#keychain-crap

[kairithemang0]

Lords in Black earrings would go hard

[mephopheles]

when you have nowhere to place your shadow figure at on your desk because he has no stand you choose to make him your honorary pencil holder instead:

(Hes fine with it dont worry)

[roxytonic]

while i'm here should i get a Tamagotchi? i'm a total zoomer but i love the aesthetic and conceptual simplicity of it

[filmcel]

i felt like i had so many batman things to put in my ita bag but this is all i got 😭

[newrww]

it's not useless but it is extraneous.

[spring-dust-sillythoughts]

Does somebody recognize the character of this keychain? Is chicken / duck with a red hat, the backpack says 1998 prestige but it doesn't drop ajy results on google

[hauntedhowlett]

i am not immune to the siren call of mystery item blind bags

[daringdoombringer]

so that post from @probablybadrpgideas about Fae developing a tolerance to iron and metal, and someone adding that they’d loose their crap when in the proximity of plastic.

to which I have another proposal: people who collect and wear lots of pins, keychains, bracelets with plastic beads, etc: would be impervious to The Fae.

oh I walked into your territory and now you want my name? good luck bro I’ve got Freeze Blade in my purse don’t test me

[3liza]

i mean the truth is that we do not need and should not have all this stupid plastic clutter in or houses. no one should be producing or selling this shit. everyone make your own merchandise and charge a living hourly wage to sell it 🤷 sorry to be so simplistic about this but it's one of the results of the lack of class unity specifically in the means of production-owning creative class, who is not mentioned or dealt with by the core Marxist texts as far as I know (i asked about this earlier on here, did marx ever address in his analysis people like, for example, a professional photographer who owns a camera ans prints his own dagguereotypes? or a portrait painter or idk, independent milliner or seamstress? these people all own the means of production and do not employ anyone, and the answer from better educated people than I was that no, Marx didn't mention them), I'm not well read on this at all, there is just a big void where leftist analysis of what modern economists call "the creative class"

I'm getting off topic. my point is make your own keychains in your kitchen. it's actually not hard. you can even mass produce (on a small scale) little plastic crap if you want, with resin and a UV lamp, or a 3d printer, or a laser cutter and acrylic sheets (or just use balsa wood damn, at least its biodegradable and less tacky).

all this stuff is available to little creators AND there are hundreds of people who already own these machines who will take work for you and produce your designs. you just have to actually find them and know them and email them. that's what I mean about the class unity issue with creatives. we have no large scale union, we have no large scale class consciousness, and we're all sending our orders for little plastic crap to sweatshops instead of emailing a guy with a laser cutter in his garage and saying "hey Keith can I get uhhhhhhhhhhh 50 laser cut keychains of this twerking Diggler design I made, like how much would that cost" and he's like sure here's the work and materials cost and tbh it's always always less than i think it's going to be. you just have to do some basic arithmetic and then order shipping, and I hate order fulfillment with my life but you can actually pay or barter with someone to do that for you too. learn to delegate and then factor that into your unit cost. this is basic shit every commercial creator needs to know. they should teach you this in art school but they dont

don't give me crap about "I can't afford a laser cutter" either because I just told you to email Keith. and all these machines get sold secondhand when a manufacturer or hobbyist needs to upgrade. i got a color laser printer perfect for making zines and wheatpastes and shipping labels from a retired lesbian on capital hill for $75 and it was still full of ink. my friend gave me her 20 year old canon dslr because she just didn't need it and didn't want to bother selling it. it works fine because I spent the time finding the right drivers and shit for my computer. and card readers exist. Craigslist. Facebook marketplace. nextdoor sales section. eBay. everyone always forgets eBay. eBay lets you save searches and will email you when it finds a guy selling his vinyl plotter in your city with local pickup. I'm serious

[redcoralpot]

Tougher Than Nails - Mike Schmidt X M!Reader

Warnings/Details: NSFW content, implied substance abuse, alcohol, cowboy!reader, hankie/cowboy hat code.

Summary: Mike goes to a bar downtown in hopes of getting his mind off of court, but instead finds something much healthier.

A/N: Everyone should thank my boyfriend for this idea; he's always the one that reminds me that I am technically a 'cowboy'. He saves a horse very often.

Word Count: 1.8K

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Bars weren’t really Mike’s thing. Any alcohol he’s ever had tasted like crap, and becoming an alcoholic would just be another check on Aunt Jane’s list to prove to the court that he wasn’t suitable for custody. Hell, he swore her perfume was still clinging onto his nose hairs, and all he wanted to do was escape her. Escape reality, too. Mike remembered when his father used to do just that after Garret disappeared, drowning himself in the bitter liquid at night, his speech slurred. That’s why he was here, at a bar in downtown Afton, while Maxine stayed with Abby. He was desperate.

The building was crowded, delightful chatter and jazz music filling the air. Lights were strung along the wooden walls, narrowly dodging the black and white photos hanging by themselves. More customers squeezed in behind him; Mike frantically searched for any open spot in the room. Hallelujah– a single stool was left vacant near the serving counter, and Mike shuffled into it, shoulders tense. The bartender seemed to notice his presence, as she leaned towards the man, still shaking another person’s drink. 

“You’re a new face,” she rattled, “may I see your license?”

Mike fumbled with his wallet, sliding the card for her to see, “Uh, sure.”

“Right, you’re all clear; would you like to open a tab?”

A man cut in before he could answer, and for the first time, Mike got a good look at the person sitting beside him, “Just add whatever he orders to mine, Molly.” 

She shrugged, the key hanging from her left pocket jingling, “Easier for me.”

You chuckled, the brim of your hat covering your eyes. It was decorated with embroidery and leather, complimenting your purple button up shirt, though that was partially hidden by a black vest. Two hankies hung out of your back, left pocket, similar to Molly’s keychain. One was rust colored, but the other was a complimentary gray; Mike thought it was an interesting stylistic choice. 

“I’ll just have a beer, thanks.”

As the bartender turned, scribbling in a notebook, you inquired, “So, what’s a fine boy like you doing ‘round these parts?”

Mike grabbed the foaming beer that was placed in front of him, “I live nearby.”

“That’s not the only reason, is it?”

He hesitated to answer, instead choosing to take a long sip of the beverage. It burned down his throat, the flavor making his lips curl and his head a little more dizzy. Somehow, it loosened his will, and he found his lips moving without his permission. Your energy was just hypnotizing; he felt himself being pulled in.

“Needed a break from stress,” Mike admitted, picking at the glass’ label.

You cocked your head to the side, your hat tipping upward, “Just ‘cause you’re in a hole, doesn’t mean you gotta keep digging. Alcohol isn’t the cure to what you’re feelin’.”

“What am I supposed to do? Not even my medicine works anymore.”

“I go here for stress relief too,” you assured, downing a shot, “but not necessarily for the drinks.”

Your hand hovered over the small of his back, looking at him for consent. When he didn’t move away, you settled your fingers there, feeling a shiver run through Mike’s body. Some of the previous tension released from his shoulders, and he almost leaned back in relief. Many of the customers in this bar were paired with the same sex, unlike most of the movies he’d seen that included the subject. So, he supposed it wouldn’t look too weird if he did.

You elaborated, “People can be cruel, can’t they, sweetheart? Comin’ to a place like this, where everyone’s like me in some way or another, is a damn good bonus.”

“Like you?”

“Y’know,” you gestured to your handkerchiefs, “queer and such.”

He paused, “Ah.”

“You didn’t know this was a boy bar?”

Mike replied, “I kinda just looked up the closest bar to my house.”

…

“Good to know.” Your hand fell away from his back.

He almost chased it. Mike liked the feeling, the weight of your fingers pressing into such an intimate spot. However, he wasn’t tipsy enough for that, and controlled himself. He watched as you spoke to Molly, the lady’s eyes flicking towards him and back, and you slipped her the money needed to cover the tab. You tipped your hat towards Mike, a respectful way to put distance between you, before disappearing into the suffocating crowd. Molly side eyed him, sweeping away his bottle, before leaving as well. Mike swallowed, pulling loose skin from his bottom lip with his teeth. It was now, or never– perhaps alcohol wasn’t the only way, after all. You were right. 

Mike could still see the very top of your hat swerving above the crowd, and he trailed after it to the best of his ability. A random girl almost elbowed him in the face, and he was sure his shins would be bruised after tonight. Your shadow was reflecting in the glass door, growing fainter and fainter as you walked further away, your hips swaying. Mike pushed it open, the vision dissolving, and cold air stung his cheeks. The moon reflected off of car hoods, the only way he was able to see where he was running. His hand reached out and grabbed your arm, as you flinched.

Mike’s ears were red, probably from the alcohol, and you stared at him, “What’re you doing?”

“I don’t know,” was the only answer you got before your collar was jerked forward.

Your lips crashed violently with his; your teeth clicking as he struggled to pull you closer. Mike was still fisting your shirt as you brought your hands to cup his jaw and the back of his neck, trying to gentle the kiss. 

You mumbled against his mouth, “Better not be some experiment of yours, pretty boy.”

“Nope,” he whispered, the aftertaste of whiskey on his tongue.

His back hit the side of your car, and his hands moved from your collar to swinging his arms around your neck. Your knee found its way in between Mike’s thighs, pressing against his crotch, and his groan was swallowed by your lips. Mike whined when you trailed down, aiming instead for his neck. Dark marks and bites soon decorated the pale flesh, his blood dripping a contrasting splash of color. 

Tugging on his earlobe, you challenged, “Gonna come back to my place?”

Mike doubted he ever agreed to something so quickly.

The drive was long, too long in his opinion. Though, it was most likely only fifteen minutes, at most. Mike didn’t even have to walk up the driveway to your cabin; his legs were locked around your hips as you carried him through the door and up the stairs. He ground his groin against you, searching for any possible friction. You tossed him onto your bed, unbuckling your belt, holding it taut. The man in front of you wiggled back and spread his legs to make room for you. You snickered at how willing Mike was, considering his hesitation when you first met.

You regularly kept lube on the bedside table, just to be prepared for when you brought men home from the bar. However, this one was different in a way you had trouble putting into words, other than positive. His thighs shook as you massaged the liquid into his hole, a hand covering his mouth to prevent you from hearing his noises. Ah, now that wouldn’t do, would it?

In response, you tugged his hand off of his mouth, “Lemme hear you.”

Such pretty sounds from a pretty mouth, it was truly a shame. When Mike immediately went back to covering them up, you slid your fingers out of him, instead reaching for your abandoned belt. His eyes trailed after your hands as they bound his wrists together in front of him, almost akin to handcuffs. Mike couldn’t see much of your expression after your head dipped down, only the shit-eating grin playing on your lips. Of course, that was before you took your hat off by the crown and placed it firmly on his head, though it was a tad too big for him.

“Why don’t you keep that safe for me, sweetheart?”

For a second, Mike was confused. Keep it safe? Just what were you planning on doing? He felt a grip on his waist, right before his world spun around him, and the positions were practically reversed. The guard was now sitting on top of you, or more so your crotch, his thighs caging in your hips. Mike’s hair was disheveled and the light on the ceiling created a sort of halo around him, and fuck, did you think he was pretty. Only a few select people had ever gotten to wear your hat, and you could confidently say that he was the most beautiful in it.

You unbuttoned your jeans, letting your cock slip through the opening, “You ready?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

You had a grip on his waist again, slowly guiding him down. You didn’t thrust, didn’t force him to go fast, and allowed him his proper time to adjust, “How’s that feelin’?”

“G-good,” he shuddered, precum leaking from his tip, “think ‘m ready.”

“You haven’t seen the brunt of it yet, boy!” You grunt, thrusting the rest of you inside, brushing against Mike’s prostate. 

The man on top of you moaned, and the sound was so uncharacteristically loud that even he seemed surprised by it. Mike leaned down, resting his tied fists on your chest in order to keep his balance. His sweat dampened your collarbones, his drool smearing on your neck, and the pathetic excuse of a guard tried leaving kisses over the areas he could reach. You soon found a rhythm to your thrusts; groans were punched out of your throat on their own.

Mike could feel heat rushing through his brain, bringing tears that stuck to his eyelashes, covering any thoughts or hesitance he may have had before. That wasn’t enough for it– it spread like wildfire down his body, down to where your fingers were leaving bruises, and down to his red, leaking dick. Something deep was brewing inside of him, nothing he’s felt since his hormonal teenage years. Hell, he didn’t even have time to process it when you kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear that he’s such a needy slut; it exploded.

When he finally came to, he could feel his thighs twitching and your heaving, sticky abs below him. His eyelids felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was stay there with you. You were rubbing circles into his back, attempting to pull out, but a grumble from Mike made you stop. In fact, you were saying things, but it sounded muffled and far away. He took great comfort in your voice, no matter what you were talking about. It was getting farther and farther away, yet still managed to follow him into his dreams. For the first time since the incident with Garret, he did not have a nightmare. 

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Taglist: @cannabrisano @kai_beanz @fandomz-brainrot @slimemakermas

[gingerteawrites]

Your boyfriend is LOADED - Gojo Satoru headcanon

A/N: It has finally happened, my first Gojo fic. It's a short one, but I have been having this thought for a minute now, so I needed to get it out. Shoutout to @lizabeth0329 this one is for u ;)

Most of the time you forget that Satoru's trust fund is probably bigger than your entire bloodline's combined worth. He's just so carefree and light that you ALMOST forget. But not to fret, the white-haired menace never fails to remind you.

Richbf!Gojo who despite his silly antics cares SO much, always getting you little trinkets that remind him of you when he is away, or which he knows would remind you of him. You would collect and cherish them wholeheartedly, either keeping them in a pretty box or attaching the Keychains to your bag. Once, when your friend asked about one of your pretty azure souvenirs, you googled the brand just to check and almost dislocated your jaw at the realization of the price.

"What, that small thing? Don't even worry about it my love," Satoru winked cheekily when you brought it up. "You're worth way more than that."

He is also a big believer in flowers, spoiling you rotten with them. You were so moved the first time he got you a bouquet of blue hyacinths, a handwritten note explaining how they represent the constancy of his love for you, deep and all-encompassing. Now, you are more or so used to his weekly bouquets, always accompanied by either tender love messages or silly doodles signed with his name.

Richbf!Gojo who insists on treating you and paying for everything. It is his duty to care and provide for you in any way that he can. Whether you like it or not, he feels responsible for your comfort. Seeing you struggling is abhorrent to him, and he hates it even more when you don't come to him when he could so easily help.

"Come on princess, let me pay for it." He would gently coax you, hand on your cheek and a soft pout gracing his soft lips. "Please?"

And how could you possibly resist his persuasion, especially when those crystal eyes bore into yours with such tenderness?

Richbf!Gojo who is so proud of your relationship and would absolutely rock the crap out of anyone who dares come for you because of your social/financial status.

"I guess all those cosmetics you buy do nothing for the bad attitude, huh?" he commented, giving a nasty look at one uppity woman who had made a snide remark about him dating you out of all people. Moments like those reminded you that Satoru did not mind stooping down to some people's levels and insult them right in their face if it meant protecting you.

"That was harsh," You commented later, nestled against his chest during your weekly movie night in the comfort of his lavish apartment

"What was harsh was her patchy foundation." He replied with an eye roll, sending you into a fit of giggles.

Money meant nothing to Satoru if he could not use it to benefit you in some way. And whether or not you revel in this fact, you would just have to get used to that side of him because it is not going anywhere.

Satoru please pay for my tuition

Comments and reblogs much appreciated :))

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Dorm Heads - Reader Has A Collection of Items

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I'm still sick unfortunately, but thankfully my migraine is gone so I decided that I should still write the asks that have been sent in. Fun fact: I have a collection of old keys as well as a collection of quarters and Midori (A×K) and Sanemi (KNY) themed items. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

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🌹 I don't see Riddle as the collecting type, so he probably doesn't get the point of having a collection in the first place. He'd just see it as useless clutter or even a bunch of random trash that you keep in your room. It doesn't matter what you collect, he just doesn't get it.

🌹 Now, while Mr. Rosehearts thinks you're hoarding trash like some sort of giant bipedal raccoon, he won't stop you but won't encourage you either. He loves you so he'll let you explore your interests at your own pace... even if he thinks it's weird. If collecting various items makes you happy, Riddle won't stop you, he loves seeing you smile.

🌹 Let's say, in Riddle's part, that you collect standard playing cards of various themes. Ex. Solitaire cards with varying seasonal and holiday designs. Riddle would most likely ask you why you need so many different packages of cards and would likely try to convince you to use them once and a while since playing cards are to be played with. But if you say no he would drop it.

🌹 If you gift him something from your collection, he wouldn't get it but would accept it anyway because it's a gift from you. Riddle would probably put it on a shelf in his room or pin it to his wall, whatever it is. He'll grab it down and just examine it when he misses you.

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"My Rose... What's all this for? ... A collection? B‐but these are— ah... nevermind, what a... uhm lovely collection you have here..."

"Oh! This one is for me? Ah... well, thank you, My Rose."

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🦁 Leona is another person who I don't see as the collecting type, but if he did have a collection I think it would be a collection of different types of pillows. He keeps his collection on his bed and the surrounding floor because there are so many. So, Leona certainly doesn't mind nor care really if you have a collection of items.

🦁 That's not to say that our lion boy doesn't get annoyed when your attention is focused on your collection rather than him. Even if you and Leona were just cuddling and you turn to your collection, you've successfully pissed him off. Good luck getting him to let you go the next time you lay down for a nap with him. He won't. You're stuck now.

🦁 For Mr. Kingscholar's part, let's say you collect little carved wooden figures. Ex. Animals, plants, monuments, etc. Leona found out about your collection before you told him actually. He was getting comfortable on your bed, ready to lay down for another nap when he felt something hard poking him in the side. And lo and behold, it was a little carved wooden lion no bigger than a chess piece.

🦁 Leona will take whatever you give him not without complaint though, but if you try and take it back he won't give it to you. He most likely makes Ruggie turn whatever you give him into a necklace or a keychain saying that he can carry it with him at all times. On days when he can't see you, Leona will stare at the item you gave him and trace its edges and crevices with a smile on his face.

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"Hah? What's all this crap doin' on your bed? Move it off. I wanna lay down. C'mere Herbivore, I need somethin' soft to lay on."

"Huh? What's this for? Ah... sure whatever, I'll keep so you'll let me sleep already."

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🐙 Azul is an avid collector himself. He most notably collected contracts before his overblot, but he also likes to collect little fossils that he finds on beaches and embankments. Azul is certainly interested in the fact that you have a collection and would love to share his collection with you.

🐙 I'll say it point blank, Azul has 100% definitely tried to suggest selling numerous items in your collection. But he tones it down when you assure him that they're not for sale. He'll bring it up in passing every once in a while though, he's still not giving up. Azul will stop if you tell him to, though.

🐙 For octopus wifey you'll be collecting rocks of all kinds. Ex. Smooth and shiny pebbles to small chunks of gemstones. Azul will also contribute to your collection by gifting you various types of pearls of small pieces of dead coral. He even got you a special box to keep your collection in, isn't he so sweet?

🐙 When you give Azul something from your collection he'll shyly accept it and mutter a cute and quiet little thank you. He'll put it on his desk in his private office in the Monstrou Lounge; he makes sure to slip it into a drawer whenever Floyd comes in though. Whenever Azul is very busy at the lounge and can't see you, he'll glance at it every so often between signing papers.

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"This is quite the collection you've got here, Angel Fish. You know... a few of your little collectibles could go for a hefty sum... No pressure, of course."

"Hm? For me? I... w‐well thank you, Angel Fish."

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🪞 Oh, Vil collects things as well. Jewelry is the item of choice in his case; from antique brooches to new-age hairpins. He doesn't mind that you collect things, but he will be a bit snooty about which items are deemed worthy of being collected. Vil will absolutely eye your collection with disdain if it's something he doesn't like, but he won't say anything.

🪞 Vil finds collecting to be a respectable hobby that any fair gentleman should have, so he certainly supports you. He actually discovered your hobby when he barged in came to your dorm to see you and saw your collection littering the vanity he ordered for you. This kind of annoyed Vil, but he let it go when he saw how happy you were.

🪞 In Mr. Schoenheit's case, I believe a collection of feathers fits the best. Ex. Pheasant feathers, eagle feathers, peacock feathers, etc. Vil doesn't mind your collection but he does think it's a bit unsanitary that you'd pick something up off the ground and keep it, especially something like a feather.

🪞 Vil will accept gifts from you all the time, but sometimes he accepts them and just puts out of sight if he doesn't like it. If you give him an item from your collection, he'll likely pin it to the side of his full length/vanity mirror or sit it on the desk of his vanity. Whenever he's too busy with his acting and modeling career to see you, Vil will take a few glances at it while he's putting on his makeup.

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"Ah... Sweet Potato... What's all this garbage doing cluttering up your vanity? Collection? Wouldn't you rather... oh, I don't know... collect more appealing items per chance."

"Where in the world did you get this? Oh? You're gifting this to me? Well... I suppose I must accept it then..."

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🪲 Kalim has a collection too! He collects anything that catches his interest at the time, so his collection is compiled of all sorts of different things. He is overwhelmingly supportive of you and your collection. Kalim would love to share his collection with you!

🪲 Please! Please, please, please show Kalim your collection, he'll show you his as well, it'll be a nice little bonding experience between the two of you. He'll often give you all sorts of random things he comes across and ask if you'd add it to your collection or make a whole new collection based around it.

🪲 For our adorable sunshine boy, we'll make your collection one of coins. Ex. Coins from different countries, coins that are no longer produced, pressed coins, etc. Kalim finds them all so interesting and always asks about the history surrounding them. He's definitely given you coins from the scorching sands so you can add them to your collection.

🪲 If you give Kalim something from your collection, he's absolutely ecstatic! He probably keeps whatever item you decide to give him in his pocket at all times. When he can't see you, Kalim will reach into his pocket and run his fingers along the item to feel its texture.

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"Woah! These are so cool! Where did you find all this stuff? Do you want to see my collection of cool stuff too? It's in my room! C'mon let's go!"

"Eh? OH! For me! You're so sweet! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I'll give you something too, wait here!"

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💀 Idia obviously has a large collection of his own. He collects anime and video game figures; he even has an entire room in the Ignihyde dorm dedicated to it. Idia's glad you collect things as well, it makes him feel like less of an outcast.

💀 Do you want to see his collection too? Idia is very enthusiastic about sharing his collection with you, which is a lot for him to trust you with, so please say you like it or he might cry. He most likely won't try and contribute anything to your collection or really compliment it all that much, he's far too shy.

💀 In Idia's case I think collecting ornate keys would fit perfectly. Sometimes, when he comes to your room, he'll be distracted by all the different keys that you had and shyly ask you where you found all of them. Idia won't ask all that often, but he tries to do it more since he likes the way you smile when you talk about your interests.

💀 Idia gets so jittery when you gift him things, he thinks he's undeserving so he always ends up with teary eyes. He'll probably keep whatever item you give him in the top drawer of his dresser. Sometimes, when he's too shy to leave his room, Idia will dig through his drawer and clutch it in his hand, running his thumb over it.

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"You collect stuff as well? Is it figurines? Do you... d‐do you wanna see my figurine collection? A‐and maybe I can look at your collection as well... i‐if you want to."

"Your giving this to me? T‐that's— A‐are you sure? I... t‐thank you..."

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🐲 Malleus isn't one to collect things, but he's certainly up to observe them. He needs nothing more than the gargoyles perched atop Night Raven College. He doesn't mind letting you indulge in your silly little human pastime.

🐲 Humans are so strange, Malleus doesn't think he'll ever understand them, but Lilia has a collection of human games so he supposes he can't complain. Do show him your collection, he would absolutely love to learn about his dear Child of Man's interests. Out of everything involving your collection, your smile has to be Malleus's favorite part.

🐲 In Mr. Draconia's case, I think a collection of dried & pressed plants would suit you best. While he definitely doesn't get why you would go out of the way to press and dry plants when they're right outside, he kind of likes it. Often, Malleus will have plants from the Valley of Thorns brought to him so he can gift them to you.

🐲 A gift? For him? Malleus would be absolutely delighted if you gave him a gift let alone one of your silly little human trinkets. He'd keep whatever item you ended up giving him in an ornate glass case and would never move it from there. When he can't see you, Malleus will gently open the glass case and observe the item for a while.

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"Ah... such interesting items that you've procured here, dear Child of Man. I wonder... would you like to observe my favorite gargoyles with me tonight."

"Oh? For me? My, my~ aren't you thoughtful, Child of Man. Perhaps I should return the favor..."

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[number-1-kuaidul-fanboy]

I AGGRESSIVELY AGREE.

RELEASE KUAIDUL MERCH, KONAMI. I WILL BUY IT WHATEVER IT IS.

I WILL BUY HIS ACE WITH JAPANESE TEXT THAT I CAN'T EVEN READ JUST TO HAVE A SCRAP OF HIM.

DO IT, KONAMI. WE'RE ALL WAITING.

Production

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Naked Truths (John Price x Escort!Reader)

Part of the Purchase Your Time series

Summary: It's a late night call that brings you to John's house, and you can tell by his appearance - and his payments - that tonight might just be the time he starts to cross that line of his.

Content warnings: Smut (18+ only, Minors DNI!), blowjobs (male receiving), penetrative sex, oral sex (reader receiving), Reader is gender neutral (genitals vaguely described, no specifics)

Masterlist

Calling you on a random Thursday after two months of radio silence initially thrilled in your stomach and sent earthquakes through your hands as you answered your phone.

“When can I see you?”

“When do you want to?”

“Now.”

After confirming that you only needed a change of comfortable clothes before you’d be able to head over, John hung up first - another indicator that he hadn’t the energy to act like a normal person. Perhaps that should’ve set off alarm bells louder than your curiosity, but this was bringing you real insight to who he was, not what he acted like in front of you. The man who yearned for domesticity but hid behind charm and competence unless you dared to offer that kind of interaction in an open palm.

Within a minute of hanging up, you received your payment straight into your bank account. An overnight stay was indicated by the number of digits.

His house again was the location and it was just as you remembered, except all the lights were off and his truck was not perfectly parked. Before you could exit to investigate, the driver cleared her throat before she handed you a key. No keychain or ring to indicate it had ever been attached to a set before. You accepted and thanked her before closing the car door behind you. The slam and fading of the engine as the car sped away left you in noticeable silence, no greeting, no enticement, nothing but intrigue to bring you to the front door, which you knocked out of habit before trying the key. No surprise was felt when it let you in.

“John?” You called out, taking your shoes off and placing them beside a pair of worn, caked in crap laced boots.

A gruff “In here” led you into the kitchen. At the breakfast bar, John’s back appeared in your vision.“Hi.” You slid the house key across the bar, scraping the marble but not marring it.

John’s hand stopped yours in place, “It’s for you.” As you made a mental note to add that to your John inventory, give it its own identifier so you wouldn’t mix it with any others, John raised his short glass and revealed the heavy amber liquid that sloshed about the bottom of it.“Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.” And only then was your hand released to tuck that key away into your pocket. “How are you doing?”

Pressing the glass against his forehead, John sighed, “Been a day.”

“What can I do for you?”

John sniffed then abandoned the drink on the counter. The breakfast bar stool spun as he stood from it. The ice cubes filled the silence with their tune like a wind chime in a breeze.

In one smooth motion, John’s hands – cool from condensation – tilted your head and swept you close by the small of your back so that he could kiss you. The oiled bristle of his moustache paired like a fine wine with his lips cushioned on yours. Yet this switch-up from all previous dates had you hyper aware and certainly to the fact that he was walking you backwards, his palm cradling the back of your head so that you didn’t feel the brunt of the wall when he pressed you against it. Your own hands had latched onto his neck and midriff in the crossfire, tickled by this absence of restraint and annoyed when John drew away with a sigh and an apology. You calmly demanded for an reason behind his quiet “sorry”.

“Grabbing you like that,” was his explanation.

“I’m fine. You wanted to, I wanted to,” You replied, “It’s quite literally my job. I’m like a therapist you can fuck.”

Unfortunately, your humour resulted in John letting out an empty laugh and freeing you from his hold. But you were determined to get a real reaction out of him, so you pressed on his bruise a little more. “I’m serious. I’m hear for whatever you need: hearing out your problems, talking about things you can’t tell anyone else, whatever you want.”

Knocking back the rest of his drink, ice cubes clashing into his teeth, John swallowed then scoffed, “Is that how you see me? Just like any other client?”

“I see you wanting something, and you wanted that with me, which is why you called me. But you can’t bring yourself to ask for it.”

“Maybe you should be a therapist,” John tipped his glass over in the sink, letting it flip and fall an inch from his grip onto the draining board. Even though you’d made the connection, you wished he’d stop telling you to be in other professions, as if that would solve his hang-up over not having a real relationship.

“Couldn’t stand the paperwork,” You approached him, rubbing up and down between his shoulder blades whilst knowing you could never sneak up on him. “What’s got you feeling like this?”

“I can’t talk about it.” And his head hung as he pressed into the sideboard.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t.”

This man with all his padlocks and precautions, preventing you from knowing anything he didn’t want you to – and there was so much left for you to learn about him. But it seemed there was still some learning on his part too. His mental hurdle, with the reminders that you were willing and funded for his delight, was one you would not trip or turn from.

So you hooked his chin and made him face you, “Then don’t.”

When you kissed him again, you let him pull you between him and the sink. Fists in your clothes, desperate to free your skin, John barely drew away from breath – enoughthat his lips still graced over yours when he spoke:

“I’m not in a patient mood.”

You held back a smile, “You know the limits and I know the safe word. Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“Gecko.”

“There’s nothing more to it then.”

Grappling with your clothes, You knew he’d take you right there on the counter if you let him No, he wanted a domestic paradise spiked with homespun thrills.

A risk worth taking, to get him to recognise how much he wanted this, you tore yourself from him to race your heartrate up the stairs to his room, the thudding of John skipping steps to capture you shooting adrenaline through your chest. Fear, manufactured fear that felt just like the real thing, trapped your breath and giggles in your constricted throat, growing tighter with every step climbed.

All air was snatched from your lungs as he grabbed you in the doorway, slamming you up against a chest of drawers, knocking over whatever knick-knacks or trinkets he had out. His mouth was hot on your chest from the second he pulled your shirt off. You found yourself fisting his hair to keep his mouth on you, his spit leaving paths of where he’d given you attention. Fingers dug his nails in like he burying to be beneath your skin. Crescent moons were left behind amongst his scars through his tight shirt as you matched his vigour.

“Say you want this,” John whispered into your neck.

“I want this,” You whined as his teeth threatened to make a meal of you.

“Again.”

“I want this, John. Please. I want it now.”

But still, he stopped, panting and squeezing your cheeks, your chin caught in the V of his finger and thumb. He pulled his forehead to yours.

“Tell me you want this,” He repeated.

Keening into him, your nose dragged you close to breathe him in. You licked your lips, like a wolf lavishing in the blood that dripped from them, cleaning of the kill in preparation for the next.

“John, I want you.”

The same absence of any personal touches in his bedroom would’ve caught your attention more, at all, if it weren’t for how viciously John ripped at your trousers, whipping them from your legs like a bedsheet fresh of a washing line. The ripple effect through your body sealed you close to him, seeking out a solution to the wet problem growing between your legs.

The slowest he’d acted was when he carried you to his bed. Legs around his waist, hoisting you and pressing you into the wall, stabilising himself, he left a bitemark on your neck before he moved you. His hands squeezed tight on your thighs before releasing you to fall onto the duvet.

For a moment, barely a second, John grabbed at his side. A wrinkle ironed itself free from his brow as soon as it appeared. You could hear him supress the hiss through his teeth, hiding the sound somewhere in his chest. Once his shirt was gone with the wind, you saw why: scar tissue on his mid torso, red with recency so not from this last work trip, at least. It did absolutely nothing in terms of inhibiting his desires, his teeth latching onto the skin of your collarbones again. You decided to curb his enthusiasm a little, though not to dispel the swelling in his jeans that was being rubbed up against your thigh.

Your knees were grateful for the pillow beneath them as you knelt on the floor and kissed his belly, your teeth threatening to pluck at the ridges. You could feel how John stared down at you. It pleased you when he cupped your chin as you undid his belt, and you smiled at him while he did his best not to pant at how smoothly yet hungrily you freed him from his underwear.

You sucked on your bottom lip for a second before repeating: “I want to.”

And you did.Scruffing the back of John’s neck, you pulled him down for a kiss, dipping into his mouth to stun him before you pulled away and spat on his cock with a concoction of yours and his. Your tongue lapped at the head of his cock and spread across his sensitive skin, following down the vein like a road on a map.

John’s sharpened breath kept you fuelled, both savouring this appetizer that was hefty on your tongue and his mood. His eyes were creased shut like the bedsheets he gripped in both fists, the adorable slope in his eyebrows peaked in the centre as he began to surrender to you. You continued to seek out his pleasure, feeling him fill your mouth deeper and deeper with each return.

At last, he needed no encouragement from you. His paw-like hand coaxed you from the back of your head, insisting that your nose be tickled by his curled pubic hairs. Droopy eyelids and a softened throat let him take the lead like he wanted to. Your thumb was throttled in your fist to hide your gag reflex, the other hand teasing his . Still, tears began brewing as he stuffed himself into your mouth. Deep breaths flooded your lungs with sweat and salt condensation.  

When John brought you back up and pressed his mouth to yours, his tongue stroked in your mouth like he’s searching for something you haven’t said. You didn’t know why that made you nervous; you had nothing to hide, right?

The pads of his fingers traced down to you, smearing your arousal across your sex. He honed in on it like a beacon and tenderly petted you. His deliberate pace riled you up at an alarming rate, nails digging through his hairy forearm, to stop or hasten him. Either way, delightful as he drew control from you, eyes drooping and mouth agape to free the gasps. Somewhere, seemingly far away, you heard yourself ask for more as you felt yourself building up and up.

“Later,” and John licked his fingers clean, “I need to be inside of you now.”

You remembered, then, that he was the client. So you put your disappointment aside and opened your legs wider for him.

However, as he was positioning himself, John’s fingers dug in and he let out a different type of grunt, more strained than a release.You opened your eyes to find him grabbing at the back of his left thigh, squeezing in an attempt to soothe the cramp that had ruined his stamina. Before you could stop him, he planted his hands either side of you and went to lean. Swiftly he was cut off by a wince with his nose and eyes crinkled. His hand found his thigh again.

“Sit back,” You instructed, and he knew what you were getting at. Let me.

The manoeuvre wasn’t smooth but it got you over him. Whilst you settled into his lap, he had retrieved a condom and a bottle of lube from his bedside drawer. Delight swirled in your stomach at the thought of John buying it in anticipation for a meeting with you, or even just to ease his nights alone. It combined nicely with the shivers sent through his calloused fingertips as he massaged the lube around your hole, finishing the work to open you up to him. Within the minute, he was pulling you down on him, resting your forehead to his, John matching your breathing’s pace.

When he asked, you affirmed: “I’m ready, I want this.”

Controlling your pace, John took things slow to start. All that effort towards your orgasm that was lost began building up, even if it got distracted by John’s hand awkwardly trying to rub your sex whilst you grinded on top of him.

“Not there,” You tapped his wrist to make him move, gripping around it when he met your demands, “There. That’s it.”

A contrived head roll helped you avoid his stare and all its intensity. It wasn’t all an act; you were definitely enjoying yourself. But you had to pad the role a little to make sure he knew that too. You were doing a fantastic job, you thought, until John pinched your chin and forced you to stare him down.

“Tell me I’m a good man,” He huffed.

You did as you were told: “You’re so good for me.”

“Again.”

“You’re a good man, John. You’re my good man.”

He had you repeat it a few more times, his movements getting sloppier but nevertheless determined to get you both across the finish line. His teeth graced your shoulder as he rocked into you. His arms locked you in and you groaned at the prickle of his bite and his beard.

At last, you made it to release. Breathing slowly through it, a smile broke onto your face as it rippled through you. It was amplified by the harmonising noises John made, the feeling of him filling that condom up, his body up against yours in ridges and curves. When he slumped against you, you squeezed around him a few more times – just to be sure.

You leant against his head, kissing the sweaty cowlick whilst enjoying him knead your ass in a slow rhythm of clasp and release – like a stress toy. He was keeping you in the afterglow.

“You ok?”

“Hmm.” His hand found the back of your neck to make you look at him once he raised his head back up, “Are you?”

“You took such good care of me,” and you nuzzled your nose to his, “No ropes though?”

“Told you, I’m in no mood for patience.”

“That strikes me as out of character for you.”

John gave a one note hum again, “Next time, I’ll take all the time I need.”

“Sure you can handle that?”

Confidence returned, John’s slitted eyes sparkled as he smiled, kissing you with his arms pulling you in close, no air between your skin and his and only allowing a gasp in that vacuum when he needed to remove the condom. He delivered on your aftercare clause with the affection he sought himself, you combing your nails through his beard and kissing the flattened hairs whilst he cleaned you with a cloth and kisses. After, he curled up beside you, keeping you close. You’d known you would be staying as soon as you’d seen how much he was paying you, so this was no surprise. You made yourself content rising and falling on this furnace of a man’s chest.Of course, you’d have to roll over once he was out if you wanted any chance to get some rest, but this was fine for now. Until-

“One of the times we were together,” John whispered, his thumb tracing the same arc of skin on your back, “Before I left, I told you about my day plans. You asked me if you could help, instead of if I wanted you to stick around.” He took in and appreciated a deep breath, his grip on you tightening for a second. “Felt nice.”

Raising your head, you couldn’t stop your brow from creasing at his words: “What are you worrying about?”

“Not worried, but not foolin’ myself either.”

But this was what he wanted to be told. He made it clear when you first met: he wanted some sense of a reality he was prohibited from. He wanted to hear you say this, and who were you to refuse a paying customer?

You made sure he was looking at you before you spoke, resting in his chest with your nose brushing against his, “I want to be here, John. I want to be here with you.”

You slid off John’s chest as he shifted onto his side, taking your wrists into his hands and all the while keeping you locked in a stare with him. Intensity darkened his eyes and sent a chill through your back that locked up. Goosebumps pulled you back against John.

“Say it again,” He said hoarsely, “Please.”

You swallowed before speaking, “I want to be here with you.”

His lips lunged onto yours, his tongue yearning for more of your taste and only freeing you from his intoxicating kisses to demand another: “Again.”

“I want to be with you.”

The way his leg notched between yours rushed your heartrate; his hands were guiding your hips to grind upon it.

“I want you too,” He grunted against your gasps.

“I know.”

Next thing you knew, you were pinned back into the mattress and your whined efforts were ignored whilst John parted your thighs and feasted upon you. Any woes about professionality and separating truth from work were forgotten. All that mattered was his tongue and the way his lines by his eyes formed, as pleased to see you undone as you had been for him.

-----------

AN: There's a dark!version of this in my drafts that I'll post later, but also the brain worms are wriggling around putting Price through a Gone Girl situation still sooooo we'll see when that happens. Soon hopefully!

[whatever-imagines]

Can you we please get more Butch Wolverine?! Please?

Merry Christmas.

Literally

Rated: G

——

Logan scratch the back of her neck uncomfortably while staring at the party goers. There were too many sounds, too many smells, too much… everything happening all at once. She craved the solitude of her room; the distraction of you came to mind, maybe she could convince you to ditch the Christmas party all together and hide away from everyone.

Logan’s keen eyes seek you out and find you in the crowd. You’re dressed nice, cute; carrying a bag of presents as you distribute gifts to your friends and teammates. You looked so happy and thrilled to make everyone else happy and thrilled.

On second thought, maybe Logan should just pull a lone wolf card and leave by herself. You seemed to be enjoying yourself too much to have her pull you away for selfish reasons.

As she turns away though, she hears you call her name, hears you wrangling through the crowd, and Logan is equal parts thrilled and worried. What if you try and make her stay? Or worse, join in on the festivities.

“Lo! Logan, wait a sec, I have something for you!”

The Wolverine groans lowly. It wasn’t that she was hard to shop for, it’s just that people misinterpret what she wants, and then she feels bad about not wanting the useless crap given to her.

“Listen princess-“ she starts to protest, starts to stop you, but she couldn’t get a third word out before you toss a very small package at her.

Logan catches it mid air, effortlessly. The wrapping was buffalo plaid, no bows or tinsel or extra dress. With a questioning eyebrow, Logan gives you a look.

You stare at her all starry eyed and excited. “Well? Open it! It’s your present!”

The wolverine shift her step. “I’m not big on gifts-“

“Open it, Logan.” You demand.

The firmness of your voice makes her relent. It’s a rare occasion to see you stand up to her about anything.

With deft fingers, the wrapping was removed, unceremoniously dropped to the floor, and once the small black box was revealed, Logan worries the worst, jewellery.

Sucking in a silent anxious breath, she opens the box.

“A leather keychain?” Logan questions, also taking not of a silver knob looking thing attached to the ring.

“Open the leather bit, it’s a cigar cutter!” You exuberantly explain.

Logan pauses as you continue to ramble. “You always use your claws and I know sometimes you’re in a place you just can’t pop them out, so I got you this nice one instead! And that little silver one is a cigar puncher, you can unscrew it to use it.” You go into detail, moving closer to show off the present you thoughtfully gathered for your companion. “There in this keychain so you can add it to your carabiner. Merry Christmas!”

Logan stares at you intensely. This was… honestly the perfect gift for her. True, she uses her claws mostly to cut her cigars on the road, and if that wasn’t an option, her trusty pocket knife was always there, even if it did a shitty job. This was well thought out and personalised to her specifically. You even got a puncher, another form of to open up certain kinds of cigars. And in a fashion she could carry it with her constantly.

A little reminder of you and your thoughtfulness.

Logan purses her lips together to think carefully about what she’ll say next, all the while you stand there, pretty and perfect, waiting for her to respond.

“Thank you.” She settles on. No jokes, no smart Alec comment. You deserved sincerity at this moment. “I didn’t get you… anything-“

“Well, do you like your gift?” You ask.

She did, Logan really did. She loved it, she loved how the leather smelt like the sweat from your palms, you must’ve messed with it greatly before giving it to her.

“Yes, but-“

“Then that’s the best present you could’ve gotten me!” you chirp, delighted.

Logan wants to respond smoothly, wants to give a compliment suave enough it makes up for not having anything physical to give you, but you’re called away by a smiling and laughing Jean.

Before you leave, you rush Logan for a quick hug, which she reciprocates. The scent of you fills her and makes her almost giddy.

‘Merry Christmas, indeed.’ She thinks idly, looking for mistletoe hanging around and planning on pulling you under it.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Meow (Chp-3)

Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: He had spent an entire millennia in solitude, waiting for her to come back to him, bearing this curse that was a constant reminder of his ignorance, his mistake, and his guilt. He had forgotten how fate had always been cruel to him, punishing him for all he had done, and so be it, meeting her in the 21st century should have brought him joy- there was only one problem, his love for her may not have decreased a drop, but she may love Poofy more than she ever loved him.

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 4.3k

Est Read Time: 21 min

Warnings: death of a major character, war, PTSD.

Rating: nc-17

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Masterlist I Chp-2

"Bullshit"

Sighing for the nineteenth time, Wooyoung growled, glancing at Jongho who just shook his head letting out a dry chuckle, walking "Stubborn as ever."

"You really think I’d buy this crap?" Yunho sat up, rubbing the back of his neck, "Where the heck is he anyway? You guys give me poofy- I  MEAN SAN and I'll let you all go."

"It's almost time." Wooyoung sighed, staring out the penthouse window, watching the sun sink over the horizon, its streaks of orange slowly fading, "Yunho, you may not believe us, but you need to understand that San doesn't mean to harm her. He didn't back then as well." Yunho stood up, walking over to the glass wall, amazed at the view, how exactly did a few hooligans like them afford a penthouse in one of the most expensive places in the city?

"How do you even afford this place" he turned to look at Wooyoung, though he saw nothing in his eye view, "Wooyoung?"

A little chirp caught his ears, eyes flickering down to spot a red fox staring up at him, its fluffy tail swishing side to side at the back, "What the -"

"He's growing weaker." Jongho interrupted him, walking into the room, Yunho turned to look at Jongho who threw something at him.

His muscle memory reacting, with quick reflexes he caught the item, before opening his palm and staring at the keys, the keychain in particular, the golden retriever shining in all its glory. A gift, more like his graduation gift, he remembers when she gave it to him, once he graduated from the police academy.

“Lock the door on your way out, I’m going to my room”, Jongho mumbled, eying the way he had been standing there, staring at the keychain, he could smell traces of her on him, hell, all of them could smell her scent on him, and even if Seonghwa was not going to admit it out loud, all of them could see why San had decided to trigger her memories without consulting with them first. He was scared, and unlike last time, he was not going to risk losing her, not again, but this rashness would bring nothing but the worst, and as much as Jongho loved his brother, he knew the others, nor him, could physically or mentally endure for any longer, and knowing San had been using magic almost every night just meant his condition was worse than theirs combined, which would explain the man’s calm behaviour when Yunho had socked him in the face- it wasn’t guilt the only factor that had forced him to accept the beating, but his depleting health as well.

“Wait!” Yunho called down, speeding walking after the man who went down the corridor, finally stopping at the door at the end of the hallway, he was about to close the door when Yunho stopped him with his foot, “Finish, the story, what happened next, I-

“I don’t have enough time Yunho, I- I don’t want you to see me like this… you need to remember, just think, it’ll come to you…hopefully.” With that, he closed the door before Yunho could even ask what he even meant by that, he was about to knock on the wood until he heard a low animalist growl, a cry if you could call it. Something at the back of his mind nagged him to open the door, to see what was on the other side, and perhaps he would have, but when he heard his phone’s ringtone, his body went on auto, moving towards the sound. Luckily he had found it at the console table, next to a sticky note and coupon, picking up the coupon he looked at the deal, ‘buy one kitty-kat cupcake  and get a beverage of your choice for free’, he stared at the neon sticky note, the knot in his stomach tightening at the feeling of unease settling in,

‘A thank you gift, for letting Sannie go. PS- really missed you, Yuyu – Love Woo.’

.

“Where have you been?” Mingi asked, not looking away from his phone, “Captain almost lost a kidney when he found out you took a sick leave.”

Sighing as he got into the elevator the taller man glanced at his friend before shaking his head, “Yeah, I felt…under the weather.” He said before walking out onto their floor, Mingi followed after, noticing how Hongjoong’s door was closed, he must be having a meeting. He sat down at his desk, right across Yunho’s, usually his friend would be radiating the same energy as a golden retriever, hence the nickname, and the uncanny keychain of his, but tonight he just looked a bit too glum. Clearing his throat he eyed the man, who was busy cleaning out his desk drawer, slamming file upon file on the table.

“You okay there, buddy?” he asked, turning on his monitor, though his eyes never left the brunette’s mumbling form.

“No, Mingi, because I just realized I’m in love.” He sighed, stopping his little sissy fit as he looked at Mingi, who looked like he was about to implode at the revelation.

“What?”

“Never mind.” Huffing he got up, pulling on his jacket, “Don’t tell the captain I came, although knowing him he’s already seen me, if he asks, tell him I have diarrhea or something.” With that he walked away, not even waiting for Mingi when he pressed the elevator button, instead choosing to go down the emergency staircase, it was all getting a bit too loud, his thoughts, the people, the constant ringing of the phone, to top it all off, he had realized how he had not received a single text from her all day, not even a reply to his good morning, so what exactly was he chasing after- when did this become a chase anyway? Were they not just friends, best friends at max?

 Slamming the car door shut he sighed, leaning back against the headrest, Yunho was not one to lose composure, in fact, he rarely lost his cool, but the thought of her- this pestering lingering thought of losing her was bothering him, on top of that today’s events had begun to haunt him, he had seen and gone through hell today; first, he encountered a naked man in her apartment, then he took said man to his place of work which was filled with creeps he called his brothers, a man spoke in his head, he got flung across the room by another man and finally he witnessed someone morph into an animal- the worst part of the situation was that no one was ever going to believe him. Not even her, in fact, she would just laugh at him and how on a normal day he would love to hear the sound of that, he would not appreciate it being directed at him when he was so overstimulated by his feelings and the situation at hand. Picking up his phone he stared at the time, 8.09 pm, she should’ve been home by now, yet, he had received not a text from her, nothing at all. What if something had happened to her? What if that man had done something to her? But they did keep on saying how they never wanted to hurt her, especially the man, San, he was persistent that his intentions with her were pure and- Officer Jeong, since when did we pay mind to emotions over rationality?

He was almost about to go into cop mode until his phone tinged, a familiar tune – a special tune- he had set only for her. Pulling out his phone he stared at the notification, tapping the screen for the message to open,

“Heyy, sorry I was busy today. How was your day? Mine was shit- I want a whole year off. We should definitely go on a vacation- like somewhere warm? Tropical? Though it should be somewhere we can take Poofy, I’d like my beloved boys to get along. Speaking of getting along, my poor baby has a swollen eye, idk, who hit him, or maybe it was another cat? Anyway, enough about us. I hope Gotham is a bit safer tonight thanks to you my knock-off Batman. Again, I’m sorry I couldn’t reply today. Stay safe, Yuyu.”

Sighing he locked the screen and tossed the phone to the passenger seat, of course, she’d apologise to him, of course, she’d take the blame and beat around the bush, of course, she’d make his heart clench, but what was worse that he may have not been losing his mind. Poofy and swollen eye, memories of today flashing before his eyes, how he had punched Poofy, knowing very well the man would have a black eye. Moreover, she had called him Yuyu, she was the only one to ever call him that, yet tonight, someone else had called him that too, the fox guy, and not once did he ever mention his name to anyone there, especially not his nickname. So, the real question is, if it were true, and the whole past life scenario was true then why couldn't he remember? Why couldn't she remember? He kept jumping from one train of thought to another, no longer driving home but to the only place that made him feel safe, he didn't care what time it was, or the gravity of the information that was brought down upon him today.

He wasn't even sure when he had reached the door, until his knuckles knocked on the wood, echoing in the quiet of the night. He knew everyone was asleep, he knew it was late, he knew she was asleep, but he couldn't wait, he couldn't think straight when something at the back of his mind kept bothering him, the question he was too afraid to find the answer of; am I... going to lose her in this life too?

The persistent knocking didn't stop until the door swung open, revealing a tired, dishevelled woman, staring up at him through sleep-deprived eyes, her bedhead hair just adding to her appeal, suddenly the dread that had been simmering within him began to settle down, replaced by a wave of admiration, wanting nothing more than to be surrounded by her.

“May I come in?” he whispered, watching her glare at him.

“It's midnight.”

The statement meant nothing, it held no malice or anger and wasn’t even a warning, but for him, he knew what it meant, she was upset and she wanted him to know, of course she was, he never responded to her goodnight note, for which he knew he was going to pay later, but perhaps he wanted to hear her yell at him too, just till it lasts.

“I know, I’m sorry…I- I’ll make us my midnight special dish?”

Reluctantly, she moved to let him in, locking the door once he was inside, sighing when he strolled inside like he owned the place, technically he did, he was often found here, if not at the precinct, which would explain why her neighbours assumed the two had something going on, until she had clarified to the old lady next door that the two were in fact just very good friends, though she chose not to truly believe her.

“Wake me up once your apology is ready.” Mumbling she stomped into her room, earning a sigh from him, as she slammed the door shut. Poofy snapped awake, his head snapping in every direction, eyes wide and glowing in the dark, looking for her, how did he not notice her leave? Were his senses getting duller or was he getting weaker? Was this because of the overuse of his powers or because he was injured? Truth be told he hadn’t even seen Yunho when he pounced on him, after deflecting the knife he almost lost all focus, the fatigue getting too much- that would explain how Yunho had found him in the first place. He had slipped away before she woke up,  

“It’s okay baby, I’m here.” She whispered, fingers brushing over his fur causing him to purr, muzzling into her palm as she chuckled, leaning closer to peck the top of his head, scrunching her nose at the scent, “Did I give you a bath with my shampoo last time? You smell like my shampoo- damn I should be more careful, sorry baby.” Snuggling deeper inside her blanket she pulled him closer like a teddy bear, he let her do as she pleased, enjoying the attention. Truth be told he smelt like her shampoo because that’s what he used, Jongho had told him to change it but he didn’t follow, he wanted to be enveloped by her scent all the time, it helped calm down his nerves, relaxed him and considering how he was always on edge, he really needed the stimulant.

Yunho sighed, ripping open a packet of instant ramen, and placing it aside, watching the water boil. He had chopped all the vegetables and even fried the chicken tenders for her, sliced them up nicely to decorate her bowl later. They had invented this dish back in their fun days at college, way before Poofy had entered their lives, when he had her undivided attention and affection, though who was he to hold her accountable for playing with his feelings when it was him who had led her own then let go of her whenever things got a bit too serious for him, to afraid to ruin their friendship.

“And now you place the tenders like this,” she smiled in triumph, garnishing his bowl and hers, before coming over to the small table and placing the tray down. He sat there legs crossed on the heated floor, looking at her in the small open kitchen, smiling at the thought of what their domestic lives would comprise together. Turning back to stare at the table in front of him, she had called him over to her dorm at 2 am, their child psychology exam waiting for them at 7 am, yet, he was here, ready for a late-night snack with her, one she had just invented instead of studying.

“Hmm?”  he looked down at the bowl she placed in front of him, smiling at how he had received the bigger one. ‘A big serving for the lanky growing boy.’ She’d always say, much to his pleasure.

“I’m telling you, once we have this and go to sleep, tomorrow will go great.”

“Oh?” he cocked a brow, before reaching for her glass, pouring her some soda, “Because we’ll remember everything for the exam?”

“Nah girl, that we might fail tomorrow, but we’ll have our tummies full of yummy food.” With that she began eating not even looking up at him when he choked on his spit, laughing louder than anyone would want at 2 am, sure, leave it up to Jeong Yunho to get you kicked out of the girl’s dorms for laughing too loud.

Indeed, the two did fail the exam the next morning, but the memories they had created were far better than any result.

 Poofy was almost asleep, blinking slowly at her drowsy form, until they heard a pot fall in the kitchen, followed by a masculine apology- shit, who was that. He didn’t even wait for her to answer and ran out at full speed, making a sharp turn to the kitchen, bouncing off the wall, ready to pounce on the intruder, he couldn’t transform into his beast form, especially since that day, he couldn’t even morph back into a human till sunrise, but that wasn’t going to scare him. With a hiss the cat pounced into the kitchen, landing on the tiles right in front of the intruder- Yunho?

Yunho’s ears caught the bell chiming across the hall, he could hear the quick padding of the cat’s soft paws, and he prayed to God that it was just a normal cat and not who he feared, but once again fate was not on his side, for as soon as his eyes landed on the cat’s swollen eye, he knew for a fact this was his doing. Sighing he placed a bowl of milk in front of the cat, who looked at it then Yunho, only to smack it away and hiss at him.

“Look, I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you last time buddy, but, I- I can’t just- I need some time okay?” he sighed before picking up the tray of food, turning to walking out the door but the cat stopped him, standing in front of him growling.

“You don’t understand San, I can’t let her go…I love her.” With that he walked over the frozen cat, who was staring blankly at nothing, too stunned by his words to even process what was happening, the only thing that had brought him back to reality was the sounds of her muffled laughter, causing him to turn and look down the hallway, noticing how her bedroom door was closed- she never closed the door, it was always left ajar so he could come and go as he pleased, yet here he was staring at her door with blurry eyes, feeling more nauseous than he did that day.

.

Yunho walked towards the main door, glancing at the ball of fur curled up on the far end of the couch, sighing to himself, a part of him telling him what he was doing was perfectly fine, he had no reason to believe or help out these people, but something deep down begged at him to stop, to not give into his ways and listen to the good that resided with him. With one more glance he closed the door, leaving both sleeping parties alone in the cold of the apartment, while he had tucked her in, he left the cat there, cold as ever, leaving at the early hours of the day.

His ear turned to the door once it closed, sitting up he stared at the turned-off TV, staring at his feline reflection, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath once he heard the subtle chirping of the birds from outside, waiting for the curse to lift, welcoming the gentle, warm light of the sun. At one point in his life, he loved the night, the way the stars would shine above him, watching him perform his duty wholeheartedly, keeping the valley safe and quiet. Moreover, he loved how the moon had witnessed the first time he declared his love for her, the moon had witnessed when she had shied away from the kiss, coyly mumbling how they were not wed, thus they could not perform such an act of intimacy. The moon had watched her favourite soldier proudly, watching him with great intent as he held himself back, trying not to fall onto his knees in front of her, to cry in joy at her innocence and pure heart, he truly wondered what he had done to deserve to call someone like her his own.

Unfortunately, as much as the moon had witnessed her favourite being an exemplary creature, she had also been there to bear the sight of her favourite turning into a beast, of him letting envy wrap him in her green cloak, watching him push away the one he claimed to love, the one who had given him her everything, body and soul, yet, the moon still gave him time to make amends, to try to heal the wounds he had caused, much to her displeasure, he had not, both pride and envy being his companions, letting him destroy the plan destiny had laid down for him, leading to an eventual demise of everything and everyone he had loved, holding onto her limp form as she stared up at him with a broken resolve, too afraid to ask for anything, too afraid to beg him, but not afraid of death that was awaiting her, even though he begged her to stay. The moon had witnessed how he broke down over her, watching how even after what he had done, she had saved him once more, only this time, it had cost her life, proving to the stars that their choice of candidate was not wrong, and it was not a human characteristic to deceive or lie, but a trait brought with pure love, one that he had felt for her, but accepted the little green dot that begun to spread upon the canvas of his heart. The moon had watched him cling onto her lifeless form before he lost all control, his brothers lost all control and did the one thing a guardian is not supposed to do, ‘harm a human’, for the moon had witnessed these fools let their emotions take over, watching them disobey her and end the fleets sent to fight them, watching them tear them down, her final straw perhaps was when her exemplary soldier’s claw’s dig into the neck of the emperor, his teeth bearing the blood of his four sons the beast had ripped apart before his eyes, eyes as black as the moonless sky, resembling the hole that lay in his chest, a cavity which was once occupied by his warm, romantic heart. The moon watched him snarl out in disgust, one last question before the head of the emperor was flung across the royal hall, his body falling limp on the ground,

‘Do you still think your daughter’s life was worth nothing?”

That was all it took for the moon to take back her blessing, perhaps the stars were on the same page, angered by this act of blasphemy, turning what was once a blessing into a curse, one that would shackle them down, bringing their egos and pride to its knees, watching them slowly succumb to their end, until they had not only made amends but had repented to fate itself, earning her favour.

He stared at the reflection, sighing as his feet pressed against the soft carpet, glad that the moon was no longer out to taunt him and mock him, but she was replaced by her brother, showing him some form of mercy for a few hours. He made his way to her bedroom, San stared at her, watching her sleep in bliss, her steady breathing almost lulling him to sleep as well, welcoming him. It had been so long since he had held her in his arms since he had laid next to her, felt her close to him- not like a feline, but all his manly glory. What if he just slipped in for a minute or two? Would she notice? Would she wake up?

Standing above her, he leaned closer, his knuckles caressing her warm cheek, watching as she nuzzled into her pillow, mumbling something about Poofy- ah yes, she still loved Poofy, this was another issue, only Yunho being in love with her just added more to his plate. How was he going to handle all of this? At this point, he knew that time was not on his side and even though he would willingly succumb to death, if it meant that she would remain happy and safe, even if it were with Yunho, he could not let his brothers suffer because of him- how were his actions justifiable, if they had partaken in the war, it was only because they had lost their brothers as well, which was only caused by the ripple effect of San’s own action’s, his prejudice and disdain. Leaning closer he pressed his lips to her forehead, whispering the usual spell, making sure the enchantment was well recited to keep her safe and out of harm’s way.

“How I wish I could hold you once more, my love.” He whispered, before pulling back and going across the room to open the window, staring up at the pastel colours of the sunrise, taking a deep breath he turned to glance at her one last time, “I beg you, do not forget me, for as much as I am in pain right now, the thought of my memories leaving your essence will rip me apart worse than death could possibly intend to, even at his peak.” With that he hopped out onto the emergency staircase, slowly making his way downstairs as he thought about doing that one thing he did not do the last time he was in trouble, ‘ask his brothers for help’.

.

Bonus:

‘In love?’ Seonghwa mumbled, staring at his phone, still trying to understand why Wooyoung was digitally poking him through this application. Yeosang hummed in agreement, still trying to understand what San had said, narrating the events of the previous night, this was worse than the mage could imagine, the time of the course now had to be altered, perhaps increased in terms of pace.

“Aww Sannie, don’t worry I’m sure Yuyu is just confused.” Wooyoung pouted, wrapping his arm around the taller man’s shoulders, trying to help him out, only noticing how his shoulders slumped even more at the mention of Yunho’s name, “I mean, he…this isn’t the same Yunho, he still has to come to terms with it and- I bet as soon as we revive the old Yunho he’ll come to his senses.”

“This isn’t about him though, and it’s not about us,” Jongho mumbled, placing a tray of coffee on the counter, and giving each one of them their mugs, only San didn’t get a coffee, he got Jongho’s special hot chocolate to make him feel better. San had been staring at the red napkin, thumb caressing the small sunflower stitched onto the corner fabric, its once bright colours now faded into a duller tone, much like the matted red of the cloth

“Then who is this about dear baby bear?” Wooyoung snorted, at the sight of San’s ceramic purple cat mug.

“I think Sannie has the answer for that.” He sighed, before taking a sip of his bitter beverage while the other turned to look at the man who was staring at a San who was still looking at his napkin, fingers gripping onto it tighter,

“It’s about her.”

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