#and then threw him down to Hell and made him Enemy Number One

[corrcdedcoffin]

Put Your Head on My Shoulder - JJ Maybank

frenemies(?) to friends jj maybank x reader

request: no

summary: you and jj are banned from being alone together after you trying to injure him. but one day, he shows up on your front step and breaks down.

warnings: 18+, small acts of violence? (reader throws things) descriptions of a panic attack (nothing crazy tho), hurt/comfort fic, happy ending, fluff, enemies to friends trope

word count: 1.8k

You didn't necessarily hate JJ, but for the longest time you didn't exactly like him. He was loud, crude, smoked too much weed and drank too many beers, and he never took anything seriously. Ever.

It wasn't something you'd expressed to everyone, but they could tell that you weren't exactly his number one fan. That being said, you did have some fun times with him. When he wasn't trying too hard, you thought he was quite funny, maybe even a little charming, though you'd never admit it.

Most of the time he made you roll your eyes in annoyance, or occasionally you'd tell him to fuck off and shut up. JJ always took it as an invitation to fuck around even more, particularly to get a rise out of you. He reminded you of an annoying kid in your second grade class, always getting sent to the office or the hall for being a disturbance. Chasing everyone around during recess and thinking they enjoyed it (when they clearly didn't). 

It was agreed upon the group that the two of you were not to be left alone after you threw rocks at him in retaliation to him pestering you all day once. You were thankful for that, truly. 

You'd all shown up at John B's with no plan, as you usually do, but were quickly forced to find something else to do. John B and Sarah said they had a date day planned and couldn't hang out, and it wasn't long after they left that Kiara had been called to help at The Wreck, leaving with an eye roll and a warning to play nice, or else. Pope never even showed up, so it was obvious he got stuck working. That left you and JJ. 

It wasn't your ideal situation, but it wasn't like he was some monster. He couldn't be that bad one on one, right? 

Wrong. 

You went for ice cream, and he made a bigger mess than the literal children there. His hands were a sticky mess, the table, napkins everywhere, and he did not. stop. talking. 

After ice cream, he begged you to stop at the corner store for snacks. You went in and selected your few, and couldn't help the scoff you let out after seeing JJ ogle the cashier. You weren't jealous, absolutely not, but you did briefly wonder what it'd be like to be desired by JJ Maybank. It was cut short when the sound of a crash made you jump. 

JJ was on the floor, a display rack of candy and chips knocked down and spread out next to him. 

"Fucking idiot" you muttered as you began to clean it up, JJ sheepishly helping.

Then, you'd gone back to John B's house (JJ's request), and lounged under the big tree for the rest of the day. It was nice, until JJ started talking and didn't stop (again), then throwing candies at you when you didn't answer, and then twigs when you still didn't answer. 

John B, Sarah and Kiara all showed up to you chasing JJ with a handful of rocks, throwing them at him as hard as you could. The rule was put in place right then and there, and for months, it helped. You were thankful to not have to spend a minute alone with him ever again. 

Except for right now. JJ Maybank was on your front steps in the early hours of the night.

"What?" was all you asked as you opened the door for him, staring expectantly. What the hell could he possibly want?

"Have you heard from John B?"

"No, why?"

"What about Pope? Or Kie o-or even Sarah?"

There was something off about him. He was dishevelled: the neck of his shirt was stretched out, there was a few rips in it, his hair was messier than usual - not in the casual 'i just woke up' way he always has, and he had a frantic look in his eye. Something you couldn't really decipher.

"No, I think they're working. And I don't know about Sarah and John B, probably on a date" you shrugged. "Are you good?"

You knew he wouldn't answer truthfully, but you weren't gonna be a dick and ignore his obvious distress.

JJ laughed maniacally. "Of course! I'm great! On top of the fucking world, thanks for asking! Would be super stellar if my fucking friends would answer their phones."

You pursed your lips as you silently observed him, choosing not to take offence at not being considered a friend of his. You weren't entirely sure you'd call him a friend either. His lower lip had a cut that was fresh, pried open once more in his outburst; bright red and pink all around. His left cheek was also a bit red, starting to look a little purple.

"You sure?"

If looks could kill, he'd have chopped you in half just then. "Yes, I'm sure! I just need— I need-" he stopped, hand gripping his chest and rubbing as if he couldn't catch his breath. He crouched down, taking sharp shallow inhales.

Your eyes went wide before you snapped into action.

Helping him lean back against the porch wall, you crouched in front of him and placed a hand over the one on his chest, the other on his shoulder. "Okay, it's alright" you spoke calmly. He'd never heard you sound so gentle.

"I know it hurts, but I need you to focus on my voice."

"I can't" he choked out, eyes shut tight, hand subconsciously gripping onto yours in attempt to ground himself.

"Yes you can. I need you to take a deep breath, and don't let it out until I tell you to, okay?"

He gripped your hand even harder, looking up at you, silently pleading for help. It made your heart twist. You may not have been the best of friends, but there was something about seeing him like this that made you.. hurt. You hurt for him, and with him.

"In," you continued, taking a breath with him. "Now let it out."

His breath was shaky, but his eyes didn't leave yours. Not even after the fourth breath when you reached down for his other hand and started lightly squeezing in rhythm with your breathing, thumb rubbing gently across the back of his hand.

JJ was trying as hard as he could to ignore the feeling of his chest caving in, and focus on you instead. The way you held onto him tight, how you looked so concerned. Were you worried about him?

He found it easy to focus on you. 

You watched as he went from an anxious ball of fear to being able to control his breathing again, muttering soft words of encouragement as he slowly regained his composure. You took the breaths with him, acting as a guide and not letting him stray from the instructions. You weren't sure how long it took, but the sky was nearly fully dark and it seemed awfully quiet out.

JJ pulled his hand away from his chest, and you began to remove your hands from his grip. "Don't, please. Not yet" he swallowed harshly.

You nodded silently, shuffling over to sit next to him instead, back resting against the porch wall, shoulders touching. He kept your hand in a firm grip, squeezing every so often with a deep breath.

"What was that?"

"Panic attack," you stated, nodding your head slightly.

"Huh. How did you know what to do?"

You stared blankly for a moment before responding. "I used to get them a while back, when my mom was in the hospital. My dad said she used to get them too, and that's what he'd do to calm her down. And for me."

JJ nodded, giving your hand a light squeeze.

It was strange to be here with him. You knew you were his last option; it didn't bother you, but to have him so close and in a vulnerable state like so, it felt like almost like a privilege to be by his side.

You always thought of him as arrogant and crass, when really he's just as fragile as you, or anyone else. It wasn't a secret that his home life was troubled, but before this you'd always thought he was invincible in a way. That nothing affected him.

It was silent for a long time as the two of you sat there, holding hands. JJ was glad you didn't pester him about it, wondering why he freaked out or offering solutions and unsolicited advice. You let him play with your fingers, examining your nail polish and your rings, then your bracelets.

"Thank you" he spoke quietly, finally building up the courage to look at you.

You turned to him, expression almost unreadable and gave him a nod. "S'what friends are for, right?" you smiled lightly.

Huh, friends, he thought. He didn't not like the sound of it.

Things were different after that.

What used to be arguments between you two turned into playful banter. You started spending more time together in small groups, then eventually one on one. Turns out you had more in common than either one of you ever thought.

The others noticed your blossoming friendship. It was slow, calm, and it seemed to patch a hole in your hearts that neither of you knew was there.

For a while you tiptoed around each other, going through a phase of politeness before being comfortable treating each other like the rest of the group. You learned more about him bit by bit. Whenever he had that feeling in his chest, he'd come straight to you, no matter where you were. He found comfort in you. 

It was easy for him to talk to you, surprisingly. He found himself telling you things he'd never said aloud, not even to John B.

He liked to study you, too. 

You were rowdy and wild around your friends, and very quiet around people you didn't know or like. You were a good listener, and never ever offered unwarranted advice; always making sure people's feelings were validated and understood. 

You snort when you laugh, and you always cough when you smoke, no matter what. You became the champ at shot-gunning beers, and he thought it was funny when you made yourself a crown out of beer cans. 

When you were nervous or anxious, you pressed your thumbs really hard. 

JJ felt a sense of responsibility to help you the way you help him, and you appreciated it. The way he'd place himself in front of you slightly around people who made you uncomfortable, and how he'd gently rub his knuckles on the back of your arm to let you know he was there with you, ready to bail whenever you said the words.

Life wasn't perfect on the cut, but as you got off the H.M.S Pogue at the chateau after a long day of swimming and smoking, taking JJs extended hand from the dock: the smile on his face and the twinkle in his eye told you that none of it mattered as long as your friends were by your side.

And you were glad he was one of them.

don't be shy, reblog!

[trashogram]

I kinda like the idea of Hazbin’s God having the persona of the Sultan from Aladdin: a well-meaning but short-sighted jolly old man that loves playing with his toys.

The biggest problem is his toys can think and feel and have their entire lives jeopardized bc of God’s constant “do it for the plot” mentality.

[floswife]

SORE LOSER - T.N X READER

Pairing: Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore and Y/n learn how to better focus their hate for each other

Warnings: SMUT, oral, dubcon..?

Author’s notes: this is my first time writing smut so I honestly apologise for how inevitably bad this will be 💀

Y/n didn’t know what it was about seeing the anger flash before Theo’s eyes when she’d taunt him, but it honestly was her main motivation when competing against him.

Like now in this quidditch match as she threw the quaffle threw the goal hoops once more, she had to turn to look at Theo for a split second just for the sake of rubbing salt into the wound. She would like to lie and say she was ashamed of her pettiness but what’s the point in that?

She had been out to get him ever since he made her cauldron explode in potions, which prompted Snape to hate her even more than he usually did with Gryffindors. Which was quite a feat, she wasn’t on a Harry Potter level of hatred but on the other hand Snape didn’t have a perpetual hard on for her mother either so that probably helped her too.

In hindsight it was a petty reason to name someone your sworn enemy, but his smug smile when he saw her turn to glare at him was enough to set her eleven year old brain off. Plus she just really liked being a hater for no reason.

After successfully winning the game she went over to Theo who was leaning against the wall, looking like a kicked puppy, she couldn’t lie, seeing him like that really did numbers on her but she wasn’t about to let that get in the way of her favourite thing to do with Theo, gloat.

“How does it feel to lose yet again, Nott?” She called out cheerily, the broad grin he loved hated so much painted across her face.

He groaned in annoyance at the sound of her voice, “leave me alone, l/n, I’m not in the mood.”

He had always been a sore loser, she laughed in amusement “or what? I’m sorry but the last I checked you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Theo glared at her as she stood in front of him, both of them still in their quidditch uniforms, he towered over her but she did well to push that thought to the back of her mind as she had been doing ever since he annoyingly hit a growth spurt in third year. She remembered how ranted about it to her friends later on, pretending to ignore her friends knowing smirks as she’d feel a rosy blush rise to her cheeks every time she had to crane her neck to meet his cold gaze.

“Why do you always have to be such a brat?” He sneered at the girl.

“Oh I’m the brat? I’m not the one sulking like a child because I lost a match.” Y/n’s continuous retorts just made him snap.

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to follow after him, practically dragging her, and took her under the quidditch stands.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She rubbed her wrist in annoyance at his harsh grip.

“I’m gonna teach you how to shut up.” He pushed her down to her knees and she looked up at him in shock, she looked forward and saw the prominent tent in his trousers, “now be a good girl and listen to me for once.” His voice was slightly whiny as he said that, like he was begging her.

Y/n gulped, really beginning to question her morals, but all her internal monologue silenced when he unzipped his trousers and freed his member from its constraints with a throaty groan, wetness pooled between her legs at the sound and just the sight of his pretty cock. Merlin he was big.

He rubbed the tip along her lips, the salty taste of his precum invaded her tastebuds.

“Open your mouth and put that mouth to good use.” He demanded, she did as she was told and tentatively kitten licked the tip, he threw his head back in satisfaction and let out a whimper? She then wrapped her mouth around his tip and sucked.

He moaned her name out even louder, making her moan around his cock at the sound, she took as much of him down her throat as possible, she gagged when he hit the back of her throat but she powered through, bobbing her head up and down and using her hand to pump at the parts of his shaft that couldn’t fit in her mouth.

“Fuck! Just like that. Taking me so well.”

He was groaning loudly, and she suddenly gained awareness that they weren’t exactly in the most private of places, she tried to pull away to tell him to shut up but he just wrapped a hand in her hair and pushed her back down, he began thrusting his hips and fucked her mouth, tears ran down her cheeks and saliva dribbled out the corners of her mouth as he used her as he pleased. The thought of how blatantly he was using her as just an object couldn’t help but arouse her.

“Being such a good girl for me.”

He held her head down on his cock and she struggled to breath, he twitched before releasing down her throat, he pulled out and tapped her cheek, ���swallow.”

He tucked himself away and she got up and stuck out her tongue to show him she swallowed.

He now smirked, “it wasn’t that hard to listen now was it?”

Y/n was still in a haze as she tried to compose herself and have the decency to at least pretend to be embarrassed and tried to pull away but he firmly placed his hands on her hips and pulled her right back against him again, “Shut up, Nott.”

He raised his brows teasingly and she couldn’t help but grow frustrated at how he had switched the tables on her so quickly when she was so clearly set up for a win.

“That’s not how someone who just had my cock down my throat should be speaking, now is it?” His voice was mocking, condescending.

She get that familiar heat pool between her thighs once more and she remained speechless, he smirked.

“Such a shame, you were gonna get a reward for being such a good girl.”

She tried to gain her composure as she scoffed, “like I’d want it.” She really did want it

He leaned in, that stupid lazy smirk on his lips again, “so you’re not soaked right now?”

Her eyes widened and he then inched his hand from her hip to under her waistband, as soon as his fingers touched her wetness that had completely soaked through her panties she moaned lightly, her eyes rolling back at the contact she was yearning this whole time.

“Theo!” She gasped.

He pulled his fingers away just as quickly as it came he pulled his finger and he brought it to his lips to suck her juices clean from it and he hummed, “so sweet.. on second thought, let’s continue this tonight, room of requirements?”

“What-“

And just like that he left her there, needy for his touch.

She really did hate him.

But he was so hot.

Looks like she had plans for the night.

Part two?

[kkayyerr]

Cute & Creepy

Summary: Rafe finding his little one with his gun in her hands.

Cw: Age regression, little!reader, slight angst, fluff in the end.

Trigger warnings: Weapon, shouting, slight swearing, dark!Rafe.

author’s note: English isn’t my first language, so don’t be a meanie!

Rafe spend almost an hour wondering around the house and trying to find his gun. He never had lost it before so the whole situation was very intimidating for him for two particular reasons.

One, he hated feeling himself unprotected and not having his weapon with him.

And two, he knew that you were regressed right now which had meant that you would probably take that thing for the toy if you would find it first.

Rafe tried to search for it everywhere and had already made a mess out of his room. When the gun was nowhere to be found he started to slowly losing his shit. How could he even let that happened in the first place and why does that had to happen right now, when he needed that thing the most? Of course he wanted his gun to be on his hands always, just so he could’ve been prepared to some crazy shit that Pogues might wanna push, but he wanted it to be there especially when you where little.

You could’ve get killed, injured, kidnapped or else, and he definitely couldn’t let that happened.

Rafe reached for his phone and found Barry’s number quickly, prepared to call him as he heard a loud noise coming from the downstairs that made him flinch.

Gunshot.

Shit.

He threw his phone on the nightstand and stormed out of the room, running downstairs as quick as it was possible.

When he came into the living room he saw you. And his gun in your shaking little hands.

You turned your head to the sounds of his footsteps, the look of pure terror on your face. You didn’t know what exactly scared you that much, the fact that you just had left a bullet hole in the wall, or the angry gaze that Rafe gave you when he saw his gun in your hand.

He quickly approached you grabbing your wrist tightly, and snatching the gun out of your hand.

He gave you two painful slaps on both of your hands.

„How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of my shit, huh?”

You remained silent, putting your head down. You didn’t like seeing him like this. Every time he would shout at you or just gave you a disappointed look you had felt very guilty for what you had done to make him unpleased.

You always wanted to make him proud, since the first day him being your caregiver.

Or at least it what he had tought you.

You had to make him proud to earn his affection and attention.

He harshly grabbed your chin, pulling your head up and making you look him in the eyes, as he bend down to your level.

„Look at me! How many times?”

Your gaze became blurry from the tears that appeared in your eyes when you saw exactly how angry he was with you. You already knew what that meant.

No playtime, no cuddles and of course no sweets for almost a week.

„M..many.“

His grip on your chin became softer, as he saw the tears in your eyes. Yes, he might’ve been a strict daddy, but he definitely didn’t like to see his little girl cry because of his behavior that might’ve been a bit much sometimes.

„Exactly. And why in the hell did I catch you there with the god damn gun in your hand?“

You let out a heavy sigh. You didn’t know how to explain that exactly, but seeing him so tired and angry all the time for the couple of last weeks haven’t been sitting right with you. You wanted to help Rafe, protect him from his enemies that he had been talking about with his folks. You wanted to protect him from everything and everyone, actually, because what would you let someone hurt your daddy?

„Wanted to pwotect you, daddy.”

You muttered, as your cheeks slightly blushed. For some reasons you didn’t wanted him to know that you actually cared about him that much.

Rafe’s eyes widened at your response, which he definitely didn’t expected from you.

Protect?

His gaze softened and his tone now became more gentle, as your quiet confess made his cold heart melt a little bit.

„Protect me from what, baby?”

He asked, a small smile now playing on his lips, as his expression now was almost soft, which was a rare occasion for him. Your lips were also tugged into smile, the shy one, as you were trying to find the right words in your little head.

„Bad people.”

Your words almost made him chuckle, but he kept his expression serious, now trying to find a way to calm you down and made those stupid thoughts about „protection” disappear.

He nodded to you, and then slowly pulled you close, patting your head in the calming manner.

He was glad that you weren’t smart enough to understand that „bad person” in question was now holding you in his arms.

„You don’t need to protect me, baby, that my job, understood? I will protect the both of us.”

He held you close to him, as you hide your face in his neck, probably trying to find some comfort after reliving a stressful situation. He tried to kept his tone firm, even though little proud smile formed on his lips.

„Daddy?”

You whispered in his neck, your voice gentle, and somehow Rafe knew that you were about to drop yet another confession.

You looked up, and your eyes had those little sly glimpse in them for a second before you spoke up.

„I also know how to use a knifey.”

Rafe couldn’t help himself but laugh at your admission. He gently ruffled your hair, giving you a small kiss on your forehead, showing that there is no consequences this time.

„You are actually a daddy’s little girl, aren’t you?”

The next day Rafe showed up home with a pink toy gun that he had bought specifically for you.

Taglist: @marvelfanfics1 and my dear Polly who I couldn’t tag because of tumblr for some reason😭.

[odiesdayoff]

Kinktober: Jonathan Crane

Pair: Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary: Gotham's more of a nightmare than it used to be and Crane has his sights on you.

Warnings: On the tin. NON-CON (Kidnapping/Restraints/Leashes/Collars/Breeding)

You poured a fresh whiskey into a short glass over ice cubes, then pushed it to another faceless man sitting at the bar. Lights were flashing and the music was a bit too loud for your liking, but money was money and the protection that the job gave you was probably the only reason you were still a free woman.

The knock on the counter brought you from your serving-induced stupor. Oswald Cobblepot. “Hey, sweetheart. Need you to work a double tonight.” He pushed aside the man drinking the whiskey.

“Tonight? Isn’t Stacey scheduled after me?” You washed the shaker cup and placed it upside down to dry. As much as you needed the money, you’d much rather get home before it got too dark and monumentally more dangerous for you.

He sighed, reaching over the counter and pouring some of the whiskey into a free glass. “Got collared. Don’t know when or if she’ll come back.” Of course, the number one reason for the girls leaving the job. Two weeks ago, the bar staff and performers totaled 50. It was now 27.

You instinctively pursed your lips and took a deep breath. The thought of what she might’ve been going through was bad enough, but the reality was the truly horrifying part. Your freedom was slightly stealth, but mostly luck. “By who?”

“Firefly. I should have you all escorted home before these schlemiels steal all my girls.” He finished his drink and slammed it against the counter. “Eh, too much money.”

A few more men sat around the bar while he walked away. Of course he was not one to waste his money on something that actually protects his staff. Too busy spending it on drops and whatever other drugs that he can sell to his customers.  Asshole. 

Acts as if he doesn’t have a girl collared in his house. You’ve seen her once or twice. She’s pretty, but it was clear that he did a number on her before parading her around the club. “What the hell is wrong with this city?” One of the men finally asked as you handed him a dry martini.

“What isn’t wrong with it?” You grumbled under your breath, starting on the Manhattan for another one of the men. 

They laugh, a bit too loud. Clearly, this wasn’t the first bar they’d been to tonight. “No, seriously. Got mugged twice and we’ve only been here two days. All the women are on fucking leashes. Or people fucking out in the open.” He took a long sip of his drink, looking around at the debauchery still happening around the bar.

“You know how most cities have a hero? Ours was killed. Chaos ensued.” You mixed the drink, shaking the bottle. “Basically, they made a whole set of rules that give absolute control to those who fought Batman. Territory, people…you get it.”

The day that the Batman died was something you’d never forget, as if it was your life stopped at that moment the news broadcast was shown on every screen in the city. Nobody thought the Joker would be able to do it. Both Batman and the Joker were natural enemies, bound never to end their feud. 

Some say it was a mistake. But the second it happened, he had his plan to create chaos and eventually, everyone else followed suit. Just as his (somewhat) partner in crime, Harley Quinn, was planning on leaving him, he locked her onto him. With the same collar she used for her pets.

He let all of the inmates of Arkham escape, taught them the new rules, and everybody else had to play catch up or try to get out of the city as fast as possible. Especially after the mayor fell. Bella Reál was ambushed in her office by the newly escaped Riddler. Nobody has seen her since.

It felt like the shift lasted forever, but you appreciated the extra tips from the more drunken customers wishing they could fuck you and knowing they couldn’t. It was raining when you stepped outside, through the back where nobody could see. You threw your hood over your head and ran in the direction of your apartment.

It was well known that it was more dangerous than normal for a woman to be out at night. More likely to get caught by a man with a little bit of power under his belt. You were cutting through the alley right outside of your apartment when someone grabbed your arm.

The man yanked you back and pushed you against the wall. “Well, well, well. It’s been a while since I saw a free woman that was this gorgeous.”

His face was familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Your panicked state overrides facial recognition. “Who the fuck do you think you are? I have nothing to give you.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if you told a joke. “Let me tell you a bit about me. I fought the Bat more than you can imagine, which gives me more than enough of a right to pin you down and take what I want." His hand cupped your cheek and a finger glided across your quivering lips. "I pride myself as a man with class, so I'm going to take you home, give you a nice meal, then I'm going to shove my dick in you."

You fought against him, though he barely showed his struggle to keep you still. "You're really going to make me do this?" He rolled his eyes and reached into the briefcase-like bag around his shoulder. He pulled out a small leather collar, swiftly bringing it over your head and slipping it onto your neck.

The tightness of the collar restricted your breathing enough to stop you from struggling to save air and he wrapped the connecting leather strap around his hand. "There you go. Now you're on a leash. Happy?"

You spat at him. "No! I'm not fucking happy!"

He tugged at the leash, effectively pulling you to the black car that waited on the curb right outside of the alleyway's opening. You wondered how long he'd been preparing for this moment. How long he knew who you were.

~~

In the defense of Jonathan Crane, he did try to give you a nice dinner. The man cuffed you to a chair and made small talk as he cooked, then fed the meal to you. Of course, you refused it. Nothing could get you to accept this life, no matter how legal it was now.

His rough hands dragged you from the chair to the neatly made bed and he pushed you on your stomach, climbing on top of you.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, slut." He whispered hoarsely into your ear as he pulled the clothes from your body. The fabric of his pants dragged against your skin and the outline of his erection was unavoidable. "Get on your fucking hands and knees."

You had no choice but to obey, afraid of whatever he could do. Other than the obvious. He teased your opening with his leaking tip, then pushed into you without warning. His groans of pleasure drowned out the whimpers and cries coming from you.

He wasted no time in fucking you, taking what he wanted as he called it. His thrusts were hard and full of need. When was the last time he'd done something like this with someone else? Had he ever?

He wrapped the leash around his hand and pulled so that your head was up and facing the headboard. You choked, not that he showed any concern. "Bet you're used to this, huh? Leaving that club every day?"

He slapped your ass with his free hand. "Those days are over. You'll be my little housewife. Cook my meals. Wet my cock. Have my children."

He sped up, desperately chasing his high. He whimpered and laid his chest against your back, pushing himself as far as he possibly could. That's when you felt it. That overwhelming warmth inside of you that you knew could only be one thing.

"Don't think it's over now. Still have to make sure it sticks."

[serenadeonacanoe]

Honestly, I'd piss him off on purpose. Chapter 2:

Pairing: Namjoon x Original Female Character

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, too tired to beta

Tags: Artist!Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae are the best flatmates, Enemies to Lovers I guess… more like brats to making out in the storage unit, OFC is an idiot.

More chapters on AO3

---------------------------------------------

Even the sound of my own nails rhythmically tapping on the counter was annoying me. To be fair, it didn’t take much today to blow my fuse, which had never been particularly long in the first place. But after a week of being belittled by old white men and working endless hours of unpaid overtime, I’d about had it.

Welcome to the art world. You know well before you enter that the hours are brutal and the job market is more than frustrating, but you love art. You’ve got good organizational skills, you’re resilient, charming when it counts, and you tend to romanticize things even when you know you shouldn’t. It’s too late to turn back now.

"That’s why I don’t use an agenda or notebook. If something’s important enough for me to attend, I simply won’t forget. I know you youngsters are all about bullet journaling and expressing yourselves by mapping out your lives, but really it’s just another way to procrastinate instead of getting to actual work."

For a second, I considered throwing my damn notebook in the buyer’s face, but that probably wouldn’t have helped my CV or the new job I’d have to look for starting tomorrow. At the very least, I should’ve screamed at him a little. Mainly that I didn’t care. That I had PMS. That my shitty shower in the shitty apartment I shared had broken and no dry shampoo in the world had fixed my hair this morning. That goddamn it, how the hell was I supposed to remember every phone number, every call my boss had to take, every art handling transport I’d organized if I couldn’t write it down somewhere.

Instead, I smiled. Died a little inside. Complimented him on the gift of his exceptional memory and asked whether he’d like another cup of coffee.

“What a dick.” Samantha murmured, more to herself than to me, once the guy had finally left. It made me snort under my breath. She usually didn’t say much, but when she did, it was straight to the point.

In the end, it didn’t matter that he was a dick. Didn’t matter that everyone at the gallery thought the art he’d bought from us over the last few months had been neither smart nor impressive purchases. Just expensive. And flashy.

“Doesn’t matter now.” I said with a sigh, glancing at the clock. It was Friday night and we were about to close. Since it was my birthday on Monday, I’d taken two days off, the longest break I’d had all year, and I was looking forward to being the lazy slob for a few days I was maybe always meant to be.

In silence, we answered a few last emails, tidied up the desks and counters so that potential buyers coming in over the weekend wouldn’t suspect anyone had actually been working here. A white desk. A huge iMac on it. That was all they needed to see. Folders, pens, and apparently especially agendas had to be hidden away in drawers.

At five to eight, I threw on my coat and Samantha gave me a tired smile. Probably happy for me. Just exhausted.

“Have fun then? Don’t get too wasted?”

“Oh…” I grinned, smug. “You have no idea. Gonna take a bottle of Moët with me from the bar and drink it in my bathtub after eating a huge pepperoni pizza by myself and dancing to only the finest of '90s Euro Trash.”

I couldn’t help it, I felt it necessary to give Sam a little demonstration, waving my arms up and down while swaying my hips in a way I probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t had even a small audience. Or maybe two?

A quiet scoff behind me made me turn around fast, slowly lowering my arms. Sam bit her lower lip, and there I was, standing like an idiot in front of HIM, of all people.

Men didn’t have to be old to annoy me. Or white. Yes, those were usually the ones that pissed me off most, but no one had managed to do so quite like Kim Namjoon lately.

And now he was standing there, looking me up and down, stopping at my hair. The crazy, too-much-dry-shampoo-because-the-shower-broke hair.

“Nice.” he said, then looked over at Sam.

“I’d like to take a last look before Sunday’s opening, if that’s okay?”

I stood there, shoulders dropping, completely ignored.

“Uhm, actually, my babysitter has to leave in about an hour and I’ll need to be home by then.” Samantha replied, impressively calm.

“Of course.” Namjoon said with a slight smile. “Anyone else still around? Chris, maybe?”

Of course, Chris hadn’t been in today. It was Friday, and unless important guests had announced themselves, the gallery owner didn’t come in on Fridays.

“I’m afraid not. But maybe Charlotte has a few minutes?”

Well. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I felt a little betrayed.

“Wouldn’t want to keep anyone from their important Moët-Pizza-Dance Party plans.” Namjoon said before I could get a word in. His voice dropped to that hushed, deep disapproval, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his rather expensive-looking coat. Silence. Then he just walked off toward the room where his exhibition had been set up all week, showing without saying it that I’d be staying, whether I liked it or not.

“Well, thank you for pushing me under the bus like that. Really appreciate it.”

“I’m so sorry. But I was serious. I can’t lose this sitter. She got Jamie to eat vegetables. Vegetables!”

Samantha was suddenly in a rush, grabbing her jacket and purse, showering me with promises to make it up to me. We both knew that wouldn’t happen and it wasn’t necessary. Staying late was normal. I just hated that it had to be today. And because of him.

I heard the door close behind Sam and stood there for a second before putting my bag down again. Usually, I would’ve followed the artist, asked if I could help somehow, but nah… My ego was bruised up enough already - especially remembering the little dance. I closed my eyes.

Fucking hated the guy. Always had. Well, not quite.

I’d thought he was cool for about five minutes when he first came in. We’d heard about him for a few months before. I think I’d even seen pictures of him at some point, but those were nothing compared to seeing him in real life.

He came in all cheekbones and an all-gray outfit, quick pace, observant gaze. Incredibly hot. He also completely ignored me.

That's how it started - a bruised ego. He couldn't know that it was my weak spot.

I had studied art and its management, but often felt more like a glorified secretary. My colleagues and I were doing all the behind-the-scenes work while Chris strolled in for a few hours, reaped all the money, and got the recognition. I knew this wasn’t unique to the art world, but it still got under my skin... I’d imagined life in my late twenties to be a bit more glamorous than living in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city... spending Friday night waiting for some rude artist dude to finally leave so I could lock up.

But what I probably hated most about him was that I admired him. Purely for his art. Really. Even the way he acted like I didn’t exist every time he came in didn’t stop me from admitting that - at least to myself. The stories behind his massive collages were clever, well thought-out. And even without knowing the context, the aesthetics alone were stunning. His work reached into something deep, and standing in front of it, I always had a hundred questions. Whenever he brought in a new piece, I was the first to sneak a peek in the back before it got hung.

"I don't get why you have such a problem with him. He’s just... quiet. I think he might even be shy. Stop being so sensitive and just ask him out already." I had almost strangled Sam for that comment a couple of weeks ago. Stop being so sensitive. What did that even mean? Words like that made me want to cry and scream at the same time, which would, of course, be perceived as even more sensitive. But when had being numb become something to aim for? I didn’t say anything because I liked Sam, and I knew what she meant. At least I thought I did. That maybe I wouldn’t care so much if I wasn’t actually attracted to Namjoon. I’d never said it, but she knew. She knew that if I didn’t care about something, I didn’t waste my time on it. But if something pissed me off? Yeah, there was usually more to it. I hated that she could read me that easily. Still, he was a dick. And I still just wanted to go home.

He took his sweet time. After an hour, I walked up to him, a little speech prepared about how he could come back first thing tomorrow. But when he turned around, he just lifted a hand between us like a barrier and turned away again. I hadn’t seen he was on the phone. "No, it’s nothing. Just one of the gallery employees." he said. And okay... if I wasn’t about to explode before, I definitely was now. I stood there for a moment, fuming, then walked back to the office area. My hand shook as I began switching off the gallery lights one by one. It wasn’t quite as satisfying as I’d hoped, but still felt good. Two minutes later, only the light above my head and the one by the door were left on. I figured I’d at least show him which way to go - he clearly needed help.

When Namjoon stepped out from one of the darker corners, he looked even more annoyed than usual. He squinted at me, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. "Seriously?" he shouted, nearly walking into one of the flyer shelves. Not the first time I’d seen him do that, so maybe it wasn’t the lighting’s fault.

I felt oddly triumphant. By the time I had my coat on and turned off the last two lights, ready to finally lock up, Namjoon had just about made his way to the door. He was still on the phone, standing right in the open entrance. I gave a little groan when he didn’t even notice me standing behind him... or maybe he did and just didn’t care. Instead of clearing my throat or trying to squeeze past him, I just placed my hands on his back and gently pushed until his feet hit the pavement and he turned around. For a second, he looked like he was about to push back. Or trample me.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem, Charlotte?" His voice was hoarse, his eyes dark. God, he was hot. I hated him so much. "You." I replied, deadpan. Then I turned back to lock the two bolts on the door and punched in the alarm code. I couldn’t help but feel smug - apparently, he knew my name. I pictured him staring at the back of my head, flustered. Couldn’t be sure though. All I knew was that when I turned around, he was still there, arms crossed over his chest, mouth set in a straight line, watching me.

"Do you always act like that at work, around people who could get you in trouble?" He had a point. He could get me in trouble. But I was too fired up, my heart racing. "Is that a threat?" "An observation." "Only around the ones I don’t like." "Cool." "Great." "Enjoy the dance party. Sounds shit."

And with that, he turned around and walked off, coat flying open in the wind. Unfortunately, it made him look cool. I ABSOLUTELY HATED HIM. I didn’t say another word, just walked off in the opposite direction - only to realize minutes later that my car was the other way. Still, I kept walking for a bit before turning back. It took a while to calm down. Only cuddling up with my cat in front of some trash TV finally did the job. But by then, I’d realized something I wasn’t sure I liked. Yeah, I thought he was a prick. And yeah, I should’ve just played it cool. That would’ve been smarter in a lot of ways. But I’d also kind of... enjoyed myself. In the most fucked up way.

Seeing that stern look, that intense way he loomed over me... yeah, I’d piss him off on purpose. Literally.

[anonymoosen]

ZIMPAI STORY PART 6: A CONFESSION OF OBSESSION 🥺👉👈

(YALL THIS IS GONNA BE THE LAST PART FJDJFDJ CUZ I HAVE TO END THIS WEIRD STORY BEFORE I BURN ANYONE ELSES BRAINCELLS AGAIN)

(AND THIS IS GONNA BE MY THING FOR ZIMDAY/IZDAY LOL)

———-

“LIEEESSS!” The alien desperately screeched out loud on the top of his lungs (or whatever aliens had). Dib raised an eyebrow in confusion, distracting him from the overwhelming sadness he was trying to hide. “I…uhhh- didn’t say anything…?”

Zimpai blinked and tried to regain his composure. He slowly took a step back and tried to escape. Dib-chan tilted his head, and his hair bone scythe hair cowlick thingy turned into a light bulb as a thought struck him. “C-could it be…”

Just as the big headed boy opened his mouth to let out his undeniably kawaii anime voice, Zim-kun began to run and covered his nonexistent ears.

“Z-Zimpai has…a…a…”

Dib-Chan’s delicate pretty voice suddenly became deep and sounded like he was a macho and buff man. “CRUSHY WUSHY LUSHY USHY BLUSHY CRUSHY ON MEEEE!11!1!1!1!11”

The yell was so loud and ear piercing that the whole ground collapsed while everything around Dib got pushed away by 999999999 kilometers.

This was so powerful that even Gaz became flabberGAZted by this and was more concerned than ever. “TAK- WHY THE ACTUAL HELL DID YOU MAKE THE ANIME BEAM DO THIS???”

Tak, despite her messy hair and being literally yeeted away by an incredibly long distance from a pathetic lover boy, was still smiling smugly and just shrugged. “I had the most tragic villain story from the most stupid defective Irken of destruction demolishing a vending machine. His stupid lover obviously has to be as insane as he is.”

Back with our main character idiots here, Dibby boi realised what he has done and sobbed, “Z-Zimpai my pookie…! I didn’t mean to hurt you like thisss…!!” (he obviously did lolll)

From 999 something kilometers whatever that number I typed earlier (oh wait I can copy and paste but oh well) away, the green space cockroach creechur growled, “GRGRGRRR YOUUU…!! YOUUUU!! WHEN YOU YOUUU!11!1!1 YOUUU MADE ME MAAADDD GRGRGRGRHDIEJDEKJ” (bro this space boi couldn’t hear dib a shmillion times even when he was 1 inch away from him but now he can-)

(wAIT I SHOULD MAKE LESS BRACKETED TEXTS SORRY-)

Instead of apologizing again, Dib got mad at Zim too because it would be too out of character if the boys didn’t fight each other here as it was still an ENEMIES to lovers arc after all.

Deeb Doob Dob Dib’s voice became all buff again as he himself became buff too, electricity surging all around him. He then ascended from the ground, T-posing and let the mysterious anime power carry him towards the alien.

The alien boi zimmediately tried to become as buff as Dibby boi did by casually grabbing a machine that was 69 420 times his size in his PAK and blasted himself with it, causing his scrawny-looking green arms to develop more and more muscles and become as buff as Dib was.

The boys just stared each other down, eyes glowing while T-posing in front of each other.

Dib-chan then broke the silence that lasted for 10 hours by saying in a small and cute voice while still in that buff state

“…Z-zim-kun I… I… l-love y-you…”

Zim then reverted back to his cutesy smol chibi shape and responded with a little “B-baka!!” even when Dib didn’t finish the sentence.

Surprised by that, the big headed boy also reverted back into his original pathetic form and giggled, “I love you….your mom!” He laughed even more and smirked. Zim was taken aback and felt his heart— whatever aliens had shatter into smithereens. Was this really how Dib felt…? Was it all just a silly little game…?

Before Zim could take get out his PAK legs to absolutely destroy and obliterate the human, Dib laughed once more and threw that one love letter to Zim, smacking his face and not the back of his bald head this time.

“Nahhh! Just kidding, and uh- happy birthday, I guess…” Dib looked away quickly as the butterflies returned in his stomach. Dang it— he forgot how cute his crush looked despite how stupid he was…

“Ehhh- birthday?? Invaders don’t NEED pathetic Urth birthdays!”

“Yeah, yeah— but today is still special, y’know? It’s the day you set your little alien foot on this planet!”

Zim tried not to smile at his beloved nemesis remembering AND writing some letter to him for this day. But then…

“WAIT! How did you know it’s today?? We met at the disgusting skool one or two days after I landed on this filthy planet!!”

Dib smiled and responded, “I’m a paranormal investigator! Of COURSE I know the exact day an alien comes here!”

“You were a creepy stalker from the start, Dib-thing… even before becoming those… yhaaan-deers…”

“You’re creepy too, y’know!! And you were so weird too! In fact- everything was so weird earlier… nothing new, I guess!” Dib chuckled.

Zim coughed and shifted his eyes away from Dib, yet getting closer beside him. “…Yeah. Very…strange…”

Dib-ch- I mean DIB noticed this and leaned closer and closer to Zim and….

HELD HIS HANDDDD!1?1!?!1?11!1! SO SCANDALOUS!! THE END-

(Just kidding :3)

…he affectionately smooched the bug boy’s cheek! This gesture was so sweet that even the usually cold Gaz let out an “awww!” along with every other bystander around them!

The gay boys finally completed their enemies to lovers arc….

…until the cartoon resets again and everyone forgot what happened !

The end uwu

—————-

KFKDFKDKDKD HELP ITS ACTUALLY OVER AHHFJDJDDJD

THIS STORY HAS BEEN… SOMETHING! LOLL IF U ACTUALLY READ THIS, OR EVEN READ ALL THE WAY FROM THE START- I JUST WANNA SAY THANK YOU.

THANK YOU FOR ALL UR SUPPORT AND STILL STICKING BY DESPITE THE SLOW UPDATES AND THE LOW QUALITY WRITING AND PHONE DOODLES!

Honestly, I’m gonna miss this story, so maybe I’m still gonna make things for it in the future like doodle comics or more writings but after the reset! Anyway… again thanks so much for reading this if u did and have the bestest day or night! Don’t let the buff boys haunt you XD

———-

FIRST

PREV

NE- OH WAIT THIS IS THE LAST LOLL FKDKDD BYEEEE!!

[magical-girl-coral]

Wyll quest rewrite attempt number 39, take one, featuring a blank tav for self insert reasons.

(spoilers for act 3)

As the party crossed Wyrm's rock, a hellish figure waited for them near the entrance to the lower city. The smell of sulfur was familiar, and yet that was where the familiarity ended. [Tav] prepared their weapon in case it's a new enemy they have to put down. The rest of them followed suite.

Karlach's eyes widen in shock when the figure finally came in full view. A yellow cambion with blue eyes. She signaled her friends to lower their weapons.

"Flo!" She yelled out. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"What? Is it that odd to visit an old friend after they've been away for so long?" Flo asked back, as if this greeting was the epitome of normalcy. "Honestly, you'd think the living world would have better manners than this."

Karlach's expression didn't move an inch. "Cut the crap, Flo. Just tell us what you're here for or fuck off."

Flo huffed in mock annoyance. "And here I thought we could at least have lunch first. Very well." She turned to face the rest of the party. "Mizora is going to kill Ulder Ravengard within the next three days. Whatever he is taken to has him sealed shut enough to keep even the hells at bay, so I'd say you better hurry up."

Wyll eyes widen in terror. "What?" He readied his rapier. "Explain yourself, devil, now!"

Flo grinned. This was obviously the reaction she was hoping for. "You heard me, loves. Mizora is going to kill the grand duke of Baldur's Gate right under everyone's noses. Quite the spectacle if you ask me. Here I thought she knew better than that."

[Tav] couldn't wrap their head around the logic of this decision. It feels so... chaotic, rather the usual lawfulness that devils exude. "But why? What does she get out of this? Wouldn't it be more useful for him to live?"

Flo threw her head back and laughed like a mad hyena. "That's the best part! She fucked up so badly that Zariel has begun to lose interest in her, so now she has to get her hands dirty for the first time in forever."

When she faced the party again, her teeth pierced her smile. "You see, Mizora was originally supposed to just destroy the cult of the dragon seven years ago under boss' orders, but after meeting little baby Wyll Ravengard, she had the brilliant idea of going against Zariel's orders and trick the poor lad into selling his soul to her to "Save" his precious home." She turned to acknowledge Wyll. "The sending stone for an eye was a nice touch though. I'll give her that much."

Wyll just stood there, completely lost to the world, his rapier slowly slipping from his hand. "You... You mean...I.. I never... I never had to..." His breathing was getting worst with every word he choked out. Lae'zel stood closer to him in case he collapsed.

Flo grinned like a shark. "Nope! Fucking none of that was needed! Mizora had just assumed that if she had the son of the duke under her claw, she could slowly influence Baldur's Gate into selling more souls for herself in Zariel's name. Unfortunately, daddy dearest didn't approve of son's new friend, and banished both of them from his beloved home. And now Mizora is trying to fix that mistake by killing Ulder to pressure little Wyll into a new contract. Would have been brilliant if she wasn't so stupid to begin with.

[Tav] was somehow even more confused then they were before. "Why didn't Mizora allow Wyll to tell Ulder how he sold his soul to save Baldur's Gate? Wouldn't have that helped them both stay?"

Crackling like a rabid dog, Flo continued. "Because Mizora herself couldn't say a word about the event. The cult came into power thanks to Zariel not noticing who was selling their soul to her, and wanted to clean up this mess she made without anyone ever knowing she had a hand in it through fucking up her paperwork. Thanks to that, Mizora couldn't speak a word of the cult to anyone, and since Wyll was her little pet, she decided he should share her suffering to avoid a little tongue slip and igniting Zariel's wrath. We were only allowed to speak of this incident a year after it was done, but of course Mizzie just had to leash her favorite a little harder than she needed to. What a beautiful wreck of a conclusion."

Wyll was fully leaning on Lae'zel by the time the story was done, too numb to the world to feel his limps around him with erratic breathing making it all worse. Karlach shielded him from her 'friend'. "That's enough, Flo. You've had your fun, now beat it before I beat you."

Flo hummed. "So be it. This will keep me entertained for days anyway. Tata for now!"

With a mocking wave of a hand, Flo returned to the hells, living only ashes and the stench of Avernus behind her.

Wyll had collapsed on the ground, Lae'zel catching him just in time. [Tav] turned their head in worry. "Shit, Wyll!"

They knelt by his side, bringing cold water to his lips. "Stay with me, alright? We have three days to find your father. We got time."

"That's not it," Wyll wheezed out, "That's not it at all. My home. I've been away for seven years. For nothing. It was going to be saved. She was going to save it. I didn't have to lose my eye. I didn't have to be alone. She took it all from me. Everything. That..That..."

"That cunt," Astarion finished for him. It was hard to tell if he did it out of sympathy, or just as a good excuse to curse someone out to the wind.

Wyll chugged the clown water and gingerly rose to his feet. "I think I need to get back to camp. Or an inn. Just, somewhere to be alone. Get my thoughts in order. Maybe throw up. I don't feel like I know anything anymore."

Shadowheart slung Wyll's arm around her shoulder. "I heard there's a tavern close by called the Elfsong. We can camp there for the evening."

The party had continued forward, with Wyll walking right in the middle of it, being protected from all sides in case another unwanted surprise pops up. [Tav] was in the front with Karlach, a few more questions on the tip of their tongue.

"Why would Flo spill all of Mizora's plans to us? Do you think they have another motivation?"

"Don't worry your little head about," Karlach answered. "Flo is only here for a good time. It's just that her good time usually involves someone else having a shit day from hell. I can see why she did it; if we fail, Wyll will be miserable from not being to save his dad. If we succeed, Mizora will be seen as a fool at best and a useless vessel at worst. Either way, Flo will have her fun."

[Tav] grimaced. "If this was the best company you could find in Avernus, I don't even want to think about the rest of it."

Karlach snorted. "Trust me, you really don't"

_____________________________________________________________

A few notes:

1). Flo's color choices was to balance out the cambion color pallets. Raphael has red skin and yellow eyes, Mizora has blue skin and red eyes, so Flo has yellow skin and blue eyes.

2). If the party find the iron throne before the the day limit is up, Mizora appears just as they enter it, finding it thanks to Wyll's stone eye. If the party misses the three day mark, Ulder is dead with his soul taken to the hells, so the usual resurrection scroll or revival wouldn't work.

3). The new contract goes like this: Ulder's soul has been claimed by the hells after he was trapped in Avernus along with the city of Elturel. Wyll's new choice is between sending his soul or his father's into enteral damnation.

4). I mostly wrote this out of annoyance when I found out Ulder dies if we go to the iron throne before meeting Mizora at act 3. It's so fucking dumb. Just kill the man before you do your dramatic entrance, you dumb bitch. You'd think her horns pierced her brains with how she thinks.

[almaqead]

"Throwing Down." From Surah Seven, Al Araf, "The Heights."

Ramadan day 9

We don't know very much about the Recitation of the Quran by Allah to Gabriel and Gabriel to the Prophet, Muhammad the Quraysh.

The only reference to it is in Al Baqarah:

During the month of Ramadan the Qur'an was sent down as a guidance to the people with Clear Signs of the true guidance and as the Criterion (between right and wrong). So those of you who live to see that month should fast it, and whoever is sick or on a journey should fast the same number of other days instead.

We know God wants us to be able to tell what is right from what is wrong as the result of a more intense period of study of the Book, and that He intends this understanding to be permanent. This means everything we are learning now has to become Islam, the Straightest Way. One cannot read the Quran and discover Allah told Muhammad "do not fight" and then fight. This is called the Crooked Path and those who disbelieve and disobey will burn in hell.

Fasting - everyone fasts during Ramadan, but why? Is it to become pure for the receipt of the Holiness of the Quran?

Transmutation into Gematria reveals what this means:

And God Said Let There Be An Expanse Between The Waters To Seperate Water From Water So God Made The Expanse The Water Under The Expanse From The Water Above It And It Was So.

The Value In Gematria Is 12776, ו‎יבזז‎ ‎ ‎"And I will loot."

The very same words that are found in the opening of the Book of Genesis. So Ramadan is indeed a sign from God to start At the Beginning. Not to retread the same old scripture looking for new meaning, but to use its Course to navigate the fastest way out of oppression and violence and poverty to a life rich in the bounty Allah promised Muhammad all believers were entitled to.

Most importantly, we now know who Allah is, why He gave Muhammad the Quran and who the world's practitioners of Islam are in the process. Our task now is to live by it. Do not listen to that shuttlecock in Iran he is an idiot. He is a walking talking rectum.

Read the Quran and discover the real voice behind the Script and let Interpol carry the wee bitch off to prison where he belongs.

7:148-151.

In the absence of Moses, his people made from their ˹golden˺ jewellery an idol of a calf that made a lowing sound. Did they not see that it could neither speak to them nor guide them to the ˹Right˺ Path? Still they took it as a god and were wrongdoers.

Later, when they were filled with remorse and realized they had gone astray, they cried, “If our Lord does not have mercy on us and forgive us, we will certainly be losers.”

When Moses returned to his people, ˹totally˺ furious and sorrowful, he said, “What an evil thing you committed in my absence! Did you want to hasten your Lord’s torment?”

Then he threw down the Tablets and grabbed his brother by the hair, dragging him closer. Aaron pleaded, “O son of my mother! The people overpowered me and were about to kill me. So do not ˹humiliate me and˺ make my enemies rejoice, nor count me among the wrongdoing people.”

Moses prayed, “My Lord! Forgive me and my brother! And admit us into Your mercy. You are the Most Merciful of the merciful.”

Commentary:

What kind of man prays to God for mercy and then cuts people into bits? What kind of Muslim country does this?

People are not jewelry, they cannot speak for God or act like Him if they do not experience the Mercy of God and govern mercifully in His Place. Just as the opening of the Torah and the inaugurating verse for Ramadan state= mercy parts the waves, it is what separates the light from the darkness, it is what starts the ball of civilization rolling.

The Values in Gematria expound upon this further:

v. 148: In the absence of Moses, his people made from their ˹golden˺ jewellery an idol of a calf. Muhammad begins his Account of the first sin of the people of Israel after they left captivity. They wanted instant gratification. This was a mistake.

The Value in Gematria is 8563, חהוג, "a circle." Muhammad said the thing could not speak, but a real prophet can:

O you who have believed, be persistently standing firm in justice, witnesses for Allah, even if it be against yourselves or parents and relatives. Whether one is rich or poor, Allah is more worthy of both. So follow not [personal] inclination, lest you not be just. And if you distort [your testimony] or refuse [to give it], then indeed Allah is ever, with what you do, Acquainted. (Qur’an 4:135)

v. 149: Later, when they were filled with remorse and realized they had gone astray, they cried. The Value in Gematria is 13162, יגאוב‎‎, yagaub= they wanted God to dote on them.

v. 150a: When Moses returned to his people, ˹totally˺ furious and sorrowful, he said, “What an evil thing you committed in my absence! Did you want to hasten your Lord’s torment?”

The Value in Gematria is 12188, יבאחח‎ ‎ , "I will be proud."

v. 150b: Then he threw down the tablets and grabbed his brother by the hair. The name Aaron means "center of cheer." Aaron was permitting a popularity contest between himself and Moses to make himself happy. When Moses grabbed Aaron's hair, he demonstrated what a liability that popularity ended up being.

Why did Moses threw the tablets down? The Value in Gematria is 10300, יג‎אֶפֶסאֶפֶס, igapesapes, "You missed! Thrirteen will be Zero, Zero will be Zero."

Proud men who want to be popular that do not understand the Law, contained in the Quran, the Torah, and the Gospels become despots like Satan Claus up above. Wise men realize you can get every ounce of power, every penny of wealth and influence just as easily by being loved rather than hated. People are willing to do whatever it takes for leaders they love. They will plot and scheme against despots who will never sleep a wink at night knowing their people seethe for revenge against them.

Without a Godly man leading a country, a company, or a temple, the rest are zero. A man who knows God, however, is a gold mine for his people:

v. 151: Moses prayed, “My Lord! Forgive me and my brother! And admit us into Your mercy. You are the Most Merciful of the merciful. The Value in Gematria is 7011, זאֶפֶסאא, zepesa, "he climbed."

Moses threw down the tablets because the people sinned before they were told they were committing a sin. The two sets of tablets represent how one is first told about the law and is expected to obey, either by doing what is expected or avoiding what is prohibited when the opportunity arises.

To mature without incurring sin, is called "the climb" by the Torah. Statesman, public servants, and clergy are expected to be climbers- persons who do not sin or need to ask for forgiveness. Now that we know for sure the Quran is an authentic prophecy dictated by a real God to a real prophet, all believers who are observing Ramadan will be able to start their climb.

Let's begin the Climb by "throwing down" an oath! Let's be like Moses and promise to put an end to any slavery left in this world.

That means by the end of Ramadan Mubarak there will be no more traces left of the Republican Party, the Mormons, Vladimir Putin, Ayatollah Khamenei, Hezbollah, Hamas, or Muhammad Bin Salman. Let us pledge to close the curtain on all tyrannies by this time.

Allāh will not impose blame upon you for what is meaningless1 in your oaths, but He will impose blame upon you for [breaking] what you intended of oaths. So its expiation2 is the feeding of ten needy people from the average of that which you feed your [own] families or clothing them or the freeing of a slave. But whoever cannot find [or afford it] - then a fast of three days [is required]. That is the expiation for oaths when you have sworn. But guard your oaths.3 Thus does Allāh make clear to you His verses [i.e., revealed law] that you may be grateful.

Everyone we set free will be grateful and so will we. We will follow the Quran literally! This is the perfect Ramadan Recipe for a happy Eid al Fitr and the beginning of Masjid.

[holylulusworld]

G & CSP (1) - Worst minions ever

Title: Worst minions ever 

Rating: Mature

Summary: You are the villain in this story. Right?

Square 15 filled for @anyfandomgoesbingo​: Arson

Square N3 filled for @allcapsbingo​: Free Space - Villain Reader

Square 5 filled for @howbadcanitbebingo​: Emoticons in fic

Pairing/Ship: Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader

Warnings: language, villain reader, mentions of crimes/arson, hurt Steve, kidnapped Steve, awful minions

Goddess & Captain Sassypants masterlist

Villain. Number one enemy. The outcast. Undefeatable. Badass.

Being the villain in someone‘s story isn’t easy. You always have to come up with an evil plan to show the world you are on top of the food chain. Or at least better than the golden boy you try to bring down.

It’s also not easy when the so-called hero ruins all of your detailed plans. One after another. There is not a day you do not come up with another evil master plan. Only for Captain Sassypants to ruin them again.

Sometimes you got the feeling Captain America chose to be your nemesis. He’s a little too cheerful whenever you have a face-off with the golden boy. Damn that man. Steve getting on your nerves Rogers always tries to talk you into becoming a hero. Or at least not to commit crimes.

Like hell. Captain Rogers may have mopped the floor with you more than once. But you will not give in. Not for him. Not for your family. Not for anything in the world.

He’s strong, you give him that.

Last time he threw you through the wall, bruising more than your ego. Your lower back and ass hurt for over a week. It sucks that villains don’t have health insurance.

You huff as you remember your last encounter with him. He tried to talk you into giving up. Steve Rogers put his hands on his belt, puffed his chest, and gave yet another boring speech about giving up on the dark side.

As if that motherfucker knows anything about you, your past, and the shit you have been through. Villains aren’t born darling; they are made. You had no choice but to turn dark.

“Boss!” you groan as one of your minions, let’s call him Eager Beaver No. 1 (you just don’t have the time to keep up with names) runs into your office. Or rather your fortress of solitude.

Take that, Superman. I just stole your favorite place. What do you want to do? Burn my ass with your eyes. 😐

“What is it? I told you not to disturb me unless the world ends, or you come up with a better plan than burning the Avengers tower down. Arson is my favorite tool to create destruction," you grin. “So, what is it?”

“We got him!” Eager Beaver No. 2 eagerly tells you, much to Eager Beaver No. 1’s dismay. “I captured Captain America!”

You choke on the air. “What?”

“We captured Captain America!”

“Don’t fuck with me,” you grunt. “If you try to be funny, you're not. I got better things to do than listen to your nonsense again, Eager Beaver No. 2. You’ll not get dinner if you lie to me again.”

“Boss, we got him,” entrance Eager Beaver No. 3. “Did the others already tell you? It’s done. Your nemesis is in our hands.”

You watch your minions look at you. Where did you find them again? On a rummage table for useless minions? You swear on all that’s holy to you, they are the worst minions ever.

“Fine. I’m listening.”

“We brought him to the dungeon,” Eager Beaver No. 3 gets his phone out to show you a picture of Steve Rogers restrained on the wall. “See, I sent it to all of your rivals too.”

“Wait-what?” you snatch the phone out of your minion’s hands. “Why is there a 💩shit emoji on Captain America’s face? No one will recognize him, you idiot.”

“Sorry, boss. But you said his hairstyle looks like shit last time,” your minion defends his creative work. “We still got him. Right?”

“How did you even get your hands on him?” you wonder aloud. It can’t be that your minions got hold of Captain America while you failed every time. “Did you use one of my weapons? Maybe the incredible stunner…”

“No. He was distracted. Captain America fought a new villain and—”

You jerk your head toward Eager Beaver No. 1. “He fought a new villain,” you growl. “How dare he! I’m the villain he must fight. Not some wannabe bitch.”

You storm toward the door, huffing as your minions follow you hot on your heels.

 “Boss, I think the villain started this. Captain America just fought back.”

“I don’t care! Captain America is my nemesis. No bitch comes to my town and steals my nemesis. They can get in line or look for someone else. Who do they think they are?”

“They call themselves Minerva or something,” Eager Beaver No. 2 points out. “She wears all gold and uh—her costume is very…nice...and sexy.”

“I don't care," you snap at your minion. “She can run around naked. Captain Sassypants is my nemesis. Period. If anyone kills him, it’s me.”

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves. This is the moment you have been waiting for for so long.

“Boss, do you want us to-“ you jerk your head toward your minion. “Uh-we are going to wait upstairs. Holler if you need us.”

“Sure. Take a day off. You did a good job.”

“Thanks…boss…” your minions run off when you unlock the door to the dungeon.

You put on your biggest grin as you enter the dungeon to watch Captain America sit on the floor. He has his long legs stretched out. He leans his back against the wall as you step toward him.

“Aw, look what the cat dragged into my house,” you crouch down to get a better look at the captain haunting your dreams. "You're hurt.”

You gape at Captain America. His left cheek is bruised, his lips are split, and his neck looks like someone attempted to strangle him. “I thought no human could hurt you like this.”

His silence is unusual as you reach out to touch his forehead. You didn’t even make him bleed during all of your encounters and now there is a cut on his forehead.

“You need to let me go. War is taking place out there. They need me. We can settle our score later,” he coughs. It almost sounds like he’s having trouble breathing properly.

“Who is fucking with our town again, Cappy?” you mutter. “Where is your shield?”

“They broke it,” he says. His voice sounds broken. It’s the first time you hear him so…hopeless. “I never thought someone would be able to do so.”

“Well, lucky you,” you snap your fingers, using your powers to free Steve off the chains holding him to the ground. You offer your hand to him to help Steve up. “I got a brand-new shield for you, Captain.”

“Why?”

When Steve takes your hand, you ask, "Why what?"

“Why are you helping me?” he asks. “You’re my nemesis.”

“I don’t,” you grin. “I will beat that bitch coming to my town to steal my nemesis into a pulp and later, we will settle our score.”

“Of course, we will,” he jumps up, taking you by surprise. “You’re all too eager to get your hands on me again, huh?”

Ah. There he is. Captain Sassypants.

“Let’s find you a new shield and fix the mess you call your face. I’ll send some of my robots to help your friends in the meantime."

“You would make such an excellent hero." You press your index finger to his lips, making him grunt as you are not in the mood for one of his speeches.

“Don’t. I’m a villain for a reason, Captain. As you roughly grip his chin, you say, "I'm neither your friend nor your ally. We will never be on the same side. I just don’t like people coming to my town to claim they are the biggest badass. That’s my job.”

He grins now. “I expect you to try to kill me on Monday, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am or you won’t make it out of this dungeon alive…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[daigyu01]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :incident gone right

synopsis: two enemies get into an incident that leads them into the emergency room. Both being trapped in the same room, they have to deal with each other 24/7.

genre: fluff, comedy, enemies to lovers

pairing: beomgyu x f!oc

disclaimer: this is my first time posting one of my dumb ideas on tumblr so please forgive me for any mistakes i make I'm a noobie 😿🙏

mini series - 1, (Too be continued ajsbsks)

Part 1.

I flinched the moment i felt the cold hard metal hit my face. i turned over to see who it was, and i was not surprised to see Yeonjun grinning like he won some stupid game.

"Go get some snacks, what's the point of Saturday movie night if there is no damn snacks in this house." He groaned and threw himself on the couch beside me.

Saturday movie night. it used to be Wednesday movie night until our parents found out we were staying up at 3 am on a school night which got us grounded for 2 weeks straight. It was something we did ever since we were 8, and we always had it no matter what.

We are a little too committed to it to be honest, especially Yeonjun. I remember this one time his turtle named Sam died back when we were 12, and this guy still came to my door and shoved us into my room to watch movies.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Isn't it your turn to buy the snacks?" I threw the keys back at him. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and pulled out his phone.

"This is why I made this." he showed me his screen. "You always say it's my turn and I've had enough so i made a calendar." Yeonjun said as he smirked.

"Oh great." I replied sarcastically and sighed.

"So, as you can see here, it is clearly your turn." He tossed the keys at me once again, sending me a flying kiss.

I huffed. "Fine whatever. You owe me dinner tomorrow."

--

Yeonjun sent me a whole list of what to get at the store. It was WAY more than just 5 items. Why the heck do i need to buy green peppers at a convenient store? Do they even sell those there?

i dialed his number on my phone once i reached a red light. The freaking audacity he has to make me buy all these things for one night when he knows I'm saving. I heard the ringing for a few seconds before he picked up.

"Jello?"

"Why the fuck am i buying green peppers at 12 am."

"I'm tryna eat healthy my lovely Lee Miso. If you could just get me one i would be eternally grateful."

I suddenly heard honking when i was rereading the list, which probably meant the light turned green and these stupid idiots behind me were impatient.

I immediately hit the gas.

"Also Miso could you buy me some protein powder that wou-"

Before I could even process what was happening, i felt something hit the side of my car which sent me flying.

i didn't know what to do so i went with my first instinct which was to scream and cry. Is this really how I'm going to die? Before graduation?

that was my last thought before my mind went blank.

--

"Ms. Lee? Are you awake?"

"Ms. Lee?"

i gazed up at the person calling me. My eyes squinted at the bright light that surrounded me. Is this heaven or-

"Ms. Lee!"

"The hell- what is it?" I replied angrily as i yawned.

"I'm so sorry, i just had to make sure you were doing well. And thankfully you are! Your partner is still asleep, he is a bit more stubborn to wake up." She laughed slightly.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Partner? I don't have a partner?"

"He was the one that crashed into you love."

"That piece of shit." i quickly removed the blankets off my body and got up to go find the guy. But as soon as I removed the blankets, i saw white stuff around me.

"Where are my legs? Where did you put them asshole?" I started panicking again and grabbed her wrist aggressively.

"Miss please calm down they are still there. They are wrapped to protect you, your legs got severely damaged."

I looked back at my body. "Hey uh, how long was i asleep for? I feel like a rock just hit my head."

"About 2 days, almost 3 ma'am." The nurse replied as she handed me some water. I took it and nodded my head. "Best sleep i have ever got that's for sure." I sighed.

A loud bang echoed through the room. I scanned around to see where it was from until i saw another nurse bringing in a bed with a patient on it.

The nurse clasped her hands. "Perfect timing! This is your partner for the next week." She smiled at me like it was the greatest news ever.

"I want my own room please."

"No can do, everything is full. It's only a week, don't worry. I'm kathy by the way." She smiled before heading out with the other nurse.

The guy they brought in was still asleep. He didn't seem too beat up from the crash, just minor scratches along his jawline. I stared at him a bit, he was oddly good looking. I shook my head and went back into my dream world, hoping to fall asleep again.

--

I'm this close to raging out of this room and flinging myself out the window. I have never been so damn bored in my whole existence.

I've had enough. The nurses weren't around, so i took this as the perfect opportunity to stroll around the room at least. My feet touched the cold tile making me shriek, but i got used to it and finally started to walk.

"Miso, what are you doing? Go back to bed please."

I jumped when i heard the voice. No one was in sight when i turned to see where the voice came from. "Who's there? Come out you foul!" I grabbed the knife beside me.

"I'm literally right here." The man from the bed said. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing a bit.

"Oh- it's you. How do you know my name?" I questioned hesitantly.

"Who doesn't? Everyone at school knows you." He remarked slightly scoffing.

"School?"

"Yes Miso. The building where you learn about crap." He pushed his hair to the side. I held my gaze on him a bit. He looked really familiar for some reason.

"Do you go to the same school as me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Idiot, of course i do that's how I know you."

I rolled my eyes in reponse. "Do we have any classes together?"

"Woahhh what's with the interrogation? Calm down baby girl i just woke up from a beauty sleep." He stretched his arms out.

it finally clicked in my mind who he was. "I know who you are. Choi Beomgyu right? The one always sitting with Taehyun at lunch."

"Yep that's me, the one and only." Beomgyu beamed a stupid smile.

"The Choi Beomgyu. The one that stole my favorite book." I scoffed.

"That was back in 1st grade Miso. I even asked for you forgiveness and gave it back to you."

"Still." I sneered. "Who made you think you could steal something precious like that?"

Beomgyu groaned in annoyance. "i was 6 years old."

"You shattered my heart that day."

"What a cry baby." He side eyed.

"i was 6!"

"Age is just a number you know." He got up and walked into another room that i could only assume was the bathroom.

"Hey wait! I'm not done talking to you get back here!" I ran towards him. before I could reach him he shuts the door in my face.

"Annoying ass girl." I heard him mutter.

"Says the one that talks only about IU all the damn time." i snorted.

"IU is amazing don't even fight me. You're just jealous i'm not simping over you."

"Narcissistic much? You would be a lot handsomer if you had a better personality you know." I sticked my tongue out even though he wouldn't see it.

"You would be a lot prettier if you didn't talk all the time." He opened the door and patted my head.

I can already tell this is going to be a LONG week.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

The Enemy of My Enemy is ALSO My Enemy, Part 1

Or just 'Enemy of my Enemy' because that's long as hell

Summary:

Jason was fine spending his afterlife as a glorified office worker. He would help keep track of the souls that entered and exited the Underworld and, really, it was a good way to pass the seventeen years he would have to wait to be revived.

Right up until a particular Miraculous Cure started making his job a million times harder for him.

First (you are here!)<Masterlist>Next

When Jason Todd opened his eyes, he didn’t really know what he was expecting.

An office building was definitely not it, though.

He squinted to shield his eyes against the clinically bright lights that were affronting his vision – it wasn’t brighter than the explosion had been, but forgive him for being a little sensitive – and raised his eyebrows at the ten or so people rushing around the room.

Not that this kind of intensity was all that uncommon for offices, of course. If everyone wasn’t five seconds and/or an email away from having a breakdown, is it really a successful work environment?

No, the only truly weird thing was that each and every one of the people there had wings. Bird wings, a few insects, a set that seemed to be made of pure light…

His attention was caught when he heard a loud squawking noise.

A man with hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed since he was born and a black mask covering the bottom half of his face rushed over, the stack of papers in his hands teetering dangerously. The wings pressed close to his back looked to be molting, which was probably a good thing considering they were covered in so much dried blood that Jason couldn’t even tell what the actual color was supposed to be.

“You must be the new hire.”

“Um –?”

“Great, handle these for me? I have to do something.”

“Uh –!”

He dumped the stack of papers he was holding into his hands and then zoomed away in a blur of color.

Damn it. He had taken the papers without thinking and now he was cursed with work that he didn’t even close to understand. He stared at the forms in front of his face, struggling to make sense of all of the strange combinations of numbers and letters at the top of the first page. Had the printer gone insane or did they have so many different types of forms that they had to resort to naming them all pure gibberish to distinguish them? Did he even want to know? Probably not.

“Jason Todd?”

The papers in his arms became some particularly boring-looking confetti as Jason, startled and maybe a little wary about the person that had somehow managed to sneak up on him, threw them in the air.

The woman in front of him smiled, though it might have been a stretch to call the sligh quirk of her lips a “smile”. Her neon green eyes, fixed on Jason, reflected the light strangely.

“That’s me…” he said carefully.

“I’d hope so!” She said, her tone bright and cheery even as her expression remained rather somber. “Otherwise we’d have quite the problem on our hands.”

Jason looked down at the papers scattered across the floor. “Er… I think you might already have a problem.”

There was a flicker of black out of the corner of his eyes and a strong gust of wind that made him grimace and look away… but, when he managed to look again, the papers were neatly piled once again. The woman set the pile back in Jason’s hands.

“Come, I can explain to you what is going on on the way.”

Jason hesitated just for a moment, but he figured that it would probably be a good idea to listen to the person who seemed most intent on explaining things to him.

He rested his chin on top of the stack of papers to make sure they didn’t fall as he carefully rose.

But his shirt caught on the chair he had been sitting in.

He frowned and turned to fix the snag, only to find that his clothes were fine and the thing that had managed to lodge itself in the chair was actually one of the giant bat wings protruding from his back.

“Okaaaaay, that’s new,” he commented, a very well-disguised attempt to hide the nerves clawing up his throat. Ignore the way his voice squeaked a little, he was a great actor.

Thankfully, the woman seemed perfectly willing to let him have a breakdown right in front of her.

He wasn’t even completely sure why he was so stressed. Everyone else he had seen so far seemed to have wings – though he had no clue what the lady in front of him’s wings looked like yet – so it made sense that he would have them, too… but they were wings. On him!

He ran a finger along the leathery wings and bit back a grimace as shivers ran down his spine. Jason’s hand jerked back as if he had been burned.

Yep. That confirmed it. They were real.

Tears welled in his eyes.

He was dead. He had been sold out by his own mother.

And, maybe, he felt a little guilty seeing that they were bat wings. Seriously, what kind of karmic punishment was that? He went searching all over the world for his family, only to get himself killed thanks to his biological mother… and now, here he was. He was a bat. Bruce had been his family all along. And Bruce would never know that he had come to this realization.

Karmic punishment… damn. He had been hoping he had done enough to not end up in Hell, but apparently not.

He blinked rapidly to keep himself from crying – he was not going to burst into tears in the middle of a crowded office building, thank you very much, crying on company time is practically illegal – and forced himself up and out of the chair.

The woman hesitated, lifting a hand as if she was going to do something, but then she stopped herself. She started leading him through the complex.

“So, um, am I in…” Jason looked around, at the harried office workers with strange appendages sprouting from their backs, down to his own crisp business suit and the wings literally batting against anything he dared to walk within three feet of, and then his gaze found its way back to the woman in white. He lowered his voice slightly to finish his thought: “Hell?”

She didn’t seem offended, thankfully. Her eyes glimmered with something akin to amusement. “This is Lazarus Holdings.”

“Cool. So, Hell is an office building. Guess that makes sense. Bureaucracies are hell.”

“It’s not Hell…” She sighed, a long, slow sound, before turning to look at him. “Think of it as a kind of ‘limbo’, you’re familiar with that concept, yes?”

He nodded.

“Everyone here will, one day, come back to life… but, in the meantime, sending us ‘up’ or ‘down’ would be a waste of materials and manpower. So, whenever someone is marked to come back at some point, we bring them here and they join our workforce.”

He cringed, barely refraining himself from pointing out that this was exactly what Hell would be like for him. If this was Hell, then it would probably be best to just play along… right?

He had no clue. Which makes sense, considering he had never been to Hell before. Pardon any bad etiquette.

She led him to a tiny cubicle. “This is where you’ll be staying for the next… oh… seventeen years, I think?”

“Seventeen years?” Jason said.

His voice squeaked at a frequency that only greater wax moths could hear – which was unfortunate for the moth person a few cubicles away – but cut him some slack. He was going to be dead for, apparently, seventeen years. And, sure, he had previously been under the assumption that he was going to be dead forever, but somehow this was worse. Knowing that he would, someday, be fine meant that he had something to look forward to, and time would go so much slower that way.

(And what if his family forgot about him? Seventeen years was a long time for humans, they would all be so different by the end of it. Would they even be his family? Would they even remember him?)

The woman’s eyes gleamed. “Yes, seventeen years… for us, anyways. Time moves slower for people like us, it would be very difficult to process paperwork if there were two people dying a second.”

He guessed that made sense…

“How much slower?” He questioned hesitantly.

“It seems to be different for everyone.”

He grimaced. An unknown… Bruce had trained him to be hesitant about those, but was there really anything he could do?

“Which you should probably start working before your work starts piling up,” she hinted.

Jason looked back over at his desk and cursed loudly when he realized that, in the few moments he had looked away, five new papers had appeared.

~

Most people came and went rather quickly. It was rare to see someone last even a full year, let alone as long as Jason.

No, the only people that seemed just as trapped in this not-Hell were the bloodied man and the woman he had met on the first day.

The man was named Bucky. He had a robotic arm, so Jason thought he was pretty cool, even if he didn’t talk much. It wasn’t like older men that didn’t talk were all that new for Jason, anyways.

The woman said her name was Melisande. She was… interesting. She certainly took her work seriously, which wasn’t surprising considering she seemed to be the person in charge, but she also seemed absent. Her eyes roamed constantly, as if she was waiting for something to happen. Her shoulders would tense whenever she saw someone appear in the chair, but it never seemed to be who she was hoping for.

Their desks were all right next to each other in the center of the room. Jason had suggested that they spread out, once, so the temps wouldn’t have to walk as far when they needed help, but Bucky had simply shaken his head.

And, eventually, he got it. There was something nice, comforting, about being around Melisande and Bucky. He hardly knew either of them, and they hardly knew him, because talking about the time before they had died was painful… but at least when he was next to them he didn’t notice just how many people were passing them by. Just how often they were skipped over for their ‘second chance’.

No, it was better for him to not think of that. All of the paperwork was already driving him insane, he didn’t need to add any more undue stress, thanks.

~

One day, everything changed.

It had started off relatively normal.

Jason barely even blinked when a bell chimed, not even bothering to look up from where he was distracting Bucky during his usual break time. A hatch in the ceiling opened up and a person dropped out of it, right into the very same chair that Jason had woken up in. The girl looked to be no older than ten or so, and the ladybug wings on her back were dripping with water.

Melisande sighed and grabbed a sheet of paper when it dropped out of thin air. Brilliant green eyes scanned over it and then she tossed it to Bucky, who caught it with ease.

“Seems like this soul won’t even be here for half an hour, it might not be worth it to wake her up. Could you take her file –?” she started to say.

But then the bell rang again.

A man dropped into the room, a set of ladybug wings to match the young girl’s adorning his back.

Jason was the one to catch the file this time, the green tab that stuck out to mark it as belonging to a person who would be brought back was uncomfortably hot against his skin, but he didn’t tear his eyes away from the two people laying in crumpled heaps by the chair.

That was… odd. But, maybe, they were related or something? Or involved in the same accident –?

And then the bell went off again.

And again.

And again.

Soon, it was all that they could hear. Person after person tumbled out of the sky, files rained down on them faster than anyone could handle despite the speed advantages given to them by the weird time-space shenanigans. The ladybug wings on all of their backs glimmered in the clinical lighting, even as they were crumpled by the many bodies starting to pile by the chair.

Chair legs scraped against tiled floors as people jumped to their feet, alarm written across their faces and shouts of surprise and horror escaping their lips. Eye after eye turned to the three people in the middle of the room, searching for guidance, begging for an explanation…

An explanation that none of them could give.

The three professionals looked at each other, the papers assaulting them doing nothing to help the fear prickling at their skin.

And then they scattered. Bucky dropped back down into his chair and grabbed the nearest stack of files, the pen in his hand starting to blur as he struggled to fill out all of the forms. Melisande clapped her hand to get everyone’s attention and then forced them all to get back to work. Jason darted back to his desk, the bat wings on his back unfurling in order to get there even quicker.

The hatch… it wasn’t even closing anymore, there were too many bodies spilling out of it.

Jason ducked his head behind the walls of his cubicle in an attempt to keep himself from seeing it, but it didn’t stop the almost deafening ringing from meeting his ears.

At least he had the work to serve as a kind of distraction.

Unfortunate that there was so much of it, though.

You see, they had a system. When someone was slated to come back to life, they would help file for the deaths of every soul – something that was made easy by the amount of workers and the strange way time moved for them. And, when they were finally allowed to leave, their stacks would be taken by someone else and they would be left only with their own paperwork. Revival paperwork was the most lengthy work of all, but no one ever complained because, the moment they filled out the last box, they would disappear in a flash of (usually green, but sometimes white) light.

It was a good system. People often insisted that they do their own paperwork anyways in order to prevent any possible mistakes, so there was often very little resistance.

… but, in cases like this, where the people were set to come back within an hour, they often left them alone and delegated the work to someone else. It wasn’t worth all of the training required if they were only going to be there for a few moments.

They were regretting this system now, though. Because the paperwork was piling up and the bodies were starting to roll across the floor for space, a hand came to rest by his foot, and they just kept coming –.

The bell stopped ringing.

Leaving the seven workers standing in a metaphorical flood of bodies.

Water, tainted red with blood, crept its way across the floor.

Jason silently thanked God for making him die young because his feet didn’t touch the ground when he was sitting in his chair and therefore he didn’t have to deal with wet socks.

Because thanking Him for that was much easier than facing the reality of the situation. Of taking in the sheer number of people that had died.

The silence afterward was thick enough to feel like an entire person, looming over all of them, so uncomfortably real that it must have gotten a couple of paper cuts on the millions of files determined to pile high on their desks.

Jason took a shaky breath in. They didn’t have to breathe, but doing so calmed him down just slightly.

And then he took a pen to paper once again.

Flashes of red light were what they had the pleasure of dealing with as they slowly made their way through the slog of paperwork. It was pretty, and they had never had red light before, but it wasn’t like they could enjoy it. It was like being in the office on the Fourth of July, but with some additional resentment towards the ‘fireworks’ because they were such a pain to get.

But, eventually, they managed to catch up. Jason’s hand was cramped from writing. He wasn’t even sure how that had happened, considering he was dead and his bodily functions were unnecessary... and yet.

At least it was over with.

… the bell started ringing again.

“God damn it.”

~

It was completely random. There had been a blissful half a year where there was absolutely nothing and they had started to dare to believe that it was over. But this was quickly followed by two different attacks in a day.

And, because it was random, it was completely impossible to predict and it took entirely too long to notice what was going on.

Oftentimes they would accept a few people into their ranks before they realized what was happening. Which meant even more paperwork as they had to correct files that had already been completed.

Jason grit his teeth as another flash of red light went off somewhere to his left. He swore he could see the red behind his eyes every time he blinked. His hand had not known peace in what felt like eons. He wished for the sweet release of death – an actual one this time. Every time the bell started ringing he felt years drain off of his life… by adding so much time to his limbo.

He wanted nothing more than to go up to the land of the living and wring the neck of whoever kept bringing people back to life.

~

That’s.

Fucking.

It.

Jason didn’t even care about asking Melisande, nor about alerting Bucky. He simply dumped his things onto Bucky’s desk while he was on a water break and then booked it towards the hatch.

It was a tight fit. But he was Robin. And he was going to fix this fucking issue one way or another.

So, he flew up into the hatch with one quick burst, caught himself on the walls despite the way it burned, and started climbing up.

It was difficult. Bodies occasionally came crashing down towards him, forcing him to dodge from side to side. Every part of him ached from straining himself after years of sitting behind a desk. The sides of the hatch were hot to the touch, daring him to give in and let go, to go back to the safety of Lazarus Holdings, and he imagined that this was what Hellfire felt like…

But, slowly but surely, the light at the end of the hatch began to get bigger.

And he was able to pull himself out.

He found himself in a field. A butterfly fluttered by in slow motion, creeping along in front of him as tired eyes took in every beat of its white wings. The grass tickled skin that had been burned and rubbed raw while he was climbing, soothing and aching at the same time. White flowers – chamomile – dotted the area around him in a perfect circle. He could smell sage wafting to him from somewhere.

It was pretty.

He crashed face-first into the grass.

[totiredtowrite]

Wolf In Sheeps Clothing

Warnings - Cursing because angry boy, reader being a cold mf, reader's clothes are described (but kind of vaguely so dw)

Note: I feel like I can hear the gif for some reason :D? Kind of self indulgent so reader is shorter than kyotani. Poor mad dog, always being put in his place by pretty boys. I'll have you know that I consult the wiki everytime I write something for character details by the way. (bragging shamelessly). Reader is also a second year and the student council president because this is fiction and I'm not sure if you have to be a third year hehe

this turned out longer than I thought it would, really popped off with this one

Male Reader

Kyotani Kentarou has a new enemy.

Whether or not you knew he though of you as an enemy didn't matter to him.

Suprisingly, it doesn't happen as often as some might think. His awful attitude and uncooperative nature ensures that he makes more enemies than friends, but most people are too afraid to approach him in order to become one of the two.

His new enemy?

You. (L/n) (y/n), Student Council President.

Kyotani never really though much of you. Not when you campaigned for the spot, (despite being in the second year), and not when you got the position. He's seen you, sure, you made that whole speech when you got the part and you oversaw detention sometimes.

Kyotani, (surprisingly), didn't get detention much. On the one time you oversaw the detention class when he was supposed to be there, he decided not to go.

So, overall, he hardly saw you at all. You were nothing but a passing thought in his mind when he heard people talking about you. He never expected to talk to you, much less consider you his worst enemy.

~~~

It really was a normal day for Kyotani. He woke up, took a shower, ate on his way to school, and slipped into class with his usual "fuck with me and you die" look on.

Practice was cancelled that day as the coach was out sick, so he didn't really have anything to do. Everything was all normal for him, right up until the end of the day. Kyotani was stalking through the hallways, the other second years moving out of his way and giving hushed whispers to their friends as they got ready to leave.

He was used to that, and even liked the feeling it gave him, knowing that these people were actually afraid of him. He was close to his locker when it happened.

He ran right into you, almost knocking you back. He glowered down at you, an angry spark in his eye that would have any other student running far away. You however, just stepped back to be clear of his general bubble, and looked up at him with a frown.

Truth be told, he had never really seen you up close. True he'd overheard some of his classmates talking about how 'intimidating' and 'handsome' you were, but Kentarou didn't expect to actually feel it coming off of you. He didn't expect to point out how attractive you were right off the bat.

The hard glisten in your eye faded as you scanned his face. You know this guy. Your expression changed from 'stone cold dictator' to 'unbothered student council president.'

Somehow feeling the tension, most of the students cleared out before either of you said a word.

"Kyotani Kentarou," you said, "Number 16 on our schools volleyball team. Infamous for your out of control aggression and prowess in your sport." You smirked at him quickly, straightening your blazer and standing up straight.

"The hell," he lifted his head to look down his nose at you, "why do you know me?"

You shrug. "I keep tabs on all the students I think are troublesome. Or interesting." He watched as you casually turned to your bag and pulled out a large binder. "You're on the first page, marked in red." you had a somewhat mocking tone in your voice, that coy smirk returning.

Kyotani growled, the noise sounding surprisingly like an animal. You were much more cocky up close. Cocky and aggravating. He moved closer to you so that your chests were almost touching while you put the binder away, and looked straight down at your face. "I can be much more troublesome," he said lowly.

You barked out a laugh. "Careful there Mad Dog." You advanced, causing Kyotani to step back. "Or I might just think you're threatening me," you continued to move forward. Kyotani took more steps back. The only way he could describe the feeling was like he was being herded like a sheep.

Another animalistic growl left his throat when his back hit the lockers. By now everyone had left, leaving just the two of you. "You aren't leaving a very good first impression on your president," you say dangerously, almost mocking your own title.

"Why do I need to leave a good impression on you," he muttered out. You didn't say anything and instead lifted your arm above his shoulder to slam it by his head. He recognized this feeling. Yet somehow, it felt all different.

Not once had the rumors spoken about the affect you had on people. You scanned his face again, those intimidating (e/c) eyes holding him steady in place. His breath hitched in his throat softly when you pulled your hand back to straighten his tie. "You don't," you said referring to his earlier question, eyes focused on his tie. "And you haven't."

You pulled away from him and stepped back, patting him on the shoulder before turning on your heel to head towards the doors. You turned your head just as you were about to leave, the blue grey light from the cloudy sky making you seem more threatening. "Take care, Mad Dog." You left the school building, leaving Kentarou breathing heavily and on guard at the lockers.

~~~

He really didn't expect that from you.

He had had a similar feeling, when Yahaba threw him into a wall and scolded him during the spring preliminary game against Karasuno. Similar, but not quite the same. It felt like you had him trapped. He still had your words replaying on repeat in his mind.

Those rumors he heard about you didn't do you any justice. He never heard anything about how easily you could make people feel... things. For once, he felt like he was the one being hunted. And oh boy did he not like that. All those times he'd seen you, he thought you looked like a regular goody two shoes who would report even the smallest wrongdoing to the teachers. He didn't expect a calculated, threatening boy who had a binder of 'troublemakers' and a heavy presence.

He didn't sleep more than 2 hours that night.

Maybe it was your eyes that were etched into his mind. Maybe it was your smooth voice, that look that made it seem like there was so much more under your surface.

So naturally he came to the conclusion that you were his rival.

He managed to avoid you all till the end of the week, Sunday rolling around like a saving grace. He didn't see you once for the rest of the week, but it still felt like you were watching him with those calculated eyes of yours. His shoulder still felt all weird and tingly from where you had touched him.

The weekend felt like an asylum to him, a feeling of safety and control returning to him when his older sister sent him out to go pick up some things from the store.

Kyotani had decided to cut through the park on his way back, but now he was quickly regretting his decision. It's not like he was afraid of you, he just thought that avoiding you would be the best option.

The last place he expected you to be was sitting in the park, staring out at the little man-made pond with a few birds at your feet. You had an overcoat on to compensate for the slightly chilly weather, a sweater visible underneath it. Your shoes were tapping the ground rhythmically.

You looked much less intimidating out of uniform. You had a neutral, content look on your face, cheek squished against your palm with your elbow resting on your knee. It was almost cute, he thought, if that was the right word for it.

"Are you just going to stand there forever," you turned your face towards him and regarded him with lidded eyes. "You can sit down you know."

He jumped, standing still for a second before slowly moving towards you. His guard up like a wall as memories of your last interaction replayed through his mind. His breath quickened ever so slightly, and his ears turned pink.

He slid into place on the bench next to you. You turned towards him again and smiled. He went bright red.

It was an actual smile. Not that cocky smirk, but a soft clad cute smile. You focused your attention back on to the pond.

"You live around here," Kyotani inquired gruffly.

You nodded. "I don't go out much. Usually cooped up in my room working on god knows what." You leaned back, draping your arms gracefully across the back of the bench. "Sorry about our little encounter, by the way. I must have come off way scary, right?" You gave him that soft smile again.

He looked away and hid his cheeks with his hand. "Like I'd be afraid of you," he muttered.

You hummed softly. A thought struck him. He regained his composure before speaking again. "You must have known that I live around here, right?"

You nodded wordlessly. "It was in your file."

Kyotani decided not to comment on how creepy that was, and instead muttered out a small "oh."

Neither of you said a word for a few moments.

"We really got off on the wrong foot, huh?" You turned your whole body towards him, watching his movements like a cat.

He just grunted.

You laughed a little bit, and extended your hand. "Why don't we start over. I'm (l/n) (y/n)."

Kyotani eyed your hand suspiciously before taking it. The tingly feeling returned, but this time it felt stronger as both your hands were bare. Your slightly smaller hand gripped his firmly, the slight size difference making Kyotani blush a bit.

You really weren't what he thought, were you? Even so, you were still his enemy. His cute, scary, calculated, calm enemy.

He doesn't even know what hit him.

[soulmate-game]

Not related to the other two Bio!mom Harley AUs that I did. Just... similar. I wrote this instead of sleeping, as per the usual.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I need your help.”

No accent, no threats of violence, no beating around the bush (figurative or otherwise). No fighting or unconscious bodies.

Just Harley Quinn with her hair down, no makeup, and completely serious, in the center of the Bat Cave. Even though her usual exaggerated Brooklynn accent (circa 1950s) had become a pretty inseparable part of her personality over the years, every now and then she forcibly stuffed it down and used her mostly unaccented voice. The one reminiscent of days with less colors on her face, a high bun, and a pristine white lab coat.

Every single one of the Bats and Birds present, fresh from an interrupted patrol thanks to her, could count the number of times they had seen Harley like this on one hand. Bruce would have the most recollections, but everyone else would have plenty of fingers left on said hand. So they all knew, especially when Bruce willingly pulled down his cowl so he could look Harley in the eye, that this was the start of something they were not likely to forget. And maybe their chances of survival were slim too.

“Harley,” Bruce’s voice was still gruff, seeing as he was still mostly Batman at the moment, but his eyes were soft. “Maybe you should tell us what you need help with first. And sit down. You look exhausted.”

Sure enough, there were dark circles under Harley’s eyes. She let Bruce-man lead her over to one of their debriefing tables and sit her down. She let out a huge sigh, her fingers tangling in her loose blond locks.

“I have a confession, and it isn’t gonna leave this cave, capiche?” The slight return of her accent relieved a little of the tension, but not much. Taking this as their cue, the rest of the bats spread out into their usual seats at the table. Bruce stayed near Harley, keeping a hand on her shoulder in silent support. Harley didn’t continue talking until he gave her a solemn nod in agreement. She gulped— an action that immediately returned the tension.

“... fifteen years ago, back when I was still with Joker, I disappeared off the Gotham scene for a few months. I’m sure a few of you remember,” she looked up, and a couple of the older vigilantes nodded. Really, Jason has still been Robin back then. But the memory stuck out in his head now that he was thinking about it.

“Yeah, you were breaking away from him a little bit, which was weird at the time,” Red Hood mused aloud, arms crossed. “I think you helped us out a couple times and did some of your first team ups with Ivy before you vanished. Then a few months go by and you were back in action with Joker, so we mostly ignored it as you just being you.”

Harley nodded. “Ah, my Ivy’s a lifesaver, even back then. She helped cover up the timeline by keeping me in action for longer than I should’a been without putting me at too much risk.”

“Timeline…” Red Robin spoke up, eyes huge even behind his mask. “You don’t mean—“

“Harley,” Bruce breathed, having also caught on. “You were pregnant?”

The air went still. Harley sniffed, eyes watering even as she smiled.

“Oh yeah. Shouldn’t have been possible, ya know? Me ‘n Joker being dumped in that damn acid should have made us both more sterile than an operatin’ room. But I knew I couldn’t raise a kid, so after she was born—“

“You kept her?” Damian interrupted, earning a gentle cuff over the head from Dick. Harley just snorted.

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, I thought about abortion. But the baby didn’t do nothin’ wrong, and I was still in love with Joker back then so I was ecstatic that I was able to make something new with part ‘a him in it. Still, I knew a baby didn’t deserve to be raised in Gotham. Especially not my baby, not with my enemies and history. Not with who her father was. I knew he’d never want her, never let me keep her. So I spent the last five months of my pregnancy lookin’ around for the best possible family to take her in. And I found them in Paris, France. A sweet couple, both of them bakers. Sabine, she’s both adorably sweet and super kickass. Comes from a Chinese family that is crazy about teachin’ their women martial arts. But nothing shady about it, I triple checked. Just bonding through kicking people in the face. Which is perfect, I wanted my baby to know how to defend herself. I knew she’d need those skills eventually. And Tom, that’s Sabine’s wife, he’s a gentle giant. Same size as Bane, but as harmless as a puppy and makes the best croissants ever. Seriously, the best.”

“Harley,” Bruce gently prodded, but there was a tiny grin on his face. Seeing her behaving so… so normally, so proud and reminiscent, was a rare treat. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of how far the woman had come. How she had freed herself and become a better person, mostly on her own.

“Right, right. The point,” Harley took a breath, rubbing her forehead. “I came clean to Tom and Sabine, but apparently they knew who I was the whole time. They just didn’t care— did I mention they are perfect? Anyway, once I explained everything, they agreed immediately to adopting my baby. They’d been wanting kids, but it would’a been too risky for Sabine’s health. That’s how I found them anyway, they were in the market to adopt. We named her Marinette. She took Tom and Sabine’s last names, hyphenated. We decided Quinn would be her middle name. And after that, I came back to Gotham and told myself that she was in good hands and I needed to forget about her. Cuz I was no good for her. I knew that. I went back to my old tricks. And then…” Harley chuckled, but it was self-depreciating.

“Then a few years passed, and I started breaking away from Joker for real. Then we broke up, I blew up Ace Chemicals while you guys were outta town doing Justice League and Young Justice shit. I started dating Ivy. And—“ she smiled softly at the table, clearly seeing something the rest of them couldn’t. “Then Ivy convinced me to go see her. Visit my baby, see how she’s been. And I did. Marinette was seven years old, but damn it to hell she was gorgeous. And say whatever you want about me and Joker— most of it will even be true— but neither of us are stupid. And she inherited all of our intelligence. All of it. She got my blue eyes. But she got his hair, which meant Sabine teased me relentlessly about ‘are you sure she isn’t that Wayne’s kid?’ And don’t make that face Bruce, you’d be lucky to have a kid half as beautiful as my Mari-pie. No offense, Damian. Anyway. Anyway, this is the important part. Or part of it.

“She sat there and listened to everything I had to say. Everything. A little seven year old, who could barely understand English at the time, and she listened without interrupting once. She never threw a fit, she wasn’t angry or confused. I told her about the things I’d done in the past— well, G rated versions— and she didn’t care. She called me Momma Harley right away, said she wanted to meet Aunt Ivy sometime soon, and started telling me everything about her that I’d missed. From that day on, she became my sunshine. The light of my life, and I still call her at least once a week every week. When I disappear for a few days out of the city? I’m visiting her—“

“You’re banned from international travel, Harley,” Dick scolded, but he sounded way too amused for it to work. He knew she had her ways, anyway. Nobody could actually stop Harley damn Quinn from doing whatever she wanted.

“—Ugh, she tells me the same thing every time! Disappointed glare and everything. I don’t know how I gave birth to such a goodie goodie, but somehow I did. Not important though! The important thing is, I’m always the first to hear when something new happens in her life. And we had decided that she wouldn’t visit me in Gotham until she was at least eighteen, but apparently she disobeyed me— which I should have expected honestly— and entered you guys’ WE international scholastic competition.”

“Oh no,” Bruce pinched the bridge of her nose. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The contest winner?” He finally pulled out a chair and sat down. “The winner gets an all-expense paid trip to Gotham for them and their whole class.”

“Exactly!” Harley threw up her hands. “Mari told me last week, and I’ve been trying to talk her out of coming ever since. But she’s inherited both of our stubbornness too, and she isn’t budgin’ a bit. ‘Momma Harley, I wanna see you and Auntie Ivy though!’ And ‘Momma, Gotham’s nothing I can’t handle,’ or my favorite, ‘Maybe you’ll finally get to see me dropkick someone three times my size then, and I’ll prove it.’”

“So that’s what you meant by you need our help,” Tim said as he leaned forward over the table. “Joker just broke out of Arkham yesterday. You want us to protect her.”

“I’d prefer if one of you was with her outside of the mask too, as often as possible,” Harley confirmed. “I can’t stop her from coming here anymore, but I also don’t trust Joker for a second. As soon as he sees her, I’m afraid he’ll make the connection.”

“She looks like him?” Damian asked, scrunching up his nose at the ugly mental image of Joker as a teenage girl. Harley shook her head, solemn.

“She looks like a dark-haired mini-me,” she corrected. “She even keeps her hair in pigtails as her way of showing support for me. And I know Marinette can kick ass, Sabine’s trained her well. But Marinette inherited more than I’d like from me,” Harley ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t notice it until she was thirteen. She got a crush on a classmate, and it was almost like watching videos of me back during the early days of— well, of Harley Quinn. Just without the crime and insanity. She didn’t even realize that she was almost stalking the poor kid until I pointed it out, and luckily I was able to put my doctorate to good use and we nipped that right in the bud ASAP. She never meant it that way, anyway. As soon as I explained things to her, she was horrified and immediately asked me to help her learn how to have a healthy relationship. That was a fun discussion,” Harley grimaced. “But she still gets attached to people really, really easily. Once she grew out of her crush on that boy, she adopted him as her unofficial brother. She already calls Selina “Auntie,” even though I’ve barely mentioned her to Marinette. She gets attached fast, and deeply. And I’m afraid that even after all the warning I’ve done, all the stories I’ve told her—“

“You’re afraid she’ll get attached to Joker just like you did,” Bruce finished for her, closing his eyes. “Because she knows he’s her father.”

“Yes,” Tears were slowly dripping down her face already, her hands curled into fists so tightly that her knuckles were paper white. “You know how he is. If he finds out she’s his biological daughter, he’ll immediately try to take advantage of that. And he’s far too good with his words for people like me and Mari. I’m worried outta my mind. Please. Help keep my baby safe from him.”

“We will,” Jason no longer had his helmet on, or the domino mask that he usually wore underneath it. All of them knew masks were merely formality with Harley nowadays. And he needed to look her directly in the eye so she could see how serious he was. “I can sign up as a bodyguard for the class. It won’t be weird, seeing as they’re tourists and this is Gotham. They also have several rich kids in their group if I remember right.”

Bruce nodded, agreeing with Jason. “That’s a good idea. I can lead the class on their tours of WE personally. That’ll serve the purpose of keeping an eye on her and shutting up the investors that keep begging me to make more public appearances for the sake of the company. Marinette’s name is already released to the news as the winner of the contest, so we can’t keep her out of the spotlight long. Tim, you’ll have to keep an eye on any and all pictures of the class. Try to erase or doctor the images with her in it well enough that connections between her and Harley can’t be easily made. Dick, you and Damian will be in charge of keeping an eye out for any activity from Joker. The slightest hint, and you notify all of us. We’ll decide on a case-by-case basis who is necessary to stick with the class and who goes after the clown.”

“She’s gonna sneak out of her hotel to stay with me and Ivy,” Harley admitted, bringing the (now slightly judgemental) attention back to her. She raised her hands up in surrender. “She didn’t tell me that, and I didn’t approve or suggest it! I just know my baby too well to not realize that that’s her plan. Could ya provide an escort?”

Bruce sighed. “This is gonna be an eventful month.”

[recklessmark]

mine

—when the bodyguard your dad hired is your long lost rival.

Pairings: bodyguard Mark x mob-boss Reader

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: unprotected sex (be safe!), dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex, spanking, slut shamming, orgasm denial, mark is possessive but cute at the end.

The sounds of your heels clicking against the ground filled up the silent patio. You stormed into your house after receiving a text from your dad, basically demonstrated that he had sent you a new bodyguard since your job had been getting more intense lately. This should be the umpteenth guard that your dad hired, how are they supposed to protect you when every time you get into trouble, they can’t even take care of themselves.

You locked the door, kicking your shoes off before walking inside. Noticing a figure of a man sitting on the couch, you frowned. One hand holding the gun holster, the other finding the light switch. But they immediately fell onto your mouth when the man in question himself turned around due to the sudden light in the room. Your eyes went widen, still not believed in what you saw. He stood up, a coy smirk displayed on his face as he slowly approached you.

“You miss me?”

You looked him up and down, confirming that you were not dreaming, “M-Mark Lee? You’re alive?”

Your back is against the wall as Mark pressed his body on you, your faces were an inch away from each other. You’re babbling, dying to know how it’s possible for your long lost rival, Mark Lee, revitalized from his death and now standing in your house. Mark had been on the back of your head since the day you heard the news of his death from a combat. Apparently you’re supposed to hate him but that period of time was the darkest of your life, you practically couldn’t live without him.

He leaned in, his nose was brushing yours, “If I knew my appearance can earn that reaction from you, I would accept the job offer sooner.”

You tensed under his muscular body, his face plastered with arrogance. You squinted your eyes at him, “So you’re the body guard that my dad hired?”

Mark nodded, “Didn’t know that my death make your career path a lot easier. You’re the boss now huh?”

You pushed him away, you needed to go since you’re melting into his touch and that’s definitely not a good sign. You fixed your clothes before walking away.

“You can sleep on the couch or in the room next to the balcony. We’re going to the estate tomorrow.”, you called behind your back, “And don’t even think about breaking into my room at midnight.”.

You remembered that time you saw Mark sitting in front of your house with blood everywhere. You did let him stay at your place since he was terribly injured with two bullets in his shoulder and a gash on his ribs. He was super lucky to magically survive after that much damage, and you thought you could be a surgeon that you were phenomenally able to save him with some basic medical skills. Mark stayed with you for two weeks and literally broke into your room every night despite of your death threats and the locks on your door that you only bought because of him. You pathetically had no sleep at that time, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully when your hot enemy was pressing his chest against your back. You sighed, Mark Lee is the first bodyguard you didn’t kick out on the first day and the only bodyguard you let staying at your place.

—

You’re questioning yourself about the faith you put in Mark, your used-to-be enemy, that you actually allowed him to be your bodyguard and now you’re guiding him to your estate. What if he’s preparing for a terrorization?

“So why did you fake your death?”, you asked, only loud enough for him to hear clearly.

Mark glanced at you as he’s trying to find the perfect vocabulary for the situation, “The boss thought I’m a threat to the gang so they attempted to kill me many times, unsuccessfully though.”

“That you’ll murderer that coward and replace him? What in the mysterious novel is this?”, you laughed almost choked on your spit.

Everyone eyes landed on you and Mark when you stepped inside the building, the faint smile on your lips had soon faded away. They respectfully greeted you as you made your way to the office.

“What are you involved with?”

You heard him question when you’re in the elevator. Your fingers tapped on your lips,

“Pharmaceuticals”

“Drugs”

You darted your eyes at him as the word fell out of his mouth. “God, I’m trying to make it sound legal, no need to say it out loud like that.”, you gave him a warning look before continued talking.

“Automotive recovery and repair”

“Grand theft auto”

You’re not bothered to yell at Mark or whatsoever, as if he hadn’t done all that things.

“Defense trading”

“Selling illegal weapons”

You stopped a bit, looking at the number on the monitor screen of the elevator.

“And contract execution.”

The elevator was finally on the highest floor, which only has your office and the meeting room. You stopped at your track when you see a gap on your office door, you always remember to lock it up before going home, except it’s...

“Y/N!”

You almost passed out, you should’ve mentioned that you totally hate surprises. How do people find it’s funny when they scare the fuck out of somebody?

“Lee Haechan? When did you get here?”

You lost your balance when Haechan jumped on you for a hug, “Last night.”

You fumbled on your feet as the weight on you hardened your breathing. “God, do you always have to cling on me like that?”

His arms wrapped around your waist, he rested his head on the crook of your neck as he noticed the man that had been standing at the door frame.

“Who’s this? You better not cheat on me!”

You frowned, pushing Haechan away, “Cheat your ass! He’s my bodyguard.”, you turned around to look at Mark.

“Hey, you should go check the new people. If they mess up, I’ll kick your ass.”

You asked Haechan to leave before he continued making something up. You don’t know why he has a thing for pretending to be your boyfriend, sometimes cousin or even worse is step brother. He always knows how to get you into trouble and never take responsibility for that. You don’t know how come he’s your best friend and your assistant.

You locked the door after he already left, not care about Mark still froze at his space. You sat down, reorganized the stacks of papers on your desk.

“He’s your boyfriend?”

Your eyes flew up only for you to see that Mark was hovering over you, his hands pressed on the desk.

You looked back down, “Why would you care?”

He remained silent, you shrugged, unbothered by his question. Neither the two of you broke the silence first until you completed all the work, it’s already night time outside. You glanced at Mark, who’s sitting on the couch next to the window with his gaze focused on you. You flustered, wondering if he had been like that for 4 hours straight since you came to work after lunch.

“Let’s go.”

—

You’re walking to your car in the parking lot when someone familiar drew your attention.

“Jaehyun!”

You hollered while running towards the man. He caught you in his arms as you peck on his cheeks, which was not become unnoticed by Mark. He recognized the man, Mark had a few combats with him before.

You noticed the expression on Jaehyun’s face changed lightly when his gaze shifted. You knew what’s it about.

“He’s the bodyguard my dad hired, I’ll explain but I have to leave now okay?”

You gave him a small kiss on his lips before turning around, pulling Mark with you.

—

“Get out!”

Mark snarled when he finally pulled up in the garage. He walked out, leaving you confused in the car. Did he just yell at you? You gasped as the door beside you flung opened, he recklessly took off your seat belt before pulling you into the house.

“What the hell Mark?”

You asked when he pressed you against the door, still could not comprehend what’s happening.

“Shut up!”

He groaned into your ear, his head was on the crook of your neck, you squirmed as his hair tickled you.

“Have you done flirting with every man you meet? You want to be a slut so bad don’t you? You want Jung Jaehyun to fuck you right? And either whoever the man in your office was!”

Your body tensed under his, his breath hit your skin giving you some feelings. Both of your hands attempted to push Mark away by his shoulder but he didn’t move an inch. He left your neck to face you, his eyes gave you death stare.

“Mark take a fucking breath, okay?”, you muttered out. His eyes were still boring holes into you as you continued, “Haechan is my assistant and Jaehyun”, you stop, “I like him.”

“That jackass? That? Him?”

You frowned, “He’s not a jackass.”, you debated.

Mark grabbed you around the waist, “He doesn’t ever touch you again. Understand?” His tone was venomous. “You’re mine.”

You stood in silence as your brain functioning his words. His proximity to you was turning the heat in your veins from anger into something else.

“Oh yeah, Mark? I’m yours?”

“Mine.” His face was mere inches from yours.

You narrowed your eyes. “Fucking prove it, then, asshole.”

He tightened his grip around your waist and practically threw you onto the couch. You turned and tried to crawl away but he pulled you back down, forcefully, and slammed his hips into your ass. You could feel his erection straining against his trousers as he ground into you. You braced your hands on the couch as he kicked your legs apart and shoved your dress up around your waist.

“You want me to fucking prove it?”

He cupped your ass in his hands and squeezed hard before ripping off your lace panties and throwing them on the floor. One hand snaked around your waist to keep you from escaping while the other ran along your slit. Mark placed his finger in his mouth tasting you groaning lowly and then pulled it out with a pop. He kneeled down and ran his tongue along your slit before digging in. His tongue circling your clit before darting into your hole then going back. You moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the couch as you felt your orgasm fast approaching.

"M-Mark..." you whimpered as your legs started to shake. He groaned against you as he kept going, the vibrations making your mind go blank. "I-I-I'm... I'm go-gonna..."

He pulled away in a moment, leaving you undone. You whined, desperate to come. Instantly his hand came out and wrapped around the back of your neck pulling you close to him and smashing his lips into yours in a sloppy kiss, his tongue dominated yours as you can taste yourself on it. His other hand ran up your thigh until it reached your ass and he gripped a cheek roughly causing you to moan out.

“Do you think you deserve to cum? You acted like a slut so I treat you like one.”

He started to kiss and bite along your neck stopping every so often to leave some marks. You heard the metallic click as it was unfastened and then his zipper as he freed his cock. Then, in one motion, he slammed into your cunt.

“How about this, huh? Do you like my cock inside you?”

You gritted your teeth and nodded, Mark smacked your ass, hard. “Answer me, goddamnit. Do you like my cock inside you?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Say it.” He began a slow but punishing rhythm, pistoning into you as hard as he could. “Fucking say it, Y/N.”

“Yes–Mark....” He punctuated each of your words with a deep thrust. “I – like – your – cock – inside – me – ”

“You like it when I fuck you hard?” he growled as he began to speed up.

“Yes… yes… oh God, yes,” you moaned, giving yourself over to the pleasure.

“You filthy fucking slut… you like it when I fuck your pussy from behind like this?”

“Yes! Mark, yes!” you could feel your climax already approaching as Mark reached down to rub your swollen clit with his hips slamming into you nonstop.

“Are you mine, Y/N?” he roared.

“Yes, Mark, I’m yours!”

With that, your orgasm tore through you, your back arching as your body pulsed around him. You had barely come down from your high when leaned over, “You should be grateful that I let you cum. Turn around, dirty girl. I want your mouth.”

Mark pulled out of you and you turned around kneeling in front of him, still feeling boneless. He grasped your hair and you let your jaw drop open; he bucked his hips forward and you could taste yourself on his cock. You sucked him greedily as he thrust forward.

He groaned as he emptied himself into your mouth; you swallowed everything Mark gave you before slowly licking him clean. He fell flopped himself onto the couch, shaking from the force of his release, before wrapping his arm around your naked body.

For a few long minutes, the only sound was your labored breathing as you tried to recover.

“Do you actually like Jaehyun?”

Mark mumbled but loud enough for you to hear, his breath was still heavy.

You leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, your legs curled up, pressing against your bare chest. “Yes, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

His hand brushed your hair comfortably, “Why?”

“Didn’t you just claim me like two minutes ago? You can’t change your mind.”, Mark couldn’t help but giggled, he pressed his chin on your head. “Since when you have feelings for me?”, you looked up only to see his sharp jawline, his signature scent filled up your nostrils.

“I don’t know dude, may be that time when you held a dull dagger on my throat or when you attempted to shoot me with no bullet loaded in the gun.”

You slapped his arm playfully, “That was an accident!”

The room went into silence again, your eyes stared into the city outside of the wall of windows.

“Do you know when I figured out my feelings?”

Mark traced your fingers with his thumb, waiting for your answer. “I kissed Jaehyun because it’s the last kiss, I thought you don’t care.”, you intertwined your hand with his, “But I know you’re my everything the moment you I saw you sitting here, that my long lost hot rival is alive.”

©️  DREAMYKRAM. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[serenadeonacanoe]

Honestly, I'd piss him off on purpose. Chapter 1:

Pairing: Namjoon x Original Female Character

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, too tired to beta

Tags: Artist!Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae are the best flatmates, Enemies to Lovers I guess… more like brats to making out in the storage unit, OFC is an idiot.

More chapters on AO3

---------------------------------------------

Chapter 1

Even the sound of my own nails rhythmically tapping on the counter was annoying me. To be fair, it didn’t take much today to blow my fuse, which had never been particularly long in the first place. But after a week of being belittled by old white men and working endless hours of unpaid overtime, I’d about had it.

Welcome to the art world. You know well before you enter that the hours are brutal and the job market is more than frustrating, but you love art. You’ve got good organizational skills, you’re resilient, charming when it counts, and you tend to romanticize things even when you know you shouldn’t. It’s too late to turn back now.

"That’s why I don’t use an agenda or notebook. If something’s important enough for me to attend, I simply won’t forget. I know you youngsters are all about bullet journaling and expressing yourselves by mapping out your lives, but really it’s just another way to procrastinate instead of getting to actual work."

For a second, I considered throwing my damn notebook in the buyer’s face, but that probably wouldn’t have helped my CV or the new job I’d have to look for starting tomorrow. At the very least, I should’ve screamed at him a little. Mainly that I didn’t care. That I had PMS. That my shitty shower in the shitty apartment I shared had broken and no dry shampoo in the world had fixed my hair this morning. That goddamn it, how the hell was I supposed to remember every phone number, every call my boss had to take, every art handling transport I’d organized if I couldn’t write it down somewhere.

Instead, I smiled. Died a little inside. Complimented him on the gift of his exceptional memory and asked whether he’d like another cup of coffee.

“What a dick.” Samantha murmured, more to herself than to me, once the guy had finally left. It made me snort under my breath. She usually didn’t say much, but when she did, it was straight to the point.

In the end, it didn’t matter that he was a dick. Didn’t matter that everyone at the gallery thought the art he’d bought from us over the last few months had been neither smart nor impressive purchases. Just expensive. And flashy.

“Doesn’t matter now.” I said with a sigh, glancing at the clock. It was Friday night and we were about to close. Since it was my birthday on Monday, I’d taken two days off, the longest break I’d had all year, and I was looking forward to being the lazy slob for a few days I was maybe always meant to be.

In silence, we answered a few last emails, tidied up the desks and counters so that potential buyers coming in over the weekend wouldn’t suspect anyone had actually been working here. A white desk. A huge iMac on it. That was all they needed to see. Folders, pens, and apparently especially agendas had to be hidden away in drawers.

At five to eight, I threw on my coat and Samantha gave me a tired smile. Probably happy for me. Just exhausted.

“Have fun then? Don’t get too wasted?”

“Oh…” I grinned, smug. “You have no idea. Gonna take a bottle of Moët with me from the bar and drink it in my bathtub after eating a huge pepperoni pizza by myself and dancing to only the finest of '90s Euro Trash.”

I couldn’t help it, I felt it necessary to give Sam a little demonstration, waving my arms up and down while swaying my hips in a way I probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t had even a small audience. Or maybe two?

A quiet scoff behind me made me turn around fast, slowly lowering my arms. Sam bit her lower lip, and there I was, standing like an idiot in front of HIM, of all people.

Men didn’t have to be old to annoy me. Or white. Yes, those were usually the ones that pissed me off most, but no one had managed to do so quite like Kim Namjoon lately.

And now he was standing there, looking me up and down, stopping at my hair. The crazy, too-much-dry-shampoo-because-the-shower-broke hair.

“Nice.” he said, then looked over at Sam.

“I’d like to take a last look before Sunday’s opening, if that’s okay?”

I stood there, shoulders dropping, completely ignored.

“Uhm, actually, my babysitter has to leave in about an hour and I’ll need to be home by then.” Samantha replied, impressively calm.

“Of course.” Namjoon said with a slight smile. “Anyone else still around? Chris, maybe?”

Of course, Chris hadn’t been in today. It was Friday, and unless important guests had announced themselves, the gallery owner didn’t come in on Fridays.

“I’m afraid not. But maybe Charlotte has a few minutes?”

Well. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I felt a little betrayed.

“Wouldn’t want to keep anyone from their important Moët-Pizza-Dance Party plans.” Namjoon said before I could get a word in. His voice dropped to that hushed, deep disapproval, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his rather expensive-looking coat. Silence. Then he just walked off toward the room where his exhibition had been set up all week, showing without saying it that I’d be staying, whether I liked it or not.

“Well, thank you for pushing me under the bus like that. Really appreciate it.”

“I’m so sorry. But I was serious. I can’t lose this sitter. She got Jamie to eat vegetables. Vegetables!”

Samantha was suddenly in a rush, grabbing her jacket and purse, showering me with promises to make it up to me. We both knew that wouldn’t happen and it wasn’t necessary. Staying late was normal. I just hated that it had to be today. And because of him.

I heard the door close behind Sam and stood there for a second before putting my bag down again. Usually, I would’ve followed the artist, asked if I could help somehow, but nah… My ego was bruised up enough already - especially remembering the little dance. I closed my eyes.

Fucking hated the guy. Always had. Well, not quite.

I’d thought he was cool for about five minutes when he first came in. We’d heard about him for a few months before. I think I’d even seen pictures of him at some point, but those were nothing compared to seeing him in real life.

He came in all cheekbones and an all-gray outfit, quick pace, observant gaze. Incredibly hot. He also completely ignored me.

That's how it started - a bruised ego. He couldn't know that it was my weak spot.

I had studied art and its management, but often felt more like a glorified secretary. My colleagues and I were doing all the behind-the-scenes work while Chris strolled in for a few hours, reaped all the money, and got the recognition. I knew this wasn’t unique to the art world, but it still got under my skin... I’d imagined life in my late twenties to be a bit more glamorous than living in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city... spending Friday night waiting for some rude artist dude to finally leave so I could lock up.

But what I probably hated most about him was that I admired him. Purely for his art. Really. Even the way he acted like I didn’t exist every time he came in didn’t stop me from admitting that - at least to myself. The stories behind his massive collages were clever, well thought-out. And even without knowing the context, the aesthetics alone were stunning. His work reached into something deep, and standing in front of it, I always had a hundred questions. Whenever he brought in a new piece, I was the first to sneak a peek in the back before it got hung.

"I don't get why you have such a problem with him. He’s just... quiet. I think he might even be shy. Stop being so sensitive and just ask him out already." I had almost strangled Sam for that comment a couple of weeks ago. Stop being so sensitive. What did that even mean? Words like that made me want to cry and scream at the same time, which would, of course, be perceived as even more sensitive. But when had being numb become something to aim for? I didn’t say anything because I liked Sam, and I knew what she meant. At least I thought I did. That maybe I wouldn’t care so much if I wasn’t actually attracted to Namjoon. I’d never said it, but she knew. She knew that if I didn’t care about something, I didn’t waste my time on it. But if something pissed me off? Yeah, there was usually more to it. I hated that she could read me that easily. Still, he was a dick. And I still just wanted to go home.

He took his sweet time. After an hour, I walked up to him, a little speech prepared about how he could come back first thing tomorrow. But when he turned around, he just lifted a hand between us like a barrier and turned away again. I hadn’t seen he was on the phone. "No, it’s nothing. Just one of the gallery employees." he said. And okay... if I wasn’t about to explode before, I definitely was now. I stood there for a moment, fuming, then walked back to the office area. My hand shook as I began switching off the gallery lights one by one. It wasn’t quite as satisfying as I’d hoped, but still felt good. Two minutes later, only the light above my head and the one by the door were left on. I figured I’d at least show him which way to go - he clearly needed help.

When Namjoon stepped out from one of the darker corners, he looked even more annoyed than usual. He squinted at me, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. "Seriously?" he shouted, nearly walking into one of the flyer shelves. Not the first time I’d seen him do that, so maybe it wasn’t the lighting’s fault.

I felt oddly triumphant. By the time I had my coat on and turned off the last two lights, ready to finally lock up, Namjoon had just about made his way to the door. He was still on the phone, standing right in the open entrance. I gave a little groan when he didn’t even notice me standing behind him... or maybe he did and just didn’t care. Instead of clearing my throat or trying to squeeze past him, I just placed my hands on his back and gently pushed until his feet hit the pavement and he turned around. For a second, he looked like he was about to push back. Or trample me.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem, Charlotte?" His voice was hoarse, his eyes dark. God, he was hot. I hated him so much. "You." I replied, deadpan. Then I turned back to lock the two bolts on the door and punched in the alarm code. I couldn’t help but feel smug - apparently, he knew my name. I pictured him staring at the back of my head, flustered. Couldn’t be sure though. All I knew was that when I turned around, he was still there, arms crossed over his chest, mouth set in a straight line, watching me.

"Do you always act like that at work, around people who could get you in trouble?" He had a point. He could get me in trouble. But I was too fired up, my heart racing. "Is that a threat?" "An observation." "Only around the ones I don’t like." "Cool." "Great." "Enjoy the dance party. Sounds shit."

And with that, he turned around and walked off, coat flying open in the wind. Unfortunately, it made him look cool. I ABSOLUTELY HATED HIM. I didn’t say another word, just walked off in the opposite direction - only to realize minutes later that my car was the other way. Still, I kept walking for a bit before turning back. It took a while to calm down. Only cuddling up with my cat in front of some trash TV finally did the job. But by then, I’d realized something I wasn’t sure I liked. Yeah, I thought he was a prick. And yeah, I should’ve just played it cool. That would’ve been smarter in a lot of ways. But I’d also kind of... enjoyed myself. In the most fucked up way.

Seeing that stern look, that intense way he loomed over me... yeah, I’d piss him off on purpose. Literally.