y’ALL KEEP REQUESTING DANIEL WE GOTTA DO OTHER MEMBERS TOO ISTG WE’RE NOT BIASED TO DANIEL [although my bias is daniel] BUT AHHHHH TOO MANY DANIEL SCENARIOS LOLOL
requested by two ppl wahh !
Hi! I know you keep getting requests for Daniel but HES TOTALLY BEING RUDE AND MAKING HEART GO CRAZY. So can i request a Daniel scenario where you go for a sexy concept (a soloist) and he gets all idunnocoughturnedoncough please? THANK YOU!! I dunno if you’ll accept this tho.. hihi but i hope you do! Thanks!
HII can i request a daniel scenario where you go for a sexy concept comeback? Please? Thanks!
- *cOughs* okAY LETS GET THIS OVER WITH *COUGHS* - so you, a soloist - [and a hot one (; ] - made a comeback and your company decided to lean towards more of the sexy, r&b side - + your song was feturing dean - i love dean - and lets say - you and daniel are dating [secretly] - daniel hasnt seen the mv in it - but he’s only been listening to the song on his i(*cough* pad) phone - so you were at a music show - aND SO WAS DANIEL - HAH - you decided to pay their dressing room a visit before you went on - with hair, makeup and clothes already put together - you entered wannaones dressing room - everyone paying attention, they all bowed lightly - “aYEEE ITS Y/N” (seongwoon) - “hEHEHEHE Y/N BOOBS ARE SHOWING,” (woojin) - “no shit iTS A FUCKING BRALETTE BUDDY” (you) - “guysguysguys, look at daniel,” jihoon whispered to jisung and daehwi - but everyone else heard that - you all look at daniel whom was in the corner facing away from everyone else - you approach him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and drapped your head over his shoulder - “dANIELS BLUSHINGGGG” guanlin yelled as they all acted imMATURELY and began rUNNING AROUND SCREAMING (same tbfh) - “you’re exposing too much skin,” he said softly - “hHHH ITS NOT EVEN THAT MUCH,” you replied - he turned around from his seat and hugged your stomach - “yEsitis,” he mummbles against your bare tummy (god this is too cute) - you rolled your eyes as you sat beside him to check social media as everyone continued on with their conversations - you suddenly felt daniels hand on your bare thigh as he squeezed the inner part and began rubbing his hand up and down (god) - “calm your harmones,” you whispered as you took his hand out of your thigh - he slightly chuckled as he planted a small kiss on your cheek - he then leaned over to your hear as he whispered - “you look fucking beautiful,” he spoke with a smirk on his face - you rolled your eyes (once again) as you softly kissed him on the lips - “Y/N ON IN 5,” the speakers announced as that was your que to head backstage - you stood up form your seat as they all wished you luck and waved goodbyes - waiting backstage your adjusted your earpiece as your backup dancers joined you, waiting until the group in front of you to finish their song (you lowkey hummed the lyrics tho it was nct cherry bomb LOLOL) - you got on stage as you repeated the same process of choero (and maybbbb a bit fan service but ill let your imaginations figure out what that was) - and as your song ended you got off stage and went back to the dressing rooms to change back into your comfy clothes - after doing so, you watched on the tv wannaone preform their song as you sang all the lyrics and do the arm movements of their song - both of them - yeah they both preformed energetic and burn it up - and you yelled when daniel lifted up his shirt but you dont talk about that - you waited for wannaone to be ready to head out so you can head home with daniel - “Y/N DANCES WAS TOO SEXYYYYYY” sungwoon yelled like a kid as you covered his mouth and began laughing - “okay, i know y/n is daniel’s but like when the sleeve of her kimono was hanging off her shoulder at the end, iT WAS TOO MUCH,” seongwoo spoke as daniel raised his hand at him and laughed - “daniel’s luckyyy,” jaehwan said - “OH MY GOD AND WHEN SHE DID THAT ONE MOVE, DANIEL BIT HIS LIP SO HA-” - “oKAY THATS ENOUGH FOR ONE DAY” daniel yelled as he punched jinyoung in the stomach as he slightly chuckles - you walked up to daniel as everyone dozzed off into their own conversation and headed into the van in the parking lot - you took the same van as they did to same money + y'all were friends so - “was it too much for your baby soul?” you asked teasing him - “baby soul? are you sure about that?” daniel replied as he crossed his arms and rose an eyebrow, leaving a smirk across his face - “what did you get turned on or some shit watching me preform?” - “of course i fucking did, you’re wearing a bralette with a see through kimono and high waisted shorts in which clearly showed too much of your thighs and knee high boots, are you trying to tease me?” - “not to mention, your lip bites are only something i can see but now you just showed it to 70 thousand people and you better be thankful you have nothing visible on your collarbone right now cause trust me when we get home-” - daniel stopped his conversation midway as he slighty bit his bottom lip staring into your eyes - “loveyou,” you said as you quickly pecked him on the lips - “love you too,” he mummbled
So it’s legendweek and I had this half-written and I figured why not? I’ll post the rest of it eventually, just gotta work out the kinks first.
June is seven and she’s the strongest mage in her class.
Because magic is a thing, or at least, Gifts are. Some people have them, some people don’t. June has ice and snow at her fingertips and she’s seven with long hair and a bright mind and she hosts snowball battles at recess and offers to create snow days for Metias when he’s exhausted but hauling himself out for work.
He always refuses, but he smiles a little softer each time.
June is ten and she’s going for her Trial and there is absolutely no way she will fail.
Mages never fail. Mages never, ever fail. They’re too useful for the economy, so the Trial has a special test for mages on top of the other components. If you’re a mage, you’re practically given an automatic pass.
So June walks in and walks out expecting to pass. She didn’t expect to get a perfect score, to be named the girl with the most potential in the entire Republic, but life isn’t always what you expect, and not always in a bad way.
Metias grins so wide that she thinks his face will fall apart and ruffles her hair and looks proud enough to burst.
She’s fifteen and Metias is dead.
Metias is dead and they say that it was a car accident, that he died the way June’s parents did. June goes cold down through her skin and bones, down to her very core.
She cries for two hours and trains for six, screams and freezes the Academy’s training grounds beneath five inches of ice and walks out in a blizzard of sharp, frozen shards.
And then she discovers the notes in Metias’ journals, she hacks into the Republic accounts, she finds out.
Metias didn’t die in a car accident. Metias was killed.
She gets found out - she was never as good at hacking as her big brother - and then the Republic tries to get rid of her.
June slips past them and drops the house into freezing temperatures and runs.
A week later she finds the Patriots, because she’s fifteen and powerful, because she’s fifteen and alone and her big brother is dead and she’s angry, so angry she can’t breathe. Because she’s June Imparis and they’ve taken the only person she loved with all her heart and she hates.
Because she was never as good a person as Metias and she wants to break things, she wants to shatter the whole world in her fury. Because she wants to fix things. Because life isn’t fair and she knows that, she knows, but it should be. It should be better.
The Patriots fight because they hate the system of the Republic, the unfairness, the Trials. June figures that they’ll get along just fine.
(She knows before joining that she’ll be sent to the front lines, where the Patriots are waging war against Republic soldiers, but she does it anyway.
June Imparis, ladies and gentlemen. Princess of ice, prodigy of the Republic. Queen of ice and snow, the girl with blizzards at her fingers and avalanches in her veins.)
“Why’re you here?” A Patriot soldier asks, once.
June shoots him a look, because they cleared this ages ago. They figured that she wasn’t a spy when the Republic sent out wanted posters and tried to assassinate her with a dozen soldiers. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not that way, jeez! I mean, why’d you come? You could’ve gone anywhere, why’d you come here?”
June glances up at him, then looks back at the ground.
“They killed my brother,” she says, voice dark, anger filling her chest and threatening to suffocate her. “I found out, and then they tried to kill me.”
The soldier whistles beside her. “Damn.” A hand lands on her head and she jerks away; the soldier just laughs. “Don’t get so worried, girlie, we ain’t gonna hurt you here. You’ll get on well with Day.”
Day, the Republic’s most wanted criminal, who mysteriously joined the Patriots just over a month ago. Day, a mage with fire in his blood, who burnt Republic ships to nothing but twisted metal and ash. Day, who no one’s ever been able to catch.
June frowns. “Why’s he here? He’s been independent of the Patriots for years, what changed?”
“What I heard, the Republic got his family. Didn’t know it was his, of course, he’s too smart to let anyone know, but his little brother… the kid’s a genius, I heard. Literal magic fingers, can make machines with anything. Gift of technology. His mother died trying to protect him, and the family’s oldest son was captured with him.”
“A gift of technology?” It must be especially powerful, since that gift is fairly common.
“Yeah.” The soldier nods, eyes turned dark. “And if he can make machines…”
“He can make weapons,” June finishes, voice a breath.
“You’re a sharp one, girlie.” The soldier doesn’t sound impressed, just tired, grin approving but worn. “Day figured our interests would be aligned. We work together to get the kid without killing him, and Day’ll help us with whatever we need. With firepower like his, it works out pretty well.”
“Day’s never killed before,” June says. “I’ve seen his files.”
“Not before he joined,” the soldier agrees, and suddenly June feels overwhelmingly sick.
She meets Day at the edge of the campsite, a boy with blond hair and brilliant blue eyes that remind her of skies reflected in ice.
“Hello, cousin.” He’s sitting on a log, letting fire dance across his fingers. “Haven’t seen you around before.”
“I’m a new recruit,” June tells him, and he nods like he was expecting this. His eyes are bright but absent.
“What’s your name?”
“June Imparis,” she tells him. He looks up.
“You’re a Gem sector kid.”
“How did you know that?”
He nods at her, letting the fire in his palms reach a little higher. “Your accent. Your name. The way you stand.”
“You’re pretty sharp.”
Day shrugs. “Why’re you here?”
"You’re from a Gem sector. You’ve got money, power, food. Anything you want. Why’d you come here?”
“The Republic killed my brother.” June feels that old, ugly anger rise in her gut and up her throat. “He was all the family I had.”
“Or you could be a spy,” Day says, not aggressive, just matter-of-fact. It makes June angry anyway.
“I’m not a spy,” she snaps. “You want proof? Take me with you the next time you fight. I’ll turn their blood to ice.” He makes an absent noise and fury crashes through her. She crosses her arms - “I thought you’d understand losing family, with what happened to yours.”
Day’s shoulders tense, whole body going still. The fire in his hands flares bigger, brighter, angrier. “Hold your tongue, cousin.”
Instinctively, June draws ice to her fingertips, but when she looks at him Day’s face is lined with frustrated worry, exhaustion and pain and steel twisted into something hurting in his eyes. He looks tired, looks old.
“Sorry,” June says, angry at herself for the careless cruelty. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Day scowls, not looking at her. “David needs to stop blabbering about it.”
“I asked. I wanted to know why you were on the front lines.”
Day glances at her. “So why are you here? Revenge?”
“I’m not fighting for revenge,” June says, and when she thinks about it the honesty of that surprises her. “I’m fighting for change.”
She meets his eyes and the intensity of his gaze takes her breath away. He watches her carefully, analytically, like he’s looking right through her.
Eventually he nods. “I reckon that’s a good reason to fight.”
June cracks a smile. “So is yours.”
He grins at her, and it surprises her how it throws light into his eyes and brightens his face. “Sorry ‘bout calling you a spy. I guess a spy would be smarter than to let us know they’re from a Gem sector, anyway.”
June nods. “I would, at least.”
He tips his head to the log beside him. “Want to take a seat?”
“Sure.” She settles beside him, warmed by the heat of his flames. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and she begins to talk before things get awkward. “You’re from Lake sector?”
He slants a look at her, surprised. “That I am. How did you know?”
“You called me 'cousin’. Lake sector slang.”
“Sharp,” he says, nodding. The ball of fire between his hands expands, and he pulls it closer to his chest, like he’s cold.
June can relate. She’s felt cold since the day Metias was killed, since she found that she’s been living a lie, since the world turned on its ear and tipped her right out. She absently materialises a ball of ice between her palms, shifts it through the basic shapes students learn in school.
A perfect sphere, then an oval, a triangle, a square. Then more complicated ones - a heart, a flower, a butterfly. A toy bear, a rabbit, a bird.
A dog, like Ollie, who looked like he’d been made of powdered snow. Something in her chest aches fiercely, and she glares because her eyes are prickling and hot.
Day whistles beside her, and she realises that he’s been watching her all this time. She looks up at him, but he doesn’t look anywhere near annoyed; just examines the dog in her hands for a long moment.
The fire in front of him begins to shift, and then there’s a replica of her ice dog in his hands, mirrored in flames. Day frowns. “It’s not quite right.”
“The ears are floppier,” June says, “and the paws are bigger.”
He makes the necessary adjustments, grins. He cups his palms like he’s tossing it at her and the fire dog leaps from his palms, prances in front of June for a moment before running back to Day.
June smiles and tilts her hands towards him. The dog bounds out towards Day, the way Ollie would to greet her after she came home from school, and Day laughs. It sounds like music filtering through the trees.
“Fire and ice,” he says, and June grins.
Day is the Patriot’s greatest weapon, the human equivalent of an atomic bomb, an inferno, a storm.
The first mission June gets with him, he gets a kill order over the radio, and his face shuts down completely. He ducks his head, lets too-long blond hair fall to hide his eyes.
When he looks up, his eyes are very dark, very cold. “No other choice?”
“This is war,” the voice says, crackling with radio static. “People die.”
“I know that, cousin. But unnecessary kills aren’t the way to go, yeah?”
“The only way to win is to whittle down their forces. Keep this up, your little brother’s never gonna be found- or, hey, maybe they’ll have him build an atomic bomb and blow us all to kingdom come, wouldn’t that be ironic-”
“Fine,” Day snarls, lip curling over sharp white teeth. “Fine, I’ll do it, shut up.” He slams a finger into the radio, cuts off the broadcast. “Goddy bastards.”
There’s a girl who can see through walls with them, and she narrows her grey eyes when they get to the camp. They slip in and gather the data they need.
Through the thin tent walls, they overhear a soldier talking about how much he misses his family, laughing about his kid, and Day goes very tense, very still.
They slip out again, and the girl nods at Day. Day takes a breath, eyes hard, and raises a hand. Smoke billows up towards the dark sky, and suddenly the camp is burning, fire raging dark and angry and spitting dark choking smog. The flames are blinding in the black night. Even at this distance, June can feel the heat.
She thinks of the man, of the kid waiting for her daddy to come home, and she feels sick sick sick.
“Let’s go,” the girl says, and Day drops his hand, shaking. He takes a step and staggers, falling to his knees like the ground is yanking him down. His breaths come ragged and shaky, and he bites out a trembling curse.
“Day?” June drops by his side, takes in his pale face and wide, glazed eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Backlash,” Day snarls, trying to get to his feet. He can’t seem to get his legs beneath him.
June grabs his arm, pulling it over her shoulder, and hauls him up. He tries to support his own weight and stumbles. “What backlash? Magic doesn’t have backlash, it’s a natural occurrence, it’s like a muscle, you just get tired-” that was a lot of magic Day used, a lot of power - terrifying, deadly, terrible, but June can tell from his dilated eyes and white face that this isn’t just magic exhaustion. “What backlash?”
“Not now,” he hisses. “The jeep. Fast!”
She gets him to the jeep, just in time. He falls into the seat and brings his knees to his chest, breaths coming ragged and broken, and then he chokes out a scream, ragged and hurting and when June touches his arm, his skin is fever-hot, is burning like coals. Day convulses, chokes, sucks in a breath. It sounds like he can’t breathe.
“What’s wrong with him?” June demands. Day makes a broken, strangled noise. “This isn’t normal!”
The girl starts the jeep. “His magic isn’t normal. Gives him backlash. He’ll be out of commission for a bit, but this much isn’t too bad. He should be walking by the time we get back.”
“This isn’t too bad?”
“He’ll be fine,” the girl says, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “He always is.”
He always is. Even after killing an entire camp of people, of men and women and brothers and sisters and parents, of people like Metias-
-Day makes an awful, aching sound, like someone ripped him wide open and dug fingers into raw lungs, and June shuts her eyes. What he did was unforgivable. What the Patriots are doing- it’s awful and inhumane and wrong, and despite their claims it’s nothing but murder and what’s the point of overtaking a country if there’s no people left to save? It won’t help.
But what will? June doesn’t even know, can barely breathe, can’t close her eyes without seeing angry flames and smoke. Day’s gasping beside her, hurting, and he just wants to save his baby brother. June can’t promise that she wouldn’t rip the world in two to get her big brother back.
She swallows, summons ice to her fingers, and pushes back Day’s fringe with cool hands; presses her icy palm to his forehead, fingers shaking. He moans raggedly, leaning into her touch.
An eternity later, his breathing evens out, and he looks up at her with glassy eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbles, trying to sit up. June pulls his forehead onto her shoulder, hand wrapped around the feverish base of his neck.
Day goes limp against her, breaths deep and shaky. “Yeah,” he says, and June doesn’t call him out on the lie.
Day stumbles away when they get to camp. June follows him, and finds him throwing up in the woods.
“Backlash?” she asks, holding back his sweat-damp hair as he gasps raggedly for breath. His skin’s cooled, though, a little warm but not much more than usual.
He shuts his eyes, but June catches the flicker of aching hurt. “You could say that.”
“You don’t like it. You don’t like killing.”
Day laughs, broken and splintered into millions of fragmented bits. “Sweetheart,” he says, “what sort of goddy trot likes to kill?”
“You could stop. You could stop, there has to be another way-”
“Eden,” he says.
“Eden. My baby brother. I’ve got to get him back. And John- they took John, too, I can’t-” Day breaks off, takes a breath. “I can’t leave them there.”
June bites her lip, thinks of fire and smoke and parents melted to bone and ash. “Is it worth it?”
Day opens his eyes, and he looks so tired it makes her ache. And still, still, his eyes are steadfast blue and stubborn, glittering with determination.
“Yes,” he says.
“What’s your brother like? Eden?”
They’re sitting on the grass at the corner of the camp, damp dirt between their fingers and the blue sky above their heads. Day shrugs.
“Great kid,” he says. “He was always messing with tech and stuff. Built machines all the time- when he was four, he build a catapult to fire water balloons at the plants.” He grins, sharp but soft at the edges, at the corners of his eyes. “He was always the smartest, you know? We were thinking that he’d be the lucky one, get though the goddy Trial easy and get some sort of scholarship, maybe.” Day spreads his hands out, holding them against the sky. “Eden Bataar Wing, greatest engineer of his age-” his arms drop like broken wings “-guess you’ve really gotta be careful what you wish for.”
Eden is the greatest engineer of his age, or close. That’s why he’s been taken by the Republic, that’s why their family is dead, that’s why Day joined the Patriots and kills and kills and kills, even when it hurts him and sends fire across his skin. June shuts her eyes.
“Why did you start breaking the law, all those years ago?”
“I wanted to help people.” Day’s voice is heavy, is tired. Helping people has only gotten him a bounty on his head and blood on his hands. “Grew up in the slums, yeah? There was never enough food or money, and the plague came every year. Always scared.”
“Why didn’t you just go to a good university, then? With your abilities, you could have gotten really far. You could have made better changes, more long-lasting. It’d help people more in the long-term.”
Day laughs, startled and sharp and bitter. “I failed my Trial, cousin. And people needed help right then.”
June’s eyes snap open, and she stares at him. “Mages never fail their Trials. Not ones as strong as you. ”
Day looks at her, the boy who can hold fire without being burnt, who wields it as a weapon and draws it close like a friend.
“I wasn’t a mage back then,” he says.
“I wasn’t born with this, didn’t you know?” He lets fire flicker in his palms, dance up his arms. “That’s why it’s so strong, and why there’s those side effects after. I’m not meant to have so much power.” He shrugs. “I’m not meant to have power at all.”
“That’s impossible, you’re either born with it or you’re not.” She knows people have tried, but they failed, and failed, and failed. There are stories of the experiments in her old textbooks, of blood and broken children and blown-up research centres, of kids’ hearts giving out beneath the weight of power they weren’t meant to hold.
“That’s what you’d think, right? But the night of my Trial, they experimented on me. Hurt like fire.” He laughs, something like bitter, at the irony. “They thought I died; mortality rate’s pretty high, I guess.” He shrugs. “Woke up in the basement with the rest of the bodies.”
June can’t breathe. She stares at him, and he slants a tired grin at her. “You were supposed to be in a labour camp,” she says. “Why were you-”
“Don’t you get it?” Day’s eyes are dark, are hard. “There are no labour camps, June. Just morgues in hospital basements.”
Warning: self-indulgent self-hatred and paranoia. I’m so sorry for all of the angst I’m putting these poor characters through. I’m like shoving all my problems on to them please forgive me. It’s Patton who suffers this time (also it’s a human au lol).
Paring: Logicality if ya squint
Summary: he could be stuck in this judgement hall forever
You'vs been warned
Patton walked down the street. It was thirty past one…am. He had walked to the local gas station to get some chips because he was hungry. He had quickly lost track of time because of work and didn’t notice his hunger until Logan snapped him out of his focus.
Now he felt as if millions upon millions of eyes watched him. They judged him. As he walked down the sidewalk with his plastic bag of chips in tow. These gazes pierced Patton’s skin as they seemed judged him for his choice to eat chips. They seemed to rake his body and tell him to throw the chips away because he was too fat. One could argue it was a judgement hall.
But no one thought for a second that he could be stuck in that judgement hall forever. Every time he’d try to leave it behind something always pulled him back. Patton was bound to an endless cycle of judgment from the nonexistent watchful eyes that loomed around him.
Patton shoved his earbuds in hastily as he turned on upbeat music to occupy the loud silence that he always dreaded. He wish he were back home with Logan. The one he trusted and relied on, maybe a little too much.