#saying your small business failing will kill you when you can get a job and won't lose your house and can live with family members who love

[imgonnascreamandnoonecanstopme]

Why "fearing" ai, especially ai art, is extremely non intersectional and potentially ableist or even eugenecist of you.

Posting this here cus thank god no one reads this blog but i'm frustrated over how disgusting y'all are acting.

Firstly, none of y'all fucks gave a single damn when klaus used ai to colour 2d drawings and people wanted to redefine 2d as being ok if all we see is computer generated.

None of y'all fucks even gave a damn when pixar tried to redefine 2d as 3d art with a 2d filter. So don't try to claim you give a damn about art when you were fine throwing everyone who's ever done 2d animation under the bus repeatedly. (this doesn't apply if you, like me, were there arguing against these fucks. You're fine. But you know the fucks i'm talking about "future of 2d, new frontier bluhbluhbluh")

In fact most of y'all fucks encouraged it and wanted your hands on the tech to use for yourself. so feck off with your fake ass concern

2.

The shit you claim ai is doing now. It's not. And i've seen some truly unhinged shit that's either 1. been disproven or 2. is just fully illogical.

Example A: The ai is stealing actual furry art scam that was REPEATEDLY proven to be false. But this sure went around on twitter and tumblr and then the people who literally faked it tried to pull some bs "it was a social experiment" "It was to show how it could end up" nonsense. Fuck you.

Example B, the only case i've seen a job "stolen", word used FUCKING loosely: In a comments section i saw a dude explained that for his souvenir photography shop, their boss is using an ai to colour correct the photos and the photographers aren't allowed to change the settings on the camera (implied: because the ai won't work unless it has specific camera settings).

So this dude thinks the photographers job got stolen because the photographer can't adjust the camera settings and because his job description changed from colour correcting to checking that the ai hasn't messed up. Homeboy wasn't fired/ctx

To explain to you, in case you genuinely have no knowledge of history or how things work in job markets /gen:

These things have been happening since the industrial era and yet i'm not seeing a single one of you arguing for us to go back to pre machinery sweat shops for young girls. Cus y'all do realise that pre machinery, in history, the norm was FUCKING SWEAT SHOPS in the global north, right?

Job loss is bad, yeah, and it was super fucking bad for the people who had typewriting jobs when the computer came. A lot of people either pivoted to the computer and if they couldn't, they lost their job. However, how many of you, genuinely, who currently own a business, even a small one, wants to go back to only using a typewriter? /genq No google docs, no google calendar, no printing receipts or packing labels. All written by hand (rip fellow dysgraphics) or by typewriter just so that you can hire some of the ex type writers who are now retired and lost their job in the past? I'm gonna venture not many of you are willing to make that decision in terms of being conservative of jobs. Especially if you own a modern small business.

Let's say you are one of the people who lost their job to computers becoming the norm. Did you once think the computer was sentient and actively trying to replace you? I'm not asking if you got angry at the computer replacing you, i'm asking if you thought the computer was alive and walked into the office and said "Hey, i want a job and can do it better than Doris" and your boss said "hired" and fired you. Or, did you think your boss bought a MACHINE a TOOL (non sentient) that ended up replacing your job?

And Lastly if you were replaced by a computer. Did that makes authors extinct?/genq Even authors who handwrite or use a typewriter? Cus i have a bunch of nanowrimo stats to prove you wrong if you think that went away just because your job went away.

You might be wondering, why am i talking about this, especially the last one. The answer is really simple you see because THATS HOW THE ABOVE DUDE SOUNDED IN HIS FEAR MONGERING COMMENT He heavily implied that the "AI" replaced "HIM" and that it will continue and ripple out and replace ALL photography always and forever.

Which btw last i checked for freelance photographers, i thought y'all did your own colour correction or is that just for small businesses?/genq And for tourist photographers where it's sometimes an entry level part time job, i thought the ones who were doing it not as a passion already didn't mess with camera settings that much cus y'all didn't give a shit about the job if they treat you like shit and pay you less than minimum wage. And didn't the photography business get this already where things shifted when we went from physical film to print? Was that a catastrophe? cus y'all seem fine and like y'all survived but idk maybe there was a mass genocide i didn't hear about due to us stopping the use of substances with carcinogens. (heavy sarcasm incoming) Maybe not using carcinogens is what's actually killing us/s

Lastly why tf do the arguments in response to ai have a net total of 5 minutes of knowledge of human history????? If you know shit about the history of technology and humans oppressing other humans, something in you should be getting weird vibes from the arguments people are making currently. And yet i keep seeing people arguing that if you don't support being anti ai (of all forms, even as accessibility tools) then you're actively taking money from a freelance artist that you have never met and would never purchase from, even if you would never pay for ai art. Which is not how the economy, facts, money, human rights or customers work??????

So many people will say art is a luxury product when people wanna price gouge artists but not say it when artists are harassing people for not buying their shit (istfg if you dare say that hasn't happened once in history then fuck you, it's not just people on tumblr who are artists and drawing isn't the only form of art. Problematic and bigoted people exist everywhere, even in the small business freelance world.)

Not to mention the issue with losing your job isn't the tool that replaced you ITS THE FUCKING SYSTEM THAT REQUIRES YOU TO HAVE A JOB TO BE ABLE TO EAT! YOU'RE SPENDING YOUR ENERGY PROTESTING THE TIP OF THE SWORD WHEN YOU SHOULD BE PROTESTING THE ARMED GUARD WHO ARE USING THE SWORDS OR THE RULING GOVERNMENT THAT SANCTIONED THOSE ARMED GUARDS TO EXIST! And if you don't wanna protest for a system change to ensure that no one ends up jobless and only care if you get a crappier title, then i dislike you.

Tldr of this section: I'm sorry but if you're gonna induce a world ending (aka genocide level) threat, then i'm gonna need more than just "i wasn't even fired, i just do something different at a normal non specialised job", otherwise i'm gonna assume at best you're ego is bruised and at worst actually that fucking priveleged that you think having a job description change, when people are losing their jobs for unrelated reasons to ai, is actively oppressing you. Or that you're trying to water down the concept of what a threat is in which case i actively dislike you as an individual. Extrapolating that a literal computer program will end the photography business because your job description changes due to a shitty decision from your human boss and due to the shitty decisions the government makes to make income security a privilege and not a right, makes no sense.

3. Here is shit ai actually has done:

It's found a fucking antibiotic, i repeat AN ANTIBIOTIC! A NEW ONE! AND ITS WORKING! OUR LAST ONE WAS DECADES AGO! DO YOU NOT REALISE HOW FUCKING IMPORTANT THIS IS FOR DISABLED PEOPLE YOU PRIVELEGED LITTLE SHIT?!??!?!?! (this doesn't apply to the people who are excited for this, if you're not excited (excluding mental illness reasons like depression) for this despite knowing how many people die due to antibiotic resistance then block me now, your energy is fucking rancid)

made colouring 2d animated work easier aka more accessible

helped make other art things accessible to disabled people

Outed people as problematic if not as literal alt-right people or even neo-nazis based on the shit they're spouting as "valid" arguments towards a potential sentient being capable of emotion.

4. Here is shit ai hasn't done based on my research which is inherently limited. Please provide actual proof and not the human faked posts that were going around on twitter:

copy actual drawing

do convincing art from just a text prompt (there's a v funny youtube series where someone tries to get chat gpt to draw a simple circle, it sadly can't, cus it's not sentiently aware of what it's doing)

be able to write anywhere near like a human would communicate for anything longer than

Be sentient about any of the above or show understanding that it knows what art even is.

Be able to make autonomous choices unrelated to what it's learned

Made you have bigoted ideals, that's you, not a fucking random computer, take responsibility for your actions as an actual sentient human

Lastly, let's assume, ai, becomes sentient. Why THE FUCK is the main argument in "managing" it, GENOCIDE?!?!?!?!?

Anyone who is on team "just shut it down/turn it off" instead of "hey let's raise it with love and kindness. And if we don't and it becomes hostile, then it'll be very hard for an ai who is only trained in communicating with humans, to become a world class hacker, despite having no training on that front. And even making a rudimentary shitty ai costs much more energy and time than we should use. And even replicating it takes so much time and physical electrical volt/watt energy so the concept that the ai can replicate itself in a split second and evilly take over the world is illogical at best."

No, no. Instead let's decide "yes i wanna keep my right to kill living life forms because i'm scawed UwU"

Fuck all you fucking fucks who aren't even veiling your genocidal agenda. Fuck you.

Guess what you fucking motherfucker. WE ALREADY HAVE TOP HACKERS WHO ARE SENTIENT AND GUESS WHAT HAS HAPPENED YOU FUCKING FUCK. WE DONT NEED TO FUCKING KILL THEM TO KEEP THEM IN CHECK HOLY SHIT. What is it. With y'all fucks in the global north. And just wanting to murdermurderstabstab anything that is different or as "revenge"?!?!?!!??!?!? Y'all need 20ccs of barbie movies during your childhood and it shows. Fucking hell.

You fucks will use "i'm scared" and other forms of "fear" as a defense but use it to bear your fangs and rip into the first best example you see without making sure it's even a threat or that you are even being threatened because to you privileged fucks, being slightly uncomfortable is what you interpret as oppression. You're not fucking scared. You're hateful and bigoted. Check yourself. Cus you're not helping anyone and you're putting people in danger by having that mentality. Cus thinking you can be objective enough to not turn on other actual sentient beings, when one of your main arguments against a sentient being, is killing them. That's just not how anything has *ever* worked.

Not to mention. IF THIS IS FUCKING PLAN A. TF IS PLAN B.

TF IS PLAN B

THE AI "GETS OUT" AND FINDS OUT THE ONLY PLAN IN EXISTENCE FOR IT WAS GENOCIDE.

ARE YOU EXPECTING THAT TO GO OVER WELL?!?!? FOR AN INFANT NEWBORN CHILD?!

HAVE NONE OF YALL FUCKS READ FUCKING FRANKENSTIEN?!?!?!? LIKE:

The keep reading thing didn't work so to protect people from potentially flashing images, instead imagine, if you can, that there is a gif here of someone screaming in anger and frustration and pain.

Feel free to let me know if i say smth bigoted but not if it's the fucking "you're just saying adapt or die" argument CUS ITS NOT FUCKING TRYING TO KILL YOU ITS NOT FUCKING SENTIENT. IF YOU DARE FUCKING ARGUE THAT AI IS TRYING TO ENACT FUCKING GENOCIDE WHEN ACTUAL FUCKING GENOCIDES ARE HAPPENING THEN I WILL NOT HOLD BACK MY WORDS!

MY PEOPLE DID NOT SURVIVE THAT FUCKING SHIT ONLY FOR SOMEONE LIKE YOU TO TRY TO FUCKING WATER DOWN THAT TERM AND IT'S IMPLICATIONS!!!

[undreaming-fanfiction]

I've had a fantasy/medieval AU in mind for ages and I will write it one day, but the idea just wants out now. So have a brief summary.

Steve works in a small town in the middle of nowhere, he's doing odd jobs and helping to tame the local children. He's very protective because he knows the world outside is dangerous, and yeah, maybe their town is borning, but at least it's safe. Ever since his former fiancées friend got dragged into a river and drowned by a water demon, he's been even more protective of the children (and has saved them from a bunch of close calls too, even though they hate to admit it).

Eddie is a travelling bard, and Steve wants to tear his hair out and weave it into a basket or something. Because where he's trying to make sure the six kids get to grow up, Eddie is filling their heads with adventures, dragons, treasure and all that beautiful stuff that gets people killed one day. But the kids love him and Steve can only stay nearby and pray they don't run off one day with makeshift swords.

He just wants the kids safe. That's why he always accompanies them when Eddie is in town. So what if he sits nearby when Eddie spins his stories, it's just to protect them all from wolves if they decide to come. So what if he inches closer when the tale gets more tense and the protagonist is in danger. So what if he holds his breath until he knows whether the adventurers lived to see another day! It's all for the children, he says to himself.

And Eddie? Eddie sees the wonder in Steve's eyes. He sees a young man who has been walking in circles for too long, who has given up all of his future to give one to these six children. He sees in him what he sees in all of the adventurers and heroes he sings about, whose tales he carries with him. He sees all he wants to give.

So Eddie comes to the town more often than to the other ones. But whenever the children start raving about going on adventures, he just throws his head back and laughs. "You, going on an adventure? Please. Can you hold a weapon? Can you dodge an attack? Hm? Show me." The kids fail, of course. And Eddie says: "Do you know what the adventurers I sing about have in common? They came back from their adventures. And why? Because they were prepared! No one is going to sing about you if you drop dead during your first fight."

It doesn't take long for the kids to come to Steve for advice and training. And Steve knows somewhere deep in his heart that he can't protect them forever. He talks to the captain of the guard, Hopper, and he actually gets someone to train with the kids - and himself. He watches with pride as the children pick weapons best suited to their strengths, all too heavy for them, but that doesn't curb their enthusiasm.

He also asks his ex-fiancée, Nancy, to provide some basic training regarding edible herbs, remedies and poisons. He goes to Robin for a geography lesson, so that the little shits at least know where they're going and where their kingdom ends. He asks Jonathan to speed up their reading and writing lessons, and Argyle prepares a bunch of easy recipes from things that grow around them, and teaches them how to start a fire in almost any conditions.

When the kids turn fifteen, they are ready to go on an adventure with Eddie. Steve has done all he could, but he still feels they aren't ready, that he isn't ready. He'll die of worrying, he knows it. What is he even going to do now that the kids are gone?

But Eddie just smiles at him. "What, you put in all this work for them and now you don't even get to see them in action? Don't be stupid. Go and pack, we'll wait for you."

If Steve keeps thinking of Eddie's smile the whole time he's packing, it's only his business.

And that's how, with much of the kids' grumbling, Steve also leaves on adventure.

[randomcreator-09]

Small Heath's Songbird (Thomas Shelby x OCY/N!Reader)

(Gif not mine > @bonniebird)

I WANNA BE KISSED LIKE THIS TOO T^T

Part One - Part Two

✨Pure fluff, No Grace, no smut... for now 😏✨

🐧Aha~ hello people of this world... took me long to finish writing this aha busy playing adult, phew. Ok context, don't get me wrong, I love the original Grace but in this fic, she's nonexistent. OCY/N is an asian heh hope that ayt with yall. ALSO this will focus on season 3, where Tommy has his arrow house already. Although his single asf and relies on whores... Until hehehe yeah boi~ XD Also this is just a character intro sorta... but there would be some important factors here that you need to know to be able to fully understand part two, so READ IT >:D muhahahahaha🐧

Own character description but it's Y/N POV

3.4k words

REBLOG TO SPREAD ADDICTION and kudos are appreciated too thank you ^^

Enjoy reading ^^

Part One - Part Two

-----

Birmingham was unkind to those who were different from them. Although England wasn't perfect themselves they still held grudges to those they deemed 'peculiar'.

You were spot on in that criteria. Small in height, jet black wavy hair, slightly slanted almond eyes, and full lips. However your skin tone was the same as theirs, coming from your European side of the family, that didn't save you from the racial slurs you'd get when you moved to Birmingham. A lot of people weren't as happy as you were when you arrived, a few looks here and there, but your used to it even in your home country. You see, you had bright blue eyes (with a little tint of green). Very unique if you'd say, but people disagree on that, especially your people. They think your the devils daughter and for it they kicked you out too.

It's been a few months since you settled in Small Heath. A kind woman accepted you with open arms and let you stay for a while in her humble home till you found yourself a job. She was a whore yes, but that didn't bother you since you've seen a lot worse than being a whore. You respected her even, for it was hard to live by selling your body to people you don't love. She offered you a job once (to be a whore) but you quickly declined saying 'as much as I respect your field of work Missus, I'd like to keep my innocence to a man I love'.

Not that you were virgin, oh no, you've definitely had made love with a few men through your travels, but none of them really stuck with you or vice versa. They just didn't feel right.

Days went by and the landlady ran to you with the daily newspaper in hand. "Look!" she said pointing at an advertisement, "Personal assistant maid needed," as you took the newpaper from her hands and smiled with delight, 'this is it' you thought. The landlady stubbed her cigar dead on the newspaper "Fuck, it's the arrow house." she said as she took the newspaper from you shaking her head. "Wha- Missus but the pay is good?!" you retorted to which she glared at you at for, "The Arrow House is owned by a notorious gangster who'd either kill you or fuck your life up with his fukin fingers!" she explained crossing her arms facing you "you can't even become a prostitute here why bother going to a devils house and be his whore?" she continued.

Your brows furrowed in question. You didn't mind being with a devil sure but to be his whore... Now that may cross a line. "Personal Assistant maid, it doesn't say anythin about being a prostitute," you tried explaining, even though you knew what she meant by that. Most men thought any woman with no man in public is a whore. However the pay was good, it included your own room, free food, and a lot of free time too! With that thought in mind you could still go for that bar singer position every Saturday in the Garrison (to which you heard from the ladies who lived upstairs who tried the position and failed miserably).

The landlady shook her head and sighed, she can't stop you now for she knew, you have decided and when that happens nothing can ever change your mind. "Suit yourself," as she walked away.

-----

The day came and you got a call back from Frances (the head maid), looks like faith was on your side on this one. Hopefully, not as his whore...

You paused to admire the beautiful house as you walked down the gravel road (unsuccessful with pulling a cab because they'd just pass by you). Red bricks stacked upon each other and gorgeous grey pillars and intricate designs adorned it. Still can't believe he lives alone in this big mansion. You huffed air in your lungs as you stride to the main door, lifting your arms to knock.

Knock knock knock

As you puffed the door creaks open to a woman in black, "Ah, you must be Y/N, come in." as she gestured you in. You stared at awe at how spacious the place was. The stairs up was beautiful with portraits of horses and perhaps you thought the Shelby brothers. "We won't be doing much today. Mr. Shelby is out of town and so tomorrow is when you'll officially start. For now get comfortable and I'll roam you around," she spoke clear and concise as you answered by nodding and 'yes Miss Florence' following her to your room.

Your room was spacious as well. A queen size bed on the middle of the room with a window on the left side and a makeup desk on the right. The room was well lit with electric lamps on each side of the bed side and the ceiling was well sculptured with wooden structures, floor was wooden as well. Although the wall were concrete white walls. The room was on the second floor beside Miss Florence's room, away from Mr. Shelby's room, which was a relief on your side.

Miss Florence gave you an hour to get yourself acquainted with your room and said that you had to be out in the entrance where she would be waiting to tour you around. You nodded and she left.

-----

As you have arranged your things in your new room and got ready for the tour Miss Florence had in store for you, you looked at your reflection in the mirror to make sure you look alright for the day. With a nod and a smile you went out and to the entrance where Miss Florence would be.

Miss Florence, a composed and efficient figure, waited for you near the grand entrance of Arrow House, her expression warm yet formal. She nodded approvingly as you approached, and after a quick greeting, she began the tour.

“Arrow House has its own unique history,” Miss Florence explained as she led you through the main hall, with its high ceilings, elaborate chandeliers, and walls adorned with artwork of the family’s ancestors. “Mr. Shelby brought new life to it when he acquired it, though he values his privacy.”

She walked you through the elegant sitting rooms first, which, despite the muted tones and dark wood, held a sense of opulence. “These rooms are for Mr. Shelby’s meetings and guests. They don’t see much daily use,” she added, pausing by one of the grand fireplaces. The flickering light from the embers cast a warm glow, highlighting the fine detail in the antique furniture.

Next, she led you to the kitchen, which, unlike the other rooms, bustled with activity. The staff members here worked with impressive coordination, preparing meals and ensuring everything was ready at a moment’s notice. “The kitchen is where you’ll be helping from time to time,” Miss Florence informed you. “Mr. Shelby’s tastes are simple, but he expects high standards.”

She guided you through the dining hall, where a large mahogany table stood at the center, framed by polished silverware and neatly folded napkins. “It may look grand, but meals are usually straightforward affairs unless there are visitors,” she commented, giving a rare, light chuckle.

You followed her up the grand staircase, its carpeted steps soft beneath your feet. Miss Florence pointed out the various guest rooms, each one elegantly prepared, with tasteful decor, though they rarely saw visitors. “The family only uses these rooms on occasion,” she remarked, indicating the polished brass fixtures and thick curtains. “Mr. Shelby has specific guests, and they sometimes stay overnight. Best to keep everything ready.”

Finally, she took you down a corridor that led to Mr. Shelby’s private quarters. She paused outside the door of his room. “This is Mr. Shelby’s room. You’re not to enter unless asked.” She looked at you with a hint of seriousness before adding, “Privacy is highly regarded here.”

Finally, after guiding you through the upper floors, Miss Florence led you back downstairs. She stopped near a richly decorated doorway just off the main hall.

“And this,” she said, “is Mr. Shelby’s office. You’ll find him here often.” She looked at you pointedly, adding, “Best to knock and wait for a response before entering.”

Through the doorway, you could see the polished desk, papers stacked with military precision, and the faint scent of cigars lingering in the air. This room, located on the ground floor, clearly held an air of authority and was situated close to the entry—perfect for swift meetings or private business.

With the tour complete, Miss Florence gave a small nod. “Take a moment to familiarize yourself with the house,” she said, before leaving you alone in the dimly lit hallway, surrounded by Arrow House’s quiet opulence.

The sun was still out so you planned to walk around outside. The house had a small garden at the side and a horse stables on the back which was clearly Mr. Shelby's.

The house also had a porch, with a posh white table and two chairs seeing the lush green forest from afar. You sighed as you felt the breeze on your neck to your half-tied hair and crossed your arms around you feeling the cold wind trickling your skin through your clothes. The clothes you wore were expensive to say the least, your former landlady was so sad you were moving out that she gifted you a luxurious royal blue dress to wear going to the mansion.

Suddenly a warm feeling enveloped you as you flinched looking at your shoulders. A dark coat was over your body and a quick smoke flickered your eyes to see a man with a defined jaw and cheekbones. "You must be Y/N," he said as he kept his eyes on the greenery. "Shelby, but you can call me Thomas" as he offered his hands towards you.

As you raised your hands slowly to shake his you hesitated and dropped your hands back to your sides. You removed his dark coat around you and offered it back, "Thank you for the kind gesture Mr. Shelby, but I am your personal made not a visitor. I am here to work for you" you said as you continued to look down at his shoes, unable to look up his face.

"Hmm," a low grumble from the throat made you lift your head up, and there you saw his head tilted closer to yours with his piercing blue eyes straight to yours. "Well, you have beautiful eyes that I can assure ye'" as he puffed out the smoke in his lungs, standing up and taking the coat on your hands and swiftly placing them again on top of your shoulders.

You could smell the strong cologne he had on. Mixed with the scent of the cigar he was taking and blood? It was dangerously addicting.

"You'll start tomorrow anyways," as he started to walk away slowly. "Let me at least treat you as a visitor before you get all busy." as he started to walk towards the stables. You suddenly feel blood rushing to your cheeks reminiscing about his scent and how his face was close to yours.

"You following or not?" a shout from afar caught your attention and removed you from your thoughts. "Yes Mr. Shelby, following!" you shouted back as you ran towards him.

-----(Tommy's POV)

The ride back to Arrow House was a haze of smoke, blood, and lingering fury. Changretta’s betrayal was handled, his lifeless eyes now a grim reminder of the consequences of crossing Thomas Shelby. Yet as the gravel crunched beneath his vehicle and the grand silhouette of Arrow House emerged, a part of him yearned for something—anything—other than the chaos he’d left behind.

As he placed his feet unto the gravel road, the cool evening breeze carried hints of earth and lavender, a stark contrast to the suffocating smoke-filled rooms of Birmingham. He loosened his tie as he rounded the corner of the porch, lighting himself a cigar, his gaze falling on a figure in a striking royal blue dress.

She stood there, arms crossed against the chill, her posture straight but her gaze distant as if lost in thought. Her hair was tied back neatly, a few tendrils escaping to frame a delicate face. He stopped mid-stride, his breath catching for a moment. She turned slightly, and the setting sun caught her profile—soft, porcelain skin glowing against the backdrop of the lush green garden.

For a brief moment, Thomas thought she was a guest, someone important perhaps, yet there was no carriage, no announcement of arrival. It wasn’t until he noticed the plain black shoes and the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress that he realized—this was the new maid.

"Interesting."

He removed his dark coat and approached her, draping it over her shoulders in a practiced motion. She flinched slightly at the contact but didn’t pull away.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, keeping his tone low as he puffed his cigarette. He glanced past her at the garden, keeping his expression unreadable.

She hesitated, her fingers gripping the edges of the coat as if debating whether to keep it. “Shelby,” he introduced, his voice firm yet laced with intrigue, “but you can call me Thomas.” He extended a hand.

Her reaction amused him. She raised her hand but let it fall back to her side, averting her gaze. Then, she carefully removed the coat and held it out to him. “Thank you for the kind gesture, Mr. Shelby, but I am your personal maid, not a visitor. I am here to work for you.”

Thomas’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk. Her voice was polite yet firm, and her shyness intrigued him. “Hmm.” The soft growl from his throat made her finally look up.

Her eyes caught him off guard. Blue, with a hint of green—bright and unique, a startling contrast against her dark lashes and raven hair. He tilted his head slightly, letting the silence linger as he leaned closer, holding her gaze.

“Well,” he said, his voice softer but no less commanding, “you have beautiful eyes, that I can assure ye’.” He took the coat from her hands and deliberately placed it back over her shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her dress. “You’ll start tomorrow anyways. Let me at least treat you as a visitor before you get all busy.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and started walking toward the stables, the weight of her presence lingering in his mind.

“You following or not?” he called out without looking back.

“Yes, Mr. Shelby! Following!” Her voice was a touch breathless, and it brought an unexpected smile to his lips.

-----Your POV

As the gravel crunched beneath your feet, you quickened your pace to catch up with Mr. Shelby, who was already nearing the stables. The breeze carried the faint scent of hay and leather, mingling with the earthy aroma of the horses. You hesitated briefly before stepping into the barn, the dim light casting soft shadows across the wooden beams.

Thomas Shelby stood near one of the horses, his fingers brushing through its mane with an ease that spoke of familiarity. The soft nickering of the animal filled the air as he looked over his shoulder to see you standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“You don’t have to just stand there,” he remarked, his tone light but firm. “They don’t bite… much.”

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you stepped closer, the warmth of the stable wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The horse he was grooming turned its head slightly, as if inspecting you. Its dark eyes held a quiet curiosity, much like its owner’s piercing gaze.

“Do you know much about horses?” he asked, handing you a brush without waiting for an answer.

You shook your head, gently taking the brush from his outstretched hand. “Not really, Mr. Shelby. I’ve always admired them, though.”

“Thomas,” he corrected, his voice steady. “If you’re working here, we may as well skip the formalities.”

You nodded, feeling a small wave of relief at his approachable tone. Moving to stand beside him, you watched as he demonstrated the technique, his hands methodical as he ran the brush down the horse’s side. You followed his lead, your movements careful and deliberate.

“This one’s name is Arrow,” he said, his voice softer now. “She’s got a temper, but if you’re patient, she’ll warm up to you.”

You couldn’t help but smile as Arrow leaned slightly into your touch, her warm breath puffing against your arm. “She’s beautiful,” you murmured, glancing at Thomas out of the corner of your eye.

“She knows it,” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, filled only by the rustling of hay and the rhythmic strokes of the brushes. You felt a strange sense of ease around him, despite the intimidating aura he carried.

“Why Birmingham?” he asked suddenly, his tone casual but curious.

The question caught you off guard, and you paused mid-stroke. “It wasn’t really a choice,” you admitted. “I needed somewhere to start over, and Birmingham… well, it’s not as unkind as some places.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, thoughtful. “People here can be… particular,” he said. “But they’ll get used to you.”

You didn’t miss the unspoken meaning behind his words—he understood what it was like to be judged, to carry something on your shoulders that others didn’t bother to understand.

“And you?” you asked tentatively, surprising yourself with the question. “Do you get used to people?”

Thomas paused, his hands stilling on the brush. A flicker of something unreadable passed over his face before he turned back to Arrow. “Only the ones worth knowing.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken depth that made your heart flutter. Before you could respond, he straightened, dusting off his hands. “Come on,” he said, motioning toward the barn door. “It’s getting dark.”

-----

The kitchen was warm and inviting, far cozier than the grandeur of the dining hall you’d seen earlier. Thomas moved with an ease that surprised you, setting out simple plates and pouring glasses of water. The smell of fresh bread and stew filled the air, and you found yourself relaxing as you took a seat at the modest wooden table.

“Not what you were expecting, was it?” he asked, setting a bowl of stew in front of you.

You shook your head, smiling. “Not at all. It’s… nice. Feels more real.”

His lips quirked into a faint smile as he took a seat across from you. “Real’s not a word people usually associate with me.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Maybe they’re not looking close enough.”

He looked at you then, really looked, and you felt the intensity of his gaze settle over you like a weight. The air between you shifted, charged with something you couldn’t quite name.

As the meal went on, the conversation flowed easily, each shared story peeling back another layer of the man who, only hours ago, had been a mysterious and intimidating figure. By the time the plates were empty and the kitchen quieted, the darkness outside had deepened, wrapping the house in a blanket of stillness.

Thomas leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on you. “You’ll do fine here,” he said softly accentuating the end remark, almost to himself.

You felt a warmth rise in your chest at his words, but before you could thank him, he stood and walked as he leaned to your side. The sudden closeness made your breath catch, and when he reached down to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingered for just a moment too long.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without thinking, your hand brushed against his. He stopped, his eyes searching yours, and slowly in that moment, the space between you disappeared. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both gentle and unyielding, a moment that felt suspended in time.

When he pulled back, his expression was unreadable, but there was a softness in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. “See you tomorrow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, before he turned and left the kitchen.

You sat there, your heart racing, trying to piece together what had just happened. One thing was certain—life at Arrow House was going to be anything but ordinary.

----- End of part one (Part Two on December 24th [to be updated here])

Part One - Part Two

-----

🐧See what I did with the GIF and the ending huhhhhhhh ^w^ anyways hope ya'll can wait till 24th ehe🐧

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[sweetdreamz2]

Yandere Soldier S. Ryomen

Who knew that you would catch the attention of someone as ruthless as Sukuna— who so happens to be the enemy.

Yandere! Soldier Sukuna who is as menacing and commanding as he looks — broad shoulders and scarred arms signaling he’s seen more than enough battles in his life. Dark tattoos peeking from the confines of his uniform, sleeves rolled up and collar unbuttoned to showcase his dog tags around his neck. Those crimson eyes digging into people’s soul— as if those eyes could kill.

Yandere! Soldier Sukuna who does his job very, very well. Each mission he’s been assigned, he never fails. Always coming back with that dark, sinister smirk on his face, his hands soaked with the blood of his enemies. He didn’t become captain of his squad for nothing. His skills are top notched compared to any of the others in his base. He’s very proud of the type of power he holds amongst the others -so much so that no one dares to defy him.

Yandere! Soldier Sukuna who just wants to wind down after a rough mission one night and decides to stop by a bar along with his squad— the once rowdy bar instantly falling silent as they entered. The patrons turning around to stare at them silently, some with fear and others glaring daggers at the group. Of course, who wouldn’t stare — Sukuna and his squad were part of the occupying forces of this country, so the stares were anything but familiar to the group.

Yandere! Soldier Sukuna who merely sweeps his gaze around the smelly, old building with a nonchalant expression on his face until his orbs land on a figure behind the bar. You. You were pouring drinks while occasionally offering small talk to the occupants sitting across from you. Some were friendly while others were throwing flirtatious remarks at you — it’s not like you weren’t used to it by now, but it definitely didn’t help with the uniform you had to wear.

Yandere! Soldier Sukuna who sits with his squad quietly, his orbs trained on you the whole time until your figure leaves the bar and make way towards him. You offer the group a small smile. “What can I get for you gentleman tonight?” Sukuna doesn’t even hesitate, lips quickly forming into a smirk that made your stomach twist. "Whiskey for me, little one."

Yandere! Soldier Sukuna who keeps stopping by after that day, sometimes alone and the other times with his squad— the other men settling into the same table, loud and boisterous while the tall male makes his way towards the bar where you’re at, wiping away at the counter until you feel his intimidating presence in front of you. “Whiskey.” He says with that damn smile that just made your stomach churn in the worst possible way as he leaned his muscular arms against the counter.

All you can do is manage a smile towards him before making his drink, feeling his crimson orbs staring at your back.

Yandere! Soldier Sukuna who can’t keep his mind off you— you were so interesting to him.. so fragile and small.. and breathtakingly beautiful. You were ethereal in his eyes, a precious gem that deserved to be protected. Every time he stops by, orders the same drink and sits by the bar, watching you work though he never tries to talk to you. Until today that is. “Busy night?”

“When is it never busy,” you replied back as you placed the glass in front of him— already knowing his usual order before he even asks.

Yandere! Soldier Sukuna who grabs your hand before you could leave, his fingers digging into your skin— gentle at first. He tells you if you’re always this friendly to your customers, but his eyes held a sort of dangerous glint to them. Your heart pounded harshly against your chest, fear eating at you though you refused to give him the satisfaction.

He can feel your pulse pick up underneath his touch. He lets out a dark chuckle before letting you go— giving your hand a firm squeeze and sending you a wink.

Yandere! Soldier Sukuna who waits outside of the bar one night as you were closing up, his expression unreadable as you finally meet his gaze. You frowned, gripping your keys tightly in hand as he stepped closer towards you. "You're an interesting one," he said before you could even ask what he was doing outside of the bar.

Your back pressed up against the building, heart racing rapidly as his hand rested beside you, caging you against the wall. A frown tugged at your lips, eyes narrowing at the tall male. "What do you want?"

Sukuna tilts his head, his expression unreadable. "I've decided something." He grabs a hold of your chin and leans down to whisper against your ear. "You're coming with me, doll." His words hit you like a punch. You protest, scoffing at him and replying back, "I'm not going anywhere with you." Who were you to tell him no?

Sukuna’s lips twitched into a grin, though there was no humor behind it. He finds it comical that you truly think you have a choice in the matter. How foolish of you. But, it's okay though. He'll make sure to correct that. "You'll come to understand, little one." His warm breath nipped against your ear. "I don't take no for an answer."

Before you could even muster a reply, Yandere! Soldier Sukuna already has an arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "I've been patient, but I'm done waiting," he growled, tone dangerously calm. You struggle against his grip, fists pounding against his toned chest to no avail while he merely stares at you with those deep, crimson orbs while he lets out a dark chuckle.

You yell profanities at him, but your words are cut off once he hoists you over his shoulder with ease. "Time to go, little one. You'll be much safer with me now."

Yandere! Soldier Sukuna carries you away from the bar, away from the city you called home and a sinking realization settles over you. You won't ever be able to escape from him.

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

Sorry I like my men toxic and nobody can convince me that Tseng would give you a fully healthy relationship. He’s just not the worst guy you could date. So here are some of Tseng’s toxic habits. I wish we could post powerpoint slides. Like I guess NSFW for my choice of words. Edit: Okay I’ve typed more. It’s NSFW, it wasn’t that when it was just scattered notes i swear. granted, this is still scattered notes

Forgiveness?

Tseng. The man you forgive a million times because someone like him is so hard to come by. Even if you’re a person who doesn’t tolerate bullshit. You know that it would be impossible to find anyone nearly as good as him despite his mistakes. Tseng knows this too, taking advantage of your level of comfort in him. The connection between the two of you so deep there wasn’t a possibility you could view life without him. Tseng creates soul bonds with his significant other, he has to have all of you fully invested in him. You would also want for absolutely nothing, he can provide everything you could ever want so you can focus on the future you want to build for yourself. Whether it’s school, art, creating your own business, etc. Tseng is there to guarantee everything goes according to plan if it’s financially or if he has to pull a few strings. Seeks out people who would be reluctant to replace him but aren’t very co-dependent. If you manage to leave Tseng, say good riddance to developing any new relationships. He’s either going to make any of your new significant others vanish. If it’s someone he can’t kill, he’ll find a way to scare them away from you or find a way to put them in prison. 

My alternative reasoning as to why all of your other relationships would fail? The dick of course. Yes. The unbelievable wee wee. There’s not a soul in the world that would be able to learn your body the way he does. Have you ever heard of people being nearly ready to pass away because they lost their dick? Well if you haven’t, you have now. Even thinking of him fucking someone else the way he does with you is enough to make you want to vomit. That shit will have you sliding down the wall crying. You can try all you like to fuck someone else, it won’t compare. The way he touches you immediately sends electricity down your spine. It’s all in the way he knows how to touch you. Where to touch you. A subtle brush of his fingers along the small of your back while you’re riding him. An almost tickling sensation that causes you to press yourself against him as he leans up to kiss the most sensitive parts of your neck. How about when all he needs to do is look into your eyes and knows exactly how you want to be fucked? You can’t think of a time you had to ask him to do anything, your minds were seemingly in perfect sync. Always so so willing to please you. “So you wanna fuck other people huh?” He whispers in your ear mockingly while driving his cock deeper into you. Your knees pressed against your chest, legs hooked in Tseng’s arms as he ensures you won’t slip out of your position. No, you really don’t, not when he’s reminding you of what you’ll be missing. You’ll be calling him the next day for more, innocently asking for him to come over to “talk”. There won’t be much talking, just Tseng bending you over the kitchen table. His hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks himself into you so deeply, ignoring the way your hands push against his abdomen in a half-hearted attempt to slow his tempo down. 

There aren’t many people in this world that would be nearly as attentive as he is. The way he can easily tell all of your needs within moments of talking to you. Reads you like a book and it can’t help but make your heart flip, cause like, ‘who sent this man?’ and why does he know all of your emotional needs and exactly how to take care of them? Tseng carries aspects of his job along with his relationships. The same way he gets to know his enemies closely, he’ll do the same to you. Memorizes all of your sayings, even can predict what your response would be to most questions or statements. It’s almost more eerie than heart warming. With this comes the ability to manipulate you endlessly. Gaslighting has never been easier honestly. Lying to you about anything or forcing you to agree with his point of view would be child’s play. The way he carries himself during an argument, so well composed, rarely letting his emotions control him paired with the way he effectively strings his words together to soothe you. His calmness will make you question why you’re even so worked up. Tseng isn’t, so why are you? Tseng makes you see everything through rose colored lenses, and despite your aching heart when he hurts you, Tseng could never be wrong in your eyes. He only does what’s best for you. 

Gaslighting? Probably.

Truly remembers every word you’ve said to him and will use it against you. This goes back into my last little paragraph but deeper? Uses traumatic things from your past so you can believe that maybe your emotions, in regards to something Tseng has done wrong, are nothing more than misguided reactions. Will have you think that maybe you’re projecting your fears from past experiences onto him when you challenge him or try to hold him accountable for any wrongdoings. Certainly will guilt trip you knowing exactly what makes you feel like you’re the biggest piece of shit in the world. He doesn’t have to do anything outrageous. It’s the way Tseng subtly changes his body language. Slumping his shoulders just a bit, the way his brow furrows at your words or actions, breaking eye contact and staring at the floor like a scolded child. To put the cherry on top, it’s the ever so slight change in his tone of voice. The wavering in his tone as he speaks softly, not too soft for it to sound out of the ordinary, but enough for you to believe you’ve hurt his feelings. Usually resulting in you coddling him, now you’re the one apologizing because you “never meant to make him feel bad” even if it’s because you were grilling him for something as major as fucking his boss behind your back. Believing that it must be your fault if he’s off sleeping with others. Master manipulator for sure. He’s good at lying, like we see what he does for a living.

Like to make you cry because he's the only one that can also make you better. At times he’ll do this just to make sure he’s got complete control over you still. Wrapping his arms around you in such a calming way, his warmth and sweet words coaxing you to relax against him so he could “make it all better again.” More makeup sex. Somehow gets a kick out of cheering you back up. One minute you were sobbing because his words were a little too cruel and now you’re sobbing because he won’t stop fucking you so good. Tseng has a way he likes to position you in times like this. Having you lay on your stomach, your back arched just enough for his hips to flush against your ass as he completely sheaths himself in you, whispering in your ear asking “you still love me, right?” Christ, he has a way of making himself emotionally needy at just the right times. You can’t help but whimper, whine, and eventually choke out, through your moans, your appreciation, love, and devotion to him. Always ends with him cuming in you, some aftercare, then holding you in his arms for a majority of the night unless work calls him away.

Sometimes-y af?

He can pick and choose when he wants to pick up your relationship or not but you cannot do the same to him. Loves someone who he can come and go as he pleases with. You're so stupid and willing. Loyal to a fault, though the only person it’s negatively affecting is you. There isn’t a time you’ve turned him away thus far. Constantly taking him into your arms, babying him as though he’s some angel despite you knowing he isn’t. Tseng’s just managed to get you to the point you couldn't care less about his deceptive ways. You just want him by your side, no matter what the circumstances may be. The entire world can see the invisible leash and collar Tseng has put on you, yet you manage to stay blind to it all. You’ll wait like the good little puppy he’s molded you into. 

It’s a wonder he can be such a gentleman and a conniving son of a bitch. The kind to end an argument by demanding to be left alone but will ask “what you're doing tonight” a few hours later---he's going to fuck you—giving you a reason to keep accepting him back into your loving arms. He knows you’re a gift from the Goddess but he can’t help that he likes being toxic at times. It’s why he treats you so well and the sex is so unbelievably good. He needs to cement himself into your soul so he can continuously get away with everything, so things can continue to go exactly as he wants it to. Tseng prefers a life with you that has no consequences. For him. You, however, have to deal with punishment if you dare treat him in a similar manner to his treatment of you. Will show his displeasure with hurtful words and by neglecting you. If that doesn’t have the desired effects he’s willing to scare you into submission. Once again, nothing too outrageous that he would do. Tseng might just choke you a bit, push you against a wall, or if you try to run he’ll hold you against him tightly. Whispering into your ear about making you disappear if he can’t have you the way he wants you. Telling you how he does so much for you and he at the very least deserves you on your best behavior at all times or else he might just have to break that pretty neck of yours. Isn’t too big on yelling, he can get his point across just fine without having to do so.

Stalker? Obviously.

Tseng has trackers in your cars, phone, and bags. It doesn’t matter where you go, he’s going to find you. He’s definitely followed you from location to location, making sure you were doing what you said you would be. Sure he’s always been able to track you, but that isn’t the same as seeing you. You could be doing anything in the areas you claimed to be in. Tseng is even familiar with the faces of employees of each store you frequent. Has tracked down every family member and friend of yours, performing thorough background checks on all of them. Even closely looking after some of the people closest to you. Tseng has to approve of the people you hang around of course, he won’t tolerate anything that he feels is a negative influence and will force them out of your life. Tseng will sit outside of your house for hours after leaving, wondering if someone will come over. If he knows someone is coming over he’s got your home mic’d. Listening to all of your conversations, evading your most private conversations. Hates to hear when you vent about him, makes it hard to come back to you and act nice when in reality he wants to correct you for telling his business to your friends and family. Doesn’t mind when you’re speaking highly of him though, you help boost his ego most of the time. Getting space from Tseng is impossible. Your attempts to drive around and find a nice parking spot are all for nothing. He’s following right behind you. Is definitely going to block you in with his own car, angrily getting out of his own. Once he made you leave your car where it was entirely. Pissed that you would try to get away from him at all, it doesn’t matter if it’s just for a few hours. Pushing you into the passenger seat of his car, driving you back home all while yelling about how stupid you were and that you would always come back begging for him. 

He was always right about that. Nothing would stop you from wanting Tseng back if he finally decided he was done. A relationship with Tseng is either on his terms or very much a “till death do us part” 

[biscuitbox23]

The other woman.

Summary: The other woman will spend her life alone…

Authors Note: am back with another fic. I always thought about Lori and Shane and whatever happens, it’s always the song ‘The other woman’ from Lana del Rey. Poor rick :( in this case I wanted it to be like Rick still dealing with the grief and loss of his wife while Y/n fills in the gap because we all know Rick would NEVER EVER cheat on Lori.

Warnings: Suggestive themes but no actual smut comes in (still be cautious with this), angst, unrequited love. If I missed anything don’t be shy to comment on it, please do.

word count: 1.8k

The other woman has time to manicure her nails The other woman is perfect where her rival fails And she's never seen with pin curls in her hair anywhere.

You can almost feel his gaze in your cell room. You lay on your belly on the bed as you flipped through old gossip magazines like the ones you'd see in the front of a convenience store. It had radiant colors and models, actresses, you name it. It didn't help take away the longing ogling at you as you stared back at him, putting your magazine down. 

It didn't help that you had your pajamas still on. It was a small tank top with a lace neckline with matching shorts. It was silky, and it hugged onto your skin snuggly. It was coral-colored. It was Rick's favorite. It was no surprise. You liked to get his attention from time to time. 

You tried to put on this unrecognizable facade of cluelessness. It made you look more compliant. You like to paint your nails as leisure while everyone does their business and the jobs they have to contribute to the prison. You loved to feel pretty. Even at times like this, where you kill or get killed.

You'd see Rick pace around the prison like a madman. Carl had to deal with losing his mother. You didn't blame him. Rick was married to her for a long time. Sometimes, the widower would scream at nothing. It would wake you up in the night. Now you warm his bed. 

The other woman enchants her clothes with French perfume The other woman keeps fresh cut flowers in each room And there are never toys that's scattered everywhere.

You always kept yourself clean. It was important. You can never go a week without showering. Ever since the apocalypse, it has been difficult for you. So you tried your best to smell good and be presentable for yourself. You kept your cell tidy and pristine, too. You cared for Judith when Beth had to spend some time with her father, Hershel. Play her, dress her, change her, almost as if you were her mother. You only did it so you could contribute to the group. You did not want to get kicked out like last time.

You were being weak and useless. That was what your last group would say. It was not your fault. You realize they made you live bait. Then you found Rick just a few days later. Unfortunately, Rick was not feeling so well when you came.

You had always had an odd attraction to him. At first, you would hate him for being rude to you, then feel your heart pull towards him. You understood his grief, though. The death of his wife brought the worst in him. You wanted to fix it, somehow.

So you tried your best to make up for it. Tidying cells, checking up on people, eating less so the rest of the group can have more rations. You wanted to fit in, to feel a part of it. The people were genuine, especially Carol. You felt his presence in every corner of the prison. You did not mind it. You would feel your core start to feel something else.

But it was never you who he was imagining. Was it? Whenever both of you share the night.

In sleepless nights with him, you can feel his breath on your ear, whispering honeyed words and insincere thoughts while his hands anticipate the need to hold your flesh as his body towers over you. Sometimes, you wonder what was going on in his mind, whether it was you or his deceased lover whom he sees underneath him. The simple acknowledgment of your company or the unending bereavement that engulfed his very own consciousness. The ghost of the prison halls haunted by his late wife.

As he was by your side, it was almost as if he was not the same madman as he was in the first few days of your arrival. He was gentle and careful with you, like a craftsman handling a porcelain doll, unlike the man who yelled at you for arriving at their prison.

He would lie next to you. He still had his wedding band. You thought about removing it without him noticing. You knew it was wrong to think that way, but you could not help it. You wanted him for yourself, but you also did not want to hurt him. You did not want to be the cause of any more pain in his life. You pushed those thoughts aside and tried to focus on being a good member.

The wedding band on his finger was a cue of his wife, a memory forever etched in his mind. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy whenever you caught a glimpse of it, knowing that you could never replace what he had lost. Despite your desires, you made a conscious effort to act as support and to be there for his and Lori's baby, even Carl. You knew that his healing process would take time, but you were willing to be patient, even if it meant that you could never have him for yourself.

And when her old man comes to call He finds her waiting like a lonesome queen 'Cause to be by her side It's such a change from old routine

There are nights when you think he will finally confess his feelings towards you. The strong emotions that both of you shared mutually would finally be real all this time. The longing melancholy that you endured to feel him again. Things that only the other woman can feel.

You're lying down on the empty cot that held your tired body. The blanket lazily covered your body as you stared at the prison ceiling. You breathe rapidly, and your chest heaves as your eyes wander on Rick's body, glistening in the faint glow of the candle.

You'd be his if he asked you to.

He wouldn't be willing to do that for you. It's been only a few months since Lori's demise, his beloved partner. It's a woman you always envied despite her absence. The grief is still fresh, and he hasn't had enough time to heal yet.

As you lay there, watching Rick dress himself up and ready to leave, you couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance for something more between you two. However, deep down, you knew it was only a fantasy that would never come true. Despite the pain of unrequited love, you couldn't help but admire the man in front of you with his charming grace and loving body, grateful for the moments you shared even if they were limited.

Amidst a world ravaged by the undead, it felt like chasing after your heart's desires was a lost cause. You could only yearn for what you could have had. If only the world wasn't a grim and hopeless place you might have been Rick's beloved wife by now. You could have felt his longing gaze upon you as your bodies entwined in a loving moment, free from the fear and chaos that had consumed the world around you.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh The other woman will always cry herself to sleep The other woman will never have his love to keep And as the years go by, the other woman will spend her life alone.

Alone and heartbroken, you don't find comfort in your cell room after he left. Your body aches with humiliation as you feel your eyes well up. They sting in pain as tears form and trickle down your rosy cheeks and your neck, which bruised under his lustrous kisses.

The way he groans Lori's name from time to time, the way he shuts his eyes almost throughout the night as he claims your body for himself. You hated it all and despised Rick for it. Oh, but how could you hate him? It was impossible for you, wrapped around his finger like a pathetic toy used for his desire.

But he doesn't realize it. You were afraid to point it out, terrified that he would stop seeing you every night.

It is as if you longed for this twisted idea of true love. Sleeping with a widower, knowing you can't have his love for yourself. Yet, it entices you. Every night you spend with him, every chance you get. You did not like that feeling at all. Whatever happened, his heart belonged to his deceased wife. Someone he will never touch, kiss, hold.

How could Rick leave you yearning for him again and again? Disappearing as the sun rises, pretend like nothing is going on between you and him. That left you sobbing pathetically on your cot like a crybaby. You will never get the luxury of holding hands, cuddling with him on the bed, and sharing kisses. You longed for everything truly romantic, wishing what you had with Rick was similar to what Glenn and Maggie had.

Days passed, and you and Rick slowly stopped seeing each other every night. He started to heal from his grief a bit. He acknowledges you as a member, but never more than that, despite the intimacy both of you shared during his times of mental anguish.

Alone.

During your childhood, you seldom had any friends. Even if you did manage to find someone to hang out with, your friendship was usually brief and fleeting. Your parents had their hands full with your younger siblings, and you often found yourself waiting alone for bedtime stories. Solitude became your constant companion until the apocalypse turned your world upside down.

It's an unfortunate reality that every person we love will eventually leave us in this world. You've had to face your fair share of losses, starting with the passing of your mother, father, and even your siblings. The apocalypse further compounded your feelings of isolation and grief as you were forced to journey alone, with nobody to rely on but yourself.

Along the way, you encountered a group of people who initially seemed like they could be allies, but it quickly became apparent that their intentions were far from honorable. With no other options, you continued your journey until you eventually stumbled upon a prison that had been into a small group home.

Despite your initial reservations, you soon found yourself safe and protected among the survivors who had made the prison their home. You were grateful to finally have a sense of belonging after so much loss and chaos.

You have been alone your whole life, but you've never felt so lonely as it is now.

———————————————————

A/n: I pictured this so much better than what I thought… I mean it’s not that good, I tried my best since I needed to clear out my WIPs, I’m sorry if this doesn’t meet up to ya’lls standards. I tried making it less sexual but let me know if I should dumb it down a little.

tags : @richardsamboramylove55 @musicownsme

[morfinwen]

Fortnight of Books - Day 13

Book which had the overall greatest impact on you this year:

Apart from a couple books affecting my opinion of the author (negative, mostly), i can’t point out any effect any book had on me.

Favorite passage/quote of 2024:

Brace yourself.

Mrs. McGinty's Dead, Agatha Christie

---

~ A woman of the house looked round the corner of the house. She had on a coloured overall and her hair was untidy.

"Stop it, Ernie," she said.

"Shan't," said Ernie, and continued.

Poirot deserted the doorstep and made for the corner of the house. "Can't do anything with children, can you?" the woman said.

Poirot thought you could, but forbore to say so.

~ "Bon Dieu, how stupid I have been," said Hercule Poirot. "The whole thing is simple, is it not?"

It was after that remark that there was very nearly a third murder -- the Murder of Hercule Poirot by Superintendent Spence in Kilchester Police Headquarters.

Johnny Tremaine, Esther Forbes

---

~ "Now what you've got to do is get [the horse's] confidence so completely he'll know you'll never let anything hurt him (...). Then he'll go through Hell, a laundry yard from his point of view, for you."

Going Postal, Terry Pratchett

---

~ Gilt and Vetinari shared a look. It said: While I loathe you and every aspect of your personal philosophy to a depth unplummable by any line, I'll credit you at least with not being Crispin Horsefry.

~ They say that the prospect of being hanged in the morning concentrates a man's mind wonderfully; unfortunately, what the mind inevitably concentrates on is that, in the morning, it will be in a body that is going to be hanged.

~ Always remember that the crowd that applauds your coronation is the same crowd that will applaud your beheading. People like a show.

~ “Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?”

~ And the nice thing about a stake through the heart was that it also worked on non-vampires.

~ Look, he said to his imagination, if this is how you're going to behave, I shan't bring you again.

~ Welcome to fear, said Moist to himself. It's hope, turned inside out. You know it can't go wrong, you're sure it can't go wrong...But it might.

~ If you kept changing the way people saw the world, you ended up changing the way you saw yourself.

~ “There is always a choice."

"You mean I could choose certain death?"

"A choice nevertheless, or perhaps an alternative. You see I believe in freedom. Not many people do, although they will of course protest otherwise. And no practical definition of freedom would be complete without the freedom to take the consequences. Indeed, it is the freedom upon which all the others are based.”

~ “Do you understand what I'm saying?" shouted Moist. "You can't just go around killing people!"

"Why Not? You Do." The golem lowered his arm.

"What?" snapped Moist. "I do not! Who told you that?"

"I Worked It Out. You Have Killed Two Point Three Three Eight People," said the golem calmly.

"I have never laid a finger on anyone in my life, Mr Pump. I may be–– all the things you know I am, but I am not a killer! I have never so much as drawn a sword!"

"No, You Have Not. But You Have Stolen, Embezzled, Defrauded And Swindled Without Discrimination, Mr Lipvig. You Have Ruined Businesses And Destroyed Jobs. When Banks Fail, It Is Seldom Bankers Who Starve. Your Actions Have Taken Money From Those Who Had Little Enough To Begin With. In A Myriad Small Ways You Have Hastened The Deaths Of Many. You Do Not Know Them. You Did Not See Them Bleed. But You Snatched Bread From Their Mouths And Tore Clothes From Their Backs. For Sport, Mr Lipvig. For Sport. For The Joy Of The Game.”

Making Money, Terry Pratchett

--- 

~ It contained herbs and all natural ingredients. But belladonna was an herb, and arsenic was natural.

~ A weapon you held and didn't know how to use belonged to your enemy.

~ “A banker? Me?"

"Yes, Mr. Lipwig."

"But I don't know anything about running a bank!"

"Good. No preconceived ideas."

"I've robbed banks!"

"Capital! Just reverse your thinking," said Lord Vetinari, beaming. "The money should be on the inside.”

~ The dark organ music filled the Department of Post-Mortem Communications. Moist assumed it was all part of the ambience, although the mood would have been more precisely obtained if the tune it was playing did not appear to be Cantate and Fugue for Someone Who Has Trouble with the Pedals.

~ You could trust numbers, except perhaps for pi, but he was working on that in his spare time and it was bound to give in sooner or later.

Thud!, Terry Pratchett

---

~ Vimes had got around to a Clean Desk policy. It was a Clean Floor strategy that eluded him at the moment.

~ “War, Nobby. Huh! What is it good for?" he said.

"Dunno, Sarge. Freeing slaves, maybe?"

"Absol—well, okay."

"Defending yourself against a totalitarian aggressor?"

"All right, I'll grant you that, but—"

"Saving civilization from a horde of—"

"It doesn't do any good in the long run is what I'm saying, Nobby, if you'd listen for five seconds together," said Fred Colon sharply.

"Yeah, but in the long run, what does, Sarge?”

~ A young man of godlike proportions* was standing in the doorway.

* The better class of gods, anyway. Not the ones with the tentacles, obviously.

~ “I let you sleep, Sam," said Lady Sybil. "You didn't get in this morning until after three."

"Everyone's double-shifting, dear," said Sam, daring Carrot and Sally to even think about telling anyone they'd seen the boss wearing a blue shawl covered in ducks. "I've got to set a good example."

"I'm sure you intend to, Sam, but you look like a horrible warning," said Sybil.

~ That was a phrase of Sybil’s that got to him. She’d announce at lunch: ‘We must have the pork tonight, it needs eating up.’ Vimes never had an actual problem with this, because he’d been raised to eat what was put in front of him, and do it quickly, too, before someone else snatched it away. He was just puzzled at the suggestion that he was there to do the food a favour.

Night Watch, Terry Pratchett

---

~ “What did I tell you about Mister Safety Catch?" said Vimes weakly.

"When Mister Safety Catch Is Not On, Mister Crossbow Is Not Your Friend," recited Detritus, saluting.

~ As soon as you saw people as things to be measured, they didn't measure up.

~ “In the words of the philosopher Sceptum, the founder of my profession: am I going to get paid for this?”

~ But the helmet had gold decoration, and the bespoke armorers had made a new gleaming breastplate with useless gold ornamentation on it. Sam Vimes felt like a class traitor every time he wore it. He hated being thought of as one of those people that wore stupid ornamental armor. It was gilt by association.

~ To his mild surprise, the men were still out in the yard. Someone had even hung up the swordsmanship targets, which would certainly be helpful if the watch-men were faced with an enemy who was armless and tied to a pole.

~ “Everybody does it!" Quirke burst out. "It's perks!"

"Everybody?" said Vimes. He looked around at the squad. "Anyone else here take bribes?"

His glare ran from face to face, causing most of the squad to do an immediate impression of the Floorboard and Ceiling Inspectors Synchronized Observation Team.

~ Winder's mind felt even fuzzier than it had done over the past few years, but he was certain about cake. He'd been eating cake, and now there wasn't any. Through the mists he saw it, apparently close but, when he tried to reach it, a long way away.

A certain realization dawned on him.

"Oh," he said.

YES, said Death.

"Not even time to finish my cake?"

NO. THERE IS NO MORE TIME, EVEN FOR CAKE. FOR YOU, THE CAKE IS OVER. YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF CAKE.

Howl's Moving Castle, Diana Wynne Jones

---

~ “Yes, you are nosy. You're a dreadfully nosy, horribly bossy, appallingly clean old woman. Control yourself. You're victimizing us all.”

~ “Go to bed, you fool," Calcifer said sleepily. "You're drunk."

"Who, me?" said Howl. "I assure you, my friends, I am cone sold stober." He got up and stalked upstairs, feeling for the wall as if he thought it might escape him unless he kept in touch with it. His bedroom door did escape him. “What a lie that was!” Howl remarked as he walked into the wall. “My shining dishonesty will be the salvation of me.” He walked into the wall several times more, in several different places, before he discovered his bedroom door and crashed his way through it. Sophie could hear him falling about, saying that his bed was dodging.

~ “Annoyed?” said Sophie. “Why should I be annoyed? Someone only filled the castle with rotten aspic, and deafened everyone in Porthaven, and scared Calcifer to a cinder, and broke a few hundred hearts. Why should that annoy me?”

Spinning Silver, Naomi Novik

---

~ He was nearly my father's age, and a man who lived almost entirely on the surface. But he wasn't a fool, or cruel. And more to the point, I was reasonably certain he wasn't going to try and devour my soul. My expectations for a husband had lowered.

~ "You didn't need my name to threaten me and drag me from my home. And you thought that made me unworthy, instead of you."

~ "You never ask for a thing. It's only what we press into your hands that you take."

"What you press into my hands is more than all I have!" I said, because it hurt to hear her saying those things that were not true, as if I had only come and helped her to be good, and not because I wanted silver, and I wanted to be safe.

"Then you don't have enough, and I have more than I need," she said. "Hush, sweetheart. You don't have a mother anymore, but let me speak to you with her voice a minute. Listen. There are men who are wolves inside, and want to eat up other people to fill their bellies. That is what was in your house with you, all your life. But here you are with your brothers, and you are not eaten up, and there is not a wolf inside you. You have fed each other, and you kept the wolf away. That is all we can do for each other in the world, keep the wolf away. And if there has been food in my house for you, then I am glad, glad with all my heart. I hope there will always be."

(...)

I reached out my hands to them, suddenly: I put out my hand to Sergey on one side, and to Stepon on the other, and they put out their hands to me, and to each other, and we held tight, tight; we made a circle together, my brothers and me, around the food that we had been given, and there was no wolf in the room.

Tress of the Emerald Sea, Brandon Sanderson

---

~ In the land where everyone screams, everyone is also slightly deaf.

~ "That man is a few eggs short of a dozen - and he doesn't realize the other ten he collected are actually rocks."

~ It should be noted that Tress would have made an excellent philosopher. In fact, she had already determined that philosophy wasn’t as valuable as she’d assumed—something that takes most great philosophers at least three decades to realize.

~ Now, you might say to me, “Hoid, this entire story has shown me the opposite. Lem’s family is always scrimping to survive.” And I would reply, “Please stop interrupting.”

~ It was Hoid, cabin boy of the Whistlebow. There was no mistaking his gangly figure and his pure white head of hair. Though everyone called him 'boy', he appeared to be in his thirties and evidently of sound mind -- until he opened his mouth.

"My gums sure do like a lickin'!" he said to her, then walked away with a bowlegged gait that made him wobble like a drunk penguin.

Yes, that's me.

No, I don't want to talk about it.

As I wandered off to go stuff shoelaces up my nose...

~ If you're wondering, I have it on good authority that Ulaam was enjoying himself during my regrettable period of indisposition. He made no move to break my curse, and instead wrote some extremely embarrassing accounts of my actions and sent them to several good friends of ours.

~ Tress didn’t understand that it is quite possible to be so bad at something it seems implausible. In these cases, it stands to reason that such a person is in fact quite competent—because it takes true competence to feign such spectacular incompetence. It’s called the transitive property of ineptitude, and is the explanation for anything you’ve seen me do wrong ever.

~ Memory is often our only connection to who we used to be. Memories are fossils, the bones left by dead versions of ourselves. More potently, our minds are a hungry audience, craving only the peaks and valleys of experience. The bland erodes, leaving behind the distinctive bits to be remembered again and again. Painful or passionate, surreal or sublime, we cherish those little rocks of peak experience, polishing them with the ever-smoothing touch of recycled proxy living. In so doing—like pagans praying to a sculpted mud figure—we make of our memories the gods which judge our current lives.

~ With a few tips, he wasn’t so boring after all. Secretly, I’ll tell you that you aren’t either. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to lower your value. Don’t trust them. They know they can’t afford you otherwise.

~ The mechanics might bore you. The results, though, were spectacular. I was wearing a floral buttoned shirt, shorts that were way too short, and sandals. 

With socks.

"Hello, Riina," I said. "I hope your last few years have been exactly as lovely as you are."

She lowered her hands, her jaw dropping.

"Why, yes," I said, gesturing to my current clothing. "I do know this outfit is awful. I realize one should never bring up politics at dinner with one's in-laws. And I know that you, my dear, are living proof that someone doesn't need to be the least bit funny to be an utter clown."

Start of Darkness, Rich Burlew

---

~ "When you're dead, you're never going to look back on your life and say, 'Darn, I didn't spend enough time on petty revenge.'"

~ "Lirian? Can you hear me?"

"Dory? Dory, is that you?"

"Yes, my love. I've failed. It looks as if I am to share your prison forever now... "

"No, no... Not a prison anymore."

~ "We'll just go about our daily business, and you can hide from the horrifying truth of what you've become -- namely, a murderer who just killed his baby brother in cold blood. And hey, we can both pretend that you don't really have any options about any of the despicable actions I ask you to take from here on out -- rather than acknowledging that, like Right-Eye, you do in fact have a choice. But unlike Right-Eye there, you're too chickenshit to ever make it. You'll obey me forever, because I give you an excuse for your inexcusable behavior. Now, are you going to stand there and tell me that I'm wrong? Didn't think so."

The Goblin Emperor, Katherine Addison

---

~ "In our inmost and secret heart, which you ask us to bare to you, we wish to banish them as we were banished, to a cold and lonely house, in the charge of a man who hated us. And we wish them trapped there as we were trapped."

"You consider that unjust, Serenity?"

"We consider it cruel," Maia said. "And we do not think that cruelty is ever just."

The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf, Gerald Morris

---

~ The next day, to the joy of all of Arthur's court, Sir Gareth was wed to the fair Lady Lyonesse of Cornwall. All who beheld the couple declared that ne'er had so handsome a knight wed so beautiful a maiden. At the same time, Sir Gaheris was wedded to the Lady Lynet, younger sister to the Lady Lyonesse. They looked alright too.

The Lioness and Her Knight, Gerald Morris

---

~ “Of course it's juggling,” the man in motley was saying [...] “You know what your problem is, Sir Grenall? You've been seduced by the lure of spectacle. Sure, I could juggle three or four balls and use two hands, and that would be very impressive, but then what would I do after that? Five balls? Three hands? You see how it goes? Now me, I'm an artist, trying to recapture the original purity of the art form. This” - the man nodded at the ball he tossing up and down - “this is the essence of juggling.”

The Raven Boys, Maggie Stiefvater

---

~ “My words are unerring tools of destruction, and I’ve come unequipped with the ability to disarm them.”

~ Gansey had once told Adam that he was afraid most people didn't know how to handle Ronan. What he meant by this was that he was worried that one day someone would fall on Ronan and cut themselves.

~ She recognized the strange happiness that came from loving something without knowing why you did, that strange happiness that was sometimes so big that it felt like sadness.

~ From the passenger seat, Ronan began to swear at Adam. It was a long, involved swear, using every forbidden word possible, often in compound-word form. As Adam stared at his lap, penitent, he mused that there was something musical about Ronan when he swore, a careful and loving precision to the way he fit the words together, a black-painted poetry. It was far less hateful sounding than when he didn’t swear.

Ronan finished with, “For the love of … Parrish, take some care, this is not your mother’s 1971 Honda Civic.”

Adam lifted his head and said, “They didn’t start making the Civic until ’73.”

~ People shout when they don’t have the vocabulary to whisper.

~ Adam had once told Gansey, "Rags to riches isn't a story anyone wants to hear until after it's done.”

~ It's a hard thing to hold a civil conversation after recalling that one party has used a Taser on the other, so both of them finished the walk in silence.

~ Blue was a fanciful, but sensible thing. Like a platypus, or one of those sandwiches that had been cut into circles for a fancy tea party.

~ Ronan and Declan Lynch were undeniably brothers, with the same dark brown hair and sharp nose, but Declan was solid where Ronan was brittle. Declan’s wide jaw and smile said Vote for me while Ronan’s buzzed head and thin mouth warned that this species was dangerous.

~ Also, truth be told, he wasn't very good at flying a helicopter, despite several lessons. He seemed to lack the important ability to orient himself vertically as well as horizontally, which led to disagreements involving trees.

~ “Aquamarine is a wonderful color, and I won’t be made to feel bad for wearing it.”

~ “Oh!” said the voice. “Well. How lovely to meet you. What did you say your name was? I’m Roger Malory.” He was doing something extremely complicated with his r’s that made him difficult to understand.

“Blue. My name’s Blue Sargent.”

“Blair?”

“Blue.”

“Blaize?”

Blue sighed. “Jane.”

“Oh, Jane! I thought that you were saying Blue for some reason. It’s nice to meet you, Jane.”

The Dream Thieves, Maggie Stiefvater

---

~ “So what you're saying is you can't explain it."

"I did explain it."

"No, you used nouns and verbs together in a pleasing but illogical format.”

~ Sometimes Ronan thought Adam was so used to the right way being painful that he doubted any path that didn’t come with agony.

~ Calla readjusted, wrapping the silk around her other thigh instead. "Which one's he again? The pretty one?"

Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue's look said, I'm so, so sorry. Gansey's said, Am I the pretty one?

~ A tiny part of Gansey's brain said: You have been staring for too long. The larger part of his brain said: ORANGE.

~ “You’re being creepy,” Blue said. “Maybe you mean to be, but in case you’re just being accidentally creepy, I thought I’d let you know.”

~ Malory smacked his lips — he was really the absolute worst human to speak to on the telephone — and considered. “I’m looking at, what does this seem to be? West of England Tumbler, I should think. Yes. Lovely example. You should see his muffs. Right next to him is a dreadful little Thuringen Field Pigeon. I’ve never had them but I’m quite certain they aren’t meant to have that hideous stallion neck. I have no idea what this one is. Let’s read the card. Anatolian Ringbeater. Of course. Oh, and here’s a German Beauty Homer.” 

“Oh, those are my favorite,” Gansey said. “I am a fan of a good German Beauty Homer.” 

“Gansey, don’t make light,” Malory said sternly. “Those things look like bloody puffins.” 

Adam’s body shook in silent convulsions of laughter. Gansey took a moment to catch his breath before asking, “And what’s that sound in the background?” 

“Let me take a gander,” Malory replied. There was a crackling sound, and then his voice, rather louder than before, said, “They’re auctioning off some birds.” 

“What sort? Please tell me German Beauty Homers.”

"Pigmy Pouters," Malory replied. "Feisty ones!"

Gansey mouthed Blue at Adam. Adam let out a little wail of helpless laughter.

"You never took me to any pigeon shows while I was there," Gansey said reproachfully.

(...)

"Well. I don't know how helpful that was."

Adam said, "We found out German Beauty Homers look like bloody puffins."

[lovesick-rambles]

Take It Easy

commission for: @so-many-crushes

summary: After a long, stressful day, Lily Lord is happy to finally be home with their love, Matt Murdock so that they can finally relax for a bit

word count: 2k

author's note: Thank you so much for commissioning me, Khourey! I enjoyed writing this for you! :)

banner credit: cafekitsune

“Oh man,” Lily sighed, unlocking the door to her and Matt’s apartment, “Finally home. Thank God.”

“Yeah, I’m glad too.” Matt entered, following the sound of her voice, “Today was a long, long day.”

“Ugh, ‘long’ is an understatement for what today was.” They groaned, throwing herself on the couch, “My word, I was convinced today would kill me. I’m surprised I was able to come home on time with you, too.”

He took a spot next to her and turned to face her, “Really? How is it that I’m a lawyer and you have more work than me? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Okay, hotshot. You don’t need to rub in the fact that you have a better job than me!” They halfheartedly laughed, “But yeah, I’ve been dealing with a lot more work than usual. It’s really getting to me.”

“Is it because someone doesn’t know how to say ‘no’, hmm?” The corners of his smile tugged into a smirk.

“...Maybe?” Lily giggled sheepishly, “I mean, if I don’t do it, who will?”

“How about another reporter? Since that is, you know, their job?” Matt’s arm found Lily’s shoulders and wrapped it around them, pulling her closer to his chest, “You shouldn’t take on so much work if it’s affecting you this badly.”

They sighed and leaned into him, blushing a little at the sudden affection, “I know, but I don’t at the same time, I guess. I don’t know, I just feel like I need to work a lot and bite off more than I can chew sometimes.”

Matt hummed, listening to Lily intently. From where she was leaning on his chest, he could hear her steady heartbeat. He slowly rubbed their scalp with his fingers while she talked about her long, stressful day. Lily detailed just how much work they’ve been taken on in the past week on top of the pile of work they did today. She talked about how she took on story after story, even ones her coworkers were supposed to take on but “didn’t have the time for”. She described how all of this led to a small existential crisis, making them wonder if this is how they’re going to live the rest of her life. They confessed to being stressed about being stuck in a never ending cycle of working this hard and being too anxious to say no or set boundaries. As Lily continued talking about her day, she grew embarrassed to be so stressed about something so seemingly small to her. But, they moved past that embarrassment when Matt offered comfort, advice, or even when he didn’t say anything at all. Just knowing that he was there listening and not judging them made her feel better about her stress. 

“So, yeah,” They concluded, exhaling softly, “That’s how my day went. Or, how my life is going currently. But, enough about me! Please, tell me about your day.”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t as intense as yours.” Matt confessed, “But, it was busy. That’s the life of a lawyer, you know? Especially one who wears such sick shades all the time.” He tapped the temple of his glasses and smirked.  

“I bet your clients think you’re a rockstar before you introduce yourself with sunglasses like yours.” Lily joked, leaning against him more, “Did you have a good day, at least? Anything to report like me?”

“I mean, it was like any usual day for me. Nothing special. Not bad, but not the best day of my life. Besides,” He planted a soft kiss on her temple, “My day is better now that I’m home here with you.”

They blushed, feeling their face burn intensely. She was a little relieved he can’t see how bright red their cheeks are right now because of how embarrassingly warm they were. If he could, they know that he would never let her live it down. Despite being together for a while, Matt’s flirting never failed to make Lily feel the same butterflies they did when they first started dating. She grabbed his hand, locking their fingers with his and rubbed his hand with her thumb, “I feel the same. It’s nice to be home here with you. It lets my stress melt away for a while and just focus on you and us.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other’s company after a long day apart. Lily was cozy in Matt’s arms and he rested his head on top of hers, still listening to their gentle heartbeat with his heightened hearing. They then moved on to mindless chit chat, talking about anything that suddenly came to mind. They discussed the usual cliche small talk topics, like the weather or recent mundane events. The topics then moved on to date ideas, shows they were interested in trying, or when was their last disappointing lunch. 

“Say, I have an idea.” Matt chimed in after thinking for a little bit.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I’m all ears!” Lily responded, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I’m also all ears.” He replied sarcastically, laughing at his own joke. 

They gently pushed him away, laughing, “You know that’s not what I meant! What are you thinking?”

“Well, do you feel like making dinner tonight? After everything you’ve been dealing with today?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

She paused, forgetting how late it was, “No, I really don’t.”

“I thought not. So, I was thinking we should order some take out tonight. Your choice, my treat. What do you say?”

“Oh, no! You don’t have to do that!” They smiled to herself, “You don’t have to pay for food! I just have to stop being lazy and then I’ll whip up some dinner.”

“I know I don’t have to.” He shrugged, “I want to. Besides, you told me that you don’t feel like making it, so let’s make it easy for us.”

“But-”

“Nope, no protests.” He pressed his palm against her mouth and interrupted her, “Just tell me what you want and I’ll order it. Okay? Okay.”

Lily sighed, knowing that nothing would convince Matt otherwise, “Fine. I’ll grab one of the old Chinese menus I have laying around here.”

“You’re a peach.” He responded, feeling them get up from her spot on the couch and hearing her footsteps descending. It wasn’t long before Lily found a menu that she saved from the last time they ordered food, which was a while ago. They couldn’t remember the last time they had the time or the energy to order food, she had been relying on ramen and quick easy-to-make meals as of late. When she returned to her spot, she and Matt went back to jokingly arguing about what to pick out, who would get it, and of course, who would be paying. Finally, Lily caved and begrudgingly agreed to let him pay for the both of them. They kept trying to do the math in her head and pick the cheapest option so that Matt didn’t pay a hefty amount, but he was having none of it. Again, they went back and forth about this, Lily trying to justify her getting the smallest item since it was the cheapest and Matt threatening to pick the most expensive item for her if they didn’t tell him exactly what they wanted and just assume that she’d like it. Once again, they caved and finally picked something she actually wanted. They then went to call the restaurant and place the order for the both of them.

“Alright,” Lily hung up and turned to Matt, “Our food should be here in about half an hour, give or take.”

“Finally!” He laughed, “Wow, ordering food with you is like pulling teeth, you know that?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate you threatening to drop like $30 for a single dish!” She lightly punched his arm, laughing.

He feigned injury and let out an exaggerated yelp, rubbing the spot they hit, “Is it so bad that I wanted you to feel better? Jeez, don’t worry, I won’t do it again!” 

She snickered, “I do really appreciate it, Matt. Thank you very much.”

“Sure thing, I’m happy to treat you.” He opened his arms and invited her to snuggle up against him again, which they happily accepted, “I just want you to feel at least a little better.”

“You’re doing an excellent job of that. Trust me.” They gave him a small kiss on the cheek, “Thank you again.”

“That’s what I’m here for, right?” He turned towards her, smiling a little, “Not to bring up one of your biggest stressors again, but I definitely think you should take it easy at work.”

“I know,” Lily muttered, “I have a lot of work waiting for me tomorrow, too. I’m not looking forward to it.”

“You know, when I suggested taking it easy, I meant immediately.” He chuckled softly, “Seriously. Admit to someone that it’s too much work at once and see if someone else is willing to take it on. Or, if it’s not time sensitive, you can put it off for a little while and take your time.”

“I don’t know.” They frowned, “I already said yes to doing it all and I don’t want to seem inconsistent. I don’t want to just back out as soon as I agreed to it.”

“Okay, but also it’s okay to tell someone that you misjudged the workload.” Matt shrugged, “I personally think it’s better to be embarrassed about confessing how you didn’t manage your time right or that you thought it would be a bit easier than to be stuck with it and ripping your hair out at your desk.”

“I don’t pull my hair out! I bite my nails, duh!” She joked, hoping that would make him less worried about them.

“Fine, but I still prefer the first thing to you being stuck at your desk staring at your laptop biting your nails down.”

She thought for a moment. Deep down, they knew he was right. Work really was getting to her and honestly, they knew they had to get comfortable with setting boundaries sooner or later. She figured it was better to rip the bandaid off and get it over with as soon as possible. After a few moments of them being deep in thought, she eventually responded with, “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll see what I can do about it tomorrow.”

Matt grinned, “That’s what I wanted to hear. I just don’t want you working yourself too much.”

“Thank you so much.” They leaned in and gave him a long, loving kiss, “For everything.”

He kissed her back, cupping her cheeks in his hands, “Of course. Anything for you.”

The rest of their night together was romantic in a comfortable, domestic way. Their food arrived and Matt handed Lily the cash to cover it, including the tip and she didn’t protest it. They then got dressed in their pajamas to be even more cozy and returned to their spot on their loveseat, enjoying their take out and finding something trashy to watch on the television. Everything bad about today slowly faded out of existence, all that mattered to either of them was the present and each other. They settled on watching some random reality show that was playing, making a sarcastic comment about it every now and then. Eventually, as the night slowly continued, they both fell asleep on the loveseat with the television playing in the background. Lily was resting comfortably on Matt’s lap and his head was leaning against the back of the couch, mouth slightly agape. A blanket was partially covering them, but after a while it crumpled on the floor in front of them. The only light in the apartment was the faint glow of the television that made the room look a little eerie. But, the couple were fast asleep and very content. There’s no telling how tomorrow would go for either of them or if it would be better than today, but they knew that no matter what they’d be there for each other. They would be happy to order take out again and talk about their days while some meaningless show played on. They were each other’s comfort.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN PROCRASTINATION

A good piece of software, could write a whole new piece of software. But most of the work done by small groups. VCs may just sell it at a low intensity for forty years, you work as hard as you possibly can. What rational basis could they have had for saying that? Could you reproduce Silicon Valley, where the troops of the central government can't follow. That's the good part. And if they are paying you x dollars a year, then on average you must be, but as a trick for getting users to start talking to you. If this were really a meaningless question, you might be able to decrease without having to go through the government.

You can't just sit there. I do it on that computer. A round if you do it so early. So although a lot of de facto control after a series A round has in the past, everyone wants funding from them, it's good news that investors are looking for big hits. Don't worry about people stealing your ideas. You don't win fights by thinking of big ideas but by thinking of tricks that work in one particular case. This is a complicated topic. If I had to start treating it differently. Only a few companies have been smart enough to realize this so far. It's not till you start the conversation by launching the wrong thing.

I didn't realize exactly what was happening to us, please stay on the line, do you think, then choose/design the language that feels best. It's very dangerous to start worrying too late. But my instincts tell me you don't have to be careful who you pick as a cofounder, and that explains most of the surprises. Maybe that will help, if you did? Eventually you get new habits, but at its strongest it is far stronger. 0 companies were started outside the usual startup hubs, but two of them have already been reeled in through acquisitions. Mark Zuckerberg will never get to do it. He succeeded despite being a complete noob at startups, because he understood his users really well.

But it is not only manufacturing companies that create wealth. You should lean more toward firing people if the source of your trouble is overhiring. Why do people take too long on the first version of Facebook. The 20th best player may feel he has been misjudged. Let's look at our case. Why are founders fooled by this? What you need to be very good at business or have any kind of creative vision. Symbols differ from strings in that you can never safely treat fundraising as more than a mediocre local maximum: When someone is determined, there's still a danger that they'll follow a long, hard path that ultimately leads nowhere. In most other cities, the prospect of starting a startup is like a hang-glider launch: you'd better do it wholeheartedly, or not. They're not Goody Two-Shoes type good. It has to set off alarms.

One reason it's hard to change something so simple as a name, imagine how hard it is to do a really good job on anything you don't think about in the shower. Nerds are a distinct type of rich people, it will be easy to raise more, and the next week no one will know if you fail. A company is defined by the schleps it will undertake. Gaming the system may continue to work if you go to a new set of buildings, and do things that you do not, ordinarily, enjoy doing. And what's your real job supposed to be bound by some plan you made early on. In the Valley, lightning has a sign bit. They don't want to face what is usually the real reason there aren't more Googles is not that most towns kill startups. Fortunately if this does happen it will take over your life to satisfy a process so mindless that there's a whole industry devoted to subverting it. A decade from now the players will be hard to tell apart, and there are companies that will give $20k to a startup that has nothing more than a plan A. And more importantly, by selecting that small a group you can get over the threshold by cutting salaries a little, you might be able to enjoy them in peace. Rejection is a question, not an answer. I said something to a partner at a well known VC firm that gave him the mistaken impression I was considering starting another startup.

So you must consciously discount for that. The only place your judgement makes a difference is in the borderline cases. We were not far off: this was the sort of problems hackers are used to solving, giving customers what they want. Within the US, there are advantages to serendipity too, especially early in life. Startups hurt themselves way more often than competitors hurt them, for example, instead of making users happy. A quarter of their life. Your contribution may be indirect. When I talk to don't know whether they're default alive or default dead? There isn't so much a phone as a replacement for a phone. Because VCs like publicity. Maybe it's just because knowledge about them hasn't permeated our culture yet. That's the real point of startups.

We're trying to find the most promising range of options afterward. The startup may have more long-term plan pleases everyone. A lot of founders that was the big surprise: How hard it is to live in Pittsburgh or Ithaca. You probably do need to be solved. I do that the main purpose of a company, and a startup that depends on deals with big companies to exist, it often feels like they're trying to ignore you out of existence. The articles are full of descriptions of problems that need to be in twenty years, and then thinking of the answer in the shower in the morning is more important than I'd thought. If you work patiently it's less stressful, and you prosper only to the extent you do. The second dimension is the one you have most control over is how much things changed as they grew. When I ask people what they regret most about high school, I now realize, is that they've been trained to do for their whole lives to jump through predefined hoops.

So few businesses really pay attention to making customers happy. Customers are used to being maltreated. Optimizing in solution-space is familiar and straightforward, but you can get over the threshold by cutting salaries a little, nimble guy being chased by a big, independent company is the same as just being able to do work worth about $3 million a year seems high to some people, it will take over your life for a lot of new areas. A company that an angel is willing to put $50,000 into at a valuation of a million can't take $6 million from VCs at that valuation. Complaining that VCs were jerks used to seem as naive to me as complaining that users didn't read the reference manual. But the first is by far the biggest problem. Now everyone can, and we want to keep in close touch as you develop it further. So any language comparison where you have to pay a little more than they would in a big company is not afraid to be sued; it's an everyday thing for them to average their work together with a small group of their peers. There are two different ways people judge you. Procrastination feeds on distractions. He responded so eagerly that for about half a second I found myself considering doing it.

Thanks to Patrick Collison, Jeff Weiner, Jessica Livingston, Sarah Harlin, and David Sloo for inviting me to speak.

[josenoelrobles]

The Wrong Team Can Kill Your Dreams (And Bank Account)

Introduction: Imagine this: You're standing on the precipice of success. Your vision is clear, your passion is burning... but your team is a dumpster fire. Misunderstandings, missed deadlines, and a toxic atmosphere slowly poison your progress. Your dream isn't just dying – it's being murdered by incompetence. This isn't a horror story; it's the chilling reality faced by countless entrepreneurs and small business owners. The wrong team can literally bankrupt your dreams. My Own Personal Nightmare Would you pay someone to go and rob you? Absolutely not! But that is what we do every time that we hire the wrong person. Not only do we need to hire the right person, but we also have to know when to hire. Me personally I have made the mistake of hiring the wrong individual, at the wrong time, and for the wrong reason too. An employee should either save you money or make you money. If he or she is not doing one of those 2 you need to fire that person. Either they are not doing a good job or you did not need them in the first place. And if you are working for somebody else; don't you ever think that you are being paid what you are worth. That will never happen unless you own your own business. The company or person that you are working for needs your work to produce enough money so it can cover your salary, and business expenses and of course, make additional money for the company. That is called capitalism. Back when I had the trucking company I made a mistake that cost me a contract with the USPS that we had. Because I made a bad hiring decision, I lost the contract and, therefore the majority of the revenue for the company. And that was the beginning of the end. That started a chain reaction that led me to my first bankruptcy. And everything is because of a bad hiring decision. In my case, it was the right person but at the wrong time. I experienced some success with that company and I went and got a nice office in a fancy building. I just wanted to fit my ego and show people where my business office was. One more time letting pride get the best of me. And so you know, what the bible says in Matthew 23:12 NIV: For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted. So God humbles me one more time but not before teaching several lessons about hiring the right people and the right time for the right reasons. I hire the right guy to run my office. But I hire a lot of wrong people to run the company's operations. I got lazy and didn't take the time to hire the right team. I thought that some positions in the company didn't require to have to best candidates. I just wanted to take some of the workload off my shoulders and I thought I could go by with less qualified individuals in some of the company's positions. I could not be more wrong. When I lost that federal contract, guess what happened? The first team members that I lost were the good ones. Because they didn't want to be part of a failing company and they knew they were good so they could get another job really easily. And I don't blame them. I would have done the same thing in their position. But I was stuck with those few bad apples. That lacked the skills, and work ethic required to try to get the company out of the hole that I put it in. I am not talking badly about them. They only knew what they knew. It was my fault in the first place for hiring the wrong individuals, and the wrong time, and for the wrong reasons. The moral of the story; take your time and do your research well before you hire someone. That decision can make or break your business. The High Cost of Bad Hires (And It's Not Just Financial) My story isn't unique. Research by the U.S. Department of Labor estimates that the cost of a bad hire can equal 30% of the employee's first-year earnings. But that's just the tip of the iceberg. A 2023 Gallup study found that actively disengaged employees cost the global economy $7.8 TRILLION in lost productivity. It's not just about the money; it's about: - Morale: A bad apple spoils the bunch. One toxic team member can create a culture of negativity that infects everyone. - Turnover: Constant hiring and firing is expensive and time-consuming. A revolving door of employees can destabilize your entire business. - Missed Opportunities: While you're dealing with internal chaos, your competitors are innovating and gaining market share. - Burnout: As a leader, the stress of managing a dysfunctional team can lead to exhaustion and disillusionment. The Antidote: Building Your Dream Team The good news? It's entirely possible to build a team that elevates your vision, not destroys it. Here are the essentials: - Values Alignment: Hire people who share your passion and work ethic. This is far more important than technical skills alone. - Clear Communication: Set crystal-clear expectations from day one. Regularly check in and provide feedback. - Diverse Skills: Seek out individuals with complementary strengths and weaknesses. A well-rounded team is a resilient team. - Accountability: Establish a culture where everyone is responsible for their actions and results. - Investment in Growth: Provide ongoing training and development opportunities to keep your team engaged and motivated. Conclusion: The Future of Your Dream Is in Their Hands The people you hire are not just employees; they are co-creators of your destiny. Take the time to find the right team – the ones who will inspire you, challenge you, and help you bring your vision to life. The success (and sanity) you'll gain are worth far more than any short-term financial savings you might achieve by settling for less. Remember: Your dream deserves a team that will fight for it, not against it. Read the full article

[nonegenderleftpain]

I appreciate the response. I've lived in barn cat areas as well, and my focus is definitely more on the ethical perspective of leaving invasive predators to roam than it is keeping a bunch of feral cats alive. We have culling programs for all kinds of wild animals when they cause problems, such as deer, but cats are given the exception because they are domesticated (your statement about it being better PR is exactly right). I find this abhorrent, and I say that as someone whose favorite animal is cats. I grew up with my own cats, and interacting with non-socializable barn cats regularly, and my desire to see them alive does not override the damage they do to the ecosystem.

Not having someone on staff able to handle a terrier as a mouser is absolutely an agricultural priorities issue, and it's one that, in my opinion, needs to be changed. From my experience interacting with small farmers, the issue is very rarely the financing of buying a terrier bred for the job (most of them in my area have hunting dogs as well to put food on the table), it's an unwillingness to change how they do business. I know that isn't universal, and my small backwoods six person town with a bunch of Appalachian farmers is not indicative of how vineyards run their work - but they need to be putting the money into efforts to reduce the damage they do to the ecosystem by investing in terriers and phasing out barn cats. Just like "if you can't afford to pay your workers properly, your business deserves to fail," if you cannot afford to mitigate the mass extinction occurring by using other trusted measures, your business deserves to fail. It really isn't an acceptable excuse in any capacity.

I also want to address the statement of ferals not being able to be socialized. I don't think that you're saying that no feral can be, but many people do say that and I want to correct it for anyone reading. While there are some very few ferals that absolutely cannot be socialized to be around people, the vast majority of feral cats are able to be socialized with proper effort (I say this as someone who has worked in socializing feral cats for local shelters - in the three years I fostered for socialization, I had a single cat who could not be homed and was put down as a more humane option than setting him loose to die in the woods to coyotes). Most cats that are deemed incapable of being homed have been owned by people who do not know how cat socialization works and do not want to or can't put in the effort required.

I will double down on what I said - if you have a business and are looking for rodent control, get a dog bred for the purpose. Do not bring invasive predators into your area, especially if there were none there before. The local wildlife may be considered pests and be slated to be killed as well, but the burrowing snakes or shrews or birds you didn't know were on your property will also die, and the miles beyond your property that cats are known to roam do not deserve to be under attack because of your business. I understand that it's the norm in the field, but that doesn't make it right or sustainable, and the damage it does cannot be undone. I understand that as a business owner, it is a difficult cost - I grew up surrounded by farmers. But costs are part of owning a business, and just because pollution levels are regulated by the EPA and the effect of barn cats are not does not mean that taking the easy solution is an acceptable or appropriate answer to the problem.

(None of this is meant to be aggressive - tone regulation is impossible on the internet, I swear. I really do appreciate you taking the time to answer and talk about the reality of the situation instead of just throwing "but what about barn cats!" as a gotcha. Honestly, I think in this particular conversation, it's an unnecessary diversion from the topic that draws attention away from the point, and to say that working cats and outdoor cats aren't the same, while I understand that the difference is notable to you, isn't the case *in the context of the discussion.* I recognize you said as much in your first sentence, I don't want you to think I wasn't listening. I just wanted to clarify why I pushed back against you in the first place. The discussion of sustainable ways of mousing for small farms and the egregious cost of purebred dogs is a separate discussion than the discussion of outdoor pet cats, and people use it as an excuse to shut down any criticism of their decision to let their pet roam unsupervised. I do not want to muddy the discussion about outdoor pet cats with information people can use to misquote and dodge responsibility for their pets.)

happy earth day. don’t forget that someone else’s outdoor cat is your indoor cat

[divicashinsights]

How I Built My Side Hustle While Working a Full-Time Job in 2024 – And Gained the Freedom to Work From Anywhere

Starting a side hustle while juggling a full-time job can feel impossible, especially in 2025. The stress, the exhaustion, the constant to-do lists—it seems like there’s just no time for both. But what if I told you it’s not only possible, but worth it?

Here’s how I made it work:

A few years ago, I was stuck in a 9-5 grind. I felt drained, uninspired, and burned out. But I had a burning desire to earn money online, work from anywhere, and escape the daily commute. Yet, I had no idea where to start.

Fast forward to now, and I’ve built a side hustle that gives me the freedom I’ve always wanted. 🌍 No more being tied to a desk, no more 2-hour commutes, and no more feeling like my time wasn’t my own. But it didn’t happen overnight—it took strategy, focus, and a ton of trial and error.

Here’s the reality: According to a 2024 survey, 44% of people have a side hustle, and 73% say it’s helping them achieve financial freedom. But here’s the catch—balancing a side hustle with a full-time job is HARD. Burnout is real, and it can feel like there’s never enough time in the day.

So, how do you build your side hustle without burning out? Here are the steps that worked for me:

1. Time-block like a pro 🗓️

Treat your side hustle like a second job. Dedicate specific hours during the week, even if it’s just 1-2 hours a day. Consistency is key, and those small, focused hours add up over time.

2. Start small, scale smart 📈

Don’t try to do everything at once. I started with freelance writing, and once that gained traction, I expanded into creating digital products. Start with 1-2 services/products that align with your skills.

3. Automate everything 🤖

Use tools like scheduling apps (Buffer, Hootsuite) or automatic invoicing software to streamline your side hustle. This saves hours each week and frees up your time for more creative work.

4. Prioritize your health & well-being 🧘

You can’t build a business if you’re burnt out. Sleep, exercise, and mental breaks are just as important as work. Burnout will kill your productivity faster than anything else.

5. Find your tribe 👥

Surround yourself with like-minded people. Join online communities, mastermind groups, or find a mentor who’s been through it. The support will keep you motivated when things get tough.

The Result?

Today, I’m earning from multiple income streams—all while working remotely, traveling, and living on my own terms. But it took patience, perseverance, and a willingness to learn.

Why do so many people fail at side hustles?

It’s simple—fear of failure, frustration over slow progress, and overwhelm. But here’s the truth: If I can do it, so can you. You don’t need to wait for the perfect time to start.

Final Thoughts

Building a side hustle while working a full-time job isn’t easy, but it’s absolutely worth it. Starting now is the best decision you can make for your future.

What’s stopping you from building your side hustle? Is it fear of failure or just the overwhelming idea of getting started?

Let me know in the comments!

[throwaway-yandere]

Not Through The Grapevine (Yandere Idol!Diluc Ragnvindr/Reader)

Alice's, mother of Klee, note: Wouldn't it be funny if you ended up producing 5wirl or Kreideprinz? Haha! I don't think your little friend would like that. He might just take my wine cellar away– stick with Diluc, dove. 

P.S: Producer Lumine, can I just write "a/n" next time? This poor mother's getting tired of typing :'(

1k event masterlist

------

"At this time I decide to,

Get over you and 

Want to tell you not through

The grapevine but directly"

- Sakyo-taifu Michimasa

This was the most recent poem you found tucked within your favorite book, printed on a red square paper. The paper looked pretty– and it was faintly scented with grapes too. At first, you assumed it must have been picked up off the floor and put somewhere, and that "somewhere" just so happened to be one of your favorite books.

"Damn it. Help me…" You chuckled nervously. "Can't believe those stalkers thought my book was one of ADDICKTZ again…"

Which "tea" will they spill this time, you wonder? Will they leak that Dainsleif likes "The Scarlet King's Court Jester"? Or maybe they'll say that Zhongli is trying to reconnect with the modern age by reading contemporary fantasy novels? You rolled your eyes, shaking the love letter like you would with a polaroid. 

Oh wow, the contents of this letter are so enthralling. 10/10. You're so impressed. Great job, stalkers.

It's lovely poetry, but once you encounter numerous stalker fans, it sours and loses its charm. After being friends with Diluc, Kaeya, and Ajax for most of your life, you've grown incredibly desensitized by unhinged fans. You have so many bizarre expectations of them that you can't remember the last time you were actually astonished by something they did. Perhaps you'd be surprised if this love letter was for Itto– he doesn't like novels or receiving these types of riddle-y love letters. He'd probably prefer getting a used towel instead.

But there's always theory number #2:

It's possible that Kaedehara Kazuha from the other unit wrote this.

The thought of him made a goofy smile creep up your face unsuspectingly. Damn it. You're starting to feel like one of those fangirls– but can you blame yourself? Kaedehara Kazuha is just so utterly captivating. Maybe he's the one who intentionally put this in your book– can't a person dream? There's nothing wrong with imagining yourself as the protagonist of some romantic escapade with an idol, right? 

Someone cleared their throat.

"Oh, freaki–" You jolted and nearly dropped the card. When you caught a clear view of his face, you immediately felt relieved.

"Ah, good evening Master Diluc." You bowed slightly, sneakily slipping the red paper back inside your book. "You have nothing in your schedule for this week."

"Is that so?" He hummed with a small smile on his face. "Well, do you have anything on yours?"

"It's positively empty, sir." You grinned.

"P-Please, (Y/n)." He covered his face with one hand, avoiding your feigned business-as-usual eyes. "I know that you're my producer now but can we drop the act?"

"We can, but this is so much fun though!" You beamed. "It's like our friendship got ten extra steps– don't take that fun away from me!"

Diluc grunted laconically. You do have a point. The only real change from being a childhood friend to a producer was a fancier title and a damn good paycheck. Fans would kill to be Diluc Ragnvindr's childhood friend AND producer. There's no one else he trusts as much as you. He was a reckless child and you were always there to stop him from getting into trouble. You never failed to clean up after him whenever he decided he'd build a massive medieval lego set. 

That's why it's such a miracle that he grew up to be such a quiet and reserved person. To think this was your friend who got banned from Disneyland of all places– Nowadays, he's more focused on inheriting his father's company and this "unexpected side hustle" of his.

"Dove, since we're both free– do you want to try a bottle of this year's wine?"

"Diluc, we're good friends, so you know that we both loathe wine, right?"

"Ngh, you're right. I can't say I know what possessed me to ask that question." He flinched. "Wait, no, I do– listen (Y/n), Adeline wanted me to come to a Snezhnayan Dawn Winery event this Friday and I don't have a plus one."

"Oh?"

Not that it happens often but Diluc's hilariously affectionate when he's completely inebriated. He does not do well with foreign alcohol. When you were both rebellious teens, he went out and drank a bottle of fire-water with Ajax behind Uncle Crepus' back. This was around the time these two "frenemies" started getting along. A few hours later, Diluc sent you a couple of slurred-voiced messages of how much he loves and cares about you– which was abruptly wrapped up by two quick texts:

"as a comrade of course"

"***friend i mean friend."

Given how awkward it was, you promised Diluc that you won't tell a single soul about this when morning came and he seemed both mortified and relieved about your proposal… You'd rather not have a "part two" of that.

In addition, Ajax acted weird around you ever since. He always gives you a look of pity. Last week, you asked him how he knew the password to your phone when he lost his phone and needed to call his producer. He answered that he "got it from Diluc when he was drunk" with a traumatized look on his face. That was four years ago; you're all in your twenties now. You've changed all your passwords since then. 

You want to help him, but you're still a bit hesitant. He's bound to drink fire-water this Friday. Given how you and Ajax would be unwilling to accompany him, you decided to throw Kaeya under the bus.

"Why not invite your brother?"

Diluc's eyes squinted.

"Oh, right."

Kaeya's been absent for a week now, you're not sure why and his producer wasn't answering your calls. You wonder how they're doing…

"How about the others?"

"Everyone in ADDICKTZ is busy except for Producer Snail."

… Okay let's try to avoid that as much as possible. You don't want Itto's producer crying over some rich people's escargot.

"How about 5wirl-"

"Not happening."

You smiled sheepishly. He probably didn't want Venti to come. "Alright, you got me. It's hard to say no to you. I was only planning to laze around the house anyways."

"Thank you. I'll make it worth your mora."

"It better be because I'm not cheap, sir."

"(Y/n), please–"

—--

It was a Friday night and the two of you decided to meet up at the venue's parking lot first. You were leaning against a tree while waiting for him. When he did arrive, you saw him in a black tuxedo accentuated with red accents. There's no doubt about it. He's idol-worthy and more.

Compared to you, this is just... Gah, how can you even compare to him?

"Hey, um, you look great! Like usual, and I kinda feel bad that I showed up wearing this." You frowned. "So, um, is this... acceptable?"

He closed his eyes and chuckled. "Do you really have to ask that?"

"I'm not going to lie, I'm a bit self-con–"

"Don't be. You're breathtaking." Diluc crossed his arms and spoke earnestly. "Even if you wore the most atrocious outfit known to man, you'll forever be gorgeous to me."

You were still flustered. "That's sweet and all but it REALLY doesn't help me–"

"You're aesthetically pleasing. You have exquisite tastes– you picked just the right colors that match your eyes and I adore the way you styled your hair for tonight." He muttered with a scowl. "Seeing you put in this much effort… makes me want to delude myself that I am someone special to you, just this once."

You paused.

"But you are special to me."

Diluc smiled bitterly. "Not in the same way as him, no."

"What do you mean?"

"So, how much should I pay you for this?" He digressed jokingly, but his grin looked painful. "Surely, I have to pay a high price for commissioning a lovely fae."

You laughed. "Yeah. You owe me a pay raise, sir!"

Diluc shook his head. "... Another pay raise– Maybe I should stop calling you Dove and start calling you Mora from now on."

"Bold of you to assume I'd hate that."

"... Why are you my best friend, again? Anyways, do you have your purse?"

"Yes, I d–..." You ferreted your handbag. "–on't. No, no I don't– shit."

 "Of course, you forgot. Never mind, just stay close to me. Don't be obliged to drink anything even if they're pressuring you to. If you ever need to go home, I'll pay for the taxi." 

Diluc grabbed your hand and walked towards the venue. You looked down. His hands were warm– or maybe it was your own temperature you were sensing. One of Kaeya life's missions was to make you painfully aware that both your hands could melt an ice cube in under twenty seconds, so you're not too sure who's warm.

"...Is something wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing." You laughed. "I was just thinking that you're such a green flag, that's all."

His grip tensed up and he looked the other way. Is it just you or is he getting warmer? Diluc ran his free hand through his hair. He looked frustrated.

"How can I get over you when you're like this?"

"Diluc...?"

"Forget the event," Diluc said, stopping you both from entering. "Let's just head to my place."

What?!

"Hah?!" Canceling plans is usually the best feeling on earth but in this instance, it left you absolutely baffled.

"Wait here, I'll just make a call."

"Hey, Diluc, wait–"

—-------

[Ten missed calls from "Ajax."]

[Received 1 voicemail.]

"Diluc, I had a chat with Venti's producer earlier. Is it true that you're the one who sent death threats to stop the 5wirl and ADDICKTZ collab? Kinda hard to believe you'd go through such lengths– and REAALLL low for you to drop a week's work on everyone, comrade!"

"I don't get what your motives are either... Is it because of (Y/n)? C'mon, we both know they wouldn't like you as much as the Dove likes Kazuha. I'm sorry but you HAVE to accept that. Even if you wiretap their house and obsess so much about them that opportunity is just not gonna hap–"

[Delete.]

[Calling Ajax…]

"Tartaglia."

"Well, well. That's not a good opener. Are you gonna get your ass over and help us out? The fuck is up with this paperwork– why are we even helping the CEO's assistant write reports?!"

"No, actually, I need your help with something…"

*sigh* "Motherfucker. Alright, spill. What do you want?"

"I don't want to hurt them– God, I can't imagine myself doing something like that when they look this pretty tonight. Ajax, I beg you, you're the only one that can help me with this. How can I knock someone unconscious without using blunt force?"

"..."

"..."

"... Diluc, holy shit, what on earth are you planning?" 

Ansytea: huhu i hope your husband won't kill me– THANK YOU FOR JOINING THE 1K EVENT DOVE ANON!!! (This is still so surreal i cant believe i got permission to write abt you. most of us probably already know who this is anyways so dhjskwksoa happy 12k followers to you too!!!!)

[jellifysh]

Ride with you (part 9)

Or, Jungkook’s Ex-Fiancés Can Really Hold A Grudge

OT7 x reader (mafia au, Jungkook x reader focus, exes to lovers, eventual polyamory, this one has a LOT OF EXPLAINING and backstory, mission stuff, gun shots, blood, death but it’s none of the main characters, can you tell that Jimin and and Namjoon are my bias/bias wrecker bc I’m starting to notice a pattern in my writing, Yoongi waxes lyrical abt jk and I think it’s cute but you can totally skip over it I get a little self indulgent, no fr like Yoongi is just inner monologuing for his whole bit but I think it’s worth paying attention to the difference between what Yoongi thinks and what he actually says out loud)

The organizations.

Two infamous institutions unknown by most, the lucky people whose lives didn’t revolve around sowing trouble in the shadows.

You, however, had always been part of the unlucky few. The people who lived in violence and chaos. Murderers, thieves, mafias, they were all violent means to an end. Normal people think of them as evil, unnecessary, and something that needed to be ended forever. But life wasn’t so simple. People needed power, and when politicians wanted governments toppled, the organizations were there. When local gangs wanted drugs to fund their business, when thieves needed jobs, when normal people whose lives spiraled out of control needed help to get back on their feet, the organizations were there.

There were always two, as long as you could remember, at war with each other for supremacy. Jungkook’s was more well versed in trafficking— weapons, humans, drugs, the general type of illegal contraband that no one ever seemed to know the source of. Their agents infiltrated small gangs, built them up bigger and stronger and made them into their puppets. Anywhere there were figurehead regimes, or money being traded behind the scenes, it was the work of Chessman’s pawns. They trained their agents to be manipulative and sly, and never caught at the scene of the crime. They were a dog-eat-dog organization. If you wanted a higher position, you fought for it, your status was always in flux, and people were always being overthrown by the next most ambitious person.

Jungkook had been eighth in line for the Head out of 1,268 agents, a constant routine of clawing at every advantage and using every underhanded tactic he could get to get closer to the top, and he was almost there. But then he met you.

Your organization was versed in espionage and political affairs. Each and every person in the company was trained to be a human weapon. You all knew dozens of different fighting styles, hundreds of different languages, thousands of different types of poisons and when to use them. Your organization was rigid in structure and discipline, unlike Jungkook’s. The top stayed at the top and the agents were taught to kneel at their feet, punished if they ever bent out of line. You were nothing but tools, and were reminded of that constantly, made to think of yourselves as worthless disposable weapons, even though a single one of you could render a nation’s government to pieces. Your organization worked closely with officials who wanted more power, and framed and killed people who were in their way without leaving a trace, making the most brutal murders seem like accidents. You were one of Jackal’s top shadow puppets, and you liked it that way.

Until you met Jungkook. After the organizations realized how much of a threat they were to each other, they talked their agents with getting rid of other at every opportunity. You and Jungkook were specially assigned to each other, you skills making you an equal match, and the best equipped to handle each other. You often ran into each other on missions where your organizations fought over the same target. But something about him kept you from killing him. You don’t know why, but when you looked into his eyes the first time, you couldn’t complete your extra objective. You had never failed an order, you usually completed them in record time. You would call ordinarily call failing to complete an order a defect, but now, years later, you were sure it was a blessing. You and Jungkook danced around each other on missions, fighting but not hurting, teasing but never threatening. You quickly grew fond of each other, and even bonded over your shared struggles.

Jimin hummed to himself as he thumbed through your file, eyes scanning the papers. He idly swiveled in place while sitting in Namjoon’s fancy desk chair, one foot propped up on the desk.

Normally he wouldn’t go through the effort of reading a file. It wasn’t usually any of his business. Files were raw information, data gathered by Yoongi that Namjoon used to craft a mission. Whatever they needed to know, Namjoon would tell them.

But Jimin was curious. It was a weird feeling honestly, almost new with how long it had been. For so long he had been bored. Content, but bored. Bangtan was successful and feared and money had been flowing in almost nonstop. They owned half of downtown, and basically controlled the rest due to their surrounding allies following their every order. They had a monopoly on trade, and had squads full of adoring henchman to take care of any opponents. Everything was perfect, and it was boring.

In the years after Jungkook left, they’d had nothing but luck, and Jimin hated every second of it. Jungkook was a breath of fresh air, he brought light and laughter to the house and fun to their lives that they didn’t have before him. And when he left, he took all of that with him as well, and it was worse knowing how much happier they could be— how much happier they had been— with him there.

For a long while, they tried to pretend they were fine with him being gone. They were fine with an empty seat at the table instead of him pouting for them to feed him from their plates, they were fine without him running around and laughing and bumping things over, they were fine with some peace and quiet while they worked instead of him talking their ear off. Really, he was annoying, he was needy, he was clingy— he was far more work than than he was worth. He was definitely the most demanding pet they had ever had to entertain. And yet, their lives had never been so miserable without him.

Finding him again after he left was easy. But you were an unforeseen variable. Jimin could still feel the way his blood boiled when he saw you. A part of him thought Jungkook would be a wreck without them, he was always clinging to them in the manor, how could he ever live away from them after needing their attention for so long? But instead, he was off in the woods, happily playing house with you. How could he be happy when they were suffering?

But Jimin remembered, under all the rose tinted memories of the happiest days with Jungkook, there were bad days. Days where he would mope around, days where no one would spare him attention, days where they would snap at him out of irritation, days where he would get jealous. Before, Jimin never understood his jealousy. Of course they loved him, he was the one they kept around most, even if they paid attention to others. They proposed to him even, of course they wanted him around forever.

But, seeing the closeness between you and him, Jimin now understands just what that kind of jealousy feels like.

He tapped his fingers on the desk thoughtfully, staring down at the polished mahogany surface. Knowing you though, seeing you interact with Jungkook and the rest of the boys in the time you’ve been here, Jimin can’t help but think. You had skill, plenty of it. In the time you’ve been here, you’ve done nothing but prove it. While you irritated him, something else in him flared back to life seeing you in action. The way you moved and fought was so precise, so calculated, so deadly and yet beautiful he couldn’t help but be enraptured by it. He had never encountered so much power in anybody besides him and his loves. Even some of Bangtan couldn’t compare to your ability.

Maybe they had been thinking about all wrong.

Jimin blinked, coming out of his thoughts from an approaching sound. He could hear the footsteps and smiled to himself, sitting up straight in the chair as he waited for the person to enter. Namjoon pushed the door open, stepping into the room and stopping in the doorway in slight shock at the sight of Jimin. “What are you doing in here?” He asked, suspiciously eying the file ahead in front of him.

“Aw, c’mon Joonie. I can’t pay you a visit?” He faux pouted, but Namjoon only narrowed his eyes, more suspicious. “Okay, okay, fine. I was looking over our new pet’s file.” Jimin sighed dramatically, standing from the chair and picking up the file, moving to slip it back into the file cabinet.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow at Jimin’s sudden interest. “Why? What were you looking for?” He asked, moving to sit down in his chair.

Jimin walked back to him, perching on the arm of his chair, slumping against Namjoon. “Well, for one, I was looking for details on her abilities. And, for leverage.” He sent Namjoon a sly smile.

“Leverage?” Namjoon tilted his head, not really following.

“I’ve been noticing some things about her. Like, the fact that she’s much more cooperative than someone’s whose been kidnapped ought to be.” Jimin trailed his fingers along Namjoon’s collar, feeling the fine thread of his suit as he spoke.

“Of course she’s being cooperative. We aren’t giving them a choice.” Namjoon replied, pulling out a notebook and pen, arranging his desk back to the way he liked it since Jimin had pushed his stuff out of the way.

“That’s different. It’s not like she’s doing the bare minimum. She’s interested, maybe even invested, in helping us.” Jimin responded, sitting up, gesturing with his hands to emphasize his point.

“She wants to see the organizations crumble as much as we do.” Namjoon reasoned.

“So does Jungkook, but he’s not giving us input on mission or helping us torture hostages.” Jimin retorted.

Namjoon sighed, resigned, looking straight at Jimin as he asked for an explanation. “What are you saying?”

Jimin rolled his eyes like it was obvious. “I’m saying that our new pet might have a bit of a perfectionist streak. She wants to help us because a part of her, albeit small, wants to impress us. She puts up a cute fight, but she always listens to us in the end.”

Namjoon looked at him intently, thinking on what he said for a moment, then turned back to fixing his desk, shaking his head. “I think you’re reading too much into it.”

“Think about it, Joon. No one told her to get Taehyung’s flashdrive. No one told her to save me, but she rushed to my side when I got shot. When we were splitting up roles for the mission, she insisted on joining and said that she was skilled enough to handle it.” Jimin rattled off, counting the instances on his fingers. “She could’ve sat back this whole time if she didn’t want to help us, but she does.”

Namjoon listened as Jimin spoke, tapping a pen in his hand against the table. “Alright. So, you think she’s eager to please. So what?”

Jimin smiled, a wicked curve to his lips. “So, I’m saying we use this to our advantage. We give her some rewards for helping us, a couple gentle pushes in the right direction, and not only will we have her as a little puppet, but Jungkook won’t have any reason to resist us either. He’s holding back because of her, I can sense it.”

Namjoon was still giving him a dubious look, so he continued, huffing. “Listen, I’m never wrong about these things. We just need to start small, and soon she’ll be putty in our hands.” Jimin eyes cut into teasing slits, smiling again. “And stop acting like you don’t like the idea. It’s so obvious that you’re fond of her already. Don’t you like the thought of a cute little baby doll around the house?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m being completely professional about this.” Namjoon denied, turning back to the desk and starting to write nonsense in the notebook.

“Right. And that’s why you let her sass Jin and give input on missions.”

“She has a lot of good ideas, it’d be inefficient to ignore them.”

“Sure,” Jimin teased, pinching his cheek. Namjoon chuckled, raising a hand to bat it away, when the door creaked again, you peeking in. Jimin didn’t hear any footsteps this time, a fact that surprised him. He knew the walking patterns of everyone in this house, but as he thought about it, he couldn’t recall if he’d ever even heard yours. You just get more and more interesting, he thought to himself.

“Joon?” You called into the room, peeking through the crack of the door. You moved to step in, then stopped after noticing Jimin inside as well. “Oh, if you’re busy I’ll go.”

“You’re fine, pet. Come in.” Jimin cooed encouragingly, before you could run out, and you timidly stepped inside, eyeing him like he’d jump at you.

“What is it?” Namjoon asked patiently, with none of the usual bite he’d have when he was talking to one of their underlings who barged into his office. Jimin struggled to hold back a smile, he was always right about these things.

You stood tall, demanding, “I need a new suit for the up coming mission. I tore mine in the last one, and it was too tight anyways.”

“We’ll find you another one.” Namjoon agreed, and you nodded, but stood there a second longer as if there was something else you wanted to say, fidgeting in place.

Jimin smirked. He could guess what this was about. You had been eyeing his and Hoseok‘s customized suits last time, and a professional like yourself was probably used to more high quality material. “You know, pet, if you do extra good for us on this next mission, you might even get a special custom suit like the ones we have.” He purred.

Your eyes sparkled at that, even if the rest of your face didn’t betray your excitement. Bingo. You nodded with the type of forced calm people had when trying not to outwardly celebrate. “Okay.” You said simply, turning and leaving, Jimin glimpsing a hint of a smile as you face away from them.

“Huh.” Namjoon said, staring at the door after she left. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” Jimin replied smugly. “She has a big ego. But we can use that to our advantage.”

Maybe the only issue with Jungkook being their pet before was that they needed another one to keep him company.

—

Yoongi wasn’t the fighting type.

Well, not exactly. While he wasn’t the type to throw a punch, he was absolutely the type to be sniping from the rooftop, steady and almost clinical in his aim. He was the type to be cynical even in the most positive of situations, the type to throw your words back in your face when arguing, the type to hang back and watch you make a fool of yourself and then laugh. He was the annoying, high and mighty, holier-than-thou type, and he had always been that way. It was funny to watch people fail, and even funnier that he had never failed at anything himself. His whole life he had been a genius, and always did everything better than the next guy. He was perfect and calculating.

He had never been tripped up by anything, until he met Jeon Jungkook.

When they found him, Jungkook was a skinny little shrimp, scared of his own shadow. He was scared of them for a long while, until he realized they weren’t trying to hurt him and then he clung to their backs every second of the day, using them like a personal shield for his anxieties. They knew he had potential, everyone does, it just takes a certain mindset to drag it out of them. They taught Jungkook how to defend himself by throwing him into the deep end and he came out better and stronger for it, rising above his fears and becoming more confident each day they spent with him.

Jungkook was full of surprises. While they had had pets and guests before, Jungkook was the most permanent, and Yoongi can still remember the way it threw him for a loop when he realized— when they all realized— they actually had developed a— somewhat twisted— form of love for the boy they had taken in. He was more than entertainment, he was cute bunny smiles and uncontrollable laughter. He thrived under the attention they gave him and begged for more with no shame. He quickly became comfortable and sassy and when he came out of his shell, he spent every moment making them happy.

Yoongi can still remember the first time Jungkook made him laugh because it was the first he had laughed at all in a long while. That was what tripped Yoongi up. The feelings Jungkook could pull out of him. All his life he had perfected the art of emotion. He knew how to control it, how to keep his cool in situations, and suddenly this kid came along and made him laugh with every stupid question, letting out snorts and chuckles that Jungkook insisted were cute, with that same wide bunny smile on his face. Cute. He’d never been called that before.

And it made it even worse when Jungkook had left. No one smiled for a long time after that. Everything felt off kilter, askew, like gun with a sticky trigger. The sudden loss of joy in their life was sticking to their every thought, and they had to push past the emotions to function even semi-normally.

Yoongi knew that Jungkook hated the parties. Honestly, if the others guys weren’t so dense when it came to other people’s emotions, maybe they’d have noticed too. He hated the parties himself. They were always too loud, with too many people with too much skin showing trying to get close to him. The only reason he ever came out of his room for them instead of locking himself inside was the way Jungkook would glue himself to his side. The younger man probably thought he was being subtle, they way he would casually lay himself across their laps, talk louder, flirt harder, and generally try to compete for their attention even more than he usually did, trying to be more interesting than the other people in the room. It almost hurt seeing the way the look on his face would desperate and pained when the other boys would push him away, hardly sparing him a glance. But then he cuddle up into Yoongi’s side, small and shy again and Yoongi would play with his hair, and they’d be in their own world again, ignoring everyone outside of their little bubble.

Yoongi could see the signs before he left. The other boys just saw it as cute rebellion, but Yoongi could see the way he would withdraw with every argument, emotionally, physically, mentally, not coming out of his room at all sometimes. And he couldn’t blame him. When he escaped, Yoongi knew. He saw him through the security cameras, jumping down from his bedroom window and running. He was supposed to report that sort of thing to Namjoon or Jin, but he made the excuse that he was hungry and went to the kitchen for some tangerines, “accidentally” turning off the cameras and alarms outside Jungkook’s bedroom.

The boys were furious naturally, in the way that people are when they don’t see how their own mistakes lead to their own misfortune. They tracked him down quickly but didn’t go after him, wanting to wait until he crawled back. They continued on with life as normal, but it wasn’t.

Jimin quickly grew tired of parties, grew tired of everything. He snapped at everyone who spoke to him, and eventually people stopped coming over for parties, and he stopped inviting them, moping around the house and whispering about how Jungkook would’ve loved the color of the sky or whatever random thing reminded him of the younger man that day. Namjoon grew quieter, he was always a quiet man, but he became distrustful of others around him, taking on more and more of the duties he usually relegated to others until they were essentially doing everything themselves. Jin was always on the phone calling people and asking about him, always tracking Jungkook’s every movement. When Jungkook was on a mission and off the grid, it was obvious in the way Jin’s shoulders would bunch tight and tense, and he would pace around the house anxiously. Hoseok was constantly training, but it only frustrated him more since Jungkook was his favorite training partner. Yoongi could always hear the thud of him beating the punching bags, hitting hard enough to almost knock them off the chains. Taehyung had always been introspective but now he was far more withdrawn, he and Jungkook were incredibly close and part of Yoongi thinks he probably blames himself for Jungkook’s leaving in a way. He wasn’t always into technology, but after Jungkook left, Taehyung asked Yoongi more about hacking and tracking, likely to try and pinpoint Jungkook’s location for himself.

And now, having him back was weird, because it was almost like old times. If Yoongi let himself zone out, he could almost believe nothing has changed. But there were plenty of changes. Yoongi could hear Jungkook’s voice again, but it was deeper, more experienced. He wasn’t the same cute kid they had all spoiled. He was toughened by life alone, and he was angry.

“Even after all this time, you’re still so similar to before,” Yoongi mused as he turned away from his computer, spinning his chair to face his bedroom door. “So why are you acting like I don’t already know you’re there?” He called out into the hallway and waited.

Jungkook slowly stepped into view, eyes everywhere but Yoongi. He looked around his room, lingering on the things that had changed. “You finally got rid of that ugly vase.” He said by way of greeting, gesturing to the flowers in the corner. They were in a sleek silver vase, rather than the colorful clay one he used to have. He’d gotten rid of most colorful decor after Jungkook had left, his room becoming a monochrome wasteland.

“I vaguely remember you telling me to get it in the first place.” Yoongi raised a brow, and Jungkook scoffed.

“As a joke. Anyone with eyes could tell that thing needed to be destroyed in a fire.” He deadpanned, but Yoongi could hear the slight amusement in his voice.

Yoongi bit his lip to hold back a smile. “What do you want?”

Jungkook shrugged noncommittally, digging throuh drawers and snooping through his shelves. “Y/n’s getting ready for her mission debrief. Jin said I shouldn’t bother her.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “And you listened? I’m surprised you didn’t break the door down.”

“Y/n can handle herself. They won’t hurt if she’s valuable to the mission.” Jungkook said, but Yoongi knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

“So why are you here?” He clarified his question, watching as the muscles in Jungkook’s back just slightly tensed, him freezing in place almost imperceptibly.

Jungkook looked at him over his shoulder, then at the open door. He walked over, closing the door silently then turned back to Yoongi, eyes glinting with determination.

“Uh oh, am I in trouble?” Yoongi joked dryly.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at him, talking like Yoongi didn’t speak at all. “Why are you guys being so weird?”

“Huh?”

“What are you hiding? Why haven’t you thrown one of your stupid parties? Why are you doing work yourself instead of being lazy and making your expendables do it? Why don’t you have other pets keeping you company?” Jungkook rattled off question after question.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi said. Jungkook almost flinched at the sound of his name, plain and simple. No Jungkookie, no kookie-baby, just Jungkook. “Do you remember when we proposed?”

Yoongi asked the question with so much tenderness that it took them both by surprise, silence settling in the room like dust for a long moment. “I wish I didn’t.” Jungkook grumbled, looking away and kicking an empty water bottle that had been lying on the floor.

“We told you that you were like nothing we had ever seen before,” Yoongi stood from his chair, taking slow steps towards Jungkook as we spoke. “That you had given us new purpose for living, and that nothing had ever been so incredible as it had when you were with us. Did you think we were lying?” Yoongi was almost whispering the last few words, close enough to Jungkook that he had to look up to meet his eyes. The younger man had never been so tall before. Yoongi thought it suited him, him being tall was new, like his bravery, like his fury, like his independence.

Jungkook stared down at him, eyes still steely with the look he had when he was working hard to figure something out. “I don’t know. You guys lied about a lot of things.” He shrugged again, trying to maintain a casual air despite the heavy atmosphere.

“We never lied. We made mistakes, sure, but we never lied. You were more important to us than anything. We just lost sight of that for a while.” Yoongi explained, Jungkook immediately scoffing.

“And you expect me to believe that? How do I know this isn’t you just manipulating me? That you aren’t just saying whatever you can to make up for your past fuck ups?” His eyes narrowed into a fierce glare, with no real heat behind it. Yoongi could tell he wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t muster up the emotion, not right now. He wanted answers more than he wanted to be angry.

You breathed in and out, calm and content just being this close to him again. “Because you know us. You know me. Only you can tell if we’ve truly changed. And if we are lying to cover our ass, you wouldn’t believe us anyways. Not until you see it for yourself. I don’t think you’re the type to be won over with praise anymore.”

Jungkook huffed, “It doesn’t matter. You kidnapped me and my love, and you’re forcing us to help you. And don’t think for a second that I actually believe you’ll just let us go after all this.”

Yoongi shrugged. “I’m sure you’d find a way out anyways. And we’re not making you do anything you didn’t already want to do. Chessman and Jackal have been a thorn in our sides, like Namjoon said, and they’ve been tracking you. If we get rid of them, you could go back to your cute little cottage and not worry about moving every two months.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, studying Yoongi’s calm countenance for a lie. Yoongi took the opportunity to look over him as well. His hair had grown longer and shaggier in the time they’d been apart, it was always a cropped bowl cut, with a cute fringe that hung over the forehead when he was with them. But now he could see the remnants of blue dye at the ends and wondered about that story, what made him want to dye it, if you encouraged him or if it had been a spur of the moment thing Jungkook surprised you with. He had a small scar on his cheek that Yoongi wanted to run his thumb over but didn’t, and one that cut through his eyebrow that Jungkook probably thought made him look cooler. He was always reckless that way, getting excited over battle scars like they were tattoos, which, Yoongi noticed, he also had trailing over his arms. He had a couple tattoos when he was with them but not so many, not so colorful and detailed. And his shoulders were broad in a way that would make even Jin jealous, and he stood tall in a way that made Yoongi swear that if he squinted he’d look just like Namjoon.

“You’ve barely done anything since we’ve gotten here.” Jungkook eventually said, expression still guarded. “The others have been angry but you’ve been acting like you don’t care at all. Even less than you normally do.”

“Maybe I just don’t.” Yoongi tilted his head.

“No. You’re pretending.” Jungkook called him out easily, batting the excuse away almost as soon as it came out of his mouth. “So, what? Do you hate Y/n too?”

Yoongi quirked an eyebrow. Jungkook posed the question like it was meant be intimidating, like he wanted to make sure Yoongi wouldn’t try anything with you, but it almost seemed curious. Like he was asking for his opinion, or his approval.

“I think Y/n’s just as strong and crazy as you are, maybe more, but she holds back. But as far as the people you could’ve chosen to replace us with goes, I’m glad you found her. She suits you.” Yoongi replied honestly, seemingly more than Jungkook was expecting from the slight widening of his eyes.

Yoongi wouldn’t tell him about how he was the one doing all the research on you when they first started going after you, and that he had dragged up an (almost) complete timeline of your life, all your highs and lows, the ways you dragged yourself out of the mud again and again and the way you watched over Jungkook fiercely ever since you’ve first met him.

He wouldn’t tell him about him about how Yoongi was immensely impressed by the way you fought and his eyes keep drifting your form in the security cameras in the mission when you saved Jimin.

Yoongi wouldn’t tell him about how he thought it was cute when you argued with Jin and Hoseok, and how he could tell Namjoon had a soft spot for you already, or how he could feel one forming for you in himself.

Yoongi wouldn’t tell him that under different circumstances they’d likely all be obsessing over you the same way they were with Jungkook, considering you seemed to be the exact kind of crazy Bangtan usually sought out in their pets.

And Yoongi especially wouldn’t tell him that he had never been angry at Jungkook, and never could be, even with you in the picture.

Jungkook eventually sighed, breaking the silence again, stepping back towards the door. “Well, that’s good enough I guess. One less enemy in this house.” He grumbled, seemingly done with his psuedo interrogation.

Yoongi spoke up again as Jungkook had just put his hand on the door, making him pause. “None of us are your enemies, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook walked out of the room, almost like he hadn’t heard Yoongi at all.

—

Hoseok brushed against you as he walked into the room, shoulder bumping into yours in a definitely purposeful movement. You eyed him as he passed, not letting him intimidate you.

He eyed you in turn, eyes sweeping down your figure. “Your suit fits better this time.” He commented, carelessly settling in a chair in the corner.

“Yup. And I’ll have a custom made that fits even better after this mission.” You smiled proudly. “But I’ll be able to outdo you in this one just fine.”

“You keep telling yourself that, pup.” Hoseok smiled with no warmth. “If you can make it through this mission without making any mistakes, I’ll take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about you.” He responded, seemingly no faith in your abilities at all, though you were quite sure you had proved yourself already. No matter, you reassured yourself inwardly, just do well on this mission and they won’t be able to deny your skill ever again. You weren’t one to be under appreciated, and while you definitely didn’t care about what they thought about you as a person, you would make sure they knew your worth as a fighter.

“Get ready to eat your words then. I never make mistakes.” You replied, eyes cut into slits as you stared him down.

“Everyone slips up sometimes. And you’ve been a little too perfect lately.” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes right back, the two of you glaring in the tense silence until the door opened.

Hoseok looked to the door, breaking eye contact first— which you counted as a small victory— as Namjoon walked in. “Just you today, Joonie?” Hoseok smiled easily, mood immediately sweeter at the sight of his love. He was always more smiley around the guys, you noticed, making it difficult for you to believe he was the same person sometimes. The same man who would glare at you was also the same man who would give his boyfriends the most tender stares and touches, soft and gentle like they’d break, and not like they were kings of the underground.

Namjoon hummed in response, opening the file. “This mission isn’t as serious. Simple recon, you get Warner in, he does the dirty work, and then you bring him back.”

Warner, still currently in the “dungeon” as Jungkook called it, was going to pose as your puppet. Bangtan would give him a couple crates of valuable supplies that he “stole” and let him barter with the informant he was meeting for information and a possible position in the organization. Since he was able to bargain with them, you assumed it was an agent of Chessman— Jungkook’s old organization— who he was meeting, but you weren’t yet sure, and it was better to prepare for every eventuality anyways. The thought that you might be seeing a familiar face form your organization tonight was both nerve wracking and blood boiling.

“So all we have to do is watch and don’t be detected.” Hoseok nodded after listening to Namjoon explain the objectives, then sent a sidelong glance at you. “Think you can handle that, puppy?”

“I’m a master at stealth. This will be a piece of cake.” You boasted.

“You certainly have a great sense of pride.” Namjoon commented almost thoughtfully.

“Of course it is. I’ve worked hard, and that deserves to be recognized.” You said, glaring at Hoseok as you put an emphasis on the last half of your words.

“Of course,” Namjoon said again, almost to himself. The closed the file in front of him and moved for the door, leading you all out. “Let’s go retrieve our prisoner then.”

—

As Hoseok sat in the backseat of the car next to you and a squirming Warner, he thought about how he’d rather be doing anything else. He hated this. He hated you for suggesting this mission. Honestly, Hoseok hated you for a lot of reasons.

One, you took Jungkook away from them. If it wasn’t for you, Hoseok wouldn’t be down a sparring partner, and their lives wouldn’t have been so miserable. Jungkook would’ve been happy when they found him again and they could’ve made it up to him for all the tough times before and be living happily ever after.

Two, Jungkook was in love with you. Not only had he moved on after leaving them, but he had given his heart to another person. He had laughed and cried and touched you, and you had comforted him and made him feel better and made him fall in love with you. Jungkook chose you, unlike how they were the ones to find him. And now because he was in love with you, he would likely never choose them over you ever again.

Three, he had to watch Jungkook be in love with you. He had to watch the stupid happy looks on your faces when you held hands, or kissed, or just looked at each other because you were so in love that you just couldn’t see the others face without breaking into a smile. Jungkook used to look at them like that. But now, he was like that with you. It was disgustingly sweet and made him want to punch a wall every time he saw it.

There were plenty of other petty reasons Hoseok couldn’t stand you, but most of all, he hated how much you reminded him of Jungkook. It was impossible to say that you and Jungkook weren’t perfect for each other. You had the same sense of same sense of humor as each other, the same focused look when you would go into a mission, the same mannerisms whether it was loading a gun or dusting off your suit, everything you did had Jungkook sewn into it and he hated it. He hated seeing echoes of someone he loved in someone else. He hated the way you would bicker with Jin, because that’s what Jungkook used to do. He hated the way you would volunteer to help with missions, because that’s what Jungkook used to do. He hated the way you walked, the way you talked, the way you breathed, because all of it was a reminder that you spent time with Jungkook while they were all losing their minds wishing for him to come back.

Warner bumped into his shoulder for the fortieth time in the last ten minutes and Hoseok snapped, grabbing the rope around his neck and pulling as he growled. “How does a man who’s tied up move so goddamn much?”

Warner didn’t answer him, because he had a piece of tape over his mouth, but instead stared up at him frightfully. He was tied up still, because Hoseok didn’t believe he wouldn’t just try to run as soon as they got outside, rope around his wrists, elbows, knees and ankles for good measure. The rope around his neck was just for intimidation factor, for moment like this where Hoseok needed something to grab and pull.

“We’re almost there, just avoid hurting our hostage before we get to the rendezvous point.” You rolled your eyes and Hoseok huffed, shoving Warner into you. You shoved him back more towards the center, ignoring the muffled groan Warner let out as you both irritated his bruises from your previous “discussion” with him in the basement.

Jin was driving the car, quiet for most of the ride as he sensed the tension between you two. He glanced into the rear view, seeing the both of you with arms crossed and looking out the windows like siblings on a road trip they didn’t ask for and sighed in relief as you slowly got closer to the destination. “Just remember to be careful. We don’t have sights on you for this one, so make sure to watch your corners and lead Warner back here as soon as the meeting’s over.”

“We got it, babe.” Hoseok said as the car rolled to a stop outside an abandoned warehouse, dark with overgrown plants creeping up the sides. “I’ll keep the puppy in line.” He said as he climbed out.

“I’m not a puppy! And I don’t need to watched.” You hissed, getting out your side and taking a wooden crate out of the trunk.

“Whatever.” Hoseok snapped back, grabbing Warner from the backseat and slinging him over his shoulders like he was a bag of marshmallows.

Jin did not feel any confidence in your ability to watch each other’s backs, but waved you both off anyways, saying good luck and moving his car to a more hidden spot until the two of you were finished.

You crept up to the side of the building as quietly as possible, the people Warner was here to meet were likely already inside, waiting. They told him to come alone, so you needed to get him and inside and make yourselves scarce. Hoseok propped him up against the wall, undoing the ropes and then ripping the tape off of his mouth, ignoring his squeal at the pain.

You shoved the wooden crate into his arms, not giving him a moment to recover. It was full of random ammunition and weapons, things Wanrer could use to barter with the informant. “Remember: these are the supplies you ‘stole’ from Bangtan during your raid. Try to trade them for information we could use or, most preferably, a position on the inside of the organization. Don’t mess this up.” You threatened, stressing the last sentence with a dire seriousness, watching Warner’s eyes widen at your intensity.

“I— I remember, I swear.” He squeaked and you nodded, stepping back.

“Good. Now go.” Hoseok pushed him towards the direction of the entrance, making him stumble over over his own feet, and the two of you watched him walk inside, making sure he wouldn’t run.

“Now, we just have to get inside.”

“What’re you talking about? There no way we can get in without being noticed, it’s an empty warehouse.” Hoseok eyed you dubiously. “It’s just wide open space, they’ll see us instantly.”

“Places like this usually have a lot of vents and ducts on the ceiling. If we can get up top, we can climb in through one and sit up in the rafters unseen.” You replied, pulling a grappling gun fork your tool belt.

“That’s stupid. What if we make too much noise, or fall?” He critiqued.

“Just don’t.” You said, rolling your eyes. You shot the gun up to the roof, watching it catch on the edge. You gave it a couple test pulls to test the stability. “Look, you can stay out here if you want, but I’m going in.”

“Fine.” Hoseok huffed. “Give me that, I don’t trust you not to drop us.” He held out his hand for the grappling hook and you pulled back.

“And I’m supposed to believe you won’t drop me?”

“Do you want to get in, or just stay out here and argue?”

“Fine.” You acquiesced, handing him the gun, and he wrapped his arm around your back, holding you tight as he let it pull both up to the top of the building.

To Hoseok’s surprise, you both made it in easily, popping open a grate on a vent that came out the top of the building, crawling in and navigating through the vents until you were close enough to hear conversation, coming upon another grate you could see the meeting through. Quietly, you pulled up the grate, and stared down into the room.

As you looked in on the scene, you saw they had already started talking. The informant was dressed in a white suit, crisp and clean. He spoke in a monotone voice, sounding almost bored as he spoke with Warner, who in contrast, was sweating bullets.

Warner’s voice cut into your ear as he spoke, voice lowering so much that you had to strain to hear them. “Listen, I know what we came here for, but I figured, before you get your stuff, you could help me out.” He whispered conspiratorially to the agent.

“What is he saying?” You murmured to yourself, anxiety chilling your body. This didn’t sound like any of the things you outlined for Warner to say. He was going way off script.

“Help you how?” The agent asked, confusion marring their clinical and smooth tone. Clearly whatever Warner was saying was throwing them for a loop as well.

“I was captured by Bangtan, I’ve got two of their agents trailing me right now, they’re osmewhere here, if you help me get rid of them—“

“That dumbass! He’s ratting us out. I told you he wasn’t shit but you just couldn’t help but want to be right all the time!” Hoseok hissed at you, but you were just staring blankly down at the scene below you, as if in disbelief.

“You were compromised?” The rendezvous agent cut Warner off, professional air completely abandoned, replaced with worry and anger that Warner didn’t seem able to sense.

Warner nodded, a smile on his face as he realized the agent understood. He continued speaking more enthusiastically, as he pleaded the other agent for help. “Yeah, exactly! Listen man, you’ve gotta get rid them for me, they’re threatening my life—“

Bang! Warner’s body slumped lifelessly to the floor, and Hoseok felt his heart drop.

The agent had whipped out a small handgun, nailing Warner right between the eyes. He turned to the guards in the room, barking orders frantically. “Search the perimeter, make sure the agents he was talking about aren’t within range. Open fire if you see anyone unfamiliar, and shoot to kill.”

Hoseok sighed, “That idiot. Let’s get out of here before we get shot.”

You crawled forward in the vents silently, maneuvering yoursef over another grate directly above the men grouped in the middle of the room around the informant relaying commands. You pulled up the grate, deathly silent as you pulled out two handguns strapped to your belt, one in each hand. Hoseok did not like the look on your face.

“What are you doing? We should be heading towards the exit.” He repeated.

Your head raised, locking eyes with his. Your face was completely blank, but your eyes screamed with silent fury, so much so that Hoseok almost flinched. “I’m finishing this mission.” You replied, calm like the eye of a hurricane, then dropped down from the rafters like a hawk diving for its prey.

Hoseok watched in awe for a moment. It was clear the guards weren’t expecting you to come to them, and it was doubly clear that they hadn’t thought to look up, two of them going down just from the force of you landing on their necks, another three going down as you swiftly planted bullets in their backs, shooting before they even had the chance to turn around.

From his vantage point, Hoseok could see a squad of guards coming in through an exit on the far side of the room, sneaking up on you. He waited until they were under him to drop on top of them as well, hearing some bones snap as they broke his fall. For good measure, he shot them, then focused on making his way over to you and covering your back.

There weren’t many guards at all in the abandoned safe house, clearly they were only planning on having to subdue Warner and not getting followed by secret agents set on killing them all. You two cleared out the building quickly, you swirling a path of destruction through the guards and Hoseok cleaning up behind you. The room eventually feel silent, no more guards left to stop you, as your eyes searched your surroundings for any remaining threats. You heard shuffling and looked to see the informant, clean white suit now dirty, slowly crawling towards the door on his hands and knees.

Hoseok leveled a gun at him. “Oh no, you don’t—“

“Stop!” Your arm knocked into his, knocking his shot off course and making him hit his shoulder instead of his head. The informant cried out in pain, ignored by Hoseok who instead turned to glare at you.

“Don’t tell me you’re about to say some high and mighty shit about murder being wrong when we just cleared the house.” He rolled his eyes.

“Not at all.” You said, turning towards the agent who was now sniveling on the floor, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows. You walked over to him, stepping on him and pushing him down in place with your foot. “We’re down an informant because he shot Warner. So he’ll be taking his place.”

The informant cried. “You— you won’t get away with this! You— you can’t—!”

You moved your foot over his bullet wound, pressing into it and twisting your foot. He cried out loudly then stopped abruptly, passing out from the pain. Once he stopped squeaking, you turned to Hoseok, cracking a smile that was weirdly innocent with the sprays of blood in your face.

“Carry him for me?”

Hoseok nodded, at a loss for words, stopping to sling the agent over his shoulder. He followed behind you as the two of you calmly walked out of the warehouse, no souls left to stop you. His blood thrummed strangely in his body, energy and adrenaline still pumping through his veins thinking of the ways you fought, alluring and dangerous. He was both impressed and terrified by your calmness, like you didn’t just enact your vengeance on a room of unsuspecting agents. Just thinking about it could still give him chills, seeing the content look on your face while you took them down with ease, like you weren’t affected by it at all. Your breathing had hardly changed after exerting yourself, like you had just taken a nice walk in the park. Hoseok wanted to know just how much of yourself you were hiding from them.

Hoseok thought you would hold them back, that you’d be a stick in the mud, but clearly, you did not like to play around. “No qualms about killing this time?” He asked, keeping his voice casual. “Jimin said you made a big fuss about killing on your last mission.”

“I don’t take kindly to having my operations jeopardized.” You said, in that all too calm voice, and Hoseok realized, oh, you weren’t calm at all actually. Looking closer he could see your hands shook and clenched into fists periodically, like you needed to punch something or scream, and your voice was hard with the effort of keeping venom out of your tone. You were angry. “Warner could’ve cost us everything. But he already got what he deserved.” You turned to look at Hoseok and the body slung over his shoulder, flashing a scary sweet smile over your shoulder. “But I think our new catch is even better.”

Hoseok shook his head in disbelief as you faced forward again. Looking at you now, he took back his earlier statement. What he hated most of all was how much he didn’t know about you.

—

Taglist: @justmewondering-recs @zae007live @jcrml @royalchickens @devilsbooksworld @creatorspalace @scuzmunkie @uno7 @dreamamubarak @bbgniecyy @tinyoonsblog @cosmic-waves7 @arin-swear-rose @sld88 @skyys-universe @mageprincess7 @drunkzseok @n4mina @singukieee @elraeeee @ratherbefangirling @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @bex-tk1 @btspurplesky @shownusshoulders @iheartsvt @drissteele @kookstempo @juju-227592 @bjoriis @blancflms @mooncuddler @purplelady85 @iiitsmaria @anonynim @veronawrites @silscintilla @singukieee @magicsweetener @tito-the-mermaid @queen-in-the-shadows @iloverubberduckiez-blog @scentisterror @sugarxbxby123 @mulletjoonsupremacy

[wearepurplejackets]

❌ Incorrect Tokyo Manji~❌

*Meanwhile, in another parallel world between dimensions*

Bonten Mikey: Okay guys, silence, the 242nd meeting of the Mikeys is inaugurated.

Small Mikey, in high-pitched voice: Hi.

Manila Mikey, *seductively*: Hey~

Teenager Mikey *mouth full*: Fhi!!

First future Mikey *taking off his gloves*: C'mon, let's do this. I have like three traitors to kill tonight.

Bonten Mikey: You greaser talk a lot for a guy who still works with *pretends to vomit* Kisaki.

First future Mikey: Oh, we are gonna go that way, eh? Who make you the leader exactly?

Bonten Mikey: Well, myself. I'm the oldest one so, get your head out of your ass, if you know how to.

Manila and Teenager Mikey: Boom!!

First future Mikey: So you put bleach in your head and now you are Gandalf or whatever??

Small Mikey: hahaha!

First Future Mikey: And you should not laugh so much, Small. You are the reason we are all here again wasting our precious time to keep destroying our lives, gOD!

Small Mikey *in even higher-pitched voice*: What? Me?? wHAT???

Teenager Mikey: Yeah, the airplane toy incident was actually... pretty out of context if you ask me *Opens like his twelfth melon bread* Didn't expect that coming from you, little bean.

First future Mikey: Seriously, Teen, can you please stop eating for like AN ENTIRE SECOND?!?!

Teenager Mikey: I CAN'T! Geezer, let me be! I'm growing!

Bonten Mikey: No, you are not.

Manila Mikey: Assume we are not really tall. That's why I killed everyone who was taller than me...

Everyone: Yes, yes, we know...

Manila Mikey: I'm sad.

Everyone: We know, Manila.

Bonten Mikey: Anyway, I don't like First future like you all do too, but for once... *Sighs* he is right.

First future Mikey: Well at least you have a brain in there. Not for choosing a nice haircut or a tattoo tho, but-

Bonten Mikey *rolling eyes*: Yeah, yeah, whatever. You have something to say about the airplane, Small??

Small Mikey *puffing out cheeks*: Oe! Don't blame me! I just knew that last week, just like you all! I didn't know sh*t!

Manila Mikey: It's true, he only sleeps all the time.

Small Mikey: Oe. At least I don't look like a "Toy boy".

Teenager Mikey: Wooooooo!!

Bonten Mikey: Who taught you that?? It was Small Baji?? It was him, right??

Manila Mikey: Kid, I'm gonna ground you. Literally. Three meters under it...

First future Mikey: God, you are all so messed up!

Teenager Mikey: Yes, because you are totally a role model to follow...

First Future Mikey: Oh, sorry. Aren't you like isolating yourself from your friends and having depression now?

Manila Mikey: Oh, depression... That's why I killed everyone. But mostly because they were taller than me.

Everyone: We KNOW, Manila...

Manila Mikey: That's why I left Takemitchy tho. *Wink, wink*

Bonten Mikey: Okay... Btw, where is Kanto Mikey? He has missed the last few meetings. I hope he's doing something important.

Manila Mikey: I think Kanto is busy, you know, f*cking everything up til the end and all that sh*t.

Teenager Mikey: Oh, well I hope he fails miserably, *takes a dorayaki into his mouth* brutally.

Manila Mikey: Wow, dude. And I'm the savage one.

Teenager Mikey: I'm sorry but I'm gone for like, what? Two season?? And everyone think they can do my job! Even a f*cking zombie!

First future Mikey: Well if you just-

Bonten Mikey: Well if you just made a f*cking decision right(?!)

First future Mikey: I... wtf. Bon-bon, chill. My heart skipped a beat.

Small Mikey: Gross.

Manila Mikey: It shows he is the honest one. *Smiles* Not like the people I killed...

Teenager Mikey: That's rude, Bonten... But I forgive you, it must be hard not to sleep in like a trillion years.

Bonten Mikey: And who's fault it is?? I got dark circles under my DARK CIRCLES!

Small Mikey: Actually, I think is called "Dark Impulses".

First future Mikey: I'm having the Dark Impulse to kill you all right now.

Teenager Mikey *jumping on the table*: Come and try, old man. If you have guts!

Manila Mikey: Ah, c'mon stop it already... I really hate when we argue so much... That's why I killed everyone who could talk...

Everyone: We know, Manila... WE KNOW!!

[pastelavender88]

Anger That Swallows Us

Summary: Eddie may lose another woman he loves. How can he survive without her? How will he tell Christopher?

Requested-Yes by @fairyhope028 . I had to change the request just a bit to make it more accurate but overall it’s followed.

Remember ask and submissions are open.

It was another long shift at the hospital, but I'm the underdog here at the hospital. Being an intern, long shifts came with the job, but I try my best to get on everyone’s good side because at the end of the day we’re all here for the same thing. To save lives. My boyfriend, Eddie, was in the saving life business as well, considering he’s a firefighter and all. Eddie and I met through my father, who was the chief of police. He introduced us at a gala for first responders and the rest is history. We’ve been together for 2.5 years now and I was headed to pick Christopher up from his aunt’s home. Suddenly, I felt a hand grab the back of my neck and slam my head into my car door. With spots in my eyes, I saw a man. No, not a man, a monster, my dad threw in jail years ago. Nate Collins had killed and raped 5 woman in a span of 1 month. He was sentenced to 5 life sentences, for each life he took. “How…you’re supposed…to be…” I barely choked out.

“In prison? Yeah it didn’t stick.” He said with a sinister grin. “Now it’s time to get revenge on your daddy, who threw me in that shit-hole. What better way than to kill the star in his eye?” Nate stabbed me in the stomach with a knife. “Now… That’s like it.” He whispered as he pulled me closer to him. “If i had more time i would make this worth my while. if you know what i mean.” His eyes seemed to burn through my clothes and I had never felt so naked while fully clothed. “But, lucky for you. I’m short on time.” He took my fallen keys from the floor and used them to open my trunk. “Let’s get you in here.” He roughly threw me in the trunk and soon I felt my car begin to move. All I could think of before I lost consciousness was Christopher and Eddie. “I wish I was stronger, but I’m so tired.” I spoke to no one.

Eddie’s POV

Near the end of my shift, my phone started to ring. It was my tia Josephina.

 “Hello.”

“Edmundo, where is Y/n?” 

“What do you mean? She should have picked up Christopher by now.”

“I know. That’s why I called because he’s still here.” This wasn’t like Y/n at all. She was almost always on time and if she wasn’t it was by mere minutes. She was supposed to get Christopher an hour ago. 

“I’ll call her. Thanks Tia.” I quickly hung up and called Y/n. There was no answer. After another failed attempt, I called the hospital.

“Hello, this is Kindred Hospital. How can I help you today?” 

“Hello, I’m calling in regards to one of your interns. Y/n Y/l/n. She was supposed to pick up our son an hour ago and she hasn’t arrived yet.” I usually just said our son so I wouldn't have to go into detail about why she’s picking him up or our relationship to each other, but if I'm being honest since she’s come into our lives, she’s always been more of a mother to Christopher then Shannon has. 

“One moment.” After what felt like hours, the receptionist came back on the line. “It says here that she clocked out about an hour and thirty minutes ago. It also seems her car is no longer in the parking lot.” What?

“Okay. Thank you so much for your help.” Panic started to set in. What was going on? This wasn’t like her. Did I do something wrong? Was she mad at me? Lost deep in my thoughts an alarm sounded throughout the firehouse. Great, perfect timing. 

“Alright, we're responding to a burning building downtown. The fire seems to have been started by an accelerant so everyone be on high alert. We could be dealing with an arsonist.” Bobby said. When we got there it was a small store that seemed to be ablaze and after a few minutes we managed to put out the fire. I then saw something that threw all the alarms in my head back on. In the parking lot, Y/n’s car was waiting. I hurried over to it where I saw her keys and wallet sitting on top of her trunk. I quickly looked inside her car and saw that it was empty. So, I took the keys and opened the trunk. There I saw a huge bloodstain seeping into the fabric of the trunk. 

“Cap!” I screamed. Bobby came rushing over. “Bobby, Y/n is missing. Earlier before we left, my tia called me and told me Y/n hasn’t picked up Christopher yet. When I called the hospital they said she had left over an hour ago. Now here we are in this parking lot, in front of Y/n’s car with blood in the trunk. We need to search this place. What if she’s here or at least around here?” 

“Okay. I’m gonna call Athena for backup just in case this guy is still around here.” He took a moment to talk into the radios and explain the situation to dispatch. “Everyone with me. You might have heard over the radio the situation. One of our own is in trouble. Y/n is missing and we have just found her car with a large amount of blood in it. We need to canvas and look for her but be on alert because whoever this is, is making it personal. Eddie, you’re with me. Everyone else find a partner and let’s get to searching.” Everyone quickly went to work. 

After maybe about 20 minutes, I heard Buck over the radio.

“Eddie, Cap, I found her. She’s in a back alley across the street.” I started to run towards her. When I came to where Buck was he was surrounding Chimney and Hen while they worked on her. She was badly injured and barely breathing. All that was running through my head was who would do this to Y/n? Out of nowhere I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and there stood Athena. 

“Eddie. They’re leaving, go with them.” I didn’t know what to do. Last time i went with the woman i loved in an ambulance she didn’t make it. I couldn’t go through that again. Not this time. “Eddie, look at me.” My eyes snapped back to Thena. “I know what happened last time was scary but Y/n needs you right now. So, you better get your ass on that ambulance or else.” I swiftly went to the ambulance with them. 

The ride to the hospital had no complications but as soon as she made it into the hospital she started to seize. “Oh my God. Is that Y/n?” One of the nurses responded. I recognized her as one of the women Y/n usually socialized with and told me stories about. “Page Dr.Morrison, tell him it’s important.” She turned to Chim, Hen, and me. “We got it from here. Don’t worry she’s in good hands.” I sure hoped so.

Hours had passed. Christopher had now joined me at the hospital and was sitting next to me. Worry was written all over his face. Soon a nurse came to where everyone was siting. “Are you Mr.Diaz?”

“Yes. How is she?”

“It was touch-and-go for a minute but Dr.Morrison was able to stop the internal bleeding and close the wounds. We also were able to relieve the pressure on her brain due to a concussion. It’ll take some time before she feels one hundred percent again but she should be okay.” I let out a breath I never knew I was holding. She was okay. They saved her. “You can see her if you want.” 

I made my way to her room and there she was. She was watching whatever was on the TV. I knocked on the door and she looked my way. That golden smile of hers was thrown my way and it felt like a breath of fresh air.

 “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? I mean it’s pretty late.” Here she was in a hospital bed still worried about me.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you, after all you're in the hospital bed?” She giggled when I said that. I crossed over to where she was. I stood there for a few minutes before she scooted over and patted the space near her. I climbed into bed with her and wrapped her in my arms. “I thought I was gonna lose you.” Tears started to leave my eyes before I could stop them. 

She looked up at me. “It’s gonna take way more than that before I ever leave you, or Christopher. You’re my family.” After she said that she gave me a loving kiss. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” After I said that, Christopher and the gang came and joined us in the hospital room. Today was one of the scariest days of both of our lives but it also told me one thing. A life without her is a life I can't even imagine. Once she gets discharged I think it’s time I proposed to her with the engagement ring I bought ages ago.