#[ laptop has been giving me issues lately ]

[inkmchine]

Bendy finally receives a few pies! With each one being a different flavor as well.

now he didn't expect to actually celebrate. they lacked the means after the studio was left abandoned. at most, he planned something simple; a evening with his sketchbook, && the cartoons. reminiscing over old memories.

so imagine his surprise when he entered the theater. expecting to see empty chairs, && instead spotting baked goods. left on a couple of the seats alongside necessary utensils. he froze in his tracks—gawking at the sight before him.

aside from the reels they brought, the chairs had been unoccupied. && bendy swore they had only been gone for a minute. where in pluto's beard did these come from? they narrow their eyes && scan the room. checking if anything else was out of place.

reels were still there, && so was their sketchbook. everything looked untouched, but he wasn't taking any chances here. he turns on his heel && headed out of the theater. nope, he wasn't eating any surprise desserts today.

[sheerfreesia007]

Login Confessions

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Word count: 1,666

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: The house rules were no work when the two of you hung out. But what happens when Chan really needs to get out his creative idea before he loses it and confesses to you because of your need for him to relax?

Jagi: Sweetheart

The drama that’s playing on the television has Chan hooked as he lounges on your comfy couch with his long legs splayed out taking up nearly the whole couch. You’re curled up in your own corner of the couch and Chan teasingly digs his toes into your thigh making you scowl softly at him before you grab his toes and lift his foot into your lap. He giggles softly when he feels your fingers begin to dig into the bottom of his foot to begin massaging him. Groaning low in his throat he throws his head back onto the couch as your fingers hit a certain spot on his foot that makes a shiver run up his spine as he relaxes back into the couch.

“That feels so good.” he groans out and you chuckle softly as your fingers continue to massage his foot until he’s almost boneless. Chan smiles softly as his head rolls to face you and he scrunches his nose at you making you chuckle again.

“You’re silly when you’re relaxed.” you tease him gently and his soft smile turns into a grin.

“Can’t help it when I’m with you.” he says earnestly and you duck your head at his compliment causing him to grin at your shy attitude. “You just make me feel so happy and giddy and relaxed.” he said fondly as he looked over at you watching as a pretty blush began to dust your cheeks as you rolled your eyes at him.

The two of you had been friends for a couple of years at this point and Chan had started noticing that lately whenever he teased you and tried flirting with you you’d grow flustered or would blush prettily under his attentions. It had shocked him the first time he noticed it a month ago, he had just made an offhand comment that you looked pretty in a new shirt you had bought and it made your cheeks flush sweetly as you avoided eye contact with him. From that moment on he would notice how you’d have the same reaction to anytime he complimented you or got a little too flirtatious with you, it was absolutely addicting to him and made his heart race whenever he noticed your reaction.

It wasn’t until Changbin of all people had pulled him aside one night and asked him what was going on between you and him. He had told Chan that he noticed how sweet he’d been lately with you and how shyly you’d react to him and wanted to know what was going on if anything. Chan had confessed that he didn’t know what had changed between the two of you, you were always close and cuddly as friends but now since he’d noticed your reaction to him he wanted to always pull that reaction from you. Changbin had teased him that his eyes were finally open to his love for you and that had shocked Chan down to his core. Was he in love with you? Has he always been in love with you? After his talk with Changbin he had taken a couple of days to reflect on it all and he had come to the conclusion that there had always been a silent love between the two of you that he hadn’t realized was there. But now that he had shone a light on it he was eager to explore it with you, which was why he had started the compliments and the flirting.

Just then Chan gasped as inspiration suddenly gripped his whole being and he instantly knew how to move forward with a track that had been giving him trouble this past week. He began to dart his eyes around your living room avidly searching for his backpack that he had brought with him just in case anyone called him with any issues that he would need to fix. He always had his laptop with him just in case.

He sits up on the couch pulling his foot from your grasp and you look over at him with a furrowed brow before you notice what he’s doing and you frown softly. Chan doesn’t see your reaction to his search for his backpack but he does see the notepad and pen that you hold up in front of his face and he groans softly at the gesture. 

Ever since you’d been friends you had a standing rule that when he was hanging out with you he had to be fully committed to just hanging out. No work was to be done while you two were together unless it was an emergency. It didn’t mean that he couldn’t jot down his ideas for song lyrics or tracks but no laptop unless one of the boys called needing his specific help. Normally it was an easy rule to follow and Chan loved that you upheld it with him because he truly did need the wind down time from work, but right now his idea for the track wouldn’t be solved by jotting down his idea he knew he had to get on his laptop and create it before he lost the creative idea.

Turning to you he grimaced softly when he saw your frown before he raised his hands in a praying motion and your frown deepened even more. He felt guilt begin to swirl inside of him as he stared at you with wide eyes and you began to shake your head.

”You know the rules.” You said softly and he quickly nodded his head at you.

”I know, I know. But I’ve got this idea for the track that’s been giving me such a hard time and if I don’t get it done in the mixing program I’m probably going to lose the idea. And it’s a really good idea.” He pleaded with you softly and you sighed loudly at his reasoning.

”You can’t just write it down?” You asked him, sounding resigned and Chan felt the guilt begin to bubble in his lower stomach. Chan knew you were only trying to make sure that he took time for himself and to be able to step away from work, which he appreciated your effort so much because he really was able to relax with you but this idea was almost fleeting and he was desperate to get it down.

“Please Jagi, it’ll only take a few minutes I swear. I just need my laptop.” He pleaded with you again hopeful that you’d give him his laptop so that he could get it done quickly. You sigh loudly and Chan feels the guilt eat away at his insides before watching you reach over the side of the couch and pull his laptop out of his backpack.

Relief floods his system and he goes to reach for the laptop but you quickly wrap your arms around the laptop and hold it close to your chest as you stare at him with challenging eyes. His eyes dart down to his laptop and back up at you watching as your face stares at him sternly for a moment before grinning beautifully at him. He feels the breath knock clean out of his lungs as he stares at you before you lean towards him with a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

”What’s the magic word?” You ask softly as you flutter your eyelashes at him and he knows it’s a distraction tactic that normally would work on him if the creative idea didn’t have such a strong hold on him. He smiles softly as he leans forward until his lips are within an inch of yours and watches delightedly as your eyes widen slightly and your breath becomes a soft pant.

”I love you.” He whispers to you while lowering his eyelids slightly in a lustful gaze right before he reaches forward and snatches the laptop from you and turns away so that he can quickly open it to boot up the program he needs to create the idea he has. He hears you loud sigh and smirks softly to himself as he quickly works before shutting down the laptop only a few minutes after booting it up. He sets the laptop onto your coffee table and turns to find you pouting in your corner of the couch with your arms crossed over your chest as you stared at the television. He grins widely as he notices your eyes tracking him while still staring ahead of you choosing not to give him any of your attention now.

He grins wolfishly as he moves onto the couch on all fours before he lunges forward and wraps a hand around your ankle before yanking you down the couch until your back was pressed to the couch cushions and he was hovering over you. You pout more while you turn your head to still stare at the television and he feels his chest tighten with delight at your attitude. Leaning down towards you he slowly drags his nose up and down your neck feeling you shiver at the sensation.

”Jagi.” He coos at you and you huff softly making his heart sing. “C’mon Jagi. I just confessed to you.” He coos at you trying to get you to turn to him when suddenly you do with a soft scowl on your face.

”You confessed and didn’t even kiss me.” You cry out to him indignantly and he grins softly at you while you pout once more. “You’re a tease Chan.” You whine out and he smirks down at you softly.

”Then do something about it Jagi.” He coos softly and suddenly your hands come up to grip his shirt tightly before dragging him down on top of you before your lips slant against his deliciously making him groan into your mouth.

”I love you too pabo.” You say softly against his mouth and Chan grins ecstatically before diving back in for another heated kiss that has the two of you melting against each other.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken

[cyripticchronicler]

Hiii I have a request for Matt Murdock I was thinking him with an reader who’s job has gotten more stressful and it starts to get to them they get dizzy and lightheaded but brush it off until it happens around Matt and he can sense that it happened and he gets all protective and caring

Preferably fem reader but gn is also totally fine so everyone can enjoy it !

If this isn’t your cup of tea I totally get that !

In His Arms

Thank you for requesting, sweetie. I kind of went off track a little and I'm sorry :( (If you want me to rewrite it I happily will!) But either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Overwhelmed by your growing workload and the pressure to prove yourself, you keep your struggles hidden—even from Matt. When the stress leads to a breakdown, he pulls you back, reminding you that love means sharing the load.

TW: Panic attack, mentions of anxiety, pet names (I can't help it), swearing

Masterlist

Stress was a familiar feeling to you. Its sharp claws seemed always to be gripping onto you tightly. You’ve learnt how to manage the lack of air in your lungs and the painful squeezing of your heart whenever you go through a rough patch. 

That’s why the feeling of anxiety creeping up your spine was carelessly ignored. You regret that you shrugged the feeling away, too focused on your work. It’s much easier to calm your bones' nervous trembles before it worsens. 

But now it’s too late. 

You’ve been so distracted by your work. Your colleague had just gone on maternity leave after giving birth to twins. You weren’t sure what would happen to her workload, but you certainly didn’t think it would all be passed down to you. 

Now all your brain can seem to focus on is the deadlines coming closer by the minute. They flash in your mind each time you consider taking a break. You never take a break - this is your one chance to prove to your boss that you’re ready to take on more responsibility. The rumours floating around the office of potential promotions, motivating your hard work ethic. 

You’ve always been a hard worker; had always been distracted by what you consider important rather than what was essential- like eating, or sleeping. Each time you got away with it. You didn’t have anyone to look after you. 

Until Matt came along. 

He’s such an attentive man and would be even without his heightened senses. You knew he’d be worried about your desperation to complete your work, completely gone to the rest of the world as your stomach grumbled louder and your under eyes got darker. 

He’s a natural worrier. That’s what compelled you to keep your stress a secret. It’s hard lying to a human lie detector,  so you’ve taken to avoiding instead. It’s easy to avoid him when you’re so busy, anyway. A couple of messages per day seems to keep him subdued for now and you’re glad; it’s all the attention you could offer.

Your lip is pulled between your teeth, chewing hard enough to draw the taste of metallic blood. None of the words before you make sense through your blurry eyesight. As you attempt to read the same sentence for the third time, you angrily rip off your glasses and groan. 

Black spots take over your vision as you rub at your eyes aggressively, hoping the sickeningly dizzy feeling that’s making your throat feel tight will go away. It’s useless, yet you only allow yourself a second break before gulping down some water and returning to work. 

Your phone rings as soon as your fingertips touch the keys of your laptop and a curse slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. You hate yourself for the spark of annoyance that has your blood boiling when you read Matt’s name on your phone. 

He’d already left three messages from before. As well as a voice message that you hadn’t yet listened to; you were practically forced to answer the phone so as not to draw concern. You’re determined not to burden him with your issues - he’s a vigilante for God’s sake, he doesn’t need your petty problems on top of his own. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.” His deep voice crackles through your phone speaker. Instantly, your shoulders relax and your eyes flutter shut. He’s the bright sun during cold days, the flowers during winter; beautiful and everything you long to see.

“Hey, Matt.” You respond lazily, mustering up enough energy to open your eyes and read the words on your laptop screen. You use one hand to type while the other holds your phone to your ear. You can hear his smile in his voice. “I’ve barely talked to you all day. I thought you were coming to mine for dinner. Did you get my voicemail?”

Guilt nags at your stomach. “I’m so sorry, Matt,” the little sigh you can hear through the other line has your heart splintering, “I’ve just been so busy with staying on top of my work as well as Mara’s-”

“It’s okay. I know how busy you’ve been. I could come by with dinner. I can do some work while you do yours.” You hate to diminish the hope in his voice, but you know he'd be worried about your obvious stress as it shines through in your old clothing and unbrushed hair (not that he’d be able to see but feel). 

“Can we do a raincheck?” You whisper, guilt nagging at your stomach. His voice is so sweet. So understanding. It makes you want to cry. “Of course, baby. Try to eat, please. And take breaks. I’ll call you tomorrow; maybe we can go out for lunch.”

“Maybe,” If I’ve got enough work done, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You drop your phone on your lap as soon as the call ends. For once, you’re thankful for the large amounts of work, as it distracts you from the guilt that claws and tugs at your skin. 

⚝⚝⚝

The second time Matt calls, you’re nose-deep in paperwork that was slammed down on your desk. ‘More of Mara’s work,’ your boss said before leaving you with the rasing anxiety in your chest. Thoughts of taking your lunch break didn’t even assimilate in the blurry haze of your mind. 

Only the shrill ring of your phone brought you out of your bubble of work. Sighing, you don’t bother to check the name before picking it up, as you already know who it is. “Hey, Matt.” Your hand still scribbles words on the paper, phone pressed awkwardly against your ear by your shoulder.

“Hey. I called to see if you wanted lunch, but you sound busy.” Unlike last time, his voice doesn’t soothe your racing heart. If anything he makes it worse. “I’m so sorry,” you hope he can hear the sincerity in your voice, “I miss you. As soon as the crazy amount of work has subsided, I’ll call you.”

“Is there any way I can help?” You can’t help but smile at his caring nature, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But you know if you went to lunch you’d be too focused on work to be good company. “Remember that I love you?”

His laugh makes your heart melt, anxiety melting away with it. “Of course. As long as you remember that I love you. I won’t call so I don’t distract you from your work, but please take care of yourself. I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too.” You hang up the phone and instead of returning to work immediately, you just sit there in silence, staring at the piles of paperwork in front of you. The sting of unshed tears joined by a nervous feeling in your stomach is enough to make you want to throw up. You’re so tired. 

You should have listened to your body. You should have gone out for lunch and taken a break. But instead, you got back to work, ignoring the bright red signs of a panic attack on the rise. 

⚝⚝⚝

Having been diagnosed with anxiety when you were younger, you’ve learned to identify signs of an upcoming panic attack. First, you begin to feel dizzy, then a little lightheaded. Your heart begins to hurt, and your stomach starts to turn. Then you can’t breathe, and you’re scratching at your skin to give your lungs more space to breathe. 

Now, as you stand in your kitchen, staring at the piles of paperwork that cover the dining room table, it’s hard to ignore how your body reacts to the sight of the never-ending workload; the feelings you so carelessly ignored before forced to be brought to attention. 

Your eyesight is unfocused, and you are unable to concentrate on the hand you’re using to prepare a small dinner. Your hands violently shake by your side and feel incredibly weak. But that isn’t what worries you; it’s the lack of air entering your lungs that has your eyes squeezed shut. 

Feelings of worthlessness travel up your throat and block your airways. You’re having a panic attack. The realization has you sliding down the fridge and to the floor, tears running freely down your flushed cheeks. You bring your knees to your chest, hands scratching at your throat as if it would allow air into your beaten lungs. 

Your body feels so weak, you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you tried. You’re lost to the darkness and anguish the past weeks have wrought upon you; lost to the cruel insecurities your mind created to fool you into this vicious despair. 

No matter how hard you cry, how hard you claw and scrape at your skin, you still can’t breathe. Hopelessness washes over your chilled skin, pulling you into its shadows. You can do nothing but let it take you as its own, the fight for air warring off as you succumb to the darkness that spots your eyes. 

And as your eyes flutter shut, you fail to notice the opening of the window in the living room. You fail to notice the hurried steps and the gloved hands that hold your face gently. Or the man’s desperate calls of your name. 

⚝⚝⚝

The first thing you notice when you regain consciousness is the exhaustion that wracks through your frail body. The second thing is the man who lays next to you on your bed. 

Matt. 

He’s sleeping peacefully, chest moving up and down in slow breaths. You frown, unsure of why he’s here. The last thing you remember was you freaking out about the workload and having a panic attack. You must have fainted from the lack of air, you consider then immediately cringe. How embarrassing. 

“What are you thinking about?” You jump at the sound of Matt’s deep voice, eyes shooting up to watch a small smile grace his face at your reaction. “Why are you here?” The question comes out ruder than you intended, but Matt’s smile doesn't waver. 

“I was on patrol,” he begins, pulling you into his warm embrace, “and figured I’d stop by to check on you. I wasn’t going to come in, just listen-”

“-that’s not creepy at all-”

“-then I heard you panicking. Your heart was beating really fast and you were breathing really heavily. You were already passed out from lack of air by the time I was inside.” He pulls you in tighter like the moment still haunts him. You trace your fingertips gently down his bare arm, ear against his chest as you listen to his heartbeat. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asks when it became clear you weren’t going to speak. You sigh. “I’ve been a little stressed lately. And I should’ve listened to my body but I didn’t. There’s just so much work and such little time. I can’t handle all of this workload.” The familiar bite of tears has you shoving your head in Matt’s neck, letting him hold you tightly and reassure you that everything will be okay. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked through your stress together,” He questions quietly and you shake your head in response. “You take the burden of everyone else’s problems, and still go out every night to face all the bad guys- I just didn’t want to burden you with my problems on top of all the rest.”

He pulls away and you try not to frown at the lack of contact. Slowly, his fingers move under your chin and compel you to look into his beautiful, unfocused eyes that sparkle in the city lights shining through your windows. “You are not a burden. Your problems are not a burden. I want to be here for you. I want you to tell me what’s going on in that smart little head of yours-” He flicks your forehead playfully before giving it a small kiss “-And I want you to know you can talk to me.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling like a child that’s just been scolded. “Okay.” He lays there in silence for a moment, seemingly contemplating his words before he speaks, “I think you need to talk to your boss,” you open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off with a gentle squeeze, “This amount of work isn’t healthy. I mean, why hasn’t the workload been separated and passed around to all of your co-workers? It’s fucking stupid if you ask me. She’s obviously taking advantage of your brilliance-”

“-Matt,” You cut him off with an amused smile. His eyes glint at the sound of your giggles as if that was his mission all along and he won first place. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me. If anything I’m being selfish.” He grins cheekily, kissing your palm as it raises to cup his cheek. “And why, pray tell, are you being selfish?” Your smile is sly and knowing. 

“Because I’m doing this to get my beautiful girl back and into my arms. Foggy isn’t as good company as you, y’know.” You giggle, holding him tightly as your mind settles on a decision. “I’ve missed you too.”

Tomorrow you’ll call your boss and ask for a lessened workload. But for now, you’re just going to lay in bed with the man you love dearly and let him hold you tightly. 

[yinwaryuri]

I cannot begin to summarize how Monster Next Door finally portrayed a flawed parent getting a good ending in a way that satisfied me. I have such beef with Thai BLs constantly giving our mains difficult parents, terrible asshole parents even, and then just justifying the way they treated their child like shit as being parental love and their kid accepts an apology (not you Bed Friend, the holy grail of giving shitty parents their due).

The tension between Diew and his mother, Kade, is obvious, and I was really afraid that the issue would be brushed off as casually as all the rest, due to my past viewing experiences. For a good portion of the show, she seemed overly concerned and harsh toward Diew and it really bothered me.

It was this visual that made things really click for me:

(also I'm sorry for the quality of photos of the show, Gaga now seems to turn the screen black when I try to take a screenshot on my laptop, so I took them with my phone)

Loss of a loved one is hard to talk about with strangers, but it's often more difficult to discuss it with other loved ones who knew them. Diew's father meant everything to him in his childhood because their personalities and dispositions made it easier to enjoy spending time together. I cannot speak as a parent, but I can only imagine the loneliness generated by the loss of a partner (losing a main emotional support you now desperately need) and then watching your child deal with grief by withdrawing from you (a child you have, up until now, not established a relationship as close as your late partner had).

God had the fortune of meeting Diew in the present, and that allowed him to get to know him without any preconceived notions of who he was to influence that development. Kade didn't have that luxury; being a parent means seeing your child through every stage of life and adapting to the changes that come with them. I can only imagine how much harder that had to be when she became a single mother and the clash of personalities made it significantly harder to connect. At some point, she clearly clung to a version of Diew that at least made her feel relevant by presenting her love as wanting to remove all possible worries.

Grieving separately being the main wedge between them runs with some of the themes of the show, I believe. We've watched God and Diew grow together and sort out their differences because ultimately they wanted the same thing - to show they are interested and care for each other - but their challenges presented mostly in how they went about it. Diew and his mother also care about each other. The strain is part of that love and how it has also been weighed down by years of misunderstanding and uncertainty.

Kade recognizing her failure to meet Diew in the middle and letting him know how she felt about it was HUGE to me. So many people will refuse to recognize the failure, and if they do recognize it they do not want to admit it for what it is, much less voice how they feel about it. Also disappointment in one's self as a mother, I believe, is incredibly relatable. It doesn't absolve all wrongs, but it's an incredibly important factor in being willing to do better.

She isn't blaming him here. She isn't using his feelings against him. She apologized without trying to erase what happened. She is simply letting him know that all she wanted was to be closer.

And then Diew seizes the moment. He's grown up and become someone less recognizable to the person she already didn't know very well. That doesn't mean they can't work things out.

Of course this is the solution. This is the green flag communication boyfriends show. But moreover, it's about realizing that life and people come with differences and changes and that doesn't mean that things have to go wrong or end badly. Often the fears that get built up in our heads - the monsters we first perceive them as - are not as scary as they seem, if they are at all. If growth is going to happen, we have to face them.

Excuse me while I sob in the corner, but this response makes Diew such an exceptional character to me. It demonstrates how he has changed from the beginning of the narrative but also remained true to himself. He has always needed someone patient and kind enough to listen to him as attentively as God does. Being heard for what he needs has done him wonders. His struggle to reveal the things that deeply hurt him and seeing how not sharing them can hurt the people he loves in return was an important lesson. Now that his mom has finally shared her pain, the pain that started years ago by no fault of either of them, he can extend that love toward her in a way he knows will reach her.

Diew and his mother are equal in how they can move forward. The relationship isn't treated like a hole in the wall to putty over, but truly something that can be built upon a newer and stronger foundation. I greatly enjoyed the finale as a whole, but this aspect of it tugged at my heart strings personally. I adore this show. Forever and ever.

[afyrian]

line five - the switch up m.list

    "good morning line two! so, what would you like to talk it out about with me today?" your legs cross in your seat, a giddy smile on your face. 

  eyes glancing to the sound booth, sakusa's looking down at his gear. his hair falls forward into the same perfect swirls from the night before, only this time hairs slightly stick out from a night of rest. for the first time with him in the booth, you feel comfortable, relaxed. to the point of almost missing the caller's entire story.

  "-so i told him, what the hell! because seriously, who the hell goes on a date with someone and then talks about his ex the whole time? sorry eliza left you for some bodybuilder, but you are on a date with someone! then he told me that i'm being inconsiderate of his feelings," a young woman, probably a few years younger than you, vents on air.

  there's a tone of distress in her voice, one that carries with every word she says, "like, i'm a people pleaser and so suddenly i feel bad. even though in retrospect i probably shouldn't, right?"

  "well, caller, my rule of thumb is to never talk about an ex while on a date. sure, if you're in a long term relationship and you have fears regarding how you were treated in a previous one, then bring that up. but on a first date? just talk about your dream career or something," you grab ahold of a pen, tapping it against the table.

  "but you shouldn't have to feel bad about bringing up the fact that him talking about an ex is disrespectful to you and your time," taking in a deep breath, you can feel something inside of you want to turn your attention to sakusa again. 

  something about him intrigues you, past becoming friendly enough to do your job. talking to him the night before felt freeing. like you could talk about anything with him. 

  "i told atsumu that there was no way i would join his talk show. i love the dude but i was not going to talk about my 'late night rebounds' with him on the air," your elbow leans against the table, chin resting in your hand, eyes stuck staring into sakusa's. 

  sakusa nods, taking a bit of cake that was still left on his plate, "trust me, you are not the only victim of atsumu miya's talk show. he somehow convinced me to join his show for a day as his 'special guest'. most embarrassing moment of my life and i'm actually glad they forced me onto your show."

  "i'm glad too," you simply say, smiling at him until you feel your heart racing quicker, "that they forced you onto my show too, since you are a phenomenal sound engineer."

  "right," he agrees, turning his head away as you compliment him. 

  you’re brought back to the world when the girl laments about how you’re probably right. the only issue being that she’s already apologized to the man, nearly planning a second date with him. your jaw drops as you listen to her, head leaning forward and resting against the palms of your hands. “should i message him again? tell him that what he did was unacceptable?” 

  “no, your conversation has ended. bringing him back into your life will only prolong your discomfort, you know?” you ask, trying to appear more personable, knowing the way you’ve been speaking has been more clinical, “save your own peace and move on.”

  she pauses for a moment, your foot tapping incessantly against the flooring. “yeah… you’re probably right. none of my friends really got my problem so talking to someone is comforting,” the caller laughs, a quiet and gentle laugh. 

  waiting until she hangs up, your finger hovers over the laptop, a song waiting to play. “well, now that we understand setting boundaries a little better, let’s play a song. i’m thinking today we’ll give ‘misses’ by dominic fike, a listen,” you start the song, gaze flickering back to sakusa for only a second.

  staring back at the light indicating your mic is on, it turns off, giving you the opportunity to get up and stretch your legs. pushing back from the table, you make your way to sakusa, your hands resting in your pockets. walking up to the sound booth door, you lean against the doorframe. there he sits, staring down at his phone.

  “uh, would you want to grab some coffee while the song plays? i have a couple extra songs ready in case it takes us a minute,” you crack the door open, talking to him with a smile across your lips.

  sakusa looks up at you, his eyebrows furrowing. instead of accepting your invitation, he shakes his head, lips pursed, “one of us should be here in case something happens. plus i’m not really feeling like coffee right now.”

  his attention immediately returns to his phone, his headphones propped up on his ears. you can feel your face scrunch up into a disgusted expression. the last night was nice, talking to him was nice. and now he’s acting like you didn’t bore your life plans and dreams to him. that the two of you didn’t have a genuine connection the night before. 

  stepping back from the door, you take in a deep breath, shaking your head. a part of you wants to believe that it’s merely him being tired, even hungover. however, you nearly catch his gaze as he looks back up at you, a sullen feeling boring into you. 

a/n: happy birthday jade!! 🎉 taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@jadeoru @yessimo @lale-txt @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sugacor3

@quikhs @todorokiskitten @mollyrolls @honeyfewr @pookiebearcave

@phoenix-eclipses @madiexuberant @kameyyy @cr4yolaas @asrichin

@bakugouswh0r3 @bakingcuriosity @zazathezaer @diorzs

[billybangbang]

Fuck, he has a beard

Billy Butcher x reader

In this story, I made Becca Butcher's sister just because I can but also I think it would be interesting to see how he would be especially with a reader who acts like a big sister to Hughie.

Summary: Hughie is on a revenge path and Butcher is more than happy to help. He lost someone to the Supes too. His sister Becca. They came from an abusive household and after Lenny's death, Butcher gets his sister out of there too. The two moved to New York where Becca gets a job at Vought and soon after goes missing. Y/N older cousin of Hughie, wants to cheer him up with some takeout. She wants to have some dinner in the store after closing when some invisible shit decides otherwise. Entrance of some devilish handsome man named Butcher.

Y/N: She/her

Without describing the reader, I use neutral language as possible. However, some character traits:

The reader is older than Hughie

the cousin of Hughie

Due to some struggles early on in life she had a late start to Uni

She is over the normal college age but still doing her Master's

Disability struggles mentioned such as anxiety and later on going deeper into this issue and where her anxiety comes from

Slowburn and I mean SLOW.

Warnings Overall for the story: nudity, violence, sexual content, blood, gore, all the boys warnings basically. Smut in later chapters.

Non-native English speaker, and dyslexic

Prolog 

You were walking to your next class when you got the call. “Something happened to Robin.” You immediately felt your heart drop. The voice on the other side was shaky. Breathing in deeply you moved out of the mass of students trying to get to their next class. “Is - is she okay?” You watched the other students walk past you with smiles on their faces, chatting excitedly or sipping on their Chai Latte. All the while, you tried to hold it together, forcing a smile on your face even though your heart was pounding so hard you swore it would jump out of your chest any minute. “Y/N, she is dead.” Just like that, your younger cousin's girlfriend was gone. 

Today was Robin's funeral. God you hated funerals they made you so uncomfortable. Everyone was solemn and sad. But mostly, you hated to show your own feelings but whenever someone was crying you could not help but get choked up yourself. For the most part you had your hands interlocked pressed together to give you something else to focus on. Trying to breathe in slowly, easy, and steady. 

“Do you want me to come back with you, Hughie?” He just shook his head, his eyes red rimmed. He hadn’t spoken much since Robin’s death. Sometimes you wondered if he was still in shock. “I can stay with you for a couple of days,” you stepped closer, grabbing his hand. Desperately trying to make eye contact hoping to see anything but that shell shock look in them. “No, no, no, it’s fine,” he squeezed your hands before letting go and taking a step back, “I am fine.” He forced a smile and turned towards his dad who was waiting by the car. 

Chapter 1 

It had been a couple of days since you saw Hughie. You had called once but his dad picked up and told you about the settlement and how Hughie wanted to fight it. You could tell that Hughie Sr. was not happy about that and the resulting fight. Now, you were even more worried. Breathing in deeply you took your laptop and some snacks and made your way to the library. If Hughie wanted to file a wrongful death he needed all the help he could get. So for the next couple of hours you searched the internet for any kind of dirt you could find on the supes and some legal cases where family members actually filed for a wrongful death lawsuit. There weren’t many, at least in New York, where you focused on for now. From what you could tell several were dropped by the family, some dismissed by the judge and generally Vought won. In the small incidents the family did win, it was against some D-Lister Supe who did not receive support from Vought and was basically thrown to the sharks. How had you never noticed just how convoluted all this Supe stuff was? You had no idea how much help you would be for Hughie but all you could do was be there and support him. And maybe fight someone if he needed to. 

After you had researched, what felt like an eternity, yet in reality had only been two days, and compiled some stuff that made you feel like you could actually support your sweet, mild tempered cousin you packed up. It was time to see Hughie, even if he had ghosted you for the last couple of days. 

You walked downtown towards your guy's favorite Chinese Take-out place. You had picked up two portions of sweet and sour chicken, a white claw for him and some aloe vera drink for you. Hughie should get off work in the next 10 minutes. So you thought you could eat a late backroom dinner like you had done many times before. Usually you would get some food and once he closed up the shop you would eat and talk for a while in the backroom. Some days it was the best part of your day just goofing around with the lanky twink you call your cousin. 

Hughie didn’t even look up when you walked in. “We are closing soon, what can I help you with?” His tone was void of his normal happy customer voice. “I really need some forks,” for a second he looked confused. You held up the bags smiling at him. “Did someone order a backroom dinner?” He got up from his slouched position walking towards you with a smile, hugging you close to him. “God sometimes I forget how tall you are,” you reached up and tousled his hair. “Y/N what are you doing here?” “Well,” you lifted up the bags to say duh. 

“Close up for me, will ya?” Gary walked past you too. Immediately you crooked your head to the side and gave him a sweet smile. “Hi Gary.” He just grunted and walked out of the shop. “Damn one day I will make him my husband.” You joked. Hughie gave you a small chuckle for your antics, making you smile even more in return. “I’ll get the plates set up. You do whatever you do out here.” You waved him away as you made your way to the backroom. 

It had been five minutes when you heard Hughie exclaim: “What the fuck!” and a loud bang. You dropped whatever you had in your hands and ran towards the exit. Shit, shit, shit. You thought. Hughie better be giving whoever was jacking him up right now whatever they wanted. I mean it is New York, wasn’t the first time you had witnessed a mugging. But you were not prepared for what you saw when you spied through the backdoor into the shop. Hughie was lifted from the ground seemingly by nothing and flung across the room. What the fuck indeed. You pulled out your phone, only to realize that it had died. “Shit!” But in reality what would you do? Call the police? Yeah hey, so my cousin is getting attacked by air, yeah doubt that would fly. They’d just think you're some crackhead. 

You saw the TV being ripped from the wall and about to be brought down onto Hughie when somewhere in your shock you managed to grab the broom from the entrance. You ran out towards the floating TV, raising your broom, you screamed and swung. So not air, there was definitely something there. The broom shattered completely. You were just left with some splintered piece of wood in your hand. You let out a small nervous “ha” laugh, shrugging your shoulders as if to say my bad. 

“Who the fuck are you?” the invisible man replied. You took some steps back toward the back room again. What the hell are you gonna do now? “Y/N, run!” Hughie was still trying to catch his breath on the ground, struggling to get up. You were more than tempted to run but could you really leave Hughie here? Translucent lifted the TV again, and without thinking you stepped towards Hughie when suddenly a loud crash rang through the store. Jumping backwards you crouched down next to Hughie covering your head. 

A car? A fucking car just drove through the front. Jesus Christ what the hell was going on? You thought to yourself. Suddenly a tall man, with a dark beard and a large coat stepped out of the car. “Sorry about the mess.” The accent threw you off for a second but hey this is New York. Hughie and you stared in complete shock at him but he spared you guys no second glance. “You should fuck off, Hughie.” With that he stepped up to Translucent with a crowbar in hand. You just stared at him for a second before the stranger screamed. “Hughie, run!” 

Your senses kicked in again and you quickly helped your cousin up. Meanwhile in the background you could hear the Brit go. “Well, well, well, if it ain’t the invisible cunt,” before engaging in a fight with him. You put Hughies arm across your shoulder supporting him as you two made your way slowly to the back exit. But before you could leave, Hughie stopped you. The Brit was on the ground, bloody and about to be beaten with a crowbar. Before you could stop Hughie he crawled on the floor towards a cable that stuck out of the wall. “Hughie,” you hissed, “come back here.” Fuck! What an idiot. You were about to drag your cousin back by the ankles when the Brit kicked Translucent and everything went bright. You could hear the sizzling of the skin and his screams before everything went quiet with a thump. 

It took you a second to orient yourself and blink the bright spots from your vision but then you were just relieved to see Hughie standing there and the invisible shit on the ground. The Brit was already on his feet too, kicking Translucent for good measure. 

“What the hell is going on?,” you stepped up to Hughie hissing quietly to him while eyeing the Brit. Hughie couldn’t answer as the Brit spoke up. “Let’s get him in the boot.” Both you and Hughie looked at him in bewilderment. “What?” you said in unison. “Wait, wait what? Wait, what, what?” you cousin so eloquently elaborated on your what. 

The Brit, covered in blood, bent down and picked up Translucens legs, grunting as he nodded towards the car. “The trunk.” You had to give it to the stranger. He could definitely take a beating. The blood made his beard look even darker. And if it were any other circumstances you would have thought him handsome but right now was not the time to eyefuck a handsome, older stranger. 

“No,no, I mean, what are we-- , what are we - - what are we doing with him?” You had watched the exchange silently still reeling from the last 5 minutes. But it seemed like the two knew each other which was news to you. You had met all of Hughies friends, since you were older than him and since his mom left you always made sure to check in on him, protect him. Your friends used to joke that you had a grandma instinct, always pampering the younger ones. Taking Hughie and his friends out for ice cream and making Hughie hot chocolate when he had a nightmare. For a while you had lived in the Campbell household and once you had your own place you made sure to always make time for Hughie. 

Shaking your head, you took a deep breath. Get yourself together this is not a time to panic. Hughie needs you. You looked at him and all your grandmother's instinct kicked into high gear at the side of Hughies face covered in blood. Paying hardly any attention to the conversation going on around you. “Well, Hughie, you just off’d one of The Seven, mate.” “Me? I -- You-you hit him with a fucking car!” “Look, potato, fucking po-tah-to. We’re both in a shitload of trouble.” “Make that three,” you interjected. But neither of them paid you any mind you might as well have been invisible like that shit on the floor. You tried to keep up with their conversation but you felt like you had skipped the beginning of a book and were now in the middle of it with no idea what was going on. 

Wait, did he just say federal officer, FBI? What the hell was going on. You already knew once this shitty situation was over you would wring out even the smallest of detail about what the heck was going on out of Hughie. 

“Do you hear that? That’s the old bill,” you could hear the sirens clear as day and only getting louder. Shit you were so goddamn fucked. Before the Brit finished you were already moving, grabbing one of the arms of Translucent. What was the point in arguing? All the reports you had read the past few days flashed into your head. There was no winning here; you had to get rid of the body. No way in hell were you going to let whatever the fuck happened here ruin Hughies or your life. “So unless you want to explain why you’ve got America’s favorite invisible wanker dead on the floor, give us a fucking hand, will ya?” The guy crouched down again. It was the first time he had spared you a glance. It was quick, but you could feel the intensity behind it, the scan up and down your body before returning to the issue. You had met his slightly crazed stare head-on, not one to back down even if you wanted to. And by God did you want to, you wanted to grab Hughie and run but in no way was that going to happen. You could see Hughie panicking, his breath coming out in short puffs, his eyes wide. You wanted to do nothing more than help him calm down but this was taking too much time. You looked at him, willing him to look you in the eyes to convey just how urgent this was but before he met your eyes he snapped out of it. “Aw, shit!” Hugh grabbed the other arm and all of us started dragging the guy towards the car.

The Brit was not just tall, you noted but also fucking strong, while he was lifting the guy off the ground Hughie and you were barely strong enough to hold him up for a few seconds before he was dragging on the floor again. 

Once we got to the car, the Brit apparently had enough, and realized this was taking too long. He pushed you and Hughie off to the side. “Get the legs, would ya lad?” With one strong lift he had Translucent under the arms and up near the trunk. Quickly you and Hughie scrambled to get his legs up. “I need to do more cardio,” you whispered out of breath. The Brit shot you a lopsided smirk before smashing the trunk close. “Ain’t that a shame, but I can lend a hand if ya need it,” he said with a crooked smirk and a shake of his head. You just raised one of your eyebrows to say you think that line works? 

He walked past you, no scratch that, he sauntered passed you towards the driver side of the car. The sirens of the police now impossibly close. Hugh quickly got into the passenger seat while you scrambled into the back middle seat. For now you just let Hughie take the reins on the conversation. You just listened and observed to figure out exactly what was going on and how you could get your cousin and yourself out of it. You kept glancing at the Brit in the driverseat. Watching his jaw muscles flex under his rather nice looking beard. You had to admit you had a thing for men with beards, and you really wanted to reach out and feel it between your fingers. Once in a while he looked in the rearview mirror to check if the cops were following or to glance at you. Everytime you met his gaze head on. You knew the type. The type like him who dominated every room he walked into. The smirk, the sauntering cocky attitude. If you had learned anything about men like that you had to establish dominance from the get go. Show him that you were not some pushover, even if you felt like one on the inside. And truth be told you were freaking out, but putting on a smile when you did not want was one of your strengths. 

You looked from the blood on the side to his face, down towards the barely visible jawline underneath his beard, down to his coat, and up his arms. Your eyes landed on his hands, already forming bruises and covered in blood, holding onto the steering wheel. You expected to see his knuckles white from the strong grip he had but no, it almost felt like he was taking a joy ride. What kind of man was lazily holding the steering wheel after offing a man. 

Oh my god, you just off’d a man. Fuck, it hit you like a ton of bricks. You were in a car with a stranger and your sweetheart cousin. A body in the trunk and driving god knows where. Fuck how many times did you tell Hughie not to go to a second location with someone you don’t know. Yet, here you were doing exactly that. 

Thumb, Thumb. “Oh, thank fuck, he's alive.” Hughie exclaimed, while you froze in shock, still turned toward the trunk. “Yes, yes, he’s alive!. Okay, pull over.” A part of you was relieved the asshole was not dead. At least you did not have to add accessory to murder to your CV but another part of you, a bigger part, realized now that the guy was alive this shit was not over. Before you could voice your concern the Brit interjected. “No, no, no, Hughie, you don’t fucking get it.” But Hughie was having none of it. “Pull the car over.” “This is a fucksight worse. He’s seen our faces.” Hughie just stared at the guy confused and panic once again settling in. “Hughie,” you softly said, while leaning forward. “He is right.” You weren’t really sure what you just agreed to, or how bad it would get but for now the one thing you could do was calm Hughie down. “Oh, my God. No, no, no, no. I can’t do this.” You leaned even further forward in your seat “Hughie.” You tried to grab his arm but he shook you off. “I can’t do this. Let me out.” You tried again “Hughie, you gotta breathe for me okay. Just take a breath.” But to no avail “Let me out. Pull over!” He yelled, or what counted as yelling in Hughies book. You had to admit you agreed, you wished you could just get out of the car and just go. “Hughie,” the Brit strictly said, drawing your attention. You gave him another once over. The Brit was still steadfast, almost calming to look at. His tone made you immediately want to fall in line and go along with whatever he had planned. “You walk away now, and you will never get payback for Robin.” This? This is what this was about? Jesus Fuck! Your first instinct was to throttle Hughie for getting involved with this shit. But on the other hand, you got it. If you had someone you loved taken from you like that. God only knows what you would do probably burn the world down. It seemed like he had finally gotten through Hughie who just sat back and accepted his fate. 

The bearded man's confidence did not waver. “I know a bloke. Top man. He’ll know what to do.” Oh, no. A secondary location and some ‘top bloke’ recommended by some stranger, whose car you were in right now. Yeah, that did not sound sketchy at all… Should have stayed in bed today. 

You had been quite in the back of the car. Only the thumping and cursing from your invisible friend was audible to you. You were driving deeper into a sketchy neighborhood of abandoned and run-down buildings. The longer you drove the more you got nervous. You still had no idea who the guy was. Well besides knowing that he impersonated a fed to get your cousin to do so. You were ready to strangle the guy for getting Hughie involved with this. I mean common, look at him, he was tall and lanky and awkward. Did he look like the criminal type? Definitely not. You should have insisted on moving back into the Campbell house, at least for a while. If you had been here for him then maybe you would not drive to a second location right now. But at least you were here now and if need be, the Brit was the next body in the trunk. You held onto the anger that you felt. Anger was better than the panic. 

Sighing you leaned back into the backseat, your jaw already hurting from the times you had clenched it throughout the evening. The Brit shot you a look through the rearview mirror. Smirking, he adjusted his position to sit up a bit more straight. “Sorry, luv, guess I ain’t got my manners tonight. Being a right down cunt not introducing myself” You raised an eyebrow at him. Unimpressed with whatever this “flirting” he was doing. There was no way you would let a pretty face get in the way of your anger. “The name is Billy, Billy Butcher,” he turned to you for a few seconds. “Billy, really? I think cunt sounds about right.” You retorted in a rather monotone voice. Or the asshole who got my sweet cousin into some murder shit, you thought. You could practically feel his smirk. Hughie had turned to you looking rather guilty. Yeah, you better be, you thought. You shot Hughie a look he knew all too well, and he knew he was going to have a lot of explaining to do. “Ain’t that just a pity, Billy sounds good coming from your mouth.” Rolling your eyes you leaned back into the seat, crossing your legs, trying to make yourself look more like a bitch. “Loads of things sound good coming from my mouth. Like what the fuck is going on!” “Y/N,” Hughie interjected. Your eyes darted to him for a minute, your staple ‘don’t fuck with me right now’ look in your eyes. “Aye, we got ourselves in a bit of trouble, didn’t we, darling?” He was more than amused by you, and it made your hands itch to reach out and smack him. “From where I am sitting I can only see one troublemaker.” “Well, well, well, sweetheart you’re about to meet one more.” Billy had stopped outside some rundown building that looked even more sketchy than the Brit. Oh, we are so fucked, you thought. 

He stepped out of the car, waiting for you and Hughie to get out. You looked at him for a second trying to convey just how pissed and ready to fight you were. Slowly you stepped out of the car, never looking away from him. His smirk intensified, and that small wiggle of his head that he seemed to do was present. You would have thought it endearing if you were not so angry. Not even his broad and tall statue could disway you. You stepped up to him, doing your signature eyebrow raise. You had no intention of backing down first. Hughie just awkwardly stood to the side, watching your staring contest with wide eyes. 

Billy realized you had no intention of backing down and he sure as shit had no time for this. He took a step back and rolled his eyes as he walked towards the building. “Get a shift on. We got shit to do.” With that he disappeared between the heavy steel doors. 

You shot Hughie a look, “We’re gonna have a talk later.” It was not a question, it was a command. 

You followed Billy through the door and already you had a pit in your stomach wondering how much further you would follow Billy. Yet you knew, you’d follow that dark mysterious, and devilishly handsome man through hell and back. 

French rap music sounded throughout the warehouse. You were greeted by a dark-haired woman with the most intense blue eyes you had ever seen. She took a particular interest in Hughie, touching his face. All you could do was watch in bewilderment and wonder if whatever she had she would be willing to share. You vaguely heard Billy call her Cherié and ask for a ‘Frenchie’. 

You were not prepared for what was in front of you. Weapons upon weapons. You subconsciously took a step closer to Hughie. If there was something that scared you it was guns. You hated how easy they were used by people and the loud bang always made you jump. Your roommate and you had made a game out of fireworks or gunshots? Admittedly you had lived in a rough neighborhood but you were only a student. What else was there to afford? 

“Monsieur Charcuter.” So this was Frenchie. If it were not for all the weapons and what not you would think him cute. So this was the top bloke Butcher was talking about. Seems like Frenchie did not think of Butcher as a top bloke. You moved closer to Hughie. “Hughie, I think we should book it,” you whispered to him. He turned to you in shock as if you had slapped him. “What, Hughie? It is not like he could go to the police and say ‘hey some people bailed on us while getting rid of a body.’ Common, what can they do?” You were eyeing the door ready to take off. “No, no, this isn’t -- We can’t do this, Y/N.” You slowly grabbed Hughies arm ready to pull him along with you. “I’ll make an excuse for us to go outside and once we are we run,” you hissed. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes you were ready to step forward and tell them you had to smoke one and talk to your cousin for a second in private. 

“Who is this guy?” Frenchie asked. Great now that their attention shifted to you too, there was no getting away. “Oh, this here is Hughie Campbell. And--,” Butcher waved at you. “A friend.” Yeah, a friend. Jeez the guy did not even care to learn your name. On the upside they had no idea who you were and honestly you preferred it that way. “We’re, uh, working a little job together.” Sure if this is what you want to call it.  Hughie looked as uncomfortable as you felt, but hell would freeze over before you showed any sort of discomfort. You stood, with a straight face, that many of your friends had called a resting bitch face, shoulders back and attention fully on the guys before you. Watching them like a hawk, only glancing at the woman who was clearly on something or just plain crazy. 

“And he’s still alive?” You felt bile rise up in your throat. What was that supposed to mean? Suddenly, flashes of Hughie being tossed around bloody and groaning in pain came to mind. And then silence, him dead on the floor and there was nothing you could do. 

“You and I worked together, and you’re still in one piece,” Butcher retorted. It should have been reassuring but it definitely wasn’t. From what you could tell the french guy was in the business of whatever the hell you and Hughie gotten involved in. Judging by the scars all over Frenchies body a stark contrast to the baby smooth skin Hughie had. Yeah, great, you both will be dead by sundown, you thought. Now you need a cigarette for real. 

The French guy gave in and all of you made your way outside to the car. The fresh air felt good and made you feel more relaxed. You fished a pack of cigarettes out of your coat pocket. Quickly lighting it between your cherry red fingernails, with your pink Hello Kitty lighter. Taking a long drag you felt relief flooded your senses. God this was a disgusting habit but better than reaching for a bottle and getting shitfaced drunk. With your luck, you would end up at the police station telling them everything that happened last night. No alcohol was not an option you had to be in control.

You stood a couple paces away, when Butcher opened the trunk and electrocuted Translucent. This is when Frenchie freaked out. You nodded for Hughie to come to you, if this was going south you wanted him out of the line of fire. Luckily, Butcher is an asshole and managed to get Frenchie into this shit too. 

Frenchie and Butcher walked back inside. “Hughie and Iwill keep an eye on the invisible asshole.” You commented offhandedly, your gaze fixed on no one in particular. You took a drag of your cigarette, releasing the smoke and shooting a glance at an unmoved Butcher. “Well, luv, I don’t think this is a good idea,” You knew he was worried you would let the guy go and take off but you didn’t care for that right now. You needed to talk to Hughie. “Like you said, he’s seen our face.” You threw his own words back into his face. “I think we should--,” You shot Hughie a look to shut him up. It worked, as you knew it would. It was the same look you gave him when he was a child and in trouble. Taking one last drag from your cigarette you stomped it out underneath your boots before stepping up to Butcher. My God, how tall was this guy? You smelled a whiff of engine oil, sweat, and leather. Not a combination you thought would be so pleasant. “Imma, talk to my cousin. But don’t worry luv we will be right in.” Butcher gave you a once over, leaning into you with that signature smirk. “No, need to get your knickers in a twist, aye now, shirty.” Oh, you could see it already you would end up smacking this cocky son of a bitch. But for now, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you. You continued to stare at him, not wavering at his gaze. However, you could not help but clench your jaw, your muscles slowly tensing up underneath your skin. Of course, the asshole saw this and smirked even more giving you his signature head wiggle. But you were not backing down. Finally, he rolled his eyes, turning around. “If you are not back in five I’ll come get ya myself.” 

Hughie had watched the exchange in awkward silence. He knew you were not going to back down and felt relief when Butcher finally walked back inside with Frenchie. “Okay, look--,” Hughie started. “No,” you simply said. Already you were itching for another cigarette. “I don’t want excuses or some washy explanation. You will tell me everything that happened that let us to a run down warehouse with some fucking gun runner and some british asshole.” Hughie took a deep breath, ruffling his hair before telling you everything. From Voughts offer of 45k to meeting Butcher and planting a bug. You listened closely, growing more and more frustrated and angry at the same time. “Jesus Christ, Hughie a bug? What were you thinking? Why did you not come to me with this?” “What, so you could tell me I can’t do it?” Hughie yelled. “Because I am a loser who can’t even ask his boss for a fucking raise?” You were shocked at his outburst, stepping closer you wanted to sooth the boy in front of you. In some way he was right you did not see him as a man, for you he was the sweet boy who wanted to play superhero with you and cuddled up to you when a scary scene was on screen. “No, Hughie that is not-” But he would not hear any of it. “Because I don’t have the fight. All I am good for is selling some electronics, coming home, sittin on the couch, watching TV, and eating Pizza rolls?” You let him rant on for a while longer, never seeing Hughie like this before. By the end he was out of breath, his chest heaving. You leaned against the wall of the warehouse, racking your brain about something you could say to make things better for him.

“You know what I’ve been doing the past few days?” You asked Hughie, confusion on his face. “I’ve been researching cases of wrongful death lawsuits against Supes.” You pushed yourself off the wall. “Because I was ready to stand with you, not in front of you, but side by side ready to fight for justice for Robin with you.” You stepped up to Hughie. “Because I don’t think you are some loser who can’t do anything. But because I think you are a good man who wants to do the right thing.” You shook your head in disbelief about all the shit he just told you. “But this. This is a fucking mess.” Hughie sighs deeply, “I know, I know, okay? I didn’t know what else to do” You did what you wanted to do since the store, you hugged Hughie. He clung to you. “We are in this now, you realize that, right?” You pulled back, taking Hughies face into your hands. “But we are going to get through this okay? ‘cause we are not fucking losers.” You grabbed Hughies hand, “common we have a shithead to take care of.” With that, you both walked into the building again. 

Once you arrived at the new place you would keep Translucent the boys and you got to work. Carrying box after box with God knows what. But for now you were not going to ask questions and just do as you were told. Once everything was settled in you brought in your captive. Translucent was put into an electrified cage. To say he was unhappy when he woke up was an understatement. He was cussing you out something fierce 

Hughie was leaning on the wall next to the door that led to your captive, while Butcher and Frenchie leaned opposite each other on the table. You had planted yourself up on the counter. Your question of what now had been ignored and the two men were arguing back and forth when Hughie spoke up. “Wait, you're going to kill him?” “Well, we didn’t bring him here for a fucking Happy Meal.” You almost let out a snort at Butcher's sassy remark if the situation was not such a mess. Before the argument could go further you interjected. “What about a diamond drill?” This got the attention of all three men. “What?,” Hughie said. “You said that his skin was tough as diamonds,” you talked directly to Frenchie. “Or more, who really knows,” you added.” You pushed yourself off the countertop and walked to the table where Frenchie and Butcher were located. “If it is as tough as diamonds a diamond drill should do the job.” You could not believe the words that came out of your mouth. I mean you were talking about murdering a man. Frenchie looked at Butcher whose gaze was still on you. Shrugging his shoulder he nodded. “Worth a try, no? But maybe a less medieval weapon would suffice.” With this Frenchie got to work, mixing stuff and overall did things you had no idea about. Instead of probing him more with what he meant you just stepped back jumping onto the counter once more. “I’m gonna see about an old friend,” Butcher said, leaving you and Hughie alone with the French man. You watched Frenchie work in silence. You were glad that Hughie did not try to talk to you, you were absolutely drained. The rollercoaster of emotion catching up with you. You could feel how things started to overwhelm you, your head pounding and the noise grating your nerves. You abruptly left the basement making your way upstairs. You walked through the rows of tables and seats, past the boxes of guns and other supplies before settling down on a bench near the door. You took off your jacket, balling it up and using it as a pillow. You were lying on the bench staring up at the cracked ceiling, your brain completely numb. You finished out your phone before realizing it had died the day before. Looking towards your left you saw an outlet, but you were far too tired to move an inch. You let your arm fall to your side again, ignoring your phone problem. 

Hughie watched you leave the room, his constant frown still on his face. He knew he had fucked up and even more so by dragging you into this mess, even if it was unintentional. Hell, he didn’t even want to be here. He wanted to go after you, to apologize over and over but he knew you needed your alone time. 

You were absolutely drained, closing your eyes trying to breathe evenly. Yet, the unfamiliar space made you tense, you only allowed yourself to close your eyes for a few seconds before the panic of not knowing what was around you kicked in again. God, you thought you were over your hypervigilance, constantly thinking something bad was around the corner. You even managed to sleep with your bedroom door unlocked now. It took years for you to feel safe in your own skin again and now in one night it was all destroyed. You felt like you were right back where you started five years ago. 

Sighing you sat up, your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands. It is true what people say, trauma stays in your body. You sat up straight, taking a deep breath in, holding it for a few seconds, then breathing out. Breathe and repeat. Your hands were sweaty and your limbs felt hollow. It felt like you were twenty again trying to paint on a smile even though all you wanted to do was scream and rage and cry. But that was not acceptable, not according to the way you were raised. All throughout your life you have been taught to smile and behave. As long as you could function you were okay and there was no need to be “a drama queen” as it was so often put whenever you tried to express your feelings.

Getting up you looked over the boxes the boys had brought in, all the different weapons and tools. You reached out, wiping a stain off a drill. Watching as the smudge slowly disappeared. It felt good, getting rid of an imperfection of something that should not be there. Cleaning has become your comfort whenever you feel like your feelings would overwhelm you. And once it was all clean you had your feelings in check and could put on a smile. Playing whatever role people expected of you, the good daughter, the loyal friend, the dutiful student. What role would you have to play now? You wondered. It had taken you years to break out of the need to mask and hide and now you wondered if playing a role was the only thing that would keep you and your cousin alive. Your head was spinning, so you turned searching for your bag, before realizing it was on the ground at Gary’s destroyed shop. Great not you had to somehow find the money to get a new laptop. But mostly you wanted your anti-anxiety pills.

Your head was spinning out of control when the door suddenly opened. Butcher came strutting in, an annoyed look at his face. Quickly you smoothed your expression, trying to appear casual. “I’m guessing whatever you did, didn’t pan out.” You leaned back on a desk behind you, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not to worry, luv.” He squared up in front of you, his broad chest looking even broader when he crossed his own arms in front of it. Daylight was streaming through the hole of the torn paper that covered the windows. The dust became more prominent, and Butcher seemed even bigger with the light illuminating him from the back. “Really? Because from where I am standing worrying is the only thing that I can actually do.” Butcher let out something between a snort and a laugh. He took a step closer to you, almost looming above you. “You know we have not been properly introduced. You know my name is Billy, Billy Butcher and what would yours be, sweetheart.” You clenched your jaw at the nickname. “I don’t know, Billy, sweetheart sounds pretty good to me.” You replied sarcastically. Butcher was clearly amused by you, and as much as you hated it, his cocky ‘everything is funny’ attitude got to you. You did not want him to see that his attitude got on your nerves so you pushed yourself off the desk and walked past him to the stairs leading to Frenchie and Hughie. “But once you get tired of the condescending nicknames, call me Y/N,” you threw him a glance over your shoulder before disappearing down the stairs. Butcher watched you go with a smirk on his face and an appreciative glance down your body. He did not know how to feel about you yet, but at least you were sassy and easy on the eyes. That was always fun.

[darling-i-read-it]

System

Dalton Lambert x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: set after insidious the red door so spoilers for that, the readers scared daltons wandered off again 

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long love! I’ve been a bit everywhere lately but I was finally happy with this. Also my spell check is being hella weird so if there’s some misspelled things just ignore it lol. I hope you enjoy!

Requested: by anon, hi i literally just got home from the insidious movie with my friend, but i was wondering if you are taking requests, if not feel free to ignore! but i was wondering if you’d be able to do a dalton x reader where they maybe meet his family? and he has an episode during it and gets stuck in the further and reader has to try and coax him out of it? or he has an episode and comes out of it in a panic attack like state and reader helps him through it and his family is in shock that dalton lets her see him like that. they think its really sweet that she can help him through it and everything.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Thanksgiving break. You could fear the cold in the air as people talked lightly going down to their cars, happy to leave school behind for a couple days of rest. Dalton threw his bag over his shoulder, watching you watch the window. The leaves were falling onto the street, whisked away by the gentle wind. You could see people’s silent laughter through the glass. 

“You ready?” Dalton’s voice broke you out of your trance. You nodded once, pulling your bag up over your head as well. It just had some clothes and your laptop, plus chargers. You hadn’t been expecting to go back for Thanksgiving with your heavy workload. 

“Your dads here?” 

“Yeah, pulling up outside.” You turned back to the window like you could locate him. Dalton grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the door. You followed him outside of his dorm room. He shut and locked it behind him before leading you down the stairs among the stragglers of people leaving for break. 

You had never seen the parking lot so crowded. 

Dalton put his phone to his ear, keeping a firm grip on your hand. You followed him blindly. 

“Near the flag poles isn’t an instruction dad,” Dalton said, voice annoyed. You looked around, trying to place the car. You didn’t actually know what he was driving but you knew Mr.Lambert’s face. “There are a ton of flag polls.” Your eyes scanned the area. “Are you talking about the one with the school flag?” You sat Josh Lambert, standing outside of his car with the door opened. You hit Dalton and pointed. He followed your gaze. Dalton hung up the phone and guided your way through the parking lot. 

Mr. Lambert smiled when he saw you both. He pointed beside him, where an American flag was posted between some trees. 

“It was the only thing near me,” he explained. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You offered your hand to shake. 

“You must be Y/N. I’ve heard a lot.” Josh shook your head. 

“Thank you for letting me stay over the break. My family is so far away and getting a plane ticket in this weather has never been good odds.” Josh’s smile was genuine and kind. You had only met him over the phone but Dalton had mostly assured you of his normalcy. After the whole flying away possessed by demon thing, you understood that Josh also had issues with staying in his head. You felt for him. 

“Oh of course. Any friend of Dalton’s is a friend of ours.” Josh winced, trying to find the right words. “It’s a pleasure.” 

“That’s good dad.” Dalton took your backpack. You smiled gently, trying to let him know you understood what he was trying to give off. “This is gonna be a long drive.”

-

Josh asked you plenty of questions, happy that someone in his car actually answered him. You didn’t mind chatting. It was a couple hours after all. Before you were there, Dalton couldn’t exactly shut out and put his headphones in. Still, he sat behind you, sketch book out, half listening. 

Eventually you came to his and his moms home. It was nice and large, almost secluded but not quite. You didn’t peg Dalton for a large house kind of guy but the second his mom opened the door, it all clicked into place. 

Josh had started recently living with Renai again, much to Dalton’s surprise. He didn’t talk about it often, only in passing. You were able to pick up bits and pieces from everyone’s body language but that was about it. 

Renai had Josh take your bags. 

“Thank you so much Mrs. Lambert for letting me stay,” you said hurridly as she ushered you inside. She smiled, so brightly it hurt. She looked just like Dalton’s pictures of her. Goregous and kind. 

“Renai, please. Dalton go take those upstairs.” 

“Are we allowed to sleep in the same room?” Dalton asked, teasingly. 

“You can sleep in the guest room,” she said, ushering him away. She turned to you. Dalton walked up the stairs, followed closely by his father and your bags. “It’s nice to formally meet you Y/N.” 

“And you! I’ve heard so much, seen your face on a lot of different sketches,” you joked. Her smile remained, dripping in generosity but not so much it made you uncomfortable. You felt instantly comfortable in the house. 

“I’m sure you’ve become the new muse,” she joked. 

“He’s extremely talented. He could make a tree look interesting.” 

“Don’t say it to him, it’ll go straight to his head.” Renai would sometimes call you when she was worried about Dalton. After the demon event she grew more worried about having him out of the house. You became her eyes and ears, which she was eternally grateful for. 

There was a childlike commotion upstairs. You both turned to see a little girl barreling down, her hand loosely holding the railing. Once she hit the bottom she halted. Dalton was following close behind her and behind him was another teen boy, though younger than Dalton. It was easy to guess the names. 

“Oh shit D,” Foster mumbled. Dalton hit him. 

“Are you Y/N?” Kali asked. You nodded. 

“And you must be Kali! It’s very nice to meet you.” She smiled, ogling. You grew self conscious under everyone's gaze. Dalton pushed through his siblings to get to you. 

“Hey, go get your own person to stare at.” He grabbed your hand. “C’mon, I wanna show you my room.” 

“No funny business,” Josh said as he came down the stairs. “Keep that door open.” 

“He doesn’t bring girls home often,” Renai explained. 

“Mom,” Dalton seethed. You laughed as he tugged at your arm. You followed him up the stairs. 

“It was nice to meet all of you!” you called, your arm half way out of it’s socket. You observed the place as you walked, glancing at the family photos on the wall. At some point they started to lack Josh completely. “You’re were so cute,” you cooed at one of the photos. “What happened?” 

“Woah there.” You laughed as you finally landed upon his room. It was a normal teenage boys bedroom but cleaner. You wondered if Renai had cleaned when Dalton left. There was art supplies still scattered on the desks and some laying on his made bed. Your bags were put off to the side, next to his. 

“I see you have no intention of posting up in the guest bedroom?” 

“Oh no,” he said. “My mom’s a lightweight and will be in bed by nine.” There was countless pictures on the wall. Some were painted, some where with ink, some with just pencil. It was like a whole other gallery. “I have a couple new ones to add up there.” 

“Oh yeah?” You turned back to him. He was grabbing his sketchbook out of his bag. He turned it open to the one he was working on in the car. It was a back view of his dad and you talking. Josh was mid word but you were smiling, watching intently. “Is that why you weren’t talking with us?” 

“I don’t like my dads taste in music.” You grinned warmly. 

“I love it. Like I love all your stuff.” He carefully went to tear it out and you moved to get some things out of your bag. 

-

You had dinner, courtesy of Renai, and quickly turned in. Dalton made a big show of going to bed in the guest bedroom, rolling his eyes and pretending to pout. You cuddled into his bed, scrolling through your phone as you waited for him to come back. Your eyes drooped. It had been a long day, filled with new things. Dalton’s bed was way more comfortable then the dorm room bed and far bigger too. 

At 10 you heard the door open slowly. You turned on your side and smiled sleepily at Dalton walking in. He ran his hands through his hair, shutting the door quietly behind him. He climbed under the sheets beside you. You moved over to make room but the bed was big enough where it almost didn’t matter. 

“Bigger than the dorm room bed huh?” he questioned. You usually had to squeeze together. You got very used to being on top of each other. 

“Just a lil.” 

He dipped his head over you, kissing you gently. Your body eased into his touch. His lips were lazy and sleepy, also fueled by the long day. He moved away after a moment and layed his head down next to you. 

“Tease,” you joked. 

“My mother is in the next room.” 

“No more kisses then.” 

He scoffed and the two of you got comfortable, his arm under your head, your cheek against his chest. The window was creaked open, the sound of the suburbs floating into your ears as you drifted off. 

-

You woke up with a start. There was an echo of a noise but you were still half asleep and couldn’t pinpoint it. You sat up, glancing down at Dalton. He laid on his back, eyes shut. You looked around the dark room. You didn’t know it’s curves well enough to know what had changed. You rubbed your eyes, trying to decide if you were still asleep or not. 

Through your shadowy perception, you saw the door creak open. It was slow but the movement struck home. You turned to Dalton and nudged him. He didn’t move. You nudged him again, harder this time. He stayed completely still, the only indication he was alive from his breathing. 

“Dalton,” you muttered. You shoved him again, almost knocking him off the bed. 

Nothing.

Fear shone in the lights of your eyes. You sat up completely and turned on the lamp beside your bed. You took a deep breath. You had done this before. You could do it agian. Dalton and you had talked about what you could do when this happened. He assured you that, while he likely couldn’t get possessed by that same demon, there was no guarentee he couldn’t drift off. 

You cleared your throat and set your shoulders back. 

“Dalton can you hear me?” Your voice was loud and clear. It needed to project if he was gonna hear you. You took clear breaths in, counting and then releasing. “Dalton, baby, you’ve gone to far.” 

You glanced back at the door. Had he left? Was that him coming back in? How long had be been out? 

“Dalton, listen to me. Follow my voice.” 

With each passing tick of the clock you got more anxious. You wondered if you were too late. Your breathing became more labored as you sat there, starring at his face, begging it to move. “Dalton.” 

You knew shaking him did no good but you did it anyway. 

Renai could hear your speaking in the other room. Despite what Dalton said, she was also easy to rise. She had gotten into the habit when Kali was a baby, always able to easily identify her childrens voices. She knew it was yours immediately. She nudged Josh, who woke up after a couple pushes. 

They listened for a moment, making sure they weren’t going to enter some sort of scene they would never be able to unsee. But then your voice came again. 

“Dalton, follow my voice. I’m right here.” Renai knew the script well. It sent shivers down her spine to hear someone else say it. She quickly moved the covers aside and padded down the hallway to Dalton’s open door. She stood in the frame, Josh behind her. You were turned away, looking down, sitting practically on top of Dalton. Your voice, though stressed, was soothing. 

“Dalton I’m right here. Come back to me.” Renai was about to jump forward and start helping when Dalton sat up straight. He hit your head with his because he was moving so fast. You both groaned in pain.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, grabbing your cheeks. “Are you okay? Did I bruise you?�� 

“No, no I’m okay,” you breathed. You let out a hefty sigh of relief. “Are you okay? You scared me!” 

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” he promised. “Followed your voice.” 

“Everything okay?” Josh asked. You both turned on a dime. You almost fell off the bed with the speed you were trying to get off Dalton. He still had his hand on your cheek and it fell just as quickly as he had put it there. 

“Yeah we’re fine.”

“Totally okay!” 

Your voices overlapped into a scrambled mess. 

“You’re still floating away?” Renai asked. She hadn’t heard anything about that. Josh was still grounded, as far as she knew. Dalton shook his head. 

“Not often,” he promised. “I think being back home triggered something.” He rubbed his eyes. “But I’m fine. We have a system.” 

“Yeah, just in case. I can usually tell because he starts to move things around when I’m sleeping,” you explained. “The door usually opens.” Renai nodded. She parted her lips, the fear dissipating. You had it handled. 

She was impressed. 

“Is that why you’re in the same bed then?” she questioned, eyebrow raised. Dalton rolled his eyes but you had the heart to laugh. 

“Sure mom.” Her gaze lingered. 

“You sure you’re alright? Do I need to quiz you on something?” she asked. 

“I’m fine,” Dalton promised. “No demons here.” 

“None over here either,” Josh promised. Renai scoffed. 

“Good to know.” She turned back towards the two of you. “It’s late. Get some sleep and stay in your shoes okay?” Dalton nodded quickly. She left the door wide open as she turned to leave but not after giving you one last look. 

“We could’ve used a system,” Josh mumbled. 

“Maybe we should get one,” Renai concluded. 

You turned back towards Dalton. 

“She let you stay.” 

“Yeah well, I think that was the astral projecting.” You laughed a bit. You were still reeling from the fear, even though you were trying not to show it. 

“Wanna grab a midnight snake or something? Just to shake off the demons?” He smiled, thinking of kissing you in his kitchen, the privacy something he wasn’t used to.

“I would love to.” 

[boy-comics]

RENT-FREE

── .✦ pairing; ♭form!o.de x gn!reader

── .✦ summary; chance leads you to oh seungmin. something else leads to you stay.

── .✦ word count; ~4.7k

── .✦ tags; swearing, mentioned family issues, discussions of death, fluff, hurt/comfort, romantic tension, roommates to friends to lovers(??), seungmom™, takes place in the "real" world

── .✦ a/n; ahahaha (lying in a ditch)

After graduating, getting a job, moving out, and doing all the other things one needs to do to be considered a real adult, you realize something: pride, that bright, delicate thing that you've clung to all these years, means very, very little.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"It's just until I find another apartment. I won't even argue with him anymore, Mama—"

"Honey, I'm sorry, but you should know why I can't trust you to do that."

You stare at your phone screen, the call time climbing up ever slowly. Your mother continues talking, her voice tinny through the speaker, trying to soothe your irritation without giving in, but you can feel your thoughts growing pricklier and pricklier with each reasoning.

Just kick him out for a little while, you want to yell at her, don't you care about your own kid having a roof over their head? Why choose that deadbeat over me?

"So what am I supposed to do, then, Mama? My roommate's gone and I can't pay rent all on my own. I don't know what to do."

"I don't know either. I'll ask around and see if anyone can help you out. But this is adulthood, honey; things like this happen, and you just need to figure out what to do."

If you could afford it, you'd throw your phone against the wall.

"… I know. Thanks, Mama. Talk to you later."

"Make sure to eat, honey."

Pressing the end call button, you drop your phone on your bed and scream into your pillow.

—

What you end up doing, all by yourself, is break your lease early and shoulder the penalty fees. Then you pack up what little belongings you have and camp out at an old classmate's place (just until your next paycheck at the most, you had promised), and work and search for apartments and search for roommates and sleep and eat and work again.

Your mother calls just as you're looking up motel prices. You don't want to pick up, but again, pride means very, very little.

"Hi, Mama."

"Hi. Are you still looking for a place?"

"Yep."

"Okay, good. I was talking to Oh Seungmin's mother. You remember him, don't you? You went to the same high school. He was on the basketball team."

Your brow furrows. "Oh Seungmin?"

"So you do remember him."

"… Yes."

You're sure he doesn't remember you, though. Oh Seungmin had always belonged to a different crowd than yours, a really different crowd, even if you did walk to and from the same neighborhood together for a brief time. If your mother is suggesting what you think she's suggesting, you must be thinking wrong, somehow.

"He lives somewhere near where you work. His mother talked to him, and he's willing to let you stay with him until you find something more permanent."

You blink.

"Honey? What do you think?"

"I—uh." Your cursor continues to hover over the room price typed in bold on your laptop, and as you absorb what has just been offered, it drifts down to the corner of the screen. "How much would I need to pay?"

"Ah. I forgot to ask. She gave me his number to give to you just in case, though, so just ask him. It's—"

You type down the number and save it, praying to whatever lives upstairs that this isn't the beginning of some awful cosmic joke.

—

You move into Oh Seungmin's place on a late Sunday morning in May.

"Do you need help unpacking?"

"No, it's okay." You gesture vaguely at your suitcase, backpack, and laundry basket of bed things. "This is it."

Seungmin nods, his eyes flitting between the three things containing your entire life. There is a smile on his face, small and polite but awkward, like he's entertaining a surprise guest despite having expected you for the past three days. "Oh, okay. Cool."

You smile back, just as awkward. This Seungmin is slightly different from what you remember. High school Seungmin was more outgoing, a star athlete and the dream of every girl in your class. In this small apartment in the shadier part of the city, he seems more subdued, a little lonelier around the edges. Or maybe that's only because it's you.

He is still absurdly good-looking, though.

"I didn't know if you were okay with the couch or a futon mattress, so both are out. I have extra pillows if you need them … you don't have a closet, so we could buy a foldable one or something and put it in the corner if you want."

"I'm okay with the futon mattress. And it's fine—I'll just keep things in my suitcase. I won’t be in your hair for long, anyway."

"All right." His fingers tap an oddly controlled rhythm along the side of his thigh—not that you were already looking, you just catch the movement at the edge of your vision—and then he clears his throat. "Well, I'll let you get your stuff unpacked. I made some curry rice so we can eat afterwards. Hopefully you'll like it. I think you told me it was your favorite, once, a long time ago."

Some of the ice on your tongue melts.

"It still is."

His smile cracks open a bit wider, a bit more genuinely. "Really? Nice. I'll get everything set up, then."

"I'll be quick."

The living room and the kitchen are squeezed together with no divider, so you are graced with the ambiance of clinking ceramic bowls and silverware while you set your things out to organize them. The faint smell of curry and rice that you had detected when you had first stepped foot into this home intensifies with the sound of the microwave running.

Eating lunch with Oh Seungmin is a simple affair that grows more comfortable with time. You go over the house rules and contributions again, and it's funny, you find, the way the two of you agree on things so easily despite not having talked in years. Then again, it is only the first day.

"There is one thing, though," Seungmin says, taking your plate along with his to rinse them in the sink. "I have a synthesizer and record a lot of music for work. I'll keep my door closed, but if you're here and it bothers you, just tell me. I'll use headphones."

"Oh," you say, surprised. You don't remember Seungmin having a strong interest in music. A synthesizer. That's interesting. "Okay, I'll let you know." A thought hits you and you ask conversationally, "Do you use ♭form at all?"

You don't have an account yourself, having put it off time and time again. Conversation, that's all you had intended. But as soon as you mention ♭form, it's like the shutters close, and Seungmin's tone shifts from open and friendly into something strange and even guarded.

"Sometimes. Just the audience and solo modes, though."

He changes the subject after that. Of course, you still can't help but wonder for the rest of the day, especially when he disappears into his room for the rest of the afternoon, strange and beautiful music trickling out from underneath the door.

—

Seungmin tells you that it's been a while since he's had people stay over, but despite his modesty, you find him to be a wonderful roommate.

"Are you done using the glass cleaner?"

"Yeah, it's in here."

Heading to the bathroom, you spot Seungmin dutifully spraying the shower with cleaner and hold your breath, grabbing the glass cleaner from its place on the floor and stepping back out quickly.

"Did you find it?"

"Yeah, it was right there," you say.

He turns around to check, and you can't help but grin. Standing like that in the bathroom, he almost looks like a harried mom, old baggy shirt tucked into equally worn sweatpants, hair messy, a mask covering the lower half of his face and large yellow gloves covering his hands. When he raises his eyebrows, you snort.

"What?"

"You look like a mom."

"Finish your chores," he says sternly, even waggling his head, and you laugh again before leaving to wipe the windows.

Cleaning day is surprisingly mellow in your temporary home. Seungmin has the bathroom and his bedroom while you take the kitchen and living room, and you're both quite efficient. The initial awkwardness at the beginning has eased significantly over the past week, and if you were feeling optimistic, you'd say that the two of you are friendlier now than you were as students—even if he does spend a lot of time in his room.

"Hey, you wanna do something after this?" Seungmin calls out. You hear the shower turn on, followed by the sound of water splashing over the walls.

"Like what?"

"We could shoot some hoops."

"Ha-ha, that's funny."

"Well, now we have to go shoot some hoops." You make a face, and even though he can't see it, Seungmin tacks on, "I'll buy you garlic cheese bread after."

"How many?"

"One plus one more for each basket you make."

Well. That's an offer you can't refuse. "Deal."

"Okay. After I clean the toilet, I'm gonna shower and then we can head out."

You finish vacuuming and mopping the floors by the time he comes out of the bathroom, hair toweled to a curly dampness and no longer smelling like bleach. He looks like a young, fashionable man again, and you think that it might have been a little easier to talk to him when he was masked up and rubber-gloved.

"Ready?"

"I'll still get one free garlic cheese bread even if I miss all the shots, right?"

"Yes, but you can't be that bad at basketball."

"Try me."

There's a basketball court about ten minutes away from the apartment complex that Seungmin frequents. There's another one that's closer, newer, but upon passing by and asking about it, you're told that he avoids that court because it's too popular.

"Isn't it better to play with a group of people?" you question.

He shrugs, head turning away from you. "I just like to do my own thing when I'm here."

(It strikes you as a bit odd, but you keep that thought to yourself.)

"We're here." Seungmin dribbles the ball for a few seconds, then passes it to you. "You remember some stuff from gym class, don't you?"

"I mean, yeah, but that doesn't mean I can do it," you retort, passing the ball back. "Why don't you give an example and I copy it?"

Your companion turns and promptly shoots the basketball towards the hoop. It cuts a majestic arc through the air before falling through the hoop with a devastatingly clean swoosh.

You stare as he jogs down to fetch the ball, returning with a self-satisfied grin. "Okay, well, don't expect that kind of technique from me. I'm fine with my one bread."

"No, I'm going to make sure you get at least two. Here." Seungmin comes closer, plopping the basketball into your outstretched palms. "Just dribble it a little and pass it back and forth so you can get the feel for it."

You slowly bounce the ball on the concrete. It's haphazard, coming back up at different angles with no discernible rhythm, but you can actually keep it up for more than ten seconds. Clapping his hands, Seungmin shouts encouragement and gestures for you to pass it to him.

"What were you talking about? You're fine at this." The ball travels between the two of you several times before he points to the hoop. "Try to shoot."

Emboldened, you cradle the basketball in your dominant hand and stare up at the hoop. Aiming at the backboard, you launch it with a quiet grunt.

The ball hits the rim and shoots off to the side.

"... That's okay, that's okay! Try again."

You feel like the kid winning a pity prize at school. It really shouldn't be a big deal, with you being a whole-ass adult and all, but you can't prevent the frustration that roils up anyway as Seungmin tosses the ball back to you.

"I'm just going to miss."

"You won't know unless you try, right?"

When you roll your eyes at his sage-like wisdom, he sighs, circling around to stand behind you.

His arms come around to adjust yours into the right position, and you nearly choke on your own spit.

"Keep your shooting arm close." He taps the inside of your foot with the toe of his shoe. "Feet shoulder width apart, knees bent, 'cause the power comes from your legs. Your other hand is just there to guide. And follow through."

His voice is soft against your ear. You swallow dryly, only daring to breathe again when he steps away.

Oh, no.

"That easy, huh?" you croak, bending your knees.

"If you want it to be."

You shoot the ball. It soars upward—downward—hits the backboard, rolls along the orange rim and falls through the net.

You and Seungmin stare for a moment. Then Seungmin nudges you with his elbow and holds out his fist.

"Yo, yo, yo! Good job, [Y/n]-ssi!"

Your eyes roll again as you bump fists with him, but it's bashful this time, and you hate how exposed it makes you feel. "You're a literal mom and dad rolled into one."

"Does that make you my offspring?"

"Sure would beat being the offspring of my actual parents." You wince as soon as the joke leaves your mouth.

"Oh."

Seungmin blinks, and laughs a bit, but it's so obviously unsure that everything that's been going so right today veers into complete fuckup territory.

You dig your hands into your pockets and scuff your shoes. "... Sorry. Shitty joke."

"Ah, it's fine ..."

And yet, neither of you say anything more.

Shit.

While you rub your arms, hobbling towards the basketball rolling steadily towards the grass, you hear Seungmin follow. The scrape of his shoes against the asphalt peters out as you pick up the ball, and when you turn around, he's regarding you carefully. You find an interest in the words stamped onto the basketball.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

"Not really." You spin the ball in your hands. "I mean, it's not like you never knew, and nothing's really changed, and that's why I'm here in the first place. So."

Seungmin nods slightly and hums, scratching his nose.

"I didn't mean to kill the mood."

"No," he says immediately, "don't worry about anything like that. You're good company."

You look at Seungmin. He stares back, and for a brief moment, you remember a boy with the same dark eyes, under a similar sky, sitting with you at the corner of a convenience store after school because you didn't want to go home.

"Oh. Okay."

"You wanna try for a third garlic cheese bread?"

"Nah, you kinda killed the vibe with all that mushy gushy stuff."

Seungmin hisses through his teeth when you punch his shoulder. "Damn."

"Only joking. Can we go now, though? I'm hungry."

"Yeah, sure."

—

In the brief interludes where neither of you have anywhere to be, you and Seungmin inevitably gravitate towards one another. That's what happens when people get along, you guess, though it's been so long that it surprises you when Seungmin actually joins you on the couch with a tub of popcorn.

"That for me?"

"That for us," he corrects as you press play on the laptop and settle back into the cushions. "Is the volume high enough?"

"Oh." You lean forward again. "Now it is."

Seungmin had been neutral at best towards pirating a horror movie from five years ago—he could take them or leave them, depending on the quality—but you had cited its several awards and didn't want to watch it alone, so here he was, ready to pass judgment on your choice.

"Don't scream too loudly," he gibes as the music drops to a low simmer, "or the neighbors will complain."

You scoff, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "I'm right here if you need a shoulder to cry on, Seungmin-ssi."

Thirty minutes into the movie, both of you swallow your words.

You'd taken it as a sign of good taste that multiple reviews had credited Come Into My Head as providing nightmare fuel for weeks, but now you realize that good taste may not be in your best interest. Not when you're shaking like a leaf next to your roommate, who is sitting stiffly, nearly stone-like.

When the killer jumps out, both of you let out a shriek that triggers angry thumping from above.

"Shitshitshit." Another jump scare slashes across the screen, and you leap out of your skin when Seungmin's hand clamps down on your arm. "SHIT."

"Y-You're making my arm numb," you whisper, but you make no move to pry him off, eyes glued to the screen.

"Sorry—"

When the lead actor screams, you can't take it anymore and suffocate Seungmin's arm between your own, smashing your face into his shoulder with a pathetic whimper.

... Unfortunately, said shoulder ends up being so warm and muscular that you sober up from your fear-drunkeness long enough to be overcome with embarrassment.

"Uh." Your action seems to have the same effect on Seungmin, whose grip immediately loosens.

"I'm sorry," you blather, starting to pull away. "I swear I'm not trying to—"

"It's fine," Seungmin interrupts. "I, uh, don't mind if you don't. I'm kind of terrified right now?"

"Me too."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

The corners of his lips quirk upward. If it weren't for the gory, red lighting of the movie illuminating his face, and if you weren't so sure of his opinion on you, you would think that Oh Seungmin was blushing.

Yeah. You lean back until you're pressed against Seungmin once more, arms wrapped around his and shoulder pressing shoulder. His right hand reaches around to squeeze yours with every on-screen death and you can feel each joint of each finger over your own. I'm terrified.

—

It takes two whole weeks before shit hits the fan.

It had been an unexpectedly warm day, so you had decided to impulse buy some ice cream bars on the way back from work. Seungmin would appreciate it, being cooped up in the apartment with his synthesizer. You haven't been able to catch him outside his room for the past day. Maybe you could hang out and talk in the kitchen while you polished off one or two ice cream bars.

Sticking the box of chocolate-coated vanilla in the freezer, you quietly walk over to Seungmin's bedroom and examine the doorknob. There's no Do Not Disturb sign hanging from it, and it's not locked, which you take as the go-ahead to knock.

"Seungmin-ssi, I got ice cream."

You wait. No reply.

Frowning, you press your ear against the door, wondering if he's working on some music, but you don't hear anything. Of course, he could be using headphones for some reason.

"Hello?" You knock and then call for him once more, making sure to be loud. "Hey, I'm coming in."

With that, you enter his room.

Nothing seems out of place. That is, until you see Seungmin hunched over on the edge of his bed, hands trembling and forehead drenched with sweat.

"Seungmin!"

Stumbling over your feet to rush over, you grab ahold of his shoulders and shake him. Seungmin jolts and shivers, then looks up with wide, glazed eyes, and it frightens you so badly you reach up to grab his face. It feels cold.

"Hey. Hey! What happened?!"

He stares up at you, completely vacant, and then he finally blinks. It seems to trigger something because he starts gasping for breath, clutching your wrists as he registers your presence.

"What happened?" you repeat, voice cracking from the volume.

He winces. "I dunno," he rasps, wetting his lips. "I think we ... I think we broke the system?"

The use of we raises a flag in your mind, but considering the present circumstances, you put that aside for now. For all you know, his brain could be fried like an egg and churning out nonsense. "Broke what system?"

He looks down.

You follow his gaze. There is a pair of strange glasses on the floor by his feet. Hesitantly, as if you might get burned, you pick them up.

Upon inspection, you notice '♭form' faintly etched into the frames. There's a button on top of the left hinge, but nothing happens when you press it. Frowning, you press it again, only to curse when something neon red fizzles briefly across the lenses. Then it’s dead once more.

"Oh," you murmur dumbly. You look at him again.

Seungmin's lips press together, eyes still fixed on the glasses, and he swallows. His gaze then moves to you and the emptiness of it slowly ebbs away.

He is silent, despondent, and he takes a moment before he tells you something so sincerely it stuns you.

"That was the only place where I mattered."

And, truthfully, it feels like he's slapped you across the face.

You gape at him, throat suddenly tight, and when he continues to sit without another word, you shut your mouth so violently your jaw tingles.

The strange behavior makes sense now. The brief periods of dullness after leaving his room, the rare but suspicious checking out from conversations, the obsession with music. You had overlooked these things because the moments between them had been some of the best you’ve ever had. They had mattered to you.

Apparently, he had never felt the same way.

"You don't think you matter here?" you say, numb. Your grip tightens around the glasses. "What was the fucking point of all this, then?"

His brow furrows. "… What do you mean?"

It feels like prying open the shell of a living creature, exposing everything that's meant to be kept safely hidden away. You do not know why the living creature is you and not Seungmin. You don't know why Seungmin makes it so damn easy to spill your guts, revealing the self-centered and bitter parts of you that drive everyone else away.

"Do I not matter either?" you ask.

The sound of your own voice, angry and trembling, immediately disgusts you. You bite your tongue and turn away.

"What? Hey, that's not—"

"Nevermind. Forget it."

As you head straight for the door, you have this grand idea in your head that you're going to storm out of the apartment, spend a few hours blowing off some steam, and then return to pack up your stuff and stop adding to Seungmin's misery. But that would require you to be faster than Seungmin, and for his apartment to be large enough to create enough distance between you and him.

Reality unfolds as such: you getting one foot across the doorway, Seungmin grabbing your wrist, and you stopping far too quickly.

"That's not what I meant at all. I'm sorry, I'm just—just let me explain."

"I'm a little too pissed off to listen nicely, Seungmin-ssi."

"That's fine. As long as you believe me." When you look back at him, he squeezes your wrist. "Please stay."

He's pleading. His hand is clammy. And because your pride means so little, and because you have become so horribly attached—you stay.

You let him lead you back into his room to sit on his bed. You stay, and you listen as he starts from the very beginning.

By the time he's done, having explained the train, the fighting, the surreal time loop his band had just broken after what had seemed like days, you are just about ready to break down.

"So you're telling me that you've been wanted by ♭form for the past year?" you say, throat dry, and Seungmin nods. "What would've happened to you here if you died in there?"

"I don't know. All I know is that the pain sticks after I log off."

The pain sticks. Good god. You lean over and hold your head in your hands, feeling nauseous. "Seungmin-ssi, that's not okay. What the fuck."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't think you would be this upset if you found out."

"Of course I would? I live with you? Do you know how traumatizing it would be to come back from work and find out you're brain dead? Like, fuck," you laugh, feeling your lungs constrict, "oh, my god, what if I lost you?"

Seungmin is quiet. Then he says, almost whispering, "Lost me?"

The disbelief in his echo causes you to close your eyes. Everything is coming out now. You can feel them bubbling over, crawling out from between your ribs, thoughts and confessions that you have stuffed down for fear that they would be ridiculed.

He utters your name, the end of it curling upward in bewilderment.

"Seungmin-ssi." You take a deep breath. "You're kind, and caring, and the first person in actual years who I felt actually gave a shit about me. If something happened to you, I ... part of me would probably die too, I think."

It's too hot in his room. Your vision goes blurry, and you feel your nose start to burn. You sniffle. Hands falling into your lap, you dig your nails into the fabric of your uniform pants. You're sweaty and teary and miserably cracked open, and it's hot, and all you can do is sit and wait for his response.

Beside you, Seungmin shifts in place.

Then two arms wrap around you, warmth upon warmth, a cheek resting against the side of your head as he holds you.

"I didn't know you felt that way about me," he breathes. "I'm sorry for being so reckless with myself. I was ... I was wrong."

Your tears start to fall onto his shoulder. "Don't leave me."

"I won't. I'm here." His hand ghosts up and down your back, the barest of tremors in his fingers. "You matter to me, too. So, so much."

Oh. A sob escapes your lips.

You're so selfish. Selfish for having him comfort you after what he went through in ♭form, selfish for dirtying his shoulder with your tears, selfish for feeling this way about him after so little time.

Selfish for wanting to stay.

You tighten your grip on the back of his shirt. Seungmin hums. He pulls away just slightly to look at your face, and you almost tear up again when he wipes the wetness from your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes glossier than normal.

"I'm sorry," you croak as he does so, reaching up to touch the dark circles under his eyes. "I didn't even check if you were okay. Are you okay?"

He chuckles a bit wetly, hugging you again. "I'm better now. Thanks for asking."

"Do you need water?"

"I'll get some in a few minutes. Don't worry."

"It's hot. I came in to ask if you wanted ice cream. I bought a box from the store."

"Oh, you did?"

Neither of you move, bodies pressed close, intertwined. You are buried in his scent.

"We can have them now," you offer, with effort, "if you want."

"Is that what you want?"

You bite your lower lip. "... If it makes you feel better."

His mouth presses against your temple. Against it, he admits, "It is hot. But ..."

He does not finish that sentence. But you understand, and something blooms, trembling, in your chest.

"Maybe later," you finish drowsily.

Leaning into him further, you hear his soft agreement, his hands stroking down your arms with a surety that had not been present before. He keeps you here, with him, real and breathing, living.

You are not alone. And neither is he.

Thank you for accepting me. Thank you for loving my prideless self. I'm glad we exist here, in this world, together.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for watching a movie as a family without including my dad? Writing it out, I think I know the answer, but this has still been bugging me.

Around Thanksgiving I (30s) visited home. It was also a trip to see for my mom (late 60s) for her birthday, so I was there for a few days longer than a Thanksgiving trip would normally account for. My brother (30s) and his wife (30s) visited for her birthday too. My dad (early 70s) was there as well. They've been married over 30 years. Originally I'd planned to take everybody out to see a movie as a birthday present for my mom...but it turned out there was literally nothing at the theater that my mom was interested in at all. The town is pretty small, and the options were limited. So instead, we started out with a nice dinner, and family board game run-through of a trivia game we all thought we'd have some fun with. My mom ended up winning, which is rare and was not deliberate, and it wrapped the game up way faster than we'd anticipated.

My dad immediately went back into the living room after the game ended, openly a little annoyed that mom had won a trivia game based on something he considers himself the family expert in. He watches old reruns of the show he's seen a million times on a loop every day, and it can be pulling teeth to get him to do anything else. It was just a fluke, but something the rest of us considered a pleasant surprise since none of us had expected she'd win. But he was annoyed. Given that it was still early, Mom suggested we find a movie to watch online, so we could all wind down before bed with something the whole family could enjoy.

Dad said no. Now this feels like important context: I...have a lot of problems with my dad. I love him, but he can be extremely emotionally immature. Downright verbally abusive at times. And very petty. I'm in therapy in no small part due to some of the insecurities he instilled in me over the years. I've worked hard to set basic boundaries with him. He also has multiple medical issues, and I'm pretty sure he has untreated depression and other mental health problems he refuses to acknowledge that contribute to him flying off the handle at a moment's notice. That, combined with the fact that my mom will 100% never, ever leave him, because she was raised in a very specific mindset that she's never been fully able to shake...means my brother and I usually have to grit our teeth when he starts ranting/yelling/complaining during a visit, or we'd just end up ruining the day for our mom. She's done so much for us, and we just wanted her to have a good visit. So, that's what I did for most of the trip. I breathed deep when my dad openly mocked my stutter, and refused to get in a fight about it. I stopped myself from getting visibly upset when he tried to feed my cat table scraps even when I told him the cat needs a special diet. On other days I tried to watch his old shows with him, and ignored the sexist comments he'd make about the female leads, all for the sake of keeping the peace.

But, it was Mom's birthday. And she wanted to watch a movie.

And Dad said no.

He refused to give up his marathon of old westerns from 60 years ago to watch a new movie with his family on the big tv in the living room.

My mom seemed disappointed, so I suggested we watch one on my laptop in the kitchen instead. Without my dad, if he really wanted to watch his show instead. She agreed, and my brother, his wife, my mom and I filed into the kitchen, sat in less-than-comfy chairs, and watched a fantasy heist film that I'd thought they would all enjoy. And they did. My brother was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the movie (I'd already vouched for it being good, none of the others had seen it previously) His wife kept making notes for her dnd campaign. My mom found it hilarious, and liked that some actors from another show she liked were in it.

My dad stayed in the living room, watching his marathon.

Partway through the movie, he came in and asked us what we were watching. We told him, and he passed through the kitchen for something he needed, then said that we were being too loud. More context: the kitchen is right next to the living room, but my dad turns the tv up so loud in there it can get physically painful to be in the room with him. He refuses to get hearing aides, and only recently relented on subtitles. He also has a habit of screaming at anyone who tries to talk for a long time when his shows are on and they're in earshot, even if they're in a different room. We thought he couldn't hear it over his tv, and so when he said something we said sorry and that we'd try to keep it down, but we could already barely hear it through the laptop speakers. We already had subtitles turned on to make sure we didn't miss anything. When we told him that, he got even more annoyed. He asked how we'd like it if he turned the tv up so loud we couldn't understand anything, then proceeded to go into the living room and do just that, just as I was trying to figure out how much more we could lower the volume without losing our whole experience. We called in that we were already turning it down, and he finally turned his volume back down as well. We finished our movie, turning the volume down during action scenes and up during speaking scenes so we could actually hear the dialog. We enjoyed the rest of the film, and then people started getting ready for bed, and my mom went to check on my dad. She told me a few minutes later that he was hurt that we'd watched the movie without him. That he felt left out. I told her that he'd had multiple opportunities to join us, and that is was his choice not to watch with us. And honestly, the fact that he wouldn't give up the real tv for a couple hours so she could have a birthday movie was really upsetting to me.

She still seemed to feel bad that he was left out, and I'm a little worried that he might've sulked for days afterwards, leaving my mom in an even more stressful environment after I left. Am I the asshole for insisting my mom get to watch a movie on her birthday? And would I be the asshole if I told my dad off for what I consider to be extremely selfish behavior?

Also before anyone asks, no, I'm not cutting him off. It's literally impossible to do that without pretty much cutting off my mom as well, and she absolutely doesn't deserve that. And yes, I've offered up my apartment as a place she can stay if she ever needs to. Repeatedly. She hasn't taken me up on it yet.

What are these acronyms?

[winterchimez]

Read Your Mind | Lee Hyunjae

SUMMARY: both you and Hyunjae had a mutual agreement to begin this whole friends-with-benefits relationship from the start, but now his contradicting actions and behaviour make you question what you both truly are at this point.

PAIRING: fwb Hyunjae x f!reader

GENRE: angst, suggestive

WARNINGS: kissing, making-out, arguments, unrequited love (like the first ⅔ of the fic, but there's a happy ending folks 🥹), mentions of s*x

WORD COUNT: 3,661

A/N: i've been jamming to sabrina carpenter's read your mind lately, hence this fic was born! special shout-out to my fellow sabrina enthusiast @heemingyu for hyping me up throughout the process & reading it through for me as well 😭🫶🏻

update!! this is now part of emails i can't send fwd: series (collab with @heemingyu) ✨

You slammed your laptop down shut as soon as you saw that the clock on the wall struck at half-two. Not wasting any time, you quickly packed all your belongings into your backpack and left the lecture hall immediately. 

Oh, how you’ve always dreaded long lectures like today, which lasted for approximately three hours since your lecturer insisted on finishing up the modulus before letting you off for the long weekend ahead. 

As you made your way out of the hall, you were immediately joined by your group of friends, who were quickly catching up with you, telling you how there’s this new Korean BBQ restaurant in town and how you guys must try it since there’s a limited promotion going on there. It was a Friday night—of course, you had to agree. 

That was until your phone from your back pocket buzzed. 

You took out your mobile and quickly scanned through the notification that just popped up on your screen. 

🎁: Hey, meet me at my place tonight at 8pm? The usual.

A long exasperated sigh left your lips as soon as you saw that message since you knew what it exactly meant.

And how you have been doing it constantly for the past 6 months without anyone besides you two knowing about this whole deal. 

Your friends clearly noticed how quickly your facial expressions shifted and began asking if something was the matter. As usual, you brushed them off and told them how your family issues had come up again and that you wouldn’t be able to join them for the night.

Using your usual pouting facial expression to convince your friends that you’ll definitely make it for the next one, you hope that it will indirectly tell them how you feel sorry about it and stop making them pressure you with more questions. 

Waving them goodbye, you turn your heel in the opposite direction, making your way to the destination that your so-called friend has been expecting you to be.

Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath before you eventually mustered up the courage to head to where you had to be. 

Here we go again.

You were now on his lap, straddling his waist while his grip tightened around you. Both of you were having a steamy makeout session, lips exploring each other’s like there was no tomorrow, while both of your hands began touching one another, which increased the arousal that you both were feeling at that moment.

Finally, after a while, he gives you a little moment to have a breather while he travels down to your neck and begins leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your collarbone. Once he got there, he began sucking it a little too hard, one that you knew would definitely leave a hickey behind, and you’ll definitely need to use your handy-dandy concealer to cover them up the next day. 

His hands begin travelling up to your chest, where he begins squeezing one of your breasts, which is where he gets an elicit moan in return, turning him on for the next move he is about to pull. 

“Can I… take your clothes off, Y/N?” 

“Go ahead, Jae.” 

The next thing that happened was that both of your clothes were scattered throughout the floor, and you were now lying in bed with Hyunjae hovering over you. Both of your lips are now reconnected, tongues intertwining with one another, leaving no room for a breather. 

Just as you thought things would get a little spicier, the male suddenly stopped in his tracks. 

“No.” 

“Hyunjae? Is everything alright?”

“No. I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t do this anymore.” 

Hyunjae then gets up and sits on the bed, and you follow by sitting up next to him. Gently placing a hand on his shoulder, you looked at him with the look of concern and sincerity in your eyes. 

“Care to share about what’s going through your mind?” 

Hyunjae sighed deeply before furrowing his eyebrows as he stared off into the ceiling. “I’m not sure, Y/N. I know we both agreed on this from the start. But lately, I just don’t feel like this was the same as before.” 

It was true. You both began this whole friends-with-benefits situation because Hyunjae had recently broken off with his ex, and he was feeling slightly lonely. Both of you were only coursemates and nothing else. Eventually, you both got close with one another when you were assigned to be lab partners in one of the subjects within the course.

You noticed how Hyunjae wasn’t as goofy and bright as he was previously, and you decided to check up on him and asked if anything was the matter and if you could at least extend a helping hand to him. Initially, he was reluctant to tell you the truth. After a period of time, he made the deal and spat out what had been bothering him for so long.

Making it clear that he was heartbroken and needed a company, you somehow convinced him that you could do that if he desperately needed them. Though both of you had made it clear to one another that he would not envision you as his ex whenever you did the deed, he merely needed company to satisfy his sexual desires. Adding to the fact that neither of you would fall for each other. You were more than happy to do that so long as you both did not break each other’s boundaries. 

Things started out fine in the beginning, and he started to feel better and presentable at lectures, which made it seem like everything was working out fine. In return, you got to expand your knowledge on romance since you have never had a partner in the past 22 years of your life. In other words, it was kind of a win-win situation for both parties. 

However, you have begun to notice how things have changed from all of your recent makeouts with the male himself. There was this awkward tension in the air, contradicting what you both had agreed on beforehand. There are multiple times—like tonight when Hyunjae suddenly breaks off the kiss and tells you both how you guys are done for the day.

Something was bothering him, and neither of you knew what it was all about because the male himself did not understand his emotions. 

Every time this happened, he felt guilty about it and constantly apologised for everything that had happened. 

But tonight, something was different. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But I think I really need some time alone to myself.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll just go to bed-” 

“I’ll walk you home, at least.” 

Oh. 

This was the first time Hyunjae asked you to give him space. Usually—even during the recent not-so-good makeout sessions, he would always insist that you stay for the night, reassuring you that his flat is way safer than going back home with the dimly lit streets at night. 

But this? It was something you had least expected to happen, though you didn’t question the male as you could tell it wasn’t the right timing to do so. 

Instead, you just nodded and quickly packed away your stuff before the both of you were ready to head out towards the front door.

The entire walk back to your flat didn’t take that long—it was about a five minute walk, to be exact. But what made this whole short-distance road feel like an eternity was how neither of you spoke a word throughout the whole journey. You could tell Hyunjae wasn’t in his right mind, his face was pale. Hence, you decided to just wrap your arms around yourself and walked close by next to him, respecting the peace and silence for now. 

As you reached your flat, Hyunjae didn’t say much and rather just muttered a simple “goodnight” before he smiled weakly and turned his heel back towards the direction of his residence. 

Whatever happened tonight, you knew that something had changed between the both of your relationships. 

This went on for an entire week. Ever since that fateful day, you’ve noticed how Hyunjae slowly returned to his previous self, where he always seemed so lonely and gloomy. He was quiet for a few days, but the usual message came in, and you find yourself back at his flat two days later.

However, it ended up the same way as it did, pausing suddenly when you both got down to the climax and decided to call it quits before walking back home once again. 

The cycle then continued. He would tell you that he needed to be alone and work on his thoughts for some time before eventually typing down the usual that would keep you busy and occupied with him throughout the night. You would return to him every time, knowing how you’d be left feeling confused and unsatisfied with the entire ordeal.

Yet, your heart yearns for the man, and you’re always hoping that you’ll at least be able to ease his pain and loneliness, even in the slightest bit. 

But tonight is when you decided that enough was enough and would confront him about it. What exactly was bothering him? Or rather, if he was actually getting bored of your company.

You needed to know. 

“Hyunjae, I’m here to talk.” 

When you replied to the male with your usual messages, being the gentleman he was, Hyunjae welcomed you immediately at the front door when you arrived. The usual deal would be that the two of you would get straight down to business without having much say, to begin with. Tonight was when you decided that this would not work out, and you both have to come to terms with one another before things go straight downhill. 

He looked at you with a surprised look, where you could tell that he was definitely taken aback since you were usually the quiet one and would let the male take control of everything. A deep sigh left his mouth, and he invited you into his living room, where you both sat on the couch, distancing ever so slightly from one another. 

You hesitated for a moment before you decided that it was the right time to put together the right words to ask the male what exactly had been going through his mind for the past weeks. 

“What exactly am I to you at this point?” 

It seemed as if the male knew that the day would come when he would eventually have to face the question he had been avoiding for so long. In the beginning, he has always seen you as a good friend who would understand his point of view of where he was coming from and how he deeply appreciated the help you were willing to give him.

But lately, he has been having second thoughts and has begun questioning himself about what he truly felt about you.

Are the both of you still in this whole friends-with-benefits situation? Or even, are you both still good friends at this point? 

It took a minute or two for the male to speak up finally, and what he replied was something that had never once crossed your mind. 

“I fear that I might be crossing the line, Y/N.” 

“And why is that?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know myself.” 

This uncertainty back and forth has really started to get on your nerves, and the fact that you came here tonight to clear the air proved nothing at all. Hyunjae wasn’t sure of his emotions, yet you were desperate to know his point of view. 

Frustrated, you stood up from the couch and raised your voice slightly, facing the male to express your frustrations throughout the past week.

“Hyunjae, you keep telling me that you always needed some time alone, and yet you always want me back by the end of the day. If we’re not going to do this like how we have intentionally started with, then we’re both just wasting all of our time, really.” 

“Y/N, I thought that we could just be casual about all of this-”

“Casual?” You scoffed. “You never were my best friend to begin with. We are just lab partners, and I was merely concerned about your well-being, so I decided to help out a little.”

“And because I love you.” You choked. 

Hyunjae’s eyes widened upon that statement, and he was about to refute it until you managed to fire back again.

“Have you perhaps fallen in love with me?” 

Hyunjae? In love with you? That can’t be. Both of you agreed upon the rules at the start that all of this was merely helping one another out, and there was no room for falling in love with the other party at all. 

You knew that you had already broken the rule from the start, but it didn’t matter to you as long as you were aware that Hyunjae was getting all of the necessary help and support he needed. But with what Hyunjae has been going through lately, he knew that it was why he had begun to see you differently and how he could not touch and feel you like before. 

The question was if he was ready to move on from his ex. With your help, he should have gotten over it and begun to take things a lot easier, right?

If only your theory were right. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

That was enough to tell you that all of the efforts that you have put in over the past few months have gone down the drain that easily. 

You were getting teary-eyed, and you began stomping towards the front door, wanting to escape this suffocating environment that you were in. 

With one final sigh, you fired back at the male once more. “Why the fuss, Hyunjae? If you just say you wanna be mine?” 

Just as quickly as you opened the door, you were instantly gone. Tears begin pooling down your face as you take that long, dark, dimly light road back to the comforts of your flat.

Is it that hard to just admit you have feelings for me, Hyunjae? 

Back at Hyunjae’s flat—he was standing there still, fingers running through his hair in a frustrated manner as he took his phone and dialled the only number he knew who could knock in some sense of mind at this hour. 

“Sangyeon-hyung, I messed up real bad.”

You have never felt so dead over the next few weeks ever since that incident at Hyunjae’s flat. Neither of you has spoken a word to one another or even come close to having eye contact at all.

It was tough when you were both assigned lab partners for your chemistry subject and had to talk to your advisor to have your partner physically changed for the rest of the year. It was tough coming up with plausible reasons as to why you wanted him to be switched out with someone else—but ultimately, your request was approved. You were now paired with one of the girls from the class with whom you were not too familiar with, but that was fine by you so long as it wasn’t him. 

Obviously, your efforts did not go unnoticed, and the male eventually tried his best to reach out to you again. But every time you managed to get a slight glimpse of him walking your way, you have always done your best to keep yourself occupied or even walk away to avoid starting up a conversation with him. 

You even tried blocking him off of all of your social media and on your contacts list—he was already swarming you with calls or messages, trying to just talk to you or even apologise for what happened. But honestly, you were just not ready to hear whatever he would say to you, especially when you fell for the man before you started this whole friends-with-benefits relationship. 

I have been such a fool to think he would eventually love me back. 

It was a quiet afternoon when you decided to spend the rest of the day finishing your assignments before the final exams were due in about a week. The library has always been your comfort place to be on campus. Not only can you take a little breather from all the chaos on campus, but you also could take a little nap in between, especially during times like this when you’ve always pulled an all-nighter and your sleep schedule was all messed up. 

Standing up from your seat, you decided to walk down towards one of the halls to get some textbooks that would be helpful as your source of references for the current report you were typing on your computer. 

The peace wouldn’t last long, though, as you felt a presence behind you that you had avoided for the past month. The cologne was what gave his identity away, you would’ve recognised it immediately without a doubt because you used to spend the nights with him all the time. 

You tried your best to ignore the male, constantly trying to fidget through the shelves until you finally grabbed enough materials to return to your table. 

That was until he decided to grab hold of your arm, and now you were left with no escape and choice but to come face-to-face with the person you have been avoiding at all cost. 

“You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. But please, at least, hear me out for a few minutes.” 

Taking in a deep sigh, you laid your head down and looked at your books before muttering to the male. 

“Five minutes.” 

He then lets go of your arms and straightens his back as he clears his throat to finally muster up the courage to tell you what has been trying his best to tell you over the missed calls and messages. 

“First of all, I’m an idiot. I messed up so bad, Y/N. I know I shouldn’t have done nor said what I did back then-”

“Cut to the chase, Hyunjae. I have no time to waste.” 

“Listen. I haven’t been able to look at you the same nor touch you the way I did before because… I am starting to care a lot about you, Y/N. I’m not talking this from a friends-with-benefits stance, but rather as a friend.” 

You scoffed. “So this is what it’s all about? Coming here to apologise and tell me you have changed? I have to laugh if that’s what it is, Hyunjae. Look, if you are sneaking up on me just to tell me that you need me back to do whatever shit that we used to do, then I’m sorry, but I’m done with that phase.” 

He now grips both of your shoulders, trying to knock some sense into you. “No, Y/N. I’m not seeking a sexual relationship with you anymore. I’ve been a jerk not to notice how, during this whole time, I have begun to care a lot about you because you mean more to me as a friend.” 

“And because I have fallen in love with you, Y/N.” 

No. 

No way, it can’t be. Hyunjae has made it clear how he only needed company back then, and he was nowhere near or wanting to begin a new relationship after how messed up his and his ex’s one was. You’ve got to be hearing things, maybe your lack of sleep lately was the key to this. 

“You don’t, Hyunjae. You don’t love me. I was just merely a company for you.” 

“That was before, Y/N. But not anymore.” 

He now takes a step closer to you as he pins you against the bookshelf. 

“And I’m going to make myself clear, miss Y/N. I can now confidently say that I am ready to start anew and begin this new chapter with you. The old Lee Hyunjae that you have known is now gone, and I am willing to spend the rest of my life with you as your boyfriend.” 

Tears began forming in your eyes, and you had to try so hard to fight back the tears and respond to the male. 

“I can’t read your mind, Hyunjae. One day, you told me you needed space and to be alone, and the next thing that happened, you came back to me saying you wanted me back. I do not enjoy this joke in the slightest bit, Hyunjae.” 

He notices how your tears are on the verge of streaming down the beautiful face he has longed to yearn for over the past month, and he now closes the gap between you two, lips now brushing against one another.

“Then let me prove it to you.” 

He shuts you up by placing his soft, gentle lips against yours, and with that, the tears that you have held back for so long begin pouring down like there’s no tomorrow. 

He rests one of his hands around your waist while the other seemingly rests on your right cheek, slowly catching each drop of tears as he wipes them away. 

Oh, how badly you have missed this—the familiar sensation, his cologne, presence, and the soft, luscious lips against yours. 

Both of you were kissing one another as if it was just like the first time you both had done it—tongues were now intertwined, and neither of you were planning to let go anytime soon. 

“Hyunjae—God—Don’t—Stop.” You said in between the kisses as you tried your best to catch your breath. 

“Never planned to do so, Y/N.” 

As he breaks off the kiss and travels down to your neck to nibble and leave a trail of kisses behind, he whispers into your ear before continuing the deed. 

“You may have fallen for me first, but I have fallen for you harder.”

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu (join my permanent taglist here!)

[mojomcm-fandom]

Edit: Now that it's not late at night and I have my laptop out, I'm editing this so it sounds less like the ramblings of a madwoman (tho there's a limited amount I can do seeing as it is, in fact, the ramblings of a madwoman lol). Also formatting and clarity and any additional theories/headcanons/whatever I think of while editing this.

Partly crack, partly copium, but I've got some theories/crossover/au thing going on that I wanted to write down so here goes:

Crack/Copium/Theories:

All 3 of the trailblazer kids are actually "dead" aeons.

Stelle/Caelus: Akivili (Herta makes us LARP as Akivili in Hertian Realm and we're known as the Trailblazer while Akivili is known as the Trailblaze so idk I know the player character looks like Nanook but they ain't dead soooo...)

Dan Heng: Long (maybe the High Elder Vidyadhara is actually Long's own reincarnation but they have no idea bc memory wipe. TBH makes no sense for the Permanence to be dead)

March 7th: Idrila (this one's a bit of a stretch so bear with me. The Aeon of Beauty could be HoHe Elysia expy and March is also kinda Elysia expy so ??? And March was froze in ice without memory so it's totally possible that's Idrila's mysterious disappearance)

Also:

Sampo is Aha. He gives strong vibes of being a Masked Fool in canon, but I think it'd be funny if he's actually the Elation.

Pom-pom was created by Akivili to protect the Express after Aha blew it up. Pom-pom is also a proficient marksman. This is bc of some canon evidence alluding to Pom-pom actually being really powerful (Yanqing and Welt both make mention of it iirc) and the engine of the train looking like a revolver. (Also headcanon that the Astral Express itself was made from one of Akivili's twin revolver pistols. Perhaps the other has the ability to summon the train?)

Lan has not and will not kill Yaoshi bc yin-yang/life and death balance and also bc what is a hunter without prey. The Hunt had no issue killing the Propagation, so this seems like the most reasonable reason why the Hunt has been after the Abundance so long without killing them.

On aeons and the relations between paths (I might end up making a relationship chart?):

Death Aeons: Nanook is unnatural death (think murder, natural disaster, etc.), while IX is natural entropic death (like degradation from aging), Lan is controlled, balanced death (think like hunters/predators keeping ecosystem in balance), and Oroboros is the death caused by one's own greed (think pollution, overconsumption). Terminus is the end of time and final death of the universe.

Life Aeons: Tayzzyronth is overabundant life (think how invasive species population boom bc outcompeting native species for resources), Yaoshi is overabundant continuation of life (think unnaturally prolonged life), and Long is eternity (without change or growth, entropy comes for all).

Mythus and Nous are polar opposites in path direction. Akivili is midway between the two (to trailblaze is to turn the unknown into the known).

Some paths are directly at odds with each other (opposite directions), some paths have overlap (too much overlap leads to one path consuming the other like with Ena and Xipe), and some paths are neutral (running perpendicular to the others). Mostly this matters in relation to pathstriders who walk multiple paths, as it is extremely unlikely to find, for example, someone simultaneously walking both the path of the Hunt and the Abundance.

Hooh's is the ultimate neutral path. Akivili's is also a fairly neutral path, though slight odds with Mythus's (to seek to make the unknown known doesn't really work with the idea nothing can be known) and maybe Aha (just bc Aha is a jerk and like Herta said, surely Akivili would've taken offense to Aha blowing up the Express). Idrila, Xipe, Fuli, Aha, and Qlipoth also have relatively neutral paths, though Qlipoth and Fuli are at odds with Nanook and Mythus. Xipe sometimes does not get along with Aha, if Aha is being particularly antagonistic.

Crossover/AU (Genshin):

Traveler and twin are Akivili (one soul two bodies, don't think too hard about it). Akivili is presumed dead by HSR universe bc Sustainer of Heavenly Principles imprisoned Akivili on Teyvat (a world at the fringes of the known universe/Yggdrasil/Irmunsul/Imaginary Tree). Claiming that they are siblings is far easier to explain than that they are two halves of the same god.

Zhongli/Morax is a high elder (do non-high elders have the ability to turn fully into dragons? are there any high elders who are not Dan Heng? idk) vidyadhara who arrived on Teyvat shortly before rebirth. Idk weird Teyvat magic or something made his rebirth cycle this time 10x longer than normal (should only be 600-700 years between rebirth and he's canonically 6000 years old). He is unaware of anything HSR related bc memory wipe from rebirth and nobody around to explain things.

The Imaginary Tree in HI3 and HSR and Irminsul in Genshin are the same tree (Yggdrasil), but some may only be branches of the other

So yeah, stay tuned to see HoYo prove my theories and headcanons wrong in the upcoming years.

[graciegoeskrazy]

change in pressure

george daniel + stepdaughter!teen!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of bio dad, yelling, reader puches someone, mentions of blood, nothing gory or graphic, kind of short i started and finished this today (🫠) not proofread lolz

a/n: this is the unofficial sequel to ‘somebody else’. it basically just touches on the events there so i would recommend giving it a read before hand.

George was set for his day off. A beautiful day with no worries or fears about what’s to come. Just him, a TV, food, and a house to himself. The fantasy of a day off however came to an end when a call rang, two seconds after he sat down.

It had no caller ID but the area code was one he recognized so he answered anyway. “Hello?” He said, softly sighing.

“Is this the father of y/n Aitchison?” A voice sounded.

George’s attention piqued. “Yes, step-father.”

“This is Principal Mitchill, from y/n’s school. How are you doing today?” He said.

“Fine- is y/n alright?” George, getting straight to the point.

“Yes. However, I’m afraid she was sent to my office this morning

George grew confused. being sent to the front office hadn’t been unusual for you lately, but a call being sent home hadn’t happened before. The pair have noticed your mood changed recently, little slips of anger issues or what have you. Never directly to them though. They chalked it up to hormones of a growing girl and let it be, but now, George was connecting some dots.

”We’ve been trying to get into contact with her mother but she wasn’t answering. Do you know if she or yourself could come pick her up?”

George started to stand and put his dish away. “Her mom is out of town. I can be there in 15.”

“Thank you, see you then.”

…

”A fist fight! Really?” he said, as he slammed the door shut while getting in the car.

You rolled your eyes from the passenger seat. ”She got what she deserved. It’s not that big of a deal.”

”It’s a huge deal! Damn, even the shit I did when I was your age wasn’t ballsy enough like fist fight.” George really couldn’t believe what was happening. He couldn’t comprehend this news. Even given your history, this was so unlike you.

”Oh, of course. I bet you were an angel.”

He looked you dead on, “Not the point, missy. The point is you broke that girl's nose!”

”Have you seen her face? She deserved it.” You chuckled. George didn’t find it as funny though.

“Not the point ethier!” Damn it, she’s so much like her mother. ”You’re about to go to high school, y/n! They said this is going on your permanent record! They’re gonna look at his shit and see it and it's gonna get you in trouble down the road.”

”Whatever, I don’t care.” you said, mumbling, still loud enough for George to hear.

“Since when? Since when has this new, grungy, uncool, mean girl take over the body of my y/n who used to love school and would DREAM of putting a fist up against a petty teenager? Huh? What happened to her?”

”Oh shut up! Stop pretending to be my dad.”

As much as he knew you didn’t mean it. As much as he wanted to brush the comment off like it was nothing, he couldn’t deny the slight ache in his heart. You faced the window, too scared to confront him. You felt his eyes remain on you, even more when he let out a sigh before starting the car,

”Forgive me for caring.”

…

You ran straight upstairs when you got home. you expected him to stop you, tell you to come down, but he didn’t. You know yourself, you didn’t mean it. However, you didn’t know if George knew that.”

Hours passed, you declined dinner when George offered via text, he thought you were still mad at him, you thought he was still mad at you.

You worked up the courage at around 10 pm. You had heard his footsteps lead to his and Charli’s shared bedroom almost an hour ago, and figured it was time to go and apologize. the more you sat around or tried to distract you self from the events earlier today, the more agonized you felt.

You knocked out he door. He was sat up in bed, doing some work on his laptop. He smiled at thee sight of you. You just stood awkwardly at the door.

You had planned what to say, tried to imagine how this would all go down, but no rods came out of your mouth when you tried to speak, instead, just a tear down your cheek.

He playfully opened up his arms to you and you practically ran into his embrace, already starting to cry. He let out an almost fake grunt and kissed your head as you started to ramble.

”I didn’t mean what I said.” You spoke, softly.

”i know you didn’t-“

”I’m so sorry!” your cried into him. George just smiled.

”You don’t need to be sorry.”

”I said you weren’t my dad! And you are! You are my dad! You were trying to be helpful and I was being a bitch.”

”Hey! You are not a bitch.” He said, grabbing the sides of your face.

”But I’m sorry.”

”Fine. You’ll be forgiven when you tell me what going on with you.”

You groaned and he smiled.

You thought for a minute. truthfully, you had your answer, it was just hard to put into words. ”I don't like school anymore.” You started.

”No?”

You paused. ”No.”

”Why no?” He asked.

“It’s too boring.”

He smiled again. ”Well, everyone finds school boring.”

”Not me. I used to love school.”

”Hm. What happened then.”

You shrugged. ”I started not loving it?”

”Why’s that?”

You changed the subject, ”I feel like I haven't been the same since Justin was here.” George moved, to look directly at you. ”I don’t know why but I con’t stop thinking abut him…the things he did to me…or my mom.”

He didn't know a lot about Justin, or the specific things he did to you, knowing it was always a touchy subject and Charli and George wanted to respect your wished, as long as they knew you were okay. ”Like what.” He asked.

”I don’t want to talk about it.”

George feared he overstepped. ”Ok, we don’t have to. Why do you think you can't stop thinking about him though.”

”I get scared…that he’s gonna do something again. And maybe that’s why I keep acting out? I really don’t know-“

”Hey, It’s okay. You don’t need answers right now.” You nodded. “Just know I’m here if you need help finding them.”

[yowyowyaoi]

*at an Akatsuki meeting*

Pein: Alright, guys; as you know we’ve been having some severe financial problems lately.

Kakuzu: More than severe; we’re practically bankrupt.

Pein: Right. So, Konan had an idea that may help us generate some money. Konan?

Konan: Thank you, Pein. As some of you may be aware, body pillows are the latest trend these days. Not just any body pillows, but ones with pictures on them that the buyer finds to be “attractive”. Based on a recent poll, it’s been determined that Deidara, Itachi and Hidan are deemed the most attractive persons in this group, so —

Zetsu: What are you talking about? When I took that poll, YOU beat out all three of those guys by thousands of votes…

Konan: Oi, you’re not using MY image on something some perverted old man is going to buy and do terrible things to!

Konan: But anyways … *brings out the prototypes of the three boys’ pillows* This is what we’re going to be selling. Kakuzu has launched a website and —

Hidan: *grabbing his pillow* Holy shit I look fucking HOT!! Hey, ‘Kuzu … you want one for your room?

Kakuzu: And give myself nightmares? Pass.

Itachi: I … I’m not so sure I’m comfortable with my image being used for such a thing … but I suppose I’m grateful that in spite of my health issues I’m still found to be physically desirable.

Deidara: Oi … why am I shirtless?! Nobody wants to see the weird mouth on my chest, hm! I —

Kakuzu, on his laptop: The Deidara pillow just sold out.

Konan: W-what?? But we just launched the website and he had over 5,000 units! What the —

Tobi: That’s great, Senpai! Er, unrelated question but, Kakuzu-san … what do you do when you max out three credit cards at once?

Kakuzu:

Kisame: T-Tobi, did you —

Tobi, in Obito voice: Don’t you dare judge me, shark-boy. I’ve wanted this man for a year, and if THIS is the only way I get to cuddle him while I sleep, then so be it.

Deidara:

Everyone else:

[cryptidize]

So lately, I've been job searching again. Not a surprise, I know... I'm usually looking for something new at least once a year or so. But the reason is because I keep leaping from sinking ship to sinking ship - every job, both corporate and small business, has been failing spectacularly in some way.

I won't be talking about specifics, but let me mention some themes I notice to determine whether a job is going under.

1.) Labor Violations

Of course, this is always a red flag. If they tell you not to discuss pay with coworkers, this is a labor violation. There are many protections you have as an individual who works. These protections are not taught in school, nor college, nor by your families, so it's good to become familiar with your rights. You may even discover after reading this that your rights are being violated. If you find that is the truth, please see the Department of Labor and their process for reporting this violation. You may receive additional compensation for doing so, simply because of the violation.

2.) The Invisible Growth

Some jobs will claim they're the "fastest growing" xyz in the industry. Some places will claim they've had to expand their facilities, their workload, their staff. Growth is not always a bad thing, but once you're there, you may notice their pitfalls. Maybe their facility is in disrepair with a leaky roof. Maybe their workload increased, but not workers and pay. Maybe they're margin pinching about cleaning products. These are cause for some alarm, simply because they are growing, but not sustaining. Not ensuring every growth move is accompanied by standard procedures and improving work conditions can be damning in the future. The enshittification of business.

3.) Confusing Time Off

Some businesses will make language around time off confusing. Where I work currently, we have PTO (Personal Time Off), VTO (Voluntary Time Off) and VTO (Vacation Time Off). Personal and Voluntary are not paid. You cannot use either of these methods until after your 90 days. AFTER 1 YEAR, you earn Vacation time. When this was originally pitched to me, personal time was a replacement for sick time, but they conveniently left out that I wouldn't be compensated. I also have to let them know 2 weeks in advance for every day I use, and 6 weeks in advance to take Vacation Time longer than 1 day. Places do this in order to give the illusion of having a work/life balance.

4.) No Experts

Certain jobs (warehouses come to mind) have a high turn-over for all positions except management. When this happens, you start to run dry on expertise. Workers tend to talk and ask each other questions. This is a normal behavior in jobs, especially if training is brief or lacking in areas, but if no one is knowledgeable on the work they're doing, wrong/incomplete knowledge is being passed around. The main way i can diagnose this issue is within a business' IT Team. How many people do they have for every computer? Is it just one guy with an engineering degree? How often is the technology updated or cleaned? The laptops at my work are being charged with Nintendo Switch chargers and killed slowly because we have 1 guy with an engineering degree doing all the general IT and it Sucks. This is a symptom of the turnover.

I know this may seem like a random post, but now more than ever, businesses are violating our rights and protections, as well as our kindness as people. I'm tired of it! Unionizing is great, I love to see people banding together, but individuals have power too! You have every right to complain to the labor board! You can fight for your rights with or without a team! I wish you luck!

[bangtanfancamp]

Headed to the Mountains |KNJ

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

•one shot

•Masterlist

•pairing: songwriter Kim Namjoon x oc with chronic pain

•word count: 3,465

•genre: escapism, hurt/comfort, smut, established relationship

•rating: MATURE/ 18+

•warnings: current event commentary, somewhat anti- American sentiment (I live in Texas so I see a lot of mess first hand 🫤 it’s my country but my god, it’s messy), stress, chronic pain, high sensitivity, sensory issues, first person voice, smut smut smutty smut, oral (female receiving and male), tandem oral, smex, doggy style?, Namjoon’s big brain during smex, smut with feelings and a lot of thoughts (as usual) ((all my air sign placements really coming out to play

•a/n: idk what this is, besties, besides extremely unedited and wildly indulgent. I may change the voice out of first person and all the “i’s” to “you’s” but it’s up the way it’s up for now. 🤷🏽‍♀️The world is just a horrifying place right now, especially in the US, and I just wanted to write something that felt like a small refuge, spend a little time some place that felt better, so we’re back in Namjoon’s living room. Also, who better to escape into the woods and away from reality with than the founder of namjooning himself ((also also, that bit about Pennsylvania was 100% true. It’s wild here, man))

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I cannot get comfortable for the life of me,” I huff grumpily.

It’s a Monday night, late in March. The threat of rain has been looming for hours. Despite its sudden absence in the forecast when I check the weather app, I can still feel it in my bones. In the raw, creaky way my joints scrape against each other. The way the inflammation in my body burns like fire ants beneath my skin.

Namjoon is quick to notice from across the room.

“This weather’s been making your body feel like hell this spring.”

“Yeah, I hate to begrudge it though. Winter was even worse.”

“Gosh, it really was huh?” He frowns at the laptop screen on his desk. He’s got the tiniest beanie shoved on his very big head but somehow, it works. The tips of his hair peak past the beanie’s brim, brushing the mussed hair of his furrowed eye brows. “God, I can’t stand to stare at a screen a second longer.”

He peels his gold rimmed glasses off his nose, rubbing the little indentions they've made along the bridge and pressing his fingers into his closed eye sockets. I can tell he’s exhausted and miserable too about how much energy life seems to require of him these days.

“I’m going to scoop you up and make you the most comfortable woman in the world, I promise. Just give me like three minutes.” He tips back in his desk chair, the spine of it sliding out to a wide reclined angle as his long legs stretch out in front of him.

“Why did we spend so much money on a couch that’s not even comfortable, joonie?” I whine, shifting once again.

“Because the last one was even less comfortable than this one,” he reminds me, “and at least this one is cognac leather,” he shrugs. “It’s comfy on the eyes at least”

“Well I need it to be comfy for my bones.” I grunt, shoving yet another throw pillow out of your way. “Maybe we should pick up and move to the shore, like in a regency novel. I think the air would be good for me. I wonder if American healthcare accepts existential dread and deep chronic pain as enough of a reason to just financially support us until I turn to dust.”

“You and your TikTok algorithm both know as well as I do that America will do no such thing,” Namjoon chuckles with his eyes closed.

“I know…. But they should take at least some culpability. God knows most of my health problems probably exist BECAUSE of them.” I slide the strap of my bra and shirt off my shoulder, not because I want to be a seductress but because the elastic is cutting into my throbbing right trap muscle and if I don’t get some of the tension off of it, I might scream.

“Right? Did you hear about the latex spill in the Delaware river yesterday? The entire city of Philadelphia doesn’t have usable drinking water right now. My friend there literally got a text message about it from the city strongly recommending every use bottled water only until

Further notice. One and a half million people woke up to that text Message! It’s insane.” Namjoon pulls his oversized hood up over his beanie as he looks up at the ceiling, ankles crossed beneath the desk.

“Lord, haven’t we lived through enough of this? I’m so tired, joonie.” I can hear how pitiful I sound. To his credit, he treats me just the same as when I sound intellectually astute and strong. I’ve always liked that about him.

“If the world is going to hell in a hand basket anyway, maybe we should look into a- moving internationally and b- signing up for a payment plan on one of those YouTube influencer mattresses,” Namjoon tips his head my way, and suddenly my heart feels a little more light.

“Ooo, the helix?“ I smile, for perhaps the first time tonight.

His dark eyes twinkle in the low evening lamplight.

“ I actually did some research and found one made out of avocados.”

“Is that as close as I can get now that my body has decided it’s allergic to Avos?”

Namjoon’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “God, your body would find a way to betray you like that wouldn’t it?”

“It’s not my fault I’m too delicate for this world,” I shrug.

“I forget you were born inside a flower that protected you from the world with its petals until it bloomed, thumbelina.”

“If I could take a nap inside a peony right now, I’d do it in a heartbeat…. The pollen might be too much though.” I sigh.

“Come here,” Namjoon laughs, standing from his chair and extending his hand toward me.

“Where are you taking me?”

I slip my knuckles between his and knock against his shoulder with my head.

“To my bumblebee. Take you on a spin around the block” he winks.

“I’m surprised you didn’t say take a ride. It’s like the only lyric you use these days” I snicker, bumping the curve of my hip into his.

“You’re supposed to write what you know,” he shrugs.” It’s not my fault your hips are your area of expertise.”

He winks at me and god, if he took every piece of clothing off of me right now, I’d ride him in a heartbeat.

Shit. Knowing him, he can probably feel my response to him without even looking at me. Sure enough, he looks down, smiling until his dimples dip in his cheeks, and damn it, I’m so captivated by the focaccia dough dips in his face that I stumble into the corner of the wall. My hip catches and I yelp, more embarrassed than in pain.

“Shh, hey, I got you.”

That calm voice of his is so low right now as his palm curves around the dip in my hip that got nicked by the wall. I tip into his long, warm torso and let him guide me into the bedroom. I’m clearly too disoriented and agitated to make it here without careening into something else and frustrating myself, so I’m happy for the assistance. Besides, being scooped up in Namjoon’s substantial hands is never a bad place to be.

“Thanks, baby. I needed that.”

I press my temple into his chest, kiss his ribs. Marvel at the resistance of muscle I feel beneath his soft green shirt. I press my nose into the fabric and let the warmth of him calm me. His other hand strokes soft knuckles along my jaw. His touch is so light and sweet - I feel my shoulders drop as he does it.

“Pick me up?” I whisper, eyes lifting softly to look up at him from where I’m pressed into his chest.

His hands slide up my sides, palms pressed into my waist as he lifts me. The soft grunt he makes as my thighs wrap around his ribs makes something in my brain feel a little fuzzy. Life is better like this, I think. Our faces nuzzled cheek to cheekbone, his hands fitted beneath my thighs, mine trailing softly through the silky bits of his hair peeking out of the back of his beanie as my arms drape over his shoulders like fabric. I can feel the knot of tension in the middle of my spine begin to untie itself as I melt into him. God, I’m so happy he exists.

“Where would you like to go, princess?”

Namjoon kisses the top of my ear, and that fuzzy tingle in my brain is back.

“What are my options?”

I press my lips softly to his throat in light, meditative kisses. They’re more like delicate exhales. My tongue barely tips out to taste his skin. Just a touch. Just a taste. Sleepy and slow because that’s all I have the energy for. His eyelids do that hazy half flutter that tells me he likes it enough to pretend he doesn’t so that I’ll keep going. I smile as he gently tips his head to the side, as if waiting for my answer, but really he’s just giving me more room to access that spot behind his ear that likes my lips. Let’s humor the man.

“We could go to the bed, the shower, the bath…” he gasps a little on the last word, the ah sound coming out too airy as I gently mouth at his pulse point and his grip on my thighs gets tense. “Or there’s a ….counter right here.” His head tips toward the half bath in the hallway as his fingers dig into the meat of my legs.

When I look up to meet his eyes, they’ve gone serpentine. Deep and dark and heavy as he holds me close. I can feel how shallow his breathing is becoming and I smile, sleepy and soft as he watches me.

“Take me to bed, Joonie.”

He’s kissing me before I can even finish his name.

He tips the door open with one of his feet before squeezing us both through the threshold of it. With his eyes closed and his tongue between my lips, he’s bound to crash into something and he does. He thunks an elbow, I knock my head, but in seconds, he’s cradling it where I’ve bumped the wall, spilling “sorry, I’ve got you, sorry,” onto my tongue as he pulls me in closer.

The spell doesn’t break.

He’s big and he’s bulky but he’s careful with me as he lays me on the bed and climbs over me. His mouth doesn’t leave mine even as he peels off each piece of my clothing. His movements are slow, his touch tender as he does.

Namjoon has learned how to soothe my body when it’s alert like this. Knows the cool air feels refreshing and crisp when my skin is hot with pain and sensitivity so he gets me naked with a deft touch. He knows the feel of his skin is grounding for me so that soft green shirt of his hits the floor. Knows I love his hair so the beanie goes next. Knows I love the strength in his thighs so his shorts are next as he tugs my hips down beneath his to let me wrap my legs around his slim waist.

I'm so wrapped up in the warmth of him that I don’t realize he’s tugged my silk pillowcase beneath my head. It’s cool when my head falls back and I smile, toothy and wide, as his plush lips sink into my skin. He’s at my collarbone now, then the volume of my breasts. His breath is warm, the air is cool and his substantial hands grip me firm like dough he’s being careful with as he kneads.

His cock brushes against me between my legs and the bright feeling it sends sparkling through me makes my breathing stutter.

“Joonie,” I shiver, and I can feel him smile against my skin. See his eyes flash up at me in the dark.

“We do too much, baby.” He breathes, voice smoky and low like the dragon he is.

I don’t know what he means. My critical thinking is losing its sharpness as he suckles warm and soft at the dip of my ribs.

“Too much?” I can feel my brows crumpling, but his tongue is so warm on my stomach that my hands dig into his shoulders without my consent.

He reaches up to brush one hand over mine.

“Shhh, easy. We’re trying to relax you, not tense you up.”

He’s smiling. I can barely see him but I can feel him and I know his grin would only dissolve me deeper into the mattress.

“We do too much, we deal with too much. God, your skin is too motherfucking much,” he squeezes me, latches his soft mouth onto my waist and tugs at the skin. I can feel the bruise blooming there, but he’s off and on to the next before I can even get words out. “Your body is always trying to process all of it, but it’s too much. Let me take care of some of it- let me help.”

When His tongue slips between my legs, his strong hands push my legs wide, press them down when he feels me buckle. His breath is so warm, his mouth is so molten, his nose on my clit is so gentle- it all leaves my body in an exhale. Tension drops off like melted wax and I feel myself go supple in his palms as I let him do what he wants with me.

“There’s been so much chaos. So much to deal with. So much to do. I just want to run away from it all with you.”

His tongue is languid as it works on me. The rush of warmth undoes the aches in my body better than a hot bath ever has.

“Then let’s go, Joonie. Where do you want to go? I’ll follow you anywhere.” And I mean it. They’re not lusty rambles. They’re not hollow words. I’d follow him to the edge of the world.

He puts that plump mouth of his over my clit and the gentle way he slurps me up melts my bones into soup broth and clears my head.

“You’ll let me take you anywhere?”

He looks up at me, his mouth never leaving his post, working me slowly as he waits for my reply. His mouth is so wet, his eyes are so sharp and my body is just another piece of music he’s learned how to perfect. I nod, bottom lip bit between my teeth and relax as much as I can as he composes a symphony between my legs. His smile folds the crinkles around his eyes, and his aura flickers between lovingly soft and steadily authoritative as he doubles down, wrapping his arms around my legs to scoop my hips up into his face and pressing into me, deeper, faster, harder.

I arch up when he does, gasping as my shoulders lift up, my fingers twist in the bedspread, my jaw goes slack. He’s really doing a number on me and all I want to do is say thank you and let him continue.

He slides up my body then, one hand behind my head bringing my forehead to his as the other grips my hip with enough pressure to split it apart as he tips his cock inside me in a way I didn’t know I needed. The sound is squelchy and wet and he smiles as his nose bumps against mine.

“You’ll follow me?”

He sounds cocky in a way he hasn’t in a while and a little piece of me loves it. His hips are fluid as his cock rocks in and out of me. All I can do is nod wildly, disoriented as I clutch him close to me. My legs are folded up, feet along his hips for purchase with my knees butterflied wide. I’d laugh at how much I must look like a frog if this didn’t feel so good. He’s got a hand beneath my bum, lifting my hips off the bend and gliding his cock so deep into me that surely my organs are all shifting wide like the Red Sea to make room for him.

“Wherever you want to go,” I hum, arms falling slack. I’ve lost the energy to hold on to him, but he’s got me held up so precious and tight that we’re still more intertwined than two fibers of thread in a tight knit sweater. I’ve fused into him and now every breath is in tandem.

“I’m gonna take my girl away from here.”

His thumb brushes my bottom lip and I feel myself flush at his tenderness.

“Yeah?” My eyes are wide, following his. He hovers above me, furrowed face sculpted with intensity and aggression as his body works mine into ecstasy. I’ve really acquiesced to the fact that I’m nothing more than a soft lump of clay in his hands that he’s working with precision. I’ve always wanted to be a work of art.

He slips my breast into his mouth like a lychee jelly, moaning at the feel of me tightening around him when he does it. Pumping harder, faster, deeper, only to pull out and dip his long fingers into the mess he’s made. He slathers it over all my sensitive bits, caressing with finesse as sparklers crackle in my vision.

When He pulls me up and into him, my face is pressed between his pecs and god, I can’t keep it together. I kiss them furiously as he works, clutching onto his arms, dragging my fingers down his abs as he slides his glossy fingers over my clit like he’s casting a spell. I can’t breathe… I can’t breathe… I can’t….

But I can because I have to- Namjoon won’t ease up until he gives me the sweet oxytocin of release by his hands and I wouldn’t have it any other way. So I dig deep and exhale slow and controlled, whimpering as he rockets past that orgasm to send me into preparing for the next one. He smirks like I’m his plaything and I comply with no resistance. I’ll have as many rounds as he gives me. I’m a big girl. I can handle- Oh!

At least, I thought I could handle anything. Naive me, I suppose.

I smile into the sheets when he tips me over onto all fours. He kisses my shoulders, kisses along my spine, brushing his thumbs on the folds on my hip, all tender and kind and syrupy sweet as the behemoth between his legs tips ever so slowly inside of me despite my incredible tightness, and I don’t know whether to breathe or scream so I press my face into the bedding and giggle like there’s something wrong with me.

“Take you somewhere quiet,” he slides in deeper. “With no noise,” he thrusts. “No news.” He thrusts. “Just nature.”

My chest feels tight with affection but my body feels limps like a rag doll as he pumps me silly. His gargantuan hands holding up my hips are the only thing keeping me from sliding off the bed and melting into the floorboards.

“Joonie, i’d- I’d love that,” soft puffs of air leave me with each fluid roll of his hips. The snap at the end of the graceful flourish knocks my skull a little loose but I don’t mind. Thinking so little is really quite nice.

“Take you for walks, lay with you in nature, fuck you like this in an outdoor bath tub while we watch the stars.”

His hand glides down my spine as he paints beautiful pictures with his words. My heart and my body don’t know which way is up.

“Escape all this chaos. At least for a little bit.” He smirks. I catch a glimpse of it as I look over my shoulder, reach back to hold his hand.

“I might never let you drag me back to the real world.” My smile is gooey, fond and so is his now. His dimples have come out - all his sincerity and heart on display, as his hips still even as he still fills me up.

“I can write poetry in the wild,” he shrugs. “My music would probably be better for it.”

He looks bashful and soft. The juxtaposition of his strong body and sweet face make me dip forward. He slides out of me, watching with confusion as I guide him to stand beside the bed.

When I flip onto my back, letting my head loll backwards off the bed in front of him, he arches a brow at me. I just chuckle and pull him forward by the back of his legs.

“Come here. I want to make my own music.”

I take the length of him into my mouth and he topples over, hands bracing on either side of me on the bed. He groans so sweet and low that I smile as I take him deep. His knees buckle when my nose tips softly against his balls as I suckle him slowly and it takes everything in me not to laugh at how happy I am.

His hands travel my body as his mouth occupies itself. He makes a meal of my breasts, takes a drink between my legs, holds my throat to lighten my breath. When we cum in tandem, he collapses to my side as we catch our breath in silence.

The night is still, the air is cool and rain is finally trickling against the windows.

Our bodies are spent and our plan is set.

We’ll run away soon enough.

But now, cradled breast to breast, we sleep knowing our world is just the smallest bit brighter.

[sparrow-flight]

Operation STATIC SHOCK

[4413 words, 23 minutes]

This letter was written in a sketchbook stored in Agent HROTHGAR’s locker. It is written in a blend of Ingush and Russian.

Operation STATIC SHOCK 13 FEB 2017

First operation. Helvetia Branch 4 headquarters in Rio, Brazil. Amaia is late, and Melydice immediately jumps on the opportunity to tell it’s a good habit to be on time. What a great start. I am not looking forward to her talkative presence.

Arquette tells us about the case. A static worm came out of a man. Two people have been bit. No one knows how it happened or what it means, but he has an idea: it’s because of a drug people have been trying to send out. He doesn’t know where it’s from. I guess that’s our job now.

He drops a duffel on the table: 1 pistol for each of us. He empties the bag and leaves as Fisher enters, who mutters about missing the meeting. Again, Melydice scolds him. Even though we flew here on the same plane, he apparently had another meeting before this one.

Arquette immediately starts walking out. Fisher chases after him and we follow. We go outside to see the van we’ll be using: a Benz sprinter. The kind I’ll tell the kids to avoid. We use it to go to the crime scene, an apartment. Arquette starts it. Fisher sits in shotgun, opens a laptop, and we go in. God, it was really fucking hot in there. But if I took our uniform jacket off, Arquette will scold me. Or worse, Melydice.

Speaking of Melydice, she mentions logistical issues with another agent to Arquette. I thought it was about Molly, who was supposed to be here. But apparently she wasn’t here because of food poisoning (she ate seafood for her birthday). Anyway, Arquette tells Melydice to leave the files on his desk. I don’t think the rest of us were supposed to hear that, because he looks back at us after saying that while driving. Fisher takes over the wheel while that happens.

We’re still on the way to the apartment. I’ll continue writing after we investigate.

---

We arrive. The three junkies and the five cops are there. Arquette parks and tells us to get out. He and Fisher are only here to babysit (they have another task to do). So I go talk to the police and the junkies immediately. I don’t want to spend more time here than necessary. I ask them what happened. One of them wonders if they’re allowed to tell us. I don’t know what to do, so I look at our babysitters. Arquette mouths, “Lie”.

This is going terribly already.

Melydice does the talking again. She says we’re back up. Obviously they don’t know who we are, who called us in, and know none of us are locals. But I guess they’re shaken enough to let it slip. He tells us about the call to the apartment. A worm came out of someone’s chest like the “conjuring” (I don’t know what that is). 

After that, Melydice takes charge of the group. She suggests searching the apartment and investigating wounds. Yona checks the junkie’s and officer’s wound: swollen, developed new tissue (Metasised? Metastasized? I don’t know what that is), and static-like. The junkie’s scar is worse than the officer’s. Melydice then says to split the group: two to talk to junkies (Tatsu, Melydice), three to search the apartment (Amaia, Yona, me).

The three of us see the body the worm tore through. Yona inspects the body. She says its nerve channels are scrambled, repurposed by alien signals. The pineal gland also grew a radar organ that broadcasted signals. I don’t understand what any of that means, but it doesn’t sound good.

I use the UV light on my gun to look for the drugs. They weren’t good at hiding them. It’s just in the cupboard: small vials of glowing pink liquid. I give it to Yona. She asks me what drug I think it is. I don’t know why.

Amaia figures out the drug’s taken with a syringe, so I suggest looking for them. I help Yona with my UV light. She finds one syringe easily with equipment to test drug purity. I continue shining normal light on her. Yona reads the test results and says the drug is nootropic (heightens senses). Fisher was right. She is useful.

Then, I search the bag the needle came from. It’s filled with university textbooks and notebooks. A student’s. I take the bag. Amaia checks the body and finds a wallet. His name was Ted, 22. He was just three years older than Hrodwyn. Poor kid.

I check for any signs of other people being here, and then we leave to join Melydice and Tatsu.

Outside, they tell us about their talk with the junkies (Vito, Mike). Vito thinks he needs to go to a hospital. Melydice says he will, after answering her questions. So he does. The flat belonged to Ted. Vito and Mike were there only for a hit. Neither are the suppliers. This was Ted’s third time taking the drug. It’s the first for Vito and Mike.

Vito said the drug was called “Pink”, or “Fuzz”. It lets you see everything, like “mega LSD”. It lets you see everything, and everything sees you. At the crime scene after taking the drug, Ted opened his mouth. Static came out, and then the worm came out and bit Vito.

Melydice asks where Ted got the drug from. He got it at a comic store. He used a sign up sheet for a game room (Magi Nation, Jyhad, some dead game), asked for 30 minutes, and the dealers showed up. Vito and Mike have never gone to the store.

Tatsu gets his turn and asks Vito how he and Mike knew Ted and the drugs (Ted was their university friend). And then he tells him how things aren’t so fun with drugs involved. Vito tells him to fuck off. Even then, Tatsu tries to medicate Vito’s wound, even though he has no idea what to do with it. What a strange man.

Melydice reconfirms if it was Vito and Mike’s first time. Vito confirms. He says they saw other worlds with the drug and refuse to take it again. He also tells us there are other users besides the three of them. They all know to sign up for the dead game.

By the way, while this was happening, Vito keeps asking Melydice to go to a hospital and to see a doctor. And each time, Melydice tells him she’ll let him only after he answers her questions. It’s good that she’s efficient. That’ll get me home sooner. But I remember he’s just a kid and feel a bit bad for him. In the end, Yona was the one who treated Vito.

Melydice starts questioning the bitten officer. She asks if it was a wild animal report. The officer says yes. And then Melydice insists that it was a wild animal he saw. The officer describes the same thing as the one before and whenever he says monster, Melydice talks over him to say wild animal. I don’t know how convincing she thinks she is…

This is when an officer approaches Arquette and Fisher to ask them questions. So I walk between them, tell Arquette we’re done and we can leave. But the officer still tries asking me who we are. I tell him it’s not his business. He says it is. I don’t know what to say. But Melydice likes to talk and she’s good at talking to people. So I point at Melydice. Ask her. Not me.

That worked. He goes to her. As she says we’re private investigators working under an NDA for a private health firm, I see her slip her wallet out, and she makes sure the officer sees it. I shouldn’t be surprised she’s not above that. And I figure I should be there for extra support, unfortunately, if things go dirty.

I don’t really follow what she says, but standing there seemed to work. The officer asks us to “show credentials” but instead, brings us aside and opens his hand, expecting money. I am not spending a single cent for the job. So it’s good that Melydice is. The officer takes her money.

At this point, it has been 1 hour and 20 minutes. Cops have been here 15 minutes: they’ve been here for 1h and 45 minutes total. In that time, Vito’s wound went from the fresh state of the officer’s to the worse state it is in now. We don’t have much time.

We agree on a plan: Arquette and Fisher will drive the victims to a hospital and will drop us off at Stoneburner Comics (we got the address from one of the junkies). Fisher also changes into his suit, for some reason. It’s a 15 minute drive to the comic store. We just arrived, so I’ll continue writing later.

---

The comic store is empty, except for some people. The sign up sheet at the front is easy to find. 20 people have signed up for dead games. 20 people have signed up for death.

Melydice takes a picture of the list and writes down Yona’s name. Hm. The store owner sees us and reaches for his phone. I thought he was onto us. So I walk over and put his phone down. Just in case. I say we’re only here for a good time. He doesn’t say anything. 

I can’t fucking believe what I’m about to do. You would never let me live this down. 

I sling my arm over Melydice’s shoulder to convince him that we’re only here for a good time with friends. That was all for fucking nothing, because he wasn’t convinced. So I try to ask who he was calling, but he’s too scared to answer! Why is he so scared? I don’t understand. I’m trying very hard to be nice, especially with my arm around fucking Melydice. I’m sure you’d agree. Right?

Melydice does calm him down in the end, and the owner says that he was going to call the dealers… until I put the phone down. God. What a sick joke. How was I supposed to know?? He could’ve just told me. At least Melydice has talked sense into the owner and I can leave. But Melydice holds the back of my jacket so I can’t. Bastard. At least I can write all this down before the dealers get here.

---

20 minutes later, Arquette calls Melydice from the hospital. He’s posing as a doctor and says the kids’ wounds are growing. Since Melydice has the information on the wounds and drugs, he asks her for help. Melydice calls Yona outside for her to relay what she knows to Henri. She thinks amputation is not a good idea, but remembers the radar organ in the pineal gland. In the living victims, the radar may be sending or receiving signals. She suggests surgery to remove it. Arquette tells Fisher to find out if there is a basement: if there is, put the victims there. If that doesn’t work, trepanation. He speaks French and hangs up.

Then the dealers arrive, and we go into a game room. The dealers are 2 people. First: 7’ man, shit posture, bald patch on neck. He doesn’t have hair. Instead, it’s… long, thin cattails poking out of his head? Second: 5’ woman, all muscle, looks very sunburnt except for the glyph on her head. Strangely, I think I recognise it. Maybe from a book I’ve seen. It’s from another world, so she’s definitely not from this place. Maybe from this planet, but not of this… realm. Maybe you’d known more about it, Lin. Ah, but if you were here, I wouldn’t bring you into this mess.

The man is the one who talks. He asks how many we want. Melydice asks how many they have. The man opens his bag, showing 20 vials. Tatsu asks if they’re the only suppliers, and the man says they are.

I ask how much it is. It’s 4000 Real. God. I’m not spending that much for this job, and I’m especially NOT spending that much for drugs! I say it’s too expensive and leave. The rest follow. The dealers are upset and stare at us, but I don’t care. All I need to do is know their car. I see it, write down the licence plate in this sketchbook, and draw the symbol on the woman’s head. Melydice calls Fisher to pick us up.

When Arquette and Fisher arrive, I show them my sketchbook. Fisher goes to his computer and gets the car’s information. It includes the owner's apartment address. We leave immediately.

Fisher drives fast. Very fast. Arquette quickly gives our breaching order. Tatsu goes in first with his sword (why is he using a sword??). I’m next to throw a flashbang to cover him. Melydice gets the shotgun and goes next. Amaia and Yona are door guards.

We arrive. As Fisher and Arquette wait at separate exits, we don our kevlar vests and scopes and storm up to the fourth floor. Tatsu kicks down the door, and the skull on the table screams like a death whistle.

My gut tightens. Melydice kicks the skull. It shatters and stops screaming. The dealers aren’t here but others will hear it. We need to move fast.

Messy room. Takeout boxes everywhere. There’s a couch with a broken frame. Something heavy broke it, maybe. A pile of laundry behind it. I smell it before seeing it. Oily. Disgusting. There’s also a blue-grey metal gong on the wall. It doesn’t have any symbols on it.

Rooms: living room, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen. Amaia and Yona stand guard. Melydice checks the bedroom. I cover her. There’s a wardrobe and closet. The bed… is a mess. Medication, handguns, blood and… semen samples, candy, and coloured lamps shaped like a round cartoon cat. Very cute. Hygd might like it. Melydice checks under the bed. There’s nothing. I open one of the candies. Normal candy. I check the sample labels. Only has names and words ‘blood’ or ‘semen’. 

Melydice checks the closet. I watch her back. No clothes. But there’s a body. McDonalds cashier. Opened up. Missing organs. Walls smeared with no-scent incense. No wonder there’s no smell. But I can imagine it. He was just a kid. Really still a kid. He was just Merethel’s age. 17 years old.

Melydice asks Yona to inspect the body while calling her “sweetie”... Meanwhile, I shine UV light on the corpse, the closet (just smears), and the rest of the room. There’s nothing much. Melydice checks the wardrobe. It’s designed to suspend a person (there’s a harness dangling from the top).

Melydice checks on Yona and asks if something is wrong, as if there’s nothing wrong with a teenager being ripped apart. Yona says his chest was crudely opened and it is empty. Heart, lungs, stomach, liver, all gone. Though his pancreas is still there. There are signs of struggle: he was serrated open while alive. I’ve seen all sorts of things before. You know that, Lin. But this… now that the job’s done, my mind keeps going back to Merethel.

Anyway, Melydice thanks her. The kid has no identification on him, so I take a picture of his face and the room. I wonder if his parents know. They should.

Tatsu checks the kitchen: cabinets, oven, a fridge. He opens the fridge. There are sheets and sheets of fatty skin marinating in plastic bags, their colours changing to the light. The oven has wooden boxes. The cabinet has lighters, incense, crystal necklaces. Tatsu goes back to the boxes to open them, and there’s a shit ton of Pink.

In the bedroom, I check for fingerprints on the items on the bed again with my UV light. I ask Yona to record the fingerprints, and we both gather the rest of the evidence. Yona categorises them to bag them. For the 5 handguns, I turn on the safety, unload them, keep one magazine on me and hand one to Yona. She thanks me. I distribute the other magazines to the other agents. Tatsu joins us to help.

Amaia suddenly locks the door and puts a chair under the handle. We stare at her. She says she hears the dealers’ voices echoing up the stairwell. They’re coming. There’s no key. The dealers have it on them. 

I quickly check the bathroom. There are two sets of helmets and “shoulder pads” (I searched it up later: gorget). On the shower curtains are glyphs. They look like computer writing. I tell the other agents. Melydice and Tatsu checks.

Melydice reads the glyphs:

WHEN THE CURTAIN IS DRAWN FROM ONE SIDE TO THE OTHER, THE GATE OPENS.

Tatsu reads more:

SHOULD YOU OPEN IT, THE AIR WILL FREEZE. IT WILL LEAD TO THE FEATURELESS PLANE AND THE MONITOR WILL CARRY YOU TO THE BORDERWORLD. THE WHIPLASH IS FATAL WITHOUT NECK PROTECTION.

Tatsu also tells us about the Pink in the oven. But there’s no time to do anything about it now! We put our backs to the wall: Melydice to one side of the door, Tatsu to the other. We hear them coming, talking in a strange language. Amaia hears the woman fiddle with the keys and twist it. The man says something in a low tone. They speak in hushed voices.

And then the man speaks in English. He stutters. “What-what-what do-do you-you-you want?”

Surprisingly, he seems… genuine. Open to talk. And nervous. Good. I ask if he wants to live. Silence. Then, from the other side of the door, after whispering with the woman, the man says the gong blocks out sound from the room. If we want to negotiate, we open the door.

Melydice removes the chair from the doorknob and opens the door. She tells them to put their hands on their heads and walk in. The outer layer of the woman’s skin looks like it’s made of stone, while the man’s skin is peeling off. Tatsu notices the skin looks like the one in the fridge.

When they see our guns, the man, who’s 2 feet taller than the woman, tries to hide behind her. He’s trembling. Melydice says there’s nothing to be scared of if they follow our instructions. The man grips the woman’s shoulders. She shrugs them off. Tries to. Says she’ll put her hands up because the man’s too much of a bitch to.

We keep the guns on them. Melydice keeps threatening them. The woman says not to do anything funny and threatens us with two stone eggs in her hands…

I notice the man eyes the bathroom. I follow his gaze and look back at him with a raised eyebrow. The woman says to not look at him, to look at her, and to ask her questions. 

Amaia closes the door. Melydice asks where they get the drugs from. The woman asks why, saying we probably already have some. But we don’t care about that. We want to know where they’re from. The woman says ‘Mechanics’.

Melydice asks her to elaborate, but the woman instead comments about how calm we are, as if we’ve seen these things before. (No idea what they’re talking about, but alright.) She explains they’re not from this world, which is obvious at this point. Then she explains where they get the drug from. Pink is fuel they get from mechanics of their world that’s used to fix communication devices. They sell it here because it’s cheap back home. They come here, take human materials (the ones on the bed), and sell them back at their home.

I ask about the skin in the fridge. They’re disguises to look like humans. It’s what the man wears, but it doesn’t look good on him. He’s too stressed for it to work. I ask about the kid in the closet. Organ trafficking. Some things still stay the same across worlds, huh?

I also ask what the rock eggs do. She asks if we want to find out. Tatsu and I say no. As Melydice reaches to her pocket, the woman’s hands tighten around the eggs. But all Melydice wants to do is to call Arquette.

Some time later, we hear his voice: “Room service.” Amaia opens the door. Arquette and Fisher enter. Fisher’s two fists are held in front of him and when the door closes, a flaming sword appears in his hands. You would’ve loved seeing that. The sword, I mean. It sounds like the story about the sword in the stone you tell me about. The one with Merlin, right?

Arquete gets more information out of the drug dealers. They’re from a city called the Borderworld, made by extinct aliens. It’s filled with refugees from other universes. Traffickers, sorcerers, slavers, awful people. Also slaves. These two go between both worlds through gates like the bathroom, trying to keep low because both worlds hate them. So they do a bad job in both worlds. Money’s tight. They have a hard time keeping it. Besides Pink, they also sell machetes (made out of meteoric iron, intricately engraved, very useful for combat), protective equipment, necklaces (good for defence, guns will be useless with them).

And then, instead of killing them or arresting them, Arquette decides to negotiate with them for some goddamn reason. If they stop selling drugs and stop killing people, Helvetia will keep them alive as payment for their goods. He continues to threaten the woman, cornering her, and intimidates her into dropping the stone eggs, the snake. She complies. Nothing happens.

Arquette tells Melydice to bag the eggs as evidence and to take them away. We can handle the aliens as we please. As we do so, Melydice tells them they’re lucky we were told not to kill them. The woman also spits out an amulet and her skin turns to normal.

I hold Fisher back. Since he’s the computer guy I thought he could, I don’t know, track the kid’s face and find his parents. And I don’t need to use English to talk to him. He says he’ll take care of it. No parent wouldn’t want to know their kid has been torn up like that. It’ll be a closed casket funeral, and he’ll find the kid’s parents.

We’re the last to leave. Fisher tells me that even if it doesn’t look like it, this was a job well done. It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. It doesn’t feel like anything.

Everyone gets in the van. The woman and man are handcuffed. Arquette fixes the disguise on the man, looks through the evidence bags, and keeps one of the cat lamps. I’m glad I kept one in my bag. Hygd’s going to love it. I hope she will. He also talks about keeping one of the lighters even though Fisher says Arquette doesn’t smoke anymore.

Arquette tells the prisoners that they’ll be kept in a special cell where Melydice can visit them. Melydice interrupts, saying he's making another mistake by keeping them. Arqutte says it’s better to keep them out of others’ hands, even though there are other ways of doing that. The prisoners also have weapons and defences that are good for Helvetia. Melydice leans back into her seat: “Don’t say I didn't warn you, Mr. Arquette.” Arquette trusts her to take care of him when he gets over his head.

I’m writing part of this as we drive back to headquarters. I also take another cat lamp: something for Molly’s birthday. She’s still young. She might like it. Yona takes two of them. Tatsu and Amaia take incense.

We arrive at headquarters. Fucking Arquette had the same idea as me and gave his cat lamp to Molly! Melydice tells her to throw it away because it’s “touched by devils”. I think it’s more important for her to know they were left next to blood and semen samples. I give my second cat lamp to Molly since I don’t know what to do with a spare. I tell her to not listen to Melydice, but that she may want to wash her hands because of the blood and semen samples. I clarify that the samples weren’t on the bed. They were in the tubes. So the lamps are at least that clean.

Arquette and Fisher talk to each other in French as we follow them into an office. Arquette says we did good. And the bastard reveals he made us wear the uniforms to make the mission harder for us! He wants us to make sure we have the right clothes with the right situation. Obviously we already know that. A fucking six year old would know that!

He also reveals the police were under his pay. Apparently, when the cops at the apartment called their office, it also went to Helvetia. This won’t always be the case for our operations, though. Then he talks about the other Helvetia branches (we’re in the South American one). The North American branch was killed off. A prisoner from there either escaped or was broken out. The African branch killed themselves. The Asian branch is dying out. There’s only Europe, Antarctica, South America, and Australia left. Melydice raises an eyebrow at Arquette. I can hear her say “I told you so”.

We’ll get a message in late April to get our clearances, whatever that means. We’re also supposed to get “mandated therapy sessions” as well. I also don’t understand what that means, but I don’t care either. Because of the list of 20 we gathered, we got paid well. Very well. And most importantly, I can finally go home.

My flight home isn’t until tomorrow, so I’m writing this from my hotel room while lying on my bed. To be honest, I don’t know why I wrote this. I thought this would’ve been like those books you like to read. But even if you were here and I was stuck in Helvetia, I would never show this to you. It’s sick. And I’ll get killed for that, too.

I guess I can’t help it. Maybe in another world where all this was just make-believe, you would’ve liked reading these. And it’s always nice to write to you. It’s like you’re still here, listening to me. And I would really like you to be here right now.

---

Amaia, Melydice, Tatsu, and Yona belong to and were played by other @daruqin, @katastrofish, @mintrhine, and @inkysatell respectively. Arquette and Fisher belong to and were played by our game master @theroyalzealot.

This campaign session was based on the scenario "The Signal Smugglers" by mellonbread.

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