#and has been willingly continuing to put money towards.

[rainydayalchemy]

夕闇

Reader X Tengen Uzui

18+ MDNI

TW: Suggestions towards SA

Reader has been sold into the red light district, so heed with caution

Dusk.

The red glow of lanterns flicked to life. The sun was setting quickly, and with it, the energy was rising. Static crackled through the air. You always loathed the heavy weight of the nighttime. The night meant the street would be slick with sin and cruelty.

You would never get used to the feeling of being used. Experience after experience was quickly detrioating you. Other women and girls did this job with such bravery. You couldn't grasp the concept. No matter how hard you tried to swallow down the discomfort or shame, it always seemed to consume you.

Shallow giggles and flirtations echoed through the walls. You had to put on a brave face. Money was tighter than ever. It hadn't escaped you how the usual long line of men has dwindled in the past month. Everyone was struggling to get by.

A shaky breath left your red painted lips. It was time. Your skin was painted heavily. Dramatic flicks of red paint adorn your eyes. Your makeup was too beautiful to cry. The pricks of tears threatened to fall, and you shook your head.

The night was in full swing. The house you worked out of was overflowing. Each woman pulled close to a man. You smiled at the older customer seated beside you. He was a merchant who was deadset on talking until your ears bled. He rambled on and on about his so-called miserable wife and how he was glad to be away from her. That statement made your heart clench, that woman was caring for their children at this very moment. Most likely tucking them in for the night, and yet here he was, at such an establishment.

A sneer danced across your face. The man hardly noticed, still continuing to complain. Affairs were common in this line of work. It was something you turned a blind eye to. That never failed to make your stomach churn.

"Well, sweetheart." He breathed out. He stunk of sake and smoke.

"Yes...?" You offered him another smile, a sad attempt at stalling the next part.

"I suppose it's about time I took you in the back." His words dripped with suggestion.

You felt your stomach drop and the urge to vomit swirl inside of you. You gave him a brief nod, and he snatched your wrist. You were going willingly, and yet he used force. Tonight would be brutal. He yanked up and began to stomp down the hallway. No one spared a glance to you. No one would step in if he got too violent.

"Wait I-"

The words escaped you before you could stop them. Reluctance was heavily punished, and yet every piece of you fought to tear your arm away. He scoffed, his face twisted in offense. Your bones ached as he practically crushed your wrist. This was going to make it worse.

"How dare you whor-"

He never finished the insult. His words cut short by a hulking figure standing in between you two. Your eyes widened at the interruption. Your wrist was reddened but released nonetheless. The man standing with his back to you was adorned in strange clothing. He was enormous. His appearance was overwhelming in every aspect.

"It's best if you don't rough up the workers..."

His tone wasn't angry but held such authority it was unnerving. The customer scoffed once again. His face was an ugly expression of distaste.

"Whore isn't worth it anyway." He spit out venomously.

It was a true statement. There were hundreds of other workers, much more willing to please him. The customer only continued grumbling and stumbling out of the house and onto the next. Sighing in relief, you straightened your crumpled robes. Not a single person glanced your way, another reminder that anything could happen and no one would step in.

Except for him, of course. You bent at the waist. You stared at the ground, only able to have visibility of his trousers and footwear. He shifted his body and faced you finally. You finally rose from your bow and came face to face with him. He was awfully beautiful, and that sent a heat racing through your veins. His features were stunning and so absolute you felt your jaw drop bit in awe.

"T-thank you!" You exclaimed.

It was a bit louder than what you hoped. Oh god. You could already feel the flush rising on your chest. His only response was a quiet huff. It felt as if he was staring through you. Perhaps he took pity on you? That was possible. You figured it was only right to express graitude after he stepped in. A shudder racked through your body thinking about what tonight could've been. Yet, his response was lackluster.

"Come with me."

Huh? You barely had time to think before he was pulling you down the hallway. A shocked gasp left your lips. Had he only saved you for himself? Although his grip was much softer, it was still firm and comanding. You grit your teth, of course this would happen. Did you really expect a savior?This man was just like the others.

[azulsluver]

haiii!!! i’m new to ur blog but i’ve been frantically reading ur bully!au and omg…listen i don’t like bully!au’s in general bc they always get me so MAD!!1!1! like wdym ur falling in love w the same person that tormented you?!!! but in this case, hate reading your bully!au has me frothing at the mouth😭it’s so deliciously sick and aggravating to read and i’m getting annoyed just thinking about all the cruel and vile bullying shenanigans going on…LMFAO atp i’m teetering the edge of masochism💀so thumbs up for that bc i like ur works so far<3

but the more i think about it, despite everyone being such an asshat, i think the only people i could stand are silver and jack. they’re such bystanders so they’re not any better than the next person. but they’re not exactly going to lay their hands on you—err, not directly that is. they could stand there in the background and watch you get your ass ABSOLUTELY GET BEAT UP AND TORN INTO SHREDS but they’ll be there to pat your back and offer you a handkerchief, yk? from an outsider’s perspective, silver and jack are as much as part of the problem as any of them. they’re not actively helping you or stopping the others from laying their hands on you. but holy crap, imagine being in readers shoes for a minute. in some sick and twisted way, if i were the reader id CLING into silver and jack. i probably wouldn’t be able to think straight and not realise they’re not good, but after being hurt left and right i’d be picking up scraps like a stray dog. anything for a crumb of kindness. i see reader falling into their arms and believing that they (silver and jack) actually care about them, bc they don’t press on their bruises or make them cry. they provide reader a gentle hand for them to cry on to, hold them and caress them after a long day of pain.

just imagine, this very glaring and obvious favoritism from the reader towards silver and jack. i know the other boys would probably put a target on their backs, itching to snatch reader away from silver and jack. the others probably see that they’re manipulating or at the very least, being ingenious to the reader. in silvers case, i can see someone like sebek berating you about silver. yelling at you about how weak you are for falling into silvers facade. bc if silver actually gave a single crap, why would he let you continue to get hurt? isn’t it obvious, reader? he’s letting it happen so you can fall into his arms and he can use your pain to his advantage!!!!!1!1!1! at least sebek is being truthful about his feelings and isn’t putting up a front acting like he cares for you [sidebar: its a little tricky for silver. bc you see, it’s not like he doesn’t care but he just has an extreme case of a bystander complex. he’s not gonna do anything to stand in the way of you and the others, especially to malleus and lilia and suffer their consequences. but he’ll be there, at least. but to others that isn’t you, silver can come off as a slimy knight and shinning armor that uses his kindness to his advantage].

in jacks case, he’d get teased a ton from ruggie. ruggie would probably corner him and feel inclined enough willingly (without money) to interrogate jack. what’s with all this sudden closeness between jack and you, huh? you guys act like a lovely dovey couple. because one time leona had the misfortune on stumbling upon you in jacks arms and him holding you…ruggie had to deal with the short end of the stick afterwards. so now, it’s everyone’s problems (in reality, ruggie is also jealous…). this is where it’s a little different with silver. despite silver actually being sympathetic, even when it can come off unbelievable to others, jack…well. he does…a little? jack feels bad to an extent. but my gosh, sometimes when he sees you all beat up and weak and vulnerable, jack has to hold himself back from taking you right there. if he could ever, jack could be putty in your hands all the while wishing he had the power in him to keep you with him forcefully. whereas others think silver is ingenious about his feelings thinking he’s using reader, jack is exactly that.

in readers case though…since readers favoritism appears more and more blatant as time passes, they sure as hell will get their ass whopped 10x harder😮‍💨imagine being cornered by people like vil, leona, the twins, heck even kalim accusing you of all kinds of things. shaming you and calling you names. why are you getting particularly close with those two anyway? are you look for attention? are you that pathetic enough to go begging for scraps like a dog? or do you like them? perhaps…love them? either way, whatever you say (if you ever get the chance to defend yourself) they don’t care.

anyway, that’s just my thoughts🤤i might’ve made it a bit ooc but bully!au is a little tricky to grasp especially with some of the characters eccentric personalities.

AHHHH I LOVE THIS OMG!!?? THANK YOU FOR THE MEAL ANON GOING STRAIGHT TO THE LIST ^^

[jodithann827]

Pretty Woman 8/11

Rating: Explicit / posted on AO3 /tagging @today-in-fic

SocialPro Headquarters

Beverly Hills Office

Tuesday

9:02 am

Sitting behind his larger-than-life mahogany desk, Mulder fiddles with the small rectangular tickets in his hand. So many life-altering thoughts are swirling through this head. Visions of business ventures, Diana, Mr. Spender, and Scully. He’s beginning to see what Scully was saying about Spender. The old man had called the previous evening, pushing Mulder for an answer. Attempting to hold him off, Mulder informed him he would be away from the office for the day but promised to get back to him. The more Mulder thinks about it, the offer doesn’t sit right with him. He’s excited to get away, clear his head, and think about the decision with an open and carefree mind.

He puts tickets down gently and then quickly picks them back up, turning them over. A knock at the door startles him, bringing him out of his trance-like state. As the door opens, Mulder drops the tickets into his open desk drawer and casually looks up to meet Diana’s eyes.

“So what’s it going to be Fox? Are you willing to play ball with Mr. Spender?” she asks, dropping to a chair in his office.

“What’s his first name?” Mulder asks. Diana opens her mouth to begin to speak, then quickly closes it. Her face indicates that she’s searching her brain for an answer. In her silence, Mulder continues, “Don’t you think it’s odd that we don’t know his name? He doesn’t seem to play by any social rules, he doesn’t answer to anyone but himself, that we know of. I mean, who is this guy?”

“Who is this guy?” she repeats, not fully comprehending what Mulder is trying to imply. “He is a very rich man who wants to give you a truckload of money for his internet company. So what if you have to do some ‘behind-the-scenes activities for him. Fox, this deal is almost closed. Finish it already!” She looks at him and sees that he is not actively looking at her, but instead picking up and playing with rectangular papers.

Fox,” she snaps. “What is wrong with you? Your behavior has been outlandish,” she punctuates. His silence speaks volumes so she goes in for the kill. “Up late with the hooker?”

This gets Mulder’s attention and fire flashes across his eyes. Diana realizes she may have taken it a step too far and backtracks. “I just mean that clearly, this woman has you under some type of spell, the way you’ve been acting. I alluded to it yesterday.”

Mulder, doing his best to ignore her, hastily pushes back from the desk and stands.

“Spender is my business, Diana. And so is Dana. I’ll see you tomorrow, Diana.” He shifts to make his way toward the door but Diana quickly steps in front of him, blocking his way and not caring that she has moved completely past the realm of professionalism.

“It’s nine o’clock in the morning. Where are you headed?”

“I have a date,” he says, though he offers no additional information. He sidesteps her.

“A date?” she questions, doing little to hide how appalled she is. She turns, watching him head for the door. “You’re dating the hooker now?” He pauses as he reaches the office door and turns, eerily calm, then meets her confused eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Diana. I’ll be out of touch all day and evening,” he says, shutting her down and ending the conversation. With that he turns to leave, offering up no further explanation.

California Freeway

11:10 am

“You’re kidnapping me,” she informs him as they sit in comfortable silence in the limo with Langly driving through the streets of California. There’s no fear in her voice, only eagerness.

“Kidnapping would imply that I took you without your consent,” Mulder replies in that charming and self-assured way Scully has grown to like over the past few days. “You willingly got into the car.” They sit next to each other with one of Mulder’s hands draped across Scully’s knee, idly drawing a figure eight over and over. In the past twelve hours, he has been overcome with this great need to be touching her, feeling her presence. Her almost departure shook him deeply, something he struggles admitting to himself.

“That’s because there was a promise of a surprise,” Scully explains while fidgeting in her seat, unable to stay still. She’s excited in a schoolgirl-like way. It doesn’t help that at the start of the adventure, Mulder placed a blindfold over her eyes. Scully shivers, thinking about other things she could be doing with and to Mulder with the covering on her face.

“Still not kidnapping.”

“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?” she pouts, hoping he can hear the tone in her voice, not even knowing if he’s looking at her or not.

“Patience, Scully.”

She huffs, but on the inside she is jubilant. She can’t remember a time someone did something for her out of the goodness of their heart. Yes, on one hand, Mulder is paying her for the week. However, Scully can’t help but think that their actions over the past day or two, have gone beyond the arrangement. She’s never felt like this before. The butterflies flutter about in her stomach when she thinks of him. The emptiness in her heart when he isn’t with her. She breathes slowly, trying to rid herself of the lump she knows is forming in her throat. Pull it together, Dana. You only have today and tomorrow with him and then this is over, she thinks. That only makes the lump grow, so she tries another tactic. Dana, this man, this sweet, caring, sexy-as-hell man, is trying to give you the best day. Get out of your head for a while and try to enjoy it! Mission slightly accomplished, she sighs, leaning into Mulder ever so gently, relaxing to the feeling of his hand on her knee.

After what seems like an agonizingly long drive, the limo slows. Losing the warmth of Mulder as he quickly exits the car, Scully then feels his tight grip slip around her slim fingers. With a pull, she is out of the car, but her equilibrium is off due to the blindfold. Mulder steadies her, the cloth never slipping from its position. Feeling a tickle in her ear, she hears, “Wait here. Langly is behind you and won’t let anything happen to you. I need to take care of a quick thing and then I’ll be right back.” Before she can protest, she feels a breeze replacing the warmth where he just stood. Panic quickly sets in, yet she maintains a slow and calming breath, knowing Mulder would not leave her in a helpless situation.

“He needs to go check in,” Langly whispers from a foot or so behind her, sensing her hesitation and rising apprehensiveness.

“Where are were Langly?” she questions, knowing he won’t answer her.

“This is supposed to be fun, Scully; make sure to enjoy yourself,” is his only response before going mute again.

After what seems like eons, though she’s sure is less than five minutes, she senses Mulder’s presence back at her side. Grasping her hand, he leads her forward. They walk ever so slowly.

“You know, Mulder,” she starts, “You could take this off and we could get where you want to be faster.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Scully? This is probably the most excited I’ve been about a surprise in… hell in I don’t know how many years. It’s just as much for me as it is for you. Please don’t make me ruin it. I promise we’ll lose the blindfold in a few minutes.”

The genuineness in his voice doesn’t surprise her in the sense that he is tickled for her, but more so for the fact that he is exhilarated about it himself.

After a few more strides and a few more minutes, they come to a stop. Scully hears people, lots of people, but beyond that, she cannot fathom where they are.

Standing just behind her, Mulder unties the cloth and lets it fall from Scully’s vision.

Raising her hand to her mouth in utter disbelief, all she can muster is, “Oh my… Mulder…”

“I wish it was Cinderella’s, but Sleeping Beauty’s will have to do. We didn’t have time to make it to Florida,” is all he says, letting her take in the vision before her.

Spellbinding is the first word that comes to mind. Amazing. Magnificent. Completely unbelievable. Magical. The bricks are several shades of gray. The flags burst with gold emblems. The tower points are the most spectacular shade of blue. It’s an image she’s only seen in pictures and only perceived in her mind. She’s standing at the foot of Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Large crowds move about their day around them, but for Scully, time stands still. She is back in her childhood home with her family, healthy and happy. She’s on vacations, at dance recitals, and at school science fairs. She is in every wonderful memory she can summon from her childhood. Tears spring to her eyes as she whips around to finally face the man she is falling in love with, but can never have.

“You brought me to Disneyland.” It’s not a question. It’s barely a statement.

Mulder seems shy, almost bashful; he wasn’t sure how she would react and this is almost too much. So he states the obvious, “I brought you to Disneyland.”

Suddenly her arms are around him and she’s squeezing as if trying to convey how much this moment means to her through a hug. “I hope you like it,” he says into her hair, his arms running softly over her back. She pulls slightly back and arches an eyebrow.

“Like it? Mulder, no one has ever done anything remotely close to this in my entire life. I don’t even have the words to–”

“Then don’t say anything. Let’s just enjoy the day. We have plenty of time in the park, several shows to see, an amazing dinner planned, and then to top it off, we’re spending the night in the castle.”

Scully’s eyes widen, though she didn’t think they could get any bigger, “Mulder…”

“Come on, Scully,” he says, maneuvering his arm so Scully can link hers with his, “let’s go to Disneyland.”

She pauses briefly and turns to him. “Mulder, this is… well this is truly amazing; thank you. And if I forget to tell you, I had an amazing time today.”

He blushes again and smiles, then leads her to where the fun awaits.

Carthay Circle Restaurant

9:45 pm

Elation mixed with a feeling of fulfillment settles over her. Not just because she is stuffed with the most amazing food she has ever eaten, but full of joy, happiness, jubilation, and glee, just to name a few, due to the last ten hours and the company she kept. The day spent with Mulder in the park was one that even in her wildest dreams she never could have imagined. They had played—literally played—like children who were given a free pass to a glorious world of magic and imagination. She felt free. Not restricted to the life she was currently living. Not worrying about her family, her employment, and what she wanted to do with her life. She’s been thinking these last few days about her life: agonizing, contemplating, unable to believe she can go back to the boulevard with Missy. There is more to life and she is ready to explore it all.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Her eyes raise to meet his.

Still guarded, she replies, “This food, this day, this place. It’s—it’s almost too much.” Mulder reaches for her hand after placing his dessert fork on his plate.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You deserve it, Dana.”

Scully’s eyes widen at the mention of her first name, but she doesn’t speak, sensing he has more to say.

“You are a loving, warm, compassionate, and passionate person. You have much to offer. You have brains and beauty. You could do anything, Scully, be anything.” A single tear threatens to fall from her eye. He’s looking at her and truly seeing her, beyond the job. He understands her better than anyone has since she lost her father. Needing to do something with her hands, she lifts her champagne glass and sips.

“Thank you, Mulder.”

There’s a moment of silence between them, both taking in the day and the evening to come.

“Well,” he tosses his napkin on the table. “Another spin around the park? A stroll downtown?” He’s sliding his foot along Scully’s leg.

She stares at the man in front of her, his beautiful face and tender heart. She knows that she has fallen head over heels in love with him. Leaning forward so her face is inches away from his, in a sultry tone she whispers, “Take me to bed, Mulder.”

Sleeping Beauty’s Castle

10:20 pm

Thump.

Lifting Scully in his arms, he holds her tight against the suite door. He’s ravaging her neck as she’s scraping her nails along his back.

Their coupling over the last week has varied. Sometimes soft and delicate, sometimes quick and dirty. It would be a lie if Scully said she didn’t want it all tonight. She wants every variation, every angle, and all of Mulder. The feeling of his hands kneading her ass and his unmalleable erection presenting itself through his pants. He is without a doubt marking her neck, but at the moment she doesn’t care. All she cares about is becoming lost in the pleasure that is Fox Mulder. As if reading her thoughts, his hands dig deeper into her, wrapping around her back.

“Where–” she starts to ask, but he cuts her off.

“If I don’t get you into bed right now…” he stops short of finishing his sentence. She shivers, knowing in her head what will happen if he doesn’t get her into the bed, not that she would mind.

The room is magnificent. As beautiful as the castle was on the outside, the interior is even more so. Spacious and bright, there are several bedrooms, living spaces, and a massive kitchen. The master bedroom, however, is the most luxurious space she’s ever inhabited. All of this is second on her mind to what Mulder is currently doing to her.

Dropping her onto the high-top mattress with a slight bounce, Mulder pulls off his clothes first, discarding them on the floor at the end of the bed. Proceeding to rid her of her clothes, he stops and settles himself between her thighs so they are eye to eye.

“You make me feel more alive than ever before, Dana Scully.”

Before she can contemplate the consequences of her actions, she leans in and captures his lips. Only taken aback for a second, Mulder pushes into the kiss and mirrors her need. Kissing as though they’ve never been kissed before, or would be again, they devour each other's mouths equally. Tongues, lips, and teeth. Biting, sucking, and pulling. The need for air is a minor detail that they are willing to overlook. Scully is pretty sure that she could cum any second with how turned on she is. Rules and consequences be damned, she pulls his lower lip into her mouth, hoover-like, which elicits a moan from deep in Mulder’s throat.

Scully pauses, releasing him. Mulder takes the opportunity to speak, though it’s choppy due to his breathing. “I don't think I’ll last too long, Scully.” He presses kisses to her lips in between words. Now that they have kissed, he can’t stop.

“Make love to me, Mulder,” she whispers. He obliges.

[albertfinch]

THE GOD OF RESTORATION

"I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the crawling locust, the consuming locust, and the chewing locust, my great army which I sent among you" (Joel 2:25).

Since we serve a God of restoration, we might ask the question: "What can God restore?" The answer is that God can restore everything that has been lost; nothing is impossible with Him (see Luke 1:37). Whatever has been lost in your life, whatever has been stolen, and whatever has been taken from you, God is able to restore it. Not only that, but whatever you have willingly given up for God can be restored too.

And Jesus  promises, "Everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or lands, for My name's sake, shall receive a hundredfold, and inherit eternal life" (Matthew 19:29). In other words, what we give up, God gives back.

What have you sacrificed?  Have you given up money or time? What has been taken from you – your health, your joy, your marriage, or your business? 

BELIEVE THAT GOD IS ABOUT TO RESTORE WHAT THE ENEMY HAS TAKEN FROM YOU:

How wonderful it is to cling to God's promises and know that He restores strength, energy, passion, and motivation, even in old age. The women said to Naomi toward the end of her life, after she had lost her husband and her sons: "And may [God] be to you a restorer of life and a nourisher of your old age" (Ruth 4:15).

God can restore your flesh: "Then God said, “Put your hand back inside your cloak.” So he put his hand back inside his cloak, and when he took it out, behold, it was restored like the rest of his flesh." (Exodus 4:7).

If you have lost property, then know that God is able to restore that as well: "So David said to him, 'Do not fear, for I will surely show you kindness for Jonathan your father's sake, and will restore to you all the land of Saul your grandfather; and you shall eat bread at my table continually'" (2 Samuel 9:7).

Positions can be restored too: "Then he restored the chief butler to his butlership again, and he placed the cup in Pharaoh's hand" (Genesis 40:21).

Our God of mercy, compassion, and love can restore those who fall: "Brethren, if a man is overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness, considering yourself lest you also be tempted" (Galatians 6:1). So, not only does God restore our lives, but He then uses us to bring restoration to others. To say it another way, Paul said, "[He] comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God" (2 Corinthians 1:4).

If our health has been taken away, then know that God is the One who restores our health. He said through Jeremiah, "'For I will restore health to you and heal you of your wounds,' says the Lord" (Jeremiah 30:17).

Finances can also be restored as seen in Genesis 42:25: "Then Joseph gave a command to fill their sacks with grain, to restore every man's money to his sack, and to give them provisions for the journey."

God even promises to restore the damages that have taken place in our soul – our mind, will, and emotions – so that we can prosper once again: "He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake" (Psalm 23:3), and, "Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers" (3 John 1:2).

If we become discouraged, we must remember that God is the One who restores our joy: "Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, and uphold me by Your generous Spirit" (Psalm 51:12). The joy of the Lord is our strength – if we lose our joy, we lose our strength.

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY

[caruliaa]

getting soo bitter hearing abt tswift tour presale codes on the uk store bc ik i wont be able to go but i also know that its not impossible like if i somehoww move out before the tour than maybe but itll have to be late in the year for that and my only current plan is to maybe bye tickets and sell them online if i cant make it but it might be to expensive for that and also ik after moving im immediately going to like. iv neve had ANY genuine independance before you think i have enough of a hold on myself to go to a fucking concert idk idk but i WANNA GO I WANNA GO SO FUCKING BADLY YOU HAVE NO IDEA IV NEVER EVEN BEEN TO A CONCERT OR ANYTHING HALFWAY CLOSE BEFORE BC IV BEEN SO CONTROLLED MY WHOLE LIFE AND I JUST HAD TO BE STUPID ENOUGH TO HAVE MY FAVE MUSICIAN BE ONE OF THE MOST POPULAR EVER AND GETTING TICKETS FOR HER WILL BE IMPOSSIBLE AND IL LBE BEATEN OUT BY PEOPLE WHOVE SEEN HER LIKE 10 TIMES ALREADY AND THEN WONT EVEN BE ABLE TO GO BECAUSE ILL PROB STILL BE STUCK LIVING WITH MY PARENTS BY THEIR RULES FOREVER OR i;; BARLEY HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO EAT EACH WEEK LET ALONE GO OUT AND SEE A CONCERT OMFG !!!!!

[inklore]

Bodyguard namor would be a menace. Imagine thinking you got away from him and he's just standing in the corner watching you act like a brat. He gives you ultimatums too 😩 sure I can let you cum but didn't you want to sneak out to that party later? Don't want you to be tired when I drag you back🏃🏿‍♀️

pairing: bodyguard!namor x (f)reader

word count: 863

warnings: eighteen+ content, a little bit of hunter x prey kink, spanking, threats, brat taming, manhandling.

note: ok but this has me bashing my head off the wall because ldshfdkf he'd be so fucking tortuous about it, like he'll make you believe you actually stand a chance against him but when he catches you he's going to ruin you!!

“I’ll make a deal with you. If I can’t catch you before you get to the front door, then you can go to your little party. But if I do catch you, then you get two punishments.”

His words sing in the adrenaline fueled cloud in your head as your hammering heart echoes in your eardrums, as you tiptoe through the dark hallway—a smart tactic on his part, if not a little bit of cheating, to turn all the lights out after he gave you your head start.

And for the only time in your life you’re wishing your parents bought a smaller house. Did you really need all this space?

The door looks miles away in the hallway leading up to the foyer. Has it always been this long? Were you really this out of breath already and you’ve barely even sprinted?

You swallow in attempts to mask your heavy breathing, to restrict your breath to not give yourself away, hard and shallow. A futile effort on your behalf when it only seems to make you breathe harder, faster; or maybe that was the adrenaline high at the fear of getting caught pumping through your veins—and something else. Something unwarranted and wanting at the thought of Namor catching you, and what actions were to come of his threat.

You’d never lie to yourself and pretend that a part of you wanted to get caught. To put his words to the test. To keep this little game of you being a brat and him trying to control you, to hold power over you that you just laughed at—but touched yourself to when you were alone at night.

But you would be damned if you gave him the satisfaction of knowing that. Of willingly admitting to him that each scowl or grunt of disapproval was only threatening your restraint to slip into dangerous territory of you letting him put his hands on you, in a more pleasing manner; a beg for him to teach you a lesson after being a brat, or to take out his obvious annoyance with you on another part of your body, the part that was soaked and wanting for him.

You can’t hear him, let alone see him, in the overly quiet of the dark.

You try to hold your breath, still the heavy heaves of your chest. Try to listen to any sign of footsteps or bumps of his shoe against an unsuspected piece of furniture. But there’s nothing.

Nothing but the ringing in your ears from your heart brushing itself against your ribcage.

Fuck it.

You were going to that party.

You didn’t spend your money on this dress, and hours in front of your mirror, to not show up just because Namor found it some crock-of-shit threat level. Fuck him. You were going.

So as carefully as you can, while continuing to hold your breath, you slip off your heels. Try to remember all those breathing techniques you’ve seen Namor do when you—not so subtly—spy on him during his gym sessions. Doing the barest of stretches, and then you’re sprinting towards the door. Dropping the tip-toed-run behind, not caring if you sound like a linebacker coming down the field. The adrenaline in your veins turns to excitement when you’re inches—centimeters—from the door.

You're going to make it.

You’re basically there.

One more leap and–

The wrap of a warm bicep is around your midsection just as your fingertips are reaching out for the handle. It all plays out in slow motion as the solid chest behind you presses to your back, and drags you to the other side of the room. Manhandling your thrashing body like it’s nothing as you’re pressed against the wall.

Caged in like an animal.

Torn from bittersweet victory—freedom.

“Oh, you were so close.”

“Fuck you. Let me go.” You huff, your attempts to reach back and connect your elbow with muscle only making you more exasperated.

“You lost. It hurts not getting your way doesn’t it?” His lips brush the back of your ear as he speaks, his hot breath a light pant. Sending shivers down your arched spine. “Tell me, which punishment do you want first?”

The rough touch of his palm sliding over the globe of your ass cheek to hike up your dress and expose your flesh—and the skimpy thong you had imagined benefiting you in a much different way tonight—to him; seizing your body’s motor functions. The adrenaline in your veins burns into molten lava that has you heated and whimpery.

The light slap his cupped palm gives to your cheek makes you grind against him involuntarily, “I can put you over my knee, or I can give you the proper fuck you need to understand who’s in charge.” Your tongue heavy and dry in your throat doesn’t allow you to speak. An incoherent noise at the back of your throat all you can dredge up—this is insane, he shouldn’t be touching you like this, nor should you be shaking with how badly you want whatever he’s about to give you.

“If I choose for you you’re not going to be able to sit properly for days.”

[infernalodie]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 || 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

“𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯' 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳“

Inspo: Drake - Losses

Pairing: Cassie Howard x Black!Male!reader

Summary: When you had nothing, you had Cassie. She’d been there since you two were just kids. But people grow apart and evolve, but you never thought Cassie would so willingly end things between you two.

(gif used is not mine)

Warnings: Angst

Words 1231

When you had nothing, you had Cassie Howard.

Everyone knew this as you were by her side since Pre-school. Accompanying her at each party she went to and verified if a guy was good enough for her. But most of the time, she just went behind your back to go fuck a few dudes. And when pictures and videos of her were leaked to every student in East Highland, you were at her house comforting her and promising to help bury them in the past.

And she was there for you when your parent's belligerence extended towards you. Their abusive behaviour’s shaping every step they took, which led to destruction. But Cassie was there. Putting up with the smallest of things like a household smelling like smoke and cigarette stains clinging to the decor, making it unsafe to touch anything in your house. When no one was there to understand your situation, Cassie was there to hold you and listen to what you had to say.

It’s always been hard for you to accept the fact that you only had one friend. With a kid who’s lived in poverty all his life, you expected to make some friends on your block. Stay out late on the street corner making money how everyone else in your neighbourhood has. But no matter how much you tried, you were only left with Cassie. And it wasn’t like you didn’t appreciate her because you did. She’s been there in your darkest times, and there has been a real bond created between the both of you. But people needed to reach out farther and go into situations they weren’t comfortable being.

That had been basketball as you quickly rose through the roster with skill. Making it to the starting lineup with pure ease. Perhaps balling with kids on your block toughened you up quite a bit. But you showed true potential, and you could see it. A real chance to make something of yourself and get the hell out of the hell hole you called your home. And Cassie was there to support you and help in any way you sought fit.

You got a sponsor after Cassie posted a viral video of you having a 63-point game. Highlights being posted on many verified accounts on Instagram and even having some of your highlights on ESPN. It was a dream that came true and a wave of popularity at Highland you didn’t wish to entertain. Sticking with the blonde that had been there for you since you were just 3-years-old.

Years went on, you found more friends, you continued playing basketball, you won East Highland a championship and you were getting offers from across the country. With the money you earned from your sponsor, you got yourself an apartment across Highland to get away from your parents. But something was missing and that was Cassie.

Things were strange nowadays. You didn’t see her as often as you used to. If anything, she was avoiding you and after years of knowing which classes you would be taking, she knew which hallways to go down to avoid you. It’d been since McKay’s New Year’s Eve party that this weird started forming in your stomach. Stirring each time you saw her and watched her avoid interacting with you. Something was changing and you weren’t sure what could be responsible.

After years of being by one another’s side, you expected her to maybe reach out. That was something you expected, but you hadn’t expected her to stay under your wing whilst hiding the fact that she had any correlation with you. Asking for money when she saw a nice Birkin bag, but never stated that it was you who bought it for her.

If you’d known any better, you may have kept your money to yourself. Kept the ones who seemed to genuinely care for who you were as a person a lot closer. Maybe you should’ve cut things off with Cassie ahead of time when you started to see the signs of something going on with her.

But the least you expected was to get a text from Lexi, pleading you to come over to her house as soon as possible. And you did, cutting off your workout early and driving across town to Howard’s house. You wish you could be more presentable with your purple durag, wife beater, and basketball shorts being all you could wear. But you arrived just in time to see Maddy rushing out of the house in tears with Kat on her tail.

You frowned, getting out of your car and walking up the path leading to the wide-open front door. As soon as you stepped inside, you sensed an odd form of tension in the air. Glancing around and hearing the faintest sound of crying.

“She’s been hooking up with Nate.” Lexi’s sudden presence and the statement had you flinching. Glancing over at her from the living room towards the stairs. You’ve had your troubles with Nate ever since grade school. Dealing with his not-so-subtle racist comments whenever you beat him in a sport. It got so bad that you made Cassie promise that she would never associate herself with him.

“How long?” You asked in a quiet voice.

Lexi pursed her lips. “Since New Year’s.”

All you could offer was a quiet hum before you started making your way up the stairs. Entering the shared bedroom belonging to Lexi and Cassie. Proceeding towards the bathroom where you could hear the quiet sobs on the other side of the door. With gentleness, leaned against the door, sitting on the floor with a sigh.

The lanyard of your car keys was taken between your fingers. Keys jingling together enabling Cassie to glance at the door, sniffle and wipe her face before she seated herself against the door. “Y/n?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “it’s me.”

With your presence being now known, Cassie felt herself relax, to an extent. Only because now, she had to face the fact that you now understood why she hadn’t been around much.

Clearing your throat, you rested your head against the door. “I think tonight we should just be honest with each other,” you announced. “I know aren’t happy anymore being around me and I can understand that.”

Cassie felt a new wave of tears as she covered her face, but you continued. “I lost you way back and I know I kept you from guys who may have wanted your heart,” you acknowledged. “But I kept you with me because I wanted you to have a bright future ahead of you. I mean, you have double the followers on your Instagram than everyone combined. But when I thought I brought you up with me, you were still at the bottom and that’s where you’ll stay.”

You stood to your feet, hand pressing to the door. “I just don’t know how you could even like being there and call it normal,” you said. “But if that’s where you feel like you belong, then so be it. But I’ll always love you, Cassie. And whenever you need me, you know where to find me.”

And Cassie was left speechless, listening to your muffled footsteps before the door clicked shut. Losses were natural to life, but losing someone who has never wanted anything else but for you to succeed hurts the most.

[familyagrestefanblog]

Theory for “Gabriel Agreste”

Saying that I'm EXCITED for this episode is an understatement, I'm THRILLED! So let me give you my speculation for what could happen in it and how it’ll affect the future, because pieces are literally just falling into place in my brain and I just have to write this down.

The episode is called" Gabriel agreste" because in this episode Gabriel will create a (long time) Sentimonster for himself that'll take his place and cover for him in his civilian life while he himself gets completely swallowed by his Hawkmoth/ShadowMoth identity (which is a direct paralell to the fate Marinette just escaped by telling Alya her secret). He doesn't want to "waste" anymore unnecessary time by having to NOT be Hawkmoth, which then completely separates him from Adrien who very much was one of the last (if not THE LAST at this point) few strings that kept him grounded in his humanity.

The episode takes place right before the middle of the season and since it's season 4 we are talking about here its fair to assume that both Adrien and Gabriel are back at (at least) suspecting each other to be Chat Noir and Hawkmoth again at some point. Adrien is going to be even more rebellious after the status quo break and set up of "Lies" so him maybe (or maybe even confirmed already to Gabriel) to be Chat Noir could definitely be the factor that sets Gabriel over the edge, rips these two apart for good (as I foresaw in my analysis of "Jackady") and brings Gabriel to distance himself altogether while covering his own identity from his son by creating a Sentimonster (bc Adriens secret being discovered by his evil family is already forshadowed to hell and back, just like him ending up getting Homeschooled again this season, mark my words)

---

"Queen Banana" is supposed to take place right before "Gabriel Agreste" and we have a leak where it's seen that Adrien is now kinda taking on Nathalies role since she is (supposedly) still bed ridden.

Seriously, just humour me here and stay with me. This would mean that Adrien would get to see and interact with his father much more often and Gabriel wouldn't be able to ditch everything and turn into Hawkmoth as easily as he was able to with Nathalie.

A cover up Sentimonster was actually already kinda forshadowed in "Party Crasher"

by introducing HoloGabe with the intention of providing Gabriel with alibis and to attend meetings etc for him in the future so Gabriel can invest more time into being Hawkmoth. But a Hologramm is not suitable for every occasion, which is where the Sentimonster comes into play.

At first Adrien wouldn't notice much off about his father and the few things he notices Adrien actually doesnt mind. If SentiGabe is really supposed to replace Gabriel as... Well, Gabriel, that also means as a FATHER and my money is on SentiGabe being created to be a better father than the original. SentiGabe does everything Adrien wanted his father to do in s1-s3: Join Adrien at dinner time, spend more time with him, is in general in better of a mood and not such an unpleasant dick and so on and so on.

Easy to say, Adrien basically welcomes the good change he always wanted in his "Father" with open arms and chooses to ignore things that seem suspicious and the always remaining gut feeling of something just being... off. This will collide with the unveiling of more of the family (+ Emilie) mystery which will for Adrien all continue to point at Gabriel as Hawkmoth because of one event that is likely to happen in episode 4.

I'm currently writing on yet another post about this topic in particular, so I will link it HERE for elaboration once I post it, but in short, I think Rena Rouge and the Grimoire secrets Marinette shears with Alya could be the catalyst of Adrien suspecting his father to be Hawkmoth again.

Adriens memories of the time he went through the Grimoire himself in "Volpina" would be triggered again after seing the Grimoire page Rena (honestly, quite recklessly) brings along into battle and from then on things will slowly pile up until Gabriel deflects from himself with SentiGabe in "Gabriel Agreste" (just like he did in “The Collector”)

People WAY to easily forget how ready and serious Adrien was in "The Collector" when he actually concidered his father to be Hawkmoth.

Keep in mind that Ladybug was only able to tell Chat Noir the weakest reasons of her suspicion against Gabriel (while the Grimoire being Guardian property was NEVER found out by Adrien... til NOW) that being Gabriels mysterious personality and the butterfly logo of his brand.

These arguments are weak because they are ONLY actually suspicious in the specific context of Gabriel being Hawkmoth. Once you have proof against that they hardly hold any ground anymore, hence why both Adrien AND Marinette so easily brushed off these points after seeing Gabriel akumatized. I mean, excuse a designer for choosing a BUTTERFLY as his logo when his last name is literally the name of a butterfly type. The fuck kind of accusation is that??

So I hope you understand that when I say that, yes, these reasons DID trigger further memories/realizations for Adrien in that moment

It simply was only the tip of the iceberg.

The fact that Adrien not only gave Ladybug the fucking benefit of a doubt and heared her out about accusing his FATHER of being HAWKMOTH and took it THAT seriously and wanted to find out if his father truly IS Hawkmoth means that Adrien very much sees his father as capable of being Paris villain Nr 1. This... understanding and acceptance of Gabriels nature already had to be in Adrien much prior to "the collector" to set it off like this. And while normally Adrien chooses to turn a blind eye towards his fathers bad qualities in favor of seeing Gabriels redeeming (and even the rare somewhat GOOD) qualities, Adrien only does so because he thinks Gabriel hasn't crossed the line yet that makes his father undeserving of these loving conciderations. But Gabriel being Hawkmoth IS CROSSING that line for Adrien and he immediately sets aside his remaining/choosen love for his heavily flawed father and willingly sees Gabriel for what he is.

Adrien already did it once with only a few somewhat solid reasons and the Grimoire being kept secret from him altogether,

So he will do it again, just this time the proofs and developments are supposed to stay for good.

---

This development would not only be forshadowed by "the collector"

But also by the episode "Ladybug". There Mayura used a Sentimonster version of Ladybug against Chat Noir, using their love against him. What she didn't know though was that Ladybug actually isn't in love with her partner (yet) which ended up with Chat Noir being put in the situation of having to decide which Ladybug he believes to be real.

Does he believe and hold onto Sentibug who returns the love he so desperately seeks in life or does he let go of his hopeful wish and accept the heartbreaking reality of once again not receiving his love in return from yet another person he holds so dear?

In "Ladybug" Adrien couldn't make that crushing decision yet (and don't clown in the replies about this, not only was the situation vastly different it's also a cruel thing to ask of Adrien) but as we are used from Miraculous by now, that episode was only the set up for future events.

What Adrien couldn't let himself believe about Ladybug and Sentibug he will have to FORCE himself to accept about his Father and Hawkmoth. Same set-up of the Sentimonster symbolising Adriens desperate and hopeful WISH what his loved one were vs the crushing, heart wrenching reality of what his loved ones actually ARE. Just that letting go of his wish for Ladybugs love didnt seem "necessary enough" for the mission to succeed so he just couldn't MAKE himself give her up whereas accepting and seeing that his father is Hawkmoth is going to be one of the most crucial sacrifices of the show, changing the game forever. So as horrible, cruel and soul shattering as this is, putting an end to his fathers villainous reign for the sake of the greater good is a reason worthy enough to force himself through his pain.Which brings us once again back to “The collector” (which seriously forshadows almost everything I love that episode), because there is ONE major aspect that episodes sets up like crazy

And that is:

And thats where we are heading now.

This entire time Adrien wanted his Father to behave more fatherly, spend more time with him and improve his explosive behavior but he always got disappointed over and over again. So how heartbreaking would it be if over the course of the second half of the season THIS would be the very reason why Adrien gets behind Gabriels secret? Because SentiGabe behaved too fatherly for Adrien to truly buy it in his heart and when forced to decide what he actually believes his father to be - like the fatherly Sentimonster or the villainous Hawkmoth - Adrien has to and WILL recognize and accept his fathers true nature and turn against him, as it has been set up for a LONG time now.

This season shit’s about to go DOWN!

[xsamsharons]

there's a light - k. brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader.

genre/warning: a slight mention of a scar but fluff!

words: 1.2k.

summary: ketterdam was said to be the darkest of places. however, in your opinion, it's just a matter of knowing where to find the light.

Ketterdam was a strange place to call home. The never-ending sound of gunshots, the smell that came from the streets and the amount of people willing to do almost anything for money, all served as reasons to explain why the city wasn’t for everyone. However, if you are lucky enough, you’ll find something or someone in the city that reminds you not everything is darkness.

“I really don’t get what your obsession with sitting on windows is.” you heard a voice say from behind you, a voice you didn’t have to turn around to know who it belonged to.

“Yet you always seem to join me when i come here.” you replied, as you felt his body move to the opposite side of the window you were sitting on.

It was raining, so that meant the city got a break from the action for a night and the streets looked deserted for once. Every street corner told a story, and while the dim glow of the moonlight has tried not to shine on it and the water that comes with the rain has tried to wash it all away, you could still see it if you looked hard enough. You could see it on the pavement- every forgotten newspaper, every drop of dried blood and every broken cobblestone. You could see it on the walls that framed the thin corridors and you could see it in the wind as it blew through the city and took every disregarded memory with it. Most importantly, you could see it from above. The height gave you the opportunity to see every roof in which two lovers shared a last goodbye- hidden from their enemies, you could see every balcony door that was closed in hopes of keeping the rain out of their home. And if someone were to look up at that very moment, they would see two people using meaningless words to fill the room, while they danced around the truth and hid the depth of their feelings.

“Well, it is my room after all, you know?” he asked, with a slight raise of his brow while meeting your gaze.

“It’s the tallest one.” you shrugged. As you turned your eyes away from him to look out the window, you could feel his still on you, making your cheeks grow hot. Was it from embarrassment? Were you flustered? Or were you simply too tired? You preferred not to know. He noticed, despite your efforts to hide it with a small smile and a cheeky comment. “You know, a painting would last longer.”

“Could say the same about the city below us.” He challenged. “How was it you put it once? Paintings don’t tell stories as well as once sight?” he continued and you smiled, glad to know he remembers the things you tell him.

“And which stories would a painting of my face not be telling?” you asked, as you turned to face him with an amused smile on your lips.

“Well, for one, the scar you got on your first job as a member of the crew- above your eye but half hidden just below your eyebrow. The uneven lengths of different strands of your hair because you let nina cut it one too many times. That one mole that is so far up your forehead, it gets hidden by your hairline unless you tug your hair backwards. The little scratches on your hands because you refuse to give up trying to learn how to flip knives.” He listed as you held your breath, eyes wide at the possibility of finally admitting to each other what you’ve both known for a long time. “All these little stories wouldn’t show up on a painting, knowing them is a result of observing someone for minutes on end, everyday, until you feel like you’ve only been put on this earth to admire them.”

“And you do?” you asked, watching as he walked closer to your spot on the window, leaving his corner. All while keeping his eyes on you. “Observe and admire me, i mean.”

“I do.” He nodded.

“Because i’m a member of your crew and you need to keep an eye on all of us? You once said staring at everyone on the ranks had become second nature.” You tried, noticing how close the two of you were now that he had stopped walking towards you. You saw the corner of his lips quirk to the side, which was the closest you got to a smile with Kaz Brekker.

“But i didn’t say stare, did i?” he asked “What did i say?”

“Observe.”

“And?”

“And admire.” you finished with a whisper, struggling to meet his gaze.

“You think I observe and admire Matthias?” he continued, the same amusing quirk of his lips on his face. And you would’ve laughed, you truly would’ve, if everything racing through your mind at that moment hadn’t been how close he’d gotten, and how much you liked having him near. Instead, the noise that came out of you mouth sounded more like a huff of air.

“Why do you stare at me, then? If it’s not something you do with every one of us?” You asked.

Say it, you thought, say it aloud for only us and the deserted city below us to hear.

“You know why.” he answered. And you did, god, did you know. You knew why because you did the same, because you felt the same.

And somehow, hearing him say that, so much closer to you than he’d willingly gotten to anyone in such a long time. Hearing him say that as the sound of the rain served as your own makeshift background noise. Hearing him say that as he stared at you with so much intensity you swore you could read every thought in his mind just through his eyes. Somehow, hearing him say that: right here, right now- it was enough.

You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, trying to say everything you couldn’t with words, with your eyes. The glow of the candle that was still lit beside you illuminated his face like it was the only place it was ever meant to shine on, and as your eyes moved from his own to explore his face you realized what he meant: every curve, every line, every scar on his face told a story that not even the greatest painter in the world could attempt to replicate. Your eyes continued travelling across his face as his stayed on your eyes, and when your gaze finally reached his lips, you felt him tense up.

“I-i can’t” he uttered in a tone that could only be described as ashamed, as if he was sorry he couldn’t offer that to you, but you weren’t expecting him to. You weren’t dumb, you could see his aversion to touch ran deeper than just wearing gloves when he was around people.

“I know.” you whispered, shifting your gaze back up to his eyes. “And I don't expect you to. Not now, and not ever if you’re not ready.” you continued. “We have time, and i’m not planning on going anywhere any time soon.”

“Neither am i.” He replied, and in his eyes you could see the relief he felt after what you said.

As you turned your gaze back to the city, you felt his eyes still on you- observing and admiring you, except this time you were aware. And when a slow breeze blew the candle that had been sitting next to you out, you found that every single light in Ketterdam could go out, and Kaz would still find a way of continuing to observe your face- and so would you.

a/n: first time writing kaz so i'm sorry if he's a little ooc. anw my inbox is open if any of you have any soc requests (any character)!

[poptod]

Cyber Security (Elliot Alderson)

Description: An online ad leads him to you, though in reality he has little interest in your ad. What interests him is how you accidentally doxxed yourself and how oblivious you are to that fact.

Notes: idrk what to say about this one its one of those things that i wrote at midnight after almost falling asleep to a fantasy and then realizing it could work as a fic. like i did this same thing with ‘close your eyes’ that one was also a before-bed-to-get-to-sleep fantasy. this is also not a particularly romantic interaction, though it can be read as such WC: 2.2k

+

Sweat drenched his sheets, bathing him in the cold wind that breezed past his only air conditioner lodged in a nearby window. He stared blankly upwards, half shivering and half overheated, as he once again found himself in a familiar predicament—the practice of sleep.

It was no secret he had trouble calming himself down, and that aspect of himself reached into the evening, as well. He already downed three melatonin pills hours earlier, along with smoking a joint that should’ve put him to bed. Unsurprisingly, that did not work.

“Xanax,” he mumbled to himself, hearing it bounce back from empty walls. “Need to get xanax.”

In the meantime he raised himself to his feet, padding across freezing floors to his computer. With a click of a button the white screen buzzed to life, shining bright onto his sleep-heavy eyes, that did their best to acclimatize to the sudden change.

Hypnotization—strange as it might’ve been—had worked a couple times before. Not all the time, but decently enough to give it a try. He had work in the morning and he didn’t need to be more miserable than usual, especially since he hadn’t slept almost the entire weekend.

sleep hypnosis

The blinker flickered for a moment before his fourth finger slammed down on enter, the last step in calculated movements. What popped up first was a video titled [ SLEEP HYPNOSIS ] 8 Hour Loop with a screencap of a spinning black and white screen. Below that, however, was something he hadn’t seen before—a YouTube video titled exactly what he’d typed, lacking the caps just as he had. The title screen appeared to be some sort of poorly-drawn painting.

Curiosity overcame his hazy, aching head, and he clicked, finding a playlist of videos containing what could be the titles of songs, along with several different poorly-drawn title screens.

The first video began to play before he could realize it. What he first noticed was it was bereft of ads—that meant the publisher made no money off the album.

Sat in the presence of God

whose name means filthy old fraud

Captions had been manually added by, he assumed, you. The author. There were three views on the video, no comments, and no likes, leaving few other options.

Maybe it was the melody—maybe the lyrics, who talked of a world plagued by aristocrats. But he found his eyelids heavy, dropping dark eyelashes in his vision that blurred the screen. By the third song, reciting verses of an Islamic poem, he was slouched in his seat.

He slid down to the floor, crawling his way back to flop onto his bed. The music continued to play till the first ad popped up, at which time he opened his eyes, seeing a music video from Katy Perry, at which time he promptly reached over and unplugged his computer. He wasn’t sure which cord he pulled out, but the screen still went black. With that, he just barely sneaked into his covers, dozing until the morning.

It was far too easy to get information on you. Your full name was stated clearly in your youtube bio, alongside several different social media tags leading to instagram, tumblr, and facebook.

Facebook alone provided him the means to your address, and he didn’t even have to go looking for it. Your most recent post was an ad, searching for someone good with computers to aid you in your recording process, which you noted as ‘dismal’.

Are you fucking kidding me? He thought to himself, reading the ad once more.

Your address, your real, physical address was stated as the place you wanted to meet those interested in helping you. On the internet. You had doxxed yourself after less than a year of being online.

Okay, he thought, clicking on your listed email. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.

Three days later—after about two weeks of listening to your echoing voice every night—you replied, sending a cheerful email detailing when you would be available to meet him. After shooting a short message back, the date was organized.

Two more days and he was standing at your doorstep, his neck craned upwards as he scanned your tall, narrow home squished between two other apartments. He just barely knocked before the black door swung open, revealing a familiar face belonging to a stranger. Elliot was dressed in his black hoodie and jeans, a stark difference to your long, colorful robes, coming out of a sort of fantasy world.

“Hi,” he said, his voice grating with how low and quiet he kept it.

“Hello,” you said with a smile that did not match his hunched posture. “Are you Mr. Alderson?”

“Elliot,” he corrected, his chin just barely raising to meet you. “Elliot Alderson. Elliot works.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “Come inside? I was just making tea. Do you like tea? Or do you prefer coffee?”

“I... I’m fine, thanks,” he said softly, scooting past you when you opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He sucked in a breath as his chest brushed yours.

Your home was modern—far fancier than Elliot’s own apartment, with large windows flanked by soft grey curtains. A small, upright piano was in the corner of the living room, set upon a reed mat lined with Korean symbols. The couch was clinical, made of a sort of black plastic leather that matched the grey skies beyond the window panes.

He sat down, shifting his feet closer together as his fingers dug into his palms, continuing to scan the room in its’ entirety until you returned with your own tea.

“What kind of experience do you have? School counts,” you said, setting your cup down on a tiny plate whose decorations matched your teacup.

“I’ve been... experimenting, with computers, since I was around 9,” he said, mumbling the words out as his shoulders hunched awkwardly down. “Have a job at a cyber security firm. Started a while back.”

“You still have that job?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small nod. “Jus’ thought this would be... fun.”

The dead look on his face indicated no humor whatsoever, but you took his word as it was.

“How’d you find the ad I put out?”

“I... I listened to your music,” he answered honestly for once. “Helps me fall asleep.”

“Oh,” you said, clearly taken aback. Your face grew warm as you glanced away with wide eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re not very good with technology, though,” he said in his usual low, grating voice.

“Not really,” you chuckled sheepishly. “That’s why I put out the ad -“

“No, not that,” he interrupted you. “You put your physical address on the internet. You doxxed yourself. Do you even know how dangerous that is?”

The lyrics of your songs pointed towards a kind of brilliance, balanced against emotions felt thoroughly on pages and screens. It didn’t match your actions at all.

“What’s doxxing?” You asked.

Elliot had to physically stop himself from sighing and leaving.

“You want everyone to know where you, a minor celebrity, live?”

“I’d hardly call myself a -“

“I could’ve been a murderer,” he said, reaching into his bag.

He looked you in the eye as he pulled out a gun, clicking on the safety before he pointed it at you.

“This is how easy it would be to kill you.”

As expected, you stiffened at the sight of the iron barrel, your fingers withdrawing to your chest. Your lips pursed as you met his gaze once more.

“Please put the gun down,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He did as you said, resting the gun on the table.

“That’s a hell of a way to start an interview, Mr. Alderson,” you said quietly. “Please get out of my house.”

His heart sank. What had he expected? For you to fall to your knees and sing to him as he desired you to do? He threatened you with a gun to teach you a lesson, and you reacted accordingly. Calmer than others would.

Elliot stood on shaky legs, sliding the pistol into his backpack before he zipped it up. Throwing the pack over his shoulder, he swallowed through a tight throat, shuffling as he delayed his departure.

“Keep safe from people like me,” he said in a strained mumble. “Take that ad down. Meet people from the internet only in inhabited, public areas.”

You tapped your fingernails on the table for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Suddenly you stood, tugging on his sweatshirt sleeve to get him to face you, instead of staring at his feet.

“Alright. If you’re really so good at the internet -“

He ignored your incorrect grammar.

“- and... if you actually do want to help me with my songs,” your tone softened, “then you’ll be able to find my real name, not my stage name. If you do.. I’ll hire you.”

“Alright,” he said monotone, knowing the battle was already won.

Even though he knew your name already, he turned away and left to his apartment, immediately going to work on figuring out everything he could about you. If you willingly still offered him the job after that, he knew it would take a lot to scare you off. He could impress you.

It was, after all, the only thing he was good at.

Two days later he showed up at your apartment again, quietly thanking you when you let him in. The clean floors and walls remained unchanged since his last visit, and you led him to the same table, sitting him down on the same seat.

“Your name is (Y/N) (L/N),” he started with. You already appeared to be surprise. “You grew up near LA and you’ve had a chronic illness all your life. At eleven you saw your first therapist.. that must’ve been when you first got diagnosed with depression... and anxiety.”

“Killer duo,” you muttered.

“Your parents split when you were thirteen, which came at the same time as your dog, Penelope, died. Or... sometime that year. When was that... 1997?”

“1999,” you said quietly.

“Your mom homeschooled you,” he continued. “That’s probably why you don’t know how computers work. Rather eclectic, in a.. boring way... an ex-Amish, right?”

You nodded and his heartbeat tripled. Everything was right thus far despite a two year difference in his guesstimate of your life’s timeline.

“Then there was your dad... logger in the Redwood forests. Burly guy. Not a great man, from what I saw,” he said.

“He was fine,” you said with a small shrug as you looked away. “Didn’t ever hurt me, or anything.”

“Abuse isn’t always physical,” he said faster than he could think, dizzied by his own memories playing behind his eyes.

“I know,” you murmured.

You went silent, so he continued, hoping to pry more precious words from you.

“Your favorite color is yellow,” he said, leaning closer to you. “On Valentine’s you get chocolate strawberries, and on easter you get kinder eggs.”

Nothing.

“You studied mythology as a kid, and you made paintings of the forest you lived in with your mom. Santa Cruz mountains, I think.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I miss the forests.”

“I know. You want to visit Ireland again because it’s a land of faeries and moss, it’s a breeding ground for your song lyrics.”

“How did you find all this out?” You finally asked.

“You use the same password on everything,” he said, though that was far from the actual answer. “Your web browser tracks all your movements and you don’t try to stop it, or hide ads, or stay away from sketchy websites. Your parents aren’t much better, either.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you brought your hand to massage your brow.

“You’re way too smart to be helping me,” you said with soft laughter, blushing with your smile.

“It’s better than working for E Corp,” he said, huffing out a laugh that was hardly humored.

“E corp?”

“My.. uh, place of work,” he brushed off his slip. “My point is... I’d rather work with you and do easy work than work with my current fucking coworkers.”

You laughed, truly and fully this time, curling into a little ball that shook with the force of it. Your feet tucked into your tiny chair, making you even smaller.

“Bad people or just annoying?”

“Stupid,” he chuckled. “Don’t let me wear my sweatshirt.”

“Ooh, now it’s my turn,” you suddenly interrupted him, earning a strange look. “I’ve noticed things about you, too. I couldn’t learn anything off the computer, but you, you have anxiety too. Probably some childhood trauma.. maybe a dissociative disorder of sorts or a form of PTSD. Your jacket is like your home, and... you have sensory issues. Few types of fabric, don’t like to be touched, if I had to guess I’d say you might be autistic.”

“Blunt,” he said after a full minute’s silence.

“Do you mind?” You asked.

“No, not really.”

“Good. Then you’re hired,” you said with a smile, extending your hand for him to shake. “If you still want the job, of course.”

He watched you with evident apprehension, but took your hand after much thought, shaking with a firm grip.

“When do I start?”

[after-witch]

Fragile Little Thing [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Title: Fragile Little Thing [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Synopsis: Your “boyfriend” is having a rough day and he doesn’t appreciate you being such a difficult partner. If you can’t behave, maybe he can’t behave, either. 

For request: a fic with Yandere hawks. Maybe he breaks/ ruins something extremely precious to his darling. Something that money just can’t buy.

Word Count: 1800ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped, abuse

The muffled sounds of Hawks returning to the apartment are all too familiar. Jingling of keys. Click, click, clicking of the locks. You know he'd love it if you greeted him at the door, like you used to do. Which is partially why you choose to remain in bed--though really, you've hardly left it since that morning, except to greedily drink water from the tap and use the restroom.

So it comes as no surprise when the door to your 'shared' bedroom opens and Keigo stands in the doorway, looking disapproving and sad and--you catch it, in the way his eyebrows furrow--slightly annoyed at the way you're in practically the same position as when he left: curled up on the bed, holding onto a pillow like a shield in front of you.

"Babe," he says. "We've talked about this. You need to get dressed after I leave. Did you even eat?" His tone is worried, oh so worried, but you see the way he looks around the room--at the mess, at his laundry on the floor where he dropped it--in distaste. "You could at least pick up when I'm gone. We both have responsibilities around the place, y’know."

You suck in some much-needed air and hold the pillow tighter.

"Then let me leave so I can live on my own and you don’t have to worry about me not cleaning up." 

"Babe, you--." He clicks his tongue--stops himself from continuing on whatever road he was about to walk down. "Let's not start this again. We agreed to move in together. We agreed that I'd handle the bills, if you handled most of the housework."

The pillow is practically folded in half now, with the way you're clenching it. "Yes. Yes we did agreed to that. Until I realized that you're a fucking crazy person and you locked me up in this apartment for trying to leave." You stare directly at him, a challenge, daring him to contradict you again with his manipulative, deluded bullshit.

Instead, he sighs, and runs an exasperated hand through his hair. "Hey, okay, okay. I've had a really.... rough day." His voice is lower, almost gravely, and you believe him when he says it. Too bad you don't care anymore. "I'm really not up for a fight tonight. Let's call a truce."

When he says truce, your mind spins on a familiar reel. He wants a truce. He locked you up in this apartment and won't let you leave. He wants a truce. He made your friends and family believe you'd run off. He wants a truce?

The force of your thoughts has you scooching up in the bed and bracing your back against the headboard. You watch him--watching you--and wonder if he thinks you'll give in. Sometimes you do--it's inevitable, something you've thought long and hard about when you're in the apartment for hours upon end. You couldn't stand to live if you were constantly yelling at him, screaming, crying.

But you've had a few good naps, and you can stand it today.

"Fuck your truce," you spit, "and fuck your rough day--and fuck you."

His shoulders jerk in response to your words and fuck, is that satisfying. You've gotten to him. He wanted you to force a smile and say fine, whatever, what's for dinner. But you didn't. And now he can't go about the rest of his night in his deluded little fantasy that you're a willing spouse and he's going to have shitty dreams and hopefully an even shittier day tomorrow.

He's not at his limit, though, because he simply walks further into the bedroom. He stares at your dresser, the one pushed right up against his. You'd decorated it with your own knickknacks, back when you'd moved in--back when you were here willingly. Picture frames and personal mementos and jewelry that you don't bother wearing anymore.

He picks up a necklace, one he always complimented when you wore it out on dates--then increasingly, when you wore it on your evenings-in after he began insisting that you spend quality time in private instead, until finally you were trapped here and stubbornly refused to put it around your neck again.

"Angel, sweetheart, my sweet chickadee." He's tired. You're not--naps, good stuff. "Let's just both agree we're being… testy." He sets the necklace down and walks towards the bed. You flip your body around, bury your face down in the soft pillow so you can avoid looking at him. It’s childish, but you don’t care. "Then we can go make some dinner. Or we can order takeout, whatever you want. What do you say?"

His voice has an edge. You should be wary, you know this, yet your instinct for self-preservation lately has been smoothed away in favor of defiance, some meager inch of pride you can dig out for yourself.

And so you dig.

"Go. to. hell."

Something SLAMS--his fist, hard--on the headboard above you, just inches above the top of your head. 

You don't have enough time to process what just happened before Keigo gets up, furious, feet pounding on the floor and voice hot with anger. You cringe at the tone, which has crossed from annoyed into flat-out pissed. 

"How many other guys would put up with this shit? Huh?" You're half-listening, half-frozen.

You force yourself to turn over, keeping the pillow in front of you like a shield for more reasons than one, now.

"Most guys would expect to come home to a clean house and a good meal and a girlfriend who doesn't lay her ass in bed all day, crying about stupid shit."

You feel your own fury blooming in your chest. "I'm not your girlfriend--"

In a second, something shatters on the wall behind you, above you, throw just inches above your head. You crane your head down and you can just make out the mess on the floor, between the side table and the legs of the bed: jumbled shards of an ashtray, old and unused, something you'd stuck on the dresser ages ago when you were still allowed to have cigarettes. Before his jealousy turned to control, before he wouldn't let you leave--before you couldn't even smoke, because you couldn't open the windows.

You slowly turn your head to look at Keigo, and you stare at each other in silence, the air thick and hot between you. You can see his feathers bristling and your skin crawls at the thought of his feathers being the next thing to come flying towards you.

"I treat you like a princess," he says finally--and you scoff. You regret it immediately when you see his entire body, from his feet to his feathers, tense at the sound. You dug too deep.

"I treat you like a princess," he repeats, harsher, more strained. "And you don't appreciate it one fucking bit."

He picks up your phone, one of the few non-dusty items you've routinely set on your dresser in recent weeks. In a flash his arm moves, and you don't have time to say or do anything before it joins the ash tray on the floor. You glance and you can see the screen, black and shimmery, cracked into a hundred hairline cobwebs.

Don't move, you think. Don't move don't move.

He picks up a porcelain plate, thick with dust. A trinket from an antique mall Keigo took you on your... third date, you think. Or fourth. He trails his gloved finger along the dusty rim and wipes off the gunk on his pants.

"I clean for you," he says, voice low and spiteful. "You refuse to wash one fucking dish without trying to throw it at my head when my back is turned."

The plate is whipped so fast that it brushes your arm before it lands on the floor in a heap. At least its shards are on the floor, not your face.

"I cook for you. I buy you whatever takeout you want. You don't give so much as a nice little thank you."

You're waiting for something else to fly your way, waiting for the moment he finally says fuck it and hits you instead of the headboard, instead of the wall. But he's standing stock still now.

You're furious with him. You're scared of him. You want to reason with him. You don't know which feeling to deal with and so your words fall somewhere in between anger and terror and the need to placate.

"Keigo--" he looks at you when you say his name, and it's something. "Keigo, you kidnapped me. I don't want to be here. I--I broke up with you. We're not... we're not healthy together. Why can't you understand that?'

Tears are pricking at your eyes and his figure is a little blurry as he faces you with a strange calmness--strange, considering he just hurled hard, potentially sharp objects close to your face. You wipe your tears and his eyes are practically piercing into yours before he speaks.

"Take that back. Take that back right now."

You swallow against the harsh tightness pressing inside your throat.

"We're dating," he says, with the same low intensity. "We're very happy together."

You're so tired, now, so tired that it's hard to be angry with him. You just settle for being sad. 

"We're not."

He turns back to the dresser and picks up a figurine--the figurine, the one you carefully set on your dresser the very first day you moved on; the only thing on your dresser that you dust off every morning. The last figurine your mother made you before she died, hand-painted and hand-made and the only one of her creations that you have left.

And he knows, he knows all this, he knows it's important and you can only let out a breathy, desperate cry before it's hurled at the wall with cruel force.

Your hands fly out to catch it--impossible--and the brief brush of the hard porcelain against your outstretched fingers is the last memory you'll have of it before it smashes against the wall. Fragile, broken, in shards.

The sound that comes out of your mouth when you see the shards of the figure, the shards of your mother’s memory is involuntary and primal. A sound that makes you clutch your chest to make sure you’re not dead--you’re not, no, you’re alive and you hurt so much that you think you’re going to break in half. Your hands clutch at your mouth and you scratch your lips without feeling or knowing it.

Keigo has already swooped in, and you don’t hear every word so much as his tone--so sorry and worried and oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck, he didn’t mean it, he was just so angry, he’ll fix it he’ll fix it he’ll fix this. His arms and his wings are wrapped around you, gentle and invading, as he rocks you slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. You don’t fight. You don’t scream at him. You just stare ahead, at the empty space where the figurine used to be, a clean circle surrounded by a layer of dust. It was a fragile little thing--and so are you.

[wh6res]

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person. 

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve. 

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun. 

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings. 

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll. 

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections. 

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to. 

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail. 

but you weren’t as lucky today. 

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin. 

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you. 

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing. 

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too. 

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold. 

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale. 

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you. 

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn. 

she reminds you of yourself. 

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck. 

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job. 

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again. 

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you. 

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine. 

you look over your shoulder. 

no one’s there. 

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way. 

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding. 

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night. 

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea. 

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government. 

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted. 

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. 

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes. 

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin. 

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight. 

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force. 

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud. 

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green. 

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak. 

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer. 

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply. 

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them. 

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?” 

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape. 

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent. 

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries? 

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life. 

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake. 

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls. 

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault. 

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house. 

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day. 

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless. 

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate. 

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can. 

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside. 

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again. 

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice. 

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there. 

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with. 

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan. 

you almost collapse against the brick wall. 

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose. 

until you saw who it was. 

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday. 

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try. 

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma. 

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down. 

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times. 

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left. 

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes. 

three times you’ve cheated death. 

but time is up and your luck has run out. 

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch. 

naeun is nowhere to be seen. 

good. 

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare. 

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience. 

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it. 

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket. 

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances. 

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper. 

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you. 

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder. 

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you. 

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings. 

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you. 

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke. 

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone. 

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath. 

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase. 

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium). 

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin. 

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them. 

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory. 

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball. 

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

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jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[inadaydream99]

The One Where You Can’t Be Kept Apart

A/N - Thank you 🥕anon for sending in this request and another brilliant idea! I really hope you enjoy what I have come up with ☺️ Also, I was unsure with how to end it, so it took me a little longer to write than usual 😂

Disclaimer: This is inspired by the Friends episode ‘The One With the Memorial Service’ and is in no way my own original idea. I have also used some direct quotes from the episode for the purpose of keeping some fidelity towards the plot.

You huff, folding your arms across your chest as Soobin begins to interrogate you. He’s only been at yours for a few minutes and you’re already tired of him. You get that he’s trying to look out for you and do as you asked of him; which he’s taking incredibly seriously. But is it really necessary for him to pay you a visit sporadically, just to see if he can catch you out?

It’s like he doesn’t trust you. Not that you blame him really, I mean you’ve just broken up with the love of your life, Yeonjun, and asked Soobin to make sure you don’t have any contact with him because you don’t trust yourself to keep away. But just because you have very little self control when it comes to Yeonjun, doesn’t mean that you need to be watched so often.

It’s been about two weeks since you and Yeonjun broke up after being happily together for just over a year. The reason being that you both realised you wanted different things for your future. Things that, even after much debate, neither of you were willing to compromise on.

It had always been your dream to fall in love with your soulmate and get married. Ever since you were little you’d indulge in your fantasy and act out these magical weddings with your friends. You, of course, always played the bride.

Now, Yeonjun has never been opposed to the idea of marriage. He just doesn’t see the point in having this big, expensive wedding. In his opinion it’s a waste of time and money. He would just be happy to elope.

And that’s the main issue that broke you up. You’d been so distraught over the idea of not having the wedding of your dreams, and Yeonjun stubborn in his views, that you’d come to the agreement that if you can’t agree on this then you’re not meant for each other.

From the second he received the news from you crying down the phone, Soobin had barely left your side. He’s been the most amazing friend to you and done everything he can to help you through this break up. And that’s exactly why you feel guilty for finding him annoying right now.

“I know you’re hiding something (Y/N).” Soobin mumbles, more so to himself than to you, but you hear him clearly none the less. “Who’s shoes are these?” He suddenly quizzes you, holding up a pair of dirty black trainers. Ok, so they aren’t the most fashionable shoes ever, but they are comfy and you have lost any motivation to put effort into your appearance right now. All you can seem to focus on is your heartbreak.

“They’re mine.” You deadpan, your sensitivity making it difficult to not be offended. And Soobin really should have known better because if he’d taken a second longer to look at the shoes he’d realise that they are too small to belong to Yeonjun.

“Oh, sorry.” He utters softly, placing the shoes neatly by the front door once again. You watch as he snoops his way around your apartment, in and out of rooms unsatisfied with his lack of finding anything.

That is, until a knock on your front door sounds. You casually make a stand from the sofa where you had previously been slouched, still sulking over Soobin’s insult over your shoes.

“Wait! I’ll get it.” Soobin calls out to you, hurrying past you. He practically pushes you away from the door; not that he intends to, he’s just oblivious to his actions in the moment.

“It’s just the takeout I ordered.” You sigh, throwing your hands up defensively.

Soobin shoots you a frown before turning the handle and swinging the door open.

“Oh my, what are the chances!” You pretend to be shocked, hands flying up to cover your mouth upon the disappointed look Soobin sends you when the door reveals Yeonjun. “7 billion people in the world and they send Yeonjun to deliver my food!” You continue, hoping that you sound believable enough. Though it’s unlikely with the way your best friend has been doubting you from the very second you asked him to help you keep away from Yeonjun.

Soobin simply rolls his eyes at your terrible acting, turning expectantly to look at Yeonjun for an explanation to his presence.

“I’m sorry, but when (Y/N) called I just couldn’t keep away.” His head hangs low, ashamed of his weakness for you… and for getting caught.

“How’d you even call him?” Soobin gawks at you, seriously confused as to how you found a way to contact Yeonjun without having access to a phone. Yes, Soobin had confiscated it first chance he got. But you have to admit that the time away from your phone has been quite nice.

“FaceTime on IPad.” You mumble sulkily, reluctantly admitting how you’d managed to go behind Soobin’s back. You’d hidden it from him so your parents could at least contact you if they needed… or so you’d convinced yourself.

“iPad, of course! I should have known.” Soobin shakes his head, scolding himself for not having realised sooner.

“Soobin, if (Y/N) and I want to see each other, then we should be allow-”

“This doesn’t concern you Yeonjun.” Soobin interjects Yeonjun’s justification. It’s not that he wants to be rude to Yeonjun, or that he doesn’t like him, it’s just that if he allows this then he’s failed at being a good, supportive friend to you.

“Oh really, maybe I was confused considering the mention of my name.” Yeonjun sasses back. “What I was saying was, why can’t we be friends?” Yeonjun, determined to finish what he wants to say, continues. You notice he doesn’t look at Soobin as he speaks, only you. And the pleading look he sends your way makes you melt.

“I guess there’s no harm in that.” You shrug, trying to not show your true emotions as you observe the wide smile that spreads out across Yeonjun’s face. You really had missed his smile so much.

“Well ok then. If you’re just hanging out as friends then I can join, cause I’m your friend and Yeonjun’s friend too.” Soobin announces and you stifle your laughter when you notice Yeonjun grimace at being called Soobin’s friend.

“I guess.” Yeonjun mumbles reluctantly as he is finally able to enter your apartment properly.

The three of you sit on the sofa, Soobin forcing himself in the small space between you. It’s awkward. No one knowing what to say first to break the silence.

“So how have you been?” Yeonjun is the first to speak, leaning around Soobin to see you.

“I’ve been good, thanks.” Soobin answers as you open your mouth to speak.

“And you?” Yeonjun chuckles now beginning to find Soobin amusing. His gaze is focused intently onto you, eager to finally talk properly with you after so long apart.

“I’ve been better.” You force a small smile.

When you’d initially contacted Yeonjun and invited him over, you’d been so desperate that you hadn’t given it any thought as to how you might feel when he’s actually here. It’s a lot more difficult to see him than you expected, and you know it’s just your overwhelming emotions talking, but you’re still in love with him.

Despite wanting nothing but to cave in and get back with Yeonjun, you remain strong and fight the urge. You don’t want the same things as each other. And the more you remind yourself of that, the more you are able to convince yourself that breaking up was the right thing for the both of you.

“I’ve missed you.” Yeonjun admits. You stare into his longing gaze, your heart racing as you see the sincerity pouring out of him.

“I’ve missed you too.” You whisper, not trusting your voice. You can feel your eyes well up as the words tumble from your lips without thought. Although, it’s true, you really have missed him with all your heart.

“You know, on my way over here I saw a pigeon throw up and then a rat ate it.” Soobin quickly jumps in and changes the moment as soon as he senses the mood getting too serious.

“I still think about you everyday. I mean it’s kinda hard not to when everything reminds me of you.” Yeonjun chooses to ignore Soobin’s obvious attempt at stopping your conversation.

You aren’t sure how to respond to him, so overwhelmed that you feel like the room is spinning.

“Ok, I’m gonna head to the bathroom.” Soobin stands from the sofa. “But I’ll be quick so don’t try anything.” He warns, waving his pointed finger between the both of you before he leaves.

“Look, I’m not going to ask to get back together because I know we want different things.” Yeonjun takes the opportunity to finally say what he’s wanted to say the whole time. “But just to be with you one more night…”

“I want that too, but isn’t that gonna make it too hard?” You try to reason.

“It can’t be any harder than the last few weeks…” And yet, Yeonjun’s words seem to make more sense than you’d like.

“If I’d known the last time I saw you would be the last time, I would have stopped to memorise your face, the way you moved. Everything about you. If I had know the last time I kissed you would be the last time, I never would have stopped.” You’re left speechless by Yeonjun’s confession. Seemingly frozen in shock, your mind blank of all thoughts.

“Kiss him, you fool!” Soobin jolts you out of your daze as he rushes back in to the room.

“Huh?” You scrunch your brows in confusion at your friend. He’s done a complete 180 flip after hearing Yeonjun’s speech.

“Didn’t you hear him? If you don’t kiss him, I will.” You stare at him in shock. This has got to be some sort of test, right?

Except Soobin’s expression is completely serious. You cast several quick glances between Soobin and Yeonjun, observing how the latter sends you an almost pleading look, probably silently begging you to not let Soobin kiss him.

Soobin must be serious about telling you to kiss Yeonjun, because he’s willingly encouraging you. And that’s what finally makes you give in, instantly closing the space between you and Yeonjun, your lips moulding perfectly together in a passionate kiss.

You both pull apart breathless, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes.

“I knew you’d be here!” You jolt apart when the door swings open and slams against the wall.

“Who is this?” Soobin questions, confusion clouding his features.

“It’s my friend Beomgyu.” Yeonjun sighs. “I asked him to keep me away from you.” Yeonjun directs the last part towards you.

You simply giggle at him, half still elated from your kiss, the other in amusement.

“Hey, I’m doing that for (Y/N).” Soobin beams.

“Well you’re not doing a very good job. What’s with all the kissing!” Beomgyu sasses back.

You cast your gaze back to Yeonjun when Soobin and Beomgyu begin bickering back and forth, too invested in their arguing to pay attention to either of you.

“Want to get out of here?” You whisper to him, wide grin on your face when he nods and grabs your hand; both of you sneaking out without being noticed and quickly rushing away to make up for lost time.

“Hey, where’d they go?” Soobin suddenly notices you’re missing.

“Ugh, we blew it.” Beomgyu grumpily mutters, defeatedly throwing his hands in the air.

“I blame myself.” Soobin shakes his head in disappointment.

“I blame you too.” Soobin sends Beomgyu a glare in response.

[squishneedsahero]

Getting The Family Together

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 12 of 13

Word Count: 1550

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

You're in an amazingly good mood when you arrive home that evening after seeing Jason. Your other children, official and unofficial, notice along with your husband but none of them ask, assuming that the GCPD charity ball had just gone better than expected. It isn't until a few days after you had seen Jason that Bruce brings up your persistent good mood. You had successfully pulled him away from all of his work, yet again, just to cuddle him on the couch. You were in your usual spot on his lap with your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head when he brings it up, "what has you in such a good mood? I know you well enough that it wasn't the GCPD charity ball."

You lean your head back against his shoulder so you can look up at him, "well, I sure hope you would know that, Love. But whats different about my mood?" Your question is genuine in the moment, but the second after you ask it you realize of course you wouldn't be able to hide the fact that you were happy about seeing and holding your Jaybear in your arms once again.

"Well, since you left that evening you've been in a-" he pauses, wanting to choose the correct words since he knows if he were to say 'better mood' you would relentlessly bug him about it for the next week or so, "you've been in a good mood far too long for it to have just been due to you being tipsy from the party."

You laugh gently, "good catch," you say in reference to his pause, "you know me so well." You take a pause of your own, absentmindedly tilting your head to press a kiss to his jaw. "I saw Jason," you eventually answer and open your mouth to continue but get interrupted.

"I know, I won't ask you where he is," Bruce says as the both of you know he had been trying to track Jason down for months at this point. At first it had been to stop him but as soon as he learned it was Jason his motivation had changed to helping Jason get off the seemingly destructive path he was currently on. His arms tighten around you, "I'm glad you got to see him." His hand brushes your hair out of your face, "I know that you missed him."

You smile at the man holding you, grateful yet again for the many arguments you had gone through with him, convincing him that you weren't scared of the potential dangers. "I know you did too, eventually he'll be ready to come home again and we can have our family together once more."

You can do nothing but glare at the man standing in your face. He was ugly, before you had broken his nose with your fist and without the black eye that was quickly forming. In all honesty you were surprised that it had taken this long for you to get kidnapped for the second time in your life, the first time since officially meeting Bruce. "Now, you're going to behave yourself while we call your husband and get him to send us the ransom money if he wants to see you alive again."

"Okay," you respond as it takes everything in you to not just sit there and taunt the man. They had you duck-taped to a chair, preventing you from causing further damage to their faces. And sure maybe you should be acting scared but still your reaction to danger is to laugh in it's face, even if you know that as soon as that phone call was made you would be out of this place in the hour.

The brutish looking man growls in frustration and slaps you across the face before yelling at his friends to keep an eye on you while he makes a phone call.

Tears sting your eyes at the slap on the face but you bite your tongue and look at the other two men who were now standing in front of you. There were maybe 20 others scattered through the building, they had clearly thought all of this through, but were a little underprepared for the fact that every single hero or vigilante in the city would take your kidnapping personally.

The man who had slapped you comes back, bragging about how scared Bruce had sounded on the phone and how willingly he was ready to hand over the money he had demanded. He barely makes it back into the room, when there is a moment of static over their walkie-talkies and then as scream and some loud banging off in the distance.

"Ooh, that doesn't sound very good," you say, clenching your teeth in false sympathy for them. "You guys might want to get that checked out." You can see that the man wants to slap you again for your big mouth but there is another shout and he begins directing the men to group together to try and protect the merchandise.

Eventually, you notice him first, Jason sneaks into the room in his Redhood gear. You were a little surprised to see him out of everyone since there had not been a single gunshot fired and that was kind of his thing. It didn't take the men around you long to notice Jason, since he was moving through the open now.

As they approach Jason, after realizing he isn't shooting everyone on sight, the men's confidence gets shattered as an actual child jumps from the rafters and knocks 3 of them down in one go. They begin firing their guns, shooting at anything that moves. You see their recklessness and know you should get out of there since as soon as they realize they're outmatched they're going to threaten you in the hopes of gaining an advantage.

You unsteadily stand, still duck-taped to the chair, and begin to waddle towards the nearest doorway. You get interrupted by your oldest son catching you, "hey, need some help?" Dick asks, clearly teasing you for this predicament you had gotten into.

"No thanks, Nightwing, I've heard that it improves your running speed if you're tied to a chair."

You see the flash of a smile cross his face as he just cuts the tape and helps you out of it. He then goes to help you out of the room but you stop him and say, "I can manage, you help your brothers."

You can see him hesitate for a moment before going with it, you then take off towards the door, only to be interrupted once again, but this time by the man who had slapped you, pointing his gun in your face. Your three sons who had come to your rescue, clearly trying to keep some sort of secret identities by the fact that everyone wasn't here, are all busy in the moment. You stop short at the sight of the gun, but once again you're impulsive, kicking the man square in the balls before bolting to the door.

You make it to the door and pull it open, stepping through it just for a shooting pain to go through your thigh. It's as you fall to the ground that you hear the gunshot and realize that the bastard had shot you. You do what you can to close the door behind you, just in time since another bullet hits the door. You then scoot across the grimy floor, to a spot where you can hide since you won't be moving far, and look at the blood trail you had left. You take a breath and collect your thoughts, remembering the sports bra you had worn and ripping your shirt off for a makeshift bandage/tourniquet for your leg.

You get it wrapped well enough to stop some of the bleeding and begin putting pressure on the wound, despite the fact that doing so nearly caused you to black out. Not long after that the fighting in the other room stops and Jason is the first one through the closed door.

"Mama?" He takes the hood off as he lands on his knees beside you.

"I'm fine," you say, motherly instinct taking over and you wanting to protect him despite the fact that he had just taken out at least 7 guys on his own moments before.

"Bull," he says and moves your hands so that he can evaluate things, not that he didn't trust you knew what you were doing but knowing that your mind was probably a bit all over the place.

"I'm fine, enough, Jaybear," you say and lean your head against the wall behind you.

Hours later you're relaxing on the couch with Bruce and three of your boys, holding them all as well as you can with a leg cast. The bullet had fractured your femur so it made everything a bit more complicated but at least now you knew how it felt to be shot so you could write better descriptions in your books.

But it's as you're sitting there with Bruce, Dick, Tim and Damian that the doorbell rings and a few minutes later Alfred enters the room. You look up to see Jason standing beside him, "Hey."

[crossroad-of-fate]

-Just Like a Cat-

"Leona-san! Where do I put your trousers?" You called after opening the door to his wardrobe. Hearing him shift on his mattress from behind. You looked over your shoulder at him.

He was dressed in his dorm pajamas, brown hair spread around wildly on his sheets like branches. and you could only see a thin line of green when he raised his head to look at where you are. Plopping back down when he located your figure by his dresser.

"Third drawer from the top...and be quiet will you?" He answered with a hoarse voice, now sleeping on his side. You bit your lip to stop a squeal when you saw his ears twitch.

Just like a cat.

Your fingers itch to pet them and it was getting harder and harder every day to control yourself from just slapping your hand on top of his hair and fulfill your overwhelming desire to pet his ears.

Yet, you knew better than to disturb a predator.

That doesn't stop you from repeatedly opening and closing the drawer to create a sound loud enough so his ears will twitch again though. It moved and the sleeping beast even nuzzled his cheek onto his pillow.

You wanted to Aaww so badly.

Getting back on track, you turned your back on him and placed the clean trousers neatly inside the drawer. You began to lose yourself in thought as your hands busied themselves with organizing the contents of the drawer.

How will he react if you just ask to pet his ears?

You've been lightening Ruggie's workload by taking care of Leona's wardrobe and you haven't been paid for your work at all. To be honest, you did just wanted to help the second year. The overworked ones had to stick together after all but you wouldn't mind if he paid you with something.

Or maybe Azul is just starting to rub off of you. You stopped your hands and mulled on the thought, then shaking your head in disagreement after a second.

...

It wouldn't hurt to try.

And besides Leona would never intentionally injure a magicless human such as yourself. Why would he prey on the weak and defenseless?

You somehow forgot that that is exactly the kind of prey predators would hunt.

So with false courage in your head, you approach the dorm leader. Kneeling on the side of his bed and coughing onto your hand to wake him up.

He didn't even stir.

"Psst! Leona-san?" You whisper as quietly as you can, poking his shoulder with your finger.

He stirred but didn't open his eyes or acknowledge your presence. You resorted to patting his shoulder and smiling in relief when your eyes fell onto his green ones.

"What do you want..?" He yawned, flexing a pair of sharp fangs right in your face.

You blink. Starting to hesitate. But one look of his ears flicking the air is all it took to persuade you again.

"I'd like to get paid for my services if you don't mind." You grinned.

The lion looked at you emptily, still not fully aware of his surroundings.

"Wha-"

"Paid Leona. Paid. I want to get paid for it."

"Ruggie said you wanted to willingly help him. He never said anything about money-" You cut him off with a loud clap of your hands.

"I didn't say I wanted to get paid with money. Oh no no, I want something else."

Leona, now fully awake, raised an eyebrow at you telling you to continue. He was half annoyed that you woke him up for this but he was also curious.

Have the evil souls of Night Raven College finally corrupted yours? Have you become one of them? Thirsty for power and money?

You, the magicless prefect who infamously defeated countless overblots in less than a year, Leona can't help but wonder. What exactly does your little 'kind' heart desire?

"Can I pet your ears?"

Oop-

The pessimism clouding his mind dissipating like smoke at your words. He looked even more confused than he was before, looking you up and down as if you just said something so wrong.

"Do I look like some stray kitten to you? No." He answered sternly, rolling his green eyes when you started frowning at him. You stopped him from turning his back-

"You won't have to move your body, no money taken out of your wallet, you can just lay your head in my lap and sleep." You counted the advantages Leona would get, convincing him with a soft smile and eager eyes.

"So please?"

Leona still looked unconvinced and he was prepared to kick you out of his room for requesting to do such a tender and intimate act to him. He stayed silent, sparing you one last chance to convince him.

"I won't tell anybody! I'll bring this to my grave!" You mimicked a zipping motion against your lips with your thumb and index finger.

Leona blinked, very weirded out by your determination. Honestly, he just wanted to sleep...

"...fine."

Your eyes widened the size of oranges. Your face shouting excitement. "Really?!"

Leona didn't answer and laid on his pillow properly this time, eyes already closing. You took it as a sign to scoot closer towards his bed. You didn't dare to just sit on his bed so you extended your hand towards his head, only to be stopped by a tight grip of Leona's hand around your wrist.

You almost jumped in surprise.

"If this gets to anyone's ears. I'll personally chase you down and tear your throat out, got it?" He threatened with eyes back open and glaring at you.

You fervently nodded, your shoulders relaxing the moment he released your wrist.

He laid his head onto the pillow and his scowl quickly changed into a more nonviolent expression. You waited in the silence for the atmosphere to grow less dangerous before putting your elbows on the mattress. Leaning closer to Leona's head.

You inhaled deeply and gently brushed your knuckles against the tip of his ears. Biting down your lips to stop from screaming in satisfaction. Your fingers patiently grazed his ears, careful not to make him uncomfortable.

Your palm began petting between his ears and you noticed how his body began breathing more easily. Leona was asleep already, how long has it been? 7 seconds? You took your time feeling his ears, they were much more compact than those of cats, but they were still so unbelievably soft.

You would never tell Leona about how he moved closer to your hand every time you pulled it away.

The King Of Beasts at the palm of your hands. How endearing.

Just like a cat.

[hualianff]

How To Piss Off Your Boss II 《I》

When HC places the dishes in front of a group of esteemed guests, foreigners and wealthy business people by appearance, he’s roped into a brief conversation in English. Not that he minds too much. HC has had many opportunities to practice different languages in the kitchens he’s worked in, mainly consisting of English, Spanish, Italian, and Japanese. Most of the phrases HC retained were curse words too. Go figure.

Once the CEO wraps up the small talk session, he spins on his heel and speeds back to the kitchen. As he power walks through the various tables, HC takes note of which guests have seemingly ordered yet still only have drinks on their tables. He’s not sure what his employees were yammering about to delay their service up to fifteen minutes, but it could certainly wait until after the dinner rush, for god’s sake.

A blur of white completely stops HC in his tracks. His neck suffers from a violent double-take when he catches sight of a familiar white turtleneck, worn by a figure with a familiar smile. HC’s mouth gapes open slightly, nearly tripping in his haste to veer off towards the two-person table secluded by the window.

XL cutely waves as he finally gets a glimpse of his husband tonight.  

“Gege!?” HC breathily asks, confused. XL sets his flute of wine down, amber eyes shining with mirth. 

“Surprise!”

HC immediately shoots a glare back to the kitchens where he sees his employees peeking through the pair of windows on the doors. His lips curl into an angry snarl, like a tiger provoked by its own streak. He makes a move to steamroll into his kitchen and rip them a new one. Except a hand grasps onto his wrist before he can make it past one table.

“San Lang, don’t mind them. It’s no big deal,” XL pleads, tugging on HC’s hand. The taller man willingly turns around, rolling his wrist so he can be the one to hold XL’s hands instead. 

“Gege, how long have you been waiting?” HC asks in a tight voice. XL frowns, not wanting to answer, but he knows HC won’t let it go.

“Just under thirty minutes.“

“Thirty minutes!?” HC exclaims. “The fact that no one told me you were here for nearly half an hour is unacceptable. Oh my god, I’m going to fire them all.“

“No, you’re not. San Lang, calm down. I didn’t tell you I was coming, so you couldn’t have known. I don’t think the server who showed me to my seat even knew who I was,” XL reasons.

He subconsciously pulls HC closer to sitting down at the table. 

“Someone should’ve told them because you’re not just any customer, gege. You’re my HUSBAND. You’re important to me, and I would like my workers to let me know if you’re here regardless if I knew beforehand. I don’t want you to have to wait that long for me to come out and join you.“

“They said you were busy! Plus, thirty minutes is hardly a long time.“ XL tries again. HC insistently shakes his head, gingerly squeezing XL’s hands. 

“Darling, your time is too precious to be wasted like that,” HC says, leaning forward to plant a kiss on XL’s forehead. XL hums as he finally pushes HC down into the chair opposite of his own. 

“Well, you’re here now, right? Why don’t we enjoy a lovely dinner together? My treat!” XL says happily.

Seconds later, two massive dishes of finely-boiled squid and glass noodles, along with spicy wonton soup are placed in front of the two men. It’s the new cook who bows while stuttering out an apology, repeating “I didn’t know- Hua Lao Ban, Xie-xiansheng- I didn’t know- please forgive me.”

XL, being the angel he is, claims there is nothing to forgive. Across from him, HC silently churns in strong disagreement. It takes three servers to make sure everything was up to standard, watching their boss’ expression carefully for any hint of dissatisfaction. They leave in a hurry, the abundance of food making XL’s face light up like a Christmas tree.

“I love you, San Lang,” XL cheers, tapping his chopsticks together excitedly.

HC’s face softens, endeared by his husband’s antics. The incident is far from being forgotten in his mind. After all, from the stories XL has told about the times he was truly struggling in life after the pitfall of his parents, HC has a very good idea of what circumstances XL has had to endure—way worse than waiting thirty minutes for his food and husband to show up. 

XL probably didn’t even expect to see HC tonight. And that is still absolutely inexcusable. XL is HC’s number one priority, even above all of his businesses.

But for now, HC supposes he can put it off to share a wonderful meal with his husband.

“I love you too, Gege,” he responds, shoulders relaxing.

However, an offending, black, leather folder captures HC’s attention. It’s tucked into a corner on XL’s side of the table, unopened. HC already knows what it is without having to look closer.

“Gege…”

“Hmm?” XL looks up with his mouth full of noodles.

“Did they charge you for the meal?” HC asks slowly, barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface. His eye pins the flutes of his favorite drink he hasn’t touched. “And the wine?”

XL chews methodically, cheeks puffing from how stuffed they are. If anyone who cared about eating etiquette were watching him, they no doubt would be utmost appalled at such a messy display. HC would curse them to hell if they dared said or did anything.

XL finally swallows, licking his lips.

“There’s nothing wrong with charging me,” XL says. HC’s nails dig into his skin as his hands clench into balled fists. “What if I just want to support my husband?”

HC inhales deeply, then exhales heavily.

“Gege does that enough by being married to me. Look, I’ll be right back-“ HC abruptly stands up. He swoops in to kiss XL on the lips, pecking three more times which makes XL giggle. HC then quickly blows cool air on the spoon XL holds mid-air with his hot soup. 

Without another word, HC storms back towards the kitchens. The other cooks actively avoid their boss, bowing profusely if they happen to cross paths with him. HC doesn’t say anything to acknowledge their remorseful actions. For the next ten minutes, he continues instructing the team as if the mishap hadn’t even happened. 

Apologizing won’t be enough, they all know this. They kept not only XL waiting for thirty minutes but also the other customers that entered after him. However, XL had been waiting for the longest as he was a walk-in customer, which made it all the more displeasing for HC to find out his husband had not received the special treatment he deserved. 

The orders have slowed down enough for HC to snap his fingers as a signal for everyone to line up. When all the cooks are appropriately assembled, HC doesn’t hesitate to hurl the folder with the check onto the main island in front of them. 

“Who was it?” HC asks icily. No one utters a sound. The CEO reaches over to yank out the white paper filled with prices. He points to it, eyeing every single one of his employees. “Tell me. Who gave this to him? Who charged him for his meal when I have specified numerous times to never–and I mean NEVER–bill him.”

It’s so quiet in the kitchen, the guests closest to the kitchen doors can probably hear HC scolding his cooks, beyond livid. HC couldn’t care less, as long as XL was outside of hearing range and slurping down his soup with a content tummy. He’ll have to make it up to XL on his own accords, first by taking his husband home to have uninterrupted one-on-one discussion.

The newer cook who HC has distinguished as Hai Ye shuffles uncomfortably, looking like a child guilty of disobeying their parents’ order. Someone has yet to speak up to confess or snitch, meaning they would rather face punishment collectively than risk one person receiving full blame. While HC is one thread away from blowing his top off, he buries the nasty curses down inside his chest. He knows what it’s like to receive unfair consequences for things he didn’t knowingly do wrong. 

Instead, HC forces his temper to cool down. 

“Seeing as these were a series of mistakes that everyone here has contributed to, I’m canceling janitorial services and assigning all of you cleaning duty,” HC declares, crossing his arms. “I don’t know what else it will take, but this must not happen again. With Xie Lian or with the backed-up orders. We are better than that, understood?”

“Yes, Hua Lao Ban,” the cooks recite resolutely. HC grunts with a tone of finality. He quickly snatches his long coat, taking out his wallet and stacking the amount of money needed to cover XL’s check. 

“Good. We can move on from that. Finish the night on a reasonable note. Additionally, can someone fetch me a to-go box and cup?” HC asks as he unbuttons his chef blouse and throws it into the hamper off to the side. HY is the closest to the to-go boxes, so he instantly abides by HC’s request. The CEO offers HY a nod of gratitude. Then, he’s out of the kitchen, long coat thrown loosely over his lanky frame. 

Between the few orders they have to complete, HY witnesses HC personally box up his and his husband’s food. XL eagerly holds HC’s hand when he’s done, pulling the taller man towards the front door to go home. Before leaving, HC gives the head chef, HX, a menacing glare as if to say, “You better have things under control.”

The CEO of Crimson Embers walks out of his restaurant with a gentle hand resting on his husband’s lower back. They disappear through the front glass doors, subtly leaning into each other’s space, content to be together after a long day apart. 

Bonus:

When the other branches hear about the incident, they hang up a framed picture of XL with HC, making sure to point to XL’s face for new employees saying, “If this man enters the restaurant, show him to his seat and then tell Hua Lao Ban immediately. Get him everything he asks for. NEVER charge him for his orders.”