#But they can decide your life is more dispensable

[bekolxeram]

That was 2011. I rest my case.

Let's talk about the 21st century and queer rights

Sometimes I see a post and wonder what kind of world people live in, how ignorant and hateful they are of the community they claim to be part of, and even the most recent history of that community.

I saw this post with this line in it: "Its the 21th century, are we still suppose to justify people who lie at their partners in order to protect their reputation?" And I'm not reblogging because I don't want to have it on my blog.

So, let's talk about the 21st century and queer rights in the US, shall we, @queershits?

Did you know that same-sex marriage in the US as a whole has only been legal since the Supreme Court decision on Obergefell v. Hodges on June 26, 2015? Prior to that, the first state to grant same-sex marriage was Massachusetts in 2004, while the first civil unions for gay and lesbian couples became legal in 2000. But at the same time, 28 states had banned same-sex marriage and the recognition of those marriages from other jurisdictions until 2015. In fact, the federal government had been banned from recognizing same-sex marriages by the Defense of Marriage Act in 1996, which had been voided by the Supreme Court decision in 2015 but has only been fully repealed by the Respect of Marriage Act in 2022. That's all the 21st century. And very recent 21st century!

When Hen and Karen adopted Denny in 2011, they weren't married. Because at that point in time, they weren't allowed to in California.

Did you know that until the Supreme Court ruling on Lawrence v. Texas on June 26, 2003, same-sex sexual activity was illegal in 14 US states? And that even with that ruling 12 of these states have not changed their state's constitution, so that these laws aren't executable but still on the book and regularly used to harass queer people? (And didn't the current Supreme Court just say after overthrowing Roe v. Wade they'd like to take a good long look at Lawrence v. Texas, too? People might lose their rights again in those 12 states if the worst comes to pass here.) That's all the 21st century.

Did you know that "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" came into effect in 1994, allowing gay and bi people to serve in the US military as long as no one found out about their sexual orientation? If they were found out, they could face dishonorable discharges or even prison time. Either would be a permanent burden on their records for the rest of their lives. DADT was repelled in 2011 after a long and hard debate. That's well into the 21st century.

Karen explicitely states that DADT is part of the reason she didn't become an astronaut. (Though, NASA was never truly subjected to the rule as it is not a military organisation. But on the other hand, many of the astronatus are active or former military.)

Tommy was at the 118 in 2005. We know he was in the Army prior to joining the LAFD. That means Tommy served under the rule of DADT, which would have been an immense burden on him.

Do you know that there is a defense called "LGBTQ+ panic" often used in combination with a defense of insanity, provocation, or self-defense? This defense tactic is only banned in 21 US states, and most of those bans are very recent. In 2018, only three states had banned this defense. In 29 US states people are allowed to say "this person is gay/trans/queer/etc and I felt threated by that fact alone so I saw myself with no other choice but to hurt them" in a court of a law and the jury has to consider that argument. That's the 21st century.

Let's take a look at the kind of world Josh, Michael, and Tommy would have been children and teenagers in. That's not quite the 21st century, but it's near enough.

Tha aids epemedic started in the 1980s, and is — for the record! — still ongoing. But in the 1980s it was very much deemed a problem of the gay community only. And many, many people claimed outrageous things like "they're getting what they deserve". Josh and Tommy are both 80s children, Michael was a teenager in the 80s. We know Tommy grew up with a bigoted and hateful man like Gerrard as a father. He probably heard the above quote and worse regularly.

Have you ever heard the name Mathew Shepard, @queershits? (If not, go and educate yourself!) Mathew Shepard was a young gay man tortured and murdered in October 1998. Josh and Tommy would have been teenagers or maybe young adults (as we don't know the exact age of either of them) when that happened. It was all over the news and there were, again, people not shying away from saying he got what he deserved. I've no doubt Tommy's father (and Gerrard) was one of those people.

That's the world Josh, Michael, and Tommy grew up in as gay men that Josh talked about. They didn't hide to protect their reputation, as it was put in the quote above. They hid to protect their life and well-being. Finding the confidence and security to let go of that kind of learned behavior to protect yourself is so hard. But all three did it!

There are still people today who have to hide like this in the US. Because they're born into the wrong family or the wrong neighborhood or the wrong religious community where being queer is still seen as a ground to hate them, to exclude them, to hurt them, to kill them.

The number of hate crimes is rising again. The hard-won rights and freedom of queer people are threatened again. It's the 21st century, but that doesn't mean we are always safe or that we don't sometimes have to do shady things to protect ourselves or that we can lean back and enjoy the rights we have. Because many of us all over the world either don't have any rights or are facing the very real danger of losing the rights again that those who came before us fought so hard for.

[yeonboy]

𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ♡ choi yeonjun.

If you had known that a fun night out eating junk food with your best friend that you have always harbored a crush on would turn this sour because he misunderstood your words, you would have kept your mouth shut. Now Yeonjun has gone radio silent on you and if you want to salvage your friendship, you will have to get over your feelings first because he will never forgive you if he finds out. Right?

❧ choi yeonjun x f. reader | 16+ | college!au ♡ best friends to lovers!au ♡ angst ♡ humor ♡ fluff

❧ 7 k words

❧ warnings! inaccuracies wrt college sports/scouting/ice hockey, profanity, suggestive language, suggestive scenes, discussion and exhibition of puck bunny behavior, mentions of slut-shaming, misunderstandings, miscommunication, jealousy, some pining, yeonjun is stooooopiiiid, yn is also stooooopiiiid, one (1) singular heavy makeout sesh that gets a little out of hand hehe (:

❧ note! hi, world! this is a sideblog i created v v recently, but you won’t find links to my main anywhere bec i’ve decided to be a catfish on this one (: LOL jk, i just wanted a fresh start. i will be cutting back on the hoeing around i used to indulge in w my writing on that blog, and keep this place as sfw as i can - we’ll focus on tummy-aching angst instead! w a happy ending ofc bec ya girl is a softie 😔

leave me feedback if you like this! follow for more! (:

❧ masterlist | inbox ⁘

"Dude, this has gone so fucking soggy, it's like chewing leather. Please stop eating it."

Your words of disgust and grimace of distaste were, unsurprisingly, nothing to deter your best friend from munching on the cold fries he'd left for the last when he'd been too busy gobbling down his burgers. Stuffing a handful into his mouth like an actual ape, he in fact wiggles his eyebrows at you in a challenge.

"I feel like I've seen an orangutan eat exactly the way you just did, Choi Yeonjun. Please stop."

That makes him giggle and clear his mouth, finally raising his hands in surrender. "Kay, I give up. They do taste like leather."

"Not even gonna ask how you know that… But this is why you're supposed to have your fries with the burgers and not after it."

"But they mess up my palate!"

When he pouts like that, it's so hard for you to believe that he's the university’s senior ice hockey team’s ace, their Center, their captain, and that he’s looking to get scouted professionally, this year. When he pouts like that, he takes you back to the time you first met him on the first day of your high school, both clueless freshmen with wide, innocent eyes full of huge dreams about your future.

Dreams that you're both very, very close to making a reality, now – him as a professional hockey player, and you interning at the law firm of your dreams.

Damn. Time sure flies fast.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Yeonjun tilts his head and you blink away from your thoughts, averting your gaze from his to instead stare at his shitty, soggy fries.

“Yeah. Stupid. A lot of it.”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes and rips a tissue out of the dispenser on the table to dab around his mouth just in case, and that gives you room to breathe in and out and try to will away the heat you can feel in your cheeks.

See, now, the thing is – you don’t necessarily have romantic feelings for your platonic best friend of eight years. That’d just be absurd and kind of creepy. But you sure as heck have always harbored a crush on him.

It’s just impossible not to! 

Guy has always been literally the most gorgeous human being you’ve ever seen, even at the universally ugly age of fourteen. He’s a gentleman, always kind to every single person in his life, would probably cut a limb off for a friend in need, and ever since your sophomore year of college, he’s gotten into manically coloring his hair, which…is seriously injurious to the onlookers’ health because dear God, the dirty blonde of his hair with the dark roots peeking through from his middle part? Makes your heart literally pound.

And he isn’t even doing anything! Other than being gross with a tissue paper and inedible fries, which should absolutely turn you off from ever liking anything about him, but it does the opposite.

That is another thing about him – he’s too freaking smooth and sexy about every damn thing in his life. The day his hair turned from black to blue, nearly two years back, he developed all these flirty charms on top of his kind ones. Now he isn’t just an insanely handsome dude who’d hold your hand to help you cross the road, but he’d also freaking wink at you when you thank him for his kindness.

You as in a person, not – not you. He’d never wink at you, you're too friendzoned for that. And it's kind of a blessing because you’d probably run the risk of jumping back into oncoming traffic if he did.

Wow.

You can’t count on one hand the number of times you have had to tug on the reins of your heart when it’s tried to take a flight, jumping off the cliff of your very inconvenient crush and into the bottomless abyss of having actual romantic feelings for him. Because that would be catastrophic. And not just because you fear he'd reject you and you’d lose the one person who means the most to you in the world.

“Should I get more burgers?”

Your gaze snaps to him in surprise. He’s pouting again, this time looking at the greasy fingerprints laden menu card kept on your table. The anxiety that had started to churn in your stomach at the prospect of your very concerning crush turning into something more, suddenly leaves and you huff out a small laugh.

“You’ve had six in the past hour, Jjun. I’d say stop for the night, maybe?”

“Hey, I have a big appetite!” He scowls at you. “And it’s close to midnight, already! You know I begin my diet for the season from tomorrow!”

You groan. “Well, then, why did you ask?”

“To be encouraged, of course! To be comforted.” He widens his eyes and blinks at you. “Or did you forget I’m also supposed to be nursing a broken heart?”

The groan you release at that is loud, drawn out and filled with a year’s worth of exasperation. This is the other reason why you catching romantic feelings for him would be catastrophic. His emotional quotient is seriously questionable when it comes to the matters of heart. If he could love a partner half as much as he loves dogs, maybe he wouldn’t be ‘nursing a heartbreak’ because of the fifth person that has dumped him since your final year began. And you aren’t even done with your mid-sems yet.

But you don't tell him that, instead patting on his leather jacket clad forearm with a fake sympathetic expression. “Ah, yes, poor you. My deepest condolences to your heart.”

He knows you and your bullshit and you know he does, so the attack that his hands launch at your throat in the next two seconds doesn't surprise you, and your defensively raised shoulders don't surprise him.

You're both dissolving into giggles, then, having nothing short of a wrestling match across the small cafe table. "I really liked Lea, okay?"

"Oh yeah? You didn't even—oof, that tickles! You didn't even know she was Kai's sister!"

At that he lets go of you and slumps back in his seat with a scowl. "Please don't remind me. I still worry he's gonna stab me in my sleep someday…"

You place a palm over your mouth to stifle your laugh. "To be fair, Lea shouldn't have been indulging in puck bunny behavior if she didn't want to be treated like one."

"Don't say that wo~rd," Yeonjun whines with his whole head thrown back. "She's Kai's sister! And she's younger than me!"

"Just by four months! Stop being dramatic, Jjun. She's a junior at college – she knew what she was doing."

Yeonjun doesn't look convinced. "I mean… I don't think she was with me only because I'm hockey captain. She knows all of HK's friends personally."

You wonder why he is defending her. Did he actually, genuinely like the girl? Romantically? What are the odds of Yeonjun finally making an attempt to open his heart up to someone and them ending up dumping him? He doesn't really look that dumped, though, so you figure that this must be out of some misplaced protectiveness he feels for one of his best friend's sisters.

Man should've thought of that before he dated her. Sigh.

"Yeah, which makes it worse." You wince when he frowns. "Come on, Jjun. She's known you since middle school but decides to make a move now? Only to break it off in three weeks because others are 'slut-shaming' her”—you make air-quotes around the term, rolling your eyes—“when they call her out for wearing another guy's jersey in preseason when she's supposed to be dating you. Can't tell me that's not manipulative and experienced puck bunny behavior."

Yeonjun’s eyes are wide when you finish speaking. “What…?”

“She didn't have feelings for you, Jjun! I mean, you obviously didn't have any for her either, but I hope you keep it that way with these girls. I highly doubt Lea even tried to get to know you at all, given how busy she was posting pictures of y'all on all her socials." His expressions haven't changed much, so you try to conclude your point quickly. “All I'm saying is, it is actually a good thing you’ve never taken these relationships too seriously. There’s more business than emotion with these clout chasers, Jjun.”

Yeonjun is gaping at you now and you're a little confused as to how to take it. Is he surprised at the revelation about Lea? You doubt that to be the case when the entire tale of their romance had been broadcasted all over the campus this past week.

So then…is he surprised at your opinion of things? You sure hope he isn't about to pick a fight with you because you're in no mood to concede. Not about this. Not when you've died multiple deaths every minute that Lea has spent being a pick-me by your best friend's side.

"I… She did have feelings for me, Y/N. They—the girls that I date all have some feelings for me, come on." He gives a small chuckle that is so wry, it makes you fidget in discomfort. “I haven’t taken these relationships that casually. I'm – I’m not some vain playboy, sleeping my way around the college.”

Okay, hold on – what?

What?

How did he take that away from your rant? He's really defending himself when you never even attacked him? When you never would attack him?

"Yeonjun, no… That's not what I'm trying—"

"Let's – let's just drop this." He looks distressed, and the frown on his lips makes your heart hurt. More so because you are the one who put it there. "You won't get it, anyways."

Now that – gives you a pause. "I won't…get it?"

He gets up, unbothered and unabashed, and walks with his tray of empty wrappers and inedible fries to dump it into the trash can near the exit of the cafe. You wordlessly follow, tilting your head in an attempt to catch his eye, but Yeonjun's got some 5 inches on you so you can't really force him to look at you when he doesn't want to.

And now he's walking out of the cafeteria.

"Jjun?"

He sighs and stops, looking over his shoulder, straight into your eyes with a bored stare. "What?"

"What? You're, like, not even gonna explain that last sentence?" 

This time you're the one with the wry chuckle while Yeonjun fidgets in discomfort. 

"What won't I get, Yeonjun?"

"Look, it's… well. You’ve always subtly looked down upon all the girls I’ve dated in college, and that was fine. You’re my best friend, you’re allowed to be a critic.” He shrugs with a nonchalant look in his eyes, but his lips are still twisted sourly. “But… I never realized you thought I was the problem. Someone so vapid that my only appeal is the fame hockey gets me.”

No… literally when did you insinuate that?

You're rendered mute, taken aback by how badly Yeonjun seems to have interpreted your words. He exhales and it sounds very loaded. You don't miss the way he keeps avoiding your gaze; nor the disappointed frown that decorates his forehead.

“You won’t get it because you don’t want me, you’ve never wanted me – and that is absolutely cool! But just because you like to have me as a comedic relief character in your life doesn’t mean that no one sees any depth in me.”

“A… comedic relief character?” your voice comes out low and hoarse and almost tattered, a little shrilly from disbelief. You're not even gonna touch on his 'never wanted him' claim because the rest of his speech has your brain actually spinning. “What the hell are you talking about? This isn’t about you – it’s about these girls… You’re my best friend, Yeonjun!”

“And yet you can’t find one reason why these girls would like me beyond using me for clout.” He gives a shrug and finally meets your eyes again. But his stare is absolutely vacant and unreadable. “You don’t use me for clout, though, and yet you keep me around. You obviously don’t care about my opinions, or you wouldn't have exchanged numbers with Changbin when I told you he was bad news. What else is there to our friendship other than laughing together, then?”

His words are like death blows – each syllable laced with a different kind of poison. Every inhale you take from the air his words have contaminated seems to sear a painful path through your lungs. Breathing hurts. Looking at him hurts. Your eyes are filling up and your tummy is aching.

There’s so much wrong with everything he just said, so much misinterpretation, so many actual blatant untruths, that you don’t even know how to begin correcting them. 

How did you even get here?

You’d only been trying to warn him about girls that might use him. You were only trying to protect his heart.

How did that turn into him thinking you don’t value your friendship with him? That you don’t value him?

“Oh, and by the way,” he continues, pushing both hands into his leather jacket and looking into the distance, “Changbin’s probably gonna ask you to cheer for him this season, which is kind of a big deal because… you know, this out final session and there will be professional scouts present and all. So if you decide to say yes…” He pauses and turns to look at you again, gaze tired and eyes lidded. “If you say yes, I hope you know it’ll mean a lot more.”

Why is he bringing up Changbin again? You’d only exchanged numbers to get that guy's incessant ass off your back – you haven’t even responded to a single text he’s sent you in the past two months. Cheering for him? In a season as important to their careers as this one? 

Absolutely out of the question.

Does Yeonjun not know you at all?

You’re about to tell him that, when he suddenly pulls his phone out with a sigh. “I’m planning to hand my jersey over to Chaeyoung – you know, running for senior cheer captain? Thought I’d ask for your opinion, but… You’ve already made that pretty clear tonight.”

Angry tears blur your vision and your heart hurts as if it’s dying a slow death in your chest.

Chaeyoung, really? So he’s skipping seamlessly from Lea to Chaeyoung. 

Of course. 

Why did you even bother worrying about his heart when he clearly doesn’t even have one. How could you forget.

Maybe it’s a good thing you never let yourself fall for Yeonjun beyond a crush.

“For what it’s worth,” you finally manage to mutter, brows furrowed and gaze focused on your worn out sneakers, “I’m sorry. I was trying to look out for you, not – not hurt you. You’re the most important person in my life, Yeonjun. I could never hurt you.”

You don’t wanna wait around to hear his response, so you just wordlessly walk away. Your dorms are hardly half a mile from here; you can shut yourself in your room and sob into your pillow in less than twenty minutes from now.

The fact comforts you enough to make you walk faster.

And also helps you ignore the pain that runs across your entire body when Yeonjun doesn’t even attempt to stop you.

You haven’t checked your phone in a while now but it has to have been over six am currently because you can hear your roommate moving around. Stealthily, you pull the comforter down from your face to peer into the dark room, only to hear a loud sigh echo around the place.

“You’re seriously still up?” Yuqi’s disappointed voice calls out. “The crying sounds stopped sometime after four so I reckoned you fell asleep.”

You wince in guilt. “Fuck, Yuqi, I’m so sorry I kept you awake—”

“Woah, what?”

She turns the lights on, suddenly brightening the room. Your roommate’s dressed in her cheer outfit, probably on her way to early morning practice. She is running for captain as well and the voting concludes in five days.

Cheer captain… Chaeyoung…

You can feel another bout of tears coming on, the back of your raw eyes stinging anew. Your head is pounding like someone’s cracked your skull open, but it still doesn't hold a candle to the ache that originates from your heart and makes your entire chest cave in on itself.

“Oh my God, babe, you look worse than you sound!”

You click your tongue and rub at your eyes. “I… Ugh, it’s been a weird night, Yuqi.”

She kneels beside you on the floor, face drawn in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” You try to sit up with her help. “I guess?”

“Oh, babe…” Yuqi sits next to you and draws you in an embrace. “What happened?”

“Y–Yeonjun,” you can barely articulate his name before your throat closes up again.

“Ah, man. What’d the idiot do this time?”

Yuqi has been your roommate and your closest friend since freshman year. Needless to say, she knows all about your friendship with Yeonjun and more than a little about your crush on him. She believes he’s too oblivious and doesn’t particularly like him for that reason. More often than not, you’re batting for his defense against Yuqi.

Right now, though, you feel like you’re gonna agree with every colorful word she uses for the guy.

So you tell her exactly what happened – give her a play by play of all the words said and reactions given, receiving hisses and grunts of annoyance in response, until you mention what he said about Changbin and Yuqi breaks your narration with a gasp.

“What the fuck?”

You just sigh and shrug a shoulder. “And he’s picking Chaeyoung to to wear his jersey for the most important season of his life, so I guess it’s whatever.”

“You know, it seemed to me like he was upset and acted out defensively… which would have been okay to a certain point, a misunderstanding that could be cleared out – had he not pulled that Changbin card. Why would he ask you to go after a teammate?” Yuqi tugs at the end of her ponytail in frustration. “And Chaeyoung? Literally the enemy? Now he's just an asshole.”

That last bit makes a small chuckle tumble out of you. “How… how is she, though? As a person?”

It’s so stupid of you to still attempt to look out for Yeonjun when he just dismissed your whole friendship. But you cannot help it.

“She’s… not a bad person, to be honest. As much as it pains me to admit.” Yuqi sighs. “She’s friends with the entire cheer team, friendly with the players, never been a bully to anybody. Hence why she’s running for captain alongside me.”

Should that comfort you? You believe it should. You warned your best friend about girls that might try to use him – and Chaeyoung sounds like she might not be that kind of a person. That’s good news, right?

So why does your heart seem to ache even more?

“Everything just...hurts, Yuqi. So much.” You tip your head against her shoulder. “What do I do?”

“Admit to yourself that you don’t just have aa crush on Yeonjun, for starters?”

You turn to look at her with surprised wide eyes. “What?”

Yuqi just rolls her eyes. “Come on, Y/N. You can’t move on if you don’t admit to it first, can you?”

Move on…?

Is that what you have to do now? Maybe. 

If you want to attempt to salvage any bit of your bond with Yeonjun, it’s best if you at least get rid of the affection that permeates the boundaries of platonic friendship.

“And then maybe text Changbin back,” Yuqi continues. “He’s their goalie. I’ve talked to him a couple of times, he’s nice. Kinda cute? If nothing else, he'll help take your mind off of Yeonjun and Chaeyoung.

You just exhale a deep breath. “Maybe.”

16:37 | changbin (: congratulations to yuqi! tell her i knew she would make it :D

↪ Haha thanks! Will do!

soooo our first match’s three days away kinda wanted to ask u something before that meet me at the lockers after practice today lol?

↪ Oh it’s Monday already right? ↪ I’ll see you at the lockers, sure! ↪ How does around 7 sound?

perfect~~ just like your eyes >.<

“Ew, man, ewww…”

You press your phone to your chest with a gasp, turning to glare at Yuqi. “Hey! It’s rude to read over someone’s shoulder!”

“No, what’s ruder is you not telling me how cringey this guy is!” Yuqi is very close to rolling on the floor, and you really can’t blame her. 

You’ve been texting back and forth with this Changbin guy for over a week now. He’s definitely nice and definitely more than a little cute, Yuqi didn’t lie to you. 

But – the way this dude flirts? Good God. 

Cringe must be an understatement. You have permanent goosebumps at this point because of how often you experience full body shivers out of the absolute secondhand embarrassment he has made you live through, every single day.

On the other hand, there's been radio silence between you and… him. Your best friend. His name sends a painful pang through your chest, so you've been avoiding even thinking about him. And Changbin's been a great distraction on that front.

That is not to say it has helped any feelings to blossom in your heart for the guy. His sweet but cringey self is a friend, at best. Your heart…is obviously elsewhere.

Things became so much clearer once you let yourself think everything over without any pressure and pretense, and admit to what you feel for your best friend, like Yuqi suggested.

Turns out you were wrong, after all. You really haven't succeeded at managing to stop yourself from falling further than a harmless crush for Yeonjun, because this constant hurt that has made home in your chest ever since he stopped talking to you? The wave of gloom that overtakes you whenever you so much as think about him? Surely a lot more harmful than what a crush warrants and surely surpassing best friend territory; by a leap.

The next step was attempting to move on with the help of Changbin, but that clearly fell flat on its face.

Exhaling a tired breath, you send a blushing emoticon back to the guy, and wonder why you're responding to his flirting when you know you've already failed and this is gonna end in tragedy.

“He sends you congratulations for making captain, by the way," you inform Yuqi when she's finally stopped giggling.

“Aw, did he say that was cool? As cool as your hair, maybe?”

You just groan and roll your eyes. “I’m gonna go see him tonight. He’ll probably offer me his jersey…”

That sobers Yuqi up. “Oh. So it’s time, huh? What’re you gonna tell him?”

You give her a wry smile. “What do you think?”

Understanding flashes across her face as Yuqi pats your shoulder in comfort with a sympathetic smile. “Well… At least you tried, yeah?”

Yeah… and failed spectacularly.

And are now hopelessly in love and helplessly heartbroken.

The locker rooms are nearly empty when you get there by seven. According to Changbin's text, he'll be there in the next five minutes and you are to wait by the rows immediately opposite the entrance to the bathrooms.

For a men's locker, the place is fairly clean and pleasant smelling. 

You're in the middle of inhaling a chest full of some citrusy fragrance when the pitter-patter of a feet reaches you – and then abruptly stops. The small gasp that meets your ears before you've even fully turned around is enough for you to recognise him. 

Why're you bumping into him here of all places?

He's been a ghost around the campus, as absent from your shared classes and the cafeteria as he is from your inbox – your life. 

But here he shows up – to catch you waiting for a guy he's always warned you against and only told you to accept when he was mad at you.

You're beginning to regret this whole thing you began with Changbin even though you're here to end it tonight.

Swallowing, you swerve on your heels to come face to face with a freshly showered Yeonjun, dressed in a fluffy hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, head filling up with thoughts of burying yourself in his embrace. His hair isn't fully dried yet, with some of it sticking to his forehead, but…what draws your attention is how gaunt and tired his face looks. 

There are large purple bags beneath his eyes and permanent frown lines around his lips. You're willing to bet this is not all due to the season's stress, because the last time you saw Yeonjun with dark circles was when you came down with a bad flu in high school and were bedridden for a week. He stayed by your side the whole time, despite both your mothers warning him about catching the infection, and barely slept.

You know it's a little unfair of you to think this way when you're the one that hurt him first, even if unintentionally, but you can't help wondering whether Yeonjun would still care if you caught a flu now. Would he even bother checking up on you, now that he's made it clear that he believes you don't think much of him and your friendship.

Does he still value you and your bond, despite the conclusions he's drawn about your feelings?

"What are you… oh."

Those are his first words to you in over a week, and the absolute disappointment on his face kinda makes up for the lack of verbal cues.

Your fists tighten on your sides, hating the way his eyes fill up with nonchalance and the way his lips purse. Why's he acting like he doesn't care? He should care!

But at the same time, you don't want him to think of you even worse than he has been. So you clear your throat and try to explain, "I've… I'm gonna clear things out with Changbin. Tell him I'm not interested so that he doesn't – he doesn't hope for anything more."

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow up, setting his jaw and lowering his eyelids. "You're good at that, aren't you? Ensuring that people aren't living with false hopes?"

Hearing his voice after so long fills your heart up with an emotion you're probably too inarticulate to explain. But his words, as snidely delivered as they are, confuse you. "What…?"

Rolling his eyes as if explaining himself to you is a waste of time for him, Yeonjun waves a hand in dismissal. "Nothing at all. He'll be heartbroken, though. Was really counting on you cheering for him. Are you absolutely sure you're not interested?"

His patronizing tone is a little too much for you, and even the lower pitch of voice he's using – one that you have always secretly fawned over – isn't able to curb your frustration. "Yes, Yeonjun, I'm sure. He'll live, he'll find someone else." And because you're beginning to feel irritated and jealous, you add, "If his second choice isn't Chaeyoung, that is."

You see the way a vein pops in his forehead and a sense of satisfaction runs through you at having struck a nerve. "Oh, so you've got words to say about Chaeyoung too, then? I thought you'd let her pass because she's famous enough by herself. Cheer vice captain, and all."

He's throwing you bait to rile you up, you know that – but you can't help the fiery fury that overtakes your senses either way.

Stalking up to him, you push a finger against Yeonjun's chest and glare into his wide, surprised eyes. "If you really think she's interested in you for you, go ahead and date her. Don't goad me into giving an opinion when you won't even care about it."

He brings a large hand up to wrap around yours, holding it tight in obvious anger. "Like you care about mine?"

"I'm literally here to say no to Changbin, Jjun! What the hell is your problem?" you yell out, pushing at his chest with your free hand – but to no avail because he holds your other wrist with his other hand as well.

"My problem is that you're saying no because you think this is beneath you!" he yells back, leaning from his towering form to bring his face to the same level as yours. "You think my girlfriends, my lifestyle – everything's beneath you!"

Your mouth falls open in utter shock because once again – this was never about him! "Yeonjun – no! For the last time, no, I don't think that! I don't think you're vain or unlikable, or that anything you do is beneath me, I just – I just fear someone will break your heart if you're not careful!"

"Is that so? You're not judgemental of the girls I date? Didn't you call Lea a – a puck bunny?"

"I didn't mean it like that!" you scream back and lean towards him, leaving barely inches between both of your fuming, frowning faces. "I was just getting metaphorical and, hell, maybe I was jealous because you've never asked me to cheer for���fuck…"

Panicked, you pull away from Yeonjun's loosened grasp, looking away from his raised eyebrows and open mouth.

You did not mean to say that. Not like this, not now… maybe never.

Face heating up like a damn furnace, you stumble away from your frozen best friend in a hurry. If he thought you were sabotaging your friendship before, he's going to absolutely hate you for harboring feelings for him. It's a blatant breach of his trust.

Shit, you should've begun to distance yourself when you first felt the tender tendrils of affection for the cutest fourteen year old guy you'd ever seen. You shouldn't have let those feelings fester – you shouldn't have let them grown into this beast that now stands to swallow your years' long friendship.

Tears prick your eyes, but there's no time to mourn right now – you need to get back to your dorm and bury yourself beneath a pillow before that.

But you've barely made it to the gates to the locker room when a firm hand grips your upper arm from behind and twirls you around. Back pressing into the wall, a gasp is torn from your chest when Yeonjun's huge, twinkling eyes cage you in. His arms resting on the wall next to you are completely unnecessary; you'd stand still through an apocalypse if he pinned you with this gaze of his.

"What…what do you mean you were jealous I never asked you?" he breathlessly questions, literal stars sparkling through his dark irises at you.

Now. If you were not adept at reading your best friend like a book, maybe you would have wondered if coming clean right now would make his eyes brighter or dim them instead. Maybe you would have debated whether lying your way out of this situation and apologizing later would be a good idea. Maybe you would have ducked from under his arms and made a run for it.

But because you have known this boy for more than seven years now, have observed every single expression of happiness and excitement that his face is capable of producing, have admired how adorable hope and anticipation looks on him – because you've loved him since the time you could barely even understand what love meant…you have no reason to doubt.

"I mean I wanted you to ask me, Jjunie. I wanted to be the one that'd be by your side, wearing your jersey and cheering from the stands for you," your voice comes out as a hoarse whisper, but Yeonjun clings onto every single word, given the stutters you can hear in his breathing. "I… I wanted you to look at me when you scored, point at me and tell everyone around us that…"

Your gaze flickers down his face, running across his nose to land on his parted, plump pair of lips. They spread a little to allow an airy chuckle to pass, and then form a wispy, questioning: "That?"

He's moved incredibly close to you, nearly touching your foreheads together and leaving an inch of space between your mouths. You look up into his eyes and they are hooded, spilling happiness, adoration but also something sincere.

"That," you rasp quietly, slowly in the small space between you, "that I'm your girl."

Yeonjun's exhale of minty toothpaste breath washes over your face, forehead tipping over yours and nose sliding against yours. When he speaks next, his lips brush the corner of your mouth and your body grows taut like a bowstring, ready to snap at the barest flick of his hands.

"Are you my girl?"

His voice has gotten incredibly lower and guttural and you just bring your hands up to clench into the fabric of his hoodie to ground yourself. Your eyes slide shut against the intensity of his own, breaths coming shorter and faster.

"I'd – I'd like to be. If…you'd have me?"

"Of fuck, baby, don't you know you've always owned me?"

You barely get a moment to process the term of endearment and the acceptance, let alone the actual depth and true implication of his words, when the softest pairs of lips you have ever felt brush against yours. Tentatively, so lightly that they almost tickle. Gasping in an exhale, you part your eyelids to find Yeonjun looking at you through a similarly shuttered gaze.

"Can I kiss you?" 

Oh God, oh God, oh God—

“Yes, please.”

The words have barely exited you before Yeonjun is erasing any remaining space between you completely by pressing his mouth fully against yours. His lips feel even more softer than they look, molding against yours like a pair of clouds. Combined exhales of relief leave the two of you, breathing just as in sync as your bodies are. Your hands move from his jacket to run across his broad shoulders and your fingers wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

As if waiting for you to do just that, Yeojun guides both his hands to your waist, bringing you closer to him, before one of them detours to run past your waist and down your thigh to hook around your knee. His mouth opens against yours, then, teeth biting into the flesh of your bottom lip. With a shuddering gasp, you hold onto him tighter and allow him to lick into your mouth, lost in the taste and feel of him.

His hand grips onto your leg to lift it from the ground and wrap it around his thigh, allowing him to slot his hips against yours perfectly. You can feel yourself spiraling, unable to form coherent thoughts beyond the heady rush of electricity that zaps through you with every pull of Yeonjun's lips. When you begin to grow breathless, his lips detach from yours to slip down your chin and press against your throat.

A mixture of gasp and whine escapes you, making his grip on you tighten and his lips turn bolder in their exploration of your neck. You feel his teeth scraping over your collarbone and shivers run through you, causing your back to arch and press further into his body. He groans against your skin and runs his hand up your leg to caress the delicate skin of your thigh.

You realise this is getting kind of out of hand because you've just confessed your feelings and you're still in the damn locker room, but your eyes can't help but clench shut as your fingers tug on his silky soft hair, silently asking him to keep going. 

But Yeonjun is far more in control of the situation than you are, given the way he turns his kisses from hungry to chaste, slowly. Pressing a closed mouth peck to your cheek, he rearranges his grip on you to pick you up with his hands beneath your thighs, and carries you to a bench. He sits down and drapes your legs over his own to make you straddle him, holding you firmly but softly in place.

He plants a soft, sweet kiss to your lips and rests his forehead against yours. Your eyelids part to the blurry sight of his shining eyes. It takes you a moment to realise you have tears in your eyes – and that he does as well.

With the softest smile that you have ever seen on him, Yeonjun brings a thumb up to your face and flicks at the corner of your eye.

"I've liked you ever since high school, you know?"

Your lashes flutter in fascination. "Really? But you never… you always…"

His cheeks grow pink when you scrunch your nose up instead of finishing the sentence, and he shuts his eyes. "You just never really showed any interest… You never looked jealous or bothered by my love life."

"I was being a good friend!" You chuckle when he rolls his eyes. "Besides, I had plenty to say about the girls you dated?"

He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, still looking at you with a soft gaze, but his lips have twitched into a devastating smirk. "But you never said I could date you instead."

A blast of heat flushes your entire face at his words. Remember when you said he never flirted with you and you were grateful for that? Yeah, you still stand by that. Your heart's racing so fast, it's a wonder it hasn't malfunctioned yet. Yeonjun reads your face, too, and pecks your nose with a giggle .

"I'm so sorry it took me so long to figure it out, baby," he then whispers to you, sounding so forlorn that the sound of his voice, especially with that pet name, makes you wanna cry again. "I should've realized you were jealous…"

"I'm sorry, too, Jjun," you whisper back, hands coming up to play with the drawstrings of his hoodie that your eyes focus on as well, suddenly hesitant to meet his open gaze. "I wasn't careful about my words and hurt you. I was a bad friend."

He chuckles at that, which draws your eyes back to his own again. "To be honest, I was more hurt because your words made me conclude that you would never like me back. So you literally don't have to apologize at all."

A smile blooms on your face. "Can I kiss it better, then?"

"Oh, you can always kiss it better, baby." Teeth flashing and eyes squinting, Yeonjun nuzzles into your neck, full of giggles that you mirror as well.

Right then, a call of your name resounds across the locker rooms.

Wait…

Fuck.

Changbin!

Yeonjun's wide eyes look at you with questions. You just sigh and shrug your shoulders.

"Back here, Bin!"

"Bin?" Yeonjun raises an eyebrow with his eyes narrowed, making you stifle a giggle.

"Should I try Binnie, then?" 

He gasps in outrage, threatening to bite into your cheek, while you lean away to escape him, still suppressing your laughter.

Footsteps echo across the hall before a gasp is heard at the end of the aisle you're seated next to. Changbin stands rooted to his place, mouth agape and eyes wide. You've corrected yourself in your seat, but – your seat's still kinda Yeonjun's lap.

"I… um?"

You purse your lips in apology. "I'm sorry, Bin. I can't accept your jersey."

"I… can see that, I guess…"

To his credit, Changbin doesn't look a lot upset. Just very confused. You decide to try and help him.

"I can, however, get you Song Yuqi's number if you want?"

Instant fireworks explode in his eyes. "What? The – the cheer captain, Song Yuqi?"

"Mm hm. Cheer captain, my friend, my roommate. You know, the one."

"Wow, Y/N, that'd be so cool, man! Thank you!"

And then Changbin's hopping his way out of there without another word. Yeonjun breaks into laughter the moment he's out of sight.

"Poor guy kept asking me if it was okay to approach you and I kept saying we're just friends. He must be so confused, right now…"

You look at the boy who's still cradling you in his lap. "So. We're not just friends anymore, I hope."

He tightens his grip around your waist, eyes doing that thing where they switch from being rounded to suddenly narrowed and intense. "That depends. Do you kiss your just friends like that?"

You nudge his nose with your own, heart thumping at the intensity of his dark eyes and the reality of your changing dynamics with him. "Only the ones I intend to do more with."

Yeonjun's eyes widen in surprise and then narrow further with mischief. "Is that so, baby? Well, how about I take you to a nice dinner date tonight and then we can discuss what more can happen later, hm?"

"I'd like that very, very much." Swallowing past the lump of emotions that suddenly lodges in your throat, you bite your bottom lip and smile. 

He smiles back, but then brings a thumb up to tug your lip free. "Don't bite your lip, baby. You've got me to do that for you, now."

And then he kisses you again.

© yeonboy 2023 // do not steal, copy or repost. respect your local content creators, kaythanks.

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Seahorse general info because my love-

Names Kaimana courtesy of a lovely anon.

A lonely sea dweller in dire need of companionship and a big family to make him whole. Inhibiting an island in the general region of several human beaches, Kai fell in love with the idea of human family life and the domestic bliss shared between parents during his many travels.

• A caretaker, and a provider. Kaimana's heart swells with pride whenever he catches fish for his pearl. He'll likely be the one doing the heavy lifting when it comes around to you having children, but that doesn't mean there shouldn't be any catering on your end. Steals whatever else you may need from the beaches and parks, and does what he can to make the island a home for you. Picks up a nice tent for you to sleep in, and leaves a cooler full of snacks to trap welcome you in.

• While most of his trips are for you, Kaimana nabs a few things for himself from time to time - mostly to make himself look presentable to you. Nearly drowned a swimmer just to get that pretty, floral bikini top they wore and breaks the teeth off the combs he snatches every other day from how frequently he detangles his mane. Waits for people to come back for dolls they left on the beach and if nobody returns he gives them a new home as his practice babes. Adopts all - but only takes one that resemble you in ways of eyes, tone, or hair color after he chooses you as his mate

• Works at a bar at one of the beaches just to mingle, and later spy/learn more info on his love from the inside. Long as he's completely dry he looks like your average Joe for the most part say for his fins and body markings which he can cover up well with a shirt and a few little white lies. "Skin condition!... tattoos, actually... bit of both?..."

Sits behind the counter and twirls his hair as he watches you sip the drink he made you - deciding if he's brave enough to chat you up or content with watching from afar. Keeps a straw in the dispenser that's a different color from the rest - so the indirect kiss he planted isn't stolen by any else. Kissing before your first date together may be bolder than what he'd personally deem appropriate, but you have such chemistry that from one look at you he wanted to toss you up on the counter and celebrate your honeymoon a few months early right in front of the crowd. The bar allows workers to wear swimsuits, but he keeps things professional.... till you walk in the door. Steals makeup and tape just to be able to work shirtless when you're around without anyone pointing out his fins. Offers other services as well such as rubbing you down with sunscreen- and being a babysitter for your kids. It's not really babysitting if they're his too, but deserve your peace for your future as a wonderful spouse and parent

[randomlifex]

Sunshine and storm

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ‘♡’- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Go Kyungjun x fem!reader

Plot:the sun shines and the storm doesn’t understand why he likes it, but when his clouds will cover her rays, he’ll do anything to make the sun shine again

Warnings:bad language

Please notice:in this timeline Seun hasn’t died yet so there’s no game going on

This story is a request

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ‘♡’- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The spring weather was approaching, the temperature rose and birds had finally begun to sing all day long.

“What a great day! -you exclaimed, hugging Seun, your friend- and in a few weeks cherry flowers will blossom! Finally my favourite colour will be everywhere again!” you clapped

Seun smiled, putting her book on the desk, then she watched as you sat next to her:

“How can you be always in such a good mood?” she asked

“How can you not be when it’s spring! It’s the season of blooming. Birds sing all day and animals come out from their hibernation”

“You make me nauseous” Kyungjun popped out from nowhere,sitting with Seungbin right behind you. You rolled your eyes hopelessly:knowing how he was, you didn’t expect him to appreciate the cute little things of life

“Man you gotta smile more, you’re always so angry. The situation is getting serious” you mumbled as the teacher came in

“You don’t wanna see me angry, do you, Snow white?” he hit the back of your head with a pen, making you groan in pain, then he shifted into the “I don’t care about the lesson” mood,texting…or at least that was what you thought.

The truth was that Kyungjun spent the whole class staring at you. He had been doing so a lot in the past weeks, shifting his eyes away only when you noticed it. He didn’t know why, but there was something leading him to you, even if he hated it, and acted like the meanest person on earth (not that he was nice, but he had never put you into troubles).

He wasn’t used to it, nor to your constant happy mood; and since those feelings were unknown to him he would find any reason to come for you, even when you were doing nothing besides being a nice teammate.

That day your team had been pretty unlucky:the teacher had decided the members on her own, meaning that if you had to play with good athletes like Hyunho and Kyungjun himself, who was the captain, you had to put up also with those, like Sungpyo and Yoonseo, who were terrible at PE.

She got called out lots of times by everyone, but to Kyungjun the real problem was Sungpyo; or better, he was the victim whose ass was supposed to be constantly beaten in order to scare everyone and get great results.

Hyunho tried many times to stop the bully, but he eventually got kicked out due to a so called “litigious behaviour” ; so, in order to calm everyone down, you tried to spread positivity, like you always used to do.

“It’s okay, next time we’ll score something”

“It can happen, I made mistakes too”

“Don’t think about it and let’s have fun! It’s about having a good time, not winning”

You were dispensing smiles and comfort as you saw that someone was actually on the edge of tears, but Kyungjun got even more mad:

“Ya! Yn! -he called you in the middle of the first break- what the fuck are you doing?!” he was yelling, his eyes burning like fire

“What…what do you mean?” You asked, a little bit scared

“What do I mean? Do you think that’s how you make a shitty team work?!”

“I’m just trying to be positive…they’re all stressed out…” you justified yourself

“Really? -he laughed- are you fucking kidding me?! “Trying to be positive”…bullshit. Do you know what you can do with your stupid positivity? Go home and stay there. Idiot” he scoffed

“But…”

“No buts. You’re getting on my nerves. What’s so funny to be constantly smiling and laughing? Uh? Come on tell me! Be serious for once, and let the captain be the captain. Go to the back lines, you suck anyway in the front” he shrugged his shoulders, pointing to the back of the field.

You looked around you, realising that everyone was staring, the your eyes rested on Kyungjun:

“You know what? -you were holding your tears back- fuck you and this stupid game! Get a new player to cover your shitty back lines. Asshole!” you yelled, running away to hide in the first empty classroom you had found.

Kyungjung looked at you:something inside him shattered as soon as he realised you were terribly hurt. “Did I…did I cover the sunshine with my clouds?” he asked himself, feeling guilty as hell.

You spent the whole lesson crying in a corner of the room, next to the blackboard, suffocating your sobs in order to not be found by anyone. You didn’t want people to see you in those conditions, you had promised yourself to be always happy to make everyone around you happy as well. Your friends used to call you “sunshine” for a reason, and you loved it, just like you loved keeping up your good mood. Why Kyungjun had to ruin everything? You hated him. He was always so mad, so mumbling, so rude…was it so hard for him to relax at least once? And if it was, who allowed him to ruin everyone’s mood? No one!

The more you thought about it, the more you felt sad. You kept seeing his angry face, and his yells wouldn’t stop resonating in your mind. You brought your knees to your chest, hiding your face in the cloth of your tracksuit…until you heard someone.

A hand rested on your leg, squeezing it. You rose your head, seeing Kyungjun kneeling in front of you.

“Go away” you scoffed

“You need to see something”

“I don’t want to. Leave me alone”

“It’s urgent. Come on” he grabbed your arm, forcing you to follow him to the backyard.

“I swear to God if it’s something stupid…” you weren’t even able to finish the phrase as wonder got your mouth to open wide

“You tell me if that’s something stupid to you” Kyungjun said, carelessly.

You didn’t know what to answer, you were too busy staring at the flowering cherry blossom in front of you…the first of the season.

“When did you find it?” you asked, grabbing the boy’s arm

“Yesterday, during the break”

“Why didn’t you show it to me?!” sadness had already left your body. It took nothing to make you happy, Kyungjun thought, but he was okay with that. He didn’t want to see you crying ever again.

“I wanted to, but I forgot. That’s just a stupid tree after all…” he shrugged his shoulders, hiding a smile

“That’s not! -you started jumping- that’s the first cherry blossom of the season!!” you then exclaimed, taking a bunch of pictures.

“You good now?” he asked, still cold. His facade was hard to fall.

“What do you mean?” you blinked

“Are you okay now? You were crying…”

“Yes, I cried cuz you’re a rude asshole” you crossed your arms, giving him your back.

Kyungjun stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder:

“I crossed the line…” he talked

For a second you were surprised…was he apologising for the first time in his life?!

“But you got me angry there. Don’t do that again” he scoffed, letting you go with a path on the shoulder.

Of course he wasn’t, not openly, not that time, but you knew his intentions when he showed you that tree:he was aware of the fact that he had fucked up, and was trying to fix things in his own way.

“I did not made you angry…you were born angry” you said, sticking your tongue out.

Kyungjun didn’t reply, he simply put his hands in his pockets and walked away; but, once again, he was smiling behind your back.

[petalruesimblr]

Doo Peas Business Plaza

Sim File Share

Welcome to Doo Peas Business Plaza, where high finance meets high drama! This is the bustling epicenter of commerce and media from a bank that's always open for business to a buzzing hub of offices for the business and journalism careers. With sleek lines and sharp angles, it's not just a place to earn and report—it's a place where success and stories come to life. So, whether you’re here to count your Simoleons or scoop the latest scoop, Doo Peas Business Plaza has got you covered!

Price: 195,447 Lot Size: 30x30 Lot Type: No Visitors Allowed Store Content: Click here CC Used: Click here File Type: Package Min. Required Game Version: 1.42 Packs Needed: The Sims 3, Pets (door and buydebug object), Late Night (elevator, door, floor tile, buydebug object and food truck), Generations (spiral stairs), Ambitions (wallpaper, tree and door)

Hello and welcome back to my blog! I haven’t posted in a while because I was sick these past few days and decided to take a short break to recuperate.

Anyways, this lot is a custom building for the Business and Journalism rabbit hole with an added Bank next to it.

Click on the ’Keep Reading’ below for more information and pictures on this lot.

The buildings are not empty; expect a lot of clutter as well as objects required to advance in the Business and Journalism careers, especially for those who use the Ultimate Careers mod by Zerbu or the Ultimate Careers Updated by SonyaYU.

You can either use the bank with the Tax Collector mod to collect taxes in your town and replace the computers from Ani's mod (get it here) or you can use the Banking Career, a custom career by MissyHissy here.

I’ve included two types of printers for this lot, but they are only decor. If you prefer to replace them with functional objects, you can use the Functioning Printer Mod by phoebejaysims (here) or a recent printer (here).

You might notice that some of the screenshots I took look different from the building itself. This is because I made a few minor changes after the screenshots were taken, such as updating the wallpaper at the back of the bank building, which I noticed too late and correcting the direction of the stairs that were facing the wrong way during testing.

For the Money Dispenser, I know that some of you might not be able to download it as it is a donator CC by ATS3. You can either replace it with another décor item (here) or use a functional ATM by using the Social Clubs mod by phoebejaysims. Just be aware that the décor item has a high polycount; check the details before downloading.

📣Please note that the store content and CC included in the lot are not included on the download file. I’ve compiled a list for those interested in downloading them separately (please click the links above or go to WCIF Navigation page) but those are not required and will be automatically replaced in the game. The expansion packs listed above are required due to the build items used in the lot as stated in the Details section above.

This lot has been play-tested and let me know if you experience any problems on your end!

[saltsicklover]

Prompt Request: Sneak Peak

Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Read the Complete Story HERE

I got sent this amazing ask and I got started working on it before life decided to become ridiculous and get in the way off all of my writing time. So, I wanted to post a little sneak peak of it, as it is still in progress.

I hope you like it, @inkandarsenic !

"Is your father planning on coming to your graduation?" The question is so simple, the next plausible question after toasting to her Mother's life. Monsoon bristles at the question, her expression becoming impossibly more tight, pinched.

"He's uhm," The foam in the bottom of Monsoon's glass is the most interesting thing in the room. Tears are flooding her eyes again, and she's turning back to the shitty bar napkins in the even shittier dispenser. Cyclone knows his question hit a nerve based on how she is frantically pulling napkin after napkin out of the dispenser; and the Admiral's guilt swims to the surface. He is sure that the horizon of it can be seen in his iris's, if Monsoon were to look past the evident sadness that has made a home there. He's pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, blue in color and perfectly folded. He offers it to her and it's taken with a slightly shaky hand. 

"M.I.A. or AWOL?" Cyclone asks. There's a bit of humor to his question that neither of them comment on. 

"He went AWOL when I was seven," She doesn't take her eyes off the popping foam in the bottom of her glass, "Then I suppose he went M.I.A. three years later, when he stopped sending birthday cards," 

Cyclone hates the way her shrugs are all noncommittal and vaguely unbothered. He would have killed for a chance to raise his child, hell, he would move the Earth if that meant he even had a chance to do something. The fact that a man would walk out on his family, on his own child, it makes him sick. There is still something else Monsoon isn't saying; the way she chuckles is almost wax poetic with the way she rolls her eyes. Cyclone raises an eyebrow at her as he gestures to the bartended for two more on tap. 

"I was in Admiral Kazansky's office today," She chuckles again, eyes glassy and unfocused. Cyclone slides the new beer over to her. He brings his up to his lips as she breathes deeply, trying to order the words together in her head, words she can't believe she is about to say out loud. 

"There's a fucking picture of my father on his desk," Then she is downing the beer in quick, deep gulps. It's half gone before she sets it back down. Cyclone's brain is working on overdrive, swerving the hazy clouds of intoxication, searching for the mental picture of the Admiral's desk. Monsoon is chuckling in quiet disbelief, picturing the damn photo on his desk, her father and the Admiral shaking hands during their time at Top Gun. It makes her sick, really, but she doesn't need to say it based on the way her face feels, all contorted and ugly.

[miaisocool]

Succession in the city

Daemon Targaryen Business man! × College student reader!

Summary: You’re a college student working on the project for your business/finance class which was last minute until a random man comes up to you saying he could guide you in the world of business. Will you ever be able to keep up with the frantic pace of your potential marketing career?

chapter one: | chapter two: Echoes of silence

A NOTE!: this will have multiple chapters soon.

As you step out of the Uber that you had ordered an hour ago, you feel the crisp, cool air of the Los Angeles night settling on your face your clothes still warm from the air of the car. You take a deep breathe taking in the the faint aroma of coffee beans and pine scent coming from the coffee shop feeling a slight chill seep into your bones as you still were getting used to the life of living in Los Angeles it was all new to you, you only had moved here to pursue a career in finances it wasn't all that different from New York it still had the same aura, the aura of success. People wearing expensive suits and mostly designer brands that you weren't used to as you were still trying to achieve that level of succession, you were trying to relax after the stressful moments before. The car had been delayed due to traffic, which had only added to your stress and made you more impatient. You can hear the sounds of horns honking, people muttering, and shoes clacking against the pavement as the wind blew past you it complimented the strong smell still coming from the coffee shop the uber had dropped you off at. You decided it was a good environment for you to work on your marketing project for it was a group of four people each but out of the four, you were the one putting in the most effort since you were committed to finding a spot in the richness of just having luxury in your life like everyone else.. or even just a career, something.. anything! to make a living and be wealthy. Thats the only reason you had put your mind to this to this marketing project more than anybody else, your professor assigned it to you knowing you had the effort but not the time. He challenged you with projects like these as he had this vision of what you were bound to be after college. A successful business woman..

A successful business woman

A successful business woman

Were you really bound to be a successful business woman or was it the pressure you felt to not just succeed but do something useful with your life and try to live up to not only society's but also your family's and professors expectations and not end up living a mediocre life? Your mind boggled with the future as you always lived up to the quote of "living life to the fullest" but ever since you left the carelessness mindset life in new york to pursue going to UCLA you've been putting more effort into school than you had ever did in your 20 years of living.. you felt like it was your duty to make something of yourself. Despite your doubts.

The next few years were going to be crucial in shaping your future, and you were determined to make every moment count.

You enter the coffee shop as you scanned for a place to sit most of the tables were occupied and the ones in the back were mostly empty the smell of baked pastries filling your sense of smell as you looked around the room noticing the way the coffee shop was set up with coffee machines, water glass dispensers, and a bakery case with curved glass displaying the seasonal foods for the winter as you scanned the room for a place to sit you see a table near the bathroom that looked vacant so you walked towards to it with your heels clacking against the wooden floor, the dim light complimenting the vibrant and colorful decorations that were on the wall the playlist of music and chatter in the background complimented the comforting vibe the coffee shop had. As you took a seat and placed your bag on the chair beside you, and the weight lifted off your shoulders as you let out a sigh of relief. You were here to focus on your work and the calming atmosphere made it easier to focus, you insert your headphones as you turn on your phone and play some music from your normal playlist you've had ever since you started college slowly fading out the noise of people chattering and the music coming from the speakers of the shop. You reach for your bag slowly pulling out your computer which always felt unusually heavy. With a deep breath, you start the computer, holding your breath as you wait for it to boot up. Finally, you see the home screen, and with a sigh of relief,  you click on your notepad writing down ideas for what your marketing project should be about with each key you hit effortlessly with your fingers you slowly sink into a zone of satisfaction and comfort feeling full of focus as if the people in the coffee shop fade away and you were the only one there.....

Half a hour of nothing but faded music and keys being pressed passes by and you slowly start to tense up not feeling as confident as you did when you first took a step into the coffee shop slowly rubbing your fingers against the temples of your forehead and letting out a heavy sigh as you looked up into the atmosphere there was still people sipping on coffee, conversing, working on papers or just relaxing you envied how calm they looked as your work had started to tense you up. Slowly your nerves kick in as a sense of doubt starts to enter your mind as you work on the project. A knot in your throat tangling up the words you wanted to put into your project and your palms start to sweat

A tall lean man dressed in a clean and expensive looking suit that defined his toned build and his sharp bone structure. The suit was made of black satin fabric, and was tailored to fit the mans toned frame perfectly, It had a sleek and modern style look to it which made him stand out from the other business men that had approached you during your time in Los Angeles you always couldn't help but ignore or either act interested in whatever business topic they talked to you about as they felt like the business industry was mostly dominated by men. Whenever conversing with them all you could do was nod your head and agree with anything they said even though your mind was blank and filled with thoughts of just wanting to leave the conversation with no judgement and fear Although, you couldn't do that your curiosity was still peaked by people who ran in the business field and you felt as if listening to them talk would benefit you as a business student but it didn't and it never will. The man stood tall as he towered over you, His facial features were sharp and strong his a jaw that looked like it was carved from marble a aquiline nose... and piercing emerald green eyes were what stood out most about him which was what first caught your attention before his actual approach to you did. His nose was strong and prominent, with a slight upturn at the end. Each strand of his brown hair is perfectly styled, with not a single strand out of place which was what brought out something about him. The man's presence was commanding. He radiated a sense of professionalism and efficiency that seemed to surround him like a mantle. His body language was precise and controlled, as if he knew exactly what he was doing at all times his presence just blocked out everyone in the coffee shop from your mind

You finally glance into his eyes that seemed like they were piercing into your soul as if you were being torn up and shredded to pieces by his presence his gaze felt like he could already see every thought or secret that you kept to yourself You feel vulnerable and exposed in a way that makes you feel naked. Yet, despite the discomfort, you also feel drawn to him, as if there's something about his presence that speaks to you. You take a deep breath and try to steel yourself for what you're about to say. The man's piercing gaze is almost too much to bear, but you force yourself to push through it.

You can feel his eyes locked on you, watching every move you make, and you can't help but feel vulnerable and exposed. Despite the nerves, you manage to push through, and finally get your question out.

"Do you need anything?"

Your question comes out in a bit of a weak, anxious, whisper you still felt vulnerable under his gaze as you anticipated for his reply The man reaches into his suit pocket, pulling out a small, glossy card that shines in the light from the coffee shop's window. "Here," he says, passing it to you. The card is perfectly folded and crisp, not a crease or wrinkle to be seen. As you take the card in your hand, you can feel an almost electric energy coming off of it, as if it were more than just a simple piece of paper. You look at it closely, seeing the man's name and information printed on the front which says

DAEMON TARGARYEN

TARGARYEN LAW AND ASSOCIATES - BUSINESS LAW

As you read the card you looked gawked back into the mans green emerald piercing eyes still taking in all of his features to his perfect untouched suit, brown slicked back hair-

"If you ever want some help with your business just give me a call."

The coffee shops light complimented the card that was in bone material and in a font that you had noticed from the previous writing you usually used when working on your marketing projects which was Romalian Type

Every movement seemed practiced and intentional, as if he had spent years perfecting his deportment and mannerisms. His voice was deep and clear, carrying a weight of experience and knowledge that made it clear he knew what he was talking about.

He takes a sip from his plastic cup, the clicking of the lid against his teeth echoing clearly in the somewhat quiet coffee shop it had only been two hours ever since you stepped foot in the shop. As he pushes the door open with the pad of his hand, you can almost see him strut in confidence as if he carries this sort of successive aura about him you gaze at his figure slowly savoring the moment, And then he's gone, disappearing into the hustle and bustle of the city outside, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the lingering scent of his expensive cologne. The man was clearly powerful and successful, yet there was something about him that left you feeling a mix of admiration and unease, as if whatever secrets he held were just out of reach. And you can't help but think that you may never know what truly lay behind that expensive suit and piercing eyes.

☆

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[scotianostra]

January 8th 1697 Edinburgh student Thomas Aikenhead was executed in Edinburgh.

This is a cracking, if sad tale, and shows you how religious beliefs can be a blight on our history.

So who was oor Thomas, a villain?, a murderer?, a smuggler?, or some enemy of the state? No Thomas’s crime was blasphemy who took the lord’s name in vain…….this would be comic if it wasn’t for the tragic fact that he was executed, unlike the man in Life of Brian, who uttered the words Jehova, Thomas complained that he wished he was warming himself in hell rather than that chilly night walking past the recently built Tron Kirk on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile. Well that’s the simple story that the tour guides that take you round the Old Town will tell you, there is a bit more to it so I will bore you with a bit more of the detail. Thomas Aikenhead came from a well-to-do family in Edinburgh, his father being listed as a surgeon but more probably an apothecary, a dispenser of herbs and potions. Both his parents were dead by the time he became a student at Edinburgh University at the age of 16 or 17.

His mother had been a daughter of the manse, and you would think that would have made Aikenhead wary of challenging the established religion of the time, namely the all-powerful Church of Scotland, especially while still a student and under the constant gaze of professors, lecturers and, as it turned out, his fellow students.

These were the dying days of a curious period in Scottish history. Aikenhead would have been four when the ‘Wizard of the West Bow’ Major Thomas Weir was executed in 1670. Our own ghost hunter-member Leonard Low mentioned him in a comment already today. Weir was by day an extreme Calvinist but by night an incestuous Satanist and it takes no great leap of reason to see that an impressionable young boy might well have been affected by the trial and execution of a local celebrity that lived not far from him.

The 1680s was also the ‘killing time’ for the Covenanters when many died because of they worshipped their same god in differing ways!

Thomas was a keen student and an avid reader, he may or may not have known and Edinburgh bookseller, John Frazer, who had been prosecuted after admitting either reading, or being in possession of Charles Blount’s Oracles of Reason a book I know nothing about but gather it relates to Deism, which questioned the existence or more importanyly, non-existence of God or Satan, Frazer had repented ad as it was a first offence was sackclothed and jailed in the old Tolbooth for a number of months.

Anyway, Thomas had a friend, well he thought he had a friend, Murdo Craig, but Murdo, on the sly had been keeping notes on Aitkenhead, and his dalliances with blasphemous ideals, we know that because they formed a large part of the indictment against Aikenhead.

“Nevertheless it is of verity, that you Thomas Aikenhead, shakeing off all fear of God and regaird to his majesties lawes, have now for more than a twelvemoneth by past, and upon severall of the dayes within the said space, and ane or other of the same, made it as it were your endeavour and work in severall compainies to vent your wicked blasphemies against God and our Saviour Jesus Christ, and against the holy Scriptures, and all revealled religione, in soe far as upon ane or other of the dayes forsaid, you said and affirmed, that divinity or the doctrine of theologie was a rapsidie of faigned and ill-invented nonsense, patched up partly of the morall doctrine of philosophers, and pairtly of poeticall fictions and extravagant chimeras, or words to this effect or purpose, with severall other such reproachfull expressions.”

That was just for starters. Sir James Stewart of Goodtrees, the Lord Advocate of the day, had taken a personal interest in the case and he decided to throw the whole lot of Craig’s testimony at Aikenhead who was arrested in November, 1696, and charged under the Blasphemy Act of 1661 which carried the death penalty. He also charged Aikenhead under a more recent act, which made it a criminal offence to ‘deny, impugn or quarrel’ about the existence of God.The prosecution papers go on to record

“You have lykwayes in discourse preferred Mahomet to the blessed Jesus, and you have said that you hoped to see Christianity greatly weakened, and that you are confident that in a short tyme it will be utterly extirpate.”

For Mahomet, read Muhammad, could young Thomas be an Islam convert in 17th century Edinburgh, I very much doubt it, they just needed to make an example of the young student, and he knew by now that he was in very great trouble and protested in effect that he was guilty only of the sin of being youthful and had been led astray by the books he had read. He claimed to have repented of his anti-Christian beliefs and was once again a good Presbyterian. In this way he seems to have thrown himself upon the mercy of the court, but there was no mercy. On Christmas Eve, 1696, a jury found him guilty. Sir James Stewart asked for the death penalty and it was granted and “pronounced for doom,” as Scottish judges were still saying well into the 20th century in capital punishment cases. Aikenhead pleaded for his life to the Privy Council emphasising his youth, his dire circumstances, and the fact that he was reconciled to the Protestant religion. There was some support for the death sentence to be commuted from at least two councillors and two Church of Scotland ministers, but the General Assembly of the Kirk intervened, demanding that Aikenhead suffer

“vigorous execution to curb the abounding of impiety and profanity in this land”.

In his last letter to friends, written in the Tolbooth prison in Edinburgh as he awaited execution, Aikenhead at last gave a plausible explanation for his conduct – that he had been a disappointed seeker after truth. He wrote:

“It is a principle innate and co-natural to every man to have an insatiable inclination to the truth and to seek for it as for hid treasure. So I proceeded until the more I thought thereon, the further I was from finding the verity I desired.” In truth, in a repressed society the student had just gone too far in rejecting the doctrines of Christianity calling it “feigned and ill-invented nonsense”

Aikenhead went to his death on January 8, 1697, hanged on the scaffold at Shrubhill between Edinburgh and Leith. It is said that before he died he proclaimed that moral laws were the work of governments and men. In his hand as the noose was plced around his neck was the Holy Bible. The execution angered many people for many years afterwards. The great English historian Thomas Babington Macaulay wrote an account of the hanging and called the execution “a crime such has never since polluted the island.”He continued: “The preachers who were the boy’s murderers crowded round him at the gallows, and, while he was struggling in the last agony, insulted Heaven with prayers more blasphemous than any thing that he had ever uttered.”

There was other evidence of church authorities being present as Aikenhead died. He was the last man in Britain to be hanged for blasphemy.

According to Arthur Herman in his book “How the Scots Invented the Modern World: The True Story of How Western Europe’s Poorest Nation Created Our World and Everything in It”, the execution of Aikenhead was “the last hurrah of Scotland’s Calvinist ayatollahs” before the dawning of the age of reason in the Enlightenment.

Now we can all rejoice in The Enlightenment but a full 30 years later in the small town of Dornoch in Sutherland, Janet Horne was put on trial for the “crime” of having a daughter whose feet and hands were misshapen and who had herself given birth to a son with disabilities. She was the last woman in Britain to be burned at the stake for being a witch, her death bringing to an end the “burning time” when perhaps 4000 Scottish women were executed for the crime of witchcraft.

I thought I would add a wee bit more about Shrubhill in Leith, as most of us usually only regard Edinburgh’s Old Town, The Tolbooth, and Grassmarket as sites where executions took place. I can’t find out why Aikenhead was taken to, at what at the time, was a different town for his executions I did however find records of several taking place at the site, now student accommodation, but the site of Edinburgh's tram workshops and powerstation, but beforehand not many know that it was the site of he gibbet known as the Gallow Lee, literally the “field with the gallows”,

Bodies were buried at the base of the gallows or their ashes scattered if burnt. The most famous of those that met their end here was perhaps Major Weir, the Wizard of the West Bow.

1570- Two criminals strangled and burned to death.

1570 (4 October)- Rev. John Kelloe minister of Spott, East Lothian (near Dunbar) strangled and burnt for the murder of his wife

1664- Nine "witches" strangled and burnt

1670- Major Thomas Weir, the self-confessed warlock, strangled and burnt for witchcraft (almost the only self-confessed witch executed).

1678- Five "witches" strangled and burnt

1680- Part of the body of Covenanter David Hackston was hung in chains after his execution at the mercat cross in Edinburgh for the murder of Archbishop Sharp in 1679.

1681 (10 October)- Covenanters Garnock, Foreman, Russel, Ferrie and Stewart hanged and beheaded. Their headless bodies were buried at the site and their heads placed on the Cowgate Port at the foot of the Pleasance. Friends reburied the bodies in the graveyard of the West Kirk (St. Cuthberts). The heads were retrieved, placed in a box and then buried in garden ground at Lauriston. They lay there until 7 October 1726 when the then owner, Mr Shaw, had them exhumed and reburied near the Martyrs’ Monument in Greyfriars Kirkyard.

1697 (8 January)- Thomas Aikenhead, a 19-year-old theology student at Edinburgh University became the last person to be executed under Scotland’s blasphemy laws (and the last in Britain to be executed for that crime).

1752 (10 January)- Norman Ross, a footman, hanged for the murder of Lady Baillie, sister of Home, Laird of Wedderburn. The body was left to hang in a gibbet cage “for many a year” and became a local ghoulish tourist attraction.

Shrubhill House sits on the site now and houses up to 260 students, I wonder how many know of it's past?

Post mid 18th Century the Nor’ Loch was drained and the city expanded to the north by the building of the New Town with stone quarried from nearby Craigleith quarry. In such building sand was needed to add to the lime mortar and Gallow Lee proved to be just what was needed. The owner of Gallow Lee charged the builders to cart away the sand, containing the ashes and other remains of thousands of victims.

[ugotnojamzzz]

Rulers of Ruin

Chapter 6

Genre: Mafia!au , Slowburn, Angst, Hurt, eventual smut, TW (it is a mafia!AU, after all)

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: There will come a day when I will sit down and write an alluring synopsis for this series. But that day hasn't come just yet lol. Stay tuned for more chapters to come.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language. Also, don’t come for me over the theme, people. It’s an Alternate Universe, which means the bangtan boys are essentially what I like to call meat puppets to serve the storyline. This is obviously not a projection of their actual real-life personas.

Wordcount: 1.7k

Masterlist

Chapter 5

After her altercation with Jimin, YN’s frustration only grew stronger. For someone who supposedly played an important role in the upcoming feud, she’d never felt more sidelined. Always kept outside of the loop.

She found herself more restless and defiant than ever. Taking advantage of Taehyung’s occasionally distracted nature, she spent the following week slipping out of his line of sight every chance she got, exploiting the slightest opportunity to explore—or test—the limits of her captivity.

One evening, as she was escorted to the mansion's library for a new book to distract her from her boredom, Taehyung's attention was momentarily captured by a conversation with another agent, a young woman whose laughter seemed to echo distractingly down the dark hallway. Seizing the moment, Y/N discreetly slipped away, her steps silent on the plush carpet.

She wandered down the corridor, not expecting much, really. Only she stopped dead in her tracks, her ears picking up the muffled tones of a serious conversation seeping through the thick door of an adjacent parlor. Her curiosity piqued, she pressed closer.

"…seems they’re gearing up for war," She recognized Namjoon’s distinctive baritone, “We may need additional eyes out there soon."

“Maybe Hoseok?” another voice spoke, “"He's returning soon with Kookie, right?"

"Stop that,” Namjoon chided, his voice sharp, “you know he hates that nickname."

“Aish, you don’t need to fight his battles,” the voice said, “if your father was here-“

Her heart thudded with the thrill of the forbidden knowledge just within her grasp. She leaned in, straining to catch more.

“While on the topic of my father,” Namjoon’s voice grew tenser, “any updates?”

“He’s alright, for now,” the voice spoke, “but…”

Y/N's mind raced. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the conversation inside had ceased until the door suddenly swung open.

Namjoon’s piercing gaze met hers immediately, a frown creasing his brow. Behind him, YN recognized Seokjin standing in his white blouse, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Y/N," Namjoon's voice was a blend of disappointment and irritation. "Spying requires guile and vigilance," he paused, “it appears you’re lacking both.”

Her response came quick, tinged with defiance. "Maybe I need some lessons from your agents," she retorted sharply, her voice echoing slightly in the spacious hallway, “they’re clearly doing such a good job at keeping track of me.”

He chuckled dryly, not out of amusement but as a prelude to a sharper critique. "Watch your attitude,” he shot back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed her, “it’s unbecoming."

She exhaled a frustrated sigh, feeling cornered yet defiant. "I've been kept in the dark for two weeks, Namjoon.” Her voice rose, a clear note of irritation threading through her words, “How long do you expect me to sit around waiting for you to decide my fate?"

Namjoon stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soft click. "Information is dispensed on a need-to-know basis," he stated firmly, approaching her. "And right now, you don’t need to know anything."

Y/N bristled at the dismissal, her anger flaring. "So, what do I need, then? More guards? An ankle bracelet, perhaps? Shall we test how tight this leash can get?"

Before he could respond, rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway. Taehyung appeared, breathing heavily, his usual composed demeanor unraveled by exertion. "Sorry, Boss—I lost sight of her for just a minute," he panted, casting a wary glance at Y/N.

Namjoon’s eyes flicked between Y/N and Taehyung, his displeasure evident. "Ensure it doesn’t happen again," he warned, then turned back to Y/N. "As for you, try to remember your place. If you keep this up, I won’t hesitate to make your conditions less... comfortable.” His threat hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the power he wielded. “Or perhaps I’ll simply ship you back to your brother, see if you prefer what he’s got in store for you.”

Before YN could utter a response, the broad-shouldered leader went back in the parlour, firlmy shutting the door behind him.

YN's anger boiled over as she stormed off, her heels clicking angrily against the marble floors. Behind her, Taehyung hurried to keep up, his own frustration mirroring hers but tinged with resignation. "Come on, don't do this," he called out, his voice barely cutting through her tirade.

"This is all ridiculous!” YN shouted back over her shoulder, her words sharp as daggers. “Complete, utter bullshit!" The cool night air did nothing to temper her heated words as she burst through the double doors into the garden.

She stomped outside still ranting to herself.

Taehyung sighed, dodging low-hanging branches as he tried to keep up with her brisk pace. "Ranting isn’t going to change anything," he called out, his voice barely cutting through the sound of the wind.

"And what would you suggest, huh? Compliance? Silent obedience?" she snapped back, turning to face him with a glare, “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You miserable pieces of shit!” she shouted

Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's raining, Y/N. Let’s go back inside before you catch your death," he tried reasoning with her, his voice calm but firm.

“Oh sure, it’s the rain that’s going to kill me,” she rolled her eyes. "Last time I checked, a little water has never hurt anyone," she snapped, dismissing his concern with a wave of her hand. Her focus was solely on venting her frustration, paying little attention to where she was stepping. The garden path, slick with rain, was a treacherous terrain for her furious pacing.

Before Taehyung could warn her, YN's foot caught on the edge of a stone near the koi pond. Her balance lost, she stumbled with a startled yelp, arms flailing as she tried desperately to regain her footing. It was no use; gravity took over, and with a splash that echoed louder than her shouts, YN found herself submerged in cold murky water.

“Ah, shit,” Taehyung rushed to the pond’s edge, suppressing a chuckle as he extended a hand to help her out. “Looks like a little water might hurt after all," he remarked, trying to infuse a bit of humor into the situation.

Soaked and shivering, YN grasped his hand, her earlier fire doused by the icy pond water. "Very funny," she muttered, pulling herself up with his help. She stood dripping beside the pond, the rain mixing with pond water, her elegant outfit ruined and clinging uncomfortably to her skin.

Taehyung’s expression softened as he draped his jacket over her shoulders. "Come on, let’s get you inside and dried off," he said, guiding her back towards the mansion. "And maybe skip the midnight garden walks for a while, yeah?"

"Fuck off," she muttered under her breath, even as he escorted her toward her quarters, his jacket still wrapped around her.

--

In the warm embrace of the shower, Y/N let the hot water cascade over her, washing away the pond's chill and the night's frustrations. As the steam clouded around her, so did her thoughts, swirling with the events of the evening.

The steam seemed to seep into her pores, attempting to soothe the sting of humiliation and the cold realization of her helplessness.

Her mind replayed Namjoon's words, sharp and cutting, echoing against the tiles with every droplet that fell.

Remember your place.

the fall into the pond had been a jolt back to a reality she’d been trying to ignore. It wasn't just the physical shock of the cold water but the absurdity of the situation that gnawed at her. Here she was, a pawn in a game of power, maneuvered by people who saw her not as a person but as a leverage point—a tool in their negotiations and strategies. The very idea that she could be discussed as part of a war strategy was infuriating.

With every drop that washed over her, she pondered the bitter irony of her safety. Here, in between the tigers’ claws, surrounded by those who viewed her as little more than a bargaining chip, she was, in a twisted sense, probably safer than she had been in a long time. The thought stung, a reluctant admission that clawed at her pride.

Her last encounter with her brother had been under circumstances shrouded in shadows and tension, their parting more a series of harsh whispers and hurried steps than heartfelt goodbyes. The memory was a sharp jab to her conscience, a reminder of unfinished business and unresolved conflicts that lingered like ghosts in her mind.

The steam fogged up the mirror, and for a moment, she imagined it clouding out the world, giving her a momentary respite from the watchful eyes and calculated moves. But as comforting as the warmth was, it couldn't wash away the reality of her predicament.

She needed to be more than just compliant; she needed to be cunning. If they were going to use her as a piece in their games, then perhaps it was time to learn the rules and play back. Tonight, however, she would allow herself just a few more moments of solace in the simple, searing heat of the shower.

The comforting rush of warm water was abruptly overshadowed by some noise coming beyond the bathroom door. Y/N's muscles tensed beneath the cascade. "Taehyung,” she began, her voice, sharp with annoyance, echoing slightly off the tiled walls, “I told you not to—"

Her sentence was abruptly cut off as the door swung open with a force that suggested urgency—or a complete utter lack of care. "Jesus Christ—" Y/N exclaimed, a mix of surprise and irritation in her tone. She instinctively spun around, her eyes squinting through the billowing steam. She could make out a figure, distinctly different from Taehyung's lean silhouette.

Before she could fully shield herself or demand an explanation, a deep, unfamiliar voice cut through the mist.

"And who the fuck are you?"

--

guess who? lol

Anyway hope you liked it. If some of you are intrigued or interested in finding out more, don't hesitate to interact and I'll start posting some more chapters! Also questions and remarks and feedback are welcome xxx

Chapter 7

Masterlist

Taglist

@princess-sunshyn

@loumin908

[jor-elthatendswell]

It's a well worn topic at this point but the imminent release of The Marvels has me thinking about how militaristic the Marvel Cinematic Universe is, with Monica Rambeau aka Photon, a habour patrol member in the comics, reimagined as a captain in the US Air Force.

She follows Hawkeye, who was changed from an argumentative former circus performer with a heart of gold (a character so staunchly against lethal force he once revoked his own wife's Avengers membership because she sort of, maybe, subconsciously allowed a villain to fall to his death) into a hard-nosed black ops assassin.

Sam Wilson/ Falcon made his celluloid debut as an army man with twin submachine guns attached to his wrists. It’s a far cry from his print counterpart’s introduction as a social worker by day who uses his skill at falconry to protect his neighbourhood.

If we allow the argument that modern cinema goers are accustomed to a sprinkling of realism to make their superheroes palatable (and it’s a strange argument really- why should realism be a desirable quality in summer blockbuster escapism?) then what actually constitutes “realism”.

Sure, a man who learnt uncanny skill with a bow and arrow growing up with a travelling show couldn’t possibly hold his own alongside Hulk or Thor in the real world (and, yes, there isn’t a Hulk or Thor in the real world; as I say, this is a strange argument), but if he learned those exact same skills in some kind of military context then that somehow passes the bar for realism? The sinister upshot is that these children’s heroes become more warlike just as, globally, they reach more children than ever before.

Increasing the realism of superhero stories only serves to make them problematic. DC Comics' Batman, who is the frequently subjected to “realistic” treatments, is the prime example. If, in real life, a billionaire tooled himself up with the best weapons and body armour money can buy and began dispensing violent “justice” with no accountability, then of course that wouldn’t be a good thing. If they wore a costume with pointy ears and started calling themselves “Batman” then of course we would question their sanity. But Batman isn’t real; it’s a story. Nobody thinks The Muppet Show advocates animal cruelty. Quite the opposite, if anything. ("Not unless they're watching it", as Waldolf once heckled) Yet if a filmmaker decides they’re going to make a “grounded and realistic” remake where Fozzy is played by a real live bear wearing a pork pie hat and spotty necktie, then that's a whole other story. Suspend your disbelief and superheroes are less like the police or army and more akin to volunteers and activists, doing what they can with what they have to improve the lives of those around them. Their actions take the form of crime fighting only because that’s what makes for exciting colourful adventure stories for children.

In the MCU, even Marvel’s poster boy, Spider-Man (another champion of non-lethal solutions, known for his compassion even to his enemies and who possesses an enduring appeal to young children) is given a literal sheen of the military-industrial complex in the form of “Stark Tech” armour, replete with military grade strike drones. Tony Stark even thought to equip his 15 year old protégé-cum-child soldier with an “Instant Kill Mode”. In a moment played for laughs in Spider-Man: Homecoming, Spider-Man rejects his on-board AI's attempt to activate this feature but seems untroubled that such an option exists and, indeed, come Avengers: Infinity War, he voluntarily deploys it. It’s not clear if Spidey actually does kill any of his alien adversaries, but it seems reasonable to assume that one doesn’t say “Activate Instant Kill Mode” without the intention of ending lives. Fans are expected to smile or applaud as Spider-Man says these words, recognising the call-back to Homecoming, rather than find it a gross misrepresentation of Marvel’s most beloved character or an alarming depiction of a children’s favourite.

The MCU Avengers as a whole are a US government “initiative “. The reluctant superheroes need to be cajoled into putting their differences aside for the greater good by army top brass Nick Fury. In a tweak from the source material, the ‘H' in Fury's organisation, SHIELD, stands for ‘Homeland’, making SHIELD as explicitly American venture as opposed to it being ostensibly intergovernmental in the comics.

There is a comic book precedent for this military take on Earth's Mightiest Heroes in the form of The Ultimates, a 2002 series by the British team of writer Mark Millar and artist Bryan Hitch. The Ultimates ,however, was satire. Millar was an unreformed lefty of the old school – someone who has boasted of voting Brexit for left-wing reasons, someone who once appeared on Russia Today as a guest of George Galloway. The Ultimates took swings at the gung ho jingoism of post 9/11 America. Captain America's “Surrender!!?? You think this letter on my head stands for France?“ is not supposed to be a badass one-liner, but rather a parody of the kind of things US media outlets were saying as Jacques Chirac proved less keen than Tony Blair to follow George Bush in bringing gunboat diplomacy to the Middle East. As Millar commentated at the time:

“The Ultimates is completely different because it's a character-driven piece and (something only a few people have noticed) my attempt as a left-wing writer to tell stories about an essentially right-wing concept and cast. It's very much the Anti-Authority, if you will. Captain America and so on are fully-paid members of the US military machine and this means a very different book and approach from a gang of slightly arrogrant, left-wing, superhuman utopians like The Authority ".

Wildstorm Comics' The Authority, which both Millar and Hitch worked on (although not together), was a precursor to Ultimates, featuring a team of similarly “any means necessary” heroes, albeit with a left-wing bent. The Ultimates does have something of The Authority’s utopian streak; Nick Fury and Tony Stark genuinely want to make the world a better place for everyone. It’s very idealistic – what if the head of the military and the biggest tech billionaire actually had the people’s best interests at heart? – and arguably closer to true superhero ethos (basically “with great power there must also come great responsibility “) than those characters more pragmatic MCU equivalents.

Yet, as Millar's one time writing partner Grant Morrison (who actually ghost-wrote at least one issue of The Authority under Miller’s name) observed in Morrison’s major nonfiction work, Supergods, the likes of The Authority, The Ultimates and, by extension, the MCU represent a “capitulation” to the view “that it was really only force and violence that got things done and not patient diplomacy, and that only soldiers and very rich people had the world figured out”. If the MCU is realistic, then it’s a sad indictment of the real world where the heroes are the ones with the best tech, the best guns and no compunction about using them.

Regardless of intent, The Ultimates left a door at Marvel’s “House of Ideas” just enough ajar to allow a malign notion to creep in: “These soldier superheroes are pretty cool. What If they were like that all the time? Wouldn’t they be more popular then”?

Certainly the navy SEAL aesthetic Bryan Hitch brought to the costumes (replacing the colourful tights and capes with pouches, straps and body armour) was soon adopted by superhero tv and film productions even pre-MCU. In fact, Hawkeye's journey from carny to commando mirrors the changes in superhero attire. Most famously, Superman's appearance with the red “overpants” derives from that of circus strongmen, but seeing any photography of early to mid 20th century carnival and circus performers makes it clear the early superhero creators had them in mind when they first put pencil to paper.

In an interview (found in Marvel Spotlight: Captain America, published in 2009) Hitch related how he showed an initial Ultimates drawing of Captain America with a machine gun to Grant Morrison, which Morrison then “described as the most obscene Captain America image [they’d] ever seen”. (NB: Morrison has since adopted gender neutral pronouns). Perhaps Morrison said this with glee, in on the joke with their friends, but in the years since, Cap with a gun became a common sight, even in family-friendly movies (where it was divorced from the irony of The Ultimates).

By a 2015 interview, Morrison lamented the fact that “the Avengers work for the government, and it's been like that since Mark [Millar] did The Ultimates” and said they were “bored with the idea that the best superheroes can represent is some aggressive version of the military. [...] They're supposed to be champions of the oppressed, they help ordinary people, they make things better for people. They don't prop up our grotesque, doddering culture of war and aggression”.

That same year Morrison introduced a new comic book superteam in the pages of The Multiversity. Pointedly the text likens this group, named “Justice Incarnate”, to a “cosmic neighbourhood watch” rather than any formal military or law-enforcement institution.

Millar himself reunited with his Authority collaborator Frank Quitely to create the comic Jupiter’s Legacy, which comes across in part as an apology for The Ultimates and all it begat. It concludes with the protagonists, Chloe Sampson and Eddie "Hutch" Hutchence taking up superhero mantles and promising not to make the moral compromises of their predecessors:

“No more bowing to authority and insitutions. No more deference to people in power”.

“There's a dignity in public service we mistook for old-fashioned, and a humility in having a secret identity, living among the people we protect.“

The Avengers, Marvel’s breakthrough billion dollar box office 2012 movie, by contrast, concludes with Iron Man dropping a nuclear bomb on the “Chitari”, an invading alien army and it seems likely this influenced Morrison’s comments on modern superhero stories.

In Supergods, Morrison

describes their childhood dread of nuclear weapons. The child of “ban the bomb” activists, the “gruesome hand-drawn images of how the world might look after a spirited thermonuclear missile exchange” which illustrated their parents anti-nuclear literature struck terror into the young Morrison. Therefore they seized upon superheroes as being an idea powerful enough to counteract – and overcome – the idea of the bomb.

“It’s not that I needed Superman to be “real,” I just needed him to be more real than the Idea of the Bomb that ravaged my dreams”.

Within the narrative of the movie, Iron Man takes the only option available to him to save New York. Destroying thousands of alien lives to save thousands of human ones. But The Avengers isn’t a documentary; the scriptwriters could have written a satisfying denouement which didn’t involve mass murder. They could at least have included some words of regret by the heroes over what it took to win, acknowledging that killing is not the ideal solution. Instead the Avengers trade banter and eat shawarma, collective conscious clear.

There is a moment in another Grant Morrison work, Final Crisis, which always brings the MCU to mind. In Final Crisis #3, drawn by JG Jones, (published in 2008, the same year the MCU began) “evil gods” from a higher plain of existence have been reincarnated on Earth. In order for the Justice League to counter this threat, a “draft for Superheroes” is implemented. Green Arrow (a Batman-a-like character who was subsequently reinvented to embody the countercultural sentiment of the late 1960s and has since served as the social conscious of the superhero set) responds to receiving his draft notice thusly:

“If anybody falls for this authoritarian, militaristic crap, it’ll prove I’m absolutely right about absolutely everything!... “

Cue the next page, where the drafted heroes have gathered en mass (including Green Arrow, impotently shaking his fist.)

Such an assemblage of characters in usually a triumphant moment in a summer "event" story, but here is framed as a sign that evil already has it’s hooks into reality. This world has fallen to the darkness and the superheroes who inhabit it are too morally compromised to realise it.

[despicablebisexual]

(I Just) Died In Your Arms by Cutting Crew

part 1, part 2, part 3

Jotaro Kujo x Ex-wife!Reader

The fallout of the previous night occurs.

warnings: cheating, heavy angst

Jotaro had spent all his life cursing his ancestry for dealing him the worst cards possible. First, he’s seventeen and has to fight an ancient vampire that his great-great-grandfather didn’t defeat, then he has to mentor his teenage uncle about being a responsible stand user, and even then he’s required to keep coming back and fighting for more and more.

It wasn’t fair then and it isn’t fair now.

But all thoughts of bad luck are stripped away when he wakes up in your bed with you curled up on his chest. For a second, he believes that he woke up twenty-six again and the last six years without you were all a bad dream. Any second now, Jolyne should come running in as fast as a five year old can, and demand breakfast. Of course, when he looks around the room he’s in and realizes none of his personal affects are there, his heart breaks a little and he adjusts back to the harsh reality.

Despite the headache demanding he lay back down, he decided to do something nice for you and make you a cup of coffee. He tugs his arm from under you and rolls his eyes with a smirk as you whine at the loss of his body heat in your sleep. When he stands from the bed and realizes he’s still naked from last night’s… activities, he pulls on his tight boxers before heading out towards the kitchen. It’s dark and gloomy outside, heavy clouds getting ready to release a serious rainstorm by the looks of it. In the distance, thunder rumbles. Another classic, pop-up tropical storm, typical Florida weather.

Jotaro stands in your kitchen and squints his eyes at the coffee maker. He’s trying to make sense of it as he puts a mug underneath. He presses a button that looks like it should start brewing, but frowns when the machine turns off. He hits the button again and it starts up, the little screen lighting up. He presses another button, but this time only hot water dispenses. Shutting it off quickly, he grits his teeth. In frustration, Jotaro bangs the side of the machine. The hot water starts again and he hits the off switch again.

“Piece of shit…”

He toys with the idea of buying you a new coffee maker when the doorbell rings. Jotaro casts a glance over to the doorway. From the kitchen, one can see the front door that’s right next to the archway. Jotaro turns back to the light on the stove that reads 8:21 AM. Who the fuck was ringing the doorbell this early on a Sunday? He intends to ignore it, shrugging it off as just some door to doors salesman, but it rings again and is now accompanies by an incessant knock. Not wanting some inconsiderate asshole to wake you from your much needed rest, Jotaro strides over to the door and opens it up without even bothering to check the peephole.

“What do you want?”

A tall guy wearing a navy blue fireman’s shirt and work pants stood at the door. Both of the men furrow their brow as they take in the other. 

**********

You woke with a groan, a sore feeling making itself known in between your legs and in your head. You rolled out of bed and entered the en suite bathroom to quickly get some headache medicine to help your throbbing head. The small pills went down easily with the help of water from the sink, and you sat down on the bed for a second.

Jotaro isn’t in the bed, but you don’t worry for once, as you can hear him messing with the coffee machine in the kitchen. The events from last night replay in your head a million times over and you can’t stop the smile that forms when you think about it. It wasn’t a promise or another set of wedding vows, but being reunited with him last night gives you newfound hope that perhaps things can be different this time. Your inner romantic takes full control of your thoughts as you flop onto your back.

Your momentary giddiness is cut off when you hear a knock at the front door. You mentally freak when you think of it being the Williams’s returning Jolyne already. You throw on a loose night shirt that was haphazardly laying by your laundry bin and pull your underwear back on. It was a little gross, but you could shower and change into actual clean clothes later.

Your feet are loud on the floors as you speedwalk to the door, but it’s too late. Jotaro has already intercepted the door and is staring at the last person you want to be standing on the other side of it. Both men turn to you with wild eyes.

“Y/n?”

“Anthony,” you test, his name suddenly like poison on your tongue.

Anthony stands at the door in utter disbelief. Shame washes over you immediately as your boyfriend of two years looks at the semi-nude forms of you and your ex-husband. It’s very, very easy to understand what transpired last night. Both of your necks are littered in hickies, the stench of sex hangs over you two like a cloud, for christ’s sake Jotaro answered the door in only his underwear, and with the way he manhandled you last night, there was surely hand shaped bruises all along your lower half: all extremely incriminating evidence that you two had spent the evening enjoying each other’s presence. And between all of that, you hadn’t even thought about Anthony once last night.

“Why are you here?” you croaked out.

Anthony is wordless as he holds up a to-go container from your favorite breakfast restaurant.

“The boys and I got breakfast after our shift.” His eyes tear up. “I wanted to make it up for missing your big night last night.”

He looks between you and Jotaro for an uncomfortably long time. You have no words or excuses and feel like a coward when you can’t even meet his eyes. You can hear the noise of two years of your life flushing down the drain.

“Guess you didn’t need me there, huh.”

“Anthony, wait–” 

Anthony shoves the breakfast into your outstretched hands, stopping you from getting to him as he turns and walks back down the driveway. You try to chase him out the door, but stop as you realize the futility. He gets in his car quickly and drives off without even a bat of his eye. You’re standing in the sprinkling rain now holding the food with tears in your own eyes as you watch him drive away. Your knuckles turn white with the way you grip the bag, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. Two years gone like that, all because you were selfish and thought you could have one night alone with Jotaro.

Jotaro.

You had forgotten all about the other tall man as you chased Anthony out the door. Turning back to look, he’s no longer standing there. You run inside, shut the door, throw the food down on the counter before heading back into your bedroom.

In the bedroom, Jotaro hurriedly pulls on all of his clothes. He’s already putting his jacket back on when you burst in.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“You’re not staying?”

He pauses as he glances at you from the side of his eye. You’re freaking out and he can tell.

“No. I’m heading out of the country again to go check on someone in Italy. Stand business.”

“What about Jolyne? Don’t you want to see her again?” 

“I think I’ve fucked up enough things around here for you already.”

“So that’s it?! You come and fuck me and then you leave again?”

You’re full on spiraling at this point. Both of the only men you ever loved are walking out the door within minutes of each other and you can’t help but take in the familiar feeling of being left alone again.

Jotaro stares into your eyes with that cold, calculated expression he wears when his walls go up. You try to move to be closer to him, but he closes his eyes and shakes his head. His hands direct you a step back to create space between the two of you.

“I shouldn’t have approached you last night. It was a mistake.”

A few tears slip down your face and Jotaro fights the urge to wipe them.

“It was a mistake?”

He sighs and looks away. “Why didn’t you say you were seeing someone? He seemed like a nice guy. You need someone to take care of you.”

You look down at the ground, feeling even more ashamed when even Jotaro admits Anthony was good for you.

“I–”

You fail to come up with a proper answer and Jotaro moves past you to leave the house. You cry silently to yourself for a second before chasing after him. His hand is on the knob of the front door when you stop him.

“Because I want to be with you, Jojo.” Your tears shamelessly run down your face. You’ve got to look like a child the way you cry about wanting something.

His hand rises to cover his stupid face with that stupid hat he always wore. Unbeknownst to you, he’s averting his eyes because every single alarm bell is ringing in Jotaro’s mind yelling at him to stay where he is. Stay with you. You’re good for him. You belong together. 

But the voice reminding him that he left for your and Jolyne’s safety, although quieter, is the one he listens to. 

“We’ve been here before, y/n. You know how this story goes.”

He opens the door and is met with no resistance from you. A cab is miraculously already waiting outside for him. He enters it and the driver speeds off quickly. He doesn’t look back once.

Yeah. You had been here before. Just another time you messed everything up. 

[iceman-kazansky]

Coffee can't Keep you Awake Forever

RK800 Connor x F! Reader

Summary: You need some sleep, and Connor thinks he can provide just that.

A/n: Yes, I know I don't even have Detroit:become human listed under the fandoms I write for BUT this idea has been plauging my mind for DAYS.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

"Would You like anything to drink?" Hanks voice sounds from the kitchen, "I've got booze."

Through your haze, you find your voice to respond, "No thank you, But thanks for the offer."

Hank comes back into the living room and sits in a lone arm-chair with his bottle. "Suit yourself."

You knew you couldn't handle any alcohol right now. Your brain was nearly haywire with exhaustion and alcohol would not do it justice.

A normal person would say "then sleep if you are tired." If only it were that easy. While you begged for sleep in all waking parts of the world, your brain had other plans. It refused to let you stop working for more than a few hours.

Truthfully, the only thing keeping you awake was a coffee every 2 hours and the pile of work that just kept adding to your mental shelves. That was to blame with how hectic the case had gotten recently. People turning up murdered by their rogue androids left and right had you drowning in paperwork.

So, yes, a break would be wonderful.

Getting up for another coffee, you trudged into the kitchen, feet heavy and limbs slow.

The coffee machine rumbled to life as you put your cup under the dispenser, a blue screen illuminating your face in the dim lighting of the room, showcasing an excessive amount of options to customize your drink.

Selecting the options that seemed most appealing to your tired eyes, the coffee machine got to work, pouring the contents of your liquid into the white mug you'd placed under it.

"You can't function on coffee forever. The human body needs sleep."

You jumped at the sound of a voice that had materialized from nearly thin air, "Jesus Christ! Connor! Don't do that!"

"I'm sorry if I alarmed you." He apologizes.

Waving a hand at the android you respond, "No, no. You're fine. I didn't hear you. That's all"

"I have noticed signs of sleep deprivation, recently. Bags beneath the eyes, Excessive yawning, little moments where you–"

You cut him off, "I'm not sleep deprived. I'm fine. Just stressed that's all."

Connor is quiet, his eyes staring at your back when you turn back to your newly delivered coffee. He contemplates, his programming running diagnostics upon diagnostics on the situation. Does he question if you are okay? Does he ask what's stressing you? Or does he just leave it alone?

He decides with the option that feels most right to him, "What is on your mind, lieutenant?"

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. Something of a stress reliever. "The cases." Pausing, you continue, "I'm puzzled. Can't think of any logical reasons as to why this is happening."

While there are certainly hypothesis circulating within your posse of 3, none make proper sense. Androids were said to be mindless machines that didn't have the ability to decide for themselves, rather for the greater good of the whole. Yet, why were they each doing exactly what they were programmed not to do?

None of it made sense.

"Perhaps it would start making sense if you allowed yourself to get some sleep." He offered.

"I can't. That's the problem." Sipping the coffee in your hands to hopefully deter the fatigue overpowering you, screaming at your muscles and brain to stop working.

"I would like to help but I'm not certain if my services will be any use. I recommend staying off the caffeine for the time being. It will help coax your body into sleep sooner or later."

And with that, Connor was gone from the kitchen, leaving you alone with your drink.

With an angered and exasperated sigh, you dumped the remaining coffee in your mug down Hank's sink.

–

Sitting on the couch next to Connor, you began to regret not drinking that coffee. Your mind was in shambles, hundreds of things that could explain your cases involving deviants were swirling like fog, clouding your senses. Yet, you felt as if you were on the verge of discovering something big. Oh how you should have drank thar coffee! It was getting impossible to hold your eyes open any longer, each minute that ticked by adding to your exhaustion.

Hank stood up abruptly, still in his drunken stupor, and stumbled into his room, closing the door loudly behind him. That left you and Connor, side by side, on the couch with some movie going on in the background.

Connor had been focused (as much as an android could) on the movie for the duration of the time you'd come back. He wasn't interested in the show going on infront of his eyes, as an android he didn't process any particular attachment to the characters shown on TV nor feel any explicit interest in the plot point the two were reaching. It simply wasn't in his program to do so.

He could sense a pressure on his shoulder, and he cast a glance down to your sleeping form.

There, passed out from fatigue, with your head delicately placed upon Connor's shoulder, you fell asleep.

The android didn't mind. As long as you got the rest you deserved. As much as he knew you didn't want to hear it, nor talk about such a subject, he could see the weariness you carried over the past few days. Something in his programming told him it had something to do with the stress induced by the most recent homicide.

But yet, deep, buried beneath all his programming, he felt something arise within him. It made his LED turn yellow in deep thought.

But those were things he would have to figure out later, as he didn't plan on asking or moving from this position unless you did first. He wouldn't dare deprive you of your much needed sleep. Besides, you looked…

dare Connor say, cute.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

The Lark's Nest | Fledgling

Hello! I hope you’re doing well and had a good Halloween if that’s something you celebrate! The is isn’t exactly an ask, I just wanted to Officially State that if you want to write a Lark’s Nest sequel, I’d 1,000% read it! No pressure to do so, I know you’re probably swimming in asks!!! The interest is there, is all. :D Thank you so much for all the work you do, I love your writing very much and have plans to buy your book!! – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: whipping

Pairings: none

Word Count: 2557

Set a few years prior to the events of the previous chapter, in a very different club, with a very different boss.

"You disobeyed a direct order."

"I had to—"

"You deliberately disobeyed a direct order."

"I saved them!"

"And you would have gotten everyone else in this building killed because your bleeding heart couldn't handle the idea that sacrifice is necessary." The boss stared down over the railing, his breathing equally hard. Their stares locked. For a split second, something like agony crossed his expression.

Then it grew still. His chin tilted up, fists clenched on the railing.

"Twenty," he said softly, "one for every man you could have killed for the sake of three."

"…you can't be serious," Logan said, almost laughing at how ludicrous—surely, how ludicrous the suggestion was. That he be whipped for saving people.

But then two other gang members were moving forward to take him by the arms and horror slammed into him.

"Wait, what?" The boss watched them with a stony expression. "You're—you can't be serious, you're going to whip me for saving them?"

"Disobeying is treason," the boss said lowly, "and recklessly endangering the lives of my crew is not an offense I can afford to tolerate."

"But you can afford to do this?"

He was hauled to the post in the middle of the basement floor. They started to chain his hands. Logan pulled against them, head jerking around to glare at the boss.

"Is this the price of your authority? Do the three saved lives mean nothing to you?"

He managed to tear one arm away but it was caught within moments. The chain rattled and the boss nodded. One of the other gang members took a knife and split his shirt up the back.

At the feel of the cold air on his skin, Logan jerked so hard the post shuddered.

"Are our lives forfeit to you, then," he spat, as another slowly advanced with the whip, "do only you get to decide what happens to us? Are we only allowed to suffer or prosper at your whims?"

The crew, which had been summoned at the first sign of the returning car and now stood to witness this dispensing of 'justice,' began to mutter. The rescue had worked, none had died, but now the boss was angry and the punishment…

As the whip drew back, Logan's eyes flashed and caught the boss's one last time.

"You never even said it was good to see them alive."

The first strike fell.

Logan's hands tightened on the chain as his back split. The second fell and opened it again, blood beginning to splatter along the deck. His once white shirt grew heavy, no longer fluttering in the slight breeze as they sound echoed off the cold concrete floor. Muffled gasps and groans turned into barely contained sobs, turned into one agonized yelp that made a few avert their gazes, before Logan suddenly clung to post and went motionless, even as the last lashes cracked even harder.

Silence followed the last snap.

No one dared move save for the one who held the whip, panting slightly as they let it fall to the ground.

Logan did not move. He clung to the post, muscles shaking with the effort, but gave no indication that he knew it was over.

The boss moved first, raising his chin. "Clean up. We're gone in an hour."

As he turned toward his office, the floor slowly came back to life. A few fetched the supplies needed to clean the blood and the post, several more to begin making the building ready to be liquefied. Many offered their relief that the three had been brought back safely—some that had done so when they first arrived, some that had not—and a few reached for the bloodied body hanging from the post.

His hands were bloodied too, the imprint of the metal making grooves on his arms from where he'd clutched the post. His eyes were closed, his limbs weak and trembling. He could only manage a few limping steps before his feet slipped.

"C'mon," one grunted as they carefully eased his arm over their shoulders, "to the medic."

The medic was there ahead of them, gesturing at the bed at Logan was carefully placed onto it, back exposed. He set out a pair of tweezers at his side and bent close.

"Have to clean up the blood first," he said, "then we'll see if you need more."

One rag became two, became three until the water ran clear. A few lashes still wept as the medic reached for the bottle, muttering a quick warning before pressing a soaked cloth to his wounds. Logan didn't react, so still and so silent that the medic reached out to put a hand near his nose and mouth to check if he was still breathing.

"Eyes open," he said, relaxing a tad when his eyes fluttered, "keep them like that until I'm done."

He kept an eye on him, watching him stare vacantly at the wall as he tended to his wounds. Eventually, he sighed and turned away.

"You'll need to let them sit a bit longer," he said, "and no sleeping on your back for a good month or so. Try and keep your shirt as clean as possible too."

Logan nodded once.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Logan's fingers twitched slightly, indicated his battered wrists. The medic dragged a stool closer and picked up another cloth. He took hold of one of his hands and began to clean it, swiping the cloth at knuckles and wrists and dabbing over the mangled skin. He worked in silence for a while before glancing up to check if Logan's eyes were still open.

He was far too experienced for his hands to stutter at the sight of tears, but it hurt all the same.

"I know it hurts," he said quietly, knowing it wasn't just the outside wounds he referred to, "I'm almost done."

Above them, they heard the sounds of the crew beginning preparations to go and the rumble of the cars as they began to peel out of the parking lots outside.

"You'll stay here tonight," the medic said, "don't want to risk moving you. The last of the preparations won't need to be done until next week, you'll be seen to here."

When Logan nodded, his blank stare growing damp under his face, the medic sighed and reached out to gruffly fix his shoulders.

"Don't want you getting stiff," he muttered, "you'll have to move a little bit every now and then. Messes your limbs and neck up if you don't."

Logan nodded again, but it was puppet-like. Gone was the fire, gone were the smiles.

Gone was the man he recognized.

The medic had seen a lot of good gang members die, a lot of good innocent men too.

He had never before seen someone die while his heart still beat.

It was not his place as a medic to put one life above another, but he found himself wondering what would've happened if Logan had died instead.

***

A few months later:

The fact that the change is so sudden is perhaps its most significant factor.

Logan does not speak except to answer the medic's questions. He spends days in the room at the medic's orders, emerging again as a shriveled shell when he's finally given leave to return to work. He moves slowly, not slow enough to cause a ruckus, but much slower than he used to. His voice is calm and even but he never sounds as though he wants to be speaking.

There is one exception.

When he first emerged, he sought out the gang members he had saved and told them in no uncertain terms, that he would do it again. If it meant they would be saved, he would do it again.

He did not do anything that could get him in trouble again.

At first, it was written off as an overcompensation. Any member put to the lash thinks long and hard about their behavior before they do something that could land them under it again. The others assumed that this would last for a few weeks at most before Logan would be better, that he would be back.

But one week stretched to two, stretched to three, and kept stretching.

The medic worried that the wounds had become infected, but they were healing fine. Granted, the scars were almost worse than any he'd ever seen before—especially from something like this, for someone so young—but there was no outward indication of anything wrong.

The other issue came from how quiet Logan was.

One of the rescued, ranking no higher than a cabin rat, had grown close to him. He badgered Logan in that endearing way young children do, question after question, story after story, until it came out that he missed Logan's voice.

I still talk, he had said.

But you don't sound like you, he had wheedled, and you never sing anymore.

And that had been when the grew knew something was wrong.

Any gang worth its salt knew how to entertain a crowd. Any gang could run a club that kept the community on their side, any gang would put a decent show on just to keep its members and it surrounding territory happy. And for as long as the crew could remember, it had always been carried by one distinctive voice. But even when the others sang, when they asked and joked and outright pleaded, Logan didn't sing. They would try and have no noise come out, or Logan would clam up and refuse to speak. And while he wasn't technically doing anything wrong, it hurt every time the club's doors opened and they all just knew one voice would be missing. Even the other musicians started to ask, what happened to that one gang member with the sweet voice that used to sing with them? And they would never have an answer.

It was no surprise that the cabin rat was the first to turn against the boss, but it was a surprise when the medic followed suit.

Orders were followed to the letter, but only to the letter. Anything that could've been done with a bit of initiative was put off until it became an outright order or someone else took care of it. Conversations stuttered, smiles faded, and some of the crew took notice.

The cabin rat is, well, a cabin rat, but the medic is a respected figure. Given his authority to override the boss if necessary, it was as much about self-preservation as it was genuine admiration and care. So when a rift emerged between the medic and the boss, the crew quickly found themselves having to choose what to do.

A few sided with the boss quickly, scolding the others and telling them that their behavior was out of line. But they were quickly met with questions of how they were breaking the rules, or what they were doing wrong, and you cannot command someone's heart any more than you can order the sun to stop rising and setting.

The boss noticed, as should all bosses notice when there's something wrong with their crew, but any attempt to understand what had happened was met with nothing. And what could he do? No one was disobeying—as a matter of fact, things were running more effectively than it had in a long time—but everyone was slightly too cold.

Too impersonal.

He finally cornered his second in command about it, pouring them a drink and insisting that, for once, could someone in this club speak to him frankly?

"The crew's upset, boss."

"I've gathered that, but what no one will tell me is why."

The second takes a long pull from the glass. "But you know what it is."

"How can I possibly know if no one's told me?"

"Same way you know the storm's building even if there are no clouds in the sky."

The boss sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What would you have had me do? Just excuse it and risk him questioning my authority during a crisis? You of all people know how dangerous that can be!"

The second stays quiet.

"You know the rules." he continues, "risking the crew is unacceptable. Betraying that trust and safety of your crew is an offense of the highest order. How as I supposed to let that slide?"

"I can hear him cry, you know."

The boss pauses, sitting up a little more. "What?"

"At night. His room is right next to mine for some of the shifts." The second traces a ring in the table. "It's real quiet, but I sleep light, pressed against the wall. I can hear it. It gets worse when it rains."

It's the boss's turn to fall silent.

"You know why that cabin rat's so close with him now? 'Cause for a while, they had to sleep on top of each other so he wouldn't roll onto his back. Medic's orders." The second sits up. "I asked him about it when I saw them come out of there one morning. You know what he said?"

The boss nods his head.

"He said maybe it would've been better if all four of them had died instead."

The boss's breath leaves him in a rush. To hear those words come from someone so young…

"The rigger came and found me too," the second continues, "said they had to apologize to the medic and the medic send them to me. Said they thought it'd be better to spread out the twenty instead of ripping his back open, but now they're not so sure."

They have to look away for a second. When they look back, it's with quiet fury.

"Twenty lashes is a lot for a large man," they say, "and Logan's barely bigger than the cabin rat."

The room is silent for long moments, before the boss finally speaks again.

"I went to see him," he says hoarsely, "I did. That night, I tried to see him. Medic wouldn't let me in."

"And since?"

He shakes his head. "Never alone. Never able to get him away from anyone else—not even at night. Didn't want to try and order him up here."

The second is silent for another beat, before they set down their drink. "Can I give you some advice, sir?"

"Anything, please."

"Stop trying," the second's voice rings in the boss's ears long into the night, "it won't make a difference anyway."

***

Logan is traded away in a deal between two rival gangs. The cabin rat leaves the next day, taking a job at one of the few clubs firmly in civilian ground.

No one forgets, and no one sings with the musicians in the clubs anymore.

[cnnmairoll]

Butterfly Bonds

Pairing : Matsukawa Issei x Reader Note : Another rewrite from one of my old fics, but I add more to it! You can find the old version here. I don't exactly do any major changes but more of the way I write it!

"What's in your hands, sweetheart?" Matsukawa asked as you set down the packages you received from the mailman today. "Oh, just a bunch of stuff I bought online. Care to help me out?" you grinned. Being addicted to online shopping, you couldn't resist buying not only for yourself but also for Issei.

Issei sighed at your little addiction but still walked over to grab a pen knife from the drawer. You settled all your packages on the floor and started organizing which ones to open first.

"You're going for the big ones first?" he asked. "Mhm! Just be careful with this one; it's really fragile." Today's mail contained six packages, and one of them was a gift for Issei.

The first package was a glass water jug dispenser. You wanted to spruce up your apartment by changing some furniture and making it look prettier and cleaner. After Matsukawa managed to open all the cardboards and bubble wrap, he carefully pulled out the dispenser along with a plastic bag containing its accessories.

"There should be a stand for the dispenser… Ah! It's stuck in the box," you said, flipping the box to the other side to try opening it, but it wouldn't budge. As you attempted to open one end, Matsukawa suddenly noticed, "Wait, Y/N—" but it was too late. You cut your finger on the cardboard.

It was a somewhat deep cut, and it started bleeding. "Ah, shit! Hold on, let me get you some bandages," Matsukawa said, rushing to a drawer and returning with a first aid kit. "Here, show me your finger," he said, gently taking your hand and examining the cut.

"Seii, it stings," you whined as Matsukawa carefully wrapped the bandage around your finger. Once it was done, he set aside the first aid kit and the troublesome box. "We'll come back to that later. I'll open the other packages for you."

So you sat there, watching Matsukawa open the packages one by one. There was a mug, a figurine, jewelry, and some books. There was one tiny package left, and you decided to open it yourself.

Meanwhile, Matsukawa cleaned up the mess you both made and disposed of all the packaging supplies. You pulled out two matching silver rings, one with a butterfly on top and the other a ring band with a hole shaped like a butterfly.

"That looks pretty, baby," Issei commented as he returned from cleaning up. "This one's for you, so we can match!" you grinned, holding out one of the rings. Issei smiled back at you and put the ring on his finger. "Thank you, sweetheart," he said, kissing your temple.

As you both sat there, admiring the matching rings on your fingers, a mischievous glint appeared in Matsukawa's eyes. He leaned closer to you, whispering, "You know, there's one more surprise I have for you." Curiosity piqued, you tilted your head, urging him to continue.

Matsukawa reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. With a playful smile, he opened it, revealing a delicate necklace adorned with a silver butterfly pendant. Your eyes widened in delight, and Issei's grin mirrored yours.

"For the butterfly who brings light and joy to my life," Matsukawa said softly, placing the necklace around your neck. You could feel the weight of the pendant against your chest, and it served as a constant reminder of Matsukawa's love and thoughtfulness.

Touched by his gesture, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with love. The two of you shared a moment, basking in the warmth of your connection and the joy that radiated between you.

As the evening continued, you all settled down on the couch, snuggled up together. Matsukawa had brought out a fluffy blanket, and wrapped it around the two of you, creating a cozy nest. With contented smiles on your faces, you began to discuss future plans and dream about the adventures that lay ahead.

The room was filled with laughter, whispers, and the soothing sound of each other's heartbeat. In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges life threw your way, as long as you had each other, you could conquer anything.

And so, in the warmth of that embrace, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, knowing that tomorrow would bring new joys, new surprises, and a love that would continue to blossom like butterflies taking flight in the summer breeze.

[confused-red-head]

These Curses We Bear

Chapter 2 - Butterflies

Pro-Hero!Shouto Todoroki x Psychic Medium Detective!Reader

Masterlist

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WARNING: dark themes, death, minor character death, descriptions of dead bodies(no excessive gore), paranormal activities, blood, violence, cursing, angst, angst WITH COMFORT(moreso in later chapters), mentions of trauma, mentions of illness, fem!reader, READER TALKS TO GHOSTS, ghost child in chapter 1, children in general, Reader being a dork, home break-in, slowish burn, minor self harm (skin picking), pro hero au, aged up characters, strangers to friends to lovers, etc.

"What do you mean Shouto is in my bathroom?! Why is he here?! Shinsou, you better start explaining what the hell is going on!"

You whispered harshly with your shoulders scrunched up to the underground hero, dropping your bags on the edge of the kitchen counter. Shinsou moved his hands from his face as he shifted in his seat. His eyes looked everywhere, but where you stood.

"I technically shouldn't even be telling you this… but we were working on an undercover case involving some drug dealings in the area." He sighed, the bags under his eyes seemingly even more prominent.

You took this time to stiffly make your way into the kitchen, your narrowed eyes still pinned onto Shinsou.

"It was supposed to be kept under wraps. Todoroki was the one who contacted me for help. He believed there was a connection to a previous incident that he dealt with and he needed someone with more experience in this field." He continued as you gathered two cups and a tea container, bringing them to the counter. You placed the tea bags into the cups and poured the hot water from your dispenser.

"Of course, he insisted on coming as backup. No one was supposed to know except us and a few informants. Then… shit hit the fan." Shinsou went silent, still slumped in his seat. The look in his eyes made it look as if the stress from tonight alone took a few years off his life.

It was unnerving to see your usually snarky and straightforward friend beat around the bush so much.

"Shinsou, what happened?"

Your voice and eyes softened at the fact he looked so distressed. There was still a sharpness there, emphasizing that you wanted answers. Then his exhausted eyes finally met your's.

And a part of you wished they didn't.

"He found a body." Frustration and failure swirled in his contact covered irises.

You were silent. Frozen in shock. Your eyes locked onto him as if staring at him would somehow pry the information out of him faster.

"He was supposed to wait in the van. He heard a scream and went to investigate. That's when he found the body… and so did an officer on patrol. He wasn't wearing a full disguise so the officer recognized him. Officer dumbass immediately called for backup and decided to fire first before asking questions." His sweaty hands repeatedly clenched and unclenched into fists.

You leaned onto the kitchen countertop in your disbelief, your forefinger pressed to your mouth. Did you accidently collapse from exhaustion in the street coming home? This seems all too surreal.

"And knowing the police chief here… he doesn't trust heroes as far as he can throw them. The number three hero is now a wanted criminal… the headlines will be everywhere by morning." You added in a breathy mumble, still trying to fully understand that this was your reality.

Shinsou only nodded solemnly.

"... What else is there?..." You knew there was something he hadn't told you.

"He described the body to me… He said it looked like she drowned in nothing. Her skin was blue and water poured from her mouth. Yet her lips were severely chapped and in certain areas the skin cracked , there was nothing around that she could have drowned in. The area around her was bone dry and there was no sign of struggle…"

A cold chill shot down your back.

You heard this before. You've obsessively read over reports with similar autopsy descriptions. Now you really couldn't believe the situation you found yourself in.

"They're back… after ten years of silence and all of a sudden they're back…" your jaw clenches as your gut fills with a mix of emotions; anger, frustration, sadness… dread.

Shinsou stood quickly, taking large strides to the other side of the kitchen counter.

"We don't know that…" he spoke firmly, silently begging you not to jump to conclusions.

"How can you say that when you know just as well as I do that this method of murder is unique to one person…" you bit back.

Shinsou pursed his lips with a stubborn look in his eyes.

"I don't think you should look into this case… but I also know you are the best bet we have to solve this, whether it is them or a copycat killer."

You smugly took a sip of your tea as a smirk grew on your lips, "You're stupid if you think there was even a chance in hell I wouldn't be working this case."

The corner of Shinsou's lips perked as he chuffed and took his own tea in hand, "I wouldn't have told you if I knew you were going to work on this alone…"

You paused as he took a sip of his own tea. What the hell was that supposed to mean?! Was he planning on working on this case with you? You didn't have anything against that. You've worked well with him before, but you had a feeling he wasn't talking about himself.

"You're not the only stubborn, little shit that's interested in this case." He nodded his head toward your bathroom door.

"No…" Your brows furrowed in defiance as you stood straight.

"Yes." A satisfied smirk grew on Shinsou's face.

"People are going to be crawling over the entire city for this guy and you want me to work this case with him?!" You set your cup down much harder than you had intended as Shinsou continued to casually drink from his own, having visibly relaxed since he first entered.

"Well then I suggest you better get him a good disguise and hope your make-up skills are up to par." He challenged looking lazily at you through his tired, half lidded eyes, finally coming down from the adrenaline high with the help of the tea.

"Right…" You gave him the most deadpan look you could possibly conjure.

"Don't worry too much about it, you can use the emergency supplies I hid here." Shinsou swirled his cup as if what he just said was the most casual thing in the world. 

"You hid shit in my house?! When did you even have time to do this?! Shinsou, what the fuck?" Your face scrunched in frustration at the fact he used your home as some sort of storage.

He just nonchalantly shrugged as he set down his cup and leaned away from the counter, "I'm an underground hero. I can never be too prepared and tonight was a perfect example of that." 

You followed as he strode over to the living room coffee table and swiftly tugged it from its usual spot to reveal a storage hatch. 

You looked up from the hatch and back at Shinsou. He smirked at your perplexed expression, "...You forgot this was even here didn't you?"

"Shut up…" You crossed your arms in a small act of defiance.

He only chuckled when he unlocked the hatch to reveal a large duffle bag as well as emergency disaster supplies. He tugged the duffle bag out of its place in storage space and plopped it onto your couch.

"It's honestly shocking how perceptive yet oblivious you are. I even left some disaster supplies for you in case of an emergency."

"Awww, you do care." You teasingly drawled out.

Rolling his eyes, Shinsou closed the hatch and returned the coffee table to its rightful place. You turned your attention to the bathroom door again.

"So… there's really no getting rid of him?" You perched your hands on your hips, looking up at him with a pleading look.

"He may look level-headed and stoic, but once he has his sights on something, he's one stubborn bastard." He shook his head.

You groaned, this is going to be a hell of a lot harder than you could have ever imagined. You may have dreamed of getting a chance to find this murderer once and for all, but never having to babysit the framed number three hero while doing so.

"...This better go well or I'm haunting your ass.", You folded your arms and glared at Shinsou who only looked smug as it became clear he got you to fold.

"I expect nothing less." He gave you a small half-smile.

You planted your hand to your hips, and looked at him more directly, "Well, since I'm gonna be busy solving this case and babysitting, what's your plan?"

He shoved his hand into his pockets as he sat on the arm of your couch.

"As far as the police know, Shouto was the only one there and I was miles away from here. I'm going to continue keeping an eye out for any drug dealing activity. I'll also find a way to get any new case information to you. He should have a burner phone on him, just text if you need anything."

"Thinking you're going to infiltrate the police station are you?" You quirked a brow at him with a knowing look.

"Are you sure your quirk isn't telepathy?" He rolled his eyes at you.

"Are you sure your quirk isn't 'Smart Mouth'?" You shot back.

Shinsou tilted his head with a smug grin,"Is that the best comeback you have, Nancy Drew?"

"Shut up. It's late and I'm tired." Your eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Fine. Fine. I'll get out of your hair. I'll see you when I see you." He stood and made his way to the balcony parallel to the living room. He slid open the door and turned to some pipes bolted to the building. You watched on from the balcony door as he gave you a playful salute and climbed down the pipes, descending into the alleyway below.

You stood in the balcony door for a moment before retreating back into your apartment. A heavy sigh was ripped from you as the weight of the situation finally seemed to sink in. 

You were so fucked.

"I'm okay. This is fine. You can deal with this. You deal with bullshit everyday. This will be nothing. Most of the police around here are stupid anyway."

You mumbled away, wandering over to your bathroom door, figuring you should at least introduce yourself to your unexpected guest. After knocking on the door you introduced yourself, resting your hand on the doorknob.

"May I come in?"

"Yeah. Come in.", his low voice resonated from the otherside of the door.

You turned the knob and opened the door to find Todoroki, sweat-soaked hair falling messily from his ponytail, with the top half of his hero suit unzipped, hanging from his waist, and his undershirt ripped to reveal his bare chest. He winced slightly as he used a cloth to dab at a wound on his side.

Oh. You were SO fucked.

You immediately averted your eyes to the floor, now noticing a few drops of blood that had fallen to the ground. 

"Ah… Sorry. I wasn't expecting… that.", You glanced up quickly and made a quick swooping gesture at his person, clicking your tongue, "Then again I wasn't expecting a lot of things tonight yet they happened anyway."

"Sorry. I should have warned you." He leaned, propping himself with one hand using your sink countertop.

"About which part? You, half-naked and bleeding in my bathroom or you and Shinsou breaking into my apartment?"

Todoroki looked away as he pursed his lips and his bi-colored brows furrowed in a clear look of guilt. How this grown ass man managed to look like a kicked puppy was beyond you.

"Sorry… I…", you pinched your nose with a sigh and looked up at him, "I'm sorry… It's been a long night… for both of us. Just… if that wound isn't too bad, go ahead and take a shower. There's towels and a med kit in the cabinet. I'll get you some clothes to wear. If you need help with anything, just call. We can talk after."

His eyes flicked back to you as he graciously nodded.

"Thank you." He breathed out along with a sigh.

You gave him a quick nod in return as you turned and left the bathroom wondering which higher being you could have possibly pissed off for you to deserve this strange form of punishment.

Luckily, Todoroki's wound was just a graze from a bullet. Simply a flesh wound and was easily patched up. He did end up needing some assistance wrapping up the bandage, in which you did everything in your power not to touch him too directly. Now, he sat at your dining table nursing his own cup of tea, hair tied back once again and dressed in a black v-neck and sweatpants.

"So," you start as you sit down across from him after refreshing your own cup of tea, "I know for a fact that you heard our conversation earlier. These walls are thin. But right now I just want to know what Shinsou told you about me, because if you're going to be staying here there's things you're going to need to know about me. Plus, I think it would be kind of unfair since I know more about you than you do of me since well… you're famous and all."

He seemed to take a moment to consider your reasoning and nodded.

"Shinsou hadn't said too much. Mainly, you were reliable and could be trusted. He also made a comment about having a very peculiar quirk. His words, not mine."

You internally cringe as you roll your eyes. Of course he would leave you to suffer explaining your quirk. Reactions varied, but it was usually a fifty-fifty chance between immediate skepticism or over-enthusiastic belief. Both sides were irritating to deal with in their own ways. One thought you were insane and the other thought you were a tool to be used.

"Right. Well. How should I explain this?... I can see auras, residual energy, and… spirits."

His eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh." His exclamation almost came out as a whisper.

He was silent as his forefinger rested on his lips, seemingly lost in thought. You waited for a reaction. Any reaction. You purse your lips and tapped your fingers on the table.

"This… is usually when people start bombarding me with questions or call me insane." You drawled out, cautiously trying to gauge his reaction.

Todoroki's train of thought was cut short at your statement.

"People have accused you of being insane?" The way he sounded concerned almost caught off guard but you quickly shook it off.

You shrugged, "Well, I can't really blame them. I thought I was crazy too when I first manifested my quirk. I thought there was something wrong with me when I saw transparent people everywhere and a shadow figure staring at me through my window every night, trying to convince me to play outside."

"That… must have been terrifying for you." He said with what you couldn't quite tell was pity or sympathy as his hand tightened slightly over the cup in his hand. 

You lazily shrugged again as you leaned back in your chair to fold your arms over your chest, "Eh, I got used to it. It got easier when it was confirmed to be a part of my quirk. Turns out it was something that came from my mother's side. She couldn't see spirits, but my grandmother could. The biggest difference being the fact I have no choice over whether I see them or not. I don't have a 'veil', as they call it. A separation between the world of the living and the dead. After that, I was sent to live with my grandmother until I went to Junior High."

"They sent you away?" Todoroki's brows furrowed, looking disturbed at the thought as he crossed his arms.

"Ah! Well… when you say it like that it sounds really harsh. Though, it's true my parents really didn't know the first thing about spirits and kind of dumped me on my grandmother. It was either stay with her to learn to cope with my quirk… or potentially be on suppressors for the rest of my life. I like to think they chose the lesser of two evils. It's not like I never saw my family. In fact, my older sister practically lived with us too when she was going to high school in the area. My parents would at least call once a week if they couldn't visit. Plus, my grandmother was and still is a wonderful woman. So it wasn't so bad.", your voice softened when you spoke about your family, more specifically grandmother as memories of your time at her house boiled to the surface.

"Though, I do often wonder what my life may have been like if they decided to just put me on quirk suppressors. I definitely wouldn't have found myself in our current situation," You chuckled a bit, but it came out as a bit hollow and fake with your dimming smile.

Looking back at Todoroki, you noticed a somewhat distant look in his eyes. He was taking this pretty well so far. He even zoned in on facts of your story that nobody ever seemed to notice or care for. Yet, here he was looking potentially even more distraught than when he was bleeding.

"Uh… H-hey. Todoroki? I know it wasn't the most ideal childhood, but it's all in the past now so don't worry about it if that's what you're thinking."

This seemed to finally snap him out of his thoughts and his heterochromatic eyes met yours. A shiver ran down your spine at an intensity simmering just under the surface. 

"...I must apologize again for breaking in. You seemed… already distraught when you arrived."

"No, I…," you sighed, "I admit the comment earlier was unnecessary. Although, I think I reserve the right to be a little miffed after having my home broken into, especially in our very unique situation, that doesn't mean I should act like a bitch the whole time if we will be working together."

Todoroki shook his head, "As someone who often works with Dynamight, I know a thing or two about 'Acting like a Bitch'. You were only reacting as anyone would. In fact, I'd argue you were quite graceful with your reaction to two men breaking into your home."

"Wasn't the first time and it probably won't be the last.", You chuckled and rolled your eyes at the unfortunately true statement.

Todoroki's brows furrowed in concern again, but seemed to dismiss it for another thought he deemed more important.

"If you don't mind me asking, where were you before arriving home? What were you doing so late?" Todoroki leaned on his elbows on the table, his cup empty of tea and discarded to the side.

"Ah, I don't mind. Even the detective needs an alibi. For all you know I could be the killer. Now, that would be a real plot twist... Anyway, I was called by a Mr. Masuda around 10:30 pm tonight. He told me about the strange happenings going on in his ice cream shop. They've been having customers feeling sick, light-headed, and even faint in their shop, but found nothing that could logically explain the sudden incidents. It was clear that this was costing them severely and Mr. Masuda called me as a last resort. Admittedly, a wise choice since there really was a spirit haunting the shop and I was able to appease it."

He nodded, but continued digging for info, "Was there something about this case that made you upset?"

You felt yourself stiffen. How the hell was this guy able to pinpoint shit like this? Then again, you shouldn't underestimate the number three hero like this. 

You pursed your lips and looked down to pick at your nails, "Yeah. If I'm honest, I'm surprised you caught onto that…"

Todoroki leaned further in, slightly tilting his head as if he was trying to catch my eyes again.

"May I ask what happened?" His smooth voice spoke softly.

You were silent, contemplating telling the truth. You had to remind yourself that this wasn't something you needed to hide and if you wanted the case to go well, you needed to be as honest as possible.

You swallowed the knot in your throat.

"The spirit… She was a young girl. Six years old, if I had to guess…", you willed yourself to remain neutral as possible, "I can only guess she died recently since she was familiar with Mr. Masuda and another employee. She said her name was Chihoko Konuma and, from what I could tell with the information she gave me, she passed away in the hospital from a lung issue. Her final wish was for her mother to be happy, thus she was attached to the place where she must have had her happiest memories with her mother…"

You roughly picked at a hangnail on your forefinger, "I told her that what would make her mother happiest now was for her to no longer be in pain…She was a smart girl. She even understood her situation to a point… to look a bright, young girl in the eye and confirm that her life has been snuffed out far too soon… it's a difficult thing to do."

A large, slender hand cupped over your own. All of a sudden, you remembered where you were and who you were with. You sucked in a breath and cleared your throat. As you gently pulled your hands away from his, you noticed your forefinger had started to bleed from the nervous picking. 

Shit.

"Right. I think that's enough questions today.", you quickly stood up from your seat and swerved around the table, speeding to your bedroom. 

"The guestroom is there, just left of the bathroom. Goodnight."

You slid the door closed before Todoroki could even reply and flopped onto your bed. Stuffing a pillow to your face, you let out the most agonized groan in an attempt to ease your embarrassment. You knew sleep wouldn't come easy tonight, not with everything that happened. 

For a while you laid awake, watching as a singular white butterfly perched itself on one of the potted plants you placed out on your personal balcony. Yet, the sight seemed to help ease you into a dreamless slumber. 

Your busied mind finally finding respite. You no longer cared for your grief, your embarrassment, or your frustration. You couldn't find yourself to care that you hadn't asked him some questions like you had intended, nor could you find yourself to care for how pleasant his hand felt on yours. You only thought one thing as you fell asleep.

'She always did love butterflies.'

Taglist: @andypantsx3 @canthavetoomuchchaos @xxblackroses623xx

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

What To Do When They Dig You Up

Part... 3... ish? 4 ish? Anyway, it's not Part 2. That's still coming, but real life family issues are making it hard to deal with the scenes.

Oh, and, uh, sorry not sorry about the cliffhanger. :)

---------------

At the sound of a throat clearing, Jin Guangyao looks up from his desk to find one of the maids -not one of the ones he'd seen his father with just a short while ago, thankfully- waiting at the door to his office. "Yes?"

"Nie-gongzi is waiting at the stairs to speak with you," she says, then bows and walks away, leaving him to process the news she'd just delivered.

A small frown crosses his face and he quickly makes sure the ink in the ledger he had been writing in is dry before closing it and putting it away and then heading towards the main courtyard.

It isn't that he's unhappy to receive a visit from Huaisang, but to arrive in the middle of the night? And apparently without anyone accompanying him?

Even before the incident at his brother's wedding to Jiang-guaniang, he wouldn't have expected Huaisang to do such a thing, considering how withdrawn and tied to home he'd been since the end of the war.

He reaches the stairs to find a now-familiar masked and hooded figure being watched over by a couple of guards, who, by the looks on their faces, can't seem to decide whether to find their catch amusing or creepy.

Jin Guangyao settles the argument with a placid "You may return to your posts."

They both salute before they leave, which he finds mildly pleasing. Even if the cultivators in the sect still treat him with thinly-veiled disdain, at least the rank-and-file are beginning to appreciate just how much of the actual sect running he does.

Once they've been given enough space that no one will hear them, he turns to Huaisang.

"I'm sorry," Huaisang murmurs from behind the mask before he can even get a routine greeting out. "I thought about just finding a room at an inn and coming up in the morning, but I- it's-"

Jin Guangyao gently takes hold of Huaisang's hand. "Clearly it must be important for you to go to all this trouble. Let's go find somewhere more comfortable to talk."

Nie Huaisang gives a quick little nod, almost as if reassuring himself that what he's come to discuss is important, and follows him.

As they walk, Jin Guangyao can feel the hand he's holding tremble, so he dispenses with the usual pleasantries and small talk and simply holds it a little tighter. When they reach his room, not his office, he makes sure that Huaisang is sitting comfortably before turning away to make tea.

As he places the pot and cups on the table, Nie Huaisang reaches up and pulls back his hood, then slips his mask off and lays it beside his teacup.

"I... I know they keep you busy around here," he says so quietly that Jin Guangyao almost has to strain to hear him. "But you're the only one I can trust to ask for this."

"What is it?"

Nie Huaisang takes a rolled up piece of paper out of his sleeve and hands it over.

After he opens it, for the briefest moment, he is confused. It is a drawing similar to the brand that forced Huaisang to take up his mask-wearing habit, but more elabor-

Jin Guangyao takes a slow, measured inhale as he realizes what Nie Huaisang is asking him to do, and then, carefully, he lays the paper on the table between them. "A-Sang... you realize that without a pre-constructed brand, this is going to take quite a bit of time, don't you?"

"And you already have so much to do, I know-"

"No." He reaches across and takes hold of Nie Huaisang's hands. "I'm not bringing that up to chastise you. I'm bringing that up because even if I use every trick I have to deaden the pain, there's still a risk that you'll have to suffer for as long as it takes to add the new lines. Plus the healing period, possibly even more than one."

He watches as Nie Huaisang lowers his gaze to the table and bites his lower lip, looking so very much like the damaged little doll that had been dragged into his workroom in the Nightless City as an 'example' of the kind of things their former master had wanted him to be capable of.

A bitter stray thought enters his mind. "Does your brother have anything to do with you asking for this?"

"No. Yes? Only a little bit. We... we had a fight, and then we had a very long talk. He's... he's trying to be understanding. He is! It's just... I think he's still trying to convince himself that it'll eventually fade enough not to be a problem anymore." Huaisang pulls one of his hands back and wipes the tears starting to well up. "But it won't. So..."

"So you decided to change it into something else. Something that's not... his," Jin Guangyao murmurs, not wanting to further upset Huaisang by bringing up the name of their former master.

And Nie Huaisang nods.

And Huaisang had made the trip to Koi Tower, alone and anxious, to ask him specifically to help with such a heavy task.

A tiny dark section of his brain shivers at that knowledge. Even if Huaisang is the one who came up with the altered design, by being the one to burn it in, Jin Guangyao will be leaving an indelible mark on his flesh, his mind, and his heart.

And, unlike the mark made by a dead man he still will not name, Huaisang has asked him to do it. Landed in his hands like an injured little bird, trusting that he won't intentionally cause harm.

The sheer rush of complicated emotions that boils up about that.. it's... dizzying. Almost intoxicating.

Finding that his throat has gone dry, Jin Guangyao takes a sip of his tea before speaking. "Father is leaving in the morning for one of his... retreats," he says, causing Nie Huaisang to wince in sympathy. "And for once, I am ahead on my work. So, barring any unforeseen emergencies, we'll have at least a week to make preparations and get started."

Huaisang's breath visibly hitches, eyes going wide. "You'll do it?" he asks, sounding almost painfully hopeful.

"For you? Of course," Jin Guangyao says with a smile.

Nie Huaisang practically vaults across the table with surprising speed, barely managing to avoid knocking over the still-hot teapot and cups, before wrapping Jin Guangyao in a near-frenzied hug.

—

He winds up putting Nie Huaisang into the empty servants' room next to his own, and it's clear that having the fearful weight of wondering lifted off his back has left him exhausted, because he falls asleep almost before he even lies down.

For his own part, Jin Guangyao has more trouble dozing off, his mind buzzing too loudly.

Of course it's automatically making lists of things he'll need to acquire, people he'll need to warn away, small matters he'll have to finish up with to give them as much free time as possible over the next few days.

But also, there are little sparks of excitement flittering through those thoughts, and he's not sure whether to consider that further exhilarating or frightening. Never before had he... almost been looking forward to something like this.

Certainly not in the Fire Palace.

He finally manages to douse the sparks by reminding himself that the logistics come first. It's easy to make himself focus on that.

And easier to sleep once he does.