#hali reach

[halo-adicto]

#halo #halo 4 #master chief #halo 2 #halo 3 #halo ce #spartan #unsc #halo 3 odst #spartan ii #jorge 052 #reach #hali reach #xbox

[starrysnowdrop]

Whispers falling silently drift on the wind,

But I hear you—

Our journey, now a memory fading from sight,

But I see you—

#ffxiv gpose #ffxiv endwalker #ultima thule #aymeric de borel #ser aymeric #aymeric x wol #wol x aymeric #female lalafell #hali aloke #oc: drops of jupiter #hali x aymeric #ship: hold me closer #I got inspired by the ending of FFX #if you know you know #I imagine that Aymeric’s prayers reach Hali in Ultima Thule and she swears that she can feel his arms around her #letting her know that he is with her #my heart 🥹

[sailoryooons]

Can I just say that the most frustrating experience I have been having as a writer is there is not enough time to write the things that I want, and thus results in me never getting to projects I've talked about and it's like both... frustrating and guilt-inducing. I wish I had so much more time to write all of these things I've thought about ugh

#just hali things #sorry i'm being a little angst on main i'm going through my wips and triyng to figure out how i can rationally move forward with my project #there are so many things i've talked about doing that feel... very out of reach

[messers-moony]

Sunshine | D.G

Pairing: Dick Grayson X Fem!Reader

Summary: The caregiver becomes the care receiver.

Word Count: 2.0K

A/N: First time writing DC, hopefully this doesn’t suck.

If anyone took a look at him, they’d see nothing but a sun. The hot, blazing, and bright sun. There wasn’t a day that its light was blocked; despite the clouds coming to block the light, it still shined through, proving everyone wrong. It made her head tilt.

She was no master detective, but she wasn’t stupid either. He smiled with both sides of his mouth, never favoring one another. He held his head up high and shoulders perfectly rolled back. Even at meal times, he had perfect dining etiquette. She looked around the dinner table and saw the rest of his siblings eating comfortably.

Then it started getting foggier. His hair was frizzier than usual. His eyes were tinted red just the slightest bit. He was heavy on his feet. She sat in the cave with Tim. It was always cold and chilly in the cave: the dark grey walls and the occasional chirps of the bats above. The floor was smooth and freezing, but after sitting on it for several hours, she had gotten used to it.

Tim had files and papers scattered throughout the floor. They used the floor like a corkboard and started connecting cases. But she kept him in sight from the corner of her eye. Bruce had placed different types of acrobatic equipment in the cave for him, and he used it. She watched him continue to flip on the bars.

“Y/n?” A voice called, “Hello? Are you listening?”

She shook out of her daydream, “Yes, sorry.”

“I think that scarecrow must be involved?”

“That can’t be, though, he’s in Arkham, and Commissioner Gordon said that these victims appeared to be sprayed with Jokers Venom.”

“Yes, but reading through the police reports and witness statements, it says they all heard intense screaming right before crazed laughter.”

Y/n ran a hand down her face, “Fuck, so are we looking for a mixture of Fear Toxin and Joker Venom?”

“It appears so.”

“Why can’t Gotham just be normal.” Tim chuckled at her distress, “I wish I-“

A thud in the distance cut her off. Suddenly she realized that Dick was no longer in her peripheral vision. Y/n looked up to see him struggling to stand up and using one of the bars as support to help him stand. Her heart was racing, and her eyes narrowed. His body was sweaty, and his hair was sticking to his forehead.

“You okay, Dick?”

He looked up hazily, “I’m fine, Tim. Just slipped, is all.”

“He never slips.” Y/n whispered.

“Maybe he’s just tired?” Tim shrugged.

Y/n couldn’t stop staring. His body was lethargic and moving slower than usual. She thought he would reach for the bars again, but he didn’t. Instead, he collapsed on the floor, sitting crisscrossed. It confused her. If he didn’t get it the first time, he would do it until he could do it seamlessly. She could remember his persistence and determination like it was yesterday they were sitting in Haly’s Circus. He begged her to teach him to walk the tightrope but never got it.

“Do you think if I got a sample of the gas, you could have it tested?”

“Possibly, but you’d have to be extremely careful.“

Tim hummed, “I’ll see what I can do. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

She stood from her place on the floor and walked to the man lying on the cold floor, covered in sweat. As she approached, she could hear his breathing more clearly. He was panting heavily, and he hadn’t even done much. Y/n got next to him and realized his eyes were closed. She knelt beside his ribs and could feel the heat radiating off his body. Her hand went gently to his left cheek.

“Dick,” He didn’t move, “Dick, are you okay?”

His body was unresponsive, “Love, come on, wake up.”

She felt frantic, and her hand gently slapped his cheek, “Grayson, come on. I know you’re in there. You need to wake up.”

Y/n could hear a faint gurgling noise, and her body kicked into motion, “Tim! Tim! Get me a garbage can, quick!”

Her hands went under his arms and helped him sit upright. She felt the plastic can move to her left and placed his head over it. Her right hand was on his sweat-soaked back, rubbing up and down. His body gasped awake and threw up into the garbage can. Tim sat by her side, concerned and confused. Dick was gasping for air. His left hand was searching for something to grasp.

It quickly found her other hand and squeezed tightly, “It’s alright, I’m right here. You’re doing great.”

Dick sat over the trash can, heaving. His breaths came quick, and his heart palpitating rapidly. He couldn’t hear anything. It was all ringing, and his vision seemed blurry. He recognized the hand in his and the hand on his back. It was the same hands that held him at night, the ones who kept him safe, the ones that kept him steady. He felt something cold on his face. His mouth was being wiped with a washcloth, and his cheeks.

It had all felt so real. It didn’t make sense. He was fine this past week. Except for maybe hearing things that weren’t there or seeing shadows of people no longer living. He remembered sitting in bed while she was at the desk in their shared bedroom. Light music traveled through the room, and he heard it. It was the music that played at the circus. He had asked her if she was playing it, and Y/n shook her head. He didn’t see her turning back to her desk and biting her lip.

They came in spurts. Sometimes it took place over a day or a week, at the worst times, over a month. But nothing would ever make sense until after it occurred. He’d hear the circus music, see shadows of his parents, hear their laughter, see the bright lights. Those bright lights always shined just like the sunlight. He could always feel their radiated warmth, and he shined in it. He thrived in their white led bulbs.

Slowly he was coming back to earth. There were no big bright lights here. It was dark, and the bat computer radiated a blue light throughout the cave. The floor was cold beneath him, and his body shivered. Something soft was placed over his body, and he relished in the warmth. The hands were still on his body. He was thankful. It was keeping him on earth.

Y/n looked into his eyes to see him slowly returning to his senses. Tim was pacing beside them, antsy as always. She watched Dick slowly push the garbage can away from his face. She smiled, “Welcome back to the land of the living, my love.”

Dick gave her a faint smile before looking at his anxious younger brother, “Tim if you don’t stop pacing, I might throw up again.”

“I’m worried!” He exclaimed; Dick furrowed his eyebrows, “I’ve never seen you like that! You’ve never fallen from the bars, ever.”

His body was still coming down from his high, and he swayed. Y/n pulled his body closer to hers, and Dick’s head rested on her chest. His hand was still holding hers tightly. The scent of her perfume easing the process back to the world. He felt terrible for getting sweat all over her clean clothes. She had just done laundry, and Dick felt like a burden. He tried to lift his head, but she didn’t give. He was slightly relieved.

“I’m alright, Tim,” Dick rasped, “No big deal. It happens sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Tim stopped, “What do you mean? Is this a frequent thing? Is this a symptom of something?”

Y/n could hear Tim mumbling under his breath about symptoms of certain conditions because if there was anything Tim knew, it was facts. She smiled at his concern. Dick was still trying to lift his head to get his sweaty hair away from her shirt. Eventually, she let him move his head to her shoulder. The tips of his black hair tickled her neck.

“Tim,” Dicks cheeks were rosy, and his lips were curled in a small smile, “Sit.”

Tim grumbled and sat in front of them. Dick reached his clammy hand out, and Tim took it in his without a second thought. Tim’s hands were always cold and dry, and Dick smiled more at the familiarity, “You know what PTSD is, right?”

“Mhm,” Tim hummed, “It’s a post-traumatic stress disorder. Most of us in this house have it. We wouldn’t have been adopted without some form of it.”

Dick chuckled, “That’s all it is, Tim.”

He didn’t look amused, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ve never been like this before, so it just randomly happens one day?” Tim rambled, “I mean, you’ve never even stumbled before, not anywhere. We’ve been to Haly’s Circus since everything happened multiple times.”

“Do you know why we do that?”

“Because you and Y/n grew up there, and you want us to see where you grew up?”

Y/n kissed Dicks temple, “You are right. But we also go so Dick can work through his memories of the Circus.”

“I’m not scared of the circus by any means.” Dick clarified, “I get flashbacks of being on that trapeze, of hearing my mother screaming for me and watching my father try to break her fall.”

Tim squeezes Dick’s hand tighter, “I didn’t know. How could we have not noticed.”

“Tim, it isn’t your fault,”

“No, no.” Tim’s hand was ripped from Dick’s grasp, “I should’ve noticed. I should’ve known. I was there that night and every night afterward.”

Dick stood up unsteadily. Y/n jumped up to help support him, and he walked to Tim. His arms went around the younger boy tightly. He had no choice but to place his head under Dick’s chin and hold him tightly. Tim pulled away, “I guess I never realized that the person holding us all together could also have flaws.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want you guys to see it.” Dick said, “I hide it so you guys don’t see that side of me. I’m the golden boy remember? The sunshine of the Wayne household. I got a reputation to uphold.”

Tim latched back onto Dick, holding him tighter than ever, “Don’t ever risk your mental health for reputation.”

Dick snorts, “Okay, Mr ‘I haven’t slept in four days, and I need to get this report done, or Bruce might disown me.’”

Y/n chuckled, and Tim pulled back to glare, “That’s my job, not yours.”

“I love you, baby bird.”

“I love you too.”

It didn’t take long for Dick’s accident to travel throughout the house. Y/n had tried to keep it under wraps for Dick’s sake, but Tim didn’t have it. Dick just shrugged his shoulders. They ended up in the living room of the manor, where boxes of candy were opened and left everywhere. Popcorn was thrown across the room, and Y/n swore she could hear Alfred sighing somewhere.

She and Dick were situated on a two-person couch. His head was on her lap, and his legs were hanging off the armrest. Jason and Tim sat on the other two-person couch. While Steph, Cass, Damian, and Duke sat on the much longer couch between them. A movie was playing on the television, but no one was watching. They were all laughing and talking.

Y/n’s hands ran through Dick’s black hair, and his eyes opened. She saw the sky in them, the beautiful crystal clear sky. They shined with kindness and love. The love for her, for his family, for his life. They shined with hope for his city, for his future wife, and for the people in Gotham and Blüdhaven. His smile was blinding, and he couldn’t have been happier than in her arms with his family of birds and bats.

“So, is this what it feels like to be taken care of?”

“Yes, lovebird,” She smiled softly, “It is.”

#dick Grayson #dick Grayson x reader #dick Grayson x you #dick Grayson x y/n #reader insert #Nightwing x reader #Nightwing x you #Nightwing x y/n #Batman #dc #dcu #dc universe #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc comics #comic #superhero #Gotham #Gotham city

[umbrellacam]

Reading A Lonely Place of Dying is so interesting in so many ways, but the question I'm still rotating in my mind is about Dick, and specifically why he ends up smiling and soft-advocating for Tim to be Bruce's Robin, after he had his morality crisis over young heroes with Jason's death.

So when he finds out about Jason's death, Dick feels guilty over giving Jason his Robin costume and not being there when he died:

New Teen Titans #55

To the extent that, later in the same issue, he unilaterally fires 15-year-old Danny Chase from the Titans, over Donna and Kory's objections, citing what happened to Jason. He even expresses doubt over his own young age when he became Robin, wondering whether that was a mistake:

New Teen Titans #55

However, when Dick visits Bruce in Gotham to both express his condolences over Jason's death and also confront him over not telling Dick about it, he explicitly rejects Bruce's implication of blame:

New Teen Titans #55

And later, when the Gargoyle is mentally torturing him over his past failures to the Titans, to Bruce, and Jason, Dick breaks through his self-blame issues and firmly asserts that there was nothing he could have done to prevent Jason's death.

Secret Origins (Vol. 2) #3

But understanding his lack of blame logically isn't the same as being totally past it, as it's part of Dick's larger cycle of guilt, as he acknowledges to his therapist:

The New Titans #57

So how does Dick get from here, still wrestling with guilt and feeling ambivalent about the idea of young heroes as a whole, to the end of A Lonely Place of Dying, where he smiles and basically urges Bruce to give Tim a chance to become Robin?

Like, yes, Dick then spends the entirety of Batman: Year Three worried about Bruce's tenuous mental state after Jason's death, reaching out to him in the midst of Batman's reckless, violent spiral, trying to both express care and to call his mentor and hero back to his foundations of crime-fighting through careful detective work, not through brutality - and getting rejected by Bruce over and over. Even while being proud of Dick's methods and the hero he's grown into, Bruce just can't seem to pull himself out of his own morass of self-destruction. Dick eventually has to leave him to it, though he clearly hasn't stopped worrying about Bruce by the start of ALPoD.

Yes, Tim impresses Dick multiple times over the course of ALPoD. First at the circus with his reflexes and his quick thinking (apparently almost as much as he irritates and baffles Dick with his stubborn evasiveness and pushy presumption, lol this total gremlin). Then at Wayne Manor when Tim goes through his deduction of Batman's and Robin's identities, although this one is more an implication through Dick's decision to show Tim the Cave immediately afterward, and Alfred's words to Tim.

Batman #441

And yet Alfred's sentiment here is immediately contradicted when Tim insistently pushes the Robin costume at Dick, and Dick gets pissed off, saying that, "When Jason died, he took Robin with him. And no matter how much anybody may want it - you can't bring back the dead."

The New Titans #61

How does Dick go from this to accepting Tim as the new potential Robin all of two issues later!! This boy's emotions are so mixed up, lol.

I feel like while Dick is clearly angered by Tim's presumptions, kind of baffled and creeped-out by the sort of parasocial fixation Tim has on both Bruce/Batman and Dick/Robin, below the surface he's also genuinely absorbing Tim's driving love and care for them both. Like, he's way too ticked off to show it or even think of it consciously at the moment - and it's hard to process!! despite that day at Haly's Circus tying them together a decade ago, this kid is a rando, it's out of nowhere, it's wild to be confronted with!! - but on some level he has to be touched by Tim's care and passion for their legacy. He wouldn't make his heel-turn later and smile at Tim so approvingly otherwise.

Like, Dick wants Bruce to have a partner that cares for him that much, that forces him to care for himself in a way that he clearly hasn't been since Jason's death. And Dick is both afraid and aware that he can't fill that role anymore - that he can try to stand beside Batman as Nightwing and support him that way, but he can't stand behind Bruce in his protective shadow again, can't cramp himself back into Robin.

So even as Dick is making line-faces at this bizarre kid pushing himself at them, talking about Jason and Dick and Bruce and what Batman needs like he knows better than Dick, UGH… Dick is also considering… is maybe moved a bit by that star-bright conviction and overflowing love in the face of all the doubts that seem to plague both Bruce and Dick lately… is maybe hoping, seeing a possible light in the dark. Not on a conscious level, perhaps, but it's maybe churning below the surface with everything else Dick is thinking about.

Anyway, Dick still tracks Batman down and tries being a supportive partner as Nightwing, even going "I'm here. Always," when Batman finally brings himself to admit that he needs help. Only to IMMEDIATELY run face-first into Bruce's control issues and post-Jason-disregarding-orders trauma - "You're not with the Titans now. If you want to be with me, you follow my orders. Now do as I say." (The New Titans #61) Oof, instant I'm-NIGHTWING-not-ROBIN friction, but Dick swallows it for now.

Then Two-Face blows up a building on top of both of them, and Tim (and Alfred!) have to rescue them both. By the time that they've been dug out, Alfred and Dick are both praising Tim's potential to a very baffled and alarmed, verging on angry, Batman lol. Dick and Alfred then grin at each other while young Tim struggles against his intimidation and argues the tremendously (and understandably!) reluctant Batman to a standstill.

Batman #442

As they drive away afterward (Bruce, Dick and Tim in the Batmobile to track down Two-Face - using the tracker Tim planted on him, good job Timmy!! - and Alfred toward home in a separate car), we get the following thought-bubbles:

Bruce: Even if he's right, I don't want another partner. Dick: Bruce, for once, think with your heart, not with cold logic. Tim: He doesn't want me, but he hasn't said no. So just do your best… Alfred: …One way or another, the rest will take care of itself.

Batman #442

"Think with your heart, not with cold logic" - so does Dick's line here mean that this is what he himself is doing at this point? Setting aside his logic, his fears and reservations about young heroes, about Jason's death, about putting another young boy in the Robin costume - because Tim joining them, maybe becoming Bruce's new partner, feels right? Because everything that Tim has shown of himself so far means the kid deserves a chance, at least? Because Bruce's caution after Jason's death would mean that he'll make sure to 'do it right this time'? Because Tim's passion and conviction could be what Batman needs, and - maybe as much if not more than that - could be something that deserves to be nurtured into something great, despite Dick's own (and Bruce's) fears?

Because Dick has to be wrestling with and at least quelling (if not fully letting go of) his fears about the risks to young heroes in these issues, it doesn't make sense for him to be okay with Tim as Robin otherwise. And it can't all be about what use Tim could be to Bruce - the leash he could put on Batman's out of control behavior. That's far too selfish and manipulative as a sole motive for Dick Grayson; especially after Jason, he wouldn't encourage a kid to jump into the meat-grinder of vigilantism solely to save Bruce or preserve the legacy of Batman & Robin.

I feel like Dick has to also be seeing something in Tim here, his potential, his determination, the good that he can and wants desperately to do, that Dick has to respect, has to think deserves a shot. When Alfred goes, "The boy should be a politician!" and Dick replies, "He'd do more good with Bruce," (Batman #442; panels above), it does feel like he's thinking of the difference Tim himself could make in the world. Dick has to be remembering why he himself could not be put off from the vigilante life when he was even younger than Tim, why Jason also went out there and did his best every night. To help people, in a way that mattered.

Anyway, Tim also puts in a good showing when they confront Two-Face, despite giving Bruce a near heart-attack over this strange unfamiliar boy wearing his son's uniform when Tim briefly appears to have been crushed - only for him to have saved himself and warned Batman and Nightwing of danger through his quick thinking.

Afterward, Alfred and Dick both advocate for Tim, so Dick is clearly pulling for Tim to be given a chance. Dick's smile here, my heart.

Batman #442

I still wish they'd been a little more explicit with the turn of Dick's mindset here, but at the same time I guess it's pretty effective as show-not-tell!

All in all, I feel like ALPoD was very effective storytelling, well done Marv, hugely enjoyable read, and I can't wait to read more.

#I had to reconstruct this entire post from scratch after Tumblr ate the whole fucking thing GRAHHHH 👿👿👿 #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Dick and Tim #Bruce and Dick #Bruce and Tim #Dick and Jason #Bruce and Jason #Dick Grayson meta #Tim Drake meta #this wasn't really supposed to be meta so much as me trying to think through Dick's emotional through-line but eh! #those are the tags I have lol #dcu #DC Comics panels #Cam reads comics #Batman #Batman and Robin #Nightwing #A Lonely Place of Dying #Cam posts #Cam writes

[her-favorite]

RETURN; J. VALESKA

(HUSBAND)!JEROME VALESKA X F!WIFE!READER

WARNINGS: i mean it’s jerome so

WC: 3342

A/N: requested! i really hope you like it!! sorry if i got a little carried away in the beginning, i tend to start one topic and just dont stop 😭 also can we talk about how hot his hand looks in that gif omfg.

SUMMARY: You’ve spent your whole life with Jerome Valeska. When the both of you started a life of crime, he managed to fall dead in Theo Galavan’s hand. It was hard without him, but having your husband back in your arms was all that mattered.

-

It’s been over a year since Jerome died.

For over a year you’ve spent inside your house collecting, smelling, crying over his belongings that were still left with you. You both owned the house, or rather, Jerome threatened the actual owner to give it to you both, putting a gun to the man’s head. Obviously, the owner agreed, his body shaking as he watched Jerome’s wicked smile spread across his pale cheeks.

You and Jerome grew up together. It started when you had joined Haly’s Circus and you managed to catch his troublesome eye as he tended to watch you every now and then. You kept to yourself for awhile when you were younger since it was the first time traveling with the drama-filled Circus.

After a couple years at that hellhole (as Jerome liked to call it), you both grew close. You managed to bring out a side to him that he didn’t even know existed. Which brings you to the time that Jerome had been watching you from his trailer. It was around a year before you both traveled to Gotham and you grew more accustomed to the circus living.

The circus troupe had stopped somewhere that you couldn’t remember when you think about this memory, but the thought felt embedded in your mind. The exasperating ginger was sitting out in front of his parked trailer that he shared with his whore of a mother. Just a few years before, his pathetic excuse of a brother had fled, but Jerome didn’t want to think about that. He was sipping on some lemonade that he had stole from a stand further into the attraction, occasionally biting down onto the straw. His eyes followed the way you walked; your fast legs making their away across the grounds and towards someone’s trailer. You were visibly irritated by something, your body language and the stern expression on your face told him everything he needed to know.

At first, he was agitated. What were you doing going to someone else’s trailer? Why was his girl meeting up with someone else other than him? His face showed anger as he watched you from a distance. Your hand reached up and knocked repeatedly on the person’s door, managing to hurt your knuckles in the process. Once Jerome saw the man that opened the door, he felt his body erupt with rage. Your boyfriend.

Obviously, Jerome never liked the asshole. Maybe it was his clouded judgement that told him that you belonged to him and that you were only made to be with him. Or maybe it was because your boyfriend was an asshole. He never treated you with respect and he always tried to steer you away from Jerome. The ginger was more than displeased with the persistent actions of the other man. The amount of nagging and abuse he got from his mother already started the murderous thoughts that occupied his mind, and your shitty boyfriend didn’t help his tenacious thoughts.

At that point, all Jerome could hear were mumbles. He was far enough away to the point where you wouldn’t be able to see him, but close enough for him to see you. All he could make out was your backside as you faced your boyfriend’s trailer, seeming to release your pent up frustrations on the other man. It didn’t seem to be going well as your hands shoved him, the man tripping backwards slightly. Jerome immediately knew that it was your boyfriend’s fault. It always was.

An animated gasp left Jerome’s lips as he, not only saw, but heard the slap you left on the man. The loud sound of your palm smacking the guy’s face echoed in the cool air. Jerome put his fist over his mouth to muffle his laugh once he saw your boyfriend’s face. He was furious, to say the least.

Before he could get his hands on you, Jerome just couldn’t help himself. He quickly got up from his sitting position and jogged his way over to you. Upon hearing footsteps, you looked to your side to be met with your best friend. Or, rather crush. But that’s not something the ginger had to know.

“Heya, guys! What’s going on?” A smug smirk was cemented on Jerome’s face as he looked from you to your boyfriend. He had to stop the laugh that bubbled up in his throat when he saw the other man get even angrier. Jerome always knew how to push people’s buttons.

“This asshole cheated on me.” Your words were said with pure venom as you reached forward and pushed the man standing in front of you again. The glee filled expression on the taller man’s face quickly fell in response to your answer. His jaw tightened as he looked over at your boyfriend, well, ex. When the other man finally tore his eyes away from your angered ones, he saw the dangerous look inside Jerome’s. He was intimidated by the ginger. At first, it was because of how close the two of you were. That was until he heard the way he talked about certain people; the constant need to have your attention and the way he talked to himself about silent promises that he wanted to fulfill. Jerome was dangerous and the man knew that.

“What?” Was the only thing that left Jerome’s lips. He was frozen in his spot before quickly taking a step forward and wrapping his hand around the frightened man’s throat. As if on instinct, Jerome threw the man against the front of his trailer, his hand tightening around the sensitive structure. Threatening words and swears left the gingers lips, his grin widening as he saw the man cower underneath his hold. “If you ever lay a hand on her again,” He leans closer, his green eyes now filled black. His voice was coated with pure malice as he talked, “I will kill you.” Not blinking with a dead stare, Jerome uttered the final words to the man and then finally let go. Your ex fell to the ground, grasping his throat and took deep, fast breaths as he tries to regain his oxygen.

As Jerome takes a step back, away from the other man, he looks over at you. The look you had in your eye was different, something he’s never seen before. His grimace switched into a smile as he made his way over towards you.

“Y’know you’re my girl, right?” He whispers as he stands over you, his breath hot against your lips. Without speaking, you nod your head in response. “Good.” He smiles and swipes his thumb over your cheek. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing your hand and walking away from the scene. “Let’s get some cotton candy! I’ve been cravin’ it all day!” And just like that, Jerome was back to normal.

Some people would call the both of you crazy, at least that’s the word on the street. When Jerome finally went through with his plan about killing his mother, he was sent to Arkham Asylum. To your surprise, you weren’t. No one saw you as an accomplice to the insane ginger’s actions, which made the wait for your lover to break out from the old building dreadful.

As time passed and you sat on a hill that captured the sunset beautifully, you weren’t expecting to hear ruffling in the grass behind you. Whipping your head back to see who it was, a gasp left your lips and you immediately landed on your feet.

“Knew you’d be here, doll. This was our spot, after all.” Jerome grinned his crazy smile. He laughed loudly as he felt you run into his arms, squeezing him against you tight. “Y’know, all that time in the looney bin really got me thinkin’.” He starts off. You break away from the hug and look up at him as his hands settle on your hips. “I’m not making a whole speech, y’know I’m not one for words.” He smiles and winks, before continuing. “I wanna marry ya, Y/N.” The statement caught you off guard as your eyes widen and your lips part in disbelief. “I want’cha as my wife, doll. It’s been nagging at me since I got thrown into that funny farm. And blah, blah, blah, here I am!” He throws his arms out wide, before laughing. He knew you were going to say yes, you’ve never denied him before.

Immediately accepting his proposal, you gripped him so tight in a hug that he felt all of the new things he had to adjust to with Galavan and the Maniax just lift off of his shoulders. All he needed was you. That was all that ever truly mattered to him.

Days passed by since the both of you got married (a small ceremony with a persistent Barbara Kean that wanted to officiant the wedding and random, horrified bystanders being held at gunpoint as you both stood on the both of your hill together). It was sweet and nice; something that wasn’t really common anymore. It felt good to get a break from the chaos that Theo had you both commencing around the city. At least for you, everyone knows that Jerome can’t sit still without causing a little bit of trouble.

It was finally the night of the Gala and Jerome was more than ecstatic to be a ‘magician’. He paraded around your shared bedroom, loudly practicing new tricks. The ginger searched for your approval once he finished one and grinned wide as he saw you clap for him. Maybe it was because of the lack of attention he got growing up, but Jerome loved having you praise him. It was a new feeling; it made him feel warm inside. But no one needed to know that; not even Jerome liked to admit it.

Theo had chose you to be his assistant in the show, saying that your chemistry would be good and make it more believable. You had immediately agreed, wanting to always be by your ginger’s side.

Later that night, the both of you stood behind the curtain and waited for the cue. His green eyes searched over your body several times, ogling the way you looked in the tight pink clothes. When you jokingly called him out on it, he gave you a wink and said, “Don’t worry, doll, as soon as this is over, we’ll make some magic of our own.” He cackled with volume, only quieting down when you put a hand over his mouth. The last thing either of you wanted was to be caught too soon.

Once the both of you made it on stage, the plan was going perfectly. Everything went accordingly and you and Jerome were having the time of your lives. Finally, when your disguises were off and Jerome had thrown a knife into the deputy mayor’s chest, the sound of gunshots filled the vast room and screams were heard everywhere. You could hear Jerome’s laugh clear as day as he watched everyone shriek in fear.

Eventually talking on the phone with Detective Jim Gordon, Jerome managed to get under the man’s skin. Jim’s girlfriend was laying on the wheel as you watched your husband laugh into the phone and then straighten back up.

“I think that went well.” Jerome smiles and looks back over at you. A grin graces your features as you nod, silently agreeing with him. With a quick appearance from Theo Galavan, it wasn’t a hard decision to hit him in the head with the hammer that was conveniently sitting there. As more unfolded and Jerome called out for the one and only Bruce Wayne, the air seemed to tense up. When he finally got his hands on him, he held a threatening knife to the younger kid’s throat. You knew better than to disrupt Jerome when he had his mind set on something, so you watched him and maybe if you weren’t too focused on your husband’s actions, you could’ve stopped it.

The sight of a knife stabbing into Jerome’s throat made your entire body feel like it was on ice. Goosebumps filled your skin and a scream left your throat without you realizing. He fell to the floor with Theo still sticking the blade into him as Jerome’s blood gushed out of his mouth, dribbling up near his eye. The sight still haunts you to this day.

When Galavan finally stepped away from the other man, your knees buckled and your hands clutched Jerome’s suit. You begged and pleaded with him, with anything, that he wasn’t dead; that this was just a nightmare. A really horrible nightmare.

It wasn’t.

You watched him take his last breath as his eyes focused on yours. You convinced yourself that he wanted you to be the last thing he saw before he died; and you were left hoping that thought was true. His gold band on his left ring finger seemed to shine brighter than before as it reminded you that you were now a widow. No way in hell could you ever be with someone else when you were swooned by Jerome Valeska.

“I love you.” His last words were tight and quiet and barely left his throat, but they were crystal clear in your ears. It almost felt like you were the one being stabbed as his eyes lost their light and his body relaxed against the cold stage, his warm blood still pouring from his lips. You sobbed and screamed as your hands clutched his clothes. He wasn’t dead, he was just joking, like he always does. It was a ploy to get the GCPD out of here, right? It wasn’t real, it was just Jerome playing a sick, sick joke, like always. You would’ve done anything to be correct.

Before the police could catch you, you quickly fled the scene once people started to move again. You ran as far as you could, not stopping at the constant sirens crowding the night air. You knew Jerome wouldn’t want you to stay there and be caught; he wanted to be free, that’s what he stood for.

Now, this is where you were: sitting in your once shared house, curling up on the couch while you twirled the larger ring on your right finger. You had accomplished stealing your husband’s ring before you ran that night and you haven’t took it off since, even if the ring was too big.

It felt like a never ending cycle as you twisted the ring on your finger, your eyes captivated by the golden band. It meant more to you now. It didn’t just hold memories of the two of you, but it felt like a silent promise of you never letting go of him. Not that you ever could. Jerome felt like he was stitched into your heart, never leaving unless someone reached in and tore him from you. Even then, you knew you wouldn’t be able to let him go.

Your body straightened up when you heard a noise come from the entrance of your house. Ever since you ran from the sight where your husband was killed, you were off grid to anyone else in Gotham. No one knew where you lived, especially the GCPD or the other villains that roamed around now. To others, you weren’t a threat anymore. You never realized how much you depended on the ginger until he was gone.

“Knew you’d be here. Wow, I got two for two!” A loud voice and a cackle was heard behind you as your body flinched. You felt frozen in your spot as your head whipped back and your eyes met his. His eyes. Jerome’s. “I thought you’d be happy to see me, doll. Where’s my hug and the “oh my god, J, I missed you so much!’” Jerome wraps his arms around himself in a hug and then laughs when he’s done talking. “I’m guessin’ you haven’t seen my show?” Before he could point to the tv or even finish his sentence, your body bolted up from the couch and threw yourself at him.

“You’re here,” Your voice was breathless as your words were said with disbelief. You felt the vibration against your cheek before you heard the laugh that left him. His arms wound around your shoulders tightly, sighing as he felt your touch again.

“Yeah, toots. First thing that came to the ol’ noggin’ was to see my girl.” His right hand reached up to cup the back of your head and pull gently on your hair to make you look up at him. “Still as gorgeous as the last time I saw ya." Jerome smiles. You were finally snapped out of your daze once you took a good look at his face. Staples littered his skin, red circles hovered around his eyes, his skin was stretched and tight, and his grin was even more devilish as his smile was pulled to each side, making him look more intimidating.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” His voice grew defensive as he noticed the way your eyes stuck on different parts of his skin. On the way to the both your house, Jerome would’ve rather went through death again than think of you not loving him anymore. He thought that maybe you outgrew him, that maybe he was just a terrible phase in your life and now that he was gone you could do whatever you wanted. He never really considered the word ‘insecure’ before, until he saw the way his face was restructured now. It was weird and gross it even made Jerome upset. He couldn’t bare the possibility that you could feel the same.

“Nothing.” You responded quickly. Your hands moved away from his waist and slowly slid to his neck, not wanting to touch the sensitive staples. “You just look really good for a man that just came back from the dead.” You said, a small smile curling at your lips. Jerome’s neurotic expression switched to a grin at your words, his pearly white teeth showing.

“Good answer.” He mutters before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. The hand that was in your hair tightened slightly as he deepened the kiss. It was an odd feeling; the chapped skin on his lips set a weird texture against yours and the stretched out smile made it somewhat difficult to kiss him, but you weren’t letting anything stop you from kissing your husband.

Once you broke away from the kiss, you took the opposite ring off your finger and held his left hand. His green eyes focused on yours before looking down and watching you push his wedding ring on his ring finger. “Aw, you kept it, gorgeous?” He cooed and his smile became wider as he talked. His thumb rotated the ring on his finger as he felt his body warm up at the thought of you wearing it while he was gone.

“Of course. Everything that you had I still kept.” You answer, moving your hands back on his chest. He had a police uniform on as the leather jacket hugged his arms. He always managed to look good in anything.

“Good, doll. I’m glad.” His right hand moved over to cup the side of your neck as his thumb rubbed gently against your cheekbone. His already made smile widened as his lips curled up into a grin. He leaned down and pecked your lips once, before whispering, “I told ya we would have some fun the last time I saw ya, gorgeous. And I intend to fulfill that promise.” He laughs and leans back down to kiss you with enough passion that could’ve made you melt.

Having Jerome back with you was like a fresh of cold air in a warm room. Having your husband back with you made you feel like you were on cloud nine. You knew that the both of you had so much more ahead of you guys, and you couldn’t be more excited.

#jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader #cameron monaghan #cameron monaghan x reader #jerome x reader #jeremiah valeska #jeremiah valeska x reader #gotham jerome #jerome valeska x you #jerome valeska smut

[corazondebeskar-reads]

live to rise - chapter four

live to rise series

four: where the light won't find you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: After the Mandalorian is removed from your barrack and you are given a new assignment, you see him fight for the first time.

chapter warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, implied rape/non-con (NOT involving reader or Din), implied physical abuse, near-death encounter, mando fic tropes galore

Please heed the series and chapter warnings.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Reassigned. Not terminated. Reassigned. Your hand rests on your heaving chest as you try to settle from the surprise of it all. 

The Mandalorian’s been sponsored. 

You hadn’t thought it possible; his price was supposedly astronomical. This person must be obscenely rich. 

And then your heart drops further. This is why you shouldn’t have gotten so close. Yes, you’d rather have him leave your barracks alive than dead, but you can’t help the wave of sorrow that crests. You had enjoyed his company immensely, even dismissing the feelings you weren’t acknowledging. 

It’s not like you didn’t treat each parting as potentially permanent anyway, but sometimes, with your long-term residents, you got a little too comfortable. 

You pack up the bedding hastily and head toward Cresh. You know he won’t still be there, you tell yourself, you’re just going to get the cell turned over as soon as possible. 

It hurts a little to find it empty, anyway. 

Cresh goes through three more C-5s before you hear about the Mandalorian again.

“How did you deal with him?” Hali asks you one night after the attendants have shared the day’s news. 

“With who?” you ask, even though there’s no one else she could mean.

“That Mandalorian. He was so gruff and rude. I’m the fifth attendant he’s rejected, and it’s making everyone on edge. Like there’s something wrong with us .”

You shrug it off. “He’s just guarded. He probably doesn’t want someone in his space.” 

“Yeah, well,” she grumbles. “It’s not like we want to be in his space.”

“Has anyone explained that to him?”

“I tried to,” she says. “But it’s like he wouldn’t even listen to me.”

Cold clarity finds you with your lips parted and eyes wide. You can’t tell her. But your stomach sinks. The design of those cells puts him at the back of the chamber. If they’re being quiet, from fear or otherwise, he can’t hear them. 

They come for you the next day. Two guards. The fear when they beckon you is almost enough to bring you to your knees. 

The only reason you don’t panic completely is because they don’t bind you. They just march you between them to the upper levels. 

When you reach the lounge, they shove you through the door, and you stumble a little. 

“This is the girl, as requested, Madame, but we really can’t spare her from her duties,” says one of the commanders. You don’t know his name; the officers never come downstairs. 

“If she’s the only attendant he’ll accept, you don’t have a choice. Or am I paying these frankly extortionary caretaking fees for nothing?”

You stiffen, all nerves sparking on high alert. 

The commander stammers a little, losing his composure when he realizes credits are on the line.  

“I can handle both, Commander, I swear," you say, immediately wishing you hadn't.

The Mandalorian's sponsor turns slowly, a thin eyebrow arched. You figure you’re already in for it for speaking out of turn, so you clench your jaw and meet her eyes.

She’s petite, but there’s an undeniable aura of danger pouring from her. Her dark eyes are cold, and her plum lips narrowed. Her clothing is intricate and expensive in the way of the truly wealthy—it’s not dripping with jewels or gold; it’s quality fabric tailored immaculately, with delicate embroidery creating striking and flattering designs. She does wear jewelry, but it’s subtle and almost assuredly custom. 

“Why you?” she says.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I was his barrack caretaker.” 

She hums and blatantly looks you up and down, circling you like a nexu. You keep your head up and force yourself not to follow her with your eyes. To let her prowl and remain uncowed. 

It’s unbecoming of a servant, you know. But you want her to know you can handle him, that you won’t be intimated and manipulated by the infamous Mandalorian.

When she comes back around, she has a pleased, sharp grin. Turning to the commander, she crosses her arms. 

“Make it happen, or I’ll withdraw my sponsorship.” 

“Yes, Madame,” he says. 

You don’t want to leave the barracks. Not Cresh and not the servant’s quarters. It doesn’t really hit you until you hug Eli and realize you’ll barely see him anymore. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles when you say as much. “You’re going to come by and report, right?”

You nod, sniffling into his tunic. “I will.”

He puts his hands on your shoulders. “This is a good thing. You’ll have better… everything. And you said you trust him, right?”

“I think so,” you say. 

“C’mon, I’ll walk with you,” he says. 

You shove his shoulder. “You just want to see what it’s like inside.”

“Well, duh,” he shoves you back. 

He only gets to peek in, of course. But he still plays it up to get a smile from you. “This is kriffing wizard,” he teases. “You get your own fresher? Practically Canto Bight.”

But you’re not really seeing it through the same lens. Because your new quarters are in the Mandalorian’s cell. There’s a barred gate between you, but your cot is still behind the solid durasteel door, same as his. 

Eli sees the fear on your face. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s not locked for you. Your badge will always open it.”

He sets your bag down on the small cot and hugs you again. “You know where to find me.”

“I will,” you say. You don’t catch the look he gives Mando over your shoulder. 

You sit down on the cot when Eli leaves, more unmoored here than you’ve been in years. You let it sit, ugly and misshapen in your chest, before steeling your focus. 

“Do you have everything you need?” you say. 

“I think so,” he says. 

“Okay,” you say, and silence resettles. It’s strange to feel so uncertain around him again. “I’ll go retrieve your dinner.” 

“Do you eat here as well?” he asks. 

“If you wish,” you say. Your hands are folded together and wrapped up in the top apron layer of your skirts. 

“I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” he says. 

“I’m here to attend to you,” you remind him, feeling a little frustrated by all the things unsaid. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s—it’s nothing,” you say and sigh. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He’s almost relieved when you only bring one tray. Everything about this has been chaotic and messy. But it’s a sacrifice that has to be made. 

You retrieve his tray when you return from dining with the others, but this time, you come back to him after. The lights are out, and you think he might be asleep already, so you duck into the fresher from your side of the bars and wash up for the night. 

You settle onto your cot, almost grateful that it’s not any more comfortable than your old one. It’s strange, without the shuffling and snoring of your peers. 

And then it starts. A horribly unmistakable sound from the cell next door. You hope you’re wrong. You pray you’re wrong. 

You’re not. 

You sit up, fingers digging into your knees, and eyes on the ground. 

You can’t see into the cells around you, but you can certainly hear your neighboring attendant’s screams and cries. 

They’re begging and pleading, but no one will help them. It’s the champion’s right. The attendants must serve every request unless it goes against arena rules. 

Very few things do. 

It’s not that you’re afraid of the Mandalorian. It’s more like you’re just afraid. But he’s done nothing to lose your trust, so you try not to flinch when he comes near the bars between his cell and your chamber. 

While you manage not to, you do flinch each time the noises intensify or change. The sound of skin against skin is constant, but some are more obviously violent, emphasized by the nauseating responses. 

“Hey,” he says. “Come here.”

You’re trembling a little, but you tense and try to hold steady as you stand and approach him. The gate is not locked. It only locks when you access the main door, so that you may come and go without releasing him. 

If you’re inside? All he has to do is push. 

But he doesn’t. “Don’t listen,” he says. “Cover your ears if you have to.”

“I’m fine,” you say. 

He doesn’t quite catch it, but he can wager a solid guess from your expression. He sighs. “You can look at me, you know,” he says. “You’ll see me eventually.”

“I might be able to avoid it,” you say. 

“I appreciate it,” he says. “But this is all going to be easier if you don’t have to be trying so hard.” 

“It’s okay. I don’t want to take anything from you.”

“I’m asking you to. I don’t want the first time you see my face to be in the arena.” 

You bite your lip. It makes sense. “You’re sure?”

“I am.” 

And you can’t really argue. Not because you’re supposed to do what he says but because you get it. He’s right; you will see him in the arena. But he can control how it happens this way. It doesn’t have to be another thing they just take. 

So you look. 

Your eyes scan his face like they always do when you see one of your fighters for the first time. Searing it in so you can find it later in the pigments. 

You won’t paint him, though. Not like this.

He holds steady eye contact. You feel like he’s waiting for a reaction, but nothing comes. He’s beautiful, but that’s not yours to say. 

“I’m sorry,” you say instead.

“Thank you.” He pauses. “Worked, though, didn’t it?”

You blink at him for a moment. 

The smallest shadow of a crooked smile flickers but doesn’t ignite. “Distracted you.” 

The hall is quiet. You hadn’t realized, but the horrors next door had wound down. Stars, you hope they’re okay. Sleeping or tending their wounds. Not… well. Not forcibly silenced. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, drawing your eyes back to him. His fingers wrap around a bar near yours. Not touching, but inviting. 

“Okay.” You’re not really sure what else to say. You’ve heard it before. Some mean it, some don’t. You think he’s genuine, that he’s safe, but that caution is like a little burn that never heals, leaving you to flinch away. 

Your fingers twitch, and he thinks you’re about to touch his. 

But you wince when the main door of the neighboring cell opens. His eyes bear a plea he won’t voice, but you only hesitate for a moment before pressing your badge to the scanner. His gate clicks and the door whooshes open. 

They’re already ducking into the medbay when you catch up, so you stick your hand in front of the sensor to force the doors back open. 

It’s the girl whose name you couldn’t remember on the Mandalorian’s first night. Sessa. She startles and whirls around when she hears you, hand pressed to her chest. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you," you say quietly.

She looks at you for a moment, something hauntingly empty in her eyes before she seems to recognize you. She covers her face with her hands. 

“Please,” you whisper. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I—” her voice breaks, and you step closer, offering an embrace she folds into. 

You don’t say anything. What could you? That you’re sorry? She knows. That it’ll be okay? It won’t. It’s horrible, she doesn’t deserve it, it’s inhumane, but none of those things will help her. She knows. 

She doesn’t even really cry. It aches, but the tears don’t come, just the soft prickle of numbness. She’ll survive this, you think. She shouldn’t have to, but she will. 

When the time for softness has faded, you let her pull back, and she lets you assess her. She sits on the counter with an ice pack to her cheek and drinks the tea you press into her hand. Her nose wrinkles at the bitter taste, but the tincture within is worth it. A reassurance. Nothing will come of this that she can’t bear. 

When she leaves, she hugs you again, and you stay behind in the dark room, leaning against the counter with your arms folded over your chest. 

It wasn’t a secret, what happened here. It didn’t always; a lot of the fighters are honorable people. But sometimes… sometimes this life warps the psyche beyond repair. Sometimes, desperate people do desperate things. Become something terrible to survive. 

You just hadn’t been witness to the cruelty before. 

When you go back, Mando is still awake. Waiting, you think. 

“Is she—” he hesitates. He doesn’t want to ask if she’s okay, because the answer is no. It’s not really what he’s asking, anyway.

You nod, lips pursed tight. She’ll live, your silence says. And it’ll have to be enough.

It’s strange. Waking in his cell but rising to follow your old habits anyway. He gets served first, and then you take breakfast down to Cresh as if nothing has changed. Except you can’t linger, you can’t chat and learn of them as you used to. You have to return to the Mandalorian.

It’s strange for the both of you. Your time is usually spent busy or with the other servants. His time is usually spent alone. He doesn’t have a fight that first day and so you are forced to learn to navigate one another.

The gate between you remains closed. 

He does push-ups while you fold laundry, executes a series of jumps that cycle between laying on the floor and springing to his feet that exhaust you just to see from the corner of your eye while you clean, and balances on his hands—one and both—while you flip through the agenda on your datapad and try not to be caught impressed.

It’s quiet, this life, with neither of you inclined to interrupt the other. You let him know when you phase in and out to attend to your duties and his needs. Otherwise, you don’t really speak until nightfall.

“I’m sorry,” he says in the safety of the dark. “I didn’t know it would create more of a burden for you. I just… couldn’t trust anyone else.”

“It’s not a burden, just a change. I understand,” you say softly. 

He sighs, an edge of frustration biting. “I disrupted your routine.”

You snort. “So?”

“I separated you from your friends.”

You sigh. “Will it make you feel better if I pretend to be mad?”

“Why aren’t you?”

You sit up on your cot. “Nothing about this life is fair, and it’s all temporary. Everyone leaves, one way or another. Everything shifts. This is just another phase of my time here, and there’s no point in being upset about it.”

He lets it sit for a minute. “How long have you been here?”

“Three years. I have just under two left.”

The weight of the time is not lost on him, and you can see the hint of a grim smile. “You haven’t let it break you.”

You return the smile. “Not yet.”

He reclines against the wall, legs sprawled and dangling over the side of his bed. “For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry. It was a selfish thing for me to ask of you.”

“I’m glad you’re not alone.” You mean it. It may have disrupted what you knew before, but getting moved here did the same for him. And it took away his opportunity to talk to others. “I’m glad you trust me with this.”

He sighs, bittersweet. “Me too.” 

Something shifts, then, that you’re grateful for. The guilt and awkwardness dissipate and leave behind that budding comradery you had started to forge together. A sense of peace. 

It’s one of the better nights of sleep you’ve had in a long time.

You’ve never been in the stands before, let alone in the box. Though it’s exposed to the open sun, the vents wash it in cool air, unlike the curved benches where the crowds jeer and hiss. 

No, up here in the sponsor box, surrounded by the important and the rich, you’re considered fortunate. The Mandalorian’s sponsor is late, but you’re in place. While he waits for battle, your services shift to her.

“You’re still here,” the Madame says as she approaches her seat. 

You stand to the side, stiff and silent, until she draws near. “Yes, Madame.” 

She gives you an appraising once-over. “Good.” Her voice is as sharp as her eyes, and she settles to watch. 

You don’t really know the protocol here. Your days serving in the lounge were passed silently, circling the room with a loaded tray. Here, you’re meant to cater to her alone. 

She doesn’t speak to you, though. Doesn’t acknowledge you. She lounges, coiled and elegant, like a tree viper. 

You don’t want to watch the fights. You don’t. But you know, now, that you must. You owe it to the barrack caretakers; you can’t leave this responsibility to the other attendants alone. You all bear the burden together.

When the first fight ends in a double loss, both fighters fatally wounded, you know you’re not strong enough for this. The nausea rises until all you smell is blood, a phantom sense as the sand turns red beneath each pair’s feet. You’re shaking and all you can think is how glad you are not to have to hold a tray of glasses. 

And then it’s time.

The Madame sits up, focused, and you know. Teeth dig into the soft flesh of your cheek to hold your breath steady and shallow. Quiet as possible, as if you need to strain to hear what’s playing out in front of you.

And you think, he should not be caged, for he is power and beauty and ferociousness. You can see why his people followed him to death. He is death. 

His opponent lands exactly one strike, and you almost think the Mandalorian allowed it. Like he was gauging the strength and will. He prowls, teeth bloodied and bared, a snarl natural in the set of his lips. You think it’s laid in beskar steel, a scar you can’t smooth out into the soft curve of a smile. 

No, that’s been stolen from him, too. 

He asks his opponent’s name, and you think he’s carving it into his ribcage, so each time he breathes, it impresses upon his lungs. 

When he moves, it’s calculated. Like the arena is a map he’s plotting, each strike or dodge choreographed and steadfast. There are no weapons today, just fists, and though his opponent has the advantage of razor-sharp teeth, they never even come close to slicing him open. 

And then it’s over. The Mandalorian’s broad hands dwarf the other fighter’s jaw as he secures his grip and snaps. The body falls limp and the Mandalorian sneers at the crowd before he looks up.

There’s no way he can see you, but it feels like it. It feels like he sees you there, and doesn’t find what he was afraid of. 

He’s not in the room when you get back down, and you pre-set his towels and clean clothes, so you won’t need to go hunting them down if he wants to shower. It’s still mid-afternoon, and you’re buzzing with the leftover cocktail of adrenaline and cortisol when he comes back. 

Neither of you speaks at first as he goes into his half of the cell and cracks his knuckles, sighing deeply once the main doors are shut.

“Are you okay?” he says.

You’re surprised until you realize you shouldn’t be. He knows how weak you are. “Yeah,” you say. 

“Are you afraid of me now?” he says quietly, not looking at you. 

Oh. You get up and come closer to the gate. “No. I’m not.” 

He meets your eyes and must find the truth in them, nodding grimly. “So what did you think?”

“Why do they have you fight with a shirt on?”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“Well, it’s just, they usually—um.”

“What?”

“They usually make the more attractive fighters wear as little as possible. You know. To appeal to the crowds.”

Huh. He thought it was a choice made by the few he’d seen showing skin. And then he can’t help it. You won’t look him in the eye, and he can’t resist. “You think I’m one of the more attractive fighters?” he teases. 

Your cheeks burn, and you look very seriously at the ground. “I—I mean like, um, objectively—“

He spares you. “It’s because of my tattoos. They don’t want me out there covered in Mandalorian symbology.”

“Oh,” you say, imagination kicking off. “Can I—I’m sorry, that’s so inappropriate of me. I just… like… art.” It sounds so stupid and crude, but you mean it. 

“I’ll show you when I’m clean,” he says with a shrug. 

He always seems to understand. It’s a comfort you’ve never known before.

When he gets out of the fresher, though, you realize you have severely overestimated yourself. Because your first thought when he steps into his room is fuck. He’s big. You know he’s big. And broad. But without a shirt on? Stars. And he’s still a little wet, his crumpled curls dripping down his shoulders. 

You have got to get yourself under control. You’re pretty sure you’ve already been busted, though, because he’s suddenly looking at you, something a little dark in the lines of his face, and you feel flayed under his disapproval.

Your brain reboots in time to recover, though, as you really do take in the way his skin is bathed in black ink. A lot of it is abstract, sharp angles and curving arcs intertwining with constellations and letters in a language you don’t recognize. Some of it almost looks like smears of paint, the ink laid across his body in a manner so akin to brushstrokes that the craftsmanship is breathtaking. 

But there are a few pieces that differ, ones that stand out against the intricate patterns. You realize you’ve stepped up to the gate once he does the same. 

“These are incredible,” you say. “How long did this take?” You nod at the swirl of ink on his bicep that wouldn’t look out of place in your own work. 

“A very long time,” he says. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it. What was your first one?” 

He turns around, and you’re struck by the mythosaur skull that takes up most of his back. It’s almost shimmering. 

“The ink…” you start. 

He turns back around. “It’s imbued with beskar.” 

Your jaw drops. “It’s what?”

“It’s—I’m going to be honest, I don’t fully understand the process. But we use a small amount of molten beskar in the ink for certain tattoos. These have it, too.” He indicates the two on his front that had stood out from the rest.

“Do you mind if I ask what they are? Why they’re the ones that use beskar?”

“No,” he says casually. “They’re things that I should never be without, parts of my armor that can never be fully taken. This,” he taps the diamond-esque design on his chest, “is a beskar’ta. Every Mandalorian has one. It’s the heart.” 

You’re staring, unashamed, as he indicates the other glimmering mark on his shoulder. 

“This is a mudhorn, the symbol of my clan. Someday, my son will have the same one. He’s too young. Or, well. He’s…” he pauses like he can’t decide if he wants to get into this. “He’s not ready yet.” 

“So… so you always have it with you. Your armor. The beskar.” 

“Yes. Not everyone gets them, but many do.”

“That’s beautiful.” You’re a little speechless. Not just from the beauty of the art but the sheer idea. “That’s…” 

“You can see why Gideon doesn’t want them to be seen.”

“Yeah,” you say, a small scoff slipping out. “No kidding.” 

You step back, and he tugs on his shirt, ruffling his still-damp hair like nothing world-shattering has happened. And yet, the room seems to have tilted and knocked you to the side, the shift undeniable. 

You don’t realize why until you remember the look on his face when he caught you staring the first time. It wasn’t discomfort. It was hunger. 

It’s not a tension, exactly, that settles between you. It’s more like an acknowledgment. Something is going to change. It’s just a matter of when. And it lingers in the air for weeks. 

It happens, like almost all things here, in the wake of fear. 

You return to the cell before him, having fled the box as soon as his narrowest victory was called. Not that it gave you much of a head start, but you had time to grab a medpack and fresh clothes before they brought him in.

He never uses the arena freshers anymore, not even just to wash away the sticky, fresh blood. No, he’s still quite coated in it when the door snicks shut behind him, his face gaunt and haunted.

You think, at first, that he was afraid to die. 

Who moves first is irrelevant. Your only focal point in the galaxy is the way he feels pressed right against you, fingers digging into your soft flesh like he’s trying to pull you into his ribcage as you embrace.

You’re not being much gentler, clinging on as you shake with unshed tears. 

He lets go of your waist to clutch your face in his bloody hands. “Promise me you won’t watch.”

“What?” you say, rearing your head back to look at his furrowed brows and pouted lips. 

“Don’t watch. When it happens. I don’t want you to have to see.”

Oh. “Stop,” you whisper, but he’s shaking his head. 

“It’s all I could think about. Look away, and don’t find out what they do with my body. Promise me, kar’talyc.”

All that comes out is a sob when you try to argue. 

His hand cups the back of your head, and he pulls you against his still-soaked chest. 

Once you’ve settled a little, he pulls back but leaves his hands on your shoulders. “Promise.” 

“Mando—“

“Din.”

You blink at him for a moment. “What?”

“My name is Din.”

next chapter

*Din calls her kar'talyc, which basically means "bleeding heart" (from kar'ta, meaning "heart," and talyc, meaning "bloody.") He's been calling her that in his head since the last chapter.

*tattooed Din and his mythosaur were inspired by this art by @xxlumos

*title from "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears, but I listened to the Lorde version while writing this and highly recommend it for the vibes. The original is quite a different mood lol.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian fic #gladiator!din djarin #fic: live to rise

[p-artsypants]

The Last Flying Grayson

  While out on duty, Robin sees a billboard that chills his soul. ‘Haly’s Circus 3000 Phoenix Tour, coming to Jump City at the end of June!’ Not long after, Mr. Haly reaches out to the Titans for a favor.

Ao3 | FF.net

“I’m beat!” Cyborg lamented, slouching forward. “I hate chasing Mumbo. He’s annoying and he turned my car into a wind up toy.” 

“I’m right here,” said Mumbo, returned to his old man form. “Not much of a crime spree if I stay in one place, is it?” 

“Man, shut up!” 

“It’s alright Cyborg,” Robin patted his back. “Let’s drop Mumbo off with the police and then we can pick up some pizza for din—” as he spoke, he turned to look at their favorite pizza place, only to see a large Billboard next to it. 

Haly’s Circus 3000! 

Phoenix Tour!

Coming end of June! 

He stood frozen. Suddenly confronting his past like this was not something he was prepared for. 

“Hey, you okay?” Asked Cyborg. “You look paler than usual.” 

“Yeah dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” 

He tore his gaze away from the billboard and looked back at his team. This was his present, and that was his past. There was no reason he couldn’t stop in and say hello, but there was no use lingering on it. “I’m fine. I just…suddenly realized how much paperwork I had to do.” 

“Oh Robin, you must not lock yourself up in that office!” Starfire cried. 

“Yeah dude! It’s movie night!” 

“I’ll do the paperwork on the kitchen table, how about that?” 

Beast Boy and Starfire cheered. 

As they carried Mumbo off to the car, Raven caught Robin taking one last look at the billboard. 

She knew more than the others.

She had been inside his head and saw his memories. It was brief, but she saw it. Whether or not this ‘Haly’s Circus 3000’ was the same one from his memories, she didn’t know. But it wasn’t her place to ask. 

—-

Robin’s past came back to haunt him a few days later. 

They were all gathered in the ops room, playing a card game together and hanging out, just being teens. 

“Ha!” Beast Boy put down a card with a tornado on it. “I bet none of you nerds can beat that!” 

Cyborg groaned. “Man, I had a lightning storm! I was certain I had it!” 

“I got nothing,” said Raven. 

“I, as well, have nothing to beat the tornado.” 

“Well well well, looks like Beast Boy is cleaning up!” 

“Not so fast, Grass Stain,” Robin taunted. “I still have one card.” 

Beast Boy gasped. “You would not.” 

Robin slammed the card down onto the pile. “Meteor shower! Read it and weep!” 

“Noooo! That’s three games in a row! How do you keep winning!?” 

“Let’s just say lady luck is a personal friend of mine.” 

“You have a lady friend named ‘Luck’?” Starfire asked, a pout on her face. 

“Relax Star, it’s just an expression.” 

“Then…perhaps we can play once more and I can befriend this Lady of Luck?” 

“Nah, I’m done,” said Beast Boy. “I got my butt kicked on the field enough times this week, I don’t need it kicked in my own home.” 

The big screen came to life with an unknown caller number on it.

“Ohhh unknown caller? How much do you want to bet it’s a salesman?” 

Robin’s jovial mood plummeted as butterflies erupted in his stomach. He had a feeling. “I don’t think it’s a salesman,” he said, subdued. He rose, and answered it. 

A portly man with a curly mustache wearing a striped shirt appeared on the screen. A big smile came over his face. “Robin! Good to see you, lad!” 

Of course he knew. ‘Robin’ and ‘Boy Wonder’ had been nicknames from the circus. His uniform was nearly the same too. Not to mention the death defying stunts he performed while crime fighting. It wouldn’t be that hard for anyone from Haly’s to piece it together. But, since Haly’s left Gotham and promised to never return, he hadn’t been concerned. Now, he was. 

“Mr. Haly,” he greeted with a nod. 

“I don’t want to take up much of your time. I’m sure you and your team are very busy.” 

“Busy losing at cards,” Beast Boy grumbled. 

“What do you need?” Robin asked. 

“I’m not sure if you heard, but we’re having a comeback tour, and next month, we’re coming to Jump City!” 

“I saw the billboard.” 

“Oh good! I had hoped that advertising was working. I had an idea. We used to do these charity nights where we had special benefactors sponsor us, and all ticket sales would go to the benefactor’s chosen charity.” 

Of course he remembered. It was why Bruce Wayne had been there the night that—

Robin assumed, “and you were hoping the Titans could sponsor a show?” 

“That’s right! Of course, you would all be considered guests of honor and get VIP seats. But, if it’s not in the budget, I’d understand.” 

“I’m sure we can make that happen,” Robin smiled. This conversation was going smoother than he expected. It seemed like Haly was being considerate enough to not assume everyone else knew who he was. 

“And…I have a personal favor to ask.” 

There it was. “What’s that?”

“I was wondering if you could find someone for me. You see, our circus has many new acts, and some old faces too, but…the Flying Graysons were still the greatest. I was hoping you could find Richard, the Last Flying Grayson, and see if he has it in his heart to perform as a special act. Just one night, as an homage to his parents. Is that something you could do for me?” 

Robin was quiet for far too long before he agreed, “yeah, I’ll find him and ask.” 

“Excellent. I know this is rather short notice. We’re planning on coming in two weeks, with the first show at the end of June. We were hoping you’d sponsor the show on June 27.” 

“June 27th, huh?” There was no hiding the grief in his voice. 

“Unless you’d prefer another day.” 

“I’ll make it happen, Mr. Haly.” 

“Wonderful! Wonderful! Let him know he can reach me at this number once he knows what he’ll need for his act. I can’t wait for you to see how the show looks now!” 

Robin’s throat felt tight. “Is Zitka still there?” 

“Of course! Fat on peanuts, but she’s still beautiful.” 

Robin couldn’t help but smile. “Great to hear. We’ll see you in a few weeks then.” 

“See you!” And the call ended. 

“Soooo…” Beast Boy grinned. “Who was that?” 

“An old friend,” Robin said vaguely. He really didn’t want to talk about it, but knew if he made a big deal about not wanting to talk about it then they’d pry and pry and pry until he talked about it! 

“That’s obvious,” said Cyborg. “But what’s the story!? You know circus people?” 

Robin swallowed. “They performed in Gotham City for a time. I knew them from my time there.” Half a lie. “I owe Haly a favor.” That was the truth. 

“Man, you have the coolest experiences from working with Batman and you never talk about them!” 

He scoffed, “like the 22 times Two-Face robbed the Second National Bank of Gotham of all its 2 dollar bills? Yeah, real exciting stuff.” 

“Please,” began Starfire, “this sir-cuss is a performance, like theater?” 

“Sort of,” Robin smiled. “Circuses travel from city to city, and perform in big tents. There’s big animals, strong men, clowns, all sorts of performers.” 

“And who is this Zitka and why is she full of peanuts?”

“She’s an elephant.” 

“Cool! Robin’s friends with an elephant!” Cyborg smiled. 

“UM HELLO? You all are!” Beast Boy morphed into an elephant. 

Cyborg grabbed his trunk. “I meant a real elephant, dummy!” 

Beast boy shifted back, rubbing his nose. “So what is he having you do? Something about finding a performer? A Flying Grayson?”  

He was afraid of this. It was too close. He had to play it cool, pretend it was nothing. He was removed from the situation, and none of it mattered. 

Or he could tell them the whole truth.

Nononononono no. No. Not happening. 

“The Flying Graysons…were the headliner. A family of trapeze artists,” he began. “Gotham is full of crazies like the Joker and Two-Face, yes, but it also has a lot of mafia activity. An extortionist threatened Haly, and when Haly didn’t pay up, the thug messed with the rigging to The Flying Graysons’ act.” Robin swallowed harshly. “John and Mary Grayson…f-fell. Their son, Richard, survived.” He sighed. “I saw it happen. It was…pretty traumatic.” 

“What of the foul man that committed the crime?” Starfire asked. 

“Batman and I beat him up and threw him in jail.” 

“So, I guess this Richard guy owes you a favor, huh?” Beast Boy smirked. 

“I suppose.” 

“Need any help tracking him down?” Offered Cyborg. 

“Nah, I know where to find him.” 

“I don’t know dude,” Beast Boy wondered. “If my parents died in an accident like that, I’d never touch the trapeze again. Is he still practicing?” 

“Not exactly, but he can do it.” Robin headed for the door. “I’m going to go ahead and reach out to him. Have fun with your cards.” 

As he departed and was alone, his shoulders sagged heavily and the tears started to well up. “Not yet,” he whispered. 

He walked swiftly towards his room, only to be halted by Raven appearing from the floor. 

“Wanna talk about it?” She asked.

“About what?” Sooth.

“Robin, I’ve been in your head. I saw your memories. I don’t know the details, but that fall that you witnessed was a prominent memory.”

He had almost forgotten that she had read his mind. Raven was considerate enough to not do it very often to people.  

“I’m fine, and I don’t need to talk about anything,” he said sternly, walking past her. Then he felt a wave of guilt, because Raven, the one friend who was the least likely to reach out, was concerned. “But thanks for the offer.” 

—-

The next few weeks were quiet. Robin shared no more information about the Circus. He never said if he found Richard Grayson. In fact, he didn’t say much at all. He spent most of his days in his room. He admitted that he had been working in his office a lot of late nights, so he was taking naps during the downtime of the day. 

One night at dinner, Beast Boy asked a question that Robin dreaded. “So…I was walking past your room, and I heard a sewing machine?” 

Robin nearly dropped his fork. 

“What’s all that about?” 

Robin gnawed the inside of his cheek. “I’m working on a new costume.” 

Starfire nearly floated out of her chair. “Are you becoming Nightwing?!” 

“No, not quite,” he smiled at her enthusiasm. “I’m just…making a prototype.” Another lie. 

“Can we see it?” Cyborg asked. 

“When I’m done, I’ll show you.” Not a lie! 

—-

Soon, the date arrived. 

Robin banked on the fact that Beast Boy was too preoccupied by games to notice what he was wearing. Just in case, we wore a trench coat over his new costume. 

“Beast Boy, I have to leave early for the show, but I’m leaving your guys’ tickets on the counter with instructions.” 

“Okay Robby, see you later!” Beast Boy didn’t even turn around. 

Robin, the Boy Wonder, exited the tower, and Richard Grayson, the Last Flying Grayson, entered Jump City. 

—-

Hours later, the Titans assembled in the ops room, preparing to leave.

“Hey, where’s Robin?”

“Oh, he left hours ago,” Beast Boy said easily. “But I think he left a note around here somewhere…”

“You mean this?” Raven picked up the paper that was very clearly right in front of them. 

“Haha…yeah…” 

“Dear Titans, I went early to pick up Mr. Grayson. I have left your tickets for you. Your seat numbers are on them. Don’t wait for me, I will meet up with you during the show. Love, Robin.” 

“He can be so sweet,” Starfire smiled. 

“Yeah yeah, bunnies and flowers, can we go? I’m starving!” 

“Oh yeah baby! Carnival food!” 

“This isn’t a carnival, it’s a circus,” Raven corrected. 

“I hope they have popcorn! No! Pretzels!” 

“Whatever they have, I hope it’s deep fried and delicious!” 

They piled in the T-Car and made their way out to the edge of town. From even a few miles away, they could see the massive red and white tent, alight with search lights. 

“Whoa…” Beast Boy gawked. 

“Oh this is most exciting! Such an event on Tamaran would include the beheading of a shnerkel! Will any animals have their heads placed on pikes?” 

“Uh…no.” Beat Boy looked ill. “The circus is a fun place with no maiming.” 

“Actually,” said Cyborg. “I think their whole thing is death-defying stunts. So doing dangerous things to inspire awe.”  

“Fascinating! I believe Robin called that ‘thrill seeking’?”

“Similar,” Said Raven. “Maybe you should just wait and see. It's hard to explain.” 

They drove up to the gate, where a man in a purple clown costume waited. “Good evening! You must be the Teen Titans! Robin saved you a parking spot up front. Go ahead.” 

“Awww Robin saved us a place so I don’t have to worry about my baby getting scratched!” Cyborg sniffed. “You’re right Star, he really can be sweet sometimes.” 

Starfire giggled while Beast Boy made a gagging sound. 

Cyborg parked up front, next to Robin’s motorcycle, and then they made their way to the entrance of the tent. They passed the ticket stand that had a sign up that stated ‘Sold out’. Next to the door was a huge poster of a silhouette of an acrobat swinging on a trapeze. The font read ‘One night only, The Last Flying Grayson!’ The song of a calliope rang through the air.

“Sounds like we picked the right show to sponsor,” Cyborg noted. 

The tent was massive, with seating all the way around. Four giant poles held up the tent, which was blue with stars on the inside. 

“Tickets please,” said a woman in a glittery leotard. 

Starfire handed them over. 

“Of course! You’re the Titans. You’ll be sitting in the VIP box, in section A.” She pointed to a spot in the bleachers that was raised up and out a little, presumably for the best view. 

“We should sponsor more events,” Beast Boy grinned. 

“Enjoy the show!” The woman smiled, handing back the tickets. 

As they crossed the tent, Cyborg got a whiff of the concession stand. “I’m gettin’ in the food line before it gets too long. Whatchu guys want?” 

“Oh! I would like a hot dog with a gratuitous amount of mustard!” Starfire licked her lips at the very idea. 

“I’ll wait in line with you Cy,” said Beast Boy. 

“Raavveeennnn,” Cyborg sang. “They have pretzels!” 

“My day is made,” she droned. 

Starfire and Raven went to their seats to wait for the boys. 

“Where do you think Robin is?” Starfire asked, standing to peer through the crowd. People were still arriving and the stands were filling. 

“Couldn’t say,” Raven shrugged. “Maybe he gets to help the Ringmaster or something.” 

Like she summoned him, her communicator buzzed. “Robin to Starfire, come in, Starfire.” 

“This is Starfire. Where are you?” 

“You’ll see me soon. I need a favor.” 

“Anything!” 

“When I give the signal, I need you to prepare a Tamaranean discus maneuver.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Just trust me.” 

“Alright, you know best. Where do you wish me to aim you?” 

“At the center ring, the stage right in front of you, at the very center.” 

“What signal?” 

“Eyes on deck.” 

“When?” 

“You’ll see me. Don’t worry. And relax! Enjoy the show!” And he ended the call. 

“Uh, that’s weird.” Raven quirked a brow. 

“I hope there is no trouble.” 

“He said not to worry. Maybe he’s helping Mr. Grayson out in his act?” 

“Oh that would be wonderful! Robin is very good at the flipping!” 

“Acrobatics,” Raven corrected. 

Soon enough, the boys returned with arms full of all manner of popcorn, pretzels, hot dogs, soda, and cotton candy. “A hot dog and pretzel, for the ladies,” Beast Boy juggled over the two items, as well as two sodas. 

“Where’s my cheese?” Raven asked. 

“You didn’t say you wanted any.”

“My day is ruined,” she droned. 

Then, the lights dimmed, and a drumroll silenced all chatter. 

A spotlight illuminated a singular man in the center. The same portly, mustachioed man, wearing a red and gold suit with a top hat. “Ladies and gentlemen!” His voice carried throughout the tent. “Welcome to Haly’s Circus 3000! We would like to thank our generous benefactors for this special event, the Teen Titans!”

Another spotlight ignited on the group, unexpectedly, and they all smiled and waved awkwardly as the crowd applauded. 

“Tonight, you will witness performances the likes you’ve never seen! Prepare for awe, laughter, shock, and drama! Please, enjoy the show!”  

Sparklers ignited around the ring and the big band struck up a jaunty tune. From all the aisles came the performers. Clowns on stilts, women standing on horses, strong men carrying barrels, and even a bear on a unicycle. 

 Beast Boy shook Cyborg as he exploded with excitement. 

A man in a burgundy suit came to the center ring, holding a whip in one hand, and a giant hoop in the other. 

“Please direct your attention to the center ring, where you will see God’s mightiest creature come to heel. I present Marko, the Tiger Whisperer!” 

The audience cheered as the Ringmaster left. The man called Marko raised the hoop, and snapped his whip. 

From outside the tent came running a streak of black and orange. The tiger leapt into the ring, through the hoop, and skittered to a stop, like an overgrown puppy. 

The tamer pet his nose and fed him a treat. 

The audience and Titans watched with fascination as the tiger performed tricks that only extremely disciplined dogs could do. The act concluded with the tamer sticking his head in the tiger’s mouth. 

Starfire stood up with the crowd to applaud. 

Each act that followed was just as spectacular. 

There was a juggler that juggled flaming batons and chainsaws. A set of clowns bonked each other on the head with progressively larger and larger cartoonish hammers, and of course, the bear on the unicycle returned. 

“Does that give you fond memories, Cyborg?” Beast Boy joked. 

“It gives me memories alright. Fond? Not so much.”

“That bear is very talented!” Starfire cooed. 

“I’m surprised the unicycle hasn’t broken.” 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” called the Ringmaster once more, as the lights swirled over the audience. “The moment you’ve been looking forward to all night. A once in a lifetime opportunity. The living legacy himself! Performing high-flying death-defying stunts, 60 feet in the air, without the safety of a net, The Last Flying Grayson!” 

The spotlights turned and illuminated a young man, standing in the center ring. The haunting sound of an accordian playing a waltz filled the air. 

“Wait, is that–?” Beast Boy squinted. 

“It can’t be…” Cyborg gaped.

“But it must!” Starfire gleefully beamed. 

“No. Way.” 

The young man had black hair, styled into slicked back spikes. He wore a tight, sleeveless red tunic with yellow ties across the front. He had dark green tights, and a yellow sash instead of a utility belt. 

He had a sad smile on his mask-less face, along with face paint to make it look like he had a single tear on his cheek.

He bowed low, his arms back behind him. Then he flung back and flipped, once, twice, three times and landed on his feet. A swing, made of silk rope, descended down to him. He wrapped one side around his arm, and took measured steps in time with the music, until he broke into a run, and then twisted. He spun rapidly, gliding over the ground, and gradually raised into the air. The higher he raised, the more his body contorted, until he looked like he was twisted into a pretzel. It was all effortless, as his facial expression never changed. Just kept that look of bittersweet happiness. 

“How is he doing that?” Beast Boy asked as Robin held onto the loop with just one hand that reached between his legs while he did the splits. 

“I knew he was flexible, but…whoa.” 

A woman began to sing while he performed. A sad tune, haunting melody, and unknown words to everyone in the audience. 

Everyone, except Starfire. 

“Go, go child, go, you'll see, go.”

She knew these words were in a tongue that was not English, but she wasn’t sure how she knew them. Robin had been the only language assimilation she’d had since she’d been on Earth. But perhaps…

She learned it from him.

“Go and you'll see that a smile often hides a great sorrow. Go and you'll see the madness of mankind.”

As he contorted, Robin twisted the rope around himself, forming a cocoon, until he reached the very top. Then, he pulled a pin on one side and he fell, unraveling like a ball of yard. 

He stopped about a foot from the bottom, posed with one leg up by his head. 

The audience cheered and whistled, but the only one who stayed totally silent was Starfire. Not because she wasn’t enjoying the show, but because she was mesmerized by him. 

“Madness of mankind without righteousness, go. Madness of warriors without fear, go.”

Robin wrapped back up in the silk rope and soared through the tent, waving at the crowd as he passed by. 

The swing raised up further, and reached the height of a platform that was built into the main beams of the tent. Up here, there were several bars, some stationary, and some hanging on wires. 

“Madness of a child full of life who, playing at paradise as a soldier, was killed.”

He simply turned and stepped onto the platform, and offered a little bow. 

He raised his arms, took two steps, and leapt, gliding out to a bar on wires. He swung out, flying over the crowd effortlessly, before he flipped and grabbed the next bar with his legs. At the peak of his swing, he flipped off the bar, spun in a tight ball, and landed on a platform on the opposite side of the tent. 

The crowd clapped. 

Oh, but he wasn’t done. Of course not! He ran and leapt again, catching the bar as it swung back. He used the momentum to swing all the way around the bar several times, getting faster and faster before he let go and flung himself up high. There, he tucked into a ball and rotated twice and caught another bar. He swung on that quickly and shot up again. At the crest of his arc, he hugged his arms to his chest and twisted, turning sideways and upside down. 

The audience watched as he came down, and reached for the next bar…

And missed. 

“No!” Starfire was on her feet, ready to fly out and catch him, only to watch him fall about ten feet before he twisted again and caught a different bar with his legs. 

The audience went wild. 

Starfire nearly collapsed with relief. 

“Where fortune walks, you can't reach there with the heart anymore.”

He swung backwards, before hooking his feet around the wires and contorting backwards to climb up to stand on the bar. Once it reached the peak swing, he dropped down to his hands and swung, using momentum to swing out far and fast. From here, he leapt onto a hanging hoop. He hooked one leg around the hoop and braced the other inside, then relaxed his torso and threw his hands out. He glided over the audience, nearly touching them. Then he passed the Titans and gave them all high fives with a big smile. 

He winked at Starfire. 

The hoop rapidly rose up high into the tent, as someone pulled it on the other end. 

At the top of the tent, there was a thin wire from post to post, about a hundred feet long, and 70 feet up. The accordion and woman ended their song. 

“And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, The Flying Grayson will become the Balancing Grayson, as he performs the tightrope walk!” 

The crowd ‘oo’ed. 

Robin withdrew his bow staff from his belt, extended it, and very carefully started walking across the tightrope. 

The drums below rolled as he shuffled forward, a little more, a little more…

Suddenly, it looked like he lost his balance as he started swaying and trying to over correct. Then he jerked to one side and fell—

Only to once again catch himself, with one hand on the rope. He flipped back up easily, before stowing the staff again, then he gave an exaggerated shrug and flipped forward, walking the tightrope on his hands. 

The crowd went ballistic. 

After a few feet, he flipped again, placing one foot down, then the other, then turning and doing a backbend. Up on his hands, then his feet, then he did a front flip, a cartwheel; a full balance beam routine before reaching the other side. 

He raised his hands to quiet the roaring crowds. 

He took out his staff again, and ran out onto the tightrope. A little before the halfway point, he extended the staff and vaulted up to balance on top of it! He had one hand out, the rest of his body completely straight with his arm. Then, slowly, he transferred the connection point to his forehead. 

“Dude…” Beast boy gaped.

Robin balanced on a tightrope, on his staff, on his forehead. The drums rolled.

He gave a little shake of his hands and the band played a cheerful ‘ta-da!’ 

His friends clapped and cheered, only to be drowned out by the uproar of the crowd. 

Robin flipped backwards onto the rope, tucking his baton back into his sash. He watched the swinging bars below and timed it perfectly as he leapt, fell thirty feet, and grabbed the bar expertly. 

He whirled through the air, catching bar after bar in more and more precarious ways, like while he was spinning in a somersault, or by just one hand. He even dangled by just one foot. 

Starfire watched with awe as he performed, laughter and joy bubbling out of him each time he landed a trick. 

It was a side of Robin she’d never seen before. 

He was…beautiful. 

Of course, she and many other ladies (and probably several men) thought that Robin was cute, handsome, and ‘oh em gee a total hottie’ but seeing him right now, in this environment…he was just beautiful. 

Like a galaxy made of an ocean of stars and colors, he was beautiful like a force of nature. His thin frame was deceitful to the strength he held. His ropey muscles had mostly been hidden under loose sleeves and gloves. But Starfire could see them plainly now, and hard at work, twisting under his skin with each aerial feat. The contours of his body were distinct with the skin tight costume. The peak of the human form, a rib cage, surrounded by bands of muscle, a chest with a rapidly beating heart. Even his fingers held incredible strength, as he dangled carelessly from just the tips. 

A force of nature. A human in the most definite form. 

Utterly mesmerizing.  

Robin arched his back, hanging from his ankles with his arms far behind him. He swung his arms, pumping his body to climb higher and higher. He let go, somersaulting in the air, once, twice–five times, before landing on the tips of his toes on a platform. His silk rope dangled off to the side, and he used it to climb all the way back to the top, where the tightrope was. 

Once up there, he looked down, right to her. He pointed two fingers at his eyes, then to her. 

Eyes on deck.

The signal. 

Starfire floated out of her seat, up about ten feet, to provide plenty of clearance for what he had in mind. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke into a mic way up there. “Thank you so much for coming out tonight for my special performance. And to the Teen Titans, thank you for making this event even more special. I knew I had to design my costume after Robin when I heard you guys were going to be here.” 

He was such a liar. 

“For my final trick, I will need the assistance of a beautiful young woman from the audience.” He pretended to glance around for only a second before exclaiming, “oh Starfire of the Teen Titans! Thank you for volunteering! Give her a hand folks!” 

There was an applause, along with laughter, as this had obviously been planned. Starfire giggled as Cyborg shouted, “yeah that’s our girl!” 

Robin crawled out on the tightrope, pinwheeling one leg around his body, and then the other. When he reached the middle of the rope, he held his arms out to the side. 

A drum roll went up. 

He dropped, catching himself with his fingers, and began to swing faster and faster until he was rocketing around the wire, gaining speed. 

Then he let go and soared.  

Arms out wide like wings, he whooped as he flew. 

Then he started to fall, but he had no fear. He was falling right towards her, and she’d catch him. 

Starfire floated a couple extra feet, eager to make contact with her friend. She caught him with her hands coming to rest on his ribcage, while he took hold of her shoulders. 

“Hi Star,” he beamed, piercing her soul with those vibrant blue eyes. 

“Hello,” she smiled back, her heart in her throat. Then she twisted, never letting gravity have a turn with him in this dance. She spun, her grip dragging down to his arms.

Once, twice, three times she spun him, before she let him go. Letting go this time was so different from everytime they performed this maneuver on the field. She wasn’t flinging him into an attack. There was no enemy waiting. 

She was throwing him into the end of his act. The end of this beautiful, sacred moment. 

Robin twisted in the air and grabbed his staff from his sash. He extended it and dug it into the center of the ring, slowing his descent. He spun around it, his limbs just gliding across the surface as he slowed more and more. 

He ended with one leg wrapped around the staff, while the other kicked out. He leaned back and threw his arms out and laughed. 

It was like he was mocking the crowd. I flew, his laughter said, I got to fly and you didn’t. 

“Ladies and gentlemen! The Last Flying Grayson!” 

Robin got to his feet as the crowd stood, screaming and cheering. He bowed once again, and then departed out of the ring, choosing to cartwheel and backflip out. 

Starfire was stuck floating in the air, tears streaming down her face, as a bittersweet smile came over her face. 

“You coming down?” Cyborg asked.

She nodded awkwardly and sank back into her seat. 

“You okay?” Raven asked, offering the edge of her cape to wipe her tears.

“I am only sad it is over,” she lamented. 

“No worries!” Cyborg chirped. “I recorded the whole thing!” He tapped his head. “You can watch it over again whenever you want!” 

“Oh glorious!” She clapped her hands together, feeling slightly better. 

Of course, watching a video would never be the same as watching it in person, but it would have to be enough. 

“You guys enjoying the show?” A voice asked from behind them.

They turned in shock as Robin, back in his normal costume and mask appeared behind them. He crouched and stole a handful of Beast Boy’s popcorn. 

“That Richard Grayson is something else! Did you see that tightrope act? I wonder how long it took him to perfect that!”

Starfire grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him into a hug. “It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!” 

Robin blushed, as she had basically pulled him into her lap, but he hugged her back, nonetheless.

“I wouldn’t say it like that,” said Beast Boy, “but it was certainly the craziest thing I’ve ever seen!” 

“I knew you had some skill, but I get so focused on the martial arts part, I don’t even think about your acrobatics!” Said Cyborg. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Raven asked, not accusatory, just curious. 

“Uh…” he pulled at his collar. “It’s like…really hard for me to talk about. I figured just showing you would be easier.” He adjusted his grip on Starfire, resigned to the fact he was sitting in her lap. He couldn’t get out of the hug if he tried. “It’s…it’s been 10 years. 10 years ago today that they…my parents…” He swallowed harshly. “Haly knew. He knew I would spend the day crying and in self loathing. It still hurts, and it might never stop, but by being able to do this…it was kinda like…being with them again.” 

Starfire hugged him tighter, burying her face in his shoulder. 

“You seemed to have fun. Are you gonna do it again someday?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not.” 

Eventually, Starfire let him go so that he could sit next to her instead. She still held his arm, too emotional to let him go completely, and honestly, he didn’t mind so much. 

They all watched the end of the show together, a rancorous applause as almost all the performers came out and took their bows. 

Then, the lights came up, and everyone was free to go. 

Robin released a little sigh. It was hard, but it had been worth it. He felt happier and more content than he expected he’d feel today. 

“So,” Raven began. “Are you going to introduce us to your friends, or what?” 

“Oh yes! I should very much like to meet your elephant!” 

Robin smiled. “Whatever you guys want.” 

—

They waited for the crowds to thin before Robin led them to another tent. Here, all manner of performers lounged about, some still in costumes and makeup. When the Titans entered, attention swiveled to them. 

“Dickie Bird!” 

Then there was an onslaught of ‘way to go’s and ‘atta boy’s, accompanied with affectionate head rubs and back pats. Robin took it all in stride, vainly fixing his hair afterwards. “Uh…thanks guys. It means a lot. Um, these are my friends, The Teen Titans. Cyborg, Beast Boy, Raven, and Starfire.” 

“It is good to meet you all in person,” Mr. Haly himself said, shaking their hands. “Tonight was a smashing success. Thank you for all your help.” 

“Uh, gotta be honest man, we just showed up tonight. Robin took care of everything. If anything, we should be thanking you guys for the amazing show!” 

“Nevertheless, attaching your name to the show really brought the crowds in! We’re back, baby!” 

Robin smiled, thrilled to see Haly’s Circus thriving. 

“So,” Beast Boy began, talking quietly to Robin, but everyone heard him. “Everyone here knows who you are, huh?” 

Robin blushed, embarrassed. “Yep.” 

“You think a little piece of fabric would keep us from recognizing ol’ Dickie Bird?” A man with smudged paint on his face asked. “Even if you did grow a bit.” He nudged Robin. 

A strong man spoke up, with a heavy Russian accent. “Your friends, they do not know how you got the name Robin?” 

“Hey yeah!” Cyborg said, vexed. “How come we don’t know? Does anyone know?” 

Robin rubbed the back of his head. “It’s…kind of embarrassing.” 

“Please share!” Starfire asked, linking her fingers around his arm. 

Robin sighed. “So…I was born on the first day of spring, so my mom always called me her little Robin.” 

“Aww,” said Beast Boy. “That’s sweet!” 

Robin continued. “She said it so often, it became kind of like a stage name, though never officially since I only performed with my parents. But we did talk about me having a solo act as I got older, under the name ‘Robin, the Boy Wonder’. When I joined Batman, I was 8 and didn’t know any better and used the same name.” He gave a little shrug. “I don’t even think Batman knows.” 

“Oh, he knows,” said Haly with a laugh. “Shortly after your debut, he sent me a strongly worded email telling me not to tell anyone or there would be consequences.” 

Robin rolled his eyes. “Did you respond to that nonsense?” 

“You know, I did? I told him you were our boy and that we wouldn’t do anything to put you into harm’s way…which is why we let that playboy billionaire adopt you, despite the fact he clearly didn’t know how to raise a kid. Anyways, I asked Batman if he was in the habit of sending kids to fight on the street. And you know what he told me? He said that you went after Anthony Zucco yourself, at 8 years old. He found you out there and you told him you weren’t going to stop looking for Zucco until he was dead or behind bars.” 

“Toughest eight year old I ever heard of,” Raven said, actually sounding impressed. 

“So, I let it go. But, we've been keeping an ear out for you.” 

Robin wasn’t all that surprised that Batman had basically threatened his extended family, but he was proud that Haly didn’t put up with his bullshit. 

It also sounded like they didn’t know that Bruce Wayne was Batman. So that was a relief. 

“It was Donna’s idea to reach out to you,” Haly continued. “I didn’t know if it was a good idea, but you don’t know until you take a chance, right?” 

The woman that had taken the tickets came up to him and put an arm around his shoulder. “We still love you, Dickie Bird, and I knew we had to take that chance to see you.” 

“Dickie Bird?” Beast Boy asked Cyborg, in a hush. 

Another man started whistling a happy tune, before a few others joined in singing, “a Dickie Bird whispered ‘haven’t you heard? Spring is here, spring is here, spring is here’.” 

Then Robin finished, “And you and I fell in love in reply on hearing the Dickie bird’s news.” His smile was tight. “I…had forgotten they sang that. But I guess I never forgot the song.” 

Donna gave him a loving pinch to his cheek. “Now Dick, there’s something we wanted to give you. We found this in the archives, and we thought  you would want it.” She retrieved a tube from a table, and two of the strong men opened it up and unraveled the large poster inside. 

The Flying Graysons

New Addition 

Dick, Our Boy Wonder

It was the poster from his debut show, three years before the accident. 

“Is that you?” Starfire asked, nearly cooing. “You were so small.” 

“Still is,” Cyborg grinned. 

“Yeah,” Robin breathed. “Thanks Donna. It means a lot.” 

“Of course, baby. Now, we’re gonna put the poster from tonight in there too, so you can have both, okay?” 

Robin just nodded. 

Starfire could see this was hard for him, and just laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Why don’t you go say hello to Zitka?” Donna urged. “I’m sure she missed you.” 

“Will she remember you?” Cyborg asked. 

Robin chuckled, “well, they say an elephant never forgets.” 

—-

When they returned to the tower, Robin shut Richard Grayson away in the closet, where he belonged, along with both posters. Just a skeleton of his past life. He was Robin now, all the time. 24/7. 

Whenever Starfire tried to talk about it, he deflected the topic. Not harshly or cruelly, he just decided not to answer her directly. 

It broke her heart. 

About a week later, she sat on the rooftop, looking at the moon, that haunting accordion tune playing in her mind, the silhouette of her friend against the curtain was just a shadow on the surface. 

“Hey…you okay?” Robin’s voice asked from the door. “You were pretty quiet today.” 

She wasn’t sure if she could handle a conversation with him right now. All she wanted was to talk about his performance. She had questions and observations, and she just wanted to share it all with him. She couldn’t bear hearing him shut it all down again. 

“You know you can talk to me,” he said softly, resting a hand on her shoulder. 

“Can I?” She asked just as softly. 

“Of course.” 

“It is…about the circus.” 

He frowned. 

She prepared herself for the wall that was about to drop. 

Instead, he took a seat beside her, legs crossed in front of him. “I’m sorry. You’ve been trying to talk about it all week and…like I said, it’s really hard for me to talk about.” 

“I understand. I have things in my life that are equally difficult to share.” She reached out and touched the side of his face, where the painted tear had been. “I just…admired your performance so much. You were most joyous. I have seen you happy, but never like that. I would like to share that experience with you again. Perhaps then maybe one day, it will not be so hard to talk about?” 

Robin was quiet for a long time, considering it. Then he offered a small smile. “I’ll think about it.”

She returned the smile. “That’s all I ask.” 

—

Another week passed. Robin seemed to clam right back up. 

Starfire was resigned to the fact that that one night at the circus was all anyone was ever going to see. And she had to be fine with it. So what if he was her best friend? It was his tragedy, and only he could decide who he’d share it with. 

But then, late one night, there was a knock at her bedroom door. 

“Hello?” She asked, as she answered. 

There was no one there, but there was a package at her feet. A brown paper wrapped parcel, with a note on it. 

‘Starfire, 

Please put this on and meet me in the training room. 

-Love, Robin’ 

Curious, she ripped the paper off, only to find a purple piece of cloth, nearly the same color as her uniform. She unraveled it, surprised to find a suit made of stretchy material. It was purple but had silvery accents and glittery beads all over the front. 

It was so pretty! She held it up and did a little twirl, then rushed to put it on. 

It wasn’t a completely perfect fit, but it was comfortable and not too tight. She zipped through the tower in haste to get to the training room. 

Richard Grayson was there, dangling from his ankle from a bar hanging from the ceiling. He looked at her as she entered. 

“Oh wow!” He chirped, flipping off to land on his feet. “That turned out great! I wasn’t sure if it would fit, because I measured a spare uniform that obviously doesn’t have all the measurements—”

“You made this?”

“...yeah? I made all my uniforms. Always have.” 

“There is so much I do not know about you, Richard Grayson,” she smirked, coming closer. 

He blushed, but smiled at her. “It’s so weird hearing you say that name.” 

“Why do you look at me in such a way?” She asked, tilting her head. 

“What way? I’m just…looking at you. I mean, you’re pleasant to look at, but if I’m staring I’m not meaning to!” Shutupshutupshutupshutup!

“You mean to say this is how you look at me when your mask is on as well?”

“Yes?” Was that a good thing? Or was he in trouble now? Did he hurt her feelings? Was he leering? Glaring?

A pretty blush dusted her cheeks as her smile deepened, though it looked like she was trying not to show it.  

He cleared his throat. “Um…would you like to…learn some moves?” 

Her eyes glistened. When she asked if he would share with her, she had expected him to just talk, not this! “Yes please!” 

“Alright.” He ran and leapt, grabbing hold of the bar, then he contorted so he could hang upside down, his feet hooked around the wires. “Okay, come here and hold my arms, facing the same direction as me.” 

She gleefully did, having to hover a little to reach. 

“Okay, you’re going to push off that box to get us swinging.”

She did, and thrust her legs to pick up momentum. 

“Good! Now just do it in time with me so we pick up maximum height.” 

“Can I not just fly us up?” 

“You could, but where’s the fun in that?” 

She giggled. “You always have a certain way to do things.” 

“That I do!” 

They swung together, making the bar go farther and farther out. 

“Okay, now I want you to kick up and try to hook your feet with my calves. Don’t worry if it takes a couple of times.” 

 Using her super strength, she easily flipped up and hooked her legs with his. She was going to tease him about how good she already was, until she realized the extremely intimate position this put them in. They were completely pressed together, and she saw straight into his blue eyes. “Oh,” she whispered. 

“What?” He smirked. 

“We are close.” 

“Yep. That’s part of the experience. Now, put your arms around my neck.” 

She did so, amazed that they could get any closer. 

He had kept the swing moving despite being nervous about having Starfire so close, and effortlessly, he flipped them right side up so he was sitting on the bar and she was in his lap. “Ta-da!” 

She couldn’t help but giggle again. 

“Hey Star?”

“Yes Robin?”

“Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you. This is very sweet. What made you finally share?” 

He kicked his legs so they stayed gliding through the air. “For the longest time, Trapeze represented falling instead of flying like it should. I figured…if anyone would understand flying, it would be you. So…” He avoided eye contact, feeling awkward. That was the dumb answer.

“That I do,” she grinned softly, tenderly. Her heart was full, she thought she might just burst. “What next?” 

“Grab hold of the wires, then put your feet on the bar, right here.” He patted the space next to his hips. 

She stood, sort of, and made a ‘v’ with her body. 

“I’ll lean back, and you stand up straight. 1…2…3!”

Starfire readjusted her grip on the wires and stood, looking down. She watched as Robin fell backwards, and then disappeared. “What…?”

The weight on the bar shifted, and suddenly he was behind her, arms around her waist, and chin on her shoulder. 

“How did you do that?”  

“Trade secret,” he chuckled. “Now, when I tell you to, I want you to let go and bring your knees up.” 

“But I am holding the wire, and you are holding me. If I let go…” 

“Trust me Star,” he said earnestly. “You’ll love this.” 

“Alright. I am ready when you are.” 

He tightened his hold on her waist. “And…go!” 

Starfire let go of the wire, tucked her knees, and instinctually clenched her eyes shut. She let out a loud ‘EEP!’ as she felt them fall backwards together. Then she flipped all the way around, before they came to a swinging stop. She peeled her eyes open to find herself parallel with the ground, being held by the hips. 

She craned her neck to look at Robin, who was hanging by his knees. “Ta-da!” He chuckled. “It’s probably not all that exciting since you can fly on your own.” 

She laughed and placed her arms out in front of her, like she did when she flew. “Contrariwise, it is very exciting! I am not prepared for what you are going to do. I am not in control.” 

“So this is a good trust exercise then!” 

“You have my trust, Robin,” she said so sincerely, so confidently, it brought a pang to his heart. He trusted her too. With his life, with his past, with his heart—

Starfire noticed he was using her like a pendulum to gain height again. So, she flew, just a little, just to get the bar moving. 

“Ready Star?” He called down. 

“What is happening?!” 

“Here we go!” 

Starfire let out a shriek this time as he yanked her upwards and let go, only to grab her a second later and hug her to himself. She fell to sit sideways in his lap as he sat on the bar. 

“Did I scare you?”

“Only for a moment!” She giggled, the joy in her soul bubbling over. She wrapped her arms around his neck for a better hold. 

Robin lazily kicked his foot to keep them moving, but otherwise just enjoyed having her close. What a thought. They weren’t even talking. 

He shook his head, a little embarrassed by himself. 

“What is it?” She asked sweetly. 

“Nothing, just thought of something ironic.” 

“Would you please share your ironic thought?” 

He held his breath. 

Well.

He was Richard Grayson right now. No mask, no polymerized titanium cape, and Starfire was sitting on his lap. 

Couldn’t really get more vulnerable than that, right?

He exhaled. “I was just thinking…I lost the two people I loved the most to a fall. But I don’t have to worry about losing the girl I love, because she can fly.” He offered a small smile. 

“Me?” Her eyes brightened. 

He just nodded. 

“Robin, you truly love me?” 

“Yeah,” he whispered. 

She touched his face, gently drifting her thumb over his cheek. “The feeling is mutual.” 

His shoulders sagged in relief, and his smile grew. 

“Shall we initiate lip contact?” 

He barked a laugh, not because it was funny, but because it was so Starfire that it brought him immense joy. Instead of answering, he just leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. 

Starfire smiled into the kiss and hugged him tighter. Thankfully not too tight, as she had a tendency to get carried away with these things. 

As they pulled away, they stayed close, just savoring the moment. 

As Robin was in what was probably the happiest moment of his young life, it all shattered in front of his face. Like a bucket of ice water, the sound of three people clapping slapped against his face. 

Well, a cyborg, changeling, and an empath. 

Robin whipped his head around to stare at the intruders. 

“Bravo! Encore!” 

“Bravissimo!” 

“Yay.” 

“How…long…have you guys been there?” 

“Dude, like, the whole time. When I saw Starfire dressed like a purple disco ball, I knew something like this was going down.” 

“The pageantry! The drama! The action! The romance! Best show I’ve seen all week,” Cyborg smirked. 

“Congrats on the kissing,” said Raven, who seemed genuinely happy for them in her own way. 

Robin sighed. He should have known better. 

“So are you going to teach us how to acrobat?” Asked Beast Boy. 

“Do we have to sit on your lap too?” Asked Cyborg, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“As long as I get a sparkly leotard, I’ll be happy,” Raven made a rare joke. 

Robin was far too embarrassed to retort to any of that, so he just hid his face in Starfire’s shoulder. 

“Dudes! We can start our own circus! We have a full set! And we could all learn Trapeze from Robin and do a whole show! We can call it, ‘The Teen Swingers Club’.” 

Cyborg and Robin burst out laughing while Raven desperately tried not to. 

“What? What’s so funny?” 

“Yes, I do not understand the joke either.” 

Robin whispered the meaning to her quietly before she also burst out laughing. 

“Aw man. I hate it when my best jokes are accidents.” 

“The best things that happen to you are accidents,” Raven quipped. “You probably were an accident.” 

“Hey!” He barked, offended. 

Starfire giggled and rested her head on Robin’s chest. “Do not be embarrassed, Robin. For I could not hide what happened from our friends, and this way we do not have to tell them.” 

He sighed. He supposed that was a bonus. 

Besides, he had started this trend of showing vulnerability instead of talking about his feelings. Why stop now? 

“Hang on,” Robin told Starfire. 

She gleefully squeezed tighter as he fell backwards, and the rest of the Titans cheered. 

—

The next day, both posters were hanging proudly in the training room, right by the acrobatics equipment.

#fanfiction #robin #starfire #robstar #teen titans #tt animated #dick grayson #koriand'r

[darkersoul]

can you talk about the difference between hastur and the king in yellow because i swear every source i look at gives me a different answer on where the line is

This is very complicated on a meta level so here we go:

The King in Yellow was a collection of short stories by Robert W Chambers. In this collection, The King in Yellow is a play that, after reading, invades your life by changing your perception of reality. Characters talk about the character in the play named The King In Yellow.

One character hallucinates being attacked by the King who refers to himself as "The living God." However, this doesn't actually hold too much weight on the King being a god in the original stories, as the entire story where this event happens centers around a singular very religious man and the church he attends.

The name Hastur is mentioned in one passage in the entire book, a list of stars implying that Hastur in the original stories was just meant to be the name of a fictional star. The name itself was borrowed from a story by Ambrose Bierce where Hastur is a benevolent shepherd god.

Moving on to quite a while later, in HP Lovecraft's "The Whisperer in Darkness," the aliens in that story make reference to various elements of the King in Yellow as well as the name Hastur, but once again, there is nothing in this passage indicating that Hastur is a god.

Now we get to Derleth. One of HPL's protoges, Derleth used the name Hastur for a god of his own creation, an octopoid being that lurks in the lake of Hali in the city of Carcosa. Besides the location in which this god lives, Derleth's Hastur has no connection to The King in Yellow.

Finally, we reach the Call of Cthulhu Scenario "Tell Me, Have You Seen The Yellow Sign," in which the author submits that The King in Yellow is an avatar of the Derleth interpretation of the God. And due to the influence the RPG has on the Mythos as a whole, the association stuck.

So, yeah, Hastur and the King in Yellow being the same being happened nearly a century after The King in Yellow was created.

#cthulhu mythos #call of cthulhu #cthulhu #lovecraft #hp lovecraft #the king in yellow

[magnoliasandarson]

million dollar smile

By all accounts, Richard John Grayson was a bubbly child. Lively, ever-smiling, he talked a mile a minute at anyone who would give him a second. He fluttered about under the big top at Haly's with all the joy and energy of a storybook child. He took to the sky with his Daj and Dat, eyes looking out to the crowd—performing as only he could. Then his parents fell.

Suddenly, the smiles never quite reached his eyes; his energy was still there, but it wasn't the same. He didn't soar; hands stretched to the sky, he leaped- eyes fixed on the ground. His jokes weren't cheeky- they were acidic. Now the story didn't end happily ever after; now it ended with Dick Grayson making things right. No matter the cost.

But Bruce tried. He stared into darkened blue eyes that once reflected the happiest summer days and offered a new chance. He took the boy's darkness into his own shadows and handed him a suit made of the sun and everything good. The smiles were real again, painfully so, but there was an awful curl on his lips that made it look more like a snarl. Even so, it worked for a while, but a bandage on a bullet wound never holds.

The darkness crept into his periphery again. Blurred his vision. He kept trying to fly- kept trying to be worthy of his vibrant armor. But Bruce was done trying. He snatched away his salvation- and tossed it to another kid with starry eyes. Dick tried to hate the boy- Jason- the imposter that stole his birthright and legacy in one fell swoop, but his chip-toothed grin stole away into his shadows, and the world wasn't so dark anymore. 

Now, when Robin went flying into the dark, he had a companion in the darkness. More likely to snap than the younger, more ready to make the hard calls. It was his purpose; Nightwing wasn’t meant to be a beacon of light. 

They only ever caught glimpses of him from the shadows.

Just a flash of shiny white teeth before the darkness.

#dc comics #dc universe #batman #robin #dick grayson #richard john grayson #batfam #bruce wayne #jason todd #nightwing #batbros #batfamily #dc robin #batsiblings #haly's circus #john grayson #mary grayson #dc

[starrysnowdrop]

Hali tours an authentic Dwarven house in the village of Tomra. Sorry, dwarves/lalafells only! Lali-ho everyone!

#ffxiv shadowbringers #tomra #ffxiv lalafell #female lalafell #dunesfolk lalafell #hali aloke #oc: drops of jupiter #finally FINALLY I could go in and see the house in Tomra! #everything is lala size and it’s absolutely adorable #I don’t think Hali liked the beds too much however #she is used to more room to spread out #but she did appreciate being able to reach everything without standing on stools

[kth1]

Welcome to Woodsboro [KTH]

⟶ Welcome to Woodsboro [Taehyung x Female Reader] ⟶ Genre: Thriller, Horror-themed, Some Fluff, Established Relationship, Smut, One Shot, 18+ ⟶ Warnings: mentions of the scream lore, mentions of killers (main characters are alive and well), references killings, references murders, references death, uses a fake knife, fingering, unprotected, slight choking, tiny roleplay, creampie, etc. ⟶ WC: 15.8k+ ⟶ Beta: wittle tiny hali @haliiimede​ ⟶ Summary: One generation's tragedy is the next one's joke as two horror enthusiasts set out to visit California's most infamous murder site, Woodsboro. Decorated like a festival throughout the town is none other than the haunting and creepy mask of Ghostface. As an area with a history of a gruesome and terrorizing past, there is nothing better for fanatics from all around to show up on the anniversary of the very first murder that set off decades of repetitive fear. ⟶ Author’s Note: Apart of Bangtan Cinema: Horror Night! I’m super stoked to dabble in an AU which I personally love so dearly! Scream is my favorite horror franchise and slasher story, so it was only time for me to step down into the spooky pits of this type of story! Fun feedback is greatly appreciated if you have the time! Side note: This story takes place right after the 2021 film! So for those who know Scream, you will understand a bit better! Also I know my banner is super misleading but it’s so sexy so I don’t care.

The two seater Chevrolet Spark, which you and Taehyung drive in, cruises down the highway at impeccable speed given its size and stature. Zipping through lanes and passing slower cars all while doing the acceptable speed limit to reach your destination of choice. Which is none other than the well-known town in California named Woodsboro; a once quiet area many moons ago, now laced with a looming darkness and a chilling past. A hot spot for all horror enthusiasts to visit with curiosity and eagerness due to the story of former resident, Sidney Prescott.

To this day, Woodsboro is one of California’s most marketed and commercial murder sites.

Taehyung, your boyfriend for some time now, and yourself set out on a road trip to visit several famous murder-magnet areas across state lines throughout North America. Having a strong knack and liking towards horror as a whole; both you and Taehyung run your own podcast and occasional YouTube streams about several types of horror-related thoughts and opinions. Digging deep into the topics on hand and investigating the stories behind the stories of each subject.

The two of you managed to find another through your similar interests. Both individually having your own livestreams and eventually merging together as one after several personal interactions later. Together, the two of you take on the world of horror whether it be nonfiction or not!

You’ve been on the road for nearly 4 hours as your vehicle inches closer to Woodsboro. Taehyung takes on the wheel with ease, opting to use cruise control when necessary while you two share fast food fries tucked into the center console. The GPS on the dashboard indicates the two of you should be arriving shortly and excitement inside sparks higher than ever.

Mindlessly, you watch on your phone a new interview on Kirby Reed, a survivor from one of Woodboro’s murder sprees back in 2011. You mentally take note of a few sentences she states, trying to compare things she is speaking about now versus from when she was first interviewed 9 years ago. How much she has grown and changed throughout the years of being a survivor and taking life on with a new perspective.

“You know,” Taehyung begins speaking, “I’m surprised they haven’t made another Stab movie after the last massacre.”

“Do you mean the one Kirby was a part of or do you mean the one that happened literally last year?”

“Honestly, both. Considering that every-so-often something happens in Woodsboro or in regard to Sidney. I’m curious why the franchise didn’t come up with another movie to continue. I’m feeling a little dry over here with my favorite classic.”

You laugh a little as you tap through your phone to Google about any updates in reference to any future Stab movies. Clicking your tongue, you ease further back into your seat as you read the letters on your device.

“Says here it doesn’t look like there are any production talks about another Stab. Probably because the last film, Stab 8, was utterly terrible and Hollywood realized that it’s a dead franchise without Sidney’s story or Gale Weathers’ books to keep it alive.”

Taehyung grabs a handful of fries to shove into his mouth as he monitors the road ahead of him. His eyes watch for the large signs above that’ll signal the upcoming exits and the distance he has to get to them. 

“Stab 5 was awful too,” he quips, “That shit even had time travel in it. But I still loved it!”

“I think you’re hooked on the idea of Ghostface more than anything now,” you laugh at him while admiring his side profile and honey blonde hair.

Taehyung cracks a small smile, knowing very well that you are correct. His love for the entire Sidney Prescott lore stuck with him ever since he first learned about it. Something about the story just appeals to him, even though it’s a corrupted story and not one you would read in a happy fairytale book.

“To be fair, you like it too.”

“I do,” you affirm with a smile. “And we have several podcasts and documentaries to thrive off of! I don’t think we need another Stab movie.”

“Unless…” Taehyung grins as his hands run across the steering wheel.

You blink at him, awaiting his next words.

“Unless they went back, like they normally do with the classics, and remake everything from the beginning! New cast, new views, new –”

“– The first 3, the original trilogy, are solely based off of Sidney Prescott and Gale Weathers’ books! How are you going to remake something based on real events and get away with it? Besides, Sidney threatened to sue the companies if they continued with her story. That’s why we have all these extra movies that half the time don’t make any sense.”

You laugh at the sudden pout formed on Taehyung’s lips that match the turned down brows on his forehead. He tilts his head as he huffs quickly, giving off a disputed noise.

“Haven’t you read into all of the murder massacres?”

His tone sounds defensive but you find it cute. You’re not trying to rile him up, although you are here for it if he speaks up. Taehyung normally becomes very passionate over his opinions and almost always has the need to express them.

“Are you saying I’ve never done my homework on Woodsboro? I’m quite offended,” you feign hurt. “Of course I know what went on. We did have a variety of podcasts entirely on Woodsboro.”

“Then you do realize that nearly all the murders were trying to out-do the original?”

A ping alerts on the dashboard before you, warning that your exit is coming up on the right. Taehyung merges into the closer lane when the coast is clear, taking the car out of cruise control in the meantime.

You question him with a puzzled look, “Are you seriously using that to ground your argument for another Stab movie?”

“It’s pretty solid if you ask me.”

The car slows down to a lesser speed as Taehyung directs it through an exit. The road bends slightly, pulling off of the California freeway and approaching the first set of traffic lights you’ve seen in hours. A green sign posted in the ground on the other side of the street welcomes you with the words “Woodsboro: City Limit”.

You begin to fidget with giddiness in your seat, you can see Taehyung do the same as the two of you actively scan the area around you with your eyes. Finally, the two of you have officially entered the area you’ve always talked about. Always researched on.

It’s all coming to life right before you; thrilled is a complete understatement!

Fumbling with your phone, you quickly tap on your device to access the camera app. You select the video, making sure it’s at its highest quality, as you start to record the scene before you. Speaking into the microphone, you express with a shriek of excitement that “Scary-tales”, your podcast and YouTube name, has officially set foot in Woodsboro.

Taehyung drives down the street after the light turns green, marveling at the scenery around. The two of you aren't surprised once your vehicle comes to a slow stop behind a line of cars. They seem to be waiting to enter the small town as well.

“Looks like there’s going to be a lot of festivities,” Taehyung voices as he points over to the left shoulder of the road. From a far distance he can see black fabric hanging from a sign accompanied with a white mask. “The town probably is all decorated for the season.”

Astonished, you try to lean over and look out from his side of the car.

“Oh! That’s so cool!” It takes you a moment to register something of importance, like a thought lingering in the back of your mind which now jumps out from hiding. “You did make sure to pack the good camera this time, right?”

The car moves up in line, the flow becoming a steady 10 miles per hour instead of the occasional stops.

Taehyung quickly glances at you to reassure your suspicion on him, “Of course! I brought the one with the little attachable microphone!”

You shrug in your seat, giving Taehyung a scrunched up facial expression as you regret the low faith you had in him a second ago.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry!” you laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just wanted you to be able to capture everything you wanted. This place is more for you than for me.”

“Nah, baby, this place is for us both.”

He grins from ear to ear with sparkles in his eyes. He’s serious and endearing.

“You like Ghostface too!” he adds with mirth.

You pan your phone over towards him, recording his face as he speaks with enthusiasm. You smile with joy, letting out a laugh when Taehyung begs you not to record him.

“He’s no Michael Myers, but what can I say? I like my men with a mask.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow towards you, humor in the tone of his voice when he questions you next.

“So you’re saying I need to wear a mask?” He jokes with a giggle.

You shake your head at his nonsense, but he’s funny nonetheless. It manages to make you smile wider and that’s all he wants from you. To make you enjoy yourself all in all.

The deeper you enter Woodsboro, the more decorations the two of you notice. The entire town is covered with Ghostface decorations and painted blood spills. Street signs from as simple as “2 Hour Parking” to the tops of lamp posts all have a floating Ghostface mask with ripped up black fabric drifting in the wind of the chilly air. Giving the town even more character; making it feel even spookier.

You zoom in and out on all the decorations that you can catch in a passing car. Taehyung continues to travel by the GPS’s directions while you speak openly to your phone that’s recording the festivities and spooky decorations.

“Traffic remains busy as ever. It’s the exact day, September 28th, of the first original murder which set out decades of horrendous attacks and killings to the years that followed. Maureen Prescott, Sidney Prescott’s mother, was murdered in this very town 27 years ago. Here, I, Y/n, and my most trusted colleague and partner, Taehyung finally have entered California’s most infamous town. Woodsboro!”

Slowly the vehicling passes through the town square. It feels as if every street has a police car patrolling the area. A small park resides in the middle of the cross-pathed streets, vendors and food trucks line up from end to end. You can spot Ghostface merchandise everywhere you look before you turn to Taehyung with surprise.

“They really turned this place into a celebration. I wonder if there’s any movie viewings at an abandoned farm or the theaters,” Taehyung ponders out loud.

“We did not come all the way out here just to watch the movies,” you lightly hit his shoulder. “We want to experience the actual vibe of Woodsboro.”

Taehyung chuckles as his eyes light up. He sees a group of people following the lead of a female with a microphone and small speaker attached to her hip. She’s ushering the crowd through the park, pointing over at some local stores and holding out a map.

“We’ll be sure to take a lot of photos and videos,” Taehyung exclaims. “We’ll see as much as we can!”

Shortly after being directed through traffic, Taehyung drives past Woodsboro High School. Both of you ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ over the building. Large banners drape over the front of the building with Ghostface’s mask. Firefighters on ladders are trying to take them down, disapproval from the Mayor must be the reason.

“It must suck working for a town that mocks its law enforcement and first responders,” Taehyung murmurs under his breath. “The place turned into a whole attraction site for people like us.”

You pan your phone over to Taehyung with a wide grin on your face. Angling yourself to get to the High School in the background of Taehyung, you clear your throat to gain his attention.

In your deepest and creepiest way, you speak the classic quote.

“What’s your favorite scary movie, Taehyung?”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes as he quickly looks into the camera. He squints as if he’s up to no good. The GPS speaks to you once again, telling you to take the next left turn and the destination will be a mile up on the right. Taehyung raises his eyebrow to flirt, giving you a suggestive glare.

“Bambi.”

The fork in your hand clinks against the plate below you as you stab into a clump of mashed potatoes. It’s salted and buttered exactly the way you like it. In your opinion it is a better choice compared to the diner fries. So, at least you say as you stare over at Taehyung’s plate of food with pieces of fries you pick off his plate whenever you feel like it.

His mouth opens wide to engulf a large portion of his triple stacked cheeseburger loaded with tomatoes, pickles, onions, ketchup, mayonnaise, and the diner’s special hot sauce. This man always surprises you with how he can practically inhale his food, making you question how he even digests it all before his next meal. Taehyung has just as strong of a love for food as he does for his murder stories.

You pick at your BLT sandwich piece by piece as you look around the diner. The layout is plain and simple, suits the busy crowd well with the variety of characters that linger throughout. Several people sit at a curved stool in front of the bar, snacking on their meals they ordered. Whereas you and Taehyung managed to snag a corner table right near the large display window that sits two of you comfortably. Even the menu and window decal supports Ghostface’s presence. Yellow seats cover the base of each booth tied with an off-white backing. The table before you is dressed in a clear-plastic, protecting the speckled aged wood.

“I still can’t believe you managed to find an available room at the hotel in this town. It wasn’t too expensive, was it?” You question Taehyung as you whip out a small notepad from your purse. “Like, it wasn’t a big price for here?”

Taehyung continues to munch on his burger while nodding his head, humming a “mmf” as he answers you back. Dressing drips off the side of his mouth and runs down his jaw as he searches for a napkin.

“It’s all good, I’ve handled it. I booked the room months ago so no need to stress about the cost. We’re covered, baby.” He reassures you. Taehyung swipes away the food on the corners of his lips. “Besides, we’re only here for two nights and you can’t put a price on this type of stuff.”

Your pen runs across the paper of your notebook as you jot down the beginnings of a list. Mapping out their path of where they want to visit and what they want to do during the small timeframe they have.

“Okay,” you hum. “I trust you.”

Taehyung reaches over to grab your hand, his thumb rubs softly over your knuckles. He knocks the pen out of your grip and laces his fingers with yours.

“Hey,” he speaks softly. “I know you have so many things going on in that brain of yours, but sit back and enjoy yourself right now. We have all the time.”

You sigh but give Taehyung a warm smile in response. Your hand squeezes him a little more as you nod your agreement.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to calm down. I just have all this excitement –”

“– And that’s okay. I appreciate and love how excited you get, baby!” Taehyung smiles and grabs a french fry off of his plate and feeds it to you directly. “I’m wired too.”

“Say, let’s hit up one of these merchandise stands after we finish up our lunch. I’m sure we can get a fun matching shirt or something.” Taehyung flashes his teeth before biting on his bottom lip.

“Tempting,” you bat your eyes at him quickly, “But let’s figure out all the places we can visit and hit up. I want to visit the Macher’s house – well technically it was last owned by the Freeman’s. But it was the place with the most attacks. The one on Turner Lane! I heard it was turned into a walk-through funhouse of some sort. Like a museum but not really.”

“That would be such a great place for an airbnb,” Taehyung adds. He continues finishing up the food on his plate while you start jotting down your list.

“Right?” You agree with him. “But the idea of being able to walk around it freely is also pretty cool.”

Your waitress steps over to your table suddenly, her black apron sitting comfortably tight across her waist. She checks in with the two of you, has a coffee pot in hand and offers some for your empty cups in which the two of you agree immediately. Traveling through the state of California to hit up all your favorite horror-related sites has proved to the two of you that coffee is your new best friend.

“Just let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to order,” the waitress with the name tag saying ‘Tatum’ waves as she walks away to check on the other tables she’s in charge of. 

You tap Taehyung on the arm frantically the moment she disappears from your area, “Tae, did you notice her name?”

Taehyung looks up at you through his sweet honey blonde curtain bangs with another mouth full of food. His eyes open wide like a confused puppy.

“No?” he tries to say without spitting out any food.

“Her name is Tatum! Like Tatum Riley! Sidney’s best friend during the first massacre!”

“Oh shit, no way! Maybe her parents are lowkey a fan?”

“I’m afraid to ask though, she probably gets questioned about it a lot.”

You take a long sip of your coffee as you jot down more ideas. The surrounding tables are beginning to fill up more with bodies, making the Woodsboro diner sound a bit louder. Even a group of rowdy teenagers come in with full apparel of Ghostface costumes but each mask is a different color.

Taehyung stops mid-bite when his face turns into realization about something. His whole body stills as he processes his thoughts.

You look up at him when he makes a disgruntled noise with his throat. His brows slowly knit together.

“What’s the matter, babe?”

“Something just hit me,” he says with skepticism. “What if we end up getting killed?”

You laugh out loud, motioning with your hand for Taehyung to relax.

“Tae, we’re fine. Everything here is focused on Sidney. There is absolutely no reason or any motive for a Ghostface to attack us,” you reason with him. “And before you ask, last year’s massacre was in-relation to the people who were tied to the original massacres. All the people involved with the lore of the first mastermind of it all.”

“Billy Loomis,” Taehyung utters under his breath. Even the name sends a shiver down your spine now that you’re in this town. “But also, horror enthusiasts… one who watches too many movies and shows, like us…”

“Like Amber Freeman and Richie Kirsch?”

Taehyung nods, “There could be more people like the murderers from last year who just want to continue the story.”

You squint your eyes at Taehyung from across the table. Your face twists with humor and confusion, unsure on how to respond to his words.

“Saying something like that makes it sound like you’d be the one to do that type of thing,” you state nonchalantly.

“Not at all!” He reclines back into his side of the booth. Taehyung brushes his hair out of his face with a hand, the other searching for his phone in the pocket of his jacket. “I’m saying other people could be motivated in such a way. Do you really think I'd be capable of something like that?”

“Most people don’t know who could be a killer until they’re caught…” You tap your pen on the table with a smile on your face. “So I wouldn’t know if that’s something you’re into,” you joke.

Taehyung browses through some of his notifications on his cell phone when he gives you a contemptuous face. He’s unsatisfied with your accusation, but you do have a point.

“Baby, I can say the same thing for you.” He raises his eyebrows with surprise, smiling to himself as his thumb taps away to send a message to someone. “I mean, you indulge yourself in plenty of scary movies too. Which franchise are you trying to keep alive?” He jests with a wink as he places his phone down and turns the screen for you to view. 

You see a banner posted to a Twitter post that is colorful and pops out to draw the creative eye. In large bold words it says “Annual Stab-a-thon!” with pictures of knives and pumpkins. Attached is a timeframe and location, one nearby, which makes Taehyung wiggle his brows at you.

“You’re funny,” you dryly say as you push the phone away from your side of the table. The sarcasm laced in your tone only makes Taehyung content with his actions. “You know I would never do something like that,” you say in reference to the hint of you being a killer. “Honestly, I don’t think I'd survive very long in a horror movie. I am the type to be at the wrong place at the wrong time,” you humor him with your confession.

Taehyung grabs your notepad from you swiftly to write down an idea. He tilts his head to the side, shaking it at you in disbelief.

“Ah, you need to give yourself more credit than that,” he scribbles down his chicken scratch while speaking to you. “I think you would make it to the final act!”

“Well with you as the killer, I think you’d give me some mercy to make it that far,” you tease as you bite back a smile.

Taehyung scrunches his face with anger and surprise. His mouth gapes open with a disappointed huff.

“I’m not a killer!” he protests with his whole chest. He uses his forefinger to press into the table with every syllable he speaks. “I’m an innocent person!”

The two of you break out in a fit of laughter. Taehyung looks at you with sadness while holding back his full smile as you roll your eyes at his ridiculousness. It’s conversations like these that end up with cute displays which makes you love the man even more.

“Tae,” you drawl as you recollect the conversation. “You’re cute when you get offended.”

“Thanks,” he responds laconically and with a pout.

Your waitress, Tatum, comes back over once again with a written out check for your table. She offers her service one last time to see if either of you need any more refreshments or food before handing the piece of paper over. Your boyfriend snatches the check from your view and fishes out his wallet from his back pocket.

“I got it covered,” he states as he counts through his money.

“Okay, but the next thing we have to pay for is on me!” you declare.

There’s always this weird complex with you that you feel the need to have equal contribution to spending expenses. If someone keeps pampering you too much, someone like a boyfriend you know so well, you tend to find ways to make it equal in return. 

Somehow.

“We’ll see,” he grins.

Before Taehyung can manage the tip for the waitress, you emphasize the importance of the notepad still sitting out on the tabletop. You read the last thing Taehyung wrote, which is the address “34 Elm Street.” Nodding your head, you raise your shoulders to show your indifference to it.

“The Prescott’s old house,” you acknowledge. “I’m down.”

Taehyung holds onto his cup of coffee while leaning in to look at the notepad. You reach for the pen once again to begin writing more.

“How about we finish our list before we leave here and check out some souvenir places. By then we’ll be able to check into our hotel room and start visiting some spots. I’ll have to fill up the tank as well.”

“Sounds like a plan!” You voice with keenness. 

Your pen traces letters into your notepad as you add stars next to your favorite and must visit sites. Tonight the two of you will be able to hit some of the areas up with no problems in your way. Enjoy some festivities and grab some merchandise. Have fun together and experience some irreplaceable memories.

And survive Woodsboro.

Taehyung and you both walk into room 312 with your bags in hand. Right before arriving at the hotel, you had stopped at a local grocery place to grab a few necessities and snacks to hold you over for the night. Thankfully the WoodSpring Suites comes with a complimentary breakfast in the morning along with a small snack area where you can purchase beverages and food that can appeal to a small appetite. But with Taehyung, you already know that the store was the better choice for the matter.

The entire left wall from beginning to end is colored in Aegean blue while the rest of the walls are a soft eggshell white color. The king size bed is covered in grayish-tan and rice paper colors, complemented with hickory wood furniture. The laminate flooring matches the wood as much as possible, giving the room a friendly and clean look to it. One single off-yellow couch sits in the corner of the room with a coffee table in front of it. 

“Finally!” Taehyung rejoices to himself as he plops his bags down on the edge of the bed.

You, however, walk yourself to the coffee table and neatly take out pieces of your electronics and begin to step up a small work desk for yourself.

“The place looks great,” you comment as you toss the remote controller over toward the bed for Taehyung. 

“Yeah, I like it too!” Taehyung shuffles through his bags and gathers articles of clothing for himself. He continues to unzip and pull apart his items all over the spread of the bed. “Did you want to do a nightly recording before bed?”

You nod as you focus on angeling your laptop and connecting it to an outlet in the wall beside you. “With some of the sites we managed to see today, like the Robert’s house and High School, I think we can talk about some things if you’re up for it. It is kind of late though.”

“My legs hurt from walking so much,” he laughs while he sits on the bed and kicks off his shoes. “Can we do a mini-one? I’m kind of beat. Going to jump in the shower before anything though. Do you want to join?”

Looking over at Taehyung, you see he has a satisfied face without giving you a glance. You’re well aware he has already determined his actions for the next 30 minutes and you are in no position to stop him.

“I’m ok, I can wait.” You smile. Typing in your password to the laptop, you smile to yourself. “I can start reheating those microwavable meals while you are in the shower so they’ll be ready by the time you come out.”

Taehyung makes his way over to you as he leans down. All his clothes and toiletries are stuffed in between his arms.

“Thank you,” he grins as he waits for you to connect his awaiting kiss. 

You bite on your bottom lip before giving him what he wants. It’s a sweet and simple kiss, nothing hidden behind its meaning besides pure adoration.

The two of you are cut off by the sound of your hotel’s phone ringing. You give Taehyung a muddled face but he looks just as perplexed as you do. He moves toward the phone and by the third ring he picks it up.

“Hello?”

You watch as Taehyung’s facial gestures change through a series of confusion and amusement. He holds back a cringe smile, probably trying not to laugh.

“Oh yeah?” he says back to the phone. “A game?”

You furrow your brows while watching him. Taehyung wears a lopsided grin as he shifts his weight on his feet.

“Not interested, but this was cool,” he comments before hanging up the phone.

“Was that the front desk?” You blink at him.

Taehyung shakes his head while shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t think so,” he huffed a laugh. “Someone trying to do the Ghostface voice.”

“What really?” You speak with astonishment, “No way!”

He departs towards the bathroom before the phone rings once again. Taehyung stops and turns on his heels, eyes glaring at the phone that flashes. Taehyung shares a curious glance with you and raises his eyebrows.

“Do you want to answer it?”

The phone continues to ring until you finally decide for yourself to head over toward it. You grip the device with no hesitation and lift it to your ear. On the other side of the line you hear nothing at first besides heavy breathing. It stands the hairs on the back of your neck.

You allow the silence to linger between you and the caller, just listening for the only noises you can hear. A deep chuckle emits in a raspy tone.

“Hey, we’re not finished yet,” the ominous, taunting threatening voice speaks.

“Who is this?” you question with the thrill knowing you’re asking the most silly question.

It’s most definitely some form of prank based on how active and inventive Woodsboro is. You wonder how often people play the part of acting as Ghostface for shits and giggles. But from an out of townie like yourself, something like this seems so cool to you. Not annoying whatsoever. 

Taehyung has already entered the bathroom, leaving the door open just in case you change your mind or not if you choose to join him, while you sit on the edge of the bed. The shower is running and one can only assume Taehyung has stripped down to his bare nakedness and submerged himself under the cascade of water by now.

“Who do you think this is?”

You entertain the person on the other line. “The most obvious answer for Woodsboro would be Ghostface. Am I right?”

“Yes,” the rugged voice replies. “Aren’t you so smart?”

“I’m a big fan,” you giggle.

“Do you like scary movies?”

“Of course I do. Why do you think I’m here?” you laugh at the classic phrase being spoken to you. Before you allow the other person to respond, you fake yawn out of boredom. “This is so unoriginal. You’ve lost my interest already.”

In a warning tone, the voice threatens, “Don’t hang up on me!”

“It’s late and I'm tired,” you claim before placing the phone down on its receiver. 

You sigh as you stare at the device on the bedside table. There’s plenty of spooks to go around all day tomorrow, you don’t need anymore right now.

A knock on the door alerts you, Taehyung can even hear it from inside the bathroom. Creeping up to the peephole, you see nobody on the other side of your door. Slowly, you back up making a disgruntled noise.

“Who is it, baby?” Your boyfriend shouts from the shower.

“It’s nobody,” you respond loud enough for him to hear. As you pass by the bathroom, you see Taehyung’s head poking out from behind the shower curtain – wet locks and everything. You give him a brief smile and shrug, raising your hands up. “I didn’t see anyone. Probably just a prank.”

“Huh,” Taehyung mulls over it for a second. He tilts his head with a wink, “You want to join me now?”

It’s hard to resist his innocent persuasion. His invitation of a nice hot, steamy shower is so inviting.

“Sure,” you smile.

You take one single step in the bathroom before your hotel room’s phone goes off again. You stare at Taehyung with confusion and alarm. 

“Just unplug it from the wall.”

“Yeah… yeah,” you laugh.

You’re sure to disconnect the phone by the wire as well as locking both locks on your hotel room door. You shimmy off your clothes on your way into the bathroom, placing the towels nearby for when you need to grab them. Taehyung hums a melodic tune to himself as he washes his face under the showerhead as you peel open the curtain.

Your eyes scan the expanse of his wet nude body with a warm smile. He feels the cool draft enter his vicinity and turns to glance at you after wiping his eyes clean from the water.

“You alright?”

“Mhm,” you swallow. “Just surprised how dedicated some fans get with this place.”

Walking hand-in-hand with your boyfriend, you stroll along with some pep to your step. Thrills and shrills send signals throughout your nerves and you can tell it’s affecting Taehyung the way it does to you. Excitement and adrenaline. Together, the both of you walk along the line of the road flooded with lingering sight-seers all prepared to enter in the biggest hot spot of the night.

261 Turner Lane.

The location with the record of most murders and attacks know to Woodsboro – in regard to Ghostface. Taehyung begged you to visit the Woodsboro Hospital earlier this morning after your first night at the hotel. A place where several people, like Jill Roberts, Sidney’s cousin, and Sheriff Dwight ‘Dewey’ Riley had died. You two even managed to visit the Reed’s residence where Kirby and her friends were attacked nearly 10 years ago! However, that place was more off limits to civilians and most definitely did not want horror-nerds, like yourself, sniffing around with nostalgia.

All the sites are small, but hold so much weight and horrific memories for many. You can sympathize with those who are haunted by the past and understand that their community has gone through so much. But the geekiness of your love for horror and minor obsession with understanding serial killers and motives can almost desensitize the world around you. 

Considering how it’s not just you, or Taehyung, who enjoy these types of things. But with how your eyes scan around every inch that Woodsboro has to offer, the exhilaration of it all continues to live because of the enthusiasts!

Merchandise, candy, confetti, bags, and balloons scattering around the town as if it’s a carnival for the one and only Ghostface. People of all ages dress up in the legendary costume and perform reenactments or shows. Even you, who is caught up in the mix of fun and games, walk around with a matching customized bracelet that you wear proudly with Taehyung. It sports a small trinket with your initials engraved into it right next to a hanging silver dagger that represents a buck knife.

For slicing and dicing… and also to constitute Ghostface's traditional weapon of use.

You cycle through your camera for all the photos and footage the two of you captured from your previous day excursions, making mental notes on what you should talk about on your next podcast after the two of you leave this town. Taehyung makes sure to point out everything he wants in the camera as well as he looks over your shoulder. With his fingers still intertwined with yours, he pulls your arm closer to his body so he can hold you closer to him.

“How much do you think we’ll be able to see? I tried to stay away from the internet so I didn’t get spoiled with anything,” He questions as his eyes look toward the front of the line you two stand in.

“I would hope for everything,” you speak softly. “It would be worth it to show off the entire house. It looks like they have hosts who direct you around,” you point over to a worker wearing a red tucked in button-up and dark dress pants.

The two of you admire the view of the side of the house, showing how the line you stand in extends with at least 50 bodies or more. But the home is dressed up nicely as if it was any other house you can see in Woodsboro. Beautiful flowers trail along the edgings of the road such as daffodils, red lilies, and purple agapanthus’. Tall brushes and thick weeds compliment the tan exterior of the house and deep green shingles. Shrubs and cobblestone walkways. Your mind paints a picture of all the gruesome and alarming actions that once took place here.

A little fountain in the middle of the entrance alley is drained of its water, showing off the rustic residue. Eerie music fills the air, played to entertain the ears of those who are visiting this walk-through house. Group by group, you see people filter into the front entrance of the notorious home. Eagerly, you and Taehyung step closer and closer and await your turn.

At the gate, a working crew at a small stand pulls out pieces of papers to fill out. Files to keep documented for those who enter and liability checks. Your signature is needed along with demographics and contact information. You hear screams up ahead, laughter soon to follow. Lights in the house flicker on and off, but the music ellipses over the brunt of the shrieks. 

You pay a fee, nothing too expensive, for the two of you before signing your agreement. Fearlessly, both you and Taehyung allow the workers to strap on a colored bracelet to your wrists. 

“Thank you,” you two express gratitude as you step along with the rest of the crowd.

The papers serve as a waiver, giving formal structure with risk involved sections, assumptions of risk sections, law provision, and respect to state laws. The owners of the house and those involved with the business have every right to hold your papers and pull you from the attraction site. Even though this is for fun and games, the seriousness of the property comes with its own stakes.

The Macher’s house, now rebranded into the name ‘Horror House’ for the attraction, stands at 5,500 square feet. To your knowledge, there are up to 4 bedrooms residing inside the establishment. Several bathrooms, a 3-car garage, rear and front foyers, and much more. With over 290 acres of land, creek frontage, and a span of eucalyptus groves, this amazing home survives decades of dreadful history.

You follow the path along the walkway with Taehyung by your side. Securing your purse around your body so it doesn’t snag on anything while you're inside, you turn to your boyfriend who’s snapping photos of the landscape and crowd.

“No flash photography!” You hear a worker shout at the entrance of the home. They hold up a flashlight directed toward Taehyung as they address him.

“Turn it off,” you whisper-yell at him as you pull his arm down. “Let’s not get thrown out before even getting inside.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was on until I took the photo!”

“Have bags opened and ready to be checked! Pockets emptied!”

As you step up the porch stairs of the Macher’s house, you hear busy workers repeating rules verbatim. They make this as swift and nimble as possible. Taehyung passes through security first, being patted down from all sides before they allow you to step through. They search your bag and roughly touch over your arms and jacket pockets, looking for any unnecessary hidden items for the protection of the house, staff, and customers.

Inside the house, the lights flicker on a timer. Red and yellow glows illuminate the walls as some areas in the house remain dim with no light source. The two of you are guided through the main entrance of the house by your hostess. The moment you step through, a loud group of screams appear overhead on the stairs right above you. People tripping over another and laughing from being spooked by someone in a Ghostface costume who has jumped out from behind a door frame.

You grab onto Taehyung on instinct while chuckling at yourself for getting scared from the loud noise. He, too, is startled momentarily, but he flashes a smile that expresses the fever buzz his body is radiating. 

“Spooks and scares is the theme tonight!” Your hostess speaks in singsong. “Get ready to survive the fright!”

As corny as that rhyme sounds, it makes both you and your boyfriend giggle. You listen intently to the hostesses' words and fair warnings. How everything within the house is a reenactment of some sort and only serves to get your nerves jumping with fear. To be careful of your surroundings and not to stray too far away from your group. Playing in the funhouse is what you guys came here for anyways.

A loud dong resounds over the music, the clock striking an hour before midnight. Loud cheers and hollers are heard from inside and outside, everyone rejoicing with excitement.

“This shit’s so wild,” you comment with a bright look. You lean in towards Taehyung’s ear to whisper to him next, “Say, whenever we can… try recording some of the places in here without the staff seeing.”

“Already ahead of you,” he comments with a mischievous grin. His eyes flicker down to his pants pocket where his phone’s camera pops out just enough to show. In secret, he must have hit record and slid the device nonchalantly. “I’ve been recording after they yelled at me for the flash,” he laughs.

“I’m your hostess, Hallie. Please be advised that other parties are roaming around the building. So you most definitely will intermingle at some point. Please try your best to stick with me.” The petite, younger woman, adjusts her shirts’ sleeves along her wrists. Flashing the two of you the happiest of smiles.

“Can I ask,” you interject ever so slightly. “How long have you guys been running this?”

Hallie smiles with a nod, “About 4 months now. After the previous owners listed the house, it wasn’t very long for the current owner to snatch it off the market.”

“And no problems?” You quiz as you look around.

“Most furniture have been replaced with replicas just in case of damage. But it’s such a popular site, nobody has complained besides some locals.”

All three of you glance over towards a door frame in the back of the foyer. It’s hard to see but flashes of people running across the backend of the house come into view, followed by another person in a costume. 

“There’s been some renovations to the house to maintain multiple entrances and exits to allow the flow of parties to weave in and out. Ideally, throughout your walkthrough you will visit every section of the house and even the field out back. Just mind the parties around you. We usually have about 7 parties at once to keep the line moving at a decent pace.”

Taehyung wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you comfortably against him. He shifts on his feet but directs his attention to Hallie.

“I think what she’s trying to ask is if there’s been any murders because of this,” he emphazises with a gesture of his hand.

Hallie gives the two of you a cheerful smile, flashing her set of pearly whites. “None whatsoever.” She steps in closer towards the two of you, taking hold of the earpiece in her ear to muffle her next words for whoever is listening on the other end. “But between us, I think this town wants to keep the slasher story alive and well.”

You both blink at her dumbfounded, but she holds up a hushed finger before placing her earpiece back in. She clicks on her small handheld flashlight that shines a bright blue, waving it in the air towards the walls of the house.

“So let us begin our journey through the Horror House! Our group color is blue,” she references the flashlight’s light color., “So if you ever need to find me, look for my light.”

Quickly, and before Hallie leads you to the left side of the house, you whip out your phone to snap a photo of you and Taehyung. The lighting is absolutely terrible but you manage to get the quarter turned staircase and sparkling chandelier above. Taehyung presses his lips against your cheek as you grin ear to ear to show your utmost happiness.

“Happy Anniversary!” you cheer to yourself as you snap the photo.

“Phones away please,” Hallie demands as her light flashes at you. “First and final warning.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you meekly say. You shrug like how a child does when they’re in trouble.

You shove your phone back inside your purse and zip it up tight. You grimace when Hallie gives you a sharp look, but she tilts her head and opens up her arms to guide you into the next room.

The room is lit up with a dim light, covered with plenty of floorspace and loveseat couches. The fireplace displays a fake fire while smoke roams on the floor. It serves as a living space, but before you or Taehyung can geek out about it, Hallie declares that this is not the room where any murders took place.

“One of the most unused areas of the house happens to be right here!” She exclaims. The celinings are tall, giving the room a larger feeling to it. Over in the corner stands a mannequin of Ghostface in an attacking pose, decorations surround it while the large mirror behind it shows your reflection.

Another round of terrific screams come from another part of the house and you can’t help but grip Taehyung’s hand tighter in your hold. The spooky aura of the house, and knowing the history, fuels your brain into all the acts.

“Now if you follow me this way, we’ll be entering the one area where Sidney and Stu battled out a fight, resulting in Sidney breaking a potted plant over Stu’s head and dropping an entire television on him!”

Hallie walks through first, pointing out a replicated television set standing in the corner of the room in front of some more couches. A coffee table is littered with candy, snacks, and drinks – as if there was an active party going on. You and Taehyung walk in right after her, only to get your first fright of the night when an actor jumps out from the side of the doorframe and grunts at the two of you.

“Ah!” You yelp but immediately slap your hand over your chest from laughing. 

“Fuck!” Taehyung curses as his arm briefly comes up in defense.

The actor maintains character, hardly speaks but stays menacing enough. They hold up their false dagger, moving their arm in an attacking motion as both you and Taehyung maneuver around the floor without stumbling over another. The lights flicker with the beat of the sinister music, all to help create a fun horror-themed house.

“God this is so good!” You declare as you step around a few broken pieces of chairs as you get into the next room. 

Your eyes scan around every inch and every corner of the beautiful house, given what little lighting you have to work with. You wish you can take it all in at your own pace, record things you want when you want to. But you need to be crafty and careful. So any chance you get, when Hallie or any other floating bodies of people aren’t looking your way, you try to fish through your purse to pull out your phone and capture a photo.

Taehyung on the other hand, is still rocking his secret pocket recording. You can tell he’s turning his body more often than so – probably to get as much footage as possible without being caught. 

“This is the main attraction here! The climatic kitchen!” Hallie walks forward and around a small island table, tapping her hands on the counter like beating on a drum. “Where chicken and vegetables aren’t the only things that got cut up in here.”

You give Hallie a pensive glare, nearly shaking your head the moment the words left her lips.

“Eh,” she shrugs. “You’re right. That punchline isn’t that funny.”

Taehyung admires the white countertops and ocean blue walls which match the tiles above the stove. The window by the kitchen sink has blood splatters across it, red liquid dripping down into the silver stainless steel. Popcorn pieces are littered everywhere, while an old-timey phone hangs off the hinge of its cable.

“This is so fucking cool,” he comments. “Everything! All right here.” He stands with his arms outstretched. “This whole house has so much history! I can practically feel it.” He’s astonished but shows all his gratitude through giddiness. “Can you even imagine all the thoughts and emotions of the people who have gone through here?”

You step close to him as you check out a calendar up on the wall. It’s from 1996, September, with dates circled and highlighted and has written notes over which days and approximate times people have been attacked here during the first massacre.

“Too bad it’s not the 28th anymore and it’s the 29th. We’d be here exactly 26 years from when the first reign of Ghostface came to an end.”

“Yeah, but,” Taehyung nudges you in the arm. “It is our anniversary. So it’s still special.”

A loud thud from upstairs causes all three of you to jump in your spots. You whip your head around to look at Hallie who is already making her move towards the front foyer again, waving the two of you on with her.

“Let’s head upstairs, shall we?”

You wrap around to the front once again to see a new party of people entering the house. Hallie steps besides the stairs and points upward, telling the two of you to walk up. Taehyung shows no hesitation, but for you, you notice how there’s fake blood smeared all over the carpet of each stair. With your naked eye, it looks fresh. It is not until the time you reach the top of the stairs do you notice that the red paint was still wet and now tracks from your footprints.

Before you can question anything, you pivot and are ushered up another set of small stairs. The second story of the home has plenty of space. There is a nice little balcony area over the foyer that you can look down in, peeping at the groups of people who roam around the floors. You spot another actor walking around in a costume creeping behind a straggler, waiting any second for them to scare the person.

“Baby, let’s go.”

Taehyung pats you on your back as he passes you, following the hostesses lead into the master bedroom. There’s more decor dressing the house even scarier, and this time, the entire room is flipped upside down. The bed sheets and comforter are ripped apart, feathers from the pillows fallen on the floor. 

It’s staged as if someone ransacked the entire room. It helps seeing a stuffed life-sized doll laying on the floor in a pile of blood. Both you and Taehyung express admiration over the scene, feeding into the question Hallie hits you with.

“Now, what might have happened here?”

“Looks like a murder,” Taehyung replies evidently. 

Suddenly, a mysterious Ghostface appears from the master bathroom with his knife wielded high into the air. They step towards Hallie quickly, bee-lining their way straight to her to attack her.

She screams, and you respond with the same noise back. Ghostface digs his knife into her backside as Hallie stares at you and your boyfriend with shock. Her flashlight drops to the ground as Ghostface stabs her again.

You immediately back up, walking over the display of horror in the center of the room and walking over to another exit of the master suit.

“Holy shit,” you mutter as you’re grabbing Taehyung by the jacket to yank him with you. “Hallie?” you question as you watch her and Ghostface interact.

Your hostess drops to her knees before finally landing on the ground, face first into the carpet. While Ghostface stands there, head tilting to look over at the two of you as they clean off their knife with their gloves.

“Tae, move,” you urge while pulling on him more. You continue to back up until you see the steps to the stairs. They lead right to the ones that come from the foyer.

Ghostface begins to stalk you, rushing over to attack. Taehyung follows you as you pull him along urgently, frantically.

“This isn’t right. No, no, no,” you scream. You attempt to turn to run downstairs, but you nearly slip from trying to stop yourself. A group of people are in the middle of walking up the stairs, preventing you from going down. Taehyung hoists you back up, making you run to the other side and searches for the nearest door to run through.

“Run!” He shouts to anyone who can hear. Taehyung looks over his shoulder to see if Ghostface is still chasing you, and for a fact – they very much are!

Taehyung nearly pushes you through the far end door, closing it tight behind him. He searches for the locks, even moves a piece of furniture in front of the door quickly out of pure instinct. Your heart races erratically, but you turn and look at Taehyung with surprise.

You begin to laugh out loud, holding your head with your hands. Looking around, you notice the two of you are barricaded in a storage area. Like an attic of some sorts.

“This is hilarious!” you chuckle. You move around some useless knick knacks storage on top of some boxes. “We just got chased by a Ghostface!”

Taehyung nervously goes along with your lighthearted giggles, until his nerves bubble down into full blown laughter. He notices he has scratched his hand during the mix of everything. A cut annoying enough to draw blood.

“Yeah! Ha –” he runs his other hand through his hair, “– That was really funny.”

A bang hits the door and the two of you jolt in your place. The door gets hit again with a louder thud. When you notice the handle jingling, both Taehyung and you back up slightly. More shrieks and hollars are made from outside the door but you stay staring at it, begging for the door not to open.

When the door bursts open, but is blocked by the furniture Taehyung placed in front of it, you see the mask of Ghostface sticking through with their arm. Swinging wildly with their knife in hand. It clinks and digs into the wood of the door.

You walk backwards, deeper into the storage area and run over to one of the windows to look outside. You begin hitting your hands on the glass, screaming for help as you look down at the line of people still waiting to get inside of the house. The music is blaring and screaming coming from this house is practically normal – so your cries for help go completely unnoticed.

Taehyung grabs you from your shoulder, pulling you back as he calls your name.

“Y/n, Y/n! Look,” Taehyung points out another door that was hidden from view. Maybe one of the many renovations Hallie had spoken about earlier. “Come, come!” He begs as he holds onto your hand and leads you towards it.

He pried the door open after pushing boxes away from it. Stairs that lead down below welcome you, and happily the two of you take them. The darkness makes it impossible to see, but once you hit the last step into the new room, you realize you’re just outside the kitchen nook area.

“This house is so confusing,” you comment. “All the rooms practically intertwine with another!”

“The garage!” Taehyung pulls you with him, leading you to the door that’s been cracked open. Together, you push it open and step down the three wooden stairs. You notice a party with their host, they turn to you in shock. “Ghostface is chasing us!” Taehyung shouts as he practically drags you to the one open garage door. 

You see the darkness of the night outside in the driveway. The sooner you’re out of the house the quicker you will feel safe. At least that’s what runs through your mind as you stumble over yourself as you rush out of the garage.

“Relax guys!” The host says. He flashes his green light at you as his hand comes up to halt your running spree. “It’s just a part of the show! What’s your color?”

Taehyung stops the two of you in the middle of the driveway. You’re now at the back of the house, away from the long line of horror enthusiasts, and can see golf carts set up for roaming the many acres of the backyard.

You grip onto his arm, holding tightly as your heartbeat races inside your chest. Wide eyed, you stare at the other host and the group they’re guiding.

“We’re blue,” Taehyung comments. He sounds slightly winded, but he hides it well when speaking back to the worker.

The host reaches for a walky-talky from his back pocket, pressing the button to speak into the voicebox.

“I have the blue party at the garage. Can the host of blue come here?”

Taehyung wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against him as you two stand aimlessly. There’s an uproar inside the house, joyous laughters and shouts for help. It rounds every 30 seconds or so. But it begins to sound unnerving. Maybe the horror funhouse is really scaring you.

“Hey,” Taehyung whispers as he runs his hands along your arm. “Not to psych you out or anything… but look where we’re standing right now.”

You glance around, seeing a boat covered with a tarp. A concrete walkway leads to the back desk of the house to your right and a row of lights line up beside it. It doesn’t hit you until Taehyung speaks the words “doggy door” to you that you realize exactly what you should be looking at.

The middle garage door is the place where Tatum Riley was found crushed at the top. Stuck between the dog door and the top of the garage.

You move around Taehyung to sneak a quick photo of the area. With enough space, you back up and capture the scene – making sure to capture Taehyung in the frame.

From the roof, windows from above peer out of the building. Inside one of those windows stands a person with the mask on, staring down at you. It raises a knife to the glass, tapping on it. 

Taunting you. 

Teasing you.

Minutes have gone by before someone shows up. Thankfully that person is Hallie, your original hostess. She steps into the garage from the kitchen, like how Taehyung and you had just done before.

“Jesus, where have you guys gone to? You’re so fast!” She exclaims with a huff.

“Wha-what?” You reply. “You were attacked!”

“It was an act,” she reassures. “Only to scare you! I see that it worked.” She laughs. Hallie turns her body left and right to show you her well being, “See, I’m unharmed. It’s all good.”

“I mean, I guess it is a funhouse. We just got caught up in it,” Taehyung mumbles. “I even thought it was real for a second there.” His deep chuckle makes you feel a little at ease.

“So are we ready to continue the house tour? We have more bumps and scares ahead of us.”

You stare off into space as your mind continues to think about all the places and things you’ve seen. Ever since that small scare at the Macher’s house, you can’t help but shake the feeling of what it could have been like for all who were murdered by someone behind the terrorizing mask that haunts this town. It feels almost too real for a reenactment, even though your hostess was perfectly fine in the end. Taehyung managed to get scraped in the process of running throughout the house while your shirt, which you didn’t notice until you got back to the hotel, ended up having a small tear in it. But that’s what a horror themed funhouse could do to those who enter. Freak them out. Psych them up.

Your fingers fiddle with another while you listen haphazardly to Taehyung recording himself for the podcast in the corner of your hotel room. He goes on and on about how much he’s enjoyed himself and shows off a handful of his memorable trinkets he’s bought from a few item shops. His freshly washed hair is combed back and away from his face; one small piece of tissue paper stuck to the blood patch on his upper lip – he must have cut himself shaving.

Gripping the small dangling chain of your matching bracelet, you twist it around playfully. You love how it’s customized and you also love how it’s something you two share. This horror-road trip the two of you set out on for your anniversary week is such a lovely occasion. Taehyung surprisingly took most of the reins for planning, which secondhandly makes you feel a tad bit ashamed for not being able to contribute as much.

However, you and only you know how to make Taehyung feel the most special. Give him the happiness that he deserves. Even when he’s the one who spoils you the most. 

As you look over and watch him geek out over his favorite serial killer story, you can’t help but smile with awe. He has no idea how you’re watching him so intently. Applauding every boast and passionate joy he releases through his words. Taehyung has no clue what you have secretly planned for him for tonight.

And your entrance means everything.

Quietly, you gather a bag of goodies by your side – making sure not to draw Taehyung’s attention when you hushly pack a few extra items into it. You glance once, twice, just to make sure he’s staying indulged with his video editing.

You don’t need to announce that you’re heading to the shower. But you’re hoping Taehyung understands your need to lock the bathroom door behind you. With grace, you twist the nozzle for the shower on, waiting for the temperature of the water to blast the warmth you desire.

“In and out,” you mumble to yourself. “Don’t take forever.”

With the time ticking, you bath yourself faster than usual. Every inch of your skin is loathed up with your soapy washcloth and each stand of your hair touches shampoo and conditioner. When it comes to shaving, you choose to take your time. There’s no point of rushing in a haste and accidentally nipping yourself somewhere.

You prep and prime the rest of your body once you exit the shower. Running your mouth through with some fresh mouthwash, you multitask with lathering lotion all over your skin.

For the finale, you place some light make-up on your face. Highlighting your eyes and illuminating your cheeks with complimentary colors for you. 

A wicked smile stretches across your face once you pull out your black lingerie from your bag. It was perfectly hidden with the Ghostface mask you’ve stored along with a retractable plastic dagger. You slip on piece by piece, lace and fishnets covering over your body in a sinful and sinister kind of way. Your thong sits tight across your waist, and the garter belts from the corset piece you now wear clips onto the stockings on your thighs.

“Shit,” you look around the counter of the sink for your phone. You must have left it on the bed while you snuck away here. No time to take some sexy Ghostface mirror selfies without ruining the surprise first.

“Baby, are you ok in there?” Taehyung's concerned voice calls out from behind the door.

You’re quick to interrupt, cutting any further talk off as you sinch the last belt over your waist.

“I’m good! Just thought I dropped something down the sink, but I didn’t!”

This is the first time you’ve worn something this elegant and fancy for Taehyung, with a new twist to it. The mask you hold in your hand lifts over your face, covering the top of your head before it settles in place.

The sheer black material of the eye holes only dims your vision slightly; but other than that you can see most of everything clearly.

You turn off the bathroom light before you open the door to return to Taehyung. With the fake dagger in one hand and your other on the handle, you hold your breath until you finally are ready to step through.

Finding yourself on the wall, you slant against it in a saucy pose. Lowering yourself just enough to look like you’re nearly ready to continue slipping. Your boyfriend doesn’t hear you at first, not with his nose driven deep into his cell phone and thumbs tapping away on the screen.

“Hey babe,” you tap lightly against the wall with your knuckles. “I want to play a game.”

Your outfit is hiked shorter than usual, showing off more lower half and making you appear all the leggier as your fishnet stockings welcome Taehyung’s eyes. The black lingerie calls to him, even the added Ghostface mask to top it all off. Your breasts are held firm against your chest with how your corset fits. Shaping you in such a beautiful and complementarity way. You wiggle your fake weapon at him as you drag the tip of it down between your chest to your navel. Forcing his eyes to follow your every move.

And how could he focus on anything besides you right now? 

The buzzing of his phone in his hand doesn’t register to him. The noise on the television doesn’t distract him. The only thing his attention is on is how godly, how gorgeous, you look right here.

Right now.

“B-Baby?” His jaw drops. You’ve rendered him nearly speechless as his mind processes how completely stunning and mouthwatering you are. “Is this for me?” He smiles with amusement.

You nod your head slowly, using the knife to trail down your thigh and up between them. Lightly toying with the idea of it touching you in your naughty bits.

“Do you like it?” You lift yourself off the wall. Slowly you walk towards your dumbfounded boyfriend as sexy as you can, swaying your hips with each step. “I thought this could be a nice little treat for our anniversary, babe.”

“Oh, this is most definitely a nice little treat,” he comments as he licks his lips. Taehyung places his phone down on the coffee table in front of him. “Look at you!” He exclaims with a wide grin. “Look at this fucking outfit, I mean… fuck me, wow!”

He praises with excitement and wide eyes. Taehyung practically eats you up from head to toe.

“Thank you, I spent a lot of time thinking about how to woo you.”

“I’m howlin’ for you,” he jumps up from his chair. “Are you trying to kill me with that outfit?”

“Get the camera,” you flash him a smile.

Taehyung grabs hold of the recording device from the coffee table. Barely able to click it on, he covers the lens when he talks with you.

“This isn’t going on YouTube,” he murmurs with a nervous laugh.

You make your way over to your boyfriend, glide your hands up his chest and hook around his shoulders. The fake blade in your hand slowly draws lines up towards his neck. You attempt to be sexy and murderous at the same time.

“You wanna record me, babe?” You question rhetorically with seduction. As if you’re surprised he has the camera in his hand. Even though he cannot see your face behind the mask, he knows you’re giving him those sensual eyes he loves.

Taehyung focuses the camera on you, recording on play while he zooms in and out on your saucy attire. His eyes cannot leave you, mind racing with delicious thought after thought.

“Jesus, baby, you’re making me so hard. Best present ever!”

You pull his body close to yours, drag one of his hands to run up your thigh and around to the curve of your ass. Lifting your leg up, you allow Taehyung to hold you against him. His fingernails rake up your bare thighs, scratching and pulling at your skin and fabric.

His building erection becomes prominent through his shorts as you press yourself into him. To test him and to feel him.

“I can feel you,” you comment. With your might, you direct Taehyung to the edge of the bed before pushing him down to sit. His body flops enough for him to prop himself up by his elbows, looking up with you hungry and thirsty. His camera scans you from tip to toe, making sure to capture every single essence of your nightly Ghostface vibes. “I haven’t even gotten to play my game with you.”

Taehyung smiles, his teeth capturing his bottom lip. “You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”

“Oh, poo,” you mock lightheartedly. “Does Taehyung not want any of this?” you shimmy your chest just enough to emphasize your cleavage. For good measure, your hand comes up to squeeze the mound. Giving Taehyung a sight to see but also giving you a sensation you need.

Your boyfriend leans up and goes to grab at your chest, but you stop him with the dagger pointed at him. 

“Ah-ah!” You taunt, “My game.”

Taehyung laughs as he sits back and admits defeat, for now. He gives you a passive gaze but gestures for you to continue onward. He’s interested in what you want to do.

“Let’s have some trivia,” you start as you tilt your head. “But first, a couple of small rules.”

“I’m listening,” Taehyung nods obediently. 

“One, don’t interrupt,” you hold out a finger. You wiggle it at the camera that’s still on you as Taehyung raises his eyebrows at your asserting behavior. “Two, no touching!”

Taehyung deeply chuckles to himself. A challenge for him of course.

“And three,” you continue, “and this is the most important rule of them all…”

Your boyfriend shuffles himself up the bed slightly, legs spreading a smidgen wider for his growing bulge. It’s very evident through the fabric of his shorts, but you pay it no attention.

“I’m listening, baby. Tell me what it is,” he urges you on as he angles the camera.

Your knee bends into the end of the bed, pressing into the mattress where Taehyung is leaning back on. Stretching your legs open a little wider, you tease the idea of your prettiness and smooth thighs to him. The knife in your hand points towards the camera as your other hand presses into Taehyung’s chest to push him down.

“All eyes on me,” you speak beneath the mask you wear.

“God you’re so sexy…” Taehyung murmurs. His chest rises and falls with anticipation, and you already know you have him locked and loaded. “How did I get so luc –”

“– Let’s begin!” You twist the blade in your hand. “Get each question right and I'll touch myself for you. Get them wrong and well… let’s just say you won’t have a happy ending tonight.”

Taehyung’s smile never leaves his face while his eyes cannot focus on any specific part of your body. He wants to drink you all up, savior every single second of this sexy foreplay you have going on.

You hold up a single finger as you trail an invisible line above your cleavage area. It dances over each of your collar bones and up the length of your neck. A snicker escapes your throat, but the tone is more promiscuous than evil.

“I’ll give you an easy one. In the first Stab movies, which actress plays the part of the Woodsboro native, Sidney Prescott?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “Tori Spelling.”

“Yes! Very good,” you announce. Your palm grasps the mound of your tit as you feel yourself up in front of your boyfriend. Slowly, you slide your hand down the expanse of your torso down toward your hip. Making sure to outline all your curves and edges. You toy with the hemline of your panties through the sheer fabric that hangs down from your bust. “Ready for question number two?”

You watch the way Taehyung stares, rattling his brain about all the things he wants to do with you. To tease him further, your hand lands on his thigh as you guide it up toward the junction of his hips. With purpose, you avoid touching him where he’ll enjoy it the most. Letting him know you’re only centimeters away from pleasuring his cock.

“Yeah, hit me with the next one,” he murmurs. You can tell his voice is going softer as he stays focused.

“What was the name of the first book Gale Weathers wrote?”

You turn the dagger in your hand to drag the handle across your thigh. Bringing it up towards your clothed cunt that you keep spread open as your knee continues to bend into the mattress. Tilting your head, you let out a sweet “hmm?” noise towards Taehyung who is gawking at the way you decide to use your prop.

“Uh, uhm…”

“C’mon, babe. I know reading isn’t your forte… but a Ghostface fanatic should know this as well!”

“Isn’t it the Woodsboro Murders?” he looks up to you briefly for affirmation. There’s a sweet innocence to his eyes, clouded within the lust that pools in there.

“Ah? Is that your final answer?” you chuckle as you place your other knee onto the bed to now tower your boyfriend. With force, you make sure he’s pinned flat on his back.

“Why do you make it sound like it’s wrong?” he quizzes you as he places the camera to the side.

“Oh, because it is,” you interject quickly. With nothing else said, you take Taehyung’s answer and discipline him. “It’s Wrongly Accused. Based on the Maureen Prescoutt murder.” You unwrap a piece of black fabric off of your outfit, long enough to wrap around Taehyung’s head to cover his eyes. You’ve chosen to blind him from seeing you for now, since his answer was incorrect. He needs to be penalized somehow.

“Baby,” he whines. “I want to see you!”

“Get the questions right and maybe you will,” you threaten.

You grab ahold of his hand and drag it close to your warm body. Giving Taehyung something to visualize, you guide his palm across your fishnet leggings and up the side of your hip. He hums satisfaction, it matches the lopsided grin plastered to his face.

“Next question. Which college did Sidney and her friends get attacked at back in 1998?”

You shuffle your body forward, placing both of your legs around Taehyung’s frame as you sit on his lap. His hard-on pains with lack of touch beneath you, but your added warmth and friction helps the slightest. Taehyung’s free hand taps on his chest as he ponders the question while the one you escort up your body touches and feels you.

“Windsor College.”

“Correct!” You praise as you sit further down onto his bulge. With excitement, you bring Taehyung’s hand up to have access to your breasts. You moan softly when he takes the lead and gropes you across your chest. Making sure to feel and fondle both of them equally and with full appreciation.

“I like this game,” he comments with a gruffier voice.

“I bet you do, babe.” You lean down toward your boyfriend's face, smiling under the mask at how pretty and complacent he is under your ministrations. You allow him to continue to tug and toy with your tits, plucking at your nipples through the material when he can. But you take a fist full of his hair with your hand and hold him to the mattress. A little roughness wouldn’t hurt him. “Here’s another for you,” you hold up your fake knife against his throat. “In Stab 6, what images did the Facebook stalker use to catfish Trudy?”

Taehyung chuckles once again, tilting his head to the side as you place more pressure with the grip on his hair.

“Channing Tatum’s Abercrombie photos. I’m sure you’d enjoy those too.”

“Not as much as I enjoy you,” you smile. 

Your grip releases from him as you settle back on your heels. His hand chases you, but you’re fast to move it down lower. Between the apex of your thighs. Taehyung hums at the contact and from how damp you already feel. He skillfully pets along your folds from the outside of your thong, tracing patterns across your lady-bits.

You take a moment to relish in the feeling. It nearly distracts you from your game because of how much you want him to sink his fingers inside of you.

The two of you share a warm giggle with another, noticing how your hips start to move with the pace of his fingers.

“I thought you were supposed to touch yourself?” Taehyung teases.

“Well,” you breathe. “I changed my… mind.”

Taehyung grins, “I wonder why…” he acts coy. His knuckles graze across your clit through your panties and it forces you to hold yourself by placing a hand on his chest. “Do I get another question?”

Your breath hitches, it’s becoming unbearable to breathe under your mask. You clear your throat, gripping a fist full of his shirt, “Yes. Last year, what was the name of Sheriff Judy’s son who was murdered mere minutes after her at their residence here in Woodsboro?”

A fingertip trails on the outside of your thong, tickling you in the process. Taehyung slips his digit underneath, touching your slippery pussy. It glides smoothly, easy for him to slide further to touch you deeper.

“Fuck. Tae,” you softly groan.

He reaches around with his other hand, testing how far he can go while you still hold the dominant position. His palm grips your bare ass, weaving through the pieces of fishnet leggings before ripping a piece of it apart. 

“Y-Your answer?” you breathe.

“Kiss me,” he demands.

“That’s not an answer,” you laugh. You release a moan when you feel his finger twist and dip into the entrance of your pussy, slotting knuckle deep. “Tae –”

“Wes,” he whispers as he leans up. With a growl, he snakes his arm around your hips and pulls you closer to him. Taehyung nudges his face in the nook of your neck, breathing heat against your skin while he deeply chuckles. “Fuck this game,” he speaks against your neck, leaving a sensual kiss against it. The whine that escapes your lips from feeling his teeth lightly dragging along your sweet spot fills the empty room. It’s louder than anything playing on the television behind you.

Taehyung pulls you in a humping-motion against his hand that’s lodged between your thighs. He flicks against the walls of the inside of your pussy, searching for your sensitive areas.

You drop your prop as you frantically pull up Taehyung’s t-shirt, hauling it over his head to undress him as fast as possible. You curl your fingernails against his shoulders as Taehyung nibbles your skin, causing goosebumps to rise and fall.

Despite every rational part of your brain reminding you that your game is at stake, you couldn’t care less with the result anymore. You and Taehyung had your fun, even though it was brief, and now you’re ready to get down to business.

His skin is warm against yours as you push him down with you following. You rip off your mask, tossing the pathetic item to the side and appreciate a nice cool breeze of fresh air hitting your face. Sweat dampens around your hairline as your lips connect to his. You rush to remove the fabric around his eyes, using your fingers to rake along the roots of his hair.

You rock back and forth on his finger, begging for him to enter another one. Taehyung follows your lead in the make-out, tongue chasing yours as you dive deeper inside of his mouth. You groan in unison, smiling as your teeth clink with how eager the two of you are.

“You’re so hot,” he comments in between breathless kisses.

Between the sensations of his deft finger, how hungrily he eats at your mouth, and how smooth and naked he feels against you already, you feel like you’ve entered heaven.

“Oh, Tae,” you hum. Your breath comes out labored, electrified.

Briskly, you reach down between your bodies and slip your hand around the elastic of his night shorts. Your movements are quick and frenzied as you grip onto his length, feeling the heavy girth bare. Taehyung voices a choked moan, surprised with the sudden touch. Your wrist flicks as much as it can in your compromising position, enough to run your palm up and down his cock.

You feel the heat racing to your face as Taehyung slides a second finger inside of you, rubbing in a come-hither gesture. Your head nearly falls down against his shoulder as you attempt to not lose control of your body, but the feeling is so toe-curling good!

With desire, you look up through half-lidded eyes. Lust fuels your entire body, you can tell it affects Taehyung too.

“I want you in me,” you speak with kiss ridden lips. “Fuck me like this, babe.”

Taehyung wastes no time shimmying his shorts down far enough to release his cock between the two of you. His chest heaves with each shallow breath he takes. A hand comes around to playfully slap and hungrily massage at the flesh of your ass as he hoists you higher and angles himself below you.

“Move up for me, baby.” He turns his head toward you, a smile laced on his lips. Without another word, he leans forward and captures your lips in a bruising kiss while his hand rips at the thin thong that you wear. You can hear the tear audibly, but somehow it turns you on knowing how the desire within Taehyung is taking over. “Let me fuck you in this pretty little Ghostface outfit.”

You lean up for him, biting down on your lower lip as you look at Taehyung clumsily shuffling himself under you. His eyes stare at your bare, dripping pussy. Likes the way it shines with your wetness.

“That’s right, come sit on me,” he beckons as his dick taps against your pelvis. “See how sharp my weapon is,” he jokes in a sexy manner.

Cracking up with laughter, you lift enough to feel him at your entrance. His bulbous mushroom head feels so nice and smooth, ready to glide right in.

Your hand comes out to grip around Taehyung’s throat, a surprise for both you and him. Yet something in the back of your mind tells you that this is good. Something he may enjoy with your power-play move tonight. Slowly, and only lightly, do you squeeze around the column of his neck, raising your eyebrows as you anticipate his sign of protest.

You take him in with one movement, hissing at the sensation the moment you sit flat on his lap. He fills you full, your cunt thanks you with vibrating pulses around him. Allowing a few moments and testing thrusts to go by, you adjust accordingly. Until you’re ready to go faster.

Harder.

Every bounce has his dick reaching deeper inside of you, opening you wider and dragging against every inch of your velvety walls. You search for his eyes when you tighten your grip around his neck, but you see nothing but pure enjoyment on his face. Taehyung moans as his hands help lead you with each swivel of your hips. His mouth is parted, eyes fluttering shut with exhilaration shooting through his nerves.

“Shit,” he seethes through his teeth. “Baby slow down, I'm going to cum.”

But you don’t listen to his plea. You want him to cum. Bust his nut and lose control because of you. So you set yourself, pushing harder down onto his cock and riding your boyfriend for all he’s worth. Even selfishly rutting your clit into his pelvic bone to get yourself off.

You notice the way Taehyung’s eyebrows downturn with a spike of fury. “Baby,” he warns as his voice gets cut off from you moving the hand on his neck to his mouth. You cover his lips, hushing him from putting up a fight.

Though, Taehyung does not take a liking to that.

Within a snap of a finger, Taehyung hoists his body up enough to gain an advantage on you. He twists around fast, pushing you to the side as he slips out of your grasp. Taehyung’s hands move you around, holding you with your chest against the mattress as your ass stays up.

“Tae, wait!” you laugh and beg. You try to wiggle out of the position, but he pins you down by your arms. “I want to make you cum!”

“Oh, trust me,” he huffs. “You and only you will make me cum.”

Taehyung takes a handful of your ass before spreading your cheeks open. He stands behind you before inserting himself, sliding his cock in from a brand new angle.

You groan out loud, pulling your legs together. The mattress’s sheets ball in your fists as Taehyung thrusts inside of you at a steady pace. Your body shifts up on the bed, but keeps getting dragged back down against Taehyung’s lap. He’s amazed how fast you fall apart with your whole body tensing against him.

The small moans you try to hide are highly cherished by him. Fuels Taehyung to keep pressing forward and pile-drive his cock into you.

“Oh fuck, fuck!” You curse with your face pressed down. You purposely muffle your noises to not disturb the neighboring guests in the other rooms. The phone is still unplugged so at least you won’t be receiving any noise complaints through there.

You encourage Taehyung with the higher moans. It tells him to fill you up, go harder and faster all at once. His cock starts to twitch as he draws near to his release, ready to burst his entire load all because of you.

“Do it with me,” he demands as his cock dives deeper into you. His pelvis slaps hard against your backside, hoping to force you to your orgasm. “I can feel you tightening up, baby. Cum for me. Show me how this slutty Ghostface cums.”

You turn your head to the side to gasp for fresh air. Through your lashes it’s not hard to tell that the camera is still on the two of you, now performing a surprise sex-tape. The thought crosses your mind and it makes you curious if Taehyung has noticed as well.

“Babe,” you whine with the pressure of his dick inside of you, “Babe the camera?”

You can hear the smile in his chuckle when he reaches for the recording device. Taehyung still maintains his pace while now capturing a new view. From the back, the screen records your entire backside and how his lengthy cock slithers in and out of your folds. Your black lingerie compliments you so beautifully, Taehyung never wants to forget about it.

The slapping from skin on skin resounds so loudly, almost covering the noise from the television. It only quickens when Taehyung sets into another drive.

He calls you by your pet name, grinning as you mewl over the size and speed of his cock. He compliments you through the camera while one hand holds you tight by the hip.

“Touch yourself,” he commands. “Reach down there and play with yourself.”

You obey, slithering your fingers between your legs and begin rubbing circles against your swollen clit. Your teeth bite a mouthful of the sheets below you as Taehyung fastens his pace, matching the eagerness of your digits.

“Mmf!” you groan as a build up inside you finally shatters. Cracking like a whip against your nerves and shooting sparks of pleasure throughout you. Your back arches harshly, almost knocking Taehyung off his balance as you press back into him. Cunt so eager to get fucked.

The camera drops to the side of the bed as your boyfriend firmly places his other hand around your thigh, anchoring himself to your body as you ride out your orgasm. He holds you against him, dick submerged as deep as he can go as he stills. Shifting his hips ever so slightly as his cock quivers as cum spurts out the tip, dressing your cervix and inner walls.

“Mm, yeah,” he voices with a slack jaw. His hips continue to roll into you slowly, pushing every ounce of cum into your pussy. “I wasn’t risking dirtying the outfit,” he huffs.

You continue to wiggle with the aftermath vibrations throughout your body, but you giggle nonetheless. Craning your head enough to look back at your handsome boyfriend you smile brightly.

“How kind of you,” you speak in sarcasm. “I’m sure that wasn’t the only reason why you want to cum inside of me.” You clench down on his lodged cock to tease him again, watching the way his face suddenly contorts to a painful, sensitive reaction.

“I thank you for taking birth control, for not just sexy time, but…” he anxiously confesses. “Actually, no. Right now, I really thank you for taking it.”

“I know what you were trying to say,” you comment lightheartedly. “It helps with more than just ‘sexy time’.”

“I love you,” he states to clear the air. “I really do,” he playfully pulls at a garter belt connected to your stocking and corset. It snaps back in place against your skin, “You’re my favorite person in the world.”

“I love you too,” you smile as you prop yourself up by your elbows. “And Happy Anniversary!”

Taehyung lifts the disposed Ghostface mask off the floor after he detaches himself from you. He inspects the item, flipping it back and forth. He smiles, giving you a quick eyebrow raise and sparkling look.

“My turn?” He questions as he pulls the mask over his head and allows it to sit on his face. “Let’s play some more games, baby.”

You slip on a nice early fall dress that pairs with your brown booties. The jean jacket you want to wear lounges on the back of the chair beside you, waiting to be picked up once you finish tightening a belt around your waist.

A small lingering ache rests between your legs from the previous night. Taehyung surely had fun with you. You wince when he comes out of the bathroom from his shower, noticing the bruise on the side of his forehead that has formed a small grotesque spot.

“I’m sorry again,” you inspect lightly. Stopping him in his tracks, your finger touches the bump. “It doesn’t look as bad as I thought it would though.”

“It’s alright, it’s my fault for having my head too close to yours when I tried to… you know.”

You shrug, “Yeah. Might need to give a girl a warning before touching her asshole.”

Your lips softly peck the swollen spot on his head before you allow him to continue to his clothes. Mentally, you check off all the items you have already packed back up in your bags in preparation of departure.

The television plays the local news aimlessly in the background as you scroll through your phone. You can barely hear from how low the volume is, but an alert blurts on the screen in bold red lettering.

“Breaking News! –”

“Baby, can you pull up the directions for Fairvale? The Bates Motel shouldn’t be too far from here,” your gruff voiced boyfriend askes.

You blink, trying to listen to both the conversations. “Sure. Did you gather everything from the bathroom?”

Taehyung slips his pants up his legs as a toothbrush is lodged in his mouth. Multitasking at its finest. He brushes his teeth as he dresses himself, pulling over his shirt section by section. He grunts a noise, one you know well that means he already finished putting everything together.

“Murdered! Several bodies have been found! Adding to the Woodsboro mystery of horrors. This once peaceful, now suffering community, continues to be terrorized and haunted by masked killings. Like out of some plot of a horror movie.”

Both you and Taehyung freeze at the commentary coming from the television in the corner of the hotel room. Stunned, you watch the news reporter stand in front of what seems to be the Macher’s house. Which is now turned into a funhouse for visiting horror-enthusiasts.

“No fuckin’ way…” Taehyung murmurs as he watches ideally as the images begin to show. Caution tape, police cars, and ambulances surround the reporter who holds their microphone to their mouth. “No way this shit is real.”

“We… we were there last night…” you trail off.

“Just after midnight, a masked killer wreaked havoc through an attraction site for –”

“Do you think…” Taehyung begins to speak.

“... I don’t want to think,” you stand up abruptly. “I just… Can we go?”

You glance at Taehyung nervously, but you’re already gripping your jacket and sliding it on your arms. Something spikes deep inside of you, something that shocks you. Maybe Woodsboro isn’t the best place for you to be, even though you once thought everything would be fine. Searching for your purse, you lift all of your bags in one heave.

“Hey, hey!” Taehyung tries to calm you down with a softer tone. “Hey, listen. Just wait for a second!” 

His hand grips you by your elbow, pulling you gently back toward him.

Taehyung’s hands find their way around your body, touching your face in a caressing kind of way. His thumb runs over the curve of your cheek while he looks into your frantic eyes.

“It’s ok to feel freaked out. This is freaking me out as well,” he comments. “Don’t go running so fast. Stay with me, baby.” He tries to sooth your speeding thoughts. “We’ll leave together.”

Moodboard themed credited to: @/kth1 (me)

© All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 the ONLY places my fics are posted.

#welcome to woodsboro #bangtansorciere #bangtanarmynet #dailydaegu #thebtswritersclub #tae smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #scream au #kth1 #bts one shot #taehyung one shot #kim taehyung smut #bts x reader #btsdreamcourt #bangtan cinema: horror night

[vanillaxoshi]

Elementals Seperated - 45 second hug

Halilintar had hoped Boboiboy wouldn’t do anything that completely disregards his survival when he was gone.

Who is he kidding. This is Boboiboy, the same kid that did everything for his friends, who fought machines and weapons many times his size. Of course he would go after them. Of course he would fight Kaizo. And he actually won.

Well, too bad Fang had to face Ying and Yaya’s wrath, but he’ll live. Aliens are very sturdy after all.

It’s embarrassing really, but this is the least he could do right now. Boboiboy had prodded him about it a few times too. A little positive reinforcement should be good? He also made sure his brothers aren’t around, they’ll tease him about it til they implode or explode someday.

“After a short evaluation of your performance in the battle, I believe it’s only fitting there’s a reward for it.”. His master has a rather suprised expression when Halilintar said it. He wonders why.

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t expect you to compliment me like that” Boboiboy giggled while scratching the back of his head.

“What did you expect?”

“You usually lectured me about being reckless and all…”

“It’s true that I still want you to have more self preservation, but I’ll let it slide this time. You and your friends… You did well. So I’ll let you hug me for 4 to 5 seconds”

As soon as Halilintar looked at his master again, he regretted saying that.

“45 seconds?”

“No-“

“Too late!”

Just like that, Boboiboy now has his arms wrapped around him. The spirit of lightning could only sigh. Prying him off isn’t an option, he’s stubborn, and he doesn’t want to hurt him either. Stuck in a hug (that he doesn’t want to admit is nice) it is then.

“Alright, but you’re letting me go after 45 seconds”

“Deal”

They stayed there, both silently counting the time. Eventually, Halilintar made it known 45 seconds has passed

“Sorry about that! I just thought you could use a longer hug too”

“What makes you think that?”

“Intuition?”

“Your intuition is impulsive”

“It’s quick thinking!”

“There’s a difference between quick thinking and impulse”

Halilintar had hoped Boboiboy would have some form of survival instincts after all this time, but it seems such instincts are fickle.

For example, now. Lightning strikes carrying devastating attacks flying everywhere. With an unstable master and an uncooperative spirit, such destruction is unavoidable. No matter what damage control he tried, this is about as good as it gets. Yet, Boboiboy and Rimba, his master and his brother still pushed on.

It amazes him how impulsive, yet brave plans Boboiboy come up with are. Instead of simply waiting this time, he reached for them as well, felt the pull of the drain, and the lightning elemental was out of the blade.

Boboiboy Rimba felt a pair of arms around him, and it was indeed, Halilintar. Warmth, suprise, joy all at once. Hali is back.

They would have hugged longer if the situation allowed it, but that will have to wait. He returns to the watch where he belonged, where his brothers are waiting.

“It’s over now, Kira”

- By SP Anon, in celebration of Gur’latan arc coming to Webtoon!

Hugs

#boboiboy #xoshi asks #xoshi answers #bbb elements separated au #art #SP scenarios #have a feeling youll be here more #had to draw it.

[sweetestofchaos]

Blackthorn Ch 14 | M.YG

Pairing: Crown Prince Dragon!Yoongi x Crown Princess Impundulu!Keena  Genre: Soulmate AU | Arranged Marriage AU | Fantasy AU | Fluff | Angst  Word Count: 10.6K  Warnings: Mentions of Terminal Illness | Kidnapping | Attempted Rape | Physical Violence | Shifting | Murder | Blood | Prince Yoongi Gets His Scar Rating: 21+

My Gift To You Part 2 - The young royals sneak out of the palace and go to the night market.

a/n: Like before I will put a warning where the violence/ar starts and ends with ⚠⚠⚠. The fighting and Yoongi's eye injury will be described but I will not go into too much detail about the attempted rape.

a/n 2: As always thanks to @sailoryooons for making the banner. Thanks to @theharrowing for being the beta this chapter.

Harrow and Hali both took time out of their lives to listen to me rant and overthink about different parts of this. I made things 10x harder for myself and they both just said "stop. take a minute and rethink this. do you need shit to be this complicated? can you simplify it?" and guess what? I damn sure could and I did. So thank you so fucking much to the both of them!

a/n 3: @minisugakoobies, my darling Sunny is heaven sent! She helped me with the fight scene. So huge shout out to her!!

a/n 4: The awesome scar free Yoongi edit in the banner is made by @colormepurplex2. Character asks and the taglist for Blackthorn are always open!

Taglist: @thickemadame ​​@loisje123

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

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Prince Yoongi held out his hand and Hoseok placed something in his palm. He walked to the Princess and took her outstretched hand in his own before he kissed her knuckles. She still wore his rings on her left hand and he grinned since her right hand was bare. Silently, he raised his hand and slipped a gold ring onto the Princess’ ring finger. Her eyes widened and Prince Yoongi winked as he released her hand. She looked at the ring in awe, it was a plain gold band that split into tiny branches that held an emerald-cut smoky quartz gem the size of a lima bean.

“Shall we, my gem?”

Hidden from the eyes of the crowd, Prince Yoongi stood with Princess Keena at the base of the steps leading towards the arena. Aga and Hoseok were on high alert as the cheers from the townspeople reached the high heavens. Music played loudly, and the Princess could feel the beat in her bones. The Prince squeezed her hand lightly, brought her fingers to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“We will part for only a moment, Princess. Two blinks and you will be back by my side where you belong.” The Prince explained with a soft smile on his face as his thumb brushed over the rings on the Princess’ fingers. 

“You have nothing to fear.”

Princess Keena nodded her head and allowed for Yoongi’s hand to pull away from her own. Their fingertips bent to catch each other’s and the Prince smiled reassuringly. As his hand dropped away from the Princess, Aga and the other guards crowded around her, barricading the space with their bodies. Yoongi held his head high as he ascended the steps, his face void of emotion as the crowd's sounds and chatter became louder. 

The music switched, signaling the entrance of the Prince and once more the crowd fell silent as the eunuch spoke loudly.

“His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince Yoongi!”

The sun above caressed the Prince’s face as he emerged from the shadows, the bold colors warmed his skin as they absorbed the heat from the rays and the scales on his jaw caught in the light. A vision of raw power and perfection, just as a Prince should be. A few bodies in the crowd leaned in and whispered to each other in the stands about the Prince’s attire. It was bright and unfamiliar, a style that many (if not all) had never seen before.

The Prince stood before his parents and bowed to show his respect. The Empress’ eyes flashed gold and Prince Yoongi stood in front of his throne with his back facing it. Emperor Min motioned for his son to take his seat and cleared his throat before he stood to address the people.

“The sun shows us favor by shining us with its light! It is a most joyous day in the Min Empire, my dear subjects!” Empire Min clapped his hands together once before he folded them within his robes and smiled. “Today marks a new era for the Min Empire!”

All around everyone started to cheer, a new era meant an increase in imported goods and money. A new era was good health and longevity to all. A new era was something none of the commoners in attendance were expecting. Emperor Min sat back down and nodded his head to the eunuch to continue on.  Standing tall, the eunuch unrolled the scroll in his hand a little more and held it out in front of himself, making sure not to block his face as he read the written words.

“His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince Yoongi is to be wed in the seventh month as in accordance with the unification to the land to the east, the Escistan Kingdom. As peacetime reigns over our lands, war rides the coattails with an unrelenting force.”

The news of the Prince’s engagement was cause to celebrate. There would be a Princess in the palace, the likes of which no one has ever seen before. She was from the Escistan Kingdom, a land unknown to most of the common folk. However, at the mere mention of war the crowd started to grow uneasy. News of the West’s plight against the Escistan Kingdom was common knowledge. The foreign land had many sought-after resources, magical and null alike. An alliance with the Escistan Kingdom would open up a new trading route and bring in more wealth for the people of the Min Empire. 

“Standing beside our allies of the Escistan Kingdom to show a united front in the face of an impending war-” the eunuch paused for dramatic effect and Empress Min laughed to herself. 

“To show those in the West that we stand strong, Her Royal Highness Princess Keena has accepted His Imperial Highness’ hand in marriage!”

Upon hearing her name, Princess Keena took a deep breath in and gathered her skirts in her hands. The wind picked up and flower blossoms rode the breeze by the entrance from which the Prince first came. The Princess rolled her shoulders back and held her head high as she took the steps one at a time to reach the balcony of the pavilion where the royal family all sat. Dogwood petals danced around her as she stepped into the light and the eyes of every person burned deep in her heart. If the Prince was a vision of power then the Princess was that same vision wrapped in beauty and elegance.

The Princess squeezed her skirts and relaxed her hands before she allowed the material to fall loose. The sun greeted her with open arms while a cool breeze pushed her towards the waiting royal family in a spotted blanket of petals. In front of the Emperor and Empress, Princess Keena crossed her arms over her chest and bowed. Empress Min smiled softly at the show of respect from the Escistan Kingdom. She is proud that Keena is willing to incorporate her nation’s practices into what she has been taught during her stay in the Min Empire. 

Emperor Min bowed his head and the Princess turned on her heels to face the crowd. Prince Yoongi rose to his feet and strode over to stand by the Princess’ side while the eunuch continued his speech. He listed off the Princess' credentials, the status of her homeland, her role within her nation, her achievements, and much more. By the end of the speech, the crowd was impressed.

The Princess of the foreign nation was a woman for the people and within the Min Empire that attitude would take her far. As the young royals stood side by side, everyone took in their appearance. The Prince’s attire complemented the Princess’ in style and color. The unknown style of some of the garb was contributed to the Princess’ homeland of Escistan. A few of the women in the crowd wondered to themselves if the fabrics and styles would be something they would see sold at stalls in town at some point. Maybe not as bold in color but the style was in favor, the skirt of the Princess’ outfit looked easy to walk in.

“I give you, His Imperial Highness Crown Prince Yoongi and Her Imperial Highness Crown Princess Keena!”

Princess Keena did not miss the change of her title, the new power suddenly granted to her as the arena ruptured into loud cheers and claps. People shouted their joy and excitement as they watched the royal family all sit together. Dancers and musicians went back into the center of the area and put on a show. The Princess was surprised to see Ellarian and Kwangseon in the mix of bodies. Ellarian took the lead as she leapt and twirled with the other women while Kwangseon kept the tempo on his Janggo. Princess Keena tapped her fingers to the beat and when the Prince noticed, a smile pulled at his lips.

He leaned over and whispered in the Princess’ ear, “Are you enjoying yourself, my gem?” 

The way the sun kissed the scales on the Prince’s jaw, a mini rainbow appeared on the Princess’ neck and the Prince smiled as he nuzzled his nose underneath her ear. So close to the gland at her neck, the Prince inhaled deeply and smirked as goosebumps rose on the skin underneath him. The sweetened tang of citrus doused in honey blanketed the Prince’s mind and he purred, his inky eyes swirling with gold as he tried to pull himself away. Princess Keena rested her hand on top of the Prince’s and laced their fingers together.

“Behave, my Prince.”

The Prince growled as the Princess squeezed his hand lightly and she turned her head to face him. His nose skimmed her cheek and pressed into the corner of her mouth, she was thankful that no one was truly focused on them. Without a word, the Princess kissed the Prince’s nose and snuck a quick kiss to his lip. Ginger, spicy and warm, surged around the Princess and Hoseok coughed from somewhere in the distance.

“Focus, young ones.” Empress Min’s voice was as firm as it was teasing, just enough to pull the Prince from his muddled headspace.

“Apologies, mother.” Prince Yoongi muttered and pulled away from the Princess but he refused to let go of her hand.

The announcement celebration came to its end soon after. The royals took their leave, the Emperor and Empress arm in arm while Prince Yoongi offered his hand to the Princess. Hoseok resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his friend's display of affection while Namjoon and Seokjin giggled with each other. Aga shared a knowing look with Hoseok as the two followed the family downward. At the bottom of the steps, out of the people’s sight the Emperor and Empress embraced the young royals.

“Welcome to the family my dear,” Empress Min cooed as she cupped the Princess’ face lovingly. “You will bring a new chapter to this world and I am eager to watch it unfold.”

“Easy, deartheart.” Emperor Min placed a hand on his wife’s lower back as he stood by her side. “They still have much to learn. Let us not rush the process and-” A sudden cough interrupted the Emperor's words and he quickly covered his mouth as he fell into a fit. Empress Min rubbed his back and motioned for guards to step in.

Daehyun came forward and helped support the Emperor before Hoseok pulled a starstone from the jumeoni at his hip. He crushed the stone and blew the dust over the Emperor silently. Empress Min gave everyone a tight smile.

“Worry not, His Majesty is fine. The pollen in the air is heavy today.” 

Princess Keena nodded her head and squeezed the Prince’s hand when he didn’t respond to his mother’s words.

“Give His Majesty our regards and rest well,” Princess Keena bowed her head and the Empress smiled before she took off to her husband’s chambers with guards behind her. 

Prince Yoongi watched as his mother disappeared with a frown on his lip. A gentle pressure wrapped around his fingers and he glanced down to see that the Princess had placed her hand in his. Her fingers were so small compared to his own and he sighed as the frown melted from his face. Raising her hand to his lips, Prince Yoongi kissed the tips of the Princess’ fingers and smiled.

“Shall we walk in your garden, my gem?”

The Princess stared into the Prince’s dark eyes and squeezed his hand lightly before she tugged it down to their sides.

“It is as much mine as it is yours, my Prince.”

The grin widened on the Prince’s face and he nodded his head silently. Together, arm in arm, the young royals strolled the pebble paths, crossed the bridges over gurgling waters, and admired the colorful flowers as they walked from the palace front to the eastern wing. The place where the seventh garden, filled with Blackthorns from the Princess’ homeland, created the perfect picture of peace.

The sweet almond scent from the blackthorn blossoms filled the air and intermingled with the flowers scattered throughout. The faintest echoes of rushing water hid in the canopies of the trees and the Princess felt herself breathe for the first time today. 

All worry vanished from her body the moment she stepped foot on the lush green grass of the garden. She loved this place more than anything in the whole palace (excluding the Prince). This was a place of silent devotion, filled to the brim with a tenderness that only the young royals could truly appreciate together.

Hoseok and Aga spaced out the other guards in the garden, making sure to give the simulated couple their space. If the Prince sat on the ground with the Princess between his legs, arms wrapped around her waist as they shared whispered words, the guards turned a blind eye.

Aga gazed up into the sky and inhaled the scents of his homeland. His chest ached for a short moment before he closed his eyes and drank in the warmth of the sun. Once the Princess was wed to the Prince, Aga would go back to Escistan. He would leave the Princess to Hoseok, who in Aga’s eyes was more than capable of protecting her. He would leave Mingi as the head of the Princess’ guards and put Chan as his right hand. Together with the rest of the guards, the Princess would be safe. Standing by the Prince’s side, the Princess would be happy.

"Rete tann mwen, mon amour. Jis yon ti tan ankò." 

Aga opened his eyes at the sound of movement from his right and Hoseok was making his way over. Aga rolled his shoulders and glanced at the young lovers, lost in their own world, hidden from the many eyes of the palace.

“We must head back soon.”

Hoseok’s voice was soft and low as if he spoke any louder he would disturb the atmosphere that the Prince and Princess had created. Aga nodded his head in agreement. A luncheon was scheduled for members of the council to pay their respects to the young royals. It was within two hours and the couple parched under the tree needed to freshen up before they stood before the council members. 

Grunting, Aga made his way over to the young couple and offered the Princess his hand to help her up. The Prince stayed close by the Princess’ side as they traveled back to the palace arm in arm. They spoke in hushed whispers and the Princess’ suppressed giggles made those around them smile. How light the palace had become since the Princess’ arrival. A true breath of fresh air and eased the worry of most servants. 

Outside of the Princess’ chambers, Prince Yoongi lifted their clasped hands to his lip and whispered tender words that made a wide smile pull at the Princess’ lips. Heat warmed her face and she was quick to slip into her room, a hurried wave over her shoulder as her handmaid swarmed her. The door shut with a firm thud and the Prince sighed.

“Let’s get this over with, Hoseok.”

Prince Yoongi nodded to Aga and the other guards before he disappeared into his room beside the Princess’ two yards down. Once in his room, the Prince freed his hair from its bun and Hoseok pulled it into a low ponytail that rested against the Prince’s back. They sat on the settees and couches in silence, letting the events from earlier play in their minds.

In the Princess’ room, she was stripped of her clothing and led into the warm waters of her bathing room. Hyejin used a loofah to exfoliate the Princess’ skin before she washed away the light layer of sweat and makeup. Sweet almond and mint oils were mixed into the water creating a soothing aroma that made the Princess sink into a peaceful headspace. The Prince’s words from the garden played in her mind and she smiled to herself.

“Wait for my word. You will know when it’s time.”

For the next few hours, Princess Keena was pampered by her handmaids and dressed in a beautiful rosewater and lilac bazin brocade boubou. The sleeves were wide and flowing, creating a wing-like appearance as the Princess moved about her chambers. Her braids were piled into a high crown-like bun on the top of her head with two single braids framing her face at the sides. Butterfly and daisy-shaped meori-kkoji were played in her hair for added splendor before rouge was brushed onto her cheeks and lips. The Princess’ eyes were lined in black kohl, elegant wings drawn at the ends.

Prince Yoongi wore deep blue baji with a thick golden band at the bottom with a matching jeogori. Two four-toed dragons were stitched into the shoulders of the jeogori. The Prince’s long blonde hair wrapped and pinned at the top of his head in a black sangtugwan with his golden dragon donggot to bring attention to the two dragons that gleamed on his shoulders. Gold hoop earrings rested in the Prince’s ears and many chunky gold rings decorated his fingers. He was ready and with one final touch to her outfit, so was the Princess.

In the hall when the young royals stood before each other, the Prince smiled at the sight of his betrothed. She was a vision, pure and sweet in colors that pulled an angelic hue from her skin. The side of Prince Yoongi’s lips lifted as he noticed the familiar norigae that hung from the Princess’ hip. The white moonstone and golden tassels complemented the softer colors of the Princess’ garb and a low rumble crept from the Prince’s throat.

“Your beauty never ceases to amaze me, my gem.” 

Prince Yoongi spoke calmly as he offered his arm and Princess Keena rolled her eyes playful as she slipped her arm in the crook of the Prince’s elbow.

“I could say the same for you, my Prince. Blue is a handsome color on you.”

Hoseok cleared his throat and the Prince frowned at the interruption. Smiling, Hoseok motioned for the couple to move along.

“We need to go now, your Highness.” 

On the way to the luncheon General Daehyun informed Hoseok that the Prince’s parents would not attend the luncheon but gave their best wishes. As acting host, the Prince sat proudly in the Orlilurth Throne, and when Princess Keena moved to sit beside him in a beautiful hand-carved throne that was smaller but no less regal looking, a deep growl echoed in the hall.

The Princess stood unphased in front of the smaller throne and all eyes were on the young royals. Prince Yoongi’s eyes started to swirl with gold as he rose to his feet and took a few steps to stand in front of the Princess. Wordlessly, the Prince grabbed the Princess’ elbow lightly and guided her to the Orlilurth Throne. His hand slid down the length of her arm and their fingers linked together loosely. The command was silent, a deadly dare for those around to voice their concerns. No one moved and no one breathed as the Princess sat in the Orlilurth Throne and crossed her hands in her lap. 

Prince Yoongi huffed out a thick plume of smoke from his nose and motioned for someone to take the smaller throne away before he sat beside the Princess. After the show of dominance, official after official stood and bowed to show their respect. The vein in Hoseok’s temple was throbbing but he stayed quiet and watched as Prince Yoongi kept his face blank while Princess Keena sipped her tea. She smiled politely and listened to the spoken promises and superficial wishes of good health with tender eyes.

The people before her were not the ones who would sit in power once Prince Yoongi took the throne. Their sons, nephews, and cousins would take their place and pledge their loyalty to Prince Yoongi’s reign. For now, the young royals played their part and accepted the endless praise. Aga and Hoseok kept a close eye on everyone in the room, with so many new faces before the Princess, Aga felt on edge. His time spent in the palace consisted of training guards, war meetings, and watching over the Princess. There were many in this room that Aga had yet to meet and they could be a threat. 

Green-lentil jelly, pancakes, and sashimi were shared with the council members. Along with honey glazed duck, spiced jams, sweet breads, flan, pork dumplings, somen noodles in a tasty and creamy sesame miso soup, and much more. Dancers in elegant peony pink and baby blue hanbok performed a feather dance and kept the council entertained while musicians played music. The meeting hall soon filled with laughter and loud voices as the council members started to relax and enjoy themselves. 

Prince Yoongi paired a slice of beef with gat kimchi and cleared his throat softly, “My gem?”

The Princess pulled her eyes from the dancers and the smile that graced her face made the Prince’s neck heat as he stared at her. He held his chopstick in his hand, the end pitched a nice mouthful of food and he leaned closer to the Princess.

“Try this, I think you will like it.”

Princess Keena made sure that her sleeves were out of the way before she leaned forward and allowed for the Prince to feed to her. The meat was tender and melted on her tongue while the gat kimchi held a slight crunch before it slid down her throat. The Prince stared at her expectantly and she smiled.

“That was not the kimchi I’ve had before.”

The Prince grinned, pleased to see the Princess reach for more of the beef and gat kimchi. He informed her that it was the Emperor’s favorite type of kimchi and that his mother, the Empress, disliked it very much.

“And you, my Prince?” 

Prince Yoongi took a sip of his water and looked at the kimchi before he turned to the Princess to see that she had her own hand held out towards him. He licked his lips and leaned in, not once taking his eyes off her. As his lips wrapped around the beef and gat kimchi he winked with thin golden bands circled around his irises. Swallowing down the food, Prince Yoongi allowed for himself to move closer to the Princess, their thighs touched as his nose brushed against her temple and he purred low in his chest.

“I can think of something far superior.”

The side-eye from the Princess wasn’t missed by the Prince and he chuckled as he pulled away, his face pleased and smug as one side of his mouth turned upward. Princess Keena slowly turned to face the Prince and clicked her tongue before she spoke.

“There is a saying in my land,” Princess Keena lifted a cup to her mouth and sipped her tea. “Silans, tou, se yon lang.”

The Prince’s brows pulled together in confusion and the Princess smiled as she motioned for Aga to come to her side. “Silence, too, is a language.” 

As Aga reached the Princess’ side, she rose to her feet and bowed her head.

“I will retire for now, Your Highness. I must check on Cookie.”

The Prince watched as the Princess was led away and he laughed to himself. He could smell the Princess’ arousal the moment he invaded her space. Sitting upright, Prince Yoongi looked out at the council members and motioned for Hoseok. 

“Yes, Your Highness?” 

“Have Seokjin take over in my stead. I have prior engagements I must see to.”

Hoseok stared at the Prince for a while and sighed when his emotionless expression gave nothing away.

“As you wish.”

The Prince rose to his feet and everyone in the room quickly scrambled to their feet. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back as he looked out at the council members.

“Enjoy your meal and drink to your heart's content. This feast was a great honor to spend with all of you here today. As the great ones before me, I wish you all a good time. I must take my  leave for now.” Prince Yoongi spoke clearly and watched with dark eyes as everyone in the room bowed. He smirked in amusement and turned on his heels before he left the meeting space with Hoseok at his side. Seokjin sat at the bottom of the stairs where a chabudai table and chair was placed. The throne was left empty and as everyone took their seats, Seokjin smiled and raised his cup as a silent toast. 

Since the announcement in the morning and during the luncheon, the Princess’ maids and other attendants have moved most of her belongings into her room within the palace. The butterfly house was still the Princess’ cherished getaway but now that her title had changed, she was expected to stay in the palace with the other royals even with Agust’s recurring appearances.

At the butterfly house, the Princess sat outside and watched Cookie as he chased a butterfly. The boubou from earlier was replaced by a cream blouse with wide sleeves and a scoop neckline that had a soft geometric pattern. A peach wrapper sat on the Princess’ hips, an overall simple look compared to what she wore during the announcement ceremony. 

San and Kai are on guard. The pair shared a knowing look as they watched the Princess admire the flowers that Namjoon had planted.

San was nervous and excited for tonight. Together with Kai and Minho, the three made sure that everything would be perfect for the Princess’ first unofficial visit into the town. The night market was a major event in their town. Merchants and entertainers came from all over to share their goods and stories. There would not have been a better time than tonight to sneak the Princess out of the palace.

Footsteps crunched on the walkway and Princess Keena looked up, a smile spread wide on her face.

“Seokjin!”

Seokjin was dressed down from what he wore in the early morning like most of the palace staff that held positions of power. A white cross-collared shirt dropped into a white skirt with a thick pale grey silk belt wrapped around his waist. He wore a scalloped seashell-colored open cross-collared jacket over top that had pale grey and cream rumen flowers stitched along the wide sleeves. His dark bangs framed his face while the rest of his hair was pulled into a high half bun, half ponytail style that had a good portion of his hair cascading down behind his shoulders.

A wide smile took over Seokjin’s face as the Prince called his name and he continued his way to her. Once in front of the Princess, Seokjin bowed and clapped his hands.

“You looked stunning on that stage, Princess. You looked regal and elegant, a true blood born leader.”

“You flatter me, Seokjin.”

“Nonsense, Princess. You had everyone on their toes. The women of the court have yet to shut up about your attire. They are already requesting the style.”

Princess Keena felt her face warm at the news and shook her head softly. Seokjin jumped at the sudden weight on his foot and when he looked down, Cookie was sitting on his toes. Bending down, Seokjin scooped the tiger cub up with a huff. 

“He has gotten bigger since I last saw him.” Seokjin spoke as Cookie head butted his chin. “Soon none of us will be able to carry him.”

“I’m sure my guards will be able to handle Cookie. He’s just a big baby.”

The Princess reached out and scratched behind Cookie’s ears as she spoke and smiled at Seokjin.

“What brings you to the butterfly house?” 

Seokjin set Cookie down and offered his arm to the Princess, “Since His Highness is busy with his own tasks, I thought I would offer to keep you company.” Seokjin explained as the Princess slipped her arm into the crook of Seokjin’s elbow. “I really must apologize for not taking the time to visit more often.”

“You are a busy man, Seokjin. Why should I fault you for doing your job?”

Seokjin’s cheeks flushed at the Princess’ words and he started to walk along the path through the garden.

“You are too kind Princess. Your gentle candor is refreshing.” Seokjin watched his steps as Cookie ran around them in circles. “His Highness was blessed by the ones before us to have you intertwined into his life. Together, with you by his side-” Seokjin grins and chuckles, “I see a long and beautiful union for all of us.”

Seokjin had spent a few hours with Princess Keena. At some point Kai left his post by the Princess’ side; he felt unwell. Minho took his place and San knew that it would soon be time for the night’s operation to begin. 

Conversation between the Princess and Seokjin was easy. As the sun started to sink in the sky, the Princess voiced that she had felt unwell and when Seokjin offered to escort her to her chambers, Minho and San took over. They reassured him that the Princess would be okay and that he need not worry about her care. Seokjin watched as the trio walked back to the palace and he chewed on his bottom lip in worry.

In the palace, Hoseok and Aga were informed of a sudden council meeting to discuss the ongoing war and strategies to ensure an overall victory. When Hoseok left his post, Kai slipped into the Prince’s room with a small bag hidden within the belt of his outfit. Prince Yoongi sat alone in his chambers behind his desk with a scroll in front of him. Upon Kai’s arrival, the Prince rose from his seat and motioned for the guard to follow him into his bed chambers. 

In the room, Kai removed the bag from his belt and laid the contents out on the Prince’s vanity. Charcoal and commoner clothing were bundled together neatly and the Prince was impressed. Kai helped the Prince strip out of his regal clothing and carefully dressed him in the simple hanbok before he removed all the jewelry. He sat in front of the mirror and watched as Kai came up behind him. In his hands was a small cup of water and he set it on top of the vanity before he grabbed a brush and detangled the Prince’s hair. 

Once the Prince’s hair was knot free, carefully Kai pressed the charcoal stick to the blonde hair. Again and again, Kai repeated the process before he ran a fine toothed comb through the Prince’s hair to fully cover the hair. Gone were the blond strands, now replaced with flat ink black. Prince Yoongi was fascinated as he turned his head from side to side to get a better view of his dark hair. Kai pulled it into a high bun that sat on top of the Prince’s head with a simple black cloth tied around to keep it in place.

As he stood from his seat, the Prince smoothed out his hanbok and gave Namjoon a tight-lipped smile. 

“How do I look?”

Kai eyed the sand-colored jeogori that hung from the Prince’s shoulders. The matching baeja was simple enough with a white trim along the hem. The beige baji paired well with the straw jipsin shoes. The dark strands of hair really made all the difference and Kai nodded his head, pleased with the Prince’s disguise.

“I would give you a few coins if you asked.”

A smile stretched across the Prince’s face at Kai’s words and he laughed. 

“Everything else is ready for tonight?” 

“Yes, Your Highness. I recruited the help of Byulyi to assist the Princess in dressing.”

The Prince narrowed his eyes as he frowned, unimpressed with the news of Byulyi now knowing about his plan. He didn’t want more people to know about his whereabouts, but it couldn’t be helped. The Princess did indeed need help to get ready and that was a fact that the Prince had not accounted for.

In the Princess’ chambers, Byulyi helped her into the hanbok that the Prince had gifted to her a few nights ago. The other handmaids were dismissed by the Princess in fear that she would get them sick as well. Byulyi had been the first to speak up about staying behind and passed a note to the Princess while she clasped her hands tightly. The Princess agreed with little to no argument and the others left with low bows.

The sand-colored jeogori with its thick beige cuffing fitted the Princess loosely and the beige pleated chima swayed around her feet. The cognac colored norigae was carefully attached to the Princess’ skirt by Byulyi before she was led over to the vanity. Byulyi pulled the Princess’ braid to the back of her head and twisted them into a single plait that rested against her back. The cream silk ribbon with gold larch and lupine flowers embroidered at the ends was tied to the bottom of the plait to complete the look.

As the Princess walked over to the tri-view mirrors, she smiled at her overall appearance. Her makeup had been removed and replaced with a simple neutral smokey eye and a rose tinted balm to her lips. The only jewelry that she wore were the two rings with thin gold bands and three white scolecite gems on each that the Prince had gifted to her. The engagement ring was tucked away with the rest of the jewelry for safe keeping. Princess Keena had been reluctant to remove the precious gift but Byulyi had reassured her that it would be safer to leave it behind.

Out in the hall, Wonho and Jooheon stood guard. They were determined to make sure that the Princess wasn’t disturbed while she rested and recovered from her sickness. Inside the Princess’ chambers, Byulyi lit a candle and walked over to the closed window. As she opened it quickly and stood with her back facing the Princess. Silently, Byulyi covered and uncovered the flame six times before she blew out the candle and walked away from the window. The Princess was confused but Byulyi gave her a knowing smile.

“Be safe tonight Princess and have a wonderful time.”

Byulyi draped a dark cloak around the Princess’ shoulders and carefully lifted the hood over her head.

“Where am I going, Byulyi? His Highness didn’t tell me anything.”

“You will learn in due time, Princess.”

A soft knock at the window made the two women turn around and Princess Keena was surprised to see San standing in the window; his calcite eyes glowed in the darkness. 

“Time to go, Princess.”

Byulyi and San helped the Princess climb out the window and Byulyi wished them luck once more before she closed the window and covered all the sunstones for the night. Princess Keena stayed close to San’s side as he led her through a series of twists and turns until they reached a small cluster of trees. It was dark and grew darker still. As they approached, shadows started to move and the Princess’ steps faltered.

One of the shadows stepped out of the darkness and as it was bathed in silver moonlight, the Princess’ mouth dropped open in awe. There stood the Prince dressed in clothing that did not befit his status and his blond hair was gone. Dark inky locks gleamed in the moonlight, and the Prince’s lips were turned upward as he extended his hand outward towards the Princess.

"Ann ale."

Colors. So many colors, sounds, and scents surrounded the Princess as she walked beside the Prince in the busy streets of the town’s night market. The main market was lit up with sunstones that were strung up high from stall to stall. A web of lights encased in handcrafted lanterns of different colors. Hand-carved and painted signs with the names of products and pricing covered all the stalls while some had no signage. Minho and San kept ten paces from the young royals as they explored the wonders of the night market.

“Ddeokbokki! Fresh ddeokbokki!”

“Bindaetteok! Nice hot, bindaetteok!”

“Samgyupsal! We have samgyupsal!”

In the distance, a pansori told the story of how the Min Empire came to be while another one sang about the war in the West. People moved to and fro, stall to stall with baskets filled with goods. It was exciting and the Princess took it all in. The Min Empire at night was beyond her wildest dreams. Intoxicating scents of perfumes and oils danced in the air and mingled with the sweet aromas of the food. The floral and spicy scent led lonely and stressed women and men alike to the middle of town where The Vine, a prosperous inn known for its more carnal pleasures, resided.  

The building was three stories high with thick wooden posts painted a deep blue out front to hold up the impressive nameplate. The whole building was a mix of blues, creams, and golds. Splashes of brighter colors were hidden away in the rooms reserved for private use. A group of four, two women and two men, stood outside of The Vine to entice those who passed by. Their grabs were soft muted tones of pinks, reds, purples, and blues. Their necks were exposed and if their robes slipped from their shoulders, a helpful hand would fix it.

The Prince had spoken with San and Kai about The Vine, he knew to avoid that area and the walkways were wide enough to do so. Princess Keena pulled at the Prince’s hand and he allowed himself to be dragged to a vendor that sold norigae. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back as the Princess asked the merchant questions and silently inhaled the sweet tang of honey-dipped tangerines. The satgat on top of his head hid his face from those around him, only showing his mouth when he lifted his face enough to speak to different vendors. 

Prince Yoongi felt himself cross his eyes for a moment as a norigae was suddenly shoved in his face. He blinked a few times and carefully took the knotted silk in his hands. The craftsmanship was impressive and the colors were complementary to a few of his darker outfits in the palace. Red and gold silk rope was woven together in an intricately knotted design with three hanging tassels at the bottom, red on one side and gold on the other.

“The little lady has an eye for the best!” The merchant praised and Yoongi raised an eyebrow as he turned his attention to the Princess.

“My wife finished that one this afternoon, it took all month to make.”

The Prince reached into the waist of his hanbok and wrapped his fingers around his jumeoni that held his money. He asked the price and paid for it without blinking an eye. Princess Keena leaned into his side and the Prince swallowed down a pleased rumble in his chest. The merchant placed the norigae into a small wooden box and wrapped it in a tan cloth. Before he could hand it off, Prince Yoongi gave the merchant a nameplate and asked to keep it on hold. Anything that was purchased in the night would be picked up later on in the week to avoid any suspension. 

Princess Keena slipped her hand into the Prince’s and together they walked to a stall that made the Price smirk. He recognized the name of the stall, it was the vendor that sold the sweet treats. He had a few tables set up for people to sit down and enjoy their food to which Prince Yoongi pulled the Princess in that direction. They sat across from each other at a table and the Princess looked around excitedly. Her eyes were wide as they bounced from place to place. The light of the sunstones reflected in her eyes and the Prince found himself reaching his arm out across the table. 

Princess Keena grinned down at his hand and cupped the back of his hand in hers. Using her other hand, she traced invisible shapes into the Prince’s palm with the tips of her blunt nails. A pleasant shiver crawled down the Prince’s back and he carefully removed his hat, placing it on the seat beside him. He made sure to choose a table that wasn’t in the direct light of the sunstones so that he could enjoy this moment.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my gem?”

“There are no words to express my gratitude...Yoongi.”

The Prince’s fingers wrapped tightly around the Princess’ fingers and he purred. He brought the Princess’ hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips one by one. He never took his eyes off hers and smirked as silver started to quiver to life in the darkness.

A waiter came over to take their order and the Prince rattled off a few different treats. Everything was picked with the knowledge that he had gained over the time spent with the Princess. Hotteok, danpatjuk, yakgwa and manju with a pot of tieguanyin tea on the side.

In the palace, Hyungwon and his assistant Yunho, a dwarf cyclops, tended to the Emperor as he laid in bed. Empress Eunkyung sat at his bedside, eyes bloodshot and puffy from her endless crying. The Emperor was ill and his sickness incurable. From Hyungwon’s examinations and tests, Emperor Chungho had three months to live; six at the most. It was a sickness of his lungs and from what Hyungwon saw, they were slowly withering away bit by bit. The blood that the Emperor coughed up was proof of his lungs' degenerative state.

The news was swiftly delivered to Hoseok and Aga as they exited the war meeting together. They decided to tell the young royals together in hopes that they would be able to comfort each other. Prince Yoongi wasn’t in his chambers, the guards at his door informed Hoseok that the Princess had fallen ill, so His Highness had gone to stay by her side. Aga bristled at the news but kept his thoughts to himself. They made their way to the Princess’ chambers where Chan and Jooheon stood guard.

“Why was I not informed of the Princess’ state?” Aga glared at the two guards and Chan stood his ground.

“Byulyi said that she sent word to you already. Had she not?” 

Aga and Hoseok shared a look before they pushed open the doors of the Princess’ chambers. Byulyi scrambled to her feet and bowed to both Aga and Hoseok.

“It seems to be some miscommunication, Byulyi.” Hoseok didn’t take his eyes off the maid as he spoke. “Word of the Princess’ illness had not reached us and yet the Prince is here with her?” Hoseok clicked his tongue and took a step towards the bed chambers.

Byulyi stepped in his way and crossed her arms over her chest. “I was giving strict orders from His Highness to not allow anyone to disturb his and the Princess’ slumber.” 

“Oh?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow and took one step forward to crowd Byulyi’s space. “And will you take responsibility for my important notice being ignored for the sake of beauty sleep?”

Byulyi’s gaze wavered. What news did Hsoeok speak of? Could she risk it? It had only been a few hours, two at the most since the young royals left the palace. She wanted them to enjoy their freedom a little longer. Squaring her shoulders, Byulyi narrowed her eyes.

“I will.” 

Hoseok huffed, annoyed but impressed. He licked his lips and glanced over his shoulder to Aga who stood by and watched the whole encounter. He nodded his head with a sigh and turned his attention back to Byulyi.

“Forgive me, my dear.”

Before Byulyi could react to Hoseok’s words, he had dug his fingers into a pressure point and caught Byulyi’s limp body in his arms. Scooping her up, he carried her over to the couch and placed her down gently. Aga opened the door to the Princess’ sleeping chambers and the squawk that left his mouth made Hoseok cringe. Aga stepped out of the room and charged to the front of the room. He ripped open the doors and grabbed Chan by his shoulders. Chan hissed in pain as he was slammed into the stone wall.

“Where are they?!” Aga’s voice was an airy mix of whistles,  a song of death that only came from the lips of a citron crane.

Jooheon moved to pull Aga off of Chan when Hoseok held him back. The heat that seeped through his robes and singed his skin was uncomfortable. Flames danced in Hoseok’s amber eyes as he glared at Jooheon.

“Answer the question, kid. Where are the Prince and Princess?” 

The beat of the drums rang throughout the night. Armed guards filled the streets of the night market and stopped anyone who had their face covered. The Prince and Princess were missing from the palace. Any other time, Hoseok would have searched for the young couple without a fuss but with the news of the Emperor’s impending demise, he had no time for subtlety. Minho and San were easily recognized by the other guards and led back to the palace. They both thought to put up a fight but feared the young royal’s cover would be blown. 

In all the commotion, Prince Yoongi pulled the Princess away from the main street and ran between buildings, back towards the palace. The backways were dark and some smelled of waste and spoiled food but the Prince paid no mind to it once he heard additional footsteps echo around him. Someone, maybe three people from the missteps, were following them and Agust coiled himself tightly around Yoongi’s heart. Slowly a gold ring brightened around Yoongi’s iris and his hold on the Princess’ hand tightened. 

A body suddenly dropped from the rooftop followed by two more and Yoongi growled in warning. Footfalls from behind made his back stiffen and he shoved the Princess closer to the wall beside them. His satgat had fallen off his head and hung at his back thanks to the beaded gatkkeun that was attached to it. Prince Yoongi narrowed his eyes and bared his elongated fangs as the footsteps behind him came to a stop. They were surrounded and the Prince wondered where Minho and San were.

“Hand over the girl and we’ll let you live, boy.”

From the accent that the words were spoken in, the Prince knew that these bandits were not from town. As he took in their garb, he noticed that they were dressed in darker colors and wore black leather trousers but what stood out was the scabbard on their waist. The hilt was an ivy white while the sheath was black with golden metal plating. The craftsmanship reminded the Prince of a dagger that he once saw in a book about the West. He narrowed his eyes and positioned himself between the men, ten he counted, and the Princess.

“If you want to leave with your pathetic lives, leave now!”

The men all laughed and drew their swords and daggers all at once. Prince Yoongi cursed for not arming himself with any weapons for the night. Princess Keena pressed herself closer to the wall to shield her back and watched as the men all readied themselves to attack. 

One man lunged and the Prince sent him flying into the building across from them with a single kick to the man’s stomach. His skull hit the wall with a loud crack before he slumped to the ground. Another charged at the Prince and threw a punch that the Prince caught. He pulled the man in closer and sent his knee into the man’s chest three times before he shoved him away.

Prince Yoongi settled into a fighting stance and two men charged at once with their swords. He  shifted their attention to him as he moved out of the way so that the Princess wouldn’t be hurt. He blocked their attacks with his forearms before he kicked them away and smirked. Three out of the four men were groaning on the ground and slowly picked themselves up. A taller man, the leader, if they had to guess, narrowed his eyes and spit on the ground.

“Kill ‘im.”

⚠⚠⚠

Four of the men rushed in and the Prince was caught off guard for a moment. He thrusted his arm out to catch the wrist of the closet man, twisting the man's arm at an awkward angle for the sword to drop. The sickening crack of bone breaking made the Princess wince and cover her mouth as the food from earlier threatened to come back up. The man staggered back, holding his injured arm while the Prince fended off the other three men with the stolen sword. Another man snuck against the wall and kept to the darkness as he crept towards the Princess. 

The clinking of swords echoed in the night and Hoseok’s ears were ringing. The market was a mess with thugs and lowlifes attacking vendors for their goods. It was chaos and Hoseok was worried for his friends. He had not seen any trace of the Prince nor the Princess and something deep in his gut felt wrong. The sky above came to life, stars snuffed out by thick wafts of clouds. The air smelt of petrichor, dense and electric as thunder rolled about. 

A sudden squall of wind, chilling for the warmer night sent a shiver down Hoseok’s spin. A storm was coming and it wasn’t natural. Hoseok gathered the Princess’ guards, even though he felt like everything was their fault and motioned for them to follow him.

“Circle back to the palace! Split up and check the backways!”

The Prince was panting as he punched another man in his face. His fist hurt but he ignored the pain as someone came at him with two swords. Prince Yoongi grunted as he blocked the double blades and fought to keep his balance. The man before he was larger but the Prince remembered his training with Aga.

He let the man gain the upper hand by letting his arms give out before he kicked out his leg and swept the man’s feet out from underneath him. Using that same momentum, the Prince thrusted the blade forward right down into the man’s stomach and yanked it upward, like he had gutted a fish.

“Yoon-!”

The Princess’ voice caught Yoongi’s attention and he saw that she was now surrounded by three men. He hadn’t realized that the men he had fought had put such a distance between himself and the Princess. He took a step in the Princess’ direction and two more men attacked him. As he fought, one pulled a dragger from his hip and lunged. Yoongi was able to block the sword but the dagger was longer than normal and gave the other man the chance to get too close. The blade striked the Prince and his vision blurred, scarlet red. A sudden warmth with a stinging undertone, radiated along the right side of his face.

The Prince gripped his face with one hand. Blood seeped through his fingers and trickled down his wrist as he swung his sword blindly in the other, staggering backwards. He tripped over one of the fallen men and before he could catch himself one of the men grabbed his head from behind and smashed it into the closest wall. 

What little vision he had blurred even more and the Princess’ scream echoed in his ears. He struggled to stay upright and the man behind him slammed his head once more into the wall. Black spots entered the Prince’s vision and as he crumbled to the ground, he felt Agust’s claws as they sank deep into his heart.

Worry not, Princeling

Three men were left behind to check on the well-being of the others that were injured by Prince Yoongi. They paid no mind to the broken body that laid battered and bruised, bleeding out onto the dirt. If they had known who he was, they would have run long before they dared attack. Now? Now it was too late. Obsidian was flooded with pure gold, inky black iridescent scales covered more and more pale skin in larger patches and the pink tongue was now indigo and forked.

One man passed over the Prince’s body and spit at the ground in front of him. He noticed that the Prince was still breathing and glowered at the younger man. He squatted down before the Prince and pulled a dagger from his hip. He moved the satgat out of the way and grabbed the topknot that kept the Prince’s hair out of his face with a sneer.

“Enjoy living in disgrace,” the man sniggered and chopped the Prince’s topknot off without a second thought. 

The bun was clutched in the man’s fist and he laughed loudly, pleased with himself. However, the victorious joy was short-lived once he noticed the black scales on the Prince’s neck and face. With the satgat no longer blocking the Prince’s features, the man saw small black horns, almost like thorns that framed the Prince’s eyebrows and two thick black horns that weren’t there before. He swallowed thickly and dropped the topknot on the ground before he scrambled to his feet.

An iron-like vice gripped his ankle and he froze. Long, pointed nails seemingly dipped in tar pierced the skin and the man groaned in pain as he felt his muscle and bone rub together. The bone snapped and the man cried as he fell to the ground. The other men, now four in total, rushed over. They watched uncertain, swords raised in defense as the Prince picked himself up off the ground. His black hair hung around his ears unevenly and stuck to the bloody mud on his face. 

This was not the same man they had tried to kill. This, this was a monster.

Agust grinned at the men before him; his pointed teeth gleamed a wicked red from the flood that trickled into his mouth. He licked his lips and spit the bloody dirt on the ground. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers a few times, his pointed nails glossy and soaked in blood. 

He blinked once and he was in front of the men, nearly nose to nose. He growled as he grabbed one man by the throat and threw him through the wall of the building nearby. The other men dropped to their knees and begged for their lives. Agust squatted down in front of them, setting his elbow on his knee before he rested his chin in his palm.

“And why sssshould I ssspare your livessss?” His words were strung together with a hissed lisp that encased the men’s heart in pure dread.

“T-The girl!” One blurted out to save himself. “I-I know where they took the girl!”

Agust’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits and he lashed out without a word. The man’s whole body went rigid and he looked down slowly as he started to shake. Agust’s arm, up until his elbow was in the man’s chest. His heart beat dully in Agust’s bloodied hand that stuck out his back. 

The other two men watched in horror as Agust ripped his hand out and squished the man’s heart right before his very eyes before he died. He turned his gaze to the other men left and they begged for their lives. Agust enjoyed ripping them limb from limb. The only other survivor was the man who had the crushed ankle and Agust dragged him by the front of his shirt.

“Ssshow me where they took my treasssure!”

A downpour drowned out the muffled shouting that came from inside a storage room behind The Vine. The building was surrounded by lilac and clematis flowers with a cluster of yew trees that casted eerie shadows against the walls. 

Inside the tree men from the alleyway argued with each other about what to do with Princess Keena. They had tied her hands together at the wrists, behind her back and had her knelt on the cold hanji paper-covered floor. Water dripped from her hair and dripped onto the floor. A puddle had started to form where she knelt in silence.

They had not expected the man she was with to put up such a fight and cut their numbers down so quickly. The leader of the group was sure that the man was dead by now but he required a greater sum of money for the inconvenience of having to replace two of his men.

Money was heavy on his mind but as he looked at the Princess, unknowing of her true value, he licked his lips. The hanbok she wore was soaked through. The light beige color had darkened to a brown and clung to her body. The Princess kept her head down, her eyes closed as she willed Ceyeh to slowly come to the surface.

Princess Keena knew a bit more than the very basics of fighting. She could hold her own well enough against one person, but not three. Ceyeh had been a warrior in her time and knew how to protect the Princess at the cost of someone else’s life. It was a price she was willing to pay if need be. 

Behind closed eyes, silver curled and spread through the irises of the Princess. Ceyeh pushed the Princess’ conscious state of mind behind her. Warm brown and soft grey feathers wrapped around the Princess’ subconscious and held her tightly. 

“Not gonna scream for help, girl?” 

Ceyeh ignored the voice that spoke to her as she controlled her presence. No feathers sprouted from her skin and she focused on the shift of her nails. The nail bed turned a deep grey and the rounded tips grew into pointed talons. 

The leader of the group grabbed a fist full of Ceyeh’s hair and jerked her head up. The watery blue silver of her eyes caught him off guard and he grinned wickedly.

“A shifter? Never had a taste of one before.”

The man’s breath was rancid, teeth rotted and many missing. He gripped Ceyeh’s face in his hand harshly and turned her head every which way. He examined her and watched as goosebumps rose on the exposed skin of her shoulder.

“A nice consolation for the death of my men. It has been some time since I’ve last touched someone so-” 

As thunder roared overhead the trees outside hit against the building. Lightning lit up the sky and casted their shadows against the wall. Ceyeh glared up at the man and he looked over his shoulder at the other two men in the room.

“Did you hear that?” 

The men looked at each other confused.

“The thunder?” 

The man in front of Ceyeh spit on the ground and threw her body to the floor. He had heard something in the thunder.

“I think our men are back. Shall we give them a show?”

Ceyeh silently sliced through the rope that bound her hands as the man above her talked. If it was a show they wanted, it was a show they would get. Ceyeh caught the rope in her hands and dropped them on the ground before she made her move. The leader moved faster, he had her pushed onto her stomach and straddled her waist. He leant down and chuckled in her ear as he held her head down against the floor.

“Nice try girlie.”

He licked the side of her face, the warmth of his saliva cooled quickly as he pulled away with a pleased hum. 

“Hold her down!” He ordered his men and they moved quickly. Both men grabbed one of Ceyeh’s arms and pinned them down while the leader pulled his dagger from his hip and cut into the fabric of her hanbok. Ceyeh struggled as she tried to pull herself free but the men were surprisingly much stronger. It had been a long time since she last had to defend herself like this.

“Oh ho!” The man sneered as he looked at the markings on Ceyeh’s back. “What filth is this?” His rough fingers touched the raised marking on Ceyeh’s back and Ceyeh fought harder to get free. “Such a pretty face for a disfigured body.”

A hand pushed the skirts of her hanbok up and Ceyeh clenched her teeth. Feathers started to sprout along her ears and corners of her eyes. Her leg shifted as she dug her talons into the floor and readied herself for the pain she was about to inflict on herself. Brown feathers started to grow from her shoulders.

As they hardened, a crash filled the air as a body dressed in the men’s garb went soaring through the only door of the storage room. The body smacked into the wall, a single hole held the limp body in place by its smashed head. Blood dripped down the wall and splashed onto the floor in crimson pearls.

Through the petrichor, as Agust encroached on the storage house, he smelt the fermented and sour scent of the Princess. She was in danger and Agust growled as he heard a man’s voice over the rain. He dragged the man from the alleyway through the mud, not once caring that his broken ankle was jostled about. He broke the man’s jaw to keep him quiet and once the storage house was pointed out, Agust snapped his neck without a moment's hesitation.

⚠⚠⚠

As the scent of tangerines turned sharper and grew more bitter, Agust had enough. With no warning, he chucked the man in his hands through the doors of the storage room with such force that he became one with the wall. A grand improvement in Agust’s eyes, though before he could voice his musings he took in the sight before him. Princess Keena was pinned to the floor, her skirt was pulled up past her thighs and a man was straddling her from behind. As the man jumped to his feet, Agust caught sight of the off-colored markings on the Princess’ back and thick black smoke spilled from his mouth as fire burned in his chest.

Screams echoed in the night, suffocated by the howling winds and cherry-sized raindrops. Blood dripped from the ceiling and pooled onto the floor under torn limbs. Agust blinked once, twice, thrice before the sweltering heat in his chest settled into a dull flame. Golden eyes shimmered in the night, reflective as light flashed outside. His hair was plastered to his face, wet from the rain and blood that had started to clot. 

Agust cracked his knuckles and wiped his hands on his blood soaked trouser before he ran a semi-clean hand through his hair.  The choppy strands irritated the cut on his eye. The sound of shuffling caught his attention and he turned on his heels sharply with a growl in his throat. 

Silver and gold, two colors that had not existed in the same space in eons, meat silently. Agust’s body was frozen as glistening tears spilled from those all too familiar silver pools. A single drop of blood plopped down from the ceiling and splashed on the Ceyeh’s cheek. A small river of tinted red streamed down her face, yet she made no move to wipe it away. 

Agust stepped forward with a hand raised and Ceyeh’s arm shot out with a startled gasp as she took a quick step backwards. The distance wasn’t much, a handful of footsteps yet Agust felt that there were whole continents between them.

“My moon?”

#yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #daechwita!yoongi #dragon!yoongi #bts soulmate au #bts fantasy au #fic: blackthorn #soc yoongi #blackthorn ch 14

[her-favorite]

waltzing; j.m. valeska (drabble)

(post-spray)!jeremiah valeska x f!reader

warnings: ?

wc: 689

a/n: requested!

summary: waltzing with jeremiah

-

you hadn’t seen jeremiah all day.

on occasions he wouldn’t be around when he had big plans that he wanted to carry out for gotham, but he would notify you when he did. today was different. he hadn’t contacted you since you woke up early that morning, no sign of life down in the bunker.

maybe you should’ve expected it at some point. jeremiah was always unpredictable and even though he always ran through his plans with you, you should’ve known this was going to happen either way.

as hours pass and it grows dark, which you realize from the security cameras that were placed outside, there was still so sign of your boyfriend.

sighing and running a hand over your face, you make your way through his maze and towards the main area. given it was still his house, he managed to make a living room along with a dining room, a kitchen and a bedroom. you had been with him through it all. ever since he ran from haly’s circus, he met you and that’s where everything started.

when he got sprayed with the gas, he immediately made you join him. the insanity, or rather sanity, as jeremiah would say, quickly went to his head as he realized his purpose in life. you couldn’t say that you didn’t like this new path, but it was still hard getting used to.

reaching the door that lead to the living area, you enter the code in the security lock that was screwed into the pale wall. it gave you access as the door slides open and you walk in. when the door shuts behind you and you look up from your view on the floor, you subconsciously take a step back and freeze.

jeremiah sat on a chair that was placed on the side of the coffee table that supported a dark, antique couch beside it. he had a small glass in his hand that was the color that you could only describe as blood red, almost matching his lips.

“hello, my dear.” he smiles, leaning forward to set down his glass on the table. he made sure there was a coaster under it; always the neat freak. his steps were smooth as he walked over to you, reaching down to grab your left hand and kiss your knuckles. “come here, darling.”

you let him walk you over to the free space between the small table and the bright fireplace. he let go of you for a second, moving over a couple feet to his stand in the corner of the room and moving the stylus onto the record as soft music sounded from the player.

his eyes looked brighter in the dim lighting as he walks back over to you, his face somewhat neutral, but more gentle than usual. he sets one of his hands on your hip and keeps one in the air as he waits for you to take it. almost immediately you do, a smile curling on your lips as you slide your free hand to his shoulder.

he moves slowly at first, rocking his body side to side with you. as the music continues, he starts taking steps with you as you quickly fall into the rhythm with him. you’ve learned how to do this because of jeremiah. before the toxin that jerome sprayed him with, you both would have late nights where the only thing you wanted to do was dance. it was intimate and romantic, something the both of you craved from each other.

he keeps you close to him as you both move, eventually dipping you backwards, but never letting go of you.

“i would never leave you, my darling. you’re mine and you always will be.” he whispers as he never tears his gaze away from yours, finally bringing you back up to stand in front of him.

seconds turn into minutes as minutes turn into hours. the both of you felt like you were reliving the nights that seemed just days ago of dancing in the dark together with no worries besides yourselves.

maybe this gas wasn’t so bad.

#jeremiah valeska #jeremiah valeska x reader #cameron monaghan #jerome valeska #cameron monaghan x reader #jerome valeska x reader #jerome x reader #jeremiah valeska x you

[thatthirdtriplet]

Relationships:

Tim Drake & Dick GraysonBatfamily Members & Tim Drake

Characters:

Dick GraysonTim DrakeJason ToddStephanie BrownCassandra CainDuke ThomasDamian WayneJohn GraysonMary Grayson

Additional Tags:

Good Parents Jack Drake and Janet Drake hurt/Comfort alternate Universe - Canon Divergence no beta we die like jason Todd most of the characters are small parts apart from dick and Tim dick's parents still die i'm sorry

Summary:

Dick had never thought of himself as a role model. He can’t help it, he reaches over and squeezes Timmy’s cheeks. “Aw, Timmy! That’s so cool!” Suddenly, he has an idea. “Hey, do you want to meet the rest of us Flying Graysons?”

Tim’s eyes widen. His mouth in an ‘o’.

Dick takes that as a yes.

Or

Haly's Circus spends a week, not a day, in Gotham. This changes everything and nothing.

#tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne #stephanie brown #duke thomas #cassandra cain #jack drake #janet drake #mary grayson #john grayson #Baby Robin