#like the only way you can get fucking vet care during the day

[twistedappletree]

i’ve been at the emergency vet for 3hrs and it’s a 1hr drive here and back and it’s 5am now and i’m so fucking tired omfg there’s no way i’m gonna be able to sleep for work today 😭

[alphabetboyluvr]

throttle │ jjk - one

this fic is my baby and has just hit 400k over on wp, so I'm sharing her here too he he

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - jungkook is blonde <3, he's also a bit of an asshole. dangerous driving, alcohol consumption, nothing major, we're setting scenes, building worlds just to ruin them woohoo. mentions of violence, gang dynamics. both the oc and jk swear like sailors.

word count - 17.8k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

The bell above the gas station door always chimes just a little bit louder than is really necessary. 

In fact, the shrill clang of metal is so intrusive, that it feels borderline rude every single time a customer swings the door open. It's only natural for you to ignore it now, affronted by the way it distracts your focus.

It's not like you're ever doing anything important. Just flicking through the day's newspapers or counting stock. 

Although, come to think of it, you're never actually counting stock, either. You leave that job for Jieun, because you know she's a stickler for the rules, and likes feeling accomplished after her shifts are finished.

You're not really sure how much accomplishment can be derived from a part-time job at a GS25 attached to a gas station forecourt, but she seems to enjoy it.

This job really isn't for you - but it's better than following your father into local politics, and nepotism is all you really have going for you, considering you flunked the college entrance exam. An act of rebellion, for the corruption scandal your father had chosen to embroil himself in during your senior year, you had refused to write a single word on the paper. 

You thought it would embarrass him - and it did. Just at your expense.

And so, while it may not be your childhood dream of being a pop star, or a vet, or anything of any significance, ringing up bills at the gas station is how you're able to pay your own bills. It'll do for now.

You ignore the chime of the bell as the door to the service station opens once more. 

It's the start of the year, and the breeze is bitter whenever it rushes in. This time, the wind is accompanied by a guy in his mid-thirties. Dark slacks, burgundy jumper. His off-brand sliders scuff across the floor as he traipses round to the refrigerator, bottle clinking as he picks up a little soju and some beer for his evening. It's not an uncommon occurrence for men his age.

You hypothesise his next move. To the snack section to pick up something for his kids? Maybe straight to the kiosk to pay for his fuel? You check the screen, and notice he's barely added enough gas to cover the minimum charge. 

A scornful mutter of 'priorities' laces your lips, as you see him put back the soju and reach for the whisky instead.

Still, you can't blame him. It's fucking freezing. A little whisky to warm him up will probably be as cost-effective as getting a new boiler that actually works.

It's all just an assumption of course. 

You don't know this man, and you don't have a clue if his boiler works or not - but thinking about the lives of the people you meet for split fractions of time always helps to make your shift go quicker. 

He comes to the counter, pays, and leaves. 

You wonder if he's made up a life for you in his head, too.

Probably not. He probably already has an actual life to distract him from his thoughts. Maybe that's what the whisky is for.

And there you go again; hypothesising. Thinking. Putting your assumptions onto strangers.

The next customer is a girl around your age, wearing a fluffy pink coat and hoops big enough to be worn as bangles. She arrives on foot, pushing the swing door open without much care for excessive force. 

You decide, all rather quickly, that she must work at the gentlemen's club around the corner from the gas station. She's buying a coffee, iced, and nothing else. 

It's when she's at the kiosk that you realise your make-believe life for her is terribly inaccurate. She fumbles with her purse, dropping her staff I.D. card.

She's a nurse. Paediatric nurse, to be specific. The coffee she's picked up isn't for a boost before a shift on the poles, but to keep her going through a night on the wards.

And yet despite how your assumptions are so often so wrong, you still consider yourself to be a good judge of character.

It's a flaw, the way you always seem to think you can read people; think you can look at their demeanour, their clothes, and assume their financial status, what they do after the sun sets, and if they're going home to an empty house or not.

Your thoughts become lore. The gas station you work in is the thick leather cover that protects your make-believe world from outsiders.

When the bell chimes again, you don't look up. 

It's a habit. You don't want to make eye contact. It breaks the illusion that these people are just characters in your head.

Instead, you glance up to the curved mirror in the far corner of the shop. It acts as a second pair of eyes, and is ignored by pretty much all of the customers - except for the teenage girls who like to take selfies in it.

Tall, you assess when you finally find the new customer in the mirror. Broad. 

His posture a little sloped, but all things considered, he carries himself well. He heads for the refrigerators, just like every man above the age of 19 seems to do on a Friday night. There's that clink again, and you guess he's going for soju. He's young, so it seems apt. Whatever's cheapest seems to be the drink of choice for the guys your age, and you can't blame them.

You watch, cautious to not catch his gaze, as he heads to the food fridge. 

Gimbap, you guess. Tuna, not chicken. One roll, not two. 

He pulls out his phone to check a notification, and you notice just how hard his gaze is. There's a ridge between his brows, and a couple silver ballbearings accenting the brow farthest from you. Whatever he's reading on his phone, he doesn't like.

Girlfriend, you guess again. No. An ex. No, no. A FWB turned far-too-clingy. 

He looks like the type to be after something a little casual. 

The tattoos on his hands are nothing special - you've seen hands like his in countless 'sneaky' Instagram stories; a hand on the thigh, holding a bag. Y'know, the ones. The kind of shit girls post with the caption 'private, not secret' - but you both know there's nothing really 'private' about it. The owner of the hands will be blocked within a week or two, once the girl realises he's nothing special, just like his hands.

You hear him mutter beneath his breath. You can't quite make it out, but the way he shakes his head lets you know that it was most likely a curse. He locks his phone, tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans, and carries on looking for something to eat. 

You watch as his gaze lifts and falls.

That's it, you urge silently. Go for the gimbap.

You want to be proven right. 

He's already got a green bottle tucked into the pocket of his black bomber jacket, so you know you've got his choice of drink correct. You're assuming that your guess about his phone is correct, too, so you only need one more right to get a full house.

As he looks across the snacks - gimbap, vacuum-sealed meats, cheese, strawberry sandwiches and enough microwavable food to feed an orphanage - he pushes his hair out of his face. The way it falls back down almost instantly makes you smile. 

He needs a haircut - but you bet that his FWB (turned far-too-clingy lover) loves it, so he keeps it long for her satisfaction. It's bleached; pale as the sticky rice balls he's eyeing up, with dark roots that let you know he's trouble. No boy with hair like that has ever been good news. Especially not the ones who look like him.

Or so you guess look like him. He's wearing a mask. It's black, to match his outfit, cinched at the nose, hooked around ears that are studded up the sides. He must have, what? Five? Six? Little square studs in there. Airport security must be a nightmare.

You smile to yourself as he reaches for gimbap. One roll, not two. Tuna, not chicken. Bingo.

"Pump six," he says as he approaches the counter. You already know. It's been waiting on the screen since he walked in. There's no one else in the forecourt. "And these."

He tosses down the gimbap, and pulls the soju from his pocket, an old receipt coming with it. Kang's Auto Repairs it reads, but he stuffs it back into his pocket before you can read anything else.

"We're cheaper," you note, not really caring for revealing just how incredibly nosey you are. There's a perspex screen between you, which always makes you feel protected - from people, their judgements and whatever other airborne diseases they might be carrying. From the looks of him, the only diseases he'll be carrying are the ones found beneath the sheets. He's too well-built to be suffering from any ailments - but equally, too well built to not to be fucking about. "Cheaper than Kang's, I mean. He'll charge you an arm and a leg for the honour of his service."

"Hmm?" He raises a brow, obviously just wanting to pay for his shit and go. "Thanks, but I like Kang's. Been going there for years."

You hold back a laugh. He's no older than you. 24? 25? Yet he's talking like he's been loyal to that over-priced, under-qualified garage for decades. The neighbourhood is littered with garages, scrap part dealers and gas stations, and yet Kang's is the main competitor for your place. It's not even in this neighbourhood - it's across the river, which is a different district entirely, but the proximity is close enough. Your boss will never miss an opportunity to shit talk Old Man Kang and his 'con-artist' car mechanics. He doesn't think any of them are actually trained.

"Yeah, well," you smile, scanning his items, pretending there's a fault with the barcode on his gimbap just to be a little annoying. "Our guy, Yoongi, he's a specialist with those." You nod out of the window and towards the car by pump six. It's red; a little bit brash, but a classic. "Pony, right? Hyundai? '80?"

"Pony," he nods, tone neutral but eyes a little narrow. Doesn't know why, but he didn't expect you to know - and then he remembers you work at a garage. Of course you know. Got the year wrong, though."It's an '83. A mark two. I'll keep the suggestion in mind," he adds, though you both know he's lying. "How much do I owe you?"

He doesn't really listen as you list off the figure. Just hands you his card, hums when you ask for his signature - sign of a big spender, must be a full tank - and says little else. His phone buzzes on the counter as he stuffs his purchases back into his pockets, and you glance down - again, not caring for the discretion of your nosey tendencies.

KNJ. (1)   New Message.

Sneaky bastard, you think. How rude of him not to have his message previews displayed.

You're not sure if he caught you looking, but he snaps his phone up regardless and shoves it into his back pocket.

"Cheers," he nods, before he sets off into the night. Car unlocked, he slides into the driver's seat and empties his pockets onto the passengers' side. You watch on for a moment, before there's a rattle of his exhaust pipe, engine roaring into action - and like that, he's gone. You assume he's not on his way to his FWB (turned far-too-clingy lover). Wouldn't have bought tuna if he was. Then again, he's a guy. You don't expect him to care about such social cues.

Maybe he's just left hers. His neck did seem a little red, but then again, it's cold. Minus 3. The river you walk across to get to work is frozen over, and has been for about two weeks now. You've got a heat pack stuffed in either pocket of your work jacket. 

Well, Yoongi's work jacket. It's his name stitched into the breast pocket - but it's bigger than yours, so you can fit a few more layers beneath it. If the boss saw you in it, he'd have a bitch fit for 'not following company protocols,' and for not caring about the 'company brand image'. Which is true. You're neither following protocols, nor do you care about the company nor its brand image. 

It's just gone nine on a Friday night, though, and the boss clocked out a few hours ago with a bottle of makgeolli and the day's newspaper under his arm. He's not gonna see. And if he does, what's he gonna do? Fire you? Good luck to him finding anyone else who wants to spend their winter nights freezing half-to-death in this shit hole of a gas station.

By the time midnight hits, you've been yawning for at least an hour. Keeping yourself warm is a laboursome task.

"You're gonna catch a cold," Yoongi acknowledges as he enters the shop through the back entrance. He's still wrapped up in a calf-length puffa jacket, all warm and cosy. He heads out past the kiosks as normal, up to the fridges. Bagged americano and a cup of ice. You know his score - and you're proven right. "Tell me why I agreed to cover your night shift, again?" he says with a slight shiver as he scans through his own items.

Though he's typically out fixing up cars behind the service station, he helps you out at the kiosk too. Normally just when there are staff shortages - which in all fairness, occur more frequently than you'd expect.

"'Cause you love me," you sing, knowing that it's entirely plausible. 

Yoongi - stone-cold, stoic, as emotionally inept as you'd expect a bachelor verging on his 30s to be - could very much be in love with you. It's not like he really speaks to many other women, and he's never given you a reason to believe he's not interested. 

But he does give you his jacket, cuts you slack on the days you feel like shit, and covers the shifts you don't want to work without asking any questions. Sometimes he sneaks you the food that was meant to be tossed in the bin overnight, and other times he makes sure there's a peach tea waiting for you when you clock in.

"It's 'cause I love money," he corrects, as if the extra 30,000 won he'll make from the last three hours of your shift is really an incentive. He's already spent 3,000 on his coffee. "Now scram. Get yourself home. Fucking freezing tonight. Want me to call you a cab?"

That'll be an extra 7,000 to his evenings' expenses. You really don't think he does love the money. At least not enough for it to be a reasonable excuse.

"It's good," you shake your head. "You know I'm not far away."

He nods, not really fighting your choices. It's not like you ever accept his offer anyway. He learned quite a long time ago that if you want something done, you'll do it for yourself.

Y'see, you're not the only one who watches.

Yoongi watches you too, as you tap through on the screen to log yourself out and cash up the till. 

You've only run 260,000 through your till in the last four hours, barely enough to make ends meet for the gas station. No wonder the place hasn't had any upgrades - with the exception of tills and a new fridge every now and again - since the mid-noughties. The signs are rusting, and Yoongi still has to change the fuel prices by hand every morning.

On the rare shifts you work together, you like to make assumptions together. You guess what people are gonna buy, hypothesise where they're going, who they're going with. When you hear bottles clink, you guess which flavour soju they're going for, as if you don't only have 4 flavours stocked. During the summer, you like to guess who's filling up their tanks to go to the coast.

The door chimes as a new customer walks in, and Yoongi knocks his head back. "Go on, out. I'll cash your till up. It's all good."

You ask if he's sure, to which he smiles and tells you to leave again - so you do. Not without thanking him, and fluttering your lashes a little. Maybe it is your fault, just a little, that Yoongi might be a tiny bit in love with you. 

"I owe you the world!" You squeal as you skip out the door. He laughs, but says nothing. He just wants you home and safe as quickly as possible.

Yoongi doesn't mind covering your shifts, not this late at night. He knows this area doesn't have the best reputation, and despite your sharp tongue, he knows that you'd stand absolutely no chance if someone decided that it seemed like a good place to commit a felony or two. 

It's a debate you've had a few times before. You know he's right, but you fight against him regardless. It always makes him smile, and only adds to your theory that he might be a little bit in love with you.

You forget the quiet thrum in your chest as soon as the cold air hits you. Yoongi traded his jacket with you before you left; him now in his work uniform, and you in his thick puffa which reaches down to your ankles. Hands stuffed into his pockets, your shoulders hunch as you walk, a mask covering your face just to keep the heat in. Your scarf is wrapped around you so tightly that you might just suffocate, but it would be worth it, you think. You hate this time of year. So fucking cold, and for what?

The bridge lights are off by the time you reach it, illuminated only by a couple of cars. They're sat up towards the far end, facing you, and you sigh. Every fucking weekend.

It's not always the same cars, but quite often it is - or some variation of the same group, at least. They sit, waiting for traffic to die down and the lights to cut off, before turning the bridge into their own little speedway.

You should have guessed from the sound of that asshole's exhaust earlier that evening that he'd be one of them. 

The fact he goes to Kang's, too. 

It's obvious, when you think about it now. 

Guys his age never fill up their tanks - but he did. Filled it up just to spit it all out again, painting the road in iridescent speckles of gas.

You can see the Pony. It's the car farthest away from you, next to a black SsangYong. 

You can't make out the model of the SsangYong, but it looks fast. It's lowered, windows tinted, exhaust tampered with, just to create an almighty roar - which screams 'I have a tiny cock'. 

At least with the Pony, you can tell that the sound being delivered comes from his engine. Credit where it's due, and all that. He could still very much have a tiny cock, but at least he's better at hiding it.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you hug into yourself to preserve heat. The lights of the cars make you a little self-conscious, aware that you're the only thing in sight that's disturbing their peace. There's ice on the road, but you pay it no notice, knowing that there's no point in worrying about one of the cars swerving off-road as they inevitably shoot past you. 

If it happens, it happens.

The SsangYong is loud. Obnoxiously, so. You can hear pressure being put down and released on the gas pedal, clutch raised. He's teasing you. Warning you. Hurry up. 

Next to it, the Pony hums. He doesn't seem interested in taunting you as if you could fight a two-tonne vehicle as it hurtles towards you. That, or he doesn't want to waste his gas. Lord knows he'll be wasting enough of it tonight as it is.

"Try me, fucker," you mumble under your breath, eyes trained on the black car. You can't make out its driver, nor do you really care. 

It's at this point you notice a guy on the opposite side of the road. 

He flashes the torch of his phone, once, twice. The Pony kicks into gear now, too, revving to rival the SsangYong. You're halfway across the bridge, wishing they could have just waited, like, one more minute. But whatever. Assholes will be assholes.

The torch guy is out of your line of vision by the time you hear tyres screech against the ice-cold road, rubber-burning regardless. The Ssangyong bolts, fumes from the exhaust fogging in the air behind it. You expect the Pony to do the same.

It takes you half a second to realise it's stagnated, and another half to realise that things aren't going to plan for Mr Gimbap.

There's a thud from the back wheels as they lock and release, causing the wheels to spin out. You've seen enough wheel spins now to know one, and as the Pony lurches forward, you know that's exactly what it is - but you also know the road is icy. 

The fun of a wheel spin, or so Yoongi likes to tell you, is that brief moment of lost control. He likes to do it whenever he gives you a lift home, because he finds the way you freak out funny - but he's always in command of his vehicle. He's never done it with you in the car during the winter. He knows better. Doesn't actually want to lose control.

At least, not like the dude in the driver's seat of the Pony currently is. 

The back kicks out, sending him swerving. The front wheels are a fucking mess, his hands twisting the wheel in an attempt to rectify his fuck up. It's fruitless. He's off the clutch, the wheels aren't spinning, but he's already on the ice, and he's hurtling towards you.

You're aware you should run, but like the river, you're stuck. Frozen in place. 

Maybe you should have accepted Yoongi's offer of a taxi. RIP.

There's another biting screech as you're doused in headlights, and you're pretty sure that this is what people mean when they say you see the light before you die. Fucking blinding. No way those lamps are regulation approved.

It's as you're bracing yourself for the inevitable end (and thinking about how embarrassing it's going to be when your family is tasked with clearing out your apartment after your demise - you haven't cleaned for weeks, laundry has been sat in the washer for two days, and there's a pizza box that you don't dare look in sitting next to the bin) that miracle seems to strike.

The Pony hits an uniced patch just in time for the driver to slam on his breaks. Handbrake, by the sound of it, but you're not sure. Not really sure of anything. Your heart is beating in your throat.

Steam is coming from the heat of the tyres, but the air around you is frozen, and so are you. You're not sure if it's from the cold or from the shock. A bit of both probably. You don't shake out of it until the driver's door pops open.

"The fuck are you doing?" He shouts. His mask is off now, not like it had been in the store. Light glimmers off yet more metal stuck in face, this time a ring around his plump bottom lip. His nose, though well proportioned, is blushed. "I could have fucking hit you!"

"Uh, yeah?" You almost laugh, too stunned to compute the fact that he was shouting at you. "Yeah, you could have fucking hit me, you asshole-"

"The fuck are you doing on the bridge? This late? Wearing all fucking black? I know you work around here, so I know you know what this place is used for-"

"Yeah, it's a bridge," you deadpan. It's notorious for racing, but who cares? It's not like you're in the wrong here. He's the one breaking laws. You're just trying to go home. "It's used to cross rivers. So, yanno, people working night shifts can walk home without rowing a fucking boat. Pretty neat actually, invented by the Greeks."

"Don't be smart," he scolds. "You saw us gearing up, you knew what was about to ha-"

"I'm sorry," you really are laughing now. "Are you telling me that I'm in the wrong? You? The asshole who's racing his shitty car on an icy fucking bridge? The asshole who can't control his aforementioned shitty car-"

"Can control it," he snaps. "If I couldn't, you'd be fucking dead."

"Oh, well thank you very much! How kind of you to not kill me as a result of your reckless driving. No, really. I appreciate it so much. How ever can I repay you?"

"You know what?" He calls after you when you begin to walk away. As far as you're concerned, the conversion is done. "Next time, I will just hit you."

"Be my fucking guest!" You shout back, holding your middle finger up to wave goodbye. "Stick to Kang's next time, you pretentious, self-absorbed cunt."

"Gladly."

"Oh, and by the way," you begin to say in a sickly sweet tone, which you just know is going to piss him off. You turn to find him standing, facing the bridge wall, looking at the river that's illuminated only by the headlamps of his car, like two little moons. The real one is hidden by clouds. "You'll have better control if you release the clutch a little slower. Wheelspin like that? Yeah, someone needs to practise their clutch control."

He looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he just flares his nostrils and grates his jaw. He knows you're right. Knows he missed the mark - but he'd been distracted when he noticed you on the bridge. You threw him off his game.

Equally, you know he's a good driver. The way he gained control of his car on the ice was borderline expert. Impressive. You won't go as far to say life-saving, because if it wasn't for his driving in the first place, your life wouldn't have needed any God Damn saving.

You walk backwards for a step or two, just to gloat in the knowledge you've gotten the last word. He glares at you, but stays silent. Victory.

"Oi, Kook. The fuck was that about?" A distant voice yells. The SsangYong driver, you assume.

"Nothin'," he yells back. His eyes are still on you, watching as you hunch a little, folding your arms over your chest. You must be freezing, he thinks. Stupid, too. The area is littered with taxis on Friday nights. Why anyone would choose to walk is beyond him. He casts you one final stare, his chest heaving from the adrenaline, before he turns away from you. "Stupid bitch almost got herself killed. Starting line. Let's go again."

────────────

You don't mention your near-death experience to Yoongi when you see him at work the following Monday. You know he'll just worry, and then he'll really start insisting on ordering cabs for you.

Worse yet, you think he might just order them to arrive when your shift finishes, and then you'll have to take them. No point in making mountains out of molehills.

Customers are always steady on Mondays; people fuelling up for the working week, replenishing stocks wasted on the weekends.

By the time it hits four, school kids are piling in. They're picking up snacks, something to fuel them between mandatory classes and the additional ones they've picked up at hagwons. Poor suckers, you always think.

It's been years since you did the same grind, and you still don't fully understand just why you worked yourself to the bone, only to end up working in a fucking service station. 

It had never been the dream. Still isn't - but it beats being hired on account of nepotism, thanks to a father with an unlawful influence in the city. 

Your family name - which you don't go by, these days - is on the side of buildings, in the list of hospital beneficiaries, even on the local soccer team's fucking shirts. You're cursed with it; no identity of your own. Even when did try to get a job without the backing of your family, people still knew. Your face has been at God knows how many press junkets, playing the role of the Mayor's darling daughter.

All bullshit, of course.

Your father is just as good at saving face as he is at making investments. Turns out there really is nothing money can't buy; support for a mayoral campaign, the silence of a nanny - of whom he started fucking when you were still in middle school - and enough pearls to keep your mother happy after she found out.

Cars, houses, material goods? You'd wanted for nothing as a kid.

Privilege. It's a funny little thing. You had the world, and yet none of it was yours. Not really. And so, as soon as you were of legal age, you were out of the family home, trying to find some concrete meaning for your life.

All you'd found so far was the harrowing knowledge that your father's mayoral tenure had been hell for those without the privileges you'd been raised with, and therefore you'd distanced yourself so far from your family that you weren't even sure they'd recognise you, anymore.

"You good?" Yoongi asks, around about the time the clock hits five. He's by the back entrance, wiping his oil-covered hands on an old rag. "Just finishing up."

"Good," you nod in response to his question. You give him a fond smile to let him know that the perplexed expression he'd caught on your face was nothing to be worried about, and then you ask him his plans for the evening.

There are only a few more hours left on the clock for you. It's a mid-shift, someone else coming in to work the night rotation. You've never liked these shifts - the highest influx of customers, but by far the least interesting interactions.

They come and go so quickly that it's hard to make up a fake life for them, before they're replaced by the next sullen face, wanting to get in and out as quickly as possible.

"Gimmie a call if you need a lift," Yoongi calls over as he gets his jacket to leave. Off comes his work one, tossed over to you, replaced with the black puffa you returned that morning.

"Will do," you nod - and you both know you're lying. Still, he's a gentleman through and through. Wouldn't have felt right if he didn't at least offer. The bell on the entryway door chimes, but you don't look over to see the customer, choosing to smile at your friend instead. "Catch ya later, Yoongs."

"Yeah, you too," he smiles back, zipping up his coat and pulling up his mask. He's walking home, too, but it's still light. It will be dark by the time nine hits, and even though he doesn't know about last Friday night, he still doesn't like the idea of you walking home alone.

You hear the clink of glasses by the fridge, but the view is obscured by an obnoxious advertising standee your boss has insisted you put up inside the store. You tried telling him that the whole point was to draw customers in, not block them from even entering, but he was having none of it. Doesn't trust the kids in the neighbourhood not to nick it.

There's a crunch as the lid of the chest freezer is slid open, a cup of ice rattling as it's pulled from the stack. You only filled it up half an hour ago. 

Annoying. And who the fuck is drinking an iced drink on a day like today? You think, as if Yoongi doesn't reach for an iced americano before each and every shift. You're just as bad. Your peach tea habit is becoming an issue.

You glance to the forecourt to check which pump to ring through - and that's when you see it. 

Sat in bay six, as proud as the paint is bright, is that stupid fucking Pony again. With a small scoff, you pull up the balance - just over 30,000. Half a tank. Already.

Hardly a surprise, with the way he had been ragging it about on Friday evening. Must be a common occurrence.

As he comes into your line of vision, you busy yourself. 

Turning your back to the kiosk, you're arranging cigarettes that don't need to be arranged, purely so that you don't have to look at him. The bottom of his soju bottle clinks against the counter, the ice and a coffee bag following suit. You still don't turn around, instead opting to look through the 'how-to' manual for the lottery machine, just to really reinforce the fact that serving him is the last thing you want to do.

Had you not told him to stick to Kang's?

"Ahem," he coughs.

You pause mid-page turn and look vacantly into the distance for a moment, before facing him with a smile so insincere it's almost comical.

"Sorry, didn't see you there."

He nods, but doesn't say anything further. He's in all black again, this time with a sweater beneath his bomber. Air quality is still bad, thanks to the cold temperatures and lack of rain to clear the skies, so he's wearing a mask again, but it's perched beneath his jaw. His poker face holds up well.

You ring up his total, ignoring the fact he's chosen to go for a peach tea, not coffee like you'd assumed, and ask if he wants a receipt. He declines, and heads on his way, scooping up his soju bottle, leaving the peach tea.

"Oi," you call after him, but he ignores you."Oi."

Still, nothing. He pushes the door open with his knuckles that are wrapped tightly around the neck of his bottle, not paying you any attention. He's just being a dick at this point. You know he can hear you.

"Oi," you shout again, sliding out from behind the kiosk and following him to the door. You don't grab his drink - he can go back and pick it up himself, the asshole. 

"Kook," you shout, remembering the name the SsangYong driver had called him by.

He stops now.

"Oh," he turns, lips pursed, before throwing your words right back at you. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

Neither of you say anything. It's fucking freezing, and you can see your breath as you huddle yourself together. His eyes are soft, expression gentle, to suggest he's only teasing, but you can't work him out.

"You left your drink."

He shakes his head. Holds up his soju. "No, I didn't. That's yours. You like them, right? It's what you were drinking the other day?"

You narrow your eyes, only for him to raise his brows. You aren't the only nosey one, doll.

"Bit weird," you tell him.

Retrospectively, he thinks you're probably right. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He hadn't intended for it to be so strange - he just isn't great at admitting when he's in the wrong, so a peace offering is a far more tempting solution.

He digs a hand into his pocket, almost as if he's searching for the remains of his dignity, but simply shrugs. "I know I was a bit of a prick."

Acknowledgements of flaws are always welcome by you, but you really don't fancy just forgiving and forgetting. As stupid as it all seems, it was a life or death situation. A peach fucking tea wouldn't have resurrected you or uncrushed your bones.

"Yeah," you nod, biting down on your lip, a little unsure of how to handle the situation. "You were. And not just 'a bit' of a prick. Massive prick, actually."

He repeats your correction, and adds, "You just took me by surprise. I panicked. I'm not usually that..."

"Unreasonable? Arsey? Unable to control your clutch?"

"All of the above," he smiles, and you notice that he has dimples. Asshole. "Look, I won't bother you again. It just wasn't sitting right with me, the way I behaved. My mother would have been rolling in her grave if she heard me speak to a girl like that, especially so late at night. It was a dick move... and so," he inhales, looking at the ground before briefly meeting your eyes again. They're round and wide, almost as if he's incapable of telling lies. "I'm sorry."

There's silence for a moment, and then there's the flash of headlights as a second car rolls into the forecourt. You both turn to check the car, but it's just a standard family saloon. Nothing worth checking out, but it's enough to end the conversation.

"Stick to Kang's," you simply say as he pops open the door to his car. "I appreciate the sentiment, though. Was sweet."

He nods, fully intending on sticking to Kang's. He just needed to do this before he could move on from things. 

Or at least, that's the assumption that you make as he drives away. 

You wait for a little while, ignoring the man clicking the gas nozzle into the side of his car, just watching the now empty road where the small red car had sped off from. You wonder where he's going, but determine he's most likely going to that FWB you've decided he has.

Turning on your heels slowly, you let your body weight fall into the swing door, pushing it open with your shoulder. The bell jingles, like always, and for some reason, it kind of feels like the sound has settled in your stomach. It's all jittery and annoying, and you don't quite understand it. You definitely don't like it, whatever this feeling is.

It's the same feeling that washes over you next Thursday afternoon, when the bell chimes and you glance out the window, only to see a red Hyundai fucking Pony sat in bay six.

He begins to make a habit of it. Neither of you really address it. He just keeps showing up, filling his tank up, and buying whatever tickles his fancy from the snack fridge. It's nearly always gimbap. Occasionally he'll pick up something a little more substantial, and it's always accompanied with soju on Friday nights.

It takes about three weeks for you to be able to distinguish the way in which he opens the shop door. The bell chimes a little slower than normal, his casually cool demeanour preventing him from using too much force to open it. It will always 'ding' for just a bit longer than when other people push open the door. Doesn't matter where you are in the shop, what time it is. You always know when it's him.

It's a Saturday when you hear the unmistakable sound of him again, 4 weeks since that first time.

You can't see him, thanks to the standee that is still obstructing your view, but you can hear the fridges. One, two, bottles of soju. There's another clang. Three? Unusual. It's when he heads to the snack fridge that you realise you're off your game.

He's holding beers - four of them. Making the most of the four for 10,000 deal, you muse. The bottles are green, so you assume Terra, but there are some foreign imports in the fridge, too. You kind of stop guessing at this point, too busy watching. His hair is messy, like aways, and the flannel shirt he's wearing is in need of an iron, but you have to admit - there's a certain charm about him.

Your eyes flick to the door to check that nobody else has entered, and are proven correct - so why does your stomach still feel like that bloody bell chiming?

"Am I good to leave these here?" He asks, drawing your attention back to him. He's already putting the beers down on the counter, so it's not really like you can say no. "Haven't filled up yet, just wanted to check that you had what I was after, first."

"Beers?" You laugh almost immediately. "It's a GS25, dude. Course we have beers."

"Right," he nods, scrunching his nose up a little as he smiles. It was a stupid excuse, and he knew it. Part of you thinks he actually looks a little bashful. It's sweet. Confusing - but sweet, nonetheless. "I'll just go fill up."

"Uh-huh," you nod, when he doesn't leave immediately, almost as if he's waiting for permission. He laughs, and so do you. It's awkward, and you don't know why but you find yourself dropping his gaze. "Just go fill up your car."

"Yeah, yeah," he says. "Fill up. Right."

You move his bottles to the side just in case of another customer, and set about making yourself look busy, but you're a simple being. It's hard to do anything other than wistfully stare when a boy that pretty is stood in your forecourt. 

He pays you no notice as he unscrews his gas cap and positions the nozzle against the opening of his car.

There's a casual nature to his posture, leaning back ever so slightly as he slides the length of the nozzle into his car, displaying just how in tune he is with doing such a menial task. It's second nature at this point.

He watches the nozzle, then lifts his gaze above the car and out towards the road. His eyes are hard, focused almost, that little line forming between his brows again. Almost like he's looking for something.

There's a click as his gas reaches its limit, and he withdraws the nozzle slightly, letting the excess drip into the tank. He knocks it once, twice, against the entrance to be sure that he's emptied it of every last drop, before he slides it out and hooks it back into its holder.

You finally avert your eyes as he screws the cap back into place, your fingers working nimbly to bring up his total on the screen.

There's that ringing feeling again when you notice he's barely reached the minimum spend, yet you could hear the tell-tale sign of a full tank from the forecourt. He hadn't needed gas at all.

He could have just gotten a few bottles of beer from any of the convenience stores in the area - and yet for some reason, he made his excuse to come to you.

The silage of his aftershave lingers by the kiosk, and you remind yourself that he's probably off to see a girl you've made up in your head. The beers are probably to be drunk with her. The flannel shirt is still creased because what's the point in ironing something that will just end up on the floor, anyway?

It's these thoughts that have you acting a little frosty again when he returns. You ring up his total, instruct him to put his card in the machine, as if he doesn't know what he's doing, and then you offer him a receipt.

He's a little confused by the fact you're as cold as the air outside.

Had your interactions not developed past the point of a typical cashier-customer relationship? Maybe he'd read the situation a little wrong.

"Kang's have beer," he finally adds, accepting his receipt, studying it, just to see if it has your name listed under the cashier ID. It does. He takes his time to fold it up, instead of just stuffing it into his back pocket. He's biding time. Making more for himself. "But I'm a bit of a liar," he says, ending his statement with your name. The way he says it, hanging onto the last syllable, taking claim of your identity as his gaze meets your eyes, has that stupid ringing feeling back in your stomach. "I'm not here for beers."

"No?" you ask, almost nonchalant. You're divided by a perspex screen, and you've never been more thankful. It's cutting the tension for you.

"No," he shakes his head. He's about to speak, when the bell of the door goes again - for real, this time. Not just in your stomach. 

He steps aside to let the customer pay for their gas. It's a simple transaction, no added extras like Flannel Boy always has.

He stands awkwardly, toying at the bagged sweets with his ring adorned fingers. You decide that even if your assumptions about him are wrong, there's one that must be right: he knows he's hot.

The way he turns and smirks after the customer leaves, and says, "where were we?", only confirms this.

"You were saying how you weren't here for beer," you remind him, not that he actually needs it.

The perspex screen feels like a thick brick wall. You're simultaneously thankful for and annoyed by it.

"Ah, that's right," he nods. "You were saying how you're going to call in sick tomorrow night and meet me downtown."

"I'm gonna do what now?" You laugh, caught off guard by his boldness. He's smooth, you'll give him that much.

"You're gonna meet me downtown," he says simply, before adding, "Jungangno underground, exit two. The one near CGV. I can draw you a map-"

"Shut up," you laugh, blissfully ignoring the fact he's flirting with you. "I know Jungangno."

"So you'll meet me there?"

"I didn't say that."

He begins to gather up his beers, two in either hand, a smile etched on his cheeks. "So I'll see you tomorrow, at, hmm, say, 8?"

"No," you laugh.

"Yes," he grins back, walking away so that you don't have even more opportunities to reject his advances.

"No, you won't."

You sound so full of conviction when you say it. Determined. Self-assured.

Idiot.

────────────

You tell yourself that you're not going to go.

You told Mr Gimbap that, too, before he left the gas station, not that he was listening.

You tell yourself it again when you're thinking about what you could wear, and then you repeat it like an oath when you're texting Yoongi to see if he can cover your shift.

It's not like you're actually going to go.

You just want to check out your options.

And yet, somehow, you find yourself sitting on a bench outside a shitty burger chain at seven-fifty-six the next evening.

You're dressed casually, in a pair of jeans and a slouchy sweater which is a few sizes too big, but you think it looks cute. It's covered by a thick puffa jacket, regardless - cropped to your hips, unlike Yoongi's mammoth calf-length one.

He told you he'd be happy to cover your shift tonight when you asked, but you still feel a little guilty.

Mainly because when he asked why, you panicked and lied, telling him it was a friend's birthday. 

You then also told yourself that you're definitely going to hell - but it's not like that's news to you. 

It's still freezing, and you're thankful that you changed out of your converse and into a pair of boots before you left your apartment. Your hair is clipped up, make up the same as it normally is, just with a little more mascara than normal. You don't want to make it look like you've actually made an effort - but you definitely have.

You're about a mile and a half from work, but you can feel that bloody door chime in your stomach, again.

Should you walk away, a little? You don't want him to see you waiting.

Appearing too keen is the least of your desires. 

Desperation isn't a good look for anyone. If anything, he should be the one waiting for you. Kind of rude that he isn't, actually. So you get up, and pace around a little, before thinking fuck it. 

You hop on the elevator and head down into Jungangno underground mall, painfully aware of your stomach doing that stupid ringing thing again. Maybe it's vertigo. From, like, the change in altitude, or some shit like that. You're almost able to convince yourself that it's plausible. Almost. 

The shops in the underground mall are a welcome distraction. Ajummas stand in dated clothing stores, offering low-quality clothes for even lower prices. It's crowded, and stuffy, but you're enjoying the distraction. You head for your favourite jewellery place, an emporium filled floor to ceiling with what must be thousands of jewellery pieces, and fumble through the racks of earrings. 

You aren't wearing any, and remember that he - Kook, though you're not entirely sure that's actually his name - wore enough to open up his own jewellery store. You settle on a simple pair, just a couple silver hoops. It's a subtle difference, but one that makes you feel a little more confident. A little more willing to awkwardly say hello, and go on a date (if you can call it that) with a guy you barely know.

Pulling your phone out, you check the time. Seven past eight. Do-able. A little late, but not so late that it's rude. You head up the stairs, and are greeted with almost the exact same scene you had left ten minutes earlier. 

Perhaps he's just running late. It's not embarrassing to be the first one waiting, not now that it's gone past the meeting time, but you can feel that ringing in your stomach begin to grate against your insides. 

It hits eight-fifteen, and you're feeling anxious. Embarrassed. Even if he does show up now, it's obvious that you've been waiting there like a tragic, desperate excuse of a woman. 

Five more minutes, you tell yourself. 

But five turns into ten, and then another fifteen, and then it's nearly nine. 

You pull out your phone and are barely able to type, thanks to how bloody cold it is.

How long until lateness turns into being stood up?

Opinions vary, but everyone on the little online forum you're reading seems to be of agreement that 45 minutes is the cut off point. 45 cold, lonely, mortifying minutes. 

You imagine he's watching you, laughing from the warmth of a cafe, with that friends-with-benefits girl you've convinced yourself is definitely real. 

God, you must look like a twat. You've been sat here for so fucking long. Your hands are numb, arse too, and you know you're gonna wake up with a cold - but none of these compare to your hurt pride. Not by a country mile.

With a sigh, you stand, admitting defeat. Being a jerk, you could get over. But this? Deliberately being cruel? You're proven right, after all. The guy is an asshole.

You hop on the 503 out of the downtown area and back towards home. The ride is lonely, city lights reflecting in your eyes as you gaze out the window and wonder at which point your life became this bleak. You work at a gas station, and got stood up by a guy who drives a fucking Pony. Mortifying.

The ding of the bus as it rolls into its stops reminds you of the chime of the gas station door - so you stay on for a few extra stops past your apartment building. 

You're gentle as you press the red button to let the driver know you'd like to get off, but there's a little more traffic than normal, so he lets you off ahead of schedule. Odd. The roads are never normally blocked, not at this time of night. 

You're only a couple hundred steps away from the bridge, but you notice the red and blue flashing lights across it almost instantly. 

Your heart sinks to your stomach, right into the pit where the chime has been grating your insides apart. Still, you keep on walking. It's only the road that's blocked. Not the path. One foot in front of the next, you keep going, until your pace begins to increase. You can see the police cars now, and where they're parked. 

Fuck the kid you barely know, fuck feeling sorry for yourself. 

All you can think about is Yoongi. 

There are four cars sitting outside your place of work, and you can hear an ambulance blast its sirens away from the gas station in an attempt to get through the crowd. 

You're gonna be sick. You can feel it - or is that just the chime resting too far up in your oesophagus, now? You ignore it though, and begin to run, faster, faster, faster, boots clicking against the pavement as you draw closer to the gas station. Your boss is there, locked in conversation with a police officer, but Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

A cop notices you approach, grabbing onto you as you attempt to run past the tape and into the store.

"Woah, woah, woah. Calm down, little lady-"

"Where is he?" You panic, not even caring to offended by the officers choice in tone. "Min Yoongi. The guy who was working. Yoongi, where is he?"

"Who are you?" The officer counters, and you want to scream.

"Where is he?!" You struggle against his grip, kicking out, but the officer is firm. He's trained to handle situations like this; girls like you. The little but fierce. The kind of girls Shakespeare wrote about. "Where the fuck is he?"

From across the forecourt, your boss calls over. "She's one of mine. Was meant to be working this shift. Did a last minute switch with Min Yoongi."

The officer nods, understanding the situation, but not easing his grip. "In that case, I'm gonna need you to come with me to the station. Need you to answer some questions."

You stop struggling. "I- What?"

"You're not under arrest. It's voluntary, but we'll have to go to the station," he speaks calmly, straight to the point. You notice that his nose is slightly crooked. You wonder how many people have punched it. Quite a few, probably, considering that you'd quite like to do the same.

"Just go," your boss calls over, not even looking in your direction. Asshole, you seethe internally. City is full of fucking assholes.

"Where the fuck is Yoongi?!" You demand to know, this time shouting towards your boss, who looks like he's in desperate need of a cigarette. He just fucking shrugs.

"C'mon, station," the officer says, deciding that enough is enough. 

You don't know your rights. You can't fight back, not really, and you're starting to tear up, and everything feels like such a fucking mess. You just wanna know that Yoongi is safe, that he's well, that he's okay. If he's not, it's all your fault, and you don't even know how to process that. 

In fact, you don't know how to process any of this. Your cheeks are wet before you're even sitting in the back of the police car. The engine rumbles, and before you know it, you're back downtown, but this time you're at the city's main police office. 

It's hard to comprehend anything. You practically feel like you're dragged from the car and then dumped in the witness interrogation room. Some rookie cop is asking you questions, and you find yourself not wanting to answer a single one of them.

They're stupid fucking questions, for starters. Dumb shit.

Why did you switch your shift? Were you aware of a planned hold up at your place of work? Is that why you swapped? Who were you going on a date with? Why did you lie to Min Yoongi about your activities this evening? How do you not know the name of your date? Says on your file that you legally changed your name six years ago? Why? Anyone know of your family ties to politics? 

Dumb questions reap dumb answers though, so once they realise they're getting nothing of any substance from you, they admit defeat. Tell you they'll be in touch if they need to follow up.

And then, after they've watched you cry for an hour and half over Yoongi, they tell you he's fine. Came in for routine questioning, but was released without charge (obviously) and drove back. 

He's waiting for you in the lobby. 

That temptation to break the officer's nose? Yeah. Intensifies. 

"God, you fucking idiot," Yoongi speaks softly as you come into view, face all red and puffy from tears cried over him. He pulls you into his chest, and you can hear his heart thud, thud, thud, against your head. "Why did you go to work? Shouldda just gone home."

He calls you an idiot again, and you sniffle into his chest. There's a comforting scent to his clothes, a mix of gasoline and cotton, and it makes you feel a little calmer. 

You pull away, and inspect his face. There's a small graze on his cheekbone, which is beginning to bruise, and a little dried blood crusting around his nostrils. Other than that, he seems okay. 

He's silent as your fingers trace the pink flesh of his cheeks, lips resting a little ajar, unsure. Uncertain. He doesn't know what to make of such an outward display of concern - so he simply brushes it off. 

"I'm fine, trouble," he promises, bringing his hands up to clasp your wrists and stop your hands from roaming. Doesn't wanna stop you. Not really. Just knows that he should. "C'mon, let's get you home."

And it's ridiculous, 'cause Yoongi was the one who had been held at knifepoint by three men that evening, the tills forcefully emptied and his life threatened if he didn't tell them where 'the girl' was. 

He doesn't tell you that last part when he tells you what happened, though. Doesn't want to scare you. He's scared enough, himself.

It replays in his head, the way the guy with the knife doubled-down when Yoongi said he had no clue where you were. The clatter of the knife against the counter, the hands that tangled in his hair and slammed his face against the surface... yeah, they weren't memories he'd be forgetting any time soon.

Yoongi has few regrets in life, but taking the perspex screen down at the beginning of his shift to clean it definitely makes the list.

A conversation plays on loop, though, which scares him more than anything else. 

"You said she'd be here. She ain't fuckin' here!" "Well she normally is. You know I've been keeping watch for weeks-" "Not hard enough." "Oh fuck you, you do it next time, prick." 

Doesn't take a genius to work it out - and Yoongi's pretty smart, regardless. For whatever reason, they'd been hoping you'd be on shift.

"Do me a favour?" Yoongi asks as he rolls his car into your neighbourhood. He only lives around the corner from you, but it's too far, he thinks. 

"Mhmm?"

"Kind of feel a bit..." he pauses, but doesn't elaborate. He doesn't need to. You already know. "Don't really wanna be alone."

"Stay at mine," you offer, straight off the bat, not giving it a second thought.

He shakes his head. Makes some excuse about your place being small. Avoids mentioning the fact he's scared that someones keeping tabs on you. 

"I've got a spare room," he adds. "Makes more sense."

You'd be forgiven for thinking this is just another sign that the poor boy is helplessly infatuated with you. He knows he isn't really all that inconspicuous, but he also knows that the pair of you would never work. He just can't seem to help himself.

And so you end up in his bed, while he takes the pull out sofa in his spare room, because he's far too much of a gent to make you sleep on something so crappy. He leaves the heater on in your room, because you're always complaining about the cold, and tells you not to worry when you pout and mention the fact it will hike his heating bill. It's a small price to pay. 

"All the money I've saved when you refuse taxis can go on the heater, instead."

Still, you click it off as soon as you're confident Yoongi won't be back in to check on you.

In the morning, when his hair is all fluffy and cheeks puffy from a crappy sleep, he orders breakfast and double-checks that you're okay to work the shift you're scheduled on for. You remind him that he was the one held at knifepoint. Not you.

You're not surprised to learn that Yoongi thinks two iced americanos and half a bagel each qualifies as 'breakfast', but you appreciate it nonetheless. 

"I can cover, if needs be," he rambles, bagel in one hand, americano in the other, while you watch on with a smile. His cheek has bruised rather spectacularly, and you wonder if it aches as much as your heart does. "Boss gave me a couple days off, but I don't love the idea of you being there alone-"

The guilt of asking him to cover the night before is eating you alive. You don't think you'll ever ask him to cover for you again. Karma will catch up with you, you're sure, but for now, you'll be your own Saturn. 

"I'll be fine," you smile. "Lightning never strikes twice." 

────────────

When Jungkook drives, he drives alone. 

No music, no radio, just him and the open road. He likes to hear the way the tarmac sounds beneath his tyres, and how the engine purrs a little louder when he steps on the gas. It's therapy in a way - though, with the amount that he spends on gas, he's pretty certain that an actual therapist would probably be cheaper.

The roads are empty, morning sun breaking beyond the mountains that line Daegu, as he makes his way past the bridge over the river, and out towards Kang's. There's a boxing studio next door, owned by Old Man Kang himself, a little decrepit and definitely not the kind of place you end up by chance. 

It's the kind of place that's bestowed upon those who need it; the people looking for a home. A family. A cult, some like to joke, though Jungkook thinks they're half right. For him, it's somewhere to hide when the world gets too invasive; a shadow in the spotlight. 

Old Man Kang's boxing club is a shit hole, when Jungkook looks at it objectively. Wires hang from the ceiling, and the walls have needed a paint ever since he'd first stepped foot into the place six years ago. He thinks about doing it sometimes, just showing up early before anyone else arrives, with a can of white emulsion from Daiso and a few brushes. Never does it, though. Would be a thankless job. Old Man Kang probably wouldn't even notice. 

And if he did? He'd probably make Jungkook pay for 'defacing his property.' 

As he pulls his car into the forecourt, parking up by the air compressors, Jungkook sighs. He isn't expecting anyone else to be here so early, but he's having trouble sleeping. Pulling down on his sun visor, he's rough as he slides the mirror cover across to study his face.

He's not looking too bad - lip a little split, but alright, all things considered. Could have been a lot worse. Namjoon has a mean left hook, after all.

His thumb presses down on the buckle of his seatbelt, releasing it as he reaches over for his duffle bag in the footwell of his passenger seat. There's a clink as he does so, half a dozen bottles of soju ready to be transferred into the fridge by the entrance to the locker room. It's a free for all, used by all the members of the boxing club, but no one ever knows who actually stocks it up. It just kind of... replenishes. Like Christmas presents, or coins under pillows in place of lost teeth.

Admittedly, Jungkook never used to know, either. He still doesn't know who stocks up the waters. He knows who stocks the soju, though. Or at least, he's known for the last few weeks, now.

Where else is he gonna put all the bottles he buys from your store? It's not like he ever drinks them. He just needs an excuse to visit so frequently. 

"You're early," a voice says from the back entrance, as Jungkook is shuffling around with the bottles. The fridge light hums, illuminating his face, as he lets his perfectionism take priority when arranging the bottles. He doesn't turn to look, knowing the tone by heart.

"So are you, Minnie."

Minnie by name, mini by nature, Park Jimin is a 5'7 (though he swears blind he's 5'9 with shoes on) force to be reckoned with. He likes to get to the club early, before his shifts at the fishmongers. It gets his blood pumping, ready for a day of hacking away at marine carcases. 

"I'm always early," he teases, as he tosses his bag on an old wicker chair in the corner of the room. 

It's a large space - a disused rice store that was repurposed in the 80's, and taken over by Old Man Kang after the last owner gambled it away during a back alley game of poker. A large square ring is in the middle, red ropes a little tatty, but still usable. There are a few machines dotted around the corners of the room, but most people opt to use the plethora of punching bags hung up by the far wall.

Jungkook smiles softly as he begins to wrap his hands up. He's dressed down in just a black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats. They're tapered towards his ankles, where they meet his beat-up black high tops. His laces are pulled tight, wrapped around the classic star logo, and tied in hasty bows on the back of his ankles. Double knotted, as always. "Couldn't sleep."

For how much of a liar he is, Jungkook is always honest with Jimin. 

Well. Nearly always.

Jimin heads for the far corner, where a skipping rope is strung up on a rusty nail embedded into the wall. He nods, figuring as much. "Joon isn't happy."

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he stretches out his back. He couldn't give a fuck if Namjoon is happy or not, especially not after-

"You should talk to him."

Squaring up to the coffee-brown punching bag, Jungkook knocks his head to the side. His jaw clenches as he gently presses against the leather to get a feel for the weight. He bounces, left, right, and then throws a punch. The smack of his hand against the weighted bag echoes into the room.

"Or not," Jimin adds, sensing that Jungkook is in no mood to talk to anyone - and definitely not Namjoon.

Unsolicited advice is never received well by Jungkook. If he wants it, he'll ask for it. Jimin knows this.

There's an art to the way his body moves, recoiling a little with every punch thrown until he disciplines himself. Back broad and triangular, calves strong and tense, it's clear to see that Jungkook can defend his own. If he had wanted to fight back against Namjoon, he could have. 

But Jungkook is a man of honour. Integrity. Respect. He'd never fight against Namjoon, no matter how much he disagreed with him - so instead, he takes it out on a punching bag that is so old it may as well be an antique. The echo of his assault against the leather rings in his ears like a warning bell. A siren. A chime. 

It's funny, 'cause a few roads over - just past the bridge and down the lane  - there's a ringing in your ears too. 

For you, it actually is a chime - the one of the gas station door, and it's a scathing reminder of how badly you fucked up by asking Yoongi to cover your shift.

You spend your morning lamenting, hypothesising. You're so busy thinking about the stupid boy who drives that god-awful red car, that you don't even bother making assumptions about other customers.

They're all about him. Where he was, who he was with. Why he did what he did. 

You decide that he grew up in a single-parent household. He's already mentioned his late mother, and suggested that she influenced his need to apologise, so a father figure didn't really seem to fit the profile you have of him. 

He wears so much black because he's scared of having an actual personality. Scared that it makes him vulnerable. Or so you assume. In fact, you decide that 'scared' is the best way to describe him. 

A scaredy-cat. A chicken. A pussy. No balls. 

After all, he was too scared to show up, and didn't even have the bottle to find a way to let you know. Did he have your number? No - but perhaps that was deliberate on his part, too.

Your final assessment of his character comes in the form of his FWB (turned far-too-clingy lover). If she's real, which again, you've decided she is, then you don't think it's her fault that she's developed an unhealthy dependency on him. He seems to be the type to lift others up, only to drag them back down with him.

Enough thoughts about him, though. 

If you're not worthy of his time, then why should he be worthy of yours?

The next few days are spent in a subliminal haze; body moving, mind still. It's Wednesday before you know it.

Jieun is on shift with you, after she complained about not wanting to work alone following the raid. You told her that no one would be stupid enough to rush the place again so soon after the first time, but she's having none of it.

"We don't get paid enough to put our lives at risk," she states whenever the topic of conversation is mentioned. And she's right - you don't.

But as you look at the grainy CCTV footage still-image that's taped up above the counter, you can't help but think they wouldn't have actually killed either you or Jieun. Realistically, they barely left a scratch on Yoongi. Physically, at least. Mentally, he's a little more wounded. 

There had been three of them; two rather tall, the third shorter. About Yoongi's height, you guess. Dressed in all black, it's hard to really distinguish any features or their bodies, let alone their faces, which had been covered in ski masks. Run of the mill robbers. The kind you see in crappy action films. Background characters. Just a way to move the plot along, no real personalities, no actual significance to the lives of the protagonists, other than causing a mild inconvenience.

You don't even realise when you're making assumptions, these days.  You think in hypothesis more often than not.

The thieves had run off on foot and down the back alley behind the shop, which is where the trail to find them ends. The CCTV for the alley has been out for months. The boss didn't deem it a necessary investment - "Well, we'd never been robbed before!" - so it had fallen to the bottom of his priority list. The issue with the back alley is that it leads to an underpass with so many blind spots that it's easy - almost too easy - to slip into nothingness. 

It's when you're staring at them, thinking about the assumptions you could make for your mystery men of misdemeanours, that the door chimes. 

You don't ignore it, anymore. The raid has spooked you. So you look towards it, and are met with the sight a broad back. The shoulders, strong and well-defined, are covered in a brown flannel shirt. It's tucked into a pair of jeans, that cling to the contours of the customer's legs. He's not wearing a coat - just hopped out of his car, where the aircon is keeping him toasty - and you realise you recognise his posture. 

The mop of bleached hair is pretty damn recognisable, too. 

"Jieun," you hiss quietly, drawing her attention from the stock she's counting in front of the kiosk. She glances towards you, eyes startled by your tone. You beckon your head back, and she scurries over to you.

"Can you man the till?"

She looks confused for a second. "Why?"

"Girl issues," you lie, knowing she won't be able to say no. "Just came on my period. Need to, yanno-"

"Go, go, go," she nods, hurrying behind the counter, ushering you away and towards the staff room door. 

As you leave, you glance to the curved mirror in the far corner; the one that only you look in. It's your second pair of eyes - but you find another pair staring back at you. It's brief, and his gaze drops as soon as he sees you focus on him, blonde hair covering his dark eyes from your view. He's looking at the gimbap again, now.  Pretending like he never saw you.

Good, you think. Fuck off. 

It's been three days since he stood you up; three days since you jeopardised one of your best friends lives to see him, only for him to be M.I.A. You don't know the kid, not really. Why waste any more of your time on him?

You stay in the bathroom for upwards of five minutes. Just enough time for him to leave. Jieun must be wondering what you're doing, but you'll just explain it away.

You're quite good at that. Lying. Just little ones, white lies. Porkies. Fibs. Never anything that will harm another person, just things that will protect you instead. 

"Who's the blonde dude?" Jieun asks when you return. You furrow your brows and play dumb. "The one with the brow piercing," she adds, as if you need any clarification. Blonde dudes aren't really the norm around these parts. He sticks out like a sore fucking thumb. "Tattoos."

"Dunno," you say with a smile. It's the same one that laces all of your little lies.

For once, Jieun looks at you, her thick brows hard and poised, as if she knows you're lying. 

And then she nods towards the counter, where a peach tea and a cup of ice sits. "Left this for you."

"Hmm," you purr. "Must think I'm someone I'm not."

Yeah, you think scornfully. Must think I'm an idiot.

It worked as an apology once before - but it's a pattern of behaviour, now. He's a leopard, spots unchanged as he runs away from the consequences of his actions, suffocating you in the dust clouds he leaves behind.

"He's cute," Jieun muses.

"No," you smile. It's the same one. That little one full of lies. "He's not."

────────────

The peach tea sits on the counter by the till for two days. It's tucked behind a box of pocket money candies, which are waiting to be restocked; hidden in such a way so that only you know it's there.

Y'see, you've been making assumptions again - though you wouldn't really call this one an assumption. It's acceptance of a habit that's been proven: he will return.

He always does, it seems. 

And sure enough, that afternoon, two days after you'd last been graced with his presence, he returns.

Jieun spots him first, eyes darting immediately towards yours. You're like a deer in headlights, ready to bolt - but she doesn't let you.

"Gotta go," she squeaks, before mouthing 'girl issues' to you, with a smile she reserves moments like these; her little victories. 

He does his usual rounds, and you're already mentally ringing it up: a bottle of soju, and a tuna gimbap roll. You glance out to the forecourt, towards pump six - but it's empty. Not a single car in sight, let alone his trusty red pony. You're confused. Brows furrowed, nostrils a little flared. Lips pouty. You big baby. 

When he eventually comes to the kiosk, it takes all of your strength not to ask, 'why the fuck are you here?'

And just like all of your assumptions about him, you're wrong. Again. 

No soju, no gimbap. Banana milk and bibimyun ramyeon, instead. A great combination by all accounts, but you're not gonna give him the satisfaction of letting him know you think his choice is elite. 

As far as you're concerned, he can take his banana milk and shove it up his ass.

Frustratingly, he appears to find amusement in your outward expression of annoyance. There seems to be a small grin on his face, cheeks appled beneath his mask, as if he's not aware that it's painfully awkward between the pair of you.  

He has no manners, you decide. No spine. No awareness of social cues, either. A triple whammy. What a catch.

But you believe that silence is a virtue, so you say nothing as you ring up his items. You don't even tell him his total - just nod towards the card machine. He follows your line of sight, watching the machine light up for a moment, before putting his card in the slot. 

While he does so, you reach for the peach tea and add it to his stockpile. 

"You forgot your drink again."

He looks at the pouch of tea, then up towards you. And then he repeats it, several times.

"Ouch," he says, ending his declaration of pain with a small laugh. You've got half a mind to rip the pouch open and pour it all over his shitty flannel shirt. It's blue today, paired with sweats, because apparently that's fashionable? 

Boy looks like he got dressed in the dark, you think scornfully - but really, you're just annoyed with how hot you think he looks. Unreasonably hot. He's the bloody Sahara storming through Daegu's coldest winter. He's melting the river, leaving everyone wet in the process. 

Or maybe not. Maybe just you-

"What's the grin for?" he teases, and you realise that you've been paying too much attention to your thoughts.

"No grin," you snap, face flushed.

"Service with a smile, as always."

"Your transaction is done," you say, this time smiling as if butter wouldn't melt. "You can leave, now."

He holds up his pot of ramyeon and shrugs, before glancing over to the food station, where the hot water and microwaves are waiting for him. "Actually, I think I'm just gonna eat here."

Without even so much as a glance back towards you, the asshole picks up a pair of chopsticks, wrapped in thin paper, and heads towards the food station. You're in a state of disbelief. Entitled prick.

Jieun returns almost as soon as he's left the counter. She still doesn't have a clue about whatever's happened between the pair of you, but she did see you hiding up the peach tea a couple of days ago, so she figured it was something. 

"You gonna take it to him?" she asks, nodding down towards the tea, which he's left at the counter, again.

"No."

"Take him the tea."

"No."

"Take it."

"No.

"Fine," she huffs. "If you don't, I will-"

"Fine!" you whisper, though it's definitely a shout. You might not want anything to do with him, but you also don't want to watch him work his charms on Jieun. For her benefit. Not yours. Definitely not because you don't want to see him flirting with her instead.

Him, with his stupid tattoos, and dumb blonde hair, and annoying smile and-

"Go," she grins. 

"Just... give me a minute."

You watch as he fills up his ramyeon bowl, hot air steaming around the jet of water. It's been a while since you ate, and you're a little jealous. Your break isn't for another few hours yet, though, so smelling his food throughout the store will be torture. Asshole.

He sits down, and Jieun pesters you a little more, but you're trying to wait it out. If a customer comes in, then you can just deal with them instead - but the forecourt is empty, just like it always is at this awkward time of day. After lunch, but before the end of school. This is the real ghost shift of a gas station - after midnight is when it comes alive. 

Admittedly, it was a little too lively the night of the raid. You make a mental note to text Yoongi on your break, just to check-in, and then you glare at Jieun and her shit-eating grin, before heading towards gimbap-less Mr Gimbap. 

Tossing the bag down onto the cheap plastic table, you're indifferent as you speak. "Like I said. This is yours."

"Is it?" he asks, unpierced brow raised. "Doesn't look like mine."

"Well, it is," you say, clearly fed up with him. "And just while we're talking - where's your car?"

His eyes narrow ever so briefly. Almost like he knows you're onto him. For what? No clue. But something.

"Taillights out. Just needs a repair."

You nod. Seems plausible. At least he sticks to the highway code - even if he does break it after the clock strikes twelve every other weekend. 

You're not quite sure what to make of him as he looks at you, eyes only lingering for long enough to let you know that there's something he's not telling you. 

The air quality isn't bad today. There's no need for him to be wearing a mask, but he's hiding. From you? From something else? You can't work him out.

Perhaps it's shame. 

After all, this is a boy who came and apologised to you for being a little bit mean in the heat of the moment. Being deliberately cruel doesn't really seem like his motive, no matter how cold his demeanour is.

And so, instead of just letting your assumptions fester, you voice them.

"You're hiding something." 

You're met with silence. 

"Behind that mask," you clarify, before repeating yourself. "You're hiding something."

He looks at you for a moment, before dropping your gaze, and glancing towards the door. 

Thinking about making a run for it, you lament internally - but he's not. He just doesn't like how sometimes - just sometimes - your assumptions are entirely correct.

He lifts his ringed index finger to his ear, unhooking the thin black elastic that keeps his mask in place, before letting it fall. His skin is clammy beneath it from the heat of his breath, and the chill of the winter breeze outside, but your eyes fall to his bottom lip. 

It's split, the centre crease darker than the soft pink flesh around it. There's a bruise beneath it, still tender and sore. You don't mean to, but you gasp at the sight of it. It's no worse than Yoongi's graze, the placement makes it so much more bothersome.

Uncomfortable with the way you're looking at him - like you feel sorry for him - he hooks his mask back up again. 

"Happy now?" he asks, knowing that you just love to be proven right.

You scoff, a little offended. "Obviously not. What happened?" You take the seat opposite his. "Are you okay?"

"Nothing happened," he lies, avoiding your eyes as he does so. It's funny how you haven't noticed that little trait of his yet. You will. Just not yet. "I'm fine."

"You're quite clearly not fine."

"Quite clearly am," he bickers, before nodding to the food on the table. "Just hungry."

Ouch. You're just trying to make sure he's okay, but if he wants to be hostile again, then fine. No skin off your back. 

You nod, looking away. It's awkward, and when the bell chimes to indicate another customer entering the shop, you find your stomach lurching. 

Still, he toys with the softening noodles in their pot, as if they're the most fascinating things in the world. 

This isn't how he wanted this conversation to go. Hell, he doesn't even know what the outcome should be. He's just feeling uneasy, as if he's making all the wrong choices.

"I heard about the raid."

You nod. It's been on all the local radio stations. Thankfully Yoongi is the only employee being name-checked. You aren't ready to give up your own personal paradise just yet, which is exactly what will happen the second your family gets notice of where you're spending your days.

"Yeah, me too," you deadpan. It's a fault of yours, giving back the same energy you receive, unable to just suck things up and be nice all the time.

Thankfully, he smiles. You kind of expected that he would. He seems to get you, get your humour. It's something you both share, like a little secret. A smile rests on his lips as he glances up towards you, like he's a school kid trying not to giggle in class.

And then you find yourself making assumptions again. You wonder what he would have been like in school, if he would have been just as charming. You bet that he was the kind of kid who could get away with murder in class. All he'd have to do was flash those of eyes of his, and he'd be off the hook.

Sort of like how he does with you. Why else would you be giving him the time of day after he stood you up?

"Oh really?" He entertains your attitude."What did you hear?"

You lean against the table, a little bit provocative, but only 'cause his tone of voice matched it. "Heard that I'm lucky some prick asked me out, even if he did leave me waiting for hours in the dark."

His smile falters a little, but only for a fraction of a second. He likes the flirt; doesn't like the acknowledgement of what he did. "Hours?"

"Nah," you scrunch your nose up, and sit up straight again. You're still smiling, to let him know that you're feeling fine about it, now. "Didn't stick around for that long. What?" You laugh when he raises a brow, and begin to tell white lies. He'll see through them, but you want him to. "You think I don't have other eligible bachelors lining up, trying to take me on dates?"

He shrugs, and you can tell that he's pouting a little behind his mask. "I'm still the one you skived off work for, am I not?"

"That's neither here nor there."

"Yeah, it is," he speaks softly, leaning forward on the table. Closer. "What time do you clock off today? I wanna talk. Properly."

"Are we not talking properly now?" You say, unable to resist being difficult. It takes everything within his power not to roll those pretty eyes of his - but you're grinning, and he finds himself doing the same back. His mouth may be covered by his mask, but you can still tell.

He thinks about his response for a moment. If he's being honest, he wants to make some crude remark; tell you that he wants to get you talking just so he can think of ways to shut you up. You're not at that level yet, though. Coming on strong is unfavoured by him, so he opts for something a little cooler.

"We're talking about talking," he reminds you, picking up the pot up and leaning over to the sink by the food station to drain the excess water. "I wanna talk about... well, anything else."

You purse your lips, folding your arms across your chest. There's part of you that really wants to say no, to tell him to go fuck himself. But there's a teeny tiny part of you that wants to say-

"Nine. I'm off at nine."

"Nine," he nods. "I'll be here."

"Sure you will," you tease.

"I will."

"Yeah, yeah. Course. You're really good at that." You're nodding enthusiastically, a stupid smile on your face, eyes all wide as if you couldn't be more naive. You can tell he's smiling again, and it's like that door chime in your stomach is bloody broken. "Yanno, the whole showing up when you say you will, thing."

"Shut up," he laughs, but it catches in his throat like a low growl. "I'll be here, but not if you keep being a little bitch."

Your teeth cushion themselves on your bottom lip, and you nod. "See you at nine... Kook?" You question, realising that you're yet to actually ask his name.

"Jungkook. But Kook works, too. Just depends on how well acquainted you're planning on getting."

He doesn't give you a chance to reply, simply standing as he pushes the pot of noodles over to you. "Eat up. You look hungry."

Turning on his heel, he heads for the door. 

The bell chimes, and it's like it's harmonising with the feeling in your stomach.

You prod around at the noodles, and sigh, posture defeated. This is not good.

────────────

The rest of your shift trudges on. It's slow, the hands of the clock seemingly frozen - until, suddenly, it's nine.

"You're late," Jungkook greets you, perched on a bollard by the side of the forecourt. He's wearing a coat, now, wrapped up a little warmer than he had been earlier. His sweats have been traded for jeans, but he's still in that big blue flannel shirt. You like it. 

And he's not wrong - cashing up your till took a little longer than normal, thanks to an old note that wouldn't read properly in the sorter. Just another thing your boss refuses to upgrade.

"At least I'm here," you quip back.

"Touché." He holds out his arm, almost as if he expects you to link yours with his. "Shall we?"

You look at his arm, then up towards him. And then you repeat it, letting out a soft laugh, not accepting his arm, instead turning to walk in the direction of home. "C'mon," you call back. "You walking me home or not?"

It's his turn to laugh now as he ups his pace to catch up with you. "Not."

"Not?"

"Not," he repeats, seemingly unable to say anything else - until, of course, he does. "My cars around the corner. Wanna go for a drive?"

"Sorted the taillight?" You ask, curious, figuring that it would have been at Kang's overnight.

Jungkook hums a response, not really saying yes or no, but as you turn the corner and it comes into vision, you can see that his taillights seem fine - not that you can really judge. A car as old as his doesn't come with central locking systems, so it's not like you'll see the lights flash as it-

Oh. Nevermind.

There's a beep, and the car flashes in front of you, mocking those damn assumptions of yours.

"Since when do Pony's have electric locks?" You ask defensively, almost as a reflex for having your assumptions disproven.

"Since I decided to install them," he says, as if it's the simplest job in the world. You've heard Yoongi mutter 'bastard locks' enough times to know otherwise.

"Kang's must make a killing from you," you joke as he nods towards the passenger side, indicating for you to get in.

"Kang's don't make shit from me when it comes to the wires."

You wait for him to pop his door open before you do the same. The interior is leather, all black, and is cold to the touch as you get in. The windscreen begins to fog almost instantly, the minimal heat you're letting off proving just how cold it's been getting lately. 

It's curious, you think. There should be a little heat left in the car from his drive to meet you.

"No?" you question, choosing to ignore the temperature of the car. It's below zero, you rationalise. Of course it cooled quickly.

"No," he shakes his head, turning the key in the ignition.

The car rumbles - purrs - softly. You can tell he's listening to the engine, making sure that it sounds okay before he sets off. Standard old car problems. Running gas through the motor before it warms up only causes issues.

Like his locking system, you notice that the stereo isn't exactly true to the era in which the car was built (even if the lack of insulation is). It's got an aux cord hanging from the headphone jack, which he picks up and places in your lap. "Don't put anything shit on."

He avoids clarifying your question, and it annoys you - so you choose to be direct about it, not plugging your phone in at all. If he doesn't want to listen to shit music, he should be a more specific.

You're stewing, clearly irritated, but you're also casually enamoured, watching him as he carefully observes the dashboard, checking the revs, trying to heat the car up a little.

"Just the electrics? What about everything else?"

He doesn't look your way as he replies. "Just the electrics. Put your seatbelt on."

"Why?"

He's still not looking at you. "'Cause if I crash, you'll go straight through the windshield."

"Not the seatbelt," you reply, though he's got a point. You haven't clicked it into its buckle yet. Nor has he, though. "The electrics."

Still. Not. Looking. At. You.

It's not even like it's an important question. You couldn't give a flying fuck about his shitty car's electrics. You just don't like that he's deliberately avoiding answering something so simple, as if you're asking him how old he was when he lost his virginity.

Eventually, he cracks. It's as he's sliding his seatbelt down, the smooth noise of  fabric scruffing against plastic filling the car. He's bargaining - hopes that if he does his belt up, then you will too. 

Then again, he knows that you're difficult, and that you'll probably use it as a bargaining tool. You won't do it up until he gives you an answer.

"Electrician by trade," he says with a little sigh, before turning to face you finally. "Happy?"

You don't want to say yes - but you are. You're smug in the knowledge that you know just as much about him now as he does you.

"By trade?" You push a little further as your buckle clicks into place.

"By trade," he answers, in that annoying way he so often does, not really giving you an answer, just confirming what you already know. "I'm in between jobs at the moment."

"Ah," you smile, finally putting the aux into your phone. The windows are beginning to clear. "That explains why you're always in the garage at such weird hours."

It doesn't. There's an entirely different explanation for that. Not one that he'll give, though.

He hums a response, not wanting to tell more lies. He knocks the car into first, and lets the handbrake down, easing the car into motion as it rolls gently from the curb and into the road. 

It's at this point you realise you're in the car with a near-stranger, and that it's probably the dumbest thing you've done in a while. You're smarter than this. Been raised better.

Jungkook smiles at your statement, though. "You ever stop making assumptions?"

A laugh falters in the back of your throat. "No," you muse. "I don't think I do."

His palm rests on the gear stick, thigh pressing down against his seat as he dips the clutch. There's a simple joy to be found in watching his movements like this, as if you're getting to see something reserved for very few people. He's smiling as he knocks it into second gear. Smiles a lot around you, actually. 

Perhaps he's just like this all the time. Naturally light natured, despite the dark clothes and even darker eyes.

"Tell me mine," he says as the car moves from the slightly beat up side road, towards the main street that leads up to the bridge. There's a change in pressure beneath the tyres, the new road far smoother, far easier, than the one you'd been on previously. "Your assumptions. I wanna hear them."

"I can't," you reply, as if they're some closely guarded secret. In a way, they are. You've built up this idea of Jungkook; of who he is, who he associates with, what he does in the dark.

If he confirms or denies a single one of these assumptions, then it could all be in tatters.

"Can't? Or don't want to?"

You watch his hands as he flicks on an indicator. There's no one else on the road. Seems redundant. It's interesting, though, how he seems to care about the rules of the road now that you're in the passenger seat.

"Why can't it be both?"

And just like that, you're going round in circles again. Always talking, but never quite saying anything. It's a strange little dance you like to do, one that you don't know the steps to, but seem to get right anyway.

He uses the palm of his hand to turn the wheel, back on the bridge now. It's less icy today, but you find your heart resting in your chest just like it did the first time you were here with him. He glances over to you, but you keep your eyes straight ahead.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "About that time. When we were here, yanno?"

You nod. It's a weird thing to think about. You could have died. Came pretty fucking close to it - and yet all that really lingers in your mind from that night is the way he stared you down.

"Mhmm," you press your lips together, and cross your legs.

He doesn't like it. The way your body sort of angles away from his. It's cold. Cruel, almost.

So he lifts his hand from the gear stick and taps your knee. A request, not a demand. He's gentle as he nudges, encouraging your legs to unhook, until they're back in their original position. You just kind of let him. Neither of you say anything, but there's an awareness that he doesn't want you to close off from him.

Your arms move instead, without much thought, crossing over themselves.

"Don't."

The silence is so loud you think the windows might shatter.

"Please," he follows it up, then decides that he needs something to fill the void that you're leaving in the conversation. "Put some music on," he says, before backtracking on his earlier statement. "I don't mind if it's shit."

It earns a small smile from you, an exhale from your nose letting him know that you find humour in his words.

You unlock your phone and head to spotify, confronted with more playlists than you know what to do with, and settle on the one you use when Yoongi lets you control the music in his car. It's pretty inoffensive, you think. Nothing too shit. No noughties classics, at least, though there are a couple from the 80's. If he complains, you'll just remind him of how old his car is.

"So what's the deal?"

The fact you only start talking as he exits the bridge isn't lost on Jungkook.

"No deal," he replies just as casually as you asked.

"Well you aren't taking me home," you muse, glancing over to him. There's a smile on his face. Dimples present. "And I'm hoping that you're not chauffeuring me to a date with the Grim Reaper - so where are we going?"

"We-" He turns to face you, now. Just briefly. Just a glance with a smile that has a chime sounding in your tummy again. "-are heading into town. I don't think the Grim Reaper's gonna be there, but you never know with that dude. Always showing up at the worst of times."

"Mm," you agree with a small laugh. "His social skills are atrocious."

"You give him a run for his money, yanno," Jungkook teases you.

It's reflex, more than anything, that has you swatting at his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt is soft, and there's a waft of his aftershave as you draw your hand back to your lap. Oaky. Mature. Probably more than he seems to be.

"My social skills are fine. You're just shitty company."

"Me?!" He sounds affronted now, but there's a grin plastered all over his pretty little face. "Sorry, little miss clutch control. Forgot you were queen of making casual conversation."

"Uh-huh," you say as you shift in your seat, body angled towards his. The smile on his face grows. There's one on yours too. A pretty fuckin' big one, at that. "That's why they hired me. Could see I'd be great with the customers."

He snorts, crown of his head tipping against the back of his seat. "Oh, yeah?"

You hum an affirmation, and Jungkook looks towards you briefly, chin lifted, eyes narrow, curious of what you'll say next. 

"Well, I seem to have done alright with one of the customers, at least."

His teeth begin to show as he looks towards the road again. "Poor fucker. I'd hate to be him."

And then you're both laughing. 

It's how it remains for the rest of the evening. 

You're laughing when he parks in the furthest corner of the lot, just to make sure no one scrapes his paintwork. You're laughing when he can't figure out the QR code for the automatic parking fee, and you're laughing when he tells you to fuck off for laughing. 

But he's laughing too. 

Laughs when you can't figure out the apron in the dakgalbi place off the side of the main shopping street, and laughs when the middle-aged lady running the shop comes to help you out. Jungkook had refused. He was enjoying the struggle too much.

See, your cheeks go all red when you get flustered. He's never seen that look on you before. You get a similar look once you realise the spice of the galbi is a little hotter than what you're used to, and you get it again after you've had a few shots of soju.

He matches you, shot for shot, but also makes sure to keep filling up your stainless steel water cup. In fact, he fills it more than he fills his own.

Unlike you, and your perceived ability to judge characters, Jungkook actually can read people pretty well. He knows his limits, and he's guessing at yours, but doing a good job doing so.

It's not until Jungkook's paying that you realise just how many bottles the pair of you have gotten through. You're steady on your feet, but you can feel the alcohol in your system, and know that he must be the same.

"How we getting home?" You ask, as the chime of the door rings behind you. Within seconds you're pulling your arms over your chest, trying to preserve heat. You fucking hate January.

"C'mon," he mumbles, looping his arm around your shoulders, rubbing at the side of it quickly to build up some heat. He's all hunched up too, clearly feeling the cold. "Taxi? I can pick my car up in the morning."

It's gone twelve on a week night. You both know there's no way in hell you'll be able to score a taxi, not without a 45 minute wait, at least. The curse of downtown Daegu. Should have just gone to eat in your neighbourhood, but Jungkook felt like he had a point to prove. He wanted to make it up to you. Properly.

You drop Yoongi a text as you load up your taxi app, just checking in, letting him know that you're all good. He replies pretty much instantly, but you're distracted by Jungkook letting you know that his app says no cabs are available.

"Shit," you hiss, bouncing around on the balls of your feet, trying to keep warm.

Jungkook weighs up his options. On the one hand, he knows he needs to get you home. On the other, you're hopping around like a fucking bunny. It's borderline cruel to keep you out in the cold like this. Especially when his place is only a ten minute walk away, in the heart of town, compared to your hour long trek back to the outskirts.

"My place isn't too far."

The suggestion is out of his mouth before he knows any better. He's getting himself in too deep already. All it's taken is a couple weeks of awkward flirting across a gas station kiosk and exactly one (1) shared dakgalbi. Maybe the 6 bottles of soju didn't help.

"You can wait it out in the warm for a taxi, at least," he adds on, before realising that you're both as tipsy as one another. Both hovering a little too close to one another. Both feeling that weird pull, of which he's telling himself to ignore, but he just can't seem to help himself.

He's a simple man, of simple pleasures - and sex is the most simple of them all.

If he wants it, then you probably do, too.

Might do, he corrects himself. Best not to make assumptions about things like these.

"Wait it out," you nod, a little grin resting on your lips. They're a little plumper than normal, partially thanks to the galbi spice, but also thanks to the you've been biting down on them all evening. It's okay, though. Jungkook's lips are just as bad. All plump and pretty and - fuck. You know you're staring but it's kind of hard not to.

He knocks his head to the side and holds out his hand for you to take. "C'mon. I'm this way."

And so you do take it. Fingers neatly linking between his, hooking on and holding close as if it isn't the first time that it's happening. It's been so long since you did this with another person that you're almost not sure you're doing it right. His grip adjusts, and then his other hand reaches behind your shoulders to prop the hood of your jacket over your hair.

"For the wind," he says. 

Definitely not so that the pair of you are a little more incognito. 

It's why he puts his hood up, too... For the wind. 

After all, he's not hiding behind his mask like he was earlier. Not hiding from you. 

But he's hiding from something.

And you should be, too.

────────────

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

[wososage]

I don't need a babysitter: USWNT x Reader

Request: hi! i really appreciate your fanfics, they honestly make me super happy and give me something relaxing to do especially with stressful school season. I was hoping you could write something, like “It’s Not a Big Deal: USWNT x Reader” but like the r sneaks out during camp and everyone but especially carli gets worried and angry that r didn’t tell anyone where she was and scolds r and they make r room with carli so they can keep a eye on r?

Word count: 1936

A/N: I changed this a little bit to better fit with the current team. 

(Y/N) POV

I ride my board around town just taking in the scenery. It is such a nice day. The sun is out, there is a slight breeze, perfect conditions for riding my board. The only issue is I am not supposed to be boarding right now. The training staff isn’t too fond of me boarding so much because ‘my body is still developing and it makes my muscle growth disproportionate’. I am also supposed to be doing my school work during our break in between training sessions. But that is boring and will still be there for me to do later. I’ve been gone for about an hour and there is no way the team hasn’t noticed yet. There is some hope of being able to sneak back into the hotel but not much. 

By the time I get back to the hotel, my phone has been blown up by everyone and most of the vets are waiting for me in the lobby. I try my best to sneak past them, but Pinoe sees me.

“Where have you been Y/n?” she asks. 

“Out,” I say shrugging. I try to walk to the elevator but she grabs my arm and guides me to the conference room with the rest of the vets.

“Where have you been?” she asks again, this time clearly not happy with me. 

“I was riding my board around town,” I say, making it known I am annoyed with the situation.

“You know you aren’t allowed to leave the hotel without one of us knowing where you are going,” Pinoe scolds. “On top of that, you broke the rule about answering phone calls and texts messages. You are supposed to be doing your school work right now.”

“I don’t care,” I say with a raised voice. “I didn’t want to do my school work today. I just wanted to ride around town.”

“Don’t raise your voice,” Kelley reprimands. “These rules aren’t in place to make camp horrible and boring. They exist to help you balance everything in your life and keep you safe.”

“Whatever,” I say. “I don’t want to talk about this right now, I need to go get ready for training.”

“Y/n, we are not done with this conversation,” Kelley says, raising her voice.

“I don’t need a babysitter!” I yell to everyone in the room.

I leave the room pretty quickly even though multiple people called after me and I take the stairs to my room. Once I get there, I see the pile of textbooks on the desk and sigh. Other people slack off on their school work all the time. Why can’t I just have one day where I give myself a break? 

After laying on the ground of my hotel room for way too much time, I quickly get dressed for training and head to the bus, getting there late enough that Vlatko is giving me a disappointed look. I put my headphones and sunglasses on hoping none of the vets will try to start a conversation right now. Eventually, we get to training and we break up into small groups for warm ups, so I quickly insert myself into a group of the younger players. 

“What did you do to piss Kelley off?” Sonnett asks me. “She came to my room fuming and the only words I could make out were ‘Y/n’ and ‘trouble’”

“I didn’t do anything,” I say. “Kelley can fuck off.”

“At this moment right now, I will not say anything about the cursing,” Rose says. “However you need to chill out with whatever mood you are in because I know Alex is pissed at you too. Cursing and being rude to everyone is only going to get you into more trouble.”

“Sorry, Rosie,” I say. “Sorry Sonny. I am frustrated but I shouldn’t take that out on you.”

“It’s okay kid,” Rose says. “If you want to talk about it after training I have plenty of time to listen.”

“Thanks for the offer but I think that might require me to hide from like all of the vets and that task is nearly impossible.”

The rest of training goes fine and I begin to think I am in the clear until the team is heading to the bus and Vlatko calls me and Pinoe over to him.

“Y/n you know time management is an essential part of being a member of this team. You weren’t late today but you were very close to being late. I will let Pinoe take care of this one but if you are late again I will punish you myself.”

Vlatko walks off towards the bus so I go to follow, but I am stopped by Pinoe’s hand firmly grabbing my neck.

“You will go straight to your room when we get back to the hotel,” Pinoe says. “The two of us will be having a conversation about your behavior today. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah sure whatever,” I say with my frustrated mood starting to come back.

“Lose the attitude before you get on that bus. You are in trouble and you know it. Throwing a tantrum is not going to help your situation.”

After a very long bus ride of enduring stares of pity from those who don’t know what is going on besides the fact that I am trouble seemingly with all of the vets and looks of disappointment, anger, and frustration from the vets who do know what is going on, we make it back to the hotel. And I immediately decide to not follow Pinoe’s instructions. However, a hand pulling at my shirt stops me from getting too far. I turn around to be faced with both Kelley and Pinoe.

“What did I tell you to do before we got on the bus?” Pinoe asks with a withering stare.

“To go to my room,” I mumble while looking at my feet.

“So why are you not headed in the direction of your room?” she probes.

“I would really like some apple juice,” I tell her. “I was going to get some from the snack room and then go to my room. I swear.”

“We will walk with you to get the apple juice and then we will be going to your room to have a conversation. Next time, ask for the apple juice and we will allow you to get it.”

Both Kelley and Pinoe follow me very closely, probably expecting me to make a run for it. While the thought of running is enticing, I know that would lead to consequences that I would hate very much. Once we get to my room, Kelley stops me before I go in.

“We love you,” she says. “But you need to be held accountable for your actions. Pinoe will be taking care of this, but she will not hesitate to get others involved if you decide to give her more trouble.”

With that, I am left alone in my room with Pinoe, who has the disappointed parent look perfected.

“Sit,” she orders while pointing at my desk chair.

“Why are we here right now Y/n?”

“Some combination of you, the other vets, and Vlatko being dramatic,” I grumble before I can stop myself.

“Go stand in the corner Y/n. I will set a timer for 15 minutes and when it goes off I expect you to be able to have a respectful conversation with me.”

“I’d rather not,” I tell her.

“You have two choices, Y/n. Either you go stand in the corner right now for 15 minutes, or I call Alyssa in here and she is involved in this conversation after you spend 20 minutes in the corner.”

“Promise you won’t leave me here alone?” I whisper.

“I promise I will be here the whole time, Y/n”

After what seems like an eternity, my corner time is up. And Pinoe only had to ask me to stand still twice. The unfortunate part of my corner time being up is knowing that Pinoe wants to have a conversation that I don’t want to have and there is, without a doubt, an actual punishment for my actions coming.

“Are you ready to talk now?” she asks me.

“Yes ma’am. I am sorry I’ve been disrespectful all day.”

“Thank you for your apology. Can you tell me why you have been rude to pretty much everyone all day? Or why you disappeared without telling anyone while you were supposed to be doing your school work? Or why you did not answer a single text message or phone call?”

“I was frustrated by this situation and I let my emotions control how I was treating people. I disappeared because I just wanted some time by myself to relax. I didn’t do my school work because I just needed a break today. I didn’t answer any text messages or phone calls because I knew that I was going to be in trouble for leaving so I decided it was worth it to dig myself into a bit of a deeper hole if it meant I could be by myself without people bugging me.”

“Y/n, you know that needing a break from school and alone time are completely reasonable. If you just asked for those things we will understand. The reason we are upset is because we didn’t know that you were safe. We were worried that something happened. I think a few of us felt some anger when you came back and couldn’t handle the situation respectfully. I know that emotions are hard, believe me I get it, but taking out your emotions on people is not nice. I want you to apologize to everyone later today.”

“Okay,” I whisper, not happy with the large number of people I’ve been an asshole to.

“Next time you need anything, a break from school, alone time, apple juice, snacks, whatever it is, please just ask someone. It will save you from getting into so much trouble.”

“It's hard,” I say, trying not to cry. “I’m not allowed to want or need anything at home. If I ask for things I get into trouble.”

“You won’t ever get into trouble for asking for what you want or need here. I know that is going to be hard to get used to, but I promise everyone wants you to be healthy and happy so you asking for things will not ever make us mad. Please just try.”

“I will.”

Pinoe then sits next to me and hugs me and after a few minutes I decide to bite the bullet.

“Was the corner time my only punishment?” I ask.

“No Y/n,” she replies. “The corner time was to give you a moment to calm down. You are grounded the rest of camp for leaving without telling anyone where you were going and ignoring the calls and texts. We will be sharing a room for the rest of camp and you will have to be with one of the vets pretty much at all times.”

“Am I going to be allowed to have any fun?” I ask.

“A little bit, but this is a punishment so you aren’t supposed to enjoy it.”

“Am I still allowed cuddles?” I ask.

“You will never be denied cuddles,” Pinoe says while ruffling my hair.

“Are the others still mad at me?”

“They are probably a bit frustrated, but they know that I am handling the situation. I will explain a bit of what is going on. I am very sure that after you apologize everyone will be okay.”

[simmeons]

another 10 of the OTP questions with scones

11. Who leaves notes in the other one's lunch? (Bonus: what do they say?)

McCoy likes packing Scotty lunches more since it was a routine when he was married and took care of his kid, but he's not much of a note writer. Scotty is though, and on the days he packs McCoy a lunch he would write something simple; "Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm not good at rhyming, I love you"

12. Who prefers calling to texting (& vice versa)? Bonus: Who is so bad at texting it made the other think they weren't interested when they first started hanging out? [This could be hypothetical as much as real].

i can't explain how bad McCoy is at texting back. horrible. he's constantly forgetting to reply. Scotty worried a lot in the beginning of their relationship because he would think McCoy is mad at him or something, but they cleared it up. both prefer calling now

13. Stay home/go-out? What are their date nights like?

definitely stay home. screw going out and looking your best when you can stay home snuggled closely to ur human heater of a boyfriend

14. Who falls asleep during a movie?

Scotty. he's really bad about it. McCoy purposely picks movies HE wants to watch so he avoids getting sad when Scotty falls asleep

15. Who's the first to cry during movies that don't seem sad?

if the movie isn't actually sad, i don't think either of them would cry. McCoy definitely cries more during sad animal movies though

16. Who hogs the covers?

Scotty. Scotty so Scotty. he already warms run so he doesn't even need the damn covers but McCoy always finds them wrapped around him. he's tried hogging them back, but he learned now that you just have to wiggle yourself into the bundle of warmth and melt completely against Scotty (these are the nights McCoy sleeps the best- get him warm and he's out like a light)

17. Who is more competitive?

both. they try to act like they aren't but when it comes to board games it comes out in full force

18. What are they like when they're drunk? How do they act together? & when 1 is drunk, while the other one's sober?

ive never gotten drunk before (thank god) and never really been around someone who is drunk IRL (also thank god) so NO ONE look at me for this one. but i think Scotty would be very giggly and McCoy is overall just a bit calmer. when they're together though it's a fucking mess. Scotty is getting them into shit and McCoy is progressively feeding into it by coming up with his own drunk ideas of stupid shit to do

When one of them is drunk and the other isnt; they're used to this. they'll gently guide whoever it is through getting sober, since i don't see either of them getting drunk without the other unless they're going through something and alcohol is the only way they see to cope about it. it's an unspoken rule- if you're drunk without me, you're lost. i'll be there when you're sober to talk about it, no judgment

19. What do they fight about most often? (Alternative: what was their biggest fight?)

i already answered half of this one, so ill answer the other half. i'd probably say after the episode Empath. McCoy gets FUCKING TORTURED GUYS. Scotty is scared and worried for McCoy, but he's constantly playing it off. Scotty isn't exactly mad at the beginning, but he gets progressively more frustrated when McCoy won't open up about it and let him help. he just wants to help- why is McCoy being so stubborn? it admittedly blew up into something bigger than what it needed to be, but fear can make you act irrationally. thankfully they came together with Scotty apologizing about trying to pry too much and potentially babying McCoy, while McCoy apologizes for pushing Scotty away and not being open and honest about things

20. Who randomly brings home a stray puppy/kitten to adopt?

Scotty. he brings home injured animals and looks to McCoy for help, constantly forgetting he's a DOCTOR not a VET. McCoy still tries to help as much as he can

[foxymoxynoona]

You know, if I had a nickel for every time BTS made me stop listening to them due to their actions- I’d have 2 nickels. Which isn’t a lot- but it’s weird that it happened twice. Neither of these occurrences are recent so feel free to ignore this but I need to rant because I found out about it last night and it hasn’t left my mind since. And I’m ranting to you because you seem to have a pretty strong moral compass and you seem to be able to handle some bad stuff and I respect you. Also if I were to post this on my main- I’m afraid that some ARMYs would doxx me. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Anyways this’s got me all in a huff bc last night I found out that during the period I stepped away from supporting them (originally because they worked with Nikki Minaj while she was actively defending her brother who raped his 11 year old stepdaughter. Here’s the link to an article about it, should you want to know more: https://www.essence.com/celebrity/child-rape-trial-begins-nicki-minaj-brother-jelani/. I know now that this was probably less their decision and more their companies but I was also 17 when this info came out and I’m happy that I stuck to my guns then, but I digress) that yoongi fucked up and he fucked up big time.

Anyways- during 2020, when he was releasing his second mixtape, he and two other producers thought it would be a good idea to sample one of Jim Jones’ sermons. And I say him because at the end of the day he’s the artist; it’s his name this will all come back to. Not only that but you have to pay a LOT of money to get any of Jim Jones’ sermons/speeches when you’re not using it for educational purposes (for example in a true crime documentary or a podcast). You have to hunt to get that shit, and it’s not like there’s a lack of information about Jonestown available. This isn’t to say that you can’t employ the words of bad people in media- but you’ve got to do it right. An example that comes to mind is post Malones (not that I’m a big fan of his but he has a catchy song every now and then) song “Jonestown.” Granted, that song still feels icky but Malone demonstrates a knowledge of what happens and that he’s invoking it for a reason. Yoongi doesn’t do that. He picked a soundbyte from a mass murderer and decided to add it to a track that had nothing to do with the context behind the clip. There was no purpose, there was no reference to the harm done during the song. It was a song about “flexing on his haters.”

What he did was stupid. Plain and simple. Because either 1: he didn’t check the source (and he’s notorious for producing his own stuff so this is on him either way) for a soundbyte in a language he doesn’t speak fluently. If this is the case, it reeks of a rookie artist which yoongi is not. He’s seasoned and BTS had been in enough controversies during their early years to know that they should research.

Or 2: he knew and he didn’t care. Unfortunately, due to some comments made after the song was initially released, this seems pretty likely (ie: saying that he was using it because Jim jones was racist to Koreans. Which Jim Jones was known to be racist via a white savior complex and it was mostly focused on black and brown people during the civil rights movement but that still doesn’t have anything to do with the context of the song. It feels like a lazy excuse because he liked the aesthetic of the soundbyte).

But you know what, everyone fucks up now and then. You don’t know what you don’t know- but you can help repair the damage after gaining insight. And the best place to start that process is with an apology, right?

Apparently not, because while bighit released a statement in Korean and not on their main profiles (which is an odd choice because it seemed like it was mostly western fans upset at the usage). Despite saying that they vet the sources seriously, somehow they let this one slip through. You can’t have it both ways; you either vet it or you let stuff slip. And that yoongi was “embarrassed.” If he’s embarrassed he can say that himself. He was 27 at the time, which is far old enough to know better and to be able to take responsibility. In fact, it would probably get him a lot of brownie points if he humbled himself, but he didn’t. He stayed quiet and that was what really set me off.

These are grown men. Adults- Jin was in his late teens to early 20s when they debuted. They’re not stupid- they’re UNICEF reps for gods sake. Yoongi should’ve known better and the group isn’t in the precarious position they were in when they had their first controversy over Namjoon wearing a Nazi cap. That’s when you let your company protect you. This is not like that. I’m sick of the fan base treating these adults like they can’t think for themselves and that they should be protected from the harm they’ve caused.

So that brings me to why I’m telling you all of this as well as how I found this information out 4 years after the fact. It was through a meme. You know that one that’s used mainly for FICTIONAL characters that are evil but well loved (read: hot)? It’s the “my little meow meow” one. So one of the first uses, if not the first use, was an ARMY using it to defend Yoongi’s actions. Why they thought this was appropriate, I don’t know. But that’s what it’s from.

Now why am I telling you this? Well i know that you joined the fan base in like 2021, right? So this would’ve passed you by theoretically. And if I knew that someone I supported fucked up pretty massively, I’d want to know about it. This is also a reminder (not necessarily to you but to the fan base as a whole) that these are men. They fuck up and they don’t need you to defend them. We don’t know them, we have an idea of who they are in our heads but that image is incredibly manufactured. Fanfic and fan art aren’t as serious because they have personas they put on for the camera. But when it comes to posting about the members and sort of glorifying them (again, not you directly but I feel like this could start an interesting conversation) it feels like you’re letting the harm go unnoticed

Anyways that’s my rant. I feel better now. Again, feel free to ignore this. I just trust you with the info because you’re an adult and you seem to show a lot of compassion and a good moral compass not only through what you post on here, but also through what you write

I am actually aware of this and also felt severe disappointment because what I know of it seemed like an example of creatives hyping themselve up and doing something "edgy" without thinking of the real world response, then hiding behind a smokescreen to protect the artist. The apology didn't feel like there was accountability --unlike Namjoon's response many years ago the response to I think War of Hormone and sexism where he went to learn more and self reflect.

There is definitely this harmful cycle that can happen with celebrities where people are willing to forgive them for just about anything, and in turn they are surrounded by people who enable them to drift further from reality and do things that are less acceptable. I have worked with the music industry for 14 years, I cannot emphasize how many hours i have spent debating whether we should/should not work with this or that artist, whether what they did was bad enough to refuse, who has a right to draw those moral boundaries, etc. It's distressing how much of the industry have done really regrettable things --and that's just the stuff we know about. The profits enabel it.

Everyone has to decide for themself what the limits and application of their morality are, who they choose to support and in what fashion. Supporting someone doesn't mean you can't be critical of their mistakes, and everyone has their own line of "I admrie this person but they fucked this up and I want to see evidence of them doing better" and "I absolutely cannot support this person any longer."

Personally, I do think Yoongi learned and grew from this experience becuse while I don't admire that the self reflection was not public in a way that felt sincere, I don't think I've seen repeat behavior since that incident years ago. Could I be wrong about that? Totally. We make the best choices we can with the knowledge that we have.

That meme use is inappropriate and I don't doubt that there are always plenty of folks who are unbothered by what another person considers an egregious behavior. I think that's what you meant about glorifying, those who act like the people they admire can do no wrong. It does both ourselves and the artists and the whole value of "famous" people a disservice: they like us can make mistakes they learn and grow from, and we can learn and grow alongside them, but the hard part for them is that their mistakes are incredibly visible. I don't envy them that.

I'm glad it made you feel better to get this off your chest! And I'm touched that you consider me a safe place to vent your feelings to 😊

[horseforeplay]

i am 99% certain i know who you're talking about. we're still in mutuals because i'm afraid of her after noticing how many rumors about p***** t***** linked back to her but what the fuck happened if you don't mind sharing?

hmmmmmm yea. no comment re: p.t. but i can speak to my own experience

it's still hard to talk about but i was dazzled by a relationship with a B-list tumblr lesbian when i was seventeen and she was nineteen where she used me as her therapist and refused to let me leave when i realized the relationship was wildly unbalanced and unfulfilling. she was incredibly charming online but during her first physical visit it became clear that she did not care about who i was as a human being and we had zero chemistry. we kissed maybe twice during a nearly three-year relationship and when i attempted to get out she would threaten self-harm and suicide in retaliation. this went on (with my total compliance -- i can't think of a single way she abused me which i did not eagerly collaborate with her on and make compassionate excuses for) until, about four months after our "official" breakup (one she vetted for nearly six months before she felt comfortable going public with the news)............ i was taking a two-hour exam at college and left the classroom to find almost thirty voicemails calling me names, accusing me of cheating, telling me she hoped i was happy with whoever had poisoned me against her. four months after the breakup. and i finally blocked her phone number. and she made tumblr post after tumblr post (including one with my phone number so her followers would call me to "talk some sense into me") stating that if i did not speak to her she had a plan for killing herself. i have comprehensive screenshots of this meltdown, but they are boggling and upsetting and i don't care to share them in the context of just uhhhh LOL answering an anon on my succession blog. so i deleted the blog i'd had since i was a kid. i had enough. i cannot tell you how surreal it was to break down and call her, weeks after, just missing this person who had alienated me from my friends and family to such an extent that i believed she was one of the only people in my life who loved me, to hear zero emotion in her voice as she told me it was over because my blog was gone. the relationship was no longer a public source of clout for her and therefore not worth her attention. she immediately moved on to bullying a different cartoonist into submission. i did not realize the extent of what i endured until i was able to connect with other people who dated her and we were able to compare stories. i even apologized to her, owning up to my behavior in the relationship (after a stint in codependents anonymous and early transition anxieties made me dead-set on doing the right thing with zero regard for the reality of my situation) and then realized with horror that someone she abused soon after me also apologized around exactly the same time. all of our stories had frightening similarities -- the idyllic super-online early days, her dead-faced disinterest when she met us in person which would flip into picture-perfect happiness as soon as she pointed the camera at herself (one ex had a story about her seeming bored and even being pointedly mean to them until she insisted they take a selfie, at which point she would not stop kissing them as long as the camera was on). like i am a human being who has certainly hurt friends and partners and then made clunky choices when it came to amends, i'm not some saintly victim because i encountered this person (and neither are any of the other people i connected with who had similar stories about her), but i'm not gonna put my hands over my eyes and pretend i don't see a bloody trail of repeated behavior with her just because none of us are perfect survivors. literally no survivor ever is

and LOL i don't mind sharing. while also bearing in mind that social media is truly not the forum for understanding any of this, like this is Her Domain for a reason. survivor testimony, no matter how articulate, just does not hold a candle to practiced DARVO tactics and the tried and true appeal of being shamelessly and flippantly cruel on the internet for fun. like i can be as honest and earnest as possible Online but if i think for a second that that'll save me i'm fucked. like i am smart enough now to know this LOL. the complexities of that relationship, what it was like being on this site between 2012-2016, how much shame and fear around transness played into it, how tied up fandom behavior was in interpersonal abuse........ like. i'm gonna make comics about it because that's where my power is. like i'm grateful i am no longer so afraid of this person that i feel like i can't Share My Truth Online but also this is not the end-all-be-all for how i express myself. it's much bigger than fuckin..... posting u know

[shadsasaur]

TW PET EVERYTHING MEDICAL HORROR AGAIN UPDATE

monday we get in to see the best surgeon in province [AND THE ONLY VET IN PROVINCE WITH A CT SCAN, WE LITERALLY HAD NO CHOICE TO GO HERE DESPITE HAVING A BAD EXPERIENCE WITH THEM BEFORE. WE WERE TOLD BOOKING THROUGH REFERALS WOULD BE DIFFERENT]. we talk for a bit, shes optimistic, it'd be the second one she'd removed this week actually. she says they'll get us estimates. they say we can do a cardiac workup rn, a ct tomorrow, and amputate the full limb wednesday. they slap us with this.

[the first is cardiac workup, the second is CT, the third is the amputation]

i have a breakdown in the room. we had been warned to expect 6000-8000 total, not 16k. receptionist checks on us, i say as much, get told "well, this is gold star treatment we'd like. honestly the first is completely optional, we'll just err on the side of caution and use heart safe drugs for the CT if you'd like to skip it." we do skip it. we book the CT anyway. we have to know.

monday night at 8pm she eats and starts fasting. tuesday at 8 she is dropped off. we are told she'll be done "early afternoon" check the box saying "text us pics and updates during the day!" 6pm, we have heard NOTHING. we call back in distress saying "please tell us about our cat its been 10 hours and she hasnt eaten for 22".

we drive over. we here someone say remove toopys catheter and we're like ??? why has she had one in for this long after her CT. its been hours. you didnt call us?? how long would oyu have left my cat starving and suffering in fear if we hadnt shown up??? we wait 10 minutes, me crying upset while the worst shortfaced bulldog that keeps choking on every breath and 3 other randos are there. someone comes over, tells us "the doctor is too busy and can't talk to you tonight. she'll call you tomorrow. your surgery can be thursday instead" and hands us the debit machine and a paper.

YOU KNOW. THE KIND OF NEWS YOU WANT TO UNCEREMONIOUSLY HAND A PERSON IN A WAITING ROOM WITH A BUNCH OF STRANGERS AROUND WHILE TAKING THEIR MONEY.

i have a full breakdown. we finally get our terrified starving cat and leave.

all wednesday, we hear NOTHING.

today/thursday morning, lex is so mad and he calls. he gets told she'll call us when she finds time.

she finally calls us back after lunch, confirms it is indeed A Lot of cancer, that should not have been given that paper without anyone to talk to us, it is inoperable, what we can see is 20% of what it is. she walks us through drugs she's giving us for palliative care mode. i ask if its 20%, does this mean it started deeper and we noticed because it pushed out. she confirms that yes, there is no way it was treatable after it became visible, so us feeling guilty about not catching it earlier was unfounded. we did everything as best we could. we could not have changed this.

so yeah. painkillers and a painkilling anxiety pill for a while. we have to Make The Hard Decision when it grows large enough to press on her organs and either affect her going to the bathroom, or her breathing.

she doesnt fucking deserve this.

[kissthesun-gvf]

A Valentine's Rose

INTRO: I could not tell you where this idea came from considering we have TWO MONTHS until Valentine's but ANYWAYS. Also I learned how to use the read more thing (I think?). I think Josh should come give me a little kiss on the nose for learning how to use Tumblr. I need to put the wine away. Goodnight.

Because Sam could only afford a long weekend away from touring, you both decided to spend Valentine’s day at home this year, ordering food in and having a few drinks in the comfort of your home (and Rosie by your side). 

After dinner, you both retreated outside to share a joint and watch the sky, which had become one of your favorite late-night pastimes. Ever the gentleman, Sam offered to let you finish the last couple hits and made his way inside to clean up from dinner. You exhaled slowly and took in the quiet night. That is, until Sam threw the back door open and ran over to you. You looked up and immediately saw fear in his eyes. Shit. “Baby, what’s wrong??” You stood up and reached for him, waiting for him to get his words out. “I was stupid and I left chocolate out, and I think Rose got into it, and fuck, I don’t know what to do, and-” You cut him off by placing a hand on his cheek. “Okay. Let’s go figure this out then. She’ll be okay, Sammy.” He rushed you inside to of course find a happy as ever Rosie sitting on the couch, panting and smiling at you. “How much did she eat?” You asked Sam, who held up the half-empty heart-shaped chocolate box he had picked you up at the airport. “Well, Rose, you had a little treat there, didn’t you?” You kissed the top of her head and set a hand on her chest, feeling her little heart beating as strong as ever. “She seems okay, Sammy, but I’ll call the vet and see if they want us to come in.” Sam gulped, obviously very worried about his best friend. “While I do that,” you reached for your phone, “can you look around and see if we have any Isopropyl Alcohol?” He seemed confused, but nodded off towards the bathroom, glad to have something helpful to do.

The vet decided that the two of you could either attempt to make Rosie bring the chocolate back up at home, or you could drive her to the emergency vet outside of town and have them take care of things for you. Sam, of course, wanted to take her in to make sure she had the best care possible, and who were you to deny him. You loaded Rose into the back of the car and Sam sat in the back with her the whole way to the office, petting her lots and assuring her that she was going to be just fine. She, of course, seemed unphased by the entire evening. After explaining the procedure to the two of you, your vet explained that they usually take the pets into the back alone during it. Sam held Rose closer at hearing it. “Are you sure I can’t go back with her? Just to make her more comfortable?” He had asked, voice almost wavering. You rubbed his back to calm him down- you were fairly sure he was more scared right now than Rosie was. “It’s usually better for them to be alone, I promise. It’ll be over quickly and we’ll bring her right back to you,” the doctor had assured. Sam eventually agreed and gave Rose a million kisses before handing her leash over to the vet tech. He slumped in the chair next to you while you waited, and you could feel the worry he was feeling. Of course you were nervous too, but Sam’s relationship with his dog was much more intense. Right now you were here to support him and make sure he felt comforted and safe, just like Rosie usually did. “She’ll be just fine, sweetheart, she’ll be back with us soon and we’ll take her home,” you calmed, and Sam leaned over to rest his head in your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair for a while, and before you knew it the door was opening and Rose was trotting in to see you like nothing ever happened. “There’s my sweet girl!” Sam sat up quickly, kneeling on the floor to say hello. “How’d she do?” You asked the tech, who assured you that she was a star patient and should be just fine to go home as long as you kept her hydrated. Sam insisted on carrying her back to the car and sitting in the back with her where she quickly fell asleep. You glanced in the rearview mirror to see him watching her snooze. “Hey,” you whispered to him, “I love you.” He smiled back and whispered his return. “I love you too, darling. And I’m sorry we spent Valentine’s day at the vet, I know this wasn’t the most romantic evening.” “It wasn’t, but it’s okay, Sammy,” you laughed. “If you think about it, it really was a night full of love. First ours, but then I got a reminder of how deeply you care about Rose.” He glanced down at her and grinned, running his hand over her soft ears. “Admit it, Kiszka, she’s got you wrapped around your finger. If the vet told you she needed a stomach transplant, yours would have been first on the chopping block.” He laughed in agreement, careful not to startle the sleeping pup. “You’re right, I do really love her. And I love you too,” he glanced up, and you made eye contact through the mirror as you pulled into the driveway. With all other plans for the night at the back of both your minds, you both crawled into bed with Rose between you, deciding to let her sleep in luxury for the night to keep an eye on her. You cuddled in, and Sam reached across to kiss you both goodnight. “My girls,” he whispered to himself before falling asleep.

[macgyvertape]

D2 Season of the Seraph thoughts

Gameplay:

Was not expecting a second hive focused season this expansion

Really glad for the autofire option being a setting now. Topical that I injured my mousehand this week, but also I notice my fingers & wrists start to hurt if I play for hours with high fire rate weapons

I enjoy the Battlegrounds challenge at +5 at first but I quickly started to hate blueberries who don’t bring champ mods or refuse to run for the laser core. The best runs were with people I like or making a LFG post for Legend where I could vet people were bringing mods.

I enjoy seeing Mars back again as a battleground and that the Braytech facilities on Europa are finally getting used as a map

I finally got everything together and made some 100 resilience loadouts, and it's a night and day difference with survivability. 

Revision 0 quest: it was enjoyable to go in with no guide right up until the floor tile puzzle. I was thinking its a shame we only get 1 season with this mission so looking forward to the exotic mission rotator. 

There are a lot of server problems this season, the Christmas server problems were an unintentional API bug, but sucks for my friends who did a master activity then got a server error and no credit. I have a new years resolution to play more games that aren’t D2, and so that was the perfect time. 

The robo-dog is so cute, I appreciate a friend describing helping me get the orbs as “taking me to the pound to get a puppy”

Once again busy during the Dawning I didn’t finish the last challenge of sit in gambit or crucible matches. I’d never bother to gild it, get 2k kills with a dawning weapon, lmao what a waste of time

GM power level reduction is great, the grind to get to power level so you can do GMs when they come out is a huge burnout factor for me and others. 

Very glad Bungie enabled all the mods and literally made me more interested in playing the next month. It was gatekeeping for no reason to make players buy mods a few at a time that were sold on random days, some mods I had been trying to get for more than a year. It’s basically playing a different game if you have a current meta build that relies heavily on one or two specific mods. 

I got a good lorely splendor roll and it really is easy mode with Titan

Fucking finally got Touch of Malice after 55 Oryx clears

Grateful to everyone loss farming in IB so much bungie buffed the xp gained for the second week.

Glad they buffed drop rate from wellspring, wish it had been like this the whole time since I had 0 wellspring weapons crafted. The poor red border droprate, and the seasonal challenges meant I was always busy doing something else

I’m glad Bungie made a lot of announcements about when the final seasonal event would be, and it wasn’t during the last week. I also appreciate that they said they will go back to being more public about seasonal info. 

I really enjoyed the difficulty of the last mission, it felt like the right amount of challenge.

However the legend system that scales based on fireteam size means it's awful to run the finale or Seraph Shield with 3 people; numerically a person is better off running it solo especially with the solo operator mod. I ran the missions a few times to help someone out, and the increased health and limited revives made a 2 person team feel punishing in a way that doesn't encourage helping casual or less skilled players.

Finishing the season needing to craft a lot of the guns, once again the red boarder and seasonal playlist loop is a grind way past the point of enjoyment. It's better with a partial knockout system but drops for finished patterns still happen way too often and the seasonal activity gives such low energy vs how much is needed to focus and time spent. I finished the season without crafting the ikelos shotgun or the linear fusion, and I’m so burnt out on the loop that I just don’t care. 

The crucible rep changes are fucking awful if you place low in comp like me (Bronze tier). On bonus weeks its changed from 2x to 1.5x, and so the strategy seems to reward players for playing every week and more rewards for being good, so if you’re on the wrong end of the cycle where you only play crucible on bonus weeks because you don’t enjoy it or are bad then the slow rank ups just mean I want to play it even less. It was a shorter time doing a full reset of a gambit rank than half a crucible reset, especially because if you don’t get enough kills in a match the game gives you 0 credit. 

The crucible rep changes are a shame because with the matchmaking changes I really enjoy the 3v3 comp. I feel like I’m playing others at my level and its the most enjoyable Destiny 2 pvp I’ve ever played

I tried doing some solo dungeons with current meta loadouts, and there's a noticeable difficulty change between Duality & Spire vs the older ones. What I realized is I don't enjoy soloing dungeons; jumping puzzles are a lot more punishing, some bosses take noticably more DPS phases, overall it's an exercise of patience I'm bad at.

Week 1:

For real I thought the braytech security frames were going to shoot me in the back in the intro mission. I wasn’t expecting Xivu Arath to the antagonist this season since we already had a Hive season

Osiris’ grandiose personal introduction to counter Clovis’ ego, him and Clovis butting heads all season is going to be fun to see 

Mara’s back in her D1 pirate clothes? She and Crow are the only one who gets clothes change in this game

That the scorn were exhumed locally, nice to know every major battleground is a zombie surge waiting to happen

Lots of sad feelings that Eramis’ former house are being raised as scorn as punishment

I’ve been hoping to get Mara as a character with a storyline that isn’t about her and Uldren/Crow, looking forward to her being a supporting character and tying into the Bray storyline

The Archimedes mission was nice, playing it solo felt challenging

I just didn’t play all weekend when DiM and the companion app were down. Really shows how heavily the community relies on these third party services, and the dedication and work the people running them do is laudable 

Other Weeks:

So glad to Elsie back and interacting with Ana. its just Bray family drama this season I love it. Osiris pseudo counts considering Felwinter was his mentor

Clovis thinking its a magnanimous offer in his private guard answerable only to him. Just like how Calus wanted to possess us as a shadow. 

I hope that if he does pull the heavily implied doublecross that its not because of Darkness corruption or the Witness but just because he’s a shithead trillionaire

In-universe if my guardian passed Ana’s former spot on Mars and it still had piles of guns I would take some with me

Revision 0 quest: we “surrender” to Eramis, there's so much untapped potential there for Eramis fans. Also wow Eramis sounds so depressed and its understandable, all those of her house that we killed being brought back as scorn.

I love that they reused areas from DSC, it makes sense storywise Bray facilites used the same design and I’m sure helped with developing such an elaborate quest. Going up to space and seeing Earth and the Trsveler was really special

Think its cool Fenchurch (agent of the Hidden) gives us the weapon and not Clovis. We’ve seen more of the Hidden this year than before, I’d love to see a season of the Hidden and see Aunor ingame 

Cutscene: based of Bungie to include MLK as part of things Ana taught Rasputin, especially since they usually shy away from recent historical people

Clovis has the anime villian glasses glare, he did fucked up science to his daughter(s) and assuredly unethical animal experimentation to the dog. Clovis is Shou Tucker.

Ana says “why didn’t you ever tell me you studied under Fellwinter” when it’s like a well known fact, IN UNIVERSE. Cool to get more of Osiris reflecting on himself as a novice and his relationship with the Iron Lords. 

Aww there are some Cabal dogs there. Meme of Saladin running Old Friend’s Senior Dog Sanctuary complete with the infamous last post. Shame it won’t let me climb to the top

Fun Clovis cutscene, once again recontextualize that legend of “rasputin shot the traveler” 

So Clovis is just now on Europa?? As the verison in the exomind was a copy-dublicate vs a copy-cut, then wasn’t he vulnerable to Xivu-Arath the whole time? Also in a way Ana did kill her grandfather, if you consider the copy to be a separate version since if might have different memories

The dialogue in battlegrounds is top notch where it has just a bit of friction between different parties. Then there’s the direct personal attack lines of “Clovis Bray. Your progeny have surpassed you. Your services are no longer required. We appreciate your understanding”. Rasputin responding with corpo speak

Mara is back in her Queen clothes, dev bias that shes the only one who gets 2 outfits in a season /s

The new choral sounding music in the HELM is great, apparently a warmind track remix

The Rasputin and Osiris radio message was fun, in absence of Saladin being pissed at Rasputin for killing Felwinter we get Osiris being pissed when Raputin speaks with Felwinter’s memories

Mixed feelings on week 7 story where they started foreshadowing Rasputin’s death heavily, in week 7 its a question of “are we doomed to repeat the past” but it somehow becomes “humanity destiny 2 main story has no need for a warmind, Rasputin is too dangerous to live we gotta put him down like Old Yeller”

the ending cutscene was a lot of nice looking CGI and yet again the Tower view of the Traveler changes before a new expansion. Great to see all the different characters and the tower feels weird now without the Traveler. 

My more cynical take a week later and after thinking about how it was 2+ years between a Rasputin and Ana storyline, Rasputin’s death felt more like they were trying to trim the cast of characters than a killing a character to raise the stakes. Clovis Bray can copy himself and be fine after being deleted, and Rasputin has all these extra data cores he doesn’t feel fully dead, just “dead” enough for some angst but not so dead he can’t be brought back as the plot demands.

Do agree with the post that for a season where the grand finale is Rasputin sacrificing himself, this wasn’t really his season in that so many other characters got a lot of screentime, focus, and build up 

Anyway finally Eramis has crossed the line into poor little meow meow 

I like how Eramis has been talking to us personal a lot this season. Her lines on Seraph Station where she considered it a rematch of the Beyond Light fight, her lines in the battlegrounds where she says “polish your finest armor. I’ll see you again” and the other lines she has talks about trust and despair

Kind of a shame how at the end of the season Clovis kind of faded out of the story with no real resolution.

Dungeon:

45 second revive timers in a jumping puzzle fucking suck

Ah the rasputin classical music I love it

Eramis on the collectables? Once again we’re just too late to see her. “We have no need of gods” interesting how much effort Eramis spends trying to get us to hate the Traveler

Osiris: “maybe this will restore Ikora’s faith in me” plz Osiris just talk to Ikora she’s concerned that you have no ghost and there are 0 OSHA safety regs here

I like the trace the wire mechanic a LOT more than nightmare zone bell mechanic

The super low Cowboy hat dungeon drop percentage is bullshit if it was done intentionally. It's disrespectful to players' time to make the Hunter one more rare than the other classes. I finished the season with 0 hats.

The dungeon especially in the last boss feels like its meant to be played with 100 resilience.

[shorkbrian]

I watched a documentary abt the planet and unfortunately was thinking abt Shouto at the same time....

(NSFW, hybrid, sorry. Dubcon)

Rare leopard hybrid Shouto.

You’re taking care of him, just got him at the beginning of winter. He has a special diet, requires special care and supplements, the poor hybrid burned in a wildfire.

He’s so pretty though, with his dual-colored fur. The fuzzy, twitching ears on top of his head make him look so cute, even though he has miles of corded, dangerous muscles lying underneath his skin.

Sharp claws that could shred you in a second.

But Shouto is amicable, appreciates your care and lets you help him heal from his burn. Eats everything you feed to him, even the gross-tasting medicine. He likes when you scritch behind his ears, purring and leaning into your hand, sometimes almost falling over onto you as he chases your deft fingers.

He has his own room, which is for the best. You hadn’t realized that wild hybrids were used to nudity, not until you came home one day early on during his stay and found him sleeping face-down on the couch, completely nude.

The hybrid has the most beautiful body, lithe muscles prominent underneath his soft skin, white-and-red hair along his arms and legs, all soft and furry. Fat balls perfectly showcased between his legs, resting underneath his muscled ass as the hybrid lounged on the couch.

You’d grown accustomed to his frequent nudity after the first couple of months.

Shouto walking into the kitchen in the morning with morning wood, acting as if it was completely normal. And maybe for him it was, but you still blushed and averted your eyes every single time. He wasn’t shy about cuddling up to you, silently asking for more pets by nudging his head against you, tail flicking back and forth contentedly. It felt weird having a naked hybrid purring and shuffling closer to where you sat, but you were a professional, you just had to learn how to take it in stride.

Sad news came with his most recent vet visit - The leopard hybrid wouldn’t be able to live in the wild again. 

His burns were too severe, you’d have to help him heal for quite a few more months and it was already apparent that the hybrid had bonded with you, was quickly adjusting to his new life.

Shouto wasn’t upset.

He liked living with you, a life where all his needs were met and cared for. You had a nice big backyard with large trees, a pool, chairs where he could stretch out and sun himself for hours if he so chose.

His room was spacious, and he had his own bed. You bought plenty of toys that kept his mind occupied, kept him from being bored or becoming listless.

You cared for him so gently, saw to his every need. Shouto liked you.

With the news of his inability to be released back into the wild, you began teaching him how to live in the human world.

Humans wore itchy clothes almost always, and hybrids were mandated with collars and leashes in public places. Shouto honestly didn’t mind the red leash you bought for him - he felt safe with you holding onto him. And he felt that you were holding onto him just as much as he was holding onto you, a single hand gripping your shoulder or pinching the fabric of your shirt as you walked.

But he didn’t like the clothes.

They were tight and constricting and hot, and the leopard tried to strip down as often as he could, which meant you were heavily exasperated struggling to keep him clothed in public spaces.

And then spring rolled around.

Poor Shouto was used to finding the nearest female and breeding, never having to use his hand or deny his urges. He got to fuck and hunt and sleep, a perfect, fulfilling life.

The only thing he could do now was sleep.

You weren’t his species, but you were attractive, and you cared for him; he’d developed quite the emotional attachment to you. But when he tried breeding with you, you had rejected him with a scandalized “Shouto, you can’t!”

His mood soured.

You took him to the special animal vet again, and were hit with what Shouto knew all along.

He needed to breed, needed to hunt. Just because he was practically turning into a housecoat didn’t mean that his instincts were fading away.

So you told him how to jerk off.

The conversation was filled with long pauses, stuttering, and your face being beet red the entire time. Shouto didn’t understand, he couldn’t breed his hand? It was pointless, and when he tried, it barely even felt good, didn’t sate his instinctual urges.

You were able to tamp down his urges for hunting by signing him up for a hybrid-only running club. But you couldn’t help him with his breeding problem.

And Shouto just got so frustrated. 

His tail was constantly waving with agitation now, the hybrid stalking nude around your house with a chubbed-up cock and a sour look upon his face.

It came to a head when you were taking him out one day, intent on getting him some fresh air so that he wasn’t trapped in your stuffy house that smelled of angry, horny leopard.

You bought him soda, which he gulped down, careful in holding it so that his sharp claws didn't puncture the can. He informed you he was still thirsty. So you took him to the store, allowing him to pick out any drink he wanted.

The entire time you were checking out, his eyes were glued to a couple in another lane, buying chocolate and wine and condoms, lazily kissing each other and ignoring everyone else.

Shouto was fine walking out to the parking lot, fine as he helped you load the groceries into the back of your car, fine as you led him to the passenger seat, opening the door so he could climb in. 

But you were so close, and you smelled so good, and Shouto was irritated he wasn’t allowed to breed, but other humans obviously were.

You were shoved against the seat, Shouto attacking your neck with kisses and painful bites as his claws shredded your clothing, revealing your body.

“Shouto! Stop it! Don’t do that!” You cried, but the hybrid wasn’t listening. He wasn’t a housepet, you shouldn't’ try to order him around like one.

“Wait, we’re-! We’re in public!”

“Your kind has a thing for filming animals when they breeding, market it off as “educational”.” Shouto pointed out, and well, fine, but you were a human and he was a hybrid, this was illegal.

But he didn’t care.

All he cared about was sating his instincts, slipping inside your hole with a soft purr, rutting against you with flexing hips.

He didn’t know to touch you, or to try and make you feel good, but his dick was so long, fat round balls squishing up against you in such a pleasurable way that you were wiggling in his hold, whimpering out pathetic little embarrassed noises.

You hoped no one could see you.

When Shouto came, he stayed put for a little bit, still grinding his softened cock into you, hissing a little bit. It had been so long since he had fucked, since he had bred.

When he finally let you squirm away from him, his face was rosy, sweaty, but pleased. “We’re doing that again when we get home.”

You were his care-taker, were you not? You’re supposed to take care of his needs.

All of them.

[iheartcake123]

☁️stay-seo moon-jo☁️

warnings: cursing

Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6

Part 2

-3rd person p.o.v-

“im telling you, these people are fucking crazy! and i haven’t even met all of them yet” y/n complained into the phone as she spoke with her sister “plus my tooth has started acting up again…ah i just can’t catch a break”

“it’s only been a day..maybe it’s your nerves making you hyper aware so that you overthink everything” her sister explained and y/n just nodded “and i told you to get your teeth sorted before you left. now you have to go to a dentist there”

“ah you’re probably right. i should probably cut down on the cola aswell” y/n sighed, her head turning after hearing footsteps behind her “i’ve got to go but i’ll call you soon, okay?” she quickly spoke into the phone before stuffing it in her pocket.

“don’t mind me, i just came out for some fresh air” moon-jo calmly said, a small smile on his face.

“right..” y/n muttered before heading to the rooftop door to head back down.

“wait.” he said and y/n stopped in her tracks “you forgot your drink”

moon-jo held out the half empty can of coke and y/n forced a smile before walking over and taking it from him.

“thanks” she quickly said and moon-jo smirked as he watched her leave.

y/n made her way down the stairs with her drink in hand.

“god..this place” she whispered to herself, before gulping down the last bit of her drink.

she walked into the shared kitchen and threw away the empty can.

the place was quiet but then she jumped after hearing a loud laugh.

“y-you must be the new girl in room 303” the guy laughed and y/n raised an eyebrow “i-im deuk-jong”

something about him wasn’t normal but he seemed nice enough.

“yes, nice to meet you” she smiled at him.

“you’re p-pretty” he then laughed and y/n awkwardly laughed before nodding her head.

“thanks”

“aish, you’re not bothering the new girl huh?” and older man appeared from his room and slapped duek-jong over the head.

he then turned to y/n.

“im hee-joong, a girl like you should never have moved into a place like this. these assholes don’t know how to act” he said before pushing deuk-jong out the way.

y/n didn’t know how to react so she just hummed in response before turning on her heel.

as she walked into her room, she paused and saw that moon-jo had also come down from the rooftop and was now talking to the other residents.

she didn’t care what they were talking about and instead just slammed her door shut.

y/n didn’t even bother to brush her teeth, she didn’t want to face anyone else so she just went to bed instead.

—————————————————————————

the next morning, y/n woke up with a sharp pain in her tooth. she groaned as she sat up and rubbed her cheek. she definitely had to book an appointment at the dentist now.

luckily for her miss.eom had actually put a new lock on the bathroom door so y/n could shower and get ready in peace for her first day at work.

when it finally came around to leaving for work, y/n grabbed her handbag and made sure to lock her room door.

by the time she got to work, she couldn’t be more glad to be working the front desk. this meant that she could sneak out during her lunch break and quickly get her tooth ache sorted out.

by the time lunch time came around, y/n quickly packed her things and just as she was about to leave her boss stopped her.

“you’re a hard worker y/n” her boss complimented “tomorrow i’ll put you with one of the vets to help them out”

“oh, thank you boss” y/n smiled and her day was made “actually im leaving for lunch to go to the dentist..i hope that’s okay”

“ahh of course it’s okay, just make sure you return on time”

relief flooded y/n as she finally found the dentist office. her feet carried her up the stairs and towards the receptionist.

“i know I don’t have an appointment but my tooth has been killing me, so is there anyway i can quickly see a dentist?” y/n questioned the receptionist.

“there’s no dentists available and the one that is, is on his lunch break now. i can make you an appointment for another day though” the receptionist explained and y/n nodded feeling defeated.

“sure, when’s your next available-”

“ah what is this…y/n” a voice said.

and y/n sighed, she couldve sworn it was moon-jo’ voice.

it was.

“ah, sir. she wanted to see a dentist right now for a tooth ache but there was no one free” the receptionist told him and he hummed.

“im free, i can have a look at her teeth” y/n made eye contact with him and she quickly came up with an excuse.

“no, it’s fine! i can just go to a different dentist” y/n hastily turned on her heel.

“just come, it’ll be free of charge instead of you having to pay somewhere else” moon-jo then said and y/n sighed.

it was a good deal.

especially considering she was broke.

“ok,fine” y/n gave in and moon-jo gestured for her to follow him.

“sit” he motioned to the dentist chair and y/n nervously sat in it “you’re not afraid of the dentist, are you? you look nervous”

“um no im not” she gulped as he began to put on some gloves “don’t you need my dental history and information before doing anything?”

“no, we can get that after. now open your mouth”moon-jo positioned the light in front of y/n’s mouth before grabbing what he needed.

“you have very clean teeth but you do have a cavity” moon-jo said before breaking into a smile “ah you must really like cola”

she nodded with his equipment still prodding her mouth.

“it’s best if we take your tooth out before it gets worse” moon-jo then suggested and y/n’ eyes went wide when she saw him pull out an injection.

“you mean now?” she immediately shut her mouth and he nodded.

“the sooner the better, now open wide” he looked at her sternly.

“cant you just fill the cavity? i do have to get back to work” y/n suddenly jumped up from her seat ang moon-jo also stood up.

“okay, let’s book an appointment for you then. how about next week saturday?” he stood in the door way to block her from leaving.

“i-i don’t know” she stuttered.

“hm how about friday?” he looked her up and down.

“ok, sure, now can i please leave?” she reached for the door handle but he grabbed her hand.

“let me get that for you” he smirked before letting got of her and and opening the door to let her leave.

y/n felt a chill down her spine as she left the dentist office.

what a coincidence that she just happened to go to a dentist moon-jo worked at.

——————————————————————————

y/n got off the bus and made her way towards the residency.

a loud sigh escaped her lips as she finally reached it and just as she was about to walk in she heard a soft meow. she followed the sound and walked to the side of the building where she saw a little tabby kitten.

“oh, you’re so cute..have you eaten? you haven’t right? same here…let me give you some food” y/n smiled at the kitten as she petted its head.

after going to the convenience store to buy some cat food she immediately came back and watched the kitten as it ate.

“y-you shouldn’t be feeding the cats” deuk-jong suddenly appeared and y/n quickly turned to him.

“why? he’s just a baby” she asked him and he laughed before turning on his feet and walking back to the front of the building.

“it’s just a baby!” he loudly repeated walking back into the building.

y/n cringed at the thought of going inside but she was tired and needed to sleep so she said goodbye to the kitten before going inside.

her mood instantly depleted and she immediately went into her room to change into something comfier. she laid on her bed staring up at the ceiling.

she couldn’t stop thinking about moon-jo.

she’d be lying if she said he was unattractive because he was far from that.

he was definitely attractive but something was off about him.

the way he spoke and acted wasn’t how a normal person acted.

but no one in the building was normal.

y/n finally sat up in her bed after her stomach growled. she hadn’t eaten since breakfast time so she headed to the shared kitchen.

she walked in and grabbed herself a cola from the fridge before grabbing herself a cereal bar.

she took a seat at one of the tables and scrolled through different house/apartment ads while she ate.

“ohh y/n, make sure you drink up all the cola. i specially bought some for you today” miss.eom walked into the kitchen and tapped y/n on the shoulder “wait, you’re planning on leaving?”

miss.eom had caught a glimpse of y/n’ phone screen.

“i don’t know , im just looking so i can be prepared” y/n let out a small smile as her eyelids began to feel heavy.

“you know? you won’t find a place cheaper than this..plus it’s nice to have a girl around. having all these boys live here is a lot of work”

“hm, yeah i can imagine…i think im just going to go back to my room now” y/n stood up and felt herself stumble.

“miss.eom was there anything in-” y/n mumbled before she fell to the ground.

everything turned black.

[twink-between-worlds]

“This is for leaving, and this is for coming back.”

hihi so this is literally less than five minutes before v-day ends but uhh Four is gay as shit, misses shadow, but then has extremely mixed feelings when Shadow returns. Hyrule is also aroace but it's not outright said yk

ao3 link; !!!

Four hates this holiday. Most of the chain received letters with gifts today. Time got a dagger from Malon, Twilight got a book from Shad, Wind got a cutlass from Tetra, Warriors got a new scarf from Sheik, and even Legend got a necklace from his not-boyfriend. Four. Hates. This. Holiday. Everyone’s so,,,in love and it reminds Four of what he—Vio—lost. He always stays locked up in the forge doing anything to pass the time during the night. The night is when the main celebrations happen, and Dot can never make Four attend. The only good thing about today is that the colours won’t fight. Red, Green and Blue all know how much this hurts Vio, so all agree to not do anything that’ll set off faer feelings. It’s nice of them. There’s plenty of reasons why they shouldn’t care about it, but they still do. “You alright, Four?”Hyrule hummed, sitting next to the smith. “I hate this holiday.”Four stated bluntly. “I’m…not a fan of it either. I don’t get it.”Hyrule laughed awkwardly. “I don’t get the whole ‘love’ thing..do you?” “I get it.”Four shrugged softly. “I just don’t have it anymore. Y’know?” Hyrule nodded, blinked, then shook his head. “Not…really. Did you just…stop loving some day?” “I guess so. You’ve never felt that way, hm?” “Um…no. I don’t…I don’t think I even know what love is meant to feel like.”Hyrule paused, glancing at Four. “What was it like for you?” “I don’t think I’m the best person to ask—” “Please?” “...okay.”Four sighed, smiling faintly. “For me…it was like getting stabbed.”Four noted the fact that Hyrule jumped. “It was like someone had just walked up and drove a sword through my chest.” “Wh—is it like that for everyone?!”Hyrule jumped, alarmed. “Um…probably…not, uh.”Four glanced around, whistling over to the chain. “Vet! Rule wants to know what love’s like! How’d it feel like for you?” “Eeesh. I lost my ability to love years ago, kid.” “You say, wearing a very impressive necklace from your ‘roommate’...”Wild mumbled, earning a sharp glare from the veteran. “Hey, the man knows what I like in terms of jewellery, it’d be rude not to wear it at least once.”Legend rolled his eyes, shrugging. “Seriously, though…I don’t remember what it’s like. It really has been a while.” Hyrule blinked, then nodded. “That’s kinda sad.” “Eh.”Legend shrugged. “I’d never have time for it anyways, so it doesn’t bother me much.” “That’s even sadder.” “Shut up Four, you’re no bet—”Legend paused. One minute, his ears were sticking out to the side as they usually do, and the next they perked up fully. The chain would laugh if they didn’t know it means he heard something. “What d’ya hear?”Four mumbled, watching as Twilight’s nose twitched. He’s picking up a scent, too. …this group is so weird. “Someone nearby is using dark magic.”Twilight announced gently, glancing at Legend. “Hear anything?” Legend paused, ears twitching a couple times before nodding. “Dumbass broke a branch and said fuck about five times.” Four frowned, glancing behind himself. He feels a strangely familiar presence. … He knows that feeling. Four can feel their shared magic again. Shadow..? Four stood up, grabbing his sword as he headed towards the treeline. A few minutes after he had stood in front of the trees, a pair of crimson eyes stared back at him. … “You’re back..?”Four chose to ignore the confused sounds of his companions, staring right back at the shade. “Uh, hey. Miss me?”Shadow laughed, stepping out into the light. Fucker’s using his shapeshifting ability again. “Stop pretending you’re taller than me.”Four mumbled, before going quiet. He wants to slap Shadow. He wants to kiss him, too. …easy solution—do both. “This is for leaving—”Four frowned, slapping Shadow across the face. Shadow winced. “And this is for coming back.” Then Four pulled the shade into a kiss. It didn’t last long, but it still means a lot to both of them. Four chose to ignore any questions the chain had, besides one. Hyrule had asked if Four is in love again. Four simply smiled and nodded. “Yeah.”

[gliphyartfan]

@stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @linked-heroes @ice-cream-writes-stuff

This...wrecked me.

BUT it was a long time coming! Had to cut half of it out cause it grew too long (nearly 6k is still long right?). But I did it! I honestly hope I did it justice!

If not for @yandere-linked-universe, I would have lost all motivation a week ago!

But I was successful!

Still though...heroes and their need to argue...

It wasn't something they've done in a long while.

Gathering around one another.

Not willingly at the least.

Eight of them sitting a fair distance away from the houses, the camp fire being the only source of light for them at this time of night.

Hyrule the last one to arrive, having checked up on (y/n) before arriving at the designated place, so the eight simply sat around the camp fire in silence, stewing in their own thoughts.

When he arrives, informing them of y/n's stable condition, it was then Legend claps his hands and brings their attention to him.

'I think I speak for all of us when I say we need to air out some things.' He would give them all a stern look. 'And let me be clear on the fact that we can't hide anything right now.'

None of them look at each other.

Hyrule nervously agrees but expresses concern over being heard by the nearby houses, more worried at disturbing (y/n) than he was about disturbing the neighbors.

Wind assures him that they wouldn't be heard.

'Mesa doesn't sleep at night cause of the monsters that used to pop up, plus he hates being alone nowadays so he stays with Miss Sue-Belle and her grandpa at night.' Wind explained with a shrug.

'Even if he was there, he's a really heavy sleeper, we could scream at the very top of our lungs all we want and no one would hear us from over here. I've tested it.'

'How convenient.' Wars remarked with a snort but wouldn't make a comment after getting a look from Time.

Before things could become awkward, Legend does not hesitate to be blunt about it.

'We need to stop.' He would say, resting his elbows on his knees.

'Stop what?' Wild mutters.

'All of 'this'.' He's wave his hand towards the group, a scowl on his face.

Wars rolls his eyes.

'Legend, my dear hoarder, you need to be more specif-'

' When was the last time we talked to one another without taking note of eachothers weaknesses?'

Warriors closed his mouth, the group looked at each other, none speaking up with an answer.

'When was the last time we actually shared a space without tension? Covered each other in battle because we were worried instead out of obligation, or just leaving each other to fend for themselves? Or shared our potions willingly?' A sharp smile on his face. 'Or better yet, when was the last time we trusted one another?'

...

No one had anything to say to that.

Legend shook his head, a scowl appearing. 'I'm not dumb, I can see what's in front of me. Whatever trust we forged during our journey is at risk of fading to almost nothing. It's a fucking miracle y/n hasn't noticed us going for each other's throat.

'Okay, that's a bit harsh.' Sky interjected nervously, 'I agree that it's possible things have been...rather tense lately, but I wouldn't say it's that bad.'

Legend leveled a look at him.

'Four, Wild, and Twilight have all scared off at least 12 different people for looking at her recently.'

'It was necessary!' Four exclaimed in defense, Twilight placing a hand on his shoulder keep him from jumping up from his seat, Wild staying in his seat, though his hands tightened into fists. ' We saw the intentions in their eyes! The way they stared at her! They were looking at her like she was food!'

Legend turned the leveled look at the blacksmith.

'All 12? All of them? In the same town? In the same day? He asked with a scoffed, 'Same hour? Half of them women? Oh yes, very dangerous. And it's rather convenient when the Cook joins in and helps you scare them away.'

Four had a sneer on his face but the silent rancher's hand on his shoulder kept him from doing anything else.

Legend watched them for another moment before turning back to Sky.

'Warriors and Hyrule have been awfully careful with keeping any of us from encroaching upon her personal space, either by being the ones to guard her while she's bathing or when she's hurt.'

'What, so that makes us suspicious?' The captain crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him, Hyrule nervously ducking his head. 'She deserves some space away from you clingy lot! We're just making sure she has it!'

'Funny how you say that when you've been taken advantage of your position to have some alone time with her.' Legend doesn't even look away from the skyloftian as he answers back. 'You know, you're quite charming when you think no one is paying attention. And don't think I haven't noticed how our resident healer has been hoarding potions for some time.'

Warriors and Hyrule tensed at being found out, keeping their eyes from settling on anyone else's as they were looked at.

'The old man has been very careful in sending one of us ahead when there's danger. That honestly took me a bit to figure out, since he rotates who goes. Yet he never seems to volunteer himself.' The vet looked over at Time, who's featured remained impassive.

'Wild has been more aggressive with strangers than Four, which is saying something considering how violent the blacksmith has been. The sailor has been growling at every kid that's been as close as 5 feet of her and clings to her when he thinks we're too busy, and don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been nudging the tension between everyone while going through her things Sky.'

He raised an eyebrow as he looked back at the pale faced skyloftian.

'And you're telling me it's not that bad?'

There wasn't anything the group could say to those (accurate) accusations, Four looked to be visibly restraining himself from hitting him.

...

'...Maybe it's because you all force your presence on her...'

'...What was that?' Four growled out, solid blue eyes snapping up to glare at the speaker.

Wind lifted his head, glaring back at the blacksmith.

'You heard me Blacksmith, or is your attention span as short as your height?' He sneered. 'You all force your presence on her when she wants to be left alone! At least she feels comfortable with me!'

Four sneered back at Wind. 'The way you hog her attention is the very comforting.'

'Hey, I at least GIVE her space! I saw how you yelled at that shopkeeper when he asked if she needed anything-'

'I had to! Didn't you see the way that disgusting bastard-'

...

Legend watched as the group slowly dissolved into chaos. Each hero soon shouting at one another.

This is what he had been worried about for so long, and here was proof that the trust they had between one another is dangerously close to collapsing.

He watched as Twilight was talking coldly to Time, who didn't even have the decency to look ashamed of his choices.

Four and Wind were at each other's throats and Warriors was basically growling at Wild, who was screaming about how he always knew Warriors was keeping y/n away from everyone else.

Sky and Hyrule, who were shouting at each other over what they've been doing.

He needed to get them back on track, so with a deep breath, he whistled as loudly as he could.

He began speaking the moment they all looked at him.

'Well ain't this a beautiful example of shit I've ever seen!'

'Enough Veteran!' Time ordered, speaking up for what seemed the first time since this conversation began.

'You've been doing a good job keeping quiet old man, better get back to being a good boy and let the big people talk.' Legend didn't need to look at Time to know his expression was thunderous.

'All of you acting like little BRATS, ready to play 'it's not my fault, it's YOURS.' A humorless laugh escaping him.

'News flash bastards, IT'S ALL YOUR FAULTS.' His grin was more bearing teeth than a grin.

'None of you are innocent.'

He expected Wild to shout at him, maybe Wind or Sky. Hell, the good captain looked ready to tackle him.

Yet it was Four who jumped to his feet, growling at the Veteran.

The smaller boy slipped away from the hands restraining him, rushing forward and grabbed the taller boy's collar, slamming their foreheads together and hissing, 'Just who the hell do you think you are?!?'

'That's a funny question.' He remarked mockingly, making sure not to show that the head bashing hurt. 'Considering how you seem to think you're in the right.'

Four wasn't pleased by his comment. 'I'll take out anyone that lays a malicious hand on her. How dare you even insinuate that I would let such a thing happen!'

'For someone who sounds so sincere, you have a funny way of showing it.' Legend retorted with gritted teeth, never taking his eyes off the shorter man's.

'Acting like you care but when it matters, you're as blind as the rest of us. That's why she got hurt.'

The others surged forward,

'How dare you-"

'That's not true-'

'Damnit Vet, you can't just-'

'SHE NEARLY DIED DAMNIT!!' He shoved Four back, basically throwing him to the floor, having enough of everyone's nonsense.

Everyone stills at his words.

'SHE'S STILL UNRESPONSIVE!! SHE'S ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF OUR FUCKING RIVALRY!!!' He blazed with impotent rage.

'She's laying in that house, because she got LUCKY. Do you hear me?' He emphasized his point by gesturing in the direction of Wind's house.

'Because had we not gotten our shit together? Had we argued just a moment more? We would have been standing before her GRAVE.'

His face was dark with fury.

'And you have the fucking nerve to tell me I'm in the wrong?' He hissed through clenched teeth.

...

...It is quiet.

The veteran stared right into the blacksmith's eyes, vaguely noticing how it shifted colors rapidly. The way his face twitched, as if physically restraining himself from saying something he would regret.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others frozen in different positions of action.

Some halfway out of their seats, others reaching for the two of them as if to pull them away from each other.

He focused back on Four, noticing his jaw was tightly clenched.

'WE. NEED. HER. ' he said in a firm voice.

This seemed to make him flinch, but Legend wasn't finished. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice a few notches though he was still partly yelling.

'Not the other way around. SHE doesn't need us.' he slowly shook his head as he looked at every one of them.

'She NEVER needed us.'

Four looked away at that.

'We need her more than we need air in our lungs. Need her more strongly than water or food. ' He focused back on Four and pointed at him.

'And you...you think I'm going to let you, let any of you, let MYSELF, lose her because we couldn't control ourselves?' His chuckle was icy, his smile was unpleasant and full of teeth.

'Oh you don't know me as well as I thought. '

'Because allow me to be as clear as possible when I say, I would slaughter anyone that laid a filthy hand on her' Legend leaned forward, smiling coldly. 'Push me enough, and you'll be on the list.'

'Isn't that extreme..?!' Hyrule exclaimed worriedly, looking at Legend with an uncertain expression.

'Oh...so you wouldn't hurt them if they laid a hand on her? You would actually hesitate to tear off limbs if they forced her to go with them. If they dared to speak her like some cheap whore-'

'How could you even say that-!!!'

'That is uncalled for!'

Legend spread his arms out. 'Well you all might as well be saying you would!!'

'Hold your tongue or I'll cut it!' Wild suddenly snarled, Twilight, visibly tense from Legend' words, was forced to put both hands on Wild.

'I bet you would just stand there while they tried, hm? Stand there while she cries for your help?' He kept pushing, because he needed to. 'Just stand there, watching her shed her tears? Stand there and let. them. touch her? Is that what you would do? Answer me.'

'Don't you DARE say such a thing.' Wild growled, his lips drew back in a snarl.

'You all seem so eager in proving me right, I see nothing wrong with saying this if this is how you really feel.' He masked a scowl with a smirk even as the others began to raise their voices again.

'WHAT THE HELL!'

'You miserable pile of-!!'

'JUST TELL ME YOU'RE READY TO ABANDON HER SO I CAN KEEP HER AWAY FROM YOU ALL!!'

'HOW DARE YOU!!' Warriors roared, suddenly on his feet and in Legend's face.

'You think you can accuse us like this, act like you have the high ground, and expect us to sit here and take it?!' Legend didn't even hesitate shoving him away.

'I can accuse you all I want! Whatever friendship we may still have be damned, BECAUSE YOU'RE AS GUILTY AS I AM!!!' Legend shouted, even as the captain grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him up to his face again.

'WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE.'

'I'M ONE WHO'S ACTUALLY TRYING TO FIX THIS MESS!! UNLIKE YOU WHO'S READY TO LET HER END UP AS A CORPSE BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T NOTICE YOU THE WAY YOU WANT HER TO!!'

'You miserable, disrespectful, arrogant-

'STOP ACTING LIKE YOU'RE NOT PART OF THE FUCKING PROBLEM YOU STUPID SOLDIER!!'

'SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!'

'NO! WAKE UP FROM YOUR FUCKING FANTASIES!'

'What gives you the FUCKING RIGHT-'

'BECAUSE I LOVE HER YOU BASTARD!!'

The admittance silenced them swiftly.

But he didn't care at the moment.

He was breathing deeply after saying those words. Face flushed with anger. Fists clenched so tightly, they were bone white.

'I. Love. her.' He hissed to a frozen Warriors.

'I. Need. her.' He grabbed the wrist attached to the had gripping his tunic.

'I. Can't. Lose. Her.' He bared his teeth, slowly shaking his head.

'I won't hesitate.' He voice was a whisper at this point. But it didn't matter. The crackling fire was the only other sound at moment.

'I won't hesitate to kill anyone that takes her away from me.'

...

And that's what he needed them to understand. Needed them to understand that as much as he cared for this group, as much as he's willing to put the effort to fix things...

If they didn't work together?

There would be corpses.

And he wouldn't be one of them.

He wanted to keep screaming at them. Wanted they to hang their heads in shame as he pointed out every flawed thing they've done as of late.

But he..sighed.

'I want..so much.. ' He began, looking straight into Warriors' eyes, a numb sense of calm filling him. 'I want so many impossible things.'

'I want to fall asleep to her peaceful face, and wake up to the sight of her kind smile. I want her to lean against me as she draws, to watch her eyes light up when I show her something new. To see her laugh, hear her hum a tune, to know I'm the reason she glows with happiness.'

He could feel the pale faced captain tremble beneath his grip.

'I want the exact same thing you bastards want...' he took a deep breath, to settle his heart.

'I just want her by my side every single day.'

His voice almost quiet.

'I don't want to lose her.'

Silent stillness enveloped them after Legend had finished speaking, only the sound of the crinkling fire all that was audible at the moment.

Warriors stared at him, swallowing. visibly shaken by the veteran's honesty.

After a beat, Legend slowly pulls the captain's hand off of him.

He was met with no resistance.

He looks at them all. Tired, drained, a headache slowly making itself known.

'So...' he raised an eyebrow, tone dull, 'How about the cook whip us up something.'

Wild blinked, startled by being acknowledged.

'Wha-'

'And while he's at it, our resident healer can check up on our mutual darling.'

Hyrule jolted at the sudden acknowledgment.

'We have a lot to talk about and we can't do it on empty stomachs and worry in our minds.' He grinned sardonically, slowly clapping his hands twice.

'Chop chop people. The night is still young.'

--

--

It took a while for them to speak up after that, because what could one say after such an outburst?

It soothed their hearts when Hyrule returned, saying she was healing nicely. That information helped them calm down while using the time Wild spent cooking to gather their thoughts.

It was difficult to come up with something after the explosive event of earlier.

They were silent when their food was served.

Silent as they ate.

But slowly, very slowly, they did.

Legend pulling the words out of them.

Each grievance, thought and feeling.

It was a snail's pace, but as the Veteran calmly pushed them into speaking, the atmosphere surround the group slowly calmed, the words flowing just a bit easier than before.

'I just don't want her to leave.' Hyrule admitted quietly, looking down at his hands, almost ashamed to admit such a thing.

Warriors sighed. 'I think I speak for all of us when I say the feeling is mutual.'

Murmurs of agreement met his words.

' I don't disagree. It's obvious why, she's...just so kind.' Sky shyly put out, a small blush on his face.

'I mean, when was the last time she even demanded something from any of us?'

Warriors couldn't help but snort. 'I think you mean to say 'when has she ever demanded anything from us?'

'I believe I can answer that.' Time said, speaking up after staying silent for most of the evening.

Four raised an eyebrow. 'Oh, and when was this?'

'When she and I got separated, I injured my leg fighting the Lynel? Back in Legend's era I believe it was.'

'I remember that!' Wind piped in, snapping his fingers and pointing at Time. 'In the lost woods! She was tugging your ear when I reached you guys!'

Time nodded with a chuckle, resting his chin on his hand.

'Got quite the lecture too. She can be...quite stern when pushed enough.'

' That was the first time she saw one of us fight a Lynel wasn't it...' Twilight realized, blinking in comprehension. 'I can't believe I forgot that. She must have been terrified witnessing such a thing.

'Ah, but that was the thing. She was calm when she saw me kill it.'

'So she has thicker skin than an average civilian.' Legend sighed. 'Impressive but not that surprising.'

'Don't get me wrong Vet, she was quite unnerved when she saw the battle but once it was over and she saw my injury, I was the main focus.' He looked down, almost unaware that he was touching the place where the injury once was.

'She could have gone to get one of you guys, I knew she heard you calling out to us, we both did, but she stayed.' He smirked then, 'Pulled out a couple of red potions from her bag too.'

He had the group looking at him in surprise.

'Wait, potions?'

'Who gave her a potion?'

'Wars, was it you?'

'I would remember that!'

'Well well, isn't she well prepared.'

'Looks like she's paying attention to the Vet's paranoia!'

'Ha ha, such flattery.'

'Did she buy a few in town before we swapped eras?'

'Actually she has a stash of them in the event of one of us becoming injured and she's the only one around.' Time interjected, one of his amused grins on his face.

That brought another round of questions.

'She knows how to make potions?!'

'No Wind, we would have seen her.'

'It's not something that could be hidden either.'

'And where did she get the money to buy enough potions?'

'When'd she have the time to even get potions??'

'My question is, how did we not see her get the potions?'

' Did she tell you?' Time snorted softly as the last question was directed at him.

'Matter of fact, yes. Clever answer too, know all those 'silly bets' she got us to agree to?'

He waited for them to nod. ' Well, she's been stashing every rupee she's won from us specifically to buy 'emergency potions'. He answered with a breathy chuckle. 'As for when? She's been buying them from Beedle when we were at stables. And since we also give her money to buy herself stuff...'

'None of us would be the wiser.' Legend finished for him.

'You're serious aren't you...' Warriors couldn't help but say.

'Absolutely.' Time nodded, not able to suppress a grin when he realised the captain's tone was admiring.

'She looked so embarrassed, thought I would be upset with her for ' sneaking behind our backs'. Tried to justify it by saying it 'felt stupid to be the only one in the group who wasn't prepared for some type of emergency.'' A round of chuckles emerged from the group as they all imagined the expression on her face.

'When she saw my injury, she immediately pulled out the potions from her pouch, didn't even pause in shoving a few into my hands and asking me how much pain I was in.' He smiled at the memory. 'That's when I made the foolish mistake of telling her to leave me there and go find one of you.'

' And you lived to tell the tale?' Warriors asked, smirking widely.

'Barely, the glare I receive was quite fierce.' Time didn't even bother to hold the laughter down, still remembering how startled he had been, having such a glare directed at him.

'Like a raging Goddess, she demanded I take better care of myself, or face mothering the likes of which I never saw before.' He looked exasperated, yet his voice was the definition of amused.

' She then proceeded to baby talk me until I agreed.'

Time was not ashamed as the group roared with laughter.

'Are you serious?'

'Poor man!' Warriors reached over and clapped a hand on the older man's shoulder.

'Oh, THAT must have been uncomfortable!' Sky commented between breaths.

' I barely lasted a few sentences before I was pleading for mercy.' He rolled his eyes and huffed through his nose.

'So THAT'S why you were so careful in battle the weeks after.' Hyrule realized, grinning as Time shrugged.

'When I'm threatened with something like THAT? How can I do anything else but obey?'

Wars held his hands up in a shrug, smirk on his face. 'Ah but who are we to question Her divine command?'

'Who are we indeed..' Time murmured with a breathy laugh.

Wild smirked, eyes glinting with glee. 'Speaking of her doing things we don't expect, Vet! Remember when she met Wolfie?'

Legend smirked, even as Twilight send a glare at the cook. 'Rather brave of her, despite never being near an actual wolf before. '

Sky frowned. 'But didn't she look nervous?' Twilight sighed as Legend and Wild let out a laugh.

' You would think! But she apparently didn't want to break any unspoken rules about touching him.' Wild couldn't resist the sharp grin as he eyed the embarrassed rancher. 'You should have seen her when she was given the okay. I'm surprised the mutt was able to escape her constant pets and kisses.'

Twilight wasn't able to keep the blush down when Wind grumbled a very clear 'Lucky bastard.' To the amusement of everyone else, especially those who knew his secret.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the sound of the waves a song that filled their ears, the wind playing with their hair as they got lost in thought.

'...Go and bring peace to Hyrule.'

They looked at Wild, he was looking at the sea. 'Every time I went to one of those statues, that's what Hylia would tell me.'

He dug his boot into the sand. 'She would heal me up when I had enough spirit orbs, fill me with vitality, but every time she finished, she would always say those same words.' He grimaced

'And every time, I would think, 'is she healing me because cares, or because I'm just a means to an end?''

Wild shooked his head, never taking his eyes off the sea.

'Even though I've fought evil for her sake. For Zelda's sake. I always felt like she wanted more.' He grimaced.

“I don’t even know what more I could have given…” He admitted, “Always thinking that I’ll one day wake up and realize that I was fated to sacrifice more.'

Then a small smile pulled at his lips, 'But when I'm with (y/n)...I don't feel that weight of responsibility...the weight of those thoughts.' His words were barely above a whisper by the end.

'With her...I feel free.'

For several moments, there was stillness. Watch of them could feel the bite of the ocean breeze on their skin, the heat of the campfire barely able to hold off the chill and darkness surrounding them.

"She said she was proud of me..' Wild whispered, "Said that every breath I took, every moment I opened my eyes to greet the day, was rebellion against what destiny, what Ganon, had wanted.'

'She saw me, a failure of a hero, and said she was proud of me,' He whispered, unable to trust himself with anything louder. 'How could I possibly love another when she says such things with so much honesty?'

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

'How could I go on, following Hylia's command blindly, when (y/n) comes to me with those kind eyes and says She just wants me to be happy?'

'Hylia does not want champions.' Time shook his head, smirking bitterly. 'She merely wants toy soldiers.'

Sky's eyes flew up to the look at eldest of the group.

'Surely that's a bit much, Hylia..has done what she could for us.'

'Who is Hylia? A being who seeks soldiers to clean up her mess? A being who only expects us to obey?' Time interjected.

Sky swallowed. 'But..she's assisted us-'

Time shook his head. 'No, she simply made sure we survived long enough to eliminate her enemies.'

Wild frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. 'When you think about it, he's right. We have never worshiped Hylia because we wanted to. But because we were obligated to. Because most of us were raised to believe it was an honor.'

He looked at Sky. 'But...isn't a goddess of benevolence supposed to be someone who is kinder than a mortal could comprehend? Someone who cares for her servants for no other reason than because we love her as much as she loved us?'

Twilight smiled bitterly. 'A goddess like that is someone I wouldn't mind serving. '

'Isn't that why we love Her so?' Legend said softly.

Warriors looked at him oddly. '(y/n) isn't a goddess Legend.'

Legend looked at him with carefully impassive expression. 'But we want her to be.'

They all looked anywhere but at him.

'You've all already admitted it. Even if you don't want to say it.' Legend smirked.

'Vet-'

''Who are we to question Her divine command?'' He repeated, smirking when the captain's mouth snapped shut.

'We all want her to be.' Legend repeated, catching Hyrule's eye and staring him down.

-Admit it.- His eyes said. Hyrule flinching at being seen through. Wanting to deny the silent accusation.

...But his heart wouldn't let him deny such a thing either.

'...(y/n) would make a better goddess than hylia.' He admitted, looking down.

Sky snap his attention to the traveler, his eyes slightly wide.

'Hyrule-' Legend cut Sky off, looking right at the skyloftian.

'Can you deny that she's already better than hylia?' Sky seemed to struggle with an answer, but Legend didn't wait for an answer.

'Is She not kinder, sweeter, more beautiful than anyone else? She never asks for anything other than our safety and happiness. Becomes upset when we try to do more than we can handle and tries to actually help us whenever she can. '

Twilight sighed, but nodded in agreement. 'Her presence is like a soothing warmth that never falters. I don't think I've ever had someone who's presence relieved me the way Hers does.'

He grimaced. 'Not even Hylia herself can claim such a thing.'

A glance at Sky, causing him to grimace and look away.

'Someone with a beautiful soul like Hers...' Hyrule whispered, folding his hands in front of his chest, almost like he was praying.

'I..I could worship someone like Her everyday without regret.' He looked away, as if shameful of his admittance.

'..What's wrong with that?' Hyrule looked at who spoke.

'Wars?'

Warriors did not look at him, staring at the ground. But his face had shifted into an expression of thoughtfulness. 'What's wrong with wanting to worship her? '

Hyrule's face flushed red. '..it...it seems a bit inappropriate to-'

'Because we're supposed to worship Hylia?' He looked up at him. 'Farore? Nayru? Din?'

'...I-'

Wind frowned, looking around. ' Why can't we worship who we desire? Worship someone we CAN trust?'

Twilight bit his lip, shaking his head. 'That's too much of a dream to even CONSIDER-'

Legend barked a laugh.

'Dreams are only dreams until we make them a reality.'

'...!' He chuckled at the shocked looks he received from most of them.

'You said it better than I ever could Hyrule. Someone with as beautiful of a soul as Her's is someone we could worship everyday of our lives without regret.'

'But we can't-'

'Why? Because we're Hylia's 'Champions'? I don't know if you remember this, but we've done our duties, defeated Ganon and the only reason I'll not complaining about THIS journey anymore is because it brought us Her.'

'Legend-'

'And don't we in a way worship her already?'

Wild tilted his head. 'What do you mean?'

He raised a finger, 'Don't we find joy in caring for her? Providing for her? Is that not paying tribute?' A second finger, 'Don't we defend her when danger is near? Cutting down every enemy that come near her? Is that not raising our swords in her name?'

He leaned forward, A manic glint flashing in his eyes. A third finger was raised. 'Do we not find joy when she whispers our name, do we not find peace when we whisper Hers? Is that not devotion? Tell me otherwise and I'll concede.'

But no one said anything.

No one wanted to.

Because they agreed with his words so much.

'She deserves someone to protect her...' Hyrule whispered, as if to himself, as if to convince himself to listen to the words being spoken to him.

'She deserves US to protect Her.' Legend corrected, his smile was all teeth, but it wasn't malicious.

'We've defeated literal evil. We're the best people to protect Her.' Wind added, his eyes matching the Veteran's. Soon matching the eyes of all of them.

'And doesn't She deserve the very best, after everything She's done for us?' Legend spread his arms out, smirk on his face. Sky smiled, looking at his hands, laughing softly, shaking his head.

'I...suppose you're right...' he slowly admitted, his shoulder releasing tension, almost relieved.

'I..can't see anyone else providing for her the way we can.'

'We have the resources...' Four slowly added, a note of mania woven through the blacksmith's words, 'We have much sway in our eras and what we don't have, I'm reasonably sure we know someone who can provide it for us.'

'We've faced more than enough adversaries to be able to counter any situation.' Warriors smirked, sitting back, arms crossed.

'The safest place is with us.' Time said, a sense of finality in his words.

And for the first time in so long, they all were united with such a decision.

It didn't matter if there wasn't a drop of divinity in her.

It didn't matter if she wasn't able to use magic or blessed by any spirit.

She was not a goddess in the way they knew. But only a fool would deny the beautiful divinity that radiated from Her heart.

She was Divine to them.

A presence that was not unlike an ocean of warmth that wanted to drown them in love and safety.  Eager to drive them mad, to drive them to protect Her happiness.

And they would drown in that ocean willingly.

She didn't even realize what she was doing to them.

She didn't realize that the very person She was was causing them to crave Her gentle touch, Her beautiful smiles, Her arms wrapped around them.

She didn't realize any of this.

Because it was as natural as breathing to Her.

How many times was Her kindness going to steal the breath from their lungs?

How many times was Her gentle voice going to soothe them when they wake from their nightmares, Her hands wiping the tears from their face?

How many times will they crave the chance to kiss away Her tears but only be able to brush them aside.

But it was alright.

They loved Her so much.

A Goddess of their own making.

One that they would worship freely, not like how obligation and duty forced their hand with Hylia.

Hylia demanded their loyalty.

(y/n) merely asked for their continued happiness.

Hylia commanded they fight in her name.

(y/n) requested they remained safe and healthy.

Hylia wanted heroes.

(y/n) wanted only them.

She wanted them.

She trusted them.

She cared for them.

She was the one they wanted to serve.

They fulfilled their duties to Hylia.

They no longer were obligated to serve her.

But (y/n)...She was so fragile compared to the rest of them. Having lived in a world with no monsters, no calamities or destiny.

She needed to be protected.

She needed them to protect Her.

They were the only ones who could protect Her.

They needed to unite. To stand side by side, as a shield against the monsters, against anyone that would dare take Her from them.

They couldn't fight amongst themselves anymore.

They couldn't allow Her to come to harm ever again.

All this time wasted fighting when they could have been protecting Her. Making her happy. Keeping her safe. How foolish of them.

But no longer.

To protect their Reason for breathing, there could be no room for trickery or lies between each other. Only for those that stood between them and Her.

The sun was rising, washing away the rivalries and dissonance of the past night, and the rays of dawn shining upon renewed unity and brotherhood.

She is their's; a Gift that pure chance had bestowed upon them.'

They would protect Her. Together.

They would protect their Goddess.

No one will ever take Her away from them.

No One.

[maxwell-grant]

Ask Round-Up: June

Hi there! Got some time to spare so I figured I’d kick this one off first thing in the month,. A couple of points, as usual

-Happy Pride Month!

-I posted a video on Twitter recently dubbing a comic Dan Schkade did, and I’m linking it here to announce that I do intend to use my Twitter for stuff soon (mostly when I do start “The Grim Screen” proper, which is the name of that big mystery project I keep alluding to, and where the characters in my profile pictures come from). I’m still figuring out how I wanna use social media to share and promote my work in a way that isn’t more grating than it’s worth, I need to start trying new things, this being one of them. 

-It’s COLD-AS-SHIT here in Brazil, we’ve been getting hit with some of the absolute coldest days in the country’s history, honestly reminded me of when I spent some weeks in London during a winter. Getting raised in a tropical country absolutely does not prepare you for that kind of shit, especially when coats (and clothes in general) your size tend to be stupidly expensive. And COVID’s spiking again to the point most people can no longer pretend this pandemic ever ended. 

-I picked a stray cat off the garbage over a month ago and, after trying every available option to see if someone could take care of her, running a ton of tests and taking her to vets and looking after her in our studio, we ended up giving up on pretending we weren’t gonna adopt her. Currently in the process of moving her to our home and getting our house cat to adjust to the new presence and it’s, a work in progress. 

-Still massively busy due to musical theater, currently trying to get enough time to finish my resume and start looking for work elsewhere. 

-Currently caught between several juggling acts that have only gotten exponentially worse and more stressful since the first draft of this post but nevermind let’s go:

@jcogginsa asked:  So we just got a new Street Fighter VI Gameplay Trailer, with what seems to be a fairly massive change to the series' gameplay

If anything, the gameplay seems to be the least changed aspect of it, or maybe it’s just the one I’m noticing the least because, frankly I don’t care about gameplay that much, but, wow, color me genuinely impressed with what they’ve shown so far. Just, Christ, this is what a major step forward finally feels like, not some faux-Alpha soft reboot or all-stars compilathon, no, they really are serious about taking Street Fighter to the future. Ryu, I already remarked at being pleased with them allowing Ryu to mature and change his outfit and role, but I’m far more impressed that they’re clearly letting Chun-Li follow suit as well, getting a slight visual overhaul (sort of a lightly-colored combination of her two key designs, SF2 and Alpha, with a characterization that seems to be building off her Third Strike era and a handful of new details like the change in bracelets and more exposed forehead to cement her maturity) and getting to show off a little as a teacher in the trailer. It feels nice to have good things to say about the direction they’re taking Chun-Li as a character (and oh thank god she’s got a new voice actor, I never liked Laura Bailey’s voice for her, this game really is spoiling me). 

They even got me onboard with having Luke stick around as the MC! Yeah, color me fucking shocked, but when he doesn’t look as much like Logan Paul a grotesque eyesore with a superfluous personality and he looks like a character that actually belongs in this world, and he gets a very neat-looking rival character to play off, yeah, I’m onboard with him. Really liked Jaime, too, I think he really sets a new standard for SF character design quite nicely, I like that just from a glance he pays homage to a lot of SF archetypes while very clearly being his own character (to a better extent than Luke, who seems to have been designed with the same idea in mind), love that he’s Street Fighter’s first take on the “drunken master” archetype except he’s not just a hokey old cliche but instead a fresh new spin on the archetype. This is what Street Fighter made it’s name on, this is what it should always be doing. 

Also saw that most of the starting roster was leaked a while ago, a couple of comments on that: I love that none of the OG World Warriors are coming back without some form of redesign, in particular I love Blanka’s new clothes and E.Honda looks cooler than ever. Not a fan of them finally being cowards enough to give Zangief pants but, fine, they are clearly scaling down the cartooniness of the prior installments, I get why the speedo had to go. Glad they kept Dhalsim’s beard while reverting back his bald head and, changing his necklace? Interesting. Very interested in what the hell’s going on with Ken, fucker looks more divorced with every new installment, kinda surprised that it’s Ken who looks like he’s got his shit together a lot less than Ryu this time around / and uh, I wrote this post before it was apparently leaked that Ken actually is divorced? The fuck? Curious to see how that goes.

LOVE LOVE LOVE GOUKI’S NEW LOOK, holy shit this is what he should have looked like in SFV to begin with, fuck, finally they made a redesign for him that doesn’t suck. Love that they seem to have incorporated one of the concept ideas they had for him for SFV, which was to have him wear the fur of a bear he killed, into his main design, because that is 100% a Gouki thing to do and it works masterfully with the lion / wildman imagery he’s already got going on.

Funny, I was JUST thinking the other day if they were ever gonna bring Dee Jay back and if they did, they were definitely gonna have to redesign him and tone down everything that made him look like a grotesque racist caricature or, at least, change it so that he doesn’t stick out as much compared to the other characters, which it seems like they did, I’m actually kinda shocked over how much I like how he looks now, he’s like 100 times better. I always did like Dee Jay’s concept as a fun-loving musician who, unlike the other characters, really was just in it to have fun, and I like that he actually looks the part now. LOVE that they brought Rashid back and redesigned him to look sexier, actually, I like that they seem to be a lot more willing to let the dudes look explicitly hot this time around at a similar and show more skin while the female characters look like they were made with looking cool as a priority over looking like someone’s fetish (might retract this statement depending on how Laura or Mika look like if they make it to the game).

Juri was obviously gonna come back, but I definitely prefer this look over the SFV bodysuit, not surprised Ed’s back but am mildly interested with where they’re taking him lore-wise. The new characters look a little samey and, to an extent they kinda look a little more like Tekken characters (but then again the whole aesthetic of this game reminds me a lot of Tekken), but I definitely like their look, and I definitely think they are gonna make a vastly better batch of newcomers than what IV and V had. I’m particularly interested in Marisa, JP, Kimberly and Aki. So, yeah, I’m definitely on board with where this game is heading. 

Anonymous asked:  Do you have any interest in seeing other parts of South America?

Sure. Already traveled through quite a bit of it, but I always wanna travel more, traveling’s one of my favorite things to do. Unfortunately it’s also terribly expensive even besides the whole, cough, pandemic. But, yeah, I definitely miss traveling. 

Anonymous asked:  Excluding pastiche of the character like Swam, what is your favourite version of the phantom of the opera ?

Come to think of it I, don’t think I actually have one? My favorite Phantoms are the ones I make myself out of extensively curating and Frankensteining together the dozens and dozens of existing Phantoms, sort of like The Shadow but to a much greater extent since there’s hundreds of Phantom of the Opera stories out there and the character’s public domain. I guess for me it’s not so much particular “versions” of the character, so much as it’s particular ideas. 

I love Leroux’s Erik, I think the resolution to his story is still pretty unsurpassed (except by the one depicted in the short story “Beauty and the Opéra, or The Phantom Beast” by Suzy McKee Charnas, that one has by far the best take I’ve read yet on the Phantom x Christine relationship), I find myself lately appreciating a lot how remarkably childish and darkly humorous he’s written to be, way more than you’d ever expect the original take on The Phantom to be. I like Lon Chaney’s Phantom likewise for the humor and classic villainy he has fun with, particularly in his final scene. I like Ken Hill’s Phantom for similar reasons and he’s probably my favorite of the on-stage Phantoms I’ve seen or heard (I have some more, mixed, feelings for the ALW version, I wrote like a massive report on it recently so I don’t feel like talking about it for now). 

I love how BATSHIT HORRIFYING the Phantom of Althea Liu’s Christine is, I really like some of the ideas at play in the Charles Dance version (not a wholly satisfying take but, there’s some ideas in there I like, and honestly being played by Charles Dance does go a long way in at least getting my attention). I love how he’s drawn in the MAZM game (hadn’t had a chance to check it in full yet) and I have some other favorite artistic renditions of him by artists like Greg Hildebrandt, Kyu Ha and Anne Bachelier, to quote a few among many. I have a LOT of space in my files devoted to cataloguing Phantom media and anything adjacent to it as a reference point, I go through them every now and then whenever I start thinking about the kinds of Phantoms I want to create.

Honorable mention right now goes also to the Cosmos Takarazuka Phantom played by Yoka Wao. I’ve never been remotely able to witness this play, there’s no records of it I can find online outside of this terrific review penned by @ancientphantom​, but reading that immediately shot this up into becoming one of my absolute favorite takes on the character to read about or imagine (reading that, during Christine’s debut, this version of The Phantom broke the 4th wall by actually going offstage to the orchestra pit in order to personally conduct the orchestra went a long way in making this my favorite show that I’ll never get to watch, seriously, what a brilliant usage of the character). 

@thedeathalchemist asked:  Since you are doing musical theater, do you have any favorite musicals (can be both stage and film)?

Actually not that many, especially when it comes to stage since music theater shows tend to be terribly expensive. This might seem weird coming off the previous ask, and the fact that I did this big writing assignment on it, but I don’t actually consider the ALW Phantom among them (it’s, weird, the history I have with that play, but I don’t dislike it though). Among the ones that come to mind would be The Lion King (I was a little young to “get” the worship people have for Lion King when I watched the movie, but the play definitely instilled that impression on me), and Morte e Vida Severina gets a very strong recommendation from me.

For film, definitely my number one pick would be Phantom of the Paradise, followed by Little Shop of Horrors and The Prince of Egypt, and now Descendants 2. I watched the whole Descendants trilogy recently and I definitely have a lot of thoughts on it, but Descendants 2 in particular is shockingly good, trust me, it’s worth putting up with the first movie (not bad but, not terribly interesting) to get to it. Speaking of Descendants, I also gotta put it’s older sibling High School Musical here, mainly for 2 and 3 (my favorites being, every number done by Sharpay or Ryan across all three films, the “Troy has a mental breakdown” songs, and “The Boys are Back”, which almost kinda redeems Chad for a second). I also really liked The Happiness of the Katakuris which is, kind of a musical, it’s kind of a whole bunch of things but I don’t remember enough of it to talk more of it. Otherwise I’m not terribly familiar with musicals enough to have a proper list. Get back to me after I’m done with musical theater and that might change.

@krinsbez asked:  So, apparently, Dan Schkade has posted a list of "Batman Hot Takes" which includes Alfred being a retired Shadow. Thoughts?

Not something I would write personally in my takes on either character, but I like it primarily because Dan’s reasoning of “He goes from The Master to a servant, shaping the next generation” is a rock-solid foundation for where The Shadow should go as a character if he were to actually “retire” for real. I’d seen this idea of his a while back and actually, this was kind of a crucial puzzle piece that went into my thought process for my “The Shadow meets Cassandra Cain” post, I was wracking my head thinking of ways for these hardline incompatible characters could co-exist or work together and then I found this on his tweets and stuff just kinda clicked together. It made perfect sense. 

I also like it because Alfred already kind of embodies a “prior generation” of crimefighter in how usually he’s written to reference James Bond, and because Alfred’s generally a character who already carries some kind of mystery and intrigue in his backstory, part of what makes him work as an all-timer anciliary character comes from us not knowing much about his life other than the myriad of skillsets he once had as the most awesome man on the planet and how that life culminated in him eventually becoming the right-hand man to the current most awesome man on the planet. The Batman crossovers even kinda played around with the idea of The Shadow effortlessly being able to become Alfred even without Bruce noticing.

You could make a very good point based on how well this gap in Alfred’s past fits with the existing gap in The Shadow’s post-1949 future, how seamlessly you could make it so one ends where the other begins, and besides, Alfred’s main vocation besides butler is often established to be that of an actor, which is almost 90% of the time in fiction code for “this character isn’t what they say they are / don’t trust everything they say”. Is it really that unbelievable that Alfred was just, one in a million other names in a lifetime of fighting against evil by adopting different monikers and identities?

Again, not something I’d go for or establish “canonically”, largely because I don’t want The Shadow to be tied down to Batman more than he’s already perceived to be publicly, but the logic and thematic worth here is quite sound.

Anonymous asked:  Related to that last question, which fighting game franchise has your favorite lore, and/or the lore that you would most want someone to expand on in another type of work?

Besides the two big ones I already talk about on the regular (Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat), definitely Capoeira Fighter, created by Scott Stoddard (who you can see above in the line-up, as he jokingly inserted himself into the game as a character called “Maionese”, portuguese word for mayo, I was frankly surprised to learn he was North-American). I’ve known about it for a long while but it was only recently that I started doing some looking into it and it’s character designs, and I’m only just now discovering that the creator of this was also the creator of Mad Shark and Robot Unicorn Attack, and the only social media he seems to have is his Youtube channel. Looking up Capoeira Fighter and it’s creator company, Spiritonin, nets you basically just dead pages and zombie pages still up that don’t work anymore because the game was made for Flash, so, yeah, it’s hard to even call Capoeira Fighter a franchise when it largely consists of mostly tech demos and one game that is pretty much gone unless you look for it in BlueMaxima’s Flashpoint.  Capoeira Fighter 3 does look a lot more polished and boasts a lot more than could ever be feasibly expected from a flash fighting game, including an interactive Arcade Mode where you can make choices that affect your character’s storyline. 

I regret that I didn’t get to play Capoeira Fighter 3 before the death of Flash, because looking it up makes me frustrated. There’s quite a lot to like here. This is absolutely a series that I would love to see get a proper shot under the sun with a budget and some more polish (gameplay definitely could use some work still), there’s a lot of incredible stuff here.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fighting game, or even a game really, where I look at the characters and recognize not just the pop culture archetypes they draw from, but I also recognize people in them, real people I’ve met. Both of it’s main masters, Mestre Loka and Mestre Rochedo, are opposites and yet they both look unmistakably like real fighting masters and people I’ve trained under (Loka in particular). You see the Muay Thai girl in the image above, named Chompoo? Not only is she the 2nd woman in fighting games who uses Muay Thai, but she’s the only one who actually looks like it (King is by leaps and bounds my favorite of the SNK girls but she’s evidently not dressed for combat), but she actually kinda reminds me of my teacher’s wife (the absolute scariest person I’ve ever seen fight Muay Thai, not even joking, he loves talking about her and showing me videos of his tiny and lovely and terrifying wife tearing down opponents twice her size in the ring), I bring this up because this game's authenticity absolutely deserves praise as well as it's character design. Look at the other two characters above, Ramba and Buldogue, and I’m gonna post this excerpt from BigMex’s article on it that better summarizes the two and part of what is so great about this game:

The diversity of the characters could not be understated. There were 15 unique capoeiristas, in addition there were 13 other "World Warrior" type characters that represented other fighting styles like Muay Thai, Tae Kwon Do and boxing. It was not the sheer number that made the game unique but instead the showcase of figures. 

 In other fighting games, the playable characters were always roughly the same size and body type. They never had an ounce of fat on them, and were never too short or tall. Capoeira Fighter 3 had every skin color and body type that a person could imagine. The various tones and shades of skin suggested that several characters were of mixed marriages, mulatto or even native. 

There was a character that reflected just about every type of gamer there was, including the young and old. None of them seemed feeble when competing against fighters in their prime. 

Very few games, before or after, had put as many minority characters in the roster. Very few games had ever put minorities in prominent roles for the accompanying story. The lineup featured tall, skinny, fat, short, muscular and average build body types. Even the heroic Mestres could not have been more opposite

Ramba had actually been away from competition because she was busy at the university. She was asked by Mestre Loka to look after his students. She reluctantly agreed as it would be a good excuse to get away from law school for a moment. 

Along the way, Ramba met Buldogue and offered her a better life. Ramba knew that Buldogue was a strong fighter, but had never been given an opportunity outside of the roda (fighting circle). Buldogue had been used as hired muscle by other characters in the game and Ramba wanted to get her out of that life. She knew that the bruiser was actually respected by the community, especially the poor that lived in the favela or ghetto. 

If she were able to get an education and become known for something other than fighting, then Buldogue could become an inspiration for other women trapped by their situation. Players were given a choice whether to team up Ramba and Buldogue or to play solo. The purpose of Ramba in the game was not to beat the main villain, but instead to help guide those in need. 

If players completed the game solo, then Ramba learned what she was really fighting for. She earned her degree, but decided to open her own firm to help the less fortunate. If she teamed up with Buldogue, she became a mentor and enrolled her in school, while still working double-duty as a lawyer.

Strong, positive, dynamic, interesting minority female characters that didn't need to flash skin to get noticed? There had been few and far between for over 25 years. Designers in Japan and the US had lost focus on how they could introduce new faces without relying on pandering or stereotype. 

Characters could color the perception of gamers after all. When done in a positive light they could stop perpetuating stereotypes. Capoeira Fighter 3 had set a standard that would be hard for many developers to follow.

And, man, do I wish Capoeira Fighter 3 actually did set a standard to be followed by the bigger fighting game studios, especially in how they approach black or Brazilian characters. It’s hard going back to those now, seeing a different standard as to what they could be like. So many franchises these days are getting unexpected revivals or glow-ups, I would absolutely be onboard to see Capoeira Fighter get this kind of treatment or to even write and conceive stuff for it myself.

Maybe 2D fighting games have gone with the wind again (platform fighters seem to be growing more as the new rage) but, man, it would break my heart to see this be forgotten, and it very easily could have been. I absolutely do not want this to go the way so many other flash games did, I think Capoeira Fighter's truly remarkable and I would love to see it be revived in some form (or maybe I should just finally take a crack at game design already and make my own fighting games, who knows).

[softcallofdutyimagines]

any safehouse crew x bell!reader headcanons? can be fluffy or angsty, whichever you prefer to write 🥺 i adore your work!

Aw, thank you!! Yeah, I'd love to share to some headcannons! These are sort of a mixed bag regarding fluff/angst, but I think they're mostly nicey-nicey :)

Sorry for your wait, but I hope you enjoy 💖

Adler

His relationship with you is such a tangled mess

He shouldn't even be doing this, not after all he's done to you and is still doing, but...

He just can't help but fall for you

Your memories of being with him during the war may be fake, but to you they're all too real

You know him better then anyone else, maybe even more then Sims

This whole thing started because you wanted to get to know him, to fill in the gaps and to continue growing the bond that only exists in your mind

Every day he struggles with the knowledge that what he's doing is wrong, along with the constant badgering about it from Hudson, Sims, and Park

But he's never felt this close, let alone wanted, by someone in his entire life

There'll come a day when the lid blows right off all this and explodes in his face for sure

Just... Not yet, he hopes

Hudson

If there's one person here who should not be getting involved with you... It's him

Adler and Park may be your handlers, but he's the one overseeing the entire operation

You wouldn't even be here if he hadn't passed down the orders from the higher ups

If there's nothing else you take away from this, he would have you know that there is much, much more at risk here then his mere job if he was found messing around with you

Hudson tried everything to resist you

You and your charming voice

You and your beguiling looks

You and your kindness and patient soul

His will was strong, but the flesh is oh so weak

No one has ever treated him like you do

Just an ounce of respect and a surprising, never ending stream of kindness...

What else is a lonely man to do?

Adler and Park know nothing, this is a term you both agreed on

And they never will, because as soon as your work here is done...

He will stop at nothing to keep you safe

Lazar

He knows, he knows...

He should be doing this

But damn it if you aren't just so... Loveable

Lazar has a big heart that just bursting at the seams with love to give

You'd think such a friendly fellow would be popular in the dating pools, but...

It would seem not so

He'll be honest, he was going to make moves towards Park...

Mostly because, between the two of you, she wasn't strictly off limits

But you were his first choice

And when Helen shut him down, well...

Why not at least try?

He never expected you to actually take to him

He deals with constant reprimands, but he dismisses them every time

No one knows what it's like to be so full of love and have no one to give it too

And now that he has you...

He'll be damned if anyone tries to take you away from him

Mason

Geez... All Mason wants is a stable relationship with someone who loves him and has the grit to see past his flaws

He's been taking his meds and seeing his psych, but the numbers and mind jacking still bother him

In fact, they very well might for the rest of his life

He feels so broken

So unlovable and far too damaged to even be an option for anyone else out there

So... Why are you so interested in him?

At first he brushes it off as a star struck kid, and maybe, at first it was, but then...

Things start to get serious

He meet up with you after work hours

You both get to talking and relating to one another through your memories of warfare and the current mission

You tell him you've seen plenty of things just as crazy as what's going on with him, and people that are twice that bad

He doesn't scare you, not one bit

Acceptance is all he's ever wanted, and to have found it in you feels better then anything he ever could've dreamed of

He falls for you so hard, he rarely let's you out of his sight and tries to get on as many of your missions as possible

Park

This whole op is a well oiled machine and she's the one driving it

Hudson and Adler may act like they're in charge, but they'd be nothing without her helping to hold them and you in line

She's a woman of rules, decorum, and conduct

There's a way to do things and a way not to, simple as that

And yet for all that, she still cannot understand how she's fallen in with you

She should be holding you at arms length at best, and yet here she is stealing kisses and playing with your hair when no one is looking

Maybe she's too much of a sucker for a good forbidden romance story

Or maybe there's always been something in you that's spoken to her from the beginning

A certain way you carry and conduct yourself

So brave and strong...

The kind of person she aspires to be, deep down...

Soon she starts saying things like "what's the worst that could happen" and "no one has to know"

And before long, she knows she could never let you go

When this mission is over, she swears to set you free from the mental prison and living hell she helped put you in, no matter the outcome for your relationship

She loves you too much to see you suffer

Sims

He has the exact same problem as Adler

You know him too damn well

Except... You don't really know him at all, huh?

It takes him so long to wrap his mind around that one...

But the more and more you keep coming to him, asking about things like 'Nam and his time in the war...

The more and more that line becomes muddled

How much have you been programmed to know, and how much did you learn naturally, just from getting to know him?

It's hard being a Vietnam vet you know...

Everyone blames you for the loss of the war, and no one wants much to do with a soldier in general, he guesses

Too much of a headache when you could just get a nice, normal person, right?

But old Vietnam vets get lonely too you know...

So you know what? Who gives a damn

This whole thing with you and mk ultra was screwed from the start, and who knows where the end will take you

If nothing else, if not even for his own benefit, he may as well give you the respect enough to enjoy a little fling

He treats it seriously. Very seriously.

He even grows to truly love you

Maybe that's why he's so scared for you

Woods

Here's a man who'd go his whole life proclaiming he'll never settle down and had no interest in doing so

He's a lone wolf, a life long solider, and far too fucked up for a stable relationship anyhow

At least... That's what he'll say

The truth is he yearns for what Mason and Hudson have

A happy little family and cozy home to protect and care for

He wants to feel needed, wanted even

And he'll never get that from long hours at the practice range and lonely weekend nights spent in his living room

He takes the same approach as Mason would at first

He brushes you off as a starry eyed fan and nothing more

But you know... He's never had anyone care enough to be a "fan" before

Alex laughs at him and keeps saying he's letting his ego get to his head, but what the fuck does he know?

He's got all that shit with the numbers and reznov stuck in his head, and yet he still has someone to go home to each night

So he does it, he gets involved with you

And it's the best damn feeling in the whole world

He loves you relentlessly and soon finds he can't bear to be away from you for too long

Mason will never let him life it down, but you know what?

He's just fine with that

[sashi-ya]

Vampire!Law or werewolf!Law?

Hi, hi! I used to be obsessed with vampires back then. Never seen/read Twilight, though. But still. I didn't know if you wanted something NSFW, so I included some, not that explicit just in case. I hope you like it ♥. I loved the prompt so I'd probably be extending this story, perhaps with more OS someday!.

Vampire! Law x Reader.

Countryside town AU. No gender description. Everybody is 18+. No spoilers. TW: Blood. Slightly hurted animals. Kind of blood play. Soft NSFW. WC: 4.4K AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31552169

Drawing done using a base from: deviantart.com/shadow-bases

It’s a cold night, puffs of steamy air coming out from your mouth as you quickly walk to your parents’ house. The moon shines in between foggy clouds that cover a dark sky. You regret the moment when you accepted going out, plus everything around seems a little threatening. You are used to the city you were living in until now, and somehow forgot the feeling of living in your hometown. But, your old friends wanted to see you, and you couldn’t just say no.

The old town you were born in seemed to have never evolved. Since the day you left your parents’ house and moved to campus in the big city, the town has preserved its own style, the same houses, the same old shops.

Reddish dried leaves crunches under your feet, and some crickets sing in the dark. You grab your phone just to check the hour. 00:00. You are a little bit tired; you’ve been driving the whole day to get there, but even though you were exhausted your old friends insisted on celebrating your comeback to the nest.

You are about to get to your house, when a sudden noise creeps the hell out of you, but you realize it’s just a cute white cat. “Hello kitty, you scared me!”, you say as the little cat comes purring. You crouch and pet it, after all it was too cute to not play with it.

“Bepo… Bepo… where the hell are you?”, you hear a man’s voice that comes closer. “Are you Bepo?”, you ask the little kitten and try to see what his collar says. “Bepo!!, there you are!”, a young man says with a gravelly voice.

“Oh, excuse me!”, you tell him as he comes closer to grab the white ball of fur. “Oh no, it's ok! I was about to go to sleep and I was looking for him. Did you scare her/him/they, Bepo?”, he says, approaching you, bending down and petting the kitten’s head.

The clouds move allowing the moonshine to bathe his face, revealing refined face features. A straight but snub nose, white pale skin, black spiky hair that ends up with sideburns, a goatee, and intense grey eyes with very dark circles were his main features. He was the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life so you stay caught on his face for a little while.

A cold breeze blows your hair and somehow a chill runs through your spine, as you hear the sound of wind chimes dancing along on the front porch of a wooden house. “Do you live in this town? I haven’t seen you before… I mean, I’m kind of new into town though…” he says to you with a smile while lifting the cat on his slender, pale and tattooed hands.

You stand up and say “Oh, uhm...I’ve recently graduated so I came back to my parents’ house to work with them, I used to live here, though”. “Oh, I see! Nice to meet you! My name is Law”, he says while extending his hand to you. You hesitate for a second, but then you say “Nice to meet you Law, I’m Y/n”. You shake hands, and realize how cold his skin is, almost as if he was somehow… dead?.

The encounter is disrupted by your dad, who got worried of you not arriving at home and opened the door to see if you were coming. “Y/n! there you are!. Oh, hello young man!, How are you?”, your father says from the front porch. “Goodnight Mr. Y/sn, everything alright! What about you and your wife?” Law says waving at your dad. “She’s inside a little worried for her pancake, that I see you’ve already met!”, your dad tells him while laughing. “Dad… I’m ok, go inside, I’ll be there in a minute”, you say to him, embarrassed.

“Nice to meet you, Law. Have a good night”, you say petting the little cat. “Have a goodnight too, Y/n-ya. I hope I could see you again”, Law says, giving you a side smirk. You nod and walk away.

You flop onto your bed, tired, exhausted. You close your eyes, total darkness until… his eyes… Those crystal grey eyes are the only thing you can see, and then they turn to yellow. And you wake up with a big gasp to the smell of blood.

“What the fuck was that?”, you say, agitated. An orangey sun ray filters from the windows of your teenage years room and hits directly your face. You block the sun with your arm realizing soon it was already morning and today you start working on your old family farm as a vet.

“Good morning little pancakes!!”, your dad greets you, as well as your little brother. Your mum is cooking those delicious breakfasts you used to have when you were younger and you sit on the table, pleased and filled with your family’s love.

The day passes with you meeting all the animals on the farm, you even have to take care of a wounded horse. “Don’t worry Violet, it’s just a little blood, but your leg will be fine”, you say to a black spotted mare that has been jumping on the field and somehow hurt his leg.

At noon, your childhood best friend sends a text telling you that tonight you two should go to “Shambles Bar'' - the one and only bar that has ever been there since you were born - to have fun since it’s Friday. You agree, not because you were a fan of partying but because you missed those old days before you left for uni.

“Leeeeet’s go party like the old timeeees, babeee” your best friend shouts at you while jumping on your bed. “hahaha stop it, you are going to break the bed!!”. You both laugh, get ready and head out.

You pass next to Law’s house and try to see if he is at home, but it seems as if no one is there. “Oi, do you know Law?” you say pointing with your thumb to his house. “Law?”, your best friend asks confused, and continues, “You mean the vampire guy who lives there?, yeah. Why?”. “Vampire guy? what do you mean?” you ask, half confused, half curious. “Haha, the guys call him like this. I mean, have you seen how pale he is? and those dark circles? He looks like he is dead. Plus no one has seen him during the daytime. Ever. But how do you know him?”, she tells you. “Oh, yesterday, his cat, Bepo, came to me. He was looking for the kitty and we happened to talk”, you tell her with a tone that tries to downplay the topic. “Oh, I see. To be honest I don’t even know what he does for a living so I don’t have any more info. Maybe Luffy or Zoro know him, you can ask them tonight”, she says. “Yeah, maybe”, you say and change the topic.

A few drinks after and you and your friends are already dancing to the sound of country music and the humble light system of the old bar, when the same image of those eyes of your dreams flashes before your eyes and a sudden smell of blood hits your nose. You stand still for a moment, scared. “Babe, what is it?”, asks Nami, one of your friends there. “Uh.. n- nothing”, you say confused and keep dancing.

A few seconds later, someone is touching your shoulder from behind. Your friends stand still for a moment with a subtle scared expression, but the touch of that hand felt warm for you, even as if some type of power was running through all of your body.

“Y/n-ya?”, a well-known voice calls you, and you turn around. There he was, Law, “the vampire guy” as your friends call him. “L-Law?”, you say slowly smiling when you see his pale face. “What a coincidence, huh?. I mean the town is not that big…”, he says, and you finish his sentence with a “yeah, and this is the only bar…”. You both laugh and for some seconds your eyes are fixed onto each other’s.

“Oi, Torao! you wanna drink with us?” says Zoro, inviting Law to our table. “Yeah, thanks, Zoro-ya”, he tells him. You all sit and ask waiter Beca to bring you another round of drinks. Law sits next to you.

Sanji, another friend of yours, asks you “You two already know each other?”. “Kind of”, you say laughing a little blushed. “Y/n-ya met Bepo, first!” Law tells your blond friend, laughing.

An old song you and your friends used to dance as “your song” starts playing on the jukebox and you run to the dance floor. You can’t help but gaze at where Law is just to see if he is watching you dance. And he does, he is looking at you, with a smile on his pretty face. Your cheeks turn to red, but you are way grown up to act like a teenager, and decide to invite him to dance. You are driven somehow to him, you don’t really know why, but you are.

“Law, do you wanna dance?”, you tell him, extending your arm as you were calling him to the dancefloor. “You too guys, come here!!” Nami shouts to your friends.

Law stands up and walks to you. Smiling, he incorporates to the circle and starts dancing. He doesn’t dance well, but you just don’t care, you either after all.

A slow song starts to play, romantic also. Robin, another of your friends, tells you that the song is called “I Hear a Symphony”, and that Law should dance with you. You look at her, widening your eyes trying to tell her to stop, but Law grabs one of your hands and tells you “May I have this dance?”. You giggle a little, I mean why is he talking like a prince?, but then you just let yourself go and accept his offer.

The pale guy puts his other hand over your waist and you two start dancing to that pretty melody. For a moment you feel as if you were dancing into a castle, like in another century.

Interlocking your eyes, you start to think that coming back to your hometown wasn’t that bad and somehow you feel as if everything around you disappears. For an instant you believe to see his eyes change colors, from that crystalline grey to an intense brilliant yellowish color, but this time you don’t get scared. You feel attracted more and more to him, as if something invisible was pulling you towards him.

The touch of his hands feels cold, really cold, just like the first time… “is it because it’s almost winter?”, you think. Law is looking at your lips, neck, and something on his expression shows as if he was willing to devour you. And frankly, you too… you lost yourself looking at his mouth, he has it barely open. He has prominent canines that show through the little space in between his lips, and you remember your friend's words “the vampire guy” ...

The slow music is over, and now pop blasts on the bar. The couples part and you all come back to your table. It’s already 2 am, and you all feel exhausted from working all day - except Law, who seems to be really energetic -.

“Well, my dear friends, I’m not a teenager anymore, I think I’m coming back home now”, you inform your friends, to which some of them reply protesting and the others supporting the motion.

“If you want to, I can walk you home. I mean, we are neighbors”, tells you Law. Something inside you says “oh no darling, you are going fast”, but your mouth simply slips a “Oh, thank you, that’d be fine”.

You grab your coat, and head to the door followed by your deadly crush. None of you two say a word the first few steps. Tonight, is even colder than yesterday, but your cheeks are so red, full of blood that you don’t seem to notice the freezing breeze. “He is going to think I’m desperate, like he is the hottest guy I’ve ever met, but still… calm down Y/N”, you say to yourself, while walking thinking about what to say to break the ice.

“The moon looks pretty tonight, doesn’t it?”, he says to you, timidly. You look up to the sky and contemplate a big full moon with reddish tints on its hue. “Oh, I think it is the eclipse they were talking about on tv last night… the “red moon” ...”, you say, but got interrupted by Law, “Yeah, a “blood moon””. The way he said that, felt almost as threatening, but you look at him, and there he is, smiling at you with a friendly face.

You remember you still don’t know shit about him, so you ask him, “Oi, Nami told me you moved into town a few months ago, what did it bring you here?”. He stops for a moment, looking at the ground, but then sketching out a fake smile he tells you, “I got bored from the city, so I moved into the countryside… but to be honest I came mainly because I heard that pumpkin pies here are delicious”. You look at him, because that sounded like a terrible lie but you chose to believe it and when you were about to ask him about what he does for a living, he interrupts you, “Well, it looks like we are already home”. “Oh, yeah, I haven’t noticed, ha-ha”, you say, a little bit annoyed because you wanted to ask him more questions, but mainly sad because the walk was over.

“So… goodnight”, you say to him while fidgeting back and forth with your feet. “Goodnight…” he says. You are both facing each other, and you nor Law are moving. He got his eyes fixed on your lips, and you wish he would just kiss you.

Slowly, little by little, Law approaches his face to yours, closer, closer, until... he stops himself violently. You get scared, but you don’t move a single muscle. “Why… why you… why do you smell like blood?”, he says gasping.

“W-What?”, you ask him confusedly backing up. “You, you smell like blood… have you… your arm…”, he says, snatching your forearm. Suddenly, you remember this morning, you cured Violet, and some blood got spilled on your forearm but you washed the area and took a bath right before going out. “How did you know?”, you ask him.

He remains silent, trying to calm down. “I’m… I’m sorry I have a really sensitive nose”, he says and continues, “Why don’t you go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow, it’s pretty late now. Goodnight”. He says and runs to his house.

You are left there, and for a moment you just can’t process what just happened. “What the fuck, Law?”, you think. A cold shiver on your back announces to you, you should go back home and go to bed. There was no point in staying there.

You snuggle on your bed, still trying to understand but the exhaustion your body felt wins and you fall asleep. Again, those eyes, the smell of blood, the cold touch, you can see, smell, feel it all… “Y/n! pancake!!! wake up!!!”, you hear your dad shouting at you. You open your eyes violently, “What??? What happened dad??”. “The cattle, some… something attacked them…”, he says horrified. “What?” ...

You get dressed and run to the cowshed. A poor steer lays there, he has been attacked by some kind of animal… with fangs, and the poor thing looks like he has lost some blood. Luckily he was still alive, so you helped him instantly.

“Pancakes, what are those wounds on the neck the animal has?”, your dad asks. “To be honest, dad, I don’t know. It looks like some kind of animal has bitten the steer, but didn’t eat it… it looks like… has drunk some of his blood…”, you say to your dad astonished even more than him. “But, what kind of animal could do such a thing?”, he inquiries. “The only ones that could do it are the Desmodontinae, or vampire bats… but they are not typical in this hemisphere…

The incident quickly spread and everyone in town was talking about it. Luckily the animal recovered in a few hours, as the wounds weren’t that bad.

You can’t stop thinking about Law, and quickly you forget about the animal incident. He has been on your mind all morning, “why did he run away?” ... That afternoon you decide to go see if Law is at home, you really need to ask him about last night… Plus, deep inside you are a little bit annoyed, you wanted him to kiss you…

You ring the bell of the wooden house, but there is no answer. Since the blinds were all shut down, you think that he must be at work.

Suddenly little Bepo appears meowing from the backyard. “Hi Bepo!! Is your daddy at home?”, you ask the little cat while ruffling his head fur. The cat rubs on your leg and then walks back to the backyard, so you decide to follow him.

If Law isn’t at home you could perhaps take a look at his patio. You are curious and he represented a mystery you wanted to decode, really bad.

At first you think you’ve seen someone looking at you from one of the windows of the house, but you thought it was just your imagination. You trespass private property.

The patio showed nothing but a bucket on one of the corners, next to an old mossy bench. You follow Bepo, and as you are approaching the metal pail that has something red inside, your phone rings. “God damn!!”, you jump scared. The phone screen shows an unknown number calling, “That’s weird”, you say and pick up. “Hello?”, “Hi!, Y/n-ya, it’s me, Law. I’m sorry to bother you but I wanted to apologize about last night”. Law… LAW! You realize you are still in his yard so you quickly leave the place and start walking home. “Don’t worry, I guess it must be a little intimidating to be with someone that smells like… blood”, you say. A silence takes the call but then Law simply laughs -again, a fake laugh- and tells you that he will call you later to compensate you for last night. You agree and say goodbye.

You close the door behind you leaning over it, gasping. Your heart races. What if he knows you’ve been stalking his house…? “I’m such a creep”, you say to yourself, and go to your room.

You spend the afternoon in your backyard with your mum, October is about to end so the fall season is at its peak. Maple leaves fall from a big tree next to your porch and garnish the patio with its coppery colors.

That night, your parents and brother were invited to a party in the next town, so they won’t come back until the next day. After a hot meal you go to sleep. You haven’t received any messages from Law yet and you wonder if you should text him or just let him do it first. You finally decide that he should be texting you first, so you snuggle in bed and close your eyes. For the third night in a row, you dream with those eyes, with the smell of blood. But, this time it's so intense that you awake instantly in the middle of the night. “Again?”, you say while brushing your hand over your eyes.

Suddenly you hear something knocking on your window… “Law?!”, you say, gasping. He mimics something similar to an “open please”. Your bed is next to the window so you are still sitting there in your pjs, so you stretch to open the window.

“What are you doing here?”, you ask him while helping him to enter. Law sits on the bed and tells you, whispering “I’m sorry, I was missing you, I really, really needed to see you… plus I told you I wanted to compensate for yesterday”.

A subtle light from the moon illuminates half of your faces, and you are speechless. “So, this is how he plans to compensate for running away last night? He is on my bed… he looks so sexy… damn”, you think. But Law starts acting innocently, and begins to ask you about the trophies on your shelves.

You tell him about how good you were at volleyball when you were in high school, and he tells you that he was too. “Where did you take that picture?”, he asks, pointing to an old photo you had pinned on the cork board. “This one?” you say, and when you grab it the side of the paper cuts your finger softly but enough to make some blood sprout. “Ouch!”, you say and you are about to take your finger to your mouth when Law grabs your wrist violently. “L-Law?!! What are you doing?”, you tell him, scared trying to unfasten from his hand. Law doesn’t speak, he starts to tremble, he is breathing fast, he is squeezing your wrist.

“Let me go, Law!” you say, but he doesn’t hear. He is somehow focused on perhaps staying still, trying to avoid something. He suddenly looks at you, his expression resembles a beast, beads of sweat run through his temples. His eyes change from grey to a bright yellow, his pupils dilate. His prominent canines are now true fangs.

Law is salivating, his veins are now visible on his forehead, you can see how his blood pumps faster. You can’t understand what the hell is going on, but for some reason you don’t scream. You concentrate on his eyes, you are able to see a remaining humanity in them, so you are far from scared.

He lets go of your hand, and kneels on the floor. Law is panting soundly; he is fighting against himself. “Calm down”, you say to him. He looks up to you, with tears in his eyes, still emitting guttural sounds. He is surprised to see how your face doesn’t show terror, nor contempt. You don’t know why, but you are even more attracted to him, dangerously attracted. You were willing to let him drink your blood if he wanted to…

With a smirk on your face, you say to him, “Blood is what you want, huh?”. He opens his mouth, and a pair of sharp fangs are shown. He shakes his head, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he needs you. “I trust you; I know you won’t hurt me. You can drink from me”, you offer him. You know he is able to stop, and somehow everything makes sense. The poor animal this morning, he has just drunk a little blood but didn’t inflict mortal wounds to it. If he was that considerate to an animal, he will probably be with you too. -Or that is what you wanted to believe-.

He swallows, and still trembles and without any warning he pounces on you. Your back hits your bed and he's over you. He fixes his eyes on yours and asks you, "are you sure about this?". "Uhum", you nod. You are so desperate for him, that you probably consider yourself a beast more than him.

Law buries his fingers on your cheeks, and violently moves your head to the side, exposing your neck. You feel a few drops of saliva that falls into your skin from his mouth, and see how he approaches your neck.

He bites you, but even if it hurts, he is drinking your blood from your carotid so subtly, so carefully. A few seconds later, he stops. Some of your warm blood runs from the wound onto your bed.

"T-Thank you…" he says, planting a soft kiss over the little holes on your skin, caressing your hair. "You are welcome", you say, almost naturally as if being bitten by some kind of beast was something you always do.

But suddenly, you start to experience some kind of pressure on your chest, and breathing becomes difficult. Your eyes roll back, and you feel different. You look at him, trying to understand what is going on, and he simply brushes his tattooed hands over your face. "Don't worry, it's normal. You are not going to turn into… me. But, a little bit of me runs through your veins now…". He says, brushing his hand over his mouth trying to clean the mess your vital fluid has left on his lips.

You are not worried about becoming into a vampire or whatever the hell he is, but because you are experiencing a strong need to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him. "Kiss me", you command him.

He looks at you, still settled over your body and your lips meet. His tongue invades your mouth, and you can taste the metallic rests of your blood on his mouth.

Without separating your mouths helps you take off your white -blood stained- shirt and then you do the same with him. His torso shows a big design inked on his skin, and a few wounds.

His fangs subtly scrape your skin, from your neck, to your chest, lower through your stomach. He spreads your legs with his strong arms, and softly but enough to leave some marks, bites the skin of your inner thighs. The feeling of those fangs softly ripping the first layers of your skin made yourself squirm in pleasure.

His yellow eyes fix on yours, and now he is devouring your sex. You throw your head back and surrender to his skilled tongue movements. What follows next is an extremely hard pounding session, that leaves you trembling, exhausted, sore… but satisfied.

Since then, every night you let him slowly drink you up, drop by drop, giving to him a bit of your life every time. Your eyes slowly changed colors, first a little patch of yellow, then half of your right iris…

A deadly, dangerous attraction, that won’t last forever… or maybe, if you decide to let everything aside and turn into a full vampire like him… who knows? maybe your obsessive love for him would end up changing your life… forever. ♥