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#dude it was 2006 get over it!
susansontag · 1 year
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have I ever talked about my brother being a drummer in a signed band when he was a teenager. they had a ‘hit single’ and everything. the lyrics are actually so fun still a bop!
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feline-evil · 4 months
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Getting into anything new also means getting to do a fun little treasurehunt afterwards to find the people drawing gay trans art of the new thing Saluting our bravest soldiers (the people making queer art of my often kind of dudebro-y interests)
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iron-sides · 4 months
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if you get legitimately upset about famous people you dont like who were homophobic as teenagers not being homophobic anymore i really do not know what to tell you. its not that fucking deep man.
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memorys-skyscraper · 1 month
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yknow going through the whole yakuza/LAD series as quickly as i did made it really interesting to see how the series as a whole and some characters in specific evolved over time in response to changing audience interests, specifically a growing desire for pathos in their video games
if you'd told someone who'd just played 1 & 2 on the ps2 back in 2006 that by 2024, several of the most recent entries in the series would end with the protagonist having an absolute sobbing meltdown and/or begging the main antagonist to give up in lieu of just punching them into complete submission, there's a 0% chance they would've believed you
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kbspangler · 2 months
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This is the public statement from @alepresser and myself which went up at Webtoons tonight.
Now for some ranting. Just from me, not from Ale—she's innocent of the art crimes I've committed in the past, and boy howdy have I committed art crimes.
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This is the first page of my first webcomic, A Girl and Her Fed. I started this thing back in 2006. (I don't actually need a head count of those reading this who weren't yet born in 2006. I'm sure you're delightful and I wish you well in college.)
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And this is the last page I drew in early 2020 before I turned art duties over to Dr. Beer. It's better, right?
Well, these days, A Girl and Her Fed has pages like this:
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I drew this comic for fourteen fucking years because it's a story I wanted to tell, and I thought webcomics were the perfect format for it. I didn't know how to draw. I got better through sheer obstinate perseverance and sticking to deadlines as best I could for, again, fourteen fucking years. I sought out a replacement artist when I ran into time constraints and couldn't do art plus writing anymore; I'm a much better writer than an artist, so I had no problems whatsoever kicking art to the curb.
The first time Ale sent me art that would go up on the website—art I hadn't needed to draw myself—I literally cried in relief because I had been grinding myself down for, yet again, fourteen fucking years.
So when I read comments from people who say they want to make a webcomic but can't draw themselves and therefore need to resort to AI, that little line between my eyes gets dangerously deep.
This isn't like I'm some old dude who's bitching over student loans getting cancelled after making regular payments. This is me, someone who threw raw art onto the internet like a monkey hurling fresh poo, because I wanted to make a webcomic and the art is part of the process of storytelling via webcomics! I could've (arguably should've) hired an artist right out of the gate, and that would've been part of the process of making comics, too: a partnership between an artist and a writer is also something which grows and develops over time.
For example, after Dr. Beer and I spent two years working on AGAHF, we decided we enjoyed our partnership so much that we set out to make another webcomic! It's great! It's got wonderful art and consistent storytelling! You should read it!
But turning art duties over to unaltered images generated by AI because you want to make a webcomic but "just can't draw" is, frankly, a bullshit excuse. I'm not talking about persons who are physically unable to draw due to disability—I'm talking about people who say they want to make webcomics but simply don't wanna do the art part.
Friends, if you don't want to show your entire ass in front of God and country, you don't actually want to make a webcomic.
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Do the thing yourself.
If you're scared, don't be. Take the plunge. Set a goal of twenty strips and do the thing yourself. If you can already draw but can't write? Great! Write twenty strips, write forty panels, etc. You might surprise yourself. If you can write but can't draw? Great! Draw twenty panels and see what happens.
Whatever comes out of it, it's a thing you've done yourself. It's something new you've given to the world, no matter how big or small. Be proud of that. And if you need to partner with someone else to make your comic dreams work? You can do that, too! It's still a thing you've done yourself, and many projects are stronger when done together.
...but maaaaaaaaaybe hire that partner before you've busted your own ass for fourteen fucking years. That one's on me.
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age-of-moonknight · 2 years
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“Midnight Sun (Part II): The Dead Don’t Stay,” Moon Knight (Vol. 5/2006), #8.
Writer: Charlie Huston; Penciler: David Finch; Inkers: Danny Miki and Crimelab Studios; Colorist: Frank D’Armata; Letterer: Joe Caramagna
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palajae · 7 months
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hypegirl! | final.
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PAIRING ▸ soccer player! niki x afab! reader
GENRE ▸ soccerl! au, roommates!au, she's the man! au, romance, fluff, angst, humor
WORD COUNT ▸ 4k
SUMMARY ▸ all you want is to join the boys’ soccer team. all niki wants is to get minji’s attention. as roommates, what better than to strike a deal and help each other out? nothing really, except for one glaring issue: your blossoming feelings for said roommate. oh, and the fact that you’re technically supposed to be your brother, kim sunoo. 
AKA a hopefully more sfw version of she's the man? 
NOTES ▸ based off she’s the man (2006), reader is sunoo's sister and pretends to be her brother sunoo, gender swap, like one curse word, kissing,— please let me know if there’s any typos!
masterlist. | previous.
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I DON’T WANNA FIGHT YOUR SHADOW…
“what? you want to do what?”
niki doesn’t say anything as his head hangs low. he stares at the ground, dark eyebags prominent. 
“niki,” jungwon sighs in exasperation, “let’s think rationally about this. we’ve been working toward this day for weeks. this is it. we can’t make any last minute changes now.” 
“right,” jay chimes in. 
“sunoo’s become a valuable player on the team. we need him. seriously, what could have possibly happened that you suddenly want to kick him off the day of playoffs?” 
niki only shakes his head as the rest of the team exchanges looks. 
“sorry man, but we keep personal business off the field. sunoo’s in, whether you like it or not.” 
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sunoo’s worried—to say the least. between you not replying to any of his texts and the current dilemma at hand, he isn’t sure what to do. 
all he can do is clench his trusty flute as his band arrives at your camp. 
it’s hectic, with kids and directors running around attempting to prepare the performance for the game. essentially a perfect chance for sunoo to sneak and snoop around. 
sunoo manages to spot the boys locker room, and he takes his chance. 
the minute he steps in, he’s greeted by the smell of deodorant, grass, and… the mustiness of sport locker rooms. 
guys are everywhere, clothes and gear strewn all over the place as they prepare for the tournament. 
he glances around for any sight of you, not exactly sure what to look for but still keeping an eye out for a smaller figure. sunoo takes about three steps forward, until he yelps. 
he feels an arm roughly pulling him toward the side, and he whips his head around. 
“sunoo-dude, where were you? we were starting to think you weren’t gonna show up! get changed, the first match is gonna start soon.” 
his heart drops. no way, did they think he was-
a jersey is flung at his face. somehow, in the midst of the chaos, face paint is slathered onto his face, effectively concealing his identity even more. 
where were you? 
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first match, first half—to everyone’s shock—enhypen’s down. 
most yells are directed at, who’d you least expect, kim sunoo. 
“kim! what are you doing?” 
“pass! no-here! to me! ”
“why are you so slow today?!”
all sunoo can do is apologize while wheezing. he wasn’t built for this. it’s not like he had much of a choice, he was shoved onto the field. 
at one point, jungwon’s eyes flash at him and he visibly shrinks.
“dude, i don’t know what’s going on, but we’re subbing you out.” 
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you jump up to the sound of cheers, an announcer yelling—
“and enhypen takes home their first win with a great comeback in the second half!”
enhypen? win? comeback?
you scramble to your feet, heart racing. 
crap. what time was it?
you pat your pockets to no avail. 
that’s right—your phone was left in your dorm…that you couldn’t access because niki kicked you out. 
more cheers from outside bring you back to your current situation. you overslept since you didn’t have your phone alarm. 
the tournament started. enhypen played and won their first match, without you. 
you frown, scrambling to get to the stadium. who in the world played for you? 
once you make it past the crowd of people, coaches, and players, you scan the field. 
and your mouth drops open. 
on the opposite side of the soccer field, sitting on the bench right in front of you, was kim sunoo. the real one, your brother. 
he was decked out in face paint and—
was that your uniform? 
somehow, you manage to make eye contact. you begin mouthing words furiously at him, only for him to point at the crowd. 
frowning, you turn around toward the audience and performing band. you squint. 
your mouth drops again. because there in the crowd, sitting in the middle row right in front of you, were your parents.
immediately, you turn around and flee toward the locker rooms, signaling for sunoo to follow while everyone was still distracted with your team’s win. 
you don’t even get to take a single step when the announcer clears his throat to say something. 
“attention everyone! enhypen is disqualified. they must forfeit this match and immediately report to the main office.” 
gasps and protests immediately ring out. 
you hide behind a water cooler, gauging the guys reactions. they all look confused and upset. 
niki stalks over to the camp director and coach, where an unimpressed taehyun stands with his arms crossed. 
“what’s going on? why do we have to forfeit? we won fair and square, there’s no-“
“i wouldn’t count lying and having a girl on your team as fair and square, nishimura.”
the whole team outbursts, while your coach sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. 
the director eyes sunoo, “we have pretty good reason and evidence to believe that kim sunoo is not who he—or she—states they are.” 
sunoo immediately stands up as the rest of the team gapes at him.
“females are not allowed at this camp, let alone allowed on a team to play in the final championships.”
taehyun nods. he had found too many irregularities with you, kim sunoo. the conversations with your mom, video footage of you sneaking into the locker rooms as a guy and exiting as a girl, and the fake sideburns and eyebrows in the trash can. 
niki stands still, hands clenched as he glares at sunoo. 
he can hear the rest of the guys whispering in disbelief.
“this makes no sense. how could he be a girl after all this time?”
“and no one noticed…”
“—this is absurd.”
the announcer sighs, and speaks up once more to the entire stadium. “i apologize once again to the crowd and opponent team for the inconvenience. enhypen will be removed from the tournament due to dishonesty and lack of regards for the rules. 
i do not want to repeat it—no females are allowed to play on any team for any reason whatsoever!”
you gasp, covering a hand over your mouth. you were still partially hidden, and you know if you were found, it would be over. 
sunoo sighs, facing the guys and camp director. 
“put enhypen back in the game. we didn’t break any rules. i’m not a girl.” 
taehyun’s eyes narrow. “you can’t lie your way out of it again. we have all the evidence we need.”
sunoo gestures out grandly, toward your team and the crowd. 
“do i have to spell it out to you? i’m a guy. this is ridiculous. what, you want me to prove i’m not a girl? i’ll pull down my pants or-“
clamor follows, but it’s stopped by a desperate yell. 
you watch from afar, as your parents stalk up to the director. your mother, as expected, seems adamant as she validates her son’s words. 
“excuse me, but there seems to be an issue with my son, here. there’s no possible way you would be doubting his identity?”
“ma’am, we have submitted evidence that your son sunoo is actually a-“
“and so do i. would you like to see his birth certificate? i didn’t pay for my son to attend this camp to simply get disqualified for a ridiculous accusation.”
after a few minutes of deliberation, against taehyun’s protests, the director sighs and rubs his hands together. you hold your breath. the verdict?
“we apologize for our mistake—enhyphen is not disqualified and will be moving on to the next round. let the next match commence!”
you watch your team breathe a sigh of relief, clapping sunoo on the back. but your gaze can’t seem to stay off of niki. he stays off to the side, fists still clenched. he hasn’t looked or said a single word to sunoo—you. 
you know him, there’s a storm brewing inside. 
and it’s all because of you. 
you see the crowd return to normal, your mom furiously spewing nonsense as your parents walk back to their seats. 
you nod at your brother, this is your chance. 
you run towards an empty hallway, waiting for your brother to bring you your clothes. 
“sorry,” sunoo heaves, “they’re sweaty.”
“it’s okay,” you grab them and shut the unused closet door behind you. “i’m used to it by now.”
sunoo waits outside the old janitor closet, keeping watch as you change and exchange identities, once again. 
once you exit, sunoo’s eyes widen.
“wow, you look exactly like me.” 
you smirk. “and you’re horrible at soccer.”
he shoves you softly and you laugh. “thanks bro. i really owe you one for saving me out there.”
he nods, “anything for my sister. i need to sneak back to the band though. let me know if you need anything and good luck.” 
you hug him quickly. “of course.” the confidence that surged through you as you walked back toward the field, knowing your brother had your back, empowers you. 
“guys,” you call out, “i’m back. what’s going on?”
some of the guys still send you weird looks, but you ignore it. niki’s still ignoring you, and it makes a dreadful feeling grow in the pit of your stomach. 
the matches were cut down in order to fit all of them in one day and preserve the player’s energies. 
but your team was excelling. you had already advanced to the semifinals, as expected. with you back and eager to play, the team was running smoothly. 
after winning your third match, jay and heeseung high five you. 
“nice, sunoo. i don’t know what happened to you during the first game, but you redeemed yourself.” you cough, muttering some lame excuse. 
everything was going great, all except for one person. every break, time out, the whole time, niki acted as if you didn’t exist. 
in the middle of the game, you would keep up with him, waiting for him to pass the ball. but niki being the stubborn person he was, ignored you and tried to keep going even when you were open.
mistakes were costly, and you could feel the tension building up. the other guys were getting agitated, you could tell, but he wouldn’t budge. 
you kept telling yourself, one more match. all you needed to do was win one more match and that would be it. 
it was nearing the end of the day. everyone was sweaty and exhausted. half the crowd had left, but your parents were still there, cheering for their son meanwhile in reality, he was playing in the band a few meters away in the stands and their daughter was on the field. 
the final match was occurring, enhypen vs. zerobaseone. you knew, it wasn’t going to be easy. not with an uncooperative niki. 
and by the first half, you were right. after calling out niki so many times to pass the ball and receiving nothing in response, everyone was on edge. 
the score was still 0-0. several times niki would get the ball stolen or make the ball go out, all while ignoring you. you swear he even tripped you at one point. 
at halftime, your coach and teammates were fed up too. “come on, niki. get your head in the game!”
“what’s going on with you and sunoo today?”
“you’re costing us too many opportunities. kim’s open and you’re obviously not giving it to him for a reason! figure it out, nishimura.” 
all he does is shake his head, chugging water and staying silent. 
you’re tired. your coach shakes his head in frustration, muttering off about personal issues.  
the team is completely off balance, and everyone can feel it. 
but only you can do something about it. 
with heavy breaths, you match up to niki in front of the whole team. 
“nishimura riki!” you call out his real name, causes him to react for a second with the slight widening of his eyes before he reverts to his cold facade again. 
“why are you doing this right now? we’re a team, now that we got so far, don’t you want to win?
“maybe you should’ve thought about that before lying to me and breaking our friendship,“ he replies ruthlessly.  
you sigh, pinching your nose bridge, “it wasn’t my intention to do so! i never had any intention of doing so, and i never will! i don’t like minji and i never tried to get with her.”
you exhale, trying to calm yourself while the whole team was watching. 
“i will never like minji.”
he scoffs, “why should I believe you after everything?”
“because the whole time i’ve been genuine. you’re one of my closest friends i’ve made here at the camp. if i really wanted to date minji, i would have told you that. you know i tried my best to help you,” your voice cracks at the last sentence. 
he looks confused for a second before his eyes harden. 
“whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore. i can’t trust anything you say or do now.”
you grab his arm, desperate. 
“we’ve been honest about everything, haven’t we? i don’t want to lose you, and i don’t want our team to lose this chance of winning. i don’t care about minji. i could prove it right now.”
he challenges you, eyes dark. just like he had since the first day. 
“how? how will you prove it?” 
you close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. you decided this was your chance to let it all out. after this, you would go home anyway. whether you would be forced back to your old, mundane life as your mother wanted was up to the future. you open your eyes, finally feeling like yourself as you begin taking off the fake sideburns, eyebrows, and finally, the wig. 
“like i said, i don’t care about minji.”
you finally untie your hair and shake it out free. 
“i care about you.” 
with an eruption of shocked gasps and whispers, you falter. perhaps you should have waited until after the final game. your true identity and appearance were revealed. everything was out in the open.  
niki states blankly at you, chest heaving. 
you think you faintly hear your parents shriek your name. ignoring them, you step closer to him. 
“i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i lied to you about this. but please believe me when i say i’m y/n, and i never meant to hurt you. so for right now, can we save this for later and just focus on beating the crap out of our opponents?”
you take the chance to glance around, seeing everyone’s shocked expressions.
silence falls as your coach speaks up, “this is illegal…”
you glance away, unable to say or do anything. 
what you don’t expect is the team’s clamors, especially from jungwon who you abruptly make eye contact with. 
he’s the first to speak up and advocate for you staying on the team. 
“coach we all knew the rules… but we can’t not let her play after she’s proven herself all this time.”
“it’s unfair to deny her the right to play after she’s been working so hard this entire season with us!”
as the rest of the boys join in, your coach looks helplessly at the director. soon enough, people from the audience join in too. 
you can’t help the hopeful smile that breaks out on your face, seeing your parents still in shock yet not disapproving.  
after a couple of minutes of deliberation (and your internal praying and pleading) along with the crowd and band’s support, the camp director begrudgingly allows you to play. 
the guys cheer, clapping you on the back and high-fiving you. all except niki, who still lingers at the side with an unreadable expression. 
then, it’s time to play. 
it feels different, already. you feel different—with the wind blowing your hair behind you and the ability to speak in your normal voice, act as your normal self.
no, to be your normal self.
you ran faster, spotted clearer, worked harder. you felt renewed. 
and once you saw the opening, with three minutes left, you glance at niki desperately. you hoped you conveyed everything in your face at that split second, like extending your arm out and hoping he would help you up from the ground. 
niki cleanly passes the ball to you, just so you can score a final goal. 
you don’t even realize it, once the final whistle blows, you almost collapse onto the grass. 
roars erupt in the air, people around you lift you up and throw you around. yet, your eyes are only on one figure to your left. somehow, in all the commotion, niki grabs your hand in happiness. then he realizes the situation and your grip is broken by your ecstatic team. 
your eyes lock for a moment before niki turns away, head slightly shaking and you frown. 
you won. but at what cost? 
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on the last day of camp, after surprisingly receiving a lot of praise from your parents on your performance (as well as an apology from keeping you and sunoo from your respective passions), you finish packing up everything. 
when you got back to the dorms last night, niki was sleeping with the lights off and his back to you. you were still hurt, but at least he let you back into your room. 
you pack up silently, in case he was sleeping. 
even if he was asleep, you speak up softly. 
“i’m sorry. i’m really, really sorry niki….”
his shadowy figure remains unmoving. 
“i-i hope you know everything i ever said and did was genuine. at least, to me it was. i li-“ you bite the words back on your tongue. 
“i cared about you a lot. i care about you a lot. i’ll cherish this summer forever. thank you for the best memories. thank you for changing my life completely. thank you for being you, riki.” 
figuring that anything you two had was over, you got your stuff ready to go while blinking away the tears. 
during the final breakfast, you talked to minji and apologized. she took it much better than you expected, promising to keep in touch as real friends now with no hard feelings left. 
the boys on your team were just as quick to warm up to you. besides consoling you over niki, they promised to keep in touch as well. you were more than glad and appreciative to have friends and soccer mates. 
in your daze, reflecting over the course of the last day or so, you feel your phone vibrate. 
[11:36 am] sunbro: we’re on our way back  
[11:37 am] sunbro: better hurry up if you’re not packed and ready!
you gather your stuff and say your final goodbyes to your coaches, friends, and finally, the camp. 
you’re happy and sad to be leaving it all behind. maybe until next year now that they decided to let girls join this soccer camp. 
with your heavy bags, you trudge along your way outside. you stared around at the campus for the last time by yourself. 
it was strange to have some peace and quiet without the ruckus of the soccer camp and guys. one last attempt to capture everything one last time—one of your most memorable and life changing summers. 
and maybe a tiny bit of you was searching, holding onto that little piece of hope just to see that one person’s face for the last time. 
but it’s silent. you come to a slow when you reach the gates, gathering your stuff to head out. 
now you wait. you wait to leave with much more than you entered with. 
sighing, you freeze when you hear shuffling, the sound of… footsteps approaching you?
you don’t want to get your hopes up, but you hold your breath. 
turning around, you see him. 
your grip on the suitcase squeezes harder. 
he looks divine, comfy in his last day fit that wasn’t his jersey or training uniform. 
“hey,” he starts off. 
“hi,” you breathe. for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to meet his intense gaze.
niki doesn’t say anything at first, so you take the chance to speak up. 
“what’s up? i figured… you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”   
hands shoved in his pockets, he fidgets on his feet. a tiny smile appears on your face. 
“i don’t know, there’s a lot i’ve been thinking about.”
your chest tightens. “i see. d-do you want to share?” you finally look him in the eye and it’s like time freezes. 
niki isn’t able to handle seeing you like this, your real self. he thought you were too pretty for your own good. too good at pretending to be a guy and too good at making him react like this without even doing anything. without even knowing. 
he thought it was over too. but after he heard what you said that night after the championships, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. about the entire summer with you. this time, he wouldn’t let you slip away from him like you did at the fair.
niki glances down, taking a few steps closer as your eyes widen. “i miss my roommate who was also one of my closest friends. i really, really liked him. but i also really, really like the girl i met at the fair. she was beautiful, charming, uplifting.”
you place a hand over your chest, “i think they feel the same way,” you whisper. 
“i’m really sorry that i didn’t tell you,” you start off, “i was afraid of getting caught-and of all the consequences, so i tried to hide and cover everything up. it was incredibly selfish of me to hurt others, you, without realizing it. i’m so sorry.”
niki reaches a hand out to grab yours, “yeah, you hurt me. but you also healed me. in more ways than you think. i think, if you hadn’t snuck in as a guy, we would have never met and gotten as close as we did. you really changed my life too.” 
he says your name, and you look at him. hesitantly, fearfully. 
as if you would mess it all up again and he would leave you once more. 
you swallow. 
“everything we did together as friends, as someone i wasn’t, just made me like you even more as myself.” 
he takes a step closer. 
“is there any chance we could start over?”
niki chuckles and you feel your face getting hot.
“i’m nishimura riki. and you are?”
you stare down at his offered hand in shock. 
it takes only a second for you to proudly state your name, reaching a hand out to meet his. 
“a pretty name for a pretty face.”
you flush. where did this side of niki come from? 
“it’s very nice to meet you,” he adds, “quite nice. almost an honor after all the things i heard about you, well, from yourself-“ 
you shove niki. there was his playful side again. you relax a little seeing him be more like his old self. 
although, he catches your arm and quickly pulls you into him. 
you almost yelp, wide eyes boring into his playful ones. it feels comfortable in his embrace, almost like home. 
the distance between you two closes, smiles on your faces growing as you feel your heartbeats collide when his lips finally touch yours. 
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“bye mom! i’ll text you later, sunoo!”
your mom yells for you to be careful as you slam the door shut behind you (not without giving your brother a quick hug on the way out).
you carry your duffel bag on one arm as you head over to the waiting vehicle, with a particularly dashing man inside. 
he, however, gets out as you run towards him. he picks you up and spins you around as you laugh at his excitement—it was his favorite sound that he could never get enough of.
he places a sweet kiss on your lips and you smile happily at him. 
“you ready to play, babe?”
“as ready as i’ll ever be, bro.” 
“you totally just did not call your loving, awesome, superior boyfriend that…”
“but i did?” you raise an eyebrow as to challenge him, “and you’re gonna accept it because you like me too much.” 
with a sigh, your boyfriend heeds your words as he always does. 
niki’s arms stay forever wrapped around you and your soccer bag as he awkwardly walks the both of you to your side of the car. 
“whatever, let’s just go kick some ass.” 
“oh, you bet i will.”
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a/n ▸ hi guys... surprise?? yes, i'm alive. i was in the hospital for a little and really needed to focus on my health so i decided to take a break. i apologize for the longass wait on the ending of this series, so i crammed to get it done :) thank you as always for the support and love. i appreciate all the feedback <3 i'll be trying to get back on a better, more consistent schedule so see you guys soon again!
MAIN TAGLIST ▸ @precioussoulofmine @kynrki @heesterical @jungwonize @rerequire @nvertheless @duolingofanaccount @hoeshii @love-4-keum @nyanggk @luvhyun3 @dimplewonie @yjjungwon @flwrshee
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olive-fics · 3 months
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can we reverse uno your loser abby and see some loser reader. i always think about what modern abby and i would be like in the stories here and honestly lmfao, i'd be hiding in my college dorm playing botw ft'ing ellie and she would be the concerned RA that wonders why i never leave my room and sit in the dark all day. on a good day i think we'd parallel percy and annabeth
Oh my gosh YES. I'm not much of a BOTW player so I cannot make any references. (sorry.) not proof read and not very thought out..
LoserReader!: who gets taken to the mall by Abby knowing you would try to stop at every video game store, pop culture, or figurine store to find something related to your favorite show or videogame just to end up not buying it. Abby spoils you anyway.
Abby:"I'll just buy it for you. . It's only like..$50."
Y/N:"$50..??"
Abby: "I'll spend $50 on you, it's your favorite game so.. why not? Plus, you're my girlfriend."
Gf!Abby: who notices you replaying your favorite game over and over again even though she just bought you a new video game you BEGGED for last week.
Abby: "Breath of the Wild..? Again.? What about that one game I jus- Nevermind."
Gf!Abby: Who isn't much of a gamer but still wants to support you, comes back from stores and stops by after work to get you something related to your interest.
Abby:"It's just a little figure, I saw it on the display and thought you'd like it."
Y/N:"LEMME SEE!"
Gf!Abby: Who leaves for work at 9am, coming back from work at 5pm seeing you in the same place she saw you in before she left. Either in your bed or on the couch playing your video games on call with Ellie Williams.
Ellie:"Dude Holy shitt! You didn't tell me this part would be so difficult..! Y/n!"
Gf!Abby:Who takes you to anime/Gaming conventions to be a nerd and watch you fangirl over your interests.
Y/N:"Abby! Abs! Look! This is the limited edition collector's Figure from 2006 that has the-" You get the point.
Gf!Abby:Who cosplays your favorite character's and plays video games with you to make it more fun.
I feel like Abby would be the type to make you do the same with her interests in a way? Like we all know she likes to work out, I feel like she'd drag you to the gym or into the studio to lift some weights and do yoga or something.
Sorry if these sucked, I took a long break now I'm brain dead lol
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teethondafloor · 10 months
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Bill Kaulitz x gn!reader ~ Taking off Bill's makeup after a show.
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Year : 2006
Summary --
You and Bill have been best friends for over three years now and are completely inseparable. You two are partners in crime, ready to mock and poke fun at each other any chance you get, and even more ready to comfort each other right after. Tonight, the band happens to have a gig in your hometown, where you and Bill first met. You attend the concert and text Bill after, thrilled by the band's electric performance, when Bill has other plans in mind...
Bill Kaulitz x gn!reader
Cute friends to lovers arc
Warnings --
basic fluff (touching, kissing, etc)
Note --
This took me way too long to write but IM SO EXCITED TO POST IT AA. this is my first tumblr fanfic (I'm sadly a wattpad user) so sorry if it's bad :D
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{{y/n}} : dude! That was awesom! You rocked!
{{BILL}} : I hope. My throat hurts lol. Where r u?
{{y/n}} : headin home. U?
{{BILL}} : WTF no! I want to c u b4 u leave!
{{y/n}} : cope. Where r u??
{{BILL}} : backstage dressing room. I can sneak you in!
{{y/n}} : I will get caught!
{{BILL}} : no! I am comin for u. Where r u?
{{y/n}} : at the exit doors :P.
{{BILL}} : STAY.
{{y/n}} : OK.
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Standing near the exit doors of the venue, I wait for Bill to emerge from his post-show hideaway as I look around the empty room, which just moments ago was overflowing with screaming fans. I gaze up at the dim lights above, now painting the room in a slight yellow wash which my eyes peer at weakly after standing in the dark for almost 3 hours. The air-con is blasted through the room, the cool air brushing up against my bare arms and slapping me in my face momentarily as it passes me and continues lingering around the room.
After spending some time taking in my surroundings, I snap out of my thoughts and feel the hair on my arms rise, reacting to the cool air circling the area. At the other side of the room near the stage, I hear a sudden rummaging sound coming from the corner, casted with a dark shadow. I squint my eyes a little, wondering if it's Bill that's making all the noise. From the loud clanks and banging sounds, I can tell that the person is struggling through their journey. Must be him, I smile to myself. I slide my hands into my front jean pockets, continuously glancing over to the security who are stood by the doors, surprised that they don't hear the ruckus. I look back at the noise, which now grows fainter as I hear soft footsteps tiptoeing into the concert venue.
As I hear this, I notice a tall, dark figure slowly emerging from the dark corner, the black fog lurking behind it. I smile and take my hands out of my pockets, knowing that its Bill from his giant spiky hair sprouting from his head, which is the first thing I see as he steps into the room. He takes a few light steps closer, just enough to keep himself hidden from the security guards scouring around the area. As he comes closer, his face is lit up by the soft lights above us, making the ends of his dark hair glow beneath the light, and revealing his wide smile as he sees me at last. He's so bad at sneaking around, I scoff gently.
Not wanting to be seen by the employees, Bill stays behind the stage and out of their sight. I look up and see as he nods to the ground beneath him, signalling me to walk over to him. My eyes widen and I look over to the security, trying to communicate to Bill that I can't just walk up to him without being stopped. A puzzled look washes over his face and he bites the inside of his cheek, thinking. I point at the watch that's tied to my wrist, knowing that the doors will soon close for the night and I will be kicked out of the building if we don't hurry. Bill looks down at the ground before turning back to me and nodding, determined to get me backstage with him. At once, He runs back into the black void behind him, leaving me alone in the room again. I inch forward a little, wanting to run after him, before I stop myself, trusting that he has a plan.
One of the security guards at the doors notices me when I shuffle forward and calls to me form afar. "Excuse me, we need you to leave right now." Shit, I think. I freeze up for a second as he calls to me, glancing over to the corner for any sign of Bill one last time. Agitated that he fled, I look down at the floor and back at the guard. "Yeah sorry, I thought I lost something." I lie as an excuse for my long stay. Just as I'm about to take my first step towards the exit, all of the lights in the room shut off by the click of a switch, the dark swallowing everything and everyone in the room. All of the sudden, I hear firm and heavy footsteps running towards me from the opposite side of the room. Before I can even put my other foot on the ground, the footsteps are cut off and I feel as someone grabs my hand and pulls me, running back with me latched onto them. As I feel their hand in mine, I instantly know it's Bill, his many bracelets which cover half of his forearm rubbing up against my wrist as we sprint ahead and disappear behind the stage. The security guard is left clueless when the lights shut off, and speaks to the black void, only getting the sound of his own echo in response "...did you find what you were looking for? Excuse me?..."
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With a tight grip on my hand, Bill leads me into a tight alleyway, between the back of the stage and the dressing room which he climbed through before. The space is shielded from any light and trashed with clutter from previous bands performing at the venue. We giggle as we stop before walking through it. "Hey" he says with a smile, huffing from laugher. I can tell he is facing me, even in the complete darkness that surrounds us. "Hey" I say, lightly breathless from the excitement. We both peer through the tight gap, trying to spot an obstacle to look out for from afar, however, the shade absorbs any object inside, turning them invisible. I hear Bill turn to me again, his breath on my forehead. "Follow me, come on!" He giggles as he lifts up our hands which are still in a warm clasp. "Go!" I whisper whilst still laughing, nudging him forward playfully. Bill starts taking long and cautious steps through the alleyway, hesitating a little when he hits any object beneath us. I follow his lead, being cautious myself. I run my hand across the wall as we walk to keep myself balanced. Halfway through the black tunnel, I hear as Bill kicks an object at his feet. Still walking, I bump into his back, causing me to flinch a little. "Dude. what is it?" I whisper to him. I hear Bill rummaging gently through the junk with his feet, clearing a path for us to walk through. He laughs "I don't know, it scared the shit out of me" We both try and hold in our laughter and continue through the gap.
As we reach the end of the alley, a streak of light peers through a crack in the wall, revealing some of the junk that is spread out on the ground around us: Magazines, cigarettes, a white laced bra....I turn my head to the back of Bill's as I speak. "What is this? your sex dungeon?" I say, smiling with sarcasm in my voice. I hear Bill scoff and smile. "If it is, it's definitely not mine." We both giggle quietly. At last, we reach the end and I step back as Bill lets go of my hand and starts messing with the crack in the wall, which to my surprise, turns out to be a secret doorway to the venue's dressing room. He pushes on the heavy object which blocks the doorway, sliding his fingers under it, trying to shuffle it to the side. Seeing him struggle, I step forward and push the object forward to help, successfully forcing it out of the way.
Before stepping into the dressing room, we take a minute to catch our breaths; I lean on the wall next to me, and look at Bill as he pants. We lock eyes and burst into quiet laughter, still a little breathless. "I need to see this stupid fucking room" I say, smiling. I step away from the wall and finally enter the dressing room. The overhead lights gleam, almost blinding me as I step in, forcing me to raise my hand and shield my eyes from them. I look around, never had been backstage of a concert venue before.
A faint smell of cheap makeup and pungent nail polish lingers in the room, the sharp chemical scent burning my nostrils as I inhale it. I admire the lit up mirrors lined up along the wall, covered in stickers left behind by other musicians however long ago. Bill's and his bandmates' belongings are spread across the room, creating a small pile of clothes and bags on a large bean bag, pushed into the corner of the room. "Where are the others?" I say, referring to his bandmates. I turn my head to look back at Bill who steps into the room with his head titled down, before looking around the room himself. "They're at some party right now." He slides his hands into his pockets.
"They went without you?" I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion, knowing Tom would not leave him out like this. "no no...I didn't want to go...I don't even know where it is, and I'm exhausted." He says as he stretches his arms out gently. "Dude!" I exclaim "We could've went there!" I punch him on the shoulder playfully, causing him to shoot his hands up to his face in defence. "You can go! I'm not going" He says with a judgemental look, teasing.
I hover around the room and view the splash of graffiti on one of the walls, seeing the signatures of hundreds of bands and musicians from the past, piled on top of each other into a barely legible scribble. "How did you even find the sex dungeon?" I'm still looking at the wall when he takes off his leather jacket and throws it at me without warning, as he says with a smile "I got bored waiting for Gustav to set up." a look of surprise bursts onto my face as I catch the jacket in my hands, which I then throw onto the pile with the rest of their junk, laughing.
"So, how do you like my dressing room?" He gestures his arms, showcasing the space and waits for my response. "You are really living the life here...I mean damn. "My eyes follow the walls, stopping to observe the space again. I raise my eyebrows. "You can't help but make it a shithole though." I say sarcastically, picking up a pair of boxer shorts I saw hanging from a chair next to me. He gasps and laughs, stepping towards me and snatching his boxers from my hands before throwing them onto the pile in the corner. I snicker when I see his red cheeks, blushing furiously from embarrassment as I infect him with my laughter. "Shut up! They're gonna hear us in here!" He whispers with a smile stretched wide across his face, still blushing. He walks over to me and gently grabs me by my shoulders, shaking me to stop me from laughing. As he holds me, I put my hand up to my mouth, covering it and muffling out the sounds of my giggles. I then push him away playfully, to which he steps back. "Stop touching everything, you're gonna break something." He whispers in a joking tone.
"Especially not your trunks." I huffed from laughter. Bill blinks slowly, visibly annoyed from my teasing. "I'm serious though, don't break anything because they'll make you pay for it." I notice how he avoids my eyes and tries to change the subject. "Oh come on...I'm not that clumsy. They should make you guys pay for trashing this room so bad." I smile. He looks down, smiling at my comment, his red cheeks growing fainter.
Bill walks over to the vanity across from us, cluttered with his makeup and endless hair products. He sits down, adjusts himself on the chair slightly and looks into the mirror, which reveals a tired face, caked in makeup and hairspray, looking back at him. I walk over to him and sit on the counter next to the mirror, kicking my feet which hang from the tall surface. I take a moment to look at him, as the vanity's warm lights glimmer in his eyes.
"The concert was unreal." I say, breaking the thin silence between us. "I'm glad you came back to play here. You're everything anyone talks about round here since you got so famous." I look over to him, rubbing my arm that is propping me up on the table. I feel a little bitter-sweet about Bill's fame. On one hand I am so proud of what him and the boys have accomplished, in like what...a year? It's insane. Though, I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss just hanging out. Being able to sit for hours and do nothing together. They always have something to do now, with no time to sit in the moment. The guilt of this pools inside me. It makes me feel like a brick wall that's cutting him off on his path. My biggest fear however, is Bill not knowing how to break down this wall, quietly tolerating my burden instead. "Really? I noticed so many people from school there, I really didn't want to fuck up." He says, now looking up at me with his head resting on his palm. "I'm pretty sure I saw Leon all the way at the back, poor guy got pushed out of the crowd." We laugh.
"As much as I like traveling around and playing, this feels better. I can't explain it." He smiles as he begins to stumble over his words. "I don't know, it only feels right to perform here you know?" He looks to me.
"Nah I get you, and we're glad you did." I smile at him and my eyes are suddenly drawn to his eye makeup, now rubbing off on his cheeks after every blink. "What?" He says and quickly turns to the mirror, now seeing his smudged eyeshadow. His eyes widen in shock, seeing how messy he looks after a show. "Dude, you look insane." I burst out laughing, placing my hand over my mouth as I holler. "Shut up!" He groans, laughing with me "I'm too tired for this".
I control my laughter and wait a moment before nudging one of the chairs at the vanity with my leg, sliding it closer to Bill. I hop onto it, now directly facing him. "Come here." I say. He turns away from the mirror as I grab a dry cotton pad from a pack on his desk and drip some makeup remover onto it, watching it absorb the chemicals. He inches towards me, pushing his hair away from his face to help me, and closing his eyes slowly as the cotton pad touches his cheek, working away at his pale foundation. We sit in silence for a few seconds, enjoying each others company while I scrub at the cosmetics, washing away the excitement and fatigue of the long night that has soaked into it. "Did you really want to go to that party? We could still go if you're desperate." Bill says quietly, breaking the silence.
"Nah..." I whisper "I'd rather be here with you." when my hand grazes over his face, I feel a thin smile spread across his cheeks when he hears my words. He peers at me with his eyes half shut and backs away a little. "Look at you being all sappy..." he smiles.
"Shut up and give me your face." I say, taking a hold of his jaw and pulling his face closer to my reach. He lets out a short exhale, charmed by my boldness. I run the cotton pad across his face, quickly rubbing it over his lips playfully. He smiles again now with his teeth. "That was so on purpose..." He says with his eyes still sealed shut. "What?...no.." I say sarcastically.
After dirtying the cotton pad with his foundation, I grab a second one and move up to his shadowed eyes. "Keep your eyes closed...I need to sort all this out." I scoff, laughing as I poke fun at the mess painted on his eyes that has now somehow travelled up to his eyebrows. I take the pad and a wet wipe for good measure, massaging his eyelids. He swallows quietly "I've really missed you" he says out of nowhere. A little stunned, I continue cleaning him. "Me too." My tone suddenly shifts and you can hear a faint sadness in my voice. "I'm sorry I've been going away all the time, I would take you with us if I could..."
"Don't worry about it...I'm always back here if you need me anyway."
"Well I...don't want you only when I need you, I want you everywhere with me." I'm shocked by his sudden sentimentality, not really knowing how to respond since our usual way of showing love is by bullying each other until one caves in. "I know I know, that's not what I meant." I reassured him.
"I know, it's cool." he whispers "You know...sometimes I wish we wouldn't have to travel for so long, I've missed this." he pauses "Y/n...what if I stay?" He falls quiet, waiting for me to say something to fill in the silence. I look to him, a subtle face of worry crossing my face as I pull myself together. "Dude, stop." I say "Don't be stupid, this is...a crazy opportunity. Getting to travel around Europe and sing, that's nuts....don't let me hold you back...please."
"You're not "holding me back" y/n-"
I cut his sentence short "But what if I am? And you're just not realising it?...I don't want to be that." I blurt out.
"What?..." He opens his eyes, takes me by my wrists and holds me, preventing me from moving. His eyes glare at me. "No...don't do that. You're not in my way, do you understand?" His tone turns more agitated, worried that I'm giving myself a hard time because of his absence. A sudden silence falls between us like a transparent wall piling up and separating us, numbing me to his touch. This time, I'm not the wall. "Have you been worrying about this while I've been gone?" he looks to me hoping I'll say no, but already knowing the answer before the words leave his mouth. "Yeah...a little....a lot." I correct myself "You can't blame me though...I don't see you for weeks, sometimes even months. I know that's not your fault, but I'm allowed to be upset." I say, standing my ground.
"I know, it upsets me too." He lets go of my wrists and slides his hands down to mine, gently holding my hands with care. He smiles softly as he holds me, rubbing the top of my right hand with his thumbs, which makes both of us smile. We take time to comfort each other, acknowledging how hard the situation is for the both of us, yet we pull through. "Well you're here now." I sigh "You're stopping here for a while I heard, aren't you?"
"Yeah, we're taking a break here until we tour in the East." He says "And I'm glad I'm spending it with you." His eyes admire me as he speaks. I shift my hand a little, making him let go, and I return to his smeared eye makeup.
"So how's life without me at your hip?" He smiles as I exhale and roll my eyes, teasingly. "Better than ever." I say, with a sarcastic tone, making Bill gasp. "School's ok I guess, it's a teensy bit more bearable than last year at least." I take a short pause "...I won a writer's award two weeks ago..." I hold my breath as I wait for the buckets of Bill's compliments and praise to flood the room when he hears of my accomplishment. His eyes shoot open and his neck tilts forward in awe, his lips apart. "Are you kidding? That's amazing y/n! Why didn't you tell me??" He pushes me lightly on the shoulder.
"You expect way too much of me..." I shake my head and smile.
"I knew you would win! I told youuu..." he makes sure to rub the fact that he believed in me in my face before congratulating me "Well done, I'm really proud of you y/n..." He gazes into my eyes and gently places his hand on my knee. I observe his movements and quickly glance away, smiling. "Ok you can shut up now."
"Never. How can I when I'm being taken care of by a future author! Maybe I'll let you write my biography when you're as famous as me ;)" He teases, knowing I don't know how to handle compliments, yet he never fails to praise me anyway, just so I know. "Ok enough! Fine, I'm... proud of myself too I guess!"
"That's the spirit!" he taps my knee lightly, taking his hand away and resting it back onto the arm of his chair. I smile and shake my head, a little flustered from his admiration which, I hate to admit, I secretly love. "So how's tour so far? Are you eating well?" I ask with nurture in my voice as gratitude for his compliments. "Of course I am...you care way too much." He smiles.
"And you're right." I reply, playfully.
"I love that you care so much...even when you pretend you don't." His voice quietens.
"What does that mean?" I scrunch my eyebrows at his words.
"I don't know...you're just so...thoughtful. You always know what to do and say and-"
"Yeah right." I smile, a little overwhelemed by the flood of compliments. "Thanks though, I really do try my best."
"And that's enough for me." He whispers, his cheeks turning a faint pink. "You make me good...or feel like, at my core, I am good. I love it." without teasing or poking fun at him for once, I let him spill his emotions out onto the table where we both can see . I sit and listen, gently wiping his eyes with care. "It's so hard to leave you here, stuck in this village. It's so hard to not hear you laugh and sing and dance beside me... It's so hard not to love you for all thise things" I feel his tender fingertips brushing against my knee as he talks, slowing my pace. Before I can reply, his other hand shifts to my second knee and he holds it delicately. "Bill..." I whisper, with a little confusion but an unexpected sprinkle of excitement rushing through me. he bites his lip, pondering what to say next and trying hard not to stumble over his words. He opens his eyes and gazes directly into my mine, seeing all of me. He takes my hand. I feel butterflies nibbling on the walls of my stomach, their fluttering wings tickling me as they desperately want to flee and touch and love. In the moment, I don't know if it's wrong to feel so much love and desire for him, this ravenous craving that eats me from inside. I can only do what feels right, and so I let the butterflies feed.
He swallows gently "I want to care for you just like you do...I want to..." His hand raises to my face, holding me and caressing my cheek with his thumb in small circles. My hand laches onto his wrist gently, weak to his tender touch. The room falls silent, the only sound in the room coming from the lights above us, buzzing, humming on one note to our intimate moment. "Can I..." His voice fades out slightly and cracks from nervousness. "Can I kiss you?"
His words ring in my head, bouncing off of my ear drums and into my throat, leaving me speechless. I hold him for a while, our hands sharing each other's warmth through touch. I glance down at his lips that are slightly open, breathing in the little air between us; inhaling the glass wall that not moments ago parted us. With desire and lust, my eyes look back into his, and I nod gently. He takes a second to process this, before cupping my face in the palm of his hands and pulling me closer to him, until the wall turns to paper and our lips are inches away from each other. As I close my eyes, I feel his plush lips on mine, sharing our sweet taste. The butterflies in me settle when we collide, and the walls around us feel as though they are caving in, trapping us in each other's arms. As he holds me, I feel cared for. Safe. Warm.
He kisses me delicately and then again with more passion, before pulling away to let me breathe. As he leans back, his mouth curves into a sweet smile, his lips now stained with my light lipstick. I laugh as I notice his red tinted lips, stained with my evidence. I take his hand again, locking my pointer finger with his. "Looks like I'll have to clean you up again..."
"What a shame..." Bill whispers sarcastically, a wide smile pulling apart his rosy cheeks, now matching his lips.
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Tysm for readingg :)) <3 this was so much fun to write
I'm currently working on a 12 part Bill Kaulitz x fem!reader fic on wattpad and I've published the first part!
teethondafloor on wattpad
Zuźka
548 notes · View notes
bless-my-demons · 8 months
Text
Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-One
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Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?
Warnings: More angst, but of the wolfy-variety!
Notes: I know I said two chapters before Jasper, but I had to fit this one in which is why I’m posting out of my normal window. Trust the process when it comes to why I did what I did this chapter lol and if you don’t spot it, everything will be fine (famous last words). Honestly I think I’m just healing inner me with how I wish conversations should’ve happened in the movie lol
Word Count: 2401
Series Masterlist
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• March 8th, 2006 • Home •
Reader
Time starts to pass by a little easier with Quil, the quiet isn’t as deafening even when there’s a comfortable silence. I think the same could be said for Quil, since all of his Rez friends have gone AWOL.
Our days are usually spent under blankets on my couch, watching movies and just being present for each other. Plus, there’s not much to do in this tiny ass town anyways.
“Heard anything?” I ask him tentatively, hopefully.
He shakes his head solemnly in response, eyes never leaving the tv. The fact that he doesn’t even want to talk about Jake or Embry twists a new little knife in my gut.
“I’m okay, Y/n/n.” The grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes and I hate it.
“It’s okay to miss them, I know it’s hard to be stuck with just me now-”
“Don’t.” He reaches over to grab my ankle since I’m facing him on the couch and drags it to his lap, “You’re here and they’re not. I was friends with them longer and they ditched me for other dudes. I’m where I want to be.”
“You don’t have to hold it all in, I’m familiar with that feeling.” I nudge his hand with my socked foot to get him to look at me. “What good am I if I don’t therapize you too?”
“That would insinuate I do anything for you, you won’t talk about him.” His gaze levels on me and I’m caught red handed.
“There’s not much to it, I-I loved him and he’s gone. End of story.” I pick at the loose strings on my blanket, the topic hard for me to meet his eyes.
“There’s everything to it.” He squeezes my foot, “Not end of story, you deserve to vent just as much as I do. You don’t need to feel guilty for grieving him, heartache is a real bitch.”
“Heartache is a bitch, huh?” I huff a laugh as I try to breathe through the tears that want to spring up.
“Y/n, I’m the loneliest guy on the planet. In the male friends department and the girlfriend department, don’t make fun of me.” His lighthearted tone trying and failing to make light of his situation.
“We’re just fucked, aren’t we?” His brown eyes meet mine as we commiserate in our collective sadness.
His head drops back against the back of the couch, “Beyond comprehension, my dear Y/n/n.”
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• March 11th, 2006 • Home •
Reader
My finger hovers over a text to Quil, asking him to come over, when I get a call from my other best friend.
“Bells, hey-”
“I need backup.” Her request draws me up short. “I’m going to the Rez-I need to see Jacob.”
“Bella, he’s with Sam now-”
“I don’t care anymore, you in?” She presses.
“I was in the second you called, I’ll be waiting outside.”
“Good, because I’m almost there.” Hanging up the phone, I grab a jacket and my shoes.
So much for the first day of Spring Break, might as well start it off with a bang.
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•March 11th, 2006 • Quileute Indian Reservation•
Reader
Bella slid to a stop in Jacob’s driveway and both of us hopped out, memories of bike-building settling like a weight in my stomach. It wasn’t even that long ago and I miss it, I miss Jacob.
Bella knocks on the glass pane of his front door and Billy Black answers, “Bella?”
“I need to see him.”
“He-,” glancing between us briefly, “he’s not in.” The lie blatantly obvious.
“I’m sorry,” Bella pushes past his wheelchair and inside the house, “I really need to see him.”
I remain awkwardly on the front porch, torn between not wanting to intrude or following my friend.
“Bella!” Billy’s warning is ineffective as she storms to Jacob’s room.
Just when the situation couldn’t possibly get worse, I spot four shirtless figures emerging from the forest by the house, Sam’s group.
I hear the back door open and shut and I just know it’s Bella.
I sprint around the house to catch up to her, “Bella!” But my warning falls on deaf ears, she’s on a warpath for the boys. “Shit.” I mutter under my breath.
Stomping up to the tallest - Sam, “What did you do?” She pushes his chest, hard. “What did you do, huh? What did you do to him?!”
“Hey - watch it!” The other two guys plus Embry shout as they step up around their leader.
“Easy.” The word is more of a growl than anything and it causes the hair on the back of my neck to rise.
If this comes to a fight, we’re fucked.
“He didn’t want this!” Her desperation pulls at my heart.
“What did we do? What did he do? What did he tell you?” The questions from the guy to Sam’s right are rapid-fire, his anger clearly volatile.
“He tells me nothing, because he’s scared of you!”
The same guy barks out a laugh, clearly he finds her concern for Jacob silly.
“Bella, let’s go home-” but my plead immediately goes unheard because she throws a fucking right hook for the guys face, son of a bitch.
“Too late now.” Another guy jokes, clearly enjoying the situation.
“Bella, get back!” Sam orders, trying to diffuse the situation as this guy begins to shake.
I grab her arm and we slowly start to retreat for her truck, too scared to turn and take our eyes off of the angry male.
“Bella…” I whisper, unsure of what to do.
“Paul! Calm down now.” The authority in Sam’s voice rings through the backyard, but it’s too late somehow.
The shaking and heavy breathing from Paul leads to a transformation that snatches my breath from my body - a wolf. And not just any wolf, a wolf from the fucking meadow. A wolf that saved us from Laraunt, now standing before us where Paul was.
Where Paul was.
Paul is a wolf. A really big one at that - a really big angry one.
Anger directed at Bella and by association, me. The death grip I have on her fucking arm has to be painful, but the menacing look in his eyes shocks me to my bones.
Bella moves before I do, using my tight grip on her to yank me into action with her as she makes for Jacob’s house.
“Bella! Y/n!” Jake yells, clearing the back porch railing in one leap, sprinting for us.
“Run! Jake, run!” Bella screams back at him, but he charges towards us anyways.
He jumps last minute before he reaches us and I trip trying to follow his path with my eyes before-
Before he turns into a fucking wolf too.
Jacob Black, our best friend, is a wolf? I mean, vampires are definitely a thing, but wolves?
Squaring off with Paul, both the russet-colored wolf and the silver-grey wolf launch for each other. Snapping and snarling as they roll into the woods, my heart painfully thumps in my chest, Jacob.
“Hey, take the girls back to Emily’s place.” Sam orders Embry and the last remaining male, both of them jogging over to us.
“I guess the wolf’s out of the bag.” They joke, ushering us up and towards Bella’s truck.
They’re wolves, Sam’s gaggle of Rez boys are fucking wolves. Jacob is one of them and so is Embry, what about Quil? Is this why they’ve ditched him, ditched us? Wolves can’t be friends with humans? What do I even tell him, or should I tell him anything?
My mind is racing a million miles an hour in the span of seconds with questions I desperately need answers to.
Embry holds open the passenger side door to Bella’s truck with a smile and I walk right past his invitation to climb in the bed with the newly acquainted Jared.
“Y/n, that’s not safe-”
“I’ll be fine.” I don’t even spare a glance at him with my monotone answer, I’m mad at him for how he’s treating Quil.
Jared raises his eyebrows and quirks a grin. “Feisty, I like it.”
Embry huffs as he shuts the door behind Bella and rounds the truck for the driver’s side, “Don’t encourage her, man.”
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• March 11th, 2006 • Uley Residence •
Reader
“Hey I think we should go back and see if Jacob’s okay.” Bella rolls down her window as the rest of us hop out of her truck.
“I hope Paul sinks some teeth in him, serves him right.” Jared quips to Embry.
“No way! Jacob’s a natural, you see him phase on the fly? I got five that says Paul doesn’t even touch him.” Embry argues, “C’mon in Bella! We won’t bite.”
“Speak for yourself.” Jared jokes and I shove him as we turn to walk inside.
“Oh hey, about Emily - Sam’s fiancé? Don’t stare, it bugs Sam.” Embry warns both of us before following Jared.
“Why would we stare?” Bella asks and I shrug, just as confused.
“You guys hungry? Like I have to ask.” The female in the kitchen asks the boys, laughing at what must be an inside joke. “Who’s this?” She asks after turning around, glancing between us.
“Bella Swan and Y/n Y/l/n.” Jared answers her.
“Hmm… So, you’re the vampire girl-well, girls.” I instantly admire her easy-going vibe, diving straight in to acknowledge the elephant in the room to get it over with.
“So you’re the wolf girl?” Bella asks in return, accepting her olive branch.
“Guess so,” smiling to herself, she picks up the largest platter I’ve ever seen of muffins, “Well, I’m engaged to one.” Snatching both Embry and Jared’s hands as they reach- “Save some for your brothers! And ladies first, muffin?” It’s comical, the way she mothers them.
“Thank you, Emily.” I smile at her and sit across from Jared, the muffin still warm from the oven.
“Leave it to Jacob to find a way around Sam’s gag order.” Emily scoffs, not surprised.
“Umm, he didn’t… Say anything to us.” Glancing at me, Bella explains.
“That’s a wolf thing, alpha’s orders get obeyed whether we want ‘em to or not. Oh and check it out - we can hear each other’s thoughts.” Embry brags and I gape, this is all fucking wild.
“Would you shut up! These are trade secrets - damnit, these chicks run with vampires!” Jared’s frustration is lighthearted as he admonishes Embry for giving away some of their abilities.
“Can’t really run with vampires,” Emily and I chuckle at the boys not quite catching on, “Because they’re fast.”
“Yeah? Well we’re faster. Freaked out yet?”
“You’re not the first monsters we’ve met.”
“Jake’s right, you’re good with weird.” Sam nods at us, beelining for Emily as soon as he steps in the door. He presses kisses to her lips and then all over her face, causing her to giggle. The obvious display of affection carving out my heart just a little bit more - looking away I set my muffin down, no longer hungry.
Pushing and shoving each other, Paul and Jacob finally show - unhurt and brotherly even. They just beat the shit out of each other and they’re tighter than ever? Boys.
“Sorry.” Paul apologizes and flashes what has to be his signature smile at both of us.
I catch Jacob jerking his head towards the door and Bella follows, probably off to explain this whole entire shit show. I turn my gaze to Embry and level a glare on my former friend, waiting for him to say something.
“You going to let me explain? Or are you going to look at me like you’d like to castrate me until Bella gets back?” Embry stares right back, munching on another muffin.
“Jared?” I look at him sweetly and he grins, “take me home?”
Embry stands so quick and his chair teeters dangerously on two legs for a moment. “Y/n.” His tone is hard, done with this game.
“Embry.” I match him back.
He walks out the front door and it drags me from my own chair, this blowout long overdue.
“You know now and you’re still fucking mad at me?” He turns, leaning against Bella’s truck and folding his arms.
“I don’t even know where to start, Embry!” I yell at him exasperated. “You ditched us, you ditched your longest running best friend-”
“I had no choice!”
“He’s struggling-”
“I’m struggling!” His eyes are wild and his hands have a slight shake, “Cutting everyone out has been the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done! I can’t tell anyone, can’t see anyone, can’t do what I want to do anymore! I belong to this Reservation, to this pack, to Sam now. He says jump, I ask how high. He says keep your mouth shut, I cut everyone out. It’s how it has to be.”
“Embry, that’s no way to live.” My heart breaks for his situation.
“It’s in my blood and not something I can opt out of, Y/n/n. Besides, they’re my brothers now and they need me as much as I need them.”
I surge forward to hug him, “I’m still mad at you for Quil.”
“I missed you too.” I hear his grin as I hug him tight. “You can’t tell him though.”
Immediately I retreat, “What?”
“It’s a tribe secret, the pack is sacred and must be protected.”
“He wouldn’t done anything to endanger-”
“It doesn’t matter, anyone on the outside has to stay on the outside. It’s not like I don’t want to, he’s my best fucking friend. But he doesn’t have a need-to-know.”
“Embry-”
“I can’t argue with you about this, please drop it.” His wide eyes plead with me and I surrender.
“Okay, okay. Consider it dropped.” I mime like I’m locking my lips closed and I toss the invisible key over my shoulder.
“Good,” throwing an arm over my shoulder, he leads me back inside, “Now you can hang with the big dogs.”
“Okay I’m going to need you to not make stupid jokes about this situation.” But I laugh anyways, I miss this - him.
I smile to myself, happy to finally have people back in my life that I thought were gone for good. I still feel the massive hole in my chest, but the pain is on the back burner for now.
At least until I’m alone again.
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behidethetrees · 9 months
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YOU COULD BE MY BABY, LET ME MAKE YOU MY LADY.
IN WHICH…Rafe Cameron cant get enough of you.
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem! Pogue!Reader
Contents: NON CANON!Rafe, Reader fixes cars, Kinda mean and flirty!Rafe, Your main friends are the pogues, This is set in the 2000s!
A/N!!: This is a prequel to this fic per @sublimepenguinpeach-blog request! Rafe is sooo boyfriend i need him idc. Enjoy!
Prequel Part 1
MARCH 2006. 
You were 16 years old when you met 17-year-old Rafe Cameron. You knew Rafe because Everyone on the island knows the Kook prince. Little did you know Rafe knew you too, Kinda. He heard rumors about a new girl moving to the outer banks, But when he found out you were a Pogue he quickly became uninterested.  At first, he thought you were Trash, You felt the same about him. You had heard so many stories about him from JJ and John B that you just believed he was as stuck up and entitled as they made him seem. 
One day at work you went outside to greet your 11 AM client when you realized It was Rafe Cameron. He stood In front of his black Truck, arms crossed and annoyed when he noticed you. Something about you just captivated Rafe's attention. Your face was angel-like with Soft features and big curious eyes that stared right back at Rafe's threatening ones. 
As you fixed His engine you never saw him carefully watching your hands or occasionally glance at your determined eyes, That was his favorite thing about you. Rafe didn't speak to you in the hour he was in your presence, He was afraid if he did, He wouldn't stop. Your voice was so sweet that Rafe knew he would get addicted to it sooner or later. 
You and the pogues attended midsummer and Rafe hated that he couldn't stop looking at you, From afar Your white flowy dress and your flower crown that he was sure Sarah made for you since yours matched hers. Rafe just couldn't help but ask about you. 
“Yo Top who's that chick next to Sarah? Never seen her.” Rafe lied while staring dead at you, Not bothering to move when you noticed. 
“Y/N Y/L/N I think.” Topper glances at Rafe's blank face, picking up on why he was asking.
“ Dude are you trying to bag that? She’s a Pogue, And out of your league.” Topper jokes while hitting Rafe's shoulder, Rafe took a quick look at Topper. 
“She's pretty hot for a pogue.” Rafe took a swig of his drink. 
“Good luck man, Heard she's hard to get.” Topper warns Him. Rafe only rolls his eyes. What Rafe didn't know was that you were talking about him too. 
“Oh my god he is staring at you, Ew!” JJ says as the rest of the group tries to hide their looks at Rafe and laughter.
“Think he likes you?” Kie suggests, You fake gag. 
“That's gross you would even say that.” You hit her on the arm, “I'm gonna go over here, you guys coming?” Your friends follow you to a different area that was out of Rafe's sight, Rafe was disappointed but he knew you two were bound to see each other again. 
And he was right, You two did see each other again. Only at another party one of your mutual friends was throwing. You were left alone on the couch When the only person you knew left to talk to some guy, You saw a blonde-headed boy with a white button-up sitting next to you, You didn't need to look twice to know it was rafe, You rolled your eyes. 
“Damn I just got here princess what's with the attitude?”  Rafe asks amused, Your “I hate you’ attitude didn't work on Rafe, If anything, It made him want you more. 
“Nothing.” You take a slip of your cup, He stares at your facial expression, Noticing your nose scrunching up in disgust as you drink out your cup.
“Can I get you another drink? I'm about to go get myself one.” Rafe offered, You were a bit confused as to why he was even talking to you but you accepted. When Rafe got back he handed you your drink and sat back down next to you. You never expected by the end of the night You would be lying next to a sleeping Rafe. He claimed he was “so drunk” he couldn't go home. 
His shirtless body in the pale moonlight and his messy Long hair in his face made your insides all mushy and your cheeks heat up. Were you feeling a certain way for Rafe Cameron? 
Rafe's unpredictability is what drew you to him, he was hard to read, intimidating, You liked that.
For the next months, you began to see Rafe more often. He knew how to crack you open and reveal everything he wanted to know about you, Within the second week of seeing Rafe he already knew your address and would sneak into the window of your small home at night where no one would catch him. You two didn’t just do malicious things together, Sometimes you two would stare at the stars on the beach and talk about what you two wanted in the future.
One day Rafe surprised you with a gold necklace, ‘R’ shaped, You had a feeling you knew why Rafe was giving this to you but couldn’t help but want to ask, But before you could speak, Rafe beat you to it. 
“ I know you're confused so I want to tell you that I love you Y/N and I want to be yours, as well as I want you to be mine.” He bluntly stated, wasting no time telling you how he feels. 
“You're the only person in the world I dont hate, You're the only person that knows me inside and out and I dont want that to change.” Rafe leg bounces up with anxiety, Waiting for you to respond. 
“Rafe…I love you too.” Rafe eyes visibly widened and he started to slightly smile. 
“But I dont want to be a secret, You’re gonna have to tell people you’re dating a pogue and I know you dont like that.” You looked at him, His jaw unclenched and his face softened.
“I will do whatever you want me to do Y/N, I'm not ashamed of you.” Rafe looked at you, searching for agreement in your eyes, “I dont care what people will say about us. I have loved you for so long nobody could change how I feel about you.” He wasnt lying. Rafe never let anyone dictate how he felt about things, He certainly wouldn't let someone try to tell him he shouldn't love you.  
“Yeah?” You smile at Rafe, He smiles back. 
“Yeah. Now let's put this necklace on and go out to eat Baby.” Rafe Smirks at you as he walked behind you to put on your necklace. You had mixed emotions. You loved Rafe and you were Glad you two finally made it official but you couldn't help the anxiety that pooled in your stomach.
As soon as you got the courage to tell the pogues, The very judgemental pogues, They were shocked to say the least. 
“Rafe Cameron?” “What the fuck?” “Definitely did not expect that one.” Spilled out of their mouths, You started to regret saying anything. But you couldn't keep a secret from the pogues. 
“Guys please listen, I know you guys dont like him and that's okay but you’re are my best friends and I want you to be happy for me, Even if it's fake I want you to respect me and Rafe.” The pogues all look at each other conflicted. 
 On one hand, in their eyes, Rafe was a rich cocky asshole that always excluded the pogues from events just because he could, But on the other hand, You talked about Rafe like he was the sun. You smiled like you would never stop and talked about how good he was to you. The pogues did notice Rafe hadn't bothered them in a while and has been okay when them showing up to his parties, He even congratulated John B and Sarah when they started dating which caught everyone off guard, They started to think that maybe Rafe was changing and you were the reason.
“Does He treat you right?” JJ asks. Out of all the pogues, JJ was the most protective of you. He cared about you like you were his family, You were the little sister he always wanted and he would never let anyone hurt you, especially a man. JJ and Rafe never liked each other but If he made you happy, JJ would be willing to tolerate him, Same as for Rafe. 
“Yes I promise JJ, He respects me, You dont need to worry about that.” You clarified. You knew JJ had a tenacity to interrogate every guy you talked to. JJ thought he knew everything there was to Know about Rafe Cameron, But now he wasnt so sure. 
“Y/N this is insane, But we love you and want you to be happy.” John B steps into the conversation. They all agreed. You smiled at them and jumped to hug the pogues, ‘Thank you thank you!’s Fell out of your mouth as you bounced up and down. 
“I'm serious though, If he ever does anything you let us know and we’ll deal with him.” JJ put his hand on your shoulder carefully not to touch your new glitter tattoo (That you and Rafe both secretly matched). He stared at you, expression serious and stern, You could only hug him. 
“You know he really does love you.” You heard Sarahs voice whisper in your ear. you turn to see her smiling at you, You just knew from then on , everything was okay.
A/N!: hiii sorry this took sooo long to post ive been getting writers block but im back now, Thanks for reading!
Requests
Taglist: @nowitsmissing
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dccomicsbracket · 3 months
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Batgirl (2000)
Perhaps my single favourite piece of writing in the comic book medium. This was my introduction to Cassandra Cain, and is the perfect place to get into her. Everyone should read Batgirl #19, and bask in the way it lays out the core of Cass' character with surgical precision. Puckett's Cass is fascinating: a fine balance of absolute confidence in her ability, crushing guilt about her past, a desperation for redemption and to see others redeem themselves, and a fundamental belief in the preservation of life. 1st batgirl on going, very good overall run, do it for Cass everyone its quite literally required reading for cass, babs, and steph. the way kelley puckett is able to explore cass’s character through her relationships with the other bats and the parallels between her and bruce is actually insane. theres so many little details in the visual story telling as well that just make the experience that much better. the fluidity and expressiveness of the art also adds on to the overall experience. it is literally DCs magnum opus Life changing series.
Young Justice (1998)
It's 6-8 fifteen year olds living in a cave, and their only adult supervision is a robot wind machine one of them graffiti-ed all over within the first five minutes of meeting him. The only two with anything even RESEMBLING normal childhoods are the demigod and the son of two billionaires (literally just some guy). They have an alien motorbike and at one point they save the world from aliens by playing baseball. Everyone in it is just so stupid all the time and I love that for them (god bless 🙏) Never has a comic quite that batshit and quite that sincere graced my presence I just love it and I enjoyed reading it
Blue Beetle (2006)
Just a good introduction to a character with a satisfying conclusion. I love you, Jaime, a guy who's just trying to do his best for his loved ones and his local community. I love you Khaji Da, scrungly lil dude speaking in glyphs. I love you, Brenda, and your complicated relationship with your aunt who adores you, but is also a crime lord. I love you Paco, a genuinely good friend. I love Jaime's family and the way they all adjust to Jaime being a superhero. I love the effort made to portray Jaime as a person with community and connections. i looove jaime sososo much he's such a fun protagonist and the developement of his character + his relationship w khaji da is sooo interesting and well written. i love seeing him bond with his little alien bug parasite !! all of the side characters are also so great like brenda and paco are so fun and la dama is suuuch an interesting character. jaime's family is also so lovely they clearly care abt jaime so much and its nice to see a kid superhero with parents who respect and also deeply care abt their kid. the art is also very fun overall its just a really stellar run Quite honestly one of the best written comic runs I've ever read, DC or otherwise. It flips so many standard comic book tropes on their heads and does it well. The main character is the epitome of just some guy and he is my favorite of all time. AMAZING characters. Fresh perspectives on comics tropes that are so overused it's hard to imagine comics without them. Everyone is worthy of respect and treated with dignity, even the villains. Khaji Da's character arc is amazing. And the adults make me laugh so much. Guy and Peacemaker as mentors who IMMEDIATELY recognize this kid is FAR more emotionally mature then they are, so they're not going to bother with that side of mentoring!
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sungbeam · 2 months
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007!ji changmin x f!reader
you're sent to montenegro to infiltrate a high-stakes poker game, but with the world hanging in the balance, it's a good thing m's sending her best employee along with you—agent 007, ji changmin.
▷ genre, warnings. f2l, james bond/007/spy au, action, suspense, pining(?), minimal angst, humor bc i'm me, violence, blood, death, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weaponry, mentions of corruption, swearing, kissing, near-death experiences, mentions of terrorism but not explicitly discussed, the ending is kinda cheesy im sorry it's late and i like making him yearn, barely proofread (dudes it's so late when im writing this)
▷ word count. 11.1k
▷ based on. casino royale (2006)
a/n: this is for @winterchimez ally's 007 files collab! pls check out the other fics that have been posted 😎 also, this is way lighter than the actual movie, so uhm, yeah!
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YOU KNEW FROM THE MOMENT you first stepped into your position as an agent of the Treasury, that Kenneth Kang would be a thorn in your side. Perhaps not even a thorn, but a massive pain in the neck, the back, the ass. He was a man with a helm of pomade for hair and an ego the size of Russia, who, for some odd reason, despised you.
It was funny… the last time you checked, an entity such as Russia wouldn't be so easily threatened by someone like yourself. But here was Kenneth Kang, continuing to email you passive aggressive correspondence as if he wasn't butthurt the director chose you for this task rather than him.
After all, only the best of the best were selected to assist MI6 with their assignments. The fate of the world hung in the balance.
You told Kenneth just that in your last (hopefully) email to him for the trip: The quarterly reports are still due on Monday, Kang. Remember that Director Song excused me from them because I'm off to go save the world—ta-ta! Or something to that effect.
It was unfortunate the government monitored everyone's emails or you would've signed off with something wildly hilarious like “Love (if pigs flew), Director Song's Favorite <3 (not you)”—that would stick it to him—
A clearing throat drew your attention away from your laptop so abruptly, you were glad you didn't get whiplash.
“This seat taken?” You didn't catch a clear glimpse of the man's face before he was already claiming the seat across from you. The voice was awfully familiar, and when you finally saw him, you understood why.
You nearly did a double take, but the surprise swiftly melted away like glaciers in the spring to something like warm amusement. “Ah, do I—uh—know you, sir?” You asked, gently folding your laptop closed so you can gesture to the teapot before you. “Tea?”
Ji Changmin leaned back in his chair, eyes darting from the view outside the train car window and back to you. He dragged his gaze up and down your form, the back of his knuckles pressed against his lips. It did nothing to hide his smile. “Tea would be lovely, thanks.”
You obliged, refilling your cup with the hot beverage and pouring a decent amount into the extra teacup and saucer on his half of the table.
The two of you were currently on a train to Montenegro. Less than 48 hours ago, you were summoned into your director's office, only for the head of MI6 (the elusive M) to join you. You were debriefed on a high stakes poker game being hosted by a man notoriously reputed for funding terrorist organizations around the globe. You were told that M would be sending her “best” along with you to be dealt into the game—you were never given the agent's name or identification number.
But now that you were nearly an hour's ride away from Montenegro, it seemed he finally decided to reveal himself.
“Are you sure you don't remember me, Miss?” He asked, eyebrows raised over the rim of his teacup. “I was so sure that I left a lasting impression on you the last time.”
You slowly raked your eyes over the sharp, dark blue suit he wore, the white dress shirt beneath opened up at the collar, his wrist fitted with a watch that glistened in the afternoon light filtering in through the window. He had cropped his hair since the last time you saw Agent 007, M's so-called “best.” That was about two years ago, when there was a joint-branch charity gala and the two of you shared a dance before he was called away. Before that, you reckoned it was likely your graduation from Cambridge.
Time flew, you supposed, and you'd both been busy.
The corner of your lips lifted as you took a ginger sip of your tea. “Well then, you'll have to do a better job this time. What brings you to Montenegro?”
“Ah, business. You know how it is.”
“A truly dull answer,” you remarked. He couldn't come up with better conversation? You expected more from the man who always prided himself on buttery smooth lines. Where was the fun in ‘business’? “No wonder you've got all of that on. You're dressed like you're about to go buy a company.”
“Could I buy your company?” He asked in jest, tilting his head to the side.
You set your teacup down and a smile flitted over your lips. “I don't think you'd ever have enough money in the world for that.”
He chuckled then and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, catching a droplet of tea clinging to it. “Challenge accepted.”
When the train pulled into the station at Montenegro, it was just about a quarter past two in the afternoon. You and Changmin stood up from your cozy two-seater table to prepare to disembark. You rifled through your laptop tote for your wallet, but before you could retrieve your money, Changmin was already dropping bills on the table.
“Is this yours?” He asked, placing a hand on the bag stowed above the seat. It was a duffle bag that ranged on the smaller size with enough room to store your toiletries, emergency items, and any other things you might have needed. You were informed that clothing and the like would be in your accommodations waiting for you—there must have been a strict dress code for this event.
You shouldered your purse. “Yes, I'm traveling light.”
“Same here.” He grabbed your bag for you, and the two of you were off, shuffling down the aisle toward the nearest exit. Light, indeed. He didn't seem to have any luggage on him, but you supposed an agent of his caliber was provided everything he needed at his accommodations.
The train station, at this hour, was rather busy. People bustled to and fro to get to their trains, the parking lot, the ticket booth, the works. Your instructions once you'd arrived in Montenegro were to get in touch with the agent who was assigned to this case, and that you already accomplished. Until now, that was about all you knew, barring the general mission at-hand.
“I assume you’ll be staying at the Hotel Splendide, as well?” You voiced to him as you walked by his side toward the valet at the front of the station. You never knew a train station to have a valet, but you supposed it made sense if there were luxury, long-haul train cars.
“Your assumption would be correct,” he said. “In fact, we’re sharing a room.” The reveal of this information nearly had you tripping over your own shoes, and you were sure you saw a ghost of a smile make it onto his lips. You narrowed your eyes at him as he carried onward—of course, the two of you were sharing a room. What cover did MI6 even come up with? Something incredibly original like a married couple, you’d bet. Or, god forbid, a man and his mistress. (The thought made you gag.)
Changmin made eye contact with the valet boy, his chin inclining toward him. “Afternoon. It should be under ‘Ji.’”
The boy traced his finger down the edge of his tablet screen and his eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah yes, Mr. Ji,” he said, grabbing a keychain from his station and tossing it over to Changmin, “your car was just delivered two minutes ago. Have a nice trip, sir.”
“Thank you.” A rolled up bill was exchanged so fast that you thought you’d imagined it, and Changmin was walking onward down the length of the curved curb toward a parked vehicle. You followed swiftly after him, and upon further inspection, realized that the vehicle he was striding towards was a sleek Aston Martin in a classy shade of silver. It looked like something straight out of Hollywood, the sight nearly making your knees buckle. It was enough to say that all thoughts of you sharing a room with Changmin flew out the Aston Martin’s window.
Changmin gave a laugh at your reaction, opening the passenger side door for you. “You look more excited to see this car than me, sweetheart.”
“Was I that obvious? She’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but grin back as you slipped into the smooth, leather seat. The interior was just as beautiful and sleek, with dark colored leather and a shiny center console. While you buckled yourself in, you heard Changmin deposit your bag in the backseat before rounding the car to take his place in the driver’s side.
“I can’t say I disagree,” he said, the door slamming. He retrieved a pair of aviator sunglasses from a compartment above the rearview mirror, donning them, then flashing you a dimpled smile. “Shall we?”
Changmin revved up the engine and pulled out of the train station's front lot onto the scenic road that would wind down the mountains to reach the portside where Hotel Splendide was located.
“I haven't seen you in two years, have you been well?” You piped up, now that the two of you were alone.
He hummed. “Ah, for the most part, yes—I’ve been alright.”
“Trotting the globe, I bet?”
“You'd win that bet, for sure,” he mused. He passed you a brief glance, turning his eyes back to the road. “And you?”
You mimicked the humming sound he'd made earlier. “I've been decent. Just work most days; you know how it is.”
He nodded his understanding. “Social life just as dead as uni?”
An incredulous sound flew out of your mouth, your hand swatting his arm to coax an impish smile from him. “I have friends!”
“Significant others then,” he offered.
You bristled in your seat and met his grin with a stink eye. “There are more important things than finding romance.”
“Still the same Yn as I remember,” he teased. “Now I know you're not an imposter.” A beat of silence, and then, “M must have been very pleased with your performance records to have approved of your director's choice. Not that I'm surprised; you've always been exceptional in your field.”
You turned your head to face the window on your side, barely hiding the pleased smile on your face from his compliment. It had taken a lot of hard work to get where you were, and you should've been proud of yourself. “I appreciate that. Though, I'm sure the fact that we know each other might have something to do with it, too.”
“I think that's just an added bonus,” he remarked optimistically. “You'll know how to keep me in check.” That was, literally speaking, exactly what your role here was. While Changmin was dealt into the game, you controlled the amount of money he was able to use or bet with. Because you were the trusted agent of the Treasury, you would be privy to the amount of money appropriate to use from the government's coffers.
“Who knew one partner project would lead to us saving the world together?” He added offhandedly with almost a nostalgic sort of whimsy.
“Are you ready to be a team player this time, though?” You asked, eyebrow raised. “The rumors say you enjoy flying solo.”
“I fly solo when it's dangerous,” he corrected. Which, you guessed, was most of the time in his line of work.
“So you're saying this mission isn't dangerous?”
“A poker game?” He laughed. “The only dangerous thing about it is gonna be how fast I'm going to win.”
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The Hotel Splendide was as splendid as its name suggested. The grand, white limestone facade was carved with arched windows and statues, sleek columns and balconies. This side faced out into the waterfront, giving all arriving patrons a beautiful view of the port.
Changmin directed his car into the cobblestone roundabout at the front of the hotel. When he brought the vehicle to a stop, a bellboy in a maroon colored uniform opened your car door for you and offered a hand to help you out.
“Thank you,” you murmured, rolling your neck and stretching your limbs from the hour-long car ride.
Changmin emerged from the driver's side with his keys in hand, speaking to another attendant about being careful with his vehicle. He rounded the car just as the bellboy grabbed your duffle from the backseat.
“Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. This way to the check-in counter please,” the bellboy said, gesturing toward the front door, framed by an amber-toned awning and crowned in a myriad of flags from around the world.
You felt Changmin's palm warm the small of your back as you clutched your laptop purse in your hands. “Of course, thank you.”
The hotel’s foyer was just as magnificent as its outside. A crystalline chandelier hung from the high-domed ceiling, painting the room in a luxurious champagne gold, while the marble floors were lined in a deep crimson velvet. The front desk was to your immediate left with a number of staff stationed behind it.
The woman you and Changmin went to greeted you both with a polite smile. “Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. May I have the name of your reservation, please?”
“Ji,” your friend answered, “James Ji.”
Your eyebrows flew to your hairline.
“Ah,” the woman said, “but of course, Mr. Ji. Yours and your assistant's suite has been prepared for your arrival.”
Assistant? While she readied the key cards for you, you met Changmin’s gaze with a number of questions in your eyes. He only answered with a helpless expression.
Assistant? As if.
For fear of jeopardizing the mission by correcting the cover MI6 so generously assigned you, you reluctantly kept your mouth shut.
The desk clerk pushed a pair of cards across the polished wood toward you and Changmin—key cards. “These are your keys for your stay in room 700. All amenities, such as room service and the spa, are included in the fees you paid while booking. Your luggage will be delivered to your room for you. Anything you might need may be addressed via the phone in your suite or here at the front desk.”
(Assistant? Did you look like a fucking assistant?)
Changmin collected the room keys and passed you one. “Excellent, thank you. Did any mail arrive for me?”
“Yes, sir. A small parcel was delivered directly to your suite, as well as several garment bags. You'll find them in your wardrobe. Is that all?”
With nothing else to be addressed, you and Changmin thanked the front desk attendant and you were shuttled toward the elevators at the end of the hall. It was a good thing the elevator carriage made a swift arrival, because as soon as the doors slid closed, you let your frustrations be known.
“Assistant?” You exclaimed, gesticulating frustratedly. “Out of all the cover options? That woman probably thinks I'm your mistress!”
“I didn't choose it,” Changmin said, raising his palms in surrender. Though, it was clear by his expression that he was at least amused by your reaction.
You rolled your eyes, then narrowed them and crossed your arms over your chest. “What if you were the assistant, hm? Why aren't I the rich lady with a handsome secretary I take on vacation with me?”
His grin was teasing as he leaned closer to you, your breath hitching for a split second. There was a brief moment where your senses were fully engulfed by the smell of his cologne and the way a lock of his hair curled over his forehead. “You think I'm handsome?”
As if the universe could feel the warmth rising to your cheeks, the elevator doors mercifully opened onto the seventh floor.
He leaned away, something self-satisfied playing on his mouth as he returned his hand to your back. “Okay,” he drawled, “say I'm your handsome assistant…”
“I'm never living that down, am I?” You groaned, already feeling the headache spike in your temples. Your eyes fluttered about the corridor you entered; it was just as beautiful as the lobby downstairs, but with a slightly moodier glow to the lights as if not to disturb any of the patrons on this floor should they wish for an escape from downstair's hustle and bustle.
“Imagine if Chanhee found out you'd said that.”
“Don't get me started on Chanhee.” Room 700 appeared in your sight, and you smacked your key card against the card reader before letting yourself into the room. As the lights flickered on, you asked Changmin from over your shoulder, “Have you heard from him recently, by the way?”
Chanhee was a mutual friend from your college days. While he was technically a closer friend to Changmin, you'd met Chanhee through Changmin after your partner project and grabbed dinner together every once in a while whenever Chanhee was in town.
You were already making a beeline to the bathroom when you heard the hotel room door close and lock behind Changmin. “Recently? Depends on your definition of ‘recently.’”
The sound of your sigh echoed as you absentmindedly fixed your hair in the reflection. Train hair wasn't as poor as airplane hair, that was for sure. “He misses you,” you said in a singsong tone.
“Is that right?” He chuckled. “I'll shoot him a text then.”
He appeared in the reflection behind you holding two black garment bags, one in each hand. He'd shed his suit jacket somewhere, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to expose his forearms. “These are ours for tonight,” he said to you, handing you the one with your name on it.
Ah, tonight. “Thanks,” you said, taking a peek inside to see what exactly was prepared for you. Your curiosity piqued at the sight of deep wine red fabric, but you didn't look any further for the time being.
“Are you ready for tonight?” He asked, stealing a glance at you as he brushed his hair back in the mirror.
At the proximity of tonight's events, you suddenly felt your heart rate climb. Before when this was only an assignment, the gravity of the situation hadn't fallen over you yet. But now that it was your current reality, it began to rush at you with the speed of an oncoming train.
You steeled your nerves. You were tapped to carry out this task for a reason. The only thing you had to do was be wary of Changmin's spending; he was doing the heavy lifting. Even if you were about to be in a room with a few dozen other dangerous people.
You swallowed, nodding. “Ready as I'll ever be.”
He pressed his lips together, his dimples appearing in his cheeks but not because of joy. There was a step forward, then another. “Hey,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, “I won't let anything bad happen to you or to anybody; that's what I'm here for.”
He draped his garment over his arm and leaned against the bathroom counter beside you. “If we both do our jobs right, we'll be fine. Do you know who our target is? Just so you're aware of who to look out for.”
You nodded, “Le Chiffre.” That was the name of the host of tonight's poker game. He was high on the MI6's most wanted list, and tonight was a critical effort to put a stop to his movements, as well as the credibility he had with his clients. You'd seen pictures of this man—the cold of his eyes and the pale scar that disabled one of his pupils—you were well aware of what he looked like.
“Good,” he murmured. “Then you stay far away from him, got it, sweetheart?”
“Got it.”
Though the gravity of the situation hung heavy in the room after that conversation, Changmin ordered the two of you room service before you needed to prepare for the poker game. You figured food in your stomach would keep you grounded and lessen the nerves trilling through you and making your extremities feel cold to the touch.
Dinner shared in the privacy of your hotel room with an old friend was pleasant. You both sat on the couch sectional next to each other, his arm laid casually over the back of where you sat, as you caught up and dined. There was something oddly warm in his eyes… you didn't know what it was that made him seem so clued into what you were saying, as if he was spellbound. You figured it must be the training he underwent; after all, if he couldn't just muscle his way to an answer, then seduction was also a powerful tool at his disposal.
You just wondered why it was seeping into his interaction with you. Perhaps it became second nature for him to be this way—to lean into every word you said, to brighten at the sound of your laugh, to mirror every smile. To make you feel like you were the only person in his world and that you were all that mattered.
By the time nine o'clock rolled around and you were in the bathroom preparing for the game, your nerves had calmed considerably.
The dress that MI6 provided you was a deep wine evening gown that hugged your upper body and cascaded down the length of your legs before it hung just above your feet. The satin was gathered and left to create a cowl at the neckline, and somebody had thought it was a fabulous idea to leave a high slit in one side all the way up to mid-thigh height. (One wrong move and you were screwed.)
It was as if a river of wine physically wrapped around you as a garment for the night.
Though you appreciated the beauty of it, it only served to make you realize that perhaps controlling Changmin's spending wasn't your only job tonight; your other purpose was to distract everyone else. You weren't sure how you felt about that.
A knock sounded at the bathroom door just as you were fitting on a pair of matching ruby earrings. “Yn?”
“Just a second,” you said. You pushed the earring backing into place and hustled over to open the door. “I'm just finishing… hey.”
Changmin had changed into an all-black suit, a classic piece of uniform that was tailored perfectly to his proportions. His eyes were hooded and dark as he drank you in like a glass of Pinot Noir.
A low whistle drifted out from his lips. “If I'm being honest, you might be a liability in this dress.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, turning back to return to the bathroom counter.
Changmin trailed after you, almost dumbfounded, like he'd forgotten why he'd knocked on the door in the first place.
You tried to suppress your smile as you handed him his comb. “See something you like?”
His eyes met yours in the mirror, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “I do.”
Your expression shuttered in the mirror having not expected that reply at all.
Changmin cleared his throat, stepping to your side to fix his hair with practiced grace. In no time, his appearance was complete, and he was heading out of the bathroom, his cologne lingering by you.
When you were satisfied, you turned off the bathroom light on your way out to meet Changmin in the main room. He was by the safe, fitting a fresh magazine into a silver pistol with skilled hands. He felt your gaze on the weapon and passed you a glance. “We can't carry weapons into the room,” he told you, “but it's a good idea to have one ready here.”
You bobbed your head in agreement, though you felt your shoulders tighten.
He locked up the safe before making his way toward you. “Do you know how to use one of these?” He asked.
You shook your head. “It was never in my job description,” you said quietly. “I hope you don't have to use it.”
There was a graveness to his gaze now. “I hope I don't have to either.” Because both of you knew, if it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate.
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The room where it happened was deep in the bowels of the hotel, somewhere below the casino floor and above the core of the earth. To get in, one was required an exclusive invitation, which was the item Changmin had received in the small parcel from earlier in the afternoon.
You and Changmin arrived on the scene arm in arm, your posture straight in an effort to come off as nonchalant. As you descended the velvet-lined stairs into the basement room, you were confronted by a pair of broad-shouldered bodyguards with body scanners in their hands. After retrieving Changmin's invitation, you were both scanned separately for security, before being granted entry.
The playing room was on the smaller side with a fully equipped bar on the furthest wall of the room. The centerpiece was an oval table, barred off with railings for spectators to lean on while the game was played. There were a sprinkling of others here, both players and their guests.
Your initial scan of the room, unsurprisingly, produced no familiar faces—but your arm tightened around Changmin's when you caught sight of the man of the hour. Le Chiffre stood on the opposite side of the room, nursing a coup glass of liquor as he spoke in low tones with another man. From this angle, you could see the cut of his one glassy eye and the angry scar that marred his face.
“Our four o'clock,” you muttered between your teeth to your counterpart.
Changmin glanced over out of his peripheral vision, nodding subtly. “How about a drink, sweetheart?” He asked you, his voice slightly louder than your own.
You gave a small smile, and he began to lead you over to the bar.
As the two of you moved, you couldn't shake the feeling of eyes trailing after you, something akin to spidersilk clinging to your limbs that you could never quite brush off. It was no secret that you were one of the few women in the room.
When you reached the bar, Changmin flagged the bartender down. “A vodka martini, please—shaken, not stirred—and a mint julep for the lady.”
“Right away, sir.”
You looked over at Changmin with an impressed purse of your lips. “You remembered,” you mused.
The corner of his lip tilted upward. “How could I forget?”
With your drinks served to you, you gently sipped on your mint julep. It wouldn't do you well to get drunk tonight; you just needed a little liquid courage.
From your side, Changmin stared out into the crowd, likely assessing his opponents in the room. He made a small noise of consideration that made you prompt him. He answered lowly, “You see the man to our nine o'clock?—”
You followed his instructions and casted a single glance that way. At the other end of the bar stood a man in a gray suit, nursing a rum and coke in his hands as he assessed the room for himself.
“—Lee Juyeon. CIA.”
Your eyebrows flicked upward. “Interesting. Are they after our man, too?”
“Good chance that they are,” he said and raised his glass to his lips. He swallowed the last of his drink and set the empty glass behind him, leaning the elbow closest to you against the bar behind him. “Know how to play poker?”
“I’m more of a Go Fish girl, actually.”
He sputtered a laugh, and you smiled into your glass. “You're kidding. Not even a little?”
“Go fish, Mr. Ji,” you said and gestured to him with your glass. “Do tell though, since your boss seems to have so much faith in you. What's the secret to winning poker?”
You hadn't even realized how close your faces were tilted toward each other until you registered the smell of his drink on his breath and the shine on his lips. For a plot second, you swore his eyes even dared a glance away from your own.
Neither of you backed away from the other and remained in the intimate gray space.
“The secret?” He parroted, cocking an eyebrow. He tugged at his bottom lip. “The secret is figuring out what everyone else's tells are. It's about bluffing and strategy. If you can figure out how to tell when a person is lying, then you're practically set.”
You hummed. “I see. So what's my tell?”
“Your tell?” His gaze on you was hot and heavy as his eyes devoured you slowly but surely for yet another instance tonight. You could no longer ignore the rapid hammering of your heart, its insistent palpitations threatening to expose you to the man you swore could already see right through you.
His lips pulled into a slow smile, the kind you couldn't decide if it really was a smile or a smirk. “That’s for me to know, and you to figure out.”
“You don't know then.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”
A hush fell over the room. You followed everyone's eyes up to the man who had summoned the room's attention. Le Chiffre stood atop the poker table's platform with a small laptop seated upon the table's edge.
“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the game,” he greeted coolly. “We will begin this evening's festivities with an introduction to our security protocols. This device—” he gestured to the computer, “—is fully secured to store and activate all of the night's betting money. Each player will enter a six-character code, unique to them, that will grant them access to the winning sum—should they win.”
A small murmur of laughter amongst the crowd; you didn't find it funny.
“We will begin with Mrs. Takeuchi.”
One by one, each of the players present tonight came forward to input a six-charactered passcode of their choosing. When Changmin was summoned forward, you watched as his expression became a careful, unreadable slate. He strode up toward the poker table, eyes never leaving Le Chiffre and Le Chiffre's never leaving Changmin. You could feel the tension in the room tighten, and Changmin confidently input his desired password.
When he pressed ENTER, you swore you could feel the fifteen million dollars being locked into the pot. Fifteen million was a shit ton of cash. The amount you were not willing to go beyond was twenty million. As long as Changmin played safe and played well, it wouldn't be a problem.
Not before long, the players were all summoned to the table. You sent Changmin off with a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder, and followed behind him to find a space at the railing to watch.
Changmin settled in the chair directly across from Le Chiffre.
The dealer passed out two cards to every player, each of whom hoarded a stack of chips and rectangular plaques that valued up to fifteen million. As the dealer revealed the four cards before him—two jokers, a king, and an ace—the game was on.
You weren't even sure what you were looking for, but the sinking feeling in your gut would not fade the entire game. You held onto your mint julep until it was drained, eyes trained on the cards lying face down in Changmin's hands as he watched Le Chiffre across from him like a hawk.
He was looking for his tell, you realized.
The match was tense. You couldn't pull your gaze away, for fear of missing some minute detail, even if each move made was technically quite large. In the beginning, however, it felt as though everyone was playing it safer, for fear of getting out too early.
The night was young, and it would do none of them any good if they lucked out of a pot of at least one hundred million.
You watched Changmin, who watched Le Chiffre. You noted the way Le Chiffre would occasionally bring his left hand up to his scarred eye… was that his tell?
It was nearing one hour when it was only Changmin and Le Chiffre who had yet to fold. The dealer called for Changmin to make his move, and you looked over to your counterpart as the gears turned and twisted in his mind.
“I'm all in,” he decided, and shifted his entire pile into the center, mounting up to some amount close to twelve million.
You pressed the backs of your knuckles to your lips in anticipation of Le Chiffre's move. The man did not cower, but rather, called his bet. He moved his pile of fourteen million to the center. All in.
“Gentlemen,” the dealer gestured for their cards to be revealed.
They flipped their cards into view—you could feel the scandal rocket through the crowd.
“A pair of jacks. Monsieur Le Chiffre wins. This marks the halfway point of the match; we will return in one hour to resume, with the big blind set at two hundred thousand.”
Everyone around the table, both players and spectators, began to dissipate to find something to distract them for the hour-long break.
Changmin's posture was taut as a bowstring as Le Chiffre pulled his mouth into a sly smirk across from him. “Ah, Mr. Ji. You must have interpreted my tell wrong. Off your game tonight, don't you think?”
A muscle feathered in the agent's jaw. “I wouldn't be so quick to boast,” he drawled. “The game's not over yet.”
You didn't know what to say, but you knew one thing was for certain—no matter what, you and Changmin could not let Le Chiffre leave tonight with the jackpot. And as Changmin departed the table with a crease between his brows but his head held high, you knew what was on his mind, as well.
“Need a drink?” You asked, as he met you where you stood.
Changmin shook his head. “No, I'm alright,” he said, glancing about. He nudged the back of your shoulder with his fingers, guiding you toward the exit. “Let's get out of this room for a moment though.”
You weren't going to argue with that decision, and the two of you linked arms and made your departure.
When the cool air in the lobby swept over you and all the tension in your body left for a brief moment of paradise. It was so stifling down in that room; you were almost thankful to be wearing this dress.
You and Changmin lingered at the top of the railing that looked down into the lobby from the second flood, heads close together. “What now?” You asked him.
“I need more money.”
“I can give you five million, but that's my limit, Changmin,” you told him firmly.
His brows crossed together. “Five million isn't enough to go toe to toe with a guy who just ended round one with thirty—”
“That's not my fault; this is policy.” You knew the world hung in the balance, but while that was his job, this was yours. You sighed. “Maybe I can contact someone about approving more, but right now, five million is our only option. Do we not have a plan B?”
Changmin's lips pressed into a line. “Plan B is hoping he does something fucking illegal in front of my face, and praying that reinforcements come in fast enough to take him away.”
Now it was your turn for your brows to crease. “Why do we have to wait for him to do something illegal? Don't we know he's a criminal?”
“We're onto him, yes, but there has been no tangible proof that he's a corrupt banker,” Changmin admitted tersely. He absentmindedly rubbed his jaw with his palm. “If we could just—”
“Ji.”
Both you and Changmin straightened. Coming toward you from down the hall was Lee Juyeon, the CIA agent Changmin had pointed out to you earlier.
You didn't fail to notice the way Changmin blocked you from Juyeon's view with his body. “Lee,” Changmin greeted back.
Juyeon nodded to you in hello with a warm smile, and you lifted your hand to wave. He seemed decent enough.
Changmin’s eyes narrowed as he shifted so he stood next to you now, an obvious arm slung around your waist. “I didn't know the CIA was on this.”
“I didn't know the MI6 was on this,” Juyeon fired back. He let out a sigh that sounded about as stressed as you were. “I wanted to propose a deal with you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, well—” Juyeon cupped the back of his neck with one hand. “I'm not the most adept poker player,” he confessed. If you remembered correctly, he nearly lost half his money throughout round one—then again, Changmin lost all of his. According to Le Chiffre, it was because he had read his tell incorrectly; you must have interpreted the wrong one, too. “And I figured that I'm not going to be making enough right moves in the second round to even stand a chance against Le Chiffre. You've got the balls to go up against him, and I know you're down a few bucks, so I wanted to bow out of the round and stake you instead.”
Both you and Changmin glanced at one another in surprise.
Juyeon was backing out… and wanted to stake Changmin? Stake, meaning to invest or sponsor him; to give Changmin funds.
Changmin's eyes narrowed. “And what would I do for you in return?”
“You would give the CIA Le Chiffre.”
What other choice did you and Changmin have? Five million was not enough to make a winning comeback; at least being sponsored would give Changmin enough cushion to make some more mistakes. The allyship between your governments was enough to make the CIA taking Le Chiffre in the end seem like a victory.
Changmin exhaled and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”
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The second round was no less tense than the first. Changmin entered with more determination and fury than before, and Le Chiffre was no short of amusement and arrogance.
After Juyeon made his official departure from the game, he came to stand by you to spectate and offer insights wherever he could. The game chugged on by for another half hour with bets being placed, drinks being sipped, and money being exchanged.
You watched Changmin reach for his glass again, only to pause. There was a moment where you didn't breathe, and you watched his hand retract up toward his shirt collar to loosen it.
“Something wrong, Mr. Ji?” Le Chiffre asked.
You squinted at him, disliking the sinking feeling that had returned to your gut.
“Break,” Changmin suddenly called out, as he stumbled out of his seat and pushed out of the room in a hurry.
Eyes widened, you bolted after him, leaving Juyeon to wonder what had happened to Changmin.
You called out to your partner as he stumbled into the elevator, and you crashed in after him. “Oh my—fuck. What the fuck happened?” You asked as Changmin toppled over into you, sweat dripping down his face and his skin growing more and more flushed.
You jammed the button for your floor in a hurry as you attempted to hold him upright. “God, you're heavy, man—”
“Poison,” he choked out, practically ripping his shirt collar open, as if it was constricting his breathing. He gasped for air and clung onto you like a lifeboat.
Panic seized you by the heart and squeezed hard. “Oh my god. Okay—uhm, okay. What do we do? Changmin, what do we do?”
The elevator arrived on the seventh floor, and you half dragged Changmin toward your room. “The—the antid—antidote—”
“The antidote! We have an antidote?” You didn't have time to question him as you retrieved your room card from within your dress and barged into the hotel suite.
You deposited Changmin onto the floor as quickly and carefully as you could, hands shaking as you helped to take his shirt off so he could breathe.
“Safe,” he gasped to you.
“The safe? Fuck, what's the code?” You asked, clambering to your feet and racing over to the black box in the wall.
You heard him choke out the four digits, and the safe swung open without ceremony. You rifled around the contents and retrieved an aluminum foil packet with a slim syringe inside. “Found it!” You cried and practically slid across the floor to get back to him.
You ripped the packet open as Changmin's breathing continued to shallow, his skin paling, and his body growing weaker. His left palm had landed somewhere on his thigh—inject here.
“Shit,” you swore, grimacing to yourself before stabbing the syringe into his leg.
As soon as the liquid was gone, all you could do was pray.
But the storm clouds were beginning to clear, and color slowly returned to Changmin's face. You sank back onto your heels, relief and adrenaline coursing through you.
“Fucking hell, that was a close—”
White hot pain flashed through you as something—someone—grabbed you by your hair and yanked. Your scream pierced through the silence, and it was nearly enough to wake the dead.
They were dragging you backward toward the door, and you reached up to claw at their hands, your skull feeling as if it was being pulled into a million directions while being set ablaze, all at once.
“Let—go!” You screeched, thrashing around. You couldn't see your captor, but they suddenly released their grip on you.
Relief was short-lived.
Your head whipped to the side as a shoe met your cheek. Stars danced in your vision, and you cried out in pain—and then you begged. You were certain Changmin was still recovering, hardly in a state to save you, and desperation began to claw itself into your heart.
Your body was hoisted up beneath your armpits and you squirmed, fighting for your life.
For a second, you were sure you heard Changmin call out your name.
You threw your elbow back into your attacker's face, then tried the back of your head—the sound of pain and bones cracking echoing in your eardrum.
“You bitch!” They roared, loosening their grip to feel their broken nose.
You were a mess as you landed on the ground. A gleam of silver caught your eye. The gun.
Adrenaline seized you and you made a mad dash for the table where the gun was stowed beneath.
Your opponent caught your ankle and dragged you back down to earth. There was no time to mourn over bruised knees and limbs, and you kicked your heels out behind you in a blind fury, desperate to get away.
“Yn—”
“Please,” you screamed, begged. Whoever that was—you just wanted this to end. Fear coursed through you as your body began moving backwards and was dragged back to the door.
You dug your fingers against the polished ground, unsuccessfully gaining purchase. You clutched at a chair leg and dragged it along with you, and felt the hand around your ankle tighten—
With all your strength, you took the chair and heaved it back toward your captor. He let out a garbled swear, only agitated by your continued resistance. The hand around your ankle disappeared and you took it as an opportunity to get away.
“Not so fast.”
Your body hit the ground, the back of your head making purchase against stone. This time, you saw your assailant—he was one of the guards from earlier, likely working under Le Chiffre's orders. Blood dribbled down his lower face, courtesy of your retaliation.
“I should just kill you here and now,” he growled and enclosed his meaty hands around your neck. “Won't make a difference.”
You struggled against him, but to no avail. Your windpipe was being crushed and your vision blurred.
You thrashed and scratched and kicked—this was the end. Oh god, was this the end?—
A shot rang out.
Air slowly began seeping into your airway and you hacked a cough around the hands that had fallen away from your throat.
The dead body above you was heavy and sticky, and the smell of iron permeated your nose like a nightmare. You didn't even realize your cheeks were damp until you blinked and tears filled your eyes.
You nearly died just then.
With a suppressed sob, you shoved the dead body off you with all of your remaining strength.
There, by the table, was Changmin and the smoking gun in his hand. He still looked only half conscious, but he'd managed to get himself to sit up with pure willpower, enough to reach the gun stashed beneath the table, and to aim and fire a shot.
The room was quiet for a few moments, other than the persistent ringing in your ears.
Then you let yourself cry—it shook through your body and shoulders in violent sobs.
Changmin's chest clenched painfully at the sound, and the gun clattered out of his hand so he could crawl his way over to you. His hair, his face, his clothes were all dampened in sweat and the empty syringe laid abandoned on the floor. He made it over to where you were, the red of your dress mixed with the blood of a dead man, and held your body close to his.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered against your hair, lips pressed against your crown. “You’re okay; we're okay now,” he promised.
With his strength slowly returning to him, Changmin sat himself upright and let your body lean against him. You grappled onto him so tightly, as if he might slip out of your grasp.
It was almost thirty minutes later that you and Changmin returned to the poker game. With some gentle coaxing, he got you into the shower to wash the blood away, but you couldn't get the icky feeling clinging to you. He'd been gentle, though, letting you sit beneath the stream in your dress as he got onto the shower floor with you to run the water and soap through your hair.
In his hold, he rocked you gently through the tremors. “No one's gonna hurt you anymore, sweetheart,” he rasped. Never again, not if he could help it.
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You'd never seen him like that—all the tenderness in his gaze out in the open.
And you'd only seen it when you glanced up at him once; the rest of the time, you tucked your chin to your knees, staring at a tile.
Unnerved but still alive, you entered the room with another clean dress, and Changmin with another clean set of clothes. You returned to your place beside Juyeon, and Changmin went back to the table to face Le Chiffre.
Le Chiffre, however, looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His eyes had widened just a millimeter, but it was enough.
Changmin dragged up the sleeves of his dress shirt, a predatorial-like gleam in his eyes. You almost killed me. Even worse, you dared to lay a dirty hand on her. “Sorry about that,” he drawled, gaze lifting to meet Le Chiffre's, “seemed that last hand nearly killed me.”
His opponent swallowed.
The game resumed.
With the final phase in play, the dealer announced that there could be no more buy-ins. Juyeon had fetched you a drink, which you were most grateful for, and Changmin avoided all beverages for the remainder of the game.
“Everything alright?” Juyeon asked you quietly as you chugged your drink.
“Perfectly.” You handed the drink off to a waiter nearby and smiled tightly. “We were just strategizing on how to murder this game.” You hoped he didn't hear the tremor in your voice.
As the final round approached, each of the four finalists that were left alive were asked to make their bets. Each player slowly, but surely, slid all of their remaining chips into the center.
Everyone was all in.
“Reveal your cards, if you please.”
One by one, the cards in each player's hand was turned. The room held its collective breath as Le Chiffre revealed an ace and a six—a fuller house, with three aces and two sixes.
All that was left were Changmin's.
With little more than an arched brow, he slid his cards apart: a five and seven, both of which were spades. When joined together with the rest, they made—
“A straight flush,” announced the dealer. “Monsieur Ji wins the game.”
Cheers and applause rang out throughout the room as the game finally came to a close. Relief soared through you, and you shook hands with Juyeon at Changmin's success. Perhaps twenty million had been spent, but it all meant that you had won back that money in full.
From your standpoint, you couldn't see Le Chiffre's reaction, but he didn't look pleased. He stormed out of the room only moments later.
Changmin was swift to join the two of you, his hand coming to lie on your shoulder. “We should go after him,” he said.
Juyeon nodded, expression sobering. “You're right.”
“I'm going with you,” you told him. Already anticipating his refusal, you shut him down with a look. Though you might have been shaken from the night's near-death experience, it only seemed to steel over your resolve to catch this bastard. “I'm safer with you; don't try to argue with me.”
He knew you were right—you saw the reluctant agreement in his eyes. He grunted, “Okay, but you're staying behind me the entire time and when I say run, you better run.”
You patted his chest and followed after Juyeon. “Of course.”
The three of you raced after Le Chiffre in the direction he disappeared. He'd gone up to the second floor via the grand staircase in the lobby, but neither you nor the other boys knew which direction he went from there. The second floor was damn near close to a labyrinth.
“We split up,” Changmin declared. “Me and Yn go one way and Juyeon takes the other.”
“Wait, Juyeon goes alone?” You butted in. “Le Chiffre is dangerous and desperate; that combination isn't good for anybody.”
“None of us have any weapons either,” Juyeon pointed out.
Changmin gestured to you. From beneath the skirt of your new dress, you withdrew the pistol from earlier out into the light. After what happened in your suite, the both of you thought it best to let security measures be damned and holster a gun to your inner thigh. And now, it was proving to be the right decision.
Juyeon deadpanned, amending, “I don't have a weapon.”
“Then you should go get one,” Changmin said smartly. You rolled your eyes at him.
“I—shit.” Juyeon huffed in frustration. “Goddamn it. You better hold your promise, Ji.”
“My word is gold,” Changmin swore as you passed him the pistol. “We'll find Le Chiffre; you call for backup.”
With that matter settled, you grabbed Changmin's hand and set off in one direction.
His fingers tightened around you as you stuck close behind him. The corridor was hauntingly quiet with not a soul around. You and Changmin trudged onward and kept your eyes and ears open for anybody hiding behind a corner or waiting to enact revenge on your poker victory tonight.
The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood erect, heart thundering loudly in your ears.
So loud, that you almost missed it.
You caught Changmin's eyes. Did you hear that?
There it was—it sounded like voices coming from a room further down the hall.
“—please, just a few more weeks, and I can get you your money back!”
A muffled response in return.
“NO! I swear, I'll do better! I have another i—”
You never heard the end of Le Chiffre's offer. There was only the sound of a metallic swish, followed by a dull weight hitting the ground. A body.
Your breath hitched as you and Changmin looked around wildly for a swift exit or cover. There was an emergency stairwell just a few doors down.
Changmin grabbed you and booked it.
Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed you against the open doorway, eyes flickering somewhere behind you to watch the door the voices had come from.
“Do you trust me?” He asked, eyes furiously searching your own.
You didn't have to think about it. “Yes.”
Just as a door opened in the hallway, Changmin cupped your jaw with his hand, braced himself against the doorway with the other, and kissed you.
Your eyes fluttered closed upon immediate impact and you felt your heart leap into your throat. His lips moved gently against your own, as if afraid of breaking you, and his hand moved down from your jaw to wrap around your waist to pull you flush against him.
One moment you were melting into his embrace, and the next, he was shoving you behind the other side of the doorway for cover.
A war cry rang out—not Changmin, you realized—as a body blurred past you and was thrown into the stairwell's metal railing. Your soul nearly left your body, head turning in time to throw yourself out of the way of the incoming bodies.
Changmin brawled and grappled on the floor with a second man, a silver machete glistening in the dim light, only a few centimeters from his throat. The first man was slowly beginning to stand up, and your eyes tracked where Changmin's gun had skidded to the floor.
You swiped the gun up just as Changmin wrestled his opponent off him.
With adrenaline powering through you, you smashed the butt of the gun against the back of the man's skull. He crumpled to the cement—unconscious.
“Here,” you breathed, helping Changmin to his feet and shoving the gun into his hand.
He shook his dizziness away, eyes widened on something behind you. “YN, DUCK!”
You swore, and dropped to the ground, narrowly missing the arc of the first man's machete attempting to remove the head from your shoulders.
You dove down the first set of stairs to get out of the way of the fight, your knees and hands scraping against the cement and bruising.
The man with the machete attacked Changmin with reckless abandon, swinging his blade and striking the railing to make sparks fly. Changmin had no opening to use his firearm and—oh shit. They were coming this way.
“Yn, you better be fucking running.”
He didn't need to tell you twice. You tumbled down more stairs, ditching your heels as you went. You would be useless in this fight, so your best action would be to get the fuck out of the way.
Changmin's breath flew out of his chest as he hit the wall hard, then stuck his hands out in time to stop the assassin from impaling his head on the sword. Changmin drove his knee into his stomach, then threw him across the stairs to the opposite landing.
The fight clambered on down the spiral stairwell, metal clashing against metal, and bone and flesh grinding against stone. Changmin gritted his teeth as he fumbled backwards down the stairs, hitting the opposing wall with even more momentum.
He ducked—and missed another swing; and another; and another.
There was a kick to his gut, and his body went flying. His assailant took a leaping start and charged. Changmin grabbed at his hands again, desperately attempting to wrestle the machete away.
The weapon went sailing; that was his opening.
With pure adrenaline, Changmin fisted the man's shirt and flung him over whatever railing was left. You cursed as his body hit the basement floor with a thump.
Changmin tackled him as he attempted to climb to his feet. With the violent thrashing, Changmin ended up beneath him, his arm wrapped tightly around his opponent's neck, and he squeezed.
The man's arm flopped about, desperately reaching for the gun that scattered onto the floor from all the ruckus. If he could just reach it—
You lunged for the gun, tripping as the man clawed at your ankle to throw you off. You shrieked, swinging the barrel at his hand to knock it away.
When you finally managed to scramble backward, you watched the light fade in the assassin's eyes.
As soon as the man slumped in death, Changmin loosened his grip and crawled out from beneath the body.
You clambered over to him and helped him to his feet, his joints and muscles screaming as he attempted to straighten. He groaned, white-knuckling the railing, “Fucking hell.”
“Are you okay? Holy shit, Changmin,” you said, wrapping your arms around him to hold him up. There had been too many close calls there.
You passed a glance over at the corpse lying on the floor about a meter away from you. A shudder rippled down your spine, and you felt Changmin's hand on your forearm, like he knew.
From up above, you heard the sound of the stairwell door opening. The two of you peered straight upwards as a familiar face peered over the landing.
“Le Chiffre's dead,” said Juyeon. In his hand was a pistol; it seemed he finally retrieved his firearm.
“No shit,” you and Changmin replied simultaneously, chests heaving up and down in laborious panting.
Juyeon blinked, squinting his eyes to take in your appearances. “What the fuck happened to you guys?”
“Careful,” you called up to him, “that guy isn't dead.”
Juyeon jolted and he considered the body at his feet with new awareness.
You threw one of Changmin's arms around you to begin the ascent back up. “Can you—fuck. Is that yours?” You swore for the thousandth time tonight as you peered over at the growing dark splotch of red seeping through Changmin's shirt.
He hung his head as strength rapidly bled out of him with his own life force, and you carefully laid Changmin down on the ground.
“Juyeon!” You called out. “Juyeon, help!”
You heard rapid footsteps in the distance, but it faded to background noise as you ripped open Changmin's shirt and came face to face with the vicious knife wound in his abdomen. “Oh my god,” you whispered. God, there was so much blood.
“Cover the wound, Yn,” Juyeon said to you as he leapt down the final steps. “Fuck, this looks bad.”
“He must not have begun to feel it until the adrenaline was over,” you reasoned in a desperate attempt to keep your head on straight. Per Juyeon's instructions, you pressed your palms over the wound, bile rising in your throat from all the blood. “Changmin—Changmin, come on. Stay with me.”
He murmured something you couldn't hear, and you leaned your ear down over his lips. “Come on, talk to me, love. Tell me something, anything.”
His voice came out, barely there. “I'm… I'm glad I got—I got to see you again.”
And he would see you again. That was a promise you made to yourself, and to him, as Juyeon called for his reinforcements and you clung onto Ji Changmin's life with your own.
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When Changmin came to, it was bright enough to blind him. There was a fuckass beam of sunlight shining right into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, wrinkling his face into a grimace. There was a violent throbbing in his abdominal area that ached when he attempted to roll over or sit up.
Was he dead?
“You're not dead.”
His body immediately relaxed into the sheets he was settled in. When his eyes grew accustomed to the god awful amount of light in the room, he was met by the sight of your face, silhouetted against the sun, and beautiful. “Are you sure? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you're an angel.”
Your palm came over to rest against his forehead, and his eyes fluttered shut. “You must still have that fever,” you teased.
When you both shared a laugh, he opened his eyes again.
It seemed he was in a hospital room—well, something akin to that. It looked more like a small bedroom was transformed into one, and he laid on the bed with a heart rate monitor hooked up to him on the side. You perched on the edge of his bed with a cardigan draped over your frame, and something soft in your eyes.
No, he was definitely in heaven. Maybe he didn't die, but he was in heaven.
Your expression sobered as your hand drifted down to caress the side of his face. “You lost a lot of blood,” you whispered. “I was really worried about you.”
Changmin brought his hand up to gently take your wrist and turn your palm inward, his lips meeting your hand in a butterfly kiss. “Hey, sweetheart. I'm alright now, see?” He intertwined your fingers, missing the feeling of how they felt interlocked in the hotel hallway.
The hotel hallway—the fight—Le Chiffre—the kiss. His lips seared at the memory, and he fought the urge to touch his lips at the phantom sensation.
“What happened?” He croaked out instead, gazing up at you. His heart tugged against its confines when he made out the shape of dark purple smudged against your cheekbone. It was the bruise forming from the guard who came after you, and it made Changmin ache to see.
Hurt, you'd been so hurt.
You shifted your body so you could tuck your feet onto the bed, too. “Juyeon came with reinforcements and we got you out of there as soon as possible. One of Le Chiffre's clients killed him—the guys you fought with in the stairwell. Apparently he'd used their money to buy into the game, and because he wasn't able to win, they killed him.”
Changmin stared up at the eggshell-colored ceiling. He supposed that would have been the tangible evidence needed to convict Le Chiffre, but his client was faster at acting as judge, jury, and executioner.
“M's on her way to meet with you,” you continued, your thumb gently tracing dizzying circles onto the back of his hand.
“To be expected,” he chuckled. He glanced back up at you. “How are you? Were you hurt at all?”
You shook your head. “No, nothing to your extent. There were a few scratches and bruises, but nothing time won't heal.”
“And everything else?” Your mental state, especially after all you went through, could not have been in a terrific place. If he could have prevented you from experiencing any of what happened, he would do it in a heartbeat.
The pure fear that speared through his chest when he thought you were about to die…
He had long since figured out that what he felt for you was not simply platonic. It was more—he yearned for more. Seeing you again after so long just made it worse.
You made a noncommittal noise. “I'll… I'll be alright.”
For a moment, the room filled with only silence and the white noise from the heart rate monitor. You suddenly perked up at something, and turned to reach over to grab an item from the side table. Changmin recognized the small laptop device from the poker game now seated on your lap.
“The money pit from the game was stored in escrow in a Swiss bank. A representative from the bank delivered this to us,” you explained, showing him the screen. It left room for a passcode to be filled in. “To the victor go the spoils, love.”
The nickname made him shudder and he forced himself into an upright position.
“Changmin—”
“I got it,” he countered and stubbornly gritted his teeth through the pain until he was seated against the headboard next to you. He clutched his injury, head knocked back against the wood. “Well? Wanna guess the password?”
You lifted your brows in amusement. “Do you know how many six letter combinations exist out there? For all I know, it was a random keyboard smash.”
He chuckled lowly, leaning his chin against your shoulder. “S.”
We're really doing this? You seemed to ask with the expression on your face. You humored him, though, pressing down on the S key.
“W.”
The letters that followed amounted to S-W-T-H-R-T. You were quiet for a second as you stared at the final combination; you didn't want to press the enter key just yet.
Changmin murmured against your shoulder. “I'm not one for corny messages, but that's a 'sweetheart’ if I've ever seen one.”
You were still quiet as you pressed enter and unlocked the winner's pot. There was no special celebration, no balloons or confetti—just a solid number with too many zeroes for your little heart to handle. Perhaps, in the end, there really was no amount of money in the world that could buy your company. Not if you freely gave it, at least.
Changmin felt his chest lurch. “Yn, sweetheart, say something.” He leaned off your shoulder so you could turn your body to face him, the laptop returning to its place on the side table.
“What should I say?” You asked, your fingers playing with his own in your two hands.
“I'm sorry if the kiss was too much.”
You faltered for a second. “It, uhm, it wasn't too much. I actually thought that it was nice.”
“You did?” He hated the way hope made him feel, how it made his heart sprout wings—maybe he was dead.
A small smile crawled onto your lips and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Maybe I did.” You raised a hand to the side of your face, an embarrassed groan falling out of your mouth. “God, I feel like a teenager with a crush again.”
“Giddy?”
“Pathetic,” you teased. You leaned your head against the headboard again as you looked over at him with the most beautiful gleam in your eyes he had ever seen.
He never understood the romanticizing of someone's eyes—what else had he ever discerned but fear or boredom? But he could hear your laugh just by seeing your smile reach your eyes, and he could feel the warmth spreading in his chest and making electricity zip down his spine from the tenderness in your irises.
He swallowed hard. “If you feel pathetic, then I am literally chopped liver,” he said. A surge of courage, the kind that was a trademark of his reputation, propelled his next words: “I'd like to kiss you again.”
Your eyes darted to his lips and he clung onto that detail as if he were hanging by a thread. “Because you saved the world, Agent 007, you can kiss the girl,” you mused.
You leaned over him slightly and cupped the back of his head, mouth meeting his own in a familiar dance. Even with his injury, he pushed back to meet you, and ignored the throbbing in his stomach, so he could haul you closer, over, around him. Anything to get you pressed up against him.
Real—you were real, and you were alive, and so was he.
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a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! omg that permanent taglist looks SCARY 😭😭😭
tbz m.list
permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @deobi0412 @sunramzi @honeyrecommends @synthwxve @dearly-somber @empire-x @kflixnet
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zeltqz · 11 months
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𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 [𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐃] THREE
pairing. ex!ran x fem!reader
word count. 5.2k
series synopsis. bonten is forming and in the midst of it all, you find yourself caught in the sticky webs of your ex boyfriend and current bonten executive, haitani ran.
a/n: a lil flashback in this chapter, not too much going on..yet
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JANUARY 2006
Shion burst through the living room door, storming over to Ran and waving his phone in his face. “You wanna explain why (Name) just called me up crying because of you?”
“What the fuck are you talking about,” Ran asked through a thick exhale, his thumb idly moving on the joystick of his controller as he picked a location. 
Shion rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m talking about. Which is literally why I came here to ask why the fuck you made her cry?”
“I didn’t make anybody cry.”
“Yes you did.”
Rindou glanced over at Shion and fiddled with his controller, amused by the difference in attitudes between both boys. Shion looked like he was two seconds away from throwing his cracked phone at Ran’s face, but was hesitant on doing so because everybody knows how that fight would play out, and Ran looked like it was a regular Sunday afternoon, filled with nothing but playing video games with his brother and snacks.
“I didn’t make anyone cry,” Ran repeated and Shion groaned, rubbing his temples as he remembered how stupid Ran could be and how he lacked in the department of taking accountability. “She called me up and asked if I heard from you and I said yeah, why, then she told me “oh because he hasn’t answered my texts in days so I wanted to check in”, now I come in here expecting to find you dead or something instead you’re just playing fucking video games!”
Ran honestly stopped listening around three words in and successfully chose a location, and a character. Grinning, he nodded over at Rindou as he started to pick his own character. 
“Hello?????!” Shion clapped to get Ran’s attention. “Ignoring me doesn’t change anything. In fact, it proves to me that you’re guilty.”
“Dude. What do you want from me?” Ran looked up at Shion, leaning against the back of the leather couch. “You wanted me to stay away from her so that’s what I’m doing. Now you’re mad that I’m staying away from her?”
“Staying away from her doesn’t mean ghosting her. At the very least let her down easy—”
“Shion,” Rindou started, eyes focused on the tv screen. “You sound so whiny right now. Either sit down and shut the fuck up, or get out. You’re ruining my focus and so help me God if I lose to Ran tonight I’ll break every rib in your body.”
“Calm down Rinnie, save that anger and take it up with your therapist.”
Rindou groaned loudly, letting his head roll back against the couch. “I already told you Ran, I’m not seeing a therapist.”
Shion hummed in disagreement. “I think you should. You’ve just about threatened to break every bone in my body this week alone.” Ran snorted and Shion whipped his head to look at him. “Don’t think I’m finished with you yet. I was against this whole relationship with her in the first place, so just apologise to her and let her down easy.”
“Why?” Rindou asked, putting his controller down on his lap to look up at Shion.
His eyebrows pinched in confusion. “Why…what?”
“Why were you against the relationship?”
“B—because,” Shion cursed himself for stammering, also cursed the way Ran raised his eyebrows, probably the first shred of interest he’s shown in the conversation. 
“Because you love her?” Rindou asked, not looking away from the tv but was far too aware of the way Shion froze in place. Seconds passed as the two brothers waited for a response.
“Because she’s my friend…” Shion started slowly, hoping the message goes through their heads. 
“So?”
“And I don’t want her to get hurt by him.”
“Who said I’d hurt her?” Ran asked, intrigued.
“Your track record of dating speaks otherwise, Ran.” Ran smirked and Shion scowled deeper, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s not something to be proud of.”
“You only say that because you’re a virgin.”
“I’m not.”
“Yeah, sure whatever.” Ran turned back to the tv and nudged Rindou. “Ready?”
The game started and if their attention spans were already shit before, it was worse now. 
“Ran. Just promise me you’ll end things with her nicely…Last thing I want is her calling me up crying again.”
“Yeah yeah, you got it,” Ran responded with a crooked smile. 
It was probably the most non-committal answer Shion ever heard, if he was honest, but was probably the only answer he was gonna get so with that, he left the house. After winning the next three rounds of Mario Kart, Rindou ended up rage quitting and stalking off to the gym with Kakucho to take his anger out on some punching bags. Meanwhile Ran stalked up to his room, taking his daily nap. He woke around 11pm, almost hitting midnight and pulled out his phone.  
He scrolled past all his messages until he saw yours, all unopened, and felt his heart twitch with guilt for a second as the number of messages over the course of the week started to decrease once you realised he was ignoring you. 
He glanced over at the clock once more. You had a tendency of sleeping through the day, awake at night, so taking his chances, he sent you a text.
Your phone pinged as you were washing the dishes, scrubbing the leftover stains from your mother’s wine glasses, a result of her addiction. Rinsing the soap from your hands, you dried them with a paper towel and grabbed your phone, almost freezing when you saw the contact name.
New Message: Ran (¬_¬ )
You up?
You almost got excited, a smile twitching on your face until you remembered the week of radio silence and the barrage of confusing emotions you felt. You should hate him. In fact right now your fingers should be moving to delete his contact, but instead they hover over his text message on your lock-screen. Grumbling, you deleted yet another poorly formed response and called him instead. “What do you want?”
“Easy with the hostility. I wanted to check on you.”
“Oh really? Where was this energy, I dunno. A fucking week ago?!” you barked, leaving the dishes half washed as you stomped up to your room.
“Missed you.”
You blinked at your screen and nearly forgot how to breathe, too blinded with rage. “Are—are you fuckingkidding me?” you rushed out, dumfounded.
“Yeah, I know I fucked up badly,” he sighed on the end of the line and you moved to sit on your bed, face softening a bit with how tired he sounded. 
“Is everything okay?”
“Can I see you?” He ignored your question and got straight to business. You had half a mind to turn him down until he said, “Please?” 
You were so weak minded, crumbling the second you heard him beg for you. Perhaps it was an ego trip, having someone like Haitani Ran want you that badly. The next thing you knew, your back was arching as Ran’s hands trailed down your body. Pulling his face from your neck, you blindly searched for his mouth, biting his lower lip as he groaned, settling on top of you.
Your arms looped themselves around his neck, moaning in soft pants as his fingers drained downwards, dancing lightly down the line of your stomach and tugged your shorts off your body. The moment they were off, he spread open your legs and pulled away from the kiss.
You sighed happily when his lips trailed down your body, searing burning kisses on your skin. Closing your eyes helped to heighten the senses, guessing where you’d feel his lips next. Your breathing picked up pace as his hands brushed your bare thighs and it took everything in you to resist grinding against his hand as he explored every inch of your body.
The tips of his fingers slipped under your panties, drawing closer to your throbbing clit. He teased your wet slit, circling your finger around your hole, spreading your juices all over your pussy with a low groan. “You’re so fucking wet.”
Your moan hitched in your throat and you bit down to silence it. Not liking that, he looked up at you. “Lemme hear you,” he dipped his finger in slowly, watching your mouth fall open in please, “c’mon, louder.”
“Please,” you moaned, begging him to continue playing with you. “I need it, please. You owe me.”
“I owe you, huh?” He gave you a mischievous grin, inching closer to your face as he pushed more slick from your thighs into your fluttering hole. He was so achingly close you could see every single lash lining his eyes, his lips just barely hovering over yours. 
His fingers sped up, twisting his fingers and using his thumb to rub at your swollen clit with precision that felt torturous. It was getting harder to control your moans, uncaring of how loud you were getting as you rocked against his hand, pussy on fire. 
“Fucking love your body,” he sounded drunk, burying his face between your breasts. His tongue flicked against your nipple before sucking down, your back arching off the sheets.
“I—I’m still mad at you,” you cursed under your breath, the indignation in your voice wavering, turning to breathless moans as he continued fucking you open with his fingers.
He left your chest, kissing up to your lips to suck the anger and frustration away and replaced it with lust. “I’m sorry baby,” he hummed, biting your lower lip. “You forgive me?”
“No,” you tried sounding serious but your face screwed up as he sped up his fingers. He licked his lips before kissing you again, trying to change your mind but you pulled away with a frown. “Y—you can’t just expect me to forgive you that easily.”
He mulled it over for a moment, glancing at your face as you breathed heavily, trying your hardest to fix your face into a convincing scowl. His fingers pulled out and you were about to protest before he shushed you. “I’m going to fuck you till you forgive me.”
Your face twisted in confusion as he started unbuckling his pants. “W—wait. You can’t just—” you paused, eyes dropping down to his cock hard in his hand.
“Can’t what?” He pulled out a condom from his pocket and you deadpanned at him. 
“Seriously? You just have those laying around?”
He smiled, laughing a little. “What? Gotta come prepared.” His hands moved to your legs, spreading you open and eyed your aching pussy, slick covering your inner thighs and bit back a groan. You watched him rip the condom open and thought how that small thing could fit over the length of his cock. It easily slipped down his shaft, stretching obscenely around the width of his shaft. 
When he’s wrapped and ready, he grabbed onto your legs, yelping as he tugged you closer and caged you with his arms. You both watched his cock press against your inner thigh, missing your pussy a couple times before sliding in, a soft sigh and groan escaping both of your lips. 
Your eyes fluttered shut, biting your lip as your head fell backwards against the pillow. 
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned wantonly, looking away from the sinful sight of his cock slowly disappearing inside you to look at your face. Your mouth was open in pleasure and he snagged the opportunity, kissing you senselessly.
“Faster.” 
He obliged, dipping his face into your neck, breaths puffing out against your skin as you cried out, nails digging into the blades of his shoulder, then onto his biceps, clutching desperately as your body began to jolt. “Jesus, Ran…!” He hit a spot that nearly had you screaming, his mouth quickly sealing against yours to silence you before your mother woke up. 
He was practically slamming into you at this point, pounding your body into the mattress and you could do nothing but whimper into his mouth and scratch deep red lines down the length of his arms. A hazy part of your mind thankful he was doing his best to silence you because the volume of your voice was far beyond your control at this point. 
“You forgive me yet,” he asked, pulling away when you tried to surge upwards for another kiss. 
You shook your head, keening when he gave another wicked slam of his hips that had you biting back your words. 
“Wrong answer.” Abruptly, he pulled out and flipped you over, rearranging your wobbly limbs until you were on all fours. He bent forward until his lips brushed your ears and the heat of his body made you inch backwards, desperate for even a crumb of his touch. He clicked his tongue and grabbed onto your hips, holding you in place as you cursed under your breath. “You forgive me yet?”
“Ran. Stop asking questions and fuck me,” you swore, testing how strong his grip was by attempting to wriggle your hips backwards. 
“Answer my question then I’ll fuck you right.”
You groaned into the pillow in protest, fighting back tears as you felt your pussy get wetter, fluttering around nothing. “But I don’t forgive you.”
“Then we’ll wait until you do.” 
Your clit throbbed again and you moaned when he nudged your legs apart, licking a stripe along your cunt. “Oh god, Ran.” His hum sent a vibration shooting through his tongue flicking at your entrance, kissing around your folds and the way his lips sealed around your clit had your stubbornness flying out the window.
“Oh.” You steadily rocked back against his face, and he eagerly buried his face into your pussy, the taste of you making his dick twitch between his legs. Your head dropped down, back arching and he held you up by the hips, keeping your ass in the air as he continued to indulge. “P—please Ran. I…I forgive you just fuck me please.”
Ran swiftly sat up, pressing one last kiss to your wet folds before lining his cock up to your entrance. “About fucking time.” His body was tense as he buried his cock back inside you with a groan. You bit down on the pillow, ignoring the wet spot you left behind as his big hand pulled you back down onto his cock, squeezing and grabbing at your ass. You barely had time to catch your breath as his hips snapped ruthlessly back and forth, shoving his cock deeper inside you with every thrust. Your legs gave out, back arching impossibly deeper as you were unable to hold yourself up. This new angle was downright sinful, had you feeling every vein of his cock rubbing against your walls, hands scrabbling uselessly at the sheets.
“Oh fuck I’m close,” he announced with a low groan, your stomach doing flips when you heard how shaky his breathing was. He pulled out, ripped the condom off and flipped you onto your back in record time, cumming on your stomach. 
While you were catching your breath, he bent down between your legs and licked along your pussy, teasing and sucking until you were coming undone, soaking the fingers he’d slid inside you.
Once your chest had stopped heaving, he pulled away, licking your taste from his lips. Your body was still shaking from the aftermath of the overstimulation, your arms eagerly wrapping around his body as he laid beside you, lifting you onto his chest and kissed your forehead.
“I don’t actually forgive you by the way,” you added after a moment of silence. “I just said that so you’d fuck me.”
Ran snorted and looked down at you. “That so?” It tickled when your fingers ran down his chest, tracing the swirls of his tattoo.
“Mhm.” You chewed the soft tissue of your cheek, waiting for his response. 
He pulled you up to reposition you on his lap as you laid your hands flat in his chest. “I know you don’t mean that.” He ran his hands down your hips and caressed them softly.
“I do,” you frowned.
He sat up slowly and you clung onto his shoulders to avoid slipping. He reached over and grabbed your phone, handing it to you. “Delete my number right now if you do.”
You looked down at your phone then back at his face. “Are you serious?”
He shrugged and nodded at the device. “Go on.”
As you contemplated whether or not this was a trap, he reattached his lips onto your neck, sucking and biting the skin, adding to the litany of marks he left previously. He was obviously doing this to cloud your judgement, and it was working. Your finger hovered over the delete contact button before you sighed, tossing the phone back onto the bed.
“I fucking knew it.” You could practically feel his devilish smile against your neck. You yanked his head from your neck, revealing the smile you pictured wide on his face.
“Shut up,” you said while frowning. He leaned forward, sucking deeply along your lips, eliciting a soft sigh from you as you melted into it.
“What’re you doing for your birthday,” he asked, pulling away for a moment. “It’s next week, right?”
“Um, not much. My friends wanted to throw me a party then Shion said he wanted to take me out afterwards.”
Ran scowled. “Do you like him?” he asked softly, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. 
“Who? Shion?” You readjusted yourself on his lap to get a better look at his face. He nodded. “No. No, I don’t. He’s my friend. I don’t see him as anything else.”
There was nothing going on between you and Shion. Being with Shion felt weird and you never thought of him that way. Besides, when you grew up with him, you saw the worst of him, from the time he shaved a circle in the middle of his head as a dare to those snot nosed crying nights when he’d throw a tantrum you couldn’t stay the night. You thought your words were enough to reassure him but Ran still looked unconvinced. Your brain fought to think of something to say but when you fell short, you resulted in pushing your chest up against him, cupping his face in your hands and leaned forward to brush your nose against his.
“I promise, Ran. In fact…you’re the only one I have eyes for right now.” There it was. The inevitable confession. As your worried eyes searched his face for a response, he stayed silent. Your body warmed as his hands hugged tighter around your body and you took that, leaning in slowly and kissed him gently, slowly, until you could feel any doubts he had leaving his body. He kissed you back, tightening his grip on your sides possessively.
“Lemme take you out,” he broke away to speak. “The day after your birthday since your special day is all booked.”
“Yeah?” You smiled and nuzzled your nose against his. “And do what?”
“Whatever you want.” His hands rubbed up and down your naked back, making you feel warm and fuzzy. “Anything.”
You rested your head against his neck and hummed in thought, sending a vibration down his body. “Hmmm, I’ll think about it.” Your arms wrapped around his neck and for a moment he fought the urge to cuddle with you in bed. Being around you was so difficult, especially when he tried to not get attached to you, despising the idea of being soft. 
He unhooked your arms from his neck and you pulled away with a confused look on your face. “Is everything okay?” He looked distressed about something and you couldn’t stop the ugly feeling in your stomach from churning. 
“I gotta go, it’s late,” he told you, sliding out of bed to scoop his clothes up. 
“I mean…you can just sleep over?” You looked at him get changed, trying to hide your frown once he finished. The pout in your voice made a wave of guilt run through his body. He tucked your body under the covers as your bottom lip jutted out in protest of him leaving. 
He kissed your forehead. “I’ll text you next week. I promise.”
Present day, 2015
Rindou slammed the car door shut, startling Dona from the backseat. “Jesus, man. What the hell is up with you?”
Rindou grumbled something under his breath and started the car, impatiently drumming his fingers against the wheel as Ran took his time inside the house fixing his suit. 
“Hello? Why’re you ignoring me?” Dona waved her hand in his face. “He’s in there right? Or do we have to drive around the whole city tryna find him?”
“Oh he’s in there alright,” Rindou rasped, rubbing his temples. 
“You gonna update me on what happened or just sulk in the front seat like a baby.”
He leaned back in his chair and then turned to look at Dona. “If I tell you, you’d get mad.”
Dona’s eyes narrowed. “Why would I be mad?” Rindou stayed quiet, and her patience only grew thinner. “Rindou I will hit you if you don’t spit it out.”
“(Name)’s back.”
~*~
“Wait Ran.” You slipped off the bed, walking to the door before he could leave his room. “What was with Rindou’s reaction before?”
“Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you. He hates you.”
“I can see that,” you sighed, looking down at the floor for a couple moments before looking back at him. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing really.” Ran shrugged. “Just told him we broke up.”
“That’s all? I don’t see why he’d hate me for that.” You frowned, fighting back a pout as you crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s not like I broke up with him.”
“You know how he gets.” Ran looked at the way you chewed your lip nervously, a habit you always did when you were overthinking. “Come here,” he said, beckoning you closer. You followed suit, slipping between his arms and he pulled you in for a hug. He rested his chin against the top of your head as your arms snaked around his waist. “Stop overthinking stuff. Rin doesn’t hate you. He hates what you did.”
“What did I do though?” you asked quietly, tilting your head to look up at him. 
“You left without an explanation.”
“There was an explanation,” you defended yourself. “You know there was.”
“Exactly. I know. He didn’t.”
“Why didn’t you tell him then?” you groaned, looking curiously up at him. “I broke up with you, not him. I have no issues with Rindou.”
“It wasn’t his business,” he responded, the circles he was tracing on your back with his thumbs made you feel dizzy. “And I avoided talking about you. And he thought he’d get answers from you since I wasn’t telling him, then found out you left. So he was mad.”
A slight feeling of guilt pooled low in your stomach as you lowered your head to look at the ground. Reluctantly, you let go of the hug and stepped away from him. “I think you should go to that meeting now. I’ve been hogging too much of your time.”
“Alright baby.” He shrugged his jacket back on and opened the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Okay,” you muttered, moving back onto the bed as you watched him leave the room. The second the door shut, you moved to grab your bag and pulled out your phone. You weren’t expecting to see six missed calls from Shion, each call an hour apart, and another feeling of guilt passed through you. “I’m a piece of shit,” you muttered, hitting your forehead with the edge of your phone before turning it back off.
Shion was tomorrow’s problem. You could figure out what to say to him.
~*~
Meanwhile, back in the car, Dona shrieked. “What?! Why?!”
“How the fuck am I supposed to answer that?” Rindou grumbled in response as Ran entered the car door with a hefty sigh.
“Drive already.” He lazily gestured around the wheel with his hands.
“Uh excuse me? You don’t get to boss us around when you’re thirty minutes late to the meeting.” Dona said with a frown, her nose twitching when Ran just laughed under his breath. “Not even a little bit remorseful? Mikey is pissed.”
“Name a day of the week he's not pissed,” Ran responded, looking back at Dona who laughed, mumbling that’s true. 
~*~
"Look who finally decided to show up," Sanzu sneered as Ran entered the room.
"What, you missed my presence that bad?" Ran responded as he settled himself into the couch beside Kokonoi. Sanzu rolled his eyes, making Ran's grin grow wider.
"Finally," Mikey sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Is this important or what? Because if it's about my club's sales, then you could've just emailed that shit to me," Ran said in annoyance.
Mikey nodded, clearing his throat before sitting down in his chair. "It's about Naoto."
"Who the fuck is Naoto?" Takeomi said, raising an eyebrow.
"Take a fucking guess," Mikey said sharply, causing everyone in the room to fall silent, except for Ran who yawned loudly.
"What did he do?"
"He's onto us again." Mikey pointed at Mochi. "You told me you had it handled. What's the fucking hold up?"
Mochi shrugged. "I did have it handled. He was off our back for weeks, no?"
"Weeks isn't shit," Sanzu retorted. "Can't we just kill him? He's like a scab. The more you pick at it, the more it bleeds."
"Sanzu, what the hell are you talking about?" Rindou grumbled from his seat, picking at the tips of the strands of hair falling over his face.
"I'm sayinggggg," Sanzu continued, "instead of burying information to get him off our tracks, we just bury him instead."
Mikey shook his head. "No. Bad idea."
"Why?!"
"Because," Mikey responded, saying no more. The group of men stared at him expectantly. When silence descended upon the room once more, Kakucho spoke up.
"Is this about Takemichi and all of them?"
Mikey slid his eyes over to Kakucho. "What?"
"You're hesitating on hurting Naoto because he's friends with Draken and Takemichi and all of them, no? If it were any other cop, you would've just killed them already. But we've been running around in circles with Naoto for almost a year now and nothings changed. I agree with Sanzu. We should just kill him."
"I said no," Mikey responded, harsher than before, effectively shutting Kakucho up. "If you have anything to say then say it."
"Nothing else, sir."
"Good." Mikey turned back over to look at Ran. "Naoto is onto you the most." When Ran raised an eyebrow, Mikey continued. "He found out one of the clubs you own and is getting his men to go undercover at your clubs, snooping around for shady business. Just wanted to tell you to watch out."
"He's not gonna find anything." Ran responded calmly, kicking his feet onto the table with a thud, ignoring Mikey's complaint to get his feet off the table. "He's an idiot if he thinks I'd do my business in broad daylight."
"Well regardless how confident you are, just watch out. If he finds anything, it won't take long before he finds other things."
"You got it." Ran pushed his chair back and stood up, stretching. "That all?"
Mikey nodded. By the time Ran made it back home, you were fast asleep on his bed, phone unlocked in your hand. He grabbed your phone and slid his finger across the screen, pausing briefly at your message history. Your phone was practically empty. It was sad to look at. You stirred in your sleep, taking notice of his presence. "Hey," you murmured sleepily, peeking a single eye open.
"Hey sleepyhead." He paused, putting your phone back down. "Go back to sleep."
"But I want to talk to you."
"About what?" He sat on the bed, watching you closely. "Haven't you been talking enough today? You need sleep."
"I don't," you grumbled, curling up against his arm. "I need to talk to Shion," you murmured, half asleep.
"Why do you wanna talk to Shion?" He questioned, sounding more confused than anything.
"Because I blew him off," you spoke without thinking, yawning with each passing word. "He's probably angry at me. Maybe I'll make him feel better by apologising."
"You blew him off? How so?"
"I'm such an asshole," you moaned softly, slouching further into his side. He ran his hand down your back in a soothing motion. "I haven't called or texted him yet. I just...walked out without saying anything. That must've hurt him. I can't believe I did that."
"Yeah, well..." He trailed off, patting the top of your head, not knowing what else to say. "To be honest, I have no clue what you're talking about right now. It's cute you still talk in your sleep though."
You sighed deeply, closing your eyes again, mumbling something incoherent under your breath and drifted back to sleep.
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grison-in-space · 3 months
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Reading Men Who Hate Women (Laura Bates, 2020) at the moment. She's talking about the manosphere: the massive online communities of men who congregate to talk misogyny, ranging from PUAs to MRAs, incels and MGTOW. These aren't new topics to me—I've been following this off and on since watching Gamergate kick off—but Bates handles them well and I think this book could serve as an introduction if this is a movement with which you're not familar. By the way, it's been a decade since Gamergate this year. Isn't that a kicker?
(Incidentally, I first ran into the concept of incels way before I think many people did: when I was still on AVEN, c. 2006-2007ish, I remember a few occasions where users ran into incel communities and brought them to our forums to ask: is this like what we're doing? Is this like us? Consensus quickly solidified on the direction of "no," each time, not least because asexuality dialog at the time was extremely clear about divorcing desire from action, and it was very clear that the desires centered in that community were very different than the ones people in asexuality spaces were untangling.)
Bates handles the topic with grace, compassion, and a deep understanding that I really wish more writing on radicalization or terroristic networks used: people in real pain, who are struggling in pitiable circumstances to do their best and clearly need more support, can also in their pain be truly dangerous to others. Hurt people hurt people. Compassion for pain suffered is important—you can't understand recruitment without understanding that—but you also have to understand that pain, fermented in darkness, can create deadly poisons. Pain isn't essentially holy or cleansing or cauterizing. It doesn't accomplish anything good by existing. If we can relieve it, we should—but we should follow harm reduction principles as we do so, lest pain be allowed to multiply and fester.
What gets me is that in 2017, in the wake of the Google bro "manifesto," I spent a feverish week writing what wound up being a 20,000 word rebuttal studded with what eventually totaled 100+ peer reviewed citations. It got quite a bit of reach and covered ground ranging from effects of testosterone on behavior, the concept of effect size in sex differences, basic statistics, the ways that humans treat people differently based on their perception of gender, intersex trauma, and whether feminists care about men's problems (yeah, actually, and they should).
I released that piece, changed up my name and fannish presence—my long time pseud was tangled all over the piece's genesis—and hunkered down for the reprisals. I expected harassment and vitriol. It never really came: I ignored the comments on the post, after a bit, and I held boundaries on what I was willing to pay attention to. But by and large, I had no direct consequences from the Manosphere.
Perhaps the piece was too long (although I got many comments from people who read it and found it useful, and I included an index). Perhaps it was simply that I included a headshot of myself, with uncharacteristic red lipstick and characteristically buzzed hair, and cheerfully discussed throughout that I was butch and queer: sometimes I confuse people who are very focused on bioessentialist sex differences, because I don't fit their paradigms in the slightest.
About six months later, James Damore attempted to frame his incredibly poor decisions in light of his Asperger's, and I did get a couple dudes on social media presenting me with this information apparently in the hope that it would shock or embarrass me. I immediately pointed out, acerbically, that I'm equally autistic and that he was making us look bad, and they melted away again into the background. It wasn't really the well of terrifying anger and obliterative fury I was expecting.
I find myself reading these stories in Bates' book and thinking about the internet I grew up on: AVEN by 2005, WrongPlanet the same year, listening to people on the margins talk about their fears and hopes and dreams and theories about themselves. I find myself thinking about narratives and meaning, the stories we tell ourselves about who we are and why.
I'm certainly not the first person to worry about radicalization of young autistic people, especially autistic men. Not even close. Paradoxically, it's a group of people for whom an understanding of intersectionality is crucial: young disabled men often alienated deliberately from conceptualizing themselves as disabled, without the tools to understand why life is hard and painful and never seems to reflect their experiences, trying to construct understanding beyond one's singular, isolated defective wrongness—which is what's left, if you take community off the table.
(Have I mentioned how grateful I am that so many autistics are trans spectrum? Imagine if we weren't, and if I didn't have so many transfeminine sisters funneled along those same currents and drifting closely enough alongside to understand. My sisters, so many of whom are out there living and modeling better ways to understand and participate in gender as a social activity: by figuring out what is most comfortable for you, understanding that comfort for one might be agony for another, and taking steps to shape your own life into a fashion that wells forth the most peace and joy. It's a message we all need to hear, but that is a group of people I hear singing so loudly from my place in a different wing of the choir, and I love them for it.)
I don't have answers. As is, so often, the case these days, I have only grief and love, and the determination to build better structures where my own hands reach. I had intended to direct my career, once, to undermining the entire concept of "good genes" models of evolution and explaining how their convoluted connections to natural phenomena are better explained by other, more direct motives. Since 2020, I've been moving in a new direction—but what precisely it is, I'm not sure.
Sex differences is certainly a piece of it, though. Even if I find myself often enough writing that it's not enough to know a sex difference in one species to assume that another will reflect a similar relationship: we should study sex differences in animals, but we really shouldn't assume that humans will have the same ones or work the same way. I suspect this won't be the first time I tangle with that community. I suppose it depends how much authority I can accrue as protection first.
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v4mptoru · 10 months
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You don't even know my name do ya?
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Character/Fandom: Gojo Satoru/Jujutsu Kaisen
Summary: Although the very much well known Gojo Satoru has a ton of girls on his tail, his (six) eyes only seemed to be only on you.
Content(s): Implied fem!reader, cursing, Gojo actually being smitten while reader is outright confused and creeped out, Geto playing wingman and cringing at Gojo anyway, Shoko and Utahime being your gossip buddies.
next>>
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It was the summer of 2006.
It's nearly the end of the school year, the weather was getting warmer, and you see more people on the web posting more about their summer vacation.
The two girls by the name of Shoko and Utahime were currently by your side on the bench outside of Jujutsu Tech.
The two were gossiping while you were staring in the distance, maybe imagining a few fantasy scenarios you liked, it was all cool till you felt someone get pushed behind you,
You turn around to see a tall dude, lean yet lanky figure, white hair, and long white lashes. The most captivating part were his vibrant blue eyes, that were currently hidden behind his circular sunglasses.
"oh, Satoru.." "oh, it's Satoru." the two females beside you spoke, one in a casual tone and one in a tone of absolute disdain, Utahime was right behind Shoko as she stares at the white haired boy with a scowl.
The boy scoffed at the two girls as he turned to face you, clearing his throat out as he fixed his sunglasses, "Yo." he starts, "can I–" before he could even finish anything, a female voice interrupts him.
"boooo... corny.." Utahime behind you yawns as she lays her head on Shoko's shoulder, the brown haired girl snickers, almost choking on her cigarette, Satoru quickly shoots them a quick glare before he brings back his attention to you.
You chuckled softly at the two's antics as you as well turned back your focus to the guy in front of you, "uhm, hey?" you responded, smiling awkwardly at him as you tried to wave.
"hey." he repeats, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly as his eyes darts to you, "my friend over there thinks you're cute." he says, his voice cracking mid-sentence as he points his finger to someone behind him, you curiously shift your focus to the thing he was pointing to and you see another guy, black hair tied in a bun, and huge ass piercings.
the ravenette haired dude facepalms, visibly getting second-handedly embarrassed and cringing at his friend's way of flirting, he then steps in and pulls Satoru away, you can hear Shoko and Utahime giggling at the failed attempt of Satoru trying to talk to you.
You slowly turned to them with a deadpanned expression, "did you guys see that..?" You asked in a whisper in disbelief, genuinely what the fuck was that?
"that was so whack." Shoko mumbled underneath her breath as she takes out her cigarette with a small snicker, Utahime nods along in agreement before she turns to you, "you know who that was right?" she asks, now quite curious.
"I don't know who that twink was." You replied to her with a sigh as you massaged your temples, a snicker can be heard once again, "who was that?" you asked, tilting your head slightly to the side as you quirked a brow at Utahime.
She shrugs, "now that I think about it, you don't need to know.. if you see him, or he approaches you, avoid him." she says in a cautious tone, emphasizing the last part as she walks over to you and placed both hands on your shoulders, you winced slightly at the force.
"y-yeah, got that." you sighed in exasperation as she begins to shake your shoulders, "girly I am actually serious don't take this as a joke please avoid that trash of a man okay??" she raises her voice as she continuously shook you.
"okay yeah, that's enough I think she understands.." Shoko mutters as she pulled Utahime on the arm away from you while the girl wails her arm around, "nuh uh! i'm deadass!" she exclaims before Shoko places a hand over the girls mouth, muffling her words.
"y'know, you might actually wanna speak to that guy." Shoko suggests, winking at you with a smug expression as Utahime just lets out a loud gasp before scolding Shoko in a muffled voice, which the brown haired girl seemed to ignore as she smiles at you.
You thought about it for a moment, the guy seemed like a total weirdo, but you were kinda interested, I mean, the dude was literally pulled away by his friend, and what the hell did he mean by 'my friend thinks you're cute'? it was amusing, that guy was obviously a load of shit and you mentally chuckled at the thought of it.
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A/n: Adding a part 2 and no, reader isn't so super shy.
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