#if you are out there marketing person please please please let me know the results of your experiment

[oblivion-wonderlust]

ok so this school in my city is advertising on tumblr and i am both horrified and intrigued because:

a) this means that the tumblr algorithm thinks that i am a parent/in charge of a child (i am not.)

but more importantly,

b) someone at this school’s marketing department decided that tumblr is the place to advertise their school.

c) if this is the case, the school actively wants tumblr girlies (gender neutral) to be part of their PTA meetings and to have a horde of second generation tumblr girlies (gender neutral) making up a significant portion of their school.

this leads me to believe that this marketing person is trying to make the “If Tumblr was a school” post (pictured below) into a reality

(via @heritageposts )

is this probably a clueless boomer? sure. but it is also very possible that it is one of us trying to find out what a tumblr school would be like, especially with tumblr girlies (gender neutral) as a part of parent teacher association. if that is the case, this will be the greatest social experiment of the 21st century.

[astermath]

sweet like you🍓

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: carmen stumbles across a local farmer’s market on accident and discovers a family run strawberry stand. he discovers that not only the strawberries are delicious and sweet, but so is the girl selling them to him.

word count: 2.1K

notes: yk what’s really funny,, i never realised so far a lot of my fics involve the color red. perhaps it’s becoming my new favorite color and I love to make it obvious dsgdfsj,, anyways first time writing for carmen, been obsessed w him since the bear came out. i’m a whore for jeremy allen white in case you haven’t noticed. anyways this will def get a part two!!

P.S. let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, requests are open!

Saturday was farmer’s market day.

Every Saturday morning, dozens of independent businesses, farmers and food stands would come together at Lincoln Park to sell their wares. It made for a colorful and interesting blend of smells, sounds and sights, and for most, a great way to start off their weekend.

And Carmen was no exception to this. He’d first stumbled upon it by accident on his way to the Beef. Taking a wrong turn because of his still waking morning head resulted in him walking through the park and, unavoidably, being distracted by what vendors there were. A chef at heart, he couldn’t help but look around the wide array of fresh ingredients available for purchase. He’d taken out his notebook and started writing down business names as he tried a sample every now and then. 

He held a bag of fresh paprikas in one hand, making his way down the line before he came across a peculiar and seemingly very busy stand. The fresh, sweet scent of strawberries allured him, stepping closer to take a look at what they had to offer. And it was exactly that, just strawberries. It appeared to be a family business, your mother and father packing orders, and you at the front taking them and accepting payments. For a second he just kind of stood there, bag in hand, staring at you. There was no way you were from here, Chicago doesn’t let a smile like that survive very long. Or maybe that was just his cynical mind doing its usual thing.

He snapped out of it when you glanced his way, looking to the side. He felt his cheeks getting warmer, embarrassed that just looking at a pretty girl got such a reaction from him. He’s a collected person, he should be acting like one. He took a deep breath and got in line. Lord knows what he’d be using strawberries for, he’d figure something out, might as well just eat them as a snack while the season allowed it.

“Hi! How many?” Your voice was sweet and chipper, something he couldn’t even think of being after taking orders all morning. Somehow, you kept it up.

“Oh, uh...” He looked at your display, before remembering that all you sold were strawberries, so browsing just made him look even more stupid. “How many... Strawberries?”

“Boxes. They’re 500 grams, 5 bucks each. So how many?” Your smile remained the same, though you were slightly amused by his confusion. 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He could have sank into the ground right then and there. Of course you meant boxes, who in their right mind is buying individual strawberries? “Uh... Just one box is fine, please.” He reached for his wallet while you took over a box from your mom.

“Great! That’ll be 5 dollars please.” You took the slightly crumpled bill from his hand, storing it in the tin box in front of you and quickly writing down something on a paper. Seemed like you still did everything by hand, he couldn’t imagine what a mess it would be if he had to do that at the restaurant.

“Here you go, have a great day!” The box you gave him was neatly wrapped in brown paper, with a sticker serving as a business card on top. 

“Uh...” He stared at the sticker, reading over it before looking back up at you.

Ask for her name.

“Yeah...”

Her name.

“You too.” 

You idiot.

He picked up the box and walked away, walking a little faster than usual. He was never good at talking to people, but god, that was just embarrassing. He opened up the packaging, and took out a perfectly plump strawberry. He took a bite, humming as the juicy sweetness washed over his tastebuds.

Lunch rush had just ended, and Carmen was sat outside the back of the restaurant with Richie, smoking as per usual. Except now, a small cardboard box sat between them. It was almost empty as the two of them snacked on the fruit between puffs of their cigarettes. 

“Ya know, I read somewhere on Facebook that these are supposed to help with uh... Cancer or something.” Richie said, throwing the green leafy part back into the box. 

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, cousin.” Carmy smiled to himself, back leaned against the wall as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

“Oh, why’s that huh? Cause I can’t read shit online anymore without having to do an hour of research behind it?” Richie furrowed his brows, blowing smoke out his nose.

“No, stupid,” Carmen put the cigarette out on the concrete. “Cause you’re fuckin’ smoking, man. The fuck is a strawberry gonna do against that.”

“Yeah, well... I try to stay positive, you should fucking try it sometime, ya depressed asshole.” He grabbed another strawberry. “Where d’you get these from anyways? Shit’s pretty good.”

The image of you working at the stand flashed through his mind. “Passed by some random farmer’s market this morning. Might stop by there again, got a ton of fresh produce there for not much money.”

“Speakin’ of produce.” Richie used his thumb to point back over his shoulder to the kitchen. “Place’s out of onions. Your magical farmer’s market got those? Cause we need more by the dinner shift.”

Carmen groaned, wanting to curse at Richie for not letting him know earlier. But honestly, if it gave him a chance to go back, get more delicious strawberries and possibly redeem his awkward first impression to the pretty girl there... It might not be a bad idea. He checked the time on his watch, early afternoon, you’d probably be wrapping up right now. If he was fast, he could totally still make it. “Fine, but I’m taking your car.”

“Don’t crash it.” Richie said as he got up, ready to get back inside.

“You’re the one with a suspended license.” He joked, catching the keys Richie threw at him that were totally not aimed at his head.

“Fuck you cousin.”

Parking was a bitch, as always, but Carmen had managed to find a stall selling onions for about half of what he usually got them for. He was starting to like this market, not just for the prices, but because these were all people who worked hard and loved their products. A lot of work goes into putting something out there to sell, he would know. 

He realized he might be pushing his luck if he still wanted to see you, but he decided to take the chance nonetheless and walk down the lineup. It seemed to be his lucky day, as he caught sight of your parents loading up mostly empty boxes back in the car. You were working on breaking down the stand, doing so with relative ease. You were currently folding up the tables, kneeled down onto the ground. 

Again, he stared. Honestly, how could he not? It wasn’t every day he saw someone so beautiful, and with a sweet personality to match. Granted his only interaction with you had been brief, but still, he got a good vibe from you, and he was usually so distrustful.

You looked up, and by pure coincidence, your eyes met. His eyes were so intense, hues of blue that anyone would recognize, even from a mile away. You certainly recognized them from this morning at least. Your face brightened with the same smile he saw you had before, and for a second he wondered if it was just a customer service thing. 

“Hi! Hope you enjoyed your strawberries!” You got up, holding the folded table under your arm. 

“Sure did.” He put on a bit of an awkward smile. God, why was he doing this... What was he even supposed to say?

Your eyes squinted slightly when you read the words on his shirt. “Nice shirt... Oh, wait, you work at the Beef?”

His body tenses up a little when you mention the restaurant. Given its... Peculiar reputation, that question could be followed up by any kind of statement. “Yeah, yeah, I uh... I kinda run it now.” He decided not to mention Mikey. Seemed a bit overkill to mention your dead brother to someone whose name you don’t even know.

“Ohhh, that’s you! Yeah, I’ve seen you smoking outside before.” You extend your hand and you both introduce yourselves. “I work at a café just two blocks over. You might have seen it, it’s called Odette’s?” 

Carmy nodded. He knew that place. He also knew the cranky old French lady who owned it. “Ah... Yeah. Menu still the same?”

“As long as Odette is still alive, I doubt she’ll ever let me change anything. ‘Over my dead body, cherie’”. You jokingly imitated her French accent, chuckling to yourself.

Carmen smiled, glad that he’s at least not making a complete fool out of himself now. This was good, he knew this, work and food, those were his safe topics. “Yeah, well... Maybe if she tasted one of these strawberries first, you might convince her.” 

“Huh,” You thought to yourself for a second, imagining your usual grumpy boss overflowing with glee after trying the fruit from your family’s farm. “You know what, I’ve never actually thought of that. Maybe I’ll try it out!” You smile. “You know I’ve been meaning to try and serve some of my pastries there. I’m a huge baking fanatic, but she’s so... Set in her ways. I don’t know if my amateur baking skills could possibly convince her, no matter how tasty the strawberries I use are.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like...” Carmen thought about his crew, and how much they loved their so called ‘system’. Change was good, change meant progress, but it was also scary. On that part, he didn’t blame her boss for refusing to switch things up. “If you want, I could help you out. I’m a full time chef, so... Always willing to taste test.” He hoped his poorly masked excuse to stay in touch came across as friendly, and not pushy. He always felt like he was overthinking everything when he was trying to socialize, like he was reading off some type of script. Your chipper personality made things a tad easier, at least. 

“Really?” You seem to brighten up even more. Carmen is sure there’s light shining from your face from how excited you look, but he doesn’t mind. It’s amusing, almost... Cute.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. Just uh... Let me know when.” He puts his hands in his pockets.

“Of course!” You pause, realizing he’s probably expecting you to give him some kind of contact information. Unless he was planning to use telepathic communication. You put down the folded table. “Right, sorry, uh...” You laughed awkwardly and pulled out a pen and an old receipt from your back pocket to scribble your number on, before handing it to him. “There we go!” 

Carmen’s eyes went over the number, putting it in his wallet so he wouldn’t forget to save it later. “Cool, cool... So uh, text you later.” He silently cringed at his own words, trying painfully hard to play it cool. 

“Yeah, totally!” Your mom called your name, and you look over your shoulder, seeing her gesture to you to hurry up. “Be right there, mama!” You chuckled. “Sorry, duty calls! But yeah, I’ll hear from you. And if I don’t, I know where you work, Berzatto.” 

He chuckles slightly at your joking threat. “Sure, I’ll hold you to that.” He gives you a curt wave before walking off and letting you go back to work. 

He really hoped you didn’t mean that “threat”. He’d rather die than let you see him at the Beef right when they got such a bad hygiene rating. 

He was laid down on the couch late at night, watching an episode on the food network about an olive farm in Italy. He wondered if your family’s farm was anything like this one, and remembered he hadn’t even saved your number or texted you yet. Carmen rubbed his sleepy eyes and pulled out his phone, saving your number under a new contact and typing out a few quick texts. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, realized he was overthinking it and fell asleep not long after, the sound of an elderly Italian woman speaking on TV in the background.

[unknown]: hey, it’s carmen

[unknown]: guy from the beef

[unknown]: next thursday work for you?

You groaned in your bed, looking over at your phone and cursing yourself for forgetting to turn off your notifications. “The fuck...” Your eyes squinted at the brightness of the screen. A sleepy smile adorned your face when you read his name, saving his contact and texting something back quickly before putting the phone away and going back to sleep.

[y/n]: for sure!

[y/n]: let’s do 4:30 PM? café closes at 4 anyways so we’ll have the kitchen to ourselves :)))

[mukbangg]

Billy and an ex-outlaw reader who has a bit of ptsd? If you’re still in the market for prompts :)

Omg I have so many of yalls prompts writings in progress....trynna write between school and work. Nonnie, iiiii dk if this is written right might make part 2.

(Me writing during work: you write porn w the same hands you serve coffee ?)

Jesse and his boys were old acquaintances of yours.

Though you never did ride with them, you've crossed paths with their lot quite a few times. What started out as a rivalry had turned into more like friendly competition before you had earned their respect by saving their asses more times you can count.

But when your crimes had caught up to you, resulting in much bloodshed involving your family back at home well...you werent eager to get back in business.

Fact is, you've left your past behind and settled down a little way off a lone town, behind a beautiful spread of a meadow.

A cozy barn, small and snug.

Just like your momma had always wanted.

So when a familiar group of cowboys come trotting through the meadow....let's say you werent all that pleased.

"Jesse,"

You tip your hat at the blonde astride his horse.

"Boys,"

"Well, look who's alive,"

He laughed, swinging off his horse and sweeping you into a crushing hug. You softened with a sigh, patting him on the back.

When you'd decided to settle, he'd kicked up such a fuss, mad that you decided to leave in your prime.

You were like the gang's little sister, or maybe an annoying cousin that swings by every now and then.

"Here lemme introduce you to-"

"Billy,"

You were suddenly aware of the towering fella who had emerged abruptly from the group. Dark curls peeking out from his hat, broad shoulders and a rugged air to him, he was a handsome one. But what takes the cake was his piercing blue eyes, fixed unwaveringly on you.

It would be intimidating if not for how subtly they raked over your body.

"Eyes up here cowboy,"

You mutter to the man lowly, gripping his outstretched hand in a firm shake.

"Replaced me so soon, jesse?"

You turn back to the blonde, raising a brow at him.

"Well doll, Billy heres quite the gunslinger, maybe even better than ya,"

You swat playfully at his chest, a round of laughter rising from the group. Jesse chuckles, before he shrugs, kicking at the ground. You know that look.

"So my boys and I need to lay low for awhile and well..."

He raised his brows at you, a sliver of a sheepish smile on his lips.

"Hell no, jesse, you know I'm out,"

You huffed, shaking your head firmly. Annoyance rises like a whip in your chest, you alway were quick to temper.

"You know that, after what happened...."

"Aw c'mon, just a couple o' weeks? We promise we wont bring you no trouble, we'll even help out-"

You held up a finger, trying hard to maintain your stern facade.

"I cant risk it, such a large group of men, oh I swear to god-"

"Using the lord's name in vain-"

Jesse attempted at a joke before swallowing his words when met with your burning scowl. His group stirs uneasily behind him.

"Just a week?"

Billy's voice rang out. He steps forward, blue eyes pleading as a warm smile crack over his lips. You sighed, ready to turn down his offer.

"Towns people talk, what if they see y-"

"We'll do chores, we'll earn our keep, surely you can use the rest, miss? It's a big place to take care of,"

Now that, was tempting. Your barns not huge but you're only one person, and the day passes quick when you busy about with the chores. And to add on, a group of men you trust does put your worries at ease.

Living away from town always had the threat of robberies and whatnot, especially for a lone girl like yourself. You've hidden pistols everywhere in the house, one slung around your hip, though you're never sure if you'd be able to pull the trigger on someone when it comes down to it...

What a joke, you used to be one of the most feared outlaw with an aim as true as the sky is blue.

Now you cant even stand the sound of your door slamming.

"Fine,"

You finally relented, clicking your tongue with a jerk of your head to allow the group to flood into your house.

They cheered and hollered, Jesse and slapping Billy on the back before heading in.

"G'job butterin' her up Billy boy!"

"Y'better believe I'll be working the lot of you to your bones!"

You huffed after him, before turning back to Billy.

"And you! I swear t'God if any of yall give me trouble I'm coming for you first!"

He leans close, tipping his hat at you with a smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

"Your wish is my command, pretty,"

Billy brushes past, leaving you all flustered and red in the cheeks , with a looming dread that you've got more than a few rowdy cowboys to worry about.

What did your momma used to say?

Butterflies in your damn stomach.

(Haiii I'm lowkey bad at story stuff might make a part 2...? If yall want? Gimme some ideas what you wanna see in part 2 if you want)

[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 11

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 2.8k

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | AAAAND WE'RE BACK! it's been a month since the last update! consider this as a new season for mc and tae :)) u might find this chapter a little fast-paced or not idk.. let me know ur thoughts! enjoy reading <;3 ps. sorry for the errors!

main masterlist | series masterlist

A couple of years passed, two to be exact, and a lot of things happened. The bakery became more crowded. It was renovated and had a larger space instead of moving the entire bakery to another place. They began hiring extra help, usually part-time working students who used to be customers in the shop too. 

Also, turns out that Jimin has a kid. Taehyung met Jihoon just a week after his best friend learned about his existence. Jihoon is a carbon copy of his dad, Taehyung thought. His eyes disappear when he smiles. Now, they have a little baker running around the kitchen usually on weekends.

Aside from those changes, Taehyung now lives in a studio apartment just a five-minute walk away from the bakery. He moved in just weeks after you left. The said apartment is not that big, just enough for him to rest in after work. Jimin commented that he treats that place like a hotel since Taehyung didn’t really personalize it to make the ambiance like a home. The whole place was plain, not even considered minimalist. Just plain. The walls were untouched. It was off-white when Taehyung came and it remains the same now. He didn’t really bother to invest anything in the place.

The house you two bought and lived in is still being taken care of. By him. Taehyung cleans up there once a week, just in case you reach out to visit home again and maybe talk about what to do with it. And when he feels like it, which is almost rare, he sleeps on the couch in the living room. He never really entered the guest room, which became your bedroom after the accident, except the time he got home after Jisoo and Namjoon’s wedding. That room was spotless, just like how you left it. The only things you left that night were on your vanity table; your house keys, the vintage pearl ring he bought you back in the flea market, and a folded paper.

The letter says, “Feel at home, this house is yours too. Paint the walls with the colors you like, buy new furniture, and fill the frames with new memories. Just please don’t sell it. I’ll try to reach out as soon as I can. For now, live the last years you missed.”

He never painted the walls with another color as he found the shade of blue that spreads around the house perfect. He never bought any furniture and still kept the same ones you had. He thought it fit the theme of the house and his preference. And yes, the picture frames show the same photos they originally had. It felt home that way for him. But he chose to move to the apartment because he always felt like he was missing something. The house is cozy and comfortable. But whenever he tries to lie on supposedly his bed, it feels empty. Once, he tried playing jazz music around the house, but it just got lonelier so he turned it off and just continued cleaning.

But he did try to keep up and look back at the things he forgot through his friends and the things he found at the house. Jimin, Namjoon, and sometimes Jisoo were patient with his questions. Jisoo, your best friend, was understandably distant from him at first after you went away. But she adds details to the stories Namjoon tells and later, became amiable with him. Jimin’s mom still looks after him and brings him food when she visits the city. There were a few times she mentioned Taehyung’s mother but he didn’t really care about her. So he ignores it.

“You know, you’re a handsome man. Don’t you have any lady?���

One of their common customer, a man in his seventies once asked him. It was not the first time someone asked him such a thing. He always shakes his head with a smile as an answer. It would lead later with an offer to meet someone they know. Taehyung would shyly and kindly decline these offers, saying he really doesn’t feel like dating for now. It’s true. The idea of him dating someone else felt wrong. It was like his own body rejected the idea as he felt uneasy with that thought.

“So, it’s that time of the year.”

Taehyung was pulling his third pan of cheesecake out of the hot oven with his oven gloves when he heard Ava, their longtime part-time staff, say that. She sounded amused but not surprised. He looked up and saw her leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed. She had a smug smile on her face. 

“I swear, you should just declare this particular day as Cheesecake and Banana Bread Day just to make it official,” she added, teasing.

Taehyung looked at her, unimpressed, “It’s selling. In fact, my cheesecakes are one of our best sellers here… What are you doing here anyway? Go back to the front.”

He scolds her, she just rolled her eyes, unbothered.  Ava was one of the students who knew Taehyung even before his accident. She went from being a loyal customer to a reliable staff of the shop. She has been enjoying the pastries in the shop ever since she was twelve and now, sixteen, she also enjoys getting into small banters with her older bosses. She is usually candid, and not shy to share her thoughts. Taehyung sees her as a little sister most time.

Given that she began working here after you left, Ava doesn’t really have an idea why Taehyung bakes a few batches of cheesecake and banana loaves on this specific date. She doesn’t know you and that you are celebrating your birthday today. Taehyung learned about that fact after his phone notified him weeks after you went. Since then, he has baked your favorites on your special day. 

It’s the third time now. It’s probably a slim chance but he hoped to see you around the bakeshop, enjoying pastries. But so far, he hasn’t seen you around. In fact, he hadn’t even heard from you ever since that night. He thought he saw you a year ago in the subway when he came to Incheon to go sightseeing, but he lost you before he could take a second glance. He didn’t know where you moved since he respects your space but he wondered if you really moved that far. He wonders about you every now and then. 

Jisoo posted a short clip in her Instagram Stories months ago. It’s just a clip of a long trail and he swore he heard you in the background noise of that clip, telling your best friend how tired you are from hiking. Then, the clip ended.

“Not because it’s best selling you would make a ton of it. It’s something about demand and supply– I don’t know,” she conceded, breaking Taehyung’s train of thought. “Anyway, I’m here because someone called on the phone, asking for you.”

Taehyung’s heart stopped for a second. His hopes almost blasted out of his soul but he tried to stay calm before asking Ava, “Who is it?”

“I don’t know. But it’s a woman. They said they want to specifically talk to you.” she replied, unaware that the man in front of him was holding his breath. She continued, “They are actually waiting on call right now.”

Taehyung almost sprinted to the front desk of the shop. Still in his mint green oven gloves, he reached for the telephone. His heart is beating fast while his gut is twisting tight. He paused when he realized he had nothing to say. He doesn’t know what to say if it’s you. Are you going to talk about the house? Should he greet you with Happy Birthday first and offer you your favorite cheesecake? Maybe you won’t like– Stop.

Taehyung took a deep breath before exhaling. He spoke, “Hello, this is Kim Taehyung, co-owner of The Sweet Spot. How can I help you?”

“Oh, hi.” 

His heart dropped. Okay, relax. He told himself. It’s not you.

There were nights when Taehyung would find himself awake. And tonight is one of those nights. He just lay on his bed, staring at the blank ceiling. He always had trouble falling asleep, maybe a side effect of his accident. He doesn’t know anymore. But he knows that it makes his head go crazy with random thoughts when times like this happen. And now, he thought of something.

That’s when he picked up his phone and keys, along with his coat. He drove away from his apartment. 

The bell above the door rang when he entered the convenience store to pick up a few beers and chips. His cold hands stayed in his coat’s pockets as he looked around the store, waiting for the clerk to scan his stuff. Just when the worker was about to say the prince, the bell clung again.

“No, wait. I’m just really hungry. Wait for me… Yes, I have money here.”

Everything went quiet and suddenly all that he could hear was that voice. Your voice. He’s sure of that. He looked back and saw a woman’s back going into one of the aisles. His heart raced once again. You’re here?

“Dude, you okay?” the tired clerk asked, looking at him with heavy bags under his eyes.

Taehyung looked at him, and broke out of his headspace, “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.”

He pulled out his cash and paid. He can still hear your voice like you were talking with someone on your phone.

“Do you want anything– Oh, the honey-butter chips I want ran out of stock.”

Taehyung looked at the chips in his hand. He looked at the clerk who also looked at him like they understood each other without saying anything. Taehyung placed the chip back on the counter.

“Just give this to the girl,” he whispered before turning his back.

He didn’t look back. A cool blow of wind brushed on his face when he walked out the door. For a second, he inhaled and exhaled again to calm his nerves. He got in his car, putting the pack of beer on the other seat. As he started the car, his eyes landed on the side mirror. 

Yes, it’s you. Definitely.

You just walked out of the same store, still on your phone, as you walked away grinning with your honey butter chips. You walked on the other end of the pathwalk. Taehyung pursed his lips and drove away.

His lips remained sealed but his head was exploding with questions. That was the closest he had seen you since the night you said goodbye. How are you? Why are you in the city? Did you live around here? It can’t be. Jisoo told him you left the hospital you used to work at. 

Instead of driving back to his apartment, Taehyung ended up parking in front of your deserted house. He had his beer with him as he turned the key on the doorknob. He stepped into the said home feeling colder even though he still hadn’t removed his coat.  He placed the drink on the center table in the living room and plugged in the TV for background noise. He put on a random show, which happens to be FRIENDS. 

Opening a can, he sat on the couch, pulling a couple of books he left under the same table. Photo albums and scrapbooks. You never told him such things exist in here, he just found them after cleaning around the house. It was personalized by you and him. He could tell by the design and handwritten captions. 

Almost everything was documented through photos and other knick knacks like receipts from a movie you two saw together. Browsing through the pages of it, it felt like looking at other people’s relationships even though he was in the photos himself. In one of the photos, he saw himself with a camera. He didn’t even know he had one. He tried searching around the house for it but he never found it. 

You had more solo portraits in the said books than him. He figured out why. Maybe he really loved capturing you as his subject. You looked the same in every picture: happy and in love. Most of your pictures were candid, taken without you knowing. Then, a handwritten date by him will be seen below it. Each photo was adorable. Some are just random ones. You were brushing your teeth or showing off your colorful scrubs (which was written in the caption: BOUGHT HER YELLOW DUCKIES SCRUBS I THINK SHE LIKES IT).

Taehyung spend his sleepless nights like this, looking back at what he missed. He read through articles before that the possibility of getting his memories back is a hit or miss. So he learned to just go on and maybe accept how things became. He tries to move forward at the same time he tries to look back. It’s quite confusing sometimes.

IT’S HER… I’M SURE 

That was the caption in one photo of you dating just weeks after you two moved into this house. In the picture, your back was turned as you sat in front of your vanity table. You can be seen fixing your hair while looking at your reflection. Taehyung’s eyebrow raised with the caption. He wondered what it meant. He turned the page to the next one but was greeted with nothing but a blank page. Turns out, that was the most recent one.

“The main branch of their restaurant is somewhere in Incheon. I’ll send you the address after the call.” 

Taehyung listened to Jimin through a loudspeaker call. His hair is still damp from a shower. Standing in front of the mirror, he compares two coats that would suit the rest of his outfit. He felt the need to look presentable tonight.

“You will meet the owner herself, Ashley. She said you can just introduce yourself to the host and he’ll lead you to your table… Ava kept the samples in the shop. She said she put them in different Tupperware so you can spot it right away.” Jimin instructed.

“Okay, okay.”

He heard his best friend sigh on the other line, “I’m sorry for the short notice, Tae. I totally forgot Jihoon will be staying with me tonight.”

Tonight, Taehyung will be meeting a special client. It’s the one who called a couple of weeks ago, during your birthday. it‘s a big restaurant that is planning to put the bakeshop’s products on their menu for dessert. Specifically, the cakes. The head chef was the one who brought up their product to the owner, whom he will meet now. Jimin initially agreed to meet the said client but his co-parenting schedule had some shifts. Just an hour ago, Taehyung learned he’d be the one meeting the client. It’s not like he had plans anyway. So, he immediately prepared himself.

After picking the clothes, Taehyung blow-dried and brushed his hair. His best friend sent the main address minutes later and so he left his apartment. He first drove by the shop, which closed a little earlier today. A lot of cakes were made for sample. It includes Jimin’s Carrot Cake, his own cheesecake, and six other more. Taehyung left with a brown bag of the samples.

His fingers tapped with the beat of the song playing on the radio as he drove his way to the restaurant. It was a peaceful night on the road. 

This will be the first time Taehyung will be going back to Incheon since that time he went sightseeing. He stayed there for just three days before, it was days after his phone notified him about your supposedly fifth anniversary. His emotions were all over the place because of the aftermath and the demanding work in the bakeshop around that time. So he asked Jimin for a very short break. He still hasn’t got a car then so he took the subway throughout the whole time. It was during his last day there when he saw a glimpse of you in the crowded subways of that city. He remembered you were in your scrubs, your hair was cleanly kept in a low bun, and you were walking opposite of his direction. Then, he blinked. You were gone in the crowded place.

“Good evening, sir.”

Almost forty minutes later, Taehyung arrived at the restaurant, Starry Night. He was greeted by the host as he entered the elegant place. It has a great ambiance, romantic. It is a fine-dining restaurant and seems like a perfect spot for dinner dates. 

He said his name when he was asked.  And while the man looked down at his guest list, Taehyung’s eyes traveled around the place. And not even a minute in, his eyes stopped at someone who he felt had been staring at him.

His eyes widened at the sight. A stunning woman, clad in a black dress, stares back at him with surprise. His mouth ran dry, he had to gulp. Now, he’s sure. He’s sure.

It’s you.

taglist rules

RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [🔧🔨 ]

@iamkookiesforyou @aianloveseven @hoodalmighty @taebangtanbabe @kthsmoon @nooojaaam @hiimnothing @hiqhkey @annenakamura @taebangtanbabe @shin-ie @prlan @zzztaegizz @starlight-night0 @teddybeartaetae @http-fayeradise​ @kiwuki @tannies-luv @fuckthinking @betysotelo18 @honsoolgloss @aurorathi @paulaaa97 @satisfied18

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @ficluvr613 @misshale21

[foundfamilyhq]

Welcome + Rules

Welcome to the Tumblr Found Family HQ! Here, we present your blorbos to the masses to have them vote upon whether they should be added to the collective tumblr found family or not. Submit your blorbos here:

See which blorbos have already joined the found family HERE! To avoid seeing the results posts, mute "ff results" The rules are: 1. Play nice; be respectful to others 2. Blorbos can be of any age, since a found family can be just that. So feel free to submit a one-day old infant or a ten thousand year old tree, if those are your blorbos 3. No Harry Potter (or other titles associated to this series or the author) 4. No real people (might make an exception if it's funny) 5. "No real people" includes no individual tumblr users, youtubers or streamers (this might seem obvious, but there were still a lot of them submitted) 6. No OCs. All your OCs are great and I'd feel sad if they got rejected from the found family F.A.Q. under readmore:

(No one has actually asked any questions, but these are the ones I'm anticipating) Some of these questions have been asked now lol Q. How does this work? A. A post featuring a blorbo shall be made, stating who they are and their source material. A poll will be attached set to one week, asking if the blorbo shoulf join the tumblr found family. At the end of the week, based on the result, I will announce if they blorbo has joined or not Q. What is a found family? A. A found family is a family you find for yourself. It is a term often used in fandom to describe a group of characters who aren't related by blood (although a few members might be) but have come to think of each other as a family through circumstance. Alternatively, they might not be officially recognised as a found family in canon, but wider fanon regards them as such Q. Is this a tournament bracket? A. Nope, blorbos aren't competing against each other, they're only here to be judged by you. We are here enternally submitting blorbos (at least until I run out of steam or pass away lol) Q. I'm not sure if my blorbo counts because of ___ reason? A. If it's not any of the reasons mentioned in the rules, then feel free to send an ask. Or just submit them anyway and I'll decide Q. I submitted a blorbo and they haven't been posted. Did you get them? A. Again, feel free to send an ask. I don't have a regular schedule for posting these. Somedays there'll be batches of polls, others there'll be one or none Q. My blorbos are a duo/trio/etc., who cannot be separated. Can I submit them as a group? A. While I would prefer to stick to individual characters, if you have some who absolutely cannot be separated, I might make exceptions. Most likely, I'll make a poll asking if they should be judged as a group or individually, since there's a lot of media I won't be familiar with Q. My blorbo got ditched on the roadside! Fuck you! A. Friend, as a fan of Theseus from Hades Game, I understand what it's like to have your fave hated by fandom. Anything decided on this blog can never affect your personal headcanons, so go in peace with your middle finger held high Q. What are your icon and header? A. The icon is of the Pokemon Bouffalant and Natu, based on a series of trading card art where Bouffalant finds two Natu and rescues them - the true spirit of found family. The header is a group of characters called the Black Ravens from the Professor Layton series - a group of ragtag working-class kids who make a black market together Q. I wrote some propaganda on the submission form, can you post it or send it back to me? A. Submissions are deleted as the polls are posted, so I can keep track of how many I have left to post, which means I can't do this. Please save your propaganda for the post and not the submissions form Q. Did you know you used fan art on ___ poll? A. Unless I'd mentioned getting permission from the artist, then please assume that I did not know and let me know. I hate art theft and wouldn't want to partake in that, but I'm just not familiar with a good 80% of the series submitted, so sometimes it might slip through the cracks Q. Can I submit a character who isn't my blorbo? A. Also fine! I enjoy it when people submit controversial characters to see how they'll do Q. What happens if there's a tie? A. The blorbo in question becomes an occassional family member who appears with our found family for some important cutscenes, but isn't officially considered part of the found family

Q. No, but seriously, my blorbo got ditched. Do they get another chance? A. At the beginning of each year we host a Redemption Event, where any past blorbos who were submitted get another chance. Because of the high volume of ditched characters, to be included in the event, your character will need to be submitted with propaganda via a form that will be released about a month before the event Q. I think the image used is a big reason why my blorbo got ditched. Why did you use that image? A. If an image hasn't been submitted, I will just grab one from an image search result in most cases. You know your blorbos best, so if you have a specific (non-fan art) image that you think shows them in their best light, please do submit it when you submit them Q. Did you mean the book version or movie version of that character? A. Whichever version of the blorbo that gets submitted, that'll be the one I use. If no specific version is mentioned, I'll just post that blorbo in general and use whatever image is most common when I look them up, unless an image has been submitted or a book cover has been requested to be used Q. My blorbo is a character played by a youtuber and/or streamer, not the youtuber or streamer themselves, is that okay? A. If it's a character, then it's fine. But please mention this on the submission. Because if I look them up and the result looks to be just some real person, that won't be included. I am largely unfamiliar with these kind of fandoms and will always err on the side of caution about their inclusion Q. What counts as a "sweep"? A. Any character who gets 90% or higher in either joining or not joining is counted as a sweep. This doesn't give them anything extra, it's just for bragging rights Q. What counts as a "close call"? A. Any character who's poll results are within the 49%-51% range for join/don't join is counted as a close call Q. How many characters can I submit at a time? A. There's no hard rule, since the form doesn't track emails, but please be considerate to others and try not to submit more than 10 characters per submission period. See next question for more details Q. How many characters from the same series can I submit at a time? A. Four (4) characters per series per submission period. I'll be lenient for if they've been submitted by multiple people, but from my experience running this blog, it's only the current Hot New Thing that'll be submitted by multiple people and anything else is usually one person submitting one character after another. I used to allow more, but people took this for granted and submitted 50+ from the same series, so now 4 is the cap Q. You missed a tag from that poll! Can it be added? A. Sure! Tags are either provided by the submitter or where left blank, I'll use my best guess. At minimum, you'll get the name of the character and series as they've been submitted. If you know more, let me know and I'll add them to the post during the voting period. Please note: The polls themselves cannot be edited after being posted, only the tags Q. Can fictional characters based on real people be submitted? A. Fictional characters that are inspired by real people (e.g. Steven Universe being inspired by Rebecca Sugar's brother) are generally fine. But characters that are basically just some real celebrity making a cameo somewhere (e.g. Simon Cowell appearing on the Simpsons), are a no. Q. I don't understand what this blog is A. Don't worry about it, friend. Just keep driving and whatever you do, don't wind down the window. We'll be safe soon :) Q. Didn't think blog used to be called the Found Family Adoption Agency? A. It was, but I were made aware that the language used on the blog could be seen as potentially harmful to real life adoptees, so I changed the name of the blog and made some edits to try to avoid using such language. Posts made prior to 5th May 2024 will still contain references to adopt/ditching, so tread with caution on older posts

[percheduphere]

Okay. First post trying to use gifs properly. I've switched out improper gifs for these type for my last 3-4 posts. Gonna work on some more corrections tomorrow when I have time. Please let me know if I'm misstepping anywhere. Thanks for your patience! That said...

LET'S TALK ABOUT SYLVIE💕, INTERSECTIONAL FEMINISM (SYLVIE & LOKI)✊🏽, AND QUEER REPRESENTATION (LOKIUS)🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️!

SYLVIE

I'm rooting for Lokius, AND I also love how much Sylvie has forged a life for herself in S2. A lot of her development is implied, so I think it's worth looking at her growth outside the context of Loki himself: She found a job, locals know her by name, she has friends and acquaintances, she has hobbies!

People call her by name in her timeline on 4 occasions:

1. When the McDonald's shift manager (John) checks in on her after work. See the kid with the tie in the image below. I couldn't find any gifs of him visiting Sylvie at her truck. She asked him if his mom was gonna pick him up to make sure he was gonna be okay late at night. 🥹

2. When a customer picks up their McDonald's order and thanks her (cheerfully). Also note how many employee stars she had on her badge! Queen.

3. Lyle at the record store. They seem like really good friends, and I got the "beginnings of an attraction" vibe between the two of them. Unfortunately, the gifs below are the only ones I could find of him and I'm still searching for the source. His interaction with Sylvie before spaghetti-trauma was so sincere. He could tell she was down and offered her Velvet Underground. Come on, that's a solid move.

4. Eric at the bar, who comments 2 shots of bourbon is a good choice. Let me tell you, finding a gif of Eric was like finding a needle in a haystack, but here he is leaning close to Sylvie. Thank you, @zehiiro!

I tried to find more gifs of all the people Sylvie has in her life but couldn't find any, which is a darn shame because there are so many subtle cues she's built a support system on her own and she's thriving.

She's a regular at many places in her timeline, and when people greet her, they do so with a smile. She loves music, a hard drink, and punk fashion.

When she engages with Loki, she may come across as cold, but I honestly think she's being firm with her boundaries and true to her beliefs. The TVA threatened her life for centuries. I don't doubt setting foot in the building is traumatic for her, which may explain why she was more harsh than usually in S2E4. Her psychological defenses were all on overdrive. Yet when Sylvie's in her own timeline, far away from the TVA, she can be her real self. Turns out, her real self is pretty well-liked! (I'll talk about how this is mirrored in Loki soon).

INTERSECTIONAL FEMINISM

Sylvie's an unapologetically "selfish" woman who knows what she wants, wants it on her own, is doing it on her own, and isn't afraid to put her foot down when it comes to her personal boundaries. We should be applauding all of that!

This is exactly the kind of female representation we need, but the show did Sylvie a disservice in S1 by coming at her character as a love interest first (look at all the media promos classifying her as such) instead of more thoughtfully showing how badly she has been affected by the TVA and planting what her desires are throughout. If they had done this with more intention and finesse, her position in S2 wouldn't come off as completely irresponsible.

As a result of this apparent marketing and pre-production development decision, her perception as a character (by both lokius and sylki shippers) is muddled by the question of her relationship status with Loki. This truly isn't fair, most especially to Sophia Di Martino.

Of course, Sylvie isn't perfect. No well-written character should be. I just think she's cooler than she gets credit for precisely because her character arc doesn't require the fulfillment of a romance. She will be fine whether or not she ends up with Loki. It's very feminist!

Loki, in turn, found safety, belonging, and love at the TVA. All the things that are the complete opposite of Sylvie's lived experience. I often see fans complaining about how Loki is ooc in his own series.

The thing is, and Loki admits this himself: it's all part of an illusion.

This illusion started far before the first Thor movie. He comes from a hyper-masculine (dare I say toxic-masculine) warrior society. His true nature doesn't conform with this, so he has to overcompensate with some (genuinely awesome) bad assery.

BUT he doesn't like it.

As a comparison to a far lesser but more relatable degree: imagine putting on a customer service persona 24/7. UGH. It's just not sustainable without becoming increasingly angry and bitter, which is what Sacred Timeline Loki becomes. Mobius gets ahead of this.

In the series, Loki can finally TURN OFF that persona, and TURN IT ON again when it's needed (and fun!).

He also now has the freedom to be silly, expressive, and magical (unapologetically queer!) without anyone making fun of him for it.

The end result is a much calmer, happier, likable person (like Sylvie in her timeline, his defenses are no longer on overdrive!). Who shows him this is possible?

Here's the receipt:

QUEER REPRESENTATION

Sociopoliticaly, Loki and Mobius come from a different angle. A lot of men (cis, fluid, trans, or otherwise) struggle with the social expectation of burying feelings and never ever showing vulnerability, especially to another men. Now, some might argue that shipping men together perpetuates this construct. There's some truth to this, but only through the lens that it is shameful to be gay. In order to get to a point in society where there's no shame in being mistaken as gay (or queer, generally) when being affectionate with another man, there must be continuous positive representation of homosexual relationships in which the characters are not stereotypes. Loki and Mobius are exactly this, especially Mobius.

Whereas Loki, on Asgard, represents the openly queer oppressed (i.e. magic and cunning, qualities historically tied to witches or "immoral women" instead of brute strength), Mobius can represent the closeted repressed.

In S1, Mobius was much more uptight, rule-abiding, and just shy of holier-than-thou. The power structure in which he existed perpetuated this, until Loki reveals to him it was all a lie (an illusion).

In S2, he becomes more flexible, more fun-loving, and more expressive in his affection. In S1, most of his support of Loki manifested as words of affirmation. In S2, his support extended to physical touch and bonding. Mobius, if seen through the lens of a closeted man allegory, finds the courage (and partner) to slowly come out.

[ghostlychief]

Hiii!! Just before I request- your Ghost fics are all so damn great :'))) youre suuuper good at writing!!

Could I please get a fem! Reader who isnt part of 141, but another taskforce, and happens to spot Ghost getting shot by a bullet from afar, so she decides to save the him by killing all the enemies (with gun, knife or martial arts, whatevs ya want, maybe all) and taking Ghost to her home and treats his wounds cause she is also a medic and Ghost just quietly falls in love with a stranger who just saved him?

Sorry if its not understandable, english isnt my first language :(

You can ignore it but have a good day ^^

omg thank you sm for reading my other ghost fics!!! <3333 first of all, your english is GREAT. there is no need to apologize sweetie. i threw together this fic for you, hope you enjoy <3

--

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k+

warnings: none, just mentions of bullet injuries, but nothing graphic; fluff

--

You’ve only met the guy once, and yet, you’re standing over him while he lays shirtless on your couch.

Of course, you weren’t planning on having anyone over tonight, no. You thought you would get home from your mission, albeit a bit bruised and sore. You were going to take a nice hot bath and let the steam melt away your worries. You had your self-care night all planned out. That was, until this morning when your team aka Task Force Cobra, got informed that you were paired up with Task force 141. It was to be a matrix job, something you weren’t overly used to.

Nonetheless, each group gathered in the conference room to debrief. This was your first time meeting the aforementioned 141 squad. They weren’t as intimidating as you thought, although maybe it was because you were also a skilled marksman. Nevertheless, you introduced yourselves and got the formalities out of the way before you got into the nitty gritty of today’s mission.

However, one of the 141 members caught your eye. Goes by the name Ghost. He was one of the taller ones, and you could only see his eyes. Everything else was left to the imagination.  

You quickly rid your thoughts of the man, needing to focus on what you were assigned to do. You drew your attention back to Price and Diablo, who was your supervisor for Cobra.

“Cobra’s task is to run recon. We’ll go in first unsuspected and gather as much intel as needed. Then, 141 will come in.”

You mentally groan. You personally didn’t like recon because it usually didn’t result in a lot of action, and action is what you were trained for. You had a black belt in martial arts after all, and you were pretty adept with a knife.

Though, you kept your dissatisfaction to yourself and listened to the rest of the briefing.

--

Nothing exciting happened during recon. In order to gather intel, Cobra tried to look like normal civilians in the market area; all your weapons were concealed. You spotted a few of the hitmen you were after, and radioed 141. The hitmen you were after are part of a drug trafficking group called the Ludin cartel. You really were after the king pins, but you had to start somewhere.

Once you sent the signal, 141 started infiltrating the area and the civilians quickly scattered when they saw men with heavy weaponry storming through the market.

By now, you were in the outskirts of the market, but you could still see the commotion happening within. You may have just seen Ghost get shot. Wait what?

You did a double take and sure enough, Ghost has a red stain on his pant leg. Fuck.

You know you need to get to him as soon as he can so he won’t bleed out, but there’s still Ludin men surrounding him.

Well, fuck me.

You took a breath then started to make your way over to Ghost. Your movements were swift and sharp as you cut through Ludin’s men, every once in awhile your knife made contact with someone’s skin, leaving a big gash wherever the blade reached.  

Once the hitmen were taken care of, you were left with the sight of Ghost passed out on the ground. You radioed Cobra and 141, “Ghost’s down. I repeat, Ghost’s down.”

You heard a chopper in the distance.

--

The last thing Ghost remembers is faintly seeing someone take down nearly every Ludin man that was surrounding him; he doesn’t remember much after that. Now, he’s awake but his surrounding is unfamiliar to him.

He also feels a chill, and that’s when he looks down and notices his shirt is off, but there’s also a thick white bandage covering the loser half of his torso.

What the fuck happened?

“Oh good, you’re awake.” A sweet voice cuts through the air, and he looks up to find a woman standing over him. Your face is soft, your features show compassion, tenderness, and he doesn’t feel on guard like he usually does when he wakes up in an unfamiliar place.

Maybe it’s the daze of waking up with two bullet holes in your body, maybe it’s because of you. Whichever, he can’t find himself to tear his eyes away from your sweet face. It’s been so long that you even say, “Are you alright? Can you hear me okay?”

He mentally shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry. Just wasn’t sure where I was for a moment. You’re y/n right, from Cobra?”

You give him a slight nod with a smile that tugs at the corner of your lips. He finds himself looking there, at the plush color that coats them, but quickly averts his gaze so he doesn’t seem like a creep.

“Yeah, you got banged up pretty bad. Two bullets. One in your thigh, the other grazed your abdomen.”

Jesus.

“Why am I here in this house?” His tone is only curious, wondering why he isn’t in the med house back at base.

“This is one of my safe houses, and it just so happened to be the closest to the raid. Both teams agreed for me to take you back here. Along with being a skilled martial artist, I also happen to be a medic.”

Your sweet smile turns into a smirk while confidence coats your face, and Ghost finds this extremely attractive.

He once again can’t tear his eyes from you.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You keep staring.”

Fuck me.

He stutters out the first bit of his response, “I’m fine, sorry. Just have a headache, but also it doesn’t help that I’m laying here shirtless with a beautiful, yet terrifying martial artist turned medic.”

You let out a laugh that makes his heart glow. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’ve literally only met this woman once.

“No worries, Lieutenant. Patients are usually a little discombobulated after being injured.”

You smile at him again, “This is a judgment free zone.”

Ghost nods, feeling a little bit better. A hint of smirk forms on his lips, “If this is a ‘judgement free zone’, would you mind if I ask you a question?”

You nod, willing him to proceed.

He’s taking a risk, he knows. But he has to ask. He’s already so enamored by you.

“Well, since you’ve been so kind as to take me to your home, and tend to my wounds, what do you say about me taking you out for a drink? As a thank you, of course.”

He watches as your face shifts from intrigue to understanding. Your sweet laughs permeates the air once again.

“I usually don’t accept offers like this, but for you I will.”

Ghost lets out a breathy laugh.

“Great, it’s a date then.”

--

hope you enjoyed!

masterlist

[draculasfavoritewife]

Hunted

Summary: Tatooine is a planet filled with old ghosts, and when one of yours rears its ugly head again, your Mandalorian takes matters into his own capable hands.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and minor OC death at the end. Allusions to hunter/prey roleplay and bondage, my voice kink makes a couple of cameo appearances. I the writer was particularly thirsty for Din Djarin the day I wrote this and thus take full responsibility for the results.

This is really one of the most blatantly self-indulgent things I've written, born of many long daydreaming sessions and my love for any episode where my man rubs elbows with the delightful and despicable denizens of the OG desert planet. I truly can't explain it, Tatooine Din™️ just hits me different, so please enjoy this very long fic about it.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

You step into the crowded main street of the city, taking a moment to let all of your senses adjust to the stark difference. The last week or so has been spent on the ship in a cold vacuum, the gleaming blur of hyperspace and the steady thrum of engines a constant gentle halo in the background. It was nice, if a little quiet for your personal taste. Your partner certainly doesn’t talk much, and you tend to spend much of your time alone with him less conversationally inclined as a result.

He’s rubbed off on you that way. 

Now the twin suns of Tatooine scorch down on you from above, making eyes that have become accustomed to soft darkness sting. A throng of street vendors, lowlifes, and ne’er-do-wells streams through the ragtag market on all sides, moving bodies chattering nonstop in floods of Basic, Huttese, Aqualish, Droid, and snatches of more exotic tongues. 

A moment, and you feel yourself suddenly at ease again, as your brain resets back to your old lifestyle in the Core Worlds. It feels like putting on a well-loved shaak-leather coat that remembers all your contours just right. 

“You look happy,” the Mandalorian observes from beside you. 

You always wonder about him, how he's actually faring under that helmet, so shiny in this harsh light that you come away with spots in your vision after glancing at him too long. Din walks with the easy confidence of a man that’s walked these alleys many times before, but you know him more personally than most. He’s a quiet man under that shell, one who vastly prefers his solitude and finds the company of most beings in the galaxy a soul-stealing chore after two minutes. 

And unlike you, he never relaxes. 

“I am.” You side-eye him, briefly admiring his prowling stride as he diligently scans the moving figures surrounding the pair of you. “Sometimes I really like big crowds.” 

“You’re crazy,” he remarks. “This many people add too many variables.” 

“Your comment stands.” You draw closer to him in order to reach into the satchel slung across his body and ruffle the Kid’s long ears. “But to me, it’s almost easier. I can usually read people’s intentions pretty well. Bodies speak louder in crowds.” 

“I suppose.” He hasn’t stopped his surveillance yet. You can guess at how his eyes are darting here and there beneath the visor. He probably has at least two escape routes planned out already, if not more. 

You want nothing more than to tell him to relax and enjoy himself — you’re not even here on hunter business, simply to refuel and stock up on supplies before your next run — but you know that’s a useless endeavor. 

“I found that strangely hot, by the way,” you say instead, since it HAS been taking up space in your mind for some time. 

“What?” 

“Finding out you speak Tusken. That’s VERY attractive.” 

It was. When he had to negotiate with the scouts on your way into town, you couldn’t deny the fluttering in your stomach at hearing his low, smoky voice bark out the harsh sounds as he supplemented his meaning with crisp sign language. 

And besides the sound of it, you certainly find it very hot for a man of his stature to be so willing and ready to communicate and settle fraught situations peacefully. 

“I — what — I don’t — ?” 

It still makes you grin, how easily flustered he is when you catch him off-guard with flirting. 

“Don’t you think so, Grogu?” You poke the Kid’s tiny nose. “Isn’t it attractive when your buir talks like that?” 

The little one squeals enthusiastically in response, probably more to your teasing than the actual question. 

“Stop that, don’t encourage her.” Din casts a disapproving look first at the Kid and then at you; it strikes you as funny how well you can translate such a simple tilt of the helmet. “And don’t you ask him that, he’s just a kid.” 

“I think you’re blushing under that bucket,” you smirk, sidling away. 

“I’m not.” 

You subside with the teasing for the time being, and the Mandalorian releases a sigh of relief as you start wandering, letting handmade jewelry and stoneware snatch your attention away from him. He’s getting better at keeping up with your rapid changes of interest, but somehow your more romantic moods still manage to get the better of him when you’re out in public. 

He blames the environment. When it’s just the two of you alone, he can see what’s coming in the slant of your lips or the way you suddenly decide to plant yourself right in front of whatever he’s working on. And he’s almost as likely to initiate now, so long as the Kid’s not in the same room. But out here, as his field of vision constantly shifts in the sea of bodies, and his right hand drifts between Grogu in his satchel and the pistol at his hip, he just doesn’t possess the bandwidth to also process what the kriff could possibly turn you on so much about his language skills. 

He tucks that particular piece of information away in a metaphorical corner, to dissect and possibly use at a later time. 

You return to him after your little side trip, flirtation seemingly forgotten for now. “I saw a ring at that one booth —” you gesture over your shoulder “— that I’m almost positive is dolovite. So pretty. I’m not even sure the vendor knows what he’s got. It’s tempting.” 

“I bet.” He notes the tone of your voice, the way you glance back one more time as the pair of you move on. 

“But we are here for the essentials, first and foremost. Maybe if it’s still there by the end of the day.” 

He nods thoughtfully, and listens as you ramble through the list of what the three of you need, both in terms of provisions and to keep the ship flying. 

The sooner you’re all able to leave this crowd and noise behind, the better. 

He doesn’t care for the feeling that his little clan’s safety isn’t completely under his control. 

Hours later, stewardship of the satchel carrying the Kid has passed over to you. Din carries the day’s purchases, slung from either end of the pole balanced across his wide shoulders. He watches affectionately from behind his immobile visage of beskar at the sight of you spiritedly haggling with a Twi’lek vendor over the price of fruit. The arm not being used to illustrate your point cradles Grogu, half-asleep, close to your torso, and it touches something deep inside him, to see you care for his foundling so naturally. 

The image almost — almost — lulls him into something resembling a dangerous sense of peace.

Almost, but not quite. 

Which is why, when the blaster bolt narrowly misses your shoulder and instead blows a crate of produce into a violently sticky explosion, he’s only a half-second slower than he normally would be as he pivots sharply and yanks out his own weapon. His shot drops the sniper leaning out of a second-story window across the street, a Rodian crumpling to the ground in a tangle of ragged cloak. 

His armor-clad body is positioned in front of you in another second, keeping you and the Kid sandwiched between the booth and his beskar as he rapidly searches for any more guns to rear their ugly muzzles. 

The market has dissolved into chaos around you, but no more fire is heard. 

You slip your DL-44 out of your back holster with one hand and push the satchel carrying Grogu further out of the way with the other. The road had cleared in seconds, the trembling fruit vendor ducking down behind his wares. The atmosphere is suddenly quiet, too many people holding their breaths all at once. 

“See anything?” you whisper to Din. 

“Negative,” he mutters back. “He was acting alone, or else the others have retreated. Looking for heat signatures is useless, they’re everywhere here.” 

A grim suspicion starts to rise in your chest, but you keep your voice removed as you step from behind him and give him a sharp nod. “Cover me? I need to take a look at our shooter.” 

He stalks behind you as you cross, your trigger finger settling into its well-worn spot in readiness. Grogu is silent; only the tips of his giant ears poke up from the top of the bag. 

For a kid, he’s been in enough firefights to know the drill by now. 

Arriving beside the smoking form of the Rodian, you flip him over and push aside the cloak, your hand drawing back when you see exactly what you were afraid you would find. 

The sigil of a sand ape emblazoned on his jacket in red. 

“Talk to me,” Din urges, voice tight. “Do you know why he was targeting you?” 

You straighten up and bite your lip for a second, struggling over the best way to break the news to him. You’d thought it was long enough ago that old scores would be forgotten, but on Tatooine, grudges rarely die, instead simmering deep beneath the filth like a krayt dragon awaiting its next meal. 

And now you’ve unwittingly brought your riduur and his ad’ika into danger. 

“I lived in Mos Eisley for a bit at one point.” You sigh. “And I left under…difficult circumstances. I’m a bit of a loose end as far as a local gang is concerned, Din. They paid well for some mercenary jobs — it was a nice temporary setup. Last hit I was hired for turned out to have a Guild bounty on him though, and they paid more to have him delivered alive. I saw a business opportunity and didn’t look back. But I made some powerful people here pretty angry.” 

“Dank farrik.” He curses under his breath. You can nearly hear his exasperated thoughts — can’t I have ONE uneventful outing? Just ONE? — but he shakes it off swiftly and is soon all business again, his next query clipped and brusque. “Does he have a tracking fob?” 

You shake your head. “They don’t want Guild here anymore, if you recall. No, it’ll be a more intimate affair, I’d bet my blades on that. This is about revenge and closure; if there’s a reward payout it’s from the boss man himself, and probably only advertised by word of mouth.” 

The Mandalorian refocuses his thoughts from where they ever so briefly derailed at your casual misuse of the term “intimate affair” and grunts his acknowledgment. “I gather the boss man wants you alive, then?” 

You laugh, a dry, ironic sound. “Oh, he will. I have a feeling he wants to watch me suffer a bit before he kills me. Or who knows?” With a shrug, you shove the body into an alleyway and return to where you both left your purchases, only the dance of your tense fingers across the grip of your blaster giving away your readiness to protect yourself. “Maybe he’ll make me his own personal slave instead. I knew all that club dancing I did would come in handy someday.” 

Din makes a hissing sound of annoyance at your flippant tongue as he follows. There’s something about the way you can talk so carelessly about such degrading fates that truly distresses him. He knows you don’t need his protection on the same level the Kid does, but the thought of either of those options actually befalling you under his watch makes his hands clench into fists, leather gloves protesting as they stretch across his knuckles. But he knows too, that dark humor is often your way of dealing with stress, so he endeavors to let it slide and not see red. 

“Do you know where he is?” he demands suddenly. 

“The boss man? I used to. And there are people I could ask.” You take the satchel with the Kid off and hand it back to him, opting to take the parcels instead. He can fight with a baby strapped to him better than you can, and knowing you’re the primary target this time, you’d rather keep him safer. “Why?” 

“Later.” His voice has gone tense again, he must have seen something you don’t. “Right now we have to get out of here. You’re too exposed.” 

Your gaze falls on a nearby speeder bike with no obvious owner nearby. “They’ve gotten lax without me around,” you smirk, straddling the bike and revving its powerful engine. “Leaving their valuables all helpless and unattended. It’s a real shame.” 

The Mandalorian is staring at you, the drop of his shoulders suggesting surprise at your brazenness. 

“Get on,” you encourage him, laying the carrying pole across the seat behind you. “You’re getting twitchy, so there must be trouble. What’s got your cape in a twist?” 

He takes a seat behind you and settles his pulse rifle across his knees. “There’s a couple more in similar jackets closing in,” he reveals in an undertone. “And I just haven’t seen you…steal a vehicle before, is all.” 

A shot pings over his helmet before you can properly react to that. 

“Drive!” he orders, pivoting to return fire. 

You oblige, gunning the motor and tearing off down the main thoroughfare. “There’s still a few things you haven’t seen me do, Cyare,” you toss back as he dusts one of the gang members on your way past. “You and the Kid made me go soft.” 

He huffs doubtfully and nods to a narrow opening between buildings up ahead. “Can you get us out of sight?” 

“If you hang on tight enough.” You execute a tight turn at the last moment and shoot down the alley, glad the bike is compact enough to follow the cramped tunnel between the crumbling dwellings. “It’s gonna be rough ’til we’re in the open, though.” 

Din doesn’t answer in words, but his free arm wraps around your waist and you can feel the Kid’s small body tucked between the two of you. 

And it’s almost an oddly pleasant feeling, outrunning any would-be pursuers with the two of them held so close. 

By the end of the hour, supplies have been loaded into the ship and Grogu has been left in the doting care of Peli, who as always is more than happy to entertain the little guy as long as you and Din keep trouble far away from her repair station. You and the Mandalorian are now camped out on a rooftop overlooking the marketplace, a tattered fabric canopy mercifully providing some scant relief from the sunlight if not the oppressive heat. As always, your riduur appears totally indifferent to such a thing as physical discomfort, leaning out from under the awning to scope the street below through the sight of his rifle. 

Does his armor have an internal cooling system? Or are Mandalorians really just that tough? 

“You know, we could just leave,” you finally suggest. “It’s not like this particular group ever goes off-world.” 

“We could.” 

You can tell there’s a reason why he won’t. 

“But I return to Tatooine semi-frequently. And I don’t want you to constantly be looking over your shoulder every time.” 

You sit back with a sigh, idly tuning up your blaster. His ways are still foreign to you sometimes. Before your partnership, you made a life depending on adaptability and quick thinking. Having only yourself to worry about, and knowing there was no one else out there worrying about you, made it easier to simply uproot and go elsewhere whenever the heat was on you. 

Din is nearly the opposite. If there’s a way he can make things more secure for those in his care, if there’s a good enough reason, he won’t ever back down from a struggle.

He already has his mind made up. 

It’s just a bit jarring to realize that you’re the good enough reason this time. 

“What are you thinking, then?” you prompt. 

He doesn’t break his focus on the area below as he answers. “I’m thinking I just killed a couple gang members and got some interesting information out of them. I’m ex-Guild and looking for work, and being a ruthless mercenary, I might just be willing to turn on a crew member if the price is right.” 

You can’t help your sudden intake of breath at his ingenious plan. “And once we get there?” 

He finally turns to face you, his next words cold and hard as tempered beskar. “Then we kill him.” 

And there’s something a little bit more menacing in there than simple pragmatism. He has taken on the role of cabur for you and the Kid; this isn’t just about keeping trouble off your backs in future. 

Someone has threatened you, and he will not rest until that threat has been put down.

That is his duty, and he will not shirk it. 

“I love you,” you murmur, barely above the hot breeze that rakes through your hair. 

He rises to his feet, shoulders his rifle. “And I you. Which is why we’re going to have to make this look convincing. You get a two-minute head start. Whenever you’re ready.” 

You swipe a dull sand-colored cloak from a stall as you pass, immediately diving into the heart of the throng, which seems to have recovered from the earlier incident. Mos Eisley is nothing if not desensitized to crime and violence, and for a moment, you almost lose yourself in awe at the apathy of the average citizen as you let the flow of movement carry you along. Nobody cares what happens around here, so long as it doesn’t happen to them. 

It’s…odd, to remember how it felt to think that way. 

Shaking yourself back into the moment, you weave between beings of all shapes and sizes, focusing on making yourself forgettable and not appearing in too much of a hurry. You know Din will find you no matter where you end up — he’s just too good at his job not to. So for the moment you let yourself enjoy this little game, a moment spent as the quarry of a very desirable predator. 

It would be a lie to say you haven’t fantasized about this before. 

A ripple passes through the crowd to your left and behind you, people shifting to make room, like river currents split by a large stone. Only one person you know could possibly cause such a stir.

Only idiots choose to stand in the way of a hunting Mandalorian. 

Which means he’s here. 

Your heart accelerates and you try to think of a way to stall him just a little longer. Reluctantly pulling a few credits from your belt pouch, you regretfully let them scatter in the dust, knowing the only thing that reliably beats fear is greed. The people nearest to you devolve into pushing and shoving in their eagerness to get their hands on them, a writhing wall springing up between you and your pursuer. 

With a grin, you slip backwards, drifting in the opposite direction of where you had been headed before, catching the barest glimpse of sun glaring off metal as you pass. 

That's a little longer. 

He’ll expect you to be thinking the way he thinks, not the way you do, so you stamp down the inclination to think that way and instead travel into a seedier part of town, seeking out more raucous company. Wandering through cantinas and gambling dens, you pick up a refreshing blue milk along the way and almost start to let the tension ebb from your muscles. But when you see him emerge from the street and gaze through the window of the same building you were just about to exit, your adrenaline shoots up again. A dash through a maze of alleys and one stolen ride on the back of a droid rickshaw later, and even you aren’t so sure what part of the city you’ve made it to. 

The twin suns are finally beginning to sink lower in the sky as you thoughtfully chew on a piece of bantha jerky and walk through a crowded residential section, no doubt where the lower classes live. It’s much quieter here, the low-income strata not having the credits to spend on frivolities at the market. 

It’s almost…too quiet. 

You hear him before you see him, an almost deceptively musical clink of the explosive charges on his belt against his vambrace as his arm brushes past. There’s nowhere to run anymore, so you pull back your hood with an admittedly dramatic flourish and discard your savory treat, hands sliding to the twin vibroblades sheathed at your thighs. 

“So, its finally come to this, Mando.” You pull your knives and take up a fighting stance. “No use in trying to sweet-talk you out of this, is there?” 

He doesn’t answer, just pulls his own blade and gestures with his chin as if saying “Try me”. 

So you do. 

The pair of you has sparred many times before, and this altercation is brief but outwardly brutal. Finesse is nice, but necessity calls for any potential advantage to be pressed and pressed hard. For the agility your much lighter choice of clothing grants you, you can’t dent him when fully armored, so finally you resort to simple but effective tactics and throw dust in his face. 

Even a visor with a heat sensor takes a second to recalibrate from that. 

You do, however, have a scripted ending for this outing, and as you sprint off, his grappling cable snakes around your hips and down your legs, dropping you in the sand. He strides up to you, tosses a pair of binders down next to you. 

“Cuff yourself,” he orders, breath coming in heavy pants after your scuffle. “I’m taking you in.” 

And since it’s him who just captured you, who would have captured you eventually no matter what because he’s just THAT good, you don’t mind. 

No, you reflect as he hefts you over his shoulder and walks away from the few scattered spectators your fight drew out, you really don’t mind this arrangement at all. 

Maybe you’ll have to tell him that, later. 

Your former employer’s headquarters are still where you remember them, and you almost smirk at the sense of uncomfortable familiarity when Din lowers you to the floor and unties your legs. Still cuffed — and a bit tired after spending the afternoon trying to outwit the best hunter in the parsec — it’s not difficult to look angry and beaten down, kneeling there in the dust. 

The boss man rises from his seat at the table, a hulking Devaronian with a chipped horn and a hungry grimace. He swaggers over, nods at the Mandalorian standing behind you. 

“I suppose I can turn a blind eye at the loss of a few good men for this. You have absolutely no idea how this one little troublesome scavenger has been occupying my thoughts.” 

Din remains silent, simply holding out a hand, a wordless demand for payment. 

Your old boss grins, nods to a couple of lackeys to bring over the credits, hauls you to your feet by the back of your shirt. 

The Mandalorian’s hand brushes past your leg as you move, and one of your knives is quietly returned to its sheath. 

“Since you turned tail and ran so quickly after disobeying me, I assume you have some idea of what I do to clever little turncoats, don’t you?” sneers the Devaronian, leaning altogether too close for your liking. 

Your cuffed hands lower in seeming fear as you shrink beneath his intimidating glare. 

“This is going to be fun,” he threatens, a hand drawing up your neck and along your jaw. “You need to learn some respect, and I’m going to —” 

The vibroblade sunk deep into his chest cuts his words off rather suddenly. 

There’s a lot you can still do, even in binders. 

The outraged lackeys are swiftly dropped by precise shots from Din, and the two of you are left gazing at each other in a now oddly quiet room. 

“I don’t know if I’d call that ‘fun’," you remark to your limp ex-boss, crouching to retrieve your knife. “A little anticlimactic, actually. Bit of a shame I had to do that. But also satisfying to see your plan turn out so well, don’t you think, Mando?” 

Din doesn’t answer right away, tucking away the bounty that he earned by catching you. “We should be on our way,” is what he finally grunts. “There’ll be more gang members swarming this place any minute now.” 

“I agree.” Rising to stand in front of him, you hold out your arms expectantly, casting a flirty smile up at his dark visor. “And, much as I enjoyed being your prisoner for a day, you can let me go now.” 

There’s a long pause. 

He stares down at your bound wrists, up at your face, down at your wrists again. He appears to be pondering something very intently, and your breath turns a little choppy for some reason. 

“I don’t think I will,” he says simply, after a little more consideration. 

“You won’t?” 

“Not yet.” His large hands tenderly find your hips, and he throws you over his shoulder again, walking out the exact same way you came in. “You’ve caused me quite a day here, you know. Keeping track of you like this might be the only way to make sure we don’t run into any more trouble.” 

“What would happen if I screamed ‘Help, I’m being kidnapped!’ as you carry me down the street?” 

He snorts. “No one’s going to help you here, Cyar’ika. Who’s going to challenge a Mandalorian over his prisoner?” 

You smirk. “No one in their right mind.” 

“Besides, you just said you enjoyed this.” There it is, a sly edge to his filtered voice, the indicator that he has more going on in his mind than simply staying out of more trouble. 

“Oh no, caught by an attractive bounty hunter! I’ll probably never see the light of day again.” You groan dramatically and drape yourself a bit more comfortably as he loosens up into an easier stride. “I’m completely at his mercy — who KNOWS what devious things he’ll do to me behind closed doors?” 

“This bounty hunter is hot and tired, and in need of a shower, if that gives you any consolation.” 

“Ah.” You poke him in the back. “Are you saying you’re all sweaty under this shiny shell, Cyare?” 

A hand slides up the back of your thigh, a subtle reminder that you ARE currently at his mercy, as you just said. 

Undeterred, you try again, knowing he must be getting more riled up than he lets on. “Have I ever told you how much I like it, when you take all these awful layers off for me and you’re all sweaty underneath…?” 

“I would rein in my suggestive tongue a little, if I were you.” He’s still looking straight ahead, but the edge beneath his words is a bit more strained now. “If you behave for me until we get back to the ship, maybe I’ll even take those binders off.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

He sighs. “My belt compartment back there. Take a look.” 

You manage to get it open, and can’t quite stifle a delighted sound as you pull out the dolovite ring from much earlier. “You sneaky son of a — ! How — ?” 

“I gave you a two-minute head start,” he shrugs, by way of explanation. 

“I adore you,” you inform him as you slip the ring onto your finger, admiring its burnished color. “I’ll be a good little prisoner for you, Mando, I promise. And who knows…,” you nudge him again. “Maybe I’ll let you keep these binders on me after all, since you’ve been so good to me today.” 

He can’t find anything to say to that, but by the fact that you can see the flush creeping up the back of his neck in that tantalizing gap between cowl and helmet, you know he’s definitely sweating now, if he weren’t before. 

“Is my big bad bounty hunter at a loss for words?” you tease softly. 

He clears his throat. “Just saving my voice, Mesh’la. If you’re REALLY well-behaved, I might — possibly — be persuaded to talk Tusken to you later. Possibly.” 

The idea takes a moment to fully crystallize in your brain; Din, and a shower, and binders, and if you just stop teasing him so naughtily in public he might actually bring that unreasonably provocative language into the bedroom? 

You finally let yourself relax into his hold, and after a bit you hear his breathy sigh of relief that you aren’t going to keep tormenting him anymore for the moment. 

After all, he has put forth an offer you can’t refuse. 

Ad'ika = Little One/Small child

Cabur = Protector

[avissapiens]

How to be a Bull Ch 7: Work

((FINALLY got to this one. Sorry yall.)) (Model is Elton Mota)

A prejudiced view might find it strange to see a Bull at such lofty heights in the corporate ladder. The uninitiated would see their size and assume that they have nothing to offer but eye-candy.

But our market research has shown that a large percentage of bulls actually thrive in high-achieving positions. Advertising, PR, R&D. Skilled professionals from doctors and lawyers to esteemed academics often get bit by the bull bug.

There is a clear set of transferable skills acquired when you spend your non-working hours totally gym obsessed. Discipline, Patience, Self-direction. Being able to work yourself, withstand the strain of constant progressive overload and always come back the next day ready for more.

Couple that with the bull lifestyle being more expensive than one would expect; with tons of protein, supplements and something’s extra. With specially tailored apparel because normal stores can’t contain your bulk any longer. With hyper-exclusive gym memberships and competition fee’s because that unending lust for growth requires constant improvement of facilities and community who shares your addiction.

The end result for the company is a driven, growth obsessed highly skilled worker who excels in handling large, well defined projects well ahead of the deadline because they know their muscle is at stake if they don’t.

*insert abyssal chanting*

Elton is the go-to guy for those big accounts at the Avis Athletics Agency. The look of absolute focus and fire in his eyes is sometimes frightening. Total dedication given to both sides of his life. They synthesize so naturally for him. It's like he puts every muscle and sinew into his work, and lets his work fuel every inch of growth. 

The gym at Agency HQ is state of the art, an obvious requirement given our team. But for Elton it basically functions as a secondary office space. On the phone talking with clients while he reps out a new PB on company time. He says his mind works best and is clearest when pumping iron. That pure euphoria of the mind-muscle connection truly boosting his performance through the roof. It’s such a potent addiction that when the gym was closed for maintenance for a month, the CFO offered to let Elton use his private suite just to keep his numbers high.

Company meetings with Elton are likewise a key to his productivity. The tight business attire straining around his form does end up distracting and reducing the overall work done by anyone else in the room, yes. But something about the attention drives our highest earning bull into a frenzy. Like his own personal audience. Intimately aware of how he outsizes every single man in the room. Going through the plan for an acquisition or a partnership deal that’ll PUMP PUMP PUMP the stock prices through the roof. Unconsciously flexing every time he gestures for a prop, veins visible beneath the sheer fabric of his dress shirt. Excitement palpable in the air as sweat trickles down that massive back, the fabric of his slacks starting to tighten even more. The rest of the boardroom doesn’t even need to speak. They know he’s got it.

In one wild 9-5 he gets the project that was slated to take 2 weeks on the CEO’s desk. Without a word he packed up and headed straight to the gym to unleash all that pent up energy. The CEO made a mental note to schedule more board meetings with Elton, and to make sure that his Holiday bonus was more than enough to ensure he came back from vacation 20lbs of pure muscle heavier 

To find resources to help embody your Bull Journey you can check out the Bull Archetype guide on my Patreon for free .If you’d like to support the creation of files like the one in this story, or you’d like access to exclusive files and files earlier than the rest of the world, then please, Support me on Patreon, And go and follow me on Youtube for more files. Also, be sure to join me and my community on Discord. 

[slytherheign]

WORTH THE PAIN | tasm!peter parker

PART 4/5 OF WORTH: THE SERIES.

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

SUMMARY: trusts are broken and tensions rise as everyone’s secrets start to reveal themselves.

WARNINGS: sexual assault, character death, manipulation, stalking, cursing, violence, and canon-typical injuries. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 17+]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: please remember that this is fan fiction and so some characters here will not act exactly the same way as their original material. this is my own twist and take of those characters.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

"Peter, please calm down,” Charlene pleaded with worry evident in her tone.

To say that the apartment was a mess would be an understatement. 

Peter spent the last 15 minutes frantically trying to find his missing phone while Charlene tried to calm him down. Carlos merely stared at the mess, completely frozen. It was the first time the couple had seen Peter like this. And him crawling around the place with his spider-like abilities made the situation more intense.  

“Oh, for the love of Go–PETER!” she bellowed. Peter stopped for a moment, glancing at her before going back to making a mess. Charlene had enough; she knew Peter was not in his right state of mind, and panicking would not help them make any progress on the case. She slightly nudged Carlos for help, but her partner was glued to his place, still shocked by the sudden change in Peter’s behavior. 

And to think that all it took was a name for Peter to behave like this.

“Peter, please,” she tried once again. “We can’t draw conclusions immediately. I know you’re really worried about her right now, but we have to be smart about all of this.”

Carlos seemed to be back on track. “She’s right. Come on, Parker. Let’s talk about what you know first, and then we’ll worry about your phone later, okay?”

Peter stopped all at once, drawing a long, shaky sigh. They were right. He had to calm down. He turned around, facing the couple, only to see them staring at what was once their living room. Confused, he followed their line of vision only to see the chaotic result of his trance earlier.

Every single cabinet door was open, with the stuff inside disorganized. The center table, its centerpiece, and the books Charlene kept under it were also not spared. And the couch… well… the pillows were out of their pillowcases, which were now on the floor along with the cushions. To keep things short, the room was not looking good.

“Shit–sorry,” he apologized, feeling embarrassed. How could he let himself act like that?

“We’ll fix it later,” Charlene reassured him. Peter looked at her like she had grown a second head. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she smiled, a hint of sadness in her voice that did not go unnoticed by her husband. Carlos knew damn well why Charlene was so kind and understanding to Peter, and it made him feel a little sad for his wife. “So, what do you know?” she asked Peter.

“Y/N works at a marketing company, and she once mentioned her HR manager was named ‘Mitch.’ If I’m correct, Mitch is Mitchell Gargan, who just happens to work at Greta Marketing Co.”

“That makes sense. But again, he’s innocent until proven guilty. We need proof that it’s really him. Besides, there’s also his twin… Mac Gargan. MG could be him,” Carlos added.

“Where’s Mitch now?” Charlene asked.

“I don’t know,” Peter’s shoulders slumped. He was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t much help to them. He desperately wanted to help more, but even his knowledge was limited. And because the case was extremely personal to him, he wasn’t exactly the best person to lead the team. He was left with one last option now: to let Charlene and Carlos lead the entire thing.

“Then let’s start with who we know. Mac Gargan. You said he was hired by Jonah Jameson, right?” Carlos asked.

He nodded. “A private investigator hired to inspect me. But I have no idea where he is now.”

“That may be true,” Charlene started to think of another way, “but we know where Jameson is.”

“There we go. A starting point,” Carlos agreed. “Let’s start planning.”

DAYS LATER.

“I still have no idea how we got past the guards so fast,” Carlos mumbled. The three were walking down the hallways inside the Daily Bugle building.

“We’re in New York. People don’t really care about you as long as you look decent. Plus, the fake IDs helped a lot, too,” Charlene retorted. The married pair wore security guard outfits, their fake IDs stapled on the chest pockets. 

“Remember the plan,” Peter reminded them. He was wearing his usual outfit with glasses and his camera. He didn’t need to wear a disguise. He had worked here before as a photographer, and some people still recognized him enough to let him in. He brought a fake ID, too—an edited and updated one to make it seem that the company decided to hire him again.

The plan was simple. Carlos would look out from the first floor, round the halls, and check the people who got in and out from the entrance. They had memorized Mac’s face before leaving the apartment, and Carlos was in charge of checking if that particular face entered or left the building. Charlene would accompany Peter to the 7th floor, but she would stay outside Jameson’s office, looking out for whoever or whatever hindered their plan. Lastly, Peter would enter Jameson’s office, ask him where Mac Gargan was, and leave once it was answered. He hoped there would not be a need for interrogation or threats but only a simple answer to their simple question.

However, Peter and the word ‘simple’ never had a good relationship. Jameson did not care that Peter was in the room. In fact, he mindlessly believed Peter’s story and didn’t even get suspicious that the company decided to hire him back. But as soon as Peter asked the question, Jameson was quick to reach towards the telephone and call security, only for Peter to grab it first and cut the wires with the scissors he found atop his desk.

“Do you know where Mac Gargan is?” he repeated.

Silence.

Jameson suddenly stood up and decided to run out of his office, yelling for security to get Peter out of the building. Unfortunately for him, Charlene was waiting on the other side and caught him before he could even get past the door. She pushed the man back inside the room; this time, she stayed inside the room and decided to join Peter in handling him.

Once Jameson knew that he had no chance against the tough woman, he stopped resisting and faced Peter—only to see that it was now the Spider-Man in front of him. Unbeknownst to them, when Charlene was struggling to get Jameson back inside the room, Peter took the opportunity to put the Spider-Man suit on. If being Peter was not intimidating enough for him to answer, then he was sure that being Spider-Man would do just the job. He wasn’t scared that Jameson knew his identity now because the information he had on Jameson relating to Scorpion would threaten him enough not to speak about his real identity to the media.

“You’re Spider-Ma—” Jameson could not believe that the answer to the mystery he had been trying to solve for years was right in front of him. It made sense to him now. The reason Peter had so many interesting shots of Spider-Man was because they were one.

“Look, I’m not gonna repeat this again,” Peter started slowly, “where the fuck is Mac Gargan?”

Jameson was scrambling through his mind on ideas how to escape the man in front of him. It was evident that he was feeling uneasy. It seemed that the mere thought of Spider-Man knowing that he had something to do with Scorpion was intimidating him. 

“I have no idea who Mac Gargan is,” he tried to play dumb, but Peter had enough of his bullshit.

“C’mon, man,” he scoffed. “We all know that’s bullshit. Remember when you hired him to investigate me before?”

Silence.

“Alright. Let’s change the question, then. Where the fuck is Scorpion?” he was staring daggers at the man. If looks could kill, Jameson would already be buried 6 feet underground right at the moment.

“What do you want?” 

“For you to let us know where Scorpion is. It’s really that simple.”

“I don’t know,” he stepped backwards as soon as he saw Peter grabbing the scissors again.

“You don’t know?” Peter mocked him, walking towards him at a slow but threatening pace. “Really?”

Carlos, on the other hand, realized that he was not making progress just walking down the halls and looking at people’s faces. He decided to go against the plan and went straight to the room where they monitored the cameras in and out of the building. Thank God that he did though, because as soon as he entered the room, he saw a glimpse of his wife and Peter in his suit at Jameson’s room interrogating the man. He had to do something and act on this fast, but the problem was two guards were monitoring the cameras. Thankfully, one was sleeping, and the other was distracted by playing Candy Crush on his cell phone. It wasn’t hard for him to convince them to leave the room.

“Hey, man! Why don’t you all rest for a bit? I think I saw a couch there outside. I’ll go watch over these,” Carlos suggested happily.

“Are you sure? Wait—I haven’t seen you before,” one guard stopped in his tracks.

“Oh! I forgot to introduce myself,” he replied. “I’m new here, sorry–I just noticed you getting bored and your friend here sleeping and thought you might want some rest, you know? I’m Carl, by the way,” he smiled.

“Well, Carl,” the guard tapped his shoulder, “we’ll accept that offer. I’m Chip,” Chip nudged his friend to wake him up, “Dale, let’s go.”

Carlos smiled while the two left the room, muttering ‘thanks’ on their way out. As soon as they left, he wasted no time and manipulated the footage. This was all he could do for now, deleting and manipulating all footage of the three of them being suspicious. He prayed Peter and his wife would be done the moment Chip and Dale returned.

Jameson still managed to stand his ground despite being terrified of him, but Peter knew he would soon break. “So?” he taunted, playing with the scissors by spinning them around his finger.

They soon played a staring game that neither wanted to lose. That was until Peter threw the scissors just inches above his head, and Jameson finally broke. “Wa-wait! Fine! Mac is in my basement. He’s staying at my house. I-in the b-basement,” Jameson had his two hands up in surrender.

“I have a feeling that’s not the only thing you know,” Peter pushed. Jameson stared at him—almost begging. But Peter had no intentions of backing down. He flicked his hands, webbing the door handle and the windows shut. If it wasn’t clear to Jonah before that there won’t be any chance of escaping the circumstance, it was clear as air to him now. “Okay! Okay! I’ll tell you everything when w-we get t-there,” he bargained. 

“Lead the way,” said Charlene as she cleaned up the webs Peter had so graciously put on almost everything. Meanwhile, Peter took the opportunity to put away the suit and dress as an employee yet again. On the other hand, Carlos was still monitoring the cameras, observing their every move. As soon as he saw the three exit the building, he made sure to corrupt the footage before leaving and following the other three.

Jameson was a fucking maniac. He had to be—because no sane person would keep a lab underneath their house. Oh, and to make things even worse, a large glass cylinder cell stood in the middle—and alas, Scorpion was inside it. 

Peter observed the passed-out entity before immediately turning to Jameson. “Explain. Now,” he demanded.

“MacDonald Gargan,” Jameson pointed at Scorpion. “When he failed to find out how you obtained those Spider-Man pictures years ago, I decided to hire him as a subject of an experiment. I wasn’t alone. With the help of Dr. Farley Stillwell, the goal was to give him the beneficial traits of a certain animal—a scorpion. We were aiming to create someone powerful enough to be capable of defeating Spider-Man. Defeating you.

“But the mutagenic treatment was too much for him; it began to affect his mind. The entire process was barely tested. We should’ve known it would happen.”

“How long ago was this experiment?” asked Charlene.

“3 years ago. Right after he failed to do the initial job we hired him for.”

“If this was years ago, why is he only attacking now?”

“Stillwell and I spent the majority of time developing the mutagenic treatment. We had no means to test it, so we just went with our guts to continue developing and developing until we thought it was perfectly done. And then, not until weeks ago, I remembered this guy right here,” he glanced at Mac. “I remembered this man and how eager he was to prove himself to anyone. So I decided to call him up and hire him for a new job. And because he had failed me before, he was so eager to prove himself to me and accepted instantly.

“For a while, everything was going well. We believed it worked. And it did work—only it made him insane. Stillwell and I tried to contain him, but we failed. The next thing we knew, he was on the news attacking a neighborhood. So Stillwell and I created this cell—one that’s strong enough to contain him—and with the help of some trusted friends, we were able to lure him inside. But we lost people in the process.”

“You mentioned ‘trusted friends’, who are they?” Carlos asked. Jameson was skeptical to answer. These ‘trusted friends’ were highly important and powerful people who could kill him at any moment if he decided to reveal their identity. But at the same time, he knew that these three people were no different. They may not come in many numbers, but he knew that Spider-Man and his two friends could also kill him. He had no other choice.

He sighed exasperatedly. “They’re really powerful people. Some people are from the government, the military, the media, the news, and the police. It’s a secret group that wants to kill Spider-Man. They cover up the mess that Stillwell and I make.”

Carlos and Charlene eyed each other. If what Jameson said was true, some of their colleagues at the station were a part of this secret group too.

“You haven’t talked about his suit. Can we remove it? Maybe make him weaker by removing it?” Peter asked this time.

“No,” Jameson shook his head. “He’s stuck in the suit. You can’t remove it, he can’t remove it, we can’t remove it. Mac and his suit are permanently bonded.”

“How long has he been contained here?”

“He’s been in here since his first attack.”

Now, everyone was confused.

“If he's been here since the first attack, and the first attack was back in the neighborhood, then who did I fight on that street?” asked Peter.

“Why can’t the city cameras see him? He always disappears,” asked Carlos.

“What happened to Dr. Stillwell? Where is he now?” asked Charlene.

“Dead,” a hoarse voice spoke from the cell. In an instant, Carlos and Charlene’s guns were raised and pointed at him. “Stillwell is dead. I killed him when they contained me here,” Mac smirked.

Peter, being the one who fought Scorpion on that street, was the only one in the room who realized that his voice was different from the Scorpion he had fought before.

Mitch was starting to make you uncomfortable. 

When you started your day and decided it was time to visit the Greta Marketing Co. building in the country, he started to ramble and admitted that work would not begin until next week.

You were not aware of that.

He then went on to say that the reason he had you leave New York a week early was to get you used to the country and the new environment. He even showed you a list of activities to do for a week with him before starting work next week.

That alone was already suspicious. But you still gave him a chance. Maybe he meant well, you thought.

Only he didn’t. Little did you know, everything would turn even worse. And spending a couple of days more with him would prove it.

Mitch has changed. He was not the same person you knew. Or maybe you never knew him all along.

It started with weird glances. 

The plan was to take a week-long tour to see the famous tourist spots in the country. You must admit, it was pretty exciting. There was so much fun in discovering cultures and getting enlightened by their traditions. Mitch glanced at you every once in a while, but you let it go. You thought that he was just checking up on you.

Which turned to staring.

He was definitely not just checking up on you. You realized that when you noticed it took him at least 4 minutes to get his eyes away from you. You knew because you felt it every time. He was also eyeing you up and down and checking you out.

Which then turned to forcing you into holding hands with him.

He would try to hold your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours. Of course, every time, you would reject it, but that never stopped him as he still kept on trying it every moment you two were in a room—which was every fucking moment because he simply would not leave you alone.

And now, stalking.

You were able to convince him to take the third day off by yourself. At first, he was hesitant to let you wander off alone, but you eventually got him to let you go. You went to the Greta Marketing building once and for all, to ask some questions about your new position and inquire about the adjustments you need to make to get settled. However, along the way, you started to sense that someone was following you. When you turned around, you were able to get a glimpse of someone with a white shirt and khaki pants behind a utility pole texting or pretending to text someone on their phone. You decided to let it go for a while; you didn’t want to immediately point fingers. What if that man was just a normal guy going to work and stopping to rest on a pole to text his family or friend? Besides, he was gone after you crossed a road.

You were fucking pissed when you left the building—you couldn’t believe what you just discovered. Suddenly, you found Mitch running towards you as soon as you stepped out of the exit. He was breathing heavily but you couldn’t care less. “What happened to you?” you asked.

“I just ran,” he answered. 

“Why?” 

“I-uh–well-uh, it’s not important,” he shook his head. “Did you go in there? Who did you speak to? What did they tell you?”

You debated on whether to tell him the truth or lie. You decided to lie, just as he did to you. 

He lied. He fucking lied. That’s why you were pissed the moment you left the building. There was a branch of Greta Marketing in Japan—that part was true—but they did not need you. You were made aware of that the moment you went there and asked for your position.

“I just spoke with the receptionist. The person I was hoping to talk to wasn’t there, so I didn’t get to know anything,” you lied. Mitch let out a breath of relief he tried to hide with a yawn. He thought you didn’t notice, but you certainly did.

And that wasn’t the only thing you noticed. You observed his outfit. He was wearing a white shirt with khaki pants.

“Let’s go back to our apartment?” he offered his hand.

You were disgusted, but you hid it with a smile. You had a plan. “Sure.”

You immediately went straight to the bathroom after entering your apartment. He joked about how you were so desperate for a pee, and you faked a laugh, saying it was because you were holding it in for quite some time. 

You didn’t pee. What you actually did was open your phone and try to book the soonest flight back to New York. You were hoping there was a flight today so you could leave as early as possible, but luck was unfortunately not on your side as you discovered that the last flight from New York to Japan and vice versa was actually yesterday. So you instead booked the next one. It was tomorrow. You flushed the toilet before leaving the bathroom.

And the waiting game began—only one more day.

“Do you know someone named Mitchell Gargan?” asked Peter.

Mac Gargan chuckled hoarsely. “My twin brother.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Everything.”

“Go ahead then,” Peter dared.

“Mitch and I used to be inseparable. We played the same games as children, watched the same cartoons, went to the same school and stuff, even fell in love with the same girl once—you know, the usual twin things. We were partners in crime. We protected each other, we cared for each other, and we lifted each other up. But everything changed when our mother died, and we were left to live with our father. We were still in school at that time, Mitch wanted to be a scientist and I wanted to be a detective or an investigator.

“We were always at the top of the class but he has always been the smarter one. That’s why he always excelled in his subjects. He was forced to stop it, though, because our father wasn’t very into the idea of science. He didn’t believe in any of the science shit and did not want to support Mitch in his dream of becoming a scientist, so he didn’t have any choice but to pursue a business-related course. He started changing after that. He rarely talked to me and started being reclusive. He always preferred to be alone and would only get out of his bedroom when it was time to eat. Our father didn’t care. He never fucking cared about our well-being. 

“When our father died, Mitch started talking to me again, but he was not the same. I started my investigation and discovered that he had a made-up lab in a secluded area where he was mixing chemicals and experimenting on animals. It turned out that he still continued living his scientist dreams despite not getting education for it. I let it slide. I thought that he was just doing that to compensate for the dream he would never accomplish. 

“Everything got worse when we graduated. He was jealous and angry because I graduated my dream course and he didn’t. To be fair, it was understandable that he felt that way. His way of coping was downing countless bottles of alcohol. One time when he had been drinking too much, he let it slip that he fantasized about stalking women, trapping them, and doing things to them—the worst part was he imagined that they would eventually end up dead. From the way he spoke about assault and murder in such a calm way, I didn’t recognize my twin brother anymore.

“I planned on informing the authorities about his fantasy, but I had no proof that he said it, and he then threatened me when he found out that I knew. He had a knife in my throat, threatening me that if I ever told someone he would do much more than that. That was the moment when I outsmarted him. You see, I learned my lesson that night when he was drunk, so I always wore a hidden camera just to catch him the next time we would talk. And guess what? I recorded the entire conversation of him threatening me. He was sentenced to prison, and we never talked again.”

“Is he still in jail?” Peter asked. He thought that if this Mitch was still in prison, maybe the Mitch that was with you in Japan wasn’t the same as Mitchell Gargan. It was a possibility that even Peter himself found it hard to believe in.

“No,” Mac coldly admitted.

“And how are you sure?” Carlos interrogated.

“Because the son of a bitch once paid me a visit. I thought he was going to break me out of here but no. He wanted something else.”

Peter held his hand up, causing everyone in the room to look at him. By this moment, Peter immediately knew the next words Mac would say, so he needed to act fast. He pulled Charlene and Carlos into a corner, instructing them to leave the city and get to you as soon as possible. Once the couple had left, Peter turned back to the creature behind the glass.

“What did he want?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

“The formula.”

Mac then glanced at Jameson with a knowing look. 

“He got it. And with his science background shit, I assume he was able to modify it to make him turn from human to Scorpion and from Scorpion to being human again.”

You should’ve known to run the moment he planned this entire trip and kept it a secret from you.

The moment you stepped out of the bathroom, you knew you weren’t safe anymore. Your choices were limited, and time was running out fast.

Only a day had passed, but it was excruciatingly long because Mitch started to get touchy. He was adamant about invading your privacy to the point that it was hard to pack your bags without him noticing. And every time you asked for space, he would turn the tables figuratively and make it seem that you were being impolite and ungrateful for his efforts.

So now here you were, at your shared apartment, having that same argument over again. Only this time he actually apologized. Like sincerely apologized.

Or so you thought. 

He stepped towards you, asking for a hug, which you did not want to give him at first, but he proposed a deal that if you gave him one last hug, he would be gone in your life forever. And for some reason, you agreed to do it.

Your mind has once again failed to stop your ever-kind heart as you proved to be a fool of his calculated offenses.

He was hugging you too tight, you couldn’t even breathe anymore. While his left arm was suffocating you in a hug, his other hand started to roam your body before it settled on your clothed ass and squeezed it. You froze entirely while his hand continued to feel your body until it stopped at your crotch, and he started rubbing it with his fingers.

You managed to push him away, and with all your might, you grabbed your bag under your bed and headed towards the door. You successfully passed the bedroom door, hoping to get to the main entrance as fast as possible, but you were stopped when a hand threw your whole body away from the door. You had never seen Mitch this angry and powerful before. 

Mitch was not the type of person who worked out. He was lean, tall, and he wore glasses. His hair was always a ruffled mess, and he talked in such a slow and soft cadence.

You should’ve been wiser not to let yourself be deceived by appearances.

You stood up with shaking knees and a trembling body, hoping to get through the door, but you were interrupted once more when he caught your throat with his hand. You soon found yourself getting lifted up by the throat every passing second. Your eyes were closed as you tried kicking him and scratching his arm, but he was unbelievably strong. You opened your eyes to look at what was once your friend, but you were met with the sight of him turning into the monster you saw on television.

You gathered every last bit of strength you had as you screamed as loud as you could, forcing him to release his hold of you and cover his ears. 

And you did the only thing you’ve known to do for years—whether from your problems, from threats, or from love…

You ran.

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST:  @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @writingstoraes @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20​ @the-quiet-observer

THANKS FOR PATIENTLY WAITING FOR THIS PART! SEE YOU SOON FOR THE FINALE :)

[drabblesandimagines]

Bumblebee

For an anon reader request - please read for a little more detail. Pairings: Rei x you

--

“I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to stop my precious baby sister from continuing down this path of criminal activity!” Kazuki has tears in his eyes. It’s taking everything in you not to roll your eyes in exasperation, trying to work out exactly how you ended up in this predicament.

Tiredness had made you sloppy and you were furious at yourself. About a week ago, the police had been tipped off to your syndicate’s base. It was petty crime compared to some of the other things you knew happened in the city – pickpockets, shoplifters, occasionally you pulled off a bigger heist but nothing too bad. A disused office building had been home for a good few years, heck, you’d even made one of the old units into what some might’ve considered a bedroom. You’d been out around the regular tourist spots when a text came through from an unknown number. “Base breached. Do not return.” You knew the higher ups would be working on some new accommodation - that is at least if they hadn’t been arrested – and chasing out the rat, but in the meanwhile you had to keep your head down low and put up with sleeping out. Originally, the thought hadn’t phased you – you’d done it a fair few times in your teens on first leaving the orphanage - but the first night you realized how much you’d come to appreciate your office bedroom, knowing you weren’t exposed. The result was patchy half-sleep on cold concrete, arms clamped around the rucksack which held everything you still owned.

You’d been in this particular mall a few times now, taking from different shops to then try and trade things down the market for some petty cash for food. The lack of decent sleep finally took its toll though as you didn’t quite clock the camera right above you as you slipped the perfume into your pocket. It wasn’t long after that than there was the steel grip of the security guard on your shoulder, escorting you to the back office.

“Now, young lady, tell me what this is all about, hmm?” He’s laid out the items you’d secreted into your jacket and bag in front of you. It’s all stuff you can easily resell. “Surely you have a bright future ahead of you that doesn’t involve any of this.”

You realise he thinks you’re much younger than you are and you can work this to your advantage – you’re pushing 24 now, but he’s taken your youthful appearance as a teenager at best.

Cue the waterworks. “I’m so sorry, sir. Please forgive me, I don’t know what I was thinking. It was a silly dare and I don’t know what came over me!”

“A dare?” He raises an eyebrow.

“From some kids at school. I can’t believe I let them press me into something so foolish and illegal. Oh, sir, I beg of you, college applications are so soon, I can’t believe I’ve ruined my life before it’s even begun!” You blub.

 “Now, now”, he tries to soothe. “I think we can write off this as a youthful indiscretion, but I need you to call your guardian to come and collect you.” He slides over your mobile phone that he’s retrieved from your rucksack that he confiscated whilst looking for stolen goods. “You dial, I’ll speak to them.” Shit. Your mind whirs over who to call. You can’t call your boss – you’d never hear the end of it. You can’t call your parents because, well, they don’t exist… There’s one person you could call.

You load up the contact and slide it back over. “Kazuki Kurusu?” He reads.

“Mm. He’s my big brother.”

--

It’s been a few months since you last saw him. Life’s been a little busy. He’s not really your older brother, of course, you met in the orphanage when you were four and he was eight and you’d started following him around like a lost puppy. After you’d apparently pestered him enough, he began to dote on you and the pair of you become inseparable, calling each other brother and sister. The caregivers tried to nip it in the bud. Didn’t you want to be adopted? The interested parties didn’t want two children, they just wanted a sweet little girl, but you weren’t going to be swayed. Any and all attempts at fostering you were swiftly quelled due to your incessant crying about ‘big brother Zuki’.

The two of you had stuck together up until he turned 18 and the state no longer had to care for him. Kazuki was dumped out onto the street where he was recruited - as most kids who didn’t end up being adopted from that particular orphanage - by a local gang who offered shelter and food for participating in their grifts and cons. Contact between the two of you became infrequent for a while. Kazuki wasn’t allowed to visit but he’d try and catch you on the way home from school when he wasn’t on the job. He’d spoken about you coming to live with him when you turned 18, that you’d not end up like him and had a solid start to adult life…

But, when the time came, Kazuki had entered into a whirlwind romance. He was married and there was a baby on the way and you didn’t fit in the picture anymore – and that was fine. It was always a bit of a pipe dream. When you turned 18, your then-boyfriend recruited you in with his local gang – they said you had the perfect, sweet face not to be suspected of any wrongdoing and taught you everything you needed to know about surviving on the streets. You kept in contact, sporadically – meeting up every once in a while. There was some radio silence after his wife and unborn child died and you didn’t press him. Eventually, he popped up again trying to mother you but you were fine, you didn’t need it. You knew he’d moved in with someone and had redirected his nurturing elsewhere.

“Hey, bumblebee!” Kazuki’s cheerful voice came down the line and you cringed. Of course he was still calling you that.

“Mr Kurusu?” The security guard enquires down the phone. “I’m afraid I have your sister in the security office here…”

About 20 minutes later, he appears in the office, looking flustered and wearing an apron but still the same old Kazuki. He’s left the house in a hurry and you feel a slight twang of guilt that despite your sporadic contact, he’ll still drop everything to come to your rescue. You offer a hesitant smile, not quite sure how to play this off. He stares at you, distraught.

“I am so sorry, sir.” Kazuki bows his head to the security guard. “Please forgive my little sister. She’s not normally like this at all, I assure you.”

“Yes, well, she seems a bright young girl.” You have no idea where the security guard is basing this assumption on, but you know Kazuki will run with it.

“Oh, she is! Papa and Mama had such high hopes for her career aspirations but ever since they died, her upbringing has rested on my shoulders and I have failed her as her guardian.” Kazuki begins to sob, holding up his apron to his eyes.

“Sir, please,” the security guard places a hesitant hand on his shoulder. “The store won’t be going any further with this – ah, what should we call it? - indiscretion. I trust you and Miss Kurusu here to make the right decisions from now on.”

Kazuki gains control of his sobs and smiles weakly as he dabs his face clear of tears. You need to congratulate him after, this is some A+ acting he’s developed.

“I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to stop my precious baby sister from continuing down this path of criminal activity! Sister, thank this kind man for his understanding.”

You get to your feet and nod politely. “Thank you. I will never forget your forgiveness and compassion, sir. I’ve truly learned my lesson – seeing the upset on my dear brother’s face is punishment enough.”

“Good.” The security guard smiles and escorts the two of you to the front door, watching as Kazuki leads you to a yellow car – typical Kazuki – and opens the passenger seat door. You get in and he goes over to the driver’s side, waving at the security guard before starting the engine and heading out of the mall’s parking lot. You wait until the building’s disappeared in the rearview mirror before you speak up.

“Thanks for that. Just drop me off anywhere, I can find my way.”

He scoffs. “And find your way to where, exactly?”

“Wherever.” You shrug.

A pause. “Are you sleeping rough, bumblebee?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m a little old for that nickname now, aren’t I?”

“Don’t think you can skirt around the question.”

“Just between accommodations this week – I’ll be fine.” You can’t lie to him, he knows all your tells.

“Mm, you look in need of a good meal and a good night’s sleep – both of which you can get at my apartment. Plus, you can meet your niece.”

“My what now?”

--

“I’m back!” Kazuki calls as he opens the front door to the apartment. You’re not even a step in and you can tell it’s fancy – way fancier than anything you’ve ever stayed. You’ve never been back here before – it’s usually been a café that Kazuki likes to frequent when you did meet in person.

There’s a man sat on the couch, messy black-hair, dressed in shorts and a white t-shirt with a cat on it and he looks pretty cute. He’s absorbed in the video game he’s playing on a wide-screen TV.

Kazuki has his arm around your shoulders again as he enthusiastically introduces you to his room-mate Rei, who pauses his game to stare at you.

He’s easy on the eyes, that’s for sure. “Hi.” You wave.

“You’ve never mentioned a sister before.” He frowns.

“Sure I have! You just don’t listen - bumblebee, remember?”

He stares at you again for a moment then there’s a look of realization. “Bumblebee’s a girl?”

“Yes… Wait, what did you think?”

“I thought it was a bee.”

“You… You thought all those stories I told you about my childhood was me and an actual bee?” Rei nods. “I don’t understand what goes on in your head sometimes.”

“I mean, I’m not really your sister either, Zuki.” You try and shrug out from underneath his arm but his grip remains tight.

“How can you say that? The bond we forged is stronger than any blood ties!”

“Still as dramatic as ever.” You look over at Rei. “How do you put up with this?”

He shrugs, eyes back on the screen. You take a look at what he’s playing and recognize it immediately – Morio Kart. They’d had a games console set up in the communal area in the base – pilfered from a lorry you hijacked and you often spent the night playing. “Ohhh, nice hit.” You compliment as he takes out another racer, sitting down besides him, earning you a smug grin.

--

Rei goes to pick up Miri from daycare whilst Kazuki fills you in on the last few months, though a little bit scarce on some details. That’s Kazuki though, if he thought you really needed to know, he’d tell you. Miri is a whirlwind from the second she gets home from daycare, but it’s clear Kazuki is in his absolute element with her.

The little girl stares up at you in wonder as Kazuki introduces the two of you. “She’s sorta like Papa Kazuki’s little sister, which makes her your auntie. I called her bumblebee when we were growing up.”

“Auntie Bee!” She squeals.

“Er, no,” you try and correct her with your real name, but now she’s running around the apartment, pretending to be a bee, wanting you to chase her. You know you’ve lost the battle before it even begun and Kazuki finds it hilarious. “Auntie Bee it is, I guess.” But, deep down, you don’t hate it.

You eat dinner together, Miri insists you join her Papa Kazuki for a story before bed and you can’t wipe the smile off the face as the two of you come back downstairs.

“You’ve got a real sweet thing going on here.”

“I’ve fallen on my feet, right enough.” He says wistfully, before his face turns serious. “Are you okay, though?” You know he wants to ask what you’re doing for work, how you’re surviving, but he probably doesn’t want to hear the real answer. He can’t contradict when you both live the wrong side of the tracks.

“I’m fine - promise. You do you, I do me.” You wrap your arms around his waist in a hug. “I have missed you though, Zuki.”

“Mm,” he hugs you back. “Let’s not leave it so long.”

He sets you up with spare blankets and a pillow for the sofa, lecturing Rei not to stay up too late and game when you’re trying to sleep, but you’re already a fair few matches deep with him to care and, to be honest, you wouldn’t mind spending some alone time with the man – he’s definitely very easy on the eyes.

“Oh, and Rei sleeps in the bathroom.” Kazuki calls as he heads up the stairs. “Don’t ask.”

“You do?” You raise an eyebrow at the man but he shrugs, taking advantage of Kazuki’s distraction to shoot by you on the second lap. “Hey!”

The matches are competitive, but between them you still find any excuse to put your hand on him – his shoulder, his arm, his thigh… It gets him a little flustered and you find it cute. It’s often up to the final lap as the two of you switch between first and second place. This time, Rei takes it and he playfully sticks his tongue out at you as he takes the win.

“Hm, you just got lucky.” You cross your arms in defiance.

“Sure I did. Another?”

“I think I need some inspiration – what does the winner get?”

“Bragging rights.”

“Nah, I need more than that.”

“Like what?” He sounds puzzled.

“Like…” you bite your lip, you’ve always been a shameless flirt. “If I win, you take me out for pizza.”

“Oh?” His cheeks flush a little, but he keeps his eyes on the game menu. “I guess I could do that.”

“What do you want if you win?”

“If I win, you take me to the arcades.”

“Deal.”

The next championship is neck and neck. You take the first race, full of determination, but Rei brings it back in the second. The final race is a constant switching of first and second, throwing items at each other. The finish line is in sight when your character slips on a banana peel timed perfectly by Rei, sending you crashing off into the side and three CPUs fly ahead of you. You know you’ve lost then – there’s no item blocks left and there’s no way you can get ahead of them all in time. Rei, however, is about to cross the finish line, so just before he can you yank the controller out of his hands and send his character spinning off into the wall. A CPU goes over the line but that’s the last you see as Rei tackles you off the couch.

You’re trapped between his thighs as he snatches the controller out of your hands and drives over the line in a measly fifth. He glares down at you as you grin.

“Sorry, I probably should’ve mentioned I’m a sore loser.”

He says nothing. You try and sit up but you’re firmly wedged between his legs and there’s no give. “Er, can I get up now?”

He grins, slyly. “I think I’ve changed my mind of what I get if I win.”

“Oh?”

“I think the victor deserves a kiss.”

You feel blood rush to your cheeks at that but you’re keen. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mm.”

“See, I’m not sure if you can just change the rules like that right at the end.”

“You tried to cheat, call it a forfeit.” He sits back, finally allowing you to sit up right.

“Hmm. Well, I guess I did, and we never did discuss what should happen if one of us cheated.” You’re leaning in as you speak, getting closer and closer.

“Are you two still up?!” Kazuki hisses in a theatrical whisper from his bedroom door and you bump heads together in fright.

“Ugh… No, no, just going to bed.” You whisper back to the blonde as Rei gets to his feet, sheepishly rubbing his forehead where the two of you collided.

Kazuki’s door closes back over and you smile at Rei. “Busted.”

“Lucky escape for you.”

“My big brother does always have my back…” You step up on your tiptoes and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, Rei.”

“Goodnight,” he smiles shyly, heading to the bathroom. You collapse on the couch and sigh contentedly into a pillow.

--

You wake up early to your phone buzzing with a text. It’s a location – it looks like either a rendezvous point to be taken to the new base, or the base itself but you know you need to get there pretty quick either way. You grab a piece of paper from Miri’s colouring pile and write down a message for Kazuki, thanking him for putting you up for the night. There’s a moment’s hesitation before you write your phone number down on another piece of paper, before sliding it under the bathroom door.

“Sneaking out?” Kazuki’s voice chimes from the staircase. How in the hell did he do that without you noticing?

“No, afraid work beckons. I was leaving a note though, see?” You hold up the piece of paper in evidence.

“Good.” He walks over and pulls you into a hug. “Promise it won’t take another trip to a security guard’s office until we see each other again?”

“Mm-hm,” you nod, staring at the bathroom door behind him. “You’ll get sick of the sight of me.”

--

A few days later, as evening rolls in and Miri’s getting ready for bed, there’s a knock at the door and Rei is apparently keen to answer it. Kazuki doesn’t think much of it at first – maybe it’s a game he pre-ordered or something – but he hears more conversation at the door from Rei than he’s used to over the years of living with him.

You’re standing at the door, smiling as Rei puts his shoes on.

“Back so soon?” Kazuki chuckles.

“Actually, Rei and I are going to play some games at the arcade.” You shrug, trying to spin a casual air on things.

“The arcade?!” Miri manages through a yawn, “Can I come?”

“Not this time, kiddo. It’s your bedtime.” Rei ruffles her hair and she pouts.

“We’ll go when you’re more awake, how about that?” You soothe, crouching down to her level and she nods. Kazuki clocks how Rei’s smiling at you and he puts two and two together in alarm.

“Hey, buddy…” he warns, “you are not going on a date with my sister!”

“Mm, not really your sister…” You tease, turning around to head to the elevator. Rei goes to follow you before he pauses.

“It is a date though.” He smirks and the door slams shut before Kazuki can react.

He feels Miri tug at his leg.

“Papa Kazuki, when do I get a sister?”

--

Please see my Masterlist and Requests Welcome posts if you have an idea in mind too!

[colorful-white-ideas]

Bill did promote BKW and we didn't notice it?

I know I've been very critical of Bill lately because of the last marketing fiasco of the Boy Kills world promotion. But one anon brought to my attention something that made me think in some coincidentical events of last year that now make sense. Have time? This is looooong

Anon said "Now that I know that he initially did the voice over as shown at TIFF and he got replaced, maybe that played a part into his lack of promotion, especially as the lead "

2023

- July 22 : Bill is spotted attending a UFC match in London.

- July 23: the BKW trailer comes to light, the famous " Cannes trailer". Someone found it and shared it with the world. Don't ask me who I just remember it was everywhere suddenly I even made a post about it too. Now (2024) is no longer up on that page. In that trailer the boy inner voice was different from the one we have now.

- The bobbysill IG acc caught our attention again after days of speculation if it was Bill's or not . Bob uploaded this :

*Willemandersson is Bill's friend.

-July 24: this same acc had a mental breakdance after someone went to the BKW producers to complain about someone "leaking" pictures of the movie without an official release of the trailer , calling it a hoax and bla bla ( sadly I don't have screenshots of those negatives comments but the pic of Boy is later erased) Bob starts posting a couple of pics that no one has ever seen before and that are absolutely Bill related:

Now let's jump in time.

August 3 The Toronto international film festival announces BKW premiere for sep 9

Sep 2 Bill is seen attending one again a UFC match in Paris .

Sep 9 The day of the premiere in Canada. Bill went to another UFC event , this time in Uppsala.

Coincidence?

Isn't curious that every time something big about BKW was out or about to happen ,Bill , let himself be seen in a UFC match ? It is very well known that he loves those sports, so I don't think these were the first or only times he attended a public UFC event.

Which is more important: the images we saw of him among the public didn't come from fans around him but from the official media present at the event. They were not accidental sightings, he wanted people to see him there. He knows how to hide , he could have gone and refused to be acknowledged in the public but he smiled and played along with the media there.

In 2023 the SAG AFTRA strike paralyzed the industry, no one could really promote upcoming projects without being accused of going against the strike. Maybe this was his way to promote the material, also for what we see now of the BTS shots , he had a really good time filming. I bet he was so excited about this movie he literally couldn't wait to start showing off what he was able to do.

After all HE and his team reached out to the crew asking to audition for the movie. You can look it up. So this movie wasn't just a cash grab for him HE WANTED to be part of it.

But something happened cause that enthusiasm was non-existent this year.

The first critics to the movie at the TIFF were 50/50. Not very impressive.

2024 it is announced that the inner voice now will be done by H. Jon Benjamin. The original voice was replaced just months before the world premiere.

There is a trailer going around with a voice that pretty much sounds like Bill and if it's really his I can hear he put a lot of effort to give the character an identity that went beyond than just the goofy one the director wanted as the final product.

( * personal note I like both results )

Maybe anon is in some way right after all ? Maybe Bill agreed on erasing his voice but as an exchange decided to not use his actual voice to promote it.

A tantrum ? Yes absolutely. But also if you think about it maybe he saw it like they didn't take him seriously, his whole effort was not appreciated so along with the production team decided to "stay in character" and not talk about Boy. Others could do it for him.

****PLEASE do not take this as proof of anything, it's just speculation I did on my way home from my job.

He by all means could be just a diva who just didn't want to be part of the fuss of this premiere and that's it. Only the crew and him know what really happened. ****

[mewmedic]

A Deal with the Devil

Someone on the Lolita fashion subreddit asked what we can do about newbies who do not know how to find clothes outside of (the well documented scam site) Devil Inspired. I wrote the following in response and thought it was worth cross posting here.

To be very blunt: most people are too illiterate to read pinned posts (even though that should just be basic reddit etiquette) and too lazy to move their eyes to the area of their screen where there is a link to a guide that answers their questions. You can't fix stupid at a certain point, once people get stuck in their ways.

Really, the only action we could do would be to change the subreddit banner image at the top to say "PLEASE DON'T BUY FROM DEVIL INSPIRED. READ A GUIDE ON HOW TO BUY FROM TAOBAO." We probably need a pinned post saying the same thing in the title, with an explanation of taobao in the body and links to some guides. That may be absurd, but I truly think its the only bullet we have left in the chamber. Even then, most people will ignore it. It really sucks that this subreddit has become the Devil Inspired Customer Service Hotline.

There are just too many people (some millennials but especially zoomers) who lack the ability to use the internet properly. With the "enshittification" of google, people now expect human beings on reddit to answer every single one of their lingering thoughts. But let's be real, the "let me google that for you" situation existed for a decade before google started to suck. Devil Inspired is the first result when googling lolita fashion because they pay to have good SEO and be at the top. Most people are not internet savvy enough to google "[store name] scam" or "[storename] alternatives" when they encounter a new store online. That's not even getting into Devil Inspired shoving sponsor bucks down influencer's throats so they can vomit advertisements back out onto their naive audience.

I understand why a normal western person would know nothing about taobao. However, anyone with intermediate internet experience should be able to tell that Devil Inspired does not manufacture the clothes they sell. No one makes that wide of a variety of styles that quickly, plus the wide variety in photography styles (and they sometimes forget to hide the original store's watermark.) Next, they should know to reverse google image search photos from Devil Inspired's catalogue. Their last resort should be to go to the "find this dress" pinned post on this subreddit. Then, if they discover there that the dress is from a taobao store they could just google "how to buy from taobao." But they don't do any of these things because the average internet user does not know they can.

Just a few days ago we had some one here ask to be spoonfed information about gothic lolita, something they could easily find themselves. When some one kindly gave them a link to the lolita wiki, the OP had the nerve to complain because they don't like Fandom wikis. I fucking hate Fandom and have a personal beef with them, but I wouldn't complain being spoonfed information for free from there. That person will never comprehend why people created fandom wikis in the past and they definitely won't understand why it's very hard to leave Fandom wikis. I am including this recent experience to illustrate why Devil Inspired is not the only problem here, people's attitudes just plain suck some times.

TLDR: We are fighting an unwinnable battle against people's illiteracy, refusal to learn, and Devil Inspired's fat stacks of marketing cash.

[ljxlj48]

A Racer's Heart

Chapter 03

F1Driver!Jeno X Reader X F1Driver!Jaemin

Preview, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05…

Genre: love triangle, co-workers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers

Warnings: swearing, suggestive content, drugs, alcohol, angst, dangerous situation

Word Count: 3.1K+

Author's Note: I am not good at making sure I got all the warnings, so if you guys think I should include something please let me know. Also after this chapter most of the story revolves around their relationships rather than the sport, so it should pick up from here on out. hugs and kisses to anyone reading <3333

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

“16 turns, two DRS zones, I want you to make sure that no one is within a second of you on the straights, that’s basically going to be like…” 

“Like giving my position away,” Jeno cuts off your statement as you both walk into the garage.  “I got this y/n, it’s not my first time racing in Barcelona.” 

“I know,” you conceid. 

“It’s only practice today, I’m gonna be okay,” Jeno spoke slowly and reassuringly.  He knew.  He can’t say how he knows, but he knows that you become extra anxious when he is out on the circuit.  He knows that you hold onto your breath whenever you watch him overtake someone.  He knows you don’t stop until he’s out of the car.  He knows you’re waiting for him to come back at the end of every race.  He knows it.  

“I know,” you try to smile reassuringly.  You don’t know if you’re trying to reassure yourself or Jeno right now.  But you try.  

-

Barcelona goes by faster than you anticipate.  You imagine that it goes by even faster for Jeno.  You stand on the sidelines throughout the weekends, watching Jeno on the circuit, on his media duties, on his press conferences.  You watch Jeno’s relationship with the team grow and grow.  His mechanics are starting to get comfortable around him.  The pit crew is talking more with him.  Jeno was always a friendly person, he could never stand someone not liking him.  Even his and Jaemin’s relationship has picked up.  

They’re beginning to look like the best of friends nowadays.  When you guys finally make it to Monaco, there isn’t a moment where they are separated from each other.  All their media duties are being done together.  The marketing team loves the amount of free and openly available content they can use.  The fans are loving it, you think you saw a ship post the other day on social media.  And both of them are starting to do better during the races too.  

P6 and P7 for Jeno and Jaemin, respectively, in Barcelona.  Then P5 and P6, for Jaemin and Jeno, respectively, in Monaco.  

-

You stood outside the media bullpen, watching the two of them conduct their post-race interviews in Monaco.  “Jaemin, this is the first race of the season that you out-qualified and outperformed your teammate, do you think it’s about time?” 

You held your breath waiting for Jaemin’s response, you could hear him chuckle a bit.  “I mean, it feels great to get great results for the team and myself, but like I said in past races, my failure to perform at a high level early on in the season is my fault alone.  And I think if I work hard at it, I will continue to have performances like I did this afternoon.”  

“Thank you Jaemin,” the reporter said.  You let out your breath after hearing Jaemin’s response. You decided at that time maybe it was best to be on your way, gather your notes to present to Jeno about the race.  

Just as you walked away, you heard someone call out to you.  You turned back around to spot Jaemin waving you down.  “y/n?”

“Yes?” you took this moment to take all of Jaemin in.  He was extremely handsome, his racesuit half off tied around his waist.  The fireproofs were hugging his biceps perfectly, and the sweat dripping down the side of his face, gave him a sultry look.  You found yourself licking your lips.  

“Me and some of the team are going out to a nightclub tonight, join us?” 

“Um, I don’t know Jaemin.  I’m not that familiar with the Monaco night scene.”  

“Come on y/n, you’ll be with me there won’t be anything to worry about,” Jaemin added, trying to convince you.  “Jeno also said he was gonna come out tonight.” 

You were taken aback slightly by the mention of Jeno.  He usually always invites you out with him whenever he’s going out.  You wondered why he didn’t invite you tonight, writing it off as maybe he forgot or maybe he wasn’t actually going to go out tonight.  “I still have some work to do, I don’t know what time I’ll finish.”  

“y/n, we don’t have to be in Azerbaijan until next week,” Jaemin tilted his head a bit to the right, his eyes piercing right through you, “I’ll pick you up from the hotel at 8, be ready.”  

Before you could protest anymore, Jaemin walked away.  Not that you were really going to protest.  Jaemin was infamous for getting anyone and everyone to agree with his agendas.  You also thought that maybe you could use a night out, especially since everyone always talks about the Monaco night scene.  And if anything Jeno might be there, so it won’t be so bad.  

-

You travel from country to country, not in one place for too long that you don’t really pack a lot of clothes.  You probably had everything that was in your luggage sprawled out on your bed.  Jaemin said he was gonna pick you up at 8, and you weren’t ready to go until 7:59.  You made sure to use up all your time in getting ready for tonight.  

The car ride to the nightclub was short, Jaemin didn’t speak much, or at all.  He greeted you when you entered the car, but nothing more than that.  When you guys arrived, Jaemin took your arm, as he walked you into the club.  The small gesture causes a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.  However that soon would disappear, when you lost Jaemin into the crowd.  The first minute or 15 didn’t bother you, as you knew Jaemin was popular, and there were probably a lot of people for him to greet.  

It wasn’t until you spent the greater part of an hour trying to figure out where Jaemin was, in a packed nightclub.  You thought about getting a cab to take you back to your hotel, as you weren’t that comfortable being out by yourself.  

“What’s a pretty girl doing alone here?” someone had come up to ask you. 

“Oh,” you tried to laugh it off, “I'm here with a friend we just got separated from each other for a second.” 

“Well let's sit at the bar and try to find them.” the guy suggested with a smile, your gut told you to say no.  To say that you could find Jaemin on your own, but your mind was telling you to calm down.  

“Okay,” you said, as you let them lead you to the bar.  

You found a singular seat at the bar.  The guy said he didn’t mind standing and letting you sit.  He began to talk, asking what your friend looked like to help keep an eye out, for you.  You gave Jaemin’s description, you didn’t want to expose the fact that you were with a world renowned race car driver.  

“Look, whoever your friend is, he’s an ass for leaving you alone like this,” the guy spoke frankly to you.  You could tell he was attempting to make a move on you, but you left your guards up. 

“He really didn’t mean to leave me alone, he just went to greet some people he knew and we got separated.”  You came to Jaemin’s defense, making up false excuses for him.  When quite frankly, he was being an ass.  You told him you weren’t familiar with the Monaco night scene, and he still insisted for you to come along.  Just to leave you the second you got here.  

While you continued to look around the club to hopefully see any familiar face, the guy that was standing by you at the bar continued to make small talk.  In order to pass the time, and to appear not being rude, you entertained the conversation.  The guy standing in front of you had to be over six feet tall, with a fair complexion, and piercing eyes.  Most definitely European, he had dark hair, and his accent made him sound French.  But everyone here speaks French.  

He was actually being fairly respectful, he didn’t invade your personal space without asking.  He never touched you, and he kept his hands where you could see them.  He also pretended to look for Jaemin in the crowd with you.  He was being so nice, that you felt bad for keeping your guard up.  

“We still didn’t find your friend, let me at least get you a drink,” he asked.  

“Okay, a martini, dry,” you took a breath, “please.” 

“You got it.” 

You let him talk to the bartender while you continued to look into the crowd trying to find Jaemin.  You wouldn’t be so hell bent on finding Jaemin, but he was your ride, and you don’t even know what club you are at tonight.  

“Here is your drink,” the guy said, as he picked up his beer from the counter, and you turned around to pick up your martini. “If your friend is as good as you say he is, i’m sure he’ll come looking for you.” 

“He better, he’s my ride back to the hotel.” 

“Hotel? You don’t live here?” You took a sip from your drink.  Wrong move, never let a stranger know you’re just a tourist.  “Neither do I, I was just here for the Grand Prix.  Were you here for that too?” 

You calmed down, the alcohol in your drink loosening you up a bit, “yeah, I actually was.”  

“Amazing race wasn’t it?  Do you have a favorite team or maybe driver?” 

“It was a good race, my favorite driver is Lee,” you answered.  

“Ah yes, my favorite would have to be Pierre, gotta support the French.” 

“And what about Ocon?” 

“Maybe not all the French,” the guy joked and you laughed.  The more the conversation went on, the more relaxed you felt.  The guy in front of you was doing an excellent job of making you laugh, that you began to forget about Jaemin or even attempted to look for him.  You stopped trying to look for anyone, instead just focusing on the guy in front of you.  You were actually having trouble focusing on anything except the guy in front of you.  

It must be the alcohol, you thought.  It was too strong, you must be starting to become a lightweight.  You could’ve sworn you could hold your liquor better than this.  You decided that you were gonna go to the restroom, trying to splash some water on your face to sober up.  You relayed your thoughts to the guy in front of you.  

As soon as you got up from the bar stool, the room started to spin.  “Woah, you okay there?” the guy in front of you asked.  

“Yeah, I just need to get my feet under me,” you slurred your words together.  This most definitely wasn’t just alcohol.  

“Let me help you,” the guy suggested. You tried to push him off, but it felt like his grip was starting to tighten.  You felt him start to push you, not being gentle with his movement.  

When you first got to the club you made a note of where the restroom was, just as an old habit.  In a moment of flight or fight, you found the strength to push him off.  The guy released his grip, and you shoved your way through the crowd to the bathroom.  As soon as you got inside, you found a stall and locked yourself inside.  

You grabbed your phone out from your purse, your mind only drawing one conclusion.  You needed to call Jeno.  You wanted to just close your eyes while you let the phone ring.  You could hear Jeno answer the phone, you began to mumble a few things, trying to tell Jeno what happened.  You hope, and pray that he understands you enough.  

-

“Excuse me, is there a y/n in here?” you heard what sounded like a young woman ask. 

“Here,” you slurred, raising your hand to unlock the bathroom stall.  

The girl offered a sad smile, “your boyfriend Jeno is here to get you, he’s right outside.”  

You nodded your head, as she helped you to your feet.  When you made it out of the restroom, Jeno was right there, waiting for you.  He was still dressed in his sweats, his hair was disheveled, he looked like someone that just got out of bed.  

“Thank you,” Jeno thanked the girl, taking you from her.  Your mind was still a bit foggy, but you had enough sense of understanding what everyone around you was saying.  

Jeno began to lead you out to the front, “did I wake you?  I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry Jeno.  I know I shouldn’t have gone out tonight.”  You were saying, more like mumbling and slurring, the first thoughts that came to your mind, not having enough strength to filter through them. “I promise no more going out, I’ll be a good girl from now on.  I won’t cause you anymore trouble Jeno.”  

Jeno didn’t acknowledge your mumblings, thinking that you guys could talk about it in the morning when you were fully sober.  He just wanted to get you back to the hotel already.  He didn’t want to be here much longer, and he especially didn’t want the media to see either of you guys here, like this.  

Before Jeno could make it out the front doors, from the shadows emerged Jaemin.  “Dude you made it,” Jaemin, who was clearly heavily intoxicated,  caught Jeno’s other arm, not seeing Jeno holding you up on the other side initially.  “y/n is supposed…” 

Jeno turned, stopping Jaemin from saying anything more.  

“What…what happened?” Jaemin asked, as he looked at you, clearly out of it.  The sight of you, causing any effects of the previously consumed alcohol to wear off. 

“I don’t know, you tell me Jaemin, you’re the one that was here not me.” Jeno was fuming, as he was beginning to have a vague understanding of what had happened. 

“Jen, I…” 

“She called me crying and slurring her words, she could barely put two words together, let alone a complete sentence to tell me what she drank, or where she was, or who she was with.” There were stories about how scary Jeno was when he’s mad, but Jaemin always thought that was just people exaggerating to give Jeno a bad boy image.  Jaemin knows now it’s not an exaggeration.  “What did you give her, Jaemin?” 

“Jeno, I swear I didn’t do this to her.” 

“Well if you didn’t do it, you let it happen.”

-

The next morning you woke up with the worst headache of your life.  You were laying in your bed, in your hotel room, you looked over to see Jeno sleeping in one of the chairs with just a jacket covering his arms.  You got out of bed, placing the blanket you were originally wrapped in on him, and heading to the shower.  Last night was still a bit blurry in your mind, you remembered going to the club with Jaemin.  You remembered meeting a stranger there, you remembered running to the bathroom.  

You just don’t remember anything after being in the bathroom.  After you got out of the shower, brushed your teeth, and put on fresh clothes, you still saw Jeno sleeping peacefully on the chair in the corner.  You decided to get some coffee and breakfast for Jeno when he woke up.  You grabbed your phone and wallet before heading downstairs.  

Looking at your phone, you notice several missed calls from Jaemin and even more unread text messages.  Before you could respond to any of them, you ran into Jaemin in the elevator, heading downstairs.  

“I was just coming to see you,” Jaemin said with an air of worry.  

“Why?” you question with a bit of an awkward smile.  

“Are you okay?  Last night…” before Jaemin could say anymore, your phone started to ring.  Jeno’s name appears on the screen.  

“Sorry Jaemin, let me just answer this.” You slide the green button on your screen, answering your phone for Jeno.  “Hello,” you answered. 

“y/n, where are you?” Jeno spoke quickly.  

“I’m heading downstairs, I was gonna bring you a coffee and some breakfast.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me, I would’ve gone with you.” 

“You looked tired, I wanted to let you sleep,” you answered.  Jaemin is only able to hear your side of the conversation, slowly putting the pieces together in his own mind.  Jaemin knows Jeno picked you up from the club, he knows Jeno brought you back to the hotel, and now he knows that you and Jeno slept in the same room last night.  

“Wait in the lobby for me, I’ll come downstairs and we’ll go together.” Jeno said, before hanging up the phone.  

You sighed, “I’m sorry Jaemin, what were you saying earlier now?” you turned your attention back to Jaemin.  

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay from last night, I’m sorry about…” 

“Do you remember what happened last night?” 

“Huh?” Jaemin looked at you confused, he only remembered what he did last night.  He remembers leaving you alone last night, after telling you, you had nothing to worry about.  He remembers Jeno staring holes through his head.  He remembers seeing you leaving with Jeno.  

“I mean,” you sighed, knowing that you should be able to remember, you just couldn’t.  “I know we went to the club together, I know I met a guy at the bar, I remember going to the restroom, but everything else is a blur.  And even the parts I do remember are blurry.”  

Just at that moment, both you and Jaemin arrived on the lobby floor.  Jaemin let you step out of the elevator first.  “We did go to the club together, and I left you, alone.” Jaemin said.  “I’m sorry y/n, I should have never left you alone that night.  I told you that I would stay with you and I didn’t, this is my fault.”  

You nodded your head, “thank you for apologizing.”  You thanked Jaemin, even though you weren’t entirely sure why he was apologizing to you.  

“y/n,” you turned to see Jeno stepping off the other elevator, walking towards you.  You watched Jeno, give Jaemin the dirtiest look, before checking on you.  “You okay?” 

“Yeah of course,” you answered. 

“Let’s go get breakfast,” Jeno said, pulling you away.  You waved a little ‘bye’ to Jaemin, before walking away. 

“That was a bit rude,” you spoke candidly to Jeno, after the two of you stepped away from Jaemin. 

“What?” 

“You didn’t greet Jaemin, that was a bit rude Jeno.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jeno dismissed, as he dropped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer as the two of you walked out the lobby doors.  You looked back to still see Jaemin standing there, watching the two of you go.

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

Taglist: @90sgatsby-jjh@neothingss@lanadreamie@cuteejeno

[mkagent]

THE  OUTLAST  TRIALS,   RED  BARRELS  (PART  ONE)

be  cool,   bitch!   be  cool.

i  know  what  you  are.

my  clumsy  little  darlin’.

lucky  you.   getting  out  of  the  experiment.

i  imagine  hell’s  about  full  of  the  lazy  and  uninspired.

bitch  never  was  right  in  the  head.

my  goggles  are  just  about  to  go  dark.

bitches  and  sons  of  bitches.

i  heard  about  you.   vice  squad  said  you  got  proclivities  would  scandalize  the  whore  of  babylon.

that’s  a  shitty  way  to  treat  a  friend.

let  your  mind  out  of  the  cage.

you  can  die  is  what  you  can  do.

don’t  fuck  with  your  doctor,   pal.

get  your  fucking  head  straight,   mac.

it’s  a  science  market.   the  results  sell  themselves.

enlightenment  is  coming.

of  course  you  want  an  easy  answer,   and  i’m  happy  to  sell  you  whatever  it  is  you  want  to  buy.

you  can’t  get  yourself  all  wrapped  around  the  axle  about  shit  like  facts.   the  story  is  the  thing.

always  the  last  place  you  look.

you  better  run,   little  mouse.

it’s  the  sizzle,   not  the  steak.

come  on  out,   you  commie  shit.

look!   i’m  doing  it!   please.  just  let  me  go.

i  see  you.   you  don’t  scare  me.

that’s  what  they  pay  me  for.

nobody’s  paying  me  for  this  shit.

i’m  trying  to  look  after  you,   pal.   you  gotta  stay  healthy.

every  itch  is  worth  a  scratch.

you  want  to  get  high?

now  don’t  you  wish  you  had  flossed?

not  gonna  be  so  uppity  anymore.

oh,   darlin’,   that’s  just  a  little  speed  bump.

go  on  and  run,   sweetheart.

hey  fucker,   you  hip?

i’m  your  doctor  and  your  lawyer  and  your  priest,   baby.   screw  you  three  different  ways.

the  real  rebellion  is  in  perfect  obedience.

give  me  a  hand  here.

if  there’s  one  thing  i  can’t  fucking  stand  it’s  fucking  sobriety.

you  don’t  decide  to  become  an  addict.

gonna  give  you  the  electric  cure.

wouldn’t  expect  you  could  hog-tie  a  man  with  pain  alone,   would  you?

i’m  only  trying  to  help.

you  got  the  shakes,   baby?

gotta  be  a  battery  around  here  somewhere.

knock  knock.   exterminator.

i’m  gonna  hurt  you.

now  they’re  gonna  hurt  you  bad.

it  ain’t  fact  that’s  got  to  be  punished,   it’s  a  person.   you  gotta  hurt  somebody.

y’all’re  all  equal  under  the  law.

said  maybe  jumper  cables  would  make  you  talkative,   but  how’s  a  son  of  a  bitch  gonna  talk  with  a  clamp  on  his  tongue  and  he  scorched?

not  cool,   my  man.

you’re  harshing  my  fucking  mellow  here.

oh,   baby,   the  things  you’re  gonna  see.

paging  doctor  whatever  the  fuck  i  am.

law  is...   a  sort  of  miracle.   it’s  like  buying  life  insurance  for  something  that  already  happened  and  you  can’t  do  anything  about.

run  if  that’s  what  you  need  to  do.

that  sounds  like  withdrawal.

the  martyrs  go  hand-in-hand  to  the  arena.

have  to  be  special,   don’t  you?

knew  from  birth  i  was  marked  to  die  by  lightning.

you  can  be  a  deviant  or  you  can  die  of  boredom.

fuckin’  magic,   man.   what  will  they  think  of  next?

[ladyrosse]

Cora's plan

Office:

-Robert, you can't just say that you don't agree

-Yes, I can and I say it; I don't agree!

Cora and Mary look at each other trying to stay calm and listen to one of the men in the room trying to reach an agreement:

-It's simple, if the majority partners do not agree, nothing can be done and we will continue with this.

Cora takes the floor by staring at Robert on the other side of the table:

-Is there no way that 75% is divided and thus a result is obtained from this?

-No mom, on other occasions if you have not agreed it does not take place and the same when dad has said no.

-Robert please, understand that the only way to reach the US market is by doing all this.

It gets up and shows the data on the screen

The moment Cora gets up, Robert tries to hide but is delighted with the way he looks today, he told him in the morning and plans to repeat it but he does not know how the atmosphere will be at the end of the meeting.

Mary is talking and he tries to grasp where he is heading when he hears:

-We will be in a meeting all this week because we need to reach a result before Saturday.

-It's okay, but we won't give in

Robert responds by pointing to the 3 men who accompanied them.

-Well, I'm not going to give in either.

Cora's comment is heard with a very serious tone.

Mary's office:

Mary sees how her mother tries to enter in a strange way and as if she were hiding from a person...

-I need you to take your father home today because I can't go with him.

-Mom but...

-No, seriously, please, take it! I don’t want him to take a taxi.

-You should not let what is happening in the office affect your marriage.

He laughs* - Nooo dear remember that tomorrow is his birthday and today I will give him his surprise.

Mary nods and somehow remembers that a week ago her mother had told her and her sisters about this day.

-Edith and Sybil already have almost everything I asked them ready at home, I must go, I have not let your father see me

-Goodbye, Mom

-Ah! And please try not to get so angry.

A snort from Mary and in a murmur it is heard

-That will be the most difficult thing

Minutes later...

-Have you seen your mother?!

I can't believe he left and took the car.

-Dad, please calm down, I'll take you home.

I know that mom had an emergency, something feminine.

-Oh please, if it was something like that I understand it but I don't understand WHY you don't let me know.

-Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you.

After he says it, he realises that it is not the best way to approach it

-Oh! I knew it, since we went out she ignored me, I don't understand why she does that, she is not supposed to interfere in personal life, she is the one who always repeats it.

-Okay, dad, wait, she's not angry, I don't know and I don't think so, she told me she had an emergency and I told her that I could take you. It's okay, besides, I'm going to get the girls because we'll go to dinner and some drinks later.

-Will the three of them come out?

Maybe your mother will join them, she still doesn't want to see me.

-Dad, please, we'd better go out...

Grantham House:

The girls and Cora are finishing organising, while Cora lights the candles, Edith is in charge of leaving the music ready for her so that her mother only has to play her. Sybil on the other hand is accommodating the wine and glasses.

-Mom, the wine is already cold but I still served a glass before cooling it... As you told me.

-Thank you darling, it's just that your father doesn't like cold wine whenever he drinks it, it's for me and I would like him to enjoy.

He shares a smile with his daughters and the sound of a car is heard.

-Oh, I think Dad is already here.

Edith says looking at her mother.

-Better we go out.

Both girls kiss their mother, while Cora is going to put on the dress, It was the only thing he was missing, While she was coming up, she decided to wear a red lipstick and she would be ready for her Robert

Downstairs the girls entertain Robert for a few minutes while they receive Cora's message indicating that they can leave now

-And is his mother there?

-I think she's lying down (Sybil)

-We really saw her when she arrived but she didn't leave the room anymore (Edith)

-Okay, well, we'd better go (Mary)

-Good night, dad (the three girls)

Robert says goodbye to three and reminds them not to return late while preparing to face an annoying or sick wife, he didn't really know what was going on with Cora.

Dinner:

Upon entering his house he perfectly recognises the woman who is by candlelight... His wife looked so beautiful, apparently she wears a dress attached to her body, she was able to see each of her curves in the shade.

In order not to damage the wonderful environment, he decided not to turn on some other light and without thinking just throw a:

-I'm very angry with you...

He doesn't know why but when he sees his wife's smile he also smiles and his previous comment comes out as a joke, Cora goes to him and he hands him his glass of wine

-Happy pre Birthday my love

She decides not to wait and joins the two drinks to start the toast to her husband’s life

-Oh, Cora! What is this?

-Your birthday surprise, just you and me.

He gives him a kiss extremely quickly.

-I thought I would spend tonight in the guest room and look, I can't believe it... Also

It turns it very slowly to contemplate it perfectly

-You are so perfect *kiss* Beautiful *kiss* And sexy…

This time his kiss lasted a little longer but Cora had to stop him.

-Now dear... Your birthday

He plays the list of songs he had chosen with Edith a few days ago and they both started dancing.

-If only we could agree on the company

Robert's comment is almost a whisper in the perfect environment they had created.

-Please, darling, I don't want us to talk about it.

-I just need you not to try to pressure or change my opinion, you know that we can't face those kinds of risks...

-Shhh please seriously, let's have dinner, let's celebrate and if you haven't changed your mind tomorrow I'll have to convince you in another way..,

He looks at it in a pretty flirtatious way

-Maybe that way I can think about it a little better

They share a light but honest laugh, the years they have been married and working together taught him that their working life was outside their marriage and each of the fights they have had in the company stay in the offices. Sometimes they may not have talked when they got home but they were still in the same bed and having dinner together. In addition, his family was always there, needing them, his daughters loved their parents' relationship almost as they loved each other. Cora knew that this decision would take a lot of time and conviction but she was willing to use the powers of a wife to convince Robert, it was difficult to take him on the business side but she was very confident in being able to do it.