#JUST GONNA TAG HIS NAME IN CASE I DRAW HIM MORE

[cabinet-toon]

CLEVER SMART TOON OC

[jenscx]

LUCID DREAM — ning yizhuo

it’s been years without ning yizhuo in your life. it feels surreal; the day you walked out without an explanation. but just the thought of being able to see her again, it draws you back into the endless loop of loving her.

TAGS — angst, exes to ???, insecurity, model!ning, ambiguous ending, mentions of alcohol, making up, jmj wedding (we don’t actually get to witness it tho)

WORDCOUNT — 7.4k

you stare at the wedding invitation, written neatly at the top, the invitation is addressed to a ning y/n. you want to cry. the invitation clearly stating your ex’s name makes your heart clench uncomfortably. it’s a blaring reminder that your relationship ended and you’re no longer living in your childhood fantasy.

“fuck,” you swear, “fuck you, kim minjeong.” you want to murder minjeong, but who were you to ask minjeong to stop reminding you of your bitter ending? especially since it was your own impulsiveness that had ended the relationship. you could have been more understanding towards yizhuo, could have tried her best to resolve your conflict, but no. instead, you ran. ran like the coward you were.

you remember the brokenhearted look on yizhuo’s face, the devastated glimmer in her eyes before she had flipped her expression to another, like a switch. or more like a broken one, your brain offers unhelpfully. of course, the quiver of her lips had given yizhuo away almost immediately. you had known yizhuo for a third of your life, obviously you could tell when your soulmate– or in this case, ex, was about to break down.

you wish you had stayed, and simply comforted your soulmate like old times, but you couldn’t bear to watch yizhuo cry, because of you. you remember the look on your friends’ faces when you told them that you broke up with yizhuo, all the words they had yelled at her for betraying yizhuo. you remember the anger directed at you by yizhuo’s parents when you had sent them an apology letter. through the post, yizhuo had told you, letters felt more sincere than emails.

but perhaps the worst reaction wasn’t from any of them, it was simply from your own cat. meowing viciously when you had picked him up, bringing him together with you. the scratches lining your arms only serve as a constant reminder. mao, your british short haired, was desperately attached to yizhuo (and she was the one who named him too. what absolute luck.) his hostility could only be reasoned that he knew his owner had hurt yizhuo. if a silly little cat knew the extent of the breakup, what could that mean for you?

“wallowing in your grief again? that’s not good for you,” you peer up at chaewon, the only friend that somehow wasn’t connected to yizhuo. chaewon takes a quick glance at the invitation and giggles, “you’re going? i hope you survive, you haven’t paid this month’s rent yet.”

you merely sigh.

“the place’s gonna be filled with people who hate my guts, you really think i’m going? minjeong probably only sent this to piss me off.”

chaewon frowns, “you don’t seem pissed off, just sad. honey, you have to let me know if they’re bothering you, like actually. it’s not your fault, well– maybe it is, but you’re suffering too. it isn’t nice for them to do this to you.” you shrug in response. you deserve it. you deserve every stab in your heart, you deserve the tears that escape in the middle of the night.

“let’s drink tonight, okay? we’ll put on titanic or something and cry about life while eating ice cream,” chaewon offers. maybe it’s the thought of getting drunk, or titanic, or crying in your friend’s arms, but the offer is appealing and you find yourself agreeing too soon.

you can hear chaewon do a silent cheer. it makes you smile slightly and gives you enough energy to pull yourself up from the floor.

“i’ll go get the soju, just lie on the couch and relax!” you follow as your friend says and lie on the sofa you had picked out together after mao’s claws had sunk into the leather, ripping it to shreds. the cat was a brat.

doesn’t this remind you of something– or someone? the voice in your head quips. you groan, why couldn’t your head shut up sometimes? your heart drops as you recall the conversation between your parents when you had told them you broke things off with yizhuo. you remember your mother’s expression; disappointed and upset, a stark contrast to when you had told her that you finally found someone. the proud look on your father’s when you introduced yizhuo to them, god, why the fuck was yizhuo such an amazing girlfriend?

you caused this. you want to scream ‘no’. you’re the one who dumped yizhuo. who are you to be upset over thi–

“y/n? hey, stop thinking about it,” chaewon pouts, “don’t make yourself even more sad!” you blink back into reality and at the sight of chaewon puffing her cheeks out, holding two bottles of soju and a large bowl of popcorn, make you want to coo at the girl. you push the thoughts of yizhuo to the back of your head as soon as the opening to titanic appears on the screen.

you two laugh sometimes, mostly chaewon, but it’s quiet throughout the movie and you can’t tell whether you’d rather have chaewon’s comments about how cute the actors are or the silence that allows you to delve deeper into your thoughts. you take a sip whenever chaewon mentions how in love jack and rose are.

when you blink, it’s already at the part where jack allows rose to get onto the wooden door, while he stays in the freezing water. chaewon throws popcorn at the tv, apparently already drunk, screaming at rose to quote, “fucking move her ass,” for jack to get on. you take a large gulp of soju in the midst of chaewon’s sniffles.

“y/n…i can’t believe it… she just let jack die!” chaewon cries out, “the love of her life, she just let him go! how could she just let him die?!” you nod, trying to drink the already empty bottle of soju.

when you stand up, the whole room swirls and you stumble back onto the couch. “don’t let her go, y/n!” you jump at the close proximity of chaewon’s voice, “don’t let the love of your life go!”

you hum in agreement and scream, “i won’t let her go!” determined, you pick up your phone and the selfie of you and yizhuo greets her. you miss her, don’t you? of course not. you don’t miss her at all. change your homescreen then. you wouldn’t.

you roll your eyes and enter kakaotalk.

y/n [11.38pm]:

i kiss you

i miss you*

read [11.39pm]

“i did it, chaewon!” you exclaim, “i didn’t let her go!”

drunk you is apparently an idiot, since we all know, if a ‘i love you’ can’t solve a crack, obviously a ‘i miss you’ wouldn’t be able to solve an earthquake.

i miss you too. i miss you so much it hurts. but how could you say that, when you’re the one that left me first? yizhuo doesn’t cry as much anymore. she doesn’t sob into her pillow in the middle of the night anymore. the couple posts that appear on her instagram feed doesn’t make tears well up in her eyes anymore.

it still hurts. hurts as much as it did before. and yizhuo might just have to live with that pain everyday. the misspelt word makes her heart throb, in affection and pain, because she could imagine your voice in her head. are you hurting as much as she is? it doesn’t make the stabbing pain in her chest any better to know that the one she loves is suffering.

yizhuo stares at the glaring light from her phone. i miss you. really y/n? she wants to scoff. you were probably drunk out of your mind and sent that text on a whim. or maybe it was meant for another girl. the thought makes yizhuo want to cry.

is there someone else you call ‘baby' now?

fuck, you think, oh fuck. the read blaring on your phone, as if mocking you.

“shit,” chaewon groans, holding her head, “what happened last night? did we accidentally kill someone?” you wish you did. you take a deep breath, and scream. if the neighbours show up the next moment, it’s totally because of the night before, and not your scream at 8 in the morning.

you calm down. eventually. you calm down after chaewon grabs your shoulders and wiggles you back and forth, yelling for you to get your shit together. it only worsens the raging headache the both of you have. if rent wasn’t so high nowadays, you would have immediately fled and lived alone. kim chaewon with a hangover was not a good sight.

“whatever! you drunk texted your ex! whatever! hashtag yolo right— ah fuck, the room is spinning,” chaewon shrieks, “ugh, why did we drink so much?! but! your life isn’t over! so what if you texted her? it’s okay, we stay delusional and pretend things never happened!”

despite the wacky talk chaewon gives, it actually helps. texting yizhuo, while drunk, was a mistake. you nod hastily, “i get what you’re saying, but please let me go.”

chaewon loosens her grip, pursed lips as she huffs, “the most badass thing you can do now is go to the wedding.”

your eyes widen, “what the hell? kim chaewon, are you crazy? no, you’re insane.”

your roommate only grins lazily, “it came with a plus one invite, right? i’ll go with you. it’ll be okay! and don’t you wanna see your friends again?”

“i do, but most of them hate my guts,” you wince, recalling the angry messages left by aeri and minjeong, none from jimin, that probably speaks for itself what she thought of you, “they were yizhuo’s friends first, and mine second. when it comes to things like this, they would, rightfully so, take yizhuo’s side.”

chaewon whistles, “yeah it’s not looking too good for you right now.”

you flop onto the couch, sighing, “if i see yizhuo, i’ll freeze up and make a fool of myself.” your hands fly to rub at your eyes, groaning miserably, “i guess i’m not over her.”

chaewon slides into the space next to you, scoffing, “you think? having her number saved and pinned is crazy and the last time we talked before this, you were in love with her. what happened?”

your heart constricts painfully. you never spoke about your breakup to anyone, only asking chaewon if she still needed someone to split rent with. the moment you had uttered those words, you had left the shared apartment with yizhuo, not turning back to watch the love of your life collapse.

“i…” your throat dries up, “i was in love with her, i guess i still am. i don’t doubt that she felt the same for me, but maybe not anymore. our relationship was the best thing to ever happen to me. the happiest years of my life were when i was with yizhuo. she made me feel alive.”

tears prick at your eyes involuntarily. chaewon’s gaze is full of pity and comfort. sympathy. no one else gave you that.

“she wanted to get married, chaewon,” you whisper, “she was ready for marriage. i wasn’t.”

“oh.”

“i saw her looking at engagement rings one day and god, it was like, how have i never noticed before? she always shows me videos of weddings and how she would want her wedding to be like, but i never stopped to think whether i wanted marriage. i didn’t know what i would say if yizhuo just proposed. would it have hurt less for her if i said no rather than breaking up with her?”

chaewon presses a comforting hand to your shoulder, sighing, “i’m sorry, i literally see two of you right now but i’ll try to articulate this as best as i can.” her words draw out a hollow laugh from you. “you just weren’t ready yet, and yeah, you should have communicated that to her before jumping in to break up, but have you ever thought that you weren’t ready because you didn’t love her enough?”

you swallow, tears flowing down your cheeks freely, “n-no, i love her. she’s my favourite person. i love her so much, too much even. but getting married? that’s a lifelong commitment. i just didn’t know if she was sure that she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with… me. she has her whole life figured out. she’s a rich model who could have anyone else. we were childhood friends first, before girlfriends. and now she’s certain that she wants to marry me? what if there’s someone better for her out there? she’s only been chained to me because we got together so young. i just… had to let her go.”

“commitment issues,” chaewon states, “you have severe commitment issues.”

“i guess so,” you let out a watery laugh. your roommate chuckles, “you want her back?”

“yeah, i’m desperate.”

“let’s go to the wedding.”

you send a small smile to chaewon, “thanks, roomie.”

“i saw the invite by the way, and damn, are your friends rich? don’t get me wrong, i’m going as your moral support but the free buffet too—”

“i’m literally going to strangle you.”

yizhuo twirls the pen in her hand, watching it glide across her fingers and abruptly landing on the wooden table with a thud. she couldn’t stand seeing all the wedding preparations and chose to hide in jimin’s study. the door creaks open, a figure stands by the doorway.

“hello jimin unnie, aren’t you meant to be looking over the finishing touches of your wedding?” yizhuo asks, her smile dimming as she thinks about marriage. jimin frowns, “minjeong’s doing that. she told me to come check up on you.”

“me?”

“i know how you feel about weddings. we all do,” jimin says bluntly. yizhuo’s lips fall into a thin line. of course her friends were aware. they helped pick out the ring for god’s sake. the weight of a velvet box lying in her bedside table haunts her dreams.

yizhuo stands up from her desk, inching closer to jimin, a faux smile on her face, “you don’t have to worry about me. it’s your special day after all.”

“not yet, but let me worry about my friend for a while more before i get married,” jimin mutters, “minjeong sent an invite to y/n.” yizhuo’s whole body tenses up. a blurry image of you appears in her brain. she immediately shuts that down.

biting the inside of her cheek, yizhuo turns away from jimin with folded arms, “and? did she say she was coming?”

yizhuo hears jimin’s hesitance.

“just say it.”

jimin clears her throat, “she’s coming with a plus one.”

a distant thought forms. a plus one. your new girlfriend? did you find someone else? were you coming to the wedding to flaunt your new lover? yizhuo wasn’t dumb, she knew that her friends disliked you, heavily. minjeong most definitely sent out that invitation with disgust. jimin told her what minjeong had said to you. aeri had barely brushed it off, saying you weren’t worth her time scolding, despite the chain of messages she sent. she knew that you were aware they hated you. why would you come to the wedding?

“i-i’m not sure what’s their relationship, but her name is kim chaewon and oh my god, minjeong’s gonna kill me, y/n requested for a shared hotel room,” jimin utters out nervously. yizhuo’s eyes turn into slits. a shared hotel room?

“i see,” yizhuo says indifferently, contrasting the feelings bubbling inside her, “that’s good to know.”

jimin places a hand on yizhuo’s shoulder, “hey, it could all mean nothing, i don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“does it matter when i’m already like this?” yizhuo retorts back.

“i hope you don’t do anything stupid. before everything, you’re still my friend. if y/n showing up makes you uncomfortable, i’ll tell her she’s not invited,” jimin says softly, “minjeong will understand. you come first.”

“it’s your wedding, jimin. i won’t be a burden to you guys. it’s your day,” yizhuo mirrors jimin’s frown.

jimin’s shoulders slack.

“it’s not about that,” the older girl retorts, exasperated.

“what is it about then?”

“i don’t think minjeong will stay neutral and be calm when she sees y/n,” jimin groans, “she’ll probably pick a fight with her and i don’t want my wife to be stressed and angry on her wedding day.”

yizhuo can’t help teasing jimin, “wife, huh?”

jimin smirks, “yes, wife. you know last week, minjeong called me—”

“oh kay! i think you should go!” yizhuo yells, saving herself from the details of her friends’ intimate lives. jimin cackles maniacally as she leaves the study. yizhuo sighs and leans her head against the wooden door. jimin’s footsteps can be heard as she walks downstairs, along with the voices of her friends. they’re all scattered and anxious, she hears the distant shouting of minjeong and aeri. despite the noise around her, yizhuo feels somewhat at peace. for now. she doesn’t know what she’s going to do the moment you come to the wedding.

because despite what everyone else says, yizhuo cannot move on. you were literally half of her life and more. when you had uttered those words of devastation, it was like the world had ended. a terrible nightmare that tortured yizhuo every single day. was she too overbearing? sometimes— well, last time, you had mentioned that she was a very affectionate and clingy girlfriend. was that the sole reason? yizhuo frowns. no, that couldn’t be. you were equally as physically needy as her.

maybe you had found someone new? the plus one that was coming? that didn’t seem plausible either. if you were cheating, yizhuo would most definitely know and you abhorred cheaters anyway.

as she wrecked her mind for reasons, a common past time she developed after you had left, the constant rewinding of the conversation had been engraved in her brain eternally.

(yizhuo had just gotten off work, a smile on her face as she entered the house, heels clacking against the floor. the thought of you waiting at home impatiently for her only brought her smile to widen. maybe you would run up to her and embrace her warmly, complaining about how long she took. yet, neither of those happened and she’s left staring at you, hunched over, at the dining table, a suitcase packed by your side.

“what are you doing?” she had asked curiously. were you going on a trip? begrudgingly, you had gotten up, a sombre look on your face as you whispered, “yizhuo…”

that ticked yizhuo off. you never called her yizhuo. it was always baby, honey, sweetheart. but never yizhuo. it sounded so foreign and cold coming from your lips.

“what’s wrong? is everything okay?” she asked.

your face contorts into one of utter desperation and heartbreak, “i think we should break up.”

yizhuo’s mind had gone blank. she had never anticipated hearing those words from you. break up? that wasn’t in her future with you. her heart clenched uncomfortably against her ribcage and her throat constricted, to the point she couldn’t mutter a single word.

taking advantage of her silence, you run your fingers through your hair, the hair that yizhuo would so lovingly comb through every night as she whispered words of devotion into your ear, “i want to break up.”

“no.” is the only thing yizhuo can say. wide-eyed and stupefied, “no.”

you look as stunned as she is, yet the stark difference between the two of you, are the tears that threaten to tip over at every passing second in your eyes.

“yizhuo,” you pleaded, “i’m sorry. i can’t.”

“why are you doing this?” she croaked out, demanding an answer. the weight of the velvet box in her purse felt like it was dragging her down to the darkest pits of hell. she couldn’t imagine something like this ever happening. you were meant to be her happily ever after.

“i—”

yizhuo couldn’t stand it anymore. “tell me why you want to break up!” she yelled, the confusion and fatigue of her body overwhelming everything.

“i… please… don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“you don’t love me anymore? you found someone else?” yizhuo accused. of course, none of these were the true reasons. you couldn’t even look at yizhuo in the eye before murmuring an apology again and grasping the suitcase in your hand.

“i love you,” you had whispered at the door, “i’m sorry.”

yizhuo doesn’t even respond. pure shock overtaking her as she watched you leave. the moment the door had closed, sobs took over yizhuo as she collapsed on the floor, heartbroken and devastated at losing the love of her life.

if you truly loved her, you wouldn’t have left so easily.)

that statement plagues yizhuo’s mind for the next few years. it replays in her head repeatedly, like a broken mantra. she knows that it’s unhealthy; to be thinking of you every night before she succumbs to a dreamless sleep. yet, sometimes, yizhuo prays that she might be dreaming, and when she wakes up, you would be right by her side. jimin thinks she should get a therapist. but yizhuo doesn’t want to get over you. she fears that you might just become a hazy memory, lost in anger and grief. she doesn’t want that to happen. because despite everything, the pain you have caused her, she still loves you.

it’s strange, the way love works. yizhuo hates you for doing this to her; ruining her for anyone else because if they even bore a similar trait to you, she would just break down. like the blind date aeri had set her up on long ago. fresh out of the breakup, and with extreme bribery and convincing, yizhuo had met shen xiaoting, one of aeri’s friends, over dinner. aeri had said that maybe yizhuo needed someone closer to her culture, and with the homesickness she felt constantly, the lack of comforting words that you provided, yizhuo agreed.

that date was the whole reason aeri stopped asking yizhuo to go on blind dates, for when xiaoting had mentioned that she liked cats, yizhuo had started bawling, the memory of you playing with your own pet cursing her mind.

it was embarrassing to say the least, and even more embarrassing to explain to xiaoting that it wasn’t her fault. the poor girl had thought yizhuo had something against cats. aeri apologised endlessly as yizhuo cried, with an awkward xiaoting patting her shoulder. at least they became friends.

maybe, with the support of her friends, yizhuo would be able to stand the sight of you at the wedding. it would be totally fine! and if she sees you with someone new, maybe, just maybe, it would give her the motivation to finally get over you.

honestly, screw everything. you literally hate chaewon right now. thankfully, jimin and minjeong had provided a one night stay at the hotel. your apartment (and mao) was being taken care of by sakura, one of chaewon’s friends. there was apparently a party before the actual day. you assumed they would just want a shared bachelorette party. however, your self-proclaimed wingman was cozying up to one of the guests. by her straight posture and gentle expression, she was probably nakamura kazuha from high school. yizhuo was friends with her, you remember.

you couldn’t believe that all those words of encouragement had flown out the window the moment chaewon locked eyes with the ‘love of her life’. you roll your eyes, already annoyed with your friend. somehow, you still hadn’t spotted yizhuo amongst the crowd.

most of them, you didn’t recognise. some, from high school and college. the rest, probably family members. maybe some faces stood out, like shin ryujin from history class or jang wonyoung, the valedictorian. but mostly, unrecognisable. from the various mops of hair in the crowd, you spot uchinaga aeri’s infamous smirk. you wonder where the rest of the group are.

you sigh, taking a lonely sip of the champagne they provided. at least it was good.

chaewon’s obnoxious laughter fills the area. it’s loud and irritating, or maybe you’re just easily annoyed right now. kazuha just stares at her, all confused. it’s a little funny.

“y/n.” a steely voice rings out from the crowd. you whip your head, heart racing at the familiar but dreadful tone.

“oh,” you whisper, horror-stricken. you weren’t prepared to meet them now!

the older girl merely stares at you, before you bow your head hesitantly, “congratulations on your marriage.”

jimin visibly loosened up, her eyes twinkling and shining with adoration, “thank you.” perhaps out of all of yizhuo’s friends, jimin was the one who hated you the least. she didn’t bother scolding you or cursing you out, only choosing to glare at you.

“i think we should talk,” she finally says after a moment of silence. you wholeheartedly agree with her. if you were meant to see yizhuo tomorrow, you definitely needed another friend that wasn’t chaewon.

she brings you out of the function room, the starry night sky being the only company outside. jimin takes a long gulp of her champagne.

“why’d you really break up with yizhuo?”

the patiently and dedicated stitches of a sewed wound are ripped apart, directly exposing your bleeding heart and emotions. everything comes falling apart the moment she asks. you can only stare at her.

“i… i made a mistake,” you shake your head, “i wasn’t ready.”

jimin, patient as always, hums, urging you to continue.

“she wanted to get married. i didn’t,” you say, with grief and regret lacing your every word, because everything would be fine if you had just talked to yizhuo.

“we helped her pick out the ring,” jimin adds. you only feel more guilty.

“i can’t give her the life she wants, unnie,” the endearing term of intimacy slips out, a cry filled with desperation, “she deserves the world and i can’t give her that.”

“you were her world. it’s that simple. she only ever wanted you.”

hurt gnaws at your heart, it’s palpitating with raw stabs that echo of your heartbreak.

“i don’t deserve her,” you sigh, “i had to let her go. i couldn’t bear to see the look on her face if i refused her engagement.”

jimin nods, “i understand your fear. but i hate the fact that this could have been solved with an explanation.”

you groan, anger coursing through your veins. you were so upset and narrow-minded at the time. the only solution was to seemingly break up with yizhuo. it would spare her the everlasting pain from a rejection of her proposal.

“i know, i just couldn’t at that time.”

the older girl tries to smile. it’s akin to one of those encouraging ones she would give right before an exam or test. it sparks a shiver of nostalgia.

“jagiya, where are you— oh.”

jimin quickly straightens up, swiftly turning around to face minjeong with a grin, “hey, mindoong.”

you tense up, your fingers wrapping around the glass tightly.

“glad you could make it,” minjeong’s eyes flicker up and down your body, venom evident in her tone as she hisses, “y/n.”

nodding, you reply, “thank you for inviting me.”

the tension is overbearing; with minjeong’s glares, jimin’s beaming smile and your awkward shuffling, you couldn’t wait to retreat to the comfort of your hotel room.

“where’s your girlfriend?” minjeong suddenly asks. you stare at her, confused, “my what?”

jimin’s eyes widen as she hastily pulls minjeong aside, frantically whispering in her ear. but like the past, jimin has never been a good whisperer. you catch phrases like ‘she might not be her girlfriend’ and ��what if yizhuo hears?’. a looming sensation brews in your stomach.

“kim chaewon? is that her name?” minjeong asks harshly, “didn’t take you to like korean girls, i thought you liked chinese girls instead.”

you’re visibly taken aback. what was minjeong saying? chaewon? your girlfriend? since when was chaewon your girlfriend?

“uh,” despite your fear of minjeong yelling at you, your words come out firmly, “chaewon isn't my girlfriend.”

minjeong falters slightly before scoffing, “yeah right. you don’t have to lie now. we all know that you left yizhuo for some other girl.”

your heart stops. what?

what was she saying?

leaving yizhuo for another girl?

“i— i would never… that’s—”

“minjeong unnie, that’s enough.”

you’ve thought of this moment forever. every single day after the break up. you’ve thought of running back into her arms, apologising endlessly for even thinking of breaking up with her. you’ve thought of how she would accept you graciously with murmurs of comfort, because that was just how she was. a gracious and generous girl who deserved the world. you’ve thought of her bright smile and gleaming eyes.

you’ve never thought of her staring at you, a dull and saddened look on her face.

“ning—”

“minjeong unnie,” she pleads, “please.”

the watery gaze must have swayed minjeong over. you would know, having fallen prey to her puppy eyes before. yizhuo slides the door open, watching intently as minjeong and jimin leave.

“good luck,” jimin whispers just before she steps away. you think you need all the luck in the world right now.

yizhuo lets out a heavy sigh once the door slides closed. she gazes at you for a second. you’re taken back to your younger days, where every day was spent just staring at yizhuo. you had proclaimed confidently that yizhuo was the most gorgeous girl on earth. you aren’t wrong. the years you spent apart from her had done her generously. it had only been two, yet, yizhuo looked more mature and sure of herself.

“did you really find someone new?” she whispers, shattering the glass of ignorance. you swallow, shaking your head, “no.”

yizhuo thinks back to the drunken message you had sent.

“was that on purpose? that text you sent,” she asks, eyes wide and afraid of your answer.

you shake your head again, “i was drunk. i’m sorry.”

“i hate you, you know that right?” yizhuo says. before, you had imagined the piercing stab of pain that came with those words. you had thought it would be the end of your life, with the girl you loved the most saying she hated you.

it’s understandable now, and inevitable.

“i know,” you whisper.

yizhuo continues to stare at you. somehow, this all feels like a fever dream, one that she’ll wake up from soon. it feels unreal to have you in front of her again.

she takes in the sight of you, memorising every detail for if you leave again.

“why’d you come then?”

there are many reasons that you can say, with varying degrees of truthfulness; to congratulate jimin and minjeong, to see your friends again, to just visit your hometown.

“i wanted to see you.” it’s the truthest thing you’ve ever said.

“you can’t,” yizhuo inhales sharply, “yo-you can’t just show up like this.”

“i know, i’m sorry.”

your head hangs lowly.

“tell me the real reason why you left.”

you had expected this.

she would want closure.

your throat constricts uncomfortably.

“i… yizhuo…”

“tell me.” it feels similar to your past.

yizhuo looks as beautiful as ever. she’s the only thing you can think of right now. her lips are moving, yet you don’t hear a single thing.

“i didn’t want marriage.”

oh.

the girl’s eyebrows furrow. her eyes turning into slits of anger as she takes in a deep breath. you know she’s about to start tearing up. maybe you should quickly explain yourself.

it’s your only chance.

“i saw you looking at engagement rings and i knew i wouldn’t be ready if you got down on one knee. you’re a model, for god’s sake. you had a prospering career, being tied down to someone like me wouldn’t bring you any benefits,” you finally say. it’s not the full reason why, but you hope yizhuo would understand even a semblance of your choice.

“i know that it’s a shitty excuse. i know that i’m a coward. but what else was i meant to do?”

yizhuo huffs.

“talked to me. you could have talked to me.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“would that stop me from breaking your heart?”

the love of your life stands before you. yet, it seems like the only words of devotion you’ll exchange is how devoted she is to hating you. yizhuo crosses her arms, frowning, “yes. i’d much rather have a minute of heartbreak than years of it. you’re such a prick.”

“yizhuo—”

“no, you don’t get to do this,” she points a finger at your chest, prodding the area where your head resides ferociously, “you can’t just come back, explain yourself with an extremely stupid reason, and expect that i would be okay with it. you sent me a drunk text, saying you missed me. how come i don’t feel anything?”

“i love you, yizhuo. i just did what i thought was right in that moment—”

the only thing you can hear is your heart shattering into pieces at the sight of tears falling down her face. yizhuo sniffles, her voice becoming shrill as she adds on, “you’re an asshole. you think you’re the only one in this relationship? you didn’t even explain yourself properly. you think you’re making the right choices for us? for me?”

you continue to stare at her blankly.

the next words come out like a gunshot, “then you don’t know me at all.”

it snaps onto your skin, leaving a scathing burn and engraving ning yizhuo’s name into your body. your insides coil up painfully. hearing yizhuo’s cries as you left years ago had been torturous, but nothing beats her breaking down in front of you right this instant. you’re overcome with a striking urge to pull her into your arms and whisper words of affection into her ears, promising her to never leave. the pet name leaves your mouth quicker than you can think.

“baby—”

a sharp stinging sensation sears in your right cheek. you can feel the affected area heating up, scorching hot and red. yizhuo’s handprint is evident, singed in your skin.

an onslaught of tears rises, but you’re determined to not let them fall.

“okay,” you whisper, unable to say anything else to the equally stunned yizhuo, “i’ll leave. i’m sorry.”

the girl just stands outside in the cold, her eyes bloodshot and cheeks rosy from the wind. before you go, the slight shiver that runs through her body makes you hesitate. the comfort of your jacket feels like a heavy burden now.

maybe you would get slapped again. but at least yizhuo wouldn’t be cold.

gently taking it off, you encase yizhuo in your jacket, biting your cheek (which still hurts!) to resist a smile at how it covers her small figure. she gazes at you like a deer caught in headlights. you sigh and try to move your legs, but they feel like jelly. with much difficulty, you finally make it to the door, using the frame to stabilise your wobbly walking.

when you turn back, yizhuo isn’t staring at you, but she’s staring at the night sky, more specifically, the moon. you take one last look at her. the weight on your shoulders is gone now. and all that is left is a longing feeling to have yizhuo back in your arms again. but maybe, you could live with that.

sliding the door open, you go back into the function room. the crowd had dispersed, leaving just a few people chatting around. you spot jimin and minjeong talking while drinking. aeri’s at the bar, engaged in a conversation with a waitress. chaewon, god bless her, is relatively nearby, while kazuha is nowhere to be found.

“chaewon,” you breathe out, relieved. she turns to you, startled, “oh damn, what happened to your face? you look a little…”

“i know,” you laugh dryly, “i think it’s time for us to leave and go to sleep now.”

chaewon doesn’t argue and instead nods, her eyes drawn to the reddening mark across your cheek. even in the dark light, she could still notice the imprints of someone’s fingers.

“she slapped you?” she asks while you head towards the elevator.

“yeah,” you scratch the back of your neck, “we kind of… argued.”

chaewon laughs heartily at your misfortune. you’re glad at least this brings someone joy. maybe minjeong too. she would love to see you in pain.

“i think you should get some rest buddy,” she pats your back. you nod, feeling as if sleep was just an arm’s reach away.

the conversation with yizhuo had drained you significantly, both mentally and physically. and maybe you should put some ointment on the red area too. you might wake up with a bruise or something tomorrow.

the urge to flop into bed is too strong as chaewon slides the keycard into the slot. the door opens, revealing a luxurious hotel suite with a king-sized bed. you remember requesting for a shared room. it was to mainly prevent yourself from doing anything reckless when drunk. you’d have chaewon to keep you grounded.

“did you get kazuha’s number?” you ask as chaewon throws her face cleanser at you. the girl giggles, “yeah. she’s so cute.”

you subtly cringe at the lovestruck look in her eyes.

groaning, you head into the bathroom. your eyes widen as you prod at your cheek, shocked that yizhuo landed such a heavy hit. damn, has she been going to the gym lately? the yizhuo back then barely had any strength to resist your tickles. there wasn’t any surging hot anger left from yizhuo slapping you, just a dull and yearning hope for her. maybe you should calm yourself down by taking a cold shower.

after dowsing yourself with water, you padded out of the bathroom, only to discover that chaewon wasn’t hunched over her luggage anymore.

you check your phone.

chaewon [10.27pm]:

zuha texted me, staying w her for the night

there’s ointment on the bedside table

for ur stupid face

bye :p

wow. chaewon had managed to do that within a day. staying at a girl’s hotel room? you whistle lowly. maybe she was onto something. but with her departure, the hotel room feels too quiet now. only the breezing and fluttering sounds of the airconditioning accompanying your thoughts of self-loathing. collapsing onto the bed, you reach out for the ointment.

just as you unscrew the cap, the doorbell rings. you don’t recall ever ordering room service. maybe it was chaewon and she forgot something?

you turn the door knob, not bothering to check who it was.

“chaewon—”

ning yizhuo stands before you, glassy eyes and a look of desperation that you’re familiar with.

“oh.”

she shuffles awkwardly, gesturing at your cheek, “are—is it okay? does it hurt?”

gulping, you shake your head.

“can we talk?” she asks, in the quietest voice ever, her words coming out shaky and breathless.

you open the door wider.

yizhuo mutters a soft, “thank you,” as she enters the room. you quickly send a text to chaewon telling her not to come back.

“did you put any cream on it?” she asks.

“no, not yet. i was just about to,” you reply quietly. the tension from the heated argument from before had disapparented, only leaving a strained relationship behind.

“can you sit down?”

you follow her instructions dutifully, sitting right at the edge of the bed. yizhuo lifts the ointment up, squeezing a bit on her finger before gently rubbing it into your cheek. it hurts, but the softness of her touch heals the area.

wincing as she applies more pressure, you can only stare at the girl.

“i’m sorry,” she whispers.

“it’s okay.”

you want to pull her into your arms.

you want her to lean onto you.

you want the feeling of her skin against yours.

“i was really hurt.”

“i know.”

yizhuo sighs, her hands dropping.

“i can’t believe you left me so easily.”

your chest tightens at the devastated tone in her voice. it wasn’t easy, you want to say. but it doesn’t feel right to defend yourself now.

“i thought it was the right thing to do.”

yizhuo lifts her head up, “why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to get married?”

“i don’t know,” it comes out in a hushed murmur, “i didn’t want to tie you down. you had a lot more things to accomplish.”

“i’d rather have you and nothing than losing you and having everything.”

the confession goes unsaid. because you’re her everything.

“i’m sorry. you just had your whole life in front of you and i was in the back. i… i didn’t fit into your life.”

the girl takes everything in. you were just so afraid then. scared that once you said yes to her proposal, yizhuo might realise that you weren’t the one for her. you’d rather be away from her, than be with her and make her unhappy. you didn’t want to live a miserable life where you hated each other.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me.”

“i know, yizhuo.”

yizhuo’s eyes are brimming with tears. her raven hair covering her face partially, but you can feel the pain radiating off her.

“you know that i would have been happy just being with you?”

“i know.”

“god, you still left like it was the easiest decision of your life.”

no it wasn’t, you again want to protest.

“you know that even in another life, i would choose to just have you by my side, even if i lose everything else? don’t you understand the extent of my love for you?”

it’s so surreal— the way yizhuo is practically begging for you to realise that leaving her was the worst possible choice for you to make.

“i love you too much.”

“then why’d you leave?” she asks.

through tears, you shakily breathe out, “because i love you too much.”

the lack of past tense doesn’t bother you, nor does it bother yizhuo. it’s a given that you’re still madly in love with the girl, and vice versa. it only leaves the question of what will happen now. yizhuo doesn’t say much afterwards. it’s the truth. you love her too much that you couldn’t bear to see her suffer because of you.

“i was so ready to marry you, i bought a ring,” yizhuo mutters, shedding tears. her sniffles aren’t concealed by the low humming of the air conditioning. it feels too real.

“forgive me, please,” you say.

“i can’t.”

the hotel room goes quiet.

“that’s okay,” it’s hard to say. you want to protest against everything, beg yizhuo to take you back and you could live your happily ever after with her.

it doesn’t happen. you don’t fall to your knees and plead.

you only stare at yizhuo in a mix of fear and longing affection. it pains you to see her so broken, and it only drives the knife further into your heart to know you’re the reason why.

“i’m so tired, y/n.”

you nod, feeling the fatigue seep in.

“me too.”

“can i sleep here tonight?” yizhuo asks softly.

you nod. there were still things to talk about, but you think you’ve done a decent job so far. pulling the covers over your bodies as yizhuo slides into the bed, you relish in the warmth and comfort of having her beside you again.

she turns her head to look at you, uncertainty filling her voice, “let’s talk more in the morning. i’m tired now.”

you agree with her wholeheartedly, inching closer to fit against her back.

as yizhuo’s eyelids flutter shut, you caress her skin tenderly. your index finger writes against her back, strokes lining her skin.

我爱你.

i love you. it’s one of the many phrases you’ve picked up throughout the years of being with the girl. she only taught you silly words and swears, but yizhuo had insisted you learn how to say and write those very words.

it’s fitting, because it’s all you ever feel for her.

because of yizhuo, you’ve had the opportunity to experience having a soulmate for almost your whole life. because of yizhuo, there’s no lingering doubt of being unlovable. because of yizhuo, you get to spend your days filled with happiness.

because of yizhuo, you understand what love is.

you just hope she understands you too.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

What A View

Steven Grant x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: A trip to the Shard goes a little differently.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: The Shard is the tallest building in London. Also totally another case of my mind just jumping to something else in the bingo other than what was probably implied. So this is 'High Sex' and obviously I went, 'oh, right, so high in the sky?' I am so smart. (lie).

Warnings: swearing, p in v sex, Steven kinda having an exhibition kink, overuse of italics, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1329

You hadn’t expected the afternoon to play out like this. 

With your back pressed against the cool glass, Steven spreading you wide. His fingers dug into the fleshy part of your left thigh, pushing on your leg as you just about managed to keep your balance by pressing the ball of your foot against the marble sink. 

You’d spotted a discount voucher for the Shard and had asked if Marc, Steven, and Jake would like to come with you. 

Marc had rolled his eyes playfully, “I’ve seen London from up high plenty of times,” and declined.

Jake had been sleeping. 

Steven had grinned and nodded excitedly. “You know love, I’ve never actually been up the Shard? It’s true what they say, you live in London but you don’t do the normal tourist things.” 

Everything had been relatively normal on the way, though the elevator to the upper floors and viewing platform had been a little busy. Both you and Steven had shuffled into a corner, your back to his chest. 

He’d gone quiet after a few seconds, his grip on your hand tightening as his muscles stiffened. For a moment you had thought that Marc had fronted. 

Once you were on the right floor you had barely stepped out, heading towards the large wall length windows when Steven had pulled you in the opposite direction and dragged you into a bathroom. 

You hadn’t even had a chance to question him before his lips were on yours and his hands slipped under your top. 

You held onto his shoulders for dear life, up on the tiptoes of your right foot as he slammed into you. His thick cock hitting so deep you could see stars. 

You moaned against his hand, his palm haphazardly covering your mouth in a hasty attempt to muffle your sounds. You had never been much of a screamer during sex until you’d met them. 

No matter how hard you try little groans escape your mouth with every frantic thrust of his hips. He angles upwards with every buck, hitting just right on the spot he knows so well and rubbing his public bone against your clit with every motion. 

Steven’s own mouth is pressed into your neck, biting and sucking and leaving sloppy kisses as he tries to muffle his whines. He had always been a screamer. 

You pull tightly on his shirt, a fraction away from ripping the cotton as pleasure coils in your stomach, building higher and impossibly higher.

His name is muffled by his hand as you say it, breathless and needy, but he still hears it. 

He pulls his mouth away from your skin just far enough to speak, frowning in concentration as he tries to keep his voice under control. “You… okay?” 

The slap, slap, slap of skin almost drowns him out. 

You nod, eyes closed but still let out a soft whine and he picks up the pace, fucking you even harder, like he is trying to get caught, trying to make you scream his name so loudly that the whole of the city will hear you.

“That’s it love, that’s it,” he whines, nipping at your neck and groaning as you clench around him. He knows you’re so close, can feel you approaching orgasm buzzing along your skin like electricity, practically taste it in the air. He wants it so badly, needs it more than breathing. 

“You… you… gonna be…” he swallows, having to fight back his own moans even more. “You gonna… be good? Gonna… gonna…” he bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood as he pistons his hips. Everything’s too much it’s blinding, dizzying. But not enough. 

The way you squeeze him, your back arching off the glass as you meet his thrusts desperately. The bright sky behind you, the sweat on your skin. His tongue darts out to lick a stripe up your neck and he groans, his eyes rolling back.

There’s a light mist forming around you on the glass, the heat from both your bodies collecting. 

“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear, his own pleasure close on his heels. “God, can you imagine if someone was cleaning the windows,” all his words come out in a rush, “and they just, fuck, just saw us here. Saw you moaning and taking my cock so well, saw how pretty you are all full of me and just begging. Saw how I need to keep you quiet so we don’t get caught because you just, just need it so bad that you can’t stop, and, and-” He groans loudly, the sound turning into a whine. “Love, fuck, please, please, please,” he punctuates every word with a sharp snap of his hips that has you reeling, sinking into pleasure.

“I need you to,” he groans as you squeeze and clench around him, your pussy fluttering and trying to pull him deeper. “I need to hear you.” He gasps, “please, if I move my hand can you please try, can you try not to be too loud? Please. I,” he moans again, “please, need it so bad, need it, need you.” 

You nod rapidly, barely getting a chance to register his words in your hazy, lust filled mind before he rips his hand away from your mouth and grabs onto your shoulder, pressing the full length of his body up against up against yours as he pounds into you. 

“Steven,” you moan, just managing to keep your voice below your regular talking level. 

He groans in response, much louder than you. 

“I’m gonna-”

He kisses you roughly, sliding his tongue messily into your mouth for a moment. 

“Gonna come, love? Gonna come on me?” His voice rises in pitch towards the end and you nod, your thoughts all turned to mush as all you can comprehend is the feel of his skin and the heat of his body as he pushes you higher and higher to ecstasy. 

“Need you to,” he whines, tears just pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Need you to.”

You moan his name, gasping against him. Every muscle tenses as he finally pushes you over the edge you've been dancing by. Pleasure washes over every nerve, running over your spine as you convulse and cling onto him like a lifeline. 

Steven whines, fucking you through your orgasm even as he comes, pumping his hot, thick cum deep inside and filling you to the brim. 

You breathe heavily as you both come back to yourselves, holding each other tightly. The sweat starts to cool on your skin and you swallow, a sudden flash of panic flicking to the forefront of your mind. 

“Do you think anyone heard us?” You ask quietly. 

Steven shakes his head, still pressed into your neck. “We weren’t that loud.”

You laugh. “You sure?” 

“Nope.” 

You laugh harder. 

“Honestly, love, I don’t give a shit.” 

“Really?” 

“Hmm.” He looks up at you with a large grin on his face, his eyes soft and loving. “Too happy to care. Anyone says anything, I’ll sort them.” 

You giggle at his playful tone. “My hero.” 

He chuckles and kisses you softly.

“Does this count as joining the mile high club?” He giggles, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead. 

You shake your head as you laugh.

“Oh, well.” There’s a soft flush to his skin, an afterglow of his orgasm that you hate to admit makes heat pool a little in your stomach.

Steven notices the slight change in your expression, the small clench as you squeeze around his softening cock.

He groans softly and presses close to you again, mouthing at the love bites he’s left on your neck. He grinds against you slowly, not pulling out but pressing up against your clit with a roll of his hips. 

The little surprised gasp that leaves your lips makes him smile. 

“Give me a minute love,” he mutters, keeping up the soft rock and glide. “Maybe we can be louder this time.” 

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[theorphicangel]

𝐈 𝐨𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭. | levi ackerman x reader |

a/n: here we go again…repost from ao3 !!

tags: fluff, make-out, established relationship, gn reader

“Don’t.” comes the first warning.

Of course, you don’t listen. You brush your feet against his calf again under the duvet, your cold toes contrasting his warm skin. He seethes through his teeth at the contact and your name is said out loud in a stern voice.

The dark room fills with your giggles as youattempt to hide your face beneath the covers. So much for a quiet night in.

“I’ll make you sleep on the couch.” he threatens, it’s an empty one but it’s still enough to make you hold back on your behavior.

Yet the impulse rises again.

You nudge closer, this time planting your cold hands on his thighs before drawing back excitedly like a mischievous child.

You await anxiously with your face half covered with the duvet amongst the pauses of silence. You hold back a laugh just at the thought of imagining the expression that would be on his face right now.

“I fucking warned you.” were the last words you heard. You’re not really sure how or when but suddenly Levi’s hands found their way to the sides of your waist, his fingertips poking the sides of your stomach as you shriek with laughter, legs involuntarily kicking as you fail to escape from his reach. Your lungs feel like they’re about to burst from your hysterics.

His fingers move over to another well-known ticklish spot of yours and your body convulses involuntarily. Tears welling up in your eyes from your laughter, you gasp for breath before pleading to your lover, “Okay! Okay! I surrender, I surrender!”

Levi’s fingers stroke the sides of your stomach again to confirm your case. You’re still shaking with laughter beside him by the time he releases you from his grip.

“You’re gonna have to serve a sentence for your crimes,” he muttered as you wiped away tears from your eyes.

“Yes, judge. Do your worst.”

He raises a brow, “You’re not asking for mercy?” You shake your head at his question and you can just about make out the shadow of his face in the darkness of your shared bedroom. Levi thinks carefully for a second before announcing your punishment.

“A kiss.”

You gasp dramatically, “That’s too harsh your honor, for a mere scoundrel like me?”

“Fine.” he sighed, “two.”

“My client deserves a more lenient sentence, your honor.” you reply.

“You can’t be your own lawyer idiot.” he stated, frowning at you.

“Yes I can! C’mon give me the sentence.” you defend, nudging your elbow at his side.

He tuts before finalizing your charge. “Three then.”

You giggle happily before leaning over and placing a small kiss on his lips, plump and soft as always. “One.” he says, after you pull away for a moment before you return for your second.

“Two.” he grumbles.

You go in for the third but instead of placing a short peck on his lips, you linger this time deepening the kiss ever so slightly before you part. “Three!” you say before he gets the chance to.

But before you can fully pull away his hand suddenly cups your cheek and pulls you onto his lips once more with haste.

Despite being caught off guard you manage to delve into the kiss with a sweet hum escaping. Your mind turned blank, solely focused on him and the sweet taste of his lips.

Locks of his hair brushed your forehead as your body tingled with a rush of adrenaline. Low moans escaped from his own lips, sweetly curved against your own as goosebumps patterned his skin at his desperate hunger for you.

Finally parting for air, you beamed with delight before teasing him. “That wasn’t part of the agreement was it?” you say, your head now rested on his chest.

“You’re a brat.” he says, his arm wrapped tightly around your figure. A mumble came from you with your cheek squished against his shoulder.

“I object, you came in for that last one not me.”

taglist: @notgoodforlife @youre-ackermine @lovolee3 @the-milk-anon @evas-leslas @imkumichan @levi-supreme @leviismybby @bejewelledd @searriously @luvjiro

to join the taglist fill the form here!

[prostocupoftea]

I have done what kinitopet fandom (probably) does not have but totally does (not) need... a CRIME AU! i am so sorry

Tw on poorly drawn guns, masks, scars, robbery police etc baisicly crime stuff

I have so much work why am i doing this... it is like 3 am...... aNYWAY---

More yapping and magnifyed parts under the cut

I was just literally sitting in the bus from uni and like "jeez can't imagine how those with full au-s abt tsp or kp, that must be so hard, i have one design and im already dying

And than i thought what au can i do for kinitopet

And here i am, 5 hours later with full ref-sheet and a little story idea in my head

Okay now to the au

It might be bad it might be okay-ish, well an okay-ish option is that they are like "Bad Guys"-ajesent group, you know, rob banks, skedadle with money, no killing, etc, all to make them redeamable, but, i mean.... they are horror charscters.... we all want our qute kinito but, u know...... he literally does not take "no" for an answer, just saying

So my idea is that maybe kinito does crime to get attentoin of that one detective, you know, "You" and does those "hello, you!" like he is talking to everyone while specifically naming You (((:

Aaand he is really in crime for that cat-n-mouse game, money are a bonus to do more crime with, he is just resl smart and wants to find soneone who is as intelligent as him and can catch him (or at least follow his clues)

Also they wear matching fake tatoos bc statistically most people are gonna notice a tatoo and they are gonna search you by it

And they have their secret normal lifes ofc bc why not

Sooooooo, i'll probably would never draw those guys again unless i guess y'all really like them, but in any case be free to take them and do whatev ya want, just tag/credit me (:

[celestialspecial]

In Cold Blood (pt 1)

Synopsis: A slew of murders have you and the other detectives scratching their heads, but the killer himself seems beyond fascinated with you.

Warnings: This is probably my most warning heavy story- mentions and graphic descriptions of blood/gore, death, murder (serial killer!billy is a giveaway), weapons including gun/knives, home invasion mentions, eventual smut lets just say EVERYTHING IS 18+- read at your own discretion

Tag list: @vermillionwinter , @nerdyreaderpapi

You turned a corner, feet hitting the pavement as fast as they could. Water splashed up from a puddle but it didn’t slow you down. The buzz of traffic didn’t calm your racing heart as you skidded to a stop down a corner alley.

How had this happened? You were so sure of yourself. So careful. At least that’s how it felt. 

It had started innocently enough, well maybe innocent wasn’t the correct choice of words.

It had started with the death of a local businessman. He’d been found in an alleyway, shoved between trash bins. Multiple knife wounds scattered across his torso and neck. You’d been called to investigate the scene with the other officers.

It had left your mouth dry, the other officers you worked with were rarely left speechless but this….this did it. The brutality of it was unmatched from anything you’d investigated before.

Then a few weeks later there was a woman found murdered in a similar fashion, body left in Central Park for anyone to find. Then there was another and another. It made your stomach turn. 

Then you found yourself volunteering to be on the case. To figure out who the bastard was. Why they were doing this. And to put them away for as long as possible. 

The longer you researched and devoted your time and energy to figuring out how to catch the murderer the less it made sense. There was no rhyme or reason or outright motives that stood out to you. Just a building body count.

That’s when you got the first call.

You’d been working from the office late one night, pouring over the latest crumb of evidence you’d been able to scrounge up. A blurry cctv blip of footage capturing a large figure in a black hoodie up over their head leaving the building where the last victim was found.

The noise jolted you from your seat, the blinds drawn in your office and the steady hum of the fluorescent lights overhead wearing away at your eyes. It was late. Very late. No one you knew would be up at this hour. Not unless it was an emergency.

You didn’t recognize the number. So not a friend or relative popping up on caller ID. You let it ring another few times before sighing, with a roll of your eyes and sliding to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Detective Archer.” You felt your body freeze at your name being used. The voice crackled on the other end. Deep. Male. But it was edited somewhat, like he was speaking through some sort of device to conceal his voice. 

“Who is this?”

“Ah ah ah that’s on a need to know basis.”

“And I don’t need to know?” You pushed away from your desk standing to walk over to your closed office door. Peeking through the blinds to see the still empty office.

“I’m not in your office if that’s what you think.” Your blood ran cold as you froze in place, fingers just pulling away from the door.

“Are you…watching me?” Your eyes flitted to the windows on the right side of your office, rushing over and drawing the blinds closed.

“Always.” 

The word hung on the phone line, heavy silence.

“You’re him.”

“There’s a lot of “hims” out there, I’m going to need you to be more specific.” He was taunting you.

“The killer.” Laughter rang out in the other end.

“It took you a little while there, detective. Here I was thinking you were the top of your class.” 

“Why are you calling me?” You moved back to your desk wondering if there was some way you could trace the call from your cell phone. 

“To ask what your favorite scary movie is.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re gonna get.” 

“Come on Detective, play a little game with me.”

“Is that what you think this is?” You hissed into the phone. “A fuckin game?” Your heart pounded in your chest. Rage bubbling up and leeching into your voice.

“It is to me.” 

Then with that the line went dead. You swore, tossing your phone onto your desk falling back into your seat. 

Hands scratching your head, fingers twining furiously through your hair.  Eyes squeezed shut as you’re cursed once more before calling your boss and the rest of your team to alert them to this new development.

Another victim was found a few weeks later, a single stab wound to the chest right over the heart.  A Large Bowie knife was left in the body, with a swath of paper folded and held in place by the weapon.

You talked with witnesses and scribbled into your notes after consulting with another officer before turning on your heel to head back to the office. 

Knowing tonight you’d drink a pot of coffee and review how out of character this kill was from the previous victims. Was this even done by the same person? Did you have another murderer out there to watch out for? It made your head spin.

“Detective, I think you need to see this.” A cop named Thomas motioned you over to him holding out the piece of paper just removed from the victim.

You took the now unfolded paper from him eyes roving the page. A large red heart was drawn on it with blood. Whether it was the victims or someone else’s you couldn’t be sure, but that wasn’t the thing that worried you most.

Inside the heart was writing, scratchy red ballpoint pen spelling out in large letters, “Archer.”  A gift, a love letter, a taunt, you weren’t sure which one it was but it made your blood run cold. 

Hot water poured over your skin in the shower, hoping the scalding heat would strip away the knot in your stomach. Whenever you closed your eyes all you could see was the heart, teasing you.

The paper had been placed in an evidence bag and was now being tested but you couldn’t shake the visual from your head. Turning the water off and reveling in the steam before you wrapped a towel around yourself stepping into the bedroom.

All your scattered notes and random photographs littered your home desk and you were starting to feel pathetic at your lack of purchase on this slippery case. How many people needed to end up dead because you couldn’t do your fucking job?

Then the phone rang. A million thoughts ran through your head before you said fuck it and answered. 

“Hello?”

“Did you get my gift?” 

“You’re sick you know that?” You flipped on the tracer you’d installed on your phone after your last call. 

“Detective, I’m wounded. I gave you a lovely gesture of our relationship.”

“The only relationship we have is going to be when I arrest your ass and put you away for the rest of your life.” 

“I love when you flirt back with me.” 

You rubbed your brow absentmindedly, hating how limited you felt. How you felt like back in training being ridiculed by higher ups. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“I enjoy talking to you, Detective.”

“No. Killing people. Innocent people.”

“Who said they were innocent?”

“Who says you get to be judge, jury and executioner?”

If you stalled long enough it’d give your tracer a better chance of locking onto where the call was coming from. Giving you a shred of further evidence.

“You look very nice tonight.”

Your fist subconsciously gripped your towel tighter to your chest. The curtains in your apartment were drawn, and you had checked the lock over four times out of habit.

“How do you know how I look?” You wedged your phone into the crook of you neck, holding it in place as you reached into the end table pulling out your gun and checking the chamber was full.

“Are you close to catching me, Detective? Have I been occupying as much space in your mind as you do mine?”

You padded slowly down the hall, weapon held firm, pointing into each room as you passed. The heat from the bathroom emanated into the kitchen and you swiveled around the corner poised for an attack.

It never came. 

He was toying with you. He wasn’t here. 

“Why would I be in your head?”

You heard a thump back in your bedroom and the hair on the back of your neck stood up at the sound. The line was silent as you waited for a response, slowly inching back towards your room, gun held aloft.

The only sound you could hear was your own heart thundering in your chest as you eased into the doorway, ears straining to hear any other movement. In a rush if adrenaline you tossed the phone onto the bed throwing open the closet door.

It was empty. 

Keeping with your agitated pace, falling to the floor and checking under the bed only to see it bare as well. Angrily snatching the phone back and biting into the mouthpiece.

“Where the fuck are you?!” 

At that you heard footsteps back from the bathroom, thumping through your apartment and your front door being thrown open, the alarm blaring. 

Scrambling to catch up you stumbled into your living room and were greeted by the open door leading into the hallway of your apartment complex broken open, the chain lock busted and scraping back and forth as it hung limply.

The line went dead and you immediately dialed 911, waiting for a familiar operator to answer as you relayed your predicament. When you heard confirmation they were on the way you rushed back into the bathroom to grab your robe.

There on the mirror was drawn a heart, like that from the note found on the victim. The condensation beaded up as it bled in various water droplets from the remaining steam from the shower. 

The months continued on, all leads turning up nil. The tracer you had used only led you to a discarded burner phone in a trash bin by soho. The murders had briefly slowed down.

The phone calls however had not.

Their length and timing varied but it was always the same voice. Slightly skewed but a man’s voice all the same. It had helped you rule out a female suspect. 

The continued goading wasn’t the main thing grating on your nerves. No it would be much simpler if that was it. The true horror was how you began to wait for the calls. 

You refused to use the term, enjoy. But they no longer caused your blood to run cold in the same way. One day to your absolute dismay after a long stressful meeting you actually felt your shoulders unclench when your phone rang.

“Long day Archer?” 

“How can you ask me that when you’re the source of my stress?”

“Am I?”

Besides the phone calls there was the disturbing hints of affection. A bouquet had appeared at your desk at work one day. No note, but you didn’t need one to know who it was from.

Then a bottle of expensive wine was left on the steps of the precinct with another card bearing only a simplistically drawn heart inside.

The bottle was immediately taken in as evidence and dusted for prints. There obviously were none. No matter what you did he was always ten steps ahead. 5D chess in the most infuriating way. 

“How was the wine?”

“If you’re so aware of my every move you’d know I didn’t drink it.”

“Shame, 1913 was supposedly a good year for that merlot.”

“I’m growing tired of our Hannibal Lecter and Clarice dynamic.”

“Who says that’s what we are?”

“WE are nothing.”

A tsk’ing crackled over the line.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

“Then what are we?”

You put the phone on speaker as you pulled out a container of chinese food leftovers from your fridge. Popping the lid off and shoveling it into a bowl before sliding it into the microwave.

A chuckle came from the other end. You hated how it didn’t feel gross and malicious like it should. 

You continued on, mind listing a slew of options as you watched your food rotate in the microwave.

“Phantom and Christine. Michael Myers and Laurie strode. Billy Loomis and Sidney Prescott.”

“You never did tell me your favorite scary movie.”

you sighed dramatically as the oven dinged and you removed your food, returning it to the counter, pulling your hair into a messy bun.

“You do look stunning Detective. I’m shocked someone of your caliber went into law enforcement.”

“I think it’s unfair you know what I look like and yet Ive never seen you before.”

“Nice try Archer.” You couldn’t suppress the small laugh that shook your shoulders a tad. 

“It was worth a try.”

Walking into work the next morning you were immediately greeted by another detective, John Lawson. His cheeks were ruddy and he seemed to be out of breath.

“What’s going on?”

“We have a photo of our killer.” 

You felt your stomach flip, either from excitement or nerves.

“What?” 

He took out a printed sheet of paper, it showed a dim alleyway and a victim from the other night slumped in the background. 

Sure enough there in the foreground was a man, in a black hoodie, black pants and military boots. The hood pulled up over his head and underneath the hood a stark white mask, covered in a multitude of scratches and cracks that seemed to be painted on.

He was staring straight at the camera, knife glinting in one hand, the other raised in a mock wave.

“Smug bastard.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoongi

Lock Me Up | Found

He promised.

Tags/Warnings: Detective Agust D my friends, Criminal Kitty!Reader, hybrid Yoongi, mentions of violence, kidnapping, major angst, fluff?

Length: Drabble

There is no taglist for this fic

A/N: now stop trying to ruin their happiness thanks

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Where could you be?

Police forces are out looking for any trace of you- his home already having been checked as well as your usual spots you'd be at during the day. But there's nothing. You've vanished without a trace, and Yoongi doesn't even have a clue who could've taken you in the first place. There's really nothing to gain from you other than maybe money- but in that case, someone would need to know your value first, and the people you're connected to. No one just randomly kidnaps someone and hopes their family can pay what they want.

It doesn't make sense.

And the number you told him? He doesn't know if it's complete, or if you got interrupted. He's got no clue what you meant by it, doesn't know what he's supposed to do with it- but it must be important if you say it to him. You're smart- much smarter than one might think, and he personally believes you're not even aware of it yourself. The streets have taught you a lot of things that can keep you alive in a situation like this-

so he hopes you'll use that knowledge until he finds you.

He's walking down the street on the edge of town where a patrolling officer seems to be arguing with an elderly lady, her dog on a leash barking, especially when Yoongi walks closer. He tends to have an effect on animals- though one look from his eyes seems to shut the small dog up. He hasn't been wearing his covering contact lenses in a long time now-

he's embracing who he is these days, much of it thanks to you.

"What's going on here?" Yoongi asks, the patrolling officer sighs, as the lady interrupts him, giving him no chance to fill the detective in.

"That constant banging noise is what's wrong!" The lady whines. "Every day, every night, bang bang bang, it's driving me mad!" She complains.

"Where is it coming from?" Yoongi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He's got better things to worry about than a noise complaint from a pensioned post-menopausal woman in her late 50's.

"Apartment 265, right above mine!" She says. "I don't know what that guy is up to these days but he should really think about his neighbors-" She rants, and Yoongis eyes sharpen.

"Which apartment?" He presses suddenly, cutting her off- and even she seems startled about his reaction.

"..265?" She answers a lot more quietly now, and Yoongi draws his weapon at that.

"You, ask her about any information she has about whoever lives in that apartment. I want a name, I want a description, I want when he leaves the apartment and what fucking shoesize he wears if she knows it!" he barks at the young officer, before he dashes into the apartment complex, running the stairs instead of taking the elevator to be faster.

Of course.

"He sold catnip laced with other drugs and baking soda." You'd laughed, looking at him upside down as you lazed around on his bed while he washed the dishes. "He wasn't too happy I basically snitched on him and told everyone about it. He was pissed!" You had told him.

"Try not to make anymore enemies from now on though." Yoongi had sighed. "Someone's gonna kidnap you one day, I'm gonna have to shoot someone, and that's a shit-ton of paperwork." He's told you, joking mostly.

"But you'd come and save me, wouldn't you?" You'd teased-

and he'd smiled, simply nodded in confirmation.

"Promise?" You ask him, and he sighs, before he turns around to walk closer to you, kissing your upside-down face with a stoic expression- but eyes filled with love.

"Promise.

He doesn't even knock or anything, simply shoots the door to unlock it, before he enters with the by now familiar phrase announcing his presence to whoever might be inside the apartment. The first thing he notices is the stench of garbage and sweetness, before the tiny flies seem to attack him as he looks around the apartment, searching for anybody.

And there he is, a man dressed in dirty sweatpants and an equally soiled sleeveless shirt, looking at him with angry eyes. "Should've known you hybrid rats stick together." He grunts, as Yoongi points the weapon on him, multiple officers entering the apartment behind himself, making sure the surrounding area is under control.

"Where is she?" Yoongi wants to know, walking closer with the gun still drawn.

"What part of her would you like?" The man sickly jokes, and Yoongi doesn't waste a second to shoot right next to the guy into the stained couch, visibly startling him.

"The next is gonna land right between your legs and trust me-" The detective growls, "-My aim is great." he threatens.

"Detective Min!" Someone calls instead, and Yoongi's attention is taken away as he runs towards the room he's been called to.

And right there, in the bathtub, there's you- wide eyed and bruised- a thick and clumsily wrapped cloth around your thigh stained in what he assumes must be old blood, but you're alive.

You're alive.

The moment he bends down to get closer, something seems to happen within you, as you scramble up to reach him first, wrapping your entire body and every available limb around him, even your tail- and he's never held you so tightly than now, finally breathing again as your scent is all around him once more. "You're okay." He reassures you- or maybe more so himself.

"You found me." You whimper into his chest, frantically scenting him. "You came.!" You say, and he nods.

"Of course." He tells you, uncaring of anybody in this moment as he just runs his hand over your back.

"I promised, didn't I?"

[starleska]

stop all this wholesome >:( I wanna know your hcs on Dark!Wally. Explore how evil he is. What kinda horrible agenda he has goin on. Your choice if its still a x reader im just curious how you'd interpret it- ... Dont feel forced to do so btw feel free to ignore this if it aint yer cup of tea ToT

hahahaha, this gave me a great laugh!! you've caught me, anon - i am very much a fan of evil, devious, villainous, morally bereft and just plain dreadful characters. you'll see from my f/o tracker that i'm quite the bad guy connoisseur - i just haven't explored that with Wally yet because we know so little about what his agenda is!! it's Wally's ambiguity that makes him so fun to play with;;;

i'd love to fill this out with some potential theories, if you'll humour me 😉 gonna pop this under a spoiler tag as well just in case this speculation turns out correct, and for the warnings!!

content warnings for potential Welcome Home spoilers, scopophobia, stalking, murder, cannibalism, and cults:

Dark!Wally (or potentially, just Wally) Darling headcanons:

⭐ Wally is using us as food. ever since we found out about Wally eating with his eyes, i haven't been able to get this idea out of my head. everything from everyone looking up at the tracker on the website, to Wally watching us from the other side of the screen, has me wondering exactly why he loves us so much, and why he seems happy to engage with all of us pouring in to look at the site. i'm wondering if Wally is something of a psychic cannibal - someone who is able to devour essence through attention, particularly through eye contact. there is something he's getting from us interacting with him on the website, and i feel like his love is of the possessive variety...he needs us for something that we don't understand yet. ⭐ Wally 'fed' his neighbourhood friends to his Home, and is play-acting as if his friends are still alive by interacting with us. some eagle-eyed fans noticed recently that in one image, Wally's armchair has a stitched-on patch that looks suspiciously like Barnaby's skin. likewise, there's a very strange file name on one of the drawings Wally did on the Guestbook, in a comment talking about Eddie, where he says he 'runs too much'. we know that Home is alive, and that Wally talks to Home. we also don't know why Wally's house is the only one with apparent sentience. my question is...how is Home fuelled? and why is Wally the only one talking to us through the Guestbook if his puppet-self is alive - where is everyone else? my (very thin) speculation is that Wally may have sacrificed his friends to keep Home alive, but suffered a mental breakdown as a result, and wants to preserve their old life through the website as if nothing is wrong. ⭐ Wally is a vain attention hog who wants to be back in the spotlight. this one is bare-bones, but hear me out - this can go a couple of ways! if we choose to believe the Wally speaking from within the website is, somehow, a sentient puppet (or his consciousness is infused with the website), we could also believe that he may miss his apparently peaceful, love-filled life from another time. perhaps Wally was alive during the original run of Welcome Home, and somehow remained alive following its cancellation. perhaps he feels spurned now he's no longer the friendly neighbourhood host of the television show long-forgotten to the public...where better to try and gain a new audience than online, under the guise of a restoration project? we could even make a potential cult leader argument here... again, this is all pure speculation!! we have no idea at all what Wally's agenda is at this stage, and that's a good thing;; it's going to be loads of fun learning more about Wally and what his intentions are. i'd love to hear people's theories 😉

[prodbyblush]

heyy can i request nijiro hc of fem jpop idol reader? it's fine if you don't want too btw !!

ｎｏｗ ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ …

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

・❥・ requested

→ fem!reader

• will keep the relationship with you a secret and will only reveal it to the public after a year or two. • prior to revealing the relationship to the public, dates are mostly going over each other's apartment, going out with a group of friends and reserving a table at one of the private rooms of celebrity owned restaurant or bar. • home dates are just basically cooking dinner together, ordering take out, watching dramas or variety show programs, doing each other's skincare or just drinking coffee / hot chocolate while admiring the stars in the night sky. • but after going public, dates have finally become more free - shopping together, setting up a picnic near the river, going out for coffee in between busy schedules and such. • nijiro comes to your group's comeback concert / comeback showcase as an audience among the crowd. your fans / fandom will immediately recognize him, secretly taking pictures of him in his seat before gushing on social media how he's watching your event. • does he come empty handed? nope! after the concert / showcase, he'll enter the backstage with bouquets of flowers and a cake with a congratulatory message written with icing. • nijiro knows that some may be happy of him entering a relationship, he also knows that some wouldn't be happy with the idea of it. so he clearly explains to his fans that he draws the line between fans cheering for them and fans prying on their private lives. • always assures you that you are worth it despite the hate comments you receive online. his heart pains when he sees you cry over something that is beyond his control. nijiro can only do so much. • eventually leads him to asking his company to take legal action with the malicious comments attacking you online. he isn't doing this for himself, he's doing this for you. • if he can't attend to one of your schedules because of conflicting schedules, he'll send a food delivery to the studio you are in. so that not only you but your group members and crew are enjoying as well. • takes candid pictures of you - under your chin, you sleeping with your mouth slightly open, you frowning - and he makes memes out of those. • says he's helping your fans by giving them new memes to use! • if you're on tour and going a thousand miles away from him, facetime dates is gonna arise! even if you two aren't talking and are just watching what the other does, it's alright for him. • doesn't even mind if you've fallen asleep on him. he knows how much effort you put into rehearsals and he wishes you nothing but the best. • after returning home from the tour overseas, he dotes on you - tubs of ice cream, a bottle of wine and pain relief muscle patches. • when you do instagram lives with your group's official account, you can best believe that nijiro will be streaming, repeatedly tapping on the heart icon while sometimes spamming comments how pretty you look even though you're on your sweats and strands of hair are out of place. • being with you is like his getaway from his busy and fast paced life. • he lets himself be himself with you. he's not chishiya of alice in borderland or takahashi in hanalei bay or jintan in anohana, he's just nijiro, your nijiro. • each other's support system! • he's all smiles when your name is brought up in magazine interviews or when the hosts in the variety show program mention it. • a simp for you. case closed.

TAGS: @retrospacealien @chishiya-of-diamonds @ang3liclov3ly @kenqki @shadowheads-shitshow @lunoxxy @supercoffeeblogs @laylasbunbunny

[corn-fanfiction]

SAVIOUR COMPLEX (PT. 6)

(Pt. 5)

Rated: M

TAGS: language/past abuse/Mark Hoffman being a c*p/reader is normal and wants a normal life/Mark is protective bc it's his job but he's also problematic/because he's a c*p/Detective Gibson

**NOTE: Hey guys. Thank you so much for interaction with this fic, and I’m seeing a lot of new followers. I love that!! But I really need to stress right now how I do not support/endorse C*stas M*ndylor as a person or his opinions. He’s racist and I enjoy and only enjoy Mark Hoffman’s character. If you are a C*stas Stan, I highly encourage you to maybe cease interacting with this fic. **

Legs bouncing under the table. Hot coffee between your hands. Your makeup is smeared and not for any of the reasons you had hoped.

Ted is dead. The rhyme would be hilarious if you weren’t shitting bricks. You’ve been sitting in this interrogation room for 45 something minutes without a single word. Maybe they’re sweating you out. Can’t imagine why. You couldn’t talk if you wanted to without your nerves shooting up from your stomach.

You have no idea where Mark is. He had taken you back to the station with him but by the time you got there, someone was pulling you in for questioning. You couldn’t help but wonder if Mark’s in the same spot as you one room over.

Finally, finally, the door opens. A plain looking detective enters with a folder, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and takes a seat across from you.

“What time is it?” You ask weakly. He pauses like he wasn’t expecting you to talk first. He checks his watch.

“Uh, 2:37.”

You nod mutely and stare at the mirror over his shoulder.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you guys still do the one way mirror thing?” You nod to over his shoulder. “Everybody knows what it is because of the movies. So why bother?”

The detective just stares at you. You wonder if he’s stupid.

“You gonna tell me your name?”

He blinks, flips open the folder.

“I’m Detective Gibson. Sorry you had to wait so long.”

“Did you have more people to hassle?”

“That’s not fair. None of them were his ex.”

“But I still wasn’t top of the list?”

He digests your comment before chucking. “Alright, you got me. So we wanted you to sit for a little while.”

“A waste of your time and mine,” you mutter.

“Yeah, seems that you had a hot date with Detective Hoffman, is that right?”

“You gonna book me for conflict of interest?”

“Booking? Getting a little ahead of ourselves. I haven’t even had a chance to tell you what’s in the folder.”

“Nothing of substance.”

“No?”

“No, because there’s nothing there. Let’s just get this first bit out of the way. You don’t intimidate me. Am I here because you think I killed Ted? Is that it? You have a stack of 8 by 10 glossy photos of me with a black eye? How about a broken arm? And yet he never got booked for it.”

“Sounds like a motive.”

You chuckle humorlessly and bury your face in your hands.

“Uh-fucking-believable. Where’s Mark? You shaking him down, too?”

Gibson is quiet again, then shuffles the papers.

“Do you know where you were on July 9th?”

“Last Monday? Depends on the time. Probably work. If not work, home. Hey, you know who you could ask? The person you guys have had tracking my every move for two fucking weeks!”

He’s not smiling but you can tell the fucker is satisfied with your outburst.

“Admissible in court?” You scoff. “I don’t get it. That’s where I was. You don’t have a case. Let me go home so I can mourn and take off my makeup.”

He cocks his head. “Mourn?”

“He was a piece of shit but he was a human being, and I used to love him. I don’t care. No one deserves to die in one of those fucking monstrosities.”

“You draw a pretty clear line, morally.”

“Yes, it’s all a part of my master plan. Can I please go home?”

“Just a few more questions.” He pulls a specific photo. “Take a look at this for me.”

You look, and then grimace at the image. It’s Ted, his arms separated from his body, laying face down in a pool of blood and viscera.

“Jesus,” you groan. Tears start to pool at the corners of your eyes as you force your head over your shoulder.

“You barely looked.”

“I saw enough. Stop fucking with me. I told you all I know. I cut ties with him after his last stint. I don’t do anything. I’m a waitress. I don’t have friends, I don’t leave my apartment. I don’t do anything.” You realize halfway through your memorized spiel that you’re crying. “I don’t know why this shit is following me around but I don’t want it. Any of it. Please just let me go home.”

There’s silence as you shake and let the tears fall from your eyes.

You feel a hand come to yours and you jerk it away like it burned you, suddenly turning back to Gibson with a fury.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You hiss, backing up in your chair. Gibson raises his hands.

“Woah, okay, easy. Alright. I see no reason to keep you any longer. Come on.”

He replaces the papers in his folder and you both stand. You keep your distance but as he holds the door open you realize he’s going to make you pass him. You tense as you do so, feeling his scrutinous eyes on your back. You hate him, he’s an asshole, but you can’t get a read on him. Whatever. You’re exhausted. All you want to do is go home and sleep.

You stumble out of the interrogation room and into the main room of the station, heels in hand. The few people present are watching you. You only have eyes for the door at the end of the hall.

But then a hand is between your shoulder blades and you feel Mark’s heat next to you, smell his cologne. But he doesn’t follow you.

“What the fuck is your problem, Gibson!?”

You turn and Mark has Gibson's collar in a vice grip. Gibson shoves Mark’s hands from him and pushes his chest.

“I’m doing my job, Hoffman. Don’t forget, you’re a suspect too, and in danger of ‘reassignment’. Right?”

“You better keep your nose outta things before something happens to it.”

“Is that a threat?”

You grip Mark’s forearm and spin him around, digging your heels to peel him down the hall.

“Mark, come on, please. Please, let’s just go home. Please.”

Mark’s eyes land on you and they soften. You can’t even imagine what you must look like but you don’t care. You squeeze Mark’s arm.

He turns back to Gibson, straightens out his jacket, runs a hand through his hair, and then he’s walking you out of the station with his hand having returned to your back, content to let it remain there.

The trip back to your place is silent. You don’t even remember the last time you had your shoes on. You go straight for the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it. Take off your makeup. Brush out your hair. Stare at yourself in the mirror until your reflection becomes blurry and your knuckles are white as you grip grooves into the sink.

You pee, peel off your panty hose, strip down to your underwear.

Hoffman is leaning against the wall outside the door and he does a very good job hiding his reaction at your bare skin. You sigh anyway.

“Sorry- I wasn’t even thinking…”

“No, don’t worry about it. Come on. You need water?”

You nod and drag your feet to your bedroom. Distantly you can make out the sound of your sink in the kitchen. You manage to take off your bra- some scanty thing you’d picked out for Mark, and slip on a band tee. Mark returns to your side. He’s removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves. He has a guiding hand taking you to your bed and you run your hands along his thick forearms.

“Alright, come on,” Mark half warns/half suggests you under your covers. If you were any more cognizant, you’d hate the way he’s walking you around like a child. But child or not, you need comfort.

He tries to turn away but you grab his wrist.

“Please, don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone.”

Mark sighs. “I don’t think…”

“No, not that. Just lay down with me, please. Or sit. Just please don’t leave me.”

Mark leaves your vision and you don’t turn your attention from the window that scared you shitless last week. Then you feel the bed dip at your back. Feel Mark’s strong arms slip across your stomach and rubbing circles into your shoulder.

You turn in to face his chest. Fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. Inhale the smell of him. You run your fingers along his jaw and press your nose to his. He doesn't move; in fact, his breathing has all but stopped.

You press wet lips to his but he doesn’t return. Just presses his lips together until you pull away.

“Not right now, sweetheart. Trust me, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

But he does kiss you on the forehead and you settle for curling into him and let his presence send you into sleep.

[tacky-optic]

Had a question about who our favorite Zenigata partner is in a server I'm in and now I can't stop thinking about them. Tis the zaza sickness.

anyway here's literally all of the characters Zenigata's been partnered with that i could find (within reason). if anyone wants to elaborate on any of these guys (cough yata cough) please feel free to go absolutely ham. *(obligatory spoiler warning for a whole lotta lupin specials, waow-- notably zenigata keibu since that's probably the most unwatched of everything i cover. but if youre here im guessing youre as unfortunately well-versed as i am so LETS FRIGGIN GET INTO IT)

Starting off nice n' mellow. I'm pretty neutral on Yata, tbh. I just think he's neat and it's easy enough to write him and not much else. I've rambled about him being a stand-in for the viewer before, but overall i just don't have all that many thoughts on the guy (seriously someone please do yata). ironic considering he's hands-down the most prevalent sidekick to date, but alas. head remains empty.

MARIYA. Mariya my girlie oh how i love thee. finally, someone with a Gimmick on par with Mr. my-sword-can-cut-anything. Plus she's super sweet and smart and sharp and just an all-around endearing character. AND SHE'S DIFFERENT!! she's tagging along with Zenigata of her OWN FREE WILL like gurl what are you THINKING. there isn't a shred of coherent interview material to draw from this man, especially about Lupin. The dynamic they end up developing is on point, though!! Zenigata's initial total miscall of it aside, It's just plain ol' wholesome. If Yata's his surrogate son than Mariya's obviously his daughter. No shot in hell they don't at least keep in contact after the special's done. plus her snapping a pic of him every time he eats shit is peak comedy journalism

MOTHAFUCKIN' MELON COP!! an absolutely magical reefer-smokin' shitbag, especially in the edgy Tokyopop translation. He's a great foil to our otherwise serious(ly neurotic) manga Zenigata. Not to mention the combative potential with a down the line Melon.... ough. A more toned-down "newer part"-esque Zeni getting slapped with an extremely smug and insistent reminder of his angstlord past is such a delicious concept to me. i will be using this guy extensively in that exact way one of these days-- he's too fun not to.

a bit of a sidenote but i've gotta point fingers at gray jacket again (can't recommend it enough) for having my favorite melon depiction in fic; walther recently had him show up in their fic secondhand vanity as well (which i also can't recommend enough), so needless to say i think he has some fun potential.

Sakuraba and Kunikida from the live-action show get honorable mentions, obviously. They're both so different yet learn so much from Zenigata all the same. As far as reacting to the inspector goes, they're the ideal Yatas (again i am so so sorry yata-- surely someone will do you justice). Even though they aren't technically "new" to the force they're new to the Zenigata Shenanigans, and that is where the entertainment factor is. Sakuraba's the traditionalist keibu method-doubter whereas Kunikida's this mousey blue around the gills fella, and over their respective case file appearances, they both gain faith in/learn confidence from Zenigata, respectively. It really is a great bit of development to watch play out.

I'm gonna count The Guys™️ as a collective group/formless mass with maybe one of the Guyest of Guys as Zenigata's right hand Guy, like that one dude in Cagliostro. Apparently the name he's given in one of the dubs is Sam?? That's neat. Sam's neat. for anyone interested in some homework, here's the link to the highly informative lupin forum thread i found that out from: [x]

But yeah the Guys! Right from the start, Zenigata having this army of inexplicably and absurdly loyal cops was always a fun trope and i love to see 'em whenever they show up. I had this idea ages ago for this fake documentary-style miniseries based around them-- all the usual Lupin nonsense goes on in the background while we get a peek at the typically unseen shenanigans happening on the law-bearing side. Getting assigned to the lupin taskforce is probably seen as some kind of punishment, but that just makes the camaraderie all the more tight-knit. There'd be some behind-the-scenes Zenigata/how he interacts with them, what they get up to on their own whack case assignments when they're in a Lupin sighting lull.... hell maybe we even learn why they're all so damn loyal to this one supposedly hyper-independent guy. I think it'd be fun but maybe that's just the Zenigata hopeful in me. Surely he's capable of building some semblance of rapport with the fine group of folks he drags around the world with him....

Let's just rip the band-aid off-- I dislike Oscar with a burning passion. which is weird, right? because i like Melon Cop, the dude who's totally cool with straight-up cold-blooded judge/jury/executioner-style murder. I dunno dude the obsessive daddy kink simping's just too feckin' weird for me. i checked the hell out so fast. If the goal was to make Oscar extremely disquieting, they friggin' did it. Granted he was written to be a bit whack from the start, and getting raised(?)/mentored by THAT Zenigata would irreversibly mess anyone up. I get that the fucked up-ness is part of the appeal, but man. How anyone can gravitate towards Oscar without heavily modifying his whole deal escapes me.

I've seen him written tolerably in fic maybe... twice? He's in gray jacket (there it is again!) and SMRO (needs no introduction nor explanation), so obligatory kudos to anyone who can wrangle [gestures vaguely at all of that].

Vicky though. Vicky Flannigan from Island of Assassins is so goddamn funny. Still can't believe they took one of the most badass Zenigata character designs and actively went out of their way to make him bedridden. I've seen folks call him "Proto-Yata" and. Yeah. Can't argue. He's a glorified babysitter, if anything, and the only reason he's even remotely effective is because he (accidentally) broke both of Zenigata's legs. Funniest shit istg

ICPO LADIES!!! They're cute. Designs could be better but it's Babylon yknow. Despite being an admittedly fun romp, the special has its obvious.... uh. issues. product of its time and all that. iykyk. anyway LADIES. They're competent. They take No Shit from Zenigata. The random little crush that comes out of nowhere between Chinjao and Goemon is cute as hell. Plus, I've seen some pretty rockin' fandom redesigns floating around.... wouldn't mind in the slightest if they made a comeback.

I'm gonna lump all of the Betrayers into one category: Emily O'Brien from Angel Tactics, Kazami from Fuma Conspiracy, and Terry Crown from Alcatraz Connection. Never expected the "Zenigata's partner is the bad guy!!1" trope would be so prevalent, but it tracks in retrospect. It's a neat enough idea-- bummer they never seemed to nail it down, though.

The only reason O'Brien is so predictable is because she's so goddamn unlikable. There's hardly any screentime of them working together and in every single scene, the incompetency just feels so blatantly intentional its almost offensive lmao. Zero surprise in the slightest when she showed her true colors-- just mild annoyance, which tracks for the whole special tbh. Only worthwhile parts are the beginning and the end, and absolutely none of that has anything to to with O'Brien.

Kazami just has that chump secondary villain face y'know. Again, a bit on the nose how obnoxiously dorkish he is-- but them playing up him putting on his glasses so Fujiko can recognize him got a little laugh outta me, ngl. He served his purpose, plain and simple.

I'll never know whether Crown was predictable or not because I stumbled across ""Evil Columbo"" before I watched Alcatraz, but despite the spoiler I can at least say he isn't lame as shit. Pre-reveal, he's probably the closest we'll get to a taste of what Melon might be like in modern Lupin media. He's your run-of-the-mill corrupt sleazebag detective-- steals evidence, generally doesn't give a fuck, takes cheap jabs at Zenigata-- but their final standoff is what puts him above Kazami for me. Just a real melodramatic overdramatic moment of Zenigata Zenigata-ing his heart out.

Welcome to the ELDERLY MEN CATEGORY, OORAH. The old guy from Twilight Gemini, Kogoro Akechi from the pilot, and George McFly from First Contact. I could track down Gemini old guy's name, but I hand-to-god couldn't care less. The only worth a damn thing Gemini's given me is that one jigzeni screenshot, so we're just gonna move on to the next two.

Not much of Akechi, huh. He only shows up in the pilot and doesn't do anything of note besides be someone for Lupin to disguise himself as. Dare i say Goemon was a more effective ally to Zenigata than Akechi...? yeah sure, why not. Goemon's a zeni sidekick. i'll die on that hill. anyway I believe he's also a reference to a pre-existing character...? like Lupin, Goemon, and Zenigata are. All in all its probably for the best that he didn't make it to part 1.

Finally, the only old guy that actually has aspects to talk about. I actually really like McFly and the role he plays in First Contact; it isn't Zenigata learning from whoever his partner may be, but McFly learning from Zenigata. He's a jaded, on-the-verge-of-retirement type that thinks he's seen all the force has to offer, but here comes this young (is he considered "young" in this?? early, maybe) freak-ass foreigner cop with a vendetta he's practically frothing at the mouth to rectify. Neither of them are exactly enthused to be working together, but McFly sticks around anyway and learns to see past a lot of Zenigata's first impression baggage; the tenacity, the passion, the genuineness of it all. Not only does he want to make real change, but the crazy bastard can actually friggin' do it. ...Or at the very least make a sizable dent.

Zenigata sincerely adheres to the idea of what a cop's supposed to be, fundamentally, and not what a "cop" actually is, as a vague collective occupational concept. Zenigata has a genuine effect on McFly-- enough to make him just the slightest bit less soured by the end of it all. It's a nice sentiment; that no matter where you are in life, ideas can still change. It's a small arc that flies beneath the radar of everything else, but i noticed it. I FRIGGIN' NOTICED IT, MAN

tl;dr Zenigata's a lonely guy, sure, but he doesn't have to be.

That should cover all of the significant parts/specials/movies, but if i missed anyone (any notable episodes? manga?) lemme know. Either way, it's nice finally having 'em all in one place.

[alittledoseofchaos]

Marvelous Miracles (Please Disregard the Ghosts)

Pt. 2

Prev. Next,

this crossover includes Miraculous, DC, Marvel, and DP. I'm not gonna list each individual crossover in the tags (I list Maribat and dp×dc because I know those can be difficult to block sometimes and it makes it easier for this fic to blocked). If you don't like these, the title (exactly) is a tag so this fic can be blocked that way too.

Alfred Pennyworth, despite what most people claim, does not know everything. He knows Bruce Wayne is Batman, his son, and a father. He knows he would give his life for his grandchildren. He knows that the world needs people like his family, even if he doesn't always like it. He knows that something in Paris, France is bad enough for Master Bruce's old friend Jared to suggest that one Marinette Dupain-Cheng move to Gotham of all places, but he can't for the life of him understand what it is.

His family is incredibly paranoid wary at heart, and for good reason too, so it comes as no shock that they began investigating the girl's life. What is surprising is that they can't find a single reason for Jared's concern. School reports show cases of bullying and victim blaming being ignored, which is mildly concerning, but not the life threatening problems Jared has promised them. Thorough research finds that her parents are busy, but hardworking and loving parents. In fact, after learning who the girl's parents were, Alfred messaged an old friend of his. Unfortunately, Gina Dupain, grandmother of the girl in question, provided more questions than answers when she mentioned something about evil butterflies. Everyone they talk to sounds just as mad with terror as the last.

Master Bruce, never one to leave a child in danger when he uses that brain of his, agreed to host the girl. His family is still at work trying to figure out the girl's backstory as he picks the dear up from the airport. He's early, and not as young as he used to be, so he waits for her in the plain van. He sat watching the camera feeds as the plane lands and begins unloading. His curiosity grows as miss Dupain-Cheng comes to a sudden halt as her foot lands in the building. From what he could tell, there is nothing around that would cause this abrupt stop, yet she is still standing there, frozen with one foot in the building. Displeasure crosses his aged face as someone behind the girl pushes her forward. She starts walking again, but her movements are stiffer than before.

Her blue-grey eyes shine with unease and dart between all the exits warily. Alfred climbs out of the car, intent on getting her out of there as soon as possible. He grabs a sign with 'Felicity Garcia' written on it, the agreed upon name that hopefully wouldn't draw anyone's attention. His brows furrow with determination.

Alfred Pennyworth does not know everything, but he knows that he'll do right by this girl.

🐞🦇👻🕷🐞🦇👻🕷🐞🦇👻🕷🐞🦇👻🕷🐞🦇

Marinette Dupain-Cheng knows many things. She knows that she would risk everything for her friends. She knows that she'll never get to be a normal girl with a normal life until Hawkmoth is taken down. She knows that something is wrong and that nobody has noticed. She knows that something is there, in the corner of her eye. She knows that someone is watching her. She knows there are many mutterings, but nobody is talking. She knows that Gotham is Crime Capital of the US, but this? This was something much darker. Something she is sorry to have seen, because now she is going to have to do something about it.

She feels another shiver dance down her spine and thanks the kwami that she wore such a thick grey sweater. She pushes aside thoughts of sinister intentions and scans the almost empty building. She hums lightly as she spots a sign with 'Felicity Garcia' written on it. The elderly man holding it is wearing a beige sweater and regular jeans, but something in her screams that he shouldn't be wearing anything other than a suit.

"HI! I'm Felicity Garcia! Are you here to pick me up?" She asks cheerfully. The gentleman's smokey grey eyes twinkle as he replies.

"Of course not, I'm much too frail for that." She smiles at the passcode. As they walk towards the doors, someone behind them spills their coffee. She turns to the woman that is now drenched in coffee. Without hesitation Marinette rushes over. She pulls out napkins and an anti-stain stick. She offers them up to the woman freely. Distrust fills the woman's eyes as she takes the offered objects. The woman nods in thank you as she walks away.

Marinette stares at the space where the woman had stood for a long while before she moves again. As she heads to the van, pity and determination mixes into a jumbled mess inside of her.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng knows many things, like how she is going to do anything to help these people in a place too dark.

Next

[jils-things]

nobody asked but here's how jaide got pipino 🥚

it was at that point where jaide, red and blue all reunited in alola and they're getting accustomed to each other again (mostly red to both of them since jaide and blue had been consistently catching up with each other already). redjaide is still in the platonic stages, with red slowly relieving his puppy crush on her years ago (but of course he's not gonna fuckin say anything yet LMAOOO).

anyways - one day in alola, blue just so happen to be mostly out of the scene when red and jaide, who were drinking together in the small cafe inside the pokecenter - noticed a lost egg covered in a blanket, left in a lounge couch alone.

worried, jaide would try to look if the egg had an owner of its own but nobody in the center seemed to have noticed. she insists on keeping the egg to find the owner before it hatches - and she lets red tag along with her to find the owner.

now red usually isn't one to ask others but he would try to help jaide ask people if they seen or had recently lost an egg by simply tapping on their shoulder and quietly asking if they know anything about this missing baby. though jaide was a lot more enthusiastic about it, making quick chit chat and asking them about it. their approaches were different, but they got the job done.

sadly they struggled to really find the owner, so she'd bring the egg at her hotel and talk to blue and red on what they'd do with... the thang.... she filled blue in and explained what happened. blue insists to just keep looking because the fact it was wrapped in a blanket meant that someone was trying to watch over it. so jaide continued to try to ask around, but not beyond the island at least.

eventually they do find the owner, it belonged to a little girl who wanted to keep an egg to grow up with her but she forgotten to pick up her egg after leaving the pokecenter for whatever reason. jaide would happily give it to her, until the egg would hatch on the spot - it was a togepi.

the togepi, held in jaide's hands - would immediately assume that jaide was its parental figure and quickly become attached to her - and well, togepi had already developed a bond/comfort since jaide had been actively carrying the egg for quite some time.

the pokedex also mentions that the first thing it sees and assumes when it hatches is the parent (or maternal figure in this case)

the togepi would lovingly lunge at jaide's chest, yearning for her familiar warmth. this wasn't supposed to happen! she would frantically swears that it's not her pokemon, but togepi clung on to her like a child to its mom. red would be surprised at this revelation, mostly because he himself wasn't too well-versed in hatching baby pokemon since he's been with the same team as kid. somehow, togepi would also recognize red, maybe not all too well like jaide, but it has felt his warmth a few times to have it ingrained in its mind! it would chirp happily at red, but he wouldn't understand what that meant.

the little girl can't help but notice... a nice connection between the three. she giggles and tells jaide that she can keep the pokemon. she'd argue that she's still not ready yet, and one example of her not being ready was her neglecting the egg in public. I mean, a child raising a baby is no easy task as well, so maybe these two were a better fit. they were trainers after all...

jaide felt a little guilty, but she can't help but admit the way togepi stares at her keeps drawing her in. she promises to take good care of togepi and they depart from there. jaide would also gift the girl an ultra ball just to show her thanks, and maybe someday the little girl can catch her own pokemon as well.

with that exchange, both parties depart.

blue, who had been watching this all at the back would jokingly congratulate jaide for being a mom, to which she elbows him, giggling. he would ask about what she'd name togepi. she would awkwardly confess that she had been coming up with silly names while they were on that little mission.

"pipino sounds cute. i'm keeping that."

blue would give a weird glare by how quickly she came up with a name but then again - that's jaide for him. same girl as ever to him.

togepi, even in jaide's arms would sometimes glance at red and chirp with an adorable wave, and he'd ... awkwardly tip his hat and wave at it too.

not only would her alola trip be fruitful with alolan pokemon data, but she found herself a new friend to bring along with her.

[robynrocksforbrains]

AU concept:

If anyone wants to use this as inspiration for drawing, a comic, a fic, literally anything, feel free to. Take creative liberty wherever you want, but tag me so I can see it because I'm insane about it :)

It's a platonic madwheeler speedster AU. Set in the DCU.

Lots of madwheeler siblingism, Mike is an idiot and Max is an instigator. They get their powers because Mike is doing something stupid involving electricity and Max is enabling him at the time of the particle accelerator explosion. Because they're at the same place at the same time, they end up being affected in the same way, and therefore both become speedsters.

So here's the general stuff:

Max is Zoomer (kind of a given) (not to be confused with Zoom), her suit is red with green accents, her lightning is white

Mike is Zipper (Zip for short) (credit to @piper-yipee for the name), his suit is blue with yellow accents, his lightning is green (yes this is entirely for byler reasons)

(I know that lightning colors have different causes in DC canon, but for this AU that is not the case, I'm just choosing lighting colors based on what I want. Cope.)

Zipper and Zoomer I mean COME ON IT'S PERFECT

Established lumax

Slow burn byler because I said so

Once they discover they have powers they go a little crazy about it and Mike immediately wants to be a superhero while Max tries to stay levelheaded about it and reason with Mike that he doesn't know the first thing about being a superhero. Mike ultimately concedes that he doesn't know the first thing about being a superhero and he shouldn't just jump into something like that.

Something happens, whether it be an accident or a crime doesn't really matter, but Mike and Max are there when it happens. Even though they decided that neither of them were gonna jump into anything, they can't stand by and let people get hurt when they know they could do something about it. So they save the day.

After that they decide that they wanna use their powers for good but that they need to be smart about it

They decide to tell Dustin about their powers. He's a super smart science guy and he makes suits for them and has the time of his life learning about the speed force

They decide that they are NOT telling Lucas and Will (they're gonna find out eventually though)

Other stuff:

Will, El, and Lucas are also metahumans, but their powers manifest at a later date.

Will: dimensional awareness (like Vibe), erebokinesis (the power to generate or manipulate darkness or shadows), heliokinesis (the power to bend and control sunlight)

El: I don't have a specific preference, but anything similar to her canon powers would be interesting

Lucas: I also don't have a specific preference for him, I just think there's not nearly enough superhero Lucas content and I need more. Maybe vibrokinesis?

Willel siblings obviously

Once Will learns about Mike and Max's superhero activities, he insists on helping Dustin design better suits for them, because although they may be functional they could look so much better and Will is an artist so

The superhero squad is called The Party because obviously

That's all I got for now, I think, I'll probably edit this post as I think of more stuff. HOWEVER! I do know how Will learns about his powers and Mike being Zipper. This is heavily based on how Cisco discovers his powers in CWs The Flash.

So, Will ends up being in the wrong place at the wrong time while Zip and Zoomer are fighting some villain. Mike isn't fast enough and he isn't able to save him, Will dies. (They're very much in love at this point but neither of them has confessed). Mike obviously loses it. He's holding Will in his arms and the only thing running through his mind is some theory Dustin had about the speed force and time travel. He doesn't even think about it he just starts running. He ends up two days in the past and manages to prevent Will's death. He intends to take this to his grave, no one knows. Not even Max or Dustin. But then Will starts having flashbacks to the timeline where he died. He keeps reliving his death, and every time he sees Zipper, mask off, so really he sees Mike, begging him to just hold on. And maybe even telling Will that he loves him. And Will feels like he's going crazy. One day he can't take it anymore and he tells Mike about it, and Mike ends up coming clean about everything because he's tired of lying to Will. Will doesn't really know how to feel about it, he tells Mike he needs some space to process it. He's not mad at Mike, he's just really confused and overwhelmed and he feels slightly betrayed because Mike kept his whole superhero life from him for as long as he did. Obviously they work things out in the end and Will joins the superhero squad.

That's all for now folks

[redjaybird]

JAY’S RP PLOTTING CHEAT-SHEET

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name(s): Yams Mun pronouns: She/her/they/them, but also don't mind whatever OOC Contact: DMs or D.isco (mutuals/people I vibe with only ask for my d.isco)

Who the heck are my muses anyway:

He's a little shit that causes problems and pisses people off for the heck of it. A bit of an edgelord (is that an understatement?), rude, vulgar, and extremely tough to crack if you want him in friendlier stages. Good luck. He's not going to make it easy for you.

Points of interest:

He has various verses, some things may change depending on what verse things are in. Details in his design are important and have stories behind them. In his main verses, he has extra strengthened abilities and a little extra chaotic surprise, sometimes. He has a lot of anger issues and is really shit at dealing with other emotions, often turning them into anger, too, because he doesn't know how else to handle things. He likes to think of himself as a villain, but really he's more like an anti-hero. And he's got a whole revenge case he's trying to deal out. He's got some emotional issues that he refuses to talk about, and others he will just spill because he likes to talk about himself. And he's got trust issues.

What they’ve been up to recently:

Well, this varies for people and verses. Things won't be following the same paths for everyone he interacts with. In in his main f.c5 verse, he somehow got himself in a position where he's gotta help protect the Seeds, because of the relationship he ended up in with Jacob. Everything in the B.L verses kinda got put on hold, but these days its after his Arena fell. A vampire verse, in the f.c5 land, has been distressing him. Bloody City (original) verse is getting more developments lately (yeehaw). Depends on what version you wanna deal with, really.

Where to find them:

In general modern times, usually Chicago. In the borderlands, usually Pandora. In F.C3, on Rook Islands, hanging with the pirates. In F.C5, Hope County, usually in Jacob's region. Frontier, the pirate is in Montreal in the company of Mr. Grant and Mr. Pond.

Current plans:

Plans? What are plans? We'll have to see what unfolds. Anything could happen.

Desired interactions:

Enemies to awkward found family member, enemies/rivals, slow burns of any kind of relationship (because its almost always a slow burn with him), helping him learn to cook maybe? (his whole fear of stoves and fire issue man), dad bird dad bird dad bird dad bird (has an accidentally adopted daughter in some verses btw), etc.

Offered interactions:

Uh, do you like problematic little shits? Do you like conflict? Stories are boring without conflict, after all. And it makes the good times so much more worth it, you know? If you for some reason want him to work with you, however, the price is gonna be a little different. Because he doesn't care about money.

Current open post/s:

Keep an eye out for random IC posts, they happen a lot, and are generally open to anyone if they don't have a tag. (I don't always tag ic posts but I do always tag any trigger warnings when I think they need it.) Some will have specific verse tags, sometimes, just so you know where things will be focused on but yeah, generally most things are open unless someone specifically gets @'d on.

Anything else?:

[I'm not super great at writing, and am especially bad at describing things in words, but Jay will make up for a lot in dialogue because he loves talking. Interactions can inspire art, lots of drawing going on here. Also things never stop developing. I've been running this character for 12+ years now and I'm still developing him.]

Tagging: whoev's wants to do this thing go for it, i tried

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Ocean View

Fandom: Superfam, Batfam, DC Comics

Summary: A pair of shoes, a fragmented memory, and a collection of newspaper clippings.

An empty box of cigarettes, a second phone, and a beach house with locked rooms.

Chapters: 10/?

Characters: Laney Kent, Jason Todd, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Chris Kent, Tim Drake

Relationship(s): JayLaney, Clois

Additional Tags: No Powers AU, No Capes AU, Secret Identity, Social Media, Romance, Angst

Chapter Ten: Hooked

Uncle Jimmy stopped by my desk as soon as I got in and planted his hands on my desk. I looked up from my notepad and pushed it aside. "Who is he?" he asked. "Huh?" I whispered. He sat down across from me. "I go out of town for a few weeks, and you come home and get a boyfriend? You're dating, you've got a new place, you're drawing little hearts on sticky notes... Who are you?" Uncle Jimmy teased. I smiled and shook my head. Uncle Jimmy always knew how to make me laugh. Even when things got bad, he was the only one who could joke with me and make me feel like a normal person. He was the perfect person to confess my big secret to. "Okay. So, this is completely confidential until Kit's party, but... Remember the guy I hooked up with last year that left his shoes in my apartment?" I asked. "You said you couldn't remember his name," Uncle Jimmy replied. "I couldn't... But I ran into him again two months ago, and we've been dating ever since," I replied, "This is the confidential part... He's—." I lowered my voice. "He's Jason Todd-Wayne." "Your mom is gonna kill you, you know that?" Uncle Jimmy whispered. "How did you two even connect?"

"My mom's not gonna be mad at me... And well, I don't remember. You don't think she's gonna be upset, though?" I whispered.

"Upset about what?" Mom asked, and I jumped. "Did you do something?" "No, um... We were talking about Kit's party," Uncle Jimmy half-lied before leaving me to fend for myself. Mom took his seat and looked me in the eyes. "You seem different today, and it's not just because I haven't seen you in over a week. You look happy," Mom noted. I nodded. "Good. But you definitely have something on your mind." "Mom, if you didn't approve of the guy I'm with, would you hate me for it?" I asked. She shook her head. "Laney, I could never hate you... Besides, you're an adult. As long as you're not hurting yourself and he's not hurting you, I'm happy for you," Mom whispered. She messed up my hair. "Why do you ask?" "Because I'm in love with him, Mom," I whispered. She lit up, and my phone vibrated. "Sorry, this is-. One second, Mom... Hi." "Hey, I was thinking... maybe we shouldn't drop this on your family at Chris's party. I don't know if you'd be more comfortable-. Sorry, are you busy?" "No, I'm not busy. I just got in... Are you asking to meet me here for lunch?" I questioned. "Yeah, if that's okay. I just-. I don't want to mess up your brother's day, just in case they have a bad reaction to the two of us together," Jason explained. He was right. I wasn't thinking. "Laney?" "Sure. Sorry if I sound weird, I just-. I can't wait to see you," I replied. I didn't want to say too much in front of Mom. "Okay, cool. I love you. Bye," Jason whispered. "I love you too. Buh bye," I replied before hanging up. "Mom, try not to get upset today?" "I'm not going to be upset," Mom replied, "Are we meeting him finally?" "Yeah, actually... Well, no. You've met him already. This is more of a boyfriend reveal," I replied, "And no matter what, can you please try to remember that I've never been in love with anyone before? This is important to me." Mom nodded and patted my cheek. "Okay, okay. I'm just glad you're with someone that makes you happy," Mom reassured me. Dad stopped by our desks and set down three coffees. "Did I interrupt something?" Dad asked gently. Mom took a sip of her coffee and grabbed Dad's hand. "My boyfriend's coming to have lunch with us later. And he's someone you guys have met. I don't want anyone to get upset because I've never been in love, and he means a lot to me," I explained. Dad gestured for me to breathe, and I obeyed. "I'm excited that you're finally going to reveal this mystery man to us. Don't worry, Laney. Anyone that you feel this strongly about has to be a wonderful person... And it's nice to see you back on your feet," Dad brushed his knuckle against my chin. Thank fuck. I hoped that my parents would remember that when lunch rolled around. "Beach!" Snapper yelled. I grabbed my camera and gave Dad a kiss on the cheek. Mom went down to the beach with me, and I got my rainboots out of the trunk. "You still wear rain boots to the beach," Mom giggled. "You laugh now until it rains all over your feet in those little high heels," I teased, and she bumped into me playfully. I loved going on assignments with my mom. We always made fun of each other when we worked together. It was refreshing. Sometimes Dad and I were too serious with each other, but Mom got me. She always did. I wondered if she would understand why I loved Jason so much.