Ryan’s ridiculous snap threats in the latest Criminal Masterminds video were perfect. Sure, when he’s out and about as the Vagabond he is all calculated menace and chilling intention, the Mercenary does not make empty threats, but Ryan? Sitting in the car getting cut off in traffic, off-site listening to his crew being disrespected over the comms, unreasonably affronted in the face of yet another missing meal in his take-out order, Ryan?
He spits ludicrous, impractical, completely disproportionate threats as easily as breathing; a wide variety of almost childishly extreme declarations, though his clear go-to is almost always some variation of i’ll set your house on fire. It’s been hissed and shouted, furiously snarled like a promise and crankily muttered under his breath like a particularly murderous gremlin. Ryan’s said it at couriers and telemarketers, to contract killers and unfortunately placed stop signs, about television screens, errant traffic lights and literally anyone he’s not allowed to directly punish for insulting a member of the FAHC.
It’s the kind of threat that, while undeniably terrifying from the infamous Vagabond, would be silly hyperbole from anyone with less blood on their hands. The kind of threat that keeps the rest of the crew in stitches, snorting laughter and rolling their eyes, fond exasperation in the face of what is essentially the sulky tantrum of a disgruntled mercenary. The kind of threat one says just to say it, stress relief and dark fantasy, nasty little dreams Ryan has no intention of actually following through on. Except for when he does.
For a fleeting second, Y/N hated him. She hated him with her entire being. He was a manipulative rodent who dug his filthy claws into anything that displayed the slightest amount of light - the slightest amount of innocence - and he’d ruin them. Y/N had seen it before - many a times - all at the hands of the seventeen year old boy. His face was angelic, his eyes were soft, but he was cold and heartless - he was selfish and unforgiving. Everything he touched surely died. Y/N believed Tate was death itself. He had taken so many lives without even a second thought, some who remained confined in that very house. The house they were held captive in for all eternity - with no escape.
“You forget that I know everything about you, dear Y/N,” his voice taunted, echoing through the halls, “I know where you hide, I know the sound of your heart - it’s so easily distinguishable. I will always, always find you, my dear. There’s no point running.”
His thunderous steps echoed through the house, teasing Y/N. she padded across the carpeted floor, trying to keep her breathing at a minimal. She couldn’t let him find her - if he did, she was dead. She knew she couldn’t get away from him, he had always had the ability to catch his prey. He had killed so many before her, this was his forte. He enjoyed the hunt almost as much as he enjoyed the kill. She was completely scared of him and he knew that, he knew how to use it to his advantage. She was done for. She knew that. He knew that. But why did she keep running, Keep trying to find an escape? Because she didn’t want to die at the hands of her lover.
Her murderous, psychopath lover.
Y/N skidded to a halt, stopping just metres away from him. She gasped for air, her lungs wheezing. She couldn’t fight any longer. It was over. It was all over. Her lower lip trembled as sadness crashed over her in giant waves, she was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to die at the hands of Tate. She stumbled backwards, but he took two steps forward. His long strides asserting a sense of dominance over Y/N. she audibly gulped.
He could hear her heart racing, a smirk creeping its way onto his face, giving him a sinister look. As if his true self was revealing, he looked like a demon - something from a nightmare.
“You don’t have to do this, Tate. I won’t leave, I promise. I’ll stay with you forever, just please don’t do this to me.” She begged, tears glossing her eyes.
Tate’s strides faltered as he saw the sadness and pain in her eyes. He never wanted to hurt her - but she couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t risk her leaving him. He shrugged off the feeling - the nagging in the back of his head, begging him to stop too; this wasn’t what he wanted - Tate had never wanted to hurt her, but he had no choice. She was going to leave him and he couldn’t let that happen.
Y/N noticed his falter and used it to her advantage, she bolted back in the direction she came from. Grabbing onto the banister, she turned round the corner and pounded down the stairs. Screaming at the top of her lungs - screaming bloody murder. She prayed inwardly that someone would save her from the monster she loved, from the monster trapped inside the boy. She grabbed the handle of the door - locked - she shook the handle aggressively. Frustrated tears falling rapidly. She grabbed the keys from the pot, shakily jamming the key into the door and wrenching the door open just as Tate reached the bottom of the stairs.
She yelped when he caught up to her, seizing her aggressively by her upper arm. His blunt nails digging into her skin, drawing blood to the surface. She shouted in pain, swinging her elbow back and delivering a harsh blow to his gut. He doubled over, hissing through his teeth, glaring daggers at her. Y/N wasted no time as she sprinted down the driveway and through the gates, across the road for safe measure.
She rested her hands on her knees, heaving through struggling, burning lungs. She coughed a few times, cautiously glancing at Tate across the road. His eyes were almost burning red with anger and his lips were pulled back in a snarl, a sinister and menacing snarl that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. But for now, she was safe. Until Halloween at least.
Halloween rolled around and paranoia had settled inside Y/N. she was constantly looking around, trying to spot Tate’s cold, brown eyes through the crowd. She jumped every time someone stood behind her. She was terrified and frankly, losing her mind. The paranoia was eating her alive. The bags under her eyes were as prominent as ever. She was afraid.
Y/N knew she had to walk past the house on the way home, she just prayed Tate wasn’t lurking around, waiting to pounce. Her pace increased drastically as the house came into view. She could feel eyes on her back, her pace once again picked up. The hair on the back of her neck spiked as she let out ragged breathes, anxiety bubbling up inside her.
She turned round the corner, glancing left and right. She almost jumped out of her skin. His eyes seemed to shine through the darkness, taunting. He was always tainting her. Eyes that were once were filled with only love and adoration for her were now filled with rage and a murderous glaze. Y/N’s skin prickled with goosebumps. He advanced towards her before she had time to react, she was frozen in her place.
“My darling, Y/N, why’d you run away? Leave the house when you knew I could not follow, oh how naughty of you.” Tate smirked, running a chilled finger down her tinted cheeks.
she flinched away from his touch, causing him to seize her chin in a painful grip. Her eyes glossed with tears, a few escaping revealing just how scared she was. Scared of the man she once adored with all her being.
“Don’t have anything to say? Hmm, that’s not what happened last night. I recall you calling me a psychopath, insane I believe. Is that what you remember, darling?”
Y/N nodded, fear consuming her.
“We’d better get you back to the house and if you dare fight, I will not hesitate to drag you in myself.”
“Tate, fight it. For me. For us. Fight the monster inside. Don’t do this, my love. Don’t condemn me to a miserable life, bound to that house!” She whispered, tears now streaming freely down her cheeks.
He didn’t even react to her words as if he had heard them a million times before and they held no significance anymore. He would show no mercy.
Y/N had never seen him so malicious and heartless towards her. Sure, she had seen him glare and spit snide comments to his mother and occasionally Hayden, but never her. He had only ever shown her kindness and love. The change in personality chilled her to the bone. What had happened to the boy she fell for? Or was this him all along?
He shoved her forward and she staggered slightly. He grabbed her arm, stabilising her before dragging her towards the dreaded murder house. Her insides flipped as it came into view. This was were it ended. She knew that. He knew that.
She staggered through the front door, collapsing to her knees almost instantly. Sobs erupted through her, her shoulders shaking as she cried. She knew he enjoyed watching his prey beg, plead for their lives, but she couldn’t help herself. She had given him the satisfaction of seeing her beg.
Tate’s smirk only grew. He weaved his fingers into her hand, gripping the tendrils tightly and yanking her head back, revealing her neck. He smiled sinisterly at the exposed skin, picking up the knife from the table and dragging the tip along the apple of her cheek. The tip cut along her skin causing Tate to sigh in satisfaction, blood trickling down her cheek and down her neck. Tate circled around to be in front of her, he knelt down, smiling. And then he delivered the fatal swipe, a long cut along her neck.
She gurgled, blood spilling from the wound. Blood spilled from her lips. She spluttered, choking slightly. Her hands flew up to her neck, her eyes wide. And with that, the world went dark and her limbs grew heavy. She hit the floor with a thud. Blood spilled from her mouth and the wound on her neck, dribbling onto the carpet. Leaving a taunting stain, leaving a stain that would forever leave visitors curious.
Y/N vision cleared and she sat up, the floor now clean apart from the dry, reddish brown stain on the carpet. Her hands flew to her neck, she let out a stifled sob when her fingertips brushed against the wound. Her eyes squeezed shut, her breathing irregular.
“I’m dead.” She wheezed, shaking.
“I’m sorry, baby, I really am. I couldn’t fight the urge. I couldn’t risk you leaving me. Please forgive me.” Tate rasped from behind her.
She scrambled to her feet, spinning around to face him with wide eyes and a hand outstretched to ward him off.
“Go away, Tate.” She cried, he let out a whine of protest which evolved into a scream.
“No, Y/N. I’m sorry. Don’t do this! Y/N!” He screamed, tears streaming down his face.
“Go away!” She screamed just as loud and she was gone, back in her room. She collapsed onto the bed, crying and kicking.
Tate whimpered. The silence that spread through the house taunted him. Oh what had he done?
Likes, reblogs, asks and replies are greatly appreciated. Tell me what you think.
@nostalgic-uncertainty - A fluffy Hannibal :3 as fluffy as he can be without it being weird that is XD maybe one in which reader is going out with Hannibal and it’s great until she walks in on him killing someone in his murder suit, she flips out, he drugs her and then what happens is up to you XD
Ugh, I love Hannibal waaaaaay more than I should considering, y’know, he’s a cannibalistic serial killer… I’m always nervous writing about Hannibal because I’m scared of characterising him incorrectly; feels like an insult to do that. But after months of procrastination, I just have to sit and write the thing that scares me. Hannibal wouldn’t mind, I hope. But anyways, uhm, @thranduilsperkybutt helped me out so much with this. If you don’t follow them, you really should. Everything they write is flawless and almost taken from canon. Thank you, lovely! ❤
Your shift was almost over, thankfully. You just had to print out some files and leave them in your outbox for Monday.
As you were walking down the corridor to the printing room, you heard shuffling and a series of grunts coming from the Director’s office. Thinking it may have just been the Director working out in his office, as he kept a punching bag in the corner, you thought nothing of it, walking past without glancing inside and continuing on your errand.
As you reached the printer, scanning your aged ID card and carrying out your errand, you were initially unaware of the sudden lack of background noise. Indeed, as you began to notice the quiet ringing in your ears, the silence became deafening.
Something was wrong. There was ice in your gut and though you couldn’t say why, you felt compelled in equal measures to investigate and run away. There was no telling which of the two compulsions was stronger.
Slipping your heels off because really, they were death traps, you padded quietly down the corridor, back the way you came. You reached the office and there was very little sound, just quiet squelches and the odd squeak, as though two things very much attached to one another were now being ripped apart forcibly.
Curiosity getting the better of you, you curled your hand around the door frame and peered around, looking into the expanse of the office. All you saw at first glance was the sight of a familiar broad back, clad in a plastic suit, leaning over the desk chair, occasionally grunting with the physical exertion.
There was a metallic tang in the air, and you gagged. You knew what was before you, what your five senses were registering, but you didn’t want to believe it. How could you believe it?
The imposing figure turned then, and your heart dropped into your stomach, bile rising up into your throat as you recognised the perpetrator.
His eyes… Never before had you seen your partner look at you, look at anyone, like that. He was, for lack of a better word, unfeeling. There was no emotion in his eyes. Hannibal Lecter had the eyes of a shark, now. He was facing you directly, his predatory eyes meeting yours unflinchingly.
You didn’t recognise the man stood in front of you.
And the man behind him, he - your eyes widened, your breath caught in your throat and all sense of logic left you immediately. The room was spinning and you couldn’t think or see straight. You felt the need to run, to run, far away and never once look back.
His throat had been cut deeply, exposing white bone, which had an ugly contrast with the sheer amount of blood and the ravaged flesh around it. You knew what those grotesque noises had been - Hannibal, cutting and tearing into tissue, his hands grabbing and pulling apart sinew and bone, the crunches and pops, like a chicken leg when you twist the cartilage and break it apart. It had been raw, animalistic, and yet perfectly carried out… What Hannibal had done, he had done well, and you knew all at once that Hannibal had killed before.
When you’d walked in, interrupting him, Hannibal had been settling the head against the plush backrest of the desk chair, adding the finishing touches to his murder.
Your eyes didn’t want to leave the sight of the remains of the Director and yet you couldn’t look away fast enough. You struggled to breathe, to think straight, to realise that you should call for help, for back-up, to take Hannibal down.
As your eyes settled back on the man you no longer knew, your chest heaving, your starved lungs craving oxygen, a part of you instantly knew where you had seen that look before, in the eyes of those featured in your criminology textbooks. Hannibal’s eyes were cold, calculating, and you realised somewhere in your mind that you were the next puzzle that had to be solved. You hoped that your romantic ties to the man, the beast, before you, would be your grounds for mercy, but if he could do this to the Director, then there was no telling what he’d do to you.
He took a step towards you, his face unreadable, his eyes cold and foreboding, and then other step, careful and measured. Whereas before you had wanted nothing more than to run, now you found yourself quite rooted to the spot. Something flashed across his face so quickly that you couldn’t identify it. He sped up, never faltering, never falling, just quick and steady, and he reached you so quickly that you didn’t even have the time to scream.
There was a very sudden movement, something in his hand, and then a sharp sting in your neck, and you succumbed to the darkness which now clouded your vision.
You came back into yourself slowly, your head fogged by whatever Hannibal had drugged you with, your movements slow. You didn’t know how you’d gotten here or even why you were here.
You looked around the room, taking in your surroundings. Recognition pulsed through you - you’d spent several nights here before in the past, when Hannibal had been too much of a gentleman to let you drive home in the middle of the night. You relaxed then, only to jolt up as you realised belatedly that the door was effectively blocked by Hannibal leaning up against it, not a hair out of place.
He was watching you closely, the way that a lion watches a gazelle that is perilously close to the pride. You knew then that, one wrong move, and he’d likely kill you or sedate you again. You were also at a crossroads - you could either… accept this side of Hannibal and stay alive, or you could make a run for it. You knew that the former option would likely result in your death, because Hannibal would just drag you right back to this place, and then you may never make it out alive.
During this, Hannibal had been watching you, closely. He could almost see the cogs turning in your mind as to which option you were likely to take, and he knew you well enough to know that a part of you had already chosen. The rest of you just had to come to terms with and accept it.
“Well, what are you going to do?” The way he said it made it seem like you had a choice here, but you’d had enough training to know that you really didn’t.
You had no choice.
It was stay and live, or leave and die. Simple as that, with no possibility of compromise.
“Why did you drug me?” Your voice was quiet, scratchy, and Hannibal looked towards your bedside cabinet, which had a glass of water sat atop it. You took it and drank gratefully, swallowing as you waited for his answer. You hoped that he’d tell you the truth now that you had discovered his biggest and deadliest secret.
“You were being irrational. Now look at how calm you are.”
You nodded carefully, your mind working overtime to try to rationalise and justify all of this.
Hannibal lingered in the doorway for another moment or two before he made his way towards you, his body language open and relaxing, now. The man before you was your Hannibal, not the man in the Director’s office. You couldn’t help the fond smile that found its way onto your face as those familiar dark brown eyes met yours, filled with something you wanted to be warm affection.
He smoothed your hair down with a single hand, which moved down to cup your chin. You leaned into his touch like a cat, and he smiled, leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. Then, Hannibal turned and left the room, shutting the door with a firm snap behind him.
This ended abruptly because I’ve spent two hours on this and I’ve had enough of it, plus I don’t think you’d really address the issue, it’d be one of those things that just never gets acknowledged. I could be wrong, though. Anyways, I had my mum read through this because I’m nervous about posting it. Hope you like it.
I would give all my money for a show/movie about William Shakespeare that accurately portrays his bisexuality, including his relationships with younger men and with the Dark Lady, instead of just the pasty white het romance loosely based on Romeo and Juliet with a thrown-away line about boys everyone seems to be doing
Seems a bit unapproachable to many because of
the people he hangs with, his height, and his very insular aura
Rockin’ that purple hair that he wears so well
Raps with Suga and Jhope on street corners, and
sometimes alone as well
But when he’s not rapping, he can be found hiding
out on his own writing lyrics, usually sitting outside as long as the weather
And even if it’s raining, he’ll find an awning
with a table to sit under as he scribbles away at his notebook, cranking out
Has a few usual places he goes
There’s this one ramen place that he frequents,
the owners know him and they’re pals, so he asks about how their kids are doing
and stuff like that, and they occasionally give him a free side dish because
he’s a nice guy
And there’s this one bench he likes at the park
because it overlooks the river and there’s a bridge and a field a little ways
away where he can just watch people
In fact, that’s a common theme with his favorite
places to write, is that he can people watch from them, whether it be at a park
or from an outside table at a restaurant or through the window of a library
So he was at the ramen shop one day, just people
watching as he slurped up his ramen before getting to writing
And in you walked to see your friend, a niece of
the people who owned the shop
And you noticed it was awfully busy and one of
the employees had called in sick so they were having a hard time handling it,
so you decided to lend a hand, and you
smiled as the woman thanked you
And he couldn’t help but watch because you
seemed really happy and thoughtful
So he casually stole somewhat prolonged glances
in your direction as he ate, and once he finished eating, he continued to watch
absently as he pulled out his notebook and started scratching away with his pen
Until he caught the attention of the woman who
ran the shop, your friend’s aunt, and she was like ‘ohOOH I seeeee…’ and he
looked down a little embarrassed and went back to writing, so the woman sent
you out to take care of his table
So you, completely unaware that he’d been staring
a little, went over, took his dishes and asked him if you could get him
anything else just then
‘Oh, yes some tea would be great, thank you.’ He
was very polite and gracious, and you returned with the tea shortly after
‘If you don’t mind me asking, I come here all
the time so I know everyone in this shop, but I don’t recognize you. Are you a
friend of the family?’
So you told him how you were friends with their
niece, and why you were working there that afternoon, and you small talked a
little as you brought and refilled his tea, and he’d steal more glances as you
cleared tables around him, and maybe you stole a few of your own while his nose
was buried in his notebook, pencil in hand, working furiously as his eyes
narrowed ever so slightly in concentration
And once he’d finished with his writing for the
day, he stood up, paid, and waved goodbye to the owner before turning to you
‘If it’s not too much, I don’t think I caught
So you gave it to him
‘I’m Namjoon. It was good to meet you, maybe
I’ll see you around here again.’
And with that and a smile to boot, he left
And it was a little while before the two of you
were in the shop again at the same time
Almost three weeks to be exact, one lunch time
on a Sunday
But you can bet that the woman who ran the place
was sure to put you to work attending his table when that day came, bless her
So you greeted each other, both by name, and
continued with the pleasant chatting as you served him his ramen, poured tea,
and cleared away his dishes throughout his stay
And then it happened again about a week and a
half after that, so soon relatively speaking probably at least in part because
he’d started favoring this spot above his others for some reason… can’t imagine
This time you guys actually got to talking about
what he was doing with that notebook of his, so you found out that he was a
rapper and that was his lyric book
And then again a couple more times the following
week, and you’d talk and laugh not just as you served him, but as you served
tables near him and cleaned up, and glances were taken more and more
frequently, often resulting in brief but steady meeting of eyes, followed by
the both of you returning to your work with barely perceptible smiles gracing
A short time later, he went in to write one
evening, towards the end of the dinner rush
So you served his table as usual, and he stayed,
eating ramen and drinking tea as he wrote until the other customers had left,
though there was still an hour till closing time
So you cleaned around him and when you were
finished, the owner poured you some tea and you brought it over to enjoy
Namjoon’s company in a more concentrated dose than you could have while you
were busy working
So he set his notebook aside and you two talked
for a while
And a few minutes in, you took the leap and
asked him if you could see some of what’s in his notebook
So he smiles lightly and hands it to you, and
you take it very gingerly as if it’s the most delicate and valuable book in the
world, and you slowly open up to a random page towards the beginning, and you
read through lyric after lyric
After a little while of looking at them, you
point out one of them to him, and tell him that it’s your favorite, because it
reminds you of some important transitional period in your life, and you talk
about it, and the whole time you’re doing that, he’s just looking at you
Stolen glances have now given way to forward,
unabashed stares, and when you look up from the book, you hold his gaze
After a while, he rises up slowly from his seat
and rests one palm on the center of the table to support himself as he leans
And he rests the other one hesitantly on your
cheek, silently asking permission to keep going with his eyes, and you consent
by leaning up a little and looking down at his lips
Slowly but surely, he leans forward and down
until he is only a centimeter or two away from you, and he pauses, for a split
second, before he closes the rest of the gap
He kisses you very gently and slowly, delicately
stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb a few times before he moves his
hand back behind your neck to slide his fingers into your hair
The lady who runs the shop peaked out to refill
your tea, but as soon as she saw what was going on, she froze, smiled proudly,
and snuck back on into the kitchen so as not to disturb the scene before her
From that point on, you two met at the shop near
closing time often, a few times a week, sharing in hushed, late night
conversations, passing, innocent touches and secret kisses
It was a couple of weeks later when the two of
you exchanged numbers and he asked to introduce you to his friends
From then on, you graduated from the secluded
meetings to a real relationship in broad daylight
So you started going out with them when they
rapped on the streets, and you’d accompany him to his other writing spots,
though the ramen stop was still his favorite
He liked sitting across from you so he could
look at you
He also loved holding your hand, so you’d do
that whenever you were walking somewhere, and he’d absently fiddle with your
fingers with his off hand while he wrote lyrics with his main hand
When you came out with him and the boys late at
night, he was always a little tamer with you around than he’d been with just
Doesn’t give a what sort of bad boy
Looks on people who judge him prematurely with a
judgement of his own, like how dare you, if you’re that quick to judge then your
opinion doesn’t matter anyway
Regularly found sleeping at odd hours in music
Also regularly found up and about as if its
midday when in reality it’s three in the morning
When he’s up and not with friends, he spends his
time writing raps, listening to music, and rapping in tunnels and on street
And he usually gathers quite a crowd, because
not only is he a fantastic rapper, he writes really deep, meaningful stuff
When he is out with friends, usually Namjoon,
sometimes he raps with them and sometimes he’s just out goofing off late at
So you guys first meet because he’s getting
chased out of some wealthy neighborhood for disturbing the peace by a cop who
was tending the gate
And you’re walking out of the convenience store
that you had the late shift on, and it’s completely dark inside, and you’ve
just closed up
So he sees the chance to hide, so he rushes in,
kind of not thinking through the fact that you were right there, and he kind of
bumps into you half way, and you both kinda start to fall, but he manages to
get you both back inside, and the door closes behind you
And you’re about to scream bloody murder because
what the flip, but he whispers as soon as you’re both inside “oh my gosh, are
you okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to run into you, I just needed to hide for
And you’re like “why are you hiding?”
“I was out rapping in some rich neighborhood,
and someone called the gate guard, and apparently he has nothing better to do
than chase me out.”
So the two of you just sit tight in the dark
store a little back from the door as the guards are standing in the street,
clearly confused about where he went, checking down alleyways, and jiggling
doors, for about a minute, until they finally leave
When he says at a normal volume now “*whew,
sorry about that. Thanks for not getting me caught.”
“Heh, no problem. Everyone in that neighborhood
is a snob, they come in here all the time and they complain the whole time
they’re here about our ‘poor selection.’ We’re a friggin convenience store, not
an organic farmers’ market.”
“… Hey listen, while I’m here, can I grab a
“Sure can, they’re right along that wall.”
So this guy who hid from the cops in your store
for petty disturbing of the peace just buys a soda after closing time, thanks
you for not turning him over, and then just leaves. Just like that
So that was kind of an interesting night for
both of you
Partly because of the whole hiding from the cops
And then also partly because huh, he was
strangly flip about the whole thing, which was intriguing, but also didn’t seem
like a total jerk…?
And because wow, you were oddly chill with the
fact that he was like ‘oh hey, can I hide from the cops in your store?’ and you
were just like ‘oh yeah, those jerks, here have a soda while you’re at it’…?
So a couple days later in mid afternoon when he
woke up after sleeping since four in the morning, he was back
Totally just for the soda though
“Hey, disturbing of the peace boy. You look like
you just woke up.”
“… But it’s two in the afternoon.”
“Yeah. I went to bed at four.”
“Oh. Okay. So who’s neighborhood were you
“Just the docks off fifth street.”
“Nice. So the ducks. You were terrorizing the
And that was how it was with you two. He’d come
by for a soda every few days, and you’d banter back and forth until he was done
buying his soda, or chips, or whatever he was there for, and then he’d leave
That went on for a couple of weeks, before one
day he was in, and he decided to just go for it
“Hey listen, I’m doing a collab with a rapper
friend of mine a couple of streets down, you wanna come see? We’re doing it at
So you were like this is awesome. This is great
So obvi you said yes
So you went to see, and you got there at like
5:05 and filed through the crowd so you could see them
When he saw you in the crowd he shot you an
eyebrow raise and a smile as he went on ahead and just casually spat some fire,
as he does
So you watched for the whole thing, and clapped
with a big smile with the crowd because wow, this was really impressive
And then when they were done, they all started
packing up, and you helped them a little and then while the rest of the guys
finished up, Yoongi and you chatted for a while
Like, quite a while
You just started and didn’t stop
And then there was a pause, and then he was like
“Do you wanna go out and get a soda somewhere other than your convenience
And you were like “h#ck yessss”
So you two walked a couple blocks down to this
OTHER convenience store, because it’s not your convenience store so it’s not
like work for you, so that qualifies as a date obviously
And you bought sodas, and then kept walking a
And then wound up at an arcade
And then wound up sneaking copious amounts of
snacks into a really crappy movie
And then threw left over bready snacks to ducks
And got more sodas
And then improvised raps on the spot about
everything you were seeing as you walked around
And before you knew it, it was like two in the
And so you had to be getting going, so he walked
you back to where your car is, and before he left, you leaned up and kissed his
cheek, making him laugh to try and cover up the nerves as he couldn’t contain
his gummy smile
“See you around the shop?”
“Yep, see ya.”
So you guys kind of slowly unnofically became a
thing? It wasn’t like “lets be bf/gf,” it just sort of… happened? Like friends
but with the chemistry and the skinship and all
He chilled in your shop a lot (as long as the
owner wasn’t around so he couldn’t get in trouble for loitering), and you two
would go out and just roam the streets at odd hours of night
And once you got comf, he’d throw his arm over
your shoulder a lot as you walked, and you’d kiss his cheek, bringing out that
Prettyboy bad boy
Like not really a bad boy, just kinda hangs out with some badboyish people
And when he’s not being an absolute goof, he can
look kind of ethereal sometimes so it adds to the MYSTERY (“OOOOOOH” hand
waviness and random smoke and sparkles coming out of nowhere)
Honestly, he’s the momfriend of the badboys.
Like why does the badboy friend group even have a momfriend?? Like they spend
their time staying out until the early morning, disturbing the peace,
loitering, and generally being rowdy…?? Idk, but it’s him, he’s the momfriend
Wears ankle boots with legit tread and a zipper
Also a jean jacket, but somehow manages to look
kind of soft but not in like a ‘he needs to be taken care of,’ sort of way,
So he and the other all dark and mcbroody doods
are all out wreacking a reasonable amount of havoc (well, they’re wreaking
havoc and he’s trying to kind of keep things at least somewhat safe and in
So the first time you see each other, the other
boys are throwing empty soda cans, trying to hit something from off of a street
light, and Jin is all like ‘guys, really, stop throwing soda cans’
And you happen to be walking by and the boys
weren’t paying attention, and Jin was on your side of the road picking up after
the guys, and he saw them throw a can and it was about to hit you and it just…
he just… he caught it. No one knows how and it was such a bossin thing to do,
it was like in those cheesy movies where the guy saves the girl from getting
hit in the face with a ball except minus the diving jump and the slow motion,
but STILL (and it’ll literally never happen again, because this guy is kind of
uncoordinated and I’m honestly amazed that it happened even this once)
So he says across the street to them ‘Guys, you
almost hit this poor girl, behave’
And then he turns to you to apologize for them,
but he kind of pauses for a minute and then smiles a little because oh… she’s…
‘Sorry about them, I’ve been trying to get them
to stop… I don’t know if I… can’ he
says chuckling kind a nervously and holding up the soda can he caught as he
laid out the terrible pun
You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at his
quirkiness, and he was cute, and just had this wholesome feel in spite of the
fact that he hung with the bad boys, and you couldn’t help but smile because he
seemed so caring
So you said ‘It’s fine, it was a soft drink anyway, I’m sure it wouldn’t
have hurt too bad.’
And he laughed good naturedly and it was a
little awkward but kind of sweet because you were exchanging puns with a
complete stranger and that was nifty
And he, being the friendly guy that he is,
decided ‘hey, she seems cute, and sweet, and we have extra sodas, and these
boys are being insufferable rn, why not offer her one and wind down?’
So that’s what he does, and you say yes, because
after all, it was mid-day, and it wasn’t super busy but there were other people
around so it was safe enough
So you stuck around and talked, he told you
about the boys and how they met, and the music that they did together when they
weren’t getting into trouble, and he asked you about your hobbies, and job, and
school, and you just talked
For like an hour
Before the other boys were ready to go, and they
shouted at Jin “Hey, say goodbye to your new girlfriend, lets go get food!’
And Jin chuckled kind of awkwardly, and so did
you, and after a moment of silence of you two kind of just standing there, he says
‘Hey listen, if you want to do meet again we come out here most Saturday afternoons,
so we’ll be here next week, if you, I don’t know… want to… do this again’
So you kind of mull over it for a week
And by the time the next Saturday rolls around,
you still haven’t really decided
But oh darn, would you look at that, you’re out
And naturally, you can’t go a day without
And, I mean, you could just go to the grocery
store down the street…
Or you could walk for ten extra minutes both
ways and go to the convenience store with the worse selection
And I mean, so what if it just happens to be the
same one that you met that guy Jin outside of, and where he said he probably
would be today, and I mean you weren’t sure but you felt like they were having
a sale on doritos or something last week, so maybe you could get a second bag
for like 50% off, and that was totally worth an extra twenty minutes of walking
in this kind of chilly weather, right?
And SO WHAT if you happened to run into him
again, right? It’s not like that was your plan, it would just be a funny
coincidence and maybe you’d stay and chat… just, for like, a minute or forty
So you walk there and OH WOW what a surprise
‘Oh hey! It’s good to see you again? Shopping?’
He smiles as he asks you
‘oh, yeah, just needed some doritos.’
‘Let me get you a lot better than doritos.
There’s a coffee place down the block, we can go for a cup if you want.’
And that’s how it starts
You trade numbers after coffee, and you text a
lot, and Saturday afternoons becomes official date time for you guys. You start
to go out more and more often in between as well, but Saturday afternoon, you
always go to that coffee shop
And he always insists on paying for you every
time, and he’s such a gentleman, which feels out of place with the leather
jacket and the people he hangs with, but it’s also nice
And as you get to know the guys as well, you
help him keep them out of trouble
And they’re not bad kids, they just need some
chaperoning on occasion
So as you roam around the city, he stands on the
outside of the sidewalk, with his hand on your back, or with his fingers
intertwined with yours, leaving the occasional kiss on your temple whenever the
mood moves him
On those two nights a week after your work or
school when he comes over for you guys to eat dinner and watch dramas (your
relationship is filled with habits), he loves to cook for you, and he’ll teach
you the recipes he knows, and then while you’re relaxing on the couch, he’ll
sing to you in his sweet voice
Mmmhmm such a bad boy
But someone’s gotta take care of the other boys,
and now that you two are dating, that’s just double the mama power to handle
Ok! The second of 4 Andre prompts! I will break up the next
few with a Michael Latta and JVR one! I hope you all like the cute fluffy
Andre, especially you anon! Loved the prompt and I hope I did it justice!
Warning: Teasing (you know the kind)
Anon request: Can you please do an Andre Burakovsky imagine
about his gf spending the night and when she wakes up she tries to leave but he
won’t let her and and they end up spending the day together in bed and it’s
super adorable and fluffy. Please and thank youuuuu!!!
up, your back pressed against Andre’s front, his arms wrapped tightly around
you. You sighed and snuggled back into Andre as the morning light filtered
through the window.
Aoba always has the most current, thans to rens alerts
Mizuki follows aoba but only with the more neccesary upgrades.
Koujaku usually waits till the current version starts giving him problems. He also complains everytime he has to get a mandetory update seeing as ‘nothing was wrong with the last one!’
Noiz always has some weird tech (which is 90 percent his own design) And always uses clear to test out certain upgrades (against aobas wishes)
Even as the hits continued to rain on your already bloodied, bruised, and weakened form, the only thing you could focus on was your memories of Kyungsoo. His eyes, his nose, the way his lips curved into a smile that could only be seen in private, and finally, how you would never get to tell him you loved him.
It had been a month since he had pulled you from the back room of a sporting goods store back to his mansion after you ran. A month in which you imagined you would be getting nothing but hell. You did flee from him, after all.
But instead, you fell in love.
After he rolled off of you, spent from fucking you into his plush mattress, you fell asleep, only to be woken by crying a few hours later. You rose from your slumber, stretching your sore muscles, and saw Kyungsoo sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over, crying into his hands.
That was the night you realized that the man you had been married to out of business, and not choice, had feelings. The gang leader that could make men twice his size cower with a look, was crying because you had left him. After confronting him, he revealed how scared he was when you left, how broken he felt in the few hours it was that you had been gone. How he loved you.
You couldn’t tell him you felt the same way, not yet, but you did promise him you would give him another chance. You would try to love the man you used to believe your captor.
And you succeeded.
Even though Kyungsoo was off taking care of his illicit business much of the time, he would always make time for you, making you understand how important you were to him. You began returning his kisses, initiating contact, trying to show him he was getting through to you.
Then came his business trip.
Kyungsoo had to go overseas to oversee a large business merger, and he had to go for a week. Without you. He was pained at the thought, but he had to do what was necessary. So he left you with an empty mansion, save the small army of security guards he had hired since before you were married.
How foolish of him.
It hadn’t even been a full day after his departure that the gang he was supposed to be dealing with in another country ruined the stillness.
You were brooding about the loss of contact with Kyungsoo for the next week in the kitchen when you heard the shots. Jumping up from your spot at the counter, you ran to where you knew Kyungsoo stored weapons, snagging a handgun and preparing for the worst, which was very likely, judging by the sounds of all out warfare outside.
Remembering Kyungsoo’s instructions to head to the panic room should anything happen, you had only made it a few steps when your bodyguards, hand picked by your husband, entered the room you were in, shouting instructions to come with them. You had slid a step forward in their direction when shots rang out, inside instead of outside this time, and each of the bodyguards slumped to the ground.
A man walked in, holding a handgun straight out and aimed at you. So, you reacted instinctively. You raised your gun in both hands and squeezed the trigger once, twice, three times.
The man, now with three holes in his left chest, looked at you in surprise before falling to the ground next to where your bodyguards lay in varying stages of dying and dead.
You had no time to concern yourself with what you had done. You ran without direction, the sound of gunshots surrounding you and deafening you. Deafening you so much that you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you until it was too late.
A body slammed you into the wall and into a glass vase, the shards embedding themselves in your side, adding your crimson blood to the spatters of it that already stained your home like a grotesque form of modern art.
Having collapsed to the ground from the impact, you blinked up hazily at a black-masked attacker. As soon as your eyes made contact, he dropped to your level and pressed a cloth that smelled heavily of chemicals into your gasping face. In shock, you breathed in, inviting a rush of chemicals and darkness into your head.
When a headache that felt like a hammer being driven into your skull woke you, you were tied to a chair in the center of a dingy room. Several men lounged against the walls, until one noticed you had risen. He nudged the man next to him, who knelt in front of you and began to ask you a series of questions you had no answers to.
You tried to speak, to tell them that you had no idea what they were talking about, but your tongue was leaden in your dry mouth. When you did manage a slightly coherent answer, that was when they struck you first. The hits just kept coming, making your body ache more than it had from the lacerations before.
Their fists and knives painted your body mottled black, blue, and red, and there was nothing you could do but pray that Kyungsoo would make it back from his business trip and come to save you. But as your mind blacked out again and again to shelter you from the pain that had become as familiar to you as your heartbeat, you began to doubt it. He would’ve come back for you by now, right? You hadn’t been able to keep track of time, but he had to acknowledge what had happened at the mansion.
Unless he was dead.
Even now, as pain flamed through every fiber of your being as a knife was driven into your thigh, your concern went to Kyungsoo. No matter what, he had to live on. You wouldn’t be able to survive without him.
That thought scared you more than the blood that was now gushing from your thigh, coating your legs a sticky, warm red. It was the truth; you wouldn’t manage to go on without him. Why?
You loved him. And watching the flow of blood from your thigh start to weaken, you knew you would never get to tell him. This was it for you. Only four months with the man you loved, and that was it.
Goodbye, Kyungsoo. I love you, you thought, squeezing your eyes shut, waiting for your end, as a man approached with a gun this time, looking hungry for blood. Yours.
But your husband wouldn’t just leave you like that.
Dimly, through the fugue of pain clouding your mind, you heard gunfire in the space outside your room, combined with a familiar voice shouting furiously, “Where is she?!”
Your eyes snapped open, focusing on the door to your room, which was shaking as if someone was being thrown against it. The man in front of you who originally seemed intent on ending you, now stood in front of you, gun drawn and waiting for whoever was at the door to step in.
As a last prayer to whatever deities were out there, you screamed Kyungsoo’s name. The banging on the door increased in ferocity, until it burst inwards. In front of you, the man fired twice without you getting to see who was there. Again you screamed, fearing for Kyungsoo’s life.
More shots sounded, but this time from whoever entered the room, landing in your captor’s flesh and causing him to topple so you could see your savior.
Standing like a prince of hell holding a gun in one hand and the body of a bleeding man in front of him, Kyungsoo had finally arrived to save you. Upon seeing you, the expression of murder flipped into that of the utmost concern, and he dropped the body of the man that he had been using as a shield, tucking his gun into his pants as he ran for you. Gently, he took your cheeks into his hands and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, locking eyes with yours, which were drooping by the second.
“Y/N?! Y/N, darling, you need to stay with me just a bit longer, I’m going to get you out of here and into a hospital, please, I need you,” he muttered urgently, severing your bonds and lifting your body into his arms as you slumped forward.
In his arms, you smiled. You were home at last, safe in his arms. “Kyungsoo…” you rasped, weakly locking your arms around his neck. “I…love you.”
A ghost of a smile flashed over his face, but then he was moving out to the hall, too fast for your head to keep up with. Unconscious again, your head fell against his shoulder and your arms dropped from his neck. But you were safe in your husband’s arms and you had said what you needed, even if you were injured. He wouldn’t let harm come to you.
All was well.
!!!! I can’t do fluff very well, so I did more of the sorta than the romance in your request. Why is it so many of my fics involve passing out?
I remember when I first watched Life On The Murder Scene my mom was in the room and it was during the part when they were talking about how they’re from Jersey and she was like “wait. Way? MICHAEL Way? GIVE ME A MINUTE!” and sprints out of the room and comes back in with her High School yearbook and long story short my mom and aunt went to high school with Mikey Way
It never sits right with me that Cassian is called a former Separatist. Cassian, as @attackfish pointed out, was born 26 BBY and was at most seven years old when the Clone Wars were over and the Separatists were officially defeated in 19 BBY.
I mean, child Cassian may have thrown rocks and bottles at the Republic military, maybe even tagged along with Separatists to give what help he could, but that alone does not make him an insurgent. It is factually, morally, militarily, legally, and humanly wrong to call a child a combatant when he was being a kid in a community under attack. That’s the kind of rhetoric that gets children murdered.
Flip the script, though. What if this was a story that Cassian spread about himself? What if he himself claimed to have been a Separatist and the story spread? What would he gain from telling such a lie or, at the very least, gross exaggeration?
Well, there’s an element of fear and respect, of course. Maybe his enemies would think twice before tangling with a battle-hardened insurgent. Maybe he wanted his comrades to take him seriously. Maybe he wanted to get into the Rebellion and forged his credentials. (”Oh hey, I used to kill Republic soldiers. Can I get in on this Alliance to Restore the Republic action?”)
You know what I think, though? I think he originally made up that story to lie about his age.
Imagine Cassian at fourteen or fifteen, with nothing more to lose and nothing left for him at home except ruins and grief. He wants to join the Rebels but they’re like, hey um, there’s a little problem. You’re underage, come back when you’re old enough to drink kthxbye
And Cassian, rubbing at a moustache that is totally not makeup and speaking in a falsetto baritone that is totally his natural speaking voice, tells them: HOW DARE U I’M NOT A KID I’M TWENTY-FIVE. I USED TO BE A DANGEROUS SEPARATIST AND I’VE KILLED CLONE TROOPERS FOR LESSER INSULTS IS THIS BECAUSE OF MY HEIGHT I’M SUING FOR EMPLOYMENT DISCRIMINATION
And the Rebel recruitment officer is like… okay…? It’s not like they can pull records to check anyway, even if the records from Separatist planets were all intact.
So young Cassian joins the Alliance, head held high, and the story spreads and becomes part of his mystique. Sure it might not match with some of his other biographical details and his close friends might know it’s bullshit, but the story was useful on multiple levels and he didn’t bother denying it when people asked.