#this is absolute trash but im just excited to have written something

[sillywillylils]

this is my first ever fic to be introduced to my lovely emme’s work and i am absolutely SO EXCITED like i know this is just going to be amazing. let’s get straight into it!!

“tyunningism’s note: Special thanks to Lily for helping me with the gunshot scene!!” i just got a mention im going to cry MWAH OFC ANYTIME SWEETS </3

“Another street fight downtown in the peaceful suburbs; another stain that can't be scrubbed from your itching skin even if you bathe yourself in the strongest bleach— because they'll know where you scurried from. The smell that's carried with the lowest of the low” THIS IS INSANE?? OH MY???

“Hilarious, isn't it? That you can be left growling for days in the rubble and grit of their trash that bleeds dirty blood with greed composed of money you could never dream of. News agencies are the first to bark at the government's attempts to integrate your class with the likes of the wealthier. A pathetic apology for being born into a stable of destitution disguised under the term 'Amenities and Welfare' than a response for help. Babies still squeal abandoned in the bulleting rain and children still roam with stolen sugar sticks and cigarettes for their incompetent fathers; tucked deep into the seams of their shorts where no one could take away their means for survival” this entire scene is wow like i am blown away by just how true it is and how beautiful its structured and written

“Because in these urine-stunk slums blood runs thicker than the sweat of your truthful work” THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE BAR OH MY???

“'Don't play with her anymore Jaeyun, she's a bad influence.'” oh hey jake what’s up

“‘We don't have much but my parents would never stoop that low. Oops! Should've kept my mouth shut—please don't kill me next!!’” people are ruthless and straight up mean when she couldn’t even control what her dad did

“that he can't hide his own growing loathing for you when you look him in the eyes” jake i thought we would be in this together….. what the flip

“That you can never truly be rid of the skin you're born with when everything on your face takes after his” emme you’re literally dropping hit after hit and my mind can’t take it (keep it coming)

“it's what gives you faith that you're not an outlier anywhere else aside from this transient world” as someone who loves stars this is truly amazing and it switched something inside of me

"’I wasn't going to drink tonight but you're really stubborn you are, butterfly’" BUTTERFLY???

"’Butterfly, as long as you don't mess around with your life and hand it over to some criminal thugs you won't be anything like him. Doesn' matter what they tell ya, you didn't murder someone so their words hold no truth until you do. Then this old man can't help you at all.’ Tell that to the people here…like they'd give a shit” hehe i know something that people don’t know…. hehehehehehehehe

“They say, what use are prayers when Heaven has closed its gates on your foul blood?” EMME THIS IS INSANE HOLY COW WHAT?!/$8:

“You wonder if he finally saw through to you before the gun was slipped back in to his pocket following the shut of the closet”

"’Nothing here’ Accented, different and more mature from when your ears last picked up on it—like sandalwood—but nonetheless his” JAKEEEEEEEEEEEEE IS IT YOU

"’Jay. The window's open. She must've left through there’" sorry guys jay is hunting me down for another night together, it’s okay i’m already on my way back to him

“Click!— ‘Don't say a fucking word’” That same pressure again, gun hammered to your forehead with a gloved hand soaked in rouge shutting you up with the sickly-sweet mix of coffee and metal. ‘Attagirl. Don't think we're all buddy-buddy like we used to be because I let you off this once. I'm already tying my shoes on the powerlines because of this and it doesn't mean jack to me whether I pull the trigger or not’” WHAT THE FUCK?’!|*~!<* He better not play with me… i swear because he doesn’t know…

“What a breakthrough Sim Jaeyun. It was like yesterday when he packed his belongings out of hatred for exactly what he's grown up to be now; a cold blooded murderer” i am gagged like there’s no words that can describe how i feel right now

“The old man's greyed hairs are tainted with that identical sickly-sweet stench reeking from Jaeyun’s shirt, mangled on the floor with his head twisted beyond human capability as he slumps on the last step—a wound far too grizzly to describe as a killing, a butchering more suitable to put it in to words” GET THEM AWAY HUMPHREY NOOOOOOO

“He seeks an escape from his own torment with palms painted vermillion. Even if that meant rinsing the blood of people he looked up to the most from white cloths and hands unworthy of salvation” every paragraph is managing to make me go crazy every time like the way you write your words and describe everything is utterly amazing

“Male, much younger than you were expecting with a mole sharply dotted next to his nose with precision— deadly handsome in a sense you couldn’t describe” is this…. s-sunghoon? my love…

“‘Sorry sweetheart, this one might hurt’ The impact of the wooden baton swung to the backside of your resting head leaves a trail of scarlet which will be left unnoticed upon other pools of reds around the manlier arms heaved under yours; the pain barely tinging in your knocked state.” UHM WAHT THE FUCK?!?!

“‘Be more gentle next time Kai, that’s a girl in your arms’” CLEAR THE AREA CLEAR THE AREA KAI IS HERE GUYS

“‘Get a move on, Sunghoon’ The male leant against the peeling paint of the shuttlebus discards of his gloves down below onto an empty street. A small souvenir for whoever may be unlucky enough to find it that ParadoXXX aren’t leaving with another round of bloodied noses, they’ll emerge from these slums with Eternally crawling at their feet— sights he’s desperate for as he straddles the back of the motorbike. ‘I knew I’d find her by the shuttlebus stops. Heeseung’s ought to introduce his cousin to me after this’” i don’t even know how to feel about this i swear, like my head is reeling, i’m falling, hotel trivago

“‘Listen little-one. I don’t know who the fuck Humphrey is but I’ve got nothing to do with it, and nobody likes a girl who cries wolf, do they? I’m only after that ruby ring on your finger. It’s beautiful, I’d slot it on a dainty finger too if only it weren’t stolen from its rightful owner’” whoever the bus driver is… i’m coming for you LEAVE MY GIRL ALONE?? but little one… hey…

“‘Hah— as expected of you Taehyun, you’re really the coordinator of our little team here. Checked for explosives? Weapons?’ Taehyun” hey so i am so ready for this, just imagine my iconic dog licking gif right about now

“But Jake. Jake had been perfectly fine to walk his own line with his new friends who find it the greatest joy of life to make the world more cruel and unfair than it already has been towards him. He wouldn’t think twice before pulling that trigger to your head last night if one of these folks were present. Be hostile. Be nasty. So you let his name spill from dry lips even if that meant he’d be in grave danger” don’t hate the player, hate the game

“‘Taehyun’s taken a liking to you, so I’ll send you out on a business deal with him. It’s light, all that’s needed to be done is act stupid in front of Heeseung’s circle since they’re obviously interested in you for whatever reason, as long as you’re willing to dirty your hands’” TAEHYUN IM COMING WAIT FOR ME but the last sentence…. im scared

“who you’ve learnt to be called Yeonjun though he prefers YJ” THATS MY MAN and my mind goes back to that one video where he’s holding the back and then hitting someone with it…. yeah….

“a tattoo gun gripped in his hand as he swabs the patch of skin Yeonjun ordered to be inked with their mark” t-t-tattoo artist taehyun…. dog licking gif

“‘Eternally’s not like that. None of us chose to follow down this obvious dead-end but where else can we run to when the world’s shut all it’s doors on us, except the gateway to hell at the cost of nothing compared to the gateway of Heaven that costs everything we can’t afford. It’s easier to sin than pretend to be some sort of Solomon and I’m fine with that. You can curse me in front of my face all you want—I can’t deny that we’re terrible people. We still kill, we steal, we do all kinds of messed up shit that would land us in the chair. What’s there to be proud of?’” this is fucking art right here, not even exaggerating right now and i love to mention how the groups are correlated with their songs and eternally being one of my fav songs from txt just warms my heart

i just want to take some time at the way taheyun’s story is so similar to mc’s like they are basically the same but in different fonts. it’s a little refreshing to see how taehyun opened up to her regardless of barely knowing her but i like to see it as maybe from the moment he saw her, he knew there was some connection and he knew that it was just a bother version of him.

“guess bad seeds will always be rotten to the core” these are the lines that are taking me into orbit and spinning me around and around

“Soobin chews on the loaf of bread he stole from a small beginner’s bakery, the food pushed to the side of his cheek blowing in disproportion to the other while he rolls a blunt stuffed with clusters of flaked green with careful hands” my baby <3

“‘She’s not gambling with any cheaters like you’ That melodic voice you recognise— Taehyun’s back earlier than expected” when he’s protective heheheheheh… BEHEHEH

“Meanwhile on the highway of the city’s fastest roads, a male with cherry red hair glowers at the mirror of his driver’s car, knuckles decorated with brass clenched tight into an agitated fist that slams at the window in heated fury that shakes the vehicle vigorously” CHEERY RED HEE CHERRY RED HEE CHERRY RED HEE ADD MY DOG LICKING GIF RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW

“The blonde coughs in hopes that he’d relieve his boss’ lament, turning on the air conditioning a little stronger to cool off the hot-headedness radiating form the backseat” add my dog licking gif again because having jake as a blond is CRIMINAL BECAUSE I NEED EVERYONE RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW

“‘Say she isn’t at the brothel, you have a reason to pick a bone with Choi for toying with what’s yours Heeseung, it’s not a bad idea’”

“‘Not a bad idea at all, Jake’” hahahahah i am terrified right now

“‘New face around town? Didn’t know your boss was hiring, Doyoung’” DOYOUNG??(MY MAN OMGOGMGOMG)

“Taehyun’s not supposed to open fire at Homer’s tonight, he’s not supposed to have the gun fully loaded and aimed from up at the balcony like it is at the moment when you’re merely conversing with Lee Heeseung as you were instructed. The prostitute kisses down the bulging vein in his neck down to the pecs of his torso similar to the seduction of a siren— a thumb pressed to the tent of his pants that he pushes away when he notices the gangster getting too fucking close to what’s not even his” I AM FREAKING OUT AND ROCKING BACK AND FORTH LIKE A MADMAN AT THIS POINT OH MY GOD

“Disgusts him because the prominent voice out of the millions inside of his head wants to beg for the tears balancing in your watery eyes to fall and stain your cheeks their natural hue through the sticky-mess of your concealer. He relishes in it, how your lips quiver and hyperventilate with emotion that makes his erection twitch with gross excitement; so vulnerable, needy. You just need someone to hold and cry on— and he can play the nice guy if it meant he could get a taste of the purest sin he can get his hands on. If it meant that he could tarnish you with grime by having you tonight, a disgusting fantasy in his twisted head that he can’t blame his psychotic mother for nor the criminal life he leads but his own skin, blood and flesh that fucking loves it like some sick creep when you cry for his help at the thump of footsteps getting closer” i am screaming right now if you can hear something just know that is just me screaming at the top of my lungs because this entire paragraph took me out like how they’re about to be taken out-

“‘Get on your knees and suck me off. Trust me on this one, baby’” i actually had to get up and take a fucking lap because what do you mean? excuse me? what? what happened to hello? hi? SOMETHING?!!:&;but no need to tell me twice heheheh

“He’s thick, a bit too thick for what you thought was ‘big’ on screen, and he hisses when you feel around the weight of it in your hands—contemplating whether you really could bring yourself to slot him on your tongue when he’s already starting to drag on your hand” i can handle this, make some room and let me show how a master works, TAEHYUN GET READY FOR ME

“Taehyun bucks his hips into the warm cave of your mouth. Lewd gagging of your virgin throat more raw than any of the artificial moans brewed by the women down in the brothel as he holds the back of your head to guide you along the stretch whilst also putting on a show” I CANT EVEN BREATHE RIGHT NOW BECAUSE WHAT THE HECK WHAT THE HECK WHAT THE ACTUAL HECK

“A show that needs to be messy, filthy and looks nothing more or less of a heated quickie as he bunches your hair in his hands— fervorous as globs of spit leaked into the mix of fluids on damp ground beneath you. A sight to behold especially for the blonde who runs towards the dead end you’re gagged to Taehyun’s balls in” i’ll give him the sloppiest head ever, LET ME IN RIGHT NOW LET ME IN

“There’s no reason for him to still be caressing your tear-stained cheeks as he pushes his dick further down your coarse throat; it’s an act that’s supposed to break out of character the moment the audience leaves, and yet he holds you in position for a second longer than he should” now this is what i’m talking about, yes yes yes yes yes yes

“‘Never heard of someone who wants to make a criminal cum. Are you sure that’s what you want,baby?’” i have never been more sure of anything ever in my life, let do this

“Taehyun wants to mould your virgin throat to fit the fruit he grows from his bad seed, he wants to be the one to teach you the forbidden sermons of the devil’s book you were never meant to encounter. You don’t belong in their lair of outcasts— but he’ll make it happen the moment he marks you fucking his” my throat hurts (from all the screaming… nothing else…)

“He ruts into your mouth like he has places to be instead of wasting his time on these lone streets with you, hot and feverish as you yelp at the sudden change in rhythmic slapping of his pelvis to your drool painted chin. It’s like he’s purposely rushing to chase an orgasm with how rough each spit slathered thrust is to your aching jaw, starting to hurt from the strain and the soft sponge at the back of your throat he continues to ram into relentlessly. Sharp spikes of pleasure-filled pain mix the logic of your brain as rinsed tears start to form again— tears that could arise a bucketload of his cum if he dwelled on it too much because he loves the nastiness of it and the dubious essence of pain and lustful crying” i’m shaking back and forth, i’m levitating back and forth

“He'll bathe you in the very felonies he drowns in. He’ll teach you the ropes of how to smoke, drink, how to wield a gun. He’ll teach you how to kiss, how to ride him, and at the end of it all when he’s tired, he’ll teach you how to leave— leave like his mother had because you should have known from the start that this was bound to happen, and you should have him” UHMMMM WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON I NEED TO RUN AROUND THE WORLD AND NEVER STOP

“Your undignified moans pulse around his tip, hands clawing with desperate pleas at the belt of his jeans, and god when you look at him so powerlessly as he shuts your wails with the stuffing of his cock, he pulls you off of him with a pop! — Letting his seed coat the rich satin dress you bore and now have to explain the stain for later” oh my god. oh my. i am screaming way too much and i can’t stop myself from losing my mind any longer

“‘And we were taught before we could even speak that blood runs thicker than water’” oh this line

“And Taehyun had caught you too in the surprise of a kiss; lips pressed to yours that you didn’t know how to respond to with each mesh of fat, crashing of warm tongues and the bite on your bottom lip as he caves in for more. Sloppy with no sense of direction, purely primal in mutual need as his hands crawl up the vines that guard the soft skin of your neck; a possession he’s not to touch. But Taehyun doesn’t want to play by the rules— not when he’s pent up with anger from Yeonjun’s scolding, not when you’re so easy to give in to him like this” A KISS THEY FINALLY KISSED

“Detaching your lips from his for a breath is suffocating to say the least. You’re chasing after it again. The taste of sin on your lips and the pressure of his thumb cradled around your neck. Like it’s some sort of life force how his kisses turn into addiction, his touch bringing life to your diminishing soul as the sinking of his teeth dip into your neck and bruises your skin into darker blotches; tainted with the lapse of indulging in the debauchery of Taehyun” it’s like every paragraph i must say something because that’s just how good this is like the detailing, the way you describe how it feels that i swear i can feel it myself

“He wants to hear the filthiest pleas that run abrasive along the lining of your throat as he fucks you, until you can feel all the bad within him coursing through each rough slap of his hips like some ritual of corruption. He wants to mark you his, embellish your waist with his blood-soaked hands that pinch and slap at sensitive skin and evoke those tears of pain-rich pleasure” do it, you won’t.

“‘See? All this overreacting for what— your pussy’s just as much of an attention whore as you are. Always finding something to complain about, always getting on my nerves crying over nothing’” HE FUCKING HER MEAN?!?!? oh i’m so dizzy hold me up

“Thick fingers push at your lips, resting deep past the flat of your tongue as you gagged lewdly waiting for him to pick up the pace again, to help resolve the knot building up in your stomach that causes you to jolt when he fans his breath on your chest” he’s so mean in here oh emme you knew what needed to be given and i am EATING this up right now I CANT

“‘Don’t worry about making a mess, just cum for me like a good girl’” i am about to backflip into the sun with no hesitation (ps i already am)

“When were you capable of such insensitive words? Capable of turning suffering into a competition when you should know better than anyone the hurt of it all” this is when taehyun is going to realize he fucked up and she’s slowly starting to become like them slowly but surely

“‘Murderer’s daughter or not, you’re still mine tonight’” UHMMMM WHAT THE ACTUAL HECK?/!:$;$ i’m screaming

“So why do your eyes brim with tears when you notice him suck and bruise her skin red and purple down to her chest in a beautiful design that outshone the lazy and messy splotches randomly placed over your skin?” i will jump this man foxy style (and NOT in a good way)

“‘Woah— hey, hey now Taehyun. Let’s talk this out, shall we? You hand Jake the girl and we’ll leave Eternally alone for good— how does that sound? On top of two million up front? Surely that girl can’t mean that much to you—‘”

“The fire of a gunshot crackles in the air with unpredictability, originating too close to your timid ears as Taehyun holds you tight to his chest with his gun slotted securely in his hand. Too quick for you to grasp the situation as your ears ring with the sudden burst of the bullet and your heartbeat fastens with worry-fuelled adrenaline as you stare at the pool of blood trickling on the floor.” I FUCKING SCREAMED BOOM YEAH WATCH WHAT YOU SAY ABOUT HIS GIRL AROUND HIM

“‘Your leader should know better to fire first than to run his mouth’”OMG ITS THE SCENE ITS THE SCENE HOLD ON EVERYONE

“For a second you get an insight of just who Taehyun can be as he laughs with guilty hands rubbing down his face, pulling at his eyes in the process as he drops the gun in your shaking ones that struggle to adapt to the weight of the pistol; and the price of Taehyun’s sins laying burdensome in your palms. It’s unnatural for you to clasp around the grip without the interception of his hand ghosting over yours. He’s not touched the blood nor did the splatter reach him, yet the foul stench of copper diffuses into his natural musk— bloodlust still visible in the menacing smile he leaves you with as he whispers, soft but with an edge, in your ear” I AM FREAKING OUT OMGOGMGOG

“‘You want to be a part of us don’t you, baby? You want me to trust you and take you seriously?’ His hand redirects the muzzle of his gun wrapped within your fingers to Jake who lays armless with stark-awake eyes that plead with mercy you thought you could only find in teenage Jaeyun all those nights ago. Eyes that don’t look at you with disgust for your father and your doomed blood that flows most viscously with the remorse of murder, but instead forgiveness as he plasters the shakiest smile he could have on his lips” i am actually petrified right now CAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS IS GOING TO GO, are we going to welcome the sins forced upon or become the very person we hate

“‘You remember right? That night in the closet I—I spared your life so can you…can you..let this one time go?’ His voice trembles with the same fear he stammered on the very premise of the park that turned you from best friends to strangers overnight; from resting on each other’s shoulders, and dreaming of make it out of slanted-roof slums to moving miles apart from each other, unfamiliar’s in the making” FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUVJCK I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO FEEL ANYMORE LIKE IM SO CONFUSED

“His finger pushes your frozen-still ones up the to the trigger, dancing around the danger of possibility and the consequences of bad decisions. Amateur hands should’ve never found refuge on the mass of cold steel laced with gun powder that takes you back to two weeks ago—when you would have been on the receiving end of the bullet in that interrogation room if it weren’t for Taehyun. Who now snickers barbarically at your conscience’s last attempts to sway you—how you vowed to forbid this moment, promised to never have lost yourself in the craze of savagery in the likes of your damned father” i am trying to hard to comprehend this like actually i have no idea how i feel, all i know is that my stomach is twisting and my head in reeling and i feel sick

“Except Taehyun’s read you like a book, reread every crease in the page and every torn edge to understand what it takes for you to listen, for you to obey at his orders as he kisses the back of your ear gently with a hand slithered around your waist. ‘What are you waiting for baby? Fucking shoot him’” HE BETTER NOT TEST ME BECAUSE I WILL SEND HIM INTO NEXT WEEK

“Jaeyun still has hands in the starchy-thick air for you to see through the facets of his crimes, ‘We planned to make it…’ Jaeyun gulps loudly with a quivering intake of breath, ‘—planned to not end up like our parents…we were going to make it to fucking LA, shit we can make it out of these slums together I’ve made enough cash—‘“

“‘Damn incompetent bastard, all he’ll do is leave you again like before. You know I won’t leave you baby, Eternally will take care of you so pull the trigger for me, will you?’” being manipulated and gaslit so fucking hard right now like it’s not even funny BY THE BOTH OF THEM?? spare her why don’t ya

“Dead, at the ungranted mercy of your hands, Sim Jaeyun was” i’m about to go join him

“And the rings you exchange on each other’s fingers as he enters you with a lust-crazed purr followed by the damning of his blasphemous hips that cave into the darkening of your impure womb” OH MY FUCKING GOD?!? RIGHT AFTER WHEN THEY GET MARRIED??? WHAT THE FUCK

“The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree” oh my god.

i am gagged like you have no idea, like actually gagged like there’s no fucking tomorrow. emme this was my first introduction to your fics and needless to say that i will be consuming everything else you write because this is amazing.

i was blown away by the way i was immersed in this fic like i swore i could feel mc’s emotions right as they were happening like truly my jaw was dropping everytime i kept getting onto the next paragraph.

as always thank you so much for writing this fic and releasing it to the public for everyone to read, it has truly blown me away. all the hard work and dedication you had to complete this fic is so respectable. i cannot wait to consume the rest of your fics

much love to you- l.p

Spin Me On Broken Feet ⋆♱✮♱⋆

── .✦ pairing: k.th x reader

Outliers in the picture-perfect frame of an ideal society, a convict’s daughter and a runaway son, you’re subject to the piercing expectations that hold no value. There’s no place on this dismantled earth for you to run back to and call ‘home’, but there is an alleyway in the grimiest slums of the next city that’s better than nothing for the outcasted. ⋆.˚

╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead...

…or in simple words… ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ!ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᝰ.ᐟ wc- 23.1k

mentions !! and warnings !! blood/mile gore, substance use, cheating mentions, like one mention of gambling, broken family dynamics, angst no comfort, death, gang violence + murder(crime and weapon use), arguing and derogatory lang, manipulation, corruption, oral!m rec, unprotected sex, dubcon, overstim, marking, degradation, dacryphilia, impact play, sadi + maso, dom!tyun, bullet wounds, finger gag, choking, some religious imagery(sin,salvation,heaven etc), cigarette burns (not in smut), slight public sex in empty space, ft.txt and enhypen

tyunningism’s note: Special thanks to Lily for helping me with the gunshot scene !!This fic is a heavy one so viewer discretion advised !! Spent a lot of time redrafting and it’s finally here <3 I’m like forced to post three taehyun fluff drabbles now after this. I tried to link my writing style somewhat similar to ghosting hehe but enjoy !!!

The old-fashion television flickers with static. Enough to drown out the rapturous malice of Humphrey who curses at each flick of the coffee-stained newspaper as he skims the headlines. Another street fight downtown in the peaceful suburbs; another stain that can't be scrubbed from your itching skin even if you bathe yourself in the strongest bleach— because they'll know where you scurried from. The smell that's carried with the lowest of the low.

Hilarious, isn't it? That you can be left growling for days in the rubble and grit of their trash that bleeds dirty blood with greed composed of money you could never dream of. News agencies are the first to bark at the government's attempts to integrate your class with the likes of the wealthier. A pathetic apology for being born into a stable of destitution disguised under the term 'Amenities and Welfare' than a response for help. Babies still squeal abandoned in the bulleting rain and children still roam with stolen sugar sticks and cigarettes for their incompetent fathers; tucked deep into the seams of their shorts where no one could take away their means for survival.

And you can still be that child—who now stuffs their hands and pockets full with half eaten microwaveable meals and leftover cheap liquor storing tiny sips left from the pub after Christmas. But the expectations you were held to at eight don't apply the same when you're sixteen. Nobody suspects a child of stealing when you're so little; scrambling back home on the pavements that crack with guilt from the nicked lollipops and chocolate coins falling through your hole-rich clothes. At sixteen you're unpreparedly pushed in to the expectations of adulthood. It doesn't matter if you still don't know how to read or fend for yourself on these streets, if you have the will to live and dig through takeout boxes to satisfy a growling stomach then you're just as capable of being a criminal like your convict of a father. Not you who stole from the small confectionery two blocks down? Not their problem. Because in these urine-stunk slums blood runs thicker than the sweat of your truthful work.

You were the first to blame in the basket of rotten eggs of other teens your age like their very own scapegoat. Some tatted with poorly done stick-and-pokes to embody their gambling fathers, others frail and sickly with the pungent mildew of their sorrowful mothers. And you lied in the epicenter of the scale; neither to return home to apart from a withering Humphrey who took you in when the calamitous rumors first began to spread.

'I heard that woman left for the first flight to Russia this morning. How horrible to not take the child with her—I guess the resemblance to that wicked man must have been too haunting for her weak mind.'

'Utterly foolish. Gamble, steal and smoke all you want. He just had to dirty his hands with his debt collector's blood—good riddance! We're already poor enough here and now we're going to be known as the neighbourhood of a murderer.'

'Don't play with her anymore Jaeyun, she's a bad influence.'

Invisible bounties were slotted above your head before you could clear your name.

A drink on me for whoever can find that murderer's daughter for me tonight.

Kids banter and mocking laughs they called 'karma'.

We don't have much but my parents would never stoop that low. Oops! Should've kept my mouth shut—please don't kill me next!!~

And worst of all when Jaeyun confronted you at the park two days after your sixteenth.

My mom's moving us out of here…not because of you—your dad. Just moving to another slum in town she says will be better for us.

You can't decide which one burns the end of your tongue more as you bite on your words. The fact that he lied to you about why he's moving when it's as clear as day in his mother's grimacing face or that he can't hide his own growing loathing for you when you look him in the eyes. He was once a kid who aspired to make it big in the city outside of these crumbling concrete cells you both refuge in; promising he'll never turn out like his broken family just like how you'll never end up like your indebted gambling parents. But there he goes as he runs back to the scratched assembly of suitcases to leave you by the swings— when you realised that he believes it too, doesn't he? That you can never truly be rid of the skin you're born with when everything on your face takes after his.

What use is there to cry when morbid tears bear heavier weight from the eyes of the debt collector's family than yours? You wanted to fly else where under a completely new identity where no one knew your name. Where your father's case didn't reach their ears so they couldn't see the resemblance. Like your mother in Russia, who left her trial at life behind in these dismal settlements, smiling with a new family to tend to with a foreign man than blot the dirt and coal of your face with warm water soaked on the ends of her night gown—which she wore for months on end day and night—whenever you got in to nasty trouble.

Had she have left a couple of bills of your dispersed family's life savings for you, then you probably would've hopped on to the bumpy course of a shuttle bus to the next city as well. You don't blame her for leaving, you yearn to be free of his shackles too.

In your twenties now, you're still outcasted even in a hell hole of heathens. Having settled in your father's best friend—Humphrey—‘s flat where all the windows are barricaded shut. In case one or two kids throw cheap fireworks and stolen goods through the gaps to incriminate you for good this time. Apart from the tallest roof-window in the attic you sleep in. Cramped, but better than being one of the unlucky few who fall asleep in even the direst settings of smashed plates and unfed infant wails, you'd much rather listen to Humphrey watch the evening channels to sunrise.

The roof-window is never closed unless in the events of a storm. Partially because on those restless nights, when all you can hear is the youth down below exchanging and swinging their knives with intricately designed blades instead of chocolate bars and gum, only the stars can soothe your wounds from this prejudicial town. The stars don't turn you away when you peek your head through the window, and in that sense, anyone can look up to those burning gas balls. Dirt poor or filthy rich-living on the other side of the city where the grass is greener and lush; the stars don't see you for anything more or less than them, it's what gives you faith that you're not an outlier anywhere else aside from this transient world.

On days that the stars don't appear and all you can do is warn the new generation of systemically impoverished children that their intricately beautiful knives won't keep their heads on their necks for long in a real violent fight—you look up for the planes.

Because then you can dream of the day your mother will return for you when she's healed her own hurt. Would she look plump with a face that's been pampered with towels of warm milk? Would she answer why she left you here alone?

You don't need to hear the answer to that frankly, you already know. And you've heard it countless of times from Humphrey to bother asking him again.

The old television is still flickering with static when you lift your head from your wandering thoughts; eyes flitting to check on the old man's mood before you ask for the repetition of the same story again.

"Humphrey," Brown strands of hair between greying ones are pushed back by the man's hand as he lowers his tilted glasses, "Did mom ever leave me a letter?—" The slam of his coffee mug dawns on you that by now you should've stopped trying, the screeching of his chair as he leans back to swindle the beer bottle from the counter stacked with dirty dishes dreadful to your ears.

"I wasn't going to drink tonight but you're really stubborn you are, butterfly." He would've drunk his sorrows away tonight anyway even without your nagging. He's holding on to the electricity bill with yellowing hands, not because he couldn't pay it off, but because paying it off meant that he'd have to cut in to your savings to move in to the next city once he's gone. 62…65 he lost count once he stopped caring, but his health is rapidly deteriorating for his age and it's showing.

"If that woman you're so keen on calling your mother wished you well that wench wouldn't have spent her lifesavings on a first-class ticket over two economies for her child as well." The worst thing is he's right about that part and it shatters your envisionment of her. But you’ll gladly pick up those shattered shards again to slowly build up the same falsified image—there's no heart in you to believe she's just as irredeemably wicked as your father.

His next advice doesn't sit as well with your stomach. "Your father at heart was never a bad man until he got stupid and laissez-faire with his work. You should know that better than anyone—blame it on him all you want but you have to realise that these very streets drove him to do it," The newspaper closes on itself from the gust of wind and at the same time you chew on the inside of your cheek, knowing that this conversation was headed down a path you didn't want to explore, one you wanted to close off completely. "Butterfly, as long as you don't mess around with your life and hand it over to some criminal thugs you won't be anything like him. Doesn' matter what they tell ya, you didn't murder someone so their words hold no truth until you do. Then this old man can't help you at all." Tell that to the people here…like they'd give a shit.

Pitch black empties through out the room in an ink that stains your words so you can't say them aloud anymore. The candle must've been blown out and that's you're sign for you to return back up those creaky floorboards of stairs to your room for the night. Even if you wanted to pick a fight with Humphrey over mentioning the male again in a defending tone the silence is all you need to keep your rocking relationship with the elderly male sailing in peace.

This time you don't give Humphrey a 'good night' but you really fucking wish you did.

Ramshackle wood creaks you awake earlier than the usual alarm of Humphrey's morning TV. The stars still haven't left their crests in the sky when you notice the ruckus of his coffee-machine whirring has been replaced with the rampage of footsteps; multiple, weighted with the consequences of their sins as the floorboards became creakier towards the attic.

The first instinct is to run. Don't look back for me, just go wherever your two feet can take you, he'll say but the dread filling up your lungs with stifling breathless air directs you inside the closet; dreary and compact with crawly creatures you'd prefer not to acknowledge.

Humphrey had warned you plenty about different guests who may show up without a prior letter nor stay for tea, and to every single one of them you're just fish food for their ulterior motives. So be hostile, be nasty. To them the lowest you can go anyway is be the daughter of a murderer—so don't try and suck up to those pot-bellied men and polish their shoes when they intrude through the doors. It means jack shit to the Lee’s circle.

"Fuck—it smells like dog piss in here."

"Stupid bastard can't do anything for himself can he?"

Baritone voices as rich as sweet wine bounce off the dented walls, but not quite sweet enough to blanket the red dye of that putrid stench of iron so nauseatingly strong it carries the burden of at least a hundred bodies on their culpable hands.

"What's so special about this one? I'll slit that lamb's throat the minute I find her for all this overtime." The silence you swore and tied your tongue to keep is broken by a choked gasp you failed to resist. Or at least you attempted to resist the dreadful clogging in your throat of whispered prayers and dire fear. For if God wanted to make your life so miserable he should be loving enough to spare you a chance to live when you've been on the route to death ever since the year you turned 16. They say, what use are prayers when Heaven has closed its gates on your foul blood? And you wish you had an actual answer to their insulting questions and not just faith that the group of men entering, no, invading the attic will leave without the extra effort of wasting a golden bullet on an already doomed soul.

"I heard something here—search the room." Shelves of dust-kissed books and skyscrapers of piled scrap crash down into the center of the tiny room, cluttering it further as more stringent curses fall from tight-screwed lips with every peltering blow to the furniture.

Hairs trailing down your neck raise on their ends in a shield of spikes when the reload of a gun rattles in your eardrums menacingly. It's not like you've never heard the deafening pelt of a bullet before; it may be the case somewhere uptown where chandelier-lit dinners are considered cheap if there isn't a dozen turkeys stuffed with a hefty price tag and relish for a starter, not here though. In these crime-stricken streets covered by a pall of the people's remorse and sin there's not one person who doesn't wield a gun of some sort outside of their grim homes, but knowing you're on the other side of the muzzle is far different from hearing the crackling of window-pane glass from your attic.

Like a deer in headlights, they've got you exactly where they wanted; enclosed and helpless beyond the loose hinges of the closet doors. Street rats can win a fight with bare fists alone, and the dealers on the street can get by just fine as long as this side of town's still yearning for that high every once in a while, when most of their calendar is wasted on begging for meagre dimes. You however have nothing. You find yourself stuck in a cycle where even the rock bottom of society, the lint of people's clothes look down on your weakness; no mouthpiece to defend you from their self-done exorcisms masked by slander; no will to fight anymore when you'd much rather find pain from the kicks to your dwindling legs than the cuts and bruises of their malignant stares. And as the closet is drawn open from the right all you can think of is what a cruel world this is.

Though when the moonlit sky cascades pitiful light inside of the glum space you don't expect to see the silhouette of black hair intervening it past the muzzle pressed snug to the cold-sweat of your forehead. If anything, you couldn't ignore the clash of night and day between the pressing indent of the gun and the look of horror that streamlined through the dip of his brows to the gape of his split lips; cracked dry with dried blood. You wonder if he finally saw through to you before the gun was slipped back in to his pocket following the shut of the closet.

"Nothing here." Accented, different and more mature from when your ears last picked up on it—like sandalwood—but nonetheless his.

"Goddamnit—just search!" Cramped palms criss-cross flat against your mouth to muffle the instability of your skipped breath; a heart racing faster than your limp body faint with fear could keep up. He gave you a chance in this plummeting slum, remembered the nights he would ease your suffering a little lighter on the broad of his shoulder; in your own little world. And the dagger of each hiss of his words as that shoulder became harder to reach with every step away from the rocking swings.

"Jay. The window's open. She must've left through there." You listen to each scramble of footsteps as they ascend towards the highest window of the attic and back downstairs in a huddle—gangsters, hitmen, you're not sure how to describe either of the lot exactly but you know well enough from growing up around here that they don't pull expressions like that. Not terrified when their finger is dancing around the trigger, not regretful when blood is smeared in clawed streaks down their ironed shirts.

When you believe they've all left from the silence upstairs you creak the closet open—

Click!— "Don't say a fucking word." That same pressure again, gun hammered to your forehead with a gloved hand soaked in rouge shutting you up with the sickly-sweet mix of coffee and metal. "Attagirl. Don't think we're all buddy-buddy like we used to be because I let you off this once. I'm already tying my shoes on the powerlines because of this and it doesn't mean jack to me whether I pull the trigger or not."

Bullshit Sim Jaeyun. His lips still quiver the same as they did on the nights the two of you had to share a meal to keep each other from starving. Still the same habit of focusing on his hands—equipped with a gun that shouldn’t have been in his life, in his possession—whenever he was caught up in a lie.

The glock falls on loose arms as he rushes to lag behind the flock of his folk. What a breakthrough Sim Jaeyun. It was like yesterday when he packed his belongings out of hatred for exactly what he's grown up to be now; a cold blooded murderer.

Ten minutes after they supposedly leave you search for the only bag you own under the landfill of books, broken wood and tilted drawers. The calm after the storm the saying goes, yet despite every hurricane and typhoon of depravity you've endured not once have you been embraced by nirvana, or at least something close to it. You can't stay here, they'll come back for you and Humphrey— so you pack all that's left intact in the attic: a pocket knife, some gum to suffice for the night, a flashlight and the savings you've earned alongside him.

Correction from earlier; they'll come back for you now that they're done with Humphrey. Two careful steps down the footprint dirtied carpet of the stairs and you'll be granted a welcoming gift at the very bottom. The old man's greyed hairs are tainted with that identical sickly-sweet stench reeking from Jaeyun’s shirt, mangled on the floor with his head twisted beyond human capability as he slumps on the last step—a wound far too grizzly to describe as a killing, a butchering more suitable to put it in to words.

The sharp tang of iron permeates the air in to a mingle of molding walls that sang shallow obituaries with every gut-wrenching step. Smells of death. Rotting smells no different to the bodies slumped in the streets—bony to the touch—before the authorities would find a useless Saturday to finally sweep them away a month later like disposing of crimped litter. And you hate to equilibrate your sympathy to the severity of their suffering but you've never encountered vexation so pure in anger to any other wrongdoing towards you that seeps through every pore of your skin in your trembling state.

Like thugs they treat your kind like a pigpen that they can loiter feed to for their own twisted amusement. The blood that you shed dirtier than anyone else's, saturated with impurities you cannot cleanse as dislodged milk teeth of your innocence bury themselves in the cavities of their hollow hearts. You see it clearer now, that Jaeyun no longer aspires to live the life of a good man nor does he seek comfort in the stars as you still do. He seeks an escape from his own torment with palms painted vermillion. Even if that meant rinsing the blood of people he looked up to the most from white cloths and hands unworthy of salvation.

It must be embedded into your nature to scamper in the most rodent-like way through weaving settlements built on rusting stilts and congested flats that loomed and twisted over themselves— a living labyrinth hemmed in by warped wood of knife carvings and tagging as patched rooftops slumped with a solemn drop of corrosive rain. Every boy on the street, still slack in their ripped shorts and soot-stormed shirts passed down from their brothers, trudges back home no earlier than 1 here. When it’s quieter, and the only voice that he can hear shouting is the soap opera playing whistling tunes as their mothers tend to yesterday’s broth for tomorrow’s supper. They’ll be entranced with ambitious eyes glued to the Hollywood dream they live through their television screens; carefree, they have it easy, and that’s all anyone born and dumped in to this manhole of a town can wish for.

It’s nearly impossible to climb this ladder to success when the silver-spooned are lifted halfway up this metaphorical climbing frame built on wealth and you’ve not even reached the first step with the mere nickels you stand upon for height. Hell, there’s not even a ladder offered to you at all— a splintered rope to cling on to that can only snap and drag you down further inside the abyss of the shunned. You can dream and beg every night in your unheard prayers but don’t wish for too much, oh no you shouldn’t get your fragile hopes up too early. For in this lifetime you can only get so far with the face of a killer knit between your brows and sunken into your drab eyes that weep for Humphrey as you slam your back in contact with the bus stop’s scratched plastic.

Crinkled greens are tucked into your sleeve as you peek for the headlights of the later shuttle buses through a low slipped hood over your panging head. 250 dollars rolled up messily by a rubber band; your life savings with Humphrey that’s always being cut into for drinks, dinner and debt, safely transferred and tucked from the empty cookie jar in the cupboard into your zip-up. Life savings that could easily be what one of them spend in a day, in their fireplace-warmed homes as obnoxious laughs fall from their wine-sipping lips, and half of it will be blown into thin air once you buy a ticket for the furthest you can go with the shackles of your past in this nobody-town.

You want to melt into the stitching of your clothes. The scent of Humphrey still lingers on the threading and your sobs are abrasive to your inflamed throat once tears become difficult to form in your red-stained eyes, the cries drowned out by the honking of a shuttlebus slamming on squeaky brakes as it skids towards your stop. Empty, then again at this time of night anyone who’s leaving to the city is up to no good, and those who are up to no good would much rather not be travelling in a dingy bus like this unless they want the cuffs on their wrists on the spot.

“Where to?” As you tread onto the bus the scent of lemon wipes and chemical disinfectant burns at your nose; scrubbed sore from tears and snot, and you don’t bother to question it nor look up at the driver past his lips as you mumble silently. “How far can I go with a hundred?” His chuckles ring irritatingly in your ear like he’s never heard anything funnier.

“There’s not much options with only a hundred. That’s bound to get you as far as Coles. Never got on the shuttle, have you?” Well, if a hundred could only get you as far as a 30-minute walk to Coles then there’s no reason to deny that financially you can’t have been on one before. “120 where can tha—”

“150 and I’ll take you to Alton an hour from here. Maybe half if I speed.” His straightforward cash-grab of your desperation boils shock all over your face as you flit through the crisp bills inside your sleeve; reluctantly shoving it forwards before you thumped your head on the windows of your seat towards the very back at an attempt to recover your much needed rest.

This jerk of a driver just has to be somewhere though because he speeds double the limit on flimsy and flat wheels that jump with each hitch of the road all the while laughing in sheer amusement. And you can’t help but stomach the unease within you as the driver laughs periodically in thin air, ignores all the traffic rules without a care in the world about the cameras or losing his job and you’re certain that bus drivers don’t usually bargain you for a pricier ticket to a destination that doesn’t read on the routes labelled on the bus. Coles…Perkins…Marinslow…Bay…along the list of viable destinations not a single read Alton.

“Where are you taki—”

“Here’s your stop in a record…32 minutes.” Suspicious in how quick he is to shut down any questions as you walk down to the front of the shuttlebus to stare at another slum no different to yours aside from the brickwork buildings and underground nightlife running through it. He can’t seriously drop you off somewhere that’s identical to what you wanted to leave so terribly. “There’s no bus stop here Mister.” That same irritating chuckle that vibrates lowly in uvula erupts from him and for the first time you lift your hood a little to judge that smug look on his lips. Male, much younger than you were expecting with a mole sharply dotted next to his nose with precision— deadly handsome in a sense you couldn’t describe.

“If I took you to the bus stop where the floor’s made of marble in Alton, you’re looking at sleeping on the streets for the night. So I’m doing you a favor sweetheart.” His words are laced with poison as he wets the bottom of his lips and you’re dying to tell him that you’ll be sleeping on the streets no matter where you go. With only a 100 to your name to keep yourself going before you could find a job in this stark city.

“A passenger of mine from earlier dropped this. Ruby. Not sure how real it is but you could probably pawn that for a hefty price. And keep it on your finger unless you want that goldmine to slip through the holes of your pockets.” The male slips a silver ring jeweled with a beautiful ruby gem in to your cold frosted palms which you swallow your pride to accept because it’s better than nothing to work with when your stomach growls with insatiable hunger. “Thanks.” Is all you can offer with your slim gratitude but you’re quick to run out of the automatic doors when you spot the small blood splatter missed by the Kleenex wipes, starchy crimson stained on the rails that reels you into an episode of gags as you disappear past one alleyway into another; where your two feet can take you.

Heaved breaths slow down in your chest when your stamina starts to give up on your throbbing ankles with a searching hand groping the indents of the rocky brick for balance. You’ve reached another endless alleyway with a protruding slab of concrete for a makeshift doorstep, one that you could mistake for a king sized bed plush with the softest duvet and mattress you could think of from how your head spins with exhaustion.

In the mechanical roar of passerby vehicles in this much busier city you find temporary rest on the miniscule surface of the block that carried the weight of you and your worries, strengthless eyelids fluttering shut into deep slumber as you try to accommodate the rough scratch of it against your skin.

It’s healing. Better to have the streamlined breeze of these squeezed alleyways cool the fire of your head than convince yourself not to dwell on Humphrey, the driver tonight, and Jaeyun. But how can you distract yourself from Jaeyun when all you can remember is the same disgust rooted inside his repentance? On that night by the swings when he spat those lies with a face playing nice you should have known better what he really thought of you with those fingers curled tighter around his suitcase, pleading to leave, than the curl of his reluctant arms around your pitiful self. You’re still met with that same old coldness to the new profanities in his speech, and you let those profanities stir your mind into fatigue that eventually transitions into sleep.

“Sorry sweetheart, this one might hurt.” The impact of the wooden baton swung to the backside of your resting head leaves a trail of scarlet which will be left unnoticed upon other pools of reds around the manlier arms heaved under yours; the pain barely tinging in your knocked state.

“Be more gentle next time Kai, that’s a girl in your arms.”

Criminal conversations are shrouded by the explicit of criminal exchanges that run through the fissures of the eroded brick and seep through drains pouring blood-washed water in this peril-estranged city. From above the hills where it’s visible how the flats leaned into the labyrinths of alleyways; a white motorbike wipes the sand and dirt into thin air as it halts.

“Get a move on, Sunghoon.” The male leant against the peeling paint of the shuttlebus discards of his gloves down below onto an empty street. A small souvenir for whoever may be unlucky enough to find it that ParadoXXX aren’t leaving with another round of bloodied noses, they’ll emerge from these slums with Eternally crawling at their feet— sights he’s desperate for as he straddles the back of the motorbike. “I knew I’d find her by the shuttlebus stops. Heeseung’s ought to introduce his cousin to me after this.”

Cold and mucky water launches and drenches the hair that now sticks and swirls on your face. It trickles down your lips that split apart into shocked gasps and choked coughs on the linen shoved as a gag halfway down your throat; the back of your head numbed to the touch with a dull ache you can’t soothe, nor rub with your hands tied double-knotted behind the mahogany backrest of the chair.

“Ah Shit— the girl’s awake. How’s the head?” Restrained legs try their best to kick and squirm for even the littlest movement prohibited by the coarse rope cutting the blood flow to your feet. Two men in the room study your panicked self with cautious— preying on their successful hunt already with their shrewd eyes. The one who asks you the question leaves the dip of his seat in a tattered sandbag, smudged eyeliner to match the choppy layers of his long hair streaked with blonde, yawning with outstretched arms like he’s been in the same position for hours. “Ah-ah girl. If you’re any smarter you should know not to kick and make a fuss. I’ll let you speak so be good.”

Calloused hands brush the wet of your lip, pressing against the fat to widen your mouth as he digs two blood-soiled fingers to pinch at the linen cloth. “Ack— cough— fucking bastard let me go!”

“If feisty is how you want to play, be my guest. Or, you could sit still for— 10 seconds? Anytime soon he’ll be here.” The room stinks of rain dew from the leak in the ceiling; blotched stains on the basement’s walls of fluids you’d rather block out of your head and keep your mouth shut for if you knew what’s best. And the male busy brandishing his pistol doesn’t even spare you a glance through his ash blonde ends of hair— finding his time more worthy of that kill-count multiplier than your measly life.

Struck right in the centre of the wall behind you is the concave of a staircase that leads further up than you can see, but you can make out the all too familiar stampede of footsteps that stick to the steps with murderous intent emanating from each one of them; those men again…back at the attic with Jaeyun.

“Awake? Sorry about the surprise little-one, Kai here is still learning to wield a bat but I guess he needs to learn the difference between knocking-out and intended murder.” Slicked back hair with gel-slathered strands are left messily at the front of the speaking male’s face as if he tried to make himself look presentable, failing in the aspect once you look down at the stylistic choice of rips and holes in their clothes— holes that you hate the sight of.

Gangsters; don’t care how they look to others as long as they’ve got something to slaughter to stoke a laugh, don’t worry about anything as long as they have a gun to pave their way on these vulnerable streets. These lot don’t wear flashy gold chains stolen from the high-end jewellery branch up north. But they certainly aren’t in any state to all be wearing the same knitted off shoulder with holes boring into each patch of fabric; yarn and thread hanging loose to fabricate some sort of struggle—like they’d know anything about real struggle. You don’t need to go out of your way to find some niche designer who’ll make clothes that would belong on people like you; holes stretched from wear and tear every time it would get caught on the edges of hotel trash cans as you dug for the crust of toast served during English breakfast; holes ripped from the seams by the persecuting shoves and brutal scratches of street rats no different to yourself. Never have you ever laid your hands on anyone to be deserving of the title ‘Murderer’, and here these gangsters are swinging their knives recklessly to kill for the rush of adrenaline for that title you so badly want to scrub from your tampered skin, drain from your blood and wash from your face.

“If you wanted me, why would you go for Humphrey? Nothing disgusts me more than gangsters who don’t understand shit.”

Triggered by your loud mouth the forged smirk of hospitality on his face melts into a scowl the slick-back had been hiding from the start, presuming he’s the leader with how his followers swallow their own fear when his jaw ticks with annoyance.

“Listen little-one. I don’t know who the fuck Humphrey is but I’ve got nothing to do with it, and nobody likes a girl who cries wolf, do they? I’m only after that ruby ring on your finger. It’s beautiful, I’d slot it on a dainty finger too if only it weren’t stolen from its rightful owner.” Your jaw slacks in unison to every drip of venom to his words of defamation. Once again, you’ve let yourself become the scapegoat for the transgression of others— a ditch for them to dig their offenses into further under a pile of lies so you could keep it. You’re always the culprit without an alibi regardless of the suspect walking past in blind sight with the knife; the easiest to blame; the easiest to get away with pointing fingers at because to the lucky, people born with nothing but the damning of their parents for giving life to them are nothing more than a scrape under the rug.

“That traitor Jaeyun told me nothing would happen—”  Swift and calculated you’re met with an audience of artillery: a dagger jabbed under your chin that could skew you if you dared to open your mouth too wide, a gun of some macabre holt to the back of your head loaded for trigger and the one who supposedly swung at you in the first place now with a glock handled with expertise in his hands instead. Their ringleader’s scoff transcends into maniacal laughter comparable to a madman— laughs you’d only hear in exaggerated films that used to be broadcasted on those late nights with Humphrey except this time it doesn’t feel so much like an act.

“W—what’s this all about?” You scatter your brain for words hissed through gritted teeth in case the dagger really would pierce through.

“You’ve made this a quicker process for us than we thought.” The boisterous laughter of the man with smudged eyeliner shakes you to the core with a chilling spite that doesn’t leave as it circulates to every nerve to instigate dread within you. “They’re not very good at hiding their insiders, you don’t usually expect such poor work from ParadoXXX— unless this is a setup from those fuckers.”

“Jake wouldn’t send any insider to our side of the city like this, she calls him Jaeyun, she’s more than a simple partner in dirty business.”

Jake…Sim Jaeyun. None of It makes perfect literal sense in your head but you’re not tied or sworn by an oath to Jake or whatever alias he wants to go on his new trek of life, the name dies on the end of your tongue where it doesn’t belong as you try to plead your case through brimming tears at the gun still locked to the back of you.

“W—wait I don’t know where the ring is from! —" You try to remain calm even with all the fingers pointed in your direction however with each probing reload of bullets into the brandished pistol in the corner of this sullen room your strong headed voice falters into half formed sobs.

“Drop the weapons. I hate it when people sob and wail like they’ve got actual shit going on,” the male with split hair from earlier who paid you no mind finally speaks. His voice tuned slightly higher and melodic but tainted with the unwelcoming edge to his tone. “Let her speak and you might get the intel on ParadoXXX you’re after.”

“Hah— as expected of you Taehyun, you’re really the coordinator of our little team here. Checked for explosives? Weapons?” Taehyun, it’s one thing to be complimented by a ringleader of this cohort. It’s another that he’s able to retract all of the weapons targeted against you with a simple sentence. And as he nods to each of the questions the slicked-back male only laughs in horrific pride after snatching the dagger from the calloused hands of his gang member.

“Bravo Taehyun. My aide over there’s given you a chance so spill everything you know about ParadoXXX— and don’t even think about lying your way out of it because if there’s anything I despise the most it would be a lying scoundrel of their kids play gang.” The crazed male licks along the flat surface of the dagger with his tongue. The taste of dried blood fused with metal lingers on his senses as he struts towards you with prideful shoulders and a blank poker face, continuing to clean the dagger before laying it flat against your cheek with a wicked smile. “Go on darling, speak, and make it quick because I’ve got a deal to make.”

“I don’t know anything about this ParadoXXX guy you’re on about. And— and this ring I was gifted by some driver on the shuttlebus to Alton. He didn’t tell me it was stolen I swear I wouldn’t have taken it if it was but he said I could pawn it for a couple of bills! Then I spotted…blood and I ran all the way past a bunch of alleyways and now I’m roped into this whole kidnpping!” Attempting to stifle any more snotty sobs before Taehyun asks for the weapons to be held up to you again you sputter out everything you could. Although your answer doesn’t delight the male at all who flips the dagger in his palm to inflict the sharpest point by your cheek, “And Jake? Or should I say Jaeyun?”

You hate bringing up the past more than anything. It brews the nostalgia of a time you wish you could return to at the sacrifice of your heart, your limbs, whatever they want. It frustrates you that you can’t hold onto the poor rags of your mother’s clothes as she takes you on a penniless sightseeing trip around the slums; pointing to the different monuments of drying racks and squashed strawberries by the local market selling week old fruits. You can’t relive the nights you’d spend with Jaeyun who had to cry for you to accompany him home so that his parents would stop the bickering while you were under their collapsing roof of his home, trying to stop gossip from spreading about their situation.

But Jake. Jake had been perfectly fine to walk his own line with his new friends who find it the greatest joy of life to make the world more cruel and unfair than it already has been towards him. He wouldn’t think twice before pulling that trigger to your head last night if one of these folks were present. Be hostile. Be nasty. So you let his name spill from dry lips even if that meant he’d be in grave danger.

“We were friends in the same neighbourhood when we were younger. You— or someone, sent him and some others and fucking killed Humphrey instead of me and stormed the house, psycho bastards.” The male lets go of the dagger as it rattles on the ground by your feet, you’d opt to stab it into his knee while he’s kneeling down at eye-level but the beady eyes watching in on your exchange of information makes it stupid to do so.

“Good. What I wanted to hear. Soobin you spotted Ni-ki’s motorcycle parked next to a shuttlebus last night didn’t you? You’re lucky that Sunghoon who drove you here didn’t slit your throat on the spot; he’s famous for that around this side of the city, but clumsy in his work.”

Vile. Explicit. Gruesome. It’s like he has nothing better to say other than the grim details of his crimes and his circle and it sickens your stomach like no other that he can laugh off the lives of others without a care in the world.

“Would you be a darling and hand Soobin behind you the ring? He’ll do a nice clean before returning it to me. This baby right there on your finger? 15 million. You can live comfortably with that for the rest of your days, if you had lost it, you wouldn’t be on the receiving end of such a forgiving fate.” Fifteen million. That would’ve been enough to settle the debt you and Humphrey owed 100 fold, the kind of money you can’t fathom in your head when you’ve grown used to dimes and quarters in your palm most of the time rather than a proper bill. And here this heartless man is, losing and wavering it in your face like it’s just part of another collection of his; albeit stolen.

“Oh— and we weren’t the ones to kill your boyfriend or whatever, that would be ParadoXXX’s doing. And you should have common sense to know that no proper leader trusts the basis of a couple words between white lies. So I’ll give you the option here. Eternally will offer you a place to eat and stay in one our let outs given you slept on the streets last night, in exchange that you work for us to gather valuable intel on Jake— or should I say, Lee Heeseung’s little gang to prove you’re not an insider, hm? Otherwise we only have one other option and I can’t promise that you’ll leave in one whole piece.”

Primal fear and confusion flood and suffocate you in a body of water you can’t tread, that narrows in on your airways which hyperventilate in staggered breaths at a bid for survival, leaving you exposed and stripped of your dreamt freedom here in Alton in an instant. You’re frozen still by the weight of his words; a threat dressed as a choice. A choice dressed as freedom that you’re well aware is meddling in the palm of his hands like a puppet on strings as he toys with every frightened expression on your drying tear-stained face with a lift of his lips.

“W—what do I have to do if I work under you?” Even if you try to argue a different option you know you’ll only be met with a muzzle to your mouth here instead of the piercing gazes of the neighbours back home, and you know not to get too greedy. To be fair you couldn’t have gotten as greedy as everyone else when you can’t have anything anyways. There aren’t wallets to nick or tills to rob in a store that accepts mainly handfuls of coins, no boyfriend(s) to hang around with and date when you can never be too sure of their true intentions and no banquet to feast on when the entirety of the slums live on a carton of milk and dry crackers. And even now there’s no way for this man to pity you with a choice of neither when you’re constantly on the losing end of the stick—now to blame for working with a criminal organisation you’ve never heard of.

“Taehyun’s taken a liking to you, so I’ll send you out on a business deal with him. It’s light, all that’s needed to be done is act stupid in front of Heeseung’s circle since they’re obviously interested in you for whatever reason, as long as you’re willing to dirty your hands.”

The ending of his words doesn’t threaten you quite as much. Given that you’ve dirtied your hands in the filthiest water on a face soiled by the genetics of a monster you can’t be rid of, and that’s far worse than digging your own grave with the lives of other plunging men.

Being thrown into a nest with Taehyun is awkward for a start when a couple minutes ago you were pleading for your life confessing everything you know in the span of an hour. And Taehyun’s silent attitude doesn’t help either as he finishes wiping down the ringleader’s gun— who you’ve learnt to be called Yeonjun though he prefers YJ. He had sent the both of you into Taehyun’s workroom within their hideout; humiliating to still have the rope bound to your hands, in precaution that you try anything grizzly with the split hair male you followed behind, but it’s better than having your sore feet strapped to the bone to the legs of such a flimsy chair as well.

“You’re like Humphrey. You don’t like to speak much.”

“I don’t like being compared to your dead boyfriend.” That’s just how blunt Taehyun is with his words. No sugarcoating, no beating around the bush, the last person you’d seek to tell someone a loved one has died— to say the least he doesn’t care for a lot other than himself.

“Humphrey was my guardian. So are you going to inject me with lethal drugs or something now?”

“Enough questions. I don’t work with people who run their mouths faster than they can run.” For a gangster he sure does know a lot more than just the killing, drugs and gambling you’d expect back home, a tattoo gun gripped in his hand as he swabs the patch of skin Yeonjun ordered to be inked with their mark. “It’ll fade once I’m done with my role won’t it?” You’re already associated to a convict, it’s not preferable to be linked to a gang too.

His workroom is nothing short of a rundown shack— less exquisite in taste compared to the gambling headquarters Beomgyu, with the smudged eyeliner, frequents down a couple alleyways. There’s a blend of security in the bulletproof drywalls and the hesitancy of the countless rifles and handguns scattered over the concrete floor in piles alongside Cuban cigarette butts and liquor bottles discarded of lazily. Cheap liquor, that you’d find yourself bringing back to Humphrey on the days he refused to eat for you to stay plump and healthy, even gangsters with wads of stolen cash prefer the taste of a rushed high.

Needles eject dark ink on the skin of your back. Stings like a motherfucker. But any winces you let out might annoy Taehyun into equipping his hands with the boxcutter in his pocket, and you can never really know what gangsters are thinking in the moment but it’s never heartwarming nor pleasant to figure out. But a question plucks at your hair repeatedly, itching to ask him why he’d choose this path when he’d be better off inking beautiful designs onto soft skin for life, a possible crossing over an invisible boundary you shouldn’t step in but you do.

“Why choose to become part of a gang? I don’t understand.” The buzz of the machine halts and you bite on your tongue knowing you’ve done exactly what you knew you shouldn’t have; push Taehyun’s buttons.

“Eternally’s an organisation. A criminal one I’ll admit because it’s not a run-of-the-mill job, but it’s nothing like those ParadoXXX kids who go around spinning knives because they’ve got their affluent fathers to pay the fines and bribe the authorities for them. They think it’s impressive to be involved in this kind of life not knowing the reality of it— outside of these streets they’re nobodies without their guns. It’s only so far that their teenage knuckles can fend off a dozen bullets before their nails are digging into the soil.” Taehyun leans back in his seat; a cigarette pulled from a fresh white pack which slots between his lips like a puzzle, letting his own unclear thoughts fade into the smoke that blows a diaphanous grey under the dim overhead bulb’s lighting.

“Eternally’s not like that. None of us chose to follow down this obvious dead-end but where else can we run to when the world’s shut all it’s doors on us, except the gateway to hell at the cost of nothing compared to the gateway of Heaven that costs everything we can’t afford. It’s easier to sin than pretend to be some sort of Solomon and I’m fine with that. You can curse me in front of my face all you want—I can’t deny that we’re terrible people. We still kill, we steal, we do all kinds of messed up shit that would land us in the chair. What’s there to be proud of?” The drag of his cigarette is longer this time, a large exhale falling from his lips as he rests his eyes, blonde ends falling into place to cover them with the lean back of his head.

“I ran away from home at 17. Stupid, but this is the most freedom I’ve had since. My old man’s a politician, started sleazing around with his secretary and was caught. Got a divorce not long after and I was already on my one-way ticket to live with my mother. She was never in the right mental state to try be a mother to me despite what she pleaded in the eyes of the law; I’d often find her whispering that man’s name for nights on end, sleepwalking, begging, crying. It was when she held the knife she used for that night’s stew right at me during one of her manic episodes that I decided to leave. Mistook me for all I was known for; my father who I take after and her expression from that night still haunts me. I can smoke and take these drugs all I want to lose my train of thought but I can’t forget those eyes because they see something in me that I can’t get rid of. They see some sort of beast that I have to force myself to live with for the rest of my descending life. I met Yeonjun after a quick taxi ride with a stolen credit card. He was born in these very slums and never learnt proper manners, his home was often the target of thugs and so he had to learn how to defend himself early on and eventually the rest were all taken in by him at their lowest to form Eternally. He’s morally not a good man by any means but I owe my life to him in these gritty edges of Alton. And now I’ve let my mouth go on a tangent. The etch is basically done just let it set. There’s also blood stuck to your hair, Soobin’s not the best at patching up.”

The shut of the male’s eyes as he basks in the heat of the smoke is your sign to leave the room even if you wanted to say a couple more words; offer him a part of you to soothe the hurt you both share. Though at the end of the day he’s still a criminal. One that you shouldn’t get deeply involved with at that, so you stand at the exit leading back to the even longer concrete tunnel to say something at least.

“Sorry if I pushed you too far.”

You’ve grown to learn a lot of things as Eternally’s decoy. That really this isn’t an escape from home but merely just a substitute for it. Children in the alleyways scatter and play games of hide-and-seek from dusk to dawn when their melancholy mothers can’t find the heart in them to listen to the nagging and pleads of their starved children. In fact it’s probably common for them to wish that their children don’t return from their ventures out in the alleyways—one less stomach to feed for these unaspiring mothers that spend their days glancing outside the windows of brick walls and missing posters while they daydream of marigold fields and a diamond wedding ring. You learnt that from Beomgyu, one of the unlucky ducklings to have been on the receiving end of his mother’s flower picking.

Earth is bigoted in the favour of those who’ve never had to lay a finger to live somewhat comfortably. The group that the unfortunate envy the most aren’t the elite who interchange between million dollar cars every weekend but the people who live under the safe blanket of normality; a dream that’s not far to achieve in comparison to the conglomerates but an impossible feat for the slums where you can barely make a name for yourself outside of crime.

The same news channels play on the same outdated television screens here. Reporters and politicians cry and lament at the cruelty of deprivation in their skyrise buildings and penthouses while their carefully planned speeches reach the hearts of the already wealthy than touch your reality.

You may pour all your blood, sweat and tears kissing the feet of statues knelt in prayer to ask for a chance and you’ll be offered the grace of a couple blessings in your name for good health and a prospering life that will never be fulfilled, but you’ll never be exempt of the blasphemous features on your face derived from your father, no matter how much you pray.

The next time you’re to see Taehyun is late this afternoon when he’s come back from his robbery stunt on the high street with Kai, neither of you exchanged words since the conversation but your mind reflects back on it more than you’d like. Both of you are in this turmoil of a flaw neither of you can fix, a product of faces you don’t want to recognise; and here you are following in the footsteps of a criminal, guess bad seeds will always be rotten to the core.

“Adjusting well down here? It’s not the best but it’s better than anything.” Soobin chews on the loaf of bread he stole from a small beginner’s bakery, the food pushed to the side of his cheek blowing in disproportion to the other while he rolls a blunt stuffed with clusters of flaked green with careful hands. “It’s no different to where I came from. Slums can’t really get any more different when they’re all lacking in the same things.”

“I didn’t understand a single word of what you just said but I’m guessing it’s smart, you and Taehyun would work well together.” Beomgyu outstretches his legs in the discomfort of his seat, pulling out a deck of cards with a whistling tune from his pursed lips that he slams onto the table. “You know how to gamble little-one?”

“She’s not gambling with any cheaters like you.” That melodic voice you recognise— Taehyun’s back earlier than expected, a backpack of stolen goods filled with luxurious pastries you’d never dream of touching your tongue wrapped in pink ribbon packaging as he dumped them upside down onto the small table. “Awh— what a bore. I was looking forward to winning!” Beomgyu snags a couple of pastries for himself…more than a couple, gathered in his arms as he wipes the drool leaking from lips.

It's hard to believe that any of them are capable of stabbing a foe in cold blood— excluding Kai. Despite the sweet smile that plays on his lips you caught him dragging a corpse beaten beyond recognition inside one of the many storage rooms you’re forbidden from entering. He churns your stomach grotesquely with his wolf in sheep’s clothing act, and you find it more difficult than anything to return a smile when all your head can trace back to is the unreadable sunken look in his authentic eyes.

“You shouldn’t be smoking a blunt in front of her Soobin. She’s not one of us, don’t let her pick up on bad habits.” A thoughtful gesture it is however, you’re unhappy that you’re being outcasted in this little clique of theirs. You truly didn’t belong anywhere, even with the bloodiest of criminals and that sticks in the back of your head without you even noticing. Better than them or unworthy of their brotherhood your 3 days of staying at Eternally’s base hasn’t earnt you, you’re not quite sure.

“You’re coming with me today. Tabs on Sunghoon says he’ll be by the brothels looking for you— there’s a reason he’s dropped you off on this side of town and you’re bound to see a lot of shit you won’t like. But you have to suck it up or else I’ll have to finish you off without their help.” Trailing behind him with a bowed head you spot the splatter of crimson staining the back of his shoe, fresh blood. He’s been up to more than just stealing. But it’s not unusual for a criminal to lie and you’re in no position to pry him further about it as you tread down dingy hallways into Yeonjun’s private lounge.

Inside is lavish; velvet fitted couches, a small island table stacked with barely sipped champagne and tiled walls framed with expensive art that doesn’t suit to your taste but flattering amongst the gold detailing of the ceiling. The male sinks back into his seat with a woman climbed over his lap sucking maroon love bites down his neck as he grips the plush of her ass through satin fabric, a sight that flusters you to witness but you can’t take your eyes off of them.

“Be a darling and wait outside for me,” Picking up her heels the woman leaves in a hurry so her face can’t be seen by the two of you waiting at the door out of shame. Two fingers beckon you forward and suddenly the weight of your feet start to drag from their spot by the door, sweat pearling at your forehead under Yeonjun’s gaze you can’t familiarise yourself with. “Homer’s. ParadoXXX are headed to that brothel most likely in search of you— they don’t think very highly of us do they? Thinking we sold you off to a lair like that…if we really did want to send you off elsewhere I’d at least put you in better hands at Bridleway.” He stumps the butt of his cigarette onto an ashy tray filled with mounts of nicotine-depleted cigars— ashes flitting into the air as he does so.

“Open fire tonight?” The terminologies exchanged between the two men don’t click in your head yet you can make out the severity of what they’re planning from their sinister tones and how Taehyun’s eyes slender with deep thought. “Open fire outside of the brothel, I don’t want to visit on Sunday with bullet holes in the window. Though If you see Heeseung don’t hesitate to shoot that fucker in the head,” Yeonjun inspects the glass of champagne before drinking it in heavy gulps with a red starting to blush over his face, “I expect nothing less of you brother, so little one, it’s on you to bring back a dead man for me.” His chuckles spill in your ears like gasoline and burns with a sinister flame as he orders the two of you out, waving for you to shower before you appear so you can play the role of an actual hostess there and not the woman who cleans the fluids of the aftermath.

You strip yourself of your borrowed clothes— Humphrey’s old zip up in the wash while your threaded shorts were discarded in a disorderly matter by the community-built landfill down one of those sketchy alleyways. Warm water tickles the goosebumps leftover from Yeonjun’s peptalk and cascades down the dip of your chest in one smooth stream; a long time since you last had a warm shower after a good few years of winter lakes poured over your body. Lost in the feeling of the comforting droplets of water you imagine it to be similar to the warmth of an arm you’re yet to experience since your life turned for the worse at 16, humming loudly in your head to the point you don’t notice the click of the door as it creaks open.

“Nice humming little-one but we don’t have time for rubber duck baths—”

“Oh my god !! Get out!” Forgetting the dangerous capabilities of the criminal standing by the door you launch a vanilla-scented bar of soap at Taehyun who catches it amusedly with his unoccupied hand. “I’ve seen it all at the brothel we’re headed to so don’t bother feeling shameful when you’re being housed by criminals this very moment.” Despite his words your hands refuse to leave your chest and between your thighs— at the end of the day he’s still a man and Humphrey’s taught you to be careful around guys like Taehyun, even if they offer you the sweetest apple their forbidden souls can bear.

“The clothes of the prostitute from earlier. Consider it somewhat of a gift from Yeonjun. Said she wouldn’t need them by the end anyway.” Taehyun drawls out the repetition of his leader’s words with a drawl, his lips curved into a smirk as he drinks in your embarrassed state. And as unexpectedly as he walked in, he walked right back out to let you finish your shower cut short, disappearing into the hallways you’ll struggle to find him in later.

Meanwhile on the highway of the city’s fastest roads, a male with cherry red hair glowers at the mirror of his driver’s car, knuckles decorated with brass clenched tight into an agitated fist that slams at the window in heated fury that shakes the vehicle vigorously.

“Fucking idiot Sunghoon. What does he think he’s doing sending off that man’s daughter into that manwhore’s hands?” His voice is crisp and an octave lower that activates a trembling mechanism in his driver’s hands that start to swivel at the steering wheel.

“Hoon reassured us that Yeonjun wouldn’t be interested in her, he handed her the ring in hopes that she’d find the brothel to exchange it for some food and drink. Knocked out cold by the littlest on of their crew apparently but she was left on those very streets in front of the brothel just like that.” The blonde coughs in hopes that he’d relieve his boss’ lament, turning on the air conditioning a little stronger to cool off the hot-headedness radiating form the backseat.

“They better have left her at that damn brothel. I want to be the one she pleads for mercy at the hands of my gun, not his weaklings.”

“Say she isn’t at the brothel, you have a reason to pick a bone with Choi for toying with what’s yours Heeseung, it’s not a bad idea.”

“Not a bad idea at all, Jake.”

At the latest hours of night passing into morning, the Brothel is bustling in splendid business as men unzip the fly of their naturally ripped jeans upon entering. Homer’s was discreetly hidden behind a rusted door down one of the various alleys you’d find yourself hopelessly lost in, swamped in poorly done graffiti by the hands of teens who’ve never had the privilege to learn and dumpsters that overrode the streets with decay and rot.

The city held its breath as the two of you entered separately to fulfil your designated roles— you’re supposed to encounter a handful of ParadoXXX tonight in your sleek silk dress snatched off the prostitute and the deadly pigment of danger on your lips; all you need to do is lure them into the booth Taehyun’s in, and he’ll handle it from there.

Walking down the stairwell that led to the brothel acted as a final warning that you wouldn’t return back to those streets anytime soon. Down in this choking mix of cigarette smoke where morality hung stale in the air it’s far more shielded with the gang-prevalent back streets than the leering of the rapacious men slouched in velvet-padded booths.

Obscenities are shared in a network branched with bullet-stocked briefcases, dirtied with smuggled stacks of cash that’ll diminish throughout the night, and laced with fine white powder divided into lines. Red lanterns hung low from the ceiling; heavily burdened by the weight of wrongdoing and fractured conscience of those who dared to quench the devil’s thirst, pools of seductive lighting casting over the silhouettes of bare bodies.

Stationed by the bar is a male tailored in a black suit stained with whiskey. Sweat lined under his collar and eyeing your movement towards him with hostility. The last thing you’d want in this faultless plan is for the bartender to run his mouth like the cheap alcohol he pours in front of bottles of luxury imported wine robbed from the port— he doesn’t recognise you as one of the prostitutes slack with dull eyes, so you slide across the counter an envelope emblemed with the three rotating crosses matching the temporary tattoo on your back. A wordless conversation but it seems as though he’s understood your request— the emblem is enough to keep him quiet for the rest of his days if he values his own life, and hence he permits you to linger around the bar, swirling a quarter-drunk shot in your hand.

Taehyun is situated in the upper level of the collapsing brothel— a balcony view of where you were stood as a woman stripped down to her only pair of inexpensive lingerie beside him; running her sharp nails along his tatted-arm of words she never learnt to read. Clutched in his hand is the pistol he refined for hours in the workroom. Too small for a scope but his hands were sculpted to fit seamlessly to the trigger and grip with professionalism, and when he’s focused he’ll never miss a shot. In ten minutes Beomgyu and Kai are expected to be armed with their own dreadful guns and a unit of knives at the back entrance with a few underlings; you’ll lure ParadoXXX outside and he’ll find himself busy on gathering the intel from the bartender within that slot. By the end of tonight he’ll leave with one of their heads laid in a gift basket of the prettiest flowers for Lee Heeseung the next day— or a gift basket of Lee Heeseung’s head to his rodents, an option Taehyun smiles widely at.

“New face around town? Didn’t know your boss was hiring, Doyoung.” You lock eyes with softly curved ones, brown and glinting but even the illiterate can read between the lines of his intentions; the true epitome of looks can kill locked into the strands of his cherry-red tuft complementary to the wine in his hand— and the speck of blood you can’t draw your eyes from on his cheekbone that he rids of in one smooth swipe and a full teeth smile. Jaeyun shifts his weight onto one leg behind the man, diverting his attention onto the brothel’s interior as if it’s his first time in dirty business like this— nice act Sim.

Expensive pinewood cologne wafts from the jacket hung on his shoulders and the golden tooth snug where his canine should be gleams with radiance. Savagery exudes from every feature of his— not the murderous intent you felt when you were held at gun and knifepoint by Eternally, no, this was by far more extreme. This cherry-red male’s ideal torment is far worse than a slash and run, like he’s trying to reap your very soul with his eyes alone. This is it, a member of PardoXXX far different to the shuttlebus driver and Jaeyun and suddenly you’re not quite sure if you can fulfil your role without stammering the script under his gaze.

“We found her outside the brothel with a gash to her head. Doesn’t remember a thing she says, not even her name.” Taehyun and you hold your breath watching the bartender follow the script of the envelope but standing face to face with this man is no different to facing your conscience— the kind of well-crafted smile that renders it difficult to lie because he knows the truth already. The shorter male widens his eyes in shock to the sudden turn of events as he extends a hand to grip around the cherry-red’s in hopes to please the irk on his face. Sim Jaeyun’s betrayed you once more with void and shallow promises one after the other. The two of you may be warm in this body-heat insulated room. Yet neither of you can help the cold breeze from young sixteen, nor the solemn park’s mulch that blows over the last remaining building blocks of trust you wish you could confide in the vessel of the peace-mongering boy years ago.

“You were given a ruby ring by one of my drivers, it’s mine, left by mistake so if you could be ever so lovel—“

“Ruby ring? If I had one I’d be far from this side of Alton, you’re funny Mister.” It’s hard to play dumb when you’re trying to maintain a level of eye contact not too observant but not too avoiding either in front of a man like this, and it doesn’t help that you’re repeatedly taking sips from your shot to calm down your nerves. Unamused laughs fall dead on his lips that fail to ease your panic; the opposite effect taking place when he turns the wine glass on its side, letting viscous red wine soak the floor he walks on with bloodlust as he leans to whisper into your ear.

Taehyun’s not supposed to open fire at Homer’s tonight, he’s not supposed to have the gun fully loaded and aimed from up at the balcony like it is at the moment when you’re merely conversing with Lee Heeseung as you were instructed. The prostitute kisses down the bulging vein in his neck down to the pecs of his torso similar to the seduction of a siren— a thumb pressed to the tent of his pants that he pushes away when he notices the gangster getting too fucking close to what’s not even his. He curses under his breath with sourness that can’t be called jealousy but can’t go unlabelled with how his arm twitches to hold back from shooting the prying male in the head, splattering his fucked mind in a crime scene of cherry-red just how he likes it.

“Does Lee Min-hyung ring a bell?”

Blood runs cold in your sweaty palms, eyes tense with shock and your voice lost in the unearthing of memories you ought to conceal; memories that you desire to forget over cherishing them.

Lee Min-hyung. Notorious in the underground world of loans sharks— never behind on repayments mainly because he’d put himself through any dirty means to get to it and that’s what would’ve led him to his ill-fated demise by the hands of your guilt-ridden rather. You can cleanse yourself of your name, replace the rags you wear with the softest silk and powder your face smooth of blemishes and like a magnet you’ll be tied back to your father, even in Alton miles from home. The deadliest drug of thoughts you could lose yourself in— and all of it’s resurfacing in a room where you stand in the spotlight. Or more so the centre stage of a criminal court in a room of predatory eyes and it wretches your stomach like the reopening of a stitched wound. Because this man knows the faulty genes encoded into your DNA and the impurity of man’s tendency to sin that flows a whole ocean stronger in your blood than anyone else, and for a second you stop breathing.

“Fucking wench, I knew it.”

Bang! —

Two to three gunshots fire at a small chandelier that splinters into the crystalline tears of the woeful prostitutes marked with disdainful hands and you don’t have to look up at the balcony to see the gun in Taehyun’s hands to know the bullets were his doing. There’s only so much will you have to survive and you won’t let yourself stand idle for Heeseung to have the pleasure of your body limp in his arms while he’s concerned with the sudden gunfire, and the bullet-glass mess dented into the floor.

“Heeseung she’s ran off—”

“Eternally, fuck! Only that runaway bastard has designed bullets.”

The heel under the pressure of your foot snaps as you make a run for the back door, your ankle twists and contorts at each limped step but you need to get as far as where Beomgyu and Kai are, by the alleyway that leads back to the base but your head is muddled, overflooded with the replay of his looming words like he’s subject you to a curse that can’t be lifted with the remorse you offer in place of your father. Left onto the road where Marley’s butchers is, take a right onto the alleyway with posters— or was it left...Taehyun said something about posters and you saw them back there—  God, you can’t remember the escape route you spent a whole afternoon revising like you’ve known these streets your whole life. The rampage of footsteps behind you are ear-splitting war cries and you can’t help the tears that spill knowing you’re finished without a route to take and armed with nothing but fists. And if a gang like ParadoXXX are nobodies with their fists then you must have been taken out of the survey in the events that you’ve been mangled in the same nature Humphrey was.

And fuck, you just fall to your knees in pitiful sobs when you run into a large torso knowing this is it. You’ve fallen victim to a man who’s set a bounty for your head on a pike in vengeance for someone you’ve never met— an undistinguishable fire that’s being taken out on you instead of the man in the cell responsible for your miserable living.

“Please— sniff,  I have nothing to do with Lee Min-Hyung—”

“You’re getting snot everywhere, take off your heels they’re catching up any second now.” Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid, always getting caught in a mistake when you’re in his presence. You were never capable of delving yourself into this kind of work, not like Taehyun who knows his ins-and-outs of this flipside city that you’re just hostage in as he swerves you through alleyway to alleyway in this maze of brick and sleeping beggars. But even the most familiar paths can close in on you at any given moment, and it’s a real pain to see that the black Porshe custom-plated J4KE PDX stands blocked at the road ahead.

“Jungwon! They went that way— Heeseung’s headed back already.”

Blonde-dyed ends appear grey in the pollution of the city when Taehyun holds your head to his chest with his tatted-arms; scarred and defined with muscle that flexes as he rolls you behind the cover of the wall leading to a dead-end.

“Taehyun— hic— sorry I swear—”

“Shh. Stop crying. It disgusts me.”  Disgusts him because the prominent voice out of the millions inside of his head wants to beg for the tears balancing in your watery eyes to fall and stain your cheeks their natural hue through the sticky-mess of your concealer. He relishes in it, how your lips quiver and hyperventilate with emotion that makes his erection twitch with gross excitement; so vulnerable, needy. You just need someone to hold and cry on— and he can play the nice guy if it meant he could get a taste of the purest sin he can get his hands on. If it meant that he could tarnish you with grime by having you tonight, a disgusting fantasy in his twisted head that he can’t blame his psychotic mother for nor the criminal life he leads but his own skin, blood and flesh that fucking loves it like some sick creep when you cry for his help at the thump of footsteps getting closer.

“Get on your knees and suck me off. Trust me on this one, baby.” You think he’s gone insane, lost his mind even— that this is the only thing he can think of in the moment when men armed with all sorts of illegal weapons are inching closer for your throats with no intention of holding back. Yet your brain and heart clash in opposition, you know it’s no good where this is headed. You’ve seen it before on the late night channels on TV on the chance that Humphrey would be asleep; sex, you never dared to cross that line— not with the plugs in the street nor the thieves that would get the whole neighbourhood pregnant. But you actually fucking considered it for Taehyun who’s not any different to the grubby men in the brothel and their vile requests, on top of the numerous lives lost to the very hands that hold you, that in your brain and soul you should despise because he’s killed more than your father ever has dirtied his hands with, but you can’t despise the attraction you have of breaking the rules just this time. Just testing the waters, there’s no one who’ll look at you any nastier for wanting a piece, after all you’re both two squashed peas in a pod; runaways, a stone-hearted killer and the daughter of one, like it’s fate that the only choices life had delegated to you were each other.

Don’t know whether it was the lust in the way he peered down at your tear-blurred eyes to have you following your heart as your knees make contact with the ridges of beer-stained pavement. Or if it was the nickname that eased the nausea in your stomach for even a moment, the first time he’s addressed you anything close to warm; and you hold on to it as you unzip the fly of his black jeans, even if it was empty of sincerity.

“Jake go down that alleyway I’ll search this one!” Even if you’ve watched a couple scenes on the TV that’s nowhere near enough to prepare you for the reality of it. He’s thick, a bit too thick for what you thought was ‘big’ on screen, and he hisses when you feel around the weight of it in your hands—contemplating whether you really could bring yourself to slot him on your tongue when he’s already starting to drag on your hand.

Maybe you should contemplate this later because Taehyun doesn’t want to rush you into it, that’s not his style of fucking, but Yang Jungwon’s getting awfully close. And if he wants this little stunt to work then he can’t have you staring up at him dumbly with his dick helpless in your hands, even if he likes the look of your eyes brimming with more tears worrying about how to even suck him off to begin with. So he spreads apart your amateur lips, preparing to graze your teeth on the sensitive skin, with a gun-powdered thumb. Instant and unprepared, Taehyun bucks his hips into the warm cave of your mouth. Lewd gagging of your virgin throat more raw than any of the artificial moans brewed by the women down in the brothel as he holds the back of your head to guide you along the stretch whilst also putting on a show.

A show that needs to be messy, filthy and looks nothing more or less of a heated quickie as he bunches your hair in his hands— fervorous as globs of spit leaked into the mix of fluids on damp ground beneath you. A sight to behold especially for the blonde who runs towards the dead end you’re gagged to Taehyun’s balls in.

“Found th— agh! Get a room, shit!” He doesn’t even spare you a second glance with covered eyes, running back down the alleyway he entered to find his partner in crime— a risky idea with no guarantee, but the soft breaths and murmurs of a calm Taehyun rocks your head away from the thought of it all. Your nose is still touching his pelvis minutes after the gang member leaves, and Taehyun knows it’s wrong. There’s no reason for him to still be caressing your tear-stained cheeks as he pushes his dick further down your coarse throat; it’s an act that’s supposed to break out of character the moment the audience leaves, and yet he holds you in position for a second longer than he should.

You cough and choke around the intake of air once he pulls out hastily; harsh and distasteful on the sore of your tongue. Gripped hands loosen the hold on your hair with the regret of unholiness engrained into the fingerprints that wipe needless tears away. The criminal doesn’t say a word, basking in mute you couldn’t fathom as he averts his eyes to the city skylines barely visible above the moss-covered walls of these slums; in thought of something you can’t read by the monotony of his face and can’t see on the flick of his wrist that prepares to lift up the bunched jeans back up his hips.

“Taehyun you…you haven’t finished.” It’s indescribable why you seek his touch again, a poor reason to feel the taste of Asmodeus on your tongue, have his amoral hands fondle your blemished skin with even more blemished hands bruised and battered with the soul-stirring cries of his victims on the other side of the muzzle. Exactly who you’d hate to be, Kang Taehyun is. Nevertheless you want to melt into his inked skin and the heat of his touch not of love but desire. You want the sting of your hair interweaved between his fingers that tug at your scalp with a pain that doesn’t burn like the irrational rancour of the neighbours— it’s sweet, sensual and itches the roof of your mouth to utter soft moans.

“Never heard of someone who wants to make a criminal cum. Are you sure that’s what you want,baby?” There it is again. Purrs from non-sacred lips that stir the most immoral of emotions in your heart that races with a steeply increasing pulse. There’s no reason nor joy that he gains from using those loving nicknames that reign foreign in his profanity-filled mouth— he doesn’t have to extend the act when ParadoXXX are miles away in the opposite direction of you, but he does.

So you open your mouth wider than any of the orifices in your stake impaled wounds of prejudice, for him to fill. For him to neutralise the toxin of the redhead’s words, the truth you’ve been concealing, with his lies embedded into unaffectionate coitus you’ll suffice with pretending is real for now.

Guttural moans coveted deep under his remaining conscience pour in a low voice as he sheathes himself into the warmth of your amateur mouth that only knows to suck with no real technique. Taehyun wants to mould your virgin throat to fit the fruit he grows from his bad seed, he wants to be the one to teach you the forbidden sermons of the devil’s book you were never meant to encounter. You don’t belong in their lair of outcasts— but he’ll make it happen the moment he marks you fucking his.

“Don’t use your teeth, relax your throat if you want to suck me off properly.” You trace the veins of his shaft with an inexperienced tongue and pursed lips; painfully slow with adjusting to his girth that makes it impossible to not have your teeth graze him in the slightest. And the criminal’s not as patient of a man as he portrays especially when your eyebrows are knit with concentration trying to redeem yourself with his advice because it doesn’t take him much to hold your jaw still with vice-like fingers. He ruts into your mouth like he has places to be instead of wasting his time on these lone streets with you, hot and feverish as you yelp at the sudden change in rhythmic slapping of his pelvis to your drool painted chin. It’s like he’s purposely rushing to chase an orgasm with how rough each spit slathered thrust is to your aching jaw, starting to hurt from the strain and the soft sponge at the back of your throat he continues to ram into relentlessly. Sharp spikes of pleasure-filled pain mix the logic of your brain as rinsed tears start to form again— tears that could arise a bucketload of his cum if he dwelled on it too much because he loves the nastiness of it and the dubious essence of pain and lustful crying.

Easily, he could find himself in any impoverished family’s home with a rifle as he drinks in the saline of their crocodile tears and the scanty bills in their hands, he can go further than making them cry and it still wouldn’t satiate the compulsion to be dominant and righteous in a world that’s oppressed him long before the fighting and the drugs. Not like your tears do.

He'll bathe you in the very felonies he drowns in. He’ll teach you the ropes of how to smoke, drink, how to wield a gun. He’ll teach you how to kiss, how to ride him, and at the end of it all when he’s tired, he’ll teach you how to leave— leave like his mother had because you should have known from the start that this was bound to happen, and you should have stopped him before it got too far.

Because fuck morals when they’ve been broken to persecute you, and fuck morals when they never existed to Taehyun’s father in the first place.

Your undignified moans pulse around his tip, hands clawing with desperate pleas at the belt of his jeans, and god when you look at him so powerlessly as he shuts your wails with the stuffing of his cock, he pulls you off of him with a pop! — Letting his seed coat the rich satin dress you bore and now have to explain the stain for later.

What follows next is a shared mutual quiet that lingers thick in the smell of sex. An unspoken agreement that this wasn’t supposed to happen— a foolish mistake neither of you should repeat but both crave for. His jeans are pulled up as fast as he wants to leave from dealing with the shame that overcomes you in rippling waves, phone in hand and dialling a number that picks up in a state of bickering and anger.

“Beomgyu and Kai are waiting for us at Ashbrook. And don’t mention this to any of them.”

Humphrey had taught you this lesson that always failed to stick in your head. Pushovers are the true lowest of the low in society, you won’t get any higher if you let everyone else step all over you. And it still doesn’t stick. Because you don’t want to ask for Taehyun to tend to the heat in your stomach and touch you like how the actors do on those highly exaggerated shows on TV. You want him to initiate it, but with every shallow action and look you’re more than aware you’re in no position to ask him for it— criminals wouldn’t risk the sentence if they really had cared for anyone but themselves.

“Fuck you Kang Taehyun. I was supposed to be back by twelve after dealing with Sunghoon.” Beomgyu cusses from the driver’s seat with invisible steam huffing out of his nose and both hands gripped so tight on the steering wheel they leave imprints on the leather; the angriest you’ve seen him so far but do bare in mind that he can’t be happy go lucky all the time with both body counts under his belt. “Heeseung sped off onto the highway before we got here. What a mission this has been for the dream-team.” Sarcasm that you don’t want to retort to stifles heavily in the car and Taehyun’s not one to argue either, instead leaning over to the centre console to dig for a small bag of rolled-up blunts to smoke.

“No hotboxing in my car. This baby’s brand new.” Beomgyu attempts to swat a hand behind his seat at Taehyun but gives up with a grunt the moment he hears the lighter click in the backseat. Kai only laughs heartily riding shotgun, a black bag he unzips filled with wads of cash you couldn’t count but if you did you’d estimate it to be in the hundred thousands. “I had quite the successful heist today— ay? ParadoXXX’s treasurer isn’t the brightest at keeping their funds safe. 700k upfront. That’ll save you from YJ’s earful. Give me a hit hyung.”

You watch with intrigue as Taehyun hums in approval upon hearing the youngest’s feat, propping up from his seat and passing the blunt in a shaking motion to urge Kai to take it from his hands. “So, what went wrong in the first place?”  

Nobody outwardly points fingers or glances at you but you can tell they’re not suspecting Taehyun who’s never emerged on the losing end of raids before. Excuses don’t come to you easily and words strangle in your throat in the exact manner Heeseung, as you’ve learnt it, had when he unearthed the roots you’ve been burying since the police knocked on your door.

“That’s a conversation for later. Do you wanna try little-one?” Like some childish high school crush you tense at how observant Taehyun is towards the uncomfortable twiddling of your fingers trying to find a believable lie. The blunt is passed back to the split-blonde beside you from Kai, a raised eyebrow and a slightly outstretched hand to pass you the small roll. Bad for your health. Bad for you. But you watch the way Taehyun exhales the smoke smoothly, how his eyes close shut in relaxation as if he’s been transported to another world. And you want that high that’ll distract you from the chaos of this life you wish you could start anew, with a strong headed mind which’ll beg for you to not make this exact decision months down the line when the drugs aren’t just an escape but another hole you’ve dug yourself into.

Novice lips wrap around the blunt that Taehyun holds onto. Not quite sure what you’re supposed to do except copy how he had inhaled effortlessly, though you’re not close to perfecting it at all with inexperience coughing out of your lungs that shakes the car with laughter. “Come on hyung, teach her properly if you’re gonna hotbox.”

“I was planning to but someone’s eager to become every parent’s nightmare tonight,” The embarrassment that crashes down on you is comical; you got too ahead of yourself again. The male sat next to you turns your head with the finger pad of his index, staring directly into your expectant eyes that scan each movement of his hand as it positions the blunt to your lips. “Slow inhales, you’ll choke if you rush into it like just now for your first time.” Taehyun guides you through it, smoking weed. It’s a short-lasting euphoria that runs through your veins. Lightweight limbs that don’t carry the heap of your father’s responsibility, a head that becomes clouded with the comforting gale slipping through the window instead of the memories of Humphrey; losing yourself slowly in the backseat until you truthfully couldn’t remember your name nor the two men in front of you, tunnel vision through slitted eyes focused solely on the lips of Kang Taehyun.

He's a temporary escape stronger than drugs.

Gives you a high that weed can’t reenact when you’re with him.

Shots of cigar-dipped whiskey spills with impatience on to floors withholding the mass of fury circulating the room. Classical music belonging in the landscape of farmhouse manors screeches on the vinyl player; distorting the mood of Yeonjun’s lounge into an extra burden of regret that should’ve never been lifted from yours onto Taehyun’s shoulders. Broken glass as rigid and sharp as his stare dispersed onto the carpet and pierced through bare feet that Taehyun trudged with towards the preceding storm.

Navy tweed suits couldn’t disguise the coiled violence beneath. His head balanced on a glass cut-finger that trickles with runny red— a leg kicked up over the other bouncing with restlessness. Yeonjun’s not the kind to dwell on limited relationships that will only be dead weight to what he wants to achieve, and if he wants a bursary to pay for the younger’s poor hindsight then Taehyun shouldn’t be appalled walking out of the lounge with a single eye.

“What did I say about gunfire inside of Homer’s?” Words caught in Taehyun’s throat refused to speak, hammered in by the faucet of vitriol soiling his leader’s lips, “Damnit! — You’ve never been so reckless before, never strayed from my instructions once. I told you no gunfire unless it’s Lee Heeseung and you fucking shot the chandelier— and don’t play stupid with me Kang Taehyun you don’t just call that poor aim, not when it comes to you.”

“If I fired at him she could’ve been shot. That bastard’s snea—”

“Shoot her then. What does she matter to us? You never thought twice about strangling your old man. You didn’t flinch when you first shot a gun, but you wanna draw the line with some bitch you met 3 days ago? Since when did you get so weak Kang Taehyun— I picked your ass off those streets for bloodshed, not for you to play Angel Simon.” A cigarette is lit alight with wrath alone, the smoke a ghastly blanket to cover the younger’s winces, its ashes fall crisp with dead expectations. “I misunderstood, thought she was important to the ParadoXXX raid.”

“Quit the bullshit Taehyun. We’re goddamn outcasts there’s no one important to us nor the raid but ourselves. You think if she wasn’t held at gunpoint she’d be kissing your ass like she gives a shit where you end up? Would she hesitate to pfew! you in the head?” Yeonjun mimics the thought with a cigarette-embedded finger gun blown up into hysterical laughter. “Lee Heeseung. He’s related to that girl, someway somehow. And I’m not fucking having this alliance like yesterday— like you both want to fuck her, pussying your guns like that. Did the brothels get too boring? Do you want to start fucking holes Jongseong’s already found himself in? Don’t make me laugh Taehyun.”

Does he care what happens to you? Not at all. But yeah, he does want to fuck you. He wants to see the tears that make his dick throb with vulgarity Yeonjun couldn’t compare to with his roster of prostitutes. Doesn’t matter if ParadoXXX got to you first, he’s not picky, he was never one to have the privilege to deny leftovers to begin with.

“Then laugh.” Black slicked hair loses poise and falls loose in strands, hysterical laughter dying down in shock on an open canvas of the male’s face. Taehyun’s never opposed his words directly because he knows the lengths Yeonjun will go— he’s seen it happen to sweet sweet Kai over the years; the burns. Any appetite for the nicotine-rush is lost within seconds, finding the end of its lifetime on the hardened skin of Taehyun’s bicep, the flame put out within seconds but the burn of it everlasting. Blistered, burning and sore seemed like an overstatement for his reaction; drawing blood from his lips and a restrained throat that didn’t peep a single grunt. He doesn’t want to look weak in front of Yeonjun but he’ll settle with baring the burn before his mind turns to the pistol in his back pocket.

“It’s good to see you still know to look strong. But I don’t want to hear of this from you again— Kai’s learning quite fast isn’t he? 700k in cash and everyone used to look down on him, it looks like he’ll be the one to look down on you soon, hah. You know I love you like a brother Taehyun, but we don’t share a single drop of sinister blood. And we were taught before we could even speak that blood runs thicker than water.”

The walk to Soobin’s patch-up room is longer than Taehyun remembers. He hisses at the after shock of the burn’s flare, only the circumference of a cigarette butt yet he finds it more difficult to supress his grunts compared to any other bullet or stab wound covered in inked designs. Because this time it’s Yeonjun’s doing, and ironically enough he was the one to save him, when all Taehyun’s head can reel of right now is the gun in the back pocket and the chains of what-ifs?

Unexpected, you were. Dangling your feet off the edge of the nursing bed in place of Soobin who’s nowhere to be found among the shelves of bottled pills and painkillers mixed with stocks of ecstasy. Just you as the focus in a landscape of dull white and sheets stained with blood that can’t be washed, quiet and behaved as you stare at him walk through the door with wide eyes.

“Soobin?”

“He’s out to deal some stuff in another city. I was told to wait here until he got back.” It’s cute how oblivious you are to it all. You’d be here all night for him to put a flimsy plaster on if you really waited for him to return on the days he’s out visiting his girlfriend in prison. “Do you know how to use a med-kit?”

He likes the way your eyes widen with worry over something you’ll never understand, dressed in a pure white gown that clings and sits tightly to form another layer of skin. You don’t know how to treat a burn, if you did you wouldn’t be gagging at the sight of the blistered lump on his arm.

“I—I mean I can try…that wasn’t there earlier.”

Taehyun hums as he drops the heavy box filled with gauzes and bandages, spilling all over the dirtied sheets you sat with crossed legs on, unsure of what you were to use first. “It wasn’t, end of story. The non-stick dressing in the box, Soobin keeps a roll in there always.”

A small burn, the size of a fingernail yet it’s blistered bright red-orange and tender around the edges. Being as observant as he is Taehyun can tell that’s not what you’re focused on. He notices how your eyes wander to the craters of suffering in his skin; bullet wounds, a scar of his severance from life in picket-fenced homes to the barren land of sodden alleyways. It’s like some invisible force tugs on your hand to caress the craters— beautifully decorated with lilies stretched from his collarbone down to his elbow, you want to cross the line again; snoop your head into business you shouldn’t do, business that should only be shared among criminals him.

“Taehyun,” the syllables of his name whispers softly from your lips, every vowel delicate and meek, “these scars, why would you—”

“I don’t like it when you talk too much. Focus on the task at hand, will you?” His tone is deliberate and coated with bitterness much contrasted to your gently uttered worries. However his eyes tell a different tale with how they lock onto yours— underlying in want that you couldn’t pinpoint and a desire you could only reciprocate. His wife-beater is pulled off in a quick haste, scratching at the still sore burn that has yet to be treated and Taehyun doubts it will be any time soon judging by your obvious gawking. Gawking at the toned muscle running down his stomach as thought sculpted with marble and pick.

“A good nurse doesn’t lust over her patients.” Taehyun had caught you in the middle of the act of glancing at the tanned muscle lined with sweat, although cold sweat as you brushed your hand along the raised surface in lust enhanced curiosity. “I wasn’t—”  And Taehyun had caught you too in the surprise of a kiss; lips pressed to yours that you didn’t know how to respond to with each mesh of fat, crashing of warm tongues and the bite on your bottom lip as he caves in for more. Sloppy with no sense of direction, purely primal in mutual need as his hands crawl up the vines that guard the soft skin of your neck; a possession he’s not to touch. But Taehyun doesn’t want to play by the rules— not when he’s pent up with anger from Yeonjun’s scolding, not when you’re so easy to give in to him like this.

Detaching your lips from his for a breath is suffocating to say the least. You’re chasing after it again. The taste of sin on your lips and the pressure of his thumb cradled around your neck. Like it’s some sort of life force how his kisses turn into addiction, his touch bringing life to your diminishing soul as the sinking of his teeth dip into your neck and bruises your skin into darker blotches; tainted with the lapse of indulging in the debauchery of Taehyun.

He's rougher today, rushing every mark on your neck further as he paints the canvas of your body in his art style— the same stretch of lilies leading down to the edge of your chest that he grips under the bunched-up cotton of your dress. A dress that rips within the vicinity of his hands that are good for nothing other than slaughter, torn fabric revealing the innocence of your chest that heaves nervous breaths and pounds with ecstatic interest.

The split-dyed criminal doesn’t want you to play coy with him and whine at every touch with overly inexperienced moans. He wants to hear the filthiest pleas that run abrasive along the lining of your throat as he fucks you, until you can feel all the bad within him coursing through each rough slap of his hips like some ritual of corruption. He wants to mark you his, embellish your waist with his blood-soaked hands that pinch and slap at sensitive skin and evoke those tears of pain-rich pleasure.

“So fucking troublesome sweetheart seducing me like this,’ His hands push you head first into the hard plank of the thin and itchy mattress, fingers clamped on the sides of your jaw as he spat heavy words, “Tell me, has Jake fucked you before? Did he cum to those tears as well?”

You shake your head in denial, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slips a finger under the soaked cotton of your thin underwear to push it to the side— drenched with arousal that tastes sweet on his tongue as a coated finger glides over it. “So sweet, it’s a shame you upset me yesterday, I’m not in the mood to play nice.” You’re only given a few breathy seconds to conceive the warning of his words before he’s spreading your closed legs apart with nails sharply dug and penetrating through your thighs’ first layer of skin; leaving your core exposed to his preying eyes, a haven that’ll cost him any slim redemption he has left to trespass.

A sharp slap to your clit leaves you trembling and at a loss of words as he fondles the flesh of your folds— shrieks of pleasure eliciting from your lips as Taehyun marks painful love bites down the plump of your held thigh, the other hand busying itself on removing his pants that causes him to hiss when the fabric rubs against his flushed cock.

“Taehyun w—wait!” Your pleas barely make it past his selective hearing, entirely focused on the your wanton moans as he stretches your cunt obscenely, every wince and curse slowly melting into needy cries as you tighten your hold around his neck. “Taehyun I can’t! You’re not going to fit I’m—” He chuckles lowly at your horrified expression when he finally pushes in the bulbous girth of his tip, all teary-eyed and scared at the thought that he could rip you, salty droplets cascading down the round of your cheeks that he coos at with shallow sympathy. There’s nothing more that excites him than the pitiful pout that appears on your lips as he buries each inch further inside of you, vibrato groans from the tight squeeze of your warm cunt with a cocky smirk on his face when you start to claw your nails at him.

“if you stopped squeezing me so fucking tightly then maybe we’d actually get somewhere.” He’s barely halfway in when you’re crying again at how your hole gapes for him, impossible to widen more than it is already to fit the rest of him where he starts to thicken at the base. But Taehyun’s starting to get annoyed with your whines, he doesn’t want to sit around to hear your overdramatic cries forever— he wants to fuck you until your mind can’t think straight and you can’t contain the drool in your mouth, and he won’t get anywhere close if you’re going to stop him with each inch. So he bucks his hips straight into your gushing cunt, the last remaining inches shoved inside within seconds as he starts to pummel into you; a hand groping at your tits with a harsh grip that has you squirming around him.

“See? All this overreacting for what— your pussy’s just as much of an attention whore as you are. Always finding something to complain about, always getting on my nerves crying over nothing.”

“N—no! I was just scared that fuck! Tae you need to hah…slow down.” And you’re soon to regret your words because he starts to drag his hips at snail’s pace, his thrusts teasingly slow as he drinks in the furrow of your brows smugly with a chuckle. The stretch is still there but you’re not blessed with the delicious prod of his cock against your cervix anymore, the thrill and heat of your bodies together suddenly dying down into desperate need displayed on the tears that threaten to spill again— denied of sufficient touch as his hand retracts from your chest.

“What? Not happy? Should keep your mouth shut to stop you from whining like a bitch, maybe then you’ll learn to take what I give whores like you.”

Thick fingers push at your lips, resting deep past the flat of your tongue as you gagged lewdly waiting for him to pick up the pace again, to help resolve the knot building up in your stomach that causes you to jolt when he fans his breath on your chest.

 “You’re prettier when you actually listen.”

Taehyun leans his forehead into the small space between your neck and shoulder. Licking over the hickeys that finally started to set— still tender and painful to touch. Yet when he targets the same spot again the stinging sensation dissolved within the delectable rough of sex erupts moans that vibrate around his fingers that push down on the warm muscle inside, leaving gaps for drool to stream down your face messily.

He's plunging back inside your pussy which squelches with juices that soil the sheets beneath you on the shaking nurse-bed. But your mind can’t give one to care about what either of you will say to Soobin later— it’s not like you can make an excuse up on the spot when the male nestled into your chest is fucking you harder than the last and faster than your staccato moans can keep up.

Another launch of slaps land on the side of your thigh as you shake with the pleasure rinsing from each handprint flashing onto your skin for short seconds. Your hips jerk up to meet his; burying him deeper inside of you, scratching with your nails down the muscle of his back and shoulder sharp enough to leave them smeared in small specks of blood as you cling onto him with craving.

“Fuck, you’re so nasty clenching around my dick when I slap you like this. Do the others know how dirty you really are? Beomgyu surely does with how you shared that blunt with him this morning, is that who you learned it from? The other little pain slut?”

His taunting causes you to clench around him embarrassingly with each of his words that slur into grunts, unable to argue yourself any dignity the moment he pulls his fingers out of your mouth to find refuge around your neck—hands lightly clasped around it but closing in tighter when he brushed the beginning of your jaw.

“You’ve been stepping out of line lately, don’t think I should let you cum today.”

Mean was an understatement for how Taehyun appeared to you with that last clause. Eyelids hung low with borderline earnest watching your breath pause in sync with the rhythmic slamming of his hips.

He wants you to beg. To submit to him and his megalomania-rotted head. The tears, drool, furrowed eyebrows and pleading eyes accompanied by the swivel of your hips that yearn for his touch pathetically like you couldn’t possibly cum without him as he squeezes the air out of your lungs. And he’s right that you can’t cum without him— your fingers are flimsy and inexpert with naivety, they don’t know the ins and outs and the spongy spots that have your eyes rolling back in excitement like Taehyun does on the back of his hand.

Your voice barely shies of whispering, diverting your gaze onto the hands bundling the sheets into ripples within your grasp; symbolic of how you clutch onto Humphrey’s words like they’re sacrament, but you’ve already deviated so far from it the moment you walked into those foreign alleyways. It’s entirely impossible to believe wholeheartedly that a criminal like Taehyun is no different to the thugs on the street. Because being in his presence alone is the closest you’ll come to bliss, safer than any inn you’d have to dig your pockets for to stay the night.

And your hand relaxes, palm flat across your forehead that sweats with tension. Gentle rises of chest as you bat your eyelashes in total lust, lips barely open apart to beg of him.

“Make me cum please, Taehyun.” 

Five words uttered in the most docile manner seem ironic when he responds with the persistent drilling of his hips into your pulsing cunt that envelops him with every second of contact; trying to savour the stretch of his girth for a moment longer, each stroke more intense than its predecessor.

On every calculated thrust that pushed you further up the headrest of the bed he rubs soothing circles on the surface of your thigh; a catalyst for the pit of fire ignited in your lower abdomen. “Can’t believe I didn’t fuck this cunt earlier— just look how you’re sucking me in baby.”

The biggest mistake you could make was listening to him, watching the lewd scene unfold as his body flushes against yours— the wet squelch that disrupts the stillness of the nursing room with suppressed whimpers and immodest groans. A sight that pushes you on edge as your legs clamp around him with pooling desire; the knot starting to undo itself with each pant of his breath that sounds through the small space between your lips.

“I won’t be able to tell you’re close if you’re keeping your whimpers from me.”

Taehyun doesn’t falter with the rock of his hips, never slowing down to let you catch your breath, intent on undoing the ache in your stomach that yearns for his touch. You shake with each plunge of his tip as he lays a hand on your stomach— grounding you from moving any further while his band-aid clad finger clamps tighter around your throat, drowning out your moans into gasps when he continually targets the bundle of nerves that drive you over edge.

“Don’t worry about making a mess, just cum for me like a good girl.” And as if on command you’re pulsing around him, legs shaking from the shock of your crashing orgasm as you cum around him. You’re still adjusting to the waves of pleasure when Taehyun drops his hands to wrap around your thighs again. Still hard, still after your tears that drives his dick to twitch at the dirty thought of it, and so he ploughs through your orgasm— bathing in the surprise storming your eyes and the loll of your tongue caught in gasps and tiny shrieks.

Overwhelmed with pleasure you latch onto his arms, the sting of the burn as your hands accidentally fiddle over the skin causes him to bite down on his already cut lip, feeling close to his own release when he sees the sultry pilling of tears that drench your cheeks and the weak fingers that grip onto the refined muscle.

Only he can have you like this. The one to provoke your watery eyes and your erotic cries that ring repeatedly in his ears— his favourite song, tuned with your high-pitched whimpers that reels his cock in like a fish on a hook. Your cunt pulsing and gaping to swallow him whole with a warmth that Taehyun curses he can live inside of you forever; cumming shorty after on to your fucked-out face still lost in the overstimulation, mixing with your tears into an even saltier concoction of lewd intervention.

A thumb caresses you from your episode of tears, allowing your heart rate to come to a rest— but you doubt the orgasm’s the problem, especially when he wipes you of his seed and kisses the marks on your neck and chest with attentiveness.

If it were anyone else you’d ask them to stay. To let you rest on the comfort of their chest as you nod off into light sleep to the sound of their heartbeat. But you know who Taehyun is. By the time you’ve closed your eyes he’ll be out the door again a busy man, who finds tremendous work in smoking weed inside his station. A pastime he prefers to tending to your needs, because you could resolve it yourself with a blunt too and the burn of alcohol down your throat when he’s gone.

Since that’s how he solves his problems.

That’s how everyone solves their problems in these slums.

“Can’t you stay for a little longer?”

The male nicks a small gauze and bandage with his dishevelled hair lazily tussled with his hand— a cigarette in his mouth already to help him forget the weight of his actions, for falling into temptation, for this fuck-and-leave habit you’ll have to get used to.

“You know the answer to that already,”

Sometimes you wish you could be cradled in arms that’ll clear your mind of everything.

And you got really fucking close to that. With the man in the front seat who speeds down the city’s highways late at night, when officers are fixed on heading home rather than chase a black Mercedes that’ll only cause them overtime. Over the week since your rule-breaking stunt in Soobin’s workroom you’ve returned to the awkward stage you fought so hard to climb out of. No more greetings, no more small talk when you catch each other in the concrete hallways and no more appearances at the table Kai, Beomgyu and Soobin sat at with you; sharing a blunt for breakfast whenever heists were slow.

Taehyun’s been noticeably uneasy around you for whatever reason you can’t pinpoint. And even as he drives you downtown to the club Soobin’s celebrating at following his girlfriend’s release he’s reserved in his own little world, that doesn’t have you in the frame.

“You’re doing it again.”

“We’ve talked over it. Don’t make a fuss.” Dismissive again, and you can’t tell if you’re overthinking the status of your relationship simply because you got used to the taste of some sincerity or if you weren’t a good fuck. If you were boring and reeked of inexperience, if was out of pity since you didn’t finish in the alleyway. The pit in your stomach starts to drop at the thought. Makes you feel sick in your skin tight dress Yeonjun had peeled from Stephanie this time— a favourite of his, and as petty as it may sound, you’re jealous that she’s being called back for seconds while you’re still stuck in this middle point with nowhere to go. Not wanting to step anywhere out into the danger zone with Taehyun, in case things take a turn for the worse.

Or maybe things have already taken a turn for the worse with how he turns on the radio to hinder you from bothering him anymore; reclined in the backseat with your arms crossed under your chest in a huff. You can tell he’s watching you from the mirror, and you hate that he kisses his teeth at you like this tension is all your fault, because everything in life wants to follow that side of the story.

“You talked it over. I didn’t even get a chance to say anything!” Your best attempt at talking over the radio. Shouting with your fists clenched tight in anger until sweat started to break through your makeup, “You’re treating me like a stranger!”

“You’re not one of us.” That irritating tweeting noise again, the whole ‘you don’t belong here’ bullshit you’ve been fed your whole life as if it were truth, and it may as well be although you’re ashamed to admit you’ve never felt more at home with Eternally; with criminals. Than you ever have with Humphrey, than you ever have with Jaeyun or your family when it was the three of you sat down for supper.

“You don’t fucking know me Taehyun.” The male doesn’t like that you’ve grown your teeth, not one bit. If he had the option to he’d sew your mouth shut with thread so you couldn’t argue with him— he hates arguing, he hates it when he feels out of control. But then he’d be unable to hear your whines, those sweet sobs that define him as the grossest pervert with how he gets hard thinking about it and he doesn’t want that, never.

“What don’t I know? I know you like it when I choke you like some slut.”

“That’s not it!” Heat rushes to your face hearing how agitated you sound when Taehyun couldn’t be calmer, like this whole argument’s going to end on a deaf ear of his again, all your efforts to waste, “I’ve had it ten times worse than you running away from your bitch of a mother!” That sentence was never meant to leave your lips. Your mouth running like a fountain of newfound hatred you would’ve never sought two weeks ago when you were still laid on the sofa with Humphrey, all sweet and smiley despite what came at you.

When were you capable of such insensitive words? Capable of turning suffering into a competition when you should know better than anyone the hurt of it all— after everything he confided in you, the solemn slant of his eye as he spoke of his mother and his cheater of a father, you made it about yourself again.

Was it the drugs? The drinks you emptied on the lonely nights you’d wander into his room?

Or was it the temptation of sex you should’ve never tried? And its conflicting nature because you’re spiralling. Spiralling on the days when you wash your face in the mirror looking more dreadful than you did with a gash to the back of your head with blood crystals stuck messily to your hair before you met him. But it shouldn’t be that way because you’ve never felt safer and more fulfilled than when you’re in his hold— when he caresses your face like the finest china, afraid you’d break if he was too rough.

Maybe, you lost that delicate aspect the second time when he finally entered inside of you; all used and dirtied in your mouth, all corrupt for him to choke and fuck lovelessly as he ruined the purity of your haven with his twisted, unchaste talk.

You’re almost unrecognisable now aside from the features encompassing your face; the remnants of a murderer, painted with the seed of a killer you don’t dare to face.

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know Taehyun maybe the fact that I’m the one that’s been fucking guilty my whole life because my dad killed Lee Min-hyung years ago?”

Ridicule only adds salt to the wound—he laughs, laughs louder and heartier than he ever has; with insanity Yeonjun’s pales in comparison to. There’s no essence of anger that startles you who comes to a standstill in fear again as he starts to speed dangerously fast down the road with a laughter that wasn’t subsiding. You cling onto the backseats with your eyes-squeezed shut as his Mercedes swerved between incoming traffic also headed towards the night life of the city that you’ve long lost the excitement for. And when he finally parks himself outside of the club entrance with your hair in a mess and your dress halfway ridden up your thigh he finally drops the maniacal laughter, turning his head around with wrongful amusement.

“Your father killed Lee Heeseung’s uncle little-one, would he be pleased to find out your fucking criminals too now?” The pit in your stomach drops with unease, widening your eyes and stuttering in shock. The Lees, Lee Heeseung’s circle that Humphrey had begged you to avoid— and they found you within an instant here in Alton, and Jaeyun was working with them; Jaeyun had led them here.

“Y—you know..about it?” Spit clogs in your throat when you’re on the verge of puking your stomach’s contents out in this very car; you couldn’t stand it, the sickly memory rushing back to you.

“Listen here little-one, that madman’s pointed his gun at every single person in Alton trying to find you, and that includes Yeonjun’s late sister so I’d advise you keep your pretty mouth shut from now.”

And you do, God you do. Because now it isn’t just a matter of being blamed for your father’s actions, indirectly, your existence has cost the lives of innocents too. It wretches your stomach to think about it— the perspective Taehyun’s shifted onto you like a laugh to the face because you’re not the centre of everything, you’re neither the worst sufferer nor sinner on finite earth, and it renders you speechless when he leans into your neck.

Marks you’ve spent hours covering with plasters and foundation put your labour to waste as he bites and sucks into the prone skin of your shoulder again except it doesn’t take your mind off the raiding thoughts in your mind this time.

“Murderer’s daughter or not, you’re still mine tonight.”

You spend the whole night at the club with your arm awkwardly rubbing at your collarbone to cover Taehyun’s hickeys that warded off any man that wanted to approach you with disgust. While he went off in the corner booths leaving you alone, surrounded by an audience of women that smothered their hands over his thigh.

Among that audience being Soobin’s girlfriend, sat prettily on his thigh as she poured liquor the same shade of crimson as the humiliation resonating within you down his inviting lips. Your posture slumps at the bar with ugly jealousy that you don’t understand because Soobin’s sat directly opposite them with a bar girl touching him up likewise— and to an oblivious eye you wouldn’t even be able to tell they were dating to begin with. So why do you feel jealous when even Soobin’s unbothered? You’re not here to be stuck to his side, you’re not his girlfriend. So why do your eyes brim with tears when you notice him suck and bruise her skin red and purple down to her chest in a beautiful design that outshone the lazy and messy splotches randomly placed over your skin?

Perhaps because he said you were his,

The weight of his words falling flat on the ground, meaningless and a spur of the moment thought.

And you really don’t want to ruin the lively mood tonight but your feet have a mind of their own as they storm towards Taehyun, his eyes making contact with yours before sending a smug smirk in your direction. One that weakens your knees and buckles you in because what excuse could you possibly have to reason why you’re upset with him? Sex, heartfelt conversations, he’s marked and called you his—but what makes you any different to the doll perched up on his lap sat with blinking eyes and long lashes as she questions your relevance, or well, irrelevance.

On instinct he pats Soobin’s girlfriend off his lap with a face that emanates neither expression nor emotion, trudging towards you with his hands in his pockets before removing them to flick at the marks you’ve been covering with two fingers.

“I said you were mine tonight, not sulk like some lost mutt out here.”

Inconsiderate words pierce your heart with glib depressions. Transported back to Homer’s it seems with how everyone’s head turns to gawk at the spectacle you and Taehyun star in, shame unable to conceal itself on your face when Soobin’s girlfriend scoffs at your stunt—the humiliation of it all to have to approach Taehyun in this manner becoming overbearing.

You’re practically on the verge of crying when Taehyun drags you outside of the back entrance of the club, not a word shared between you as he led you through iron-barred doors into the depths of the alleyway lit with a single overhead street lamp that casted shadows over dark and tired eyes.

You had so much to say off the top of your head out of pure anger and raw emotion yet when you stand face-to-face with him it’s like he steals the voice from your mouth, as if he’d become your mouthpiece that you nod and agree with every word to.

It doesn’t help that you’re getting tired of yourself as well. His previous nitpicking from your earlier conversation dabbling into your thoughts because you’ve picked an argument with him at least three times already, always find a problem to argue over;always making a fuss.

“Upset because I kissed up someone else’s girlfriend?”

“It’s not just that! —”

“You have to get used to it little-one, no criminal cares about morals out here. I can fuck Soobin’s girlfriend and she’ll take my dick like a slut. Oh! Was that toovulgar? Are you going to cry again?” Mocking whines fall on your shoulders that tremble with baseless anger as your eyes stare at the detailing of the squashed beer can beneath your feet. It’s not dirty talk this time, not some taunting that makes you crave him to salvage the need within you that he satiates with mere rough sex, it’s sincere. The sincerest words he’s ever said to you within your short time together past all the heated kisses and hand holding as he exhaled the smoke of his hit with the blunt in to your mouth.

“One minute you’re all over me and the next you’re dishing me to the side like I’m scrap Taehyun— I don’t even know if I’m mad at you or not, you— you’re confusing me.” Upon hearing your complaints his head cocks to the side; blonde ends framing his terribly alluring face that you can’t pick between kissing and kicking.

“So you’re not mad sweetheart? That’s all I wanted to hear from you.” He laughs off the argument again with ease; Taehyun’s not the type to fight, he chooses to dismiss. Rather bathe in the heat of agitation than be on the losing end to an argument.

Sweetheart. Such a simple nickname that rolls off his tongue smoothly like he’s done this countless of times before, but it’s enough for you to melt like putty in his hands when he pats your face gently with a dimpled smile on his face. Shit— Taehyun makes it really impossible to stay angry at when he knows how to pull on your heartstrings like this, when he can fabricate your version of events to fit his.

“Fine I’m not—”

“Fancy seeing you two getting so close. Tell me, slum lovers, did you lose a finger for that poorly executed plan at Homer’s?”

You hear it— a quickly ran through sentence, maybe a laugh thrown in between and a sudden cadence you weren’t expecting to hear again, not so soon at least. The recognition of the smooth voice claws through to your lungs and strangles you breathless. You don’t want to look up, don’t want to believe that the voice is his but even in this alleyway, down in the ends of the city where the EDM booms louder than the bullets in the gun Taehyun digs in his back pocket for, you can recognise the tinge of malice in his tone you never wanted to look back on.

“Woah— hey, hey now Taehyun. Let’s talk this out, shall we? You hand Jake the girl and we’ll leave Eternally alone for good— how does that sound? On top of two million up front? Surely that girl can’t mean that much to you—”

The fire of a gunshot crackles in the air with unpredictability, originating too close to your timid ears as Taehyun holds you tight to his chest with his gun slotted securely in his hand. Too quick for you to grasp the situation as your ears ring with the sudden burst of the bullet and your heartbeat fastens with worry-fuelled adrenaline as you stare at the pool of blood trickling on the floor.

“Your leader should know better to fire first than to run his mouth.”

Heeseung lays still in his own blood splatter that makes his cherry-red trenches look dull, his deep chuckles that sent shivers down your spine replaced with the shouts of a frantic Jake who rushes over to check for the expansion of his chest with breath but pales physically when the goosebumps of his skin start to run cold increasingly fast.

His body sprawls with his limbs limp and stuck with the coagulating blood by his ankles. For a second you get an insight of just who Taehyun can be as he laughs with guilty hands rubbing down his face, pulling at his eyes in the process as he drops the gun in your shaking ones that struggle to adapt to the weight of the pistol; and the price of Taehyun’s sins laying burdensome in your palms. It’s unnatural for you to clasp around the grip without the interception of his hand ghosting over yours. He’s not touched the blood nor did the splatter reach him, yet the foul stench of copper diffuses into his natural musk— bloodlust still visible in the menacing smile he leaves you with as he whispers, soft but with an edge, in your ear.

“You want to be a part of us don’t you, baby? You want me to trust you and take you seriously?” His hand redirects the muzzle of his gun wrapped within your fingers to Jake who lays armless with stark-awake eyes that plead with mercy you thought you could only find in teenage Jaeyun all those nights ago. Eyes that don’t look at you with disgust for your father and your doomed blood that flows most viscously with the remorse of murder, but instead forgiveness as he plasters the shakiest smile he could have on his lips.

“You remember right? That night in the closet I—I spared your life so can you…can you..let this one time go?” His voice trembles with the same fear he stammered on the very premise of the park that turned you from best friends to strangers overnight; from resting on each other’s shoulders, and dreaming of make it out of slanted-roof slums to moving miles apart from each other, unfamiliar’s in the making.

“Anyone smart would’ve ran away by now. Your little friend here doesn’t have the heart to be a proper gangster, does he?” His finger pushes your frozen-still ones up the to the trigger, dancing around the danger of possibility and the consequences of bad decisions. Amateur hands should’ve never found refuge on the mass of cold steel laced with gun powder that takes you back to two weeks ago—when you would have been on the receiving end of the bullet in that interrogation room if it weren’t for Taehyun. Who now snickers barbarically at your conscience’s last attempts to sway you—how you vowed to forbid this moment, promised to never have lost yourself in the craze of savagery in the likes of your damned father.

Except Taehyun’s read you like a book, reread every crease in the page and every torn edge to understand what it takes for you to listen, for you to obey at his orders as he kisses the back of your ear gently with a hand slithered around your waist. “What are you waiting for baby? Fucking shoot him.”

Jaeyun still has hands in the starchy-thick air for you to see through the facets of his crimes, “We planned to make it…” Jaeyun gulps loudly with a quivering intake of breath, “—planned to not end up like our parents…we were going to make it to fucking LA, shit we can make it out of these slums together I’ve made enough cash— “

“Damn incompetent bastard, all he’ll do is leave you again like before. You know I won’t leave you baby, Eternally will take care of you so pull the trigger for me, will you?”

Sometimes you wish that the arms that cradle you would be Taehyun’s.

And not the fingers that graze the white of your knuckle from clammy hands clutched around the pistol.

Because when he jeers at you with the exact spite of the slums you crawled from all those years ago, “Fucking shoot him!” Your head blanks with white noise as your finger desensitises from the lurking dread that seeps into every lining of your body; your eyes water with the cries of the thousands you’ve disappointed, your ears chiming with funeral bells as you mourn the loss of your remaining innocence and your mouth runs dry watching the river flood and saturate with the vermillion that mixes with bright scarlet.

Dead, at the ungranted mercy of your hands, Sim Jaeyun was.

And you thought you had made the right decision when Taehyun coos at you in that same babying tone. I knew you could do it baby, you see that? self-defence, so don’t be scared about making the right decision— there’s nothing scary about a bullet or a gun.

But the right decision shouldn’t inflict tears to stream out of your tearducts that dart off the surface of your burning cheeks as Taehyun drags you by the wrist again to run— this time away from the flashing flares of alternating reds and blues and blaring sirens instead of the thumping bass of the club the two of you lost yourselves in argument in.

Right decisions don’t fill your lungs with acid that leaves you feeling sour all over.

Right decisions don’t cause the sweat of your palms to drip with a reddish-hue as your mind traces back the blood trail that connects you to the solemn stiffness of the corpses.

But making that decision offered you the equally blood-stained hand of Taehyun, who interlocks his fingers between your corrupt ones in a non-church-bell marriage that vows a pact of secrecy.

Your very own oath and definition of ‘til death do us part’ as he shoves you into the backseat of his car with guilty-as-good hands that roam over the blemishes of your body.

And the rings you exchange on each other’s fingers as he enters you with a lust-crazed purr followed by the damning of his blasphemous hips that cave into the darkening of your impure womb.

For if Taehyun was a sin to indulge in then he shouldn’t feel like the closest route to Heaven. And if it is a crime in itself to even look him in the eye you’ll repent for an eternity to stare at him from the comfort of his work room. As he inks shallow, loveless matching tattoos on skin that can’t be scrubbed of blood, nor the bitter tear stains he loves to death.

Because you know what they say,

The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

A/N: WHEW my longest fic as of now done !!! Definitely a tougher one to write because it’s got darker themes and a lot of concepts i’m not super experienced in, but it was fun to redraft and old work <3 not proof read sorry. !!!

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[gooses-book-reviews]

I Dream of Dancing

I found this book on i I Heart SapphFic, was very excited to read it since it seem liked something id enjoy and that site hadnt failed me before. I was very disappointed with how that site failed me this time. This is book is in the kindest possible words absolute, complete, unapologetic drivel. It is barely worth the paper it is printed on. It tries to emulate Terry Pratchett's style of writing and fails every time. Its footnotes are more annoying rather than funny and its prose is quite frankly shit. Furthermore the author seems insecure in her own writing adding a footnote just on how a minor grammar change was intentional rather than accidental. This reads as her being afraid of online criticism. Its either that or she needs to get a better editor. The only positive i have to say about this book is that im glad society has progressed far enough that even trash transfem/lesbian romances can be published. Up until this point i thought mindless, poorly written, badly edited, poor quality romance books was something only Cishets and CisGays could do. 1/10, Dont waste your money on this drivel.

[maneoxsidus]

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕙𝕚𝕞. | 750 Challenge

Hisoka loves Dongchul.

That much is simple, evident, plain as day. It's a fact. The sky is blue, grass is green, turtles are reptiles, and Hisoka loves Dongchul. Unconditionally, with her whole heart, she loves him.

She'd deny it until her dying breath, though. Maybe even past it. Like hell she'd ever let him know- because while she might consider him to be her best friend, she knows that to him, she's just a distraction. A means to escape the stress of the daily grind. Her place in his life was evident by the simple fact that they only spent time together in one of three situations:

 During his regular visits to Sunrise,

 During their training sessions, and

 During their late-night rendezvous.

To be quite honest, were it not for their training sessions, Hisoka might think that all she is to him is a decent lay and a pretty girl that gives him free drinks if he looks sad enough.

But they do train together, and she knows she's more than just a pretty face in his bed. She knows he cares about her, in his own weird way. Maybe if she squints hard enough she can delude herself into thinking he sees her as a friend too. She can convince herself, if she day dreams enough, that when he's walking down the streets of Seoul that every now and again something in a window catches his eye and reminds him of her, or maybe that when something funny or frustrating happens at work he makes a mental note in the back of his mind to tell her about it when he drops by later. If she really leans in and reads into everything just a little too much, she can believe she's his best friend too. She can make herself believe, for just a moment, he loves her too.

In her defense, it wasn't like she had feelings for him she's pretty sure, anyways. The love she holds for him is purely platonic she's 99% certain. Because he's her best friend, of course she loves him. You can't just not love your best friend, after all. Can you truly call someone your best friend if you don't love them? Hisoka doesn't think so. It's only natural that Hisoka's heart swells with affection whenever she sees Dongchul's smirk-hidden smile, or the rare genuine smile that tugs both corners of his mouth upwards. It's only natural that her laughter bubbles up past her lips when he cracks a joke laced with a sarcasm that only they would understand. When her chest puffs out with pride over his praise during their training and sparring, surely, no one could fault her for that.

And as the months pass it becomes increasingly clear to the blonde that Dongchul does care about her. His method of showing it is a little unorthodox, but hey, so is hers. It's a small thing to start, really. On the way back to his place her stomach rumbled, and he stopped and picked up food first, no questions asked. It was odd, since this wasn't the usual 'eating-out' that was done in his kitchen, but it was nice. They ate, and they talked, joked around, had a drink to wash it all down with- and when his lips met hers he tasted of his order that she'd already committed to memory and half-decent beer. By all accounts, it should be pretty gross, and she cringed knowing she probably didn't fare much better, but to them it didn't seem to matter. At least, not being minty fresh wasn't enough to stop them.

That was the first time it occurred to her that it didn't always have to be "perfect", whatever that is. She didn't have to be perfect to see him, to hang out with him, to have him whispering screaming her name into the night with every roll of her hips. Because they weren't perfect. He was flawed, and so was she, and they even together they weren't perfect. They were still flawed. Their flaws weren't suddenly fixed when they were together, they weren't suddenly made whole. They don't complete each other, but they do compliment each other in a way that no one else quite does.

Even still, Hisoka knew that he was her best friend— the only friend she had that wasn't family. Dal and Dae were her brothers, Jiwoo is her sister, but Dongchul? He's just Dongchul. Simple as that. He was simply *her dude*. Her best friend she fell into bed with from time to time. And just the same way Hisoka loved Dal, and Dae, and Jiwoo, she loved him too. 

Fiercely, unconditionally, with her whole heart, she loves him.

[elsecrytt]

omfg i LOVE your demon culture headcanons, they're so fun and really make obey me so much more interesting than it already is. one hc ive always had of the devildom folk and culture is that in their courting rituals it's common to bring their mate fresh prey as a show of strength. imagine one of the brothers coming up to mc and straight up dropping the mangled body of a lesser demon at their feet and mc is just HORRIFIED but the brothers are like "what? im showing u i care and that im strong"

Adjkflshfgk oh no oH NO *OH NO* I’m so sorry but unfortunately this is exactly the kind of thing that awakens something inside of me so.

I'm gonna be real with you. Sure MC is horrified and all bc like, damn, dead body, but also... like... IDK I JUST THINK. THE IDEA'S PRETTY HOT.

I just find it narratively compelling and erotic and sexy if a character is wiling to kill for me. And you know Mammon would be like. A super cute excited puppy with a dead animal,, showing off his kill to his owner you hehe

So you’re walking around town with Mammon. All’s well in the Devildom. Maybe you stride into a cafe after a bit of a shopping spree (he says he’ll treat you, he really wanted to try the parfait here, you see - coincidentally, your date had been about to end…) and you’re sitting at your table, waiting for your order.

As you watch the nearby couples (you already know Mammon’s latest moneymaking scheme idea is stupid and you’re going to tell him no, but it would make him feel better if you didn’t shut him down right away), you come across one example in particular that looks… not so good.

Two incubi who’d come in together were starting to fight. One of them looks like he’s got tears in his eyes - you see him gesture to his phone.

You can’t hear the exact words but you can imagine already what they are by the flush of embarrassment on the other one’s face and the guilty looks, how he keeps glancing away and appears at a loss to explain himself.

Was he…?

“You cheating whore! I should have known - how could I be this stupid - " His voice starts to crack and you start to really feel bad for him, other people are watching now, "You’d just texted me last night and you were with him - ”

OOF. Big oof.

Mammon must have seen how sorry you felt for the guy written all over your face, because he caught on to where your attention was right away and whined at once.

“Heya!! I’m talking ta ya here, yer really gonna pay attention ta those dweebs over there over the Great Mammon?”

You roll your eyes (they’re shouting now). “Why don’t you watch, too? Something like this would never happen with us, it’s interesting.”

It’s like he’s got dog ears that perk right up, his attention immediately captured as you watch him blush and try to fight the urge to smile (he never won).

And when his gaze flicks over to the couple in question, a slap has gone out... but it's from the accused cheater, to his partner.

"Well maybe if you weren't absolute shit in bed, I wouldn't have to get it elsewhere!"

You actually wince at that. In public? Seriously? After he cheated...

"The audacity," You mutter, and Mammon nods.

"Yeah, you can't even compare a couple like that to us." His tone is unmissable, smug, a feeling he didn't often get to show.

(He's still blushing, but it's more of a smirk now, and if anyone can look cute while smirking it's your Mammon)

In the corner of your eye you watch Mammon's eyes gleam in the light as he gazes over the guilty party, and you remember that Lucifer is his favorite brother.

Guess they have something in common after all, hmm?

But you don't point it out, instead saying, "At least the dude is showing his true colors so the other guy dumps his worthless ass. It'd be worse if they got back together."

"Oh yeah?" He cocks his head at you.

"Well, imagine the dude apologized. Then that poor guy might take him back..."

"So what if he did, though? I mean, ya said yerself, the dude's trash. If he wants to take him back, then whatever."

You can't believe you're having this conversation. "Well, different people have different opinions. But I'd never take back a cheater. It's demeaning."

"Course you wouldn't! Ya have me, after all." He preens, and you want to smile at him again because he's just so cute.

"But what's this got to do with them?" He's genuinely confused, too, which makes you want to roll your eyes.

"It's just sad to think about someone getting less than they deserve, Mammon."

When this is met with yet more indifference, you switch up the tactics, "Look, scum belongs in the trash, doesn't it? I wouldn't take someone like that and I wouldn't expect anyone else to."

You're pretty sure Mammon would n e v e r but you give him a suspicious look anyways.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right!" There's your boy, changing gears on the fly, "You wouldn't take somebody like that. They don't deserve anything!"

He's beaming, so you're sure you haven't gotten your point across. But you always did love that smile.

Plus he's holding out the spoon bashfully, hoping to feed you a really delicious looking scoop of his parfait that came during the conversation.

When you lean forward and close your mouth over the spoon he looks like he's about to explode from happiness... it he doesn't overheat from that massive flush, first.

Augh. He is just. Too cute.

[Warning: Listen. You read the ask at the beginning. You know what it said. GRAPHIC description of an injury/dead body ahead. They’re demons. It’s fucked up. You have been warned.

Also. It's kinda romance. Like it's kinda horror but. He's Mammon. He's your good boy. He's very sweet about it even if it's kinda horrifying. Also his tits are out in demon form, it would distract anyone - ]

>Mammon: Heya! C'mon over to my room, I gotcha somethin'

You get the text. And of course, you came at once.

Mammon is squatting on his heels, arms on his knees and his hand resting on his chin while he stares at his DDD (it looks like his messages app).

His clothes are as stylish as ever, spic and span, his bright white head of hair eye-catching as always until you meet his eyes, which light up even brighter.

You notice this especially because just in front of him, not two feet away, in a pool of blood, is a corpse.

The urge to hurl is instantaneous - even looking at it makes you wince and tear your eyes away, but you have to see - and a terrible recognition strikes you.

From - from the cafe? Oh god. Oh god. You remember him - he was standing up and moving, he was speaking, you'd heard him talk earlier today and he's - is he -

“We need to call - ”

Mammon cuts you off, for once. "Hey! I know I ain't the best at magic but even I can take care of a body."

Your heart thuds in your chest. There's a gaping hole in the center of his - it's? - chest. The ribs curve outwards as if something in his chest exploded, the bones exposed with tiny bits of flesh and redness clinging to them in stringy, thin webs.

And then your eyes follow down to its exposed crotch, where there's nothing but a bloody stump - if it could even be called that. Fuck, you can see the -

You have to look away again, back, over into Mammon's eyes.

"A body? Mammon, this is a lot more than just - just a fucking body!!"

He perks up at that, "Ya better believe it is! I wouldn'ta done this for anyone else! Look at him - he got what he deserved. Just like you said!"

Mammon smiles up at you, his eyes flickering, and -

And he looks just as sweet as he did offering you a parfait, just as bashful and unable to hide his delight. A trace of insecurity, as if you're not sure he'll accept his affections, when he's offering you a corpse.

"Mammon..." You trail off, not sure how to say it - just in that tone he knows to think twice about.

You watch him stand, eyes down and bashful like a chastened dog, and a dark aura engulfs his figure - in an instant.

And now you know where all the blood is. his chest is splattered with it; it's a good think his outfit is mostly leather because it's all over him. His boots are all red.

Mammon has never scared you before. And now...

...he still doesn't, because he's giving you puppy dog eyes.

"I gave him just what he deserved, and brought him here for you to see!" He tells you eagerly, fixing his eyes on yours.

Mammon kicks over the body, closer to your feet; its arm rolls out limply as it sags there, like a ragdoll made of flesh.

"I'm the second strongest of all my brothers! The Great Mammon! Not just anybody would do this for ya, and almost nobody could do it as fast!"

Every sentence feels like a new swerve. You look away from his eyes, down -

"It's all for you, ya know? Because... well... I like ya so much..."

- down - there's barely any of the white markings visible on his chest, splattered with redness that trails down in rivulets as you step forward to look at it -

"A-and ya said yourself! He deserved to be punished! So I... y'know. Did what ya wanted... I did your will, master..."

His voice lingers in your ears, high but keening, somehow, that longing you know buried deep inside always calling out -

the rise and fall of his chest, so perfectly defined even with red all over it -

"For you..." Mammons says your name and your heart jumps, "I brought him here for you, at your feet, on the ground, dead beneath you where he belongs..."

You stumble over it, the heavy mound of bone and muscle in the vague shape of a body, tumbling over at your touch, pallid from the loss of blood.

The skin is waxy, and before the massive gash in its chest can make itself known you draw your eyes back, back towards the magnetic pull of Mammon's plaintive words -

His eyes draw you in, in an instant, as you seem to step forward, right into his arms... even as he falls to his knees.

Mammon's face is beatific, adoring.

"Let me show ya... how much I can do for ya, all that I wanna do for ya, I can make ya feel so good.."

You lick your lips. The demon from earlier might be dead... but your heart is pounding - desperately, and something much lower along with it.

[havin-a-wee]

Appointment (Doctor's Orders Part 2)

read part 1 here

send me a request here

masterlist

pairing: gynecologist!harry x reader/doctor!harry x reader

word count: 4.7k

warnings: the filthiest of filth. like im serious this is basically pure smut.

its finally here! im in love with the way this turned out and i hope you guys are too! i got a few requests for this, and im actually really liking these two characters, so lemme know if you want me to make a series out of this!

Y/N's texts are in italics

Harry's texts are in bold

You felt like a kid in a candy store as you skipped out of the building, being welcomed by a setting sun. You weren’t just skipping out of excitement though, it was also because if you walked normally the shaking of your legs would be extremely noticeable. Luckily, when you arrived you had managed to find a parking spot nearby, so it didn’t take you long to make your way to the small black car that you recently purchased for yourself.

A small noise signaled when you unlocked the car, and you slipped into the driver’s seat quickly, shutting the door as you sat down.

You let yourself slouch, your back hitting the leather seat and a heavy exhale pushing through your flared nostrils. Finally, you had a moment to take in the events that just took place, and the excitement and nervousness flowed through your brain. Luckily, there was no regret swirled in with your feelings, although you were sure there wouldn’t be. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the ideal situation to have your first orgasm, but if this was how Harry would make his way into your life, you couldn’t complain. You closed your eyes and sighed, the post-orgasmic haze you’ve heard so much about finally settling in. In the darkness a smiling face appeared, and you grinned as well at the detailed picture of Harry your mind had concocted.

Suddenly, you sat up with a gasp, gripping the gear shift with your clammy hand. You had just remembered about the small piece of paper sitting in your pocket. The piece of paper with the number of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen written on it. He had told you to text him when he got home, so obviously you had to get home as fast as possible.

Having been driving since you were 16, the motions were second nature, and the only thought you had to put into it was when you were checking to see if there was anyone in the way before you backed out of your parking spot.

Your apartment was only 10 minutes away, and you spent those 10 minutes half paying attention to the road, half thinking about the man that had his fingers inside of you. The thought in itself was causing arousal to pool in your already soiled panties. The expensive lingerie was undoubtedly going to end up in the trash, but you’d rather lose a pair of panties than lose a chance with Harry.

You pulled into your designated spot in the parking garage attached to your apartment building, and ran so quickly to the elevator that you almost tripped on your own feet. Thankfully the silver doors slid open without delay, and you swiftly stepped into the small area. Your manicured finger frantically pushed on the ‘door close’ button. The last thing you needed was someone walking into the elevator with you, seeing your bright red complexion and flushed features. Much to your relief, that didn’t happen, and the elevator lifted you up to the third floor. Objectively, the elevator was incredibly quick. However, in your needy state it felt so slow as if you were riding the shell of a turtle. The loud dinging pulled you back into reality, your mind wandering. You were thinking about what Harry’s hands felt like, and what they would feel like on the parts of your body that he hadn’t gotten to touch.

Yet.

You fumbled with your keys, attempting to grip your phone at the same time. After a bit of struggling, the rigged piece of metal slid into the slot on the doorknob, the door swinging open after you twisted the key. When you tried to remove the key from the lock, it stayed in place, pulling you backwards and almost making you fall.

You smiled at your own clumsiness, not focused enough to allow embarrassment to develop throughout you. Again jiggling the key, it slipped out of the lock and you quickly pushed the door closed using your back. You were left leaning up against the wooden door, flipping your phone screen to face you and sticking your hand in your pocket. You fished around in the small cavity, your fingers locating the small piece of paper that was making you so giddy. You punched the scribbled numbers into your contact app with haste.

Although you wanted to text him more than anything, you reasoned with yourself for a second. Instead of clicking at the keys on your screen, you picked your head up, disconnecting it from the bright touch screen in your hand.

Sucking in a deep breath, you turned back to the phone, satisfied with your attempt to calm yourself.

Hi Harry, it’s Y/N.

Instead of immediately going for something sexual, you wanted to start off the conversation normally. Also, there was the fact that you had no idea what he was actually looking for by giving you his number. His response came quicker than you could of ever expected, the typing bubble popping up seconds after the delivered sign appeared underneath your text.

Hi! I’m glad you actually texted me, because honestly I thought you wouldn’t.

Why would you think that? I would have to be pretty shitty to do something like that with you and then ditch.

I promise I don’t think you’re like that, it’s just the whole thing happened it slightly odd circumstances haha

It’s totally okay I get it, but I definitely don’t want that to be the only time something like that happens ;)

You were feeling bold, now sitting on your bed removing the heeled white boots you wore to match your outfit.

I’m glad you feel that way, because I feel the same. Just curious, when exactly would you want to do “something like that” again?

You giggled while reading his text, practically hearing the pauses of shyness that he would take if he said it in person.

As soon as you want to.

I’m sitting in my car right now about to go home, but I could make a pitstop if you asked politely..

Will you please come over and take care of me Daddy?

You cringed as soon as your finger hit the send button. Sexting was definitely not your forte, and in the heat of the moment you had forgotten that you hadn’t indulged in that kink with him the first time.

Who knew you could be so dirty love?

Send me your address. I'll be there asap.

You tapped away at the keys on your phone, sending him your information and you saw that he read it, but didn’t respond, clearly driving to you already.

Your panties were absolutely ruined at this point, and you made the decision to take them off, gliding the lacy white panties down your thighs and calves. When they fell on the floor, you picked your feet up to remove them from the leg holes, leaning over to pick up the panties with your hand. You wanted to show them to Harry, show him how messy he made you.

You clenched your thighs together, your core pulsing like a second heartbeat. A small whine slipped past your lips, and your eyes widened at your own actions. You had never been this aroused or needy in your life, and while these feelings were new, they weren’t scary like a lot of new feelings were for you. It was exciting, and just thinking about Harry rushing over to you because he wanted you so badly was sending fire through your veins. No one had ever wanted you so much, and you have never wanted someone this much. And it’s exhilarating.

After a painfully long time sitting on the edge of your bed anxiously, a loud knock on the door had you standing up in a flash, sauntering over to the door with unnatural speed. Your arousal began to drip down onto your thighs now that you were standing. The slickness between them had them sliding against one another, but the feeling was overshadowed by the rapid beating of your heart. You gripped the doorknob so tightly that your knuckles turned white, twisting your hand and pulling the door open.

“Ello love.”

He stood in the doorway with his hand resting on the top of the doorframe, towering over you. He had that sexy smirk plastered on his face and you ran your eyes up and down his figure, taking in the man before you. He was wearing a black t-shirt, which was loose but tight enough that his pecs were defined in the shirt. He had on a pair of black dress pants which the t-shirt was tucked into. There were tattoos littering his arms, which you hadn’t seen before because of the lab coat he wore during your appointment.

You thought he couldn’t get any hotter than before, but the person in front of you proved you wrong.

“Hi,” you murmured timidly, your boldness from the texting having disappeared. “Come in,” you stepped to the side, opening the door wider so he could step into your apartment. You closed the door, and against your better judgement you turned to the kitchen, trying to find that desperation that had allowed you to throw away all of your anxieties. “Do you want water or something?” You weren’t sure what to say, so you went with the default offer for a drink.

“No.”

You spun around, looking at Harry and tilting your head in confusion.

“I want you.”

He took a long stride forward and placed his large hand on the soft skin of your cheek, leaning in and connecting your lips with his. His lips were as soft as cloud, and you kissed him back with just as much vigor. The kiss was passionate, mixing moans into the drafty air. You sucked his bottom lip and bit down lightly, and a low growl bubbled up from his throat.

Your heart skipped a beat when his tongue swirled around yours. You jumped slightly at the impact of the wall on your back, Harry pushing you into the cold drywall.

Finally pulling away to allow breathing, you and Harry kept your foreheads pressing on each other, leaning some of his weight on you.

“Y’so beautiful darlin, reckon yeh the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

His hot breath hit your face when he breathed, and you were squirming underneath him.

“I could say the same for you,” you huffed out, refusing to break eye contact.

“Thank you baby,” he cooed, placing his veiny hand on your plump cheek and running his thumb across it. The tip of his finger reached your swollen lips, and he pushed his large thumb pass them. You eagerly sucked on the digit, hollowing your cheeks and treating it like you would his cock.

His free hand had found a home on your waist, but he hadn’t moved it since he initiated the kiss, and you were getting frustrated. You reached down and placed your hand atop his, looking up through your eyelashes into his emerald eyes. They’re piercing, and you knew that one stare from him would have any girl on her knees.

The tops of his cold rings touched your fingers when you peeled his hand from its strong grasp and your waist. You were looking at him with innocent doe eyes while you lifted his significantly larger hand and placed it back on your side, but this time at the same level as your breasts. He broke the deep eye contact you were sharing to look down at his hand, slowly shifting it to cup you through your thin tank top.

“M’baby girl is desperate fo me huh?” Harry teased you and you nodded frantically, whimpering in neediness. He pulled his finger from your wet mouth and in a split second he collided his lips with yours once again, but they didn’t remain there for long. He dragged his lips down your jaw, sucking and kissing down your neck. You tilted your head to give him better access, moaning when he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot.

His hand that you had moved was pulling and squeezing at your full breast, eventually rucking your tank top up to pinch at your budding nipple underneath. You had removed your bra when you got home, and a small smirk tugged at your face when he moaned at the realization. A sheen of sweat was glistening on his forehead and you lifted your arms straight in the air, giving him permission to remove your top. He pulled it over your head hastily, only breaking the kiss for a moment when the fabric covered your face. You didn’t see what he did with the top, your focus diverted to the feeling of his lower torso. You had removed the hem of his shirt from underneath his pants, only leaving the back part tucked because you couldn’t reach it.

You splayed your hands over his hardened abs, and he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you closer in response. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, leaving hickey after hickey on the silky skin. He nipped and licked at your skin as if you were a popsicle, sweet and refreshing.

“Daddy, please -- off!” Your moans cut off your words, rendering you unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Y’want me to take my shirt off baby? Such a naughty little minx y’are.”

Despite his teasing, he pulled away from you to grab the bottom of his shirt and ripped it off in one fell swoop.

You barely had time to take in the tattoos on his chest, only being able to identify a large butterfly right in the middle before he looped his arms around your waist. “Jump.” His command was quiet, but you heard it perfectly clear.

You bent your knees and jumped up, his arms following your motions. You lifted your legs and wrapped them around his bare torso. You hugged him tightly, your arms wrapping around his neck and sinking your face into his soft brown curls. His hair smelled of expensive shampoo, and you indulged in the sweet scent. “Behind you,” you whispered, directing him to your bedroom.

Without a second of hesitation, he turned around and carried you to the bedroom. You took it upon yourself to place sloppy kisses on his neck, giving him the same hickeys he had given you.

You giggled when he bent over the bed, dropping you from about an inch off the red comforter covering your bed.

“Don’t know why y’laughin’ pet, cause m’about to fuck yeh till yeh can’t walk.” You gasped when the dirty words registered in your head, and he sported a shit-eating grin on his face. His hands grasped your thighs and he ran them up and down, getting dangerously close to your core. You were writhing under his grasp, pleas for him to do something tumbling out of your mouth. “Patience baby.” He didn’t look up at you when he spoke, instead hiking your skirt up to get a look at your sopping cunt. “Look at you, s’wet already and I’ve barely touched you.”

“All for you, only for you Daddy.” Your words were wailed, every muscle in your body aching for a release. He traced his warm fingers along the crease of your thigh, right next to the place you needed him most.

“Gonna let me have a taste baby? Wanna taste yeh so bad.” He finally looked back up at you, but only for a second before his eyes connected with your glistening pussy again.

“N-no.”

Although you greatly wanted him to put his mouth on you, there was one thing you were craving more.

“No?” His demeanor changed immediately, removing his hands from your body and sitting on his knees between your calves. He removed every source of physical contact you were sharing, and you realized that he took your words in a way you hadn’t intended.

“Still want you Daddy, just want something else.” The second part of your sentence was murmured, and you turned your head to face away from him out of embarrassment. Out of your peripheral vision, you could see him raise an eyebrow, placing his hands by your shoulders and returning to his place hovering above you.

“Look at me little girl. Y’sure yeh don’t want me to taste yeh?”

You followed his command after a beat, looking at his disheveled state.

“What do yeh want baby? M’feelin generous today.” He was speaking in pants, his curls sticking to the perspiration-slick surface of his forehead.

“Wanna taste you Daddy. Please lemme-”

You reached down to unbuckle his belt, but he caught your hand before you could.

“Thas’ what this is all about? Such a slut f’me that you’d rather taste me then lemme taste you?” His hand moved to caress your cheek, running his finger across your saliva coated lip.

“Yes, wanna suck you off so bad Daddy.” You pushed out your lip forming an adorable pout, giving him your best puppy eyes and making sure he saw the tears of desperation welling in your lust blown eyes.

“Alright, alright, how do yeh wanna do it baby?” Instead of responding, you grasped the back of his firm thighs, pulling him up towards your face. He got the hint, shifting his knees to sit by your chest. You were now face to face with his very prominent bulge, and your mouth watered at the sight. Even though you wanted to unbuckle his belt yourself, he did it for you, allowing his rock hard erection to spring free after rolling down his boxers.

He stroked himself a few times, and you lifted your head to try and get him in your mouth. He pushed your shoulder down, and made it clear that he wanted to be in control. Finally, after much anticipation he placed his cock on the tip of your tongue, which you had stuck out for him to do exactly that.

You accepted it eagerly, sucking harshing on the tip of his cock. He moaned lowly, tilting his head backwards in ecstasy. You ran your tongue along his sensitive slit, reveling in the filthy noises and expletives that spilled out of his sweet pink lips.

Once you were satisfied with your teasing, you took him in your mouth about halfway, stopping before you gagged. Your hand made its way to the base of his thick shaft, pumping the part of him that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down his cock, your tongue twisting and twirling around his member. You made sure to pay extra attention to his tip, giving it kitten licks when you needed to take a breather. Each time you took him back in your mouth, you pushed yourself further down, this time gagging after pushing him all the way down your throat. He stopped his groans of pleasure to look down at you, and he swore he could cum from just seeing you under him with smeared mascara and teary eyes. “Y’ok baby?” You nodded with him still in your mouth. You stilled for a moment, trying to think of a way to tell him that you wanted him to fuck your mouth. His hand was holding your hair out of your face as a makeshift hair tie, and you decided to tap on the wrist of that hand to give him permission. He looked down at you and raised his eyebrows, a silent gesture to assure you were okay with it. You nodded, his cock moving up and down with your head. He didn’t need any more instructions, pushing your head down on his shaft instantly.

You choked and gagged as he took control, moving your head up and down his thick cock. “Doin’ so well f’me baby, taking m’cock like a good little slut.” His purrs of approval were raspy, moan and gasps chopping his sentence up. Periodically, he pulled you off of him, allowing you to catch your breath before plunging back down on his member again.

The sudden pulsing of his cock inside your mouth was a wordless praise, and you were incredibly proud that you were able to bring him to his orgasm as quickly as you did.

He pulled you off of him again, and you heaved a few times as you filled your lungs back up with oxygen. But unlike before, he didn’t bring you back onto his cock, even pulling you back when you attempted to put him back in your mouth yourself. You cried out when he repositioned himself between your legs, back in the place he was when you were first on the bed.

All you wanted to do was finish him off, but he wouldn’t let you for a reason that was unknown to you.

“Daddy!” You were about to beg and whine to finish him off but his index finger on your lips kept you from your begging.

“As much as I’d love t’watch yeh swallow m’cum, I need t’feel this gorgeous cunt of yours.”

You quivered when the bands of his icy cold rings gripped the warm, supple flesh of your inner thighs. They dug into your skin, sending a pleasurable tingling sensation throughout your body, landing in your core.

If you were horny before, there wasn’t even a word to describe how utterly turned on you were now.

Your skirt was already hiked up from before, but Harry wanted it off fully. He ran his fingers across the waistband, finally finding the zipper and unzipping it faster than you could blink. “Bloody hell baby,” he grunted, taking a moment to admire your fully naked body squirming under him, begging for him to touch you. He wished he had a camera to capture you in this state, only thinking about one thing, him.

He stood up, his feet barely hitting the floor before he yanked his pants and boxers off. He was huge, and you stared at his prick in awe, even though you’ve been looking at it. His size was truly difficult to take in, because usually a big cock is either long or thick, not both. But Harry was both and some, and you were convinced that you would be content sucking on it for the rest of your life.

Distracted by your own dirty thoughts, you weren’t paying attention to what Harry was doing, only being shocked out of your haze when he ran two of his fingers across your sticky folds. He pulled his fingers away as your body jolted, surprised by the sudden contact. Strings of your arousal connected your cunt to his fingers, and he cursed under his breath. His fingers were covered in your juices and he stuck the digits in his mouth, sucking happily when he finally got to taste your sweet, sweet nectar.

He hummed constantly when he took the fingers out of his mouth. “Taste even sweeter than I imagined, baby. Could eat y’up all day long.”

You mewled and kicked your legs, tired of all of the teasing. “Daddy... just want you inside me!” He hushed you and reassured you that he would take care of you, leaning over your body and positioning himself on top of you. He lined himself up with you, his tip bumping your puffy clit. You whimpered and Harry took the message, finally pushing his rock hard cock into your soaking wet core.

“Fuck -- Daddy you’re s-so big,” you whined. He tilted forward, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

It took a minute for him to bottom out, Harry pushing in slowly to minimize the sting. There was a bit of pain as your body conformed to fit him inside of your tight little hole.

“Fuck baby, y’so fucking tight, might come just from this.” He had a silly smile on his face, but you both knew there was no joke laced between his words. He latched his darkened lips on an indent by your collar bone, nipping and licking on the skin while he waited for the approval to move.

“Move. Please move.”

The first thrust was hard and fast, he pulled almost fully out of you and then slammed him hips back up into you.

“Shit!”

Just like when you had him in your mouth, you could feel the thick veins running along his sizable shaft. He repeated the same type of movement for the next few thrusts, pounding into you and drawing back out over and over.

“So,” “Fuckin,” “Beautiful,”

Each of his words preceded a snapping of his hips, slamming into you particularly hard after calling you beautiful.

“Feels- feels so good, so good Daddy.” You were sobbing with pleasure. His thick cock filled you up so good it was like he was made for you.

“Didn’t even think it was possible f’someone t’be this tight baby. You’re takin’ meh so well sweet girl, so so well.” He found a rhythm, snapping his hips into yours, your velvety walls engulfing his cock perfectly. Watching himself disappear inside your tight hole egged Harry on even more, as well as the noises that your juices made when he rammed himself inside your pretty little cunt. His thumb was pressed against your clit, circling the overly sensitive bundle of nerves. Pleasure was coursing through your veins, the firey burning feeling better than anything you had ever felt before.

Your hands were spread across his back, nails digging crescent shaped divots into the skin. Each time your fingers dug into the expanse of his back he growled, so you did it after each thrust. His lips were everywhere, kissing and licking all of the exposed skin that he could reach.

“Daddy..”

He took your pebbled nibble into his mouth, unable to resist after watching your tits bounce when he pushed himself in and out of you.

“So good baby, s’like y’were made fo me,” he cooed, your reply dying in your throat when he pressed his lips to yours.

You bit each other’s lips and swirled tongues like you had done at the beginning of the night. After a minute of rough kisses, he pulled away, and you both gasped for air. You could tell his thrusts were getting sloppier, and his cock twitched inside of you like it had when you took him in your mouth.

“Was made for you, just you.”

“Thas’ my good girl.”

His hand instinctively reached for your throat, and you watched his cheek heat up when he realized what he had done. But you grabbed his hand and placed it back on your throat. “Please,” you croaked out, desperate for him to choke you and make you see stars.

He smirked and obliged, pressing on the sides of your throat but avoiding your windpipe. Euphoria overtook your body at the new found sensation and the knot that had formed in your stomach was threatening to come loose. The tightness in your stomach translated to your center, and you clenched tightly around Harry.

“Y’gonna come? Can feel y’squeezin me love, lets come together yeah?” You gave him a tiny nod of agreement, too weak from your impending orgasm to give him a better response. “Let go f’me baby.”

The knot in your stomach uncoiled rapidly, bursting inside of you and sending shudders throughout every inch of your body. Seconds later Harry released inside of you, his hot ropes of cum painting your walls. Your eyesight got blurry and white spots clouded your vision as Harry worked you both through your climaxes. You thought the orgasm he gave you at your appointment was strong, but this one sent you to another plane of reality.

His movements slowed and he removed his thumb from your swollen button, which you were thankful for due to your hypersensitivity.

When you finally came back to reality, Harry was above you, pulling himself out of you. You placed your hand on his cheek, diverting his green eyes to look at yours. “Stay in, please?” He simply nodded, pushing back into you fully. He was already hardening again, but who could blame him? Your face alone was enough to get him rock hard and leaking precome.

He rolled you two to your sides, cuddling into each other’s bare chests. You shared no more words, both of you drifting off to a blissful sleep within minutes. But you didn’t need to ask him to know that this was the first time you slept together, but most definitely not the last.

[asunshinepuff]

That’s Our Coach!

🏒So some of us on the SW discord were talking about Remus now that the final chapter of SW had come out. And we came up with the headcanon idea that Remus had figured out a way to continue his summer coaching despite now being spoiler alert if you haven’t read it (but why would you be here if you hadn’t? GO READ THE FINAL CHAPTER!!) the newest player of the Gryffindor Lions. Naturally, I got inspired and thus had to write this fic. Honestly this is the longest work I’ve done in a while and I am so excited to finally be posting it.

Course, credit is due. This wasn’t just my idea. Thank you so much to @whataboutmyfries, @im-oknutzy-trash, @bkfstclubmember and @fadedgreenmittens for coming up with the details for this idea! I couldn’t have done this without you four!

Just a heads up, despite being an ice skater and knowing hockey terms, I have never ever written hockey before. So I apologise profusely if something doesn’t seem correct. As always, full credit goes to @lumosinlove for her amazing characters!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy! 🏒

.

One Month Ago

Remus stopped at the boards smoothly, letting some of the ice spray as he hopped onto the boards of the bench. “Great practice everyone.” He exclaims with a smile, “Boys can you come over here for a moment?”

Fifteen boys, ranging from ages eight to ten skated quickly over to their coach, sliding into a halting stop - some less graceful than others which causes Remus to chuckle lightly under his breath before addressing the boys.

“Now boys, this is the end of our summer session. The next season is going to be a little different.” He explains calmly, trying to get a handle of his nerves yet excitement for what the Cubs’ reactions will be.

Naturally, this caused a chorus of assumptions all ranging from horribly bad to hilarious. 

“Are you leaving?” One boy, the loudest despite being the youngest exclaimed tearfully, and this caused a collective gasp before a chorus of the same comments. “Don’t leave Coach Remus!” “Yeah! You’re the best!” “Stay with us!” 

“Calm down, calm down. Don’t worry, it’s nothing like that.” Remus repeats a few times before the attention is back on his words, “I’m going to be playing for the Lions.” He finally announces with a smile, “And I’m inviting you guys to the first game at Hogwarts Stadium.”

He watches as his words resonate in each of the kid’s minds as they all collectively gasp, once again, with wide eyes and erupt into cheers. Most likely the smartest decision for him to currently have been seated upon the boards of the bench or else he might’ve been tackled to the ice by the Cubs.

Smiling, he watches as the boys skate off the ice and rush over to their parents, yelling “COACH REMUS IS ON THE LIONS!!!”

.

Present-Day

The locker room was buzzing with excitement and it seemed to emanate through every player. Leo and Logan were somewhat geared up already, making some sort of competition out of a play fight by tasing the other’s side with their fingers.

It was interrupted by Finn who came sprinting from his stall and jumped onto Leo, and Logan broke down laughing at the sight. Kasey was on the floor of his stall, in the midst of stretching out his legs in the splits while he was in a three-way conversation with James and Talker.

James sat leaning forward as he was lasing up his skates, and Talker was drumming on the walls of James’ stall as he sat somewhat in the middle of the room. Meanwhile, Olli, Kuny and Nado were also set in a pretty energetic conversation in full gear. Dumo sat watching the boys with Sergei by his side, and finally, Remus and Sirius were the last ones to enter the room to get geared up.

Remus stopped for a moment, staring at the stall that was now his. Lupin #6 was written on the back of the brand new Lions jersey. It felt so surreal, yet, strange. Normally he’d be here early in the morning, setting up all the stalls exactly the way each team member preferred in order to not mess with superstitions. 

But now, here he was. Coming at the same time as the others, with Sirius by his side. He made it. And yes, he loved his job as a PT, and in some ways will miss it - he cannot deny the excitement that fueled the spring in his step. The urge and want to prove himself was here once again. 

He sent Sirius a smile before they part to their stalls. On reflex, he sat at his stall and fell easily back into his old routine for stretches, calf stretches before thigh, and then when he felt ready he began gearing up.

“Mon Loup, are you nervous?” A familiar voice says by his side, as Remus was beginning to lace up his skates. He looks up to see Sirius in just his under armor, as always before games, leaning against his stall and he cannot help but smile in return despite his nerves. 

“A bit more now that we’re actually here. But I’m excited.” He admits. Spotting the paper in his fiance’s hands, his eyes widen ever so slightly. This was really happening, he’s here. He’s on the Lions about to play his first game with his love and family by his side.

It still felt so new yet so right to call Sirius his fiancé, everytime the reminder comes to his mind he has to smile. He was just so happy. “Is that the starting line-up for the game?” 

Sirius nods, giving him a fond smile in return. Most likely assuming what was on his mind before he asked the question. However, there was some mischief, and pride within his eyes, he most likely read the lineup already. “Wanna join me for the read off?” 

“Absolutely.”

The couple makes their way to the center of the locker, in the midst of the chaos, and Sirius lets out a loud whistle before yelling, “Alright! First game of the season! Let’s kick the Habs’ asses tonight yeah?” That caught the attention of the team, as a series of answering shouts of approval, all of which amplified when the team caught sight of Remus in his jersey. 

“Let’s go Loops! Rookie up!” Finn yells, laughing as he rushes forward and gives Remus a high five. 

“Coach gave the line-up for tonight’s game.” Sirius continued over the noise. He looks to Remus with a smile before he turns to the team and starts off the line-up, “Starting tonight, in the cage, we got Kasey Winter!”

Remus leans over at the paper with a grin on his face as he takes Sirius’ hand as he decides to steal the next call, “On the left, we got James Potty-Mouth Potter himself.”

“On the right, we got the fastest on our side - Remus Lupin!”

“Loops on the ice!” Logan calls out, forming a chant followed by James, Talker, Finn, and Leo. Remus couldn’t help but laugh at the antics, this was really happening. In an effort to drown out the series of chants, he takes the next announcement. 

“We got Talker and Olli on defense!”

James, in his excitement, quickly stole the paper from Sirius’ grasp, yelling above his protests, “And of course on center, we’re making the power front line here. We got the man, the myth, the legend - Sirius Black!”

A chorus of cheers rang out for those announced in the lineup, progressively dying down as Coach Arthur came into the locker room, and then it was really business time. The last of the gear and jerseys were finally dawned, laces were laced up, and the team was getting into the right headspace for a game.

Remus stood at the end of the tunnel with Sirius by his side. “Gryffindor!” boomed Frank’s voice, which echoed down the tunnel in addition to the crowd’s loud cheers in response, full of excitement for the Lion’s entrance. “Are you ready?”

Ten... Nine... 

“Re? You okay?” Sirius asks, placing a gentle hand upon his own, that was tightly gripping the pole of his hockey stick. He gasps lightly as he lets his grip slacken, not realizing that his nerves had increased since entering the tunnel.

Eight... Seven... 

“I’m... okay. Just nervous.” Remus replies honestly, trying to give a reassuring smile at the concerned look upon Sirius’ face. Taking Remus’ opposing hand in his own, he runs his thumb comfortingly across the top and squeezes it lightly. “Breathe Remus, you’ll be okay. You’re not alone out there.” He says, as they walk hand in hand down the tunnel. 

Six... Five.....

“Right... Breathe. Just Breathe.” He repeats over and over momentarily, getting himself out of his head. “It’s just the first game.” He sees Sirius nod, out of the corner of his eye.

“You’ll be okay. And you’ll play so well.”

Four... Three... 

The camera crew within the tunnels, displaying the entrance on the jumbo screen within the stadium begin rolling the cameras as the team gets closer. Distracted, Remus gasps as he’s suddenly pulled back from following the team and pulled flush against a familiar chest. 

“What is it?” He asks, looking up at Sirius with a slight tilt of his head in confusion. 

It was strange, Sirius’ eyes were shining bright as he looked back at Remus. Probably trying to gauge how nervous he actually was at the moment he assumes. “Hey, Re?”

“Yeah?”

Sirius glances briefly to the cameras that were now focused on them since they were the last two remaining, before he tilts Remus’ helmet upwards slightly, and kisses him softly. As if they have all the time in the world.

Two... One...

As they pull away, he briefly lets go of Remus’ hand, only to gently place it on his cheek. “I love you. So much.” Sirius comments with a smile.

Remus can’t help but smile in return, leaning into the touch, feeling his nerves wash away as he looks into the eyes of the man he loves. “I love you too.” 

Zero...

“Your Gryffindor Lions!” Frank drew out the words and the lights within the stadium went crazy as the team appeared down the tunnel. The order was the same as usual, Kasey came first, goalie mask propped on top of his head as he skated out onto the ice.

Then Timmy, Finn, Leo, Olli, Logan, Evgeni, Nado, Sergei, Dumo. The only difference was that James came out right before Remus, who was now second to last, and it was his turn.

It was exhilarating, hearing the cheers as Frank called his name and he skated onto the ice, right foot first. It was smooth beneath his blades, bringing him to a sense of calm focus.

There was a sea of red and gold throughout the stadium, in addition to rainbow flags, his nickname was being shouted by multiple fans and as he skated to a section, there was a chorus of a different nickname being yelled which made him laugh. “COACH REMUS!”

Stopping at the glass he waves and pounds on the glass in return to some of the boys close up to the boards. “Hi boys! Enjoy the game!” He yells up, not fully expecting to be heard but nonetheless felt the need to.

When he turns to skate off and find Jules in the stands, Finn skates by, looking at him with wide eyes. “Loops, you have a lot of children?” 

“What?” He responds in confusion, turning back behind him to the team before looking back to Finn. “Oh… No. Finn, that's my cub’s team from summer.” He says, laughing.

“Gotcha. Hey, let them back after the game!” Finn says with a smile before continuing the loop around the rink, while Remus takes off once again, reaching close to the middle of the rink before he goes back to the glass, stopping in front of where his family has a front view.

Smiling, he watches as Julian rushes from his seat to the glass with the biggest smile on his face. Julian had his Lions beanie on as usual but for once, he wasn’t dressed in a Black jersey.

Instead, he wore the Lupin jersey that he had just gotten a few days prior, turning around briefly to show his older brother. The brothers place a hand on the glass on both sides, smiling at the other as they mouth to one another.

I love you Re!! Good Luck!!

Love you too Jules!

With a quick wave up to his parents in the stands, Remus took off once again, passing by his fiancé who was already at center ice with the ref who held the puck and the Habs’ center. Stopping at the boards, he was met by James who smiled at him.

Rolling his eyes, he quickly grabbed the gatorade blue he had put on the bench prior next to two bottles of water, not wanting to mess with his friend’s superstition despite him not needing to be in charge of it anymore. He flips the bottle towards him, earning a grin in response, “Blue.”

“Always blue.” He replies with a wink before he skates off to his position on the right. Sharing a look with Sirius, he smiles before looking to the Habs’ right winger in front of him. James joined them shortly after, and the six crouched, eyes on the puck. The ref dropped the puck shortly after, and the game began.

The first period went by in a flash. With the Lions being up 1-0. James narrowly managed to score a breakaway up the ice off of a clean pass from Remus and managed to break through the Habs’ goalie. However, the Habs’ defense was strong. The Lions needed to be at the top of their game.

In the midst of the second period, the Habs managed to tie the game 1-1. So, Remus decides to push a little harder. Puck in hand, he races through the defensive line of the Habs and manages to score. With a hat trick.

His hands up in a cheer and laughing to himself, he was suddenly slammed into the boards by Sirius and James, and there was a loud chorus of young shouts yelling “THAT’S OUR COACH!” that made the three players laugh.

In the stands, there was no one more excited than Julian, who was practically jumping up and down as if he was on a sugar high. The nine-year-old wasn’t even playing himself yet he felt adrenaline for his older brother. He was just so happy!

“Yeah Loops! You’re on fire today!” James says on his right, smacking his shoulder playfully as he pulls away, heading off to the Lions goal to give Kasey a high five, then heading off to Olli and Talker.

Sirius stayed behind, having the biggest grin as he watched Remus laugh with glee, kissing his cheek briefly before he speaks. “You got a hat trick!” 

“I did!” 

Remus is freed from the board, however, his laughter and excitement has not diminished in the slightest. Joining James and Sirius back at center, the second period continues. 

.

🏒Hey you guys! 

Thank you so much for coming this far. I don’t usually like to put author's notes at the end of my works but this is an exception. And I have to admit, this one-shot took me a lot longer than I initially thought but I adore it so much.

Now, I have a question for you all.

I’m thinking of writing a second part to this (and possibly more than just another in the future), and making Lions Player/Coach Remus a regular au on my blog. What do you guys think? Let me know in the comments, a reblog with your answer or shoot me an ask with what you think!🏒

[acosfisfeysandpropaganda]

IM ABOUT TO RAGE

My rant to SJM because I have never been more disappointed and angry at a book

After reading ACOSF I just really hate SJM now. I just feel like she doesn’t even care about the product she produces now. All she cares about is drawing the series out for as long as possible and getting the most money. Like she knew she was going to make a shit ton of money off this book anyway so why put in that extra time to really do it right?

The book I just read was absolute trash I couldn’t even believe it. Nesta was my favorite character (w/Cass at #2) and I was so excited to see where her journey will take her. What I got was a character that I hated and completely didn’t match her personality. I got a person who hated themselves, was apparently in the wrong for EVERYTHING, went around apologizing to everyone, kneeling, groveling to people my girl Nesta would never had done. It made me sick.

This is how long I waited. For this book. For this story. This is how fucking long. For not even truly Nesta’s story. I got Nesta’s story if Rhys got to be completely in charge of everything. I still can’t believe I didn’t even get one fucking apology.

SJM didn’t love her enough, sympathize enough, really try to get into Nesta’s head into her thoughts, feelings, hopes. This was so disrespectful to me and to the fandom. I hope whatever the hell book you cook up next to make your forever long series even longer, you don’t do this to those character’s books. Each character deserves the respect to at least have their book half ass done and to try to do them justice.To at least give them a consistent character, a plot, not a million errors and inconsistencies.

I can’t believe that this was the most excited I’ve been for a book and you gave us this. Honestly it seemed like it was thrown together in 2 weeks, written by someone who has never read the books & don’t know Nesta at all, and with random one shots sex scenes from Wattpad and straight smut fanfic authors that you commissioned and just threw in random places.

I didn’t feel the chemistry between Cass and Nesta. No angst. No touches that made me think their was something more. I literally felt no romance reading the book. It seemed like they just had a physical connection to each other and that is it. That’s where it stops.

You have made me hate my favorite characters so thanks for that. I was nervous about reading this book because I told my friend that SJM normally disappoints and fucks me over. SJM ya did it again, I am disappointed and feel absolutely fucked over. Hope Ms. Maas has fun with her money. Though I will admit to being relieved to know where ya stand and so I can easily never read another one of your books again. I shouldn’t care more about your book characters than you. I’m embarrassed for you.

[samiwok]

social media au ; ndiy

11 || funfair

~li’s notes~ this part is mostly a written one so are the parts coming which is why it’s not so long. It’s also the beginning of the new arc of this SMAU and I hope you’ll enjoy the first part of the drama yaaay 🥳

old times || 10 <-

-> 12 || funfair II

written part

“Yn ! Akaashi !” Your grey haired friend shouted from the other side of the road, waiting for the four of you.

“Nice to see you forget the best ones here” Kuroo pouted before embracing the guy standing. You were still intrigued by his last words. You greeted him in a friendly and so warm hug.

“So what is it ? What’s the surprise ?” You asked. In vain. The boy looked at you, eyes closed, arms crossed on his chest : he was absolutely not telling you anything and you knew that. Bokuto was pretty stubborn sometimes; actually everytime. But you wanted to spend a good moment in company of your 4 favorite guys and that’s why you chased this idea from your mind.

You were having fun with them but you felt something missing from you. Someone. And all you could think about was : did you need him, or him. Your mind started to ask himself tons of questions but your friend cut it off.

“Hey Yn, I’m taking Kenma in this haunted house thing d’you want to come with us ?” Kuroo asked, smirking and probably knowing which answer you were going to give him.

“Uhm no that kinda scares me actually haha” you answered and he clapped his hands in a loud noise making Kenma frown

“I KNEW IT !” He pointed his finger in your direction “Poor thing ugh you don’t know what’s funny. But don’t worry Yn one day I’ll take you into this” he showed the house behind him. Ghosts and witches were next to the front door

“Just go into this alone fucker”

“C’mon Kenma, let’s let the no fun people alone” he winked and left with the blonde guy who actually didn’t seem to be happy for this at all. The expression on his face was betraying him.

You turned to the other duo. Bokuto was like a kid, he was the Bokuto you always knew. Happy, excited and contaminating you with his joy. You smiled when you saw his face looking absolutely everywhere, and let out a soft laugh to Akaashi’s tired look.

“Akaashi I want us to do this together, please come with me” Bokuto exclaimed

The dark haired guy turned to you “I don’t know Bokuto-san, if I go with you Yn will be alone that’s not cool: let’s wait for Kuroo-san and Kozume”

Bokuto pouted before adding “but she can come too!”

You looked at the thing he wanted to do. “Bokuto, babe, there are only 2 seats I can’t come with you”

You put your hands on the two guys shoulders encouraging them to go “come on it’s okay I’ll go buy some food for us, have fun !”

“Yn are you sure ?” Akaashi asked, kinda worried to let you all alone. But you pushed them, smiling one last time before starting to walk to the closest food truck.

The funfair was loud. There was a lot of people and different musics but also children running in the gravel. You were trying to focus on your phone while walking when you heard it. The melody. You immediately recognized. You are unforgettable. This song. Your song. And Iwaizumi’s song.

You stopped for a minute, eyes focused on the locked screen of your phone. The reflection of the lights, of the moon; and the reflection of your sad face on the dark screen. You were thinking. Thinking about him of course but also thinking of the good moments.

It’s not good enough for me, since I’ve been with you

You sat on the floor, holding your head between your hands and asking yourself what the fuck you had to do. And oh god you wished you went to that haunted house with your best friend and this idiot ex Nekoma’s captain. How you wished you imposed yourself to go on the ride with Bokuto and Akaashi. But instead you were sitting there, alone in the middle of the funfair.

“Already drunk? It’s only 10 pm”

“Ew poor girl” some girls laughed

“How pathetic”

You could hear from the people passing in front of you. How funny they were judging not knowing you were just thinking about your life. How funny they allowed themselves to have an opinion about somebody they didn’t know. How funny they were judging when you were maybe in danger and they didn’t even dare asking.

Anyways. You sighed. You were almost about to cry when the song ended. Another song started, but all you could hear at this very moment was a male’s voice coming from your left.

“Is everything okay ?” He asked softly

You were still sitting on the floor eyes looking down on the guy’s shoes, not able to raise your head, knowing it was someone you knew too damn well. It was him.

masterlist

[ taglist ] — @ongjaewonx @bokukiyoom @vrthngiwnt @meepeo @momoinot @cactuski6 @tofu-and-aesthetic @bap-kingdom @fortheloveofbakugo @daphneiris514 @noodlenerd101 @ravioliplease @eixelb27 @iwaizumi-chan @iwaigroomi @iiwah @supremebage1 @doggonudez @lilacshouko @energetic-tangerine @fuckoffyoutoad @fait-de-fleurs @oikawalmart-hq @parisaanelia @svtbitch @im-the-ruler-here @stainedjournals @xanaxdeity @kwdflash @shegrewupwithoutafather @huhkaashi @cuddlesslut @kynyta @pikawol @azgucci @settingsugas @celinaaaaa @haiq-trash @starry-magicshop @zarawkward @fallingw-angel @makkihoe @ktbio @mirakeul @uwusketit09 @wansseul @queen-lilith-ricker @seokookchan @ideshine @ynjimenez

~ TAGLIST OPEN ~

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

i hope this isn't weird but I've decided I like how you interact with this show (not something I can say for a lot of fans) and now I wanna hear what you have to say about Eric and Jenny's friendship. I have this image in my head of the two of them dying her hair pink in a VDW bathroom (Lily thinks they should've gone to a salon but that's no fun). feel free to talk for literally forever I'm actually obsessed with them ~ily

not weird at all! that's really sweet of you to say, actually. whenever i get qns like this, often the first place my mind goes to is fic, so if that's not something you were looking for, feel free to ignore the next 2 paragraphs, lmao. 

a lot of my jenny and eric feels are in these fics that i've written: "a remedy for bland sweet potatoes" (sort of like, a fix it but it doesn't fix anything - it's canon compliant and jenny & eric discuss some of the things jenny's done), as well as "the lights that stop me (turn to stone)" which is a post-canon blair/jenny fix-it in some ways, but is also a character study of jenny as a whole & there's a lot of j&e feels in there (jenny and eric are housemates! they look out for each other and defuse derena tension together LKHFKLDHG).

other fics that highlight some great jenny and eric feels (both of these are kinda sad KLHDFKLH) are "withdrawal symptoms" by lunasol28 and and "fell from grace (it left me in this place)" by @vanderwoodlings .

now i’m actually gonna answer your question........ putting it under a read more, ‘cause it got long!

anyway, to answer your question as much as possible - i have a lot of feelings and i'm not sure how best i can do them justice - i have so much to say about jenny & eric. @mysteriesofloves said this thing once about how jenny and eric's friendship sort of parallels blairena friendship, in the sense of like - you love this person so much and no matter how much you hurt each other, you find your way back together, and i think that's extremely true of them both. in a lot of ways, i feel like jenny and eric are each other's most important person - best friend, support system, family, all of that. unlike dan and serena, when jenny & eric find out about rufus and lily they're actually excited to be step siblings which i find incredibly cute.

there's also - i love the fact that during their first meeting eric tells jenny pretty much everything about how he's in the ostroff centre and why he's there, and jenny doesn't judge him or treat him any differently - instead, she shows up at his room later with board games, just to spend time with him. we see things like this at various points, i feel, where jenny & eric's lives are sort of unstable or at a low point in some way and they're both able to just be there for each other without having to do any sort of grand gesture.

there's also definitely, uh... while i see the blairena friendship parallels, i'd make my own danessa friendship parallels. much like dan and vanessa, jenny and eric are incredibly lonely, and also, deeply different. they're not like their peers at st judes/constance! they struggle to make friends, and they have to navigate that. in a lot of ways, the only real friend either of them has is each other, despite the fact that there are instances when they've let each other down or hurt each other.

@nocakesformissedith made a post that i don't have the spoons to find right now - one of her jenny masterposts - that's basically an image of eric and jenny and it's like, "don't ask gay people how we know each other- we know each other from being gay". and i feel like eric and jenny absolutely and totally had that specific intimacy of like. being queer and knowing you're queer and having sat with it for a long fucking time, in high school, when nobody else around you really gets it. to me, my lesbian jenny headcanon explains a lot of the jenny & eric closeness - it's like, when you're young and gay, your One Gay Friend feels like the ONLY person who understands you.... sort of because they are! navigating any form of queerness in high school is terrible, and i'm just glad that they had each other when they did have each other.

it’s so notable to me that like - even though j&e spent so much of s3 at odds/fighting, when jenny’s gone in s4, eric goes through a major downward spiral, with the whole damien thing and everything else. jenny was his anchor! she was the one person who made him feel a little less fucked up about everything, and a little less lonely. and as for jenny with eric - i feel like jenny’s really comfortable and open around eric, and unlike with other people, for the most part, doesn’t try to be someone else around him. part of why eric feels so alienated by jenny’s behaviour in s3 - other than the fact that she was mean to him and jonathan - i feel is just that the way she was behaving with him was fake, and whoever else jenny was fake around, she’d never been like that with eric before. this is more like my interpretation, though, it’s not necessarily stated by canon or anything.

anyway this got depressing!! i do have fun jenny and eric feelings, i promise. i bet they listen to music together and when they’re studying together, they draw in each other’s textbooks. they probably wasted time doing online quizzes together, and there’s definitely a trash tv show that is Their Garbage Show (probably much to dan and serena’s bemused annoyance in the sense of like ‘do you HAVE to quote that again?’). jenny and eric dyeing jenny’s hair together sounds like something they’d do!! (incidentally, in a script of the pilot that didn’t make it, eric had BLUE HAIR. it could’ve been canon and i am so sad that it was not!!! we came so close to getting it. blue haired little eric lives in my head rent free.) 

i think jenny and eric’s friendship is so special because it is SO normal, and literally nothing else in their lives is normal (im pretty sure i said this in some way/ form earlier) - in the sense of like. family issues. kids at school being mean. their own mental health being challenging. their lives are so complicated and heavy, both of them often end up needing to be more mature / adult than they actually are (lily comments during e’s 18th that eric has always been so “serious”, and i always think of how JENNY went to hudson and brought alison back because rufus & alison couldn’t resolve their marriage without their 14 year old daughter’s intervention, apparently). so yeah i do think they’d do all those bestie things - like, sleepovers, friendship bracelets, buying  matching clothes together, sending each other pictures of things like “should i buy this” - wrong generation, but if they were gen z kids they’d definitely have the biggest snapchat streak ongoing, and not in a performative way - they would genuinely talk to each other THAT much. 

also, for your consideration: imagine jenny and eric baking together!!! i think they’d be really serious about it, and they’d also have so much fun.

[evanescentdawn]

(31st oct)

today’s writing:

—wips: fma//ot4 fake dating disaster, aokaga//drunk, aomincest, kagakise//kisses, kagakise//future-fic, midotaka//kiss-for-luck, nobamai, ereminkasa//breath, gindok//5+1

—things exploded and led to one thing and another and now, im writing a Ed/winry/Al/Riza fic. Thank you, friends. it’s fake dating which im absolute trash for and having the best time of my life.

—was reading fic again and read ‘aomine has made bad decisions drunk’ and went, huh, okay and start to write about Aomine Drunk and Bad Decisions. I didn’t honestly know where I was heading for it, just had a line in my head and ran with it… and it ended turning into Aokaga, lol and im having so much fun with this.

—new wip! ridiculous aominecest idea that’s been on my mind actually, for some time….I Definitely think that …I have no idea as to how I was gonna finish that sentence, lmao. only past me does.

—new wip! just kagakise + kisses. I don’t even know where I’m going with it… I just had this line in mind and started to write. lets see where it goes!

—KAGAKISE LIVING TOGETHER, FUTURE FIC, GETTING TOGETHER AND SO MUCH FLUFF yeah it’s a new wip with that trope “we kiss and don’t notice until a bit later” oh my god im so in love with this idea. I really love the idea of future fic, with ryouta + taiga living together and being in love but not knowing it

—okay I was thinking about midotaka and luck because I saw this super adorable art of mido with a takao bear and was like TAKA WOULD DEFF BUY HIS FOR MIDO FOR LUCK and then remember the “kiss for luck” thing and how perfect it would be for these two and started to get writing loving it <3

—nobamai! okay, so it’s six sentence day today and I was like… what idea should I start on? I didn’t want to do for the knb ones (current fandom im in) so i decided my playlist to choose for me and it was — jjk, and thing is. I should have went for a itafushi idea but… I don’t really have any of those and so I should have went for a itafushikugi idea because of the music that came up…. but I cheated and went for nobamai because I have a lot in there y’know. For this idea, I kinda already had something in written… took that and started writing! and EXCITED to get to the noba & Mai interactions because it’s gonna be hella fun

—originally I wasn’t going to do “edition one” but! I was like, it’s good to do it because im actually on working on them! and put it up to my playlist to decide, it said aot, and so I worked on here we breath part two. it was really just editing and FINALLY choosing between the two diff versions I had (coin flip, it decided the first) and im actually closer to finish! whoop! but also I really didn’t want to finish it because I’m not really in aot mood.

—considering that one wasn’t really an sss day thing. I did playlist shift again, and it went with knb but I didn’t want to do work knb as sss day, skipped and it was orv! THERES ACTUALLY THIS WIP IVE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE FOR WITH BURNING PASSION. the lgy/kdj 5+1 wip! I edited! I wrote stuff! It’s not perfect but it’s something

—okay, this is a bit fun. let’s continue. it’s mp100 next! okay, definitely doing the ritrei wip because that one has been LONG DUE …….I didn’t end up actually working on it sadly T.T

[angrylizardjacket]

heard your name in every love song {Ben Hardy} 11

11. i picture it soft and i ache

Summary: The final days of filming are looming ever closer, and you’re pretty sure you can no longer differentiate between your character’s feelings, and your own.

A/N: no author’s note had a big day am writing this 5 mins before it goes up head empty enjoy fic. *kisses you on forehead* i lov u.

the mutant brotherhood: @daisy-lu @hervoidparadise @nedmjpeter @ultrunning @d-r-e-a-m-catchme @clementimee @that-fandom-sucks-tho @cjand10 @rest-is-detail @baileymae @rosesvioletshardy @onceuponadetectivedemigod @hazelstyles94 @bitchylittleredhead @bihemian-rhapsody @sweatyexpertgardenpanda @whereeverythingisbetter @dedxbed @xxencagedxx @glittrixvibe @a-girl-with-stress @sunflower-ben @pxroxide-prinxcesss @mrsmazzello @cubedtriangle @haileymorelikestupid @misscharlottelee @nevilles-insinuations @jovialcreatorkidtoad @brianmaysclog @sambuckywarrior @hey-yo-bedussey @bubblyanis @lifesciencesbois @elektraofcrete @diosanaz @bbdoyouloveme @kirstansworld @okilover02 @cardboardbenmazzello @dreashappyworld @juliarose21 @simonedk @greycuby @emmasunshiine @dinotje @qtrogerina @spiketacus @nympha-door-a @local-troubled-writer @emphatic-af @wh0a-thisisheavy @lustgardn @banginashton @pamacs-macs @rogerinahardy1 @tired-ass-show-girl

--

Exactly two weeks after Comic Con, only a few days after filming your Horseman scene, you wake up to a surprising amount of messages on your groupchat after Merissa had found and sent a link from an Australian celebrity and lifestyle website, POPSUGAR.

[No, I Will Not Shut Up About Their Hands – Ben Hardy & Y/N Y/L/N’s Onscreen Romance Blossoms Off Screen?]

Apparently an ‘inside source’ was able to report that you’d been getting intimate around the time filming started, and of course the writer was obsessing over your affectionate gestures during Comic Con, but overall it was trite and could be easily explained away as simply reflecting the closeness of your characters.

Thankfully, your friends don’t seem to be taking it too seriously, and are, instead, mocking the article’s lack of actual evidence, and sensationalist buzz words, mercilessly.

(Merissa) TELL METAL DAD I LOVE HIM: @y/n why does no one think we’re in love??? do I have to hold your hand more???

(Jamie) stop changing my name to Jamie Lannister: my favourite wedding tradition; you may now hold your husband’s hand

(Andrew) Keeper Of The Braincell: lmfao jam I cant wait to hold ur hand

(Jamie) stop changing my name to Jamie Lannister: 😘😘😘

(Merissa) TELL METAL DAD I LOVE HIM: like honestly who is this “”””inside source”””””?

(Andrew) Keeper Of The Braincell: hur dur yes im a production assistant I saw them standing next to each other on set

(Andrew) Keeper Of The Braincell: im losing my mind who let this get published 🤣🤣🤣

You’ve never been more grateful for your friends than you are now, so the idea of lying to them feels… disingenuous.

(Y/N) england’s best export: what r u talking about?? Obviously online tabloids ONLY tell the Absolute Truth

You know they’ll read it as sarcastic, and their responding laughing emojis mean as much, and you put your phone back on charge. Ben, in bed beside you, stirs, yawns, and asks if everything’s okay. It’s quiet and strangely intimate, and something in your chest tightens.

“There’s speculation about us online,” you explain softly, looking up at the roof, “apparently someone is saying they saw us hooking up around the time filming started,” you paused, deliberated, but Ben cut you off before you could continue.

“And the panel just added fuel to the fire, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, the word hanging in the air for a long moment, “most people think it’s just for publicity, if it’s real at all.”

“Has your manager said anything?” Ben asks, which surprised you, and you’re quick to check your email; two emails from your manager about projects that want you to audition, and an email from the director about how he needs you on set next week for a new scene, nothing about your public image.

“If you’re manager, and the studio’s PR team aren’t worried, then it’s fine.” Ben reasoned. When you turn to him, he’s got his face half crushed into the pillow, wearing the barest frown, looking every bit his character’s namesake against the stark and perfect white of the hotel’s sheets. Your phone goes off again, and you pick it up, holding it up to read the message on your lock screen.

“Who’s ‘Tell Metal Dad I Love Him’?” Ben asks, more amused at the name than anything else. You turn the screen off once you’ve gotten the gist of the message; Merissa’s lamenting that she doesn’t have anyone to ‘hold her hand’.

“A friend from back home, Merissa; I think she’s got a crush on Michael,” you explain around a yawn, before remembering the email from the director. Ben hums, content with the answer, smiling against the pillow as he closes his eyes and falls back asleep with ease.

You read the few pages of the script you’ve been sent, an unnamed scene with no dialogue. They want you on set when the X-Men are being held in the government facility. As a Horsemen, you’re meant to be thousands of miles away in Cairo, but the script is very clearly set in the facility. There’s no-one else in the scene. There’s no dialogue, just a description of the scene, and a song; Everybody Wants To Rule The World, the Tears for Fears version. You’re the only one in the scene, and the set is specified as being covered in blood with wailing sirens, but no people around. You’re confused to say the least, but the director explicitly states that you’re not to tell the rest of the cast.

“They want me on set next week,” you say anyways, and Ben makes a sleepy noise of question, “not sure why.” He makes another noise, and pets your arm affectionately before rolling over to his other side.

When you get to set on Wednesday, the last day of filming for the facility set, it’s already been trashed, and you’re told that Hugh Jackman’s cameo went spectacularly. You’re a little sorry you missed it. They don’t redress the set, they leave it looking grimy and destroyed, but when you get out of hair and makeup, there’s a door you hadn’t seen before, glowing with white light, and there’s a pair of crew members fitting the door with a pane of glass.

It’s sugar glass, you’re told, and you’re going to be punching through it.

Holy shit.

“What’s this for?” You ask, and the director looks to someone who’s dressed like an executive.

“We’re playing around with a few ideas,” the director tells you vaguely, and you frown, “we can’t tell you just yet, I’m afraid.” Is the best explanation you get.

There’s a person in a green screen suit on the other side of the white door, in what turns out to be a medical-esque room, which somehow is just more confusing. They won’t tell you what he represents. You’re told that it’s whatever you want most in the world, that that unidentified person represents your deepest desire, which what is mostly written in the script, and you play along.

They play the song as a backdrop of the shoot since any actual and diegetic sounds were going to be added in post by the foley team for clarity, so eventually you find yourself just kind of vibing. You’re not sure what to picture at first, your hand resting on the glass, while the green-suited hand meets yours take after take, but you eventually start seeing it as a Mirror of Erised from Harry Potter; you see yourself at the top of your game, successful and revered and on top of the world.

Technically it’s a clone punching through the glass, but since you no longer have to switch between ‘clone’ and ‘original’ makeup, there’s no need to have your stunt double step in when it can all be done in post.

There’s something cathartic about getting to punch through the sugar glass, once- twice- three times, a new pane each time, until the director was happy, and something deeply satisfying about the green-suited person’s hand resting against yours, then yanking you into the bright white room. In your mind, you were playing it as though your future, successful self was pulling you into her world, promising that it would be yours one day.

It only takes a few hours.

The director seems pleased. The executive seems pleased. Still, no-one will explain anything to you. You get out of costume and makeup and are sent home for the day, no closer to understanding what it was all for.

Ben sends you a message, asks you how it went.

[good, I think] you send back, but you’re feeling strange and good for reasons you can’t quite explain.

The strangeness, at the very least, leaves you the next day when you show up to the lot they’d built the Cairo set upon, seeing towering green screens behind piles of rubble and artificial smoke. The set for the final battle. The beginning of the end. Sort of; there was a lot more of the film to shoot, all of the outdoor scenes at the Xavier Academy, but there was only one or two scenes that you’re required for after the final fight had been filmed.

This is where all the combat training comes to a head; when you’re not being filmed, you’re going through fight choreography with Kodi and Ben, finally showing off everything you’d been learning, all the effort you’d been putting into your training.

Your character’s everywhere in the fight, clones distracting and fighting and tackling, and Ana’s a godsend in these instances, as are all the stuntpeople, who seem excited to throw themselves around with seemingly little regard for their own safety.

But finally – finally – you get to the fight between Cassidy and Nightcrawler, and you’re begging the director to let you do the first few takes yourself. Both the stunt coordinator and the director give you a dubious look over, and you feel anger rise in you.

“I haven’t done all this training for nothing, Ana –“ and you turn to your stunt double, expression fiery, “I can do it, can’t I?”

“She’s been diligent as hell, give her a chance,” Ana told them seriously, her voice unwavering and arms crossed, looking like a more muscular mirror of yourself in full costume and makeup.

“Does she need extra padding?” The director asks, talking as if you’re not even there. Ana, however, looks at you.

“Do you?”

“No,” voice resolute, you look at the director, unflinching, and he at least has the decency to look a little sheepish.

It takes half of a day to film the fight between just the three of you, actors switching out with stunt doubles like they’re square dance partners.

And maybe you’re running on the morning’s caffeine and nothing else because your nerves and excitement are making you a little sick, and maybe you hit the ground too hard again, and again, and again, and maybe Kodi’s stunt double punches too quickly for you to react without actually getting hit – he spends a full five minutes apologizing, but you’re grinning, running on adrenaline, already ready for more. You feel alive, like the whole process has been leading to this, and in a way, it has.

There was a startling intensity to your acting when you fought; it startled the rest of the cast who hadn’t been at your other fight scenes, while the Horsemen just seemed proud. Of course, you were proud of them too, you’re a team, a unit, like the X-Men but, you know, worse. Morally. You Horsemen liked to argue that you were cooler than them, and honestly if they’d ever heard any of you proclaim as such, they didn’t argue back.

The point is, with both you and Ben fighting Kodi, or even his stunt double, you moved like a single fluid unit through the choreography, ducking and weaving and striking like it’s a dance. You’re all teeth and performative anger, and the moment cut is called, you breathe out all the intensity and smile. Between takes, you’re electric and bright, breezing through the day, quick to get into Cassidy’s mindset, leaving it behind easily when you break for dinner.

And then it’s just you and Kodi, your character’s final fight, and you’re strapped into the aerial harness. It pinches at first, but when you’re lifted off the ground, there’s delight written all over your face.

“I get why you like it up here,” you grin down at Ben, who was laying on the ground where he had been thrown earlier in the fight. You’d been in the harness before to rehearse the fight, but with both you and Kodi in full costume, it took it to a whole new level.

There’s a shift here, in emotion, in intention, and it takes you a while, almost the entire time they were setting up the shot and everything that went with it, to settle into that mindset, that raw bitterness and loss, fury that Angel was injured – and by the mutant that you and Mystique had freed, the audacity. But you get there, fingers twitching, itching for the fight to begin.

It goes smoothly, you and Kodi pulled through the air as you trade blows, enthusiastic and dangerous, but never really in danger, and when they finally wrap on the scene, you’re glowing with sweat, breathing hard, and beaming. The moment you’re on your feet, you throw your arms around Kodi, laughing, and he’s laughing too, exhausted, hugging you back.

“I knew –“ you delighted, “I fucking knew that would be a blast to film!”

“It’s been a pleasure kicking your butt,” Kodi grinned, all cheery and blue, and you can’t help but laugh as you step back, clapping him on the shoulder.

“The feeling’s mutual,” you assured him, and you both have the go-ahead to leave set, get out of costumes and makeup, and go home.

There are moments you’re on set the following day, doing short shots or sequences with other characters as your clone, or a shot of the original Cassidy, alone, flinching as she feels a clone take a hit, but there’s a scene that has you buzzing with anticipation, and dread, at the same time.

“You ready to die?” You ask Ben, you, he, and a collection of other cast members are all out for drinks after a hard week of filming. Alexandra snorts a laugh and Ben grins, shaking his head mostly in disbelief. When he looks back up, however, there’s a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Beneath the table, you rest your hand on his knee, and tap your thumb against him once, mirroring a gesture you’d noticed him doing more often when he seemed to notice you flagging during filming. Now, you’re looking at him with question in your eyes; you okay? After a moment, he reads the gesture easily and smiles, relaxes the set of his shoulders; you feel him trace a check mark against the back of your hand; I’m fine.

The warplane set feels tiny when you finally get on it the following week. It’s you and Angel against the X-Men, against Jean putting the plane into a nosedive and Nightcrawler trying to teleport everyone away and ultimately succeeding. Angel dies in the crash, with your clone beside him.

There’s a practical effect where it makes it look as though Angel’s sharp wings have cut through the roof of the ship as they’re trying to get away, and that piece of the roof falls through as you jump down onto it, and into the cockpit, quickly followed by Angel. You’re actually just jumping onto a crash mat, but the effect’s nice.

And then Jean puts the plane into a nosedive, and you and Angel stumble back with nothing to hold for support, thrown to the back of the plane as it’s practically in freefall. Angel stands, offers his hand to you to help you to your feet, and the pair of you struggle to advance on the X-Men.

On set, there’s murder in both your eyes, practically a pair of terminators until the X-Men get away, which was a sharp contrast to how you’re joking with the others in between takes. Ben, however, is quiet and thoughtful, which is not entirely unexpected, his character’s about to die.

Then it’s just the two of you in the cockpit, the X-Men have gotten away, and the plane’s about to crash. It’s just you, Ben, and a small army of crew members.

“Hey, I was thinking,” Ben waves the director over in between takes, chewing on his lip as he finally voices the thought that had been plaguing him since the scene had begun, “what if, when Cassidy looks at me, instead of her reaching out, I –“ he pauses, giving a furtive glance to you, and then to the director, “I try and shield her with my wings.”

A very long moment of silence ensues as both you and the director mull over the suggestion, and Ben, with quiet joy, watches the horror pass over your face.

“That’s heartbreaking,” you mutter, eyes a little glassy as you see the scene play out in her mind, “I’m just a clone here.” You say, more to clarify than anything else; Ben’s eyes are bright.

“I know,” his grin is all teeth, looking at you with a newfound enthusiasm. “It’s instinct, right?” He prompts, and looks to the director.

“Ben, my boy, you’re gonna make me cry,” he says sincerely, “that’s perfect.”

“No hope for Angel now, but he can still…” he shrugs, and you’re pretty sure when you see it in theaters, you’re going to bawl.

There’s no more reservations in his performance now, and you feed off that energy, let it fill you head to toe, the anger that turns to fear and desperation. At first, you’re thrown to the front of the warplane, and then you’re just leaning in to each other, the wings to be added in post, but a few takes in, he takes the initiative after you’re thrown to the front of the warplane, and wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close as you brace for impact. You’re frozen for a few moments before the director calls cut, reset.

That’s how you do it, over and over again, fitting into his arms, dwelling on how it feels like the end of an era. The plane crashes. Angel dies. Over and over. Cut, reset. You realise you don’t want this to end – the scene, the movie, what you have with Ben. You’re in your own head for a few takes before the director calls that they’ll get one more take and then move on.

Thrown to the front of the warplane, look to Angel, realise this is the end. There’s something in Ben’s eyes, a fear, a desperation. He doesn’t want this to end either. You act on instinct, on impulse this final take, and when he reaches out for you, you kiss him, hard and desperate. He seemed to have anticipated this, both his arms around you, holding you close, still moving as to shield your character as best he can, but you’re digging your nails into him, shaking in his arms.

“Cut!” The director’s voice sounds very far away, and you barely pay him any mind, still wrapped up in Ben and the moment. The director calls cut again, louder this time, and this time you heed him, but only in that you and Ben break apart, but don’t step apart, breath coming out in heavy pants

Fuck.

“Okay, you all have half an hour, meet back here at four!”

You and Ben laugh, exhausted, breathless, and he leans his forehead against yours and swears quietly. He taps your back with his thumb once. You trace a check mark against the back of his neck. You repeat the tap against his skin, and he gives a soft chuckle, kissing the corner of your mouth when he traces the check mark against you.

“Okay, everyone mark the time; I want everyone to know I was right,” you hear Evan’s voice above the chatter of the crew, “and you all told me I was crazy!” He sounded smug, and you could only laugh harder, finally stepping back from Ben.

“You assholes really let me go about defending you and saying it was all for show?” Alexandra is smiling, despite the disbelief in her words as you approached the rest of the gathered cast.

“Sorry, Alex,” you told her, reaching out and giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, but she just rolled her eyes good naturedly, her gaze flicking from you to Ben.

“It makes sense,” Kodi shrugged, but Evan’s eyebrows shot up.

“It makes sense? You’re the one who told me you thought they were together, but you didn’t want to believe it!” He laughed, and Kodi, though you couldn’t see if he was blushing for his makeup, you could tell.

“We’re not together together,” you corrected, wrapping an arm around Ben’s waist as you said it; he nodded beside you in agreement, and absolutely no-one looked like they believe you. Ben leaves, since he was finished for the day, heading to hair and makeup, and after Alexandra calls you ridiculous, in the most kind and loving way she can, you slip away to wait for him.

There’s only five minutes left of the break by the time he’s out of costume and has had the makeup scrubbed from his face, but when he steps out, and sees you, his whole face lights up.

“So…” he starts, and it’s a little strange, to not be walking on eggshells around each other for fear of people finding out.

“So…” you grin back, bouncing a little on your toes.

“You’ve still got a scream to film, don’t you?”

“Well you did just die,” you mused, and Ben’s smile softens, “that shielding idea really was genius; it’s gonna be crushing on the big screen.” There’s pride in your words, and Ben turns red around the ears.

When he kisses you this time, it’s soft, his hands holding your cheeks, smiling against your lips, as if savoring the moment.

The director calls that break is over.

“I’ll see you after, right?” Your voice is soft, is hopeful, and Ben grins.

“’course, now go kick ass.”

And with a spring in your step, you do.

[prince-septimus]

When the first suicide sqaud movie dropped I was just so happy to get Harley content (props to Margot she kills it) and there's a lot I like about that movie. Although looking back I can't help but see that they did Harley dirty? and honestly did not seem to value her, at least to me it seemed she was just there as jokers shadow like thats all a backdrop to the joker

I get her origin/creation in the animated series and that originally her character is tied to his purely because of that, but there's literally no reason the movie had to use that. her backstory simply could have been she saw a lot of shit as a therapist in ARKHAM and ending up trying to give treatment to the joker was just the icing on the cake so she decides screw it I'm gonna go have fun in Gotham and embrace a little bit of the crazy. Orgins and comic storys change in slight ways all the time. because of Ayer Sqaud BOP had to try break her away from joker (love bop no complaints about it) but Ayer Squad she's jokers shadow/backdrop/doll/thing then bop have to try break her away from his character so that she stand on her own as a character and then we get tss (yayy) and harley is finally 'free' to use as her own character and portray her own stories she's not all wrapped up in the jokers story. DC/Warner Bros don't seem to have much planning and thought into what way they're gonna lay future movies out and that's fine they don't need to have thier version of an mcu and dc movie directors get to put thier own spin on it and be creative without really having to worry about long term continuity but it seems like they maybe get over excited and end up not listening to fans/caring about anyone elses view of the character except their own and yeah it's thier project but the characters are important to everyone not just them

And I can't even with her 'suit/costume' in the Ayer Sqaud, jokers property plastered all over her, I liked her hair and the bat and the jacket was okay i guess, I really don't think costume wise it was a decision of 'oh harley would think the tiny sparkly shorts are cool and that's why she's wearing them' it blatantly seemed like 'harley is jokers trash and hey everyone let's look at her ass cuz she ain't worth much else in the movie and she doesn't have much else to offer'? It just sucks to me that Harleys first movie appearance was primarily Jokers accessorie and the sex appeal of the movie

Sorry for this unasked for rant but I am so grateful for BOP and TSS and her costumes/suits in those movies felt way more like harley is wearing that cuz she thinks it's cool compared to Ayer squad where it felt like harley is wearing that so we can attempt to get more views on the movie via harleys backside

I mean for all I've said there i dont hate the ayer suicide sqaud it sounds like I do but I don't 😅 and I don't hate DC movies tbh DC is my favourite just cuz I care more about their characters cuz of the cartoons I watched as a kid and comics and I've only literally read one marvel comic so because of that I do have more of an attachment to DC this is so long winded opps

To summarise my bullshit I like dc I like all the movies even ayer sqaud but Harleys character was handled poorly in the beginning

im putting this under the cut bc i also made a long rant djgsgjsg

i think harley quinn in the dc movies is the best example of male gaze vs female gaze, while also showing what it's like when you let the actor themselves have a say in the character.

david ayer is a great director and i would love to see what he had truly set out to do with suicide squad by seeing his cut of it, but there was so much i disliked about harley's story in that movie. at the end of the day i've come to accept it because it leads into the character she becomes in bop and tss, but this was definitely harley being seen in the male gaze, something that her character has all-too-long dealt with in the comics.

bop was directed by cathy yates, a woman of color, and this immediately meant there was going to be a change in harley's character and her design. this is the female gaze and it meant that harley is actually going to be seen as a character that we love bc we can tell she was written by a woman (christina hodson) and directed by a woman. (this can also be seen by the small action of canary putting her hair up in the middle of the big fight scene at the end). overall bop was very much meant to be the opposite of suicide squad in terms of how they deal with harley. it's basically the recovery stage for her character.

and tss. my dear sweet tss. i love how james gunn handles her character and i love that he gave margot some creative control with some of it, like the removal of her rotten tattoo. i think tss is great in those moments where we see harley being her usual self (when she has sex with the dictator) but james gunn doesn't just focus on harley like that, he gives us scenes like when joel kinnaman is found shirtless and sweaty or when john cena is straight up in his underwear and takes up half the screen. where david ayer spent half the time focusing on sexualizing harley quinn, james gunn switches it up. and i love that.

and im in the same boat - i love suicide squad. i think its a decent set up to bop and tss and i would love to see the ayer cut, but in terms of harley's character, it sucked. but when bop was released and started to kind of fix harley and put her on this path of recovery, it made what ayer did in suicide squad work better. i still dont like how harley was sexualized in suicide squad, but im not as mad anymore now that it can be explained better with 2 other movies backing it up.

this is a long way to say that you're absolutely correct.

[yicruz48]

My Review on the Teen Titans(2016) So Far

Date Written: March/14/2020-March/18/2020

Updated: May/10/2020

[Overall review of Special 1, Annual 1 and Issue #20-40]

My Opinion So Far [Issue #20-40 written by Adam Glass]:

-> In comparison to the first 19 issues of the Teen Titans, issue 20 and on have been bearable.

-> I will reiterate this over and over again; I will never understand why create new characters (Djinn, Roundhouse and Crush) when DC has a perfect stash of characters that Damian is already acquainted with (Colin, Maya, Surren, Maps and Jon). Although, having characters like Red Arrow (Emiko Queen) and Kid Flash (Wallace West) apart of the Teen Titans is understandable.

-> But again, in comparison to last group of Teen Titans [issue #1-19], I favor this group more. The first 19 issues are just literally Starfire, Beast Boy and Raven parenting Damian in Bruce's absence.

-> In my opinion this group is much more balance in terms of heroing experience:

A) Literally new to being a superhero and working in a group: Djinn, Roundhouse and Crush.

B) Still figuring out their place in superhero world: Robin, Red Robin and Kid Flash.

-> I am totally in favor in Kid Flash being considered the “moral compass” of the group. But so far in the Glass’s run haven’t really seen Wallace really prove this.

->It really shows that Glass had no idea or didn’t bother to do research on Emiko. Glass wrote Emiko as a sort-of Damian clone (And we all know Glass doesn’t write Damian well, so a badly-written-Damian-clone). Emiko is much more sarcastic and upbeat type of individual and wasn’t written that way.

->You can also tell Glass didn’t do research on Wallace. Wallace has a love for comics, is actually quite intelligent and is a prodigy engineer, but none of that was really expressed in the 20 issues.

->Crush, AKA Xiomara Rojas is a character besides the core three that I’ve grown to like. She is an empowered latinx Lesbian feminist who could care less what you think of her. But her backstory is rooted in stereotypical and racist beliefs. Her adoptive parents were druggies who were constantly running away from legal issues...ring a bell? Yea, its the common stereotype that latinos are all drug dealers, a stain on society and always run away from the legal ramifications of their actions. As as a latina myself, this was was extremely disappointing to see. 

-> I have a lot of issues with the hyper-focus on Robin, as much as I love Robin content, I feel like like every-other mission the Teen Titan’s have revolves around Robin. I would like to explore Red Arrow, Kid Flash and Roundhouse’s character development more. And I believe writer’s are totally capable of advancing Robin’s character development without the mission being tied to him anyways.

-> I ABSOLUTELY LOVE Robin’s ongoing goal to create a criminal system better than their superhero processors (mainly Batman and Superman) who only arrest criminals in a prison with “a revolving door” which criminals always escape from. Although, I ABSOLUTELY hate how Adam Glass has handled how Robin has gone upon learning the best system.

-> I have to admit, I like how most of the members are comprised of teens that...

A) Been raised/used to kill; Robin, Red Arrow and Djinn.

B) Are related to villainous characters; Robin, Red Arrow, Kid Flash, Djinn and Crush.

In the words of Kid Flash, the Teen Titans are just, “a bunch of screwed up kids,”

-> I strongly dislike the love triangle that Adam Glass (the previous writer) was creating between Robin, Crush and Djinn. I felt like Djinn was just created to mimic the popularity of Damian x Raven and it just lessens the value of characters like Crush and Djinn. (Plus I am on the side that believes that Robin should developing his friendships before developing a romantic interest). Hopefully, Robbie Thompson (New and current writer), will throw that idea in the trash. Although I wouldn't mind Djinn × Crush though😶.

-> Also I hate the connection Adam Glass created between Robin and Roundhouse (Billy Wu). It was soo unnecessary, and he could've found another creative way to get Djinn a trapped in her ring🙄.

-> Love the growing friendship between..

1. Robin and Red Arrow

2. Red Arrow and Crush

3. Kid Flash and Roundhouse

4. Crush and Djinn

5. (Would like to see Robin and Kid Flash’s friendship grow)

-> The build up to "The Other" for over 18 issues [Issue #20-38] was disappointing. I am still trying to understand the villain motivations because it made no sense whatsoever besides the obvious fact that Adam Glass was attempting to give Robin yet another useless redemption arc he didn't need.

-> Excited at the connection between “The Book of the Damned” and Batman #666 ( I will most likely make a post expanding on this). This offers an explanation as to why Damian was suddenly using magic in that one Batman issue and claiming he could take down Superman with magic in another issue.

-> Robin's "Prison", AKA torture chamber. Although it's not out of Damian's character to believe that his father's way of imprisoning villains in Gotham is GREATLY lacking better security, I DO NOT THINK DAMIAN WOULD CREATE A PRISON, much less a torture chamber. Damian does research on ALL the batfamily including his own father, he would know that Bruce attempted something similar  and failed which would make Damian hesitant about creating his own. Instead of developing his character this whole fiasco with the prison just ruined it and gave Damian haters another tool in their arsenal to “prove” Damian is evil (which no, its just bad writing).

-> Yes, I will acknowledge that Robin is not the kindest of the batch. But Blackmailing Black Mask with threatening to put his son's life endanger-even if he was bluffing-would not be something Robin would do. Robin is known to have compassion for children (*cough cough* Batman: Streets of Gotham) and wouldn't use a child as leverage to get his way EVEN if he was desperate.

-> Robin basking in the pain of his prisoners. LIKE EXCUSE ME, WTF. Like Robin does enjoy beating up criminals who deserve it but the way Adam Glass wrote it made it seem like Robin was a sadist and a psychopath.

-> Pissed off they killed Emiko’s development by killing Deathstroke. There really wasn’t any real reason given as to why Emiko “killed” Deathstroke. 

-> Don't get me started on the fight between Red Hood and Robin. JUST DON’T.

But I have hope:

Teen Titans issue #39 and #40 written by Adam Glass and Robbie Thompson.

As you may or may not know, Robbie Thompson has now replaced Adam Glass as a writer. And his first issue he worked on was released February [issue #39] and I've already been seeing some improvements. Robbie will be fully taking over after issue #41.

-> Robin has stepped down as leader. Leadership in the Teen Titans will now be a collaborative approach.

-> The Teen Titans struggling and learning on working as a group instead of working under one leader. They've already failed their first mission as a team without Robin as leader. Which I'll give them a break for, they've recognized how poorly their plan was executed themselves. But this just shows that the writer is demonstrating that the Teen Titan's is still learning how to best work together without a leader.

-> Robbie Thompson is now writing Damian more in character. Instead of writing him off as an asshole for no reason like previous writers.

-> Confirmed Damian went to hell after being killed by Heretic. With an added plus of the Teen Titan’s finally learning a bit more about Robin’s past.

-> Brought up Damian’s ongoing internal struggle of finding his own path that isn’t influenced by his father or his grandfather.

-> I’ve gotta admit, issue #40 has exceeded my low expectations I have set for the past 19 issues.

What I am Actually Looking Forward to [Upcoming Issues]:

Teen Titans #41 / Teen Titans Annual #2

Written by Adam Glass and Robbie Thompson

-> Finally, we get Batman's involvement in all this. I just hope he doesn't beat up Damian like he did Jason 😒. I’d like to add there was actually foreshadowing for this encounter in Teen Titans #26 (I believe).

-> But the only reason I am looking forward to this because it seems like Robin has been keeping this new group of Teen Titan’s secret (including their base), or at least heavily restricting Batman’s involvement.  

-> And even though I think I know why Damian has been trying to keep this new Teen Titans a secret from Batman (if my theory is correct), I'm curious to hear it myself from him (if the reason is written well).

-> Don't get me wrong, I am pissed that the writers decided Batman is going to fire Robin. Although, I am not against Damian being his own superhero (I actually don’t want Robin to take up the Batman mantle), but I can see DC writers abusing this. Killing his character development and making him evil like they've been foreshadowing in some comics 😒.

-> Although, I am not sure if it's really gonna happen, or Damian got the memo, because Damian appears to wear the Robin outfit in future covers of the Teen Titans.

-> I am excited the current Teen titans getting a glimpse of Batman's and Robin's current strained relationship(maybe even learning more about Robin’s upbringing). The Teen Titans (except Red Arrow) are always criticizing Robin for his way of thinking without questioning the influence to his thinking.

Teen Titans #42

Written by Robbie Thompson

->Batman kicking them out of Mercy Hall?  I am actually kinda of excited for a Teen Titans without a base. 

-> But I wanna know what this means; less oversight by Batman or more?

-> I wonder what will motivate the team to retrieve Robin back into their team? The only one's who actually seem to have some sort of relationship with Robin is Red Arrow and Djinn, besides them, everyone seems to despise Robin

Teen Titans #43

Written by Robbie Thompson

-> We are FINALLY getting a proper reaction from Robin to Nightwing's near death. What we got from Nightwing Annual was definitely not enough.

-> Apparently, Damian goes on a hunt for KGBeast (who shot Dick). Which I don't see as out of character because we all know how much Damian cares for Dick, who is a brother and father figure to Damian (more than Bruce).

-> Hopefully, the Teen Titans don't let him kill or have lethal vengeance against KGBeast because that would just kill his character development 😡. 

->I wonder if this issue will tie in with the Joker War where apparently Dick is suppose to get his memories back. I doubt it, but thought I’d mentioned it.

I've been reading Teen Titans because I've been desperate for new Damian content. But it seems like the comic is finally starting to get interesting with Robbie on board.

I wanted to give you an honest review on what I've thought of the Teen Titans so far just in case you've been on the fence about reading it or not. I've tried not to hold back on my criticism so my review is as honest as it can be.

So I'll leave it to you guys to decide whether you will read it or not.

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 25

Chapter title: But Can You Brave What You Most Fear?

A/n: I HAVE HAD THAT ENDING SECTION WRITTEN FOR MONTHS AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED. LOOK THE REST OF THE CHAPTER IS ABSOLUTE TRASH AND I KNOW THAT BUT I LOVE THEM AND IM SO SORRY THAT THIS STORY SUCKS

First | Previous | Next

words: 5000

summary: Tensions run high as the courthouse is under siege

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene,  murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, abuse, graphic descriptions, alcohol, shooting, crying

Ao3 Link  

“Liam quiet!” Patton shushes him, keeping a steady eye on his friends. Regretfully he ushers the man towards him, hearing the frantic sounds growing loud as they approach their location. “Its locked, come on” He pleads, Emile finally calmer, trying now to stay calm for the two children. Liam bangs once more on the door but huffs as he joins the group.

“What's the plan?” He spits, ignoring the clear animosity they emanate towards him. Emile pulls out his phone, Willow follows suit, both in frustrated shaking of their devices. Patton swallows trying his, ignoring the photo that tugs at his heart. Logan and him smiling, the twins giggling as they control the men, he shakes away his thoughts trying the numbers.

“Nothing” Patton notes, shoving the reminder back into his pocket. “We need to get out of the open” He cautions, Remus stifles a scared sniffle, reaching for his father. Patton takes him in a heartbeat, cradling the fear-stricken child. Valerie nuzzles comfortably into Diana, her tears staining the lawyers suit.

“Maybe we can find some others?” Emile suggests, his eyes examining the world around him. Patton clicks his tongue, Emile recognizes the face.

“I fear we might be the only people…” He covers Remus’s ears, Diana follows with a confused Valerie “Still alive… and I fear thats exactly how they want it” Patton sighs, wishing he had not ignored so many tell-tale signs. His happiness, this unfiltered joy, he didn't get it, he didn't deserve it, and he sure as hell wasn't feeling it right now. After a petrified moment of silent realization the group moved quickly, the hallowed halls leaving a different sense in the lawyer.

“We should split up” Liam offers, Emile rolls his eyes in a scoff, the remnants of his tears stinging. “We can look for different exits! Its not a bad idea” He whispers his last part, was that...embarrassment? Patton focuses on Remus, the young boys breathing worried the father, soft kisses upon his forehead as the pair argue about Liam's idea. After a resilient ‘Fine’ from Emile, Liam claps his hands. “We have five people, excluding the twins-

“Six” They turn, a breath of relief as James waves. “Looking for an even number?” He jokes through staggered breaths. Patton smiles, a sad twitch but alas. The way he takes charge of the group, overpowering Liam easily brought a happy satisfaction to the father. That was until he made his pairings. “Willow and Diana, go look for exits through the courtrooms” They nod, Patton ignores the soft affection he thinks he witnesses. “Patton, you take the twins and uh… Liam, look through the courtyard and towards the back” The first part made sense, he wasn't leaving his children. He wasn't here to argue, he couldn't upset the children more. Diana, after an apologetic look, secures Valerie in Liams arms. No man should look so disgusted by a child, and yet Liam looked as though he might faint. “Emile and I will look towards the main entrance, the police should have already been alerted. Look above all, stay safe ok?” James squeezes Patton's arm, a comfort as they part.

“Hey, you stay safe ok?” Emile takes Patton aside, He looks the lawyer in his sparkless blue eyes. “Above all, its you and the twins. If it comes down to it…” He glances to Liam, the man stands trying to figure out how to hold a child, the anxiety rises fast in Patton. “Leave him behind, I love you and he is not worth it. Pat?” Emile refocuses the man, Patton agrees knowing he could never do that. They split easily and quietly, each group traversing through the halls.

“So Logan...” Liam begins as the two creep through the offices. Patton scoffs, turning to him, fear hitting him as he looks upon Liam's face.

“Really? Right now?” He questions, this pure hatred wasn't him but at this moment he wanted nothing more than to be home and not here, with...him. Liam shrugs, what else were they going to talk about? How could Patton had fallen for that face so many times, now he simply felt sick, he wanted nothing more than to see Logan. Wake up from this nightmare, his children running to wake him up, Logan's arm lay over him. “Liam, I cant do this...ever...now” Patton falls again, any bit of confidence he had built up...shattered.

“Yes now” A sultry whisper, when did Liam get so close. Patton pushes him away, only a nudge as he remembers Valerie. “Sucks to suck” Liam laughs, god that sound...it pierced. “Come on cupcake, lets be honest, you miss me” Liam tickles, Patton yelps, jumping away. Valerie shrieks as Liam squeezes too hard, she manages to scramble away finding herself safe behind Patton.

“Come here angel” He mumbles, lifting her up, though harder to carry both, he didn't care. “I love you both” He promises, sweet kisses on both of their foreheads. The jump, the stutters, everything he had worked so hard to leave behind fell apart. And now he felt as eggshells were beneath him and Liam controlled his every feeling and step. He was simply a puppet in the mans game.

Bang

Too loud, Patton clutched to the walls, feeling lightheaded. After five years, through every tribulation he thought this, at least this was gone. But as he felt himself sinking and things went up in smoke, he knew...the panic was setting in. And he couldn't breathe. Liam took his side, relieving him of Remus, he helped situate him on the floor.

“Patton you have to get up” Liam requests, Patton shuts his eyes, the only thing he could feel was a shaking Valerie. “Come on cupcake” Liam pleads, and there it was. He knew that voice, he knew that soft spoken beg. ”I love you” He tries

“No Liam! Im done!” Patton cries, his hands tight on his packed bags, Liam stands at the door a snarl upon his pristine face. How Patton's blood ridden face compared was awful, but then...then Liams defenses fell. His lips loosened as his body collapses ready to embrace Patton. “Let me out” A pathetic whisper

“Come on Patton, Im sorry” His gentle tone carried like a song, he took Patton's hands, the bags cluttered the floor. “It won't happen again, please stay, I love you” He lied. A moment of hesitation before Liam wrapped him up, kissing his neck before nuzzling into his neck. And Patton fell for it, every goddamn time.

“Get off of me” He commands, a shallow breath. His eyes open, a dead glare forward. Breathe love, you're okay. With Logans words imprinted in his mind Patton regained himself, taking Remus back with a careful smirk. “I'm with Logan, and I love him” Liam groans, stomping his childish foot.

“What's so great about the lawyer?” Liam fights, Patton couldn't believe they were getting into this right now? “Why is he so good?” Liam grabs Patton, turning him as they face one another. But Patton wasn't going to shrink, not now.

“He's not” Patton swallows, looking at Remus and Valerie's shining faces, happy to be with their father. “He's not good, he's divine” Patton admits, a blush and a flutter at the mere vision of Logan in his mind. “He's my divine” Patton chuckles, he strides away, maybe he was going crazy. Maybe the adrenaline of this tense situation finally caught up to him, but he kept going. With no regard to whether Liam was with him or not.

Because he didn't care about Liam

~~~

“Patton I would like to-” Logan shakes his head, turning onto the highway in the clear night. “Patton maybe we have a moment?” Logan tries, the sour taste on his tongue. “Patton, if you have a brief second-” Its not going to take a second Logan, he chides himself. The streets empty at this hour, the clearing into the courthouse however?

Why was it so crowded?

He parks, a little sloppily but his mind had other ideas. He reaches the door, pushing through the rummoring crowd, finally reaching the ‘do not cross’ tape, the yellow hurting his eyes. He scans the front lines finding Virgil talking to another office, he taps him.

“What is happening?” He inquires, his calm manner hiding his panic. Virgil turns to him, his already sullen face sinks deeper into the dark that surrounds him. “Virgil…” He starts, but the noise finishes the thought for him.

Bang

“Pattons in there” Logan identifies, the whisper hissed. Virgil nods, looking to a seemingly determined Remy. “Emile” He breathes, Virgil bites his lower lip one final time he glances towards a furious Roman. Logan shakes his head. “James too?” Logan was concerned, but the first name stuck. Patton, no doubt the twins. The box in his coat pocket becomes heavy with dread. He fears it may rip through his fabric, dropping through the floor. “Patton” Logan goes again, Virgil recognizes the slight shudder in his voice. He takes his arms, bracing himself, knowing his own grief must wait.

“Im so sorry Logan” He laments, for whatever they must face next. Knowing these hours would be heart wrenching, and Logan wasn't prepared. Logan smiles, its terrifying, he looks just past the tape. Empty, suspension as they await, the swat teams advance but they want to do something.

“Patton, Virge… please I must...I” He struggles, what must he do? So much, he has too. He begins to make a move but Virgils too quick, Remy joins him keeping the lawyer back. “Come on!” He screams, he didn't mean to but the silence felt numb. “Please” He cries, real tears, he hated the feeling but hated this so much more.

“Lo, breathe bud come on” Virgil takes him to where the officers are set up, seating him with some water. Remy rubs his hands together, the small whimper from a baby catches both of the men's attention. Logan's eyes go wide as Remy cradles Thomas, shushing him the best he can through his own fear. He wasn't the only one with something, someone at stake.

“I apologize,” Logan says, Remy turns to him, waving him off. No one had seen the detective so silent. “Let me take Thomas, so you can focus” He offers, a truly grateful look and Thomas sits sweetly in Logan's arms. “Where the north wind...meets the sea, there's a river full of memory” Logan hums gently, watching the curious look on Thomas smile at his intrigue. Remy stops his tears turning back to defenses, an encouraging squeeze from Virgil. “Sleep my darling safe and sound” He rocks Thomas, watching his eyes fall into a sleepy river.

“So we know there's a shooter right?” Remy gains himself, Virgil nods looking over the transcript so far. “We don't know how many or where right?” Another nod, Virgil cringes as he hears Romans stifled fears. He sits next to Logan, both discussing over hushed whispers their worries.

“We know that there have been casualties, and according to our heat signatures...there eight people inside” Virgil explains, Logan perks his ears up, a soft hope as he listens. “We cant seem to track or locate the threats, they must be using something...it also seems they disposed an EMT, we cant communicate at all” Virgil informs, rushing as the situation only worsens.  

“Ok breathe, the team is in there and-”

Bang

But this time accompanied by a scream, at least they were close. Everyone froze trying to identify the noise. Logan pours his energy into calming the baby, letting the world move on without him, ignoring as Remy breaks trying to go beyond his own security perimeters. Wishing he could cover his own ears as the cries, sobs and screams only grew, unbridled sadness oozed from each of them.

“Ok enough everyone!” Haley commands, her declaration silences the crowd. Once joined they become their own pieces, each a story, someone they love and care about. And only eight would be relieved. “Yes ma'am?” Haley points, Logan follows her scowling as Gloria and Arlo strut to them, no concern simply annoyance.

“My son and his partner are in there” She states, Logan furrows his brows...partner?

Oh god

Oh no

“Liam is in there?” He gapes, Gloria looks to him, no qualms as she examines him. “Virgil” He pushes, the detective understands, getting on his walkie. He listens as Virgil warns the swat to arrest Liam when they find him first, for safety measures. “Keep Patton safe” Logan begs, the men can't respond.

“Oh don't be ridiculous” Gloria chides “Im sure he's fine, I mean really this is a tad dramatic” She laughs, Logan goes to say something but it seems Arlo has his own control for once.

“Gloria are you serious?” He exclaims, turning to the shocked woman. “Our son is stuck in there with a monster and lord knows who's pulling the trigger!” He huffs, Logan watches feeling a prideful smile. “Can you for one moment be human and care?” His desperation matches that of Logan and Virgil and Remy and Roman. Logan nods to him, a shared moment.

“This doesn't redeem anything you have done, especially to Barbara and Patton” Logan reminds, Arlo smiles softly. No doubt picturing his children.

“I know, but I hope its a start” They shake hands, before Logan returns his attention to a cooing child, a spark of intrigue as he fumbles with Logans tie. He sat rocking Thomas again, tuning out the absolute panic that spread through the crowd, simply staring straight ahead. Praying that Patton would emerge, a sweet grin as he tumbled forward with the twins.

Thats all he could do

And listen to the constant-

Bang

~~~

“Anything?” James wonders, shaking yet another door. Emile huffs but to no avail as his efforts fail as well. They regroup in the center, going over every move and every door they've tested. Emile picks at his tie, letting the silk calm him.

“Surely the police have been notified and have sent in a team” Emile knows how the precinct works, he's seen this a million times. If he's got his knowledge down, there should be a swat team parading through the building right now, searching for survivors. “What if we just tried to sit and wait?” He proposes, James shrugs no harm no foul. He directs Emile to a hidden corner in one of the rooms, they kneel listening to the solemn silence.  The door opens, they clutch to each other as multiple feet shuffle in.

“Clear!” A voice declares, Emile shakes his head jumping up.

“Not clear! Not clear!” the team turns, as James and Emile approach them. The leading man turns to his walkie, clicking the button to speak through, the emotion that washes Emile as Remys voice speaks back.

“We found two of the eight, bringing them back now, over” He informs, Emile bites his lower lip.

“Copy that, split up the team and find the others” Remy commands, Emile can barely steady himself. The next few moments are pure terror as they walk in the open, following the swat team to safe haven. Every turn petrified the new father, and every small creak stopped him in his tracks.

But nothing hit him harder than coming out into the clearing and seeing an expectant Remy, both eyes locking as the world around them disappears. Remy could have, and should have waited till they reached the line but instead jumping skilfully over, pushing past the team, right up to Emile.

“Remy!” Emile practically sobs, falling safe into his partners arms. Remy squeezes him tight, promising to never let go. “I love you so much” Emile whispers, ignoring more excitement from around them.

“Right back at you” Remy sighs, pulling away through hesitancy. “Come on” He leads them back over, securing Emile behind the line, sitting him down. “Logan” Remy identifies, the lawyer nods placing the sleeping child into the doctor's hand. Granting the trio their moment in time, frozen as happy as they were.

“And you're sure you're ok?” Roman questions rather forcefully, James scoffs with playful laughter. The judge examines his boyfriend, checking every inch of his seemingly safe figure. James takes Romans cheeks, stroking them with gentle affection.

“Im okay, I promise” After a tender kiss, they retreat to a restful place. Sitting with exhaustion through their adrenaline. Logan watches as Virgil stares at them, regretful pools strain his eyes. Logan knows he should comfort him, but he feels numb, the clearing nwo remains empty, no one in or out. Just a pair of anxious, blue eyes, hoping with every last cell in his body.  

~~~

“Where the north wind, meets the sea” Patton hums carefully, the twins napping peacefully in his trembling arms. “There's a river...full of memory” Liam listens, the voice so quiet, the tune carries through his mind, dancing gracefully through the echos of the courtroom. “Sleep my darling safe and sound” Patton continues, sitting in a hidden corner of the room “For in this river, all is found” He promises, kissing them on their forehead as they nuzzle into him. The chill of the room hitting them soon however.

“Thats a nice song” Liam comments, locking the doors after their trail led to a dead end of exits. Now deciding they must sit and wait.

“Logan sings it, it seems to work quite well” Patton dreams, picturing the mans soft face as he sings to the giddy twins. The night stars reflecting on his perfect eyes, twinkling with intrigue for more. Liam rolls his eyes through a grunt, restless he paces. “The more noise you make, the more likely it is for us to get caught” Patton warns, keeping his eyes on his children.

“Whatever” Liam scoffs, kicking the rug below him. Patton shakes his doubts, swaying delicately to keep the children at ease. “Why here? Why now? Why us?” Liam rambles, Patton ignores him, figuring his silly mutterings had no meaning. “What if they're targeting us?” Liam poses, Patton swallows, the thought crossed his mind a couple of times.

“That's ridiculous, who wo-”

“Patton Hart!” A grunged voice screams, the sound pierces yet no source can be located. Liam eyes him with fear.

“You were saying?” He mocks, Patton shushes him, gesturing desperately to hide. Liam obliges through his own scared manner, the shallow breathing heard from both ends. The door crashes open, and Pattons instincts fight. His hold on the twins tightens as he pushes into the plaster hoping he might just melt into the wall.

“Patton Hart!” It repeats, Patton clasps his mouth, ignoring the stifled tears that cascade down his cheeks. “Come out, come out wherever you are” It teases, Liam shakes and Patton prays for once the man keeps his mouth shut.

But no one was there, no one, no human resonated in Liam.

He just was

“Over there!” A timid confession, Patton bites his hand. “P-patton is over there” He knows Liams pointing, he knows in only a matter of seconds everything would be over. “Please dont hurt me” Patton wanted to laugh, how many times had he uttered that same plea, that same beg. To Liam nonetheless. Ironic…

“Go” The voice demands and Liam scatters, his feet echo down the hall before disappearing. Patton was alone, and it was over, he had failed.

“Im so sorry my little angels” He whispers, the twins cry into him, shaking like they could never stop. “Im so sorry” He strokes them gently, hoping they find solace in these last moments, praying they would be spared.

But the universe and whatever higher powers work in a strange way

A strange way indeed

“Get on the floor! Drop the weapon and hands on your head!” Someone new? No...there were many bodies. They filed in, a beautiful rhythm as they surrounded the criminal. It went on but Patton remained frozen, until the last silent drop fell to the room. “Mister Hart?” He dares look up, a man in uniform, bright white ‘SWAT’ letters placated. “You're safe now, lets get you out of here” He offers his hand, he offers an exit from this nightmare.

The next few moments were a motionless blur, they walked calmly through the building. Ignoring what seemed to be the piled bodies, Patton felt empty but refused to let the team help with his kids. Nothing sparked in his eyes as they traversed what used to feel like his home away from home. Nothing was alive, until they reached the crowded clearing. A hush over the crowd as the team appeared, but nothing would compare to when Logan and Pattons eyes met across the tense air.

“Patton” Logan refuses to heed Virgil's cautions about crossing the line, he didn't care. He made his way slowly, a staggered breath before he reached the father. “Love” Was all he could manage, Patton thought he couldn't speak but he fell into the lawyer. Allowing Logan to take his cheek, kissing him so gently. Checking each twin so meticulously.

“Im so sorry” Patton mumbles, Logan laughs, shaking his head. Relieving the clearly struggling father from Remus, the young boy feeling safe instantly. At this moment they didn't care about the commotion, they were here. “I love you” Patton needed to tell him, from the first night to this moment the words had never felt so true.

“I love you” Logan replies, the phrase used to feel so weird as it tickled his tongue, refusing to fall for anyone besides his mothers. But now, it felt like the pieces just fit. “Come on, they cleared the building, lets give you some time” He ushers the family away from noise, watching as Virgil and Roman follow them. “Breathe Patton” Logan assures, squeezing his hand.

God it felt so good to hear it, not a fading memory, but the words imprinted in his mind.

~~~

The air had calmed, and after many ‘Are you ok?’ and angry promises from Virgil the four felt like a machine again. Jokes and jests, Roman and the twins, Virgil and Logan's debates, it felt comfortable. James, Emile and Remy soon joined them and Patton was excited almost, forgetting the event.

He was targeted...and it had failed.

He should feel on edge but something just felt right? He felt safe, maybe that was premature but he was surrounded by people he loved. The conversation only livened and Patton found himself yawning, leaning on Logan who took him with no push back. The box in his pocket became more prominent, the lawyer swallowed standing with Patton.

“So targeted?” Virgil asks, Patton nods, practically relying on Logan for support. “Patton is there something you aren't telling us?” Virgil pushes, the normal expression should not be on Patton. Why was this so ok with him?

“Im vegetarian?” He wonders, awkward laughs but Virgils not convinced.

“Why don't we resume this conversation at a later date?” Logan proposes, aware of the uncomfortable fidgeting Patton does. Murmurs of agreement from the rest of them, a grateful kiss from Patton seemed to shut Virgil down. “We will be back, Im going to get Patton some water” Logan informs, Roman nods his charge of the twins set now.

“Thank you” Patton nudges as they take a stroll through the sleeping building. Logan smiles, kissing his forehead, even though a short separation he had missed him dearly. He decided now was as good as time as any.

Because he was sure

“Can we talk?” Logan asks once further from the group, Patton nods allowing Logan to take him away. Logan takes his hand carefully leading him into the empty room, their steps echo as they step further in, Patton looks around, his eyes marvelled. Logan tugs harder making sure Patton keeps up, he smiles at his boyfriend as the seemingly nervous leads him to the middle of the room. Patton looks dazily around everything, it's just so relaxed and calm.

“Patton” Logan clears his throat, the lawyer turns to him, cocking his head. Logan will never get over the sweet innocence his partner radiates, the absolutely adorable way he composes himself.

“Hmm?” Patton hums, Logan takes both his hands, fiddling with his fingers gently. He can't help the urge, leaning in slowly he kisses Patton softly, surprising the smaller of the two.

“Sorry, I jus-” He's cut off by a gesture of return, Patton cups his cheek as he kisses him back. It's safe to say they both melt. Once he pulls away, he sighs content, shakes his head quickly however. “Ok I have something to say, and I need you to listen” He asks, Patton rubs his thumb against Logan's cheek reassuringly. Logan swoons, shutting his eyes, feeling the warmth against his face. Logan kisses the palm of Patton's hand, allowing the smaller man to giggle.

“I love you starlight” Patton confesses, as he had done so many times before. “Now go, tell me!” He encourages, Logan nods ready.

“Patton...you are the smartest person I have ever met, you never, ever fail to amaze me” Logan breathes as Patton cups his face, letting go was not an option. The room resonated with his love, his words echoed, Patton couldn't miss them. “From the moment you walked into this exact courtroom ten years ago, to this very second, you've been my everything” How do you reciprocate something so strong, how can you explain your own words?

“Lo-” Patton tries, he has so much to say. He's not sure where this is going but damnit if he won’t tell Logan how much he loves him.

“Please, let me finish” He begs, his eyes twinkle, Patton's favorite feature. The absolute excitement in his eyes, the hinted buzz as he generates thoughts. He nods staying quiet at his request “Patton, you are the strongest, kindest, most loving person, and I don't know how” He admits, they laugh dryly. “Im serious, you've been through...quite a lot in your life” Patton shrugs hoping it'll stop the tears. “There aren't words…” He stops, his breath stutters, there really aren't, this overwhelming pang in his chest, the absolute adoration in his eyes. “There aren't words to describe everything I feel...I don't even know what I feel” He says, tilting his head up to stop the tears. He can get through this. Patton smiles, sadly wiping them away for him. “Patton, I love you, from the smile you gave me as you sat down for our first case to the moment you asked if you could kiss me” He reminisces, Patton sucks in a breath, he'd like to do it again.

“Take a breath divine” He requests watching his partner struggle to get his words out. Logan laughs through his sweet sorrow, allowing Patton once more to rub his thumbs under his eye, wiping away more tears. The prickly feeling quickly washed away, replaced by warmth and safety. A promise of love.  

“I-i promise I can get through this” He only half jokes, Patton has to wonder where this came from. Not that he doesnt love it, and that he isn't vibrating to return everything Logan says to him, to give him all the love he so deserves. He removes his hold from Patton's waist, lingering as Patton's hands meet his own. He inhales slowly, a deep breath closing his eyes, he begins his descent and Pattons heart drops. Logan kneels shakily, Patton can feel his hands move fast, Logan goes to his pocket. “P-patton Hart” He stutters, Patton squeezes tightly to his hand. “Will you marry me?” He meets his tear dewed eyes, the bright star behind the glasses. The box he holds out, a beautiful perfect ring awaiting an answer.

“Youve got to be kidding me” Patton scoffs playfully, his heart beats fast he can hear its pulse, Logan feels the panic set in. “Only me” He shakes his head, Logan recoils his hands, feeling a deep flush. Patton goes to his own pocket, a small velvet box emerges. “A walk in the park, everything planned out, under the stars just like you like it” He mumbles, Logan stands, a calm floods him, the urge to scoop Patton up smothering the man he holds so dear overtakes him. “Oh! And yours was so good, I mean yes of course and…” He rambles on but Logans eyes go wide, he cups Patton's face stopping him in his tracks.

“Y-yes? You said yes?” He rushes, Patton nods unphased. “Oh..oh!” He exclaims picking up the lawyer, he spins him around delighted, squeals of laughter are released. He sets him down meeting his lips, Pattons arms make their way around Logans neck returning the gesture. They pull away desperate for air, clutching to each other. “I love you Patton” Patton smiles bright, a toothy grin spread across his face. Logans not sure what happened, the way his frozen smile disappeared so quickly, Logan doesn't have time to register. Had he said something wrong? The shortest breath released as Patton lurches only slightly forward. He had missed the high-pitched ringing that had entered the room seconds before, but he didn't miss Patton falling limp in his arms and the increasing amount of something warm oozing in his hands. “P-patton?” He fears, He descends to the ground with Patton still in his arms. His eyes dart around the room quickly then back to Patton. Everything happens so slowly, he doesnt understand whats happening, until he sees the dark red bleeding from Patton's abdomen. “Oh god...oh god! Patton! No no...no! Help!” He cries, his hands applying heavy pressure to the wound. He hugs him closer, he can't even see anymore, the fogginess and blurriness of his glasses and tears well him up. “Patton! Please! God no! Someone!”

Take a breath divine

I love you my starlight

“Help...” He pleads softly

[ubernoxa]

A Stupid Dare - Chapter 11: A Pair of Idiots 

A Guns N’ Roses FanFic

Chapter Summary: Duff and Delilah being cute. That’s it. That’s the chapter

“Good morning,” Delilah woke to Duff’s hot breath on her back.

“Good morning, Duffles,” Delilah giggled back at Duff’s confused reaction.

“Duffles?”

“Yeah, Duffles,” Delilah replied messing up his already messy bleached puff of hair.

“I’m gonna go make some breakfast,” Delilah wiggled her way out of Duff’s arms. Once she stood up she immediately felt Duff pull her back down.

“Hey!” Delilah squealed as she fell back onto the mattress.

“What’s up?” Duff asked as he wrapped his arms gently around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Hopefully the roof, I’m not a fan of getting rained on,” Delilah replied earning a chuckle from Duff and a frustrated groan from Slash.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” Delilah said as Slash’s eyes fluttered open.

“It’s okay,” He lied as he rolled over and covered his head with a pillow.

Once he heard her leave, Slash threw his pillow over towards where Duff sat.

“what the fuck!” Duff easily caught the pillow that was thrown at him.

“I’m not saying that I want you two to have sex in your bed because I don’t wanna see that, but you seriously need to fuck her or something,” Slash said in a hushed tone, so Delilah wouldn’t hear him.

“Dude,”

“Seriously, it was absolutely painful watching you last night. Don’t get me started on this morning. How long were you watching her sleep. That’s creepy shit if I ever knew it,” Slash defensively held his arms up as he spoke.

“Slash,” Duff sighed as he plopped back into his.

“I don’t care how fuckin cute she looks. Just fuck her. Fuck her then date her. Date her and then fuck her. I don’t care just do something. If you won’t I will,” Duff threw the pillow back at Slash nailing him in the face.

“Chill out Duff, I’m only fucking with you. Just be more blunt with her about your intentions,,” Slash laugh before rolling back and went back to sleep.

Delilah stood in the kitchen searching through the cabinets hoping to find something to make for breakfast for the guys.

“Looking for something?” Delilah almost jumped as someone wrapped their arms around her waist.

“Food,” Delilah’s words were no louder than a whisper.

“What are you making?” Duff quickly opened the fridge to look through the food that Mags and the other girls had bought for them.

“I don’t know, maybe breakfast bowls?”

“Delly, what’s that?” Delilah’s heart skipped a beat when she heard him call her Delly.

“Well Duffles,” she paused and looked at the sly grin that was plastered on his face. She smiled to herself as she noticed that he might actually like her nickname for him. Little did she know that Duff would let her call him anything.

“A breakfast bowl is a bunch of random meat, potatoes, eggs, and vegetables. My brother and I would make it all the time back home. It looks like you don’t have any eggs, so random meat and potatoes it is,” Delilah shrugged as she found a bag of potatoes in a random cabinet.

She looked cute with her hair an absolute mess. Duff gently tucked a long strand of hair behind her petite ear. They locked eyes for a moment and both of them froze.

Delilah was panicking. She was internally screaming. Should she say something? Should she mess with his hair? Should she go and cook?

“Hey Del, are you making us food?” Axl’s words caused Delilah to take a step away from Duff and turn towards Axl. It was like the spell that had been casted over her and Duff had been lifted.

“Breakfast bowls,” Delilah smiled when she received a smile from him.

“Duff, are these potatoes good? Or have they gone bad?” Delilah rambled as she handed one of the potatoes to Duff. He immediately sniffed it and shrugged.

“Seem fine to me,” he shrugged back to Delilah.

“What do you ever know about potatoes?” The words sounded sour as they left Axl’s mouth. He clearly wasn’t a morning person.

“They don’t give the last name McKagan to the French,” Duff cockily replied.

———-

Delilah stood in Mag’s bathroom staring at her reflection. If only her parents could see her now, a smirk unknowingly formed on her lips.

“You should wear this,” Mags handed Delilah a ‘skirt’ as Mags called it.

“Mags this ‘skirt’ is barely longer than the one I wore when we first met,” Delilah protested as she held the fabric in her hands.

“This skirt, unlike the fabric you wore that night we met, is form fitting and won’t flash every living soul,” Mags quickly rebuttaled as she walked into the bathroom.

“Why can’t I wear pants?” Delilah wined leaning back on the toilet.

“Because it’s going to be 104 degrees Fahrenheit out tonight. I dont want you to pass out or melt from the heat!”

“Don’t underestimate me, I once wore a floor length dress with long sleeves in 90 plus degree weather,” Delilah teased back earning a laugh from Mags.

“Oh Honey,” Mags shouted emphasizing the O in honey.

“Unless your dress was made of leather, it’s not comparable. Your dress let your skin breathe. You will BOIL if you wear those pants. I love you Del but COME ON,” Mags replied as she comically waved her arms in the air for added dramatic effect.

“Plus girl you got legs that are to die for. Why not show them off?” Mags added earning a smile from Delilah.

“Fine!” Delilah agreed and put on the skirt. Even though this skirt was only a little longer than her old one, she almost felt comfortable in it.

“So who is Motley Crue?”

“They are the band the boys are opening for tonight. They are all borderline insane and from some of the shit I see them pull, I don’t know how they are still alive,” Mag’s laughter filled the bathroom where the two of them were getting ready.

“Oh,” was all Delilah could reply.

“This one guy Nikki, I have seen him light himself on fire both on stage and at parties. Im also pretty sure their guitarist is a vampire or alien or something. Their singer is hot though, but he knows it. I honestly don’t remember the last time I saw him without a girl literaly swooning over him. Their drummer is a sweetheart at times though, BUT those are the ones you gotta watch out for. They are a little much for me, so I usually stay away from them,” Mags focuses on the mirror as she spoke trying to fix her makeup. She wanted to look perfect for Derek tonight. Also known as the guy who she has been spending every other night with. She was excited to introduce him to Delilah and Stevie.

“A little much?”

“They make great music, but they are comple sleze bags too. The Nikki guy who lights himself on fire, he is the worst,” Mags added leaving the bathroom leaving Delilah alone.

“Hey it’s my favorite girls!” Delilah smiled as Stevie hugged the two of them as they entered the back stage area.

“Wow this place is nice,” Mags commented on the clean doors and mirrors. On top of everything there were even multiple rooms backstage.

The girls quickly followed Stevie who was in no way sober to a door that had a piece of torn paper with Guns N’ Roses written on it in sloppy handwriting.

“Look what the trash dragged it!” Stevie yelled as he walked into the small room.

“Cat not trash Stevie. Nice try though. It might help next time if you were a little less drunk,” Mags teased.

Everyone was sitting around drinking, well everyone except Axl and Izzy.

“Hey Delly!” Delilah smiled at Duff who motioned for her to come sit next to him. She walked over towards him without hesitation and plopped down next to him. To say she had been waiting all afternoon to see him was an understatement. She even wrote a couple of puns to hopefully get a laugh out of Duff.

Mag quickly shot her brother a raised eyebrow as she watched Delilah or ‘Delly’ sit next to Duff who immediately shrugged and sat down next to Slash. He loved his sister dearly, but he wasn’t gonna cock block his band mate for the rest of his life. He tried, but some things will always find a way. Atleast it was Duff and not Axl.

“So are you girls coming to the party tonight,” Slash asked only shortly realizing what was going on. He was too preoccupied with his guitar earlier.

“Party?” Delilah asked as Duff pulled Delilah onto his lap earning a glare from Mags.

“Yeah with Crue. They always have these big parties at their place after they play. Are you coming?” Duff asked as he mindlessly played with her hair.

“Mags you going?” Delilah asked across the room.

Mags wanted nothing more than to say no, and forbid Delilah from going. She sighed. She wasn’t Delilah’s Mom and it wasn’t her place. The least she could do was look after the girl.

“Hell yeah” Stevie turned towards his sister, and this time it was his turn to send a confused look her way. Mags hated the boys of Motley Crue more than she hated Axl. Why did she agree to go?

Little did he know that Mags wanted to yell no. She wanted to ‘forbid’ Delilah from going because she knew what happened at those parties, but she couldn’t. If she said no it would bring both unwanted drama and stores she would have to share which she was in no mood to share, so she agreed to go. At least this way she could also keep an eye on Delilah.

—————

“You were amazing!” Delilah cheered as Duff and the rest of the guys walked in from the stage.

“Not tooo shabby!” Mags gave her brother a hug after a performance well done not giving a care in the world about him being drenched in sweat. She was proud. It was about time that all of his hard work was paying off.

Stevie and Mags led their small group back to their room backstage or as Delilah earlier called it the kingdom of booze.

Before Delilah could walk away and meet up with Mags at the front of the line she felt Duff’s fingers intertwine with hers. She froze and shot a confused looked towards him.

“Come Delly, walk with me,” he whispered into her ear before placing his cowboy hat onto her head. She looked even cuter with the giant smile that formed on her face. She was beautiful.

She obliged. Her heart felt like it was going to explode. She assumed only drunk Duff saw her as attractive, and sober Duff only saw her as a friend, nothing more.

“Did ya like the show?”

“Yeah, I just told you I did Duffy,” she giggled back.

“Well I like you saying that you liked the show,” his smile was setting her heart on fire. Butterflies were causing chaos in her stomach as she tried to form some sort of reply.

“Hey, did you hear about the new restaurant on the strip? It’s called Karama and they don’t have a menu!” Delilah asked Duff mentally preparing herself to make sure she didn’t mess up the joke.

“How do you know what to order?” Duff asked curious into where she was going with this.

“There’s no menu because you get what you deserve,” the two of them laughed like idiots.

Izzy and Duff groaned as they heard Delilah’s pun. “Ohh God it’s a match made in hell,” Izzy muttered under his breath so only slash could hear.

“What’s that?” Mags asked as she pointed to Duff and Delilah holding hands.

“My bassist and your friend,” Stevie causally replied as he poured himself a drink waiting for her to freak out.

“Were you...I don’t know...supposed to cock block him and your entire band?” Mags sarcastically asked stealing her brother’s drink. Was she happy? No. Not even in the slightest.

She then watched as Duff and Delilah walked in giggling about what Mags could only assume to be one of his stupid puns. That’s when her heart melted a little. Only a couple of hours ago was Delilah on the verge of tears about leaving her family and her old life behind.

Stevie smiled as he noticed Mags relax when Duff and Delilah walked into the room laughing and giggling without a care in the world. How was he supposed to keep those two apart? Hell he would bet that they would lighten a dark room.

“Well I did at first, but this isn’t what happened last time. From what I heard they’re taking it slow. Duff might do stupid things, but I trust him to watch over her. He’s a good guy. Plus how am I supposed to keep those two apart,” Stevie pointed over towards Delilah who currently had a strand of Duff’s hair places above her upper lip like a mustache. They were acting like a pair of idiots.

Mags remained silent as she watched the two of them giggle. Delilah needed this. Mags knew Delilah needed someone to distract her and cheer her up, but she just wished it could have been her instead of Duff.

“Hey Mags,” Delilah shouted across the room noticing her friends saddened mood. Delilah went to return Duff’s hat, bur he quickly gave it back to her whispering into her ear, “Delly this looks way better on you,” followed by a quick kiss on her cheek. He could feel Mags stares across the room.

“Wanna go and listen to the show?” Delilah added as she finished her drink and walked over towards Mags who quickly followed her. Delilah was hoping that watching Motley Crue would raise Mag’s spirit. She hated seeing Mags down.

The two girls walked towards the stage. The original plan was to watch the show from the audience, but Mags quickly changed her mind when she noticed how packed the bar was. She always admired Crue fans, but they were ‘alot’ and Mags didn’t want Delilah to feel uncomfortable. She heard that a could girls were taking their bras off and throwing them at Vince during the show. They found a spot backstage where they could clealy hear the music while keeping out of the groupie’s way.

About half way through the set, Mags finally got the courage to ask Delilah the question that had been burning at her, “so you and Duff?”

“I have no idea. He so sweet and kind and funny, but I don’t know if he likes me back. What if he is just being nice?”

Mags laughed at Delilah’s cluelessness. “Del, first off he calls you Delly. He is making lists of real bad puns and jokes for you to laugh at. Don’t get me started on the way he looks at you,” Delilah blushed at Mag’s words even though they came out more of frustrated than sweet.

Mags froze for a second and wondered if Duff was Delilah’s first crush. She never heard Delilah once mention any guys outside her ex fiancé.

“So you’re not a fan of Duff,” Delilah raised her eyebrow.

“Ugh, how do I explain it,” Mags grunted and leaned back against the wall.

“He is going to be a rockstar. I’ve been on this strip long enough to know what happens here,” Mags watched as all of the excitement that once filled Delilah evaporate. Mags was mentally scolding herself. Why did her mouth deceive her like that?

“I just thought,” Mags watched as Delilah pull her knees into her chest.

“Well how about we make a deal,” Mags paused waiting for Delilah to look up.

“A deal?”

“You can date Duff, but if he hurts you I will beat the living hell out of him,” Delilah nodded and laughed as Mags hugged her.

“Come on let’s get back to the guys, cow girl. There is a huge after party that you are not going to want to be sober for,” their laughter filled the hallway as the walked back towards the room.

[xsilentthoughtsxlouddreamsx]

you know whats crazy?

I hated learning Spanish in high school. Like, I dreaded going to class and doing worksheets and what not. It wasn’t that class wasn’t interactive enough or that the work they gave us was trash. I think it was that fact that it was a grade and that if you couldn’t string together a specific sentence with learned words and correct conjugation you fail, and you got to take the class all over again to graduate. When i went to college it was a requirement for my major. I had to take it or switch majors. College energy is extremely different from high school energy. My Spanish teacher was kind as hell and really taught with passion. Usually i was the last one to finish my written tests and even when time was up, she waited for me. Im talking like 20 minutes past lol. It was a late class so campus is shutting down, people are going home and she got test to grade and things to do and yet she still waited. College Spanish class was more fun that high school but even then, deep down i still hated learning it. After graduation idk something happened. i got interested in Spanish again; even started learning dutch lmbo. The thought of knowing another language always seemed cool to me. But i think because it was for a grade, my life was on the line. When you’re young its almost like your grades are a measurement of your worth (absolutely not true of course) i began to feel that in 11th grade through my entire time in college. fast-forward 3 yrs later i suddenly have an interest in learning languages and actively seeking creative ways to learn it. like this blog for instance. I would have never made this a few years ago. Iv been on tumblr since 2009 and never once thought to make a blog on my target language(s). Don’t’ get me wrong, language learning is still frustrating at times but i feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I can take my time and breath. I can learn because i want to not have to. Instead of a class room there is a community and we’re all at different levels and learning at different speeds and still helping each other along the way. Im not sure if my interest in language learning started in college or if i was interested all along but just didn't notice it? Honestly im having a blast with French. Its difficult lol but im enjoying it. I always think of the day when i can comfortably speak it with native and non-native people. French is just one of many languages i want to learn. I got a list lmbo and im excited to see what ill know how to speak in a few years. Im cheering for the future me.