#part 2 coming eventually so keep ur eyes peeled

[let-them-read-fics]

Too Late To Apologize?

Requested By @rosiesandlilies​: “I was wondering if I can request a Rosé x female reader story where Rosie is an idol who also happens to be ur wife and since she and BP are taking over the world by storm, she starts to forget about you and whenever u ask her to spend a little bit of time with you, she gets upset and fights with you. You’re also an important person but you always make time for her. Can it be angsty with fluff 🥰”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,026

Warnings / Misc: -- Angst, Self Doubt, Strained Marriage / Relationship, Crying, Some Swearing, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Oooooo lord, here we go. I am feeding 👏 you 👏 all 👏 today! This one took a while to write, but I’m pretty happy with it. I wrote it all in one go, starting at like 3am (as usual lol), so forgive me if it’s a little rough. I put a lot of effort into it, though, so I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for requesting -- Happy reading!

PS ~ I highly recommend that you listen to these songs as you read this:

You Were Good To Me -- Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Surrender -- Natalie Taylor

The Night We Met -- Lord Huron

I Found -- Amber Run

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Hongdae, Seoul  --  8:00 PM

“Good evening, everyone! Before I open the doors, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time out of your day to stop in. We couldn’t have done this without your support, and we’re endlessly grateful. We hope you have a wonderful experience with us tonight. Now, without further ado, welcome to La Rêverie!”

To your amusement, the sizable crowd erupts into a fit of cheers once your opening speech is over. Echoes of the joyous sounds carry across the city, wiggling their way through the alleys and streets, bouncing off of the nearby buildings. The customers slowly filter in, greeting and congratulating you on their way; you’re beyond excited to start this new journey, and seeing people so happy to be a part of it only makes you more proud.

Eventually everyone makes it inside to their seats, and you join them.

--- Later That Evening ---

“Y/N, we have a private party that would like to see you. They’re eager to meet the woman behind all of this,” Pierre smirks, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. His demeanor confuses you slightly, seeing as how this isn’t the first time high profile celebrities have requested your presence -- that’s just one of the perks of being a world renowned chef. You brush off his remark as playful banter and send him to tell them that you’ll be out soon. 

---

“...yes, actually. Y/N and I were fortunate enough to meet when she was studying in Paris; we were being trained by the same chef. We’ve been close ever since. I’m not surprised that she hired me, though; I’m practically a master in the kitchen.”

At Pierre’s cocky words, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. A small grin plays on your lips nonetheless, and you smooth out your top one more time before rounding the corner. 

“What’s this idiot on about now? Did he tell you about the time that he nearly got kicked out of our mentorship program for giving Anthony Bourdain the wrong dish?” You ask the table, sending them a glance while ruffling his hair as you come up behind him. They all snicker at that, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes; with an annoyed shove, he scolds you for bringing that story up again.

“Must you always tell people about that?”

Your smile widens, spreading cutely across your face. Mocking him is one of your favorite things to do. “Mhm,” you say simply, nodding your head for emphasis. He attempts to hide his embarrassment, but it only brings a deeper blush to his cheeks. 

At the VIP table, the suppressed sound of laughter carries over to you, and you’re reminded of your reason for being here in the first place. Upon offering your full attention to the table now, no longer distracted by Pierre, you’re met with 4 different pairs of eyes on you. Warm, yellow light illuminates the area, the classy overhead fixture emitting a soft glow to cast down on the guests beautifully. It’s cozy and inviting, just like you had intended it to be, and the sight makes you happy.

As you quickly scan over each of the girls, your brain pieces together where you know them from.

“My oh my, it’s Blackpink themselves. To what do I owe this honor?” All of the natural charisma that you possess takes over now, doing its best to override your nerves. It’s definitely not the time to fangirl over them; you have to act cool. One by one, you shake their hands, making sure to give each of them a glimpse of your award winning smile. 

Jennie is the first to speak up. “Yourself, of course. You’re the talk of the town, Y/N, how could we miss this?” The way that she says it so casually, already skipping past the formalities, puts you at ease. 

“Ah, you’re too kind. Was your food prepared to your liking?”

A chorus of approving noises leaves the table, successfully boosting your confidence in the process. “It was truly incredible, Y/N.” Rosé gushes, her adorable accent adding something magical to the simple phrase. For the first time tonight, your mind goes blank; ever since news broke of your plans for this new restaurant, you practiced to avoid this very thing. As you stand there floundering for a beat, she takes notice of the effect that her words have on you; it doesn’t take long for her to realize how much she loves to make you blush.

“Thank you so much. We’re so glad to have you here tonight.” 

“We’re happy to be here! Rosé hasn’t stopped talking about it for the past week.” The Australian’s eyes go wide as Lisa exposes her, and she shoots the younger girl a shocked look. Lisa only smirks at this, her shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug. Jisoo nods in confirmation, adding, “Yeah, she’s been super pumped.”

On the inside, you’re freaking out. Rosé was that excited to try out your creations? There’s no logical explanation for that one. Your own surprise is evident in your voice as you respond, “Oh really now? And why’s that?”

“I-I’ve just heard a lot of great things, you know? You’re pretty talented.” She tries to sound confident, but the stutter in her voice betrays her. The tips of her ears are burning with embarrassment, and after sending her yet another smile, you decide to spare her by changing the topic. 

“Well thank you, again. It’s truly a privilege to cook for you girls.” The conversation continues from there, effortlessly moving from subject to subject, and you love how welcome they make you feel. Occasionally you excuse yourself to check on the other guests and ensure that they’re enjoying their dinner, and every time, Rosé finds herself sorely missing your presence. Despite only officially meeting tonight, she feels like she’s known you her whole life. The two of you clicked instantly, and she can’t seem to get enough of you.

After spending the better part of 2 hours chatting and getting to know one another better, you grow bold and ask the question that’s been rolling around in your head all night. 

“Would you guys like to come back to the kitchen for a bit? I could give you some tips and we could make a couple dishes, if you want.”

Rosé nearly interrupts you from how eager she is to accept the offer. The second that you’re done asking, she’s already saying yes. The others happily agree as well, and soon you’re leading them to the back to get prepped.

_________

“Just like this, everyone. Cut thinly here,” you inform, using your knife to point to the areas in question, “...then turn it and follow through with the slices. It should come out diced, like so.” The girls observed your swift motions, peeking over at the small cubes once you’re finished. Things continue on like this for a while, and soon you’re halfway done with the veggies while they’re barely done with the first part of their batches.

“Slow down, Y/N! You’re too fast for us grandmas.” Jisoo jests, her voice bouncy with amusement. 

“Okay, okay! I’ll wait, just let me know if you need help.” Your knife comes to rest against the cutting board, and you take the opportunity to lean back against the countertop to watch them work. Your eyes trail over to Rosé, only to find her already looking at you; she tenses once she realizes she’s been caught, and she returns to her previous duties. You decide to tease her.

“Everything alright, Rosé? You seem a little distracted…” She momentarily shuts her eyes at your words, trying to refocus her thoughts and collect herself. A subtle snicker from Lisa can be heard, and Rosé delivers a quick jab to her arm. The maknae lets out a little “oww” before setting her things down to rub away the newfound soreness of her arm. 

A little later, Jennie requests some assistance, prompting you to make your way over to her. The station that she’s working at just so happens to be next to Rosé’s, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t thrill you. 

“Do we peel this first or leave it on?” 

“Cut the ends first, then slice it in half and remove the outer layer.”

Under your watchful eye, she follows your instructions and is soon back on track. She thanks you, and you bring your hand up to give her a pat on the back. Although she feels childish for it, the action works to make Rosé the tiniest bit jealous; she wants your attention on her. 

The blonde clears her throat before speaking up. “Y/N, I need a little help, too.” Your heart jumps at her words, and you fight hard to keep yourself in check as you spin around to face her.

“Of course, Rosé.” She sighs at the way her name rolls off your tongue, and she’s completely convinced that you’ve secretly put her under some type of spell. Her thoughts of you and your mysterious ways are interrupted when you come to stand next to her, your hip lightly brushing against hers. 

“Oh, well there’s your problem: you’re holding the knife wrong. Here,” you start, reaching out to reposition her hand in a better spot. Now she’ll be able to control it better, and she won’t run the risk of cutting herself.

“Better?” You ask innocently, missing the way that she bites her lip. The close proximity of your bodies is making her head spin, and she can’t decide if she wants you to stay or go. “Yes, thank you.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t, so you take that as your cue to go check on the other girls. Rosé silently curses herself for missing that golden opportunity to flirt with you, but she takes solace in the fact that she catches you stealing glances her way fairly often. You feel the connection too, and she’s pleased with that -- maybe she was doing something right after all.

The next stint of the night is spent preparing and cooking the dishes you promised them while trading jokes, banter, and teasing remarks. A mini food fight also took place, but for the sake of professionalism you won’t mention that. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.

---- 

“Goodnight girls. I hope you come by again sometime soon!” 

They all assure you that they’ll be back before you know it, and you believe them. After all, they gobbled those dishes down like they hadn’t eaten in days -- it’s safe to say that they enjoyed them.

Rosé lingers in the doorway, eyeing you as you work to clean off the counter. She doesn’t want to go; she’s loved getting to hang out with you. Contemplating her options, she decides to be brave; she tells the girls to go on ahead, that she’ll be there in a minute. 

“Rosé, did you forget something?” You ask, looking up at her as you reach forward to wipe any remaining debris off the sleek surface.

“Yeah, your number.” Somehow, she possesses all the confidence in the world now, her new demeanor completely opposite to its previously shy counterpart. 

You tilt your head at her, a dumbfounded smile parting your lips ever so slightly. “Bold, are we? Alright, I’ll bite.” You say, holding a hand out for her to give you her phone. Her eyes widen a bit -- was she not expecting you to say yes? There’s no way you could turn down a chance like this. She fumbles around in her bag until the smooth screen of her phone comes into contact with her fingers, letting her know she’s found it.

“Here you go,” she chuckles cutely, an adorable little pattern of blush rising to her cheeks again. 

After entering your number, making sure to save the contact and even take a goofy picture of yourself for it, you give it back to her. “Call me anytime, love.” Her smile spreads even farther at the pet name, and she ducks her head to hide her reddening cheeks.

As she slowly approaches the door, walking backwards, she says, “I will… love,” offering you a little awkward salute at the end of it. You giggle at her antics, and soon bid her goodnight. 

No more than 5 minutes later, your phone dings as it displays a notification from an unknown number. 

“I’m usually not that awkward 🤦‍♀️ pretty girls just make me nervous.” The message makes your heart flutter, and you quickly save her number to your contacts. 

“Really? We have yet another thing in common, then.” 

The girls watch as Rosé does a little victory dance in her seat, her movements a bit limited by the belt stretched across her body. She’s practically glowing with excitement, her fingers already firing off another reply.

________

3 Years Later -- Rome, Italy

Upon seeing Rosé saunter down the aisle, your emotions get the jump on you; before you can stop them, tears flow freely down your face, and you bring a hand up to your mouth to quiet yourself. She looks bruisingly beautiful: the natural curves of her body are accentuated by the silky material of her dress, and her shoulders are covered in lace. An angel cast down from the heavens above. 

She smiles at the audience that’s filled with your close friends and family, offering little greetings as she passes them. Once she and her father make it to the altar, he pulls you in for a big hug, a few tears escaping his eyes. After he takes a step back, he looks between the two of you with pure pride on his face, his hand resting on your shoulder. 

The song ends, signalling for the two of you to join hands and face each other, and he returns to his seat. 

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the joyous union of Y/N L/N and Roseanne Park. Two souls destined to find their way to one another, travelling millions of miles in the process. We come together to revel in this fact and send them into their new life together with all of our support.” The officiator says into the microphone, smiling at the two of you. You can tell he loves his job, and he’s damn good at it. 

Rosé’s grip on your hand tightens as she tries to contain her tears, but you’re quick to assure her that it’s alright. “You can cry, baby.” At your words, her lip is released from between her teeth, and her tears begin to flow. You wipe them away, stepping closer to rest your forehead against hers. 

The ceremony continues on and the two of you recite the personal vows you wrote. Somehow, unbeknownst to you, there doesn’t seem to be a limit to how much you can cry in one sitting. Rosé is having the same problem, seeing as how her makeup is smudging some as the tears wash the substances away. You don’t care though, and you make it a point to remind her of that; she’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“I do.” You choke out, beaming at her as you run your thumb across her knuckles.

“I do.” She responds, impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for those final words from the officiator. 

“You may now kiss the bride.” 

Her lips are on yours before he even finishes the phrase, her hand resting on the back of your neck as she pulls you in closer. Your lips move with hers in perfect time, working to seal your union in the best way possible. “I love you, forever,” she whispers against your lips. 

____

Present Day, 1:17 AM

In order to spare you from the overwhelming sadness that you’re being subjected to now, your brain takes you back to those happy times from the past. When Rosé still made time for you; when she loved you. 

Even though you hate it, you still find her in everything. The bright sunshine of the early morning reminds you of all the times she would wake you up with kisses, holding you close. The songbirds outside of your window bring to mind when you’d come home to find her at the piano, alternating between striking the keys and strumming her guitar as her beautiful voice carried out across the house. 

You miss that Rosé, so, so much. The Rosé that would call you in between sessions at the studio, if only for 5 minutes. The Rosé that longed to hear your voice after a long day; who fell into your arms the second that she shuffled through the door after practice. 

As time has passed, though, she’s seemed to fade more and more from your life; missed calls and texts have become a given, and it takes everything in you to mask your sorrow. Anyone who knows you well at all can easily see through the facade: you’re now a shell of who you once were, your normally vibrant and cheery self gone. You attempt to hide your sadness behind a smile, but it never really works out; your eyes don’t shine like they used to, and your lips don’t quite tweak up at the corners in the special way they had before. 

But you’re getting ahead of yourself again. Your reason for crying tonight is simple: for the hundredth time this month, she’s cancelled your date night plans, opting to spend the time working instead. The argument that the two of you had earlier replays in your mind:

"I don't have a choice."

Except, she did. She could choose you, choose to take a break, if only for the evening. You never ask too much of her, knowing that she can't handle even more stress competing with what she already has from the company and media. Being an idol is hard enough, and you know you can never fully wrap your head around everything that's expected of her.

Though, that makes this all the more ridiculous. All you've asked for is a couple hours of her time -- for her to relax with you and get away from it all. Earlier that day you had gone to the store and picked up all the necessary materials to treat her to a little spa day, complete with bath and body oils, face masks, and even some bath bombs. 

"Asking my wife to spend an evening with me is not unreasonable, Rosé."

"I'm not having this argument again, Y/N. I get enough shit from everyone else; I don't need any extra from you."

Maybe it was something in how she said it, so final and hateful, her face coming to rest in a scowl. Her arms were crossed as she stood in front of you, and you could see the muscles in her jaw clench and release repeatedly. In some twisted way, part of you was glad to have this encounter; it hurt like hell, but at least she was paying attention to you. She hadn't looked at you for this long in a while.

Before you can even get another word out, she sighs, saying, "I don't have time for this. I have to go back to the studio." 

Just as she turns to go, you catch her wrist. With a slightly annoyed look, she turns to face you.

"If you walk out that door then I'm leaving; at least for the night. We need to talk about this, but if you don't care enough to even give me that, then…" you trail off, tilting your head slightly. You want her to apologize, to say how wrong she's been for doing all of this to you -- but she doesn't. Her expression is tired, irritation written plainly for you to see. She pulls her arm away, offering a petty, "Oh well," with a shrug before exiting the house. 

How could she be so cold? Maybe that's what hurt the most. Seeing the love of your life turn into someone completely different than who you fell for stung more than any argument ever could. The reality is that she's not the same person anymore. Accepting that would be half of the battle in and of itself. 

Your heart is betraying itself, stuck in a sticky situation: you're constantly struggling between your love for her and the respect you hold for yourself. Half of you wants to stay, to make her listen and fight for this; but the other half of you, perhaps the more rational side, knows that that won't work now. You've tried that already, you reason with yourself, racking your brain for any new way to get through to her. 

Sometimes it's like she forgets all of the sacrifices you make for the relationship. Despite having your own busy schedule to deal with, you always make time for her. So why could she never do the same for you?

It's obvious that in its current state, this relationship is only wrecking your mental health -- a testament to that is every night you've spent lying awake, sobbing into your pillow as your list of insecurities grows longer and longer. She used to be the person you'd run to when negative thoughts plagued your mind, her sweet words of love showing how much she valued you. But all of that's gone now, leaving you with a shattered heart and racing mind. When had you stopped being enough?

~~~~~~~

It’s late, well past 4AM when Rosé manages to make it home. Practice absolutely wrecked her today, leaving her body exhausted from dancing and throat sore from all the singing she had to do. She’s more than ready to collapse into bed and pass out. 

One thing that always stayed the same was your sleeping arrangement. No matter how much Rosé hurt you, you still slept in the same bed. Her subconscious was always kinder to you than she was, anyway; the two of you would cuddle in close like before, her arms wrapped around you as she slept peacefully. No arguments or yelling, you could always count on the nights to heal your heart a little bit. 

As she enters the empty bedroom, the memory of your argument from earlier that day comes flooding back. She remembers that you said you were leaving, but part of her didn't fully believe you. She should've known better -- you always keep your word. Guilt washes over her, and she gently taps her head against the wall as a sort of self-punishment for her previous actions. Why did she say that to you? The hurt look in your eyes broke her heart, but she couldn’t afford to skip practice, especially with the comeback quickly approaching. In retrospect, she should’ve just told you that she didn’t feel prepared, and that’s why this practice had been so important. Even though she doesn’t show it, you still mean the world to her. She just so happens to be her own worst enemy. 

With a heavy sigh, she makes her way to the bathroom; there she finds a cute little basket of goodies next to the tub, and a note on the counter of the sink. She approaches the basket first, quickly discovering that it holds some of her favorite self-care items from the local store. Yet again, a deep pang of guilt courses through her upon realizing that you had prepared that for her. Defeated, she picks up the note. 

Roseanne,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve already left. I don’t want you to worry, if you even still care enough to do that, so I decided to leave this letter for you. I’ll be staying with my friend for the next while. I don’t know how long, but that depends entirely on you. I’ve tried to communicate with you, but we’re getting nowhere; we both know it. We’re not who we used to be, Rosé, and I hate that. I want us to be happy again, but it seems that I can’t do that for you. If you want to end things, let me know. 

- Y/N

Rosé’s heart is breaking, splintering into a million different pieces and leaving her with no possible way to collect them all. How had she so royally fucked this up? She only has herself to blame, and she knows that; she can’t believe that she let things get like this. She had been so blinded by the stress that she lost sight of the most important thing in her life: you. It’s slowly sinking in that she very well might lose you for good this time, and she doesn’t know how to cope with that. She can survive without her career, but she knows she can’t go on without you.

-----  La Rêverie, 2 Weeks Later -----

She only intended to walk by -- to see if you were there and safe. But as she gazes through the windows, peeking into the place that houses so many of her dearest memories, she’s transfixed. Her eyes land on you, finding you hard at work in the kitchen. It’s always been where you go when you’re stressed or upset about something -- two things that Rosé knows she’s the cause of.

You’re in your element, face donning a look of pure concentration as you prepare what she assumes is a new dish. Your hair’s in a bun, a few strands coming down to fall around your face as you move about. Gravity takes its time in gently coaxing them out of the tie's hold, and Rosé’s breath hitches at how beautiful you look; it’s as if she’s falling for you all over again. She’s always admired your skills, but they hold a whole new meaning now, an unspoken tension in every movement you make. 

How had she been so selfish? You had been there for her all along, waiting patiently for the day that she would come to her senses. You would always have dinner ready -- usually one of her favorites, hoping that would spark something again -- but she always brushed you off. She never stayed long enough to see the crushed look on your face, or how the pain was becoming clearer and clearer by the day. She realizes now just how much of a toll her actions have taken on the both of you; you're still just as breathtaking as ever to her, but that special sparkle in your eye has long been eclipsed by something more dull. You're tired of being let down repeatedly, stuck in a constant loop of excuses and avoidance, and Rosé can't blame you for a second.  

The time apart hasn't been kind to her at all; there hasn't been a single day that's gone by where you haven't consumed her thoughts. She misses you so badly it hurts, and even now, despite being so close to you, separated only by the walls of the restaurant, you've never been further away. 

The distant sound of a car alarm cuts through the silence, simultaneously scaring her and drawing your attention. Before you can spot her, she ducks down; there’s no way that she can face you yet. Taking this as a sign, she decides to leave.

She’s spent the past 2 weeks attempting to spare you by not coming around; she thinks you need time away from her to deal with everything she’s put you through, and she doesn’t want to upset you anymore than she already has. Ever-torn, part of you is glad that she’s stayed away; however, another part of you just wants to see her again. You miss the nights more than you thought you would. 

--- A Few Days Later ---

Steady sheets of rain pound harshly against the window, vibrating the latches with each gust of wind. Times like these are always the worst, especially when you don’t have Rosé to calm you down. Violent thunderstorms never fail to frighten you, and this one in particular seems like it’ll be the worst one of the season. Swiftly padding over to the window, you sneak a quick peek outside, only to find the branches of the large oak tree that occupies the yard swaying in the wind with reckless abandon. The sight terrifies you, but you do your best to keep yourself from panicking, even having to do some breathing exercises. Your friend can sleep through anything, and you know she needs the rest; so, you stay in the spare bedroom that she’s so graciously allowing you to reside in, and lie awake. 

Across the city, Rosé is tossing and turning. The storm hasn’t fully reached its peak there yet, but she knows how worried you must be. Tears spring to her eyes at the thought of you huddled up under the covers, body trembling in fear as the storm rages on. The deep-rooted shame that she’s grown so accustomed to since you left plagues her conscience, making her even more disgusted with herself. 

After turning over yet again, her eyes land on the picture she has of the two of you propped up on the nightstand. It was taken on your wedding day, that stunning view of the venue paling in comparison to your beauty. A sense of determination washes over her -- determination to make you that happy again someday, in whatever way she can -- and she gets out of bed to collect a few materials. She’ll do whatever it takes.

----

The sound of a car door slamming perks your ears up, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quickly pulling the curtain back, you’re beyond shocked to see Rosé out there, holding something in her hand. Just as you lean in closer to the window to try and see what it is, her caller ID pops up on your phone. 

“Come downstairs, please.” 

Even with the vast array of emotions coursing through you at the moment, you’re only focused on getting her inside and out of harm’s way. 

You nearly knock the door off its hinges with how quickly you snap it open. To your surprise, she’s still standing by her car, but now you can see what she was holding before; a white sign with black writing on it. The words are barely legible with how much it's raining, the dye of the marker horribly smudged, but you can make out: “I’m sorry! I’m an idiot.” It’s like something out of romantic drama.

Before you can even comment on everything that’s happening, Rosé begins the speech that she’s been trying to piece together ever since you left. 

She has to raise her voice so you can hear her over the storm. You wonder why she doesn’t just come in, but you think that maybe she’s doing it to show you that she’s willing to punish herself by standing out in the elements. “No words that I say will ever be able to fix the pain that my actions caused. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, and I hate myself for being such a coward. I was too immature to look past my own struggles and just talk to you about them.” 

Now, she takes a few cautious steps towards the front door, testing the waters as she scans your face to gauge how you’re feeling. “I guess I just thought I could deal with it like I always do. But losing you showed me how wrong I was; I love you so much, Y/N. I don’t want to end things; I’ll never want that. You’re my world, baby; I’m so sorry that it took me this long to see what was right in front of me.” 

How are you to respond to that? Can you trust her? She looks more sincere in this moment than she has in a long time, and that puts you a little more at ease. Her eyes are begging -- pleading -- with you to believe her, and after a moment you step to the side, wordlessly telling her to come in. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until a few stray tears drip onto your shirt, leaving little marks in their wake. She has to restrain herself from reaching out and wiping them away; she has no idea when -- or if -- you’ll be able to forgive her. 

Soft pitter-patter of the water running off of her coat echoes lightly across the foyer, serving as white noise for the conversation you’re having. Her sniffles work in tandem with it, and she bites back her sobs in order to get the words out. 

“I know this won’t be fixed overnight, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. I won’t blame you for a second if you can’t forgive me, either. I just couldn’t let you get away without a fight.”

With each new fresh batch of tears that settle in your eyes, you have to work twice as hard to blink them away. “I-I don’t know what to say, Rose. You’re the only person in this world capable of hurting me that badly, because you mean more to me than anyone else. But I never thought you’d treat me like that. Do you know how many times I doubted myself, thinking I did something wrong?” Your tone is bitter now, voice conveying the pain from those months of anguish that you had to endure, and Rosé hangs her head. 

“I know that now, Y/N, and I know that I can never take it back. But God, how I wish I could. I’d do anything in my power to take that pain away. It was never your fault; none of it was.”

You know she’s being honest. After seeing the opposite for so long, it’s easy to spot when she’s telling the truth. You nod a couple times, deciding to pull her in for a long-overdue hug. She’s motionless at first, not quite knowing if you want her to return it or not, but the second that you quietly say, “Hold me, Rosé,” she’s scooping you up in her arms like her life depends on it. Her head rests in the crook of your neck, and the two of you cry together, letting all of the pent up frustration and sadness leave your bodies. 

After standing there, embracing one another for who knows how long, she pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. Her gaze subtly falls to your lips, but you don’t fail to notice. “Can I?” She asks gently, raising her eyes back up to yours. “Yes.” You utter, nearly swooning as her soft lips brush against your own. You’ve missed them. 

Her chilled hands cup your cheeks with purpose, and you can feel water running off the ends of her hair and onto your chest.

She kisses you in such a poetic way: softly, as if you might break at any moment, but urgently, like a lost soldier finally returning to the arms of their lover. She wants to make you feel how sorry she is, how much she loves you, and this seems like the perfect place to start.

“I love you, jerk,” you say through your tears, brushing your thumb along her cheek as you look into her eyes.

“And I love you, angel.” She picks you up, spinning you around a couple of times before setting you back down on your feet. 

After a moment, you glace at the window. “Shhhh, wait. Do you hear that?”

She cocks her head to the side as she listens closely for any potential noise that you might be talking about, but she hears nothing. “No? I don’t hear anything…” 

“Exactly; the rain stopped.”

“Huh. I guess it did its job, then.” She smiles, silently thanking the universe for working in its wonderful ways. It brought the two of you back to one another, and neither of you can contain your happiness. Maybe you don’t hate storms as much after all...

[lifesabe-ch]

this means war - billy r. and frank c. (part 6)

summary: this is a spin off from a movie (can anyone find the title? ;) starring Billy Russo and Frank Castle. In this AU, Billy isn’t a psycho, Frank’s family is alive, and they both really like coffee. And, y’know, Y/N.

pairings: Frank Castle x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader (actually both of them, i promise)

warnings: fragile male ego and sass

a/n: hi i’m admin A, aka @pitaparka, and this is my first post on this blog! we’ve been co-writing this for a while so it just seemed logical for me to hop on here as an admin! I probably won’t be doing any individual writing here (i write independently on my above blog, so if you like this blog, you should check that one out too ;), but if we’re doing any co-writing, it’ll probably be here. that’s all for now. later!

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5

Billy accidentally locked the door to his apartment trying to get in from work. Which was concerning, considering he locked it this morning. If he could bet money on whether or not Frank was sitting on his couch—

He would have been wrong. Frank was sitting at his breakfast counter. Eating pizza.

Billy sighed loudly, “Did you at least save me some?”

Frank doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he slides the pizza box over to the empty seat next to him. 

Billy drops his keys on the counter, tosses his suit jacket there too, and loosens his tie before sitting down next to Frank.

“Mushroom and sausage,” he says, his eyes trained on the news playing on Billy’s television. 

They sit there silently eating pizza together. 

“I saw Y/N today.” Billy says. He can almost see Frank’s ears perk up.

“At work?” 

“No. The coffee shop. I dropped by, you know, to see her.” 

Frank nodded. 

Grinning, Billy nodded, “We’re going on date. Our first date, already.” He gets up from the breakfast bar to wipe off his hands. 

Quirking a brow, Frank chuckled, “Good for you man. Good for you.”

“Yeah. How are you two doing?” 

“We already had a date.” 

Watching as the grin immediately fell from Billy’s face, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What? When?” 

“Last night.”

“No… you went on my date?”

“Your date?” Frank scoffed, sipping the beer he had in his hand, as he watched Billy pace. “It was my date, asshole. One too many hits to the head today?”

“I—You… That was my date!” Billy says, leaning on the breakfast bar.

“So why weren’t you on it?”  

 “W-what?” Billy asked. He takes a second to process it. “I was… at a meeting.”

“Sure. At eight o’clock at night?”

“Yes, at eight o’clock at night.” 

Frank shot him a look.

 “Some people have businesses.” He defends. 

Frank scoffed, “You have one business, Billy.”

“And you’re getting into my business, so watch it.”

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it, Russo? You gonna—”

“We need some rules.”

“Huh?” Frank asks. He gives Billy a look like Billy’s seen many times before. It basically slaps him upside the head and asks him how much he’s had to drink already. He retreats to the fridge to grab a beer. Get an early start on the night ahead of him. 

“What the hell are you on about, man?” Frank asks. He leans over the box and grabs another slice of pizza. 

“I don’t think we should tell her that we know each other.” Billy says. Frank looks at him. 

“What, like, stay out of each other’s way?” Frank takes the remote and turns the volume down on the TV.

“Yeah. Just let her decide.” 

“We’re already letting her decide,” Frank clarifies.

“No, I mean… no interruptions.”

Billy watches as Frank contemplates this whole thing. 

“Billy, you know you’re like a brother to me, man.” 

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t do this—”

“No no no, I mean, I don’t want this… whatever this is to mess us up, okay?”

“Listen,” Billy starts, “have we ever let a girl come between us before?”

“We’ve never liked the same girl before.”

“I’m just saying…  If things get too tense, we can both back off, okay?”

Frank shakes his head. He lets out a sigh. 

“So we’re not getting in each other’s way.”

“No, Billy, we aren’t.”

“That pretty much settles it?”

“Yeah.”

Frank closed the pizza box, signifying the end of the conversation. 

“How was my date?” Billy asked, taking a drink from his beer.

“You mean my date.” Frank clarified, turning up the TV a little bit. 

“Well, I was the one who asked her. And I picked the restaurant. And the time.” 

“The restaurant? What restaurant?”

Billy stared at Frank in confusion. “Did you not… wait, where did you go?” 

“We went to Tina's Place. Off of 60th. The midnight one.”

“Oh. Why?” Billy picks at the label on his beer bottle that’s already starting to peel with condensation. 

“Because we were at the bar down the street.”

“You picked her up at a bar?”

“What does it matter, Russo? You’re losing anyway.”

“Frank, you’re this close to getting kicked out of my apartment.  Did you do anything?”

“No, Bill, we sat there and we stared at each other. All night.”

“You know what I’m asking.” Billy deadpanned.  

“We kissed.” 

“And?”

“And nothin’.” Frank huffed. 

“You went on my date and all you did was kiss?” Billy asked, incredulously. 

“More than you did,” Frank muttered, loud enough for Billy to understand the mischievous grin on his features. 

“Just wait until I get to go on my date, Frankie.” Bill declared, moving to toss the empty pizza box in the trash.

“If you even make it. Maybe I’ll get to go on that one too,” Frank said, chuckling. He gets up and grabs his phone off the kitchen counter. He doesn’t even check it before he slips it into his pocket and makes his way to the door.

“Oh I’m going on this date, Frank. It’s gonna be the best damn date of her life. She’s not even gonna remember who you are.”

“Whatever you say. I’ll see ya tomorrow, Billy,” Frank yells over his shoulder on his way out.

Billy sat, only the company of the TV to keep his apartment from complete silence. As much as he hated coming home to other people in his house, he didn't mind Frank all that much. Especially when he cleaned up after himself. Billy let his own beer bottle clank softly into the trash. He got to work on the dishes that were starting to pile up in his sink. He hated a messy apartment. 

With most of his household chores done, he broods on the couch over Frank’s dinner. His dinner, really. A missed opportunity. He wasn’t upset with her. He wasn’t even upset with Frank. He was more upset with himself, getting caught up like that. He fiddled with the remote. 

“Dinner. Saturday night. Eight o’clock.”

This was shaping up to be just like the situation he got himself in. He needed to do something else. Something drastic. If this was a race, Frank was winning. But that’s okay. Only for now. Slow and steady, Billy. Slow and steady.

He takes out his phone and sends a text. 

Hey, you free Saturday morning instead?

He doesn’t know what to do, so he stares at his phone. He imagines her, rolling her eyes and ignoring him. He cycles through some apps before he gets the notification from her.

uhhhh why?

Billy is awestruck. Why? He doesn’t know how to respond. Everything he comes up with sounds wrong. That’s not how he expected her to respond. 

“Because I want to take you for breakfast instead.” He types, but deletes it. That sounds too forward, like he has plans late on he doesn’t want to cancel for her.

“I just want to see you sooner.” Ugh. That’s the wrong side of creepy, not sweet.

He panics. He’s been typing and deleting for almost a minute. 

Why not?

 He sends.

I’m a coffee man, you know that

He sends again. He stares, and his messages pop up as having been read by her. He lets his fingers do a little dance over the keyboard, waiting to type out a reply.

you got me there

 She sends, and Billy smiles at his phone.

Sweet 

He sends back, and at the same time, she sends him,

still my place?

Billy ponders for a second. The ball is in his court.

Yeah. 9:30 sound good? He asks.

yup 

She shoots back immediately. He locks his phone and tosses it to the side, running his hands over his gelled hair. All is right in the world. But he needed to shower. Just then, he gets one more text. 

He thinks it’s Y/N, but it’s not. It’s Frank.

i left my hat at ur house

Billy ignores the message. 

“Even when he’s not here, he’s here,” Billy mumbles to himself. He sees Frank’s blue baseball cap sitting lonely under the chair where Frank sat. He ignores that too, in favor of a hot, steamy shower before bed. Frank will come get it eventually. Just not tonight.

tag list (respond to post or send ask to be added!):

@full-of-sins-not-tragedies, @harrysthiccthighss, @constellation---me, @editboutique, @achesiresmile, @ghastlygray, @muddleofmarvel​ , @starxdame​

[sloppy-butcher]

Whats your hcs for Frank, Evan and Herman?? They are my 3 loves so im curious... (love your work ya poes

how old are you sir? I must ask to see ur ID. a babey can’t be using language like that >:(

anyhow, the 3 boys eh? I’ll gladly write anything for them uwu. I’m going to be doing general relationship hc’s so things will probably get fluffy and maybe a little angsty. i can’t help myself sometimes. I’m going to try include one NSFW hc for each of the 3 stooges, so be prepared. it may be bad. the reader will be left as ambiguous as possible

edit: i write way to much :/ i think i should only do 1 or 2 character requests from now on T_T

hope you enjoy!

General relationship HeadCanons

The Legion (Frank Morrison)

With Frank, there was no real start to your relationship. There was no moment in time, no exact, pinpoint instance when one could say that that is when you two starting everything. It kind of just happened. Maybe it was when Frank first kissed you, it felt like fireworks and the snow in Mount Ormond was no longer cold. Or maybe it was when he first saw you dancing along with Suzie to one of her favorite songs, the twirling of your feet mixed with perfectly timed head slams dazzled him and he wanted nothing more than to have you give him a private dance. In the end, these are all speculations and the truth may never be known.

Around others, he was hesitant to show his emotion. You two could be sitting right next to each other your thighs all but alined when out of nowhere Joey sticks his head in. Frank snaps like a mousetrap, retreating back away from you as if he was embarrassed. You confronted him about this, you told him everything’s okay and that no one would judge him for being human. He refused you and, not to lie, it really hurt. But one day, just as you were walking away you felt his hand snake its way into yours. He hesitated for a moment, afraid you might reject him but of course, you gladly wrapped his hand in yours. You heard Joey wolf-whistle from somewhere behind you and Frank very enthusiastically tossed a middle finger at him. You couldn’t see it, but Frank was blushing under his mask.

Franks, not a romantic guy so don’t expect flowers or gifts or really anything nice. He grew up with virtually nothing so the idea of wooing someone with items of material affection is very foreign to him. He believes that if his presence and physical affection aren’t enough to prove to you that he appreciates you, then nothing will. But you never cared about gifts. All you ever wanted was Frank and he couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought.

!NSFW! Frank was a pretty vanilla guy. He doesn’t have much experience when it comes to the department of extremely intimate affection and therefore knew literally nothing about the pleasures of the flesh. But the keyword here is ‘was’. After meeting you and your guiding hand he blossomed into a very wild and very hungry individual. His favorite position though is when he gets to look at you. And if you call his name he will instantly crumble. Afterward, or during the act you need to reach out and caress him. Touch and explore his body, mainly his face and he’d moan even louder. Your hands are so soft and gentle and when you touch him he floats with elated glee. He feels alive when he’s with you.

The Doctor (Herman Carter)

You would have to be extremely special or out-of-the-ordinary in order to catch the eye of the Doctor. But somehow you managed to do it. Herman was a man unhinged, incapable of empathy and compassion. He never looked at other humans as people with feelings and conscious ideas and thoughts. He only ever saw them and you as test subjects. But something about you was off. You did something that made this machine of a man halt in his pursuit of human torture. What exactly did you do? Well, nothing really. As he approached you, electrical energy between his hands flexing and growing ready to turn your brain to mush, you never screamed, never flinched away and never took your tired eyes off him. The first few times when you welcomed death he didn’t notice and it was only after a significate amount of encounters that finally Herman realized he had never heard your cries of fear and pain.

He would amp up his power when he would find you in trials. He would kill you much more violently than he would the others, make your liquified brain ooze out your ears and make your heart stop and start like a busted old car. Sometimes he would even through away the whole trial upsetting his boss greatly, just to get to you. But no matter what he did, you never offered him what he wanted. You had seen and experienced much worse than him and when death never gives you a release, torture becomes mundane and repetitive. When Herman finally understood that you weren’t afraid of him, he relented, snuffed out his power and walked away. He had his attention now.

Whenever you would visit him during off-time he would follow you as you wandered around the massive mansion known as Léry’s. Sometimes he would lead you, taking you to the rooms which he liked the most (operation rooms). Herman can not talk, the contraption in his mouth has stretched his lips to the point that they can no longer function and his voice box is beyond repair, damaged thanks to his constant flow of electricity that would otherwise kill a man. But he doesn’t need to talk to you. You always seem to know what he wants without hearing a single word.

!NSFW! Sex with Herman is out of the question. The man is pumped with endless volts of electricity and if you were to so much as touch him, your body would recoil and spasm painfully from the contact.  If you ever wanted to experience pleasure from or with the man, he would have to try rein back some of that overflowing energy. But the man is too prideful and would never dare try to cull some of his ability. Unfortunately. But maybe after some time, he might learn to listen. There is no time in the Fog, only eternity and humans were never meant to live for that long. Our minds dull and our intentions warp from the time spent existing and maybe even someone as mad and determined as Herman could learn that it’s not so bad to let others into his life.

The closest you could ever get to kissing Herman is probably just planting a soft peck on his cheek.  A dangerous move considering the possible consequences of actually touching him with such a sensitive part of you, but a risk you were willing to take. One day, however, in the silence and fog of the mansion Herman would reach out for you. He would lean down to your height and very slowly take your hand. There was no static shook when your skins met. He was telling you that he was calm. He would then guide your hands to his mouthpiece and he would tell you to take it off.  Delicately you would peel away the metal from flesh and his mouth would furiously bleed and dretch his teeth with red. When he was free you would quickly meet him and you would hungrily kiss his chapped lips. He would kiss you back, his lips unable to keep up with yours but his tongue is wild and eager. However, after only a minute he would shove you away violently. As you feel the connection between you two break, the space around Herman lits up and crackles with mad energy. You would have to wait for him to calm down again if you wanted to continue your endeavors.

The Trapper (Evan Macmillan)

Despite being one of the most diligent and consistently brutal killers in the realm, when Evan is alone and the only eyes watching him are yours, he is a gentleman. He would speak to you softly, asking about your day already knowing that it was pretty shit. He would hold doors open for you and he would always make sure you were warm, either with a spare blanket or a seat extra close to a fire. He would fuss over you. Your soft skin, so clean and pure, untouched by the horrible and evil ways of the world made him marvel at how human you were. To him, you were what humans were meant to be, good and kind, whereas he was a monster charred and broken, unworthy and incapable of affection and of all those things that were meant to make life wonderful. He wanted to protect you, preserve that softness of you and although he couldn’t do anything to help you when the camera’s all turned back on, during this time he would smother you with whatever cautious and motherly behavior he could muster.

He was drawn to you because of your confident behavior. He found your energy alluring and would always find himself somehow infected by your hope and optimism. You were like a fire, burning everything in your path and he just happened to be close enough to catch alight. In the beginning, Evan would become very annoyed by your seemingly endless ideas of survival but as time went on and you never seemed to dampen like the others he found that his annoyance turned into curiosity. A part of him wanted to know what it was like to be under your light of hope. It yearned to be rescued but a bigger and much louder part of him, a voice oddly resembling his fathers, drowned it out. However, that didn’t stop his feet from walking towards you and it certainly didn’t stop you from staying with him.

In the early stages of your relationship with the mountain of a man, you had to the one initiating affection. You had to be the one to reach out and grab his hand. He would look down at you and you swore you could hear him gasp. And when you would want to hug him, you would either have to wait until he sat down or you would have to climb atop a box. It’s not that he was afraid to reciprocate your feelings, he just felt like he didn’t deserve it. He tried to remain stone-cold and distant hoping that it would detour you and make you give up on him but you weren’t known for ‘giving up’. Eventually, when you refused to leave and he had to accept that you wanted to be with him, all you needed to do for a hug was open your arms wide and beckon him closer with your hands. He would roll his eyes and very stiffly lean down for you. You would eagerly wrap yourself as best you could around his neck and, if you were laughing or in an infectiously good mood, he would engulf you in his own. Sometimes he would even stand up and sweep you off your feet. He would bury himself into your neck,  trying his best to smell you through his bone and metal mask.

!NSFW! This has been said many times before but Evan has handles. Those large pieces of metal piercing his shoulders and down his back. It scared you at first when he suggested you hold onto them, they looked so painful and the skin around the puncture wounds were all puffy and red. He reassured you and explained that he doesn’t feel much of anything anymore. When he said that you looked at him confused then, without thinking, you lean forward and gently place a kiss on the wound. He tries to watch you as you trail butterfly kisses over his exposed chest. “Feel better?” You ask pulling away for a moment. He couldn’t respond, his throat welling up with shook, disgust and absolute fascination. You clearly didn’t care about what he looked like, what kind of monster he had become, and it gave him so much more confidence. Hold on to his handlebars, pull and yank them as he thrusts into you, he likes to feel your weight vibrate through the bars into his ribcage. Evan enjoys the feeling of control he gets when he is the one giving you pleasure and also foundation.

BONUS! Drag your tongue along one of the bars. Make sure his eyes never leave you and when you finally lick the whole length of the metal, plant your lips firmly on his mouth. He will kiss back passionately, amazed at how dirty someone so pure and good like you could be.

[goldenmessenger]

TS Actor AU: Reach Out Your Hand Pt 1

Summary: Before recovery can come, you have to admit you have a problem first. In 2019, Roman’s been clean for about 6 years. In 2011, however? Clean is a long way away. He’s alone. Isolated. No-one to turn to. Except he might have one person. But Roman’s ignored him for the last 4 years. But then the voicemail comes.

Read on Ao3 here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So, I’m currently working on a multi-chapter fic set after the last two fics. But that’s probably going to take me a while. So in the meantime, have this fic that’s set 8 years before the others. This is some backstory on Roman, Remus, and Dillon, and how Roman got on the first steps to recovery. Also, I meant for this to be a one-shot, but it’s going to be a two-parter. It’s too long to post all at once. I apologize in advance for this, it’s really intense and a lot of whump and angst. I promise part 2 will make up for everything, and that’ll be up tomorrow.

As usual, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! And once again, I apologize.

Content Warnings: Drunken texts, drug abuse, drug overdose, mild violence (vague mention), self-deprecating thoughts and language, whump, angst

****************************

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Sent at 11:24pm

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

happhy B-day roe

its me Rekus

Remus

i gootta new phonee 

im sorry

iwas the worts 

woest

worsr 

Cant typw

To drukn 

Miss u tho

First b-day wit out u

Do u mis me to?

See u on th news

Got that moie 

Movie deal u wanted

Hop ur doin wel 

That ur happy

M not

Mis u

Love u

****************************

Friday, March 20, 2009

Sent at 2:00 pm

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Hey Ro, happy birthday,

it’s me again. 

I wanna apologize for the mess that I sent last year. Thought you’d like to know I’m in a much better place now.

I’m in college in San Francisco, probably gonna live there after.

Gotta boyfriend, just like you always said you would if we didn’t have to deal with everyone’s expectations.

Went to therapy, boyfriend’s idea

Though he was just a best friend then

It’s been really helpful. 

I was so awful to you. 

I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again

You don’t have to forgive me, I just want a chance to talk

If you want to meet up

Just let me know

****************************

Saturday, March 20, 2010

 Sent at 10:00 am

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx: 

Hey Ro

Happy birthday again. 

At this point, I know you probably won’t reply

This probably isn’t even your number anymore. 

I don’t know why I keep texting you though

Closure, perhaps?

An inability to let go?

Whatever it is, it’s kinda sad

I can’t stop though

If by any chance you are reading this, please respond

I don’t care if it’s to say you hate me, or never want to talk to me again, please

I need you

I need my brother

****************************

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Sent at 10:00 am

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx: 

Happy birthday Ro!

This will probably be the last time I text you. 

My boyfriend, Dillon, pointed out that if you were going to reply, you would’ve already

I need to move on

I need to heal 

I still love you though 

You’ll always be my brother

****************************

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Sent at 11:00 am

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx: 

Ro

Ro, what the hell?

I know I said that I wouldn’t text again 

But I just saw the news

You punched someone?

What on earth

I’d honestly be kinda proud of you if I wasn’t worried

Are you doing ok? 

That’s not like you. 

I was always the violent one. 

I know what I said before, but if you need anyone to talk to, I’m here. 

I won’t be waiting for you anymore, but I’ll still be here for you, if you need me.

All you need to do is reach out.

****************************

Sunday, August 15, 2011

Missed Call at 1:00 am

Voicemail from (xxx) xxx-xxxx: 

 “Ro—Roman! Please, please tell me you’re there, that you’re alright—

I just heard, apparently you’ve been missing for two weeks? Two whole weeks, and I didn’t know—

Please call me back, or text if that works better! Please, no one knows where you are, if you’re ok, nothing!

I — I can’t lose you Roman.

I mean, maybe I did already, maybe I did a long time ago—

But that was different. At least you were alive. You were happy. At least, I thought you were happy. I’m not so sure about that anymore. 

But if by some miracle, some crazy insane miracle you still have this number, if you’re ok, please please let me know. 

I love you so much Ro. 

I don’t think I ever said it enough, but I do. So, so much. 

I hope wherever you are, you’re ok.”

****************************

The dark hotel room was illuminated only by the screen of his phone. He stared at it with glassy eyes, unseeing, as the message finished playing. Roman was leaning against the bed, sitting on the floor. His phone was gleaming on the ground next to him. 

Roman had read Remus’s texts as they came, of course, but he hadn’t thought they were sincere. That they were real. Nothing else in his life was, not even his own parents. So why should his own twin be an exception? But he didn’t delete the texts or block the number. He let the messages keep coming. And he didn’t know why. 

Maybe because part of him had wanted to hope. Why else would he be where he was now? Why else would he have used the most of the little money he had left to get himself here? Here in a dingy little motel on the edge of San Francisco. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going, not that anyone cared. Maybe Remy might’ve. Remy, who Roman realized now might’ve been his only real friend. At least, he could’ve been, if Roman hadn’t pushed him away when Remy had attempted to convince Roman he had a problem. Pushed him away just like Roman had done to everything else good in his life. 

That’s why he hadn’t contacted Remus yet. Why he’d sat here in this room with it’s flea-ridden bed and peeling wallpaper for almost two weeks now, only leaving to buy food from the nearby convenience store. Remus’s texts had seemed like he was doing well. Roman had looked at his Facebook too. Remus was in college, was living with his boyfriend, a job working as a tech at a local theater. He seemed happy. Roman couldn’t bring himself to ruin that like he ruined everything else. 

But that voicemail—he hadn’t ever heard Remus sound so frightened before. So worried. And about Roman, of all people. Why? Why on earth? Sure, they’d been close as kids, but they hadn’t even been in the same room for years. And Roman had ignored all of Remus’s attempts to make contact since. He couldn’t understand it. It made his head hurt. He was feeling bitterly jittery, and not very glittery. 

That was a weird sentence. When did his thoughts stop making sense? He needed his pills, needed them. He couldn’t deal with all of these thoughts and emotions. He needed them to go away. He needed them to stop. He fumbled on all fours for the bottle, and finally found it, open and empty. That wasn’t right, it’d been full only...only...he couldn’t remember. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he pitched forward, face planting into the ground. 

Something wasn’t right. Why was his brain so fuzzy. Everything hurt so much, he couldn’t think. He needed help. He needed Remus. He somehow managed to find his phone, and hit the contact simply labeled “R.”

The phone rang. And rang. Finally, it was picked up. And a familiar voice spoke.

****************************

Remus ran his hand through his sleeping boyfriend’s hair. It was a calming motion that somewhat helped to calm his racing mind. But not by much. Dillon had attempted to convince Remus to rest, but Remus couldn’t sleep. Not when Roman was missing. He’d gotten the news around midnight, from a former friend of Roman’s, Remy. 

Remy had been the one to tell Remus that Roman had been struggling with a drug addiction, though Remy didn’t know how long. He’d tried to get Roman some help as soon as he found out, but the other man had rejected it and broke off their friendship. Remy had gone to Roman’s apartment that morning to attempt to repair their relationship, with the hope that he could eventually convince Roman to get some help. But he was nowhere to be found. The door was unlocked, and there was two weeks worth of mail on the floor. He’d found Remus’s number on accident, on a post-it on Roman’s fridge, labeled “Bro.” That’s when he’d called Remus and, upon finding out he was Roman’s brother, told him everything.

Remus didn’t quite understand why Roman had his number saved like that, but the more pressing concern was finding Roman. Remus attempted to call Roman several times, each one going straight to voicemail.

He didn’t blame Dillon for falling asleep though. Remus would if he could. He couldn’t though. The hand that wasn’t running through Dillon’s hair had a death grip on his phone. He couldn’t stop staring at it, praying to anyone who would listen that it would ring.

He didn’t know what he expected though. Roman had never responded to him in the past, so why would now be any diff— 

“I’m a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie wooorld

Life in plastic, it’s fantastic...”

Remus startled as his phone’s ringtone filled the room. Next to him, Dillon shifted and blinked tiredly at him. 

“Why on earth do you still have that obnoxious song as your ringtone?” Dillon questioned, a little grumpy at being woken so unceremoniously. 

“You can brush my hair, undress me everywheere

Imagination, life is your creation...”

Remus could barely hear him. He could barely hear his own ringtone. All he could do was stare at the name that lit up the screen.

Lil bRO(man)

“Come on, Barbie, let's go party!”

Dillon looked up at Remus, the sleep slowly fading from his gaze as his brain slowly began to catch up.

“Re, what’s wrong?”

“I’m a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie wooorld

Life in plastic, it’s fantastic...”

The chorus of the song began to repeat, and Remus knew he was running out of time. This was something he’d wanted for years, and now, it was happening right in front of him. But he was frozen. For some reason, he couldn’t answer the phone.

“You can brush my hair, undress me everywheere…”

When Remus didn’t respond, Dillon sat up, and saw the phone lying limp in his boyfriend’s grasp.

“Imagination, life is you—”

Quick as a lightning bolt, Dillon grabbed the phone and hit ANSWER before it could go to voicemail. Almost as quick, he hit the speaker button.

There was a long moment of silence. Too long. Finally, Remus’s voice returned.

“Ro, is that you?” He asked, hopefully. “Are you ok, are you hurt, where—”

“Re. I— I didn’t acshully think you’d anshwer.”

Roman’s familiar voice leaked through the speakers like water through a broken dam. Despite Remus’s relief, however, he immediately recognized something was wrong. One look at Dillon’s face told Remus that he’d heard it too. The way Roman’s words slurred themselves together. Remus took a deep breath. He knew how to handle this. He just needed to stay calm.

“Of course I would.” Remus said sincerely. “Ro, why don’t you tell me where you are? Maybe I can come to you and we can have this conversation in person?”

However, Roman didn’t seem to hear Remus’s question.

“I meshed up Re, meshed up big time, I ran ‘way from evything ‘cause I shcrewed up, an’ now I’m losht an’ allone an’ I jus’ wanted to hear your voishe one lasht time…”

Remus felt his heart seize in panic at those words. He grabbed the phone out of Dillon’s hands as the man looked on worriedly. Remus clutched that phone like it was his lifeline. No, Roman’s lifeline.

“Roman, wait, what do you mean, one last time? Where are you, what’s going on?”

“Ate too many of th’ pret-ty white circles, and now I can’ shtand up right and m’ brain won’ work.”

Roman’s voice grew thick, and it began to sound like he was crying.

“M sorry Re, ‘m an awful brother. I can’ do anything righ’ an’ I was too much of a cow-ward to tell you I was here.”

Remus’s eyes widened in shock as his brain processed the information. White circles, didn’t a lot of pills take that form? Including addictive ones. And Roman was here? San Francisco?

He looked over to Dillon to find that his boyfriend had his own phone out, and was callling someone. Dillon caught his gaze, and mouthed 911. Keep him talking. Remus took a deep breath. He needed to keep it together. For Roman’s sake. 

“Roman, you’re going to be fine, just tell me where you are, and I’ll be right there. You said that you’re here? Where is here?”

“Th’ golden ci-ty, home of Saint Franny. Wan-ed to talk to you, couldn’ get up th’ nerve. ‘M in this shtupid lil hot-tel, it schucks. Bayshide Mot-tel, I think. Rom 320. Picked it cause it wash our birth-dayte.”

Remus quickly glanced over to Dillon urgently, and his boyfriend began relaying Roman’s location to the paramedics. 

“Ro, we’ll be right there, just hold on, ok? We’re on our way.” 

No response.

“Roman, Roman!”

Silence echoed from the other end of the line. 

“No, nononononono no! Roman, please!”

In a dark dingy motel room several miles away, the only sound was a brother’s anguished cries, and the only light was that of a cracked phone screen next to a limp hand.

****************************

AN: Again, I’m really sorry about this cliffhanger, and I will fix it tomorrow.

****************************

TAGLIST:

@ironwoman359

@galacticguppy

@trashpanda-remus 

@atticusfinchthelegend

@ravenclawunicorn1

@voidvirgil

@dogwithpants

@dreaming-about-kittens

[sunnysidewrites]

Assassin!Seungcheol Pt 2 FINALE

THIS IS LONGER THAN WOLF!WONWOO BY 5 WORDS IM SCREAMING THIS IS OFFICIALLY MY LONGEST SCENARIO EVER!!!! bc i tagged her in part 1, im tagging @cheollies again bc she was one of the reasons why i was motivated ljdsfljdfl <3333 THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR WONDERFUL FEEDBACK IM SO SORRY ITS LATE!!! THIS IS A WILD RIDE AGAIN!! ENJOY THE FINALE MY CHILDREN!!!! <333333

warnings: some violence, references to part 1, my tears and anguish from completing this

Part 1 | Part 2 (Finale)

Two months.

That’s how long it had been since you had contacted him

You sighed as you stirred your coffee

Yep, you guessed it, in the same cafe that all the workers know you on a first name basis

Why do I keep coming back here? You glumly chided yourself, your cheek resting on your palm

You check your phone for the twentieth time that hour, wishing to have at least some notification about his whereabouts

Even if it’s something like “hey i’m safe and don’t look for me”

Bc all you need is just some validation that he’s okay,,,, but nothing. No texts, no calls, no “accidental” video calls, no “hey loser where are you” to check in where you are,,,, all you get is a black screen

Even though you practically have your lockscreen ingrained in your head from the amount of times you’ve seen it, you still can’t help but choke up a little

A blurry candid of seungcheol holding out his hand about to smear you with his ice cream mockingly stares back at you

You shake your head and get up your seat as you pack your things

You’re done. You’re done waiting. You gave him two whole freaking months, an entire 60 days. Sulking around waiting for someone to come back to you isn’t your forte.

And that will end today, you resolutely nod to yourself and start heading out the door.

“You what?!”

He sighs and holds his hand up, “Please. Don’t yell. It’s early.” He reaches his hand out for a biscuit

“How can you even nonchalantly eat breakfast right now??! Do you even understand what you’ve done?!” Joshua smacks his hand, dropping the biscuit

“Um hEY--”

“You made it this far without him suspecting anything, which is a major surprise and accomplishment. But it will bite you in the butt sooner or later, Cheols.” He briefly flinches at the name but Joshua is just prESSING the issue

“He’s gonna kill you. Not only you but probably her too. This is way too dangerous!”

“jOSHUA! Please! I know what I did, and I absolutely have no regrets.” He shakes his head, a faraway gaze in his eyes. “I’ve killed many people before, but I at least knew the gist of why I was. But she,,,, she’s just a pawn in my dad’s game,,, completely useless”

Joshua leans back in his chair and blinks slowly

“You love her. Don’t you,” he says more as a statement than an inquiry

He takes his silence as a definite answer and rubs his forehead. “Seungcheol…”

“Look, he’s been giving me regular jobs to do, you know the usual. He hasn’t caught on… yet… And he has much bigger things to worry about.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not keeping tabs!”

He sighs, ready to cut off the conversation. “We’re done here--”

And there he sees

He freezes, the only thing moving is his eyes on someone’s figure

You walk down the street taking in the bustling city view

Your eyes flicker to a table outside a store a few blocks ahead

You stop and squint your eyes. That wasn’t… was it?

You rub your eyes but by then the two people sitting there disappeared

You shake your head and continue walking, completely convinced you’re getting delirious by the second

You finally disappear out of sight and only then does seungcheol let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding

“Dude,,,, you have to tell her at some point”

“I know… I know.”

You barge and storm in the office with your arms folded

“I need to find someone.”

Your father looks up from his paperwork, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose

“Y/N… can this wait?”

“I have been for two months and I’m sick of it. I need you to hire someone to help me find them”

“Sweetie, I’m really busy--”

“Dad….. Dad please. I have to. I need to.”

“....fine. I’ll have my assistant deal with it”

And you’re like yES OMG ILY THANKS POPS

He tells you to go to his assistant’s office a little ways down the hall where you’re greeted by the typical warm person

“Hello, Ms. Y/N, I haven’t seen you in a while!”

“Hi jeonghan!!! Look I really need you to find someone asap”

“Ah, yes, your father just notified me about that just now,,,, well I’ll do my best to search for someone in our team. Give me until the end of the day today?”

And you’re like oh my god he’s willing to put this fIRST :’)))))

“Omg that’s actually really fast,,, don’t you have more important things to do? I can wait a few days if that’s the case,,,,”

“No no! Ahah it’s fine you just hang on tight, I will definitely get back to you shortly!”

You’re like oH MY GOD YAY JEONGHAN U ARE SO NICE AND THE BEST NO ONE CAN COMPARE and you promptly hug him before leaving

“Yeah,,,, nice,,, that’s all I’ll ever be,” he wistfully smiles and lets out a small sigh

You come back to the office later that night and Jeonghan is like i found one of our best investigators/hackers!!!!

You’re like omg aju nICE

You and the woman walk to her “headquarters,” is what she calls them when it's just the room she works in lmao

The moment you both get settled you make it crystal clear

“Choi Seungcheol.”

And obviously you tell her a little more about him lmao

All you can see is her fingers flying over the keyboard and tons of files filling the screen

She spends a few more minutes digging but she’s like sorry babe none of them fit your description

And you’re like that can’t be right,,,,,

“Can you check the surveillance cameras? On streets and stuff?”

You tell her the date, time, and location of when you last saw him and she dives into another search party

“hmmm -- i foUND SOMETHING”

You see when he kisses you and you have to shield your eyes away from the impact,,,, your chest suddenly feels heavier

She senses this and gently places her hand on top of yours

“,,,,I’m sorry. We’ll find him”

She follows the cameras once he heads home and she’s like ok well looks like he’s staying in this beat up motel

She reviews cams even up to present day and still sees him leaving and entering the building and you’re like ok i’m sold and start to get up

She puts a hand on your arm and is like uh wait honey you aren’t going alone

“Well who else is gonna go??”

“Me. I was physically trained sufficiently enough for a bodyguard position, so don’t sweat”

She stands up and starts rummaging through her makeshift closet to pull out 2 bulletproof vests

You look at her stunned before breaking out in a grin

“I’m game.”

“You went back on my orders? Do you know what position you’re in?!” He barks

Seungcheol trains his eyes on the floor and numbly responds, “I didn’t think there was a reason to kill an innocent person who has no involvement in this business. It’s her father, no?”

His dad sighs and rubs his temples. “Son, you follow. I command. I guess you’ll just have to face the consequences for not obeying me, your own father… Tsk,” he distastefully clucks his tongue. “You actually thought I didn’t know this entire time. I knew you didn’t kill her that night of your romantic doings”

“I know,,, It just happened,,,, I had to do it to get her to trust me” stop lying to urself cheols smh we and mr choi all know ur whipped

“Just please leave her alone.”

His icy chuckle sends shivers down Seungcheol’s spine for the first time

“Ohoho,,, you thought you were the one in trouble?”

Seungcheol looks up at him with his eyes narrowed in confusion

And then they narrow in fury

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I most certainly would.” does anyone get the reference lmao #tb to part 1

“What did you dO TO HER”

“Guess you’ll both find out. Shall we?”

“This,,,, is where he’s staying at?”

You look at the paint peeling off the sign “Stay Inn”

The hinges of the battered doors are about to come off

Two streetlamps flicker lazily, yellow light pathetically illuminating the parking lot

“The footage doesn’t lie,” she says as she takes a look around. “Room 114, let’s go”

You and her cautiously creep up in front of the door and then kick it wide open

“....No one’s here.” And you can’t help but feel a lil disappointed :((

Both of you are looking around his room for any sort of clues but it looks like any (less than) average hotel room with clothes scattered everywhere and plastic plates littered around the table

Eventually you both ditch the place and you’re about to call it a day when she abruptly stops you

“Wait. i heard something over there,” she subtly looks over at the other side of the street

You hold your breath as she discreetly scans around the area and then

“geT DOWN!” She pulls your arm down as she drops to the ground

Your ears are ringing from the gunshots from the one right next to you and the one on the other side

“We have to leave now!” She scrambles up and tries hiding behind parked vehicles on the curb as she pushes you to move

You’re able to run down only a couple of blocks when you see another group of men coming at you in the same direction

You look to your right and there’s also another group

She curses under her breath before pulling you to another direction, “this way!”

You have to weave through miscellaneous objects through alleys and garbage cans

You’re pushing your legs as fast as you can despite the growing burning sensation LOL I LOVE THAT ALBUM STAN TALENT STAN SF9

You’re about to collapse when someone tACKLES YOU FROM BEHIND

“Mmfdffmlfj!!!!” Your cries are muffled behind their hand

The last thing you remember is her voice calling your name

“Try again.” You can barely make out the words before the frigid water hits your face

You cough violently and open your eyes

“Ah, you’re finally awake.”

In the dimly lit room your eyes try to adjust to the dark shapes and what seems to be in some sort of empty abandoned building

The man gestures to someone to brighten up the place and only then do you take a good look at who’s in front of you

The infamous Mr. Choi staring back at you, the very man your father has talked about countless of times

“Bring him out,” he orders as he keeps his eyes locked with yours

You hear the heavy grunt of the metal door opening and you instantly hear a voice that you’ve spent this entire time searching for

“Let.. me… go!” He spits out as he attempts to wriggle out of the men’s grips

He looks up and it’s all that takes him to still again

Your disheveled wet hair sticking to the edges of your face, the top you bought in the mall that one day now drenched in water, the dismay in your eyes

His breath gets caught in his throat before he angrily turns to his father and fumes, “Why is she here? Why did you bring me?”

He chuckles and strides to you with every menacing step

“Didn’t I say you would both find out?” He traces your jaw and you have to use every fiber of your body to not vomit on his polished Prada leather dress shoes

Seungcheol grits his teeth and violently thrashes around in their grip around him

Your breathing gets heavier as his hand drifts down to your neck

“Would be a shame to end things here… wouldn’t it?” He laughs before whipping out a gun from his pocket

“But let’s just cut out the games. You were meant to die on that night, but my idiot of a son couldn’t do it.” He points the head right in front of you

“So i’ll do it in his stead. Any last words you wanna exchange?” He gestures to you and his son

You look around to find any way out but all the entrances are utterly blocked by his guards

You slowly turn around to the rustling noise

“Stop it, Seungcheol…. Don’t act like you care.”

He looks at you in bewilderment and scoffs, “Act? You think I’m acting? I nearly risked my life to save yours! And this is just,,,, acting?”

“You were supposed to kill me that night. And you didn’t. That was your biggest mistake. You should have just ended things, not like the pathetic way you did over the phone,” your voice slightly faltered.

“It wasn’t a mistake! I wanted you to get away from this, to get away from me! Why can’t you understand that?” He was in disbelief; he practically saved you!

“You’re right. It was a bigger mistake on my end that I believed I mattered for once in my life.” He softens his facial expressions when you look up at him with a dead stare. “Y/N….”

You numbly turn back at the gun pointed in front of you

“So? Aren’t you gonna do it?”

He laughs at your provocation and merely shrugs

“If you say so”

You hear him loading the gun and just when you anticipate a bullet firing, you hear one but from behind you

The entire building is in chaos and smoke and dirt fill your vision

“Seungcheol!” Joshua and Junhui along with a whole team invade the space

He only points towards you and yells over the noise to have them focus on your safety

They nod and send the team over to help you get out of the guards’ grip

Joshua, Junhui, and 2 others are staying back to help Seungcheol as the rest of the group rushes to your side

As he’s ducking with his arms over his head, he pulls out his gun and manages to skim Minghao’s arm

He curses and holds his wound together while shouting something to another member

Soonyoung kicks the gun out of Mr. Choi’s hands as Jihoon and Seungkwan lock his arms with handcuffs

Two people who quickly introduce themselves as Wonwoo and Mingyu are on both of your sides with their arms wrapped around your shoulders

They’re talking so quickly that all the coherent words you can hear are “get” “you” “safety” “right now”

“Seungcheol??” You look at both of them, but neither are meeting your gaze

“He told us to get you first. He’ll be fine,,, he has the rest of the guys there”

“But what if he’s hurt?!”

Wonwoo quickly looks back at his shoulder and sees a few of the guards running after them

“There’s no time! We have to go right now!”

You finally burst out into the open chilly night air and make a beeline for the waiting van parked outside

They push you in first and once Mingyu slides in he immediately slams the door shut. “fLOOR IT!!!”

Vernon slams on the gas pedal and you’re off

The entire car ride is silent save for the heavy breathing from the adrenaline pumping through everyone

Wonwoo, the closest one next to you, puts his hand reassuringly on your knee

“We’re taking you to our headquarters, which is essentially our hideout,,, you’ll be safe there, I promise”

Still staring out the window, you numbly nod as he slowly removes his hand

When you arrive there, you do what they told you to: cleanse, get dressed, and hold on tight as they find a way to contact her father

After a somewhat relaxing shower, you emerge from the bathroom wearing a baggy shirt underneath a hoodie up to mid-thigh and sweats that were left outside of the door when someone named Chan knocked on it earlier

You walk to the living room where everyone is gathered around a circle talking about different methods of communication with everyone

“Oh, Y/N,” Wonwoo gets up and jogs to you. “Feel free to get something from the kitchen to eat. You can hang around the front or the back, but it’s really dark and cold, so we don’t want anything more bad to happen”

You flicker your eyes from his face to the other 3 on the couches

They slightly wave to you with a small smile and continue their discussion

You nod and thank him before heading to the kitchen

You grab an ice cream bar and a bottle of water before heading out to the front

You sit on a bench and look up at the starry night sky

Just earlier this morning, you were resolute to find him

And now fast forward to the end of the day, you were with his coworkers at their hideout

As you finish up your dessert, you brush yourself off and take a look around the area

You go around to the back and see a picnic table with folding chairs all over the yard

As you approach the table, you see a few polaroids that seem to be too familiar

“Wait… this was when we went to the cafe….”

You flip over each picture and see scribbles of writing on them

“The ice cream wasn’t as sweet as her”

You flip over each picture and see more writing similar to the caption before and realize all of the pictures are of you

The last one you flip over is the last night you saw him

He took a picture of you talking to your cousin,,,, you slowly turn over the picture

“This could have been me…”

“There you go again.”

You quickly put down the picture and slowly turn towards the voice

Seungcheol, all battered and bruised, is standing just 10 feet away

Cuts and scrapes are all over his face and arms, his clothes ripped and dirtied

He slowly walks towards you and you can’t help but to lean against the table for support

“Do… what?”

He stops in front of you, his face only inches away from yours

“Being irresistible. We’re not even together yet and you’re already wearing my clothes?”

“What makes you think we’re going to get together? Do you always want to kill your potential girlfriends?”

He gently places his hand on your chin and turns your head to face him

“No. Do you always go on a spontaneous hunt for a guy and end up almost dying?”

“That’s not fair; I didn’t know you were caught up in this shady stuff!”

“....Are you gonna walk away from it? From me?” He looks at you, a hint of desperation and anxiety in his eyes. “That’s exactly why I told you to forget about me”

You place both of your hands on his face, caressing his cheeks. “If we’re gonna make this relationship work, we’re gonna have to go over some rules about secrets”

He lights up at the word “relationship” and you can’t help but smile at his childlike grin

“You gotta stop that too”

He’s like ??? what do you mean

“Being vulnerable.” And you both seal your promises with a lingering kiss that tastes like coffee ice cream

[samwinlover-blog]

Lockdown P2

Part One Here 

Pairing: Sam x reader (eventually)  Characters: Dean, Sam, the reader, Daeva, an unnamed demon  Warnings: violence, demons, swearing, a little angst Word count: around 1,500  Summary: The reader grapples with whether or not to trust the Winchesters, but when they end up saving her life (again) the answer becomes clear.  A/N: I decided to rewrite this one because I accidentally deleted it! I’ll be adding onto/tweaking the original summary I posted (so that’s why it’s a little different) I hope you guys enjoy! Also all my neighbors are seniors going to college and I’m super sad about it so if my writing is a little angsty that’s why:(  A/N #2: Special thanks to @messy-buns-and-shotguns who’s lovely ask gave me the motivation to write this! <3 Tag list:  @amanda-teaches  @myplaceofthingsilove  @spectaculicious@bambinovak @bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@padackles2010 @mamaredd123@milkymilky-cocopuff @iwantthedean@zeppo-in-a-trenchcoat @spntrista @d-s-winchester@just-another-busy-fangirl@winchesterprincessbride@waywardjoy@supernaturalyobsessed@whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname@sandlee44@fangirl1802@kittenofdoomage @evyiione @winchestersmut@purgatoan@mogaruke @therewillbeblood @megansescape @taste-of-dean@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid  @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala@deathtonormalcy56@wildfirewinchester @notnaturalanahi@jensen-jarpad@impalaimagining@fangirlextraordinaire@itseverythingilike@jesspfly@love-kittykat21@mysteriouslyme81@mrswhozeewhatsis@aiaranradnay@supernatural-jackles@girl-next-door-writes@spnsasha@27bmm@spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches@myplaceofthingsilove@spectaculicious@bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@spn-imagines-to-feel@spn-ficfanatic@cleverdame@saxxxology@jensen-jarpad @keepcalmandcarryondean dancingpanda137 @thelaughingshadow 

Masterlist Here!

They were hunters- or were they? You grappled with the idea, turning it over and over in your head. On one hand, the name Winchester was well known in the hunter community, but that didn’t necessarily mean they were who they said. And on the other, why the hell would anybody want to help you? You hunted solo, barely went to hunter gatherings, and didn’t work well with others. That had been your MO since you were 17 years old: sleeping in single roomed motels and driving around in your jeep from case to case. 

You looked at the two men standing before you- who could either be your saviors or the ones that killed you- and didn’t quite know what to say. By the looks of it, they didn’t either. The shorter one- Dean was his name- was staring at you with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. His brother, Sam, was looking at you as well, but his face was soft- kind even. You didn’t like it. 

It made you queasy to be looked at that way, like you were someone who needed saving. You didn’t blame him though; he had just seen the living shit beaten out of you not five minutes earlier. But you weren’t the type of person to accept help when it was offered- especially when strangers were the ones offering it. Actually, you didn’t even know if they wanted to help you- so you decided you’d test them first. 

You didn’t have any holy water or salt, but if they were hunters working on a demon case you assumed they would. So, squaring your shoulders and staring up at the Winchesters suspiciously, you said, “Prove it. Prove you’re human.” 

Dean chuckled and nodded at his brother, who pulled a flask with a cross on it from his jacket pocket. You found yourself smiling, the flask was not unlike the one you usually had glued to your hip. Sam opened the lid with a pop and poured the holy water on both him and his brother’s sleeves, practically drenching their forearms. 

You waited for the sizzle or hissing sound of burning flesh, but it didn’t come. So they were human, that much was clear. Okay, you thought to yourself, what do I do now? 

You weren’t entirely sure what to say now that you knew they didn’t have black eyes, so you just blurted out what was on your mind, “What do you want with me then?” 

This took the brothers by surprise and you saw Sam furrow his brow before responding. The bite in his words them stung, and you weren’t sure why. Sam was a stranger, his opinion shouldn’t have mattered to you- but for some reason, it did.  

“Why do you assume it’s something bad?” 

Well, he got you there. Why did you assume it was bad? Why did you always assume that? The question posed really threw you for a loop. It would be easy to blame it on your sorry excuse for a childhood, or your Dad’s tried and true motto of ‘trust nobody but yourself’, or maybe you could just say it was because you were a hunter- and you’d seen too much shit to really trust anything anymore. But, as you said earlier, those would be easy ways out. Why were you so god damn cynical? 

When you didn’t respond Dean did for you, “Sammy, back off. Alright, what can you tell us about this case? We just got here a few days ago, and the only thing we know so far is that those demons sure as shit don’t like you.” 

You gave a dry chuckle before replying, “I don’t know much either, to be honest. I was working the case from the outside a few weeks back until they caught on and the assholes ended up framing me. They possess the guards though, I don’t know how many but I’d say a good 3/4ths aren’t human.”  

Sam furrowed his brow, “Do you know why they’re here? What’s the point?” 

You shook your head, “They don’t have one, I don’t think.” 

Those were the worst type of cases, when demons were just “having fun”. Without a purpose or mission to complete, these demons were free to torture, maim and kill as they pleased. Their idea of ‘fun’ almost always included the deaths of humans, usually in the most gruesome displays imaginable. You saw the Winchesters exchange glances, as if they were thinking the same thing you were. 

The case was worse for you though, there were more risks. You were already too far in and it was personal- all of those demons knew you by name. Even though it’d kill you to admit it, you were scared. Escaping would be near impossible even if you ended up letting the Winchesters help you. Your pride wouldn’t let you admit to any of these doubts, but they were always in the back of your mind. 

When the brothers started talking amongst themselves, arguing about the case and what not, you decided to check out your injuries. Those demons had given you quite a beating, and you just hoped the saran wrap had done its job. 

Without saying a word, you stalked into the windowless room before you and lifted your shirt up over your arms. Neither Winchester seemed to notice at first until you started peeling off the saran wrap layer by layer. With the first crinkle of the plastic, you felt them turn and go rigid- and could have sworn Dean let out a small chuckle. 

Your shirt was tossed aside and crumpled on the floor in front of you, but it was the last thing on your mind. The closer you got to your actual stomach the more it hurt, layer by layer until you were gritting your teeth to keep from crying out. The last strip came off excruciatingly slow, sticking to your skin before finally letting go. 

Your stomach was pretty bad, you weren’t going to deny it. Purple bruises covered almost your entire abdomen, starting just under your ribs and ending just above the V of your hips. But it could have been worse- nothing was broken (as far as you could tell) and nothing was bleeding. You could handle a few bruises, you could handle them because you didn’t have the option not to.  

Getting your shirt back over your head proved painful as hell, but you managed to do it and only cry out once. But it was one time too many, and Sam was at your side in a second. He helped you ease the shirt over your shoulders and gripped your hand tight when he saw you grit your teeth at the motion. Half of you wanted to pull away, and the other half was wondering why he cared? If the roles were reversed, you sure as hell wouldn’t have. 

“You good?” Dean called from across the room and you nodded in return, “Yeah, yeah, fine.” 

“We’ll be right back- just gotta get a few things and then we can make a plan.” Sam turned to you, looking like he genuinely felt bad leaving you in that dank room. 

“Okay, I’ll be here.” You chuckled dryly and found it hurt your stomach. 

“Wait, what’s your name?” Sam called behind his shoulder before leaving your cell. 

“(Y/N).” You replied, and you found that giving him a fake one hadn’t even crossed your mind.  

Not five minutes after the Winchesters had left, promising they’d return soon enough, the small framed woman from earlier appeared. 

“Hey girlie, remember when you burned me and messed with my face?” She drawled, pointing lazily to the gash on her forehead, “And I promised that you’d regret it the next time I saw you?” 

You didn’t respond, but readied yourself for a fight. 

“Welcome to next time, bitch.” 

She looked positively wicked as she threw the door open and stepped into its frame, eliminating any possibility of you getting past her. You were stuck, but not without options. It was just one demon and, weaponless as you were, you could take her. 

She pulled out a switchblade and opened it with a click, you felt yourself shudder. Maybe you wouldn’t get out of this one alive. 

You cursed yourself for being to proud to ask the Winchesters for a weapon of some sort, with some holy water or a gun you’d be out of this situation already. But you’d let your hubris get in the way, and now you were backed into a corner and out of options. 

You stood up from the end of your cot, squaring your shoulders and balling your fists in anticipation for the demon’s first strike. But before anything could happen, the older guard from before showed up in the doorway. 

“Hey, sweetheart, fancy seeing you here.” He chuckled, low and menacing. 

Your heart began to race, two against one weren’t the best odds. You backed up a step, but found you were already at the end of the cell- no way out. Calm down, calm down, calm down, you urged yourself to take a few breaths and figure out what to do next. 

Nothing had changed, fighting was still your best option- only now there was less of a chance that you’d get out of there alive.

The older guard lunged and you sidestepped him, narrowly dodging his outstretched arms. Almost immediately after, the small framed woman ran at you, switchblade in hand. You caught her wrist and quickly disarmed her- grabbing the knife for yourself. 

Okay, now you have a weapon, you thought, omitting the fact that knives did nothing against demons. 

They struck again, this time working together. The woman pushed your shoulders back while he grabbed the knife out of your hand. You scrambled to get away from them, but it was no use. They had you pinned to the wall, just like you were not a half hour earlier. Except this time it was private, they could do just about anything they wanted and get away with it. They were no cameras in solitary. 

“I’m gonna let Daeva have this one, you and her seem to have a score to settle.” The older one breathed and nodded to the demon at his right, his stale breath sending a chill through your bones. 

The small framed woman, once again, clicked the switch blade open and held it up to your cheek. “Such a pretty face, it would be a shame it someone went and cut it up now wouldn’t it?” She stuck her bottom lip out into an exaggerated pout before dragging the blade up and down. It wasn’t deep enough to draw blood, but you knew that if she pushed just a little harder it would be. 

Up until that moment you’d completely forgotten about your stomach, still battered and bruised. But when the older demon slammed a fist into it, probably just for his own amusement, you were quickly reminded. 

You cried out through gritted teeth and closed your eyes. You didn’t want to see the two hellish creatures in front of you anymore, and knew you were powerless to save yourself. So you took comfort in the dark, in the fact that you weren’t giving them the satisfaction of looking as they scarred you. 

But nothing happened, the pain you braced yourself for never came. You heard a zap and a gasp and then, before you could even open your eyes, someone asked, “Are you okay?!” 

Sam. It was Sam’s voice you heard. 

[svfedotov]

Mukbang: Korean for Eating and Broadcasting (Part 2)

         Se-Yeon gripped her cellphone in her hand but she couldn’t quite bring herself to dial 119. Something about Min-Hee promising to tell her story captured her interest. Perhaps it was the sincerity behind her voice or just Se-Yeon’s own need for a rational explanation, but her fingers froze up as she tore her eyes away from her phone and back onto her computer.

             Min-Hee was still holding the clouded eyeball to the camera as if test her audiences reaction. With a fluid movement, she dropped the eyeball into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully before making a bitter face.

             “Yuck, it tastes like grizzle.”

            She shook her head playfully and smiled.

   clowns_are_coming:

  Gotta eat everything LOL

      hobitzzz:

    i called the cops! they’re coming to get u!

      RoguePirateParty:

    ugh, ur nasty >:(

      Min-Hee ignored the comments and dug a fingernail into the right cheek, getting herself a large piece. She looked at thoughtfully.

             “His name is Lee Young-Hwan and he was born in 1960.”

             She let out a small sigh as she ate the meat.

             “He is the only son of Lee Sung-Ki and Lee Sook-Ja. He comes from very old money, some sort of linen and cloth company established during the Cheaongye era. As you can imagine, as he was growing up, he didn’t lack for anything.”

             She reached off camera in the brief pause and brought out a large serrated knife. Se-Yeon felt her heart jump into her throat but like a bad car wreck, could not look away. Min-Hee moved the head face up and put the knife between the lips.  

             “While the rest of the country suffered from the after-effects of the Korean War, he grew up far away from the troubles.”

             The knife moved back and forth through the corners of the lips, down through the cheeks that split like an overcooked hotdog, and caught abruptly at the jaw bone.

             “Summers in Europe, grade school years in his uptown home in the Pyeongchang-Dong area of Seoul where he attended the elite schools. You know the type,” she added, grasping the jaw with one hand and pressing against the head with the other. “Rich and spoiled.”

             With an audible crack, she twisted the jaw to the left and then back to the right, working out whatever cartilage still held it to the skull. The jaw bone, now lacking any cheek muscle or sinew to hold up, flopped cartoonishly open, only being held by the skin under the chin. Min-Hee laughed and grabbing the head by the hair, showed it to the camera. Se-Yeon could clearly see the full damage of the former Mr. Lee.

             His mismatched eye holes held only the one eye and stared dead back at the audience. The hunks of flesh that Min-Hee had picked and eaten left large craters in his face and smooth crests of bone could be seen where the forehead was. The jaw though, that just hung limply off the head like a horny cartoon wolf, and within it, it revealed a perfect set of teeth that led all the way back throat.

      LifeisaBunnyman:

    …no tongue…

             Instead of what should’ve been a gray, cooked tongue, there was a jagged cut along a meaty stump. Odd, though Se-Yeon, I don’t remember her taking the tongue out. It must have been removed earlier, perhaps even when…

             “Well, he just wouldn’t stop screaming, you know?” said Min-Hee. She grabbed the jaw and mimicked mouth movements as she put on a goofy voice. “Oh please Min, I’ll give you whatever you want, I won’t call the cops, blah blah blah.”

             Once again, she placed the head on the table and grabbed the knife. She swiftly cut through the rest of the chin skin and removed the jaw completely. Her hand glistened with the oil from the chin fat as she drew the jaw to her mouth and peeled off the small amount of flesh that still clung to the bone with her teeth. It jiggled in her teeth before she sucked it in and chewed.

             liu_dai:

    oh my god oh my god oh my god

      clowns_are_coming:

    woah, hardcorre

      “That part is pretty chewy,” she said through a mouthful of food. “But the cheeks are the best.”

             She dug the chopsticks deep into the right cheek. The flesh gave way easily and she gleefully ate it with a satisfied sigh. After a half a minute of pecking, she once again reached for the knife and with the tip this time, ran the edge along the heads brow from one lobe to the other. As she worked, she continued her story.

             “Anyway, Young-Hwan had everything he wanted and you know what happens to people who have everything they want? They like to do bad things.”

             She grabbed the edge of the forehead skin and pulled carefully so as not to rip it.

             “I hear raw skin peels off like an orange, but the cooked skin keeps threatening to tear,” she commented. “Sorry, I just keep interrupting my story. Okay, so as Young-Hwan got older, he started to do bad things. When he was in middle and high school, he was the ringleader of his own gang and would go into town after school to beat up kids from other schools. He knew he couldn’t do at his own school, of course, everyone was just as rich and powerful as he was and he would get in trouble really quickly, but the kids in other districts were easy pickings. He would find the smallest, weakest kids and shake them down for money! Can you believe that! He had an allowance bigger than some people’s paychecks and he beat up poor kids for change!”

             A look of anger flashed across her face as she spoke.

             “And it wasn’t just kids, he would beat up homeless people too, even had his gang take pictures of it as he squatted next their beat up bodies. Rumor had it he had driven some poor student to suicide but no one ever came forward to prosecute him. Everyone was scared of him. He got in plenty of trouble for all the fighting and stealing, of course, but nothing ever came of it. He would either pay off the cops when they showed up or his parents would pay them off later. He never learned consequences.”

             She paused her story as the forehead peeling finally reached the hairline. With the extra weight of the hair and the hair follicles, the rest of the job was much easier. Min-Hee cut and scalped along the hairline and with one final tug, pulled the entire mass off the skull. Trapped steam gently curled out warm bone. She held up the scalp and looked at the camera.

             “I’m not eating this,” and threw it off screen.

             Se-Yeon had remained speechless the entire time. She instinctively shoved a handful of salad in her mouth to prevent herself from screaming, feeling the cucumber and tomato juice drip down her chin. She wanted to turn it off, she had to turn it off, but she was scared to even go near her keyboard for fear that Min­-Hee would find her and eat her next. All Se-Yeon could do was chew sloppily and stare forward, her hands in tight fists on her lap.

             Her food seemed foreign in her mouth but she knew if she kept eating it, she would be human, a good human eating her good food. Not whatever what was playing on the screen. She felt her mind go blank as she frenzied over the food around her, trying to separate her world from that of Min-Hee’s. The rice is next, she thought, and grabbed the rice bowl. Forgoing the chopsticks, she scooped as much as she could in her mouth and chewed. As soon as one bite was done, she immediately shoved in the other, devouring the whole bowl in mere seconds. The fish, already half eaten, went in as well. She winced as the small bones scratched her cheeks and scraped her throat, but she didn’t slow down.

             Her stomach moaned as the food hit her gut, but she silenced it with the entire glass of barley tea. She loudly burped and fell over weakly on the low table, her head turned to Min-Hee’s show. The food bowls were scattered at her feet to which she quickly kicked them away in disgust. She felt a little more relaxed, but not by much. Not nearly enough.

             At some point during Se-Yeon’s fury, Min-Hee had gotten a small crab hammer and was gently breaking open Young-Hwan’s skull.

             “Eventually,” continued Min-Hee. “Young-Hwan grew up, went to college, and became the vice-president of his parents company. Suddenly he got the power to be a bully on a much larger level. He began to aggressively shove out other textile companies with backhanded tactics, frivolous law suits, and even outright intimidation. Thanks to his tenacity, he made his company much more powerful and him much more above the law.”  

             The skull, softened from the boiling, finally gave way for a hole big enough for Min-Hee to fit her small hand in. She smiled as she felt the brain squish between her fingers.

             “But no one escapes forever.”

                                                            ********

             “Lee Young-Hwan?” repeated Detective Kim as he listened to Min-Hee talk. “Anyone got details on him?”

             A young addition to the force named Pak was typing away at the nearest computer and spoke without looking away from the screen.

          “Apparently Lee Young-Hwan is the heir to a multi-million textile fortune, known for his aggressive tactics and mostly worked behind the scene.”

           He pointed at the pictures the search engine had brought up. It was definitely him. Few of the pictures were posed, most were of him working on site somewhere or inside a courtroom, but the man in the official family photos with his elderly parents and wife exhibited the same face as the girl was eating.

         “It appears he has not been reported missing,” continued Pak who had just as quickly brought up the missing persons search. “He must have disappeared very recently. We’ll make sure to have his family contacted.”

         The reveal of the deceased name only brought more questions. How did this Min-Hee manage to get Mr. Young? Aren’t the rich usually surrounded by bodyguards? Did he have a habit of disappearing for a day or more at a time so often that no one went looking for him? Most importantly, where was the rest of his body?

        “I wonder,” he mumbled to himself before turning to the young cop again. “Have there been any reports of headless bodies showing up?”

        Pak did a quick search on the internal server and shook his head.

        “Nothing. But she is quite small and considering the short period of time he’s been missing, she most likely did not have time to dispose of the body.”

        “And her size suggests that she would have to break down the body into smaller parts to move it on her own, which would take some time,” said Detective Kim, finishing Pak’s train of thought.  “Unless she has an accomplice.”

        “She is quite famous, she just might.”

         Kim watched as Min-Hee started to cut through Young’s mouth. He had seen plenty of cadavers in his day, intact and in various parts, fresh, rotten, water-logged, dried under the sun, but this was on a whole new level. She was on a whole new level. Min-Hee appeared so normal. If he had ever passed her on the street, he would never imagine that she would be capable of killing and eating a human being. She had the appearance of a well-raised youth, a woman that just passed into adulthood, who would spend her time matching her clothes to her make-up, reading glossy magazines, and meeting with her friends over sweet deserts in trendy shops. The kind that would secretly binge sugary dramas and was a klutz in the kitchen but always aimed to improve. She would fret over her weight even though she barely gained any and worked in a flower shop run by a sweet, but nosy old lady.

         But this was definitely not her reality. Min-Hee existed somewhere much darker, much more accepting of violence and hate. She might indeed have been all the things he would’ve assumed, an existence of glittery eyeliner and bulbous flowers, but that was only what she projected. That was merely the skin she wore to blend in with society. She had filled up every crack and split with a brand new person and smoothed it over so perfectly that she would never appear as alien as she really was. Min-Hee was the true wolf in sheep’s clothing.

         Kim found himself staring deep at her face, looking for some sort of hint of bent nose or covered scar, something to give away the demonic personality that she hid, but there was nothing. She was perfect. Her eyes projected nothing but kindness even as she dislocated the jaw. Her lips curled playfully as if she was posing in photo booth. He was stunned by his complete inability to read her.

         The sharp ring of a cellphone broke him out of his trance. He had forgotten that his partner, Song, was still next to him. Song flipped his phone open and pressed into his ear.

         “Song,” he answered his phone sharply before responding to a series of phrases on the other end.

       “Okay…yes…yes…we’ll meet you downstairs. Goodbye.”

         He clicked his phone off and looked at Kim.

         “She’s been traced.”

         “You found her?”

             Song nodded and motioned Kim to follow him downstairs.

             “She’s not far, in Seoul actually. She streaming from a warehouse in Geumcheon District. We got a team ready to go. Hopefully she’ll stay live until we get there. “

             Their leather shoes slapped down the hallway as they dipped into a stairwell and quickly maneuvered to the underground garage. Four heavily armed officers stood in full SWAT uniform next to a SWAT van and a female officer sat behind the wheel of an official blue, yellow, and white police car. She stepped out of the car and opened the side doors for the two new arrivals.

             “Detective Kim, Officer Song,” she said with a bow. “I’m Officer Choi, I’ll be driving.”

             They returned the greeting and hopped in. With a flick of flashing lights, the two cars sped out of the garage and on to the road. Song pulled out his phone again and logged into Min-Hee’s live stream. She was still at it, this time peeling the skin off Young’s forehead. Song’s eyebrows flew up as he made a disgusted face.

             “It just keeps getting worse,” he said, surprising Kim with his openness. Kim had never seen anything shake his partner. “Can you imagine someone like this walking around in the world?”

             “It takes all kinds,” responded Kim as he reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. He shook a couple loose and handed one to Song before lighting his own.

 “Her though? That’s a surprise, it’s so rare to see women being so violent. They don’t really like getting messy. Usually when the corpse is damaged like that, it’s a man doing the damage. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was personal.”

             “Or she’s crazy,” added the driver before excusing herself.

             Kim laughed humorlessly and took a deep drag.

             “Or she’s crazy.”

             Kim looked out the window as the buildings and people flew by him. The sun had long begun to set, setting the clouds on fire and turning the farther cityscape into a dark cut-out clawing at the sky. He felt himself glancing at the faces in the crowd, trying to pick out the dark secrets these nameless citizens were hiding. Which one of that group of old ladies was secretly a war bride? Was that young business man actually embezzling money? Did that happy couple beat and insult each other behind closed doors? Kim had been in the business long enough to know that you can’t judge a person by their cover; that even the smallest mouse is capable of killing, but Min-Hee was such the perfect young woman. Almost too perfect. Just like camouflage.

                                                     ******

         Se-Yeon ripped open her cabinets and grabbed her box of cereal. Gripping it to her chest, she snatched a bowl of apples that was sitting on her counter and the rest of the rice in her fridge. She could feel the delicate band of her sanity stretch farther and farther, threatening to snap into a shudder of violent screaming, and the only thing that kept everything intact was the food in pressed against her body. Something about the whole thing seemed almost unfair to her.

          She had dieted while Min-Hee ate meals big enough for six people. She had counted her calories while Min-Hee gleefully ate three McDonald’s meals with an extra-large soda. She had run three miles every morning, bathed her face in acne cream, and busted her ass keeping her weight down while Min-Hee, well, Min-Hee ate a human fucking head with a smirk on her face. She was insulting Se-Yeon, insulting all the work that she had put into herself as if to say ‘you’ll never be as perfect as me, you’ll never be this free.’

         Se-Yeon was mad and ashamed and in response decided to eat everything in her house. She would watch the video to the bitter end, knowing that at least what she was eating was clean and pure, not like whatever Min-Hee kept putting her body.

        Se-Yeon pulled up to the low table and began to shove handfuls of cereal in her mouth as Min-Hee proceeded to talk.

        “Oh, it’s so warm,” said Min-Hee as she pulled out a glob of gray, cooked brain. “It feels like scrambled eggs.”

       She gingerly took a bite.

        “It tastes just like the rest of him, kind of porky, but way stronger. So like pork brains.”

        She slurped a clump of it into her mouth.

        “It’s not bad. I guess being rich really seasons the soft bits.”

 LifeisaBunnyman:

Ha ha, wonder if u can deep fry it?

         “Hmmm, maybe I’ll try it next time,” responded Min-Hee.

 LifeisaBunnyman:

I was kidding!

          Min-Hee smiled and shrugged before continuing her story.

          “Where was I? Oh yes. So Young-Hwan started to shove out the competition of other companies. Didn’t matter who they were. Big, small, it was all a threat to him. Or, most likely, he enjoyed the power. One day, he decides that a small, family owned textile business was in his way and demanded that they sell to him. Of course, they said no. What he had offered them was much smaller than what the company earned and would put the family in the poor house. They turned him away but Young wouldn’t take no for answer.”

         She stuck her hand back in to the skull and pulled out another handful of gray matter. As she did, Se-Yeon bit off a chunk of apple and chewed it noisily as she watched.

       “The family was very small, consisting of a mother, father, grandmother, and a daughter. A couple of weeks after Young-Hwan visits, the father disappears. The mother, of course, contacts the police but they’re no help at all, saying that he most likely ran away from creditors or his family or any other millions of reasons that fathers run away. They said they would look, but they didn’t. The mother was now all alone.”

         Min-Hee had driven her nails into the remaining skin on the skull, an expression of hate crossing her face as she licked Young-Hwan’s brains off her other fingers.

        “One day, Young-Hwan and three of his cronies knock on the woman’s door. They came in, feigning sadness about her missing husband, and offered to buy up her company to release her from the burden of ‘man’s work.’ At first she refused until Young-Hwan warned her that it would be a shame if something happened to her daughter as well. Apparently little girls disappeared off the streets of Korea all the time, only to reappear years later in a Chinese whorehouse, not knowing anything but sucking cock for food. The woman relinquished the company then and there. She received five million won, a pittance that lasted only to the end of the month, and the family fell into poverty.”

         “The mother had started working at a laundry mat, working long hours for small pay and was completely heart broken by her husband’s disappearance. She began drinking as a way to cope and one day drank herself to death. Her daughter found her body still curled around a bottle; she was only twelve years old.”

        Se-Yeon felt herself tear-up at Min-Hee’s story. It wasn’t subtle, she was clearly talking about herself. Se-Yeon responded by eating a handful of cereal to choke back her tears.

 liu_dai:

can’t belive I’m still watching

         At this point, Min-Hee began tear apart what was left of the head and face, revealing more and more of the skull underneath. It was an odd sight, watching a person go from face to muscle to skull, like the layers of an onion. Min-Hee pulled out the remaining eyeball and squished it between her fingers like a grape.

          “It was then and there that the little girl decided to get revenge. She knew she was too small and had to focus on being a smart woman before she could do anything, but the moment would come and when she was 19, it did. Turned out Young-Hwan had a thing for collecting mistresses, especially young ones with big eyes and pink lips.”

                                                       ******

        “Kim, I think she’s reaching the end of her broadcast,” said Officer Song as they turned a sharp corner. The KNP SWAT team sirens were hot on their heels.

       “How far are we?” Kim asked the driver.

       “Almost there, she won’t get away.”

        She added the last part with a satisfied smirk.

        Song watched Min-Hee monologue into a scoop of brains with a nervous anticipation. He was running all the possible outcomes in his head, from Min-Hee following instructions and immediately giving herself up to her pulling out a gun or a knife and dying in a hail of bullets. No one can really predict how a criminal would act under pressure, but he was hoping that the SWAT team would not have to use their weapons. Or in the very least, he hoped that she was alone. One woman would be no match, but she could have a dozen people hiding just off camera. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she did; nothing about this case had been making any sense. He started playing with his ring again, feeling the smooth metal spin around his finger.

        “There it is,” pointed Choi to a warehouse that had just appeared in their line of sight. “That’s where she’s streaming from.”

       It was a small, one story warehouse that seemed to have been abandoned for a long time. Several windows had been busted out and weeds grew through the cracks in the cement. The building didn’t look like it could house a large company, maybe something family owned or with a limited product release.

        They pulled up the building and immediately piled out of their cars. Kim took in the visage in front of him, his hand resting on his issued gun. There was no indication of what the interior could contain, the warehouse sat as silent as the area around it.

        Kim and Song got on both sides of the main door, guns drawn, while the SWAT team emerged carrying a small, one person battering ram. The doors to the warehouse were old and wooden; easy for one strong armed officer to knock down. The detectives exchanged nods as Kim held up three fingers at the team.

         Three, two, one…

                                                       ******

          “There’s really not much left, is there?” said Min-Hee, holding the skinned skull.

          She had ripped off the nose with a sharp swipe of her knife and had blown into the holes, clearing chunks of meat that she shook out from the top of the skull. His ears had been laid off to the side with his jaw and she looked soulfully at was left of Young-Hwan as she continued.

         “The little girl grew up and started following Young-Hwan around. She went to all his favorite restaurants and bars until he noticed her. That’s how she had become his mistress. That’s how she got him alone.”

         She sighed and smiled into the camera.

        “That’s how she killed him.”

        Se-Yeon could feel her abdominal fighting her as she kept shoving food into her stomach. Min-Hee was smiling so benignly, like she had no care in the world, that Se-Yeon could feel herself tearing up. She bit her lip to keep herself from crying out loud. She looked at her own mess, the half-eaten apples, the spilled box of cereal, the empty bowls of rice and felt nothing but emptiness. No, that wasn’t quite right. She felt something, something close to pettiness. Suddenly, her diet seemed so pointless, her fears so minimal.

        Min-Hee had eaten her hate, her nightmares. She had become the stuff of mythology, the wild woman who had destroyed those that had threatened her. Maybe she wasn’t a crow in human flesh, maybe she was the dove, eating the worlds sin and telling everyone it’ll be okay. Min-Hee was taking her life back. Se-Yeon had suddenly become so envious, she burst into tears.

        Somewhere, she was sure she heard a man call Min-Hee’s name and the faint accusation of murder.

                                                                ******

           The door splintered after a couple of blows and let in the glow from the setting sun. Dead set in the middle of the warehouse was a bright computer screen on a desk with a large chair in front of it. The back of the chair faced Kim and his team who quickly filed in through the broken entry way. The table was wider than the chair and Kim could see some sort of tools scattered on the counter top.

         “Min-Hee! This is the police!” shouted Kim, his gun gripped in both hands. There was no movement from the chair.

         Aside from the glow of the computer screen, the rest of building was shrouded in dark shadows. Aging machines sat rusted against the walls and a fine layer of dust covered everything in the room. Kim motioned for the SWAT team to split up in case there were other people hidden in the corners.

        “Min-Hee! I repeat, this is the police!”

         Once again, there was no movement, just the continued flickering of the screen. She’s cocky, he thought, but she won’t get away. He and Song walked slowly towards the chair.

         “Min-Hee, get up, you’re under arrest for murder,” he ordered.

         Still nothing.

         As they approached the set-up, they could finally make out what was on the screen. It was Min-Hee, talking and holding up the well picked skull of Young-Hwan.

        “And that’s how she killed him,” said the Min-Hee in the stream.

                                                    ******

         A surprised look crossed Min-Hee’s face as a hand slowly crept over the stream and moved in front of the camera. It was thick, heavy with work, and wearing a gold ring on its middle finger with an inscription of an officer’s name and a “thank you for your work.” Min-Hee’s face was partly obscured by the large thumb, hiding her eyes and nose, but a clearly visible smile crept across her face.

         “Well well, if it isn’t the police,” she cooed. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to show up.”

                                                      ******

        “Min-Hee?” asked Song, grabbing the chair. He looked down at the chairs occupant and turned away in disgust.

         Instead of a young, perky girl eating a human head sat the decapitated naked, aged corpse of Young-Hwan. The screen flickered morbidly on the limp body as Min-Hee smiled in her broadcast. The various tools that Kim had spotted were not for eating, but for torture. Pliers, hammers, scissors, everything that could be used to torture a man was there, coated in dry blood and viscera. The body itself seemed severely damaged, indicating that Young-Hwan was tortured for quite a while before he was killed. His tongue was left behind as well, hammered to the table like a piece of wood. But it wasn’t just the headless corpse that had thrown him for a loop, it was what she had placed in its stead.

         Kim instantly bit his knuckle.

         On top of the bloody stump of a neck sat a web cam that pointed towards Min-Hee’s stream on the computer. Kim carefully waved his hand in front of the camera and saw it mirrored on the screen in front of him.

          “Well well, if it isn’t the police. I was wondering how long it would take for you to show up.”

          Kim stared blankly at the screen as Min-Hee smiled cleverly at her pursuers.

         “I hope tracing my web camera wasn’t too much of a hassle. As you can obviously guess, I couldn’t afford to have you actually find me, so I took some precautions. Don’t worry, you just made it in time to watch me sign off.”

         She stuck her fingers into Young-Hwan’s eye sockets and wiggled them, a giggle escaping from her lips.

         “Such a useless man,” she laughed. “Well, I’m guess I’m done here. I’ve really made a huge mess! I know this was very hard to watch but I want to thank everyone who has stayed with me. I really appreciate it. Also, a big thanks to the police for working so hard to catch me.”

        Kim cursed under his breath and turned away.

        Se-Yeon continued crying, her tears pouring into her mouth as she kicked the ground.

       “But you know what they say, the first one is always the hardest.”

       With a wink and a peace sign, she bowed her goodbyes.

       “Thank you for watching! Until next time.”

         And all across the world, screens went dark.

[garynsmith]

The Cost of Being An Agent: What You MUST Include In Your Real Estate Marketing Budget (Plus Free Download!)

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There’s no shortage of advice about how you should be spending your real estate marketing budget. But it’s simply not possible to put your dollars towards all of these resources.

FREE DOWNLOAD: The 3 Marketing Tools Every Agent Needs!

We all deal with limited budgets on top of limited time, so today we’re going to explore the top 3 marketing tools every agent must have in their arsenal for success.

Before you read on, do a little brainstorming yourself.

Estimate your monthly real estate marketing budget and then answer this question:

If you could only invest in 3 marketing tools to grow your business, what would they be?

.

..

…

Have your answers?

Then it’s time to read on!

So, whether your monthly real estate marketing budget is $50 or $500…

Here are the top 3 marketing tool MUST-HAVES for any real estate marketing budget.

Let’s go!

Facebook Ads

One of the most powerful lead generation tools currently available for real estate agents is:

Facebook ads.

NOT posting to your business page.

NOT boosting your posts to get social engagement.

But going into the Ads Manager, and creating targeted conversion ads to generate real leads. Here’s an example:

Facebook gives you powerful targeting options like “likely to move” and “house hunting” that allow you to put relevant ads in front of people who are actively interested in buying or selling real estate.

If you’re not using Facebook ads to get more leads online, you’re missing a huge opportunity!

How much you invest in Facebook retargeting ads and campaigns is up to you, but no matter your budget this needs to be one of your top strategies.

  Plus, the more you refine your ad and audience specifications, the less money you’ll need to invest each time to get leads.

Do you know how much it costs per view on one Facebook video ad?

$.02

TWO CENTS!

Yup, for two pennies someone will view your video, see your face, and now know what you can do for them.

Email Marketing

If you haven’t already, it’s time to invest in email marketing.

You need to start sending value-driven email sequences.

It’s common for agents to use the emails tools provided by their brokerage to send leads updated lists of homes.

But does that equal value?

NO.

Your prospects can literally access that information anywhere.

And they probably are.

So, your email just becomes more junk clogging up their inbox.

Your emails, like your social and blog content, should set you apart from the competition.

To do this, you need to deliver in-depth knowledge about your local market.

Because this is the stuff that Zillow or any other large portal won’t have access to.

This is what distinguishes you as the neighborhood expert.

Sending regular emails that link to valuable and interesting content is one of the best ways to establish authority and build trust with leads over time.

Here is a list of ideas for your drip sequences:

Real Estate Email Blast Ideas

New Restaurant Reviews

Neighborhood Reviews

New Listings

Open House Schedules

Big Personal Family Events (Kids, etc)

Big Town Events

FREE DOWNLOAD: The 3 Marketing Tools Every Agent Needs!

So, what email marketing tool should you use to create this value?

We did a full review of 6 of our favorites: 6 Real Estate Email Marketing Tools To Grow Your Production.

Our top recommendation to start out is Mailchimp.

When it comes to automating a few emails, Mailchimp is simply the easiest platform to use. And you’ll most likely fall into their free plan.

The best part about using Mailchimp is probably their drag-and-drop design platform. You’re simply able to create great looking emails in just seconds.

Here’s what it looks like:

You’re also able to create really easy drip sequences with Mailchimp. Look at this menu for their automation program:

Overall, it should be really easy to integrate Mailchimp with your real estate marketing programs.  You can put people on to automated paths when they signup on your website. Or you can manually move people around.

The nice thing with Mailchimp is that it has a lot of integrations. You can use them if you have a LeadSite. Or if you just have some landing pages. Almost every type of online lead capture integrates with their platform.

Here’s how to use Mailchimp with our Paths App

  Webhosting

Finally, you MUST have a website!

You have to invest in a website to secure your future success.

And not just any site…

A kick-ass site that will attract traffic and get you qualified leads.

  No matter what your real estate marketing budget is, this has to be a priority.

Otherwise, what good are the other tools?

All the social proof and traction you build on Facebook and leads you capture via email are worthless if you’ve got nowhere to send them.

Now, without any offense intended, the site your brokerage provides is likely to be generic at best.

Generic does not get leads.

The design will be out of date and most likely lack the smart marketing tools that actually get you leads through your real estate website.

Your site needs tools like:

Landing pages

Pop-Ups

Blogging

Social Share Shortcuts

Automatic Text Message Followup

Smart Contact Forms

If your website isn’t equipped with these lead-generating tools, you’re already falling behind.

FREE Ways To Boost Your Rep And Get More Referrals

Once you’ve got these necessary tools locked into your real estate marketing budget, you can pad your resources with lots of free activities to increase your credibility and land more referrals.

Here are 4 tips from our main man, Tyler Zey, to build credibility in your niche for FREE!

1. Learn The Market

It’s really important to understand everything there is to know about your real estate market. Sure, you can fake it to a certain point. But eventually lack of cold-hard knowledge will get to you. You can do this by reading articles, keeping up with local news, watching trends in similar cities, and most importantly writing. Why writing you ask? Because it’s easy to ‘think’ you know something. But when you have to write about it, you gain a completely different level of understanding. Plus, you’ll have a blog that proves your knowledge to anyone online. The the perfect win-win!

2. Find Your Opening

After several weeks of reading, you’ll start to find an opening or niche in the market.  This could be a specific area, neighborhood, type of property, or anything really.  The key here is to find something you love. And then pursue it with everything you know. My biggest mistake is always trying to go to wide with my opening. You really should try to pick an opening that is smaller than you are comfortable with.

3. Make Connections

Next, find the top influential people in that area. Make a list of 50 of them and start getting their contact information. Then, take them out for coffee and follow up with them similar to the 33 touch system. Finally add them on LinkedIn and other social networks. Make these people realize your expertise in the area!

4. Be Everywhere People Look

Finally, the internet is full of information. There are tons of places to look for answers to your questions.  But there is one key feature. Most neighborhoods or cities have a very specific areas where they post. You can find them through simple Google searches.  For example, if you find people in your city posting on Yelp. Go to Yelp and start a few posts.

Keeping your eyes peeled and posting useful information is a great way to outshine other Realtors everywhere. You can easily become a dominate player in the market and be trusted by many people through just a few posts a week.

Check out Tyler’s full guide to Outshine The Competition: Real Estate Marketing With Zero Budget.

Are you a LeadSite user? Join our Facebook group to connect with agents like you. You can also post your questions there and you might just see one answered on EAP TV!

FREE DOWNLOAD: The 3 Marketing Tools Every Agent Needs!

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