#I was trying to take every single valuable every one of you fuckers owned!!!

[lionsprice]

He's a criminal. He's a scoundrel. He's your Herald of Andraste

Ghil's gonna be my first non-mage on the blog, which is super funny to me, but not nearly as much as it is that his whole initial character idea was 'what if the Inquis was only at the wrong place at the wrong time bc they wanted to rob everyone?'

Also fitting that the only Dalish I've ever given Mr tiny dick sun / vengeance god's vallaslin is a bastard man

Also ALSO going to use one of the not so uncommon tropes of extinct animals in the real world of existing in micro pockets in places you wouldn't think to normally look. Ie, griffons coexisting with a Dalish clan native to the high mountain peaks of the Anderfels, who are 100% unaware that their mounts are supposed to be extinct bc they've never even seen a human before, let alone a warden.

[yeenybeanies]

4 with john wick and a borrower?

hey!! send some of these!!

4. “ what can i do to get you to trust me? ”

john wick | john wick & oxiel serrat ( oc )

1,018 words

mentions of violence, blood, and some strong language

reblogs > likes!! enjoy!!

Careful. Hands up. The little being meets John’s eyes with a fiery glare. It burns almost hot enough to conceal their fear.

Who wouldn’t be afraid here? A human would probably soil themself at the sight: John Wick, notorious hitman, covered in blood largely not his own, still fresh from the literal room-full of men he’d dispatched single-handedly with minimal injury to himself. 

The little one isn’t human, though. They’re far smaller, perhaps four or five inches tall. They look like they’ve been through their own hell, clothing left in scraps, skin dirtied and bruised. They look like a used and abused lab rat. Hell, they probably are––or that’s what they likely were before John showed up.

“ I just killed twenty men in this room alone, ”  John says.  “ These guys hurt you, right? “ 

The little one nods, a motion almost unseen to the man.

“ Well they’re not going to hurt you anymore. ” 

“ How do I know you didn’t come to do even worse things to me, ”  they say. Their tail––Christ, they have a tail?––lashes once, agitated. It’s a fair question. Judging by the number of armed guards John had to get through before he came across them, he imagines they’re a pretty damn valuable asset.

Why?

He has no damn idea.

“ I guess you don’t. But if you were why I’m here, I probably would have just taken your whole cage with you in it, instead of wasting time talking to you. ” 

This quiets the little one for a long moment. They ponder in silence, still glaring their daggers at John. He sighs.

“ Look, I’m not here for you. I didn’t know that you were here––or that things like you existed to begin with. If you don’t want to come with me, that’s fine. I understand. ”  He takes a step towards the cage. The little one skitters backwards with a hiss and a few more lashes of their tail.  “ I don’t have time to stick around, so I’ll just open this door and let you go on your own way. ”  And he does. Despite their hissing and glaring, John unlocks the cage and pulls the door open.

For a long moment, the little one doesn’t move.

Fine. It’s not John’s business. This isn’t his mission.

He gives them a nod, then straightens his jacket and heads for the door. Not two seconds after exiting the room, a blood-curdling scream of pain howls behind him. John pauses mid-step, hand to his holstered pistol. He’s familiar with these types of screams, having been the cause of a hundred in the past hour alone. He pulls his gun and backpedals, shoulder to the door, and slowly pushes it open.

There are two things he does not expect to see: one is one of the goons he’d previously dispatched still alive; and two is him on the floor, screaming, foaming at the mouth, and gripping his bleeding hand. John’s brows furrow in confusion. His eyes dart from the man to the cage and the little being now standing just outside it, their mouth reddened with blood. They lock eyes with him.

“ Don’t try to grab me. I will bite, ”  they say. 

John’s attention returns to the man, no longer screaming, and now bleeding from every facial orifice. He’s stopped moving. His bloodshot eyes stare blankly into the distance.

The little fucker must pack one helluva bite. That’d explain their condition and circumstance.

“ Duly noted, ”  John says. Carefully, slowly, and with hands up once more, John approaches the little one.  “ So if I don’t try to grab you, you won’t bite me, right? ” 

They look at him warily. No answer.

John swallows down any nervousness and lowers one hand to the table a couple of feet away from the little one. Still they stare at him, tail lashing.

“ If I go through that door again, I’m not going to come back a second time, ”  he says. 

It takes another moment of thought and hesitation, but the little one makes a decision and approaches his hand. John steels himself as he’s always done when faced with danger, suppressing the urge to flinch away as they take their first step into his palm.

This is like inviting a rattlesnake onto his person.

The little one kneels in his hand, one of their own little hands braced against his thumb for stability. Carefully, John lifts them and brings them closer to eye level. It’s clear they don’t trust him, and he’s not sure he trusts them either.

“ Seriously, don’t bite me, ”  he says. Up close, he can see their features better. They look largely human, save for the size and the tail and––are those pointed ears? What the hell are they? 

No time to play twenty questions right now.

John brings his hand to a pocket on the inside of his jacket.

“ No way, ”  the little one says quickly.

“ I can guarantee you that I’m going to have to cut through some more guards before we get out of here. I need both hands, and you’d fall off of my shoulder. Not to mention, you might be seen. ”  He tips his hand towards the pocket, making the little one scramble and cling on for purchase. They open their mouth, showing several jagged teeth, which makes John pause.

“ Hey. I’m not grabbing you. No biting. This is the best option you’ve got. ”  Never mind his rising heart rate. John does not want to find out first hand what the little one’s bite does to a person. Just seeing it was enough for him.

The little one looks down into the pocket, then back up at John. They look pissed, but they do reluctantly loosen their hold and slide down into the dark space.

“ I hate this, ”  they say, tiny voice muffed under the fabric. 

“ I’m not thrilled about it either, ”  John mutters, more to himself than to them.

They’ve wasted too much time. John tucks his jacket back into place, fully aware of the new weight it carries, and heads once more for the door.

This is going to be one of his more interesting escapes.

[emmettblack]

He’s home alone when he gets the call. Vida’s out running errands as Emmett waits for her, watching TV with Bart and Gilly resting beside him. He doesn’t answer the first call, the screen showing his uncle's name. It’s probably nothing he thinks to himself until the second call. From his father. Something is wrong and they need him.

He answers but doesn’t get the chance to say anything. His father’s words stopped him from doing so. The phone call lasts for only thirty seconds before his father hangs up, leaving Emmett to just sit there with a tight jaw and expressionless eyes. Even with his two cats meowing and trying to get his attention, he doesn’t hear a single thing. All he can hear is his father’s words.

“We need you, Ji-Hun. It’s time for you to leave.”

tw: death (ish), violence, kashia’s bullshit

Emmett and Vida do live peacefully together! Okay, they do have their ups and downs every once in a while but they’re strong and continue dating. He’s happy, they’re both happy.

Unfortunately Polo dies in December of 2021. Emmett is heartbroken and doesn’t get another fish afterwards. No one can replace his favorite fishboy.

Treats Bart and Gilly as his actual children, probably loves them more than he loves Vida ( which is saying a lot ).

Three years into being a spy and Emmett finds himself no longer loving the job as much. It’s nice and all but it doesn’t… feel right. The only person to know of this is his grandfather who visits alongside Emmett’s grandmother. The two go out for lunch to talk about life and Emmett reveals this to the older man. His grandfather asks him the question “ are you sure this is what you want to do? “ Emmett is unable to answer him, his grandfather doesn’t push him. They move on from the topic and it’s never brought up again.

If you don’t think Emmett is considering proposing to Vida then you’re dead wrong! It’s on his mind but he just doesn’t have the courage to ask her. He’s waiting for the perfect moment to ask her, he just doesn’t know when.

So that phone call? Yeah, he gets it on August 24th, 2027. After that his entire vibe is just off. He doesn’t tell Vida about it, he can’t even though he wants to. Everything within him wants to tell her but he can’t do that.

It takes him a month to get everything ready. He puts in his two weeks notice with MI6 and asks them to keep it a secret. He doesn’t pack any clothes, leaves behind all electronics and cards as he disappears when Vida isn’t home. He has to cover all of his tracks so that no one is able to track him, mainly his girlfriend. His family gives him a new phone with a new number, a plane ticket, and a new identity. Emmett Blackthorne is gone.

BEFORE YOU CONTINUE READING!!!! This part of Emmett’s life will be roleplayed ( idk where aigaojgao ) so it might not be exactly like this rip. But either way, here’s a basic summary of what I want to happen. So please enjoy!!

He moves to South Korea and goes by a new name Yoon Woo-Jin. His parents suggested that he goes by his Korean name and mother’s maiden name, Cho Ji-Hun. However, he goes against it only because he knew that Vida would find him like that. He gets a place to himself and immediately starts working.

His mission? To help an old family friend destroy a new gang from the inside out. While new, the group is stronger than others and growing at a rapid rate. Said gang has been starting problems, doing everything in their power to take control of everyone within their vicinity. Emmett is to not only take down this gang by creating a rapport with them but to put the group into their place. Remind them to stay in their lanes and not to disrespect those older than them.

It’s not too bad, the mission. The worst part is the lack of communication. He’s not allowed to reach out to any of his friends, only his parents, his mother’s family, and those within the gang. He knows Vida’s number better than he knows his own. Almost texts and calls her throughout his entire stay. Drunk him can’t be trusted, he legit almost called her to confess everything. Stops himself every single time.

On Vida’s end, she’s going crazy. Ever since his disappearance, she’s been trying to find him. From asking around at work, reaching out to their friends, and even his family. The Blackthornes say nothing despite knowing where he is. No matter what she does or tries to look for, she can’t find him. For six months, she tries to find him, using every single one of her resources until there’s nothing left. It’s when she comes to a stop still that someone does reach out to her, Sunbin Blackthorne. Emmett’s mother.

During those six months, Emmett has risen in his ranks. He makes himself a useful and valuable asset. He poses as a dedicated member who will do anything for the leader, a man without a family, that’s Yoon Woo-Jin. The complete opposite of the family originated and fun loving Emmett Blackthorne. This new persona is quiet, keeps to himself, and does what he’s told. The leader likes that a lot about him, Woo-Jin is the man for him.

The only problem with him climbing the ranks so quickly is that people grow suspicious of him. They try to look into him, they watch him closely, and follow him wherever he goes. Emmett is forced to be even more careful and cautious of what he does and where he goes. Besides, at this rate, the gang will be destroyed within a few more months. He just has to hold off until then.

But not everything goes like he wants it to when Vida Torres arrives. He gets back to his apartment after a fight with another group where he sees her. Still as beautiful as ever, even as she glares at him with red eyes. He doesn’t give her a chance to talk before he pulls her in for a hug. He cries, she cries, they go inside his apartment. Unknown to the two are the peering eyes that watch the pair walk into the apartment.

Comes to find out that it was his mother who told Vida everything, the older woman giving in because she felt bad. To be left out of the loop about your partner’s whereabouts and mission, it was unfair and she didn’t deserve that. Apologies and a lot of yelling later, he tells her everything. “Just a month or two and I’ll be done. I’ll go back to you, I promise,” is what he tells her as he holds onto her tight. He only needed one more month and he’ll be fine.

Word about him having a girl got out, the other members teasing him about it. He can take petty and dumb teasing but he does not tolerate disgusting comments about the love of his life. One guy tries it, another member at the same ranking as Emmett. He doesn’t appreciate it, he attacks the guy. The two come out of the fight with bruises, a busted lip, and a black eye on the other guy. To the gang, Woo-Jin is always calm and doesn’t bother listening to any of them. Yet here he is, attacking one of them because of something they said about his girl. It’s called he’s in love you fuckers! This doesn’t go well, the other guy is pissed and he’s holding a grudge. Remember him everyone.

As for Emmett and Vida, well, he doesn’t tell her to leave. Honestly, he loves her company. Nor does he tell her to be careful, she’s a spy. If anyone tries to come for her, she’ll take care of them. He takes Vida to meet his mother’s side of the family. The Cho’s own a small restaurant, it’s really cute and homey. They’re a bunch of civilians who aren’t aware of the Blackthorne's true profession but they do know that the family is rich. It’s nice, the two feel normal being with them.

Unknown to the couple, the man that Emmett attacked is known as Lee Sang-Woo is already planning his revenge. He’s not a fan of this newbie climbing the rankings so quickly. Instead of attacking Emmett directly, he tries to find out who he is. By that, he wants to know where he came from and if he’s actually loyal to the group. Ends up finding a trace to the man that Emmett is really working for. Nam Do-Hun, the leader of a well established mafia with ties in the political world in South Korea and minor influences in the entertainment business. The Nam family are a group that had issues with this gang constantly entering their terrority. Using Emmett to destroy them from the inside is just a lot easier and cleaner to do than having them all killed.

But because of this small trace, it gets bad for Emmett and now Vida who’s staying with him. Instead of attacking the two, Sang-Woo and the gang leader set up a plan. The plan is to give Emmett a reason to contact the Nam family and have them meet him somewhere. Probably has him escort or watch over the gang leader. He falls for the bait because he’s been waiting for this moment.

The Nam family arrives but waiting for them is the gang. Big bad, a fight breaks out. Emmett, who is usually a king when fighting, is getting JUMPED by the gang leadr and Sang-Woo. But guess who comes to his rescue? You guessed it, the love of his life Vida <3. They’re literally kicking ass together because they’re SOULMATES.

During the middle of this big ol’ fight, Emmett sees Vida just kicking ass and he just blurts how much he loves her. And asks her to marry him. While people are fighting around them. While gunshots are being fired. She says yes. They kiss, they then go back to fighting.

The mission successfully ends but with casualties. Many were injured, some to the point where they were to be hospitalized. But either way, Emmett’s mission to destroy said gang comes to an end and he’s able to return home with Vida.

They get married :) It’s really cute, they’re both so happy, everyone is happy for them.

Emmett stops being a spy and goes down the route of assassination. Years later he becomes the new Blackthorne head. He loves it here <3

I KNOW THAT DEANNA AND HECATE WANT SATOMI AND TOMMY TO REOPEN BLACKTHORNE AND I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW!!!! EMMETT AGREES AND HELPS WITH REBUILDING THE SCHOOL. I can’t say much about it because I don’t know anything <3 Just know that he’s happy

Him and Vida have a lot kids! Most are children that they adopt, idk how many pls ask strud. The torthorne kids get to decide on if they want to become spies, assassins, or just civilians.

Very happy with his wife and children. Simply refuses to die and leave them behind so he works extra hard during each mission ( sometimes he comes back a mess but who cares <3 He’s alive )

Dies of old age <3

I love my son.

[fawad-khan]

Together Always

A/N: hey guys, this is a part of @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh 's 1k writing challenge, congratulations again, queen K! I hope you enjoy. I’m so sorry for the delay hvfuuvcurv, i hope you enjoy! This is my longest yet, if this flops, i will be angy :)

Masterlist

Pairing- Harry Holland x reader

Warning- some angst maybe? mentions of hospital, nothing too gory, maybe swearing here and there

Word Count- 3.5k+ (woohoo!)

Prompt- “Marriage? Pass”

Prompt will be in bold

Summary- you finally realize why people choose to go ahead and take a long term committment with each other.

(At age 10)

You were sitting on a park bench alone, crying by yourself. No one was around, for you were sitting in a quiet and empty part of the park. Your head was bent to your knees, which you had brought closer to your chest. You were so engrossed in your own sorrow that you did not notice two identical faces catching your sight and walking towards you, wondering what was wrong.

"Hey, what happened? Are you alright?" You heard a voice in front of you and looked up, seeing two twin boys standing in front of you. One of them had curly hair, while the other had straighter hair.

"Well no, I'm not in a really good mood right now." You replied meekly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" The curly haired boy asked. You let out a sniffle and wiped your wet eyes. They sat down beside you, the curly haired boy sitting on your left and patting your hand for comfort, and the straight haired boy sitting by your right.

"Well, uh it's just that my mommy an-and my daddy they do-don't want to live with each o-other anymore and are getting a d-divorce."

"Oh, uh that's really sad to hear. Do you know exactly why this happened though? Like do they fight or anything?"

"Harry, don't ask her all that! She will tell us if she wants to."

"It's ok, uh they kind of fight a lot everyday and I overhear them saying they cannot live like this and all, I guess." You said, smiling sadly. "Now I have to decide who I want to live with. It's gonna be a bit hard for me." You sniffled again, making the boy named Harry (you guessed when the other boy called him) rub your arm in comfort.

"Well if you ever have any difficulties, we don't live very far from here. You can always come and maybe live with us, if our mum agrees with it."

"No no, I don't wanna burden you like that, but uh sounds nice!"

"Oh and I'm Harry, he's my twin Sam." He said, pointing to the straight haired boy.

"I'm (y/n)." You said, shaking their hands. Little did your 10 year old self know at the time that their friendship would make a tremendous difference in your life.

----

(6 years have passed)

It has been 6 years. You decided to finally move in with your dad, partly because he was kind of a better parent to you and partly because his house was near the Hollands, which made it easier for you to see the twins more often.

Ever since that day, you had become great friends with Harry and Sam. Of course, through them, you also met Tom and Paddy and their parents, and they were the sweetest people you ever met. They helped you go through your parents divorce, as it is always very difficult for a small child to go through such things alone. They were like a second family to you. Tom kind of became like a protective older, while Paddy was like a little brother.

Harry and Sam were your best friends, of course. They never failed to always keep you happy and amused, especially when they did a lot of silly things on purpose.

Harry never failed to pull you out of your blues. No matter what it was, he always managed to get a smile out of you every single day. He made you feel warm and fuzzy every time it was just the two of you together. You often accompanied him whenever he would do some casual photoshoots, as you were a great help to him, giving valuable tips, helping him choose a perfect scene, etc.

Of course, as you grew older, puberty was obviously very much favourable to all of you. Harry was no longer the cute little boy with a baby voice, you were no longer the small girl with a doll face. Harry grew more tall, his muscular features become more and more prominent. His voice had become deeper, which you found pleasant to hear all day long. Not to mention, he was more attractive as well, so naturally he often attracted the attention of girls in school which often made you jealous.

Sam of course grew up to be a very charming and handsome lad as well, quite like his twin. His cooking skills had improved a lot too. But, the bond between the two of you was more platonic. You felt a deeper connection with Harry, something more than friendship. You were still wary of a long term committed relationship, given that you had gone through your parents divorce, but that did not stop you from daydreaming about what it would be like if you and Harry were together.

----

(Age 17)

It was your senior prom and your date had turned out to be a bitch, deciding to never show up at your house to pick you up. He had messaged you about having caught the flu, and right when you were about to just give up and stay in at home instead, Sam insisted that you come to prom anyway. What you did not know was Harry had not managed to get a date, so he just decided to show up solo. He had been hoping to ask you, but seeing that you got a date already, he decided to just go by himself.

So when he saw you alone and dateless, looking absolutely impeccable and breathtaking in your body hugging purple dress that ended above your knees and hair opened save for a small braid in the side, he decided to take this chance and go for it.

You had seen him too, looking so handsome in his tuxedo. How you were mentally wishing that you both would be together instead. The way his curls flopped despite his best efforts to keep them tidy only made him seem hotter in your eyes.

"What happened? Todd ain't here?" He asked, referring to your date.

"Na, he's had a bout of flu, at least that's what he says."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I dunno, I guess I just kinda had this coming you know, maybe I'm not meant to have a nice date to a dance and have fun. Ah, just my luck."

"Come on, any guy would be lucky to be with you."

"Yeah right." At that moment, his eyes fell on a couple who had entered the ballroom, and when he realised who it was, his blood boiled and his fingers were clenched as he tried to control the urge to just go and punch him.

You could feel him tense up beside you, and looking at his face, you could sense something wasn't right. His face held an agitated expression.

"What's the matter, Harry?" You asked, concerned.

"I hate to tell you this, but uh looks like Todd is in perfect health." He mumbled.

"Wait whatever do you mean?"

"See for yourself." He pointed you in the direction where he was looking, and to your immense surprise, there was Todd all suited up, getting quite cozy with some random chick who was in a dress slightly shorter than the prescribed dress code. You could feel your blood boiling. The audacity of the motherfucker to lie like this and then just show up like that, you couldn't control the rage building in you.

Before Harry could stop you, you stormed your way towards the couple, who were now making out in a corner and ripped them apart. The chick had barely uttered a word when you gave him one tight slap.

"Fucking bastard, so this is your flu? How did I even agree to you, you son of a bitch?!" You shouted out so loud that now the whole hall of students was staring at this scene. Harry finally came behind you and held your shoulders in an attempt to calm you down.

"Hey hey hey, just leave that fucker alone, okay" he whispered in your ear and dragged you away from them towards the drinks table. He handed you a cold drink and you gulped half the drink in one sip, which helped you to calm down.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly, holding your hand for comforting you.

"Yeah, I'm fine just, I should've expected this would happen, I guess. I don't think boyfriend and all is meant for me." You said, feeling a small lump in your throat as you felt tears in your eyes.

"Hey hey hey, now don't say all that." He lifted your chin up and looked into your eyes. "Don't cry over that wanker. You wanna dance with me?" He held out his hand, waiting for your answer. You wiped your tears and smiled at him, taking his hand, which he took as yes.

He took you to the dance floor and held you by the waist, pulling you closer towards him. Some slow music was playing. You held his shoulders and rested your head on his chest, swaying slowly to the music. The space between the two of you was not that prominent now, and you could hear your heart beat very loud and felt that Harry could probably hear it too.

He was feeling sorry. Sorry that you were made upset by a total jerk, but at the same time glad because that was the reason he was here, holding you close, dancing with the prettiest girl he knew, the girl he had liked over the years. He could smell sweet shampoo from your hair, mixed with some perfume you had applied, lulling him into a trance of you.

The beat of the music changed as the DJ changed into another song with faster rhythm, making you pull away from each other as you matched to the rhythm. He accompanied too, although he wasn’t too great of a dancer, but he still looked cute trying to match your moves, making you giggle at him. You danced to a few more songs, before you felt a little hungry and thirsty, signalling Harry who was feeling the same. You went to the snack counter and got some snacks for both of you, while he got the drinks. You quickly chugged the drink and snacks at once, making him laugh, you following suit.

“Thanks for this Harry, I’m really enjoying prom.”

“You’re welcome, love.” you froze a little at that nickname. Love, huh. You’d love to get used to that nickname. You just smiled in response.

The rest of the prom just went in a blur. All that you really remembered and cared about was when you sneaked out of the party and took a walk in the park. You both were just walking side by side, hands brushing every now and then. Harry suddenly stopped and let out a deep breath.

“Hey, (y/n)?”

“Yeah Harry?”

He cupped your cheeks and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on your lips, catching you off guard. Slowly you melted into the kiss, moving your lips against his soft ones. He pulled away from you, eyes closed and pressed his forehead against yours, hands still cupping your cheeks.

"Would this be a good time to say that I like you? Like maybe we could be something more?" His eyes slowly opened, looking into your (y/e/c) eyes, both of you knew the answer.

"Yes Harry, I'd love that." You said smiling, making him grin from ear to ear. He leaned in again to kiss you harder, one hand still on your cheek while the other pulled you closer by the waist to practically press into his chest. Your hands went around his neck as you kissed him harder as well, with more passion, as if letting out all of the tension into it. Needless to say, this was your happiest memory of your lives.

----

(Age 23)

You never thought that you'd be in a relationship this long, but here you were, six years later. Harry was now a professional photographer and often had lots of photoshoots lined up for him. You had decided to take up journalism, as you were fond of writing a lot and often wrote plenty of articles in your school days.

You both now lived together in an apartment of your own, not very far from the Hollands'. You were both busy in your professional lives, but always found time for each other as well. You’d maybe go out on dates to a restaurant or to the movies, or have a night in having a movie night or just do something goofy or have some fun ;)

He has always made you feel complete. Neither of you really felt the pressure to go to the next step, which was marriage, or well so you thought. Harry would lie if he said that it didn’t occur to him. However, he knew that you weren’t ready just yet. He did not mind much, so as long as he could be with you all his life.

You were sitting and having tea with one of your colleagues Sally, who was also a good friend of yours. You were just sitting and discussing stuff about some work and boyfriends, bitching away about some stupid colleagues in your office.

“Oh also, I have something to say.” she said in a very excited voice.

“Oooh what is it?” you asked, curious as to what she was going to say. She simply squeeled a little and  thrust her left hand in front of your eyes and you saw a beautiful silver princess cut diamond cut ring on her ring finger. You covered your mouth, a big smile on your face. You gave her a big hug. You were so happy for her.

“Oh my god, Ricky proposed? I cannot believe this! When did this happen?”

“It happened this morning! He did it when I woke up! Isn’t he so amazing?”

“Of course Sal, I’m so happy for you!”

You could not, however, feel a panging in your heart. It felt a little like a longing pain, as if you would love for something like this to happen. You had no intentions to settle for a long term commitment like a marriage, but maybe, just maybe, there was a teeny tiny part in you that perhaps wanted that with Harry.

“So what about you and Harry? Are you guys planning to marry any time soon?” she asked cheekily. You gave a clamped smile.

“Marriage? Pass.” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though your voice quivered a bit.

“Are you sure though hun? I mean, you and Harry have been going strong for years now. Don’t you even think about it sometimes?” 

You gulped. She was kind of right.

“I don’t know, maybe? Ok, yes maybe I’ve thought of this a few times.” you paused to take a sip of your coffee and continued, “well actually speaking, I have some issues to be in a long term commitment. So far, I am kinda surprised that I’ve been in a relationship this long, although Harry is really amazing. It’s just that, I don’t want that if we marry then something happens, creating a wedge between us, and then we have to split up. Like, in the case of my parents as well, who couldn’t wait to leave each other. I guess, I’m just scared of that happening, that’s all.”

“Oh I see. Hey, its normal to feel scared of what may happen in the future. I would be lying too if I said that I’m scared too. But sometimes, we just have to go for it, you know? Life is a roller coaster, yes, but if you find the right person to spend it with, then you’ll be ready to face them.” she held your hand to give you assurance. You let out a breath and nodded in agreement.

“Thank you so much, Sal. Also congratulations again! I’m so happy for you!” you hugged her again and headed towards your bike to go back to your apartment, Sally’s words never leaving your mind.

----

(many weeks later)

You were sitting in your office cubicle, editing an article on your computer. Suddenly you saw Sam’s name flashing on your phone as it buzzed since you had put it on silent. Sensing that something was up, since he never called you while you were at work unless it was an emergency, you picked up the phone, a “hello?” leaving your mouth. If you were not mistaken, you could hear him crying.

“Sam? What happened? Is everything okay?” you asked, getting worried.

“Oh (y/n), come to the hospital quickly. Harry’s been admit-ted.” he stuttered, followed by more cries. Your hand flew to your mouth, you went into a shock. Harry? In the hospital? Was he ok? With so many questions buzzing in your mind, you managed to mutter a quick yes and got up from your desk, gathering your bag and telling your boss briefly that you needed to go to the hospital urgently, to which he agreed. You quickly climbed on your bike and drove to the hospital, which was thankfully not very far off.

You went to the receptionist, where Sam was standing, waiting for you. Seeing you walk towards him, he just gave you a hug, tears dropping from his eyes. You hugged back, trying your best to soothe your best friend by patting on his back.

“It’s ok Sam. Where is he?” your voice was suddenly high as you choked back your tears. He just led you to a hospital room, where Tom was sitting beside the hospital bed, face tear stained. He gave you a small and faint smile when he saw you. Your eyes finally fell on Harry, who was lying on the bed, his eyes closed. The heart monitor was bleeping, he had an oxygen mask on his face. Many wires were attached to his left hand, for medicine and blood supplies. He had some bandages on his left arm and his left leg as well.

“Wh-what exactly h-happened?” you stuttered, tears spilling from your eyes. 

“He got into a crash, and got injured. The doctor said that he hasn’t suffered too many injuries, but he is yet to gain consciousness.” Tom said, voice still shaking. “We’re all just waiting for him to wake up.”

You took a seat beside the bed and held his right hand, which did not have any needles. You muttered a silent prayer for him to get well soon. You stroked his hair as he kept on sleeping peacefully.

----

Harry finally regained consciousness two days later. You all were so happy and relieved. The doctor also gave good news that he was better and would be good to go in two more days, as he had to do some minor check ups. You were relieved that he was going to be alright. You had been so afraid to lose him, as you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He had been your support all your life. 

Oh. Oh. A realization hit you. He was your whole life. You did not want to spend your life without him. This episode of almost losing him had made you realize it. You quickly made your way towards Harry’s room, where he was just lying awake. Sam was telling him something, and he had an amused look on his face.

“Hey, babe. How are you feeling?”

“Better. How’re you?”

“I’m great. Hey, could I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah sure, (y/n/n) what is it?”

You took a deep breath. “So uhh, I’ve actually been thinking ever since we almost lost you. I don’t know, but it got me thinking. You know how I’ve always been wary of the idea of marriage, as I have always feared that what happened to my parents, would happen to us, which is not what I want. But umm, I’ve realized that I never wanna lose you, ever. I cannot imagine a life without you with me. Also, what Sally said to me the other day, made me realize that you are indeed the right person for me.”

“Oh my- wow (y/n) so, are you saying that um, that umm you’d consider taking the next step?” he asked, hoping you’d say yes.

“Yes Harry.” you tucked a hair strand behind your hair, took his hand in yours and continued, “so Harry, I know this is probably not the place to say this, we’re in a friggin hospital” he chuckled as you smiled and continued, “but maybe, when time comes, and I’m hoping it comes soon enough, do you wanna consider maybe going further? Like, be together forever?”

“You have no idea how much I’ve waited for this.”

“Is that a yes?”

He just pulled you towards him in response and caressed your cheek, attaching his lips to yours. You kissed him back gladly, smiling into the kiss. He pulled away and stroked his finger on your hand, whispering a “yes”, a goofy grin on his face.

The End

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[volleyball-dontknowher]

Hey! Can i request an NSFW Alphabet w/ Coach Ukai? I just started following your blog, and man i am hooked. You truly are an exceptional writer 💖 do keep up the good work! Gambatte~

I'm so glad you like my writing 🥰🥰

Thank you for the request!!! It was fun because damn Ukai is hot

Words: 2.1k

Requests are open 

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He makes sure that you are comfortable(and completely satisfied, if not he’ll be back at it ready for another round), he grabs you one of his shirts (that smells like him and that he doesn’t mind not getting back), and gives you a heartfelt kiss and becomes a total softie. He loves you a lot and just likes to cherish you and just kiss every part of you. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his chest, he loves how perfectly you fit on top of it and end up falling asleep there, how buff he still is gives him a good ego boost. He also adores how he can hover over you and completely cover your entire body with his, and when you are riding him you can put you hands on his chest as support and it completely works. 

On you he loves your collar bones, he loves how they poke out just a little, he likes to nip at them and leave little hickeys on them because it is easy to cover up for the most part but if your shirt moves just a little bit then everyone is going to know. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He has a total breeding kink and would love to cum inside of you and just sit with him inside you for an extra minute or two just to keep it all in and if some leaks out he is going to lazily finger it back inside of you because he just thinks it’s so fucking hot knowing that you are filled with his cum, sometimes he’s going to cum inside of you then have you get back dressed and walk around with his cum still in you. He also cannot help but let out the deepest loudest moan you’ve ever heard when you swallow, he loves knowing that you swallowed for him and then you sucked him dry and then cleaned the rest off, do that and he is going to do whatever you ask, he is totally whipped 

When he eats you out he is going to lick every last drop of your cum because he wound’t waste any of it, to him it is like fucking gold and he enjoys it every time. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He would absolutely be down for a threesome and would love to see you choking on another man’s cock while he pounds into you 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The man is a sex god, he knows exactly what he is doing and how to make you a screaming moaning mess below him, he is talented with his hands, mouth and dick and he uses all three to completely wreck you. He knows what a woman likes and is going to give it to you,

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He is going to be willing to try almost every position but to him nothing beats you face down ass up, he loves pounding into you from behind and hearing you try and muffle your moans into a pillow. He also loves any position where he can clearly see your face and watch your face change as he destroys you. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He is completely serious, he wants to make you cum as many times as he can and make you feel as good as possible, he is not going to crack jokes because he’s not confident that anything he says is ever funny and he wouldn’t ever want to ruin the mood. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The carpet is brown like his natural hair and is going to be well groomed like his hair, he likes to keep it a little bit longer because it makes him feel like a man but also likes to think about you giving him a blowjob and keeps it short enough that you can deepthroat him and not worry about his hair. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In the moment he is a total dom and is focused on making sure that both of you are as horny as possible and are completely into it. He will be talking dirty and even be a little degrading calling you a whore and his little slut, but afterwards he is going to be all sweet nothing’s and little kisses. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Now that he has you he doesn't jack off as often but when he does he is typically away with the team and in the shower (where none of the boys could ever find him) and he is going to be thinking of you and going fast and hard imagining you under him or even that his hand was yours. He is going to take a while to cum because it is not the same as having you there and sometimes he is going to send you videos or call you so you can help him out. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He has a total daddy kink, a praise kink, he loves edging and overstimulation (on you), as well as lingerie and roleplay. He is a kinky mother fucker and will be turned on by almost everything you do. He is a total dom and is going to be all over you telling you how “you look so fucking hot” under him and that you “were made for his cock” he is the king of dirty talk and is going to be a nasty motherfucker 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He loves doing it anywhere, he loves his bedroom, the shower, his car, the shop literally anywhere he can bone you he is going to, if he had to choose probably the shower because it’s super easy clean up. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He gets turned on by every single thing you do. He loves when you smile for him, when you dress nicely, when you compliment him literally anything. He is going to also be super turned on when he gets jealous, he likes to put you in your place. If you lay in bed and moan his name he is going to lose it then and there, if you lean in and whisper it in his ear he is going to stop what he’s doing and make sure that is the only thing you can remember. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would not roleplay a teacher/high school student with you he gets weirded out and cannot do it, but if you pretend he’s a college professor and call him that he is totally down. He also will not let you leave marks that the boys could see, he is madly in love with you but he also wants to be a good role model and doesn’t want to hear their shit. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He would rather receive if he’s being honest, something about seeing you on your knees in front of him is better than every fantasy he could ever think of, he is going to be the type to let you have control at first then end up thrusting into your mouth while moaning all of the dirty things he is going to do to you when you are done.

THis doesn’t mean that he is not for eating you out though, he fucking loves it with his whole heart but he likes to save it for special occasions and eat you out until you are screaming and shaking beneath him. He is going to keep going until you have cum at least three times for him. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be both. He likes it fast and rough when he is in a dominant mood and just wants you to submit to him so he can please you both. It is rare for him to be slow and sensual but after a long day or an exciting win he is going to take his time pleasing you and showing you how valuable you are to him. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes. All the damn time he is going to push your panties aside and have his way with you all the time, you look at him the right way and bam you’re getting dick. He also loves them before he goes to practice because it helps him not lose his cool with the boys. He doesn’t like to wait for sex so he is going to take you then and there and then again when you both get home 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He would take you anywhere if he was eh 60% sure you wouldn’t get caught, on his store counter, in the teachers restroom at the high school, in the back seat of his car, yessir. He is willing to try almost everything if you are, he is going to see things online and fall in love with the idea and try it with you, half of the time it is awful and you are both over it but the other half it is sexy and intimate. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)’

The man has a lot of experience and is going to have the stamina to show for it, he typically likes to go two rounds and can last forever. He never skips on foreplay for you so you end up cuming more than he does but when he does he is going to need a few minutes to get hard again and is going to spend that time pampering you and making you feel good. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

On you he is going to use any and everything, the man will use a vibrator on you and tie you to the bed to watch you squirm and moan and without warning is going to thrust into you. Handcuffs, blindfolds and restraints can be used on either of you. He will not let you use a dildo, the only thing going in you should be him. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is a huge tease, if he knows that you are horny he is going to do a lot of little things to keep you wanting him, he likes to leave lots of little touches or quick neck kisses to show you that he wants it too but isn’t going to give it to you. He is also going to be a huge tease in the bedroom, he likes to trace his hands up and down your thighs and get them really close to you but waits to actually touch you until you beg for him, the same goes with his mouth and his dick, if you want it you better be begging for it. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn’t as loud as you are but he is definitely the type to let out little moans and groans between praises. He likes for you to be able to hear how you make him feel too. He is going to get louder as the night goes on and will unapologetically moan and curse for every thrust when he gets close. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He once tried to see if he could bleach his pubes like he does his hair after he was single for a long time and kinda loved the look and does it occasionally. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big man big dick, like an 8.5 with a thick base and he knows how to use it 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Whenever you want it do it he will totally be down, he can do it all the time, would at least like for two to three times a week but would absolutely love to do it every single night with you. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't fall asleep unless you are asleep right next to him or on top of him. He likes to lay there and just watch you sleep and just loves the calm and peaceful moments between the two of you, but when he falls asleep he is completely out and will end up lightly snoring. 

[hisunshiine]

Money Heist | knj | Part 2

moodboard 1 | moodboard 2 | playlist | Netflix ReImagined BTS Masterlist

↳ #NetflixReImaginedBTS: Kim Namjoon x Reader starring in a bank robbery au

↳ M-18+, implied sexual content, major character deaths, bank robbery actions (violence, use of weapons, deciet)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Money Heist Masterlist | Heathfritillary (author)

The world around me began to collapse. Brick by brick, the space I had occupied for a month began to fall apart. The foundation was shaking beneath my feet. This was it. There was no place I could run or hide. Like a mouse caught in a maze, I was trapped inside the walls of the Bank of Korea.

The enemy was about to enter. Blasting through a wall in the basement, I could hear faint and muffled voices shouting on the other side as my mind attempted to comprehend the explosion that occurred right before my eyes. The ferocious ringing in my ear made me light-headed as I fell on the floor, clutching on to the L85 as I crawled, evading the bullets that kept shooting toward me before I hid behind a metal object.

Every inch of me shook, my heart pounded against my chest, reaching its breaking point while I desperately tried to collect my accelerated breath. There was no way in hell they were going to take me. I would never surrender.

The sound of Gwacheon’s voice shouting my name pulled me out of the mind-numbing situation I had caught myself in. Senses were slowly recovering as I caught his gesture. He kept waving, leading me to safety beside him but I knew I could not make it over to him. One of those bullets was inevitably going to meet my flesh.

“I can’t,” I shouted before taking a quick glance at my surroundings, “The hostages fled,” I explained. Gwacheon had asked for more hostages, preferably the strongest men, to assist him to create a way for us to escape the bank unscathed. But I had stupidly gone by myself. Despite the big gun in my hands, they overpowered me and as soon as I thought they would shoot me, the explosion happened and they ran through the wall the police had created.

“Damn it, London!” I watched him as he began to fire back, ignoring one of the Professor’s sacred rules to successfully pull off the heist, ‘no casualties’. He kept firing his weapon, disabling the authorities from entering and momentarily ceasing fire. I rushed over to him, “Are you hurt?” he asked out of breath as he hastily began to add more ammo to his gun.

I nodded as I attempted to shake off the close encounter. Had I been closer to the wall, I was certain that those heavy bricks would have buried me. The grace of God was the reason why I was still breathing.

➰

Gwacheon and I separated as we escaped the basement. I heard another explosion and figured that he had managed to block off anyone trying to enter the bank from below us. Before we parted ways, he told me to inform everyone and to activate phase four of the plan.

I entered the main part of the bank. The tall ceiling, huge chandelier, and mosaic art tiles greeted me as I walked past the hostages who were bound together by the wrists, sitting on the floor with a terrified look on their faces. I ignored every single one of them as GC caught my signal and approached me.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked quietly, trying not to attract too much attention from the hostages.

“An explosion. The way we planned to escape, we can’t anymore.”

“We heard gunshots.”

“It was the police. Gwacheon blocked them out,” GC visibly sank his shoulders as he let out a sigh of relief.

“And the hostages you took?”

“Escaped.”

“Goddamn it, London.”

“That’s not our biggest concern right now. The police are getting impatient.”

“As are we. We’ve been here for days.”

I sensed his growing frustration and placed my hand on his shoulder as a gesture of reassurance, “Gwacheon wants phase four,” GC's eyes enlarged as he straightened his posture. I stared out at the hostages and met a pregnant woman’s teary eyes, “We have to leave them,” I whispered, “They want them safe.”

GC matched the direction of my gaze, “We can’t hand all of them over. Without them,” he paused as he ripped his eyes from the hostages, “You know this. They will shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Stay here.” I requested and heard GC behind me as he ordered the hostages to listen to him. He was going to do his part and initiate phase four. We needed the most valuable hostages to ensure our survival and everyone else would be handed to the police camping outside the bank.

➰

I entered the CEO’s office that had turned into our discussion room. Everything happened here. With the President of the bank, himself, tied to his own chair present. Including the only real leverage we had and the reason why the police had not stormed the bank, the President of South Korea.

During our planning phase, Busan discovered that twice a month President Moon would visit the bank. Often he would speak with the President of the bank and we would secretly listen in on their conversation.

It was Ilsan’s idea and the Professor liked it. We would rob the bank on the day the President of South Korea would be there.

I laughed when Ilsan said it was poetic, in fact he said, there was something beautiful about robbing the nation of its money while the savior of the country had to forcibly watch as we fucked him in the ass. Ilsan was a sadistic fucker and it made me fall harder for him. He did not care but the Professor made sure he, along with the rest of us, understood that no harm was allowed to be done to the President.

President Moon’s eyes grew wider as I entered the office and explained everything that happened to Ilsan. As the person in charge, I informed him about Gwacheon’s need to activate phase four. He glared at me momentarily before he turned his attention back to the wall behind the two Presidents.

Neatly hung every cellphone of each hostage, including their wallets, “54 hostages in total,” Ilsan was deep in thought and would often talk out loud as he contemplated something, “We only need ten,” he then returned to the room and smiled at me, “Actually we could release every hostage except,” he paused as he teasingly pointed at the Presidents, “These two.”

“Where is my daughter? What are you doing?” The President of the bank hulked in desperate anger.

“You should contact the Professor.” I dismissed the man and asked Ilsan.

“No. I will call the negotiator, tell that bitch what’s happening and buy us some time by releasing some hostages.”

“Some, not all.”

“As a sign of good faith, we will release those in dire need of medical attention,” he smiled at me as he brushed away the hair strands from my face, “You have dust all over you.”

“Yeah, cutting it close.”

“Your gun?” He raised an eyebrow as he bit his inner cheek.

“They took it when they ambushed me.”

“I see,” he grabbed my face and slowly examined the bruises the hostages inflicted on my jaw, “You shouldn’t have gone alone. You don’t get to go alone.”

“I’m fine.”

“They could have shot you too. Busan is still critical.”

“I’m aware, Namj--” I paused mid-sentence as I remembered we were in the middle of a heist. The Professor explicitly did not want any of us growing close and he certainly did not want anyone falling in love.

No real names, city names only. Those were the rules.

However, Ilsan and I engaged in something that none of us could have foreseen. Love. Despite how hard we tried - in those initial months in Jindo - to resist and fight our urges, they grew stronger. Regardless of how intriguing he was, how smart, and how utterly attracted I was to him, I tried to cast aside all emotions until I gave in until he did as well.

One weak moment and I found myself in his room. And before I knew it, months of boring planning the heist had turned into months of planning for a heist while secreting and daily breaking a sacred rule.

We got closer, closer than intended and he and I were on a first-name basis and after the beach house found out the Professor did not agree. Busan did not either and could not see why I would choose Ilsan over him. Soon, however, everyone eased to the idea and Ilsan made sure our relationship would not interfere with our collective wish to see the heist through. And I agreed. He was not going to get in the way of me receiving my cut.

Ilsan glared at me briefly, irritation spewing through his eyes as he ignored my unintentional slip-up, “How far is Gwacheon? And Gwangju?”

“We need a new route.”

“Go find out how much we have. We might be able to leave sooner.”

➰

If the Professor was the planner then Ilsan was the enforcer. He called every shot and assessed each problem as they emerged and chose the strategy he saw fit.

Back in Jindo, the Professor made sure everyone else knew that Ilsan was the ringleader. Gwacheon did not appreciate having someone with less experience as the leader of the heist and unfortunately, Daegu and Gwangju followed pursuit with the same thought and it caused some tension between them.

Essentially it was boys being toxic as hell. Who had the biggest dick?

However, Ilsan proved himself with the knowledge he possessed and it caused Gwacheon to ease upon him. Daegu grew fascinated and requested Busan find information on him. Curiosity got the better of me and I read the information about him.

Ilsan was suspected to steal from the Queen of England, breaking into Buckingham Palace by himself and gathering her jewelry, some going as far back as seven generations. Ilsan was not just a thieve but a deadly one. Daegu could admire that including Gwangju and with this information, they figured it was better to keep him happy.

The guys were excited to have him part of the team whereas I grew more inward. At that point, I was aware I had some interest in him. However, I could not admit it to myself.

In all honesty, Ilsan terrified me slightly. He was not someone I could read well and that alone scared me. He could express himself with little or no words but at the same time, he would let his guard down and simply be a guy around the others. I did not know where to place him.

Something changed, however, within those first few weeks after he entered the beach house. He hardly spoke to me. We avoided each other, almost religiously. A part of me was relieved but if I was, to be honest with myself and the emotions I was developing, I only avoided him because I was afraid to be alone with him.

I was not too sure whether or not he could sense it but I found myself running into him at the most unintentional moments. Although it was innocent at first, those run-ins would become more frequent. Sometimes, despite the hesitation and resistance at first, we would talk and those conversations became longer. Other times we would steal quick glances and before I knew it, it naturally turned into something I swore I would not do with any of these men.

A mere accidental touch would turn into lingering gazes that later became a need to be closer to each other.

I was not certain when it happened but I had developed strong feelings for Ilsan. And after the first physical connection, I had not been able to take my hands off him. It was primal, needy and above anything else, it was a vigorous emotion. It felt as if he was someone I had longed for without even knowing.

So, it became easy to take directions from him. Despite everything I knew and any opinions I had, I became disloyal to them and strictly loyal to Ilsan.

It felt real. He felt right.

The cafeteria area of the bank was where we had placed Busan. I entered with a heavy heart, slowly approaching the table we had set up for him. Ilsan had spoken to the negotiator and demanded a doctor and a nurse to enter the bank. They complied but only if we released two hostages and we did.

The red-haired nurse stood up from her seat as she nervously eyed me, “There’s nothing to report, Miss.”

“Did I ask?” I dismissively brushed off her statement as I kept my glance at Busan. I towered over him and gently placed my hand close to the gunshot wound the sniper from across the street had fired yesterday. A low sigh evaded his lips and he gingerly whispered my city name into a weak smile, “How are you?”

“I’ve been better.”

I caressed his golden locks and grew aware of the two strangers observing me. Leaning closer to his ear, I murmured, “Phase four,” he stared at me and I nodded as soon as I could tell he understood what was happening.

Hastily, he began to sit up but I held him down, “No please, I can brush it off.”

“Your shoulder is out, you’ve lost too much blood,” I reminded him, “Focus on getting your strength back.”

“I’m fine, London.” He sat up and the monitor the negotiator had provided began to beep louder, his heart rate accelerated and I could not help but feel like shit for involving him, “I have to do my part.”

“I’ve got this, Busan.” He stared at me momentarily, confusion and defeat coated his gaze until he let out a sigh. He knew I would not back down, “I’ll talk to you soon.” With a gentle kiss on his cheek, I shot the red-haired nurse a glare and pushed her to the side, far from Busan’s wandering ear, “Take care of him or else,” I threatened before I left them.

➰

I spotted Gwangju and gestured for him to climb down from the rail. The Professor wanted to replicate his previous heist in Spain. The plan was never to rob the Bank of Korea but to print out more money. And we did. With Gwangju in charge, eight days was all we needed to print out 901 million in South Korean WON.

It was not a quick robbery but a methodical and thoroughly thought out plan. The Professor had done it before and all of Spain and Europe was looking for him.

He was bold.

If we made it through the heist with the money and unscathed, it meant that the Professor was a mastermind in the bank robbery. One, no police officer could catch. However, as excited as I was to be a part of his crew, the Professor made it crystal clear - before any of us had agreed - that blood would be spilled. He had seen it back in Spain. He lost a handful of good people during and after the heist.

The pain of it still haunted him.

All of us understood the consequences and continued on with his plan. But after Busan, I was grateful that only one of us had gotten hurt. He was not dead and that was all that mattered. Moreover, when the bullet penetrated Busan’s shoulder, I realized that this was real life. There was no going back. I was in this heist.

Ilsan froze when the negotiator mentioned the Professor’s real name including some of the other guys’. Mine as well as Daegu’s, GC’s, Ilsan’s identities had yet to be found but we were sure it was only a matter of time.

The negotiator was ruthless, adamant about knowing who the thieves were. I felt certain she would try her hardest and find all of us but more importantly, she would have us executed for embarrassing the nation and capturing the President of Korea. Thanks to Busan’s profile on her, I knew she would never back down.

“You ready?” Gwangju asked with a grin on his face as he jumped down the ground, “These hostages are the most hard-working bunch I have ever seen,” like a child eager to show his parents his accomplishments, Gwangju took my hand and guided me through the process. “Every ten minutes, we are printing 500.000 KRW.”

“Wow,” I murmured.

“Wow? Just wow?” He shook me slightly with a grin, “They are working hard, overworking, overtime,” he raised his voice to get my mood elevated before reaching for his megaphone, “We are having fun, right guys?” He yelled out and the hostages obeyed him. He laughed as he turned to me. His expression changed upon noticing my unfazed reaction, “Alright, what the hell is wrong?”

“I need the guns.”

He frowned with a small head tilt, “Daegu has them.”

“He’s not at the vault.”

“Then I don’t kno--” he paused briefly as he scanned my red jumpsuit, “Why is there dust all over you?”

“Phase four is beginning.”

“No, no. We can’t. I am nowhere near the amount.”

“The police are right under our feet and Seok--” I paused as I bit my tongue, correcting myself, “Gwacheon bought us some time but we need to leave soon. How much?”

Gwangju glanced around as he contemplated the amount he had managed to print, “A little over half.”

“It’s been four days!”

“Yeah and like I told the Professor for that amount, I need eight days. These machines aren’t the latest model, I’ll ruin them.”

“Then ruin them!”

“That’s not how it works, kid.” One of the machines began to malfunction, so loud as a jam occurred and smoke appeared from it, “Fuck!” Gwangju rushed over to the machine being operated by an elderly male hostage. He seemed fragile and I wondered why Gwangju personally had requested him. Poor man. I was sure he did not expect to become a hostage when he left his home in the morning. But Gwangju said he had experience according to Busan, and this hostage had worked at the bank for over 35 years.

“Sir,” the elderly man started, “One of the bills is stuck.”

“Shit,” he exclaimed as he climbed back up to the rail to get a closer look.

“Gwangju,” I yelled after him and he glanced down at me, “Walkie up. We need to go soon. Phase four.” He nodded as he waved at his walkie talkie.

➰

I had to search for Daegu. He was the only one left to be informed about Gwacheon’s need to activate phase four. With my walkie talkie in hand and a fast pace, I searched every room within the bank until I spotted Daegu exiting the bathroom.

He eyed me momentarily with a frown and questioned what happened to my jumpsuit. I had not seen myself but I was certain I looked like a mess. None of the bullets hit me but the explosion created a sky of dust made of brick that coated every inch of my red suit.

I explained to Daegu what happened and although his eyes were filled with concern, he hastily guided me to one of the vaults he had hidden our weaponry. “Thanks,” I murmured as he handed me another L85, “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“We’ll flush them out.”

“You and me?”

“Unless you’d prefer that GC or Ilsan take the post?”

“No, no.”

Daegu handed me a bulletproof vest and I began to put it on, “You’re hesitating.”

“I’m not.”

“London, it’s alright that you don’t want to hurt anyone but,” he paused as he assisted me with the vest while staring intensely into my eyes, “If it’s a matter of your life versus someone else’s, I hope you choose yourself above anyone else. Any hesitation on your part will lead to a bullet in your head,” he placed his index finger in between my eyebrows, “You have a duty to this team. Stay alive and do your part.”

➰

Phase four. One of the many plans the Professor had created if the heist did not go as intended. At no point were the authorities supposed to come inside the bank with their guns blazing. It was not the correct protocol. Busan suspected this and made it clear to us. The Professor had to figure out a way to secure our safety, in the events that Busan’s theory about the negotiator was right, and prevent an active shoot out. The Professor’s main focus was to make sure that there were no casualties. The murder was something he never wished to be pinned on us.

“Are you ready?” Daegu eyed me as he pressed the elevator that would take us down to the basement.

“Let’s get this over with.”

The plan was simple. Ilsan would hide the Presidents and then join us. Gwangju would collect the money he had printed and meet Gwacheon at the new escape route. Busan was out of commission, so I had to take his spot. GC would dress all of the hostages into the same red jumpsuits we wore, including arm them with fake guns, to throw off the authorities and slow them down, even for a moment. The Professor explained that that single moment of hesitation on their part meant our lives. The hesitation would make all of the difference.

Although I feared for my life, I could not allow it to cripple me. As much as I wanted to go back to my initial post of helping Gwacheon, Daegu ordered Seoul to take my spot when we spotted him on our way out of the vault. This meant that Seoul’s initial position of studying the police’s every move was unchecked. We had no idea when and where the authorities would strike from. We were at a disadvantage.

However, we had an ace up our sleeves.

Phase two was never activated which meant the police had no clue that the heist mastermind known as the Professor was the brains behind this operation. Up until now, the negotiator had only spoken to Ilsan. She knew he was the one in charge but luckily for us, and thanks to the Professor’s methodical planning, we had another pair of eyes informing us where they would strike.

Seoul had infiltrated their system as soon as we took over the bank. This enabled the Professor to be a step ahead of the police. He knew everything they were saying, contemplated, everything they could see he would know and inform Ilsan. Even our walkie talkies were undetected by them. Seoul kept changing the frequency. It made the police unaware of our communication to the outside. Moreover, due to Seoul’s technology skills, they were unable to hack into the security system within the bank because he had sneakily created software and encryption that made it impossible to hack months prior.

Seoul was no amateur. He might have been the youngest and the most naive of the group but he was by far the smartest.

The elevator doors opened and Daegu and I stepped out with our guns positioned, ready to fire at anyone who roamed the basement. The flickering lights, million pieces of shattered bricks on the floor, and the sound of - what I assumed was a pipe that broke - dripping water made me clutch the L85 tighter. We did not speak. Through hand signals, Daegu gestured we took a right turn but to keep his back safe. I walked behind him as he signaled the coast was clear.

We walked deeper into the basement until we found ourselves close to where the explosion happened. It was walled off, exactly how Gwacheon intended but a small gasp escaped me upon realizing that some of the officers that came through the hole were now buried in the aftermath of the second explosion.

“Let’s go.” Daegu gently tapped my shoulder, “Today, we need to leave today.”

No casualties. That was the rule. One of the most sacred rules. Without rules humans were barbaric, the Professor often said. And he was right. No one was supposed to get hurt. I understood it and agreed. It did not feel morally correct to take someone’s life. However, I was the reason why Busan was still breathing. They did not care who they shot at through the window, his life, and the kind of man he was. They did not bat an eye for his well being.

The Professor could call me barbaric, he could scold me and kick me off the team but right this instance, as I stared down at the man who fired the shot against the sweetest man I had ever the pleasure to meet, I was glad that Gwacheon buried them. Trigger happy pricks.

↣ all rights reserved © heathfritillary 2021. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed. 

[fors-nat]

Neil’s kidnapping from Andrew’s perspective

I know you all talked about it a lot. But I am obsessed with Baltimore reunion scene, and what was going on through Andrew’s mind, and I need to get it out of my system. So it means long post Sorry

• So let’s start with their ride to the game. With that ride where Neil asked Andrew to break his promise, to let him fight for himself • That fucker knew that shit was coming; he knew it was day 0 on that sms countdown. He did not know exactly what it was, but still he knew exactly what he was doing • He expected trouble and he did not want Andrew to be hurt in the middle of it • But Andrew doesn’t like breaking promises. Even if people do not want those promises anymore (*COUGH* Aaron *COUGH*) • But, let’s face it, he doesn’t know how to say “no” to Neil • Then Neil asks him to actually try this time at the game and promises that Andrew can have whatever he wants in return • Now, who can say “no” to THAT? • Andrew would never ask anything Neil is not comfortable giving, but still, imagine the possibilities! • So this is what he’s doing (imagining the possibilities) after they win the game and everybody is ecstatic, and then Neil comes in from the shower, pale as a wall • Andrew is the only one who notices that there is something wrong with him • He looks for answers in his face, and there is some sort of complicated emotion, fear, hesitation • And there is also something about his “Thank you, you were amazing” that makes his heart clench painfully • But the “security guards” are rushing them out, and anyway, they will have time to talk on the bus, or on the roof when they’re back • And then there is a riot • Andrew loses sight of Neil for just a second and then he’s – gone

• He tries to catch glimpses of him through the crowd, but he’s short and he can’t see between the bodies • He has to make sure Kevin, Aaron, and Nicky are fine, too • His eyes keep searching for Neil, and as the crowd disperses, he grows more and more anxious • There are police and ambulance, and somebody is telling him to come and get his bruises looked at • He shoves them off, moving through the parking lot, looking into the ambulance cars, and police cars, scanning the crowd • Neil isn’t there • He calls his phone, but he does not pick up • A thought flashes through his mind that breaking their promise meant not only that Andrew doesn’t have to protect Neil anymore, but it also means that Neil doesn’t have to stay. • He is free to run. • He keeps calling and soon hears the familiar ringtone. • There is a short relief • Then terror • Because knowing Neil Josten, finding his bag abandoned in a middle of a parking lot is actually scarier than finding his dead body • Andrew picks up Neil’s phone, flips through his history and sees an incoming call right after the game. He calls the number, but the line is dead • He then flips through his messages and finds the one that says “0” • It takes him a moment to connect the dots – and all his world fills with uncontrollable rage

• The bag and the phone were both messages for Andrew • The abandoned bag meant that he did not go willingly • The abandoned phone meant that he was not calling for help • And “Thank you, you were amazing” meant a goodbye

• Nope • Andrew takes none of that • Fuck the promises or promises to break the promises • He hates him so much • For all his secrets, and all his lies, and for coming every day to the roof and not telling him about the threats, for making him feel again - for everything • He searches the whole parking lot, the entire stadium, over and over, looking for SOMETHING, begging his eidetic memory to be useful for once, to show him something that will tell him which way to follow • Somebody comes looking for him • They haven’t seen Neil too • They see the bag and the racket, they start asking questions • He’s ready to kill whoever’s the closest, blinded by rage and panic • Waymack is the one who drags him to his senses and gets some answers from him • Then there is police, hospital (he still never lets anyone touch him) • Renee takes away the knives when she hears the story • Andrew calls every hospital in the city over and over again in case Neil was delivered somewhere passed out – but there is no news • Kevin is maniacally  restringing Neil’s racket, he is all shaking • Andrew thinks that Kevin is thinking of Riko • Was it Riko? • He binge smokes and tries to piece together everything that happened, replaying in his mind everything Neil ever said. • Andrew is afraid, he is so afraid that he doesn’t know how to deal with it, it’s worse than the roof, than the flights, then the falling. It’s way, WAY worse than being afraid for himself. • He decides that next time he sees Neil, he’ll nail him to the wall with his knives and leave him hanging up there until he spills every last one of his secrets • A thought creeps into his mind: “What if there is no next time?” • He chases it away and concentrates on trying to breathe. • Then the Coach gets a call. He takes it in the next room and when he comes back he rushes them on the bus • “Neil?” Andrew asks. “We are coming to get him,” says Coach • When the Foxes start to bombard him with questions, he just threatens to leave them behind and walks away • Andrew is the first one on the bus (clenching Neil’s bag because nobody could take it from him) • For a moment he feels like he can regain his self-control, because no matter what, they are coming to get Neil • However, when Wymack starts the engine, the Foxes all gather around him and start asking • Waymack does not know much except that Neil is in Baltimore for some reason, and the FBI want to see them for questioning • Kevin can’t hide his surprise when he hears that Neil is alive • Andrew glances at his face and it’s suddenly very obvious • “Hey, Kevin,” he says calmly, and Kevin flinches from his voice. “What do you know?” • Kevin tries denying knowing anything, but what he does not understand is that he is of no use to Andrew unless he starts talking NOW • The next thing he knows is Kevin coughing and cowering on the floor between the seats. Lots of hands are dragging Andrew away from him, while Kevin rubs his neck • (Let’s all take this moment to thank Renee for taking Andrew’s knives earlier) • Kevin starts talking in a hoarse voice • And what he says is making Andrew even angrier • Because he knew, he knew, he knew the entire time • Everybody Andrew ever promised to protect betrayed him. Aaron with his girlfriend, Neil with his lies, Kevin with his silence • Waymack has to stop the bus until the Foxes manage to subdue Andrew • Renee pushes him in a seat by the window and sits next to him • She starts talking about random things, trying to distract him, but he’s not listening • He is watching the road ahead and fights with the urge to push the Coach out of the way and get behind the wheel • He wishes to be in his car and floor the gas pedal • He needs to get to Neil faster • Because he hates him SO much • He vows to fucking kill him if he’s still alive by the time he gets to him • He is also willing to sell his soul to Renee’s God or any other entity if they promise to keep Neil alive until he gets to him • It feels like forever to get to Baltimore, and they go straight to the FBI • FBI try to ask their questions, but they are drowned in the ones the Foxes have • Which are all basically “Where is Neil?” • Andrew low key appreciates every single one of the Foxes at this moment, seeing how they are all ready to fight for one of their own • They all fold their arms, declare that they won’t say a word until they can see Neil, and then just glare • Even Aaron says that he can’t remember anyone named Neil Josten, but maybe he’ll remember when he sees one in person • Andrew is not patient though. He wants answers NOW • They tell him he won’t be able to see Neil, that it’s impossible. That it’ll never be possible, that the person named Neil Josten doesn’t even exist • For a split moment Andrew remembers the time when he kind of hoped that it was true, that Neil was just a hallucination,  a side effect of the drugs • But now – he can’t stand to hear it • So yeah… that’s where he snaps again • There is yelling and guns clicking, and the only thing stopping Andrew is  Waymack’s back suddenly appearing in front of him, between Andrew and the gun, and some other hands are clawing at him, trying to keep him in place, and the touch infuriates him even further • He tears himself free with a violent jerk as he hears Waymack saying that none of them will go anywhere until they see Neil, and none of them will talk until they see Neil • They try to keep reasoning with him and threatening him, but Waymack  just shoos the Foxes out and they go back to the bus • Except Andrew wouldn’t go • These are the people who have Neil. Leaving them and “waiting somewhere else” feels counter-productive, so he stays. Obviously. • In the end Abby takes the bus and gets the Foxes to a hotel • Waymack stays with Andrew • They stay there for hours, refusing to answer any questions and insisting to see Neil like wind-up toys that only know one sentence • Finally they get what they want • FBI will bring Neil to a hotel, and the team will have a limited amount of time for their “meet and greet” • They go back to the Foxes and Waymack repeats the story to the rest of the team with all the rules they mentioned • Then they just wait • Soon the FBI come again. The agent says that they will be allowed to see Neil one person at a time • Except Andrew • Who will not be allowed to see him at all because he is way too dangerous to be allowed near such a valuable witness. • Now, I am pretty convinced the ensuing rage outburst is how Andrew actually got his bloody eye and ended up handcuffed to the Coach. • And then they tell the Coach to go move the bus because it attracts attention blah-blah-blah. • And Andrew despite his objections is forced to go with him. • And – what do you know! – what a coincidence! – that’s the exact time Neil arrives. • Andrew realizes it when they go back and he notices all the extra security around the hotel. • So he starts running. • Waymack – bless him – runs too. • They are stopped before the door, and the FBI try to lecture them again or remind the rules, or mention that they are already breaking the “one at a time” rule or whatever • So Andrew slams him into the door • And Waymack who is also fed up helps him push by into the room

• And there he is. • Neil is there.

• And what’s the first thing Andrew sees him do? • That’s right: fighting an FBI agent who’s pulling a loaded gun. • It takes Andrew a moment to fight his way to Neil who is hunched over his bandaged hands in pain. • And the moment Andrew puts his hand on the back of Neil’s neck a wave of relief washes over him – so intense he feels his face twisting in a weird way • Neil is trying to straighten up, so he pushes him down unless he sees it. • He then takes a couple of steadying breaths, blinks a couple of times and kneels beside him. • Andrew is feeling so many things, as he is tugging Neil’s hood off • And for someone who’s used to feeling nothing this is too overwhelming. • Neil is looking at him, his expression is hard to read because of all the bandages, but his eyes are sharp and his stupid mouth is commenting on his bruises, like they are worth any attention at all while Neil himself looks barely recognizable. • Andrew starts peeling the bandages off Neil’s face the same way he’s been peeling lies and secrets from him for the last year. • Seeing his wounds is like a punch in the gut • It takes him some time to process what he sees • He thinks that he will kill whoever did that • He thinks that this was the very thing Neil was running from. • He thinks that he took too much upon himself when he promised to protect him. • He thinks that he was not realizing what he was asking him to do when he told him not to run. • He thinks that Neil almost got killed because Andrew did not want him to disappear from his life. • He feels furious and helpless and very-very small. • Neil startles him off this train wreck of thoughts and memories with “I’m sorry”, and Andrew barely catches himself before he hits him. • He needs some outlet for his anger; he wants to hurt someone, to destroy something. • So when the FBI chooses this moment to lecture him on his behavior, Andrew thinks: “Perfect,” and starts to get up to turn this room into a bloody massacre. • Neil’s bandaged hands shoot up to his face, and the fact that he’s not touching him - not really trying to stop him, but ASKING him to stop - is what makes Andrew comply. • He can never say “no” when Neil asks for something. • Nobody ever really asked him. They tried to guilt him into doing something, bribe him, bully him, manipulate… • Nobody ever just asked the way Neil did, and Andrew doesn’t know what to do with it • So he sits down and watches Neil shoot a cold look at the grown men with weapons and the power, he listens to him calling them out on their bullshit and making them do what they are told. • And he thinks that Neil should have been the one to make deals with people and promise them protection • Like the way he fought for Kevin on national TV. • Like he spent two weeks being beaten into a pulp in Evermore to protect Andrew. • Like he chose to get killed instead of putting Foxes in danger. • Like he fought a person with a gun a minute ago. • And he suddenly realizes that nothing matters: the lies, the secrets – any of it. • Different names, ragged clothes, contact lenses, lies about his past – nothing could change who he was as a person. • Andrew suddenly realizes that there is no going back. That he is hopelessly lost to this weird lying exy obsessed junkie with a martyr complex. • It’s scary, but somehow okay. • “The attitude problem was not an act”, he says as the handcuff drops from his hand. • “Am I at ninety four yet?” Neil asks stupidly, as if Andrew’s mind has place for anything else in the entire world. • And then he tells him about Lola, about the dashboard lighter, about his father, and Andrew almost can’t bear to hear it. He can’t bear to hear about people touching him, hurting him. • When Abby tries to intervene he knows that she means well, that she means to help and to heal, but it’s not like he can control himself just yet. • “Get away from us” is not a threat, it’s a warning. He can’t bear to think of anyone else touching Neil right now, and he cannot help it. • But Neil is tugging at his hair demanding his attention, and he draws his gaze back to him when Abby (and the Foxes – just in case) takes a few steps back. • Then Neil’s disfigured face twists in fear and pain and Andrew can hardly make out his voice when he tells him about the witness protection. • “If you tell me to go, I’ll go” he says, probably not knowing how painfully Andrew’s fingers are fisted in his hoodie, not knowing that the only way Andrew will let this happen is over his own and a couple more people’s dead bodies. • “You are not going anywhere” he says, inviting the Foxes to a fight. • And then he just has to watch it unravel…

• Neil invites him to go with him to the FBI like there was something that could have kept Andrew from doing so • He does not think that he can let Neil out of his sight ever again, but that problem will have to be considered later • For now he is just happy to see him exhale when Wymack jokes about the jersey, and Dan tells him to hurry back, and Nicky calls him family, - and that horrible expression leaves Neil’s face as they get into the car and he murmurs his name under his breath

• Andrew makes sure to keep within arm’s reach of Neil at all times as if afraid that he would be snatched away again if he isn’t careful. • When they put them to sleep on cots, Andrew pushes Neil next to the wall and takes a place between him and the door. • He doesn’t sleep though • He is afraid to wake up and find himself alone • Which is a first • He listens quietly to Neil’s testimony, and admires how Neil is good at carefully choosing his words, twisting his way out of tricky questions. • He only interferes when they bring up witness protection again. He makes sure they know the Foxes will give them hell if they try to take Neil away.

• He tries to sleep on the bus, after they’re done with FBI, but keeps waking up to stare at the top of Neil’s head pressed against the window a few seats ahead • He is finally feeling like he regains control, like his world didn’t just shatter to pieces a mere day ago. • But he still feels like he has to look at Neil, just to see that he’s there, or the feeling of reality slips away from his grasp. • They leave each other’s line of vision when they’re back in Fox Tower.

•  Andrews room feels like he hasn’t been there in years. His bed is unmade, a book lies open on the pillow with headphones cord in it as a bookmark.

• He wants nothing more but to climb under the blanket, when a sudden need to see Neil again stings him. • He is standing there staring at his bed, trying to be rational and talk himself through it. • Neil is fine. He needs rest. He will see him in the morning. • When Aaron stomps towards him. • He is pissed and he wants answers. • Andrew is not ready to give them yet. He’s tired and he does not know what will happen if he opens his mouth right now. • Also he won’t be able to sleep like this. • He has to see Neil or he’ll literally die. • So Andrew looks Aaron in the eye, grabs his pillow and walks out. • Aaron calls after him, but Andrew slams the door on his way out. • Kevin sighs, scoops his own pillow and follows him. • “I guess it’s a sleepover” Nicky says, as he gets some blankets and his own pillow to follow the rest. • Aaron swears, but follows too • Renee sees them as they all trail into Neil and Matt’s room, and soon the girls join them. • Andrew watches Neil gaze at the Foxes with a tender smile as they pile up on the floor - and he can finally breathe again. • He twists a hem of Neil’s t-shirt around his finger in a way that would let him feel if he moves and closes his eyes • He doesn’t have a wall at his back, but there is Neil at his side, Aaron at the other, Nicky and Kevin somewhere at his feet and even though he knows that Neil is staring at him, he doesn’t waste his breath telling him to stop – as he finally falls asleep.

[kihyunswrath]

Can we like. Finally decide to stop defending Starship?

So here’s the FACTUAL situation at hand: basically every single member of Monsta X is physically hurt by being overworked to death, and apparently Hyungwon and Jooheon are having the worst of it, right now. And that’s where we are. That’s not an interpretation of what’s going on with them and Starship and Wonho, that’s not us trying to read between lines and vague tweets and predictions and positions of the moon, that is the fucking reality. 

So. Which of you dipshits still think Starship is a good company, or that they have ever had ANY good intentions about anything whatsoever? Or that they have ever considered our opinions instead of wiping their asses with our post-it notes and letters? Or that they have ever even stopped to think about what the word “health” means? Like seriously, can we collectively, as a fandom, fucking STOP ignoring all the red flags that point out very clearly that EVERYONE inside that company, aside from Monsta X members themselves, are totally useless asshole fuckers that should be fired from their jobs?

Like can we stop feeding into this “good innocent” workers in Starship discourse, where we feel bad for everyone involved who could be affected if we actually flipped tables? Because the truth is that this industry and its every single fucking worker LETS things happen and they haven’t protested or said shit about anything because they apparently piss their pants when they see their own boss? Can we finally realize that every ounce of empathy we still have for anyone inside Starship is monetized and exploited and that they will absolutely never stop torturing Monsta X members as long as we still stay hopeful, and that even though not every staff member does it willingly, they still DO IT NONETHELESS? Like what kind of a spineless but well-meaning worker does not resign willingly after witnessing and participating in this madness?

What’s even the point of having empathy, if it means the members will be hurt more and more every single day because of it? What’s the point of us having this whiny “let’s not ruin six or more careers just because of one” attitude when quite clearly their “careers” equal slavery?  

Sure Starship has not made any statements about Wonho, sure they have been shady about things, sure there has been strange contradictory messages and vague hints and all kinds of fuckery that clearly give us desperate and naive people excuses to believe that Starship is up to something. Sure, let’s be bold, Starship could be having legal battles (as fucking if) to clear Wonho’s background and that might make them extra cautious and silent. But that quite literally does not work as an excuse when simultaneously the remaining members have not been able to rest enough, eat enough, sleep enough, go to therapy, express their opinions, acknowledge Wonho exists, communicate with us, recover from their injuries or take even ONE day off. All the while they have quite clear-as-day hinted that they 1) do not like their own company, 2) they do indeed fucking need rest and that 3) this is too much.

What even MADE any of us believe this could be a plot, and that even if it was, it somehow JUSTIFIES the excruciating pain the members are going through now? As if Wonho returning tomorrow would magically cure everything that has been done to them all?

As if this isn’t just another day in this industry, as if everything they have made Monsta X go through hasn’t been a standard way to deal with stuff among kpop companies for decades now. As if this hasn’t happened to dozens of other groups before and after Monsta X. It’s not that we are living in a very “bad time for kpop/Monsta X” and that we just need to live through it and then everything will be fine, with or without Wonho. It’s not that we’re just witnessing something exquisitely exceptional and outrageous and that it will be fixed because Starship is “smart” and cannot afford to lose a valuable member or their most expensive group. 

It’s none of that. It doesn’t fucking matter what Starship actually plans to do, because the true problem is that we are all very, very eager to prove Starship and every other kpop company that absolutely anything goes as long as our selfish needs to constantly see and meet our idols are satisfied. We are all very happy to pretend the members are not hurt, we are very happy to just look at all those pictures and videos where all that pain and worry is being edited out of their faces. We are overjoyed at the possibility that maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe next month Wonho will come back and then everything will be fine and we will never have to think or talk about this again. 

The true problem is that we can’t wait to actually go back to all that consuming, all that easy stuff that doesn’t involve critical thinking, protesting or negative thoughts. We can’t wait to go back to salivating after pretty Monsta X abs and not having to think what it means for them to stand there in front of us and be so overworked they need to take disability pension after their company is finally done with them. 

Yes, I would also love to hear from Wonho and I would love to see him where he most likely wants to be, next to other Monsta X members. But after all of this, it’s not his disappearance I’m actually the most shocked about. No, it’s how way too many of us fans truly do think loving and supporting idols means asking them to get back to the stage no matter what, even if it means they have to crawl back on all fours.

[1kook]

rotten

‣Kim Namjoon x (F) Reader

summary⇁ How bold of him to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, as if his presence alone doesn’t contribute to the distance your father places between the two of you. tags⇁enemies to lovers, strict but caring parents, daddy issues, bodyguard!au if u squint, mafia!au kinda, depictions of fight scenes, attempted molestation (nothing too traumatic), joon’s shady past that I don't even bother explaining lmao, teensy bit of angst, daddy kink, pillow talk, dry humping, unprotected sex, use of the pull-out method wc⇁12.3k !

this fic was....two moch..... also no i don't proofread I'm lazy :/ also ppl on mobile i swear theres a read more I'm srry

-

Despite your generally mild temper, nothing seemed to rile you up as much as the sight of Kim Namjoon on a Tuesday afternoon, easily breezing by the tight security that had been hassling you for over fifteen minutes now. He’d swept through the room like a spirit, not even a single eyelash batting his way, as they all seemed to be consumed with keeping you out of the bourgeoisie office that sat behind the rich mahogany doors.

Your father’s office, where he had explicitly warned you against visiting since you were a child, too busy to fret over you being in such an environment. Admittedly, it’s a concern many parents in his line of work have, but that doesn’t stop you from fighting tooth and limb every once and a while to come see him. He’d always been adamant that you stay away, desperately trying to isolate you from the terrors that usually came with his career in hopes of giving you the happy childhood you deserved. Despite how sheltered and spoiled he’d raised you, the curiosity that had first nestled its way into your brain as a kid never went away, which is how you find yourself stuck in this situation. 

Your eyes flicker over towards Kim Namjoon, casually glancing out the floor to ceiling glass panels that decorate the entire level of your dad’s building as he chomps on a donut, who is not technically the root of your strife, but someone who does play a pretty significant role in worsening your situation. 

He was your father’s prized protégé, a man not that much older than you, who had somehow been deemed worthy of being accepted into your very exclusive hierarchy, despite not having any blood connection to the family behind it. In fact, Kim Namjoon hadn’t had any sort of ties to anywhere when your father had first found him, so tragically young and broody after fighting in the underground (and winning) for the third night in a row. He was an oddity, everyone thought, because someone so smart and disgustingly handsome had no place among the heathens your father typically took under his wing. 

Unlike you, who strived everyday to finally be allowed into the family business, Kim Namjoon had easily slithered his stuck-up ass in, not necessarily becoming your father’s righthand man, but by the way your father treated him, he might as well have been. 

“Let me in,” you calmly breathe, the annoyance that had been caught in your throat doubling as you watch the fucker from the corner of your eye, his lean frame hugged tight by the custom pristine suit your father had gotten him for New Year’s. At your voice, his attention seems to finally snap in your direction, lips quietly munching through the donut as he analyzes your situation. 

Your can tell your father’s henchman are growing more and more anxious with every second you linger there, the strict orders from the boss weighing heavily down on them. Though you hadn’t inherited your father’s business—yet, you reminded yourself—you had certainly taken after his stubborn personality. “Sorry, Miss,” the absolute brute flounders, and the way he’s so gentle around you reminds you of the rampant sexism that goes on in this business, which only serves to fuel your anger. 

You’re about to spew off some degrading rhetoric about how people like him are only useful for their strength, when a smooth voice beats you to it. “Let her in,” Namjoon orders, and it takes everything in you not to jump when he suddenly appears beside you. Damn, he was good. 

Your jaw twitches as you watch him stare down the main guard, until the bigger man averts his gaze, stepping to the side. An awkward pause fills the room, and you should be grateful for Namjoon’s help, but instead, all you can think about is how you shouldn’t have to rely on him of all people for any type of assistance. 

He pushes the heavy door open, gesturing for you to step inside. You brush by without so much as a thanks, finally stepping foot inside your father’s office. Said man whirls around with a beaming smile on his face, one that is wiped off by the sight of you. Judging by the fact Kim Namjoon was lingering outside his office, you can more or less take a wild guess that your father was expecting him. 

“Sweetie,” your dad startles, jumping out of his leather seat as he rounds the desk on his charge to you. He grasps you by the arms, eyes analyzing over every part of your face for any signs of injury. “What are you doing here?” He interrogates once he’s completed his thorough inspection, eyes flickering back towards the door that Namjoon softly shuts. 

“I came to see you,” you say, voice meek and shy as you glance around the office you’ve so rarely visited before. You knew your father’s worries were justified, and the sheer terror that had consumed his face at the sight of you being in such a place fills you with both glee and guilt. 

Your father’s lips twitches upwards, only for a brief moment, before he’s schooling his features into the stoic expression he often wears around people he’s about to kill. You guess this is the same. “___, honey,” he exhales, stepping away from you as he adjusts his tie, “you know you’re not supposed to be here.”

Your mouth drop into a frown, and you try to protest. “I get it,” he cuts off, “and I’m flattered you want to visit me.” His words sound too formal and rehearsed, part of you wants to scream. “But you know you’re strictly banned from coming here alone.” 

Your lower lip trembles, because you’ve always naturally sought out your father before anyone else, a true princess from the get-go, and to see him push you away like this tears you apart. Before you can give some immature reply to defend yourself, someone else steps in for you. 

“If you don’t mind the interruption, sir,” Kim Namjoon says, face perfectly masked from any emotion as he carefully evaluates the situation in the same way your father does. Your father seems just as surprised as you to see him so calmly butt into your very intimate conversation, except he watches Kim Namjoon in awe. On the other hand, all you see is red. 

How bold of him to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, as if his presence alone doesn’t contribute to the distance your father places between the two of you. He probably sees Namjoon as an adopted son, you presume, one he’s always wanted because he’s a thousand times more willing to thrust a boy into the mess that are his work affairs, than to teach his daughter the ways. 

You’re so caught up in your mental tirade against Kim Namjoon that you almost don't catch his next words. 

“I would not be opposed to escorting Miss ____ between your office and home,” he offers, and you completely gawk at his sudden charity. “Of course, only if you would like me to, sir.” You absolutely would not like him to!

You father, on the other hand, absolutely beams at Namjoon’s proposition, completely impressed by such a noble offering made by his star pupil. His detached expression shifts into an array of emotions, first impressed by Namjoon, before turning to send a softer, fonder gaze your way. 

“That won’t be necess-”

“I can always count on you, my boy!” Your father praises, slapping one arm down on Namjoon’s bicep, as the other lurches forward to profusely shake his hand. You don’t doubt this is a regular routine he has stored for whenever Namjoon does anything notable. 

His attention soon lands on you, and you’re surprised when he lunges forward to grasp your hands in his, eyes excited in a way you’ve never seen before. “Isn’t that perfect, sweetie? This way, you can come spend time with me without the possibility of danger!” 

Truthfully, you know Kim Namjoon’s offer is probably going to save the rocky relationship between you and your father. Namjoon wasn’t your father’s protégé for no reason; he was possibly the strongest fighter your faction had seen in years, though his strength lied beyond his physical capabilities. He was disturbingly intelligent, his ‘street smarts’ extending into professional education as well, both of which became valuable assets applicable to any situation he may encounter. 

But the same irritation builds in the back of your throat, so sick and tired of others babying you when you don’t need it. You’re perfectly capable of traveling between here and your house on your own. Screw some glorified bodyguard. 

You purse your lips in the most genuine smile you can muster, and huff out an overly cheery, “yup!”

You’d taken the train to come see your father, forgoing the option of one of your many personal driver’s because you knew they’d all refuse to bring you here. However, your father is quick to put Namjoon’s newest task in motion, ushering the two of you out of his office before you can hammer out any details of what exactly this new arrangement will entail. 

Kim Namjoon is as mysterious as ever as he leads you towards the elevator, waiting for you to step in first, before sending the two of you into the underground garage parking. You refuse to break the ice inside the elevator, instead taking in his stern reflection on the elevator’s mirrored panels. 

Ugh. 

He’s unfairly handsome, silvery locks casually brushed aside to perfectly frame the curves of his face. His skin looks pillowy soft, and had you not had a raging hatred for him harbored inside your chest, you would’ve stuttered at the pink tongue that peeks out to glide over his plump lips. 

The elevator dings and you follow him across the garage until you reach a sleek Mercedes coupe, the lights automatically flashing on as you step closer to it. Before you can make a move, Namjoon opens the back door, stepping aside to allow you in. You roll your eyes, huffing your way inside the seat as you watch him round the car and settle into the driver’s seat. 

As you’re tugging on your seatbelt, his silky voice fills the car. “Which home am I escorting you to today, miss?”

You grit your teeth, pushing the buckle into place with more force than necessary. “My apartment uptown,” you mutter, petulantly crossing your arms over your chest. 

For a moment, you catch his brows furrowing in confusion, as he chooses his next words carefully. “You do not wish to be taken to the family home in the suburbs?” He asks, and you roll your eyes at the way he manages to sound just as composed. 

“No, I have things to do tonight,” you frown, tugging your phone out to confirm the evening’s plans with your girlfriends. You’re immediately met with a slew of gleeful texts, which you take the time to respond to as Namjoon pulls out of the parking lot. He’s silent for the remainder of the car ride, save for when he asks you for your address. You wrinkle your nose in annoyance as you begrudgingly give it to him, before your attention returns to your buzzing device. 

You’d been planning on going out to celebrate your friend’s recent promotion at work, giddy at the thought of finally seeing all your friends for the first time in a few weeks. The plan was to head to the exclusive club downtown, in an area your father had strictly forbade you from visiting. But the rumors were too much for you to ignore, and you finally gave in to your friends’ invitations. 

Namjoon pulls up in front of your tall building, though he doesn’t immediately unlock the door for you to get out. He doesn't turn to face you as he informs you, “your father would like for you to visit at least once a week, and had requested that you notify me of any visits at least one day prior.”

You scoff, and tug the handle for him to let you out. 

However, it seems Namjoon has more to say. “He is also aware of your plans to sneak into a club on the south side tonight.” Your breath catches in your throat, and you whirl around to catch his steely gaze through the rearview mirror. “He says you are not allowed to go, but,” Namjoon says, and his monotonous tone of voice makes you want to punch him in that beautiful face of his. “If you do decide to go against his rules, just know that there are people there who do not take too kindly to our family, and would not hesitate to let you know as much.”

The door clicks in the background, and you waste no time throwing it open. You glare back at him once more. “You are not part of my family,” you spit.

“Damn!” Jisoo wolf whistles as she watches you step out of the apartment building Namjoon had dropped you off at not even five hours ago. You ignore your friend’s obnoxious catcalls as you hop into the backseat of Sojin’s car, immediately bombarded by the rest of your goofy friends’ exclamations. 

“You guys are annoying,” you laugh, buckling your seatbelt just as Sojin speeds off, ignoring the honks from cars around her. “How are we getting in?” You inquire, skipping over any formalities. 

Jisoo shrugs, toying with the radio before finally settling on a station she approves of. “Mm, I haven't thought of it yet,” she casually says, and your eyes pop out of their sockets. She knew how nervous to were about tonight, especially since your father had first warned you against going anywhere near this particular district. You’d been hoping she’d made some plans for the group of you to get in. 

“Jisoo, don't be mean” Sojin scolds, seemingly set on going as fast as she can without catching the attention of any late night police. “You know how ____’s dad is.”

You’re thankful someone understands, and Jisoo eventually relents, informing you all that she has some connections to the owners of the club, and that you would all be guaranteed access inside. You can finally breathe easy, settling into the backseat conversation as Jisoo continues pestering Sojin; you have no doubt in your mind that she had her own little pregame while getting ready. 

It’s not long before the car pulls up in front of the club, you and your girls stepping onto unknown territory for the first time. Or, at least, your first time. The exhilaration that comes with disobeying your father’s rules (real rules, not like the stupid don’t come see me rules) makes you vibrate in place, so giddy and excited that you almost stumble over the curb upon stepping out. 

“Chill out,” Sojin laughs, pushing you in the direction of the entrance line, before Jisoo guides you off path, towards where two mammoth bouncers check IDs. You don’t have to worry about any of that, Jisoo simply flashing the two men an innocent smile as they let your group shuffle inside. 

The moment the door swings open, you’re hit with the overwhelming aura that comes with almost every nightclub. The same old vulgar vibe that you’ve been mingling with since you’d first become an adult, the raunchy music a familiar tune as you pushed your way through the packed bodies, gliding and pushing against each other. 

Despite the pounding acoustics, you don’t miss the low whistle Jisoo lets out as she files closely behind you, dainty fingers gripping your arm. “Check that out,” she shouts, dragging one arm up to point at an absolutely gorgeous man sitting at the bar. He’s stunning, you think, and by the looks of it, everyone else seems to think so as well. His dark hair is fanned over his forehead, brushing over his brows as his eyes scan carefully across the dance floor. For a moment, you think they might’ve landed on you, but judging by the sultry chuckle you hear in your ear, you know the inviting grin he flashes is for the pretty girl behind you. “Well don’t mind if I do,” Jisoo mumbles, slowly slipping away from you to saunter over towards the beautiful man at the bar. 

Her departure leaves you by your lonesome, you realize, your friends immediately separating to find their own fun for their night. Just as you resign yourself to babysitting duty (which you don’t really mind), there’s a soft graze against your elbow, making you jump. 

“Smells like weed in here,” Mina huffs, button nose wrinkling as she seems to root herself in place beside you. You snort, mindlessly wandering towards the opposite end of the bar as you continue mingling with your friend. “You know, I think my expectations for this place where a little too high,” she sighs, swirling whatever drink she’d ordered in her cup sadly. 

“Why? I think it’s nice,” you comment, flagging down the bartender to ask for a stronger drink. You listen to her as she goes on to complain about the club, citing her past experiences in better places to prove her point. You can sort of understand her, her disinterest slowly convincing you that you too have seen better clubs, her arguments becoming more and more convincing with every drink she throws back, you slowly following her example. 

Just as she’s whining about the terrible music, her words are suddenly cut short. “Holy fuck,” she gasps, and your eyes follow her gaze, struggling to see whatever has managed to cut your usually chatterbox of a friend off, but all you see are the obnoxiously flashy strobe lights in your eyes. 

“What is it?” You ask, squinting into the far side of the club, near the VIP booths, but all you see are people you don’t recognize. 

“___,” she whines, doe eyes clouding over with want as she seems to have zeroed in on what is probably her dream man. Suddenly, she snaps to attention, determined eyes locking on yours. “I need to suck his dick.”

Your splutter, hand almost knocking down your drink as she tugs you out of your seat and towards whoever her mystery man might be. “This is a you thing!” You hiss, trying to pull out of her grasp, but the power of a tiny drunk girl seems ridiculously Hulk-like. 

“So? What if he likes you?” Your eyes widen. “I would never live with myself if I deprived you of such a fine dick.”

“You don’t even know him! I can’t even see him!” You screech, a sudden lull in the music making your words seem too loud inside the club. Your cheeks flame, though a part of you knows no one is paying you any attention. “Mina,” you whine, shaking her hand off of you to no luck. 

She shushes you, and you can finally begin to see the outline of a man as you near the VIP area, the back of a pale head of hair being your apparent target. You huff when Mina finally manages to come to a stop, immediately ripping your hand out of hers. You look every bit the fussy child as you cross your arms over your chest while Mina makes introductions. 

“Hi,” she giggles, morphing into the classic erotic succubus as she bends over the back of the couch the man sat on. “I’m Mina, and this is my friend-” you roll your eyes, refusing to look at the gag-worthy exchange, “-and we were hoping you’d let us sit on your cock tonight?”

You choke, whirling around with flaming cheeks and wide eyes, frantically trying to rip a drunk Mina away before she can embarrass the two of you even further. “Mina!” You scold in horror, tugging her away from where she’d been lounging across the back of the couch, desperate to ignore the man she’d been flirting with, until the back of your mind registers a very familiar presence. 

“Miss ___,” a deep voice says, and you flinch, blood running cold as you whip your head to catch sight of the same chocolatey eyes that had stared you down through the rearview mirror that afternoon. 

Every alarm goes off in your head as you recall Kim Namjoon’s warning, reprimanding yourself for not heeding his words as you stare into his emotionless gaze. “Namjoon,” you flounder, and Mina’s squeals fade into the background as your cheeks flush crimson from being caught in such an uncomfortable position. 

His attention briefly breaks away to glance at Mina’s intoxicated being half hanging off of you, half sending him the horniest gaze he’s ever seen. He levels you the most Mona Lisa-esque look, and, just like the painting, you’re unsure if he’s amused or disgusted. 

Slowly, he rises from the couch, body clad in an entirely black suit with a matching black button up beneath it. His full height towers over you, despite the heels you’d donned, and you feel small and insignificant under his gaze. He eyes flicker to the couch, and you get the hint, slowly settling down your inebriated friend before turning back to him. 

“I warned you, Miss ___,” he says, shoving his lithe fingers deep into his pockets. 

Though you’d initially been frazzled by his presence, his condescending tone of voice makes something snap inside of you, your vision melting into red as you step into his space, jabbing a finger into his chest, briefly catching a whiff of his cologne. 

“Fuck off,” you seethe, and though you have to crane your head to look him in the eye, your anger does not fade away. “I don’t give a fuck off about what you said, Kim Namjoon. And I don’t give a fuck about what my father has to say about this. As a matter of fact, fuck you and fuck hi-”

Namjoon snatches your palm away from his chest, completely dwarfing it with his own as he tugs you closer to him, steely gaze on yours. “Your father has no idea you are here,” he exhales, the close proximity and the seclusion of the VIP area making it almost unnecessary for him to raise his voice above a murmur. “As far as he knows, you’re safely tucked away in bed right now, Miss ___.”

Your insides are still boiling, but you cannot deny the confusion that washes over you from his response. You’d assumed Namjoon would rat you out the moment you got into Sojin’s car. He was your father’s favorite underling, and, accordingly, his loyalty to your father was unmatched. The fact he had come to retrieve you without so much as notifying your father of your disobedience came as a shock. 

Before you can get more lost in your befuddled thoughts you push him away from you, shaking his grip off of you with disgust. He seems unfazed as he watches you fume, your friend almost forgotten. He looks away from you for a second, eyes meeting Mina’s, before she’s suddenly getting up to scamper in the direction of the dance floor. 

“Mina!” You call, turning to trail her, but Kim Namjoon stops you with a tight grip on your forearm. 

“Miss ___,” he says, voice uncomfortably close, and you can faintly feel his broad form hovering less than a few centimeters behind you. Your breath catches in your throat, his deep timbre enveloping every inch of you. “I suggest you return home before someone else discovers of your disappearance.”

You huff, his unwanted advice pushing you out of whatever trance his presence had trapped you in, and you pull out of his hold for the second time. You face him, trying to hide your breathlessness as you fix him with the most furious expression you can muster. 

Kim Namjoon seems as disinterested as ever, meeting your angry gaze with his own. You’re in a stare down then, crossing your arms over your chest to try and shield yourself from his scrutinizing eyes, which seem to be boring into the very core of your being as he waits for you to back down. 

Your heart thuds in your ears, every inch of you tight as you struggle to maintain your sturdy facade. But the longer you remain caught in his gaze, the more vulnerable you feel, desperate to conceal yourself from him and his bored expression. Eventually you’re snapping your gaze away, cheeks blazing at the immature loss. “Where’s the car?” You mutter, refusing to look at him again. 

Had he not already melted you down with his eyes alone, the soft brush against the small of your back wouldn’t have made you jump as much as it did. You let him guide you towards the club’s exit, making a mental note to make up some excuse for your friends, and hoping they hadn’t seen you leave with Kim Namjoon of all people. God, that would’ve been embarrassing. 

Similar to the afternoon’s events, he tugs open the backseat door for you, even helping you stumble inside after watching you uneasily shuffle on your heels. The door falls shut behind you, the driver’s door swinging open not long after. 

You try to ignore him as best as you can, focusing your attention on informing your friend’s of your early departure with the smoothest lie you can conjure. Namjoon doesn’t seem to be feeling any sorrow for ruining your night, and for some reason, the embarrassment you’d felt earlier begins creeping into your bones for the second time. 

Mina’s shrill voice replays in your head, her vulgar words seemingly on loop. You briefly glance at Namjoon through the rearview mirror, grateful he hadn't said anything about Mina’s inappropriate behavior. You can feel the blood rush to your face, and you quickly avert your gaze out the window, the city’s scenery quickly flashing by in the form of blinding streetlights and concrete buildings. 

It’s not long before you draw closer to your towering apartment building, Namjoon’s voice finally filtering into the heavy silence for the first time. “Miss ___, please do not hesitate to call me the next time you wish to visit your father.” You roll your eyes, toying with your purse as you prepare to step out of the vehicle. 

He pulls to a stop in front of your building, and the doorman rushes forward to assist you out of the car. You’ve barely stepped one foot out onto the curb when Namjoon calls your name again. You turn back, catching his eyes in the same mirror you’d been viewing him through all day.

You’re surprised to see a rare twinkle in his eyes, as he says, “I hope your friend has better luck tonight.”

Before you can reprimand him for saying such a comment about Mina, the doorman is helping you out, and you’re left a bewildered mess on the sidewalk as he pulls off. 

If your father was going to treat you like a child, you were going to act like one. It was only right that you took absolute advantage of Kim Namjoon’s wishes to be an absolute kiss-up to your father, and both men had encouraged you to do as much anyway. 

After your first day with Kim Namjoon as your glorified chauffeur/bodyguard, you’d begun calling him for the most mundane of tasks. Truthfully, it was a childish streak inside of you that wanted to diminish the time he spent with your father. (And, maybe, you also wanted to see another glimpse of emotion on that ridiculously gorgeous face of his.)

He’d drove you to and from your family home, even though he knew as well as you did that there were plenty other drivers who's entire job description was exactly that. He hadn’t complained, showing up to your building exactly twenty minutes after any call you made with the backseat door held open for you. 

Jennie’s douchebag boyfriend had finally broken up with her one Saturday morning, leaving her a sobbing, lonely mess. You’d called Namjoon up to drive you over at eight in the morning, and he’d shown up right away. You might’ve pulled him away from his breakfast, you theorized, the tiniest fleck of white powder curling around the corner of his plump lips. 

You’d called him to drive you to the nail salon and had made him sit in the waiting area for an hour, because you wouldn’t be able to call him afterwards with wet nails, you’d whined. You’d taken great pleasure in seeing his threatening figure nestled among all the other nail care enthusiasts. If he was displeased, he hadn't shown it, taking absolute caution of your nails as he led you back to the car. The only downside to your petty plan was when he’d had to lean over you to buckle your seatbelt for you, his face hovering over your chest so intimately you’d refused to speak on the drive home. 

Perhaps the most immature stunt you’d pulled was calling him at two in the morning, ordering him to take you to the gas station for chocolate chip cookies. 

Usually Namjoon answered your calls after the first ring, silky voice clear as he asked you where to, not so much as a greeting slipping out. However, on that night you’d almost hung up after the fourth ring, when a raspy voice had suddenly filtered through your speakers. 

“Hello?” Kim Namjoon had groaned, and your heart had stopped in your chest as you floundered for a response. There was the shuffling of sheets in the background, and your brain hadn’t kickstarted back up until you heard the delicious pop of his bones as he stretched, you assumed. 

“I-I need you,” you’d stuttered out, all traces of the malice that usually tinged your phone calls suddenly whisked out of your system. You realized the horrible phrasing of your words a little too late. There was a pause, as Namjoon let out a half-asleep chuckle that filled your ears as he glanced down at the caller ID. 

You could pinpoint the exact moment he realized it was you, the line suddenly going completely silent, only the static of the line present. Suddenly, a harsh cacophony of sounds filled your ear, and you almost dropped your phone as he coughed, before his usual monotone voice filled the line. “Miss ___, where to?”

All signs of the groggy Namjoon were wiped clean, and it was as if you were talking to a completely different person as he patiently awaited your response. Your brain racked for a response, and you begun spluttering the first thing that you could conjure. 

“The gas station, I want cookies, like right now, so you better get your ass over here as soon as fucking possible, ASAP,” you rambled, trying to mask your own embarrassment with the annoyed tone you usually took on when speaking to Namjoon. He sent a formal confirmation your way, and you hung up as soon as he told you he’d be over soon. 

You’d been planning on changing into something more acceptable by society’s standards, but you ended up pacing pack and forth as you tried to calm yourself before Namjoon’s arrival. In the end, the elevator was halfway to the ground when you belatedly realized you had remained in your ridiculous pink booty shorts and oversized long sleeved t-shirt. You cursed, hoping Namjoon’s tired demeanor meant he wouldn’t step out of the car tonight to follow you like he usually does, and you could slip in and out undetected. 

Much to your horror, he was, like always, waiting for you outside the door. Though he looked every bit the stone-hearted mafia member, you couldn’t ignore the softness that curled around his figure, present in the way his eyes were swollen, his hair styled sans gel, and the fact he’d forgone his usual suited attire for a plain black shirt that stretched deliciously over his muscles. 

You ducked into the car, refusing to meet his gaze. Even while he drove, you kept your eyes set firmly on your lap or out the window. That vulnerable feeling you’d felt all those weeks ago crept up your spine, and you absolutely hated it, especially when it was caused by none other than Kim Namjoon. 

The car slowed to a stop in front of one of those twenty-four hour mini marts, and Namjoon shifted the car into park. “You didn’t specify where exactly, Miss ___. I hope here is fine.”

You nodded, throwing the door open and letting yourself out before he could even unbuckle his own seatbelt. He said nothing as he trailed after you, momentarily losing you inside the artificially lit store, before finding you near the snack aisle. 

Your heart thudded in your chest, as your eyes blankly scanned over the shelves. What were you here for again? Your mind was in complete shambles as you tried to ignore the want that grew in the pit of your stomach, pushing it down with other thoughts instead. 

You’ve been spoiled since birth by your parents, anything you wanted being placed in the palm of your hand. You could ask for the hottest celebrity to come visit you, and your sneaky father would somehow pull the strings together. You had cars and apartments and clothes that people your age wish they could have. So why was your stupid body craving the emotionless bodyguard—the same one that you feared was tearing your father away from you?

You’re jolted out of your consuming thoughts when a body brushes against you. You immediately move to shift away, only to feel the other person follow your movements. “Alone, sweetheart?” A gruff voice murmurs against your ear, and your body completely stills as you feel calloused hands brush against the sides of your very exposed legs. 

Years of self-defense classes trickle down the drain as you become paralyzed with terror, hands clutching at the bag of candies you’d grabbed sometime during your mental spiraling. Your brain faintly clicks into place, though it sounds muddled behind the fear that grips at every part of you, telling you to push yourself away, call for help, something. 

Just as your vocal chords finally begin working with you, the awful feeling goes away. You whip around, briefly catching sight of Namjoon’s furious expression as he drags the man planning to defile you out of the mini-mart. You’re frozen in place as you hear their scuffling bodies grow further and further away, until the tiny bell above the entryway gives one final innocent jingle and you’re enveloped in relative silence, the obnoxious overhead music running quietly. 

Belatedly, your legs spur you into action, and you drop the plastic bag in favor of rushing out after Namjoon. The cold air whips at your face as you shove the door open, glancing back and forth to no avail; they’re nowhere in sight. However, the sleek automobile is still parked a few meters away from you, so you begin sprinting towards that, past an alleyway where—

You come to a screeching halt, eyes trained on the two bodies tussling in the darkness. You stumble closer, eyes struggling to focus, before finally making out Kim Namjoon’s lean figure towering over the man who’d grabbed you. You gasp when Namjoon’s hand comes barreling into the man’s face, the weaker of the two struggling to fight back, but you’ve heard enough rumors to know what kind of fighter Kim Namjoon is. 

His fists move at an inhuman speed, jabbing at any part of the man he can get. Just as your eyes adjust to the darkness, you catch sight of Namjoon’s livid side profile, his silvery locks falling across his eyes as he continues to beat the living shit out of the man beneath him. 

You’re not sure if it’s the want to see the entirety of his expression face-to-face, or if it’s the fact that you knew Namjoon would literally kill this man if you let him, that has you rushing to stop him. 

“Namjoon!” You shout, footsteps thundering against the gravelly pavement before coming to a halt a meter away, careful of your own safety as you recall the rumors that surround Namjoon; he was a rabid fighter when provoked, which explains why he fought so desperately to maintain his emotions in check at all times. You step closer, wincing after a particularly hard punch that leaves the man wailing in pain, blood spluttering out of his busted lip. There’s a splattering of blood decorating Namjoon’s face and arms, and you can undoubtedly say it’s definitely not his own. 

You decide to suck it up and reach for him, part of your childish mind still thinking that hey, if he hurts you, at least he won’t be your father’s favorite anymore. 

Your hands shakily settle across his rippling shoulder blades, careful to avoid his elbows as they swing back and forth, fingers gently gliding around until they’re loosely placed around the base of his neck. “Namjoon,” you call out, daringly stepping closer, until your chest is almost pressed against his back. 

Up close, his ragged breath sounds animalistic, his chest heaving with each gulp of air he takes. He must be at least somewhat aware of your presence, because his arms slow down until he’s just grasping the man by the collar, and you gag at the sight of the bloodied face of your attacker. 

“Hey,” you say, finally slotting your body against his, fingers softly dancing over his skin. “Let go of him, Joon,” you murmur, the nickname absentmindedly slipping through your lips as you continue pressing your fingers into the tight muscle. You become more emboldened when the man goes slack in his grip, and you lift one hand up to tilt Namjoon’s wild gaze away from him. 

“Look, look,” you say, turning his chin until his wide, unstable eyes are on your own. “I’m okay, Namjoon,” you hum, using the hand not preoccupied holding his chin to slide down his arm, pressing down with a lot of force, until Namjoon lets go of the man. “It’s okay,” you add, trying to repeat the same process with his other hand. 

"I-,” Namjoon chokes out, body tensing beneath your touch when the man lets out a low groan, blood dribbling out of his lips. “He touched you,” he seethes, and though his face is pointed your way, his eyes are flickering to the side, desperately trying to see his punching bag. Namjoon’s own lower lip trembles with rage, and you have to run a palm down the side of his face, quietly shushing him. 

“I know, I know, but look,” you urge, stroking his cheek until his wild eyes finally meet yours. “I’m okay, it’s oka-”

“It’s not!” Namjoon roars, turning back to shove your assailant against the brick wall of the mini mart. You immediately try to tug him back to you and your terrible attempts at calming him. “He’s not allowed to fucking touch you!”

“Joon, calm down,” you beg, instinctively locking your arms around your neck, throwing any reservations about your own safety out the window, your attention solely focused on making sure Namjoon doesn’t kill this man behind your local family mini mart. 

Though he’s blinded by his own emotions, he’s still aware of your presence, and the fact you’re his boss’s kid probably. Namjoon pauses, watching the battered man slowly sink down to the ground, one of his split knuckles coming to clutch at the trembling forearm you’ve strapped across his chest. 

“I have to kill him,” he grits out, fingers squeezing around your arm gently compared to the absolute brute strength he'd used to drag the guy out of the mart a mere five minutes ago. You tighten your grip, struggling to keep your toes on the floor as he attempts to shrug you off. 

“Let’s go,” you huff, mustering up the strength to yank him backwards, the two of you flying into the opposite wall of the cramped alleyway. Your back hits the brick first, and you yelp in shock, the sound seeming to catch Namjoon’s attention and he whirls around, eyes wide and frantic as he analyzes your expressions. His worry intensifies as he becomes desperate to assure himself he hadn't hurt you.

“Joonie,” you pant, taking this opportunity to finally reach the logical part of him, cupping his face in your hands, forehead pressing together. His nickname slips past your lips without much thought, and his wild gaze finally calms down at your soft voice, slowly turning into long, drawn out blinks. “Let’s go,” you whisper, and he nods, eyes finally falling shut, lashes gently fluttering against his skin. 

It’s a weird feeling to finally be in the driver’s seat of the Mercedes, Namjoon silently sitting in the passenger seat. You fix the rear view mirror, pressing down on the gas, as you shift the car into drive, pulling away from the scene. 

The drive back to your apartment is mostly silent after you tell him you’re going to clean him up. Other than that, it’s awkward, you nervously drumming your fingers along the steering wheel as Namjoon seems to be staring blankly out the windshield. You don’t bother to make conversation, not really sure how to bring up the overwhelmed Namjoon of ten minutes ago to the emotionless one of now. His knuckles are swollen, the skin pinched around his rings, and resting on his knees. 

You’ve been forcing Namjoon to drive you around for so long, the path to your building’s underground parking garage seems unfamiliar to you as you pull into a parking space. You shuffle out of the car wordlessly, taking the elevator all the way up to your floor in the same practiced silence that’s plagued you since the events behind the mart. 

It’s not long until you’re letting him into your spacious apartment, gesturing towards the couch as you scamper off for the first aid kit shoved into your bathroom cabinets. When you return, Namjoon has yet to sit down.

“Sit down,” you order, and he does. You kneel down before him, taking his battered hands into yours as you give them a brief inspection, before reaching for the wet rag you’d brought down. 

If it stings, Namjoon doesn’t say anything, letting you wipe the dried blood off his skin. The fact it’s not even his makes you want to gag, but you suppress the feeling as you push through your job, dutifully tracing the rag along his veins. Tugging his rings off is where the real struggle comes, his minuscule winces making you hesitant to pinch his skin any further. 

“Let me,” he says, jiggling a ring back and forth, loosening it up until he can somewhat pop it off his finger without too much pain. You kneel back and watch him remove his collection of jewelry. 

He’s ignored your gaze since the moment you stepped out of the elevator, and you duck your head just the slightest in a cliche attempt to look him in the eye. “You didn’t have to do that,” you murmur, toying with the rag in your hands. 

He snorts, and you startle at such a blatant display of emotion from Kim Namjoon. “I should’ve killed the fucker,” he mutters, tossing his rings onto the couch beside him without much care. 

You take his hands in yours again, trailing the cloth between his long fingers silently. Every now and then, his fingers will involuntarily curl up, and he’ll exhale harshly through his nose. You presume it’s him trying to suppress the carnal anger that builds up at the memory. 

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you give up a wise crack. “Well now I can confirm you’re not an emotionless robot,” you joke, though you quickly shut up when he doesn’t reciprocate your goofy smile. You purse your lips, hurrying through one hand before moving onto the next, his fingers involuntarily curling around yours. Your heart thunders. 

Just as you’re calming your racing heart, Namjoon says, “your father is going to be so disappointed in me.”

Your jaw tenses, your movements pausing as the words register in your mind. Before you can completely blow up about it, you spit out a curt response. “He won't be. You’re his perfect little protégé.”

“Doesn’t mean he can’t be disappointed in me,” Namjoon retorts, and you roll your eyes, the anger and jealousy that had been the root cause of your and Namjoon’s servant-like relationship taking refuge in the back of your throat. 

“He literally won’t be,” you huff, too worried about how disgusted your father will be when he learns of your weakness, and how he’ll use your inability to fight back as a leverage, citing it as another reason why you can’t be around the family business. “He’ll be sooo fucking proud you saved me,” you croak, your heart wrenching with sadness. 

Namjoon says nothing. 

You wipe his hands clean and apply the antiseptic quickly, your throat constricting with every passing second as you imagine the utter disgust that will certainly cross your father’s features when Namjoon informs him of tonight’s incident. Your fingers tremble as you carefully wrap his knuckles with a thin bandage, eyes growing wetter with each loop around his hand. 

When you finally finish, it’s taking everything in you to hold back the flood of tears threatening your waterline, and you’re hoping Namjoon will simply thank you before disappearing off into the night. 

You don’t want Kim Namjoon, of all people, to see you cry. 

“All done,” you murmur, patting the back of his hands as you rise to your feet. You shuffle to return the items into the kit, lazily tossing the bloodstained towel on top of the closed box afterwards. 

His hand catches your wrist. “Why do you hate me?” Namjoon asks, and it’s the first time he hasn’t spoken so formally around you, addressing you so casually. You inhale a shaky breath, a resigned smile plastering itself across your face, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“You have the one thing I actually want,” you admit, shaking your head at his confused expression. Now that you’ve seen Namjoon act like a normal human being, or, as normal as watching him nearly kill a man can be, the idea of him being some distantly stoic figure feels weird to think about. You sigh, placing the first aid kit on the coffee table. 

“I just wanna be close to my dad,” you huff, your words caught on a whimper that you bite back. You press the heels of your palms against your eyes, shoulders trembling with the sobs you fight to contain. “I’d do anything to spend time with him,” you choke out, rubbing at your eyes until you’re seeing stars, “but all he ever wants is to see you.”

A pitiful sob escapes your lips, and you don’t even bother feeling embarrassed in front of Kim Namjoon anymore. The feelings of uselessness you’d harbored for so long that they’d manifested into a raging jealousy release themselves into the silence of your apartment. You cry and Namjoon watches you. 

There’s a hand pressing into your shoulder after a few moments, and you wipe the fat tears away and look off somewhere to the side. 

“I didn’t know,” Namjoon murmurs, and you give an ugly sniffle in response. His hand drops from your frame to scratch at the back of his neck. 

You scoff, whirling around to narrow your teary eyes at him. “Of course you fucking didn’t, you were too busy kissing his ass every chance you got,” you spit, and Namjoon’s eyes blow out into saucers. 

“I was just doing my job,” he defends, the sympathetic aura he’d held quickly fading into a more defensive one. 

“Oh really?” You exclaim, not backing away when he stands from his perch on the couch, towering over you as you continue your onslaught. “Was your job being a fucking show off? Or was it purposefully making me look like a little bitch in front of my father?”

Namjoon steps into your space, grasping your wrists in his hands to stop your explosive way of talking. “You need to calm do-”

You cackle, fists clenched against his grip. “That’s real funny coming from you, Namjoon,” you mock, and his jaw twitches, a brief spark of that animalistic side of him listing his eyes before he’s tightening his hands around your skin. “Unlike you, I actually know how to control myself.”

“I just wanted to save you tonight,” he fumes, looking so indescribably wrong inside your apartment. Had it been the regular Kim Namjoon with his perfectly styled hair and schooled expressions, maybe you would have not questioned his presence. 

But this Namjoon is completely unknown. He’s bold and strong in a way only young men can be, his temper as untamed as his silvery locks that fall out of place, tickling his forehead. He’s normal, you guess, but admitting as much feels weird. 

“So you can go tell my dad about it?” You spit, desperately shaking your hands out of his grip to no avail. “Admit it, Namjoon, if it was any other girl you wouldn’t have batted an eye, because you only care about yourself and your dumb ass reputation to—”

Your back meets the cushioned seats of the couch, wrangled there by Namjoon’s own strength as he presses you down onto it. He towers over you, radiating pure, unadulterated anger as he stares you down. “You’re right, I fucking wouldn’t have,” he seethes, and you huff and growl as you struggle to pry your hands out of his hold for the nth time, before he eventually settles on pinning them beside your head in irritation. 

“But since it was your little princess ass, I fucking have to,” he growls, and you faintly register the knee he presses between your legs as you glare up at him. “Miss ‘I get everything I want because my daddy’s rich,’” he mocks, voice raising into an obnoxious imitation of what you must sound like. 

You scoff, thrashing beneath him. He pays you no attention, continuing to taunt you. “’I want to help him at work, but I can’t even defend myself against the weakest of strangers,’” he teases, and you keep squirming against him, only fueling his efforts. “You’re such a fucking bitch,” he spits, and you flinch under his gaze. “Is there anything you actually can do?”

Your anger is rolling off of you in waves, but as you move again, his knee brushes against your most sensitive of parts, and a horrifying whimper escapes from your throat. 

You immediately freeze, desperately wracking your brain for some sort of excuse, but the annoyed grunts and growls you’d been releasing sound nothing like the absolutely vulgar noise that had crawled out from between your lips, and by the way Namjoon’s furious expression melts off his face, you know he’s also realized this. 

You try to search your brain for how exactly this had happened. The heat that had been boiling inside of you—the absolute rage you’d been feeling—hadn’t actually been anger? Exactly when did your body decide now was as good as ever to feel like this?

For a moment, your apartment is silent. The only sound you hear is the rushing of blood in your ears, lips pressed together as you fight down the inevitable flush that decorates your face. Maybe if you hadn’t been so focused on controlling your breathing you might have taken advantage of the brief moment in which Namjoon had loosened his grip on you. 

“Listen,” you huff, tongue running over your lips. You try to ignore the way Namjoon’s clouded gaze glances down at them. “I’m still in a lot of shock from all that happened tonight and—” your words are cut short when Namjoon’s leg purposefully brushes against your core, another high-pitched whine ripping itself out of your throat.

Namjoon snorts. 

“So that’s what this is about,” he says, his looming figure somehow ten times more dangerous than before. You feel yourself grow incredibly small beneath him, even more so when he ducks down until your faces are close, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. 

“All this time, were you waiting for this, Miss ___?” He murmurs, his breath hot against your face. You say nothing, the muscles of your thighs clenched tight as you try to remain as still as possible. He presses a kiss to your cheekbone, and the simple gesture has you releasing a breath you hadn’t known you’ve been holding. “I need an answer.”

“N-No,” you cry out, turning your head away from him, though you desperately want to feel that witty tongue against your folds. That same stuck-up ego of yours tries to remind you, you hate Kim Namjoon, but to no avail. 

Namjoon smiles, the curves of his sinfully plush lips pressed against your jaw, giving a teasing squeeze to your weak hands. “Miss ___, I didn’t take you to be such a liar,” he breathes, kissing along your jaw and down your neck. Your sharp inhale pierces through the air, and your traitorous body has your legs tightening around his waist. The deep chuckle that leaves him has every part of you vibrating, eyes fluttering shut beneath the delicious feel of his mouth. 

“Stop being a little bitch and let me take care of you,” he reprimands, voice soft yet authoritative as leans closer, your chests brushing together. You bite your tongue too late, a pitiful whine leaving your lips. Namjoon lets out another soft huff of laughter around your neck, pausing his languid kisses. 

“I’m not a-a little bitch,” you weakly defend, trembling beneath him as he licks at a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. 

“Of course you aren't, Miss ___,” he agrees, though you feel he only does it to placate you. “But you must be so tired. Always trying to win your pop’s attention,” he sighs, and lifts his head up to level you with a heated gaze. You feel your lower lip tremble. He leans in, soft lips brushing against yours in a short kiss. “But you can have all of mine, princess,” he promises, gently nipping at your lip, enough to have your back arching into his solid chest. “I know I’m not your daddy but—”

You unexpectedly whine at his wording, and Namjoon grins against your mouth, swallowing the sound. He pulls off with a lewd pop. “Unless you want me to be, of course,” he propositions, and you don’t know what comes over you as you furiously nod your head. “Perfect,” he praises, one hand finally releasing you to trace down your body instead, his ridiculously large palm gliding over your thigh, hitching it higher up his waist. “Will you let me, princess?”

“Yes,” you breathe, your trembling hand stretching forward to wrap around his neck, forcefully pulling him closer to you. 

“Yes... what?” Namjoon tests, letting you manhandle him into another desperate kiss, and you wonder if your arousal has seeped through the fabric of those thin booty shorts. 

“Yes, daddy,” you say back, and the wicked grin is the last thing you feel before he’s looping his hands beneath you and tugging you into his lap. A tiny shriek leaves your lips, before you settle onto your new seat. 

Any traces of Namjoon’s smile are wiped clean as he stares up at you, fingers digging into your waist. “You’ve been really naughty tonight, princess,” he calmly says, and though you’re on top of him, you still feel like you’re below him. “Calling me in the middle of the night to come get you— what was that little thing you said to me on the phone again?”

Your cheeks tinge as you recall the words you’d uttered to him over the phone. Granted you hadn’t meant them in that way, it was somewhat relieving to know he’d been effected by them. “I need you,” you repeat in that same timid voice that had spoken to him earlier in the night. 

Namjoon lets out a low whistle at your words, basking in the embarrassment that swallows you. “How bold of you,” he says in a quiet voice, fingers gripping harder into you, pushing you down onto his cock, hardened beneath his jeans. You gasp, hands digging into his shoulders in surprise. 

“I wanna make you cum so bad,” he sighs, guiding you through the same motion again. “But, I was so fucking pissed off at you tonight,” he informs you, and your heart clenches at the irritated glance he shoots you. “Calling me in the middle of the night to get a pack of fucking gummy bears. Who do you think you are?”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you gasp, letting him haul you onto his clothed dick again. 

“Did you want my attention that bad?” He asks. “Well you have it now.” His hands slowly release you, and you whine back arching as you rut into him again. He leans back into the comfort of the couch cushions, arms casually slung across the back as he watches you. “I know you’re already so spoiled , so why don't you actually work for something for once?” He suggests, and your mind blanks as you struggle to figure out what he means. “Get yourself off for me, princess,” he commands, watching you through hooded eyes. 

You whine, lower lip drawing to a pout as you realize he’s really waiting for you, eyes flickering off to the side in a bored manner. 

Pushing any last traces of self-respect aside, you dig your fingers into his shoulders once more, slowly grinding yourself against him until all the humiliation is replaced with pleasure, your panties caught against your wetness. “Daddy,” you cry out, pleased to feel his cock plumping up beneath you. 

Your movements grow short and stilted as you carry on, rutting against him like an animal. Your eyes squeeze shut, because the foggy haze of euphoria isn't completely enough to ignore the sneering expression he wears as he watches your desperate form. “Look at you,” he murmurs, almost in awe. 

There’s a soft brush against your side, and you flinch before realizing it’s his hand, pushing the oversized shirt up until his bandaged fingers rest against the soft skin over your ribcage. “Need more, daddy,” you whimper, your lower abdomen starting to ache from all the movement. 

“Nuh uh,” Namjoon teases, though his hands continue to pet you. “You’ve become so selfish, princess,” he says, leaning forward to nip at your jaw. Your breath catches in your throat at the gesture. “But I promise, once you do this, I’ll take care of you for the rest of the night.”

The idea seems all too agreeable, and with a renewed vigor, you begin your wild thrusting against him. The rough denim of his jeans brushes the undersides of your thighs, and you’re suddenly aware how close you’ve come to your orgasm. A moan catches in your throat when you feel a finger brush the underside of your bra cups, Namjoon’s cold hands tracing over the soft flesh of your stomach. “That’s it,” he encourages, voice low as he watches you move your hips back and forth, the speed picking up as your orgasm draws closer. 

It hits you embarrassingly quickly, your back arching as Namjoon’s soft hands hold onto your sides. There’s a sudden bloom of wetness across your panties, soaking through until even your shorts become tinged with your cum. Your words catch in your throat, cheeks blazing as you catch his eye. 

Namjoon smirks, cupping your jaw in his hands to draw you in for another steamy kiss. This time, his tongue licks into your mouth, the wet appendage reaching into the warmth as you struggle to catch your breath. That humiliating orgasm lingers in the back of your mind. 

“You worked so hard,” Namjoon praises, and you melt into his embrace when you feel a stray finger press against your core, dancing along the stained material of your shorts. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly says, and your heart stops at the sudden apology, uncharacteristic of Namjoon. “I would stretch you out but my fingers are too nasty to be inside of my princess.” The scalding feel of his finger against you leaves as he raises his hand to brandish his bandaged fingers, his digits wiggling as if to emphasize their appearance. 

You grimace, and he laughs at your reaction. “Can you take me like this?” He asks, and you bite your lip as you consider it. Truthfully, you hadn’t had sex in a while, so you were undoubtedly tight down there. But then again, you had just orgasmed, and naturally your body became more relaxed after such strenuous activity. 

“I think I can,” you murmur, your voice dripping with hesitation that he quickly kisses away. 

“You don’t have to if you don't want to,” he assures, his voice almost back to the normal Kim Namjoon you’d been seeing for the past few weeks. “But I’m serious about taking care of you, princess,” he adds, softly. 

With those words and a newly found resolve, you push away any doubts and shake your head at his new offer. “No, fuck me, please,” you nearly beg, nudging his nose with your own as you search for a kiss from those sinful lips. “I want you to, daddy.”

Namjoon placates you with one brief peck, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you into him. “Good girl,” he exhales, relief tainting every syllable that leaves his mouth as he holds you in his embrace. “Gonna fuck you so good,” he promises, his head deliciously nuzzled between your breasts. “But I need you to take off these cute little shorts first.”

He runs a finger along the elastic of your shorts, letting it snap back to your skin with a loud thwack. You flinch, Namjoon’s large palms soothingly rubbing over the curve of your ass, palming the two globes with much appreciation. His hands dip into your backside, pushing the garment off as he encourages you to rise to your knees. With a little struggle, he manages to tug those horrid shorts off of you, leaving you in a pair of cheeky lace panties, the pale blue considerably darker where your arousal had leaked through earlier. 

“You’ve become so dirty,” Namjoon scolds, using the least damaged of his two hands to trail one finger over the beginning of your womanhood, teasingly pressing over where he knows your clitoris is hiding. You keen, tugging your large shirt up higher in an effort to see what he’s doing. His fingers twitch as he presses them over your saturated undergarments, as if he were wishing he could do more but is prohibited by the state of his hands. Just as you’d thought, he utters out a strained, “fuck.”

“Daddy, need you inside of me,” you pant, your hips unconsciously jolting into his fingers. He nods, pressing a hand into your shoulder to move you away as he undoes his belt buckle. Anticipation catches in your chest as you watch his every move, nimble fingers tugging his belt through the metal buckle before he’s popping open the button of his jeans. An unconscious moan slips past your lips when he pulls them down to reveal his simple grey underwear, pulled taut around his erection. 

He flashes you one final grin before he’s letting his cock spring free, the flaming tip smacking against the planes of his stomach. Your thighs quiver at the sight, but Namjoon doesn’t let you ogle him for long. He pulls you into his chest, and you cry out when you feel his cock brush against your core, hands burying themselves in his unruly hair. 

“Promise I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs against your jaw, grabbing onto the base of his cock with one hand while you twist your arm backwards to tug your underwear to the side. Realistically, you know he can't be as gentle as he wishes, especially because you haven’t been stretched out properly. But you’re so caught up in the idea of finally resolving this unspoken of sexual tension that you don’t mind the pain that’s destined to come. 

His head pushes against your throbbing opening, and you can’t believe it’s actually possible to feel your heartbeat through your pussy, but here you are. You gasp, every part of you tightening as his head pops through that initial tight ring of muscle. Namjoon, for the first time, shows you how effected he is with a low moan. “So tight,” he chokes out, that stupid smile still adorning his features. 

The absolute girth of his cock has tears welling in your eyes, and you squeeze them shut in an attempt to push them away, your lip caught between your teeth hard enough to dry blood. Namjoon soothes you with kisses along your jawline, his hand rubbing soothing circles along your hip. “You’re doing so good for me, princess,” he murmurs, and takes advantage of the moan that rips out of you by shoving further into you. 

You scream when your knees give out, and you end up falling down onto the rest of his cock, back arching when his tip brushes against your cervix. Namjoon groans in unison at your sudden movement, and for a moment, the room goes quiet. 

“Shit,” Namjoon huffs, the end of his voice tinged with laughter. Your body is slowly pulling itself out from the sudden shock, spine going numb. Namjoon reaches out to catch you, laying you against his chest. “Good girl,” he praises, “daddy couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

Your pussy clenches at his words, and sensing this, Namjoon slowly grinds upwards into you. You whimper, still sensitive from that weak orgasm from earlier. “Gonna fuck you now, princess,” he informs you. “Want me to lay you down or are you good like this?” 

It takes a second for you to realize he’s asked you something, and you belatedly murmur, “lay down,” against his neck. 

Namjoon wastes no time, hauling you off the couch in his arms, fingers pressed into the backs of your thighs. He whirls around, carefully depositing you on the soft cushion. Each movement has him shifting inside of you, and you can feel your breaths become more and more labored by the time he finally covers you with his body, one hand pressing your leg against the couch beside you. 

The first official thrust has you wantonly moaning like a porn star, and you shove a hand over your mouth in embarrassment. “Daddy,” you whimper, gluing the heel of your foot to the base of his spine as you try to push him in deeper. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Namjoon says, tugging your hand away from your mouth only to replace it with his lips. “We’re just getting started.”

Before you can say anything in response, he’s ramming his cock into you again, the sheer strength of his movements shifting you up the couch. You cry out, tangling your hands around his neck in an effort to anchor yourself to him. Despite you believing he was just starting off strong, he sets a similar pace to that thrust, his hips snapping into you with lethal force. 

“Fuck,” you sob, lips pressed against his temple as he continues his ministrations. He’s set a sort of pattern, you notice after a while, every few thrusts topped off with a lewd grind of his core against yours, your clitoris very much enjoying that little addition of his. “Faster, daddy, please,” you pant, arching into him as he pushes against you. 

Your walls convulse, your second orgasm drawing embarrassingly near, but it’s Kim Namjoon doing this, so what can you expect? 

“Look at you,” Namjoon huffs in amusement, slowing his movements until he’s shallowly thrusting into you, reveling in the way you whine for more. “So stuck-up and bitchy, getting your tight little pussy fucked by me, of all people,” he sneers, biting against your shoulder. 

“Sh-Shut the fuck up,” you breathe, hips pushing forward to meet his, desperately urging him to pick up his pace again. 

Namjoon snorts. “Don’t tell me what to do, ___,” he spits, pulling nearly all the way out, only his swollen head inside, just to slam back into you. You moan when your vision goes blurry for a second. “Look at the snobby little princess,” he mocks, fingers gripping into your hips tightly, “getting fucked like a little bitch.”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, Namjoon,” you groan, digging your nails into his shoulder as a warning. 

Namjoon reaches his good hand down to toy with your swollen bud, and you hiss. “Sorry, who are you talking to?”

“I-I’m serious, Namj—”

He gives your clit a delicious little squeeze, your words cut off by a mewl. “Who?” He repeats, pushing the bundle of nerves back and forth between his fingers, mouth licking along the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Weren’t you supposed to call me something else tonight?” He bites down on your skin, hard enough to bruise, but you suppose that was his intention anyway. When you don’t answer, he pulls away, that teasing gaze of his locked on yours. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten,” Namjoon murmurs, his hips rocking into yours. You whine, teeth clenching with every shift. “Just say it now and I’ll make you cum right away, princess.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, the residual hurt from his mocking words from earlier leaving without much of a doubt. 

Luckily, Namjoon doesn’t seem too offended, those plush lips of his tugging into a lopsided smirk. “Already am,” he murmurs, and you watch him shift from playful to animalistic, his hips picking up that same arduous pace from earlier. 

You don’t say much between the two of you after that, his attention zeroing in on your throbbing pussy walls as he rams into you like a dog in heat, your high-pitched whines and mewls filling the night air, occasionally accompanied by the low grunts that leave his mouth every time you clench around his length. 

You can feel the burn of his cock against your abused pussy, every drag leaving a burning feeling. You begin blabbering nonsense, a trait uncharacteristic of you, as your orgasm draws nearer. When you think back on it, you’re not exactly sure what you’d said, and Namjoon hadn’t dwelled on your incoherent thoughts either. 

Truthfully, this whole night with Namjoon had been humiliating. Arousing, but undeniably humiliating. He’d revealed new aspects of you that you’d never known of, had reduced you to a sobbing mess multiple times, and then had even had the balls to mock you while his cock was buried deep inside of you. It only makes sense that your orgasm is the same, the burning heat finally brimming over the edge disgustingly prematurely, your walls spasming around him with a loud, “daddy” falling from your lips.

“Fuck,” Namjoon grunts, his hips only seeming to pick up their already brutal pace as you coat his dick with your arousal, body quickly falling lax beneath him. His hips slap against yours, and the feeling has your already sensitive body quivering. 

“Come on, daddy,” you breathlessly murmur, trailing a hand down the side of his face, before pulling him into a languid kiss. It’s the first one you’ve been in command of, slotting your mouths together before slipping your tongue past those plump lips that have had you hypnotized all night. 

Namjoon grows restless, and you swallow every little sound he makes, before he’s hastily pulling out of you, giving his swollen cock a few harsh pulls before shooting across your open legs. Another curse slips through his lips, his member softening in his grip. 

For a few moments, your body seems completely okay with the idea of falling asleep right then and there, your vision going hazy as you stare up at Namjoon’s towering figure. Namjoon doesn’t seem to agree though, and your heart jumps into your throat when he pulls his shirt over his head, his never before seen body coming into view. Before you can get too excited though, he’s dragging the cloth along your thighs and between your legs, and you cry out from oversensitivity. 

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee, dutifully cleaning you off before tossing his soiled clothing somewhere onto the ground. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his large palms running alongside your thighs, his voice lulling you to sleep. “Where’s your room, princess?”

Your own voice comes out sleepily, giving him the most basic directions you can remember. There’s a pleasant buzzing in your chest when he gently picks you up, but the rest of your memories become fuzzy after he tucks you into bed. 

Your phone rings a little past noon, and you groggily reach out for it, swiping the answer button cross the screen. Your father’s voice greets you in a panicked frenzy. 

“Sweetie, I know you were supposed to drop by right now, but none of us can get a hold of that damn kid,” he rushes, his silence not actually silent as it fills the receiver with the bustling sounds of his office. “As soon as I get my hands on him, I’m gonna kill him.”

You yawn, running a hand over your eyes as you glance at the time. “It’s fine,” you murmur, “I gave Namjoon the day off.”

Your father chokes. “You did what? Honey, I know he’s technically working under you right now, but you can’t do that, especially not with one of my most prized pupi-”

“Bye, dad,” you drawl, hanging up before he can get another word in. You toss your phone off to the side, rolling over in your bed until your body bumps into another one, soft and warm, muscles delicious beneath your fingers. You rearrange their limbs until their arms are wrapped around you, your nose pressed against his neck. 

Namjoon snorts, tightening his grip around you. “Spoiled as fuck.”

[wojtekbc]

D&D Session Summaries for 8&9

So there were some things that needed to be sorted out, which is why these two have been bundled together. Details of what actually happened will be listed later in the post.

When last we left our heroes... Returning to the city of Octin after defending Ravenhome from a detachment of Warbreed, the heroes arrived in time to celebrate their victory with a festival. Fun was had, drinks were imbibed, Shura won the axe of the antediluvian war spirit Gonzo in an arm wrestling contest... you know how festivals go! All went well until our heroes encountered a procession heading through the heart of the city; the daughter of the Duke Fabron and an eastern noblewoman are to be wed in a couple days! Oh? It’s Naoise’s @bluethegirl​ wife??? Well, we were planning on crashing a wedding in the east, and it seems to have appeared in front of us... All the more reason to disrupt political marriages if it’s linked to the party! Saturday morning starts like all others do for our brave heroes, with a hearty breakfast at a table in the closest thing we have to a home right now, the Affable Undulate, and a long discussion of what we are getting up to today. We have a wedding to crash, a meeting with our benefactor to attend, drugs to sell(???), typical day for the lads, really. Now, we know that we need to figure out where Allavara is actually being kept, and we’re waiting for night to rescue her, so discussion quickly turns to what to do about Guinevere Greysteel, our powerful councilwoman contractor. We have done jobs for her, sure, but we did kill Galen/The Wizard formerly known as Ketracel (at this point Cerna @pantographicclone​, who had been off on Cerna Business, manifests behind the party and tells us that we could just kill them all) so maybe we don’t lead with that? Maybe we sell her the drugs? Ellie @xynnos​ wants to bury it in the forest to keep it away from everyone, but we all pinky promise not to drink the orc juice and let him have some when he wants to Get Feral. So we finish up with food and show up at the Greysteel manse in the wealthy district of Octin so to meet with Guinevere early in the morning. We’re all introduced and then she begins to ask us about our contracts, namely what happened in Ravenhome. Shura tells her that yes, another force of Warbreed were demanding tribute from the town in livery of green and purple, that of the Duke Fabron, and that we forced them to move on by beating their leadership in combat. Jawbones @darkseldarine​ mentions that they were summoning demons, to which Greysteel says “I might need to make up with my cousin if magic is involved.” Shura, being a dumbass without an off switch, ounce of charisma and no impulse control in situations Like This, asks “Who is your cousin?” every one of the party and players knowing damn well it’s the fucking corpse we buried in a shallow grave in Ravenhome after Rowan @krunk-mcdunk​ brained the poor fucker less than a week ago. Ellie quickly realises there’s no easy way to shut Shura up without cutting him off, so we’re stuck with this lie. You know the drill, “What’s your relationship with this dude?” “Oooooh he’s missing??? That sucks, man” “No we haven’t seen him!” Strangely enough, it’s not Shura who almost fucks us up at this part, but our lovable ranger Jawbones(Jawbones!) saying “Hey! Didn’t Rowan...see a wizard? And clobbered him??”  Yet THAT doesn’t do us in either! What does is us talking about the orc juice and Shura lying through his fucking teeth and saying no. Greysteel:“Hand it over.” Shura: “And why should we.” Greysteel: “Well, name your price.” Shura: “We have a few vials left, alright, and we will hand it over on one condition. Our friend here, miss Naoise, is gonna need protection very soon, and she won’t be the only one. She needs to lay low, and we know the Greysteels can help us with that. If you want this potion, you will help us.” Greysteel: “Two vials for your protection, and you take another job, and you set up a meeting between me and the Kingless.” Shura: “Yeah that’s reasonable, but what’s the job? I’m not signing everyone up for it.” Greysteel: “I have intel on cults within the city.” Shura: “Sounds like my line of work.” Greysteel: “You’ll meet with my informant at 2, at this address. It’s possible this potion came from my cousin.” Greysteel tells us that the Baron and his entourage are staying at the Duke’s old castle, just outside the city. We get our pay for the contracts and move on. Some of the party go and say hey to the musketeers in their coffeehouse to tell them they have a meeting with the councilwoman, nothing really comes of that. Ellie and Cerna go to the library to see if Ellie can learn about the castle and any secret entries. So the rest of the day is basically relying on a Rowan/Jawbones stealth mission to figure out the defenses and state of the castle for the night operation we’re planning on pulling. Rowan and Jawbones manage to spot the tower Allavara is staying in while completely blanking on what the guards are up to. Jawbones also spots a room in strangely pristine condition not too far from the tower. The group meet up and discuss this and Ellie sends a message by way of bird to tell Allavara to prepare for a rescue mission, and OH YEAH YOUR WIFE ISN’T ACTUALLY DEAD :DDDD The team show up and avoid guards under cover of night to the base of the tower with Allavara. We discuss how we’re gonna get up there and down safely with Naoise’s wife and child, and eventually Cerna tells us he can spider climb up the tower with a rope! So we do that! And climb up! And get them out! Now this is where we have some things to talk about; we have a timeline that was kind of retconned because the decision the party reached was too impulsive for some of us. I’ll recount the story as we have decided it happened, not as it actually did, because this is revisionist history and you literally can’t fucking stop me. Allavara tells us she has heard strange noises from Fabron’s room down the hall, and has seen all manner of grim things surrounding the Duke. She notices the Wren necklace on Shura and tells us she fears he is a demon worshipper, or perhaps that he may even be communing with something grim right now. Some of the party decide to go with Allavara back to Octin, for her safety; Shura, Rowan, Jawbones and Cerna prepare to kill a cultist. We arrive, and he’s tranced out with occult knowledge and symbols lining the room in peculiar patterns. Out of his armour, with no guards left to protect him, Shura takes the Axe of Gonzo and decapitates Baron Fabron in one fell swoop. We turn the room, take the body and all valuables, and disappear into the night. Fuck that guy. End session. (I will mention for posterity that the way the Axe of Gonzo worked was that Shura could burn mental stats for a bigger crit range and extra weapon die on one crit. Auto crit on a sleeping target, and I rolled a crit anyway, coming to 8d12+2d6+9 because of Zealotry and Half Orc feats etc. This was supposed to be something of a combat encounter but for the second time in this game a named villain was killed in a single hit in their sleep.) We pick back up outside Octin where the group is prepared to split up just in case we have been followed; Naoise and Allavara go back to the Affable Undulate with baby Atticus, Rowan and Shura are headed for the Bloody Cup after a visit to church, Ellie and Cerna head to another bar and Jawbones goes off on her own for her own business.  Naoise spends a night with her wife and kid at the bar, just catching up. Shura and Rowan show up at church and he goes in to check with Belruel, making sure that what they had just done was the right call. He feels a hand on his shoulder and that definitely lightens his mood because yeah, in that situation he knows he would have done it even if it wasn’t the right call. Belruel does not tell him if Fabron is linked to the cult Shura has dealt with in the past, so that’s rough, but no matter! Fabron had a dark longsword in his room, and this lad  loves trophies, so in proper fashion, why not try and see what’s up with it in a church? In his little prayer circle, he tries to attune to the sword but it hurts him to do so, and then something strange happens. The metal creaks and takes on a lighter hue after burning red hot and literally screaming. Shura, and Ya Boi, being dumbasses, do not equate this to any real change, so he does not try and attune again in case it literally kills him. Rowan says her prayers to Winthrop the merry and laughs as Shura’s cursing at a sword across the room. The two of them go to the bar they chose, and a drunken exhausted Shura collapses in bed before he can attune to the sword. Jawbones (Jawbones!) makes herself less conspicuous and heads to a bar. She just listens in on the crowd, eats some stew, but there’s nothing too interesting; news hasn’t spread yet. One of her old friends lived here, so she talks to this lad Welrick, just checking in on an old friend. She asks for Arc, but there’s been no sign of him. In Arc’s room, the window is open and the room is empty, there is nothing interesting beyond a black rose coin. She pockets the coin but falls asleep as she’s waiting for someone to return. It’s from her pocket by the time she wakes up. Now Ellie and Cerna immediately head to a bar; Ellie tries to meditate and eventually he can sleep for a bit but the scars on his chest begin to open. Panicked, Ellie runs for the gates and out into the woods. Mr. Shiny has left him, his powers are fading and he is winded. Ellie lies down in a riverbed, as if embracing death, certain that Fyena, the pagan spring goddess who is all but confirmed to be living inside him has left, or is perhaps wounded? Cerna seems to have a nice night by himself, commenting on his weird fucking roommate. We all meet back up in the morning at the Affable Undulate; Jawbones and Ellie show up first and Ellie’s a bit fucking rocked by the events of last night. The rest show up not too long after, and Shura decides to attune to the sword; there is no psychic damage, so that’s neat! Fabron’s blade, once known as Barbspawn, has been reforged in the light of the church as a gift from Belruel to this boy; the sword is now Brightspawn. Cerna takes The Axe of Gonzo, and the team agrees to go and tell Greysteel she needs to help Naoise/Marcella and her family right now!  We show up and Greysteel is understandably shocked to see Allavara here and requesting hiding, but she agrees to uphold the deal; we’ll be taking Marcella out for drinks later this evening, but she can stay here now. We also have something to tell Greysteel, and we have no idea how to break the news to her; Shura fumbles for words, until Rowan’s flair for the dramatics takes over, she billows her cloak, takes a bow and the decapitated body of Fabron rolls out onto her floor. She is none too pleased with this, although she’s kind of glad we didn’t tell anyone but her. The news can’t leave the room, though, and we’re not getting a pat on the back for it, which sucks. Oh well! But we leave the mansion and the wedding procession is... still happening?? We see carriages, and we see Fabron alongside his daughter? We see Allavara in a wedding dress? We know they’re illusions or body doubles, but still, why are they keeping up appearances? Wild.  The contact is met, and enter @bluethegirl‘s new character! We show up at an apartment; the door is half open and the walls are lined with notes and scraps of paper. Lazing on a couch is a tiefling flipping through a book, with the cultist symbol of Arioch on a necklace. The investigator stands up, introduces himself as Ashe, and quickly notices Shura’s Wren necklace, tearing his own cultist one off with a strong “It’s not what it looks like!”  End session.

[wildpawed-moved]

THREES.

  ❥ TAGGED BY: stolen from @divisus bc she said so   ❥ TAGGING: @deadmenanddemons ( kane ), @murderousbitch, @90smagicalboy, @crackedmxgic, @panamastayed, @blackinkbloodstream, @atlantisking, @anditsxsorrows, @witheriingsouls ( buffy ), @magaprima, @cardinalrot and literally everyone else who wants to 

MUSE: Sebastian Matthews bc all dash games go to him automatically unless specified and i’m just not even slightly subtle about him being my favourite muse on this blog

3 strengths

He has genius level intelligence and is highly analytical. It’s almost a flaw that he can’t just take things for what they are and he has to get into things and figure out how and why they work, which is why he takes to mechanics and chemistry so well. Honestly, big maths equations ( whether it’s chemistry, physics, aerodynamics, anything really ) are just so much fun for him and he loves to get his mind working over drive.

Animal thing aside, he’s extremely observant. He’s often ignored by outside ( not people of the pack and even then those on outside the inner circle tend to brush him to the side ) people, them just seeing him as a domesticated bird of prey ( thanks curse! ) and pretty much ignore him, which leaves him in the background and lets him just observe one’s behaviour, mannerisms and so on. With all this said and done, while he watches he can listen in to conversations and things and just mention things that might have gone unheard or misinterpreted.

While birds aren’t olfactory hunters, you’re not going to be able to do much without him hearing or seeing it. While the pack always bicker about who has the best sense of sight or hearing or smell, their ears and eyes don’t have much on Seb. He’s extremely valuable, though the wolves aren’t super willing to admit it.

3 weaknesses

He trusts no bitch. Like when he was living as a completely as bird in the wilds, if you had a human shape you were completely evil to him. While going full bird could be seen as extreme, he was in an extremely abusive relationship with his father which ended in him finding out that Vincent actually got his wife killed, so Seb’s faith in humanity as an entire entity was completely obliterated. Is he working on fixing that? Not entirely. In the wilds, you know where you stand. Predator or prey and if something wants has intention to kill you, you know about it. Humans can lie and mask their intentions with smiles and kind words and he’s just super cautious about it and pretty much won’t bother trying to make any connections unless B has something established with them. He still watches out for her though.

With his curse cutting himself off completely from the rest of the world except for some super specific circumstances, he really doesn’t put in the effort to reach out to people, really not helped that he’s ‘just a bird’ at face value. And his whole not trusting anyone thing. He’s paranoid with good reason, but he also really does get in his own way about making friends and having other connections with people.

He’s super patient but also impatient. It’s all about context. He’s a bird of prey, so he waits when he hunts. But in his human form ( or through the translations through B ), when it comes to tutoring his children / other kids of the pack and just other people in general, he gets a little short tempered. He’d never lash out, but he becomes easily frustrated. He often forgets that what might be super simple and easy for him can be extremely complicated for others ( read: his idea of a good time could reduce me to tears ).

3 secrets

He sucks at communication, but he’s not as big of an asshole as he presents himself as. He used to get beaten up all the time at school and that whole population treated him like crap, so being on the defensive and being a sarcastic, bitter d-bag is a defense mechanism and the only one he has in his human form. If you can break through his five billion layers of wall, he is a soft bean that’s just been through a lot of struggles in his life.

He thinks about hurting, even killing his dad a lot. His past isn’t something he’s open about ( unless you’re Blaez ) and he’d really rather forget the guy exists ( or even his life pre-curse was ever real because its strengthened him in so many ways tbh ) because he’s got such a better life now, curse aside, but he also believes he’ll never be completely free of Vincent’s chains until the bastard ceases to exist. When he has bad mental days / nights, he has his moments where he expects the guy to randomly appear to do what he always used to do and a part of Seb wishes he did so he can take the fucker down.

Because I can’t think of anything super specific for this last point I could pretty much say him as a person because like, he’s something of an enigma as a whole. Doesn’t say much, when he does speak he speaks in a way that leaves heaps up to the imagination, always has something of a super harsh or vague expression because bird’s don’t emote. He’s just a big ol’ mystery if you don’t have the patience to let him trust you so you can actually get to know him.

3 fears

Ya boy has a big fear of abandonment / being forgotten! And he also fears being forgotten and also being in an abusive relationship ( platonically speaking, as he knows B wouldn’t hurt a fly ). He can / can’t recognise the signs ( it really depends on how long he’s spent around the other person ) and while he feels he’s mostly safe, there’s always that thought in the back of his mind that things can and will turn to shit when he least expects it.

He has a very rightful fear of owls. Like those birds move perfectly silently in the night and could easily take a hawk down while his eyes aren’t very useful and the lack of warm air makes flight more of a chore. If he sleeps in his territory as a bird, he’ll sleep on a branch as close to the trunk as possible and won’t move until sunrise. He feels people underestimate just how hard it is to survive his life but that really is a whole other post for another time.

He fears failure a lot to, whether it’s in his chosen fields of study or just in life generally. He was told he couldn’t do a lot of things as a teenager and while his curse does put a stopper in his tracks occasionally, he is completely driven to spit in the face of his father and not reaching his own goals makes him super frustrated.

3 goals

Not to quote that Cab song or anything, but he wants to live, not just survive. Bird life is hard and while he can juggle it with normal life ( depending on how dysphoric he is at the time ), he really does want to live his best life, whatever that may be.

He genuinely ( though also spitefully ) wants to do every single thing in the world, however big or small, that his father told him he never could or would.

The bird thing makes it hard as hell, but he does want to have a scientific breakthrough or some big achievement that he can have his name on and be recognised for it. He can’t really have a 9-5 career in the industry, but that’s his tiny little goal that would fulfil him the most.

[scxrsgxrd]

The Vendetta// Bill Skarsgård

SUMMARY: two families locked in a vendetta, craving the destruction of each clan. However, a certain opposing family member captures the attention of Bill Skarsgård, the man behind the vendetta.

WARNINGS: 18+ mature language, sex, choking, gangster Bill being filthy in general.

Bill sat at his desk, running a rather frustrated hand through his hair as his gaze fixed on the set of photos he had on his desk in front of him. Photos of the Gold family. His eyes fixed on one man in particular: Mr Thomas Gold, the patriarch of the family he had intended to assassinate in order to avenge the death of his father, the man Thomas Gold had killed in cold blood. A slight smirk came about his lips as he stubbed his cigarette out on the photo, watching intently as it began to burn through Thomas’ face.

“Soon,” he muttered to himself, spitting on the remains of the now tattered photo. “Soon you’ll get what you fucking deserve.”

He gestured a ‘come hither’ motion with his index finger as he saw two of his brothers at the door of his office, both exchanging uneasy glances as they reluctantly made their way in. His attention was first turned to Alex, the oldest of the Skarsgård clan.

“You gonna tell me why our fucking brother hasn’t come back yet?” If there was one thing about Bill that terrified even his oldest brother, it was the tone in which his was set at whenever he was displeased.

“Look Bill, I think we all know sending Valter to kill Henry Gold wasn’t the best idea.” An unintentional gulp came from Alex as he watched bill begin to slowly stand up from behind his desk.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” He growled as he made his way towards his oldest brother, grabbing hold of the knot at the top of his tie, their faces almost touching as Alex could feel the harsh breaths bill was excluding.

As much as Alex wished he could meet the burning gaze of his brother, his eyes were fixed to the laminate flooring beneath them, partly so he could ignore the belittling lecture he was receiving from Bill. However, the further humiliation of being intimidated by his younger brother set in when Bill then let go of his collar, looking now at both him and Gustaf.

“If either of you fuckers ever dare to question my orders again, I’ll have you against that wall and shot faster than you can say Valter’s name. Am I clear?” He spat, leaning his face forwards to his brothers in order to further demean them.

All they could do was nod and stride away when bill gestured for them to leave his office, sitting back at his chair to further study the Gold family. His cold gaze was now set on the young Ms Gold, the only daughter of Thomas. Very easy on the eye was Ms Gold, as he began to think of what he would do to her before he killed her, a girl of her looks would be useful for him while he was away from home.

His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head when another knock sounded on the oak door of his office, as he rather irately growled for permission for whoever it was to enter his office, his eyes still fixed on the papers scattered across his desk.

“Bill,” he instinctively grabbed his pistol as he heard Alex’s voice, not yet ready to deal with another encounter with his less competent brother. However, when he lifted his head up ever so slightly to look at Alex he saw a petite, feminine figure slouched next to him with a dirty sack positioned over her head.

“You come into my fucking office when I’m trying to concentrate on business to bring me some dirty, delinquent whore?” Bill cocked his pistol, a small chuckle leaving his throat as he noticed the girl next to Alex flinch slightly.

“No brother, I brought you the prized fucking possession of the Gold family.” Alex almost spat, trying to keep his composure due to his growing annoyance over his arrogant kin. He then removed the sack in a single tug, exposing the rather agitated and disheveled face of Ms Gold.

“You can go now.” Bill didn’t want to praise his brother, for it pained him to acknowledge that his brother’s find was far more promising than anything he had come across so far. Alex simply cussed under his breath and exited his brother’s office, making sure to slam the door shut.

“Well well well,” Bill started with a smirk, lighting another cigarette and taking a large drag. “It’s nice to finally become aquatinted with you, pretty girl.”

“Fuck you.” She simply stated, her disobedience immediately infuriating him as she wasn’t appreciating the man she was talking to. The man who could end her life with the simple squeeze of a trigger.

He rose from his desk, his long legs removing the distance between them with only a few strides as he grabbed onto her cheeks, the tips of his fingers turning white due to the harsh grip he now had on her. “You don’t speak to me like that, little girl. I can see the defiance in your eyes but let me tell you, that shit is useless now you’re here with me. You will not leave this room until I deem it appropriate, am I understood?” He waited until she gave him a meek nod before he released her face, giving a harsh push that almost knocked her off balance.

“You brought me here to kill me, correct? So why am I still breathing?” Her questioning of his intentions intrigued him, as he had not yet decided what he wanted to do with her, the possibilities of using her for his own pleasure were endless. He envisioned her bent over his desk, stark naked facing the large window in front of them as he fucked her from behind, or perhaps he’d have her against the wall, screaming out his name so everyone in the building knew the control he possessed over her.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re far too valuable for me to just end before I’ve had my fun.” He took another drag of his cigarette as he watched her shuffle slightly in front of him, the confidence she previously radiated had now disappeared, as she knew of Bill’s reputation when it came to girls. As much as she had a deep, passionate hate for him, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of arousal as she watched him stump out his cigarette and return his gaze to her.

“Are you going to be a good girl and do as I instruct?” He questioned, his eyes almost turning a shade darker as they filled with a newfound lust for the girl in front of him. A smirk tugged on the corners of his mouth as she nodded, her hands shaking slightly with anticipation for his next order.

“Remove that dress of yours, it’s terribly difficult to see your body with that thing hanging on you.” His eyes raked up and down her newly exposed skin as she removed her dress, not daring to try and cover herself as she certainly wasn’t willing to deal with the consequences of doing so.

Bill’s eyes immediately fixed on the damp patch on her underwear, as he stuck his foot between her legs and spread them apart harshly to give himself a better view of her arousal. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” She could only not at his rather intense question, but her response didn’t satisfy him in the slightest as he once again grabbed her face in a swift motion.

“When I ask you a question I expect a worded response.” He leaned close to her face as his grip tightened, which only seemed to make her pussy ache more for him.

“Y-yes Bill, I’m enjoying it.” She could barely even string together her sentences as he let go of her face, moving his fingers under her chin to push it up so she was looking directly at him.

“Now, why don’t you remove your underwear so I’m able to see that pretty little cunt of yours.” His words sent a shiver down her spine, as she reached behind her back, unclipping her bra and tossing it to the side of her, the cold air immediately causing her nipples to harden, much to Bill’s pleasure as she noticed a slight bulge appearing in his trousers. She then went on to slide her now soaked underwear down her legs, and was about to throw it onto her pile of clothes before bill grabbed them off her, stuffing them into his back pocket as he licked his lips at the sight of her now naked body.

“Open your mouth.” He instructed, pushing his index and middle finger into her mouth as she complied, pushing them to the back of her throat causing her to choke slightly. He then removed his fingers and began to circle one of her nipples, the lubrication from his fingers causing a new wave of pleasure to hit her and eliciting a gasp from her, which only seemed to cause Bill’s smirk of satisfaction to grow.

“You’re going to stand there like a good girl and not move a muscle, take what I give you.” She didn’t have chance to reply as she felt his long fingers make their way down her stomach, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she felt his hand cup her pussy.

“Look at who’s pleasuring you.” He commanded, running his tongue up the side of her neck causing her eyes to open immediately and set onto his face.

“You’re so fucking wet already and I’ve barely even touched you.” He almost laughed as he finished his sentence, removing his hand from her and marvelled at his now glistening fingers coated in her arousal. As much as she wanted to deny how good he was making her feel simply by just talking to her, she couldn’t. Every fibre of her being knew that what she was doing was wrong, but who was she to deny human nature?

She fought to close her eyes as she felt two of his long digits trailing up the inside of her thigh, collecting her wetness as they made their way to where she knew she needed them. A gasp instinctively left her mouth as she felt him prod at her entrance, only letting the tip of his fingers enter her. “If you want my fingers, you’re going to have to beg.” She wanted to scream at his instructions, as all she desired was to feel any part of him inside her, fucking her into oblivion.

“Please, Bill. Just let me have something, I’ve obeyed you so far and you know how desperate I am for you to touch me. I want to feel you in me-“ her sentence was cut off by his two fingers plunging into her, instantly curling and hitting the spot that made her squirm.

“Sorry sweetheart, I got sick of your incessant whining. I asked for you to beg me, that was pathetic and you’re going to pay for it.” She almost shivered at his disdainful words, as she knew having the pleasure of him finger fucking her wouldn’t last for much longer. She let out an elongated moan as his thumb connected with her clit, immediately grabbing onto his shoulders for support as she revelled in the feeling of his fingers brushing against her walls, and his thumb rubbing sharp circles on her sensitive bundle of nerves.

It took every inch of her self control to not aggressively slap him when she felt him pull his fingers out of her and brush her hand off his shoulder. She observed as he opened his mouth and sucked on his soaked fingers, letting out an almost muffled groan of approval as his eyes shut for a few seconds.

“I must say Ms Gold, you taste divine. Such a shame you can’t just obey my orders like the good little girl I thought you were. Now, if you’re going to behave like a bad girl, I sure as hell will fuck you like one.” And with that, he undid his belt and pushes his trousers to the ground, and that was the point where she could see how much his cock was now strained against his boxers, which only made her desire him even more. Bill didn’t bother to unbutton his shirt, not when there was a beautifully soaked girl in front of him, instead he simply pulled it open as buttons scattered on the floor around him, and he tossed it to the side.

“Bend over my desk, facing the window.” He took great pleasure in knowing that whoever was to walk through the gardens would see him fucking her senseless, fucking the girl whom nobody else in the household would ever have the satisfaction of doing the same to. He removed his boxers and began stroking his fully erect cock, groaning audibly as her watched her comply with his instructions.

He took hold of her waist and guided himself into her painfully slow to insure she could feel every inch of him, every inch that was aching to fuck her. His hand instinctively took hold of her hair, giving it a harsh tug so her back was firmly against his chest as he began to slowly move in and out of her, causing her to cry out as a plea for him to speed up his actions.

“Please Bill, I need you to fuck me and I need you to make it hurt.” She managed to whimper, not being able to take any more of his painful teasing. He then let go of her hair and pushed her back down onto his desk, grabbing onto her hips roughly as he began to relentlessly slam into her, her cries of pleasure surely being heard by the rest of his brothers. He then raised one of his hands and brought it down to her ass, giving a sharp slap to it which left a delightful red hand shaped mark in its wake, causing her to let out a strangled yelp.

“You like this huh? You like feeling my cock deep inside you?” She was at a loss for words due to to his punishing thrusts, so all she could do was nod and wait for his retort, as she knew her simple action wouldn’t fulfil his question. She then felt his hand wrap around her throat, his fingers applying a slight amount of pressure which only pleasured her more, as she craved the intensity of his animalistic nature.

“I asked you a fucking question so I expect a fucking answer.” He growled, his grip on her throat tightening as she felt his thrusts only get stronger, her walls beginning to tighten around his cock as she felt warmth begin to build up in the pit of her stomach.

“Y-yes Bill.” She cried out, partly in answer to his question and partly in praise for how he was making her feel, as each thrust he gave her managed to hit a different spot of pleasure inside her. His own moans then began to increase in volume as he felt her clenching around him, as he knew neither of them would last much longer.

“Cum for me, pretty girl. All over my cock.” He slapped her ass again as he gave another hard thrust, moving his hand between her thighs and sharply rubbing her clit in repetitive circles. His movements along with his words were enough to push her over the edge, her cries consisting of a mixture of profanities and his name as her orgasm took over her whole body. She felt her toes curl and her eyes screw shut as her legs went numb with the overwhelming sensation of ecstasy she was experiencing. Only a few seconds later she felt his thrusts become more sloppy and his grip on her hips tighten, his nails leaving crest shaped marks on her skin as he released inside her, letting out a loud groan as he began to recover from his high.

He then removed himself from her, walking over to her pile of clothes and throwing them at her as though to give her the silent instruction to redress herself as he lit another cigarette, a glint of humour appearing in his eyes as he watched her struggle to keep her balance as she stepped into her dress. Still naked, his sat back at his desk idly shuffling through the paperwork that was now crumped and scattered along his desk, as she noticed his cock was still covered in the remains of her desire.

“Tell your father that I’ll consider ending this vendetta if I get to fuck his darling daughter more often.” Bill smirked at her disgust as she began to make her way to his door, although there was part of her that knew that wouldn’t be the last time she was situated in his office.

[ltleflrt]

Do you have any tips on how you write such long series so well without feeling like your dragging it out? I would love to write a 100k+ fic one day but I just don’t know how to go about anything that big, and how long does it take you to write that much on average? Thank you

This is actually a really hard question for me to answer, because I rarely think my stories are going to be long when I start them.  I’m getting a better handle on it as it keeps happening, but I still think “oh this story will be like 25k” when I start it, which is an improvement since the very first 100k+ fic I ever wrote was for a mini bang writing challenge with a word count minimum of 8k, and I thought I wouldn’t be able to reach that.  Ha. Hahahaaaaa….

I’ll try to answer it, but I am going to tag @jupiterjames to chime in because she knows my process better than I do, and I’ve also infected her with my longficitis.  She may have insights that I’m missing because I’m too close to the source lol

I’m actually quite mystified by people who can constantly write short fics, because that doesn’t come naturally to me at all.  I've always been a wordy fucker, but over time my scenes have gotten longer.  That’s something that just came with practice and becoming more comfortable with my own writing style.

For content: I have an overabundance of ideas, like, all the time.  You’ve probably seen that I often give some away because my cup overflows.  I keep huge bullet pointed lists of vague ideas and tropes that I want to write about.  I often end up taking 3-5 of those bullet points and smooshing them together into a single story.  Satin and Sawdust was like 6 bullet points on my list, and I had to figure out how to make them all connect.  That was half the fun of writing it!  And I’ve been eye-balling that meme going around where followers can give me 2 AUs to squish together, because THAT IS MY JAM.

That’s how I end up with Big Stories from small beginnings, but as for how I manage to not make them drag out?  I don’t have a good answer for that, because I don’t know.  To be honest, I often freak out during the writing process because I think I’m moving too fast between plot points.  It’s really common for me to pop into JJ’s messages with “is it too soon for this thing to happen???” and she always tells me no, but I usually end up putting more stuff in to spread it out anyway.  On the flip side, my overabundance of ideas often causes me problems too, and I drop a lot of stuff that probably would make it drag.  I cry to JJ about those too.  Honestly, I cry to her a lot.

I’m not afraid to ask if I’m adding too little or too much, and I think that’s important.  I can figure that stuff out by myself, but it takes much longer and more angsting is involved.  Writing can be done in a support vacuum, but I don’t work that way.  I mostly work with one person at a time, but there are a ton of writing groups out there that focus on helping each other improve, and they’re a super valuable resource if you ever feel like you need someone to check your pacing.  Outside perspective of pacing will always be different than your own.

Side note: writing buddies are The Best, and if you can find one, treat them as the blessing that they are.  Taking functional criticism is difficult, but a trusted writing buddy will either soften the blow, or tell you to suck it up, and they’ll know you well enough to tailor their approach!    

I don’t know if this helps, like, at all, but it’s as close as I can come to describing the absolute mess that is my creation process.

As for how long it takes me to write, if I’m not being lazy, it takes me 3-4 months to write about 110k on average.  I type very fast, and it generally only takes me a few hours to write a 5k chapter, but I only write a few days every week.  I can write much faster, because I’ve won NaNoWriMo before and it didn’t even seem that hard to do.  The 1667 words a day goal is easy for me to knock out in 90 minutes a day.  I like to take 2-4 days off between chapters tho, which is why I don’t pump out 50k every month lol

I like setting timers for myself, because when there’s a count down I am more likely to keep my fingers moving and the words going.  If I don’t have a time limit, then I will waffle over sentence structure and word choice.  If you can prevent yourself from self editing too much (it won’t stop altogether, that’s impossible), you can actually crank out quite a bit.

(I say “you” but I mean me.  If this works for you too, then awesome :D )

My final piece of advice though, is Don’t Think About The Word Count.  Just focus on writing the scene.  Length is less important than substance, and if you never write a 100k fic that doesn’t mean you’re not a talented writer.  You just have a different writing style than me over here with my huge-ass beast fics :)

[papatonyinsandiego]

Non-Verbal Communication, Part Two:  Distancing Mechanisms and External Validation

Part One Can Be Found Here...

Pretty Privilege

In the gay Leather/Kink/Fetish community, just as in any other culture or subculture, there are the “👍 WINNERS! 👍” and the ….losers…  

Are we all sick of that?  I sure am.  My experience is that 100% of gay kinky men are done with being judged on externals that we have no control over.

It’s a primate-ape fact of life that desirable features make us more fuckworthy.  They can also be a trap.  I want to talk about it from the other side.  Pretty Privilege DOES exist in our Tribe.  I have made use of it myself.  

Back when I was young, virile and FINALLY getting a lot of approval from men, I attended a lot of five-star, crowded “elite” parties, both clothed and naked.  It felt GREAT to be “New Meat” and highly-desirable.  

If the gloriously beautiful men around me were bitchy and insecure, then I guessed I would try that on for a while.  I got way too good at it.  I am ashamed of my behavior back then.  A lot of the virtuous acts that I have performed since those days are my atonement for how I fell into bad behaviors for a while.

After a while, though, I noticed something odd.  The vast majority of men in my life had no interest in who was inside the pretty exterior.  I realized that I was just a mobile dildo to that crowd.  

In fact, I got picked-on if I stepped out of bounds in some way.  It was like trying to balance on a tightrope of other peoples’ expectations.  Fall off, and you would never get back on.  It was conditional approval.

The clincher for me occurred after a big fuck-party, when I showed up at Sunday brunch in a Hawaiian shirt, flip-flops and shorts.  My brunch companions refused to eat with me, unless I changed back into full black leather.  That was the last time that I associated with them, and with that subculture.  I happily stepped into a much, much slower lane.

At age 25, I gave up using my privilege at others’ disadvantage.  I chose a different path of seeking real and useful wisdom.

Assertions And Declarations

I assert that I am more than what you can see.  

There are depths to me that are worth knowing.  

I am an amalgam of many flavors, good and bad.

I am not just a single, obvious musical note.  I am a symphony.  

I assert the same about YOU.  There is majesty, worth, and a valuable contribution to the world inside all of us.  I take that attitude with me wherever I go, treating everyone as my favorite brother or sister.  I am rarely disappointed.

External Validation

Being given approval of any kind is delightful, so we work hard to get more of it.  We can spend thousands of hours every year, pumping up bigger and bigger muscles.  We can have our teeth straightened and whitened, along with hair-removal and spray-tanning, $3,000 leather outfits, and darkening that gray beard.

We may have experiences of all of those attributes and many more.  They can bring on flattering and pleasurable reactions, and allow us to “win” on some level.

No matter what, sooner or later, the crash arrives.  Age, sudden disasters, infirmity and gravity work against our following the same path forever.  That’s when we will be needing the emotional growth that we may have allowed to dwindle while we were otherwise occupied.

To this day, I still go to the gym several times a week, but I ALSO work on my social skills, and provide value to my circle of true friends.  My biggest struggle is with humility.  I’m still trying to figure that one out, and I am open to suggestions.

Distancing Mechanisms

The other side of that same coin has to do with keeping others at arm’s length.  Let’s start with WHY we would want to protect ourselves from others.

We are all born perfect, trusting and uninhibited.  We learn to be otherwise, when we receive wounds along the way:  

• “NO, STUPID!  The OTHER way!”  “People think that I’m stupid?”

• “Don’t talk to me, ugly!  Take those big ears somewhere else!”  “What’s wrong with my ears?”

• I’ll give you something to cry about!”  “It’s bad for me to cry?”

These wounds cause us to make decisions that we hang on to, long after they have become obsolete.  We may use ever-growing musculature to keep others at a distance. Or five layers of leather. Or whatever else helps us to keep possibly stressful interactions at arms’ length.

Those same predicaments can also create new, pleasurable possibilities, but we have to be OPEN to that idea in the first place.  

Cynicism protects our tender hearts, but it can also prevent us from noticing when the Real Breakthrough Opportunity shows up.

One decision that I still struggle with can be expressed as “I’m not going to let you reject me.  I reject you FIRST!”  That’s on a very deep, early level, but I am not being driven by it so much any more, now that I consciously recognize it.  Eventually.  I no longer feel that my foot is nailed to the floor, while I go around and around the same problem, doomed to repeat it.  Therapy helped.

I now laugh about my flaws as a personal foible.  At that point, I clean up my mess:  “Oh, there I go again.  Sorry.  I am glad that I caught myself.  My anger does not belong to you.  I’m not doing that any more.  Let’s start over.”

Attitude Queens with a Capital “A”

So when you see that gorgeous man who seems to have everydamnthing going for him, moving through the crowd with a fixed look on his face that says “Don’t bother me,” spare him some loving sympathy.  He is just as damaged as you are, despite external appearances.  He’s just expressing it in his own way.

He’s lonely too.  He is misunderstood.  He struggles with finding unconditional love and deep friendship, just like anyone.

If I see somebody who is broadcasting on that channel, I get right past his defenses, 99% of the time.  I do it by treating him as a good-hearted man, with value as a possible friend.  Like any human being, he is starved for honest respect and affection.

Our Brains React Differently With Objects of Desire

Recent MRI-scan tests have shown that our mental processes change radically when we meet a politician, a celebrity, or a porn actor.  We put them on a mental pedestal.  Star-Fuckers, World’s Biggest Fans and Celebrity Stalkers can be a real chore for someone who just wants to walk down the street unmolested.

Think of the porn actor who is making some extra money as a go-go dancer on an elevated box at a big dance-party.  He has drunks pawing at him like he was a piece of meat.  They are making his privates very public.  No matter how much he can rationalize this (”It’s all part part of the J-O-B”), he can also get pretty tired of it.  Feigning enthusiasm can be a tedious chore.

That's why I always do one, specific behavior with every go-go dancer:  I bring him some ca$h to stuff into his shorts, but I only do it in the area between his hip and his dick.  I am not going for the gold.  I smile in an honest, happy way, look him in the eye, and tap my cheek with two fingers.  He smooches me on the cheek, and throws his arms around me with honest pleasure.  I take that chance to express some honest compliments about his dancing, and then we disengage affectionately.

I gave him a Warm Fuzzy - A moment of sweet, honest human interaction.  As a result, I am loved and respected by that man, forever afterward.  I looked for the good in him.

The Calendar-Signing Party

I attended an event that turned out to be well-stocked with extremely handsome, muscular men.  They were in town to promote a charity calendar, and I was politely interested in knowing more.

After about an hour, a man came up to me.  He was the husband of the calendar’s creator, and he was curious to know more about me.  He had watched me speak to every one of the calendar models, and had noticed that they all dropped their shields around me in seconds, and were at their ease.  They didn't feel the need to be “on” with me. They all hugged me, as their own idea.  I almost never ask for hugs.  I prefer to earn them.

I get a lot of hugs.

The Bottom Line

The point that I am belaboring is that we can rise above our easy and obvious biases.  We can choose to let go of physical external appearance as a point of reference.  Those are just what we can see.  If we open up our own hearts to the possibility that somebody is a good man, then he may pleasantly surprise us.

I am VERY rarely disappointed.

[monotype-on-phantom]

i didnt want to say this before but man.. Danny kind of.. sucks, at least in the heart of canon. i get that he's young and learns "Those Valuable Lessons" and but people dont acknowledge most of this douchebag's shitty antics cause he's a cute boy or whatever. although Danny has a very excellent premise for a character, he is sincere sometimes, but overall its not executed well. he falls into too many awful high school tropes

i guess im glad people are making use of his character premise by reading too closely than the show intended, or by making content of their own interpretations. but we cant ignore that he is quite a goddamned piece of hell shit who i fucking hate in the real show sometimes. i feel there’s just too much emphasis on a character and show that wasn’t well crafted and well managed to begin with. its kinda sad when all the hate is somehow directed towards other characters like Sam.

it feels like most people are praising him and the overall show for what they imagine it to be instead of what it actually is. srsly this awful goddamned fuckboy sells stuff garage lab items he aint supposed to just to buy some fucking clothes??? uses ghost powers to spy girls in their locker room?? he fuckin destroys ghost writer’s writing and then doesnt feel sorry about it just cause it’s christmas-related and he’s so pissy about it.

so.. yeah. i dont get why people think he’s literal kid Jesus and always wants to protect this little fucker. he puts himself in alot of mess. the “D” on his suit stands for “dick”, bc that’s what he is.  i want to beat him up sometimes

Okay.

Normally, I delete all character hate on sight, because the point of my blog is to focus on the show’s strengths and how the weaknesses could’ve been done better. I get critical sometimes, but I like focusing on a characters’ strengths rather than their poor writing and garbage like that.

This was so long, detailed, and harsh that it’s really hard to ignore. Maybe I should. Stick to my guns and not let some anonymous rant change how I work. You came to me, though, so if you want to debate this, then alright. I’ll bite.

First off, who in the fandom is portraying Danny as a kid Jesus? Maybe it’s just the circles I’m familiar with, but one of the most reblogged posts that pops up in my notifications is one with a ton of additions arguing why Danny totally deserves to suffer. The majority of the fandom loves tormenting this kid. Even those that do say he needs to be protected never claim he has no flaws. Far from it. They just acknowledge he has it hard for a kid and he deserves a break sometimes.

Second, have you ever…met a 14 year old? As someone who spent most of his career life working with kids and who is the oldest of 5 (with one brother who’s turning 14 this November), lemme tell you that the main trio are saints for their age.

People talk about the terrible twos, but 14 year olds are so much worse. I’m not slamming them, because it makes sense. They’re in a tough transition period between childhood and adulthood. Adults tell them to act more mature, but refuse to acknowledge their voices in serious situations. Middle school and high school are cutthroat places, and one mistake can ruin the entirety of the four-six years you spend there. They’re pressured to get good grades or they’ll fail, they have to be part of the cool crowd or they’ll fail, and people are more likely to blame them for whatever goes wrong in their lives than anything that goes on around them.

Doesn’t change the fact that they can be little demons sometimes. With all the hormones and drama, young teenagers can be really emotional and make problems bigger than they seem. They can be harsh and judgmental, because that’s the environment they’re being exposed to. They need guidance, but they don’t want it. They argue with adults and to some, it seems like they want to make their own lives miserable. They can be tough to work with unless you’re willing to take them as seriously as they take themselves, and most people don’t want to bother.

There are shitty things Danny does in canon, but that’s true for literally every fourteen year old. And heck, are you telling me you didn’t do some ridiculously stupid stuff at that age? I actually stole money from my folks to buy something I wanted. My group of friends frequently set stuff on fire in their backyards. And fuck, nobody can prove Danny was spying on girls in the locker room. While I think the scene is shit and refuse to accept it as canon, all we see is Danny coming out of the locker room. He could’ve been just looking to see what it was like in there. Nothing says there were actually girls in there. But I’m so sick of talking about that shit scene, so I’m gonna leave it at that.

Danny has flaws. He can be selfish and petty and inconsiderate. But really? You wanna beat him up for that?

Are you forgetting that he canonically already does get beaten up every single episode? Whether it’s by ghosts, bullies, his own goddam parents, or whatever, getting beat up is something he’s familiar with.

The reason some fans cut him some slack is because, hey, yeah. He is a kid, and you know what? He’s entitled to be a dick sometimes. He loses sleep every night, almost dies on a daily basis, has his dreams ripped away from him often, and is picked on at school. Despite all of that, he still fights ghosts to keep his town safe, and he’s under no obligation to do that. He saves lives, even when people hate him for it. He puts himself in danger, even for those who are cruel to him. He tries to use his powers for the right reason more often than not, and he’ll take the high road against his bully because he feels like he shouldn’t stoop to his level.

We acknowledge that canon can be shit. We acknowledge that sometimes, Danny’s writing makes him out to be a dick. At the “heart of canon,” though, as you so eloquently put it, he’s the kid who risked his life for a little girl he barely knew that nobody else would miss. He’s the one who saves the lives of his own bully, the teacher who used to be so hard on him, and the parents he fully believes would cut him open if they knew what he was. He’s the one who could so easily be Vlad, but instead he tries his best to be a hero.

You’re under no obligation to like him, and you don’t have to ignore the shitty parts of canon like some of us do. I do it just because I enjoy thinking about what the show could’ve been, not what it was. You don’t have to do that, though.

But really, are you going to march into your nearest high school and beat the shit out of the first kid you see messing up? Seriously? You honestly think that the mistakes Danny makes outweigh the good he’s constantly trying to do enough that he deserves that? Even when he already gets beat up in every single episode already?

Well, fine. That’s your pessimistic opinion. It’s not fact, though. How many cartoons do you watch? You gonna beat up Timmy Turner and Jimmy Neutron, too? They can be right assholes. What about Jake Long? He’s a shallow, obnoxious, irresponsible kid a lot of the time. Sure, he’s just 13, but why should we show mercy to kids who mess up? Serena/Usagi from Sailor Moon? Yeah, let’s ignore all the people defending her and just focus on the fact that the show makes her a dumb kid who doesn’t have enough backbone to immediately become the savior of the galaxy. Come to think of it, where’s your rant about Dash Baxter? Or is he not popular enough for you to rag on?

Perfect characters aren’t the ones who are the most upstanding. They’re the ones who are realistic and flawed. So Danny sells his parents stuff. So he sneaked into the girls’ locker room. So he took out his anger on an innocent person.

I’m not saying any of those things weren’t wrong, what I’m saying is that kids make fucking mistakes. And sometimes, they’re huge ones. Sometimes, kids get curious and break into a house. Sometimes they get hungry at the store and shoplift. Sometimes they lie and cheat and make fun of each other. Sometimes they can be perverted little leaches.

So fucking what? We’ve all been there. We all need to learn and grow.

And seriously, if you’re going to be one of those people who gives Sam a break, don’t turn around and start criticizing Danny for the same shitty writing he sometimes gets. That hypocrisy is exactly why I so adamantly defend Sam.

I don’t know what you wanted to accomplish with these asks. Maybe you just wanted to vent. Maybe you were looking to stir up drama. Maybe you don’t know what you wanted and you just sent these asks randomly without any real reason.

Regardless of what you think, I’m still gonna enjoy my fucking fictional character, even if I don’t always agree with how he’s written. I relate to him, his struggles, and even his mistakes. You have fun ripping on characters people like because you don’t think they should be allowed to make mistakes, but let the rest of us have our fun, too. You’re not helping anyone with this, so maybe just fuck off, m’kay?

Being stupidly nice is kind of my thing, but I’m tired of putting up with this self righteous crap. Let characters fuck up. Let fans rewrite things they don’t like. Let people enjoy their fucking cartoon, because they aren’t hurting anyone. I’ve yet to find a single phan who considers the DP cartoon to be completely canon anyway. They enjoy it for the fan content or the few really spot on episodes. We’re already aware that there’s shitty stuff in there, and we don’t need you to tell us.

If I ever get any asks like this that rip on characters for stupid, petty reasons again, I’m deleting them on sight. That was my initial plan anyway, but I really needed to say my piece here.

Tumblr, maybe stop being such judgmental pieces of fucking shit, okay? You’ll accomplish nothing good by being so harsh toward anything that doesn’t fit your standard of “perfect.”

[rootbeergoddess]

Well-Read

You love to read. It’s your favorite thing in the whole world. Yondu hates to read but his favorite thing in the world is you. Thanks @socktrollqueen for looking over this for me. Like this story? Reblog it or leave a tip!

“Kraglin, I’ve gots a question for ya.”

“Sir?’

“How come I can git just about any woman in mah bed except for Y/N?”

“It’s simple Cap. She’s well-read.”

Yondu sighed as he leaned against the wall. As always, you were completely oblivious to the Captain’s gaze. As usual, after a successful mission, you would go the planet that held your favorite store. It was a special bookstore that specialized in books from Terra. Normally, you came here alone. The other Ravagers weren’t big on reading. In fact, you were pretty sure some of them couldn’t read at all. But that was okay. More books for you.

And lying before you was your favorite series. Hardcover, special edition complete with illustrations was the Time Quintet.

“I can’t believe they have it,” You whispered. “Madeleine L’Engle’s famous Time Quintet! I’ve been waiting for them to get this and it’s finally here!”

Yondu pushed off from the wall. He stood behind you, looking over your shoulder. He stole a glance at you. Again, you were too busy focusing on the books to notice. God, you were cute. The way you lit up when talking about books always made him smile. Honestly, he could listen to talk about Henry Pratter or whatever his name is for hours. You were probably the smartest person on his ship too. As the Ravager’s navigator, you knew the name of almost every single star, could chart courses to any planet and if someone had a problem, they came to you.

When it came to romance, you were dumber than a bag of rocks.

“Can I help you folks with anything?”

The owner of the store, a tall, rugged Xandarian with golden glasses. Upon seeing him, you blushed slightly and put on your best smile. Yondu noticed this change and instantly, his good mood turned sour. Glaring at the owner, he stood up straighter. What was so great about this guy? For months, he had been trying to get your attention yet here you were, blushing over some goofball with glasses.

“Hello again Xavix,” You waved to him.

“Oh, my beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Y/N!” The man took your hand. “How I have missed you.”

If looks could kill, Yondu would have murdered Xavix. He cracked his knuckles, trying his hardest not to whistle. Just one whistle would all it take. A quick whistle and an arrow would go through the book keeper’s head. Xavix grinned at you as he kissed your hand. Yondu dug his fingers into his palms.

“Oh please,” You were blushing. “I was here last week.”

“It felt like an eternity.” He sighed wistfully.

“Oh please Xavix!” You giggled before clearing your throat. “I was hoping to buy the Time Quintet please.”

“Ah, a woman after my own heart,” He said. “Such a fantastic series.”

“I don’t see what’s so great about quiche that can travel through time,” Yondu muttered. “Sounds dumb ta me.”

“Um---captain, it’s quintet. A quintet is a group of five people playing music or singing together.”

“Oh and brilliant too,” Xavix cooed. “Oh Y/N can’t I steal you away and keep you here with me? I would love to have someone to talk with for hours. You are from Terra right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I bet you have some valuable insight concerning the author and her works,” He continued. “Honestly, I find you Terrans fascinating.”

“Whelp, as delightful as this conversation is,” Yondu butted in suddenly. “We gots to be movin’ along. How much fer them books?”

“Twenty-seven units.”

“Kraglin, pay the fucker and let’s vamoose.”

Yondu picked up the books as Kraglin went to pay the bookstore owner. You were a bit shocked and very confused. Why did Yondu do that for you? Well, you weren’t going to question it because now you have your books! Squealing with glee, you hugged Yondu. For a second he tensed up but you were so happy you couldn’t help yourself.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said. “I finally have my all time favorite books!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Yondu tried to wave you off. “Just got tired of youse blabberin’ with that jackass.”

“I’m just so happy!” You said with a sigh. “You have no idea how much I love this series! It’s utterly wonderful!”

Yondu paused for a second before asking, “What’s so great about books anyways?”

“What do you mean?”

“Yer always going off about how fantastic books are. I don’t get it!” Yondu said. “Why ain’tchu you like the rest of us Ravagers? Ain’t you interested in people?”

“Well---books are kinder than people are. People are cruel and judgemental,” You answered. “Books can’t judge you.”

Damn. He wasn’t expecting an honest answer. An awkward silence settled between you two.

“Damint,” Yondu sighed. “Look, I---I guess I was jealous alright?”

“Jealous? Of who?”

“That smug fucker at the store! Damn it woman, I know I ain’t the smartest fella around but I’ll talk books with ya!”

“You--want too?” You were even more confused.

“Yeah! Talk ta me, not him! I get it, he’s smart like you are but-- I can at least fake it. I’ve been moonin’ over you for months and you haven’t noticed but this Xaxa butters ya up and you get all giddy.”

This was a lot to take in but it was starting to make sense. Yondu was jealous and all of this had been triggered by Xavix flirting with you. This was all really unexpected. You didn't seem like Yondu’s type. While you were quiet, reserved and studious, Yondu was loud, brash and headstrong. With that being said, you didn’t dislike the captain. While he considered showing affection not the Ravager way, he was a kind person. Plus, he was smart in his own way.

“Cap, are you saying that you like me? Like more than a friend?”

“Yeah,” Yondu sighed. “How come you haven’t noticed til’ now?”

“Cap, when it comes to romance, I don’t have much of a romantic life,” You admitted. “Like I’ve said, I prefer books. Books can’t hurt you.”

“Like I said, I ain’t a big reader but I do like you girly. I promise I’ll be as gentle as I can be. Just give me a chance? A tiny one?”

“How can I give you a chance?” You asked, watching Yondu sag a bit. “When you haven’t even properly asked me out?”

“Ah, I see whatcha did there,” Yondu grinned, showing his sharp teeth. “Y/N, wanna go on a date with an ol’ blue bastard?”

“I’d love too.”