#he gets mistaken as a tourist so much and he fucking hates it hes like. just bc i have dark skin doesnt mean im a TOURIST

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

I NEED to hear abt biracial Izaya!!!

but I also need to know wtf an Almond Mom is

-💛

OKAY SO i actually did a thread over on the dead bird webbedsite on biracial izaya BUT FIRST TO ANSWER YER QUESTION: an almond mom is a mom that's super into weight loss and diet culture, to the point of rarely (if ever) buying anything "sugary" or "processed" for her kids, and encouraging restrictive eating habits in them. its derived from the phrase "a handful of almonds is a snack!!!" which is what a lot of these moms say. my mom was an almond mom and for instance i was VERY punished when i drank sunny d once. and i didnt get any like, standard Kid Cereals for a verrryyyyy long time. and she encouraged me to start counting calories.....while i was literally like. just starting to recover from anorexia. so yeah fuck almond moms

so this is the original thread i did on biracial izaya; turns out the info abt dual citizenship exceptions is a Fucking Lie because i mustve misinterpreted something while looking it up at ass o clock in the morninge

so the general idea is, izaya's biracial and darkskinned, but just.... doesnt mention it? at all? he likes to believe that people think he just tans well, but he's..... too dark for it to be a tan, especially a natural tan. and god knows the man does NOT spend enough time in the sun to get a tan

he still wears silver jewelry even though he looks way better in gold, as a way to distance himself from his heritage. he could know everything he wanted or even go to the damn country himself, but he doesn't because What's The Point, he never really knew much about it because his parents were too absentee to teach him, so he thinks what's the point! but a part of him does wonder if it'll make him feel more "at home" somewhere.... but he pushes the idea out of his mind lmfao!!!!!!!

as a kid he was really mad that he was biracial and yet hasn't ever actually been to iran, his parents were too busy being moonies with their business trips to bother actually taking him there ever. izaya knows he has a lot of family members there but he doesnt know shit or dicks about them- again he could easily look this stuff up and find out, but he thinks "what's the point"

though i think its because of his own closed-offness wrt his own emotions, plus he doesn't want to realize that the rest of his family is as shitty as his parents- he'd rather not touch it and wonder every so often, than spend valuable time and emotional vulnerability trying and it blowing up in his face!!!

also fwiw: his dad's japanese his mom's iranian, in this hc. (or maybe shes also biracial?) if shes biracial it means izaya's a quarter iranian, which he could go "its just a quarter who cares lol" and it could contribute to him feeling like he'd be an impostor if he did get more into the culture, since he's """"barely iranian"""

[bhsiwoo]

heylo again! this is xydo (juyeon's mun) bringing you my second muse and oldest son, jeong siwoo, the owner of eternity. he's a bit more on the tragic side of my muse spectrum but i hope you love him as much as i do! read under cut for more info and hit the like button if you'd be keen to interact!

dossier / bio / plot / moodboard

BASICS !

jeong siwoo, thirty years old, a widow of three years now and the famous owner of eternity.

he is someone who knows and is well aware of his growing entrepreneurship and wealth amongst society. needless to say, he doesn't fear the main three house but that doesn't mean he wants to fuck around with them. he draws a professional line with the three houses (or basically anyone per say) and does not have any interpersonal relationships with anyone from those household, mainly because it saves him the headache of any unwarranted drama. he does however enjoy tea ceremonies hosted by yeon and is well aware of who is behind yeon but doesn't snitch due to their mutual business relationships (siwoo enjoys teas and tea ceremonies but offers no gossips. yeon gets to host his ceremonies at eternity's private room in exchange).

tw / death. he was in an arranged marriage with his now deceased wife when they were both twenty four and twenty five respectively. despite it being arranged, they were both very much in love. his belated wife passed away just roughly two years into their marriage from being medically poisoned. she was also in her fifth month term of pregnancy.

in present time, he's being pressured to remarry so that there's an heir to inherit eternity but siwoo has no plans to remarry anyone due to his deep infatuation and remorse over his belated wife. instead, he's secretly seeking for adoption of a possible heir or to bring in a mentee whom he will name as an heir. (wanted connection!)

backgrounds on eternity: siwoo was in his late seventeen when he inherited the no name hotel from his late father, leaving him an orphan as well. the no name hotel is then revamped by seventeen year old siwoo who then renamed it to be [eternity]. it's a miracle how eternity managed to get its fame that there were rumors that siwoo had been associated to shamans, people who practice dark magic/supernatural beings, or even that he lured people to his property. others have said that when a nearby prince who had been undercover/traveling to beonhwa had fallen sick, it was whatever is going on at eternity that the royalty recuperated well. no one truly had known how eternity had got its fame especially after the change in reign, and siwoo refuses to budge when prompted or asked to comment on the rumors. what matters now is that the reservation list will always be occupied and unless you know siwoo personally, one may have to wait even over a year to be able to stay at eternity for even just a day.

INTERACTIONS !

siwoo can be found in formal events amongst the main houses, or even cultural/private events that is hosted by the orchid opera houses. he hates attending formal events but has to 'show his face' out of courtesy when required, whereas he enjoys the later since his late wife was fond of performances, particularly involving traditional korean instruments. it would be nice to write a plot where he gets called out on attending formal events where he shows his disdain as much as he hides it, or alternatively if y our muse and him would somehow always be seatmates for shows at the opera house!

honorable guests at eternity. while he owns it, it doesn't necessarily mean he's there 24/7; trusting his management and staff well for things to be in control. finding him there is a sort of an honor which your muse is bestowed? casual conversation, or even attempts of flirts (for muses above twenty seven) ensues? alternatively: he gets mistaken as a guest in his own busi and your muse thinks he's a tourist, hence an impromptu travel guide around beonhwa

someone who looks up to him and wants him to be a mentor or sort (without the naming of heir part)

down the line, a possible fling or someone he has fwb with (for muses that are 27-30), will have to work on trust and chemistry for this

alternative take, your muse having a harmless crush on him that's definitely one-sided and won't be reciprocated by siwoo if you want to sign your muse up for some angst

someone he has business-to-societal benefits with. your muse who makes an appearance with him as his plus one to boost their own name/social standing while he gets insight on the main family/things that could boost eternity's standing and profit.

someone who constantly sees him by the beach alone, wondering why he comes here so often to stare at the scenery before leaving without doing anything in particular) a rather personal angst plot which involves talks of death

someone who thinks of him as a friend? and alternatively, a take where they no longer are friends especially after his late wife passed.

maybe someone who visually resembles his wife a lot and that makes him delirious in a way? (don't particularly need to be a romance connection) but will def go for the angst route

someone from the main house that he works with for a mutual benefit relationship with between siwoo helping the house and them helping with eternity's fame and profit

[adrenaline-roulette]

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word Count: 8K+ (She’s a doozy!) Warnings: Language, angst, very basic medical procedures *Disclaimer: Hey again guys, so sorry about the delay with this chapter. But I’ll admit, I actually got this posted a lot sooner than I thought I would! So kudos to me I guess? I just want to say a huge thank you to all of those who have been with this story since the beginning, and those who have joined us along the way. This isn’t the end of this story, but I just want to let you all know how much you all mean to me.  And please remember, if you read this story and you like it, give it a like, a comment and maybe even a reblog if you think your followers may like it? I know there isn’t much happening in the 6 Underground fandom these days, but the only way to keep it alive, is if people keep reading and writing for the characters!

All my love my dudes ❤❤❤

Probably best if you check out the other chapters first..... One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Chapter Eleven: Don’t let me fall, at least not alone

“Four? Can you hear me?” Billy felt weak, and highly disoriented. His head was spinning, as if he actually was fighting a migraine, unlike the one he was supposed to be faking…. Faking, why was he faking a migraine again? “Four, stay with us!” The voice continued calling out, though why was this person yelling out a number? A name sure, he could understand that. But calling out random numbers? That just served to confuse him more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” This was a new voice now, one which sounded just as Billy’s eyes had slowly drifted closed against the harsh fluorescent lights above him. How strange, surely these people weren’t addressing him were they?

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” The same voice from before was firing orders, her voice holding an edge of fear and concern. Suddenly a shadow appeared above his closed eyes, and carefully he peeled them open, relieved to not be greeted with bright lights, and instead by a shadowed figure. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.” She was whispering to him, or at least that’s what it sounded like. Though it was hard to be sure, especially as he struggled to keep his eyes from falling shut once more.

How had things turned out like this? The last thing he could recall, was speaking with a woman dressed in white at a reception desk. Then it had all gone blank for him.

*****

You paced around the small living room of the house you had all been calling base for the past few weeks, sucking in deep breath after deep breath, all the while clutching your arms around yourself in a tight embrace. “Nope, I can’t do it. I cannot do this guys!”

Two looked up at you from her gossip magazine, having taken great pleasure in the abundance of French reading material. She was the only one of you in the group to have settled into your temporary accommodation, and was fitting in with the locals perfectly. Rolling her eyes at your outburst, she returned to her reading. It wasn’t that she was being unsupportive, far from it actually. It was just that she had reached her limit of words of support, forty odd minutes ago, at the beginning of your breakdown.

“Yes, you can. You know you can! We’ve been over the plan hundreds of times now, everything is in place. Weapons are stored in the hospital, the Lushnick’s are there, we’ve seen them! Everything is working out according to plan. Four will be on his way to Emergency within a few hours, then it’s all up to us. We can’t leave him.” It was One’s turn to play reassurer this time around, and he was the first to raise Four as if knowing it would get a rise out of you.

You whirl on the spot, eyes growing wide and pupils blown. “I never suggested we leave Four! I ju– I just don’t know if this mission is a good idea is all?”

One sighed, squaring his shoulders before smoothing his hands down his turquoise scrubs. “Eight, if you had one shot, or one opportunity. To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment, would capture it? Or just let it slip?”

You stare at One, blinking slowly as silence fills the room. “Is – Was that Eminem?” You stammer, shaking your head gently, as if to clear the fog which had settled there. Surely you were mistaken, One couldn’t be quoting Lose yourself, right?....

“Does it make it any better or worse knowing this isn’t the first time he’s used that as a motivational speech?” Seven grins, winking at you impishly.

“I think what makes it worse is knowing that no matter what reaction he got last time, he still decided to try it again!”

“Touché, and dude, get yourself a better speech already!” Seven smirks, patting One on the shoulder as he walks by and towards the kitchen. His uniform shirt half buttoned as he goes.

“Why does everyone know that song straight away?” One groans, looking genuinely confused.

“Because it’s the bloody 2020’s! And not to hate on Slim or anything, but for the love of god, replace your ipod shuffle, and listen to some new music. Please!” You plead, as the startling thought of One thinking lose yourself was a new song creeped its way into your mind, causing you to shudder.

Five steps out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing out behind her. Looking like the absolute goddess she is, with her hair wrapped in a fluffy towel, and a robe concealing her, she fixes you with a strong look. “Eight. You are ready for this. Upon our first mission, we were all terrified. But we pulled through, one way or another we did what needed to be done, and look where we are now. I know what you’re feeling, we all do. We’ve all been there, trust me. But the only way this will work, the only way we will be able to get to the Lushnick’s, is if we stick together and work this mission just as we’ve planned. That means all of us. We can’t be a member short, not this time.” Without waiting for your response, Five walks away, closing a bedroom door behind her.

You have no response, no witty retort. Nothing. Not that it would matter, Five wasn’t there to hear it anyway. Chewing on your bottom lip, you turn back to One, who still looked somewhat put out by your ipod comment. “Has anyone seen my uniform?”

*****  

Just after 11am, Billy made his way to the hospital and into the Emergency department, cradling his head between his palms, and groaning in mock agony. His earpiece was safely tucked in his ear, providing him contact with his team. Contact which he had been severely missing these past few weeks. At first it had been bearable, what with your secret texts on your burner phone. But when One had arrived at the safe house, it had been harder to sneak messages, until finally they had ceased all together. But hearing your voice now, ringing through his ears, he felt like he was home. Despite walking into a hospital.

“Genevieve Lushnick is on the move. Last seen leaving Ward 11A.” You advise everyone.

“She finished her rounds in Paediatrics much earlier, not sure where she’s headed now.” Five recalls, the sounds of crying infants in the background of her voice.

“Usually her roster would have her checking on Geriatrics in Ward 7B next. But She’s already been there. That was her second visit of the day.” Seven advises, though he sounds confused. To be fair, so does everyone else. Genevieve was changing up her routine, something she hadn’t done at all during their surveillance of her. So why now?

“Hold on, let me see if I can track her down through the live camera feeds.” You suggest, the sounds of your fingers flying across a keyboard breaking the silence which followed.

Billy’s concentration on the conversation happening in his ear is cut off by a woman dressed in white sat at the Emergency reception desk. A nurse from the looks of her. “Bonjour, comment puis-je vous aider?” She blinks wide amber eyes up at Billy, who stares back confusedly.

“Uh, En-English?” A part of him wants to chastise himself for not learning French for this mission. But knowing he was playing the part of a tourist he allowed himself some leeway in the preparation department.

The nurse smiles further, though the more teeth she shows the more forced it looks. “Of course. How may I help you today sir?”

“I just flew in a few days ago, and I have an awful headache. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. All lights are too bright, I feel weak, my head is pounding, and I feel nauseas.”

“Has this just begun, or is this an ongoing issue?”

“No, it just started this morning. I took a couple of paracetamol to help when I woke up, but they’ve done nothing.”

The nurse nods her head, looking down at her computer, as Billy adds in a groan for effect. Just as the nurse asks for personal details, One appears from the behind the desk. “Goodness, what’s wrong with this man? He looks like death on two legs!”

Billy repeats what he had just told the nurse, with One nodding along, and playing every part the good doctor. “You need to be seated immediately. Someone, bring me a wheelchair!” One calls in the direction of the wardsmen who are stood around the waiting room. “Jennifer, you need to be more familiar with signs of a migraine. This young man, what was your name sir?”

“James.” Billy moans, falling back into the wheelchair once it appears behind him, laying his head back for added effect.

“Yes, James could have collapsed at any moment. Please be more mindful next time.” One warns, a harsh glare in his eyes directed at the young nurse.

“O-of course Doctor Cleavers. It won’t happen again.”

Billy can barley contain his smirk at the sound of One’s alias, covering his attempted chuckle with a well-timed groan.

“Does anyone have eyes on Gregory?” Two whispers harshly into her earpiece, causing Billy to flinch slightly, just as one does the same. Christ, Two needs to keep her tone down!

It’s Three’s turn to respond first now, who sounds quite proud of himself as he speaks. “He’s up in theatres, doing God knows what to God knows who.” The sound of a trolley filled with rattling dishes being pushed, barely making his mumbled voice audible.

One moves around behind Billy, kicking up the brake on the wheelchair, and pushing him towards the swipe pass activated doors, leading to the Emergency treatment area. The deafening silence flowing through both his and Billy’s earpieces cause the two men to glance at each other nervously.

“How long ago did you see Gregory heading to theatres?” You ask, an edge of worry hinting at your tone.

Yet another long pause, until. “During breakfast rounds… I suppose two hours ago, maybe?” Three no longer sounds sure of himself, which sets in a sinking feeling in all those on the team.

“He was scheduled to finish surgery one hour ago. Has anyone seen him this past hour?” You snap back, perhaps more of a bite in your words than you had intended.

“Negative.” Replies One in a quiet voice, while smiling at fellow doctors as he pushed Billy.

“No.” That was Two.

“Nope.” Five now, who had been awfully quiet so far.

“Neither.” Three mumbles, likely feeling as dejected as he sounded.

“Well you know I haven’t.” Billy smirks. It was a risk him speaking to the group like this, but currently with his head tilted back, and staring up at the ceiling as he was being wheeled down a corridor, no one really paid any attention to him.

“I’ve only seen Genevieve. The two haven’t been together all morning sorry.” Seven whispers.

“Fuck me…” You breathe out, slamming your fists down on the desk. “I can’t see either of them on the live feeds!”

Carefully, Billy lifts his head once again, turning over his shoulder to peer up at One, who was frowning and staring dead ahead.  “Is there a problem Doctor Cleavers?” He mumbles, keeping the act up for anyone who may pass.

“There very well may be.” One mutters, only glancing down at Billy for a brief moment.

The two continue down the corridor for another few minutes, the bright clinical lights beginning to bring on a genuine headache for Billy now. Finally, they come to a stop in a large treatment room, multiple beds lining the walls, all encircled by blue curtains. Some had been drawn for patient’s privacy, while others remained opened. In the centre of the room was a large desk where Nurses and Doctors hurried to and from, collecting and depositing various prescriptions and clinical orders. “James, are you able to stand to bring yourself over to the bed?” One asks, raising his voice enough to somewhat put on a show for those nearby.

The temptation to ask One to pick him up is almost too great to pass up, but knowing that somehow it would come back to haunt him, Billy opts for standing himself. “I think I can manage, thank you Doc.” Standing slowly, Billy pivots on the spot, and shuffles over to the bed, hoisting himself up and laying back.

“We’ll need to bring your fluids up, I’m worried about you becoming dehydrated. We’ll need to cannulate you. Have you ever had a cannula before?”  One asks, waving for a nurse to come and assist him.

“No, I don’t think I have.”  

“Not to worry, it’s relatively quick and painless.”

The nurse hurries over, and listens as One fires orders at him, orders which he had picked up from watching medical shows, mostly scrubs…. “We need James on a drip ASAP, get that started now!”

“Right away Doctor Cleavers.” The nurse agrees, before moving off to grab the necessary equipment.

Billy turns his attention to One, raising his eyebrows in concern. “Are you seriously going to stick a needle in me?” He hisses, emerald eyes flashing in fear.

One shrugs lightly, turning away from Billy to keep an eye out for the nurse. “Well, I’m not going to be injecting you. Can’t say the same for the nurse though.”

Billy wants to scream, at no stage during the briefings had there been any mention of him having a needle jabbed into him! Hell, if there had been any discussions of such a thing, he likely would’ve backed out! Perhaps that was why there was no mention? The nurse reappears, and preps his work station, all the while One, or Doctor Cleavers stays around to supervise the proceedings, occasionally chiming in with his theories as to what the cause for his sudden pain could be.

“Four! One! They’re coming!” Your voice breaks through the stinging sensation of the needle, panic flying through Billy’s veins. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for-” Your voice is broken by puffing breaths, and the sound of your feet pounding on the tiles as you sprint from somewhere else in the hospital.

“Emergency.” Billy finishes, as the two people who he had been staring at photographs of for months now, strut into the treatment room, patients and doctors alike parting like the red sea as the couple head towards Billy and One. Four sets of eyes meet, and no member of either team is willing to break concentration.

“We’ve been expecting you.” Genevieve grins, her canine teeth almost too pointed, like fangs brushing against her ruby painted lips.

“Thank you, Eric, you’ve done a wonderful job here.” Gregory turns to the nurse and nods his head, the nurse returning the gesture and leaving the group.

“Eight for Four, come in Four!” Your voice shouts in his ear, causing Billy to flinch away.

“Ah, that must be the rest of your team I take it? Not to worry, we have our people taking care of them as we speak.” Genevieve shrugs, before turning to One. “Seeing as you’re so good at playing Doctor, you’ll be pushing your friend. He won’t be awake much longer. I would hate for him to collapse.”

At these words, Billy shoots up on the bed, his head spinning as he does so. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Genevieve waves him off, her nails painted the same shimmering ruby as her lips. “Surely you don’t expect me to give away our secrets? That’s not how people like us work.”

One steps behind Billy’s bed, and begins driving it forwards, following behind the Lushnick’s with a scowl. Billy could see the wheels in his mind turning, as he tried to formulate a plan of escape, though from every way he looked at it, they were pretty well fucked. He could feel his body growing tired, and his mind becoming clouded and dazed, whatever they had given him, it was taking over his body quickly, and any minute now he would be useless to the team.

*****

Fuck! The entire team had lost the Lushnick’s! How did that even happen? Seven was supposed to be trailing them, he had been doing so every other day perfectly, but what the fuck had gone wrong today? Your fingers fly across the keyboard, frantically switching between all the cameras in the hospital. Some provided a live feed, while others only offered playback, but at this point in time you would take what you could get. Window after window pops open on your monitor, squinting at the slightly pixelated images to try and identify who was being filmed.

“There!” You practically scream, causing one of the guards walking past your office to jump, turning a concerned look your way. “Sorry, just uh – finally got a fly that’s been harassing me all morning.” You blurt out, though with a shrug, the guard walks on, either having bought the lie or not caring enough to question it further. You gaze back at the image on your screen, it was from one of the playback cameras. Both Gregory and Genevieve were spotted seven minutes ago in one of the staff only corridors, leading between the imaging department and emergency. “Seven minutes…. How long does it take to get there?”

“Three! Come in Three!”

“Bloody hell, no need to yell Eight. What is it?”

“On your delivery route, how long does it usually take to get between X-ray and Emergency?”

Three pauses to think, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he does so. “Roughly twenty minutes.”

“We’re fucked.”

“What? What does that mean?!”

You ignore the frantic questions streaming from Three, the others shortly joining in with their own confusion. But you didn’t have time to address their concerns, right now there was only one thing on your mind. Beating the Lushnick’s to the Emergency room. With your heart hammering in your chest, and breathing coming out in desperate gasps you turn back to your computer, snaking your way into the hospital power grid.

You know how to do this, it’s just like what you did for your museum heist way back when you had met One. But for some reason, your brain can’t seem to summon the image of what you need to do. You could try a keyboard smash now that you’re in the controls, but that could seriously damage literally everything… “Come on, just think dammit.” You snarl at yourself, clasping your hands into fists, and pressing them against your temples.

Eyes springing open, you fix a harsh glare at the blinking screen before you, asking for a password. “Y’all Lushnick’s are fucked.” The password it simple to guess, trust the Lushnick’s to use their fucking last name as a password. They may be smart in what they do, but they sure as hell know nothing about internet security. The screen turns black, with a 3D model of the hospital slowly building itself on your screen. With each scroll of your mouse, the model shifts, and enlarges to a new section of the hospital.  A blinking blue bar in the top left of the screen offers a text space, and going on a hunch, you type in ‘Geriatrics’ and press enter. The model disintegrates into tiny pixels, before rebuilding just the section you had searched. “Brilliant…” You whisper to yourself.

The geriatrics ward of the hospital consisted of one main power source, with a backup which would boot up and provide energy to the most necessary equipment and lights in the event of the main grid failing. “Five for Eight, come in?”

“Eight here, what’s going on?”

“I’m being followed. There’s security blocking off just about every exit on this floor, and no matter where I go, there’s someone behind me, or waiting for me.”

“Has anyone else got this issue?” You call out, eagerly awaiting replies. There’s a resounding yes in response, with the only discrepancy coming from Seven.

“A couple of guards caught up to me in 11B, they’ve brought me along to help catch the infiltrators.”

“So they don’t know you’re a part of this?”

“Seems like it. And from what I gather, they aren’t onto you either…”

“Perfect, Seven stay with your team. There’s about to be a Code Blue in geriatrics. I’ll put the call through to all security to get to the ward, that should give the rest of you time to escape. Rendezvous in Staff corridor D.”

You don’t wait to hear the replies from your team, once again your body working quicker than your mind. Your hands already working on shutting down the power to the Geriatrics ward. You should feel worse than you do, you were putting innocent people’s lives at risk. But the one thing which had been drilled into you from the begging was, the team comes first wherever possible. It was Seven who insisted on this. But who were you to argue with him?

Your eyes are glued to your screen as you watch a warning light appear over the 3D model you had been working with. ‘WARNING! Main power grid will be turned off. WARNING!’ It was rather polite of the system to warn you of the damage you were about to inflict, however the flashing red image did little to stop you. With one final mouse click, a new pop up appeared on your screen. This one somehow even more urgent, despite no red flashing lights. ‘WARNING! Main power grid for geriatrics has now been turned off. Back up system now operating.’ An alarm was blaring throughout your office, warning you and all security who remained nearby of a system failure. “All units. Repeat, all units to Geriatric ward immediately. Power failure. All units report.” You instruct through the P/A system.” Instantly, you watch as two security guards’ race past your office, down the hall and towards the stairwell.

“Five, have they gone? Can you get out?” You ask carefully, keeping your voice low in case of any security stragglers.

“Yeah, they’ve all gone now. Jesus Eight, what kind of a system failure did you make?” You can hear her laughing now, though you know the doctor side of her is genuinely concerned as to what chaos you had caused.

“Nothing that should cause any real harm, but it’s done the trick.” You smirk, locking your computer and stepping out of the office.

You knew the security alert wouldn’t deter the Lushnick’s, hell even if the building was on fire, you doubt they would stray from their current target. But if your calculations were correct, you still had at least five minutes to warn One and Four of their impending arrival. Your heavy combat boots pound against the tiles, sprinting your way towards corridor D, praying the others would already be there, or at least arriving soon. Pressing your index finger against your earpiece, your voice sounding frantic even to you. “Four! One! They’re coming!”. They had time, they had to have time….. But with no response from either, you try again. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for Emergency!”

Nothing, not a single word from Four or One. This wasn’t right, they were supposed to have time still, plenty of time to get out of Emergency and meet you and the team. But as you round the corner to Staff corridor D, there’s no One, and sure as hell no Billy. “Thank God you got here alright!” Five gasps, running over to you and wrapping her arms around you. You had never known her to be much of a hugger, but you suppose high stakes situations like this could change a person. Checking over her shoulder you spot Three, Seven, and Two all talking amongst themselves. “Where’re Four and One?” You ask timidly, stepping away from Five’s embrace slowly, and looking between her and the rest of the team.

No one seems inclined to answer you, which only serves to send a deep chill down your spine, and for a solid mass to feel as if it had been lodged in your throat. Pressing on your earpiece again, you try calling for the two again. “Eight for Four and One, come in both of you.”

There’s again no reply, and your heart feels like it’s being strangled. “I heard some of the guards talking. There was talk of a couple of intruders being found…” Seven begins, his dark eyes meeting yours, with a look which could only be described as true sympathy.

Sharp, electric static echoes through your teams ears, all earpieces but yours going haywire for five seconds, before silence once more. “What the fuck was that?” Three snarls, ripping the piece out and glaring at it between his large fingers.

An all too familiar voice speaks slowly now in your ear, but as you look around you realise this voice was only speaking to you. No one else could hear her. “Well, who do we have here. You’re not the Doctor, I would recognise her voice anywhere. And you’re obviously not the French one, unless you’ve managed to disguise your accent, which I truly doubt. So who are you…”

“I’m not playing any of your sick little games Genevieve. Where is the rest of my team?” You hiss, causing the others to look up and over to you.

“Eight? What’s going on?” Two asks carefully, stepping towards you slowly.

“Who are you talking to? Three asks, lifting his brows up.

“Ah, see. There’s the French one! I knew you had to be someone else! Eight was it? Oh how interesting. So what, did another one of your team die? Is that why you’re here?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m not someone’s replacement.”

“Oh aren’t you? Well that just makes this even more special then doesn’t it? Tell me, which one of these charming young men is Four who you seem so concerned about? Is it this ruggishly handsome tall fellow who keeps glaring at me? Or is it the pretty blonde, with the gorgeous green eyes, who’s having a hard time staying awake right now?” It’s an involuntary reaction, but at the mention of Four, your breath catches in your throat, causing a small gasp to escape your lips. “Ah, the blonde it is..”

“What have you done to him? What can’t he stay awake?”

“My my, so many questions! If you didn’t want anything to happen to him, then maybe you shouldn’t have used him a bait silly little girl!”

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I suppose I could tell you, it would be rather enjoyable to see the look on your face as we operate on him, while there’s nothing you can do about it…”

You don’t wait to hear anymore, ripping the earpiece out and throwing it as far down the corridor as possible. “Theatres. The Lushnick’s have Four and One. They’re about to do something to Four.” You gasp out, barely able to catch your breath, as tears prick the backs of your eyes.

“Shhh, Eight it’s going to be fine, I promise.” Five offers, soothing her palm down your back gently.

“Don’t you dare make empty promises.” You growl, shaking her off and racing down the hall, towards the stairwell.

*****  

“What have you given him?” One growls, glaring between both the Lushnick’s and Four who lay on an operating table, barely moving and occasionally groaning. He rattled his arm against the handcuffs which kept him bound to a side railing. He was completely useless, both to himself and to his teammate.

Genevieve turned to him now, regarding him with a cold stare. “I hardly see why that matters now? You can’t do anything to help him, especially not in your current predicament.” She chuckles darkly, before turning her attention back to Gregory. The man barely spoke a word, but the sick sadistic smile which had been growing across his lips these past few minutes, was enough for One to get a better sense of his character.

“At least tell me what you’re going to do to him!” One tries again. He was running out of questions, and by the looks of things, time too. He had hoped he would be able to keep the Lushnick’s occupied long enough for you and the rest of the team to get here, but ever since Genevieve finished her conversation with you, she seemed all the more eager to get this started.

“Well that’s the fun part. Greg doesn’t know yet! Here’s how this works. Greg cuts the patient open, has a bit of a poke and prod around. Takes out what he wants, and then stitches ‘em back up! You never know what will be taken!” Genevieve grins, pressing a red kiss to Gregory’s cheek, who only grins broader.

One has to fight back to urge to both vomit, and throw punches, instead opting to glare at the duo. “You’re both sick, and you’re going to rot in hell once we’re through with you!”

Genevieve waves him off, turning her attention to Four, who was more unconscious than conscious now. Though he occasionally made a slight jolt, or mumbled a quiet sentence. “Should we wait until he is a bit more under before beginning the procedure?”

Gregory turned to her, lifting a brow in curiosity. “And risk the others getting here, before it’s too late for them to rescue him?”

Just as his words die off, a loud crash against the operating theatre door causes both Doctor’s to glance towards the sound. The crash was quickly followed by another, before a gunshot can be heard echoing throughout the circular room, the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground following. “Greg…..” Genevieve whispers, turning to the Doctor, as the double doors slam open. The metallic hingers screeching under the sudden movement.

“Where the fuck is my boyfriend?” You scream, pistol raised, and aimed directly at Genevieve Lushnick.  Seven and Three stand beside you, each holding a gun of their own, with Three aimed at the nurses in the theatre, and Seven poised to fire upon Gregory. Two and Five stand either side of them, aiming at the guards behind them who were writhing on the ground, though they both remained vigilant for any further arrivals.

Gregory lifts a scalpel and hovers it directly above Four’s abdomen, poised and ready to cut. “Ah, you must be Eight.” Genevieve grins, taking a careful step towards you, as Gregory lowers the scalpel closer to Four’s bare skin.

Seven aims at the wall just above where Gregory stands, the bullet ripping a hole in the sterile room, causing Gregory to jump back almost an entire foot. “Don’t even think about trying that again.” Seven hisses, fixing the Doctor with a glare.

“Now now, there will be no need for violence.” Genevieve begins, before taking a look at the guards who were slowly bleeding out in the entry way. “At least, no more violence that is.” She steps forwards again, fixing you with an interested eye. “My goodness you look familiar. Have we met before?”

“I’m positive I would recall meeting someone as wicked and vile as you.” You spit, keeping your pistol trained on your target, your eyes following her every step.

“Hm, yes I suppose so.” You were now engaged in an odd type of dance, Genevieve was slowly circling around you, and you followed her every move, moving in a circle on the spot. “This is where the negotiations begin, I imagine.”

“There will be no negotiations. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we take you to the authorities who will make sure you both rot in a prison cell for the rest of your sorry lives.”

Genevieve shakes her head no, still walking in her slow circle around you. From an outside perspective, it was that of a lion circling its prey, though to your perspective, you had the upper hand. Or at least, you had the weapon. “No, you see that doesn’t work for us.”

“Fine. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we kill you both right here, right now.”

Genevieve shakes her head again, looking over to Gregory who was clutching the scalpel for dear life. “Eight, something’s wrong…” One calls, looking over to Four. The young man was beginning to convulse on the operating table. His skin was flushed in tiny pinprick sized red dots, and his chest was rising and falling in rapid laboured breaths.

You chance a glance over to Four, and your heart stops. Something was horrendously wrong. “Five, go check on him!” You screech, turning your full attention back on Genevieve as Five races past you. In a split second, you pocket your gun in the back of your jeans, and lurch forwards, fists griping into the collar of Genevieve’s shirt. You hold the fabric with such ferocity the seams popping in her shirt is almost audible, but your blood is pumping too loudly in your ears for you to hear. “Tell me what you gave him!” You’re practically screaming now, directly in her face, yet Genevieve doesn’t seem phased at all. She was used to outbursts such as this, granted they were typically from a grieving mother or father, and not someone threatening her life, but none the less, it felt like just another day in the office.

“Not until we strike a deal!”

There’s only one thing running through your mind as your eyes lock onto Genevieve’s, the training fight you had had with Three all those months ago. Only this time, there was no one fighting back, you had the power. Your leg steps behind Genevieve’s left, and you sweep out with your entire weight, releasing her collar just as her knees gives way and buckle beneath her weight, and she crumbles to the ground bellow you, her back smacking the hard tiled floor with a crack. Instantly, you’re on top of her, kneeling down against her stomach and pinning her to the ground.

“You bitch!” She shrieks, coughing as she attempts to regain the breath you had knocked out of her, though with almost your entire weight leaning into her now, it was unlikely she would.

“I’m terribly sorry. I guess I lost my footing.” You smirk, pressing your knee harder against her. Causing Genevieve to cry out in pain.

Gregory races forwards, his scalpel dropping to the ground in his haste. “Get off of her!” He calls, wrapping her palms over your shoulders and attempting to tear you away.

Three steps in, shoulder barging him in the stomach and sending the Doctor crashing to the ground beside his wife.

“Guys! I think Four’s having a severe allergic reaction to whatever concoction he was pumped full of!” Five yells, a stethoscope looped around her neck, as her frantic eyes meet yours. “Is he allergic to anything you know of?”

You stare back at Five, your mind going completely blank, you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Surely Four would’ve told you if he had any allergies, right? And perhaps he had done just that, but standing here now, with all hope resting on your shoulders, you couldn’t think of a single thing which may be useful in this situation. Shaking your head, a growing sense of dread filling you, as the rest of the team remain silent. “I- I don’t know….”

“I can give him an Epipen, but I need to know what he’s either had, or what he’s allergic to so I can get him the proper antidote!”

Tearing your eyes away from Five, you look over to One, who not only felt but looked entirely useless, chained to a handrail on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes searching his for an answer. Your mission was to capture the Lushnick’s, and right now, that was exactly what you had done. But if you kept them as they were now, as prisoners, Four could die….. Was that a sacrifice you were willing to make?

All One could offer was a gentle half smile, shrugging his shoulders slightly in his compromising position. He couldn’t offer you an answer, hell you couldn’t even offer yourself an answer….

Carefully, you release some of the pressure from Genevieve’s stomach, just enough for her to look up at you in surprise, blinking wide eyes up at you. “Tell me what you gave him, and we’ll let you both go.” You mutter, fighting back the urge to swallow back your own words.

A wicked smirk unravels over Genevieve’s lips. The kind of smirk which one would associate with a wicked stepmother, or evil queen from a Disney film. “Deal.” You release more pressure from your hold on her, until she can breathe properly once more, and Three steps away from Gregory, giving the man a swift boot to the hip just to make his point. “We gave him a combination of penicillin, general anaesthetic, codeine…” Genevieve stands, as does Gregory, both stepping backwards towards the door. Your team moving out of their way upon looking at you for clarification. No one wanted to move, that much was obvious in the frantic looks the others were throwing your way. But at the same time, they all knew the price they would have to pay if they kept the Lushnick’s as they were now. A price no one was prepared for.

“There was some paracetamol mixed in too….” Genevieve continues. They were at the doorway now, hand in hand, gazing behind themselves to make sure the way was clear. “Hm, what else?”

“Gosh, I just can’t recall.” Gregory shrugs, an evil smirk crawling its way over his lips. His eyes glowing with malice. “I simply have no idea what ese they’re may have been!” He calls with enthusiasm, before both pivot on the spot, racing from the theatre.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You shriek, your sight going red as you sprint after them down the corridor, pulling your gun out as you give chase. Genevieve looks at you over her shoulder as they reach the stairwell, regarding you with a look of familiarity.

“Eight! Eight, it’s not worth it!” Two yells from the doorway, watching you with a deep concern. She knew what you were capable of, your whole team did, but not the Lushnick’s. And from the looks of things, they didn’t care either. You stop halfway down the corridor, releasing the safety on your pistol and firing three shots at the door Gregory hand his hand pressed against. He jumps backwards in shock, glaring back at you, pure fury masking his features.

“Yes Eight, listen to your friend. She seems to be the brains of this group. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt now would we?” Genevieve snarls, baring too many teeth to be considered even remotely friendly.

Aiming the pistol once more, you line up your sights, finger hovering over the trigger. One shot, that’s all it would take. A bullet to the middle of Genevieve’s forehead would kill her instantly, and Gregory would have no choice but to surrender. “Are you going to kill me? Shall I say hello to Kellie when I see her?”

You stare at Genevieve, her words ringing through your ears, and sending a jolt of shockwaves straight down your spine. In that moment of hesitation, the Lushnick’s push through the stairwell door, and flee.

You’re paralysed on the spot, staring after where the Lushnick’s had stood moments ago. They recognised you. They knew who you were and why you wanted revenge. But how? It had been years since you last saw them, you had been a child! Surely you looked different now from back then? But they knew you! They remembered Kellie… A gun shot rings down the corridor, the sound of metal clanging to the tiled floor following directly after.

“Eight! What happened?” One yells, now free of his handcuffs, and jogging down the corridor to meet you. You hadn’t moved. Still stood with your arms raised, and gun pointed to where Genevieve had stood.

“They – They knew me.” You gulp, putting the pistol away with shaking hands, and turning to look up at One. Tears were brimming in your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. At least not yet.

“What? But how?”

“I don’t know! That’s the fucking problem.” You hiss, storming away from One back towards the theatre. Once back, chaos surrounded Four, with everyone racing around him handing various different equipment and medications to Five, as she prepped some kind of antidote perhaps. “How’s he doing?”

Five looks up at you, regarding you with a careful mix of sympathy and hope. “The EpiPen gave him enough adrenaline to wake up again, though he’s extraordinarily groggy. Now I’m just tyring to figure out exactly what to give him to counteract the other shit that’s pumping through him.”

You nod your head in thanks, knowing you would find the time to thank Five properly once all of this was over. “What can I do to help?”

“We need to try and keep him awake, he keeps coming in and out of consciousness.” Three replies, as he passes Five a vile of clear liquid.

“Four? Can you hear me?” You ask carefully, stepping over to him and squeezing his hand tightly. His warm fingers curl around yours in reply, before falling limp against your palm.

“He’s out again! Wake him up!” Five yells to those in the room.

“Four, stay with us!” You plead, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles. To hell with anyone seeing the act of intimacy, if One wanted to give you shit for it, he could do so when you were all in the clear. Though checking the room, you can’t find One or Two for that matter, they must still be in the corridor where you had left them?

Slowly, Four blinked his eyes open, frantic emerald flickering around the room and searching for something, or someone. Just as his eyes landed on yours, they fell shut again, and his body spasmed once more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” It was Seven yelling this time, his voice booming above all other noises in the vast room.

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” You can hear the tears in your voice as you beg for him to open his eyes again, but they remain closed. Turning to look at Five, she looks frazzled. Her hair which had started in a neat, slicked back bun, was now hanging loose down her back, and was wild with frizz. She looks up at you, not quite in a glare, but with enough ferocity behind the look that you know better than to bother her anymore.

Leaning down, you card your fingers through Four’s blonde curls, brushing away a few stray locks which were plastered to his forehead with sweat. Barely more than a slit, his eyes open and stare directly up at you. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.”

Three looks over at you, his ears perking up at the use of his teammates real name. It was one thing to use names in privacy back home. But during a mission, however failed that mission may be, now that was new. Shaking his head, he spots One and Two heading over, but with grim looks on their faces. “What’s the plan?” Two asks, her eyes locking with Three’s.

“There isn’t one, not really. We just need to keep him awake.” Five sighs. “I think I know what to give him to help, but I want him awake when I administer it. If it works correctly then it should knock him out for a bit. If he’s already unconscious when I give it to him, then I won’t know if it’s doing more harm than good.”

One turns his attention over to you now, lifting one brow as you meet his gaze. “Any idea what will keep him awake?”

You pause, clutching Four’s hand tightly, and staring blankly at One. “Trivia. He loves random trivia facts!” You blurt out after a beat of pause. All eyes turn to you in surprise, no one quite knowing how to respond to this information. You shrug lightly, averting your gaze from One’s. “We play a lot of trivial pursuit back at base.”

Seven is the first to break the silence, though not to mock you as you had thought would be the case. Instead, he looks down at Four. “Hey mate, did you know high heels were originally invented for men. Imagine Three chasing down the Lushnick’s in stilettos.” He laughs, which causes Four to stir slightly, his eyes opening just a tad.

“Fuck, you’re right. That did work.” One blinks in surprise, running a hand through his short hair.

“Of course it did. I know Four, I know what works on him.” You mutter quietly.

Without looking up, Five smirks to herself. “You sure do kid.”

There’s no fighting the embarrassment which claws within you. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to be making suggestive comments… “Alright, keep ‘em coming guys!”

“Um okay…. Uh, Canada has more lakes than anywhere in the world.” Seven offers unsurely.

“Those greedy fucks….” Four moans, causing everyone to pause, before laughing quietly. Good, his sense of humour was still intact, that’s surely a good sign!

Two steps closer, and looks down at Four in deep concentration, before leaning back slightly. “David Bowie, he did not in fact have two different coloured eyes. One of his pupils was permanently dilated after he was punched in the eye during an argument over a girl.”

“Bugger me, really?” Five pipes up, both brows raised in surprise. “I always thought he had one blue and one brown eye.” She shrugs, priming a syringe carefully.

Slowly, Four was waking up. Granted he wasn’t exactly moving very much, but his eyes were opening, and he was grinning somewhat at the facts that were being thrown at him.

Staring down at Billy, something pops into your mind, a fact which you had learnt years ago at school but never shared with anyone else. “Okay, here’s one for you. Madonna’s like a prayer, is actually not about praying, it’s about giving someone a blowjob!”

Silence follows, and you swear you could hear crickets chirping. “Why the fuck is that something you know?” Four groans quietly, his eyes searching all over your face, before finally meeting your own.

“Shit, I don’t know… I also didn’t think that would be the fact that would wake you up the most! I was hoping someone else would say something after me!” You grumble through a grin.

“Nothing could possibly beat that fact.” Four chuckles weakly, squeezing your hand as tightly as he could muster.

Five turns around, holding a full syringe in her right hand, and a sterile swab in the other. “Glad you’re awake. What I’m about to give you however, is going to send you right back to sleep. Sorry about that. But I assure you, next time you wake up, you’re going to feel amazing.” She grins, ripping open the swab, and swiping it over the inside of his elbow.

For the second time that day, Four winces in pain as a needle plunges through his skin. Squeezing his eyes shut against both the sight of the injection, and the stinging pain. Whatever Five had given him was fast acting, and soon enough Four finds it nearly impossible to reopen his eyes now that he’s closed them.

“Move him into the wheelchair there, it’ll be easier than carrying him out of here.” You suggest, pointing to the blue cushioned wheelchair in the corner of the room.

One, Three and Seven all nod their agreement, and move around the operating table, getting into position to lift Four. “Count of three…. One, two, three.” Three instructs, as the men lift Four who simply groans in protest. You watch his limp body be carried across the room, your heart aching at the sight. ‘It could be worse… He’s just asleep.’ You repeat to yourself, once again fighting back the tears which had remained ever present at the corners of your eyes.

Three pushes the wheelchair as you all follow in a daze. Your mind felt as if it were a million miles away from the current situation. For the briefest of moments, you had genuinely considered murdering Genevieve. Never once had you thought yourself capable of doing such a thing. But yet, there you had been. Gun poised, and trigger finger rearing to go. If it hadn’t of been for her words, then she would be dead…

The escape route was an easy one, especially with security still trying to figure out what had gone wrong on the geriatrics ward still. Swiping the keys to an ambulance at the docking bay, you load Four inside the back with Five to monitor him. One drives, Three and Two sitting beside him up the front. While you and Seven sit quietly in the back. Occasionally your focus returns to Four, but mostly you stare out of the back windows, watching as traffic zips around you. You nearly killed someone today… What sort of a person were you becoming? And did you even like the person you were turning into?

Four Eighths taglist (If you would like to be added, please let me know!) @sj-thefan  @not-the-cleavers  @jinxfirebolt18902  @softnorris  @dear-vista  @mixer2b  @rintheemolion  @shane-isa-shame  @keithseabrook27  @tammykelly  @himarisolace​  @buckingpeterparker​  @cailin-lefantasy​  @riddikuluslysirius​  @vivalakatee​  @pxroxide-prinxcesss​

My Masterlist for all my other nonsense! 

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.1

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick?) au, sugar daddy au, fluff, pining, angst rating: mature words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention a/n: this is jeongguk as john wick because i’m trash and i cant finish one story at a time. these prompts r from here btw :) im gonna do all 50 but im too lazy rn so here’s the first 10 :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Jeongguk’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Jeongguk did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Jeongguk sufficed for “boss of a company”, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Jeongguk came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Jeongguk working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.

Taehyung, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Jeongguk seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Jeongguk spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Jeongguk donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues when racism prevented them from entry. Jeongguk was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working. And, Jeongguk was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head. Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.

Things in Jeongguk’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Jeongguk going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Jeongguk would feel alien, like he didn’t belong. At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty five year old skin), Jeongguk felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.

Having met Jeongguk during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Jeongguk’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival. Asshole, he deserved it. Secondly, Jeongguk was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.

He tried his best. Jeongguk, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep. Jeongguk knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.

However, Jeongguk was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Jeongguk drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed. Jeongguk carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.

Jeongguk is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Jeongguk is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that. Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional. Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears it again.

(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Jeongguk is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.

“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Jeongguk often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth. You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Jeongguk is around to make the judgement.

He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa. Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.

“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”

“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.

Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.

“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”

Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”

“Hate my brain.”

“Today, we hate it.”

Jeongguk’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Taehyung’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”

“I don’t need it,” Jeongguk concludes. “Not today.”

(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

Sometimes Jeongguk wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.

Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.

“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Jeongguk mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”

It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get you some water,” Jeongguk suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Jeongguk might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.

Before Jeongguk decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Jeongguk finds it a hassle to visit.

(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.

For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Jeongguk is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long fued with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Taehyung had found closer to Jeongguk’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.

With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Jeongguk picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.

A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back. France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.

“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”

Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Jeongguk dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.

“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Jeongguk takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.

“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.

“Bout an hour ago,” Jeongguk replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you. Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Jeongguk responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”

You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Jeongguk. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”

“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. “Hire me.”

“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”

(4) Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

“You.”

“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Jeongguk replies non committedly. He fists his hair.

“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”

He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”

“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”

Jeongguk relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew. Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.

“Y/N-”

“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple tit.”

He grins, then, and takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”

“Tell that to Twitter,” you sigh.

(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Jeongguk prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary. So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Jeongguk has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.

He gets up, anyway.

Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Jeongguk stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.

Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.

(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Jeongguk wants to hang Taehyung for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.

It had, of course, been Jeongguk’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Jeongguk remembers all he saw was red.

The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Jeongguk prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor. Jeongguk and his men, along with the few police officers Jeongguk could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.

Nobody knows how Jeongguk got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you. He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.

Jeongguk could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Jeongguk collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.

You were of the highest value to Jeongguk.

“Fuck you,” Jeongguk barks suddenly, and Taehyung shrugs and exits the office. All he had asked was if he loved you.

(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

There might be the assumption that Jeongguk comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.

On rare occasion, Jeongguk comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today. 

Jeongguk hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.

“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.

“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.

“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Jeongguk says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”

Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”

Jeongguk pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”

“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”

“I like your bruised up legs,” says Jeongguk.

“Me too, but not these ones.”

“Bruh, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Jeongguk exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”

“It hurts.”

“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”

Jeongguk drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room. Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee. Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Jeongguk knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”

You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”

You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Jeongguk moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.

“All better,” he assures.

“It feels better already.”

“Mm. Magic.”

(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

“So, I was at a school fayre today.”

“Really?” Jeongguk sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.

“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”

Jeongguk thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”

“Yep. You.”

“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.

You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Jeongguk again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.

“What’s this?” asks Jeongguk.

“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”

“It’s for me?” he asks again.

“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.

Jeongguk thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.

“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.

“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get Taehyung an uncle badge if he gets pissy.”

“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Jeongguk pouts. “He wants a sugar niece, well...he’ll have to look somewhere else.”

You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”

“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.

“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Jeongguk looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.

(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Jeongguk’s bored out of his brain.

He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.

“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”

“Can’t you just make it?”

“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Jeongguk hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”

He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”

“Why can’t we share a house?” Jeongguk presses.

“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”

(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

He’s tired. You’re tired.

The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Jeongguk smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now. You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.

You know he’s having a hard time, because Jeongguk’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Jeongguk takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.

You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other's company is enough for tonight. The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Jeongguk’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.

[henry-cavill-baby]

To Study (Insects) │ 1

Pairing: Clark Kent (MoS) x Original Female Character

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 3k~

Summary: Connie and Clark, two peas in a pod. She didn’t know if it was his soft blue eyes or his Mother’s sweet blueberry pie that had caught her eye, but boy howdy, was she caught. 

A/N: Nothing! Enjoy!

The best thing about living in Kansas was that nothing ever happened.

There was a mile wide sprawl of corn that was breathtaking to few; it had started out as nothing much but rows upon rows of dirt that now bore sprawls of golden richness that could truly blind any tourist with its beauty.  Most of it was picked and sold—Kansas was full of rural farmers and farmers markets, but some just stayed for show.

And the Farmers Market typically consisted of stay-at-home mothers trying to sell their overpriced sugary sweet lemon bars to any sucker who would pay seven dollars for four measly pieces.

Most of the teens at the local high school got rides home from their parents, but Connie Mayfield knew that you couldn’t pay her Father, Walter, to pick his daughter up from school. If he did, then he’d no doubt miss a rerun of Baywatch, and that simply couldn’t happen.

A tune that rivaled the airiness of a flute flew from the 14 year olds mouth on her long walk home. Connie Mayfield whistled a nonchalant melody as her uneven pace took her closer to home. 

The young girl had a lot on her mind; there was a test on Friday that was covering another form of division that looked to confusing to follow, and Alice’s birthday party was on Saturday and getting a gift for the little girl who had everything was harder than it seemed. The years of gifts consisting of dolls and bright hairbrushes were long over. Maybe she’d like a new bracelet or a set of earrings.

An irregular rock bumped against the tip of her shoe and she grinned, lobbing it off into the cornfield, a little thud echoing through the golden maze. 

It was tempting—the idea of taking the not so short shortcut through the tall stalks, if just to feel a little more free for just a moment, but the sounds of distress just up ahead had her little sneakers speeding up. She turned to the bend and grew furious at the sight of three boys throwing around her friend.

“Hey!” she bellowed, running closer before screeching to a halt in front of the teen holding up her friend by the lip of his shirt, “Leave him alone!”

Isaiah Matthews grinned with his fist still clutching the younger boy's shirt, “Oooo, is this your girlfriend, Kent?”

Clark Kent sneered up at the taller boy, fists clenching in rage. 

“Leave her alone,” he grit out, watching Isaiah sneer with confidence.

“I didn’t take you for a pussy, Kent, but I guess I was wrong.” He dropped Clark with a grin and sauntered to the near growling girl. 

“Connie, right? My dad says you Mayfield’s are trailer trash, and I can see where he gets that from.”

His eyes gave her a visible up-and-down, “No wonder only a freak would like you.” 

The words had barely left his mouth before Clark launched himself onto the back of the bully, pummeling him to the ground with hateful eyes. The two other lackeys ran, but Connie went and pulled Clark back before he did something he’d regret. The two of them fell away from the older boy, watching him with guarded eyes.

Isaiah spat at ground near their feet, “Fucking freaks.”

Connie waited until he was out of sight, turning to Clark and frowning at his disheveled appearance. “You know, I’m not always gonna be here to save you, Clark.”

He wiped away the sheen of dirt and sweat covering his upper lip, refusing to meet her eyes. “I didn’t need your help. I could’ve handled it.”

“Oh yeah, you totally had it under control,” she mocked with pursed lips.

He frowned at her sarcasm and picked up his dirtied school bag, looking down the path home. It was a quick walk to the farm, and mom had probably already started dinner, which is why it made no sense when he turned and muttered, “Can I walk you home?”

Her eyes went wide at his question, upper teeth nibbling on her pink lip, shrugging, “Sure, if you want.”

They both nodded and started a slow walk to the Mayfield’s. Connie’s fingers twitched at her side while different conversation starters nearly passed through her lips every few seconds. The urge to ask why he never fought back, why he let people call him a freak raced through her mind, but only silence hung between them. It was almost annoying that he never stood up for himself.

There was something mysterious about Clark that intrigued her 14-year-old brain; no one had ever let him live down that time he’d locked himself in a closet (and torched the doorknob till it was bright red). 

He was just the guy who kept to himself most of the time.  

And still she kept on eye on him the entire time, watching his own twitching fingers pick at the loose lining of his jeans, lip biting in a matter similar to her own, brows furrowing in thought, though they always did that. He looked cute when he was deep in thought.

Cute? I think Clark is… cute?

A deep redness flooded her cheeks and her lips pursed into a thin line, trying not to visibly speed away from the other boy, but Clark noticed everything. There was something keen about the way his mind worked; almost predatorial. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, the cute furrow in his brow deep as she faced him while willing away the redness of her juvenile cheeks. 

She nodded but didn’t meet his blue eyes. They were like oceans—I’d swim in Clark’s eyes if he’d ask—and her stomach always fluttered when he looked at her.

She expected them to fall back into silence, now halfway to the Mayfield farm, but Clark piped up, “Are you excited for the field trip tomorrow?”

A flutter of excitement rang through her veins, but she held back and simply nodded. “It’ll be a nice change from sitting inside all day.” Clark nodded along with her running words, “I heard the museum has a section on insects and their habitats, and I hope they have a butterfly display. Or—or maybe a real entomologist will be there.”

Now bugs- those were cool. Anything from crickets to butterflies to beetles, each one more interesting than the last…except arachnids. You could keep those eight-legged freaks as far away as humanly possibly.

Clark slowed their pace but kept his distance, “Is that what you wanna be when you grow up?”

She grinned and tried to slow the internal monologue of bug talk.

“I think when I grow up, I’ll leave this place behind and follow my dreams.” She said.

“And I guess those dreams do include insects of all types. They really do get a bad reputation sometimes. I think they’re just as delicate and interesting as humans.”

“Really?” Clark wrinkled in his nose, “My dad sprays the fields for bugs in the summer.” She hit his shoulder as he let out a snort, “I think I’ve squashed a few flies for mom too.”

She shook her head and couldn’t see Clark staring at her golden locks as they shined in the sun. “You’re the worst, Kent.”

The both chuckled and came to a halt in front of the Mayfield farm. It was more run down than the other houses in the area and the roof could’ve been mistaken for caving in, and she knew it looked worse on the inside. The moldy green color of the roof had seen better days, and the porch could barely hold the old rocking chair that her dad liked to sit on in the mornings. Clark would never know how the inside looked even worse.

“Do you know what you wanna be when you grow up?” She asked with a soft smile, taking no offense as Clark tried, once again, not to meet her eyes. The swoop of his brown hair was nearing the tops of his eyes, but she knew he wasn’t inclined to cut it. He didn’t buzz his hair like the other boys.

“I…” He paused, foot kicking the uneven dirt under his shoes. He bit his lip lower lip and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, met her honey eyes.

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath and lightly shrugged, “Sometimes, I feel like I don’t know who I am. I think I wanna figure that out first, ya know?”

No, she didn’t know but asking Clark to explain how he felt could feel like pulling teeth. Golden honey stared into the aquamarine sea, two sets of young lips wet and wanting, and Connie picked at her pants, nails bending with surprising force.

The door to the Mayfield hold slammed with a grotesque force, and the two teens jumped away from one another as Walter Mayfield grunted his way to them, to Clark.

“’Thought I told you to stay away from my daughter, Kent!” Walter bellowed, nearing the fourteen-year-old clear-eyed boy who showed no sign of backing down with his head held high and chest jutted out. 

“I don’t want you lookin’ at her, touchin’ her—“

Connie finally yelled, “Dad!” and stood between him and Clark, protecting her friend from the unjustified anger of her dad. She felt Clark’s fingers grip the back of her shirt and tug her closer, just as Walter stood over them with beady eyes and steam shooting from his ears.

“Get in the house, Connie.” Her dad growled, never looking away from Clark.

But she shook her head and pushed against her dad’s chest, ignoring Clark’s fingers still gripping the back of her shirt. “We weren’t doing anything, go back inside, please.”

A startled yelp left her throat as her dad’s strong fist lurched her forward by the front of her shirt, throwing her to the ground and out of Clark’s grip. The air left her lungs and the dirt felt dry under her fingertips, watching as Clark seemed to vibrate in place, glaring deadly at Walter.

“If I ever see you ‘round here again, Kent.” He spat, “I’ll make you wish you were never born. Are we clear?”

The threat hung between the adult and young teen, and Clark tightly nodded and stalked off down the dirt path, not once looking back at Connie, never seeing the tears in her eyes.

Walter stared down at his daughter with a sneer, “Get inside. I won’t say it again.”

The dried dirt caked under her nails as she scrambled to stand and bolt inside, not taking note of the woman asleep on the couch that she’d never seen before, or the beer bottles covering the kitchen counters. The stairs creaked as she fled upstairs and shut her bedroom door, clicking the latch in place. A heaviness sat in her chest as her backpack thumped to the floor.

Beaded tears fell down her thick cheeks and light cries sounded through the room.

“—I want that boy away from my son!” the mother of Peter Ross screeched from the Principal's office. “Am I the only one who understands the situation? That boy lifted a bus from a lake. A bus! What kind of monster are we allowing to walk with our children?”

The meek father of Alice pepped up, “But—But he did save them, right?”

“It doesn’t matter, Martin. I don’t feel safe with him here, and neither should any of you.”

Martha Kent hung her head and left the Principal's office, ignoring the calls from the desperate parents. There was nothing else she needed to hear from them, especially insults about her son. The door shut with a click, and her heels clipped the floor with each step.

She did her best to smile at Clark, but he’d always seen right through that. He sat up straight and looked her in the eyes, his soft voice rivaling his posture, “How did it go?”

She knew Clark had heard every word already and that lying would only make him defensive. “About as well as you’d expect, honey.” She patted his shoulder and ushered him to stand, “C’mon, let’s go home.”

The car ride was silent aside from the tapping of Clark’s blunt nails on the fabric of his jeans, and the shaking of his leg. He was such a nervous boy—her Clark—and it pained her heart to see him to try to hide how this whole thing was tearing him up inside. They normally played the radio, Clark usually flipped stations and rarely settled on just one, but silence was all they heard.

Jonathon Kent watched his wife pull up, and frowned as Clark bolted from the passenger seat and fled into the backyard. He stepped outside just as Martha shut off the car and gingerly stepped out, walking into her husband’s arms with a deep sigh. Exhaustion ran deep in her veins, and Jonathon wished he could take it away.

“That bad, huh?” He muttered into her brown locks, feeling her nod into his chest.

“Talk to him.” She begged, trying to keep the tears at bay, “I think…I think it’s time he…” They both turned to face the barn with heavy hearts, knowing this would be for the best.

Jonathon nodded and released Martha, shooting a thin-lipped smile her way as he made his way to the backyard. His heart thumped as he eyed his son, whose legs were hanging off the back of his pickup, shoulders hunched in his blue hoodie. As he got closer, he could hear the sniffles from his son.

“Clark.” His son turned and wiped away the wetness on his cheeks. “I just want to know what happened. I’m not mad, I promise.”

Jonathon sat next to his son and watched his boys lip quiver. His words came out with a thin veil of pain, “I wasn’t thinking, Dad.” A hiccup escaped his throat. “She was so scared… I just couldn’t let her die."

The water was rising too fast—it was cold and soaked the kids instantly— and Clark watched as Connie grew frantic in her efforts to open the window enough to crawl out, or maybe she was trying her best to keep the water from flooding the already half submerged bus. Cries and screams rang through the drowning bus, and Clark swam, trying his best to make it to Connie

“Connie!” He yelled, reaching forward to snag her shirt and pull her away from the stream of flowing water.

“Oh god, Clark! We’re gonna die!”  Her screams were shrill and almost hurt his ears, but the smell of her fear mixed with the smell of tears and piss coming off the other students had him looking for a way out.  

But the water was nearing the top of the bus, and all he could hear was her cries.

“Son, I thought we talked about this.” He started, patting his own thigh, “We have to keep what you can do a secret.”

“They were all going to drown, how could I have done nothing? They didn’t deserve to die.”

“Clark, I just—“ Jonathon paused, watching the sunshine across the cornfield that spanned miles upon miles. It was an array of reds that shined upon the old graying barn. 

“I just want to protect you, son. And sometimes, when people see something they don’t understand, they get scared and lash out. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”

And finally, Clark asked the question that Jonathon had known would always come.

“Why am I like this, dad? Why am I so different from everyone else?”

Memories of finding their son, raising him to be the young man who sat at his side—through all the times he’d been different than the other kids, and knowing all of the hardships that were yet to come. It was almost enough to make him cry.

Almost.

Jonathon stood up from the truck and stood in front of his son, placing both hands on his small shoulders. “I’m going to show you something, son, and it may make things make a bit more sense. But no matter what—“ He pressed his palm to his sons chest and smiled,

“You are my son.”

Part 2

[creativelyderangedme]

Last Night Chapter 3

Previous chapter

Read on AO3

Before they could go gallivanting around Paris, though, Nino made a request to stop in at the club to deal with a last minute tab mix-up from the night before - which since it was on the way to the location tagged in the earliest posts of him and Ladybug, he didn't have a problem with it. It was also kind of hard to argue with a request from a guy literally planning on following you on a glorified scavenger hunt.

But before then, of course, there was also the matter of the strange hotel room mix-up that needed to be sorted out. 

So after combing over the room for anything else he might have left and changing into something a little more comfortable, both he and Nino went down to the front desk in the hotel lobby. 

The Huxton truly was a fantastically posh sort of place - giving off the air of old money with a mixture of fashionable millennial hipster charm. Warm leather chairs littered the open lobby, accented by the navy and bright reds of carpets and plush cushions, and deep greens of floral arrangements around the connecting room leading to the open terrace and bar and lounge. It was the kind of place Adrien could see himself spending a lot of time in given the chance. Something between the extravagance of his old room back at the mansion and a home he’d like to create some day; filled with things that were like him - things that screamed Adrien. 

But that was a day dream for another time.

"Good morning, Mr. Agreste, I hope your stay has been pleasant so far!" A young attendant beamed at him the moment they approached the desk. 

He recognized the bubbly blonde immediately, having been helped by her when they checked in the day before. 

Estelle was her name. 

He wondered briefly if they’d been professionally trained, or if Estelle always looked this perfectly coiffed and outwardly radiant and approachable. It sometimes took multiple cups of coffee before even he could muster the amount of charisma she seemed to have in spades. 

Adrien grimaced, but tried to hide it under a smile, "Please, just Adrien. And actually I think something happened last night and I wanted to apologize."

The young woman gave him a confused look but allowed him to continue without interruption.

"You see, I woke up in a completely different hotel room than the one we checked into yesterday, and for the life of me, I don't know how, and I am so sorry for any trouble that might have caused. I'll pay for the room and any damage fee to make up for it."

The receptionist merely blinked for a moment at his word vomit, her bubbly radiance flickering for a moment as she seemed to mentally ask herself how this always seemed to happen to her before turning back into a megawatt bulb of sunshine, "Oh! I-I see. Would you happen to remember the room number?"

"Yes, it was 414." Nino answered in his place, recognizing the mortification crawling up Adrien's spine.

Estelle nodded and quickly began typing at her terminal, silence and persistent tapping filling the void while they waited for the impending news. Though, the longer they stood there, the more confusion seemed to fill her expression, "a-actually, sir, while I'm not completely certain of the circumstances, it - it looks like you booked that room."

"What? No, I only booked the room you checked us into yesterday."

She smiled once more, though, this time it seemed a bit strained - as she turned the monitor so that he could see what she did, "it says here that this room was booked early this morning. It looks like Collette was the one to book the room for you. She's not set to arrive until later this afternoon, but I could give you a call when she does?"

Early this morning? If the time stamp was to be believed it was nearly four am when the room was booked. 

Staring at the screen wasn't giving him any further clues, so he nodded at the attendant.

"Yeah, please do. Thanks."

They began to walk away but Adrien stopped, turning back to the woman, "By chance, do you happen to remember seeing me leave here yesterday?"

Even as she appeared put off by the question, she answered him quickly.

"Yes. Both times. First with your friend and then again about an hour and a half later. Though, the second time you'd changed clothes. I remember because you asked me if I thought it looked too flashy for a club." She giggled good naturedly.

Nino snickered at his side, coughing to cover it up when Adrien scowled at him. 

Finally, they waved and headed out the hotel's main entrance.

If ever Adrien hated the reminder that alcohol was not his friend, it was then as he and Nino stepped out into the late-morning sun of a gorgeous day in Paris - where the combination of splitting headache and overwhelming nausea nearly brought him to his knees while his friend pulled up the Uber app to confirm their ride.

"You good dude?"

The blonde could only grunt in response, swallowing back the abundance of saliva in his mouth in an effort to keep from heaving.

Something that didn't exactly convince his best friend that he was in the clear, "You know they charge extra if you puke in the cars, right?"

"I'll - I'll be fine. Just give me a moment."

Nino hummed, watching him with a curious tilt to his brow, "I haven't seen you this fucked up since the day after your old man's arrest. Just how much did you drink last night anyways?"

The unwanted memory of sitting hunched over someone's (he doesn't exactly remember who's) toilet bowl while puking his guts up until he had nothing left in his system (then dry heaving for at least an hour after that) flashed in his mind. It was a party his friends had thrown to just celebrate the end of Hawkmoth's reign of terror. For him though, it had been an opportunity to forget that twenty-four hours prior to that, he'd unmasked his own father after the man had tried to kill him and his partner in the hopes of stealing their miraculous to bring back his comatose mother.

There had been a lot of things he'd wanted to forget. 

Unfortunately for him, he didn't have the tolerance for the alcohol he drank. Landing him in a nice cozy embrace with the porcelain throne the next day.

Apparently he still didn't have the tolerance.

Through his musings of the past, Adrien failed to notice his friend fishing something from his bag to hand to him until it was waving in his face.

A pair of aviators. 

The blonde thanked him before putting the glasses on, reducing the ever present sting of light on his hungover brain. And just in time as a car pulled up to take them to their destination.

The ride to the bar was blessedly short and Adrien had managed to keep his stomach from rolling for the most part, but was very thankful when they climbed out of the silver economy compact with a half hearted wave and 5 stars.

Looking up at the ostentatious entrance to Chez Moune, the blonde had the strangest rush of dejavu. Something about the gold embellished entrance trim sparking familiarity that he couldnt place.

Nino walked right past him and through the doors, making his way up to the main club room and Adrien shook off his thoughts to follow after. 

The former cabaret turned dance club was lit brightly for the early staff, stocking and preparing for another night of fun for tourists and local party seekers alike. 

It was a club that Nino had managed to land more than a couple gigs, and had reserved a portion of for the going away party they’d all thrown him the night before. Celebrating the next leg of his life...

I’m leaving town soon. Tonight I’m supposed to be celebrating...

The voice wrapped around him like a fine silk, beckoning him towards the edge of a memory. Red - he was surrounded by red and moving shadows. And if he listened hard enough, he could hear the pounding of a bass beat that synced with the beating of his heart - steady and rhythmic and sultry. 

There was the twinkling of bells riding on the coat-tails of a sweet voice.

You’ll get over it, I’m sure...

"Hey man - did you hear me?”

Adrien blinked, and the red club lights and shifting bodies disappeared, leaving an entirely too quiet empty bar and bright fluorescents. It took another moment before he realized he’d been asked a question, turning to look at Nino and ground himself in the present once more.

"Dude, you sure you’re good?"

His adam’s apple bobbed with the force of his swallow, but he nodded slowly. He was dizzy, and for the first time, not because he was hungover.

The blonde turned back to the bar and snippets pieced themselves together in his mind, bringing clarity to what felt like a fever dream.

"I actually did make it back."

"What?"

Adrien ran his tongue over parched lips, “I made it back to the club,” he said quietly, almost absently, but with much more confidence as he stared unseeing at a pair of bar chairs on the far side of the room.

There. 

That's where he'd seen her.

When he'd managed to make it back to the club and no one was the wiser of his identity behind the black mask, he'd looked up to find his friends, only for his eyes to lock on her almost immediately in the crowd.

Understatement of the year, but, It had been a total shock to his system. Knocking the breath clean from his chest as he took her in.

It wasn't the red mask or the signature pig-tails hidden beneath a chic rimmed hat that had given her away.

Funny enough, it was her skirt.

Maybe not funny, because the presence of that one article of clothing had turned his world on its head. 

It was more than possible he was mistaken. It could have been anyone.

But not just anyone could pull off ladybug spots. Which she did. Oh god she did. It was a long,  high-waisted skirt with a bow in the same fabric on her hip. 

But he'd remember that skirt anywhere. She'd only ever worn it one other time, afterall, and it was the last time he'd seen her, so the memory of her outfit from that day was burned into his memory.

It had to be her.

Right? 

Adrien ignored the crowd as he made his way over to her, all the while his heart raced and mind fumbled over what he was going to say. The nerves were killing him. What if he was wrong? What if this was a complete stranger and he made an absolute fool of himself.

But what if it was her, a voice pushed in the back of his head, sounding suspiciously like Plagg. 

He fought himself the entire way over, his mind completely unaware of the body's natural magnetism to the woman until he was standing close enough he could reach out.

It was now or never.

“What’s a lady like you doing in a place like this?”

Mentally, he'd face-palmed at the absolutely horrid words spilling from his mouth. Seriously? That's what he went with?

The lady in question rolled her eyes at what was probably not the first pick-up line she’d heard that evening, turning to look at him, blue eyes flashing with something close to shock and recognition before a brow pulled up under her mask. 

She searched him for a moment. 

The longest moment of his life. 

Those eyes (if he was right, and he was positive that he was - oh god please let him be right) had always been so expressive - and he could see everything as it flashed in her expression; uncertainty, disbelief, reluctant recognition again before a smirk slowly graced her perfectly painted red lips, “Really? That’s the best you got?”

"For now, yes.” He nodded decisively, before finally taking the open seat next to her, “Though it did get you talking to me, so, I count that as a win."

She eyed him critically again before commenting, "Smooth."

"I try."

"Too hard."

He chuckled, because she always had been quite sharp-tongued and feisty. Good to see that hadn’t changed. “You never did answer my earlier question, though.”

"Why should I? You're a stranger in a bar."

Maybe, maybe not, he wanted to say, but thought better of trying to be too pushy.

"That's fair. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

He could see her eyeing him critically out of his peripherals. 

“I’m leaving town soon. Tonight I’m supposed to be celebrating, but it just doesn’t feel right.”

He didn't let the grin spread over his lips at having gotten an answer, but did nod along, “I understand the feeling.”

“Oh?”

“As it turns out, I’ll be leaving town soon as well. And I too am supposed to be celebrating.” what were the chances they'd both be here celebrating? Slim to nil.

“So what’s your excuse?”

“Well, I saw this lovely lady sitting at the bar and felt it was my sworn duty to keep her company.”

The masked woman snorted a chuckle, trying desperately to hide the amused grin as she brought her drink to her lips, “Wow. That was worse than your intro.”

“Meowch. You wound me!”

He caught the way her eyes cut back over him at the pun before answering, “You’ll get over it, I’m sure.” Laughing lightly into the back of her hand, sweetly, like twinkling bells.

He could spend eternity getting lost in the sounds she made, but he had a mission. He could not allow himself to be distracted.

He waved over a bartender and ordered a rum and coke, throwing a few bills on the counter, exchanging currency for liquid courage before turning back to his companion.

“Why doesn’t it feel right to be celebrating?”

She hummed, considering her words as she peered over at him and the drink he made himself busy consuming, then turning back to stare at the glass she passed back and forth between her fingers on the bar top, "There was - something I had hoped to do before I left Paris, but I don't think that's possible anymore… I missed my chance."

Missed her chance? Adrien fought every instinct in his body urging him to envelope this woman in his arms and tell her it wasn't too late - but he had no idea what she was referring to.

And it hadn't been her that had missed their chance. No, the blame for that was solely on his shoulders. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." He murmured softly, not quite sure what else to say to her confession. 

Which left them sitting in an awkward silence that neither seemed to know how to dissipate. Both turning to finish their respective drinks.

That is, until the bartender came back around not five minutes after their glasses were empty with a fresh drink for the both of them.

Adrien’s masked companion immediately went to rectify the oversight, “Oh! But I-”

“On the house.” The bartender smiled, looking between the two of them - a kid in a candy store kind of giddiness to his stare, nodding his head like he was trying to find the right words to say before settling on, “And thanks. For everything.”

Both Adrien and his masked companion’s eyes widened at his words.

Neither confirming or denying his claims.

And the bartender didn’t stick around long enough for them to do so, either.

There was a moment where both of them just sat there staring at the drinks placed in front of them. Like taking the drinks would confirm every suspicion dancing between them. 

“I-it was almost like he recognized us or… something…” She said softly, and had it not been for his enhanced hearing, he probably would have missed it. She reached out and took the drink and Adrien watched as she stared at it, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. A soft yet sad far away look in her eyes.

A small chuckle escaped him as he too took his drink, “... or something.” He confirmed.

They were dancing around their identities again. It was so familiar and so frustrating, but he didn’t dare broach the subject in fear of breaking whatever spell kept her seated next to him instead of leaving. 

Because she had every right to.

She had every right to get up and leave and never say another word to him. Disappear into anonymity like a ghost of his past destined to haunt his every waking thought, but dancing just out of reach.

So he accepted the drink and accepted the company even if it meant hiding behind masks again, because - God he missed her.

He missed the easy conversion. He missed the quiet moments spent on rooftops under the stars. He missed her chiding him for his jokes. And he missed the way she demanded he take care of himself. Like her happiness depended entirely on his wellbeing.

And despite everything, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't still irrevocably in love with her.

It wasn't until they'd both nearly finished their free rounds that something caught the lady’s eye and made her groan to herself.

"Whats with the sound of distaste?"

She hummed, and shook her head, remembering her audience of one, "nothing. Just saw something gross." She threw back the rest of her drink then turned back to him, “You know… this place is seriously beat.” grumbling, and looking for sympathy.

But instead, she would be met with a flash of inspiration across his face. “Then what are we waiting for?” he stood, nearly knocking over his chair, but steadied himself, reaching out to offer her his hand, “Let’s blow this joint.”

She sputtered a laugh as she looked between his face and the hand he outstretched to her, “And go where? Do what?”

What couldn’t they do? He smiled, feeling an overwhelming excitement take hold of him. Like he’d just transformed and he could feel the power Plagg once offered wash over him. “Everything.”

“Everything?”

He nodded, not at all deterred by the ‘you’ve grown two heads’ expression on her face, “You said you’re leaving town soon, right?"

"Yes?"

“Then, what would one night of fun hurt?”

Because right now, he was Chat Noir. He could leap great distances, climb towers, defeat evil. They could do anything as long as they were together. 

"B-but I don't even know you. You don't even know me!"

He grinned still, "Perhaps we know each other better than we think we do? Either way, we're two people about to leave Paris. We can't just go without giving the city one last chance to give us an adventure, right? Something sweet to remember it by."

She chuckled again, looking dazed and stricken, and trying to convince herself that the man before her was nothing but a creep trying to lure her away. She glanced at something over his shoulder, but her eyes kept coming back to rest on him. The indecision was being overshadowed by a spark of temptation in her features - something giving away how badly she wanted to say yes.

All he needed to do was give her a reason. 

“Would I ever steer you wrong, M’Lady?”

The mystery woman's eyes widened as Adrien made the comment, confirmation of his suspicions in a single gaze as he offered her his hand in invitation. He could have said anything, and she could have denied it. She could have brushed off the comment as him being a terrible flirt and told him to take a hike.

Instead, recognition lit her eyes like summer fireworks and painful tenderness filled her stare.

And despite everything, She took his hand.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. Would you, Chaton?"

[choco-glow]

Fall Like Rain On Sunday, Pt. 6

Jason paid the check while Steph visited the bathroom, watching her purse with a careful eye against his side, entirely uncaring of the snickering little fucks two tables over. They couldn’t be more than sixteen, with girlfriends a tad younger, which already was making Jason’s blood heat as he stared them down with his best “Get Fucked” glare. They ordered expensively, which set his hackles up, and when their waiter, Geoff, came back with his card, Jason quietly asked the older man to wait.

“Hey, Geoff, quick question.” He swallowed, looking faintly worried, and Jason gave him a smile as he signed the card slip, a huge tip on the tip line and adding it up in his head with ease. “Those kids been in here before? I know it’s a trendy place, but it ain’t cheap.”

“…No, they haven’t, and I’m worried they’re going to dine and dash. We just got a new kitchen manager, and he’s adamant that any dashers come out of your tips…and we can’t run after them.” Jason nodded, and handed the slip back…as well as five crisp hundreds, much to Geoff’s wide-eyed shock.

“If they do, take it out of the tip I gave you on the card; I know they tax you guys on that, bullshit as that is. This is yours, though; if you wanna share with anyone who needs it, go for it, man, but I’ve watched you haul ass around her all night on a bad leg; my girl and I think you’re awesome, and we’ll be back again next week.” Jason murmured, and Geoff swallowed thickly, his eyes misting over before he shook his head, clearing his throat.

“…Sir, if you’d be so kind to give me your name, I’ll make sure you have a standing reservation at this booth.” Jason beamed up at him.

“Jason Wayne; I think Bruce Wayne’s a regular too, if I’m not mistaken? He’s my old man.” Geoff brightened at that, even moreso, which hardly surprised Jay. Bruce might be a bit of an ass to his kids, but his long-standing choice to write “put your current debt here” in the tip line is very well known among the waitstaff at these places. One of the few things we don’t fight over these days.

“He is, and I thought I recognized you, Mr. Wayne…”

“Please, just Jason; I have pretty humble roots back on Fourth and Ash.” He murmured, and Geoff’s eyes warmed even more.

“Absolutely, Jason. And your date?”

“Stephanie Brown.”

“I’ll make sure you two are in the reservation book. Saturday night still work?”

“It should, but I’ll call a few days ahead to change it if we need to. If we don’t show for some reason, by all means, fill the booth; I’m not going to be upset.”

“That’s what your dad says. That…helps. Thank you, Jason.”

“My pleasure, Geoff; hope the little shits behave, but if they don’t, you’re covered now.” He grinned, neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard and mustache curving up, and Jay thanked him again, standing up when Steph made her way back, looking just as radiant as before. “Hey baby, we’ve got a standing reservation now, if you’re cool with that?” He murmured, and Steph leaned into his chest with a happy sigh, kissing him in a way that had those girls swooning and the boys looking down at her plates now, which made Jay grin against her lips.

“I’m so good with that. Where to now, handsome?” He grinned and offered her his arm; she took it with a happy laugh, and they made their way out of the restaurant to the evening sunshine outside. Sunshades of every color in the rainbow protected tourists and locals alike from the harsher rays over their heads, rippling softly with the sea wind blowing through the streets and canals. Here was a look into both Gotham’s past…and its future.

The canals, much like Venice half a world away, had gondolas brought over by the Italian families and operated along Amusement Mile, where the Gotham River met the Atlantic Ocean, powered by the long guide poles and clever little electric motors as needed nowadays, full of romancing couples and delighted tourist families, and Jason admired the hard work alongside Steph, both of them happy to see something other than gentrification rebuilding their beloved city.

“Those are the new solar power shades, right, Jay?”

“Yup, Lucius had them put up a couple weeks ago, and so far, they’ve managed to cut the electric costs to the Mile by over half…” He murmured as they ambled along, neither of them in a rush to brave the heavy crowds heading in from the carnival to eat and drink and make merry. Steph gently tugged him to the back part, where the fishing docks lay quiet and calm, some leisure craft roped to the ancient oak pillars and walkways, but mostly, it was just a few people looking to escape the rush.

He breathed a sigh of relief alongside Steph, and they walked in the shadows together, comfortable in their surroundings. The Joker rarely came out of the Dixon Docks area of town anymore, and frankly, though Jason would have preferred to see him dead…seeing him without much of his support and former allies did help. Up here, at Amusement Mile, where he’d hated being for so long…he found he didn’t mind as much, with Steph by his side.

Of course, no one in their right mind had clowns out and about anymore, so that helped too. No, this carnival was a permanent one, with hand crafted trinkets and a few games, and several fun rides. The jewel of the Mile was the newly built replacement to the old Ferris wheel, this one a little smaller, but no less glamourous, and Jason caught Steph’s eye, nodding to the wheel with a grin, and she chuckled.

“Maybe later…still walking off that food baby, because damn did they give us our money’s worth.”

“You got it, babe, still wanna keep walking before dessert?”

“Is dessert those fuckin’ delicious paczki that I keep smelling?” He snickered, and she punched him lightly in the arm, still laughing. “I take that as a yes.”

“Yes, it’s paczki, you really think being a street kid wasn’t all about earning that sweet dollar-eighty to buy a bag of hot fried dough with jam?”

“Considering both Bruce and Alfred looked at me like I was crazy for craving them while I was pregnant, yeah…” Jason’s eyes softened and Steph sighed. “…I’m glad you knew that already. I don’t…like going over the details.”

“Can’t say I blame ya, Blondie…but yeah, I know. For what it’s worth, though…you’re an awesome mom.” She blushed, but the tiny smile she gave him when she looked back up made Jason’s heart beat a little faster, and he gently tugged her into the shadowy recess of one of the game buildings, the CRACK of hard rubber balls hitting the metal milk jugs hiding any sound they might have made. “I mean it…” She stopped him with a kiss, pressing her curvy body to his, and Jason leaned back against the support, pulling her as close as he could to kiss her back, losing himself in her soft warm lips, the little noises she made, the way she hugged him so tight.

“…Thank you…” She whispered when they both pulled back just a little for air, and Jason felt his heart flip-flop at the smile on her lips.

“For you, sweetheart, anything.” Steph sighed a little, happily, as far as he could tell, and he shifted her closer, tucking her under his chin and kissing her hair softly. “You okay?”

“…With you? I will be.” She murmured, and Jason felt his heart leap like he could fly.

“Then you got me, babe. For as long as you want me.”

[nerteragranadensis]

If you’re accepting double prompts, I would love to see 15 and 31 together, I have this idea that it would be hilarious.

If not! 31.

double prompts are great! pretty sure I overthought this one, but it was fun to write. The characters involved are OCs from a post-apocalyptic novel.

15. Heist AU + 31. Awful First Meeting

“Yeah,” Allison said. She drew out the word and looked down at her ipad, feigning disinterest. “Looks like we’re gonna have to fumigate.”

The museum manager stared at her in dismay. Allison returned his stare, impassive and professional. Almost, she thought. Almost. Just ask to set up an appointment. You want to ask. I’m the person to ask. 

She was wearing a decent mockup of an exterminator uniform—blue coveralls and a baseball cap, her hair pulled up behind her head. If she could talk the manager into closing, they could pull off this job tonight, and she could be out of town on a boat filled with historic artifacts by tomorrow. 

She waited. People always tried to fill a silence, if you let them. People hated silence. 

“I—” The manager stammered. “I’m sorry, I have to talk to my supervisor.”

“Sir,” Allison said, with none of the respect that word implied. "You have an infestation. Right now, in this museum. Now you can take all the time you need to think it over, but for every minute you do that you're gonna have termites—" 

She was interrupted by the sound of a car alarm outside. She turned her head toward it automatically, turned back, and then realized, too late, why that alarm sounded so familiar. 

That’s the van. 

“Excuse me,” Allison said to the manager. Then she bolted for the parking lot. 

The van wasn’t in the parking lot. They had parked it across the street, outside a tourist-trap gift shop that didn’t get much business. Allison reached the sidewalk and stopped, gaping at the battered grey Ford crumpled against the side of her beautiful van. 

“What the fuck?”

The Ford had a driver. He emerged from around the side of it, and oh, shit, he was bleeding. He was also—if Allison wasn't mistaken—a high schooler. He looked scared shitless. 

“I am so sorry,” he said. Allison started moving again, approaching the two cars. The Ford looked totaled. The van had at least survived, but the passenger-side door was dented in. The window was shattered. “There was ice,” said the other driver—the only driver. “In the intersection and I didn’t—it all happened so—” He covered his face, and then looked up at her again in agony. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s, uh—” It wasn’t okay, not by the furthest fucking stretch of Allison’s imagination, but she didn’t have time for this. She had the manager on the hook and she needed to get back inside to reel him in, so she could finish this job and get out—

“I called the police,” the kid said. 

“You what?”

He actually, visibly flinched. “I told them it was my fault,” he said, “I promise, you weren’t even driving so it couldn’t be you—and I don’t—I don’t have insurance but I’ll pay you back, I swear, we can—”

“Shit. Shit!” Allison ran around to the driver’s side of the van. She didn’t have anything directly incriminating in the van, she knew better than that, but the last thing she wanted on fucking Earth was a paper trail. She pulled open the door and dug through the glove compartment. She had a registration for the van. She had three registrations for the van. She dug through papers, scattering them across the seat, until she found the one that listed it to her current assumed identity. 

This is bad. This is really bad. She didn’t have time for this. 

She emerged from the van and found the kid standing behind her, so close that she almost ran him over. “Shit!” 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, backing up. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t mean to—” His voice cracked, his breath hitched, and then he started crying, right there on the sidewalk. Allison stared at him in horror. 

“Don’t…” she said, with much less heat. “Hey, come on. Don’t do that.” She took a hesitant step toward him. The kid didn’t flinch, which was something, but Allison didn’t feel at all comfortable touching him, and she had no other ideas for getting him to stop. She’d been cussing him out a few seconds ago. “It’s gonna be okay. Probably. I’m not gonna… press charges or anything.” At the moment she was considering skipping town altogether. Her chances of pulling the job off at all were dropping by the second.

The kid snuffled and nodded and swiped at his eyes. He wasn’t wearing gloves. His knuckles were turning red from cold, which just made Allison feel worse. “I really am sorry,” he said. 

“I got that,” Allison said. Several blocks down the street, she saw a police car pull around the corner. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Mikhail,” the kid said, and then, “Ivanov. Sorry.” 

“Okay,” Allison said. “I have to step back inside for a minute. If you could just stay here while I—” 

She was interrupted by the screech of tires on gravel, as another van pulled up to the museum, decked out in blue and orange lettering. Anchorage Pest Control, it read. Allison stared at it. 

Well, shit.

[thepaperpanda]

Venom To The Rescue || Venom x Reader + Avengers

Summary: Venom has saved the world even if he didn't give a shit about it.

Warnings: none

Words: 2486

Requests: @ihavealwayslovedcass

Authors: Cass & Rouge

A/N: One bite per day keeps Thanos away :D ~Cass

Eddie had enough of sitting in the office as much as you so he decided it was time for a camping. Both of you took a few days off, packed all stuff that were needed and headed to the camping spot.

It was a nice summer night. Eddie was sitting in front of the fire, frying some marshmallows on his stick. "You will love it, V. They are just as good as chocolate. Sweetheart! You are done in this tent? We... I mean.. I miss you here," Eddie said looking over his shoulder.

"Minute! I just need a minute! I can't find my hairbrush! Did you pack it as I asked?!," you screamed out of tent.

Venom formed himself from Eddie's back and laid his chin on man's shoulder sniffing viciously. "It doesn't smell nice. You burnt them, Ed. If you think we're gonna eat some burnt marshmallows, you're fucking mistaken, we tell ya."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "You said the same thing five minutes ago, Y/N, your hairbrush should be in my backpack!" Then he looked annoyed at Venom and shook his head. Eddie took a new stick and impaled two marshmallows on it, he put it in Venom's mouth. "Here, make your own, Master Chef."

Venom formed a hand and shifted it more into campfire, without complaining this time.

"I've found it!" After a moment you joined them sitting onto Eddie's lap. "Oh, V! You do it by yourself!"

Venom narrowed his eyes. "He made us do this."

"Well, he had no other choice. He didn't like mine so he has to do it by himself," Eddie giggled and looked at you. "Come here sweetheart, I want to cuddle with you."

As soon as you joined Eddie, he wrapped one arm around you and pulled you closer. "I love this camping already, even Venom won't destroy my mood. Just me and you," Eddie purred and nuzzled to your hair. "Hey, how about a walk?"

You brushed his cheeks and cupped his face to place a passionate kiss to his lips. But when you two were kissing, something slick and cold sneaked between your faces. It was no one else but Venom. "And we. We all are Venom!," he stated proudly and gave a lick to you and to Eddie.

Eddie blinked, growling annoyed. He already started to mentally count to ten to calm down.Eddie let out a deep sigh. "Y/N? So what with our walk, shall we?," he asked getting up and offering you his hand.

You grabbed his palm smiling. "Sure. We can get a round."

Venom growled quietly and hid himself.

"I swear, if you will be calm for this walk I will buy you a box o chocolate bars," Eddied said mentally to Venom and quickly pulled you with him.

The night was warm and calm, you two walked slowly. "This place is nice, right?," Eddie smiled at you.

Your arm was wrapped around his waist. "Yes. I like it. It's nice here, away from the civilization. It's nice to be here, to clear mind, breathe with fresh, clean air," you whispered.

Eddie nodded. "No work, no problems, just me, you... and Venom,” he laughed softly and pulled you closer to himself. "I needed something like this."

You two walked for a few more minutes simply enjoying your time together. Talking and joking was enough until you pulled Eddie's attention away from the chat.

"Hmmm? Did you hear that?," you asked carefully stopping within a step. "I bet I heard something. In the brushes. Nearby."

Venom formed himself once again and his eyes narrowed. "There, footprints," he pointed his formed hand in east direction. "Check it, Ed... Maybe it's something to eat..."

Eddie let out a loud sigh and stroked his hair, looking at Venom, then at you.  "I don't know, these can be footsteps of some tourists. I mean, this place is popular." Eddie though few minutes."What do you think, Y/N?"

"I think... We should go back to tent... I don't like it," you said squeezing Eddie's hand.

But Venom had opposite idea. He covered Eddie's body and smirked viciously at you. "C'mon, pussy. We're gonna check it. We smell a meal. And we're hungry, fucking hungry." After these words Venom grabbed your hand and pulled you right behind him, straight into the bushes.

Eddie used his whole will straight to fight Venom back this time. He hated when this was happening, Venom was always taking over his body without even little warning.

When Venom let go of Eddie's body, you and he stood in front of a big human-like creature with purple skin.

Eddie slowly pulled you behind him.

You trembled and squeezed man's palm strongly. "Let's go back, Eddie... I don't like it..."

The mystery person or creature was no one else than Thanos himself. He turned to you and Eddie."Humans! Bow to your new ruler before I will liberate you from your biggest problem!"

Eddie blinked completely scared. It was talking and apparently, it was talking to him. "V.... one of your buddies?," he asked.

Venom formed the head next to Eddie's. "No, pal. We don't know this purple turd."

You pulled man's hand trying to run away. "Eddie," you whispered.

"Ey, motherfucker, who are ya?," Venom tilted his head narrowing his white eyes.

Eddie hushed you and pulled you behind his back, at last he had Venom to protect you and him.

Thanos looked at Venom with a frown."I am..."

His words were interrupted by another voice.

"Yea, yea! You are Thanos and you came to get stones and destroy us but you know what big, purple buddy? Not today."

It was Iron Man, Tony Stark himself in the company of Avenger's Quinjet.

"Are you okay, kids?," Iron Man asked before landing on the ground, other Avengers joined him soon.

Venom's eyes got wider as he tilted head from left to right few times. He poked Eddie's cheek. "Who they?," he asked. "You know 'em? Are they your stupid colleagues from work that we don't know about, huh?"

You nuzzled to Eddie's back panting in horror. The entire situation was too complicated for you to handle. It had to be a calm camping, for fuck's sake!

"Don't worry, we'll handle it," strong voice said. It was no one else but Captain America himself. He got out of the Quinjet, Black Widow and Thor followed him. "Tony," he nodded at Iron Man and then moved the glance of his steel blue eyes on you, Eddie and Venom, frowning a bit as he spotted the symbiote.

Venom poked Eddie's cheek. "Say something, mr reporter. Protect us. These are strangers. The blond one looks appetizing though..."

Eddie shook his head. "I don't know them personally but they are Avengers. Heroes are here. We are safe and Venom, you won't eat Captain America," he frowned looking at symbiote.

Tony nodded. "Hey there, I see that American ass and the crew joined us so we can start."

Thanos laughed deeply. "You!? What are you gonna do? Beat me to death with this pathetic freesbie? I will destroy you all."

"Yeah, you wish this, big purple mister…," Tony wasn't able to finish his sentence.

Venom observed the entire scene carefully. He turned his formed head to look at Thanos. He was stending only few feets from him. Well, Eddie once said "you can eat bad guys". And if we cannot eat that tasty booty of Captain America... We're gonna do a quick check, he thought to himself frowning. Symbiote glared back at Thanos, measuring him from the bottom to the top.

Bad guy look - check.

Has bad intentions - check.

Looks like a thing possible to eat, namely a plum - check.

Threatened Eddie, Y/N, ans these people dressed like for the masquerade - check.

Hunger - DOUBLE CHECK.

Before anyone could react, Venom overtook Eddie's body, took a large step towards Thanos and simply ate his head off, decapitating Mad Titan within blink of an eye.

"OH MY FUCKING SHIT JESUS CHRIST!," Tony yelled took completely off guard, even his helmet opened to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

Others were just as shocked as Tony was.

At this point Eddie was fully happy that Venom took control without warning, at last, he was sure that the love of his life was safe from... Whoever or whatever it was.

"LANGUAGE, STARK," Captain snapped angrily looking at Venom in disbelief. "Did you just... What the hell!"

Venom smiled widely. "We're Venom. And we were hungry. You look tasty, too. Especially that butt of yours, so juicy. But wait. I need that purple lungs and liver, I bet they'll be more tasty than his purple head. It didn't taste like plum."

"Language, Rogers!," Tonny yelled using Steve's voice. "Exactly, WHAT THE HELL?! IT WAS OUR JOB!,” he said.

Natasha listened to Venom and shook her head. "I am getting sick, I go back to Quinjet,” she said and turned around to leave. Others followed her, leaving Cap and Iron Man alone with you and Venom.

"See? Even... this thing says you have a nice ass," Tony said looking at Steve.

Steve blushed and made a mad grimace whilst looking at Tony.

Venom was eating Thanos' body, part after part, swallowing flesh like a starving lion that hunted a prey. "We aren't a thing, dumbass, we're Venom," symbiote reminded with mouth full of flesh. After a while he hid himself leaving Eddie kneeling next to dead corpse of Mad Titan.

You watched the scene and fainted with gasp escaping your parted lips. Steve rushed to you to support you from falling onto dusty ground.

Eddie groaned and shook his head. "Oh my God.. I'm gonna be sick," he looked at the corpse and quickly moved away. "What happened?"

"What happened is that I just filled my armor with my breakfast. WHAT THE HELL and don't even try, Rogers!," Tony warned before finishing, "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!"

Eddie smiled softly and got up from the ground."Uhm... Well, some time ago I caughed this parasite and it kinda takes over my life," he shrugged and quickly moved to you. "Y/N? Sweetheart, it's okay now."

Steve was holding you into his strong arms, his blonde bangs fell onto his forehead. "She's fine, it was... A bit too much for everyone, pal," he explained carefully handling you to Brock. "The parasite you say? You do realize that this parasite has just killed Earth's greatest threat?," Steve gazed at Tony with helpless grimace. "I think this thing has just gotten our work done," he shrugged.

Venom formed his head next to Eddie's smiling widely. "Oh, hi there, America's greatest ass. You look tastier from such a short distance."

Tony rubbed his face. "Yea... I think so, Cap, let's just go before he eats you too. I think I need to go and take a nap. The sleep deprivation isn't good for me. Thanks for the help... whoever you are."

Eddie looked at Venom and smile, holding you close. "I need to say this was a good job, V, for once a good job," he petted Venom's head before picking you up in bridal style. "Well, I think we should go back to camp, but I have question. Can I, Captain?"

Steve nodded hesitantly, he took a step backward to avoid the possibility of being eaten by Venom who was petted by Eddie but still glared at him with tongue licking his fangs.

"Well, if you and the whole team are here already, could you give me an interview? I am a reporter." Eddie smiled.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Reporter with head-eating parasite and I though that God of Thunders is weird,” he commented.

Venom turned his head towards Stark. "Hey, sardine in the can? If ya have problem with Eddie, ya have a problem with us. We'll be your nightmare. Eddie, you ran blood tests lately and you had a low level of iron. We can eat this metal turd to keep your iron level at norm, what do you think?"

"We don't eat avengers, V." Eddie said with a frown. "Remember? No eating good guys."

"Exactly! We are good guys, suck me, parasite," Tony barked. "Cap, please? Give a kid an autograph and let's go home."

"Well...," Steve put hand on Eddie's shoulder. "I think we owe you this at least. If you'll promise me that your strange friend won't eat any of us," Steve smirked at Brock.

Parasite immedietely moved his head to Steve hand. "Pet, pet?," he asked.

Steve, as carefully as it was possible petted symbiote's head. "Yeah, you did a... God job. And well, you saved the world and entire universe."

Venom smiled licking Eddie's cheek. "You see, Ed, and you try to tell us what our hunger sets you in trouble constantly. But as you see, the troubles were eaten off."

Eddie smiled and sighed. "Okay! sometimes you are useful." Eddie nodded and looked at Captain. "That would be great! I will contact you when I will be back at work, okay?"

Steve smiled at man. "No problem."

Meantime you opened your eyes. Venom noticed it and instinctively nuzzled to you whispering. "We had just gotten Eddie a new job, he'll interview that bootylicious blonde man."

"Hey, sleeping beauty,”  Eddie smiled at you and kissed your forehead. "Venom is right. The newspaper will have an exclusive interview with Captain America himself."

"Captain, Captain?," Venom moved head to Steve.

"Uhm, yeah?"

"Tell your iron pal that we keep our eye on him," Venom added.

Tony was pretty irritated at this point. "Yea, sure, whatever. See you in the tower, Cap,” he muttered and quickly left.

Eddie sighed. "I think all of us should head back home, it's late,” man said and looked at Venom and then back at you. "Who is tired?"

Steve greeted Brock and followed Tony to Quinjet.

Venom shook his head. "We're not but we'd like few of those marshmallows that have left in a pack. And you see, we came to this world on purpose. And this was it. We came to eat all of your and Y/N's problems. Additionally Earth's problems too. And you call us a parasite. You lack gratitude, pal."

"You can't always eat our problems, V,” Eddie sighed and looked at Venom. "But thank you and you will get all the marshmallows of the world."

Venom nuzzled to Eddie's neck. "Ya know. We love you, pal. Though your lungs smell good, we would never ever eat you. You're one of us. Till the end of the world. Or until you'll starve us to the point we won't be having other choice than to eat you."

"I love you too, V. Thank you," Eddie said and looked at you in his arms. "And we love Y/N too," he told you and kissed your forehead.

“So?,” Venom poked man's head. “Move your fat butt, Brock. We're still hungry.”

Pandies🐼: @imidarogerson @grossograsso @thewildgardensstuff @leven-and-ashley @la-verdura @bearded-steve-rogers @sebbystan-plantlover @atuckyismylife @krispyjellyfishzombie @personality-within @haseki-huricihan @choppedgardenwhispers @vroobelek @lattimelka @chris-beamz @hidden-secrets69 @purepearls @volcanoxxx @kastrup-sofie @mikkal-akasaki @withoutashadowofhope @radbluebirdeagle @marvel-fan-site @smutloversblog @buquete @super-psycho-love69 @tanglesss @peter-sommer @baysidewest @vegemania @philip-stan @chodiusmmm @subwaystunnel @tykorclint @dagger-dragger  @kurant @nothing-can-least-forever @oxfordkipem @deliciousbouquet90 @tuptuptup @hellenna80 @karina-marina9 @latimeriaaa @bratko @wurld89 @scott-evans @kiss-me-rouge @ovonel-espaniol @dancing-tacco @ratugadhi @white-tiger-shangrila @axn69 @eternal-life-awaits @mrs-laura-harmon @artsy-inside @gleeeeees @darkllaama @jatut @agawux @fuzzy-tigrrr @jrjohnsson2 @maaargoshaaa @dontgetmewrongman @einexx @nwmtagsb @anini71 @secretlygrantaire @kyloren-supreme-ben @infinity-stones-seeker @thehappyspider @wings4life @huxyluxy @dontbeafraidchild @misafiryanki​ @electronicpatrolcollective​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @aulika​ @hidden-secrets69​ @a-happy-wolf​ @creative-seahorse​

[tbh-entp]

Hi, Can you make a list of different Entps types that there are or at least that you’ve met? Thanks!

lOL yes. I’m just going to go through my people then. So here I present: The ENTPs I know as types of ENTPS as told by an ENTP: 

I’m putting it under the cut because it’s long 

Grandma

The ENTP who has been through literally everything--made a ton of mistakes but came out ultimately on top because she learns fabulously quick and is smarter than every single person

Long story short--this woman was given away from her fam in the 30s because she was too black (loorrrd help me), grew up unwanted, followed an older brother across the US to this place where she met her (meh) husband, had a ton of kids, got a degree in her 50s, got her 9 kids through pOVERTY, wellfare, racism, kicked that husband out, married again, managed to buy a house and get it done

She’s the type of person to look at someone and be like... give me a second. I’m about to charm them, I’ll be back ;) 

Kept her money in her bra

My pops

The ENTP who is cutthroat in business but a cinnamon role as soon as he’s out of the tie

like a mullet kinda

Son of Grandma ENTP

Has the slim cut pants and tailored shirts and fires many people (but genuinely hates it because they have a fam, yo). If it’s cut and dry, if the person can’t do the job, they shouldn’t be paid

Wears those bucket hats on vacation and does not give a fuck that he looks, sounds, and acts like an American tourist

Does not sleep

Thinks most people are idiots, but will not say this out loud

Should hire people to do the fixer-upper stuff around the house because will not be able to finish (or do it well tbh)

cLINGY to INTJ wife, god he’s so loyal and in love it’s gross

poor mom

Myself ;) 

The ENTP who has gotten too far in life for how lazy she is. she’s like an empty vessel that made it all the way across the ocean and then someone opens it and they’re like damn... maybe another bottle deserved this

Daughter of my pops and granddaughter of grandma (obviously)

Can lie right through her teeth if it’s for the greater good or if it harms no one 

comes back and bites her often

Thinks most people are idiots and will say this out loud

Somehow managed to make her insults sound nice and friendly--normally is nice and friendly though

boyfriend had to tell her to shush when she said “I like my officemate, but not very much” on a group bus ride-

Really good at art for some reason, has been in many art shows and has sold art and whenever someone comes up with an interpretation of her work she just agrees with it because she was just drawing a picture..

depressingly manipulative

Has no vision and no urge to stick to anything, but thankfully can see opportunity, so is casually living a great life although she’s not emotionally attached to it at all

how did she get here 

The hippest summer school gal who’s name I cannot remember for the life of me but let’s call her Gab

The ENTP who is the best person to be around because she is genuinely a mESS -- but probably not good to be around forever

Only person to put tacks on a teacher’s chair 

Farts in class and blames it on others

Smart talks teachers and they like her anyway

Will be the good friend to tell you that you have food in your teeth or that you look like a traffic cone in your running outfit

Cut class, when she got in trouble, she told the lady in charge that she hadn’t been in trouble in this way before and was nervous because she was just acting out so that her divorced parents would focus on her for once-- also complimented the woman’s skirt

bud got off the hook...

also her parents were married

Once stole sodas from another summer camp, came back to our course, when the teacher was like, where did you get those from.. you’re not supposed to have those, Gab was like, oh the kids gave them to us! I didn’t know they were not allowed, we can take them back, or give them to you. I’m so sorry, I should’ve known it wasn’t allowed. 

And the teacher fell for it

The type of ENTP who one shouldn’t hang around probably

But geesh she was fun

Norwegian study abroad friend, or NSAF

The developed and balanced ENTP male who is for sure mistaken for an INTP by a young, untrained American eye because he’s quieter and relatively mature enough to experience his emotions

The walking definition of loyal. He took his best friend everywhere on his bike handles 

Though emotional, he expressed them much like a calculator expresses numbers

he fell for another friend of mine and she was like... man he’s straightforward (she was a rollercoaster though, so compared to that)

Clever, quick, smart, sharp as a tack

He was a quiet version of me--which was fun at first, but then we realized that we bored each other when we were around each other for too long, so we had our own sets of friends, and met up for special occasions to annoy people with witty talk and jokes that only the rationals, INFJs, INFPs, and ENFPs caught 

Awkward hugger

Chilean Man

The immature and unbalanced ENTP male who is also 30

who I get along with very well anyway because we think alike but who I cannot support most of the time

Offensive jokes to those who can be affected

All races, nationalities, genders, heights, blahs are not safe if they so much as make an annoyed face to anything he says

I’d managed to be exempt from this for a while until he discovered that I’m annoyed by these non american people making fun of my accent and calling it Texan (it is not Texan). I know not to respond but he found my button

Sex jokes

Easily one of the smartest in the lab

knows this

he’s not wrong though 

Gets away with spending more money because the boss loves him with reason, he gets results

Where the ego in the lab is far too large, his insecurities bleed into his personality

He eats poorly, is very single and objectifies women when I’m not around 

I called him insecure the one time he did it while I was around, and that ended that

Respects people who he thinks are as smart as he is

Only talks about things he wants to talk about. Gets annoyed by conversations on the peripheral of his interests

Mr. Tesla the Technician

The gadget obsessed ENTP who is the literal jack of all trades

Probably had a Harley and a leather jacket as a youth tbh

Also looks far too young to have a daughter that is my age, like only to grey streaks

Can fix anything and is in charge of other technicians

enjoys saying, i’ll call up my guys 

Generally loves telling people what to do, but hates being in charge of too many people--which he has to do every year when he has to teach the labs

Enjoys some light insulting to those who he know can take it

You look tired today

You’re not fired yet?

I told Karen to take the trash out but you’re still here

Sunshine in the lab because he gets stuff done and he’s totally hilarious

[bates--boy]

One would think that after a couple quick naps and a large helping of chocolate ice cream, Peter would feel...not exactly better, but calm enough to record a better review for that dumpster fire called a game, but nope! He's back to seething all over again, he can't even return the game now that it's a melted pellet, and he's down to one cigarette.

So, he pulls on his jacket and heads out, talking a lovely little walk in the rain to the convenience store. A long line and a purchase of cancer sticks later, Peter is hanging by his favorite lamppost, unable to wait until he got home to break into his pack and suck the tar and nicotine goodness.

It would be better if that older gentleman a few feet away would stop throwing narrow-eyed glares at him.

"Can I fucking help you?" Peter challenges the other around the cigarette pinched between his lips.

The older man sneers, giving him the once-over, eyes lingering a moment longer at the flowy and floral skirt Peter chose to put on for a simple cigarette run, and shakes his head. "Jävla fjolla..."

Oh, Swedish. He probably heard the different accent Peter has been working so hard to replace, as well as Peter's mistake of automatically going to English in his upset state. And when Peter tilts his head and cocks a brow, the older piece of shit must have mistaken it for a confused tourist, with that throaty snort and head bob.

And Peter pulls the language switch. <"Oh, I'm sorry. Is this better? Can you understand me, now? Do you have a problem with the way I'm dressed? Is it personally ruining your sweet morning?">

The older man blinks, momentarily taken aback by the nearly flawless Swedish, and Peter thinks that this bastard will shut up and mind his own business.

But the man resumes his scowl, it actually gets deeper this time, and says, <"First you little fruits can't keep it in the bedroom, you have to have your special day and bring out those clowns in the makeup and fake tits, and now you can't even go one day dressed normally. In front of children. Your generation's in the toilet.">

And Peter laughs. He laughs, even when the cigarette smoke is choking him and burning his lungs. He takes it out of his mouth and licks his thumb to put the burning end out. The pain registers, but he ignores it, putting the remaining stick behind his ear.

<"Oooh, you really want to do this today, huh? You really want to fuck with the right one, huh?"> Peter folds his hands in front of his face, chuckling and reciprocating that once-over.

<"Well, shit, my guy, I'm sorry that 'my generation'--"> he can't even do the air quotes right, he's howling, because this guy looks like he is at least thirty years Peter's junior, <"--aren't out here crushing their children's dreams in a pair of Reebok's off-brand cousin that had just now gotten out of the dusty box in the attic.>

<"I know it must be pretty hard to keep your blood pressure down when you think about all the dick I must be sucking -- and clit, because I'm bi, since it's all of a sudden your fucking business-- and squeezing that tragic stomach into that fifty krona Ralph Lauren knock-off polo shirt. But I will say I like your pants: that shit must be made of the toughest fabric if it can support that paunch of yours. Too bad it couldn't support that failed marriage of yours.">

The man reels, his right hand flying to his left, covering the pale line circling his ring finger. The man purses his lips, but oh no, Peter is not done.

<"You know, if you had taken better care of yourself instead of worrying about what strangers are wearing, your wife wouldn't have let that mailman give her a quick spin on his dick every damn day. Instead of hating on guys in dresses or girls with buzz cuts, you would have shown more love to your kids, but noooo, you're up in the wee hours of the morning lashing at some stranger, and I bet your kids are avoiding you like that hairline is avoiding your forehead.>

<"Oh, why are you crying, huh? Why are you crying?!"> Peter crouches down to get in the huddled man's face. There's a blaring alarm going off in the back of his head, saying enough, he's had enough, just go home and hug your pets and maybe take your meds, but still, Peter screeches, <"Didn't your papa ever tell you that real men don't cry?! Isn't that one of the issues with us fruits these days, too, that we cry too much? Where's that energy, man? Where's your fucking manhood, huh? Yeah, I bet you wish you wear skirts now, huh? Get enough room so your balls could grow instead of being squeezed in that nightmare you call pants!">

<"Goddamn, dude...">

Peter's eyes fly up to the source of the comment. And when he sees the kid a few feet away, gawking, Peter straightens up and stomps away.

<"FUCK IT ALL!"> He rings out into the air.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 22

Chapter Summary -  Tom and Danielle talk online until Danielle is called away for work.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog  @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Danielle Hughes is online.

TH – So, what’s this about you being a Safety Officer?

DH – Well hello to you too stranger, is there a reason you have not spoken to me in, say a month and a half?

TH – Communication goes two ways, Hughes.

DH – Touché. As for the job, I didn’t want you insisting you would try to help, because you know Irlam, and he is the guy to know. I wanted it to be off my hard work, no one else's.

TH - That’s fair enough, I can respect that. How is it going there?

DH – Well Coronation Street wasn’t really my sort of thing, I mean, the work was interesting, but I wasn’t invested, but now…I know what happens next season.

TH - Tease.

DH – I swear, if there wasn’t an NDA the size of most US states after being thrown down my throat, I would tell you.

TH – I know that feeling, Disney is the worst with the Marvel Franchise.

DH – Speaking of Disney, guess who is working on the Beauty and the Beast AND The Lion King!!!!!!!

TH – The number of exclamation marks kinda gave you away, just a warning. ;)

DH – Yeah, but I am just so excited, and I can actually half talk to you about this. You know Emma Watson, don’t you?

TH – Well I’m honoured, I know Emma a bit, she is another one of Luke’s clients so we have spoken a few times, very intelligent and professional.

DH – Shut up you twat, I haven’t met her yet, but no doubt I will soon, they are doing read over's already.

TH – No really Elle, I am so delighted for you. Did you tell mum yet?

DH – Not yet, I know she is going to go all “My adoptive baby is all gone” you know her.

TH – Yeah, I got that treatment already, but she will want this for you, Elle. How is Paul about it?

Tom cursed himself for typing it, he was so concerned with trying to talk to her, he had typed it before thinking it over. She did not respond for several minutes.

DH – I guess he wasn’t thrilled, but this is everything I have worked so hard for, I can’t give it up for anyone.

TH – I know that feeling too.

DH – I swear I am not trying to get rid of you Tom, but we have a scene I have to check over, I will talk to you soon okay? 6 Weeks is too long between chats.

Danielle Hughes has logged off.

Tom stared at the screen in front of him; part of him thought she was simply trying to get rid of him, but her inclusion at the end that she wanted to talk to him again soon lifted his spirits. He wondered what she meant regarding Paul, it did not seem like things were on good terms on that front; he knew he couldn’t press too much, that would not be appropriate, especially since she knew his stance on the doctor since the racial comment situation, but the fact that there had clearly been some form of issue regarding her new semi-nomadic lifestyle meant the relationship had not fallen at the first hurdle, much to his annoyance.

*

“Danni.” Danielle winced at the use of that name; she was never overly fond of it when Paul called her it, but when her new workmates began to call her it, she never corrected them, leaving her in the position now where she felt she had to leave it go. “A penny for your thoughts.” Robert Boake, the locations manager called. “If you heard them, you’d offer thousands for me to retract them.” She commented, putting down her phone and turning to him.

The older man chuckled. “You are Irish, right?” “Last I checked.” “Where can I get cliffs?” “It’s an island nation, you’re not exactly stuck for options.” He gave her a scolding look. “What kind?”

“Big, but not overly populated by tourists, no land off in the distance.” “Well Cliffs of Moher are too popular, getting them closed would be a terrible pain in the ass, I suppose most areas are good, there are some near Dublin, but that’s the main shipping lane route, up these areas Scotland is in the distance for a lot of it, South isn’t great for cliffs, I suppose you could go to Clare, Kilkee has some good cliffs if I am not mistaken, at least from what I can remember from when I was a kid, windy, vast, and easily as good as Moher.”

“How do you spell that?” Boake began typing into Google.

“K-I-L-K-E-E.” she stated, waiting for his reaction.

“Fuck me, they’re perfect.” He beamed. “How far are they from here?” “Couple of hours drive.” “Brilliant, pack an overnight, we are off to this place. Someone get my PA, we need rooms booked in a nearby hotel.” “Wait, I’m coming?” Danielle looked at him.

“We are going to be shooting there, of course, you are needed.” He stated as though it the most obvious thing in the world.

“Right, when are we heading?” “Tomorrow, at the latest.”

“Well then, I better go back to my hotel room after this scene and get a bag, you know my number to give me the details.” Danielle smiled as she went back to work.

“Thank you, Danni, I’ll have Sandra get onto to you when everything is sorted.”

* “I spoke to Danielle,” Tom stated.

“Hello to you too.” Benedict sat down across from him, his freshly ordered coffee in his hand. “And what says the object of your desire?” “Shut up.” Tom hissed, looking around, though no one seemed to be giving the two famous actors a second glance.

“You are the one to even make reference to her, it’s how you greeted me,” Benedict argued. “And what had she to say?” “She is happy, really happy, and has a few jobs lined up.” Tom smiled.

“Good, I’m glad for her.” “But she is still seeing Paul.” “How did that come up?” “I asked her what he thought of her new busier lifestyle.” “And the response?” “None too pleased.” Benedict raised his mug. “Trouble in paradise.” “She is in Ireland at the moment; her Facebook said she was somewhere down Southwest, looks gorgeous, but wet and windy.”

“That could literally be a description of anywhere in that country or this.” Benedict scoffed. “I always thought it looked a lot like Scotland.”

“She is off to wherever they are filming Beauty and the Beast next.” “Right.” “And the Lion King after that.” “Is there any Disney Movie they aren’t remaking?” “Doesn’t seem like it.” “She is really going places.” Benedict smiled.

“What am I going to do?” “You really want my opinion?” “Yes; hence why I am asking you,” Tom stated as though obvious.

“Did you make any friends in Ireland when you were there?” “Irons, he has a castle there.” “Is it near where she is?” “I have no idea.” “I think it’s time you checked, and also see if Mr Irons is free for a small chat, preferably within a few meters of wherever it is that Danielle is working.”

“That seems a little stalkerish.” “You are the one stalking her Facebook page and seem to know her every move. If you leave it too long, she will reconcile properly with Dr Prick Head or be fair game to whoever in production thinks they can bag a young intelligent woman for themselves.” “You don’t think she is good looking?” Tom noted his lack of any visual term.

Benedict put his hands up. “I am not answering that, she is your crush and I am a married man, there is no way I can answer that without pissing off two very important people in my life.” “I’ll tell Sophie you called Danielle a younger sexy her.”

“If you do that, I swear to God, Hiddleston, I will fucking kill you.” “I can’t take that statement seriously from you, you’re a Buddhist.” Tom scoffed.

[one-of-us-must-be-crazy]

Re: cute prompts—I would love to see their reactions if someone happened to assume they were a married couple for the first time while they were out and about one day. Perhaps they would roll with it, or maybe it would be a little awkward.

oooooooh 

This spiraled out of control and I think I’m going to completely rewrite it, but here you are. Mind you I am taking so many cold medicine right now.

The north side of the city had it’s ups and downs, and Samuels liked it in limited doses. Amanda barely tolerated it. She was duly proud of a lunar heritage, a second generation, born of fate or fluke of bad luck on the same rock her mother was, born into the generation that would fight for declaration of rights to Lunar citizens and their spouses, Amanda signed a couple petitions and turned out on election days when she remembered. There was just a fleeting moment of an echo of a victory when she heard the laws pass, how she imagined a casual sports fan must feel on hearing their home team’s first win in a long time, but it was gone when she heard someone call her name across the crowded cafeteria, and the dull roar of the dockhands all rushing into lunch hour over powered that of the TV. 

Mostly, the fact she’s a lunar only occurs to her when she starts her internal, bitching monologue at how much she absolutely fucking hates Luna City. Smaller than New York, twice as shiny, and every inch more valuable than her life three times over, and all the music and film and art producers; it was noisy with tourists and the general unquiet ambience that Luna always had that unnerved from it’s great distance to Terra composes and artists for thousands of years. 

She’s been spending too much time indulging Samules’ interest in art and film, and she rubs her eyes at the harsh daylight after leaving the latest art gallery, old concept art from movies about Luna going back two hundred years complete with film cells from that one by the French guy who’s name she kept mispronouncing. 

“Everyone out here has charged us for admission for two,”

“Because there’s two of us, and this place is turning into the The Kingdom Park all over again,”

“Have you been?” he asks, vacantly, only recently letting himself look ahead beyond the following morning. 

“If you’re asking if I want to go, hell no. But yeah. I repaired the antique space themed coaster, a team I was on got contracted right after Weyland-Yutani bought the franchise. Have you been there?”

“No.” If he was going to ask something else, or question her opinion on some obscure creation they’d just seen inside, he changed his mind, and hurried slightly to walk in line with her. They fell into pace naturally once he caught up; he of slightly more than average height, and her on the tall side, their gaits were similar.  “So...it’s getting late,”

“Tired?”

“I don’t--I’m not--”

“I get it, okay? You aren’t physically tired, you don’t think they should have charged us for two tickets, and you probably aren’t hungry right now, but you know what? Maybe you’re mentally tired, and just want to relax now, maybe it’s better to shell out a little more an get to see how it feels to be treated like a human once in a while, and I don’t think you’ve ever tasted real ice cream.”

The crowds were thick, but no one acknowledged them, or the subject of Amanda’s short rant. Moments of silence passed before Samuels very subtly offered her his arm, and Amanda linked hers through it instantly. There had been very few times in her life that she had wanted to hold someone’s hand in public, but if he was going to offer, she’d take it. She walked a little closer to him too.

“I only mentioned it was getting late in case you wanted to get something to eat for yourself,”

“Treating a girl to a day out and dinner? And expecting nothing in return?” she was teasing, but as close to him as she was she could feel him get a little warmer. “Don’t worry,” she smiles, admittedly a little tired, admittedly more interested in a hot shower alone and curling up in bed with him in the warmest pajamas she owned, “You can have whatever you want later,”

“I--thank you? Where do you want to get dinner?”

“Cafe next block up might have less screaming children than the pizza place,”

“Sounds like a logical option,” 

Amanda’s noes crinkled, and she bit back her ‘okay, Spock,’ comment. They’ve had a lot of small and sweet moments today, and it’s starting to make her feel uncomfortable.Inside the cafe is full, but not crowded, and Amanda crosses quickly to a row of tables along the back windows, far away from the noise from the street. She doesn’t bother with a menu, all these places have the same junk, and she mostly just wanted a coffee anyway, but Samuels already has a menu out and opened, even though she’s never seen him consume anything closer to food than a black coffee.“All the....items are named after lunar flights.”

“Welcome to tourist hell. Why do you think I live south of the city?”

“Tranquility and it’s surrounding districts are more...utilitarian.”

“Ugly as hell but affordable.”

“And a dozen of my face walking around,”

“Among other synthetics.”

“Do you know what you’re getting?”

“I was just going to get a coffee here and order take away on the way home,”

“Order whatever you’d like,”

She didn’t know many live-in couples, but the few she did all complained of the same thing: running out of things to talk about, and now, even after spending so much time seeing and doing things, she couldn’t think of five words to string together to make any kind of conversation. He’s too good for me, a part of her said, An actual human would be more companionable, another crueler part of her mind insisted. She shook her head a little in hopes to shut up both sides, only hearing the ending of a conversation that didn’t involve her.“Amanda?”

“What, sorry?” for not being an ‘actual human’ his expression was all bemused admiration as she forced her train of thought back into the present, and the young waitress (a hideous uniform in general theme of ‘retro space’ that half this part of the city had: red mini skirt, blue blouse, white boots, and eyeliner that the 1970′s wanted back) looking a little entertained by him.

“The waitress asked what you wanted,”

“Take your time,” the waitress said, “Your husband was saying you guys just went to gallery row, if you’re staying much longer I was going to suggest the museum of science fiction.”

“I’m a local,” Amanda said, correcting her. Samuels looked like someone had walked up behind her and put a gun to the back of her head, and she almost turned around to see what was going on. “He’s the one that’s new here,”

“Well, welcome to Luna,” the girl smiled brightly as he came back online,

“Thank you, I’ve...had a very good time here so far.” 

“And keep giving him ideas,” Amanda smiled, “He’s not my husband. Not yet.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! What can I get for you guys?”

“Coffees, two, black, and we’ll split a strawberry cake slice?”Samuels is still staring at Amanda, partially confused and paritlaly shocked, looking rather frightened, long after the waitress had come and gone with their food and more pleasantries.

“Chris, take it easy you look like you were handed a divorce statement, not a mistaken for married,”

“You weren’t upset,”

“No?”

“Would you want to be married?”

“We’ve been dating for a month,”

“We’re dating?”

“I don’t know what concerns me more, the fact that you didn’t realize we were dating, or the fact that you were asking if I wanted to marry you when you didn’t think we were dating.”

“I know--I know we’re together, but I thought dating implied...I don’t know. We live together. I don’t know what that makes us.”

“Sinners?”

“You always struck me as more modern than that,”

“Very true, I’m just trying to see what will make you crack a smile. You look like you’re stressed.”

“I am. But--I mean it, what does that make us?”

“Dating, I guess. A couple, internally I keep thinking of you as my boyfriend but that doesn’t sound dignified enough for you. Man-friend makes me sound like an old woman trying to hide from her grandchildren that she’s dating again.”

“So....you would be my girlfriend?”

“If you’d like,” she sipped at her coffee, hoping to just finish it and go home, not sure if she wanted to sit him down and lecture him on general norms of dating again, or kiss him until that stupid look was finally off his face.

“But would you want to be married?”

“Jesus, I don’t know! I like you a lot, more than--I’ve really cared about anyone in a long time. But again, I haven’t known you that long.”

“Out of pure curiosity, how long would...you have to be in a relationship, in any good relationship, before you would want to get married?”

“I don’t know if I want to get married? To anyone--not just to--Chris, this isn’t--I don’t know how long. I don’t know how I could ahead of time. You’re...you’re more and more human every day and yeah, I already feel like this is work, but I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time so maybe that’s just how these are, but married?”

“I would like it...I think. It’s--a closeness I’d like to have with y--...with someone. I have no expectations on a time line but I don’t know about... Well, any of it. Anything.”

“To be honest, neither do I...But we can learn,”

“I like that idea,”

“Good. So do I,”

[chaniters]

TURNING POINT

Awan finds Lord Ember’s warehouse and starts looking for his revenge, only to come upon a Villain who forces him to make a critical decision.  

Enjoy! (And thanks @kruk-art for letting me write about your OC). 

Warning heavy spoilers!

__________________________________

You get off the bus and lower your shields as you start walking towards the storehouse.

Hopefully, your scan will be wide enough to reveal any guards before they spot you.

There are no lights on these dark streets, yet you stick to the corners. Anyone could have night vision and catch you in the dark.

It's subtle, but you can definitely feel their presence ahead. They haven't spotted you yet, but it would be impossible to go ahead without getting detected.

Impossible for some maybe. Not for you.

You kneel and focus your mind. One... two... three... six... you project illusions into their mind. A large group of people walking by... tourists lost and looking at their phones. You just hope they don't use binoculars... You're not good enough to add enough details with two guards looking at once. They are just colored blobs with hats, they should hopefully resemble people in the distance.

The guards focus on the empty spot while you slip inside through a service door. You make the tourists walk away out of sight before making them disappear. It would be a mess if they just poofed into thin air, that'd be a rookie mistake. You would be one to know.

Your hand goes instinctively into your bag... The grenades are there. Not enough money to buy proper equipment, but you can steal spare parts and build what you need. And you needed a way to deal with Lord Ember. If your science is correct, this will be enough... Void and Medea are an unexpected problem. You'll have to work on that on the go. Hopefully, you can catch Lord Ember unaware and then escape...?

First things first... You spy into the guard's minds once more...  

It takes a while, but you make a point to memorize the layout of the warehouse.  

The plan is quite straight forward... Find the drug lab... set it on fire... kill Lord Ember with your grenade... and run away.

You want revenge for Nathaniel's death, but you are a practical individual. You'd rather not be seen by someone who can shoot streams of fire powerful enough to turn people to ash in seconds. Killing him should be enough, no matter if he knows why.

The lab is right behind the door in front of you. You take your hand to the handle... but you fall flat instead, narrowly avoiding an energy blast directed at your head.

You roll to the side and see the masked individual approaching you. You were lucky your mind picked his attack in time, or you'd probably be dead right now.

Shit.

The Void.

He seems to be powering up his weapon again. No time for second thoughts. You take the lid of a metal trash bin in front of you and swing it at him.

Bullseye!

The impact makes him drop the energy rifle, and you follow by charging at him with a fist aimed at his face.

He blocks and ...

And then you both stop.

"412?" he asks.

"Nathaniel?" you ask petrified. It's his mind under that mask. You can't be mistaken.

"You... you're here? How? I looked everywhere for you that night! Where did you go? I thought the Directive took you in again!" he puts the gun down.

"I..." you are speechless. But he asked you a question "I thought Ember killed you? How did you...survive?" even as you speak, the realization comes to you. "Wait... were you... were you Ember's accomplice all along?" It starts making sense. That's how they found you... that's how they caught the guards and you unaware... Nath told you to bring him some ammo from the van... and it all happened while you were gone.

"Well... Yes. I was going to tell you but I couldn't with those guards in front of us. I figured I could have some time alone but those fuckers really had it in for you... Well, they did get what they had coming for harming my doll" he chuckles.

"So...you helped Ember steal the drugs?"

"I told you, once the mission was over,  it'd be all be alright for us! And you're here now! This is just perfect! We're free of those idiots... no more farm... just life ahead for us!" he says patting your shoulder. He does that... unlike other handlers who wouldn't touch you with a stick.

"What's with the... " you ask gesturing at his costume

"It's my new identity," he says posing tall. "I'm The Void now. We'll get you a new identity too... with the two of us... we won't need to work for Ember much longer... We'll get our own thing going in no time. This is just what we need to get started" you can sense the plans already forming in his mind. "Mentor? The Mind? Hypnos? So many options for your name" he laughs "God i missed you so much 412!"

"I'm not sure I like those identities," you say stepping back.

"Oh, right... you're growing up! Asserting your own personality... I love that, few dolls live long enough to get there. You're going to be among the select few. Well, tell you what, you can choose your name yourself if you want... I'm so fucking relieved you're here. It'll all be so much easier now."

"No, I mean... I don't think I want to be a supervillain?" you cringe as you speak the words

"Nonsense! We'll make millions like this! With my mods and your telepathy, we'll make a hell of a team... like we always did!"

"But you are killing people! Those drugs... there are dozens of deaths already! And Ember is killing his own men too!"

"We did that all the time back at the farm, or did you forget about that?" he says giving you a condescending look.

"But those... were criminals!"

"Heh. Yeah... depending on your point of view I guess? They can make anyone a criminal these days..."

You almost choke as you hear him say that.

"I don't... I don't want to kill anyone! I never wanted to kill anyone..! Except for Ember... for killing you... but now you're fucking alive?!"  You just want to scream right now.

"Woah... slow down Don't you see how this is meant to be? I lost you in Alaska and now you've found your own way back to me. You and I are a team, remember?"

"Yes... I ... remember"

"So stop whining already. You are going to join me. I'll introduce you to Ember. He'll be over the moon!... We're going to be great"

"No"

"Maybe we can get Medea to help with your costu... what?"

"I said No" You repeat yourself. You are starting to get a bad migraine from this. You even sense a faint buzzing static in the background.

"Whatever do you mean with "no" ?"

"I'm not going to join you! I don't want to be a fucking villain! Or a Hitman! And I thought you were better than this! I thought WE were better than this..." 

"Better than... What the fuck is wrong with you?" he says taking your arm. "Is this another one of your tantrums? Stop this nonsense. We are DOING this"

"I'm leaving," you say freeing yourself 

"I'm ORDERING you to do it!" he says using his authority as your handler.

Only he's no longer your handler. He's a criminal.

"I...hate you!" You don't even have words for this. His mind just thinks you're being incredibly childish and stupid and that he knows what’s best... And you can't stand it  "I'm leaving... fuck you, Nathaniel," you say walking away.

You clean some tears from your eyes as you walk. The murdering idiot is actually making you cry. Fuck this. Fuck it all. You're not staying.

"COME BACK RIGHT NOW! YOU ARE MINE AND YOU'LL DO AS I SAY!"

"You don't fucking own me!" you say without stopping while giving him the finger "I'm never coming back to you."  

"STOP, RIGHT NOW!" he yells furious.

And then you sense it without turning back. ... he's drawing his gun. He's got you in his sights.

"STOP OR I WILL FUCKING SHOOT YOU!"

"You're not going to shoot me, Nath. We were a team. I saved you so many times. You can't do it. I'm going to leave right now. Do whatever you want but leave me alone"

You know he can't do it. You've seen your mind trough and trough... You've known him for so long, there is simply no way he could...

And then your brain warns you he's started pulling the trigger. You try to dodge... But the mods in his left eye make him a perfect Marskman. He corrects his sights... and the energy beam sends you to the ground in pain.

You crawl forwards in the floor, trying not to scream. It hurts so much...

You see his boot near your face.

"I warned you. You belong to me. I'm the only one you've got! I was there when no one else wanted you!"  he speaks while checking the contents of your bag.

"We are together in this, and it's not up for debate." He takes your arms and starts dragging you through the warehouse. You try to struggle, but it only makes the pain worse.

Finally, he lets you down in a small empty room.

"We'll have a chat as soon as I take care of some pending business... So you better learn some manners fast," he says crouching near you.

You try to look away but he forces you to look at him, with a hand on your chin.

"You are MINE. Remember it!"

"You don't... own me" you repeat weakly.

He answers by getting really close, within inches of your face.

"A doll without a handler? Don't be ridiculous. You know you couldn't function, least of all survive out here without me. Maybe I'll leave you here to enjoy your nightmares for a few days, see how you change your tune soon enough... None of the other handlers wanted you, and perhaps I was too patient with you... That's going to change."  

He lets go and slaps you down as you open your mouth again. And then...he justs stands up and leaves the room and taking your grenades with him.

You hear a key turning inside the lock.

Shit. You have to get out of here.

But first, you need to stop the fucking tears...

____________________________________

My Fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero    

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[teaspoonofhoney]

Random ML headcanons (feel free to add on)

• Chat Noir is more Tumblr famous that LB

• A lot of people at school ship Marichat considering he has saved her like 6 times

• Ladybug and Chat Noir fight non-Akuma crimes/ disasters too

- “ it’s getting a lil heated” “chat we’re in a burning building”

• Marinette is a really good singer

• Akuma Alerts (yknow like the ones that show up on your phone)

- Also “Chat Noir on the loose” because he runs around quite often and happens to scare a lot of parisians & tourists because they think an Akumas happening

• Because Chat Noir runs away around so much like 60% of Paris knows him personally

• Marinette has a disguise just incase she loses her earrings

• Marinette’s bakery is #6 on TOP TEN THINGS TO DO WHEN IN PARIS

• Everyone in social media trinna figure out who these kids are

- “this week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we cover the mysterious secret identities of Ladybug and Chat Noir.” (don’t fuck with me i love Ryan and Shane)

• Adrien curses like a sailor

• Nino was probably Vine famous before it shut down

• Marinette’s grandmother is Miranda Priestly from The Devil Wears Prada

• Marinette is the girl who thinks she’s total shit but half the school has a crush on her

• Adrien pretends he doesn’t know (cmon guys he’s chat noir)

• Chloe is hella gay

• Marinette considers Chat Noir as one of her best friends

• if Chat Noir was ever to visit Mari (like in the fanfics), she’d probably beat his ass with a lamp

• Nino calls Adrien “Rupunzel” sometimes

• The whole class constantly do the “The Floor’s Lava” challenge

• Adrien reads Ladynoir fanfiction

• The public thinks LB & CN are perfect for each other too

-Ladybug = logic and strategy

-Chat Noir = passion and trust

^ literally what’s on half of their merch

• there’s a whole brand of clothes based of Akuma’s costumes

• Father Tom is taller that Father Gabriel

• Marinette feels bad because everyone hates Lila so she takes her in

• Alya is a die hard Game Of Thrones fan

• Chloe has pictures of Sharpay Evans, Regina George, and Chanel Oberlin in her locker for inspiration

• Mari listens to Cardi B

• LB & CN hang all their fan letters and fan art on their wall

• Adrien’s middle name starts with an “A”

- so his anitial’s are “AAA”

• Ladybug likes to take the children from hospitals and orphanages shopping on their birthdays and holidays

• whenever kids are asked what they wanna be when they grow up they say “Ladybug”

THINK ABOUT THE CHILDREN

• Mari gets “mistaken” for LB a lot

-*in the bakery talking to an american tourist*

“has anyone ever told you you look like Ladybug?”

“no, they usually tell me i look like Marinette.”

“who the fuck is that?”

“me, bitch.”

• Kim and Mari are really good friends

• Chat Noir likes to jump scare LB

-she usually just laughs “you’re an asshole Chat Noir”

[misomilk]

hi :) is it possible to get an answer for all of the country questions? if no, can i pls get the answer to what you think of translations to eng, your fave song in your native tongue and fave author?

Hello~! You’re so sweet, anon. Thanks for giving me something to do to pass the time while I ignore what I’m supposed to do. LOL

This was so much fun to answer. I hope you pick up things about where I’m from. :) Have an awesome day!!!

1. favourite place in your country? I really love El Nido. It’s super pretty, and not so tourist-filled the last time I went. (That was many, many years ago…) The water is so clear. The critical spots for animals are properly preserved. Gosh. It was perfect. :’) Arashi’s Aiba Masaki had gone there HUEHUEHUE Too bad I went like, a year before he did. A year before I ever found Arashi. XD The beaches of the Philippines are really super lovely.

2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad? I prefer traveling abroad. I pretty much fly to Japan every chance I get. LOL But if I were to travel with family, yes. I’d rather just kick back and relax in one of our beaches. We went to Coron last time! It was beautiful, too. But El Nido remains my favorite.

3. does your country have access to sea? Yes! We see the sea all over. (laughs over XV joke)

4. favourite dish specific for your country? Oh, boy, oh boy. I gotta name three of them.1) Kare-kare - I guess?? It’s our version of curry but it’s so different from any other curry. It’s peanut-based, normally soupy, with boiled vegetables and (typically) ox tongue. I love my mom’s take on it. Very thick sauce and very peanut-y. * W * She uses normal beef parts bec I dont eat ox tongue.2) Lumpiang Shanghai - this is probs taken from Chinese cuisine but still. Very Filipino in its own way. Always see it in parties. I LOVE IT.3) Adobo - The #1 Filipino dish, probs. I think there’s no “XXX tastes Filipino Food” video out there that doesn’t include this. Every household has its own take on it—white or brown, sweet or salty, soupy or not. I LOVE IT A LOT. Brown, sweet, and soupy, please.

For desserts, I fuckin love leche flan, ube (purple yam) and pichi-pichi.

5. favourite song in your native language? I fucking love “Ang Huling El Bimbo” (The Last El Bimbo) by Eraserheads and “Beer” by Itchyworms. They’re my go-to karaoke songs, and are very much #hugot—which is the word we use for when we “pull out all them feels”, normally related to heartbrokenness. I’m not particularly heartbroken atm, but these songs are just so good.Lately, I’ve been hearing the song “Tagu-taguan” (Hide and Seek) by Bita and the Botflies. I hear it on the radio. I love it coz it gives me such Shiina Ringo vibes.

6. most hated song in your native language? probably that fuckin moshi moshi ano ne song. it makes fun of those japanese words :/ and any song by william revillame (an asshole gameshow host) or used in Eat Bulaga. hayyyyy :/

7. three words from your native language that you like the most?1) takipsilim - deep word for ‘sunset’2) bukang liwayway - deep word for ‘sunrise’3) ulap - lit. ‘cloud’bonus: nakakapagpabagabag - lit. ‘worrisome’ bec it felt like a tongue twister when i was younger. hahahabonus2: maharlika - lit. ‘nobility’ just bec it sounds cool hahaha

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom? strangely, though I am Filipino, I get mistaken (by fellow Filipinos) to either be Chinese, Korean or Japanese. I guess it’s in the way I dress?

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best? I know Japan best. For sure. Haahaha. I have no other nearby country that I want to travel to.

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language? ‘pakshet’, which is just ‘fuck shit’ but said tagalog-like? XD

11. favourite native writer/poet? I’m sadly not well-versed in our native prose. See, it’s hard for me to understand my own language sometimes. :’( But I hear Ricky Lee is very good.

12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem? Hmm, strange. I haven’t heard of any English translations of our books, actually???? I think it’d be really cool if there were! But I guess Filipino prose/poetry isn’t popular enough to be translated. XD

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders? I think we have a lot. Like, removing the ring on someone’s finger when you weren’t the one that put it on them means you’ll get in a fight with them. (Personally, I extend it to bracelets. LOL) Or, we can’t take a shower after 3pm on Good Friday bec blood will come out instead of water. xD

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV? No. It has very shallow comedy, or really awful flat storylines. We have really good quality films, but sadly those aren’t the ones that catch attention here. :/

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get? “susmaryosep”, i guess? (Jesus Mary Joseph) Is that considered a saying? Somehow my first thought was: “bababa ba?” (are we going down?) HAHAHA that cracks me up every time it’s used in the elevator when foreigners are around. They get this look like, “… did they really just understand each other?”

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with? I HATE that people assume when we go to other countries it’s either to be prostitutes, caretakers or maids. :/ What do I somewhat agree with……… that we’re cheerful people.

17. are you interested in your country’s history? yes, but idk where to start. I wish I’d listened more carefully back when I was still in high school or college.

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language? No TWT I want to speak Kapampangan, which my sisters and my dad speak. By the time I was born, we already moved to the city, so, I didnt have the chance to learn it.

19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem? The flag, yes. The Anthem, tho there are parts that are iffy, yes.

20. which sport is The Sport in your country? Pacquiao’s boxing. specifically Pacquiao’s boxing. -_- I HATE IT. I wish we had more baseball. I’m glad we’ve been getting more into volleybal in the recent years.

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be? A Filipino treat, like Napoleones or bibingka or ube. And, an abaca fan.

22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed? I’m proud of our beaches. They’re seriously so B E A U T I F U L— go north or south. I’m also proud of the Filipino hospitality, although I for one am not so amazing at that bec of my introvert-ness. LOLI’m ashamed of a whole lot of aspects, sadly. Like how a lot are poor, yet we have a fuckton of malls. The government is shit. (Always has been since I can remember.) Many Filipinos are racist, sexist, homophobic bastards that focus on physical wayyy too much. It’s awful. Just. AWFUL.

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country? San Mig or Red Horse beer, I think. I don’t like those tho.

24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country? Every other nation aside from ours, I think. :/ If there’s one that sticks out more than others, maybe China.

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country? YES. I’D ANSWER YES IN A HEARTBEAT. HAHAHA I’d so love to be born Japanese instead. Their values really resonate with mine. Sometimes my mom, my bosses and my friends say that I’m a Japanese spirit lost in a Filipino body.

26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal? We get portrayed as the shitty English speaker who’s a maid.  I can fuckin speak in an awesome accent, thanks v much. In Japan we’re portrayed as hostesses in a bar and it really disheartens me. I don’t like it at all, but what can we do? sighs

27. favourite national celebrity? uhhhhh She’s not my “favorite” bec I’m not into local showbiz, but I really love seeing Liza Soberano. She’s so pretty (/o\)

28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites? YES! I guess my favorite would be Taal Lake, since it’s the one I get to see the most. It’s got a volcano in the middle of the lake!!

29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country? uhhh I dont think so

30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family? well, technically my family’s a mix of a whole lot of races: Chinese, Spanish, Japanese. Idk if I have American blood, otherwise I’d have the blood of all our conquerors in my system? XDD

Thanks again for asking!!