#and like he seems like the sentimental type- and maybe his folks are too

[5eraphim]

out of the merc's parents shown in cannon, who do we think would be most likely to hold onto old baby clothes "just in case" the might get passed down to their child's child?

(i really wanna put engie's parents here bc i just got the sense they would, but unfortunately- not shown in canon so :/)

[bestworstcase]

So I know that "GoL=final boss" is a predominant theory around this corner of the fandom. But admittedly I'm having a bit of trouble wrapping my head around them actually fighting one of the Brothers, especially considering that the last time they tried to fight the Brothers head on, GoD wiped the entire army (and the rest of humanity) in a single blast. And assuming Salem's main goal from the onset is to kill the God of Light, how is she (and RWBY for that matter) meant to go about it?

oh, good, this is something i've been meaning to talk about

because as the fandom has begun to, um, notice that the god of light is not actually the benevolent adjudicator he pretends to be, the idea that the god of light (or the brothers) might be the "final boss" is circulating around more and i keep seeing this sort of objection raised by specifically the handful of other serious analytical types:

"maybe, but the story is built on the conflict between ozma and salem, and the gods are not very interesting, and they're too powerful to fight, so probably not."

and i find this rather baffling because all of this seems very obvious to me, but on the other hand, the sentiment is self-explanatory in a way. i have never seen somebody who thinks this express the idea without including some variant of "i find the brothers a little boring" and what this tells me is that they only consider the gods in relation to salem and ozma's backstory, thinking about them as little more than plot devices used to set up salem and ozma as the main villain and her adversary.

but i don't think that's what the gods are in this story—otherwise there would have been no need for the kids to learn about where the brothers came from before they made remnant. the brothers matter because the conflict between salem and ozma is religious in nature. the plot of rwby is a religious war.

maybe this only seems obvious to me because i think religion in fantasy is interesting in general and i read a lot of epics and folk stories. i don't know. the important thing is that the brothers are gods.

not "all-powerful characters who serve as occasional plot devices but are otherwise distant from the narrative," which is what most people in fandom tend to mean when they say "god." the brothers are gods, beings regarded as divine and worshipped by some of the characters.

divinity is a social construct.

i find the brothers to be interesting characters in their own right, but as gods their function in the narrative, along with the god of animals (who isn't real!) and the blacksmith, is to embody the religious beliefs and ideological stances that define the conflict between salem and ozma. as gods, these characters are expressions of what the important characters believe in.

this is the idea the god of light represents: "humans are pitiable shells of what they once were and need the brothers to make them whole again, but first they need to repent and cleanse themselves of what salem did. if they don't, they deserve annihilation."

this is the idea the god of darkness represents: "creations should not be condemned for the mistakes of their creators, and the god of light's rules benefit no one but himself."

this is the idea the god of animals represents: "humans are remarkable, but it's important to keep an open mind, accept change, embrace diversity, and be true to yourself; otherwise, you will become small-minded, afraid, and hateful, and that will make you cruel."

and this is the idea the blacksmith represents: "balance is not two forces locked in never-ending conflict, but a living breathing thing that grows and changes organically. it can't be created, or restored by force or calculation; it can only be found."

one of these is not like the others.

ozma is dedicated to his mandate, given to him by the god of light, and because the huntsmen academies are a religious institution whose guiding purpose is to safeguard the divine relics until such time as humanity is "united," the main cast of huntresses and huntsmen and their allies are all ultimately serving the god of light.

in the ever after, RWBYJ meet the blacksmith, who tells them a story about the brothers and shares her philosophical beliefs with them. they discover a new perspective.

salem rejected ozma's mandate at once, by quoting a myth about the god of animals ("descendants [of those humans who rejected the change and freedom offered to them by the god of animals] resent [faunus] because we remind them of what they are not and what they never can be" / "why redeem these humans [on behalf of the brothers] when we can replace them [the brothers] with what they could never be?")—after quite literally millions of years believing that humanity can, and should, overthrow the divine order.

so the central narrative conflict is between salem and ozma, but what that conflict is about is whether the god of light's view of humankind is correct. ozma either believes that it is or believes that resisting him is futile; salem believes that the god of light is both wrong and possible to defeat, or at least ignore.

(i think there is a not-insignificant possibility that her Plan A is to destroy the relics, making it impossible to ever invite the brothers back to remnant, but that the presence of the spirits inside the relics will prohibit that. "none of that matters anymore!" and all.)

and, in the most recent volume, we learned that the god of light is a very broken character who has lost his way and desperately needs to heal. the god of darkness probably does not exist anymore (i am almost certain he returned to the tree and ascended), so light has no one to guide him back home. he is also not immortal, just ageless.

here is what the narrative is setting up:

salem is going to win—and her victory is also the god of light's defeat, because she wins by persuading ozma, and everyone else, to join her in rejecting the genocidal ideology underpinning the divine mandate and thus refusing the mandate itself. the only way to win is not to play. she herself will have to change first, by relinquishing her many layers of emotional armor and allowing herself to be vulnerable and honest again, and her opponents will also have to change how they see her, as a real person instead of a fairytale monster. this is the core narrative arc.

then, they will need to make a decision regarding the god of light. the relics can be scattered or destroyed to prevent the day of judgment from ever coming to pass, or they can try to send the god of light back home to the tree. the former is safer, perhaps, but… rwby is a story about trying to save everyone. "sometimes it's worth it all to risk it all and fight for every life." right? confronting the god of light will not even be an option until everyone is on the same page about refusing the mandate, and by that point the conflict is over. they could simply get rid of the relics and carry on with their lives and never think about the god of light again. the only reason to summon him is for his sake.

will any of them want to help him? no.

is it the right thing to do? yes.

i think dealing with him will turn out to be very simple, because the god of darkness is gone and the god of light said that both he and his brother would return to judge humanity. by his own word, he does not have the right to judge humanity alone—and while he may bend his rules, he will not break them. if he returns to find humans and faunus united in opposition to him with salem, he returns to a world that does not belong to him or have any need of him and falls into a trap of his own making.

this will be enough to give him pause. they can try to talk him down, but given that he embodies the fear of change i think they will fail and he will lash out—not with magic, though. what did light do to jabber and to salem to punish them? he lunged and bit or slashed them with his claws.

beware the jabberwock, my son! the jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

<- in the poem 'jabberwocky,' the boy searches for the jabberwock a "long time," then stops to rest under the tumtum tree. there, the jabberwock finds him—and he rather unceremoniously cuts off its head:

one, two! one, two! and through and through the vorpal blade went snicker-snack he left it dead, and with its head he went galumphing back.

(incidently, the jabberwalker is not the jabberwock—he's jabberwocky, the poem, and also a bandersnatch.)

anyway, i think light is going to lose his temper and lunge at salem, and someone (probably ruby) will chop off his head with the sword of destruction when he does. then a smaller, more vulnerable part of him will be exposed (think the curious cat after team rwby slay the "furious" form) and they will talk to him again and send him home.

the fights against cordovin in V6 and the cat in V9 directly foreshadow the shape of this confrontation with the god of light. there is no victory in strength: they won't overpower him, he will resort to violence and that will be his undoing. (remember how ruby cut off tyrian's tail after tyrian reached past her to sting her uncle? yeah.) and then, with his power broken, he'll have a choice to change or not change.

[scandalouslamb]

i'm not those other anons but i'm so curious about dr. gaul and maximinius and their dynamic. "He will live for a time, and he will die" is iconic, and i love the fact that max sees snow's willingness to kill gaul as a sign of, like, courage that he could never find in himself, or at least the type of mind/character that's necessary for the job (of president of panem)

i love how you write tigris, too, especially because i had a similar hc about tigris (and other capitol folks who became part of an ambiguous rebellious subculture) using body modifications to look more like an animal in response to all that rhetoric about human nature being inherently selfish/animalistic! it's also always interesting to me that snow modified himself to look the same (i.e. presumably very similar to his younger self) while tigris modified herself to look so different from her former self

There's definitely some begrudging respect and maybe bitterness coming from my good friend Max that Snow was able to kill Gaul. I think there's also this kind of resigned, "she already made us what we are. what does it matter, now?" thinking from him as well.

I don't think that I've ever mentioned this anywhere, but in my mind, I think that Snow and Pres. Ravinstill both end up clinging to Gaul's ideology as almost a replacement for religion or spirituality. I just think this interpretation of them appeals to me given that I read somewhere that Panem's supposed to be fairly secular which is backed up by Snow's thoughts in the book which seem to look down on spirituality as backwards or something in the past (Ch. 15 and Ch. 20), but he (and Pres. Ravinstill) aren't above such beliefs. they dress it up as something different "a philosophical truth" or "a scientific fact." In my mind, part of Snow being able to kill her and Pres. Ravinstill failing to is maybe in part due to Maximinius not quite fully accepting that worldview and still needing her as a physical and constant reminder of it (and also all that sentimental attachment and history they share too of course)

I'm glad you enjoyed my brief bit writing Tigris! And you're so right about Snow attempting to maintain his past appearance while Tigris tries to look different is so interesting!

There's also something about Snow in later years appearing much less flamboyant than the rest of the Capitol. It's such an interesting way for him to stand out from the rest in appearance (at least in the movie. If I remember correctly, the older descriptions of Snow don't state much about his clothes either. There's just a strong emphasis on the rose smell).

Thanks for the ask!

[donotscratchyoureyes]

Vendilo, Gino

As you might be aware, I coined the phrase #parlacigino (talk to us Gino) back in March after the diabolical QPR match. It felt like a natural line in the sand after two seasons of what can only be described as attritional football played by uninterested players, too many head coach sackings, crass stadium measures, a tone deaf comms policy and, lest we forget, a badly executed and poorly communicated ‘fans forum’.

This lead to some fans feeling disconnected from their club and an air of frustration gave way to low level demonstration.

This was met by the club enforcing measures so draconian that it took everyone by surprise. A towel that had ‘Pozzo Out’ written on it saw it’s owner being ejected from the ground, spoken to by the police and then banned from buying any further tickets until he ‘came in for a chat’.

Another banner with the same message was met with the phrase ‘there’s no free speech in this stadium’ as the owner was frog-marched out.

Stewarding levels were ramped up in both number and snarly attitude and the PA volume was increased to 11 to drown out the very small pockets of ‘get out of our club’ vocal dissent.

The original family club, everyone.

This ‘Pozzo Out’ sentiment, I felt, was premature. We’ve enjoyed 5 consecutive seasons and some famous victories in the premier league under Gino’s tenure. We do have, at last, a fully completed stadium which had previously looked like a building site with a condemned stand. So what had changed for some fans to want the owner out?

It seemed clear we needed to see the whites of his eyes, hence one small hashtag posted on the ‘Do Not Scratch Your Eyes’ twitter by myself. Obviously I was expecting for it to be lost in the sea of ‘Pozzo Out’ sentiment that was permeating, but it got a small amount of traction and within a week we were gathering like-minded folk together to work out how to get Gino and supporters in the same room after the club cannily chucked it over to the fans to organise after their disastrous cock-up the previous season.

I’ll not go into the machinations of how the event in June finally happened as this has been discussed to death elsewhere and I don’t think my mental health could take it, but happen it did. Gino met the supporters.

And again, I’ll not go into details of what was said at the meeting, you can find the live blogs and the full transcript elsewhere. However at the end of the meeting it did feel like some air was cleared and that there was an understanding of what Pozzo was trying to achieve. We finally had a clue about his personality and crucially his philosophy after 11 years of his club ownership.

Four months later we have had a terrible (in my view) transfer window in terms of players coming in and we are watching what is now, worryingly, looking like relegation form football. Yes, we are sitting a few places off League One as this is being typed.

‘Oh’ say some supporters ‘but what about the January window? Maybe he’ll bring in the right players then!’ I doubt that. It hasn’t happened for the past, what, five windows has it? And now the person responsible for bringing in the talent has been sacked. Goodbye Ben Manga.

Enough now. Enough. The slippery slope we have found ourselves on since the 2019 FA Cup final shows no sign of abating; in fact it looks like it’s taking steeper turns.

Pozzo heard the hopes, expectations and concerns of Watford fans at that meeting in June and should have left feeling buoyant but also humbled having been handed a second chance whilst having to tiptoe on the thinnest of ice.

That ice is showing signs of cracking now. Previously staunch supporters of Pozzo are turning against him and if things on the pitch don’t improve dramatically (and the fan reaction to that isn’t handled in a more measured way by the club this time around) it could be that he is inching towards demonstrations that could well be more vociferous this time around, too.

So here’s a new hashtag: #VendiloGino (‘Sell Gino’). Sell whilst your legacy is relatively untarnished. Sell whilst the supporters might still think of you as the second greatest owner after Elton John. Sell before it’s too late and further damage is done. Sell before your bloody-mindedness sees our club drop down to the third tier of English football.

Sell to someone with a spark of enthusiasm. Someone willing to throw more than £50k on Tom Ince after reaping tens of millions in transfer fees. Someone who will hire the right recruitment team and not rely on peculiar looking deals with less than reputable looking agents.

We were here before you arrived. We’ll be here after you go. Don’t worry about us. We’ve seen all this before. But nothing changes until it changes at the top. It’s time for that change.

#VendiloGino

[insane-control-room]

Spiderling

Chapter 1/3: Prize

next - last

Shawn and Bertrum enjoy a day in the nearly complete BendyLand.

warnings: none

ao3 link here

The sky was warm and the breeze was tepid, laughter gently flowing through the whole of the enclosure as the group play tested the park. Joey had also opened it early to children with disabilities, hoping that their feedback would provide for a more inclusive and enjoyable environment. Bertrum, for one, was extraordinarily pleased with how it was turning out, and strolling about with Shawn on his arm was a fun and relaxing bout. The two of them had gone on some of the more intense rides and had found themselves tired out by the thrills, neither being as young as they used to be. So now the two of them were having a grand old time doing nothing but milling about together and enjoying each other’s company, as well as the sight of children delighting in the fruits of their labor. 

“Your toys and clothes designs are rather popular, Mr. Flynn,” Bertrum commented with a nonchalant aura yet a bright light in his eye. A few kids wearing tutu bracelets ran past them, shrieking with laughter and urging each other to the next ride. “I think I would like one of those bracelets myself.”

“Ach, this whole thing wouldn’t be a fun excursion had it not been for t’e amusement part of the park,” Shawn snorted with a roll of his eyes. “Even Grant wouldn’t approve a chunk o’ land jus’ for trying to sell merchandise, even if ol’ Archie was pushin’ for it.”

“Joey would never let it through,” Bertrum reminded him laughingly. “He’d be appalled. Can’t you almost hear him, ‘Nathan, we’re entertainers, not business people’!”

“Nail on the head,” Shawn laughed along. “Perfect impression of the man.”

“He’s a good man,” Bertrum mused. Shawn agreed, “Aye, we propped him up alright.” 

The pair continued to walk through the park in quiet, the type that is shared between two people who have yet to exhaust all paths of conversation, yet know they have all the time in the world to do so. They shared a cup of tea between them (Henry was surprised to see how well that concession stand was doing, and conceded to Joey and Bertrum that it had been a fine idea) as they came to the area where more games were concentrated together. Shawn and Bertrum were equally proud of this space, being that they both contributed in equal measure. 

“Win me a prize, won’t ye?” Shawn batted his eyes, knowing that his greens were quite the charmers, though when you put two charismatic folks in one relationship, bantering would be more likely than the desired instant acquiescence. “I’m sure you know exactly how they all are rigged.”

“None of them are rigged,” Bertrum huffed, though tilted their trajectory towards one of the skill based games to do precisely what Shawn had asked of him. “I’ll win you something, maybe not easily, but all the games are fair.”

“Oh, are they?” Shawn pretended to be skeptical, teasing the slightly older man. “Well, then, can I pick the game? To prove that it’s not rigged.” 

“Sure, go right on ahead,” Bertrum smiled, waving a hand in a vague gesture to the whole lane. “Take your pick, Shawn.”

“Alright, Bertie,” Shawn beamed, earning a quiet curse from him. “How about… that one right there.”

“Works well enough for me,” Bertrum nodded, the pair of them stepping up. The girl behind the counter seemed amused that the park maker himself was coming to play one of his own games, to win for the toymaker one of his own prizes. Though she kept that sentiment well to herself. “One round if you please, dear.” 

“Right away, sir,” she said, trying not to smile too broadly. She passed him the rings, and Bertrum glanced at them versus the trajectory he would need. Shawn and the gamemaster both watched with surprise as Bertrum managed to land every single ring onto the points, ranging from the easy Alice loops to the difficult Bendy spokes. “Woah! Congrats! Everyone could get on about two or three, but you cleared out with all nine, and with a ring left!”

“It’s all a matter of physics,” Bertrum shrugged. “And practice, of course.”

“Oh, shut up you pretentious bastard,” Shawn huffed, but he was smiling. His smile was covered by the Edgar plush hitting him square in the face, the legs splatting around him before falling from his surprised head. Shawn caught it to his chest on instinct. “Aw! You won me such a cutie.”

“Complimenting your own work,” Betrum mock sighed and shook his head, the two of them strolling off once more. He wrapped an arm around his partner happily. “Disgraceful.”

“It’s called a healthy self esteem,” Shawn quipped back easily. Bertrum thought about it for a moment before awarding Shawn the point. “And Edgar is very cute in general.”

“He is,” Betrum accorded, but smirked and gave Shawn a light squeeze in his one armed hug. “But I think that you’re the most handsome bugger.” 

“Ugh, god, Henry and Joey infected you with their terrible sense of humor,” Shawn wrinkled his nose. “That pun was also just bad.”

“You liked it!” Bertrum goaded, Shawn shoving him gently. “Admit it! It was a brilliant pun!” 

“It was terrible. One of the worst I ever heard in my life,” Shawn deadpanned. Bertrum looked at him with pure (though it was completely joking) offense and mild horror. “Even worse than the one Sammy made.”

“Oh, wow, that’s a low blow,” Bertrum commented, surprised by the comparison, but not as falsely affronted any more. “Are you serious?” 

“Nah,” Shawn replied, leaning to kiss Bertrum’s cheek. The man turned pink at the gesture. “You’re simply very fun to tease.” 

“Oh, haha,” Betrum said plainly, rolling his eyes, and hoping that he would stop blushing so badly sooner rather than later. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love me,” Shawn baited, sing-song. Bertrum shook his head. “Yes you do!”

“Maybe I do,” Bertrum smiled, then kissed Shawn properly. “Yes, I do.”

[ashisstrange]

MASTERLIST

ʷᵒʳᵈˢ: ².²ᵏ

ᵖᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜʰⁱˡᵈᵉ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗᵃᵍˢ: ʰᵘʳᵗ/ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ, ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ, ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ⁱⁿˢᵉʳᵗ, ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᵃˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

Its late in the night, far too late for your liking. The moon is glistening in the sky with it's stars, providing a small sheen of light in your dark room, passing through the curtains. It's not unusual for Tartaglia to get home late considering his occupation, but you never got used to the worry pooling in ur gut each hour that passes without him by your side.

What if he's gotten incredibly hurt and you're not there to help? What if one day he doesn't return home? Nontheless you always prepare extra dinner and make the bed, even on nights he doesn't return. You never had the idea of coming home to loving arms and warm dinner as a kid, so it felt as if it's your duty to make sure Tartaglia never suffers that feeling.

The feeling of a stab in the chest as you enter the dark house, eerily silent. You'd always pad your way to the kitchen silently and snag a sandwich before going to bed in your room. Your living situation had never been inherently bad, but the people you lived with, the people any other person would've called their parents, seemed to make everything unbearable.

That is why when you turned 18 you moved out to Liyue harbor, and your close friend Zhongli was there every step of the way. You had run into him once during a trip at the age of 16, and you had kept contact through letters ever since.

The man, at the time, told you he was 23, but he never really seemed to age. You brushed it off, probably overthinking it. That is the same person that introduced you to Childe, it was quite a sudden occurence, but you'll be forever grateful.

You needed a place to stay and your friend told you that his friend wouldnt mind a roommate, and that he was rarely found home anyways. You took up the offer, not knowing that your roommate would be one of the fatui harbingers.

You were off to a rocky start, the man refusing to talk to you the very few times he was at the appartment. Later though, he seemed to warm up to you, ever so slowly.

You don't remember how your relationship ever came to be, it's not like you've ever explicitly put a label to it. There was just a moment where you felt as if everything changed. What you had wasn't just merely a romantic relationship, it was more than that. To provide each other comfort and love like no one else had ever done before. Unconditional love that didnt seem to falter, even during the moments where you parted ways.

You smile to yourself, remeniscing the days you barely talked, and the days you spent helping him when he was wounded. There was one particular night he just crashed into your bed in the middle of the night, even though he usually only used the couch.

He had clung to you as if you were his only lifeline, sleeping soundlessly as you laid in shock. The shock died down after a few seconds though, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Not long after you fell asleep too, and since that night Tartaglia had never slept on the couch ever again.

You check th clock. 4:37 Am, way too late to be up, but it's not like you'd sleep regardless. You'd probably get an ear full from Zhongli during your scheduled lunch the next day, but that, folks, is something for future you to deal with.

Suddenly you heard the turning of keys in a lock, and a door opening and slamming shut. That can only be one person. Then you heard a crash coming from the living room, making you shoot up. You slipped on your slippers as you quickly shuffled your way across the room and out into the living room.

You flicked on the light and were met by Tartaglia, slumped against the back of the couch. His bow was discarded to the side and he was breathing heavily. Sluggishly, his eyes opened to meet yours, his gaze seemed distant, almost empty.

You snapped out of your trance, rushing to pull his arm over your shoulder. You managed to drag him across the living room, over to the bathroom, settling him down on the closed lid of the toilet. You held up your hands, as if to say 'wait here'. You didn't dare break the silence that hung over you, scared that you'd set him off or something.

He didn't seem to protest, so you left to go get the med kit from the kitchen, and a clean rag to clean off the blood splattered across his skin. Was it his? That was a question that, regardless if you could guess the answer, would be left unanswered. As always.

He met your eyes when you returned, seeking for some contact. He knew how much you hated blood. The stickyness, the sickening smell and the thought of what must have happened that involved getting covered in blood. You always helped him regardless, and he thanked you dearly for that. After a long day he simply could not do it himself.

It makes him feel helpless, but you're always right by his side to make him feel better. You wet the rag, cleaning off his calloused hands. His face too had some traces of blood, but those were easily wiped away as well.

After some emergency stitches and a bandage around his bicep you motioned for him to stand up, letting him know that the treatment was done. He was still quite weak, but not as much as before.

"Thanks," he croaked, the first words you shared in 2 days. His voice sounded devoid of any confidence. He seemed very fragile, but you didn't comment it.

"No worries," You send him a reassuring smile, helping him get up and over to the bedroom. You see him visibly relax once he's in bed, snuggling into the sheets. He immediately rolls over towards you when he feels the matress dip, wrapping his arms around your waist.

His face is buried in between your shoulder blades, and it's nearly impossible for you to turn over and look at him. He only does that when he's in a bad mood, and you stop putting in effort to try and face him.

"Bad day?" He hums, the vibrations thrumming against your back. He seems tense, but you're careful not to trigger him too much. The last thing you want is to stress him out even more, knowing he has a lot on his plate already.

After a while, when you've started nodding away assuming he fell asleep you suddenly feel movement behind you. You open your eyes as you hear a small sniffle. It's almost as if you could hear your hart shatter from beneath your ribs. He probably thought you were asleep too.

His arms had relaxed, allowing you to turn around easily. His ocean blue eyes met yours, big with surprise, even though they seemed almost grey-ish in the faint moonlight. All you could do is smile at him as you opened his arms, for him to rely on you.

And that's exactly what he did. qHe fell into your chest, sniffling and crying freely as you drew patterns on his back, your other hand running through his hair. You could almost feel his clogged nose by the way he was having trouble breathing. After a bit his sobbing eased down to mere sniffles as you handed him a handkerchief to blow out his nose.

He used to have a lot of trouble with that, relying on people. Upon meeting him he imediately sparked you as the type of person that didnt bother anyone with his personal feelings, bottling them up for only him to experience. You could see how it physically and mentally ate away at him

That's why one day you faced him, and opened your arms. He had quirked up a brow, confused at what you were insinuating. "Rely on me." You said, and he chuckled, assuming it was a joke.

When you didn't move he realised you weren't kidding. Eventually you wrapped your arms around him, the man tense in your grip. "You don't seem to want to bug anyone else with your problems, so you can rely on me instead,"

You had no idea ho much those words had meant to him, they stuck by him like gum under a shoe. It felt good, he admitted, to have someone to rely on.

"I'm so sorry," He croaks, and he sounds nearly as small as he did in the bathroom half an hour ago, his eyes red with tears. Seeing him like that made your chest clench in pain, knowing the pain the world has caused him.

"There's nothing for you to apologise for," he seems to be taken aback by your comment, maybe even... offended?

"N-no way, i'm clearly a burden to you and a waste of yo-" you shut him up by pressing a kiss to his lips, making his eyes widen.

"You have nothing to apologize for because i am here for you, willingly. I promised to help you with whatever you're going through didn't i," He nods in defeat, leaning back into you. The way he cuddles up to you almost seems domestic, forgetting the fact that he kills people for a living.

"You need to take a break sweetie, otherwise you'll just keep eating yourself up," You stroke a lock of hair out of his face that nearly seemed glued by the stickyness of his tears. He furrows his brows, creating deep creases in between them.

"You know i can't, there's way too much for me to do," He looks up at you, as if he's offended you brought it up in the first place. You press your thumb in between his brows, easing up the crease and stopping him from furrowing.

"We both know it isn't a crime to take a week off, considering you've never used your days off," He tries to butt in, but you shush him before he can start. "And before you start about 'your duties', there's enough harbingers at the fatui, it's not like they can't send Scaramouche to deal with your business for a bit,"

He frowns again, but you resume in stroking his hair. "Besides, if they don't allow you to take off, which i highly doubt, they'll have me to deal with," You smirk. His eyes crinkle up as he musters a small smile. You're not the most intimidating person on the planet, but it's the sentiment that matters.

"What would i even do in that week though," he huffs, fiddling with the back of your shirt as he seems deep in thought.

"Well i had just the idea," you chuckle as he looks at you in disbelief. His eyes are still a bleary red, but you can tell he's a lot less tense than earlier. "And that is..." He continues, his tone ever so curious.

"Say, how long has it been since you've been back home," he visibly tenses up, not meeting your eyes. You know its a sensetive topic, but it'd really do him good to go back home to see his family.

"I dont know, nearly two years," his voice is merely above a whisper, bless the fact that the room is so silent you'd be able to hear a pin drop. You adjust your position so that he's laying against you more comfortably, going back to stroking through his hair.

"Well i thought we could book it to shnezhynaiya for a week or two, spend some time with your family," He lays still against you, as if he'd break if he moved. "After all, they've only heard about me through letters," you chuckle.

You hold him a little tighter, leaning into the warmth. "Wouldn't you like that?" You say in his ear, just above a whisper. That seems to break him, the realisation dawning on him that he'd get to see his family again.  Tears run down his face once again, only this time they're not caused by distress. He nods as he buries his face back into your shoulder.

You stroke his back as you continue talking about your trip, soothing him. Later, when he's stopped crying, he talks along. He tells you about his parents, about how his mother used to be there for him through everything. About how he used to go ice fishing with his father in the winters, and proudly mention he caught a very big fish once.

He also tells you about his siblings, about how he cares for every single one of them very dearly. He also tells you about the spots he wants to visit with you he used to hang out at.

He tells you all about it, and for the first time in a while you see him smile. Really, genuinely smile. The kind of smile where his eyes crinkle up and he bares his teeth. It's an incredibly endearing sight, and u make a mental note to never forget it.

Suddenly he yawns. "You must be exhausted," you chuckle as you both adjust your positions, ready to fall asleep. He only hums as he keeps his eyes shut, pulling up his blanket. His breathing evens out as he falls asleep.

You smile as you look at his resting face, snuggling closer to him as you think; god, how did i get this lucky

[appledotcodotuk]

why the hive fckin suck at its job: a rant

spoilers for tgwdlm ahead!

first of all, it's important to consider what exactly the hive's job is. my answer is... who the fuck knows. literally. what is the hive's aim. what do you want Paul? more like, what do you want hive? let's find out!

it kinda evolves, as the play progresses. the intial aim of the hive, and one that does actually remain consistent is the constant burning need to grow and devour and gain more and more (insert capitalism metaphor here).

however, this is distorted by the people it possess who influence that aim, as we'll see later.

also the fact it crashes into a theatre displaying Mamma Mia gives the hive the motive it need to fit the world around it to the structure of the musical. having no originality of its own, the hive instead just picks up what is given to it. kinda like an evil baby.

it wants uniformity, that is indeed its ultimate goal and desire, no duh. it thinks it can achieve that through musical theatre, shame that the hive is dead wrong. cause the hive fucking sucks at its own job / aim / ultimate purpose / one concrete goal that motivates all its actions.

can't maintain control over its subjects

okay, so, the hive wants uniformity. it wants everyone to be dancing to the beat of its own tune. right? yeah. shame it literally can't keep its own possessed subjects in line at all. at the risk of sounding like the 10th doctor waxing lyrical abt humanity for the 50th time, humans are really difficult to control cause we're not really motivated by an altruistic allegiance to one primary good. we've got icky emotions that often move us to do stupid unpredictable stuff way more. it makes me wonder if the reason the hive wanted to use musical theatre to try and persuade ppl was cause it seems to think that is how theyll get emotive humans; through emotive songs. anyways. let's look at some examples shall weeeee?

Mr Davidson:

so, Mr Davidson. funnily enough, he's the guy whose in part acting as the hive trying to figure out what it wants through his interactions w/ Paul. every person it possess gives it just a bit more humanity and curiosity abt the world it is currently taking over. at least I think so. hence why as the musical develops u get character's like possessed!Alice wondering 'why does it hurt to love?' - the change in music and mood to something much more introspective really suggests to me that the hive is beginning to question the thoughts and emotions of its human hosts.

Mr Davidson is a family man through and through, he loves his wife Carol. she's his muse, his source of light. his feelings for her are not concrete or easy to explain and solve - hence why his sudden ahem demand of her is so hilarious and also jarring. it completely clashes with the 'I want song' which is simple, and often pushes forward a wider cause. not so with Mr Davidson, he just really loves his wife man. enough to break a frickin alien possession.

tbh I think its hilarious that (at least to me) the hive has to force him to forget and continue with the song, like, he straight up is just talking to his wife in that phone call, talking, not singing. so, no possession until he reverts back into song. ergo, the hive cannot maintain the uniformity it wants. even from the get go when theoretically its control should be stronger cause it has less ppl to co-ordinate. bad. at. its. job.

Paul:

this one hurts folks. yes, I know it's generally agreed, though somewhat debated that the state of Paul by the end of the tgwdlm is not purely possessed. I agree. once again, the hive is unable to truly enforce uniformity.

at this point, the motives of Paul and the hive are kinda just mixed, neither fully human nor fully alien. hence the constant shifts between pleeing for her to get away, to hide, to stay safe: 'what if the only choice is you have to sing to survive' and just full on old style hive nastiness 'let me puke in your mouth and just open your food bin girl' (so romantic 🥰 /j).

the hive has gone away from its original aim, and become something... different. no longer stuck to just one type of genre or style of song, it's really clever to show the developing complexity of the hive by showing how it is now juggling lots of different motifs with references to all the old songs from before recontextualised in a new way - its learning. evil baby... no longer uniform.

general miscommunication:

there are several instances of the hive not fully having uniform control over its subjects. for instance, right after not your seed with the three teens having to like... calibrate. they aren't just completely connected then?? also, this is a very small thing, but uhhhh at the end of inevitable when Paul is about to say the apotheosis is upon... the chorus interrupts him with USSSSSSS. interruptions??? not very in sync of u hive.

I think this inability to exert uniformity is also shown in the contrast between genre of musical theatre. my alien abomination cannot decide whether it wants to be the more modern edgy rock musical (join us (and die), not your seed ) or super happy go lucky old style musical theatre (lah dee dah dah day, and inevitable). it tries to do both, even while trying to encourage union, and sticking to one thing. hypocrite!!!!!

2. aims are guided by the people it possess

so, I mentioned this a bit already, but the hive isn't only mutating the humans, the humans are mutating the hive right back. this is more an interesting observation than any actual analysis but let's goooo.

greenpeace girl:

I think it's very likely that greenpeace girl is one of the first to be possessed. This is probably easily debunkable but whatever this analysis is flying by the seat or its pants anywayyyyy. why? cause where else would it pick up that whole 'this planet needs fixing' thing? it's interesting too, cause it morphs from expressing the desire to join hands and sing together, unity and peace with no actual action behind it. this then goes right to the other end, with the hive going 'fine I'll do it myself' and trying to save things by enforcing a dictatorship on the world. it develops and changes, and strays from its original means of accomplishing its aims! speaking oooooof...

3. inconsistent in means of accomplishing aims

okay, ur an evil hive mind. u think musicals are the way to win over these silly humans cause they're all weak and emotive and seem to respond to them. but, wait! schwoopsie! you haven't realised that for emotional depth and growth to mean anything, you need there to be established development and well... growth. otherwise the sentiments are as vague as the ones expressed in What Do You Want, Paul?

this show has genuine emotional moments, just not really during the musical numbers WITH EXCEPTIONS. any strife is smoothed over quickly, and so the development and change that would have to go into such growth is just gone. (see, You Tied Up My Heart) all so it can achieve its own desire to grow and grow and grow, maybe a metaphor for art being killed under late stage capitalism??

what actually matters is the impact the songs have afterwards, in causing a death - because we have a bond and care abt these characters. those short scenes between Paul and Emma are actually way more resonant than any song. except... inevitable, and also not your seed a bit. at this point the hive has learnt a thing or two, and can actually twist human emotion a little. but for it to do that, it has to reject the uniformity it prizes, and be adaptable. point towards being more human than it first thought? methinks so. and yet it's just not enough...

it's also why let it out, to me, feels really ingenuine. Paul has expressed himself in much better ways already. what they're doing is clearly paining him, and hurting the guy. he's terrified bless.

you can't force someone into being emotional vulnerable, man.

it's why all the deaths for the characters who are forced to express themselves are really violent, involving them being ripped open - literally forcing them to expose themselves from the 'inside out' as Alice reflects in Not Your Seed. you can't force genuine emotional connection, it has to be fostered, shown in the much more affecting relationship of Paul and Emma. the only reason the hive actually has power over our characters is because of these genuine emotional connections, which it tries and often fails to take advantage of, resulting in just resorting to brute violence. messy hive, very messy.

at the core, the musical's a kinda attack on that toxic positivity mindst: trying to force people to reach the sort of easy solutions by sharing feelings in a way that feels pretty invasive and deciding you are instantly fixed. the problems these characters face are jarringly not really what you'd expect a character in a musical to face, cheating, a lot of it, mid-life crisis. problems that are bland, or wayyyy too real. this is purposefully done, to reveal just how silly the hive's aim to use musical theatre to solve everyone's problem is. life is more complex than that smh.

4. a human can write a much more expressive, and genuine song than they ever could lol

u know which song I'm talking abt. what more is there to say. so much for making persuasive songs to tempt people over.

5. make me sad cause they took some perfectly nice ppl and funked them up 😭

this was a stupid point lol. basically I'm just bitter that this hive took a bunch of perfectly okay ppl and gave them hive brain. screw u hive. I swear I'm gonna watch Black Friday soon, cause I'm sure it's gonna completely destroy every thought I've had so far, but whateve,,, just take this as a look at tgwdlm like it's a stand-alone piece.

these guys are supposed to all be 'individuals' on one level, but also 'appendages of a much larger organism'. there's a little too much individualism and fracturing to be cohesive enough to do that I feel. the hive to me is not an infallible, unstoppable force, in fact, every human it takes over only brings it closer to understanding us. so that's maybe a slight positive note??? idk ?! I just have lots of thoughts and feelings abt this musical even if this doesn't make sense I'm proud i wrote it down hehe.

[sou-ver-2-0]

How different do you think Shin's character, or the story in general, would be if Shin had been a girl instead (let's call her, I dunno, Shinko. Souko can be her false name)? Obviously I don't believe it would make a /tremendous/ change to either the character or story, but it's just something interesting and fun to think and discuss about.

I agree that’s a fascinating topic!! At the core of Shin’s character is someone who worries tremendously about how others perceive them. Would the others perceive Shin differently if Shin were a girl? Would fem!Shin adopt new strategies to counter different kinds of expectations? Even subtle changes in the writing could make the story feel very different to us.

Personally, I’ve always thought that one of the best cards up Shin’s sleeve in canon is that he’s a man! Because we take men’s words seriously, even if they’re liars. If Shin were a woman, she might struggle more to be believed.

Before I go any further, I’ll keep calling her Shin, since Shin is a gender-neutral name. (That’s a plot point in the game! When the cast wonders if “Shin Tsukimi” could be the alias of one of the girls.) Based on my quick research, it seems like “Sou” is a masculine name. While “Shinko” and “Souko” sound sweet to me, I feel weird making up Japanese names, since I’m not Japanese. So I’ll keep using the original names, but I’ll try to be as clear as possible.

When I brought up your question to my sister, she pointed out to me that we could play this out in two ways. The first is the way you suggested, that fem!Shin pretends to be fem!Sou. But we could also do this the “Shakespearean way”; what if Shin was a girl pretending to be a boy? What if fem!Shin still chose to adopt the persona of the strongest man she knew, Sou Hiyori? This route would be especially emotional if fem!Shin were a trans woman or nonbinary, and still felt compelled to hide something essential about herself in order to survive. I don’t believe I’m the most qualified person to tell this kind of story, but that premise sounds intriguing. The subtext of Shin’s arc is already about repressing your true nature; this would simply be making the subtext text.

(Obviously that type of plot point can be handled in bad taste! But I think it could be a thoughtful exploration of gender issues, if written well. The focus of Shin’s name reveal here should not be “shock value,” and should instead feel like the natural culmination of her arc—that’s how Shin’s name reveal already feels in canon, so the new sentiment should mirror that. I think it also helps that we have another trans character in Alice, who lives more openly, and would bring a necessary perspective to this type of story.)

But let’s go back to the first way that you suggested, that fem!Shin pretends to be fem!Sou. What are some changes we might see if our lying antagonist presented herself as a woman?

I definitely think her biggest disadvantage would be that we take women’s words less seriously than men’s. To use a sad example, I think even Sara struggles with this. Would the group take Sara as seriously as a leader if she didn’t have Keiji backing her up? I don’t think they would.

In contrast, Shin is a liar who tries to command the group’s attention by behaving outrageously. This is already an incredibly dangerous gamble in canon. It’s made even more difficult by Shin beginning the game with a timid personality. I can imagine Fem!Shin struggling even more. It wouldn’t be a tremendous change, like you said, but you could definitely play it up. Maybe Fem!Shin would need to rely even more on acting “cutsey” to get what she wanted, if folks wouldn’t believe her when she tries to sound confident.

Perhaps Q-Taro might even throw Fem!Shin under the bus in the First Main Game, like he does with Nao, Gin, and Kanna? I remember that my sister and I joked that the reason Q-Taro doesn’t call Shin “useless” in canon was because of the unspoken “Bro Code.” (In other words, Q-Taro wouldn’t target an adult man—even one as weak as Shin—because that would endanger himself too!)

On the other hand, folks might be more “delicate” with Fem!Shin, and less likely to threaten her with violence? That would be an advantage! I’m especially thinking of how the group goes on a witch hunt for Shin in the beginning of Chapter 2, and Reko says that she wants to beat up the “beanie bastard,” while Keiji says he wants to throw handcuffs on Shin. Later in Chapter 2, after Shin takes the Sacrifice Card from Q-Taro, Q-Taro “stomps around” in a rage planning to attack Shin! Would they talk differently if Shin were a woman? It’s possible!

The downside of men being “taken seriously” is that we overlook their vulnerabilities. Shin is frail, but this is mockable in canon because he’s a man. If Shin were a frail woman, that would be expected. I think folks would be more careful with their threats and jokes if Shin were a woman. This also ties into how people often don’t take it seriously when men are victims of abuse—something masc!Shin likely struggles with in his regular life, since being an abuse survivor is an important part of Shin’s character.

Being a woman could also subtly change Shin’s relationships with other characters!

For example, Shin’s power games with Keiji would look different. On the one hand, I could imagine Keiji trying to be “nicer” to Fem!Shin, at least in the beginning. On the other hand? We could make this darker. I could imagine Keiji flirting with Shin to intimidate her. But instead of trying to “push her away” like he does with Sara, he’d be trying to put Shin in her place. Keiji is a master with words, and he could use them to devastating effect to remind Shin that she’s a woman while he’s the man in control. (To be clear, there’s no reason Keiji couldn’t flirt with Shin in canon! I’ve even written a ficlet of this exact scenario that I never intend to publish. I’m simply thinking that it would appear more “normal” for Keiji to flirt with another woman in public, and Keiji is concerned about appearances in this Death Game too.)

What about Shin and Kanna? One detail I thought of is that Fem!Shin might feel a little more hurt that Kanna sees her sister in Sara instead of her. Masc!Shin can rationalize that Sara is a girl, but Fem!Shin has to rationalize even more. I started thinking about how Fem!Shin might worry that she’s too old or not pretty enough for Kanna’s affection? Personally, it makes me emotional in canon how Shin was sure that Kanna would pick Sara over him if she had the Sacrifice. We know he feels self-conscious about it. I like to wonder what his thoughts were. Fem!Shin’s worries might look a little bit different, even if they’re worrying about the same problem.

As for Shin and Sara, their rivalry would also look different, even if it’s subtle. Fem!Shin would lose the advantage of “being a man,” though she still has the advantage of age. Maybe Sara would sympathize more easily with another woman? Maybe she’d feel a little sad that Fem!Shin won’t join the group of “The Idiot Girls”? Or perhaps their arguments would turn even pettier. I do want Sara to still be able to attack Fem!Shin to try to claim the smartphone!! Just because you’re a woman, don’t think I’ll go easy on you!

Those were my main ideas, Anon! Thank you for the fascinating question. I did my best with it!

[lizacstuff]

Sen Çal Kapımı / Edser ask from episode 43 (2x04)

AKA Serkan’s episode. 

There is also speculation about episode 44 based on the fragmans and a few random asks

 (Asks under the cut)

Anonymous asked: Hey, Liza! How did you like the ep? I still get chills when watching the diary x video scene and the final one.. Finally the truth is out to both Serkan and Kiraz! And that fragman! 😍 but It seems like Aydan filing for custody will be the new drama, do you think it will last long? Because I highly doubt that they will give solely happy edser and Kiraz in remaining episodes..

My full episode thoughts are here,  but I agree the diary and video scene was spectacular. It makes me teary every time. 

I’m also psyched that the truth is out. Truthfully, I was one that wanted Serkan to find out at the end of the first episode, but now I concede that it was better to draw it out a bit to really build everything up to this episode and his journey to letting go of his fears. What a character arc they gave him. They really explored Serkan and what drives him this episode and it was a treat-- a painful treat-- to watch it all unfold and for him to finally admit what had driven him to push her away all those years ago and what was still holding him back in the present. 

As for what’s next, that’s a great question. I agree that it’s unlikely we’re going to get happy Edser family from here on out, there has to be some obstacles and drama before we get to the end. The Aydan custody drama will clearly be the conflict in episode 5, but I don’t see it as any real barrier for Eda and Serkan. We see in the second fragman that Eda is already confronting Serkan about it, so if Aydan is doing something underhanded they can’t draw it out too long. 

I assume that while the custody thing may cause a wee bit of miscommunication between Eda and Serkan, I think it mostly will serve as fodder for Aydan and Ayfer’s relationship dynamic and give the supporting characters something to run around and chase after while Eda, Serkan and Kiraz actually start forming their new family unit. If anything it might serve as a catalyst for Serkan. Picture it, Eda confronts Serkan about it and Serkan is like “I don’t know anything about that, I wouldn’t do something that would hurt you or Kiraz, but I do want her, I want us.” You know, serve to clarify things.  

There are probably a few episodes of family drama in store for us as everyone, including Eda, Serkan and Kiraz adjust to this new reality. I assume once the euphoria of having her Baba back wears off for Kiraz, she might ask some questions that are hard for Eda and Serkan to answer. We shall see. 

Anonymous asked: i don't think i've cried THIS much at an sck episode... in like ever lmao. i was full on silent sobbing at serkan watching kiraz's baby videos.. but the scene i really loved the most was the one where they have it out after that fancy dinner. it was EVERYTHING we needed to hear serkan's POV and i almost can't believe a lot of us got the "can't have kids" theory right. i have loved so much this season how edser have communicated, even when it's painful and hard.. it was sorely missing for them.

I know! The communication! I don’t think they’ve ever communicated like this. Of course their issues were not as deep and nuanced back in the first batch of episodes so going this in-depth wasn’t necessary, but they didn’t communicate like this when dealing with Babaanne or when it was really needed after the amnesia era.  

Honestly, so pleased the “can’t have kids” theory was correct. It goes so far in explaining his actions and thought process when pushing her away, as distorted as that thought process was.  It truly was selfless, because I’m sure all he wanted was to hold her tight and never let go, but it was also so unnecessary. Their love story has just been so tragic, but if you think about how many things were stacked against them, it’s also stunning that their love has persevered. They were so opposite and unlikely to fall in love to begin with and then you add in all the things that stood in their way, meddling mothers, family secrets, Serkan’s father being responsible for her parents death, evil, rich, powerful grandmother using everything in her considerable arsenal to keep them apart, psycho stalkers, kidnapping princes, crashing planes, amnesia, brainwashing and abusive exes, plotting “friends,” tumor, cancer, separation!

To come out of all of that and to see they are clearly still in love with one another... well they really don’t have any other choice. They should get married immediately with no pomp and circumstance just so they are legally tied together. So when the next tragic, catastrophic thing comes along it will be that much harder to pull them apart.  

Anonymous asked: deniz and burak are the most harmless "3rd party" characters we've ever had in the show that it almost makes me laugh when ppl get so insecure about them.. especially with burak, knowing that he's gonna be melo's love interest, even if i don't want it. like, sure serkan is naturally gonna be jealous, maybe possessive, because of "buba" but it's all being shown right now as light comedic relief.. i've seen some people REALLY take it to heart when it really doesn't seem like it's that deep lol.

I know, it’s all so mild. They also aren’t actually even third party love interests, because there is absolutely zero interest from either side of the main pair. Both are there to a) serve plot purposes and b) show that neither Eda or Serkan is interested in anybody else. It’s nice, we get to see that while they both have had options, neither has been able to move on and both have chosen to remain alone. 

As for driving the plot, Burak’s presence was necessary because they needed someone who Serkan thought was Kiraz’s father, and Deniz was necessary because they needed someone who would do whatever Serkan wanted when Serkan wanted to force proximity with Eda. 

Looking at the fragman, the real “triangle” might be Buba - Kiraz - Baba  but I also think that will mostly be played for laughs.  A way to give us some “Drain the pool” and “Burn the flowers” type jealousy moments from Serkan, since that was a hallmark of Ayse’s early writing. 

However, I can see why some folks were put-off by that vibe. Because, yes, if you’ve been standing in as a male-figure for the 5-year-old daughter of the woman you’re tying to woo (let’s not pretend that’s not why Burak takes such an interest in Kiraz) and the father that the 5-year-old has been wanting and pining for actually re-enters the picture, maybe you don’t need to force your way in and have “Buba day” the day after he returns. I’m not saying you can’t have it ever again, I’m saying you let the family have some alone time and figure things out. Anyone with any emotional intelligence would postpone such an outing. However, it looks like Serkan is not put off so easily and we know he doesn’t lose, so it will probably lead to humorous scenes. 

The good thing about this is that it shows that Serkan won’t sit passively by. Here Burak is giving him an out, Serkan can have his day back, go to work, he can slide into fatherhood slowly, but looks like Serkan is going to have none of that and is going to crash their fishing outing. How’s that for someone who said he wasn’t ready for fatherhood a mere 24-48 hours earlier?

Also it’s worth noting that Kiraz doesn’t see Burak as a father-figure, if she did she probably would have joined Ayfer and tried to get her mom to marry him. Instead she’s been almost obsessed with her father, talking about him, dreaming about him, wanting him and was very quick to correct when someone mistook Baba and Buba. Also she wanted Buba to meet her father.  So Kiraz wanting to spend time with him isn’t a slight, in her mind he’s a friend, an uncle and with all the upheaval keeping their plans might feel safe to her. We’ll see.   

 martha0206 asked: Hi! I love your pinned post. That moment was perfect. Also, I loved the sad and emotional scenes as well as the funny ones. The episode was amazing!!! ❤ Serkan made Kiraz dream come true and I've rewatched that scene and cried because it's too beautiful and touching 🥺 K: Dad? S: Happy Birthday, my daughter 🥺😭❤

Ahh... this post that was pinned.  Thank you for the kind words, I also love that scene. I just love it because it’s such an EXTRA thing to do, putting on the astronaut costume and making an entrance like that, but both Serkan and Eda have always been so extra that it works for their little family. 

I love that he made Kiraz’s dream come true in the most dramatic way possible.  But beyond being dramatic, it was the perfect way to signal that no matter what fears or hang-ups Serkan had, he’s committed to getting over them and he’s ready to go all in on fatherhood. A perfect way to show not only Eda that he’s serious, but to show all their friends and family he’s serious. DO YOU HEAR THAT, AYFER? He’s back and he’s going to be her daddy, and there is nothing you can do about it!

Anonymous asked: do you think the writers goal is to make us hate Ayfer and Aydan? because its just a deeper and deeper hole for these two and I don't understand if they're supposed to be a happy family at the end. I actually realized going back that Ayfer never really developed into liking Serkan/Edser, she just accepted him one day and that was that but with Aydan, her character development was top tier up until episode 29 came along and she never recovered. Now I just want them gone.

LOL, I think this is a pretty popular sentiment among fans.  

Personally, I need to see how badly Aydan is meddling in the next episode. If it’s fairly inept meddling that just causes some mild misunderstandings but also serves as a catalyst for an Edser conversation about the future, I probably won’t get too upset with her.  However, if her meddling is more competent this time and she gets them into real trouble or causes real problems, then I’ll get annoyed with her. Although, I have to say if we need a few episodes of drama, I would rather this sort of controlled, family drama (meddling mamas causing a misunderstanding about custody) then, you know, other melodramatic things that certain other writing teams used to do... like kidnappings and obsessed stalkers. 

As for Aydan, I can’t help it, even though I can never forgive her transgression in 29, I feel sorry that she lost out on so much of her granddaughter’s life.  So if she wants to come in and cause headaches and drama for Ayfer (not Eda, Kiraz and Serkan... but Ayfer) then I have no problem with that. As far as I’m concerned those two can run around for the next few episodes playing cat and mouse while Eda/Serkan/Kiraz quietly form a family.

Honestly, I don’t think they want us to hate Aydan, because they give Aydan funny scenes and relationships outside of Serkan with Kemal and Seyfi and even Engin and Piril, but I have wondered if they want us to hate Ayfer. Because Ayfer doesn’t get any redeeming scenes.  I mean we’re talking about a woman who managed to raise her orphaned niece and her niece never wanted for love and turned out to be a strong, smart, confidence, successful woman... sooooo she must be awesome, right!?!  NOPE. I mean to take a character like that, who had to have been so instrumental in Eda not feeling lonely like Serkan did, but then make her so unlikeable... it has to be on purpose.  

Anonymous asked: I loved this episode of sen cal kapimi. I wasn’t so mad at the pregnancy thing. I know lots of fans are but I really liked how they made Eda and Serkan emotional and we could understand them better. I just hate how all the people who don’t like the show anymore have turned into toxic haters. It’s so frustrating. If she show isnt working for you, then why do they keep watching? 🙁

This happens in every fandom where the show keeps going and takes turns that some fans don’t like. My best advice is to not expect others to change or to stop watching or stop hate tweeting/posting, but to take steps to change your own experience so they don’t ruin it for you. I can’t tell you how many people I currently have muted on twitter. Lots. I don’t want to see the cynical, nasty tweets day in and day out about this show, the writers etc. Twitter has always been hard to take because so many people post their knee-jerk responses there and often choose to word vomit their first emotional response which for some people is mostly negative. That is true for every fandom, and has been true for this fandom since I started looking at responses there. 

So to protect yourself, seek out people who are enjoying the show and post content that you want to see and mute, unfollow or even block those who make your experience worse. 

You’ll never regret curating your experience. 

Also I don’t really consider this fandom toxic. Sure there’s negativity about the storyline and internal drama about a variety of things, but after you’ve been though shipwars that get hella toxic and include fans trying to destroy actor’s careers and who attempt to use social justice issues to bully their fanon ships into existence on a constant day-after-day basis for years, this is nothing. This fandom is a daisy-lined, sunlight walk in the park in comparison.  

Anonymous asked: For the way they treat their child's SO, I prefer Aydan over Ayfer. Ofc Aydan has been selfish & rude to Eda but Aydan saw her as a respectable foe even when she didn't like Eda. Even now her ire has been directed more at Ayfer than Eda. Ayfer eventually accepted Serkan but never seemed to like him. I get why she thought he was bad for Eda but often her anger has been unwarranted. Ironic how mad she was at him for keeping a secret from Eda for 2 weeks. Even now we see how Ayfer's anger sways Eda

I also prefer Aydan over Ayfer, here’s my recent post on it. 

The problem is not that Ayfer never liked Serkan, the problem is that Ayfer never care that Eda did like him. Ayfer can dislike him all she wants as long as she doesn’t interfere, but oh wait, she has interfered, time and time again. She’s used guilt and manipulation in attempts to control Eda at every turn, to the point, at times, of not caring that she was forcing Eda to sacrifice her career as well as her love. 

It will be interesting to see Ayfer’s response when she realizes Eda is going to let Serkan into their lives. Will she double down on badmouthing Serkan and pressuring Eda not to get involved with him, or will she smarten up and back off? I think we know the answer to that. 

Anonymous asked: Hii! I’m curious what they will come up with for the remaining episodes, I mean, drama-wise, cause no way will Ayse give us 7 episodes of Edser x Kiraz happy family time 🥺 but sure, that is also reasonable since Turks need drama to keep watching

You know, as I said above, I’m very curious about this. To be honest I didn’t really expect Eda and Serkan to be at this emotional place by the 4th episode. I mean they’re not totally ready to get back together, but they’ve both made it obvious that they still love one another, and that is kind of a big milestone in a romantic story. 

Seriously, my assumption prior to the season was that we’d have these initial finding out episodes, and then Eda and Serkan would still be sort of outwardly pretending that they didn’t want to get back together, or still angry at one another, but then they’d be forced together by Kiraz. You know there’d be some parent trapping, and a handcuff episodes and then Kiraz would manipulate them into living together and we’d get all sorts of domestic sexual tension scenes.  Now these things may still happen to some degree, but Edser is starting from a very different outward emotional place than I thought they would be. I assumed we’d get another 4-5 episodes of slow burn, forced proximity before they admitted things and got engaged. But now it feels like their feelings are out in the open and they could decide to get married at any moment. 

So we’ll have to see how the writer’s decide to chart their emotional journey over the remaining episodes. One thing I’m sure of, there are some wonderful scenes coming our way.  

Anonymous asked: I'm back and happy to say that Engin delivered!! THAT is how you use a side character. (Not whatever they were doing with Ayfer for what seemed like half the episode) This was a perfect scene for these two and had no business being as emotional as it was

Oh, yes, as I said here in my episode thoughts, the Engin/Serkan scene is the one that really started me crying on first watch. Anil was really fantastic in that scene and it made me realize how sorely I had missed Serkan/Engin as male best friends who actually talk about their emotions. Where was that guy when Serkan was being brainwashed and manipulated by Selin!?! Oh yeah he was in the hands of inept writers. 

Glad the real Engin is back!

Anonymous asked: Serkan's vehemence against wanting kids, and his dislike of kids in general, make so much more sense with what was revealed.. we just had to be patient! I can't imagine wanting something so much, having it be your "dream" and being told it's impossible.. Serkan's method of dealing with it was trying to convince himself he never wanted it in the first place and trying to dislike the topic altogether. no wonder he was never close with Can either as an uncle... how heartbreaking!

Yes, I absolutely think that was part of it. He dealt with the fact that he couldn't have children by outwardly adopting the attitude that he never wanted it, even though he still knew deep down that it’s all he wanted with Eda. 

Heartbreaking indeed. 

Anonymous asked: i hate to think of more drama when it seems like we have such a fluff-filled episode next week.. but this week's conversations b/w edser have me thinking.. do you think a possibility of reoccurrence of his tumor, or just a scare could be coming as one of their "final" hurdles. except this time instead of making his mistakes from the past, he'll do it right this time. obviously everything will be resolved happily, but i was thinking of the possibility of this when serkan was discussing his health

While anything is possible, I don’t see a reoccurrence of his tumor happening because they had a scene where the doctor said he was in perfect health and that since it had been five years he now had the same chance of occurrence as an ordinary person.  However, I suppose it’s not impossible that they give him some sort of scare so that he can prove he’s changed and that they won’t abandon his family if that sort of adversity comes again. 

Honestly, if I was Eda, I would make him go to therapy as a condition of them getting back together. Make sure he develops some coping skills for the long haul. 

Anonymous asked: the ending of the last episode was equivalent to ep 11 but kiraz version for me.. the whole build-up of serkan initially thinking he can't be her father - a good father - and his fears about leaving them both halfway culminating in him saying kiraz is a miracle, that she's perfect.. watching her home videos to showing up WHEN IT MATTERED!! for his daughter.. ugh i'm so glad there was that build-up, but also that it wasn't stretched out over multiple episodes.

Yes, I agree it was all really well done. It did feel like we had all the build up we needed to truly appreciate the moment and to appreciate Serkan’s extraordinary character arc. 

He truly rose to the occasion at the right moment, and I love that his grand gesture not only made Kiraz’s dream come true, but it showed everyone his growth and acceptance of his role as her father. 

Anonymous asked: can they just bring back Tahir - him and Melo had so much potential. let's just say he finally quit working for Babaanne and decided to come back to Istanbul to find Melo 😊

Yes, please!  He really liked her! Though she never really liked him, lmao. She could have gotten there with time. Though, I guess if she really likes Burak I can get behind it. And by that I mean I won’t bitch about it too much. No promises. We shall see. 

Anonymous asked: Anon here! Thank you so much for that explanation!!!! It seems really interesting, might just have to give it a chance now! Thank you kindly 😊😊

It’s a fun show and I do recommend it. Let me know if you start watching!

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

Normal Love and Superheroes: Two - my city

Summary: Leena gets a meeting with the Bruce Wayne himself and a call from John Blake. 

Pairing: John Blake x OFC (Leena Duckett) 

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: none I think...characters discuss Sexy Times and getting drunk but like that’s it I suppose

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

“Why the heck would he want a private tour with me? He asked for me specifically?”

“Look that’s what he said over the phone, Leena.”

“But did he say why?”

“I’m so terribly sorry I didn’t take the time to ask Bruce frickin’ Wayne, one of the biggest patrons of the gallery, why he asked for a tour from you specifically.”

Leena blushed. “Sorry, Adeline. I just…”

“Don’t worry about it.” The blonde sitting behind the welcome desk smiled with a closed mouth. “I’d react the same way if I were in your shoes. A whole hour or more with Bruce Wayne….”

Another tour guide jogged up to the front desk from the bowels of the gallery. Leena turned and watched her approach. Phoebe had a look of conspiracy and impression on her long face. She came to a halt beside Leena and elbowed her in the side.

“So are you gonna take Mr. Wayne into one of the more….Private rooms of the gallery?” Phoebe asked with a wicked smile.

Leena rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the hot feeling that was spreading from her neck into her face. It was no secret about Gotham that Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, was extremely attractive and constantly single. She saw the tabloid covers as she stood in line at the grocery store. She even ran into him outside of a restaurant one time. But his sexual promiscuity was not what bothered her about giving him a private tour. It was more the fact that he was Bruce Wayne, billionaire enigma businessman that seemed to have intimidation come out of his very pores. Who was she to be giving him a tour of the galleries that he often bought from? A no-name artist who worked two jobs, one of which she hated, to make ends meet? That didn’t sound like the kind of girl that should be giving a Wayne tours of anything.

“No I will not, Phoebe, Jesus!” Leena laughed.

“Oh, come on, have you seen him? Plus, you know he’d be open to it. He’s slept with every hot girl in Gotham and beyond.”

“Just cause he’s slept around doesn’t mean he’d be open to swapping spit in a broom closet with a random gallery tour guide.” Leena rolled her eyes. “Maybe he wants just a normal day out. Like anyone else.”

“God, you’re no fun,” Phoebe groaned.

“I think we know from after hours drinks just how fun Leena can be,” Adeline, the front desk girl, pitched in.

Leena rolled her eyes again and smirked. She always told herself, after those nights out, that she would never fall into the temptation of going again. She always got way too drunk, being a lightweight that fell very easily under peer pressure. And because she always got way too drunk, she always ended up doing something she regretted. Like dancing on top of a table, kissing some random person in the dark corner of the bar they frequented, or possibly recreating dance scenes from Chicago with very little success.

“Please stop,” Leena begged with a red face.

“Excuse me ladies.” An older gentleman with an English accent approached the front desk. He looked very nice in a dark suit with white thinning hair. “I’m here for my tour of the gallery.”

“Of course, what’s the name attached to the tour?” Adeline asked.

Phoebe squeezed Leena’s arm and wiggled her eyebrows before she trotted off, back into the gallery. And Leena was about to do the same, but —

“Bruce Wayne. I run his house and am looking for some new work to be put up. I believe I set aside a tour guide already?” the old man said.

“Oh, yes, you did.” Adeline typed on the computer for a moment, giving Leena a bit of side-eye as she did so. “You’ll be touring with Ms. Duckett.”

Leena let out a breath. A sudden wash of relief and disappointment running through her. She knew that the gallery was the place for many of Gotham’s most elite families to buy art for their various homes throughout the world. Rich folk wanting to support local artists. But she had never given a tour to any actual members of those families. It was always the butlers, the house runners, the managers, the publicists even. But they always state that it is the butler or the house runner coming to assess new pieces that have been put up. So when Bruce Wayne’s actual name was logged into the system, Leena really thought it was going to be him walking through the halls of their gallery. Really laying his eyes on the art and choosing it for himself rather than someone else choosing it for him and barely even noticing that it was hung in his manor. The disappointment didn’t last long, however.

Leena stepped towards the old man with a smile. “And I am Ms. Duckett. A pleasure to meet you…”

“Alfred, miss.” He held out his hand and she shook it.

“Well, right this way, Alfred.” She gestured for them to enter the gallery and she began to lead. “We’ll start with our glassworks suite — “

They entered the first room of the gallery. The Shefield Gallery was extensive, housing several different mediums of art from a variety of artists. Pure white walls to off balance the bright pops of color that the artwork created, heightening the customer intrigue. In this first room there were at least fourteen pedestals strewn about the room, each one holding a different piece of glass artwork. Leena liked to look at glasswork, but would probably never attempt creating any herself. Molten glass just seemed a little too dangerous for her taste.

“Actually, sorry to be a bother, but I was hoping to look at something specific on this trip.” Alfred pulled a piece of paper from his suit jacket pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to Leena. “A piece specifically requested by Master Wayne.”

Leena stopped them and took the piece of paper with raised brows. It was a print out from the gallery’s website. Her eyes widened.

That was her painting. Put up in the employee suite of the gallery after much begging and finally the curator taking pity on her for being a slightly hungry artist.

She looked back up at Alfred to see him smiling at her. She quickly regained herself and asked, “Um — are you sure it’s this one that Mr. Wayne wants?”

“Yes. That’s the one.”

With a resigned nod and a thick swallow, Leena led Alfred to the employee suite. She could feel her fingers going numb. Bruce Wayne wanted her painting? Really? He asked for it specifically? She was sure that the old man had to be lying to her for her benefit. Playing some sort of weird joke that ended with her humiliated and a playboy billionaire laughing at the footage of her misfortune. Or maybe there was no farce and the man really did like her painting so much he wanted to buy it and hang it in his home. Leena rubbed at her neck. He would be the first person to ever like her work enough to do so.

They came to the employee suite and Leena stopped them in front of the painting in question. She put her head down as Alfred looked at it. His thin lips were quirked up in a small smile but she couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.

“Pick your head up, miss,” he said, “I know you painted this.”

“Is that why you asked for me for your tour?” Leena asked.

“It is indeed.” His smile widened. “Master Wayne wanted me to see what kind of person could paint something like that.”

He pointed to the canvas and Leena furrowed her brows. She turned to the painting herself. Was there some vulgar message she, the artist, had missed? No. She couldn’t see it. All she saw was a portrait of Gotham at night. Done in oil paints on a medium sized canvas, Leena had always been told she leaned too far into her impressionist influences. But she couldn’t help it. Ordinary subject matter with a heightened sense of romanticism and color was something that Leena was just drawn too. The painting was Gotham at night, looking out over the skyline with the lights from the offices and apartments shining brightly, as if the viewer were looking down from the highest story of some building or other. In the glowing rooms in the foreground, people could be seen. Families, tired office workers, friends getting together.

She had titled the painting My City.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she said, turning back to Alfred.

“Master Wayne sees Gotham as a dark place — a place full of hate, injustice, and cruelty,” Alfred said.

Leena pulled a face. “While I will not disagree with Mr. Wayne — Gotham is full of the worst kinds of things — but it is also still worth saving. And loving. And living in if only to save it and love it more.”

Alfred smiled, a soft and knowing thing that made Leena’s eyes narrow.

“And Master Wayne would agree with that sentiment as well.” He turned to the painting again, hands clasped behind his back. “Which is why he was drawn to your work so much. You share similar views on a city that many have lost faith in — a rare find, especially in art form.”

Leena was puzzled. Bruce Wayne grew up in Gotham, just like she did. But they saw completely different sides of Gotham. Wayne saw only the elite, the rich, the famous side. The side that lived in penthouse suites, owned entire blocks of buildings, and could afford to eat at those fancy restaurants downtown. The faces of Gotham City. While Leena saw the hands and feet, the workers and the heart and soul of Gotham. The side that worked fifty hour weeks, lived in the slums, and had to cut up and burn their own furniture to keep warm. Gotham wasn’t worth saving because of the side that Bruce Wayne saw, that made it worth damnation. Gotham was worth saving because of what Leena saw.

“Um — well — uh — I…I don’t really know what to say. I wish I could tell Mr. Wayne thank you in person.”

Alfred seemed to get an idea. “How about you deliver the painting in person to Wayne Manor? Tomorrow perhaps? You could thank him in person and he would get to meet the artist behind the painting that has captivated him for so long. That is, if you are free, of course.”

“Well, if he wanted to do that he could have come himself today.” Leena couldn’t stop the words before they came out of her mouth.

Her eyes widened as she stared at Alfred. God, she really needed to learn how to control her mouth. She could feel her neck heating up and her face paling all at the same time. Her face scrunched up as she closed her eyes. Maybe if she didn’t look at him he would just go away or she would just sink into the floor. Either option would spare her from the agonizing embarrassment ripping through her right now.

“I’m so — “

Alfred chuckled. He actually started laughing. A polite and somehow very British thing that had Leena’s eyes flying open.

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Ms. Duckett,” he chuckled out, “But Master Wayne has turned into a bit of a recluse as of late. And I really do think he would appreciate meeting you.”

Leena bit down hard on her lip. If it meant making the $500 the painting was priced at, she was willing to do anything honestly. Even it meant borrowing Jamie’s car and meeting the actual Bruce fricking Wayne himself. That was enough money to pay her half of the rent for the month and she only had to do one thing. Not work her ass off at two different jobs. Her need for the money more than outweighed her apprehensions about meeting a billionaire and talking to him about her art and her thoughts on Gotham.

“Alright. Tomorrow at three o’clock. Is that an okay time?”

“Oh, yes. Just in time for tea.”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Please could you stop the noise? I’m trying to get some rest,” Leena sang as she cleaned her paint brushes, “From all the unborn chicken voices in my head!”

She moved back to the canvas she had set up by the windows overlooking the city. Who knew getting a meeting with one of Gotham’s most influential men would give her inspiration for a new painting? The reference photo of Bruce Wayne was tacked into the corner of the canvas. She had gotten the idea on the train ride and subsequent bus ride back to her apartment when her shift at the gallery was over. Something about Bruce Wayne being a recluse and seeing the good in Gotham just gave her a spark of inspiration. A spark of inspiration to lesson her fears about meeting the man by painting him as a vigilante sasquatch.

It was at least making her feel better about the whole thing. Jamie had walked in from her own work shift with many questions about it. But Leena had only held up a finger for patience and put her headphones back in. Jamie knew what that meant. Her roommate had had a weird day and needed to vent through her art.

Leena continued to paint for some time. Lost in the music and the colors and shapes that flowed from her paintbrush. Leena’s mother had given her paints and paper when she was very little as a distracting craft while she tried to clean around the house. But her mother could not have known that that would have sparked a lifelong love for art and painting. A dedication to get better and better and find her own style. Winning contests, medals, and even studying art in college. Leena felt the most at home when she was painting. Felt the most herself when she had a brush in her hand and a vision in her head that just needed to be let out.

This was one of those ideas she just knew would consume her every waking, and possibly sleeping, thought until she got it out and onto the canvas. Vigilante sasquatch Bruce Wayne was going to camp out in her cerebral cortex until she had brought him to life. Trekking through the woods, covered in body hair, wearing a stupid bright red face mask. If he thought the city was so worth saving, then why didn’t he give money to the police department so they had the tools to catch the criminals loose on Gotham’s streets? Why didn’t he donate money to improve Gotham’s infrastructure, education, hospitals, mental health services, or literally anything else besides funneling money into his own company?

If she were to see him right now, she would have a piece of her mind to give him that was —

Her phone started vibrating in the pocket of her apron. Leena groaned. She had gotten into such a good groove, too. She pulled out her iPod first and paused her music. Then she flipped open her phone and held it up to her ear. She didn’t even bother to see who was calling. Her mother usually called around that time of day anyway.

“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” she asked as she pinched the phone between her cheek and shoulder.

“Uh — “ A distinctly male voice came through. “Sorry, this is John Blake. Were you expecting your mom to call you? Cause I can call back later.”

Oh, God. After realizing that, in her euphoria, she had forgotten to get his number, she had been waiting to hear from him for nearly two days.  

“Oh, shit,” she said, quickly wiping her paint stained hands off on her apron, “Um, no — sorry. Sorry. I wasn’t — with my mom. I can talk now. Officer Blake — John. Officer Blake?”

At the mention of that name, Jamie peeked her head out from the gap in the curtains surrounding her bed with a look of pure interest on her face. Mouth open and her eyebrows raised as she looked across the room. Leena shooed her away with a wave of her hand and an uncontrollable smile.

“You can just call me John,” he laughed, “You getting around okay without the bike?”

“Uh, yeah. Taking the train and the bus — definitely throwing my budget out of whack but — that doesn’t matter…At all.” Leena glanced over at Jamie, still listening in, only to see her roommate roll her eyes.

When did she get so terrible at talking to men?

“Well, I have some good news for you.” Leena could feel her heart jump into her mouth, making her physically stand on tip toe and stare out the window as he continued to speak. “I found it. So — uh, where do you wanna go for our date?”

Leena squeezed her eyes shut, the smile on her face nearly hurting her cheeks as she tilted her head towards the ceiling. Was this really happening? After Jacob, she didn’t know if she would ever find anyone else. If she would be willing to put herself out there like that again. But with John, something felt different. He was safe, kind, and somehow she just knew that he would never hurt her like Jacob did. She twirled around once and she could hear Jamie whispering, asking what was going on. Leena ignored her roommate.

“How about Superdawg?”

Superdawg? Jamie mouthed with an unbelieving face.

“That hotdog place over by Robinson Park?”

“Uh, yeah.”

She heard him chuckle. “Sorry. I just suppose I expected you to pick something a bit more…I don’t know…”

“I’m not a fancy kind of girl, trust me.” Leena laughed. “We could eat and then maybe take a walk around the park or something? If that sounds good to you — I don’t — “

“No, that — that sounds great, actually.  Honestly, kinda glad you didn’t pick something fancy.”

“Okay, cool.” Leena looked over at Jamie with raised brows and a wide smile. “Uh, what time?”

“Saturday — tomorrow at six? I can pick you up?”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then, Leena.” She loved the sound of him saying her name. “Bye.”

“Bye.” She flipped her phone closed and turned to face Jamie with fists triumphant in the air. “I have a date! And I’m getting my bike back!”

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: “Sunsets and Slip ups”

Pairing: dom! Yoongi x sub! brat! Reader ft. Namjoon ft. Jimin

Warnings: angst, cheating, degradation, abusive parent (trigger warning!!), smut, cream pie, spit play, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), If I missed anything, I am sorry!!!

*Author’s Note: I wrote this part very differently, introducing you into the mind of the ‘Min Boy’ character. It’s much longer than my other fics (8300)!! Honestly, the story came together so well that I just kept going. I hope you all enjoy!!*

Rating: 18 and over

Y/N:

Your phone pings beside you causing you to stir in your bed. You roll over reluctantly, not sure if you want to start the day even though you're not really sleeping. A second ping causes you to make your decision, awake it is. ‘I have to go to away this weekend. I’ll be back late Sunday.’ The first message reads. ‘Sorry to spring this on you but I wasn’t expecting it either. Be good brat. Xo. Min.’ You jump up from under the covers and reread the text over and over. You type a response and delete it, then type another and delete that as well. “Fuck it.” You throw off the covers and pace your bedroom, opting to call. The phone rings for what feels like forever. “Hello.” He answers. “You can't go away this weekend!” “Can I call you back please?” He’s annoyed and you don’t care. “No, we can talk now or not at all, ever!” You shout. There is silence on the line, but the call hasn’t dropped. He’s probably muted you. You stop pacing and try listening more intently to no avail. “Hello!” You yell. “Your lack of patience is unsettling.” He comes back on the line. “I don’t care, you don’t just get to spring leaving on me at the last minute after I invited you to my father's birthday party. You promised you would come; said you would meet him. If you flake out on me now, I’ll never talk to you again.” “It’s my mother y/n. She’s asked to see me. I’m sorry but I have to go.” Your eyes widen and you immediately feel stupid. “Is everything alright?” “I honestly don’t know. I won't know until I get there. Look, I am sorry about missing your father’s party. I can make it up to you and to him.” “No, it's ok. Go and do your thing. Maybe one day, I’ll be meeting your mom you know? Who knows right?” Your chuckle meets with silence. “She’s much better company than my father that’s for sure. I gotta go but I'll see you as soon as I get back. Be good for me brat.” “Yoongi,” You begin but he's already hung up.

Min:

Yoongi broods over his packed bag, knowing he shouldn’t really care what y/n thinks but at the same time feeling terrible about letting her down. He did want to spend the weekend with her and meet her father. It was the right thing to do. It was the first time in a long time that he’s ever felt close to someone. He shook his head to tousle his still drying hair, zipping his bag. “Son,” He turns to face his father, “I hear you're going to see your mother.” Yoongi doesn’t answer. His father enters his room and slowly paces, looking over everything with either a shrug or grunt of disapproval. Don’t get angry, that’s what he wants. Yoongi grinds his teeth, repeating this mantra over and over. “Did you need something?” His father stands before him, arms behind his back. “I don’t need many things Yoongi, I have assured myself a comfortable life. The one thing I truly need as a father is the cooperation of his only son. I haven't always been the best father, that I can admit, but I like to think I am fair. Your mother, on the other hand, has always coddled you, made you weak, emotional. It kills me to see you so dependent on her approval, her love, especially when you know who she truly is deep to her core.” He turns to face the window. “Lee An has brought me many new possibilities. A new life, sense of purpose, and love that your mother never could but best of all she has brought me a second chance. A second son. Now having said that, your new brother will be joining us here soon and I expect you to show him around the city, make him comfortable. Booze, clubs, women and spare no expense.” He turns to Yoongi, gripping his shoulder hard, “Am I understood?” “Yes.” Yoongi growls. His father moves his hand up, wrapping it around Yoongi's pale neck and squeezes. “Yes, what?” “Yes, sir.” His father nods in approval. “I can see that fire in your eyes. Your Min blood dying to be freed. It gives me hope son, but before you say something witty or disrespectful, think of your mother and how she wouldn’t enjoy seeing you with bruises on your face.” Yoongi swallows down the angry lump in his throat as his father releases his grip and places a kiss on his forehead. “Have a safe flight son and send your mother my regards.”

Y/N:

“Please Joon, please! Give me something, I know you know more than you’re saying. You yourself have said he’s your best friend.” You sit across from Namjoon in his living room, having mustered up the energy to leave the house once the party planners arrived. “I really can't tell you anything Y/N, I'm sorry. You'll just have to ask him yourself. To be honest, I'm surprised he told you he was going to see her in the first place. He's incredibly private, even I have to drag things out of him at times.” You groan aloud which does nothing more than cause Namjoon to grimace. “Well, he is going to miss Daddy’s birthday so that’s a strike against him.” Namjoon laughs before getting up and walking to his kitchen for a glass of water. He takes a long sip and points over at you. “You're falling for him, aren't you?” Your eyes pop open and you chuckle nervously. “Not at all. I don’t FALL for anyone. He’s just interesting that’s all and you know I love a good challenge.” “Nope. I am not buying it. You haven't been this annoying since....” “DON’T even say his name aloud!” You shout. Namjoon gives you a large sly grin before taking a seat with you again. “Is he coming to you father's birthday bash?” “Absolutely not. I haven't seen or heard from him in over a year and to be honest I would very much like to keep it that way.” “I agree Y/N, I would have it no other way. Besides, Yoongi isn't the type to share his toys.” You scoff at the remark. “What exactly does that mean? No one owns me Namjoon. Wait, does he talk about us? What has he told you?” “Uh, Uh, Uh. How do they say it? Ah yes! Bro code. All I will say is keep your nose clean.” You roll your eyes at his comment. “Fuck you Joon and your bro code.” “See you tomorrow night Y/N.” He calls out to you as you let yourself out.

MIN:

Yoongi stares at the fresh bags that have formed under his eyes. His flight arrived late last night and since sleep seemed to evade him, he had opted to forgo it all together. He instead paced his hotel room, stalking Y/N’s Instagram page until the sun shone through the curtains. He should’ve been brave, sent a text or even called to tell her he missed her and wished she was lying in bed with him. He never did, the twisted voice of his father taking over to frown on such behavior, telling him to be a man, let her come to him. It was the never-ending battle of his mind. Do I give in to the darkness and be everything my father wishes me to be or can I hold onto the light my mother gave me and choose a different path? My own path? One where the two sides co-exist and I can just be me. Yoongi’s mind mulled these thoughts over in his frigid shower, his head down, allowing the water to cascade over his pulsing skull. He dressed quickly in dark jeans and a white button down, slamming a red bull in the cab on his way to his destination. Upon arrival, he looked over the unkempt lawn with a sigh. It was only 7am so he let himself into her home using the spare key she still had hidden under a fake frog on the front steps. He knew that her aide would not yet be there so they would have time alone. He couldn’t wait to see her, he had to know what was so urgent. It had been so long since they’ve seen each other, he needed answers. Yet, in this moment, even with all the anticipation and excitement that had borne itself in his chest, he didn’t have the courage to approach her, so he just stood in the doorframe leading to the backyard and watched as she danced carefreely in the sun.

Y/N:

You wake in a hurry and take off from your room to your fathers, only the sounds of your fluffy slippers shuffling against the hardwood can be heard. You burst through the door and jump on your fathers’ bed, scaring him awake. “Happy birthday Daddy!” You shout as he rubs at his eyes. You stand up and start hopping up and down singing happy birthday. He laughs aloud, “Get down Y/N. You’re going to break my bed.” You hop down onto your knees and hand your father a card and red giftbox. “Open it! Open it!” He rips open the card and reads it to himself with a smile before opening the box. His eyes light up at the sight of a golden Rolex. “Y/N, its too much!” “I saved my stipends and got it for you. I knew you wanted it. I hope you love it Daddy. You must wear it tonight at the party. There will be so many beautiful women there and they have to see how stylish you are.” He sighs. “Its perfect darling, thank you and please don’t worry about my impressing anyone tonight. I am more interested in the impression this Min boy you’ve been seeing makes.” Your heart suddenly drops. “About that, he won’t be able to make it. He had a family emergency but he says he will make it up to you.” You fathers brow furrows, “Is that so? Well, no one lets my daughter down. Tell him while I appreciate the sentiment, it isn’t needed. Besides, this must be divine intervention since I’ve invited a more suitable suitor for you.” “Daddy, he has an emergency. He would be here if he could. I am not interested in any other suitors.” “I know how boys like that think and I will not allow you to be taken advantage of, now I will hear no more of this Min boy. Besides, I thought it was my birthday, come let’s go enjoy breakfast.” Your father shuffles out of bed and heads into his restroom, leaving you feeling defeated.

MIN:

Yoongi’s smile soon fades as his mother abruptly stops dancing. He swallows slowly, removing his hands from his pocket and standing upright. “Wont you come say hello to your mother or are you still frightened of me after all this time?” She turns to face Yoongi and his eyes well with tears at her beauty. He hadn’t realized how much he had forgotten of her looks. “Come now angel, hug me.” She spreads her arms wide. He walks over to her slowly and falls into her embrace, sobbing softly as she pets his head. “Shh, its ok now. Mother has you. When did you change your hair color?” She pulls Yoongi away from her body, looking him over. “Do you hate it?” He asks. “No, I love it, your dark hair made you look too much like your father but this makes you look more like my angel.” He smiles at her response. She pulls Yoongi by the arm and over to sit with her in the shade under a large tree. “How are you angel? It’s been too long. I’ve wanted to write but they won’t tell me where you are now.” “I am good mother. It has been quite an adjustment. Father remarried.” She nods. Yoongi wonders what she’s on or not on as she continuously pets his face, arm, or head. “I heard from grandmother. He married his assistant Lee An, they always enjoyed each other’s company. He used to tell me I was crazy but I wasn’t was I angel? I was right, you see. I know things.” She whispers closely to his face and then breaks out laughing. “Mother, why did you ask to see me?” She stops laughing quickly and looks puzzled, hurt almost. “Didn’t you miss me angel? I missed you so much or have you turned against me like your father? Are you settled in with your new family? Your poor mother left with nothing.” She growls and then gasps before smiling. She goes back to petting Yoongi’s arm. “I have missed you mother but I have questions.” “No! Yoongi! No!” Yoongi and his mother turn to see her aide running towards them. “Alice! Hi! My son is here.” Yoongi’s mother waves at her. Alice comes towards them quickly, out of breath, she leans in and whispers into Yoongi’s ear. “You know you aren’t supposed to be alone with her.”

Y/N:

You’ve texted Yoongi multiple times but have yet to receive a response. He’s been on your mind all morning since you broke the news to your father that he wouldn’t be joining in on this evening festivities. “Morning gorgeous!” Your BFF enters your room. “Hey!” “Hey yourself! What’s with the long face?” “Daddy is not happy about Yoongi not being able to make it tonight. He doesn’t want me seeing him. On top of that I can’t reach him at all. Ugh. I really just want to let him have it but I’m trying to be understanding of his situation.” “And what exactly is his situation Y/N? This is the first you’re even hearing about his mother. He could be lying and out somewhere with his actual girlfriend. Don’t let him fool you with his charm or whatever it is you see in him. Tonight, is all about your dad anyway and having a good time. Screw that silly ole Min boy.” You nod, hearing what your friend was saying but upset that she’s feeding you doubt. What if Yoongi really did lie and was out with some other woman? Could you handle being made a fool again by another man? You lift your phone up and type out a text, ‘If you’re lying about your mom and fucking around with another girl so help me God Min, I’ll do everything in my power to bring you down.' You toss your phone to the side and look over at your BFF who is pretending to ignore you. “Wanna see what I’m wearing tonight?” You ask her. Her eyes light up. “Hell yes! Show me!”

MIN:

Yoongi sits in the living room now with his mother as Alice serves them tea. He feels unsettled as he carefully looks over every detail in her home. Shoes in the kitchen, clothes on the coffee table, and missing photos from the wall all have him fearing the worse. “You said you had questions. Well? Ask them love.” His mother says, settling into the seat next to him, petting him once again. He pulls away from her much to her dismay. “You’ve grown cold Yoongi. Like your father.” “Are you off your meds?” Yoongi snaps. Alice walks in, removing the clothing from the coffee table to make room for tea. “Those pills make me crazy. They fog my brain. I’m better without them but to answer your question, no, I am not off them. It’s a condition of my release. I must take them. Alice here makes sure of that. Don’t you Alice?” Alice places the tea kettle and fixings on the coffee table. She pours Yoongi's mother tea but Yoongi shakes his head when offered. His phone begins buzzing in his pocket. He pulls it out quickly and smirks at the messages from Y/N. “Girlfriend?” His mother begins rubbing his arm. Yoongi swallows hard and puts his phone away. “Yeah, something like that.” “What’s she like?” “Different, good different. I like her.” “That’s so great, angel. What’s her name?” Yoongi grows tired of the back and forth. “Ah! Why am I here mother? Why did you want to see me? Just tell me already.” Her face dropping, she turns away from Yoongi, sipping her tea obnoxiously.

“I lied to you earlier. Grandmother didn’t tell me about your fathers’ marriage. He did, himself. I spoke with your father. He says that you are going through a tough time. He says you’re angry, emotional. He says it’s my fault. I am so sorry for all that I’ve done Yoongi. You must understand how hard things were for me back then. I was sick. I didn’t know what was real or not. Your father hurt me, and I had to hurt him back. You were all that I had to use against him. I am so sorry for that. Your father thought it would be a good idea for me to give you closure. He only wishes to see you grow into the man I know you are capable of becoming.” Yoongi stands now, pacing back and forth, eyeing his mother suspiciously. “What did he offer you?” He spews. She laughs nervously. “Sit down angel. Your pacing is making me nervous.” “WHAT DID HE OFFER YOU?”  He shouts, his body shaking. “15,000 a month if I no longer contact you or see you. He is willing to take care of all my medical needs and the house needs so much work. Don’t you want your mother to be taken care of?” He scoffs. “So, 15,000? Is that all I’m worth? I suppose I shouldn’t be upset though mother, it’s more than the nothing you were originally willing to give my life for isn’t it? I’m not mad, I do want you to be taken care of because I hold more compassion than you or father ever will and he’s right, its time I came into my own. You shouldn’t contact me again, as far as I’m concerned, my mother died years ago.” He turns to walk away. “Yoongi wait,” Although he doesn’t want to, something pulls him to face her, “Don’t misunderstand that night. I was only trying to free you. If you truly care for that girl, leave her be, you’re no good. No matter how hard I tried, you’re rotten just like your father.” His mother’s normally soft features harden, and he can’t help but think about that day. That awful day, she had that same look as she grasped his neck tightly, holding his body underwater in the tub with her own, desperately trying to drown him.

Y/N:

“I want to thank you all for coming to celebrate my amazing father here tonight. Without him I would be nothing, so Daddy I hope your day was everything you imagined, and that tonight is the cherry on top. Yes, that means he’s still single ladies! Happy birthday Daddy! Cheers!” The crowd erupts into laughter and applause, sipping their drinks. You hug your father and he leans in to whisper into your ear, “My esteemed guest has arrived. I hear he is somewhere in the crowd. Go find Namjoon, I’m sure the two are rubbing elbows as we speak.” Your stomach flips suddenly at the thought of some blind date attending the party. You move through the crowd in search of Namjoon. “God this party is fabulous! I love being your friend, have I ever told you that?” Your BFF stops you in your tracks. “Have you seen Joon?” she shakes her head. “You look amazing in that dress girl! The girls are out tonight,” She laughs, “If only that Min boy could see you now. His loss.” She hands you a glass of champagne from a passing waiter that you immediately chug, still looking around for Namjoon. “Something is up, I have this feeling in my gut you know.” “You just need something stronger.” Your friend points out, dragging you to the makeshift bar. “Two double shots of whiskey neat please.” She tells the bartender. She hands one to you after tipping the gentlemen behind the bar. “Cheers!” She shouts before you both swallow your drinks in one hot wave. You breathe out quickly to keep from retching. “There he is!” You make note aloud, leaving your friend at the bar and making your way through the crowd toward the stairs to where you saw Namjoon standing at the banister, overlooking the party. By the time you make it up the stairs however, he’s walked off. “What the?” You say aloud.

“My God, Y/N, I think you are more stunning than the last time I saw you.” Your jaw drops as your ex-boyfriend Jimin approaches you. You scramble to find the words as he looks you up and down. Your skin gooses at the sight of him. He is still as gorgeous as you recall. He stands before you effortlessly handsome. Lips full, hair brushed back and parted, in an all-black suit. “Cat has your tongue huh. How have you been, Jagi? It's been so long since we last spoke or even saw each other. Imagine my surprise when your father called me and invited me to his huge birthday bash. You know I couldn’t resist seeing you right?” “Jimin, I, you can't be here. I don’t want you here.” He smiles wide at your duress. “Oh Jagi, but you're already so excited to see me.” He passes his fingertips along your spine, moving you closer to his body. “People are watching.” You raise your hand up to rest on his chest, keeping him at a distance. “You look so beautiful in this red dress Jagi, hugging every curve, did you wear it just for me?” You can't keep your body from responding to his advances as he rests his hand just above your plump ass. You swallow hard, breathing in his scent, realizing how close you are now. Your entire forearm resting on his chest now. “You hurt me Jimin. We will never, ever, be what we once were. I don’t know what Daddy told you but it's never going to happen. I’ve met someone else, someone more alluring, and honestly I really like him.” You whisper, oh so close to his lips now. He chuckles softly, licking his lips. “Just one kiss then. A sign of peace between us, closure if you will, a chance to seal what once was.” He whispers back, leaning in for the kill. Try as you may, you never could resist him. You hadn't met someone so entrancing until Yoongi and God what would he say if he could see you now? Wrapped in the arms of another man, tongue frantically swirling around his, hands tangled deep in the hairs on the nape of his neck. Could he ever forgive the sight? You know you should stop, rip away but instead you push further into the kiss, allowing him to knead your ass. When you both part you’re out of breath, staring longingly into each other's eyes. “I hope he treats you well Jagi. Better than I ever could. You deserve it.” Jimin trails his fingertips along your spine once again. “Sorry to interrupt,” Namjoon cuts in, placing his hand on your elbow, “We have a problem.”    

Min:

God she’s like heaven served up by the devil himself in that dress. Yoongi thinks to himself. He watches in awe as you confidently give your speech, offering your father away. He had hopped on a private jet back home and arrived with enough time to shower, change, and slip into your father’s birthday bash to surprise you. As he watches you walk off into the crowd, he decides to stalk you quietly, taken by your beauty. He smirks as you look around frantically and he wonders if you can feel his presence, if you could both be at all that connected. As you swallow down your drink at the bar, he follows your line of view to see Namjoon looking down over the crowd. He hums to himself, intrigued as to why you’re so excited to have spotted Namjoon at all. He watches you rush through the crowd and decides to intervene. ‘Miss me? Meet me downstairs by the bar.’ Yoongi watches as Namjoon checks his phone, looking over the crowd again and meeting his gaze. Yoongi waves as Namjoon’s turns and takes the back stairwell down to meet him.

“When did you wander in?” Namjoon asks as he approaches Yoongi. “During the speech. How’s my brat been?” Namjoon shakes his head with a chuckle. “I gotta say, I knew you two were gonna hit it off. There should be some sort of prize on my end for letting you have that room at the Lake house, but if I am being honest, she’s been fishing for information. She wants to know more about the enigmatic Min Yoongi.” “She should get in line with the rest of them.” Yoongi chuckles. “Yeah? Well, I gotta say you’ve surprised me. I didn’t think you’d ever tell her about your mother.” Yoongi shrugs. “I didn’t tell her much honestly. Just that she asked to see me. No big deal.” “Speaking of, how did it go?” Yoongi shakes his head, fiddling with a coaster at the bar. “Sorry to hear that bro. I know you were hoping to get some answers from her but I am sure….” Namjoon’s voice fades away, the sound of Yoongi’s pulse booming in his ears instead. His heart drops in his stomach as his blood runs cold. He lifts a finger in the air, pointing up at the spot where Namjoon once stood. “Who the fuck is that?” Yoongi spews. Namjoon turns around to look at where Yoongi is pointing, his eyes soon shooting open at the sight before him. He looks back to Yoongi who if at all possible, has turned paler, eyes sunken in with a look that could kill. “Um, I think that's Jimin, her uh, ex.” Yoongi’s head snaps quickly to meet Namjoon’s gaze. “Why on earth is she up there kissing her fucking ex?” “I don’t know but you gotta calm down ok. I know what you may think but they have been broken up for like 2 years or something. I’m sure there is an explanation.” Yoongi scoffs at the comment. “Oh, yes. I’m sure she just tripped and he caught her with his lips. Get out of my way.” Yoongi pushes past Namjoon now. “Wait,” Namjoon grasp Yoongi by his coat, causing Yoongi to grip Namjoon by the arms tightly, “Let me talk to her first ok. Maybe you and her can go someplace quiet so as not to cause a scene. It IS her father’s birthday after all.” Yoongi grunts angrily at the ground before releasing Namjoon. “Fine. Go.” Namjoon hurries off, leaving Yoongi's head spinning a million miles a minute.

Y/N:

“What? What’s wrong?” You stare at Namjoon, who looks frantic. “It’s good to see you too Namjoon.” “You shouldn’t be here, scum.” Namjoon snips. “I was invited,” Jimin scoffs, looking over to you, “Jagi, call me anytime. I am always available to you, but it seems I am not wanted. I guess I should be leaving now.” Jimin leans in and kisses you on the cheek before turning towards Namjoon. “It really is good to see you Namjoon. Be well.” “I’m sorry but I don’t share the same sentiment.” Namjoon responds, hardening his face. Jimin nods and walks off. “Joon, that was not what you think ok? I can explain. He just wanted…” “Maybe it’s not what I think but I have to say my piece. What exactly are you playing at? He cheated on you, broke your heart, and left you in shambles. Yet here you are like putty in his hands, giving him everything he wants, ready to serve up the same thing he did to you to Yoongi and I know that Yoongi isn't perfect but he means well and deep down he’s a great guy, better than Jimin ever was to you.” Your heart seizes at Namjoon’s words. “Well, we don’t have to tell Yoongi right now ok? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him right? I know he’s your friend but so am I and I just need time to process everything and then I can talk to him about this. Just give me some time that’s all I ask.” “I’m sorry Y/N but your time is up.” You gulp at his comment. “Joon.” You plead as he steps to the side, still holding your elbow. Your jaw drops and heart races as you look over towards the seating area and see a familiar pale face staring back at you through his laced fingers. “Yoongi. How?” You whisper. “He was trying to surprise you. I suppose the jokes on him huh. Like I said, we have a problem.”

MIN:

Her shocked face says it all. She didn’t feel me here at all. There is no connection. I am the fool, as always. She thought she could get away with it. Yoongi’s mind races, all his insecurities flooding his psyche. She begins to approach him, taking a seat beside him. “We should talk. I know you think you know what you saw but there is so much to unpack there. I had no clue you were here, why didn’t you tell me?” “Would it have made a difference, if you knew or not? Would you have avoided the kiss all together just for my sake?” Yoongi turns to face her now. “Found an empty lounge room. I guess it's for the staff but if you guys need a few minutes to talk, there’s no one in there.” Namjoon informs. Yoongi stands and watches as Y/N gets up as well, turning to follow Namjoon. He can’t help but watch the sway in her hips, angered by the twitch in his dick caused by her skin-tight dress. “Here we are.” Namjoon says as you all reach the destination. Namjoon opens the door, allowing for Y/N and Yoongi to walk in. Yoongi nods at Namjoon and closes the door behind him, sure to lock it. As Yoongi turns, Y/N slides her body up against his. “Please don’t be mad at me baby. It meant nothing to me. He means nothing to me. It was nonsense, closure. You’re the only one for me and I even told him that. You’re all I need.” Yoongi looks over her pleading face, fighting with himself on what to believe. “I can make everything better. Make it up to you. You know I would never hurt you.” Yoongi closes his eyes tightly at her words, swallowing hard as she rubs his growing erection. He hates how his body responds to her. “Are you angry? Please, say something. What are you thinking? Do you want to spank me? Is that it?” Yoongi’s eyes pop open at her question. His body tightening to her ask. He did want to punish her, hear her desperate cries as he turns the flesh of her ass red. Make her swallow his cock down completely just so he can watch the tears swell in her eyes as she gags, drooling on his balls. Deny her every pleasure, allowing only himself the chance to feel it all. She moves in and places her soft lips against his and all he can picture in his head was her in the arms of another man. As she tries to deepen the kiss, anger ignites inside him and he can’t help but shove her back. “On your knees, Brat!” He commands. ‘Fuck the light, fuck trying to be good, where has it gotten me,’ Yoongi thinks to himself, ‘Tonight, she meets the real me.’

Y/N:

“No!” You shout defiantly. You won’t give into Yoongi’s behavior tonight. Normally you would have no trouble doing exactly as he commanded, reveling in his every explicit desire. It always turned you on, how well he tamed you, how in tune he was with your body, but lately something changed in him and he was softer, more romantic, something you had grown to love as well. You wouldn’t give in without a fight or at the very least having explained the situation fully. Yoongi didn’t respond to your defiance, instead he opts to lean against the door and watch you. “I know I fucked up ok. I should have never even allowed Jimin to touch me, let alone kiss me. I swear though, I told him about us. I told him that I really like you Yoongi and I do.” “I’m going to fuck his name right out of your mouth.” You swallow hard at his response, squeezing your thighs together at the feeling of your cunt clench around nothing. “I, I wanted you here with me. Daddy was upset, he called him because he thought that, that…” Your resolve is failing you as you scramble to find your train of thought. “That his whore of a daughter needed to be chock full of someone, anyone’s cock?” Your eyes pop open and you run towards Yoongi, slamming your fist into his chest. “Don’t talk about daddy like that. You know nothing about him.” “I know that I’m the only one you’ll be calling daddy here tonight, brat!” You shove him away from you. “I know you’re angry Yoongi. You have every right to be but please don’t shut me out. I want to be more to you than just some random girl you fuck.” Yoongi chuckles, walking over to you. He slides his fingertips along your jawline. “I wanted that too, but you ruined everything.” “Don’t say that. It was one slip up. It meant nothing. I’m sorry ok.” He nods running his fingertips down your neck and along your exposed cleavage. He takes the tiny red strap of your dress between his fingertips and twirls it before yanking it hard, snapping the fragile fabric. “Such a gorgeous little slut. Tell me, are you going to be a good girl and take everything I give you?” You moan softly, biting your lip, trying not to fall for his wicked charm. “Yoongi, please.”

He hums, drunk on the sound of you begging. He takes you by the waist, squeezing your hips before pulling you into his massive erection. “I promise I’ll be good, if you promise to forgive me.” You grind against him now. “My gorgeous little brat, you forget who’s in control here.” He spins you around quickly, his hands trailing along your breast and down your torso. You know what he needs, how to take control. You press your backside into him and yank up your skirt, before dropping onto your knees on a loveseat in the lounge. He groans from deep within his chest at the sight of you. “Do it. I know you want to.” You urge, crying out as he wastes no time slapping you hard across the ass. “Better keep it down brat, we wouldn’t want daddy to hear, now would we?” He teases, slapping you once again this time harder. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from screaming. Yoongi plants two more heavy palms on your exposed ass, panting heavily with lust each time. Your backside burns against the cool air, but you don’t care you know he needs this; this is how he speaks; this is how he expresses his emotions. “More!” You shout, egging him on, showing him that you could speak his language. You needed him to know that you needed this too and that you could be each other’s escape, if only he would let you in. He yanks your thong down, cupping your drenched sex. “I said more!” You hear him scoff right before he brings his large hand to meet your exposed cunt. The slap creating an illicit sound against your wet lips. It sends shock waves through you. “Fuck!” You yelp whilst Yoongi proceeds to spread your lips open and tease your swollen bud with two fingers. You mewl and grind against him. “God, feels so good. You always know what to do.” You praise just as Yoongi quickly winds back and slaps your cunt once more causing a sharp zap of electricity to shoot through your needy clit. You jump forward at the new feeling, Yoongi grasping your hips and pulling you back onto your knees. He begins once again to tease your clit, uses your juices to rub small circles around it. You hitch your hips back at the feeling, needing more. “More please. I need you inside me.” Yoongi obliges by sliding one measly finger into your soaked cunt. You clench desperately, “Stop teasing.” You plead. “Such a greedy cunt. Look how she gobbles at my finger. So wet, so sweet, begging for more.” Yoongi mocks. He adds another finger and you growl with pleasure at the feeling. You raise your hand up and begin to rub your neglected clit as Yoongi fingers you roughly. “Fuck! I’m so close.” You cry out. “That’s enough.” Yoongi yanks his fingers from inside you, instead slapping your hard once more on the ass. “You fuck!” You cry out. “You don’t cum until I say you do brat.” Yoongi groans, licking a long trail from your clit to your taint before slapping you once more upon your exposed cunt. You cry out once more not sure of how much more you can take. “Yoongi, my God, please. I need you.” You beg him. Yoongi gently rubs his palms over your burning ass and you wince in pain. You wait to see if he'll plant kisses along your backside like normal but instead, he squeezes your cheeks tightly causing you to yelp in pain. He hums in delight before planting himself on the couch, allowing you take in the sight of his cock pressing firmly against his zipper, begging to be freed. He bites his lip seductively watching you yearn over him. “Not until you come suck daddy’s cock.”

MIN:

She’s never looked so fucking needy and desperate to please me. Yoongi thinks to himself as she drops to her knees before him. She licks her lips in anticipation as she unbuttons his pants, freeing his aching cock from its restraint. She slowly strokes him, using his pre-cum to ease the passing of her soft hands along his shaft. He watches her with lust filled eyes as she bites her lip, twisting and twirling her fist around his cock. “Spit on it.” He demands. She swallows nervously making Yoongi smile. He wonders if this is the first time someone has asked her to do this. No matter to him, he was willing to work with her, push her past her limits, tame the needy brat inside her. He passes his thumb gently across her bottom lip before shoving his index and middle finger into the back of her throat causing her to gag. “Good girl. Now, spit on it.” She leans forward and allows her drool to accumulate at her lips before dropping a glob of spit on his reddened tip. Yoongi sucks in a deep breath as he watches her drool make its way down his shaft. He yanks her tits free, sliding down on the couch, he nestles his cock between them. He presses the soft flesh tightly against his throbbing member as he hitches his hips upward, fucking her full breasts. She places her hands over his, mouth opened, watching him through her lashes.

“Does my little slut like it when I fuck her tits?” “Yes.” “Yes, what?” “Yes, sir.” “Tsk, tsk. Not tonight I’m not.” Yoongi grasp her by her hair and yanks her head back licking unabashedly at her neck while tugging at her pointed nipple, eliciting a deep dark moan to escape her. “Yes, what?” “Yes, daddy.” Yoongi smiles against her neck, pulling her head down to meet his drooling cock. “Open wide for me baby.” She does exactly as she's told and Yoongi rewards her with a slow entrance into her mouth rather than the hard one he had planned. He allows her to relax her throat as he finds purchase there, holding her in place by her hair, as his cock throbs against her quaking esophagus. He rolls his head back at the feeling. He looks back down at her as she digs her nails into his thighs. He wonders if he should let her up for air or if she could hold on for a bit longer. She whines slightly and he presses into her further before pulling her up to his tip. She gasps for air and he groans at the sight of her all teary eyed, drool string from her lips to his cock, out of breath. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.” He tells her. “I’m so wet for you daddy. I want you so bad.” He smirks at her response. “Almost, baby, almost.” He hints, running his tip along her lips. She nods opening her mouth. She slides her tongue along the underside of his head, wrapping her lips around the tip fully she suckles at the mushroomed top, working one hand along his shaft and the other massaging his balls. Yoongi moans aloud feeling his body tense as his climax builds. If she keeps this up, he’s going to cum a lot faster than he intends to.

Y/N:

Yoongi abruptly stops you just as you are intensely working his cock. “Up.” He commands. You stand immediately, watching as Yoongi get on his feet, and pushes you onto your knees once more on the couch. He leans in and takes your ear lobe in his mouth, nibbling and tugging at it. “Do you love him?” He asks out of nowhere. “What?” He ignores you and begins kissing down your neck, biting at the sensitive flesh. “Did he kiss you like this?” He grips your hips, trailing his kisses down your back. “Yoongi, don’t do that. You're the only one I want.” You try to reassure him. “Prove it,” He moans, grabbing your sore ass and spreading your cheeks apart. He lands a slap on your already tormented rear end, “Beg me to fuck you. Make it convincing.” “Yoongi....” You start but your protest is only met with another whack across the bum. Your wanting pussy coming alive once again. “Daddy, please won't you fuck me?” You twirl your hips up at him. “No.” He slaps you hard across the ass once more, your juices flowing past your lips. “Fuck! Please, please, fuck me.” “Hmmm. Better, you're getting warmer.” He rubs his fingers along your slit, slapping down against your moistened mound. “Ah! Fuck me Min ok, stop playing games. I’m over this. Just please. I need release.” “Brattier.” He mulls, sticking two fingers deep inside you, igniting your nerve endings. You grip the couch now to keep from wailing at the feeling. “God, Please, it's not enough. I need your cock. Only yours will do. No one fucks like you. Please.” “Good girl.” He praises, shoving the whole of his cock deep within you. Your gasp caught in your throat. Yoongi takes the opportunity to shove his sticky fingers into your gaping mouth and excitedly you clamp down on them, sucking your juices from each one.

He drops his hand from your mouth to your throat, grasping tightly as he begins to drill his cock into you over and over. His moans grow hoarse and more animal like with each thrust as you feel your core burn with your rising climax. “Don't....you...cum!” He growls into your ear, keeping his tortuous pace, your pussy clenching and releasing with burning pleasure. You feel his grip get tighter around your neck as the air begins to restrict, “Yoongi”, You tap his hand to try and warn him of your oncoming climax. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. You vision becomes blurry as Yoongi cries out into the room, his release hitting him like a bus, he unloads his massive seed into you. You tap his hand once more, as you feel his seed create a heavenly slickness as it spills out of you. Yoongi tightens down on your neck once again and immediately releases, dropping his hand to attack your swollen clit as you take your first deep breath. Your body quakes in a way you’ve never felt before as your coil snaps at an unprecedented rate. You screech out, as you squirt your climax all over Yoongi’s balls. Yoongi continues to rub small circles along your bud whilst slowly thrusting in and out of you until you beg him to stop, the feelings of overstimulation too much to bear. Yoongi pulls his now softening member from inside you and you both begin to dress in silence. He hands you a few paper towels from inside the lounges bathroom and you happily take them, cleaning up the mess between your thighs. Yoongi looks down at his crotch, knowing no amount of scrubbing will fix the damage done to his suit pants so he opts to just untuck his dress shirt. “I guess ruining your suits is becoming a habit of mine.” You smile. He doesn’t respond. You walk over to him, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Yoongi I am so sorry about tonight with Ji-, my ex. I know what I did isn't excusable but please know if I could take it back I would. I, God, I’m falling for you. I love you.” You painfully admit. Yoongi winces at your confession, causing your stomach to flip. “Don’t say things you couldn’t possibly understand the meaning of. I don’t take those words lightly and you shouldn't either. I’ve never said those words to anyone, and I don’t think I'll be starting now.” He smooths out his shirt of its wrinkles and you try hard to swallow down the lump in your throat, tears prickling at your eyes. “Yoongi, please, things have been so good.” He nods. “They have been and all it takes is one moment to fuck it all up.” He waves his hands up in defeat. You stop trying and just let your tears fall, hoping they will sway him, chip away at his cold exterior.

MIN:

It kills Yoongi to see her standing before him crying, her mascara running. She looks spent, defeated, lip quivering. It broke his heart to hear her utter the words I love you. He lied when he said he has never told anyone those words. He’s told his mother but what was that for, she only ever loved herself. Deep down inside he knew that he loved this woman before him. She wasn’t just some girl he fucked. His emotions for her ran deep. Their connection immediate, from the moment he saw her face bathed in sunlight on the terrace of Namjoon’s Lake house, he knew he had to have her all to himself. Namjoon warned him of her, that she was breath taking, “A rollercoaster.” was his exact description and he couldn’t have been more accurate. She had made him feel things he hadn't felt in a long time but tonight she made him feel something that he felt every day of his life, betrayal, and that he couldn't have. So, as much as it pained him to shut her out, he had to pull his guard up, his wall was the only thing that truly kept him from breaking. Even as she walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him, crying into his chest, he stood stern in decision. “I’m sorry but I don’t love you.” He whispered, watching her heart break before him, as he wiped away her tears. “Open it!” You both hear from the other side of the door right before it swings open. “What the hell is going on here? Who are you and why they hell are touching my daughter?” Y/N clings to Yoongi’s side. He’s almost proud to have been caught, the thought of her father setting her up with another man causing his anger to surge. “Daddy! Wait, let me explain. This is...” “I don’t give a shit who it is! I am told to investigate the sounds of screaming and what do I find? My daughter in the arms of this heathen? You dishonor me Y/N! Get over here, now!” For a moment Yoongi tugs at you, keeping you at his side, wanting to protect you from your fathers wrath. He knew all too well what you were feeling. “Its not her fault sir.” “Shut up snail! You’re unworthy of my attention nor that of my daughters.” “Daddy stop it.” She defies. “I understand sir. Good thing I’m already done with her.” Yoongi watches as both Y/N and her fathers face drop. He smirks, unbothered, making sure to shove his shoulder into her fathers on the way out of the room. “Wait, Yoongi!” She calls to him but he doesn’t turn around, this time choosing to hold onto the upper hand.

[redhoodssweetheart]

The Thief and the Detective I

Genre: Detective/Thief AU

Relationship: Detective!Jason Todd x Thief!Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes (REQUESTS ARE CLOSED)

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Angst, some fluff, swearing, drinking

Description:  Jason has been tasked with finding a thief known as Shadow.  Little does he know he’s met the thief and has now started a relationship with her.

A/N: I can’t wait to hear your theories about this because I’m having so much fun developing this story.  Like this is a dream fanfic of mine.  Enjoy!

Jason looked up at the nondescript bar before him.  There was a sign above it that read JO’S BAR AND POOL HALL.  It looked seedy and like the type of place that shady deals would go down at.  It was located out on the outskirts of Gotham where it wouldn’t attract a lot of attention from the cops who were more concerned with the more notorious villains running around.

This was where he had been led though in his search for a notorious thief nicknamed Shadow.  There were whispers of her all through the downworld and Jason had followed them here.  This is where his informants in the crime distracted said she may be found doing deals.  He was hoping that he could catch her in the act, gather more info on where she lived, and then arrest her for her crimes.

He made it sound so simple, but in reality, there was going to be a lot of bureaucratic bullshit that he was going to have to go through to get a warrant for her arrest.  Most people didn’t even know what she looked like, hence the nickname Shadow.  Some believed that she had made a deal with the devil himself for her abilities to steal as she did.  Jason didn’t believe in the devil nor did he believe in powers, she was just good at what she did.

Pushing the door to the bar open he stepped inside and looked around.  There were a few patrons situated at the tables nursing their poison of choice.  They merely gave Jason a cursory glance before going back to whatever was occupying their time before he had entered.  Others went back to their game of pool, the balls cracking together as people took their shots.  Behind the bar was a woman, she was wiping down the top with a white rag and she nodded to Jason as he walked over and slid onto a bar stool.

“What can I get you?”  She asked, she wore all black and her lips were painted red.  

“Whiskey, dry,” he told her and she grabbed a glass and began filling it with his drink.  “Interesting place,” he said.  The walls were lined with old concert photos from rock bands long since run their course in the world.  There were also photos of what appeared to be the same man - probably Jo - with possible patrons of the bar.

The woman grinned and passed his drink to him, “We get some interesting characters in here.  Jo - the owner - likes the biker bar feel of the place.  He also likes putting up photos from what he likes to call his golden days.”  She rolled her eyes and slung the towel over her shoulder before leaning forward and resting her forearms on the bar.  “Eighties hair bands and cheap alcohol is Jo’s bread and butter.”

Jason winced at the whiskey when he took a swig of it, cheap was right.  “Then why do people keep coming back?”

The bartender shrugged, “Maybe because most nights its quiet, not a lot of the uppity city folk come around here.  Gotham has a tendency to run places like this out of business so that they can make room for their posh bars and shopping districts.”

She wasn’t wrong with that sentiment.  His adoptive father had been one of those uppity city folk as she had put it.  He had tried to make Gotham a better place, run the criminals out, but in his quest to do that others had been shoved out as well to make room for the high rises and company buildings.  Though Bruce had tried to keep the less fortunate in the city as best he could, but the others in his tax bracket weren’t so kind.

“And why are you working here?”  Jason asked as he swirled the amber liquid around in his glass before looking back up at her.  “Seems like you’d make more money somewhere else.”

The woman leaned forward so close that she and Jason were nearly nose to nose now, there was a hint of a smirk on her face.  “Why the interest in my career choices, blue eyes?”

He blinked, surprised at how close she was, how he could smell her perfume.  “Just general curiosity, trying to get to know the person serving me my drinks a bit better.”  He cleared his throat and leaned away from her, feeling antsy under her intense gaze.  “My name’s Jason by the way.”

“Jason, huh?”  She moved away and began cleaning some glasses.  “Anyone ever tell you that you look suspiciously like the disgraced son of Bruce Wayne?”

Jason stiffened in his seat and his glass paused halfway to his lips, “Maybe.  Why is that going to get me into trouble around here?”

The smirk was back, “Nah, you’re okay.  Bruce Wayne is one of the few good rick people, he’s at least trying to make things better.”  She moved back over to Jason and crooked a finger at him so that he leaned in closer.  He repressed the urge to shiver when he felt her lips brush against his ear as she said, “Though some might not like a cop in the bar.”

He pulled away and said, “Well then it’s a good thing I’m not on duty right now.”

She snorted, “As if that’d make a difference to some of the patrons.”  She moved out from behind the bar and went over to clean a now deserted table.  He watched her, it was just them and two other people.  Jason suddenly seemed to remember why he was here, but there was no sign of Shadow anywhere.

“Can I ask you a few questions?”  He asked hesitantly, he wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or not, but he needed to know some things and if she was here most evenings then maybe she could help him fill in some of the blanks.  She came back over and looked at him and nodded her head.  “Have you heard of the thief Shadow?”

She chuckled, “I think everyone has heard of Shadow at this point, Jason.  She’s always in the news stealing something from some big shot.  Let me guess, you’ve been tasked with hunting her down.  Am I correct?”

“Yes, I got some intel from some of my contacts in Crime Alley that she sometimes makes deals here and that tonight may be one of those nights.  Have you seen anything shady going on?  Maybe a deal of some sort?”

The bartender thought over his questions, but ultimately shook her head, “Sorry, tonight has been slow and I think I would have noticed a deal going down here.  I honestly haven’t noticed anything like that going on here so maybe they’re more discreet than you think.”

Jason had been afraid of that and hung his head, “Damn.  I was hoping I could get a better lead.  My contacts normally have good information for me, but they aren’t always the most reliable.”

“Don’t stress too much, I’ll keep my eyes open for anything major going down,” she promised.

“Thanks,” Jason scrawled his number on a napkin.  “Call or text me with any news you may have.”

She hummed, “Can I call you for anything else?”

“Sure, I mean if you ever need anything at all--”  He paused when he caught on to her meaning.  “Oh you mean--”

She laughed and nodded her head, “You know for a detective you aren’t really that good at picking up clues.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes, “Well I wasn’t expecting to be hit on by you.”

“Really?  I thought I made it pretty clear I was interested,” she shrugged her shoulders.  “Maybe I was being too subtle.”

“Or maybe I really am the world’s worst detective.”  He pulled out some cash and threw it onto the bar top.  “Thanks for your help and conversation.  Maybe I’ll hear from you in a few days.”

“We’ll see,” she said with that sly smile that seemed to get him flustered.  What was it about this woman that had him so nervous.

She watched Jason leave the bar and pulled out her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.  “Y/N, what’s wrong?”  A familiar female voice asked.

“There’s a cop onto me, someone in Crime Alley ratted out where I do my deals.  I could be in danger.”

The person on the other end was quiet for a moment, “Don’t panic yet, let me look into this.  I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you, Y/N.  Trust me.”

“Always,” Y/N responded before hanging up the phone and tried to go back to work and focus on the tasks at hand.

[dat-town]

Busan drift

Characters: racer!Felix & racer!You

Setting : street racing au (all I know is coming from the Fast & Furious franchise so excuse my shitty knowledge about cars and races)

Summary: A new face around the races in your beloved seaside town always means trouble, especially if he’s as cocky and arrogant as that mysterious silver-haired guy seems.

Warning: nothing really apart from good ol’ competitiveness

Words: 4.7k

For the one and only @lily-blue​! Love ya, dear! ♥

There's a smug smile playing on your lips the moment you cross the finish line, tires screeching against the asphalt as you step on the break and take a perfect U-turn to park your car in the middle of the impressed crowd. Adrenalin still rushes through your veins just as the car's engine still rumbles under you and fingers warm against the wheel, you let the satisfying feeling of winning hype you up before opening your door.

"That's my girl!" Chan welcomes you with a proud smile stretching over his lips, big palm patting you on the blade bones in congratulations before anyone else could. You grin at the brunette and reciprocate Changbin's half hug within the circle of your friends and admirers.

"Today's on me," you holler in the air followed by loud cheers and you know you gotta claim your prize for today's race before the sore losers would ruin your fun with their bitterness. A race is a race, there are no rules, so they cannot even call you out on cheating because technically there's nothing you could have done wrong. And well, everybody would laugh at them if they had to turn to such techniques against a girl.

It took you some time and definitely some nerve and thick skin to earn yourself a reputation and a title but by now, the Busan streets are like your playground and everybody who matters in this scene knows your name. You're the first girl who has ever won the local annual street race after all. Of course, you couldn't have done it alone. If it wasn't for your friends then you would have been nowhere near your current place. A lot of things had lead you to where you are now starting from your long friendship with Jisung who was your classmate in middle school. He introduced you to his friends, Changbin and Chan with whom you hit it off quite quickly. The eldest boy already had an interest in cars then and he was the one who taught you the most about how to pick a vehicle apart and then put it together thanks to his accurate technical knowledge. Changbin has been out on the streets for quite a while too, while Jisung mainly deals with the competitions: he gets the info about them, gathers maps about the routes and handles the prize money to make the most out of the cars.

But a bit of celebration never hurts, so you're off to go to your usual favourite place with the nice amount of cash in your hands when somebody steps in front of your and you have to halt your action. Annoyed, you look up at the tall guy in front of you and first, you think he must be one of those racers whom you left behind during the latest race. However, you are quite surprised when you see an unfamiliar face.

Busan might be a big city but the street racing scene isn't so big that you wouldn't know your competitors. It actually makes your job even easier because every driver has their signature type of driving and knowing them enables you to use this knowledge against them without them knowing.

"Impressive race," the stranger comments with a twitch in the corner of his mouth and you're once again taken aback but this time, it's because of the depth of his voice. He spoke up quietly but the deep rumbling resonated through the area.

"Thanks," you hum, not knowing why he has to stand in your way but at least, the guy doesn't waste your time and goes straight to the point:

"I can beat you, though," he claims confidently and he had some guts, you have to give him that but you laugh at his claim nevertheless. Not because you are that full of yourself that you think nobody can be better than you but taken the current circumstances it seems highly unlikely since you know the route well and newbie amateurs aren't competitors to you anyway.

"Ooooh do we have a Seoul boy here?" you raise a brow checking him out from head to toe not too impressed. He has slick, perfectly styled silver hair, showing off his undercut and dangling silver ear piercings. His facial features are defined by his high cheekbones, well-defined eyebrows and jaw as sharp as a knife. His dark eyes are like the night filled with fierce passion instead of stars.

Everybody can tell easily that he didn't belong here. It isn't just the expensive watch on his wrist or his weird dialect but the way he carries himself. There's some arrogance in it, as if he had some kind of privilege over countryside folks like you. But pity for him, whoever treats him as if he was a little prince, nobody here cares. He could have been the son of the president and nobody would have given a shit about his family background. On the Streets, nothing else matters just raw talent and what you have built for yourself. He couldn't just walk in him acting like he owned the place. That's very far from the truth and you take it upon yourself, enlightening him.

"You don't know how things work around here, do you? You can't just challenge someone like that," you tell him firmly and the crowd around you provides the sounds effects, gasping as if the guy just got burnt. He, however, doesn't seem too bothered. He merely raises an eyebrow back at you.

"Why? Are you afraid?" he mocks you, deep voice reminding you of deep waters. You wonder briefly whether it is possible to drown in a voice.

"Of course not," you snort since that's a ridiculous guess. Why would you have been afraid? Statistically he has like 1 to 100 chance to win against you. Busan is a maze made of beach strolls, mountain roads and tricky underpasses. Unlike him, you know these all too well, not used to the straight and wide roads of the capital city. "But I don't have to explain myself to someone who don't know or respect our rules. Educate yourself first." 

You don't do it on purpose but the crowd around you seems to enjoy your remarks. However, the guy doesn't seem to take it to heart. 

"Oh I know you have this open popup competition thing going on," he shrugs nonchalantly speaking so ignorantly talking about how your races are held that it rubs you off the wrong way. Doesn't he get that randomly getting notified of where and when the races are held meant that you have to be ready all the time? 

" I was just wondering whether you were up for an off-competition race. Think of it like a challenge. I will be here same time tomorrow," he said and flashed you a smirk before turning on his heels and leaving the scenes while being watched by numerous baffled eyes including yours.

"So… drinks?" Jisung broke the silence with his hopeful question and everybody seemed to share the sentiment.

Originally, you didn’t want to care about arrogant guys’ any random challenge because you knew that if you agreed to one, then more would come after him and each of them would call you a coward if you turned any down. However, as Changbin reminded you that stranger boy with his ridiculous undercut called you out in front of a crowd, letting everyone know about the time and place, so you could be pretty sure there would be quite an audience there later that day with or even without you. You hated to give in like that, but you pretty much have no choice but to go there and teach that brat a lesson. That things weren’t played like this on your streets.

"Yah yah yah, guys! You won't believe this!" Jisung runs to the garage where you're currently trying to start the engine when Chan, the one working on the gears, tells you, too. Jisung looks dishevelled and a bit panicked, so it should be something important. Keyword is should because he tends to act so dramatic even because of stuff like a slightly burnt toast. 

"What?" you turn towards him, having the urge to ruffle his already messy hair. Since you have a pretty casual brother-sister-like relationship with each guy on your team, it wouldn’t be something weird or out of line. However, you stay in place and turn the keys as Chan taps on the car hood, getting the engine finally fumbling under his handyman hands.

"The guy, you know, from yesterday… I found out who he is!" Jisung tells you all too proudly but he seems to jittery over such information. You guessed he must be a nobody from Seoul thinking car races on the streets of Busan are similar to the ones he had back at home, you even played with the idea, he only knew stuff like a wheel and gears from arcade games. However, when you shoot an uninterested look at Jisung, he whips out his phone and shoves a website into your face with the guy's unimpressed face on it.

He looks somewhat younger in the picture and his hair is wavy blonde instead of the short-cut silver like now but it really is him. That arrogant look in his eyes rubs you off the wrong way just by looking at his image with the description calling him Felix Lee.

"He's a legit car racer! The youngest one in the Australian national team!" Jisung basically shouts and your attention drifts to the headline of the article claiming that the boy abruptly moved to Korea.

Maybe you should be intimidated but you just snort. He acted so almighty just because he used to play with those super expensive toy cars within the set route of an arena? Hah, he would fail badly on the roads, especially if he isn't used to being done dirty by other racers. It wasn't some Formula 1 here, you have no such rules. 

"And? I can still beat his ass," you claimed confidently, knowing your skills. Winning against a newbie in street racing would be easy as a pie. 

"Still, keep it in mind that he isn't as clueless as we thought. He knows cars and is probably good under pressure," Chan a.k.a the voice of reason reminded you. You know that it's important to not underestimate your enemy but you're too annoyed by this prick and his arrogant attitude. 

"Sure, but we know that area better than anyone. I have raced there multiple times, I know the shortcuts and the dangerous turns. There's no way he could do better on first try," you claim fairly sure of yourself and you glance at the time, seeing you have a few more hours until you have to be there, at the bay, behind that warehouse with Hyundai written on its side.

"Don't be like that, guys, no need to get stressed, she will show him how it's done in Busan. He'll get the authentic taste of losing," Changbin speaks up waking from his nap and you grin at him, giving him a high five in gratitude for his support. You know that the others worry for your sake too but you don't need that, there's nothing to be anxious about.

Or so you thought. 

You start to get second thoughts when arriving to the venue you see Lee I Think I'm The Best Felix's car. A beautiful white Toyota Supra 2020. The paint on the sides seems brand new, the red strikes powerful and the smoke effect makes it aesthetic. But too bad, pretty cars are worth nothing if the engine is cheap and weak. But the thing is, you know this car. Or at least the type and you have been meaning to get your hands on one for literal years! It's just super rare and hella expensive. All your savings from competitions wouldn't be enough to get one. And now you're not only annoyed by the guy's behaviour but also envious of him. Huh, such a showoff though. Or rather a coward, you would like to think. Coming to race against you with a car that's being said to have one of the best acceleration speed. Compared to that, your baby is a veteran Nissan, having been used years and fixed up by Chan numerous times. But it's still running on high speed and you're familiar with every little thing, how to drift or how to use your nitro smartly, because of course, you have upgraded it over the years, even hand painted the 4RACHA sign onto its side.

"So… you came," the guy pushes himself away from his car, arms crossed against his chest and you don't like his content, bright smile. He seems genuinely glad to see you and seeing how much the crowd fawns over his fancy car, you're sure he came here to show off. 

"Can't have you think you can just walk into Busan so mighty," you roll your eyes, adding internally: can't have him think you were a coward. 

"Well, you can show me my place then," he chuckles all too amused and you press your lips together disapproving. You don't like how relaxed he is. As if he's already won regardless the result of the race.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna let you know about today's race to keep it fair and unbiased," atall, blonde haired guy from the Streets community walked up to you. Hyunjin is one of the organizers of the weekly and annual events too. They decide the routes, the prizes, the time and they invite everyone involved. They are pretty much the center of the Busan street race competition.

"I will be the one drawing the flag, you will receive the GPS coordinate you have to reach, there's no advised route. We will monitor where you are and see if you reach the point. The first one who makes it back will be the winner. Is it clear?" he asks looking from the new guy to you and when your eyes meet, you see his mouth turn slightly upward.

His smile has gotten you into trouble before and stupidly you still feel that nostalgic fondness towards your ex-boyfriend. It's been a while since you broke up due to the rumours that him giving out info helped you win so many races but you still care about him to a certain extent. You would have liked to stay friends but in this competitive world it's better not to keep too close attachments between organizers and racer. Too many people badmouth those.

"Sure thing," the newbie grins and you just nod. You have already known this after all.

"Alright, then get ready," Hyunjin tells you, a wavy blonde lock falling ahead into his eyes from his manbun. 

You shot one last look at the silver-haired guy and his shining dark orbs before turning on your heels you sit back into your car after receiving encouragement from your friends and some regular viewers.

Sitting behind the wheels you already see the red dot lighting up on your integrated GPS map and already know you will go along the shore to go there instead of across the town. Less distractions and obstacles.

Once Hyunjin and some others you know through the races send the crowd a bit farther, giving the two lined up cars enough space around the starting line. Your ex takes the black flag and white you use for such purposes and stands in front of you, between the black Nissan and the white Toyota. You start your engine, running it, warming it up while he waves the flag above his head. You hear the counting down, the echoes in the back of your mind and when Hyunjin suddenly brings the sign down, you step on the gas, car shooting ahead next to the guy's.

He speeds up quickly too, even getting a meter or two ahead of your car and when you reach a one small alley between two containers, you have no other choice but to step on the break to get behind him and not run into that metal monstrum. But you grin nevertheless because this way, you can watch him take a right turn going into the suburbs not knowing about the tricky little streets and the business of that area around these hours. On the other hand, you take the empty road alongside the beach, going at a high speed already.

It makes you slightly anxious that you don’t see him and don’t know how he’s keeping up but then Changbin basically screams into your earpiece you usually wear during races in case you can get insights from the guys.

“You gotta speed up, honey, because that kid is crazy. He’s going at a breakneck speed even in traffic,” he tells you sounding astonished himself while monitoring the GPS signals of the two cars.

“What the hell,” you murmur under your nose and step on the gas even more, paying extra attention at that 90° turn at the end of the road before you’d end up in the sea. You cannot lose to that arrogant bastard, you tell yourself and pass by a few cars as you got into the port area driving towards the assigned point.

Your Nissan Silvia slides out to the main road just before the white Toyota and your grit your teeth that he’s so freaking close to you. The two of you race towards the crossroad that seems to be the point that the organizers appointed as your first goal. However, going ahead is too big of a detour, so you know that you have the best chance to take a U-turn which is kind of crazy at the speed you’re going. But good for you, your car was basically made for drifting and you’re pretty good at taking well-aimed sharp turns.

So just before reaching the crossroad you keep accelerating, only to take your footing off the gas and you pull the handbrake in when you hear the GPS exclaim that ‘You’ve reached your destination’. The sudden stop makes the back wheels lose grip and you feel the force weight shift, the seatbelt keeping your body still despite the car’s yanking and when you see the road you’ve just taken now you let go off the brakes, stepping onto the gas hard. Leaving nothing but screeching sound and your traces on the concrete behind, you speed up again.

Your heart still beats overdrive when you take a quick look in the rear mirror checking on the guy and you’re quite annoyed to see him not too much behind. He’s keeping up well, you have to admit and you hate that. You’re used to being able to predict the result at this point of a race.

“You’re doing great, just keep that distance between you,” Changbin tries to soothe your nerves, knowing you all too well and you bite your tongue to not make a repost at such a useful advice.

Instead, you take the turn back to the beach but this time, the Australian guy follows you and no matter how hard you try, you can’t get rid of him. The closer you get to the finishing line, the more nervous you get wondering what he’s planning, whether he wants to pull a dirty trick on you but in the end, it’s your car that crosses the line first, his a few meters behind and the most annoying thing is that you aren’t sure he wouldn’t have been able to pass you by if he really tried.

So why? Why did he challenge you only to lose? You just can’t wrap your mind around it.

Maybe that’s why when you walk around with two beers in your hands and you approach him when you spot him in the midst of talking and dancing people at this impromptu party someone’s high quality loudspeakers and the music coming from them causes with the amount of alcohol present.

“Here,” you hold a beer out for him to take. You try to sound nonchalant but you aren’t so sure that you managed to do that based on the look he gives you.

Felix or how the hell he likes to be cold, looks up at you with pure surprise written over his features. He has shred off his black leather jacket since the last time you have seen him get out of his car and in the plain white shirt beneath he looks somewhat softer than before. Or it might be because of his expression as well because there’s nothing arrogant about him as he takes the can from your hand.

“Thanks,” he murmurs in his deep voice although he stares at you so doubtful as if he was expecting for a long scolding or at least a prank pulled on him. You want to laugh at that thought because you really aren’t that scary or intimidating .But okay, maybe you have those deadly glares like Jisung likes to state. (But maybe if he learned not to put your stuff away then you wouldn’t look at him like that.)

You don’t even ask, you just plop down next to the guy, sitting in front of the Toyota and watching the starry night above the Busan beach. He doesn’t ask why you do so when a few hours before you were so keen on proving him wrong and then celebrating with your friends that you indeed did. He doesn’t question you but you can feel his eyes on you even when he speaks up.

“That drift was pretty sick. You almost lost me there for a minute or so.”

He doesn’t say it like ‘wow you are a girl but you can drive’ which would have been kind of offensive but he seems truly impressed by your skills and that feels nice. You being a girl does not limit you in anything and it’s nice to hear others admit it as well. Bad for him, you’re not that good of letting go of your grunge even if it’s that baseless like the one you had against him for being rich show off kid with no talent. Although you would only take back the last part.

“Thanks. You weren’t that bad either, I guess,” you mumble out though and that’s already something from you! Changbin could tell him about it. You’re too competitive to admit something like that so carelessly.

“You guess,” he laughs at that, genuine and carefree. He has a nice laugh. It goes surprisingly high-pitch compared to his deep voice.

He doesn’t seem too stiff or distant, so you decide to break the ice and not beat around the bush. You have always been straightforward in your own way. And maybe that can of beer you have already drowned after the race helps your tongue to get loose too. 

“I heard you were a professional car racer. Why did you stop?” you ask, turning your head towards him, eyeing the pretty freckles over his cheeks and the way those silver strands sometimes get into his forehead. The thought of him messy haired and unstyled makes him younger in your eyes, more like his age. As someone who had been competing on the big screen from the age of sixteen. Like Chan said, that must have been quite the pressure and you wonder whether he ever felt so threatened like you did when he challenged you the day before.

“Oh so you did your research…” The boy turns around you, raising an eyebrow with a smug smile tugging on his lips and you want to smack him because of the teasing in his voice.

“I did not! Don’t get ahead of yourself!” You snort instead, rolling your eyes at him. You really did not, but if he doesn’t believe the truth like this, you won’t waste more time trying to convince him otherwise. Then, your comment is followed by silence and for a minute you think that he wouldn’t answer which you would understand. You’re a stranger after all. But in the end he shrugs, but his voice is sad.

“It’s just the typical sad reason. I don’t need your pity,” he says turning his gaze onto the floow, fingers intertwined in front of him and there’s a certain tenseness in his bones and moves.

“Oh I’m the last person who would pity someone who walked into my playground as if he was about to take it over,” you bite there, a bit playfully though and the racer laughs at that again, ruffling his silver locks casually in the meantime.

“My grandmother fell ill and someone has to be there for her, so I came back to Korea. I love being here though and grandma is the sweetest, I just miss racing,” he tells you in the end, words slurring together from the speed he’s talking but you guess he just wanted to get over with it quickly, like tearing off a plaster.

You can tell that he’s being sincere about his words, both about his love and caree towards his ill grandmother and his craving to race again. You can understand that, missing the feeling of the engine starting up under you, radiating through your body, missing the adrenaline and excitement of drifts and jumps, feeling like you're flying. That’s the only thing you’re really good at and you’re so invested that you don’t know what you would do if suddenly it wasn’t in your life. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. Maybe he’s just the same and he called you out only to feel that rush again. That’s why winning didn’t matter to him.

“You can always come and compete here,” so you tell him, letting him know that he’s welcomed to come back, to join the Streets and before he would think you have become sentimental, you gently tap the hood of the Toyota behind you. “It would be a pity to waste the potential of this beautiful car of yours.”

A soft smile appears on the boy’s face that only widens once he comes up with something equally teasing. 

“You can drive it if you want,” he offers as if he didn’t care about the millions he spent on this car. He really must have grown up in a rich household.

“So generous,” you snort playfully. Although, if he’s being serious then holy shit, really? It would be a dream to drive such a car. 

But the racer just chuckles, not getting offended by your remark. Then, out of blue, he adds: “I’m Felix by the way.”

“I know,” you hum, uninterested. At least you pretended to be seemingly. Once word got around that he came back to Korea, apparently everybody has been talking about him. 

“I never caught your name though,” You raise a brow at that. “Everybody calls you on all sorts of nicknames.”

You let out a chuckle at that, it's true though, you're the girl of the Streets. Obviously not the only one but the best racer of them for sure, so the guys here treat you like their sister. 

“Well, you can always ask. I’m pretty sure my friends would be happy to tell you,” you sigh, knowing your friends all too well. Sure, they wouldn't give out your contacts to every random stranger but Felix seems harmless. You're pretty sure Jisung would accidentally spill your name anyway. 

“Nah. Too easy. I’m considering to ask for another race to earn it,” the silver-haired guy remarks with an elegant raise of his brow and it makes you laugh. He's surprisingly fun to be around if he's willing to go to extremes such as racing to get your name.

“Well, good luck with that,” you snort but without malice this time and clink your can of beer with his for a toast. You barely know him but giving him a chance, you have a good feeling about him with all his giggles. It might be a good start of something new. 

[zoryany]

Whumptober Days 2 & 3

IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY || MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY

“Pick who dies” | Collars | Kidnapped || Manhandled | Forced to Their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

The butt of the blaster connected with the back of his head once again, and Luke tasted blood. Not for the first time, he found his thoughts struggling against the fog that had settled over his mind, panic forcing his heart into overdrive. He was on the ground, kneeling before his captors, and the impact caused him to keel over and land in the dirt. Bound hands had barely stopped him from falling face first into the ground below, but he could feel the sharp bite of the gravel dig into his palms as he braced himself with weak arms.

“Are you an idiot? Answer the question.”

Question? He wasn’t sure he understood much, right now, the drugs still working their way out of his system. He remembered being captured. He remembered being dragged here. He remembered his friends being dragged along as well, screams and shouts and chaos. But he didn’t remember a question.

“I – I’m sorry, I don’t – what question?”

A different sort of pain shot through him this time, a pain that danced across his skin, radiating from his neck down towards the rest of his body. He was convulsing, now, unable to continue supporting his weight and tumbling forward into the dirt after all. The same gravel that had bit into his hands was now grinding against his cheeks. A ragged cry rung through the air, and Luke found himself sympathizing, dimly, with whoever was screaming like that, not realizing it was his own voice that was echoing so loud.

Rough hands grasped at Luke’s hair, tearing his body upwards and his head backwards so his bleary eyes could take in the scene before him. Kneeling, all in a row, was an assortment of beings, some he recognized, some he didn’t. All appeared filthy and pitiful, a sorry sight much like he imagined he looked himself. There was desperation in the eyes of most, defeat in many, and in some… Some bore a defiance that was far more familiar than it had any right to be. The ones wearing defiance were the people he knew best, he was sure, even through the haze that hung heavy over his awareness.

Seeing them – recognizing them – sent a surge through him, and Luke found his awareness perk up just a touch.

“Deaf and an idiot,” another voice scoffed, gruffer and higher pitched than the first. “Really is a good thing we’re here to teach this whelp a lesson before trying to fetch any sort of price for him.”

No… the word price echoed in his head, and he felt a pool of dread gather in his gut. As delirious as he was, there was no doubt who his captors were: slavers. And the people before him were set to be sold off as well.

Gritting his teeth, Luke gathered up as much strength as he could and glared up at his captors, placing as much heat as possible into his expression. All this accomplished was to earn him a condescending smirk and another smack across his cheek.

“Yes, yes, he really is a sorry case,” cooed the first voice. They’d begun circling Luke, clearly not the one still gripping his hair, and he could only catch vague glimpses as they passed in front of him. “I have no idea how someone like this could’ve earned such a significant bounty, but here we are…”

After a few moments of pacing, this particular captor knelt before Luke and offered a toothy grin. They were humanoid, but there was something off about them. Cybernetic enhancements? A different species? He couldn’t quite focus on their specific features, no matter how much of that heat he harnessed, but he knew that, whoever this was, they were not someone he wanted to spend an abundance of time near.

“But perhaps that is not entirely your fault, at the moment.” The gleam in their eyes told Luke that they were fully aware of how dazed and confused he was. “True, you were rather… underwhelming even before we subdued you. But I suppose we should be patient, considering just how addled your mind must be. That particular cocktail we gave you is potent enough to take down a rancor, let alone a wretch like you.”

Harnessing that heat once again, Luke worked to meet the eyes of his captor. They were predominantly green, with a yellowish hue. The pupils were not fully slitted, but neither were they perfectly round. Their features were ambiguous, and he found it hard to get a clear picture of who they could possibly be, but all he knew was that he felt pure, unadulterated anger towards them.

“Go to hell,” he croaked. With all the defiance he had within him, he spit in their face. Feeling satisfied and with his resolve bolstered somewhat, he found a few more words. “What do you want?”

A flash of anger passed through those yellow-green eyes, but it was quickly replaced with a self-satisfied smirk. With a casual swipe, his captor removed the saliva from their face with their sleeve and stepped to the side.

“Y’see the pathetic excuses for people laid out in front of ya?” Anger flared in Luke, but he simply gritted his teeth and bit back his response, nodding stiffly against the grip on his hair. “All folk you wanted to save.” His gaze flickered across them all again, concentrating more on their features, and the pool of dread in the pit of his stomach only grew deeper and heavier. “Too bad you can’t save them all. Cause, see, our transport simply does not have the room for you all. We still get paid for proof of capture, dead or alive, but the journey will end sooner for some of you than for others.”

Panic was beginning to etch itself across the more unfamiliar faces before him. Luke could feel the sentiment reflected in his heart.

“Please…” The word spilled forth unbidden from Luke’s lips. “None of them deserve to die. Or to be captured. Just let them all go. It’s me you want, isn’t it? Just let them go, just take me, and I won’t fight, I promise…”

The pain bloomed once again, briefer this time, but more intense. His head was jerked backwards, and Luke found himself looking up at a very human face, silvery-blue eyes cold as durasteel, bearing an intense dislike for the creature they gazed upon. “He still doesn’t get it, does he, boss?” Long, slender fingers reached to trace across Luke’s neck. “This piece of scum is gonna have to make a decision one way or another, and ain’t nobody getting out of here alive.” Though he felt pressure on his neck, he did not register any sensation on his skin as those fingers continued to drag. And that’s when it hit him – the source of his pain, before, was a collar, set to administer electric shocks, should he disobey.

It took a great deal of self-control to keep from emptying the contents of his stomach right then and there.

What did they want with him? With the others? These didn’t seem like typical bounty hunters or even slavers. There was something far more… sadistic to them that set Luke on edge.

The leader, whoever or whatever they were, met Luke’s gaze again with a sharp-toothed grin. “Ye’ll be comin’ with us regardless, wretch, don’t you worry. And you’re far too valuable to take in dead, so don’t ya go tryin’ to sacrifice yerself. I know that’s how you hero-types operate. But I need yer opinion. See, I just can’t decide who’s gonna be dead weight. One o’ yer Rebellion buddies? Could be a bit more defiant than they’re worth, even if they are skilled. Or maybe one o’ these peasant-type folks. Much more docile, but lacking in skills. So whaddya think… little Jedi?”

His blood turned to ice in his veins, and his eyes flew wide as he gained full awareness of his situation. They knew. Somehow, they knew he had the Force. No wonder they’d called him valuable. (That was stomach churning on its own; comparing his life to others and knowing it was only because he had been born with some talent they lacked made him feel even queasier.) He still didn’t know, fully, how he’d landed himself in this situation, but Luke absolutely didn’t know how he was supposed to get himself out.

Without a miracle – or some very quick thinking he was not capable of summoning at the moment – someone was going to have to suffer because of him.

This realization prominent in his mind, he scanned the faces one last time, eyes finally landing on the familiar features of one of his wingmates, Wedge Antilles. He wore fire in his eyes, a righteous rage against what they were being subjected to, and the heat in that expression was almost enough to make Luke sweat. Wedge’s face slackened when his eyes found Luke, revealing sympathy and care as they exchanged heavy, mournful glances.

In an instant, the fire reignited as Wedge’s gaze flickered from his friend to his captor, and he began to struggle. “Don’t say anything, Luke, they’re just trying to get to you!” He gritted his teeth, a significant look exchanged between them and then – “The bird of prey has already left her nest. You know she always flies true, given the time.”

Bird of prey? Bird of prey… Luke considered that for a moment that felt like an eternity before finally realizing – The Falcon! Of course they’d sent out a distress signal. Han and Chewie (and, maybe, Leia) would know where to find them. There was hope for the lot of them yet. He just had to keep stalling.

Turning his eyes towards the leader, Luke narrowed his eyes. “How do I know,” he croaked, “that you’re telling the truth? About not having enough room? About someone having to die?” He felt the gears in his mind turning so fast he could scarcely keep up, and his mouth seemed to act before his brain could finish processing. “You get more out of taking people alive, you have to, so why wouldn’t you make it work? What is this about? Why are you – ”

The sound of blasterfire cut his words short, and the eyes that had been filled with flames just moments before now stared at him blankly, shock and defiance blending with the unmistakable emptiness that accompanied death.

Wedge was dead.

And…

And it was Luke’s fault.

Perhaps not directly. He hadn’t given the word. He hadn’t pulled the trigger. But they had both been defiant, and now his friend was dead.

The others were crying out in shock, those who dimly registered as fellow Rebels shrieking in outrage, the innocents wailing in horror. Luke was silent. He was in shock. Through everything, he hadn’t expected… this.

“Foolish little Jedi. You have no idea who we are or what we want. Don’t presume to guess. Just know that your fate holds a particular interest to us, and we will see it through. Now, it is time for you to sleep again, and face your new life on the other side. Rest well, little Jedi.”

He didn’t. A bite in his neck pumped him full of drugs once more, and a fitful, restless unconsciousness overtook him. The lifeless expression of his former friend haunted him, the dull eyes still filled with raw emotion burned into his vision, even through his faded awareness. He had no idea what was in store for him, but Luke was certain that this anguish was only the beginning…

[blueluneacy]

Monsters of the Alley

I did it folks. It’s a dedicated sorbet/gelato/reader fic, written by me. I’m supposed to be studying for finals.

I got this idea from @j0succ, so you should check them out! Their blog gave me minor character disease-

It’s a Not SFW Werewolf!Sorbet x Human!Reader x Vampire! Gelato! wow

Words: 3k

Warnings: NOT SFW, implied stalking, predator/prey play, breaking and entering, violence, rough play, biting, bloodplay, SERIOUS dubcon, kidnapping, all around yandere, just a bad time for the reader

You knew that walking alone at night was a bad idea, but what could you do, really? It wasn’t like the world was going to wait around for you, cater to your every need. In a world full of monsters, you knew that it was dangerous to be a human, alone and fragile in the dark, but hey. They say that humans were the most common and that attacks from monsters were actually pretty uncommon, yadda yadda, whatever. It didn’t matter how many warnings you were given, you weren’t the type to listen to you. Maybe it was stubbornness, or just plain need that kept you moving through the dark streets. After all, you had done this probably hundreds of times before. If you stopped working, who knows what would happen. It was well worth the risk. 

So, you kept walking, kept moving through the dark streets in hopes that slipping through an alleyway here or there would get you home faster. While maybe this wasn’t the best idea, you weren’t exactly the type to care. You had pepper spray, after all. Everything would be fine.

That’s what you continued to tell yourself as you walked down the alleyway, ignoring every sound you heard down the street. Because it was always a stray cat in a dumpster, or a drug deal you weren’t about to get in the middle of. It was basic Italian sentiment to mind your own business, and you had at least picked up on that rather well. So when you passed the two men at a corner, you didn’t really give their glances two thoughts, just gripping your purse tighter and walking a bit more quickly. You let them rake their eyes over you, because that’s all you thought they would do. After all, no men would hang out around these parts of Naples unless they were up to no good. When you were a few steps away, you turned back just to see if they were still looking at you, only to find that they had walked away. Good. It was always nice when things were easier for you. Maybe they thought you would get in the way of some meeting or whatever. You didn’t care enough to find out. You just kept walking, taking your usual route home.

And maybe that’s where you should’ve been worried. After all, you took this route home every day, rarely changing your routine. Have you seen those men before? You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn something was familiar about them. Like, the darker haired man’s nose felt quite sharp, or the teeth of the smaller man looked like they almost glistened in the light. You tried to shake the thoughts away as you opened the door to your small, shitty apartment, fumbling with the key a bit in the darkness. This was hell, working late into the night like this. You knew you weren’t going to make yourself anything healthy to eat, so you didn’t even bother to kid yourself anymore. You just swung open the door, pulling off your shoes and practically flinging yourself onto the couch, sinking into the cushions as you already felt your eyes fluttering shit. 

And yet, something wasn’t right. Something didn’t feel right about something in your home, but you didn’t know what it was. You sat up, looking around but you couldn’t find a thing to really put your finger on. A certain uneasiness in your chest, like you could feel yourself being watched. You got up and moved to check if your door was locked, sighing a bit in relief when you saw it was. Good, you were just going crazy. It was much easier for you to accept that you were a lunatic than you were in danger, after all. And yet, when you heard a floorboard creak behind you, you turned in fear, swallowing as you looked over what had to be an illusion.

“So nice of you to lock the door for us, cara.” You heard the smaller man practically snarl to you, but the sound was faint over the sound of the blood pumping in your ears as your breathing picked up. They were… The men from the alleyway? But how did they get here faster than you, and what was the deal with…. You noticed the large teeth and muzzle of the darker haired man, the way his eyes looked over you as if you were just meat, and maybe that’s all you really were to him. Or maybe it was seeing how pale the other man’s skin was in this light, the way you could see him baring his fangs, his tongue drifting over them idly.

Oh god. Not only were these two monsters, but they were the most stereotypical combo to murder you. Your death was totally going to look like a joke. Still you swallowed a bit, trying to show a little bit of strength in this dire moment. 

“G… Get out of my house, and I won’t call the cops.” You snapped back, letting the heavy pause linger in the air. The two of them stared at you, almost shocked at your defiance, before laughing. Well, maybe you should’ve seen that coming. Not only were the both of them stronger than you, but everyone knew that the police would take their time coming here, ready to solve a crime but not stop one. That was the way things were. With the weak being devoured by the strong. 

“I told you, Sorbet. She’s a fighter, wouldn’t it be a lot more fun that way?” The man purred, leaning his head against the taller man, who you could only assume was Sorbet, leaving him to wrap an arm around him, but not take his eyes off of you.

“This should be interesting enough.” Sorbet replied, leaving you to gulp. Fuck it. Fuck it all. It was now or never. You would rather die knowing you gave a proper fight than just let yourself be devoured by these… things. You gripped the doorknob tightly, flinging open the door and bolting out, hoping to get as far away as possible. You had no idea where or how you were going to get there, but it didn’t really matter in the long run, did it? After all, you only got ten meters out the door. 

You yelped as claws dug into your shoulders, grabbing onto you and dragging you back into your apartment. You tried to fight, but it became quickly clear that if you got away from Sorbet’s hold, it would be without your shoulder. You noticed vaguely how the vampire’s nose seemed to flare up as you were thrown to the ground, your head slamming against the shitty hardwood. You groaned, trying to pick yourself up off the ground as you heard the door slam shut, only for a boot to be slammed into your back.

“You look hungry, Gelato. Maybe you should take a bite before we get started?” Sorbet spoke out, but his teasing seemed much more sadistic that Gelato’s. Well, they were both sadistic assholes, but at least Gelato’s words had a light quality to them. Either way, Gelato just leaned down and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“That was quite a cute stunt you pulled, ragazza. We really do look forward to seeing what other tricks you attempt to pull.” He purred. You squirmed in his grasp, but his hold on you was bruising, leaving you just to snarl.

“Do you always play with your food, or am I just special?” You spat back, leaving Gelato to give you a sick smile as he let you go, only from Sorbet to thread his head through your hair and pull you up, his claws digging into your scalp.

“You’re just special, troia.” Sorbet growled into your ear, roughly using his other hand to tear off your clothing as if it were just paper. You gasped and tried to cover yourself, only for Gelato to grab your wrists and pin your against Sorbet’s body, the two of them giving you little room to move. You felt the bulges against you, and you gulped, your eyes widening a bit. Oh god, they weren’t planning to kill you. They were planning to do so much worse. You just squirmed, trying to fight your captors but to no avail. They were both just too strong, enjoying the chase a little too much. Gelato leaned down to your shoulder wound, inhaling sharply before dragging his tongue over it. You gasped at the sting, gritting your teeth as you heard the breathy purr that came from Gelato’s throat. 

“I’d prefer if you didn’t fuck around with the killing me part.” You spat back, trying to kick to get the two of them off of you, only for Sorbet to growl as he dug his nails into you, the pain leaving you to whimper a bit as you were a bit more still for Gelato to suck and lap at the wound. You were certain that it was going to leave a nasty scar at this rate.

“You’re lucky I’m not the one who’s starving, or else you’d be torn to shreds. Be good for my Gelatino, now.” He breathed into your ear, and you could feel how hot his breath was, smell the blood wafting off him in a way that just made your most primal instincts tell you to run, to escape from these predators. And yet, you gasped when you felt the two of them grind against you. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug, and that was the only reason the heat was starting to coil in your belly. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

Gelato finally pulled away from your shoulder with a soft hum, letting go of you to work on tearing off your pants. The two of them really had no care for your clothing, to the point where it was pissing you off. You could at least undress yourself.

“H-Hey, what the hell?! I had to pay for those, you know!” Well, it was easier to bring up smaller concerns in your attempts to be defiant in all of this, doing your best to ignore the hot feelings coiling inside of you as you felt Sorbet wrapping his arms around you as Gelato more tenderly took off your panties.

“You’ve already soaked through, troia. I guess a needy slut like you will do anything for a cock inside of her.” Gelato teased, shoving a finger inside of you. It easily slid in, but you still jumped at the roughness, a bit of fight still in you. It was quickly quelled with a tight grip from Sorbet, his nails drawing blood in a way that made Gelato lick his lips.

“Behave, or I’ll make you.” Sorbet growled, leaving you to whimper and nod just a little bit, Gelato just rolling his eyes a bit. He pulled his finger out, shoving it in your mouth with expectation to suck. With Sorbet’s threat still in the air, you didn’t hesitate to wrap your lips around his finger.

“She’s spread enough. Besides, a slut like that will enjoy the pain anyway, there’s no need.” Gelato complained, not looking at you but up at his boyfriend. You could tell that he was impatient, clearly used to getting what he wanted rather quickly and not wanting to work for it. Sorbet thought for a moment, before leaning in to press a kiss against Gelato’s lips over your shoulder. You never felt like such a third wheel before. 

“I indulge you too much.” Sorbet replied, relenting as he let you go for a moment, leaving you to wobble for a moment as you got your bearings. It might be easier to run from one rather than two, but a sick twisted part of you kind of just wanted to see where this would go. I mean, even if they were two twisted bastards who most certainly would kill you after this, well… This familiarity, you just still couldn’t quite understand what it was.

Almost as quickly he let go though, Sorbet was grabbing you again, dragging you over to the couch and onto his lap. You gasped as you felt your bare back against his chest, the fur that covered his body much more prominent. You gasped as you felt Sorbet’s cock rub up against you, realizing how big it was, and how much you fucked up by not trying to run away.

“W-Wait, it’s too big! It won’t fit, please!” You cried out, only for Sorbet to simply scoff at your pleas.

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.” He growled, giving you no chance to protest before pushing into you with one harsh thrust. You screamed out, tears falling from your eyes as your body tried to adjust to the length inside of you. You gasped and heaved, barely noticing how Gelato was coming closer to you, like a fox towards an injured rabbit. 

“Look how pretty the two of you are together. I feel left out.” Gelato purred, brushing a piece of hair from your face. The tenderness was unnerving, leaving you to fear what exactly he was planning to do next.

“I never said you couldn’t join us.” Sorbet replied, and you craned your head to see a smirk on his face, the same plan forming in both their minds that you were helplessly left out of. It only clicked when you started to feel Gelato rub up against your full entrance, leaving your eyes to widen as you realized exactly what was going on.

“So kind of you to invite me. You don’t mind, do you, carina?” Gelato asked, but his voice was dripping with vitriol, clearly having no intentions to stop no matter what you said. But still, you pleaded.

“W-Wait, please, I’m too full, you can’t, p-please-” You were cut off by your own breathy gasp and Gelato pushed past your limits, thrusting himself inside of you in a way that you didn’t think the human body could actually handle. 

“Such a bad liar, puttana. It’s clear that your body was made for our cocks.” Sorbet growled, allowing you no time to adjust as he started to move, Gelato gladly taking the cue to start fucking into you with vigor. There was nowhere for you to escape, leaving you to groan, grabbing onto Sorbet’s thighs to try and give yourself something to hold onto. Gelato grabbed onto your chest while Sorbet held your hips.

“Do you like this? Like being fucked by the men who’ve been watching you all this time?” Gelato teased, and you whimpered, realizing to yourself that you did like it, quite a lot in fact. Something about the way they were fucking you seemed to scratch some primal itch, leaving you to squeeze down on their cocks heartily, moans and gasping pouring from your open mouth. 

“Che brava coniglia… It’s a good thing we got to you first.” Sorbet huffed into your ear, and god, you could feel him nipping at it lightly, subconsciously tilting your head to give the man more access.

“Any other monster would’ve devoured you by now. But you’re ours, and we like to make sure what’s ours stays right in our sight. You should be grateful.” Gelato’s tone and words were threatening, but you were too far gone to care. The two of them just felt so good inside of you that you could barely put together a coherent thought, leaving you to simply babble.

“P-Please, fuck, Sorbet, g-god, Gelato, please, I’m so so close-” You whined out, trying to buck against the two of them, but Sorbet held you far too tightly. The two of them just seemed to speed up their thrusts into you at your warning, leaning in to the opposite sides of your neck to worry at the flesh.

“Cum for us then, piccola puttana sporca.” Sorbet growled, before the two of them sunk their teeth into the sides of your neck. You moaned out loudly as you came, the waves of ecstasy washing over your body quickly leaving you just to shudder in their grasp before going limp. Lucky enough for you, the way you milked their cocks while you came seemed to be enough to push them over the edge, and you felt the heat of their mixed fluids deep inside of you. It felt so much hotter than you would’ve anticipated. They held onto your neck for a bit, before pulling away and lapping up the blood they drew, taking pleasure in the small winces and whines you gave in return. 

When they finally pulled out, you felt yourself immediately lose balance and collapse in a heap on the floor. That took a lot more out of you than you expected. You looked up drearily at the pair, thinking about how this was it, how they were going to kill you. Well. It was a good run, at least. You can definitely say you went out with a bang. 

But, Sorbet just scooped you up in his arms, carrying you like a sack of potatoes. “W-What? What’s going on, what are you doing?!” You started to squirm, but Sorbet paid it no mind, turning to Gelato.

“See anything you like here?” “Not really. It’s honestly just full of a bunch of knick knack crap. She won’t need any of it anyway.” Gelato replied, leaving you to cry out as you squirmed.

“What, can’t just eat me here?! Got more plans to torture me?!” You spat, but Gelato just smirked, shaking his head.

“Do you really think we’re going to kill you? You really are dense. Maybe we will, later. But I think I want to see how far that pretty little will of yours goes. You don’t mind, do you?” Gelato replied, and god, you had learned to hate that smile on his face. Sorbet just patted you on the back, his tone smooth but ultimately as terrifying.

“Oh, carina. We have so many more plans for you.” 

[onyourzeus]

raining | kyh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: raining pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you  genre: fluff, fictional universe words: 4.4k

was listening to this playlist while writing.  author’s note: overwhelmingly cliche, like kdrama levels of it. be forewarned. i am in my youngk feelings tonight, folks. i just wanted to write something sickeningly cute & i think i achieved it lol. do enjoy, regardless.

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

The moment you step outside the door, you immediately regret it. You were never one to love the cold, you actually welcome it— but when signs of heavy rain are bound to happen within the hour or so it’s not advisable for anyone to enjoy a walk outside. 

You pull on the ends of your sweaters even more, keeping the tips of your fingers enclosed in the warmth of the fabric. A slight yet wintry breeze whispers against your ear and you shiver involuntarily. It was a win-win situation to cover your head with the hoodie as your hair had seen better days before, and it keeps you extra protected from the cold. 

The convenience store was a mere ten to fifteen walk from your street, it shouldn’t be a big deal. So here you are, shuddering in house clothes, trudging your way to the nearest mart to snag yourself a cup of noodles or two, and maybe buy a drink to keep you toasty on the way back. 

Hands tucked in between your sides, you briskly make your way to your destination. At eight in the evening on a weeknight, there seems to be a couple of people enjoying a chilly stroll outside. 

Well, the only difference is that they’re all dressed for the occasion: thick coats, thicker scarves, and an overwhelming sense of excitement for this weather. 

“They better go home soon before it starts to rain,” you mumble under your breath, costing a fog to escape in front of you. It looks nice, though, that they have one or another person accompanying them tonight. Some with hands held tight and others just comfortably walking side by side. 

The sudden chattering of your teeth makes you question your bitter sentiment. You decide not to think about it any further as you approach the blinding lights of the convenience store. 

Pushing the door open with some elbow grease (they really need to replace that), you’re welcomed with a whiff of plastic packaged items, coffee brewing on the side, and the silent hum of cash registers at the front. 

You’re starting to feel the heat of the inside replace your slight shivering, but you ought to keep the hood on and make the trip as fast as possible. 

Walking towards the ramen aisle, your eyes widen at the sheer possibilities of microwavable meals you can have tonight: curry-flavored, spicy seafood, extra hot with three Xs, it’s shameful that you find these all so appealing. 

Before your mouth waters embarrassingly, you grab three cups of your choice and cradle them in one hand securely. Moving over to the chilled section, you check the price of a small container of kimchi to see if you’re lucky enough to spice up your dinner for tonight. 

Unfortunately, you don’t think it fits your budget, recalling that you just grabbed a couple of coins from the counter before leaving the apartment.

Somehow, while being preoccupied by the fact that you can’t have any kimchi, your head collides against someone’s back. In the most awkward encounter that can happen, cups of noodles drop on the floor. Your hoodie falls off your head, revealing the hair you’re trying to keep away from the public. 

With heated cheeks, you apologize profusely to this person’s back, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking!” You don’t even wait for them to turn around as you quickly bend down and grab your items. 

He picks them up before you do. 

You get a glimpse of him in the seconds he’s bent down; his hair parted in the middle with a little curl to them, roots are dark brown but everything else of a faded grey, his thick brown coat nicely shaping his shoulders, and as he slowly stand upright you have a clear view of a black turtleneck that hugs his neck perfectly, and his face—

“No worries, it happens,” he tells you casually, holding onto your dropped items. His eyes are slanted and yet you see gentleness in them. As he gives you a small smile, you notice his high cheekbones protruding from such graceful features. 

The sudden warmth emanating from your thrift-store find sweater makes your face feel like it’s about to erupt from embarrassment. You scramble over to grab your cup of noodles from his grasp, grazing the skin on his hands. Even that sensation felt so soft for such a short period of interaction. 

You do need to go out and see people more. 

“T-thanks,” you manage to blurt out. From all the apparent staring you’ve done in the past minute or so, you find your eyes glued on the floor intensely. 

“Excuse me…” you trail off almost inaudibly, but he gives you space in the aisle you’ve collided so you can stand in line for the register. 

It felt like an eternity being face to face with him as people have formed a queue to pay already, but you will yourself not to look back. It was a… lucky accident? 

If you can call it that— you still look like you haven’t unearthed yourself from your hermit cave for months. And him— well, to put it frankly, he just looked unreal to be sauntering his way at a local convenience store. 

You shake your head, quickly pull up your hoodie once again and tighten the straps a little bit more forcefully this time. 

It’s hard to hide the shame, but at least your hair will be out of sight again.

Impatiently, you tap your foot with the sound of the clock on the wall. Some problem of some kind with the scanner up front was causing the line to lag, and not to say so first-world problem-haver, but the less time you spend in here, the more time you can scream into your pillow back home. 

A stretch of the neck, you look up, down, and side to side. On your left, your eyes catch something too familiar. 

Something in the universe is clearly toying with you because as soon as you crane your head just a tad bit further, you find the same gorgeous man standing behind you. He’s looking somewhere else, eyes pointed in the distance and his lips pursed together in thought. 

Why. Is He. So. Cute. Just standing there like that?

“Hi,” you see his lips move, voice low but friendly. “Your ramen alright there?” 

“Me?” you squeak out. His eyes train themselves on you, and for a second he looks just as confused. But he comes back with a short laugh, and you feel like shrinking into dust. 

But it doesn’t sound like he’s laughing at you, it wasn’t mean or said with a grimace at all. 

He nods his head confirming your silly question and adds, “Yes, the ones you’re holding onto for dear life in there.” 

“These?” you ask again, like a complete dysfunctional human machine. “Oh, um— yeah. They’re fine. Hahaha,” you reply and you sound nervous. 

You shouldn’t be, he’s asking a legitimate question and you’re making it out to be like an interrogation! Snap out of it, reprimanding yourself in the head. This is not how you talk to people at all. 

“Good.” He continues smiling at you, but his eyes shift elsewhere. Well, that’s probably your cue to stop this uncomfortable situation for yourself, and for his good as well. 

But he’s still talking, and addressing you it seems. 

“I think it’s your turn.” 

“Hi, I can take your stuff right here, miss.” 

“Yes, please! Thanks,” you hurry off to the front, out of breath and out of words left to speak. 

There was no point to keep looking back, you’ve done your part acting the way you did. Maybe you should have just waited until tomorrow to get groceries, you would have benefitted from sleeping in earlier than showcasing how clumsy you can be to a complete stranger. (Not to mention someone your type.)

The employee speedily checks out your items and puts them in a paper bag. She asks if there was anything else you’d like, and you contemplate on the hot coffee that you wanted. You pull out the coins and one lone paper bill you had in your pockets to assess if it’s within your budget. 

“Is this enough for what I got?” you lay out your change and then some on the counter. It may be your imagination, but it feels like the guy behind you is watching. You shift to the side slightly to hide the fact that you’re paying with coins. 

She glances at your choice of payment, and says words that could literally be the cause of your death tonight. “I’m sorry, do you have an extra fifty cents? These would only pay for three of your cup noodles, miss.” 

Robbed of one, already cheap choice of dinner tonight, her voice seemed to increase in volume revealing your insufficient amount of cash on hand to everyone in the store. 

She watches as you blink your eyes tight, face squirming hard. 

“It’s okay… I’ll just get those that I can pay for,” you respond meekly, and she nods. You don’t hear anything else anymore, maybe she was offering a coupon or whatever, you had one mission and one thing in mind only: get the hell out of there. 

You take the paper bag, bow your head in thanks, and head out the door faster than you can realize that the rain had started pouring hard for what seemed like a few minutes prior. 

Now your sweater is drenched, your paper bag is starting to crumble from the bottom, and you didn’t bring an umbrella.

Nor do you have any money or phone with you to call a cab to your apartment. 

In an effort to keep some parts of you not wet, you keep to yourself just barely outside of the store where the roof is still hanging; just enough to cover half of your body from the pouring rain. It’s amazing, you think, what absolute god must you have angered for you to be stuck in something so stupid like this? 

You can’t go back in the store, the guy is still there— suddenly you realize with a panic in your heart. He’ll see you here, right next to the door, waiting for the rain to stop once he exits out of the store. 

Either way, he’ll recognize you, and to pity you or laugh at you secretly, it’s his choice now. It’s his right to, you wouldn’t care anymore. 

Let the clown music reverberate in your ears, it’s an anthem you’d proudly sing amidst pouring rain.

With your thoughts seeming to come to life for the nth time, the door opens with an annoying chime, and as you look up it’s him, of course, it’s him. 

But he’s not laughing nor does it look like he’s just going to avoid your sorry figure. He stands next to you, opens up his black umbrella at an arm’s reach and puts it over both your heads. His shoulders touch your wet sweater, and you’re inclined to move away but the umbrella can only cover a tiny area. 

You hold in a breath, afraid when you exhale he’d see panic written all over your face. 

“You okay?” 

You nod, keeping your gaze forward, into the dim surroundings and the pitter patter of the night sky. 

“Do you have any means of going home?” He asks again, and you’re sure he’s looking at you. 

“I was planning on walking…” you finally quip, quiet and unsure of yourself. “Once the rain stops,” you let out a shaky breath. Frankly, you feel more stressed out than nervous at this point. 

He doesn’t strike you as a man with malicious intent so far, and if he were to rob you right here right now, well — he should know, of all people in this store (aside from the cashier) that there’s nothing of value with you at the moment. You’re basically of no value as far as you can tell. 

Sad.

“It doesn’t look like it’s stopping anytime soon,” he says, and you take a quick peek at him. He scans the surroundings, eyes focused and eyebrows knitted together. He looks back at you, and you’re frozen in place. 

“Let me call a cab for you,” he tells you with concern. 

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” you say frantically, dismissing him with one hand. The other was still holding the wet paper bag against your chest, and you feel it dampening your sweater each second that passes by. “I can just wait it out in the store.”

He continues to look at you as he pouts, and you stand there next to him feeling small. You appreciate his kindness, really, but you know a guy dressed like that has better places to be at and you’re here slowing him down. 

“Honestly, it’s okay,” you try and ease his worries, but he doesn’t look convinced. “I live, like, fifteen minutes away. I have nothing else to do at home, so there’s no reason for me to be back so soon.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” you urge on, smiling at his politeness. “Besides, I don’t want to keep you here. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.” 

“Nonsense. It should be the rain apologizing to us,” he says with a tsk. 

You can’t help but giggle at his silly remark. He’s handling this stress-free while you haven’t stopped sweating since he stood beside you with the umbrella. 

“How about this, I give you my umbrella—” you start to protest but he puts a finger up, coaxing you to bite your lip to keep it shut. “— so that you can walk home without getting rained on too much, and I’ll call myself a cab.” 

It was a tempting offer, but not quite reasonable to you yet. 

It’s the generosity he’s offering which shouldn’t be too much of a surprise, in fact, you should feel relieved. But your guard is still up, even if the rain isn’t letting up itself anytime soon. 

If you keep declining him, who knows how much more patience he has to appease your feigning grandiose modesty? 

“I’d pay for your cab if I had money with me right now,” you admit shyly. “Unless you’re comfortable with an online transfer, I’d have to know your information...” It was a stretch because maybe at that point you’d learn of his name, but you didn’t want to go too far. 

“Don’t worry about me for a moment. You can take my umbrella, and I can take a cab. We get home safely, with one of us less drenched unfortunately, but everything will work out in the end. Deal?” His proposition sounds so firm and settled that you had no reason to deny him anymore. 

So you relent, much to your own benefit, too. “Fine.” 

He chuckles at your unintentional curt response. You correct yourself, “I mean— thank you, for the umbrella. Sorry, I was just stupid to go out without one, knowing it was gonna rain sooner than later.” 

“Happens to the best of us,” he chuckles again while pulling something out of his own paper bag. You recognize it immediately, the cup noodles you had to let go of. 

“Oh, you shouldn’t have—” 

“There you go again, rejecting what I’m putting down here,” he chastises. “It would be a shame if,” he looks at the label before continuing, “Savory Shiitake Soup was left out unwillingly with his other cup noodle pals.” 

You stop yourself from internally cringing at how he read it so slowly, as if he’s never had cup ramen in his life. You’d believe it, too, but then again he’s the one parading his sophisticated looks in a local store at a random town. 

“I stick to the basic kinds,” he explains, seeing the meek surprise on your face. 

It is almost twenty degrees out yet your body temperature is steaming hot. You admit defeat (to yourself) and open up the paper bag so he can put the cup inside. Secretly, you’re thankful the whole gang is in there which makes your stomach grumble all of a sudden. And he hears it. 

“I take it, it's almost dinnertime,” he points out. 

“Shut up,” you say, lips pouting. To a stranger. 

He laughs at the bluntness. “It’s the perfect meal for a weather like this. If you have any eggs at home, I recommend cracking one in right before you eat it.” 

“Yes!” You exclaim loudly, eyes shining with interest.

You’ve always done that with your ramen, albeit you hear of some people’s disgust over such a technique. 

“I do have eggs at home, thank god, but I can’t believe you do it that way too,” you disclose. It makes the soup eggy and more creamy, what can you say? 

“I add a drop of chili oil for added spice on mine, that really seals the deal for me,” you continue, feeling a little less uptight being next to him. However, the moment you uttered those words, his face grimaces for a second as he gulps and nods absently at you. 

“You’re not a spicy guy yourself?” It comes out before you register what those words could mean otherwise. 

He doesn’t catch it or at least, he doesn’t mind. He laughs again, and the gleeful contrast of his voice to the harsh rain is somewhat giving you warmth inside. 

(And not the sweaty kind.)

“Not in regards to food, sadly no,” he says. “My friends tolerate it better than I do, so whenever I have the chance to cook for them I have to separate their portions if the recipe called for some kick to it.” 

“You cook?”

“I try to,” he implies sheepishly, cheekbones turning up with the way he grins. It was endearing, watching him explain how it’s become a hobby of his for the past few months and that his roommates have benefited as a result. 

All the food talk continues to make you hungrier, but the way he shares personal stories all of a sudden is a delightful experience for you. His eyes glint animatedly when he recalls the time when two of his friends fought over leftover bulgogi, in which he had no choice but to make some more. At two in the morning.

You listen intently, and laugh when he reaches the punchline and prideful banter about the people he seemed to deeply care about. It didn’t even matter how hard hitting the rain felt against the ground, you were actually covered quite expansively by the umbrella. 

In return, you quickly notice that the side of his coat has been drenched all this time. Instinctively, you pull at the sleeve of his clothing, surprising him by the movement as you butt heads for a moment. It wasn’t hard, but it definitely paused the natural flow of conversation you two were having. 

“You’ve had the umbrella mostly on me this whole time,” you chide almost regretting doing so, “Sorry.” 

“It’s just clothes,” he chuckles upon realizing what just happened, but afterwards his smile returns. “Thanks for looking out for me, though.” 

You feel yourself smiling too wide from that comment. 

You think of something to say before you get too comfortable with this feeling, and then you remember: “You haven’t booked your way home yet.” 

“Oh! You’re right,” he says a little too quickly, and you feel a twinge of disappointment weighting in your stomach at how fast he reacted to that. 

Of course, at the end of the day, he’s just stuck with you due to some unlucky situation you found yourself in. He’s just doing you a favor. 

He checks his phone for a few minutes, the light illuminating on his face. You notice the hard lines of his jaw and the curvature of his nose a bit more definitely now, and it’s amazing how one person can look like that. 

This time, you reprimand yourself from staring too much and so you watch the people passing by again. Hand in hand, raincoats and umbrellas in their grasp as they fight against the current of the rain. 

“Okay, I just finished booking it on the app. It says it should arrive in less than five minutes,” he brings you out of your reverie. 

“That’s great to hear,” you say with as much enthusiasm as you can. You eye the handle of the umbrella in which his hand has been gripping all this time. You know you’re soon to be left with it, alone, as he rides the cab and finally part ways with you. 

“I can keep holding on to this until it gets here,” he says, almost reading your mind. “I hope it is of good use to you tonight, and in the near future.” 

“I’ll keep it safe and useful, of course,” you say, feeling the pit of your stomach get heavier and heavier. You’re not sure what it is, or you’re probably in denial. You start to count the seconds in your head, imagining how to tell him goodbye and perhaps… never seeing him again. 

You don’t even know his name. 

“I’m Younghyun— before I forget,” yet again, he hears the pleas in your mind and you ought to keep the thoughts silent as he suspiciously introduces himself. 

“I’ve been exposing my friends’ and their ways of borderline gluttony to you, I haven’t even given you my name yet.” 

Younghyun, you repeat in your head. Your lips curl upward at the sound of his name, it suits him well. 

“Do you mind if I can get yours as well?” It was a polite question, nothing out of the ordinary of two people meeting each other for the first time. 

But Younghyun seemed to have other, further plans from that. His phone is still on, and it’s facing in your direction. Looking down, you see that he has an unfilled out contact information on the screen. 

“Oh,” you mumble out loud, not wanting for it to sound too pleasantly surprised. He takes it the other way, however, as he tries to retract his phone. “Sorry, I thought— I just wanted to know if you got home safely and—”

“No, please! It’s okay. I’d— um, I don’t have my phone on me right now but I can text my number if that’s alright with you,” you explain quickly before he can put it back in his pocket.

With an openly relieved expression, Younghyun changes the app to his messages and gives you his phone. You type in something easy to recognize in addition to your name on it, and send it to your number. Right as you give it back to him, a car with its headlights on park upfront, beaming the two of you with its brightness. 

“I guess that’s my ride,” Younghyun hesitates. “I know it seems odd, but I really enjoyed talking to you despite…,” he finishes by looking at the puddle forming underneath where you both stand. You agree with a hearty laugh, the uneasiness you feel inside dissipating. 

“Thank you, for the umbrella. And my cheap shiitake noodles,” you humor him, but your words are laced with sincerity. 

He hands you the umbrella, enclosing his fingers over yours as you grip onto the handle tightly. His hand is just the right temperature, cozy and warm. It immediately sends your head reeling. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to share the ride with me? I think I’ve proven enough to you that I’m just a beginner in the kitchen, and not an evil person,” Younghyun suggests. You nudge him just enough to tip him over the edge, playful and amicable on your end. 

“I’ll text you, I promise. Is that good enough for you, Younghyun?” With the sound of his name coming from you, lips widen in the most cheerful grin he’s shared to you today. 

If you’re being really honest with yourself, you feel a little special.

“You better stay true to your words.” 

“Go home, Younghyun!” 

You watch his ride pull out of the parking lot, and drive into the night. It’s funny because the rain went from hazardous conditions to gentle whispers of droplets which makes walking back home easier for you, probably even without an umbrella. 

But you hold onto it tight, knowing that Younghyun had his hands on the same spot makes you squeal like a teenage girl on the way home. You walk faster than normal, pools of water on the pavement splashing at the ends of your sweatpants. It’s disgusting, you most likely need to change completely, but it was far from your concern. 

You get home and head straight for your bed where your phone was, disregarding the drenched clothes you have on dripping on the sheets. 

The text from Younghyun’s number came through, and inspecting further he texts you two more times. 

You giggle, finally letting out giddy feelings where no one can judge you. You text him back. 

And you think that’s the end for today, and you think of things to say for tomorrow that wouldn’t make you seem like you’re overstepping it. But your phone vibrates in your hand, and your eyes stare at his quick response. 

Your heart pounds in your chest; it’s heavy, weighing down on you but for completely different reasons. 

You plop down on your bed head first, pillow against your cheek. You actually do it, you scream. Not of what you thought you’d be doing, but the complete opposite. 

Before you pass out in excitement, you manage a reply. 

You do end up staying up late at night, eating your well deserved hot cup of noodles. But the laptop isn’t on, and you decide you can catch up on shows some other time. 

You and Younghyun text the night away, it’s not awkward anymore. You feel yourself easing up to his banter through messages and gifs which you try to one up him every so often. 

The rain had stopped sometime in the night, and instead your heart continued to pound heavily in your chest. It was exhilarating, to say the least, but you welcomed the feeling of having something to look forward to. 

You remind yourself to not only do groceries tomorrow, but also do your laundry. (You never got to change into something more dry that night.)