#i bet lee's world crumbled down when he saw will

[iamrizaka]

Winners will be crowned with laurels by their divine parents.

Apollo crowned Lee with a laurel wreath after his victory.

The wreath was presented to his father on a golden saucer by a pale and silent Will.

With overly pronounced tenderness, Apollo gently fixed the wreath in Lee's golden hair and lifted his face to his chin, leaving a cool kiss on his forehead.

"Humility and submission are your way to forgiveness, child my".

fuck you too, apollo

[franklyshipping]

The Definition of Evil ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

HERE WE HAVE ANOTHER WONDERFUL ANON PROMPT THAT IS VERY CUTE AND HOPEFULLY WILL LEAD TO LOTS OF CUTENESS AND WHOLESOMENESS! LET'S DO IT!

TAGGING: @darkipliler and @wilford-lee-warfstache

Wilford Warfstache was a very happy man. He was snuggled up in bed, nestled into the chest of the man he loved more than anything in the world, and said man was playing with his hair in the loveliest manner possible. Life was good. Wilford let out a gentle hum as he absently scrolled through Tumblr on his phone….and he ended up developing a frown. Now, he knew of course that all their fans on the internet were joking and being playful, but every time he saw a post about Dark being an “evil boi” or “the embodiment of Bad Shit™”, it got to Wilford a little bit. How could no one else see how perfect and sweet and wonderful Dark was?

‘What’s with the frown love?’

Wilford heard Dark ask, and when he looked up at him he couldn’t help but softly smile again. Dark was so considerate, and always noticed the subtlest things, whether it be specs of dust or changes in micro-expressions, Dark noticed all. Wilford let out a gentle sigh, softly kissing Dark’s chest as he set his phone aside and mumbled.

‘Sometimes I just hate how you’re cast as the evil baddie, y’know? I mean, I know us and the fans joke about it but….I wish they’d actually talk about how much of a sweetheart you actually are.’

Dark’s gaze softened down at Wilford, and he kissed Wilford’s temple tenderly with a smile. He was always caught off guard by Wilford’s dedicated love to him, and Dark just adored the hell out of Wilford Warfstache; he purred softly in response.

‘I know dear, but I assure you that I do not mind, frankly I find it quite fun projecting out my evil side and having that as my outward image…’

Dark softly nuzzled Wilford’s cheek, making the moustached man crack and smile and let out a hum at the affection, but then his frown returned as he looked up at his boyfriend.

‘But you don’t have an evil side, you’re sweet and tender to the core!’

Dark raised a surprised eyebrow; he accepted that yes, perhaps he was secretly nice, but he liked to think he did have quite a large degree of malevolence within him. Dark wondered of Wilford perhaps needed reminding of that fact. Dark playfully smiled, cocking his head at Wilford.

‘Oh? You don’t think I have any capacity for evil….at all?’

Wilford grinned, and playfully kissed Dark on the nose because he loved playing and being all soppy like this with him.

‘Nope! You are my tender red velvet cupcake through and through!’

Dark couldn’t help but blush at the nickname, trust Wilford to come up with nicknames that were unbearably flustering whilst somehow always being oddly fitting. Dark wasn’t going to let himself spiral into the realm of flusteredness though, that would only confirm Wilford’s words. Dark knew he had to prove his….darker side.

‘I bet I can prove you wrong.’

Dark smirked as Wilford cocked his head up at him curiously, before the moustached man squeaked as he was suddenly straddled by Dark, face heating up instantaneously. Wilford had no idea what was about to happen, but right now he didn’t care because he was blushing and giggling and getting giddier at how playful Dark was being. Wilford nibbled his lip as he spoke in a very excited voice.

‘Ohoho? Prahay tell how you plan toho do that?’

Dark smirked wider, cracked his knuckles, and crooned.

‘Raise your arms and you’ll see.’

As always with Wilford, his curiosity overcame any semblance of common sense inside him, and he immediately raised his arms. He grinned and cheekily wiggled for Dark as he replied.

‘Raised and ready honeypie.’

Dark chuckled fondly at how utterly adorable and giddy Wilford was, before he slipped his fingers under Wilford’s t-shirt onto his bare tummy so he could ever so gently tap the skin there. The light touches made Wilford gasp and tense….he knew what was coming now.

‘Oh I hope you are, because this is going to be truly malevolent….’

Wilford giggled at Dark’s purr, getting goose-bumps from nervous excitement. It was no secret that Wilford adored being tickled, especially by Dark….but ah…..Dark wasn’t going to give him what he wanted so easily.

‘Ohoho jeheez….’

Dark smirked, and let out a relaxed sigh, leisurely swirling and tracing his fingertips all over his soft sides and tummy.

‘Ahhhh yes, you’re very, very ticklish, aren’t you darling?’

Wilford bit his bottom lip as he let out the cutest whine known to man, Dark knew just how to tease him into flustered little pieces; that in combination with the gentle tickling was already making the whole thing rather….evil.

‘Yohohohou knohow I aham!’

Wilford giggled out, making Dark chuckle as his crimson eyes twinkled with loving amusement. Wilford flinched and whined even more when Dark’s fingers tapped just above his tender hipbones, and his cool, deep voice rang out unrelentingly.

‘I barely have to do anything and you’re a sweet little mess….perhaps in the future I should only tickle you like this, your reactions are ever so sweet….’

Wilford went utterly beet red at Dark’s words, stuttering with wide doe eyes as he squeaked before he could stop himself.

‘N-Nohohoho y-yohou cahan’t dohoho thahat!’

Dark raised an amused eyebrow at that, oh he’d so hoped his words would get a rise out of Wilford. He snickered smugly as he swirled a single fingertip in the bowel of one of Wilford’s hips, making the poor man whimper and buck as Dark crooned in a mock-curious tone.

‘Oh? Why ever not? I thought you’d prefer these gentler, less evil methods….’

Wilford gritted his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut….because for him, this tickly scenario was the most evil thing in the whole world. Something to know about Wilford is that the teasiest, gentlest tickles were the ones that got to him the most. They made him tingle endlessly and made his lee mood get bigger and bigger with every passing second, and as time went on….all Wilford started to want was for Dark to go faster. Wilford spluttered out of embarrassed, lee mood induced frustration.

‘Y-Yohohohou bahahastahard!’

Dark smirked and crooned with feigned innocence.

‘Oho I’m a bastard am I? Why is that?’

Wilford squeaked and twitched as Dark now slowly walked his fingers up Wilford’s sensitive body, before resting them in his armpits whilst Dark also rested his face on Wilford’s tummy. Dark felt even more satisfied now that he could feel Wilford’s shaky breaths and jumpy yips as he stammered.

‘Yohohohou knohow dahamn wehehell why!’

Wilford was crumbling from it all, and Dark was relishing in his lover’s demise.

‘You know, I’m not sure that I do….if there’s something else that you want, then you’ll have to ask me so I know what it is you’d like….’

Wilford’s eyes flew open….oh now that was just cruel. His whole body was shaking now as he lost the last of his composure, giggles overcoming him from the soft, blunt scrapes of nails in his armpits and stubble at his stomach.

‘Yohohohou ehehevil meheheanihie gohohoddammit Dahahark!’

Dark laughed gently into Wilford’s tummy as his fingertips carried on playing softly in his hollows, and he mused smugly to Wilford.

‘I’m still not hearing any requests for something different….’

Wilford was beyond flustered, which meant he had no filter left to stop him from crying out in flustered frustration.

‘Fuhuhuck gahahad p-p-plehehease bahahabe juhust gohoho fahahaster!’

Dark smiled, an utterly feral, gleeful smile, and gazed at Wilford adoringly.

‘Anything for you my love.’

Wilford then squealed and descended into laughter as Dark scratched relentlessly in his armpits, all the while he also nibbled the absolute hell out of the pudge of his lower belly. It was tickle torture at its finest and Wilford was relishing every damn second of it.

‘AAAHHHEHEHEE FUUHUHUCK AHAHAHA!!’

Dark hummed, warmth filling his chest at how Wilford thrashed and thrashed, but never once fought back; he lived for when he could make Wilford so happy like this.

‘Does it tickle good darling?’

Dark purred, and even amidst his shrieks of mirth Wilford managed to nod in response, crying out as he arched his back and clenched his fists.

‘YEHEHEHAHAHA!! TIHIHIHICKLES!!’

Dark genuinely thought his heart was going to melt, well, that’s what true love does to you. Dark gave his loving, kissy, nibbly attention to Wilford’s waistline now, but kept up the treatment at his armpits because he knew Wilford adored his underarms being tickled immensely. He murmured lovingly into Wilford’s skin.

‘It’s gorgeous how much you adore this….you’re so fucking cute, it drives me crazy…’

Wilford was a squealing, laughing, blushing mess of delight as tears built at the corners of his eyes; with Dark complimenting him too, that just drove him right over the edge of happy bliss.

‘IHIHIHI LOHOHOHOVE YOHOHOU!!!’

Wilford threw his head back amidst his proclamation, and Dark beamed as he replied.

‘I love you too, my darling Wilford.’

Dark grinned….then decided to really show his love. He unleashed a torrent of raspberries along Wilford’s tender waistline, whilst also vibrating his thumbs into his poor, sensitive hollows. Wilford absolutely howled with mirth as tears trickled down his cheeks, and he finally slammed his arms down.

‘AAHHHHH FAHAHAHAHACK NAHAHAHAHAAA!!!’

Dark smiled fondly, and then had mercy on his Wilford. He chuckled gently to himself as he got off of Wilford and lay back next to him in bed, and let out a happy hum when Wilford immediately came close so he could curl up at his chest. He was giggling, panting, grinning….and beautiful beyond sanity in Dark’s eyes.

‘Hoholy fuhuck….’

Dark smirked, and kissed Wilford’s jaw as he purred.

‘Had fun?’

Wilford gazed up at Dark, and grinned brightly as he let out a soft purr of his own.

'You’re so evil….I love you so much.’

Dark’s eyes gleamed with his own delight, before they shut along with Wilford’s as they kissed, utterly encased by mutual bliss and happiness beneath their blankets and encased by limbs. Maybe sometimes, just sometimes….to be truly evil, first you must be utterly good of heart.

WOOOOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOOO LUV YOUS XX

[capswritinq]

Morning- Bucky Barnes Fic Part 2

Summary: Bucky reminisces and mourns y/n. The events of Endgame transpire.

Genre: More angst than I intended but a happy ending!

Word Count: 2.5k

Note: Thanks for all the lovely feedback on part 1! Hearing people’s reactions to the things I create motivates me to keep making them. I was too lazy to rewatch Endgame so everything is based off of my memory, by the way. Also, do you guys like having music to go with some scenes or is it distracting? Please let me know your thoughts!

Y/n was a homebody. Of course she loved spending time with her friends and seeing new sights every once in a while, but ever since she met Bucky, the place where she enjoyed the most was home. When they bought their first house together, y/n had visions of what she wanted the place to be.

“We have to get cute chairs for the front porch. Imagine going out there in the morning and having a cup of coffee while getting to watch the sunrise, how nice is that?...Oh! And we have to make sure we have tons of paintings and pictures on the walls, I hate when people leave it bare. I was thinking for the kitchen...”

Bucky was only half listening to her ideas. He knew that whatever she did, he would love, because she was trying to make a house their home. He knew she would make sure that it was apparent that they lived there, as she was a very expressive person. He loved that about her, how her personality was so big she wore it on her sleeve.

Getting everything unpacked only took one week, as y/n spent all day and all night decorating and putting everything where it needed to go, with Bucky’s help of course.

The night y/n deemed they had their “finished project”, they took two wine glasses out to the front porch, along with the crosley Steve gifted Bucky for his past birthday. A record was softly playing.

Y/n and Bucky sat in their “cute” chairs, along with the music floating through the evening air.

“I think it’s funny how our appliances and security system is so hi-tech, yet we probably get the most use out of your record player and my old polaroid.” Y/n commented.

A small smirk was on Bucky’s face. “I guess I never thought about that, but you’re right.”

“You know, I’ve always been an old soul. I know it seems like everyone says that but it’s true for me. I grew up on this technology yet I’ve always relied on pen and paper. I matured so young. History was always my favorite class in school, too. The World Wars fascinated me. I would go home and read all about them, past the stuff they would assign. I always wondered what it was like to live during that time.” She looked Bucky in the eye.

Bucky thought for a moment. He didn’t think about his life before HYDRA all too often anymore. His mind was now occupied with thoughts about other things, or rather on a particular person.

“Well, the air was fresher. It was just as noisy though. People talked on the streets louder, and you could hear the car engines on the road more. People weren’t so afraid of each other either.”

Bucky looked down at his hands, his eyes flickering between his flesh and metal one.

“You would walk in a place and pretty much talk to anyone. If someone came battered and bruised at your door, you would let them in. People had lost so much after the Great War, that any ounce of kindness or normalcy was embraced.”

“I bet the parties were pretty lame, though.” Y/n said lightheartedly, looking up to Bucky to see his reaction.

“You kidding? Yeah, you couldn’t really hear the music all to well but the dancing was just as good, if not better. Drinks were cheaper, too.”

Y/n laughed at that. “Everything was cheaper, Buck.”

“Well no shit.” He chuckled.

“The music was great though, I’ll give you guys that.”

Bucky hummed in agreement.

The record player crackled as it moved to the next track. The clarinet of Benny Goodman filled their ears, and Peggy Lee’s soft voice glittered in the air.

Y/n stood up from her spot, and reached her hand out to Bucky. “Dance with me.”

He smiled up at her and grabbed her hand. She turned the dial up on the crosley, and wrapped her arms around his body. Her head rested in the crook of his neck. He held her hand and placed his other arm around her waist. They swayed to the tune.

The only sound he focused on was the music playing and her light breathing. The only thing he thought about was her. In that moment, he looked at her with stars in his eyes because she was his whole universe. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for this woman.

“I love you so much, Bucky.” She whispered delicately in his ear.

Bucky closed his eyes and inhaled a breath, taking in her lovely scent.

“I love you too, darling. So much.”

“Even when I’m a little wine drunk?” She said pulling back to look at his face, a crooked smile on hers.

He grinned at her. “Even more when you’re wine drunk. You’re more fun that way.” He said cheekily.

“Oh shut it, Barnes.”

He laughed and held her face in his hands, and gently moved forward to kiss her. She responded, wrapping her arms tighter around him, her finger tips softly tugging at the ends of the hair on the nape of his neck.

Bucky could honestly say that that was one of the happiest times of his life.

Now he was left destroyed, absolutely shattered, with the absense of her. He knew his happiness rested in her, no matter how unhealthy it might seem. Half of him went away the day she vanished.

5 years without her. 5 years of misery. He felt like he just watched every day go by, not really there.

His life lacked color without her in it. Bucky thought that after 5 years maybe, just maybe, things would eventually lessen but the pain still ached in his chest. He yearned for her. It didn’t help living in the place where she last was, everything reminding him of her.

He kept her small pile of dirty clothes laying on the floor in their bedroom. He left her art studio untouched, not baring to open the door again. Even a mug that had her chapstick stain on it remained on her bedside table.

The little fragments of her pained him to look at, but at the same time it kept y/n’s memory alive. But Bucky couldn’t ever possibly forget her.

His day started just the same as every day before that, after the infamous snap. He woke up later than he used to, showered a bit less, and moved around hardly. Some days were better than others, though. Bucky counted days where he could drag himself to the grocery store a win.

The time on his phone read 10:35. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, knowing Steve was going to be disappointed in being late yet again for a meeting. He already had 3 missed texts and 2 calls from him.

Hey, where are you?

Answer your phone.

Damnit Bucky. I thought things were getting better.

Bucky huffed at reading the last one. As if he could ever get better. As if his soul, body, and heart didn’t long for her to still be with him.

He texted back a “Sorry, leaving now” before quickly putting on some clothes that didn’t smell like rubbish before hastily leaving the house.

————

Bucky sat across from Steve in the cafe booth, staring at him with pained eyes. He didn’t breathe. He looked down after a moment, trying to process what Steve just revealed to him.

“Every night since the snap I’ve gone to bed wishing I could have done something. That I could do something to reverse it all. I’ve held onto this hope. But as the days turned into years I’ve had to face the reality that she-“ Bucky paused. “She’s not coming back. None of them are. And you just spring this onto me. I don’t know if I can allow myself to build up that hope again just to have it all crash down on me. I couldn’t endure that.” He shook his head, meeting Steve’s blue irises.

“Of course there is no guarantee that this will work. But you owe it to her to try. We owe it to all of them. If there is any chance, any slim chance this could work, why not take it?”

Bucky let his words hang in the air. He really thought about it. Of course he would do anything for her, anything. But the feeling he felt when he found her ashes, realizing that this was all real and that she was gone, tore him apart. Having to rexperience that would be torture. Not even HYDRA could have done damage to him like that. But Steve was right.

He owed it to her, his light. He was so tired of living in the darkness. He would do anything for her.

“Okay. When do we leave?”

———

Banner had done it. When the plant outside the compound window reappeared, and the birds started singing louder, Bucky could feel his chest rise with hope and relief. When Clint received a call from his wife, Bucky cried.

She was back. He couldn’t see her but Bucky could feel the heart strings reattaching and the aching dulled. His world was colorful again.

The blissful moment was short lived when the building started to crumble and they realized they were under attack from Thanos.

The nerve of that fucking guy.

Bucky came out of the rubble seemingly unharmed, running to Steve. The fight had began.

Bucky just wanted to run home to her. He knew she would probably be so confused, stepping out of her studio and seeing the state of the house. It was a wreck. Bucky just couldn’t take care of it or himself anymore.

But he knew this would end in a fight. Thanos needed to be ended.

So he fought. Sending bullets into the skulls of the extra terrestrial beings and punching any creature that got in his way, he kept the image of y/n in mind. The knowledge of her being alive and him not getting to see or hold her killed him, but he was determined as ever to beat the fuck out of Thanos and his army.

In the moment he sent a bullet through another creature’s skull, the being wisped away into ashes instead of falling back on the soil. Bucky looked around, confused, until he saw Stark in the distance wielding the gauntlet. 

His eyes widened as he witnessed the thousands of aliens, Thanos included, being vanished into the air. He cringed at the sight of Peter and Pepper hunched in anguish over Tony’s body.

Steve approached Bucky from behind, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. 

“You alright?” Steve asked, tears in his eyes. It had been one hell of a day.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I can’t believe Stark did it.”

Steve looked down, not wanting to Bucky to see the tear that escaped. He stood there for a few seconds, letting everything settle over him.

“You should go home. You should be able to find a car by the compound, or whatever is left of it.”

Bucky looked at him.

“What about you?”

“I’m going to catch up with Sam. Don’t worry about me. Go see her.”

Bucky instantly grinned at the mention of y/n. He hugged Steve.

“Give my regards to Sam.” He stated.

“Same to y/n.” Steve smiled.

Bucky gave Steve one last look before jogging towards the compound, his feet picking up momentum the more he thought about y/n. 

He was going home, at last.

------

She was sitting on the porch chairs, a distant look in her eyes. She was holding onto a wine glass.

Her eyes widened when the car approached the driveway.

Bucky didn’t even turn it off before he got out, running to her. She gasped.

“Buck-”

“Y/n!” He swiftly pulled her into him, crushing their bodies together. He inhaled her beautiful scent. He cried.

They held each other for a while, the only thing to be heard was the muffled sounds of their breaths and clogged noses, the happiest of tears shedding.

He kissed her temple, his lips lingering. He looked down into her eyes, hers showing both love and relief.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. You have no idea how happy I am to see you. God, it was hell without you.”

Her face contorted in concern. “I can’t imagine what it was like, Buck. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say anything, but pulled her into his embrace again, cradling her head in his arms. He kissed her hair.

That night, they laid in their bed, it now feeling warm and comfortable  and right. He held her in his arms, so tight and close. She nestled into him, her body fitting his like a puzzle piece. Neither of them were sleeping, but neither spoke a word. He could explain everything to her later. She could tell Bucky just needed a break from talking or thinking, all he needed was to just hold her. To know that she was really there with him.

After a few moments, Bucky turned his body to face hers, moving his arm that was underneath her to his side, his other wrapped around her torso. He gazed at her.

“Will you marry me?” He whispered, voice husk, sincere.

She stared at him, and tried to stifle a laugh, but a chuckle escaped her. Bucky’s face held a bit of amusement, at the joy of getting to hear the beautiful sound, but also confusion at her reaction.

“What?” he asked.

She met his eyes. “You know I’m not one for grand romantic gestures or cheesiness, but I’m just imagining how Winifred would have reacted to you asking me that like that.” Her smiled reached the corner of her eyes, a small laugh following.

Bucky looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head and grinning. “She’s rolling in her grave right now, yelling at me about being a gentleman and my rudeness.” 

Y/n giggled, reaching out to rub Bucky’s arm.

“Oh, totally.”

After their laughs cooled down, Y/n stared at Bucky fondly and determined.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Bucky.” She pressed a kiss to his hand that rested on her shoulder.

It was crazy how much a difference a day made. Yesterday, Bucky didn’t have purpose to his life. Without y/n by his side, he didn’t see the point in continuing on. But now, having y/n in the home they shared, their bed they occupied, wrapped up in her, he wished to have all the time in the world to be alive and share it with her. Before, the only solace he gained was in sweet dreams of her, because it was the only time he felt her presence when she was no longer around. Now, Bucky didn’t want to fall asleep, he wanted to stay awake forever and spend every waking moment with her.

He fell asleep that night holding her, hearing her soft snores. In the morning when he woke up around 6, he stared at her lovely face, undisturbed by the peacefulness of sleep. He could hear the sound of four birds chirping furiously. For once, the sound filled him with an overwhelming amount of joy. 

He was whole again.

[killingmebtob]

Unspoken Words // Lee Minhyuk

Author: @killingmebtob // Chi

Title: Unspoken words

Characters: Minhyuk and Reader

Author’s Note: This so short. Just trying to make short ones again.

Summary: Minhyuk receives a call.

---

Minhyuk hurriedly went out of the studio as soon as the recording finished. His manager was still in the middle of telling him his next schedules when he grabbed his jacket and cap to head out of the building.

It was already late into the night but luckily he was still able to get a ride.

Inside the cab, he glanced at his phone a couple of times. He wasn't particularly looking at anything, but he was recalling the phone call he received before he started recording.

He felt his heart drop when he saw the familiar number on his screen. It was her. He answered it with hesitation, not knowing what the purpose of the call was. But what he heard wasn't what he expected.

Sure enough he heard her voice but there were too much noise and many other voices. He heard her laugh drunkenly, slurring her words when she spoke not to him, but to someone else.

The phone call ended as sudden as it started.

Minhyuk got worried and he thought he should find her.

There weren't that many bars in the area so he visited them one by one.

He found her in the fifth bar that he went into.

He knew it was her even with the dim light. He could recognize her even when she was in the middle of the crowd wearing a tight skirt and a halter top. It wasn't something that she usually wore.

She danced in the middle with a bottle of beer in her hand, obviously drunk. He knew she wasn't used to drinking and partying. Hell, she rarely goes out and socialize. His heart broke when he saw his ex girlfriend in that state.

What happened?

It's been months since they broke up. Since then, they haven't spoken to each other so it was a surprise when he got the call.

Three guys made their way to her slowly. Dancing while getting close to where she was.

Minhyuk eyed them and he knew they weren't up to any good. Before he reached her, he saw one of them place his hand on her waist.

His senses turned up so high that he crossed the distance to them in a second. He grabbed the man's hands away from her.

"Stay away from her." Minhyuk said. His jaw clenched in anger.

"Minhyuk?" He heard her say upon recognizing him. She tried to focus her eyes to see if she was right. "What are you doing here?"

"Ok, man." The guy said backing away. "I didn't know she was with someone." He tapped his other friends and left the two alone.

As soon as they were out of sight, Minhyuk looked at the woman in front of her. She was still looking at him, blinking as if trying to sober up.

"You," he said, grabbing her arm. "Come with me." He pulled her and headed for the exit. He held her firmly as he gritted his teeth in anger.

She tried to struggle but she was too drunk to even put up a fight.

He didn't stop walking, not until they reached a quiet alley, away from the noise.

"Let go of me!" She said pulling her hand with all her strength. "You're hurting me!"

Minhyuk, realized he was holding her wrist too tightly. He immediately let go and he saw the red marks he caused.

"What the fuck were you doing?!" He shouted at her.

She was taken aback but there was pure anger in her that fired her up. "I was having fun but you went and ruined it!"

"Having fun?" He laughed sarcastically. "You sure were having fun with those men."

"I don't know them. I didn't even know they were there." She felt like a fool trying to explain herself. "Why do you care? That's none of your business anymore!" She spat back.

Minhyuk felt his blood boil. She's right. He lost the right to care for her when he ended their relationship. He hated himself for it. He wanted to let out all the rage inside him. "Yes, you're right. I shouldn't care anymore. I shouldn't care even if you go around dancing with a guy. No, wait. One guy isn't enough for you anymore, right? You wanted more. There were three guys there. Do you do anything more than dancing?" He glanced at the bottle of beer she was still holding. "What, you go around and get drunk evey night now? Different men every night? I bet you sleep with them too. Have you sun that low? Are you a whore? Is that what you--"

Minhyuk felt a ringing inside his head the moment her hand slapped his face. The impact was too huge that it broke the side of his lip.

It woke him up. Especially when he saw her, clenching her jaw, face red in anger as tears streamed down.

That was the moment that he wished he could take back everything that he said.

"You shut your dirty mouth." She hissed. Hurt is an understatement for what she felt when she heard those words from him. "You do not have any rights to say those to me." She clenched her fist until her knuckles turned white. She held her gaze at him. "None of those were true. And even if it is, what is it to you if I sleep around? What is it to you if I drink every night until I pass out naked and wake up with different men every day? What is it to you if I let strangers kiss me without knowing their name? If I really do that, it will be my choice! Maybe if I do that I could forget." Her voice quivered. "I could forget about you. Maybe in kissing them I could forget about your kisses. Maybe I could forget everything that has happened between us. Maybe in forgetting you I could start remembering how to be myself again. I gave everything I had to you and I got to start all over again. You threw me away, Minhyuk! Like a piece of garbage!"

Minhyuk felt his whole world crumble when he saw the woman he love break down in front of him. He didn't know what to do nor what to say.

He broke her beyond repair. What she didn't know was he too was lost without her. He didn't want to end things with her. He still loves her.

But there wasn't anything that he could do.

With a heavy heart he listened to her cry in the silence of the alley.

The moon was the only witness to the things that were said and the things that was opted not to be said.

[blossom-hwa]

Run |1| - YUTA

Well, I’m curious as to how this is going to turn out. Hopefully I can keep going with it. This chapter at least was based on another @sparkingstoryinspiration prompt: a clock, a painting, a smashed window.

Pairing: Yuta x fem!reader

Genre: action, angst, gang!au

Triggers: violence, somewhat graphic?

Word Count: 1.9k

Your gang is dead and only one person knows you’re alive. Since you know nothing but the gang world, you turn to working for those who killed your family. It doesn’t really bother you, but your identity gets found out by the wrong people on one of your... excursions.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

NCT Masterlist

The clock in the living room strikes twelve.

You step silently into the mansion, running through the simple plan in your head.

Find the painting. Take it down. Get out.

Simple.

A paid thief, you are an expert robber, stealing things for anyone else that has the money to pay. You offer your services only once to each customer, and after that, you cut off all contact.

It’s a safety precaution.

You work with one person only, the handsome assassin Lee Taeyong. As childhood friends, you do favors for each other every so often. He kills off witnesses if things get too messy.

In this case, some wealthy gang leader wants a painting that the Nakamoto syndicate owns. For what reason, you don’t know, but you need the money so it’s not your place to ask questions.

The Nakamoto mansion is still quiet, thankfully. If anyone hears you walking around the house, they don’t pop out. Still, you take precaution, lifting your black scarf to cover your face.

You know the painting is on the top floor of the mansion, locked in a room set with multiple alarms. Getting caught will most likely end with your death, and that is not an option.

Luckily, you know your way around, thanks to having worked as a maid in the mansion for two months.

From what you’ve gathered, the Nakamotos are not a close family. There is the leader of the syndicate, his wife, and then three children. The eldest is a daughter who from what you know has left the syndicate and has cut all ties with her family. You do not know who or where she is, and frankly, you couldn’t care less.

The youngest was another daughter, shunted aside by her family as the weakling, the runt of the litter. She committed suicide a month and a half ago, about half a month after you started working there. Shame. She seemed a nice girl.

The middle child is the heir to the syndicate, Nakamoto Yuta. He is ruthless and cruel in the gang world, going after anyone who so much as looks at him the wrong way.

Terrifying.

You have seen Nakamoto Yuta exactly two times in your life. You were children the first time, but the memory never leaves you.

Your parents were prominent members of a gang. Thus, they had plenty of connections. The Nakamotos were no exception. Yuta and his parents were over one day for reasons you can’t remember, and somehow, you and Yuta had gotten into a fight. You were six then, and he was eight. He’d punched you in the face, and you’d roundhouse kicked him in the head.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t the pain you remembered. It was the mischievous, kind of teasing look in his eye. He was still a child then.

You hadn’t seen him at all in the years past, not even when your gang crumbled to ashes and you were one of the very few survivors and the Nakamotos promised to help.

Fun fact: the Nakamotos never sent help. Nor did the other gangs your family tried to contact.

The second time you saw him was when you began your job here. With your face covered in heavy makeup and a bandana over your cropped hair, it was no wonder he didn’t recognize you. But you recognized him, despite the new muscles and the handsome features.

The cold, calculating look in his eyes was haunting. So much had changed in the years after the death of your gang.

You realize you are gripping your tools tightly, and you loosen your grasp, again focusing on the task at hand.

The painting.

You stop at the fake bookshelf that hides the room containing the painting. Scrutinizing the wood, you press the button that will open the door. A keypad greets you, as well as multiple locks.

After scanning the hall behind you, you set to work. Your fingers move deftly, tools flashing, as you quickly pick each lock and then enter the code you managed to hack.

Two seconds of tense waiting follow, and then the door slides open without a sound.

Sighing in relief, you close the door behind you, locking the doors and setting the alarm again before glancing around for the painting.

It truly is gorgeous, but you also don’t have the faintest clue why a gang member would want it. This isn’t the 39 clues, after all. Maybe it means something to the Nakamotos. You wouldn’t know, and you wouldn’t ask.

The painting is not very large or heavy, but it is a hassle to take down, especially in the dark. Still, you manage, taking it down just as the ostentatious clock on the first floor strikes one.

The painting goes into the bag you’ve brought. Your tools disappear into various pockets, and your trusty knife comes out. Just in case.

The rest of the plan is easy. Take the painting, get out the way you came in, walk away in the darkness.  

Or at least, it should’ve been easy.

You turn around, only to hear the faint click of a lock being opened.

Frozen, you look around the room rapidly, trying to find someplace to hide. There is nowhere, and you curse internally.

Your best bet is to surprise whoever it is right as he comes in, you decide. You trade your knife for a small handgun, positioning yourself near the door.

It slides open as though in slow motion, and you register wide eyes, a shock of messy hair, and a finely chiseled facial structure before you fire at his legs.

Yuta has unbelievable reflexes, because he twists away just in time so that the bullet only just grazes his leg, leaving a trickle of blood dripping down his ankle.

Fuck. There is nowhere to go, and you begin to back away into the corner farthest away from the man, making sure your face is completely covered save for your eyes.

He grins, leaning against the doorway. “Well, well. What do we have here?” He kicks away pieces of the floor flippantly, walking closer. His wound does not seem to bother him at all.

You don’t answer.

“Silence, then? Fine. What are you doing in here?” Yuta smirks, pushing himself off the doorway almost languidly. The way he moves is almost like that of a snake. Slithery, sly.

Always one step ahead.

His eyes flicker to the empty space where the painting used to be. His mouth forms a small ��o’ in comprehension. “Ah, yes. The painting. Who asked you for it? How much did they offer?”

Still no answer on your part. You survey the room as surreptitiously as you can, desperate for a way to get out. At this point, even a window would be preferable.

A window.

There is a small window near where the painting used to be. If your hips were any wider, you wouldn’t try it, but your skinny stature makes you think it might work. You continue to roam your eyes around the room, not giving anything away.

Yuta chuckles softly. The sound is so dangerous, yet so enticing. You feel almost drawn to him, and you pinch your thigh hard to snap out of it.

“There’s no escape,” he says softly. “I’ll alert my parents, who will come in and take you, dead or alive. If you come peacefully, though, we might be able to work something out.”

A part of you wants to believe him, that this handsome man won’t harm you. But that part is overshadowed by the knowledge that this is the son of a notoriously cold-hearted gang leader that has killed hundreds, directly and indirectly.

The scarf shifts down slightly, and you shove it back up before it reveals anything. Yuta obviously notices this. “What’s that you want to hide?” he asks, looking somewhat curious.

He can’t know I’m alive.

As far as the gang world knows, your gang is dead. Everyone was wiped out, including the stragglers. For all you know, you and Taeyong might be the only ones alive. All the gangs know Taeyong is out there, but not you.

Yuta’s eyes narrow, and he steps forward, a little more urgency in his step. “What are you hiding?” he asks again, impatience in his tone.

Now might be a good time to get the fuck out.

You raise your gun and fire.

Not at Yuta, though. The window.

The glass- or what seems like glass- shakes a little, but it doesn’t break. You curse quietly.

Yuta, who seems to have thought you would be aiming for him, is now on the other side of the room. How he got there so fast, you don’t know. Once he realizes you didn’t shoot at him, he laughs loudly.

“Really? You thought the window would work?” he says in between gasps, leaning against a large bookshelf. You raise your gun at him this time, and he straightens, looking more amused than ever.

Your mind races. That window was your only option, and the door is closed.

You decide to try the window again.

Only this time, Yuta decides to attack. A knife hurtles towards you, but your reflexes kick in and you manage to duck out of the way. It thunks into the wood above your head and you tremble, realizing how closely you just brushed death.

“Quick, are we?” Another knife is pulled out of seemingly nowhere, the metal glinting in his hand.

Panicking, you pull out your own knife and send it flying deep into his thigh. He lurches, then stands upright again, a hand on his wound. “Wasn’t expecting that. Alright-”

You shoot five successive bullets into the window, each one shaking the glass until it finally cracks. Yuta yells, probably alerting everyone else in the house. Three more bullets widen the crack. Then you press the trigger and nothing comes out.

Fuck!

Too late, you notice that the scarf has dropped down your face so that most of it is visible. Unable to do anything about it, you tear across the room, throwing random things at Yuta to keep him busy, though the revelation of your face seems to have him shocked enough already.

You grab the knife Yuta threw into the wall on your dash to the window and slam it into the crack, trying to wedge it through further. More cracks spread, but too slowly.

“You’re alive?”

No point in hiding it, you think, but you still don’t say anything. Yuta laughs, a derisive and disbelieving sound you can hear even above the din sounding outside the hidden room. “You survived that inferno?”

Right. When you mentioned that most of the gang crumbled to ashes, you meant it literally.

“Obviously, Nakamoto,” you spit, still hacking at the window. The cracks spread slowly but surely. Just keep him busy. “I’m surprised you even know who I am.”

The noise outside gets louder, and you think you hear the click of a lock.

Hurry!

The door of the room slides open, and multiple people come tumbling in, weapons in hand.

“Oh, fuck it,” you mutter.

Guns go off. A bullet slams into your calf, then your shoulder. You yelp in pain, still hacking at the window with your knife.

In a last fit of desperation, you slam the window with your elbow, the part of your body that your mother once told you was the strongest. It finally shatters, and you jump out, your arm and leg screaming.

“Y/N!” you hear Yuta shout.

How does he know my name?

You land on a pile of compost and dirt, groaning. The scarf is gone, your knife and gun still in the house, but you haul yourself up and run.

[surrealitykrp-blog]

hello listeners —

today we’ve received a notice about moon jaeho, the 25 year old intern. you might have seen him around downtown when he’s not being the intern for the mayor’s office. if you haven’t, fear not and stay tuned for the briefing.

                                         and as always, welcome to iri

—  and now, the profile

faceclaim: seo kangjoon oc name: moon jaeho age: 25 positive traits: kind, friendly, loving neutral traits: flirty, ambitious, diplomatic negative traits: hypocritical, hot-tempered, two-faced occupation: law graduate, intern at the mayor’s office housing: downtown affiliation: intern for the mayor’s office

— and now, the development

THE MYSTERY OF IRI:

“i think he was…,” the boy stops, looking at the sky as if lost in thought. jaeho takes his eyes away from his book to stare at him, a disdainful look on his face, “probably some sort of communist fighter.”

jaeho can’t help but laugh. “that makes perfect sense.”

“maybe a wizard?”

“now you’re just being ridiculous.”

his friend stares at him before looking back at the sign. jaeho is tired of that talk if he can be completely honest, he’s been hearing it for years now. many of his classmates had been obsessed with the mystery of lee ilsook and who he was. at first he had humored them and even took part in all the bets and games that went around campus. the possibilities of who lee ilsook could’ve been and what had he done that wouldn’t be forgotten and yet it was were endless. his classmates would always forget though, the mystery being a part of their daily lives as much as anything else that happened in this stupid city with its crazy streets and odd happenings. people get used to it as it is just as part of iri as anything else, but not everyone likes it. jaeho hardly likes it.

he has very little patience to iri and all its problems. and by problems he means the happening, mysteries, fucked up shit that do him no harm and yet make his skin crawl in annoyance. and the fact that this city simply won’t let him leave, that every time he tried to leave the longest he stayed out the worst he got, the madder, the angrier, the longing to its streets and stars. jaeho is a man of law and logic, and iri doesn’t obey any of them. it irks him.

“i can’t believe it, man,” his friend continues, taking him out of his thoughts, “I can’t believe we’re leaving next year without knowing what the fuck did he do..”

jaeho smiles, shrugs. “you know how it is,” he says, and then smirks, “and if no one remembers, maybe it isn’t worth it..”

THE DUALITY OF MANKIND:

ambition was never a bad thing to him. jaeho always saw the fact that he had wanted more to himself than the veiled walls his parents had set for him for just being born with the name he was born with. ambition brought him good grades, good friends, connections he’d have never survived without. ambition brought him the will to defy his parents, to major in what he wanted to major in, to be one of the top of his class, to aspire to win every case that was sent his way wherever he interned. ambition made him fly, and jaeho never saw it as a bad thing. even when he lied and conspired to get what he wanted, his reputation still pristine after he was done. even when he saw the people he needed to take down as mere obstacle, their humanity completely washed away from his eyes. even when corruption showed itself to him with its dark wings and he accepted it, closed his eyes to it, told himself this is how the world is. jaeho ignored the terrible path ambition lead him, never once seeing it as a bad sad of himself.

maybe one time, just this one time. this one time his best friend had looked at him, eyes dark as he shook his head, telling him sometimes he didn’t recognize him anymore. or maybe even this one time he lost control, told his father what he thought of him and his business, what he thought of how mediocre he was and how he could thrive far and far above. maybe then jaeho had sat down right after, apologized, asked for forgiveness. maybe then he thought he was going too far, but now it’s too late to go back.

— and now, the biography

i. born in and raised in iri (just like everyone else he knows), moon jaeho was born in the thirteenth day of april,

ii. the oldest of two, jaeho grew up a responsible boy. did well in school (not well enough to be better than some), well in sports (well enough to be better than most) and well with people. he was popular, had many friends, shining bright  in the middle of the softball field, with a bright smile and shining eyes.

iii. good thing most people wouldn’t know what he was thinking.

iv. it’s not that he is two faced (he is), it’s just that there’s a side of him that jaeho knows better than to show. he wasn’t that young but also not that old when his temper started to show. it was a paradox - who’d think such a kind, beautiful, bright boy could suddenly go berserk, bloodshot eyes and curled fists. it didn’t make sense and yet it did, perfectly. when you hold so much inside it has to get out somewhere, in some way. jaeho let it out by hurting others.

v. his one impulse control was the one person he loved the most. moon kiryung was jaeho’s cousin, bestfriend and soulmate. they grew up together, went to the army together, did everything together.

vi. until kiryung died.

vii. he was in jeju, some stupid trip with some stupid college friends. everything after his mother’s phone call is still a blur - all jaeho remembers is arriving for a funeral and finding his best friend inside a casket.

viii. and now he had no one else who could keep him sane.

ix. not that anyone knows, not that anyone notices. on the funeral jaeho is the portrait of a good son. he cries quietly, fingers pressing on the bridge of his nose, arms lacing his aunt’s shoulder as the both of them cried. no one notices he is crumbling on the inside, whatever monster that kiryung kept sane breaking free from its ropes.

x. and does jaeho himself even know? does he know there’s a part of him, this horrible, monstrous part of him that is happy, rejoiced? that watches as his best friend, as his most beloved person in this entire world is forgotten as days go by and his light gets brighter? that now that the sun is set someone such as him, with such a faint light now has room to shine? does he know?

xi. the answer is no.

xii. he ignores it, goes on, fueled with hate and anger that he keeps inside as it kills him like poison.

xiii. in a not so surprise turn of events: jaeho welcomes the pain.

xiv. most people people in the city look at him and see a good man - a law student, someone who went another path than his family business (out of spite, out of feeling like he is much more than any of them could ever achieve). when he gets the spot as a law intern in the mayor’s office no one is surprised. because jaeho is the kind of guy who does this kind of things. the kind of guy who gets good jobs, and lives downtown. the kind of guy who says his good mornings and smiles pleasantly.

xv. and now that kiryung is dead very few people know who jaeho really is, except for his younger cousin and his long time girlfriend.

xvi. a horrible woman, really.

xvii. they’ve been dating since high school, a long time relationship and as much as anything else in jaeho’s life, a lie. a façade. to the outside world they are a golden couple, beautiful, and young, and on the path of success. but the truth is far from that.

xviii. because the truth is: jaeho isn’t a good person. and the fact that he wholeheartedly believes he is good makes him even worse.