#this is the first time ive done it and it was only because i was dying yesterday

[bruhstories]

Bet IV

p.1 here & p.2 here & p.3 here

mandatory mdni because things will start to get heated up in the following chapters.

summary: you're starting to feel things for the man who hired you to take care of his cat. but he's only being nice. that's it and nothing more. pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, domestic violence (reader gets slapped by her uncle), veeeery slow burn, reader's dad is dead w/c: 2.1k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can't find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

"Where were you last night?"

You sighed at your uncle's question, sick and tired of explaining the same thing over and over again. He woke up earlier than he should have, especially for a man who worked night shifts at a warehouse. He did it on purpose, just to have more reasons to pick on you, and you knew that all too well. You lived through that hell for the past ten years.

"I told you, I was cat sitting." 

"Cat sitting." He repeated with derision in his voice. "You need to get a real job."

"I have two real jobs." You reminded him, and it took all your willpower not to raise your voice at him.

"Where's the money, then? Huh?" Your uncle grabbed you by the wrist, twisting it backwards.

"I'm getting paid today!"

"How much?" 

"660,326!" You cried out as his fingernails dug deeper into your skin.

"I better see that money on my nightstand by tomorrow morning." He let go of your wrist. "Keep the change."

How generous, you thought, rubbing the crescent-shaped dents in your skin. At least he didn't hit you, but your small victory crumbled when he turned on his heels, smacking you with the plastic fly swatter in his hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

You didn't cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him. 

But when you stepped through the doors of Mr. Hwang's penthouse, the dam broke, and tears streamed down your cheeks. They burned when they touched the cracked, swollen skin, courtesy of your uncle, but you still smiled at the sight of Eunjoo.

Instead of waiting next to the water bowl, like she had done before, the cat jumped on the countertop, her paw gently touching your wrist, where the imprinted dents of his fingernails were still visible. You didn't know why, but Eunjoo's gesture made you cry harder, heavy tears falling onto her plate. 

"Good kitty." You sobbed, daring to pet her, and she allowed it, nuzzling your hand for the first time since you met her.

Without wasting a single moment, you took out your phone to take a selfie of you and Eunjoo, and sent it to In-ho, with the caption 'Making progress!' You thought he might be happy to see her slowly lower her guard and get attached to you.

Who hurt you?

Stupid. How could you be so stupid to send a selfie when your cheek was grazed and puffy? Of course Mr. Hwang would ask about it, he was a nice man, one whose kindness you didn’t think you deserved.

I accidentally walked into a lamppost! Silly, right?

Hoping that the lie would be convincing enough, you carried on with your tasks after eating with Eunjoo, and to your surprise, it worked. It fooled him, but you weren’t proud of yourself in the slightest. 

You need to be more careful next time. If anything happened to you, who would take care of Eunjoo until I return?

It shouldn't have hurt reading his reply, and yet your heart ached. What did you expect? You were an employee, he obviously wanted his cat to be safe, not you. And how could someone like him even care about someone you? You came from different worlds that could never intertwine.

I will.

No thank you, no sad face — you were bitter, even though, rationally, you had no reason to be. Besides, you lied to him in the first place. Maybe if you told him the truth, he would have sent a different reply. It didn't matter. In less than five days he would come back, pay you and never speak to you again. Just like all rich people did.

You cleaned the bathrooms that morning, scrubbing the bath tubs, the toilets, the sinks and the floors until your fingertips stung and your head pounded from the bleach fumes. The vibration of your phone startled you, and you wiped your hands to check the notification.

Have I upset you?

Okay, maybe he did care. Or maybe he was just very observant and noticed your monotonous reply.

Not at all, I just have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry that you worried about me, or that I seemed upset! You're right, I need to be more careful next time.

Please don't take this the wrong way, miss, but I've never met anyone who apologised for making me worry about them. You're quite special.

You did a double take when you read Mr. Hwang's reply, and a wave of remorse crushed your heart. The man was too nice for you to lie to him, but you didn't want him involved in your family affairs, either. There was a strong internal conflict within you, a battle between honesty and dishonesty, but for the time being, dishonesty won, no matter how disgraceful it was.

Choosing not to reply, as time was ticking and the Abduls would be waiting for you soon, you swiftly finished tidying up the bathrooms and put away all the cleaning products so Eunjoo couldn't get to them. With the automatic feeder full, fresh water in the bowl and litter boxes clean, you left.

In all fairness, you didn't know what to reply to his text. No one called you special before, except for that one guy you dated who only wanted to sleep with you, and unfortunately succeeded. It wasn't your proudest moment, but you moved on since then. You stared at the text, typing a reply, then deleting it, then typing again, and you did that for the duration of the entire bus ride back to Guryong Village. By the time you knocked on Ali's door, you still hadn't come up with a response.

What could you even say? Thank you? Likewise? I'm sorry I lied to you, my uncle slapped me with the fly swatter? No. In telling the truth, Mr. Hwang would pity you, perhaps even offer you more money, or food, or clothes, and you didn't want to be pitied. You wanted your hard work to be recognised, not to use your social status or depressing background as an excuse.

Mrs. Abdul couldn't feed you that day, and that was fine. They needed to prioritise themselves, since they didn't live any better than you. Luckily, you saved enough money to buy a kimbap roll for lunch and a bag of rice crackers for dinner and breakfast. Resourcefulness was, perhaps, your strongest point and the reason you survived for so long.

The theme park was packed with tourists and locals, gathering to watch the parade, and you took the time to entertain children and take pictures with them, always on your feet, always working. Back in the dressing room, you took the comically large mascot head off, sweat dripping down your face and neck. Summers were worse — there were body parts you didn't think could sweat.

"Excuse me, Y/N?"

You looked up from your seat to a man around your age, a coworker named Donghyun. He had worked there for a few months or so, but you barely spoke.

"Yes?" You smiled, resting your elbows on the mascot head in your lap.

"We're getting paid today, and a few of us are going for drinks after work. I was wondering if you would like to come." Donghyun avoided looking into your eyes, nervously pinching the soft fur of his own mascot.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I have another job I need to get to. Maybe another time."

"Yeah, another time." He nodded. "Hey, could I get your number?"

"Why would you want my number?" You laughed, immediately pursing your lips when Donghyun frowned. "Sorry, yeah, of course I'll give you my number!"

You were such a people pleaser, it was ridiculous, but he seemed to feel better after saving your number in his phone. And there was no harm in making new friends.

"I'll text you later." Donghyun nodded with a smile and left.

What a strange interaction, you thought. It wasn't unusual for men to like you — you were pretty, smart, funny — but you just weren't interested in any of them. In fact, it was their age and maturity that didn't appeal to you. They acted like prepubescent pricks, trying to impress anything with a vagina and a pretty face by being obnoxious and loud and downright irritating.

Older men were different. They had manners, they were respectful and caring. They knew how to dress, knew how to speak to women, kind of like Mr. Hwang.

Oh. 

God, you needed to forcibly remove that thought from your mind before it spiraled into something worse. In-ho probably wanted nothing to do with you — no, he definitely didn’t want anything to do with you. He was just a nice gentleman who happened to not be married. Maybe he had a girlfriend that didn't live with him. Or maybe he worked so much he couldn't afford a relationship. 

Maybe he murdered people.

You laughed at that ridiculous idea — no one in their right mind would do that, especially not Mr. Hwang. He had a cat, for God's sake. Murderers usually killed animals, surely he was just a normal man with a lot on his mind, a workaholic, or a hermit.

Walking into your boss' office, you received your pay and counted the money — 662,326. You got more than you should've, completely forgetting about the pay rise. Your uncle didn't need to know about that, and you took the extra 2,326 and hid it in a small pocket inside your backpack, along with other money you saved. Unbeknownst to him, you secretly opened a savings account in the hopes that one day you would be able to leave and rent your own place, but you only had 1,094,463.60 won, which was barely enough to cover the deposit.

One day. One day you would leave all that abuse behind and have a fresh start. But today was not that day. 

Back in Gangnam-gu, you entered the penthouse earlier than normal and dropped your bag on the floor next to your worn and torn boots. You were hoping they would last through winter because you really couldn't afford a new pair. Eunjoo ran to greet you for the first time, and your heart was filled with joy at the sight of the cat rubbing against your leg. She was growing on you, and you soon realised how much you'd miss her when Mr. Hwang returned. Perhaps he'd let you visit her. 

You turned the TV on and played some songs by ABBA, the sadness of the morning gone, replaced only by joy and optimism. Things would turn out well, you just knew it. You grabbed In-ho's black clothes and placed them in the washing machine, all the while dancing to the beat of Money, Money, Money. It was a song you related to, but you didn't want to find a wealthy man. You just wanted to have enough money to survive without your uncle.

"It's a rich man's world." You sang to Eunjoo, who wiggled her butt, playfully attacking your feet. 

"All the things I could do if I had a little money, kitty. I would get my own apartment, I would donate to orphanages and charities. Oh, don't look at me like that." You frowned when Eunjoo stared at you judgmentally. "I would! There are people out there who need help. But you know what I would get for me? A hotteok! Ah, I would kill for that cinnamony goodness."

You placed the food on the floor and opened the pack of rice crackers. 

"My dad got me a hotteok on my seventh birthday. It was the best birthday ever and- oh my God, I'm talking to a cat." Laughing at the sudden realisation, you shook your head in disbelief. "Well, you're probably my only friend anyway. You don't judge me. You don't care if I'm rich or poor. You just listen and eat. Oh!"

Good evening, Mr. Hwang! Could I ask what your favourite dish is?

You decided that would be your gift. Cooking wasn't your strongest skill, but you were confident in yourself. And who didn't want to come back to a hot home-made meal? Maybe he liked jajangmyeon, or jjigae, or something sweet, like chapssaltteok. The possibilities were endless.

Beef Wellington. Why?

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Beef fucking Wellington? How on Earth could you even afford all the ingredients? The tenderloin itself was probably over 65,000 won. But you were going to do it for him, regardless of what it cost. You felt that Mr. Hwang deserved it. 

I was hoping to cook it for you when you returned. I'll admit, I didn't think it would be such a... fancy dish, but I'm sure I can manage. 

Have you tried it before?

I'm afraid not. Is it good?

Exquisite. You'll have to stay and try it when I return, yes?

Chewing on your bottom lip, your heart skipped a beat at his request. You knew he was just being nice, but you couldn't stop the sudden burning desire to just obey. 

Yeah, I'll stay. 

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn  @hobiesbrownsgf  @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol  @mariiestfu  @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf @nellabear @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesnlog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @houta-habtet-houta @alexisabirdie @riri53 @bluehourss

[dear-ao3]

by popular request: how to write an email

a disclaimer that this is the specific kind of email you send when people are absolutely smiting you and you know a phone call or an in person meeting is not possible/will not help. like youre 12 emails deep in an email chain and going in circles. youve been re routed to 13 offices 4 separate times. those kind of emails.

credentials: ive taken something like 13 semesters of college (dont ask) and every single semester have had to fight at least 3 offices for varying reasons in order to take classes. (including one time where i was shorted 5k in financial aid. i ended up getting 200 more dollars than i needed in the end) also my dad taught me everything he knows about emails (hes a tradesman turned corporate man and most of his job consists of telling people (nicely) that what theyre doing sucks and makes absolutely no sense)

Step 1: figure out who the email needs to go go

there is nothing wrong with emailing 11 million people if it gets the job done. if someone isnt helping you and you Know that they Should Be feel free to start to copy their boss on the email. copy your boss on an email. (or advisor or whoever). even if you think the person might only be like Vaguely helpful, sometimes people know people.

also theres nothing wrong with emailing the same email to several departments. sometimes you have to make a lot of noise to get something done (again. as like a last resort. dont email 11 million people right out of the gate)

Step 2: remember to be Polite

a very tempting step to ignore especially when you are 13 thousand emails deep in problems. but! if you are not nice to them! they will probably continue to smite you in the future! you want to make friends! not foes! so no matter how much people are smiting you, try to resist the urge to be an utter dipshit because it will not get the job done. vent to a friend or a coworker and send your polite and nice email

Step 3: articulate the problem Clearly.

a very important step. especially if you are adding more people to your email chain. dont assume they know your exact problem. they probably are dealing with other problems. articulate Clearly what is happening, no matter how long the email may be. its far better to get a long and detailed email rather than a non helpful short one. that will only prolong the process of how long it takes the problem to get solved.

Step 4: cite your reciepts.

wildly important. send your screenshots your attachments your whatever the fucking fuck youve got. its always good to have a paper trail. this is also where you would state any previously attempts to have the problem Sorted (ie i reached out to x person on x y and z days about x problem and it is still not resolved). you would not believe how many people dont scroll down in an email, especially a forwarded/replied one. so summarize whats Down There in your most recent email

Step 5: use the appropriate lingo

you dont have to be Overly Formal but there are a few good Buzz Sentences that usually get the job done. for example:

As Per My Last Email: a great line. emphasizes that youve already mentioned this. and this is not the first time youre mentioning this point. also emphasizes that the Thing has yet to be solved

See Attached/See Below: under utilized. again. people do not open attachments and they do not scroll down. almost had a friend once fail a class because a professor gas lit them in an email chain saying they didnt receive the final paper when the paper itself was attached earlier in the email chain. be Painfully Literal. it pays off.

Help Me To Understand: this is one of my dad's favorite lines. it really shows that you have no fucking idea what the person youre emailing is getting at and youre offering them the opportunity to spell out their nonsense for you. so that you can then be like. well. clearly This is where the miscommunication lies. its a great line. has saved my ass many times. because it is not accusing it is just offering someone to understand. it does not attack. it just is.

Step 6: give a polite sign off.

something along the lines of "thank you in advance for any help" or "i look forward to hearing from you" does the job. something that sends the message you are not pissed to shit at them even if you are.

Step 7: follow up and follow up often.

polite email response time is 48 business hours/2 business days. if it has been longer than that you have every right to email back and say hi x person just following up on this email, have you had the chance to review it yet? again. keep it polite. you actually want them to help you. and if they still dont respond well then maybe its time to loop in a boss or a supervisor or whoever the hell else. dont be afraid to go above them if you need to. nothing wrong with getting shit done when it needs to get done.

and really, if all that fails, as my dad says, a little office bribe in the form of cookies has never hurt anyone :)

so an email. should be formatted something like this:

Greetings/Good Morning (Afternoon) (Person)

I hope this email finds you well (or something similar for a greeting). I am reaching out regarding X incident/problem/whatever the fuck it is. I have previously reached out to X person on X dates and (summary of whatever they did or didnt do). See below/attached emails/pdf/screenshot/document (if applicable)

(explanation of the problem in as simple and detailed terms as possible. have someone re read it to make sure that it cannot be misconstrued)

(explanation of what you are looking for as a solution)

Please help me to understand why this (solution) has not been able to be reached. (explain you are on x timeline if the situation is urgent)

Kind regards/Thank you for any help in advance/I look forward to hearing from you etc,

email signature

go forth and conquer your emails. remember, sometimes you have to be a squeaky wheel. and in my million cases of email sending, it has ALWAYS paid off and i have gotten the problems solved. dont be afraid of the emails they can help you.

[theonottsbxtch]

SAVING HER | CL16

an: chat this is a short one but she’s been sat in my drafts unedited for a while SO PLS DONT JUDGE IVE BEEN BUSY WITH WORK also im about to close my requests for the next month or so because i am very busy

wc: 2.3k

THE ALLEYWAY WAS A THEATRE OF SHADOWS, the high walls narrowing like an unfinished thought. Rain clung to the cobblestones, slick and shimmering under the muted glow of a nearby streetlamp. Charles slumped against the cold stone, his breath a ragged symphony of pain he didn’t feel. The wound on his arm—a careful cut he’d made himself—bled just enough to convince anyone, though the blood seeping into his sleeve was nothing compared to the weight in his chest.

He’d been told she would come this way.

The princess of Monaco was known for walking among the people, her kindness spoken of like an old fable passed from lip to lip. A woman with a crown yet no walls, they said. A woman who saw everyone as a person worth saving. It was that softness—her fatal flaw, his boss had said—that made her the perfect target. Charles knew how to exploit such softness. He had done it a thousand times before, slipping into lives just long enough to end them.

And so he waited.

The footsteps came as if conjured from the night itself, light yet steady, moving towards him without hesitation. He pressed his hand against his wound for effect, his jaw tightening, his body folding into the pose of a man undone. When he raised his eyes, there she was.

“Sir, are you hurt?” Her voice was warm, unguarded, each syllable woven with concern. She knelt before him, her coat already sliding from her shoulders to wrap around his trembling form.

“I—yes,” Charles stammered, surprised by how natural the lie felt on his tongue. “It’s nothing. Just… had uh. You shouldn’t—”

“Hush,” she interrupted, her hands already seeking the source of his injury. “You’re bleeding. We need to get you help.”

Her touch was feather-light, and for a moment, Charles forgot the blade hidden at his hip, the kill he had rehearsed in his mind a dozen times. She didn’t flinch at the blood or the grime, her hands steady, her face calm, her eyes impossibly gentle.

It would be easy, he told himself. The knife would be quick. She wouldn’t even see it coming.

But as she looked at him, her gaze a pool of unguarded kindness, something unfamiliar twisted in his chest. It wasn’t guilt—Charles had never known guilt—but a hesitation, like a string pulling him back just as he prepared to strike. He gritted his teeth, forcing the thought away.

Not here. Not now. Next time.

Instead, he let her lift him to his feet, her shoulder under his as she guided him away from the shadows. And for the first time, Charles wondered if he had underestimated her. Not her kindness—that was as plain as the moon overhead—but its weight, its gravity.

And it terrified him.

Her flat wasn’t far—she said as much while helping him along the cobbled streets—but Charles found himself biting back questions. A princess who lived alone, away from the safety of royal walls? Who brought strangers into her home on nothing more than blind trust? It was absurd. Foolish, even. And yet, there she was, walking him through her unlocked door, her arm steadying him as though his weight was nothing.

The space was modest—unexpectedly so for someone of her stature. The furniture was worn, each piece arranged with a care that spoke of practicality over opulence. A collection of books leaned precariously on the edge of a small shelf, and the air smelled faintly of lavender. It was too… human for a woman who should have been untouchable.

“You’re lucky I found you,” she said softly, easing him onto the edge of a worn armchair. “I don’t usually take this route home.” She offered him a small smile, as though his suffering were a strange twist of fate they should both be grateful for.

“Lucky,” Charles echoed, his voice gruff.

If only she knew.

She disappeared into another room, her movements light and unhurried, returning moments later with a first aid kit. “This might sting,” she warned, already dabbing at the wound on his arm. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and for the first time, Charles could see the weight of her kindness—a heaviness in her eyes, as though she carried the burdens of every person she helped.

He clenched his fists. The knife was still there, tucked against his hip. All it would take was a single motion—a flick of the blade and she’d be gone. The mission would be over. His boss would be satisfied, and Charles could leave this city behind.

Do it, he told himself. You’ve done worse to better people.

But his hand remained where it was, resting on the arm of the chair, his fingers curling into the fabric instead of the hilt.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, her voice breaking the silence. “Are you in pain?”

Charles shook his head. “No. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

He looked at her—really looked at her. Her hands were stained with his blood, yet her touch was careful, precise. Her face, so close to his, was unguarded, open in a way that unsettled him. No one ever looked at him like that. No one dared.

“Why did you stop?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

She blinked, surprised by the question. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you don’t know me. For all you know, I could be dangerous.”

Her smile returned, small but unshaken. “Everyone deserves help when they need it. Even if they’re dangerous.”

Something inside him twisted again, tighter this time. He averted his gaze, fixing it on the floor. The blade felt heavier now, its presence burning against his skin.

He could do it. He should do it. But as she worked, humming softly under her breath, Charles realised something with chilling clarity.

He wasn’t hesitating because of guilt. He was hesitating because, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it.

Not yet.

Not now.

“You shouldn’t walk home alone at night,” Charles muttered as she tied off the bandage on his arm. “It’s not safe.”

She tilted her head, studying him with a faint smile. “I imagine most people would say the same about bringing a stranger home, yet here we are.”

He couldn’t argue with that. She had no guards, no locks worth mentioning, not even a dog to bark at the wrong sort of man. Yet there she was, unshaken, as though kindness itself were a shield.

“Stay the night,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ve a spare room you can use. You shouldn’t be moving around much anyway.”

Every instinct Charles had told him to refuse. He should leave, disappear into the night, and finish the job another time. But the offer was tempting, and not for the reasons she thought. Staying close to her would give him the perfect opportunity. No more alleyways, no more waiting. If he stayed, he could end this before morning.

“Alright,” he said, his voice measured. “Just for tonight.”

She nodded, satisfied. “I’ll get you some blankets.”

The spare room was small but comfortable, a single bed tucked into the corner with neatly folded linens at its foot. Charles lay down fully clothed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as the silence pressed in. His work phone sat heavy in his pocket, the messages from his boss unanswered.

He would do it tonight, he told himself. It was cleaner this way, simpler. No witnesses, no complications.

But the hours slipped by, the house silent save for the occasional creak of the floorboards and the soft rhythm of her breathing in the next room. Charles stared at the faint light leaking through the curtains, his body taut with tension, his mind unwilling to rest.

Finally, he rose.

The knife felt familiar in his hand as he moved through the darkened hall, his steps silent. Her door was slightly ajar, a thin sliver of light from the streetlamp outside falling across her sleeping form. She lay curled on her side, one arm tucked beneath her head, her chest rising and falling in an unguarded rhythm.

It would be easy.

Charles stood there for what felt like an eternity, his shadow stretching across the floor as he tightened his grip on the blade. But the longer he watched, the harder it became to move. Her face, serene and untroubled, was unreasonably small in the pale light. There was nothing regal about her now, nothing untouchable. Just a person who had opened her home to a stranger and asked for nothing in return.

He thought of the blood on her hands—not hers, but his, from patching him up without hesitation. He thought of her smile, that maddening softness that made no sense in a world like his.

The knife dropped to his side, his fingers loosening until it slipped from his grip entirely.

He couldn’t do it.

Charles stepped back into the hall, his breath sharp and uneven. His work phone burned in his pocket like a brand, its presence unbearable. He reached for it, his fingers moving mechanically as he scrolled through the messages. The last one was simple, a single word: Update?

His jaw tightened. He moved to the nearest window, pushed it open, and hurled the phone into the night. It clattered onto the cobblestones below, its screen shattering on impact.

For the first time, the weight in his chest lifted.

He closed the window quietly and turned back to the room. The knife lay abandoned on the floor, but he didn’t pick it up. Instead, he returned to the spare room and sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

The mission was over.

It wasn’t enough to walk away now, not with his boss’s reach and the consequences that would follow. If Charles couldn’t kill her, there was only one other option: protect her.

His lips curled into a faint, humourless smile.

He didn’t know what had possessed him to make this choice, but it was too late to turn back.

Now, he was on her side.

Charles woke to the smell of coffee and the soft murmur of a voice carrying through the thin walls. He stretched, his muscles stiff from a restless night, and rubbed his face as he sat up. For a moment, he stared at the unfamiliar room, piecing together where he was and why.

The princess. The knife. The phone thrown out the window.

He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. There was no turning back now.

The voice grew louder as he approached the kitchen, and he paused in the doorway to take in the scene. She was pacing the small space, a mug in one hand and her phone pressed to her ear with the other. Her hair was pulled back, though loose strands framed her face, and her bare feet padded softly across the tiles.

“No, I understand,” she was saying, her tone brisk but tinged with worry. “But I can’t wait two weeks for a replacement. I need someone now.”

She turned and saw him standing there, and her lips curved into a faint, distracted smile. “I’ll call you back,” she murmured into the phone before ending the call.

“Good morning,” she said, setting her mug down on the counter. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” Charles replied, though his gaze lingered on her tense shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Her smile faltered, and for the first time, he saw unease in her expression. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly, then sighed as if realising the futility of her deflection. “Actually, it’s… something. I found a knife outside my bedroom door this morning.”

Charles froze, the words striking like a blow. She wasn’t accusing him—her tone was too uncertain, too trusting for that—but the implications made his stomach twist.

“I assume it was a warning,” she continued, crossing her arms. “I’ve had threats before, but nothing this… direct. I was on the phone with my head of security. Unfortunately, my current detail is out of commission, and replacements take time. More time than I’m comfortable with, frankly.”

Charles’s mind raced, the weight of her words settling like lead in his chest. If she knew how close she had come to real danger, would she be this calm? Or would she have already called the authorities?

He straightened, forcing his voice into a calm he didn’t feel. “That’s… troubling,” he said. Then, after a pause, the lie slipped out as easily as breathing: “You’re lucky. That’s my line of work.”

She blinked, clearly taken aback. “Your line of work?”

“Private security,” Charles clarified smoothly, slipping into the persona as if it had always been his own. “Before… well, before things went sideways.” He gestured to his arm, still wrapped in her bandage. “It’s what I do.”

She tilted her head, studying him with a mixture of curiosity and cautious hope. “You’re serious?”

“Serious enough to know you shouldn’t be pacing around without someone watching your back,” he said. “If you want, I can help. Just until your new detail is sorted.”

The words hung in the air, and Charles braced himself for her to refuse. It would be safer for her, he realised, if she did. But instead, her shoulders relaxed, and a faint smile touched her lips.

“Really?” she asked, her tone laced with relief.

“Really,” Charles said.

She hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Alright. Thank you, truly. I… I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

The irony of her words wasn’t lost on him. He was the threat she feared, yet now he stood between her and the danger she didn’t even know existed.

Charles watched as she moved to pour him a cup of coffee, her back turned to him, her trust laid bare. The knife she’d mentioned hadn’t been a warning; it had been his own. Yet now, instead of finishing the job, he was stepping into a role he’d never imagined for himself.

Protector.

He wasn’t sure what would come next, but one thing was clear: there was no going back.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow

[zephyrrhiesfyrian]

I'm going to bully Emmet in the social media au.

...

Emmet, you are an idiot. Akari is the only person who has been in contact with Ingo since he's been missing and had the ability to share his whereabouts. So logically, it would have been best to message Akari and explain Ingo's disappearance and how you have been looking for him. This way you can finally get in contact with your missing brother and figure out what the hell happened.

But for some arceus forsaken reason you threatened Akari, the only person who can let you and Ingo communicate.

And what did you expect? For Akari to take that bullshit?

No, she did what any sane person would do and block whoever was tormenting her. And now you can no longer get updates on Ingo from the primary source.

You can't tell Ingo how much you miss him. You can't tell Ingo how long you've searched for him, how long you've held out hope for just a glimpse of his coat. About how happy you are to finally see him again, awake and living.

Because the first thing you did upon seeing proof of his existence is to immediately destroy your chances of reunion, digitally as it is right now.

Anyways I hope Chandelure bonks you over the head for your stupidity, you deserve it. And may your joltiks refuse to cuddle you until you make things right.

...

Now time to message Akari!

...

Be safe and don't be an idiot. You have the spite to fight god but you don't got the power yet.

If you want to know anything about Ingo, gym-leader-elesa was his friend. You might find out some embarrassing shit he's done.

Also, whatever you do, don't use any ancient medicine/makeup/products unless you're sure of what's in it. Arsenic, talcum, lead, and mecury was typically used in them so be careful.

...

And finally to Elesa. I don't know if I got her username correct earlier.

...

Thank you for being the responsible one.

I have also angered Emmet so he's your problem now. BYE!!!

Your ask has been distributed by the higher authority of this blog uwu

(please keep your hands and feet inside the car at all times when using Arceus Inter-Dimensional Communication services!)

joltikmas: blocked joltikmas has blocked you

stuck-in-the-past: listen god (i think?) gave me this phone and internet access stuck-in-the-past: i might be a lil fiesty bitch but im not stupid enough to pick a fight with the person payin my internet bills LOL stuck-in-the-past: oooo fr? i will message them, i wanna know if his blank stare is a result of trauma or if he's just Like That stuck-in-the-past: yeeeeah ive been really hesitant abt that stuff but sometimes i cant help it? like pesselle's not gonna let me leave the medical ward without treating my injuries somehow XD stuck-in-the-past: i did find a neat thing on my arcphone that lets me know if something is poisonous or toxic or smth tho stuck-in-the-past: i just open the photo app and point it at whatever the thing is and itll let me know stuck-in-the-past: i did this with mushroom bc i wanted to eat them (they were poisonous. i did not eat them)

gym-leader-elesa: omg that was you? What did you say to him 😭 gym-leader-elesa: He's locked himself in his room and he won't respond to me gym-leader-elesa: his galvantula's with him though so I'm not worried

Thank you for using Arceus Inter-Dimensional Communication!

[cerealmonster15]

YAAAY

➥ One of your favorite lines (or paragraphs) you wrote in 2024:

I'm giving you two and theyre both idia quotes:

The offer was on the table, and it was up to Idia what happened next. The following five seconds stretched across what felt like eons to them both as Idia focused all his energy on trying not to literally pass out on the bench and take Cater down with him, or get overwhelmed by the possibility that if he DID kiss Cater, Cater might immediately throw up all over him and run away screaming. Really, it wasn’t that he didn’t WANT to kiss Cater, but what if he died? What if they both died!?

^ Blue Raspberry Mango

“...Some one, more like it…” Idia snickered.  And then gasped, a look of horror replacing his expression instantly. “Wait- SERIOUSLY? You- AZUL?!” “Shut up!" Jamil hissed, dropping down beside Idia to cover his mouth. “Don’t be so loud!” “Ugh, EW…” Idia grimaced once Jamil pulled away. “I didn’t expect you of all people to have such shit-tier taste in guys.”

^ Double Sided Pining Coin

I didn't realize those were both 2024 lol what a wild and long year. i love writing idia even though i've only done it a few times lol he's soooo much fun to just go ham with.

➥ A fun fact/easter egg/trivia fact for a fic you worked on in 2024:

i cant think of anything surprisingly lol usually i have a lot to say!! but i guess a fun fact about my ao3 stats is that 2 of my top 5 longest fics are ones i wrote in 2024 [3 if you include the fact that the top one is my multichap fic and i wrote a chunk of it in 2024] and theyre both 5k idi/kei and jami/azu fics lol. something about writing those pairs together makes me bonkers. i love how silly they are on their own and even moreso putting them together. theyre fun ships and i looove the board game club's funny hater friendship, and i also like playing with the concepts of the rest of them being friends/interacting in some degree lol

➦ The title or working title of a fic you're currently working on/planning for 2025:

working title "leocay situationship divorce drama" lol. idk if ill write it into a whole thing, i kinda just wrote down a scene that was haunting me and i have an overall vision for the vibe, ive had this vague idea in my head for a few years now but skdfjklsd i'm kind of shy about it so maybe itll just stay in the drafts. or maybe The Madness will overtake me on a whim and itll find it's way on ao3, we'll see lol.

➦ A scene or fic idea that you want to write/try writing for but intimidates you: (very optional but let's put those stretch goals out!)

^ that one over there LOL ummm also. i have considered many a time writing some of my caterella plotlines, some of which include my twst ocs. but im too shy LOL.....

more reasonably, i do have a trey/cater wip that ive begun but it's a long process because it's one i'm taking my time with, a fic that explores cater and trey [and riddle!!!] as characters and their relationships with each other, like snapshots of scenes from when trey and cater first meet at orientation throughout their years at nrc. i was gonna try and get it out before heartslabyul's section of book 7 began but it's just too slow a process, and now we may or may not get more backstory lore of the beloved trio that i could integrate... if it doesnt destroy me in the process JKLFDSKGHGJ i love my heartslabyuls sooo much so i want to write it with care..... but i get SCARED when i'm going beyond just silly goofy time [tho it will also be silly goofy time. i know who i am]

✦ A link to your ao3 or other posting platform so people can see what you've been up to and what you're going to be up to: :3

My ao3 is here! i also tag "#cereal writes" for cross posting, and sometimes here i post out of context wip lines or babble about my trials and tribulations of writing but i dont really tag those so u kinda just gotta catch me in the act teehee

2024 FUCK YEAH I DID IT + 2025 FUCK YEAH IM PLANNING ON DOING IT (fic) writers edition

➥ One of your favorite lines (or paragraphs) you wrote in 2024:

➥ A fun fact/easter egg/trivia fact for a fic you worked on in 2024:

➦ The title or working title of a fic you're currently working on/planning for 2025:

➦ A scene or fic idea that you want to write/try writing for but intimidates you: (very optional but let's put those stretch goals out!)

✦ A link to your ao3 or other posting platform so people can see what you've been up to and what you're going to be up to: :3

Tagging~ let's see. @ladybundle @basuralindo @deezneezz

anyone else is free to do it too, I have not had coffee yet so my brain is bleary.

[killjoy-prince]

House M.D. but it's when Wilson says House's name

[ricky-mortis]

S1 Pulp Musicals Gang my beloved

[wu-wakfu-undertale]

Re-watching wakfu for the first time in years and s1 Yugo was so silly???

dude discovered he could make portals at will and his first thought after actually acknowledging it is "i can do so many cool pranks with this"

[aurriearts]

guys i think i might be a little too obsessed with sura think it’s incurable

[moeblob]

Amazing, take some of the side character demons from Evil Bound.

Vincie is a menace to Chuck and Chuck alone so in Hell, Chuck hexes his hand behind his back so that he isn't grabbed as much (and it's harder to pet him). Chuck is like the most irresponsible older sibling ever to demons though so Kelvin recruits him (as an older sibling vibe) to go help him get his ACTUAL older sibling from Earth. Chuck agrees. And then drags Vincie from Hell with them because no one else wants to babysit him and he refuses to unbind the hex just to re-hex when he returns to Hell.

In Hell, Kelvin actually doesn't appear much different than his human form! Like Kronos, the lines under his eyes are red in Hell but black on earth. Chuck however? In Hell he has wolf-ish ears and has a fur lining his neck (note the neck scars in human form). In addition to that he has four eyes in Hell (note the scars under his eyes in human form). Vincie just has horns in Hell. And! In Hell the hex doesn't have a silly looking "tied up" look, it's invisible unless Vincie strains it with movement and then its red text. But it shifts on earth to be visible.

Vincie's biggest agony for the entirety on earth is "dude it's colder here than in Hell I want a jacket to slip my arms into BUT I CANT BECAUSE IM BOUND".

[graff-aganda]

No no ikr. The ENT fandom is so quiet around here. And honestly I'm just excited to see art of my favourite dudes, because we rarely get fanart around here, and when we do it's usually Trip or T'Pol solely. Malcolm gets left in the dust quite a lot so I'm happy you drew him as well - and so well done too!

Anyway, ramble over, lol.

OMG... Well I think I can see why a lot of fanart is of Trip and/or T'pol (those two seem like they're doing some heavy lifting for the show/are just a lot of people's faves. I've got a few half baked ideas in mind for them myself.) but the rest of the crew as a whole do deserve more love I think! :]

[anti-transphobia]

Everyone posts about how Stardew Valley is a cozy LGBT+ inclusive game but NO ONE mentions the lack of a platonic option for the bachelors/bachelorettes. Which would be good for aspec people and also just more pleasant for many casual players I believe but that's not even the point. I just want to become best friends with everyone and not only does that require me dating everyone at once and feeling like a sleazebag because of it (ik the bad cutscene can be avoided but I know in my heart they'd be hurt if they knew) BUT it also means the women flirt with me!!!!! Constantly!!!!!!! It makes me sick to my stomach. Truly ruining the characters I liked

[verflares]

this all being said about the light dragon and how it is definitely the biggest highlight of totk (for me at least), i Do think a lot of the reaction to it Is dependent on botw and zelda's characterisation from that game... a lot of which is kind of lacking in totk because of her more passive role (e.g. you are told about her + see her actions after they have already happened)

like. if you didn't already really like zelda and were sold on her relationship with link (and not even just from a shipping zelink perspective, like. just UNDERSTANDING they have a strong bond from everything they've gone through together) then i'm not sure if any of that stuff in totk would've hit as hard as it did. the game does very little to build on what we already know about them, which i think is both a letdown to new players (which. i am not sure why they are playing the sequel before botw, but that is how totk acts most of the time lmao) and returning ones, and as time goes on it's become harder for me to blame people for not caring for it as much.

what a truly odd game

[riiviir]

hey guys so I just started reading Flatland by Edwin A. Abbott and OMG AHSBNSBSBSNSNBSHZHSHDBFHGGHFHGRJ2KSHSBSNSK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE THINKING ABOUT THE RELATIVITY BETWEEN DIMENSIONS!!!!!!

[artificer-real]

*steals your trauma*

There, it's mine now. You can't have it back.

(I'll let you decide if this is an in-character ask or not)

HEY, I-

I...

I think I need to sit down for a moment...

[orcelito]

Thinking again about my plans for Vash and Knives in ITNL

Which I can't really get into the specifics for How I'm going to do things w/o going into spoiler territory. But I Do have Vash & Knives tagged on the fic for a reason. I set up in the first chapter that Vash is determined to try to save Knives too.

Which. That choice, as well as the entire basis for all of this, depends so much on that final fight in trimax. The one that was literally a scene away from where ITNL Vash went back in time. His mentality just a hair's width away from that...

At the end of trimax, there was reconciliation, however brief and incomplete it was. In ITNL, my question to myself was How could I induce that again? Under different circumstances, How Else could we get there? And that is the long-game in ITNL.