#and i hate how fake deep that is i wish he'd shut the fuck up

[etherbonded]

@arccrum said: Does Masayoshi really have to yell at this stupid brat? He wants to punch him, even if it causes more blood loss... but, he won't do that. Instead he takes a deep breath and a angry smile. " You know what. I've been there before and I almost died a couple times doing my job during the Amamiya incident seven years ago... Our mom almost threw me into another coma for worrying her. Therefore... Once you're healed up... I'm gonna make you suffer, kid. For worrying me, for worrying mom... for putting your life in danger, for putting OUR lives in danger upon faking your death... Boy... Rest a lot, you're going to need it. " Masayoshi is Goro's older brother, and therefore, the right to make a younger brother suffer... is totally his.

Is it too late to consider death the better option than suffering?

He can feel the dread filling his mind as Masayoshi speaks, or maybe he's feeling light-headed? Who knows at this point genuinely, and who cares, because he already felt bad for worrying them so much and he knows that had he just said the words he didn't have a good feeling about him going ahead... this could've been avoided all together. But no, he bit his tongue because it felt stupid, he felt like he was being paranoid but... of course Goro's gut feeling had been right in the end. The Thieves couldn't take care of it so... he forced them to press ahead leaving himself on his own.

Goro knows that this would effectively cause his mother more distress alone with all his other family members, but he truly hadn't planned to get hurt like this. But then again... he's been reckless with this whole thing lately... it's his own fault for being an absolute idiot honestly and he knows it. Goro regrets this immensely and really wishes he'd just said the word. Masa would've kept by them had he just spoke... Goro feels like he's being stupid and it's frustrating him. Because he should know better, he DOES know better.

Somehow his brother's angry smile is more nerve-wracking than him yelling at him. ..Especially when he knows he's fucked up so genuinely badly. He's going to enjoy resting for as long as he can, because he knows this is something that his brother will never let him forget ever. Even if Goro's being just a stupid teenager... this has hurt and affected far too many for it not to be a constant reminder of how he needs to be more careful. " Okay! ...Okay. I get it. You can make me... suffer as much... as you.. want. I was... stupid and.. rash. I get it. I... I made you all... worry... I know I fucked up okay? ...I know... it's my... fault. "

His voice cracks slightly... he hates that he can feel his eyes water. He doesn't want to cry, no, not now. He doesn't have the right to even if he's in pain still. Their pain that he'd caused was far greater than his. " ...And I know... sorry won't fix this... but I am sorry... I didn't mean for this to... to... "

His breath catches in his throat as he tries to batt away the wetness within his eyes. " ...I didn't mean to hurt you all... I just wanted to be the one... to protect you all for once... I know it's stupid and childish... you don't have to tell me twice. ...I ..I get it. I'm not like you... I'm not strong enough to.. to do that.. I... I know I'm not... " He can't finish the last sentence as his words fail him, his sentence may not have made total sense as he wasn't sure he was piecing it together properly ...but Masa knows what he means most likely. Goro shuts up and just focuses on breathing and not passing out from blood loss.

" ... "

[micvhisms]

😒👿👑👪 ( i laughed at the last one )

😒 …someone my muse hates.

NAOMI’S FATHER. micah’s only met the man a few times, and he used to think of him as a good man. it’s easy to think of anyone as a good dad, in comparison to micah’s own, but he thought carson was the epitome of fatherhood. he thought it was admirable, how often he was willing to watch the twins, when naomi needed a break, or when she just couldn’t. he used to think that he was someone worth something. but in the past year, micah’s watched as his words settled on naomi. he’s watched as every mean comment, and every cruel word got to her, diminishing at her confidence. and now this? taking her kids? micah’s never really hated anyone; not until now. not until this.

👿 …someone my muse used to like, but doesn’t anymore.

haha, himself. once upon a time, micah really was happy. self-love was the eternal mood. but years living with the monster that his father became… it changed him.

👑 …someone my muse is jealous of.

literally everyone? but, in particular, i’m gonna be honest and say JULIAN. micah feels a lot towards julian, but jealousy is certainly a part of it. because julian has a lot going for him. he’s smart, and he’s so easy to befriend (if you aren’t micah). he has a huge family, where micah now has none. julian’s weak, but that’s because he’s never had to be cold and guarded. julian has a lot that micah wishes he had, but that’s a sentiment micah’s taking to the grave.

👪 …someone in my muse’s family.

MICAH’S MOTHER was bright, once upon a time. she was the warmth of the sun shining through the window, something you can’t look at, lest you lose yourself in her divine ways. she was beauty and luminescence, a picture that spoke millions of words without saying anything at all. her laugh was nothing beautiful; it was loud and silly, with snorts breaking the air once in a while. she was cold, then. a passing fog that settles into his home, into his bones –––– first, every few weeks, then days, then it was never gone. she was dismissive, her eyes flitting past him carelessly. she was warm, until he existed too loudly, too roughly. he always thought it was his sharp mannerisms that cut, but no. no, it was her jagged edges, disguised as the same smooth skin he used to reach for, that scarred.

then and now, micah’s mother was everything to him. he remembers her in the phantom touch of lips against his forehead, hands tucking blankets further up to hold him where she didn’t. he remembers her warmth, and her weird laugh, and the way she and his father used to dance, back in their happier days. he remembers her coming to his first dance competition, back when he did things for fun and not in the name of escapism. he remembers the light in her eye, and the way he could always lose and find himself in her gaze. he remembers her the way you remember the north star.

in the end, micah was nothing to her. he wonders, sometimes, if she remembered him at all.

[rare-and-beautiful-things]

HC about

Enemies to lovers with the union guys 😭🙏

(You can do other characters in Weak hero, up to ya)

hiii! I'm so sorry I'm answering so late and, well, so little. but i felt like writing something and had a bit of time to do it for the first time in a while, so... yknow, i thought a little something is better than nothing, lol. ahhh and i kind of thought these asks fit really well together, so here we are i guess :) also I'm not sure if it can be described as enemies to lovers, cuz it's a very slowburn trope, so it's more like enemies to... something? I'd love to do more characters sometime, but i cannot imagine when lol. ah and thank you so much for sending an ask with one of my favourite tropes! wishing all of you a nice day 💙💙💙

Enemies to lovers

(Dongha Baek, Wolf Keum)

Dongha Baek

it doesn't start with outright enemies, not really. dongha hears of you first and cannot help but imagine how fun it would be to put you in your place, to see that calm and collected look vanish from your face, changing to anguish, humiliation, fear.

you're a rich kid. you don't need to flaunt it around for him to notice your clothes, casually expensive, either famous brands or handmade eco stuff, to notice your calm demeanor, the nicest perfume he ever got to inhale, the easy way you pay for shit - not looking at the price tag, never haggling, never getting off your high horse.

he hates people like you. what the fuck are you even doing in that got forsaken gang of losers? that's what he'd asked, if he didn't know for sure. you're simply enjoying playing with other people, flaunting your money around, looking down on shitheads ready to do anything to acquire the kind of power you were blessed with from birth.

how he'd love to remind you of your place. sure, you're rich, but he knows from experience how weak rich people truly are. how easily they break, how easily they start trying to buy you, to buy their dignity back with their money. perhaps he should let himself be bought this time, after he gets his fun. then he can play with you again later.

your gang was at the unions throat for a while now, and the fact that you still weren't destroyed was telling. it was telling one thing to most people, but the thing it was telling to dongha baek was: you sorely need to be reminded of your place.

it started like many gang fights do. a bit of shit talking, hands in their pockets, eyes gleaming with malice and mischief. you were in this business for enough time to know where it was going, and while dongha was talking you were silently getting ready.

his first swing was expected, so was the second. he wasn't entirely easy to read, but there was something else - some recklessness, wildness to his moves that set you on edge. he also laughed - all the time. startled laughter when you almost got him, raspy chuckle when you did get him, high pitched ringing laughter when it was you groaning in pain and not him. he was constantly mocking at first, the neverending shit talk, but as the fight continued, there were less and less words.

you were weird. there was something about your eyes, something about your bloody smile that didn't add up with everything he's seen of you till now. there was some hunger in you, some spite buried deep behind your polite smile. some genuine, impossible to fake strength. power.

there wasn't a clear winner that day, and you remember talking shit to each other lying on cold concrete with no strength to get up. you think it was fun and then you think you must've hit your head.

you sure start to see each other more often after that. in the streets, when you're going around for business and when you're resting. he's always trying to get you angry, to start some shit, and sometimes you deflect with polite phrases hiding a biting insult under the surface, sometimes you end up fighting it out.

it's stupid. you feel stupid every time you meet him, like some part of your brain - the reasonable, calm, smart part - shuts off when you see his shit eating grin. you're letting yourself get angry. you're letting yourself get reckless.

you should stop.

you seek him out yourself, ready to put an end to this nonsense. you start it this time, for the first time in forever. he's laughing and talking shit again, and you let it get under your skin despite yourself.

you scream for the first time in forever. it's an ungodly, impolite, weird, embarrassing sound. it's loud and wild. you're screaming and kicking and biting like an animal, because you're furious at that bastard, that pathetic fiend, and you are - you'd let him get under your skin - and you are - in love.

you think it, and it's ringing so terribly final in your head you start laughing.

dongha finally understands, and he laughs with you.

Wolf Keum

you're everything wolf has ever hated. a weak loser acting tough until it's time to get behind your words, to prove yourself. a small time criminal, freelancer on the dark side, kissing Donald's ass right after sweet-talking the union's enemies into a nice deal. two-faced liar and a coward.

wolf cannot help himself when he sees you. how can you act so confident, how can you run your fucking mouth so smoothly when you know - by experience - how it feels to be completely broken down?

by him, nonetheless.

you were (supposed to be) just another one of wolf's many victims. just another one lying before him, all bloody and broken, bloody mouth, broken breath, broken bones for sure, red and beneath the red - yellow and rose blooming into majestic purple. swollen face, swollen hands.

you were - all broken. but you were not - just another one.

you never stopped. you never let what was done to you stop you, you never even truly changed your tactics. you knew no shame. it was so disgusting, so infuriating to wolf that at some point it started to be fun.

every time he needed to do business with you he couldn't pass the chance to play. to remind you: you are weak. worthless. he could tear you up right then and there, and there'd be nothing you could do to stop him.

sometimes it was mild humiliation. some talking down, "remember what fun we had together?", "wanna repeat?", spit on your shoulder, sometimes on your face. other times he's more hands on: grabbing you by the collar of your shirt, snarling in your face, "perhaps i should bite your lips off. would be hard lying without them". and then there are times when he makes you hold his glasses and - "come on. stare at me like you did just now. don't you dare looking away from me, you dipshit" - puts his hand on your throat and squeezes.

you deal with a lot of assholes. it's basically the job description. but none of those other assholes are wolf keum. you've learned to be cold and hard and perfectly smooth like a pebble in the river. do not give a reaction. do not stop smiling. do not take sides. do not go down. do not - the list goes on. you have to be perfect. you have to survive.

wolf never fails to remind you how far from perfect you actually are.

you do not give him any reaction you are able to mask or subdue. it's never anything more than the slightest shiver, the smallest tick - but that's enough. wolf looks intently, and he sees. he grins like a mad dog that needs to be put down.

you do not go after him yourself. you're not that stupid, or brave, or self-assured. no, you do what you do best - you talk to people, you make deals, you exchange one favour for another, until it all falls into place.

you make other people go after him. the strongest guys you were able to talk into it from all over Seoul. all of it, except for the yeongdeungpo. they go, and you wait anxious and excited for the results. when there's finally a phonecall, you take it immediately.

then you hear his voice. it's gruff and low. it says "stay where you are. we'll meet soon enough".

he sends you the photos before coming, before you're able to decide what to do. the photos are shaky and bloody and your stomach turns when you look at them.

and then comes wolf. he's bloody and beaten too, perhaps even more than the guys on the photos, but you know him and he knows you know him: he's a fucking zombie, and he won't let his current condition stop him.

he also knows you. he knows that slightest shiver, that smallest tick. he knows what to expect, he readies himself for your blabbering, for your fucking lies - but you don't open your mouth. not this time.

you ready your fists, and wolf chokes on his laughter. he seems excited, indignant, startled. tired. he's beaten down - but you know that if he grabs you it will be the end. if the punch goes through - it will hurt. so you don't let him grab you or hit you for as long as you can. you find a wire and wrap it around his throat, ready to kill. he grabs you then. he punches you, and it seems you forgot how much it could hurt. it's terrible. you do not let go of the wire though, and the punches become rarer and weaker and then they stop.

wolf doesn't talk to you after that. he lets his minions do his business, and you don't see him for weeks. until suddenly you do.

you prepare for the worst, but he doesn't make a move aside from dragging a cig to and from his lips, inhaling and exhaling the smoke. watching you watching him. there's something new in his eyes - something different from the familiar sick amusement and rage and boredom. something softer, gentler - not like plush or clouds, but like a green sprout only starting to grow, easy to destroy, to kill.

you take a step in his direction, then another one, and another, until you're standing side by side. close. too close. when wolf offers you a cigarette, you take it before you think better. the cigarette is way too strong and bitter, and yet somehow you do not mind.

[vannybarber]

Make Up Your Mind

Summary: You're ready, but Chris is making it seem like he isn't.

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: angst, SMUT, swearing, implied smut, insults.

Your body finally acknowledged the soreness between your legs when you get up to move to Chris' bathroom. You reach for a wash cloth on the rack and clean yourself up. Chris follows behind you with a shit eating grin on his face, clearly reminiscing the previous events.

Chris and you have been friends for about 2 years after working with him in Knives Out. You guys' childish personalities clicked right away and were literally each other's best friends. Only about 7 months back, you boldly told him that you wanted to fuck him. He was nothing less than down and you guys have been friends with benefits ever since.

Well up until recently. You both started acting like real couple. Going out to nice restaurants, touching in public, spending nights at each other houses and visiting each other's families. You both were enjoying the feeling of being together all the time, even without an official label.

Being around him so much grew out even more feelings. Not friendly feelings. But more intimate and longing feelings. To be with him. As his girl. More than just a friend to talk to. More than a nice body to play with.

There had been too many internet speculations asking why you guys don't just date already. Hell, you were asking the same damn question. But unfortunately, you know why. And you hate it.

"That little freaky number you did in there was something else, Y/N. 'Thou art truest freak' in the words of Shakespeare." He laughs, watching for your reaction. You just look at him smiling and shaking your head. The things that come out this man's mouth. You know damn well Shakespeare never said that shit.

"I told you from the start, boo. I know how to put it down." He eagerly agrees, hanging his wash cloth up and checking his fingers.

You observe him through the mirror. His bushy auburn eyebrows furrowed together while he picks at his nails. His sharp narrow nose that you feel against your right cheek everytime you guys make out. His beautiful red lips you've felt in many places on your body, preferably in places your eyes can't see. And his eyes. The ones that hold so much purity and happiness. Those perfect eyes.

This man is everything you want, but he just wasn't ready. That's the catch. That's the thing you absolutely hated. He had major commitment issues and people around you had more of a chance in anything than him ever settling down. It literally caused you physical pain. Because you couldn't change his feelings, no matter how many conversations you guys had or how good you fucked him.

Walking back into the room, you grab your bodycon dress you came over in and put it back on your body. You gather all your other articles of clothes throwing them into your handbag and take it out into his living room. He follows behind you in his grey sweatpants and dark green t-shirt. He always looks so perfect.

You flop on the couch and turn on the T.V.

"You wanna watch The Little Mermaid again, boo?" You turn around looking at him, seeing him raid the cabinets for snacks.

"Do you even have to ask me that?" He yells back when he finds his chips. You chuckle and start the movie.

"NO DON'T START IT YET I'M NOT READYYYY!"

"THEN GET YOUR SLOW ASS OVER HERE!" you yell back at him. His level of immaturity isn't even visible because of how high it is. It's unmatched.

After a few moments, he finds his way on the couch next to you with your double stuffed Oreos and apple juice, passing it to you. He had his veggie sticks cause he's so damn picky.

You both get comfortable and turn your attention to the movie.

After some time, it's the scene were Sebastian is encouraging Eric to kiss Ariel. You wish the real Sebastian would come over and convince Chris to be with you. Maybe he'd listen. Just the thought irritates you.

You huff lowly in annoyance. Chris notices but doesn't say anything. You always got frustrated at this part cause he took FOREVER to finally kiss her. So he brushes it off. Nothing he hadn't seen before.

While the movie was playing, you were getting even more frustrated in that moment. Chris had his arm behind your back and hand resting on your hip, laughing at Flounder. It was like he was playing a game with you that he didn't know he was even apart of. You shifted away from him a little. You hated feeling this way.

Little to your knowledge, Chris was watching you in the corner of his eye. He watched you as your mind raced and move constantly. Your eyes move around a lot when you think hard. He knew something was up.

"Jellybean, what's up?" You turn and look at him, pushing away the feeling the nickname presented you inside. He gave it to you after you bought him a Starburst jellybean gift basket to celebrate the end of you guys' filming.

"What do you mean? I'm fine" you lie right in his face. Like a complete idiot because he can see right through you. You turn back to watch the movie, but he grabs the remote and pauses it.

You roll your eyes, knowing very well he isn't letting this go. Why do you find yourself in these situations? You always end up fishing for trouble and you're not even using bait. It just comes to you. You scratch your head trying to come up with a way to dissolve the situation.

"When are you going to stop trying to lie to me, princess?" Another name he gave you. You prefer it over 'jellybean'. It made your body flutter even more. But at this point, you were tired of faking. Tired of covering up your feelings. Tired of being less than what you wanted to be to him.

Wasting no time, you take a deep breathe and spill.

"You know what Chris? I like you. There. I said it." You slap your hands down on your lap as you spoke.

"And I don't mean as a friend or as a fuck buddy. I've felt this way for a very long time. Even before we started having sex. I thought us doing this would make us closer, possibly forming a relationship."

You glance at him and continue when he doesn't say anything. He just looks at you.

"But it hasn't gone anywhere. I'm tired of faking my feelings towards you. I'm tired of coming over here acting like I just want sex when I want more. Way more."

By the time you finish, your head is down and your fingers are playing with the end of your dress. You cannot bring yourself to look up at him. You couldn't bear the rejection. All you hear are his quiet breaths. You fucked up.

Chris is a real talker. He could talk his ass off for hours into the next day. The fact that he isn't saying anything right now has you absolutely terrified, but ultimately embarrassed. You did this all for nothing.

"Y/N, I- I don't...uh" he stumbles over his words. That's all you needed to hear. You didn't need to bathe in it any longer.

You jump up off the couch, not forgetting to grab the cookies and juice, stick them in your bag and head over to your shoes. Chris is right on your tail calling you, trying to get you to stop.

"Hey princess wait" he calls behind you.

"Chris it's fine. I'm just gonna head home. I'm a little tired." Your soreness was the last of your worries, barely even feeling it anymore. You made an absolute fool of yourself and now you couldn't go back. It was a done deal.

"Come on, baby. I didn't mean to-"

"Chris!" You raise your voice at him. He shuts his mouth right away. Your shoes are on and keys in hand. "Its okay. I just don't feel good. I'll call you later. Tomorrow maybe."

You block out anything else he was saying and step out the door heading to your car. He didn't even try to stop you. He fucked up and it didn't need to get messier than it already was. He watched in guilt as you pull out his driveway and down the street.

You drive in complete silence. Normally, you'd be blasting Partition on the way after getting dicked down, but that was not the case. And it wouldn't be for a while.

Part 2 coming really soon 🤩!