#like the notes were full of people listing out incredibly common words

[isan0rt]

This post makes me want to tear my fucking hair out every time I see it. I feel like an old fogey but are you fucking kidding me?? THIS is WHY the reading comprehension on this site is piss poor. TWENTY FIVE THOUSAND people apparently relate to "I don't look up unfamiliar words in the dictionary the first time I encounter them, I just guess at what they mean, and then continue just guessing at what it means and if it makes sense going forward'? Without having any sense that that's...a problem?? That that's not actually comprehension of the sentence?? I read books constantly as a kid (many of them old-timey!) and yet have literally never had the problem described in the op because I owned a goddamn dictionary and I looked unfamiliar words up in it.

Like, I understand this is not the fault of The Kids and the schools have been teaching kids to """"""read""""" (read: guess what the sentence means with no real comprehension) like Predictive AI for decades now but like. I'm just floored reading the notes in here that "haha yeah I just know it makes sense I don't know what it means" is an acceptable state of affairs for people who consider themselves well read. If you don't know what it means you're not actually understanding the sentence!! You are acting as a human chatGPT.

You understand why that's bad, right?? You understand why this causes fights on this site and the wider internet, why people attack you because they didn't comprehend a post you made?? When people are just guessing at reading and at what words mean?? Words mean things!! You can't guess the meaning of unfamiliar words and expect to understand the meaning of a complex work!! You don't need to be able to drop the dictionary definition by memory but you need to be able to at least paraphrase or rephrase what the word means.

Dictionary.com is free. You have access to the internet if you're on Tumblr. I still look up unfamiliar words now the first time I encounter them, every time, on the spot, with my magic internet device grafted to my hand at all times. If someone tells me I'm misusing a word I also look it up, on the spot, and correct myself going forward if I'm actually wrong about the meaning.

I'm not also misinterpreting the meaning of the post here, or at least the way it's being taken, because I went through the tags and it's full of people saying specifically that they don't know what a variety of common words actually mean and have never been inclined to actually find out and they think this is a relatable joke instead of a catastrophic failure of our education system.

Anyway if this is you it's not your fault but please bookmark dictionary.com and also take a listen to the podcast Sold a Story to find out how you have been completely fucked by Marie Clay and by Big Reading Recovery.

[zahri-melitor]

This might be a strange question but is there a divide between editing and writing when it comes to comics? I was having a conversation with a friend about female comic writers and I realized that (at least in the 80s and 90s) I can think of a lot more women who were editors than writers. That seems strange to me since I can think of a lot of fluidity between creative and editorial department when it comes to male writers, but I am probably missing some context, and I was wondering if you knew anything about the behind-the-scenes.

Oh, this is an interesting question. I don't have any insider knowledge on this, unfortunately, but you're correct: there is definitely something there.

I suspect, especially around DC, some of it is going to be the influence of people like Jenette Kahn and Karen Berger offering opportunities for employment, and some of it is good old misogyny at work.

Editor is an out-of-the-spotlight role on a book. Sure there are some who are particularly well known, particularly at Executive Editor level, but a lot of the general editorial work, especially at Assistant Editor level, is scutwork doing things that are incredibly necessary but not really appreciated by readers.

There is also the dynamic that editor and editing falls into the pre-computer category of typist work, and thus for women. It was generally expected pre-word processing software that a good typist would just...fix spelling and grammar, and in some circumstances were doing full edits, rewording things to make them more clear, providing plotting ideas and so on. There's a long history of unacknowledged women in academia who 'typed' their husband/father/brother's work but in modern terms would be considered a full collaborator in the process.

It does not shock me, as I started sorting through lists of female editors and executive editors, that a bunch of them are or were married to male comics writers. These three popped out at me, but they're not the only ones:

Barbara Randall Kesel

Anne Busiek (worked on various Astro City)

Alisa Bendis (edited her husband's work under the Jinxworld imprint)

Karen Berger, from some articles I've read, actively incubated and fought for women to get opportunities to edit and write comics. Vertigo ended up being her very own territory and you see a bunch of women working for it. (Also her own pregnancy and maternity leave probably contributed to changing the direction of comics in the early 1990s, but this is not the time to relitigate Armageddon 2001 and War of the Gods)

But yeah, I think the transition between editor and writer was less common for women in the 1990s, because of the dynamic where women were often only offered writing opportunities on female-led books. Mindy Newell worked on Wonder Woman and Catwoman stories. Barbara Randall Kesel started out on Batgirl, then got Hawk and Dove (with Dawn Granger!) collaborating with her then-to-be husband, and has noted that she pushed Karl to include more depth in Lois Lane.

I think it's partly that it's harder to make that leap into the spotlight if you are mostly only offered writing opportunities with someone else plotting, on female-led titles. There's just fewer chances available!

And we see this all the way to the present day: it's still notable for a woman to get to write a run on a male-led book, to the point that we still have titles where no woman has ever written one. Batman famously has never had a woman write a run on it (Devin Grayson has a single issue and one annual), and Detective Comics didn't have one until Mariko Tamaki in 2022 (Devin again has 2 earlier issues, because of the way NML stories were divvied up). I don't think a woman has ever had a run on The Flash or Green Lantern. I believe Green Arrow has had only one, with Julie and Shawna Benson in 2018, and equally I'm pretty sure Kelly Sue DeConnick was the first to get a run on Aquaman in 2018. I don't think a woman has written a Justice League title outside of fills (unless we are counting Devin Grayson writing JLA/Titans).

So yes, basically. Editor is seen as a lesser job (unless you get to the top of the greasy pole and get to be a group editor or executive editor, where you're setting direction for titles, and even then it's underappreciated and the writer gets the the majority of praise/condemnation for the title).

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

Which cars are most bisexual?

Ever get the chilling feeling that you made a grave mistake long ago and you are about to reap what you sowed?

In short, I hit some of my friends up to ask for help. In random alphabetical order:

@jettacar suggested the fourth gen Nissan Quest:

"It's like, no one really bought these. They aren't particularly common. But also, there's no one type of person that buys a car like this. Rationality would have you believe only families are buying this, because it's a giant minivan - but i can't immediately think of another car with a wider variety of types of people that own them right now (excluding cars that just sell incredibly well)"

Unfortunately, that made the conversation derail into minivan talk.

Up next, @rabidragon suggested the Fiat Multipla, due to its peculiar seating arrangement of two rows of three seats:

"3 seats in the front for you and your man and your woman".

Indeed, the peculiar thing about the Multipla is its row of three full-sized seats in front (many old cars had a front bench with some having three lap belts, but the Three Individual Front Seats club is as exclusive as it is devoid of prestige) and the many peculiarities that it caused, like off-center pretty much everything (mirror included) because the driver is further to the side than usual and where most of the centered things go there's now a passenger who would like to be.

But the even more peculiar thing about the Multipla is how spectacularly ugly it is. It's one of the few cars I've ever actually seen that manages to be full-on ugly not just outside but inside. Click on any list of ugliest cars in the world and if it doesn't contain the Multipla I can promise you that list was created by a machine that has since been physically shot. And if you're thinking "Well, it's not bad enough to warrant that hyperbole" - you are looking at the second generation. This is the pretty one. I put the first one and its interior at the end of the post under a read more because I genuinely did not want to be responsible for you seeing it.

I noted that Honda's FR-V managed the same seating layout with downright smart looks inside and out...

...and unfortunately that made the conversation derail into engine swap regulation loopholes.

Finally, @chevyventure suggested multiple. In (roughly) his words:

First generation Mazda 3 "It's a hatchback, good for many different uses - and Mazda is a little silly, charming and off the beaten path (if you were getting a Japanese hatchback you'd probably get a Toyota or a Honda) with a cute lil' smile like a Miata"

1988 Volvo 240 Wagon "Volvos are frequent hand me downs from family like all the cool childhood trauma the LGBTQs get"

[Editor's Note: bro.]

Renault Clio "It's peak hotness while also being cute in its own way, not necessarily preferring a masculine or feminine audience. I've never seen an ad for a Clio before, but if my assumptions about the car market are correct my guess is the normal one is kinda marketed towards women"

[Editor's note: So, I wanted to check that, so I just looked up "Renault Clio ad". These were the first two ads I found.

So yeah. I feel it qualifies.]

Unfortunately, talking about the Clio made the conversation derail into TWR's involvement in- oh wait, you're not gonna know about that Clio variant, are you.

So, many racing series can only be entered with racecars based on some production car - which is great for manufacturers, because they get to advertise their brand and one of their models simultaneously! But since there are rules on how much of the base car can be changed and how much of it must be retained, the stricter they are the more what you want as a base for your racecar is something high performance. So when you want to go racing with a dinky little thing like, say, first car to ever use plastic bumpers and only car to ever be called Renault Le Car in America Renault 5...

...what you are going to want to do is what, among many others, Toyota did with the Yaris GR and Lancia did with the Delta: the homologation special. Basically, you make a special version of the car with the characteristics you'd want in racing, sell enough to clear the rules's bar for "production car" (or at least, convince the officials you've done that), and go racing with that. So Renault did that to the 5 and hit up one Marcello Gandini to redesign it around the changes. You know, Marcello Gandini, guy most famous for designing mid-engined Ferrari-slayers:

Which makes sense, because the Renault 5 Turbo was a mid-engined Ferrari slayer. It was faster than the top-of-the-line Ferrari both in acceleration and in cornering speed. This thing.

(sidenote: The Interior. end of sidenote)

Well, twenty years on, some legend at Renault thought "You know what? We were onto something with that. Let's do that again but HARDER." Presumably, into the headquarters of Tom Walkinshaw Racing, a racing team that developed for Aston Martin, F1 teams, and made Jaguar's Fastest Production Car Ever record holder, and of course a fuckton of the most exciting racecars around, showed up uninvited that Renault madman saying "Y'all wanna work on something REAL prestigious?" before chucking them the keys to a second generation Clio and walking off with a "Don't thank me".

The result was the Clio V6, most notable for HAVING A FUCKING V6 WHERE THE BACKSEATS WERE. This car is genuinely incredible. Like, you see it and you go "Ooh ahh, the Clio V6!" and you look inside to see, you know, the huge V6 compartment thing and you see the interior and you realize this thing cost good sportscar money and when you got in it was a fucking Clio.

Mental stuff- wait shit this post was about bisexual cars wasn't it? How did the conversation derail like this? I swear this never happens. Well, I guess it's time for my pick.

Personally, chatting with Mr. Venture about hatchbacks, I realized that I cannot think of a more "girls car" than a Fiat 500 Cabriolet (which actually is called 500C) and cannot think of a more "boys car" than a Fiat 500 Abarth (which actually is called Abarth 500)...

...so how about the Fiat 500 Cabriolet Abarth?

It actually isn't called that but I think you could piece that together. As though a spoiler on a canvas roof wasn't weird enough, it contains the third brake light, probably making this the only car out there in which it can change position during use. Although I assure you, you're not gonna be thinking about that when driving it. Thing's a RIOT.

But honestly, that wasn't what I started off wanting to answer. So, last but most definitely not least, I candidate my first, gut-reaction answer: the NA Mazda Miata.

See, to me bisexuality (and pansexuality, but awareness of the nuances between them is so low they may as well be picked over flag preference) is someone appreciating all the beauty in the world, seeing no point in gatekeeping themselves out of half of it. And is that not what a spider is about? Is it not about saying "this world we're in is so full of beauty, who would rather blind themselves to half of it?". And look at the damn thing. It's bursting with exactly the kind of joie de vivre one would associate with such sentiment. It oozes enthusiastic curiosity. OwO what's this?: The Car.

Also, just look at this picture.

It can drift. IT CAN WINK. IT CAN WINK MID-DRIFT. I mean, what more than this degree of flirtatious playfulness can you possibly need to be convinced?

Links in blue are posts of mine explaining the words in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

...

...are they gone? I think they're gone.

The Multipla pictures are down here. Go on then if you're gonna, you sick fuck.

If you have dealt with traumatic tumor-related experiences and seeing that dashboard caused you genuine discomfort, well, do not say I didn't warn you.

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

can you write something about the reader being a singer and harry’s family going to see her live for the first time ?

you’re so golden || h. styles

warnings: famous!reader, no covid

word count: 1.3k

summary: you’ve never been as nervous to perform as you were when your boyfriend’s family was in the audience...

This was your second time performing at the O2 Arena in London. The first time was on your second tour and you were sure you’d never felt nerves like it. But the show had gone wonderfully. It was two hours of pure serotonin. Having fans scream lyrics you’d written back to you was one of the most exhilarating feelings you’d ever felt coursing through your veins. And after your first show at the O2, you assumed the second would be a walk in the park. Your nerves for the show had died down immensely. That was until your darling boyfriend, Harry, informed you that his mum and sister had purchased tickets. Now you were even more nervous than you had been for the first show. 

You and Harry first met in 2018 at the BRITs. He’d won the British Video award, whilst you had snagged the British Album award for your second album. Mutual congratulations were exchanged after your managers introduced the two of you. It was only at the end of 2018, after your world tour had finished, that you became something more than friends. And when your fans began to notice lyrical parallels in both yours and his songs towards the end of 2019 when Fine Line was released, they were sure the two of you were dating after seeing so many paparazzi pictures of you on dinner dates and hanging out in the streets. What really pushed it over the line though, was when they connected a sweater you were wearing in a picture you’d taken with a fan to a picture of Harry in 2016, coming to the conclusion that you were wearing his sweater. And, finally, when you were listed in the writing credits of She and Falling, they were sure the two of you were an item. Neither of you had necessarily confirmed it, but you hadn’t made the effort to deny it. 

With the added pressure of Harry’s family seeing you perform live for the first time, it was also the first show of your entire tour. You’d start in London and finish in Tokyo. Your third album had been well received, the fans adored it. And, as soon as the promo and press stuff was out the way, you were on the road again. Which brought you here, sat backstage at the O2, waiting for your cue to go on stage. Your show had sold out, meaning 20,000 people were watching you perform. When you heard your name being called, you got up to head onto the stage. 

The screams of your name lit something up inside of you, a large smile working its way into your features. Your bassist, Delilah, smirked at you. You loved your band, they were your best friends. “Good evening, London,” you grinned, standing in front of the microphone in the centre of the stage. “How are we all feeling tonight?”

You were met with screams from your fans. You smiled, something they never failed to make you do. You introduced your first song as your band began the intro to the song. As you were singing, stopping occasionally to let your fans sing the lyrics without you, you couldn’t help but skim across the sea of screaming people in an attempt to spot Harry and his family. And finally, as the first song came to close, your eyes landed on Harry, Anne and Gemma in the crowd. Harry was busy talking to a fan who was sat beside him. Gemma cheered loudly as you made eye contact with her, forcing an amused grin onto your face.  

As the evening progressed, you couldn’t help but get lost in the electric atmosphere. Joking around on stage with your band and interacting with the audience was one of the many lights of your life. You were eternally grateful that you’d made it; you were doing what you adored as a career. “Now, before we wrap it up, I have one final song to perform. It’s a song I wrote in 2018 after I met someone very special. So, if you know the words, sing along. This is February,” you said, beginning to pluck the strings on your guitar. 

The crowd screamed so loudly, perhaps the loudest of the evening. This was definitely a fan favourite. It was common knowledge that this song was about Harry, having met him in February of 2018. Amongst themselves on Twitter, had made a rule to stay silent during the chorus of the song, isolating your voice across the arena. Something about Y/N and only Y/N singing to Harry. It was sweet really and you loved how much your fans banded together on social media to pull off little things like that. And as soon as they figured out that Harry was attending your show, they were all the more determined to make it happen. And, as you began the chorus, the arena went deathly silent. Your amplified voice rang across it and you couldn’t help but look to Harry as you sang. Like you were singing to him. 

The rest of the world, it felt, just slowly drained away and all that mattered to you was Harry. He stared back, his eyes full of what could only be described as such immense pride. It was only when the song finished you were pulled back down to the present. “Thank you to every single one of you for being so perfect tonight! I love you all so much!” you yelled, blowing kisses to the cheering crowd.

You took a bow, your band following suit. The lights faded and you vanished into the blackness, the fans still screaming. Even when you left the stage, still sweaty from some of the livelier songs, the buzz did leave your body. It took about five minutes for Harry to meet you backstage. “You were so incredible,” he whispered, kissing your forehead as he wrapped you in his arms. 

You grinned up at him, your eyes full of admiration for the taller man. Shortly afterwards, Gemma and Anne emerged. This only left you to be swept up into another hug by the two women, who had become somewhat of a second family to you. “Is tomorrow’s show sold out?” Anne asked. 

You nodded. Your next show was also at the 02. Your tour management team added an extra day due to the tickets selling out so quickly. “That’s a shame. I want to see you do it all over again!” she grinned. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Oh, thanks, Mum,” Harry said, though he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. 

“You ought to take some notes from Y/N,” Gemma added, smirking. 

“Wow,” he laughed. “All my life I’ve known you… betrayal hurts, guys. I’m human too, you know?”

The three of you laughed at his pout. It slowly moulded into a smile, “You were amazing though, love.”

You smiled gratefully at them, “And you weren’t underwhelmed or anything?”

That was your main worry. Harry had been talking about how brilliant your shows were, so Anne had told you. The night before the show, when she’d been round at yours and Harry’s flat for dinner, she was explaining how excited she was to see you live after all of the footage she’d seen of you performing. And you’d been worried for the 24 hours that followed that conversation that she had her hopes up too high for your show. “Underwhelmed? Of course not! You were wonderful, Y/N,” Anne assured you, squeezing your arm. 

“You were so golden on stage,” Gemma grinned, glancing between you and her brother.

He rolled his eyes at her, “Okay, well now you’re just stealing my lyrics.”

[muertawrites]

The Dark of the Moon (Zuko x Reader)

Summary: Late night insomnia turns into a conversation about love, and Zuko makes an interesting discovery about his feelings for you.

Word Count: 2,100

Author’s Note: You can thank Avatar being on Netflix and rekindling my childhood obsession for this one. I wrote this mostly as a dialogue / pacing exercise, but it’s also a bit therapeutic since I can actually relate to Zuko more than I realized or could have ever foreseen watching this show as a ten year old. Enjoy a little emotional romantic fantasy on behalf of a preteen crush and all the toxic friends I’ve ever had. ✌

~ Muerta

Zuko usually slept with you. It started one late night during a mutual bout of insomnia, in which you ran into him as you both wandered the halls of the Western Air Temple. You hardly knew him, but he sat with you and talked about everything that night - anything that wasn’t related to the war or either of your pasts that had been torn apart by it. He surprised you with his dry, even-toned sense of humor, as well as with his intelligence in not only combat but literature and philosophy as well; being a healer and a fortune teller by trade, you found a lot to talk about with him.

As the nights awake became more common, you and Zuko spent more of them together; sometimes you’d wait until you happened upon him in the halls, others one of you would designate a place to meet. Eventually, one of you would go directly to the other’s room and you’d sit, sharing whatever light or heavy thoughts happened to plague your minds. You learned a lot about him in those nights, and grew to feel proud of how far he’d come in such a short time - you often helped others, those much older than yourselves, over months to scale the internal struggles he had, and he’d managed to do so on his own. The more you gave to him, the more he gave back, and it soon became commonplace to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing as he lay in his sleeping bag on the other end of your room. 

And that’s exactly what woke you up - the strange, still energy of your bedroom that indicated his resting place was empty. You rolled over, unable to spy his silhouette under the moonlit windowsill, and you rose, your feet carrying you to where you were certain he would be. 

It was a gorgeous night, with a gentle breeze ruffling the crisp air. You found Zuko in the courtyard, gazing out over the fog veiled landscape under the swell of the full moon. Without a word, you sat beside him, watching the clouds roll by like ships on a silent ocean. His chest churned in turmoil, so intensely you could feel it in your own.

“Apparently, I can’t sleep without you anymore,” you said. “How selfish of you to have problems that keep you up at night.” 

Zuko huffed out a soft chuckle, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift. He leaned back onto his palms, craning his neck backward and allowing the wind to tousle his ash-black hair. 

“You didn’t need to come out here,” he told you gently. “It’s not your job to help me fix myself.” 

“It never has been,” you replied. “I’ve never fixed anyone. All I ever do is listen and recite a few proverbs; everyone comes to their own conclusions in the end.” 

“That’s not true,” Zuko retorted. “I’ve seen you heal. You can do things not even Katara can do, just with whatever happens to be growing nearby. It’s incredible.” 

You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest. 

“Physical healing and emotional healing are two super different things,” you told him. “Emotional wounds can only really be healed by the people who have them. I mean, unless you want me to crack open your chest and poke around at your heart for a little while.” 

Zuko chuckled again, the tenseness of his muscles easing up just slightly. He opened his palm and spawned a softly glowing flame, both of you watching it flicker in the cool night air. 

“I wish I’d been born a water bender,” he mused. “Something that would do good for others. All fire does is destroy.” 

You were silent for a moment, watching the thoughts swirl, tormented, behind his eyes. You thought of all the times you’d seen him smile, how his happiness made his handsome features all the more radiant and caused your stomach to bubble with joy. The memory shot a spike through your chest.  

“... You know, we only ever see one part of the moon,” you commented, breaking the quiet. “Everything behind that - the dark side - we don’t really consider, even though it’s always there and is as much a part of the moon as the side that’s in front of us.” 

Zuko smirked at you, distinguishing the flame in his hand. 

“Reciting a proverb at me?” he teased. 

You grinned. 

“This one’s more like a metaphor,” you admitted cheekily. “That tea I make, the one that tastes awful but makes pain completely disappear?” 

Zuko nodded. 

“I need fire to make it,” you continued. “I have to roast the ingredients over an open flame before boiling them. Without fire, I couldn’t do most of my healing; it would be too painful without the tea to help.” 

Zuko said nothing, but you could sense your words sinking into the cracks in his troubled thinking. 

“Fire is heat and light,” you added. “It’s just as important to life as water or earth or air. Every element is capable of destruction or creation - there isn’t a single one that’s inherently good or bad. The person that controls them is the only one who determines that.” 

There was another long pause, in which you busied yourself noting the different wild plants growing between the stones that paved the courtyard. You listed the different medicines you could make with each, the process calming you. 

“I’ve done some pretty shitty things to people I care about in order to embrace my goodness,” Zuko finally spat. The bitterness in his tone stung you. You turned to him, and for a split second you caught a familiar, rageful glimmer in his eye; the sight made your own temper flare. 

“Zuko, don’t do that to yourself,” you said. “It wasn’t just your father who hurt you and you know that.” 

“I know,” he snapped, cutting off the end of your words. “I still care about her, though. I don’t even know if she really ever cared about me, but I still… I still miss her.” 

Your ribs seemed to cave in, crushing your heart and lungs. He’d told you about Mai many times, and all you ever saw was that the darkness in her drew out the darkness in him; it even hung over you, clouding out the comfort you felt with Zuko and replacing it with unease and doubt. You feared there was no place in his heart for you - not while Mai still remained in it, no matter how badly her memory made him bleed. 

“It’s hard,” you choked out. “I still miss some of the people who hurt me, too.” 

That was all you could manage to say. You pulled your knees to your chest, half-burying your face in the fabric of your night dress as you forced the tears welling in the corners of your eyes not to flow. 

This is what you get, you scolded yourself. This is what you get for feeling things for people you know could never feel the same about you. 

A sensation of warmth curling around your shoulders made you jolt. Instinctively, you inched away, glancing in Zuko’s direction as he retracted the arm that had draped around you. You expected him to look away, but he didn’t - his pale amber eyes instead locked with yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “You hold your head so high… I forget sometimes that you’re trying to heal, too.” 

His words caused your tears to spill, though you didn’t cry; your face remained stony, and no sobs shook you. Your tears fell as easily as water from a cliff’s edge, impeded by nothing but the will of gravity. 

“... The cards you lent me,” Zuko said after a pause, almost blurting the words. “I’ve been reading them, to help me let go of everything I left behind. I don’t think I’m doing it right.” 

A few weeks ago, you’d given him a deck of cards you used for fortune telling. Each card depicted a different object, element, or scene, and were laid out in combinations that gave insight into a person’s spiritual path. You liked them more than other forms of fortune telling, as it encouraged its readers to make their own assumptions and drive their own fates instead of having it simply told to them. You gave your deck to Zuko so he could reflect on something finite, instead of getting consumed by his own thoughts. It was exactly what you used them for, and you knew they would help.

“Why?” you asked softly. 

“I drew a card that didn’t make sense,” he told you. “I laid down the Tides, then the Crossed Blades, and then… I pulled the Badger Mole. The other two I understand - one is for movement and change, the other is for strength in allies, but I… can’t figure out what the Badger Mole is supposed to mean.” 

“Badger moles are strong, powerful,” you explained, speaking dispassionately from memory, “but they’re gentle. The card represents the duality of both. They mate for life, too, so it also represents love and companionship.” 

As you spoke, you felt a meteor crash between you and Zuko. His face fell, dumbfounded, as he looked at you, his eyes darting minutely back and forth as you watched the pieces mend together in his head. 

“What do you feel?” you whispered, part of you terrified of his answer.

“... I feel like I’m fighting the tide,” Zuko replied, his tone awestruck. “It’s pushing me to shore, but I keep trying to swim back out to sea.” 

The corners of your lips curled upwards slightly, your cheeks still sticky with tears. 

“It’s really scary, huh?” you said. “Loving another person.” 

“Yeah... especially when you’ve never known what it feels like before,” Zuko added softly. 

You reached out, tentatively resting your palm against his cheek. His hand rose to close over yours, the sensation trembling you to your core. 

“How many times have you pulled the Badger Mole?” you asked. 

“Every time,” Zuko breathed. “I’m so stupid for not realizing. You make me feel wild and calm all at once. I get this crushing feeling in my chest when I see you or even think of you, and I thought it was just fear or sadness. But… you don’t make me want to lash out like I used to, with my father and Azula and Mai… just the thought of you makes me want to be the best person I can be. Even though I know you already accept me for not being that person.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, somewhat defeatedly, your knees falling away from your chest and crossing in front of you. Your body was heavy, but your head felt light. 

“I love you, Zuko,” you murmured. “But I’m afraid.” 

Zuko wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His forehead fell to rest against yours, his eyes closing as he steadied his erratic breathing. 

“If you’re scared, I’ll protect you,” he said quietly. “That’s what I think lovers are supposed to do.” 

The word made every organ in your body jump to your throat. Lovers. Your limbs felt weak, but your heart felt strong with Zuko holding you. 

Without thinking, you took his face in your hands and kissed him. It wasn’t hard and passionate like you expected, but firm, gentle, his lips pressing to yours like two palms grasped in an assuring embrace. He lay one of his large, able hands on the back of your neck, his thumb tenderly stroking your skin. 

When you finally broke apart, Zuko gazed at you with a soft, forlorn expression. His fingers reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I’m sorry I talk about her so much,” he said. “It must kill you.” 

You shook your head, a soft smile forming on your lips, still red from where Zuko had kissed them. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you told him. “I know some people from my past you’d happily drive a knife into.”

Zuko chuckled, the light, airy smile you saw when he was truly happy spreading to each of his cheeks. The spike that drove itself through your heart when you thought of it earlier was gone, replaced by the sweet warmth of a low flame on a cold night. With him, you were safe. 

“Let’s get some sleep,” Zuko suggested, taking your arm to help you stand. 

His hand slipped easily into yours, your fingers twining together. He leaned forward and kissed you again, his lips only grazing yours, causing your skin to buzz with the sensation. 

“... Do you think we’ll have to talk to Aang about this?” you asked as you walked back to your room. 

Zuko raised an eyebrow at you, confused. 

“He is your great-grandfather,” you elaborated with jest. “I should probably do the chivalrous thing and ask for his blessing or something.” 

Zuko laughed, nudging you with his shoulder so that you stumbled over your feet. You shoved him back, to which he took you by the waist and wrapped you tightly in his arms, kissing your cheek. 

“He probably won’t care,” he replied. “But my uncle will love you.”

[bikerjongho]

thaumaturge | ateez ot8

genre: supernatural, fantasy, action, horror

characters: occult!ateez ot8

description: Eight evil and magically supernatural beings have their fair share of fun and violence as they travel through a witchy black market.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: swearing, murder, violence, decapitation, death

author’s note: thanks to ateez’s new song the real, this was created. this is genuinely one my favorite pieces that I’ve ever written, so I hope you all enjoy, even if it’s a bit a lot... dark. extra kudos if you can figure out why hongjoong has a flute...

taglist: @itsapapisongo @mangomingki @irehlevant @blueprint-han

The airy noise of a flute from far off in the distance met the ears of people in the black market. The sound whispered around suspicious potions, illegal trinkets, and unsavory objects, giving the market a blanketing noise that masked the chattering of the merchants and customers. Although it was nothing more than a musical note, the noise was unknowingly synonymous with trouble and evil.

The flute belonged to Hongjoong, a man with frightening amounts of power and evil in his systems. The flute not only announced his arrival before his physical appearance, but it also announced his seven other teammates that were equally as dangerous and versed in unconstrained destruction as him.

On the outskirts of the black market, a small and dirty child played with a pile of rocks in front of his mother's tent. His mother, a woman greased with sweat and exhaustion, shuffled around her tent of potions and gathered what she could of food. She pulled out a small piece of chicken from a bag at her feet and carefully cut it into two unequally sized pieces.

She hastily shoved the smaller piece onto a graying plate near her before placing the larger one onto another plate and pushing it towards her son. But the son was still too busy with rocks to be bothered with eating, so the woman began placing more onto her son's plate - bits of lettuce that were more than a few days old and lumpy potatoes that looked undercooked, overcooked, and expired all at once. The meat was good enough and the potatoes were fine, but the withering lettuce was more than enough for Seonghwa.

Being the only folioric, a controller of plants and vegetation, on a team of mostly corpics made Seonghwa's power unique and highly valuable. While the others made blood boil and toes curl, Seonghwa had the proprietary job of dealing with plants, and more importantly, the poisons and trouble he could cause with them.

Magical black markets were incredibly engaging and amusing to him, so he enjoyed whenever his team made a detour through one. Seonghwa had studied and mulled over the existence plants and toxins for ages. He knew every potion that had plants in it and had even created his own. He was the root that connected botany and humanity. So, strolling through a black market that had false plant advertising, horribly made potions that even a beginner folioric could make to perfection, and toxins that were wildly inappropriate for their listed job, he couldn't help but chuckle at their inferiority. They were pathetic.

He was dressed like he was a regular customer at the black market, something that Hongjoong had strictly enforced whenever they wanted to cause a little bit of fun trouble. "The best place to hide is in plain sight," he'd always say. So, Seonghwa wore a green robe that went down to his knees. The end of the sleeves were embroidered with gold and black thread. A simple brown belt was tied around his midsection, and he wore black pants underneath the robe. His black buckled boots hugged and climbed up his legs.

This entire green ensemble was meant to show off his knowledge and abilities in botany, though in crowds like these, he doubted anyone would notice or realize the significance behind the clothing. Yet, the confidence the clothing gave him because on-goers did ogle the fine fabrics was more than enough to satisfy his hubris. It wasn't unusual to see someone of higher wealth in a slum-like market such as this one. In fact, it was usually good to see someone of that caliber - it meant there was likely something sold that was of worth, hidden between the utter filth that most sold. But Seonghwa wasn't there for buying.

Seonghwa shifted and narrowly avoided a dust cloud from a grimy child playing with rocks on the ground. There were numerous amounts of children like that around the black market. Families stricken with poverty had nowhere to turn except for illegal business, and even then money was tight and squandered. Seonghwa glanced at the boy's mother who ran her stand of sub-par potions, filling a plate of greens and meat for her son. He frowned at the lettuce.

Lettuce was one of the first plants he had to deal with at botany school - back when he was still enrolled and still had a cent of good in his blood. The professors would purposely let the lettuce wilt in the greenhouses and it was up to Seonghwa and the other foliorics to restore them. The memory made him cringe. The school, in his opinion, had suppressed his great powers and used them solely for mundane tasks. He had found it deeply insulting and was still insulted by it today. He had left the school and learned on his own how to harness his plant abilities to the fullest. In school, it had been a challenge to revive the lettuce that the teachers set out in the greenhouse. Now, he could be yards away and completely change the chemical biology of the lettuce with a lazy wave of his hand.

Seonghwa flicked his hand, and the lettuce winked at him.

"Lunch," the mother said to her son and pulled him to his feet, picking the rocks out of his hands and throwing them to the ground. She tried her best to dust him off and wash his hands with water, but most of the grime wouldn't come off. Seonghwa walked away as the mother handed the plate to her son, who began eating like he had never seen food before.

Seonghwa put his hands in his pockets. A glimmer of a smirk appeared on his face when he heard the child thud to the ground behind him, and the mother's subsequent scream.

Wooyoung trailed in behind Seonghwa, but the two acted like they didn't know each other, not sparing any glances or gestures at each other. He slid by the child that Seonghwa had killed while the mother's broken sobs rattled his eardrums. This team of evils, the eight of them, were journeying to a different city to buy rare botanical and medical supplies, the reason why they were cutting through this market.

"Instead of going around, we can cut though this black market," Hongjoong had announced only hours before and was met with joyous hoots and hollers. "Black market" was synonymous with fun - it allowed for the boys to cause behind the scenes trouble to people that they didn't care about or would ever meet again. Jongho had called it a warm-up for their powers and was met with agreement and laughter.

Wooyoung went in a different direction than Seonghwa, who was still strolling through stands of botany and stacks of medical potions. While Seonghwa was a folioric, Wooyoung was a corpic. Corpics, the broad term used to describe people that could manipulate the human body, were by far the most common variety of occult people. No one was truly sure why - but it showed in the fact that six out of eight members of the team were of this variety. Further categorized, Wooyoung, and also Hongjoong, Jongho, Mingi, and San, were spirabics, a subset of corpics that specifically dealt with living human bodies and feelings.

Wooyoung dealt with bones. Bending, breaking, and general manipulation of bones was his talent that had been bestowed to him at birth. Similar to Seonghwa, Wooyoung had been taught at school how to use his power for good, such as repairing fractured bones, but had quickly lost interest and dropped out when he realized his true potential.

Though, dropped out wasn't the correct word. This occult school did everything in their power to keep students from dropping out - they knew the merit and the sheer responsibility of the powers their students had. Using it for unrestrained evil was their worst fear. Wooyoung had deserted the school after two months of enrollment and then broke the spines of the teachers and guards that had gone to retrieve him when they realized he had deserted.

Wooyoung took a different route than Seonghwa not just because they wanted to be separated, but also because he was bored to death with plants. The area he strolled by was far more interesting - a small woman with a tight face manned a stand that claimed to sell human hearts and organs. On the stand next to her, full fingers, hands, and skeletons were on display like jewelry would be in a jewelry store.

He stared at the skeletons with his hands behind his back. He was aware of the stares because like Seonghwa, he was dressed in fine fabrics - blue instead of green - but he elected to ignore them. The stares also could have been for his peculiar interest in the skeletons.

"They're real," the shopkeeper told him flatly, and Wooyoung had to keep a straight face. None of the bones were real.

"They're gorgeous," he said, and then realized how odd that sounded. "For bones, I mean. You keep them cleaned and polished." But Wooyoung knew well that real bones could never be as white as the ones in front of him. He showed off a smile and nodded his head.

"Have a nice day," he said, and as the shopkeeper turned away, Wooyoung clenched his hand and snapped the shopkeeper's tibia. He strolled away with a smile as the man howled with pain, and the customers that were eyeing Wooyoung's clothes dove like hungry piranhas to steal the worthless and fake bones off of the stand. There wasn't any real reason why Wooyoung had broken his bone - it was just a fun activity to do in a market of strangers that had no impact on his life.

The flautist and San entered the black market as a pair soon after. Hongjoong, dressed in a shade of blue similar to Wooyoung's and flute strapped onto his side, strode by the mess of a mother Seonghwa had made and what was left of the bone stand. "I see they've done their job," Hongjoong yawned to his dark-haired friend. San grinned.

"No bones about it," he said, and Hongjoong gave him a look that could cut steel. San was dressed similarly to Hongjoong - a darker blue color, but the same fitted robe and high black boots. Hongjoong and San, like Wooyoung, were spirabics. Many thought that Hongjoong's flute that never left his side was a part of his magical ensemble, but that wasn't the truth. Hongjoong could raise levels of pain so that a paper cut felt like a heart attack. Sometimes his flute was a part of his sorcery - blowing a high note next to someone's ear and raising the pain was fun - but in truth, the flute was an elegant accessory given to him by his mentor before he passed away years ago.

San, in his smoldering and smirking glory, manipulated blood inside of humans. He could make blood clot or stop flowing or flow out of a body like a raging waterfall. He could make it boil like he was preparing a delicious vat of spaghetti. In many ways, he was one of Hongjoong's most coveted teammates, not only for his incredible power, but because of how useful he was when partnered with Hongjoong. So when San proposed the idea of working together to spread trouble throughout the market, Hongjoong couldn't refuse his offer.

"Who should we do?" San asked, hands behind his back and eyes flickering around the market and its sellers. San had been one of the first to accept Hongjoong's offer of making a team, and was therefore one of the most experienced and capable of their group. But he was also one of the most angry and dastardly ones. Hongjoong had seen the full extent of what San could do with years of being around him. Hongjoong knew better than to make him upset and laughed at those that did.

Hongjoong also eyed up some of their potential victims. Many of the sellers looked the same - sunken eyes, old and dirty clothing, and even dirtier intentions hidden in their hands and goods - but one stood out to him. Hongjoong nodded his head to a man that was a few stands down from where they were. "Him."

The man was considerably a different variety than most other sellers in the market. Besides wearing clothing that was close to the pricing of Hongjoong's and San's outfits, he sold considerable botany that even Seonghwa would look at and fine jewelry that both of them knew better than to touch. He was a gem in the midst of trash, and Hongjoong knew nothing would make him happier than to knock him down a few pegs.

San smiled at Hongjoong's choice. "A rich boy," he said, quirking his eyebrows. "Why?"

"I don't like how he carries himself, thinking that he's better than everyone else in this market," Hongjoong said flatly, eyeing him with suspicion. "He reminds me of me."

San chuckled. "Then, let's not hold back." He sauntered over to the seller with alluring eyes and struck up a conversation. Hongjoong couldn't hear exactly of what words were being exchanged, but it was clearly an engaging talk with how the seller's stance turned from tense and alert to relaxed and easy-going. He must have thought San was going to rob him as he approached. He should have been more wise. San was a vampire of the worst kind.

"The king just simply cannot have all of this stuff lying around," the merchant was laughing to San while Hongjoong slid up next to him. "Oh? A friend of yours?" He asked, looking at Hongjoong up and down.

"A friend indeed," Hongjoong said to him. He struggled to read San's face, because now it had changed. San had been engaged in the conversation, Hongjoong could tell even from far away, but now his demeanor had fallen. There was a hint of rage hidden behind his eyes, and Hongjoong knew exactly why.

San had once been a healer of sorts for a royal family. Almost every member, from the queen to her youngest son, were anemic, and it was up to San to regulate their blood at all times. But he quarreled with the king frequently, who thought San was doing a less-than-ideal job at helping his family with their condition. It wasn't until the youngest son died because of his anemia did the king react violently to San and threatened to fire him. But San had reacted back equally as violent - stopping blood flow to his heart and giving the king a heart attack as they fought in the throne room. The palace had revived him with another spirabic, but the damage was done and San's reputation was ruined. San fled the castle before the king could awaken and accuse him of an attempted assassination.

Hongjoong knew of his backstory and had spared no time in recruiting him. After all, the news of a defective royal spirabic spread like fire, and the flames had interested him.

But standing with this merchant, he had to applaud San for his restraint to not blow the head off of the royal merchant. Perhaps the prospect of blowing it off later with Hongjoong is what kept him only simmering. It was another mystery as to how the merchant didn't even recognize San. Hongjoong decided to not complain about the luck they had.

"Ah, the blessed kingdom?" San said, putting on a shining smile that Hongjoong almost believed. "Why must the king go here to sell things? Is he not content with the riches he has?" The merchant was shocked at San's boldness, but San's laugh that came after was so hearty that he joined in.

"I'm not sure why he wants to sell these trinkets here," the merchant said. "But it's what His Highness requests, so I oblige." San nodded his head and gave a soft smile. Hongjoong wasn't sure what rage or anger he had boiling his blood, but he was sure that San was done with being nice to a royal family kiss-ass. He gave a look to San, who was glad to reciprocate it.

Hongjoong shoved the merchant's table forward. All of the contents on the table shuddered and remained on the table, but the table hit the merchant's leg. "Oops," Hongjoong shrugged while the merchant furrowed his brow and rubbed his leg. "You're okay, right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," the merchant said, ruffled, and Hongjoong clenched his fist from inside his pocket. He could immediately see the pain rise like an enormous wave behind the merchant's eyes. He cringed with pain but still managed to stand. It wasn't in Hongjoong's interest to make him scream - he gave that privilege and right to San.

And San was more than ready. San's hand moved and the merchant furrowed his eyebrows even more. "Is everything okay?" San asked with a smile as the merchant's eyes began to twitch. He looked back and forth between Hongjoong and San like they had something to do with his pain, but ultimately focused back to his leg. Hongjoong wasn't sure what San had done, but it seemed slow and painful.

"Not really," the merchant said, wincing. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said before limping into his stand's back area. San flicked his hand again and the merchant whimpered from behind the stand's back curtain. Almost immediately, a band of small children rushed in front of them and stole the rare plants off of the merchant's now vacant table.

"What did you do?" Hongjoong asked as he helped put the botany into the children's bags.

"I cut off blood flow in his left leg only," San said simply. His mouth quirked upward. "Or you could say, I blocked an artery. If he's fast enough, he might be able to have surgery to fix it. If he doesn't..."

"Death," Hongjoong finished, and San could only nod.

"Or amputation. I'm not sure how good the court spirabics are anymore. I don't care, either way." San gave a smile and waved for Hongjoong to follow him further into the market, his anger now behind him. A third party was hurt, and only half of the team was present in the market.

Another blue-robed man strolled into the market, but he was flanked by a man in grey. Mingi and Yeosang were the next of their group to enter the black market. Yeosang, the one clothed in grey, was a corpic like many of the others on their team. But he wasn't a spirabic, he was a cerebric, a special classification for corpics that dealt with the mind rather than the body. He could manipulate and damage the minds of anyone so long as he touched them. Yeosang's eyes, which had anything but mindlessness in them, flickered back and forth at different merchants in the black market like he was sizing up his victims.

Mingi, the taller and blue-robed one, was a spirabic. But in many ways, he was closer to Yeosang's power than any of the other spirabics in his team. Mingi could manipulate feelings and spike hormones on a switch. And while he didn't directly deal with the mind, he could still make anyone lose their mind if he added enough adrenaline to their body.

But while the two of them had powers that were very similar, they had drastically different backgrounds. Yeosang was a rarer breed of occult that was classified as dangerous by most schools that taught occult students. Hence, he was barred from most schools and didn't bother trying to convince them otherwise. There wasn't a good bone in his body and fellow occultists had made sure of that.

While Mingi, like many of the other spirabics on the team, had tried occult school. Mingi had learned how to lower adrenaline and calm anxiety. He had been the cure for marital problems and the savior for depression. But he had quickly learned it was infinitely more rewarding to cause pain and chaos rather than healing.

"This place is a dump," Yeosang scoffed as they weaved through the endless paths of the market. "Truly, people have lost their minds even without our help. Their products are shit."

"Less of a market and more of a dump," Mingi replied and walked by a little girl standing near a stand. She burst into tears. Yeosang was mildly amused.

Just as Yeosang was about to glance at a stand's contents, a running customer rammed into Yeosang's shoulder without warning. Neither Mingi nor Yeosang seemed too worried - in fact, a smile grew on Yeosang's face. He turned around stared at the customer while he kept running.

Almost immediately, the man stopped running and began screaming, hopping and clutching his feet like he had stepped on a thousand spikes barefoot. "Lava!" He howled before diving directly into a nearby stand, and Yeosang had to bite his lip to not burst into laughter as the stand's owner began yelling and swearing at the man who was saving himself from lava.

"Don't bump into me, next time," Yeosang murmured under his breath as a group of young men started a fist fight as Mingi strolled by them. Mingi held up his hands by his face and circled around the fight like he was surprised by this sudden confrontation.

"I'll say it again, this has got to be one of the most disgusting markets I've ever walked in," Mingi muttered when he and Yeosang were clear of the fight he had evoked. "But I guess that makes things more fun."

Yeosang nodded, side-stepping a man who was moaning for medical help and clutching his ankle. "Who should we really have fun with?"

The two surveyed the crowd of people around them, from dirty merchants to buyers with large inheritances to families with six children. There was a large variety to pick from, and Mingi was going to suggest doing a usual mind warp of a random merchant when Yeosang nudged him and nodded towards a young girl standing by a stand, paying no attention to the objects sold at the stand.

Her focus was only on the boy selling the items at the stand. Any blind person could see that she was madly in love. With how her body was only moments away from turning into a pile of mush and her eyes were physically in the shape of hearts, Yeosang and Mingi almost felt pity for her - the guy that she was in love with gave her no attention. His attention switched from a small amount of cash in his hands to the strange purple and green bottles on the table in front of him, like the girl wasn't even there.

"Playing matchmaker, are we?" Yeosang smirked at Mingi.

"Perhaps at first," Mingi murmured, walking closer to them so he could see his handiwork more clearly. "But you'll make sure that's not the end result." He pulled his hand from his pocket and waved it, a gesture seemingly innocent and regular.

The boy dropped the money in his hands and looked at the girl with a new appreciation, and the girl was startled by the sudden interest. Yeosang had to stifle a laugh as he nudged by the boy and got his own magic to work.

"... you're so beautiful," the guy was saying like he and the girl were alone in the market. "Truly a sight. Forgive my forwardness, but I have a small sum of money. Could I go to dinner with you and spend it all?"

The girl was a frantic and blushing mess. "Of course," she hummed, grabbing his hands and holding them close to her chest.

"They're gonna kiss," Mingi said and hastily put on a pair of sunglasses.

"And those sunglasses will save your sight?" Yeosang murmured as the two lovers locked lips right in front of them. Mingi's eyes weren't visible anymore, but his mouth was in a prominent frown. Public affection was apparently the price to pay for evil deeds.

"What exactly did you do?" Mingi muttered again, only seeing his own magic working. "We're playing Cupid rather than mind-fucking magicians."

"Watch," Yeosang said, and Mingi closed his mouth.

The new couple was now enwrapped in each other's arms like they were puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly. The boy stroked the girl's hair while he stared at her face and a few passerbys gagged and swooned.

"I love you," he said, not wasting his time in the relationship. The girl sighed and began pulling her hair tie out of her ponytail.

"Yeosang," Mingi hissed. "I do not want to watch a few teenagers rail-"

But he was cut off by a shriek from the girl. She was clutching the boy's small necklace around his neck with rage in her eyes. Yeosang glimmered.

"You have someone already," she growled and shook the necklace in front of the boy's face. It was just a normal necklace and the boy was sputtering out of genuine confusion. And it was a normal necklace. But Yeosang had made the girl think that there was a couple ring strung onto the chain.

"You're a genius," Mingi said, he himself not entirely sure of what exactly Yeosang had done. He flicked his hand again.

"You asshole!" The girl screamed, flames in her eyes. Mingi raised his eyebrows and admired his handiwork of adrenaline. She yanked the boy's necklace backward so that the chain clung tightly to the boy's neck. "You fucking cunt," she bellowed and pulled the chain as hard as she could. Mingi saw an opportunity and took it. He wasted no time to flick his hand again and the boy's head came off of his shoulders with a superhuman yank of the necklace from the girl.

Shocked bystanders began rushing towards the girl and pulling her away as she began to stomp on his decapitated head and scream swears at his corpse. Some were holding her back and others were trying to soothe her, but Mingi wasn't sure that was possible anymore. He smiled.

"Nice job," Yeosang and Mingi murmured to each other, amused at the scene they had created. Mingi had taken off his sunglasses. This was infinitely more entertaining to pay attention to.

"It'll go into the books," Yeosang said casually and began to walk away from the scene. The girl's yelling and screaming was a noise to behold. He was sure Hongjoong would want to know about it once they were all through the market.

"Decapitated by Cupid's machete," Mingi said, and followed him away from the lovestruck wreckage and further into the black market's depths.

The final pair of occults from the team entered the market. Again, there was another member with a blue robe and big eyes that showed his youth. They sparkled with a child-like glamor, but the glamor was of malice rather than wonder. The tall one beside him was in all black.

Jongho was a spirabic like most of the rest of the team and was their newest recruit. Only two months ago he had been at school and had genuinely enjoyed school, unlike the rest of them that had attempted academia. His power was something Hongjoong had never seen, so he had made it his priority to claim Jongho for his own when he first heard about his power and potential. When part of the team had arrived to meet him disguised as scouters for a more specialized school for talented spirabics, he was lowering the heart rate of a sleeping patient in the school's infirmary.

He had greeted them with bright eyes and a smile that could melt anyone. "You're the recruitment school, are you not?" He said politely, his dark hair fluttering as he nodded his head in greeting.

"Jongho, have you ever killed anyone?" Hongjoong said without preamble. The rest of the spirabics that were with Hongjoong - Mingi, Wooyoung, and San - shuffled in surprise to hear how upfront he was.

Jongho's eyes widened like he had been slapped in the face. "No!" He cried, putting a hand over his mouth. But Hongjoong watched as his eyes began to flicker around the infirmary. They were the only ones there. Incrementally, his body began to lose tension and he stepped backward to feel the consciousness of the sleeping patient.

"No," he had repeated, his eyes darkening. "But I want to."

And now Jongho had killed dozens already as a new member of the team with his power of manipulating bodily vitals. Lowering heart rate for restful sleep had turned into stopping hearts. Healing lungs had turned into snatching the air from them for a quick death. Even when Jongho had just joined their team to make them eight, Yunho had still seen bits of humanity in his eyes. It had made his eyes bright and gave illumination to their group of darkness and treachery. There was no light in them as he twitched his fingers and a nearby merchant was dead before he hit the floor.

"Nice," Yunho murmured.

"He had a bad heart anyway," Jongho said idly, shoving one hand in his long coat pocket and slipping a silver chain from the dead man's stand into another pocket.

Yunho reveled in the sight of dead bodies. His interest in them was not only because he relished in killing, but because he himself was a manipulator of the dead. Being a mortuumic, Yunho was even more rare than Yeosang's brand of corpic. He was also much more feared and despised by other occults of any kind. He had been an obvious choice for Hongjoong's team - no school wanted a boy that could animate their dead loved ones like a mad puppeteer. Hongjoong had looked in his general direction and Yunho was more than happy to be of use and join him.

"I know what we can do," Jongho muttered to Yunho as they slithered through the packed crowds. "I know what would be fun." He nodded to what Yunho thought was the dirtiest and most disheveled homeless man he'd ever seen in his life.

"Him?" Yunho said, raising his eyebrows. The usual plan when Jongho and Yunho were together was to murder and then reanimate a person. They had done it a few times already with success, such as robbing a villager's shop with his deceased brother's body a month back. Yunho didn't need to wonder if that was their plan for this homeless man - it was a given. But he was shocked when Jongho quickened his pace towards the homeless man and knelt down before him in a kind gesture.

"You're probably hungry," he said in a soft voice that was unlike him and took out a piece of bread from his pockets. He held it out to the homeless man and gave him a sweet look. The man's face broke into a smile so large that it cracked the dry skin around his mouth - he had not smiled in a long time. His graying hands stole the bread from Jongho's hands and he was eating it not even a second later. Yunho was surprised to see that the bread wasn't laced with poison and he hadn't dropped dead immediately.

"Why?" The homeless man croaked after he had finished his meal, looking at Jongho with wide eyes. "You are a man of silk and wealth. Are you a God come to aid me?"

Jongho's eyes shimmered, and Yunho wasn't sure with what. "Yes," he said softly, then pulled out the silver chain he had stolen only minutes ago. "Take this, sir. I only wish to see you happy for the rest of your life."

The man burst into tears as his calloused fingers rubbed the fine chains. He couldn't speak, but his body shaking with sobs and how he held the chain was telling of how much he appreciated the gesture. Jongho stood up and dusted off his blue robe, the man sobbing at his feet like he was Jesus. And he almost did look like him; in that moment, his soft and regal eyes reflected the good deed he had just done and his robe yielded a commanding yet gentle presence that did make him seem kingly. But Yunho knew better than to think that this was all Jongho had planned. Yet, he was still confused by his teammate's actions.

Yunho opened his mouth to ask Jongho what his plan was exactly when the sobbing suddenly stopped. Yunho's eyes darted to Jongho's hands immediately and saw they were in a fist shape. The homeless man was writhing on the ground, clutching his chest like his heart was about to burst from his body. Then he was motionless, his eyes devoid of the light that had been brought into them by Jongho's kindness. Jongho's eyes glimmered again, then he locked eyes with Yunho, a smirk dancing across his lips.

"Now, I pass the torch to you," he said softly.

And it now clicked as to why Jongho had done what he had done. Yunho had a fear that even during those first few seconds of the homeless man's death, someone in the busy market would have noticed. But Jongho had turned the focus to himself by being a samaritan for the man, and unless closely inspected, it appeared that the man was too happy over his recent fortune to be able to stand up. His delirious smile was still etched onto his face, commanded by Jongho's statement that he would be happy for the rest of his life.

But it was now Yunho's turn to show off. While Jongho could manipulate the living, Yunho commanded the dead. His eyes flickered with rapture and he lifted his hands in a gesture he had done a thousand times. He acknowledged the presence of the man's still heart, and then, carefully, let it beat.

It was a soft and slow beat, not a rhythm that any human could live by. But it was enough to flood bits of pink to his cheeks, hands, and neck to make him appear a little more alive. Yunho felt the man's legs, arms, and chest, then willed him to rise in a flourish of necromancy. The man stood, his smile now relaxed and natural. He swung his newly acquired silver chain in his hands and gave a wild grin to Jongho like he had just said a humorous joke.

Yunho wasted no more time on showing off his talent of necromancy. He flicked his arms and the homeless man took off running through the market with that joyous grin on his face that Jongho had given him, attracting attention from everyone who passed him. "Stole it!" He proclaimed, lassoing the chain around his head. Yunho whirled his finger and the man did a flying leap before snagging a bottled glass potion from a nearby table and nearly running over a toddler toddling in the street. The salesman shrieked, and soon the homeless man was being chased by multiple shopkeepers as he kept stealing trinkets and trophies off of stands and tables.

Jongho watched the entire spectacle with a bored expression. "Cheer up," Yunho whispered to him and flicked his arm. The man did a pirouette. "I haven't even gotten to the fun part yet."

The scene of the homeless man running gleefully with an armful of black market treasures while a stampede of angry shoplifters on his heels was a sight to behold. A shopkeeper was approaching him rapidly though, so Yunho decreased the homeless man's speed so that he could catch up.

"You thieving fuck," the shopkeeper growled before grabbing a hold of the man's shirt collar. On cue, Yunho dropped his hands and the homeless man dropped to the ground with them, dead as he was when Jongho had first halted his heart.

The shock on the shopkeeper's face was indescribable. "He's dead," he cried, but his voice was swallowed up by the squabbling shopkeepers that had raced close behind him, now circling the dead man to reclaim their belongings. It didn't seem to matter that their thief was a corpse on the ground, not when there were still living customers to be served.

Yunho grinned with pleasure. Jongho nodded to him. "Nice," he said, giving a small clap. "What a scene. A true spectacle. I would have paid money to see that."

"Then what a treat that it was free," Yunho smirked. He straightened himself and yawned. "And now, we can get ourselves out of here."

Yunho and Jongho walked out of the black market and found Hongjoong first, San mulling around behind him with a glimmer of triumph in his eyes. "We had a fun time," Yunho shared, and Jongho nodded his head in agreement.

"I was called a God by a homeless man," Jongho bragged. "Before I killed him, of course."

"We also had our fair share of fun," Hongjoong grinned and looked at San. "We met a royal merchant. San gave him some painful blood clots."

"Sounds absolutely riveting," Yunho smiled.

Seonghwa came up from behind them with a smug look plastered across his face. "I mostly strolled around, but I killed a boy with lettuce," he said casually.

Wooyoung was carving intricate patterns into a suspiciously shiny bone using his fingers. "And I broke someone's leg."

Yeosang and Mingi emerged from the market, smiling like they had just won the lottery. "And we decapitated a guy," Mingi said with cheer, giving a thumbs up to his team.

The eight of them looked at each other for a moment and then burst into laughter, Seonghwa holding onto his stomach and Wooyoung bent over while he howled.

"That was fun," Wooyoung exclaimed. "The most fun at a black market that I've ever had."

"If only causing trouble was ever that easy or entertaining," Yeosang mused. "It's hard to conceal what you're doing to someone out in the open. The crowds made it so easy to go unnoticed."

The eight of them chatted about their experience in the market, from the nonexistent cleanliness to the terrible and fake items being sold. Seonghwa was ready to go onto a long tangent about the utter disrespect he witnessed for many different types of plants when Hongjoong held up his hand and silenced him.

"I must remind you all that our journey isn't over just yet," he said, his eyes hovering over all of them with a look that only leaders possessed. "We're not yet in possession of our medical supplies."

"Or the botany," Seonghwa reminded him.

"Or the botany," Hongjoong added. "And it may sell fast. Therefore, we cannot waste any more time on trivial talks. At least, not just standing here." His hands went to the flute on his side and he slid it out of its case. "You all go forward. I will be right there."

The others knew what Hongjoong was going to do. They parted from him, and Hongjoong put the flute to his lips. He then blew, and a soft, airy note rose out of the instrument, not unlike the one he had played when they had first arrived on the other side of the market. The note was the team's farewell to the market. But it was also a haunting reminder that they would be back at the market on their return trip, obsessed with the science of pain like moths to a flame.

[cacoetheswriting]

chasing a feeling pt. III - spencer reid

Warnings: mild cursing, implied smut (nothing explicit), kinda angsty, kinda fluffy Word Count: 2.3k Summary: this is part three: Spencer has a habit of showing up at your door in the middle of the night. A/N: italics are memories/flashbacks. also sorry this took so long omg!!

| PART ONE | PART TWO |

-

The case concluded a couple of days later. Days which consisted of ignoring Spencer; unless absolutely necessary. Days spent trying not to look at him, days spent pretending you weren't thinking about him, his touch, or that night you spent together.

It was incredibly hard to concentrate on quite literally anything. 

The night you got home from the work trip was a sleepless one. You tossed and turned, anxious about seeing the brunette doctor the next day. You couldn't help but wonder how the two of you will act around one another now that you were back on common ground. How your dynamic will be now that you weren't working a case. 

It shouldn't have come as a surprise that you weren't the only one feeling restless. A knock on your door caused you to hop out of bed and wander towards it. Letting a yawn escape your lips you looked through the peephole to check who was on the other side. Spencer.

Quickly, you opened the door. The young doctor looked up from the ground and greeted you with a timid smile. 

“Spencer, what are you doing here? How did you know where I live?” 

“I’m sorry Y/N, I know it’s late but-” He cleared his throat. “-can we please talk?” He asked while staring deep into your eyes. You nodded after a brief moment and stepped aside, allowing him to enter. 

Spencer sat down on the couch, glancing around your apartment in the process. The place wasn’t fully decorated yet. A number of cardboard boxes were stacked on top of one another in the corner of the living room, clearly still full. The TV lay on the floor, cables tangled, and beside it was a half-opened suitcase with your go-bag thrown hastily on top. 

You asked if he wanted a coffee, or anything else to drink, but he politely shook his head ‘no’ so you situated yourself on the opposite end of the couch and waited for him to tell you why he was here.

Silence enveloped around the room. Suddenly afraid to say anything, in case it ended up in another argument, the brunette doctor nervously fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt. You were slightly taken aback by his nervous demeanour, it was completely different to the way he acted around you the last week.

It reminded you of when you were younger. The shy, awkward, slightly closed-off Spencer. The guy who wouldn’t hold your hand or at time was afraid to meet your gaze, the guy that didn’t understand the sarcastic jokes you made. It made your heart ache a little.

Finals were approaching and they were approaching fast. Everyone said law school would be hard. Long hours, extensive curriculum, sleepless nights, projects, essays, case-studies. The list goes on.

It didn't help that you were a lot younger than your fellow classmates. Being an ambitious and driven kid you managed to skip a few grades and get an undergraduate degree in psychology at a very young age. Law school seemed like the logical next step although now you were thinking about giving up.

With junior year coming to an end, you constantly wondered whether this should be the end of your law career. Perhaps there was something better out there for you. Something easier, and not as draining. You weren't a quitter, far from it, but this was too much for a single person to handle.

It was Friday night, and yet currently you were curdled up on the library floor rather than at some frat party. Piles on piles of books and encyclopaedias formed around you as you worked away on your end of term paper. 

A not so quiet yawn escaped your lips. Followed by another. Leaning back against the shelf behind you, you closed your eyes. Honestly, you could fall asleep here, now. 

It was in that moment of silence you heard a shuffling sound approaching your location between the aisles of books. Slowly, you flushed your eyes back open to analyse your surroundings - see who it was that disturbed your peace. 

A scrawny boy stood just a few feet away, deeply focused on the collection of titles in front of him. The boy was around your age. Tall. You could see remains of gel in his short brown hair; which was now quite messy. He was dressed in a slightly oversized sweater, underneath he wore what looked like a neatly ironed shirt, and a dark bag was draped loosely over his shoulder. 

“Hello.” You said. His head instantly snapped in your direction. 

“H-hi.” He replied sheepishly. “I-I didn’t mean to wake you.” His soft demeanour made you smile. “Oh, I wasn't actually sleeping. Just resting my eyes for a second.” 

The boy nodded. You waited for him to say something but he didn't so you reached out your hand. 

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” 

His gaze travelled to your hand before moving back up to meet yours. He didn't move any closer, and you could sense he grew a little uncomfortable, so you let your hand fall down to your lap.

“I’m Spencer.” He cleared his throat. “Doctor Spencer Reid.” Your eyes widened a little at his esteemed title. “Doctor?” 

Spencer’s nose twitched gently. 

“I have Ph.D’s in mathematics, chemistry and engineering.” He retorted causing your mouth to part in shock. “Holy shit.” Pause. “Wow, and here I thought I was the resident genius having one silly undergraduate degree.” You joked; but the young doctor didn't laugh. He simply stared at you, a kind look spread across his face.

“W-what are you studying now?” Spencer asked, motioning to the stakes of books around you.

“I’m in law school.” You replied. “Failing miserably to write my stupid end of term paper.” Sigh. “One of many actually.” 

Spencer took one step forward. “M-maybe I can help?” He offered. “That is really kind of you but unless you have a law degree you haven’t mentioned yet, I don't know how you would be able to help.” 

“I don’t have a law degree, but I have an eidetic memory.” He said, nervously tugging at the strap of his bag. “I-if that’s of any help to you.” 

The smile on your face grew wider. “Well Spencer, now you’re just showing off.” 

It was at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue with such ease, the brunette doctor finally smiled. And holy smokes did he have a pretty smile. Your heart skipped a beat as his face illuminated. 

“But you convinced me.” You added while getting up on your feet. You picked up your things along with as many books as you could carry. Spencer shuffled toward you, and while keeping his distance, he bent down to pick up the remaining items. 

“Why are you here Spencer?” You finally asked breaking the silence.

The brunette agent tilted his head in your direction, eyes locking with yours once again causing the air to catch briefly in your chest.

“I wanted to make sure you knew that what happened between us the other night, that wasn’t some ploy to get you to stay.” He stated. “I tried to explain that to you but you never really gave me a chance.” Pause. “Y/N, I want you to stay. Not for me but because you deserve to be a part of this team.”

“I appreciate you saying that Spencer. Truly.” A small smile graced your facial features. The brunette doctor smiled down at his hands. “But you didn’t have to come here in the middle of the night to tell me that. It could have waited.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Spencer smirked before clearing his throat. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours. “I guess I just wanted to see you.” You bit down on your bottom lip the second he said that, your heart skipping a beat. Spencer shifted closer to you. Without really thinking about it, you also moved in his direction. Your knees now touching. 

“You know, communication was never our strong suit. For two people with psychology degrees you would think we’d be better at it.” You muttered making Spencer laugh. The smile on your face slowly faded. “Maybe we’re too similar, maybe that was our downfall.” 

Spencer lifted his hand, reaching out for yours which was currently placed on your lap. He intertwined his fingers with yours. “In reality, opposites don’t attract.” The brunette doctor noted. “You’re more likely to be attracted someone who thinks the same as you do.” 

In the space of a heartbeat, without giving you a chance to reach, Spencer leaned in. His lips brushed against yours; electricity shooting through your body. His free hand found its way to your face, and he cupped your cheek. As seconds passed you pushed yourself into him more. Fuck. Should you be doing this?

You hurried through the halls, slaloming between the groups of students making their way peacefully to class. A feeling of excitement filled you from head to toe; excitement you only wanted to share with one specific person. 

Spencer was sat in your now usual spot at the university library. Two coffees in front of him, one for you. 

A sort of routine emerged since the two of you first met. It started out for purely academic purposes, but in the last week especially it evolved into something different. A friendship perhaps? No. It felt more than that although neither of you could quite describe it

“I did it!” You exclaimed while sitting down beside the young doctor - getting a dirty look from the librarian in the process. She shushed you before returning to whatever it was she was doing. You rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to Spencer. “I am officially done with all my papers and assignments.”

“I’m happy for you Y/N.” Spencer smiled.

“Well, I couldn't have done it without you.” You beamed at him. “I don’t know how I will ever thank you Spencer.” He shrugged his shoulders.  

“Come on genius, there must be something I can do for you.”

The brunette doctor cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze. “I-I have t-two tickets to this convention, but you wouldn't be interested.” You raised an eyebrow while reaching for one of the coffees on the table. Lifting the lid to your lips you smiled. “It’s a date.”

Spencer’s hands were now holding onto your waist. He lifted you up in one swift motion, without breaking the kiss, so that you were now cradling his lap. You held his face, the tips of your fingers wrapping in his light brown curls. 

Any reservations you had just a moment ago were now forgotten. You were completely lost in him, just as he was in you. 

As your mouth parted, Spencer’s tongue crept between your lips meeting yours. Instantly, your tongues began to play back and forth. Heads tilting side to side to vary pressure. 

Spencer’s strong hands began to travel up your body. They moved from your waist; slightly messing up your shirt in the process and sending a shiver down your spine. They stopped once they reached your neck, giving it a light squeeze. You couldn't help but moan against his hot mouth. 

“I honestly don’t remember the last time I had this much fun.” You breathed happily as you and the young doctor walked down the busy street after the convention. “You don’t have to say that Y/N.” Spencer said, nervously tugging at the bottom of his shirt. 

“Are you kidding? Spencer, today was amazing!” You beamed throwing your hands up in the air. “I was supposed to be making it up to you for your help with my papers but instead you treated me to another great day.” 

Spencer chuckled lightly. He loved seeing you this happy. The more he thought about it, the more he realised how many things he actually loved about you. But it made him nervous because what if he didn't just love things like your laugh or your attitude. What if in fact he was in love with you.

“I guess we’re going to have to go on another date.” You teased. Spencer’s nose twitched but he didn't say anything. His lack of response caused you to stop in your tracks. The young doctor mimicked your move and also stopped, just a step ahead of you.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. 

“Why are you sorry?” Spencer asked confused.

“I just, I called today our date and I don’t want you to think I expect anything. I know the idea of dating can make you uncomfortable.” Your mouth flipped into a half-smile. “I like hanging out with you Spencer. I enjoy your company, and I wouldn't want to jeopardise that.” 

“I like hanging out with you too.” 

“Really?” “O-of course I do Y/N.” He smiled nervously. “I-I would like to go on more dates with you. You’re like a breath of fresh air.” Your face flushed red at his comment. Something Spencer noticed immediately. Without really thinking, he reached out his hand and gently caressed your cheek. 

Your heart stopped. This was the first time he had touched you, ever. It was the first time you felt his soft skin against yours. You wanted desperately to lean into his touch but you didn't want to scare him off so you stood still, taking a mental picture of this moment. 

Very slowly the two of you broke apart. The brunette doctor looked deep into your eyes; what he saw was longing, fervour. He felt the exact same. 

Between the constant fights and misunderstandings it felt wrong to feel this strong desire to one another. This strong pull. It felt almost toxic. But Spencer shook the invasive thought away, his lips once again meeting yours. 

“Would you like to move this to the bedroom?” You suggested in a mere whisper in between kisses. Spencer nodded. His hands situated themselves on your bum. The brunette agent picked you up allowing you to swiftly wrapp your legs around him. He carried you to the bed, kicking the door shut behind you with his leg. 

-

story taglist: @ashwarren32, @haylaansmi, @spencersblog, @lovebodymindstuff, @april-14-blog, @wooya1224, @chevyimpala00067, @sizzlingclamturtlesludge​

masterlist

[milkybonya]

In THE DaRk

order 004 for anon: large coconut milk tea (In THE DaRk by BOBBy) with regular tapioca pearls and fresh taro

Warnings: food mentions

Pairing: idol!Hui x delivery worker!reader

Summary: you deliver food to cube ent. and end up becoming friends with Hui, an idol who's at the peak of his career... but he finds himself falling for you even as his songs rise on the charts :")

Word count: like maybe 3k?

[a/n]: i love this request because i love this song and writing it while listening to the song on loop in the dark of my room just made me so happy? also i put wayyyy more effort into this than necessary and it turned out super long >.< i'm so sorry anonnie i hope you like itttt ahhh

Shine, you shine on my existence

Sure, Hui was an idol with a life of his own - especially now, during Shine promotions, that his group, PENTAGON, was blowing up. Yet he never failed to make time for you, because you were the light of his life.

As a hardworking idol who was always cooped up in his studio and skipping meals, his members encouraged him to at least order food. He was reluctant but eventually agreed, not wanting to make them worry.

That's where you came in: a delivery worker at a local restaurant not too far from Cube entertainment, Hui's company. A lot of people ordered from your restaurant to Cube, so you weren't surprised when a new order flashed on the iPad screen at your workplace.

"We've got another delivery, [y/n]," the worker at the front told you with a smile, walking to the back to tell the cooks what to prepare.

You tapped your feet against the ground, awaiting the order. Once it was prepared, you carefully placed it in your delivery bag, fastened it to your bike and off you went, wearing a helmet of course.

The gentle breeze was enough to cheer you up and give you energy, despite the scene around you being full of traffic and slightly bleak.

Once you arrived, the guards let you in without even checking your workplace ID this time, recognizing you as a trusted delivery person.

You made your way up to the floor listed on the order, roaming through countless hallways until you finally found the right room. Judging by the area and the doors, it seemed to be full of studios.

The person who ordered this must be working hard, you thought to yourself.

Suddenly, you got an urge to leave a note, wishing the person well. You took out a scrap piece of paper and a pen that you always had handy, your heart racing and your hands shaking at the thought of doing this. You were excited at the idea of the person being happy to see such a cheerful note...

I hope you enjoy this meal and that it gives you enough energy to keep working hard :) Go for it!

After neatly placing the food and note at the door, you knocked and walked away, not wanting to bother the person. Even though you didn't turn your back, you heard the door open a few seconds later.

"Thank you!" a voice echoed through the hall.

You turned quickly to say ‘you’re welcome’ in response and caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a young idol hard at work. His hair was messy and he had dark circles under his eyes, but his mismatches clothes and bright smile were quite cute.

You thought that would be the last you’d see of him, but from that day onwards, he always ordered food from your restaurant at the same time: 2:09pm. Why so specific? You weren’t sure, but that’s how it was, and you being the only delivery worker at your restaurant meant that it would always be you taking the food to him.

The second time you went, you were surprised to see a note waiting on the door for you.

Thank you for your cheerful message... I’ll do my best to work harder!

It made you smile and you decided to leave another note with his order, this time just asking him what his favourite side dishes were so you could tell the cooks to put more of those in next time. Instead of him leaving a note for you with the response, though, Hui decided to text you this time so he wouldn't have to wait for you to make another delivery before you could see his response.

Unknown: This is Hui! Ah, I ordered food from you at 2:09pm? I'm not really picky on side dishes, but one of my members likes kimchi, so could you make sure to leave more of that for me?

You: sure, of course! but how did you get my number?

Hardworking Hui: Ah, sorry! It was on the app since you're the delivery worker... for me to contact you in case you get lost? I'm sorry!

You: No, that's okay! i just wanted to be sure ^^

So after that day, you made sure Hui always got extra kimchi with his order. He would always greet you at the door of his studio, quickly asking about your day and how you were doing. Truthfully, he actually wanted to ask you to come inside so he could talk with you some more, because the two of you would always get an interesting conversation going before you declared you had to leave.

Since he was too shy to ask you in person, he texted you, instead.

Hardworking Hui: could you get the rest of the day off after delivering my order today?

You: why?

Hardworking Hui: so you can eat with me? if that's okay? or just take an hour off!

You: ...

You: Only if you pay for my food :P

Hardworking Hui: deal

So that day, you asked your manager for the hour off from 2:30pm to 3:30pm. She agreed, knowing that you always work hard and deserve a break.

Showing up to Hui's studio with his usual order and some food for yourself in your hands, you knocked a little nervously this time, knowing that this wouldn't just be a delivery, but a whole... hang out? Type of thing?

Hui had made sure to clean his studio to the best of his ability, making sure that there was another comfy chair for you to sit on and that the room didn't smell bad or anything. He lit a couple of candles and vacuumed the place so there would be no dust. When you knocked on the door, he jumped out of his seat with excitement, immediately opening it.

"Hi! Come in," he said, holding the door open so you could step inside. Seeing the cosy, dimly lit space left you in awe.

"It's so cool to see where you've been working away for all this time," you said, sitting down on a chair and putting the food down.

"Yeah... sometimes I get tired of it, but it's home," Hui said, sitting on his studio chair and opening up the food.

"Ah... where's the kimchi?" Hui asked, pointing at all the dishes.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I told the cook to include my favourite side dish too, but he must have just replaced the kimchi with this instead, I'm so sorry!"

Hui laughed, shaking his head.

"It's completely fine!" he said, handing you your favourite side dish.

As the two of you began eating, you were able to get to know each other more as you spoke and asked each other questions. Even though it was a little silly asking for each other's favourite colours and seasons, it was a lot of fun, and the two of you turned out to have a lot in common.

Tears are erased by my emotions / Add, add colour to the world

After that day, you weren't just a delivery worker for Hui, and he wasn't just a customer to you. The two of you became close friends, attending the concerts of your favourite artists together. Hui would joke and say that he was attending for work reasons, trying to gain musical inspiration, while you had no real reason to be there. You'd slap his shoulder lightly, telling him to watch his words while he'd laugh at your reaction.

Even though his work was stressful at times, it was days like those that seemed to make him cry in reverse, if that was even possible? You showed up and turned his world around, adding colour onto his black and white canvas.

His members even told him that he seemed more cheerful and energetic despite still working hard in the studio, and Hui even told you that his songwriting process seemed to be running more smoothly.

"I'm so glad we became friends," he told you, leaning his head on your shoulder one day as the two of you sat on a park bench. You smiled, strongly agreeing with him in your own heart.

But do you remember when I mentioned Shine promotions at the beginning of this? Well, let's skip forward to that point.

By then, you had seen Hui and his group perform quite a few times, whether it was at concerts, music shows or even on the TV at your home. You were incredibly proud of him and wanted nothing but for him to succeed.

Every time Hui found you in the crowd at any of his live performances, he'd feel some kind of crazy adrenaline rush as all of his tiredness just seemed to magically disappear. He'd perform as if rent was due just because you gave him the energy to do so.

"Was [y/n] watching us again?" Hyunggu asked backstage after another performance for Shine ended safely.

"Yeah, I saw them there!" Hongseok confirmed.

"Plus, you can tell by the way Hui is acting," Yuto laughed, nodding towards Hui who was frantically texting you asking you if you'd left completely.

You told him you were still at the venue, and he begged you to come backstage. When you arrived, you greeted all of the Pentaboys, who adored you almost as much as Hui did, before joining Hui at his makeup table. You greeted the makeup artist too, out of respect, before asking Hui why he needed to see you so urgently.

"We might win today... I just wanted you to be by my side as good luck," he explained, a clearly worried expression on his face.

It was a shock to you that despite Shine doing so well on the charts, Pentagon still had not gotten their first win, but you knew they were an amazing group, regardless.

What you doing now? What's your plan now?

You placed your hand on top of Hui's, which rested on his own thigh.

"Hui, I know you haven't been getting all the wins you've been expecting, but we can't deny that this song is absolutely a bop and you have all been killing it!" you told him with a smile.

You couldn't tell whether or not your words had any sort of effect on him because he was looking down, but you hoped they at least didn't make him feel worse.

The rest of the Pentaboys cheered hearing your words though, feeling energized at your honest observation.

Hui was looking down because his stomach was tied in knots at the feeling of your hand on his. It was something he'd never felt before... butterflies? He tried to shrug it off but he couldn't stop wondering about your intentions... did you place your hand over his for a reason? What were you trying to tell him? What were you planning?

Inside my brain, after making a place for you / You make it impossible for me to sleep

That night, Hui still couldn't stop thinking about your simple gesture. You didn't mean anything by it, right? It was just a friend comforting a friend... the two of you had been friends for a while now, so why was he thinking into this so much?

As feelings of sleepiness took over, he drowsily wondered what it would be like to hold your hand rather than to just have his hand underneath yours. What would it be like to be held by you?

-

The next day, with more promotions ahead, you made sure to send Hui a text of good luck. You wouldn't be able to watch from the live audience that day, since you had work and deliveries to carry out, but you still wanted him to know that you were thinking of him.

Hui couldn't stop staring at your message of good luck for the whole day, pressing his finger on the heart emoji that you added at the end of your message.

"Hui hyung, are you reading something?" Wooseok asked the leader, sitting beside him on the sofa in the waiting room.

"Huh? N-no," Hui quickly said with a laugh, tucking his phone away.

"You've been staring at your phone all day... what is it, is it a fun webtoon?"

"No, no! Don't worry about it," Hui laughed, ruffling the tall boy's hair.

Wooseok whined, yelling about how the stylist just did his hair. Meanwhile, Hui's heart was racing. Why had he been staring at your text message all day?

You: I'm thinking of you today, Hui! Go get em, good luck <3

Are you thinking of me in this dawn? / I wish there was a continuous portal from my room to yours

Again, that night, Hui couldn't stop thinking about you. This time, it was about the message you'd sent him. He still had it open and was staring at it. He wondered if, when you said you were thinking of him, did that mean you were thinking of him right then and there too? At the same time when he was thinking about you?

Were your sleepless thoughts filled with him, just like his were filled with you-?

Ring ring. Ring ring.

Shit.

He'd been staring at your text and holding his phone so tightly that he accidentally pressed the call icon next to your name.

"Hello?" you answered sleepily. It was 3am and you had been asleep.

"H-hello? [y/n]?"

"Yes, Hui, what is it?"

"I uh..."

He desperately tried to think of an excuse for calling you, any reason-

"I wish there was a portal that went directly from my room to yours."

Really, Hui? Was that the best thing you could think of?

His heart raced and he smiled as he heard your laugh on the other end. He didn't realize he'd balled his other hand into a fist until your laughter made him calm down.

"What are you saying, Hui?"

"I miss you..." he mumbled.

Despite being sleepy, his words still made you nervous. Your heart raced and you wondered what he was trying to tell you.

"I m-miss you too," you croaked out.

"Really?" Hui asked you, sitting up in bed.

"Yeah, really," you said, laughing. It wasn't a lie, either. You'd been watching all of his performances on your phone that day while working, almost falling off your bike because you were that invested. In him.

"Do you wanna meet up now?"

"Now?" you spluttered.

"Yeah... by the Han River?"

You paused for a while before answering.

"Let's do it."

Even if I breathe in the cold air / It feels sweet, so sweet

"AHHH IT'S SO COOOOLD!" Hui yelled into the night air, rubbing his arms and running around in circles beside you.

"Here, take my coat," you said, but instead just wrapping your arms around him.

Hui tensed up, wondering if your arm that was wrapped around his chest could feel his heartbeat.

"W-what are you doing?" he asked.

"Providing you with warmth," you said.

You also felt butterflies stirring within you, realizing that maybe you saw Hui as more than just a friend. Yet you shrugged it off, telling yourself that Hui was an idol and you were just a delivery worker.

You can't know my pathetic feelings / Even if I've confessed a hundred times inside my brain / I'm invisible to you

Hui stayed quiet, closing his eyes tightly and enjoying the feeling of being in your arms on this cold night. He knew this embrace wouldn't last and that maybe it wouldn't happen again, because in his mind, he was invisible to you. Just a friend who you goofed around with, but all of your jokes made his heart rush.

The two of you ran around the grassy banks of Han River together, laughing into the night and chasing each other like kids. Each time Hui caught up to you, he'd wrap his small frame around you so tightly that it made you lose your breath. You told yourself it was just because you were running so hard, but it was definitely something else.

As the sun was beginning to rise and the two of you were finally in your homes, trying to get some sleep, Hui imagined what it would be like to confess to you. What if he confessed right there and then when you hugged him by the Han River? What if he told you how much he likes you and... what if you felt the same? What if you cupped his cheeks in your hands and kissed him right there as the river reflected the starlight from the sky...? What if Hui would drop his phone in shock but would kiss you back more passionately?

No, Hui. No.

If I ever want you to feel the same / That must be greedy, that'd probably be a chance to peek into heaven / 'Cause you are angel

There was no way any of that would ever happen. There was no way you would ever like him back, at least for Hui. You were way too good for him, an angel on this planet full of demons and sinners.

Little did he know that you were also squinting at the sun, struggling to get some sleep as you thought of the way Hui would press his face into your chest every time he caught up to you at the Han River as you chased each other for fun. His bright smile and gentle laughter made your heart feel like the Han River itself, gently flowing along but filled with such a refreshing feeling.

After another week of intense Shine promotions, Hui feeling all sorts of emotions as Shine continued to soar while his feelings for you also grew, it became unbearable. The two of you would talk late into the night, whether it was sending texts because Hui was busy working or whether it was phone calls. Hui thought about you every second of every day and always missed you a ton.

Please know that I like you / I just want to be there for the rest of your life

Hui asked you to meet him in his studio one evening, as he knew your work schedule and knew that you were free. You agreed, slightly confused as to how he was making time to meet with you despite being so busy.

"Hui, I'm here!" you sang, opening the door to his studio and finding him sitting there in his chair, looking especially cute as his hair was slightly ruffled and he wore a big, comfy hoodie.

"[y/n], I have to tell you something," he said, with a slightly sad smile.

"Yeah, what is it?"

You grew worried, but decided not to make a fuss over anything just yet.

"So, for some time now.... well, of course we've been good friends, and I don't want this to ruin that if you don't feel the same..."

He sighed mid-sentence.

"Gosh, I don't know why I'm rambling," he said with a laugh.

You instinctively laughed along.

"Well, [y/n]. I like you... a lot. I know it's pathetic for me to feel this way when I don't even deserve you, but-"

"You like me?" you cut him off.

Hui nodded in response, looking slightly red now.

Nervous and absolutely bewildered, you starting laughing to yourself, making Hui worry if he'd said something wrong.

"Hui, I... I like you too, what the hell?! And here I was thinking I was pathetic!"

"You're not pathetic at all!" Hui said, grinning widely and bright red in the face upon hearing your answer to his confession.

Both of you nervously smiled at each other for some time before Hui broke the silence.

"I know... it may be hard to date me... well no, it will be hard to date me since I'm an idol, but I promise I'll give this my everything. It's a given, because of how much I like you and how lucky I am for you to even date me-"

"I never said I was dating you," you joked.

"What?" Hui asked in shock.

"I'm joking! Hui, it's okay. We'll get through these difficulties together, whatever they may be," you said, holding half of his face in your right hand, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Hui leaned into your touch, closing his eyes.

"You're right," he said, before turning his face and pressing his lips to your hand.

[shihalyfie]

The relationships between the Adventure group and the 02 group

As much as it would sound romantic to group the older Adventure six and the younger 02 juniors into one huge “group of twelve” all of the time, it’s undeniable that there’s a boundary between them, especially since there’s a different internal dynamic within each group as well -- of course, for important events or incidents like Diablomon Strikes Back, they’re capable of getting together as a whole, and they hand off information and call on each other freely for support over the course of 02, but once we start getting into “social life relationships”, things get a bit more complicated. Overall, we all know that the juniors adore and respect their seniors, and the seniors are happy to mentor and support their juniors, but the way each of the older Adventure six approaches the younger kids has an interesting variance from person to person!

Overall

The other sections of this post deal with how each of the “02 quartet” (Daisuke, Miyako, Iori, and Ken, or in other words the four Tokyo Chosen Children introduced in 02) interacts with individual seniors, but in general it should be established that each of the Adventure and 02 groups is always comfortable calling in the other for backup or assistance if necessary. This is especially accentuated in 02 episode 46 (when Daisuke ropes Taichi and the others into helping them do a full-on stakeout of the Dark Seed kids all over Tokyo, which is a lot of work), and Diablomon Strikes Back (when the initial mission was very obviously intended to have the older kids at the forefront and the younger ones as backup, before things went south).

It’s also indicated multiple times over the course of 02 that “sharing information” is a huge priority for everyone, especially with the D-Terminals in play that allow people to keep people in the loop about what’s going on, so that backup can be called in at any time -- see how quickly information passes from the juniors to the seniors during the crisis in 02 episode 7, or how Takeru and Hikari constantly keep each other posted on the situation and their whereabouts in the first half of Hurricane Touchdown. (This is especially when you keep in mind the real-life context that, in 2000, it wasn’t common yet for the average elementary school student to have a cell phone, so 02 deliberately inserted the D-Terminals into the lore so that this kind of communication could be possible, further tying into the overall franchise theme of the impact of technology on society.) There is no issue in 02 that’s caused by lack of communication (at least, unless it involves someone being emotionally unable to communicate), because of how quickly, easily, and constantly everyone is kept in the loop.

Each group is a valuable resource for backup in any situation, and both groups have a clear and obvious sentiment of “wanting to help as much as they can” and “not wanting to be useless”; the Adventure seniors constantly express frustration over the course of the first half of 02 that they can’t do more, and do their best to provide as much support as they can within the restraints of the situation. Once evolutionary restrictions are lifted in the final quarter of the series and everyone goes on winter break, the older Adventure seniors start making a significantly larger number of appearances and directly getting involved without even needing to be asked; since everyone clearly wants to help each other out, there's no reason to refrain from seeking all of the help one can get. By the time of Kizuna, Daisuke (and, if the storyboards are to be believed, Ken too) is still on Koushirou’s call list even if he’s not present for that single incident, and Yamato loops them in to help scout on Menoa in New York since they’re in the right place in the right time.

This is especially in the case of Koushirou, the team’s resident analyst, who can only do his analyses if he has all of the information he can possibly get; since the 02 kids can do certain things that he or the others can’t, he often asks them to do favors for him or provide him with info (such as borrowing Miyako’s D-3 in 02 episode 4, or having Daisuke test out opening a gate at the Yagami residence in 02 episode 17, or picking Ken’s brain in 02 episode 33) so that he has more to work with. It is generally advantageous for Koushirou to get as much as he can on the table and make use of, and since he has an important role in 02 as a personnel manager and team organizer, it’s in his best interest to use the 02 group as guinea pigs make extensive use of their own abilities, as much as he can.

With Daisuke

Daisuke is a very deferential person in general, so him treating his elders with utmost respect and deferring to them is kind of like saying water is wet, but there are some relationships in particular that stand out!

Daisuke being Taichi’s soccer junior and “inheritor” of both his Crest of Courage and his goggles is of course one of the most iconic and well-known parts of 02, but it’s interesting to see how Taichi treats Daisuke in return. While it’s unclear if Taichi knew him as anything but yet another of his soccer juniors prior to the events of 02, there’s a lot to be said about how Taichi hands over his goggles without hesitation -- as much as we as the audience associate this with “leadership”, the 02 group doesn’t actually have a leader from an in-story perspective, and, in-universe, Taichi gave him his own goggles on account of the fact that Daisuke was a “new Chosen Child”...and also the fact Daisuke had just broken his own and he presumably felt bad for him. (How much Taichi was consciously aware that Daisuke was doing it specifically to imitate him will be left to your imagination, because Daisuke never actually vocalizes this to his face.)

That’s a pretty big deal of a thing to do, given that even if you don’t necessarily believe there’s a huge sentimental backstory behind those goggles, Taichi took off an item he’d been wearing for at least seven years and just handed them over! So in other words, Taichi really did believe in Daisuke’s potential enough to entrust him with something this important.

We also see Taichi come to watch Daisuke’s game against the Tamachi team in 02 episode 8, and it should be pointed out that Taichi, being from Odaiba Middle School, had no practical reason to be at this game -- as far as the kids knew at the time, Ken had no connection to any of the Digital World incidents, and it was just a game that they all attended to give Daisuke their moral support, and so Taichi was mainly just here to watch how his junior would do in such an important match and give him advice. (Although, as Daisuke points out later in the episode, he’s pretty strict, too.)

Eight years later in Kizuna, in a scene where it’s established that Taichi is drifting enough from of the others to the point Yamato has to update him on them (Sora and Takeru), Taichi still seems to be roughly aware of what’s going on with Daisuke, despite neither of them playing soccer anymore -- and, of course, Daisuke seems to have always had utmost faith in him. (Also, Daisuke seems to have returned the goggles; we’ll leave to the imagination what might have led to that.)

Some interesting history about Daisuke’s relationship with the soccer club members: as per 02 episode 2, he was already at least roughly acquainted with Sora prior to her switching her sport to tennis, and, if the Adventure novels are to be believed, he was apparently already a member at the time of Adventure in 1999 (likely as an “unofficial member”, given that he would have been too young to formally enroll in it until Taichi had already graduated). If this is true, this would make him likely to be roughly acquainted with Koushirou as well. He was, at the very least, also around to overhear Taichi discussing the Digimon (although we don’t actually have all that much evidence that anyone was working that hard to keep it a secret).

According to Spring 2003, Daisuke is said to have picked up his goggles in imitation of “the person wearing goggles” whom he witnessed from afar during the Odaiba fog incident three years prior, not necessarily Taichi as his soccer club senior -- meaning that he may not have immediately recognized that they were the same person (although that certainly begs the question of how many people in Odaiba wear goggles; given that Daisuke seemed to just have a pair lying around at home, perhaps this is a normal fashion statement?). Taichi is portrayed as being much better at soccer than Daisuke is (Taichi was already a soccer captain in his fifth year while Daisuke didn’t even become a regular until his sixth), and so learning that they’re the same person at some point presumably solidified Daisuke’s personal image of Taichi as an absolutely incredible senior to look up to.

Daisuke infamously starts off on a bad note with Yamato in 02 episode 4 -- he insults an older sibling, something Yamato takes very personally, and it’s a bad mix of Daisuke’s abrasive demeanor and Yamato’s emotional passion -- but by the time of 02 episode 11, it all seems to be water under the bridge as Yamato treats Daisuke very endearingly after watching the process of him earning the Digimental of Friendship. (While it’s not stated in words, one might imagine that Yamato also became a lot more forgiving of Daisuke not being very respectful of Jun after personally witnessing how much of a handful she could be in 02 episode 7.) And, as Daisuke’s technically the inheritor of his Crest of Friendship, it’s interesting to point out that Daisuke arguably shares as many of Yamato’s personality traits as Taichi; he’s an intensely emotional person (far more so than Taichi is), and has somewhat of an awkward way of expressing himself.

Yamato is also the Adventure group member who maintains contact with the 02 quartet over the course of Kizuna, and with Daisuke as the main representative calling back, he naturally goes straight into “happy puppy mode” the moment one of his seniors calls to ask him a favor. The novel refers to the 02 group as “reliable juniors they can count on” (which we can imagine reflects Yamato’s mindset at this point), and he also makes sure to check on whether the 02 group hasn’t also been subject to the ring of light issue, out of curiosity but also worry.

While it’s less immediately apparent, Daisuke also forms a recurring relationship with Mimi. Interestingly, most of their interactions have to do with Mimi’s location in the US, with Mimi teasing him in an email in Hurricane Touchdown and inviting him to come over, Daisuke helping Mimi and Michael out in 02 episode 40, and Mimi getting a lot of mileage and fun out of teasing him in The Door to Summer (this trip is implied to at least partially have been planned with meeting Mimi in mind; perhaps Daisuke was following up on that email one year prior). All of this happening with no translator; one might say that Daisuke seems to be good at befriending Americans in New York, which is interesting when you consider that his English is implied to be reasonably good, and the fact he eventually opens his ramen shop in New York...

Both he and Mimi are pretty like-minded overall, being very pure-hearted people who love supporting others and are never condescending or consciously rude to others, so it’s easy to see why they’d get along.

With Miyako

Rather famously, Koushirou was Miyako’s computer club senior prior to the events of 02, and she still looks up to him and adores him (she even goes out of her way to bring souvenir yatsuhashi from Kyoto for him in 02 episode 34). Koushirou’s handling of her is rather professional -- he calls her “Miyako-kun” -- but this is, in general, more of a symptom of the fact that Koushirou isn’t exactly the kind of person who shows open affection for anyone, and he’s still dealing with the fact that he used to compulsively push people away, so being able to talk to anyone neutrally like this is already kind of a big step.

This is especially because he’s got a pretty huge investment in the kids in general -- he’s one of the most visible of the seniors in 02, and while part of it is also because of his specialty in computers and his inquisitive personality driving him to take a very direct role in things, he also rails at the kids in worry in 02 episode 7 and continues to support the kids with actual support, providing them things they might find helpful or useful. So, in effect, it’s just that Koushirou has his own ways of showing support for his juniors, especially since his character arc has heavily to do with developing a skill in coordinating others.

Miyako continues working in the computer club under Koushirou even after entering middle school, and, eight years later in Kizuna, it seems that Koushirou is actively maintaining contact with Miyako (in the opening, he’s the one directly shown initiating contact via email), since she’s personally helping him with Chosen Child community management. There’s no computer club anymore and the group isn’t necessarily working as a cohesive group all of the time either, so this is something they’re actively involved in together...and Miyako is clearly comfortable enough to dump work that she doesn’t want to do on him. (He doesn’t seem to mind that much.)

Miyako first meets Mimi in 02 episode 6 and immediately latches onto her without hesitation, to the point of fantasizing about their relationship and labeling her “Mimi-oneesama” (big sister Mimi) thereafter. (Note that she only does this when it’s a very casual or playful situation, since 02 episode 14 later establishes that she’ll go back to the usual “Mimi-san” when things get more serious or her mood is worse.) Mimi answers to Miyako’s affection easily, given their similar temperaments, and they get along swimmingly.

We get a little more insight as to Miyako’s feelings on Mimi in 02 episode 14, where Miyako spends the duration of it negatively comparing her own behavior and personality to Mimi's kinder and more mature way of handling things, implying that she sees Mimi as an example to follow that she sees herself as not sufficiently reaching. Notably, in 02 episode 25, when Mimi takes charge and uses Miyako’s D-Terminal to request Ken’s help, Miyako doesn’t protest at all; it of course wasn’t helped by the fact Miyako herself was tussling with mixed feelings on Ken, but it’s worth pointing out that, after all of the vehement verbal arguing about the issue, Miyako respects Mimi’s decision enough to not protest.

Miyako also bonds a bit with Sora, both during her initial process of receiving her first Digimental in 02 episode 2, and during them working together in 02 episode 42. Miyako doesn’t seem to put her on as much of a pedestal as Mimi, but still very much defers to and respects her stance, and Sora is happy to indulge around and bond with her (note how casually she carries herself around Miyako).

While we don’t see them interact much in the series proper, Miyako reveals in 02 episode 29 that she does sound engineering work for Yamato’s band (in conjunction with Koushirou), which she continues doing after entering middle school in Spring 2003 -- although it seems she’s having a hard time getting him (and everyone else) to embrace techno.

With Iori

Among the Adventure seniors, Iori’s most notable relationship is with Jou, which is pretty interesting on its face given that this is the largest possible age gap among any two from this group (Iori is 9, Jou 15). Yet the two are put together in major situations no less than three times -- 02 episodes 5, 16, and 41 -- and with the first two depicting Jou as having a major role in mentoring Iori, in regards to the importance of personal choice and responsibility in being a Chosen Child (02 episode 5), and the conflict between moral principles and practicality (02 episode 16). A lot of the gist of Jou’s and Iori’s character arcs and dispositions are quite similar -- Jou himself struggled with trying to adhere to arbitrary standards without regard to practicality back in Adventure, and it’s because of this that he can figure out Iori’s mentality and reach out to him in a way he understands. For Iori, being a polite and respectful person in general, it’s only natural to expect that he would take very well to Jou being an admirable and honest model citizen.

Iori also receives his initial Digimental consultation from Koushirou in 02 episode 3, and, like with how Daisuke and Miyako also have some degree of personality traits relevant to the characters they inherit their Crests from, Iori also has some characteristics that evoke Koushirou as well, most prominently his tendency towards politeness and deference (albeit for different reasons). While they don’t end up following similar paths for the rest of the series due to Koushirou’s “curiosity” being more about intellectual knowledge and Iori’s “curiosity” being more about human behavior and psychology, Koushirou does correctly identify Iori as having the potential for that kind of inquisitiveness in said episode long before the relevant character arc clearly sets in, allowing Iori to claim the Digimental of Knowledge.

With Ken

Due to the late position of when he’d joined the team and the even later position in which everyone came to like him, Ken isn’t shown necessarily bonding too deeply with many of the seniors, although it’s clear that they all came around for him in the end. That said, some of his limited interactions or interactions by proxy with the seniors end up fairly notable:

Ken has a long and extended chat with Koushirou in 02 episode 33, which is interesting because it’s a point in time when not even everyone in the 02 group itself was particularly receptive to him yet (at the time Hikari and Takeru were still maintaining silence on their stance on him, and Iori still ironing out a lot of complicated feelings about his presence). Yet Koushirou has no qualms whatsoever approaching him and picking his brain about what he knows, since Ken, as a hitherto unknown factor with a lot of background information that Koushirou could make extensive use of, has a lot to offer him. That said, he’s not just using Ken as a resource for intellectual purposes; Koushirou offers him emotional goodwill in his own way, hearing about how Oikawa had targeted Ken and even lamenting that it would have been better if the older kids had reached out to him first.

During 02 episode 25, Mimi makes an active bid to reach out to Ken when Golemon is about to destroy the dam, in the midst of everyone having an argument over whether to allow him to help (and not only that, she’s vehement about doing so). Recall that Mimi is forgiving to a fault, allowing herself to get beaten up by Digitamamon in 02 episode 14 and refusing to give up on him despite knowing he was actively brainwashed -- so it stands to reason that she’s actually one of the most receptive to Ken, even moreso than the more emotionally overwhelmed Miyako, and offering him a chance to join in (she’s never really been depicted as the type to hold grudges).

During Iori’s consultation of him in 02 episode 35, Yamato makes a remark regarding Ken pointing out that he and Takeru have technically gone through the same experience in witnessing the death of a partner, which means he’s actually willing to cast Ken in a sympathetic light at this point! Once Ken has integrated more smoothly with the others, Yamato and Ken work together in 02 episode 42, and they get along swimmingly with zero discomfort at all (not only that, Yamato’s dropped the honorific, going from 02 episode 35′s “Ichijouji-kun” to the more casual “Ichijouji”). Not bad!

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Partners {7}*

OA Zidan/Zeeko Zaki x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Angst, Drama, Action, Multiple POV changes, Talk and Mild depiction of Sex Trafficking, Racism Implied, Possibly Triggering Content, Character Drugging, Violence, Groping, Implied Blood, Plot, Mild NSFW, PLENTY OF WORDS

Words: 9k

Summary: You’re a damn good FBI agent in your own right. It is definitely partly to do with how well you’ve been trained and partly to do with you not letting anything or anyone distract you. You have a six-year plan that you’re fast-tracking for four. After being transferred from your office in Tampa, you’ve been sent to New York, which you’ve labeled the “big leagues.” Your first day there, after being introduced to your new partner OA Zidan you realized you’ve moved out of the frying pan right into the pot of distraction. A year later and your growing attraction for your partner still hasn’t been snuffed out.

Note: This is a first for me writing about a TV show and interjecting into it. Let’s see how this goes. I hope you guys enjoy this. As always, thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

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~~~~~~~~~~~

The slinkiness of the dress was not missed by you. Your fingers noticed it once you pulled it from the shopping bag. It was a pretty dress. You checked yourself in the mirror of the bathroom again, turning in every direction so you could see how you looked in a dress you probably would have chosen for yourself in Miami. The black sequins looked good against your skin, and the accent gold chains around your neck that draped down your body between your breasts made them look even more inviting than usual. You wondered who’d picked this dress. While you looked good, if you had to run, it would probably be a matter of time before you had a nip slip or a full-on boob pop out.

You took a deep breath, released it, and leaned closer to the mirror to peer deeper into your eyes. Your nerves were beginning to get the better of you.

 “You can do this, Y/N. You’ve done this before. It’s not a big deal. You know the drill.  You. Got. This!”

 Taking a final breath, you stepped back, rearranged the neck of the dress, checked your make up then nodded to yourself, pleased at the final product. As you walked out of the bathroom and down the hall of the JOC, you tried to mentally psych yourself up. It had been a year since you’d done any undercover work and the nerves never really went away. Once you stepped into the common area where all your coworkers centered, one by one, the eyes drifted to you.

 From the right, you heard a whistle. When you turned, it was Scola.

 “Agent Y/L/N.”

 You rolled your eyes then scoffed.

 “Watch it, Scola.”

 He lifted his hands in defeat as you walked up to Jubal, Kristen, OA, and Isobel. OA’s eyes slowly raked along your body, taking in every detail.

 “This is as good as it’s gonna get,” you joked.

 “You look incredible,” Isobel complimented.

 “Eh, it’s just a dress. By the way, who picked this out?”

 “That would be Kristen’s handiwork,” Jubal said with a smile as he bumped his shoulder into Kristen’s. You picked up on the way she smiled back at him before she focused on you.

 “I see I picked right. I knew you had what was needed to carry it.”

 “All right, all right,” you pushed out, trying to change the subject. “Are we ready to move?”

 “Yes. We’re meeting our informant at a pickup spot near the heights. Let’s move people,” Jubal drilled.

 Everyone went into motion, preparing to leave. The elevator ride was chatter filled as Jubal, Kristen, and Isobel listed things off from the file you had to remember. While your brain was functioning and focused on them, your body was also functioning and focused on OA, who was beside you with his hands clutched one over the other in front of him while he stared at the dial. Though he wasn’t looking at you, your body could feel the energy coming off of his body, and it was responding.

Once you piled into the van, you situated as Lim began explaining the intricacies of the few gadgets you wore, including mics in your diamond earrings, surveillance cameras embedded into the golden chains of the dress, and two chip trackers inside the ring, and an emergency explosive. You were impressed, and you let him know it. Lim was adorable. He always looked surprised to hear a compliment on how well he did his job or that someone noticed. You always made it a point to tell Lim how good of a job he was doing. You believed it was necessary to praise people when they deserved it, especially if you saw it.

 You tried to retain the information you read in the files, along with the faces you saw. You knew the key to undercover work was memorizing as much as you could. Your success in Miami was because you were good with retaining information, thinking quickly on your feet, and solving things with small details that others would not have thought of. Your nerves were beginning to pick up, and you knew it was because while you’d been in a similar undercover situation before, this was a different monster. Whereas the sex club was a dangerous environment, it was a closed environment. With this operation, many variables would be left up to chance, and that were ever-changing. That meant more risk.

 You tried not to look at OA. You didn’t want to give him any indication that you knew he was right and that this was too dangerous. Your father’s words echoed in your head.

 “In this world, because of the color of your skin and your sex, you have to be twice as good and work twice as hard to get to where others would easily get to. You have to never show weakness. They will look for it because you’re a woman.”

 Clenching your jaw, you straightened your posture and did your best to clear your mind. This assignment wouldn’t break you, thought to yourself over and over.

 Fifteen minutes later, the van pulled up at the meet location that Jubal’s informant would come to get you to add to the shipment of women. After Lim checked that you were good with how the gadgets worked and were comfortable operating them, he gave you a comforting pat on the shoulder, a gentle squeeze, and a soft smile that spoke of his confidence in you. As he made a move to get out of the van, he stopped and came back to you.

 “Can I say something I’ve always wanted to tell you?”

 You nodded.

 “Since you came to join us here, I’ve admired you. I think you’re smart, smarter than a lot of people I’ve worked with. You’ve impressed me more times than I can count, and I’m not in the least worried about you knocking this out of the park. Remember how badass you are.” He added a wink that made you smile.

 “Thank you, Ian.”

 “Anytime, Y/N. You’re—you’re great—you’ll be great.”

 With that, he walked out and closed the doors behind him, leaving you and OA. You couldn’t help but smile. He was sweet.

“I think Ian’s got a crush,” OA uttered slightly under his breath.

 “Oh, stop it.”

 He approached you with his arms held out to you. Once he was close enough, his hands latched onto your waist.

 “Should I be worried?”

 You snorted then rose to meet his eyes. “You tell me. Should you?”

 OA studied you for a few moments before he answered.

 “I don’t know. Maybe I should.”

 The warmth from his hands was working to calm some of your nerves. You sighed out, placed your hands on his forearms, and then traced patterns into his exposed skin.

 “Don’t be jealous.”

 “Ya know something; I didn’t think I was a jealous man��before now,” he replied.

 You stared at each other, neither of you speaking. After several long moments, you looked down. OA tipped your chin up, so you looked at him.

 “I feel I have to say something right now,” OA began.

 You quirked your eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

 “You look—incredibly gorgeous.”

 Slowly your lips spread into a wide smile that got wider and wider.

 “I can’t believe the first time I see you like this is for a sting operation rather than our first date.”

 The butterflies began fluttering in your gut, making your knees go weak. You slouched back on the cold table that lined the side of the van. OA’s hands slid down to your hips and squeezed. The action did nothing for the fluttering in your belly, but it helped to stabilize you.

 “Well—maybe you’ll actually get that first date if you get the balls to finally ask for it,” you teased.

 OA’s smile began small until you were staring at his perfect teeth. With no hesitation, he lowered his lips to yours for a sweet kiss that he took control of. His lips trailed down your jaw and back to your ear where be nibbled and licked along its shell. With every lick, the butterflies in your gut fluttered more rapidly, and with every nibble, your sex throbbed. You couldn’t believe you were getting turned on at a time like this.

 “Are you okay?”

 His whisper against your ear made you sigh. It was the question you were dreading. Mustering as much gusto as you could, you put on a tough exterior.

 “I’m fine. As I said, it’s no big deal and nothing I haven’t done before.”

 The more you spoke, the less you believed your own words. When you looked at OA, he didn’t even look to believe your words.

 “You don’t have to play tough with me. I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying and when something isn’t as it seems.”

 OA moved his hands from their place on your hips to buckle behind you at the small of your back. His long fingers splayed across your bare skin, making any cold shell you were trying to wear melt away. You sighed again.

 “Okay, I am nervous, but it’s jitters. Everyone gets em’.”

 OA kissed your forehead and kept his lips there for a few seconds. “I know you can do this. It’s never been a question of if you could. It was always, should you? I know you’ve got this because you are the most incredible agent that I’ve known in a long time. You’re smart, quick on your feet, charismatic, and don’t even get me started on what an amazing profiler you are. Plus, your right hook and roundhouse is a thing of beauty.”

 You giggled, then lowered your head to his collar. Even in heels, he was still slightly taller than you. His chuckle vibrated against your forehead, and the tension in the van automatically decreased. When your laughs subsided, you bit your bottom lip and thought about your next words carefully.

 “If this goes south,” you began before OA pulled you back so he could look at you.

 “It won’t.”

 “If it does,” you tried again.

 OA cupped your jaw and slid his thumb along your lips until it was in the center, silencing you.

 “It won’t. You got this, and I have your back. We all do.”

 For some reason, that touched you more now than it ever had before. He always had your back, and so did the team. That was what a team was. You tried to keep your emotions in check, but the longer you saw the compassion in his eyes that felt more and more like something more intimate than compassion, the more your emotions went haywire. You crushed your body to his for a hug. Resting your cheek against his chest, you listened to the drum of his heart, hoping it would soothe you as it had less than twenty-four hours ago.

 “Let me get this out, Omar,” you whispered, feeling your heart race.

 “If things go south, I want you to know I have loved every single minute that I’ve been your partner. Thank you for making me a better agent, and thank you for helping me see sometimes following your heart can lead to great things,” you said, somehow able the keep your voice from shaking.

 Before you could slow your racing heart, OA pulled you back again and crashed his lips to yours, making it race even more. You happen to open your eyes at the same moment he did, and while your lips danced together, your eyes spoke words that had been left unspoken in your heart.

 It took just seconds for OA’s hands to drop to your hips again and yours to begin to quickly fight with the belt he wore. As OA squeezed your hips and moaned against your lips, you managed to free him of his belt and undo the buttons of his pants. When OA’s hands slipped to your backside, he gripped it with such a roughness you knew his need and how closely it mirrored yours. His hands quickly pulled at the fabric of the dress, inching it up over your hips to reveal your thonged ass to the cold surface of the table.

 Finally free of his pants, he turned you, so you now faced the wall of the van. You bent forward, bracing your hands on the table as OA freed his member. When you felt him rub himself against your slit, you shuddered and anxiously anticipated the feel of his intrusion. As he slowly slid into you, connecting your bodies inch by inch, one hand gripped your hip, and the other covered your mouth in time to muffle the deep moan you let out.

 OA sucked in a shuddered breath, then groaned. Once he was buried to the hilt, he circled his hips, making goosebumps erupt all over your skin. OA lowered his lips to your shoulder, bit down on your flesh then began thrusting in and out of you. While his movements were slow, the force with which he rocked into you was intense. Within seconds he’d sped his movements and the force that he flicked his hips. With every move forward, it was powerful enough to have your entire body jerk from it. In no time, you’d begun rocking along with him. When he retreaded, you did too, only to slam back onto him, taking all of him.

 You could tell your movements were driving OA crazy because of the tightness of his grip on your body. He hovered over your back and went to your ear.

 “Habibi,” he whispered. “Aikhtar,” he groaned. “Eshq,” he panted.

 It took those three words to bring you to the horizon of your orgasm, and he must have known it because he sped up, slamming into you, filling you completely. It only took a few thrust and the cup of his large hand against your sex for you to whimper. As his fingers strummed your pearl, heightening your arousal making you more desperate for your release. It wasn’t long before OA was marking you as his from the inside out. 

Slowly both of you came down from your euphoric cloud. Your breathing evened out, the tremble of your body slowed, but your heart still pounded, and you knew it was just for him. Within a few minutes, OA had you dressed and presentable again, and when he was the self-controlled and professional Agent Zidan again, he pulled you against him.

 “I’m going to do everything and anything needed to make sure we get to have that date,” he said while gazing into your eyes with such intensity you knew he meant the words he spoke. “Anything,” he repeated for emphasis.

 Before you could speak, there was a knock on the van, signaling that the informant had arrived and it was showtime. OA pressed his forehead to yours for a few seconds, then kissed your nose before he backed off. You turned to the table, looking into the purse you had, and reapplied your lipstick. When you were sure you were good, you and OA hopped out of the van to join the team with them none the wiser.

 “I really wish we could put a wire on you, but I think you know what we can’t,” Isobel said.

 “I get it. I’ll probably go through a strip-search,” you filled in. Once you said it, you heard OA grumble.

 “We have the jewelry surveillance, so you’re not alone in there. We can’t talk to you, but we can hear and see what you do,” Jubal assured.

 You nodded as you went over the file one last time. Over your quiet surroundings, you all heard the signal. You gave them a nod being careful not to look at OA before you walked away from them. You didn’t think you could handle that. After taking a few steps, though, you looked back at him. He stood there with his arms crossed across his broad chest with the deepest scowl on his face that accompanied his tightly clenched jaw. Deciding to test the tech, you said the one thing you knew you could that only he would get.

 “My back, your back, we got that.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~

 -OA-

He hated this more than he hated the stares he got his first few weeks at Quantico. Those weeks were a different hell. It was a hell that tested everything he knew about himself and how who he was would connect to his work—if it could connect. Because of his culture and heritage, he got a lot of flack. He’d had to work twice as hard to prove himself even though he’d done two tours in Iraq and had earned his dues and proven himself as an asset. This hell, though, it gripped his heart tighter than anything else. He wondered if it was because what he had to lose was just way in life. If he failed, he would have to live with the shame. Now, if this failed, he’d have to live with much more. Regret. Heartbreak. They were two things he didn’t want any part of. It was your fault.

 He’d fallen in love with his partner. It was the first rule in the book. The first rule that was drilled in his head in every line he went into. In the Rangers, it was don’t get involved with your peers or form any personal or intimate connections with informants or those in the field. In the DEA, it was, go by the book and don’t get involved with anyone on any level. He’d learned how challenging and intricate undercover work was there. Here he was after all these years and all his life experiences throwing the book away, setting ablaze first, though.

 He listened to the informant drill you on everything you needed to know as he walked you to the truck you’d be in. In the back of the van with Isobel, Kristen, Jubal, and the rest of the team, he felt like he was sitting on pins and needles, but he couldn’t show any of it. He knew if he showed too much concern, it would raise curiosity about your relationship's true nature. He had to remain calm and neutral enough for a partner and not venture into the realm of the concerned lover.

 You were so good that as the truck drove with you in the back, you sang a song in French. It wasn’t just any song, though. You fed them intel of everything that was around you, how many other girls were in the back, their descriptions, scents, and any other piece of information that would help with the case. Everyone around him looked pleased, and he knew Isobel was relieved. You were showing in less than an hour why you were the right person for the job.

 “She’s got this,” Jubal said aloud while nodding his head and snapping the rubber band against his wrist, a nervous tick he’d noticed when Kristen was injured in the hospital.

 At the thought of Kirsten, he looked across to her. she was sitting with Ian, and the two were talking closely, most likely about the case, but it made him look back to Jubal for his reaction. The look on Jubal’s face didn’t give much away, but being a good profiler, he picked up on a few things. Jubal didn’t look to like how close they were. He wondered then if you and he weren’t the only ones who were fraternizing.

 The puzzle gave him something to occupy his mind instead of him worrying and thinking of worst case scenarios, and he was glad for it. After almost forty minutes, your reporting notified that the truck had stopped and everyone was being led out.

 “Here we go, people,” Isobel notified.

 The tension in the van returned tenfold as everyone’s attention went to the screens. He tagged the route the truck had taken thanks to the tracking devices you wore and calculated the quickest route to you in case things went south. He watched the feed you expertly gave. You made sure to turn in every possible direction so you could give them a quick lay of the land. Every angle Ian and Kirsten tagged, they let out an audible “yes.” You were making everyone’s job easier.

 You were led into a large house. The interior was decorated richly. The techs worked to make connections with everything in the feed, artwork, photos, and even furniture. Any of it could lead to a break. You stopped for a second, then bent forward, bringing a clear photo of four men into the frame.

 “Get that picture scrubbed. I want to know everything about all of them, even their childhood pet’s name. Come on, people. Let’s get Y/N out of there in under twenty-four hours,” Jubal drilled.

 The van came alive with chatter and activity, and he focused more intently on the feed. With his fingers steepled underneath his bearded chin, he tried to stay present.

 “File in here, ladies. You know the drill. Inspection.”

 He clenched his jaw, hating what that sounded like. He continued watching the feed. He took in the details of the room and guessed they were holding the women in a basement. The women around the room were all dressed in their best. He’d clocked bruises on some and small injuries on others. Having worked an undercover case like this one, he knew the ones with small injuries were probably the older ones that had been acquired over a year ago while the ones with bruises were newer. In situations like these, the older ones, because of their wear and tear, were abused more. They were usually kept on reserve for those with particular tastes. They were deemed the expendable ones.

 When the men approached you, they brought you into another room where two men were waiting. Once they laid eyes on you, they whistled and made catcalls at you.

 “Wow. We have an exotic one.”

 “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

 “Dulce,” you replied.

 “Ah, you were brought in with Snake, part of the special shipment from Florida. He said very good things about the women in that shipment.”

 The man approached you and slowly walked around you before he stopped in front again.

 “Where you from, honey?”

 “I can be from anywhere you like.”

 “she’s good,” Isobel voiced. “She knows giving men like that control means appeasement.”

 “So you’re a people pleaser, huh.”

 “Absolutely sugar. I please people,” you replied.

 The men laughed together before exchanging glances.

 “Well, Dulce, we gotta search you, so be a good girl as I—sample the goods.”

 He watched the man approach you. He didn’t know if he could stomach watching, but he didn’t look away.

 “Ah, very nice.” He sounded like the sleaziest of perverts, and his anger flared.

 The air in the vibe went from tense to uncomfortable. They all knew what was happening. He was glad he couldn’t see your face. As soon as he thought it, you were moved, and you now stood in front of a mirror, and your reflection was now what he saw. The man in a burgundy button-down and black slacks was before you—on you. He walked behind you then brought his hands around to cup your breasts.

 “Son of a--.”

 Clenching his jaw, he continued watching. The sleazeball's hands slid down your abdomen.

 “Everyone look away,” Isobel ordered.

 He did not. When he saw the asshole’s hand creep to your crotch, he was ready to end this whole thing. The look on your face was a detached one. You didn’t look as if it phased you.

 “Hey! What’re you doing? She’s for the boss. No one is to touch her.”

 The informant came into the frame just in time before the perv groped you any further.

 “I’m sure Boss would want us to make sure she’s clean.”

 “You’re just trying to get your rocks off. You know how he feels about the first touch. Should I tell him that you dirtied his entertainment for the night?”

 The two men faced off, but the informant didn’t back down.

 “You’re lucky you’re so high up, Snake.”

 “Shut the fuck up. Know your place. You, out.”

 You walked to the door with Snake behind you. While everyone else in the room released a relieved sigh, he didn’t. This was but a tiny victory. There would be many more tests and close calls before the night was done.

 “I’ll get you to the bathroom upstairs. It is next door to the office. You have three minutes. Use them wisely. I’ll be back to bring you to them.”

 A little while later, you walked into the bathroom and released a breath. He could tell you forgot about the camera on you as you allowed your nerves to show—just a little. He wished he could be there to help in any way you’d let him, but he wasn’t. He even wished you could hear him. After a fifteen or twenty second reprieve, you were sneaking out the bathroom door to the office next door. Once inside, you began rummaging through cabinets, drawers, folders, and even the trash, giving them a glance at anything you came across. You moved so quickly that each analyst worked on each piece of data your lens came across.

 “I think I found something,” you said, opening a folder with the letters “NDB” tapped across its cover. You flipped through the pages giving them two or three seconds each page to capture it in a screenshot.

 “Yes, Y/N, that’s it,” Jubal cheered on.

 “That has to be a record with getting in,” Isobel said more to herself than anyone else.

 “It looks like these are future plans. I have names, dates, locations, pictures even.”

 “That’s all we need, right,” Kristen inquired.

 “I mean,” Jubal began.

 “No. while this is good, we need a clear shot of them all in the room and to hear talk about any attack as well as get them in some sort of incriminating situation. With that, we got 'em dead to rights,” Isobel clarified.

 “Fuck!”

 It was an outburst he hadn’t expected. He’d been trying to hold it together, but the thought of you being there any longer really was not sitting right with him. the eyes in the van trailed to him. No doubt they were shocked to see him lose his cool. No one said anything about it, though. He watched as you snuck out of the office after putting everything back to make it in the bathroom. Once the bathroom door clicked shut, Snake was there to retrieve you.

 “Change of plans. You girls are meant to be eye candy. Sort of like a look but don’t touch event. He likes to use this as his foreplay. Keep a cool head, and remember you’re not trying this on for the day. You live this. Act accordingly.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 -Y/N-

Snake led you into another part of the house that was filled with girls and about ten men that were being entertained by the chosen girls. You looked around, clocking your exits and the possible escape routes first, then took inventory of the girls and finally the men. Snake left your side but not before giving you a stern look as if to remind you that your life was not the only one at stake here. You didn’t need a reminder.

 Your encounter in the room was a quick reintroduction that woke your ass up to the real dangers that you’d now found yourself in. Back in Miami, you’d found yourself in a similar situation, and the only way you were able to get through it was to detach from it. You mentally put yourself in the frame of mind of a different person and became them. It made it easier. You knew it was what you would have to do now.

 “Dulce, Dulce, Dulce, Dulce,” you whispered to yourself before you took a deep breath and slowly released it. When you did, you decided to fake it until you had it. Your first move was to take a lap around the room. You still had to locate the SVU agent on no intel. The department was reluctant to share any information for fear of a leak because of the case's sensitive nature and how long their agent had been undercover. So you were running on nothing but the assurance that if possible, they would make contact.

 One lap turned to two, but before you could do a third, one of the men approached you, cornering you.

 “Why hello. I haven’t seen you before.”

 You pasted on a sugary sweet smile and leaned against the wall. “Oh, no? I’m new.”

 The man smiled, giving you a chill.

 “I like new. I like to break in the new thoroughbreds.”

 He grabbed your wrist and began dragging you through the room. His grip was tight, but you didn’t make a sound. You could see he was dragging you toward a couch. From the corner of your eye, you saw one of the girls watching you. Her long brunette hair framed her face, and her plum-colored lipstick gave her a youthful glow. Before you could take in any more details, the man dropped onto the couch and released your wrist.

 “Dance.”

 You hesitated, caught off guard by his actions and the command.

 “All right, darlin, no need to get rough.”

 You swayed from side to side in front of him in slow movements using the time to formulate a plan. Slowly you turned your back to him as you began winding your waist. It was then you noticed a dangerous looking man across the room also watching your every move. Snake approached him, whispered, and nodded in your direction. Bingo, you thought. Adding to the show you were putting on, you trailed your hands along your body and beginning at the outer parts of your thighs, up along your hips. When you reached your stomach, you brought them up to cup your breasts, all the while staring at the man across the room. Turning from him and back to the younger gentleman on the couch, you smiled, bit your bottom lip, and winked.

 “You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

 You nodded.

 “Do you know what naughty girls get?”

 You shook your head.

 “This.”

 The man gripped his appendage and shook it for emphasis.

 “Come get this cock, slut.”

  As he lunged for you, you saw Snake approach. He whispered to the man before he made contact, and the look on his face went from lust riddled to fearful. He straightened his clothes, then walked away.

 “he says get a glass of champagne and sit.”

 You took the glass of champagne that Snake offered you and sat on the now empty couch. You knew that you had him on the hook. You’d expected it to be more work than that. For the next few hours, on the couch was where you remained. You watched every immoral thing the men did to the women and sat through it all. The first hour was difficult because every injustice you saw you wanted to remedy, but by hour two and three, you’d found a way to tune it out.

 A few hours later, you were brought over to the boss. You recognized him from the pictures in the files. His eyes roamed your body, taking in every detail. It was a full two minutes before he spoke.

 “You name.”

 “Dulce.”

 He chuckled. “Ha, the Spanish word for sweet. Are you sweet?”

 “That’s for you to find out, I guess.”

 No words followed. The way he looked at you made your skin crawl. It was the look of a true psychopath. He was the worst kind, though, a hypocritical one, one that sought to subjugate that which he hated. He preached up and down how whites were the superior race, and any others were inferior and seen as dirty, but here he was eying you like he planned to give you a thorough cavity search knowing damn well your skin was not white.

 You took in the details and learned his ticks. From the way his jaw flinched every few minutes to the way he held on to the arm of the chair, you knew he was trying to hold tightly to something inside of him. Men like this often had a secret side to them.

 “Sit.”

 Doing as you were told, you sat. He continued his conversation. Again the girl with brunette hair caught your eye. She was watching every move you made, and that fact alone told you she was the SVU agent. It was a hunch, an unproven one. The mention of an attack had your attention going back to the man seated beside you. His hand came out to clasp your upper thigh. His fingers between your crossed legs holding on as if he owned you. Men like him always thought people were property to own, use, then trade.

 “Just make sure everything goes off without a hitch. We’ve worked too long for his, and too many lives have been lost for it all to be for naught.”

 “Don’t worry. As we speak here, they are setting up the event location. By this time tomorrow, we’ll have our victory. That is why we’re here tonight—to celebrate.”

 You hoped those in the van got that.

 “Maybe it’s time to take your turn,” one of the men suggested.

 The Boss’s eyes landed on you before he brought them to his hand on your thigh. “Soon. You go sit there,” he ordered.

 You stood and walked over to the brunette who’d been watching you for the last few hours and sat beside her. You didn’t want to give yourself away, so you said nothing. In undercover work, you never knew who had flipped. Pretending to be someone else twenty-four-seven took its toll, and many blurred the lines forgetting who they really were. You didn’t know if she was one of them. If she were, she’d give you up in a heartbeat.

 Instead of giving yourself up, you decided to play it cool and observe. One way or another, she would show who she really was. The scene before you quickly got old. No one touched you or the Burnett you sat beside. It was like they all knew their place and didn’t even dare question it. They didn’t touch you, but they sure watched. You’d caught so many of them eye-fucking you it was seriously making you sick. For a second, your mind ran on OA and if he’d seen the scene in the backroom. As quickly as your mind dashed to him, you forced it away. Clear head, you reminded yourself. The easiest way to end up dead was to lose focus.

 A middle-aged man in grey suit pants and a matching grey button-down that was unbuttoned one too many buttons stopped in front of the two of you. He smiled and eyeballed the brunette first, then you.

 She kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Keep walking, Pete. Even you’re not dumb enough to touch one of Lowball’s treats. You know he likes them clean, and you also know what he’ll do to ya if he sees one print.”

 This so-called Pete rolled his eyes, sighed, then walked away mumbling something underneath his breath.

 “Loser,” she finished.

 That was when your eyes met.

 “You’re new.”

 “What of it?”

 She smiled, then continued chewing her gum.

 “What’s your name, sweetie?”

 “Dulce.”

 “Ah, I like sweet things.”

 She trailed her pointer up over your exposed knee until it made it’s way to the hem of your short dress. Once there, it lingered, seductively tracing the hem.

 “Your print doesn’t count?”

 She smiled, then leaned to your ear. Her lips were close enough for you to feel them.

 “Nope. He likes to watch. Take a look.”

 You slyly glanced to the one she’d called Lowball, and sure enough, he was watching the two of you like a hawk on his perch.

 “See. He gets off on it, especially if the new treat has to be broken in. Do you?”

 You turned to look at her, your lips were centimeters apart, but you didn’t back down.

 “Do I what?”

 She smiled, bit her bottom lip then spoke. “Need to be broken in.”

 You slowly smirked then bit your own bottom lip. Two can play this game.

 “Depends on who’s doing the breaking,” you replied.

 The brunette smiled, then closed the gap between you, pressing her lips to yours. Before you knew it, she was taking charge of a sultry kiss. She rolled her tongue around yours then sucked. As she did, you felt her hand cup your breast. Your first instinct was to pull away, but you also knew that was the wrong instinct. This was a test. You allowed her to kiss you, then battled her for control. After a minute, the kiss was still going, but once you thought of it, she pulled away, sucking her bottom lip.

 “Was I your first?”

 You gave her a faux shy smile. “No”

 She smiled wider.

 “Hey, lowball. This stallion is a certified good time.”

 She looked away from you for a few seconds and looked to Lowball before she smiled wider.

 “Let’s go.”

 You allowed her to lead you by the hand through the room filled with sex and drugs until you were in a hall. Neither of you spoke, and when you looked behind you, there was Lowball with his eyes on you.

 “I’m Tommi, by the way,” the brunette said with a smile.

 Soon you walked inside of a bedroom that was made of luxury but built for a sleaze. The room was filled with glass and leather. It even smelled like leather. The more you walked into the room, the more detail you took in. The linen on the bed was black silk, and there was even a mirror above the bed.

 “Go get ready, Tommi. Let me have five minutes with this beauty.”

 Your gut tensed, and Tommi hesitated, looking at Lowball.

 “Aww, you’re going to have fun without me, daddy?”

 Her whine was loud. Lowball smiled.

 “Don’t worry, angel, I promise you’ll be here for the fun stuff.”

 Tommi glanced at you, then back to Lowball, then shrugged as she walked to another door inside the bedroom. Before she closed the door behind her, you noticed her hand making fists in a staggered pulse pattern. Instantly you recognized it as a common sign you’d learned at Quantico. It meant you’re not alone or among friends. Tommi was the undercover agent with SVU. You looked to Lowball who stared at you as if he were trying to figure you out and unnerve you. You wouldn’t let it work.

 “Dulce, cute name. how are you going to prove it?”

 “The easiest way to find out if something is sweet is to taste it,” you teased, uncrossing and crossing your legs again. 

His eyes dropped to them, and that was where they remained. After too long, he stood and walked over to the bar. You heard the clinking of glass and crystal and anxiously waited for either him or Tommi to come back in. when he turned to you again, he held two glasses filled with a brown liquid. When he sat again, you watched him dig into his pant pocket and come back out with a small clear packet with white powder inside of it.

 Fuck, you thought. Many perps who operated sex trafficking rings liked to string their girls out before spending time with a perp. The gossip was the drugs always made the girls more compliant and easier to take advantage of. You watched him pour the contents into one of the glasses. Your stomach fell.

 “Oooh, daddy, now we’re really starting this party,” Tommi interjected as she crossed the room dressed in a sexy burgundy lingerie set.

 “Mmm, you look, wonderful angel,” Lowball complimented.

 He held out the glass that was substance-free to Tommi and held the one that he’d just laced to you. You hesitated. You knew precisely what the plan was after you drank that, and depending on what it was, you had thirty minutes before your choices would no longer be your own.

 “There are two ways out of this room, Dulce. Covered in, or filled with my superior cum or dead. Your choice,” Lowball informed.

 Tommi caught your eye. She sat on Lowball’s knee, rubbing his arm, but her eyes were dark.

 “Take a ride with me, Dulce,” she chimed.

 Sighing, you took the glass and swirled the liquid around, examining how undetectable whatever it was he’d poured in was. You downed the drink in one rise and tried to keep from vomiting. Shit was about to get real, you thought.

 Lowball smiled then stood, making Tommi stand as well.

 “Good job Dulce. I knew you’d see it my way,” he said before he walked away to the door.

 “I’ll be back in as much time as it takes that to kick in. You girls have some fun.

 The door closed behind him, and you gasped. Tommi was beside you in seconds. She dipped a little lower to come face to face with your earrings.

 “She’s just ingested Rolong. It’s a nastier version of Rohypnol these assholes craft themselves. You have thirty maybe forty minutes to figure out a way to grab control of this sting, or else your girl will find herself in a situation she won’t be able to avoid.”

 She looked at you, and though she looked relatively calm, you could still see some sort of panic in her eyes.

 “I have this.”

 She dug in her cleavage and pulled out a syringe. You had no idea how she’d concealed it for its size.

 “What—what is this?”

 “It’s adrenaline. It’s not much, and it won’t have a big of an impact as I’d like, but it will help with the effects. It’ll buy us maybe fifteen minutes,” Tommi explained.

 “Fine.”

 You held out your arm, giving her permission to inject you.

 “It’ll work better to your thigh.”

 Tommi pulled up your dress to find the right spot, then lowered the needle. Before she inserted the tip into your skin, she looked back at you. You gave her a nod to proceed. The injection's sting was sharp, and it felt as if it continued to go for so long.

 “Here we go,” Tommie whispered before she administered the medical cocktail.

 The burn in your thigh began almost immediately. It was a burn that increased, a burn that intensified until it felt like a terrible muscle spasm without the pain. Once the burn subsided, you could have sworn you felt the drug course through your body. It could have been your imagination or the effects of the other drug you’d ingested. You didn’t know.

 “In a minute or two, you’ll feel like you’ve stuck your finger in a socket. Try to remain calm. Remember, when he returns, he will be expecting you to be disoriented and pliable. You have to play along, or he will know something is not right. Do you understand me?”

 You nodded though your head felt heavy, and you felt as if you were about to topple over any minute. The woman in front of you was no longer clear or alone. There looked to be three or four of her. You tried to snap yourself out of it, and that was when you felt your heart begin to race. It began beating ten times faster than it had before. The only other time you recalled it beating like this was with OA. You heard Tommie speak again, but you didn’t quite understand what she said. It sounded muffled and distorted as if her voice was from a static transmission.

 “Come, you have to be ready by the time he gets back,” Tommie said.

 She walked over to the bench in the bedroom and returned with a black two-piece lingerie set along with a pink robe. This was not new to you. Men like these liked to see their prize displayed in as little clothes as possible. You dressed with Tommi’s help. With each passing minute, you felt the effects of both the adrenaline and the drug. Also, with each passing minute, your movements became slower and slower.

 Once you were changed, you looked at yourself in the mirror, and you looked ready to seduce any man. You staggered to the bed and then dropped onto it, unable to even carry the weight of your own body anymore. Tommi sat beside you and opened her mouth to say something but the door suddenly opened. Tommi laid on top of you and whispered for you to play along. She nuzzled your neck while caressing your thigh.

 “Don’t let me interrupt. I think I’ll watch for a moment,” Lowball said.

 Tommi looked at him and smiled. “I have a better idea. Let me entertain you while the Rolong takes full effect.”

 She stood and walked to Lowball, who was seated a few feet from the bed. The sound of loud pop-rock filled the room, and Tommi’s hips moved along with it. You laid there feeling as if there was a war going on inside of you. Two impulses were fighting for control. One impulse wanted to lay there, do nothing and stare at the ceiling that had begun spiraling as if it were a kaleidoscope. The other impulse wanted to get up and dance as if this were the last night you would be alive. Your limbs didn’t know which to listen to. Every time your muscles twitched to stand, your upper body refused to obey.

 Your brain found it next to impossible to think of one thing. It continued to jump from topic to topic, making you dizzy in the process. You tried to fight against the effects of the roofie you’d been given. You tried to aid the adrenalin pumping through your body, trying to work as a diluting agent. Several times time felt as if it lagged. It felt as if even your blinking was slowed, taking forever to close your eyes and open them again.

 When you felt the bed dip, you didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity. Looking to your right, you saw Tommi. She came to your ear and whispered.

 “We have ten minutes,” she whispered before she climbed on top of you then pulled Lowball into her embrace. You laid there watching, becoming more and more unsure of what was happening.

 “I think she’s ripe for the plucking.”

 Tommi giggled, then looked down at you.

 “I think we’d have a better time making her watch first. She needs to know what you like, daddy.”

 He looked to be contemplating things, and as he did, his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every detail. You felt a hand slide down your body, beginning at your neck and down the center of your body until it reached your navel.

 “I like that idea.”

 With that, he pulled Tommi to him, leaving you there to watch and listen. Your being must have felt how precarious your situation was because a strong will to fight overcame you, giving you renewed energy.

 “I’ve changed my mind.”

 Lowball pushed Tommi aside and climbed on top of you, burying his face in your neck.

 “The best way to learn is to do. She will catch on quick if she wants to live.”

 Almost as soon as his hands began roaming your body more vigorously, screams could be heard, but Lowball didn’t budge. When he heard the sound of a gunshot and glass shattering, he rolled off of you, dropping to the floor beside the bed. The room began to fill with smoke.

 “Stay here,” Tommi shouted.

 Everything seemed to move in slow motion, but real-time at the same time. You desperately tried to keep up.

 “Snap out of it, Y/N. Get up. Get up!”

 Though you were trying, your limbs were not obeying you. The sound of gunshots became louder and more persistent. Coughing, you tried to focus on making yourself get up. You tried to will your body to cooperate. Clenching your jaw, you screamed.

 “Get up!”

With much effort, you rose then bent forward until you were able to sit up straight. Instead of celebrating this small feat, you willed yourself to stand. You stood then tried to steady yourself. Before you could take a step, someone barreled into you, taking you to the ground. That was when your muscle instinct took over. You swung a punch that connected with someone’s jaw. Not waiting for them to retaliate, you began fighting back, not knowing who you punched. When you felt knuckles connect with your face, it had a strangely sobering effect like a second injection of adrenaline.

 You rolled onto them and proceeded to punch, not stopping. You felt a gun to your back. Before pausing, you punched the person underneath you once more. When you did that, the person behind you tried to grab you but got your robe instead, pulling it clear off you. As they did that, it gave you reprieve enough to do one of the tricky moves you’d learned at Quantico, which allowed you to flip the perp over your shoulder to land on the ground. You scurried around for the gun, praying you found it in time, especially with the fog in the room. When you grabbed it, you used the butt of the gun to slam down into the face of whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves your adversary.

 You stood and staggered to the door, then leaned on it trying to catch your breath. You checked the magazine in the Glock you held. Satisfied, you took a few more breaths trying to overcome your debilitation.

 “Let’s go, Y/N. You’ve got this.”

 You pushed yourself off the door then proceeded to go through the hall, fighting every step of the way. Every few moments, you leaned against a wall to catch your breath. A few gunshots sounded behind you, making you crouch and aim backward to clip the kneecap of one of the despicable men who worked for Lowball. When they reached for their weapon, you shot again, seeing the bullet puncture their chest. While they pushed out their last breath, you continued on.

 Getting to the stairs that led downstairs, you found bodies littered along the way.

 “Stop right there!”

 In front of you, the same man from the inspection stood there, pointing his pistol right at you.

 “Ha, of course, it was you. I knew there was something off about you.”

 “Guess you should have trusted your gut. Lower your weapon, and we’ll offer you a good deal,” you countered.

 “Not a chance.”

 “Listen dickhead. Do you hear that? That silence says your side has lost, and mine has won.”

 He lunged for you, and his shoulder knocked the wind out of you as he took you down, making both of you tumble down the stairs. You felt each step the entire way down. When you’d finished tumbling, you laid there, unable to move.

 “You bitch!”

 He climbed on you and wrapped his hands around your throat, and began squeezing. You gagged and coughed. It was then that the roofie took the strongest hold of you. Your entire body felt heavy, and even the thought of clawing his eyes out was too much. Every time you lifted your hands to do the job, they only plopped back down. You knew you were seconds from blacking out and seconds from death.

 He pulled one hand away, reached into his shirt pocket, and uncapped a needle with his mouth.

 “Let’s see you survive this!”

 He stabbed the needle into the side of your neck that he held with one impossibly strong hand. You screamed as he injected the substance into your bloodstream and, in the same breath, managed to reach the gun that was a few feet away from you and mustered enough energy to aim at his gut. A gunshot sounded, and the man’s movements above you paused for a moment before he tried to begin again. It was enough of a pause for you to take better aim with the gun, this time releasing another bullet in the center of his chest. He slumped forward enough for you to overpower him, but still, he fought. You rolled onto them and released one more bullet right in the center of his head.

 It was then you shouted out before you dropped onto him, then flopped to your back to stare at the ceiling. The sounds of gunshots around you slowed to only a few every so often. You didn’t know how long you laid there. It could have been five, ten, or more minutes. When you felt able, you sat up and stood, using the wall to hold your weight.

 With the gun in hand, you walked through the large home. You felt half-dead, and you knew it was whatever he’d injected you with. Your steps became slower and slower. Your movements more and more lagging. Still, you continued pushing through door after door, trying your best to fight. You slowly pushed through yet another door and found bright scope lights and red laser dots on your lingerie-clad body.

 “Freeze!”

 You tried to raise your hands but only made it halfway.

“Y/N!”

 Hearing OA’s voice, your body finally gave out. Before you touched the floor, OA was there, engulfing you in his arms.

 “I got you, baby. I  got you,” he whispered.

 You felt him tapping your cheeks, making you look at him blearily.

 “Are you hurt?”

 “Help me up.”

 OA used his strength to stand you up. Kristen was to your side in seconds, and in a few more seconds, OA had draped his FBI jacket around your shoulders before he scooped you in his arms. Unable to fight the drugs in your system any longer, you passed out sure of your safety in OA’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

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[bebepac]

The Double Date Mistake?

I am participating in @wackydrabbles​ prompt # 92 “I don’t think that was meant to go there.” will appear in bold.

This is also chapter 2 of The Meet:  To catch up on what you’ve been missing of the Meet so far Please click:  The Meet Masterlist

Original Post Date: 05/01/2021 at 3:15PM

The Book:  TRR

The Pairing:  Liam x F!OC (Liam x Jilian) 

Word Count: 1948

Summary: Jilian goes on a double date with Bebe and meets Leo for the very first time.  Jilian and Bebe share how they first met each other to the guys.  

Warnings: Sexual innuendos.  Profanity.  

Leo and Liam belong to pixelberry, Jilian belongs to @queenjilian borrowed for the duration of this series. All others are my own to help us tell the story.  

“And done. He has your number now Jili. Now fly my little birdies fly.”  

She thought he would text right away but he didn’t.  The whole way to Bebe’s apartment the twenty minute drive Jili’s phone was silent.

Bebe looked at Jili as she glanced at her phone.  What the actual hell?

She texted Jilian.

“Bebe why the hell are you texting me? I’m sitting right next to you?”

“I was just making sure your phone was on.”  

“I mean he’s still working Bebe.  He can’t just drop everything and just start texting away.”

“The hell he can’t. What in the actual fuck is wrong with you bruh?” Bebe grumbled as she angrily typed on her phone.

“Wing Woman are you trying to crash this plane?”

“The mother  hasn’t even taken off yet with you two trying to pilot it. I’m gonna need you to get your life together Jili.”  

The driver pulled to a stop. “Damn I really wanted to see how this turned out.”

Bebe got out of the car in a huff.

“I’ll let you know.”   Jili called out the window to her.

Jilian wasn’t going to let it stress her out.  He was still at work. She knew her job got busy at times, and she couldn’t just sit on her phone and do nothing.  As she was walking up the stairs to scan her door key fob, the phone rang.

It was a local number she didn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

“Jilian. It’s Liam.”

“Hi Liam.”

“I apologize for not texting or calling sooner.  Things got busy at work.”

“Oh I figured that was what happened.”  

"Bebe is something else. I feel a little attacked. I can tell it's from a place of love though."

"She's my best friend Liam. My true sister from another mister."

"So it's safe to assume you are single?" Liam inquired.

"I am, and for you the same?"

"Yes Jilian I am. Is it forward of me to say maybe we can change that for each other. I would really like to see you again. I'm off next Friday would you be free then?"

Jilian sighed.

"Friday is my date night."

"Oh. I just assumed you being single you weren’t seeing anybody even casually."

"With Bebe. We restaurant hop. We're self proclaimed foodies. 

Do you have any friends maybe we could double?”

“My brother, both him and Bebe have big personalities, I think they’d really get along.  Think she would be okay with that?”

“Yeah I think I could convince her.”  

They continued to talk, and about everything under the sun.  Liam was funny and witty and kept her attention.

She began to realize how much she had in common with the charming Liam Rys.  

She had cuddled into her bed under her covers laughing and chatting with him.  She finally rolled over realizing it was almost dawn.

“Oh my God! Is that the sun?!?!?!” she shrieked, surprised into the phone.

“I’m so sorry Jilian I completely lost track of time.”

“I have to go, I have to be at work in forty five minutes!!!”

Jilian said her goodbyes to Liam and hurried to work.  

Right when Jilian was sitting in her office reading over her chart  for her first patient’s checkup, there was a delivery.  

A large coffee drink had been delivered to her with a sweet gooey cinnamon bun.

“Gift for you Jilian Winchester.”  

Liam was really sweet.

She texted him thank you.

He had let her know he had an extra espresso shot added to her coffee.

Liam was a lifesaver.  

*^*^*^*^* The Double Date *^**^*^*^*

When Jili and Bebe got to the restaurant  Liam and Leo were already seated at the table both stood to greet them.  

Liam softly kissed  Jili’s cheek.  

Bebe glanced at Leo.  He was cute, but he was probably about five inches shorter than Bebe, not to mention Bebe was wearing heels making her tower over Leo.

Liam changed the subject breaking the ice between everyone, and the conversation between the couples started flowing.  

Jilian slipped in the subject of Liam and Leo honestly not looking much like each other.  

“We’re half brothers, we have different mothers. But don’t get it twisted Bebe.  I can scale you like Mount Everest. Taller women don’t intimidate me one bit.”

“Um….thank you for that blatant honesty…. Jili will you accompany me to the restroom please?”  

“Excuse us for a moment.”  Jili smiled politely.  

“Absolutely not Jili!!!!!”  Bebe was adamant when the door to the bathroom closed.  

“Bebe I didn’t know!  I swear when he said older brother, I was thinking he looked like him.  You would think older brothers are taller, bigger, and wiser. He is funny though.  You two do have similar personalities. Maybe try to focus on that Bee.  Let’s just try to have a fun time.  You don’t have to see Leo again.  But I know I want to see Liam again. I like him.”  

“You owe me big for this!!!”

Both women come back to the table.  Their drink orders had arrived.  Bebe takes a long sip on her drink.  

“That’s what I’m talking about!”  Leo smiled.  “A girl after my own heart.”  

“How did you and Bebe meet Jilian?”  

“We actually met in NOLA. We were both presenting at a medical conference.  Bebe for the Pharma side, because she’s a pharmacist,  and me for medical for being a nurse practitioner focused in the at risk population.”

Leo eyes flit to Bebe.

“So you’re a drug dealer?”  

Bebe smiled.  “ Legal Drug Dealer. Yep, that’s what I call myself. I’m slinging pills to pay the bills.”  

“I can dig it.”  

“We met the night before our conference began, in a bar.”  

When Jilian walked into the bar she noticed her right away.  There was a woman at the bar,  drinking her drink telling what appeared to be a funny story that had multiple people’s attention.  All were laughing with her.   She had to be a local. Jili thought.  

She had strings of beads around her neck.  

“What can I get ya?”  the bartender asked.  

She looked at Bebe.  “I want whatever she’s having.”  Bebe was the life of the party.  

“Well I did a little pre-gaming at the drive through daiquiri shop though. 

But mostly Hurricanes.  Get her a Hurricane Sal.”  

The bartender winked at Bebe.  

“Don’t skimp on the good stuff either!”  She yelled out.

Jilian’s eyes widened when the bartender  brought her the drink.

Bebe held up her glass to clink with Jilian’s glass.

“Laissez le bon temps rouler!!!!!”   The crowd screamed in agreement at Bebe’s declaration.

“What?”  

“LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL!!!!!”  

Jilian took a long drink of the cocktail.  No wonder.  

“Yep! You like it.  I’m Bebe, what’s your name?”

“Jilian.”  

“I’m gonna call you Jili.  What brings you to NOLA?”  

“Work, a conference.”  

“Bleh you said the “W.” word.  That’s not existing in my life right now.  We’re here, we’re alive, no regrets Jili.  Let your hair down and enjoy yourself.  I mean literally.  That bun is a buzz kill.”  

Jili pulled the pins out of her hair shaking out her locks.  

“So much better!!!! You’re a babe!!!  See they’re already looking at you differently.  We’re not interested though.  Unless they’re buying more drinks.”  

Jili glanced at the guys that were now looking in her direction.  

“You’ve got a lot of bead necklaces going on.”   Jili commented.  

“There are two ways to get beads in NOLA.  Buy them or earn them.”

Jili looked at Bebe and raised her eyebrow with a smile.

“Let me guess, your ass hasn’t spent a dime tonight.”  

Bebe took a long sip of her hurricane.  

“Nope.  Not a single dime.  Including alcohol.  I'll tell you what Jili.  Life’s too short.  I’m not going to regret any of my choices.  I spent a year in Costa Rica, living my life Pura Vida.”

“Pure Life.”  Jilian smiled.  Bebe was a carefree spirit, and people gravitated to her.

“We’re only here for a blink Jili.  How do you want your story to be told?”

She decided to throw caution to the wind and party the night away with Bebe.

Jilian’s alarm went off the next morning.  She was incredibly hung over as she tried to pull herself together.  

She had a random memory of her and Bebe walking down  Bourbon Street singing “Lean on Me”  while they were linked arm and arm.  The drunk leading the more drunk back to the hotel.

She smiled, straightening her black business suit.  She was about to pull her hair up into her signature bun but decided to let her tresses fall free instead.  

As she was getting checked into the convention she slipped her ID badge and program of speakers, herself among the list.  

She heard her laugh.  Jili whipped her head around and saw Bebe at the back of the line with two others.  Bebe was wearing a bright pink business suit, and her shoes and clutch had the print of medications on it.  

“The legal drug dealers have arrived!!!! Big Pharma in da house!!!!!!”  

Jili laughed, shaking her head.  

“That’s how we met Liam.”  

“We found out later we lived near each other, and made plans to meet up.  Been friends ever since.  That was like six years ago.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask us how we met.”  Leo asked.

“I assume you are brothers…. You met… at birth?”

Bebe shook her head at Leo.

Everyone was calm after not to mention the alcohol free flowing.  They headed to  a lounge after dinner, called Blue Notes.  The music there was full of soul and blues.  

The drinks continued. The music there stirred the soul.  

“May I have this dance?”  Jili nodded, taking Liam’s hand.   He held her close.  

Leo eyed Bebe.   “You know, I have always been one to have a huge case of FOMO.  So you and me let’s hit the dance floor too.”  

Bebe downed her drink in one swallow.  “Why the hell not.”  

They walked out to the dance floor.  With Bebe’s high heels Leo was chest level to her.  He pulled her close resting his head on her bosom.

“Um….so we’re doing this… okay…”  Bebe looked surprised but she was smiling.

Liam laughed softly when he glanced in their direction.

“I don’t think that was meant to go there.”  

“The height difference honestly never crossed my mind Jilian.  Things seemed really awkward for them for a bit, for more so Bebe.  Not so awkward now.”  

Bebe and Leo were looking at each other laughing.

“You know this is never going to happen Leo Rys.”  

“A man can dream.  Well….It could happen for the night.  I can tell you’re curious. Let me tickle your fancy tonight.”

Bebe laughed harder at him.  “You don’t give up do you Leo?”

“Nope because I get what I want.”    

“If nothing else Jilian, I think they will at least be friends from this, if nothing romantic happens.”

The next morning Liam was cooking  breakfast when Bebe walked out of Leo’s room. Leo’s sweatpants looked like capris on Bebe.  

“Good Morning Bebe. Would you like some breakfast?”  

“Sure.”

Leo walked out of the room a few minutes later.  

Liam smiled looking at the two of them.  

“Breakfast Leo?”  

“I already ate.”  Leo winked at Bebe.

Bebe choked on her orange juice.  

“Oh you were talking about bacon and eggs, sure.”  

Nope not at all awkward at all.  Liam thought as he fixed plates for himself Leo and Bebe.

Bebe was climbing in her ride share when her phone rang.

“Bebe… Liam just told me you had breakfast with him and Leo… at his apartment.  You spent the night with Leo?”  

“Leo was right, Jili.  Not all of him is fun sized.”

Tags in the comments !!!! 

[ushidoux]

Someone Else’s - Sakusa x Reader x Ennoshita

Summary: Ennoshita hasn’t completely moved on, but the love of his life has. NSFW. (~3148 words +/- due to editing)

A/N: I’m so sorry to Ennoshita stans. Also special thanks to @bokutosmommy for helping me bounce off ideas.

---

“Thank you so much, Ennoshita-san!”

Ennoshita smiled warmly as he helped the elderly woman he was treating off the examination table. She wobbled ever so slightly as she got onto her feet, and gripped tensely onto his arm but Ennoshita held her steady, reassuring her that she had him. 

“Oh, you truly are such a kind young man. And my, it is truly a shame that you haven’t yet been snatched up!”

He let out a small pacifying laugh - this topic was frequent during their sessions, and as sweet as she was, the old lady had offered up everyone from her grandchildren to her nieces around his age, and he truly wasn’t in the mood to politely look at another stranger’s picture off her flip phone on this particular afternoon. 

Especially not when the first thing that had come to mind when awakening this morning was the woman who had broken his heart, someone he had actually planned to propose to just days before she broke up with him before disappearing without a trace.

“I’m too busy working hard in order to take care of patients like you to think about dating!” He joked as he helped lead her out to the exit. As he walked her down, he snuck a glance at the clock in the hallway, noting that he was a couple minutes late for his next patient. 

He let out a sigh internally. The young man to be seen next on his list was particularly impatient and wouldn’t be happy to wait even for a second. He hoped that by the time he made it back to the room, the technicians had at least turned the room over and taken his vitals.

By the time Ennoshita made it back to the room, he could see that the professional volleyball player he had been working with for the past month had already arrived, and was sitting in the corner of the room with legs crossed and fingertips pressed together.

“Good afternoon, Sakusa-san,” Ennoshita greeted formally.

Sakusa Kiyoomi did not answer immediately, peering up at him with dark eyes over a white surgical mask. He then gave a brief nod and stood up, pulling off his jacket and draping it neatly over the back of the chair, before sitting on the examination table.

He now looked at Ennoshita expectantly. Ennoshita kept his face kind as usual - even though Sakusa did grate on his nerves just a little, doing his best to sympathize with his cold behavior. Patellar tendon injuries were common in volleyball players but they were also incredibly frustrating, and Ennoshita, having played volleyball himself back in high school, knew something or another about frustration. Plus Sakusa was known for being more than a little abrasive at baseline, at least based on what his old high school teammates had told him.

“Did you do the exercises?”

“Mm.” At least Sakusa was willing to follow instructions. 

The session went smoothly as usual, and because Sakusa made little effort to engage in conversation, Ennoshita found his mind wandering briefly intermittently.

It’s hard to believe that you were once part of the team that beat Shiratorizawa that year, Sakusa had told him flippantly the first day they’d met. Of course, he thought that; aside from the old ladies he worked with, Ennoshita wasn’t particularly outstanding and he was painfully aware of that fact. 

Even she had told him this right before he and his last girlfriend had broken up. She had been so harsh then, but even he recognized it was true. He was a safe choice, someone you don’t hesitate to present to mom and dad but don’t also brag about to your friends, someone who was dependable but you could never be desperate to be with. He had worked on that over the past year, attempting to be more outgoing, picking up a few hobbies that would make him “interesting” like mixed martial arts and salsa dancing. 

Maybe he’d impress her if they ever met again.

But for now, his life was pretty routine, unlike guys like even Sakusa before him who commanded attention (whether unwillingly or not) whenever they entered a room and were still entrenched in the fast-pace and exciting world of volleyball. 

“We’re done here, right?” Sakusa said, abruptly. 

Ennoshita looked at the time, and noted that the thirty minutes were almost up. “Yeah, let me go get the sheet for your next set of exercises,” he said, turning around to go through a set of folders on a shelf. 

While he rummaged, behind him, there was a brief knock on the door right before the door swung open and soft, light footsteps ran in.

“Omi, we’re going to be late!”

“I told you to wait outside, stop being so clingy,” he snapped back.

And Ennoshita turned around so fast he almost got whiplash - he could recognize that voice, your voice anywhere - and stared right at you, your arms affectionately wrapped around Sakusa’s shoulders while he was trying to shake you off with irritation.

You froze, the smile on your face fading, replaced with your mouth opening just slightly in shock. Ennoshita froze, the packet of exercises he was prepared to hand Sakusa slipping out of his fingers as he stood still, falling to the ground in a loud flutter.

“Chi-kun,” you whispered under your breath, your eyes wide and your heart thumping in your chest.

“___...”

You inhaled sharply, and reflexively your arms withdrew from where they rested around Sakusa’s neck, and while Sakusa had made a big deal of resisting your affection, the fact that you stopped so quickly at the sight of another man awakened a different type of discontentment in him.

“Why…” Ennoshita started, but the rest of his sentence died in his throat. Why were you here? Why were you with him? Why did you leave?

Why now?

“I… um… fuck,” you started, then stopped, shame now washing over you as you remembered how cruel you were before and how cruel you were being this very moment. You had no explanation for the fact that you had refused to answer his calls or texts, and barely offered him any type of closure aside from You’re frankly kind of boring, and I’m not sure I want to be with you anymore. 

And to see each other again, right in front of your boyfriend who was quite... particular? This wouldn’t end well. 

You found yourself rushing to leave the room, but suddenly Sakusa’s hand clamped around your wrist as you turned and he pulled hard, almost yanking you back to his side.

“Where are you going, babe?” He asked with a smirk, not looking at you but instead directly at Ennoshita who had in mere moments turned from unwitting ally to absolute enemy. He seemed to shake like paper, and Sakusa could almost read the unwritten history between you all written all over his face, and it made him angry. Maybe even furious.

Had his precious little girl also fucked this guy? Really?

Clearly so, because you never resisted his touch usually, in fact you craved it, and now you were all but worming your way out of his grasp which he kept like iron, obvious panic in your eyes as you pleaded for him to let you leave the room.

“L-let me talk to you in the car,” you half-whispered, half-begged.

“About what?” Sakusa replied coolly, his voice much louder than needed to be. 

The way you looked now to Ennoshita was like a trapped mouse and he could no longer bear it. Why couldn’t Sakusa be gentle with you? Didn’t he know you liked to be treated softly and with care? He had always treated you like you were gold, after all. 

Were you the girlfriend Sakusa complained about every so often? The one who was very sweet but overbearing? The only reason why he showed up to this place session after session after all instead of bearing the discomfort and heading back to the courts as soon as possible?

“P-please let go of her,” Ennoshita eked out in a small voice, keeping his gaze down. “It’s just that s-she and I knew each other from before and… it must be very awkward-”

Sakusa suddenly cut in with a laugh.

“Shut the fuck up. I didn’t ask.”

Ennoshita looked up with shock mirroring your own as you both watched him in surprise. Sakusa let go of your wrist, and you subconsciously rubbed the sting out of the tender skin. He walked across the room, stopping right before Ennoshita who again tensed reflexively, and bent down to pick up the dropped packet.

“This was mine, right?” He confirmed as he rose to his full height, his smile again dark as he looked down towards Ennoshita. Ennoshita nodded slowly, and you could almost hear him swallow hard.

“I’ll just take what’s mine and leave then,” he said, now moving past Ennoshita to grab his jacket. Reaching into his pocket, he replaced his face mask then walking towards you, pulled out a second one to hand to you before gripping your hand firmly again.

“Thanks for all of your help!” His voice stunk of mock cheer. For you, he unwrapped the individually wrapped face mask and dangled it before you by the tips of his fingers.

“I told you to wear these, at least when you’re in the hospital. These people are disgusting.”

And with that, Sakusa walked out hand in hand with you, the love of Ennoshita’s life.

---

“Why did you do that, Kiyoomi?”

You had spent most of the ride back to Kiyoomi’s apartment in silence, but you knew by how tightly Sakusa was gripping the steering wheel and the furrow in his eyebrow that he was probably scowling underneath his face mask the entire time. Any other time you would have reached for his free hand, and maybe he would have scowled about the unnecessary physical contact and asked you if you had sanitized your hands first before begrudgingly accepting your touch, but you would have smiled anyway and gently stroked the palm of your weird, grumpy Omi.

Any other time. But right this very moment, he deserved the opposite of compassion.

Sakusa gave you a very brief, aggravated look, then turned back to the road before him. He scoffed, noticing your pursed lips and the crossed arms over your chest. You were practically as angry as he was, stewing quietly in the passenger seat.

How dare you.

“Oh, did I hurt your ex’s feelings? Is that why you’re upset?”

“Omi…,” you said in a small, yet stern voice.

“Don’t ‘Omi~’ me. He looked at you like you fell out of the sky. Like you were an angel from above. Not like the dirty slut you are-”

“Kiyoomi!” 

He scoffed, gripping the steering wheel even tighter with both hands now.

“Don’t act like you don’t beg me to call you that when you’re bent over and I’m balls deep inside your guts. What’s the difference right now? Aren’t you always my dirty slut? Do you want me to respect you now? Is that what he did? Give you respect? Who the fuck does he think he is?”

The blood was starting to rush to your face and you wanted to scream at him for being an asshole as usual, but you could tell he was only getting more riled up by the second. You bit your lip and held your tongue, ready to unleash the moment he parked. 

But before you could say a single word the second he turned off the ignition, now that you were in the quiet, covered lot outside of his apartment complex, he reached across to your side of the car, all but ripping off the mask on your face (and his). Jerking your chin to his with the tips of his fingers, he smashed your lips to his in a kiss that was so intense, you were sure it contained most if not all the violence he had held back just minutes earlier.

Minutes that felt like seconds passed as his tongue forced itself down your throat and teeth grazed against lips and you lost the ability to breathe and to think and you were mad on whose behalf? 

All that mattered was that you got more from Omi, you wanted more from your Omi, and now you had traversed the car’s console to straddle your Omi in the driver’s seat and you were now grinding against him, and he was now pulling away -

Oh, why was he pulling away?

Breathy pants now parted your swollen, red, wanting lips and your half-lidded eyes took in the lustful eyes staring at your lips and the half-smirk now on his visage, the one that made it obvious that he knew he had already won you over and you were absolutely powerless to him, that you were his.

You paused, your arms draped around his neck, waiting, knowing that if you didn’t stop now to start up again, once you were inside, you’d fuck in the car in this dim garage and who knows who would see you?

“Since I didn’t get to beat his ass, I’m beating your pussy up instead.”

---

You had really moved on.

Now that Ennoshita had seen you in the flesh for the first time in nearly a year, he realized how much he had been holding on to the possibility of ever seeing you again, in a future where he was something other than the boring and safe choice, someone you tolerated but your heart didn’t tremble for.

And to see you with one of Japan’s top aces... Someone who had been better than him for you before you even knew of his existence. It was unbearable to think about.

He continued to stare at the ceiling dejectedly. He’d been crying literally the entire way home from work, and now on top of being sad for the love that never was, he was doubly upset for how freely his tears flowed tonight. The fact that he couldn’t even stand his ground when threatened, that he had even flinched when Sakusa got close (Was he this much of a bitch? Did you see him? No wonder you dropped him.).

He let out a cough as phlegm stuck in his throat and rubbed his eyelids. He had been laying sprawled on his back ever since he came back from work, staring at the ceiling and he was pretty sure his eyes were puffy and red.

Pitiful.

He reached for his phone and considered making a profile on Tinder, his finger hovering over the program in the app store. That would have been the right move. Move on like you had.

Instead he pulled up his photo folders, and settled on his favorite picture of you. One where you were alone and smiling for him, your face tilted just so towards the camera, and happiness crinkling your eyes. He always loved your eyes.

Reaching over his end table for the lone bottle of lotion, he pulled down his underwear with the other hand, freeing his semi-hard cock. Maybe… just maybe if he could think of you as you were when you were his, like in this picture; if he could ignore the fresh memory of you looking at him with regret in your eyes, he could feel you again with him.

---

“O-Omi… Omi! Oh my… fuck, Omi!!”

You reflexively pushed at his face as you squirmed, then trembled then flailed wildly as Sakusa slurped the absolute life out of you, tongue circling and swishing and flicking everywhere from your clit to your vestibule to inside your vagina… In fact, at some point, you were sure he’d bit ever so slightly at your labia and you let out a yelp, only for him to stuff you quiet with two of his fingers, already sopping wet with the juices dripping out of your soaking cunt.

“Suck if you can’t keep your filthy mouth shut,” he scoffed.

You moaned through the taste of his fingers, the taste of yourself. Sakusa had a way of being even meaner in bed that lit a fire inside you; the abrasiveness only seemed to get worse the more horny he got. And yet, you knew right now he was so aggressive because of the mere fact that he loved you and his pride had been shaken just thinking that someone else had once claimed you as theirs. The very fact that, germaphobe as he was, he was so deep in your thighs that parts of his skin shone with your slick was already proof of that.

“You’re moving too much,” he said sternly, his grip tightening around your thighs. You muffled an apology through a full mouth, only to be attacked with a long stroke of the tongue on your core which sent a shockwave through you and had you at a loss for words.

“Is this how you moaned for him?” Sakusa stopped suddenly, his breathy words sending a shiver of cold through your spine as they landed on your moist cunt.

You shook your head frantically.

“Good,” he said as though it were business as usual, rising to drop his pants and let his cock spring free. Even his cock looked angry, tumescent, dusky at the head and at attention, and you could feel your core ache in anticipation already. 

He flipped you like a pancake on the bed, hooking one arm around your midsection (you were already too fucked out just from his fingers and mouth to move yourself unfortunately), and positioned you into a tripod position before lining himself behind your already semi-abused entrance.

“Stay still. I’m going to fuck you like every man you’ve ever had is slamming you all at once, you dirty, dirty girl.”

---

In the dim light of Ennoshita’s bedroom, all that could be heard were soft sobs and the sound of flesh stroking flesh, and soon there were cries of your name and the sobs grew louder and more pained until release which came out as a deep, guttural, desperate groan. He was aching for someone who no longer existed. A you from the past that no longer existed.

The you of the present moaned, sobbed, and convulsed, screaming Kiyoomis, Omis, Oh mys, Oh Gods, I love yous, Don’t stops, Never stops to Sakusa who pounded you relentlessly, slapping every inch of skin on your buttcheek, marking every part of your body with kisses, bites, pulling your hair, closing his fingers around your throat - doing anything and everything that Ennoshita could no longer do. He touched you in ways your ex never could, rough, then eventually soft the moment he finally, eventually, and to your relief, came inside you, coating your clenching walls with hot cum coming out in so many spurts. He unseated himself, and you could feel some volume of him spilling out of you immediately - he had come so much, probably more than he ever had before, and you expected him to immediately disappear to shower, but maybe there was something about his jealousy that made him both harsh and gentle for you today. 

He whispered your name as he lay beside you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He pulled you closer, and your pleasantly exhausted, sweaty, sticky face found its way into the crook of his neck. Your breathing evened, the room was now quiet, but the very air was loaded with the transient echoes of your sinful dance just moments ago.

“I love you.”

Your heart sped up. It was so hard for Sakusa to say something so frank, so honest and so vulnerable, but before you could say you loved him too - oh you knew, you were sure you did - he kept going, and with this he held you tighter:

“I don’t ever want to look at you like I lost everything. No matter what I say, no matter what I do, promise you’ll always love me, and you’ll always be my side. I will do my best to be good to you.”

And that’s when you realized that Sakusa’s greatest fear was Ennoshita’s reality.

[steves-on-a-plane]

The Ambassador

Words: 1613 Square Filled for @buckybarnesbingo: Bodyguard Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: Reader is a young ambassador tasked with setting up with a new US embassy in Wakanda. She is less than pleased to find out she's been assigned a body guard to watch over her.

"Enjoy your flight!” The attendant said as they handed you back your ticket. They waved you through the ramp and assured you that your luggage would be taken care of. You texted your boss, letting him know you were about to board your almost thirteen-hour flight to Wakanda. It was just the first item on a laundry list of tasks you’d have to complete in order to set up the first US embassy in Wakanda.

till tapping away at your screen, you sat in the nearest plush leather seat. You had a few emails you needed to send before the flight crew made the rounds and asked everyone to turn off electronic devices. The same attendant from before came by and took your drink order. You took note of the five other passengers on board. Traveling in a private jet might not be cheap, but so far it was more comfortable than commercial.

“Ambassador [Y/L/N]?” You looked up from your phone when someone called your name. Standing in front of you was a handsome man with neatly cropped chestnut brown hair. He was wearing black jeans, a black moto jacket and black leather gloves. Not your typical diplomat’s style. “My name is James, it will be my job to keep you safe while you’re in Wakanda.”

“I wasn’t aware I was in any danger.” You told him in a bristly tone. “It was my understanding that the Wakandan government was in full support of us building an embassy.”

“It’s standard protocol apparently.” He assured you.

“I don’t need a baby sister, James. I suggest you get off the plane now before they start to taxi us to the runway.” You advised.

“No disrespect, Ma’am, but I’m staying.” He sat down in the chair across from you. The bag he had slung over one shoulder was tossed to the floor with a thump. “I’ve been assigned to protect you and I’m a man of my word so that’s what I’m going to do. At least until the embassy is up and running and you have a full security detail.”

“Well then I’ll have you reassigned.” You took out your phone again, but the cabin crew had already closed the doors and seatbelt indicators had been turned on. It was too late to turn back now. You were stuck with him for at least the next day.

You rolled your eyes and swiveled your leather chair, so you were facing the window. It would be at least thirty minutes before you’d be allowed to use your phone or laptop. You looked out the window and watched the earth descend below. You began running through your mental checklists. You had a checklist for everything that needed to get done once you landed. You had a checklist for the welcome dinner the first night you were in Wakanda. You even had a checklist of work you wanted to accomplish during your day long flight.

What you didn’t have a checklist for was the new bodyguard you’d been saddled with. Protection details were common with embassy work, but usually the team was cleared well in advance. They weren’t just thrown onto a plane with you in the last minute. Still, it wasn’t this guy’s fault he’d been stuck with you. You swiveled your chair again to face him.

“Have you ever been Wakanda, James?” You asked, trying to make conversation.

“Once or twice.” He nodded. “You?”

“No.” You confessed. “Have you ever worked security for an ambassador before?”

“I won’t get in your way Ma’am.” He assured.

“You’d better not.” You smirked. “But I wasn’t trying to imply anything. I just think if we’re going to be working so closely together, we might as well get to know each other.”

“No thanks.” He reached into his bag and removed a book. “Kumbaya isn’t my thing.” He opened the book and began reading. You took out your laptop and got to work. You had checklists that needed tending too.

The flight crew came around and brought everyone their drink orders. When a cool glass of whiskey was placed in front of the bodyguard, he put his book down and sipped slowly. He watched you over his glass.

“Why Wakanda?” He questioned suddenly.

“I thought we weren’t talking.” You commented before drinking from your own glass.

“I don’t want to braid your hair or talk about our hopes and dreams. Sorry.” He rolled his eyes. “I want to know why an ambassador with such little experience was chosen to set up a new embassy with the US’s most important ally.”

“Not that I owe you any sort of explanation,” You sighed. “But from what I understand I was the only one who wanted it. Those ambassadors with more experience don’t want to put in the leg work needed to set up an embassy. They want to go somewhere already established, to bring their wives or mistresses somewhere romantic like Italy or France. Not to mention they aren’t dedicating their spare time to learning about the culture or the people in the nation they're assigned to.”

“And you are?” He raised his eyebrows and sounded surprised.

“You might not think so, but I’m not an idiot.” You huffed. “I’m not going to Wakanda to bring the America way to them. Wakanda’s made more technological, medical, and overall scientific advances in the last decade than we have in the past three. The US needs Wakanda far more than they need us. But it’s my job to make this whole experience feel like a mutual partnership. It’s not something I take on lightly.”

“You know.” James yawned, reaching for his book again. “I’m willing to bet if you gave that exact same speech to the king, that might be all he needs to hear.”

“Thanks for the input.” You huffed sarcastically. “I don’t know why you asked if you were just going to mock my answer.” You looked back at your computer screen.

“I wasn’t trying to mock you.” He said earnestly. “This is a genuine piece of advice, so do with it what you will, but T’Challa would rather you be honest with him. He’s very good at reading people.”

“So he’s just T’Challa to you?” You couldn’t help but smirk. Surely this man wasn’t implying what you thought he was. You looked over at him again. “Are you trying to tell me you’re on a first name basis with the King of Wakanda?”

“As a matter of fact,” He said, turning the page in his book. “I am a close friend of sorts. The royal family really helped me out of a bind a while back.”

“I thought you said you’d only been to Wakanda a few times.” You remembered.

“I said once or twice. I didn’t say for how long. I’m going to back to this now.” He said, pointing at the book.

You weren’t sure if he was bluffing and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to be or not. You thought about spending some time researching James Barnes trying to see if you could verify his story but decided that it would be better to take him at face value. After all, he had no reason to lie to you. Instead you’d sped as much time in the next ten hours as possible reworking your dinner speech and some of your other talks planned for the week. It never hurts to have a backup plan.

Six hours into the flight, Bucky had finished his first book. You’d been tapping away at your keyboard aggressively nearly the entire time. As he read the last sentence on the page and closed the book, he realized you’d gone awfully quiet. His eyes flashed to you, you were sleeping.

It didn’t look like you were sleeping comfortably either. You were still sitting upright, your head lolled to one side. If he left you like that, you’d wake up with a neck cramp and probably be even crabbier than you were before. He picked up a cashmere blanket off one of the vacant seats.

“You’re not so scary when you’re sleeping.” He whispered to himself. He leaned over and saved the document you were working on. He caught a hint of the perfume you were wearing. It smelled like Jasmine and sandalwood. He secured your laptop and reclined your seat ever so gently. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in the act of being nice to you. After ensuring that you were still asleep, you draped the blanket over you before tip toeing back to his own seat.

You awoke with only an hour left of your flight. You stretched your limbs and opened your eyes. You noticed someone had covered you with an incredibly soft blanket. The urge to snuggle up to it and go back to sleep was strong but you still had a lot of work to do. You looked to your right and James was still there, reading his book.

“What time is it?” You yawned.

“Just about three.” He told you.

“Three?” You exclaimed. “You let me sleep for six hours?”

“You looked like you needed a rest.” He explained logically.

“No what I need is…” You stopped yourself. “Look I’m under a lot of pressure to make this work. If you’re planning on being glued to my side for the foreseeable future. You’re going to have to get used to my…”

“Bristly attitude? You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve got thick skin Ma’am.” He said, casting his eyes back to his book.

“You can just call me [Y/N], James.” You told him.

“Buck.” He corrected you. “My friends call me Bucky.”

[tooruluv]

Tobio Kageyama x F!Reader ( part 4 )

❝ goodbyes hurt when the story is not finished, but the book is closed. tell me, have we started a new one? ❞

description: it had been years since you and kageyama broke up. it had been years since the two of you left each other, hatred brewing. fate works in funny ways, you thought, as you caught his eye across the café. love works in funny ways, you thought, as you woke up in his bed the next morning, his fiance calling his phone.

genre: forbidden love, cheating, ex lovers, (all characters are aged up)

word count: 1,632

warnings/notes: this one is just a little filler for what’s to come !! expect some drama next part ;)

tag list: @kara-grayson04​​​ @sadhwstudent​​​ @unlikelytigerqueen​​ @kageyamavibes​​ @monviemoo​ @tazzi-baby​ @1800xibal​ @osterfield-hollandwriter​ @amirahroronoa​ @lozzybowe​

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You woke up in Tooru Oikawa’s bed. His white sheets were a huge contrast with Kageyama’s navy blue. It brought out the light specks of caramel in Oikawa’s eyes.

“Staring is a bit creepy, doll.” Oikawa spoke. He was still sleepy, eyes droopy and hair a mess.

You stayed the night. Of course you did. It wasn’t a common occurrence, per se, but it definitely had happened before. If you were to be completely honest, it felt natural. Best friends who sleep together sometimes when they’re frustrated. Yeah, that’s normal.

“I thought you liked attention?” You quipped. He smiled.

“You’re not wrong.”

You were facing each other. You weren’t cuddling, just laying together. You could feel the soft breaths leave his chest, he could still feel your warmth. He stood up, naked, and placed a kiss to your forehead.

“Pancakes?” he asked.

Smacking his arm, you replied, “Waffles.”

The first time you and Oikawa had ended up entangled together was a year after you left. He came to visit on a little vacation with Iwaizumi. He had lost a game, you were still heartbroken. Somehow both of you ended up that way.

It became a reoccurring thing since. Every time you would visit each other and stressed or upset, you would end up together. A frustration deal. Nothing serious.

“I’m guessing it’s the King of the Court.” Oikawa said. He handed you a plate of waffles when you emerged from the bedroom.

You poured syrup. “Isn’t it always?”

He didn’t ask you anything else. Because quite frankly, he didn’t need to. He knew how heartbroken you were. He knew how even after five years, you wanted nothing more than to take it all back. He knew.

Tobio Kageyama was not a cheater. In fact, he was so incredibly loyal that it stressed everyone around him out. Loyal to volleyball, loyal to eating the same food every day. Literally the definition of loyal.

Yet, somehow, all of that went out the window the second he caught sight of you.

Hinata knew that there was something up. He didn’t necessarily say, “Hey, Kageyama, you look like shit.” But when they met for brunch (seriously, Hinata, he’s not even married yet and he’s going to brunch), Hinata asked, “What’s up?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nevermind.”

“Say it.”

“It’s just.. uh..” Hinata tapped his fingers on the table, refusing to make eye contact. Kageyama waited. “It’s just. You look like you did when…” A pause. “Oh my god. She’s back, isn’t she?”

He didn’t answer. He could’ve just replied with a “Yeah. She’s back. In fact, I slept with her because I have a lot of unresolved feelings and she’s back and I missed her more than I should’ve.”

Instead, “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying, Kageyama. I’m not dumb.”

“Debatable.”

“With an attitude like that, I’m going to text Oikawa. I’m sure he knows all about her return and what happened.”

“You’re annoying.” Kageyama sighed. He swirled the fork on his plate, staring entirely too hard at the food. “Yes. She’s back. I ran into her yesterday.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard!” Hinata’s mouth was full of food. “Next question: why do you look like shit?”

When you first met Kageyama, he didn’t talk much. It wasn’t that he was shy. It was just that he didn’t like to talk to people he didn’t know. And you happened to be a pretty girl.

He watched you approach the team after a game in junior high. He watched you talk to Oikawa, and then turn to him.

“Good job!” you smiled at Kageyama. “Seriously, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Uhm. Thanks.”

You sent him another smile. His immediate reaction was to smile back.

You left Oikawa’s feeling a little bit better. Another tease, another kiss to your temple and you were off. You couldn’t believe that you let yourself fall back into any form of rhythm with Tobio Kageyama. You just had so many questions. One of which: what the fuck happened to make him want to marry Hana?

You were mumbling to yourself, grumbling with hate and anger, when you ran straight into a brick wall. No. It was someone’s back.

“Shit, sorry.” You muttered as a habit.

“Watch where you’re going.” The voice replied, and you knew. How could your luck be this bad?

You stumbled back on impact, and arms grabbed you before you could fall. Kageyama stood in front of you, holding onto your elbows, staring down. He seemed to freeze for a second, recognizing you.

“Sorry.” You said again.

He stayed with his arms on yours for a little bit too long. He kept them there. “Hey, uh. I wanted to apologize.”

You blinked. Shaking your head, you said, “Don’t.”

“No, really.” His arms stayed on yours, blue eyes looking at you. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. And I definitely should have told you, or had Hana tell you, about… about us getting married soon. So I…”

“Please don’t apologize.” You grabbed his hands. “I seriously don’t think I can handle you ever apologizing to me.”

Kageyama nodded as if he understood. You don’t think he would ever understand.

The two of you stood like that, your hands wrapped around his wrists and his eyes never leaving yours, for what felt like forever. The city streets moved with people and cars but you stood still. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you wanted him to hear, but you couldn’t.

“Can I ask you something?” he finally spoke.

“Yeah.”

Kageyama took a breath. Like he was trying to find the right words but couldn’t seem to place them together correctly. Until, “Why did you come back?”

“Why did I come back?” you tilted your head. “I got a job here. And, if I’m being honest, I missed it here.” Missed you. You would never admit that, though.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes focused primarily on your lips when you spoke. You didn’t miss the way he swallowed. And you definitely didn’t miss the look in his eyes. You were standing entirely too close. The air was darker, electric. Like it was taking everything in your power, and his, not to fall into each other.

Your name dripped off of his tongue. You hadn’t realized that your eyes were on his lips until you had to flash them back to his eyes. He stepped closer. You let him.

“Kags…” you started, but he stopped you.

Lips to ears, he whispered, “I missed you, too.”

He let his hand lay in yours until the very last second, finger tips the last to pass until you were no longer touching. And he left.

Tobio Kageyama hated pet names. He thought that they were stupid and held no actual meaning. Why have a name only to be called something else?

You, however, thought that they were cute. They were a term of endearment. And you would never pass up the chance to call Kageyama one. Your favorite was “babe”. You loved the way his ears would go pink, or how his teammates would give a smirk when they heard it.

Eventually, he ended up using them for you. Not because he wanted too, but because they seemed to be natural when he spoke to you. His favorite was “honey” or “love”.

You think that’s why you got as mad as you did when you heard Kageyama on the phone with Hana. He had called her “babe”. He always detested pet names that had to do with “babe”, “baby”, “baby girl”. He thought that they were weird and he was not weird.. He didn’t think that way anymore, you guessed.

You wanted nothing more than to understand what happened while you were gone.

kawa’s flat ass: you should date him!!!!! date him date him date him

You sat in your bedroom, gushing over a certain volleyball player on your best friend’s team. There was something about him. Hana and Oikawa heard you go on and on for days.

you: i really dont know. i dont wanna date someone & not know if im even going to go to the same high school.

kawa’s flat ass: thats boring.

Luckily for you, however, you seen him the very first day of high school. Karasuno wasn’t top for volleyball, so you wondered for a second if he managed to come to the wrong school. But there he stood: still as beautiful, yet taller, than the last time.

“Kageyama!” you waved, sending him a smile.

He didn’t see you at first, scanning the crowded hallway as an attempt to find the voice that called him. You waved again and he caught sight of you. He gave a small wave back.

“I didn’t know you were going here.” He said once you’ve reached him.

“I didn’t know you were going here, either.” You giggled as you walked next to him. “Guess we’re friends?”

“I guess.”

You knocked on the door, knuckle against hard wood. Your insides were screaming, “you shouldn’t be here”, “it isn’t too late to turn around”.

You waited a couple of minutes. As your back turned, ready to give up and retreat, the door swung open.

“Oh my god, hi! You’re back!”

“Hi, Hana.”

[talesofesther]

Anchor - Part 9

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Masterlist with the other parts

See part one for important notes

A/N: This part is really sweet, I liked it, and I think it has a reeeally nice flow to it. The idea I initially had for this was entirely different but as I was writing things just happened and it turned out like this. I changed it a couple of times to fit Five's character so I hope it's good enough. If you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know. ♥

Y/N took slow steps into the filthy place. In every sense, this place defined everything she didn't like. Sweaty and rich men were screaming at the top of their lungs, swinging their money around, urging incessantly for the men on the ring to fight to the death, or at least until they're unconscious. The dim light and downright bad structure made everything look even worse. Like the ones fighting were more animals than humans. Y/N felt nothing but uncomfortable here.

It was hard to believe that it was Luther the one on the ring, this didn't feel worthy of him. Or anyone for that matter. The man Luther was fighting with was big, but somehow he still managed to be bigger.

However, he wasn't fighting back. At some point he started to take all the hits, his face starting to become bloody, and he still asked for more.

"What's he doing?" Y/N asked, on edge with the scene unfolding before her.

"I don't know" Five said as he gripped the fence tighter. "Luther are you crazy? Just hit him!"

Everyone was yelling the same thing to him, to fight back. But he didn't, and with one last punch, Luther went flying and landed on the ground. Blood coming out of his mouth, sweat all over his body, but he looked weirdly pleased. That's one scene Y/N would never imagine happening.

Slowly, the people started to leave the horrible place. Everyone seeming equally surprised by the outcome of the fight. Five, Y/N, and Vanya were currently standing outside.

"We need to speak with him" Five insisted, his hands on his pockets while his foot hit the ground anxiously.

"I know Five, but I think everyone has had quite enough for today. Especially him, we can come here first thing tomorrow morning" Y/N tried to reason with him as it was pretty clear that Luther was in no shape to talk right now.

"I agree with her, I have to go back to the farm" Vanya stepped into the conversation. She looked weirdly naive for someone that already caused an apocalypse. Everyone makes mistakes, I guess. Y/N thought.

Five let out a long sigh, he was clearly impatient and not at all happy with the decision. "Alright, fine. First thing tomorrow morning, be here Vanya". Then he turned to Y/N. "Let's go".

_________

It was a little late already, so Elliott's place was dark. Everyone was probably asleep already, so, at the moment, Y/N and Five were the only ones up. She turned on one of the table lamps in the living room, it did a poor job of illuminating the place, but it was all she needed. The darkness did help with calming her nerves anyway. The girl threw herself on the comfy couch and let out a sigh, closing her eyes and enjoying the peace of the moment.

But not a second later, a bright light hit her face, making her frown and let out an annoyed groan. Five had to disturb her peace by turning on the light in the kitchen.

Y/N slowly turned her head to his direction, an unpleasant look on her face. "Why do you have to drink so much coffee?" The girl asked in a lazy and unamused tone.

Five only glanced at her form on the couch and turned his eyes back to his mug, a small smirk on his face.

Scoffing, Y/N turned her head towards the ceiling and muttered "rude".

"This... Can harm you, you know?" The girl got up from the couch and made her way to Five with slow steps. A malicious grin was adorning her slightly parted lips, making Five almost drop his mug.

The boy raised one of his eyebrows at her, shifting from one foot to the other but never looking away from her figure.

"Yeah, high blood pressure. Anxiety. Insomnia. Rapid heart rate. The list goes on" stopping with just a small distance between them, Y/N crossed her arms. Taking the opportunity to eye Five up and down. He was just a little taller than her, his eyebrows always a little frowned in concentration, his soft hair perfectly falling above his eyes, and his knuckles slowly going white while holding the mug. "I'm afraid you're gonna break that if you grip any tighter" Y/N said in a whisper as her gaze lazily moved from his mug to his eyes.

Five let out a nervous chuckle, almost forgetting how to breathe. What is she doing? She's... Different. Were the only things in his confused mind. Her words, the way she was holding herself, her body so close to him. It made him feel uneasy, and yet he wanted her even closer.

"Are you drunk?" Was the only thing he could say without losing his composure.

That made Y/N finally go back to her normal self as she let out a genuine laugh and walked away from him, back to sit on the couch. Apparently very amused with the way she made him feel.

Five sighed as he shook his head at her. This girl. He slowly followed her steps, sitting beside her on the couch, putting a reasonable distance between them. His mug firmly in his hand.

"No. But I am exhausted, which is... Basically the same thing" Y/N said, once Five made himself comfortable beside her.

Five brought his mug to his lips and took a sip, a small smile on his face. "You're weird".

That made Y/N fully turn her body to him, sitting sideways on the couch. She faked an offended expression and said "excuse me sir. Compared to you and your family I'm the definition of normal". Without even finishing, Y/N was already laughing.

Five chuckled and looked down at his lap to his half-empty coffee mug. "Fair enough" he whispered to her. Y/N made him feel incredibly light, free. But his mind always went back to the same place, playing cruel tricks on him. You don't deserve this. It's not real. How would she like someone like you? Those were the thoughts that often came to Five's head whenever he felt like letting her in. Just like now.

It all still hurts so much, and he's not even sure why. He wants her company so badly, and he has it now. So why does it feel like someone is squeezing his chest?

To Five it was nothing but confused emotions. But the truth is that he craves all of this so much. The touch, the conversation, the connection with someone real. That he's terrified that it isn't real, that in the blink of an eye everything will just end and she'll leave. Or worse, die. He felt alone for so long and now she was making him feel cared for, she was giving him everything he craved for so long and he just wanted it to be... Real. But what if this was all in his head and in one wrong movement or word he drove her away?

And it all made Five feel so overwhelmed all of a sudden. His mouth became dry, his throat felt annoyingly tight. That he missed the small tear that scaped his eye and made its way down his cheek.

But Y/N noticed. She noticed how his hands holding the mug started to tremble, how his breathing was fast and shallow, and how his eyes remained on his mug, but his stare was so lost and far away. Y/N was familiar with anxiety and panic attacks, and maybe this wasn't exactly the case here, but it was definitely something along those lines.

So the girl carefully took the mug from his hands and placed it on the coffee table. Then, ever so gently, she sat a little closer to Five. His face looked troubled and his eyes were glossy with tears in them. It broke her heart to see him like this. Y/N slowly brought her hand up and brushed away the one tear that had fallen on his soft cheek.

Her touch made Five finally turn in her direction and be aware of what just happened. He was about to full-on panic because he just cried in front of Y/N. His whole body tensed and he was preparing himself to teleport away or just make a run for it. But then her hand remained there for the next couple of seconds, her thumb lazily caressing his cheek, a kind smile on her lips. And he couldn't bring himself to move a muscle.

Y/N could visibly see the exact moment he came back to reality and realized what happened, and only when she saw that he wasn't going to disappear on her, that she removed her hand from him. She could tell he felt vulnerable right now and it was obvious this wasn't a common feeling for him. The entire way he was portraying himself right now was totally uncharacteristic of him, and Y/N knew that. Hence why he looked like he had seen a ghost. She wasn't going to ask why he was suddenly like this, it wasn't her place to pry.

The living room was still partially dark, making them both feel shielded from the real world.

"Have I ever told you the story about this scar?" Y/N's voice had a very low tone, only for him to hear and to not break the intimate aura of the room. Five's body was still tense, feeling himself lost as he had no idea what to do with himself now. But he looked down at her hand.

Y/N showed him the scar that had hunted her for many years. It wasn't big, it ran from the end of her palm and just some inches past her wrist, and it was clear that it was from being burned.

Her voice remained gentle as she said "I got it from the night that I lost my parents". The girl looked up at Five with a sad smile on her face. He met her eyes as well, his lip would occasionally quiver but his eyes looked more focused already. Y/N's attempt to drive his mind away from whatever it was that was bothering him was working.

"There was a fire in our house, it spread quickly. I was just... A little girl, terrified, I had no idea what was happening." Y/N furrowed her brows as she vaguely remembered that night. Five's attention was almost fully on her again.

"I could hear people arguing, fighting. Then my mom... She found me and told me to run, as fast as I could. I didn't want to leave her, but I did. While I was getting out I... Burned my hand, at the time I was so scared that I didn't even felt it." Now it was her eyes that were filling with tears. But before they could spill, she felt a feather-like touch tracing her scar. The fact that Five was willingly reaching out to her sent a shiver running down Y/N's spine.

Brushing her tears away, she continued "the- the day after, I found out that my parents had died. So, from then on my aunt raised me. Every day I would ask myself the same question 'why didn't my mother run away with me'?" Y/N chuckled. "Guess I'll never know".

She rested her head on the back of the couch, her eyes looking at Five in an adoring way. He looked calmer, which made a small smile come up to her face.

Five gulped. "I'm sorry about that" he said with a wavering voice. He felt ashamed, vulnerable, and confused. But he felt no desire to leave her, on the contrary, he carefully moved his hand down from her wrist and grabbed her hand properly. His grip was unsure, afraid even, but he remained there anyway. His eyes frantically searching her face for any signs of disapproval, but he only found... Affection. That made his eyes water all over again.

"Me too" Y/N said in a barely audible whisper. She gripped his hand tighter, and with a smile, leaned her head down to rest on Five's shoulder. "We'll be okay, Five" with this last whisper, the girl closed her tired eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep.

Five took a shaky breath, wondering what to do. After some seconds of looking around the room and debating with himself whether or not he should be there, he decided to let himself have this one night. His touch-starved body needed this more than he would ever care to admit. His fears and insecurities disappeared for now, and the only thing he could feel was her. Her hand holding his, her body pressed close to him, and her steady breath on his neck. Slowly, he nuzzled his face on her hair. Closing his eyes, more tears fell. He wasn't sure why, he never was, but now he was too tired to think about it.

Five didn't have any nightmares that night.

When Y/N woke up the next day, she was laying in a very uncomfortable position on the couch. Alone. Rubbing her eyes the girl got up and looked around the empty room, the events of last night slowly making their way back to her brain.

The girl made her way to the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water when suddenly a blue light appeared and almost made her drop her glass. "Jesus Five" Y/N muttered while cleaning the drops of water she spilled on herself.

Five didn't expect her to be up already, his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her. The... Moment they shared last night made him confused about where their relationship stood, it also made him think if he had crossed any boundaries by staying with her for the night. He thought about why she decided to stay with him too, why would she? He clenched and unclenched his fists in his pockets in anxiousness. He felt so much, and he felt that his control was slipping from him more each passing day.

Putting her glass down, Y/N made her way to him. "Did you sleep well?" A small smile making it's way to her face, testing the waters.

Five met her eyes and gulped down his feelings. "We need to go see Luther". And with that, he turned around and left.

Y/N chuckled. Okay, so we're not talking about it.

"Sure" she adjusted her clothes and followed Five outside.

***

Thank you for reading ♥ the next part should be out soon. And if you have any idea about how this story should progress or anything you would like to see in it, please send me an ask or message and I’d be happy to include it. All opinions and feedback are appreciated ♥

Taglist

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[strawberry1212]

Kdrama Sexist/Toxic Male Lead Tropes

(originally made this post as part of another post about Run On but it got to be so long I just thought I’d made this list it’s own post)

-Possessive and easily jealous, and this is often played off as romantic. For a large portion of kdrama watchers who are younger, and for the majority of us who aren’t chased all the time by hot men, this toxic trait can easily be sold to us as an exciting and flattering trait. But this is in fact not respectful of the female lead’s autonomy. I enjoy the little humorous jealousy moments, (I am reminded of Crash Landing on You) but too often this leads to the classic “two male leads each grab the innocently wide eyed female lead and glare at each other” trope. Women are not ropes to play tug of war with! If jealousy over the instances like the girl simply having a conversation with another guy rupture into real problems in the relationship it is not romantic, but possessiveness is often mistakenly portrayed as an expression of love, when really possessiveness is just that: possessiveness over an object.

-Uses violence to solve problems. This is another thing that can be easily seen as flattering--someone is willing to go to great lengths to protect you/defend your honor/whatever the reason is for the male lead to use violence. This trope was deconstructed in the American movie 500 Days of Summer, where the male lead punches a guy “to defend the honor” of the female lead, but she when she is upset and embarrassed at the situation, he gets angry at her for not being excited over his violent sacrifice.

-The typical “tsundere” narrative of abusive language, but paired with romantic gestures, usually the Grand Romantic Gesture trope. I see this all the time, where the guy berates the girl, sometimes to point of just full on bullying, but then he throws his jacket at her when she’s cold, holds the umbrella over her while he gets wet, etc., In other words he may be verbally abusive but it doesn’t matter because he Truly Loves her. And that she should accept that and understand that about him and not expect him to be polite and respectful.

-He treats everyone but the female lead like trash. Well...he often treats the female lead like trash at first too, but this quality is also marketed as flattering. He treats everyone badly but you’re different! In reality this is super toxic. In fact, it is essential that a person treats *everyone* with decency if they are to meet the baseline requirements of being a person capable of giving and receiving love in a healthy relationship.

-He chases her one sidedly. Oftentimes he chases her even when she rejects him, which shows that dominating, male persistence is a behavior to be rewarded. Again, this is a fantasy easily marketable when many of us aren’t chased around by hot men. It is flattering for a person to be so interested in us that they are incredibly persistent, but this fantasy had very unhealthy, and even harmful real life connotations. There is a very important line between friendliness/respectful attention/flirting, and creepy and domineering. I think it is also equally important to note that in this toxic trope, it is important to teach both men and women that no means no and yes means yes. Not that you can’t have playful/teasing banter, but playing hard to get when you really want to be gotten, is an unhealthy coping mechanism for cowardice in relationships.

I think for this one as with other tropes on this list, it appeals to our childish, insecure, and relationship-immature side of ourselves that would rather have everything fall into place than be honest, vulnerable, and have agency in our romantic interactions. What I mean is, the fantasy of a hot male lead persistently pursuing us after a destiny meet cute is a fantasy where we don’t ever have to put ourselves out there. Where don’t have to consciously try to meet new people, express interest in others, set boundaries, i.e. do the hard work of negotiating our place within other people’s lives.

The hallmark of a bad drama for me is when the give and take between the male and female lead is: the female lead has to put up with the meanness and constant mistakes of the male lead as he hurts her (usually in tangent with the Noble Idiocy trope, where he breaks up with her and steps all over her “for her own good” for some bs reason), but in return she gets the Grand Romantic Gesture, and the male lead does most of the chasing. In a healthy relationship, there aren’t constant hurtful arguments, and both do an equal share of the “chasing,” or a better term would be meeting each other halfway in expressing interest in the other.

-Power imbalance. It really disturbs me how Kdramas fetishize power imbalances between male and female characters to create the helpless/incompetent/somehow indebted but also plucky/cheerful/abuse-taking female lead. This can manifest itself very overtly in the many Kdramas between CEOs and secretaries, which I still cannot believe are popular in 2021. Secretary Kim did a better spin on the usual trope--the secretary holds the power of being very good at her job, and therefore indispensable and respected in her own right, but it remains a mystery to me why these super narcissistic and childish CEOs are played off as “adorable manchilds” that always need a little soothing of their ego. But to return to the power imbalance, besides obvious power imbalances of wealth/power/etc., oftentimes the guy has supernatural powers, or by nature of his job has abilities that render him the “protector” in the relationship (My love from another star, descendants of the sun), or the girl is infantilized in some way to need to protection from the male lead (legend of the blue sea, she is a mermaid and therefore dependent on the male lead for guidance in the human world, bring it on ghost as well). I think these latter power imbalances are constructed into the setting of the story because more overt forms of power imbalances are frowned upon now, but they serve the same patriarchal purpose. 

This power imbalance inevitably leads to the female lead putting up with some abuse from the male lead because she “needs” him for some other end, and him holding his power over as a way to keep her close. It fits very well into the enemies to lovers trope in this way, especially some contractual enemies to lovers, where due to the power imbalance he is able to exploit/use her in some way, and keeps her close, and she hates him but has to put up with it for her own survival in some way, but they slowly fall in love. It’s super toxic and not at all romantic because they didn’t choose each other at all, they just were pushed together by circumstance, but again it buys into our fantasy of falling in love due to circumstance, rather than our own agency.

-Overly protective (OP) vs respectfully supportive. (RS) Essentially I can divide Kdramas into these two categories, OP and RS. OP romances can commonly be found in love triangles (where jealousy flourishes) and high school romances (where characters usually have less of a personality lol), and RS relationships are more common in working adult romances, where each character is pursuing their career/dreams and they support each other in those dreams. OP relationships infantilize the female character, render her as just an object in need of saving, and power dynamic between the leads is usually he constantly needs to save her, and in return she “softens”/“heals” him which, under deeper analysis, reveals itself to be quite an insidious and harmful stereotype, the kind of psychology that keeps women in domestic violence relationships. RS relationships are also better in that the leads have something going on outside of their romance, and are motivated beyond just ending up together. My favorite of RS relationships are Miss Hammurabi (two judges that work together to confront injustices in the judicial system), Run On (two leads from v different career fields, but they take interest and support each other throughout career ups and downs), and Hello My Twenties (probably my favorite example of an RS male lead--Sungmin supports Song as she uncovers her past traumas and stands up to an abuser, but does so following her lead and not doing her work for her, but rather simply staying by her side supportively).

Conclusion

This is not all the toxicity in the kdrama world--this is just what I can come up with off the top of my head as my least favorite tropes that disempower women and glorify toxic men and toxic relationships. And of course this is not a problem unique to Korea, and is by no means a condemnation of Korean culture, etc., but I simply happen to enjoy the aesthetics and innocence (compared to American shows haha) of Kdramas, so that is the entertainment world I am familiar with, and feel able to comment on.