#i like the characters and i like how even insignificant looking things ended up

[imsobadatnicknames2]

I mean... while I don't think you're wrong about how the goal of mechanics like reaction rolls or morale rolls probably is more "let's introduce more randomness" than "let's treat our enemies as living creatures rather than punching bags for the PCs to kill", but I think saying that the difference in the playstyles encouraged by the mechanical design of old-school D&D vs modern D&D is a matter of simply how structured the game is ends up being extremely dismissive of the ways in which the design of old-school D&D does organically disincentivize combat as the default encounter disposition on the player side (regardless of if that was the design goal or not) by making combat an extremely suboptimal default way to respond to encounters.

As you say, the flavor text of various monsters in modern D&D is a clear indication that combat should not be the default assumption, unless the players choose to ignore it. But the thing is. In modern D&D you *can afford* to ignore it in a way that you really can't in earlier editions of the game.

I'm gonna be using the 1981 edition of Basic D&D (a.k.a. B/X edition) as my example here because it's the edition I'm most familiar with, but pretty much all of this is applicable to all TSR editions of the game (except maybe 2e)

In all editions of D&D, HP is a resource, and turning an encounter into a fight is synonymous with consuming it. However, in editions like B/X, this resource is scarce and hard to recover. At early levels, even the beefiest classes in the game are never more than one or two solid hits away from 0 HP (my last B/X character was a fighter who started with 4 max HP at level 1. FOUR.), and once you reach 0 you're DEAD dead, no negative HP like in 3.x or death saves like in 5e. Magical healing is scarce (clerics can't even cast ANY spells until level 2. At which point they gain the ability to cast ONE spell per day), and without magical healing you naturally heal at a rate of 1hp PER DAY of rest.

By contrast, in something like 5e (or, to a lesser degree, even 3.x), where your characters have larger HP pools, there are several guardrails to prevent you from dying once you reach 0hp, your cleric is a much more plentiful source of magical healing, and even without access to magical healing you can use short rests to recover a substantial chunk of hp after a fight, HP is a resource that is much easier to justify spending. It's plentiful, easy to recover, and even running out of it is less of a big deal.

My point here being that, when you're playing an edition of the game where every time a fight happens there is a not insignificant chance that someone might end up dead within the first round of combat (and even if everyone does survive, the fight will likely leave the party in a state that might take several in-game days to fully recover from), you kinda can't afford to ignore any opportunity to NOT turn an encounter into a fight.

Like sure, in an edition like 3.x talking down the goblins instead of fighting by opening trade negotiations is a cool thing that MIGHT happen if the DM crafted the encounter that way and the players are so inclined. But in B/X talking down the goblins instead of fighting by opening trade negotiations is something you want to be doing as often as possible unless you want a TPK every couple sessions.

Like... I think there's something to be argued about how much these games are ACTUALLY played that way, but if we're looking purely at the gameplay style incentivized by the game design itself, I think it's plainly wrong to say that there's not a palpable difference in the degree to which combat is mechanically incentivized in post-3e D&D vs older editions.

So there is a pretty clear shift in playstyle between TSR D&D and WotC D&D: for better and for worse, D&D 3e introduced the idea of encounter balance, de-emphasized mechanics that had previously encouraged the GM to think of the monsters as real living creatures (reaction rolls, morale, etc.), and it had the effect of making D&D a much more combat-focused game. D&D has always been a game that's opinionated about combat, it's basically the most expressive and detailed form of play regardless of edition, but combat in the TSR editions was not exactly zoomed in and tactical. The WotC editions purposefully made combat zoomed in, granular, and tactical.

And this has had an effect on playstyle: since combat is now the main form of player expression what players actually want is for their characters to get into combat. Because combat is the most fun part of the game. But the game has also changed from the largely amoral dungeon-crawling game into a game of fantasy heroics (even though a lot of the trappings of the amoral dungeon-crawling still remain, which contributes to the dissonance), so you can't just have the player characters going into combat for the sake of it. That would frame the player characters as kind of Fucked Up, and we can't have that in our supposedly heroic fantasy.

What you end up with is a variety of contrivances like "they're bandits," "they're cultists," or, my all-time favorite, "they attacked first" to make the action seem morally justifiable, even though gameplay is still motivated by a desire to fight. The monsters fight to the death and, importantly, can often not be reasoned and negotiated with, partly because combat is supposed to be the fun, engaging part everyone is here to do, but also because if they actually acted like reasonable people it could cause dissonance with the whole "the player characters are the goodest heroes."

As my friend @tenleaguesbeneath once called it: what is actually going on is that the player characters are hunting people and monsters who have been programmed to fight to the death and never negotiate for sport, while justifying it as self-defence.

It's a simple power fantasy, and I don't think there's anything wrong with it. Sometimes you want to play a morally uncomplicated game about killing guys with cool magic swords. But I think it's also fun to think about what the specific types of monsters players end up fighting reveals about Society the invisible, unexamined ideology lying under the surface that the designers of even modern D&D have failed to examine. And to me it often reads like a frontier justice fantasy. None of that is to detract from anyone's joy of the game, and for me it's just fun to think about and post about this stuff while Still Enjoying the Game, but if someone expressing that opinion makes you feel uncomfortable, why? That's pretty silly imo.

[buddiebeginz]

Reminder that this is how bummys talk about Oliver and worse. Let's not forget some of them also made a 4hr podcast months ago saying awful stuff about him, all because he was posting about hanging out with Ryan and not Lou. They've also been repeatedly calling him biphobic/homophobic because he said Buck should get to explore his sexuality more and have sex.

Some of these people used to be Buddie shippers but the truth is they never really cared about Oliver or Buck. They have the nerve to call us fetishists when a lot of us have been shipping two best friends for years who we just want to see take their relationship to the next level. The main draw for them with b/t is wanting to see two guys they think are hot together because it certainly wasn't about Buck and his happiness. They weren't ever looking at his scenes with Tommy thinking is this really the best relationship for Buck? They've always been more concerned with Tommy and wanting him to be a permanent fixture on the show. Almost immediately after 704 some of them were calling him Buck's endgame. Even though we were shown time and time again how much Tommy was never the right person for Buck.

Now that their ship is over they've inevitably turned on Oliver and are blaming him for it even though at the end of the day the person who made that decision was Tim.

Also and this is something I really really wish bummy stans would get through their heads, actors are allowed to have personal opinions about the media they act in. Oliver has said he's a fan of 911 so I'm sure he watches the show. It's clear from many things he's said that he genuinely cares about Buck every bit as much as we do. So acting like he's not allowed to have preferences for the show and for Buck just makes no sense. He's connected to Buck in a way none of us are so if anyone should get to have thoughts on Buck's story it should be him. He's allowed to like or dislike a ship or a storyline. I know it sucks if an actor that's part of a ship you like doesn't support that ship but it does happen.

Oliver has supported Buddie for years and been very transparent that he wants to see it happen. He was never going to become the captain of the b/t ship. He's never really been super supportive of any of Buck's other ships nor does he have to be. Oliver has always been respectful towards his co-stars and fans and always given respectful answers about Buck's past ships in interviews and that's all he's really required to do.

It's honestly baffling how bummy stans continue to play the victim and continue to try and come up with all these reasons for why they think Oliver is a bad person for not supporting their ship and Lou. The reality is b/t was never meant to last. Oliver knew this and didn't want to lead anyone on. It's also very likely that Lou didn't get along with the cast especially given how they went out of their way to say goodbye to Callum and there was nothing for Lou. Not to mention Oliver very deliberately leaving Lou out of his photography spoke volumes.

I also think Oliver saw at least some of the drama online this year both from b/t stans and from Lou and it made him less likely to engage with that part of fandom. Bummy fans spent a not insignificant amount of time this year saying terrible sometimes racist things about Ryan and Eddie (like telling Ryan he should have finished the job when he talked about his s*icide attempt). Ryan is clearly someone that Oliver cares a lot about so if he saw any of this I'm sure it didn't endear him to those fans. On top of that they continually pushed for a guest character, who was never meant to be anything more than a plot device in Buck's story to be a main character and have his own Begins episode.

I'm just really sad and angry that this is the kind of stuff Oliver is having to deal with. Buck's bisexual journey should be this amazing positive thing and bummy stans have repeatedly tried to warp it to be their way or no way. I just really hope that Oliver knows there are so so many of us who love him and appreciate all the work he's done.

[shantechni]

Natsume's Fear of Thunder

I'm gonna be honest, this can hardly be considered an analysis. It's more of a "sporadic and unnecessarily deep observation" of how Natsume's astraphobia has been presented in the series over the years, both in the anime and in the manga. So, please for the love of God take all of this with a grain of salt.

Yes, I'm using the term "phobia" very loosely, but I'm not about to get into that rn. Natsume has an irrational fear and strong dislike of thunder, that's an undeniable truth.

Before I dive in, I'd like to briefly explain why, of all the little bits of information Midorikawa has given us about Natsume, this one is the one to ceaselessly bump around in my brain like a DVD logo. This series is not in the horror genre (it's serialized in LaLa DX after all), but it does get suspenseful, and pretty disturbing depending on whatever topic it touches or the types of situations the characters may find themselves in. I don't fault anyone, particularly Natsume, for growing up with valid fears and preconceived misconceptions about most youkai; they can sound scary, they can look scary, and they can do some scary stuff if they really feel up to it.

That's why I'm so fascinated to see Natsume develop and still harbor an irrational fear for something like the everyday phenomena of storms. He's landed himself in all sorts of trouble and has come face to face with many beings, both natural and supernatural, who didn't have his best interests in mind, and yet the clap of thunder somehow keeps its spot on the list of things that has him scared stiff.

Aight, spoilers for both the anime and the manga beyond here, you've been warned👏🏽

Our first introduction to Natsume's fear is near the beginning of chapter 42, when he and Tanuma accidentally stumble across Taki's home while seeking shelter from a sudden shower. He questions how Nyanko-sensei ended up at her home as well and the youkai, much to Natsume's visible dismay, cheekily explains:

That doesn't end up happening since the rain remained light until its swift end, and the mention of Natsume's fear is glossed over rather quickly to save him the embarrassment, but it's an interesting mention made by Midorikawa nonetheless since it adds another layer to whatever image the audience has of Natsume and the series itself. Nyanko-sensei, having been around this kid long enough to know a lot of his vulnerabilities and insecurities (even the ones his dreams unwittingly reveal to the youkai), has seen and grown accustomed to a side of him that the audience had yet to be formally introduced to for once.

Right about now, you may be wondering how the anime adapted this scene. It didn't💀.

While the start of the episode (S3 EP5) is a one-to-one recreation of the chapter with virtually the same dialogue and scenery, any mention of Nyanko-sensei following Natsume to pick on him when it thunders is nonexistent and entirely skipped over so the gang can go straight to cleaning out the storeroom.

Most fans who have read the manga will tell you how notorious the anime is for excluding some of the characters' lines or scenes that take place in the manga, or just straight up rearranging or changing up those same factors. Sometimes those alterations work wonders, and other times they leave more to be desired, mainly if you know what happened in the manga counterpart of the episode. This such example is one of the times that'll leave people scratching their heads and wondering what warranted getting rid of a scene so insignificant that it'd have no effect on the plot of the episode whether or not it stayed. The only answer I can think of for that is the directors likely wanting a smoother progression of events to make for a viewing experience better tailored for an anime episode rather than a manga chapter.

Or, they genuinely didn't have enough space in the episode to squeeze in that little bit, which I highly doubt, but what would I know, I don't work for them. At the end of the day, we didn't get to see that scene in the episode.

After some more anime switcheroo shenanigans go on behind the scenes, along with an original episode pulling a retcon during a lightning storm, we receive our next moment in a surprising scene from the anime team in S3 EP10 (adaptation of chapter 28). Though the scene itself is short and not exactly an example of Natsume's astraphobia, I feel it should still be included because of its relation.

The chapter originally starts with Natsume and Nyanko-sensei searching for a tree that was struck by lightning during a storm the night before. However, the anime makes an addition of their own by rewinding time to that very night and showing Nyanko-sensei excitedly watching the storm take place while Natsume is tied up with his homework.

Nyanko-sensei goes on to tease him by suggesting that he doesn't want to watch the storm because he's scared, but Natsume dodges the youkai's mocking and begins to tell him to close the curtain before a crack of lightning cuts him off and illuminates his room.

Not only does Natsume not simply deny Nyanko-sensei's claim of him being scared, but his reaction to the thunder is seemingly more sudden than Nyanko-sensei's. Both of these points could subsequently lead the audience to interpret this entire sequence as the anime's first acknowledgement of his phobia, and it'd make for a very intriguing choice on the anime team's behalf after taking their ommitance of the previous scene into consideration. It could be a stretch though ngl, I tend to stretch like crazy, it makes sense to close a curtain when a pet is being noisy—

Finally moving on from S3, we eventually reach the most overt instance of Natsume's astraphobia, and potential origin or exacerbation of it, in the S4 finale (adaptation of chapter 46). This three episode arc is a largely intimate and heart wrenching one as it focuses on Natsume's journey to revisit his childhood home before it gets renovated by its new owners, a task he initially denied himself the permission of doing before realizing Touko and Shigeru would never deny him something so personal. Of course, he wouldn't be Natsume if he didn't attract a youkai along the way, and he's being pursued by one that seeks to feed on the tragic memories he formed while staying with the Aoi family, who was strongly implied to be the first family (if not, one of the first families) he was taken in by after his father's passing.

One of those memories shown to the audience is a younger Natsume relaxing in a shrine while memorizing where his childhood home is located, all in the hopes of gaining more discernible memories of his father and no longer being a burden to Miyoko and her parents.

Unfortunately, he falls asleep at the shrine and consequently loses track of time before having his slumber disturbed by a violent boom of thunder. He's so frightened by the ordeal that he can't even bring himself to rush back to the Aoi family's place, and his exhaustion puts him back to sleep until he's eventually found by some of the neighbors who went out searching for him.

The anime, with the natural strengths it has over the manga, goes the extra mile by not only keeping this portion relatively untouched, but further setting up the scenery and depicting just how rapidly the area goes from peaceful to turbulent. The character animation and voice acting make for a splendid combination and do a wonderful job of capturing this image of a helpless childhood version of Natsume.

What comes soon after this scene is a depressing sequence of events on its own, even more so when we can see he's still reeling from the storm and believing he caused the Aois to get into trouble by not getting back before dark. The adults obviously don't fault Natsume for getting stuck in the storm, but he doesn't see it that way in his shocked state.

The way Miyoko reacts by throwing her frustrations onto him doesn't help either.

And so, after aimlessly running off in his last unsuccessful attempt to find his childhood home, the memory fades away with a somber note as his present self recalls the moment he finally stopped calling for his long gone father.

Now, one could argue that Natsume had his fear of thunder prior to his time with the Aois since we don't have much reference material to work with when concerning his short period of time with his father, and they could be right for all I know. It's common for children to be startled by loud noises and bright flashes since they just aren't quite accustomed to those loud noises and bright flashes being customary for weather disturbances. Natsume, who we know grew up to be pretty sensitive to the things that go on around him, may have been one of those children who felt apprehension anytime a bad storm rolled in, and his father may have been the one to quell his fears back then. So, if we go with the conclusion that his fear didn't originate here, then this scene likely could've aggravated it. But I'm personally leaning a bit more towards the concept of this being the cause of it (partly due to how appealing that conclusion is to the obsessive part of my brain).

His initial reaction to the thunder is seemingly one of surprise rather than fear, and his behavior suggests that he's more concerned with making it back down the mountain before the thunder halts his progress. Although he's seen trying to talk himself down and fails to do so with how relentless the thunderstorm is proving to be, he doesn't need to have preexisting fears or anxieties over thunder to resort to calming himself down.

The dialogue differences strike me as something to consider too, but they're likely irrelevant.

Setting aside everything I just ranted about in the above paragraph, I should specify that I'm not simply pointing to the storm scene as the singular root cause for his future woes. Many psychological problems often aren't so black and white that someone can definitively point to one person or thing as the sole reason for the existence of their psychological problems. And phobias obviously don't always develop as a result of going through or observing a traumatic event; people can grow to fear or strongly dislike something merely by its association with an unpleasant memory or stressful situation. I know I'm starting to stretch hard rn, and this part of the post is getting awfully wordy, just hear me out—

Going back to that aforementioned short period of time with his dad, it's plain to see just how innocent of a time that was for Natsume. He was playful and affectionate with his dad like many children growing up in a healthy environment would be at that age. He doesn't even appear to have an awareness of youkai (if so, only slight enough for it to not become a problem for him just yet). We're shown later on that he would commonly draw around the house too, as evidenced by the nearly two decade old pieces of artwork his father never removed from the kitchen area and closet.

Natsume even proceeds to make a comment about this childhood version of himself likely being the mischievous type for him to run around drawing on surfaces without a care in the world.

He undeniably had his own troubles at that stage of his life though, with one of those troubles being his mom and the empty spot left behind by her passing away. Apart from his heartwarming portrait of a family with both parents, he's also shown lamenting to Miyoko after the death of his dad about not being able to remember his mom. We've seen with those two examples that her absence indeed left an impact on him early on in his life, but he doesn't stay too broken up over her considering how little he got to bond with her, and he doesn't openly despair about the loss of his dad until his growing sense of loneliness and longing becomes too much for him to smooth over.

The point I'm trying (and admittedly struggling) to make here is that after moving in with Miyoko and her parents, the worries on Natsume's plate increased tenfold and weighed him down far more than he was willing to accept at first. Suddenly, this kid had little to smile about in life, taking a glance at his only picture of his parents causes grief and envy to flare up in his chest, he's afraid of being a burden to those who took him under his wing, he's eating less than Miyoko because he's concerned with coming off as too greedy, he feels responsible for Miyoko getting picked on because of his relation to her, he's still learning the way back to the Aoi family's home, and now he's surrounded by all of these weird creatures that apparently no one else can see.

Suddenly, he's no longer that carefree toddler we saw sitting on his dad's lap as the two of them watched over his late mom's garden.

I feel moderately certain about Natsume's experience with the storm, coupled with this pivotal and devastating shift in his life, being the plausible cause for him developing his irrational fear of thunder as a child.

After this arc, we aren't greeted with another scene featuring or centered on his astraphobia until chapter 85 (which doesn't appear to be adapted in S7 judging from the PV😭), and it focuses on Natsume, Tanuma and Taki viewing a limited exhibition at an old inn that has a deep history with youkai. Not too long after the owner engages in conversation with Taki, Natsume and Tanuma briefly comment on how peaceful the inn is making the both of them feel, and a sudden lightning strike cuts through the tranquility of the inn.

It catches everyone off guard and, unsurprisingly, has Natsume frozen in place as Tanuma asks him and Taki if they're alright.

Much like Nyanko-sensei's first time mentioning Natsume's fear, the moment doesn't last long as the gang soon realizes they'll have to spend the night at the inn while they wait for the sudden storm to pass.

By this point in the manga though, Midorikawa has evidently decided to make Natsume's astraphobia a recurring element of the sorts. She could've easily left his astraphobia as another facet of his that we get to see once or twice and never again since it's not serviceable to the story as a whole, but she's started using his phobia as an additional means of displaying his discomfort in any given situation. Having a thunderstorm suddenly appear during a moment of serenity, immediately after Natsume tells Tanuma the place is making him feel strangely good, was a brilliant move of jarring him. And it works especially well here as a sign of the looming threat that'll find its way into the inn over night and slowly creep upon the group the longer they remain there.

Midorikawa pulls this same stunt again to slightly greater effect in chapter 117, where Natsume, Tanuma and Nyanko-sensei happen upon the Kisaragi Manor and find themselves taking part in a ritual for summoning youkai.

It starts with the trio meeting up in the evening to view the bamboo lanterns, but a woman claiming to be in search of a mansion requests their help to find it before it gets too dark, as well as to avoid getting caught in a downpour should the drizzle grow heavier. While Tanuma shows interest in the ritual, and the people they meet are treating them somewhat cordially, Natsume is disconcerted by the arrangement they've found themselves in. He's surrounded by five women he's never met in his life, is once again in an unfamiliar place that feels weird in Nyanko-sensei's own words, and is thrown for a loop by everyone's enthusiasm with the idea of meeting youkai rather than being put off by them.

The group isn't even a minute into their summoning ritual when a huge boom of thunder shakes the room and causes a power outage, sending them into a brief stint of darkness until Hitomi relights the candle.

While waiting for the candle though, Natsume answers Tanuma's question by for once admitting that he's bothered by thunder, leading to Nyanko-sensei characteristically picking on his phobia by calling him a chicken.

Again, the moment is subtle and restricted to one corner of the page, but it sticks the landing. Instead of using the lightning or thunder as a sign of things to come as she's done before, Midorikawa uses them here as an integrant of an already somewhat concerning scene slowly veering towards being disturbing. In addition to selling just how uncomfortable of a situation this is for Natsume, it also depicts how far along he is in his friendship with Tanuma to be honest about an irrational fear we know he'd rather not speak of.

Alas, chapter 117 was our last time seeing thunder scare Natsume, at least until the next time Midorikawa chooses to use his fear to her advantage, unless the anime miraculously surprises us with its own original take as we've seen it isn't afraid to do. What we've been given so far though is plentiful in comparison to many other plot points or quirks that get reused or called back to far less than this one. I won't throw a tantrum if his never gets referenced to or utilized again (which I doubt will happen knowing Midorikawa's writing), but I eagerly anticipate seeing it again should it reappear.

It's captivating to watch this minor detail frequently make it's way back into the story somehow, to the point that it eventually cemented itself as a miniscule yet effective way of shedding different shades of light on the many complexities of Natsume.

[pennjammin]

wanna see what your insides look like.ᐟ

JJKHALLOWEEN! chosoxreader

to sum it up. you got tickets to a live Scream experience, where you’ll be chased by the infamous Ghostface through a dark wood. but the idea of being alone with the character arouses you more than it scares you. lucky for you, though, Ghostface is totally on board.

CONTENT (MDNI): friends to lovers, smut, switch!choso, afab!reader, prop knife, fake blood, masochism kindaaa, overstim, 86’d the sorcery (modern au), breeding, exhibitionism

word count. 7k

soundtrack 💿: RUNRUNRUN - dutch melrose

divider @saradika

“Please come, Cho. I need you to come.”

An exasperated breath comes from the other end of the phone. You’re sure your best friend is shaking his head, trying to come up with a way to let you down gently, because he’s incapable of being mean.

“I wanna,” he says honestly. “I know that Scream is our thing… but I’ve gotta take this shift for the extra money. I promise to make it up to you, kay? How about a movie night when I get off?”

You huff. You know this is reasonable collateral, but your heart still aches because you’ll be missing out on the Scream experience with your best friend in the entire world; the only person who truly understands the place the movie series holds in your heart.

“A movie night with face masks,” you correct him.

He grins from the other line. “Deal. Have fun tonight. Tell Satoru to not be a little bitch.”

You grin back. “Level: impossible. But will do. Love you, Cho.”

He pauses for a minute before replying. “I love you too. Later.”

The phone hangs up and you are unable to shake the pressure in your chest. You really shouldn’t be this sad; you’ll be with the rest of your friends. But they aren’t Cho.

You sigh and begin to get dressed; a blood-red low cut tank top, black plaited skirt, ‘nets, and thick running boots. Red lipstick tied everything together, as well as your hair in two ponytails with ribbons.

Hours pass and soon, night falls. Your friends arrive to collect you, and you all make it to the sight of the attraction in no time, both fear and excitement bubbling within you.

You ride down a long, long driveway, nothing but trees surrounding the acre of attractions, stalls and decorations. At the end, there is a large arch with an inflatable ghostface, connected to a giant curtain that serves as an entrance to the woods where the experience takes place.

According to reviews, there are multiple ghostface actors, increasing difficulty for everyone else - but it increases the thrill for you. If you make it to the exit without getting caught, you get your money back and a Ghostface collectible. So as far as you’re concerned, you have no choice but to make it though.

“Quick, shoot it back!"

You gasp as your friend is shoving a tiny liquor bottle into your palm, before reaching into her purse to pass one out to every member of your group. You’re in line now, almost halfway to the start.

Your friend’s insignificant other, Toji, grins wickedly as he takes back three or four of them. You're still nervously holding onto just the one, feeling your mouth water as you imagine the nasty liquor sliding down your throat.

"Ah, look at 'er," Toji clowns, gripping your friend by the waist. "If she's afraid to take a simple shot, she ain't gonna last in there."

"Piss off, Fushiguro," Geto - another member of your group - grits. "Not all of us are hopeless alcoholics like you are."

"And 'm not afraid," you butt in, glaring at Toji. "A bitch can't hesitate?"

“Just drink it, girl,” Toji replies, his tone bored.

You roll your eyes at him before you turn away from the group and quickly take the shot, knowing you're going to need it inside. Because, no thanks to Choso, you’re going to be all alone. Geto is paired with your other friend, Satoru, and your girlfriend has Toji. Geto had offered to ditch Satoru for you, but you like the idea of being by yourself.

So, in short, you'll need a lot of liquid courage to make it through, even though Ghostface is your favorite Halloween character - and you can hardly contain your excitement.

"Alright!" Toji and your friend clap after you turn back around with a grimace.

The line moves forward. Your group is going to start being escorted inside, pair by pair, and you’ll be the last of everyone to enter. You snatch another shot from your friend and take it back, the sinking feeling in your stomach setting in, knowing how close you are to a dream come true.

But what outweighs your fear is your fantasy. Ghostface is hardly scary as he turns you on, like a pervert in heat. You had never built up the courage to ask your exes to wear the mask in bed or anything, but the fact that it had even crossed your mind makes you feel like some kind of freak.

"Step right up, step right up!" A voice booms from the man leading people in through the curtain, pulling you away from your thoughts.

He holds up an imaginary microphone to Toji and your friend.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" he asks with a grin.

Their answers conveniently match, which is cute, but not the answer the man was looking for; his face drops.

Then, the man pulls back the curtain to allow them to step through. Now you are alone with Geto and Satoru.

"You better have your arms ready," Satoru says with a nudge to Geto. "The minute anything pops out at me, I’m jumping on you.”

Geto huffs, "Absolutely not. We're not paying fifty bucks a pop for you to cower the whole time." He pauses to glance at you. "Besides, Y/N is literally going in by herself."

"Yeah, 'cause she'd rather die of fright than partner with you," Satoru teases, and Geto simply rolls his eyes.

You are zoning out of their conversation slowly, your heart thumping rapidly in your ears as time draws nearer for you to go inside.

The same routine happens with Satoru and Geto several minutes later; the bouncer asks them for their favorite scary movie before shoving them inside.

You shift your weight nervously, all alone now, your fingers fiddling with the trim of your skirt.

A few minutes pass by, shrieks coming from the other side, making you giggle at just how squeaky Satoru had gotten. Then, after another eternity, the bouncer turns to you.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" he questions, red eye contacts sliding down your body.

"Uh, I don't know," you reply with an innocent shrug.

"Oh come on, you have to have a favorite,” he grins, his face lighting up because someone finally catches his reference. “What comes to mind?"

"Um, Halloween, you know the one with the guy in the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters," you continue, unable to help smiling back at him.

He nods approvingly and pulls back the curtain, flashing lights on the other side greeting you. You swallow nervously as fog rolls over the floor, a red light at the end of a long walkway.

You carefully walk down, your buzz weighing down on you, but unfortunately not enough to get rid of your fear entirely. You look at the edge of every wall, waiting for something to jump out at you, but it never does.

Nothing happens except for cool air blowing in your face as you walk, hugging your arms, gooseflesh rising on the back of your neck. You begin to feel that this isn’t so bad, but right as you think you've made it out safely, you hear a footstep.

You turn in a flash, but there's nothing there. You know you heard it though.

You shake it off and turn back around, only to see him - standing all but a grave's length away from you.

You jump and shriek a bit as he just stands there, menacingly, in all his Ghostface glory.

You gulp thickly, alcohol lingering in your saliva. You try to come up with a fast plan; you couldn’t go down this easily.

You take a step to the side. He mirrors your actions.

You bring your hands up in defense now, feeling your stomach sink at the thought of what he could possibly do next. He cocks his masked head at an angle, slowly holding up his knife...

As he does this, you bolt right past him. He stands there for a second, possibly stunned, before you hear the crunching of him sprinting after you.

He's hot on your heels. You've exited the safe cushion of the hallway and are now in the middle of darkness, only trees and tall labyrinth-like bushes surrounding you. It’s scary, but it’s exactly what you came for. You’re living an absolute dream.

You dare to glance over your shoulder as your chest becomes tight, your oxygen feeling as though it's being choked out of you.

He's not there.

Your body shakes in fear. It's so exhilarating. You smile sadistically to yourself, deciding to give yourself a break from running.

You run around a tall bush and squat down. You glance from side to side and listen for his footsteps. They're nearby, but there’s lots of bushes around. No way will he be able to pick the exact one you’re squatting behind.

You smirk and stay where you are, on your hands and knees. His footsteps get closer, and you hold your breath.

You can see him now through the branches in the bush, his shoulders bucked as he is equally on guard as you are. He stops to look around, listening for you.

You lose your balance and take a step back, crack!

His head whips in your direction, the permanent scream etched into the mask giving your cunt its own pulse.

You let out a deep breath and back up, still crouching, as he starts to come around the bush.

You make a run for it.

Trees seem to taunt you as you zigzag through the darkness, your boots crunching twigs and dead leaves.

You realize too late that you are lost.

You can’t keep running. Your breath is slowly disappearing.

You think you may have a moment of sanctuary, so you find a bush, a tall bush that has no visibility - but that also fortunately means you cannot see if he’s near.

You squat low to the ground and pant as quietly as you can. You’re enjoying yourself, but unfortunately without a partner, you have no way to discuss strategy. You don’t know what to do next.

But that’s when you hear it.

Crunch!

Someone is nearby, but you can’t see how nearby.

You figure you may have time to run again; the issue is that you still can hardly breathe.

But, another part of you writhes in the idea of being caught. You know realistically, though, that they aren’t allowed to touch you, but God do you wish for the opposite.

You swallow down the burn in your throat from running. You need to move.

You turn your back for a split second to look for a new hiding spot - your eyes land on a gap in foliage nearby. You turn back to stand straight, but to your horror a new Ghostface is there, standing tall over you; bare, toned abs covered in blood glistening under the moonlight. You feel your breath hitch and you yelp again.

"Surprise, Sidney," he beams, his voice a little raspy and - dare you say, familiar.

You swallow again before ripping an exaggerate shriek, scrambling to stand up, backing away as you do so, before thump! your spine hits the bark of a tree you swore wasn’t there a second ago. You’re trapped between bushes and trees.

Your chest heaves as you try to back up farther against the tree, but to no avail, and the half-naked Ghostface creeps closer. His hand with the fake knife is raising slowly, which you know is for dramatic effect. But on account that you know he can’t really stab you, you wonder what his plan is once he reaches you.

You whine, shaking your head with a quivering lip, wondering if you can fight, or run. But instead you become distracted as you take another look at him.

God, his stomach is carved into perfect shapes of abdominal muscle. You're so enticed by such art that you don't even notice him putting a hand right behind your head.

Your lips part in surprise once you register the closeness, and your back arches against the tree, as if that would move you farther away from him.

He takes his knife and presses the tip to your chin - using force to point your face towards him, and you make eye contact with the two soulless pits he has for eyes.

"What do you suppose I ought to do with you now, hmm?" he questions lowly, tilting his head to the side.

You swallow thickly, hands scrambling behind you against the bark of the tree. The next group should be arriving soon - right? You wonder how long you will be alone with him. You don't think you'll make it if he keeps you pinned to the tree like this.

"Let me go," you suggest, voice hoarse from fright, and lust.

"Well sheesh, Y/N, that's lame," the voice suddenly raises a few octaves and is much more playful than before. "I mean - goddamnit."

"You-” you cut yourself on in astonishment. “How do you…?”

"I fucking ruined it," he growls. "I'm so stupid."

Suddenly, he's breaking away from you, his knife falling from your face. You watch in actual horror as he uses his free hand to lift up his mask - revealing the angelic face of your best friend. Choso.

"Cho, what the fuck?" you gasp, your fright immediately dissolving into... embarrassment, but masking it in the form of annoyance. "You dick, what are you doing here?"

"I told you that I had to work," he says meekly, "I thought it would be fun to play Ghostface, but I mostly thought you’d enjoy it.”

You feel a little bad after that, he’s entirely too sweet. But you can't help but wonder what he’s implying.

"I... do enjoy seeing you as Ghostface," you admit, but you're embarrassed because you know he saw you ogling the fuck out of his abs. "But... you went through all this trouble for me?"

"Mhmm," Choso nods proudly, his hair falling boyishly over his forehead. "What, you don't like it?"

"No, I-I..." you taper off, unsure of what you want to say next. "It’s just, why are you shirtless? You did that for me too?”

As his face heats, his cheeks turn apple red. “Maybe.”

Oh, he’s terrible. This new knowledge does not help the tingling at the meeting of your thighs.

His embarrassed face changes to a grin after seeing the expression on your face, and he takes a step closer to you again. "So, you forgive me for bailing on you then, yeah?”

“Mm, not quite,” you frown. “You think you can just flash your sexy pecs and toned stomach at me and I’ll forget that you left me here all alone?”

You see each word hit Choso, but you try to look past it, as you’re only speaking to him like this to rile him up. Because now, your nerves are on fire, lust filling up your body. He’s so close, why is he standing so close? You can smell him; a heavenly mix of wood, musk, and corn syrup.

He smelled like your Choso, who’s body fit perfectly against yours when you cuddled, who’s silky hair slid through your fingers when you played with it, who’s laugh is extremely contagious. You try not to make it obvious that you’re inhaling deeply, breathing him in for what felt like the first time.

Damned the alcohol, you think to yourself. Making you look at your friend with such feelings you’ve been swallowing for months. But you just can’t help it…

“You think my pecs are sexy?” Choso asks, but he’s not grinning. He looks genuinely shocked.

You don’t reply and instead smile at his innocence. “And not to mention, did you not even see how scared I was?”

“I did, but,” Choso admits, “I… I’m probably some kind of sick freak, because-“

“Because you liked it?” you finish for him, and his moon-colored face somehow grows whiter.

He nods carefully.

“I feel the same way,” you reply, taking a shaking hand and planting it right over his heart. You feel the pec flex as he responds to your touch. “Why haven’t you dressed up f’me before?”

Choso’s Adam’s Apple bobs harshly in his throat. “I…I thought you’d be weirded out.”

“No,” you said softly, “it’s amazing, Choso. That you enjoy my interests enough to go out of your way like this.”

“Well, of course,” he scoffs, shaking his hair from his eyes. “I would do anything to make you happy.”

“Like what?” you coo, tilting your head to the side, sliding your hand across his chest to grip his thick arm.

“Y/N,” Choso breathes, his eyes fluttering shut. “You h-have to stop touching me like that.”

“Not till you answer my question,” you say.

“Whatever you want,” he whispers, leaning towards you more, as if he wants to put his head on your shoulder. “I am a man of little words. I don’t know what it is that women like.”

“Well, I promise I’m not that complicated,” you reply, sliding your hand up the side of his neck to rest on his jaw. He nuzzles his cheek into your touch.

“No, but you might not want what it is that I really want to do to you,” Choso spits out suddenly, his words coming fast and nervously.

“To me?” you ask, astonished.

He grunts and shifts his weight uncomfortably. “For you. I-I meant for you.”

“No, you didn’t,” you tug your bottom lip with your top teeth - his words traveling straight to your cunt. You couldn’t take much more of this. “How do you know I don’t want it unless you try?”

“Because,” Choso grits suddenly, jerking his head away from your face. “All the guys say you’d never go for someone like me. They say I wouldn’t know what to do with you.” He pauses to sigh. “They may be right but, nonetheless, I wanna see you scream and run like you did a second ago. It just got me so…”

He grunts uncomfortably, and you try to pretend you don’t notice the freakishly long bulge in his costume pants.

“You know everything about me,” you frown, dropping your hand. “You shouldn’t have listened to them.”

“Well, we are just friends,” he replies nervously. “Didn’t want to do anything you don’t want.”

You scoff, “What could you possibly wanna do? You know my limits.”

Choso bites his lip. “But I want to… to push the limits really hard. Especially since,” he pauses and glances around. “We are alone.”

“Push them, then,” you say, and you swear Choso’s eyes are going to pop free from their sockets. “Let’s say I run and hide again. If you can find me…” you pause to smile. “All limits are off.”

You blink up at him innocently, wanting to run your hand over his bulge just as a tease - but you refrain. You had plenty of tricks ready for him.

Choso’s eyes flash and he looks down at the ground for a second. When his head lifts again, desire has overcome his pupils, and he’s smirking.

“Better run then, Sidney. I will not be merciful.”

You take a deep breath before peeling yourself off of the tree and beginning a sprint. Your stomach is knotted with excitement. You have no idea what’s going to happen, but you can’t believe Choso’s down for… whatever it is.

You must have been dreaming. This would change things between you and Choso forever, but maybe that was for the better. Maybe the two of you needed to do this to break the friendzone, even if it was in the form of some kind of sick game of chase in the middle of a forest.

You run and run. You run until you can’t even see the actual attraction anymore; where there had previously been signs to let you know you were still in the bounds of the game, there’s none now.

You may very well be lost but you’re also away from possibly being seen by anyone. Totally not intentional.

You smirk as you find a new spot, and plant yourself there. You should have a few minutes before Choso catches up.

You take your phone out of your pocket. Barely any signal, but enough to see that the group chat is on fire.

Toji

There’s absolutely no reason I should hear Gojo screaming like a bitch from out here 😂

Satoru

ok, im hiding rn, and there’s people everywhere.

besides suguru left me ☹️

Geto

Yes because you were compromising my hiding place with your fuck ass breathing. 👍🏼

Y/F/N

Well, Suguru just made it, so now where are you?

And Y/N?

Satoru

there’s literally nothing but trees ????

but i think i see the lights at the exit

Toji

mentioned you in the chat: You got ma girl here worrying bout you , are u alive???

Satoru

Y/N wya so you can help me out of here 😭🙏🏼

You

im trying to stay off my phone, take notes

Satoru

nah hell nah. i need my phone out in case i need to call 911.

Toji

The cops can’t do shit for u 😭

Y/F/N

mentioned you in the chat: Are you lost?

Choso

Guys did you leave her alone?! Wtf

Nanami

Yeah, you guys are sick.

Satoru

im not hearing shit from the two mfs who decided not to come.

Geto

I offered to go with her -.-

You

i can see the exit guys. im fine you lie.

Satoru

i can see the exit too. i don’t see u. sure ur in the right place?

Geto

I can see your hair, Satoru.

Satoru

FUCK HE FOUND ME

Geto

As could anyone with eyes -.-

Y/F/N

Satoru just came out screaming so loud he woke up a baby. Now they’re crying together 😭

Choso

Guys focus. What did you do to Y/N

You

im fine cho <3

Satoru

AWWWW

Toji

Brotha eughhhh

Y/F/N

Okay, we’re going to play some of the games. Call us when you make it to the exit or if we haven’t heard from you, we’re coming in bitch!

Nanami

Good. At least you all have a plan.

Your phone continues to buzz, but you don’t reply. You sigh, silently thanking Choso for playing along with you in the chat.

“Seems like your friends are looking for you,” a voice suddenly breathes, muffled from the mask.

Your breath hitches as you lock your phone and it falls to the forest floor.

“You found me so fast,” you say with a gulp, turning to face him.

“Didn’t wanna waste precious time,” he says with a chuckle. “Now, what’s that you said? All limits are off? I can do whatever I want?”

You smirk as you turn to face him. “Does widdle Cho even know what he wants?” you mock.

You can’t see his face under the mask, but his body responds to you: his shoulders tense and his head leans forward.

“You,” he says quietly. “On my cock.”

You bite your lip, “Oh? How?”

He grunts and steps forward, before taking your throat between his fingers. His squeeze is soft, not enough to take your breath but enough to force your head still.

“Need your pretty lips on it,” he replies. “Wanna smear your lipstick. Always love when you get dolled up, but too bad y’gonna look a mess when I’m finished.”

You whine a bit in response and hold his wrist, looking directly at the eyes of the mask. “Where’s this side been hiding?”

“Told you already,” he grunts, “didn’t wanna scare you off with the twisted things I think about doing to you.”

You groan at the way his words are flooding straight to your panties. You thank your past self for wearing a skirt, it’s going to be so ridiculously easy to slide out of it.

“You think some head is twisted?” you grin. “Maybe they were right when they said you couldn’t handle me.”

This earns you a deep growl as he uses his grip on your throat to force you to slide down, until your knees hit the hard earth. You hiss in pain but ultimately don’t care, as he releases your throat and uses his knife to tip your face up towards him.

At this angle, he’s delicious. Solid stomach stares at you from just inches away and the mask on his shoulders makes your thighs quench with desire.

“I mean face fucking you until you’re gasping for air,” he grits, “‘Choso, no’ you’d say, but I can’t understand you with a mouth full of dick, hmm?”

You blink up at him, too stunned to reply. Your lips part in expectancy, and your hands shoot out to lay flat against the top of Choso’s thighs.

He’s doing such a fantastic job of catering to your disgusting fantasy that you can’t help but slither your hands up to the top of his waistband before he can say another word. You want to please him so bad, wanna be good for your Choso.

He stands and watches, still as air. His chest rises and falls as he breathes, the mask still staring down at you, but it makes things hotter knowing that on the other side of the mask is Choso’s stare.

Your fingers tuck into the waistband of the black pants.

Choso lets out a small noise. “I-I’m supposed to be the one in control, not fair.”

You grin but do not halt your movements. Your fingers begin tugging, tugging, tugging down the pants - along with his boxers.

You watch as his length slowly gets revealed until it inevitably pops out - slapping against his stomach before hanging erect in alignment with your face.

You take in a deep breath, and Choso appears to be holding his own. You examine his cock, just to make him nervous. He’s got a very thin amount of hair that leads from the trail on his stomach, the length itself being veiny and darker than him; skinny at the base, but fat and terrifying at the pink tip.

“I knew it’d would be this pretty,” you hum, “pretty cock on a pretty boy.”

Choso’s hips shift as he knocks himself forward so that the tip grazes your chin, leaving a faint residue of his sticky precum. Your eyes almost roll to the back of your head.

“Th-Thank you,” he whimpers, “need your throat.”

He leans down to take one of your pigtails into each hand. He is not gentle now, his grip being harsh enough to make you yelp; when you do, he stuffs his dick right between your red lips.

Your eyes flutter closed immediately at the feeling of a full mouth. You carefully wrap your lips around him as he slowly shoves his hips forward until he’s barely halfway in, and his tip kisses the back of your throat.

You stick your tongue out so that it can glide against the sensitive underside of his cock. He notices and his head tilts back.

“S-So warm,” he moans out, sitting stagnant for a minute, before looking down at you.

You hum a bit, knowing the vibrations feel good against his tip, and he thanks you by sliding his cock back out of your mouth and ramming it back in.

You gag and your mouth gets watery, drool leaking out of the corners and covering every inch of him that you are able to take. His thrusts start getting faster, smearing your lipstick all along the length of him, his grip on your hair never loosening.

His little moans are so delicious; soft whines as he uses your face for his pleasure.

“Doin’ s-so much better than I imagined,” he mutters out, and though you love looking up and seeing the mask, you desperately want to see his innocent face twisted up as he experiences this ungodly amount of pleasure.

“Mmh-” you moan around him.

You’re still in awe that this is happening. You’d had plenty of opportunities to do things like this with him, but you’d never been sure he would go for it. You guess you can’t blame him for feeling the same way, because how were either one of you going to ask for a face fuck?

All that doesn’t matter anymore because everything in this moment is perfect, including him. Your Choso.

You take your hand and wrap it around the base at the part that doesn’t fit in your mouth. You take him out of your mouth to plop a pool of spit there and slide your hand up and down for a minute, giving your jaw a break.

“Take off the mask for a second,” you say to him, now that you can speak.

He obeys immediately. The mask is gone, hanging from the hand that doesn’t have a fist full of your hair.

Your lips part at seeing his perfect face, fucked out, twisted in astonishment.

“Back in,” he demands softly, tugging your pigtail.

You blink as you obey and slide your mouth back over his length. You keep your face angled upwards to look at him, and he’s staring down at you like you’re both the most amazing thing he’s ever seen and the best thing he’s ever felt.

You lather up your saliva as you continue trying to go down as far as you can, taking his cock down your throat, which unlocks a new noise from Choso that gets your cunt pounding harder.

You twist your hand over the base and hollow your mouth out to squeeze your cheeks around his sensitive skin. By now your face is covered in drool, spit bubbles all around his tip, saliva dripping onto the earth below you.

Choso loses it and leans forward, releasing your hair and dropping his mask, placing his hands on the trunk of the tree. Now his hips are thrusting, hard - the bottom of his stomach kissing the tip of your nose as he fucks your face.

“Hah - oh,” he whines as he uses your mouth. “Th-Think ‘mgonna cum already.” He sounds sad, and you smile on his dick.

You don’t say anything back but you grumble deep in your throat again, knowing it’s going to drive him insane.

But he quickly pulls his cock back out of your mouth with a deep breath as if his head had been underwater.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Not till I get to make you feel good, too.”

“I did feel good,” you say hoarsely, wiping saliva and lipstick from your face. “Liked pleasing you.”

Choso groans and shakes his head, his chest heaving rapidly. “Stand up for me,” he says gently.

You miss rough Choso already.

You obey though, standing back tall, almost eye level to him in your thick boots.

He doesn’t waste any time; in a flash he’s latched himself onto you, hands pressing into your thighs and he slides them up slowly towards your hips. He tilts his head to the side as you find your back hitting the tree - again, this time, circumstances much different.

“Can’t believe my pretty best friend wants me to fuck her,” he speaks, voice sultry with lust. “Sounds too good to be true.” He leans forward again and lets his nose brush yours, and you shiver with a deep sigh.

“I want you so much,” you say pathetically, bringing your arms over his shoulders and digging your fingertips into the hair behind his head.

His brows furrow in pleasure and you keep speaking.

“In different ways,” you say, “not just to fuck me. But right now… that’s all I want. Please, I need it. Need you.”

“Such a good girl when you beg,” Choso’s voice is soft, but firm, “you never have to beg with me, but I love hearing it. Keep going.”

“Please.”

“Yes?”

“Please, Choso.”

“Choso what?”

“Mmh - god, I hate you.”

“Love you most.”

You go to fire back, but he shuts you up with a harsh crash of his mouth against yours. His warm, wet lips mold right into yours, sliding effortlessly together. Your hands shoot out to his shoulders and he keeps his hands on your hips, gripping them like you’re going to disappear if he doesn’t maintain his hold on you.

Your name leaves his lips in soft little pants as he tilts his head to the side, forcing your lips apart with his tongue before he slides the wet muscle inside so deep that you can feel it on the back of your throat.

You suck on his tongue and he grunts thanks into your mouth. Your hands are running wildly over each other, as if you could crawl inside one another’s skin, two souls joining as one.

He breaks away and gasps, and you grab him by his hair and force his head to an angle. He allows you to then leave sloppy, red kisses all over his neck. His eyes flutter closed as you pleasure him, knowing your innocent baby must feel so good.

You pull back and blink at the mess on his neck.

“Cho, it left stains, I…”

“Don’t care,” he hisses, “brand me all you want. Want everyone to know, that in some way, you own me.”

His big hands whip you around suddenly, like you’re nothing but a ragdoll; now your cheek is planted against the tree and your hands are digging into the bark for stability.

Choso rips up your skirt, and presses his bare, wet cock right to your backside.

“Always fuck my pillow while I moan for you, y’know,” he grunts, reaching his arm around the front of your waist, tugging the thin material that are your panties to the side. “Then you come over and lay your pretty head all in my cum, leaving your scent, and I do it again. Can’t get enough, just love you so much.”

You gasp as he talks, the quake of desire making your legs tremble as Choso’s fingers start circling your clit. Your best friend - so sweet and cute - knew exactly where to find it. You cry out.

You want to pretend you’re disgusted at him making you sleep on his cum, but you really don’t care. You find the thought exhilarating, wondering how many times he’d done that, while smiling innocently next to you.

“Y-You’re so - mmh,” a moan cuts you off as he applies more pressure to your clit. “You fuck yourself to me? My good boy.”

Choso whines before he begins panting against the back of your neck, pathetically rubbing himself against your fishnets, leaving slimy trails of his precum and your saliva all over your ass. He’s keeping the same rhythm with his hips as his fingers on your bundle of nerves, and just when you think nothing can feel any better, he starts to push his dick between your thighs.

You feel his cock slide over your clothed pussy over and over, meeting his fingers at your clit as he swirls them expertly.

Your eyes roll back as you try desperately to reach your high, but you need him to stop teasing you. And fast.

“Choso, please,” you cry, pushing your hips back against him, the sound of your skin meeting his pelvis cracking like the twigs under your feet.

“What is it, my love?” he coos hotly in your ear. “What do you want? Anything, you got it.”

“Ngh - you, goddamnit,” you growl now, frustration overcoming your softness for your best friend. “Who taught you to tease like this?”

Choso chuckles in your ear, “My dear, you did.”

You gasp as he pulls his hands and his cock away from you suddenly. “H-How did I-”

“Mmh, did you think I wasn’t listening to you whenever you’d come over and tell me about your hookups?” he questions softly, taking a step back and you realize he’s going to collect his mask. “It hurt, believe me, but I’ve been taking notes. Wanted to ensure I could make you happier than those other losers.”

You realize this means Choso’s been thinking of fucking you for way longer than you can comprehend. You can hardly blame him; though it came later, you’d had the same awful thoughts of him, but you were able to control it. You’d talked yourself out of it, that is, until tonight - with the liquor in your system.

“You make me happier without fucking me, y’know,” you grin, as his presence returns behind you.

“Oh,” his voice drops, “s-so you don’t wanna do this anymore?”

You gasp and shake your head. Now isn’t the time to be second guessing things, you were deep in heat and Choso would be traumatized if you had to stand here any longer, your cunt dripping uncontrollably down your thighs.

“I want to, mmh,” you hiss, “‘m just saying, you make me happy in general. But… I wouldn’t know if you can fuck me as good as the others, would I?”

Choso growls at this. His fingertips find the edge of your panties and he pulls them over once again - your body jerks at the reunion of his hands on your skin.

“Not as good,” he corrects, “better.”

His dick finds your folds again, thigh fucking you for several moments to lubricate himself in your warm juices. You end up standing on your toes at the shiver that ensues from this, your back arching against him.

He takes a deep breath, and finally, pressure hits your hole as his pretty tip pushes through the threshold.

The first thing either of you says is a dramatic “fuck,” as Choso pauses with just the tip in.

“Why y’stopping?” you panic.

“Hah - the guys said if it’s really tight, you’re not ready f’me,” Choso says sadly.

He almost goes to move his hips back out when you shove yours against him, sliding yourself down several inches of cock.

“Just gotta give me a sec to adjust, Cho,” you say, growing angrier at a second mention of the cockblockers. “Y’so big.”

“Not big, you’re just tight like this,” he groans. “M-Might not last long.”

“‘s okay,” you say, biting your lip, knowing you’ve been brewing a devilish plan in your head the entire time - so if he cums fast, that has nothing to do with you. “Fill me up, please.”

Choso wastes no time bowing to your request. He takes his arms and wraps them around your body, planting his hands on your stomach, where he hikes up your shirt and your breasts fly out of their restraint - your bra.

“Mmh, mmh,” Choso’s mumbling behind you as he thrusts his entire length up into your cervix, dragging himself back out as slowly as he wants, before shoving his cock back in hastily.

His fingers are gently twisting your nipples now, this combined with the cold breeze from the woods has goosebumps rising all over you.

You whine a pathetic “Choso. My Choso,” as his pace quickens; his sheer amount of girth perfectly passing over the sensitive ridges in your canal. At the angle, his dick is curving up into your g-spot, making your cunt wetter; inflaming the urge to squirt all over him.

Choso is grunting like it’s his first time feeling a real pussy. He digs his fingers into the soft skin of your breasts for leverage and continues drilling his hip bones into your ass.

You decide to look back at him. The mask is on his face, which makes your eyebrows furrow in pleasure. One of his hands leaves your breast and finds your pigtail - yanking your head so that you’re forced to keep looking at him. You thank him by meeting the wrecking force of his hips with your own.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, his head falling back. “Fuck this cock, s’all yours. Doing so good-“ he cuts himself off with a whine. “Been in love with you for years, but now I know you got this good ass-” a grunt cuts him off, “ngh - fuck, and we’re just friends? I’m supposed to share this with other people?”

You laugh at him before your smugness is cut off with a moan. “N-Not anymore,” you answer, “I’m yours now, Choso.”

“All mine?” he echoes, driving an extra deep thrust into you for emphasis.

“Yours,” you repeat, “how do you feel about that?”

Choso growls and leans his torso forward, the delicate curve in your back sliding perfectly against his stomach and chest. “Like this.”

Fwip! Fwip! Fwip!

His pace grows quicker, harder. You can’t believe you’re still standing with the amount of pleasure he’s inflicting on your poor insides. Each time his tip hits the opening to your uterus, you sulk out a pathetic cry, but he’s not showing mercy. Your sweet best friend could care less how bad it hurts - and you love it.

“Need you to be meaner,” you groan, “more often. Fuck. Needed this so bad.”

“Yeah? Y’like that?” Choso buzzes, pulling your head towards him even harder. “Like me tearing up your guts?”

“S’much,” you are barely able to moan, let alone speak as white spots appear in your vision. “Wanna c-cum.”

“Mmh - not yet,” Choso purrs, hand falling from your hair, then leaning his head over your shoulder so that you can see a glimpse of the creepy Ghostface mask out of the corner of your eye. “Already gonna cum? Thought you were stronger than this.”

“Ngh - usually,” you whine pathetically, “but you - you feel so good.”

“I know,” Choso grins, slamming himself into you several times in a row before slowing his strokes to an agonizing pace.

You’re still convinced this is a dream you have yet to wake from. To think, he was afraid to even make the first move. Now you’re bent over, middle of the darkness, crying out his name as he fucks your brain against your skull. You can’t think, can’t feel anything besides your needy hole being filled and then some.

“O-Oh,” Choso grunts, “‘kay, maybe you can cum, ‘cause I don’t think ‘mma make it.”

“Oh, really?” you taunt, giggling, now using force from the tree to throw your whole body back against his.

“Y-Y/N, no,” he complains, his hands flying to your hips as if they’re reigns he needs to hang onto.

You ignore him, using all the strength in your legs to fuck back onto him, your pace fast - till you feel the twitch in his cock and his moans become louder than yours.

“No!” Choso shouts fakely, before trying to pull himself out of you, but you follow him with your hips and he lets his spurts of cum splash uncontrolled all over your walls.

You grin greedily because you’re not finished with him. You reach next to you and rip off his mask, wanting to see your plan unfold in his facial features.

Your hips don’t stop, even as Choso’s cock twitches and shakes inside of you, and his hands are leaving bloody nail-shaped crescents on your hips by now from the amount of pressure he’s putting on them.

“Hah - hah - ngh, mmm, n-noooo,” he whines, his head falling limp on your shoulder as you continue to swirl your hips on his cum-covered dick, using him to get your orgasm.

“Such a good boy, Cho,” you purr in his ear, “letting me use your cock however I want? Dressing up to get my attention? Fucking me exactly how I asked? S-So good.”

“Th-then why are you punishing me,” he stutters, his teeth sinking into your bare shoulder as overstimulation floods him.

“‘M not, Cho baby,” you say softly, “I need to cum too. Not fair only you get to finish, is it?”

“I-I was gonna help you,” he says, his voice muffled from his face buried in your shoulder.

He drives his point home by reaching up to your clit, using his fingers to rotate little devilish circles over the spot. You feel your stomach light itself on fire.

“Agh - can’t take it,” Choso groans. “‘m gonna cum again.”

You can barely hear him, because you’re so cockdrunk that your senses are gone. All that exists in your mind’s eye is Choso’s hand and his cock, both pleasuring you in different ways.

“‘M cumming!” you chant together, full body compulsions overcoming you both as you clench around him - milking every last drop of his second orgasm out as your own ripples through your veins.

You hear squelching as Choso gasps, and you’re vaguely aware of your pussy gushing, but you can’t find it in you to care as you’re still trying to stop grunting and shaking.

“Oh god,” you manage to rasp, your limp body falling towards the tree as Choso lets go of you.

He collapses against the tree next to you and slowly lifts up his pants as his chest heaves; the world silent around you, save for both of your breathing.

Moments pass and nothing is said, just a silent agreement in the air that the two of you need to gently float off back to the ground.

But then, Choso’s curious voice pierces the bubble.

“I-Is it bad that I…” Choso gestures to you. “Finished in you like that? N-never done that before, but it felt so nice.”

“No,” you answer, your voice ringing in your ears. “Nothing bad will happen, I take a pill to prevent that. Don’t worry. You can do that as much as you want and whenever you want.”

Choso nods, “Can’t even think about doing it again right now.”

He’s so fucked. You are too, feeling like you can’t get your brain to speak to your bones. You can’t move. All you can do is blink away your high and catch your breath, stars still dancing along your vision.

But after a while, you’re able to pry yourself off of the tree, and the two of you clean each other up as best as you can - Choso wipes his bloody hand print off of your throat, but when you try to get your lipstick off of his neck, he fights you.

“No,” he says sharply, “leave it.”

You feel your face heat. “Choso, everyone’s gonna know.”

“That we made out and you kissed my neck,” he grins, leaning forward to plant a kiss on your nose.

And just like that, your best friend, the person you love more than anything else has you wrapped around his finger and ready to obey his commands. His softness has returned for good.

The two of you find yourselves walking hand in hand through the woods, ecstasy surrounding you in your own little bubble.

You pull out your phone and alert your friends that you’re approaching; and when you two reach the gate, the whole group is standing there - Satoru munching on orange and black popcorn, Toji holding a stuffed panda with blood stains, Geto examining his nails, and Y/F/N slurping a giant purple drink.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Toji bursts out, almost immediately after seeing you two approach.

“I know you’re fucking lying,” Y/F/N adds, almost dropping her drink.

“You motherfuckers were in there FUCKING?” Satoru shouts, popcorn flying from his fingers in disbelief.

Choso turns beet red. “N-No, what?”

“Yep,” you nod, contradicting him. “Nasty, rough, raw sex.”

“RAW IS CRAZY!”

“Oh my GOD-”

“Hot.”

Everyone turns to look at Geto in disbelief.

“What? You mean to tell me you guys didn’t consider fucking in the woods?” he questions Toji.

“Well, I asked,” Toji says, scratching the back of his neck. “She said we’d get caught.”

Your friend kicks him in the leg.

“They didn’t,” Satoru points out. “You freaks. Choso, we didn’t even know you were here.”

“Right,” Choso nods. “That was the point.”

Satoru bursts into laughter which prompts the rest of the group to giggle.

“Also, we were wrong,” Toji admits suddenly. “We always tell him he can’t do shit with Y/N… but he managed to tame the beast. Well done, soldier.”

Choso rolls his eyes. “I-It’s not… I didn’t… she-”

“Well, anyways, I’m feeling rather… sobered now,” you cut him off, adjusting your shirt, unaware everyone can see the red marks Choso left on your sides, as well as the giant hole in your fishnets. “Say we grab some drinks?”

“Sounds nice,” Choso confirms.

“Oh I’m sure it does,” Toji snickers. “Gonna get her drunk again for round two?”

“Toji!”

“Ewww!”

“Nobody wanted to hear that!”

You giggle quietly next to Choso before you look up at him, only to see he’s already smiling down at you, disheveled hair and all.

“I love you, Sidney,” he coos.

“I love you more, Cho.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I Never Missed You 1/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 3.5 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: 1/3 You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. The first chapter features banter and pining. If you're here for smut, stay tuned. There is an entire chapter of it coming right up.

Your lawyer says it would be a good idea. He even dares to look at you from under his brow like you're a child who doesn't know what's good for her.

And you don't.

Because that's exactly how you feel like: a grown woman who's stunted to a kid, now being supervised by adults. 

The bodyguard they assigned you - the one you accepted because he was your lawyer's first choice - is exactly the broad, brooding type you have always imagined bodyguards to be like.

But he's not wearing sunglasses, and he's not wearing a suit. He says the point of a bodyguard is that they don't look like a bodyguard. 

The first thing you actually pay attention to is the milky-white eyelashes. Only days after you hear that this man rarely shows his face. You were given a file on him, but you never peeked inside it because you were pissed that such drastic measures had to be taken in the first place. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now you pry it from the pile of papers you buried it into, open it, and the first - and only - photo you see is a perfect portrayal of what Death looks like. 

He's the Reaper himself when adorned with that human skull. Keen but emotionless eyes stare from the pits of the sockets to somewhere in the distance, but that look is a stare into the past. The photo raises thousands of questions, and not only the need to know why this man prefers to wear human bones when he's shooting people.

Because apparently, that’s what he used to do before he became a bodyguard. He's buff, that you already know. But in that picture, he looks even more packed, with what you suppose is a bullet vest beneath that blouse. He’s holding an ugly-looking gun – not a pistol, but a rifle of some sort. The gear on him no doubt weighs something close to 60 pounds. His sleeves are rolled up and expose the crisscross veins on his forearms along with war-ugly, crude tattoos, and you swallow. 

Were you really looking at a picture of a barbaric soldier like it was some peculiar soft porn now?

You flip the file closed and toss it on the table, rather disgusted with yourself.

The next time you see him, you look into those brown eyes a moment longer. That stoic stare is the only thing you recognize as that of the man in the picture. That, along with his size, although photos really can't convey how this brooding grunt makes you feel: small and insignificant. Nor do they illustrate how the man looks like he’s the most graceful bull in a china shop when moving inside your house.

You suppose he grew up poor, the way he looks at your furniture, your half-a-mile bookshelf, and the latest art piece you got last month in your living room. He's judging you. 

You're posh. And clueless. And a child.

And this brute lives with you, for now. He's placed downstairs until the target is neutralized. And he's not just a bodyguard: he's hunting the hunter while you're the bait.

It should give you a thrill; your friend giggles when you two gossip about him over a lunch while he's standing only a few feet away. But this situation does not give you a thrill. It just makes you pissed.

And it's not just the situation, it's this... Simon Riley who makes you pissed.

Couldn't they teach manners, some conversation skills at the bodyguard school or wherever the hell this pale, emotionless Hulk came from?

You recheck his file and snoop some more details about his past. He didn't go to bodyguard school (of course he didn't); he used to work for some PMC. The brute's a cold-blooded, cold-hearted mercenary. To put it more eloquently, he's an elite soldier of some tactical unit. But all of that is classified, as is almost every other detail about him. The only thing you are left with is that he's British through and through, but you can already tell that by his accent - the thick Mancunian that makes your stomach and heart flip.

It's gruff – of course it's gruff – and sometimes chafes your ears like they were being grated with the softest grater. You find yourself thinking about him while you're in the shower, when your fingers start to drift and wander.

And for the love of god, you are not thinking about that accent and those eyes while you're masturbating. You're not going to mourn the fact that he never rolls his sleeves when he's with you. When he's at work.

"I saw your file," you start to chitchat over breakfast one day.

"I reckon."

He won't even touch the coffee you poured him but proceeds to drink almost all the tea. The delicate china looks miniature in his hands as he pours the Earl Grey into his cup. The cups are dainty, too – this savage would prefer a large, black mug, perhaps, from which to gulp his tea.

"So. What made you become a soldier?"

"Joined the SAS when I was 17."

And another thing he won't do is look at you when you speak. No manners at all in this man, only rough, sharp edges. He sits as far from you as he can, at the other end of the table, as if you were in a meeting. Or a war council.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

You roll your eyes. Conversation skills, god. Just give this man at least some charm…

"I'm going to do some shopping," you declare. "You can stay here."

Finally, he raises his stare. It's full of tired distaste.

"Nah. That's not how this works."

You rise from the table, gracefully and with a neutral face, indicating that you are an adult and won't be needing a babysitter at a store.

"Lady." 

The command is dark and stops you before you have taken one step from the table. It's a slur, almost.

He rises from the table too, and you almost feel sorry, noticing he hasn't yet finished his toast.

"You hired me. And I'm gonna do my job."

He looks big and broad, like a beautiful storm, with that piercing stare and the most alluring lashes you have ever seen on a man. Your voice turns into a meek, pitched attempt to reason with a giant.

"...I'm just going shopping."

His head tilts with a mock: you're only a child in his eyes. 

"Then let's go shopping."

…......…......

Sitting next to this giant in a taxi must be a hilarious-looking scene. A charming, vibrant lady and a sullen, intimidating Theseus – what a pair.

You've also never been this close to him. The man always sits with a wide spread. One heavy thigh almost touches your knees, which you have turned towards him for some unfathomable reason. You were taught to sit with knees closely set together, and that’s what you’re trying to do now: make yourself as small and feminine as possible. It only accentuates this man's size compared to yours. There's a pile of shopping bags between you two, and your gaze is directed outside the window, but you can feel his presence like there's a thrumming monolith beside you.

And he's always dressed in black. You kind of enjoyed how you two looked at the store: you in your heels and a pearl white suit, he in black, tactical ripstop and boots. You wouldn't define the man well-dressed… but he is sharply dressed in his own field, that's for sure. Even a commoner like you could see that.

He had complained about your clothes. White draws too much attention and makes for a bigger target. You had brushed him off with a scoff. You’re not going to change the way you dress because of this.

"You're from Manchester, right?"

You're only trying to make the journey home more enjoyable, but feel like you're snooping again, this time from the man himself. The less you know about Simon Riley, the more you want to learn who he is. It is only natural to get a little curious when his file barely had two paragraphs and a photo. You suppose even that single picture was taken and given forward with reluctance. 

And the only thing you learn is that small talk is a completely foreign concept to this man.

"You're quite the Sherlock," he mutters with that fat accent that gave him away the minute you two shook hands. You Sherlock about some more, look at the left hand that rests on his thigh.

There's no ring. Not even a tan line. He must be lonely: no relationship could stand working hours like these.

"Do you still live there?"

"...No."

"Do you miss the place?"

"No."

The short answers are guttural and spoken from the back of his throat. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, or if this Simon is like this with everyone. He's not annoyed, though, not the way you're beginning to be.

"Aren't you a chatty one…" you mumble while watching cloudy London pass by. You figured he might hear it, and perhaps that was your purpose, even if your voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm not here to talk. Ma'am."

…......…......

You are told to stay away from the windows. The dinner table is moved so no one can aim at your head through a glass. And even then, most curtains must be closed at all times. 

He goes through doors first, and advises against going out at all. You get a list of things you should take into consideration if you do go out.

And you’re not going to give in to fear.

You simply take different routes to your friends and family, have lunches at different restaurants than usual. He says you should get an armored car, but you don’t have a license. Of course your brooding bodyguard could drive, but what will you do with some armored tank after you're finally through this thing?

What's far more interesting is that it turns out this Simon Riley is a smoker.

Disgusting, you think at first, then think about him all sweaty and grimy after some gunfight, reaching for a cig, curling those thick fingers around a pure-white coffin nail. No, wait – he had gloves in that picture; he wouldn't bother to take them off before he smoked, he would just lean on his gun and on some crumbling wall and sigh from the joy of being alive, of being bloodied and dirty and victorious before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Ugh.

Reluctantly you agree that perhaps there is an odd charm to this man after all. Either that, or then you are in need of some serious therapy.

Breakfasts are torturingly quiet with Simon, and you can hear the slow roll of eyes every time you make plans to go to a party or an art gallery.

Once, a zipper gets stuck and you have to ask him for help. It’s mortifying, and he doesn’t say a word, only mocks you with his eyes as you turn around for him to place a warm hand on your hip and another on your back to pull up the zipper you had fought to reach and drag up by yourself for at least 10 minutes.

A week passes, and he’s buried in work, not only because he’s guarding your body 24/7, but because he’s trying to locate the hitman. The fact that Simon Riley is technically speaking a hitman too - to think that you have hired a killer - is something you don’t have the mental strength to delve into right now.

"Found the one who's hunting you."

Another file is dropped before you at the end of the week. The man marches into your office like there's no door there at all. Doesn't even bother to knock. 

This isn't what you meant when you politely told him to make himself home…

You roll the glass of water on your temple and sigh. The file reveals another photo, this time of a man who looks like an executioner.

"Goes by the name König," he says and clasps his hands over his crotch while taking a wide stance in front of your desk. "Austrian war criminal. Skilled with knives… Likes to torture people first."

Nice. More brutes.

"Why are you telling me this?" 

You're tired, there's a headache approaching, and you really don't care to go over some details about a professional lunatic killer right now. But Simon Riley - codenamed Ghost, you’ve lately learned - looks down at you like a storm cloud over a carefree meadow.

"Because you clearly don't understand the danger you're in." 

He adds "Ma'am" as a footnote. Purposely forgotten...

And you wish he would forget that silly, overly courteous term.

"Well–" you sigh your frustration in the air between you two, then realize that perhaps you're being treated like a child because you behave like one. "What are you going to do about this man...?"

"Gonna kill him," he simply shrugs, the eternal, distant look in those eyes gaining a smug tone to them. 

He enjoys this. Enjoys killing, but what's even worse, enjoys seeing how his ruthlessness makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Or perhaps he just likes shocking you with that file with an image of a lyncher in it. You know perfectly well that you're in trouble and under threat. That's what you've tried to forget, but no one lets you forget.

Simon takes a deep breath before placing his humble petition before you.

"Ma’am. I'm gonna need your help."

And nothing in this man is humble. Even though he rarely speaks and never shows his talents, not to talk of showing off, he reeks of pride and testosterone.

You set the glass on the table and straighten the file to align with the leather pad on your desk. Your fingers are not trembling. Yet.

"What do you mean?" 

He gives a hoarse laugh. The sound drills straight to your core and starts to bloom there. You realize you have never seen him smile before. And he's not smiling now: the short laugh is just a dark chuckle that mainly stays inside his chest; it only makes those stocky shoulders rise and fall.

"Not like that," he looks down at you with a tad of mercy. "You're gonna serve as bait."

"Isn't… that what I've been the whole time?"

"Yeah. But this time, we're gonna lure him in."

The way he talks makes your thighs rub together without your consent. You wonder what it would feel like if you were trapped between that solid chest and a wall, what it would be like if those hands woke you up with a calloused caress of a thigh.

You don't quite understand the difference between bait and a lure but find yourself willing to do whatever you can to help him. Help Simon…

"Sure... I'll help you," you say as if this man wasn't on your payroll.

"That's the least you could do."

That barely hidden bite in his dry retort doesn't escape you. This man's audacity buries whatever odd want you have started to feel for him and replaces it with searing, womanly fury. 

He could be a little more sensitive.

You're the one who has a target on their back. You're the one who fears going to sleep at night and feels lucky they're alive come dawn. If he wasn't so crude and uncaring, you would've asked him to sleep in the same room with you from the start. But he has to be a brute, has to follow and mock you with those ink blot eyes at every turn.

You rise from the chair when he turns and walks toward the door. It's almost a snappy jump, an attempt to reclaim your power. You're sore and thoroughly peeved.

"I never wanted this," you tell him with an annoying timbre in your tone. He stops right before the door but doesn't turn.

"Neither did I."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Could be somewhere warmer with no damsels giving me their cheek."

The BDU blouse you saw in that picture was yellow, burnt yellow. Desert wear… He wants to be in a hot desert with a cold gun in his hand. Dropped straight from some plane, working alone, in a place where damsels aren't giving him their cheek. Where there are no damsels at all. 

You're relatively sure there is no Mrs. Riley. No woman could stand this man.

"Then go somewhere warmer," you snap, almost stomp your heel on the soft carpet. This man is simply intolerable. The way he never reacts to anything makes you want to throw things at him. 

He must be trained to be so calm, but you're not. You're used to making men a little stupid and flustered. You're used to men eating out of your hand. He's not behaving at all like he's supposed to. Simon Riley is just a mountain without emotion.

He turns with that eternal, downgrading look in his eyes. There's a flash of amusement there, too.

Soddy bastard…

"Nah. Not until I've done my job."

His voice is warm now; the gruff and gravel make way to a smoothness that goes directly to your knees. Your lips part, and his eyes fall on your mouth just before he lifts his chin a hair of an inch.

"Your job…" you breathe, too furious to even rage or shout. 

Your fucking job.

Why did you even want this job if it's so–

"Yeah. My job. Some people got one."

You have to take support from the table with your fingertips. 

"Excuse me?"

There's the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth before he takes his leave.

"Good night, ma'am."

…......…......

The next day, you start the breakfast by apologizing. 

You barely slept that night, first because of this man's utter nerve, then because your wrath eventually cooled down into a bleeding consciousness of how you must look in his eyes. 

He has accepted this job, something different from what he usually does, for reasons unknown to you. He might not be on some faraway battlefield where bullets fly past, but this is no less risky. The picture he showed you, the file on König, haunted your restless sleep last night – when you finally did get some sleep. 

You have been running around like everything’s normal when it’s not. The man’s just trying to do his job. 

And you're the one who hired him. Not your lawyer.

"I want to make peace," you coo while spreading some jam on toast. You expect Simon to finally melt a little. You might even get a smile. You secretly hope your reward is that this brute turns into a tamed lap dog you can feed some treats every now and then. 

The situation is thrilling: the beefiest man you have ever seen is going to kill someone for you. Even if he's being paid to do so, he is prepared to die for you. There's something incredibly sexy about that.

But there is silence at the other end of the table. Only the crunchy sounds of toast getting sugar on top can be heard.

"That so?" 

He doesn't sound like he's melting. He doesn't sound at all domesticated. He only sounds more and more amused.

"Yes. I'm happy that you're here," you put the toast down and turn to look at him with angel eyes.

He laughs. When he stops, he looks you up and down, then laughs some more, a silent, shoulder-shaking chuckle.

"I'm… I'm serious," you hurry to add. "I mean it. I haven't been treating you the way I should–"

"That's for sure."

You see more warmth in those eyes. But it's not because of your humble apology.

His eyes are trekking down the neckline of your blouse, and to your horror, you notice – feel – how one of the top buttons has opened, revealing much more than just some skin. You're pretty sure he gets an ample view of the fuchsia bra you're wearing underneath.

If you reach for that button now, you underline that he's not supposed to look, even if it's your mistake that you're so obscenely exposed. If you close it now, you tell him he's not allowed to look. And that's not entirely true.

"Will you forgive me?"

You feel like you're offering peace, or at least a truce, with more than just that peepy question. Because your breasts swell inside that blouse. They rise and fall with your breaths, your nipples grow hard from that look that stays down a bit longer before drifting back up. 

"There's nothing to forgive," he says, voice dropping a note or two. 

"Good," you swallow. The following sentence comes out so weakly that it's almost a whisper. "After all, I hired you."

"Ain't that the truth."

The dim glint in those eyes still holds you as a prisoner, and his tea is growing cold.

"Are we going shopping today?"

"No," you utter, dreading the next inevitable question.

"What then?"

"I… I have a yoga class."

"Of course you do."

…......…......

Taglist: @cumikering

[dark-konohagakure2]

Sebastian and William t spears trying to one up each other using reader

tw: noncon, double penetration, overstimulation, degradation, competition, size difference

All characters depicted are 18+

William has a very strong distaste towards Sebastian and demons in general, one he will make well known, and while Sebastian isn't as verbal about it, the feeling is very mutual, in fact he'd want to wring the Reaper's neck if it wasn't for his young master's orders and William's death scythe. But even two bitter adversaries are allowed to have a bit of friendly competition.

At first William will scoff at the idea of engaging in such a frivolous game, especially with a demon, but Sebastian knows how to push people's buttons without letting his butler facade crack. Sebastian will tease William and taunt him for apparently being inexperienced in bed, and not wanting to be outdone by such a foul beast, he ends up caving.

It isn't easy for the demon butler to pick up a poor unsuspecting lady or servant girl with his good looks and charms, one who'd be naive enough to follow a stranger like him just because he's pretty, although he wouldn't pick anyone demonic, that would either turn William off completely or excite the reaper a bit too much at the prospect of dominating a member of a species he so despises.

Sebastian won't give up on his venomous taunts against William even when he's balls deep inside of the young woman's pussy alongside the reaper, delighting in his attempts to make the cold and professional man lose his unbreakable composure, at least slightly.

"Hmm~? Is something the matter, Mister Reaper~? If you keep going that slowly you'll never be able to make our little morsel cum, much less achieve climax yourself..."

William isn't going to allow himself to lose to a horrid demon of all things, even if it's at something as insignificant as bringing some helpless human girl to climax, his hips thrusting up in a mechanical movement as he fucks into her, his cock sliding lewdly against's Sebastian's inside of the tight and wet space they're sharing.

The sensation of getting fucked by two different yet very similar supernatural beings is too much for the poor girl, and it's a wonder that she can withstand the dual penetration without passing out from the overwhelming sensations coursing through her. Sebastian with tease her as much as his butler facade will allow, while William is almost completely silent the entire time, making a few low noises whenever he cums.

Sebastian isn't going to allow himself to be bested by William at something he himself is already very good at, he has more experience with human women, having slept with multiple of them for information or just for the pleasure of it on many different occasions, and being the suave demon he is, he knows exactly what filthy thing to whisper in her ear to make her weak in the knees.

William doesn't want to lose this little game either, while he isn't as rough, sadistic, or vocal as Sebastian, he's much more precise, having enough knowledge of the human body due to his line of work to hit all the right spots to leave her a writhing and whimpering mess between the two hellish creatures, that is until the barrage of sensations taking over her body becomes too much to bear.

"Humans are so pitifully feeble. I counted only five orgasms and you've already fallen unconscious, such pathetic endurance. Well, it seems as this has concluded in a draw, demon..."

They're both rather disappointed that they weren't able to reach a definitive conclusion on which one of them is superior in bed, but it's a minor setback, they aren't mortal beings like humans are, so they have all the time in the world to settle this petty little dispute they are having.

[biancadoes1]

FAVE ANON HERE 😏

It’s been a minute since I’ve submitted but after the vitriol I have seen on Twitter this weekend, I felt the need to speak…

First things first, all of us are brought here with one definitive common thread - we are all fans of Bridgerton. If we were not, we would probably not find ourselves in this fandom at all.

With that being said, if you’re on this blog you are probably a fan of both Nicola AND Luke. More than likely, you want them to be together romantically or believe they already are. And if you don’t want any of that, I don’t know why you’re here reading this posts. This is how you become a troll.

You are allowed to be a fan of one and not the other. This is not a dictatorship and no one is holding a gun to your heads. But this is the point where it is VITAL for me to remind you how many times Nic and Luke have a real love for each other and at the core are best friends. WHAT THIS MEANS IS you cannot call yourself a fan of one of them while simultaneously spreading hate and contempt and overall nastiness about the other one all over social media.

Now I have approached the topic of the RUMORED insignificant others. Did you know that there is no general rule of fandom that states if you are a fan of a character performer that you must also become a fan of any performers they may date now or in the future? WHAT THIS MEANS IS THAT no one is required to become Jake’s #1 fan just because the rumor mill wants to say Nic is dating him. Hell no one has to become his #1 fan if Nic herself came out and said she was dating him. Again, there is no need to speak with malice about his looks or his talent all over the internet but you do not have to be a fan. Same goes for the dancer who shall not be named (I know it’s a trigger for many around here). And if they act in deplorable ways - such as the dancer has displayed in the past - you are allowed to speak out on it while using decorum.

This is ultimately bringing me back to why I wrote this today. Tell me why I’m seeing tweets talking about how Jake is a more successful and more talented actor than Luke. Tweets saying Luke can’t act and how amazing Jake is. These tweets are from Bridgerton “fans”. These tweets are from Nicola “fans”. Based on everything I’ve written up until now, the math ain’t mathing on the word “fan”.

I’m not spreading hate to Jake. Fact of the matter, he’s a 24 year old kid almost fresh out of drama school. He has had one season of a failed show on a streaming network riddled with failed shows. He now has a small part in a movie that probably is not even recognized yet out of this fandom and extreme movie fans - if we’re being honest. Luke is 31 and is on his 4th season of one of Netflix’s top shows. He was the male lead last season and the season broke records. He was on a Disney channel show when he was younger. He was on multiple stage shows on the West End. He’s had many other roles in smaller projects and just picked up a lead role in a new film. While it is considered an independent film, it is a LEAD role.

With that evidence laid out, how can anyone actually say with their full chest that Jake is the better and more successful actor? Oh right they can’t. What it comes down to is the fact that the “Jakola shipping” movement is not based on anything more than being an Anti-Luke Newton movement and it is GROSS. No matter what they tell you, there was no “relationship” being universally talked about prior to late summer. On August 25 those festival pictures were released and some very twisted narcissistic people in this fandom took them and ran with them. They created a narrative to help dictate what and who people in this fandom are allowed to discuss online. They’ve bullied creators off of TikTok and Twitter and gaslight the hell out of everyone when called on it. A 24 year old gay man (OMG I SAID IT) is being bullied on the internet and the blame is fully being put on “Lukolas” when the truth is that no one would be paying any attention to him if this narrative wasn’t perpetuated in the first place. (Side note: if you’re sending hate to Jake on behalf of being a Lukola, please stop. Please treat him like you treat every other one of Nic’s male friends. No one should be getting hate.)

The majority of the hate and toxicity in this fandom stems with the Jakolas Jackholes and those who blindly follow and defend a certain creator. I’m not going to say her name because I know how much she gets off on people talking about her (even when it’s bad) AHAH. This is the shit that everyone else is afraid to say out loud but it’s true. And for those of you in that discord reading this to report back, hiiii!

Oh and if anyone has a problem with this and wants to call me out for being on Anon, let me know and I’ll DM you because I’m not afraid. I’m grownup.

Xx

Finally seeing people with common sense!

My fave anon pulls through yet again.

Everyone say thank you fave anon.

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 12)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

(LISTEN… this story has gotten out of control and I need help.)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“It’s alright, child.” Sera’s moods swung round like a revolving door. She could change and bend from someone motherly to a raging Force to an uninvolved observer in a millisecond. “You don’t know any better.”

She reach out and placed a hand on your cheek, perfectly warm and loving in her caress while her eyes remained like flint against the loveliest of features. “Everything has come to pass as it should. You’ll understand in time.” 

It made you sick. Your skin grew clammy as an acidic substance shot up your esophagus and your whole body pitched backward to escape.

You would’ve taken hours locked away with that asshole Adam before you stood another minute being condescended to by the Seraphim.

You were sulking, and you knew it, but you couldn’t stop. 

The building that you had been taken into to meet Sera in the first place served as some sort of Capital. It was grandiose and reached so high up that you couldn’t see where the damn ceiling ended. Perhaps it didn’t. 

You had to take great pains to escape it, navigating among high-ranking angels of all kinds filtering from both the ground and air above you in orderly chaos. It quickened your step to notice that a number of them did a double-take at seeing you. 

           They resembled different things, just as the angels outside did, although most of them appeared human-like. You wondered briefly if there was a rhyme or reason to it, or if God chose to make the woman you barely avoided running into resemble a moose because it made Him laugh. 

Once you’d escaped the war room, you had immediately breathed a little easier. Still, you continued on until you physically felt the tiny shocks and electric currents of warning ebb from your skin. It was as if Sera’s essence had stuck to you, her presence clinging to your frame to make a longer impression.

It had your skin tightening, muscles clenching as a chaotic flood of anxiety and fear prevented you from walking solidly. Too many ‘what if’s’ took you in and out of awareness, making you stumble over nothing. 

It had crossed your mind that Emily did not appear before you’d made yourself scarce. A part of you had wondered at that, feeling as though she’d have waited for you out of some concern for your wellbeing. 

Perhaps that was all for show, however. Sera was clearly excellent at appearing benevolent, and Emily had looked toward the Seraphim for guidance in front of you. It stood to reason that Emily could also be two-faced. 

The logic was sound and yet it made you wince, whether from shame at your incorrect judge or character —

‘Or how much she reminds me of Lucifer.’

You imagined Emily looking at you while stripped of any warmth and compassion. She quickly changed, morphing into Lucifer with hollow, unfeeling red eyes. 

It hurt.

—

Panic had you frozen in place a time or two before you’d gained a wide enough berth to stop. 

Beforehand you’d walked clouds so polished and flat you’d swear they were glass, amidst the more general population of Heaven with your arms wrapped around yourself. It felt needed when even those outside the Capital looked at you with interest, as if they knew. 

Maybe they did. Was it against the rules to keep secrets in Heaven? 

“We are literally judges, juries and executioners in Hell.”

“Executioners?” 

“What’re you talking about?” 

The recollection of a seemingly insignificant moment drew you to a halt. You stared at the pristine ground, fists knocking at your sides. The confusion on your face doubled when you looked up. 

Your ‘wide berth’ had led you far away from the crowds of perfectly content angels and their sleek, futuristic buildings. Farther than you’d anticipated, as ahead of you lay a line of trees that thickened into a dense forest. 

Like Earth, Heaven had a variety of terrains — or so it would seem. Child-like curiosity had you crossing the line between airy openness and into the thicket of pines. All varieties of fir, pine, and larch coexisted with one another, bowing and swaying in the wind. There was nothing to be afraid of, but a sense of oddity hung in the air as you walked a perfectly sculpted path. 

The smell of damp earth and lilies rose from the ground at your feet. A warm breeze rustled the hair that hung limply around your face. Birds sung merrily above you, flitting from branch to branch. 

It occurred to you that no matter how deep you traveled into the woods, the sunlight never waned. 

And yet faintly you heard roaring. It was distant but growing louder with every step you took. 

It was not an animal nor man calling out to you from far away. You felt the change as the smell of sap intermingled with that of salt on the wind, and the floor turned from nettles and moss to pale sand. 

You rubbed your eyes as the trees parted and seemed to disappear as they revealed a beautiful, sparkling sea. 

Sun cast off the surface of the ocean, bouncing against a kaleidoscope of multicolored clouds surrounding it. And you had Dejá vu before blinking away the flash of purple and honey in your eyes. 

You watched tiny waves as they fell against the shoreline, seafoam disappearing within moments. It continued, mesmerizing you, as you ambled toward it. When the water finally rushed over your feet, it carried tiny seashells that scuttled around you. And unlike the ocean you were familiar with, this one was a perfect temperature, no acclimation required. 

For the first time since arriving in Heaven, you felt yourself smiling genuinely. 

You gave into the urge to squish the wet sand between your toes and waded into the water up to your ankles. Your worries began to wash away with each pull of the tide, slow and steady. 

Eventually, you meandered away from that singular spot and began to trek parallel to the shore. The sun never got in your eyes nor did the sand get whipped up and blow into your mouth. Everything from the waves to the breeze was gentle. 

As were the eyes that were upon you. 

As soon as you felt that stare, you stopped in your tracks. Just the thought of turning to them was daunting. 

You don’t have to look, but you do. 

There’s a woman with you now, with hair so long and blonde it’s almost white. Her chin, lips, nose, and eyes are delicate and soft.

—

Eve had lingered upon your every step once you’d arrived in her neck of the woods. 

She was glad to see that the effects of the beach it hid were enough to soothe you, even if it was more of a distraction than a cure. You deserved something good, even if it was relatively meager compared to everything you’d endured up to this point. 

Your figure grew smaller as you crossed the sand, away from the first woman’s hiding spot. You were none the wiser, engrossed in the soothing give and take of the water. It made it easier for Eve to creep up the beach only a few paces away, free to follow your path without ruining your tranquility. 

It reminded Eve of a simpler time when she was the one being eyed curiously from afar. 

*** Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee, @aquaamythest96, @0strawberrysorbet0, @fluffy-koalala, @washeduphazbin, @rebecca-hvnstn, @velvette3, @kermitdafroggy, @wpdarlingpan, @apatcheworkofproblems, @cherry-cola-100, @pink-apples001, @al-of-the-stars, @backinthefkingbuildingagain, @martinys-world, @alastorssimp, @wobblesthewaffle, @shikiribee, @undertale-anomaly20, @asakura-fangirl-stuff, @ringsofpersonti, @angelicwillows, @wingoodlilboymyway, @cimadreamer, @museofzealoushope, @oneiric-rotaerc, @call-me-nyxx, @darling-angel222, @elementwind91, @bloody-delusion-expert, @martinys-world, @devilslittlebabyxx

Forgive me if I forgot to tag you or the tags don’t work, I don’t know what that keeps happening.

[magicspeedwagon7]

a lot of analysis of "Saltburn" that i see on the internet focus on the text/subtext and maybe the symbolism but i'd like to focus on how messages can be conveyed by the visual elements of the film.

after your first viewing of the film, you've probably asked yourself a lot of questions, including: did Ollie genuinely like Felix (and all his plans derailed dramatically) ? or was Felix a mean to an end from the beginning (and Ollie's mistaken his obsession with Felix, more precisely what he represents (i.e. coolness, wealth, injustice etc) for genuine affection) ?

first and foremost, let's talk about the ratio used all throughout the film which is 1.33:1. so not a perfect square - that would be 1:1 - but here's a screenshot of my computer while i was playing the film on my media player so you can see the biiiig black stripes to the left and right.

such a square-ish ratio - especially compared to larger ratios, the hollywood standard being 1.85:1 - allows paying attention to the characters instead of the background in wide shots or floor shots and offers 'intimate' close-ups because little to no background is to be see as you get closer to the characters. the main drawback and that we cannot capture imposing backgrounds with it. it just doesn't fit.

the scene where Felix shows Ollie around the house illustrates perfectly the paradoxes of the film. Saltburn is central to the film and yet just a background.

the camera never moves away from Felix, not even when Ollie looks left and right. to add insult to injury, the narrow frame prevents us from looking at anything else even if we wanted to.

"some fucking hideous Rubens" said Felix. Rubens that...we will never see. same for the maze Felix will die in: we'll see it later.

of course, the previous scene depicted Ollie as insignificant compared to the castle but i think this scene is here to establish Duncan as the gatekeeper of the castle in a very literal sense. as if the gates of the castle had taken on a human form in the form of Duncan.

but the moment Felix comes in, all eyes on him.

for me, the message is clear: before the death of Felix, we don't care about the castle . there's not even a single room of that castle that you could describe extensively. do you know what Ollie's and Felix's rooms look like? and the dressing room? etc. Ollie was genuinely obsessed with Felix and he had to improvise when he died that aspect of him is not part of any scheme. in contrary i think the moments when Ollie's sexually excited by Felix (cf bathtub scene, grave scene) are Ollie's rare moments of vulnerability when his real personality slips through. he cold-bloodedly killed all the members of the Catton family except Felix he genuinely cried for.

that's why i do not subscribe to the view that every single thing Ollie does is part of a scheme from the get-go. sometimes, Ollie improvises and his obsession for Felix is not a mean to an end.

[hestzhyen]

Sunken Ships and SoRiku

Hi internet void. I went feral and maybe you'll read the result.

KH has made a lot of choices around SoRiku from a narrative perspective that, in isolation, wouldn't amount to much. A heart-to-heart here, a questionable line there, and so on. The usual things that one would do to court a queer shipping audience in an otherwise het or unromantic work. And SoRiku circles have painstakingly documented every instance to show something that looks more like a consistent and intentional effort rather than a few dollops here and there to keep shippers engaged. There's... a lot. But one stupid, insignificant thing really shook me up and made me a believer in SoRiku Endgame, Actually.

Silly as it is, it's Nomura's reaction to people shipping RikuNami that gets me the most.

Generally speaking a writer doesn't want to interact with fandom shipping unless it's to urgently course correct. As in it would be catastrophic to the narrative if the fandom had the wrong idea. Otherwise it's best to just take note of how people are interpreting things and adjust the next installment accordingly, or live and let live. Keep distant and don't risk accusations of retconning/bad writing/queerbaiting in bad faith. So the normal reaction from Nomura seeing people get excited over RikuNami would have been to just do nothing. But instead, the scene was patched to downplay the smile, and Nomura went on the record to clarify that it's not a setup for a romantic relationship between Riku and Namine.

That's insane.

Why is it so important that Riku remain romantically uninterested in a girl he'd have a natural connection to, huh? What about accidentally implying RikuNami was so detrimental to the story that it was changed and explicitly addressed like that? Even if it wasn't meant to be, surely letting it play out like AkuRoku did would be enough. Just gently clarify and move on with the story (which pretty much sunk the ship on it's own anyway). You don't wade into fandom shipping and launch nuclear warheads like Nomura did against RikuNami unless you want to leave no room for doubt.

Torpedoing RikuNami also doesn't help them keep up appearances in terms of straightness at this point. Leaving it intact would only help the case of Riku and Sora being bffs with the strongest bond 5ever- a huge boon for the writing team if they wanted to avoid things looking too gay. Nomura et. al. are absolutely aware of the impressions and jokes about how gay KH is. And KH definitely would not be the first series to play in to queer ship teasing for the lols until it's time to pair everyone up at the end.

But they did the one thing you're not supposed to do if you're just aiming to queerbait: undermining the plausible straight ship. You don't eliminate the only straight option for your character like that for the sake of "he so gay" jokes! Having a straight option available is vital to make the bait; they don't have to be compelling or important to the story, they just have to exist. Yet at this point, Riku's only option is Sora. They went out of their way to ensure we wouldn't think anything else makes sense for him.

Holy. Shit.

[rainbow-crane]

In-Depth Analysis On All The DR Characters Because What, Are You Gonna Try And Stop Me? Who Are You, My Mom? Yeah, I Didn't Think So- Part 2: Mondo Owada

So yeah, I decided to do Mondo's next. After all the material I ended up inadvertently collecting for him in my Taka analysis, it just made more sense to go ahead and get him out of the way, even if I'd rather go for my personal favorite characters first.

As noted previously, this analysis will only be using canon material. It'll primarily focus on the game and its english translation since that's what I'm most familiar with, but may also pull from the original Japanese, as well as the animation, stageplay, etc. If you aren't interested, just keep scrolling. Mondo fans, prepare some popcorn, and perhaps a tissue box since if you're anything like the Taka fans you may end up crying. You're welcome.

Part 1- Character Design

Mondo Owada is a delinquent character whose design pays homage to manga series Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable, and is modeled after its protagonist, Josuke Hikashigata. Mondo sports a massive pompadour and a modified uniform that mimics Josuke's, and is the leader of a biker gang called the Crazy Diamonds, a direct reference to Josuke's Stand, Crazy Diamond.

Due to leading this biker gang, he was given the title of SHSL Gang Leader, or Ultimate Biker Gang Leader.

Part 2- Character Introduction

Most of Mondo's character introduction isn't actually from himself, but from the researching Makoto did prior to entering the school in-game. We know immediately that he's leader of the largest biker gang in Japan, and get a look into his public image via Makoto. Despite the fact that Mondo is being fairly chill with his greeting, Makoto remains terrified of him based off of reputation alone- "I'd better be careful around him. One wrong word and I could wake up at the bottom of the sea..."

However, we can quickly see that this reputation is built mainly on bravado, as when Monokuma first calls for the entrance ceremony, we can see Mondo begin to sweat, despite his claiming otherwise- "Well hell, it ain't like I'm scared or nothin'. Let's just get this over with!"

He continues to sweat throughout Monokuma's explanation of the communal life, attempting to cover it up by yelling at the bear to let them out. We get a brief look at his more protective nature, as he purposefully puts himself between Hiro and Monokuma in order to confront him. We also quickly learn just how easily provoked he is.

Despite this provocation, he's not completely swept up in his rage, as he's able to listen to Kyoko's warning of the bomb and follows her advice- to throw it away- without hesitation. So our first real impression of him is that he's a short-tempered and intimidating- but well-intentioned- protector of sorts. He's not completely brainless; he's considerate of his classmates and their safety even when putting himself at risk.

Part 3- Early Game Development

Mondo is an interesting case, as he's a character that almost immediately looks directly into the camera and tells the player directly what their main motivation is. The only other character in this series that's as transparent about their goals so early in is Sayaka, and even then the game makes you ask for that information.

He tells us, in no uncertain terms, that keeping promises is the #1 most important thing to him. He also tells us indirectly how highly he values his family and personal connections, holding his brother's word as law. These combined with his talent being that of a gang leader all suggest a pack leader mentality, which is immediately confirmed by his anger at Byakuya for trying to separate from the group- "Like hell I'm gonna let you run off and do whatever you want!"

Not only is this loss of control upsetting to him, but he's then immediately provoked and called insignificant by Byakuya, leading him to lash out at the closest person in an attempt to regain that hold of power- which just so happens to be Makoto. Not only is this response irrational and violent, but it knocks out Makoto for 10-11 hours. Mondo is a leader, yes, but he's a gang leader, and his bite does match his bark.

Mondo's aggressive and fairly single-minded nature is made apparent when he continuously tries to break down the hatch in the main hall. Not only does he attempt to bust it open with Sakura on the first day, but he then returns to the hatch with Leon the following day, despite the fact he already admitted there was probably no way to open it from inside, and continues to check into the following chapter. He sees one possible way out, and zeroes in on it, just in case.

The game continues to double down on the irrational, defensive aspects of his character when Monokuma appears again to present the first motive. He again confronts Monokuma directly- pretending as if he knows who's piloting the bear for a fact("We know who you are!")- and attempting to intimidate him into letting them go. Once again, this demonstrates both his desire to protect himself and his classmates, and his unwavering confidence in the intelligence of said classmates, as Chihiro was the one to suggest the mastermind being Genocide Jack based only off her gut feeling. He then proceeds to immediately turn around and make Makoto be the one to go find the motive instead of going himself, getting extremely angry when Makoto doesn't instantly do as he's told- "Hey... Hey hey hey hey hey... HEEEEEY!!! You see how passionately I'm begging you!? What's the big deal? Just check it out real quick!"

He then calms down the second Makoto agrees.

It creates a sort of duality with his character between his more protective nature and his need to exert control, something the game makes a point to call out.

Part 4- Relationships

Mondo develops a fair number of relationships across his time in the game, to varying levels of importance- some antagonistic, some exceedingly complex. We'll go from least to most important to the overarching story.

4.1- Celeste

Celeste and Mondo are written in directly opposing ways, as while they're both fairly short-tempered, Celeste is much better at hiding it. It's by this logic that throughout the early game, oftentimes when Mondo starts to get riled up by the rules of the school and/or their circumstances, it's Celeste who ends up deescalating before he can explode, maintaining a facade of calm where he can't.

4.2- Sakuraoi

While not very touched upon, Mondo does end up developing a mutual respect for Sakura and Hina. When the class splits up to investigate the school on the first day, he joins the two of them in trying to find a way to get back to the outside, and he and Sakura work together to try and bust open the hatch in the main hall.

Hina's the one that stops Mondo from attacking Byakuya in the library, and when Chihiro begins to cry over Mondo saying that 'women are naturally weak anyway', it's Hina who calls him out for 'screaming like a lunatic.'

His relationship with Taka is also directly contrasted to Sakura's with Hina by Sakura herself- "Friendship between men seems very simplistic. Nothing like what I'm used to with girls." "Yeah, for real..." It's an interesting comparison, considering both Sakura and Mondo end up dying and leaving the responsibility of failure on Hina and Taka.

4.3- Byakuya

Byakuya antagonizes Mondo more than once, first as they're splitting up to search the school, and again after the library opens. Both times he seems to take enjoyment from it, calling him unimportant more than once and refusing to even entertain the idea that he might die.

"So miniscule, so insignificant, they couldn't possibly have any kind of influence on the boundless ocean."

"You know, I still just can't believe it..." "Believe what?" "That an uneducated, brain-dead, useless piece of garbage like you has survived this long."

"You all need to try harder. If an opponent isn't going to give it their best, where's the fun for me?"

It's enough of a threat for Mondo to genuinely believe that he's dangerous and want to keep him bound so he can't attack (foreshadowing when Byakuya himself would go one to tie Chihiro up? Probably not but it's a neat connection)

He also goes on to fuck with Chihiro, both by mocking her fear and by purposefully tampering with (what he believed to be) the crime scene of her death. On both counts, this directly affects Mondo, calling him out for his bullying("Hey, shithead! You get off on bullying people that can't fight back?") and letting Byakuya pin the crime of killing Chihiro on himself in the trial.

However, despite all this, Mondo never gets the chance to give Byakuya his comeuppance for his words and actions.

4.4- Ishimondo (yeah these bitches gay)

Similarly to Byakuya, Taka starts in a more antagonistic position, directly opposing Mondo as the unofficial, self-designated 'leader' of the class and remaining insensitive to the feelings of his classmates.

Unlike Byakuya, there's no actual intent to harm here, and their banter remains more focused on their differing ideas on how to help their classmates than anything else. Still, as time continues to pass, Mondo's impatience combined with the recent losses from ch 1 starts to push him over the edge, getting angrier with the class's lack of urgency.

This impatience only leads him to butt heads with Taka more, who's trying to keep the class together and safe first and foremost. On top of that, Mondo's delinquency is directly opposed to Taka's disciplinary background, making it all too easy to see each other as foes. Despite the fact they consider themselves the better type of man to the other, they have similar views on how men are to face each other, leading to the sauna scene.

Both characters' strong-willed determination and stubbornness inadvertently puts them on the same path, attempting to use their physical abilities to prove himself a more worthy leader than the other. It's a simplistic way of deciding, but it's one they both wholeheartedly believe in, and this gives them the opportunity to connect with each other in a way they're unable to with anyone else in the class. Thus, the following morning, when asked about the contest, the two have formed an inseparable brotherhood and refuse to even acknowledge the contest, as having a winner would put them on different levels. Interestingly, Mondo shares the belief with Taka that men bond by being naked around each other("Guys gotta expose themselves to each other, ya know?"), suggesting that he removed his clothes in order for this 'brotherhood' to form.

4.5- Daiya

The first thing we learn about Mondo's older brother in-game is that he was the one who taught Mondo to always keep his promises, no matter the cost. The second thing we learn is that he fucking died. And until nearly the end of Mondo's run in the game, that's all we as an audience need to know. He had an older brother that taught him his core values and passed away, leaving Mondo to carry out his wishes. It's not until after the chapter 2 trial is said and done that we learn anything more about him through Mondo's secret: "That embarrassing memory, that secret he didn't want anyone to know... You know what he did? He killed his own brother!"

It's through Monokuma that we learn the truth of Mondo's history with his brother: Daiya was his only family growing up, and thus, became his role model, the man Mondo himself wanted to become. He respected Daiya and Daiya alone. He followed him everywhere, and together, they formed the Crazy Diamonds, which went from a local biker gang to one of the greatest in Japan. It was through his brother that he developed his biking talent, and acted as his right hand. But some of the gang didn't believe in Mondo or trust him the way Daiya did. As Daiya grew older and prepared to retire, rumors of nepotism circulated throughout the gang, saying that Mondo was nothing compared to Daiya, that he wasn't worthy to take over the gang.

"Daiya created the gang with his bare hands! Mondo's just along for the ride." "Can someone like that be our leader?" "All that'll do is make the gang look bad."

Any accomplishments Mondo had made within the gang didn't count to the gang, or to Mondo himself, because they were put next to the leader's achievements. He compared himself to Daiya as well, feeding into the rumors and developing a deep-rooted jealousy. He felt like he had to be the stronger man, had to prove himself to the gang, had to best his brother or he wouldn't be accepted. So he challenged him. He challenged Daiya, and lost all restraint on the road, charging forward with the desperation of a dead man. And it cost him his brother's life.

His brother made him promise not to let the gang go as he passed; Mondo became shackled by his honor to stay. He fully believes it was his fault Daiya died, and now not only is he indebted to stay with the gang, but can never admit blame for fear of tarnishing not only his own reputation, but tearing his brother's gang apart. His community demands unwavering macho leadership, and he can't afford to break character for even a second.

4.6- Chihiro (will be using mostly he/him due to discussing canon)

Mondo and Chihiro exist on 2 sides of the same coin- toxic masculinity. Both characters (canonically speaking here) are men, but are perceived totally differently, both by those around them and by themselves. And because of this design, when put into the high-stress scenario that they were, they were doomed to drive each other to ruin.

Even before chapter 2 starts, there are multiple instances of Mondo listening to Chihiro and respecting his words without doubt(his theory of Genocide Jack and asking his opinion on '11037'). We've also seen Mondo's confrontational and protective nature in action. So it's no surprise at all when he stands up to Byakuya on Chihiro's behalf when he clams up. And while this is done with good intentions, it only serves to make Chihiro feel weaker. Mondo is physically stronger- anyone can see that- and he's not afraid to mouth off to someone showing excitement at the killing game they were all forced into. So when asked if he's okay the following morning, he can't help but explain himself- he feels weak, and doesn't like having someone else stand up for him. For Mondo, this goes directly against his idea of strength, and can't comprehend why "she'd" possibly care.

With all of Mondo's toughness, he carries not just the expectations of a man, but the misogynist beliefs that often come with it. But regardless of that, he's immediately able to tell he fucked up("Hey, c'mon, don't cry... I-It's my fault, okay? I won't yell anymore...") as far as the narrative will allow him due to writer's bias*. He feels bad about this, genuinely, enough to offer Chihiro his promise as a man. It's enough of a gesture for Chihiro to trust him completely, believing in the man's promise he's emphasized as being the most important thing to him since the very beginning.

(*Writer's bias in this case means the author is also sexist to a degree. Mondo is very clearly meant to be a tough guy with good intentions but because the creator appears to agree with the sentiment that women are weaker on average, we as an audience are meant to take issue with the fact that he's yelling and not the sexist statement. Said bias is made pretty clear by the fact their 'weak boy' character is dressed like a woman to emphasize his weakness and be a 'gotcha', as well as the fact they later have Kyoko force Makoto to tear paper out of Hifumi's rigor mortis hand because Makoto's a boy and she's a girl, even though earlier in that same game she, still a girl, was allowed to examine Chihiro's corpse in enough detail to find her dick. Writer's biases can and does affect the final product, so it's always important to consider that when looking at a character's development to determine whether they're being shitty because they're supposed to be or if it's some fault with the creator themself inputting their biases into something that otherwise wouldn't develop in this way. This has been Critical Consumption of Media 101.)

When Chihiro's found dead, Mondo keeps his head hung, lamenting about the fact that Chihiro wanted to be stronger, and when Makoto points out Chihiro was a woman anyway, Mondo just dismisses it, contradicting his earlier statement.

He respects Chihiro's memory and refuses to speak poorly of him. And while at first glance this is all it appears to be, as the trial unfolds and we learn the truth about what happened to Chihiro, a dual meaning behind this reveals itself- another showcasing of his devotion to the promises he keeps and the desire to protect his friend, even in death.

Chihiro is physically weak; a strong wind could probably knock him over, and he's much more in-tune with his emotions than your average guy. He mourns the losses of Sayaka, "Junko", and Leon all deeply, and has a deep shame for not being able to defend himself against Byakuya. But despite all this, when tested by Monokuma's secrets motive, he doesn't crumble away. He thrives, taking that threat and turning it into motivation to push his limits. He has the self-awareness to know when to ask for help, and isn't swayed by the threat of death. He's physically weak, but is incredibly strong mentally and is able to conquer his fears and face the lie he created for himself. Unfortunately for him, living with this toxic idea of what masculinity is supposed to look like makes him believe the way to do this can only be found in becoming physically stronger, and dies without ever seeing the strength he already had.

Mondo, on the inverse, is extremely physically capable, even without trying. He's 187 cm of muscle, and is confrontational to a fault, only giving him more opportunities to show off that physical strength. But on the inside, he can't face the sins of his past, can't admit his faults, and can't comprehend how to make peace with himself. All this is exacerbated by the weight he carries of leading the gang his brother formed, unable to release that weight from his conscience.

"N-No matter what... I couldn't let the other gang members find out. If that happened, everything would've been ruined... Everything me and my brother worked to create... woulda been destroyed... His death... all the guilt I'd been carrying around... it all woulda been for nothing."

And when Monokuma tests his resolve, he completely crumbles. Unable to admit the truth to himself, he's faced with Chihiro, someone who has the mental capability he could only dream of. That primal fear of breaking the promise he made for his brother on his deathbed, combined with Chihiro's unwavering confidence as he happily chimes how unbothered Mondo must be, blocks out all rationale. He spirals, forgetting where he is and who he's talking to, trying to make the panic go away as he throws the dumbbell in his hand.

Chihiro and Mondo each have everything the other wants, and drive each other to death trying to get it.

Part 5- Chihiro's Trial

For most of the trial, Mondo doesn't appear suspicious at all. So much time is spent on Byakuya's suspicious behavior and his framing of Genocide Jack that you barely notice him. He fully appears to be trying to find Chihiro's killer and find justice for her, following Makoto's line of reasoning to find Byakuya as the killer- with the body's suspension and the subtle differences between Jack's methods of killing and the murder of Chihiro herself. He's all too eager to declare Byakuya as the killer- and though we can't know for sure, he may have genuinely believed it. After all, walking into the girls' locker room to find her body suspended and the message of 'Bloodlust' written on the walls certainly wasn't his doing. Unfortunately for him, that's all Byakuya did, and the conversation continues.

In the end, Mondo brings about his own execution. Even after slipping up with his words, the conversation is able to continue on, sfifting focus over to Chihiro's missing E-Handbook and what exactly happened to it. And when Mondo becomes cornered with Makoto's mention of the sauna, it's not Mondo who goes on the defensive; it's Taka. Mondo gives up; he lets his tough-guy persona go. He finally faces the truth; he's undoubtedly the one that ended Chihiro's life, no matter how he may have wanted to delude himself otherwise. He sees his bro defending him, and he accepts that he has to die. It's not beyond reason to say that Taka's insistence of his innocence was what pushed him to truly admit his guilt, both to the class and to himself. Up until this point, he'd still been trying to play it off and get away with it. But was it worth it to live and kill his bro, and everyone else, just to protect his pride? No. He admits to being the killer, straight up.

"Yeah. Yeah... I did it... I killed him."

"Go ahead, Monokuma. Get it over with... Ask for the goddamned verdict..."

Part 6- The Cage of Death

The first person that comments with some variation of OH MY GOD YOU'RE SO EVIL HOW COULD YOU PUT THE EXECUTION IN THIS gets a cookie. Anyways, the executions in these games are always thematic to the characters and are meant to send them into the worst possible despair in their final moments, so let's break this down.

The execution begins with Mondo forcefully strapped to his motorcycle by Monokuma, who's sporting the same pompadour as him. This may be representative of Mondo feeling confined to the biker gang by his guilt; he was never able to break free of the lie he created about that night. The pompadour is likely just Monokuma making fun of him for his hair again, as the thing that nearly killed him in the prologue.

The kanji written on the motorcycle reads 'Little Black Sambo,' a reference to a children's story of the same title. The entire execution is an inverse of this story as well. In the story, a boy named Sambo is surrounded by four hungry tigers, and gives up his clothes to avoid being eaten. The tigers are all conceited and argue over who's the best-dressed, chasing each other in circles until they churn themselves into butter. Sambo is then able to recollect his clothes and the butter, and his mother uses the butter to make pancakes. This story is well-known and beloved in Japan, but isn't in basically the entire rest of the world on account of the racist caricatures of the POC present in it.

Mondo's execution is a inversed version of the story(and also, because Mondo isn't blasian there's thankfully no directly racist art in it, just tigers). Rather than being the one to trick the tigers, he's the one who's full of pride, and so he's sent into a motorcycle cage and left to spin around and around, while the tigers dance on either side of him. He ends up being the one who's turned into butter, and Monokuma gets to enjoy a delicious plate of Mondocakes. It's meant to represent the downfall of Mondo's macho personality and how he sent himself into a spiral, but loses a lot of its meaning if you aren't familiar with the story.

Part 7- Jealousy

So, we've torn this character apart. We know what makes him tick, but why does that all matter? What was the point of his story? Simple- it's a cautionary tale. It's a warning against everything he stands for. Mondo, through all his faults, is NOT someone you're actually supposed to idealize or hold up as the epitome of manhood in the way that Chihiro does. Rather, he's a deconstruction of everything society views as 'manly', and a demonstration of why that line of thinking is inherently flawed. He's big and tough, he yells and cusses at the people around him, he doesn't have a handle on his own strength. He knocks a dude out for like, 10 hours straight because he was mad at someone else!!! That's not a healthy way to get your frustration out!!!

Simply put, your image and pride are not worth your mental health, and comparing yourself to the people around you not only tortures yourself, but can hurt those who you love. Mondo couldn't stop comparing his own faults to the strengths of others, and ended up pushing himself too hard trying to prove himself. Not only did he lose his brother over it, but he felt like he had to keep all his pain and regret locked up for the sake of an image they'd painted together. It pushed him up to the edge, and he never learned to cope with it in a way that was healthy. It only led to him lashing out more and more, and repeating history when he killed Chihiro. Your trauma can't be fixed by ignoring it or shoving it down; seek out help when you need it. It's okay to confide in your friends; they aren't your enemy, and they aren't making fun of you. That line of thinking will only push you over the edge.

Afterword

So yeah, this was longer than anticipated. Even after doing Taka's and creating a point of reference for myself, I still ended up surprised. I mean, Taka survived longer, so you'd think his would be longer, right? But no, Mondo is not only a very well-established character, but he has more important connections and a much more impactful storyline. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say Mondo may be one of the easiest characters to understand from THH, considering how in-your-face they make him. And I respect that, even if his whole facade can be kind of annoying for me. I totally see why this guy is so popular among fans. Happy birthday Mondo!

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this one, and be sure to stick around! Sayaka's analysis is coming up next, and holy shit am I excited for this one.

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #26

History hates Lovers

Imagine dis…

When Batman got lost in time it was said that he made some signs or even some symbols that send a message in the future. For example, a portrait that looked exactly like him or even a cave painting of a bat that looked too modernized to be from the early cavemen.

But it seems that we have forgotten that every change that he made whether it was just standing in a portrait as a background has a severe consequence in the time stream. The butterfly effect rests on the notion that the world is deeply interconnected, such that one small occurrence can influence a much larger complex system. The effect is named after an allegory for chaos theory; it evokes the idea that a small butterfly flapping its wings could, hypothetically, cause a typhoon.

Small changes could result in another and entirely new timeline, whether the changes were small enough that people don’t notice or large enough that people merely conceived it as normal.

But at the end of the day it still changes, so how did the timeline remain stable as it is?

(I am no expert in time travel so don’t get your hopes up, I do enjoy a good time travel or time travel -fix it fic in A03)

…

Bruce didn’t know where and when he is right now. Still weak and disoriented from the consent way he fell from each timeline. One moment he could be in the middle of a group of cavemen and then he was at the edge of a town in the Middle Ages. 

He kept sending messages subtle as they may be, as long as they survived the passage of time and arrived to his future. He just hopes that his teammates can see his messages, especially with the flash in their midst who had both knowledge and experience in time travel.

He tried to fit in every time he tried to send a message as the last thing, he needed was to change the time. 

…

But little did Bruce know the little messages he kept making and sending, despite their subtleness still created a butterfly effect. It makes some of the people in the period who were supposed to be in time to some event pause and take a look at the mysterious symbols and signs that Bruce made. Thus, making them late or even have some delay, thus creating a large domino effect that started small. From insignificant people, people who are just literally background characters who just have a very short greeting or meeting with someone in the event made the entire timeline crack.

Clockwork was looking at the time stream due to the fragile situation at hand. CW knew that this event was crucial for the Red Robin’s growth as a detective and vigilante. But the small cracks are turning into something unchangeable, CW knew that this was the only communication that the Dark Knight could send as well it was his way to get back to his own time.

Yet CW can see the cracks getting larger and larger, with each move that the Dark Knight made creating more holes in his known future. Usually, such events as the Dark Knight's faces don’t create any consequences or even affect the time stream of the said dimension as it was meant to be. An event unavertable in the end is more justifiable than the means.

But due to the Flash family going back in time as well the countless time traveler visitors made the time stream in that dimension week and prone to break in any given time. It was just a surprise to CW that it lasted so long.

CW found a solution in the form of his apprentice/ grandson, Phantom. Despite the young ghost being an Ancient of Space as well as the King of Infinite Realms he still needs a mentor to not only guide him to his new duties as an Ancient but also his responsibilities as the future High King.

Space and Time are two sides of the same coin thus CW ended up being the mentor of the young Phantom. 

Clockwork sent Danny to not only seal in the cracks in the flow of time but also want some great-grandchildren, if you heard the last part then you heard nothing from me.

…

Danny didn’t know he was getting in when Clockwork sent him out to another errand at another time. He should have gotten used to CW’s vague and cryptic errands through time when he was a teen, but as he was sealing another crack from time, he saw something that shouldn’t be in the period. A man clearly from out of time trying and failing to fit in, though he may have fooled the locals but he had been traveling and fixing time since he was in high school. 

At first, he looked perplexed but if CW didn’t mention anything then he won’t do anything.

But slowly Danny realized that whichever period the guy was in, it was where the next set of cracks would be, so Danny decided to follow the guy.

…

Bruce may still be weary and tired from the constant falling through time but even in his tired state can see that there is someone following him.

Every era there that man was, seemingly walking around aimlessly but then he noticed that he kept a good distance away from him.

Eventually, it led to and confrontation between the two males.

…

Danny who explained that despite having the power to travel through time cannot help Bruce as his little messages are creating small cracks in the time stream and are merely there to seal up the cracks, but offers news that he will get back to his own time.

Bruce who is just wishing for human contact that relates to him as well in the verge of going off to the Flash to stop going back in time for another chance to eat a breakfast that tasted better than before.

…

The two began conversing with one another and slowly fell in love.

…

Bruce is the first one to fall hard, Danny whose light-heartedness brought Bruce out of his shell. It had only taken a few conversations with each other to lose his shield around his heart. Danny both accepted both Bruce and Batman within him. Danny’s smile lights up Bruce’s world, at first Bruce tries to hide his feelings to Danny so as not to lose his only companion throughout the ordeal.

…

The two began dancing around their feelings and Bruce in an out of character of him sent a love letter and a poem to Danny when the ghost was needed somewhere else to seal the crack.

As old as I am, I have had the most dreadful experiences in love. I have a very dark past and I'm a damaged soul. My past experiences have groomed me into believing that there's no such thing as true love, but with you, I feel different. You make me fall in love with myself too. You always make me smile, and I'm scared. I'm scared to fall in love and get broken again, I'm scared to give my all, only to be used again, to get shamed and embarrassed. I've seen how careful and caring you are around me, but sometimes you give me a cold shoulder, and it's small things like these that break me. Please bear with me and be fragile. I come from a very painful past where I had to be a woman and have no say. All this love and affection is a little scary to me because I'm not used to it. I'm falling for you and I'm falling hard. I hope our love story has a happy ending. Know that I will always love and cherish you.

 (Mmakoma Kamogelo. "My Confession." Family Friend Poems, September 6, 2016. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-confession-2)

Danny who received the letter burned red from reading the poem to the point his freckles were the only thing prominent on his red face, Danny knew that this man was from the future and couldn't help but feel a little bit insecure. That man, the Batman is someone out of his league but sends out a letter and a poem of his own.

Published by Family Friend Poems September 2016 with permission of the Author.

My love for you is uncontrollable.

 My feelings for you are unstoppable.

 Can't go a day without thinking about you.

 Without you, I'm not complete.

 With you, my heart finds its beat.

 My heart is filled with joy because of your love.

 You are my strength, and without you I'm weak.

 Before you came into my life, I was

 Hopeless, lonely, sad.

 When you showed up, I knew that you were sent to me. (Namely CW, Danny just knew that old Ancient did something)

 You are always here to support me.

 Your smile makes me shy,

 And sometimes I wonder where you have been all this while,

 But I'm just glad that I managed to get you in my life...

 YOU FILL MY HEART WITH JOY!

(Mmakoma Kamogelo. "My Confession." Family Friend Poems, September 6, 2016. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-confession-2)

…

When the two realized both were pinning to one another began sending each other little love notes, in the form of short poems to full-blown letters.

Both males whenever received a letter when one was apart, collected and hid it in a box to reread each stroke of the letter from the other, and whenever they were together, they just spent the entire day basking in each other’s presence.

Their little note exchange didn’t stop whenever Bruce fell to another period, Danny just followed him and started a new exchange mail of letters.

Of course, both used pseudonyms in their letters ranging from initials to fake names using only the letters from their names.

…

When Bruce was saved by Red Robin, he felt relieved as he could now stop falling into another period but another shock as he didn’t get to say goodbye to Danny.

Bruce knew that someday it come, but he was going to offer Danny the future with him. He is going to offer Danny the world, but it seems that it was never meant to be.

Maybe that’s why his past self never met Danny, too disappointed, too dejected to meet him once again.

…

It has been a few months since he came back to his future, it was another family outing organized by Dick.

It was a museum featuring the latest found by archeologists, as Bruce was surveying case to another case, he fell upon a worn-out parchment with his handwriting.

Wide-eyed, Bruce looked closely at the exhibit and found that the description said the letter was about a man named “Brooks” confessing his love in the form of a short poem to a woman named “Daniella” who had the same feelings as him but had other responsibilities to fully go where he is.

Bruce began looking at the other exhibits and there along rows and rows of his letter exchange with Danny from different periods. 

Jason and Tim who were a few cases away from him began having a heated discussion with a stranger about the supposed woman in the letters being a man the entire exchange is between a pair of male couple, and the so-called Historians are hiding the fact that it was between men.

Bruce was about to interfere with the upcoming verbal fight when a stranger beside him commented that “Daniella” probably missed “Brooks” as the last letter and poem to the exchange when “Daniella” noticed that “Brooks” is no longer responding is…

(By E.E. Cummings)

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

 my heart)I am never without it(anywhere

 I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

 by only me is your doing, my darling)

                           I fear

 no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)i want

 no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)

 and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

 and whatever a sun will always sing is you

 here is the deepest secret nobody knows

 (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

 and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

 higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

 and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

 i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

 (E.E. Cummings. "[i Carry Your Heart With Me(i Carry It In]." Family Friend Poems, https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/i-carry-your-heart-with-me-by-ee-cummings)

Bruce is startled as he doesn’t even notice Danny’s last letter to him when he takes a good look at the stranger…

…

There he is, Danny in his early 30’s looking at him with softness and deep love in his eyes and a gentle smile. As if he hadn’t waited centuries for Bruce to appear once again, and what looked like willing to wait once again for him.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: As you can see, I have never fallen in love and please mind my poor and lack of love life in my life to relate to my work.

PPPS: I decided to post a bit early, I've got something going on to the actual February 14.

[mythalism]

another thing i love, but this one is controversial, is the portrayal of the inquisitor. NOT their tiny insignificant role in the game until the 11th hour while they send us weirdly formal and deeply out of character letters but the actual dialogue from my lavellan and the way she carries herself in the scenes we do see of her (though there should have been more, without a doubt) is actually my favorite part of the game probably. i know this is maybe a very solavellan inquisitor exclusive experience and also just dumb luck that the way they wrote her in this game fits my lavellan but holy shit im so obsessed with it. its not even how i imagined how she would behave but its even better? the way they managed to convey her growth and maturity after 10 years literally floored me, and yet she still maintains this wistfulness that feels so incredibly right. the way she speaks with such confidence and conviction in her conversation with rook about her relationship with solas and then suddenly dissolves into pauses and stutters and “i don’t know”s when confronted with the possibility that there might actually be a future for them is INSANE. “or maybe I’m the prideful one, imagining his broken heart so that I don’t have to face my folly. that i loved someone who made such grave mistakes. that I might love him still” IS THE BEST LINE IN THE ENTIRE GAME. TO ME. IM SO SERIOUS. i watched that scene over and over and over and over again. the way she sits rook down and demands they tell her what solas did at the ritual with such authority but also the faintest glimmer of naive, foolish hope in her eyes that he might be salvageable is so sickening, and the way she turns it around on rook in the end to playfully ask about their love life. it’s like watching The Inquisitor switch turn off mid conversation. and there she is!!! that’s her!!!! of course she would ask rook about their lover of course she would she fell in love during the end of the world too!!! the several knowing looks shared between her and morrigan (“speaking from the heart, inquisitor?”) that imply a much deeper friendship has blossomed since we last saw them. her one little line with dorian - “something like that”. even the way she quietly sneaks into the throne room at the end, completely alone, as if she snuck away from the rest holed up below the archons palace. “even if those you have wronged asked you to stop?” the pained look on her face. the way she gets on her knees to look him in the eye. the way she speaks in elvhen, the implication that she has been studying it over the past 10 years. the fact that she does not touch him until after he takes her hands. literally every second of it is so good. it feels so so so right to me. it’s honestly as if, because my inquisitor has grown older than me by almost a decade, it was hard for me to imagine what she’d be like in her mid-30s, after so many hard years of grief and loneliness and the burdens of leadership. and the writers were just like “it’s okay, here, this is what she would be like after all this time”, AND THEY WERE RIGHT!? and it’s so subtle but it’s literally spot-on. it feels like the most natural progression of who she was. a little bit more sad, a bit more quiet, her words are more measured, no more snarky one liners (and maybe that’s why I love it so much- it’s such a refreshing change from listening to rook talk like they’re on Disney channel), there is a weight to her words and her presence that conveys her age and experience so clearly to me. veilguard made me love my inquisitor so much more. it has made me understand her so much more. it has clarified who she was in inquisition in the context of who she becomes later. im so obsessed with it im SO OBSESSED WITH HER!!!

[writerthreads]

How to write a good plot twist

By Writerthreads on Instagram

I know plot twists have been a highly debated topic recently (ahem Disney twist villains), so I've decided to make a post on writing a strong plot twist that feels natural yet shocking. Hope this helps!

Make it unexpected but expectable

Unexpected: The best plot twists shock the reader, but they should never feel random or out of the blue. If the twist feels completely disconnected from everything that came before, it can seem like the author is forcing it for the shock value. To make it unexpected, you could lead characters down one path, only to reveal later that things are not as they seemed. However, try to avoid a twist that feels like a deus ex machina, where a sudden, unearned event resolves everything.

Inevitable: While the twist needs to be surprising, it also must feel like it was always meant to happen. This means leaving enough clues or subtle foreshadowing that when the twist is revealed, readers can look back and say, “ah, that makes sense.”

Keep characters consistent

Twists that involve characters acting out of character are incredibly frustrating. Even in a surprising twist, characters should behave aligned with their established personalities, motivations, and goals. A twist shouldn't have a character suddenly acting against everything the reader knows about them unless there’s a reason, like a hidden motive.

Think about your characters' desires, flaws, and inner conflicts, and use them to drive the twist. For example, a twist where a seemingly loyal friend betrays the protagonist should stem from a believable motivation that has been hinted at throughout the story.

Foreshadow, not broadcast

The best twists are hinted at, but subtly. Readers should be able to piece things together in hindsight, but not predict the twist well before it happens. It's easy to explain but hard to do successfully!

To make this work, use small, seemingly insignificant details that later take on new meaning. These could be lines of dialogue, symbolic objects, or minor events that have a deeper purpose. However, be careful not to overdo it. If the clues are too heavy, readers may guess the twist early.

Subvert expectations

A twist should challenge what readers believe about the story or characters. Playing with readers’ assumptions is a powerful tool. Lead them to expect one outcome, then deliver something entirely different, yet believable.

Consider what tropes or narrative expectations you’re working with, and how you can flip them. If readers expect a traditional happy ending, throw a wrench into it. If they’re expecting the villain to be defeated, reveal that the protagonist is actually aligned with them, or the villain wins (temporarily or permanently!).

Without spoilers, a good example would be Gone Girl!

Heighten the emotional impact

A plot twist should have emotional weight and alter the stakes of the story. The emotional response from your readers—whether it’s shock, sadness, or even excitement—depends on how well you’ve developed your characters and story. If the twist doesn’t change anything meaningful or deepen the conflict, it may feel flat or pointless. The twist should add emotional layers, making the story richer, not just surprising.

Time it right

When you deliver a twist is crucial to its impact. If it’s too late, you risk leaving too much time for the plot to lose momentum afterward. Conversely, if it's too early, and it can feel rushed or not fully explored.

A twist can come in the middle, shaking up the entire plot (e.g., changing who the villain is or shifting the main goal), or closer to the end, forcing the reader to reinterpret everything. However, leave time for the characters to respond to the twist so it doesn’t feel unresolved.

Don't overdo them

Too many twists in a single story can exhaust your readers and undermine the narrative. If your plot is constantly shifting directions with twist after twist, readers may feel like they can’t trust the narrative at all, which could work well if done purposefully, but otherwise might make the readers get tired and stop reading.

Test it out

Getting feedback from beta readers can help you fine-tune the twist and ensure it lands as you intend.

Some questions to ask: Did they see the twist coming? Did it feel believable? Did it enhance the story or feel forced?

Their reactions can help you adjust the twist until it becomes a masterpiece!

Hopefully these tips help you with your writing! Do you have a favourite plot twist in literature or movies/ TV shows? Let us know in the comments :)

[grinsgrimmy]

Hello, Writer-nim! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

I'm a new fan of your blog! I really like how you write! ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᡣ𐭩 I saw that your drabble request slot is still open. I'm just wondering if you'll be able to write a character from 'Death is the only ending for the Villainess'? For Callisto Regulus, specifically? ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ

Like, Reader finds a jar that's full of trinkets and it's so familiar to her because these are all the trinkets she gave to him since they met. And it's like Callisto's greatest treasure. ૮⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝ ა

Thank you in advance, Writer-nim! 화이팅~! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡

Ｔ Ｒ Ｅ Ａ Ｓ Ｕ Ｒ Ｅ .

ㅤᯓᡣ𐭩 𝖢𝖠𝖫𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖮 𝖱𝖤𝖦𝖴𝖫𝖴𝖲 𝗑 𝖠𝖥𝖠𝖡!𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

DEATH IS THE ONLY ENDING FOR THE VILLAINESS

๋࣭⭑ֶֶֶָָָ֢֢֢𖹭 drabble. (816 words)

sum. you found a jar on callisto's dresser. the content in the jar were familiar to you

note : thank you for your request and kind words, anonie! it took me a while to do this because i could not exactly understand callisto's personality for some reason. I ended up summarising his personality to be NEARLY the same as sylus from love and deepspace. regardless, I FINALLY DID NOT GO OVER THE WORD LIMIT !!

drabble request slots have reopened !

ㅤ⪩⪨ m.list

“aren't you so bold to snoop around the crown prince's bedroom, dear?”

callisto mused, leaning against the doorframe with that insufferable, arrogant smirk of his. he eyed you going through his bedroom with an amused glint in his eyes.

clearly, he was enjoying the sight of you getting caught in the act.

you did not actually mean to snoop around callisto's bedroom. you had been waiting for him when he was busy getting dressed. since you had nothing to do, you let your eyes mindlessly wander around his massive yet empty room.

it was not as though you were trying to find something. you were just idly passing time while waiting for him. but then your eyes landed on something that sat sitting on his dresser that was oddly near his bed.

before you could think twice about what you were doing, your curiosity got the better of you. hence, you ended up investigating what that odd thing could be.

when you gazed upon the item. it was an old, weathered glass jar, though the content within it were certainly new. you took a moment to process what exactly it was that gave a tug of familiarity.

the trinkets were so familiar to you.

you would have not bat an eye on that glass jar if it were not for the contents in it.

then, callisto caught you in that moment.

which led to callisto standing in the doorway, giving the most annoying smirk known to man alongside that look of bemusement.

you felt your heart racing when you were caught. though you knew you were not guilty, you felt as if you were touching something so incredibly intimate to him.

you straightened up immediately. your hands instinctively moving to your back to hide the jar you took from his dresser.

you took another long gaze in the jar without shame to ease your curiousity. after processing it, it caught you by surprise when you realised what those were.

the trinkets and other items within it were tiny gifts you gave callisto over the course of your time together.

small tokens of affection or silly, spontaneous, or callisto decided it would be better to steal it from you.

each trinket within it brought back memories of the two of your shared moments you did not know you needed to remember.

a pebble from your garden that you gave to callisto during your early days of meeting him to boldly mock him. several jewellery you gifted (and stolen) to callisto. two overworn handkerchiefs and other tiny content you saw—

all these small, seemingly insignificant gifts you had given to him,

you never realised he had kept them.

it hit you hard. you could not even comprehend what you felt seeing the jar.

affection? adoration? nostalgia? disbelief?

there were too many thoughts running through your mind.

your fingers tightened around the jar unconsciously, as if shielding the vulnerability you felt at that moment.

callisto, the annoyingly observant man that he is, noticed your change in expressions. he gave you a knowing look as he took a slow step forward to you.

“i had no idea you were so sentimental, darling,” he commented with his usual teasing tone, yet it was laced with something more.

you opened your mouth to speak, but your words were tangled in your throat. you were caught by the strange, warm ache in your chest that you could not explain.

“i didn't know you kept these...” you croaked out, trying not to sound vulnerable, but your voice was softer than you intended. you glanced at the jar again with disbelief.

his lips curled into a tiny, gentler smile, yet he managed to maintain his arrogant smirk after. he took the jar from your hands carefully. you noticed he was cradling it almost reverently, scared it would break.

“this is where i store my greatest treasures,” callisto murmured, his voice almost tender when he glanced at the content within the jar.

his eyes shifted to you. he placed the jar where it belonged, then his fingers brushed against yours. he gave a knowing grin. “if i could put you in here, i would,” he said teasingly, but you could sense that he actually meant it.

he then leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. the warmth of his lips lingered longer than you expected. it was a quiet gesture, but it was profound to you, as if it were a promise.

in that moment, you realised it was not just the objects that made you sentimental, it was that callisto had truly seen you. all these tiny things could have been easily overlooked, but he cherished it.

callisto cherished you.

"thank you," you whispered. the words carried heavy meaning. you gave him a smile, a sincere one without artifice. a smile that caught callisto off guard.

callisto then smiled, a smile that matched yours— genuine and sincere, far more than either of you had anticipated.

・❥・want a hc / oneshot? please consider commissioning in ko-fi !

[sweetwolfcupcake]

The Taste of Deceit( Hyung line Part One)

Request

Yandere Masterlist

Warnings: Violence, Dark Characters with Darker Intentions. And the plot would only get darker from here. Disturbing imagery, allusions, blood.

Word Count: 14k+ (Yes, I lost myself in the flow)

(GIF credits to the owner. I do not own them)

Kindly excuse the typos and errors

*****

The night was young and the stars were restless.

The night was young and the club was booming.

The night was young…

yet it felt like the darkest hour when his eyes met hers. 

(Y/N) worked as a bartender at an elite bar in the city- sort-after, high-end, but oddly lowkey. It was subtle, but an experienced pair of eyes would point out the oddities with ease.

As he sauntered towards her section, she busied herself with arranging the glasses and the mixers.

She had sworn to herself that she would stay out of trouble, and the broad-shouldered man with lips that seemed to be the carrier of kisses from paradise looked nothing less than trouble- big, deep trouble. 

“What specials do we have tonight?”

(YN) almost flinched at his voice, but her actions remained smooth as ever as she arranged the glasses. She managed to put up a smile though

“Cosmopolitan, French 75 and Paloma.”

“Cosmopolitan with olives please.” 

Even his voice was honey-like. But it held an unusual edge to it– some rare kind of honey- light but the right amount of sweet.

“I haven’t seen you before.” 

He stated as a matter of fact.

“I joined a few months ago,” she replied 

“I visited here last week.”

“I used to work the morning shift, it’s my first day in the evening shift.” she replied softly while handing him his drink.”

He smiled as he sipped from his drink but his eyes never left hers.

“Hope it’s not too overwhelming for you?”

“A little.” she admitted sheepishly “But my colleagues have been incredibly helpful, I think I will be settled soon.”

He hummed before finishing off his drink with a swig “I am Jin,” he offered his hand for a shake. 

With a somewhat hesitant smile, she took it– his hold was firm but his hands felt warm and smooth, just like his eyes.

The night was young and the stars were restless.

The night was young and the club was booming.

The night was young, yet when he smiled, 

it felt like slow electricity pulsing through the air

Jin– Kim Seokjin.

(Y/N) noted. The description that she was provided did no justice to what she was experiencing at the moment– his aura, his appearance, everything hit her at once.

The night was still young

And it was a long way ahead.

But officer (Y/N) (L/N) was determined.

“Liya. My name is Liya Grace.” she introduced herself.

The night was young

And she had taken the first step

—------------

Kim Seokjin was many things, Liya came to know that with her two years spent with him. He was a perfect gentleman, and he remembered exactly how many teaspoons of sugar she liked in her coffee and he oddly remembered the days that were otherwise insignificant to Officer (Y/N)- the person behind the mask of sweet and charming Liya Grace.

Little things mattered to Kim Seokjin, (Y/N) had realised– when Liya would cook dinner for him and wait up to reheat it even if her eyes would be droopy. When she would remember what tie he liked on certain days. When she would help him with fixing his tie and cuff links. Or when she would bring him his coffee to his home office every two hours.

One might misunderstand those as his expectation at first glance, but no– he never expected or assumed that he was not of the kind.

But the little gestures of care and devotion made him happy. It assured him that his partner was just as devoted to him as he was.

And was he a sincere lover– to the extent that (Y/N) felt a prick of guilt every time she replied to his soft, quiet declarations of love.

Jin was a lover straight out of a woman’s daydreams. 

One would never believe how the hands that touched her so delicately were the ones that pushed his enemies to their dooms.

But (Y/N) knew. She knew because she had witnessed him strangle men twice his size with ease– it was like buying bread to him- mundane business.

His eyes would be chillingly nonchalant and they were the windows for the sinister beast in him to peek through.

But only (Y/N) knew of this side of him– undercover officer (L/N)(Y/N) who was quick and quiet and never even breathed loud but took all the pictures right, and never forgot to set bugs in his office. Officer (Y/N) was subtle and clever, after all.

Liya Grace, however, was naive and oblivious, believing in whatever her beloved boyfriend fed her. He owned chains of hotels, exclusive nightclubs and restaurants. What was odd with that? Some red wine sprinkled on his white shirt? Happens! Why would not she believe him?

That was not technically a lie. Jin did own all of them. But they were the surface, the strong shields protecting his underground illegal weapon dealings– his real business.

It would have been so easy to fool any ordinary civilian, but (Y/N) was no ordinary civilian. 

“You’re late. Again.” 

“I’m sorry Jagi, you know well that I am– it’s those old investors, always looking for loopholes in my projects.”

Potential buyers

(Y/N) corrected him mentally  as she scoffed and turned away pretending to be upset 

“Liya–love, you can’t be angry at me now, it's only–uh– a bit late…” he trailed off as he glanced at his limited edition watch.

“It’s two in the morning Jin.” she huffed while reheating his dinner 

“Hmm, pretty late, but you are still awake sweetheart.”

“Yes”

Just getting some confidential documents.

“I wanted to talk.”

“Everything alright Jagi?” he sounded concerned but her smile soothed his frown

“Just considering visiting my parents. Haven’t seen them in a while.”

“Why? I mean is everything okay there?”

“Oh no, I just miss them.”

There was another thing (Y/N) had noticed about Kim Seokjin. He liked to keep her for himself.

He was a possessive man, more so emotionally than physically. It was normal for lovers to be possessive, but his sense of possession extended a bit too far.

And it made (Y/N) squirm sometimes– she could swear it was just her being uncomfortable, but deep down, she knew that there was a sinister edge to his love and it made an eerie anticipation bloom in her heart.

“Why not we go to meet them this weekend? You can finally introduce me to them then?”

“Oh Jin, no need of that, you already have a tight schedule.”

There was no way that she could let all her hard work go down the drain.

“But Liya, I have to meet them someday.”

“Sure Jin, I want you to meet them too, but I want to see how they would take the news of me already living with my boyfriend– they have always been a bit protective of me and I want things to go smoothly so bad...Let me set the ground first. Hm?”

She managed to muster up her best puppy eyes and Jin finally relented and nodded with a sigh. He was in a hurry to put a ring on her finger, so eager in fact that she already had a promise ring occupying her finger.

“When do you plan to go then?”

“Tomorrow?”

Jin smiled and nodded “Just don’t stay away from me long, okay?” 

—------

“Liya! I have cooked your favourites.” 

Her father greeted her on the porch as soon as she arrived.

“Dad I missed you!”

Her father smiled and pulled her in for a hug.

“You have the pigeon feed?” he whispered into her ears without a single muscle faltering.

She hummed, still smiling.

There could be no chance taken. It was Kim Seokjin after all, and underestimating him would be foolishness. The department knew that Kim Seokjin had eyes everywhere and one slip-up could cost them not only all their hard work but also their lives.

“Hurry up, your Mom is setting the table.” he ushered her in as they played the perfect father and daughter for the hidden hawks.

—----

“Here.” (Y/N) handed them a Pendrive. It was the one that contained recordings of his office, some pictures of classified documents and some codes

“Excellent Officer.” her ‘mother’ hummed as she examined the item.

“Now that the pigeons will be feeding, let us have dinner too.” her ‘father’ quipped in– finally at ease now that the documents were in their hands.

—------

(Y/N) had excused herself back to her room. It was cosy yet oddly familiar– detailed to perfection. A typical room that screamed  ‘I spent my teenage years here’. (Y/N) felt exhausted. Not only because she had been putting up a facade for so long but also because the ring on her finger sat heavily– mocking her as it gleamed under the nightlight. But most of all, it was the booming questions in her mind, screaming at her for answers.

She dug into her purse to retrieve a Pendrive. Another Pendrive that held the most crucial information, the deepest vulnerabilities in Kim Jin’s empire, in his security system. The Pendrive contained information that could easily lead to his encounter– no more pieces of evidence required.

She gulped, fiddling with the tiny device. She had always known what she wanted, what she was doing. But not this time.

What was she doing?

Why couldn’t she—why did not she submit the most important Pendrive to her superiors?

It would take them no time to bring Kim Seokjin and his empire of illegal weapons into ashes and yet….

“What’s wrong with me?” she huffed out breathlessly.

Finding no convincing answer, she settled for going to bed. Maybe a bit of rest would do? She had been pretending for so long, acting as the perfect, oblivious little girlfriend to a man so subtly dark, it had taken a toll on her mentally and emotionally.

—----

Drip

Drip

Drip

Drip

Drip

Drip drip drip dripdripdripdripdrip

.

.

.

Gurgrlegurlegurlegurglegurglegurgurgurgle—

“Huh?”

It was disorienting to wake up to the sound of an open tap. Without much thought, she stepped into the bathroom, cringing at the wet sensation. It was tap left open and the basin was overflowing. Turning the tap off, she waited for the water to settle down. 

The drain was blocked.

She did not remember blocking it. She had not even stepped into the bathroom.

She pulled out the lid, unlocking the drain as thoughts began to flood in. It was an in-built instinct within her. She never dismissed anything that even felt remotely off.

And at the moment she felt like something was very, very strange.

The sound of splashing and gurgling of water felt louder than it actually was. The silence was no longer blank, or even remotely cosy. It was instead eerie. 

Something just did not feel right.

Rushing to the closet, she searched for any weapons that they have provided her in the room. She let go of the breath that she had been holding as she felt a gun kept between a bundle of empty boxes. 

Fishing it out, she checked if it was loaded before pocketing the pen drive and slipping out of the room as quietly as possible. It was two o'clock in the morning, and while the silence was expected, this silence felt like holding one’s breath– it was filled with anticipation.

Making her way down the carpeted stair, she remained glued to the wall while her finger wrapped around the trigger. She gulped silently as her foot reached the bottom of the stairs. The door seemed locked, the kitchen was empty—

The backdoor!

Carefully gliding around along the walls, she reached the bedroom near the backdoor. The safety of her colleagues mattered the most to her at the moment. 

Much to her relief, she saw them asleep on the bed. Noislesslyy shutting the door, she made her way to the backdoor. It  appeared perfectly—

No.

It was unlocked. 

One twist of the doorknob gave away the fragility of their safety. Her ears tried to pick up any noise behind or around her while her eyes searched for her other colleagues roaming around in disguise. The house, past the lawn, was supposed to be occupied by her colleagues too. She quickly searched for the torchlight she knew was kept there. Gripping it with a tinge of desperation, she blinked it at the house window.

No response.

She tried again. They were supposed to have their eyes on this house for the whole damn night!

No response.

Feeling the panic beginning to build, she took a deep breath in and out. She had been spying on one of the country's biggest underworld figures, there had been people she had taken care of before.

Everything would be under control.

She tried to soothe herself as she made her way back to the bedroom, leaving the door unlocked. If something went wrong, the backdoor would be their safe exit.

As soon as she stepped into the bedroom, she reached out for them, fingers almost twitching to shoot anyone other than her colleagues.

“Sir, wake up.” she whispered as quietly as possible. Not getting a response, she tapped on his covers “Sir, Ma’am please—”

She felt cold at the sensation of the warmth she was familiar with–--warm and wet. Her throat closed up as she felt around the covers. It was all damp and warm inside but her colleagues were still and cold. 

She yanked her hand out with a shaky gasp, only to be further horrid at the sight of her tainted hands in the darkness of the room— she could see it clearly–even under the street light. 

There was a faint noise of something shifting that had her pointing her gun at the darkest corner of the room. Her heart thumped in fear and anticipation as she pointed her gun at the darkness.

It was at that moment when her anticipation came to a  heavy halt— Jin stepped out of the dark corner, taking up the space near the window instead. The streetlight and moon rays falling on his form gave him an eerie illumination.

“Why wait now?… Here I am. Pull the trigger.” 

His inaction was far more chilling than his acts of violence. He was just standing still– and nonchalant and yet, the darkness in his eyes was far deeper than the dark corner he emerged from.

“Is it not what you were sent for, after all?” he drawled, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Now you even have a reason.” 

his eyes flickered to the bed momentarily before settling back on her as he tilted his head slightly

 “What’s the matter Officer (Y/N)(L/N), pull the trigger.” the amusement was clear in his tone.

She would not pull the trigger, even if it was the right thing to do, she would never do that. 

And Kim Seokjin had realised it before her. 

She hid away the pen drive, her hands shook as she pointed her gun at him and her fingers froze at the mere thought of shooting him. 

She shook her head, trying to push back her tears as the realisation began to dawn upon her, like a nightmare merging into reality.

“E-even if I tell you why, you would not believe me.” she breathed out.

It was pathetic. How would he believe her if she told him that she had just realised that she was in love with him? For real.

Why would he believe that even?

The corner of Jin’s lips lifted up slightly at her words.

“Oh Jagi, I know you inside out…” he trailed away as he sauntered towards her.

His movements reminded her of the first time she had met him. Two years ago.

Today was the day– the day they first met.

She stepped back, half in shock, half in caution, her hands lowered far before she had realised.

“Why did you keep the other pen drive to yourself? You had two of them.” 

He knew, he always knew.

“How long?”

Jin’s lips tugged up with smugness.

“The moment our eyes met I knew that you did not belong there.”

She took in a sharp breath.

“Assuming that I had never known of you– confidence.” he continued to take predatory steps towards her. 

She truly felt like a cornered prey– so small and helpless. His towering form seemed to have engulfed the whole room- and he, her whole existence. She flinched internally when her back touched the wall. 

“But assuming that my sources would never know about you– overconfidence.” he smiled as he reached her. The kind of smile that made her feel cold

There was no way out.

“If you plan to kill me, just get over with it now.” the words felt foreign on her tongue, but she meant them.

“Oh Jagi…” he drawled as if sharpening his sword “ I only intend to teach you a sweet, sweet lesson…I do love you after all.” she forced down a whimper as he leaned closer to her, his lips touching her earlobes

 “After all, you love me too, and you shall scream that to the world tonight”

****

Min Yoongi was many things.

He was subtle, he was lowkey, and yet he was powerful, he bathed in money and influence and guess what– he was a well-known face on the top magazines, billboards and newspapers.

He was one of the leading industrialists after all.

To the world.

Behind closed doors ran the chaos and spills of the underworld– white power, red ink and sharp edges.

Min Yoongi was many things, but he was not always very patient– especially during crucial interrogations. His business was vast and deep. And to run such a vast business empire– one he had built himself, he needed money– a flood of it.

 People looked up to him as an inspirational figure– the ideal rags-to-riches man. But to build such an empire by the age of thirty-two, one needed something extra, and Yoongi had nothing– nothing other than a hawk’s eyes and a razor mind. So he used them instead and created a whole ring of underground business. The profit in the market required heavy investments and it came not only from big investors, it was pumped from the underground.

Who would suspect that the man making gaping charities, arranging free scholarships and educating millions of children would be the one running a whole underground business?

The police, who else?

It was an open secret among the top officers. They knew what went on behind closed doors and dark basements in his posh offices and luxurious hotels. Too bad, Min Yoongi was always ten steps ahead.

It had turned into a cat-and-mouse game, they would hunt for evidence, a loophole and Yoongi would hunt for the one digging those holes.

The man’s head was pulled out of the cold water. He coughed and wheezed, struggling to breathe through the remaining water dripping down along with blood.

Yoongi sighed. Twenty minutes– twenty fucking minutes and no information regarding the infiltrator. Though it was no new thing, it was a matter of increasing concern because he had not been able to get hold of the mouse yet. 

The man being interrogated was one too, but Yoongi knew that he was not the spy he should be concerned with.

“Here’s how this is going to be young man…” he began with a cigarette clasped between his lips. He paused briefly to light it up. “You tell me who has been collecting information about my organisation and I give you an easy death.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicked up, finding the dilated pupils of the man, blood and saliva running down his busted lips. He spat out two of his bloody teeth into the water and coughed. He gasped again as one of Yoongi’s men took hold of his hair, ready to dunk his head into the murky water again.

Yoongi rose his palm this time, halting his men’s actions. Pulling the cigarette away, he blew out smoke into the air, momentarily blurring his face “Let me rephrase it..If you do not reveal your partner, I will make sure that you continue to breathe.”

 Nearing him, Yoongi leaned closer, whispering in his ear 

“Besides, your sister would make up for the loss of our money for our clients. Now, that would be perfect, don’t you think?”

Yoongi smirked as the man clenched his jaw and shuddered. He gripped his shoulder and squeezed the bruise hard, making the man scream.

“Think about it, hero– your charity might cost you your sister’s life. She just entered college, didn’t she? Tsk tch tch, she must have so many dreams…” he threatened with a voice dripping with mock concern while his eyes held a promise of acting through his words.

The man shut his eyes, gritting his teeth before looking dead into Yoongi’s eyes

“Raven”

Was all he said before pushing out a tiny bottle from his tied hands, it had been there between his palms. It happened within the span of seconds, one moment the man was there, and the next, he shoved the bottle in his mouth before dropping dead.

Cyanide.

“Where were your eyes?” Yoongi gritted out as he looked at his men with fury “Where.the.fuck were you looking when he had this in his fucking palms?”

His men trembled but said nothing, only hanging their heads in shame. Min Yoongi with raised voice was a threat, but he with a cold, low voice with gritting teeth was a warning that barely stood between one’s life and his gun.

Surely, the police officer's body was not the only one which would be laying there.

But to their utter surprise, their boss’ fingers, instead of going for his gun, went to his head, running through his long hair.

He took a few puffs from his cigarette before dropping it on the wet floor and viciously crushing it with his heavy shoes.

He sighed, closing his eyes, the thin cut running through his face could be seen in its complete glory with his eyes closed– it began from his forehead and sliced straight through his left eyebrow, and eyelid, ending on his upper cheek, parallel to his nose. It was faded but only added to the grim aura he carried.

“Find out who is Raven. And don’t be lousy fucky this time.”

That was all he said before marching out of the place.

Min Yoongi was many things but he was not a man to step back from his words, even if it was something he had promised himself.

No blood on his hands on her birthday. 

—---

The front light of the shop flickered before dimming considerably while Yoongi’s car pulled up in front of the flower shop. It was decent, but in Yoongi’s mind, needed a ton of renovation. It was already past midnight and his only regret was that he could not be there to wish her on the strike of twelve.

The door sign showed ‘closed’ but he rang the bell anyway, his heart thumping on hearing the muffled sound of her ascending the stairs.

His lips curved into a smile as soon as the door opened.

“You came? I thought you were busy.”

“And I thought I told you to wait for me at my place. Yet I find you here, sleeping with just a single lock at the main door.” he commented as he walked inside. 

The flower shop was on the ground floor, and the floor above was where she lived. It would seem odd, special in a way– a business tycoon and a florist. But it would turn bizarre at the revelation of his true identity. A man marred with the underground murk and a sweet florist, oblivious to the monster she was letting in almost every night at her home.

“I baked some cookies.”

“Mhm? I got you some fried chicken with cheese and beer.” her eyes lit up at that and she smiled, raining heavens on his heart.

“Oh, Yoongi, you always know what I want!”

 Her voice dripped with delight as she made her way upstairs, while he locked the door, making eye contact with his men stationed just opposite the flower shop, under the guise of some construction workers.

He sighed in delight as her delicate floral fragrance engulfed him while he followed her upstairs.

“Wait for me in the bedroom, I will bring the food. And–what is this? A cake? You even brought me a cake? Oh Yoongi, you did not need to.”

He shook his head and smiled, taking her hands into his.

 “But I wanted to.” 

His hand slid to her lower back and the other hand guided her hand to his shoulder as they began to slow dance in the kitchen, the food long forgotten at the kitchen counter. 

Fishing out his phone, he clicked to play a retro romantic track– slow, lovely and oh-so poetic. He smiled at her, stealing a fleeting kiss on her forehead as they continued to move, like a slow-burning flame that would ignite one’s soul.

“Happy Birthday my love.” he whispered ever so tenderly as she looked up with glistening eyes. 

She tucked her head on his chest, relishing the moment in silence.

—---- 

One of the best leisure activities had to be sitting on the bed and enjoying one’s favourite meal along with one’s favourite person, Yoongi realised that while placing another piece of fried chicken on her plate. She smiled at him, a smudge of ketchup on her lower lip and it made her all the more adorable to her. All he wanted was to protect her, love her and be loved by her.

He scrunched his nose lightly while wiping the ketchup with his thumb while she munched on the chicken with stuffed cheeks.

Min Yoongi was in love with her, he knew it, she knew it too and he hoped that she would trust him too, enough to believe in his love through thick and thin.

“Gina…” he began as he took her hands in his, not minding the crumbles and oil “Do you trust me?”

She blinked “Yoongi, where is this coming from?”

“Just tell me, do you trust me to never hurt you? To love and protect you with my life?”

She frowned before nodding, but that was not enough for him.

“I need words Gina, do you trust me, love?”

“Yes Yoongi…” her voice shook but there was a crack of uncertainty. 

He would admit that it did hurt him, but he also knew that this was nothing beyond normal human behaviour– blind trust was a luxury and he would taste that luxury soon, he only had to be patient. He knew that her trust would falter with his next words, but he needed to do what was required.

Taking a deep breath, he grasped her hands firmer “Gina…I love you, and I did not wish to lose you…so I hid something from you, but now I must come clean for the sake of our love.” licking his lips, he continued “Gina, you know me as the world does, a philanthropist business tycoon, one with multiple companies under his banner, international projects, the rags-to-riches guy and what not…But the truth is beyond that, darker than that.”

Her frown deepened at that “What do you mean?” 

Yoongi sighed and continued “I have an underworld business, Gina, I have my hands dipped in everything murky you can possibly imagine.”

He felt her stiffening at his words and as she attempted to pull away from his hold, his fear began to take the shape of reality. With each attempt to pull her hands away, his hold coiled tighter like a hungry snake. His jaws ticked at her futile attempts

“You promised to trust me, didn’t you?” his hand crept to her forearm 

“Y-Yoongi…”

“I love you, I love you so much Gina, don’t try to take that away from me.” hissed, turning desperate “I love you too much to let you go. I have everything prepared for you love, you will love the mansion, it has a vast garden and even a patch of woods, there are flowers, beautiful flowers, and the room I have prepared for you is your dream room, Love. We shall move to our room soon after the wedding.”

“Wedding?” she whispered out incredulously as if it were the most bizarre thing to hear from him. 

“Of course Jagi, are we not going to marry soon? I love you Gina and I thought this would be a perfect time to come out clean. I want to keep you safe love, pack up hmm? I have had the mansion all readied.”

“No” she whispered, making Yoongi pause

“No?”

He scowled, tightening his hold to a painful extent before jerking her closer to him, ignoring the whimper his actions and eyes had elicited.

“What do you mean by No?” he snarled before closing his eyes and looking away– his tongue pushed against the inner wall of his cheek to show his thinning patience as he remained unfazed by her struggle to slip away from his bruising hold. “Gina…I told you that I love you, didn’t I? I came clean to you like a good lover. Isn’t it your turn to show appreciation and fucking listen to me? You are so fucking unsafe here I cannot protect—”

He was cut off by the sound of a click that tore through the otherwise heavy silence like an arrow in a dead forest

He looked at her, hold loosening before she mouthed--

RUN!

But there was no time for that other than reaching for his gun strapped on his shin but the moment his fingers touched the gun, he felt the piecing of a bullet. Chaos ensued as a figure in black jumped down from the attic, opening the foldable ladder that dropped from the ceiling, and reaching the bed.

Yoongi felt hands forcing him down before he elbowed the assaulter. His palm was already suffering a bullet wound but his eyes never left her– his Gina, or that was the name she had used. She shook her head, tears now streaming down in full force. 

“Min Yoong, you are under arrest!”

How were there so many men in the room? Boots rang across the floor as many men in uniform stormed the room, forcing him down further. But his eyes remained on the woman sitting in front of him, nursing her bruising wrist yet looking down at him with the sorrow only a true lover could.

Her eyes widened as he smiled at her– a genuine smile that came from the realisation that she did warn him to run, that she had pain in her eyes. 

“What’s your name?” he whispered softly making her her eyes widen. “Your name…”

“Oi! You are under arrest for being involved in illegal business, you just confessed that!” 

One of the officers spat out as he snatched away the necklace she wore roughly, making her wince and Yoongi's jaws tick.

 “We have it all recorded you scum!”

 He waved it in front of him before landing a heavy punch, making Yoongi’s head whip to the side, a bruise already forming while blood trickled down the corner of his lips.

But he did not care, finding her frightened eyes once more as her hand jerked to reach him, only to be stopped midway by the officer “What’s your name?” he asked again

 “Get her out of here.” the senior officer barked before the subordinate approached, his actions and tone much gentler than his superior as he helped her get up from the bed.

But before went out, she turned to him one last time, eyes filled with emotions, while Yoongi focused on pushing his heel against the sole of his shoe– one press of the sensor and his team would be ready. He smiled at her as she disappeared from his sight.

Soon, Love…Very Soon.

—-----

The journey to the police station involved being shoved into a heavily guarded van with too many armed men.

Twenty men for one person? Even with a bullet wound?

He liked the fear. 

His eyes met with one of the amateur officers, young, naive and so fucking idealistic perhaps– a version of his in his early teens. Yoongi smirked as he watched him gulp subtly.

Good.

As soon as they reached the police station at an ungodly hour, he was shoved into an overly guarded prison, the captain watched him from outside as one would while inspecting a feral animal.

The middle-aged man held his gaze as Yoongi made himself comfortable behind the bars, sitting on the bed near the wall, his form faintly visible in the darkness.

The captain held his phone to his ear before speaking up, breaking the tense silence that felt like a bated breath

 “Mission Raven Completed,” 

He whispered out, his eyes holding Yoongi’s gaze in mockery as he cut the call and slipped his phone into his pocket

“Your game is over Min Yoongi.” 

Yoongi sat still, his feline eyes shining with amusement under the minimal light reaching his prison.

“What? Aren’t you scared? The whole world will come to know your true face in a few hours!” he snarled at him.

Yoongi knew that he had made many, many enemies along his climb to the top of the underworld rings. And this captain seemed to take things a bit too personally. But what did he know of the ‘games’ he played?

“ Captain Jiwok…” he watched in satisfaction as the smirk was wiped out from the man’s face “My game has just begun.”

Before the man could speak any further, a deafening boom shook the whole building as rubble began to fall,  he watched the building burst into bedlam, throwing his back into laughter while his eyes twinkled in delight.

****

A sunny day, the bright colours of the summer and the gentle breeze playing with the new, tender leaves and the playful petals of brightest and softest blooms. 

It would make anyone smile. But not the mistress of the Jung Estate–(L/N)(Y/N), who could only resentfully look on as the servants, maids, dogs, cats, butterflies and even insects enjoyed their freedom of embracing the outside world– all but her.

The sprawling estate encompassed a vast garden with water channels running around in symbols, hosting a range of koi fish, one more stunning than the other and a number of servant quarters that housed the staff. 

The place would look idyllic to anyone who would first set their eyes on it. But underneath the beautiful estate, laid metal doors, bloody walls and unending, dark body chutes. One might find that shocking, but not (Y/N) – to her, the Jung Estate was an extension of the master of the property– Jung Hoseok– an angel’s face and a devil’s soul. But (Y/N) doubted that he had any soul at all.

Taking her eyes off the garden, she focused on the elaborate lunch spread out for her. At least she had a choice of food, she thought with contempt as the maid served her more rice.

“Would you like dessert after lunch Ma’am?” Lia, her personal maid enquired.

“No thank you.”

“They’re all your favourite Madame.” she pressed ever so gently.

Sighing, (Y/N) nodded. Dessert might do her soured mood some good.

“I will bring them right after you are finished, Madame.” Lia beamed

(Y/N)’s lips tugged up subtly with an amused smile as she continued to eat her lunch. Hoseok, her husband always told her how much he loved her smile. And yet, he had turned the reason behind its decline. 

Jung Hoseok was probably the most feared man in the country and she had made the foolish mistake of walking right into the lion’s den one sorry evening.

—-----

“Madame, sweet buns along with mini butter croissants.” 

(Y/N) had smelled the delicious aroma before the oven-fresh delicacies came within her sight. After all, something to truly smile about, without making her cheeks ache. 

“You should have your lunch, Lia.” she offered softly, aching to be left alone, truly alone, without his people following her like some…fucking guard dogs!

Lia, the dedicated girl was obviously not at fault– she was just doing what she was paid so heftily for– taking care of the mistress of the Jung Estate.

The Mistress of Jung Estate…Ironical, really, when she could not even step out of the iron castle without his consent. And if he were to go out of the city, even the garden was out of her reach. Even his pet had more freedom than her. 

And yet…

And yet he would claim to love her the most, adore her more than anything and appreciate even the most mundane thing she would do.

Huffing as such thoughts crossed her path, she violently tore the delicate croissant into two before—

Croissants were not supposed to make any tearing sounds! Or were they?

This time, she looked closer, only to two torn pieces of the same paper peeking out of the halves of the delicacy. (Y/N) frowned as she pulled the pieces of paper out before joining them. Only to part her lips in surprise at the sight of the message written there.

A phone number!

She crumpled the pieces of paper, hiding them away in her fist before carefully peeling apart another croissant– the same number!

This had to mean something, this could not be a coincidence.

Her stomach flipped as she gulped an uncomfortable lump in her throat. 

What is this?

The question rang louder than all other thoughts in her head as she delicately folded the paper and walked up to the closet before hiding the paper in one of her shoes.

Thankfully, there were only two such croissants and the rest had only warmth and aroma stuffed inside them, so were the sweet buns, simple and delicious. The incident felt more like a dream but (Y/N) knew that it was not.

—--

“Who prepared the dessert today?” (Y/N) prayed that she sounded absolutely nonchalant as she fiddled with her food, pretending to mix the sauce with the rice.

Sitting on the terrace, she could have a wide view of the spread-out property– all lit up and quiet, except for nature’s sounds.

“Oh, did you not like it Ma’am?” it was the butler serving her this time– breakfasts and dinners were his responsibility and she had no clue why this was a rigid routine.

“No, it was delicious, that’s why I asked…”

“I am glad Madame, Lia herself prepared the dessert.”

(Y/N) kept her eyes down, afraid that her eyes would give away the surprise. Somehow, she managed a mundane “Oh, I see.” but all she did was restrain herself from frowning.

She did not even remember when she fell asleep, in his absence, sleep seemed to come easy and deep. But this time, somehow she woke up with a start in the middle of the night. It was quiet but tense and while she was alert as soon as she woke up without the usual grogginess she would feel, the goosebumps all over her skin told her that something was just not right.

Squinting her eyes, she tried to adjust her eyes to the darkness when she spotted–

“Lia?” she hissed, annoyed that the girl was there inside her bedroom and had given her a nightmare-worthy scare.

“Lia, is that you?” she felt her parched throat before recognising her rising fear— what if it was not Lia but one of Hoseok’s rivals? What if the person wanted to hurt her? The silhouette matched that of her personal maid but she had not seen the person’s face yet and—

To her slight relief, Lia revealed herself as she stepped near the bed “Madame, you are awake at this time?”

What kind of question was that?

“What are you doing in my room at two in the morning?”

Lia only smiled at her counter-question, but there was something condescending about it.

“Don’t you feel better? More refreshed than mornings?”

“Wh-what? What kind of question—”

“I assume you’ve got the number and are smart enough to hide it in a safe place?” she cut her off,

(Y/N) gulped, feeling increasingly uneasy with the situation. She was alone, vulnerable in her room with her supposedly personal maid who seemed…just off.

Lia sighed and tilted her head “Don’t worry, I'm not here to hurt you. In fact, I can help you.”

“Help me?” she could feel her voice crumble at her words.

Help her as in helping her get out of the place? But who would dare to?

“No, woman, I am not a rival’s spy or something if you are worried about that. I work for the government.”

(Y/N) gasped quietly at that. Why would the government of the nation take the pains of infiltrating Hoseok’s home to rescue a simple girl? She gulped again, feeling her mouth grow increasingly dry.

“Don’t,” Lia’s voice was quiet but strong, halting (Y/N)’s movement immediately as she reached out for the water bottle placed on the nightstand.

“I was just feeling thirsty?” she could not help but feel fear beginning to grip her in the face of the uncertain situation.

“You can drink that once we’re finished with the conversation woman. You drink that right now, you will fall asleep again.”

“What?” (Y/N) frowned while Lia rolled her eyes with a slow shake of her head 

“You are such a naive girl, no wonder you are still stuck here.” 

 She sighed before explaining

 “Don’t you feel weird? It is only the butler who serves you breakfast and dinner, prepared by him in the boss’ absence? Don’t you wonder why you feel so sleepy, even after breakfast? You sleep until noon and yet feel tired after dinner”

“So…” (Y/N) gulped, feeling her stomach beginning to flip “So, y-you are saying that the food, the water is compromised?”

“‘Compromised’? Don’t soften this up now, you know what it is, just acknowledge it.”

“He–he won’t–I mean he couldn’t have—”

Lia smiled again, the same condescending smile that rubbed the ugly fact on her face and made her stomach churn.

“You are saying that—that the food and water I consume are…drugged?”

She knew that Hoseok’s ‘love’ was toxic, but this was straight out of some nightmare-inducing psychological thriller. She let out a shuddering breath as the horrible realisation dawned upon her. It was sick, absolutely sick. 

“You see, morning and night are the only times when guards change shifts and take breaks, he could not take any chances. You are after all his most treasured possession.”

She drawled, and her words slapped the bleak reality of her marriage right on her face. Was it even a marriage? She felt like a prisoner before, now she was reduced to a precious little pet.

Weren’t you always his fucking pet?

Her subconscious mocked her as she felt tears beginning to gather.

“It took me a while to figure out what was he giving you, but today I managed to slip an antidote in your dinner. How does it feel to wake up refreshed?”

When she did not answer, Lia threw something beside her, making her flinch 

“In case you realise how deep you are in. All you need is to call.”

(Y/N)’s eyes remind of the buttoned cell phone, she did not even hear Lia leaving– she left as quietly as she came.

But she left behind a storm brewing in (Y/N)’s mind.

—-------

Despite knowing the consequences, (Y/N) tucked the phone away in some safe corner and drank the water, she was absolutely parched. Everything was too much to take. She knew that Hoseok was no saint, but this made her sick to her stomach. She feared Hoseok but now…now she was terrified of him.

The sky rumbled before her eyes found the window gigantic window of the place– big droplets of rain had begun to dot the glass. From that height, the sky seemed nearer, yet all the more distant– it was just a better, clearer sight, especially when one could leisurely watch the thunderstorm up close– clouds flashing, clashing and the skies illuminating with blinding cracks.

No one seemed to notice, or care, but her. It felt like it was only her– just like her four years old relationship– it was only her there. She was the one making the effort, she was always the one apologising, she was the one making her plans, her schedule flexible, initiating dates and she was the only fucking person in a relationship involving two.

And it took her a whole bad fight and a slap on the face to realise that. It was the worst fight the two had, and also perhaps the third major one in a span of four fucking years– so used to ‘sweeping things under the rug’ and ‘keeping the peace’, she had was, for once glad to let it all out– the bottled disappointments, suppressed anger, resentment, frustration hurt, envy, jealousy– every ugly emotion one could come up with when they had to carry the weight of a dying relationship and when she was spitting the facts on his face, he retorted with a slap that shook everything– the relationship, her perspective, her beliefs— everything shuddered and began to crumble with nothing. 

Noted, she had pulled his parents’ failed marriage in a fit of rage but reacting with violence? Was it ever okay?

Thankfully, she knew the answer. She did not even remember how she simply picked up her phone and wallet in dead silence after he stormed out of the house in tears. She had her vision blurred with unshed tears as well, but she did not let them escape her eyes, at least not until she drove back to her apartment. She had seen her first-ever serious relationship crumbling into nothing and she had no clue how to deal with that.

After days of crying herself to sleep and being on autopilot, her friends decided to intervene and drag her away to the fancy event. She had blocked him from everywhere but she was not sure if he even tried to contact her. Even in the glittering and gilded place, she could not stop thinking about him and the relationship she had dragged on for such a long time, but not romantically. She could not bring herself to do that after what had transpired that evening.

“Ma’am, a drink for you.” 

(Y/N) frowned as the bartender slid a fancy-looking shimmery drink in front of her. While her friends were busy chitchatting and flirting with people they knew, she had excused herself to the quieter part of the gigantic hall, a bar. But she had not ordered anything yet.

“But I did not order anything.”

“The gentleman bought you this.”

Not all drinks were free and the drink definitely looked like it had soaked up a fortune. Her eyes followed the bartender’s gaze and found a man she had never seen before leaning against the other end of the long island.

He looked sleek and mysterious and every last thing she wanted at the moment. While he smoked and raised an eyebrow, she smiled apologetically before shaking her head before getting off the barstool and making her way back to her friends.

She did not know what she needed at the moment, but she did know what she did not need.

As the event dragged on (Y/N) had begun to feel more uninterested. Maybe such high-class parties were more suited for her millionaire friend who had thrust the invitation card in her face. (Y/N) knew that all she wanted was to make her feel better but the event was quickly turning her eyes droopy. 

Bidding her friend goodbye with an excuse, she sighed in relief the moment she walked out of the hall, as the door closed, she was greeted with a silent hallway leading to the exit of the building.

“Hello there” the voice made her jump as she turned around, only to find the same man just a foot behind her.

“Oh, didn’t see you there.” she mustered up an easy smile as her feet remained in the direction of the exit.

The man hummed and assessed her with a ghost of a smile on his face, the tilt of his head had a few strands falling on his exposed forehead. He was an attractive man, no doubt, but she was just not interested. He seemed well above twenty-five, even past thirty perhaps.

“Did you not like the drink, Pretty?” she cringed internally at the nickname.

“I am in a hurry actually, thank you for the drink by the way.”

His lips tilted into an amused smile “Let me have the honours to drop you home, pretty.”

“I have my car.”

She had come with her friends and she had no car, but a cab would always be nearby in a posh locality.

“Oh yeah? Let me walk you to your car then.”

She tried to rack her brain for some excuse but the glint in his eyes confirmed her fears, he knew that she had no vehicle to return home and he was taking advantage of her situation. Even if he only intended to flirt, he was making her easy. 

“There you are!” the loud and buoyant voice startled her.

`

The man cornering her turned around, giving her a view of another man approaching them.

“And there I was, searching for you in that hall!” the new man beamed with a blinding smile before turning to him “Hi Juk, you’re here too.”

“Mr Jung, I did not that she is—”

“She came with me.” he declared, finding her gaze briefly before flickering back to…Juk– or whatever his name was.

She understood what he was trying to do and played along. 

“I was searching for you too!” even if her voice showed her relief, she did not care anymore.

Oddly, she felt less threatened in the smiling stranger’s presence. Juk came up with an excuse before walking back into the hall, leaving them alone. His gentle gaze fixed on her before his smile turned soft.

“Are you okay?”

“Eh yes, yes, thank you—I should get going now.” she bowed to show him her gratitude as he shook his head.

“Ah, it’s nothing, sometimes people here get pretty intense. I’m used to this.” he explained before realisation flashed in his eyes “I never saw you here before?”

“Yes, I came here with my friend.” 

“And you are leaving alone?”

“Yes, I was bored.” she slapped her hand over her lips immediately as the realisation dawned upon her. But it was too late.

Now what if he was the host?

“N-No I mean–I’m sorry—.” she was immediately in damage control mode, but he only waved his hand, laughing.

“No, no, I appreciate your honesty…I’m Hoseok by the way. Jung Hoseok.” he offered her his hand for a shake.

“(L/N)(Y/N).” she shook it with a smile.

—-----

When she opened her groggy eyes again, the room was illuminated with the sunshine filtering through the curtains fluttering. She rubbed her eyes as they began to close again.

Wait, she would never leave her window open at night?

“Good afternoon, Love!” 

Her actions paused as she rose from her bed, pushing away the comforter, only to find Hoseok standing in front of her, dressed in his casual olive t-shirt and sweats. Her eyes widened in surprise, the conversation with Lia floating back in her mind.

But he did not give her much time to think, instead, he got on the bed and pulled her for a searing kiss, never minding her morning breath or her stiffness.

“I missed you so much Jagi!” there it was, the deceiving smile that had blinded her to all the bright red flags once.

His arms engulfed her, pulling her towards his chest as he hummed in delight “You were sleeping when I returned, so I made breakfast for you myself.”

Schooling her expression and keeping her voice steady, she hugged him back “Thank you Hoseok.”

“Oh, no need to thank me, Love. I have been gone for a while, haven’t I? It must have been hard for you.” his voice dipped to a tone of regret before he pulled away and cupped her face “Being locked in here all by yourself. But you know it's for your safety, don’t you?”

Gulping, she dropped her gaze and nodded. He smiled in return before kissing her once more. “There, there, nothing to worry about anymore. You can even go to the garden unattended! But why bother about a garden when we have a whole vacation planned?”

Surprised, she looked up, earning a coo from him as he placed a kiss on her forehead. 

“Like, out of this place? This city?”

Hoseok nodded “Now, freshen up, I will serve you some breakfast. Okay?” 

 With a nod and a small smile, she made her way towards the bathroom, feeling increasingly uneasy in his presence. As soon as she was out of the bathroom, she was relieved to find no trace of her husband in the room. The bed was freshly made and crisp, everything seemed right in place, speckless. 

A vacation…

Lia’s words never left her mind, not even for a moment since she woke up. Did she want out?

Yes. Of course, she did. And she knew that deep down, Hoseok knew that too— she never asked to be here. That was why she was not even allowed to step out of the mansion in his absence.

But the real question was…

Was she safe?

She pondered as she held the phone in her grip.

****

She cursed herself as the thick rain pounded on her back while she jogged her way back home. Had she brought an umbrella, she could have avoided this situation. She hated getting wet in the rain. She hated such stormy evenings overall.

“Shit!”

She cursed out loud as she stumbled before slipping down on the ground, her one leg folding painfully in the process. Gasping out in pain and shock, she tried to steady herself.

Breathe (Y/N), keep calm, you are almost home, you can have a good sleep and—no, not a peaceful sleep maybe but you will be taken care of.

Nodding to herself, she rose from the ground and continued her way home with a limping foot while the sky rumbled unpleasantly over her. She should have slowed down before.

Her apartment was quiet when she entered it. Closing the door with a huff, she took off her now-soaked shoes but gasped when she rose after putting them away. 

There was someone in the apartment with her!

She cursed herself before hastily switching the lights on, only to fall into a fused state of relief and annoyance.

“Namjoon!” she hissed “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? And why were you just standing there like a creep?”

Namjoon chortled and folded his arms over his chest “Why? Did I scare you little bird?”

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) shook her head “I’m not a little bird Joon.”

“Oh Little bird, you are dripping.” he cooed as he made his way towards her.

If there was someone who could simultaneously get on her nerves and warm her heart, it would be Kim Namjoon, her boyfriend of six months. 

And she wondered often how come he was a college professor. At the rate he lost and broke things while managing to look like the most innocent soul with round eyes and full cheeks and–no wait, he was annoying at the moment!

“There, there.” he gently patted her with a towel and yet had the audacity to tease her in between “You look like a dunked kitten by the way.”

She simply sighed. There was no stopping him, she had realised that within a month into the relationship. He was like a child sometimes, really.

“Move, I have to get changed.” Pushing her laughing boyfriend away, she made her way to the bathroom.

“Hey kitten, I have turned on the heating, be careful not to burn yourself!” He called out from behind as she slammed the bathroom door shut.

(Y/N) had met Namjoon in the most cliché place possible– a coffee shop. One moment he was passing by her seat and the next, he was tripping on plain ground and the entire content of his ‘extra-large’ cold coffee was all over her.

Before she could even turn around with smoke leaving her ears, he was on his knees apologising profusely with repeated bows, so much that he had hit his forehead twice on the table in the frenzy and his ID was on the ground, taking a dip at the spilled, frothy cold coffee.

The rest? Looking at them, anyone could have guessed the rest. 

It was hard to believe that a man this clumsy was teaching at a reputed college. She often wondered ‘How did he survive this far?’, especially when he tried helping her in the kitchen.

He was banned from the kitchen for a reason.

When she entered the living room, Namjoon was busy cleaning the muddy footprints near the apartment entrance.

“I ordered us some chicken ramen with some snacks and beer.” Namjoon perked up as soon as he saw her enter the room

“Finally, something good to look forward to!” she beamed

“Oh, was work not good?” His smile faded with a frown of concern replacing it.

(Y/N) smiled and shook her head dismissively "Nothing, just the usual running around. We have some sillies coming in with bizarre complaints” she scoffed

“So, where else people would go if not the police?”

“Joon, there were claims of alien sightings.” She huffed, rolling her eyes as she plopped on the couch “Thanks for cleaning up though. I am so tired.” (Y/N) could not stop the wince when she tried to stretch her legs. 

People might consider that once someone joined the police force, they attain immunity against injuries and pain– the fact was, she and officers like her, were only human.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, I just slipped while jogging back home.”

“(Y/N), how many times have I asked you to not rush? It's even more dangerous during the rainy season!”

He was immediately by her side, bunching the loose gown she wore to her mid-thigh. He winced at the sight of the bruised shin and knee.

“Look what you have done to yourself now.” Namjoon chided as he gently ran his fingers through the darkening bruises.

“I’m a police officer Joon.” she scoffed, attempting to pull away, but he would have none of that 

“So? You are still human. Moreover, it has barely been a year since you joined.”

“A year Joon, a year has 365 days.”

Namjoon simply smiled and for the first time, the warmth was missing “Oh, little bird…I bet you’ve seen nothing. The world now rivals hell.” he leaned closer and placed a peck on her knee “So, be careful what you fly into.”

Although his eyes held a playful glint, they darkened under the light, ironically, they seemed to swallow the light falling on them, not reflect. It felt like she was starring at the eyes of a stranger, a man she had never seen before and—

Ring! Ring-ring!

The doorbell rang, shoving her out of the trance as she flinched– eyes darting towards the unanswered door, the smart LED mounted on the wall– anywhere but him.

Namjoon rose and walked up to the door in silence. Looking through the peephole, he unlocked the door and opened it, while she rushed to cover her legs and look decent.

It was their dinner. 

“Dinner’s here!” he turned to her with the paper bag dangling from his hold as soon as he shut the door. 

His smile was warm, the one she knew– it was her Namjoon. 

“Don’t worry, I will set it up. Why don’t you play the sitcom we were watching last time, hmm?”

She smiled as he walked towards the kitchenette. It was so usual of him– he was Namjoon, her boyfriend. Why did it feel different then?

Shaking her head, she moved to switch on the TV– she was just tired.

—-----

There was a thing about being in the police force. One came under numerous circumstances, met numerous people and remembered most of them. It was a part of the training, or maybe the experience she had over a year of joining the Police. 

The spies, the police, and the military had somewhat of a peculiar kind of instinct– in fact, they were trained to follow their instinct, trained to not hold the gaze for too long without the necessity and to never stare at the back of the head of the people they were supposed to keep an eye on.

The training, perhaps made the observation and the intuition stronger– like their subconscious would note things before their conscious mind realised.

Even after days after Namjoon’s visit, (Y/N) could not forget the moment– the brief, dreamlike moment that, even for a part of a second did make her see her boyfriend under a different light. Even if it was just for a moment, the Namjoon she knew seemed to have turned into…someone else- someone who made her…uneasy.

So, aside from the cases she already was handling along with being a part of a confidential project, she took it upon herself to research more on Namjoon– her boyfriend. He had told her that he had discarded his 'original' surname, he was just Namjoon– even his ID showed that– ‘Namjoon’. But he had been making official changes for adding 'Kim'

And that made it all the more difficult for her to dig more about him. It had not bothered her before. In fact, she had not even bothered to dig up about him, she never felt like he was hiding something or even remotely pretending. He was an unsuspecting College professor– a clumsy, endearing gentle giant who loved bonsai, flowers and everything small and cute.

Until that one night.

It is just to ease my tension. Just to ease my suspicion, it's nothing probably.

She kept telling herself as she searched through digital file after digital file without a trace of anything familiar. At one point, she even thought, why bother anyway? It might just have been the light doing its trick, or maybe her tired brain making up things.

But there was something that distinguished a person in uniform from an ordinary civilian– their reliance on their gut feeling. Even if people might find it strange, the police relied heavily on their gut feeling.

So if her gut feeling sensed something, she was trained to go with it– no matter who or what. She might be an amateur, not a speedy learner like her colleagues but she knew her job and she knew was, at the end of the day, a police officer.

—----

“The police in Busan have discovered a shipment... cocaine.”

There was an emergency meeting held as soon as the station’s in-charge received an e-mail.

“But they are suspecting that it is not the whole shipment.”

“Sir, what is the amount?” (Y/N)’s colleague Han raised the much-awaited question

Their superior’s eyes turned grim as he sighed.

This did not seem good

“48 kilograms.”

The room fell into a tense silence.

“And how do we know that it is not the whole shipment? 48kgs of cocaine is no joke.” (Y/N) spoke up this time.

“Yes, (Y/N), but the shipment was most probably for Gangnam. I had some people working for the police keeping an eye out. Those people are cunning– they evaded the Busan police– I had spoken with the station’s in-charge there and got to know that only the shipment was discovered, not the dealers.”

 He switched on the projector and the screen showed a map of major cities in the country but there were places marked. 

“You see these places? These are the places we have foiled major shipments in the past year.” He pointed at the flagged locations “But there is a worrying pattern here. These are the areas where most hotels, resorts, and other tourist destinations are. And before last year, neither these places nor such a jump in the number of drugs was detected…You know what this means, right?”

“There is a new snake in the town?” (Y/N) guessed.

Their senior nodded “Yes, most probably– you see, this person is experienced, cunning. They know what happens in the streets, they know how things work and yet we get are able to sack the major shipments, but not a single dealer…It seems deliberate.”

“Deliberate? Those cost billions Sir,” Han was right, but so was her boss.

“Hmm, but we have no idea how vast this empire is, do we? It is the underground we’re speaking of, Han, these people are powerful dangerous, cruel and cunning. You never take them as fools. That might be your last mistake.”

Han nodded at his words before he continued -

“For now, we need to increase the patrol. Patrol officers here, keep vigilance and let some officers loiter around in civil attire, we need to keep an eye out for this area, we have  quite a few tourist places here. Dismissed for now.”

With that, the sounds of screeching and pushing chairs filled the room as the officers made their way out of the room one by one. 

“Officer (Y/N), please wait, I have a discussion with you regarding the burglary case.”

“Sure sir.”

As soon as the room was empty he walked up to the door and closed it.

“Sir, the case has been–”

“Closed, I know, this is regarding the shipments.” he paused before continuing "It's a mind game (Y/N). I’m sure of it.”

“May I know the reason, Sir?”

 “This time, they have targeted Busan. It's like a flag of ownership and victory, not a missed shipment. Whatever actual shipment was headed for Gangnam, has already reached there while the police were distracted with this one. It's like a declaration– they have their hold beyond this city now.”

“But 48 kg of cocaine costs a lot Sir, and Han was right, whatever shipments we have found over the months, they cost billions.” 

“And..do we know if those belong to this new…snake?”

(Y/N) frowned at his response

“The underworld, (Y/N) is no stranger to brutality. As I mentioned before, this new player knows the streets. They’re experienced. Do you really think that they will make such an amateur mistake? Not a single dealer caught, no man caught. They are mocking us, making us run around like puppies...But now, I have a name for the snake…”

“A name?”

Her boss nodded before handing her his phone. There was a message from an unsaved number. A message with only two letters.

RM

“So–so who is this?”

“Can be anyone, a business tycoon, a philanthropist or whatever, but a looming figure in the underworld with eyes and ears everywhere. Ever since the last major drug dealer was shot dead in Dubai last year, we have been receiving anonymous alerts on such shipments.”

“So, you are suggesting that this…person has replaced the notorious Don? He was a Godfather, Sir and wasn’t his son about to take up—”

“And where is his son (Y/N)? Vanished, we have no idea where he is but this is not their pattern. We know that. Their businesses are sealed– legal or illegal, their bank accounts were frozen, properties here sealed– the family is not a threat now (Y/N). But this…” He pointed at his phone in her grip “This is. They are a clear, looming threat and it is so obvious that they fear no, nothing. It's like a game to them.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

Her superior sighed and nodded as he took his phone back “It is not easy but I know I can trust you on this. I am forming a team, and I will update you soon about that but for now, we know that this snake knows the street well, maybe they belonged there once. Take a few days off and take a sweep of the street meanwhile. We need to have more information.”

“Sure, Sir.” she squared her shoulders

He nodded “Okay, you can go now, do not let anyone suspect anything until I inform you of the rest of the team.”

“Sir.” giving him a salute, she turned to walk away.

“And (Y/N).”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Be careful. We have a cunning and venomous one here.”

“I will keep that in mind, Sir.”

“Okay, you can go now.”

—-------------

The place looked as peaceful as ever. The aroma of roasted coffee beans, blended with that of butter and chocolate– it was a typical cafe. And the same cafe she had met Namjoon for the first time.  And as she watched the couple sitting across the place, the same seat she had been sitting on months ago, her meeting with Namjoon, her interaction, it all felt surreal. Their story was indeed novel-worthy! Like a perfect romcom—

Perfect…

(Y/N) froze completely for a moment when the realisation struck her– her chewing, her fiddling, even her breathing and blinking.

Each movement spent with her boyfriend flowed in and each moment seemed so…Perfect.

Beautiful or not, (Y/N) knew one thing about the world…Nothing is perfect.

Yes, there were some shortcomings here and there but the meetings, the bumping into one another again…Everything was indeed perfect.

She gulped, then blinked.

No, she was thinking too much. Namjoon was a true gentleman. A man she was falling for, she really liked him. Maybe–maybe even loved him? She was not much sure about love but she knew one thing for sure, her job’s stress was spilling over on her personal life and affecting her personal relationships.

Before her thoughts could spiral any further, the chair in front of her was pulled out and her boyfriend took a seat in front of her, boring holes into her form as he made himself comfortable.

“Oh, Hi Namjoon.”

Namjoon did not respond immediately, he just sat there, staring right into her eyes, fingers folded into a contemplating posture. For the first time, (Y/N) realised that indeed, it would not be difficult for him to take control over a class of even hundreds– he had a commanding presence.

“You have not been answering my calls,” he stated. 

There was no questioning regarding the possible reasons. There was no trace of ‘questions’ in his tone at all.

“Yes, I have been a bit busy lately– just the usual, police things.”

Namjoon simply hummed, eyes still searching hers without a shift. “What are you getting, little bird?”

“Uh…Coffee?” she was left baffled at her own reaction. 

It was Namjoon, just Namjoon. So why did she feel… scrutinised? She was reminded of the night she had seen a glimpse of…something in his eyes. 

“So– what would you have?” her gaze dropped to the menu card in front of her.

“The usual.”

She nodded to a waiter passing by 

“Would you like to order Ma’am?”

But before she could speak up, Namjoon ‘s voice intervened “One cappuccino frappe and a caramel macchiato along with some choco-chip cookies please.” 

As soon as the waiter was gone, he reached out for her hand on the table and sighed “You scared me (Y/N).” his eyes looked so soft and vulnerable, she thought she was crazy. Something had to be wrong with her to doubt a man like him.

“I’m so sorry Joon, I was so stressed about my job I…” he squeezed her hand gently and nodded.

“It must be stressful, right? See, you have dark circles forming.” His fingers reached out and traced the subtle bags forming under her eyes. “But please let me know (Y/N), let me know that you are okay, not too stressed, not hurt…I was so worried!”

Guilt encompassed her as she stared at his vulnerable gaze addressing her. He had been so worried about her and there she was, letting her investigative brain rush to conclusions and scenarios.

“I’m...I’m so sorry Joon, I should have informed you– I was so wrapped up in things and—” she stopped herself lest she would accidentally let something confidential slip out. And no matter who it was, having a loose tongue as a police officer was unacceptable.

“It’s okay, I understand Baby. Just never...” his hold on her hand tightened with a pause “Avoid me again.”

—-----

Everything was settled. Han, her, Dok and Kyong were in the special team. They met up at Han’s place in order to discuss their strategy.

“So we have a layout of the regions where we found drugs worth millions and from different cities. Each time, different location and different day.”

“Where’s the pattern though?” Han questioned, 

“In the fact that everything time, it is a city, a town at least, no remote area.”

“Yes.” (Y/N) added. All eyes turned to her and Kyong nodded “Not yet.”

“So, where do we begin?” Dok asked the much-anticipated question

“ As we know, we are on leave on paper. This is a highly confidential mission. First thing first, Sir asked us to be lowkey. No matter what we need to risk, just don’t get caught. The department would refuse any connection without activities here.”

“If it's a special mission then, why not involve the intelligence?”

“We are yet to receive any message from the higher-ups,” Kyong explained

“So we are on our own?”

“Definitely,” Han added.

“What we can do now is to track where the recent shipment was supposedly headed for– Gangnam. Why don’t we all spread to different high-profile clubs? Meanwhile, tell our informants to be on high alert, especially in Gangnam and nearby localities, even universities and colleges.” (Y/N) proposed.

“You’re right. Shall we go tonight?” Dok proposed

“Yes, we can but would not this be obvious if anything happens tonight? We found a shipment yesterday.” Kyong suggested,

“The weekend then?” 

“No (Y/N), the weekend is just too obvious. If anything does happen this weekend, it might be planned too, maybe to distract us—right–Kyong, your best informants are active nearby airports, stations and docks right?”

Han perked up as if a fuse went off in his head

“Tell them to be active tonight and especially this weekend. We can spread it in different clubs in Gangnam. If anything happens there, we shall also alert the informants and the police near dockyards, train stations and transportation areas. Because if they do plan to distract us, they might be up to something much bigger. Shipment, I assume, for now. We can catch them red-handed.”

“But where would be the official orders? Like, we are involving police officers from other regions Han.” Kyong had a point.

“Well, right, we can speak to Sir, right? He will provide us with the required.” Han proposed.

“Han is right, if this is a special mission at the department level, there is no way that the higher-ups have no idea. And even if they have no idea and Byuk Sir is risking it all for this mission, he has to have some loopholes in his mind. He can manage and he can help us all manage.” (Y/N) added.

“But, wait, we were supposed to just collect information, not arrest anyone.” Dok pointed out.

“Well, not this RM, we can’t reach to such a level by ourselves, but maybe get out hands on this…RM’s men? Won’t this be a breakthrough?” Kyong argued.

“And would alert them further? We don’t even know if this is a man, woman, organisation, or group–we are in complete darkness!” Dok pointed out and he was right.

“Dok’s right. We will only collect information, a full-fledged operation would happen only after approval from the higher-ups, we don’t know who we are dealing with Kyong and if something goes wrong, the whole department, especially Byuk Sir would be under fire. We have to first find out this…RM’s reach and standing.”

“Seems obnoxiously confident to me, deliberately giving away billions worth of shipments,” Han added.

“And we will let them be confident. Won’t take long to turn into overconfidence– one misstep and we can have them.” (Y/N) spoke up and everyone nodded in agreement.

“This weekend then.” Dok reminded.

“This very weekend Dok,” Kyong assured.

—-----------

“Are you free this Weekend?” Namjoon asked as he poured her some wine. 

They were dining in a moderately fancy restaurant to celebrate his promotion as the Department Head. Now he would be responsible for all the inter-section activities and event organisations for the Literature and Culture Department of the University.

“I wish I were Baby, but I need to help a friend out. She’s a colleague, her mother is sick, I need to take care of her baby for a day.”

“Oh, what happened?” he asked before sipping his wine.

“Cancer.”

She hated the fact that she was having to lie to him. But what was needed, was to be done.

“Oh, the type?”

“I don’t know much, it has been rough on her, I’m trying to help as much as I can.”

Namjoon hummed before smiling “It’s okay, Jagi, we will get to spend a lot of time later. Just take care of yourself, hmm?”

“Yes, sure Joon.” she smiled back, but guilt continued to tap within.

But it would be alright. Once she was done with this case, she would make up for the lost time with her Joonie. She reassured herself.

—------

“Okay, I’ve reached, Dok,(Y/N), Han?” Kyong’s voice was clear despite the thrumming music across the floor littered with moving and blinking streaks of neon. The earbuds were incredible.

.

“Yes, I’ve reached. Over.” (Y/N) responded and followed.

“Okay, you have your informants inside?”

“Yes.” (Y/N) replied, as she neared the bar, body language relaxed and dressed up to mingle with the crowd.

She ordered a drink– her eyes met with that of the bartender. They flashed with recognition and he nodded and prepared her drink. He poured yellow syrup over it.

A subtle sign that he was suspicious of someone in the nightclub.

“Here you go Ma’am.” he smiled and leaned further for the final garnishing, and as he leaned, he managed to whisper out “A man in a white shirt, scotch on rocks– corner seat.”

Taking her drink, she turned around and looked around the area. It was too chaotic and dark. And if there was someone, she did not want to seem even remotely suspicious. Fishing out her phone, she connected with another informant in the place– a waitress.

“Man in a white shirt, scotch on rocks, a corner seat. Use a bug.”

For an hour, whatever she had heard had been irrelevant but then, something caught her ears

“Yes, whole forty-eight, the shore, where else? Let's talk upstairs…”

From where she stood, she could see the man, partially visible under the shadows– he was a middle-aged, bulky man. But he was not alone, there were three more people. As they moved, (Y/N) slipped further under the shadows, pretending to be just another girl on call. Yet, from the corner of her eyes, she could see them beginning to walk towards the more private space of the club.

Under the shadows, she was about to stalk them when, with a beep, her team reconnected with call.

“ This is Kyong. We have information regarding a suspicious shipment at the dockyard, I repeat, we have information regarding a suspicious shipment to be loaded at the dockyard within an hour. Over.”

“Kyong, I think we have a suspect here. Over.” (Y/N) informed.

“We have to move to the dockyard first (Y/N) give the tell your informants to stay alert there. Over.” Kyong spoke

“Kyong, this might be important.”

“(Y/N), this is more important, you are alone there anyway. Just meet us near Cafe 18.” he named the meeting point in coded language.

Sighing, (Y/N) threw the door leading upstairs one last look before reconnecting with her informants 

“Keep an eye, bug the place if possible. Also, keep tonight’s footage ready. I’m leaving now.”

—-----

To their utter disappointment, there was no suspicious shipment discovered at the dockyard. Everything was in place. But the people the informant was suspicious of, had vanished into thin air as well– tightening the knot on the case further. 

“It's far more complicated than I had expected,” Dok spoke out, running his hands through his hair. 

After such a hectic night, the four of them decided to call it a day and grab some dinner at a good, old ramen shop.

“This is only our first attempt Dok, we can’t lose hope like that.” (Y/N) patted his back.

“It makes no sense, they are in the CCTV footage but they never reach the dock.”

Wait–CCTV footage!

“Oh right, I think I have found a lead.” (Y/N) dropped her chopsticks and perked up. She prayed that at least the bartender would have his hands on the CCTV footage.

“Really? What?” Han asked, 

“See, I have the recordings, I already sent them to each of you, just listen.”

Fishing out their earbuds, they listened to the part of the recording she had sent them. 

“Sounds familiar? He did not use anything directly, not an amateur for sure but the words, forty-eight, shore. Don’t they ring a bell?”

“They surely do. Can we have access to tonight’s footage?”

“I hope so too. By tomorrow I guess?” (Y/N) prayed what she said would come true.”

“Okay, as soon as you get hold of that, inform us. Han, is your girlfriend home?”

“No, she has gone to her parents’.”

“Perfect.” Kyong clapped his and together.

—------

“Have you watched the footage yourself?” Kyong asked as Han began to set up his laptop.

“No, I came straight here.” (Y/N) replied with her eyes still stuck on the laptop screen 

“That's a good move, what if people are keeping an eye on us too?”

“Quiet possible.”

As soon as Han clicked on ‘play’, the strenuous task of analysing the video began. But four pairs of eyes were far better than one.

(Y/N) could feel her patience waning. The man and those people with him had been so exceptionally discreet, there was no trace of them in the footage even after hours of watching and—

“Wait, wait wait! Rewind that.” She jumped up as soon as something caught her eye.

“What, this?” Han was clueless.

She tasked and took the laptop before rewinding the footage again. Narrowing her eyes, she zoomed in.

“It's him, the man.” She declared and placed the laptop in front of everyone.

“I see. We need to save this picture, take a screenshot Han.” Kyong suggested as he clicked a picture on his phone too. 

It was thankfully, not blurry enough to be unrecognisable, and the fact that they had not reached the end of the video made them more hopeful of catching something else. 

Han clicked on play again before they discovered the people with the man as well. One by one.

“Hmm, there are three more men and a woman. But only their backs are visible until now.”

“Wait!” (Y/N) yelled out, catching them off guard.

“Did you find something?” Han asked as he paused the video once more.

(Y/N) licked her lips and took hold of the laptop. Rewinding the part, she watched closely again. The second man…Even though his back was to the camera, he was too familiar to her.

After a few seconds, they all turned to the side to take their seats. There, she could see his side profile and her legs were fast turning brittle.

“You have seen anyone from here (Y/N)?” she could not answer Dok.

Instead, her eyes stayed on the frozen screen, she zoomed in and a wave of nausea hit her.

Namjoon...

It was Namjoon!

Her boyfriend Namjoon. She would recognise him anywhere– from the way he walked, to his back, his hair and now his side profile. Too many coincidences could never be a coincidence.

“(Y/N), you know him?” Kyong asked.

Yes.

She wanted to scream a ‘yes’ but she just could not.

“No, I was just…taking a good look at them.” she deadpanned.

—------

“Hello, this is (Collage Name) College, how may I help you?” The receptionist’s gentle voice echoed through the phone, but it only turned (Y/N)’s heartbeat erratic.

“Hello, I would like to leave Professor Namjoon a message regarding the upcoming semester.”

“Let me check Ma’am, please let me know your details.” She requested

“ Choi Hana, Guardian of his student.”

“I request you to stay online, please…Yes, thank you, Professor Namjun you asked. Let me transfer your call to the Economics Department.”

“Economics Department? But isn’t he a professor in the Department of Literature and Culture Studies?”

“Ma’am we only have Cultural Studies Department. Literature is a separate Department. Shall I forward this call, Ma’am?”

“Okay.” (Y/N) managed to squeak out.

After a few beeps, another voice greeted her.

“Good afternoon, this is the Department of Economics of (College Name) College, how may I help you?” Another woman’s voice filled her ear.

“Can I speak to Professor Namjun, please? I am a guardian of one of his students”

“I am sorry Ma’am, he is attending the Department meeting right now. But you can leave a message.”

“He is the department chairperson, right?”

“No Ma’am, not anymore, he was, two years back.”

“Oh?”

“Yes Ma’am, would you like to leave a message?”

“Sure, please let him know that…that I would be thankful to him if he could give me an appointment to meet him. It's an urgent matter.”

“Surely ma’am, would you like to share your name and contact?”

“Yes, uh, Choi Hana.” she gave the email address she used for her undercover investigations before the line was cut off.

(Y/N) felt her throat close up and her eyes turn blurry. The park was scarcely populated during the afternoons– thanks to that. But she would still not risk breaking down in a public place. Se ought to hold herself up like a true officer.

Leaning against a tree, she tried to gather herself together. But with each passing moment, her lips quivered just a little more.

No. Not now. Now now!

She tried to school herself. But nothing seemed to work. One stubborn tear managed to escape her eye anyway.

I loved you.

Another tear followed.

I trusted you

Then another.

But she managed to stop herself from bursting into a fit of tears and the scream that was itching her chords with deep, calming breaths.

A drink.

Yes, that was what she needed.

—-----

By the time she was home, the sun had already set, but it was a pleasant evening– ideal for walking home. She was not drunk, or even tipsy. It was just a buzz but it could not make her feel any better.

The apartment was plunged into a tense darkness when she stepped in. Her fingers twitched, ready to reach for her gun at any moment, but she kept her body language calm– casual and unassuming.

“How was babysitting?”

She jumped at his voice. But it was too dark for her to see. 

Before she could reach the light switch, Namjoon switched on a table lamp, illuminating the space enough for her to see him sitting on the sofa but somehow making her own apartment appear threatening. 

With him in it, the place did not even feel like her own. She no longer felt safe with him.

Switching on the lights anyway, she schooled her expressions to that of being pleasantly surprised, even though her throat felt parched. Sometimes, working in the police paid off immensely.

“I was babysitting yesterday Joon,” she replied, putting away the titbits she had bought on her way home.

Namjooon gave her the heart-melting smile her heart had fluttered for. She managed to smile back at him as she made her way towards the kitchen. The delicious aroma of her favourites hit her. Switching on the kitchen lights, her suspicions were confirmed as takeouts from her favourite ramen stall awaited her at the kitchen island.

“I missed you awfully today. Couldn’t help myself.” Namjoon's hot breath teased the back of her neck, making goosebumps appear all over her body.

“Oh, Joon…you didn’t have to.”

“I don’t mind doing this for you, Jagi.” He placed a kiss on the back of her neck as she held back a grimace, keeping her smile plastered on her face.

Her heart stung bitterly as his lips tenderly traced her cheek and the side of her neck. She was greeted by his warm smile and soft eyes as he turned her around, fished out his phone from his pocket and played her favourite song. Perfect for slow-dancing to.

“What has gotten into you?” (Y/N) chuckled, keeping her composure as he led her steps, twirling her now and then.

“I love you so much, Jagi. You know that right?” his fingers wrapped gently at the back of her neck as he pulled her into a breath-robbing kiss.

“Yes, I know that.”

Now that I know your true face.

His lips descended to the side of her neck as he pulled her closer. 

Bear it.

She told herself.

Do not let him be suspicious.

“Then why are you trying to investigate me?”

His voice dropped into something heavy and unrecognisable and everything stilled. But before she could think of anything, she felt his fingers pressing at the side of her neck and her eyes rolled back.

*****

Pheww! It was a long part, but I enjoyed writing it and hopefully, it would not disappoint you all!