - Never sure when it is saved or last saved. - Had zombies just spawn right in front of me many times. - Bit gutting the way they add so many scripted pickups and encounters. Related Post: Call of Duty: The Board Game Announced for 2024 Release Dead Island 2: Official website. Developer: Dambuster Studios  Publisher: PLAION - Embracer Group Store Links - PlayStation Read the full article

[aidemint]

Sunday Nights Are For Dreamers | Viktor

word count: 4.7k+

pairing: Viktor/Reader, Viktor x Reader

warnings: sick Viktor :(

notes: arcane has me in a chokehold rn also!!! sorry for not posing in so long ToT hope you enjoy though :) this is also cross-posted on AO3!

for my friend @crsjunkyard​ ! welcome to tumblr :)

It’s still dark outside when you wake up.

A midnight background drapes across the sky of Piltover, thick, ceaseless shadows consuming the atmosphere and suffocating the breeze—a still, unfamiliar evening.

Stars outside shine through half-open curtains, silvery light spilling through the divide and onto the floor, pooling in blurred patterns on the carpet. Mercury, you think, or perhaps a more conventional sterling silver. An acknowledging hum comes from your throat, breaking in the middle, early morning spells draining life from the velvety tone.

Minutes pass, the scene holding nothing but lackluster existence, until you deem the time fit enough to try to rise. As far as you're concerned, it should be an easy process.

But when you blink away the bleariness in your eyes and awaken enough to form coherent thoughts, you realize that the conditions you went to sleep under unfortunately serve as the setting you wake up in. You’re alone, cold, body only half-covered by the wool blanket you’d bought for nights like these (a night in which, perhaps, it would be best to share with a loved one).

Disappointment is quick to replace ample content.

He’s still alone, working, wearing himself down.

The absence of Viktor leaves your mind wandering and your heart longing—a certain sense of grief that overtakes your senses as you drift away to think of him.

It’s torture to picture him still sat at his desk in the laboratory, pulling plugs and examining fissures, focused on the one thing that’s kept him captivated for so long. You didn’t blame him. The look of it was a piece of work in itself—deep purple with a seemingly infinite combination of ancient ruins, strong light in the center illuminating the ornate patterns with a kind of majesty unfound in both Piltover and Zaun—forget what purpose it served.

But he’s killing himself.

You bite your tongue at the thought, wincing yet still acknowledging the truth within the statement. He is, with every day that passes, every test gone wrong, every loss and unbearable suffering.

Well, then again, you doubt that metal is so easily destroyable with the passage of time (or, at the very least, you hope—what would you do without it).

Faith keeps the thought at bay for a little while, softened silk waves running across a plane of darkness, bending every hardened corner of shadow into familiar comfort. But after a while, when your subconscious abandons its dormant state, you begin to see it in the motions of the night.

A crimson handkerchief, toppled chair spilling fibrous cotton onto the floor, research papers a blur, chaotically scattered and drifting across the ground with every radioactive pulse of the lavender Hexcore. Electrifyingly, your view pans to grey fingers, cold and unmoving, bloodied with cracked fingernails and freckles on the backs of the digits.

Your vision slides up, up, up, up, up to a shoulder—slim, rounded, familiar—to a neck—thin and shriveled and red —then to—

You smash a hand against your forehead, cutting the reel short through brute force and you groan. Continuously, you knock tightened fists against your skull in desperation, fear, every emotion that spurs your blindness you hit yourself with. Despite the pounding ache building in your head, you remain, praying that this nightmare might stay away, pass, leave and grant you mercy for this one night.

It reduces your serene state to a blankness, almost emptiness as you simply stare at the wall with no direction to go, effort directed towards suppressing the fear creeping up your throat.

A creak suddenly hauls you, blinking rapidly, into the present. It's the bedroom door swinging wide for uneven steps; it quietly sheds its solitude as it approaches and fills into the reedy, gentle silhouette you know and love.

Hope. There it is again.

It blooms in your heart and you untense at the warmth, finding that the shadows no longer seem haunting—just peace and quiet in darkness.

You find the strength to stop your struggling and pretend to be asleep when he quietly slips underneath the sheets with you, careful not to disrupt your falsified bliss. A smile curls the edges of your lips upon witnessing his delicacy.

You’re used to the feel of his legs tangled with yours, the gentleness of one arm or two splayed across your body when the two of you sleep together, but there are always moments when he gets close—near enough to feel your heartbeat against his own—and you feel like falling for him all over again.

His lips brush across your cheekbone, and that’s enough to make you gasp (how long have you two been together, yet you still act like a child who’s met love for the first time). He draws back upon hearing the breath, cautiously peering at you for signs of conscious life. You stir, to his slight discontentment, but he sets his hands on your waist to welcome you into reality, his mouth pressed on the tip of your shoulder.

“Виктор?” you call, the echo of your voice muted by the walls of your bedroom, “Are you alright?” He responds with a “mhm” before proceeding.

“I’m fine, my love,” he says slowly, chest rumbling as he speaks against your skin, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No. I was already awake.”

“Waiting for me?” Guilt is woven in thick threads through his voice, to which you sigh. “I hope you weren’t staying up too late.”

“I think I should be the one concerned for you,” you whisper, finding his hand underneath the blanket and giving it a squeeze, “At the rate you’re working you’ll—”

Your chiding splinters off into jagged fragments of concern wearing away at the air when Viktor starts to convulse, coughs, expressions too big for his body, wracking his frame, fate’s cruel hand violently shearing away the inside of his lungs. The stilted half-gasping, half-choked wheezing that pushes its way into your ears doesn’t listen to Viktor’s strangled plea for it to remain a crimson secret spat into the last-minute, soiled tissue he has by his side.

You close your eyes, heart twisting with each retch that you know wrings his body bone-dry. His frame shudders behind you—fully, completely—and you can do nothing but witness the scene unveil with bated breath.

Wincing as he pushes off of you to curl into a fetal position, meek, afraid, you wait, reassuring yourself that the nightmare would be over soon. Saliva pools in your mouth when he gags, biting back a strangled cough—you feel weak, but swallow the rising bile in your throat.

Whenever his jaw unhinges it sounds like death.

It’s different from the calls of crows near your childhood home, the wailing of victims in the mean streets of the undercity, the screams of the unfortunate (but wasn’t that just everyone in the underworld).

The sound that comes from Viktor is whole, unbroken, unrelenting—the noise of Piltover, but reminiscent of Zaun. He produces shallow coughs, mostly, but the moment he breathes deeply and lets go, you feel like you’ve been run over by a freight train.

It reverberates in your chest, rings in your ears, shouts at you from all directions—even some you didn’t know were present.

It’s supposed to be muddled, it’s supposed to sound weak, wet, pathetic, like a puddle against a boot or some cold shower.

But it doesn’t.

Do you contemplate death, he once asked you, What does it feel like?

And that scares you.

When Viktor finishes, discarding the bloodied napkin with a simple toss to your nightstand, he returns to his place behind you. Melting into him again is surprisingly easier than expected.

Your waist, you think, felt oddly bare without his hands loving it.

“Do you need me to get a towel?” There’s no judgement in your voice—only a slight, concerned lilt when considering the amount of blood laying within the crumpled tissue only a few feet away. You feel him smile against your skin.

“No, but thank you.” A pause filled with uncertainty follows, but you’re quick to catch on, making sure that it doesn’t last for long—too long.

“Okay,” you reply simply, turning over to face him, “Then let’s hope that I don’t taste blood.”

You both could use a distraction right about now.

Viktor’s cheeks flush a light pink when you kiss him, slipping your hand to cup his face, palm resting on his jaw. His cheeks are warm, undeniably rose-colored and perhaps the same hue as the shells of his ears (maybe even darker than that).

A tingle shoots through your core when he presses back, eyes fluttering shut and arm wrapped around your waist, pads of his fingers pushing on the small of your back. Your fingers curl and you begin to grow breathless as he starts to explore, hands slowly traversing the entirety of your torso.

You tug on his hair, tufts of chocolate locks clenched in between greedy fists, and he groans, giving the edges of your lips one last kiss before moving down.

“Viktor—” you whine, guiding his head to the base of your neck, “Vik— Mmnh—” His hands brush the sides of your arms and you feel like you might explode, oh how sensitive you are.

“Do you want to stop, маленький котенок?”

“I don’t but—” You take a sharp breath when a sudden sense of responsibility crashes into you headfirst as he laps at your collarbone. “You have to sleep.”

“I can’t, not now, солнышко,” he murmurs.

“Why?” The question comes out as a gasp as Viktor snakes a slender hand down your side, cold fingers dancing along the warmth of your bodice. “Viktor, you have to— sleep—!”

He doesn’t give a response, only sucking harder on your skin, busying himself with something as an excuse to ignore your question. You’re quick to fade back into bliss again, clasping a hand over your mouth to stifle a sudden gasp when he tightly grips your hip.

“Блядь!” He finishes when you cry out, strings of saliva connecting the bruise on your collarbone to his thin lips. Staring vacantly at the mark for a second, he bites the inside of his cheek then buries his face in the crook of your neck, seemingly seeking comfort. You promptly cradle his head, patting his back as you calm down from your high.

“Is something bothering you, Vik?” you ask after minutes pass. It’s a stupid question, but you know that he won’t admit the issue unless asked. He keeps silent regardless, and you sigh.

You want to examine more, peer into that bright mind of his and fish out the turmoil that plagues its waters. It’s a bitingly cold sensation, the realization—perhaps he thought that he should have to endure it alone—that sends chills down your spine, goosebumps rising from the neck down.

However, you give him time to admit his own truth, and he eventually comes around.

“I'm afraid so,” is what he says with hesitancy in his voice, timid and unletting, “But I’ve just been thinking, that is all. Thinking a lot about many things.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” It’s a gentle prod, nothing too forceful, lest you wish to scare him away.

“I… don’t,” he confesses, “But I think that if I let problems fester, they’ll become something even worse.”

“We’ll take it slow,” you say, rubbing your hand against his forearm, “Sit up and do it face-to-face. Turn on the light so we can see each other. How ‘bout it?” You feel him nod and you help yourself up before assisting him, only needing a soft tug to lift half of him up.

He starts to cough the moment he’s upright, hacking blood into his elbow as you hold him steady, trying to remain calm when he doubles over with both arms seemingly bound to his chest. His shoulders come up and his spine curves into a wishbone, torso crumpled in on itself as if to break himself in (the larger piece connected to the split he would take, then somehow things would be alright again). He fumbles for his tissue, choking into the red-stained white.

Viktor speaks in haggard gasps, drunken wheezes, and torment—he says don’t worry, everything will be fine, have faith.

By God, by anyone that’s out there, do you have faith.

“I’ll turn the light on.” It’s all you say—it’s all you can say.

You just wonder if it’s ever enough.

Viktor stops convulsing a few minutes later and you pat his back, relieved. You don’t speak until he wipes his fingers and mouth clean with a fresh tissue.

“If you need to cough on the bed, it’s ok. I can clean the blanket in the morning.” He hums in gratitude, spitting the last of the blood into the napkin with a grimace.

“Thank you, солнышко.” You smile and kiss his cheek before leaning over him to turn on the light.

With a flick of the wrist and a downwards pull, a soft, yellow-orange hue floods the room, a stark contrast to the blackness you’ve been living in for the past few hours. It takes a few blinks to get adjusted to the brightness, but you quickly recover, retreating back to your position beside Viktor and turning to get a good look at him.

Butterflies begin to flutter at the bottom of your stomach once you do as you realize that you really don’t see him as often as you should be.

His eyelashes are short, subtle, but defined with the dark coloration of his hair and warm light shining from his left. Your vision runs all over his face—to his defined cheekbones, thick brows, thin lips, slender jaw, and the two beauty marks in his most kissable places.

And those eyes.

God , and those eyes.

Honeyed amber with sharpened edges—a dark, defining brown encasing an inescapable pool of liquid gold. A solar eclipse on a clear night, pupils eclipsing a forever-burning star, rays of Midas peeking out from underneath the humble black dot. His eyes are bright, expressive, everything that you could get lost in and more.

The way he looks at you is enough to take your breath away—so much adoration in the deepest of amber eyes, how they glow in the dim lamplight. Amongst the curiosity, passion, fear, awareness, there lies love.

Hope, even.

“Солнышко? Солнышко, are you alright?”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your own head and you stare at him with a surprised look about your features. He tilts his head and purses his lips as he picks apart your expression.

“Is something odd?” he asks carefully, raising an eyebrow, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Uh—” You swallow a mouthful of saliva, chuckling nervously at the sudden speed the butterflies in your stomach have taken off at. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He stays still for a moment, looking at you and nothing else. You can take it, staring into his irises and listening to your inner voice scream at you for a variety of Viktor-related reasons. It made you feel like you were still attending the academy, a naive graduate student that never learned the basis of love under the prioritization of science, but you could handle that feeling (for you’ve known it all too well).

But of course, what comes after doesn’t help your poor heart all that much either.

“I always forget how beautiful you are in this light.” You feel a heat creep up your face and you laugh, swatting playfully at his shoulder. He grins, still gazing at the joy in your expression: the crinkle of your undereyes, your wide smile, the way you furrow your brows and squeeze your eyes shut—everything.

In the midst of it all, your ample delight and his usual charm, it didn’t feel like he was stalling. It felt like real love, the moments shared during bleak hours such as these in the middle of some worn night.

But you notice fear flash across his features when you calm down, subtly lingering in the form of a downturned mouth and furrowed brows; you notice the way he darts his eyes away from you and bites back a protest with a clench of his jaw; you notice his index finger rub the top of his thumb nail, flicking the digit like a mousetrap in his lap—a habit of worry.

You never, in the present, question his genuity, but you notice, and slip your hand into his.

“Do you want to tell me what’s been bothering you?”

The question cuts through the air like a knife to hot butter and Viktor flinches, averting his gaze and tensing his shoulders. His palm almost leaves yours, but you just hold him tighter in response.

“You can take your time, mилый. I’m not here to hurt you.” His reply is immediate, distressed, disturbed; he looks at you in a panic.

“That’s not what I’m—” The brunette stifles a cough in the middle of his objection, pushing a closed fist to the front of his mouth and wincing at the dryness in his throat. “I’m worried— about.”

“Then what are you worried about?”  You’re gentle, patient, kind—with relaxed eyes and a hopeful grip around him, willingly curled around his heart, promising to never let go. He likes seeing you like this, with a small smile on your lips and a look of understanding you’ve never failed to give him, but he’s scared.

I’m worried about you, he wants to say, If your light fades when I tell you. Now that I see your face, I’m not sure if I can make the sacrifice.

“My condition is worsening.” Viktor screws his eyes shut, silently cursing at himself when he feels your grip around his hand loosen, but he continues weakly. “The doctor gave me the diagnosis after I collapsed—”

A lump forms in his throat when you fully pull your hand out of his grip.

“Hold on, what?” Disbelief floods your features and you can feel your heartbeat quicken while your limbs freeze up. “Viktor, you collapsed? Wha— J— Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I was worried that—” he starts, finding it hard to string words together underneath the pressure, “That you would worry.”

“But— Oh God— But I would worry regardless, Viktor!” Incredulity bubbles in your core and you’re not sure if you can take much more of the feeling. “You— Oh my God… Why didn’t you tell me earlier? ”

“I was thinking about it.”

“Why? Why did you even have to think? Weighing consequences against each other—this is madness, Viktor, don’t you understand?” The brunette curls his lip in a look of disdain.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I am a scientist, just as you are. How could I not—”

“Because I have a solution,” he snaps, tone unnaturally sharp. You go silent for a moment, puzzled.

“I thought that Hextech wasn’t refined enough to be used to alter mankind,” you say after you’ve thought the possibilities through. "Heimerdinger said it would take—" Viktor grimaces and your shoulders slump at the expression.

“It’s not…” He speaks with hesitancy, a meekness about his stature—reducing the inventor to no more than a little boy in the dim light. “It’s not Hextech.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s foreign.” You frown, exasperated.

“I asked you what it was, not where it was from.”

Viktor doesn’t say anything this time—though his mouth moves, the words are lodged in his throat, scraping the insides of his lumen. You sigh at the sight, a sensation of guilt creeping up your spine. It’s uncomfortable—makes you squeamish—and electrifyingly powerful when paired with the tenderness of your heart.

Softening your gaze and clasping his hand in both of yours, you lower your voice to speak.

“May I see it?” you ask quietly, “Your… unnamed solution.” You manage a chuckle, but Viktor has yet to break out of his stony expression. He takes one look at you, your hands and features, then changes directions, turning his head away to keep you in only the corner of his view.

Despite the unmaintained eye contact, there's something about his irises that scream the question “will you still love me” directly at you.

His midsummer eyes grow more despondent with every passing minute, clementine thread weaving oscillations through the dull roundness, unassisted by the lamplight that sits at his side. You squeeze his hand three times for assurance, then wait with bated breath as he continues to blankly stare at the bedsheets.

After what seems like an eon of silence, Viktor swallows, then opens his mouth to speak.

“It’s called Shimmer.” He reaches for his cane and opens up a secret compartment with the press of a button. From out of the hollowed inside, he takes out a small vial of iridescent, liquid glitter, then returns to his place on the bed.

When he hands you the violet beaker, your brows furrow, eyes transfixed on the way it… shimmers (hence the name, you guess).

Patterns of gentle purple mix in with an almost chaotic darkness, swirling inside the vial. Its aura has something sinister about it, you’re sure—a certain corruption radiating from the potion, only thin glass and a cork keeping it from spilling out and running rampant.

“What does it do?” you mumble, still observing the substance, “Are you supposed to ingest it?”

“It will help.”

You don’t like how certain he sounds. It’s worrying—and scary, so you can only pray that he leaves it at that.

“But—” Your nerves freeze over at the conjunction, a little voice screaming bloody murder at the back of your head. “—it has its dangers.”

What is science without the presence of risk?

“What dangers?” Viktor makes a face, considering his options in what to say.

The preservation of the study itself requires academics to throw many cautions to the wind.

“I don’t know what will become of my humanity if I pursue this path.”

So what yield can a divergence bring?

“Are you sure about this?”

Nothing. The answer is nothing.

“More than I’ve ever been for anything.”

Somehow, you believe him despite it all. His sincerity pushes past the fear, disappointment, misery, even hope at the forefronts of your mind and simply stays—stays and waits for a reaction to drive it away.

“Oh.” You blink away a few blurry spots in your vision. “Alright.”

You feel unlike yourself—uncomfortable and uneasy with the current circumstances laid out in front of you. Perhaps you don't know how to react, or you simply don't want to. Part of you wants to shut it out and hope for the best, part of you wants to take it in and make it better.

It’s only when you look back at your reflection in the vial of Shimmer do you realize that you’ve begun to cry. You try to suppress the feeling that washes over you when you see your stressed features in the murky violet, but it inevitably comes—a strong ocean’s wave sweeping over a polyp of coral. Emotion swells in your chest and you find that the tide gets stronger with every passing minute.

Resist, resist, resist, your soul chants, You should understand. You should understand.

But no matter how hard you try, you can’t.

You can only sit there with your shaking shoulders, trembling limbs, and quivering bottom lip when you finally let go, hot streams of crystal misery rapidly descending the sides of your face and shattering against the bedsheets when they drip down from your chin. Drawing your legs closer to you, you hug them to your chest for some sort of comfort, something to latch onto.

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry Viktor but I'm afraid— I’m afraid that—” You bite your lip as tears continue to cascade down your cheeks, falling into your lap. “Maybe one day I'll find you in your lab and— You're just gonna be— You won't be— Again— I— I'm sorry, Vik, I just— Oh God, this is just so much to process.”

“I know.” He says it like it’s something so simple, so easily understood. And perhaps to him, a man who thinks too much, it may as well have been. “I know, солнышко.”

“Viktor, what if it doesn’t work and you die? I don’t know what I’ll do.” You bury your face in your hands and take a deep, shuddering breath. “ Любимый, что с тобой будет? I'm not ready to— to lose you yet, Viktor. It's so selfish of me but please just stay a little longer .”

By now, you’ve begun to spiral.

“Что я буду делать? О боже, что будет? Иногда мне кажется, что я настолько глуп из-за того, что так много волнуюсь… Я просто хочу, чтобы с тобой все было в порядке, Виктор.” Viktor can only watch on as you weep, taking in every expression of desolation with furrowed brows and a conflicted gaze. “Не думаю, что когда-либо любил кого-то так сильно, как люблю тебя. Мне страшно, Виктор.”

You whimper when you feel his arms come around you, engulfing your figure in a tight embrace that you return gratefully.

“I’m sorry, солнышко.” His fingers curl around your shoulder, bringing you closer. “But love and legacy are the sacrifices we make for progress. I understand if you choose to despise me.” You sniff, wiping away a few stray tears with the back of your hand before replying.

“I don’t despise you, Viktor. Even if I don’t know what the future will hold,” you stress, feeling the tension seep out of him at your words, “I’m just… I’m just worried for you.

“I'm not asking you to stop. I'm not asking you to quit for me because I know how much this means to you. I just want you to be safe. Safe and happy and— And mine. And I know that it’s so selfish of me but I just want you , Viktor.”

“If the experiment goes well, you will still have—”

You can feel his chest shake when he begins to cough seconds after the break in the sentence, limbs trembling and frame quaking underneath the might of his ailment. As he gasps for air in between thunderous hacks, you hold him steady as best as you can, the amount of force pushing against you strangely vigorous for such a frail man.

“Don’t worry about me.” It comes as a whisper once the fit subsides, leaving the sheets behind you bloodied—ruined—and Viktor shivering. “Just focus on the experiment.” He nods, a low, weak hum reverberating through his being.

“You’ll get through this.” Your grip around the inventor tightens, and you find that you’re trying to root yourself somewhere once again. “You will get through this.”

"I will get through this," he recites through a sore throat, screwing his eyes shut, "I will, I will, I will."

A brief silence overtakes the two of you after the reassurance.

"It's getting late," you say after what you feel like is long enough, "We should sleep. 'S going to be a new day tomorrow." You move the blankets and tuck yourself in, Viktor acting in silent agreement, doing the same on the other side, but first clicking off the lamp light. The warmth of the room disappears with the brightness and a sudden chill runs through your body.

"Goodnight, солнышко." Once settled down, you can't bring yourself to smile at the term of endearment, but force out a response in an attempt to at least end the night normally for Viktor.

"Goodnight, моя любовь."

For a while, you can only stare at the ceiling in shallow thought, subconscious painting low tide on the canvas of the world, sending you floating into an endless push and pull of the ocean. It's peaceful, unrelenting, but peaceful nevertheless. You're reminded of your home in Zaun—the good memories.

When you finally succumb to slumber, thickened water seems to wash over your senses, your lungs coming undone into peals of ribbon and twine—strangely serene, but you're breathless all the same.

The shadow of a greyed hand graces your vision before you submit to the tide.

It is a dreamless night.

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

a comprehensive list of songs im annoyed they never used in criminal minds because their emotional impact might have killed me and/or songs and the scenes i wish we’d had pt 1:

*yes i’m aware some of these songs have since been released since cm finished filming (perhaps they’ll use them in s16+ but im not betting on it. i don’t care.

1. Knocking on Heaven’s Door by Raign.

mama take this badge from me, i can’t use it anymore... mama put my guns in the ground, i can’t shoot them anymore... feels like i’m knocking on heavens door.

Think around season 13. I see this as a team scene, perhaps when someone (preferrably JJ or Emily let’s be honest) has been captured/taken hostage/kidnapped, and they’re close to death after being beaten. The vibe is very 200. It’s a slow motion scene, when the music quietens and slows, when we see the team barge in, in the background. The captured character, lets say JJ, is close to unconsciousness and in focus in the frame, while everyone else is blurred in the background. We see, but don’t hear, Emily scream for medical as Reid kneels at JJ’s side. Luke checks her over, then scoops her up in his arms. She’s hurt, weak, but safe. This is my favourite one.

2. Youth by Daughter. 

most of us are breathing through corrupted lungs... setting fire to our insides for fun... one day we’ll reveal the truth, that one will die before he gets there... it was a flood that wrecked this home...

It could be anywhere in the middle of the series, but the scene takes place in the BAU. A scene like the one in Mosley Lane, where the children are reunited with their families. The camera pans from one team member to the next as we see their reactions; they’re happy, but heavy. They know that, for every day like this one, there are ten that don’t end well. Emily and Morgan exchange glances with each other, knowing that nobody quite understands the way the rest of the team does. JJ passes them, folder in hand, on her way to Hotch’s office. They have more work to do. The rest of the team follow her up the stairs and into the round table room, as we see the reunited families hugging their loved ones.

3. Neverland by Zendaya

we can sail away tonight on a sea of pure moonlight... we'll be young, that's how we'll stay... picture a land you'll never have seen where life is eternal and evergreen future of happiness all in your hands, all in this place I created that I call Neverland

Not a happy ending, like the one above. The team at a funeral, I see it as the funeral of a little girl they couldn’t save, perhaps. They’re there to pay their respects. Of course, it’s a voice over scene, probably Hotch speaking. The camera pans across them, standing in a line, perhaps back from the rest of the congregation. All of them in black, all of them in sunglasses. I’m picturing Reid with his crutches, so somewhere at the beginning of s5. 

4. Already Gone by Sleeping at Last

all our memories, they’re haunted... we were always meant to say goodbye...

looking at you makes it harder, but i know that you’ll find another... started with the perfect kiss, then we could feel the poison set in....

One for my shipper heart. Could be Jemily, Hotchniss, anyone. But it doesn’t work out. If Criminal Minds were Grey’s is the vibe of this one.  Alternatively, could have been used either when JJ left the team, or when they thought Emily was ‘dead’. 

5. Girls by Cardi B, etc. 

you know i tamed it, and then I named it. i put the lion in the cage and then i laid with her all night... red wine, I just wanna kiss girls....

Totally self indulgent, I just wanna see a team night out where this song happens to be playing while the girls are on the dance floor. No further comment, your honour. 

[missmorosis]

sick manager :)

-> feat. sugawara and kuroo

part 1 with bokuto, oikawa, and tsukishima here!

genre: fluff!

synopsis: y/n, the manager of her school’s volleyball team, finds herself sick after days of hard  work, yet she still goes to school to support her team~ 

warnings: the reader is sick, and she passes out in kuroo’s scenario :))

pairings: sugawara x reader, kuroo x reader (separate!!)

total word count: 1.5k

a/n: OKAY SO HAHHSLKDFJ RIGHT WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS CHAPTER I GOT SICK W/ A FEVER- I THINK I JINXED MYSELF OMG

i tried to make the scenario KINDA different, but with the same idea hehe

anYWAYS i’m so sorry if this makes like zero sense AHSLDKF- i wrote a lot while i was sick SO ill blame it on fever delusion if it flops 😌

OH AND THIS IS FOR @haikyuuheartsclub ty for reading the first one and asking for a part 2 hehe <33

You getting sick was inevitable.

You knew that you were bound to get sick with all of the work you had been doing and all of the late nights you spent preparing volleyball strategies, planning practice tournaments for your team, or studying until your eyesight blurred.

Being your school's volleyball team manager was not only hard, but it was ridiculously time consuming. Not to mention that you were bombarded with schoolwork, and you had exams coming up. Your stress levels had never been higher, and you were practically living off of caffeine with the amount of sleep you were always lacking.

So when you woke up with a sick feeling and the worst headache, you weren't completely surprised. Annoyed would have been a better word.

You knew that your team was getting ready for an important tournament, so you would have to stay extra long for practice. Groaning as you got ready, you weren't sure you could make it through the day.

You sluggishly pulled on a hoodie and brushed your teeth, taking note of how warm you felt as you washed your face. Grabbing a thermometer, you quickly measured your temperature.

100.4 Fahrenheit. Not too bad... just a low-grade fever. You tried to shrug it off and ignored how disgusting your body felt. You slung a backpack over your shoulder and walked out the door, heading to school.

You waited at the bus stop, shaking your head to try and make the sickness go away. When the bus arrived a while later, you plopped down onto the closest seat and you couldn’t stop your eyes from closing. You were just so... tired...

You drifted off to sleep, the soft sound of the bus driving across the road comforting you.

...

“Uh, Y/N?” Someone was shaking your side, and you immediately lifted your head from the bus window you were leaning on. It seemed like you just closed your eyes a second ago... where were you now?

"Mm?" you hummed sleepily, blinking slowly. You rubbed your eyes as the sunlight filtered through the window, and it made you feel warmer than you already felt.

"Hey, sorry to wake you, but we’re already at school." You looked outside, and he was right; you saw Karasuno in the near distance. 

Your brain processed the fact that Sugawara, a third year from Karasuno’s volleyball team, was sitting next to you. You saw his blurred figure lean next to you, and he brushed some hair out of your face. His fingers grazed against your forehead, but he quickly froze. 

"Y/N- Y/N! Why is your forehead so hot?" He studied your face with concerned eyes, noticing how tired you looked.

"Hm? No, it’s not. It wasn’t that high when I checked... probably the sunlight..." you mumbled, leaning on the back of your bus seat behind you. You put a hand on your forehead, and it confirmed that you were indeed burning up; it was considerably warmer than earlier in the morning. You groaned and got up.

"You don’t look too good, don't you think you should go home-" Sugawara started, but you interrupted him.

"No, you need your manager today, you guys have a game soon," you said, your tone tired but strict. Sugawara eyed you anxiously, but you waved him off. "I'll be fine," you reassured him. Grabbing your backpack, you got up from your seat, heading for the bus’ exit.

Woah.

You knew you were sick, but you didn't think you would be this dizzy. Everything seemed to sway to one side, and you put one arm on the seat of the bus, leaning on it for support. You rested your head on your arm, and you felt Sugawara’s arm wrapping around you for support.

“Alright, now you have no choice. You’re taking a break, whether you like it or not, clearly something’s not okay,” he told you, and you were too lightheaded to argue. You just nodded along and he helped you back into your seat. 

You clutched your head as you tried to make everything go away. Sugawara went to talk to the bus driver in the background, and miraculously, the driver made an exception for you.

“We’re ahead of schedule anyways,” the bus driver reasoned. He turned the bus around, heading back towards your house.

“Okay, now that that’s done, you can sleep if you want to. You could probably use the rest, I can only imagine how tired you are...” Sugawara said softly, and you gave a small nod. You scooted further down into the seats, making enough space for the boy to sit next to you. He gladly obliged, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you drifting off to sleep. Your head subconsciously drifted onto his shoulder, but he didn’t mind.

“Hey, Koushi?” you mumbled, your voice coated with sleepiness.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing... I just wanted to thank you.” Your eyes remained closed, and Sugawara couldn’t tell if the blush on your face was from your fever... or something else? 

“You need to take breaks, you know. You work really hard, it’s a wonder you haven’t dropped dead yet,” he said, half jokingly. “Thank you.” You smiled, and finally fell asleep.

Kuroo found you in the classrooms; your head was down, and your headache was terrible. You were almost asleep; you were trying your best to stay awake, and you weren't sure how long you could keep it up.

He was walking down the halls, casually glancing into your classroom to see if you were finished, and he softly smiled at the sight of you.

"Tired, Y/N?" Kuroo asked, smirking as he tapped your shoulder.

"Hm?" You lifted your head up, surprised at the unexpected touch. "Oh- Kuroo, shut up," you replied, rolling your eyes as you stretched. He laughed and grabbed your backpack for you, slinging it over his own shoulder.

“Ready for practice?” he asked, looking down at you. You nodded, and the two of you walked to the gym.

Your head was killing you with every step you took, but you had no choice but to ignore it. You looked to the distance, trying to ease your headache. Kuroo’s voice was slowly melting into background noise. 

Suddenly you froze and stopped walking, earning a curious glance from Kuroo. You were forgetting something...

“Wait- where’s my... backpack?” You spotted it on the boy next to you, and you shook your head. “Sorry, forgot that you had it,” you said, with a sheepish laugh.

“Something wrong?” he frowned. “You’re acting distracted... more distracted than usual, anyways.” You shook your head, deciding to keep your sickness to yourself.

“I’m good, just tired,” you assured him. He nodded slowly, and walked into the gym, you following close behind.

Only you, Kuroo, and the coaches were in the gym; you were early. You flashed a quick smile as you waved hello.

"Great, you guys are early. I have a couple strategies to discuss," the coach said, gesturing to a whiteboard in front of him. The two of you nodded, and he began to explain.

"Alright... if we're going to win this next match..." he started, but you couldn't make yourself pay attention. The only thing on your mind was how your head wouldn't stop hurting, everything seemed to echo, and just overall how sick you felt.

"What do you think, Y/N?" Kuroo asked, quirking an eyebrow in your direction. You snapped out of your sleepy state at the sound of your name.

“Wha-” You blinked, looking around at all of the eyes on you. You tried to remember what the others were talking about... oh. Strategies. Right. "I just think we... we need to..." You looked at thr whiteboard, but you couldn't focus. You swayed to one side, blinking hard. The world really seemed like it was tilting to one side... "Woah, sorry-" you tried to say.

"Y/N?" You saw Kuroo reach out towards you as you slowly lowered down into a fetal position, resting your head on your knees. "Hey, Y/N? You okay?" You swallowed.

"Yea- yeah. Just... give me a second," you breathed. You felt Kuroo kneel down next to you, and you were right; someone's arm wrapped around you for support, and you knew it was Kuroo's. You knew you were safe as you lost consciousness, falling further into his arms.

...

You awoke, and the first thought was how bright the gym lights were... they weren't this bright before...

"Oh- Y/N! You're awake," Kuroo said, rushing over to you. He put the back of his hand on your forehead. "You're still burning..." he said with a frown.

"Sorry," you muttered. "I don't know, I've been sick all day and I guess I couldn’t handle it..."

"Why didn't you tell me you weren’t feeling well?" he asked, concern clear in his voice. You smiled softly.

"It wasn't important... besides I have manager duties to take care of," you said with a sigh.

"Not if I can help it." He picked you up in one swift motion bridal-style, smirking as you struggled to get down. "I'm not letting you down; I'm taking you home and getting you some proper medicine for this fever of yours. Health is more important than volleyball." You huffed and flopped into his arms in defeat.

"Fine." You leaned closer into Kuroo's chest, and he smiled, satisfied with your surrender.

"That's my girl." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile.

A/N: THESE WERE NOT THE BEST- I ADMIT BDHDDJNDJEW

hopefully these weren't too bad though-

haikyuu taglist: (send an ask to get added hehe) @floralkawa <3

MWAHH THANK YOU FOR READING!!

[technoblade-updates]

Today’s Techno Twitter Like Round Up!

https://twitter.com/zurenchii/status/1443089960228302852?s=21

[Image ID: A four panel comic. The first panel shows Quackity saying “I will kill you Technoblade.” The second panel shows Techno saying “Sure, let me ask Phil first.” The third shows Quackity saying “That’s not how this works though? I’m literally threatening your life.” The fourth shows Techno, with Phil looming behind him menacingly, shouting “He said no!” End ID]

https://twitter.com/rray_mugi/status/1441886501265022976?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Techno from his recent charity stream. He is being hunted down by Squid Kid, Philza, Ranboo, Wilbur and Tommy, who are all coloured in with a single colour. Philza and Ranboo are motion blurred to emulate them having a speed effect. Wilbur is creative mode flying and holding command blocks. Tommy is glitched and floating slightly. Underneath them is text which reads “!!Minecraft But Viewers Control The Game [CHARITY EVENT]!!” End ID]

https://twitter.com/rageous_n/status/1441074247695142917?s=21

[Image ID: A 6 page comic. The first page shows Dream and a field of lavender and a text box that reads “It’s peaceful here”. The second page shows Dream turning away from the camera with a text box that reads “Guess I’m probably dead”. The third page shows Techno going into Dream’s prison cell with 2 text boxes that read “I’m wondering whether Techno is fine or not” and 2 speech bubbles of Techno’s that read “DREA- -M..?” The fourth page shows Dream laying on the floor with a red puddle under his head and Techno looking down and him with a text box that reads “Wish I could’ve said goodbye”. The fifth shows Techno holding Dream’s body with tears in his eyes and dream standing in a field of lavender before a white background with text framing the panels that reads “Sorry Techno I couldn’t keep that promise. The sixth page shows Dream smiling with text framing the panel that reads “Farewell Best Friend”. End ID]

https://twitter.com/mintycosmos/status/1440741581368086530?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Techno on a brown rock platform with yellow lines tracing along the stone. He is holding a very large sword over his shoulders and a large shadowed figure in the background is holding its brown and yellow glowing hands out toward Techno. End ID]

https://twitter.com/inozuart/status/1441029604886470664?s=21

[Image ID: Art of techno standing in a marble hallway, surrounded by pillars and statues. Above his head is a red and gold sigil. End ID]

https://twitter.com/moneyoniis/status/1440665133336780808?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Techno in front of a dark background. Many black arms are reaching for his head and face, with one of them over his mouth and another touching his throat. The points where the hands make contact emit a very bright purple light. Techno is grasping his throat around where the hand is touching. End ID]

https://twitter.com/lx_starthief/status/1442040771570331655?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Techno holding up a single small coin with a crown on it. Behind him is text that reads “323000$ Raised for SFA”. End ID]

https://twitter.com/potats123/status/1442583656153980930?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Techno and Dream wearing red and green suits. They are underneath a bridge investigating what appears to be a dead body, with Techno crouched near it and holding a bullet while Dream remains leaning against a wall at more of a distance. End ID]

https://twitter.com/darian_quilloy/status/1441965252560793600?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Technoblade holding a totem and running in fear as he is being chased by Philza, who is flying, Ranboo, who is motion blurred so extremely that he is nearly wider than he is tall, Squid Kid, who is being mauled by a pack of wolves, and several withers, who are leaving behind a burning area. End ID]

https://twitter.com/technosbestgoon/status/1440282416719884291?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Techno trying to follow a trail of bells, only held back by Dream pulling on his cloak. The trail of bells leads to a small rectangular opening that shows Dream XD. End ID]

https://twitter.com/anser_blue/status/1441860869114273792?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Technoblade with teary eyes holding his hands up in a frustrated gesture. Around his head is a dark cloud with red eyes, representing chat, that is constantly going “DING”. End ID]

https://twitter.com/cheeseberryy_/status/1441411577677115392?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Techno looking in a mirror through his hands, which are held up so the pointer fingers and thumbs form a rectangle. End ID]

https://twitter.com/ruke91213989/status/1442404903347884033?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Techno holding a Witherskull in his left hand. End ID]

https://twitter.com/alderkiwi/status/1441817055842471942?s=21

[Image ID: Exceptionally Piggy Art of Techno from the neck up saying “For you the world, Phil”. End ID]

https://twitter.com/alfa_artz/status/1441035706386632705?s=21

[Image ID: Sketch of Phil and Techno. Techno says “Go easy on him, Ranboo. He can’t read. Tragic...” and Phil replies angrily “I CAN READ-“. End ID]

https://twitter.com/jester_u/status/1441493040707915777?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Techno holding a netherite axe and ender eye, with a lavender ribbon tied to his cloak. The background shows the overworld and end fading into each other behind Techno. End ID]

https://twitter.com/jester_u/status/1438236987471941634?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Techno in front of a white background. Text next to him reads “9 Million” and “90%”. End ID]

https://twitter.com/jester_u/status/1437498453098180608?s=21

[Image ID: Art of Techno and Dream laying in a field of grass and flowers in some shade. End ID]

[littlesniggy]

(No) Strings Attached

Anon: what about doflamingo x reader where reader was unknowingly entangled in a plan their friend (what an asshole lol😂) created without telling reader and they end up being doflamingo's concubines? reader knows their life is basically over if doflamingo owns them now so just does what he says, but includes scenarios reader isnt familiar with, so doflamingo uses his strings to play with them like a toy and this extends to sex too. i dont know if this sounds confusing to you but i'd love to to see doffy use his strings on reader which leads to them doing things against their own will.♥♥ hope this sounds interesting to you!♥

I hope I got this right, lol. There were a lot of information but it was actually fun writing this. Thank you for your request! I hop you like it as well!

Warning: 18+, smut, dubcon (maybe a little), overstimulation, (forced) masturbation, Master/ slave

Word count: 2.3k

It had all started so well! Your friend had invited you to one of Doflamingo’s famous parties, telling you how much fun they usually were. Blinded by his stories and the prospect of meeting the king himself had you agreeing almost on the spot. The party was great; lots of alcohol, good music, dancing – the whole way. Your friend even introduced you Doflamingo and the king seemed fairly interested in you – much to your dismay as you would find out later.

The tall man was intimidating, yes, but he had this aura of self-confidence around him that had you drawn to him. The way he talked, the way he walked, hell! Even the way he drank his wine had something almost divine. It was just the way he carried himself.

It was like a dream come true when Doflamingo invited you to stay over-night. It was rough but you liked it that way so you didn’t mind. He made you cum so hard that you were seeing stars, clinging to him like a starved woman clinging to dear life. It all went downhill from then on.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the king asked you once you got fully dressed and made your way over to the huge door. You stopped, looking at him over your shoulder in confusion. “Home?” it was more of a question than an answer. Why would he ask? Wasn’t it obvious?

“I don’t think so. You’re staying here from now on.” He informed you, a huge grin on his face. He was laying on his side, head propped up on his hand, watching you through his sunglasses. “Why would I stay?” you wondered. King or not, you wanted to go home and take a shower.

“Do you know the reason why you were invited in the first place?” Now you were curious. “What do you mean?” you wanted to know, turning your whole body towards him. He chuckled, looking amused at your confusion. “Your ‘friend’ made some bad business choices and he needed to pay for it somehow. So, he offered you in return.” You must’ve looked like a child that was trying to understand a grown-up because he elaborated. “In other words: you’re mine.” This, you did understand and you slowly started shaking your head, increasing the speed until you shook your head so violently, your vision blurred. “No, no, no, no, no. No! He wouldn’t do that! You’re lying!” you accused him and his grin dropped, replaced by a frown.

“Believe it or not but you won’t leave this castle unless I let you.” He got up, not bothering covering himself and showing off his, admittedly, perfect body. He grabbed a pair of briefs and put them on. “I’m leaving now.” You announced, still not believing him. Doflamingo didn’t stop you when you left the room but you quickly found out that the guards were ordered to not let you leave.

“Let me through! I’m leaving!” you tried to shove past them but it was to no avail. “We have orders to keep you inside. Please, step back from the door.” One said, holding a hand out to keep you at a distance. “What the? Let me out!” you sounded hysteric and became more violently. “Miss, please! Stay back!”

Since then, two weeks have passed and you just couldn’t get accustomed to now basically being a concubine. Doflamingo made you wear more than revealing outfits and you had to serve him whenever there was a party or when he wanted to get some relieve. First, you thought that having sex with him again might not be too bad since last time was just mind-blowing – oh how wrong you were. It was still mind-blowing, but the process that usually led to your orgasm was torture.

You had noticed him playing with you outside of the bedroom – literally. Whenever you made some small mistake like dropping something minor, he’d use his strings and paly you like a doll. You had to clean something (which actually wasn’t your ‘job’ since you weren’t a maid) but couldn’t reach the spot? He’d use his strings. Your blouse was buttoned up too much? He’d use his strings and make you open a few of them, revealing more of your cleavage. The list went on and on but the moments he just loved to use his strings on you were in the bedroom.

Your body was moving to the music playing in the background, your movements smooth and fluid like you’ve never done anything else in your life. Doflamingo was sitting on his throne, his fingers were moving as he was watching you. Your skimpy outfit helped little to make you feel less embarrassed. You felt exposed but couldn’t do anything against it, the strings, as thin and fragile they seemed were extremely strong and you had no way of escaping.

Your hands moved over your body, following your curves as your hips moved in a swaying motion. “You’re getting better, Y/n.” he purred appreciative. You tried to avoid looking at him as much as possible but it wasn’t that easy.

A jolt went through your body and you were forced to dance towards him. Your body reluctantly followed his orders until you were standing right in front of him. His pink coat was like a second, visible aura surrounding him; it looked heavy and the more you started to get to see him the more intimidating this coat became.

Doflamingo looked you up and down, his grin never wavering. “Don’t you want to get undressed for your master?” he asked you, trying to sound innocent but failing miserably. The sadism was basically dripping from his voice like honey from a spoon. He made you move your hands to your blouse, opening it slowly but skillfully. More and more of your skin got exposed until you let the fabric glide over your shoulders to the floor. He forbade you from wearing a bra so your breasts were fully exposed to his hungry eyes (you imagined).

“Good girl.” He praised again. You lowered your head in embarrassment but he made you lift your head again, forcing you to look at him. “If you look down again, I’ll make you do things you’ll never forget. And believe me when I tell you I’ve been nice to you so far.” As if to punctuate his words he made you lift your hand up to your throat. Your fingers closed around the warm neck and your grip tightened. Your eyes widened in panic but you couldn’t move, couldn’t pull your hand away and had to watch him watch you choke ‘yourself’. Tears began running down your face and you looked at him pleadingly. “P-please….” Your voice was barely audible, you desperately tried to take in a breath but your grip was too tight.

Only when you were about to pass out did he let go and you took in the much-needed air, filling your lungs. You coughed, body trembling. Your eyes and your face were red from the lack of oxygen. Doflamingo kept a straight face throughout your whole ordeal, looking even more amused than before.

“What do you say when someone doesn’t kill you?” he asked. It took you a couple seconds to catch your breath but eventually you answered him.

“Thank you for not killing me, Master.” Voice croaky and hurting you pressed the words out like a curse. “That’s right.”

You felt your hands moving across your body until the eventually stopped at your breasts. You started massaging them just the right way and felt some kind of appreciation; at least he knew how to pleasure women. You pinched your nipples between your fingers, twisting and pulling on them, making you moan. “If it feels good, what do you say?”

“Please don’t stop, Master.” You moaned when you pinched your nipples harder, a small jolt of pain rushing through your body but pleasure followed right suit. You felt your core getting wet and coating your panties and Doflamingo must’ve smelled it because your right hand wandered down, opened the button and zipper, and pulled your pants down along with your damp panties.

The king looked right at your core and licked his lips. “Are you wet?” he asked you, made you glide your finger over your sensitive lips and your slightly swollen clit. You mewled but knew you had to answer. “I’m so wet, Master. Please, let me touch myself.” You begged, feeling pathetic as you asked for his permission. But Doflamingo was more than pleased with your behavior. “The you should get down on the floor and you may please yourself.” He permitted and before you could thank him you were lying on the floor, back pressed against the cold stones, legs spread and exposing your womanhood.

“Do you want to fuck yourself on your fingers?” he asked, curiosity swinging in his voice. He leaned down a little, elbows on his knees. “Y-yes, Master.” You admitted, knowing he wanted you to do it. Your hands travelled over your body once again, squeezing your tits tightly together before they moved down. He made you put your hands on your thighs, pushing them further apart, exposing you even more. Then, your hand moved over to your core, rubbing against your lips before entering yourself. Your other hand started circling your clit, pressing down slightly when you started moving the finger inside of you.

A moan escaped your lips and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling. But no matter how food it felt you knew he wouldn’t let you cum so easily. A second finger joined the first one and you spread them, feeling the slight discomfort from the foreign feeling inside of you. You concentrated on your clit, the way your thumb pressed down on it and then circled it again. “I-it feels so good.” You panted, opening your eyes to look at him. He seemed to be focused on your face but you weren’t quite sure due to his sunglasses.

“Do you want to add another finger?” Doflamingo asked, licking his lips once again. You nodded, whimpering at the feeling of another finger inside of you. You moved them forth and back, you slightly bucked your hips against your movements, lifting them off the floor every now and then.

Suddenly, your hands started thrusting inside of you violently, your finger rubbing your clit almost desperately fast. You moaned loudly, body writhing under your ministration. Your orgasm was rushing closer and closer, way faster than you had anticipated due to your movements. Your stomach tightened, your toes curled and you came hard around your fingers, clenching around them.

But Doflamingo wasn’t done yet; your fingers kept thrusting inside of you, the speed not wavering at all. Your clit felt over-sensitive and swollen, your walls kept clenching around your fingers until it started to feel painful due to the overstimulation.

“S-stop! Hah! Please, M-Master!” you moaned. Your body struggled against your movements, trying to inch away but Doflamingo not letting you.

Soon, pleasure took over your body again, your finger curled just the right way, hitting your g-spot. Your thighs were quivering, hips uncontrollably lifting off the floor and slamming down again. Your legs tried to open up more and close themselves at the same time. It didn’t take long for your second orgasm to hit you. Slick juice was dirtying the floor under and ion front of you, some of it even splashing on Doflamingo’s shoes. Once you seemed ‘empty’ did he stop your movements. You were panting heavily; your breath was knocked out of your lungs and you tried to blink your eyes back into focus.

The king chuckled at the sight of you and finally spoke up again. “You made quite a mess. You need to clean it.” He told you, voice almost sounding a little sympathetic. Almost. You knew you didn’t have a choice but Doflamingo still made you move your body and made you position yourself on your knees right in front of the mess you made. “Lick it up.” A simple order, three words and yet it was hard for you to comprehend. You looked at the floor, the slick juice glistering in the light.

You felt your head being pushed down until your cheek was almost pressing against the floor. You saw Doflamingo getting up out of the corner of your eyes. He walked around you until he disappeared behind you. A shuffling noise indicated him opening his pants and kneeling behind you. You felt the tip of his dick at your entrance, coating it in your cum. Your over-sensitive flesh sent jolts through your body and you instinctively tried to jerk away – to no avail.

“I said to lick it up.” His voice was right next to your ear but he didn’t give you room to follow his order. His huge hand pressed your face down, right into your juice. At the same time his hips snapped forward and he entered you in one swift motion. You had your eyes shut, cold liquid coating your cheek, and an almost animalistic moan rumbled through your body. Doflamingo grunted behind you, one hand gripping your hips tightly.

He started moving inside of you, his other hand kept pressing you down, moving your face through the slick fluid. “Lick….it…up…!” he panted, pressing your face harder against the floor. Your tongue darted out, trying to do as he told you. The king seemed pleased and fucked you into oblivion.

You had no idea how long he fucked you nor how many times he made you cum but in the end your body was curled up into a small ball, your senses on edge and everything hurting. Doflamingo walked through the throne room, circling you like a wolf.

“I’ll give you one hour. I’m free today so this was just the beginning.”

[missinghan]

caged in this lullaby ⤖ lee felix

❖ genre : assassin au; cop au; action; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 7,2k.

❖ warning : explicit language, mentions of blood, arson & violence 

❖ summary : felix ultimately lets go of all and allows himself to drown in the ashes of bitter tragedy to see what stays. the last thing he’d expect is a stranger with his greatest secret. 

❖ dedicated to @blueprint-han​ : a continuation of aria of an assassin. song used — the lullaby by sophism, all credits to the owner. 

prologue.

Fire cares not for the time it vanishes, only that it gives the world heat and light.

The entire building burns deeply in red, orange, and yellow. The cries of the neighborhood echoes into the night with sirens blaring in the background. Your frozen figure can only watch in terror as glowing embers dance and twirl, searing through the ground, ripping through the roof in despair. Tendrils of smoke are reaching into the sky desperately as if attempting to escape the blazing inferno below.

“Kid, I wanna have Chinese for dinner today.”

“Okay, and I should care because…?”

“Because I’m housing your ungrateful ass.”

No. No!

You drop the plastic bags in your hand, your muscles move before your mind can register what’s happening. The next thing you know, you’re racing to the heart of danger, utterly unfazed about the fact that fire is the most beautiful weapon of them all. Powerful. Destructive. Heartless. In mere moments, everything you love can be reduced into nothing but sheer ashes.

“But we always have Chinese!”

“Who’s paying again? Was it you? No, I don’t think so.”

Tears blur your vision and you elect to ignore every white noise buzzing at the back of your head. Each step you take is rather a negotiation than an order. Your limbs move like they never belonged to you. This agony has an unpleasant warmth to it, eating at your stomach and searing inside your rib cage. Your body concedes to the torment, unable to bring a single thought into consideration. The entirety of your existence yearns to curl into something fetal, something primeval, and all while the pain burns and radiates.

“Officer! Stop her! She’s running into the fire!”

“Child! What are you doing?! It’s dangerous!”

But what you’re going through is nothing compared to his torment. He’s in there. Writhing and suffering alone. It must be so painful, so cold despite the enraged flames around him. 

When a strong pair of arms slip around your body and every motion comes to a stop, there is a scream of the mouth and lungs, the sound of his name lingers on the tip of your tongue. Because a response is impossible, there comes a scream of the eyes and soul, the kind that bypasses the ears and speaks right to the heart. 

You forget how to scream from that day on because you are either left with dead silence or punished with cruelty. 

Because you couldn’t save him.

one.

The housekeeper wakes with a tight knot in her stomach. Her body topples the sheets over to reach for her nightstand, flickering on some source of light. Only silence accompanies the hard throbbing inside her chest until a loud thud comes from the hallway. Her body jolts up instantly, a hand over her chest as a soft string of melody saunters into the emptiness of the night.

“When the night is falling, and you have lost your way.”

Her quivering figure quickly exits her room with a flashlight. Her right hand clutches at her other one as an attempt to stop the shaking as adrenaline sears through her vessels. With dreaded steps, the housekeeper manages to reach the staircase, approaches the end of it, and proceeds toward the living room.

“When the rain is storming, and your world’s turned to gray.” 

The voice smoothly slips through the chilling nightfall like an allure yet there’s nothing musical about it. The lullaby sometimes goes off-tune or comes out in broken waves as though whoever’s singing genuinely doesn’t care. They sound more dead than angry, more tired than irate, making her innards shift uneasily. 

“When the wolves await outside, and you feel like you’ve nowhere to hide.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, just remember. Remember when I said.”

And they stop. The housekeeper musters up every bit of courage left. A breath in. A breath out. 

In the darkroom, even the ticking clock has a relaxed feeling, as if it’s merely a heart-beat at rest. She feels as though the air moves like cool water and the aroma of the house owner’s scented candles infuse her far more deeply than it did in the light of day. The hollow space is etched with charcoal, the fabrics are muted hues as if they too await dawn to ignite their colors for all to see. The moment she heaves a sigh of relief, her eyes make the mistake of averting to the ceiling, unveiling a scene of unimaginable terror.

Fear floods her system, it pumps and beats like it’s trying to escape. Her heart might as well explode right now because even her jaw is shaking non-stop. Her body urges her to either run fast, away from the horror laid out flat in front of her eyes, or to stay quiet and do the right thing, calling the police. But instead, she remains where she’s standing. 

There is Mr. Yuuki, the house owner she’s been working for over three years, hung upon the crystal chandelier. His limp body lets its limbs stick out awkwardly, white eyes rolled to the back of his head as blood drips to the floor, forming a dark pool. The flashlight drops to the floor, and so does her trembling gaze. She gasps sharply when a thick smear of crimson is splattered across the wooden tiles, sinking into the cracks like poison. 

Her adrenaline surges so fast she almost vomits, she can taste saliva thickening in her throat and beads of sweat trickling down on her forehead. At some point, she’ll have to move and risk the chance of getting herself killed.

Just then, a shadow comes into view and her legs go weak, letting her body collapse to the ground like a crooked puppet. Incoherent pleas pour from her lips as she screws her eyes shut, bracing herself for whatever comes next. “Please! I’ll do anything! I won’t call the police! Just don’t kill me, please! Please!”

Footsteps are advancing toward her, getting louder by the tick of the clock. They echo listlessly until the sound slowly fades away, only a soft response comes afterward.

“Greetings to his boss for me.”

two.

The mansion has been his home for decade upon decade, embraced by nature on the outskirts of the city, away from all the noises, the buzzing flow of time people have signed their souls up for. It is all concrete and tall glass windows that give overlooking views of the clear horizon, a chance to relax and take in the changing of the seasons from the comfort of an easy chair.

Yet coming from the hollow building is a strange sound, a melodic voice of pain and sorrow, of heartache and loss. The tune is soft, like grass on a summer day, or the tenderness in the air in which only spring possesses. It can fill one with warmth while weaving a sad tale of indescribable, rather forgotten memories.

“Darling, close your weary eyes. Everything will be fine.”

“Let the breeze wipe away your tears. There is no need to cry.” 

He’s seated at the edge with his back straight, he no longer feels dwarfed by the grand piano as he used to as a kid. His fingers are limber as they glide on ivory first and ebony after, his neck slightly bent down, tousling his hair to the front while his eyes flutter shut in serene. 

“You can lay down. No one will hurt you.”

The music stand lies empty, has been so for years. He only ever reads the notes within his mind because he goes as far as playing the instrument to this day for this peculiar lullaby. Slowly, the music seems to fill the room to the brim, then spills out through doors and windows and the cracks in the walls, while at the source trembling fingers dance sweetly on.

He knows that he needs to calm down. 

“Let your fears be carried by the streams. The twilight gleam watches over you.”

In his head, he reads through the music scrupulously as though he’s practicing during the old, innocent days, beat by beat, bar by bar, note by note. His fingers know precisely where to go and how each key reacts when he applies the same, adequate amount of pressure. It’s as though he can make the hammer hit each string in a way to resonate with the most beautiful of sounds. 

The thought of playing as a kid eases the spike in his heartbeat and clears his mind. He can still vividly remember the first time he got lifted onto the bench on his sixth birthday, his tiny legs dangled over the edge and his figure completely overwhelmed by the mammoth-sized instrument. His arms could barely span the length of the keyboard, his feet could only do so much as graze the pedal below.

“And when the morning arises…”

He recalls the mounts of sheets cluttering his father’s old bookshelves in such ways that he himself can’t remember their initial color. He recalls the tall figure seating beside him each time, guiding his hands across the keys, ones that were unfamiliar to music and the swell it can bring to one’s chest. He recalls those starry eyes staring down at him, the outburst of laughter, and the cat-like smile that brings love and harmony to his fragile soul. 

“I shall be by your side…”

Yet he never recalls a proper goodbye, only tears.

“Minho.”

The melody pauses sharply, his body stiffens at the name. Minho isn’t here.

“Minho, is that you?” Minho isn’t here, a voice inside him snaps.

A deep breath. He elects to ignore the strings that are bound to break inside his chest before pushing himself off the wooden bench. With a swift turn, he sees Mrs. Lee standing by the door with her hair in her face, her soulless eyes lighting up once they graze the sight of him. “Minho, my sweet child. You’ve come home. You’ve finally come home!” Her voice echoes in joy, a hand clamped over her mouth as her eyes brim with tears.

Minho isn’t here! His heart yells aloud, yet his mind can’t comply.

He doesn’t know what’s urging him to approach her, to let her lean on him. Perhaps, it’s guilt. Or the yearning for the warmth of a mother who abandoned him long ago. “Yes, mother, I’m home,” he sighs softly when she clutches at his shirt. “I’m never going to leave you again.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here.”

Hurried footsteps flood the hallway rapidly until the housekeeper barges through the door, simply breaking the agonizing silence. “Good gracious, Mrs. Lee! Goodness, she must have forgotten about her sleeping pills again.” She then hastily rushes to his side, supporting Mrs. Lee by her waist while bowing continuously. “Young Master, please, allow me.”

“It’s alright, you’ve done enough,” he waves his hands with a small smile. “I’ll tuck her back to bed, today is my day off anyway. You may go home and rest now.”

He can’t forget how much lighter Mrs. Lee has gotten, how paler her face has been. He’s afraid that one wrong movement and he might send her frail body flying to the floor. Only when she’s fully covered by her blanket, the stars come out to play and the evening takes on the aroma of a breezy night. He likes this, the softness, the quietness of the sense of resting. Moonlight is streaming through the windows yet his mind, clouded with grey, throbs uncontrollably when he realizes the sudden pang inside his chest. 

It’s been fifteen years…

His phone rings. “Sergeant Lee Felix, Seoul P.D,” he keeps his voice from shaking. Suddenly, his eyes grow wide. “I’ll be there.”

And I still couldn’t do anything for you.

three.

Light fog seeps into the depthless night when Felix exits his car, throwing on his blazer in a hurry as he staggers toward a water fountain. There’s barely any vehicles operating at this hour, leaving the streets chilling and empty. He quickly checks his watch one last time. One AM on the dot. Another sleepless night.

“Lix! Over here!”

His blank expression breaks into a grin when two familiar faces come into view. “Changbin? Hyunjin? You both got called in too?”

“Yeah, can’t believe the Chief had the audacity to interrupt my beauty sleep for a simple homicide,” the taller officer, Hyunjin, has his face contorted in faint annoyance, brushing through his long locks of hair with his gloved hand.

“The night duty squad is handling another case on the other side of the city. We know the neighborhood like the back of our hands,” Changbin gives him a hard smack on the chest, only to wince quietly later to himself. Ugh, I’m so out of shape. “If anything, we have the best chance to catch up to the culprit.”

Hyunjin protests with a forced smile, “Shut up, Lieutenant, I know that.”

“Alright, let’s review,” Felix hops into the conversation, clasping his hands together in feigned excitement. “Someone dialed 911 with a murder case on the line. The culprit, escaped or not, we’re still uncertain of. But they did leave behind a witness.”

His coworkers nod simultaneously as he recaps what Seungmin told him on the phone earlier and the three of them find themselves standing right before the provided address.  The house seems oddly quiet for someone getting murdered. “Right, chances are they’re still in there. We’d better-”

The front door comes flying open. A woman dressed in her nightgown collapses to the ground instantly, fear echoing through the rumble of her voice. “Help! P-Please! Mr. Yuuki! He-He’s dying! Please, I beg you! Save him!” With her face buried in her hands, a wave of laughter bubbles up her windpipe, shaking her core tremendously. “They did it again! They’ve claimed another victim!”

Changbin is the first one to step up, helping the housekeeper to her feet. “Miss, please try your best to stay calm. Everything is alright now, we’re here because you did the right thing of calling us. You’re safe with us,” he gently supports her by the shoulders, his voice soft but serious. “If it’s okay for me to ask, what exactly happened to Mr. Yuuki? Is there anyone else inside?”

The housekeeper seems to still be shaken. Tears are threatening to fall but she bites them back, shaking her head to answer the second question first. “N-No, Mr. Yuuki has a son but he’s currently studying in Europe so I’m the only one other than…” 

Her voice trails off, the pools of tears in her eyes are clouded with those moments of horror she wishes she could erase forever. “It was horrible! I-I was having trouble sleeping before a strange sound woke me up completely. Someone was singing. Th-The culprit was singing. And there was s-so much blood. Mr. Yuuki was hung upon the chandelier when I went downstairs! So-So much blood. I didn’t know how- or why- I- I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know!”

“Miss, please try to stay calm. I won’t ask you any more questions, I am not here to interrogate you,” Changbin exhales deeply, looking over at his underlings. “Hyunjin, go check up on Mr. Yuuki. Felix, look for the culprit. I’ll call Seungmin for more back-ups.”

The two officers comply, “Roger that.”

Entering the house, Felix is bathed in a whirlwind of chilling silence and utter darkness. The smell of blood makes something inside him twitch, prompting him to look over at his friend. “I’ll go upstairs, you stay down here and handle the body until Jisung or Seungmin comes.” 

The Sergeant advances up the long flight of stairs with his gun clutched between his hands. Almost immediately, he takes notice in the stream of moonlight illuminating the end of the hallway and rushes toward the wide-opened door. His figure barges into the room with caution and is met with the night breeze kissing his face and white curtains fluttering gently. 

Just then, a loud bang is heard in the distance. 

Felix feels himself tense up, eyes darting from one place to another in hopes of finding- there! On the rooftop from across the streets. 

In a heartbeat, he picks up his transceiver and speaks, “I have eyes on the suspect. Pursuing on foot.” With his feet on the window frame and his arms on the tiles of the roof, he manages to lift himself while his muscles contract in pain. Facing forward, Felix begins to sprint. 

The wind screams into his ears, his feet flying over steel and leaves. His shoes pound heavily across the hard surface, causing what’s remaining of the downpour this morning to slash up his legs. From one rooftop to another, his calves burn tremendously yet he keeps darting past houses, buildings, and trees with his eyes glued onto the shadow before his eyes. 

Adrenaline courses throughout his system; he can feel his whole body working, his leg muscles running warm, a thin layer of sweat covers his nape. The cold air keeps biting at his blood and lungs but he keeps his breaths as steady as he can, pushing harder and going faster. For a split moment, his foot slips when his mind is frantic with cloudy thoughts. How is it possible for one to move this fast?

The hooded figure a few feet ahead of him speaks volumes in the silence; they’re running. They’re running like the devil himself is in pursuit. Only it’s worse because the felon is flesh and blood and means to send people straight to hell just the same way. His breathing quickens at the thought process, trying to appease his need for oxygen. 

Several thuds of footfalls later, he finally decreases the proximity although fresh air now shocks his lungs, making him want to spurt and pass out in exhaustion. His body trembles from the consistent pace he’s forced himself into, yet his hands lift the firearm swiftly, his gaze shaking with the pounding inside his chest. 

It only takes so much strength to pull the trigger. He shouldn’t be hesitating like this. Felix stops himself completely, regains his composure, and raises his gun once again. He elects to ignore the blood roaring in his ears, the throbbing of his anxious heart, and squeezes the trigger. 

The bullet cuts through air and comes flying toward the wanted figure, missing them by a strand of hair. His face contorts in anger as he mumbles out a curse word. He missed. He shouldn’t have. He can’t miss. Missing isn’t an option. 

Felix pumps his legs, gaining momentum with each push. But it feels gut-wrenching all of a sudden after a few thrusts forward—his body is giving in. He watches the culprit quicken their pace until their steps turn into leaps. Just a few more feet and they’ll jump the other side of the neighborhood. 

He won’t make it in time. 

Three. Two. One. The figure gathers enough strength and takes one final leap into the night. His heart immediately drops to the pit of his stomach, every movement comes to a full stop like the sudden stretch of silence within his rib cage. 

“Shit!” He perks up at the scream and glass shattering. “Ow! Ah! Ouch! Ugh…” And...dogs barking?

“Oh come on!”

four.

His feet slip outwards on the wet autumn leaves as he rounds the corner, his breaths coming out in spurts, hot and nervous as he inhales deeper, faster. With each footfall, a jarring pain shoots ankle to knee, ankle to knee. Perhaps jumping off someone’s rooftop in a time crunch wasn’t the smartest decision. 

“Give me a break. Do you have any idea how much time it took me to outrun those dogs?”

“I won’t let you slip away. It’s best for either party if you cooperate. Don’t do anything foolish and mercy might be an option,” Felix clicks a bullet into the chamber, gaze falling onto the hooded figure.

In the dim light that oozes through a narrow gap lies the alleyway. It's the underworld of any town: gloomy and unpleasant. Darkness is lurking in every corner inside the labyrinth of narrow passages and dead ends. Litter is dumped on the street and birds nest amongst the sprawling rot. Moonlight lights up the pathway for him, making it easier to back the felon up into the corner. 

“One more step, officer, I dare you.” A warning like poison pours into his ears.

Although something seems different this time. They sound more frantic. Is there something that’s bothering them? “You just committed murder, you filthy scumbag. One more step, I dare you.”

“Oh, you’re so unoriginal,” they clutch their right arm and chuckle lightly. Felix squints his eyes with the limited source of light; inevitably, they go wide upon seeing crimson dripping to the ground. But as the second ticks by, less and less blood pour from the wound as though the muscles and skin are simultaneously closing up the seams. 

What the hell am I looking at?

A smirk. “Don’t mind if I do.”

What are they... Wait, shit-

At the kind of speed he never thought humans could acquire, the hooded figure approaches him in what seems like seconds. The sudden whiplash blows the hood back and allows them to bathe in the moonlight raw.

 “Say, what are you going to do with a filthy scumbag like me again?” Something sharp and shiny comes into contact with the warmth of his flesh but he can’t bring himself to register or counter it.

Your features flash before his eyes, glowing from within, leaving him in complete awe. Although you’re talking nothing but venom, pain is evident in the crease of your lovely brows and the way your lips are pressed into a straight line. Your eyes are deep pools of restless gold, an ocean of hopeless grief. There’s something so damn familiar about you. Felix almost finds himself resonating within your agony. He almost gasps.

In this growing light, your dark silhouette becomes full colors. 

But why aren’t you moving? He’s completely open like this.

“You!” Your voice suddenly trembles and so do your pupils. “You-You’re-”

Snapping back to his senses, Felix leaves no time for you to finish your sentence and grabs your armed limb with one hand while striking a harsh blow at your stomach with the other. You let out a hushed wince at the impact, falling to the cement ground along with the blade in your palm. He swiftly flips you over, cuffs your hands, and puts his gun at the back of your head. 

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”

“Oh, spare me, Robin,” you involuntarily snort. “I’ll be gone before you can finish reading my rights.”

He nearly sneers, “Move an inch and I’ll put a bullet through your head. Your hands are cuffed, don’t you try to make your face worse than it already is.”

“I’m an Ace, darling. It’d be insulting if a pair of handcuffs and your scrawny little ass could stop me.”

His grip on the gun grows a fraction tighter, his heart starts beating faster at the name. “You work for the House of Cards?” The name rolls off his tongue bitterly, leaving a lick of fury consuming the rational side of his brain.

House of Cards—thieves, terrorists, assassins, dealers—the largest criminal organization that has been the dread of the country for decades. Just like the playing cards, the organization consists of four main groups: Diamonds, Clubs, Hearts, and Spades. The Kings and Queens lead these groups for they’re either new or incompetent for the higher ranks. The Jacks come second in commanding and are often advisors while the Jokers remain anonymous to all as messengers. The four Aces are the most trusted by the chairman and only take orders from him themselves.

“I do,” you reply flatly, a sigh going unnoticed. “Shouldn’t you be fleeing by now upon receiving this information?”

“A murder. A gunshot right across the street. A living witness,” he grits with a timid smile. “All that and you call yourself an Ace? We’ve encountered worse than amateurs like you. You’ll be rotting behind the bars before you know it.”

“I like your optimism, officer. Genuinely, it's a blessing for you to bring us light in this time of darkness,” you turn sideways, smirk, and make sure that he sees it. “Ignorance is truly bliss sometimes.”

Something inside him snaps, water overflows the cup and he instantly grabs you by your head, burying it further into dust and cement. “I don’t know who you think you are. But you clearly don’t know what I’m capable of and the fact that I will stop at nothing to bring your boss down. I will make him face justice as you’re hearing it from the news in prison. I’ve promised. I’ve sworn.”

“Oh?” You dare to glance at him again. “I never knew cops detested my boss so much. Or is it just you? Is your hatred personal? You’ve broken a protocol from the get-go, haven’t you? Is it the reason why you even became an officer in the first place?”

Shit, Felix curses inwardly as your words stab him in the chest, twisting the tip of the blade deeper and deeper as though you’re not allowing him to breathe properly. His hands start shaking; the vibration against your nape makes you exhale, drawing yet another grin on your lips. “Tell me, who did they kill?”

To hell would he ever tell you.

“A family member?” Focus. 

“Your loved one?” Cover your ears. 

“Or a close friend, perhaps?” One wrong move. 

His shaking freezes midway, his voice comes out monotonous. “Shut up.” And you’ll die. 

“Bingo,” you feign excitement before clearing your throat. “Also, I wouldn’t pull the trigger if I were you. Because I am your best asset to get to my boss. You and I aren’t so different, trust me. After all, we both want his head.”

He yelps in surprise when you twist your back slightly, swinging your arm and elbowing his jaw while disarming him simultaneously. With a swing of your leg, he loses his balance on the knees and lands harshly on his back. 

With your knife pointed at his neck, your orbs bore onto his like you’re about to set him on fire. He gulps nervously, “What? How did you?”

“Listen up, I have a deal for you.” 

You were injured, how could you risk tearing your wound up like that? His chest rises then falls inconsistently, eyes darting to your forearm. It’s no longer bleeding. There’s no way! 

“...what are you?”

“Call me what you want. Murderer. Killer. An assassin. A monster.”

Felix squirms under your grip, spatting in aggression, “If so, you’re daydreaming if you have the audacity to believe that I will get my hands bloodied with you.”

“I’m not telling you to pick a side, officer. I’m just trying to say that I know something you don’t and you know something I don’t. If we pool our information we might actually have a good shot at capturing the bastard. If you brought me back to headquarters now, I’d escape either way and you’d get nothing from me. But if you pretend like our encounter never happens, you’ve got yourself a new partner.”

“What feud do you have with your boss so bad that you’re willing to work with a police officer like me?”

“I never considered him as my boss. I never considered the organization as a place that I belonged to. No one knows who the leader is. I’ve been tracking him down for years already.”

“...what? That’s-“

“They killed someone very important to me, too.”

five.

Chan murmurs tiredly at the knock on his door, “Who’s there?”

“Sergeant Lee’s present to report on the assassin from last night, Chief.”

“Come in.”

Chan fixes his collar as Felix closes the door shut, strides straight into his office, and collapses on the nearest armchair. Usually, he’d be complaining about the lack of sunlight in the Chief’s working space. Because like any other civil office, there are enough windows for one not to choke to death but Chan has made a habit of keeping them close. Now, he decides to open the blinds and lets the light in completely, prompting Felix to throw an arm over his eyes dramatically. 

“Shut it. The lights are killing me,” he groans aloud, forehead creasing in frustration. Focus. 

Chan says pointedly, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, “But you look like shit.”

“Of course I look like shit. You should try chasing down an Ace yourself some time. Really, it’s been a pleasant distraction from my unfinished paperwork and impotent stress,” the junior officer mumbles, dropping his arm and staring blankly at the space ahead. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” Chan sighs, sitting back. “It just makes sense, you know. Yuuki and his neighbor were moles the Yakuza planted in that filthy organization. No wonder their leader had to send one of the four Aces to finish him off.”

Felix closes his eyes for a moment, resting his arms on his knees, the muscles are still aching from last night’s incident. His fingers unconsciously reach for his bare neck, tracing the shallow cut as goosebumps bubble upon his skin. Focus. “Enough being mopey,” Chan grins and slaps something cold against his cheek, causing his friend to jolt up in surprise. “Aren’t you here to report?”

He flashes Felix a cheeky smile when the younger clenches the cold towel on his face in annoyance. Nonetheless, there’s a twinge of faint nostalgia and affection lighting up inside his stomach—the kind that comes from long-time friends. “Alright, I gotta come back to my desk before Changbin goes off about my productivity anyway.”

“Good, elaborate,” Chan whips out a pen with his crusty notebook, eyes narrowing and turning serious. 

“The Ace escaped,” Felix starts, “After checking in with Yuuki’s housekeeper, Hyunjin and I went inside the house. He handled the body while I was heading upstairs. I pursued them as soon as I heard the gunshot from across the streets. I only managed to wound them from afar, but it’s not enough to slow them down. They were too fast so I was outpaced at the end.”

The Chief raises a dark brow, eyeing the cut on his throat, “I can see that you’re injured, too. Did they shoot you? Seungmin only found a semi-auto pistol next to the second victim.”

“No… I did this to myself during the chase,” Felix touches his wound again, gulping, “They only carried a knife, of all the things.” Don’t be obvious. You can’t risk getting them to suspect you. 

“You couldn’t get close enough to see if we’re dealing with a man or a woman, right?” Chan then casts a meaningful look at the mountain of unfiled paperwork upon his desk, feigning interest in the light reading that awaits him for the rest of the day. 

“Unfortunately, no. They have a good physique, clearly well-trained and more skilled than the little fries we’d managed to throw behind the bars,” Felix shakes his head, eventually pushing himself off the black armchair. “What about the housekeeper? According to what I’m able to recall, she did, in fact, see the Ace.”

Chan wants to scream at the mention, fingers massaging his temples. “That woman is far too traumatized to even speak a word right now. She’s been giving Seungmin headaches all morning.”

“Yeah, about that...sorry, I couldn’t be more helpful,” Felix bites his lips as he can feel his own lies suffocating the space around him, filling his lungs with water and squeezing at his windpipe. He needs to get the fuck out of here. 

The Chief chuckles lightly and waves his hands, “No, no, we’re all kinda impressed, actually. No one has ever been able to propose a mere chase with them before. It’s already a miracle that you came back alive.”

His heart instantly sinks, his fists curl up unconsciously. Felix could have died. He should have died last night. But you hesitated. Why? Why would you spare him? And why were you looking at him like that? “Hey.” A hand on his shoulder snaps him out of it. “Don’t worry about it. You should take a day off today. You look unwell.”

“But-”

A figure lands soundlessly on Chan’s balcony, swiftly turning around to face Felix.

His brain stutters for a moment and his eyes take in more light than they should, still, they widen when shock riddles his senses. Every part of his body tries to catch up and his thoughts go on a dreadfully long pause. It’s you. Standing in broad daylight without anything to cover up. Distanced a few feet from his grasp. 

One shout and you’ll be cuffed in mere moments. It’d be insulting if a pair of handcuffs and your scrawny little ass could stop me. His precinct has been desperate, ramming into one dead-end after another for a single lead to House of Cards. 

Felix can turn you in right here. Right now. If you brought me back to headquarters now, I’d escape either way and you’d get nothing from me.

“That is an order, Sergeant,” Chan grins, not noticing how pale his friend has gotten in such mere moments. “You’ll collapse the moment you head out for patrol, trust me.”

“No, Chan! You don’t understand, I-”

“Do it,” you mouth, sealing his lips instantly. 

“I just didn’t get enough sleep last night. I’ll take a nap in the infirmary.” You slap on a devilish smile at his words, wiggling your phone high enough for him to see.

As soon as Felix closes the door behind him, the spike in his heartbeat finally falls with the stiff smile on his face, his breaths short and uneven. The urge to punch something is cut short when his phone vibrates timely. A message from an unknown number: “Ten PM. The waterfall in Yellow Woods. You’ve got one chance.”

six.

Felix has underestimated the cold since nightfall. His muscles ache and shiver all at the same time, momentarily yelling at him to turn around to head back to the comfort of his family’s mansion. Yet the dark Yellow Woods seems to silence time and space, only leaving him with the urge to march forward. 

He lied to Chan about your encounter, lied to Changbin so he wouldn’t have to go on his night shift, lied to Hyunjin that he’d go home and rest like his friend always told him to. Humans have been taught not to lie but deception still exists and one cannot escape its grasp. Even Felix never knew there would be a day where he’d become this desperate. Just thinking about it makes him want to vomit, utterly disgusted. 

Clutching his gun tightly, he begins walking faster into the light fog. 

“My my, look who it is.” His frantic steps come to a halt, his head snapping back immediately. “Someone was so hellbent on giving me a headshot the last time we met. What changed?”

Felix raises a brow in confusion. “What the- Didn’t you ask me to meet up at the waterfall?”

“The waterfall is the other way, you fool,” you jerk your head back, clearly unimpressed. 

“Cut me some slack, my phone was dead! Wait, how did you- were you stalking me?!”

You can’t help but stifle a chuckle; his face is priceless. “Tracking sounds more appropriate, don’t you think?”

“You-”

“You’d better pick up the pace if you want to survive this little partnership of ours, officer.”

Eventually, he complies and stumbles through the woods with you, his feet feeling like they’re being dragged across cement. During the day, Yellow Woods is alight with the serenity one yearns for at their lowest, birds chirping and leaves rustling to one united song of Mother Nature. In contrast, it is now hollow, colorless, almost empty to a sense with all this darkness around him. 

“I never said that we had a deal,” Felix says while trailing after you, cautious not to trip over any branches. 

You turn around for a meager moment, giving him that sly grin of yours. “Suppose that you do, we need a contract. Some simple protocols between comrades. What do you expect from me? Keep it simple. Excessive details bore the shit out of me.”

“First, no with-holding information. If you know something, I need to know it and vice versa. Second, no personal questions. I don’t want you in my life nor do I want me getting my hands dirty with you.”

You hum in response, “Hmm, short and sweet. But I have my own as well.”

He gulps, “Go on.”

“I don’t work with dogs. I don’t care if it’s licensed as emotional support. I won’t hesitate to shoot if you even let one do so much as breathe in the same room as me.”

“...that makes way too much sense.” So that explains why-

“What about you? Afraid of the dark?”

“I wasn’t born this morning.”

To the East lies the waterfall you’ve mentioned this morning, which you lead him down a dirt road and right behind it, straight into a small cave. There are two paths diverged that catch him by surprise but there’s nothing he can do other than taking the left side, hastily following the source of light from your phone. Your final destination unveils before his eyes as a small, underground lair.

Felix suddenly feels cold for no reason. “How do you even sleep?” He scrunches his nose while rubbing his hands together. 

“I don’t,” you say without looking at him, exhaling and shrugging off your coat. “Make yourself at home. I’ll go heat up some tea before you freeze to death.”

Not knowing what to do with himself, his eyes roll around the seemingly confined but commodious space in curiosity. Your working desk is as big as the one in the conference back at headquarters, mounted with an overwhelming amount of files. To the right, the wall is lined with weapons, target boards, and rag dolls; you seem to prefer blades over firearms. The whole place is lighted up with candles all around, giving it that eerie feeling like something straight out of an old movie. 

Still, not bad.

His careless feet drag him across the concrete, subconsciously reaching out for the files on your desk. He can’t fight the urge, he can’t resist it. Before his mind can register and his conscience can yell at him, the plastic binder is already yanked open. Experiment #180108–Y/N, it reads. “What the hell… Enhanced strength and agility… Instant self-healing… Metamorphosis? Is this what they’ve been doing under our noses all this time?”

“No, only my parents.” Your voice snaps him out of it, prompting him to drop the files. “Your office was giving me anxiety, by the way. Thank god for home sweet home.”

“What the hell were you doing in my-“ A dagger flies past his head, missing him by a strand of hair and ending up embedding itself on the bull’s eye of a nearby target. “Daughter of a bastard,” he breathes out in disbelief, eyes boring holes on you. “What kind of tea was that?!”

“Lee Felix. Only son of the Prime Minister. Ranked Sergeant at the eighth precinct, Seoul P.D. The precious heir to one of the five great families.” Words leave you. You only stare into those bright, brown eyes burning with anger, his heart almost falling silent. “Gosh, you’ve got quite the profile. Shouldn’t you be worried about the image of your family instead of shaking hands with the devil like this?”

Felix clenches his jaw, everything is slow and warbled as he looks down, shaking violently. “And yet you still thought I’d be crazy enough to make a deal with an Ace?”

“You’re not crazy,” you sigh, grinning internally. “Just extremely desperate-“

“I am not desperate!” A lie spats out, leaving him with a bitter aftertaste. “I have no reason to be.” Focus.

A mocking shrug. “Right, you’re not desperate. You just followed me all the way here without taking out your gun or rambling on with your boring death threats. Like a little, perfect pet. Exactly what I needed.” 

“Death threats don’t work on monsters,” he croaks, fists balled and eyes wide. Even so, the way you gaze darken still goes unnoticed. “I’ve seen your kind kill anyone without hesitation. Getting blood on your hands without even blinking. You, all of you, aren’t humans anymore. You’re all a complete write-off of a species.”

Felix lifts his head, pupils trembling at the sight in front of him. For a moment there, you look sad and broken. Raw, naked, and vulnerable like the rest of humanity. It makes him ponder, how can humans be so weak yet so cruel at the same time?

“...why? Why are you doing this?” he inquires shakily, head racing with a thousand thoughts. “I don’t understand. Actually, there’s a lot that I don’t understand about you.” No! Focus, you idiot!

“You don’t have to.” Finally, you speak after the long dread of silence, combing a hand through your hair tiredly. “You know. It’s funny how the same thing happened to us. And now look at where we ended up individually.”

His brain pauses and chokes up. “What are you saying?” Cover your ears. Do not be misled!

You look away, simply knowing that you won’t be able to hold it in if you’re making eye contact. “I know you’re not the rightful heir of the Lees. You weren’t part of the bloodline in the first place. You’re simply a replacement. A second option. Nothing but an afterthought-“ 

“No! Shut up! Just shut u-“ Cover your ears. Do not trust anyone!

“—the real heir supposedly went missing during the Eiji Station tragedy where my organization ordered a bombing fifteen years ago. It’s been over a decade and they’ve already concluded his death even though a body was never found. Am I right, officer?”

Choose the wrong path. 

Felix buries his face into the palms of his hands as streaks of silvery tears burn his cheek. His exhausted shoulders shake in each rake of emotion through his frame, the fire of anger and despair boils past the seams he can no longer hold together. With his knees weak, he can only sob and drops down on his knees, screaming with all his might. 

And you’ll die. 

But even you, the devil itself, can’t save the man who’s drowning himself in his own tears of hell. 

“Welcome to the team. The name is Y/N,” you offer him a hand, blankly eyeing his quivering figure. He finally picks himself up with difficulties, eyes glowing with tears and fury. After a split moment of hesitation, his hand reaches for yours, firmly clasped and sealing your deal. 

Because he’s falling down the same bottomless abyss with you. 

Because you both couldn’t save him. You couldn’t save Minho. 

epilogue.

__ fifteen years ago

“Hey, Minho, you’re really good at playing the piano. Are you gonna be a musician?”

“Hmm, I do like music. But I’d rather become a police officer. 

“Why? Didn’t you say that you like music?”

“I’ll become anything for my mother.” 

“Then, I’ll be a doctor when I grow up! And we can save people together.”

“Okay. It’s a promise, Lix.”