#please help regulate guns

[olliev3r]

currently on lockdown because there was a shooter threat and then a fuse blew in the secondary building

[kitten4sannie]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝟏 - 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐞

pairing: mafia! ot8 x undercover officer! reader (fem)

genre: mafia/organized crime au, drama, angst

w.c: 3.3k

ch. summary: after countless months of preparation and ensuing anxiety, you finally revisit the infamous Black Pirates, but from the other side of the law, and it’s almost as if you’ve never left.

ch. warnings: not too many….uhhh very light depictions of violence, a bit of blood, a bit of manhandling (not the sexy kind), mingi is unhinged (?) and has a gun lmao, no smut this time but just you waittttt

a/n: hi thereeeee i cannot tell you how excited i am to share this with you all 🥹 this is my first mini series and i’ve never tackled anything this big before so please be patient with me when it comes to updates~~ (also this chapter will be the shortest of them all given it’s the intro hehe) but aaaaaaa i’m so happy we can go on this journey together >w< now sit back, relax, and enjoy ~ and if you like, please pleasee share your thoughts and feedback with me <33

song rec: scene 1 - value ~ ateez, concrete jungle ~ bad omens

fic masterlist

“Are you ready for this?” 

All you could hear was your heart thumping inside your ears, unable to focus on your Commander in Chief’s loaded question, tuning into the sounds of keyboard tapping and faceless chattering about the current crimes and cases that were plugging up the figurative drain of your local prescient, rather than what he was saying to you. Were you ready to infiltrate one of the most prevalent crime families your law enforcement agency has come to know and loathe over the better part of the year? Not as their friend, but this time, as an enemy? They had half your city in the palm of their hands and were itching to take it over, pushing the drug and gun trade into overdrive, washing countless loads of dirty dollar bills, and in turn, leaving you and your agency to clean up the mess they left behind — and what a mess they always made. Bullets, bodies, and broken dreams. Crime and punishment. Officers, regulations, and yellow tape. An endless game of chess that nobody ever seemed to win. The perpetrators of this game, their faces never left your mind, etching their likeness inside the grooves of your memory even after being away from them all for so long, at least, until now — if you stopped being such a goddamn pussy and answered your boss. 

“Y/N…? You can back out if you need to…” He gave you an apologetic smile. “Given your history, I know it might be a lot on you. We can always put somebody else in instead.” 

“No..!” you suddenly protested, bringing a closed fist near your mouth as you forcefully cleared your throat. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve been preparing myself for this since you helped me…change course and join the academy.” Realizing you were digging your nails into your palms, you relaxed your grip, leaving red idents behind. “And, of course, when we realized what the Kim Estate was actually doing behind closed doors.”

“It certainly wasn’t tennis,” the seasoned man chuckled softly, leaning back slightly inside his fraying office chair, rubbing at his eyes from underneath his reading glasses, not aware of how prominent his eye bags were becoming. He let out a small sigh. “Y/N, I have a lot of trust in you. Going back into that world as an undercover operative is not a walk in the park under any circumstances, but this…they have proven to be unpredictable. I’ll ask you once more. Are you sure you can handle this case?” 

In all honesty, you were never too sure what you could handle, both in your professional and personal life, but the uncertainty never stopped you from diving in headfirst. And this, this case, being one of the dominos that would knock them all down, well…it was simply too delicious to pass up. 

You stood up, bowing your head to your superior, before giving him a knowing nod. “I’m ready, sir.” 

-

Your closest friend back in your police academy days and fellow undercover partner, Yeonjun, was the first person you spotted upon exiting your boss’ office, well, specifically his bright red hair, slowly navigating past the maze of desks and whispering coworkers to make it over to him, privy to the looks some of them gave you as you slipped past them — though it didn’t phase you anymore. Your past did not define you. At least, that’s what your therapist had been telling you the past few years. 

“Hey, partner,” Yeonjun greeted you with a smile, reaching out to hand you a paper cup full of freshly steeped coffee, leaning back to sit down on the crowded surface of his desk. “Tomorrow’s the big day. You ready?” 

You took the steaming cup, your jaw tensing as the bitter liquid hit your tastebuds. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Choi.” You always thought of someone else when you uttered that surname. He was the complete opposite of your partner here: calm and collected, soulless when he wanted to be and full of love the very next moment, erratically ticking between the two like a malfunctioning metronome. You hated him for it. 

“Hey, it’s just Yeon, now. Come tomorrow, I won’t be my normal sexy self.” He pulled his freshly printed fake ID out of his t-shirt pocket and held it up to your face, replicating the toothy smile he had inside the picture. “Well, still sexy, yeah?” 

Chuckling, you leaned in, studying the fake ID, impressed by how real it looked. “Very sexy, Yeon, but remind me why you dyed your hair red? Is it the quarter life crisis settling in?” 

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, tucking his ID back into his pocket. “Ha-ha, funny. I just thought I should look the part if I’m going in as some renowned hacker.” 

You pushed a few files out of the way to lean against Yeonjun’s desk beside him. “Have you been studying up on your skills then?” 

“Of course, I have. I know I joke around a lot, but I’ve  dedicated my life to this, Y/N…” 

You looked down at Yeonjun’s hand, the one that rested on the desk in between you, his fingers drumming against the surface. “Good, because they don’t play around…”

The drumming stopped. Yeonjun turned his head to look at you, a flicker of light inside his brown eyes, like he was trying to understand you. “Do you…ever think about your life before the academy? Before this? Do you wish you could go back?” 

You bit into your lip, gazing past Yeonjun’s hand at one of the files that contained information about the very people you would be betraying. “I…just want to be good. Do what’s right…That’s why I left all of that. It’s why I’m here now.” 

He leaned over slightly until his shoulder pressed into yours, using his pinky to nudge at yours. “Not many would do what you’ve done, y’know. Giving up their way of life for something like this.” 

You nudged back, staring into the half empty cup of coffee you were still holding onto. “Not many people are this stupid.” 

“Not stupid.” Yeonjun pretended to clink his empty paper cup against yours, giving you a soft smile. “Brave. You’re the key component of this entire operation, Y/N. That’s huge. You’ll make a difference. Isn’t that what this is all about?” 

“Maybe…you’re right,” you replied softly, once again distracted by the folder from before, the one that was slightly open just enough to reveal the image of a man with slick back hair, dressed in quaint Victorian style clothes, with a big bow wrapped around his neck. Kim Hongjoong, owner of the Kim Estate and leader of the Black Pirate Organization. You knew him all too well, and all his closest cohorts. Would they recognize you? You hadn’t seen them since you were a young girl, forgotten by most and lost inside a system that didn’t care about you, except for the ambitious young man that swore he would one day be sat atop his ivory tower with those that followed his path. And now there he was, living the high life inside his big shiny mansion, sipping on fine wine, while you were still forcing down bitter instant coffee day after day, surrounded by people that looked at you, but never really saw you for what you were, whatever that was. Maybe Hongjoong knew. 

“Y/N…? You’re staring off into space again…” Yeonjun whispered near you, getting up from the desk once you came back to Earth. “Anyways, it’s late, and we have a lot to do tomorrow. We should get going.” 

“You’re right, we need as much rest as we can get.” You stretched out your legs before standing back up, just now noticing that you were the only two left inside the workspace, the light from your Chief’s office still peeking out past the dusty blinds. Maybe your Chief knew. 

Packing up your briefcase, you smiled at Yeonjun. “Should I dye my hair too?” 

Yeonjun pouted, resting his own briefcase against his hip. “That’s my thing.” 

-

Particles of dust and dirt filled your lungs, joining the blood that you began to choke on. It hurt to breathe, but your body carried on supplying oxygen to your lungs, not giving you a choice in the matter. You rolled over onto your back to face the night sky, your teary eyes focusing on the twinkling stars and the bright blue moon that loomed over the town, storm clouds rolling past until they blocked out the pretty view. Heavy rain began to pour down, soaking you to the bone. Even though you were losing the will to live, you still held onto the silver pair of scissors that you used to prove a point, even though it might’ve cost you your life. That was still something. However, your dear mentor still stood over you, his neck being clutched tightly by his trembling fingers, crimson slowly slipping past them. 

“See what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you? Ungrateful brat,” he choked out in between shallow breaths. Frustrated, he let out a gurgled growl, tossing his bloodied shank onto the dirt road beside his feet. You could’ve sworn you saw tears slip down his flushed cheeks, but then again, it was raining. “I didn’t want to do this…but you gave me no choice.” 

His closest companion took a step forward to securely grasp his upper arm, urging him, “Sir, we need to get you to the nearest hideout. I won’t let you bleed out like this.” 

The disheveled man’s other trusted subordinate placed a gloved hand on one of his shoulders, squeezing into it with urgency. He surveyed you past his foggy glasses, pushing them up the slope of his nose. His eyes were once filled with a sense of endearment when he looked at you, but now, they held contempt. “She made her decision, sir.” 

The struggling leader turned his head to look back and forth between his dear followers, then at his men who all waited behind them, their rain-streaked faces contorted with conflicted apprehension. They stood perfectly still like statues, until the all too familiar sound of sirens rang out in the distance. That’s when they all scattered, like rats, escaping from the flashing lights and disappearing into the dark of the night.  

Your soon to be killer was the last one to leave, looming over you as though he was Death himself, beads of rain, sweat, and blood dripping from his chin and down onto your face below. “Just one question, darling…” He held his neck tighter than before, growing dizzier from all the blood loss. “Why?” 

A small, self-satisfied laugh painfully bellowed from your chest, causing you to grab at your stomach where it had been sliced into. “The blade cuts both ways, sir. I was just following your lead…” You weakly lifted your hand up in the air, as though you wanted to reach him, but simply couldn’t. “Why aren’t you proud of the monster you created?” 

The man began to beam at you, but the corner of his lips stretched to an unfathomable degree, as though he had carved a smile into his own face. He lifted his chin up just enough to rid himself of the shadow that was cast over him, his brown eyes now void of anything, simply black. Soulless. “Oh, darling…the monster was always there. I simply dug it up.” 

You suddenly woke up and sat upright in your bed, your entire body covered in a layer of sweat, leading you to desperately kick off the comforter that had trapped you inside the sweltering heat. Upon realizing you were no longer caught inside a warped memory from your adolescence, you looked down at your stomach, lifting up the edge of your shirt to see if your scar was still there, sighing softly when you saw the jagged patch of skin. 

Your past doesn't define you. He doesn't define you — none of them do. And, now, you had the opportunity to create your own definition, and get a little revenge while you were at it. 

-

“Do we ring the doorbell…?” Yeonjun asked from beside you, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, getting a bit dizzy from trying to take in all of the glory of the Kim Estate. 

You were too busy studying the faded stains of blood left on the stone floor below to notice how out of character Yeonjun was already behaving, not that you could blame him. A similar prick of anxiety was already embedding itself into your mind, but you waved it away as soon as it made itself present. “We may be entering a lion’s den, but we won’t behave like them. I’ll knock.” 

Yeonjun nodded swiftly, clutching the handle of his messenger bag tightly inside his sweaty hand. “Hopefully they don’t eat us alive.” 

You gently pushed a few strands of hair behind your ear, making sure you didn’t disturb the positioning of the micro earpiece that was sitting just behind your tragus. “They won’t, as long as we prove our worth.” 

You grabbed onto the obnoxious ivory door knocker, and just as you were about to make your presence known, you found yourself being yanked into the mansion by someone much bigger than you, Yeonjun’s squeaks of protest becoming background noise as soon as the man slammed you against the nearest wall. What felt to be the cold barrel of a compact handgun pressed up into the bottom of your chin with a click, your assailant’s focused, deep-set eyes boring into your own. “Is this how you welcome all your guests?”

“Not all of them…some I leave dead on the doorstep before they can even get a chance to beg on their knees,” the man muttered in a distinctly gravelly voice, a small chuckle bubbling out of his throat. Usually, the people he dealt with would be pissing themselves at this point, but it just seemed to be another day for this strangely familiar visitor. 

You could almost see your partner out of the corner of your eye, already on his own knees, his distinctively red hair being held onto by a nameless man in a 3-hole knit balaclava. It was then that you angled your head up slightly to get a good look at your old friend, feeling the barrel push harder into your skin. “Every guard dog has to have their fun, right? And, if you blew my head off now, well, where’s the fun in that?” 

“You’re right, doll.” The tall man’s plump lips quirked up into a smirk, slowly dragging his gun past your chin, down your neck, and along the softest parts of your body, poking and prodding at you in an attempt to humiliate you. “Should I see how many new holes I can give you? Fill them all with hot lead?” 

“At least buy me a drink first,” you said through gritted teeth, trying not to show any discomfort when he pushed the loaded gun roughly into your abdomen, directly into your scar, not that he could’ve known it was there. 

He seemed to enjoy your pained response, leaning his head back to let out a sudden laugh, one that was short and abrupt like a bark. “You’re one crazy bitch…” The man licked over his plump lips. “I like that.” 

It was just then that somebody else entered the foyer, their presence so distinctly powerful, the lot of you couldn’t help but notice before he even stepped foot in the room. “Is that any way to treat a valued guest, Mingi? I thought I trained you better than that.” 

Mingi immediately de-cocked the gun and brought it behind his back, tucking it away inside the waistline of his tailored pants. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Seonghwa patted Mingi’s shoulder with a gloved hand, giving him a small nod of understanding, before turning his attention to you and Yeonjun, the both of you cautiously standing with your backs against the paneled wall. “I do apologize for my guard dog. We try to keep him on a tight leash, but sometimes…he gets loose.” His shifting eyes formed half crescents. “You understand.” 

Yeonjun glanced over at you for guidance, and you responded with a small smile, before nodding your head obediently at Seonghwa’s words, Yeonjun following your lead. “It’s not a problem.” 

Seonghwa clasped his hands together, shaking his head slightly, a strand or two of raven hair falling past his forehead from where the rest of it sat perfectly still. He couldn’t seem to understand why he was experiencing a bout of deja vu. “Where are my manners?” He pressed his palm into his chest, and gave a small bow. “I’m Park Seonghwa, the second in command, if you will, here at the Kim Estate.” 

Yeonjun bowed back instantly, pushing his dyed hair behind his ears as he stood up straight. “My name’s Yeon. That’s what I go by online.” 

Seonghwa’s eyebrows raised up slightly. “Ah, I know you.” He chuckled to himself, glad that he was able to pinpoint the air of familiarity, but still annoyed that something wasn’t quite right. “You’re that hacker that’s going around and fucking with the local government, aren’t you?” 

Yeonjun was glad he didn’t eat too much that morning, otherwise he would’ve already thrown it up by now. He brought a peace sign up to his face and smiled. “That’s me, professional shit-stirrer at your service.” 

As more men began to trickle into the foyer to see what all the commotion was about, Seonghwa slowly turned his attention back to you, the true object of his frustration. It’s like he had seen you many times before, in a dream, perhaps? In the casino they ran behind closed doors? Or maybe you were one of the many playthings that were brought in to appease the voracious appetites of his degenerate cohorts. Either way, Seonghwa both loved and loathed the way you were already inside his mind, like you had already lived there, and your existence had simply been unearthed by the sands of time. 

“And, you are…?” he asked in a slow, calculated manner, his head tilting to the side. 

“I’m a diamond expert,” you explained vaguely, motioning to the large suitcase of supplies you were holding. “I can see the value of most things from a mile away, much like your dear leader.” 

Hongjoong was already aware of your arrival. You could feel it in your bones. 

Seonghwa brought a closed fist to his chin, nodding at your words, still not completely sure why he felt so uncomfortable. “But, who are you?” 

Your bubbling amusement was starting to rush to the surface, unable to keep yourself from smiling. And, just like that, you reunited with your dear mentor, except on opposite sides of the chess board. You were delighted everyone was there to witness the beginnings of your awaited rematch. “Why don’t you ask him? I think he’ll have an idea of who I am,” you replied giddily, prompting you to motion your head to the man that stood above the rest of you. 

You felt something stir within the men that looked at you, as though what had been hidden for so long had finally come to light. You weren’t a ghost, much to their surprise — well, at least, not yet. You were, of course, taking a gamble with your life, and your partner’s as well, but risks were meant to be taken, rules were meant to be broken, and strings were meant to be cut.

As though right on time, Hongjoong dug his nails into the mahogany railing of the expansive landing, his free hand unconsciously adjusting the bow that was wrapped securely around his neck. He understood the most out of all them. Value. You looked up to him, moving your fingers as though you were using a pair of scissors. 

“Remember now?” 

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Couldddd you please write something with hiromi?? I'd appreciate itttt so muchh :)

At Law

Tags: Hiromi Higuruma x fem!Reader, modern!au, nsfw, mdni, academic rivals, enemies to lovers, hate fucking, unhinged!hiromi, depictions of violence including murder

Synopsis: Being the state’s district attorney was your dream job. After years of law school and hard work, you were finally appointed the job and allowed to represent the state in court. You singlehandedly decided which cases to prosecute and who to bring to justice. When your old academic rival, Hiromi, shows up as a defense attorney in court one evening, you know he’s going to give you a hard trial… and a hard fuck.

An: Anything for you nepobaby :)) Hope you enjoy this. I swear I'm going to make these shorter every time, but then, I start writing and literally can't stop.

You two have been chasing each other for the longest time.

It started in law school. You don't exactly remember how it happened, but slowly over time, you and Hiromi began playing your little academic race.

Both of you were brilliant, quick, and determined. Honestly, you two were like a professor's dream to have.

You found yourself studying longer, committing to all-nighters just to read over several codes of law and past cases in the court. All of it just to score a little bit higher than him on a test.

But dammit, he was faster than you when answering questions the professor proposes. His photographic memory serves him well as he's able to distinctly remember what code a law comes from and where the code is at in the Code of Federal Regulations.

Don't even get me started on how mock trials went. The professor would actually have to stop pairing you two against each other because it would become so toxic and brutal between the two.

As law school progressed, the workload just got worse. The school expected you to complete assignments, study for the bar, and take on unpaid internships. You were a slave for your degree.

Hiromi wasn't immune to those types of pressures either, and as much as he hated to admit it, study partners help retain information better. It would help effectively consume the source material in half the time. Unfortunately, the rest of his peers were just so beneath him...

Well, besides you.

All-nighters weren't lonely anymore. You and Hiromi would drink enough caffeine to kill an elephant and go through weeks worth of content in a night.

"You know... the release of endorphins can help concentration and reduce stress, thus helping students study." Hiromi said one early morning.

It was around four a.m, and you two were covering the petty crimes section. To say it was incredibly boring was an understatement. Students like you and Hiromi would never represent or prosecute clients in petty crimes. You two were destined for so much more.

"What are you suggesting, Hiro?" You ask before a small yawn escapes your mouth. You hadn't even looked up from your book.

"I'm suggesting that we help each other by taking a quick break." He responds as he shoves the book away from your lap. Your surprised eyes look up at his tired ones, and he cups your cheeks before he leans down to kiss you.

You would walk into class sore the next day. As soon as the adrenaline from one round wore off, you two were gunning for the next.

Your study sessions continued on and so did your competitiveness.

When you scored one point higher than him on the bar, he hate fucked you until morning.

Then, he made it his mission to surpass you everywhere else too. Recruiters and attorneys personally from different law firms were ringing Hiromi's phone constantly.

You genuinely believed that he would take the calls on speakerphone just to fucking spite you. You could hear the lawyers on the phone praise him so highly, practically begging for him to come practice at their firm.

Of course, you were getting some recruitment opportunities too, but it was still somehow harder for women to find jobs in the criminal justice field than it was for men. You also hadn't been selling yourself to these firms as much as he was because you had your mind set on working for the state. You wanted to be a prosecutor for the district attorney.

The icing on the cake was when you two were having one of your "study breaks" (aka Hiromi had you bent over your bed, and he was delivering the deepest, most toe curling backshots known to man), and he took a phone call from the district attorney's office.

His hand covered your mouth as he continued to thrust roughly into you while the man on the phone offered Hiromi a job.

"Hm? Oh, thank you for the opportunity." He graciously spoke over the phone as he was absolutely bullying your insides. Your stomach coiled from anger and arousal. You fucking hated him so much. "I'm weighing out all of my options now, but I'll have an answer for you by the end of the week, sir."

After more pleasantries, he hung up the phone and bent over to where he could whisper in your hear. "Hear that, little dove? I'm getting job opportunities from the state while you're under me getting ruined."

"You know, I'll probably be too busy from here on out to play this childish games with you." Thrust. "That'll be too bad, won't it?" Thrust. "Can't say I'll miss you though." Thrust. "Maybe this pretty cunt, but that'll probably be it." Thrust. "Better make this last one count, shouldn't we?" Thrust.

Oh, and he made good on his word. Your entire body ached after he made you finish for the nth time that evening. "I'll see you around, little dove." He whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek and leaving your dorm.

He made good on his word about that too. He never returned to your dorm. Sure, you two were graduating in two days, but some small part of you thought he'd might come over for a celebration.

No, he left you behind. He left you behind. You lost.

The anger burned hot for a few months as you gathered barrings after law school, especially when you'd see his name in the papers.

Defense Attorney Higuruma gets a non-guilty verdict for alleged drug trafficker!

Higuruma sways jury in closing argument, providing the most gut-wrenching speech!

Higuruma, Higuruma, Higuruma.

He was a fucking sensation in the criminal justice field, and his name left a sour taste in your mouth.

The anger only started to subside once you landed your dream job after a long internship. You were finally a prosecutor in a major circuit court in the crimes division.

Hiromi's name finally fled from your brain as you started to flood the newspapers.

Prosecutor helps put away notorious serial killer for life.

Cartel drug lord behind bars after district attorney helps deliver a guilty verdict for over 32 charges.

You finally felt like you hadn't been left behind. You were living the life you wanted to live ever since you were little. Did you imagine you'd be married by now? Yeah, sure. You just... hadn't met the right one yet.

Dating was hard while maintaining a professional career. You had to be extremely choosey for one. It would be scandalous to see a prosecutor dating someone with a criminal record.

And the men were sweet, don't get me wrong. They'd take you on nice dates, write you pitiful love letters, and treat you like a princess... They were all so collectively boring, especially in bed.

You'd tell them! You'd give them incredibly detailed instruction to be rough and mean to you, but they'd always laugh and make some excuse for not wanting to hurt you. Ugh.

Maybe you were ruined by Hiromi... because the only thing that got you off nowadays was the thought of him whispering hateful words into your ear while pounding himself into you with little concern or remorse.

Slowly, the gifts would start appearing.

A bouquet of white roses sitting on your desk. Do you miss me, LD?

You thought it was a simple mistake or a sick prank from one of the criminals you help lock away. You would quietly dispose of the gifts until the slowly became more alarming.

Miss your sweet sounds, LD. An audio recording of you moaning on a tape recorder played.

Who are you trying to look nice for, LD? None of those men could treat you like I did. Pictures of you going out on a date.

I'll take care of them for you. Don't worry your pretty little head, LD. A dead dove.

This was enough to get a harassment and stalking charge, but you didn't want to concern the local police. For one, you knew how lousy the police were when it came to crimes like this from working alongside them. They were honestly an embarrassment. For two, you didn't want this getting out to the public because then copy cats would start up.

You tried investigating on your own, but you came up to a dead end every time. The way this person called you LD made your head spin. That's not even your initials, but the gifts were certainly intended for you.

The only refuge for you was when you were in a court room. You felt safe and protected. A stalker of this degree wouldn't be ballsy enough to confront you in a courtroom while you're surrounded by police and bailiffs constantly.

Your refuge was short-lived by catching a glimpse of a familiar face in court one evening.

He looked as handsome as he did in law school. Hiromi's tired eyes met yours, and he almost immediately cracked a smile as he approached you during recess.

"Well look at you, dove." He smiled as he looked down at you. Hiromi's dark hair laid messily on the top of his head, and he was wearing a full business suit that framed his body nicely. "I see the district attorney's office settled for the second best option after I turned them down. Good for them."

He was still as arrogant and competitive as ever, making your heart flutter like it did back in law school. "Very funny, Hiro." You roll your eyes as you stand to look up at him.

"It's all harmless jokes. I promise. I'm proud of you, really." He assures as his eyes wander your body for just a moment.

You're not use to his praise. Normally, you're not the type to enjoy it, but hearing those words made you clench around nothing as your stomach swirled with butterflies.

"Thanks... I've heard good things about you as well.." You murmur quietly, suddenly losing all your nerve. "So, are you representing someone?"

"I am. I didn't just come here to watch you for fun. Though, I would've had I known you were such a big shot." He nudges your arm gently, causing you to laugh softly. "I'm representing a young man charged with murder. I'm sure you heard about it. Big news all over the television."

"Who was the victim?" You ask as you flip through your case files. If this was a first setting, surely you wouldn't go to trial today, but the thought of going to trial against Hiromi made your heart pound with excitement. Not many lawyers gave you too much trouble during court, but Hiromi... he would be a good match.

"They can't identify the victim. Male, John Doe, early twenties. That's all the information the cops have." He explains, and you start skimming through the case file quickly. It's astonishing that the police made an arrest when there was hardly a body to work from.

"Huh." You muse quietly as you look through the crime scene photos and pictures of the defendant's hands covered in soot from a fire. The victim had been burned.

"I'll be making a motion to dismiss this case based on a lack of substantial evidence linking my defendant to the body. Just a heads up." He then winks at you and walks away from your bar as the judge comes back and sits on the bench.

It seems as though you and Hiromi will have one last back and forth like old times.

When his case gets called before the judge, Hiromi takes the pleasure in speaking first. His client is handcuffed, sitting down next to him. The defendant was young, maybe nineteen. The evidence supporting his conviction was weak, but it was still there. Convincing a jury to convict him will be tough, and that's if the judge doesn't dismiss the charges outright.

After a long, drawn out argument between you and Hiromi about the proponderance of evidence, the judge decides to not dismiss the case.

"In that case, your honor, we would like to request a hearing today." Hiromi speaks with such confidence as he stands before the judge.

"Your honor, the state hasn't had adequate time to prepare for a hearing, and this is first setting. We'd like to request a reset date to prepare our defense." You immediately follow up as you also stand up.

"Your honor, my client has been incarcerated for over twenty-five days for a charge that has flimsy evidence at best. He has a right to a speedy trial." Hiromi rebuttals.

"Enough. We'll have a trial today whether the state is ready to proceed or not." The judge decides. Wonderful.

The trial is as painful as you imagined it to be. The evidence is flimsy, and Hiromi is practically bullying the witnesses on the stand, and when it's your turn for redirect, he practically bullies you with objection after objection.

"And what did the police-"

"Objection hearsay." Hiromi stands from his chair and eyes you with that cold stare of his.

"Your honor, I haven't even finished my question without the defense counsel butting in." You argue to the judge.

"Overruled. Counsel, let her finish." The judge warns.

Your head is practically throbbing by the end of it. The jury deliberates for two hours before coming back with the sentence. You tried your hardest and made good work with what evidence you had.

"On the charge of first-degree murder, we the jury find the defendant... not guilty."

Dammit. Hiromi won once again.

"On the charge of abuse of a corpse, we the jury find the defendant... guilty. On the charge of tampering with physical evidence, we the jury find the defendant... guilty. On the charge of arson, we the jury find the defendant... guilty."

He didn't win.

"On these charges, I will impose a sentence of twenty-five years in the Fuchu Prison with the possibility of parole after ten years." The judge sentences before whacking his gavel down.

You let out an exhausting sigh as you slowly gather your things after court adjourns. Today was likely the hardest day in your career, and you can't help but think about that young nineteen-year-old who won't see freedom until he's twenty-nine.

Hiromi approaches you after the courtroom is completely empty.

"You seem tired, dove." He muses as he loosens his tie from around his neck. He'd never admit it, but you absolutely gave him a run for his money.

"It's not everyday someone gives me that much trouble in court." You softly laugh as you look up at him. You feel your cheeks warm as you realize how close he is to you.

"Yeah? Did it bring back old memories?" He steps closer as his hand slowly reaches up to cup your cheek.

"Hm? Of me winning our mock trials?" You ask with a cheeky grin, and his grip tightens a bit.

"I distinctly remember our record being 15-13 with me having 15 wins." He replies as he leans down to you. He remembers the score you two kept from back in law school?

"You must be still sore about me outscoring you on the bar if you kept up with our scores from mock trials."

"Mmm, quite the contrary actually, you've always been my favorite opponent, even if you piss me off." He replies as he leans down towards you and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss was full of everything you could ever imagine: heat, lust, a hint of resentment towards each other. Before you know it, you're pressed against the table as Hiromi's hands roam your body like he's in a frenzy.

"Hiro.." You moan as he kisses down your neck roughly biting on your flesh. "My office.." You whine, trying to get him to ease up on you just long enough so you two could get out of the courtroom.

"And if I say no, little dove?" He whispers in your ear as his hand slips underneath your dress with such ease. "You'd let me take you right here, wouldn't you?"

"Hiro~" You whine in a breathy tone as his fingers trace around your clit like they did so long ago.

"That's not an answer, little dove." He demands as he applies more pressure. "I asked if you'd let me fuck you on this bar until you forgot your own name."

"Yes-!" You gasp as his fingers skillfully play with your most sensitive area.

"That's what i figured. You were always such a slut back then too. Somethings never change, hm?" He muses as he goes back to sucking and kissing on your neck. His fingers tease near your entrance, but they slowly trail back up to your clit.

"You're lucky I respect you enough." He growls lowly before he removes his hand. "Lead the way to your office."

As soon as you two are behind closed doors in your modest office, clothes are being thrown onto the floor, moans and small whispers of sweet nothings were exchanged. You could quite literally feel your heartbeat fluttering deep inside your cunt.

He gently nudges you to lay down on the leather couch you had in your office for the late nights you spent reviewing evidence. Your skin connects with the soft leather as he gets between your legs. "I wonder if you still taste the same, little dove."

His tongue gently laps at you, and he immediately hums with satisfaction. "Somehow sweeter, actually." He answers his own question as flattens his tongue and licks you from entrance to clit, savoring your fluids of arousal on his tongue.

Your hands find his hair, and you gently tug on it as he helps himself to your wetness. He takes his time, lapping at you slowly while gently suckling on the small bundle of nerves. Sometimes you swear he's spelling his name into your cunt with his tongue before he shoves his tongue directly inside you, drinking your nectar straight from the source.

"H-hiro~!" You whimper as you try to shuffle your hips away. The stimulation was too much to handle.

"Don't try to run from me, little dove." He grunts as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you right back down onto his mouth.

His nose bumps into your clit as you subconsciously ride his face, searching for release. "Yeeahh, there we gooo. There's my little dove.. bein' such a slut." He coos as he buries his face deeper into your core.

His entire face is damp from your delicious juices. He's such a messy eater, getting it all over his chin and nose. His tired eyes flutter up to look at you as you're on the crux of your orgasm.

"Cum on my face, little dove. Let me have you." He instructs before lapping at your cunt like a starved man.

Your voice goes high pitched and breathy as you grab onto his hair tightly, forcing him in even more before you finish all over his mouth. He gratefully continues to run his tongue along your folds until your legs are trembling on his shoulders.

You softly pant as you relax into the couch. You hadn't had an orgasm like that in so long. You had almost forgotten how they feel.

Hiromi looks up at you with a confident smirk and an intoxicated gaze. "Seems like you missed me, little dove."

"Please, I only missed when you're too preoccupied to run your mouth." You retort with a grin.

"Is that so?" He questions as he pulls down his boxers, and his length springs up from the constraints of the fabric. You tug your bottom lip between your teeth as you're reminded of how big he is.

As if on muscle memory, you turn to get in doggy position because that was his and your position of choice back in college, but he grabs your thighs and prevents you from moving.

"Nuh uh. You're gonna look at me when I take you this time." He grins as he positions himself between your thighs. He fists his length a few times before slowly dragging his fat tip up and down your sopping wet folds, savoring the feeling with a small groan. "I wanna see the tears in your pretty eyes, little dove."

You're about to argue and protest about the tears part, but he's quick to shut you up by forcing his length into you all at once. Hiromi's not only long, but he's very girthy, stretching you so deliciously. White hot pain courses through you as your nails dig into the couch.

"Ah-! F-fuck!" You curse as you try to get use to his size.

"Mmm~ you're tight, dove. How long has it been for you, hm? Surely you've fucked someone since college, unless you've been hopelessly waiting for me." He grins as his hips are slow. He allows you the space to almost get use to him before he shoves into you aggressively, making you see stars.

"Ngh... p-probably like.. uh.. oh god, six months?" You answer as you stutter over your words. Your last hookup had ghosted you after you slept with him. Though, it didn't really bother you. He wasn't good in bed at all, and he called you crazy for asking him to be mean to you during the deed.

Hiromi simply smirks down at you, proud of himself for how fast he can make you a mess underneath him.

"Oh, you poor thing... hah.. No one can take care of this pussy like I can, hm?" He taunts as his hands grab ahold of your hips. His eyes are fixated on where you two are connects. He loves watching his length sink inside you.

Your warm wet entrance only serves to suck him in further, causing him to groan and continue his deep, ruthless pacing.

"N-no..." You're not even able to deny it to him and play hard to get. No one comes close to making you feel as good as he does.

His hips snap forward harshly, fucking you deeper into the black leather of the couch beneath you. Your entire body jolts with each rough thrust.

"Only I'm good for you, isn't that right little dove? You're mine, aren't you?" He asks as his hand reaches up and wraps around your throat, gently applying pressure. His eyes are now staring deeply into yours, waiting for an answer.

"Fuck, Hiro.." You whine, unable to commit to saying you're his. He applies a bit more pressure with his thumb and fingertips.

"I asked you a question." He grits as he slams back into you at a dizzying rate. "Are you mine?"

"Oh~ fuck.. I-" You can barely get a word out as he's ruthlessly abusing your little cunt. This was the roughness you had begged all those other guys for. "Yes-! God, fuck, yes." You cry as you feel your stomach clenching with the burning passion of another orgasm.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret because you're mine now, dove." He mumbles lowly as he leans closer towards you. His hips keep up with his rhythm as his face is close to your ear. "That guy you sent to prison today was innocent of all counts."

Your hands reach up and hold onto his back muscles as he's rutting deep inside of you, reaching new places with his new position.

"What-? Hiro... I don't.."

"You sent an innocent man to prison, little dove. Doesn't that bother you? You're sick just like me." He continues on, making you feel all confused.

"How... ah~ how do you know he's innocent?" You ask as your eyebrows furrow. Your hands search his back, and your legs wrap around him as if you're hugging him.

"Because I did it." He growls into your ear. "That pathetic excuse for a man wasn't good enough for you, LD."

Chills immediately shoot through your body from him calling you by those damn initials. LD. You cling to him for a moment, unsure of what to even feel or say. His hips continue to rut inside of you.

"What's the matter, little dove?"

LD. Little dove. You squeeze your eyes shut as you finally piece everything together. Your last hookup didn't disappear. Your stalker, Hiromi, took care of him just like he promised he would.

For some sick reason, your stomach continues to clench as he's rocking back and forth. Your eyes meet his.

"Hiro... that's so.." You can't get the words out before you're finishing all over his cock with a high-pitched squeal.

Hiromi grins wildly as he watches you come undone from your orgasm. "My little dove is just as sick as I am, isn't she?" He coos before he leans back up.

His hips starts to drill into you mercilessly, not giving you a chance to catch your breath or even think. "Oh, fuck!" He curses as he's chasing his high deep inside you. “Mmnph~ gonna cum inside you and really make you mine.” He coos as his hips start moving sloppily.

You know it’s so wrong and taboo, but you couldn’t help but feel your arousal start building again. He just confessed to you about a serious crime, yet your pussy was still soaked, making the most delicious plap! plap! plap! noises as he pounded into you.

“Fuuuuck~” He groans as you feel his thick length twitching inside of you as he spills deep into your womb.

For a moment, you’re completely speechless. Hiromi softly pants as he presses small kisses into your collarbones. “‘m sorry. I had to do it, dove. I couldn’t let him get close to you.” He murmurs quietly. “Only I get to hear your sweet sounds. No one knows you better than me.”

Taking a deep breath, you realize that if this ever gets brought to light, you and Hiromi are going down for life. You gently nuzzle your face into his neck. “Hiro, you’re insane.”

“I know that, I do.” His voice is so sweet, cooing to you. “But we can get away with it, even if we’re miraculously caught.” He presses a sweet kiss to your temple.

Well, a year later, and the two renowned lawyers are married. At least you didn’t marry someone with a criminal record ;)

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Red Alert

 Pairing: John MacTavish x Reader

Summary: Off the clock and out of uniform, Y/N turns heads—and turns Soap’s world upside down.

Warnings: Mild language, flirting, a tad bit of jealous Johnny in there, minor violence and implied sexual tension.

MASTERLIST

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The idea was simple: one night, no guns, no comms, no “breach and clear.” Just music, drinks, and maybe a little dancing. Y/N and Soap had pushed hard for it, practically dragging the team by their necks like stubborn mules.

“Come on, Cap’n,” Johnny had begged dramatically, arms spread wide like he was on stage. “We just finished a goddamn month crawling through shit in three countries. We deserve a drink that doesn’t taste like motor oil.”

“And maybe wear something that doesn’t have bloodstains on it,” she added with a grin.

It took some effort—mostly from Y/N and her “pretty please” face—but finally, even Ghost caved. Begrudgingly. With his mask still firmly in place, but he’d be there.

They’d expected a typical night. A bit of banter, some decent whisky, and watching Soap try and fail to dance like a normal human.

What they didn’t expect… was Y/N.

The woman who spent the last month in cargo pants, plate carriers, and face streaked with dirt—suddenly gliding into the VIP section of the club like temptation had put on heels and decided to commit war crimes.

Her dress was red. Not crimson. Not burgundy. Red—the kind that screamed danger ahead. It clung to her curves like a second skin, dipped low at the back, stopped mid thigh, and shimmered under the club lights every time she moved. Instead of her regulation bun she normally rocked daily, her hair was down and framed her face beautifully. She looked relaxed, a complete one-eighty from what they were accustomed to seeing her in.

Soap’s drink nearly slipped from his hand. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered under his breath.

Gaz, not one to hide his reactions, gave a low whistle. “That’s definitely not regulation.”

Price just blinked at her over the rim of his glass, the fatherly “you’re giving me a heart attack” look written all over his face. Even Ghost, who normally couldn’t be rattled by a damn grenade, stiffened ever so slightly.

“What?” she asked as she made it to where they were seated, noticing the looks on all of their faces as she approached.

“Where’s the rest of the dress, lass?”

“If you all thought I wasn’t going to show off these legs after a month of being in cargo pants and caked in dirt, you all sadly thought wrong.” The low lighting in the club made her look even more deadly than she was.

The song changed and she left them there to their own devices, making her way out to the dancefloor. Johnny’s eyes tracked her every move, eyes trained on the flimsy dress that she most definitely couldn’t bend down in unless she wanted to flash everyone. Feeling eyes on her, she put an extra sway in her hips.

From the booth they had eyes on everything- the exits, the group of persons on the dancefloor and most importantly… her. Price and Simon were having their own conversation while Gaz was busy flicking his eyes between Y/N and Johnny, the Scottish bloke hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

It didn’t help that half the club’s male population suddenly realized she were there too. 

“Bloody hell mate. Breathe, blink, do something other than stare at her.” Gaz chuckled at his friend’s dazed state. 

Johnny snapped out of whatever trance he was under and looked over to Gaz who still wore a shit eating grin. “I wasn’t staring.” His eyes flicked back to the dancefloor to see Y/N dancing with a stranger. His grip tightened on his glass at the sight of the man sliding his hands up her legs. 

Too close for both his and her preference.

Noticing her change in demeanor Johnny got up and stalked through the crowd to get to her. He got there in time to see her stomp her stiletto heel on the man’s foot causing him to grunt in pain. She turned to walk away but the man held onto her wrist which earned him a right hook to the nose from Y/N. 

“You bitch!” The man howled in pain, blood gushing from his nose. Anger flashed in his eyes and before he could retaliate Johnny clamped his hand down on the man’s shoulder, leaning in to make sure the man heard him when he spoke.

“I’d fucking leave before more than your nose gets broken.” The man opened his mouth to protest but Johnny squeezed harder on his shoulder until he caved.  

The guy backed off. Smart.

“I had that under control.” Y/N cocked an eyebrow at the Scotsman who stared down at her. 

“Nice punch you got there. Remind me not to piss you off.” A slower song came on this time, a wicked smile graced her lips. Y/N wagged her finger in a come-hither motion, taking hold of his hand.

“Dance with me, Johnny.”

He swore his brain shorted out for a second. The way she said his name—soft, teasing—sent a shiver down his spine and knocked the wind right out of him. His stomach flipped like he was sixteen again and completely, utterly doomed.

“Dunno if I’m trained for this,” he joked, swallowing hard as his eyes traced the way that bloody dress shimmered when she turned.

She leaned in, breath teasing the shell of his ear. “Not everything’s in the manual, Johnny.”

Soap had fought enemies with knives. Explosives. Even his bare fists. But nothing—nothing—had prepared him for the sight of Y/N moving to the beat, hips swaying, hair brushing her shoulders, eyes daring him to keep up.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she teased, stepping back to dance again. The music pulsed. The lights shifted. Y/N turned pushing her hips flush against his and gave them a roll, throwing a smirk over her shoulder.

Soap groaned. “You’re gonna be the bloody death of me, lass.” He held onto her hips keeping her flush against him as she swayed to the beat.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Sergeant.”

Back at the booth where the others sat, they watched on as the pair danced. “Who knew all it took for him to get off his ass was seeing someone put their hands on her.” Gaz chuckled over the rim of his glass.

By the end of the night, Johnny had danced. Twice. Drank enough liquor to get buzzed. Laughed. And very nearly started a fight when some other guy tried to buy Y/N a drink.

She was glowing—laughing, spinning, alive in a way that field ops didn’t allow.

And Johnny?

He was just realizing that the person he saw as his field partner, his chaos counterpart, his brother-in-arms…

…might just be his biggest threat yet.

Because now, every time he looked at her, all he could think about was that damn red dress.

And how he'd never be able to see her as just a teammate again.

[hyunjuenthusiast]

BITTERSWEET (PART 3)

Summary: Y/n has always been sweet to everyone, no matter their background or their appearance. So what happens when Y/n is sweet to the wrong person?

Pairing: Yandere!Hyun-ju x femreader!

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, stalking, obsession, angst, kidnapping, drugging, use of a gun.

PREVIOUSLY

"Yes, yes, I need help! I've been kidnapped, I don't know where I am, please! Help me! I-I live on South Street of Soul!" Y/n explains. The officer's eyes widen.

"Ma'am that can't be." She says, causing Y/n to falter. "W-What?" She says to the officer. The officer looks at her, a little pale.

"Ma'am.... you're in Thailand."

NOW

Y/n sat in the small interrogation room, her hand sat unmoving around a now cold cup of coffee.

The nice police woman who spoke English had stepped out of the room so she could describe the case to her higher-ups.

She could feel a tear slowly make it's way down her cheek. She didn't bother wiping it away.

How did this happen. How could that sick fuck have gotten her into another country without raising any questions?

Her stomach twisted at the thought. She was in Thailand. Moving to Korea had been a heat of the moment decision, one that her best friend had helped her make. After she lost both of her parents, she couldn't stay in that empty house any longer. So she packed everything up and moved to Korea with her best friend.

That turned out to be the worst mistake of her life so far. She loved South Korea. It was beautiful and the people were so kind. Well most of them. Meeting Hyun-ju had been the downfall it seemed.

Even though Hyun-ju acted sweet, nothing could excuse abduction. Nothing. How long had Hyun-ju been festering those feelings of obsession before she decided to kidnap her? What was her end goal? Marriage? Murder? Y/n didn't want to stay and find out.

The moment she heard that she was in a different country, her knees had buckled, sending her to the floor with a sob. The nice police officer had led her into a separate room, asking her about her captor. Y/n had told her everything she knew. But they had no record of a Cho Hyun-Ju here.

She had to have used a fake name and passport to get here, and one for Y/n as well. Y/n even remembered how to get back to the cabin, but Hyun-ju had been a step ahead.

When the police arrived at the cabin, nothing was there. Literally nothing. No clothes, no kitchen appliances. Nothing. It was like no one had been living there.

That scared Y/n. That meant Hyun-ju had recourses. Maybe even people to help her. Y/n was scared that if Hyun-ju were to somehow find her...

She didn't truly know what the woman was capable of, and she didn't want to find out.

Y/n jumped as the police woman came back into the room. She gave Y/n a comforting smile before sitting back down in the chair across from her.

Y/n could tell something was wrong. The way the woman sat was tense. Her eyes held pity. And the words that escaped her mouth made Y/n's stomach drop.

"Ms. Y/l/n... the regulations here in Thailand are a bit different for transport than they are in Korea or in America. I'm afraid that until you have a valid passport, you won't be able to return to Korea."

Fuck. That was the only word in Y/n's head. She could feel her lips trembling, her eyes watering. "H-How long will that take? W-What am I supposed to do? W-Where am I supposed to go?" Y/n asks.

The police woman looks down slightly. "It is routine four to six weeks for the passport, maybe less if you pay more." She says, not looking Y/n in the eye.

"I was kidnapped! How do you expect me to pay for a fucking passport? I didn't even have shoes on when I ran in here! Do you really think I would have grabbed petty cash on the way out of the door? "Oh, that's right, I don't have a passport, let me bring some money just in case!" I didn't even fucking know I was in a different country!" Y/n yells, her chest heaving.

When she sees the look on the police woman's face, she looks down, ashamed. "I-Im sorry." She whispers, her shakey hands coming up to cover her tear stained face.

"You have absolutely no reason to apologize, ma'am." The woman says softly. "I can't say I know what you're going through, because I definitely do not. But if it's any consolation, our agents are working overtime to find this woman. And we will help you as much as we can." She says.

Y/n nods, more tears falling. "Thank you." She whispers. The officer gives her another smile before walking out again. Leaving Y/n alone with her thoughts.

A while later, the lady comes back, asking if Y/n wanted anything to eat. "I'm okay, thank you, though." Y/n said. Not having an appetite.

Instead, the woman just sits and keeps Y/n's mind off of things as things move along. "My name is Mariam, but usually everyone calls me Mary." She says softly, giving Y/n a little bit of comfort.

"It's nice to officially meet you, Mary." She says, fiddling with her fingers. "D-Do you know...w-where im supposed to go? After this, or am I to stay here?" Y/n asks.

"Technically, we can only keep you here for twenty-four hours, and you've been here for nearly twelve already..." Mary says.

Y/n's shoulders drop. "D-Do you know where the nearest hotel is?" She asks, even though she doesn't have money.

Mary sighs, closing her eyes in what looks like guilt. "No. You can stay with me." She says, making Y/n look at her.

"Y-You don't have to do that, I can figure it o-" Mary Inturupts. "I would feel terrible, and I only live about seven minutes up the road. You're a foreigner, and you don't have anywhere to go, I wouldn't be doing my badge justice if I just left you to fend for yourself." She says, Y/n looks down, still unsure.

"I have a spare bedroom. You wouldn't have to sleep on the couch or anything." She says, seemingly trying to sweeten the deal. "T-This is...so kind of you, Mary, thank you." Y/n says tearfully.

Mary gives her a tight smile, which doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"This is it. It looks a little small, but it's home." Mary says as they pull up to her house. Y/n shakes her head. "It's perfect, cozy. Thank you so much, Mary." She says, looking at the officer.

Once they are inside, Y/n looks around. It smells like cinnamon, and it's decorated very simple. It's cute.

"Let me show you to the room." Mary says, and Y/n follows her. They walk down a small hallway to the room, it's small, but it's perfect.

"There's clean towels in the closet if you wanted to take a shower." Mary says, making Y/n hum. "That sounds perfect. Thank you so much." Mary only nods, explaining that she would cook them something for dinner, rolling her eyes playfully when Y/n says that's not necessary.

"You didn't eat at the station, and you're a guest in my home. My momma would roll over in her grave if I didn't treat you with anything but hospitality!" She says, making Y/n smile.

Y/n stands under the hot water, letting the heat relax her. She didn't have many tears left to cry. She was exhausted and now hungry. She felt hope, even though she would be here for a while. She would still be able to go home. Moving back to America sounded like the best thing to do. Korea was nice, but she missed home.

She'd move back into her parents' home and maybe adopt a cat.

Y/n couldn't hear that Mary was on the phone, not with how loud the water was.

"Y-You told me to call you if I knew anything...s-she's in the shower right now. Do you still know how to get here?"

Y/n steps out of the shower, feeling a thousand times better. Her feet still ached from running without shoes. But she was grateful that she had gotten out. That she was free.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and her eye bags were definitely noticeable. Jesus, she would have to do some serious skin care when she gets back home.

After getting dressed in the clothes Mary gave her, she walked out of the bathroom. She puts her clothes on the basket that's in the room.

Fiddling with her wet hair, she walks down the small hallway and into the living room.

She freezes where she stands.

Sitting on the couch...is Hyun-ju.

Y/n looks at her, wide-eyed and scared. Where was Mary? How did she find her?

She takes a step back when Hyun-ju stands up, but Hyun-ju raises her hands, trying to seem like less of a threat.

"I'm not here to hurt you, sweet girl. You know I would never." She says to Y/n softly.

Y/n trembles, not convinced. "H-How did you find me? W-where's M-Mary?" Y/n asks with a quivering lip.

Hyun-ju only continues to look at Y/n softly. "Mariam, she's in the kitchen. She did promise to make you something to eat after all."

Y/n tenses. Her head tilted in confusion and fear. Hyun-ju gives her another soft look. "Mariam needs money for her brother's cancer treatments. I've been more than happy to provide it. She is the chief of police here, after all, and I needed her to be alert in case you did decide to leave me." She explains softly.

Y/n shrinks back. No. Mary wouldn't do that. She was kind and she was a police officer, she wouldn't take dirty money.

"She's cooking pasta. No red sauce. Your favorite. Though, I don't mean to sound arrogant when I say it probably won't be as good as mine." She says, hoping to lighten the mood, which clearly was not working.

Y/n takes another scared step back when Hyun-ju steps forward again. She takes the hint, stopping.

"Your hair is wet, baby. I can dry it for you? Or put it in a braid, I don't think she has a heatless curl set here, but we could try to DIY?" She says, looking at Y/n's wet hair.

Y/n says nothing, not wanting this sick fuck to touch her. "I don't want you to get sick, sweetness. But if you don't want me to, I understand." She says and gestures to the couch. "Please sit with me."

Y/n shakes her head tearfully, her back now against the wall. Hyun-ju frowns, looking down a little. "That's okay. You probably need to stretch your legs, hmm?" Hyun-ju questions with a small smile.

Y/n continues to stay silent. Hyun-ju slightly falters. "I-I know why you left, sweet girl. I understand. You're scared, and you have every right to be." Hyun-ju says.

"But I'd never hurt you. Never. My love for you...it's unconditional. Nothing will ever change that. I love you with my whole heart. I know you're scared of me, baby. But I promise you have no reason to be. Now please, sit." She says.

Y/n stays put for a while but eventually sits in the recliner next to the couch, making Hyun-ju chuckle. "That's not where I was hoping for to sit, but I'll take it." She says.

Y/n tenses as Mary walks into the living room, avoiding Y/n's eyes. She announces that dinner is ready. "We can eat in here, you don't mind, right?" Hyun-ju says, giving a slight glare to Mary, who immediately shakes her head. "O-Of course not, l-let me go get everything." She says, rushing back to the kitchen.

Y/n doesn't relax, especially when Hyun-ju moves to the other side of the couch, closest to where she's sitting in the recliner.

When Mary comes back with the pan full of pasta, she sits it down on the coffee table. Hyun-ju grabs one of the plates and puts some of the pasta on it, then handing the plate over to Y/n, with a soft smile.

Y/n reaches to grab it with shakey hands. Cringing internally as she feels Hyun-ju's fingers brush her own. "T-Thank you." Y/n whispers. "You're most welcome, sweetness!" Hyun-ju responds.

"I was talking to Mary." Y/n says, and Hyun-ju looks to Mary, her gaze now cold. Mary quickly drops her gaze to the floor. "Y-You're welcome." She says.

Y/n doesn't eat immediately, and Hyun-ju notices. "You don't want to try it, sweet girl?" She asks, then gives a cold glare to Mary. Y/n quickly takes a bite. "I-Its good." She says shakily.

Hyun-ju relaxes some. After Y/n only eats half of her plate, she sits it down on the coffee table. Making Hyun-ju frown. "Baby you-" Y/n doesn't care what she has to say. Standing up. "I have to go to the bathroom." She says, making Hyun-ju tense. She also sets her plate down. "I'll help you, swee-" fuck no. "I'm perfectly capable of going to the bathroom on my own!" She quickly says.

"Of course, baby. We'll just be in here." Hyun-ju says. Y/n quickly sprints to the bathroom. Locking the door and breathing heavy. Why was this happening? Why would Mary do this? The window!

She tries with all her strength to get the bathroom window open, but it won't budge. She allows herself to cry. Only to jump when she hears a loud pop.....

It was a gunshot.

SLAY? What do we think so far?! I'm working on all of your requests rn don't worry🙏🏻😭

[punkeropercyjackson]

Kon:Why does Jason suddenly sound like he eat cigarette lunchables when he was training with Damian's mom.......

Tim:No,that's just what he usually sounds like.Whenever you heard him talking before,he was using his Duke voice

Kon:And what's Jason's Duke voice?He didn't sound like a middle schooler who stockpiles grilled cheese sandwitches either,he sounded like Daniel from Jacob Two-Two

Tim:It's this subcouncious thing he does where he puts his voice on like 300% softness setting whenever he's talking to Duke

Jason:You dropsellers know i'm right here right

Kon,hearing the door open and turning to see Robin!Duke entering:So's your voice regulator now

Robin!Duke:Can you guys help me steal a box of stuff i want?This creepy white boy at the checkout ile said something about how i don't look like the Robin back when he was my age so i'm not paying him

Jason,walking up to him and entering Duke voice:Of course sweetheart-Do you want me to threaten him too?Can i please beat him up for you?

Robin!Duke:That'd be nice too but just the first part.You can use that magic-y gun Rose got you but nothing else,i need to keep low after last time i light up a police station

Kon:Like on fire?

Robin!Duke:No,i pronounced light like that for accuracy.I used my Meta powers to shine on it so hard it fucking dusted

Kon:Jason i think i get you for once

[dolicekiss]

Good afternoon/morning!

If you are still taking requests, I'd love to ask if you could maybe do a yandere Hannibal x reader (female if that would be okay) one-shot where the reader is one of Hannibals favourite patients (maybe shes a writer who gets alot of nightmares or something).

However, during one of their sessions, she reveals that she is withdrawing as she is moving back to Europe (this obvi messes up whatever plans Hannibal had for her). Perhaps she is moving away because she has realised how dangerous Hannibal really is and does not want to get involved.

It would be interesting to see how you would interpret Hannibals' thoughts, feelings, and next plan of action after hearing such daunting news.

Thank you <3

♡: i hope i did this justice

Shattered Dreams

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal X Patient!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: yandere hannibal, implied stalking, coercion, manipulation, mention of death, trauma, nightmares, mind games, mention of blood

Draped in a beautiful silk dress, a cashmere coat over your shoulders, your presence was loud and evident in Hannibal Lecter’s office.

You reminded him of him.

Charming, sophisticated, beautiful and completely enthralling. He knew somewhere he was too similar to you and that resonated with him. An attachment had already formed, an ethical sort of attachment which could put his career into danger

Yet he found himself not caring.

His main focus was you.

He often found himself imagining you by his side, as his other half. His soulmate, the only one for him and solely the mere imagination pleased him but it worked to increase his hunger too.

Anytime a patient other than you would show up, he'd have a scowl on his face and tend to their needs like he was being held at gun point.

But when you'd come.

It was like fucking spring had arrived in his office. Flowers blooming, radiance everywhere and even your scent was sweet like floral.

Here you were, once more in his office to converse about the demons that haunted you. Hannibal was the best at his job, too good but deep down, you'd already caught whiff of the danger that he was and could amount to.

He scared you.

No matter how many sweet smiles he'd sent you, the amount of terms of endearment he'd use to address to you — none of it concealed the monstrosity he harbored inside him. You'd captured it and now you were in a dilemma.

Whether to leave or tell the law enforcement.

You inhaled sharply and then slowly exhaled, a breathing exercise Hannibal had taught you to help you regulate your breathing.

“Everything alright, miss?” His gruff voice pulled you back into reality and you nodded your head quickly, not wanting him to know that you knew about his depraved instincts.

You smiled softly. “Yes.”

“Did you have nightmares again?”

“Yes.” You responded truthfully. “It does not matter how many books I write, how many characters I kill, there seems to be no end to these nightmares.”

Your nightmares stemmed from an accident you'd faced as a child. The only survivor were you, the only kin left while the rest of your family had died. Right before your very gaze.

It did not matter how much sleeping pills you took or how much coffee you drank. As soon as you'd fall into a slumber, the haunting eyes of your deceased mother would always stare back at you — lifeless and soulless.

And no matter how many times you dreamed of the bloody incident, you did not find yourself forgetting about them. You wanted to forget it, blur out the faces of your famo members but as each day passed by, it only grew more vivid and clear.

Its like your brain was working in reverse.

“Have you tried what I asked you to do?”

You looked up at him.

There it was, that smile of his.

It had nearly worked to trap you.

But you caught onto the danger looming beneath him. You were no foreigner to danger and Hannibal Lecter was a blood thirsty man who killed, killed and savored. You had no desire to end up as his meal. Or buffet.

“I need to tell you something.”

When you'd uttered those words out, Hannibal could already sense something wasn't right. You didn't appear as your usual self. You were rather, chatty and spoke to him about your problems. Worked together as a team to cure this plague that had jeopardized your sleep.

But today you were different.

Quiet, reserved, hands stable and placed over your knees.

Hannibal gestured for you to go ahead.

“I have decided to move to Europe.” You broke the news with a deep breath. Fingers bending and nails grazing across the fabric of your dress.

Hannibal tilted his head in confusion.

Akin to a puppy.

He didn't see any problem with your sessions nor did he find you troublesome. He was sure you also liked him, as your therapist but you did. There was some sort of fondness, between the two of you. There had to be. You were his favorite, you'd become a part of him without even realizing or intending to do so and now you wanted to leave?

Leave him?

There was not a corner in the world made for you to hide from him. Anywhere you'd go, he would find you.

Hannibal blinked, the darkness within him clawing at him, clawing for you. Commanding him over and over again to offer you drugged wine and take you so you wouldn't leave for Europe.

He put on a polite smile, hoping that would veil the darkness in him. “May I ask why?”

Your lips shuddered. “For a change. I think moving away from here would be better since my whole family died here, maybe the nightmares will stop occurring.”

Those nightmares might stop occurring but the nightmare Hannibal was about to become wouldn't stop.

You noticed the subtle change in his gaze and shifted in your seat, uncomfortable and uneasy.

Hannibal nodded, feigning understanding but he was all over the place. Everything was under his control — every damn thing since the beginning. How did he begin to lose control? There was absolutely no way he could let you move to Europe, let you get far away from him where he can't bask in the vision of you.

He would go to the ends of the Earth just to catch a mere glimpse of you.

He had to coax you out of this. Use coercion into making you stay here for the rest of your life.

Hannibal had plans for you.

Big plans.

He was going to make you his, bring you closer to him, unveil a part of him that no one had ever seen before.

He'll he'd fucking told you about Mischa today and no one knew about her. He had shown you parts of him no one had seen and now you were going to abandon him? Take those parts of him witj you and leave him empty, fucking lonely and abandoned?

Oh Hannibal was not going to let that happen.

He nearly felt angry.

Rage bubbling up inside him but he controlled it, calming it down.

“You have a life here, miss. A proper life; friends, colleagues, relatives. Don't you think abandoning it all would be a bit too extreme and intense, even for you?”

You bit on your lower lip.

In a way he was right.

Your whole life you had lived it here. Friends, closest of closest, relatives — the only blood relation left after the demise of your own and colleagues. It was all too difficult to leave them behind but fear was a tool which worked to push people to do things they never would've even thought about.

You swallowed. “I know, Doctor Lecter but these nightmares haunt me. These memories do not disappear, so it is better that I leave.”

Hannibal started to play with his hands.

They sat comfortably over his knees and all he could do was toss and turn his fingers, scratch his palm, the only way to actually show the unbridled emotion he was overwhelmed with. Yet his face carried a sweet smile like he was completely happy and supportive of your decision.

Hannibal saw how your lips shuddered when you spoke. They often shuddered when you'd lie in the beginning about your feelings, about how you did not miss your deceased family one bit.

He wondered if you were lying.

His own fingers tracing along his lips.

“Have you thought about where you'd go to? I mean, Europe is a vast place.” Hannibal commented and you swallowed, in a dilemma whether you should reveal your whereabouts or not.

It was a country.

A huge country.

He couldn't actually find you there, right?

“France.” You said, with a subtle smile on your face.

You wanted to get out of your comfortable seat, go home, pack your bags, board the plane and never look back. The man sitting before you was a killer, a cannibalistic serial killer and you didn't allow that to sink it at all in his presence.

Afraid your demeanor would break.

It would shatter and he'd capture you.

Hannibal grinned.

That was all he needed.

“Marseille is a beautiful city.” Hannibal said while his hawk like gaze analyzed your facial expressions.

Nothing.

You nodded in agreement. “So I've heard.”

“And Lyon too. I've been there.” He said, standing up from his couch and moving over to stand by his wooden desk. When he mentioned Lyon, not a single crease formed on your face nor did your lips shiver.

So it wasn't Lyon either.

Hannibal was viciously smart and he was going to find the city you were going to settle in sooner or later. “Nice has beautiful art. You should go there too.”

Your face scrunched up.

Hannibal caught that. The little crease of discomfort forming in your forehead and a feeling of satisfaction spread in his insides.

You were moving there.

“I think I should go now, Doctor Lecter.” You said, standing up when you realized your session had ended a long time ago.

This was the last session you'd ever share with him.

Hannibal walked towards you, hand extended out. “It was nice having you as my patient, sweetheart. Hopefully your nightmares will slowly disappear with time.”

Even though it was a goodbye, it did not feel like it.

Your gaze dropped down to his hand and you nodded, taking his hand and shaking it. His hold grew a little firm but you didn't say anything, slowly releasing his hand and retrieving it. “Thank you, Doctor Lecter. For all your help.”

He grinned as he watched you turn around and leave his office.

This was not going to be the last time you'll see of the man and he'll make sure of that.

Hannibal licked his lips. The sound of the door shutting putting a crack in his heart — his chest aching for a glimpse of you but he knew this wasn't the end. There was more, with him, there was always more.

You could not escape this easily.

— ♡ —

Months had passed.

You were still adjusting your life in this new country, surrounded by new people who speak a completely different language but you were still learning.

Your nightmares had deceased greatly by spending time in a foreign country and in a way, you were thankful for Hannibal. Because of him you'd abandoned your birth place — which honestly plagued you.

There was nothing left for you there.

Only bad memories and horrific nightmares.

You'd forgotten about nearly everything in that country except a certain blonde; Hannibal Lecter.

He still haunted you.

After that last session, you never possibly heard from him ever again. You met a man too, who claimed to have feelings for you but the next day he was reported for bad behavior against women. They had removed him from your workplace.

You felt a little sad that a man like that had shown interest in you.

Still, life was getting better and better.

You were still writing and had signed a deal with a new publishing house but other than that, you gave lectures at a university for your own knowledge and sake.

Your life felt like it had finally fallen into place.

“They have a new lecturer, have you seen him?” A female colleague asked and you looked up at her from your laptop. You shook your head.

The woman smiled. “Well, he'll be here soon. He's done PHD and has a masters degree too.”

You blinked a little but then went back to typing on your laptop, finishing the last chapter of your book. Break was finished after a few minutes but this time instead of heading back to your class, you were told to head to the office and give the new lecturer a tour.

Apparently he was a big deal, someone who had studied the human mind through and through.

You made your way to the office, opening the door with a smile. The dean sat there but the familiar mop of blonde slicked back hair caught your attention more — your fingers tightening around the metal hold of the door.

He turned around and with a smile, greeted you. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Hannibal was in Nice, in your university, as a lecturer.

Your face went pale.

Was there truly no escape from him?

[egypt-ancient-and-modern]

In this election in the USA, our liberties, identities, and the very soul of the nation is at stake. One side, the Republican side, has inflicted countless pain and suffering. They rolled back Roe. Women have died, continue to die as you read this, from lack of access to basic care due to abortion bans. Yet there is not a law regulating when men can do with their own bodies. Democrats have not handled the crisis and genocide in Gaza adequately. But Republicans and Trump have said that they would help Israel “finish the job” of genocide rather than call for a ceasefire. When American Jews express concerns, Trump blames them for his possible election loss in a move reminiscent of H*tler, thus showing the only side he cares for is his criminal, raping self snd gaining presidential immunity. Rather than dealing with the epidemic of gun violence, they would rather scapegoat the most vulnerable among us from immigrants to trans people to the mentally ill. Republicans, who botched a pandemic, are set to botch the economy and pass a greater tax load on the most economically vulnerable citizens while fat cats like Elon Musk get more tax breaks to spew their hateful rhetoric without consequences. Healthcare will be scrapped because, despite 8 years of time, Trump still only has "concepts of a plan" and has no intentions of making a plan as he us covered regardless. social security would be cut, harming disabled people (who he has openly mocked and questioned their right to exist straight from the Nazi playbook) and the elderly who have no ways to survive without it in many cases. He sells Bibles, and people assume he is Christian and some call a prophet. Let us remember Matthew 7:15 regarding false prophets. We know them by the fruit of their actions. These are his actions. Will you vote for a con man who wants to rip kindness from the world and thinks Kamala expressing joy is a threat? Please join me in voting away the biggest threat to American democracy and indeed human decency.

[zeke-fanfucs]

I love her so much. Wildfire should be a Canon character. Please @goodboyaudios!!!!!!! Let her be one! You made it a point Devlin moved on from Faith and found someone!!!! So let it be Wildfire!! Here you go @solzticesoulz! I had so much fun writing about her. She’s a beauty!

Two Pyros, One Gun

Wildfire x Devlin | Featuring Albus & Faithful | Chaotic Romance + Workshop Shenanigans (<- did I write it right?)

˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗

⸻

“You can’t just cram a combustion chamber next to the regulator, Wilds!”

Devlin’s voice cracked halfway through the sentence, hands flailing above his head like the laws of physics were personally offended.

Wildfire grinned, goggles askew on her head, flame-bright hair glowing just a little too much. “You can, baby, you just don’t want to. Big difference.”

“That’s not how science works!”

“That’s exactly how science works—if it doesn’t explode, you’re not pushing it hard enough.”

Devlin stared at her, jaw open, grease on his hands and soul-deep regret in his heart. “Why are you like this?”

Wildfire beamed, stepping over the mess of tools and half-melted scraps. “Because you love me.”

“Tragically.”

They had been arguing for an hour—about wiring layouts, thermal dispersal, and whether or not fusing a mini-reactor onto the side of a multi-shot plasma rail was a ‘sexy upgrade’ or a ‘damned war crime.’

Wildfire called it the Love Cannon. Devlin called it no, seriously, we’re going to die.

They were still arguing when a high-pitched whine rose from the prototype between them.

Wildfire blinked. “Did you set the coolant delay?”

Devlin blinked back. “No. I thought you did.”

They both looked at the weapon.

Then they looked at each other.

“Oh—”

“SHIT—”

A HISS of steam exploded from the side as the Love Cannon began to overheat, glowing ominously orange.

“IT’S GONNA BLOW!” Devlin shouted, grabbing the whole thing and sprinting out the workshop door, Wildfire trailing behind and cackling.

In the yard, Albus sipped a beer from a chipped cup, squinting at the commotion. Beside him, Faithful leaned against a railing, eyes closed like she was praying for patience.

“Should we help?” he asked, watching as Devlin hurled the sparking weapon into a sandpit where it finally fizzled out in a puff of smoke and sparks.

“No,” Faith said without looking. “They’re bonding.”

Albus snorted. “He’s gonna marry that woman and she’s gonna burn his tools outta spite.”

Faithful smiled faintly. “He’s into that. Somehow.”

Back in the pit, Wildfire tackled Devlin to the ground and laughed breathlessly into his neck. “We almost blew up the workshop!”

“I noticed,” he wheezed. “You chaotic bird.”

She kissed him—messy, fierce, probably singed his lip a little. “You love my chaos.”

“Why is this my type?” he muttered, pulling her tighter.

“Because I’m loud, explosive, and extremely hot,” she said smugly, flicking a spark off his collar.

He groaned. “You’re lucky I’m weak.”

Albus called from the porch. “WRAP IT UP, LOVEBIRDS. YOU’RE SCARING THE COW.”

“There’s a cow?” Wildfire blinked.

Devlin sighed. “Don’t ask.”

They kissed again anyway—because the Love Cannon may have overheated, but this love? Burned just right.

˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ✸ ˎˊ˗ ˗

[cheegu3]

gangster!new - punishing you

note; original ask here, I had to make a separate post bc of tumblr again

warnings; yandere/mafia themes, unhealthy relationships, gun, slightly dub-con, sadism, drugging, smut - rough sex, non-protective, nasty but short sex lol (licking cum, spitting in mouth)

wc; 2.6k

The billboard lights had gotten blurrier the further you walked and you couldn't help but wonder if it was your mind playing tricks on you.

With the adrenaline pumping in your body and your water-soaked shoes running on the wet pavement, there was a high chance you weren’t exactly in the right state of mind now.

Maybe because of that you pushed on, even as it got so bad you almost fell into the busy traffic.

You didn't hear anything but your own heavy breaths. Occasionally, you scared yourself by thinking he was behind you; if you turned around too quickly you'd see a man in a suit and immediately you squealed '' no, no, please, '' to yourself.

It was only yesterday that you found out that your boyfriend wasn't who you thought he was.

At the end of the night out with your friends you were supposed to walk a few blocks to get a bus.

On the way there you passed by many alleyways but one in particular piqued your interest. Sounds came from far down it. Hushed voices, muffled screams, and the sound of a gun reloading.

You shouldn't have done it but your feet seemed to drag themselves forward on their own until you stood at the very end of the alley and it was already too late - they saw you.

'' Hey! Who's that? ''

You froze before your brain sensed danger and kicked in your flight instinct. Whipping around you started to run as hard as you could and sprinted for around 200 meters, then dove into a small shop when you felt your legs grow weak.

You forced your breathing to regulate, taking deep breaths while placing a hand over your chest as if to stop your pounding heart from escaping it.

The customers gave you curious looks and eyed each other questioningly. Then their gazes moved which you only noticed once you weren't panting anymore and had the energy to raise your head.

They were fixated on something behind you. In sync, their eyes moved from the left to the right until whatever was behind seemed to stop right at the door where you were standing.

You had a gut feeling that it was the guys from before. The gun and the shady business that seemed to be going down in that alley had made you come to the conclusion that they were gangsters. The city was full of them, and your boyfriend Chanhee had often told you to stay away from them at all costs. He said he knew them too well since he was a native.

Pretending like your anxiety levels hadn't skyrocketed, you went over to the back row of the shop casually and looked at something on the shelf. The bells above the door jingled, causing you to be more alert as they finally entered the shop.

You listened to their footsteps and your forehead creased. It was hard to make out how many of them there were. The loud thud of boots was always followed by several more and then a dragging sound.

You turned your head a little bit and discovered that the sound came from people moving out of the way. They were getting closer to you. It seemed like they inspected everyone in the shop before moving on to the next which meant there was no escaping the inevitable meeting you'd have with them.

A lone sandwich was the only thing you took out of the shelf. It would be too suspicious to just stand there, your back turned and not even buy anything. Maybe...just maybe they'd think you weren't the one if you actually looked like you belonged there.

But it was getting too hard to not act like the imposter. Everything about you screamed guilty. Your hands clenched around the poor sandwich to stop them from shaking violently.

Your mind kept going back to the alley. With some panic, you realized that if they saw you again, they'd recognize you right away. Although you didn't see their faces due to the darkness, you were standing right under the streetlights.

The crinkling sound brought the attention of a man who had ventured off on his own to make the search for the witness more effective.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus on something else to stop your body from sweating profusely. But it was too late. The man had already put his hand on your shoulder to turn you to him.

Glancing back, the first thing you saw was his pale hand on you. Surprisingly for a gangster, it was very pretty. Long slick fingers, not a scar, injury, or callus in sight.

You didn't mean to, but you smiled and looked up at the man. The smile fell immediately. And so did his, your boyfriend's.

For a whole minute, you just stared at each other. A range of emotions washed over both of your faces; confusion, anger, guilt, sadness, denial.

He finally spoke, and when he did so his voice came out tired. '' You weren't supposed to find out like this. ''

You didn't say anything. Your mouth felt like sandpaper. But it seemed to only agitate him. Maybe he wanted you to say the words he'd want to hear like ' it's okay, I don't care, I love you anyway '.

You couldn't say them. Not after you'd seen him like that.

'' I told you to go straight home, didn't I? '' he raised his voice which made you flinch.

You didn't miss the way he put his hands in his pockets. People don't show their hands when they feel certain emotions, such as anxiety or guilt.

He knew he was in the wrong for deceiving you but still acted now like it was somehow your fault for discovering his dark little secret.

'' You never listen to me. That's the problem with you! ''

He was getting angrier and angrier by your continued silence, taking it as an act of rebellion. As he took a step towards you, meant to intimidate, someone behind him called out, '' New, let's go. ''

New?

You stared up at him. He responded to the name and gave you one last look, tensely telling you under his breath for you to go home, and then left with the group.

The different name caught you off guard. It felt like the final punch to the gut before crashing down. Somehow it created a wall between you and Chanhee. A different name, a different persona, a different job. He'd been living a completely separate life.

You hadn't been cheated on but it almost felt like it. With a sour taste in your mouth, you went home at last and locked yourself into one of the spare bedrooms. There was no way you wanted to see your boyfriend for the rest of the day.

As you lay in bed trying to sleep, a thought popped into the forefront of your mind, something you'd never considered much before. Sure, he'd been possessive and overbearing but you could handle it.

This however? He was a bad person, a terrible one in fact, who hurt others.

'' Oh my god, '' you whispered to yourself.

Was that man dead? Had he killed him? Your sweet loving boyfriend? You felt sick. The love was rapidly disappearing, only being replaced with pure disgust. How could you have loved someone like that, or not noticed it? A psycho right in front of your eyes!

A psycho who laid his delicate hands around you at night, telling you he loved you; while those same hands were used to kill.

'' Y/n? ''

As if on cue, the devil came home and knocked softly on your door. You turned over on your side and ignored it, hoping that he'd give up and go away soon.

And he did. He tried the door and despite not getting an answer which would usually set his temper off, he just left it and went away.

You woke up the next day with an uneasiness in the pit of your stomach. There was a feeling that you needed to walk on eggshells around him now.

'' Hey. Did you sleep well? '' was the first thing he said.

It wasn't unusual for him to ask that if he got up earlier than you. Now though, he could probably see the dark circles under your eyes, as his face was laced with concern.

You only nodded and tried not to stiffen when he approached you for his morning kiss. It was awkward for both of you.

He gestured to the filled dining table before heading to the door. A glance at the clock told you it was almost 1pm; you'd slept for a very long time and likely he had waited hours for you.

'' Are you going somewhere? ''

'' Work, '' he said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

Work from now on meant his mafia work, the part he'd kept hidden from you before. Your eyes narrowed. Was he going off somewhere to hurt someone again?

But you didn't say anything. After the door closed behind him, you started gathering your most important things and texted your sister that you were coming over to spend the night there.

An hour passed before you felt brave enough to leave. You brought a sandwich and a water bottle that Chanhee had put out for you which you sipped on while walking to the city.

It was a Sunday so there were barely any buses. You clenched your teeth and kept walking despite that, determined to reach your sister's house in an hour or two.

However, it would prove to be a lot more difficult than you'd originally thought. Within twenty minutes you looked back and realized you hadn't walked far at all.

Your head began throbbing for some reason and you couldn't tell if it was the pouring rain, tiredness, or something else, but your vision started getting distorted too.

How long had you been walking for now? You could see the billboards shining down on you like they always did. Yet everything surrounding it seemed to be dark.

Your steps became wobbly when you were about to pass by the spot where you had seen Chanhee just the day before. You decided to rest there against the wall until whatever had just disrupted you would go away.

You had only just sat down when your body fell down to the side with a loud thump.

*******

Lights woke you from your strange slumber. You had to blink a few times to come back to reality and make sense of your surroundings. What greeted you was no longer the alley and the darkness, but a familiar setting - your bedroom, with a familiar person, your boyfriend.

He helped you sit up. You stretched your tense muscles and tried to move to get out of bed, stomach practically screaming at you. Things hadn't fully set in yet; such as the fact that he had found you somehow and brought you back there, which must mean he knew you tried to escape.

The only thing you cared about now was food and sleep since the throbbing from before had left an awful after-effect in your head.

'' I have food, don't get up. ''

He handed you some food that you nibbled on quietly. As you washed it down with some drink, it finally hit you.

Your eyes widened but you quickly had to pretend like nothing was wrong, just in case he didn't actually know. You tried to read his impression, stoic, unamused maybe? He usually smiled when he saw you looking at him. Not now though, not at all.

Once you were done he took it away from you and didn't even bother going to put it in the kitchen, he just placed it on the nightstand. For some reason it made alarm bells ring inside your head.

'' That wasn't very smart of you, was it? ''

You shuddered at his low tone, it was one he had never really used with you before, one that very clearly painted a picture of who was the prey and who was the predator.

You backed up against the header behind but didn't get very far; he pulled you down swiftly by your leg so you were dragged closer to him. Laying there shaking, he just looked down at you.

'' You know I drugged the water, right? ''

Your mouth fell open.

'' I knew you'd try something like this just to piss me off. ''

Suddenly he started unbuttoning his suit shirt which confused you. He smirked at your puzzled look and seemed to enjoy you watching him undress.

Once the shirt was off he was satisfied, and so, he came over to hover over you. Your wrists were pinned in an almost painful grip above your head.

'' I-I was just...going for a walk. '' you licked your dry lips.

His expression didn't change and he didn't answer you. Taking a breath of relief a bit too early you gasped when he caught you off guard by flipping you onto your stomach.

You tried wriggling out of his grasp.

'' Don't pretend like you don't want it every day, '' he sounded both amused and angry, his words carrying an almost venomous edge to them.

You buried your face into the pillow in embarrassment, your body acknowledging his words by the growing wetness between your thighs.

Behind you, you heard his zipper go down and were just about to glance back when he pushed into you without warning. He didn't even bother pulling his pants off.

Both of you let out loud sounds, his of pleasure and you a cry of pain. A string of incomprehensible words left your mouth, which he ignored, picking up a long and hard thrusting rhythm instead.

Loud, wet, and filthy sounds filled the room. You felt humiliated to admit you'd never been so turned on. You didn't fight it and just let your body rock with each thrust. But you were still very aware that it was a punishment by the burning feeling, that although decreasing, was very much present.

Whimpers turned into small moans that you tried muffling. But it became very hard to do as his chest touched your back and you heard his low groans in your ear.

You couldn't hide how you felt from him. Whatever sounds you made would likely push his sadistic self over the edge if you weren't careful.

Your body gave in to him more and more as the pleasure lulled your brain and numbed the pounding head from before.

'' Chanhee, '' you whined, '' I'm gonna- ''

A sound of loud protest broke from your lips. He pulled out as soon as you spoke and you felt the warmth of him finishing on your back thigh.

You were just about to whine again and angrily question why he didn't let you finish, but his warm tongue coming in contact close to your core made your body tingle.

He flipped you over on your back again and forced your mouth open with his thumb.

'' What are you doing? ''

Leaning right over you he kept your mouth open and then spat right into it, almost making you choke from the shock. The saltiness hit your tongue and you immediately recognized the taste which you swirled around in your mouth.

'' Swallow. ''

He didn't have to tell you twice. You swallowed hard and then glared at him again. As if you were telepathic, he smiled knowingly.

'' I won't let you finish tonight, you don't deserve it. ''

You rolled your eyes and clenched your teeth in irritation. It didn't really feel like you had a say in this so you remained tight-lipped with a scowl on your face.

That was until he dove his head in between your legs and made your body turn into jelly again. This was going to be a long and torturous night, you knew him.

He'd go on for hours til you were begging for him to let you finish with tears streaming down your face.

[run-little-hero]

TW // Gun mention, knife mention

Villain never pictured feeling so content at the end of their life. Supervillain is dead and most of their team has been apprehended, but approaching their own demise feels only bittersweet. It helps to know their death will be delivered by such beautiful hands.

Sirens and screams are distant, muted. Villain is facing away from the door to the roof, staring over the edge of the high-rise. They hear the door’s rusty hinges creak open, followed by gentle footsteps.

Villain takes a breath. “Fitting way for this to end.” They turn to face Hero. “I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

Hero steps forward, brows bent and lips quirked in an aching smile. Villain is drawn to the sight of them, stepping away from the edge and closer to their fate.

“Don’t fight me, Villain. Just come quietly, it’ll be easier that way.”

“Into custody? A prisoner of the Agency?” They huff. “You can’t deny me my freedom, you know that. There’s only one way for this to end.”

Hero shakes their head. “I’d never do that to you. You’ll have to kill me first.”

How brave. Villain wonders if Hero really means it. If they’d still keep that promise staring down Villain’s handgun.

They don’t act on that impulse and instead, clasp their hands behind their back. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”

Hero looks to be on the verge of tears. It rips through Villain’s heart like nothing else. “How can you ask this of me?” Hero whines.

“How can you ask me to let myself be captured? I’d rather die than subject myself to that.” The anger rises in Villain’s voice. “You know what they do to those of us they capture. Don’t act like the Agency is so merciful.”

“I—“ Hero chokes. A few tears have fallen from their eyes. “I can’t lose you.”

Villain laughs, a strained, awkward sound of grief. “Well you should’ve thought about that earlier.” They can’t feed into Hero’s affection. “Maybe a better hero wouldn’t have gotten so attached.”

“Stop it,” they spit. “You can’t make me want to hurt you.” They walk forward, taking Villain in their arms. “Please.”

“Hero…” They close their eyes. This is enough for Villain—to die knowing someone cares so much. To perish in love and treat death as an embrace. “Hero, I—“

Bang. Bang. Bang. A metal thud sounds repeatedly against the door. Hero must’ve locked it.

“They’re here.” Villain takes Hero’s hands. “Please. I want it to be you,” they resign.

Villain stares into Hero’s eyes as their hands break contact and Hero reaches for something at their waist. Adrenaline is coursing through Villain as they try to regulate their breathing, teetering on the edge of life and death. The banging on the door gets faster and louder in their ears. Finally, they close their eyes as Hero snakes an arm around their waist. They prepare for the sting of a knife, the explosion of a gun, the inevitable impact of their death.

“You’re the only person I want to save.”

Hero is gentle with them, as always. Villain doesn’t know if they’ll ever get used to it.

Hero grips Villain tight and runs them both to the edge of the roof. Before Villain can take it in, Hero fires a grappling gun at a neighboring building. They’re pulled into the air together, and Villain hardly gets a glimpse at the heroes who busted through the door before they’ve disappeared.

—

snippet #7

[khaire-traveler]

🫧 Subtle Galatea Worship 🏞️

Help to keep local rivers and streams clean; pick up any trash you find when you visit

Fall asleep/meditate to sounds of rushing water or ocean waves

Get a candle that reminds you of her; no altar needed

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Collect beach (or lake) sand, sand dollars, seashells, smooth river stones, or sea glass

Use a river stone as a worry stone; rub it when you feel anxious, worried, or afraid

Eat cheese with crackers; try adding honey or meat to it (if lactose intolerant, maybe try fruit and Nutella)

Drink warm milk mixed with cinnamon and honey (or rich/flavorful herbal teas)

Stay hydrated; drink lots of water throughout the day

Learn about different grounding techniques; practice grounding regularly

Learn more about emotional regulation techniques; try to practice them when able

Allow yourself to feel your feelings; cry if you need to, it releases stress

Take a salt bath (DO NOT USE KITCHEN SALT; USE BATH SALTS!!!! DO NOT DO THIS EXCESSIVELY!!!!)

Take an herbal bath with relaxing herbs, such as lavender (I recommend using an herb strainer for your drain)

Have a stuffed animal hippocampus, eel, sea lion, or dolphin; have a stuffed animal fresh water fish (especially those that live in streams/rivers)

Have imagery of mountain streams/rivers, calm oceans, hippocampus, sea monsters (especially those that would be fun to ride), seafoam, milk, seashells, Sicily's coast, the Mediterranean Sea, or water-dwelling creatures (fresh or salt water)

Donate to/support ocean-focused organizations or organizations supporting water-dwelling life of any kind

Volunteer for organizations that support the ocean or local bodies of water

Learn about the ocean and its animals; learn about water-dwelling creatures in general

Visit any points where one body of water flows into another, especially where a river flows naturally into the ocean

Visit a nearby ocean or stream

Create art using beach (or lake) sand, seashells, sea glass, or water-smoothed stones

Learn how to swim; go swimming in the ocean, a lake, or a pool (NOT ALL LAKES ARE SAFE TO SWIM IN!!!)

Stand barefoot in a stream or at the ocean's shore (please practice river/stream safety)

Engage in water sports; play water games (water guns, water balloons, water slides, etc.)

Engage in activities that calm/soothe you (reading, drawing, meditating, taking a walk, etc.)

Take a shower/bath at the end of a tough day; imagine cleansing yourself of all the things you found unpleasant about the day

Try water-based arts and crafts, such as watercolor or tea painting c:

Collect treasures you find buried within beach/lake sand (gemstones, jewelry, shells, rocks, coins, etc.)

-

This is my list of discreet ways to worship Galatea! I may add more in the future. For now, I hope someone finds this helpful! It is shockingly hard to find any information on Galatea worship, so I genuinely hope this can give her worshippers a bit of relief. Take care! 🩵

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

[cry4mina]

Take Me Back To Eden - Are You Really Okay? - Part 6.5

(Mina x gn!reader)

Take Me Back To Eden Series Page

Word Count: 7k

Angst/Fluff/I don’t know what to call this

Summary: This takes place at the end of place after reader passes out in Part 6! Please read that for context! This is also in FIRST PERSON (gasp!) from Mina’s perspective! See what Mina sees at the end of *THE* scene and some of the consequences of Nayeon’s actions.

TW: Guns, violence, abuse, sex/mentions of sex, medical stuff and lemme know if I miss anything! (I so did)

A/N: We are experimenting a little bit on this one with first person pov! Thank you to @2wiceasnice9 for making these gifs for this! I appreciate it very much 🖤

Thank you guys for reading as always! Ask/Dms always open! 🖤 Love yall, have a great day!

—

“Nayeon, you can’t do this!” Oh my god, she’s really going to shoot me. Y/n is on the floor bleeding out right in front of both of us and she’s going to fucking shoot me?!

Panic ices my veins as Nayeon opens her mouth to reply. Tears are filling my eyes and I can’t seem to blink them away fast enough. I hear Nayeon hit the floor, shouting out and the gun skidding out of sight.

Nayeon’s rage is heard but no longer seen, the sounds of struggling bouncing off the walls from behind the desk. Hearing Y/n’s grunts of pain make me nauseous and panicky. A hefty sinking feeling that weighs me down, physically trying to slow me while I come up with a plan to stop everything around me.

If I want to put a stop to this, I need that gun.

Now.

Seeing a glint from the metal on the edge of the room against a baseboard, I race over to pick it up.

In my race to turn around I see Y/n getting the shit beat out of them on the ground. Nayeon gets up, scanning the floor to try and find the gun that was already in my hands.

I don’t want to do this! God, I really don’t want to fucking do this! Deep breath in, exhale slowly, finger around the trigger and…

The shot louder than any sound I’ve ever heard, reverberating the ache in my heart harder as the scene before me unfolds in slow motion and deafening silence. Nayeon mouth opens and face turns red, reflecting anguish when her knees hit the floor. She coddles her abdomen, mask contorting from hatred, to pain in the blink of an eye.

I drop the gun and immediately run over to Y/n. She’s bleeding all over the floor, I cup the back of her head to try and halt the loss of her life force but I’m so worried it’s already been too much spilled, the puddle of blood growing larger with passing seconds.

Y/n is so disoriented, I can barely catch her attention. Pulling her head into my lap, trying to talk to her to keep her here but she keeps looking at me with fluttering eyes. I can’t even hear my own voice, crying out for her without even an echo in my head.

I can’t hold myself together anymore, my tears start to fall endlessly down my cheeks. I can’t lose her. Even in such a short time, I’ve grown to truly care for this human that lays in my lap, bruised and bloodied.

The look of hope beaming through her eyes in an attempt to focus on me. My heart cracks just a little more. Someone had to have heard the gunshots. Someone had to call for help, right?

“Y/n! Y/n! Look at me, it’s going to be okay! We are going to get you ou-”

A heavy jolt of pressure slams into my chest.

Air ripped from my lungs at a pace that’s indescribable.

Unable to even hear my heart beating in this deafening silence, my eyes water and my breathing tries to regulate but hyperventilating was the only response my body had.

I look up and see Nayeon with her hand over her wound, slouched in the corner of the room with the gun pointed right at me.

At…me?

Y/N’s body starts to vibrate in my arms, I look down for a split second to see them screaming in agony. The thick crimson liquid drips down my torso rapidly when it registers what’s happened. That’s where the burn starts. A stinging, fiery, gut wrenching blaze of panic that drench the tension in something that can only be explained as pure terror. Nausea and sweat are immediate following the outpour of blood.

My breathing picks up rapidly, my body finally catching up with my brain and trying to save itself. I keep my hand on the back of Y/n’s head, and bring my other up to cover my own wound. Watching as Nayeon keeps her eyes on the scene unfolding, a grimace on her face when Y/n passes out in my arms.

“Mina, you should be happy!” mockingly loud, spat at me through the ringing of my ears.

“At least she won’t have to watch you suffer!” Nayeon brings the gun back up, pointing it right in my line of sight before her head swings to her right and she locks eyes with something behind me.

Nayeon’s eyes widened at the door that’s violently flying open. My hearing fades slowly back in. Turning my head towards whatever Nayeon was looking at, Jihyo storms in and is yelling and aggressively flailing her arms.

Jihyo?

What is she doing here?!

Confusion sets in, the blood spills from my chest, and it’s getting harder to breathe.

Jihyo continues to point when she looks over and sees the state of Y/N and I. Her eyes widened with pure terror and rage, storming over to Nayeon and attempting to grab the gun from her. Nayeon points the gun at Jihyo and kicks her legs out weakly, trying to keep Jihyo away from her.

“I don’t want to shoot you, Hyo! Baby, please!” Faintly heard through the ringing of my eardrums trying to reset.

“LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE, NAYEON! The police are already on their way, I told them everything about your plan!” Jihyo snatches the gun from her. She’s absolutely bawling her eyes out in disgust at how far Nayeon was willing to go.

My vision starts to blur leaving light trails behind every thing that moves. Nayeon stands and lunges at Jihyo, throwing punches and kicking her, trying to reach for the gun again.

“Why would you FUCKING tell them?! I thought you were loyal! I thought you loved me!” Nayeon screeches in a fit of rage, mustering every ounce of energy she can to wrestle Jihyo to the ground.

My body starts swaying back and forth. I'm losing the will to stay awake. I look down at Y/n, passed out in my arms. Her breathing is shallow.

I have to keep my eyes open for her.

I start coughing harshly, tasting the blood that is spewing out of my mouth, coating my tongue in an iron laced flavor. The taste of defeat is present in the moment, if I’m coughing blood…that mean that the bullet is probably in my lung…I’m going to drown if I don’t pass out from the blood loss first.

I’m trying my best to keep pressure on my chest and on the back of Y/n’s head but my strength is wavering far too much to be successful in both.

A warm hand on my back that has a sense of urgency startles me. Attempting to focus, I look up to see Momo bawling her eyes out next to me. Her hand flies over mine to put more pressure on my bullet wound.

Momo is trying to understand everything happening around us, eyes frantically trying to absorb everything one by one. The bullet hole in my chest, Jihyo and Nayeon fighting it out on the floor, Y/n’s bloodied state, and then right back to her hands, that are now covered in my blood.

“How did you know we were here?” I choke out between shallow, hoarse breaths.

“Jihyo called me on her way here. I was on the phone with her when I heard the first shot.”

My head feels too heavy to hold up. I slouch a little, swaying and trying to keep my eyes open and the pressure tight when a loud smack startles me and Momo both.

Both of us looked up immediately to see Jihyo shaking her hand in pain, knuckles bloodied, and Nayeon trying to stand back up but struggling to stand on her own two feet.

Nayeon tackles Jihyo to the floor again, large hands around her neck, tensely squeezing our leader's throat. Jihyo is trying everything in her power to pry Nayeon’s fingers off her throat, gasping and tugging at her digits, trying to hit Nayeon but nothing would remove her.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I couldn’t end up with you. You just aren’t Y/n.” Nayeon hisses above Jihyo before lifting her head by her neck and slamming it into the ground.

Momo stands up to try and come to Jihyo’s defense, ready to defend her and help her get Nayeon subdued until the police arrived.

A bang shatters every reality between what should have happened and what did happen.

Colors wash out of my sight when I see how Momo freezes in front of me, unmoving in a statuesque fashion, breath being held in a death grip.

I call out to her, barely hearing my own voice when her body shudders, turning away and bringing her attention back to me and y/n. I can see and hear her sobs in whispers and grey wash.

Looking over to where the struggle happened, Jihyo is still laying flat on her back sobbing with Nayeon on top of her, too still for comfort.

“Momo…what happened?” I squeak out.

Her eyes are lifeless. Someone who has just witnessed something horrific squatted before me, hands shaking, struggling to apply pressure to my chest and unable to look me in the eyes.

“Why did you do this?…why?” Jihyo cries out through sniffles and rage filled tears.

The clunking sound of someone rolling into the floor catches me off guard, watching Jihyo stand. She’s drenched in blood and making her way over to me.

“Momo…” I croaked with the last bit of my energy, when my vision started to fade to black.

“Stop…Y/n’s blee-…”

The last thing I felt was my back hitting the floor and coldness.

—

Everything is hazy and unfamiliar for a moment, lucidity is not something my brain feels like it’s familiar with. I can’t tell if my eyes are closed but I feel cold. Prickling in my skin does nothing but annoy as a rush of chemicals tells my body it’s okay to be okay.

It’s going to be okay, right?

The burning sensation I can’t quite pinpoint eases rapidly after the sharp stick in the divot of my arm. The voices I hear are unfamiliar, except one. The tone brings comfort, but I couldn’t tell you who it was or what they are to me. All I know is this clouded darkness behind my eyes.

I fall into what feels like sleep. Calm, quiet, almost nurturing in the way of comfort. It envelops me completely. What a joy to feel something other than fear and pain.

Just calm.

I hope she’s okay.

A loud slam of something metal around me brings me into a state of conscience that I have never felt, shifting me into something recognizable and familiar. The darkness in my eye lids slowly fades into warm lighting, laughter and playfulness is heard through out the room I find myself in.

I’m at Jihyo’s house?

How did I get here?

“Oh my GOD! Baby, what are you doing here?!” Nayeon screams and runs out the front door.

Baby?…What is happening?

Y/n and Nayeon walk in, hand in hand. Smiling at each other and everyone is running over to meet the girl that Nayeon has been gushing about. I feel a pang of jealousy in my stomach. Y/n would never do this to me, after what Nayeon did.

Trying to stand to confront them both, I can’t force my body to move.

Wait…

This is the party where we met for the first time.

One of my favorite memories.

She’s sitting there quietly and I just can’t help but watch her take everything in. Her energy is so warm. So peaceful.

I mirror her, silently taking her in, watching her body language, watching how she is with the other members. Politely listening to others speak about their individual interests. I see her eyes shift to me.

“Mina, I know we actually have some hobbies in common! You like legos and video games too, right? Minecraft is what Nayeon told me.” quizzically from across the way.

I can’t believe this is who Nayeon was with. This is not what I pictured at all. Usually she dates obsessive fangirls that she can use and throw away when she’s done, but this person she has just introduced us all to…was nothing like that. She was kind, considerate, very good looking, and someone who brought life into a conversation.

The first of a few conversations, usually that she started. I was always too nervous to speak to her without her prompting it, though I desperately wanted to. I was and am so fascinated and intrigued by the fluttering in my stomach with every word spoken in that angelic voice.

Faces start distorting when I come to the conclusion that this must be a dream.

I must be dreaming.

The walls drop and everything snaps to darkness. My legs whisking me forward trying to find some sense of direction when I blink, I’m in a hallway? Where am I? And then I see her.

Walking down the same hallway laced in gray paint, the embodiment of sunshine, the light in this monotone building. Y/n walks right past me and offers up a small smile. A soft “Hey Mina. It’s so good to see you.” And a somber wave in my direction, the gentle tears streaming down her cheeks, I remember this…

The corridor zips out from underneath me, shrinking in the distant void to a mere sparkle. I’m alone in the darkness again. Why did I just hop from a memory to another memory…?

The sound of yelling brings be to another familiar place. Half warm, half ice. The energy here was a weird sense of home, comfortably uncomfortable.

I’m at Y/n and Nayeon’s apartment…the girls are in the living room but Nayeon and Y/n are nowhere to be seen. The music is just loud enough to muffle the shouting in the other room but I’m close enough to the door to hear it.

“Fine! Do whatever you want, Nayeon!”

“What do you mean? You’re supposed to come with us!”

“I don’t want to be around you, so you go! Do whatever you want, you’re going to anyway!”

The door opens, Nayeon steps out and I see Y/n hunched over in a chair with her head in her hands, body shivering, obviously holding back sobs. Nayeon closes the door quickly to avoid the detection of the fight.

Making eye contact with me as she spins around, I smile at her and pretend I didn’t see. Y/n needs her right now, and she’s just going to leave with us? What kind of a partner are you?

The sound of her cracking open a beer can throws me forward, through a sliding glass door.

I’m on a balcony? I can hear the girls inside laughing and having a good time. A sniffle rings out against the laughter in a contrast that makes my stomach sink.

Looking to my left, I see Y/n sitting with her back against the wall, curled into herself, elbows resting on her knees and hands covering her obviously crying face.

My heart breaks in that moment, in a way it didn’t the first time. In a way I didn’t know was possible. Just as I did in the memory, I sit next to her in silence. The memory wouldn’t allow me to change it’s already pathed out course, this moment I would never change.

She looks up at me when our shoulders touch, eyes red and swollen.

“Oh! Mina…Hey!. Sorry, I’m okay. Just…uh…having a bad day.” through the tears that descend down her soft cheeks.

“Are you really okay?” I wish I could say more. I know she’s not okay. I’ve known for a while but it’s not my place to tell this person I barely knew to leave her partner. It seems like Nayeon has manipulated Y/n into thinking that what was happening between them was healthy.

Super sweet love bombing.

Calm conversations with carefully chosen words to belittle, betray, and knock down.

Nayeon’s perfectly crafted nightmare of subtle abuse was so laced in other tastes that it was almost impossible to spot from any perspective, you had to be paying attention very very closely to see it. It makes sense why she lost her mind when she did. The plan falls apart when the object of your manipulation realizes they have free will, or you get too sloppy and they flat out leave.

She stops moving, frozen in the question. The pain behind her eyes sears my heart in ways unexplainable. How I wish I could take that pain away from her.

Y/n leans her head on my shoulder, tears stop falling momentarily. Her body relaxes in a way I was unfamiliar with before…was she always this comfortable around me?

A knock on the slider blends with the sound of something being thrown across the room that materialized right in front of me.

Suddenly, I’m in Japan for our group interview, walking in on Jihyo and Nayeon having a very heated conversation.

“What am I supposed to do? If the public finds out…the company will have a fit!” Nayeon is in tears, fists bawled and red in the face. Jihyo is holding her, rubbing her back in a soothing manner. Her hand glides up Nayeon’s spine in a very…intimate…way.

“Don’t worry, honey.” swiping a tear gently off Nayeon’s cheek, the loving look in her eyes was something I’d never seen them share. I had never seen Jihyo react this way to anyone’s tears like that, not even Sana.

“We can figure it out, okay? We can make a plan for when Y/n and you talk and keep our story strai- Hey, Mina!” Jihyo jumps back from Nayeon, seemingly nervous about what I’ve seen.

“…is everything okay?”

“Yes, Nayeon and Y/n got into a fight…they’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” Jihyo assured me, though at the time, I didn’t know what I was hearing in that conversation. Nayeon’s glare at me was enough to speak volumes.

She must’ve always known my fascination with Y/n.

“Alright girls, I’ve got a plane to catch back home…are you going to be okay, hon- I mean unnie?”

A freudian slip.

“Honey.” said out loud, just like when I heard it for the first time and again, without my own free will.

Nayeon scowls at me, Jihyo is shocked I said anything and I’m not so confused about what was happening here anymore. At the time I had not realized how close they were, or what was transpiring between them. I can still hardly believe it, even with proof.

The sound of footsteps towards me sends me to memory, turning into my own steps while I pace on the phone with Momo, talking about how Nayeon and Y/n have broken up and what Nayeon did to her.

The upset that all the information she is telling me over the speaker floods me with upset. A rage unseen by most, even hearing it a second time causes me to seethe. An innocent person, broken by the hands of someone unworthy.

Little did I know how broken she would actually get. I thought maybe I could help put the pieces back together, I never imagined it would turn into what it did…

“Hey, Momo, will you send me Y/n’s number? I’d like to check on her.” I still feel the nervousness behind the question along with the cheerfulness of seeing her again.

Even if this broken record moment in my brain is just a figment, it’s making me feel the same way, almost layered in a sense. The before feeling, and the after feeling.

If you really think about it, memories are just mental photobooks. Bottles of feelings and images contained for when you hear a sound, smell something familiar, or are around a specific person that makes your heart scream in agony at the sheer amount of love that seeps into every orifice you have when in their presence.

I am simply living in them.

“Sure, I’m sure she would love to hear from you, Mina.” replied when the phone in my hand vibrates. The text Momo sent has a contact labeled “Y/nnie” I can’t help but chuckle at the cute nickname again. I watch myself, from my own eyes, save it and not change the name.

I hesitate to call, the worry of if she would agree to hang out with me sits on my stomach again. I can do this, I know I can…Okay okay, here we go.

Reliving the excited feeling of calling her for the first time was less excruciating this time, the phone ringing until I heard her yell through the speaker.

“Can you stop calling me? I obviously don’t want to talk to you.” the tone heavy with annoyance, I remember thinking this was a bad time to call.

“..Y/n?” the hesitation when she realizes that I wasn’t the person she assumed I was adorable. Small notes of confusion in her silence was something I wish I could have witnessed sooner.

“Oh…uhm, sorry…I thought this was Jihyo. I don’t have this number saved in my phone…”

“That’s alright” I giggled, feeling a little awkward just as I remember.

“It’s Mina.”

“Mina?”the shock in her voice was noticeable, voice pitched up, and I could visualize her brows furrowing.

“Momo told me what happened and I asked for your number… I hope that’s okay.” the sounds of the call change drastically, going from crystal clear to a little hazy and to the sound of squeaky brakes.

“Yes, that’s totally fine…uhm, sorry, I’m…a little all over the place right now.”

“I know we don’t really know each other too well but…uhm, I know we have some common interests and that you could probably use a friend right now…so I figured I would call and see if you wanted to get a coffee or something…or maybe just sit on the couch and play videogames or…  something.” I really should’ve thought about what I was going to say before I called her.

“That sounds…really nice. I’d love to. Would you…want to text me your schedule for the next week or two and we can plan it from there?” My heart flutters again when I hear the sound of her smile beaming through the phone.

“Sounds good, I’ll text you.” hanging up before I got too giggly on the phone. I wasn’t trying to be weird about it to her…I just wanted to get to know her and be around her warmth again.

The sound of my phone locking sends me to her front door, 2 coffees in hand. A deep breath before the door opens. I was so nervous to see her and a little worried about the anxiety that she had been feeling.

The crack of the door ushers me inside and I offer her the coffee she didn’t ask for. We curl up on separate couches and play video games together and just talk.

We have intellectual conversations about almost every topic we stumble upon, I see her back unclenching as the day goes on and I know that we both need to eat.

Heading to the Japanese cafe that was so close by we could walk, our hands brush against each other. To feel that all over again ethereal. Bursts of adrenaline, the flashes of cold, the fluttering of the butterflies, the way it ignited something in me. I was meant to hold that hand.

“These shops seem cool, maybe we should come back another day and explore them.” My ears are burning at the question and the overwhelming tension I feel inside myself about her. I do hope we can go back to those shops someday.

We ordered sake and I asked her if I could order food for her. Paying attention to what she said when we spoke earlier when I was describing the food my mother makes, it seemed like it would be a fun idea.

I ordered the food in Japanese so the meal would be a surprise when it arrived at the table. The way she looked at me when I did was absolutely adorable, seemingly nervous now- scratching the sides of her fingers.

Reaching my hand out, I lay it on hers. Her shoulders relax and her jaw unclenches, our eyes are locked and I’m swooning. Even in a nervous state, this celestial being in front of me was devastating to my heart.

The way the emotions flickered in her eyes and on her face were telling of the last person who held this hand and the damage she left behind.

I touched her without permission, my hand retracted rapidly as I apologized. The food arrives in the middle of her trying to tell me why she reacted the way she did, cutting off the conversation all together.

She notices the similarities in our plates, asking me if we got the same thing. I tell her I remembered the little details from what she used to eat when she came to the studio, so I took off what she didn’t like and had them rearrange things.

She tells me the entire story of what happened with Nayeon over the food that night. I still can’t fathom the type of human that could hurt someone so tender.

The clinking of the plates after we finish our meal puts me in the cafe, paying for the bill. I thanked the lady at the podium and turn to walk out the front door when I see them.

Nayeon is outside with Jihyo, trying to throw herself at Y/n, what the hell is she doing here? I get so angry thinking about the pain that she’s gone through and with a little liquid courage from the sake, I take my stance next to Y/n and grab her hand.

“Are you ready to go, my love?” I make sure to raise my voice a little so that Nayeon and Jihyo can hear what I’ve said. I refuse to let her try to bully Y/n into submission. There will be no opportunities for that, at least not with me around.

“You can’t be serious right now, Y/n! After last night, are you on a date with Mina? A member of my group? Do you not have your own friends to filter through? Did I not satiate you enough? …Maybe we should’ve gone one more round.”

Nayeon is absolutely floored, so mad that she’s here with me. Seeing it all play back in my mind's eye, I should’ve noticed the signs. I should’ve seen what was going to happen. Maybe I could’ve protected her.

Wait…did she say a date?

I mean…I guess this is a date…I never thought about it like that. I wonder how Y/n felt when Nayeon said that…I know now how she feels about us, but I can’t help but wonder what was going through her head while we were here.

Jihyo is silently crying and getting back into the car but I don’t think anyone else notices. While I view her as a huge part of the problem, I can’t help but feel bad for her. Look at her standing there so uncomfortable she can barely even function.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her from now since you can’t satiate her, apparently.” I wink at Nayeon and lead Y/n away from this mess.

A sneeze places me on Y/n’s couch with her wrapped around me, cuddling into me with her hand on my torso. My heart is full like this. I hope to experience more of moments like these with her.

My body jolts from her pushing down on me, gasping for air in a way that’s rushed and eager. She’s immediately up crying and pacing back and forth in the living room. A panic attack happening before my eyes, I spring into action and comfort her the best I can.

Y/n parts from me, stripping her hoodie off so she’s just in a sports bra. I’m attempting to be respectful about not staring at her half naked but having the hardest time with it. I just want to give her everything she deserves.

I catch her by her wrist as she paces, pulling her into my arms and telling her she’s safe. Y/n pulls back, looking me in the eyes from mere inches away. I can feel her breath against me, I just want to lean in and press my lips on hers when she scoots in a little closer to me.

I take this as permission, meeting her in the middle and the lightning that shoots through me is so powerful that all my nerves burn with the essence that is Y/n. Trying to keep things calm but she starts to lean in harder so I take control.

I push her onto the couch and once my hands hit the couch, the glass shatters and we are surrounded by police and clothed again. The police are questioning my poor Y/n. I wish she could catch a break.

The click of the officers pen and I’m taping up the window for her, turning around to see her completely lost in thoughts with glass in her foot.

The snap of the first aid kit brings us back to her bed, where she’s telling me she feels safe and my heart is racing to tell her all the feelings that have built up.

Next thing I know, I’m between her legs tasting the slick off her folds. She’s moaning underneath me and the sound is godly. I just want to devour her but this isn’t the moment. That will come soon enough. Right now, this is about her.

What she wants.

What she needs.

Cumming into my mouth, the sounds are that of angels singing to me and only me in that moment. I wrap my fingers around her throat and squeeze a little just to hear her moan for me again.

Leaning down to kiss her again, when our lips part I’m on the phone with the police.

“Hello, we’ve called to update you on the case that you filed last night. We’ve arrested Park Jihyo. She admitted guilt when confronted about the vandalizing of house.”

“What?” I still can’t believe she would have taken the fall for Nayeon like that.

When I hit end on the phone call, I spin around to Y/n telling me to lay in her lap and I happily do so. There’s so much comfort in her touch, I can’t explain the calm. It’s calmer than the void at the beginning of this weird live action trip down memory lane. I sink into a deep sleep while she plays with my hair.

When my eyes open, I’m on the phone with Momo. At this point, I’m just letting this memory train whisk me away. I’m not going to question why this is happening.

She’s wondering where I am, I remember the banquet and then I’m throwing my shoes on by the front door when Y/n asks me on a date…an official date. I’m consumed with joy. Finally, Ill get to show her what love actually looks like.

When the door shuts behind me, I’m suddenly at Momo’s house getting ready with her and Dahyun.

“Soooo…you and y/n, hm?” Momo pokes at me to get more information.

“Well…I think so. These past 2 days have been…kind of magic? Even with all the crazy stuff that’s been happening with Nayeon.” I want to shout how excited I am from the rooftops but my body won’t allow me to.

“I really hope yo- wait, what did you say?” The confusion on Momo’s face is laced in concern as she stares at me, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.

I tell her everything. The confrontation at the restaurant, the way Nayeon called Y/n that morning, the rock through the window, and lastly Jihyo taking the fall.

Momo and Dahyun both are stunned by this new information, jaws on the floor. I just nod my head at them, trying to not think about the negatives of this because I have a date with Y/n and the closeness we have has made me so smitten.

“Wait…you were with Y/n this morning? I thought you had plans yesterday…?” Dahyun is confused about the story she has just overheard.

“Uhm…yes. She didn’t want to be alone last night so I stayed with her.” I admit quietly, hoping for no further questions. Not that I don’t want to talk about it, but it feels so fresh.

“…did you sleep on the couch? Or?” Dahyun is smiling so big at me that I can’t help but laugh.

Momo doesn’t even try to stop her from asking questions because she’s curious as well, it’s not like Y/n gave her any information while she was on the phone with her.

“I did not sleep on the couch.”

They both gasp at this. They aren’t stupid. They know what happened.

“Wait did you guys have se-”

“I’m going to go call Y/n and see if she’s on her way.” I step out of the room and dial the phone, stepping outside to get some privacy.

When the door clicks behind me, I’m blasted into the memory of her crying in my arms because Nayeon showed up to her apartment and bombarded her, yet again.

I tell her to stay with me tonight after she expresses she doesn’t want to see Nayeon again. Y/n announces she doesn’t want to impose and I just kiss her to shut her up.

I pull on her blazer to keep her close and feel her hands travel up to my neck. I’m going to take her here.

Right here.

I untuck her shirt, run my fingers along the edge of her waistline when the door flings open.

“Hey, Mina did you talk wi- OH?!” Of course, it’s Momo interrupting the moment. How embarrassing.

“Sorry to interrupt! Should I go back inside or?” Dahyun sneaks out behind Momo through the door and shuts it.

The sound of the lock latching sends me to the table we are all sat at, eating dinner and making light conversation. I’m focused on Y/n, who is toying around with her food and not really present in the moment.

Leaning over to her, I make sure to look Y/n in her eyes when I ask her if she’s okay the first time. A small nod of the head, I lean back into my chair, and continue eating my dinner. I know she’s lying, it’s written in the way her eyes are tracing every detail of the table and avoiding mine.

Maybe she just doesn’t know how apparent it is. I take another few bites, leaning in one more time.

“Are you su-”

“I get that we aren’t together but can you stop doing whatever this-” moving her hands around in a dramatic fashion. “- is, in front of me? Kind of rude, don't you think?”

You are kidding me. I can’t believe she just said that in front of everyone. We are not supposed to be the focus tonight.

“Nayeon, not now.” Momo chiming in like she already knew what any sane person would be thinking watching this all play out. More annoyed than I will allow myself to display, especially after knowing what was going to happen after this.

Especially now, knowing exactly what Nayeon was capable of.

“You think she can do for you what I did? You think she can be who you need her to be for you?! WE are supposed to be here together, not you and Mina! Mina, of all people!” body language threatening and almost violent in nature.

Me? Of all people? What the *fuck* does that mean?!

Everyone around us is completely in shock, with the exception of those who knew what Nayeon was, who Nayeon could be. I see some avoidance from a few of the members, not wanting to encourage her or draw attention to the situation.

Reliving this makes me just as enraged as it did the first time.

“I bet she doesn’t fuck like I do or do you need another reminder of how I fuck you?”

Oh, good god. I still can’t believe she said that out loud for everyone at this table and around us to hear. This is not the fucking place for this.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t want to work on thi-”

“ENOUGH!”

Boom.

I take another bite of my meal, before setting my utensils down. Looking over at my stunning date, making sure to make eye contact. The fury behind my eyes is enough to prompt her to do what I so desperately wanted to.

“Nayeon, why don’t you tell everyone where Jihyo is?” the malice inflected in the statement sends chills down my spine. This assertive dominant part of her that I was meeting in full form for the first time…I was happy she was spending the night at mine.

I feel the way the warmth fills me, starting between my legs and creeping up as she puts this vicious bitch in her place.

“Y/n…I- I don’t know what you mean. H- How should I know?” That’s right. Panic.

“Oh, sure you do!...Weren’t you with her last night?” Everyone is staring at her now, confused and concerned.

“Wait-” Tzuyu starts and then everything is silent. I look around, waiting for the room to change to the memory I know is next.

Everyone around me is frozen in place, unwavering in complete and total stillness. I stand and fix my dress, this is the first time that I have control over my body since this montage of memories started.

Walking towards the room.

The room.

The room where everything happens.

The room where Y/n gets hurt.

The room where I get shot.

The room where Jihyo ends Nayeon’s life…

I step in with no hesitation, before I realize that the entirety of the room is pitch black and there is no floor.

I fall.

Dropping through a tunnel of nothingness, just trying to catch anything that will keep me from descending into this pit of darkness. The void calls and I’ve returned against my will again.

A halt jerks me out of the dissociated state that I found myself in. How long did I fall for? How long have I been in this state?

A small pinhole of light shines through the ether, steadily growing and getting brighter.

Is it getting closer?

“Mina?” An echoed whisper reverberates every bone in my body. Shaking me violently, the void cracks, shining the beams of another realm through the shattering façade around me

“Mina…darling, you have to wake up.”

Y/n?

Dull beeps pipe through the whispers and into my brain. My throat feels hot, why doesn’t my throat feel hot?

“Mina, please…”

The light is blinding now as a vision of my parents shine through, my eyes flutter open and try to focus on their faces when the smell of hospital breaks all my senses.

The tube down my throat keeps me from speaking, my parents are crying in happiness that I’m awake but the tears I cry are of fear.

My eyes search helplessly, unable to communicate what I’m looking for.

Who I am looking for.

My father notices my panic, trying to calm me when the pain starts. The same burn in my chest from earlier. I try to look down at my chest at my wound when the nurse comes in and greets me.

“Mina! Welcome back! Your family missed you!” cheered through a beaming smile.

I start weakly mimicking writing with my hand, looking around the room for someone to understand what I’m asking for.

My father grabs the whiteboard at the end of the bed with my medical information on it, wiping it clean and holding it next to me. He uncaps the marker with his teeth and spits it out onto the floor, wrapping my hand around it so that I can write.

“Mina, we are going to pull the tube from you now to make sure that lung is functioning the way that it’s supposed to, okay?” the nurse chimes in as I’m writing.

The doctor comes in, trying to usher my father to the side so he can do what he needs to. I grip my dad’s forearm to signal him to stay in place.

“Please, she’s been asleep for so long, can you just give us a moment?”

I write the last few letters quickly before the doctors get to work, I watch my parents brows furrow at what I’ve written. My father takes the whiteboard out of the room, my mother staying with me for the remainder of the removal of the tube.

Gasping for air, my body is trying to recalibrate to the new surroundings. To reality.

“Where…” my voice is gravely and horse, barely coming out in a whisper.

“Is…” I swallow, trying to build up my strength to say the last word I needed to.

“Y/n?”

Thanks for reading! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[jd-vance-official]

Not JD Vance here, just the intern they hire to run this account: I am a transgender person. For several years, I hemmed and hawed about changing my legal name or amending my birth certificate with a new sex marker... but I didn't. I could see the writing on the wall in the future. As far as documents are concerned, I am not transgender, which is obviously not true to my identity and presents its own challenges, namely safety and healthcare, but it has also proved extremely helpful to myself in the past few weeks.

Increasingly, there are many trans people in the U.S reporting that they are not allowed to have passports with their new sex on them because they are trans, yet simultaneously not allowed to have passports with their old sex on them because then, the passports wouldn't match their birth certificates. If you didn't have a passport already (valid for 10 years), people in this limbo may be blocked from getting one now. But even then, there are fears that existing passports can be revoked.

In the US, birth certificates and photo ID like driver licenses are issued by the states, while passports are issued by the feds. I live in a mixed-but-blue (democrat) leaning state, as do majority of Americans. If I had elected to change my state-issued docs to reflect my preferred sex, as is perfectly legal and accommodated in my state, I would now have extreme difficulties because of the federal regulations.

I absolutely don't mean to say that I am better than anyone, smarter for having this foresight. Instead, this is all to highlight that there are deep inequities in the united states, and this issue is a clear example of how state sovereignty is being threatened in the United States. I would go further to argue that these inequities prove that the state-and-federal separation model is, ironically, undemocratic and directly fails people globally. But I digress.

It's not just trans people in the United States with these issues. It is Black people. Disabled People. People on government poverty assistance. Undocumented people. Some states allow undocumented people, people who are in the US "illegally", to have a driver's license! Some states don't. You can imagine how not being able to operate a vehicle legally -- in the guns, burgers, and car capital of the world -- might pose a disastrous outlook on some families.

To all international onlookers of the United States fuckery right now, please know that we are scared and many of us genuinely believe it is unsafe here. Some of us cannot get passports and cannot have safe passage out of our country. Please help us fight this.

Girl with a pending passport application was denied.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/travel/2025/01/24/trump-order-passports-x-gender/#:~:text=According%20to%20Rubio%E2%80%99s%20email%3A%20%E2%80%9CGuidance%20on%20existing%20passports%20containing%20an%20X%20sex%20marker%20will%20come%20via%20other%20channels.%E2%80%9D

Many are concerned current passports will be voided. The White House may say that the ruling only affects new passports and not existing passports - The White House has been known to lie. Regulation and law can be executive order-itized, as 47 has been happy to flex recently.

[beware-of-pity]

Sins of the father(s) IV

Masterlist

Previous chapter - Next

Bruce Wayne (Battinson) x Reader

Crossposted on Ao3

Summary:

When the silver spoon feeds well, it is hard to accept that we cannot have what does not want to be taken… unless the person is unaware of it. Sometimes, it’s better to come forward with what is left unsaid, instead of watching others slip from one’s fingers. 

. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐

Chapter IV: Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends (Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends)

Bruce felt guilty, as he often did. He carried the guilt of not being able to save his parents on that night in that dark alley, of being the sole survivor. People who knew him, close ones, like Alfred, Dory and you, knew that despite having his life spared, Bruce had not exactly survived that fate twilight. A changed man, he had come out of that crime scene, the ghost of a boy everyone knew he would never be again.

So much anger and guilt he internalised over his own existence that he can only let out when he fights the criminals he sees the face of the man who pointed that gun at him and his parents' faces.

But this, this was a new kind of guilt. Knowing that he had disappointed you, angered you because of the pain he was causing you, created a sting in his chest that he thought he would never feel.

He wanted, he truly did, to try to reach out during these past few days. When he had heard that you would host a luncheon with the members of the charity you managed in your father’s memory, he had wanted to go. Support you, be there for you, but to his dismay, he had to, of course, get hurt the night before on his patrol, ending with his entire torso bandaged and bedridden for two days. Alfred’s orders. He had wanted to send something, flowers, perhaps attached with a note filled with encouraging words, but in the limbo between sleep, which he had the opportunity to catch up on after so long, and those few moments he was awake, he had totally forgotten to ask Alfred to run this commission for him.

He wanted to beat himself up, his hands on the steering wheel of the Batmobile tightening around the leather as he gritted his teeth.

Idiot, what an absolute idiot he was. Could he ever do something right? In his entire life, was there something he was good at other than beating up criminals when blinded by his rage?

Cohesive arguments evaded him, his lack of emotional regulation truly getting to him. He prided himself on the idea that he had been able to control his emotions. But, there was something about you, something that drove him to believe he had not grown at all from when he was a young boy.

It’s like he returned to the boy he used to be, emotional and driven by his thoughts in all the wrong ways. Memories of a time he would rather forget in order to forge this new path forced him back right at the beginning. He could only imagine how hurt and angry you would truly be if you found out in just how much danger he was truly putting himself up to every night. What he could imagine, was the true disappointment you would then face him with. With other people, he could do as he pleased, be everything he wanted to be when you were not around, hiding behind someone he was not, but with you?

With you, he felt a sense of vulnerability; he could confide in you, and you would listen, try to comfort him, help him, and reassure him with sweet, shooting sweet nothings. You were like a rock, a pillar that he felt the need to rest upon, and it pained him just as much as it did you to push you away to keep you safe. The fear he felt at the thought of losing you to his foolishness was one he only felt once when he had lost his parents.

Women, he hated to admit, were kind of a mystery for him. He wasn’t well-versed in the art of love or such. The only time he thought himself somewhat in love was with a thrill-chasing street racer named Dorothy, better called Dex, which he had befriended during one of his summers back home from the boarding school you two attended. If he considered himself reckless now, he must have been a wild animal at seventeen when he would sneak out of the Wayne Tower with the first prototype of the bat mobile, racing strangers in the middle of the night, getting stopped by the cops as they pried upon young and reckless teenagers by hiding on a side road or in an alley, waiting for late-night joyriders breaking the speed limit….like him.

It was the first time he had come in such serious and close contact with a woman his age who wasn’t you.

Dex felt like a new adventure he was embarking on, especially during a time when he had begun to question himself about what he truly wanted in life, growing restless about his own reclusive behaviour. She was like a breath of fresh air, exactly like those fast and rushing drives he took about town. A summer he would remember well, even years down the line. A summer that he spent being the wild young man men his age would be, while you went on a leisure vacation about the Amalfi Coast with some other classmates you shared in common.

Dex was everything you were not, and you were everything Dex wasn’t, but he couldn’t lie and say he had not often tried to find you in Dex.

She was wild and reckless, just like he had been, and yet he tried at times to find your strictness and rationality in her. Dex brought out in him the thrill he had been seeking, the one he supposed every seventeen-year-old boy sought in the opposite sex, but his mind told him when to stop and not venture into those bad situations Dex eventually found herself, his mind doing so because you were not there to do so.

He spent his days on the phone with you, which were your nights because of the time difference, and his nights with Dex and their escapades with the group of people, mostly Dex’s friends, planned out for the night.

When you returned in September, practically glowing from the days spent under the warm sun of the Italian coast and asked about how he had spent his summer, he didn’t tell you about Dex or his newfound addiction to racing. Of course, minus those details, you told him he would have had more fun if he had just come with you all, to which he said he would next time….which he didn’t, but he had come to the Christmas party that was thrown that winter to compensate for knowing he would have to decline your offer again when you would later ask. Had it not been for you, he would have spent the entirety of it all standing awkwardly in an abandoned corner of the room.

He had felt foolish, embarrassed, with cheeks flushing a deep crimson, as you danced with him, a red Santa hat on his head, and you dressed as one of Santa’s helpers, just….a slightly more provocative helper. He averted the sight before him many times that night, usually by craning his head to the side or letting his eyes fall anywhere but your more than revealing cleavage…which he hated to admit he had thought about too many times the following days. Could he be blamed? He was a teenager engulfed in the flesh of youth. It wasn’t his fault you were practically all over him, and the fact that he had to carry you back to your room when you had gotten tipsy, complaining that your feet hurt because of the heels you wore, had not helped. He remembered the feel of your soft and warm skin against his shirt all too well, your soft snores that fanned his face as you slept the night away as he carried you, only after he had taken those darn heels off your feet. The Polaroid, taken by a girl he didn’t know, but he supposed you did, commemorated the night with its overall existence, immortalising the night into living memorabilia, instead of just his memory.

He thought he liked Dex, she made him feel speechless in her presence, like he didn’t know what to say, all his thoughts just vanishing, but you….everything he thought he felt for Dex just went with the wind when he first set his eyes on you again after so long.

He did not need this. He didn’t need old wounds and resurfacing emotions that would not help his vigilante work to resurface in the cold and passive man he had turned himself into.

Perhaps Vengeance didn’t….but as for Bruce, well….Bruce was another story.

Women liked him, and he liked them too, but over his early twenties, he never stayed too long to not form any attachments. The only constant one in his life had become you…

He didn’t want to admit it, but a part of him yearned for the comfort of your gentleness, which contrasted his cold and unwavering vigilante persona. It brought out in him a vulnerability he didn’t know he still possessed, one he hated feeling. He couldn’t allow himself any weakness, and you….you made him weak. He couldn’t afford to be weak, not when the worst time of the year was now upon him. In two days, it would be Halloween, and even though the news had predicted heavy rain, Bruce knew that a few drops of water would not stop the criminals from acting out or the streets from not being filled with people celebrating.

The nature of the city could not be stopped by anything, especially rain, which was why he needed to be out there, to fight against it and keep the innocent citizens wanting to only celebrate a fun and jolly holiday from getting in between the criminals’ plans and their own. 

He had thought about how to approach a possible reconciliation throughout the day after, though his mind shut everything down when he saw you on the TV beside Reál as you two walked out of the studio where the last debate between her and Mitchell had taken place in light of next week’s elections.

You smiled and waved at the cameras, who clamoured around you two to ask questions, to vulture deeper into the future that awaited this newfound coalition between the possible new Mayor of Gotham and the newest member of the City Council. Eloquently answering the questions as you went, you were able to evade them until you arrived at the car awaiting you before speeding off.

He had gone on his nightly patrol that night with an unusual sense of irrationality to him.

Robbery, theft, and assault were commonplace in the dark alleys of Gotham, yet that night, Bruce almost looked like he was seeking those things he hated most.

The next morning, the haze of the night had faded, but not the emotions he had carried from it. Tonight, more than ever, he needed ultimate concentration, and yet he almost found himself unable to do so. Frustrated by this, he spent most of the afternoon preparing for his patrol. Training, putting all he felt in the punches he delivered to the punching bag hanging in the Batcave. He had reduced his knuckles raw, almost frail to draw blood if he wanted, which he had to cover with bandages so as to not feel the discomfort of the sensitive skin rubbing against the leather of the gloves of his suit.

When he dipped his fingers in the black makeup he used to fill in the gaps that his mask could not, the coolness of the paste soothed his irritated skin, even as it stained him. As per routine, he went out first in incognito among the crowd dressed as the ‘Drifter’. The old, baggy and well-worn second-hand clothes he had thrifted came in hand when he wanted to blend among crowds, asserting the night, eyeing and studying his possible opponents. The clothes also hid the first layers of the bat suit he wore, the second layers, cape and mask, hiding in the backpack he carried on his back. He swerved the streets with his old bike, he obviously couldn’t go out and about with the Batmobile if he didn’t want to be recognised. He only ever took the car out when he truly needed it, for big cases, which had yet to come and had given him much time to work on it and its potency.

He had just turned one of the streets near Wayne Tower, speeding through the traffic, wanting to get out of the rich and industrial neighbour to head towards Dowton Island, the part of Gotham where criminals ran rampant since it included places like the Iceberg Lounge, under the watchful eyes of the Penguin and his associates, when he approached a sidewalk littered with cars and people hanging around the door of one those central stylised townhouses, surely a get together for the holiday.

He stopped on the side, watching the scene unfold before him, hiding behind a car on the opposite side of the road where the people were making their way inside the house. Fancy dresses, well-pressed suits, gelled and combed hair, shimmering jewels, polished shoes, masks of all kinds. Animals, doll-like ones, some painted and patterned like that Venetian carnival one you once brought him back to your trip there —it all screamed opulence.

Or shamelessness thought Bruce. They care not but for themselves, selfish people who have too much money to their name that they can count on or know what to do with. He watched from behind his full-face visor as another car came through the corner to stop just in front of the steps of the house. A man nearby brightened up at the sight and rushed towards the door of the vintage vehicle to help whoever was inside out of it. A feminine, manicured and well-cared-for hand, adorned by rings and bracelets, reaches out to grab into the one the man has just offered, closing its fingers around it.

Bruce’s eyes track the woman who steps out of the car; her back turned to him, but even with the fancy dress and all, he could still recognise you from anywhere.

Just like the others, it seems like you, too, had taken to dressing to what appeared to be the theme for this party. A black, trimmed, velvet dress, covered with a medieval cape, adorned with a shining, feathered, high collar. The mask, feathered and well-adorned, hid a good part of your face and gave away the animal you were dressed as. A raven, he supposed you fit the part, looking sumptuous and imperial like the bird, the train of your dress, feathered like the bird's tail, created a perfect illusion as you walked. In your gothic costume, you fit right into the art deco modernized stylization of the city. He wondered if the dress was part of some high-brand old collection, perhaps from the 1920s, they had lent you for the occasion. 

Like a doll, he mused, unconsciously, a sense of admiration in his thought

You always had an affinity for such social events, despite how you often complain about how many you were invited to. You were the social butterfly, even when you too were younger, the one frequently pulling him alongside you to wherever you went and looking at you, all dolled up. It’s not that you enjoyed being around people, but you had been conditioned since an early age into understanding that being part of an inner circle befitting your station would do you more good than bad. Your mother was a known socialite back in her younger days,just as his mother had been to a degree, and your father took more good from it than anyone expected, especially during his political campaigns.

Your mother had been a much-needed asset in gaining much of his popularity, reaching places of interest for your father’s cause, which, despite his intellect, he found himself a stranger to. She rouped people with her charms and wit, endearing them to her friendliness, especially other politicians and regimental wives. It seemed that for you, the apple had not fallen far from the tree. You implemented the best traits of both your parents on occasions like these, but even Bruce knew that you possessed both of their bad ones, too, just like he did. He sometimes asked himself where he got his temper, not remembering either of his parents’ possessing one themselves. Or maybe he had just been too young to take notice.

As if sensing being looked at, you turned to look in the direction you felt those eyes glaring holes at the back of your head, unknowingly meeting his, hidden away by the visor of his helmet.

He watched your brows furrow in confusion at who he could possibly be and for a man of his appearance to hang around such a neighbourhood when he did not seem to belong in it. Unknowingly to him, Bruce’s grip on the grips rubber of his bike’s handlebars. Your eyes narrow, slating as if to get a better look at him, for the stranger he presented himself as, to understand if you knew him, almost intrusively analysing him with your eyes as if you could look beyond and under his disguise. But before you could do more than that, the hand of the man who had helped you out of your vehicle, slithering on the small of your back, startled you out of your contemplative state.

Good, old Johnny, your date for tonight. Your friendship went back to your days in boarding school, and though for you he was just a friend, you always knew he wanted something more from you. He wasn’t exactly subtle in that regard, with his long glances and touchy hands. Too touchy and intrusive for your tastes. Bruce had noticed too how you didn’t seem all that reciprocant to his touch, the skin under your dress almost flinching out of reflex from the contact of his hand.

Your attention turned back to Johhny, leaving Bruce, not that you knew it was him, behind your forgotten thoughts. You had a dinner to attend, after all.

You smile politely to Johnny, who, in turn, beams down at you as you two begin to walk to the door of the house, his hand almost leading you there.

The display before him left Bruce completely blank, his insides churning, a burning ache filling his chest. When had he begun to wish to be the one at your side, the one whose hand was the one guiding you around as it rested around your waist? Was this mere jealousy? And, even so, he was confused about what he was jealous of. Was it just his protectiveness? He had often taken a sort of watchful eye over you; maybe it was his worry pulling at him to shove Johnny out of the way like he used to when they were young boys. He did know the man, after all, as he often drolled over you and trailed like a lost puppy whenever you two went, back in the days. Johnny knew very well to keep his act when Bruce was around, relegating to watching from afar rather than approaching.  Perhaps it was an understanding between men; they did seem to understand each other better than others after all, but Johnny had come to understand very well what Bruce’s eyes were implying most times. His dislike, his distaste, his lack of composure and demeanour were truly frightening in his eyes. Which was why he did not want you anywhere near him, wanting to protect you from men like Johnny as much as he could.

And now, busier than ever before, with his mind and thoughts divided between his personal and private life, it seemed that Johnny thought that with his noticeable absence, he could finally rise to the challenge.

Craven vermin.

Not being able to bear the sight any longer and what it fueled in him, Bruce lifts his feet off the ground and speeds off in the night. Going to dispel his emotions in the only way he knew.

Beating criminals.

He had found his perfect scapegoat in a gang that had seemed to round a lone stranger who had gotten off on the deserted platform of the train station. Eight skull-faced gang members against a defenceless man, and for what? The thrill of the chase? The want of fear in their opponent? Or was it because he had been an easy target? After all, how could one defend himself against eight men, clearly stronger than him in physics?

He had stopped them just before they could have caused more than necessary damage, for it seemed that whatever they were doing was a sort of initiation ritual for the newest and youngest entry of their group, who, in all fairness, did not seem too thrilled to be there or be part of what was going down, as he fled the scene after he had put the other seven down.

His movements had been fast and brutal, leaving no room for counterattacks or opposition from his opponents. He had snapped the arm of one, who presented himself as the leader of this organised fiasco and tased the neck of another, a scene he would revisit once he returned to the cave and pulled his recording contact lenses out of his eyes. The scene, he was sure, would be haunting as he watched the man fall and convulse on the ground. He had taken hits, too, but through his rage, he had bounced back every time. His terrifying skill kept the impacts of them from landing as if almost on auto-pilot, he proceeded to break off the others surrounding him like a machine.

Only when the station fell into the silence of the night once more, broken only by the gentle pitter patter of the rain, had his eye noticed the reflection on the wet ground. The bat signal, shining bright, in the sky.

Bruce looked up, wondering just how long it's been there, having lost all composure and awareness of his surroundings.

He could truly get in a rage when he wanted, couldn’t he? He just didn’t want to admit what it was that caused it.

He had met with Gordon, in the abandoned and unfinished skyscraper they utilised as their secret hideout, where he had been told the unimaginable.

Mitchell was dead.

He had been let in in the study where the body was found only because Gordon had made it so after he faced opposition from Officer Martinez. Were it for the line of cops filling the hall of the now gone Mayor’s manor, he surely would not have gotten that far within the first step of his boots near the property.

It had been a gruesome sight. Mitchell’s head was wrapped in grey duct tape, with red, angry letters spelling out ‘NO MORE LIES’. The sight entirely reminded him of what you had told him in your last conversation about them. His head had been mashed, but most of the blood he had lost had come from his severed thumb, cut when he was still alive, seeing the ecchymosis that had formed around the wound. Whoever the Killer was, they had made quite the showcase in sending the message they wanted.

Corruption and lies, corruption that had yet to be revealed as to what kind. No one believed Mitchell to be an innocent man, after all, no one had such a rise to power ethically and conventionally. There was something about Mitchell that both you and Bruce had suspected not to be genuine. It always rubbed you the wrong way how he had seemingly just been able to take over the city in such an easy way after your father was killed. Perhaps it was the bitterness in you, not yet over how your father could just be replaced by such an incompetent man, which you were right about, seeing as to how he had driven Gotham into becoming a cesspool in less than twenty years and three mandates as Mayor of the city. Bruce did often wonder just why he kept on being elected, again, and again, and again.

But to be deserving of such death? It made Bruce wonder as to what the killer was aware of that others were not.

Perhaps, he’ll get to find out soon.

AN: Finally entering the film's territory. We'll be following the events of the movie from now on, just prolonging them slightly to tell more of the story, but the storyline will remain the same. A week of pure chaos to write, yeppi. Also, I recently read the novella called 'Before the Batman: An Original Movie Novel' which is kind of supposed to be a companion prequel novel to the movie. It is not canon, Matt Reeves has not written or said that what's written in the story is canon to his universe, and even though, I, myself did not find it to be a particularly compelling read, I wanted to incorporate certain aspects I liked about it in this story. If you're not familiar with the events of the novel, the Batman Wiki has pages for every character and event in it, so be sure to check it out if you want to know more about what I talk about in the first half of the chapter.

[m0rkl]

The People We Become || Reverse AU || FiddAuthor

Hurray I have a name for this AU now! Please come yap with me more about this and the messy FiddAuthor relationship I'm about to describe

Fiddleford and Stanford's Relationship

After their initial falling out because of the portal and Bill, Fiddleford had told himself he was going to erase his memory of his entire partnership with Ford and go back to his wife and child. He promised Emma-May this would be the end and, were this the canon timeline, this would be the final use of the memory gun that really fries Fiddleford’s brain making him the ‘Old Man McGucket’ we see in canon.

But when Stanley falls into the portal and it blows up, Fiddleford notices the explosion and rushes to the lab instead. He ends up taking care of an unwell and confused Ford and not going back to Emma-May. He explains to her that Ford doesn’t have anyone else and Emma-May understands that, but she can’t have Tate expecting his dad to come home when Fiddleford simply won’t put them first. They agree to a divorce and that Fiddleford will stay out of their lives for a while, except for birthdays, holidays and the like.

Emma-May and Fidds have a good relationship nowadays, but Ford is very awkward around the family and has no interest in being a father figure to Tate. This is one of many points of conflict in Ford and Fidds relationship.

Early in their relationship, they had a lot of issues due to Ford being insensitive and getting frustrated with Fidds memory issues, but ended up going to couples therapy and having Ford learn how to assist Fidds through his memory lapse episodes and set up the house in a way that would be helpful to him.

They might be married but their relationship is far more complicated than at first glance.

Ford is ace-aro, but loves Fiddleford in his own way. He wants Fidds to be his companion for life, but it's not romantic love.

Fiddleford, however, is romantically in love with Ford and has to navigate the fact that Ford does not and will never want him in certain ways. Is it totally healthy? No! No it is not.

They sleep in separate bedrooms, but Fiddleford will sleep in Ford’s bed on occasion, especially if he’s had a memory lapse that day.

They’re legally married. Ford was the one who brought it up after gay marriage was legalized. He was very excited, but extremely unromantic about it as he thought it would be great for their tax situation and health care. Fiddleford was endeared, but a decade later is still sad they never had a proper wedding. Fiddleford loves referring to Ford as his husband or other pet names, but Ford almost exclusively called him Fidds or Fiddleford.

Fiddleford very much grounds Ford and reminds him how to be a human being rather than a work-machine. He gets him to eat regularly and sleep a semi-decent amount, as well as tries to help regulate him emotionally sometimes, even if he isn't always successful.

Ford challenges Fiddleford's creativity and they still work on inventions together, even after Ford starts turning more to writing. They go on adventures, chasing after the bountiful weirdness of Gravity Falls and save each other from various situations.

Over the years Ford is happy with their situation and Fiddleford is… happy? If a little unsatisfied. He knows Ford won’t love him the way he wants and Fidds desperately tries to convince himself he’s okay with how things are. But he is very much romantically in love with Ford while Ford cares about him and wants his company, but does not feel anything romantic towards him.He understands that Ford feels things differently and its not bad, but its not meeting all of his needs either. They both tell themselves this is fine when it's not really.

Everything comes to a head when eventually, Ford regains his memories and realizes what Fiddleford has been hiding from him all these years. 

They fight because in Fiddleford’s mind, he did this to save Ford from the portal and from himself. He knows Ford would have destroyed himself trying to save Stanley and put not only himself, but the whole world at risk opening it again.

Fiddleford tries to explain his point of view and how much he feels like he’s given and suffered for Ford over the years, but it goes unheard. Ford just is furious that he was lied to and likens Fiddleford to Bill, which isn’t wholly true, but devastates Fiddleford nonetheless.

While Ford settles Stanley into the house, Fiddleford goes to live with Tate, who does live in Gravity Falls.

Their break up causes some tension between Mabel and Dipper because Mabel is siding with Fiddleford and Dipper is siding with Ford. The twin’s aren’t entirely looking at the situation as black and white, but they do pick sides.

Mabel tries really hard to bring them back together through a series of ‘parent trap’-like hijinks, but it doesn’t really turn out like she hopes. However, Stan talks to Ford and they discuss the long years where Ford didn’t have anyone to rely on by Fidds. Stan also talks a little bit of sense into Ford and helps him realize that sometimes Ford lets his anger get the better of him and he doesn’t properly listen to what other people are trying to say.

Ford and Fiddleford finally do talk about their feelings and what went wrong on both ends. They decide that for the moment they still need some time apart for the moment and they’ll see how it goes from there.