#so like. if I have been so absolutely mind-scrambled by that I? don’t think I’ll survive.

[chilapis]

I love posts that are like “imagine your f/o picking you up” because they’re meant to be so sweet and gentle but every time I get picked up by a friend my brain just… shuts down. Like for whatever reason my brain physically fails to compute the situation. I cannot imagine what it would be like with Ajax

[ataraxiaspainting]

Russian Roulette.

Yan L x GN Reader.

Synopsis: You decide to test your luck while it still lasts, as small as it is. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, past stalking, kidnapping, and manipulation.

Word Count: 1.1k.

*~*~*~*

“Hmm… why do you want me to do that, exactly?” The response is much longer than a simple okay or sure or no, but the question was what you expected to be in the realm of absolute possibility. You have given L too little credit in the past, when you first woke up here, thinking that he can shut himself up and go back to whatever he usually does, like eating cake or watching the same footage of you in your home for the tenth time that week. 

You can work with this.

“It’s not like you have given me much else to do.” You say, not biting your tongue this time around, the bitterness in your voice coinciding with the box of sour fruit gummies on the other side of the table, with the artificial sweetness in L’s tone. “Plus if you want to treat me as well as you say you want to, you would oblige the simple request of playing a game with your favorite captive.”

His eyebrow raises at the last word that slipped out of your mouth, not out of guilt or shame or fear that your reality has punched him straight in the face, but out of just… curiosity.

“What if I don’t?” He smirks, looking up at you. “You did just rudely rush in here stomping and making demands… not exactly the behavior I would think of when I hear the word captive.”

“I’m going insane.” You say, glaring down at him, your fists curled so deeply into your pajama pants that you swore that they would break. 

He chuckles, and it feels like the messy hair covering your angry face has just gotten even more disheveled. 

“I jest, I jest… fine… I’ll play with my favorite captive.”

It feels like this weight has just been lifted off of your head, but the one in your heart remains.

“No need to be so… tangled up.” He says the pun naturally, popping in a few more pieces of the neon candy. 

You start grumbling curses under your breath as if he did reject your proposal. He didn’t though. He didn’t, so you’ll play by his much longer game for a bit more before you struggle yet again.

“Not funny.”

There are only six pieces of candy left in the yellow box, each one a different color.

“What are you waiting for?” He asks, slouching forward instead of backward this time around and crossing his legs. “Go get your… game.”

You scoff and race off to L’s bedroom, putting your knees next to the mattress that is on the opposite side of L’s bed. Under your pillow are the six red plastic cups you stole from the cupboard last night, along with a chocolate egg still in its packaging, something you got from L after threatening to jump on your mattress until the few trinkets he got for you would fall on the floor and break. You won for once, in the end, but that condescending look he had while giving it to you makes you want to kick him in the groin again. 

It is the same look he has when you return to him, tail tucked between your legs as you set up the cups and the chocolate egg on the table. The box of candy is empty now. How in the hell does he not get so many cavities?

“Alright then, explain the rules.” He raises his arms to the ceiling and yawns loudly, obnoxiously. 

You sit down on the opposite side of the table. Your posture is much more restrained than his, he notes. Your hands are on your lap and your back is straight. You still don’t know how to relax. A symptom of being raised in high society.

“It’s a game I used to play with the younger servants when I was little.” You explain. Thinking of the past brings back unwanted feelings, but thinking of the present does the same. You have never experienced true freedom, but at least here you can speak your mind and your emotions. God, maybe you are going insane, being… thankful to him, your captor. “Someone guesses which cup has the object underneath. If they win, they get to ask a question to the person who scrambled the cups. If they lose, the person who scrambled the cups gets to ask the question.”

The image of a smaller you playing with porcelain cups and a ring, perhaps your mother’s, as the servants look confused makes L laugh softly. How cute.

“I’ll go first.” You insist, putting the chocolate egg under one of the cups and swiftly moving them around. “Okay. Go on. Don’t take your time.”

“Alright.”

L’s pointed finger moves slowly to the cup in the middle.

“If I remember correctly, it is this one, isn’t it?” He asks. “Right?”

That smile of yours makes choosing the wrong cup on purpose makes it worth it in L’s eyes. 

“Nope.” You lift the one farthest to L’s left and your right. The chocolate egg is there, untouched.

He doesn’t pretend to be surprised, instead still smiling. You do the same, albeit unknowingly.

“Alright, my turn now.” You didn’t even get to ask him a question, but you are too deep in your pride to care about it right now. You won against L for once. You’re proud. It’s cute.

One by one, you slide the cups and the chocolate egg over. You’re confident, it would appear. 

How cute.

He puts one cup over the chocolate egg and moves all of them around, much faster than you did your turn. Your eyebrows furrow as you try to concentrate. 

He stops moving them, and it feels like the weight on your heart becomes even heavier.

Your pointer finger shakes as you move it to the cup in the center, silent.

L shakes his head.

“Nope.” He says, the word mocking yours.

His right elbow rests on the corner of the table, his palm cradling his chin as he looks on, to the shakingness of your breath, to the way your folded hands tremble. 

The air feels thick, and you don’t even know why. Or do you?

“You already know what I am going to ask you, aren’t you?” The question is longer than anticipated. 

“N-No.” You stutter.

“Oh?” The sound feels like a stab to the heart or a punch in the face. “That’s fine, I guess.”

He leans in. Closer and closer. You back away, but not enough to not smell how sugary his breath is. 

“There is a knife missing from the knife drawer. Where is it?” 

You didn’t win against L, you say to yourself. He won.

“...Underneath my pillow.”

[bbyseok]

thinking about boss pro hero!bakugou and being his assistant in his hero agency. i’m sure there’s plenty of posts about it but i can’t just get it out of my head..

you’re at your designated desk, zoning out with thoughts about a certain blonde who so happens to be your boss—the very same blonde who’s interrupting your daydreaming to glare down at you.

you don’t know how long he’s been standing there—and he just stares at you. with a yelp, you straighten and sit up in your chair, wheels rolling against the carpet.

“dynamight!” you greet him hastily and flash up a sheepish smile, hoping you hadn’t embarrassed yourself. “sorry, i- uh, do you need help with something?”

“no, i just-” he clears his throat and that’s when you realize with a startling squint that he’s blushing. “i asked if- if you could take tomorrow off.”

before you can actually form words and reply to his sudden request, he winces very subtly and his blush deepens. “wait, ‘m your fuckin’ boss. you have tomorrow off,” he states matter-of-factly.

you blink in surprise, mind absolutely whirling. “i- i don’t understand?”

bakugou’s face is unreadable; his resting bitch face is present even during this confrontation—but the only difference is the pink dusting his cheeks. “there’s a katsudon restaurant a couple streets down from the agency. you better be there after my afternoon patrol is done.”

you’re pretty sure your jaw almost hits the floor. “what? i- uh, huh?”

he stares hard for two seconds before he’s scoffing and crossing his arms. “you heard me.”

you did. you really did hear him—but you’re not entirely sure that you’re not being delusional with your head in the clouds. is he.. asking you out?

albeit, not directly, as the man was practically demanding you to meet him somewhere out of the workplace.. in what sounds like a typical date setting. (it’s very bakugou of him.)

it’s obvious you’re staring in disbelief because he barks out an impatient “oi!” and you scramble for words. “yes-! yes, i- i’ll see you there, sir!”

his features soften and he looks, dare you say, relieved out of all things. “it’s bakugou, dumbass,” he corrects you in a grunt. “go back to work. you better be there tomorrow or fuckin’ else.”

and then there’s a big dumb smile stretching over your lips as you give him a nod and you swear you see his blush intensify. “i’ll be there.”

his eyes linger on you for a couple more heartbeats before he begins to stalk off. “good.” he then says over his shoulder, “and don’t be late!”

the rest of the office watches the great dynamight leave, dead quiet as the entire floor processes what just happened.

you’re in a daze. did that really just happen?

“holy shit.” one of your coworkers break the silence finally. “i’m pretty sure you just got a date with the boss.”

[kimakento]

i’m hurting, but that's okay

synopsis: koga yudai was the boy you had loved for long, yet he’s always abusing that love you cultivate for him. you’re hurting, but as long it was for him you were fine. ⌙ 3.4k

pairing(s): rich heir!student!koga yudai x student!fem!reader

genre(s): angst

tags: pyramid game!au, heir!yudai, koga yudai as baek harin’s character, fuma as sung suji’s, yudai is vry glorified from reader’s pov, smoker!yudai, original male character (tomo)

warnings: (TRIGGER WARNINGS) physical and emotional abuse, love bombing, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, possessiveness, implications of unhealthy infatuation (from reader)

author’s note: i’ve been so obsessed with pyramid game lately and couldn’t not write something based on it. i wrote this all in one night surprisingly. this is inspired/based off of the pyramid game, with some references to characters (yudai as harin, fuma as suji) it does not include the actual pyramid game yet, but if this is well received and i make a pt2, i will definitely add it in. feel free to notify me if i have missed any warning(s) on this post.

disclaimer: this is in no way a real life depiction of how koga yudai acts in real life, if you cannot distinguish that i suggest you click off now.

“so?”

yudai’s voice was monotone, almost uninterested; a tone he never used with you. he held a cigarette in between his index and middle finger, and blew a puff of smoke in your face.

as docile and timid as you were, you weren’t flat-out stupid — you could tell he was just using you. but you just liked being near him. and for yudai, he thought you to be akin to an obedient pet, fulfilling his every bidding. doubts filled your mind as you nodded, a while ago he had asked you to steal the answers for the coming exams and like the loyal person you were, you did exactly that.

there was just something adorable about you to him. he liked that you were terrified by him, but also infatuated with him simultaneously.

it was fun, to say the least.

your voice wavered as you brought the bunch of unkept papers from your back and handed it to him, “here, i’ve brought it.”

your class all knew about you and him, they all ridiculed you; belittling you to be a mindless and blindly loyal suck-up to him. as much as you liked yudai, you didn’t think there would come a time when he did like you back.

at once, he snatched the papers from your trembling hands and brought them closer. as yudai squinted his eyes, a vexed expression adorned his face. brows furrowed, the creases in between them instensified; conveying his anger. in a fit, he threw them at your face.

“this isn’t even our class’s exams. how can you expect to be around me when a bitch like you doesn’t know how to read?”

your eyes fell to your worn-out shoes, taking in the scent of his — probably expensive — cologne and the acrid odour of smoke. dropping your knees, you collected the crumpled papers immediately.

watching you at his beck and call was… exhilarating.

koga yudai liked when you were so quiet. he liked it when you heeded to him and only him.

but most of all, he loved possessing this boundless power over you.

and you would do absolutely anything to stay in his grip. he didn’t even have to lift a single finger since you were always so desperate to be near him.

scrambling back to your feet, yudai tutted tauntingly at you. a haunting smirk took to his face.

“i must’ve read it wrong then, i’m really sorry,” it was like reasoning with an iron wall. “i’ll return to the staff room and try to get the actual answers, yudai.”

immediately, his face dropped. throwing his cigarette, he snuffed the flame with his boot while his expression hardened.

“don’t ever call me that again if you know what’s good for you.” an expression of confusion took to your face. “it’s ‘k’ to you.”

you knew you fucked up. k hated when anyone called him ‘yudai’. no one, not even you, knew why.

hanging your head down in shame, you nodded meekly in response.

yudai smiled. that’s how he liked you to be, weak and faithful. he despised change, he also hated when his plans were ruined.

that all changed a few weeks later, when a transfer student joined the school.

murata fuma.

he was nice; a little naive to the happenings of the class 2-5 but still kind nonetheless. soon after, fuma became your seatmate. and both of you hit it off straight away, finding common interests and such. that was why you decided to tell fuma to steer clear of yudai to which he agreed. it wasn’t surprising to see yudai wasn’t a fan of this new friendship that was blooming. it ruined his plans, he wanted needed to isolate you from everyone else.

before this ‘fuma’ arrived, everything was all in place and uniformly at that. you were isolated and at his heed; now, however, you were slowly slipping through his fingers. yudai observed from a distance in the school cafeteria as you chatted excitedly with fuma, a hand on his shoulder.

he’d make note to speak with you about this in due time.

while laughing at whatever fuma said, you received a message from yudai; asking commanding you meet him behind the school.

as you trampled on the crackling gravel lightly, you notice yudai leaning against a discarded, crumbling, wooden table. with another cigarette in hand, he drew you in with a hand motion. to be honest, you were frightened that you had something to upset the boy you publicly yearned for. taking broad steps closer, you now could fully inhale the smell of nicotine. eyes drawn to his hands, you raked your gaze over his skeletal fingers, the ones you wanted to hold so dearly.

fingers gripped your jaw tightly, forcing you to look at him, “look at me.” his voice was firm and strict, like he was training an animal. “i don’t keep you around me to run after other men.”

that’s what you were to him. a faithful and obedient dog.

the cigarette still in his other hand, he gave a sarcastic chuckle.

“i don’t quite understand.” one by one, those fingers retracted.

you had upset him.

“are you fucking stupid or what? get your shit together. i know you told him to stay away from me. did you honestly think i wouldn’t know?” with his towering figure looming over you, he took a step closer; the end of the cigarette an inch from your face. “i think you deserve a little punishment, don’t you?”

smoke wafted around the koga heir, concealing his knowing smirk. “give me your hand.”

he put his hand out towards you, nodding for you to put your smaller hand in his. when you didn’t, with an overpowering amount of strength, he yanked your wrist. his nails dug into your arms as you grimaced, knowing what’s to come. the heat of the cigarette hovered around as yudai lowered it to come in contact with the skin of your palm.

the odour of burning flesh invaded your senses and you let out a yelp, retracting your hand away. tears welled up in your eyes as you gazed down at your burn. those same tears fell down to your chin as you looked up in disbelief.

yet you never uttered a word in retaliation. you could never.

“i-i won’t do it again, please.” yudai had never been this upset with you, and you hated it. you’d never been on the receiving side of his unfiltered wrath, usually observing those that had been unlucky to have been.

“if i see you so much as look at that bitch of a transfer student,” the name ‘fuma’ left a bitter taste in his mouth, even refusing to utter it. “expect much worser than this. and you know i never take shit like this lightly.”

he added one last part, “remember this. you don’t want to upset me again.”

again, you nodded; not wanting to even imagine yudai frowning in your direction. a lighthearted smile replaced his previous vexed expression. his plan of isolating you was again reinstated. you were his puppet, as always.

“now, you know i don’t like doing this to you.” your eyes perked up hearing the surprising statement from him. heat rushed to your cheeks as you avoided his gaze.

the right words always at the right time, he knew how to get you to stay in his grasp.

you asked him a simple question, “you don’t?”

and with that, yudai nodded his head and moved a strand of hair out of your eyes. a look of ‘worry’ took over his features as he stared at the purple-brownish burn on your skin. somewhere inside him, a burst of exhilaration ensued at seeing you like this. it was addictive; you still being the follower you always were even after being treated like dirt.

yudai liked that about you, this was your normal.

rough hands wrapped around the wrist of your palm that was hurt and spoke softly, “let’s get you patched up, hm?”

you were hurting, but that was okay. it was all for yudai.

after that day, you swore to keep away from fuma. that included avoiding him when he tried to speak with you at any point of the school day to even blocking his number on your phone. you weren’t necessarily scared of what yudai could do to you (you were to an extent), but you were scared what he’d do to others, especially fuma.

everyone in class school knew koga yudai came from old money, rumour had it that his parents were afraid of him. something to do with him being a ‘psychopath’, you obviously did not believe that though. the boy you were so hopelessly in love with was definitely not a psychopath.

yudai was always so protective of you and cared for you.

all your classmates avoided affiliating with the dangerous heir, terrified of his influence socially as well as economically; even his control over the school system. he would be able to arrange an expulsion for any that happened to be unfortunate get on his bad side.

however for you, that was not the case; yudai had immediately taken a liking to you. you still remembered when you first joined the school.

at first, yudai was intrigued by you. this came as a shock to him, he’d never been this interested in a classmate before, let alone a transfer student? it was your quiet and timid nature, but the fact you still had a presence in the class. ‘oh he had to have you’, he first thought. a plaything like you would perfectly complete his play set, he even thought it to be a bonus that you were seemingly infatuated with him. to him, people were like chess pieces and life was a chess board; you were only a pawn in his game — an easily discardable one at that.

he still remembered when you stumbled over your words whenever you spoke to him; also that he thought it to be sickeningly adorable.

yudai loved playing with people, especially those who were naive.

when in front of you, he put up a front; a kind-hearted, friendly and helpful facade that drew you in quickly.

amongst your first days, you had decided on studying in the library. observing your classmates whispering secretly, you unconsciously started listening in.

“i hate kei, he’s so stuck up. he deserves what’s coming to him.” one boy — you think was called tomo — said.

“he’s a borderline psychopath, remember what he did to fuji?” his friend, a girl, included. the conversation came to a hush as they realised you were present and able to hear.

“fuck, you’d better not open that mouth.” tomo interrupted with a glare in your direction.

gathering your belongings in one arm, you nodded, and got the hell out of there. during your alone time walking down the halls, you were contemplating on if you should tell yudai. that was until you had collided into someone and almost tripped over had they not wrapped an arm tightly around your waist. your gaze raked along their body until you recognised it to be the boy you were just thinking about.

a warm feeling of admiration coursed through your being.

noticing the worried expression on your face, he pulled you to an empty staircase. the smell of nicotine lingered around in the atmosphere faintly only masked by heavy amounts of expensive cologne. you were confused where the stench came from as you knew yudai didn’t smoke.

the smell made you faint-headed as it didn’t take long of you watching his pretty face to put you under a trance. it was so strong it had stuck to your blazer.

“is something wrong? you look out of it. a little worried perhaps?” his tone was laced with a hint of concern. he put a hand on your shoulder, snapping you back to reality and compelling you to look at him. “you can tell me. i’m here for you.”

a gentle touch, a caring tone, a concerned look all seemed to keep you from communicating back coherently.

should i? you contemplated inside your head, shutting your eyes and tuning the world out. it’s none of my business. but they seemed like they wanted to hurt kei.

koga yudai’s smile was gentle and radiated a disposition of kindness. your heart leaped at his lingering words and you lowered your voice.

“uhm… it’s about some of our classmates,” you whisper as an eyebrow raised on his pretty face. “tomo? i think he’s trying to, uh, hurt you.”

a shiver ran through your body at the thought of anyone laying a finger on the boy in front of you.

you waited for yudai’s expression to shift into worry — for him to react like normal person. but instead, he laughed in your face. you furrowed your eyebrows at his peculiar antics.

“let me guess, he said i was a psycho or something?” a snicker left his mouth again.

at once, you nodded.

he replied with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “don’t worry your pretty little head about that. i’ll deal with him. thanks for telling me.”

once again, your stomach leaped at his words; he always knew exactly what to say to keep you in his trance.

the phrase ‘i’ll deal with him’ kind of stuck with you.

only to be remembered the next day when you observed the same boy, tomo, entering the school gates with green-blueish bruises painting his face and a busted lip. it didn’t help that tomo kept returning his gaze to yudai and that the koga heir’s fists were covered with bandaids. yudai skipped happily towards you, an arm locked around your shoulder.

“you’re being cute again today.” he whispered to you.

the dots had all seemed to connect, but it was too late; you were already caught up in his spell.

since then, he started smoking around you more. you always caught him with a cigarette in hand and wafts of smoke dancing around him. at first when you saw him smoking carelessly, you had accidentally inhaled the smoke and started coughing violently.

yudai couldn’t contain the smile that threatened to make its way to his face. he loved seeing you in pain, it made him giddy. without delay, tears threatened to fall from your eyes and eventually did. the index finger of his free hand grazed your cheek softly, collecting that tear and wiping it away.

“you look better when you’re crying for me, hmm?” with a sigh of satisfaction, he took another puff and blew it at your face.

this time, you inhaled the smoke, biting back the reflex to cough. that had brought a smile to the man’s face.

meanwhile, murata fuma had tried his best to look out for you after noticing the predicament you were in with the heir that possessed psychopathic tendencies. there wasn’t much he could do after you avoided him and blocked his number. he had to work fast and work now.

so he took the chance; you walked alone in the empty hallway, earbuds in your ear and humming along to some music. you were looking around for yudai, wanting to show him a new artist you had discovered. that was until you were pulled inside a spare classroom by strong hands.

“what the hell— fuma?!” you yelped as you recognised the boy. “no, no, no. i can’t be here with you.” worry creased your face.

confusion laced fuma’s features, prompting you to continue your blabbering.

“if he sees me here with you, we’re both done for. please, i need to go.” as you turned to leave, you felt his hand wrap around your wrist. his gaze swept along the burns that littered along your skin and raised his eyebrows.

“go back? to him? he’s a fucking psycho. that…” a finger grazes one burn softly. “is not someone to return to.”

you were so tired of everyone dictating your life, you shrugged him off angrily. “you don’t know me or yudai. stay out of this, murata.”

and with that, you stormed off. muttering all sorts of curses, you decided to report to yudai himself.

dull sparkles seemed to settle in his eyes as you informed him of the happenings amidst your fellow classmates. your thoughts ran wild; remind you of what you refused to tell the heir in hopes of keeping your dignity. your classmates had asked you to help them bring down the boy and strip him of his power. obviously you had refused, but you couldn’t deny that you were tired of the games he played with you and others.

“they ambushed me randomly. i left before they could tell me anything though.”

you did well, right? you knew he’d be proud of you, yet an unsettling feeling churned in your stomach; plain fear quite literally manifesting inside your body.

a hum of understanding resonated from him, “why do i have a feeling you’re lying to me, pretty?”

the koga heir loved when you heeded his command, but loathed when you’d lie to him.

a liar was one thing he’d not tolerate. and you knew that.

in all his beauty, you observed as he walked towards you, his hazel eyes staring at the burn marks that decorated your palms — it was a reminder of your undying loyalty to him. a reminder of your love for him… that he would never reciprocate.

koga yudai didn’t know how to love, he never wanted to learn either. yet he knew enough about how to manipulate the love others had for him. now, he slinked back and admired his work.

“did those fools mention anything else?”

“no.” another lie.

genuine fear laced with obedience conveyed through your body language. now was not the time to be nervous. you watched as his brown locks ruffled when the wind blew.

yudai always made sure to wear his signature cologne around you. you were obsessed with the smell and it always seemed like you paid more attention to him when he wore it. the boy would also noticed that you would stare at his lips every time he parted them to speak and found that hilarious.

he liked the way your eyes would dart around nervously after before settling on your shoes. the way your cheeks heated up; it delighted him to know that you weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

his favourite puppet. sitting prettily for him, responsive and loyal.

sending you on mindless and endless errands was his favourite pastime.

something inside him told him you were a person who liked to feel needed, so he put you to use. as always, you were there to give him a good and proper laugh. who’d need entertainment when he had you, figuratively and comically chasing your own tail. always beaming, you’d return with whatever he told you to, over the moon that you could be of service to him and only him.

it wasn’t like you were any wiser, currently on your way to buy coffee for yudai (or as per his command for some girl from class 2-4 he had been speaking to for a while). as much as it pained you that he had another person he was close to, you did what you could.

cautiously balancing the coffee, you walked towards the table they were at and noticed yudai’s hand was on the girl’s thigh. forcing a smile on your face, you placed — more like slammed — the tray down onto the table and stormed off. the smile on the boy’s face only grew wider at your visible discontent.

this was something he had to do.

to yudai, you looked a bit too satisfied with your position around him, he had to remind you of your designated place in his school.

he followed you to your empty form room and grabbed your wrist, “what’s wrong?”

you took your hand back as you replied, “it’s that girl. why do you hang around her when you have me? am i not enough?” jealousy coursed through your veins.

“i always do exactly what you tell me to.” you take his hand in yours and prompt him to meet your awaiting gaze. “please, look at me and only me. and i’ll do anything you want me to.”

inside him, the wealthy heir couldn’t contain his excitement. this was exactly what he needed; he enjoyed this push and pull game.

“you’re amusing.” perplexity laced your eyes as he spoke. “i like you.”

and yudai always came out on top.

[omnomnomdomcaps]

Louder than Words

Yet another remastered story, everyone! And yes, I'm still here. - ONND

***

Ann stared in vain at the screen in front of her, lingering on the clock in the corner. She had told her boss - the firebrand lawyer that she aspired to be like - that she could have her report done by Monday morning, and yet for the past three hours she had accomplished absolutely nothing. It was as if a fog had set over her, and she knew exactly who to blame.

In one furious motion, the diminutive blonde rose from her seat, stomped through her apartment hallway as loudly as her five-foot frame could, stopped, and pointed, as sharply and as angrily as her finger was capable of pointing.

“YOU!” she bellowed, her face bright red.

“Yes?” Richard, her boyfriend, turned in his swivel, utterly unfazed, resting his hands in his lap as he looked up at his fuming visitor.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” the girl bellowed, “Your stupid fucking hypnosis bullshit has been messing with my head all night, and I’ll remind you that I have a lot of work to do.”

“My… stupid hypnosis?” he repeated softly, raising an eyebrow, “But… I thought that hypnosis didn’t do anything?”

“Oh shut up, smartass,” Ann barked, “it doesn’t. But all your yammering on about figuring out the trigger” - she added air quotes as she mocked - “and how revolutionary you seem to think this bullshit is has been giving me a fucking headache, and now I can’t focus on my goddamn work.”

“My oh my,” the man shook his head in his seat, “such rude words. As I said before, I’m quite proud of this new file, and I’m very appreciative that you would let me test it out on you. I just thought you should know that it’s trigger-based, in case that helps you manage it. After twenty-four hours, I’ll be happy to remove it if you just ask, but I need to collect a few observations first.”

“I don’t need you to remove shit,” she snarled, “It doesn’t do anything, and I wish you’d stop wasting your time on it. Just tell me what the stupid trigger is or whatever, so I can focus on more important things. Christ.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Richard smiled, “Besides, if the file really isn’t doing anything, then it’d seem to me that you just need a simple distraction. So why don’t you take your mind off work a few minutes, hmmm? Relax a little?”

Ann growled, but eventually released her pointing hand and exhaled. She wasn’t one to admit it, but perhaps, she thought, he was right - a simple distraction was what she needed.

The girl left her boyfriend’s office and made her way to the kitchen, where she quickly came upon some lingering plates and cutlery from the night’s dinner. Once more, she took a deep breath, before taking a sponge and turning on the faucet, immersing herself in a simple, productive task to clear the fog in her head.

And within just a few moments, that fog seemed to start to clear. The girl felt calmer and more at ease, and didn’t even show annoyance when a familiar face came in to join her.

“Aww, thank you!” her boyfriend remarked, “You didn’t have to do that. Maybe I can help?”

“I can handle it myself,” she said without turning, “but thanks.”

Indeed, it seemed she was almost done with the work anyway, only one plate left to scrub off and place into the couple’s dishwasher. But then, that plate slipped from her hands.

In a moment of sudden panic, Ann scrambled to regain a grip on the wide dinner plate, her wet fingers grasping madly at the air over the sink. Finally, she was able to regain a hold, but it came at such an awkward angle that she ended up diverting the full pour of the faucet towards her body, blasting her with such force that she had to drop the ceramic into the basin below.

The plate shattered into pieces, and Ann just stood there, trying to make sense of what had just happened, and what had come of it. She was drenched - the burst of water had reached her face, her t-shirt, and the front of her pants. As her boyfriend stepped calmly in front of her, turning off the sink and beginning to collect the shattered remains of the plate, the girl erupted once again in frustration.

“Fucking seriously!?” she yelled out, “Why the fuck did you have to distract me again? I was finally starting to fucking relax and you had to get up behind me and…”

“Whoa there now,” he gestured, as if trying to rein in a horse, “no need for that kind of hostility. I’ll just take care of the little mess here, and I think you should probably focus on getting yourself cleaned up?”

Again the girl growled, balling up fists as she walked away. Part of her wanted to keep arguing, but she knew there would be nothing to gain. Plus, she knew he was right - she needed to get herself cleaned up. Her shirt was sopping wet, and the stain on her pants had soaked her underwear as well.

As she changed herself out into dry clothes in their bedroom, Richard once again came to join, tapping her ajar door before peering in.

“You gonna be alright changing yourself there, babe? Maybe I should get you something a little more absorbent, in case you have another little mishap?”

“Real funny,” she rolled her eyes, “I can keep my pants dry just fine, as long as someone doesn’t keep distracting me. Now could you please leave me alone?”

“Alright, alright,” he acquiesced, and walked away.

Ann, dressed in a fresh set of clothes, took several deep breaths to try to calm herself down, hoping that she might be able to focus enough to get her work done. But as she stared again into the screen, she found herself again veering away from her task. She played games, watched news, checked social media, and did everything except the thing she was supposed to do, until a familiar feeling finally pulled her away from her seat.

“God fucking damn it,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she walked away from her laptop. She wondered why she had been so ineffective - she’d never been one to struggle so much with writer’s block or procrastination before, and she didn’t really care about the stupid hypnosis trigger, did she?

But then, only a few feet from her chair, Ann felt something strange. The urge that she had, that had started as a simple need for a pee break, seemed to be developing unnaturally, growing stronger and stronger each second. But it had gotten beyond even that.

The girl looked down, unable to believe what she was seeing. There, at the front of her fresh pair of shorts, spots were appearing. They weren’t some burst of desperation, but small, uncontrolled drop, leaking through underwear, and beginning to drip onto the floor.

“Fuck!” She launched into a sprint for the bathroom, but it was already too late. The drops had turned into a full-blown stream, flowing down across the legs of her shorts and forming puddles on the hardwood below, with her muscles unable to stop anything.

She finally did enter the bathroom, but there wasn’t much left for her to do there. She tossed off her ruined shorts and panties - her second such set of the day - and sat half-naked on the toilet bowl, mulling her situation, cursing until her face turned red.

And then, like clockwork, he showed up, carrying a crinkling package in his hand as he waved to his girlfriend from the bathroom’s entrance.

“What the fuck do you want!?” she balked, “And why do you even have that?”

“Occupational hazard,” he chuckled, “different hypnoses affect people in different ways, and sometimes these h-”

“NO!” she pointed, glaring suddenly, “Don’t say that word - that word that rhymes with ‘yelp.’ That’s your fucking trigger word, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

Richard smiled and shrugged, and then began to answer. “A good g-”

“No!” she cut him off, “You know what? Don’t fucking say anything. Don’t talk to me tonight. Sleep on the fucking couch. Okay?”

The man standing in the hallway nodded, raising his free hand up to gesture for calm. He said nothing.

“But,” Ann went on, her voice turning timid, “could you leave the package here? Thanks.”

Her boyfriend tossed the package towards her before proceeding to walk away once again. Ann, after a few moments, reached to bring it closer to herself, shuddering as she examined the contents.

Diapers. A small, mostly empty bag of thick, adult diapers. Ann wondered if she really needed them, or if she was simply letting Richard’s riddles get in her head. Either way, she figured, it would be easier to just put one on. Tomorrow afternoon, she reminded herself, she would be done with this insanity, free to go back to her normal life. And she would never agree to let that man hypnotize her again.

With a sigh, the girl took a garment from the bag and unfolded it, trying to make sense of front and back. This will be over soon, she reminded herself, and she stood to wrap the diaper around herself. It was an alien feeling, and she winced as she heard the plastic crinkle. Still, it wasn’t all that uncomfortable, and she was able to ease into the sensation as she walked back towards the bedroom, carrying the remainder of the bag in her fingers.

Richard had gone to sleep on their sofa, as requested, and Ann flopped onto their bed alone, thoughts from the previous day racing through her mind. She was too tired to try to do work any longer, and she reminded herself that it would be a waste of time anyway. Within a day, this would all be over, and that thought calmed her as she drifted off peacefully.

****

Some nine hours later, Ann rubbed her tired head as she tried to adjust to the new day. She wasn’t used to sleeping so long, and she certainly wasn’t used to the new sensation between her legs.

“Oh, Christ…” she mumbled, tossing off her blanket and covers to reveal a sopping diaper underneath.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Richard waltzed in, a wide smile on his face, “Ready for breakfast?”

“Could you not be so fucking loud?” she whispered, holding the side of her head, “i literally just woke up. Jesus…”

“Oh my,” he said, speaking more softly now, “looks like someone’s had a busy night, huh? I suppose I’ll just leave you to it, then.”

And for a few moments, he did, working away in the kitchen while the girl tried to orient herself. Slowly, Ann was able to untape her worn diaper, wrap it, and toss into their wastebasket, before pulling another from the bag - the last, she quickly realized - and setting it around her hips.

“Need any… assistance there?” Richard chimed in from the kitchen.

“No!” she balked, “I can change myself. I don’t need you using this as an excuse to humiliate me any more.”

“Suit yourself, then.”

This time, however, it seemed the tapes were baffling Ann. Try as she might, she simply couldn’t fix them around her waist, no matter if she was lying down or standing up, no matter how she tried to position her hands.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” he finally asked again, peering into the bedroom door.

“I told you not to… ugh…” the girl scowled, crossing her arms and turning her head. “Fine! Go ahead and fucking change me already. I hope you’re happy, asshole.”

“Always!” he answered cheerily, whistling to himself as he fastened the blushing girl’s diaper.

“Y’know,” he said, just as he was finishing the work, “I think I might have to pick up a few things at the mall today. Would you care to join me?”

“Fine,” the girl replied, her head still turned away, a scowl still covering her face, “whatever.”

Breakfast was a silent affair - flapjacks and scrambled eggs, which the girl ate, to her relief, without incident. All the while, her mind continued to race through her current situation, as she struggled to accept the profound effects the hypnosis seemed to have had on her, and wondered how much further it would go before the day was through.

Soon, the two were in the mall lobby, watching Sunday crowds scuttle about around them. Ann had chosen a light blue sundress to wear - the one clean item she had that wouldn’t leave her with an obvious bulge - but she was still highly self-conscious of what was hidden underneath.

“So what did you want to get here?” the girl asked, nervously maintaining her hands at the hem of her dress.

“Well,” he began, “I did notice that package I gave you was running a bit l-”

“Oh my fucking god,” she cut him off, “You fucking asshole. You just brought me out here to buy diapers, didn’t you? You just want to fucking humiliate me, is that it?”

“Now, now,” Richard answered calmly, “no need to make a fuss. Yes, I may have needed to pick up a few of those, but I’m also happy to go shop for anything you like. My treat - it’s my way of thanking you for -” he paused and grinned, anticipating her grimace at his next word, “helping me with this project.”

Ann’s face turned red as she clenched her teeth. She wanted to scream that this was some trap, but she fought against the urge, not wanting to call attention to herself in this state. Plus, if he was being honest, this could be a chance for her to salvage her situation with a bit of material compensation.

And so, the girl led her boyfriend without a word to an upscale clothing outlet, handing him a basket to carry. For the next hour, she would fill it with anything that caught her eye, smiling gleefully as she snatched up the most extravagant items in the store. And Richard, for his part, said nothing.

That was, until he heard the girl’s stomach emit a familiar rumble.

“Uh oh…” he teased, “looks like someone’s gotta go.”

“It’s fine,” Ann rolled her eyes, “I can wait. I’d rather not deal with a public bathroom right now.” And with that, she went back to picking clothes, as her boyfriend shrugged silently and averted his gaze with a whistle.

It was only a few moments later, though, that a sudden and powerful cramp struck the girl, causing her to nearly drop the dress she was holding. With wide eyes and blush cheeks, the girl looked nervously around before admitting a change of heart.

“Berightback,” she blurted, and she darted off into the mall. And after putting their overflowing basket aside, her boyfriend ran after.

For a moment, Ann stopped and turned. “Don’t follow me!” she yelled, “I don’t need your fucking help, okay? I - I - oh god…”

The second cramp that hit, it seemed, was far more forceful than the first. There, in the mall’s corridor, Ann grunted as she felt her body pushing and pushing, a massive, mushy mess filling the back of her diaper.

She wanted to cry.

“There there, sweetie,” Richard said softly, “it’s okay. Why don’t we just make a quick run to the pharmacy, and then we’ll be off home and get you nice and clean, ‘kay?”

“You…” she grimaced, but she held back. Don’t make a scene here, she told herself, not here.

And so she went along, swallowing her tongue and her pride as he took her by the hand over to the mall’s small drugstore. But against his word, Richard seemed to be taking his sweet time, whistling as he carefully looked through the packages in the diaper aisle, before settling on one he liked.

“Oooh, this is perfect! A nice big package for you. Can you read how many diapies are in here?”

“Fuck off,” the girl whispered through gritted teeth, “I can read fine, asshole.”

“Oh?” the man countered with a condescending smile, “Go on, then.”

Fuming through her nose as she tried to contain her rage, the girl let her eyes drift to the package, finding nothing but incomprehensible symbols on it. Then, those eyes began to dart around the aisle, finding only the same on every other package and sign. And when she realized what it all meant, Ann snapped.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME?” she yelled, stomping her foot against the store rug, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME??”

“Now now, sweetie,” Richard smiled, putting aside the package he was holding, “there’s no need for that kind of language. Don’t forget we’re in a store now.”

“Fuck you,” the girl retorted, her face beet red as she landed another stomp on the floor, “Fuck you fuck you fu-”

In an instant, the girl found herself looking down at the floor, positioned with her full diaper facing up over her boyfriend’s knee.

“Tsk tsk tsk” he shook his head, stern but calm, “How many times did I warn you?”

*SMACK*

“Little girls like you shouldn’t be using such foul language.”

*SMACK*

“And now, this is what you get.”

*SMACK*

“Is that clear?”

Ann nodded behind watering eyes as she was let down onto her feet, her hand reaching to support her sore bottom as she winced at the sticky mess that had been pressed against it.

She would be silent for the rest of their mall trip, hiding her face behind her hands as her boyfriend checked out the new package of diapers, and looking away as they drove home. It was almost over, she told herself, remembering that there were only a few hours left before the day was up. This nightmare is almost over.

That only made it more shocking, however, when he led her back into their apartment to reveal what was once his office, redone completely into a full, adult-sized nursery, complete with a giant crib, soft pink-colored walls with infantile decorations, and a changing mat, onto which she found herself being placed.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he smiled, “I did a little redecorating while you were asleep last night. Thought you mind need this.”

“What the fuck,” the girl seethed, preparing to burst once more, “You fucking psycho…”

“Now, now,” he chided, “what did we say about naughty words?”

“I can say whatever the fuck I want!”

“Can you, now?”

The girl was ready to go off once more, but she was interrupted by a strange feeling. Her tongue, it seemed, was lost in her mouth, and all of the sounds she wanted to make seemed impossible.

“Ga…” she mustered, “ba… da…” but she simply couldn’t formulate a word.

“Oh, too bad,” Richard commented, unable to fully hide his chuckle at the girl’s state, “Seems like someone’s lost her train of thought. And it’s such a shame, because I’m sure you really wanted to ask for me to undo this hypnosis.

“But that’s not going to happen now, because you went and said those words again - I can. So sad, really - you could have probably figured it out when you were still smart enough, but instead you went and insulted me and my work, thinking you were so much better than all of it.

“I guess it can’t be helped. I guess that’s just the girl you are - or at least, the one you were. Thinking you were better than everyone else, thinking you could do anything. And that’s exactly why I had to teach you this lesson.”

Ann lay in wide-eyed shock as she soaked in the revelation. Her mind raced as she tried to find a way out, a way to escape being this oversized baby, unable to speak a word, being changed out of a full, wet, messy diaper before being put down into her crib for a nap.

But she couldn’t.

[busines-as-unusual]

˖ ࣪ ⭑⟡Chapter 9 - And How Do You Manage? ⟡⭑ ࣪ ˖

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Content Warning in this chapter for: sexual harrasment, unwanted touching, and bad puns

You were sick. More so than usual.

Ever since that night with Alastor, you had a knot in your stomach that refused to go away.

Thankfully there was no shortage of work to keep your mind too busy to ruminate. Work with the hotel was smooth sailing. Music was planned, auditions wrapped up— as predicted Angel got a lead role— and rehearsals were underway. Between that and running your bar, you had no time to dwell on how Alastor caught you during a horrifically vulnerable and revealing moment.

You didn’t fixate on how tipsy you got and how that made you bold enough to initiate touch with Alastor. Or how he didn’t push you away and how amazing that felt. Not a single time. Especially not at night when you tried to sleep.

You certainly didn’t think about how whenever you and Alastor met in the hotel to review event progression he treated you no differently than before. How he behaved like his usual cordial, charming, irritating self, and never mentioned what happened that night.

You absolutely did not consider how he caught you at your lowest, knew your greatest shame, how he saw you… and nothing had changed.

Did you appreciate that? Or did you resent him for crossing that boundary with you without permission? Did that change the nature of your relationship with Alastor? Or was it foolish to consider that at all? Maybe it was foolish to think any of this mattered. Would ruminating on this drive you mad? Was that what Alastor wanted? Was that his game plan?

You didn’t know because you weren't even thinking about those things. None of these thoughts crossed your mind, not once, not one time.

And you definitely weren’t looking for Alastor as you, Charlie, and Vaggie assessed the hotel’s amphitheater. Nope! You were a businesswoman doing serious business things with professional-level focus.

The hotel’s amphitheater was beautifully grand: Plush red leather chairs wrapped around in a semicircle of the large golden stage with ornate apple designs and a tall satin curtain, white instead of red. Chandeliers made of hundreds of multicolored crystals sparkled overhead.

You couldn’t have imagined a better place for the performances. A part of you worried there were too many seats, but Charlie was confident every one would be filled. For whatever reason, you trusted her gut.

Crew members scurried around, cleaning or testing equipment. A flash of red in the corner of your eye; your head swiveled so fast your neck cracked. It was Niffty, scurrying along the seats and chasing some fuzzy, bug-like vermin with a sewing needle, getting close but no cigar.

“Hey, Niffty,” you called. She eyed the critter with a murderous intent before scrambling over with her usual big, happy, smile.

You fished out one of the knives from your garter and presented it to her. Instead of taking it, she stared wide-eyed in awe at you; The Lady of the Lake handing her Excalibur.

Charlie and Vaggie frowned with concern. Vaggie waved a hand in front of Niffty’s face. “Uh… Nifft? You good?”

Finally she spoke, her voice quiet. “Am I worthy?”

You played along. “The worthiest, my dear.”

Cackling, Niffty snatched the knife and jumped back into the hunt, weaving through crew members’ legs and knocking a few of them over. She chased the varmint onto the stage.

You cupped your hands, shouting, “Save me the bones!”

“Gotcha!”

Niffty swan dived off the stage and chased the critter out of the amphitheater, laughing like a mad woman drunk on power.

Oh god, what have you done?

You turned to the girls. “I’ll take full responsibility for the damages.”

“Oh, don’t worry about her.” Charlie waved away your concern, her smile uncertain. “I’m sure it’ll be fine—”

A distant shriek of pain— that could’ve been from anyone for any reason— confirmed her sentiment.

“Anyway!” Charlie clapped her hands and spun on her heels. “Things look like they’re going well here. How about we meet with Husk and go over the refreshment situation?”

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

The wall behind your headboard was thoroughly wrecked; peeling paint and crumbling plaster revealed the ragged brick underneath. Once again, your talent for picking lovers was a blessing and a curse.

Mostly a blessing.

You called some of your employees to have it fixed, and figured you might as well have the room repainted while they were at it. The whole process would be a few days at most.

Your home was made to entertain guests, not keep them. You needed a place to stay in the meantime, so you packed some clothes and your essentials and did what you promised yourself never to do… you checked into the Hazbin Hotel.

You could’ve stayed with Mimzy, it’s been a while since you’ve seen her. Or with Rosie and caught her up to date about all those things you weren’t ruminating on. You had plenty of acquaintances who would’ve let you crash on their couch for a few nights, but in the end you succumbed to impulses you knew would bite you in the ass later. You were a child told not to touch a hot stove… in this weird metaphor where you were also the mother telling yourself not to touch the hot stove.

You were your own worst enemy. Maybe your mother was right.

An energetic Charlie greeted you at the hotel, oh-so happy you’d be staying for a few days, followed by Angel, oh-so happy to finally have a night off from dealing with Valentino’s bullshit.

A night like this couldn’t go to waste, so Angel called Cherrie, and you along with Husk hit up Consent, the nightclub you’ve heard so much about.

It was either that or stick around and risk having an awkward conversation with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Ruminated-On.

Of course, you had to change out of what Cherrie had poetically dubbed, “old granny lingerie.” You wrangled together an outfit more befitting of a modern setting. You had a short wine-colored dress you accessorized with a leather chest harness with Succubi wings (because you used every excuse to wear it in and out of the bedroom). Once Cherrie squished your cleavage and mussed up your hair, you were deemed acceptable to leave the hotel.

Modern clubs weren’t really your style, but Consent was a pretty decent joint. The place was teeming with infectious positive vibes and the music was decent. At least you had a great time shaking your ass after a couple shots.

The thumping music and flashing lights moved you, and for a while your mind was free and blissfully numb as you danced with the Cherrie and Angel (drinking was more Husk’s speed). Cherrie ribbed you for how you danced, while conversation with Husk was a welcomed reprieve from the dance floor. The entire night, Angel insisted on taking pictures with everyone between shots of tequila and shots of even more tequila.

Speaking of which, it was your turn to buy drinks for the group. You brought them over to the corner table where your friends gathered and presented them all with a flourish and a big, drunken grin. “Voila, mes amis! Afterlife-saving alcohol. Buvons!”

“Don’t spill the good shit!” Cherrie laughed, helping you set the drinks on the table.

The four of you toasted with your shot glasses before shooting them back. It burned deliciously all the way down, warming your cheeks and relaxing your muscles.

You slammed the glass on the table with a big, contented sigh. “Ah! Just what I needed.”

“You’re telling me,” Angel said. “You’ve been tense for days. Somethin’ happen, toots? Ya ain’t getting laid enough?”

“Pffft! No! To both. I’ve been… overworked, ‘sall.” A very convincing dismissive wave of your hand. “Y’know with the event and my club and… stuff.”

Husk mmm-hmmed knowingly, eying you but staying quiet. As long as you’ve known him, he could see right through anyone and everyone. His six sense was what made him such a good gambler, good enough to be quite the Overlord, once upon a time.

“Well, maybe there’s been something… but it’s whatever, y’know. Hardly interesting at all.”

Cherrie leaned in, playfully jostling your shoulder. “C’mon! Spill it, bitch. You’re drunk enough to overshare.”

You considered it for a moment. Alastor already knew about the worst thing to ever happen to you. Telling these three how you felt about him couldn’t be any worse… or if it was, your fuzzy brain couldn’t produce the reasons.

Your fingers drummed the table. “I’ve been suffering… from a certain infliction…involving Alastor.”

“Certain inflict— the fuck are you on about?”

“She means she has it bad for Alastor,” Husk said before taking another swig of his drink.

Your fists pounded the table, mortified. “Husker!”

“What? It’s the fucking truth.”

“Seriously?” Angel asked in genuine surprise. “You have a thing for Freaky Face?”

Cherrie laughed. “Well fuck me double dead!”

You covered your face with both hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“Pretty much.” Husk shrugged. “I have no reason to give a fuck and I still noticed.”

You groaned, and dropped your face flat on the table, drinks clattering from the force.

“You wanna fuck the creep?” Angel asked.

“What?!” You lifted your head, chin on the table.

“I said…” He cupped his hand to his mouth and yelled over the music, “‘You wanna the creep?!’” His outburst earned your table a few semi-interested side glances from passers’by.

“Oh!” You laughed, flopping backwards in the booth. “Abso-bloody-lutely! The moment I saw him I wanted to jump his bones.”

Actually, the thought that ran through your head the night you first laid eyes on the drop-dead gorgeous stranger with the glasses and killer smile was that he looked like danger, vice, and sin… and that he probably ate people. It’s what spurred you on to steal him away for yourself.

No one ever said you were a well woman.

“Hold on a sec.” Cherrie brow creased over her eye and looked at you skeptically. “Ya serious with me right now?”

“Of course. Have you seen him?”

“Exactly why I'm askin’.”

You scoffed. “You must have cataracts because he is so goddamn fine, a certified looker and I am always looking. Very disrespectfully, I might add.”

“Look,” Angel said. “I'm not saying he's unattractive—”

“I am.” Husk and Cherrie said in unison.

“—but he's, like, the physical embodiment of a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“He is, isn't he?” You sighed dreamily, slanted smile on your face at the thought of Alastor. “I remember the first time I saw him grow in size to eat a person whole. He unhinged his jaw like a goddamn snake. I couldn’t sleep for days! And those weird magic tendrils he has make me—”

“No!” Husk held his hand, his face awash with absolute disgust. “No. Stop, goddammit. I’m trying to keep this shit down tonight.” He took a swig of his drink, as if to wash down your train of thought like vile medicine.

“Twenty or thirty years ago, I saw him with his coat off and his sleeves rolled up. His bare arms?” You fanned yourself dramatically at the memory. “Oh! I could double die!”

Cherrie laughed, smacking the table. “Girl, come on! You’re actin’ like some Victorian prude seeing ankles for the first time.”

“Sounds about right. I was raised by two of them.”

Angel frowned. “I thought you lived around my neck of the woods?”

“Mon ami.” You put a hand on his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “They’re called boats.”

He flipped you off with three-fourths of his hands; you and Cherrie burst out laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Angel waved away your jest. “So Creepy Face makes you dehydrated, huh? Why haven’t you jumped his spooky bones yet?”

I cringed like he suggested I chew on broken glass for fun. “Be serious, Angel. You live with the man. You think he’d ever be receptive to <i>anyone</i> jumping his spooky bones?”

A shrug of both sets of shoulders. “Eh, fair. I always got the feeling he didn’t play on any team.”

“And that’s fine, y’know? I don’t want to change him or anything, but when it comes to Alastor…” You grabbed another shot and swished the clear liquid around in the small glass. “I’m a dizzy yuck carrying a torch for the gigglemug and I’m going mad as a box of frogs.”

“Uh, in fucking English please?” Cherrie asked.

“She means she’s down baaa-aaad.” Angel sing-songed, waggling his brows.

Cherrie chortled, throwing you a look of mock sympathy. “Aww! You want him to be ya <i>boyfriend</i>, ya sentimental mug?”

They laughed, and Husk shook his head in pity.

Thoroughly humiliated, you finished your shot. Then two more… and then one last shot for good luck. “Thank you all for the wonderful evening. Excuse me while I go play in traffic.”

You stood, but Angel grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back down. “Relax, toots. We’re just razzing ya.”

“Yeah, chill out, ya drama queen!” Cherrie slid over one of Husk’s tall glasses of alcohol, much to his annoyance. “Here’s what you’ll do. Down some liquid courage and screw the next guy you see. Random dick best medicine for a broken heart.”

Your nervous laughter was unconvincing even to your drunken ears. “A broken whaaaaat are you talking about? You… silly little lady.”

Cherrie rolled her eye. “Uh huh. Start chugging, skank!”

Husk argued this was a terrible idea, and Angel ended up playing mediator between him and Cherrie. You heard none of it as you downed a pint of whatever in six seconds. It was sweet and terrible, like dirty sugared nail polish.

A rush of warmth rolled through you under your skin, making you shudder. You stood with the empty glass, holding it by the rim. “Mish we luck, darlings!” Purposely, you dropped the glass, and ignored the shouts of protest around you as you bantered back onto the dance floor.

It didn’t take long for an over eager demon to approach you. You’d spotted him eyeing you earlier but didn’t pay him much mind. He was some type of weasel-faced demon with jagged teeth and a jacket over a garish button up.

You stilled as unwanted hands snaked over your hips from behind, making your skin crawl. Cologne flooded your nose, making you gag.

“Hey, honey tits. You’ve been dancing all night. Why don’tcha kick up your feet and sit on my face a while?”

No fucking thanks.

You looked at him over your shoulder, red lips curled into an unamused smile. “That couldn’t have worked for you before.”

He chuckled with unwarranted smugness; rancid beer breath wafted over your cheek. “Come on, sexy.” A squeeze of your hips, an unwelcomed hump against your ass. “Bet I can show you a good time.”

“For some reason, I’m doubtful.” You wiggled from his grip and turned to face him. “I must ask you to, respectfully, piss off. But please do have a terrific night, you noisome sack of soiled taint.”

You turned to walk away, but he grabbed at you again like he had the right, tugging on your tail, hard.

The ghost of a smile lived on your face as you swallowed down a terrified yelp. “You’re gonna take your fucking hand off me.”

He scowled like you were piss on the sidewalk he stepped in. “Look at Roman’s favorite little slut thinking she’s better than she is—”

A flash around your fist; you introduced his mouth to your brass knuckles. The bones in his jaw caved before he crumbled like a ton of bricks at your feet. All at once the music cut out as dozens of eyes suddenly locked on you and the man you sucker punched.

Your friends at the table stared at you, stunned. “What the hell?” Husk shouted. “It hasn’t even been a minute!”

“Oh shit!” A group of about ten or so men ran to the passed out bastard at your feet. “Oi, what the fuck! You killed Ricky!”

The bastard in question stirred, rolled over, and spat out a few bloodied teeth.

You motioned to him like a sack of laundry. “Ricky’s right as rain, fellas. What’s the problem?”

No surprise, you were the problem, if the several guns aimed at your chest were any indication. Angel, Cherrie, and Husk rushed to your side, guns, bombs, and cards out in defense.

Fist to jaw, you cracked your neck from side to side. “So you wanna dance?” You grabbed one of your thigh knives and flicked it, the blade extending to the length of your forearm. “Let’s cut a rug!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Cherrie whooped, tossing a bomb up and catching it with one hand. “Let’s fuckin’ go!”

And fuckin’ go you did.

You rushed the nearest goon. Ducking under his firing gun, your blade cleaved clean through his kneecaps. He howled and toppled over, severed legs left standing right, blood spurting like a busted fountain.

Soon the battle unfolded into a blur of carnage and unadulterated violence. The crowd, desperate not to get hit in the crossfire, screamed and fled out the door in droves. A flurry of bullets, blood, and explosions rocked the building. You caught glimpses of the others through the chaos and smoke: Angel gunned down the larger guys in the back. Husk, quick as a whip, threw his playing cards, slicing through torsos and necks. Cherrie threw her bombs with reckless abandon, her laughter accented with explosions. And you twirled light on your feet, slicing and dicing with experienced ease.

The smoke cleared, the fight ending faster than it started, the night capped off with the four of you surrounded by massacred bodies and rubble. You ended up cutting a juicy fat check to the extremely pissed off owner.

The four of you rode the high of victory all the way back to the hotel, laughing and talking way louder than necessary. After exchanging good nights, you shuffled to your room, singing under your breath and rummaging your purse for your room key.

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras… Il me parle tout basaaassSHIT!”

Where was your key? You dug through your purse, even dumped the contents on the floor. Lipstick, condoms, and spare tampons spilled on the floor, but not your room key.

Shit.

Shit shit shit!

Husk wouldn’t be able to get you a second key until morning, and you had no idea what room he or Angel slept in. That left…

“… shit.”

You knocked on the door three times. Thirty seconds passed, a minute, the silence painfully deafening. You contemplated sleeping in the lounge when the door to the Radio Tower eased open.

“Ah, salut!” You leaned on the door frame and nearly stumbled. Despite your nerves, you couldn’t hide your dopey happy grin. “There's the man I wanted to see!”

Alastor's permanent smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Temerity! What brings you here at this hour? And in such a state?”

Oh, right. Once again you stood before Alastor splattered in the blood of your enemies. You two had to stop meeting like this.

“Listen, my door is all—” You clicked your tongue and pantomimed turning a key in a door. “And I need you.”

“To unlock your door?”

“… yes, that.”

A look flashed across his face you had no hope of discerning while inebriated. He stepped through the door and whirled his microphone behind him.

“I see! Well, I’m more than happy to be of assistance!”

You figured he’d use his freaky voodoo/hoodoo powers to summon a key, instead he strolled down the hall. Seconds passed before your three remaining brain cells figured out you should follow him. Alastor stopped in front of your room door. This was his way of messing with you, letting you know he knew where you slept.

…or maybe you were paranoid, but what was more likely?

Once at your door, he tapped it with his cane and the door eased open with a glowing green light. “There you are, my dear!”

“Merci beaucoup, Al-a-stor~”

You blew him a kiss and spun into the room, confidently inelegant. Alastor couldn’t help his hum of amusement. Even this sloppily drunk he found you to be more amusing than unsavory.

Alastor turned to leave when a terrified “Oh, bollocks!” stopped him in his tracks. Seeing you dig through your bra was not what he expected.

“Wait! Never mind.” You pulled your hand free and dropped three small white blobs on the dresser with a clatter. Teeth, Alastor realized. Sharp and jagged canine-like teeth.

A twitch in his eye as he regarded you. “Temerity, why were there teeth in your undergarments?”

“They’re not mine.”

Speechless. He was speechless, brow furrowed, head tilted to the side. Your blasé attitude left him with more questions.

You seemed to mistake his expression for annoyance. “‘m sorry about this. I know it’s late. I bet you were sleep sleep.”

“Not at all, actually.” He and insomnia had a complex relationship, to say the very least.

“Why? Because sleep is the cousin of death, or because it’s stupid?” You struggled with the lascivious harness strapped across your chest, pulling it off with so much force you nearly fell on your back. “We’re dead! Why do we even need to sleep? Or eat? Or have sex?”

Well, he could agree with two out of three of those things.

Alastor casually dusted off an outstretched sleeve and fixed his suit. “A very astute question, my dear. I’m afraid you’d have to ask the feathered schmucks stairs,” he said, using your own words from the other night.

You snorted, laughing behind a blood-speckled hand. “Alastor! Lord, you alway make me laugh…”

You rolled on your stomach, swinging your feet in the air and beaming at him with pure admiration, expression unfiltered due to your intoxication. “Remember that time at the bar? Those clods yapped and yapped about their old ladies, going on and on, and they started needling you about ‘your gal’ and you went—” you sat and cleared your throat, pushing up imaginary glasses. “‘My gal made a great meal, but I sure do miss her!’”

Alastor’s eye twitched. Your impression of him left much to be desired.

He didn’t listen as you went on to describe the night, because he recalled it clearly. He remembered that night decades ago at the speakeasy Mimzy worked. He’d spent many a night there schmoozing, drinking, dancing, prowling for possible prey.

In particular Alastor remembered the dark-haired, bright-eyed woman with far too much confidence who spirited him away to the dance floor, proudly declaring, “You look like a fella with stamina! You’re my partner now!”

He remembered sitting at the bar with you after hours of dancing and a few drinks in, hazy with smoke and surrounded by faceless dregs who jabbered on and on about uninteresting manners. His joke— really his attempt to steer the conversation off course— was received well by you alone.

Smile lines crinkled around your eyes as you snorted. Without skipping a beat, you said, “How sweet! My man only gives me the cold shoulder.”

He grinned, hardly noticing or caring when the others retreated from the bar. “To think he’d treat a dame like you so poorly. How tasteless.”

An exaggerated head shake. “I’m thinking of throwing him out.”

“In that case, I’d love to have you for dinner sometime.”

You leaned in, your permanent self-assured grin replaced with one of girlhood giddiness, in stark contrast to the jokes about cannibalism. “As long as it doesn’t—“ you stifled a laugh, “doesn’t cost you an arm and a leg!”

“Of course not, dear! Perhaps afterwards we can have a nice chat over a cup of Joe.”

You lost it, conceding to him the win in the battle of cheesy puns as you giggled like mad and wiped away tears.

Back in the present you swiped at tears of laughter and threw yourself back on the bed. “We were so dumb! It wasn’t even funny, I just—” A deep yawn rolled through you, “…appreciated your commitment… to the bit…”

You went silent, a soft rumble as your breathing deepended, and you fell sound asleep in an instant. Alastor would almost admire the ability… if it wasn’t simply because you were drunk. He’d seen you tipsy before, from afar at functions. Even when you two met you weren’t as wasted as this.

In your inebriated state you didn’t know what you revealed. Despite your candor about discussing your life on earth, you never mentioned your shared history with Alastor before meeting again in Hell. He thought you’d forgotten, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

He had to keep that in mind.

While brief, meeting you was a splendidly memorable night. At the time, he regretted never having the chance to meet with you again, despite your insistence that the two of you should. Someone like you was a rare fine, a true gem among the clods.

Alastor sensed you held similar secrets to him. Not necessarily that you killed people, but he could tell you protected yourself with charisma, hid behind smiles, and kept your true identity hidden within the depths of your soul. Despite your charm and wit, none of the people in your entourage stayed by your side as the night progressed.

Perhaps if one had you wouldn’t have met your fate that night…

Well! Enough reminiscing for one night! It was time for him to return to his Radio Tower, but once again something stopped him.

He looked over your sleeping form. Gentle snoring rumbled in your chest like distant thunder, a soft exhale escaped your parted lips. Your blood red heels (that most likely weren’t that color when you put them on) dangled over the foot of the bed.

His smile twisted as he took in your vulnerable sleeping body. What was it you said to him the night he found you, splashed with crimson in the same manner? Only an absolute fool would trust him absolutely.

Yet here you were, willing to be vulnerable in his presence.

Alastor could only fathom falling asleep in front of Rosie, but their relationship was the exception that proved the rule. While he meant you no physical harm and knew you didn’t fear him, it was appalling to him you’d choose to put yourself in this position.

Frankly, it was pure foolishness.

Perhaps the alcohol was to blame, but he doubted it. Coming to him was one option of many and you chose him. You trusted him.

For reasons he didn’t quite understand he found himself kneeling at the foot of your bed, ready to remove your heels.

It would’ve been more interesting to do this when you were awake. After all, most of the joy of violating one’s personal space came from annoying them, drawing expressions and reactions from them by mere proximity.

Would you be appalled and act disgusted by him violating your boundaries? Perhaps given your state you’d finally give in and confess to him. That could be fun, but nowhere near as satisfying if you did it clear headed, cognisant of the consequences.

Alastor found himself doing it anyway, gently slipping off one at a time and setting them aside. He knew first hand one shouldn’t sleep with shoes on.

Your skin flecked with blood reminded him of that night he saw your mask shattered in the perfect marriage of theatrics and brutality. His eyes glance to the blood smattering the fat of your thighs. An unfamiliar pang ached in the center of his being, a feeling he could only register as hunger.

How peculiar…

The feeling caught him by utter surprise. His taste in flesh never included friends; his psyche deemed them off limits and he was unable to view them as food.

But looking at you defenseless and covered in blood— like a wounded lamb purposefully dragging itself into the lion’s den— the uncomfortable longing stirring in him had to be hunger…

Alastor stood, more quickly than necessary, forcing his eyes off you and onto your room. Then he saw something that forced that feeling to rise into his chest, a final revelation before he vanished into the shadows.

Your radio from home sat on the nightstand.

A/N: Sorry I haven’t uploaded in a while. I got really depressed, got addicted to ai chatbots, and forgot how to write…

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pining for you.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader   ━ masterlist

━ about: sister of "you assume it's unrequited.txt" this one from the boys' POV; angst + light fluff

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ sorry for the shortness of Tae's piece, it just felt right to begin and end with those sentences

━ leave a comment or I’ll drown you in a tub of money. If you like my work and want to tip, here's my ko-fi. Thank you so much if you do!

KNJ | Frankly — irrationally and irrevocably — Kim Namjoon hates your guts.

Rude, conceited, disagreeable. An ill-mannered hamster of a person!

Kind, smart. Different.

Different.

Was that why it usually takes him two whole days to muster up enough courage to speak to you? Or was the situation as a whole something more base — he desired that certain someone because they utterly and unmistakably wanted nothing to do with him?

Be that as it may, he needed rules. Rules for his status, rules for his peace of mind. Rules for his rapidly deteriorating mood. Why continue to pursue a person who runs away from you? Who didn’t like you at all; not even a little bit? Logically it made absolutely no sense. 

With a deep, exhausted groan, he lets his head fall against the overcrowded desk of his unlit studio. 

“Follow the rules, Namjoon,” he breathes out, feeling the rush of warm air reflect from the wood underneath. “Follow the rules and you should be fine.”

There were only five of them. after all. He ought to manage.

Rule no. 5: don’t think too personally about anything they do.

People showed menial kindness every single day of their lives. These were just gestures, acknowledging nods of the bond created between a person and a society at large. If the corners of your lips quirked as he was telling a joke it wasn’t because you thought of him as incredibly funny but it was because you were humouring him yourself. Should you happen to leave a note on his schedule: “Jaehyun told Sae who told me you needed 17th free for family reasons. It’s been arranged. Happy visit!” then it only meant that you were good at your job. He didn’t dispute that. Though Namjoon suspects he’s not doing all that good of a work with this rule — every single time your shoulder brushes past his, as you quickly make your way to whatever destination called you next,  his heart, unfailingly, unflinchingly, skips a beat. 

Rule no.4: no intruding upon your life.

He’s not intruding. Offering to get coffee and a pastry is not intruding. You haven’t eaten! You always wait for the last minute and if anything this was for collective good! Should you faint and an ambulance would have to be called, work day comes to a grinding halt! So he was merely thinking of it as a team effort, that’s all!

“Yeah,” he thinks to himself with a tired sigh, holding the bag of two breads in his hand. One for him and you. “I don’t think I’m good at this rule, either.”

Rule no.3: no personal contact or affection. 

Line upon line, he traces the bold black letters of the notes littered across his fridge. In some cases, the marker has soaked the paper to the point of tearing. 

NO HOLDING HANDS! he reads as a reminder while brushing his teeth in the morning. 

NO BUMPS ON THE SHOULDER! mocks the writing on his bathroom mirror as he spits the damn toothpaste out. 

“No holding you in his embrace,” he softly whispers to himself, hearing you cry on the other side of the ajar door. 

But maybe…!

His fingers freeze around the door knob and with a bated breath he waits. 

But maybe…!

He proceeds to curl his palm into a fist, closing the door softly closed.

No maybe’s.

No holding you in his embrace. 

Rule no.2: limit personal time spent together. 

That you seemed to be taking care finely by yourself. It hasn’t escaped him — the mad scramble you threw yourself in whenever he appeared. Across the stage, across the hall, across a busied street. Didn’t matter what conditions and barriers stood before you, recklessly you threw yourself over them, all but fleeing away.

Did it hurt? Yes. 

But was it for the best? Yes. 

“Fuck what’s for the best,” he sulks to himself, angrily punching the keyboard of his computer.

However, because Namjoon's life was nothing but a puppet show and he was indeed the puppet that’s on the stage getting repeatedly thwacked by a bat, the harder he tried to stay away from you, the more he found himself in your presence. 

Noticing you approaching from the other side of the hallway, nose buried into a file, he, guided by nothing but pure-minded intentions, decides to spare you the running away and bolts into what he presumed to be an empty cupboard. Moments later you walk into his chest and only then he notices your name plastered across the door. 

He walked straight into an office. 

But as bad as he is observing all those rules, as much as he often breaks them quite knowingly, it’s but a mere echo of how much he can’t observe rule no.1.

rule no.1: out of sight, out of mind

Out of sight perhaps but out of mind? He wouldn’t dream of it. In fact if he does dream then you’re it. Every song, every laughter of another pair, every line in a poem and brush stroke of a painting. 

You, you, you. 

Frankly — irrationally and irrevocably — Kim Namjoon hates your guts. And just like someone whom he doesn’t remember said, the thing he hated most about you was that he didn’t hate you at all. 

MYG | "9,000,000₩...no, more like 10,000,000₩."

"What are you doing?"

Throwing a thoroughly accusing glare over the rim of his glasses, Jimin coolly replies:

"I'm calculating the sum of money you'll have to pay for your crimes."

"What crimes would those be?"

"Stalking," taking an overtly smarmy sip from his iced coffee pinky outstretched and all, Jimin observes tiredly groaning Yoongi.

"Not this again," he huffs irately. "How many times? I'm not stalking. We're just friends."

"Friends," Jimin snorts as though what Yoongi said was at least decently hilarious. "Friends, my ass."

"Well if that's how you treat them."

From the sour expression alone Yoongi gathers the sentiments that Jimin wanted to hurtle at him and truly he was far too drained to hear any of them.

"I'm off," curtly, he tosses over his shoulder, gathering up his coat. Jimin's eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

"Already?"

"It'll stick that way," Yoongi points a finger at the other man's befuddled expression before promptly shutting the doors behind. Perhaps he did hear the bellowed question — "are you really going to see that bartender again?" — but he did not regard it. So what if he did? Taehyung had tens if not dozens of friends and no one ever gave him a hard time because of it.

Walking through the familiar haphazard turns which spun his way towards you, the blinding light of apothecary suddenly reminds him. Right, the patches.

"Thank you! Come again soon!"

Politely, Yoongi nods at the young woman's words, reflexively pursing his lips into a pinched smile behind the black mask. Calmly and silently he walks the by now usual route to your bar, occasionally thumbing at the nicotine patches in the pocket of his coat. Quitting for him wasn't exactly easy or difficult per se — there was simply no incentive for him to care all that much. Sure, he knew it was bad for his health but...so? So what? However, now he's found a certain kind of joy in quitting, even if he wholeheartedly believes these patches were nothing but a frankly lazy cash grab. This is your thing with him. He gets to share something with you. Like a human to a human. When you smile he knows it's not because you have to, not because he's a paying patron but because you like him.

And Min Yoongi happens to very much like you too. By now it's redundant to hide away from the truth or be so conceited about the fact, he'd sit here like a fucking fool denying the reality. It's not quitting an unhealthy habit that has him escaping work more, that has his legs racing to get to trash bins of all the places in the world. Who could have known a dingy side alley would become a piece of deluded home?

And sure, you probably don't like him like that, certainly you won't once the truth of his identity will come out, as it always does, but he's fine with it, as long as he can still keep seeing you. Seeing you as just himself — without the pretense.

Plus he has plenty of chances to tease you about living under a rock.

When he finds you, you’re looking like a roadkill. Hair frazzled, hands wringing nervously as you pace — a sign of nicotine craving hitting bad. Your face is scrunched up in deep worry and wrinkles line your forehead with thorough dedication. 

Min Yoongi couldn’t be any fonder. 

Before he has the chance to roast you to hell and back, you notice him across the swirling shadows of the alleyway, throwing your hands into the air. 

“I thought you would never show up! Gimme!”

You reach your grabby hands towards him and playfully, Yoongi scoffs. 

“Wine and dine me first, heathen. A guy can be more than a piece of ass you know. I have….feelings.” 

“You’re a demon on two legs and a good skincare,” irately, you hiss and for a second Yoongi does think you would just rip the coat off him in search for the damn patches. He wouldn't…

…necessarily mind. 

Khem. 

He peels the patch out from his pocket and smacks it right into the middle of your forehead. With a deeply exhausted groan, you slide down the wall.  

“I hate bachelorettes,” the miserable cocoon whimpers.

Yes, Yoongi knew as much. This was strictly a piece of knowledge you probably should never know but the first time he came here a bachelorette was also taking place. Under normal circumstances he would make a hasty exit but the stream of inebriated, overjoyed women had blocked all his possible routes of escape so he had no choice but to dwell like a malicious goblin at the far side of the bar in the hopes that they won’t take that long. The seat that he’d been forced into was next to the doors to the staff room and it was here that he first saw you. Or rather he heard you. Cursing. With such colour and speed that two things flashed through his mind:

with some training you’d make a decent rapper

damn, that vocabulary has my ears getting red. 

By the end of the night, he left you a big, big tip, stuffing the wads of cash into his emptied whiskey glass and hiding it behind the bar where only you could find it. Tossing one last glimpse over his shoulders, wading through the mass of party streamers and spare boa feathers, he saw your disheveled form. As tired as you were, you were holding onto the small girl — Sara was it? — patting her on the back like your own child, assuring you’d cover for her tomorrow so she could rest. 

Good. Even then he could sense that you were good. And watching down upon you now, just as disheveled and tired but still inherently good, he was happy he’d raced to meet you out here on one of his prevalent uh…”people watching” activities that just so happened to center around this bar. 

“STALKING!” Jimin’s voice unwittingly surges from the back of his head and he jolts in surprise of it. 

You lift your pitiful gaze from the backs of your hands and observe him quietly.

“Is your shoulder okay?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Cause you strained it two days ago—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

WHY?! WHY WAS HE DOING WHAT HE WAS DOING?!?

Min Yoongi, have you lost your mind, he scolds himself, harshly pulling his hand away. 

So he…he just caressed your cheek. That…was a thing that just happened. 

You both remain awkwardly quiet. 

“The nicotine craving is really getting to you, huh?” you chuckle thinly,  voice falling far,  far above the average tembre. 

“Yeah, I’m overwhelmed,” dryly, he retorts, pushing the hand that touched your cheek deep into the pocket of his coat.

I’m not going to wash it, is his first thought. That’s fucking gross, is the second. 

“Why is your face all red?” you inquire curiously. 

“None of your business!” 

KSJ |  Because one inevitably lives in a society there are certain rules and roles one has to observe. Jin for the most part has managed to break out of the mold that was so surely set for him. Becoming an idol did inadvertently saddle him with some expectations of how he should act and in what words that act ought to be shrouded in but it didn’t change the fact that a son of a CEO, no matter how humble that company was, ran off one day and became an idol. 

As long as the rules only involved himself he was quite ready to do what he pleased. But this was…different. His role didn’t just involve you, it was because of you. 

He’d never seen his father so serious as he was on that day when he pulled Jin aside and somberly whispered.  

“I’m not saying that the kid is bad,” you were already adult then. “But that family is no good, Jin. Just…it’d be better for both of you if you’d forget it, son.”

His throat had then been full with the beat of his heart. By that point the attraction he had for you was simmering in the back of his mind. He thought he’d concealed it fine enough, letting the curious surprise at how you turned out to be sit in the confines of his privacy but apparently not. His father had tossed him the last knowing glance and mingled back into the party, leaving Jin to stand in his corner confused and suddenly cold. 

But if society was a peculiar thing, then a mind was even more so. 

Because for some reason Jin’s mind decided to obsess over that one person on the earth who had the personality of a power tool. 

“Two years of my life.”

“Yoongi, please, this isn’t about you,” Jin whimpers miserably, sound falling muffled as his face is pressed tightly against the bedcover. “Give me some sympathy!”

“I have none.”

Jin is not quite certain how he manages it but even Yoongi’s disembodied voice carries its frustration so clearly, he can almost see the man in front of his eyes.

“Because of you, for two years of my life I had to listen to how beautiful they are, how clever. “Did you know they graduated in the top 5 in their university?! Yoongi, top 5!” I even had to organize to send them flowers on graduation from a secret admirer because of that bullshit feud your family has with theirs.” 

The last part he scoffs. 

Jin scrambles up from the bed. 

“Can we get to the most important part here?” he huffs, bringing the phone closer to his mouth. 

“And what would that be?”

“Me!”

The roll of Yoongi’s eyes is almost audible. 

“And what about you? So you kissed them and chickened out. What’s more to it?”

“wHAT’S MORE TO IT?!” Only barely Jin manages to pull in a meditative breath, in order to not project his left lung all the way back to Korea. “What’s more to it?!” he hisses. “I’m supposed to be a brotherly figure. At best! They’re younger than me—”

“They’re still an adult.”

“I’ve known them since we were kids!”

“Real meet-cute, what can I say?”

“It’s just-It’s just! It’s just not meant to be!”

“If it’s not meant to be, why did you kiss them at all?”

Jin doesn’t reply and after a moment he drops the call entirely, leaving Yoongi to ruefully sigh in his dark studio. 

“I fucking hate slow burns,” he grumbles. 

Rolling out of the bed, Jin dejectedly waddles through the door. It’s the middle of the night, safe to say everyone else was sleeping. Why did he kiss you, he ponders waddling to the kitchen, why indeed. A brotherly figure was definitely not supposed to do that, doesn’t matter if you were just a close friend of his cousin or not. But then why had you embraced him last summer?

As your hands came up to form circle around his waist and with your breath reeking heavily of alcohol and the pink boa slipping down one of your shoulders, dragging limply behind like a tail, why did you have to mutter into his chest how much you liked him? That he was guilty for the suffering he’d caused you? Previously Jin was quite content with pining you from afar, indulging in the idea of you rather than the real you which would bear consequences for both of you but with you clinging onto him he had glimpsed behind the veil and the veil refused to close. 

At times, he became tempestuous, gaming angrily while casting furtive glances at the phone, weighing the options of giving you a call. Why shouldn’t he be with you? After all that he’s had to sacrifice and give up, his father should have no choice about the turns in his life!

But…he always weighed against it. The matter wasn’t just about him but it was about you as well and because of it…he’d rather not act. He’d follow the role he was set to act, dignified and polite, he would be what he should be and not give you any hard time. 

That is until, just as dignified and polite, you cast yourself in an entirely different role — corner him one day at a beach, the last day of a vacation, and there atop of the cold sand with an ease and grace of a century passed, you kiss him, forever changing the meaning of the word “love”.

JH | Dacquoise? Or perhaps an opera cake? Both could potentially be too sweet. But dacquoise looked pretty, however, opera cake had chocolate and one couldn’t go wrong with chocolate…

“Shopping for your girlfriend, mister?” the girl by the counter asks sweetly and immediately Hoseok smiles behind the mask. Lately just the thought of you tugged at the corners of his lips with a heavy hand. 

“No, it’s actually for my,” the smile flickers “Teacher.”

In the end, he leaves the shop with a sizable chunk of swiss roll.

Bad Hoseok, crazy Hoseok, dummy Hoseok, he curses himself, trailing despondently down the road. Who would be so moronic as to start crushing on his own tutor? 

“Ah, really, you’ve lost your shit, brother,” he mutters underneath the nose, falling heavily against someone's apartment building, careful not to damage the swiss roll dangling in the crook of his elbow. 

“Mr Jung?” 

Hoseok disjoined himself from the wall with a sudden start. With your slippers dragging against the concrete, you jogged over, fretfully glimpsing around the half-emptied street.

“When you said you’d drop by for a visit, I thought you were joking.”

With feigned innocence, he swings on the balls of his feet, growing flustered underneath the weight of your disapproving glare. 

He was not nearly as innocent as he pretended. Would an innocent man utilise your soft spot for him to be forgiven? Would he beg and grovel to be accepted as a student with the hopes of it…leading to more? Would an innocent man lay awake at deep night and dream of things that were decidedly not innocent? Would he think of you scolding him with a smile of content?

Without the shadow of a doubt, Hoseok would be glad if you slapped him, as long as you touched him in the end. 

No, an innocent man would not even dare entertain such a sinful idea. You still believed he was innocent and shamefully, horribly, selfishly he used that. 

What a horrible man he was. 

“Eyyy, how could I not visit when my favourite tutor moves apartments?” gently, he shakes you by the shoulder. “Let’s eat cake!”

“But—!”

“Let’s go!”

No, an innocent man would not grasp your hand as an excuse. 

“Not, this again,” you growl in between bites of the swiss roll. There is no furniture and as such you both have to sit on the floor, using bendy plastic forks as utensils. 

“The view is nice. Seodaemun-gu is a better choice, for sure.”

“Mr Jung!”

“Hoseok, please!” 

Nearly in tears from exasperation, you cry out: 

“Hoseok, please.”

The grin from his face disappears entirely as he took in the fraught state of your eyes. Was he…being cruel to you somehow?

“I like you, I really do,” his heart makes an uncomfortable leap and even you seem to catch on to the choice of wording, swallowing nervously as you did. “A-as a student I mean but I still quit as a tutor, there’s no way—”

“Yes, there is,” calmly, he puts the fork down, inhaling a shuddery breath. The air smells of your perfume. He hadn’t yet thought of a way to ask the name for it without coming off as…creepy. “Private tutor. I pay you out of my own wallet. I’ve arranged with management that I’ll take all the official exams but without their oversight.” 

Just me and you. 

“Mr Jung—”

“Hoseok.”

“Hoseok—”

“I’ll pay you 3 million won per month.”

“Still—”

“A million per meeting.”

If feasible, there would be smoke coming out from your nostrils.

“Dear Hoseok,” your lips blossom into a wide smile and he shudders, falling abruptly silent. That smile meant he’s going to get kicked to the moon. 

“Do you want to learn a good English phrase?”

“Of course, I do!"

“BRO, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME SPEAK!”

Even you yourself seemed to be somewhat taken by the outburst. Blushing slightly, you cough, adjusting a strand of unperturbed hair. 

“What I mean is money is not the issue. I already got a job translating documents for a firm nearby but what I mean is…”

Eagerly, Hoseok waits. 

“What you mean is?” he continues, the thrumming of his heart so loud, he fears you’d hear it. 

You gnaw on your lip, gaze flickering wildly all over his face. 

“What I mean is,” you struggle out. “I...I…”

“You…?”

“I don’t think I’m the best tutor for you.” 

Like a bucket of ice cold water, the sentence washes over him and Hoseok suddenly realises how close he’d leaned into you. With an embarrassed cough of his own he regains the proper distance. 

“Nonsense. Isn’t that for me to decide? As your student,” the word sits bitter on his tongue. “I ought to choose what method of teaching is best for me. And you’re the best for me. Am I not the best for you?”

So far from an innocent man. 

Your gaze slowly averts away and the way he relishes its shyness is almost perverse.

“Nah, you’re the best,” quietly, you remark, biting on a piece of swiss roll. 

PJM | Two girls at the front of the club line were enjoying their conversation. Jimin was also enjoying their conversation. 

“There’s that person here tonight. Eun-Chae swears she saw them coming in.”

“The one who made those pretty earrings she had last month? Ahh, I’m so jealous!” 

“Hmm. Rumour is they’re really underground but if you get an invite from someone who's already been their client, they take you on.”

“Oh, really? How did Eun-Chae get it then?”

“Well, I’m not supposed to say this…” the girl with the long hair trailed off and even Jimin trailing behind her to get into the club could hardly control the scoff that threatened to break out of him. Not supposed to say this. Did she not know that once those words were spoken any true gossiper would drink seas of blood to hear such a delicious piece of information. 

“But!”

Ah, so she did have some mercy. 

“But apparently she got an invite from an undisclosed member of Stray Kids.”

As they both squealed, Jimin parted ways with the two women, easily blending into the nightclub. The fact that an underground jeweller was here did not surprise him. This particular club attracted all sorts of creative scenes. He didn’t much care for it, really, that is until he saw you. Hunched over the vomit littered stairs with a pair of pliers in between your hands you were working on what seemed to be an intricate piece of necklace. 

Surreptitiously, Jimin snuck closer, mostly because he’d come alone here tonight. Without friends it was boring as all hell. Watching you work soon proved to be incredibly fascinating. The way that the space between your eyebrows wrinkled, how precisely your eyes focused on each individual detail. How you were able to regain calm and professionalism even amidst the chaos of sweaty bodies and pounding bassline. You cradled these pieces with the same care people did their children…or pets. It truly was a fascinating sight that Jimin could relate to. 

Fast forward some months forth, he now also realises that it’s the sight he’s utterly fallen in love with. 

 “You’re breathing on my neck.”

The grumpiness in your tone rouses him from the memory and Jimin finds himself firmly planted in the present. With his chin perched on the curve of your shoulder, he watches carefully as your lithe fingers string the small pearls one by one. He wonders how would they feel caressing his bare skin. Would they tickle? Would they be warm?

“Am I? My sincere apologies.”

“You lying, little—!”

He flicks the back of your head. 

“Ey, no swearing.”

You glare back at him, the only luminescence in the room being the small desk lamp you used at your workstation. Though Jimin couldn’t be absolutely sure where the border between what he wanted and what was differed but he knew for certain, there was something behind the way your gaze flickered to his lips and remained there for a touch too long. 

He ran a tongue over his lips.

“You want to kiss?"

Your hand reaches upwards, abandoning the pearls and Jimin’s knees grow weak. He has to brace himself harder against the desk but it’s wholly useless as his arms come up by  your sides. He’s caging you in? Nonsense! You’re the cager.

You flick him harshly against the forehead.

“Rich man stops being a perv when crossing the threshold into my home. Rule 12.”

“So many rules…” Jimin sulks, cradling the now sore spot. “You’re such a control freak.”

“So what if I am?” you toss over the shoulder, bringing your attention back to the pearls. It was both of your decision that the layered pearls would be a statement piece for an upcoming photoshoot. That is another thing he loves about you. You never insist upon him wearing chains or dainty pieces, you go for the middle. That same middle that he liked. 

“Masculine, feminine,” he remembers you scoffing harshly one night. “If I make it, it’s just jewelry above all.”

For now he decides to leave you alone. Even if you like him, he knows you wouldn’t hesitate to toss him out by the scruff. That was the third thing he loves about you. Third thousand that is. While you work, he gleefully immerses himself into observing your home. He tidies a book or a blanket here and there, mostly to occupy the time.

Lador shampoo. He spots one in the bathroom. Should he tell you that he saw you use it and now uses it himself just so that his hair would smell like yours and he’d have something to serve as a reminder of you when going away?

No…that’s a bit unhinged. He’d accidentally spilled that piece of information to Yoongi and the man had been a hair strand away from calling the police.

“It’s not that weird,” he pouts to himself. “At least I’m not a stalker.”

Well, he did get your address from that undisclosed member of Stray Kids…

Faint scratching against the window brings his gaze up from the shitty kitchen tiles to the even shittier window and its half broken blinds. 

“Nori!” he greets the tabby cat warmly. “Are you hungry?”

“STOP CANOODLING MY CAT, PARK!” your yell shakes the air before he can even reach for the can of open tuna. “You’re allergic to fur. Get your ass back here!”

He doesn’t dare to not oblidge. 

“Look at you, sitting all pretty,” you purr, clasping the necklace shut.

Smarmily, Jimin runs a hand through his hair. 

“Why thank you.”

For a second, your face scrunches as it does when you’re thinking something deeply but then the creases smoothe out and you toss him a half-hearted glare. 

“Obviously I meant the necklace.”

“Was it that obvious?” 

You reach to flick his forehead once more but this time Jimin catches your hand. Though the sly smirk growing upon his face is wiped with a bold stroke as he feels the numerous cuts marring the skin. 

Sternly, he inspects them, wrapping his fingers tighter around yours as you struggle to pull away. 

“No one did this to you, did they?” his voice drops an octave and unbeknownst to him, your breath catches in the middle of the throat. Park Jimin — forever a mystery, an onion gradually unfolding his many sides.

“Of course, not,” with feigned ease you reply, trying to take your hand back. He does not let it. “It’s just…collateral damage.”

“Your body is not collateral damage.”

“They’re just hands, Jimin.”

“Not even one inch,” he concluded sternly, not a millimeter in his expression or lilt of his voice freeing up the space for a debate to unfold. 

Your fingers are cold, he finds out. But that’s okay, he’ll warm them up for you.

KTH | House, also referred to as "playing house" or "play grown up", is a traditional children's game. It's a form of make believe where players take on the roles of a family. 

Though what is happening now is set in reality, in a way, Taehyung is playing a form of make believe. 

By now it’s been well observed. 15 minutes into a movie and you’re passed out. Not even a night of solid drinking could make a person this unconscious. The make believe in this situation wasn’t scheduling a hang out at his place, it wasn’t the fact that he’d offered to watch a movie while fully knowing of your tendency to fall asleep, it’s not even wrapping his hand around your shoulder and letting his head rest atop of yours. It’s the dreaming that was fake. The endless hope that one of these days he would do something, that you would do something. Every once in a while, he gets the feeling that you might like him. But it’s gone so soon, he inevitably ends up presuming it’s just in his head. 

Wasn’t it?

The blue glow of the screen illuminates your features with an eerie glow and even as someone screams, being chainsawed in half, you don’t move an inch. Now, a boyfriend would lift you up and bring you to the bed, covering your form with a warm blanket and then sliding in. But boyfriends were allowed to do so. That, however, is the fine line where comes the end of his game of house. Some things are simply not allowed. 

Gently, he shakes you awake and blinking blearily, you let a pitiful mumble of confusion.

“Tae?” 

His heart clenches.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t you have to go home?”

In the deluded state that you’re in, you throw both arms around his neck and mumble sleepily into the crook of his neck:

“Don’t wanna. Let me crash here.”

To stab already his bleeding heart, you add:

“Please?”

How could he possibly say no to you?

Falling in love with your friend is technically not a crime but Taehyung thinks that it should be. It’s nothing short of criminal — the level of delusion he entertains whilst adjusting his shirt to sit lower on your body. He should be arrested for the gentleness and care he takes in helping you to measly finish your skincare routine. It is sinful that he has the gall to pretend that this is anything but a series of utterly selfish actions. He gets to play house. He gets to play your boyfriend. He gets to slide underneath the covers with you, laying an arm around your waist and watching you slumber, peaceful and at ease. 

JJK | Jungkook's part has been upgraded to a oneshot! Read it here!

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @silverliningsandstorms;

[reds-fluff-extravaganza]

Phoenix Wright x f!reader first kiss?

Hiii I hope this is okay!! Also sorry i made reader more gender neutral

You and Phoenix have been together for several months now, nearing a year. You tend to help Phoenix when Maya or anyone else is unavailable to help him, and when you don’t have anything else to do with your work, since you like helping him when you can.

You were reading through a file, picking out some papers which you deemed useful or important for the upcoming trial, and setting them down on the table in front of you.

“Thanks for the help, Y/n,” you heard a familiar voice say to you, making you look up from the files you were reading, a faint smile on your face.

“You’re welcome, Phoenix. If I weren’t around, do you think your office would look as tidy as it does now?”

“Who knows?” You both laughed a bit in response, you shaking your head a bit as you closed the folder in your hand.

“You nervous for tomorrow?” You asked, handing him the packet of paperwork that you had gathered for him.

“I always am, but I won’t let them know that.”

“Of course you don’t, and that’s a good thing.” You stood up and made your way over to him, slightly adjusting his tie which was coming loose.

“Besides, I have you to help me with organization.”

“That is true. At least now you’re not all over the place, scrambling around for evidence or anything.”

“Well, I mean I still am, just not as badly now.”

“Fair enough I suppose.”

“We should probably get to sleep soon, it’s getting pretty late,” you pointed out as you looked out the window.

“Yeah, got an early morning tomorrow.”

“True, now come on.” You put the papers you had been sorting away where he would be able to find them the next morning before you two made your way to your shared room, to get some much needed sleep.

It was now the morning of the trial, and you and Phoenix were now walking into the courthouse, him with a stack of papers which you had organized for him, and you were empty handed, as you were just here as support.

“You’ll do great in there, Phoenix, just like always. I’ll see you later.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek before you made your way into the courtroom to find a place to sit. Phoenix watched you leave, a soft smile on his face. He was always so happy to have you by his side, you were always so helpful and supportive of him.

“Right, let’s do this.” He said to no one in particular, making his way over to his client, who had been waiting for him, before the two made their way into the courtroom after a brief moment to discuss a few things before the trial began.

It’s finally over. The trial which has taken him three days, is finally over and he got the not guilty verdict that he had been working for his client. After a brief congratulations, the two went their own way, Phoenix now looking for you.

“Phoenix!” And speaking of you, here you are.

“Hey, there you are.” You smiled as you made your way over to him, pulling him into a hug, which caught him off guard at first, before hugging you back.

“You did great in there! I knew you would.”

“Of course, I always do my best, Y/n.”

“I know that. Now come here, I have something for you,” and before he could even say anything, you leaned closer to him, lightly grabbing onto his tie and pulling him closer to you, and kissed him, which he definitely wasn’t expecting, but wasn’t complaining, as he reciprocated the kiss, holding you close to him. The moment didn’t last long, as you two remembered you were in the middle of a public space, which caused you two to pull away.

“Y/n.”

“Yes, Phoenix?”

“I just realized something.”

“Hmm?”

“That… was our first kiss.”

“…oh shoot you’re absolutely right. I’m… surprised it’s taken this long.”

“You and me both.”

“I guess I just didn’t think much about it?” You both shrugged, laughing a bit in response.

“You know…” you started, placing your hands on your hips, “I wouldn’t mind another,”

“Of course. Let’s wait until we’re in a less public place, alright?”

“Oh fine.” You chuckled a bit and took his hand before the two of you left the courtroom.

[rawrsatthetree]

So I’ve had three play throughs so far where I’ve romanced Astarion. Two were Dark Urge and one was a vanilla Tav.

Since so many people can’t wrap their head around how anyone could possibly help Astarion Ascend so I want to run through my thought process of why my Dark Urge Tav’s did help him.

First I’ll start with Puk, my evil bard dark urge. I think of Puk as a dark urge that Orin should have stabbed harder.

He naturally falls back into who he always was, never resisting his killing urge and love of chaos. He’s a cruel, manipulative, power hungry, monster and he loves it. He’ll take any offer that equals more power, going so far to become half illithid. His evil nature is only encouraged by Minthara and Astarion. Puk knew as soon as he remembered his heritage that he wanted to reclaim his spot as Bhaal’s chosen having already re-earned his slayer form. Puk never thought twice about Astarion Ascending, more power for his little vampire meant more power for him. And if Astarion could make him immortal all the better. He doesn’t care how it will change Astarion, he’s always been a toy for Puk: a key to immortality and fine breeding stock for ascendant dhampire bhaalspawn. Puk doesn’t mind playing the submissive little consort either, at least until he takes control of the brain and makes his vampiric master nothing more than a thrall to sit at his feet while he becomes absolute in Bhaal’s name.

Next my other dark urge Ilona, they were my first play through. I’ll admit they started out as a self insert but I’ve replayed they’re run and fleshed them out to be their own character. Unlike Puk, Orin left Ilona’s head full of scrambled eggs. They barley remember how to be a person and start off with very little personality beyond their urge. As they gain companions and spend time around others slowly the urge is joined by a new person starting to form. As this new personality arises they start to become scared of the urge realizing how they’re companions react to them whenever they let the it take control. Especially after the Alfira incident they start to resist the urge and wanting to be free of it. Of course because they’re an excellent killer and their brain is easily manipulated goo, Astarion picks them as his protector. Ilona is completely defenseless against him easily falling for his honeyed words and attention. However as they grow closer they become completely codependent on each other. As they become more and more afraid of the urge they become more and more dependent on Astarion. He’s their protector just as much as they’re his. This only spirals out of control when they get to Baldurs Gate and learn of their past, they’re terrified. They start to feel hopeless in standing up to Bhaal becoming an unholy assassin and almost ready to except their fate to become their father’s chosen puppet. They’re so wrapped up in their past they’re not sure how they feel about Astarion ascending. It seems like what he wants to do and when he promises he needs that power to protect them both to keep them both safe forever, Ilona believes him. Plus it’s not like they can judge him what’s 7000 souls when they’ve killed countless innocents for less. They just don’t have the strength to deny him and risk loosing the one source of safety and comfort they have. They don’t mind becoming his spawn, between loosing their memory and the urge they don’t trust their own mind, better to let Astarion have it. Even if one day he compels them, it’s for the best if he does the thinking for them anyways. Deep down they know they deserve how he treats them. That and with the. daddy issues deeply rooted in their psyche from both Sarevok and Bhaal part of them loves it. They’re his little consort his beloved pet and he’s their master, their husband, and father. For better or for worse they feel they deserve each other.

My vanilla Tav is an Oath of Devotion Paladin. They were never really onboard with the whole Ascension thing. They love Astarion but they’re worried about what that kind of power will do to him. They do start to falter in act 3 after facing so many horrors they’re beginning to loose faith in their Oath and fearing the worst. Maybe it would be ok, he could use that power for good! To defeat the absolute and save the city, to save themselves. When he says he wants that power so they can be safe forever, for good; they almost make up their mind then and there to help him when the time comes. They steel their resolve to stand by him just like they promised however when they come face to face with his victims tied to the ritual, they break. Looking into Sebastian’s eyes, easily picturing themselves in that cell with him, they promise he will not die trapped in that cage and they mean it. Even if Astarion hates them, they can’t let him go through with the ritual if not to save him than to save those poor souls that fell for Astarion’s charm just as they had. And when Astarion smiles at them and tells them he loves them, they feel their faith and hope return.

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Randomly, I had a thought on how likely it would have been for different characters to have fallen for Cloud and why they would have fallen for him and now I’m here! Once more! So going in no particular order let us begin (this is just the main sort of batch of characters, let me know if you wanna see any of the side ones like the Turks or Rufus)

Also keep in mind this is just me, my opinions and my blog. Don’t like, don’t read, don’t bring your ship hating or ship wars in here or I’ll punch you. Please and thank you!

Zack: I am being mildly biased with my own shipping head canons when I say that he would’ve fallen head over heels upon first meeting, but also it is canon that he was a chronic flirt and had multiple ‘girlfriends’. So I say it’s not entirely out of the question.

Sephiroth: before he lost his mind there wasn’t a chance in fucking hell it would’ve happened I think. Besides the whole difference in rank thing Seph was already far too traumatised and probably would have just seen Cloud as another guy that saw him as nothing but a war hero. He might have entertained the thought of sleeping with him, maybe, but I really don’t think it would’ve happened. We all know how he is after he loses his mind so I don’t think I gotta delve into that.

Angeal: probably not. He definitely would’ve taken some sort of liking to Cloud, whether as a friend he could find good conversation with or a sort of protege like Zack, I dunno. But ultimately I don’t reckon they’d have too much of a connection, not without some form of poly going on or something. Which leads me to this next one.

Genesis: I for sure reckon he would’ve fallen for Cloud. It would’ve been fucking messy and drama filled and more than likely would have stemmed from an enemies to lovers cause they’re both so incredibly stubborn and head strong, but they would end up loving each other. They’d definitely still butt heads and get into useless arguments but there were far too many pros to even think of giving up on the other.

Aerith: without the whole Cloud resembling Zack thing, maybe. There’s a chance that she could have but it would have been slow. Would’ve been one of those things where they hung out and talked and did all this stuff together so often that one day she would’ve turned around and realised she was in love with him. Like a full on ‘oh’ moment.

Tifa: this is another thing that’s mildly biased based off my own head canons but I honestly don’t think Tifa would have fallen for Cloud. If not for the Nibelheim incident and Cloud being exactly what she always wished for as a kid I do not think it would’ve happened.

Barret: definitely fucking not 😂 besides the fact that he hated Cloud when they first met, Cloud is so far beyond his type it’s not even funny. Plus I feel like Barret would either be one of those guys who’s like ‘my wife was the only woman for me’ or he just wouldn’t wanna put Marlene through the stress of suddenly gaining another parent.

Biggs: maybe. Like a heavy ass possibly honestly. I feel like it would have been the most generic romance in history and it would’ve been so unbelievably normal and it most likely would have been short lived, but maybe.

Wedge: I’m not gonna lie. Wedge gives me aromantic vibes for some reason. I dunno why, he just does. He’d definitely befriend Cloud (eventually) and be willing to wingman him or something if he needed it but yeah, I don’t think Wedge would’ve fallen for him.

Jessie: she absolutely loves flirting with Cloud and teasing him and being all over him, but she is definitely a lesbian. Don’t even argue with me! That woman is a full fledged lesbian and she only flirts with guys so heavily cause it’s funny to watch them scramble.

Vincent: nah, not really. Would they have a friends with benefits thing? Probably. But I feel like Vincent is far too emotionally unavailable and traumatised to even entertain the idea of being with someone again.

Cid: I feel like this is similar to Angeal. He’d definitely like Cloud and they’d bond over mechanic shit and complain about the people they chose to surround themselves with, but he definitely wouldn’t fall for him either. Cloud is way too young for him and not nearly his type in a guy. Plus he has a wife.

[cerebralinvasion]

yandere february event day 12

“I don’t mind being a monster as long as I’m your monster.”

the first thing that hit you was the smell. a sharp metallic scent overtaking your senses before you even opened the door to the room. your face scrunched up. your nostrils burned from just how strong the smell was.

the second thing that hit you was the visual, the blood smeared all around the room, limp bodies pervaded with puncture wounds and slashes. it was a mess, and standing in the middle of all of it was akutagawa. the bodies had to have been fresh. probably killed less than thirty seconds before you entered the room. the blood was still wet, and akutagawa was still facing them.

it probably would have been in your best interest to leave quietly. turn around and report it to the police, but your instincts acted before your mind did. you stumbled back from the doorway with a yelp. naturally, akutagawa heard you. he snapped his head in your direction before grimacing. he seemed annoyed. shit.

you didn’t know akutagawa well. not as well as he knew you, at least. you’ve only seen him a couple of times in passing. you don’t know what his reaction or lack of response means. you don’t know how he managed to kill all those people so quickly and without getting blood on himself. all you knew at the moment was that he was dangerous and that he knew you saw him murder those people. you scrambled away as quickly as you could, throwing yourself in the opposite direction, only to fall. something had grabbed your leg. some kind of black tendril attached to his coat, you couldn’t get away. was he going to kill you now? you whimpered, you didn’t want to die.

“you’re so meddlesome, did you know that? if you could just mind your own business this wouldn’t be an issue.” akutagawa’s words probably weren’t all that wrong. if only you hadn’t been so curious, you never would’ve investigated the room in the first place.

“i- i’m sorry, i won’t tell anyone! please don’t hurt me.” you spoke quickly, you had no idea how much time you had before he made the decision to simply end you. but your words only seemed to make him more annoyed.

“if i wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already.”

“ah, i, huh? so you’re gonna let me go?” you let a shaky smile take over your face, a glimmer of hope gracing you.

“absolutely not.” what little hope you held died. “it’s too late for that. if i let you run off now, you’ll only cause me more issues.”

“so, what’re you going to do?” you spoke, genuine confusion lilting your voice. he didn’t intend to kill you but he also wasn’t going to let you leave? what happens next?

“i suppose i’ll have to take you.”

“take me?” before you could get further into your question, the tentacle on your leg suddenly unraveled. you thought you were freed for a quick moment, only for it to reward itself around your torso, lifting you into the air. “ah-!?”

“i cant have you running off, but i’m not too keen on exterminating you right now. so i’ll keep you around.”

“ack!? what no! lemmie go!”

“would you rather end up like this guys?” he motions his head in the direction of the dead bodies. was that a threat? suddenly all the quiet fear you held replaced itself with an angry panic. the begging had done nothing and now your words began to spill before you could think.

“you fucking killed all those people, and now you’re trying to abduct me! let me go, you’re insane. you’re a monste-mmmf!!” your words were cut short by the tendril wrapping over your mouth, muffling you.

“monster? yes, i’ve heard that before. perhaps it’s true, i might be a monster, but you’re mine. and that’s what matters.”

[sighonaraa]

🌹🌹🌹🌹 Can we have a little Jamie gets hugged six ways snippet? Pretty please? as a little treat?

ABSOLUTELY YOU MAY!!!!! i love this fic and i will NEVER shut up about it. here you go!!

“I won’t,” says Roy, which—isn’t what Jamie’d expected. “I won’t touch you, Jamie. Promise.” And there’s a solid surety to Roy’s voice, a grounded calm that hooks into the naked, vulnerable ache of Jamie’s chest and keeps him from running off the way he so terribly wants to. He allows a breath to escape his mouth. “O-okay,” he stammers; curls his fingers into the sleeves of his shirt. “Thanks. I—thanks. Thank you.” “You don’t need to—” But whatever it is Jamie doesn’t need to do, he never finds out, ’cause Roy cuts himself off before he gets to it and changes tact. “Do you…want to come back to my house with me? I can make you breakfast.” No. It’s right there, on the precipice of Jamie’s tongue, and he can’t speak it into being. Wants to, but can’t. All he can think about is the empty, hollow coffin of his own gaff, the way it all feels foreign to him, as though he’s become a stranger in a strange land except the strange land is his house and the stranger is his reflection. And more than he wants to say no to Roy, he doesn’t want to return to that place. So, “Sure,” is what spills out, fractured and hopeful in the cold dawn light. “Sure, yeah. I’ll—yeah. Please.” And Roy nods, seeming relieved, seeming unsurprised, and waits for Jamie to venture closer to him before turning towards the brightening horizon and the path that’ll lead them home. ** He’s never been to Roy’s house before, is something Jamie only realizes once he’s there, curled into the arm of the nice, deep couch in the living room, listening as oil crackles on the stove and the smell of diced bell peppers fills the air. He should be embarrassed, he thinks absently, to be sitting around on his arse while Roy makes him breakfast like he’s a child. Except shame is a distant thing, now. Beyond his reach. Scrambling around out there on the road, all hands and knees and panting breaths, a hunted animal biting desperately at any hand that comes near, has scraped him to the absolute bottom of his emotional barrel. He can’t stretch his mind around anything more than exhaustion. And hunger. He’s so fucking hungry. He expects Roy to call him to the kitchen once it’s time to eat, but instead Roy ends up bringing two plates heaped with cheesy omelets and fried potatoes into the living room, sets them both on the coffee table and then adds a mug to the display, topped high with whipped cream. “Hot chocolate,” he tells Jamie, which is good, ’cause if Roy Kent put whipped cream on his coffees then Jamie would just maybe have to re-think twenty years of hero worship. Then he points at the fork and says, “Fork.” “No shit?” Jamie asks, feigning shock, and almost slams his body back into the couch cushions, horrified. What the fuck. What the fuck. He can’t—he can’t—he can’t do that, can’t go around making fun of Roy when Roy’s wasted all this time bringing him home and cooking him breakfast and taking care of him even though Jamie deserves none of it, when Roy’s— Laughing. Quietly, shoulders shaking. Jamie stares at him, convinced there’s something deeper to it, that the laughter will crack open to reveal the cold, ugly innards, but it doesn’t. It slowly fades into a warm silence, and then Roy says, “Yeah, guess that was fucking stupid of me. Go on, you muppet, eat before it gets cold.”

[deus-and-the-machina]

MCYT Yuri week - day 6, sleep/party

for @mcyt-yuri-week this sure is a sleep party! sleepover? it sure is a party. It's also on ao3. enjoy!

When Pearl had invited Cleo over to the…‘Boatem Sleepover’, somehow she didn’t expect this. 

The five looney neighbors plus Cub were all in a circle folded forward on the ground and muttering some weird chants. Cleo began to back away, starting to understand what the vibe here was. Unfortunately for her, Pearl had a sixth sense and popped up just as she turned away. “Cleo! Come join us!”

She really, really shouldn’t, especially given the look of manic exhaustion in Pearl’s eyes, but part of her was also a slave to the whims of society conventions. She’d been invited! Even if it was some weird cult, backing out now would be a tad awkward. So they gave Pearl a strained smile. “I’m here? Hi! Now uh, what is this…?”

“Oh we’re staying awake so the moon doesn’t come down on all of us.” Cleo screamed internally.

“Cool! And you want me to…?”

Pearl giggled. “Isn’t it obvious? Stay awake with us! Enjoy the moon in all her beauty so she doesn’t feel left out anymore. Apparently we skip over her too much. Gotta give even the night time some loving, ya know.”

Cleo glanced over at the chanting Boatem members, then back to Pearl. “I suppose I can stay awake? But don’t expect me to start doing weird chanting or anything.”

With a squeal, Pearl hugged their arm. “Oh thank you Cleo, you won’t regret it!”

I already am! 

Pearl led her over to the others, babbling something or other about an introduction and slumber parties. The others lifted their heads to greet her.

“Hi Cleo!

“Hi Cleo.”

“Heya.”

“Mmgn, hey Cleo.” That was Mumbo, who looked close to passing out already. Honestly all of them looked absolutely exhausted. No wonder they were all being freaky! 

Pearl led her to a spot on the grass where the two sat down, the other woman sprawling out immediately on her back. She gazed up at the stars. “Honestly, it’s kinda fun once you get used to it. We’re having a slumber party!”

Gingerly, Cleo settled down next to her. “Mmkay, if you say so. I’m only here for you, just letting you know.

“Oh I know. That’s why I asked!” The tricky star girl threw her arms around Cleo’s waist, tucking herself into their backside. They rolled their eyes, but a slight grin tugged at their mouth. She patted Pearl’s head lighty, and began gearing herself up for a long night.

Two hours in, and the shrieking started. “Oh god, are those phantoms?” Cleo groaned, pushing herself up. The other ‘mooners’, as they called themself, jumped up and began to scramble, yelling illegibly. 

Having calmly gotten to her feet, Pearl surveyed the area with a gleam in her eye. “Yeah! This is the fun bit!”

“Pearl, I don’t think anyone in their right minds would call being dive bombed by phantoms ‘fun’.”

She threw back her head and cackled. “I’ve been awake for three days, Cleo! I’m running on nothing but adrenaline. This is the most fun I think I’ll ever get in my entire life!” Reaching out into the air, a netherite sword manifested in a flash of violet. She began slashing at the air wildly, running in circles. Just when Cleo had thought she’d witnessed the pinnacle of madness…

They caught a glimpse of the first phantom swooping towards them. “Pearl, watch out–” But her warning was evidently unneeded, as Pearl snapped around and leaped into the air, thrusting her sword up and skewering it through the stomach. 

Nervous frantic laughter erupted from who Cleo was pretty sure was Scar. The other Mooners had nothing in the way of organization, running around like headless chickens. To be fair, so was Pearl. She just had a sword about it. Resigning herself to the madness, Cleo sat back down and watched Pearl do her thing.

Dozens of dead phantoms later, some of which Grian and Cub have even managed to kill, the coast seemed to be clear. Pearl strutted back towards Cleo, huffing and puffing with effort. 

They were both taken aback by another screech as Pearl lunged forward to land right in front of Cleo, the sound of her sword skewering flesh echoing in Cleo’s ears. Looking up, the phantom was far too close to Cleo’s head for comfort. “Y’know what, this has been fun, but I think I’m going to leave now.”

Pearl yelped and staggered back so that she wasn’t nearly stepping on Cleo. “Wait! We’ve still gotta–” When a wave of exhaustion hit her. She stumbled and began to fall forward. Panic flared in Cleo’s chest as they rushed to catch her. The sword clattered to the ground.

Cleo maneuvered Pearl so that she was tucked in their arms bridal style. She was still awake, though not by much. While she mumbled to herself, Cleo placed a hand on her forehead. “Just sleep. I’ll take you to your base.”

With that slight bit of reassurance, Pearl promptly passed out. “And you,” they turned to the Mooners. “Please try to sleep too. No one likes phantoms or cults, thank you very much.” With a groan, Mumbo planted face first on the ground. Soon after, a faint snoring sound was coming from him. 

With a sigh, Cleo turned around and began marching towards Pearl’s boat. Someone who’d been ripping through phantoms one moment ago was now laid vulnerable and defenseless in their arms, head curled into their chest. Cleo felt their heart swell and kissed her on the forehead. 

“Sleep well, Pearl. We’ll all still be here when you awake. Hopefully with less phantoms.”

[minastras]

prev • masterlist • next

04 i'll make them pay

words: 0.7k

Jay figured it was fair enough punishment for destroying your car to have to see you on the train almost every day from then on.

It’d been a full week and he still hadn’t talked to you. You’d long given up on trying to say hello to him — because, as Jake and Yunjin very sagely pointed out, Jay was acting like a dick — but you two always ended up sitting in the same carriage. He should’ve just been normal that first day.

You were a very distracting individual, too attractive to look at and too attractive to not look at. Jay’s mind was filled with you, so when you dropped your phone he picked it up without hesitation. He winced and tried to plaster on a friendly smile as he handed it back to you, but it probably came off more like a grimace than anything else.

“Thanks,” you said warily, taking your phone back. “We’re neighbours, right? I’m Y/N.”

“Uh- yeah, hi! Hello,” he laughed, even though you hadn’t said anything funny. His hand came up in a wave, the movement jerky and uncoordinated. “I’m- I’m Jay.”

“I didn’t know you were a UDec student,” you said. Your gaze was still sceptical, wondering why this man who’d been aggressively refusing to acknowledge your existence was now willing to talk to you.

“Me neither! I mean- I didn’t know you were a UDec student, not I didn’t know I was a UDec student-” What was wrong with him? He cleared his throat and tried again, slower this time. “Yeah, I’m doing a PhD in global health.”

At that, your face lit up, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I’m a PhD candidate too! I’m doing international law,” you replied excitedly.

Jay once read somewhere that all mammals on average had around a billion heartbeats in a lifetime, and he was convinced this conversation alone had used up half of his allotment. It got even worse when you stood up and crossed the carriage to take the empty seat next to him.

“It’s so nice to meet another PhD student,” you mused, unbothered and somehow unaware of the fact that he was losing his mind.

“Yeah, it can be so isolating sometimes,” he agreed, nodding along. He’d agree with anything you said. “My roommates don’t really get it.”

“What do your roommates do?” you asked.

“Jake’s a data analyst, and Yunjin’s a model. She does music on YouTube too,” he replied. Why was he telling you their names?

“Oh, she’s a model! That makes so much sense. She’s so pretty,” you exclaimed. “My roommates and I all agreed that she’s the prettiest girl we’ve ever seen.”

Great. He’d finally gotten to talk to you, and all you wanted to do was fawn over his roommate.

“Hey- um- speaking of that, is there anyone in the picture for you at the moment?” Jay blurted out all in one breath. Curse him and his nervous talker tendencies. Although you seemed not to notice his bumbling attempt at flirting.

“Me? No, I’m done with dating. I don’t think I can take another first date,” you answered. “My friend tried to set me up with her colleague last week and I’m still dealing with the fallout of that mess.”

You also seemed not to notice Jay deflate with each new word that came out of your mouth, changing the subject with a controlled ease that gave him very little time to react.

“What’s your Twitter handle? I’ll give you a follow! And if you want we can exchange numbers, since I’ll be taking the train to campus from now on,” you offered, handing him your phone.

He clumsily searched for his Twitter profile on your account and clicked the ‘Follow’ button, only then realising how sweaty his palms were. His number. You wanted his number.

“How come I’ve never seen you on the train?” he asked, scrambling to continue the conversation before immediately regretting his words.

“Oh, some absolute dickhead wrecked my car last week,” you said with a sigh, taking your phone back from his outstretched hand. “It’s alright, though. I’m hunting the bastard down and I’ll make them pay.”

[voolfman]

Bring Out the Dead Man

Sctir fanfic multi-chapter fic posted on ao3 by voolfman

Chapter 4

Anxiously, Yoojin drummed his fingers in a tight and fast tattoo against the top of his knee as he waited for the eternity to end and for the doctor to come back so that Yoojin could check up on that Myeongwoo and make sure someone else had not in fact bled out in front of him and well on him in the span of less than a week-

“Mr. Han,” and wow, Yoojin had not even noticed the doctor entering the room. Maybe he had used more mana than he had intended. “You have a clean bill of health,” the aging doctor monotoned, fixing his rimless bifocals, “There’s no no need to make another appointment unless something else comes up. Thank you and have a pleasant rest of your day.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Yoojin called to the quickly retreating man, grabbing his crutches and meeting Sunghan right outside the doorway. “Shall we go check on our fallen rockstar?”

Sunghan quirked his eyebrow up at Yoojin. “He’s two floors up in room 649. He’d lost a lot of blood and was pretty dehydrated, but they expect him to make a full recovery.” He pressed the elevator button and Yoojin let out a pent up breath as they were lifted to the injured man’s floor.

As they stopped in front of Myeongwoo’s door, Yoojin hesitated as he internally debated the wisdom of what he was about to do, but he clenched his fist, his nails threatening to bite into his skin, and knocked on the door.

For what felt like five years, but could have only been five seconds, Yoojin’s stomach roiled anxiously before a thin, reedy voice called out, “Come in.”

Yoojin gently slid the door open, “Hello! Glad to hear you’re going to be on the mend…Myeongwoo?”

The hunter, who was now sitting up somewhat in the bed in the brightly lit hospital room, raised his eyebrows almost up to his hairline as his fingers gripped the sheet. “Yes? Do I know you?”

“Ah, personally? I doubt it,” Yoojin chuckled quietly and somewhat derisively, “But I did happen to catch you before you tried to kiss the pavement?”

Myeongwoo’s eyes grew to the size of saucers, and, when not hidden by the stringy carpet of hair, Yoojin thought that he had nice eyes. Kind eyes. “You..helped me?”

“Well-” Yoojin scratched the back of his neck, trying to hide the slight redness that was creeping up it - “Mr. Kim here did most of the heavy lifting, really, I just became a cushion…”

“Thank you!”

“Whoa! You don’t need to bow-”

“Thank you-”sniff- “really!”

Panicking slightly, Yoojin scrambled up to the crying man’s bedside, “Hey! Uhh hey-hey, it! It’s okay! Don’t cry! You’ll open your stitches! I’ll uhh I’ll be back tomorrow…”

That got the watery mess to calm down. Wiping his tears and blowing his nose into the handkerchiefs Yoojin was handing him, he finally choked out a response. “Really?”

Internally heaving a massive sigh of relief at the fact that Myeongwoo was no longer sobbing his eyes out over an act of general, human decency, Yoojin grabbed his crutches and ruffled the man’s hair before it occurred to him that Myeongwoo was probably the same age as him (old habits die hard) and did his best to act casual despite his faux pas. “Yeah, really. Rest up, eat well, and we can talk tomorrow. It was nice to meet you, Myeongwoo.”

A starstruck gaze stared up at Yoojin similar to the likes of a kid doing his best to stay up in the hopes of meeting Santa Claus. “It was nice to meet you, too…?”

“Yoojin,” dripped hesitantly off of his tongue.

“...Yoojin,” Myeongwoo mumbled as his eyes drooped and he fell asleep.

Turning to Sunghan, Yoojin put his finger to his lips in a shushing motion and silently hustled the two of them out to the hallway.

“Phew,” Yoojin leaned against the wall, “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind if we come back tomorrow? I mean, I’m sure he’ll be alright, but…”

In the silence that followed, Yoojin was sure that Sunghan was thinking of a way to bring down the hammer of Yoohyun’s absolute rule. Honestly, if this kept up, Yoojin loved the kid, but there really was a limit - "I… would like to apologize.” It was a low rumble, a quiet admission, a gut punch that stole the breath from Yoojin as his weight was kept hold by the wall and his crutches. “I may have misjudged you.”

"...nah, I acted outta line at some points.” Wild how your whole perspective can do a 180° once you find out that your only remaining family member didn't immediately abandon you as soon as they possibly could. "Thanks for looking out for Yoohyun, though. He's always been a quiet kid, so appreciate your taking care of him."

An ever so slight smirk snuck onto Sunghan’s face as the two started to pick their way back to the car, “I only picked up where you left off. I can see where the Guildmaster picked up some of his more… unique quirks.”

“Yoohyun was a perfect child! What are you inferring?” Yoojin smashed the elevator button grumpily. Yoohyun was just a little emotionally stunted, that was all.

Instead of answering, Sunghan only chuckled and stated that Yoohyun was a very good Guildmaser and that he was incredibly lucky to be a part of the Hayeon Guild. Which was an obvious sentiment because of course Yoohyun was running Hayeon well, he was Yoojin’s perfect little brother who was standing in the kitchen cooking when they arrived back at the apartment.

“Why’re you here?” Yoojin gasped and raced across the apartment as fast as his crutches could carry him. The kid had at least five more days until he was supposed to have finished the dungeon.

Yoohyun turned away from whatever he was frying in the pan to speak to his brother.“I live here-” the spatula dropped from his hand and splattered sauce all around the stovetop. “Hyung! You’re covered in blood! Mr. Kim-!”

“It’s fine. It’s not mine.” Yoojin brushed away his concerns to pull Yoohyun close and examine him, pulling back his sweater’s sleeves and reaching up to tilt his brother’s face this way and that. “Not the point. Did you rest at all in that dungeon? It looks like you’ve got quite a pair of eyebags-” Yoojin bit his bottom lip, “You should’ve been in there for at least a week longer!”

“It wasn’t a difficult dungeon.” Yoohyun squinted in mild annoyance at Yoojin brushing off his own concern only to absolutely baby Yoohyun. Hypocrite.

“It wasn’t- It was S- rank!”

“An easy S-rank.” Yoojin called bullshit on that lame excuse.

“...an easy-!” No, Yoojin was going to step back. Yoohyun was 25 now. He was 25 and alive and Yoojin was still going to worry, wasn’t he? “ Anyway, while you are resting up, Yoohyun-” and you are going to rest was unspoken “- I’m gonna have to head out tomorrow.”

“No.” And that’s final, was left unspoken for him.

“Yoohyun,” Yoojin shook his head, it wasn’t like he was requesting to go into a dungeon, “I’m going to visit a friend I saw in the hospital.”

The disbelief was abhorrently evident on Yoohyun’s generally impassive face. “You … have a friend in the hospital?”

The silence following the question could have been compared to the vast, unknowable solitude of of the universe, only broken by the gentle and playful sizzle made by the oil in the pan. “You know what? That’s so rude. I have friends.”

“...” Yoohyun seemed to think that silence was the better part of valor in this scenario and pushed around the pork belly so as not to let it burn.

Refusing to back down, Yoojin turned to the man who had been accompanying him all day and to all of his past trips to the hospital for the past couple of weeks. “Mr. Kim, back me up.”

Sunghan, however, would never lie to his Guildmaster. “You met today.”

“And I saved his life, hence the blood,” Yoojin gestured to his ruined clothes, “ his blood. We’re friends.”

Yoohyun shot his Second in Command a concerned look before turning all of his worry towards his brother.“Hyung…”

“Mr. Kim will be with me, and Myeongwoo’s an F- rank, so it’s fine.”

“Fine.” Yoohyun could tell that Yoojin would not back down with this. He’d let him go, just this once, though. “Just be careful and be back before dark.”

Oh, how the tables turned, or at least that’s what Yoohyun thought. Really, was he that naive? Yoojin was 30. He was an adult. “Are you giving me, your older brother who raised you, a curfew?”

“I made lunch, Hyung-” the adorable little bastard had plated the food and it looked divine, holding it out to Yoojin.

“Your attempt at changing the subject is successful for the sole reason that I don’t want to fight, but I am going to the hospital tomorrow. You have work to do anyway. And for pity’s sake, make sure those under your care are alright after going through an S-rank dungeon at such a reckless speed.”

[redfurrycat]

💕Know Your Tumblr Friends💕

Tagged by @callsign-crow, @itshoneywhatever, @mafiatsunafish, @merryandrewsworld, @perishablealex, @renai-chan in different versions of the tag game, so I just took all the questions and answered them all in one post, if ya don't mind, you lovely souls! 💕

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Name? Starts with a P. It's a pretty common name where I’m from. (But you can call me Red here 😉)

Were you named after anyone? Nope.

Pronouns? She/her.

Where do you call home? Belgium.

Sign? Aries.

Time? 11h49 (I’m HUNGRY.) (Update. I ate and it was fries and homemade burger).

Fav band/artist? Hans Zimmer (composer). But I love many other composers! I don’t exactly have a fav band or artist as it’s not the kind of music I listen to (OST-Forever-Girl).

Do you have kids? No. I don’t want kids right now, I’ll wonder about that muuuuuch later. (Although I’m a cat mom at the moment.)

Use sarcasm a lot? I do sarcastic quips all the time… xD

First thing you notice 'bout people? Their smile. :)

Eye color? Hazel Eyes.

Scary movies or happy ending? Happy Ending FOREVER.

Special talent? *blank* (Too hungry to think of one... xD)

Your hobbies? To talk about something NOT related to fandom, I like Sudoku and Word scrambled games.

Any pets? It may be shocking to all of you, but I have a she-cat. A red she-cat. *grinning*

First pet? Twas a hamster….:D

Favorite animal? I love felines and birds of prey VERY MUCH.

Cereal of choice? As a kiddo it was Miel Pops, now I do the healthier version of honey cereals when I do eat cereals. And I occasionally eat oatmeal as well.

Are you visual, auditory, or kinesthetic learner? All three of them, depends on what is it I’m learning.

Playing any sport? Used to be tennis. Now I do walking and running, and I’d love to swim again!!!

How tall..? Small bean of 1m58.

Favourite subject in school? Latin in secondary school, and my American and British Literature at Uni, as well as all my Law and Judiciary classes. Instructive, especially because I now understand the related news.

Dream job? I don’t even know anymore… I’m completely lost. ☹

Favorite scent? honey and lavender, and strawberry.

Do you believe in astrology? Absolutely not. "Not in any god, not in myths and legends." (Although it’s pretty cool to read about myths and legends! :D *mythology nerd*)

How many playlists do you have on spotify/apple music? 0 because I refuse to use spotify or apple music. :D

Sharpies or highlighters? Both are good!

Song that makes you cry? Songs don’t usually make me cry. However, OSTs do. I’m HIGHLY sensitive to Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron/The Last Samurai/LOTR OSTs.

Last song? Dela by Johnny Clegg (That’s right baby, GEORGE OF THE JUNGLE SONG! :D)

Last series? still ER! (I mean there are 15 seasons or so, and I’m watching season 5)

Last movie? I was in the middle of ‘While you were sleeping’ but couldn’t finish due to stellar internet connection. :(

Song that makes you happy? Ain’t Worried by OneRepublic, Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins, and the Rickrolling Song! xD

Do you write/draw/create? Don’t EVER ask me to draw. I’ve started to write, which I’m still surprised about, I guess you could say I create some Top Gun content as well? Like silly posts about my fav pilots! :D

Currently working on? My Cheerleading Top Gun Sideblog. I’m still in the building process but it’s been fun so far! I discovered or rediscovered REALLY amazing content!!! :O <3 Writing-related? Dr. Goose Bradshaw Series. YUP. THAT’S RIGHT. 😉

When did I create this blog? Dunno…2013/14?

What I post? I reblog A LOT. And I LOVE adding to posts when inspiration strikes! xD Right now? I’ve posted several Top Gun  Recs Lists. (Top Gun and Top Gun Maverick have bewitched me body and soul!)

Other blogs? The Sideblog I was previously talking about can be found at @timetobuzzthefandomtower.

Do I get asks? Very occasionally 😊 (Though I don’t check it very often, so very sorry to anyone who might have sent something, I promise I’ll get back to you!!! <3)

Followers? 246?! (Holy Shit. When did that happen??????? I’ve never checked before! :O)

Average hours of sleep? 8 hours is the best for me, but I sleep less than that I’m sure.

Instruments? Fuck that. I hated the music class during HS. :O 

What I'm wearing rn? Short & T-Shirt. All comfy clothes.

Dream trip? New Zealand. Seems very far away, almost unachievable! xD And, the Vikings Lands. I. WANT. TO. GO. THERE. <3

Favourite song at the moment? Fake ID from Footloose :D

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NO PRESSURE TAGS!!!

@auprintempss, @bradleybonkbradshaw, @captainclaudeandthehiddenlogs, @hardballoonlove, @missathlete31, @nanny-sc, @scottishaccentsareawesome, @skiddit, @the-ace-with-spades.

I know there are A LOT of questions, feel the heck free to choose which ones you want to answer, IF you want to of course! Have the sweetest of days! <3