#i think this might be the first time ive allowed them to speak

[c4tspl4sh]

thinking

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (IV)

Happy Holidays! Remember your plans to visit friends and family back in your home country? Scratch that. The Yakuza men have other ideas for you in this cozy Christmas special. And you finally get to meet their fearsome Boss, who has a request for you.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

You stare at your phone in disbelief, rereading each line and hoping you've misunderstood the kanji. Daitou and Kazuya are quietly frowning behind you, unsure how to help in such a situation. Their lack of response only confirms it.

The brief paragraph is written in bold, red font: Due to weather conditions, all flights are cancelled until further notice. Passengers have been refunded and will need to repurchase their tickets at first convenience.

One glimpse at the last-minute prices and you're certain of it: you won't be going home for Christmas. You slouch and sigh, somewhat at peace with the idea. What else can you do? You might as well get yourself a KFC bucket and stare at the holiday lights in the city center. You and the couples taking cheesy Christmas selfies, who will later wonder about the gloomy loner behind them philosophically crunching on spicy wings.

"Don't look so defeated, (Y/N). You can just spend that time with us instead. We're not such terrible company, are we?" Kazuya jokes, trying to cheer you up.

"We could even go on a trip around New Year."

Your eyes light up in anticipation, the sadness vanishing almost instantly. 

"Can we go to one of those hot spring inns? I've always wanted to visit an onsen." You put your hands together pleadingly. 

"Whoa! Take me out to dinner first if you're that eager to see me naked." The blonde man winks at you smugly. 

"How would I see you naked? The baths are separated, aren't they?" You inquire. 

"We can't go to the regular ones." Daitou pulls his collar slightly downwards, revealing a fragment of his traditional tattoos. True. A yakuza would never be allowed among the civilians. "We'd have to book a private bath, so there wouldn't be anyone else."

You blush at the prospect of being alone with the two men. Kazuya notices your nervousness and is about to continue his teasing, but Daitou speaks before him, unbothered and oblivious:

"Besides, you've already seen me naked. I can tell you Kazuya doesn't look much different. There's nothing to be shy about."

The blonde man can only gawk, taken aback, and you shove Daitou in a flustered panic, fumbling to find an excuse or a change of subject.

He didn't have to make your business public like that, or he could've at least announced it without you being present. Judging by the blonde's speechless reaction, you're guessing he hasn't been told about your sneaky office smooching that led to the occasional sleepover. If you think about it, there's nothing shameful about being intimate with your boyfriend, but...It's not something you're fully accustomed to yet.

As promised, after the coworker incident you were soon greeted with a job offer in the neighborhood. When you went to your old office to discuss the mandatory year contract, the managers nervously handed you an approval for resignation and refused to discuss any details. You were free to go, no penalty or obligation. They had a fearful demeanor and you hoped Daitou didn't dismember anyone involved. Regardless of his means, you were now at the liberty to pursue other careers.

On the other hand, you were rather anxious about your new workplace. You had flashing visions of drug cartels and gambling parlors, with thugs rattling their drinks at you and demanding proper service. Windows breaking and masked men rolling onto the floor, armed to the brim. Ginza hostesses scurrying behind you and asking for help against an angered client. The night before your first day, you restlessly shuffled in your bed, plagued by second thoughts. What could you possibly do for the yakuza? What ghoulish demands would they prepare for you?

Daitou was the one to accompany you in the morning. He showed you to your desk, and you could discern the blurred frames of people angrily discussing matters in the opposing meeting room, separated by a large window. You gulped.

"They're building a new apartment complex two streets down." Your boyfriend mentioned casually, helping you settle with your belongings. 

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were curious about their talk."

"I mean, I am, but...Is that it?" You gazed at him incredulously. 

"What else? This is a real estate office. Upstairs is the stock investments."

"Oh...Oh...I thought..." You were a little embarrassed. The imaginary scenarios of bloody battles and crimes that kept you awake felt quite ridiculous now.

Daitou seemed to have picked up on your assumptions, because he chuckled and ruffled your hair, following with an explanation. 

"Boss is very strict with our Ninkyo-Do. If you're caught with drugs or petty theft, you're excommunicated. We used to have a bunch of gambling casinos as main income, but nowadays there's too much pressure from the police, ya know? Half of our members aren't even officially registered with the Yakuza, so they can't be tracked. We mostly do stocks and real estate. That's where the cash is. 

Heh. Kinda boring, ain't it? I'm afraid you showed up way after the golden times. Even I'm too young for it. If ya want, I can ask one of the retired seniors to tell you about it. He has a lot of great stories."

You held your tongue from bringing up his frequent killing sprees and just nodded, amused by the fact that his code of conduct didn't register human casualties as wrong. The Yakuza have strict rules of ethics that set them apart from regular mafia. Depending on the Oyabun, or Head of the Family, this chivalrous way of living is reinforced to all members or conveniently swept under the rug. Daitou's Boss seemed to fit in the former category. 

Therefore your "office job" turned out to be an actual office job without the quotes. Although you were often reminded the people passing by weren't your regular salarymen. Many of them were entirely transparent with you, striking up conversations about their latest arrest, or complaining about the poor quality of their pinky finger prosthetic they'd ordered from the Philippines. 

But this isn't the time to reminisce. The prolonged silence is unbearable and one could fry eggs on your hot, burning cheeks. Kazuya is the one to break the awkwardness. 

"Oh, yeah...You coming to the Christmas thing this evening?"

"We'll be there." Daitou smiles innocently, unaware of the discomfort he just caused.

Kazuya raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks at you.

"Did you...?"

"Yup. It's all fine." The dark haired man nods reassuringly. 

"Then I'll see you at dinner, little (Y/N). Don't catch a fever with all that steam blowing out of you." He laughs at your still baffled expression and places his large hand on your head, departing.

Daitou holds the door open for you and you hurry inside. As you both walk down the hallway of the luxurious restaurant, you can't help the nagging feeling that he's once again omitted some vital information. 

"Can you tell me again who else is coming? Just Kazuya?"

"Oh no, it's a Family meeting. So Boss and the rest of the Seniors, too."

You gasp in horror, but before you can scold him, you find yourself behind the canvas screen divider, facing a table of older men in suits, holding their drinks and eyeing you suspiciously. 

"Oi, who the fuck is this, Daitou?" one of them growls. 

"I already told you before, (Y/N). My girlfriend."

"Huh? Did you seriously just bring a civvy to our meeting? I knew you got a loose screw, boy, but this tops it all."

Daitou frowns and steps in front of you, visibly annoyed. 

"If ya got a problem with my woman being here, I can settle it for you, old man. When was the last time you fought someone?"

"'s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've gotten too comfortable sitting up there and barking orders. Let me remind you why they leave the killings to me."

The thick tension in the air is quickly dispersed by a loud, relaxed laugh. At the end of the table, a heavily scarred man with grey hair is clapping his hands in delight, seemingly amused by the events unfolding. He glances at you and pats a cushioned seat to his right. 

"There you are! Come join us, miss (Y/N). Ignore those rusty grumps, they ain't seen a woman outside a host club." He throws the instigator a brief glare. "Is that any way to talk to my guest, Oota?"

The man swallows dryly and mutters an apology. He goes back to his drink, preoccupied, and the rest follow suit. 

You hesitantly kneel down to your designated place, sheepishly peeking at the mysterious figure. Could it be? As if reading your mind, Daitou places an encouraging hand on your waist and lowers his head to your ear, swiftly whispering "that's Boss" before going to greet the others at the table. 

"I-it's a pleasure meeting you, Sir." You mumble nervously.

"No no, pleasure is all mine. I'm Eiji Ijichi, 8th Head of our Family." 

His introduction is unexpectedly warm and his easygoing way of speaking reminds you a lot of Daitou. The faintest grin threatens to appear, but you cover your mouth. With enough imagination, this could be the equivalent of meeting your in-laws. This is Daitou's family, after all. A criminally scary one, but nonetheless you've been welcomed with open arms.

"Do you drink?" The older man asks you, raising his porcelain cup.

"Naturally." You exclaim and lift your own cup enthusiastically. 

"Attagirl!"

As the night progresses, the men at the table are loosening up under the influence of expensive alcohol. Kazuya seems to be caught in a terribly involved conversation with Daitou and one of their Captains, gesturing dramatically and occasionally raising his tone. You notice your glass has once again been filled by the waitress and take another sip, satisfied with observing their fun from the sidelines. Boss has a similar approach, gazing nostalgically over the rowdy group of thugs.

He reaches for his pack of smokes and you scramble to pick up the lighter, politely bowing as you light up his cigarette. He smiles at your gesture. 

"I see Daitou's trained you already."

He ponders for a moment, gently blowing a cloud of smoke upwards. 

"You'll make a good wife."

"Excuse me?" You question, startled by his sudden remark. 

"It's hard to tell, but I'm getting pretty old myself." He snickers at his self made compliment. "Soon it'll be time to pick my successor. I have no children, unless you count that rascal I picked from the streets." He says as he tilts his chin towards Daitou. 

"I love him like my own kid, but I'm sure you noticed he's a little off. Everyone is terrified of him. You can't have a leader if everyone runs away from him, ya know? I was starting to get worried I'd work myself through retirement. Kazuya can only do so much!

Then he comes up to me grinning like an idiot. I thought, 'There it is. He finally lost it', but instead he asks me if I want to see a photo of his girlfriend. Girlfriend?! I was ready to witness some crusty body pillow, my hand was on the phone to call our Family doctor. He shows me a cute foreigner standing next to him. Now I'm pretty sure he's not smart enough to fake photos like that, so it must be the real deal. 'How the Devil did ya pull this one?' I asked him. Cause listen, I was rather handsome back in my day and I still wouldn't have been this lucky.

And would ya look at that, it's the miss that moved into our apartments! How's the living conditions, by the way? Everything going fine?"

You nod energetically.

"Good, good."

He crosses his arms and nods himself, satisfied. He turns to gaze at you intently, with a face you can't quite read.

"You gotta excuse a drunk old man for rambling so much. What I'm trying to say...well...

Take care of him when he becomes the 9th, will ya? If he has you, I'm sure he'll manage. But don't tell him I said that! You gotta keep them humble. See, that's a lesson for you too. If there's one person the Head of the Family bows to, that's his wife! But I doubt he'd let the power get to his head."

You both turn to Daitou. He just finished pouring more sake to his superior and notices your stare. He blushes slightly and waves, unsure why he's suddenly being observed. 

"I think so, too." You respond, waving back. 

How would that look on a CV? Ane-san of a Yakuza family. 

[mysacredmuse]

ive been thinking for awhile.. imagine playing UNO with aventurine and sunday as if taking a break with all the chaos shit happening in penacony LMAO

like imagine if you three are on opposite sides (terms of like storyline stuff) but one day, aventurine decides to be like ‘hey yall wanna be friends and play uno’

is it possible to write a fic about this please? no pressure, ofc

hello dear !! I can't write a full fic about that, but rather a tiny scenario, I hope that's okay :)

playing uno with sunday and aventurine, written with gender neutral reader in mind ! :)

dividers by @/cafekitsune :)

The three of you absolutely despised each other given the differences in interests. However, one day you find yourself sitting in the hall of the hotel as two men sit on two chairs across of yours. Your rooms have been messed up and Sunday had to take care of it, unfortunately some other things got into the way, leaving you in an uncomfortable silence with the two of them. You scroll on your phone as Sunday sits awfully still, that guy always gave you creeps with his statue-like behavior.

Aventurine on the other hand, is completely bored out of his mind, twirling the golden coin between his fingers. You sigh in annoyance as you gaze over the reception, noticing that there is still quite the commotion.

"How about we play the game of poker?" Aventurine finally speaks up, leaning back into his chair.

"Gambling is strictly prohibited in the hotel's lobby. Please refrain from your lowly ways in here." Sunday says firmly, crossing his arms in the process.

"I am also not interested in playing poker with you, I just want my room back." you point your finger at him, slightly readjusting yourself in the chair.

"Ah friends, why so serious?"

Aventurine chuckles as he swiftly takes a pack of cards out of his inner pocket, placing it on the table.

"Is uno prohibited as well?" he asks in a playful tone, earning a grunt from Sunday. You give him a dirty look, leaning back into your chair.

"Come on! We will wait for this mess to clean up for at least an hour, might as well have some fun." he proclaims in a happier tone as he begins shuffling the cards.

You bite down on your bottom lip, slightly leaning forward as you accept your fate.

"I mean as long as we don't place bets, it wouldn't be considered a gamble, correct?" you ask in a bored tone, eyes gazing at Sunday.

"That is correct." he confirms, expression still dissatisfied.

"It's settled then! Let's be friends for a while and enjoy the game!" Aventurine says happily as he deals the cards.

Truth to be told, you never expected to see a man like Sunday hold up uno cards and race with Aventurine as to who will jump in first when a common card is on the table. Just seeing a man like Sunday hold uno cards was enough to make you chuckle. You find yourself actually enjoying this little game with the two of them.

Especially seeing Sunday's elegant demenaor crumbling as he screams at Aventurine for cheating. Then, witnessing Aventurine sneaking his hand into Sunday's pocket, stealing a golden coin once he wins. Sunday naturally scolds him about it and you find yourself having fun even more. Your laugh echoes through the lobby as the crowd slowly settles down.

At the end, you win the most rounds simply because their bickering allowed you to put more cards than you were supposed to while they weren't watching. They did find a secret stash beneath your chair, giving you quite a scolding about it.

Aventurine wasn't that serious, making a remark that you would make a good poker player only if you can cause a commotion. Not that he recommends it, but your cheating skills are admirable in his eyes. In Sunday's however, your cheating skills are absolutely despicable. So, he orders you to play a rematch with them, but no cheating and dirty tricks this time.

The room wasn't important anymore and perhaps this could become a new routine of yours in the near future.

[bookshelf-dust]

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 2,344

warnings: swearing, smoking, reader is lonely, descriptions of billy’s abuse, mentions of neil

a/n: hi! so i decided to challenge myself with this. i’m making this a multi-part story. i’ve never done anything like this before, but so far i’m enjoying it. i’m not entirely sure where we’re headed, but i’ve got a sort of outline in my head. i’ve also decided to try something else new, and i’ve picked out some songs that you can listen to before you read to get you in the mood—but only if you want of course. this is all a really new experience for me but i have put a lot of heart into this first part. i hope that you enjoy this, really i do. also the title is from a part of hop’s letter to el. <333

before you read, listen to: wheel in the sky by journey and/or (don’t fear) the reaper by blue oyster cult

————

Sitting cross-legged on your bed, you turn the page of the book in front of you, the sound of the paper flipping an audible one.

You lift the hardback, tuck your nose into the center of the pages and give it a sniff. It might be odd to do so, yes, but to you, books are the best smelling thing in the world.

You put it back down, go back to reading.

A knock breaks you out of your fantasy literature-induced stupor.

“Honey? Okay for me to come in?” Your mother’s voice, soft and sweet.

“Sure.” Your voice is quiet when you speak, though just loud enough for her to hear.

Your bedroom door opens enough for your mother to stand just inside, her back against the frame, one hand gently resting on the knob.

You reach for your bookmark, drape it over one side of the pages and then close it.

“Hey, kiddo.” Her smile is easy. You try your best to give her one of your own, but you know it falls short.

“Wendy and I are going out to dinner tonight and then to an art show.”

Wendy was your mother’s longtime best friend, and quite the riot.

“Apparently her new girlfriend is something of an artist.” She gives a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. “Do you think you’d like to tag along?”

You uncross your legs and stretch them out: contemplating. Then you do the same to your back, which makes an obscene crackling noise—enough to make the both of you grimace.

You know how you’ll feel if you go out with your mother and her friend.

You’ll be okay for the first little while, but then there will be too many people. You’ll get nervous. You will probably say something wrong and feel the need to shut down. You will shut down. Your hands will get shaky and you’ll get upset, and by the end of the night you’ll wish you hadn’t gone at all.

You know how you’ll feel if you stay home, too.

You’ll be fine, totally fine, having avoided everything you’d face in the other situation. But you’d be guilty. Guilty because you’re young and you won’t be going out to do whatever or making friends. You’ll feel like you’re failing your mom, who just wants you to experience things.

You decide that leaving your house shouldn’t require this much stress.

“No, I don’t think so,” you finally say. “But thank you for offering.”

You watch your mother as she moves further inside your room, settling on the edge of your bed.

“Are you sure?” She sets her hands on your knees, tapping her fingers, many a ring glinting in the overhead light of your room.

“We could get frozen yogurt. You know, I really think you’ve turned Wendy into a monster after we went last time. It’s all she talks about now.”

That gets a small smile out of you, but brings an ache to your chest.

“I’m sure. Don’t get too crazy, tonight, though. And be sure to let me know about her new partner.”

“Alright. Hug or no? What’s the affectionate meter at right now?”

“A hug is fine,” you say through a quiet laugh.

She wraps her arms carefully around your shoulders, allowing you to squeeze first, that way she can gauge what you need.

“I’ll leave some money out so you can order pizza, okay?” You nod. “Also there’s a pint of the ice cream you like in the freezer.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my little honeybee.” With a final pat of your knee and a wink sent in the direction of your book, your mother sweeps out of the room, and a little while later she is out the door.

Alone in the house, you let out an exhale, before heading to the kitchen.

Opening the designated take-out-menu-drawer, you scrounge for the one belonging to a local pizza place. You go ahead and order now, knowing that it might take awhile since the place is in downtown Hawkins.

You realize, setting the phone down, that you don’t know what to do with yourself once you’ve got the chance to do whatever you please.

You retrieve your book to read on the couch until your dinner arrives, not only for a change of scenery, but because you’ll need to be out in the living room to watch an episode of your favorite show in a while anyhow.

You’ve only sat momentarily when you hear it. Hear him. When you hear his music, specifically.

Billy Hargrove lives a few doors down from you, just close enough that you can always hear when he comes home, music blaring—not that differently from the volume you play it at when alone in your car—and doors slamming.

You don’t know him personally, only from school. Only as this pretty boy who’s been in Hawkins a few months.

You know enough that you hate the way people at school look at him. Like he’s an object. Like he’s this foreign being just because he came all the way from sunny California. The way they talk about him. About his ass, or his car, or his little redhead sister.

You know he’s pretty. You’d never deny that. But he’s just like the rest of you, and it bothers you that people treat him—at least from what you’ve seen—like this all-powerful dude.

But you also know enough that you think maybe he doesn’t have the best home life, just from what you’ve seen when you’re not out—which is always.

Sometimes you see him walking up and down the street at various times during the day. Or you hear his car speed off.

Sometimes, though really only sometimes, you see him trailing his sister while she skateboards, either talking or sitting while she goes.

To you, he seems like a loner.

And maybe it’s because you’re one too that you see him that way. That you can see him that way.

————

Outside, Billy cups his hand around his cigarette. It’s seemingly out of habit, since it’s not windy out. His thumb slides along the spark wheel of his lighter once, twice before the flame catches. The tip glows red in the night.

He walks a little further, as he inhales deeply, closing his eyes and soaking it in. He kicks a rock, hard, trying to see if it’ll hit the post of the mailbox a few feet ahead of him.

He watches a pizza delivery car ride by and pull into a driveway. He hasn’t made it very far on his walk. The walk he wouldn’t be taking because it’s pretty damn cold outside.

But Neil Hargrove wasn’t aware that Max Mayfield had joined the Hawkins AV Club, and when there was no Max at home, he took it out on Billy, telling him he was an irresponsible waste of space.

It took Susan getting home with her daughter and explaining the situation for Neil to calm down.

But Billy’s back was aching from where he’d been slammed up against a doorframe, and frankly he wanted nothing more than to get out of the house.

So here he was.

A porch light flicked on as if whoever was inside had been waiting on that pizza. You had been—sitting on the couch and listening for car sounds.

When the delivery guy rings the doorbell you appear, and Billy realizes he knows you. That he goes to school with you. You’re very quiet. He also thinks your very pretty, and he’s never noticed that before.

You look very comfortable; all of your clothes seem to be too big. With the way the yellow outside light hits you, it gives your face a multitude of shadows. Billy thinks about some of the greek statues he learned about in a history class back when he lived in California. About how artists tended to sculpt women with real bodies.

Shit, he thinks. He’s probably staring at you. But you really are very pretty.

On the stoop, you take the pizza and set it on the table just inside the door and then hand the guy his money.

You decide not to be a dick and make sure that he gets out okay. When he backs out, you catch a flash of red out of the corner of your eye.

You wouldn’t be able to see him if it weren’t for the street lights. Billy is looking at you. You smile at him, and to your surprise, he smiles back.

“You okay?” You ask, hoping that your voice carries to him, because you don’t feel like shouting.

You watch him shrug and take another drag of his cigarette. The fingers on his free hand fidget with the ring he’s wearing, and you pretend not to notice.

“You?” He questions in return. Something about the sound of his voice makes you feel warm inside.

You shrug back, and he lets out a breath of a laugh, before you turn around to go inside and he continues with his walk.

You kick the door shut and lock it behind you, thinking about Billy.

That is the most extensive conversation you’ve ever had with him, aside from one a few days after he started at Hawkins High, when he didn’t know where the auditorium was, so you walked him the whole way there. You were pretty sure he’d been embarrassed to have to ask for help, but you hadn’t been bothered at all.

In fact, that exchange outside was the most conversation you’d had with anyone outside of your mother in a while.

Most days you didn’t say a word at school, keeping to yourself, trying to get homework done any chance you could so that it didn’t actually become homework. Sometimes you had to speak with a teacher though, and of course you said thank you when someone held a door—but that was it.

Quite frankly you didn’t know what to think. Part of you hoped you’d see him again. That you’d make a friend.

You hadn’t had a friend in a very long time.

————

When your mother returns home, it is with many beans to spill.

Wendy’s new partner, who you found out was named Stephanie, was, in your mother’s words, “Hot enough to go gay for.”

Your mother had also undoubtedly had some to drink while out and about.

“Also that boy from down the street? Don’t you go to school with him?”

You start fussing with a string on your sleeve. “Yeah, why?”

“Well he was brooding on his porch when Wendy retrieved me, and he’s still wandering around outside. It’s been,” she checked her watch, “three hours.”

You scratch at your nose, thinking.

“I saw him when the pizza got here.”

Your mother hums. “Well, I’m going to go shower the art gallery off of me and then probably stay up too late reading.”

“Okay.”

She smiles sweetly at you, collecting the pile of rings and other jewelry that she’d taken off and set on the counter while talking to you, and then you’re alone again.

You flatten your body over the countertop, bending at the waist and stretching so that your fingers can grip the other side.

You think about Billy out there. He was obviously going through something. And maybe it isn’t any of your business, but you hate the idea of him being alone, wallowing in self-pity. Not that you have any room to talk.

You straighten, walking carefully so as to not allow your socked feet to slip along the floor, and find yourself reaching for your coat.

Shoving your feet into a pair of shoes, you flip on the porch light once again, and make your way outside.

Across the street, Billy is resting against a low wall that has a mailbox set into it.

Looking both ways out of habit, you make your way towards him, stopping a few feet away. He looks up at you, both hands on the brick underneath him. There is a half-finished cigarette in one of his hands. You find yourself wondering how much he’d smoked since he’d been out here.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He quirks a brow at you.

“You’ve been out here a long time, you know that?”

Billy glances at his watch. “Seems so.”

“Not cold?”

“‘M fucking freezing my ass off out here.”

You try and choose your words carefully, not wanting to push too hard. “Seems like you could solve that problem if you went inside.”

“Are you worried about me or something, Y/N?”

Trying not to think about the way your name sounded leaving his mouth, you admit to your crimes.

“Yeah, actually. You were out here earlier, and my mom said she saw you when she left and when she got home. I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”

Something in Billy’s face softens. “Yeah?”

You exhale, your breath leaving a plume of air in front of you.

“Yeah.”

“Well then I guess I better get my ass inside, huh?”

You stuff your hands into your pockets and realize what you’ve got in there.

“Here.” You pull out a little hand warmer packet an hold it out to him.

Billy laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, you think. Charming and hearty. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

————

At school Monday, you make your way to the lunch table you’ve claimed, grass squishing under your feet.

You flip open your book, shove one leg under you.

It’s only been a little while of munching on grapes and forcing yourself to concentrate before you feel a weight drop onto the bench across from you, shifting the old table a little.

You look up. Billy Hargrove looks back.

He throws his bag on the worn wood, slaps a book of his own on top of that.

You’re confused at his appearance, and he seems to sense that.

“I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”

You feel yourself heat up, and sit on one of your hands because you also feel like you could cry.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[hazenllas]

Can't Get Enough II Hazel Callahan

Pairings: Hazel Callahan x reader

Warnings(?): kissing, tiny bit of angst, mentions of break up, fluff at the end

(Apologies for any spelling mistakes, english isn't my first language)

Summary: After 7 months without any contact with each other, you somehow end up at your ex's front door?

"So, your'e breaking up with me? Over long distance? Hazel, we can figure it out somehow. I promise you." You say with tears welling up in your eyes.

You are moving across the state because your mother found a new job and you have no other choice but to join her.

"Y/n, you know how i feel about long distance relationship! We will lose contact and find someone better! This is just the way it has to be, i'm sorry." Hazel states holding your small hands in her big ones while looking int your eyes searching for an answer.

"Whatever, Hazel. I really really can't do this right now. Have a great life i guess." You respond, not even looking at her so she doesn't see the tears streaming down your face. You turn away from her and walk away. Hazel made you lose control over everything since that day. You were a mess. but what would anyone expect? You were an 18 year old girl who just went through a break up with the girl you loved and valued most and put her before anything and anyone else.

It's been 7 months. 7 months since you moved, 7 months since you and Hazel broke up. 7 months of you and Hazel not speaking to one another once. It was torture. Fighting the urge to apologize from running away from the situation instead of properly ending things. Fighting the urge not to ask if shes found anyone new, because you certainly haven't. Trying to get through this breakup was hell for you and everything made you think of her. Hell, you found a drawing of a flower on the sidewalk pavement and you thought of Hazel.

You get a call from your mom that you will be moving back to your hometown to live with your cousin, PJ and her mom because your mom found a new boyfriend and will be going on multiple buisness trips and no one will be capable of watching you. Thankful that your hometown is only a few hours from here, you quickly gathered and packed your things to get ready to travel. As your mom is driving you towards your cousin's house, nervousness hits you as you remember about Hazel. since PJ is friends with her, you might have to face her.

You wave your mom goodbye, and she backs out of the narrow driveway. You knock on the door, as it swings open revealing a very excited PJ. "Hey Y/n! Welcome back!" PJ practically yells. She gives you a big hug and allows your to enter the house. Your aunt greets you as you greet her back, following PJ up the stairs, to her room. "So, I think we should invite the girls over, to come and see you again, and just have a little group hangout. Just like the old times!" PJ speaks, sitting on her bed." "PJ, ive only been gone for 7 months! it hasn't been that long." You respond laughing. PJ rolls her eyes and texts Josie, Isabel, Brittany, and of course, Hazel. "Listen, i know you might not want to see hazel after you know, but you need to talk to her a bit! She misses you a lot you know." PJ says, not looking up from her cellphone. you take those words deep into your thoughts. you can't talk to her! that is scary to even think about. You just shake it off and wait for your friends to arrive.

You are welcomed by a whole bunch of hellos and hug, each girl seeing you and running up to you. You can't lie, you missed them all while being away. "Wow Y/n, you didn't change much did you? Well, seems you just got sexier while away!" Brittany says, looking at you. Each girl is talk to you, well, except for one. Hazel. She kept her distance from you and the group and just stares at her white converse. It is like this the whole time the girls are over and it's driving you mad.

After pacing around an overthinking for the past, forever, you finally decide to go to Hazel's. You know its a bad idea but you can't take this anymore you need her, and well, to talk to her. After begging PJ to drive you over to Hazel's, because you don't have a car, she finally agrees. It is pouring outside so all the sound that is in the car is PJ cursing at the blurry windows ahead of her caused by the continuous raindrops. Finally getting to a stop, you are infront of Hazel's house. Or should i say, mansion. "Good luck champ." PJ sighs, patting your shoulder. "Thanks PJ. Ill text you when im ready to leave." You say, getting out of the car. You wave at PJ before turning towards Hazel's house. You take a deep breath before knocking on Hazel's door. It takes a bit, and you realize you a drenched from the rain. Hazel finally answers, looking down at you in shock. "Y/n? Shit, your soaked. Come in." Hazel gestures you to walk in. you whisper a quiet 'thank you' before walking inside. She quickly heads towards the closet with the towels, and handing you a purple one. "Uh so, what are you doing here?" Hazel asks looking you up and down. "I uh i wanted to talk, if that's okay with you Haze." Shit. 'Haze' a nickname you called her when you both were dating. "Yeah yeah sure come on lets sit on the couch." She answers, walking towards the couch. You both sit there, waiting for one to speak. "Hazel, im sorry, like really sorry. I didn't mean to just leave like that. We should have talked it out properly and and-" You rambled, being cut off by Hazel speaking. "Listen, it's okay. i promise, it was dumb of me to end the relationship when it was healthy and fine. Im in the wrong to Y/N." she answers, putting her hand on your knee. You look up at her already staring at you. you both stare at eachother before you break the silence. "Haze, I-.. I still love you, And its okay if you don't feel the same or youve found another-" You are yet again cut off by Hazel. But this time her lips are on yours. Kissing you softly. She hums as she feels you kissing back with just the same energy. The kis starts to get more quick, as you both kiss eachother with such need. her hands are on your waist as she pulls you up into her lap. You pull away for breath but Hazel stars kissing down your jaw, to your neck, leaving hot, wet kisses. You sigh in pleasure as you move your head to the side, allowing Hazel more space. You hands go into her hair, at one certain suck she makes that leaves a heavy purple mark. "I love you, i hope you know that" Hazel breaths. looking up at you. "I love you more Hazel." You say, as you lean in to kiss her once again.

[pennyellee]

CHAPTER IV - ustulation

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of God, blood, incision wound, fictive mafia clan traditions, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of death, overwhelming, violence, threats, intimate encounter, kissing

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 5,6K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III GAME OF GO CHAPTER V

ustulation (n.) a burning lust

In the hidden embrace of a secluded mountain valley, a village of hanoks stirred to life on a tranquil winter's morning. The air was crisp, a symphony of silence. The Song of the Dead toned down for some time.

The dawn’s gentle light bathed the valley, wisps of mist from the frost-kissed earth, adding an ethereal veil to the scenery she watched carefully from the closed window.

The majestic mountains, ancient pines and stoic rocks stood as sentinels of the valley's serenity. She could see them from this side of the house. Y/N sighed, holding a cup of tea in her two small hands, warming herself up on this chilly morning.

“Is something bothering you, my love?”

Yoongi had tried his hardest the past month to get under her skin. There were times when he thought perhaps, she would welcome him into her heart one day. However, her repeated escape attempts made him think otherwise. He was giving her the space she needed with carefulness in every action he took. The young leader knew well that she wouldn't be able to escape while they resided here, in the core of the village. That did not stop her though.

As if nature herself wished to bestow a gift upon him, the first snowflakes began to descend from the heavens just as they were returning from that unfortunate, eventful day in Seoul. The snowflakes floated gently, even now, like fragile dreams.

“Are you feeling well? You spent a lot of time in the snow yesterday.” He murmured after she didn’t grant him an answer to his previous question. They had to postpone the wedding as the snow and frost reigned, making it unsafe to pass through the tunnels. The passage was being cleared by workers for more than a week now. Time seemed to stand still as they absorbed the grace that enveloped their world.

“I feel fine,” she muttered back, not even looking his way at the table.

“I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?” He asked, demanding to speak to her.

“After all the stunts you pulled, you’re still free to roam around without anyone guarding you. Not speaking of the fact that I’m letting you sleep alone—” he was going on rumble.

The young leader is patient, but he longed for her more than ever. The fact that they’re still not newlyweds, and he cannot show love to every inch of her body, make her swell with his child, was frustrating him beyond repair. She had let her guard down once and allowed him to take the chance and kiss her on the cheek, startling her yet again.

“—you’re so blinded,” she said suddenly, turning back to face him.

“Excuse me?” said he, very surprised.

“You go on about how you’re good to me, how this is God’s doing, and that I should be grateful—” she threw her hands in the air, frustrated by his demanding nature.

While the leader thought he was granting her the time she needed, Y/N felt more and more anxious every day. Her heart is still itching to be free, yet she cannot stop thinking about what her selfishness would cause if she indeed managed to escape.

“Well maybe if you didn’t run every time, I tried to show you affection, I wouldn't have to remind you of all this.” He spat angrily, smashing the chopsticks on the table, standing up.

“I’m patient—” said he, getting closer to her standing form by the large windows. “—but I swear to God, you’ll disobey me again, and that’s where my hospitality ends, Y/N.”

“I just—” she stammered, making him stop in his attempt to close the distance between them. “I’m scared,” she whimpered. Y/N didn’t know why these words came out of her, nor why there were tears. All she felt was exhaustion.

The scarred leader’s expression softened. Is she finally confiding herself to him, opening up?

“My love…” He approached her, taking the cup from her shaking hands, putting it aside and lastly taking her face into his hands, his thumbs wiping her tears away.

“I can make you happy. You just have to let me in.” He whispered, moving his face closer to hers. Y/N knows they will cross the boundary sooner or later. The winter is making it impossible for her to both run away and survive. Should Y/N listen to her mother’s words and let him make her his queen? The older female’s proclamation circled her mind at night while listening to the cracking of wood in the fireplace.

“Please let me in, dove.” He pleaded again, his eyes filled with sincerity and longing.

And once she nodded her head in approval, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips softly against hers. Time stood still, and the world around them faded into a blur of insignificance. Their hearts pounded in sync for a brief moment. She felt a warmth she couldn't admit, even to herself. Y/N wanted to hate him so much. Despite her inner conflict, she could sense the unspoken longings from his side, his desire to deepen the kiss carefully without overwhelming her. He wished to never let her go and feared that she would vanish in his hold. His lips were tender and tentative, like the brush of a butterfly's wings upon a fragile petal. Y/N knows he is holding himself back. The kiss was addictive, momentarily lifting the burden from her chest.

As he went to slide his hands on the swell of her heart-shaped bottom, a sudden cough interrupted the intimate moment. Y/N quickly pulled away, feeling shame and embarrassment wash over her caused by the sudden intrusion. She stole a single glance at the man standing by the door, grinning mischievously. Her cheeks turned crimson as she felt shy and exposed, but the young leader kept holding her in his embrace, not letting her go so soon after their first shared kiss.

Smiling like a teenager, he said: “What’s going on Hoseok-shi.” Y/N could imagine he is smiling widely as she had observed when she apologised to him for hitting his head with the stone. He waved it off quickly stating ‘I would be a fool to not forgive my new sister.’ She pretended not to be affected by his words, but it made the man she was to marry smile even more mischievously.

“I need to speak to you, and Y/N should get ready for Hyung’s wedding,” Hoseok said, his eyes gleaming with some secret knowledge.

Y/N exchanged a puzzled glance with Hoseok before nodding and extracting herself from the young leader's embrace, her cheeks still flushed from the kiss. Uncertainty hung in the air as Yoongi let Y/N go and walk away, admiring her graceful figure.

“What?” Yoongi asked, turning his attention to his trusted friend, who wore a smirk that hinted at hidden amusement.

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still smiling under his nose.

“Shall we?” Yoongi said, collecting himself and walking towards his brother.

“You won’t fancy what news I bring, brother.”

Silk banners fluttered in the breeze, announcing the joyous union to all who ventured near. The bride, a vision of grace and elegance, is adorned in a hanbok of flowing silk and intricate embroidery.

The groom, dressed in the timeless attire of a traditional hanbok, stood tall and resolute. His eyes fixed unwaveringly upon his beloved, as though she embodied the very essence of his being — a force that fuelled his heart.

Amidst the enchanting spectacle of celebration, the weight of tradition resonated with each uttered word.

The outside picture portrayed the unbreakable bonds of family and the beauty of two souls finding solace in one another. Y/N, however, couldn’t help but have a feeling that the poor girl the doctor was marrying did not find herself at the altar because of true love but fearful coercion. It reminded her of her circumstances — a pawn in a larger scheme.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow upon the snow-covered land, Y/N sat beside her to-be husband, observing his unusual joy. Accordingly. Today, one of his brothers was finally taking a wife and his bride in a momentary vulnerability that had allowed him to share a tender kiss with her, amplifying his joy to an even greater extent.

Her ears perked up once she heard the celebration of the union before her. She couldn't resist side-eyeing the other brothers she had encountered over the past month, and her gaze locked with Kim Namjoon, Kkangpae’s right-hand man.

Y/N remembers Kim Namjoon. His piercing, cold gaze bore into her soul, especially so during one of her escape attempts, when he forcefully brought her back to the main house, reprimanding her for disobedience.

‘I can either give up my life to save you or I can be your enemy Y/N.’ Namjoon had warned her on a night when she sought solace near the fireplace in Yoongi's office, wrapped in blankets to warm herself even more. She was rarely allowed in this sacred room unless her actions demanded attention.

That night, Yoongi was dealing with business matters. He came back to the main house to her shivering and crying form. It is breaking his heart every time he sees her in such a state but simultaneously, he wishes she would cross the border of submissiveness and obey him.

Y/N ignored his warning just yesterday when she attempted to run away again. Hence, the gaze. If she was afraid of his next steps, she wouldn’t let him decipher that.

She snapped out of her mind as Yoongi rose from his seat, taking her hand to help her up. Y/N looked at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. He gently nudged her behind him, positioning himself as a protective shield. She looked around her, seeing that everyone else was still seated. Their looks show emotions —excitement, joy, and pride.

Her confusion heightened when Yoongi began unbuttoning her fur coat that was hiding her long red qipao, and panic swelled within her.

"What are you doing?!” She whispered in distress.

“Behave.” He whispered back to her, leaving the coat open revealing her breasts and tummy.

Leaving her standing close to him, he held her hand tightly, as if afraid she might flee at any moment. Y/N noticed that Namjoon's attention had shifted to Seokjin's new bride. The bride's trembling form approached them, and Y/N observed the gleaming knife in Seokjin's hand, quickly realizing what was about to happen.

It whispered promises of power, of secrets that could be revealed with a single stroke, but it also carried the weight of consequences and a toll on the bearer's conscience. As the girl's hand was carefully sliced with the knife, Y/N couldn't help but empathize with her pain. Her father had a similar tradition; however, women weren’t involved; she was still left in the dark about her role in all this.

The girl then knelt, extending her bloodied hand toward the leader, reciting her pledge of loyalty to Kkangpae Min. Yoongi covered her hand with his other one, acknowledging her devotion and signaling for her to continue with the moving tradition.

The leader then used his left hand to guide Y/N forward, leaving her yet again puzzled and bewildered. A moment later, she gasped with shock as she felt the girl's bloodied hand touch her lower belly. Yoongi held her firmly in place, preventing any instinctual step back.

"I, with my blood, pledge my loyalty to you, Min Buin. Blessed be the fruit of your future legacy, Kkangpae Min," the girl recited, her words carrying both reverence and a touch of melancholy. The significance of the moment and the responsibility it bestowed upon Y/N left her grappling with a maelstrom of emotions.

“Well you handled that well,” a voice came from behind her, and Y/N turned to find Namjoon standing there, watching her by the fireplace in Yoongi's office. She had been curious when he would approach her, knowing that Yoongi had gone to check if the tunnels were passable.

Y/N couldn't quite discern the tone of Namjoon's remark—whether it held irony or genuine praise. Such was the enigmatic nature of this man.

“I suppose,” she muttered, hugging herself for comfort.

“I personally thought you’d slap her hand off. Such an act would undoubtedly stir up trouble,” said he as he settled down in one of the armchairs.

Her mind replayed the events of the pledge, and she confessed truthfully, “I was too shocked to do so.” The new bride's pledge of loyalty to her and her empty womb had caught her off guard, leaving her uneasy.

“Your father is not demanding newcomers to pledge loyalty?” He asked, curious about their inner circle practices. She smirked, sensing his attempt to pry.

“Yes, but not to my mother,” she revealed.

“You hold an important position within our ranks,” the right-hand man noted. “And that, my dear, is why we are having this little conversation.” Y/N looked up, finding him extending a glass filled with what she presumed to be rice wine or soju.

“I genuinely want to be your friend Y/N—” he said while passing the glass to her. “But you’re very hard to please, princess,” he exclaimed.

“By ‘wanting to be my friend’, you mean the part when you threaten me again,” she retorted with a scoff, alluding to his past warnings.

“That is a necessary evil,” he conceded. “But on a serious note, Y/N,” he drew closer, taking a seat slightly further away to grant her personal space, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” she asked, feeling dumbfounded by his question.

"Is life here truly so terrible that all you can think of is escape?" he sighed, genuinely curious about her state of mind.

“Not all I can think of—” she began, trying to defend herself.

"Oh, so you did not attempt to escape just a day ago, and two days before that, and so on," he interjected, pointing out her recent attempts.

“What do you want to hear from me Namjoon?” she countered, feeling the pressure of his questioning.

“Hoseok hyung overheard your conversation,” he finally gave away the one piece of information he sought to address “What are you afraid of?”

Y/N gazed into the dancing flames, his words echoing in her mind. Memories of the recent kiss with Yoongi and the ensuing events flooded her thoughts. She felt her spirit on the brink of collapse, her attempts to escape repeatedly thwarted, causing harm to others in the process. Y/N was exhausted.

“I suppose I expected my life to take a different trajectory than this,” she admitted, reflecting on her circumstances.

“I can assure you that this will be the best that ever happened to you—” Namjoon insisted, trying to be reassuring.

“And that, Namjoon, is where my disbelief lies,” she interrupted him, peering straight into his eyes. He sighed, running a hand across his face, expressing a sense of frustration mixed with genuine concern.

“You didn’t give it a chance!” He raised his voice, unable to hide his emotions. He wanted this clan to function as it did for countless years and what’s more, he wanted his hyung to be happy.

“I’m going to ask you once again, and I want the truth,” he implored, trying to get to the heart of the matter. “What are you so scared of?”

Y/N decided to remain silent, knowing that her response would likely incite further frustration from him. "Is it sex?" he suddenly asked, shocking her with his explicitness. "Are you scared to be punished for your sins?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she returned his rage, denying his accusation.

“Am I?” he continued probing.

“Yes, Namjoon! You are! You think I’m this shallow?!” she lashed out.

“No, but all you let us see is the shallow version of you. Apart from this morning,” he declared, referring to a rare moment of vulnerability she had shown.

“And it wasn’t meant for anybody to hear nor see that,” she snapped back at him.

“I understand your reasoning, Y/N. But we’re your family now, you don’t have to shield yourself against us,” he pleaded, hoping to break down her walls.

“He loves you, Y/N,” Namjoon continued, trying to make her see the sincerity in Yoongi's feelings.

“That’s very hard to believe too.” She remarked, still sceptical, looking right through his eyes. He took a deep breath, lifting his hand to touch his face.

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he proposed, catching her by surprise and piquing her interest.

“About?” She asked, curiously.

“Give it a year,” said the right-hand man. By making a deal with her, he is going behind the back of his leader and, even more importantly — his dearest friend. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to do this for him.

"If you're still 'scared' of whatever you say you are, and this is not the life you'll be comfortable living, I'll personally see to it that you'll be transported to America," he promised, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“What is the catch?” Y/N wasn't naive. She knew there must be some ulterior motive.

"You'll stop being a flight risk. If you attempt to run again, the deal is off, and I will personally eliminate each person foolish enough to aid you since your arrival—one by one, ending with your cousin," he stated, laying out the condition.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she absorbed his chilling words. Her mind raced as she contemplated her choices. "That's the only condition?" she asked, ensuring she understood the terms before giving her answer.

"Well, naturally, I expect you to genuinely give it a chance, meaning that you will accept Hyung as your husband, leader, and lover," he emphasized the last noun, urging her to take his words seriously. Y/N stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts together.

“This is a one time offer Y/N. I won’t be this generous again,” he added. She struggled to read him, but she couldn’t. Namjoon was well known for being unpredictable — a quality that made him a perfect fit as the right-hand man. No one could ever say with certainty what his next move would be.

“Fine,” she finally relented, her voice barely a whisper. Namjoon extended his hand, sealing the deal with a firm shake. He leaned in closer to Y/N.

“I trust that you’ll be on your best behaviour from now on.” He whispered to her. There were so many emotions in her eyes right now that she was working hard to process. She barely nodded and averted her gaze down. Y/N couldn’t bear to look into his intimidating eyes no more.

“Very well,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on her. “The tunnels have been cleared, and the wedding will take place this week." He told her.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the impending wedding. She was praying that perhaps she has more time to think of what to do with her situation. According to Seokjin, who came to visit and spent some time on occasion with her when his leader could not, the tunnels wouldn’t be cleared out until the end of December, giving her another month in total.

“Brother!” exclaimed Namjoon suddenly, breaking her train of thought. Y/N followed his gaze to the sliding door, where Yoongi stood, undoing the cufflinks of his shirt, the suit jacket already gone. "I was just telling Y/N the good news," Namjoon smiled at him.

Throughout this month, Y/N observed the strong brotherhood among Yoongi's most trusted and closest men. The deepest connection Yoongi shared was undoubtedly with Namjoon, which explained why he was the right-hand man.

Yoongi displayed a particularly protective nature towards his younger brothers. She had yet to meet Jungkook, the youngest, who had been recently assigned as captain of the front unit, as she overheard. On the other hand, Jimin was more involved in the open, managing the front business and whatever lay beneath it. The Chosen Hotel was highly popular among Koreans but was eagerly open to international guests too. Y/N suspected that the true core of the business was settled elsewhere, and she was eager to uncover it.

Seokjin, recently married, primarily served as the inner family's doctor. However, the Min clan also faced a shortage of actual medical staff like, so he had to run between the sanctuary, as she had learnt this place was called, and a front hospital.

Taehyung remained a mystery to her, despite seeing him in family pictures and hearing Yoongi mention him occasionally. He was supposed to represent the law in Yoongi's business dealings, ensuring the safety and legitimacy of their operations, including the handling of illegal earnings. Therefore, Taehyung is the safety pin of this organization. Whomever fucks up, he is there to defend them.

And lastly, Hoseok, a surprising contrast of joy and darkness. Y/N was taken aback that such a buoyant personality could be involved in such sinister activities. He was the arsonist who also took care of assassinations. Additionally, the clan engaged in money laundering, and Hoseok was responsible for collecting debts, often involuntarily.

Her eyes swelled with tears she was refusing to let out. Yoongi’s eyes met Y/N's, and she could see a mixture of concern and worry flicker across his face. A silent understanding passed between them, and they knew that they would need to have a private conversation later.

“Well, it seems you two need more privacy,” said Namjoon while he was collecting himself from the cushion he was sitting on.

“Did Tae call?” Yoongi asked before Namjoon could leave. “He did before Hyung’s wedding, to send his good wishes and—” he gazed over to Y/N who was carefully listening to their conversation, hanging on every word.

“—and?” Yoongi asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, a sight she had seen far too often for her liking. He was not shy with her; he could easily undress before her without a second thought. His attempts to walk in on her while she was changing didn't go unnoticed either, though she made sure to show her displeasure by throwing vases at him to keep him out.

Only now did Y/N remember the glass of alcoholic beverage that Namjoon had offered her, remaining untouched in her hands. She decided to take a sip, trying to ease her nerves before the conversation she was dreading.

“—and everything went well, as expected,” said Namjoon observing her as she downed the burning soju.

“Send telegraph to Wang and other families. We’re leaving for Chosen in two hours.” Y/N straightened herself, eyes wide open in disbelief.

“W-what do you mean in two hours?” She stammered. It was just past eight when she gazed at the clock on the wall. That would mean they'd depart at ten and arrive in Seoul around midnight.

"—I thought they just cleared the way. Why are we—" Yoongi cut her off abruptly. "I am waiting no more," he said firmly, locking his gaze with hers, leaving her in shock once again.

"On your way, please inform the maids to pack, and I want the cabin ready," Yoongi instructed Namjoon, who memorised every task with a sense of responsibility, seemingly disregarding Y/N's shattered spirit in the wake of this sudden rush.

“Can we at least talk about it?!” she raised her voice, causing the two men to stop in their tracks. They exchanged knowing looks, making it clear that this was non-negotiable. Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting his cheeks from inside, then turned to face his fiancée with a deceptive sweetness in his tone.

"Of course, my love," he said.

He nodded to Namjoon, who immediately took off, glancing at Y/N with a silent reminder to behave.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked nonchalantly as if this were a perfectly normal scenario.

“I don’t know, do you think this is right?” Y/N kept her tone tense, signalling her discontent.

“Nothing is more right than this,” he answered, pouring himself a drink while taking her empty glass and refilling it with soju.

"Yoongi—" she began to protest, but he didn't let her speak further, having heard her excuses countless times.

“No Y/N. I’m not negotiating this time. We’re getting married tomorrow afternoon and that’s final,” he stated sternly.

"You could at least wait a day! Do you think everyone will just jump because you said it's happening right now? And more importantly, let me mentally prepare for it?!” Her frustration grew, and she gestured wildly, almost knocking over the refilled glass that Yoongi handed her.

“They are already in town. The telegraph is just a confirmation that it will happen tomorrow.” Her distress and panic were understandable; she had believed she had more time than a few hours.

“And you didn’t think of telling me first?!” she raised her voice even higher. That she was in distress and panic was very understandable. Y/N thought she had more time than a few hours.

“No, because you were finally letting me in—” said he, downing the contents of his glass in one go.

“You knew this would happen for a month, and you would have had more time to prepare yourself if running away fifteen hundred times a day wouldn’t be on your mind,” he fired back, raising his voice at her, and immediately asserting dominance.

"I'm getting very tired of this. One step forward and ten million miles back, damn it!" he cursed, slamming the glass down on his desk in frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, and Y/N felt her heart sinking as she realized that her hopes of a slower pace for their relationship had been shattered.

“I have a very easy solution to that—” she said, raising herself to stand up to him.

“—Let me go,” she emphasized every single word, her frustration boiling over, and momentarily forgetting about her deal with Namjoon.

Her emotions were running high, and she went to pull the ring off to prove her point, but he forcefully grabbed her right hand, stopping her in her tracks. Anger filled his eyes as he crossed his other hand, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and crashed his lips onto hers, pressing their bodies against the nearest wall. He didn't give her a chance to catch her breath as he passionately bruised her lips.

He let go of her hand once he was sure she wouldn't resist. With his now free hand, he lifted her leg, wrapping it around his waist, squeezing her ass cheek, making her yelp and by that creating an opening to slip his tongue into her mouth. Y/N had no idea how long their intimate encounter lasted, but she could feel her head spinning from the lack of oxygen. Just as she managed to stop his other hand from slipping under her dress, aiming for her pulsing heat, he parted from her, both of them breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he apologised, his eyes fixed on her now swollen lips. Y/N was taken aback, her head still spinning, and she couldn't think straight. He had such a powerful effect on her, and this aspect of life was entirely new to her, having been kept away from such experiences.

"I wish, —" he started, nibbling at her lower lip while he continued to speak, "—you would acknowledge my love for you." Yoongi kissed her again, not giving her a chance to recover or speak up, moaning softly into her lips.

"We are too close. I will never give you up.” he declared, wiping her tears away gently.

“I can’t have you running though—” he leaned into lavish attention on her neck, placing butterfly kisses up to her jaw and stopping at her lips again—

"I'll overlook this lapse of senses if you keep up this good behaviour, my love, but the next time you disobey me, I won't only discipline you; someone will lose their head.”

She trembled against him, feeling lost, scared, and vulnerable. Her breath hitched as she tried to speak up. Yoongi was beyond himself for getting her into this state where she didn’t dare to oppose his words and stopped fighting him. If she won’t let him in willingly, he will force her to open up to him.

“I told you to not take that ring off your finger ever again.” She remembers the words he uttered to her in the garden where he proposed to her. That she agreed still feels surreal to her. Running got her nowhere, but she still had a selfish feeling inside her that he was bluffing and wouldn’t dare to seriously hurt anybody.

“Now be a good girl and apologise for disobeying me.” He tightened his grip at her waist, finally staring right into her teary eyes. Y/N felt lost, scared and vulnerable. Her lips were trembling, and her breath hitched again once she opened her mouth to speak.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby, just say it.” He cooed, lifting his hand to caress her cheek gently.

“I-I am sorry,” she finally sobbed. If there was one thing the scarred boy excelled at, it was getting his way. He smiled at her, pleased with her response.

He smiled at her. “That’s more like it, baby.”

Y/N longed to curl up in her small apartment, where she resided while studying at college. She desperately wished she could turn back time.

“I have something for you,” he said suddenly, looking for any sign of curiosity from her. Yoongi stepped away to his desk, leaving her pressed against the wall, hesitant to move an inch. He opened one of his drawers and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn't make out the handwriting, but her eyes widened as she recognised it.

“Your aunt entrusted me with this letter when we came to the conclusion that you should be mine one day,” he said, holding the envelope in his hands. Y/N desperately wished that the answer and a solution to her fears would be contained in that envelope. She was mulling over the platform of this match-making her aunt orchestrated.

Wang Xiaoqing very much upheld the meaning of her name in the time she lived. Blessed with intelligence. And she was a fearless mafia wife who brought pride to her late husband. There are other intriguing things about Y/N’s beloved auntie. Xiaoqing is by far the only member in her large family tree that married for love. Y/N admired her aunt and, perhaps, seeing that it was possible to marry for love, made her blindly believe she could also have the freedom to choose her partner.

She dreamt of a little house in the woods, not far from a lake or a small town. Growing some goods in the garden, by night sitting near the fireplace, the love of her life holding her. She would work in a nearby hospital, or study overseas to become a doctor were all part of her fever dream. She knew it was unlikely to come true, given her family's ties to the syndicate.

But she could least dream about it. For a moment, when she was on the ferry to Jeju Island, she thought she would make it. Y/N knew the risk she was taking once she entrusted her well-being to Chan-yeol. She knew his role was insignificant and not a threat to any syndicate and it wouldn’t certainly attract Yakuza, but she was also aware that he could have been the only one to send her to the far land. She believed that God chose this path for her instead of being an arm jewel to some Yakuza brute.

Reality snapped her back from her swirling thoughts as he put the envelope back in the drawer.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked, taking a step forward.

“I will give it to you—” he promised “and tell you everything you want to know—” locking the drawer with a key.

“—After you’ll walk the aisle to me, without any of your misfits,” he finished his sentence.

"To strengthen your cooperation for tomorrow, I'm having your cousin and her husband at gunpoint during the ceremony," he added, making her scream in protest.

"I won't do anything stupid," she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Just let them be, please. They have little son, Yoongi.”

“I know, that’s why they are the perfect bargain to make you obedient. If this doesn't work, you still have other family members—," Y/N couldn't bear it any longer; she closed the distance between them, standing just inches away from him.

“If you would love me—” she started but before she could finish, he grabbed her waist and pulled her even closer, pressing his body against hers. She could feel his torso and lower body. He bowed down next to her ear.

“I’ll stop this necessary coercion when you’ll learn your place, my love.”

Yoongi loved making her squirm and overwhelm her. He was basking in the effect he had on her. The fact that she will be his wife in less than twelve hours was a source of satisfaction for him.

“You were my woman for a long time now, and you will be my woman till death do us apart.”

I N T E R L O G U E

“—And you’re certain that the man is on his way to Seoul.” The leader inquired of his trusted friend and partner, seated in the quiet confines of his home office.

“Yes,” Hoseok affirmed with a nod.

"Is there any additional information that I need to be aware of?” Yoongi's voice carried a hint of tension, his teeth gritted in anger.

"As of now, there's nothing more to report," the younger male replied, keeping the conversation concise.

“Do you want me to eliminate him?” Hoseok offered, waiting for his leader's command.

“Not just yet, I was hoping to have the pleasure myself.”

to be continued

author’s note: so here we are at chapter IV!! ♥ Thank you all so much for for sticking around chummers ♥ They kissed and much moreee!!! We'll see what we'll happen next. I hereby promise to post the chapter sooner than the end of Semptember, or I hope so xD Tho I have some wips to write and if I'll finish some then I'll post something new too ♥

Massive shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you!!!!

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love,

𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

taglist: @beautifulcloudfestival - @chaoticpuff17 - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss @secfir @btspurplesky @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin

[thebardisabird]

this is the first request ive ever made, but how would the boys react to a classic Bimbo reader? with classic blonde hair, pink clothes, expensive bags and nails, stuff like that😭 this may be a bit strange so dont answer if you dont wanna, i was just curious. thank you so much lmao 😭

We know her, we love her, she’s that girl!

So Osomatsu immediately goes gaga for you. I’m talking heart eyes, drooling, unable to think coherent thoughts kind of enamored. From your pretty long eyelashes, to your super short mini skirt to pink boot heels - he can’t seems to pick a spot where he wants to look! Every single inch of you sings sex appeal and he’s listening very intently. He knows he definitely cannot afford you tho - so he might pull off the same stunt he did for Chibimi and just about sell his soul to get a date with you. (Honestly when I think of all the characteristics you describe matched with Oso I think of @girlymatsu ‘s oc Erina-chan who is super cute and fun, please check them out, you can tell they put a lot of love in their art and you'll absolutely love their oc)

Karamatsu sees your fashion sense and instantly wants to be the Ken to your Barbie. You have this it girl factor that draws him in and with the sway of your hips and the wink of your pink, glittery shadowed eye, he’s completely under your spell. If you so choose to give him the time of day, he pays you compliment after compliment, and will take you out on a date to get coffee or a nice meal depending on what you’d like. If we’re talking about a classic bimbo trope where you’re a little on the less well-read side, then he might find it cute that you don’t really know how to pronounce some of the words of the meals or coffee drinks and he’ll try to use the opportunity to teach you some fancy words. You actually find his poses and flowery speech kinda funny, because he sounds like a poem out loud.

Choromatsu has no idea how you're even talking to him right now. He's seen you plenty of times and never ever imagined you would even say two words to him other than like... "Excuse me" if he was standing in your way. You are so far removed from all the things that encompass his life. Yet when you tell him that his favorite has super cute outfits and that you were thinking about becoming one yourself because you love the idea of all the glitz and glamour it brings, he short-circuits. You're already so gorgeous, to think of you being in cutesy outfits and dancing around? And he's allowed to talk to you? Associate with you??? The man is ready to die happy. But not as happy as when you dress up in his favorite idol's outfit - only it looks ten times better on you because your bigger chest and ass. While you don't exactly understand his love for anime, manga, and other more nerdy things, you humor him because he's just so cute when his little froggy face lights up the way it does!

Ichimatsu is intimidated entirely by you and will actively go out of his way to avoid you. You are like a beacon of light far too bright and undeserving for him to ever even get close to. Luckily for him, you notice one day that he's looking into the window of a cat cafe and you finally tap him on his shoulder and ask about whether he likes cats or not. It takes about everything he has not to throw up on the spot, but he is seriously questioning his life and whether or not some god above is about to smite him. You try to explain to him that you actually really love kitties as you point to your kitten paw choker and show him your baby pink matching kitten paw nails. At some point he realizes that you're not fucking with him and he slides out of fight or flight mode and into general nervousness. It takes a while before you can actually get him to speak (you're literally such a bombshell against his disheveled-ness, he feels very grateful that he's conscious enough to give you short answers instead of fainting like his body wants him to), but you eventually give him your number. When you part ways, then he slumps to the ground, but with the tiniest of smiles on his face.

Jyushimatsu actually makes you nervous. It's very clear that you're super attractive and bubbly, but there is a genuine sweetness to him that makes him stick out from all the other meatheads who try to normally get your attention. The yellow clad matsu isn't very subtle about staring at you and your appearance, but you honestly don't mind it when he says things like "Your hair reminds me of the sun!" or "You look like a pretty pink cloud today, haha!" The guy is just so adorable it makes you giggle. And when he smiles right back (even bigger than his usual grin), it makes you blush a bit. You end up leaving lipgloss on his cheeks all the time because you just find him so cute.

Todomatsu can't get enough of you once he gets to know you! You two feed off of each other's cutesy personalities. And since pink is both of your signature colors, you guys end up matching outfits a lot. Though the price to pay with you two being so matchy-matchy is that everyone else literally cannot stand being around you two lol. But that's fine to either of you because you both just chalk it up to them being rude and jealous and you pay it no mind...it's either that dynamic orrrrr you end up hating each others guts because only one of you can be the cutest in Akatsuka. Though that scenario ends up in an enemies to lovers situation because even though Todomatsu says he can't stand you - he definitely admits to himself (and only to himself at first) that you are positively gorgeous and the only person worthy of being at his level of pretty in pink.

[sleepanonymous]

hello fellow worshipper ^^

so from most of II’s drum cams i’ve seen, you can barely hear Vessel’s vocals… like do you think that ever makes him sad? not being able to properly hear his pretty siren voice on stage? :(

ofc feel free to ignore, i’m just a curious dude :)

Heeey, thank you for the ask! And I’d never ignore you or anyone else (on purpose, but my object permanence is as bad as a newborn's, lol) 🖤🖤

So, I have two answers for you. My first answer is that, yes, II probably does feel some type of way about not hearing Vessel’s amazing live singing (or even the Vesselettes, or III and IV). It’s obvious he’s a fan of the music he writes with Vessel, and he gets really into it during certain songs like Atlantic, where pauses between the percussion parts exist. But if it makes you feel better, II absolutely loves what he does and fully kills it every time he goes on stage. I’m sure it’s a sacrifice he willingly makes.

My second answer is much more technical and would apply to any touring drummer/musician, not just Sleep Token, so I’m just gonna shove it under a cut to hide my nerdiness, lol (and also not to shatter anyone's illusion with how much planning and work goes into live performances).

What we hear in II’s live drum playthroughs and what II hears while playing is a lot different. Performing musicians wear unique earplugs/earphones called in-ear monitors (I’ll abbreviate them to IEMs). The IEMs have several purposes, mainly to protect musicians’ hearing and allow them to hear themselves and backtracks while performing over everything else during a concert (because concerts are loud, obviously lol). But the IEMs also enable the musicians to hear other things, like the stagehands/sound techs can speak to them, they’ll more often than not have a metronome going, and they may even have spoken cues like, “Verse Two in 4 3 2 1.”

I can guarantee that II has at least a metronome going during all of Sleep Token’s rituals. Since none of the band really speaks on stage (I don’t count III’s yelling), II also might have either Sam (his drum tech) or an automated voice telling him what song he’s playing next, along with a numbered countdown for the beginning of the song. II might even get in-the-moment verbal queues from Sam, or Sleep Token’s FOH, Thom.

This isn’t Sleep Token, but the video below is an excellent example of what I’m talking about. I don't expect everyone to watch the whole thing but it's great, tempo changes, count-ins, and everything. Flash warning, just in case.

The two screenshots are from the same video and add a bit more information on what a musician might hear in their IEMs during live shows.

I might be alone here, but I really wish Sleep Token would release at least one of the live drum recordings with an in-ear mix like the video above. I’d nerd out so hard over hearing exactly what II or any of the other Eepy guys (especially Vessel during The Summoning, omg) are hearing live in their IEMs.

I know there are people who do mockups on YouTube of Popstar’s supposed IEM mixes and I swear if I had any musical knowledge or video editing skills it would be my self-proclaimed mission to put an in-ear mix into all of Sleep Token's live shows 😅😅

[orangesaek]

Ok so I've been learning Korean recently and thought it was so cute how 포포(popo) means kiss and 포도(podo) means grapes.

So Ive been thinking of a cute scenario with Mark where his s/o is learning korean and mixes the two up when asking for grapes and it makes mark super flustered.

omg my boy mark lee 🥹 i could easily imagine his flustered face lmao should i name this "the grape mistake"? 👀 sorry anyway, thanks so much for requesting this! let me know what you think ♡ hope you liked this! a/n: not proofread. lowercase intended.

mark was working in the studio late at night when you texted him that you'll be visiting him at the company to bring him some snacks and just hang out until he finishes work since you didn't have anything to do the next day anyway.

he mentioned about craving some street food the other day, and so you went to the night market. of course, knowing how much your boyfriend loves watermelon, you started looking for the nearest fruit stand. much to your dismay, the only fruit stand that was open that time ran out of everything else except grapes.

it hasn't been that long since you have moved to korea, but you were already quite quick to learn the language (also thanks to mark's help). however, you never really bothered to learn some of the most basic words for some reason. like fruits, for example.

you were just standing in front of the fruit stand quietly for about a minute, trying to remember a word you never even learned before. you were just about to say grapes in english when the stall owner decided to speak first.

"do you want to buy some grapes? they're fresh," she said. you knew she was talking about the grapes (because obviously there was nothing else in her stall but grapes), but it was the first time you've ever heard of the korean word for it.

"i'm so sorry, but what do you call this fruit in korean?" you asked, hoping she wouldn't find your question too silly. the stall owner gave you a bit of a puzzled look before realizing that you were a foreigner.

"it's called podo," she kindly repeated. after thanking the kind lady and memorizing the word in your brain, you went on your way to mark's studio.

on normal occasions, nobody else but strictly the company staff and artists were allowed to enter the building. however, thanks to mark's popularity within the company and the company actually owing him a lot of gratitude, you were given a bit of a special treatment as his girlfriend.

you were about to knock on the door of his studio but decided otherwise, thinking he might be in the middle of recording something and end up disrupting his work. instead, you sent him a text message that you were already outside of his studio, and thankfully, he was able to immediately open the door for you.

"my babyyy," he greeted in english, clearly delighted to see you again. more often than not, the two of you spoke in english whenever you're alone together. when his members are around, however, you'd mix korean here and there.

he ushered you inside before taking the food you bought for him and placing it on an empty table. he then opened his arms wide and patted his chest for you to come to him for a hug.

"you know you didn't have to bother, but thank you so much for all of this, babe" mark said as he tightened his embrace. "really appreciate it, thank you."

right after eating, mark went back to work while you quietly scrolled through your phone. the two of you were in comfortable silence though, and that was one of the many things that mark appreciated about you. you weren't the type to constantly seek for his attention, and you knew how to entertain yourself when he's busy.

"babe, there are still some grapes left, right? can you please get them for me?" he asked. you got on your feet and passed him the remaining grapes.

"thank you," he said before putting his headphones back on. he placed the grapes on the right side, which was on the other side from where you were seated.

while you were scrolling through your phone, you could see mark pop a grape or two in his mouth every now and then while he was on his computer. you never got the chance to taste one while you were eating earlier (because you were too full), and looking at mark just eating it so deliciously made you want to have some, too.

mark was about to put another grape in his mouth when you lightly poked his left arm. he then looked at you, the grape still between his right thumb and index finger.

"podo juseyo~" you asked in an aegyo voice, both hands open in a gesture to receive. mark blinked at you twice, suddenly feeling flustered while you were there just cutely blinking your eyes at him, waiting for him to give you the grape he was holding.

"w-what?" he nervously asked, his ears turning red at seeing you ask for a 'kiss' after briefly having a coughing fit (poor boy just choked on his own spit). it was definitely not the first time the two of you have shared a kiss, but it was the first time for him to see you ask for it so cutely.

"podo," you repeated. "isn't grape called podo in korean?"

mark's mouth fell in an 'o' after realizing what you have just said. he took off his headphones and asked you again if you were asking for podo, and not a kiss.

you broke into laughter, with mark sheepishly laughing along with you for his mistake. after laughing for a good minute or two, you then took mark's right hand (which was still holding the grape).

"babe, we can get the best of both worlds," you said, still chuckling and smiling in between. mark looked puzzled, wondering what you meant.

"we get to split the grape in two and kiss each other at the same time. like this," you raised mark's hand to your mouth, placing the grape between your teeth and motioning for him to lean forward.

mark chuckled at your idea but leaned in for a kiss and a bite of the grape anyway. needless to say, it was literally the sweetest and juiciest kiss he ever had.

- end.

requests are OPEN! feel free to send me an ask ♡

[garyroachsanderson]

i love your hcs sm!! do you think you could write 141 best friends hcs with reader getting hurt?

HI YES SORRY IVE BEEN ILL

141 best friend hcs— reader is injured

(requested) cw for blood, injury, near death, stuff like that

GAZ

when i tell you this man would scream at the top of his fucking lungs

he would do his best to stop the bleeding, but would also make fun of you as your face paled

“big strong y/n couldn’t handle a bullet, huh?” (this is the man who sat down and buried his head in his hands and hyperventilated after scraping his knee during a night out drinking)

he’d be there the entire time, but wouldn’t try to fight medical professionals from taking you off

“bitch, wake up”

he wouldn’t be allowed in the hospital room, and get pissed off, and proceed to tweet angrily outside. he knew you wouldn’t die, but he was scared you would, and it would be without him there to help you.

once you were awake, you’d probably send him some shit like this ^

he would then proceed to immediately run to your room and violently noogie you before hugging you

GHOST

now.. something is wrong with this man. he wouldn’t scream, he wouldn’t start crying out of anger or anything healthy. he lets out a guttural wail inside of his head as soon as he sees you’ve been downed.

if you’re near him, he’d drag you to a closed part of a building and desperately but calmly try stopping the blood. he’s learned a lot of tactics, and making himself appear like he’s staying calm is one of them.

his heartbeat is about 500 beats per minute rn. your flesh is now pale, which is unnerving considering your usual skin tone. he’s not trained in patching others up, and he doesn’t know how to fix that. he says something and you don’t respond so he raises his voice and goes “Stay with me, kid.”

incoherently mutters into comms, just completely trailing off

just cradling you the entire time until evac arrived, which he tried to follow but went with price and soap

if he was not by you, he’d keep asking questions until he got answers or he didn’t

“ C/N, come in. Do you copy?”

(radio silence)

“C/N, do you copy?”

“ . . . “

“..Fuck.”

moves through rooftops to find you, scouring the city like some kind of demented superhero.

would use his scope to try and spot you through any of the windows

he’d send out like 5 calls for an evac when you didn’t respond, but he’s searching in his spare time

NEARLY broke down crying when he found you slumped in a tiny apartment

he definitely thought you were dead and the anxiety in his voice was real. a tear and a sniffle or two might have been shed before he found the weak pulse in your neck

doesn’t move from your side ONCE, he stays up for days straight until you wake up or is slumped in a barstool

SOAP

thinks you’re joking for the first 2 minutes after you say you’ve been hit

SPRINTS to your location

you’re always together so of course he blames himself that in the 5 minutes you were apart a bullet tears through your chest

when panicked he just starts speaking heavily accented english or full out scots gaelic (he learned it from an old teammate), not out of choice but he noticed it keeps your mind moving when he does so he keeps doing it

one time while injured you went “gaelic more like GAY LICK” and then passed out and he laughed then cried

always thinks he’s going to end up in a vietnam war veteran position holding you

while carrying you to evac you repeated one of ghosts shitty jokes and he nearly dropped you out of fear/temporary resentment

the last words you hear before you die are going to be a mix of “hells fuckin bells” or “sweet baby jesus”

PRICE

this man’s friends are all dead. he’s had men die in his arms before and he’s scared every time that it’s going to be you

NO NO NO NO SOAP SOAAAPPP

absolutely silent, just trying to keep you awake and alive

this man will never leave you alone, you are ALWAYS with him and if you’re not you’re to be looked over by gaz. and if you get injured on gaz’ watch he’ll never hear the end of it

has definitely thought “if y/n dies im killing everyone in this room and then myself” but wouldn’t dare say it out loud

he’d drop everything he was doing, doesn’t matter if it was in the middle of a mission

STAY WITH ME SOLDIER

he puts his hat on you just to shield your eyes from the absolute liveleak that is your abdomen (or the sun, depending on the weather)

you wear his hat until you wake up. if you don’t, you’re being buried with the hat on your chest. that’s your god damn hat now

doesn’t understand what you’re saying but will pretend to laugh if you make a joke

ROACH

would kill everything in his path until he found the one who hurt you

you like to shout “GOOOOOOOD MORNING VIETNAM” just to scare the living shit out of him

141: “i fear no man, but that thing..”

(bloodthirsty roach)

“it scares me.”

he’s nervous and it shows. he’ll cry

he’ll stand outside the door until the doctor lets him know you’re stable (he wants to give you privacy of course)

if you’re afab then he’ll literally pause before taking the gear off your chest because he doesn’t want to invade your privacy. he just shuts his eyes and hopes for the best

he will carry you through hell in order to get you to evac

lays his head on his arms on your legs when you’re in a hospital bed

“i didn’t sign up for this”

that one audio that’s like “oh my gosh.. what do i do?? euuGGGHHHH”

[cassyapper]

jotaro kujo is a big softie that loves his friends so incredibly much and he needs to ensure their safety to be calm and also he’s a giantass fucking loser dork OR:

what the oingo boingo arc tells us about jotaro despite him barely being in it

first things first, jotaro being in the back with avdol and kakyoin when they’re wounded

what does this mean? it means jotaro could only soothe his nerves while on the drive to the hospital by being the one to tend to avdol and kakyoin

i come to this conclusion because it certainly wasn’t cause of space issues: polnareff is shorter than jotaro and also weighs less, so it probably wouldve been less cramped if he was the one to go into the back. but he’s not. you might then argue that no one else would’ve been able to drive, but then i argue that joseph could’ve driven and jotaro couldve been in the passenger seat. but again, that’s not the case. jotaro is only able to handle the wait by being the one right beside kakyoin and avdol while theyre wounded

to expand upon this, jotaro is the one who left for avdol and kakyoin way before joseph or polnareff. all this leads to the conclusion jotaro was really worried and the only way he could soothe those worries was by being by their sides and seeing for himself how things were going

now for the meat

polnareff wasn’t afraid of touching “jotaro” or manhandling him. this is strange... we’ve seen jotaro when he’s annoyed and pissed off about how people treat him; he literally kept an actual list of all of steely dan’s transgressions so he could properly get payback. he knows his strength and he knows how to use it so people leave him alone

but polnareff is unflinching in his action here. he doesn’t think twice about treating jotaro like a little kid who needs help getting into the car. what can we conclude about this?

one might argue that polnareff is willing to risk it this once because he’s worried about avdol and kakyoin and doesn’t want to wait around, especially because he’d be safe from a beating because of the constraints of the car. however, to counter this, let’s again remember jotaro’s strength; it would be very easy for him to push back and never be forced into the car at all before punching the daylights out of polnareff, especially because as discussed earlier, polnareff is smaller than jotaro. polnareff is impulsive but he’s not stupid, he knows they don’t have time for a brawl

which means, jotaro would’ve allowed this. jotaro is fine with being touched by his loved ones and even thrown around by them because if there is one thing jotaro can speak fluently when it comes to communication, it’s physical action. we also see this in how he lets joseph shove him against the wall when holly first falls ill and how when he was with yellow temperance kakyoin, he didn’t mind that “kakyoin” shoved him a bit (until that shoving had him almost fall to his death). whos to say he Likes it, but he clearly doesn’t Mind it so long as its coming from a friend. he trusts they wont take more what he’s willing to give in regards to his personal space

next, iggy is willing to sit next to “jotaro” and is even comfortable enough to sleep next to him

this is presumably because he earned iggy’s respect in the n’doul fight and handled iggy’s bullshit with the gum with relative grace -- showing that he’s not gonna hurt iggy over it, at least

i just wanted to point this out to show that iggy and jotaro were friends too. ive said this before but this implication makes me think jotaro, alongside avdol, was one of the only ppl allowed to pet iggy

now the implications of the famous cigarette trick

jotaro is not a showoff kinda guy. he doesn’t like bringing attention to himself, especially not “ohh wow that’s so cool!!” attention like a cigarette trick would give him. at least, not from relative strangers, like the girls at his school -- but if its from his friends, clearly his tune changes a bit...

i come to this conclusion because sure, it’d be one thing if jotaro only did this trick with the single cigarette polnareff has; he mightve done it to earn some respect and otherwise “cool” points from the crusaders so he can be alone in peace (they would be intimidated to bother such a cool guy)

but jotaro does this trick with FIVE cigarettes

he literally has no reason to do that other than to wow the crusaders at this point. this goes beyond just garnering some respect; this would be jotaro going out of his way, wasting cigarettes as he does so, to make people Look at him. like you see why this is fairly abnormal right?

so how else would one explain this behavior? well, it’s obvious to me: jotaro enjoys making his friends smile. he doesn’t mind it when it’s THEIR attention on him, because he trusts the intentions of it. it’s not burning or prickling or unknown like a stranger’s attention might be to him; it’s comforting, it lets him know he’s seen, it lets him know they care. i dont think jotaro would like ever THRIVE under attention per se, but he would really like it nonetheless coming from his friends, which is what this proves to me. he wants them to look at him and smile and root for him and revel in his accomplishments with him, an experience he doesn’t award just anyone

also it goes to show that jotaro is willing to put down the cool guy front near the crusaders cause honestly, doing this fuckin thing with five cigarettes is, while impressive, not necessarily a badass guy thing? you only learn to do this if you have a bad smoking habit and are bored out of your mind -- not particularly cool, but funny and relatable. which i think is the thing...jotaro WANTS the crusaders to relate to him. im goign nuts. basically jsut like...he loves them. he loves the connection they all have to him and it opens facets of himself he never thought would see the light of day. it lets him relax and just...be himself (which is a weirdo funny kid btw) for a bit. he doesnt need to be constantly cool or whatever to be comfortable in front of them

next, the way joseph and polnareff respond to “jotaro” clearly not being okay

what this response tells me is a couple of things:

1. jotaro has come undone or nearly come undone in front of them before. the way joseph and polnareff glance at each other before immediately launching into theatrics, jumping from one scenario to another so theres no time to think, tells me that they know what jotaro would appreciate in this situation -- and that’s a distraction from whatever his thoughts are with something so ridiculous the absurdity alone will shock jotaro out of it for now. they also know not to question him; making jotaro think about it even more will just lead to disaster. they only take what jotaro can give them and dont ask for more

2. the way they know jotaro wouldve appreciated a distraction means to me theyve talked to him about this before, presumably during the previous times he came undone. jotaro would rather die than truly talk about his problems so he probably told them “just- just distract me. i can’t stop thinking” (cause jotaro probably has anxiety disorder but well anyway). polnareff and joseph listened to that and they adhere to it here which we can see with the thumb and orange things. this is further supported by the time kakyoin changes subjects when it comes to light avdol and iggy died. cant overthink if you dont have the time to, right?

anyway this got long. basically, jotaro loves his friends and they love him too

[hella1975]

would LOVE to know full details to the culture difference bestie when you've got the time because I'm kinda just a sucker for that. also. were we too nice for you tell me more about that

here we gooooo here's a rundown of the top things that were really jarring to me as a brit in america!

kinda dumb that i feel the need to say this but ive been burned before: americans, if you're going to send me shit about this list, please first reread what you've typed and ask yourself 'am i addressing this person as an actual real life adult that not only has experienced both countries she speaks about but also has perfectly functioning social skills that allow her to navigate what is and isn't a culture difference, or am i talking to her like a condescending little prick?' this includes messages like 'americans aren't actually ___, we're just ___ which clearly went over your head as a silly foreigner :)' do u understand how condescending messages like that are as the person who was there? this list is me saying what was strange to me AS A BRIT IN AMERICA. it is a comparison, not an objective statement of something ive decided is a fact about your culture. im not writing this so people can try and like. educate me on all the things i missed because america was just soooo complex. okay? stunning

you guys were SO nice like i think the best way i can contextualise this for an american is that the first time i felt actually comfortable (not that i was uncomfortable otherwise but i mean in a social sense) was when we were in new york city. no one looked at me no one wanted to talk to me people were shouting and being rude to each other it was just like home <3 the way americans are friendly is just so intense and it took me a good while to stop being so bowled over by it. like if you met someone one time they'd try and hug you and i found that very very strange

americans generally talk about their feelings a lot more and i dont even mean just from the people i interacted with bc that very well might have been because i just got on well with them so we were talking honestly, but even on commercials and things you guys talk about mental illnesses and such like it's a grocery shop whereas in england there's still very much a stiff upper lip culture about that kind of thing

you guys do speak louder. like objectively even 'quiet' americans were louder than most brits and would be glared at in public if we were in england just bc of the volume they were speaking at. you also inflect more. again i think this is another thing that boils down to americans being very bright and intense while the english are renowned for not wanting anyone to look at them ever. like a bug under a rock

FREE REFILLS!! i have not shut up about this but if you order a coffee somewhere then you have in fact ordered UNLIMITED COFFEE. the first time a waitress leaned over me to fill my coffee up i flinched away from her bc i was like what in god's name are you doing

if you try and make a hot drink in america then you are taking your life in your hands. you have to filter the water, find whatever apparatus this specific house uses to boil water, remind yourself that americans have a vendetta against milk so you have to use creamer which is 'exactly like milk' but 'you wouldnt drink it like milk' so what the fuck is going on there, and then by the time everything's done you want to go out back to curl up and die like an old dog. dont get me started on tea

one thing i thought was cute is that you guys say 'come get in the AC' the same way we would say 'come get out of the rain' like that's such a cute little human thing i think

AC itself is such a godsend but me not being used to it was kind of baffling to americans. boom's brother asked me what my ideal AC temp was at home and i just. looked at him bc i didnt even know where to start with that

it took me WEEKS to stop trying to get in the driver's side of the car

american ignorance is a very real very frustrating thing. 'whats that thing they do in europe-' idk bc ive never been to all of europe. 'when i went to europe-' where in europe. it is a continent. i got asked if we have fireworks in europe. bonfire night is older than the founding of america. there's just a genuine belief amongst americans that they're not even AWARE of (because it would be smart, nice americans that i genuinely liked saying these things) that america is the most elite country in the world and is the only place to have certain things

speaking of the european thing with americans, the fact that 'travelling to europe' is typically a bragging right over there and is seen as quite an upper class thing is very interesting. a lot of the times people would be bragging TO ME and it would go over my head bc id be like 'well anyone can go to spain'. i feel like shagaluf would give americans an aneurysm

the sheer size of america never truly registered with me until i was there like i cannot wrap my head around it. the uk can fit in lake michigan 4 times. you guys have cargo ships on lakes. the roads just go straight for miles and miles and miles. you have every environment and weather possible. literally obsessed

capitalism is actually way more intense in america. like yeah it makes sense america is thee capitalist country but i guess i thought because i was coming from a western capitalist country myself that it wouldnt change much. but like. billboards on roads. adverts while you pump gas. there is someone selling u something everywhere u look

tipping was so hard 😭 i knowwww it's necessary i understand the econ behind it all but i was so stressed all the time because of it 😭

YOUR STARBUCKS IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN OURS

i knew i was going to have to change the way i spoke in america bc of obvious things (my accent isnt The British Accent that americans recognise, i use a lot of slang etc) but it surprised me just how much i had to change. like by the end of it i wasnt using any slang and i was enunciating every letter because i was just so tired of saying something just for boom to have to literally translate bc like? it was no fault of theirs or mine or even the person i was talking to but it just made me feel Weird and Odd and most surprising of all was that it made me feel stupid? and i guess that's bc i get a lot of shit for my accent over here too so im oversensitive to it but ive never properly felt more like a foreigner in a different country than i did trying to talk to americans

sarcasm. im just. like the running joke is that americans dont get sarcasm and id have actually preferred that i think bc what instead happened is you guys have AMERICAN sarcasm and it just. made no fucking sense to me at all. i literally did not get american humour even slightly it was probably my biggest thing when i was over there like i literally felt like entire conversations were going over my head. british humour is very dry so not only did i not get american humour but sometimes MY humour would be misinterpreted as well and the entire thing was just very strange lol

RIGHT ON RED????? RED MEANS STOP???? WHAT ARE YOU DOING????

[empressaraceli1992]

Four Little Words pt 2

Whoosh…beep…whoosh…beep…whoosh

Soap's awareness came back slowly. The gentle whoosh almost lulled him back to sleep if it weren't for the insistent beeping racket. He could feel the thin sheets of a cot beneath him. A gentle hum of machinery told him he was inside again. 

Blinking slowly, Soap took stock of his surroundings. It was dark, the blinds to his small window drawn shut. The only source of light was a small lamp on the bedside table. There was an IV in his left hand and an oxygen mask on his face. That explained the whooshing. 

Groggy Soap lifted his hand to the mask - he didn't need this anymore. A hand shot out of the dark, latching onto his wrist, and stilling his motions. Ghost appeared above him, emerging from the shadows like a wraith. Soap blinked at him.

"Leave it on." Ghost's voice was rough. Soap cocked his head at the lieutenant. "You almost died." Ghost growled, releasing Soap’s wrist he flung himself away - pacing angrily. "The hell were you thinking letting that little shit almost drown you?!" 

Soap frowned, pulling the mask below his chin. "I dinnae understand."

"I said keep it on!" Ghost grabbed Soap's hand, gently guiding the mask back up to cover his nose and mouth. "You don't understand how he almost killed you?" 

"I dinnae - " Soap attempted to pull the mask back down - Ghost fought him pressing it firmly against his face. Exasperated Soap pushed Ghost's hand down so he could speak. "I dinnae understand why yer angry." Soap said at last, then relented allowing Ghost to press the mask back against his face.

"That fucking wanker almost killed my Sergeant." Ghost snarled. "Of course I'm angry."

His Sergeant…of course Ghost didn't care about Soap. He cared that he almost lost his subordinate. Soap felt his chest ache as his rib cage was split open again. How stupid to think Ghost might have cared about him. Teammates…just teammates.

"Johnny? Johnny, hey, hey easy." Ghost sounded panicked. The whoosh of the oxygen had picked up whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh. "Johnny, you have to relax."

Relax? How could he? The ache in his chest turned into a burning coal. Shoving Ghost's hands away Soap yanked the mask off and threw it. It didn't go far thanks to the tubing, but Soap didn't care.

"Why do ye care?!" Soap wheezed, his lungs burned with every word. "Why are ye even here?" Soap doubled over as a fit of coughs overtook him. Ghost grabbed him by the shoulders forcing him, gently, back onto the bed while pressing the mask back onto Soap's face. 

Soap fought him weakly at first. He wanted to hit Ghost, to hurt him the way he had hurt Soap, but Ghost was faster and stronger. Pinning Soap's arms to his side, Ghost forced the oxygen mask back onto Soap's face. Exhausted, Soap slumped back into the pillow glaring at the lieutenant. Soap felt like a petulant child - the familiar prick of tears welled up along his lower lashes. He refused to let them fall. Not here, not now, not in front of Ghost. Not again. 

"You think I don't care?" Ghost's eyes were unreadable for the first time since Soap had become close to him. Carefully, Soap reached a hand up to Ghost's patting it twice. Ghost warily lowered the mask. 

"We're just teammates…" Soap blinked back the tears. "So you dinnae need to be angry at Parker."

Ghost lifted the mask back up to Soap's mouth. Soap accepted he wasn't going to be free of the damn thing until Ghost left and let the lieutenant do as he would. He did however leave his hand wrapped around Ghost's wrist in a selfish moment to prolong contact. Even if it wasn't skin to skin. 

Ghost was silent for several minutes, turning something over in his head or simply making sure Soap didn't remove his oxygen mask again Soap wasn't sure. Then-

"You think I don't care…about you?" Ghost asked at last. A clarification. He helped Soap lower the mask slightly. 

"Why would ye after the…ye were angry at the bar." Soap rasped, looking at the lieutenant as though he had lost his mind. Ghost lifted the mask back up to Soap's face.

"Just because I don't…" Ghost paused, Soap's heart fell as he watched Ghost chewing on his words. "Just because I can't…ugh." Ghost growled. 

Soap felt his heartbeat in his chest slow, bu-bump…bu-bump…bu-bump. He lifted his hand to the mask, pulling it down.

"It's fine." Soap's voice sounded foreign even to him. "Don't worry about it L.T." Ghost eyed Soap warily - concern coloring his features. Soap couldn't feel anything past the mind-numbing pain in his chest. Letting his hand fall limply to his side Soap watched through hollow eyes as Ghost secured the mask back to his face - completely unaware of Soap's internal turmoil. Ghost watched him for a moment longer before nodding, and then got up and left as quietly as he came. 

Though his eyes remained open, Soap knew he didn’t sleep, he did not see anything that happened for the rest of the day. He was aware of the coming and goings of the nurses as they checked his oxygen mask and his IV by sensing their body heat nearby, but he didn’t shift his gaze to look at them. He didn’t greet them when they entered nor did he answer their questions past the simple one word reply. Eventually, Price came to see him. 

“Afternoon son.” Price slid into the empty chair next to the bed, his hat in his hands. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Soap answered, his voice strangely level. “The doctor said they’ll release me soon, and I should be cleared for duty, sir.” 

“Are you sure you want that son?” Price patted Soap’s knee. “There’s no rush to come back in.”

“‘Course I am.” Soap huffed. Price watched him carefully for several long seconds, as though waiting for something to contradict his words. When that didn’t occur Price let out a weary, very fatherly, sigh. 

“Alright then, when you’re released come to my office. We have a mission, and I think we could use your particular skills in.”

“Gonna blow something up Cap?” Soap asked mildly. Price looked at him like he had grown three heads. Soap LOVED demolitions. 

“Well…actually no.” Price shifted in his seat, appearing somewhat uncomfortable. “I was hoping to utilize your…”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

GHOST POV:

Ghost was pissed. He was pissed at himself. He was pissed at the situation. He was really fucking pissed at Parker. When he saw a recruit barreling through the hall like the building was on fire he shouted at him to stop. The terrified recruit–he couldn’t even remember the man’s name–sqeaked that Sergeant MacTavish had been injured and he was supposed to… Ghost didn’t hear the rest. Storming back the way the recruit had come from, Ghost flung the door open to the training yard. The door slammed against the bricks, but he didn’t care. He had to find Soap. 

Making a b-line for the obstacle course where Soap had been charged with training the recruits he saw the rest of the recruits circling around something on the ground. Ghost could just make out Soap’s mohawk peeking out between a pair of feet. Faintly he could hear Gaz shouting something. Ghost had never moved so fast in his life. One moment he was by the gym, the next he was shoving through the recruits demanding to know what happened. His eyes fell on Soap.

Why is he so pale?! Ghost almost didn’t hear Parker blubbering beside him, apologizing. 

“You did this?!” Ghost snarled, grabbing Parker by the throat. 

"Easy Ghost!" Gaz shouted. "It was an accident!" 

Ghost ignored Gaz and tossed Parker like a sack of potatoes. “Get the hell out of my sight.” Kneeling next to Soap. Ghost took the Sergeant’s head in his hands, turning him gently to face up, and  leaned over him, his clothed ear hovering just above his nose. Ghost shuddered with relief – Soap was breathing!

"Why haven't you moved him to medical?" Ghost demanded, lifting his head away. Soap’s mouth was bleeding from a busted lip, but there didn’t appear to be any other outward physical injuries. 

"'M fine." Soap coughed. "Just let me sleep…"

"No Johnny." Ghost argued, tapping Soap's face gently. "Don't go to sleep. Not yet."

Not yet. Not until I know you’re safe. 

"Pffff. What d'ye care…" Soap sighed. Ghost felt like he’d been slapped. Of course he cared. He wanted to kill Parker for hurting Soap. Didn’t Soap know that? Soap rolled to his side. Bracing his arms beneath him he carefully pushed himself up to his knees, then to his feet. Swaying unsteadily, Soap tilted, a hand pressed against his head. "Fucking hell." Soap groaned.

"Johnny?" Ghost leapt to his feet placing his hand on Soap’s shoulder. "Johnny, hang on." 

"I dinnae need–" Soap shook off Ghost’s hand turning to glare at him – his eyes rolled back up into his head. Ghost caught him before he struck the ground. Lifting the Sergeant up into his arms, bridal style, Ghost sprinted away from the training field. 

“You’re going to be fine Johnny.” Ghost growled. “You hear me?” Soap muttered something unintelligible, probably in Scottish. 

Ghost stayed by Soap’s side until he woke up in the middle of the night in medical. The thick headed Scot kept trying to remove his oxygen mask and give Ghost a heart attack. 

Ghost mulled over their last conversation in medical. How Soap had said it was ‘fine’, but then Soap…Soap didn’t look fine. Ghost felt like such an arse. He had meant to tell Soap he wanted him, of course he did, but he couldn’t have him. Couldn’t taint him. Ghost had no idea how to do relationships. It was hard enough to be Soap’s friend with his less than – or more than in this case – friendly feelings for his Sergeant. 

The past few weeks had been hell for Ghost. Soap was polite as always, amenable, but he avoided Ghost. He wouldn’t spar or workout with Ghost anymore. Hell, Ghost couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Soap in the mess for dinner. It hurt — it hurt a lot, but no less than he deserved after he hurt Soap at the bar already…

That was five days ago. Soap was safe, he was healthy, but Ghost hadn’t seen him since. Ghost wondered where the sergeant had disappeared to.

“Ghost?” Price’s voice cut through Ghost’s spiraling thoughts. Ghost blinked. He had forgotten he was in Price’s office in the middle of a briefing for their next mission.

“Hmm?” Ghost made a non-committal noise hoping Price didn’t realize he hadn’t been paying attention. 

“You’re far from a field son.” Price laughed, patting Ghost good naturedly on the shoulder. “I was saying, are you good to go in without the mask?”

Without the mask…? Ghost glanced over the plans in front of him on the table. It looked like a club of some sort. No doubt Price had some sleazy drug lord on the chopping block. 

“Affirmative.” Ghost didn’t see the point. It wasn’t like anyone in the club would recognize him anyway. 

“Good.” Price handed him a folder. “I’ll have your suit dropped off at your room.”

Suit? Ghost groaned internally as he took the file. He would have to read up on the operation since he hadn’t paid any attention to the brief. It was going to be a long night. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Laswell had secured them a hotel room just a few blocks from the target’s club. Each member of the 141 had been given their own room. Ghost had done his research properly this time. The target was Dimitri Parkarov - a regular mafia wanna be with his hands in the local police, drugs, sex trafficking, and other such underhanded practices. Problem was he was too big for the local authorities to take out on their own without serious backlash. So the 141 had been brought in to not only take Dimitri out, but to also get intel on his support system. 

Ghost met with Price and Gaz in Price’s room to go over the final plans for the operation. When Ghost inquired where Soap was Price simply informed him that the Sergeant was doing recon for the team, and had been doing so for the past several days. This irritated Ghost more than he was willing to admit. He couldn’t even rationalize why it bothered him so much. Hell Soap was almost as good as he was at stealth ops, almost. But that wasn't the point. 

"Alright boys," Price leaned over the table gesturing at the blueprints of the building. "Once we're inside, Ghost will make his way here." Price traced his finger to the center of the room in front of a large stage like area. "Where he will get eyes on our target. While Ghost is front and center: Gaz, you and I will head up to the VIP room to keep watch from above for Dimitri's partner. When we have both targets in sight, Soap will create a distraction so we can take out the targets. Ghost you are to grab Soap once Dimitri is incapacitated, and move to the office. Gaz and I will cover you."

“Please, for the love of all that is holy tell me you did not give Soap explosives.” Gaz groaned. 

“Perhaps.” Price chuckled. “You’ll just have to wait and see. Now go get dressed, both of you.”

++

Ghost didn’t know who Price’s stylist was—if he had to hazard a guess he would say it was Laswell—but even he had to admit they had taste. The suit Price had delivered to his room was nice. A solid black suit with a matching silk button up, and dress boots that made it easy for him to move in. To his delight Ghost discovered several hidden pockets inside the suit jacket for his various knives. Ghost showered, shaved, and put on an amber musk cologne that had been sent along with the suit. Once dressed, Ghost met Price and Gaz out in the hall.

Price wore a suit similar to Ghost’s, but where Ghost’s was black, Price’s was navy blue with a cream colored button up shirt. Gaz had chosen to wear a mesh shirt over black jeans, a wide belt, and heavy boots. 

“Damn Ghost.” Gaz’s jaw dropped. Ghost gave him a withering look. 

“He cleans up nice.” Price agreed, crossing his arms. “Come on lads, the car is waiting.”

Laswell had an expensive sports car waiting for them just outside of the hotel lobby with Nikolai behind the wheel. Price and Gaz climbed into the back while Ghost slid into the passenger seat. The drive to the club was less than ten minutes, but Nikolai took a detour to give them a layout of the surrounding buildings. 

The club itself was carefully hidden between two larger industrial buildings. Nikolai dropped them off at the front door. The bouncers were—if they could even be called that—well paid bodybuilders with poor training if the eight knives Ghost managed to sneak in were anything to go by. Unfortunately for Ghost his suit jacket was taken at the door. 

Thankfully Ghost kept other knives hidden in other places along his body. Price led them through the dark hall to the main area of the club. Dimitri kept his establishment lit with black and red lights–leaving plenty of shadows for Ghost to be able to slip into once he put his mask, currently hidden in his pocket, on. Though if everything went according to Price’s plan that would not be necessary. Price paused just inside the main room turning to Ghost. 

“Go introduce yourself to our host.” Price ordered, reaching up to unbutton the top three buttons of Ghost’s shirt. “Get in position on the large couch, and I’ll signal Soap. Whatever you do, don’t lose Dimitri. Got it?”

“Affirmative.” Ghost waved them off. Price took Gaz by the arm and led him up to the VIP room. Ghost made his way through the crowd to the center stage with a large lowered curved red leather couch. Ghost would have preferred to sit in a darkened booth out of sight of onlookers, but he needed to get Dimitri’s attention. So instead he sat in the middle of the large red couch facing the large stage. Leaning back, Ghost crossed one leg over the other and watched the room out of the corner of his eyes.

After a few minutes a waitress approached him and set down a glass of dark liquid in front of him on the small round table. 

“From your friend in the VIP.” The waitress explained when Ghost gave her a questioning look. Of course Price would order him a drink. Ghost resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Picking up the drink he took a tentative sniff: bourbon. Humming his approval, Ghost took a sip just as a slim man took a seat next to him. A greasy haired man with pinched lips, a hooked nose, and soft jaws settled pompously next to Ghost eyeing the sniper greedily. 

“Hello, my handsome friend.” Dimitri crooned as he motioned for a waitress to bring him his own beverage. Ghost lifted his glass slightly with a non-commential hum. “Strong silent type? I like it.” Dimitri slid closer. “I have something that might loosen that tongue of yours. A saucy little minx I found.” Dimitri gestured to the stage signaling the DJ. 

Ghost almost gagged at the scent of Dimitri’s cologne. Whatever poor woman he had in mind to dance in front of him wasn’t going to easily  distract him enough from that. Thankfully for Ghost an associate of Dimitri’s drew his attention forcing the man to slide away momentarily. Ghost took a deep breath of fresh air. Holding his bourbon up to his mouth he used it to filter out the filthy smell. A slow beat began as foggers filled the stage with mist. From the back a lithe form sauntered forward. The glass in Ghost’s hand cracked. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soap was seriously going to have a discussion with Price about utilizing his ‘skills’ in the workplace. Going undercover wasn’t an issue. Dancing around half naked with a group of strangers wasn’t even the issue. Hell, getting groped by Dimitri’s sleazy clients wasn’t even the worst – a quick knife under the chin quickly deterred that treatment. No, what Soap had an issue with was that Price expected him to show his specific ‘skill-set’ off to Ghost and Gaz. 

Price had sent word a day ago that Ghost and Gaz would be joining him to help take out their target. Soap was tasked with causing a distraction for the team while Dimitri and his client’s were eyes were glued on stage. Soap wondered idly what Ghost would think when he saw his Sergeant perform. Gaz no doubt would rib him tirelessly, but Ghost…Ghost there was no telling. 

“You thinking about your boyfriend again?” Eric teased sliding next to Soap as he applied the last line of his eyeliner. Soap rolled his eyes in the mirror. Eric was cute: tall, blonde, but too lean for Soap’s liking. Eric’s boyfriend James was more to Soap’s taste—much taller with broad shoulders, and thick muscles fit for crushing. On more than one occasion Eric had offered to share James in a night of fun, but Soap had declined. 

“I told ye.” Soap huffed picking up the leather choker off the counter. “I dinnae have a boyfriend.” The choker was a simple piece he had found in a nearby shop. A thin band of leather with a metal skull pendant that set snugly in the hollow of his throat. Call him a sentimental fool, but the choker made him think of Ghost. 

“Here let me.” Eric plucked the choker from his fingers. Unlatching the choker he slipped it around Soap’s throat and gently closed it into place. The choker latched very much like a dog collar. Soap found that he liked that best, as the snap on chokers when he had to perform the more physical moves on stage. “You’re awfully dolled up tonight.” Eric commented. “Who are you getting all pretty for?” Eric secured the choker with a fond pat on the back of Soap’s mohawk. 

Soap gave himself a once over in the mirror. Eric was right; he had actually dressed up a bit more than usual tonight. He had selected a nice pair of black leather jeans that hung low–too low for him to wear underwear beneath, but he wouldn’t tell Eric that—and for tonight he had chosen to put in his nipple piercings. Steel bars that glittered in the low lights. He’d even applied a sheen layer of body oil across his chest that made him smell good, and (if he did say so himself) look good. 

Eric had chosen a pair of red pants with a matching vest and bowtie—the upper pieces he would traditionally strip and toss into the crowd as the night progressed—and even a pair of red studs for his ears. It was all really rather flashy to Soap. 

“I heard Dimitri has some high end clients coming in today.” Soap admitted with an exaggerated eye roll. “He said we should look our best.” 

“This lot better not be as handsy as the last bunch or I swear James will throttle someone.”

“I thought he liked to share?” Soap teased.

“He’d like to share you.” Eric laughed. 

Together they made their way out to the back of the stage. James was already there selecting the music with Dean—the resident DJ—wearing a similar outfit to Eric’s. As they drew nearer James looked up, raising an arm to accept Eric in a half hug. 

“You should see the beast that Dimitri has sitting with him tonight.” James smirked, kissing the top of Eric’s head. 

“Beast?” Soap asked incredulously, peeking through the curtain. “What beast?”

Soap’s eyes swept the dark room taking in the dim lights, and waitresses fluttering around. He spotted Dimitri easily enough—the man really was ugly with swallowed jaws, and a hook nose. It didn’t stop him from thinking that he was hot shit, but hey when you had dirty money you could do what you wanted Soap guessed. Following the line of patrons next to Dimitiri on the ghastly red couch Soap searched for Jame’s supposed ‘beast’—and choked. Sitting a few feet away from the slimeball was the most gorgeous man Soap had ever seen. His man. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley in a black silk button up and dress pants never looked more edible. 

“I dinnae what yer worried about James.” Soap whispered. 

“Then you can handle the beast.” James laughed, slapping Soap on the shoulder. 

Gladly. Soap thought. 

Dean flipped a couple of switches—on stage the foggers kicked on filling the area with mist. Together the three of them took their positions behind the curtain as the music began, a low sultry bass that really got the blood pumping. Soap stood in the middle facing the crowd, while Eric stood to his left, and James on his right. All three had their heads tilted down, chins to their chests. Soap took a deep calming breath—as he let the music wash over him. He ignored the fact that his lieutenant was sitting a few meters in front of him. He forgot his feelings for the man. He forgot that his captain and his fellow sergeant were also watching somewhere nearby. Instead he focused on the two men next to him and began to move.

The first part of the dance was simple: the three of them walked to the end of the runway where a pole had been installed. Two chairs had been set out prior to the left and the right of the pole for Eric and James—while Soap took the pole. Moving to stand in front of the pole, Soap grasped the pole behind him with his right hand above his head and with his left below his waist. For the first time since he stepped out Soap locked eyes with Ghost as he began to sway his hips—big mistake. Ghost’s eyes were blazing, the whiskey glass in his hand was at serious risk of being crushed between his long fingers. 

Shooting his CO an impish grin Soap lifted himself in the air with his arms alone. Twisting until he could wrap his legs around he swung, and then let go with his hands and hung upside down by his legs facing Ghost. Stretching his arms out behind his head, Soap stuck his tongue out. The glass in Ghost’s hand shattered. Luckily for Ghost he had been holding the glass slightly off to the side so it didn’t splash all over his pants. Tearing his eyes away from the shocked expression on his Lieutenant’s face, and hiding his own smile, Soap completed the next set of moves including an aerial split, and a drop that stopped a hair's breadth just before he struck the floor. 

Landing lightly on the balls of his feet, Soap saw Ghost’s dark eyes bore holes into him as he sauntered over to Eric and James to complete the last part of their dance—where Soap was ground between the two men in an almost erotic sandwich. 

“I think beasty likes you.” Eric whispered. “Should we make him jealous?”

Soap rolled his half-lidded eyes. Ghost, jealous? Yea right. Ghost wouldn’t be jealous of anyone laying hands on Soap. “Do whatever ye like.” Soap sighed. “He won’t notice.”

“Let’s see about that.” James agreed, mouthing at Soap’s shoulder, careful to not leave a mark. As much as he might tease Soap about joining in the fun with Eric, James would never mark Soap without his consent. Soap appreciated that. Peeking under his long lashes, Soap watched Ghost—rigidly sitting against the couch now—watch the three of them with renewed interest, his dark eyes trained on James with murderous intent. Soap tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach as the music came to an end. 

Slightly breathless, Soap bowed with Eric and James. Together the three of them stepped down from the stage. Dimitri motioned them to stand in a line in front of Ghost and his two legitimate clients. Dimitri made a grand gesture with his hand at the three of them, while leaning towards Ghost. 

“Feel free to take your pick, my friend.” Dimitri purred. “They will service you in any way you like.” 

Soap felt Eric and James stiffen considerably next to him. Dimitri had never offered any of them like this before. Thankfully the other two clients did not appear particularly interested in the three of them, but that did not settle Soap’s unease. 

“Sir, I–ugh.” 

Dimitri’s decorative cane shot out striking Soap in his side. Eric and James groaned in sympathy beside him. 

“Quiet.” Dimitri snapped, turning back to Ghost. “I apologize sir, I assure you the other two are very well…” Dimitri’s voice died in his throat. If looks could kill Ghost would have killed him a thousand times over. 

“I’ll take him.” Ghost growled, gesturing at Soap. 

“Excellent!” Dimitri shot Soap a look. “Take our esteemed guest up to the VIP room and see to his needs.”

“Yes, sir.” Soap inclined his head. “Right this way sir.” 

[sailorshadzter]

ive been writing a lot for other ships lately.

so here's some jonsa ft. sansa making the move on her man

She wonders when the knock comes to her door, if this interaction will save her soul, or simply break her heart. 

Eyes shift towards the door and for the briefest of moments she thinks she won’t open it; she thinks of him out there, palm pressed against the wood, gray eyes downcast, a hitch to his breath he probably doesn’t even recognize. Waiting, hoping, just as she’s been. But, she rises up a moment later, a sigh escaping as she takes hold of the knob and pulls the door open. Of course, there he stands, eyes widening slightly with his surprise, softening at the sight of her. “Sansa…” His husky vocals speak her name in a way that sends shivers down her spine and she steps back, silent, allowing him to slip inside. 

Just like that, they were as they once were, trapped between a moment of what was and what could be. Neither of them speak, for there’s no words to be said, not now, perhaps not ever. He knows he should speak the truth, should tell her all that has happened since the day he last left Winterfell, but she’s glaring daggers at him, making him wonder if coming to her rooms had been nothing more than a mistake. “Well, you’ve come for a reason haven’t you?” She finally asks, the fight fleeing from her with another sigh. She returns to the chair she once occupied, reaching for the pitcher of wine when she sits, two goblets there at the ready. When she turns back to him, Jon nods. “Well, come on then,” she says, exasperated, pouring the first goblet, which she pushes across the table, so he might take hold of it when he sinks into the chair opposite her. She pours herself the next goblet and doesn’t bother to recork the pitcher, as if she knows more will certainly be poured. 

“I don’t know where to begin,” he says, speaking honestly, his admission bringing a chuckle from her lips. 

“Just the truth.” 

They’re both thinking the same thing then- of the moment they had shared early that day, neither getting the answer they truly desired. Back then, the truth had been closer to the tip of his tongue then it was even now, for the sight of her distress then had been enough to nearly undo him. But now, she’s quiet in her calmness, the goblet of wine at her lips as she takes her first sip. “I’m afraid you won’t believe the truth,” he admits, softly, the words changing her. Her hand stretches out across the table top, as it’s done before, to take hold of his, giving it a small squeeze. 

“I’ll always believe you, if only you just told me,” she says quietly, not withdrawing her hand. 

Jon lets out a shaky breath, his other hand falling into place over hers; she’s soft and warm, something he’s missed all these months without her. He knows he owes her this much, the truth of it all, but he had thought… Had hoped… That sparing her the truth would keep her safe. The less who knew, the better, but then again… Swallowing against the agony of it all, he opens his mouth and begins to speak, weaving for her the tale of the time he’s been away- of what he’s had to do and why. And of course, that’s not it. There’s the other truth as well. 

By the time he’s finished, the pitcher of wine is nearly empty and she’s drawn her chair around the table to sit beside him instead. “It changes everything,” he says, dejected, but somehow relieved now that the truth is out there in the open. “It’s as I’ve always said, I’m not a Stark.” 

“You are,” she shoots back without hesitation, the clarity of her statement forcing his gaze back up. Her blue eyes are gleaming in the firelight, her shoulders squared, the look upon her face one he’s only seen when he dares not argue back. “Your mother was a Stark… And so was your father.” He opens his mouth, as if he means to protest, as if he thinks she’s not come to understand what he’s just told her. “Ned Stark was your father, Jon. He raised you, fed you, clothed you, protected you. He was your father as much as he was any of ours.” Jon feels tears stinging in his eyes at her passionate words and he closes his eyes against them, opening them only when once more, he feels the touch of her hand to his own. “I’m sorry Jon, for not believing in you as I should have.” 

“I didn’t exactly make it easy for you,” he admits, forcing away the need to take her hand as well; his fingers ache with it. 

She smiles, tilting her head, red hair falling across her shoulder. “It wasn’t just about giving up your crown, I was jealous, in truth,” she speaks freely, perhaps thanks to the wine, perhaps thanks to his own honesty. When Jon arches a brow in surprise, she chuckles in spite of herself. “Jealous of her. Of you being with her.” His breath catches, heart skipping a beat, the realization of her words dawning as quickly as she says them. Jealous… She was jealous? “She is quite beautiful.” 

“Not as beautiful as you,” he says quickly, more honesty. 

A blush stains her cheeks and she stands up, closing the small gap between them so she can sit down on his knee, the weight of her both warm and comforting. His heart is beating so fast he wonders if she can hear the sound of it as she leans in, close enough to kiss, close enough to taste. “When you were with her… Did you think of me?” She asks so quietly he wonders for a moment if he’s only just imagined her speaking at all. He blinks, trying to find the words to stutter as a reply, uncertain if he should tell her that truth: that yes, of course he had. All he can do is give a single nod and it’s all he needs because her lips are on his then, the feel of her hands sliding into his hair sending shivers down his spine. 

His arms twist around her hips, drawing her in, the kiss only intensifying with this new placement. Jon feels her hand unbind his hair so she can run her fingers through his curls without fail and one of his hands is stroking the long length of her hair, the other pressing against the small of her back. How long has he wished for this moment to happen? “Sansa, I…” He rasps when they break apart, breathless, but longing for more. The sound of his voice saying her name in such a way melts her and she sinks into him.

This was where she’d wished to be for so long, now that she was here, she can barely believe it. But he’s kissing her this time, long and true, his hand tangled in the locks of her hair, his other palm still warm against her lower back. 

This was a place she would stay forever.

[ge]

sumt about chung myung having a (relatively) softer heart than tang bo makes me melt... u can see tang bo doesn't reach out to things that he feels doesn't need it, but chung myung actively takes things into his heart... man i love how they're so diff from how they're presented as. usually the smiley, touchy one would be the self sacrificial one

(idk where this is from but is tang bo actually cold to others when not in front of chung myung...? this is such a popular thing i see in works lol)

yall genuinely have no idea how often im thinking about tangchung character studies theyre so interesting to pick and prod at.. chung myung keeping his softness under so many many layers of rock hard defense and even when u get close enough to him to break those walls down, hes so unused to being unprotected that gentleness feels like something that has to be coerced, gripped, and dragged out of him, affection making his chest feel clogged and cumbersome, and love felt so heavily it feels like it could bring down the sky.. he feels with such an overwhelming excessiveness that displaying it freely in any way other than casual familiarity feels like humiliation, and asking for it in return even more shameful.. he is a empty house hungry to be lived in and yearning for a flame but he would much rather let his terse and concise and seemingly brutish actions speak louder than his softness, no matter how it may end up being interpreted....my long winded way of saying i think chung myung has an extreme hedgehog dilemma and is a tsundere about it

tang bo is a little trickier for me to get a read on maybe bc i hvnt read much about him yet and most of my knowledge of him comes from fics & twt users LOL (which im aware are mostly extremely ooc..it kinda grates on me knowing most or all of my knowledge of him is secondhand and distorted) but i must agree with you.. the tang bo in my head is predominately headcanon ive built up myself so whatever i say about him might be extremely off the mark but idgaf..i like the version of him i have in my head currently..

compared to chung myung, tang bo feels hrmmm..more sociable but impersonal.. im not sure if he can be called cold exactly, but he doesnt seem to show much care or affection to anyone he isnt particularly close with.. he seems to have an almost impassive business type relationship with most people, including his family though it should be mentioned aside from chung myung, he is also friendly towards chung mun and chung jin, having been said to drink w the three of them often.. from what ive seen he seems to treat them like a second family in a sort of way? i attribute tang bos dispassionate demeanor to his family, the way he was raised formed a sort of crust around not, not so much a wall but a poker face..and chung myung was the first person who directly challenged the monotony of his life

smth about the dichotomy of their natures is sooo interesting urhg.. tang bo, a young master of a reputable rich family given everything he could ever want for, taught to be upright and gallant since birth, wearing the seemingly permanent mask of impersonality and tranquility that was hammered into him since young, meeting someone who brought back colour into his dull world for the first time in his life and suddenly that mask starts crumbling and tang bo finds himself happy in a way he was never allowed to be under the watchful eye of his familys strict elders

compared to chung myung whos life was nearly the complete opposite, an orphan taken in and raised in a sect by people who showered him w as much uninhibited familial love as he could want for, taught him to be honourable and respectable, grows up w a penchant for keeping his true emotions hidden deep underneath his surface, not out of malice or obligation but because, unlike tang bo, it was simply how he was..meeting and befriending tang bo made him begin to WANT, for the very first time..to actually show someone how deeply he can care, to peel back the veil and show someone the desperation for intimacy he desires so profoundly that buzzes underneath his skin in a way he couldnt, wouldnt, speak of out of the sheer indignity of it all...yeah so basically what im saying again is that hes tsundere and tang bo saw that and was like i need that gay boy

[kira-moonrabbit]

took a bit but that one post that i said "ten notes and i share my funy godgame cards" got the required notes. ideally i'd be reblogging said post and adding this under it but the boopometer is doing strange things to my dashboard right now.

To preserve everyone's dashboards because cards is big: READMORE! This dish contains a lot of spicy rambles of autistic machismo!

To get it all out of the way: none of these cards will enter the steam workshop. They're just funny cards for get togethers with the pals.

you will also find that i am super inconsistent with wordings and also forget important clarifications. but! that just makes the cards more fun. or less fun. it depends on how often the readers of the cards bicker, which in my case is never often. (i've only played with 2 friends thus far, but I have faith even still.)

i also cannot explain the mechanics of godgame. because.... there's a lot of mechanics. ...I mean, I can, but it's a lot of effort, especially when I don't physically have the board in front of me.

anyways here's our first card... one of my lobcorp OCs in fact!

Denny.... she's one of the originals. She's not as funky as everyone else so she doesnt see much sun nowadays but! I can count on her to be easy to make a card for at least. As the blurb says, she's not ALL hating birds. She, like, has a boyfriend. It's just very funny to play it up for the bit. (She also is easy to rile up.)

Side Note Number One... I have formats and shit. However I dont know and dont want to learn how to work photoshop. so it's all a bunch of pngs that i layer on top of one another individually rather than some sort of photoshop type thing.

this is about what it looks like. dont worry about what "overlay jewel office" means. i am not at liberty to explain jewel office because i didnt create it; i just invent the cards...

OK, card number 2!

sootpy. i drew Soot (another lobcorp OC) as peepy once. i was looking in my doodles folder for an image of another guy ive got in here and i found him. I fudged this card up in about 10 seconds not counting time spend actually putting the card together.

Actual Soot might function entirely differently from sootpy. i dont think the peanut part is capable of functioning.

Okie, next caaaaard...!

Memory Maggot! memory maggot's from my original universe type thing i call elsewhere; hence the unique background. It's a champion card, but since i'm biased and like making card backgrounds, cards from elsewhere get their own backgrounds.

originally this card had different (albeit not by much) art, but then I made my silly memory maggot pixel art and liked it better. memory maggot's a lot more than just memories, but i thought that idea for a card would be funny. and speaking of elsewhere champions...

this is the Everywhen. he also lives in elsewhere. i designed him, but at the same time i don't hold full custody over him so to speak. he's goofy levels of busted, yes, but I think Champions are allowed to be just a little bit like that. For fun.

I don't only make cards of my own OCs, though!

Example: these are the 01-kun, they're from yume 2kki. They don't actually have any of these abilities ingame, but I think I'm allowed to fudge things up a little bit when it comes to these sorts of things. Plus... it makes for a funny archetype.

Yes. The status icon for gay is dr pepper gay icon. I made that myself, actually. In the past I made a whole bunch of just. Dr pepper pride logos for some reason when I made drinking the stuff by the gallon my whole personality... I still have them, and I figured "why let them go to waste?"

This is Pupula-toru, also from Yume 2kki. This one actually has some basis in how the little guy appears ingame. Even if it is a little complicated for a basic card...

See, in yume 2kki, there's this thing called Variable 44. One of the easiest ways to check the status of this variable is to visit Pupula-Toru, as they're not too far in the dreamworlds. They'll be in one of 4 different poses depending on the variable, and two of them are asleep. Variable 44 is what changes other different forms of per-dream RNG, so knowing it is pretty useful for looking for certain things. Therefore, checking on Pupula-toru has a slight rng-manipulation association in my head, hence how it works.

...Well, errors are popping up when I try to post more images, so now I think I'll just make a reblog chain, or more posts and I'll add them to this one later. There's way more cards I wanna show off..........