#coffee manufacturers across

[whirlybirbs]

— NOISE COMPLAINT ; eijiro kirishima ; 切島

summary: red riot feels really bad about absolutely wrecking the shit out of your treasured plants, or eijiro kirishima falls in love at first sight. pairing: f!reader / pro hero!red riot word count: 3.7k tags: mutual pining, fluff/comfort, humor, very gentlemanly make-out, reader is a fan of red riot, mention of ingenium thirst (truth) a/n: kiri might be a twenty-seven year old pro hero in this fic but he is an absolute lovesick virgin who gets all his romantic cues from k-dramas. you cannot force me to think otherwise.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

The television, low and quiet, drones on as a deep-dive video on terrariums plays. Your apartment is clean — dishes done, laundry folded and trash taken out. There's a new candle burning on the coffee table, and a Dynamight-themed, cucumber-melon eye mask plastered to your delightedly thoughtless expression.

It's supposed to be good for dark circles. It kinda burns. You wonder if maybe that's, like, part of the gimmick. Y'know. Burns. Dynamight. 

Whatever.

No thoughts. Only the pleasure of turning everything off — brain included — for a perfect Friday night, complete with a mediocre glass of wine and no pants. 

The oversized Red Riot t-shirt clinging to your frame is your favorite. You've had it since college — it's a simple red tee with REAL MEN RIOT blazoned across the front, complete with your favorite hero popping a cheeky, shark-like grin and a double bicep. It's faded, stretched out, and broken in but it's also clean, and it smells like fabric softener and comfort.

This is the life. 

Even Twitter is decidedly pretty calm tonight. 

You're scrolling through your timeline, snickering at your friends' recent thirst tweets over Ingenium's recent GQ Japan shoot when it starts.

Apparently, your upstairs neighbors are home.

You thought those guys were out of town for the week. 

You've had beautiful, silent bliss for too long. The buck stops tonight, you suppose.

There's a shout overhead, then a scramble. Another voice joins the fray, and you swear you hear someone call someone else an idiot. You frown deeply as your eyes trail upwards. You wait, expecting more noise, but unsettling silence follows.

Your eye twitches.

Annoyance tips into a simmering rage.

The apartment complex is old. It's in decent shape, and the rent isn't half bad, but the walls are thin. Your upstairs neighbors have been like this as long as you can remember: shouting, stomping, fighting... Some nights it's like being subjected to musical chairs, modern contemporary tap dance, and experimental sound drum solos all at once. 

Your first week was the worst. You dragged yourself up the back to knock on their door and politely negotiate some silence — but the man who opened the door was less than pleased to have his little dude-bro circle-jerk interrupted. He told you to fuck off, get bent, and leave him the fuck alone. 

Then, before he slammed the door in your face, he procured the sort of audacity only assholes possessed and laughed at your Red Riot shirt — which is just plain unforgivable, frankly. 

"That guy's a fuckin' pussy." 

Sure, sure, sure, right, right, right.

The interaction told you everything you needed to know about the two (or four?) men who lived upstairs. They were losers. And they were fuckin' annoying. 

And, as it turns out, manufacturing bad batches of Trigger. 

You don't know that yet, but truth be told it isn't exactly shocking.

Maybe it's your fault for picking an apartment complex in this part of Tokyo. This part of Arawaka Ward is rarely found on those top-ten-neighborhoods-for-young-professionals lists, but it's affordable! And for day laborers like you, it worked. And hey, in recent months, the crime rate has gone down at least 5% — which only quelled the anxieties of your mom and dad by about the same percentage. 

The candle on the coffee table flickers, and you're about to turn back to your slow Twitter feed when there's another bang upstairs — this one admittedly loud enough to send a wave through your wine beside you. You slip your eyes slowly to the glass, perched on a coaster, as another bang rattles your apartment. You reach to still the vibrating glass on the side table. 

That's when the shouting really starts.

And it's when you notice the growing brightness of red and blue lights outside the window.

The apartment complex is pretty big. There are about sixty residents and six floors. You lucked out and managed to snagone of the last available Western-facing studios with a balcony — which made for a perfect plant haven. 

It was a recent hobby, but one that quickly became your calm after the chaos of the day-to-day. Working for the city's Heroics Response Department left you picking up the physical pieces (literally) of a lot of lives. Your quirk might be the usual, run-of-the-mill strength-based ability, but it comes in handy in the aftermath of property damage due to — what the Nation's Safety Commission has labeled — "villain-aggressed encounters". 

All in all, it's a good gig. It's physically demanding but rewarding. The pay is good, you've got union benefits, and you even have a per-diem schedule. It keeps you busy, and though it's not your father's construction business, it's a career path your parents are proud of. 

The slice-of-heaven balcony is bustling with plants. Some are happier than others, sure, but it's pretty. You've admittedlyformed an emotional bond with those vines, leaves, and flowers. 

It's perfect.

It's also perfect for snooping whenever things like this go down in your complex, or the sister complex across the parking lot. 

The shouting match upstairs is escalating, and you take the moment to tip-toe towards your balcony door to peek outside. It looks like two or three police cruisers have pulled up outside. Maybe someone called for a noise complaint? Maybe the property manager was tired of dealing with those losers?

Cackling to yourself, and hoping for a vindicating show of revenge (NO ONE CALLS RED RIOT A PUSSY), you yank open your balcony door and slip outside just as the sound of a pot crashing meets your ears.

Then:

"Shit, shit, shit—"

There's someone on the balcony. That someone's boot is currently stuck in an empty terracotta pot you were saving for spring. Your eyes are wide as you watch the shadow leap to his other foot, lose his balance, and unceremoniously knock over your entire, six-foot-tall, and well-treasured plant stand. You slap a hand over your mouth mid-shriek, hands flying to try and save whatever you can. 

You fail.

Eijiro Kirishima freezes.

What the fu—

It takes a second.

Like, a full second. Maybe even two. Your brain can't make sense of the sight before you. Neither can his, really. 

There's a girl on this balcony. A pretty girl. Like, mega pretty. Like soft and warm and cute and you smell kinda like vanilla — and there's... You're wearing his merch. His merch and... nothing else. Nothing else but a Dynamight eye mask and a pair of fluffy socks. 

...Is this what it's like to fall in love at first sight?

Shit.

Red Riot is on your balcony.

The Red Riot.

Red Riot, the hero in question, catches himself staring. His wide eyes openly wander over your figure (woah, okay, hello thighs), and the second he realizes it, he quickly snaps his eyes up to your face with a mortified expression. "Uh... hi!"

"...Hi...?"

Your expression is tied between shame, fear, and sheepishness as you blink once at him, then twice at the mess of your hobby's destruction. There's dirt everywhere, a plant stand blocking the doorway, and carnage. Your precious babies have been murdered. 

By Red Riot.

And... Red Riot is on your balcony. 

You repeat: Red Riot is on your balcony. 

Abort mission, abort mission.

Your lips part, your mouth hangs open, and every single thought in your head seems to stutter. Kirishima winces as you look down dejectedly at your plants (or, what remains) before he speaks.

"I, uh— is it cool if I..." he points upwards, "Use your balcony?" 

You're speechless.

You draw your mouth shut and nod hurriedly.

"Thanks," he grins, giving you a thumbs up — and a smile. A toothy, cute, nervous smile, "Lemme just... I gotta handle something. B-But, I'll be back. I'll help fix this mess — just... five minutes, okay?"

It hits you suddenly that his voice sounds different from all those interviews you've watched. It's a little warmer, a little raspier, a little less heroic. It's cute. 

Your brain is still having a hard time connecting the words coming out of his mouth to the scene before you — like, yes frontal lobe, this is real. This is happening.

Red Riot is real and Red Riot is on your balcony. 

He's shockingly gentle when he finally frees his boot from your terracotta pot, setting it down with purposeful delicacy — he even whispers 'please stay' as he props it upright — and then steps back to eye the balcony above yours like an athlete remembering a gameplan. 

He's trying to figure out the best way up. 

How he even got up here is news to you. 

(It was Uravity, as it turns out. They've been patrolling together more in this Ward.)

Red Riot is huge. Like, huge. 

Broad shoulders, rippling biceps, and long, fluffy crimson hair. It's daunting to realize how tall he is in person. The guy is a beast — everyone knows it — but his chivalrous nature is that thing that usually draws in his fans. It's no secret that Red Riot is sweet. He openly champions the need to be a good role model for men everywhere. Y'know, you can be strong and nice!

A sharp canine glints in your apartment's light as he pokes his tongue out and thinks for a second. 

Then, he settles on his plan. 

"You might wanna head inside," Red Riot says as he rolls his shoulders and bounces on the balls of his feet; he's readying up for a fight — and you blink as the beautiful realization dawns on you, "This could get kinda loud."

Loud?

Oh my god.

Is he here for your upstairs neighbors?

Oh my god, he is. 

Your jaw falls open as you bark out a laugh — it's an incredulous rasp that sends you into a spiral of joy; you're not a vengeful person by any means but...

"They're gonna shit themselves," you grin, your eyes alight with pure delight and a spark of something that reminds Kirishima a lot little bit of Bakugo, "They called you a pussy—"

Kirishima's brows shoot upwards as he pauses. He was about to jump and dig his hands into the underside of the balcony, but his quirk is stalling at your words. There's a roaring fire blazing in your eyes, one that screams retribution. 

It's... comical.

You cackle again at him with a wide grin, hissing conspiratorily. "They made fun of my shirt!"

You point down at the REAL MEN RIOT tee with both hands, your face set in a look of vindicated glee. Then, the second realization of the night hits — that you've got no pants on, and that stupid, goofy Dynamight eye mask is still on your face. You make a soft sound of embarrassment and tug your shirt down lower, trying to cover up. He cannot see your underwear. No. No way, no fucking way. Without a single word, you reach up, snatch the Dynamight eye mask off your face, and whip it off the balcony without a second thought. 

Slowly, Kirishima's face splits into a pointy grin. 

Holy shit, he's so fucking hot. 

"Oh, man," Red Riot rumbles, his face cracking into a sharp, playful smirk, "That's real rude. I might have t' teach these guys some manners."

Your smile returns, washing away the wobbly look of embarrassment sticking to your cheeks. 

Man, it sure is cute.

You are really cute, Kirishima realizes.

"Right! And who calls Red Riot a pussy?" you counter excitedly, before reigning it in and awkwardly lowering your arms as you try to tug your shirt down to hide the tops of your thighs again. Your glee has stifled a little bit, but it only reaffirms Kirishima's duty to wrap this all up. 

"Yea, that's, like, super misogynistic," he muses as his quirk kicks in and his hands flick into a hardened state. It's insaneto witness the way his large hands transform into weapons with a single breath. You can see the jagged extension of his quirk working up his large arms, too, "Lemme just have a lil' word with these boys, alright? Head on inside, I'll be back in a sec'."

Then, with graceful ease, he hops upwards with a little hup before latching to the base of the upstairs neighbor's balcony. 

It's insane how effortless it is for him to haul himself up the balcony, his hands dug into the cement. His upper body strength is insane. He's scaling the terrace, alternating his grip. He disappears into the dark, swinging his body upwards and reaching his destination.

You tamp down your awe in favor of heeding his directions: head inside.

You're closing the balcony door when you hear Red Riot's voice greet the unexpecting gaggle.

"Hey, fellas! I heard you guys are some super fans. Got anything you want me to sign?"

You snicker to yourself as you hear the beginning of a fight. 

Again, as it turns out, the guys upstairs sucked. Like, mega sucked. They'd been responsible for several recent Trigger overdoses; Uravity and Red Riot were working with law enforcement to track the small-time manufacturers — which explains why they'd been so quiet lately. They suspected someone was on their tail. 

As Red Riot scaled their balcony, law enforcement waited to break down their door. They arrested the four men (Seriously? Four? In that studio?) without much incident — however, you did spy a broken nose on one of them as they were hauled into the back of the awaiting cruisers. 

Sweet, sweet revenge. 

By the time your neighbors are carted off, you've shimmed into some sweats and made a half-assed attempt to look sort ofpresentable, all while firing off a few contextually incomprehensible texts into your group chat.

red riot has seen me in my underwear wtf do i do know kiss him?

You're really weighing your options when there's a knock on your balcony entry. It's gentle and cordial. You turn, head snapping, and spy that trademarked (and a dozen times retweeted) smile through the glass. He waves. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. You try to remember to breathe as you shuffle over and tug the balcony door open. The night air is cool.

Be like the night air.

Stay cool.

Eijiro feels so silly. And guilty. And honestly? Really into you. 

You're still wearing that shirt — the one with his face on it. You have opted to put on pants, but Kirishima still reminds himself to keep his eyes on your face. No ogling. That's not very gentlemanly. 

There's a beat of awkward silence as the two of you wait for the other to speak, and Kirishima is the one to break it with a raspy laugh.

"I wanted to apologize about your plants," a large hand moves to rub the back of his neck, "I cleaned up as best I could. I'm really, really sorry."

You wave him off, leaning into the doorframe. "No, it's okay! It's nothing I can't... fix. I think?"

You look beyond him to the catastrophic mess of plant matter. He must have tried tidying up while you rattled off the rapid-fire texts in the group chat. 

Red Riot's face warbles into something tied between mortification and guilt. "Please forgive me."

"Seriously!" you cry, waving your hands as you try to placate his dejected expression, "Please don't feel bad. It's a fair trade, y'know. Those guys upstairs were, like, the worst."

"I can only imagine," Eijiro concedes, frowning a little, "They didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

You shake your head and laugh a little, "Aside from insulting my favorite hero to my face? Not really."

Kirishima can feel his face get a little hot. He shifts from boot to boot. His smile is a little woozy. "So... you're a fan?"

You don't need to tell him the underwear you have on matches the shirt — red, with an embroidered RR on the front. You keep that to yourself. You just nod happily.

"Really?" his grin cracks into something so excitable it makes your entire stomach flip, "I don't meet a lotta fans who are..."

His words drift off.

He's staring at your eyes. You're so... soft. Warm. Your eyes are swirling with quiet, astonished adoration and it's making Kirishima feel like he's floating. 

"Who are...?" your brow quirks as you lean deeper into the doorframe, trying to coax out the rest of the sentence.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, his posture relaxing a little as he soaks in your expression.

It's like getting sucker punched to the sternum.

All the wind rushed out of your lungs.

The soft moment only lasts a beat, because suddenly Red Riot's face screws up and he waves his hands hurriedly. "Wait, no. Hold on, I mean — all of my fans are gorgeous, because, uh, they're my fans and I love them, right? It's not like they're not gorgeous, I just — I'm... I... My fans are, like, usually dudes? A-And that's totally cool because dudes can be gorgeous, too, y'know? But—"

You're laughing.

Kirishima is realizing he was not paying enough attention in his agency's PR training last month and you're laughing.

"I get it," you giggle, crossing your arms and grinning up at him, "I mean, I definitely don't think I'm gorgeous but—"

"You are," he assures firmly, his expression serious.

Are you dead?

Are you, like, literally ascending to a higher plane right now?

There's no fucking way this is happening. 

Your lips part in quiet shock as you bite back a smile that threatens to cramp up your cheeks. Kirishima eats it up, his posture perking up at the way you seem to melt at his compliment. His smile is boyish — almost dizzy. 

You duck a bashful look towards the tiled floor of the balcony, not really giving a singular shit that your beloved monstera has been stomped on.

Kirishima clears his throat, then — in a move he totally hasn't swooned over in those K-dramas he's secretly obsessed with, that'd be ridiculous — he props his arm up against your door and leans over you. Your faces are close in the warm light of the balcony. 

Your eyes stutter up his abdomen, chest, jaw, lips, and eyes. Kirishima notices. It's really, really cute.

"Are you, uh... Are you seeing anyone?" 

Of course, Red Riot would ask that. Red Riot, the king of chivalry. How is something like that so endearing? For the tenth time tonight, he makes your stomach flip.

You shake your head no, a little too stunned to speak.

"Cool," Eijiro musters over a shake of nerves, "Cool. Okay. Uh, then would it... would it be okay if I bought you some new plants?"

You nod, swallowed entirely by his shadow. He's so fucking huge. 

"And if I took you to dinner?" 

Another nod.

"...And — shit. You're, like, so cute," the smooth persona he's put on melts a little as his eyes roam your face; you feel so... shy, "I was gonna ask you something else but..."

"My number?" you offer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you maintain eye contact. 

Is it hot? You're sweating. Is he sweating? He's hot. 

Eijiro nods, absolutely mesmerized by the way you tug your lip between your teeth. "That. Yea."

He has to fight back the urge to bite his knuckle when you turn away and move towards your kitchen to snag your phone. Kirishima stays put, allowing himself one moment of ogling. When you turn around, he's clearing his throat and crossing a boot over his ankle. 

He's still leaning up against the doorway.

"Here," you slip him the phone.

Eiijiro takes it — then hesitates for a second.

"...You're not gonna leak my number, are you?"

You have to laugh. You rub your cheek and shake your head before crossing your arms and looking up at him. "If you think I'm going to do anything to fumble this, you're wrong." 

Fumble this? Fumble him? He's the one that is at risk of fumbling, are you serious?

Eijiro barks out a surprised laugh as he enters his number, shoots a quick text his way then ignores the buzz in his back pocket. He hands your phone back and tries so fucking hard to ignore the way your fingers brush his. 

He got your number.

Holy shit, he got your number.

"Hey, Red Riot?"

He blinks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

You gesture for him to come closer, and he obeys easily — he bends a bit at the waist, his hair falling along his shoulders as he smiles down at you in the threshold of your apartment.

"Is everything alri—?"

You pop a chaste kiss against his cheek. 

Or, try. 

As you hop up onto your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, Eijiro is turning his head at the sound of Urvaity calling his name simultaneously. Trajectory failed, and now it's lips and lips instead of lips on cheek — and honestly? He owes Ochaco one for this. 

Red Riot melts — actually, truly, genuinely melts. His posture slumps down as you let out a shocked little sound of apology. But, Eijiro doesn't mind, and fuck, neither do you — because one hand braces against the doorframe above your head while his other hand is suddenly on your waist. He steadies himself, and damn. Damn. 

He breaks away when Uravity calls his name again. Kirishima is breathless and blushing, and your knees feel like jello. 

"I... Uh, I gotta go—"

"Yea, totally," you breathe, swallowing down the burn of unfiltered attraction, "Sorry, I was trying to kiss your cheek—"

Another call of his name. Red Riot curses softly before hollering a 'COMING!' over his shoulder, out past the edge of the balcony. 

When he turns back, he's fast to sweep you into another kiss — this one hotter than before. This one draws you into his chest, sending your hands colliding with the hot skin of his chest. There's muscle and scars and heat beneath your fingertips. His hand curls around your lower back, and you nearly moan. 

He peels himself away with an apologetic look as he backs towards the edge of the balcony. "I gotta go — I'll text you once patrol is over. Is that okay? I'm serious about the plants. And dinner." 

All you can do is nod.

Eijiro is kinda proud of himself for stunning you stupid with that kiss.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

[banj0possum]

All You Need

Yandere! Bodyguard x Gn Reader

CW: obsessive behavior, minor stalking

i changed his name, his old name was doo doo, it was but a trick of the light

IM CHANGING HIS NAME AGAI-

♠️ Never before would you have ever considered hiring a bodyguard, you could defend yourself on your own just fine, but with all your rival manufacturers trying to get you out of the competition with assassinations and attempted kidnappings, you had no choice.

♠️ Feelings were a very rare thing for Baron, and he was fine with it, after all, emotions weren't a very helpful thing to have when your job is to kill people. There was no room for soft, sappy things like that when you lived in his side of the city.

♠️ But his cold and empty demeanor was somehow broken through the moment he saw you.

♠️ The smile you had on your face pierced his heart like cupid's arrow, it was like love at first sight for him.

♠️ He was just getting some rest after a particularly stressful job at a nearby bar when he heard the sweetest laughter from across the room.

♠️ There you were, the most beautiful person he's ever laid eyes upon. You were sitting with some other people, talking and drinking together like all the other patrons, but you stood out to him like a precious gem amongst stone.

♠️ It seemed as if the world slowed down when your eyes briefly met his.

♠️ He would now frequent that bar, learning what you like to order, when you get there and who you'd be with.

♠️ He's never talked to you, or even interacted with you in any way, but the feelings he had for you couldn't be denied. You're just too adorable!!

♠️ Through his connections, he found out you were a big name in weapons design. Unique and beautifully deadly instruments of death were created by your hands. Is it weird he finds that hot?

♠️ He'd start off making anonymous orders for weapons to you, it was normal to get one that was unnamed, so you thought nothing of it.

♠️ When he got his order, an intricately designed dagger, he couldn't bring himself to use it on anyone. This is a gift from his kind and talented darling! He couldn't just stab it into someone's chest like any other knife!

♠️ Yes, he has a little shrine of you.

♠️ When he heard you were hiring for a bodyguard, he was ecstatic! Finally, he can be with you for real! He had to stop himself from giggling like a little girl in front of his colleagues.

♠️ He applied for the job and immediately was given instructions to your address, he read it over and over again until it was engraved into his mind.

♠️ "Tomorrow, 5pm. 93 Lebberside Ave. Door with the hummingbird symbol on it in the alley. Do not be late."

♠️ When he arrived at the location, his heart was pounding under his cold expression. He knocked on the door and heard a muffled crash from inside with a small "Shit!" before the sound of multiple clicks of locks followed.

♠️ You pulled the door open and looked up at the man with dark eyes.

♠️ "Are you the applicant?"

♠️ "Y-yes.." God he stuttered, he hoped you couldn't see his flushed face.

♠️ "Good, come in." You pulled him in and swiftly locked the door again.

♠️ He looks around and it looked like a normal home, albeit a little cluttered. Boxes of files and paper were almost everywhere with takeout boxes and noodle cups on every surface of the house. Looks like you've been piled with work for a long time, poor thing, you really need him to take care of you don't you?

♠️ He sits down on the couch across from the little bean bag you were sitting on while reading a file you grabbed from the coffee table, god you're adorable..

♠️ "So you're..?"

♠️ "Baron..Baron Valencia.."

♠️ "Baron..."

♠️ Oh god say his name again please plea-

♠️ "Hm..your file's pretty good..and you don't have any recent dealings with my competitors? Interesting, looks like you have a good eye for quality weaponry huh?" You smile at his file before looking at him with fox eyes. The things he'd let you do to him...

♠️ "I just took a liking to your model's, they're more convenient and useful than others.." He says with a straight face.

♠️ You chuckle and ask him a few more questions before eventually moving on to small talk, he relished in the time you two spent together laughing at past experiences and jokes, it was like he's known you forever, it took every muscle in his body just to stop himself from smiling too much.

♠️ Eventually, you got up and patted his lap, putting down the file. "Well, Mr. Valencia, you're hired!" You say with a smile, the same smile that melted his heart the first time he saw you.

♠️ "Really?! I-I mean- thank you..Boss.."

♠️ He regains his calm composure after letting his voice go a little too high for his liking, any embarrassment he would've had in that situation was replaced with a warm, tingly feeling as you placed a hand on his shoulder, giggling.

♠️ After that, he'd watch you like a hawk, always being by your side ready to protect you, even if you’re just at home. You never know when someone will try to hurt you!

♠️ He'd be looming over you, giving any poor soul trying to talk to you a death stare until you introduced them as friends of yours, he's a giant guard dog basically.

♠️ His stoic expression would persist even when you make small talk with him all the time so casually. It was like he wasn't even your bodyguard sometimes, just a friend you were hanging out with.

♠️ He wasn't all intimidating and cold, he was also very concerned for your health...all the time, and can you blame him? You've been living off of takeout and instant noodles for months!

♠️ "Boss, I think you should eat a proper dinner and not fastfood again, I'll cook for you."

♠️ "Your work can wait, Boss. I'm sure your client can wait another day, please, you look tired."

♠️ It's all part of being your bodyguard! He has to keep you safe and healthy! He'd be happy to move in so he can protect you 24/7 if you'd let him.

♠️ He'd offer to help you clean your living space a little too, since you're so busy and all with work, he might as well make life easier for you. You said yes to get him to stop pestering you about it and when you came back to the living room, all the clutter and empty food containers were gone..as well as a few of your clothes..I guess he put them away as well, how nice of him.

♠️ If you confront him about this, he'd deny it all flushed in between stutters.

♠️ "Well Baron, it sounds to me like you want to be my househusband more than a bodyguard with all your offers for looking after me and such."

♠️ "Wh- Me? N-no! I'd never! I-I mean unless you'd want that..Not that I'm saying I want to! But well uhm- I-if you uh..uhm..I'll leave you alone to work..."

♠️ On days off a.k.a. days you forced him to take a break from taking care of you to get a bit of breathing space for yourself, he'd stalk your social medias or flat out stalk you. A true bodyguard never stops protecting their boss! He just wants to watch over you!

♠️ On the rare occasions that you're too deep in work and not getting a blink of sleep, he'd use his strong arms to pull you into bed and force you to rest. It wasn't long before he heard you softly snoring in his arms, you were exhausted from long days of working and delivering orders and evading taxes and such, no wonder you went out like a light.

♠️ He looked down at you as he sighed lovingly, placing a kiss on your head, whispering a soft "Goodnight, cariño.." Before drifting off to sleep himself.

♠️ "..Goodnight Baron.."

♠️ "B-Boss! Y-you heard that?!"

[catfern]

lap dog.

in support of palestine ∙ the reality of tlou ∙ resources

pairing: ellie williams x afab!reader x abby anderson

music: master of none - beach house

word count: 2k

summary: abby and ellie are best friends, never more. when you come into the picture, competition bleeds into something else entirely.

warnings: porn, ellabs, sub-ish!abby, sub-top!ellie, dom-ish!reader, marijuana use, got high and watched challengers this is what happened

fern says ⎯ this one goes out to @heavenbloom & @atyourmerci the only two pookies keeping me going at this point! rawr!

it was innocent, at first. you suppose.

a pit sinking in your stomach at the all-too-looming feeling of a foreign school, the kind smile offered was an olive branch. white teeth, skin blemished only with the soft indents of a splattering of freckles and moles, it put you at ease. this definitively friendly tour guide.

“hey, m’abby.” the squeeze of her hand was gentle, but firm. practiced. her eyes on you felt like a studied gaze, a flicker over your body that made your ears burn, your name on her tongue a syrupy temptation. “i’m s’posed to show you around, so…”

you clung to abby, in your first few weeks. you would’ve felt bad, this dependence on your only friend growing, if she hadn’t returned the sentiment almost tenfold. 

hey

want coffee before class?

- abby

the blaring screen of your phone dunking on you like ice water, bleary eyes and a dopey smile typing a response in the early morning manufactured darkness of your dorm room. 

she’d show, fifteen minutes later, in all the gloried aftermath of her morning run, shoving the iced latte at you with easy conversation. she’d wait on your bed while you dressed, poorly pretending to be wildly interested in her instagram explore page.

ellie happened later.

“she hot?”

“i don’t wanna answer that.”

the ball hits the roof, before bouncing with a mean thwack into the tangle of abby’s hair. ellie pulls herself up on the bed, teetering on her tired forearms with a servile smile. “come on,”  the rasp in her voice gives her a malignant edge, “objectively, is she hot?”

abby looks at her, swallowed in her gaze even from across the room. she rolls her eyes before returning to roughly running a brush through her hair, “she’s nice.”

“fucking prude!” the palm of ellie’s hand comes down like a rough punishment, a sting on the sculpt of abby’s shoulder that rings a small wince. her laugh is complimentary, “what? she a secret or something?”

abby shakes her roommate’s sliding hands off her, fighting her languid, teasing embrace, “no, no, she’s just- i dunno.”

a light hum fills the quick silence in the air, ellie pulls away.

“i wanna meet her.”

“what? ellie —“ abby whips around quick, something akin to a firm, stubborn fear tracing her face, “no. no.”

you shift on the floor, the scratchy carpet under your ass stinging with a strange itch. the joint is hanging weakly between ellie’s lips as she holds the lighter to it, off-handed smoke swirling and ebbing in the close air of the room. abby is sequestered on her bed, trying her hardest not collapse in on herself.

you’re taking the joint from ellie, ellie. her iced gaze flickers between the both of you, something unrecognisable sitting, gnawing at her very soul.

“so,” smoke spills from your mouth, dripping from your lips like it never wanted to leave you. you hold the blunt, firm between two fingers as you trace your thoughts with your hand, “what is this?”

ellie laughs faintly, her eyes meeting the terror of abby’s briefly, before falling over the way you’re sat, cross legged, the thin fabric of pyjama shorts riding up your thigh. her laugh is dopey, saccharine laced with a bite, “what d’ya mean?”

you’re pinned, like a dead butterfly behind glass, inspected. abby leans forward, a pique of interest crawling up her spine, her elbows digging nasty red welts into her knees. they both, as if practiced, stare, like careful animals on the other side of a zoo exhibit fence. they know they cannot touch you, but they deign still to think they can try.

 you laugh, something elevated, untouchable, bringing the joint back to your mouth, “you two — you seem, close.”

a shared look of panic and something deeper sets between them, ellie stretching her legs to knock yours as she plucks the joint from you, shooting abby a teasing glance. she pats the battered carpet next to her, “come on abs.”

the nickname is a taunt, an echo of some wild, buried intimacy that ellie wanted — needed  you to know. she’s answering your question, in a way.

abby slides off the bed, scooting over at her roommate’s beck and call. she takes the blunt tenderly, leaning back and letting ellie hold the lighter to her, the movement eased, familiar. she shakes her head, “we’re friends.”

you smile, lopsided, a low-flying buzz hanging in the air. your body loose, uncaring, as you canvas the look ellie has on her face. pensive.

“right.”

“what?”

“nothing, i just - i don’t believe you.” 

“it’s true!” the laugh shared between them is something too close for comfort to be true, but abby persists, “we grew up together, we play tennis together, we’re friends.”

“well…” the soft abrade of ellie’s voice was a testament, a challenge. for you, it was a tantalising peak behind a curtain so well guarded, a piece of themselves so rarely shared. for abby, it was an unnecessary torment. she looks at ellie, she sees the competition in her eyes. abby knows the sting of shared desire, of the punishing hand of her best friend. the brunette pouts, studying her roommate’s look of resigned pleading, “come on! i think it’s a — it’s a cute story. abby had a little, teensy crush on me when we were kids.”

“oh fuck off!” the edge in the swell of abby’s voice demanded attention, commanded respect in the abhorrent violence of something unexpected. the closeness of the two sat thick, heady in the face of the thin layer of smoke in the air. ellie’s hand slips from her thigh.

a silence befalls the three of you, foreign and raw in the space of casualty. the air of times past is not lost on you, as you watch the humiliation creep through abby’s skin in red flushes. ellie’s advantage.

“i think it’s cute,” you muse with a misaligned shrug.

— a beat.

“really?” that changes everything, in a pathetic sort of way. abby has the eyes of a puppy, a tortured lap dog as she looks at you, wide and wild, tamed on your word. a certain honey of victory sits in her stomach.

“yeah, i mean -“ you laugh, such an ardent reminder of their own pursuits of you, fresh and recognisable. of who stands on their feet, and who kneels before them. “i just don’t intend to be a homewrecker.”

“we’re not together.” they choir together in rehearsed concordance, in defence of themselves. strange, how their voices melt together in a harmony so well matched.

you hum, as if to challenge them quietly, before standing. the stretch of your legs provides a curious path, their gazes dripping upwards of you like forlorn magnets, drawn to your body. you look down on them with a quirk of your brow, pulling your pj shorts to rest higher on your hips, before perching yourself on the edge of ellie’s bed.

they look at you as if they had just lost you, something childishly snoopy glinting, matched, in their eyes. your hands run along the scratch of ellie’s bedsheets, exploring, before you pat either side of you, gently.

in a scramble, they pull themselves to your side, infringing on your summoning. ellie pressed to your left, abby to your right, inescapable, the both of them.

you meet abby’s gaze, swallowed nearly in the startling kindness of the blue of her iris. she looks so meagre, so shrunken and teetering on the edge of your existence, a planet in orbit of a raging star.

gently, with the softness you label so deserving of her, your hands wander, pulling her in, letting the chasteness of her lips fall away into a fevered triumph, the taste of the salt of her lips and the bitterness of the weed a chaser to her touch.

ellie, sat so humbly, waits in a quiet, angry defeat, her fingers ghosting the edge of your bare thigh. oh, to be the only child, so unused to sharing. impatient and derivative, she almost whines, a soft call for your attention. you answer, to the surprise of both, abby’s taste still on your lips, something so familiar.

she’s more callous than the girl she so aptly loves and despises, her movements quick and domineering as she seeks to own you. abby, tasting you and wanton for nothing, slips down to the stretch of your neck, pressing her kindness into your skin with the pliant pull of her teeth.

ellie’s hands are needy creatures, pulling over you like the ebb and flow of a vicious tide, snaking up your shirt for just a taste.

“..fuck.” your heavy breath fills the room like smoke, a complying pass for her to tease the stretch of her fingers under the waistband of your shorts. control was just a fleeting delusion, your hand grabbing at the bone of her wrist, “come on, let her go first.”

ellie, once again left waiting; abby, so all consumed with the pulse of your neck, is despondent, desperate, her breath shaky in your ear as her hand slips beneath the fabric, a soft groan dripping from her lips at the velvet of your walls enveloping her.

she’s slow, languid and unpracticed with her indigent circles around your clit. a sweet intoxication hanging heavy in the air, you laugh, coy and soft and somewhat mean. you had thought abby bigger, more unobtainable than she really was.

here, she is human. here, she bares her unspoken inexperience.

you pull a desperate, evil ellie from the swirl of your tit, so keen to pull your attention away. your thumb mindlessly swipes along the hang of her bottom lip, her breath warm and savouring in your sunlight.

“y’know what to do?” ellie nods into the palm of your hand, eager to show off, to please. “teach her.”

leaning up on the back of your elbows, you watch through a half-lidded honeyed gaze as ellie slinks down, conflicted. a certain affection in her touch, deeper than that of anything else, she finds abby’s fingers in the heat of your legs, leading them along the strings of your impulse.

a shaky moan leaves abby’s lips, the callous of ellie’s fingers along her own a dream unfounded. she can feel the press of her chest against her back, her breath in her ear, her chin on her shoulder. this was not unlike of them, not a foreign feeling, but new, still. the need in ellie’s throat is rotted, estranged to her touch.

they assess you on the bed, like an experiment. the arch of your back is artwork along the ripple of the sheets.

“go slow, you see that?” ellie’s voice is low in abby’s ear, tracing the breathy moans you drip beneath them. “just like that — good, abs. good girl.”

ellie’s hand slips from abby’s, running your slick along her arm, your thigh, a trail up your stomach as she comes to palm your tits, her mouth finding your neck, biting down on your wicked pulse in such difference to the other.

abby is lost, chasing feelings that no longer belong to her. she watches you writhe under her touch, under ellie’s touch. something wanting sits in her throat, unknown to her.

ellie is her best friend. but this — mean competition abandoned, this is something else. something buried, aged, ready to rear its head.

the blonde brings her lips to the dip of your stomach, pressing a soft trail up the curve of your hips. unsure of what she wants, what she’s looking for on the crest of your body, she presses the crook of her nose into your naval, her fingers burning, picking up their speed.

ellie comes to her, drawn to her like to her a flame. pressing a kiss to the curve of your breast, she finds the cotton of her friend’s lips so easily, as if fated. messily, they meet along the plume of your ribcage, you, an instrument for their own aches. esoteric, their tongues swirl on your skin, on their lips, tracing each other as if they had never known the other at all.

like dogs tugging at meat with the bare of their teeth.

homewrecker, indeed.

⎯ kofi

taglist; @whore4abby @endureher @beemillss @afraidofheightss @sentimentalyellow

[yourdoorisunlocked]

I'll Never Meet Another You - Part 1

📺 【 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 】📺

𝐀/𝐍: Is that...? Oh my god- It's the sound of another WIP in my endless void of fanfic ideas that managed to see the light of day!! It also means I've added another demon husband to my ✨cOlLeCtIoN✨

So, I'm definitely doing a continuation of this- I was having WAY too much fun writing it.

Enjoy your yandere, stalking, creepy-ass television man! :)

. . .

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬: 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐯, 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜. 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴛᴀɴɢᴏ | ᴀᴜᴛᴏʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

. . .

Electricity bounced across clawed, neon-blue fingertips as Vox’s collection of monitors booted up, lining the walls in a cyan-hued excess of the latest tech his company manufactured.  

With but a wave of his hand, the devices were slaves to his command. 

As Vox sat upon his electronic throne that was centered before it all, he closed every work-related tab within his mental browser, before slumping in his seat within the darkness. The demon rubbed where the bridge of his nose would’ve been with a stressed crease in his brows; a little habit that he had acquired from his life above.  

To say it had been a long day would’ve been the understatement of the century. For the first twelve hours since he had emerged from his quarters, Vox had been bombarded with underlings shoving incessant workloads into his lap.

Ensuring the reputation of the Vees, the new VoxTech Angelic Security system that he had been developing, the countless amount of paperwork and maintaining the digital grid, and to top it all off, he had to manage the temper of one pissed-off Valentino. 

Ugh... Fuckin' Val and his goddamn runaways... it's not my fucking fault he can't manage his toys. 

Dealing with the lustful moth Overlord's temper tantrums were usually the absolute highlights of Vox's day, but this time in particular there was quite the treat in store for the overworked Overlord.

Hm... Maybe that's how the name came to be. Ah, who am I kidding? Velv just sits on her ass all day.

Of course, Vox pushed his indignation aside and swept everything up with a winning smile of pure showmanship, the pinnacle of excellence in front of the public.

And just as everything seemed to fall into place, like any other day of Vox cleaning up the messes of his fellow Overlords, something just had to go fucking wrong.

Imagine being the literal fucking backbone of the Vees, ensuring that their picture-perfect reputation of utmost excellence and being called up by an irritated Velvet to play babysitter and manage the man-child because of fucking Angel Dust- 

And then catching wind of ḧ̴͇͕́̍i̷̡̹͋͂̓m̵͈͔̳̭̙̍͝ returning... 

A few sparks flew from Vox's antenna as his overheated fans whirred rapidly. That old timey, triangle-assed p̴̲̩̮͙̜̎́̋r̸͓̟͆̀͆i̸̼͕͓̺̹̪̔͛͊̋͗c̸̢̤̐͂͜k̵̻̭̦̣̪͈̕-̸̢̡̪͇̖̈́... 

Slowly, he took a deep breath, stretching his knuckles and tilting his head to the side with a deep frown. He had the evening to himself, now. No Radio-Pricks, no need to maintain the perfect facade he had so carefully crafted for himself and his allies, and no Valentino.

Time to unwind... 

A cup of coffee materialized in his hand with a spark of electricity that lingered around his hand, dancing upon his fingers. He scooted just a bit closer to the large, main monitor within the center of TVs installed in his office, and his mental request was immediately answered by the large computer screen before him. 

A zipped file containing possibly the most sensitive information that you couldn’t fucking torture out of the television demon happened to be the very first result of his search, almost teasing him with the overtness of his little obsession. 

Vox clicked on the file quicker than ever before, and he took a long, slow sip of his drink as he focused solely upon the pretty little blessing that had graced his screens since a few months ago.

You were lounging on your couch, scrolling haphazardly on your phone in your less-than ideal apartment, but hey, it worked for you, so who was Vox to judge? Even if he would've placed you in one of the most mind-bogglingly extravagant penthouses that you'd ever seen in your afterlife, he had no qualms as long as you remained untouched. 

And luckily, his position and occupation made it more than easy to ensure that you had no one in particular in mind to take his place. 

No matter where you were, or what you were doing, nothing about you remained unseen by Vox, and no stone was left unturned when it came to your private life. 

And Vox was always there. Watching. Adoring you through digitally enamored eyes without moving an inch from his seat. 

Small, pixelated hearts floated across his interface as you looked through your phone, blessing him with a plethora of reactions. Whether it be with a small pout of your lips, to the furrow of your brows, to that cute giggle-snort you made whenever something seemed funny to you, the electronic Overlord drank it up like red wine from a golden cup glorified by gods themselves.

Lord, Vox had it bad.

Every step you took, every breath you inhaled, every purchase you made, every club or restaurant you went to, your exact order at your favorite diner, your taste in fashion and jewelry, he memorized every fact, photo, and video and saved it all in a private file.  

It was Vox's most precious possession, the closest he could ever get to you, for now.

Vox’s smile stretched across his flat-screen face; a neon hue of razor-sharp teeth pulled into a fond simper as the sound of your chiming laughter rang out across his office. 

How he wished to capture the sound, perhaps place it into a bottle for him, and only him to hear, your smile a treasure of the rarest quality to keep. 

There was no doubt about it, Vox was your number one fan. 

More monitors across the room lit up, whether it be with your beautiful face or your soft, angelic singing, there was nothing but you, you... 

Y̵̼̜̿o̴̝͕̾ṷ̸̇.̶͈͍̎̔ ̵̟̒̚ 

Vox hated the idea of having to share this with anyone else. Share you with anyone else. Every time he ended the night like this, he had to fight the urge to steal you away and seat you upon your rightful place, a throne beside his, towering above his empire with no unworthy, sinful eyes to look upon you. 

“Huh... I’ve actually always wondered what that ‘Vox’ guy is like in real life...” said demon froze at the sound of his name pouring from your lips, and a soft blush mixed with the bright blue glow of his face, coloring it a light lavender pink. You were talking to yourself again, something Vox binged like a talk show whenever he was off work.  

He could watch you all day like this. And God knows that he would massacre any number of demons, conquer any area of territory simply for a few minutes in your presence.

A casual conversation, witty banter, fuck, he'd rather talk about the goddamn weather with you than be deprived of your presence any longer. Not behind a screen, but in person.

Vox needed something, anything with you, romantic or platonic, though the former would surely grow an insatiable craving, if you kept teasing him like this.

He needed you to be there for him, to just treat him like a person.

Vox normally wouldn't mind the fact that he was always perfecting himself for others, catering to their every desire. A machine. Meant to serve the masses, and in turn, they'd fall to their feet before him like flies to honey, insatiable, pathetic worms. 

But it'd drive anyone to the brink of fucking insanity, to keep up the same, cheery yet suave charade every draining day.

And with you? Even if you never knew about your secret admirer’s ever-prying eyes watching your every step, it felt like Vox didn't need to put on a show for you. He could simply watch and listen as you, sweet, mischievous, lovable you talked his ears off for the rest of his day.

What I'd give to just kiss the hell out of her-

“Heh, he’s actually kind of cute. Y’know, for a TV, I guess...” you giggled at the end of your sentence as you scrolled through more photos of him, drinking up every piece of content that featured the demon that was watching you through your camera.  

A little side-menu of exactly what you had been looking through immediately popped up, and an intense zapping noise from above signaled to Vox that, once again, the demon was two seconds away from overheating and having to reboot himself as he nearly spit out his hot drink. 

Vox nearly short-circuited in his seat as you smiled warmly down at your phone, directly into his eyes as his cold, mechanical heart pounded in his chest, and bright red spread across his screen like a virus.

“Oh... Ohoho...” 

“Now that’s good television...” 

. . .

End Notes: Ok, holy SHIT-

I really like this one. Like GODDAMN this was so fun to write!! I'll definitely be doing headcanons for yandere Hazbin Hotel very soon. Also, that A03 shit I just pulled at the end? You're welcome ;)

Btw I'm working on my Masterlist, so if anyone has requests or drabbles that they'd like to enter, don't be afraid to ask! I think I'll make some rules clear later, like no EXTREME asks or kinks or anything like that.

Smut is on the table though don't be afraid lmao. I'll be the one shaking in my boots when I'm about to post it- 😓

Anyway, thanks for reading!! See you next time✨

[achromatophoric]

Pre-Wenclair. Yoko comes across Enid alone at their lunch table, looking both perplexed and more than a little distressed.

Yoko: Sup pup. Somethin’ wrong?

Enid: I think I somehow pissed off Willa.

Yoko: Wow, Glumbelina pissed off? I can’t imagine.

Enid: I’m serious, Yoko!

Yoko: Okay okay, I’m putting on my bestie hat. *mimes donning hat* So what happened?

Enid: Well, we were just like, hanging out. I think she broke someone’s finger earlier, so she was even in a not-terrible mood.

Yoko: Cool cool, so her rage-meter was reset.

Enid: Exactly! So I ask if she wants a Hershey Kiss, which must’ve surprised her because I’m pretty sure she choked on her coffee.

Yoko: Huh. Go on.

Enid: So I help her clean up the coffee and after that she starts doing her silent pensive thing. Just studying the table, all intense with her cute little brow bunched up. *mimics the expression*

Yoko: Like she’s either solving or plotting crime.

Enid: Yeah, that look! So that goes on for a while, and just when I think she’s decided to ignore me, she gets up, walks around the table, and stands right next to me. Glaring.

Yoko: Oh shit.

Enid: That’s how I felt! Then suddenly I’m standing, because I’m low-key getting ready for a fight. She’s turning red. I’m starting to sweat. And then, you’re not gonna believe this, she says it.

Yoko: Bitch, what she say?

Enid: Please.

Yoko: Whut? No way, you’re shitting me. This is the rude bitch who thinks candy is ‘how corporate America indoctrinates children into the Cult of Capitalism.’

Enid: I’m serious. One-hundo percent.

Yoko: Wow. So like, what happened next to piss her off? Did you lie about the Hershey Kiss and now she’s disappointed?

Enid: What? NO! I’d never do something like that, and— huh. She did seem kind of disappointed when I gave her the Kiss.

Yoko: Whatcha mean?

Enid: After I gave her the Kiss, she sorta… deflated? Like she got shorter. Her cute-to-creepy ratio went wobbly.

Yoko: Uh. Weird.

Enid: Exactly. And the look on her face? Gawd. It was so much! You’d have thought that chocolate betrayed her or something. Like it—

Yoko: Left Thing impaled on a knife?

Enid: *gasps* Yoko! Too soon!!

Yoko: Sorry! My bad.

Enid: Hmph. But now that you mention it, the look was that intense. And that’s when she just took off.

Yoko: Did she throw away the Kiss?

Enid: No! She crushed the poor thing in her hand, but I didn’t see her throw it away. So there you have it. Any ideas?

Yoko: Girl, your roomie is beyond kooky. Maybe it’s an Addams thing? You could have presented it wrong and tarnished her honor with cheap chocolate?

Enid: *buries head in arms* Gawd I hope not. Everything’s been going so well between us. I was starting to think she might even like like me.

Yoko: *wraps Enid in a hug* Hey pup, everything’s going to fine. It was just a Kiss. A silly little—

— Back in Enid and Wednesday’s dorm. —

Wednesday: — kiss.

Wednesday is seated on the floor, her back against the spiderweb window. In her hand is an intact, if tragically compressed, Hershey Kiss. She glares at it.

Thing: *signs*

Wednesday: I was obviously mistaken.

Thing: *signs again*

Wednesday: I blame Pugsley. If it were not for them, I would not have had pronouns on my mind.

Thing: *pauses, then hesitantly gestures*

Wednesday: *turns glare on Thing* How was I supposed to know it was the name of a manufacturer? As if I ever consume this capitalist garbage.

Thing: *mimics a shrug*

Wednesday: I just— I thought it was perhaps a part of the modern dating ritual. A declaration of pronouns to accompany the display of affection. It made sense.

Thing: *questioning gesture*

Wednesday: No, I can dispose of it myself. Now leave me to my thoughts.

Thing: *scampers out of the room*

After a minute, the sound of crinkling foil disturbs the silence.

Wednesday:

Wednesday: I’ve had worse.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2, day 1

Danny had no idea what he was doing. There. He admitted it. He had found a book of spells that reminded him of Sam and stole it on instinct. He didn't have much money after running away. He didn't even have the chance to grab one of his Go Bags as his parents fired on him.

Good news was that ghost powers made it very easy to steal stuff. Now with a book that has actual magic spells in it? He'd never go hungry again! It was kinda weird though. New dimension or not he didn't think a grocery store would sell multiple copies of spellbooks just out in the open like this. They were clearly new and a product or modern manufacturing so it wasn't like it was some ancient relic or anything.

Hmm. A mystery for later then. In the meantime he was going to go around Gotham turning rogues and random jerks into frogs! It went pretty well. There was a mass Arkham breakout not too long ago and Danny was having an absolute blast sneaking up and froggifying people while wearing a cheap glittery devil masquerade mask. Once suitable frogged he trapped them in a magic bubble and left them on the rooftops for the bats to find.

This went awry however when one of the local vigilantes, Robin, tried to attack him from above. On reflex he turned Robin into a frog and freaked out, "Okay. Crud. Okay. I can fix this!" He said while picking up the tiny vigilante, "Just promise not to hurt me and i'll turn you back!"

The angry ribbiting told him that the vigilante would agree to no such thing, "In that case," Danny used his ghost powers to make a human sized ice cage and placed the frog inside. The cages bars were thin but sturdy. It would take Robin only a few good hits to break out of it but by that time the mysterious magic user would have had a head start.

Unfortunately, Danny had just started the spell that would turn Damian back when one of his siblings, Tim, got the jump on him...and got similarly froggy for it. Now there were two frogged bats and a startled magic user.

Danny looked up at the rooftops to see more and more bats staring at him. And the just froggified Red Robin. And the frog version of regular Robin. In a cage. This looked bad. After dodging a batarang Danny apologized to the frogs and quickly yelled, "Not today satan!" At batman before dropping a smoke bomb and teleporting away.

Later at the batcave Damian and Tim were placed in different enclosures to keep their new forms healthy and to prevent any frog on frog violence as they sort this out. At first they thought this was a meta who could turn people into frogs but that was quickly ruled out due to Damian and Tim both typing on devices and telling them about the ice powers.

Thus begins Danny's attempts to find the frogged siblings and turn them back before he gets stabbed by an angry bird and Robin and Red Robins attempts to escape to find this magic user cause it was clear that he had cursed them by accident and had wanted to turn them back right away.

They're family keeps trying to stop them though saying its too dangerous to go out as a frog and they don't know what that magic users intentions were. They didn't really have much choice however seeing at Constantine couldn't help them.

The trench coated brit and said this magic was like nothing he had ever felt before and he would have to do some research. Which lead to the boys swinging across rooftops as amphibians and probably making more than a few people question what was in thier coffee.

[redrose10]

Part 2 of three… Thank you for all the comments and messages!

CEO Yoongi x Female Barista/College Student Reader

Title: Cold Brewed Love

Summary: When you begged the owner of Jin’s Java House to hire more employees you didn’t mean for him to stick you with the cold, rude, arrogant CEO Min Yoongi. Over time something begins to brew between you both and you end up forced to make decisions way above the pay grade of a cafe barista.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, hints of smut(nothing explicit), Yoongi is mean but we all know he’ll turn fluffy later, violence, kidnapping, mention of a gun, drug references, gang activity, murder, overdose

Word Count: 3,824

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke up confused and alone in a room you didn’t recognize. Your throat hurt, but your head hurt worse. You looked around trying to make out your surroundings to get some idea of where you were. The room was empty except for an armchair in the corner with a small side table next to it. The only light in the room came from a small space between the curtains of what you assumed was a window. It seemed like you had been out for quite some time judging by the amount of sunlight.

You tried to stand up, but you felt too weak immediately falling to the ground. You tried once again, but froze when you heard the door handle begin to jiggle. The door swung open and a light was turned on making you squint from the change in brightness.

“Good morning Y/N, good to see you’re finally awake. Can I get you something to eat or maybe a coffee?”, a deep unfamiliar voice spoke.

“Who are you and how the fuck do you know my name?”, you spat not in the mood for pleasantries.

The man walked in and took a seat in the chair across the room. You took noticed of his expensive looking suit that was tailored to fit him perfectly. His hair was slicked back. A strong cologne followed after him. He reminded you a lot of Yoongi.

“Is that anyway to speak to the man that saved your life and took you away from that monster?”, he said while lighting a cigar.

You scoffed, “You saved my life? My life was just fine until you kidnapped me and threw me in this room.”

“Oh dear Y/N. You really are too good and naive for Yoongi.”, the man chuckled.

The mention of Yoongi made your breath hitch.

“How do you know Yoongi?”

“Well Y/N…I am glad you asked. You see me and Yoongi go way back. We met when we were just children. We used to be very good friends, actually like brothers. We ran a little side business together. The largest drug manufacturing and distribution organization since the 80’s, you know… nothing too extreme. Then one day Yoongi’s parents decided to finally give him the reigns to control the business and suddenly he didn’t need me or our organization any more. I agreed to let him walk away because he was my brother and I loved him as such. I wanted him to have a good life either way.”

The man paused to take a long draw of his cigar before continuing, “But it turns out that wasn’t good enough for Yoongi. He was selfish. He wanted to take everything we had worked for while also making sure his past life would never get out to the public. He lied to me. He deceived me because he knew I trusted him. He took all of our assets, every cent. He destroyed any evidence that could be linked to him. And then to top it all off he went to the police to get the whole operation shut down to make sure this could never come back on him. But..unfortunately for him I’ve been able to build back most of what we had even though it’s nowhere near what we once had. It took a lot of time and cost me a lot of money and many of my men all while I’ve had to watch him live the life of luxury in his comfy office, going to galas, being praised and awed by strangers around the world that don’t know how evil he really is behind the facade of expensive suits and sultry looks. I vowed that I would get my revenge against him and make him pay for what he did to me…to us. I was starting to loose hope that I would ever get my chance.”

The man suddenly stood up and took a few long strides to kneel down in front of you. You pushed yourself back against the wall as far as you could while trying to conceal your whimpers.

The man poked his finger against your forehead, “And then I saw the photos of your little date. I could see it in his eyes…just how in love with you he is. I knew this wasn’t some random hookup like the others. And I knew that my time had finally come. Min Yoongi took everything from me and now I will take everything from him.”

“So what are you going to do? Just kill me to get back at him?”, you scoffed.

“Oh no no no Y/N. Not yet at least. I’m going to have some fun first. I want him to suffer for a while. I want him to worry about you until he’s sick to his stomach. For him to know your pain is all his fault. Then I want to kill him.”

You watched as the man walked over to the door before he turned to look back at you, “At the end of the day Yoongi doesn’t care about anyone or anything except himself, his image, and his money. You’re going to learn real soon about the real Min Yoongi.” The man stood up and left you speechless as you watched the door slam shut behind him.

“Fuck fuck fuck”, Yoongi chanted as he drove around trying to figure out his next move. He knew he never should’ve asked you out. He scolded himself for being weak for you.

He thought back to the first time he saw you and how he developed an immediate crush on you. Something he’d never experienced before. He saw you behind the counter of the coffee shop. You were definitely new. You kept eyeing him before quickly turning away every time he’d try and make eye contact with you. He knew you liked him. He wasn’t stupid.

Unfortunately he liked you too. Your cheeks flushed from nervousness and the heat of running around in behind the counter. Your hair wet from sweat and plastered to your forehead. You bit your lip in concentration as you poured the coffee. You looked so cute to him and he wanted to get to know you. To date you and make you his.

Then you shakily handed him his coffee only to knock it down on the counter spilling all over his favorite custom made shoes. Sure he had three other pairs so it really wasn’t a big deal, but he took it as the opportunity to scold you hoping to make you hate him. Selfishly hoping it would keep you away from him so he wouldn’t fall for you even more.

But it didn’t work as he had hoped and he quickly fell more madly in love with you every time he saw you. Then his parents made him get a job at Jin’s Java House. He knew it was a bad idea from the start. He tried to argue with them, pleaded for another option but to no avail. He thought he was strong enough. He started off trying to be rude while working together to make you hate him even more then he already knew you did, but it only made him feel guilty and left him wanting to make it up to you any way he could.

Then he tried distracting himself with other women, sometimes as close even ten minutes before he came down for his shift at the coffee shop with you. But even when his secretary was topless and moaning underneath him as he thrusted into her on his office couch all he could think about was you and your beautiful smile and how he wished it was you below him instead. As he was burrowed deep inside someone else he fantasized about how he would take his time and do everything possible to pleasure you until it was you screaming his name over and over. He knew it was a lost cause at that point because he was a man in love. And now here he was driving around the city while you were God knows where because of him and his weaknesses.

Yoongi regretted his past life. He wasn’t proud of what he did. He had gotten in a little trouble at school so his parents had told him he was a failure and they would sell the company before allowing him to take control. He felt hurt and useless and desperate to prove them wrong.

So as a teenager he turned to crime. Him and his best friend started dealing drugs. It started small with just some weed or pills here and there to other friends and their acquaintances. Then it got bigger and bigger until next the thing he knew they were moving thousands of kilos of various drugs every year worth hundreds of millions of dollars. They had bases in Seoul, LA, New York, Tijuana, London, Rio, Moscow, and Beijing as well as dozens of smaller ones he couldn’t even remember any more. Money was rolling in like he’d never seen even though he already grew up wealthy. He had a new woman every night and said goodbye to them before the morning with no strings attached. He was on top of the world and the best part was he was doing it all with his best friend.

Then he got a call. His dads health was deteriorating. The generational family company was falling apart. His mom was coping by drinking and popping pills, probably from his own supply unbeknownst to her. They were proud of him for becoming so successful in his “pharmaceutical business”, a lie he told when people started questioning his job or where his money came from. His parents had changed their minds and wanted him to take over the company. Become the ceo and bring profitability and success back to the family name and business.

At first Yoongi told them to fuck off. He wasn’t going to give up what he had worked hard for after they tossed him aside like he wasn’t their own flesh and blood.

Then days later he got another call from one of the few people in the world that he respected, his grandmother. She asked Yoongi to take over the company that her and his grandfather had fought so hard to build and turn into an empire. She didn’t want to see it given to someone outside of the family or worse have it shut down completely.

Yoongi tried to politely decline, but then solemnly she begged him. She begged him to take over not only to save the company, but so that he could escape his life of crime before he ended up in prison or worse. She cried reminiscing about how many times she stayed up all night worried about him and what he was doing out in the world. How every phone call made her heart skip a beat fearing the worst. How she saw families being torn apart thanks to him and his business’s product. She begged him, even referring to him as her little dumpling, a nickname she had often used for him growing up that he hadn’t heard in years.

Yoongi didn’t ask how she knew about his secret life. He didn’t want to know to be honest, but he knew he didn’t want to be the reason for her tears any longer. So he called his parents the next day to accept the position.

His friend had been kind and understanding, offering to let Yoongi just walk away from everything and leave him in charge.

At first that was fine. Then one night on his way home he found out that his neighbors daughter overdosed. She was just sixteen. A star student and respected ballerina already being scouted by some of the biggest dance companies from all over the world. Yoongi knew the drugs were from his prior organization. There were no others around at the time.

He watched the girls parents standing in the pouring rain until their knees gave out and they hit the concrete and sobbed as the stretcher carrying their daughter was wheeled into the back of a waiting van. After that night his grandmothers voice started playing over and over in his head often keeping him up along with the screams of the parents he heard that night.

Yoongi decided he wanted to erase that part of his life like it never happened.

Because he was still trusted by his friend he had access to the bank accounts which he wiped clean. He destroyed every document he could find that would tie him to the organization. Anonymously he contacted police in every city he could think of and helped them to track down all of their operations getting them all shut down. Multiple people were arrested and a few even killed. He did his best to convince himself that their blood was not on his hands.

And when the few that were arrested tried to snitch and implicate Yoongi there was no significant evidence and the little the police could find was quickly swept under the rug thanks to a little cash swung their way.

Yoongi was able to walk away without anyone knowing of his past life. His friend left to pick up the pieces of a once great empire. And now here Yoongi was paying the price for something he thought was long behind him and could no longer keep him from happiness.

You walked around the room as you looked for an escape. The window had bars around it. Of course the door was securely locked. There was nowhere to go. You didn’t have your phone any longer. You resigned to taking a seat back on the floor trying to come up with a plan.

You weren’t sure how much time had gone by but at some point later in the day a woman appeared with a tray carrying a bowl of soup and some toast as well as an apple and a bottle of water. You thanked her even though you had no appetite at all.

As you sat under the window staring up at the little bit of the sky you could see you wondered what was happening in the outside world. What happened at the coffee shop when you didn’t show up for work? Did they call looking for you? You were going to fall behind in your classes if that even mattered any more. Was Yoongi even looking for you or was he worried this would get out in the public and ruin his image? It was all becoming too much and you began to cry fearing the future and the unknown.

After a while of crying and dozing off you decided you were getting a little hungry. Remembering the tray from earlier you decided against the soup which was now cold and gelatinous, but the toast still seemed okay so you picked it up taking a bite.

It was slightly stale but passable. As you mindlessly chewed you noticed a small piece of paper on the plate where the bread had been.

With your brows furrowed you unfolded the paper finding a hand written note. The writing was barely legible as it appeared quickly scratched down and was written in some kind of lipstick.

“I’ll come back tonight. When you hear three knocks at the door be prepared to run.”

Your mouth went dry. Your heart began to race. Quickly you chugged down the bottle of water as you contemplated if running was worth the risk. Surely if they caught you then you would be killed. And who is this woman and why is she helping you? What if it was a test?

You had a million different thoughts going through your mind, but they were cut short.

*Knock…Knock…Knock*

Slowly the door creaked open and the same woman from earlier peaked in the room. She motioned for you to follow her. What did you have to loose you thought so you did.

The two of you tiptoed down the hall and some stairs before you heard shouting after you.

“Run!”, the woman shouted so you sprinted not far behind her. You ran down hallways and and stairs. Looking for any exit door.

Just when you saw your hope, a door with a large window facing the outside world just down the hall from you, you were grabbed and harshly thrown down on the ground. You looked up seeing Yoongi’s friend breathing heavily.

“This is what I get huh? I tried to let you stay upstairs in a warm room. I gave you food. Yoongi always said I was the soft one out of the two of us. I guess he was right, but not any more.”, he spat dragging you down the hall by your arm.

Frantically you searched for the woman from earlier who tried to help you. You hoped she got out or was at least safe, but you quickly realized that was not true. A blood curdling scream rang through the air followed by a single gunshot. Your eyes widened in horror.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’m not gonna kill you just yet. Not before you’ve gone on a final date with your Yoongi.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as the man threw you in a cell, the iron gates loudly clanking shut. It looked like you were in a dungeon. It was cold and there was zero light coming through.

Without speaking the man tossed you an old dirty towel to use as a blanket before heading back upstairs leaving you down there alone.

Days went by. You were barely fed and barely slept. You had accepted your fate at that point. Unsure if it was the delirium setting in or what but you often found yourself chuckling at your situation.

You missed the days of going to college. You missed your friends. You missed the smell of coffee and the warmth it brought. You couldn’t believe how your life had turned around in the matter of hours all thanks to you falling in love with a lier, con artist, the devil? You weren’t really sure how to view Yoongi right now. He was probably leading a meeting right now without a care in the world. He’s probably going out to dinner later with some woman he met on his way to work with the sole intention to get in her pants by the end of the night. A small part of you hoped he was worried about you. Looking for you. Doing anything to help. Because a small part of you still loved him.

You hadn’t heard anyone walk in until you heard the iron gate slide open ending in a loud clank.

“Put this on. And use these wipes to clean yourself up.”, an unfamiliar voice said.

You sat staring at the items in front of you not moving.

“Bosses orders”, the man growled.

Slowly you grabbed the wipes and began wiping down your face and arms. It actually felt kind of nice.

You reached for the other items, a black cocktail dress and hair brush. You took the brush and ran through your hair a few times until the knots were out.

You looked at the dress and then at the man in front of you. He rolled his eyes and sighed before turning around and facing the wall. Quickly you removed your clothes and put the dress on before the man could turn around.

Just as you finished, the familiar smell of cigars entered the air and not long after Yoongi’s friend appeared.

“Wow don’t you look nice. I can see why Yoongi likes you. I think he’ll appreciate that you dressed up just for him.”, he said before blowing a cloud smoke through your cell.

“Now go ahead and stand up against that wall.”, he pointed towards the other side of the cell.

You crossed your arms in defiance refusing to move.

He chuckled, “I like you Y/N. I really do. Too bad I’m only giving you twenty four hours to live.” Your face dropped in realization at his statement.

A bright flash lit up the cell for just a moment before you realized your photo had been taken.

“Thanks sweetheart. I’m sure Yoongi will love it.”, he laughed before leaving you alone once again.

Yoongi was back at his place pacing back and forth. He’d ignored call after call from Hobi. He’s sure he’s wondering where he and/or you are and he doesn’t have the brain power right now to come up with a believable lie.

As he stared out at the river below his apartment he heard a new notification on his phone. A text message from an unknown number came through showing the preview of a photo.

Clicking on the message he instantly dry heaved sure he would’ve fully vomited had he consumed anything today.

A photo of you in a black dress. Your hair frazzled. Immediately Yoongi noticed the bruising on your body. The cut on your lip and welt on your forehead. What killed him the most was the look on your face. The look of fear, of despair. He could see you were holding back tears and it was all thanks to him.

Seconds later another message came through, “Y/N’s a beauty Yoongi. I always did think you had good taste when it came to women and it seems like even after all these years nothing has changed. You have 24 hours to find us. If you involve the police I’ll kill her instantly. If you even care…”

You had changed back into your old clothes giving yourself a little more coverage from the cold. The floor was made of stone but you were so exhausted you were able to drift off to sleep quite quickly.

You fell into dreamland. Dreaming that you were on a beach. The warm sun shone down on you as a breeze rippled through the air. The ocean waves crashed gently against the sand next to you as you walked along the edge. Looking up you saw Yoongi just down the beach waiting for you. He flashed you a gummy smile showing you the two drinks he had in his hands. Just as you began to walk towards him the sky turned dark and a giant wave came crashing down on you dragging you out to sea. You screamed for help unable to get yourself out of the current as the waves kept you down. Running out of fight you felt yourself slowly drifting under water father and rather. The last thing you remembered was hearing Yoongi screaming your name.

You jerked awake sweaty and out of breath with your hand clutching to your chest.

Sitting up you did your best to try and calm yourself down taking deep slow breaths.

Faintly from a distance you swore you heard your name shouted. You brushed it off thinking it was just a residual memory from your dream.

Then you heard it again, a little clearer this time and you were a little more certain.

“Yoongi?”, you whispered to yourself hearing a familiar sound as the door slammed open.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - September 11, 2023

Sorry for not sending last week's issue as I got covid again :/ I passed it, so here's the best things that happened last week :)

1. The IRS plans to crack down on 1,600 millionaires to collect millions of dollars in back taxes

The IRS announced on Friday it is launching an effort to aggressively pursue 1,600 millionaires and 75 large business partnerships that owe hundreds of millions of dollars in past due taxes. The newly announced tax collection effort will begin as soon as October. “We have more hiring to do,” Werfel said. “It’s going to be a very busy fall for us.”

2. The NGO African Parks announced it would purchase the world’s largest population of privately owned white rhinos

Africa’s beleaguered rhinos have been thrown a significant lifeline with the announcement that nearly 2,000 semi-wild rhinos owned by South African rhino breeder John Hume will be “rewilded” into reserves across South Africa and other parts of the continent over the next 10 years.

3. Mexico supreme court decriminalizes abortion across country

Mexico’s supreme court has unanimously ruled that state laws prohibiting abortion are unconstitutional and violate women’s rights, in the latest in a series of victories for reproductive rights activists across Latin America.

Wednesday’s ruling came two years after the court ordered the northern state of Coahuila to remove sanctions for abortion from its criminal code, a decision which prompted a tortuous state-by-state process of legal battles. So far 12 of Mexico’s 31 states have decriminalized the procedure.

4. The first human organ created inside an animal opens the door to manufacturing ‘spare parts’ for people

It is a historic image. A team of researchers in China has successfully generated a blueprint of a human organ in another animal for the first time. The experiment, conducted with humanized kidneys in pig embryos, represents a step toward the still-distant dream of using other mammals as source of organs for transplants.

5. Study Shows a Single Dose of Psilocybin's Astonishing Impact on Depression and Could Change Medical Treatments of Mental Health Forever

Psychedelics are making a comeback, and this time, they're dressed in the respectable garb of clinical research. Recent studies have reignited interest in these substances, particularly psilocybin, the active compound in magic mushrooms, as a potent treatment for major depressive disorder (MDD).

6. Missing cat reunited with owner after it disappeared during Alaska flooding

Twenty-six days after he went missing, an adorable black and white cat named Leo has been reunited with his family. Brave Leo went missing after historic glacial flooding swept away his home and all his owner's belongings.

7. Dogs perform Mozart with orchestra in Denmark

A classical music festival in Copenhagen, Denmark, has opened with some canine additions to the orchestra.

---

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation here:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

[jolapeno]

ii. sync up our calendars

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter two of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

chapter warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. smut. frankie gets a blowjob.

an: thank you to my smut specialist, @psychedelic-ink for giving me the belief that my writing wasn't trash.

wordcount: 3.5k

You wake to still-warm sheets, but an empty bed.

Lashes fluttering, fingers sliding over soft cotton as your nose is immediately greeted with the scent of him, last night and your washing powder. A concoction, you realise (very quickly) that you want to bottle.

So much so, it makes your heart heavy, but also full.

A contrast you're not sure how to feel about.

Your mind trying to process it—the entanglement of feelings you’ve managed to keep stuffed down inside of you, that are now free, floating, fluttering.

Deep down, you know you should try and unpiece, but you’re not sure what you’ll find when you do. What will be left. What will happen if you pull on the earth-green thread that’s woven itself around every part of your life since the moment he shyly introduced himself.

Instead, your fingers just trace where he was the last time when your eyes were open. Something working itself into in your bones, digging, spreading. Unsure if it’s best labelled as disappointment or as realisation, because—

He wouldn’t just leave, surely?

Eyes stinging, burning. Blinking them away as you close your fingers into a fist. Rolling your eyes, sighing if only to yourself—hand coming across your forehead.

Because, of course, he would. Last night was…An arrangement.

An excuse.

A stress relief.

Yet, deep down, you’d hoped that for all the tests your friendship had undertaken, it wouldn’t be this thing that had him leaving before you woke. Not after the things the two of you have lived through, coped through—worked through layer by layer until movie nights and being close was all easy again, no lingering worries and knotted, balled-up unspoken secrets.

Sitting up, you pull the sheets up, staring at the doorway—hopelessly wishing. Imagining, sliding yourself into a fairytale where he walks back through the door, something in hand—a coffee, maybe?—wearing a smile, hair all at odd ends, curls still prevalent (even after all the tugging you had done). Your heart sinking, descending, falling.

Because all you’ve done is hopelessly wish.

Then, it happens. The fairytale becomes reality, flowing out, as if it’s painting itself in real time—a living, moving, walking tapestry coming to life that you realise isn’t manufactured or dreamt. But real.

“Made you coffee.”

You shouldn’t let it, but your heart skips a beat.

The sight of him alone conjuring it because Frankie’s found one of his tees in your drawer—likely from the collection of his clothing slotted between all of yours. The sweats you’d been wearing last night now on his hips, all loose, hanging, all untied and easy to drag down his thick thighs and—

The memory of last night hits you. Makes your throat dry and heat floods through you.

For a moment, you just sit in it, staring—the moment. Desperately trying to ignore the way your heart does a lurch, even if it knows it shouldn’t; your body settling, calming, even if you know this isn’t what your mind is concocting and running away with.

He’s your friend—with added stress relief. That’s it.

An agreement between kisses and exploration. A promise made between naked bodies and gentle moans.

“Hey?”

You drag your eyes up, finding brown—watching him placing the mug in your hand, wrapping his index and thumb around your wrist as he lifts it. It’s then that the bubble bursts, the one you’d begun stitching together at the idea of having him, having him call you his all over again.

His touch spreading sparks down your wrist, along your fingers, the pads of them pulsing, twitching—

“We should… talk.”

Blinking, you shift your face—rearranging emotions, haphazardly placing a smirk, smearing your lips in coffee before you know your throat can say the words that are needed to be spoken.

“About what?”

Frankie tilts his head. Gives you a look—one that says ‘don’t be like that’—one that makes you almost splutter coffee all over him, and the bed, as he sits down next to you. The mattress dipping, his thigh close to your knee, body twisting to you, fully focused, tenacious.

He takes a breath. So you begin—wanting to put him at ease. A thing inside of you that always thrums, a need to calm, to make it better.

“I had fun, Frankie.”

His eyes widen, words quick to follow: “Me too! Yeah, me too.”

Swallowing, you take a look at him.

He’s so handsome. To the point, you’re not even sure he sees it—has ever seen it. He doesn’t realise how beautiful his eyes are, how much you want to fall into them, coat yourself in the distinct Frankie-brown that you had pictured when he didn’t respond to your messages. The eyes you worried you’d never see when the trip lasted longer than he’d said.

“I would like… I’d want to..”

Smiling, you place a hand on his knee. “Me too. But, I just… I don’t want us to, I don’t—“

“I don’t want to lose you either.”

A part of you relaxes, while the rest of you sighs. Something beating normally, everything settling—not quite sure when the anxiousness had bled in, or it had tried to cling to you until it lessens and fades away.

“You’re… you’re the best thing about my life.” He says it in a tone that’s far more commanding than you’re used to—as though attempting to stamp it in. Ensure you know it, understand it, believe it. “Which is why when it begins to change *us—*what the two of us have—we stop. Alright?”

It’s easy to agree, to let the okay slip out when still holding his knee.

“So, we don’t tell anyone, alright? Not Ben. Not Will.”

He spits the latter with intent. Something there. A prickling, a loose tile of sorts on an otherwise perfect roof.

“Agreed,” you say.

Because it’s not the time or the place.

Your skin is bare under the sheets, not wanting to get into whatever the tone was when you couldn’t comfortably cage him in somewhere to tell you the truth. Because he does that—Frankie—he protects, also likes to make things easy, simple. To the point sometimes he hides himself from you, fearing he’s making things worse, complicating your otherwise normal life.

A rehash of the rules is evidence of it. A verbal contract, an assurance there’s no regret.

As if you could ever regret him; ever regret last night. The two of you.

“And you don’t want me buying you wine?” You shake your head. “You can’t cook me food—if we need it, we order.”

“Agreed. And… I’m not staying over at yours.”

His eyes narrow, but the rest of his face remains unreadable. “Okay?”

Shrugging, you take another sip, coffee spurring you on. It corrodes away any shyness, giving you the confidence, the strength. “It just gets complicated. Like I end up with things at yours, and then y’know, where does this,” you gesture between you, “end, and our friendship begins.”

If he disagrees, he doesn’t show it. Although, the air around him thickens, tightening quickly around the two of you as his head tilts, processing it—your words. His hand reaches up, scratching at his beard before he flicks his eyes up at you—warming your skin and making your ears burn.

“Okay, yeah. I get you.”

“Good.”

Then, the air dissolves, relaxed. Him reaching forward as he takes your mug, playfully winking as he takes a sip—not cowering under your gaze as he places it back, wrapping your fingers around it. Fingers lingering, desperately clutching you, as though needing you for one last time.

“Guess for this to work, y’need to give me your phone—so we can sync calendars.”

Arching your brow, you move, grabbing it from the bedside table, taking a sip as you hand it to him. Noticing how his eyes drag over you, forcing your hand to shift the sheet.

“Didn’t think you’d know how to do that, Morales.”

Snorting, he quickly smirks. “Don’t sound so surprised, querida.”

That name—it shoots fire through you. Something from last night, a thing he’s only ever let slip when he’s more booze than brains. It has the same effect then, as it does now. If not more.

Your skin warms, almost scorching against your bones. Even as his eyes drop to your phone, unlocking it, trying to fight it widening as he asks if yours is up to date—whether there’s anything missing from it.

“Looks like we’re both free in a week.”

Rolling your lips, you drip feed the heavy breath. Disguise it in your mug, a poor attempt at settling the effects he has on you.

“In a week it is.”

Then his eyes are back on you, attentive, all full of focus, as though he needs to snap a photo of you like this. Keep you framed somewhere on a ledge in his mind.

“I should get… you know, going.”

Nodding. Even though a part of you wants to pull him back down to the sheets. Tire yourself out, fuck out the worries over whether fucking him in scheduled appointments is a bad idea. Especially when…

It’s him.

It’s Frankie.

His lips find your cheek, fingers searing on your shoulder as he lingers. The scent of the two of you enveloping—almost smothering in a way you hope it never leaves.

“I’m… I’m glad it’s you.”

“What? Being your fuck buddy?”

Shaking his head, he drags his hand down his face. “I don’t like the term, but yeah.”

Smirking, you lick your lips, unable to fight a grin. “Do you prefer best friend with an unlocked benefit, Morales?”

Laughing, he shakes his head—taking your mug, draining the last bit. “Need it for the road.”

“Oh, how come? Heavy night?”

Shaking his head, he stands. “Stress relieving, I’ll say that. Text me—still. Like…”

“Normal?” you offer, earning a nod. “I will. Don’t worry, this is a perk to our friendship. Not all that it is.”

Frankie has to give it to you, you’re punctual.

Knuckles on his door, thudding away—even if you have a key.

The reason was blurred as to why the two of you swapped them, to begin with. It having been more a requirement from him to have yours, than for you to have his. But, he had been more than happy you had one when he stepped through the door that day after landing from the events in Colombia. His body having been heavy, grief hanging from every part of him that it could, the flight not easing it, the drive not soothing it, but the sight of you stepping out of his bedroom—face puffy from crying, his clothes adorning your body—

“Took you long enough to answer.”

Not a hello, not a greeting of any kind.

Frankie flexes his hand at his side.

“You could’ve used your key,” he retorts.

But, you’re smirking. Stepping in, him allowing you entry into his place as though you’ve never been here before—as though you haven’t slept on his sofa or on his bed. As though you haven’t rocked up with a thousand things to share, only to ask if you can stay just for the night.

“Do you… want a drink?”

He watches as your hands come across your front, fingers playing with fingers, nerves swirling with his.

It was easier last time. All unplanned. Almost uncoordinated—even if your bodies moved as though they knew the dance the entire time.

This was new. Unchartered waters—a high risk of drowning, spluttering, making a mess—

“Water. Please,” you say, a slight clear of your voice you try to bury, shrugging yourself from your jacket.

Frankie takes the chance to admire you.

You’re in a T-shirt, jeans. A normal outfit—one he sees you in all the time. It’s one you wear to the bar when the group is together; one you’ve picked him up in when the two of you went to run errands. But, none of those times has he been able to peel the layers from you—to unwrap you, have you splayed out on a surface in his home.

“You’re gawking.”

“Well, you’re a sight to look at.”

You just smirk. Face shifting, hiding any—if there is any—effect his words have. “Shut up, Morales. Get me my drink.”

It’s there, the semblance of normal. It thrummed, all intact, not yet ruined.

He wonders if this is a thing.

Briefly remembering that you were getting water when he’d caged you in the kitchen. Suddenly aware he can feel you close, a risk of turning around and being blocked in—an UNO-reverse.

“So,” you say, voice shaky, “H-how’s your week been?”

He swallows, filling the glass. Turning to find you loitering, hanging at the end of the counter—two steps, not quite three, away from him.

“S’alright. Just had to do a few intense lessons for a trip this couple has coming up,” he explains, your hand brushing his, sparks shooting up his arms as you take the glass.

“Do you prefer giving lessons now or?”

Frankie isn’t such what he prefers.

His mind addled, broken. It crumbles at the edges and works its way in—because he’s not sure if he can see the peaks of your nipples through your shirt. Not sure if the water droplets on your lips will ever dry without his tongue brushing over them.

A want in him to kiss you, to test if your lips are as soft a second time, a third. Whether you make the same noises, or if he can unlock more from you this time—whether there are levels to you, achievements.

You’ve always been a puzzle, an unexplainable thing. Not there one second, then there forever another. The best part of his days, the thing he thinks of when he’s knees deep in mud, sand in his eyes and coated in so much rain he isn’t sure whether he begins and the weather starts. A person he craves being close to, taking whatever he’ll get. Grateful for the thigh against thigh in small booths, that you grip his arm when you laugh at his sarcasm—when you curl into him on the sofa during a movie you’d rather stop watching.

Then there’s the times he’s made your eyes fill with water. The time he made your eyes mist up, filling with a different kind of tears when you’d collided into him after Colombia, murmuring into his shoulder that you’d been worried, oh so worried—but, neither of you had unpacked that. Never daring, never wishing to.

There’s a lot the two of you don’t unpack. Stuffing it down silently, placing it in a box the two of you tape up together and pretend to ignore.

Now, you’re standing next to him, eyes glazed over, sparkling—inviting. Your lips curling into your cheek, all mischievous, unreadable.

“What’re you thinking, querida?”

“That I’ve had a shit day—week, actually—and I want you to fuck my throat.”

He’s stunned. Feeling his eyes widen, his throat dry, chest tighten. All at once. The time to think on it doesn’t arrive, not when your hand is dragging his lips to yours—not that he wants to protest. His hold tightening to say as much, driving you on—your kisses growing more intense, bolder. The pressure increases as Frankie willingly parts his lips, mouth doused with mint—that same taste he knows from the gum you always have in your car.

Your name escapes his lips, more of a moan—whispered, swallowed. Smothered quickly by your smiling mouth as you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip.

“Let me taste you, Frankie.”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. The request flowing from your mouth all easy, silky, almost velvety.

You repeat the sentiment as you stare up at him, getting down onto your knees—but this time you ask. Falling like silk: Can I taste you, Frankie? Will you fill my throat?

A part of him is distinctly aware of his legs being exposed to the air, fabric falling down to his calves. The rest of him is focused on the way you’re looking at him—like he moves mountains for you, like he’s everything. A look he’s sure he’s seen in glimpses, but now is swallowing him whole. 

And he likes it, almost lo—

“Never got to tell you,” you whisper, dragging his attention to you, fingers hooked in his underwear, dragging it down, freeing him, “You have such a pretty cock, Frankie. So big.” 

Your fingers digging into his thighs, your lips pressing a chaste kiss against the throbbing vein on the side of his length. 

He hisses when you finally wrap your lips around him, your mouth warm, all inviting. Tongue swirling around the head of his cock, the tip sliding over the slit as his hand cups the back of your head firmer, seeing your eyes flick up—a glimmer in your eyes that makes his heart do a double take. More so when you swallow to take more of him, jaw slack, prepared, ready.

“Shit, querida.”

You keep him pinned, feet planted, hand on the wall to the side of him and the other on the back of your neck. Taking him, as much as you can, your hand working the part you can’t yet fit. All heat, your tongue dragging along, swirling—and fuck he feels good, warmth stretching out through his thighs, embers biting at his lower stomach, all frantic to dance up his spine.

Then, your lips—all plush, slick with spit and him—glide down him, teeth lightly grazing down his shaft as you do.

And the moan he emits rips from him so quickly, he’s sure it leaves a mark in his throat. One which only further deepens when he hears you moaning around him, seeing you trying to shift on the floor, desperate for friction, for something, anything.

It makes his hips move, shifting with you, trying not to—not wanting to push, to have you spluttering, not when you look so good, so perfect, all mouth stretched around him.

“Y’so good, baby. Tan perfecta.”

You whimper at the praise. A thing he’s learnt about you—a thing he wants nothing more than to continue giving to you until nothing else lives in your head except his praise. His fingers sliding down the neck of your t-shirt, lightly massaging, gripping—

It forces itself out, another groan. Punching the air, yanking itself up from his throat as he wipes a tear from your cheek—him aiding, guiding himself down your throat, taking him much easier, better. It’s clear you’ve gone past your limits, swallowing him—desperately so—all enveloped and welcomed by the expanse of your throat.

“Doing so well,” he tells you, watching you, not able to take his fucking eyes from you.

How could he? When you’re such a vision.

Frankie admires the way you look up at him, lashes all tacky, cheeks shimmering with how much you want to do this. It makes a part of him want to pull you up from the floor, place you on any given surface and ruin you. The thought pushing him on, the noises you’d made under him, on top of him, in front of him, all coming back, immersing him.

Nothing exists, nothing mattering.

“So good—so good for me, baby.”

All he can feel is how he twitches against your tongue, how good your mouth is, how close he is—how much he wants nothing more than to coat your throat. Somehow claim you, even if you’re not his.

A thought he has to banish. Rid himself off.

Reminding himself that the small slot in your two’s calendar says otherwise, as he bucks into your mouth.

Your name falls feverishly from his lips, over and over until it’s swallowed by a groan—your tongue lapping up everything he’s giving you. The sight of you like this forces the fire to do more than dance or lick up his spine, it twists, it climbs—all purposeful in its ascent. Coating him in flames only you seem to make grow, an inferno, an intoxicating concoction he wants to bottle and brand in your name.

The sounds hitting the air are a mix of moans, groans and a wet sound as you work him, as you own him, consume him—trace your name into his cock. Something which makes him smug, pulling a smirk half-heartedly over his parted mouth. His whole body lit up, illuminated, so close, so near to filling your throat with him.

Another swirl. Another graze. The feel of him hitting the back of your throat—it’s too much, unable to stop himself, to hold himself in this moment, too close, so close—

Gone.

Pleasure floods him. Scratches its way through him. Bursts from somewhere deep and flows out, ripples—distantly aware he’s flooding your mouth, twitching in your throat, pulsing.

Opening his eyes, Frankie immediately casts his sight down to see his spend leaking from the edges of your mouth as you try to swallow as much of him as you can. Your name leaves his mouth raw, scratchy, gravelly, just as the warm space of your mouth is gone, thumb tracing your bottom lip, staring up at him as you swipe any remnants away with your tongue.

Still on your knees, eyes wide, dutifully waiting for further instruction—all for him.

He banishes away what a bad idea it is, helping you up off the floor, crashing his lips to yours—tasting salt mixed with mint. Fingers spreading over your lower back, balling up fabric, keeping you flush against him.

“Bedroom?”

“Bedroom,” you agree.

And he smirks, right against your mouth, before sliding his tongue in—hoping he can earn another moan, hoping it’ll be enough to blanket the thought that he doesn’t want this to end.

CHAPTER THREE ->

[peachesofteal]

Sugar daddy AU with Simon Riley where he owns a very big, very controversial weapons manufacturing business. He's a bit morally grey, a bit of a hot head, and a bit more than disgustingly wealthy. Keeps his friends close and his enemies closer. Wears the mask because he's infamous and on a dozen hit lists across the planet.

Maybe he meets you at a dinner where you're the catering server, working your second job of that day, feet dragging across the ballroom while you offer up little hors d'oeuvres on silver platters to the snooty ass guests. He watches you, watching them, your eyes cataloging every part and piece, anticipating their every move as you slide left and right to intercept them. He watches men and women slip you cash as you do them favors, bringing extra liquor from the bar, tracking down car keys from the valet, procuring a back up pair of tights. Interesting, he thinks. Intelligent, resourceful... beautiful.

Or he meets you when he's getting his morning coffee, where you're working your usual five to three, so dead on your feet that you make his order wrong, accidentally giving him half and half instead of oat milk. And, shit. What if he's got an allergy? So you YELL across the cafe at him as soon as you realize your mistake and he startles, before assuring you it's alright. He can't help but notice how the light streams in from the front windows and dances just right across your skin, or your hair, or the way it dances in your irises, your eyes wide with worry.

Maybe he meets you on the street, where you're trying to make the last train to get home after an awful day, but he steps in front of you, and you fall face first. Maybe a bunch of things spill out of your bag, and you burst into tears because you're so frustrated, and he tries to apologize but you wave him off. "Let me at least get you a cab." He tries but you tell him not to bother, that you'll just walk to the next station to get the other connector (that will put you on a very late arrival to home). You're stubborn, and independent, and very clearly do not want some weird man in a skull mask's charity. (Why is he wearing that thing anyway?)

Maybe, he starts making running into you a more regular thing. Maybe he starts to become obsessed with you. Maybe he puts a tail on you so he can learn your habits, your routines. So he can find out where you live, where you work out, what you do in your downtime. Maybe he learns you don't have any downtime, you're scraping along, scrapping out a life by any means necessary. Maybe he learns your apartment building isn't secure, doesn't even have a lock on the main entrance or a buzzer system. Maybe he worries. Maybe he becomes consumed with thoughts of you until he's "running into you accidentally" and asking you to lunch.

Or, maybe he doesn't do that. Maybe he just thinks about you a lot, thinks about you so much that he starts to drop by the coffee shop more frequently, or walks on that same block every day now, or hires that catering company for some frivolous company party. Maybe he tries really hard not to spook you, but fails and then delivers a spectacular apology where he convinces you to come to dinner, just one dinner, so he can make it up to you.

Maybe he plucks you out of working paycheck to paycheck just to pay the rent on your shitty, paper thin ground level apartment in the worse than bad part of the city you live in. And he doesn't want sex, doesn't want to press your body to his bed, doesn't want you to kiss him just because he pays your bills. Maybe he wants you to trust him. He wants you to feel safe with him, because he knows you've never had a second of security in your life. Maybe you fall for him. Maybe it's a slow burn. Maybe you have trust issues. Maybe he falls in love with you. Maybe he does something fucked up. Maybe you're hiding something. Maybe there's angst. (be real it's me there would be angst) Maybe there's a happy ending.

[monzamash]

not sure how comfortable you feel with writing smut for Kev, but this somehow reminded me of him

❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜

-💜

💜💜💜 warnings — mature themes (18+), barely proofread so apologies x

sweet baby kevin. he really is the most beautiful man, inside and out but that voice – so honeyed and soothing, airy in the blissful moments. the soft tone would lull you on those sleepless nights while the gruff edge his voice can carry stirs you awake in the morning with very little innocence in his intent.

you longed for the purrs of praise he trickled into your ear when his hips rutted restlessly, satisfying more than just the empty space in your heart with his love. letting him in scared you at first, the closeness after the hesitation. he was guarded, of course, his life wasn’t as black and white as yours – no strings attached, no extra baggage fee. the path to you had been so uncertain; every touch, every kiss felt like the last but he endured – and so did you. 

because you loved kevin the minute you laid eyes on him – all weary-eyed and taking out his frustration on his luscious blonde hair while guenther shouted every curse word under the sun at the team. it was an abysmal race and you still remember how deeply furrowed kevins' brow was, unsure that a smile existed under the bravado and the pressure until his eyes caught yours across the garage. the icy blue melted as fast as it had crystallised and the flecks of green that were only visible in natural light warmed his curious gaze – you couldn’t look away and he needed to know your name.

“who is she?”

“who is who?” guenther curtly replied, following his drivers’ eye, “oh.”

kevin smiled genuinely for the first time that weekend when he heard you were the teams new legal aid – so she’s smart, he assumed, beautiful and smart. he was right – you were both of those things and more he learned after secretly manufacturing time to get to know you. the late night contract questions and the early morning coffee run that always seemed to end with the two of you finding a quiet place amongst the travelling circus quickly became the highlight of your day.

he savoured the chance to see you smile, hoping that one day he would be the person you turned to in a crisis or when you simply needed a laugh – maybe he could even be the man you begged and pleaded with to make you come again. there was a part of him that ached to know what his name sounded like when you moaned it, how would it taste if he swallowed it? the thought of having you lathered in a state of ecstasy kept him awake most nights.

and it wasn’t a secret that you had other admirers besides kevin. lewis’ throw away comment in austin still haunted him – something about the way your hips swayed to the country song playing through the speakers and he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he’d missed the chance to see what else your hips could do.

kevin had a cruelly vivid dream that night – the same one he always had when he salaciously conjured you in his slumber. as soon as he felt your snug walls sheath his needy cock and the knot lying dormant in his stomach was so close to unravelling, his body would jolt awake, breathless and pathetically hard. the dream never lived up to what played over and over in his head but when he got a taste of the real thing, there was no going back.

“i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do.”

he blinked a couple of times to make sure you weren’t a figment of his imagination and planted a firm kiss to your flushed chest – long eyelashes tickled your skin as he mouthed at your neck with his sharp, misbehaving teeth, both hearts racing until his nose brushed against yours lovingly and captured your lips.

“who else would have me, baby? all I think about is you, all I feel is you…”

your comforting coos settled the sweet man panting above you, eyes filled with adoration. the angelic sight of you spread open, hair mussed and tangled slowed the momentum of his hips to a toe-curling rhythm, extorting a sharp breath from your burning lungs. he wanted to savour the feeling and the way you looked so beautifully contorted in pleasure as he sunk back in deep with a fierce kiss, alleviating the want stirring inside your stomach.

“i need you.”

“i’m right here, never going anywhere.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Forget-Me-Not 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki

Summary: You return to your childhood home to put the past to rest.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You spend the night on the couch. You don't go further than the bathroom. You can't bring yourself to check her bedroom or the one you left behind.

You go out to get your bag and change in the yellow haze glowing behind the faded curtains. You check the time. Jan is expecting you in an hour.

You emerge into the dewy morning and tramp down to ground level. You get in the car, reversing out without looking back at the dingy house. The final farewell can't come soon enough for the slanted walls.

Jan is out in the yard, hammering a pineboard as you drive down his lot. His white hair curls with the sweat beading on his skin. He stills the hammer and wipes his forehead as you pull up. 

You get out as he greets you in the way all the villagers do. A manufactured friendliness that cannot erase their true judgement. They smile in face just as easily as the mutter your name under their breath. You mother harboured little good will in Hammer Ford and blood is sacred here.

“Sorry to hear,” he says.

“Matter of time,” you shrug dismissively.

“Isn't no way to come home,” he shakes his head and coughs into his fist, “walnut,” he points the hammer over his shoulder, “like ya said.”

Walnut, like the dining table. Where she sat and drank herself into that box. You nod and follow him over to the casket. The hinges are brass and the finish is rough. What does it matter? It's just going into the dirt.

“Got cash,” you say. Jan doesn't deal with the bank, everyone knows that. Funny the little things that stick with you.

“Thanks,” he accepts the bills as you count them out. So much for a rainy day. The sun shine bright as if mocking the grin affair beneath its watch. “I'll have it taken down to Norn's.”

“Yep,” you agree, “she's there.”

You head out without further niceties. Neither of you uphold those. Better to say what you mean and nothing else.

You get to the property line and idle. You turn away from the woods. You're not ready to go back yet. 

You stop by the church first. Father Oswald sits with you to discuss the ceremony. You'll say a few words at the grave site. You don't think anyone would come to a wake. You don't want them to.

You set off again, still reluctant to retrace your steps. You drive to the spare core of the village and park outside the library. You cross the street and peer in through the window of the bakery. It wasn't there when you left.

You venture inside and peruse the sweets behind the glass. You order a black coffee and a cinnamon bun. You pay the woman behind the counter, vaguely familiar. You're certain she was a few years behind you at school.

You sit and pick at the glazed dough. You don't have much of an appetite. You don't feel much of anything. You're just wading through, try not to get lost in the tide.

You sip the coffee. Bold but rich. Not bad. Better than the instant powder gone stale in your mother's cupboard.

The door opens and shuts, several times over as you stare at the table. The city taught you apathy. You don't let the noise bother you.

The chair across from you slides out and a figure plants themselves on the seat. You raise your head, your vision narrowing to make sense of their features. You turn your head to gaze out the window as Loki blows over the top of a mug. 

You slide out your phone, a defence mechanism. Still no reception. You put it down and keep your attention diverted. He clears his throat and taps his toe next to yours.

“You know, I do have an important matter to discuss with you,” he says.

You don't react. You know that's what he wants. That's why he showed up the night before. He undoubtedly insisted on being his clan’s representative.

“You've sent your condolences.”

“Mm, yes, but that isn't what I mean,” he traces his finger up the handle of his mug. “The house.”

You lower your brows and keep your eyes beyond the window. The village moves slow as ever. Not like the endless flow of the city streets. There's no where to hide here.

“My father has an offer. The property has value.”

You check your cup, almost empty. You swig the last of it. You stand and gather the cup and unfinished dessert. You put the porcelain on the counter and toss the cinnamon bun on your way out.

The door doesn't close behind you. He's following you. Your heartbeat piques. In an instant, you're hurled into the past. You're running through broken twigs as he snickers behind you. You ball your hands as your breath hitches.

You cross the street without looking, only just dodging a bumper. You go to your car, fumbling with your keys. Before you can stick them in the slot, there's a snare around your arm.

You spin and shove Loki off of you, biting down on a shriek. You glare at him and point the key at his chin.

“Not interested.”

“My father will give you more than the bank,” he counters. 

“Don't care.”

He sniffs and quorks his head, “is this because I never called?”

You choke on a scoff. You turn and ram the keys in the slot and twist. You open the door as you step around it. The edge hits him as you swing into the driver’s seat.

“The house is worthless. The bank will give you pennies for the land.”

“Go tell your daddy you failed,” you sneer and yank the door shut, hitting the lock with your fist.

You start the engine without a glance in his direction. You pull put as he barely avoids getting his toes run over. Just as ever, this village belongs to the Odinsons. They won't have to pay the bank much to get what they want but you will never sign your name next to theirs.

[skopostheorie]

I normally don't talk about stuff of this nature and least of all on Tumblr where there are like three active users but here.

UniMelb, my university, is having an occupation right now of one of our buildings, by students protesting UniMelb's alleged ties with weapons manufacturers currently being used by Israel. It's called Arts West and as the name implies a lot of Arts subjects are held there. My German, Korean, Chinese and Japanese classes all have at least one held there a week. This is an escalation of the encampment after the protesters provided an ultimatum (cut ties or we won't talk to you anymore).

Classes in the building were cancelled because of this occupation, citing safety concerns. The University has not helped teachers find new rooms, to my knowledge. My German teacher held the class outside, and all the others are online. The Aussie media is having a lot of fun with this, as I believe this is the biggest protest in the country of this nature since October 7.

The media is not being honest.

What's being said: the students seized the building violently.

The truth: they just kind of went in there and sat down. There are a few tents.

What's being said: the students are threatening people.

The truth: to my knowledge, no one has been threatened. Avi Yemeni and some cronies came to harass them around two weeks ago, and another group threw bottles, fire extinguishers and other projectiles at the protesters, but no retaliation has occured so far, as far as I have heard.

What's being said: classes were cancelled because of the occupation.

The truth: this is true, but the protesters have repeatedly said that anyone may enter and have class. I have been in the building several times to test this out, and no one even spoke to me, let alone told me to leave. I made a little coffee in the kitchen here:

The University has turned off the lifts and taped them, as well as locked the doors. I am not sure why one of them remains open, but I am led to believe the protesters opened it so people could come and go as they pleased.

Since the beginning the little "front desk tent" has had a massive "Palestinians and Jews in solidarity" sheet across it. All the propaganda stickers by them are of a similar nature: one says "Not in our name, Jews for a free Palestine", and another says "Palestinian and Jewish solidarity" with a dove on it. They hold Shabbat there as well. They also do the call to prayer for Dhuhr, and possibly all of the prayers, but I'm not on campus for Fajr, Isha etc (for obvious reasons).

I don't want people reading the news and thinking being at UniMelb is hectic right now. It's really fine. Nobody even really talks about it much. Classes in other buildings are quite normal.

[txttletale]

hiii! (hope you're having a great day)

I'm genuinely confused right now about the call out post and the answers you're giving about it

I'm seeing in the call out that the person is talking about a theory of internal colonies and you're not really addressing it in your responses

The posts you're making about the whole situation are coherent and I do agree with them so I am asking genuinly if you could "debunk"? (not sure how to ask that better) the whole internal colony thing because it seems to be the point of disagreement and i'm not seeing clearly here :,,(

i mean 'the call out post' in question is just a comprehensive list of anyone who has ever interacted with tumblr user mozilla-firefucks so i'm not really interested in engaging with it or acknowleding it because i think it is quite silly.

as for the central question / discourse itself -- i am indeed familiar with the theory of the internal colony! i think it is a useful theoretical tool capable of providing useful analysis. but the argument that the internal colony model of usamerican antiblackness precludes Black usamericans from being beneficiaries of usamerican imperialism in any way isn't true. 'colonialism' and 'imperialism' are sets of economic relations, not intrinsic attributes. you do not have a spiritual aura or code flag setting you as 'imperialist' or 'imperialised'. and imperialism is not one monolithic relation either, right, it is comprised of multiple sets of overlapping and interconnected relations, such that you can have multiple different relations to imperialism in different contexts.

as such, it's not denying the brutality of usamerican (or indeed global) antiblackness to point out that Black usamerican citizens continue to be usamerican citizens. this does not protect them from antiblackness, nor is it a moral failing on their part (benefiting from imperialism is simply a result of interfacing with the consumer market that broadly benefits from imperialism -- it's not an accusatory finger saying 'you did an imperialism'), nor is 'beneficiary of' in anyway synonymous with 'perpetrator of' or 'perpetuator of' of.

but i've already discussed how, for example, the simple fact of being able to buy a cheap banana is the direct result of usamerican imperialism. the same is true for coffee, chocolate, or gas, commodities which are kept monstrously cheap for the usamerican market via brutal exploitation and military intervention in the global south. or, for example, any cheap good with 'made in china' or 'made in vietnam' on it, because manufacturing capital has been exported to those countries because of unequal exchange. and people who buy these cheap products are benefiting in that moment from usamerican imperialism -- which again is neither a moral judgement nor a negation or denial of any of the ways that the USA might oppress those people.

so i don't know -- i feel like the core disagreements are either a misunderstanding of what it means to benefit from imperialism, or a or a dualist interpretation of imperialism / colonialism, where one can only be 'colonizer' or 'colonized' in totality across all systems conceived of as one totalizing whole machine of omnidirectional imperialism with a strict hard line between beneficiaries and sufferers. and at the end of the day it just doesn't work like that

[darling-i-read-it]

My Dulcinea

Luis Serra Navarro x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,3k

Warnings: re4 remake spoilers, lil bit of angst, canon level violence/zombies, talk of science being used for evil motives 

Author’s Note: hello my love I hope this is what you had in mind! I really wanted to write for Luis and I’m soooo happy I got to. I would be totally open to doing more with him <3 he’s such a sweetie <3 that being SAID i do not speak spanish, my high school teachers were not the greatest. Apologizes if the parts I attempted to do were laughably bad. I hope you enjoy love! 

Requested: by @astupidlover, Luis and the reader are two former scientists at umbrella, their relationship is a little complicated I mean the reader is a quiet and hardworking person while Luis is talkative and persistent, but he is in love with her, after the reader found out about the biological weapon manufactured by the company she quit and worked as a spy in multiple companies, she kept hearing the news of Luis because she could not leave him, but the thunder of the Raccoon City incident disappeared him, but she kept looking for him...She allied with agent Leon Kennedy between rescuing the president's daughter and finding him in the last refuge she has to look for him or surrender...she found him and they had to fix a troubled past between them(if you have a question I'm open to answering):)

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Your lab coat was stained. You noticed it as you looked at yourself in the mirror with bags under your eyes. You had haphazardly tossed it off when you went to bed the night before. Sometimes your hours were neverending, akin to that of a doctor even though you didn’t have any patients. Well, you didn’t have any living patients that is. All of the ones you passed by you were dead or soon to be undead. 

There was a red stain on the wrist of your left arm. Proof of the night before, of the experiments that continued relentlessly. Umbrella’s Europe facility was vast and you often wondered why you had landed there. You were among people who didn’t know what they were researching any more than you did. 

You folded your sleeve up, hoping to ignore it until you had the brain power to deal with it. You left the bathroom and returned to the sterile work area. You made sure your hair was pulled out of your face as you entered your normal work space. It was a medium sized room, housed by you and your colleague Luis. Your personalities complimented each other, despite the severity of them. You tended to quietly work, your head doing all your talking. Luis, while brilliant, wanted to talk through everything. He would ask your opinion and then the banter would begin, even when you didn’t intend for it to. 

“You’re late,” Luis said in a sing-song voice. He was already sitting at his desk. There was a half-drunk cup of coffee there beside him. More than once he’s mixed that cup up with other substances. Today he had the caffeine in a bright red mug so that he could tell the difference. “Sleep finally catch up to you Dulcinea?” You smiled a bit at the nickname. It was apparently one of the characters from Don Quixote. He had told you the story of it as though he wrote it himself but truth be told, you weren’t always paying attention. 

“My bed was just so comfortable,” you promised. He leaned forward, taking off his protective glasses so you could see his eyes. You stood across the table from him. 

“I would love to second that statement. Do you think I could create my own experiment to verify?” You rolled your eyes, though your smile remained. Working with Luis was like this. You were glad not to be stuck with some of the other people in the building, stoic and all business. You wondered what you would look like beside them, if you would meld into their bland personalities. 

Luis kept you interesting. 

“Maybe someday Luis.” 

“I didn’t hear a no.” You narrowed your eyes at him. He had the lovesick puppy look again, the one you adored so much. You saw it at work frequently when you both avoided actually working. These days, the cause didn’t seem so exciting. It never seemed clear. Who were you making this for? 

“Back down dog,” you teased. He chuckled lowly and leaned back down in his chair. He put his glasses back down, looking back at what he was doing. You opened up some of your files and what you were working on the day before. In an instant the mood shifted. Luis could only bring so much light into a room with so much dread. 

The pictures alone sent a chill down your spine. 

The nagging at the back of your head returned. 

What was this worth? 

“Progress was made yesterday,” you said, dryly. You weren’t sure why you were talking about it. It was a Luis move, to talk yourself through something. But you said it anyway. He raised his head. 

“Good progress or bad progress?” When he met your eyes he knew the answer. He nodded solemnly. There wasn’t much Luis Serra couldn’t make a joke of but this was one of those rare instances he was silent. “We could always run away princesa.” He had been nagging at you about it. He was nearing the end of his rope too. 

You thought about the other people in the other rooms. Did they feel the same?

“Yeah,” you muttered. You looked back down to the pictures. “Do you ever just want to go home?”

“Use your vacation days, no?” You shook your head. 

“Just go back home and stay there.” There was something comforting about a place you could return to that had to accept you. The more you starred at the parasite the more you craved something more familiar. What would it have been like if Luis and you had met in a bar instead, careless and free? 

“Valdelobos has never been that forgiving to me,” he admitted. 

“There was nothing good about it?” There was a short pause as you imagined he remembered the good things. He had told you about the death of his grandfather and how much he enjoyed spending time with him. 

“It was too small,” he said. He shook his head and smiled softly, reminiscing. “I used to hunt with my abuelo. He would tell me stories, the most hermosas historias…” He shook his head. “He died when I was young. He would’ve liked you, he liked beautiful women.” You laughed a bit. “I’ll go back eventually.” 

“Good.” You nodded, thinking of your own home. There was a future out there for both of you that wasn’t stuck within these white walls. “Me too.” 

-

Umbrella’s European Facility was no longer the place you had hoped it would be. You were stuck in the neverending worry of dying for a cause you didn’t understand, let alone believe in. 

When you wiggled your way out you did it silently. You did it by slowly packing your bags, by keeping the boxes random, by moving them without suspicion. The last day you went to work you gave no indication that you would never be coming back. 

You felt bad. 

Luis’s eyes were the same as the day you had met him and you didn’t want to leave him behind. His alluring promises of leaving had gotten to your head and you only hoped they would get to his as well. You left him with nothing except a note in your files, all the things you left with loose ends, a small apology note and the imprint of your lipstick on a napkin. You thought he might appreciate it. Hopefully it would curb his frustration to know that you felt the same way about him that he felt about you. 

You worked quietly after that. In silence as you followed Umbrella’s otherwise inconspicuous work. You told people what you knew without leaving your name behind. You promised that you had never meant for it to get that bad, that you never wanted to use science like that. You never wanted to use your brain like that. 

You thought of Luis often. You thought of him when you heard a particularly funny joke. You thought of him when you saw a charming smile or when someone made a pass at you. There was never going to be another Luis Serra. 

Then Raccoon City happened and everything was put under a magnifying glass. Amongst those who had been subpoenaed publicly, Luis was not one of them. You could only hope he made it out of there alive before everything went down. You grappled with your work being done in such a violent manner. 

-

“You ready?” 

Leon’s voice was low. You were looking at the village home in front of you, wondering who had lived in it. It wasn’t the first time you had been swept up in something you hadn’t meant to. You sought out to save the world with science and now you were standing with a gun in the middle of Spain. 

“Yeah. Yeah sorry.” A gun had never been your forte. Your friendship with Leon blossomed as he lived through the Raccoon City incident and you offered insider information on Umbrella. The government sent the both of you through training. You would be physically dealing with your consequences and help Leon make sense of the world around him as you did so. 

He had hardened throughout the years you had known him. This wasn’t your first time you were together on something dangerous and it would likely not be the last. 

“I can’t believe you got roped into this,” he grumbled, leading. He had his hand on his gun, though he hadn’t pulled it out of the holster yet. “This was supposed to be a one man job. Limit as much reaction from the locals as you can.” 

“Guess they just wanted me to keep you in check,” you offered. You found your own voice had lost some of its life as well. How long would you and Leon be doing this? 

Though this time, you weren’t being truthful with him. You had heard him talking about it, briefly, and how he would be going to Spain to find something. You had no idea it was the President’s daughter when you insisted on tagging along. 

Valdelobos.

A place you had only heard of before, one that you had barely been able to find on a map. Luis’s home was a place you had only imagined through his words. You didn’t actually think you would find him here but you would be lying if you said your own agenda had nothing to do with coming here with Leon. 

Your conversation had been scarce leading up to where you currently were. There was so much to talk about but little to actually say about all of it. It just was. Leon opened the door with his flashlight. 

It was black inside. Your eyes adjusted to the large objects within. 

“Where’d the lights go?” he questioned dryly. 

“Power must’ve blown with everyone’s sanity,” you suggested. You pushed past him to see what was inside. There was no obvious movement. Leon moved around behind you. You had grown accustomed to his footsteps, knowing how they sound on different types of ground. You would never mistake Leon for someone coming to kill you.

As you entered another room, lighter from the sunlight, you saw different science equipment on the table. You squinted as you looked over it. Viles and a microscope had been discarded on the table. Beside it was a picture frame that was face down. You picked it up.

A little boy and his grandfather, from the looks of it. You didn’t want to think it was him but that’s where your brain went. The guitar hanging from the fireplace didn’t help your case. What if this had been Luis’s home? What if this had been the places he told you stories about, the place where he was raised? 

“Hey,” he called. You turned back around, shaking your thoughts. You had to focus. Leon had moved a bookshelf out of the way and was kneeling down. There was a hatch just next to the stairs. He undid it, opening it up. With it came a cloud of dust, as well as the smell of decay. He looked up at you. 

“Ladies first,” you joked as you approached. He kept his expression straight as he stood up. 

“I got your six,” he promised. 

“Always!” you said as you jumped down. You landed with a huff. It was dark, even more consumed with the black now that there were no windows. You could hear a soft movement further down the hallway. Could you even call it that? It was more like a long crypt. You raised your flashlight. A body was moving at the other end, though it was completely wrapped up in some kind of bag. 

“See anything?” Leon called. 

“Yeah. Just one person, tied up. Gimme a sec.” 

“Want me to come down?”

“I’m okay.” 

You approached slowly and with caution. You knelt beside the wiggling person and undid the top rope. A face emerged from the bag, tape over his mouth. 

You recognized each other at the same time as he stopped his muffled scream for help and became uncharacteristically quiet. You ripped off the tape. He groaned out of pain but quickly got over it. 

“Dulcinea?” 

“Luis,” you breathed. You were right. You knew he would be here. 

“What are you doing here?” he questioned. Words stumbled out of your mouth. 

“Looking for you,” you said honestly. His eyes clouded over with some adoration mixed with anger. He opened his mouth to speak again but this time his eyes floated behind you. “Joder, not this guy!” You followed his gaze but was quickly taken out of your senses by a larger than life man. He picked you up by the waist and threw you across the room. 

Pain shot across from you like it was individually searching through your veins. You weren’t able to raise your head. Where was Leon? Your worry became overwhelming and you passed out.

-

Your senses took over before your brain had caught up. You were disoriented, desperately trying to search for the last memory you had. Your eyes opened slowly. Your vision was blurry. You were sitting down, against a hard surface. 

It took you about ten seconds to start to panic. Unable to move your hands was the last straw in realizing what had happened. You surveyed the room in front of you, happy to see that the only people there were Leon and Luis. They were both standing, hands above their heads, connected by some sort of chain mechanism. 

Luis was moving his hands down. Leon was still limp on the other side. You were tied to a support beam with rope. Luis turned to look at you, his face tight with concentration. 

You got a good look at him. 

He didn’t look all that different from what you remembered. You had lunch a couple times when you worked together but you usually saw him in his lab coat. Seeing him in jeans and a leather jacket was a nice change of pace. 

Seeing him at all was a breath of fresh air. You were still reeling that he was alive, in front of you, back home. 

“Welcome to mi casa,” he groaned. He turned his head, a sly smile on his face. “Sorry I didn’t clean, I wasn't expecting visitors.” You shook your head. For a moment you forgot you were tied to a beam and tried to move forward to him. He titled his head. There was something solemn about it. 

“How long have you been here?” 

“Is that all you want to ask me?” 

“Are you okay?” you asked instead. 

“Could be better.” He glanced forward, his eyes shifting. His eyes then remained on yours. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered. “I never thought I’d see you again, Dulcinea.” 

“I’ve been looking,” you promised. “This isn’t exactly the easiest place to find on the map.” 

“You need a magnifying glass,” he said, quietly. Leon stood up straight, waking up with a start. He looked up at his hands and pulled them down. 

“Oh, what the fuck?” he muttered. Luis’s arms pulled above his head. 

“Hey, stop it!” Leon looked around and moved his arms so that he was facing Luis. 

“This yanqui got a name?” Luis questioned, turning around. 

“Leon,” you said. Leon turned to look at you as he started to weigh the options he had with the chain. 

“Why didn’t you get attached to this guy?” Leon questioned as he walked around, surveying his options. 

“Leon, this is Luis.” He stopped, only briefly. He looked between the two of you. 

“You two know each other?” he grumbled. 

“One could say that,” Luis said. “So did we pick the wrong spot to vacation, eh?” Leon moved quickly to the side. “Hey, stop it! You move, I move and I’m beat up enough as it is.” Leon looked up at the wheel keeping them together. Luis raised an eyebrow. “I see you’re thinking. Bet you’ve been in spots like this before, eh?” 

Your natural instinct was to roll your eyes but you couldn’t explain the warmth his sly voice gave you. 

“Lemme guess. You’re here looking for someone?” 

“Luis,” you warned.

“Me perhaps? Or maybe some missing senorita?” Leon stopped pulling. “A young girl?” He turned, ears perked up. He pulled down on the chain, pulling Luis towards him. 

“Talk. Now.” 

“See, heard chatter about moving a senorita.”

“Moving her. Where?” Leon questioned. He let Luis go. 

“Who knows? But later, saw some men dragging someone…to the old church.” They moved to even out the chain. They pulled down together with a grunt. Luis fell but Leon kept his balance. “Mierda.” 

“Woah!” you called, moving towards the incoming violent villager. 

Leon pulled Luis forward and they evened out the chain so that it was wrapped around the slashing villain. You watched, helplessly, as they pulled tightly to break the man's neck. The force knocked Luis and the limp man down beside you. Luis sat up, reaching for the key. You put your foot on it, making eye contact with him. 

“You’re not going anyway,” you argued. “I just found you.” Luis pressed his lips together. 

“Try not to be so eager,” he said. 

“Untie me.” 

“Why, when we could have so much fun with you tied?” You rolled your eyes. His sarcasm dissipated. “Oh my Dulcinea,” he whispered. Leon groaned, moving your foot over to grab the key. Luis moved forward, hands still bound, and untied you. 

“Where’s the old church?” Leon questioned. 

“We’re trying to have a heartfelt reunion yanqui,” Luis argued. You clenched your hands to get the blood flowing again. 

“You can be heartfelt as we walk.” 

“Leon,” you said, sternly. You weren’t often hard with him. He was in charge here, you were reserved to the job you were required to do. This was Luis. 

“We’re on a time crunch,” he retorted. You shook your head and Luis helped you up. He eyed the two of you, wondering why you were truly here. The last he had seen you, you were a quiet scientist, doing what you thought was good from behind closed doors. You were never one to grab a gun and march out into the fight. He imagined your friend was that type though. How close of friends were you?

“Can you take us there?” you asked. 

“It would usually cost a pretty penny, but for you princesa, I’ll waive the fee.” You nodded once, glad to have him back. You had emotions to work through but right now you were taking a page out of Leon’s book. Ignore it until you had a minute to breathe. 

-

The abandoned factory was unforgiving and tortuous. You followed Luis as he led, never quietly, trying to find the safest way to the church. He had gotten good with a gun. Maybe he had always been good. You couldn’t decide. 

Eventually you came to a fork in the road. A key was needed to move further on and that key was quite safely guarded behind an army of infected villagers. Luis was ready for another fight, always excited to be part of the action, but Leon insisted on scoping it out on his own while the two of you stayed back to see if there was another way around. 

If there was, you’d go get him. Easy as that. 

You thought he was just getting fed up with Luis but didn’t want to leave him alone. You couldn’t blame him. Luis would leave the second he could, you could feel it. 

You backtracked to the factory itself as Leon trudged forward. 

It smelled of rats and dried blood. Iron hung in the air from the disregarded projects. It had been forgotten long ago, perhaps longer than the village had been infected. 

“I take it Leon wanted us to have a moment to catch up, no?”

“I think Leon got annoyed with us,” you offered instead. You had been waiting for a moment alone this whole time. You wanted to beg for forgiveness but you weren’t sure where to start. The guilt of leaving him behind was strong. 

You came to a stop in the middle of a larger room. Luis almost ran into you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. Your voice was hard. 

“Lo siento, what are you sorry for?” He took a step back but you were still so close. 

You never thought you would see him again. The desire to touch him was fueled by the delusions you held in your memories. How life could’ve been different if you had met in different circumstances. If you had just met when you were still young and free, without being tied to a traumatic future.

“For leaving you without saying anything. I thought about coming and getting you so many times,” you admitted. As you started you found that your words just continued. They had been wanting to come out since you left him the imprint of your lipstick. “I wanted you to come with me but I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t shake that we were doing something wrong.” You remembered what it was like to be optimistic and young, to pretend that the world was better than it was.  

“Dulcinea-”

“No, please let me finish.” You took a deep breath and straightened your shoulders. “I’ve been looking for you ever since. I was so scared to find you in the rubble of Raccoon City. Leon survived that, as a police officer. I thought helping him and whoever he was receiving orders from, would help you in the end. I just wanted to make it back to you, to make sure you were okay. I’m so sorry.” 

His face had softened. 

There was a deep understanding in his eyes, mixed with something else. Guilt or pain\. You couldn’t put your finger on it. 

“You don’t have to feel sorry for that,” he offered. “Though, you should feel sorry that you only left me with a paper kiss.” You couldn’t help but smile slyly. 

“It’s never too late to fix that one.” He met your eyes, that smug smirk on his face. He was the man you had talked to about your life and your future. How had you two gotten stuck in the middle of doom like this? You could’ve been scientists in a little suburban home, chasing around little ones and the dog in the backyard. 

That was the life Luis Serra deserved. 

He leaned in, kissing you with precision. He had no reserves and didn’t hold back. His head tilted, hand on your cheeks as he held you close to him. The kiss felt like it was a desperate attempt to bring back that life you could’ve had. You threw your arm around his neck and gripped his jacket with the other. 

“I’m sorry I let you go,” he whispered against your lips. An apology that had been hanging on his tongue for years. He should’ve been there with you the entire way. 

“I’m sorry that this has happened to your home,” you countered. He shook his head. 

“I told you Valdelobos was never that forgiving.” He brushed your hair out of your face, just happy to now have permission to touch you. He held your face. He was so handsome, staring at you like you were the world. “You saw my home. Not too shabby, eh?” You smiled. 

“I’m sure it was beautiful once upon a time.”

“What, you don’t like what I’ve done with the place?” 

“I’ve got the key!” 

Leon’s voice carried through the small buildings' rooms. They echoed off the forgotten walls and found their way back to you. 

“So you and Senor Kennedy are amigos yeah? Nada mas?” You rolled your eyes. 

“Nada mas,” you repeated. Hearing you speak Spanish made him want to kiss you silly. You grabbed Luis’s hand and kissed the back of it before heading back. He brushed the back of your hair as you walked before letting you go. 

It took him a few steps to continue on. 

This deal with Ada had to work. 

It had to. 

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 13: Sky Walking

Chapter Word Count: 5,435

TW

1) Mouse has Trauma 2) Use of drugs. Smoke weed everyday. Leafblower Special. 3) Mouse disassociates for a while 4) Mentions of ODing / Childhood Trauma / Cops suck in this story. (read at your own discretion) 5) Mouse and Someone else in SVT trauma bond. 6) At the beginning, Mouse goes through the numb depression motions.

Master List | Prev | Next

You didn’t get a single moment of rest. Each time you closed your eyes, the feeling of dried blood that you knew wasn’t there clung to your hands and the image of Mingyu’s body on the table as you gave him CPR flashed. The continuous beating line on the heart monitor gave you reassurance as the time passed. 

Just as Jeonghan said, Jihoon and him switched off duties of coming to check on Mingyu and change out bags of saline when the previous one was finished. At some point you gave up counting how often they came, staying curled up in your seat, glad to have the blanket wrapped around you in the cold room. Both had asked if you needed anything and each time you shook your head, falling deeper and deeper into your thoughts. 

He was going to be okay, you had a good feeling in your chest about it. He’d wake up and try to play everything off and act like he was fine when he was in a lot of pain. He’d complain that everyone’s cooking was subpar compared to his but would eat every last piece of it to make them happy. Maybe he’d let you cook for him and show off what you thought were pretty good cooking skills to give him well rounded meals during his recovery. Mingyu would need all the rest he could get before even stepping foot out of the house, knowing they’d take him back to the house to recover comfortably in his own bed. 

When the door opened next, you turned, thinking you’d see Jeonghan since Jihoon had checked in last, but Seungcheol stood at the doorway with a paper bag in one hand and a tray with two coffee cups in the other. He had changed from the suit he had on last night into dark jeans and an oversized gray sweater. Sitting up, you gave him a curious look but didn’t voice any question. He lumbered his way to the seats still across the bed from you and slid into one, placing the items he brought on one of the other chairs. 

“It’s six in the morning.” His deep voice was full of fatigue, the bags under his eyes dark. He didn’t look like he slept. “Seokmin grabbed your coffee order and a bagel.” Seungcheol lifted the paper bag and pulled one bagel out before handing the bag to you. Once the bag was in your hand, he took the coffee cup and passed it over. Hesitantly, you released Mingyu’s hand, you didn’t let go of it once throughout the night since you sat down. 

The hot cup felt amazing against your cold fingers. Taking a quick sip, it burned your mouth but it was too good to stop. The warmth spread through your limbs and your shoulders relaxed. 

“Seokmin put in that you both were sick and needed a few days off. Wonwoo manufactured some doctor’s notes.” 

“Thank you.” 

He grunted in response, drinking his own cup, letting his eyes land on Mingyu. “Anything?” 

With a quick shake of your head, you pulled your knees to your chest, using one hand to move the blanket around you. “Nothing. He’s breathing fine, he took two units of blood in total, heart rate hasn’t faltered all night.” 

“Did you get any sleep?” 

Pausing, you were going to answer but closed your mouth, chewing on your bottom lip. “I could ask the same of you.” 

“Touche…”

“Did anyone else?” You asked, sipping from your cup once more. 

Seungcheol sighed out a heavy breath. “Most of them passed out from exhaustion. Seokmin fell asleep in a chair, Soonyoung was curled up on the floor with all the couch pillows with Chan knocked out last I checked. Vernon took Seungkwan back to the penthouse once they left so hopefully they got some sleep. Joshua, Jeonghan, Wonwoo, and Jihoon are all passed out on the couches we have up in the office. I think Minghao and Junhui went back to the penthouse too, but I doubt they got any sleep.” 

“Does this…” You didn’t know how to word it. “Does stuff like this happen often?” 

“What, getting shot? We try not to make it a constant thing.” A smidge of humor was in his tired words. “Last one was Jihoon about a year ago. He was helping break up a fight in Ruby and the asshole had a gun and it misfired in the struggle.”  

Forcing out a breath, you nodded, shaking the mental image away. You thought of Jihoon in a similar situation as Mingyu last night and your already lost appetite was gone tenfold. Trying your best to mask the discomfort, you drank the coffee and focused back on Mingyu’s breathing. It seemed Seungcheol was doing the same, nibbling on a piece of the bagel he got and sipping his coffee. It wasn’t often you two ended up in the same place alone, usually someone was accompanying you at the house. 

“Oh-” You just remember that he literally had you brought over last night to speak with him. Seungcheol perked up. “Why was I needed last night?” 

Blinking a few times, his face contorted, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed together, and a confused look on his face. “Uh- Oh! Right, I was going to inform you about the Gala. It’s in a month. Jeonghan said he had some things planned and would handle everything before you were brought to the house to get dressed before we all leave.” 

“I feel like I should be scared of whatever he has planned.” You snort out a quiet laugh. 

“Personally, I would be scared.” 

You both shared a short laugh that mellowed into silence again. Though you never touched the bagel, you continued with the coffee, hoping it would keep you awake as long as possible. 

Many of the guys visited throughout the day. Seungcheol had left, saying he had a few things to get done upstairs and to call if you needed anything. Jeonghan only came in once to change a saline bag and push a few vitamins to aid in the healing process. He said he’d be back later and ruffled your hair like he did the previous night. 

First it was Chan and Wonwoo who mostly sat with you and brought up stories that Mingyu was in. Chan spoke about him like he was part superhero and Wonwoo played along, making the story out bigger than it probably was. They stayed for a good hour and you enjoyed the company to fill the void that was building inside of you. Chan had given Mingyu’s hand a big squeeze and smiled, but his voice wavered when he asked for him to wake up soon, that it was getting too quiet without his loud, boisterous personality awake. Wonwoo had kept any comments to himself, but you saw him bow his head in prayer before leaving with Chan. 

Seungkwan and Vernon only stopped in for a bit, clearly exhausted but dressed for whatever they needed to get done for the day. These two were relatively quiet in their visit, asking if you got any sleep which you brushed off and they didn’t give that straight of an answer when you asked in return. Vernon made a comment that they’d visit once they were done later in the day. Both had asked you to give them a call if anything was to change regarding Mingyu’s condition, which you easily agreed to. 

The largest horde was Soonyoung barging in in the afternoon, followed by Seokmin, Minghao, Junhui, and Jihoon, but the last man was really coming in for his given task. Junhui had made food for everyone earlier and brought extra for you, saying he heard from Chan that you were staying until Mingyu was awake. Though you took the container of food, you only placed it aside, letting it join the bagel bag from earlier, saying that you’d eat it later when you got hungry. It was the best white lie you could tell at this time, not wanting to worry them too much. Many of them were dressed in what you assumed was their ‘ dark side’ attire, thick boots, dark clothes, all the works.

Seokmin was eyeing you a good majority of the time he was there but he didn’t say anything if you looked bad. You more than likely did look disheveled, your lip was bitten to the point it bled earlier but it dried over and hurt. He only said he’d come back later to keep you company, giving you a side hug before they slipped out one by one. 

Then it was quiet again. You were left alone again to your own devices and thoughts. Truthfully you couldn’t think straight, images and memories bounced around your mind, they were close to sending you into a downward spiral but you willed away the mental torment to the best of your abilities. You didn’t feel hungry, at this point you didn’t even feel tired. Your limbs were numb and no matter if you tucked further in the blanket, you were still cold. 

You didn’t even realize Jeonghan was in the room until he placed his hand on your shoulder and you snapped back to reality, flinching at his touch. 

“Ay- Wow, it’s just me, Mouse.” He pulled his hand back and slid a chair up beside you. “Did you not hear me come in? I said hi.” 

“Sorry- Sorry…” Sighing, you placed a hand over your chest, feeling the fast pace of your heart. “I was zoning out- I- Sorry.” 

Jeonghan leaned in, tucking some strands of hair behind your ear to get a better look at your face. His fingers were warm against your cool skin and you couldn’t help but lean into the feeling. Gently he held your face, watching as your eyes fluttered closed and you sighed out a soft breath.

“You should get some sleep, Mouse. He isn’t going to be gone when you wake up.” 

Those words had your eyes snapping open and you straightened up, shaking your head. “I can’t- No. I can’t fall asleep.” You pushed the words to come out, digging your nails into your palms. You couldn’t fall asleep. You wouldn’t let yourself rest until he was awake and coherent enough to understand what was going on. 

Jeonghan sagged in his seat, stretching his arm over your shoulders to bring you close to his side. “Will you at least eat then? Just a little? I think ‘Gyu would be a little mad knowing that you didn’t eat because you wanted to wait up for him.” 

You whined and rested your head on his shoulder, a pout on your lips. “How dare you use manipulation and guilt tripping on me.” 

“Ah~ But are you going to eat? Junhui makes really good spicy noodles. Even lowered the heat intensity since he doesn’t know your tolerance.” 

“...Fine.” 

Reaching for the container, you pulled it into your lap, glad he provided some utensils, and under Jeonghan’s watch, you ate. It was good, really good and the spice was able to warm your frigid body enough. You let Jeonghan hold onto you, sapping the warmth he provided and listened to his quiet humming. Though at some points it was hard to eat, you swallowed enough down to satisfy the man beside you before closing it and placing the rest aside for later. 

It was nice having Jeonghan beside you. He provided a peaceful lull in the ache in your chest and settled the unruly thoughts that plagued your mind. He didn’t seem like one to judge you, maybe only when teasing you did he feel the need. Though annoying at times, his presence was enjoyable and always entertaining at the end of the day. He was already ready to listen when you complained over text and seemed like a shoulder to cry on when needed. Weird to think, but he was one of the people that felt like home along with Seokmin. 

The two of you sat, side by side, Jeonghan kept you close, letting himself take moments to rest his eyes. For what felt like hours, no one disturbed the stillness here. All that was heard was the sound of Mingyu and Jeonghan’s breathing and the occasional beep from a machine. Jeongahn was definitely asleep on your shoulder - not that you minded, he worked hard last night – and your eyes were getting irritated from no reset. 

Your eyes were focused on a pulled thread from the blanket Mingyu was tucked in with. Pulling it was a dumb idea, but the itch under your skin begged you to just tug it and rip it off. For a second you thought you were going to lose it, it had been too long since you stayed up all night, you weren’t a teenager anymore. 

While staring, you swore you saw Mingyu’s hand twitch. Refocusing your attention on the man, relief flooded through you when you saw his eyebrow twitch. Quickly you started to pat at Jeonghan’s leg, brushing his arm off your shoulder to stand and lean over the bed. Jeonghan was quick to react, bleary eyes blinking away any sleep that he could in case it was an emergency. He groggily voiced some concern but you didn’t hear anything. 

Mingyu’s eyes were starting to peel open, grimacing at the harsh lights of the room bleeding in through his cracked open eyes. You took his hand in both of your own, your heart beating so fast it might have you pass out. 

“Hey…hey, bud…” You said so softly, brushing some hair from his face when he turned his head. Tears were threatening to pour out of your eyes. A sound grumbled out of him and you cooed at him, a wobbly smile spreading across your lips. “It’s okay, ‘Gyu…”

He cursed when he tried to move some more but you quickly soothed him, placing one hand on his clothed chest to settle him. When his eyes fully opened, he took in his surroundings properly, sighing out a complaint of pain through his nose. Jeonghan had gotten up to round the bed and view Mingyu from the other side. 

“What-” His voice was hoarse and he tried to clear his throat but it didn’t help much. “How long have I been out?” 

“Almost twenty-four hours,” Jeonghan’s voice was just as soft when answering, a tight lipped smile was holding back the emotions he wouldn’t let spill over. “You scared us all half to death.” 

“ ‘M sorry.” He murmured out, but you only laughed, pushing his hair back. 

“No need to apologize, as long as you were here, that’s all that matters.” 

You stayed until he was coherent enough to ask for food and complained that beer was the best medicine. Both you and Jeonghan called everyone and they dropped everything they were doing to rush to Mingyu’s bedside. When he was in loving, safe hands, you asked Seungcheol for someone to drive you home, preferably not any of the guys since they wanted to be beside their brother. 

When you entered your apartment, you crashed hard. You couldn’t be bothered to change before crawling into the confines of your blankets and passed out. It was one of the best-worst sleeps of your life, you were happy to be asleep but terrified of the ongoing thoughts that haunt your dreams. You slept for twelve hours, it startled you when you saw the time on your phone. Seokmin and Jeonghan had sent text messages that only increased in volume the longer you didn’t reply. As you stared confused at your phone, a call came in from Jeonghan and you swiped to answer. 

“Hello?” 

“ Jesus, did you just wake up? You left over twelve hours ago, I was worried something happened.” 

Rubbing your eyes with one hand, you curled up on your side, yawning. “Yeah, I passed out once my head hit the pillow. I guess I was more tired than I felt.” 

“ Hmm, well Mingyu wants you back here to keep him company. If nothing changes by tomorrow night, he is begging to go home so we might take him back up to the house.” 

You nodded but remembered he couldn’t see you, and verbalized your ‘ okay’. He went on to say he’d be there in half an hour to pick you up and said goodbye. 

Jeonghan was true to his words in allowing Mingyu to go home. You were thankful he was alright despite the tremendous pain and eager to sleep in his own bed that was big enough for him and his long limbs. That’s how you found yourself seated in the back of Minghao’s SUV with Mingyu’s head on your lap. Seokmin had called shotgun and now it was the four of you hearing the injured man complain each time there was a pothole or bump in the road. Many of the others had work to tend to and would meet up back at the house later. You messaged Wonwoo to let him know you guys were on the way so he was prepared to help lug Mingyu to his room upon arrival. 

Really, getting him into the car was easy somehow, but getting him out of the car? He was whining like a baby and protesting whenever someone moved too fast. It was his stupid idea to lay across the backseats, it would have been easier to drop the backseats and lay him flat in the back with some pillows and padding to make it easier to get him out. When he was finally standing and huffing out tired breaths to compensate for the spent energy, it took Seokmin and Wonwoo to slowly walk him through the house and get him into bed. 

You trailed behind with a bag full of his things slung over your shoulder that another member brought yesterday. Wonwoo pushed Mingyu’s door open and you stopped at the threshold, not wanting to break the barrier of personal quarters. Jeonghan’s room was the only other place outside of the office in the house that was a more private space. The interior was a mix of black and white, medium-light colored wood as accents to the scheme. His bed was huge, probably a King-bed of some type, it wouldn’t surprise you if it was custom made exactly for him. He had a gaming set up in the corner, a few monitors and you would have laughed at the bright blue dog-ear headset. 

“Mouse, you can come in.” Mingyu called from where he sat on his bed, taking a moment before moving any more. 

“Uh- right. Yeah.” Shifting from foot to foot for a moment, you stepped inside and placed his bag at the foot of his bed. “Do you need anything?” 

With a shake of his head, he smiled and his shoulders shook as he laughed silently. “I’ll be okay. And thanks for everything, guys.” He said to Seokmin, Wonwoo, and Minghao but his eyes landed on you once more. “And thank you, Mouse. You helped a lot from what Jihoon and Vernon told me.” 

Mingyu got into bed with more ease than getting him up from the bed back at the warehouse. Wonwoo pulled the covers over him but you fussed a bit, making sure his phone was placed on his nightstand in easy reach and asking one last time if he needed something. He brushed you off and sent you out of the room with the rest, saying to wake him up when food was made. 

You had stepped out onto the back patio after parting from Mingyu and found solace under an umbrella to hide from the sun but enjoy the hot air. Being here at the house was one of the only times you could enjoy the outdoors without the constant noise of the busy city streets bothering you. Oftentimes you wished you could afford a home outside of the concrete jungle you lived in to have solitude and room to breathe truly fresh air. 

“Oh- Mouse, hey.” Vernon’s voice found its way to your ears and you turned to see him exit the back sliding doors. “Mingyu is home then, good.” 

“Mmm, yeah, he is probably knocked out in his room.” The response hummed out of you. “What are your plans?” 

“Ah-” He paused, mouth wide open and averted his gaze, trying to think of a good answer, but it was clear none came. “Honestly…I was going to smoke a bowl and stare at the ceiling for a while.” 

That sounded amazing after the last couple of days…

“Vernon,” You scratched the back of your neck and puffed out a breath. “Can I join you?” 

He didn’t bother hiding the surprise that spread across his features and one eyebrow raised high. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I think I need it.” 

With one more moment of hesitation, he shrugged and walked towards one of the sheds with a little bounce to his step. “If we get in trouble, it’s your idea.” 

Chuckling quietly as you trailed behind, you nodded. “Got it, I’m just ready to get higher than a kite.” 

As Vernon threw the door open to the shed, he spread his arms wide and spun around, walking backwards until his knees hit the back of the blanket covered couch at the far end of the building and sunk into it. “Welcome to DJ Leafblower’s Sanctuary. Very few are allowed in and when they do get invited, they leave relaxed.” 

It was a pretty small space but it was dark and comforting. It smelled strong of weed but that only added to the hippie vibe. He reached over to hit a button and the small area came to life with different types of colored lights and designs moving on the ceiling. Now you could see why he was going to stare at it for a while, it all made sense now.

“You make this sound like something completely different.” You closed the door behind you and crashed on the couch beside him, kicking off your slides and tucking your legs in criss-cross. “Also- DJ Leafblower? Did you name yourself that?” 

“Yes.” He said proudly and you only shook your head, laughing under your breath. 

“Whatever, let's just get this going.” 

If you tried to count on your fingers how many hits you took, you would have ten- wait…no five…everything looked a little funny. 

You don’t know where in between hits you and Vernon ended up on the cushioned, blanket covered floor, laying opposite directions but your heads beside one another. The light designs that shifted around on the ceiling were mesmerizing in your inebriated state, every time you slow-blinked they changed and you were even more fascinated by it. This was the most relaxed you’ve been in a long time and you didn’t want the feeling to end. 

“You know-” The words came out slow from Vernon, “I thought we lost him there for a moment.” 

Processing the sentence had you closing your eyes for a moment, humming back. “I couldn’t let another person die.” 

Vernon turned his head to you and you maneuvered to lay on your side, able to see his face but too unfocused to see his expression. “Another person?” He asked quietly. 

“My parents.” 

Silence filled the shed. The lights continued to move. You swore you could feel the earth move with how high you were. 

“Mouse…” Vernon sounded so…sorrowful if you had to point a word to it. “Is that why you didn’t sleep?” 

“Mhmm.” You don’t know why you were speaking about it, in your relaxed state it was too easy to just let the sob story – well, you thought of it as a sob story – spill out. “They ODed when I was a kid, like six.” 

“Fuck dude.” He sat up and turned to sit and face you. “That’s horrible.” 

You gave a quiet chuckle and shrugged. “When I saw Mingyu on the table, I had flashbacks to my parents on the floor in the living room, minus the blood and all. I kept picturing their faces on him, how lifeless they looked, how pale they looked. There was fucking needles on the ground beside their bodies. I just-” Sighing, you closed your eyes, “I couldn’t have that same feeling. I needed Mingyu to live.”  

You slowly sat up and everything around you spun for a moment. “What makes it worse? Those bastard cops, the ones that came when I called 911, brushed it under the rug because who wants the fact that a cop ODed with his stay at home wife while their daughter was sleeping written all over your police station and the small town news.” 

Vernon looked like he didn’t know how to respond, but the words continued to spill out. “I told them that I saw the guy's face that sold it to them but they never believed me, saying I was just making it up. Who the fuck makes that shit up? I saw the drug dealer that sold them laced stuff and no one cared. My family, god those assholes too, didn’t want the fucked up kid so I went into foster care, which sucked by the way. I tried to reach out to them but they told me never to contact them again. I bounced around from small town to small town for years after that. I got a scholarship to the university here in the city and I never looked back. I’ve had this fucked up sense that it was all my fault, like they turned to drugs because I wasn’t a perfect kid.” 

There was a smile on your face the whole time like the entire story was some kind of joke. You reached out and lit the put out joint, taking a long drag. “I learned later that they blacked out all and any information that my dad reached out to his commanders for help. The entire police report from the day I found them was blacked out too. Sick fucking bastards.” Every word that left you was said with hate. You took another long drag and handed it over to Vernon who gladly accepted it. He met your eyes, the expression he wore soft and in no way filled with pity. “If I ever see the guy that sold those drugs to them, Vernon…I swear I’ll kill him myself…” 

Vernon’s mind was fuzzy but he nodded, seemingly a mutual understanding of the feeling. “My sister and I…our parents were killed in a hit and run when we were young.” Hearing him start, your attention, while slow to focus, was drawn to him, watching as he stared up at the ceiling. “Because it was local gang shit and the cops were lazy as hell, we didn’t get any justice. We were sent off to our grandmother’s but she was old and couldn’t really take care of us. There wasn’t enough money so I stole to get by. Really I wanted to shield my sister from it.” 

“Is she-?” 

“She is going to college this year. When I joined SVT a few years back, I made them promise to help me pay for her education and I’d do what they needed. Mainly blackmail, weed growing and sales, shit like that. I’m not doing stuff like Chan, Minghao, and them. I’m mainly on Wonwoo’s side with work.” 

You nodded, laying back down beside him, letting your eyes follow the lights on the ceiling. 

“If I knew who those gang members were, I’d kill them in a heartbeat right now and I’m not the most coordinated with a gun.” Vernon let out a small huff of a laugh. “But we always have someone with my sister even if she is just being watched, if anything was to happen to her, I’d have justice as quick as I could. I’d raise hell and heaven to make sure she is resting in peace. I hope you find the guy that did it, it's an eye for an eye at that point.” 

“Thanks for not thinking I’m crazy.” 

“Crazy?” Vernon let out a loud laugh, shoulders shaking to the point where his arm knocked against yours. “We are laying in a shed where I smoke a fuck ton of weed on a property that Seungcheol built and prospered with mainly mafia money. Mouse, we are in a fucking action movie and honestly it gets boring.”

“Has anyone seen Vernon?” Seungkwan called through the living room, frowning. “I can’t find him.” 

The sun had set and almost all of the members were back at the house. He had gone in and checked on Mingyu who was knocked out, tucked snuggly under the comforter. Seungkwan had gone to Vernon’s room to hang out but came up short. He didn’t get any text messages that Vernon was leaving the property. 

“I swear you are usually attached to the hip,” Soonyoung shuffled around the kitchen, laughing at him. “Have you checked the shed?” 

Jeonghan entered the living room, looking at the group of members littering the area. “Have any of you seen, Mouse?” 

“No idea. Usually Seokmin knows where she is but he went back to the city for something. I haven’t really seen her since we got Mingyu into bed.” Minghao was lazied on the couch, a book hovering above his head as he scanned the pages. 

“I’m going to check the shed.” Seungkwan huffed, having a feeling that none of them would be of any help. “I’ll let you know if Mouse is in there.” 

Turning on his toes, he jogged out the back door and towards DJ Leafblower’s shed. He couldn’t see anything inside with the blocked out windows but a quick pull of the door gave him his answer. 

Mouse and Vernon were sitting back against the foot of the couch, heads leaned back as they stared at the ceiling. A blanket was thrown over their legs but the cloud of smoke that left the small building gave him a clear answer to the current state they were in. 

“No, all I’m saying is that if you want a really good bowl of soup, you need to let me cook..” Mouse rambled off and Vernon nodded along, “I make amazing soup, Vernon. I’m telling you.” 

“Nah, nah, I believe you, but soup is so…overrated.” 

Mouse gasped and slapped her hand against his arm. “ Take it back .” 

“You both are idiots.” Seungkwan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Vernon high is bad enough.” 

Both Mouse and Vernon lifted their heads and beamed at him. Truthfully his heart melted a little. They looked like little kids when their favorite person came into the room. 

“Seungkwan!” Vernon waved his hand and motioned for him to join them. “Kwan, Kwan, come tell Mouse the thing you were telling me about. About Jeonghan.” 

Seungkwan slapped a hand to his face and sighed once more. Of course he remembers that now. “No, Nonnie, I’m not going to talk about that while both of you are smoking.” 

“Why not?” Mouse questioned, resting her head on Vernon’s shoulder. “I wanna know the tea on Jeonghan.” 

He stepped inside and shut the door, pulling out his phone to send Jeonghan a text that they were in the shed, and sat down across from the two. “Because the tea shouldn’t be talked about when your head is in the clouds.” 

She whined, pouting. “That’s dumb.” 

“No, you are for smoking whatever concoction of weed Vernon had on hand.”

“The Leaf Blower special.” Vernon laughed.

Seungkwan mockingly muttered the words under his breath but leveled them both with a judgemental gaze. “Are you guys hungry? If you come inside, we can get you some of the chicken tenders Mingyu keeps in the freezer.”

“Tendies sound amazing.” Mouse giggled, “Do you have other trash food?” 

He was going to die by the end of the night because of them. “There are probably some pizza rolls and french fries in there. I think Shua brought home two dozen cinnamon rolls too.” 

“Seungkwan, I’d kiss you right now but I feel like jelly.” Mouse was looking at him like he was a literal god among men. 

“Please do not,” He started, continuing to talk under his breath but didn’t realize how loud he actually was, “Jeonghan wouldn’t be happy about that.” 

She frowned, confusion twisting across her face. “Why would he be mad about that?” 

Vernon grinned. “Because Jeonghan like likes you, Mouse.” 

“Oh for fucks sake-” 

“Wait- What?” 

Tag List is Open! Comment on the BSH Master List to get added!

Tag List:

@unlikelysublimekryptonite @iiaweirdo @aurorajoye