#I can feel it all coming back to me lmfaoooo

[daechwitatamicrecs]

A repost of my original feedback!

okay let me tell you (collective) all the things i love about this fic: (read more for spoilers)

the world / the cyberpunk of it all / the background of the Syndicate and the many ways the setting affects the story and the characters - it all spiderwebs out and touches everything and it is done SO masterfully. your characters are who they are because of the world that shaped them and you see the potential for them to be somebody else, somebody softer, but that's not the hand they were dealt. also the little futuristic touches were so subtle but made this SO visceral and immersive, reading this fic is like a whole experience that i can picture and feel like i'm walking through

the way you use bracketing and call-backs, the way everything is cyclical and comes back later, but when it comes back it's turned sideways........ insane work. INSANE work inside that brain. i think the most obvious example of this is the jump / how high refrain but there are SEVERAL MORE through here that i yelled about in the doc and they are all!!! so!!!!

This big brother Seungcheol makes me INSANE he's such a minor character throughout this but every time he shows up it's like !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THERE HE IS and you can see the beginnings of a very Zaddy character and i am readyyyyyyyyyyy for his installment!!!!

the bracketing of funerals (his to hers) and the difference in those scenes but also they way they are a pillar for each other and how even though he "hates" her (we know the truth kwon soonyoung) he's still gonna hold her up

WORD CHOICE, BITCH. specifically the "not to ME" and "i NEED you to fight back" BOTH SO SO SO SO DELIBERATE AND THEY DO SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH WITH ONE LITTLE WORD IT CHANGES THE WHOOOOOOLE MESSAGE IF YOU'RE PAYING ATTENTION like?????????

"Do it even if you can’t tell me where you are. I’ll find you." - i can't believe you did this to me. to me, personally.

the recurring themes of the two sides of her family are masterclass. that's all.

the way you write people experiencing and moving through emotions is so well done. like. rereading the breakup scene, they both go through the rise and ebb of explosion to honest emotion to resolve but they do it in different ways and you feel both and RAHH. it is SO well done.

the scene of her panic attack? miss hali he is BONKERS???? WHO DOES THAT???? idc if it worked he could have done a million things and THAT was his choice???? lmfaoooo WILD. ABSOLUTELY WILD.

EVERY SINGLE THING that happens from when she wakes up and her shit is gone. EVERY single thing. the way hoshi responds. you know he fucking flew there, didn't even change out of his pajamas lol. the fight scene was everything. the bracketing again and how her thoughts spiral the same way as to when it was "i love him" and later when she's in the shower thinking of how she hurt him for nothing.

ANGEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! get you a friend who will break a strangers ribs for flirting with your man and get in a shower with their shoes on just because SOMEONE needs to hold you!!!!

THE SOFTNESS OF THE ENDDDDD :( :( :( :( i love them so much :( :( :(

i genuinely cant wait for the rest of these and i will harass you until have them OKAY BYE

Baby (k.sy)

Pairing: Soongyoung x f. reader

Summary: Soonyoung had been in your life for as long as you can remember. You haven’t spoken since your wedding to someone who isn’t him, but when you uncover your husband’s plans to turn against your family, you don’t know who else to call.  

Word Count: 29,988

Genre: Mafiaverse, Cyberpunk, Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers

Type: Smut, Heavy Angst

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Full warnings available under the cut.

A/N: This fic was posted on my original blog which has been deleted. I am now reposting it. I hope it does half as well as it did when I originally posted this story - thank you to everyone who left amazing feedback the first time. It genuinely made me so happy and I am so sorry that it got sent to the moon where I can no longer read it.

A/N 2:  Thank you @daechwitatamic and @eoieopda for beta-reading this fic.

Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Tag List Request Form | Ask | Playlist

Warnings: Graphic violence generally associated with mafia behavior, mentions of murder and blood, morally grey characters, themes of codependency (a little bit), a bit of a toxic relationship with Soonyoung and reader at times (they like to make each other jealous), bar fights, women being very petty, recreational drinking and drug use, heavy angst, depictions of death (funerals for parents), fight scene that ends in death in a domestic situation, difficult relationships with parents, reader and her husband have a terrible relationship and hate each other, depictions of blood and stabbing in one scene (it is the most graphic scene in the whole fic but kept short), reader agonizes over decisions she's made and struggles mentally with a lot of it, depiction of a full blown anxiety attack, sexually explicit content including fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, crying during sex, a lot of making out and biting, multiple orgasms... sorry this is so long, I want to over-warn for everything happening here so if I have missed something you think needs to be warned, please tell me!

Kwon Soonyoung is crying the first time you meet him. It’s a loud, warbling cry that you’re not used to, and you flinch at the pitch as you hide behind your mother. Soonyoung and his mother are standing in the grand foyer of your home, his fists twisted in her tweed skirt as he begs her not to leave him. 

His mother sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. You’ve seen her around before on the arm of her husband at your family dinner parties and for afternoon tea with your mom. This is the first time you’ve seen Soonyoung, though, and you’re unimpressed as his shrieking only gets louder when she crouches down to look him in the eye fondly, brushing the tears from his face. 

You don’t know a lot of other kids, but the noisiness of him startles you. Unsettles you. Sensing your unease, your mother reaches to pull you from behind her, giving you a single look that you know means please behave. You straighten immediately, turning to watch the sniffling boy as he calms down. 

Soonyoung is round-cheeked, his dark eyes swollen and face reddened from working himself up. His mother murmurs something to him and he nods, wiping the snot from his face with the back of his hand.

Seungcheol must notice the crying has stopped. He appears from the kitchen, giving Soonyoung an unimpressed once over as he strides toward you and your mother. She clucks her tongue at the cheek of her eleven year old, giving him a hard look. 

“Seungcheol, don’t be rude,” she admonishes. “Greet our guests properly.” 

Your older brother glances at you and you lift a shoulder. He’s going to lead the family one day, it’s important for him to show manners. You know this even at a young age - have always known what his place is among your family, what your place is. 

Cheol is in line to become the Tower of the Choi Syndicate, an empire that you cannot fathom at your age but you know is important. You are its insurance, a second heir if something happens to the first and a bargaining chip for future partnerships. A potential logician, if you’re good enough. 

Turning to Soonyoung and his mother, Seungcheol bows politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Soonyoung. Are you here to play video games?” 

Soonyoung perks up at that, looking at his mom, eyes going round. She grins and nods her head, pulling her hands from where they rest on his shoulders. “He is,” she agrees. “We thought it might be good for you to become friends.” Her gaze drifts to you. “All three of you.” 

That makes you frown. You don’t really like playing video games. Seungcheol never lets you win and forces you to play for hours in exchange for him letting you borrow his AetherLink at night to scroll the internet. You’re not allowed to have one yet, even though you’re only four years younger and all of your other friends have them to enter virtual chat rooms and play online games.  

“Do I have to?” you ask your mom, looking up at her. 

“Yes,” she says firmly, gently nudging you by the shoulder toward where your brother is not so patiently waiting to escort you to the gaming room. “Go.” 

“Why don’t you want to play?” Soonyoung asks, pouting a little.

“I’m not any good.”

“That’s okay. I’ll let you beat me.” 

Seungcheol moans. “Ugh, don’t let her win. Come on. I got the new Grid Fighters game on the Reality Rift console!” 

“No way!” 

Seungcheol grins and shoots off toward the gaming room, Soonyoung hot on his heels. You hesitate for a moment, staring after them with indignation. Soonyoung stops at the doorway, turning to you. His face is still ruddy from crying, but he’s suddenly smiling, cheeks round and smooth.

“Come on,” he whispers. “I’ll let you win, I promise.” 

“Holy fuck, can you let me win for once?” Soonyoung groans, rolling over on the mat. He’s dripping in sweat, wiping it away from his brow as he stands with effort. 

Grinning, you skip away from him, reaching for your water bottle. Music pounds through the speakers of the training room. Overhead, the blue neon casts an eerie glow over the two of you. Seungcheol ignores you both in favor of using the weight machines in the far corner of the room. 

On the far wall, your health and fitness data is displayed, each one of your bodies outlined and flashing as new data comes in. Right now, you’re in the red zone, heart pounding hard from your bout with Soonyoung, who is in the orange zone. 

Which confirms your suspicion that he’s not trying as hard as he could be. 

“Maybe if you weren’t afraid to actually hit me,” you offer. The water helps cool you down as you eye Soonyoung. Even at fourteen, he’s started to fill out his form more, arms corded as he hones himself into a weapon. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

Seungcheol scoffs from across the room. Maybe he wasn’t totally ignoring the two of you. He drops his cool-older-kid act to turn and grumble, “He’d put you on your ass, Baby. Lucky for you, he always lets you win.” 

The nickname makes you bristle. You hate when people point out that you’re the baby of the family, like you’re something less than or incapable of keeping pace. You especially hate it when Seungcheol uses it to put you in your place, reminding you that one day your shithead older brother is going to be leading the family business. 

The family business is the reason you spar with them at all. Occasionally Vernon joins, though those days are as unpredictable as his appearances. Usually when he’s over at your house, it’s never a good thing. His arrivals are always bracketed with the sound of his father’s manic yelling and his mother’s frantic begging, followed closely by slammed doors and your father’s calming voice. 

Today it’s just the three of you, though. Soonyoung comes over and sits on the mat by your feet, holding a hand up to you. You pass him your water bottle, rolling your eyes at him even though it doesn’t really bother you. 

Nothing Soonyoung does really bothers you. Since that first day he showed up at your house sobbing because his mother was leaving him for the day, he’s grown on you. More than grown on you, in fact. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t noticed your lingering gazes and the way he flusters you when he gets too close, and you hope to keep it that way. 

“I don’t want to hit you,” Soonyoung offers gently, voice low over the metal clang of Seuncheol’s weights. “And it’s not ‘cause I don’t think you can’t take it,” he adds with a grin, bumping his shoulder against your leg. “I just don’t like the idea of you getting hurt.” 

“Everyone treats me like a baby.” 

“You are. But it’s not a bad thing. For example, you say jump and everyone says how high. Even my dad.” 

That makes you smirk a little. You look at the floor, letting his words wash over you. They do ring true - there’s no one in the Syndicate who would deny you anything, and though you’re utterly terrified of Soonyoung’s dad, he would do anything for you. In a way, it was the Kwon family’s divine purpose to be by the side of the Chois. 

“What about you?” you ask. 

“What about me?” 

“Jump.”

Soonyoung grins and sets the water bottle down, getting up to his feet at your command. “How high, Baby?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t shed a tear on the day of his parents’ funeral. He’s a far cry from the little boy who showed up at your house to play video games and become friends. 

Instead, he sits in silence, eyes raging - always raging, now. You don’t think the fury stops, his gaze burning the entire ceremony. His grip on your hand is like iron, and after a while, your arm tingles with pins and needles. You say nothing, willing to endure. Eventually, your arm goes numb entirely, and he keeps holding your hand. 

Afterward, Soonyoung says nothing. You do the talking for him, accepting the hand shakes and bows on his behalf when he doesn’t reach out to accept them, thanking those who have come to offer him condolences and respect when he doesn’t speak.

His grip on you is steadfast. Iron and fire. Even when your father drops his gaze down with a look of disapproval, Soonyoung doesn’t let go and you don’t ask him to. If there’s any day that you can break decorum and tradition, it’s certainly now in the wake of Soonyoung’s loss. 

They don’t need to know you’d let him hold you anyway.  

The boy who existed before the murder of his parents is dead. You knew it before the funeral. But when the last guest finally leaves the Choi Estate and Soonyoung doesn’t shed a tear, you realize it isn’t just his parents that you’ve buried. 

The sweet, gentle boy who had cried those tears for fear of his mother leaving him has died too. And you don’t think you’ll ever see him again. 

-

“You want me to do what?” Soonyoung asks, pulling you into his room and looking out the cracked door to make sure no one else is around. “Where is your brother?” 

“I have no idea.” 

“You can’t just- ” Soonyoung fumbles for words as he shuts the door and takes a few steps past you into his room proper. It’s dark, safe for the glow of his AetherLink glowing with a paused video game. “Did he see you follow me up here?” 

“Why are you being weird? I’m in here all the time. You live here.” 

“I’m being weird? You just asked me to kiss you. Neither your brother nor your dad want you in my room in the middle of the night.” 

You frown. “Since when? Look, I’m sixteen and I’ve never been kissed, and Lin just lost her virginity to Jeonghan. What happened to when I say jump you say how high?”

“Oh don’t start with me. Who cares if Lin is giving it up to Jeonghan. She blew Wonwoo like two weeks ago. It’s not a competition.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, caving in on yourself a little. Maybe it was a stupid idea to ask Soonyoung after all. But you can’t get over the way all of the other girls were clinging to Lin’s every word as she spilled the details of sleeping with Jeonghan. Everyone else in your friends group had at least made out with boys - you had nothing. 

Being the daughter of the leader of the Choi Syndicate has its benefits. Being accessible to do things like kissing boys and going out with your friends to new cool clubs like Echo Space and Hyper Vibe were not one of them. Getting any of the boys your age to even look you in the eye was impossible, the fear of catching the wrath of Seungcheol and your father looming over them like the Sword of Damocles. 

Soonyoung is Soonyoung, though. Your father has brought him into the fold like one of his own, keeping his oath to Soonyoung’s parents to always watch over him and protect him. You’re old enough now to understand that the bonds between higher members of the Syndicate are bonds of faith and blood, of family and something more. 

If anyone shouldn’t be afraid to kiss you, it’s Soonyoung. He lives down the hall from you, and he’s best friends with your brother. It wouldn’t be that weird. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you lay awake in your bed at night while you stared at the ceiling, fingers trailing your lips. 

Now, you’re not so sure. The way Soonyoung recoils makes you realize you hadn’t thought of the single most important thing before marching in here and asking him to be your first kiss: maybe Soonyoung didn’t want to kiss you. 

It hadn’t even crossed your mind - one of the many downsides to getting mostly everything you wanted. You’re so infrequently told no that in the light of rejection, you don’t know what to do, recoiling like you’ve been mortally wounded. 

Nodding your head, you turn away from Soonyoung, throat tightening as the new wave of emotions threatens to spill over. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” 

“Baby,” he sighs. You ignore him, bolting for the door. Soonyoung is fast, though. He snatches your arm and drags you back toward him, though you turn your face away from him to hide the evidence of oncoming tears. “Don’t be like that.” 

“I’m not being like anything. It was a stupid favor to ask.” 

“Would you look at me?”

“No.”

He sighs heavily. “Why are you being so difficult?”

Trying to wrench your arm from his hold is useless. He’s not hurting you, but the grip on your bicep is firm. “Well if I’m so difficult then let me go.”

“Baby.” The frustration in his voice is evident. You ignore the way your nickname rolls off his tongue, the way he’s the only person you don’t absolutely hate the name from. 

“Just let me go!” 

“No. Why do you want me to kiss you?”

The question is like nails against chalkboard now, your embarrassment peaking. “Forget I even asked, just let me go!” 

“Fuck - are you crying?”

“No.”

“Baby, look at me.”

Too afraid that the wavering in your voice will give you away, you shake your head, refusing to turn and face him. With a growl, he gives a sharp tug on your arm, spinning you toward him. You let out a noise of protest, ready to lash out at him again when you feel his mouth on yours. 

Startled, you don’t do anything at first. Soonyoung’s grip is still on your bicep, firm and steadfast. Your eyes blink for a second before they flutter closed, unsure exactly what to do beyond lean into him a little, pressing your lips firmer to his. 

It’s somehow exactly what you expected and totally unexpected at the same time. Soonyoung’s mouth is softer than you were ready for, slotted gently against yours. He’s warm and smells like vanilla and sandalwood, a scent you’ve grown familiar with. Your thoughts peter out, enjoying the way he holds you to him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. 

When Soonyoung pulls away, you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, your breath shaky. He doesn’t pull back very far, looking down at you with a dark gaze. This close, you can see the real Soonyoung. His expression is soft, eyes sparkling in the blue light of his room. He looks so young suddenly, all of the rage and wrath that lurks under the surface of the calm mask he wears gone for just a moment. 

“You have pretty eyes,” you whisper. His mouth twitches at the corner, an almost smile. “I’ve always thought you had beautiful eyes.” 

He opens and closes his mouth again, trying to find words. You wait him out, heart thudding. He’s still holding you close to him, fingers digging desperately into your arm. 

Footsteps thundering up the stairs wake him from his daze, Seungcheol calling your name. Soonyoung drops his hand and steps away from you, a cool mask of calm sliding into place, the vulnerability gone in an instant. “There’s your kiss,” he murmurs. “Is there anything else you need from me or do I need to jump too?” 

Synth pulses through you, vibrating your very bones as you lounge on the velvet couch in a private section of the club. The lights above you are hazy, but you can make out the shapes of holographic dancers, their graphics so high definition that you can see the sweat beading down their bare backs. 

From the VIP section, you have the perfect view of the DJ platform. Screens flash behind it, holographic wonders of creatures and places and visuals flashing brightly. Writhing bodies twist on the dancefloor around the DJ like a pit of snakes. Among them, you know your father’s Taps slither among the crowd, pushing drugs and psychedelics into the hands of those who can afford it. 

A trained eye can spot a Tap well enough. Though they blend in with the nylon and leather of the partiers, they tend to be sharp eyed and lucid, chewing on stim pops or some other substance to keep them awake and alert. 

It’s not the drug dealers in the crowd who keep drawing your attention, though. You shouldn’t be able to spot Soonyoung in the mass of bodies so easily, but you do. His hair is bleached, reflecting the flashing lights around him as he presses in close to the girl attached to him, hips swaying.

Your mouth sours. Leaning forward you snatch one of the bottles from the ice bucket and pour a shot into a crystal glass. Angel raises her brows as you slide the glass over to her and pour another for yourself. She’s not much of a drinker, but she takes the glass wordlessly, sensing your need to have a partner in crime.

Knocking it back, you hiss as the liquor burns all the way back. Even the high grade alcohol is like fire, washing away your irritation for a dizzy moment, veins buzzing. Leaning back, your eyes scan the crowd and settle on Soonyoung again. This time, he’s leading his partner through the crowd and toward the stairs. The stairs that lead to you. 

Seungcheol and Wonwoo crashing onto the seat next to you breaks your concentration. Seungcheol’s pupils are wide as saucers, eyes trailing upward to dance at the visual of a woman with pink skin sliding out of her top. 

Next to him, Wonwoo pulls a small bag with glittering dust from his pocket, shaking it to settle all of the contents at the bottom before unsealing the top. The way the powder glows against the lights tells you its high quality frostbyte, a powerful stimulant named for the biting feeling when inhaled. 

Instead of yelling over the music, you gesture toward the bag, catching Wonwoo’s attention. He gives you a surprised look followed by a wolfish grin. Wonwoo loves when you partake in partying harder, a side everyone so rarely sees from you. 

Sliding a knife from his pocket, you watch with rapt attention as Wonwoo dips it into the baggie, scooping delicately. You’d rather he cut lines on the table, but you’ll take what you can get, watching as he expertly fishes out a decent sized amount for you to take. 

You’re mutely aware that a group of bodies enters your section. Vernon throws himself down next to Angel, jostling you both as you lean over Seungcheol’s half-asleep form toward where Wonwoo extends the knife toward you carefully. You ignore the weight of Soonyoung’s eyes on you as he, Mingyu and a group of girls sit down and reach to fill their glasses with liquor. 

Wonwoo’s hands are steady as he holds the tip of his blade out to you, a hand held underneath to catch any powder that slips off the blade. Careful not to lose your balance and stab yourself, you level your face with the knife, inhaling sharply. 

Immediately the drug bites the back of your throat, eyes watering as you tilt your head upwards and blink for a second, letting it settle. Sniffing harshly a few times, you clear your nasal passage and blow out a breath, feeling the softest beginning of a tingle as you look at Wonwoo, who is still holding his hands out to you. 

“Thanks,” you nod. He grins and pulls back, rubbing the excess powder along his gums as you fall heavily against the back of the booth. 

Turning to look at your brother, you elbow him. “Are you alive?”

“Mhmm,” he grunts, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. Lights dance across his face, all pinks and blues and purples as he breathes in heavily. “I am fucked right now. Can you get me a stim pop from Hoshi? If I do anymore frostbyte I’m gonna get a nosebleed. Again.” 

Actually, asking Soonyoung for anything is the last thing you want to do. However, your brother does look like he needs to wake up, the mess of drugs and alcohol in his system working overtime to put him on his ass. Stim pops are a quick fix, a careful mix of sweet candy and methylphenidate to wake up the nervous system. Soongyoung always has them on his person, especially for when he works late night shifts. 

Turning in the booth, you’re smacked with a wave of color. For a moment, you drink it in, tilting your head upward as the figures dancing above explode into a world of lavender butterflies. They’re utterly captivating, your eyes watching them twist and dance in the air as they flutter. 

A laugh bubbles from your lips, entirely childlike. Grinning, you watch them for a few moments more before they disintegrate into stars, entire solar systems hovering and floating through the space above your head.

Seungcheol elbowing you breaks you from your concentration. Right. Stim pop. From Soonyoung. Glancing at the man in question makes your stomach plummet. Soonyoung’s head is resting against the back of the booth, the girl next to him draped over him with her mouth pressed hot to his throat, her teeth overly white in the blacklight of the club. 

A surge of rage shivers through you, your nails scratching across the green velvet, leaving marks in their wake. Leaning forward, you reach out a hand and smack Vernon’s knee to get his attention. He turns his lazy gaze on you, brows raised. When you point at Soonyoung, he nods and yells over his shoulder to get your target’s attention.

Soonyoung’s eyes flutter open and flick to where you’re sitting. He drinks in your expression before muttering something to the woman mouthing at his neck and peels her off, standing up and shuffling over to you. Angel makes room for him, all but sliding into Vernon’s lap as Soonyoung crashes down on the couch next to you. 

“Hi, Baby. What’s up?” 

“Cheol needs a stim pop,” you answer curtly, leaning away from him. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood laced with alcohol. Soonyoung is so close you can feel his body heat, his breath fanning across your bare shoulder as he moves to look at Seungcheol half asleep on your other side. “Then you can go back to your little public sex session.” 

Soonyoung makes an angry cat noise, narrowing his eyes at you as he smirks. He leans toward you further to reach into his pocket, shoulder pressed against you. His scent fills your nose, heady and familiar. You’re dizzy with it, the touch of his warmth against your skin making you flush.

Suddenly, his nearness is overwhelming. Every hair on the back of your neck stands on end, your skin hypersensitive to the way he leans against you. The glow of the lights is sharper than you remember, and you swear you feel the blood rushing through your body.

A response that could be either because of the drugs you inhaled a moment ago or because Soonyoung is pressed against you and you have the sudden urge to lean into him, to feel his warmth, to press your lips against his and feel their softness. 

In an attempt to save yourself from the trap, you shove back at him. He huffs, glaring at you as he fishes a stim pop out of his pocket and hands it over to you. You’re careful to avoid his touch when you snatch it from his nimble fingers, turning your back on him in the booth to look at Seungcheol.

“Why are you being a brat?” His voice is loud over the music, shouted into your ear as he tilts back into your space again. You can feel the warmth of him on your back. 

“Go away.”

“Baby, please don’t start with me.”

“I’m not starting fuck with you.” 

Seungcheol cracks an eye open to observe your argument with a look of interest. Seungcheol’s pupils are dilated like moons, totally empty of any coherent thought. You peel the wrapper off the stim pop, careful to hold it by the cardboard stick as you pop it into your brother’s mouth. 

For a few moments, your brother lolls the candy around his mouth, sucking greedily. Then, he blinks his eyes open, pupils narrowing as he drinks in the lights and the clubs. He sighs in relief, patting your thigh gratefully as the stimulant chases away whatever else is washing him out.

When you turn around, Soonyoung is still lingering, his dark eyes fierce and focused only on you. He looks good tonight. He looks good every night. He has become your picture perfect torture since that night you asked him to be your first kiss, kickstarting something you were incapable of foreseeing. 

The bleached hair is new and you hate how much you like it. The silvery strands look just as soft as his natural black, and it’s a nice contrast to his dark eyes and sharp cheekbones. Those stormy eyes are staring at you now, something playful that you don’t like glittering under the surface. 

He pouts at you. “Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you. Go away!”

“You definitely are. What did I do, hmm? Tell me.” 

“Please fuck off.” 

He rolls his eyes, peeling himself off the couch and muttering something under his breath. You’re sure he has nothing nice to say, so you sink further into the couch, crossing your hands over your chest as you sulk. 

Sticky air clings to your skin. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, the music vibrating your ribcage. Your anger is like a monster given life, fueled by the frostbyte and the feverish anger taking root in your stomach as Soonyoung settles back in his spot, pressing his mouth sloppily to the woman next to him. 

And that’s the problem, really. It’s not you that is pressing your mouth to his jaw while he leans against the back of the seat. It isn’t you running manicured nails down the front of his shirts, pulling at buttons despite the audience. 

It isn’t you and it should be. You want it to be.

It’s been two years since Soonyoung kissed you for the first time in his room. You’ve had more experience with other people since then, but it dulls in comparison to his simple kiss. You hate it. What you hate even more is how childish it makes you feel, embarrassment heating your cheeks and throat when he catches your gaze across the booth and you divert your attention. 

For the second time, Soonyoung peels the girl off of him, making like he’s going to get up and come sit next to you again. This time, his companion keeps him rooted to the spot, her nails digging into his forearm as she hisses something at him. He groans, head tilted back like he’s once again the most inconvenienced man in the room. 

Wanting nothing more than to blot him out, you call Wonwoo’s name again, leaning forward heavily for more frostbyte. Soonyoung whistles and snaps his finger in your direction as though to tell you no. You bristle, your anger turning to an inferno, burning up inside of you. 

Vernon and Angel both cringe, leaning out of your line of fire as you swivel to angle yourself toward Soonyoung, hands shaking. “Don’t fucking whistle and snap at me! I’m not a dog.”

“Baby, you don’t need more. Your pupils are the size of Mingyu’s big ass head.”

Mingyu, though right next to Soonyoung, doesn’t hear the insult, his tongue being sucked down the throat of the girl sitting in his lap, hips grinding on him. Another girl is pressed to his side, teeth nipping at his jaw. At least someone is having fun, you think, the three of them totally aware of the crackling tension in their booth. 

The girl attached to Soonyoung’s neck a moment ago bristles when she hears your nickname. “Baby?” she asks, face scrunching. “Are you serious?”

“Chill out, Victra. It’s her nickname.”

“Yeah,” you agree, shooting her a venomous look, despite her doing nothing to earn your ire. “Chill, Victra.”

Once again, you turn your back on Soonyoung, standing and scooting Seungcheol over to swap places with him. He does so with a keen eye, watching the scene unfold as he sucks his lollipop happily, content to watch the drama. 

Wonwoo dips his knife into the bag as you settle in next to him, bouncing with excitement. “I love when you do drugs, you’re so much fun.” 

“I don’t feel very fun right now.”

“Drugs will fix it!” 

“Wonwoo, don’t you dare give her that,” Soonyoung warns. He pries Victra’s hands off of him, leaning forward as though to reach across the table. 

“Ignore him,” you insist. 

Wonwoo hesitates, stuck between a rock and a hard place. The last thing he wants to do is tell you no. No one but your father and older brother get to tell you no. Wonwoo knows this better than most people. But he also doesn’t want to cross Soonyoung, a venture nearly as dangerous as pissing off Seungcheol. 

Soonyoung hisses at the girl next to him,  “Stop clawing at me! Baby, please stop being stubborn for one moment. Just one. ”

“Why the fuck did you even bring me up here?” Victra interrupts, ignoring Soonyoung’s plea. “You’ve done nothing but fawn over her since we got here. This isn’t fun.” 

Soonyoung ignores her. “If you’re mad at me, be mad at me. Stop blowing shit up your nose to prove a point and be a bitch, though.”

“I’m not proving fuck, Soonyoung. And Victra’s right, go fuck her in the bathroom or something and stop telling me what to do.”

“So it is about her?” 

“I have a name!” The her in question snaps. You turn around, temper flaring as you level your glare at her. She turns her nose up at you as she says, “It’s obvious you’re bothered he brought me here. Your jealousy is insufferable.” 

“Ding, ding ding,” Seungcheol imitates a bell. You turn around to look at Victra. “Round one! Fight!”

It takes a second for Victra’s words to land. It’s like each one hits you a second apart, packing their own punch as you register them. The pulsing music around you fades to a dull roar as you stare at her, seeing the way her lips twitch upward as she realizes she’s right. You are jealous that Soonyoung brought her up here. 

Victra’s grin is all it takes for you to spill over. Before you can register what you’re doing, you’re out of your seat and leaping over the table at her, knocking over glasses and bottles. Wonwoo cheers in delight behind you as your brother catches you by the waist, trying to keep you on your side of the booth as you tear at his hands to get across the booth. 

Seeing the attack of opportunity while you��re subdued, Victra shoots to her feet. Angel is fast as an adder, one moment sitting in Vernon’s lap and the next striking Victra down into the booth, knee planted in her stomach. Vernon does nothing to stop his girlfriend, opting instead to reach for a water bottle, unscrewing it to take a sip as his girlfriend pins Victra down to the seat with little effort. 

Noticing for the first time that their friend is in distress, the two women with Mingyu lift their heads. As soon as one starts to slide from his lap to reach for Angel, you kick a foot out, striking the bucket of alcohol and ice. The bucket goes flying at her, hitting her hard in the face. She screams, crumbling in Mingyu’s lap, cradling her face. 

Mingyu and Soonyoung are on their feet in seconds, soaked from the waist down and trying to gain control of the situation as it spirals. Mingyu becomes a blockade between Victra’s two friends, trying to keep them on their side of the booth. Soonyoung is prying a bottle from a hand before it can make its way toward you, yelling something indecipherable. 

Angel is still pressing her knee deep into Victra’s gut. Victra’s attention has diverted from you entirely as she screams like a wounded animal, pushing and scratching at Angel’s knee to try and get her off. You’re sure it hurts, but Angel doesn’t budge, sinking her weight into it. 

Leaning down, you grab something to lob at them - someone’s shoe - but Seungcheol manages to haul you off your feet and spin you, planting you into the booth behind him. You growl, shoving at his legs to move him out of the way, trying to re-engage. 

“Fucking hell,” he grunts. “Are you fucking juicing? Why are you so strong?”

“It’s the drugs,” Wonwoo offers unhelpfully. “Really top of the line drugs.”

“Shut up, Wonwoo!” Both you and Seungcheol bark at the same time. 

Wonwoo holds up his hands, leaning back into the seat as he watches the mess unfold with a delighted grin. You strike out with your foot, slamming against the booth’s table, shoving it in Soonyoung’s direction. You hear glass shatter as more things fall off the table, clattering to the ground. There are shrieks and curses that you can’t see with Seungcheol blocking the way. 

“He’s a fucking asshole!” You seethe to your brother, panting with rage. 

“He is, and you did exactly what he wanted you to do.” You try to kick the table again but he stops you, grabbing your knee. You feel like you can’t get enough air, sweat slicking your skin and the velvet of the couch too sharp against your flesh. “Soonyoung loves a fight when he’s fucked up. You know that.” 

“Well fuck him!”

He pulls the stick from his mouth, candied stim gone. He tosses it onto the floor and looks over his shoulder where Mingyu and Soonyoung are corralling the three women out of the booth. “God, Angel  broke that girl's rib I think. Hahahha!” 

“I want to break her fucking face!” 

“I think you broke her friend's face. She is fucked up. That bucket hit her right in the eye. What a shot.” 

“If you’re so entertained, why’d you get in my way?”

“There’s a lot of eyes here.” You glance around, noticing other booths looking at you, people ducking toward one another to whisper. “You have an image to maintain.” 

Adjusting your shirt, you settle back into the booth. “Alright. Alright I’m good.”

When Seungcheol moves out of the way to take a seat, Soonyoung replaces him. You glare up at him, feeling your anger curl up in you again. His lips twitch, a hint of a smirk as he sits down next to you, sighing heavily and tilting his head to look up at the flashing lights.

The girls are nowhere to be found. Angel is sitting back down next to Vernon who hasn’t moved, and there are servers picking up the mess you made. Mingyu is notably absent, though you can guess where he’s gone for the night. He’s good at making scorned lovers feel better about their bad luck. 

“Jealousy is crazy on you,” Soonyoung notes, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he glances at you sidelong. “I kind of like it.” 

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” you warn. He laughs, the fight totally leaving him. “I’m serious. Don’t ever do that to me again, Soonyoung. Not to me.” 

“Alright, alright. When you say jump, right?” 

Soonyoung’s fingers brush against yours. Just the rough feeling of his calluses against the tips of your fingers has you shivering, anger replaced with want. He doesn’t take your hand, doesn’t move to do anything else but lean back in silence with your fingers touching. 

Resigned, you say nothing else to him. You’d got what you wanted - sort of - even if you know you made an ass out of yourself doing it. It isn’t the first time he’s made you jealous, but it is the first time it’s boiled over so violently. 

You remind yourself not to do frostbyte when you’re mad anymore.

You turn your attention to where Angel is snorting frostbyte up her nose off of her boyfriend’s phone, accidentally turning on the hologram as she does, her face suddenly caged by green screen data. You call her name gently. She looks up at you, pupils blown, reflecting the lights dancing above like dark glass. “Thanks,” you offer. 

Her grin is too wide, teeth too white. She reminds you of a demon more than she does an angel. “Anytime.” 

When you settle back in, you glance at Soonyoung once. He looks down at you, smirking a single time before he leans into you and rests his head on your shoulder. You feel him melt into you, sighing as his eyes close and he nuzzles a little closer. You put your hand on his thigh, squeezing once before you leave it there, feeling the heat of his skin through his pants.

It isn’t until he’s almost asleep, pressed as close as possible to you that you realize maybe he got what he wanted too. 

Rain washes over the black city, the mist turning the thousands of digital and holographic advertisements into a watercolor smear of neon. It smells wet and like rot, the drains overworked and belching water and trash back out into the street as you walk, feet splashing. 

You quickly duck out of the way of a group of rowdy men spilling from a bar. You can smell the drink on them, their feet sloshing in the rising water of the street as they dredge toward the next bar. They whistle at the pretty girls dressed in light up raincoats and flickering green contacts, stumbling toward a brothel instead of the bar. 

Gripping your umbrella tighter, you quicken your steps. Grease smoke drifts toward you from various hawker carts, the sizzle of meat making your stomach growl. You ignore them, knowing you have dinner with your family later as you take a corner and plunge into the darkness of an underground stairwell. 

The LEDs on your umbrella cast a pink light as you descend the stairs, careful not to slip on the caked grime. Two guards stand outside metal double doors, music pulsing faintly behind it. They look you up and down, ready to deny entry until you state your name at the bottom of the steps. 

“ID?” the one on the right asks, giving you a critical eye. 

Of course he doesn't believe you. The daughter of the Tower would never walk anywhere without a body guard, especially in this part of the city. You spin the umbrella, the pink coalescing as he takes the phone from your hand and taps it, blue lighting up his face when your ID and profile appear in holographic data above the screen. 

He clears his throat and bows at the waist. When his counterpart doesn’t, he smacks him hard on the back, making the man lean over. “Apologies, Miss Choi. Right this way.” 

Music hits you full on when the doors open, the base creating static in the air. You cringe as it vibrates through your ribcage and teeth, wondering how anyone could stand to be in a club this loud. Popping the umbrella shut, you let your eyes adjust while one security guard remains at the door, shutting it behind you, and the other hands you your ID.

“Should I escort you to the office, Miss?” 

Writhing bodies dance together, scintillating like snakes in a pit. Above them, lasers and holograms light up the world with flashes of colors you didn’t even know existed. A wide bar stretches to the left of the floor, lit up by soft cyan lights. Behind it, the bartenders move in a blur, the glow on their clothes turning them ethereal. 

You glance at the security guard, who waits patiently before shaking your head. You point to the space above the bar where there are two large, mirrored windows looking out into the club. “Up there?”

“Yes,” he answers, hesitating. “Let me escort you.” 

With a roll of your eyes you nod, gesturing to him to lead the way. He clears a path, clubbers and workers alike moving out of his way when he shoves them. You walk behind him, swinging your head from side-to-side as you look at the people, fascinated. 

People with spikes pierced in their skin and whorling tattoos with glow ink stare back at you, glowing contact lenses and gemmed teeth all taking you in. You rarely get to mix in with the crowd that partakes in more unique cosmetic alterations and fashion, fascinated by someone who walks by with red glowing face tattoos like a demon mask. 

At the foot of the stairs, the guard lets you walk up first. It’s clear of people, so he remains standing at the bottom, taking up an imposing position with his hands linked in front of him, blocking the stairway entirely. 

The thud of music vibrates through your boots as you climb the stairs, greeting another security guard. You can tell he’s already been warned you’re here - he bows immediately and keys in the pad at the door, opening the office for you. 

You pass by him airily, stepping into the dry and much cooler office. The door closes behind you, immediately cutting off the sound with high–tech sound proofing. Soonyoung is leaning against the bar, his back to the door as he watches out the windows, a glass in his hand. 

“What in the fuck are you doing?” he asks, tossing you a look over his shoulder. You grin, skipping over to him. He doesn’t grin back, looking you up and down as you join him. You reach for the decanter he’s drinking from but he smacks your hand, viper fast. “Not a chance.”

“What? Why not?”

“You shouldn’t be here, much less without a security team. The Tower will be livid.” 

“The Tower doesn’t have to know.”

Soonyoung’s jaw flexes. “The security team will tell him you were here.”

“Not if you tell them not to.”

“Baby,” he sighs, tilting his head up and closing his eyes. You lean against the bar, watching him. The lights from the club are dimmer in here, but they flash against his face, painting him in golden light. He’s beautiful. “What are you doing here?”

“Angel said you had a bad day.”

“I always have a bad day. And tell Angel to shut her mouth.”

You snort. “You tell her that.”

That gets a grin out of him. He lowers his head, dark gaze finding yours. “You can’t just walk around the Lower City without a personal guard, Baby.”

“I’m not helpless.”

“I know you’re not. I’m not either but people try to rob me all the time. You, on the other hand, are a lot prettier of a prize than I am.” 

“So you think I’m pretty?��

This time when Soonyoung sighs, it’s affectionate. He sips his glass of amber liquid, turning to watch the crowd outside the office. He holds out his glass to you, a concession. You grin further, accepting it from him and bring it up to your nose to smell. You don’t know anything about liquor, but from the spiced scent you can tell it’s good quality.

You take a tiny sip. It goes down smooth - strong, but good and warm. Instead of giving him the glass back, you cradle it to your chest, leaning against the bar next to him close enough that your arms are almost touching. He continues looking out at the crowd, keen eyes serious and back to work while you look at him. 

Soonyoung is beautiful. His side profile is lethal, the slope of his neck elegant, the curve of his jaw sharp but delicate, his high cheekbones catching the light. His eyes are dark pools, reflecting the snatches of light that come through the dark windows. 

“Did you come here to stare at me?” he asks, never taking his eyes off the crowd. 

“What if I said I did?” 

His mouth twitches at the corner. “Unfortunately I would believe you.”

Watching over clubs isn’t usually Soonyoung’s job. But this club is in a terrible part of the city and isn’t worth much to the Choi Syndicate, so sometimes he’s awarded the opportunity to prove himself to your father and to the elders of the Syndicate that he’s competent and capable of leadership, despite the fact you’ve always known him to be. 

Soonyoung isn’t meant for leading like Seungcheol. But there is a certain level of loyalty and understanding he has to cultivate with the heavies of the family, the Swords who carry out the bloody tasks of removing people from the way and keeping assets safe. His father had been the Sentinel of your family for years until his death, and Soonyoung is expected to pick up that mantle.

This is all a part of that. Soonyoung already has the loyalty of the security team running this hole in the wall, alerting him the second you arrived and refusing to let you go up the stairs alone. Had they failed to do that, you might think a little less of them. 

Soonyoung also probably would have had them beaten. 

Finally, Soonyoung turns to look at you. He sighs and raises his brows expectantly. 

“What?” you ask. 

“What did you come here for? Real answer, this time.” 

“I told you. Angel said you had a bad day. That is my real answer.”

“And?”

You shrug, sipping from the glass and turning toward the windows. “I wanted to make it a better one.” 

That makes him go silent. You can see him turn to look at you, his stormy gaze pinning you to the spot. You don’t look at him, letting him stare as you nurse the drink and watch the dancing crowd down below. They’re beautiful, in a way, an ocean of bodies saying as colors turn them blue and then green and then bright red and then lavender. 

Soonyoung leans toward you, bumping his head on yours lightly. That gets a laugh out of you, stomach fluttering and wishing he would stay leaned against you. He pulls away though, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his eyes back to his job. 

“Thank you,” he finally says, voice quiet. “It is already a better day.” 

The silence is comfortable. You eventually give him the drink back and he takes it, tongue darting out to lick the lip gloss you left. He hums. “Cherries.” 

“You’re gross.” 

He smiles into the glass, taking a sip. “I actually have something for you.” 

“A present?”

He snorts. “Not exactly. Go to the desk - top drawer on the right.” 

Eagerly, you do as he says. The heavy wooden desk sits in the back of the room, imposing even without the metal lockers behind it with weapons. You ignore the heavy guns under padlocks and go for the drawer in question. 

A rectangular box is in the drawer Soonyoung specified, unmarked. You turn it over in your hands, curious. It’s not very heavy and fits mostly in your palm. 

“Bring it over here.” 

You do, trailing back to Soonyoung. He extends his hand and you pass it over to him, watching with interest as he cracks the box open with the sheer strength of his fingers. He pulls out a small device, a wire and what looks to be a plug, tossing the box to the bar. 

“Do you know what this is?” he asks, holding up the device. 

It’s a small rectangle with a keypad and a screen. You raise your brows in surprise. “It is a very old phone.” 

“It is.” He smiles, pleased with your answer. He passes the materials over to you and you hold them against your chest. “That’s the charger and the charging cord. It’s one of the old kinds of phones that requires a phone tower. There are barely any in the city.” 

“And what is this gift for?” 

“I own the phone towers that support it.” You raise your brows. Soonyoung rarely spends the inheritance his parents left behind, so you’re surprised. “It only has a single phone number programmed into it that will call the one I have.”

At this, he reaches into his pocket and produces the phone’s twin. He shakes it for emphasis, pressing a button and lighting up the screen. “You have to make sure to keep it charged. I want you to have it for emergencies only. And I mean emergencies, Baby. This is a last resort kind of device, alright?” 

You chew your bottom lip, dragging your eyes to look up at him. “Why?” 

“Because I need to know that you always have a last resort.” His gaze darkens. “Clearly your assigned security team lets you give them the slip. I need to know that you can hit the dial on this faster than you can on our phones. They’re overly complicated and not quick. With this?” 

He reaches over and turns on the phone in your hand. Once booted, he presses the one button. The device in his hand starts ringing. “Direct and fast access to me at all times. Do it even if you can’t tell me where you are. I’ll find you.” 

Emotion twists your throat. You grip the phone with a vice grip, looking up at him with wide eyes. His face is serious. He slips his phone in his pocket, turning back to do his job. “I will answer,” he promises. “It doesn’t matter when and where. I will answer that phone even if I’m dying. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.”

He nods. “Good.”

A knock on your door wakes you up from a dreamless sleep. Darkness spills across your room like ink as you slip from your bed, cursing when you kick the corner of your nightstand. With a raspy voice, you ask the automated room assistant to turn on the nightlights, a hazy purple immediately lighting the circumference of your room.

Squinting against the lavender glow, you pad over your room to open the door. Soonyoung is leaning heavily against the wall just beyond the threshold, his chin tucked to his chest and his hair sweaty and clinging to his temples. 

He doesn’t move when you open the door, the lilac light casting an eerie radiance on the side of his face. It’s hard to make out his expression in the lurking shadow of the hallway, and he offers no explanation for why he’s knocking on your door at three in the morning. 

“Soonyoung?” you whisper, eyes darting down the hall. No one else is around. “Where are Cheol and Vernon?”

“S’cheol is still working. Vernon went to stay at Angel’s.”

“Are you - Soonyoung are you drunk? Or high?”

“Yeah.” 

Both you realize. You can deal with both. 

Grabbing him by the hand, you tug him gently. He pushes off the wall with heavy steps, stumbling through your open door and into the room. You grip him tighter, shutting your door with a gentle click before turning around to face him. 

Soonyoung won’t look at you, turning his face away as he sways a little where he stands. Now that you can see him fully, you realize that there is blood on the collar of his shirt. Heart thudding, your hands reach for it, peeling it back to look at his neck. Specs of dry crimson flake from sweaty skin, making your terror reach new heights. 

He shrugs you off. “Not mine.” 

“I - what’s going on?” 

Instead of answering you, he walks a few crooked steps toward your bed and sits down on the edge. Licking your lips, you approach him slowly. He’s slouched over, elbows pressed to his knees as his head hangs heavily. He still hasn’t looked at you properly and you’re aching to see his eyes. You can always understand him better when you see his eyes, able to read the depth of emotions hiding beneath his mask.

When you reach him, you crouch down. Instead of grabbing for him again and risking him pulling away, you rest your hands on top of your knees. When afraid or upset, Soonyoung is like a cornered animal. You don’t know whether he’s in fight or flight, both just as dangerous as the next. 

“Soonyoung,” you say again gently. You watch his every move. “You’re scaring me. Do you need me to call Cheol or Vernon?”

If Seungcheol is working the circuit, he isn’t the best to call. Late night circuits include going from club to club under the Choi banner to monitor the drug trafficking and attend small business meetings as appropriate. Seungcheol will drop whatever he’s doing for you in a heartbeat, but it’s more complicated than that. 

In theory, Vernon is easier to get a hold of. He’s already off work and though he might not answer his phone if you call, you know his girlfriend will. Plus, the blood on Soonyoung’s shirt and skin can give you a guess at what’s happened, and Vernon is more equipped for that type of thing than you are. 

“Let me call Vernon-”

“No,” he finally says. “No. Sorry. I just.” 

Your chest squeezes in pain. It’s like you can feel the torture radiating through him, feel the weight of whatever it is that’s dragging him down yourself. Desperation drives you to reach out toward him slowly, watching for any sign of startling him. When he doesn’t move to pull away, you touch him gently, squeezing his knee gently. “What do you need?” 

“My dad always said I should feel something.” His words are halting, coming out slurred. You wait, holding your breath as he works through them. “Always said that you should feel something when you kill someone. If you don’t, it means you’re nothing more than a beast with base instincts. Not intelligent or refined.”

It takes everything in you not to let your grip turn to steel at his words. Instead, you rub your hand up and down his thigh soothingly, saying nothing. Soonyoung has never killed someone before. You would know if he had. He’s the last in your immediate circle of friends beside yourself to take on the weight of stealing life, and you’ve dreaded this day for a long time. 

Murder is an inevitability in your family. Keeping the Choi Syndicate on top requires sacrifice, cruelty and cunning. Soonyoung had started serving as an officially ranked member of the Syndicate over a year ago, and though he had fucked up a lot of people and brought them to the brink of death, he hadn’t actually done it yet. 

“I felt nothing,” he whispers, voice thick. “Fucking nothing.” 

“What do you mean?”

“There was no guilt. I didn’t even flinch. It was so easy, like fucking breathing. That’s not what my dad wanted me to be. He always said that those who felt nothing were just… baser creatures. That we were better because we were… made better.” 

“I think your dad wanted a lot of things. You being alive was the most important of those things, Soonyoung.” 

“I’m just tired of feeling fucking empty. I don’t give a shit that I killed someone, Baby. Honestly? I was fucking looking forward to it. I thought maybe - just maybe - I would feel something, even if it was guilt or horror or satisfaction. There was nothing.” 

You have no idea what to say. Instead of words, you surge forward, letting go of Soonyoung’s knee to push yourself between his thighs, wrapping your arms around his middle. He flinches for a moment, arms hanging dead at his side as you press your cheek to his chest, squeezing. 

Inside, you feel your heart crack open. You shove down the overwhelming sense of despair on his behalf, instead focused on him. There’s nothing to say with words, and you hope he can feel what you’re trying to tell him through touch, that he can feel everything you don’t know how to say as you hold him tight, clinging to him. 

Slowly, his arms encircle you. It takes him a moment, but he applies a little pressure back. It makes you scoot in more, pressed as close as you can get to him. He buries his face in your neck, his breaths warm and smelling like tequila. He smells like him too, vanilla and sandalwood. 

“I don’t feel like a person sometimes,” he whispers. “It’s like the ability for me to feel anything died forever ago. Like I killed it so that I didn’t ever have to hurt again. Now I only ever feel when-”

He cuts himself off and sinks into you a little more. You bear his weight, willing to carry any burden for him. You don’t think he realizes that he could ask you to jump and you’d say how high. You’ve always been willing to jump for him, always willing to do whatever he wants, whatever he needs. 

Gently, you ask, “You only ever feel when what? You can tell me if you want. Whatever you need.” 

“I feel when I’m with you.” Soonyoung whispers it like it’s a secret he doesn’t want you to hear. You feel the words hit your skin where he speaks them, a shiver slithering through you. His grip on you tightens a little with the admission, like now that he’s said it, he can’t let go. Won’t. “I feel most like a person when I’m with you.”

Pressing the flat of your hand to his back, you begin to stroke up and down slowly, touch following the careful ridges of his spine. He sighs, shivering in your hold. You want nothing more than to take the pain or whatever he’s feeling away, to rip it from him and to destroy it. 

The fierceness of your love for him is hard to tamp down. A fiery admission of your feelings for him isn’t what he needs right now. You know Soonyoung like the inside of your own soul, everything that makes him tick, every habit he’s picked up over the years. You can sense him standing lost at sea, needing an anchor. Needing you. 

“Okay,” you say softly. “So stay with me. Be a person with me.”

“I’m not made for you.”

“Yes you are.” Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, pressing sharply. The desire to covet him is so intense it overtakes you. “If I make you a person, then how could we be made for anyone but one another?” 

Silence greets your logic. You stay holding him like that, desperate to keep him there, terrified he’ll shrug you off and get up. He’s done it before, shucking off your affection like something to be disposed of. And still you give it to him freely, begging him to take it. 

He doesn’t shy away from you. Instead you feel him nod, mouth brushing tenderly across your throat in the ghost of a kiss. “If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. Do you understand? I won’t… I will be incapable of ever letting you go. Ever. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You hug him tighter. “Try to leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung.” 

“Where’s your other half?” the voice causes you to turn from where you lean against the bar. Angel slides up next to you, cocking her head as she does. She looks like a wraith, dressed in a rain slicker over black long-sleeved shirt that’s tucked into black pants. Her jacket and combat boots are wet, suggesting it’s still raining outside. “You’re usually attached at the hip. My therapist calls that codependency. Says Hansol and I have it too.” 

“Does your therapist also know you’re a murderer?” you mutter. The bartender slides drinks over to you and you nod in thanks. “Or that you’re only seeing her because Jeonghan made a bet with you? Or that your job often involves extortion? What does she think about that?” 

As a Rook of the Choi Syndicate, Angel’s job is a far cry from the holy nickname she’s sported since she was a child. Like Vernon, her role within your father’s empire is to collect debts owed to the Choi family and to remind them never to fall behind on payments. Other times, she’s simply used as a good tool to put the fear of god into enemies of the Choi family, and she’s good at it.

Raised under the careful tutelage of the Yoon family, there’s no weakness Angel can’t find and use. The only one better at it than her is her step brother, who is probably sitting next to your brother behind closed doors somewhere in the Choi Estate holding a meeting.

As Seungcheol’s future second in command, it’s Jeonghan’s responsibility to learn the ropes just like your brother. One day, it’ll be the two of them leading your family, a thought that makes you cringe with worry. 

Angel answers your question with a shrug. “I’m sure she knows I’m into some shit. I’m learning all kinds of new things about myself.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“I don’t like therapy. And I kind of want to ask my therapist why she thinks she’s qualified for therapy when she’s fucking three of her clients.”

A snort escapes you as you shake your head. Of course Angel knows that about her own therapist. Lifting the two drinks on the bar, you drift away from her, eyes flicking over the Rook. “Stay out of trouble, Angel. And give Vernon my love.” 

She grins, wicked sharp and deadly. “No bar fights, hmm? Enjoy the party.” 

The party in question is exhausting. You’ve been playing pretty princess all night, saying hello to all of the right people, shaking all of the jeweled hands, kissing all of the right asses. You’re exhausted and the tension in your shoulder has been knotting further and further. 

Once upon a time you would have been thankful to at least not be Seungcheol. He shouldered a lot more responsibility. Now you’ve realized that you don’t shoulder less than him - it’s just different. If Seungcheol is the sword and shield of the Syndicate, you’re the face and smile. Galas, charities, celebrity events - it’s a never ending stream of smile, pose, shake hands. 

It doesn’t hide the fact that you sit on a throne that belongs to a criminal empire, of course. But it’s also no secret that the Three Syndicates run the city. Your family has long been one of the stalwart backbones of the government and city infrastructure. Only the Kim family and the Yong family come close. 

Still, appearances are everything. Especially when the Yong family owns most of the media outlets, weaponizing it against the Choi Syndicate every chance they get. You make it harder for them, using your appearances and platforms like a carefully wielded sword. 

Spotting Soonyoung among those dressed in dark security uniforms is easy. He nearly blends in with the dark pipe and drape that has been set up all over the ballroom of your home, but you could find him anywhere, your internal compass pointing to him even in the dark.

Soonyoung’s eyes alight on you, sharp and intense. His face is a cool mask of indifference, but you can see the way interest sparks in his eyes as he drinks you in. He’s already seen you in your dress tonight, but it doesn’t stop him from refamiliarizing himself, eyes tracing every dip and curve.

God you wish you were somewhere else with him. Specifically wrapped in the gray sheets of his bed, sweat-slicked and out of breath. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you say shyly, handing him a drink.

He takes it and looks up at you, arching a brow. “I can’t drink this, I’m working.” 

“It’s just soda with lime, the way you like it.” 

His lips twitch in a smile as he takes a sip, nodding in confirmation. He doesn’t reach out to you and hold you close like you know he wants to, respecting the propriety of his position and the fact that he is on the clock right now. 

“You look tired,” he murmurs, eyes studying your face. 

So does he. As an official Sword of the Choi family, his job keeps him out late, bloodied, and tired. He’s completely changed from the man who sank into your arms that first night he killed someone, hardened into someone that your father sends to do just that often. 

A weapon. A Sword. A trusted knife in the dark for the Choi family.

You think Soonyoung is more capable than being a heavy for your dad and his associates. Soonyoung is intelligent and sharp, having gained perspective and a wealth of knowledge from living with your family. Still, his dad had been the leader of the hired guns for the Choi Syndicate. Soonyoung is an efficient killer, his fate bound by his father long ago.

“When are you off tonight?” you ask instead of telling him how tired he looks.

“I’m not.” You frown. He sips his drink again and gives you a soft smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s been busy. The Yong family are getting in our way at the docks. I gotta head down there with Vernon and Jeonghan after the party.” 

“The Yongs are doing it outright?” 

“No. We’re pretty confident it’s them though. Jeonghan is working on it. If we can bring the Xu family under our wing, it would be a lot easier to push them out.” 

“They have a son,” you note, thinking about the last event you attended where the Xu heir was in attendance. “Maybe marriage to one of our big hitters? Nexus Capital has an heiress.”

“I’ll mention it to Jeonghan. Who the fuck would want an arranged marriage, though?”

“Not me,” you laugh, wiping the eyelash you spot on his cheek gently. He gives you a tired, albeit affectionate smile. “You’ve been working nonstop. Tell Seungcheol you need a night off.”

“We both know it’s not Seungcheol working me to the bone, Baby.” 

Swallowing thickly, you turn away from him under the guise of scanning the crowd. You know you don’t fool him. Both you and Soongyoung know your father does not approve of your relationship, taking it out on Soonyoung to keep him busy and away from you. 

Your father would never hurt Soonyoung directly. You know that. He loves him like a son - sees his late best friend in the features of the man that Soonyoung has been shaped into under his care and tutelage. When you started dating Soonyoung seriously, you thought your parents might be happy. They adore him and they loved his parents just as much. 

Soonyoung is below your station, though. 

Your father will never say it outright. He wouldn’t insult his late friend’s son that way. But the way your father works Soonyoung harder than anyone else, holding him to a standard he doesn’t even keep for his highest level of men, you realize how deep the dissatisfaction goes. Even your mother’s adoration of Soonyoung does little to shield him from the petty assignments, try as she might. 

Still, you don’t care. And at the end of the day, neither does Soonyoung. As long as he gets to have you, he’s willing to put up with the petty assignments and the working late. 

“Hey,” Soonyoung says gently, bringing your attention back to him. He finishes his drink and sets it on a banquet table nearby. His eyes are averted, looking somewhere across the room as his hand slips around your waist to squeeze you quickly and press a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got to go - I’ve got a meeting with Vernon before we head out tonight. I’ll see you when I’m done. Probably won’t be until late morning.” 

“Alright,” You sigh. His hand slips from your waist and you wish you could pull him back to you. “Love you.” 

He grins brightly, giving you a wink before he melts into the crowd, weaving around party goers. Your heart squeezes when you lose sight of him. 

Someone clearing their throat catches your attention. You spin around to see Lan, one of your father’s personal Swords nodding politely at you. “Your father wishes to see you in the West Parlor. I’m to escort you.”

“Oh. Sure.” You set your drink down on the banquet table, wiping your damp hands on your dress. “Lead the way.” 

People bow their heads in respect as you go. You keep an even pace with Lan, which is hard to do with his long strides and your strappy heels digging into your ankles. He slows for your benefit and you give him a grateful smile, the swelling noise from the party leaving you behind as you step out of the ballroom and walk toward the west wing of the house. 

Some people mill about the halls of the estate. You can spot the members of the Syndicate who are on duty, mostly Swords that belong to the security force employed under the Choi family. You spot Chan leaning against a wall while gesturing broadly with his hands as he speaks to the owner of a new club on the edge of the Pearl District. When he catches your stare, Chan winks before focusing his attention back on the owner. Probably trying to work out some sort of deal or partnership, as is his job. 

The west wing of the house is quiet and off limits to the rest of the party. Your bedroom is just up two flights of stairs, your bed calling your name as you pass under the stairwell into the hallway that belongs to the West Parlor, the library, the study and your father’s billiards room. 

Old Man Vero is standing outside your fathers study, his hands linked in front of him and his head straight forward. He glances your way as Lan leans you toward the door, cracking a bit of a smile on his leathery face and giving you a wink. You grin, lightly reaching out and touching his elbow as Lan opens the door for you. Your father’s Swords have been in your life since you were a child, permanent figures of fixed loyalty and familiarity. 

They love you like they love your father, like they love your brother. It isn’t pure fear and power that keeps the Choi Syndicate together. Your father has plenty of that among the ranks, but the loyalty and love between him and his higher ranking members is real. Critical. It was a skill he taught you and Seungcheol, both of you arming yourself with your own shield of friends and confidants. 

Your father sits in a leather armchair, leaned back with his eyes closed. Next to him, a cigar smokes in the ashtray, threatening to go out as the thin wisps of smoke vanish into the air. An old fashioned record player echoes in the far corner of the room, smoothe notes vibrating through the air. 

“Tower,” you greet him formally, bowing at the waist. “How can I be of service to the family?” 

His eyes flutter open and he looks at you tiredly. He looks so much like your brother that it’s uncanny, sometimes. But his youth has worn off, his age more and more evident these days as he spreads himself thin expanding the Choi empire. Your mother has asked him - begged him - to give more responsibility to Seungcheol, but he refuses.

At least you know where your stubborn streak comes from. 

“So formal,” he notes, his lips twitching upward. He gestured for you to sit in one of the arm chairs. You do, smoothing your dress carefully as you sit. Behind you, Lan exits the room, the soft click of the door behind you. “You were always a better student than your brother.”

“That’s because he’s a man.”

A hearty laugh makes you grin, feeling a flutter of fondness. He was never an overly affectionate father, but he’s always been kind, though firm. You respect him, which is saying something in your world.

“Spoken like an intelligent woman,” he sighs. You wait patiently, watching as he seems to gather his words. Your stomach knots, sensing a trepidation about him that you’re not used to. “Your intelligence has always been your best asset, though you’re a little hot-headed like your brother.” 

“Steadfast is the mountain,” you say, quoting the Choi family motto.

He grins and adds your mother’s family moniker, “But the fire does burn. I knew marrying your mother was a good choice. Marrying the right person is paramount in this life. Family unions can make or break an empire, and they forge old alliances anew or secure new alliances.” 

A prickle down your spine makes you sit straighter. You had implied as much earlier to Soonyoung about the Xu family, knowing marriage was a viable option to bring the shipping mogul into the Choi empire. Now, though, the notion has you on edge, watching him like a frightened cat.

“I didn’t pick your mother, you know,” he muses, his eyes unfocusing somewhere far away. “But when my father recommended her, I knew he was right. I was familiar with her, of course. We went to school together. Fought like cats, but she was so intelligent and fierce.” 

You’ve heard this story before. Your father hadn’t loved her to start, but your mother had loved him right away. Had always known that she loved him. She’d shown up at one of his billiard nights and told him exactly how she felt, asserting that they would be married and that he would be loyal to her. 

He’d fallen in love with her that night. 

He sighs heavily. “I see a lot of your mother in you.”

“Don’t let her hear you sound so disappointed. She might be offended.”

“She’s better than me,” he says. His eyes focus on you, flicking back to appraise you. Sweat slicks on your back and only years of training keep you from not fidgeting under his weighty gaze. “But it would be easier sometimes if you were more like me. Less fire, more mountain. Still, you are rational, so let us speak plainly: you are going to marry the Kim family heir.” 

Silence hangs in the air. You stare at him, your brain taking a moment to catch up with his words. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion, processing the firmness in his voice, the way he looks at you with heavy countenance. 

You are going to marry the Kim family heir.

A high-pitched ringing starts in your ears and you feel the buzz of panic start to tingle at the base of your spine. Your fingers dig into the arms of your chair a little, trying to fight the staccato rhythm of your heart from getting out of control. 

“What?” you ask. It feels dumb, compared to the eloquence you’re capable of. 

“Kim Yijun is a perfect match,” he says simply. “He’s in line to inherit the Kim Syndicate. There is tension with the Yong family, and I will not lie to you: they have a far larger reach than we would like. They don’t do things the old way like the Choi and Kim families. They have started to ally themselves with the Arash family in Veridian, giving them cuts and room in our city to spread their reach outside the bounds of their own city.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“The Kim and Choi families have been united before. They’ve always been our first ally in times of city upheaval and Syndicate war, and they, like us, don’t believe in letting outsiders have a seat at the table. The Yong family don’t understand that, and are willing to let vermin have scraps if it means scooting us out.”

“I’m-” you shake your head. “You can’t ask that of me.”

“I’m not asking.” He reaches for a lighter and picks up the cigar. He takes a moment to relight it, taking his focus off of you. You feel your pulse spiking, your grip on the chair like iron. “I am telling you that this is what your future will be. I understand you like the Kwon boy, but-”

You sneer, baring your teeth. “The Kwon boy? Don’t reduce him to some stranger. Soonyoung grew up in this house, he is family. And I don’t just like him, I love him. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you bullying him because you’re frustrated that I love him. You love him too.” 

“I do. I love him like my own. But he is not for you.”

“He is. I will not marry Yijun. I am asking you not as a member of this Syndicate, but as your daughter to drop this machination from your plans. I am your blood, you cannot ask this of me.”

“I told you, I am not asking. I am telling you.” 

A tremor starts in your hands. Your heart races so fast that you feel sick, sweat slicking your skin as you begin to pant sharply. The ringing in your ears grows until you feel disconnected to it, like suddenly you’re living in third person. You’re aware that you’re hyperventilating and yet, suddenly it’s separate from you.

Standing abruptly, you feel the world tilt. You take a second to steady yourself, feeling the numb tingle spread throughout you like a flood. 

“Sit down,” your father demands. You hear the warning. Recognize the firmness in it. This is the Tower of the Choi Syndicate speaking, not your father. 

“Take this as my resignation from the family,” you tell him. Your voice doesn’t feel like your own, steady and without inflection. “I’ll renounce my inheritance and will not use the Choi family for any connection or advantages-”

“You will not!” 

His voice startles you. Lures you away from the safety of your detachment. You look at him, eyes wide and shaking. His hand is fisted on the armchair, his rage crackling around him like a thunderstorm. “I will not have my only daughter sabotage everything this family has built for the affection of someone unfit for her station. Kwon Soonyoung is a weapon meant to serve you. You will marry Kim Yijun or I will remove the obstacle altogether.” 

Your entire life there have been two versions of your father. The stoic leader of one of the oldest criminal empires in Hyperion, the vicious man who could be cold and calculating, and who was reverently feared by his enemies. The kind father who watched you and Seungcheol study math together, carefully explaining to you how to carry numbers over in the equation. 

It is the former who sits before you now. Someone entirely unfamiliar to you, though you’ve always known he existed. And why would you? Your father has never had to be ruthless with you before, hiding the way he could cut from you until it was necessary. 

Soonyoung knew. You know it with absolute clarity. You remember the fear in his eyes when you had slipped into his room that night asking for a kiss, the way that he is always so careful about when and where he touches you, the way he takes the assignments and the mistreatment without so much as a protest because it means he gets to have you.

“You would kill him?” you whisper, looking your father in the eye. “You promised to take him in when his family was murdered. He had no one, and you promised his father you’d raise him as your own. You would go back on that?” 

He scowls. “If his father knew what he was, he’d kill Soonyoung himself. That boy is a dog to be set upon whoever his owner wishes, who kills with impunity.” You say nothing. I don’t feel like a person. Soonyoung’s words echo in your mind, haunting. “I hold the collar and I will put him down, if need be.” 

“So you raised a pet to be disposed of at your convenience?”

“I raised a boy who should be grateful I haven’t put him in the fucking ground for sullying my only daughter. I let you two have time, and you should be grateful. It is my love for him that has stayed my hand this long. No more. You will marry Kim Yijun, or you will bury that boy. This is the command of your Tower.”

“Mother will not let you-”

“Your mother doesn’t let me do anything. I am the Tower of this family, and it does what I command. You will fall in line.” 

Tears spill from your eyes. You suddenly feel like you’re standing on a cliff, the vertigo of nothingness at the bottom making you sick with fear. Desperation grips at you as you stare at your father, willing him to change his mind. Begging him. 

His pity doesn’t come. There is only resolute silence, watching as you crumple in front of him, knees going weak as you abruptly sit - fall - on the floor. You bury your face in your hands, grief for something lost stealing your ability to maintain control before you’ve even given an answer. 

I’m not made for you. 

Soonyoung had tried to tell you a long time ago and you’d brushed him off. Of course he was made for you. He was all you’ve ever wanted, and you’ve always been given what you wanted. You made him whole, and he you. How could you not be made for one another. 

“Please don’t do this to me. Daddy,” you whisper, trying to appeal to him with the little girl he loves. “Please, I love him.” 

“Lan will escort you to your room.” You ignore his words, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, willing the tears to stop. You know later you’ll feel pathetic for the display of emotion, for the meltdown in the face of adversity. “You will announce your engagement at the end of the week.”

“Yes, Tower.”

“If you so much as remotely try to sneak around with him, I will put him in the ground and bear the weight of that grief for eternity.” 

“Yes, Tower.”

“Know that I love you. We must make sacrifices for this family we wish not to. But you will make the sacrifice like I have so many times before. So will Soonyoung.” 

You stand, limbs shaky as you look at your father, the heat of your mother’s rage fueling your gaze. “Yes, Tower.”

Sleep claws at you with greedy fingers, unwilling to give you up to the waking light of day. You groan, suspended in that moment of almost awake but achingly unaware. A brush of warm skin on your arm pulls you the rest of the way from heavy sleep, your thoughts sticky as they formulate and you open your eyes, squinting in the gray light of your room. 

Squinting at the clock displayed on your nightstand, you realize it’s late morning. The tinted windows of your room keep out the sunlight, but a single panel has been adjusted to let some of the cloudy day in, a single shaft of gray spilling into your room like muddy water. 

Warmth presses behind your back, the steady touch on your arm trailing up and down. For a second, you lean back into it, feeling your head thud against Soonyoung’s chest, his mouth pressing against the crown of your head. He drags his fingers up and down your arm absently, light as a feather. He smells like soap, a hint of his familiar vanilla and sandalwood. 

“Have trouble sleeping?” the words are mumbled against you. 

“Hmm?”

“There’s lines of crushed knockout on your nightstand, Baby.” 

You look at the nightstand. Sure enough, the white pills you crushed are dusted across the surface. The reality of why you used them slams into you so suddenly that you stiffen, muscles locking.

Soonyoung notices immediately, his touch stilling. “What?”

Finding the words is impossible. You don’t know where to start, your father’s words make you dizzy. The sheets stick to your skin, Soonyoung’s warmth too hot to stand. You scramble from bed, kicking at the sheets and putting distance between you as you bolt toward the bathroom. 

“Hey,” he calls after you. You don’t turn to look at him, the cool tile giving you goosebump as the lights flicker on. You close the door behind you firmly, pressing your back against it. Soonyoung’s knocks are immediate, his voice calling your name on the other side. “What’s wrong?” 

The use of your name sours your stomach. You lurch forward, diving for the toilet as the contents of your stomach empty. The bile burns, your eyes watering as you press against the cold porcelain, clinging to it for life. 

Soonyoung opens the door, letting himself in as you heave again. He’s quick to react, opening the medicine cabinet to remove an anti-nausea inhalent. He wordlessly pads over to you, crouching down to extend it toward you. 

You avoid looking at him directly in the eye as you snatch it from him. His brows are pinched in concern, face swollen with what little sleep he got and mouth turned downward. Your stomach roils again but holds as you crack the inhalent and wave it under your nose, breathing in gently. 

The stimulant makes your eyes water, but immediately the churning in your stomach subsides. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in and out slowly, trying to regulate yourself. Soonyoung watches in silence, his hands opening and closing at his sides like he wants to reach out and touch you but doesn’t. 

When you open your eyes, there is so much love and concern on his face that you almost break right then and there. Instead, you clear your throat and straighten, tossing the medication in the trash.

“Thanks, just hungover. I need to shower.”

He looks doubtful. “Alright.”

Soonyoung stands, heading to the shower. You clear your throat and he pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Alone, please.” 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just want to shower.” 

He says your name again. Not Baby. Not any other derivative. Your name. “You can talk to me.”

Your heart cracks. You panic. Your brain races for the only viable option. “I just want to take a fucking shower, Soonyoung.” You push yourself off the ground, scowling at him. He moves out of your way as you pass him, stunned to silence. “I don’t need you crowding my space every five seconds.” 

Refusing to look at him as you hit the panel in the wall, you instead focus on the water that falls from the ceiling, a storm of heat and the smell of peppermint. You keep your back turned toward him, staring at the water as it heats, steam curling in tendrils where it hits the stone tiles. 

“You can go,” you say sharply. 

“Alright.” 

The gentle click of the door when he leaves is barely audible over the hum of the shower. You let the rushing water lull you into a state of numbness, peeling your clothes off with unsteady, mechanical movements. 

Hot water slicks off your shoulders. You close your eyes and hang your head, letting the feel of the peppering water sluice over your ears, eyes, nose, mouth. You let it blind your senses to nothing but the roar of water, blotting out everything else. 

If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. 

You remember when Soonyoung whispered it against your skin just a few years ago, spoken carefully and clearly, a promise and a warning. He would never let you go. You had to let him go. Telling him what your father has asked of you - has threatened to take away from you - will only make Soonyoung’s feet dig in further.

For as long as you’ve known him, Soonyoung has been a covetous creature. You remember the night at the club he antagonized you just to see that spark of want, just to prove to himself it was him you wanted. You remember the way he clung to you in the dark of your bedroom, the only person who could ever make him whole. Who could make him feel. 

Your father sees Soonyoung as a loyal attack dog - but it isn’t the Tower of the Choi Syndicate who holds Soonyoung’s collar. It never has been. Soonyoung has never asked your father how high. 

Pressing your palms to your eyes, you start deep breathing exercises. In through your nose, out through your mouth. The shaking in your fingers begins to subside, the logic part of your brain turning on. 

The threat on Soonyoung’s life is real. You saw the resolve in your father’s eye, the painful glint. He would hate to do it, but he would do it. You’re entwined too deep into your family’s affairs and business to vanish. There is nothing in the world you have that’s your own, no assets that are not connected to them in some way.

And if you tell Soonyoung, he’ll face the problem like he does everything that stands in his way: try to kill it. 

For a split moment, your brain chases the thought like a mouse after cheese. Like a long math problem, you work out if it’s possible to commit patricide and get away with it. Your mother will never forgive you, but Seungcheol might. Your friends would - they’re loyal to you, especially Jeonghan and Angel. 

The older generation, though- 

You toss aside the thought almost as quickly as you thought of it - not because you don’t want to kill your father, but because it isn’t possible. Not just like that. There are too many pieces on the chessboard, too many domino effects spreading out in every direction if you take that route.

No. There is only a single path for you, set in motion by a hand with more power than you. 

And there’s only one way you can move forward with Soonyoung. 

There’s so much of your mother’s side of the family you’ve inherited. Her side has always been associated with the phoenix, the burning immortality of their name and their strength, a blazing glory. Your maternal relatives have always been the rage and the fire that was needed for a Syndicate to advance, a good partnership for the Choi’s who were cold and steadfast. 

What you need now is the winter of the mountain, not the rage of the phoenix. You need to be a Choi. 

Steadfast is the mountain. 

You love Soonyoung. You love him you love him you love him youlovehimyoulovehimyoulovehimYOULOVEHIMYOULOVEHIM- 

Pressing your fist to your mouth, you bite down for one, blinding moment of untapped rage. You feel your skin break, taste iron and salt, feel pain bloom. 

Steadfast is the mountain. 

Then it’s gone. You drop your hand from your mouth. Open your eyes. Turn off the shower. The rage is gone, buried beneath a layer of newly formed ice. If there is anyone you can do this for, it’s Soonyoung. You love him. You will destroy him. But he’ll be alive. 

Soonyoung is sitting on your bed when you open the door. He’s got a tablet in his hand, the holographic images displaying above the screen, haloing his face in blue light. There are circles under his eyes and his teeth worry at his bottom lip, which is chapped. He’s shirtless, the compact planes of his body half shadowed by the single shaft of light filtering through a window. 

He looks up at you but you ignore him, heading to your closet. The silence is brutal. You push through it, opening the closet doors to reveal a massive space nearly the same size of your bathroom. Track lights kick on, rows and rows of clothes by color greeting you. In the middle, there is an island counter, filled with drawers and biolocked jewelry safes. 

Soft steps tell you Soonyoung is standing at the entrance of the closet. You still don’t face him, walking over to your section of black clothes. You flick through them, eyes scanning. Black seems appropriate. It feels like death, afterall. 

Soonyoung’s voice is soft as his late night kisses. “What’s going on?” 

“I’m marrying Kim Yijun.” 

A beat passes. Then another. 

“Is that supposed to be a joke? I’m not interested in pranks this morning.”

“It’s not a prank.” You pull out a black, silk dress. “The Tower has asked this of me, and I’ll be doing it.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

You continue, undeterred as you put the dress back and keep looking. “The Kim family has agreed to the match ahead of the rising tensions with the Yong Syndicate and their new take on foreign allies. A united front of the old families will benefit our family-”

“You’re not fucking marrying Kim Yijun.” 

“All of the metrics we’ve run for public opinion and potential city-wide reaction are favorable. The Tower needs his children to fall in line, and I intend to do so.”

Soonyoung storms toward you. You turn on your heel, holding a finger out to him, voice severe, “Don’t come near me.” 

“Why? Because you know you’ll lose your resolve? Because the second I touch you, you’ll drop whatever bravado this is and let me help you?”

Exactly that. He knows you inside and out. Sees through the front. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need him to believe you, you need him to obey. 

He takes another step and you back up. “I will scream,” you threaten, venom in your voice. “I will scream and Seungcheol and Vernon are right down the hall. Whose side do you think they’ll take, with your reputation for violence?” 

“Fuck you, they know I’d never hurt you.”

You hear the waver in his voice. That tiny sliver of doubt, so small and tiny but there. They do know he would never hurt you, but Soonyoung isn’t convinced they’d believe him. It makes you sick, but you latch onto it, unspooling that tiny bit of hurt. “Do they, Soonyoung? I hear some of them call you a mad dog because you attack with no regard for anything. Do you really think they trust you entirely with me?”

Soonyoung is raging. His chest rising and falling, shaking his head back and forth as he tries to understand. You’re rooted to the spot, muscles coiled, pulse thudding in your throat. “You are not,” he growls. “Marrying Kim Yijun. You don’t even want to, don’t try to lie to me about your feelings or insult me thinking you can bait me. You love me. You are mine.” 

“I belong to the Choi family and it’s what my family needs from me. I will do my duty.”

“Fuck your family!” His roar makes you flinch, briefly closing your eyes. His palm slams on the top of the countertop in front of him, sharp in the silence. “You have a duty to me. I told you I would not fucking let you go. You’re not doing it. I’ll fucking kill him, you think I won’t? I’ll murder every last one of them-” 

“You don’t tell me what to do, Kwon Soonyoung. I will do this, and you will obey.” He bristles, going rigid as your words land like a slap. “When I say jump, you say how high. You’ve always known that.” 

For a second, he cracks. The Soonyoung you first saw on your doorstep, crying and round-cheeked and ruddy returns. His lip trembles and the way he looks at you nearly melts your iron will. You’re so close to collapsing, to laying it out before him, to risking it all. 

“Don’t do this to me.” His whisper is made of glass. Delicate. He presses his palm to his chest, right over his heart. Earnest. “I can’t - you know I can’t. I- please. I can’t do this.” 

Licking your lips, you look him in the eyes. His eyes are your favorite. Dark. Stormy. Endless. They are lined with silver, panic rippling across the surface. 

You lift your chin and push back your shoulders. “You can and you will, because I told you to jump, Soonyoung. Now ask how high.” 

Sunlight warms the back of your neck, humidity clinging to your skin like a second layer. You take a deep breath, though the steamy air offers no relief. You snap open a silk fan, waving it in front of your face in hopes of chasing away some of the sweat, feeling the separation between skin and makeup the longer you sit in the wretched heat of the garden. 

It’s not even real sunlight or heat. You can’t tell beyond the projection in the room, but you know that there are vents heating up the room and controls that make the air humid and sticky, making it feel like you’re sitting in a real garden outside somewhere lush. 

Lin drones on and on about something. You tuned her out long ago, eyes flickering back and forth to your watch and the women’s faces around you. None of them here are really your friend - not in the way Angel is, the way Wonwoo or Jeonghan are. 

Yet you’re expected to be here, entertaining the upper echelon wives of the Choi and Kim Syndicates, boiling away in an imaginary garden while you sweat to death, dress clinging to your skin and thighs slippery in the seat as you adjust yourself, uncomfortable. 

“It’s hot as a motherfucker,” a whispered voice comes from next to you. You look up to see the newly engaged heiress of Nexus Capital next to you, glaring behind the dark shade of her sunglasses as Lin continues rambling about something. “Couldn’t she have made it less real?”

A smirk twitches on your lips. You haven’t spoken to her much, but her recent engagement to Xu Minghao had secured the position the Choi Syndicate had been fighting for in the shipping yards and docks with the Yong family, elevating her family into the favored circle of your father.

Suddenly, you remember who had recommended that marriage in the first place. You remember the party, the pretty dress you wore, Soonyoung’s hand briefly on your waist as he kissed you goodbye for a meeting. You had no idea then that your throwaway comment about an arranged marriage to benefit your family would become your own nightmare under an hour later.

Grief is a funny thing. You never knew that you could feel grief for someone who isn’t dead, yet sometimes you feel such an overwhelming amount of grief at the hole that Soonyoung has left behind that you can’t breathe. 

Throat dry, you reach for water, drinking eagerly. You feel a bead of water run down your face, but you ignore it in favor of trying to focus on not panicking. 

Anxiety attacks are new for you. Though your entire life has been colored with stressful situations unique to growing up in a criminal Syndicate, you could never say that you were anxious before. At least not in the way that made the back of your neck too hot and the tips of your fingers buzz with the threat of a looming meltdown. 

You ignore it. It’s all you know how to do. The anxiety medication your therapist gave you doesn't work, and you can’t crush a bunch of pills and inhale them anytime you feel like you’re about to get tunnel vision and spiral. 

Well, you suppose you can, but you’re trying not to get into the habit. 

Instead of acknowledging the way the panic lurks around your edges like a predator waiting to pounce, you listen to the dull conversation around you. Focus on the gossip that you don’t care about, exactly, but know it’s good to have. 

Since marrying into the Kim family, you’re not sure what your job is. With your family, your role as the face, the legacy and the representation of the Choi Syndicate had always been clear and obvious. Now, your husband sends you to stupid things like this with preening people that you don’t like and makes you leave events early when he’s irritable. 

Gossip is a weapon, though. So you gather it when you can, taking in bits of information and storing it for yourself. Rarely do you offer it to Yijun - not that he would take it - but Jeonghan finds the information you share useful. So does Angel, but there’s rarely anything you know that she doesn’t. 

Just as your anxiety begins to fade, the source of it materializes. 

At first, you think you’re seeing things when a door appears in the wall depicting an apple orchard and Soonyoung strolls out into the fake-sun. You blink dumbly, spine tingling as you realize that your mind is not playing tricks on you and it is him. 

He sees you immediately. His dark eyes burn like embers, pinning you to the spot. His face remains motionless but you see his jaw tick, the only sign that he is immediately on edge when he sees you. He’s dressed for work in an all black suit, required for the Swords of the Choi family. 

Giggles breakout around the table as he approaches, the ladies around you all flushed cheeks and demure smiles. You feel the buzzing start in your hands again, this time worse. It goes up your arms, working its way to your chest as the anxiety increases tenfold, heart pounding.

Soonyoung bows. “I beg your pardon, ladies.” 

“My goodness, Soonyoung,” Lin preens. “You must be horribly hot in that suit, but you do look handsome.”

You fight the urge to snarl at her that the imitation of the garden isn’t real and no amount of pretending will make it real. You even imagine reaching across the table and plunging her fish knife into her hand. Instead, you watch Soonyoung, your hummingbird heart fluttering. 

He gives her a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be alright. I apologize for interrupting, but the Tower of the Choi family has sent me to escort his daughter home.” 

“Home?” 

“The Choi Estate.” 

He doesn’t say what he means: the Kim Estate is not your home. 

“Alright,” you say, voice reedy. Your hands are trembling as you slide your chair from the table, the metal legs grinding loudly against concrete. You flinch at the sound, hyper aware of every bead of sweat crawling down your spine, every beat of your heart that is too fast, too hard.

Static fills you as you mumble parting words to the women who watch you in confusion. At least, you think you mumble your goodbyes. Blood rushes in your ears as you take uneven steps toward Soonyoung, who turns on his heel and starts marching toward the apple orchard. 

It feels like you’re in an echo chamber. Everything suddenly feels hollow and everything sounds as though you’re hearing it through a thin wall. Muted. Dull. He opens the door that you can’t quite spot even this close, ushering you inside as your vision starts tunneling to a narrow point, everything else blurry and distorted. 

No. No no no no no. 

Lifting your hands, you glance down at them to see them trembling, opening and closing your fists in an attempt to stop the buzzing feeling, as though you could will it away. You think Soonyoung says something but you can’t hear him over the roar of panic that grips you and tears you sideways.

Instead of following him down the hall, you lurch toward a different hall, rushing toward the powder room. It feels like the walls are narrowing as you throw open the door, breath coming out in pants. Everything feels tight and compact, crushing smaller still. 

Stumbling to the sink you try to turn the faucet on. Once. Twice. Cold water spits from the faucet and you gasp, leaning down over the sink to splash freezing water into your face. It doesn’t have the desired effect, the water is not cool enough to shock you out of your panic. 

Soonyoung speaks behind you. You can’t hear him, the grip of your anxiety so strong that you grab the edges of the sink to keep you up right. You’re heaving now, heart rattling so hard you think that maybe you’re having a heart attack instead. 

A firm grip wretches your attention from the porcelain sink to the mirror, where you see your dripping reflection, eyes blown like saucers. Soonyoung is standing behind you, a hand on your bicep, squeezing. His face is no longer a mask of indifference, but one of confusion. 

His mouth moves and you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “I can’t,” you gasp, ragged. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” 

Then, he does something that catches you entirely off guard. You watch in slow motion as he steps back and removes the gun from the holster underneath his suit jacket. You hear the safety on the gun click and the hum as the weapon charges, ready to fire rounds of plasma if he squeezes the trigger. 

And then he points the gun at your head, the lights on it flipping from blue to red, signaling it’s ready to kill. 

The world stops. The panic vanishes for a split second, replaced with utter shock as you stare at him in the mirror. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you demand, voice stronger than you expect. 

Soonyoung is ten levels of crazy, but he’s never pointed a gun at you before. You stare at him, open-mouthed and wondering if he’ll do it. If he could pull the trigger. He’d told you a hundred times when you were together that he would never let you go and it was always with clarity that you understood what he meant: it’s me or no one. 

With stark clarity, you realize there’s no reason for Soonyoung not to pull the trigger. He doesn’t care much about the value of his own life from what you can glean over the last two years, and he doesn’t really seem to care about yours. 

Not that he should. You promised to make him feel human and you did. Then you took it away from him, leaving him adrift in a vast ocean of nothing alone and untethered. 

No, you don’t think you inspire Soonyoung to feel human anymore. If anything, you probably make him want to be the worst version of himself. 

Soonyoung’s voice holds no emotion when he asks, “Are you with me?”

“Why are you pointing a gun at me?” 

“Breathe,” he says instead. He doesn’t lower the weapon, stormy eyes focused on yours. “Breathe,” he repeats. “Slowly, maybe.” 

“Soonyoung, you are holding a gun at me, what do you mean breathe?” 

“What do you mean what do I mean? I mean what I fucking said. Breathe normally.”

“Lower the gun!” He does. “What the fuck?”

He breaks eye contact, sliding the weapon back into his suit jacket. He turns away from you as though he didn’t have you at gunpoint a second ago. “You were having a panic attack. Sometimes a shock to the system stalls it. Your breathing has slowed down now. And you’re not panicking.” 

A beat of silence passes. Then, “So you leveled a gun at my head?” 

“It worked. Let’s go.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“Yes. Now let’s go. You’re needed at the Choi Estate.”

“Why?” 

“Do I look like I have all the answers? I just do what I’m told. When a Choi says jump, remember?”

You visibly flinch as his words land. Soonyoung doesn’t wait for you to gather yourself, spinning on his heel and exiting the powder room to stride through the halls. Tightness gathers in your chest, left over from your anxiety attack. 

Pressing your hands against your dress to wipe the sweat from them, you chase after Soonyoung. He’s already by the apartment’s elevator, jamming his finger into the button. He doesn’t look at you as he waits, content to stare at the metal door. 

You don’t know where else to look - you want to look anywhere but him. Turning around, you fixate on the floor to ceiling windows. It’s still morning outside, but it’s hard to tell with the way the clouds block out the view, turning everything to mist. 

This high up in the city is reserved for the elite. You can’t imagine why - there’s nothing to look at but clouds, clouds, and more clouds. It’s what makes them have virtual reality rooms in the first place, trying to recreate the experience that they might have if they were wealthy enough to own land. 

The sound of the elevator arriving makes you flinch. Soonyoung ignores you, getting in and leaning against the wall as he hits a button to go to the parking garage. You scramble in after him, a little breathless as the doors close just behind you. 

Immediately you start shooting down several floors. He glares at the wall, unseeing and unfeeling. You swallow thickly, watching the numbers decrease until you’re at Lin’s private parking garage. Soonyoung is out of the elevator before it finishes opening all the way, storming toward the car he’s left running idle. 

Normally someone would open a car door for you. Instead, Soonyoung gets in the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. You reach for the handle of the passenger seat and pause. Normally you sit in the back when being driven somewhere, it’s always been like that. But this is Soonyoung and you’ve always been beside him in the car, his equal. 

A muffled get in the fucking car reaches you. Deciding that sitting next to him is too personal, you open the back seat and slide in. You’ve barely shut the door when he punches the gas, slamming you into the back of the seat as he goes. 

“Would you stop being an asshole?” you seethe, ripping the seatbelt from next to you to buckle in. Your hands are still shaking and it takes a moment for the clasp to click.

Instead of answering, you hear the way the car accelerates under his foot. Scowling, you look out the window. He speeds into the lift that brings the car down to the ground floor. Lights blur by as the lift drops at lurching speed, your stomach in your throat. You hate coming to apartments for this reason, the feeling of having to freefall to leave never growing on you. 

It’s raining when the lift opens to the wet street. Soonyoung peels out on the pavement, tires spinning until they gain traction and the car slides onto the road, narrowly missing someone. You slam against the seatbelt, cursing and clinging onto the door as he pushes the gas down, engine roaring.

“Are you trying to kill us?”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer you. You think it might be because he’s not explicitly trying to kill the two of you, but he doesn’t care if he does. You try not to think about it so much as he powers through the streets of the Upper City, driving past towering businesses, luxury districts with entertainment and bars and apartment buildings. 

The road starts to incline and you hit a line of trees. The city vanishes behind you as Soonyoung drives the car up the winding road, leaving a world of metal and lights for greenery and earth. The contrast between the cities below and the Estates above is stark, especially as he drive’s higher up the mountain, snatches of the city below visible. 

“Why did you come to get me?” you ask, flicking your gaze to the rearview mirror to watch him. Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the road, but you see his mouth tighten. “Last I checked you’re not an errand boy.”

“So what, you check on me?”

“It’s a figure of speech, you know what I mean.”

“The Tower personally requested I come get you.” 

That gives you pause. Soonyoung’s face reveals nothing as he turns on the street that will inevitably lead to the massive metal wall that blocks off the world from the Choi Estate. There can only be a single reason why Soonyoung was sent to fetch you when usually your husband’s staff would do so.

“What’s happened?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he rolls the window down at the guard house to show his face. The security team recognizes him immediately, waving him through as the gate begins to slide open to reveal lush, green jungle. 

Gravel crunches underneath the car tires as he drives through the winding foliage on Choi grounds. Your great-great-grandfather had built the Choi compound, the first of the few elite houses on the mountain. He thought it was important to keep the plant life and sprawling greenery to conserve, but you knew it was really about power. Symbolism. Greenery didn’t really exist in the city, and this much space and plantlife meant wealth. 

The sprawling estate you grew up in reveals itself. Multiple buildings dot the property, making it more a family compound than an estate. Now that Seungcheol is old enough, he’s moved out of the main house and into one of the smaller homes, occupying the space with his own men and staff. Still, he’s just a brief stroll away from your childhood home.

Home. Even two years under a Kim family banner hasn’t erased the feeling of home for you. There is nothing in the house you share with Yijun that makes it feel like you. It is as devoid of love as your marriage, merely a placeholder for you to sleep, eat, and occasionally, try to produce an heir. 

Soonyoung pulls up to the long building that serves as a garage, hitting a button on the car’s screen to open one of the bays. He pulls in slowly, the outside world fading as the garage door shuts behind the car, dousing it in darkness until the neon lights above flicker on. 

Without a word, he powers off the vehicle and gets out. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and get out of the car. He doesn’t wait for you - even shuts the door as he enters the main house so you’re forced to lug it open. 

He’s already opening the door to the main house a few yards away, forcing you again to haphazardly navigate gravel in your heels as you give chase. You’re sweating and irritated by the time you’re up the steps and pushing through the front door, a nasty quip on your lips ready until you see your aunt coming down the stairs. 

“Oh thank goodness,” she says, seeing you. She looks older than you remember, the lines of her face deep and the hair at her temples gray. “Come along.”

“What’s going on?” you ask, uncertain as you step into the foyer and let her take your arm. 

She scowls. “Did that useless boy not tell you? Your mother suffered a heart attack this morning. She’s with Dr. Ymir in the medical wing.”

Your heart thuds to a stop as you wheel around to look over your shoulder at Soonyoung. His gaze is stormy but his face gives away nothing as he turns to leave the way he came, slamming the front door and vanishing down the steps to leave you alone. 

“No,” you mumble as your aunt pulls you down the hall. “He didn’t tell me.” 

Because that’s how much Soonyoung hates you. Hate isn’t even the right word, you think. It is something far deeper and far more sinister, fueled only by taking away something that he valued more than anything else in the world and forcing him to live with it. 

I deserve this, you think as the door to one of the private medical rooms opens, a clinical smell hitting you in the face. I deserve everything that happens to me. 

I deserve this. It’s all you can think of as you watch the black casket lower into the ground. Seungcheol stands beside you, his hands linked in front of him. You want to reach out and take his hand in yours, but you don’t want him to look weak. Don’t want others to see him crack like you know he will if you comfort him. 

Instead, you comfort yourself as best you can, which isn’t saying much. You’ve never been good at dealing with your feelings, too much of your mother’s blood running through you. It was your father’s least favorite trait of yours and perhaps Soonyoung’s favorite.

Soonyoung, who has always been your emotional tether and outlet. You’re not accustomed to dealing with grief alone, and the pull of it feels like an undertow threatening to drag you under and drown you. 

Someone shifts behind you, close enough that you feel Yijun next to you stiffen. You turn to look over your shoulder, blinking in surprise as you tilt your head up to see Soonyoung. He doesn’t look at you, dark eyes fixed forward and jaw flexing tightly. He’s standing closer than is necessary, as shown by your husband’s scoff. 

Soonyoung doesn’t move, though. He remains nearly pressed against your back, so close that you can smell vanilla and sandalwood. Turning away from him, you feel your shoulders relax. He ignores you, but he’s there, a stoic guardian that’s just out of reach.

The Tower of the Choi Syndicate is too lost in his grief to notice or care about Soonyoung’s proximity to you. Your brother couldn’t care less, barely realizing that his brother by choice is an inch away from him. But you know Soonyoung is there and that’s all that matters. 

The grief lessens, turning back from churning waters to gentle, lapping waves.

“Your brother doesn’t respect me,” Yijun asserts. You look at him in the bathroom mirror. He’s standing behind you in the closet, taking out glinting cufflinks to replace them in the countertop in the middle of the aisles of clothes. “You should work on that.”

“Seungcheol hardly takes what I say to heart.”

Yijun snorts, detecting the lie before you can even get it out. Seungcheol very much values your insight and opinion far more than he’s interested in Yijun’s. He’s made it clear at multiple parties and events now, often asking you how business is and how the shared Kim-Choi accounts are doing, despite not having anything to do with them. 

Seungcheol hates your role within the Kim family. On more than one occasion he’s recommended Yijun make use of you somewhere in the family business, to make you the head of operation somewhere so that your schooling and experience weren’t going to waste. Yijun asserted that your social skills were being put to perfect use, entertaining the wives of his associates and serving as the perfect host when his business colleagues and friends were over. 

“He’s going to be leading the family soon,” Yijun sighs. “It would be better for us if he saw me as a real ally.”

“He does see you as an ally. You’re married to his sister.”

“Exactly, so you should remind him that I’m family.” It doesn’t sound like a threat, but it also doesn’t sound like a request. Sighing, you shut the drawer in the counter forcefully. It draws his attention, gaze darkening. “Don’t you want your brother to respect your husband?”

No, you think. You don’t respect your husband, so why should Seungcheol?

Instead, you sigh. “Of course, Yi.” He doesn’t soften at the nickname. “I’ll talk to him, alright? He’s got a lot going on. And don’t talk about my father’s health that way.”

“I didn’t say anything about his health.”

“Please,” you snort. “I know what you meant about Cheol taking over soon.” 

Yijun had been talking about Seungcheol more and more. You’ve watched with a sour taste in your mouth as your husband tries to earn your brother’s attention and trust, flashing what he thinks Seungcheol cares about in his face, telling him about the new car he acquired, or the historical art piece you purchased at an auction, and the new apartment building he’s constructing. 

Seungcheol doesn’t give a fuck about any of that. The Choi family never has. Your ancestors didn’t make a name for themselves and carve it on the mountain they built their home on by showing off their wealth and what it could do for them. They did it by earning it, and by remaining steadfast and intelligent. Political. 

Yijun understands none of that. As the eldest son of his family, it’s a shame. The real world of the Syndicates is lost on him. He has enough business acumen to run companies under his father’s careful tutelage and instruction, but he doesn’t have the social savvy for it, the right drive. 

His brother does. You think of Kim Minchan and nearly shiver. The middle child of the Kim family has more than enough understanding of the way that things work, but the ocean of blood behind him is enough for you to prefer Yijun leading the Kim Syndicate any day. 

“I’m just saying,” Yijun grunts, flicking off the lights in the closet. “Your brother has all the reason in the world to respect me and he doesn’t.” He looks at you, face hardening. “Do you tell him not to? Is that what it is? His baby sister tells him how useless her husband is?” 

Danger is in the air. Yijun won’t lay a hand on you, but it doesn’t make this dance any less stressful. You turn away from the mirror, looking at him fully. He’s not terrible to look at - he has a sharp jaw and a broad nose and a pleasant shaped mouth. He’s handsome, even. 

He’s not Kwon Soonyoung. 

Swallowing away the thought, you reach up to put your hands on his chest, placating. “I wouldn’t do that,” you assure him, softening your voice. You hate the sound of your voice, hate the way you pitch it low and gentle. “You’re a reflection of me too. I would never let my brother think any of those things about my husband.” 

Yijun swats your hands away, making you grit your teeth. “Don’t act like a whore. Just - tell your brother. I should be in his inner circle by now. Make it happen.” 

As Yijun leaves the bathroom, the urge to grab him by his collar and yank him back in to smash his head on the counter almost wins. You stare at him until he vanishes in the bedroom, your rage a live, sentient thing. You feel it crawl beneath your skin, slithering and clawing and biting and begging to be let out. 

Steady is the mountain. You take that fire and shove it down. Years of instinct of reacting with your mother’s temper peter out slowly. It’s a shame - you’re the last woman left from her side of the family, the only one who can carry the fire of the phoenix. 

You glare at the bedroom. Somewhere, Yijun lurks, getting into bed. Oh how the shadows of the weak choke out the fire of the strong. 

If killing Yijun wouldn’t risk everything, you’d have done it already. That first month spent with him where you realized this would not only be a loveless marriage, but a hateful one had almost driven you to it. The Choi Syndicate could surely survive a war with the Kim Syndicate - you had better assets, stronger loyalties, and more money. 

But if the Kim family turned to the Yong family… 

Avoiding unification of the Kim and Yong families is why you were married to Kim Yijun in the first place. To murder him now would mean Syndicate war, and despite the fact that every moment with him is hateful and poisonous, you’re too nervous to put your family at risk. 

Especially with your father’s failing health, as Yijun had pointed out. 

Syndicate war isn’t the only thing keeping you from stabbing Kim Yijun until you can’t feel anything anymore. Minchan’s shadow of a presence lingers over your thoughts, one of the few threats you truly fear. Any harm to his brother would elevate Minchan to a position where he could only wield his power more. 

And he’d hunt you like a bloodhound. You’re unsure if there is any corner of the world he would leave unturned if you killed his brother, no matter how much it would benefit him if Yijun keeled over tomorrow. 

Inside your bedroom is dark. It doesn’t feel like your bedroom at all. There’s nothing homey about it, no possession or unique decor, no pictures. You wouldn’t sleep in here at all if Yijun didn’t make you, insisting that he couldn’t trust any of the house staff not to tell your father you weren’t sleeping in the same room. 

Your father doesn’t care. He stopped caring about anything the day you put your mother into the dirt. Even if he hadn’t, as long as your relationship looked functional to whom it mattered, it mattered little to him if you slept in the same room or if you even liked Kim Yijun.

He’d made that very clear the day he tore away your future with Soonyoung. 

Yijun is already snoring when you climb into bed. You grind your teeth, reaching to pull open the nightstand for noise cancelling earbuds and sleep medication. The medication isn’t as strong as the crushed up knockout you might have used previously, but it helps take the edge off without making you vulnerable to attack. 

Which is something you still worry about. 

Setting your phone on silent, you settle in for sleep. It takes a long time, but you finally drift away to thinking about smothering the man next to you in his sleep. 

Something wakes you. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you sit up in bed and look around the room. It’s dark, but you can see the barely-there outlines of the furniture in your bedroom. Next to you, Yijun is gone. You can feel the lack of presence there more than you can see it, reaching your hand over to confirm the bed is cold and that he’s not been there for a while. 

You reach for the phone on your nightstand but can’t find it. Frowning, you press your hand on the cool marble, sweeping back and forth to no avail. You lean further, finger finding the button to the light function on the stand and press down. 

Dim, lavender light halos the top of the nightstand. Your phone is nowhere in sight. It’s just your jewelry dish, a decanter for water, and your sleep medication. You’re pretty sure that you put your phone face down before you went to bed, but you can’t be sure. 

Pulling open the nightstand drawer only makes the back of your neck sweat. Your phone isn’t there, but neither is the gun you keep in the top drawer. Both you and Yijun sleep armed, despite having armed guards on the premises at all times. 

Snapping the drawer shut, you roll to the other side of the bed and pull his open. A book, a watch, some pill bottles and a pack of cigarettes fill the drawer. No gun. 

The back of your neck tingles. You rip the sheets off of you, heading to the bedroom door. The house is mostly dark when you open it, the entire second floor dim. Leaning over the banister, you can see a shaft of light falling across the room, perhaps coming from the kitchen. 

Quietly, you stalk toward the top of the stairwell, trying to reduce noise as you creep down. A high pitched whine rings in your ears, heart thundering. You have no idea why you’re so afraid all of the sudden, especially in your own house, but your instincts tell you to be alert and quiet. 

At the foot of the stairs, you confirm the light is coming from the kitchen. It’s not uncommon for people to be in the house in the middle of the night. Official Syndicate business happens at any time, and often goes into the early hours of morning. 

Tonight, it’s not busy. Before you’d gone upstairs to bed, you’d noted that it was a skeleton crew security team for the night, just a few of them at the gate house and walking the premises while you and Yijun returned upstairs for the evening alone. 

Creeping toward the hallway, you pause when you hear voices. You identify Yijun’s voice right away, holding your breath and straining your hearing as he says, “What do you want me to do here?” 

“Keep her contained. Make sure no one from her family can reach her.”

“I already took her phone and her gun.”

Your stomach drops. “Good.” That’s Minchan’s voice, you realize, dread growing tenfold. “The second she finds out the Tower has fallen, she’ll try to run or her brother will try to get her.”

“Or that psycho fuck,” Yijun mutters. 

“You’d be lucky if it was Seungcheol who came to get her. If Kwon Soonyoung comes looking, call me immediately. We’ll make our move in two hours. We’ve got the biggest team outside the Choi estate ready to go in and we’ve got men and women stationed at all the key points.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and babysit my wife?”

“Yes.” Minchan’s tone is nonnegotiable. “We’ll leave the guards at the gatehouse but we can’t spare anyone else. This kind of assault requires everyone. The Yong family will take care of the Pearl District and the Salt.” 

Yijun hesitates. “What about the Yoon family? Are they all accounted for?” 

“Yes. I have a team on the crazy one - what do they call her?”

“Angel, I think.”

Minchan laughs. “Demon is more fitting. Stay here. Stay by your phone. We’ll call thirty minutes before we give the signal to link everyone on comms. We do this right, and the Choi Syndicate is gone.” 

Panic presses in for a moment. Your heart hammers. Your hands shake. Bile churns your stomach. It feels like you can’t get enough air, the pieces of what they're talking about falling into place.

The Tower has fallen.

Your father is dead, and in the wake of the crushing blow, the Kim family intends to strike at yours alongside the Yong family. The realization lands like a blow, immediately slapping you out of your panic. 

Fear turns to rage. Rage turns to ice. You are fire, you are the mountain. 

Steadfast is the mountain, but the fire does burn. 

As quietly as you can, you creep up the stairs. You keep turning over your shoulder to ensure Minchan doesn’t leave the kitchen and catch you creeping back toward your bedroom. When you hit the second floor landing, you all but sprint to your room, gears turning. 

Yijun took your phone and intends to keep you locked in the house until they finish their plan. From their discussion, you know they intend to mobilize within two hours, targeting important members of the Choi Syndicate across the city with the help of the Yong family. 

It means you have only a few minutes to warn your family to respond, to prepare and to fight back or strike first. Which is hard to do without a phone, but your husband doesn’t know you nearly as well as he thinks.

Door closed behind you, you flip the lock on the bedroom door and dash for the closet. The lights above come to life, bathing you in ghoulish, grey light. You dive to the floor toward your shelf holding all of your shoes, the carpet burns nothing compared to the pain starting to bloom behind your sternum where your grief builds slowly under your anger. 

Your father is dead. The Kims are going to turn on you anyway. Your marriage to Kim Yijun to secure alliances against the Yong family was for nothing.

You’ve endured for nothing. 

Snatching a pair of boots, you swallow down the bile again. You will not break now, not when there are more important things than the time you’ve wasted withering away in this cold home. Shoving your hand inside the boot, you come into contact with what you were looking for. Your hand closes around the device, yanking it out and powering it on. 

The screen flashes to life. You press one and hold, hearing the buzz on the phone as it begins to ring. You cradle the phone against your shoulder and ear, nearly sick with the adrenaline that is pounding through you, your vision blurring, hands shaking. 

You grab another shoe, this time reaching inside carefully instead of shoving your hand in. The smooth, bone handle of a knife meets your hand and you wrap your fingers around it firmly, pulling it out. 

Soonyoung answers on the fourth ring. “Where are you?” 

“The Kim family has turned on the Chois. They’re mobilizing for a full scale attack in roughly two hours. The Yong family is helping them. They’re at the estate and all over the city - anyone who is important to us regardless of position will need to be warned. The Yong family is handling the Pearl District and the Salt.” 

“How many men are at Yijun’s estate?” You can hear him moving on the other side of the line, something rustling. Perhaps clothes as he gets dressed. “Are you armed?” 

“There are men at the guard house and one walking the perimeter. It’s just me and Yijun inside, I think Minchan is leaving. I’ve got a knife.” 

“Where are you in the house?” 

“Bedroom, second landing to the right and all the way at the end of the hall. There are windows but they don’t open.” 

“Listen to me,” Soonyoung says, voice like ice. “The second we start moving into position to accept the assault, they’ll know something is off. When that happens, Yijun is going to try to kill you, do you understand?” When you say nothing, he asks again, voice louder. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes.”

“I need you to fight back. Either kill him or hold him off until I’m there.” 

“You need to warn-”

“Don’t worry about the fucking Syndicate! We’ll be fine. You’ve given us more than enough time. I need you to be entirely focused on yourself.”

You take a deep breath, letting it out shakily. “Okay.”

“Do you have frostbyte?”

“Maybe? Yijun might have it in the nightstand.”

“Take some. Not enough to fuck you up, but enough to pump that adrenaline and make your head clear. I will be there in thirty minutes.” 

“Okay.” 

You squeeze the phone, unwilling to hang up. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t heard his voice in months. It doesn’t matter that he hates you, it doesn’t matter that you know whatever used to be between you is broken and it’s entirely your fault. You just… don’t want to hang up. 

“Hey.” Soonyoung’s voice is soft, drawing you from your trembling spiral. “Do what I said. Do the frostbyte and kill him if you have to. I have to go.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” Soonyoung pauses, the silence heavy on the line. “I love you.” 

Nothing breaks you like those words, whispered but firm, whispered in case you die before he gets there. He doesn’t have to say that’s why he’s saying it - you know. You know the chance of him not getting there fast enough is likely and real. He does too, but instead of telling you, he gives you this. 

You whisper back, “I love you.” 

Soonyoung hangs up the phone and you fight a sob. You bring the knife up to your hand, pressing your pointer finger down on the tip. The sting is immediate, making you his in pain as blood beads on the tip of your finger, red and garish in the closet lighting. 

The sting grounds you enough to push yourself from the floor, following Soonyoung’s directions to Yijun’s nightstand. You yank it open, rattling around the contents until you find the bag of frostbyte you were hoping was there. Yijun uses it the nights he attempts to put an heir in you, numbing himself the way you never did, taking your punishment for what you’d done to Soonyoung raw.

Not enough to fuck me up, you think, untwisting the bag and shaking. Just enough to make it easier. 

Dipping the tip of your knife into the bag, you pull out a small lump of the glittering drug. You try not to think about that night at the club all those years ago, when you and Soonyoung were still dancing around one another’s feelings, doing anything you could to get a reaction out of one another. 

You take a sharp breath in. The drug hits your nasal passage and it burns, your eyes smarting as you tilt your head up, cursing and blinking away the tears. It hits the back of your throat, bitter and awful as you cough a little, trying to wait for it to clear your nasal passage.

When the burning subsides a little, you do it again. It’s less harsh than the first bump but still just as awful, making you wonder how the fuck you did this on the weekend with your friends as a teenager. Tossing the back on the nightstand, you stand waiting, closing your eyes and trying to do deep breathing exercises your therapist taught you to calm down. 

Frostbyte works fast. It hits your bloodstream and an electric calm comes over you. Everything comes into sharper focus, the adrenaline pumping as your simmering rage turns to a boil, ready to kick the fucking door down and hunt down Yijun yourself.

Nerves fade away to the background of your mind. You walk toward the door, waiting to the side so when Yijun ultimately kicks it down, you’re ready. 

Ten minutes pass. The entire time your ears are ringing, heart thundering in your chest. You think the frostbyte was a good idea - if you had to wait in silence like this without it, you would have gone crazy by now. Even with the drug, fear nips at your ankles, a hound ever on your tail. 

Yijun’s footsteps thunder up the stairs. Your heart lurches and you inch away from the door, readying yourself. He storms down the hall, fury in each step until he gets to the door and turns the handle. It doesn’t move. He tries a few more times, shaking the door. 

His roar on the other side of the door is loud and feral, making you grin as he thrashes against the door, cursing and screaming at you. The door holds, rattling in place as he slams what you think is his shoulder into it multiple times. 

The bombardment pauses for a second and then restarts ten times stronger. This time, you recognize that it’s his foot slamming into the side of the door. You realize he’s kicking where the door is latched, trying to break it open instead of kicking through it. 

A small crack sounds. You take a breath, readying yourself as you hear another snap go through the door, now rattling loose in its frame. He kicks hard again and the door blows open, nearly smacking you as it does. You roll away from it on the wall, keeping close as Yijun barrels past you, swinging his head from left to right as he looks for you.

It’s your only chance to get the jump on him. You slide from the dark, heart hammering. You’ve never stabbed anyone before, but you’ve practiced. You drive the knife upward, intending to puncture his kidneys. Yijun twists a little to the side, sensing your presence as the knife plunges into his side. 

Yijun screams. Your satisfaction only lasts a second before he throws his elbow backward, catching you in the nose. Pain explodes in your face, blinding you as your eyes water and you stumble backward hands shooting to your face. 

Removing the knife from his side, Yijun screams at you, spit flying as he comes at you. Through tears and warm blood rushing from your nose, you reach for anything to use as a weapon. Your hand closes on the ceramic artwork on the dresser and you launch it at him, hitting him hard in the face. 

The ceramic shatters and he drops the knife. You dive for it but he grabs you by the hair, ripping you upward and backward like a ragdoll. You lose your footing, screaming as he tightens his fist in your hair and drags you toward the bed, tossing you there. 

With a feral shout, you kick your foot forward, catching him in the lower gut. He grunts but wraps his hand around your ankle, yanking you back off the bed onto the floor, where the knife lays. You reach for it, seething, your hands managing to close around it just as he pivots, foot landing against your ribcage. 

Again, pain explodes inside of you. With the frostbyte, you barely recognize it, grabbing the knife and stabbing him in the calf. He shrieks and collapses to a knee, reaching for the knife. This time you rip it back out, nearly losing your grip on the bone handle, fingers slippery with blood. 

You stab him again, this time in the thigh. His knee presses into your stomach, crushing you and forcing air from your lungs. You ignore the pain, stabbing him again and again in the thigh until he falls backward off of you, muscles malfunctioning, tendons give away. 

Yijun kicks out at you with his good leg but you’re already moving, ignoring the way your body is screaming in utter agony, every part of you throbbing and begging you to give up. 

You don’t. You scramble on top of him. His hands shoot up to your throat but you spit at him, a spray of blood blinding him and making his grip loosen momentarily. It’s enough to bring the knife down home again, this time directly in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

For a second, he fights back. You hear the wet gasp and he thrashes, but you stab him again. And again and again and again and again -

You think about all of the times that you were forced to submit to him. 

And again and again and again - 

The way he heaved himself on top of you, trying to force a child into you so he could be done with you, the way you’d wish it had been Soonyoung instead. 

And again and again and again - 

The way Soonyoung’s face broke that morning, begging you not to do this to him. 

And again and again and again -

All for the Kim family to turn on the Choi’s anyway, wasting the entire time you’ve spent under lock and key, doing Yijun’s bidding while Soonyoung hated you. Loathed you. Wish you never happened to him. 

Again and AGAINANDAGAINANDAGAINAND- 

Yijun isn’t moving under you. Your hand is warm and wet, the knife becoming slippery as you let it go. It clatters to the floor and you sit backward on his knees. He’s unmoving as you heave, sucking down air that tastes like iron and salt. 

Sweat slicks the back of your neck and down your spine. Somewhere in the house, there’s a crashing noise. You leap for the knife, rolling off of Yijun’s mutilated body toward the door, positioning yourself in a defensive position as feet thunder up the stairs. 

You bare your teeth, knowing this is it. Knowing Soonyoung hasn’t come quickly enough but it doesn’t matter, because you warned them and they are safe. Your penance for destroying him has been paid in half, though never full, and -

Soonyoung appears in the doorway. He looks like an angel from hell, wreathed in shallow light that comes from the first floor, his silver hair stained with blood. He’s in black trousers and a short-sleeve shirt with his favorite band on it - one of his sleep shirts. 

For less than a second, he stares at you. Then, Soonyoung dives at you, dropping the gun in his head and grabbing you. You hadn’t realized that you’d sunk to your knees, looking up at him as he grabs your face, turning you this way and that. He’s asking you a question but you can’t understand him, dizzy and confused and in so much pain that the edge of your vision wavers. 

“Baby,” Soonyoung begs, his voice warped and echoey. “Hey, I need you to answer me. Where are you bleeding?” 

“S’mostly his,” you answer, feeling how heavy your tongue is. Your thoughts are sticky and slow. Concussed, you think. “Maybe broke my nose.” 

Soonyoung’s thumb brushes gently across your cheek, smearing blood. “Can you walk if I help you?”  You think about it. Shake your head. “Okay. I’m going to lift you up, alright? Tell me where it hurts so I don’t hurt you, Baby.” 

“Ribs.” 

“Left or right?” 

You pause, breathing in and feeling the pain bloom. “Right.” 

“Okay, tell me if I hurt you, okay? We’re going to take you home.”

“Thank you.” Soonyoung hesitates at your tone, looking at you. His eyes are vulnerable and open, more raw than you have seen them since you were kids. “You didn’t have to come get me.” 

He stares and stares at you. The world fades a little and Soonyoung lifts you toward him. “Of course I did,” he murmurs, so soft you barely hear what he’s saying. “When you say jump, remember?”

“Where's this?” You mumble, looking out the window at a small home behind high gates.

Soonyoung has been driving for an hour and a half, his silence nearly unbearable as you both left the city. You don’t ask about where you’re going or if everyone is okay - you don’t think you can stomach the answers right now. Not while in the car. 

Rain mists through the window as Soonyoung rolls it down to punch in a code in front of the gate. It flashes green and the metal starts to roll open, revealing a large but modest house - at least by Syndicate standards. He drives through, gravel crunching beneath the tires. 

“Safe House. Very few people know it exists.” 

“Are we in Levin?” He nods his head. You’ve never been to the small town, but you know it’s mostly a vacation village on the coast. “Who does this place belong to?” 

“Me.” You look at him, surprised. “I bought it when you… got engaged.” 

It’s like a stone sinking to the bottom of your stomach. You don’t have to ask why. It was his failsafe for you, a way to get you away from Yijun if you had just asked. 

You should have asked. Should have just thrown it away and called him, should have begged him from your knees- 

Soonyoung turns the car off and opens the door. You open yours, rain pattering against your red skin. He rushes to help you out of the car, hands hovering around you, unsure where to touch. It makes you want to sob. You want him to touch you anywhere - everywhere. 

Instead, he leads you to the house, a hand wrapped firmly around your forearm to keep you upright and steady as you walk up the steps. 

A porch light flickers on. You cringe away from the brightness, squinting through your fingers as the door opens to reveal Vernon standing on the other side. His eyes flicker between the two of you and he nods, stepping to the side to let you in. 

Warmth blankets you as Soonyoung shuts the door. You’re standing in a small entryway with a staircase to the right leading to the second floor. Straight on, the lights are on, revealing a sliver of the living room. You can hear voices pause as they hear the door shut. 

Angel materializes in the doorway, her hair damp. She’s dressed down like she recently showered, her eyes on you as she heaves a sigh of relief. “It’s Hoshi and Baby,” she calls over her shoulder, coming forward. 

Soonyoung nudges you toward Angel gently. “Take her to shower.” 

“Yeah of course.” 

“Where’s Seungcheol?” You ask, turning to look at Soonyoung, who is already looking at his phone, holoscreen lighting up his face. 

“On his way. The main crew is safe.” He hesitates. “We lost Lan, Old Man Vero and Yoon Minji.” 

Your heart seizes, eyes darting to Angel. “Angel, I’m-”

“Jeonghan is taking care of it.” For the first time in years, you hear a note of pain in her voice, raw and real. Angel has - had - a complicated relationship with her step-mother, the matriarch of the Yoong family. “I’ve already satiated my vengeance. This is his. Come on.” 

You hesitate. Soonyoung nudges you toward the stairs gently by the hip, suddenly looking tired. “Go. I’m going to find a doctor for that nose.” 

“Is it terrible?” 

He huffs, trying not to laugh. “No, but it needs to be fixed. Go. Shower.” 

I love you. It’s on the tip of your tongue, right there. I love you. It’s all you can think about, thundering in your ribcage. I love you. It consumes you, makes you freeze up, staring at him. I love you. 

Angel tugs your wrist delicately and breaks the spell. You follow her up the stairs. She’s careful with you, making you take one step at a time. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her so gentle, her eyes softened with worry and her touch on you delicate as butterfly wings. 

Upstairs, she leads you into a room that smells like vanilla and sandalwood. Soonyoung. This room belongs to Soonyoung. You spot his subtle touches, a gaming computer shoved in the corner and powered off. A closet with a metal door that is under lock and key. A single gun sitting on top of the nightstand. 

But what makes the room spin is the touches of you. A teakwood candle sitting on the dresser. Weighted blankets folded at the end of the bed. A bookshelf with all your favorite titles. A jar of saltwater taffy in multiple flavors. 

Angel hesitates by the bathroom door, watching you drink in the room. You turn to her, shaking your head, confused and mouth open. She nods. “I know. I didn’t know either.” 

“I could live and die a thousand times and never deserve him.” 

“I’m not the best judge of character, but I don’t think I believe that to be true.” 

Angel isn’t the best judge of character. But she also doesn’t say things she does not mean. She’s the last person in the world to offer words of comfort, and yet she’s standing in the bathroom staring at you like she can see through you, right down to the very core. 

Maybe she can. Seeing what is rotting people on the inside and sniffing out their weaknesses is what she does best. 

Instead of pointing out where you hurt, she manages to get you into the bathroom. It’s spacious but not grand like what you’re used to - it’s small. Safe. She starts the shower and backs away, helping you get out of your bloody clothing. 

Everything hurts so bad. Your ribs ache, the bruising on them blotchy and horrendous as Angel peels back your shirt. She thankfully doesn’t react - she’s seen worse and done worse. Suddenly, you realize why Soonyoung picked her to help you. She’s steady, her fingers sure as she holds your arm while you pull your pants down.

You don’t dare look in the mirror. From what you can see without it, it’s already bad enough. Yijun hadn’t dealt fatal damage, but you know you’re bruised and covered in dry, flaking blood. 

Angel leaves you in the shower, shutting the door to go sit on the sink, a guardian willing to give you space but ready to help when you need it. Shaking, you shuffle into the stream of hot water, hissing when it hits your skin. 

It’s both heaven and hell. The hot water feels so good on your aching muscles and throbbing pain, but it also hurts when the water taps against your nose, reminding you that it is indeed broken. You suck in sharp air as you slowly begin to work your fingers into your skin, turning the water pink as you wash off the blood. 

Blood that belongs to you. Blood that belongs to Yijun.

Yijun. 

You’re not sorry you killed him. It was satisfying and necessary. But… the weight of your grief comes crashing into you. You could have killed him years ago and ran. Could have gone crawling back to Soonyoung and asked for his help. Could have told him that the only reason you ever agreed to marry him in the first place was to protect him. 

None of it mattered. You bought him a paltry couple years worth of protection and for what? To shackle yourself to a man who thought little of you, who wanted to fuck you until you gave him another version of himself, who wanted to kill you at every moment because he knew you didn’t respect him and because he was afraid of you and the way you command respect from your family, but he never did.

All that time you’d made yourself smaller for him. Held back your bite. Hid your teeth. Mourned Soonyoung everyday, knowing that you’d never touch him again, that he would never kiss you again, that you’d never wake up in the morning when he got home from work and crawled into bed with you.

A potential lifetime of happiness, one of your own making, wasted on a promise that they broke anyway. 

For nothing. It had been for nothing, you’d hurt Soonyoung for nothing, shut him out, promised you would never leave him and threw him away, forced him to jump for you, forced him to leave you when he said he wouldn’t all for nothing nothing nothing nothing notHING NOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHING-

Angel’s arms are around you. You startle, looking up to see that she is in the shower fully clothed, holding you to her. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying - screaming - in the shower. She presses you closer to her, the only way she knows how to tell you that she’s got you. She’s there. She understands. 

You crumble, leaning heavily on her as you let it out, sobbing. Your throat is raw, your face throbbing each time you squeeze your eyes shut. Angel says nothing, content to hold you while her clothes soak up the water, weighing her down as you let out your grief in full, ugly waves. 

Eventually, the water starts to get cold and your tears start to dry up. You sniff and groan, the pain in your face so poignant that it can’t be ignored. Lifting your head from her shoulder, you glance at her boots, soaked and murky red around the edges.

“Can I tell you something?” Angel asks, voice low. You nod. She hesitates, putting the words together before she says, “He’s going to accept you back. He’s going to do it with no conditions, and ask nothing of you. You’re going to want to torture yourself and beg for his forgiveness and deny yourself of him because you think you should be punished, that there is not a god powerful enough to hurt you the way you deserve.”

You blink in surprise. Angel isn’t religious, despite the nickname. She also isn’t overly emotional or wordy. But you see the severity in which she tells you this, see the pain in her eyes. You remember that she has demons far older than yours, ones that have followed her since childhood. 

And she’s right. She reads you like a book, seeing the fucking pain radiating inside of you, the desire to be punished and hated and whipped- 

“Let him take you back.” Her words are firm. “Don’t make him punish you. Don’t believe for a second that Soonyoung wants to make you pay. He doesn’t. He doesn’t care what you did or why. Just… let him have you. You’ve endured enough.” 

You nod. “Alright. I’ll try.”

“Good. Um - can we get out of the shower though? It’s very cold in here.” 

You laugh, immediately followed by a groan. “Please don’t make me laugh. I am in so much pain.” 

“Yeah, let’s go get you some drugs, dude.” 

The three Syndicates of the city are officially at war. Of all the news that has poured in over the last few days, this is the least surprising. When you’d seen Seungcheol that first night after everything went to hell, he’d held you close and promised that he would kill every last Kim in the city.

He had also told you he was proud of you. Not just for surviving Yijun long enough for Soonyoung to come get you, but for being able to warn the family what was coming. Your single warning alone had saved them a great deal and wounded the Kim Syndicate more than you could understand. 

The days following your father’s death are strange. It doesn’t feel like he’s dead - at least, you haven’t truly processed it yet. There are things that demand your attention like being seen by Dr. Ymir for your fractured nose and bruised ribs, and the accounts and logistics of what being at war with the Kim and Yong family truly means. 

On the fifth day at the safe house, you go back home. Seungcheol makes you ride with him, unwilling to let you out of his sight these days. You’re the only two members of the Choi family left, and it’s up to the two of you to rally the troops and remind everyone what the mountain can do. 

Seungcheol replaces your father as the Tower of the Choi Syndicate. Typically there’s a small ceremony to pass the torch so to speak, but there’s no time for that. Seungcheol is buried in problems and trying to maneuver the family into a favorable position, but it’s hard - the Yongs and Kims have been preparing this for a while. 

You’re suddenly given a job again. Fresh in his position leading the family, Seungcheol needs those he trusts by his side, immediately appointing you as the Architect of the Syndicate. There’s no one he trusts more with the finances and the logistics of the businesses under the Choi banner and who have pledged to his family. 

With Yoon Minji’s death, Jeonghan’s takes his rightful side as the Wisdom and second in command to Seungcheol. It’s like you’d always known it would be as a kid, but it brings you no joy to see the two of them together in an office until the early hours of the morning, worn at the edges and sick with the grief they’re ignoring to push forward. 

With no surprise, Seungcheol immediately promotes Soonyoung to the lead military position, rising from Sword to Sentinel in a single night. It’s the same position his father held under your father, and Soonyoung takes it with steely resolve. 

It also means you don’t see him. You move back into your old room at home. At first, it doesn’t feel like your room at all because Soonyoung isn't in it. He had moved into your room when you first started dating, spending two years in that bed with you. Now, he’s taken up residence in his room down the hall, so close and yet the distance feels larger than ever. 

Of all the problems mounting for you to solve, Soonyoung is the most important. You know he shouldn’t be. There are a thousand other things that you need to figure out, like how to assure that the businesses you own in and near the Kim and Yong family territories won’t go under or be attacked, or how to assure that payment to the family won’t increase now that there’s a fight. 

Your days are filled with countless meetings, assuring loyal patrons that the Choi Syndicate will not fall and will not fail them, and that the Choi’s protect their own. You can see the fear in people’s eyes - the city hasn’t had the big three at war in a long time. Already the city officials are cracking down on Syndicate activity to try and establish order. 

It’s farcical at best. 

Squeezing your temples between your fingers, you lean back from the desk in your newly appointed office - which is really just your father’s. It feels weird to be in here. It still smells like leather and sweet tobacco, a little bit of smoke hanging in the air. 

The last time you’d been in this office, you’d fallen to your knees and begged him not to make you marry Kim Yijun. Now you sit at the desk, hanging up the phone as another call ends - not as bad as the first, but not as good as you’d hoped. 

Quickly, you scribble down a summary of the call to give to Seungcheol. You know he’ll read every word you write, determined to hear each concern of those under Choi patronage, whether they’re valid or not. 

At the sound of the door opening, you glance up. Soonyoung sticks his head in, surprising you. You straighten in your seat, heart racing when you take him in. His silver hair has grown longer, tapered a bit at the neck. He’s dressed in all black but he’s clean, indicating that he showered not that long ago. You thought he would be out all day like usual, looking at your watch to see he’s back far earlier than normal.

“Is everything alright?” You start to get up and he rushes to you, hands lifting to help you. “I’m alright. I am well on the mend.”

He chews his lip, nodding before dropping his hands hesitantly. “Everything’s fine I just.” He hesitates. “Do you want to eat lunch?” 

“Oh. Sure.”

Soonyoung’s smile is tentative. Shy. You give him one back, following him out of the office while sending a quick note to Jihoon that you’ll meet with him later. He sends a thumbs down back, less than pleased that you’ve not made time to talk to him about your potential murder charges for Yijun. 

“Are you busy? We don’t have to-”

“It’s just Jihoon.” 

“Ah. He’s persistent, are you sure-”

“I want to have lunch with you, Soonyoung.” 

He blushes and you grin. “Alright,” he murmurs. “When you say jump and all that.” 

That makes you pause. “You don’t have to do anything I tell you.” 

“What?” He stops walking, confused. 

“You don’t have to ask how high if I tell you to jump... I’m wrong a lot of the time. I don’t… want to be that.” 

I don’t want to repeat my mistakes. You don’t say it, but you think Soonyoung senses it when he says, “I’ve always wanted to jump for you. That hasn’t changed.” 

Let him take you back. Don’t make him punish you. 

Angel’s words come back to you so you swallow down your guilt and you nod, giving him a tentative smile that he returns. This time, he holds out his hand to take you in the kitchen. You take it, the feeling of his fingers wrapping around yours both foreign and familiar. 

The way he holds your hand in his makes you tremble. It’s something so simple and benign and yet you’re screaming on the inside, looking at where your fingers twine together like it’s everything, like it’s the only thing. 

Lunch consists of very badly burned grilled cheese. You don’t care because Soonyoung makes it, insistent that he wants to and that he can. He’s good at a lot of things, particularly on the spectrum of murder and weapons, but he is terrible at putting bread, cheese and butter in a pan. 

You eat it anyway, burnt bread and all. He sits next to you, his stool pulled so close that your thighs touch. You want to reach out and brush your fingers across his face, down his neck, through his hair. You want to touch until you’re grabbing, grab until you’re pulling. 

Instead, you let him lead this dance, too afraid to initiate. 

Let him take you back. Don’t make him punish you. 

You don’t, but you can’t let go of the fear of rejection. Can’t bring yourself to toe the line beyond what he’s giving you, which is more than you ever dreamed of. So you accept when he offers to take your plate, fingers brushing over the top of your hand either by design or by accident you don’t know. His touch makes you shiver and he notices, pausing. 

Slowly, you look up at Soonyoung. His eyes are dark and misty as ever, churning with emotion that you’re a little too afraid to read. Instead of taking the plates to the sink, he sets them down and reaches for you, cradling your face in his hands. 

A sob works its way up your throat but you force it down. You will not cry over this. You will not make him comfort you. 

“Are you afraid to touch me?” His question is gentle. You nod, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb brushes back and forth across your cheekbone. “Why?” 

“I… want to so badly. I just want it to be your choice.” 

“I want you to.” You open your eyes. His earnestness is right on the surface of him, rippling for you to see. “I’m dying for it. Please.” 

Soonyoung’s please sounds like that morning he’d begged you all that time ago. It freezes you in place, heart beating like a prey animal in fight or flight. He steps closer, his breath on your forehead when he whispers, “Please.” 

Slowly, you bring your hands up to his wrists. Licking your lips, you place your hands on him. His eyes close. His skin is warm to the touch and you feel him tremble as you brush your hands upward, tracing his forearms, his corded biceps. You brush your fingertips over the sleeves of his shirt and toward his neck until you’re cupping his throat, your thumbs resting against his hammering pulse. 

You close your eyes, remaining still. Both of you remain that way, his hands on your face, yours on his neck. You’re shaking under his touch, feel his breath against your forehead. His fingers add a little pressure to your face, careful not to hurt you where your bruise is finally fading on your nose as he turns you to look up at him. 

Soonyoung licks his lips, eyes open. “There is not a second I didn’t love you.”

And there it is. The admission that he never hated you. You bet he tried - you know he tried. You know the inside of Soonyoung’s soul better than you know your own, no part of him hidden to you even with time. 

“I don’t care why you did it,” he continues. “Not anymore. Not after everything. I don’t care about any of it. I just… want you.”

“Soonyoung-”

“I know you’re sorry. I know you hate yourself. I know there is guilt eating away at you. Get over it, because none of it changes how I feel. I love you. You’re mine. I don’t want to leave you again. You cannot make me.” 

“I know. I won’t make you.” 

“Good.” Soonyoung presses his forehead to yours gently. He’s careful not to knock noses with you too hard, aware of the pain it’ll cause. “I cannot do any of this without you.” 

“I know.”

Soonyoung’s mouth is tentative when it presses against yours. Your grip on him tightens, leaning forward into the kiss. It is everything - the only thing. You feel something wet on your face, thinking that you’ve got another nosebleed, but when you pull away, you realize it’s because Soonyoung is crying.

Crying for the first time since his parents died. 

You stand up from the stool, gripping the back of his neck to pull him toward you. He melts under your touch, letting you meld your mouths together. He tastes like his burnt sandwich and like him, his mouth warm and wet against yours. Vanilla and sandalwood invade your senses, overwhelming as you grip him for dear life, never wanting to let him go.

He doesn’t want to let you go either. His grip on your hips is crushing, fingers digging into flesh and bone as though he can force you to become one. The thought makes you dizzy. You slide your fingers in his silk-soft hair, wrapping the strands around them to pull lightly, pull him closer, pull him to you, pull him back. 

Soonyoung whines against your mouth and you break the kiss, panting. “Take me upstairs,” you whisper between peppering kissing against his mouth, his bottom lip, the corner of his lips. “Please take me upstairs.” 

He does. Soonyoung grabs you by the hands, tugging you toward the stairs that lead to your room - the room you used to share. The room that still smells like him, even if faintly. He takes you to your bed, where you’ve spent hundreds of nights with him, and lays you down gently like he has a million times before. 

Soonyoung touches you like you’re holy. His hands skim over you in worship, they scratch you in penance, they hold you in reverence. He slots himself between your knees, stealing a kiss from you like it’ll breathe new life into him, bare him anew, purge him of sin. 

You love him. You love him you love him you love him you love him you love him -

A moan leaves his mouth when your nails drag down his back. He is quaking under your touch, his mouth hungry but careful against yours, wanting to swallow you whole but knowing you’re hurt. You know he won’t break you but you wish he would.

There’s time for that later. Now isn’t the time for rough and biting. Now, Soonyoung peels the shirt from your skin, immediately covering your arms, chest, collarbones, shoulders in kisses. You vibrate under his touch, lashes fluttering as he sucks at the sensitive skin of your neck, tongue pressed flat to your pulse as he tastes you. 

You tug at his shirt and he complies, leaning upward to toss it. He’s back on you in a second, pressing you close, hip to hip as he tangles his tongue with yours, drinking you in. His touch ignites a fire and you’re burning, a complete inferno as you drag your fingers up the hard contour of his stomach to the firmness of his chest and around to his shoulders. 

“I love you,” he mutters against your mouth, rolling his hips into you. You let out a breathy sound and he groans. “Fuck I love you. I missed you. I love you.” 

“Please,” you beg. He understands, burying his face in your neck and biting down lightly. You feel like you’re going to burn up under him, an out of control blaze while his fingers work the buttons on your pants. “Never let me go.”

“Never.” 

Jeans scrape down your legs, his hands following. He drags his blunt nails down your thighs. Your hips twitch upward, loving the scratch, loving the way he touches you, loving him. He returns his mouth to yours, unable to get enough of your kissing. 

Soonyoung’s hand slips between your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressing against your clit through your underwear. You keen for him, pulling at the long strands of hair at the back of his neck. He moans in tandem, his pleasure driven by yours, loving the way you sound as you start to come apart under the gentle circle of his fingers. 

He only teases you a little, knowing the friction with the fabric between his fingers and your aching cunt isn’t enough. He finally decides that you’ve had enough, hooking a finger to pull them aside, the cool air hitting your sticky folds. 

Before you can complain, Soonyoung’s touch is there. He drags his fingers slow-soft from top to bottom, circling your clit slowly. He’s not in a hurry, dragging it out as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, sliding his fingers back down to press against your entrance but not breach it. 

You whine and he grins, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth until he lets go with a pop. “I love those sounds you make.” 

“Feels good,” you admit, head falling to the side as you close your eyes, enjoying the pressure he puts on your clit, wiggling his fingers back and forth. Your thighs close around his hand but he’s unbothered, drawing more arousal from you as he plays. “Fuck, your fingers.” 

His laugh is throaty and he shakes his head, attaching his mouth to your jaw where he sucks at the skin. He makes himself comfortable with nibbling toward your neck, both of his hands reaching for the sides of your underwear to pull them down. You let him, folding your knees toward your for a moment to help. 

Soonyoung’s hand returns to the wetness between your legs except this time, he’s not teasing. He presses a finger in deep and you whine, hips wiggling. You squeeze down on his finger, pussy spasming as he begins to pump leisurely, like he has all the time in the world.

And he does, doesn’t he? The work is far from done and the world is falling apart, but it doesn’t matter because he’s here with you. Because Soonyoung is yours again - always has been - and because he’s drawing your mouth toward his to kiss you messily, swallowing down your moans as he presses in another finger. 

Now you crumble beneath him. You can’t stop your hips from coming off the bed. You loop your arms around his neck, keeping him close, breathing the same air. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes impossible dark and half-lidded as he hooks his fingers, dragging them against that sensitive spot. 

You cry out his name and he grins. Now he knows where it is, pressing repeatedly as he fucks you on his fingers, driving you directly toward an orgasm. Your breathing becomes labored, your legs squeezing his hips, your fingers digging into his shoulders. It is so good that you think you might die, letting him yank you toward release. 

Soonyoung kisses you again and you come crashing down, cumming around his fingers, body squeezing, ignoring the ache in your ribs and the millions of other places that you’re sore. He doesn’t slow down, scissoring his fingers to pry you open, to stretch you more.

“Soonyoung,” you gasp, voice wrecked. “Soonyoung Soonyoung Soonyoung.” 

“Just like that,” he agrees. You can tell he loves the way you say his name, knows that on your tongue it means something different. “Come on, one more.” 

You’ll give him anything he wants. Never again will you deny him. You let him work you up again, feeling the way your breath gets stuck in your lungs and you shiver, another wave washing through you as you shudder around his fingers. 

When you start to pant, he pulls his fingers out. You feel the wet schlick as he does, immediately hating the way you feel empty, hating the way he leans away from you. Whining, you reach out toward him, needy. He hushes you with a brief kiss, only standing to rid himself of his jeans and briefs. 

Using the fingers covered in your arousal, Soonyoung pumps his cock, smearing a mixture of your slick and his precum down his shaft as he kneels on the bed again, taking his place between your thighs again. You watch with hooded eyes as he rubs the head of his cock through your messy folds, a moan dripping from your lips. 

Soonyoung is beautiful, skin flushed and a sheen of sweat on his arms. His stomach flexes and clenches as he presses the tip of his cock into your entrance, both of you taking a shaky breath together. He slowly slides home, the stretch of him driving you wild, pussy fluttering around him until he’s slotted to the hilt. 

He hangs his head, panting as he plants his hands on either side of your head. He takes a moment to collect himself, shaking. You turn your head to the side, kissing his wrist, peppering any skin you can reach with your love while your hands drift up his back, feeling the muscles flex. 

When he begins to move, you nearly die. It feels so good, your breath lodged in your throat. He lowers his face to yours, kissing you as gently as he fucks you. His thrusts are deep and timed, not hard or fast but slow and measured, pressing all the way in as he uses his weight to his advantage. 

Your fingers turn to talons on his back, nails biting his shoulder blades. He’s precise, the tip of his cock finding the right angle to make you nearly sob in a matter of a few thrusts. It’s familiar. Home. 

Soonyoung lowers himself to his forearms, pressing your chests together. The friction of his skin against your pert nipples makes you squeeze around him, his name a whisper on swollen, kiss-bitten lips. He presses his forehead to yours, breathing shakily as he continues to fuck you.

You feel him everywhere, feel everything that he wants to say. Soonyoung has never needed words to communicate to you and he doesn’t now, the way he shakes as he lets out a wispy moan enough, the way he slides one of his arms under your back to cradle you to his chest, closer closer closer.

He wants to be closer and so do you, arms around his neck, drawing him to you. You never want to let him go, never will let him go. You’ve learned your lesson and this, right here with him is the only thing that matters. 

“Shh,” he hushes. You realize you’re crying, tasting salt on your lips when he brushes his mouth against yours. “I know.” 

“I love you.”

“I know.” 

Soonyoung’s pace picks up only a little bit. It’s enough, sending you careening toward your third orgasm. He can feel it - needs it. He chases after your high, catching your mouth to brush his tongue against yours, rolling his hips until you’re clenching around him, whining into his mouth, lips buzzing against his.

He hums against you, waiting until your pussy lets go of its vice grip to speed up a little bit, the wet smack of his hips against yours loud and lewd, driving him forward until he comes, your name on his lips, his face buried in your neck. His thrusts slow, both of you trembling like leaves until he finally stops, remaining seated inside of you. 

“I will love you for a thousand lifetimes,” he mutters against your mouth, with no intention of moving. “You know that, right Baby?” 

You nod, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung,” you rasp, quoting yourself that first night he finally caved, where he finally told you that he couldn’t exist without you. “I will never go anywhere ever again.” 

TAG LIST

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If you do not see your tag here, it didn't work.

SYNDICATE ROLES

Tower - title for a Syndicate boss Wisdom - title for the second-in-command to a Sydicate boss Sentinel - title for the main military leader of a Syndicate Riots - title for a member of the Syndicate responsible for sowing discord Swords - title for a member of the Syndicate who is a fighter/military role Chariots - members of the Syndicate who make deals/act as business brokers Rooks - members of the Syndicate who collect debts/lead the extortion practices Justices - members of the Syndicate on the legal counsel Hanged Men - members of the Syndicate who betrayed their Syndicate Watchers - members of a Syndicate who are spies/informants Patrons - citizens who pay homage/have an alliance/are under the protection of a Syndicate Vanguard - official members of the Syndicate who don't have specific roles but do work for the Syndicate

[midwestvash]

Alright!

I’ve officially decided to return to this site after years of being away.

Let me (re)introduce myself, I’m Mandi I’m 29, from the Midwest and I’m a veteran here on this hell site.

(For those who I’m moots with who still are here, my old urls were bokutosupport, seasaltsisa, lashton2k13, poedamson, and martinimagnus)

I’m a cosplayer, makeup fiend and collector of far too many things.

My current big interests are:

• Trigun

• IT movies (2017/2019)

• Hazbin Hotel

•Horizon Zero Dawn games

•Haikyuu!!

• Chainsaw Man

• Kingdom Hearts (yes still)

• Vocaloid

• The Sims

• Halsey (again. Yes still)

• 5SOS (my roots here!)

I’d love to make some new moots to be active on here again 🩷

[moe-broey]

I <3 blowing up my save files mid-playthrough or after I've beaten the game and feel aimless or I'm three hours in and incredibly indecisive and perfectionistic and have to start over Better this time or I just get really into One Idea and blow up the save for the sole purpose of achieving the One Idea and once I have it's like. Well. What was the point of that actually. And then I blow it up again

[the-way-astray]

lyrical breakdown . . .

(Verse 1)

There once was a boy from a series for kids

Fan favorite, created as comic relief

exactly!!!! he was created as comic relief!!!! actually he wasn’t even supposed to exist, but. anyway why did shannon give him the legacy plotline . . . please . . . go back to when he was just a side character . . .

But there was a girl who didn’t find him comedic

Her name was Stria, his name was Keefe

accurate.

(Verse 2)

So let’s just say for this song they’re the same age

And either she’s fictional too or he’s real

he should be real so i can put him in the very real dirt

And Stria for some reason is her given name

lmfaoooo i have definitely explained this one. it comes from astray, like my username. astray -> astrya -> strya -> stria . . . we ignore that it means stretch marks. i did not know that

Just wait for what their story will make you feel

hopefully unadulterated rage. that's what it's making me feel

(Chorus)

An unlikely couple

Hatred to love

LOVE IS CRAZY . . . and yes we are unlikely. in fact we are extinct

She was nothing to him

Now she’s more than enough

keefe would not give two shits about me . . . i would be nothing to him. actually

She thought he was toxic

i still think that. actually

Now she understands

One must always follow

What their heart commands

MY HEART IS COMMANDING ME TO HATE KEEFE IRWIN SENCEN

(Verse 3)

She wrote a whole rant about everything wrong

With how he would talk and the way that he’d act

this is correct. almost the only part of this song that isn't slanderous lies

The day they met she said she was right all along

Told him off and rolled her eyes when he said he felt “attacked”

how did we meet in the song's lore . . . and okay keefe. feel attacked. see if i care. in fact this should encourage you to consider staying away . . .

(Verse 4)

But Keefe had this thing where he hated himself

He was going through it, that much was for sure

pro keefe propaganda in a strieefe song? fork found in kitchen . . . *stops myself from ranting about how i don't care if keefe is going through it, he still faces no consequ-*

He thought long and hard about Stria’s words well

Decided she was right and he should thank her

are we talking about the same keefe. i think you may be singing about a different keefe than i am

(Chorus)

An unlikely couple

Hatred to friends

i love how the first chorus goes "hatred to love" and then decides to dial it down a notch with "hatred to friends" in the second one

He was nothing to her

CORRECT!!!! RAHHHH!!!!

We’ll see how it ends

this song's ending is slander and lies. don't listen to it

She thought he was toxic

But she’s soon to understand

One must always follow

What their heart commands

KILLING KEEFE MAIMING KEEFE BITING KEEFE EXPLODING KEEFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Verse 5)

Stria couldn’t believe he would own his mistakes

yeah there's no way i'm believing that because it didn't happen

But he swore he got it and promised to change

. . . did he though. did he really . . .

She didn’t believe it and thought it was fake

it probably is. waiting for the other shoe to drop (it will, trust) (don't listen to katie's propaganda, this song is leaving some stuff out)

He took in stride, which Stria thought was strange

he would never . . .

(Verse 6)

Alayda watched from the sidelines and was grinning

yeah, sounds like her

And Katie (that’s me, I’m Katie) took notes furiously

and then warped and skewed the notes beyond repair and put them into rhyming verses and sang it in a song. but i guess that's too long of a line to include

Alayda said, “Katie it looks like we’re winning”

alayda is also a traitor to the sokeefe nation. in case anyone cares

But I ship him with Sophie, so I said “who’s we??”

YOU LITERALLY ADMITTED TO WRITING A STRIEEFE FIC AND YOU WROTE THIS STRIEEFE SONG DON'T PRETEND YOU AREN'T A TRAITOR TO THE SOKEEFE NATION

(Chorus)

An unlikely couple

Hatred to something

"something" is still hatred. hope this helps

He was nothing to her

Now he’s surely more than nothing

actually, he's less than nothing

She thought he was toxic

But soon she’ll understand

One must always follow

What their heart commands

my heart is commanding me to beat katie up with a shoe. and i still think he's toxic

(Verse 7)

Keefe day by day proved he meant what he said

. . . what version of keefe is this song about????

And Stria rethought the whole rant that she’d made

rethinking some parts, but definitely not the entire thing

She said “fine okay, I guess we can be friends”

i hate his sense of humor i would never be able to get along with him

He wanted more than that and asked for a date

can i please leave now

(Verse 8)

She said before they could be something more

She had a condition, he must be okay

i would never consider this. this is stria slander

With sharing her eternally with four times four

Just like the amount of letters in his name

THIS SEEMS LIKE A WELL-INTENTIONED SIXTEEN MENTION BUT IT'S JUST AN EXCUSE TO BRING UP THE FACT THAT SHANNON HATES ME AND WANTS ME DEAD AND MADE KEEFE'S MIDDLE NAME HAVE FIVE LETTERS SO THAT HIS FULL NAME HAS SIXTEEN LETTERS THIS IS KATIE MANIPULATION I'M NOT CRAZY

(Chorus)

And he said yes!

he could never live up the the very high bar that my true love, the number sixteen, has set

An unlikely couple

Hatred to love

THIS VERSION IS BACK

Just him and sixteen

Now that’s more than enough

just sixteen is more than enough. sixteen and keefe is less than enough

She thought he was toxic

Now she understands

One must always follow

What their heart commands

my heart is commanding me to elope with sixteen and leave keefe in the dirt

*ridiculous electric guitar solo by Katie’s brother*

the best part of the song. also you forgot some key lyrics. here, i'll fix it for you

*katie laughing*

okay, that's enough of that

i agree. that's enough of strieefe for a lifetime

As promised, 8-verse song about strieefe!

featuring my brother at the end 😭😭

For those who don’t know the joke, Stria @the-way-astray HAAAATES Keefe Sencen. So naturally it’s a ship! And after this memories post happened, well, I had no choice!

LYRICS UNDER THE CUT

(Verse 1)

There once was a boy from a series for kids

Fan favorite, created as comic relief

But there was a girl who didn’t find him comedic

Her name was Stria, his name was Keefe

(Verse 2)

So let’s just say for this song they’re the same age

And either she’s fictional too or he’s real

And Stria for some reason is her given name

Just wait for what their story will make you feel

(Chorus)

An unlikely couple

Hatred to love

She was nothing to him

Now she’s more than enough

She thought he was toxic

Now she understands

One must always follow

What their heart commands

(Verse 3)

She wrote a whole rant about everything wrong

With how he would talk and the way that he’d act

The day they met she said she was right all along

Told him off and rolled her eyes when he said he felt “attacked”

(Verse 4)

But Keefe had this thing where he hated himself

He was going through it, that much was for sure

He thought long and hard about Stria’s words well

Decided she was right and he should thank her

(Chorus)

An unlikely couple

Hatred to friends

He was nothing to her

We’ll see how it ends

She thought he was toxic

But she’s soon to understand

One must always follow

What their heart commands

(Verse 5)

Stria couldn’t believe he would own his mistakes

But he swore he got it and promised to change

She didn’t believe it and thought it was fake

He took in stride, which Stria thought was strange

(Verse 6)

Alayda watched from the sidelines and was grinning

And Katie (that’s me, I’m Katie) took notes furiously

Alayda said, “Katie it looks like we’re winning”

But I ship him with Sophie, so I said “who’s we??”

(Chorus)

An unlikely couple

Hatred to something

He was nothing to her

Now he’s surely more than nothing

She thought he was toxic

But soon she’ll understand

One must always follow

What their heart commands

(Verse 7)

Keefe day by day proved he meant what he said

And Stria rethought the whole rant that she’d made

She said “fine okay, I guess we can be friends”

He wanted more than that and asked for a date

(Verse 8)

She said before they could be something more

She had a condition, he must be okay

With sharing her eternally with four times four

Just like the amount of letters in his name

(Chorus)

And he said yes!

An unlikely couple

Hatred to love

Just him and sixteen

Now that’s more than enough

She thought he was toxic

Now she understands

One must always follow

What their heart commands

An unlikely couple

Hatred to love

She was nothing to him

Now she’s more than enough

She thought he was toxic

Now she understands

One must always follow

What their heart commands

One must always follow

What their heart commands

*ridiculous electric guitar solo by Katie’s brother*

If you made it this far, congrats! Check out my serious kotlc songs by looking up #kotlc songs or #original music on my blog!! Or not. You could always just judge my musical abilities forever and ever by this recording of me making Stria angry, which, okay, valid.

@the-way-astray @alaydabug2 @thishumanformislimiting @worldsunlikemyown @permanently-stressed @lisalovesapplesauce @jeannefostergoriot

[aceyalonso]

daddy's home - JENSON BUTTON

pairing : sugar daddy!jenson button x sugar baby!reader

summary : art and money have always been the two constants in y/n's life, what happens when those two constants result in a sugar daddy who happens to own an art gallery?

warnings/notes : swearing, smut, protected sex (please use a condom!), daddy kink, oral (both!receiving), face-fucking, multiple orgasms, photography and filming (in an nsfw context), nipple play, hair pulling, fingering, public-ish sex, praise kink, use of "baby" and "daddy"

word count : 2.5k

a/n : I KEEP THINKING OF GOJO CUZ OF THE TITLE LMFAOOOO (probs gonna change the title)

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

Jenson stood in the center of his gallery, the soft glow of the lights illuminating the various paintings and sculptures that adorned the walls. He smiled as he heard the click of heels approaching, turning to see Y/n walking towards him, her hips swaying seductively with each step.

"There you are, my dear," Jenson purred, his eyes roaming over Y/n's curvaceous figure appreciatively. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up."

Y/n giggled, pressing herself against Jenson's firm chest. "And miss out on seeing the new collection? Never." She leaned in, her lips brushing against Jenson's ear as she whispered, "Besides, I had a feeling you might have something special planned for us tonight."

Jenson chuckled, his hand sliding down to rest on Y/n's lower back. "Oh, I always have something special in mind when it comes to you, my sweet." He led her further into the gallery, pointing out various pieces as they walked.

As they made their way through the gallery, Jenson couldn't take his eyes off Y/n's alluring figure. Her tight dress hugged her curves in all the right places, and he found himself growing harder with each step.

"This piece here is particularly striking," Jenson said, gesturing to a large abstract painting. "The way the colors blend together, it's almost... sensual."

Y/n tilted her head, studying the painting. "Mmm, I can see that. It's quite... stimulating." She turned to face Jenson, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Almost as stimulating as the way you're looking at me right now."

Jenson's breath hitched as Y/n pressed her body against his, her hands roaming over his chest. "You're playing with fire, little one," he growled, his voice low and husky.

"Maybe I like the heat," Y/n purred, her lips hovering just inches from his.

Jenson couldn't hold back any longer. He grabbed Y/n's waist and spun her around, pinning her against the wall with his body. His lips crashed against hers in a hungry kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth to taste her sweetness.

Y/n moaned into the kiss, her fingers tangling in Jenson's hair as she arched her back, pressing her ample breasts against his chest. She could feel his hardness pressing insistently against her thigh, and it only fueled her desire.

Jenson's hands roamed over Y/n's body, caressing her curves and leaving trails of fire in their wake. He gripped her ass, squeezing the supple flesh as he ground his hips against hers.

"You drive me crazy," Jenson groaned, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down Y/n's neck. "I can't get enough of you."

Jenson continued to place kisses along Y/n's neck, relishing in the taste of her skin. However, he felt her push him away gently, and he looked up to see a nervous expression on her face.

"What if someone sees us?" Y/n asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Jenson smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Don't worry, my dear. This part of the gallery is closed to the public for the moment. But even if someone did see us, who cares? Let them watch."

Y/n's eyes widened at Jenson's words, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through her veins. She bit her lower lip, considering the thrill of being caught in such a compromising position.

"You're right," she whispered, her voice filled with a newfound confidence. "Let them watch."

Y/n's hands moved swiftly, tugging at Jenson's blazer and unbuttoning his dress shirt with a sense of urgency. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, to lose herself in the heat of the moment.

Jenson watched her with a hungry gaze, his own hands working to remove her dress. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a lacy bra and panties. He drank in the sight of her, his eyes roaming over her exposed flesh appreciatively.

"You're absolutely breathtaking," Jenson murmured, his voice thick with desire. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her breast, teasing her hardened nipple through the thin material of her bra.

Y/n gasped, arching into his touch. She reached behind her back, unclasping her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts bounced free, and Jenson couldn't resist leaning down to capture one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive bud.

Y/n's breath hitched as Jenson's mouth worked on her nipple, her fingers threading through his hair. The sensation was too much, and she found herself arching into him, her body begging for more.

"Daddy, please..." she moaned, the word slipping out without her realizing.

Jenson's eyes flashed with lust, the endearment sending a shiver down his spine. He released her nipple with a pop, his gaze locking onto hers. "What do you want, my sweet little girl?"

Y/n's cheeks flushed, her eyes dark with desire. "I want you to take me, right here, against this wall."

Jenson grinned, his cock throbbing in anticipation. "Consider it done." With that, he slid his hand between Y/n's legs, finding her already wet and ready for him. He slipped a finger inside her, feeling her clench around him.

"Oh, fuck," Y/n breathed, her head falling back as she felt the exquisite pleasure building within her.

Y/n's moans echoed through the gallery as Jenson's fingers worked their magic inside her. She couldn't help but cry out, "Daddy, oh god, daddy!" as he expertly stroked her most sensitive spots.

"That's it, baby," Jenson growled, his voice low and husky. "Let everyone hear how much you love daddy's fingers inside you."

Y/n's body trembled with each thrust of Jenson's fingers, her juices coating his hand. She could feel her climax approaching, her muscles tensing as she neared the edge.

"Fuck, daddy, I'm gonna cum," she panted, her nails digging into Jenson's shoulders. "Please, don't stop!"

Jenson increased his pace, his thumb rubbing circles around her clit as he continued to plunge his fingers deep inside her. "Cum for me, baby. Show me how much you love daddy."

As Y/n's orgasm crashed over her, she buried her face in the crook of Jenson's neck, muffling her screams of ecstasy. Her body shook with the force of her climax, her inner walls clenching around Jenson's fingers as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

Jenson held her close, his own arousal straining against his pants. He could feel her heart racing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she slowly came down from her high.

"That was incredible," Jenson murmured, his lips brushing against Y/n's ear. "But we're not done yet, are we?"

Y/n pulled back, her eyes hazy with lust. "No, we're not," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached for Jenson's belt, quickly undoing it and tugging his pants and boxers down in one swift motion.

Y/n's eyes widened as Jenson's impressive member sprang free, standing at attention and begging for her touch. She licked her lips, her gaze locked onto his throbbing cock.

"Can I suck you off, daddy?" she asked, her voice dripping with desire.

Jenson groaned, his hips bucking forward involuntarily. "Fuck yes, baby. I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around my cock."

Y/n wasted no time, dropping to her knees and taking Jenson's shaft into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the tip, savoring the taste of his pre-cum before taking him deeper.

Jenson's head fell back, his eyes closing in bliss as Y/n worked her magic. Her mouth was hot and wet, and the sensation of her tongue sliding along his length was driving him wild.

Y/n's mouth felt incredible, and Jenson couldn't hold back any longer. He grabbed her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he began to thrust into her mouth.

"Oh, fuck, baby," Jenson groaned, his hips moving faster and harder with each passing second. "Your mouth feels so damn good."

Y/n moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure through Jenson's body. She relaxed her throat, taking him deeper as he fucked her face with abandon.

Jenson could feel his climax approaching, his balls tightening as he neared the edge. He looked down at Y/n, her eyes watering and her lips stretched around his shaft, and the sight only spurred him on.

"I'm gonna cum, baby," Jenson warned, his voice strained with the effort to hold back. "Swallow every last drop for daddy."

Y/n nodded eagerly, her hand moving to cup his balls, gently massaging them as he continued to thrust into her mouth.

With a final, powerful thrust, Jenson buried himself deep in Y/n's throat, his cock pulsing as he released his load. Y/n swallowed greedily, her throat working to take every last drop of his essence.

Jenson's body shuddered with the intensity of his orgasm, his grip on Y/n's hair tightening as he rode out the waves of pleasure. As he finally pulled out, he saw strands of his cum dripping down Y/n's chin, and the sight made his spent cock twitch.

"You look so beautiful like this," Jenson murmured, his thumb wiping away the remnants of his release from Y/n's lips. "My perfect little cum slut."

Y/n smiled up at him, her eyes shining with adoration and satisfaction. "Thank you, daddy," she purred, her voice husky from the rough treatment her throat had just received.

Jenson helped her to her feet, his hands roaming over her body appreciatively. "You're welcome, baby. You did such a good job, I think you deserve a reward."

He led her further into the gallery, to a secluded alcove where a plush chaise lounge awaited. Jenson guided Y/n onto the lounge, positioning her on her hands and knees. He knelt behind her, his fingers trailing up her thighs, teasing the sensitive skin.

"Spread your legs for daddy," Jenson commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "I wanna see you."

Y/n complied, her legs parting to reveal her glistening folds. Jenson groaned, his cock already hardening again at the sight. He leaned in, his tongue darting out to taste her, his fingers spreading her open for better access.

Jenson's tongue delved into Y/n's wetness, flicking and circling her clit as his fingers continued to spread her wide. Y/n moaned, her head falling forward onto the chaise lounge as she arched her back, her body begging for more.

"Please, daddy, I need you inside me," she pleaded, her voice shaking with need.

Jenson smiled against her folds, his fingers slipping inside her as he continued to torment her clit with his tongue. "Not yet, baby. I want to make you scream first."

Y/n's hips bucked, her body trembling as Jenson's expert ministrations brought her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel her climax building once more, the tension coiling within her.

"Daddy, I'm gonna cum," she cried out, her body tensing as she approached the peak. "Please, let me..."

Jenson removed his fingers and tongue, leaving Y/n panting and desperate for release. "Not yet," he repeated, his voice firm. "You'll cum when I'm inside you."

Y/n whimpered, her body aching for release as Jenson teased her mercilessly. She could feel the heat pooling in her core, her juices dripping down her thighs as she begged for him to take her.

"Please, daddy, I need you so badly," she pleaded, her voice raw with desperation. "I can't take it anymore."

Jenson chuckled, his hand reaching into his wallet to retrieve a condom. He tore open the packet, rolling the latex down his length with practiced ease. "I know, baby. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

He positioned himself behind Y/n, the head of his cock teasing her entrance. With a swift thrust, he buried himself inside her, filling her completely.

"Oh, fuck, yes!" Y/n cried out, her body stretching to accommodate his size. "You feel so good, daddy."

Jenson groaned, his hips beginning to move in a steady rhythm. "You're so tight, baby. Your pussy feels amazing."

Jenson pulled out of Y/n, causing her to whine in protest. He reached into his pocket, retrieving his phone. "Hold on, baby," he said, his voice tinged with excitement. "I want to capture this moment."

Y/n's eyes widened as Jenson set his phone up, positioning it to catch their every movement. "Daddy, are you going to..." she trailed off, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

Jenson grinned, his eyes filled with lust as he repositioned himself behind Y/n. "Yes, baby. I want to see that pretty face of yours on video. Besides, it's a turn-on knowing someone might walk in and see us."

Y/n bit her lip, her heart racing as Jenson resumed his thrusts. The thought of being caught only added to the excitement.

"Fuck, daddy, you're so big," Y/n moaned, her voice thick with pleasure. "I never knew sex could be this good."

Jenson's phone captured every movement, every sound, and every expression of pleasure on Y/n's face. The camera lens zoomed in on her bouncing breasts, her face contorted in ecstasy, and the way her body writhed beneath him.

"Look at you, baby," Jenson growled, his hips snapping forward with increased force. "You're so fucking sexy. I can't get enough of you."

Y/n's moans grew louder, her body trembling as she neared her climax once again. "Daddy, I'm so close," she panted, her nails digging into the fabric of the chaise lounge. "Please, don't stop."

Jenson could feel his own release approaching, his balls tightening as he pounded into Y/n's willing body. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in tight circles, pushing her over the edge.

Y/n's moans grew louder and more intense as Jenson's fingers worked her clit, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm. Her cries of pleasure echoed through the gallery, and it was clear that anyone on that floor could hear her.

"Oh, god, daddy, yes!" Y/n screamed, her body shaking uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. "I'm cumming!"

Jenson groaned, his own climax triggered by the sound of Y/n's ecstasy. He thrust into her one last time, his cock pulsing as he released inside her. The condom muffled the sensation, but the feeling of his hot seed filling the latex was still incredibly satisfying.

As they both came down from their highs, Jenson reached for his phone, turning it off and pocketing it. He pulled out of Y/n, discarding the used condom before turning his attention back to her.

Jenson pulled Y/n into his arms, his lips finding hers in a passionate kiss. He poured all of his desire and affection into the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers as he savored her taste.

When they finally broke apart, Jenson cupped Y/n's face in his hands, his eyes shining with admiration. "You were incredible, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine praise. "The way you submitted to me, the sounds you made... it was perfect."

Y/n blushed, her heart swelling with pride at Jenson's words. "Thank you, daddy," she whispered, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "You made me feel so good."

Jenson smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'm glad, baby. You deserve to feel that way"

Y/n giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "As much as I'd love to stay in your arms forever, I should probably go get my dress from the other room before someone comes looking for us."

taglist

for all posts; @nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore

kinktober taglist; @cloud-55 @emryb @sie17136 @jaimeleannavanlloman @wosof1 @wholetmewritethat @glitterbitch1 @under-seasoned-pasta @sinners-98-world

[2knightt]

HII!! could you write the gang with a reader that has an rbf and seems really intimidating/unapproachable but is a sweetheart? they arent very talkative and seem very cold but their love language is acts of service/gift giving & sorta quality time?? <33

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape. ⋄ 𓍯

…REQUESTED: you never judge a book by it’s cover. especially when it comes to y/n!

tags/warnings: people being judgy asf/spreading rumours, gang defending reader with their soul, reader is a softie i fear, reader is kinda shy, probably stupid:3c, steve threatening a manLMFAO

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ READER IS SO ME CODED HELLO also if two-bits part sounds stupid it ‘s because i’m high rn and even if can admit it’s a little iffy

—

dallas winston

thought of you as someone to be threatened by at first ngl

he heard of this scary, mean mugged, tuff looking girl and went ‘mh. an enemy🐺😒’

he went up to you one day, acting all tuff and shit just for you to look him up and down and nervously wave

look, he may not be the smartest cookie but he can see someone shy a mile away. and when he seen you wave, he felt like such an ass LMFAO

did he show it? no. obviously.

this is dallas. he’s an asshole.

“little miss tough girl, huh?”

“…pardon?”

that teasing from him DID continue until you walked away because dallas is the type to never back down, even when he’s wrong

expect for the next time you met him!!!!

he was actually asking you your name, where you’re from, etc, etc!!!

turning a new leaf dare i say…

and everything after that was history! cutest scary looking couple ever!

HE THINKS IT’S SOOO FUNNY THAT PEOPLE ARE SCARED OF YOU LMFAOOO

he plays into it sm if someone brings it up bro

“y/n? like..scary y/n?”

“yeah, like scary y/n. and i’ll get ‘er on ya if you keep talkin’ ‘bout her.”

“oh!😰”

he thinks it’s so silly to see you look really pissed off when he isn’t around just to greet you and see your whole demeanour change!!

dallas thinks it’s so cute😭 it’s like one of his favourite things about you!

“😠😒”

“hey, baby.”

“oh! hi, dal!<3”

LMFAO IMAGINE SOMEONE SEEING YOU, A MEAN LOOKING GIRL, SHOPPING FOR MENS LEATHER JACKETS

yuppp spoil that dickhead!😫 he lovelovelovesss getting gifts, ESPECIALLY from u!!!

if you’re clingy, i feel like he wouldn’t mind it. he teases THE FUCK out of u tho!😊

“big tough girl wants to hold hands, eh?”

“…yea😞.”

“awh, look at ya. come ‘ere.”

johnny cade

you might think he’d be scared and intimidated, right? but NO! he’s literally bff’s with ponyboy, he knows damn well what rbf is!

you two are sooo cute together

little kicked, scared puppy with his feral doberman!!!

tells people to stfu whenever they try and spread rumours that you’re scary, mean, and rude.

“you’re dating y/n? don’t you know she-“

“i don’t care, shut up. ‘s not like you know her😒.”

sometimes refuses your gifts.

johnny’s not used to them :( but all u gotta do is say please and flutter your lashes and u got em!!!!

“i can’t take it.”

“please?😞”

“…okay😣.”

and he DOES NOT regret it! he might fight you at first, but he cherishes those gifts with his life<3!

loveloveloveLOVESSS having u around constantly!! since your love language is quality time, you two are always hanging out together.

and, with your scary looks, you often keep the socs away from him!

hip-hip, hooray‼️‼️

the gang was like…worried for johnny at first.

THEY DIDN’T KNOW U WERE COOL THO😭😭💔💔💔

they were all like, “??seriously, johnny?? you pick the meanest girl?? ever???” and johnny was QUICK to defend. “y’all ain’t even meet her, and you’re already sayin’ she’s bad for me?”

when they did though, they were like ‘ohhhh….she really isn’t rude…..oh….’

HE’S SO PROUD TO DATE U THO LMFAOOO

and to know the real you?? treats it like an HONOUR

ponyboy curtis

was intimidated by you.

forgot he was also like you and accidentally glares at people who walk past him LMFAOOOO

You two are like two peas in a pod istg!!

“you look mean from far away,”

“???so do you, pony??”

“…no??”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘NO’?”

mean looking couple who are truly just a bunch of nerds deep down to their soul<3

the gang was a little protective of ponyboy until they realized ur just like him LMFAO

They get having an rbf<3

pony loves spending time with you!

gift him a book and he’ll love you forever!!! (maybe even read it to you when you two are finally alone to help you fall asleep🤍)

he’s such a cutie…..

stays close to you in public because he thinks you’re scarier looking than anyone he’s ever met😊😊.

“cm’ere,”

“why?🤨”

“BECAUSE🙄!”

SCARY DOG Y/N IS REAL.

glares at anyone who goes around telling people that you’re mean and rude.

if looks could kill, they’d be dead already!!!

ponyboy does not fuck around with u i fear.

Sodapop Curtis

LMFAOOO GREEK GOD OF A MAN WITH HIS PISSED OFF GF WHO IS NERVOUSLY HOLDING HIS HAND !!!

he was NOT afraid of you!! in fact, he thought the rumours of you being an asshole were all fake

“you talkin’ about y/n?”

“yes, bro! they’re so rude-“

“how do you know?”

“well, i don’t-“

“so, shut up?😒”

cuz like??? did they not bother to understand you???

soda literally made it his mission to prove that you weren’t a dick!!😭😭

and GODDAMN HE WAS SO RIGHT

you’re such a sweetheart to soda! he lovesss telling people about how cute you are around him since it’s his own way to squash the rumours.

“my y/n is so sweet, you wouldn’t get it.”

“isn’t she the same girl who beat the soc to a pulp?”

“she can barely kill a fly.”

you don’t need to do much to scare off the girls that flirt with him at the DX, just a nice little glare every now and then and they’re already gone!

(soda doesn’t have to know that you play into the rumours sometimes. it’s our little secret.)

steve randle

HATES EVERYONE WHO TALKS ABOUT YOU

he’s petty AS FUCK LMFAOOO

they can’t handle the randle😜💯

“ew, y/n-“

“MAN, GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY FACE WITH THAT WHAT DO YOUUU KNOW ABOUT Y/N🗣️‼️”

that was an over exaggeration but you get the point.

gets very defensive when people try and ‘warn’ him about you lmfao

gift him a tool box and he’ll use it until it’s literally falling apart at the bolts<3

no seriously. it could be holding on by one screw and he’ll still use it. he doesn’t gaf. steve will use anything u give him.

he accepts ur rbf cause he thinks it’s SO FUNNY?? like he’ll see you far away with your friends looking all angry before one of them says a really funny joke and just watches your expression change so quickly

one of his fav things ever<3!

two-bit mathews

he makes so much jokes about it LMFAOOO

“jesus, y/n! you sure yer glare ain’t the thing that killed the dinosaurs?”

—

“swear i see the devil in yours eyes sometimes. it looks soooo good on you, though🤭🤭”

HE THINKS ITS SO ATTRACTIVE

and he lovesss your sweetheart side sm it’s like he gets best of both worlds

RAHH GIFT TWO-BIT MICKEY PLUSHIE OR ELSE

He’d totally have it on his bed 24/7. his sister has tried to steal it before to scare him btw.

skmetimes just to spend time together with him—you just go walking around town with him while he has an arm around your shoulder the whole time<3

[kithtaehyung]

mami (m) | myg/knj

title: mami (m) pairing: myg x reader(f) , knj x reader(f) , slight jhs x reader(f)😛 rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; battle rap au , roommates au summary: you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date. note: heavy 00s vibes, this is just the beginning of a collection of parts instead of just a oneshot let’s fucking goooo🦋 note 2: this is pretty unedited lolll if there are mistakes i'm so so sorry! warnings for this part: language, choking, joon in sweats, bathroom s*x, b*ckshots, friendly sp*nks from your roomie🤪, it uhhh starts right out the gate lmfao, hobi in silk and a robe, yoongi is a warning in his own right, light sl*pping, you get called mamiii😗 so if that’s not ur thing i’d skip this series !!, joon is too smooth, a secret fourth guy lmfaoooo, battle rap scenarios! drop date: september 26th, 2023, 10:07pm est word count: 3.7k  mood: here 

-

-

“You like that, huh?” 

Breath short, you can only gasp as the hands you’ve been eyeing all night clutch your throat, a fiendish hum the first response to your satisfied grin.

“Knew you would.” As your delicious captor speaks, you just know he’s fixated on your makeup—at least, the way it’s smearing onto a bathroom mirror that has seen better days. “You all do.” 

Fuck, he knows what he’s doing. Fucking hell, he always knows.

Your lust condenses and slides down the glass in rivers, and with each experienced thrust inside your folds, it’s getting harder, and harder, and harder to see the man wrecking your shit. 

But it’s coming. The end. The coil inside you is screaming and tightening and you know he can feel every potent pulse as you slap the tiny counter with a palm. “Yoongi—”

“You gonna come, mami?” 

Yes yes yes you really fucking are. It’s so truthful that you can’t even voice your agreement in words, your moans higher and higher in pitch the only tell you can possibly give. 

“Then fucking do it.” 

Light bounces from your eyes and rebounds off the mirror the same time your whine does, every limb locking while bare shoulders bang against your reflection. 

“Fuck.” 

You spring right into the ground floor above, eyes rolling so far back you could probably see the way Yoongi’s smirking at your ass if your dumbfounded mush of a brain wasn’t in the way. 

Again, and again, you milk his cock for all it’s worth, spurning him into gripping your bouncing hips with rough hands and faster strokes. Laughs and conversations seep through the door at your side, but you can’t make out a thing as you garble, 

“Yoongi, please—”

“One more.” 

“I can’t—”

“Don’t play dumb,” he tuts. “You won’t hustle me a second time.” 

Busted. 

Your pout quickly stretches into a devilish curve instead, and you hear his sound of approval before you brag, 

“I spent all that already, by the way.” 

Air whizzes past your ears as you’re hoisted upwards, and your mirth reverberates as you’re spun and shoved into the sink, cheap laminate bruising your back. 

Yoongi must also be remembering the time your pussy sucked the soul out of him. After you both made a bet that you couldn’t beat someone’s record time making him come. 

You won half of his prize money that night. 

And that was the night he won the entire thing. 

“You’re lucky I respect it,” he snarls, sweaty fingers gripping your chin as he slings a leg over his pelvis. When he grins, you wanna lick the white off his teeth. “And you’re lucky I made it back the next night.” 

Oh, shit. Did he really? 

Battle rap events usually stack so that everyone gets a chance. How did he get invited back the same weekend? 

Well, other than being a monster on the mic. There’s a reason you can’t stay away from him, and you may or may not admit you get turned on by how effortlessly ruthless he is. 

Lips smushed, you ask with genuine curiosity, “You won again?” 

Yoongi lightly smacks your cheek, chuckling when you grit out a moan. “Nah. The sponsors loved me,” he claims, finally bringing a hand down to guide himself back inside. “So they paid me to come back.” 

“Sick,” you praise through a grunt, fully catching his eyes for the first time tonight. Pushing past the way he fills you so fantastically, you huff out, “That doesn’t happen on south side.” 

“So I’ve heard.” 

“Yeah, apparently west and east side do it a lot. Especially with that guy Randa—”

“Fuck Randa.”

Ah, so Yoongi knows him? You haven’t ventured into the west scene yet, but the one thing you know about it is that dude’s name.

So he must be a beast.

Especially if Gloss himself had some choice words.

At this little slip of emotion, you don’t hide your smirk at all. “Oh? Maybe I will if that’s how you feel.”

The sudden possessive shove of his cock into your folds is delightful, your high giggle pinging off the bathroom walls.

“Fuck whoever you want, princess,” he chides right against your lips. “You’ll always come back to me.” 

“Duh.” You flick your tongue over his plush. “You wouldn’t last a week without me anyway.”

Yoongi pushes into you again, stare heavy and coaxing butterflies from your belly. “I’d manage.”

“As if.”

But even through the pleasure, you still wonder. How are you both having a regular conversation right now? This never happens with him. You’ve wanted it to, but there simply hasn’t been any talk when he’s involved. 

The high from your orgasm compounds with this strange feeling that you turn a little playful.

“What I meant was…” Fingernail poking his tank, you joke with a sly curve, “Guess you must be like, good or whatever.” 

When he looks down, you childishly swoop your finger up to bump his nose. “Ha. Loser.” 

Predictably, Yoongi pauses before only his eyes raise, suppressed emotions hiding behind long dark strands. “Really.” 

And even though you felt him twitch in your core, you’ll spare him. “I don’t make the rules.” 

You think this is when he’ll start ramming into you again, because none of the times you’ve hooked up ever lasted this long. It’s always been quick with him, and never in any other place other than bathrooms or broom closets. 

Which isn’t bad. Just a pattern you’ve noticed. 

But Yoongi huffs in amusement before shaking his head. “Since when were you this weird?” 

“Wow, rude?” Your scoff is full of mock annoyance. “I’ve always been this way.” 

It’s just that no one’s taken the time to get to know you.

“But you’re so…” 

All they care about is one thing. 

Which, granted, is the same in your case. 

It just gets a bit lonely sometimes. 

Offering to finish for him to stiff arm any more incoming awkwardness, you blurt, “Hot? Slutty?” 

“Fast.” 

Oh. 

Did you both just assume the other person wanted it over and done with?

That’s entirely possible considering the first time it happened lasted a grand total of three minutes. Max.

“I mean…” You lean back on your palms, not caring to adjust your very mussed top because your chest finally snags all of Yoongi’s attention. How he’s still hard inside of you is a complete mystery. “I don’t just fuck, you know.” 

“And here I thought we were similar,” he teases, groaning through his teeth when you roll on his dick. Again. 

And again. 

Of course you’re both similar. The only difference is that people dub this guy a sex god and you’re an easy lay. 

But you won’t get into that with him. Not now and probably not ever since you don’t dare even label Yoongi a friend.

Panting, you observe him watching your movements as you switch the subject, “You fucked that one sponsor chick for the invite, huh.” 

And he takes the out hilariously quick,

“Both of them.” 

Of course. Your head kicks back in laughter, remembering that there were two people running the event instead of one. 

Truthfully, you would’ve paid to see that. 

“Can’t stand you,” you lie, the way you chuckle as he slaps one of your tits saying otherwise. 

“Good.” 

As he rubs a rough thumb over a nipple, an announcement blares over deejay scratches and cheers, tugging both of your eyes to the door.

Before things quickly devolve into how they always go.

When you arch forward, his lips devour your breast; when you rock your hips into his, the groans against your chest make you feel alive. 

Your nails claw through his hair before you can’t decide if you wanna rake them through his shoulders or his neck. Here, there, everywhere you can grab, you take hold. 

Suddenly, Yoongi clutches the top of your skirt before thrusting in hard, and his laugh when you whine out a curse strikes your soul. “It’s better that way.” 

It’s always better that way. 

“Agreed,” you murmur, eyes flickering to the janky ceiling before sighing out, “I think they just said your name.” 

“Mm.” 

He plunges into you so hard you see his impish curve imprinted among the stars. 

“Then hurry up, mami. Gimme one more for luck.” 

MAMI 

“Who’s on the menu tonight?”

You hum while peering into your mirror—a much cleaner, brighter mirror than the one you were pressed against a couple weeks ago. “That nice guy I’ve been seeing at the gym.” 

“Wait, what? Are you going on a date date?” 

“Hobi,” you giggle, loving your roommate very much despite the way he just forgets sometimes. “We went through this already.” 

“So… Is that a yes, or.” His laugh blurts out when you throw a middle finger next to your head. “Okay, okay! You can just say it, you know.” 

“I just”—you spot check your makeup before vacating your vanity stool—“You know me. I never do dates.” 

As Hobi leans back on your bed, the way his hot pink robe matches your comforter makes you highly amused. Almost amused enough that you don’t react to his nosy question, 

“Nervous?”

Extremely. 

“Uhm,” you start, all pretenses dropping at the sight of his cocked brow. “A bit.” 

Springing up, your roommate pads over and rests thin palms over even thinner straps of your sundress. 

“What’s got you nervous, love?” 

Pouting, you look out your window before your chin is gently swiveled back forward. Thankful for his insistence, you confess to the only guy that you feel like you can trust, 

“What if I like him?” 

The laugh you get is full of disbelief and pity. “That’s what you’re worried about? Really?” 

When you nod, he chuckles again, but it’s smaller. And more understanding than the first. 

“Pathetic, right.” 

“No, no no,” Hobi starts, sliding his hands down to warm your biceps before squeezing. When he pauses, his expression gives his thoughts away before he can utter them. “Well, a little.” 

“Hoseok.” 

“But! Only because you’re making it seem that way.” He squeezes again before sitting back down on your bed. “If you just let things happen without thinking, isn’t that better?”

Does he really have to flop down to rest his head on his palms? Now? 

Talk about not thinking. 

Whatever. You didn’t expect Hoseok to do that, but he looks hot, so you’ll let it slide. 

And you don’t shy away from his silk-covered package before retorting, “Says you.” 

“Me? I overthink. That’s different.” 

“How!” 

“Don’t think about it.” 

When he winks, you both laugh, and his grin slowly devolves into a smirk before he motions you over with a mere head cock.

And you gladly oblige. 

Because your dynamic with Hobi still hasn’t changed. 

Slowly, you arrive at his knees before mounting the bed at his hips, being steadied over his pelvis as he keeps his prone position. 

“You look hot as fuck, you know.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“He’s gonna like you for sure.” 

“Naturally.” 

“So what if you end up liking him, too?” 

As he smoothes a hand over the side of your ass, you purse your lips in thought. “Uhh… Feelings? I guess?”

“You can have those, babe.” 

“Not mine,” you correct, knowing yours are too fucked up to share with anyone. Which is exactly why you’re all for the so-called fast title that Yoongi clipped onto your persona. “His.” 

Does the lifestyle you chose come with regrets? Yeah. Complications? Also yes. But at least those hurt less than the regrets and complications actual relationships come with. 

You’re just fine with how things are. 

Which is why you’re scared about seeing Namjoon, because he seems like the type that wants something steady. If you end up liking him, you’re gonna have to choose between options that are vastly different in color. 

Despite all that, you still said yes when he asked you out at the gym last week—while you were drenched, bare-faced, and wincing from the last set you completed to failure. 

Why did you say yes anyway? What drew you in to this guy? 

“If you’re scared of hurting his feelings, then just tell him straight-up,” Hobi advises, pulling you back to the present. “Guys won’t know shit unless you spell it out.” 

Looking down at his perfect features, you fake disbelief, asking the most rhetorical question in existence, “You mean you can’t just read our minds?”

“Baby, we can’t even figure out our own, let alone yours.” 

“You said it.” Fully reassured, you rest on Hoseok’s chest, careful to not smudge your face on his clothes. “…Pity fuck if the date goes wrong?”

“Of course.” 

Your chuckle is soft. “Thank you.” 

“Now get up,” he orders, smacking your ass so perfectly that it offends you. “Before I give you another necklace.” 

“Hoseok!” When his cackles follow you up as you stand, your jaw cannot hinge back in. “Goddamn, you’re bad.” 

“Not as bad as you,” he says, following you out of your room. “Mami.” 

That goddamn nickname. 

Hobi knows it’s a common term. And he knows it’s one you hear from multiple people, especially on south side. Literally nothing new or groundbreaking.

But he also knows it makes you unwell because of one specific person. Because you confessed that you didn’t expect it from them during a fuck and it made you weak in the knees. 

Which caused the same motherfucker to say it over, and over, and over again.

Fucking Yoongi. 

Why the hell is it only potent when he says it?

The psychology of that needs to be studied yet you will completely refuse to be a subject. 

After checking to make sure you have everything, you fish out your phone to double-check the address before calling a ride. 

“Where is it at?”

“Some restaurant on west side.”

“Damn, all the way over there?”

“I’m okay with it,” you assure him, inwardly wincing at the cost on your screen. 

Virtually anything on west side is far from your condo, but that’s partly why you’re alright with going. As much as you get around, you don’t prefer taking people back to your place. 

Besides. No one needs to know where you live unless you really fuck with them.

And it’s only happened twice.

Hoseok’s unconvinced reply cuts your thoughts in two,

“Alright… Well. Lemme know if you end up somewhere else tonight.” 

Smiling, you offer him a warm look, positive that his lean against the kitchen wall would put models to shame. “I always do.” 

“What did I say earlier?” 

“Spell it out for him.”

“Okay, good.” 

When you grin, he does, too. 

And you hope this Namjoon guy at least does well with words. 

Turns out, he does a fucking splendid job with them.

At least, the things this man is saying has you absolutely melting under dim lights, and you haven’t even gotten your drinks yet. 

“You look damn nice tonight, by the way,” he mentions with a dip of his head, fiddling with his napkin and giving you an upsettingly perfect view of his fingers. “I feel underdressed as hell.”

Underdressed? Looking around, you feel like you’re the one that dressed way too formal and you’re in a damn sundress.

You should’ve known, though. The restaurant that Namjoon chose occupies one of the few streets known for its laid-back, easy-going fare. Even you have heard of its unique charm and you reside quite a ways away. 

Before you respond, you remember how you arrived, checking around the small space before spotting him in a booth. And while you loved the lax way he dressed, you were even more charmed when he got out just to greet you with a cheek kiss. 

And the night has been so pleasant that you forget to be worried. 

“Why? I mean, thank you, but why?” 

Namjoon gives his sweatpants-covered thighs a glance. “I dunno. You just look bossed up and I’m like, your errand boy.” 

Your mirthy disbelief leaks out of your grin before he can finish. Watching a nearby table point at their menus to order, you go along with his compliments,

“I mean, I could use an assistant…”

He only smiles at his hands. “Order me around anytime.” 

Cute. 

Maybe that’s why you’re drawn to this guy. 

Even though he’s huge and can lift like a motherfucker, there’s a soft side that he’s got no shame showing. 

Also, as the night goes on, you quickly discover more traits you rarely come across. 

Curious, suave, humble—all of them surprise you in the best way. He’s already let you talk much more than he has, and the two of you have debated on not one, but three topics. Including one that you would have left his ass for if you both weren’t on the same page. 

“Okay, so we agree.”

“Yes,” he responds in relief. “Definitely would’ve rethought this whole thing if we didn’t.”

“Uhh, yeah, because I would’ve walked out and let you pay for everything.” 

“Damn!” Fuck, his grin is charming. “And I would’ve paid it, too.” 

Laughing—and realizing that you’re doing that a lot tonight—you rest a hand on his shoulder, “No, no, I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

Fuck, he’s solid.

“Wait, I’m getting us this time, though.”

“Yeah?”

Holding a round glass up to his lips, he coolly adds, 

“And next time, too.” 

Well. 

There’s no way you’re saying no to that.

“To next time,” you offer, clinking cups and taking a nice sip of your wine. 

Things end with both of you just having dinner—a concept so foreign that it makes you wonder if he wanted something more than a second date. 

But judging by the times he kept stealing glances and the way his curve stayed at a slant, it’s an open and shut case.

It’s always a bit crowded in the front few rows, so it doesn’t bother you to hang back for the first time in awhile. 

Besides, you’re a little late from your date anyway. 

Since nothing else happened with Namjoon—he had to leave pretty quick—you determined that you could make it to another Gloss smackdown. 

After you greet all the people and bodyguards hanging around the front doors, you arrive downstairs just in time to hear the deejay ushering everyone in. 

And based on what you hear, it seems like Yijeong’s got extra volume in his mic tonight. 

“Alright, alright, let’s give it up for our two up here, yeah?”

Everyone cheers as you clap to yourself, leaning against a chilly column and ignoring the stares your outfit gets.

The stage looks quite different from back here, with its huddled occupants talking amongst themselves. While you watch both crews laughing and standing around, you wonder what it would be like to support Yoongi from up there instead of on the ground. 

You really would if he wanted you to.

“I don’t have to introduce either one but I’m gonna do it anyway. Cus that’s the rules or whatever and they both deserve some love. Give it up for my man K Shine!”

You aren’t familiar with him but you support anyway. A tiny whoop leaves your mouth as a big portion of the room shouts, and you watch as the guy nods to the people that came to see him. 

“Oh, we’re showing out, okay. Alright, now let’s hear it for my guy Gloss!” 

In contrast, your energy evolves tenfold, and you gladly yell with the rest of the floor as Yoongi stays piercing the ground at his feet.

This guy. 

Still the same routine.

You always muse that he could look into the crowd once in awhile, especially since his audience is steadily growing. 

If they ever saw his smile, maybe more people would be drawn in wait is he looking up this time? 

Wait.

Despite there being rows and rows between you and the stage, you don’t miss the slight shift in his demeanor. It almost looks like he’s scanning the people in front. 

What’s he doing? Is he looking for something? Someone? 

…He’s not looking for you, is he? 

You’re there quite often and always in the same area, but you didn’t think Yoongi would really notice or be checking for you right now.

…But is he? 

Before you can think any further, the quick blares of an airhorn shove your thoughts away. 

“K Shine, you win the toss,” the middle man on stage announces. Fuck, you think you’d know his name by now, he’s been here a lot ever since the first guy disappeared. “What you got.” 

When the man answers, he stares right at Yoongi’s hooded head, fire flaring up the walls already,

“Mister Big House, Big Car, Big Rings can go first.” 

Oh.

He—

You really fucking regret not being in the front now.

Immediately, the whole room ooh’s, with the middle man pursing his lips and giving the two opponents space. 

Light illuminates the whole stage as both sides back up a bit, heavy cameras set to roll and some feedback ringing through the musty air. 

And you wait with bated breath as the crowd goes quiet. 

Heart stilling as Yoongi holds a mic right up to his lips.

—

—

—

tbc :))) 

—

so.. what do we think lmaooo 🦋 | join the taglist :D

a/n: thank you all for reading! as i don't have too much time to spend on fics nowadays, i'll be heavily considering feedback and excitement around fics to determine what to work on. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated.

a/n 2: all the names i’m gonna include that aren’t the members (or yijeong lol) are real life battle rappers! k-shine was one of the first ones i ever watched, and he has good aggressive delivery and performance but not too many heavy hitters. anybody i namedrop will have rap battles linked, so here is one of k-shine’s that i remember from back in the day. battle rap is an art form in itself, and i would like to showcase these talented individuals whenever i can.

++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist 

[etheries1015]

I was thinking- what if Vil does one of those celebrity documentaries when he's older? He's settled down with you, you have kids, his career is still going good. He'll talk about when you guys decided to settle down and have kids (the home video clips of him loving his kids 🥲). They'll sit you down and you just radiate loving housewife energy and someone will sneakily catch on camera Vil looking at you so softly while you're recording your part. Him admitting his problems with Neige (and the team interviewed him too but he still has no idea about Vil's true feelings), how he always wanted a role outside of being a villain. Rook having his own interviews being his usual self but also suddenly showing up in your home during filming. Epel wanting to get in on it to kinda reveal the bs Vil made him put up with (and Vil just chuckles cause he still knows he was right) and to promote the farm. And then Vil mentions how he owes Malleus favors (does he reveal he overblotted?). Cue the screen suddenly showing Malleus sitting comfortably in a chair and smiling smugly. And then you notice he's in your home. And he's just like, "Oh, yes. I did Schonheit some favors back then." And it shows some backstage footage of the film crew wondering if they should even try and contact THE Malleus Dragonia to get an interview, and if they do if they actually have the guts to. But before they can decide you pull up, "Oh? You wanna talk to Mal? Let me ask him!" And you just speed dial him and ask and once you hang up he's magically poofed into your home for the interview. He doesn't mind talking about Vil and you but also sneaks in some gargoyle stuff. There's also extra footage of your still young kids hearing Mal is here and running up to him, "Uncle Mal~!!" And you, Vil, Mal, and the kids having a small tea break.

Oh man, what're you doing dropping this beautiful piece in my inbox when you should post it on your page and get the attention it deserves?? Because this is ADORABLE and AMAZING! All the ideas you threw out in here were so cute, Vil finally having the confidence to talk about you and his family, his carreer as a total...plus that Malleus blurb LMFAOOOO, When you're asked what person in your school years affected you most other than Vil or what friends you had that were most prominent, you say "Oh, Malleus Draconia! I think he's king of brair valley right now, though."

Everyone just stares at you in shock, but Vil kinda like "You have his number, right? Call him over." (He did it for the drama...he thought it would be funny for the documentary, and he was right. It became the most replayed part of the entire section.)

AND YOUR KIDS WITH VIL TALKING AND HANGING OUT WITH MALLEUS LIKE OL' CHUMS IS SO ADORABLE. When Malleus comes over, he always has some sort of riches or treasures for your children. He's constantly playing with them. He's your go-to baby sitter and he LOVES it. You being best friends with Malleus while married with Vil HAS to be my favorite thing about ALL OF THIS. It's so adorable i'm sobbing crying shaking throwing up.

The home clips...oh my gosh i'm so soft. YES!! Imagine when the documentary gets released, so many people point out places that they noticed Rook was in the background in the videos when you didn't see them before. It was insane, an entire conspiracy theory trend came out of it.

I like to think you have home videos of VIL being the housewife, cooking in his "Kiss the queen" Apron while holding one of your children on his side and using a spatula to flip the pancakes with the other. He had no idea you released this to the director, it came a shock to him when there was a section of the documentary dedicated to how you felt being married and having kids with one of the worlds biggest stars. He probably cried a little about it, ngl.

PLEASE I IMPLORE YOU reveal yourself!! Or post this!! Because it's such a cute idea and I think you truly deserve the rightful attention! But thank you for sharing, this was such a fun read and I enjoyed exploring / expanding more on it heuheuheu.

[velarisdusk]

I FEEL LIKE I SHOULD PREFACE:

these are NOT meant to be soundalikes. i think our guys would use their own intonations, inflections, and creative decisions for things like cadence and ad-libs in these songs. this is meant to be a showcase of what vibes i think their songs would be. under the cut, i'll have notes on why i chose tracks, certain covers of songs, etc.

All that to say—This Is: Wings of Illyria

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01 The Great Escape — BOYS LIKE GIRLS the song that started it all.... i've definitely said this way too many times, but i'll say it again. the bridge. 'we won't hear a word.... they.... say / they don't know us anyway.' that is azriel's part. that is where the crowd goes batshit (buh dum tss). i think their songs would be a range of stuff like pop-punk, alt, rock. this one might be a bit different than the rest of the energy of the playlist, but i was not folding on this one, it HAD to be in the playlist.

02 Seven Nation Army — The White Stripes the bass in this is so iconic and i thought az deserved it. thats pretty much the only reason, i can't even lie

03 Take Me Out — Franz Ferdinand i just really love this song LMFAOOOO also i can see rhys KILLING IT on guitar. i ALSO really like the thought of az and cass having fun shouting the backing vocals. OH OH and az and rhys playing their instruments back to back with these shit-eating smirks on their faces mmm yum

04 Somebody Told Me — The Killers this is the first of the "fun" songs i chose for them, i think that'll make more sense when you listen to the rest of the "fun" ones. like i think these are the slightly less serious songs that they'd enjoy performing.

05 Kryptonite — 3 Doors Down i think this is one of the ones i find truer to their usual sound (usual, i say, as if i didnt just make it all up lol)

06 Sex on Fire — Kings of Leon a more mellow one comparatively. the instrumentals are great in this and i see them having fun with it

07 Come As You Are — Nirvana also a bit more mellow, but i think rhys would kill this

08 Aerials — System Of A Down so.. serj tankian has a very unique voice and i love it but obv rhys wouldnt sound like that yknow? i just think the guitar in this song is awesome and i think rhys would have a lot of fun playing this one (also az on harmony yum)

09 The Kill — Thirty Seconds To Mars a classic emo/alt song. this one all around is AMAZING for them. the backing vocals, the belting, the DRUMS. cass would have so much fun on this one

10 Everlong — Foo Fighters starts slow but picks up, i think the instrumentals all around are very them. i see rhys being super passionate on vocals (not to mention how iconic the guitar is HELLOOOO), cass smashing the mf drums, az with the mellow backing vocals

11 Dance, Dance — Fall Out Boy i think if any of these songs are a bit out of the realm of the others, these two fall out boy tracks are it. dont get me wrong, it still fits into the vibe with those "fun" songs i was talking about, it's just one of their less serious songs i think

12 Thnks fr th Mmrs — Fall Out Boy three hot guys singing about casual sex. need i say more?

13 Dear Maria, Count Me In — All Time Low pop punk singer rhys!! i love!! another "fun" song

14 Are You Gonna Be My Girl — Jet yet another "fun" song! ugh idk i just find them singing about a girl to be very hot and sexy

15 You're Gonna Go Far, Kid — The Offspring the guitar.. the aggressive lyrics.... the shouted ad libs (def cass on the 'trust, deceived' at the end of the second verse) and the lower harmony by az

16 Scotty Doesn't Know — Lustra A "FUN" SONG!! ONE OF MY FAV "FUN" SONGS ON THIS LIST!! like i said,, these hot guys singing about a girl.. add in the fact that theyre singing about fucking her>>>>>

17 I Was Made For Lovin' You — YUNGBLUD OKAY. i have a good bit to say about this one bc i realize it's an interesting choice. i had the original by KISS on here at first, but the sound was a bit too classic rock compared to the rest of their stuff. this cover gives a bit more of a modern-alt-rock sound? i want to make known that i HATE the way "can't" in the first "i can't get enough of you baby" is sung, but it's only once. i also love the PICK UP IN TEMPO AAAAA its really good. let me walk you through the thought process. im seeing in concert we've got like.. a dark stage. a spotlight on rhys seated at a piano, singing into the mic. once he sings the first chorus, he stands, the lights come up, az tosses him his guitar, he catches it with one hand, throwing the strap over himself, the guitar spins around him and then rhys starts fuckin GOING AT IT. anyway..... yeah that's why i chose this cover instead of the original

18 You Give Love A Bad Name — Bon Jovi ik i said classic rock wasnt their sound but this one is just so good. i can see them giving this one a slightly more modern feel

19 Savior — Rise Against do me a favor. listen to this with headphones. start the song with just the right earbud in, then at the end of that intro verse, put the left one in so the guitar grows. those isolated vocals would be az. thank u.

20 Situations — Escape the Fate remember how 16 was one of my fav "fun" songs on the list? THIS is my fav one. its just so openly sexual, vey raunchy, they'd be very sexy singing this and the crowd would cream their pants

21 The Drug In Me Is You — Falling In Reverse this one's just as simple as great vocals, bitchin guitar, amazing drums

22 Paralyzer — Finger Eleven again, BITCHIN guitar

23 I Hate Everything About You — Three Days Grace the AGGRESSION!!!!! RAAAA!!!!!!! thats it, it's aggressive and they'd be hot playing this song

24 Covet — Basement another slower song, but i love it so i put it. duh. every album has one or two slower songs, this is one of them.

25 Zombie — Bad Wolves i absolutely LOVE this one. it has more of that rock feel for these guys than the original by the cranberries. thats why i chose this cover. i can see them head banging to this one

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yall were interested so just gonna tag you here!! hope you enjoy :D @anarchiii @chairofchaos @blushingfawnsposts @mellowmusings @acoazlove

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[written-beyond-the-grave]

Taking the Mikaelsons to a Concert

IK a bitch was gone, but a bitch is back… sparingly. I been on tumblr doing my shit but ummm I started this shit while in highschool like sophomore year… It’s been a year since I graduated college…. Anyway, fuck it we ball bc someone needs ot get this shit wet first with the Mikaelson’s… shout out to @starlightandfairies @wholoveseggs @klausysworld for holding it down. I love everyones work, y'all be feeding the fandom

If it’s snowin’ I ain’t going… leggo (once again, I write this for niggas. Mwah, to freedom)

So primarily I feel like the Mikaelsons would all be down to going to a concert, I mean Nicki, Doja, Lil Nas X, Mariah the Scientist, Chloe Bailey, Drake, Jhene Aiko, Victoria Monet, the Weekend, Kendrick Lamar, Travis Scott--- you get the point. You are the object of their desires and affections so they’ll go…. But what will ensue???

KLAUS

For nosey bitches in the back I got y’all…. This is Klaus finally biting the bullet and taking you to a Nicki concert, the Pink Friday 2 tour!

First, it would take hella time to even get him to go, this man is busy running lives, making hybrids, acting like he a real active party in whatever council shit he bullied his way into in New Orleans, and like running Rebekah’s love life…. He be busy 

He probably feels like he should take you out for something, so he asks you what you want. Anything your heart wants he’ll give it no problem: private helicopter tour of NYC, a week in Brazil, couples massage, hell even go see puffins up in Iceland. But you know what your bitch ass asks for?

To see Onika Tanya Maraj…. As you should

This man is staring at you like “Love… who is that?” And you look at him and tell him “Nicki Minaj, Nicki Lewinski, Nicki the Ninja, Nicki the Boss, Nicki The Harajuku Barbie…. Have you not learned????” And he just stares at you in amusement like ‘it’s no Mozart, you modern women have such…. Vulgar tastes… but I will endorse this, for you my love”

Wait till he gets there AHAHAHAAAAA

You’re pulled up in all your glory, pink everything, sunnies on, gloss on, heels as big as his dick… And you know I don’t think Klaus would ever let you put him in pink spandex. But I think he’ll allow like a shirt of Nicki’s face on him, and like maybe a barbie chain on his neck… He’s a hybrid, he can’t be seen out like this (you def sent photos to the rest of the family of this). 

I feel like Klaus would be chill af with the crowds and shit, until bitches start getting rowdy when Roman comes on stage. I feel like he’ll just be vibing, but mostly looking at you as you lose your shit 

“A 100 MUTHAFUCKA CAN’T TELL ME NOTHING, I BEEZ IN THE TRAP”... bby chill, you’ll sweat that wig off and it’ll slip back. But deadass, it’s like another beast when she comes out and it activates something in you. Like the regular old human that Klaus knew of is gone, and is replaces by a bad bitch that would definitely put her shoe on his neck and he likes that

Funny enough, there is one song that Klaus would know all the words to… Moment for Life-- HEAR MY OUT, DAMN. Ok, the song is about literally getting everything you want and being at a point where no one can touch you or even fathom to be at your height of success or clout. Klaus Mikaelson gets whatever he wants, no one touches him-- or if they do, they won’t live long enough to tell the tale. King shit, so imagine your surprise when you hear this man over everyone else singing along and being into it

Yeah, did that shit. “What I tell 'em hoes? Bow, bow, bow to me, drop down to ya knees” Drake type man…. And towards the end just reminisce of all the people, woman, children, and villages he pillaged to get where he is now… mentally deranged, having a god complex and inferiority complex at the same damn time, and daddy issues while treating his siblings like his own dad LMFAOOOO

Good luck Klaus whores

And then when she starts bringing in old shit like the songs with Sean Kingston or Gyptian…. Oh boy, I know that man is catching a whine as you yell at him “YOU’RE SO PRETTY AND YOU’RE NICE YUH DUN KNO SEH NICKI AS YO WIFE” Ik you bitches telling Klaus exactly that and putting emphasis on wife bc where tf this Icelandic viking silverback think he going????

But as the show goes on, it’s a cute experience between you two as you guys kinda switch roles and you get to be super unhinged and rock out with the other people there and go bar for bar. Like you couldn’t fuck Michael Kors if you was FUCKIN’ Michael Kors

dabs sweat off my forehead

He’s happy to take you home and baby you when you come from the energy drop, but he will be wondering were that energy comes from bc you ain’t putting all that work in when he fucks you soooooo

REBEKAH

Ok so for this one…. Give me a Lil Nas X, Doja Cat, and Rico Nasty ass collab in a concert (bc that’s my dream lineup and y’all can take all my money). I feel like Rebekah needs the girl power and the gays for this so let me cook

I deadass feel you wouldn’t need to convince her of shit, she’d be the one to ask if you wanted to go because she’s heard some of their songs via you jamming in the bathroom and just booked tickets as soon as you said yes. Hey, it’s to make you happy and you deserved to be pampered-- and she’s trying to get in her modern experiences since she was in a box for a long ass time

1st song is Montero, it has to be she definitely wants to fucked out from the jet lag and becoming part of the mile high club-- it’s her thing. Plus she loves the glitter and probably being two glitter gay/bi/whatever floats your boat people that are dressed in matching outfits, but different color combos. Titties are out, and y’all are sprayed down in glitter

Then after that I feel like it would be Rico Nasty coming in hot with “SLAP A BITCH” and I know you and Rebekah felt this song on a spiritual level, so it’s both you screaming in each others faces while she has her arms wrapped around you bc she loves love.

Then it pops off with “STFU” bc a lot fo y’all hoes needs to take a seat and shut the fuck up when big bitches are in the room… anyways, personal issues. A lot of y’all do not need a mic and are not the big titty bitches y’all make yourself out to be… and take the mics away from podcast men, please. I BEG

But anyways, it’s really a whole anthem to all the rock/rap alt girlies out here. Rebekah isn’t used to the music, but she can get buck wild to it, especially when it comes down to Doja and RIco when they interchange with “Swamp Bitches”.... That’s my shit ngl

Nah bc opening a verse with “I WISH DEATH ON ALL YOU BITCHES” was insane… love you Rico <3 That song makes you wanna fight ever bitch in the state that ever did you wrong, every bitch working at goodwill that couldn’t take your brothers army discount bc you wasn’t personally in the army, the wack ass bitch at the post office that didn’t want to work there that day, and that grandma down the block that keep eyeing you and telling you that you ain’t hot shit… she wasn’t even hot shit when Project C hit the neighborhood and niggas were getting sprayed with hoses

Anyways

I truly feel like she’d appreciate the girl time with you, and just to be, and have her shit out and have fun. It’s what she deserves

KOL

THERE IS NO HEAR ME OUT YOU WILL LISTEN: NF

I know I been on the black artists wave, but for the niggas that really be feeling shit NF just knows and I feel like with Kols past of always being the forgotten sibling, not being i the pack of “always and forever”, dying all the fucking time, and getting treated like shit by everyone else unless they need to minute magical thing that’s super important he’s left in the dark

He is the most self-aware sibling out of everyone out this fuck ass family. And I feel for him honestly, being the black sheep, being the outcast. Being able to use your magic when you were a witch and then all of a sudden you can’t do that shit anymore because you’re dumb ass mom wants to make y’all fucking vampires and freaks of nature and then wants to kill you, like it was your fault in the first place? Shit was really whack.

Like he calls his family and siblings out for having a para social relationship that is super into emotional and measurements, and having no boundaries whatsoever, killing other peoples lovers, putting them in coffins just so Klaus doesn’t feel like he’s losing his siblings because he can always take them whenever he goes. But they’re still in a box, they’re not living life they’re not being happy. And that just shows how much class is really his daddy‘s son, even though his dad really isn’t his dad because his mom cheated on, her husband with a werewolf. And Kol clocks all of that.

So I feel that he would really vibe with NF, I really do. Therapy session, intro, hope, all of those songs the whole album really would have him crying in your arms at sometime around midnight when he just came over to listen to some tunes and have a good time, and I feel like you introduce NF to him. He gets hugged, and he knows that NF is speaking about his life someway somehow and it just really hits him and he just cries in your arms for that time

I don’t care how corny you think this man is, this is real music and he writes about things that are real, and that happens to him. The song mansion is legitimately about Kol’s life with being being abandoned and abused by his own family, and his own father, as class was taking most of the beatings, he still had to watch all of that. But being the middle child that he was, he just was overlooked, and that probably speaks as to why he acted out and didn’t get any of attention that he deserves.

And I feel that as Kol gets into a relationship relationship with you, you being his black queen, because I know that man was up in Hady for some reason helping him with the revolution. He just doesn’t give a fuck does what he wants to do so it makes sense why he would be with the black woman because it’s just everything, they are on earthly, they are Wisdom and magic and chest seal combined into a specific human type. And I love this for them, I love this for me.

But anyways, back to the subject at hand. I feel like you, dear reader, would surprise Kol with NF tickets because he’s been wanting to go for a long time, and you guys went dress up any fancy just probably black, cute little combat, boots and things like that. And then just head to the show. But as soon as the show starts, he probably starts off with one of his hard hitters. I’m imagining either therapy session, or mansion to really get the tears going. And it’s really just the two of you standing side-by-side, maybe even hand and hand shouting every single lyric word for word, and just letting out all the shadow work and trauma, that you two have built up over the past couple years, granted Kol is Literally hundreds of years old, and you’re probably someone your 20s or 30s. But trauma is trauma and y’all need to deal with that.

Bc deadass, these lyrics are Kol: “What's my definition of success? Listening to what your heart says. Standing up for what you know is. Right, while everybody else is” because in every single episode, when Kol says not to mess with some dumb shit that causes about to fucking do everyone else ignores him, even Elijah, and they fuck around and find out, and they all of a sudden need help. And then complain like no one told them exactly what the fuck was going to happen in the first place. This man is always right, and he needs people to listen more to him. He’s been listening to what his heart says, he’s been going out and meeting new people and trying to live a life that he would really be proud of. Even though he’s very much unhinged and still acts out because he wants to be king of the world and wants to have some form of control like Klaus has because he knows that he can never get away from Klaus.

And then, when I feel like it’s towards the end of the show, and NF finally drops, hope, I feel like that’s when Kol really starts to let go of things a little bit, and really start listening to lyrics and make a promise to himself with like, maybe fighting against his dark side, a little bit of all the things that he’s known, and then just digging himself a deeper hole. He wants to actually get better for you, and for himself to have a healthy relationship. Because he’s never had that in his life, and you’re just not a play thing to him at all.

“Thirty years of running, thirty years of searching. Thirty years of hurting, thirty years of pain. Thirty years of fearful, thirty years of anger. Thirty years of empty, thirty years of shame. Thirty years of broken, thirty years of anguish…. I’m taking the reins” so it’s really just him taking the reins of his life, and just making it better than whatever it actually was. And I hope that can be therapy, I really do. But this whole concert experience would really just be a gigantic therapy session for Cole, but also having fun with you because there’s no one else that he would let see that vulnerable and that lively and have his whole façade slip down like that besides you.

But he’d be a Drake fan, Travis Scott, and probably XXXtentacion… he’s still a menace, but he’s a healed menace…. well, healing.

ELIJAH

Here is the black womans whore himself… and my man *does the debby ryan* 

I know that Elijah appreciates music in general, that man literally writes his own concertos, plays the piano, plays the violin. He is classically trained. And I expect nothing less. Honestly, he really is him. And he is also still very much worse than Klaus, even though he would like to believe that he is not.

Honestly, I don’t think you would really have to introduce Elijah to rap or hip-hop music. I feel like he would already be in Erykah Badu fan, probably really like the Beastie Boys, was into old school, underground in New York, hip-hop and rap. He was probably there, underground, too, for shits and giggles when he wanted a break. So no, I don’t think you would have to introduce him to hip-hop, maybe to a couple artists and everything. But, that doesn’t need help with that department

I feel like Elijah would definitely be a Kendrick, Lamar, J. Cole fan in the rap game and even Lil Wayne too. But I want to get into some good old Tom foolery before I say my crème de la crème.

With the whole Kendrick, J. Cole and Drake beef, that’s happening, I don’t think that Elijah would ever take any sides. But I do feel like he would definitely keep up with the news, even though you wouldn’t expect them to, with the whole suit and everything.

To start off, I feel like you being the reader would bring up the whole rap beef thing to Elijah. Since two weeks ago, you already brought up the Megan Thee Stallion versus Nicki Minaj rap beef that was happening. And now, this time it is Kendrick versus everyone, fuck the big three it’s just big me nigga BUM

And I feel like it would be brought up during lunch or something since you guys have lunch together, and you’re just giving him the whole play-by-play and then letting him listen to the song. And I feel like you need to play a couple times for him, so he really gets to like listen to lyrics and understand because one thing about it is…. Metro dissed everyone in morse code

NAHHHHH CUZ YALL NOT HEARING HIMMMM BEEP BEEP BOOP NIGGA

Mans said “BUM” with his chest

Like I know, J. Cole was on his bike on his way to the studio. As soon as he heard what Kendrick Lamar said, but then again, he could also not be doing anything because he’s not the type to just be on Rappy just to get some shit going you know?

But anyways, I feel like Elijah would totally indulge in this, and he would write down a whole play-by-play with what everything means because the power money and respect? “Sweetheart, Drake is the money, Jermaine Coke is the respect, and Kendrick is the power….” I can fully foresee that man giving you a dissertation on every single line and lyric and how it is a jab at every single one of them, and the meaning is behind it. You got not only a history professor, but one of the great literary investigators of all time for no reason.

I feel like Elijah is low-key. Also waiting for Drake and J. Cole to respond to what Kendrick said about them. And he’s so messy, for he really is, because he acts all high and mighty but he’s really waiting for the gossip about what people about to say

But moving along from the rat beef, I really do feel like this man would be a Lil Wayne fan because Lil Wayne was setting a standard early in the 2000s and probably even before then about how he really is one of the best rappers out there. Like, no one else was doing it like him and no one else doesn’t like him, and will never do it like him. You would catch yourself humming to a Lil Wayne, and I feel like that man would pick it up instantly, and just go bar for bar on whatever humming note that you were on and it’s amazing, but it seems so out of character for him, but it’s really not.

Because this concert is going to be one hell of a trip because first and foremost he is not going there with a suit on, you’re going to have to get this man to be casual. Which shouldn’t be hard because he loves you, you’re his little chocolate drop, pumpkin. But putting this man in a leather jacket and some jeans and whatever shoes that are comfortable for him to wear at this concert is gonna be one thing. Fighting off other bitches while in the crowd is going to be another thing entirely as well.

But listening to him, actually let lose for the good two hours that you’ll be there at the concert screaming at your lungs, and listening to this man stay on rhythm beat and have actual breath control when he’s going for a speed to is going to be insane in mind melting

Let’s be honest, you wanna fuck this man on the regular basis just because he’s him. But you’re telling me that he’s cultured and he can wrap and knows what the fuck he’s talking about?

Coochie hours have been extended

And it gets even worse when he knows that this turns you on so anytime that you turn back to look at him he’s already looking at you, wrapping the verse with little to no effort and giving you those bad eyes because he just knows. He knows what he’s doing to you and you have no Other choice but to either look away or to hold eye contact because we both know this is gonna end up messy when you guys get back to the Airbnb or hotel room

“I said, "He's so sweet, make her wanna lick the wrapper" So I let her lick the rapper”, and this mans eyes are dead set on you and his gives the lip bite… Yeah yeah… time for me to gooooo

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

These guys stay bickering lmfaoooo

A/N: We are back at it again with a Chapter 3!!! Yall writing this was so much fun, and you guys will find out why (wink, Wink). Our beloved Sanji really needs to confess his feelings to Y/N. Now chapter 4 is currently being written and will be posted tonight! That Chapter is going to be filled with angst! Like always the stories will be linked as well. So without further ado, here's Chapter 3. 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (Here),

Word Count: 5.3K 

Sanji X Reader, OP x Reader, 

Chapter 3: A Captain’s Resolve

  Luffy comes rushing down the steps, eyes wide with concern. “Y/N, are you alright?” he asks, his voice laced with worry. “Sorry guys… I might’ve complicated things by punching that Celestial Dragon.”

You smirk, trying to shake off the pain. “I’m fine, Luffy. Don’t worry about me.”

Pappag waddles over, his little eyes wide in disbelief. “I can’t believe you took a bullet for Hatchi!”

Hatchi, who is now by your side, looks down, his expression filled with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. This is all my fault.”

You wave him off, trying to ease the tension. “It’s fine, Hatchi. We’ve got bigger problems to deal with. We need to figure out how to help Camie.”

Just then, Luffy’s gaze sharpens as he notices movement in the far corner. Guards are coming from all directions, ready to attack.

“We’ve got company,” Luffy warns, his voice turning serious.

One of the guards sneers, “What kind of idiot would risk their life to save a damn fish... and a girl?” 

Luffy’s eyes narrow as he notices guards in the far corner, swarming in from all directions. Without hesitation, he springs into action. “Gum-Gum Whip!” he shouts, his leg stretching out and sweeping through the crowd of workers, sending them flying.

Zoro, with a smirk, unsheathes his swords. “Looks like I’m getting in on this too,” he says, slashing through the attackers with swift, precise movements.

You try to get up, frustration bubbling up inside you. “Damn it, if only I had my weapons…” you mutter, scanning the chaos around you.

Sanji notices your struggle and springs into action, kicking away anyone who dares come near you or Hatchi. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this covered,” he assures you, his eyes sharp and focused.

Nami, meanwhile, is sprinting down the stairs when she suddenly trips. But instead of panicking, she seizes the moment. “Thunder Tempo!” she shouts, releasing a burst of lightning that strikes the oncoming enemies, electrifying them.

“Nice shot, Nami!” you call out, impressed.

As the chaos unfolds, Saint Roswald, watching from a distance, begins to shake with anger, his eyes fixed on Charlos, who was left beaten and humiliated. Saint Shalria screams at the remaining guards, “Do something! Kill those pirates!”

As the chaos unfolds, Saint Roswald watches, his anger boiling over as he takes in the scene. “Why can’t you guys just accept your fate!” he roars, his face twisted in fury.

Luffy, still in the heat of battle, launches into another attack. “Gum-Gum Battle Axe!” he shouts, smashing through the guards with a powerful blow. He then turns, his gaze locking onto Saint Roswald. “Back down! My friends are not for sale,” Luffy declares, his voice full of resolve.

Saint Roswald recoils, taken aback by Luffy’s fierce determination. But before he can respond, Usopp, who had been above, suddenly falls from his perch and crashes directly onto Saint Roswald, knocking him out cold. “Oops… didn’t see that coming,” Usopp mutters, rubbing his head as he scrambles to his feet.

Luffy, turning around from the commotion, spots Usopp, Brook, and Robin making their way through the chaos. “Usopp, Brook, Robin! Glad you made it!” he exclaims with relief.

You look around and see the remaining members of the crew all together. Happiness fills you, knowing they’d all come through. Before you can shout out anything, a guard starts advancing toward you. “Get back here!” he growls, brandishing his weapon.

You quickly begin to slide backwards, narrowly evading each attack he throws at you. Using your good leg, you kick out and send him stumbling. “Come on, is that all you’ve got?” you taunt, trying to keep your footing and maintain distance.

Luffy, catching sight of the struggle, shouts over, “Usopp! Camie is still in the fish bowl, but we need to get rid of those collars first!”

Nami, glancing around nervously, adds, “We better hurry or the Navy might get here any second!”

At that moment, a voice with a chilling edge cuts through the noise. “It’s too late. They’re already here.”

Everyone freezes. Luffy, eyes narrowing, demands, “Who the hell are you, and what’s with the polar bear?”

Bepo, the bear, blushes slightly at the mention. You look up, your eyes widening. “No way… it’s…” you mutter in shock.

As the realization dawns, Robin finishes your thought with a calm certainty. “Trafalgar Law,” she says, her gaze steady. “Luffy, they’re pirates just like us.”

Luffy, glancing at the imposing figures around them, raises an eyebrow. “Even the bear?” he asks, pointing towards Bepo.

“Yeah,” Robin confirms. “The guy standing in the back is Eustass Captain Kidd.”

Brooke, always ready with a bit of trivia, chimes in. “You mean the one who has a higher bounty than Luffy?”

You mutter under your breath, your eyes widening in recognition. “So that’s Kidd?”

Trafalgar Law steps forward, his demeanor serious. “The Navy has had this place surrounded since before the auction even began,” he says, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic scene. “You’re not getting out of here easily.” He pauses, his expression softening just a fraction. “Not sure who they’re trying to capture, but I gotta say, I’m quite impressed. You put on a good show, Straw Hats.” The crew looks at each other with a look of worry. 

Law's eyes then lock onto you, and his gaze feels almost palpable, sending a shiver down your spine. “Especially you, Y/N,” he says with a strange, unsettling intensity.

Before you can react, Law’s fingers move with precision. “Room,” he announces, and a blue orb envelops you.

Sanji’s voice cuts through the chaos. “What the hell?”

The orb expands and contracts, and with a quick “Shambles,” you find yourself teleported. You look around, disoriented, and see that Sanji is no longer next to you. Instead, Law stands before you, his gaze unyielding.

Sanji’s frustrated shout echoes in the distance. “You bastard! What did you do?”

Law ignores Sanji’s outburst, his focus entirely on you. You stand firm, meeting his gaze with a determined look. “What do you want from me?” you demand, trying to keep your voice steady. 

As Law moves closer, he suddenly reaches out and places his hand lightly on your shoulder. The touch is unexpectedly gentle but electrifying, sending a rush of warmth through you. The proximity of his body and the intensity of his gaze make your heart race uncontrollably. It’s a calculated gesture, not just physical but also psychological, designed to unnerve you.

His fingers brush against your skin, and with a flick of his wrist, you feel a strange, tingling sensation that seems to emanate from the point of contact. This move is part of his Devil Fruit powers, creating a brief but intense link between you. The touch leaves you momentarily paralyzed, caught between confusion and a deep, unsettling awareness of his presence. His lips curl into a faint, enigmatic smile, adding to the effect.

Law continues to hold your gaze, you find yourself struggling to maintain composure, the blush on your cheeks betraying your internal turmoil. The combination of his touch, the intensity of his eyes, and his close proximity creates a powerful, disconcerting moment that leaves you shaken. 

Brooke and Sanji, catching sight of what’s happening, prepare to intervene, their expressions tense and ready for action. But before they can act, you notice a figure approaching rapidly from the corner of your eye.

Without warning, you’re shoved into something hard, the impact leaving you dazed and momentarily stunned. You look up to see a shadowy figure standing over you, their features obscured. The suddenness of the collision leaves you reeling, struggling to regain your bearings as you try to assess the situation and find a way out. You begin to shake your head and, as you’re about to move away, hands grasp you firmly in place.

“You’re not going anywhere, doll,” the voice is laced with a menacing energy. Slowly, you turn around to see Eustass Captain Kidd, his eyes glinting with a predatory gaze.

Usopp, from across the chaos, yells out desperately, “Y/N! Snap out of it!”

You shake your head vigorously, trying to dispel the disorienting effects of Law’s earlier move. The power still lingers, making it hard to think clearly. "That’s some power," you mutter to yourself, trying to steady your nerves.

Kidd’s smirk widens as he holds you in place. “Struggling, are we? Not so easy to escape from me, doll.” He lowers his head, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, his tone laced with menace and seduction. As his tongue traces a teasing path along your earlobe, you moan involuntarily, a shiver running down your spine. Kidd smirks triumphantly as he continues to hold you firmly. 

You grit your teeth, struggling to free yourself from his grip. As you do, you notice Shalria, holding a gun trained on Camie. “Oh no, Camie!” you shout, panic rising in your voice. Everyone turns to assess the dire situation. 

Nami’s voice cuts through the chaos. “We’ll never make it in time!”

Just as Shalria cocks her gun, she is immediately stunned along with the other guards, their bodies collapsing to the ground. “It’s the same power as before,” you recognize, feeling a surge of hope.

Seizing the opportunity, you kick Eustass hard, breaking free from his grasp. As you make your way down the stairs, your heart pounds in your chest. A loud explosion echoes nearby, causing you to stumble. You open your eyes to see the same man who had helped you with the explosive collars and the giant walking out of the smoke.

The old man looks at you with a knowing smile. “My, what do we have here?” he says, his voice carrying a sense of calm authority.

Luffy, breathless but relieved, steps forward. “Who are you?”

The old man bows slightly. “I’m Rayleigh, and I’ve been eagerly waiting to meet you, Monkey D. Luffy.”

You step forward, your eyes locked on Rayleigh. His warm smile reassures you. “Good to see you reunited with your crew,” Rayleigh says, turning to you. “Now, let’s get your mermaid friend free.”

He turns to Camie, who looks nervous. “Trust me and don’t flinch. I’m going to remove your collar.”

Pappag and Hatchi shout in unison, “No, don’t! It’ll explode!”

Tension grips the crew as they look on in worry, but both you and Luffy trust Rayleigh’s expertise. With one swift movement, Rayleigh removes Camie’s collar. The expected explosion happens, but it’s controlled and nothing more than a flash.

Franky emerges from the chaos, waving a set of keys. “Hey! I got the keys! What the hell happened here?”

He tosses your weapons toward you with a smirk. “And Y/N, I found your blades too.”

You catch them and feel a wave of relief. “Thanks, Franky!” you exclaim, examining your weapons. Your joy turns to disappointment as you notice one sword is damaged beyond repair.

“These bastards must have been toying with them,” you mutter, assessing the damage. “No worries. Once we get to Fishman Island, I’ll get a new one made.” For now, you have one good sword and two small blades.

Rayleigh’s presence has left Law and Kidd stunned. Law, his eyes widening slightly, says, “Rayleigh? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Kidd, equally shocked, mutters, “That old man... he’s the Dark King?”

Rayleigh chuckles softly. “Indeed. Now, let's focus on getting everyone out of here.” 

Franky, with a decisive gesture, throws the keys toward the remaining slaves. “If you want to escape, now’s your chance!” he calls out, his voice booming with authority. The keys scatter,the free slaves begin to unlock their collars and start rushing toward the exit, desperate to escape their tormentors.

Franky then grabs Camie and Pappag, making sure they’re safely with him. Rayleigh, ever composed, reaches for Hatchi, pulling him away from the chaos.

Suddenly, a loud voice booms through the auction house’s remains. “This is the Navy! We have this place surrounded, pirates! Step out and surrender!”

Luffy, brimming with determination, starts moving toward the exit, ready to face whatever the Navy has in store. However, Kidd and Law step up beside him, their faces set with equal resolve.

Kidd, with a confident smirk, steps forward. “I’ve got this,” he says firmly. “Law, Luffy, you two stay back. Let me handle the Navy.” 

Law raises an eyebrow, his tone clipped. “Just stay out of my way.”

Luffy scowls. “You’re the last people I need to deal with right now.”

Nami, watching the bickering, shakes her head in disbelief. “Are all captains this childish, or is it just ours?”

You chuckle, your gaze shifting to Zoro, who’s smirking and readying his swords. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a challenge,” you say, your excitement palpable.

Zoro’s grin widens. “You bet.”

Sanji grabs your wrist firmly, his usual flirtatious demeanor replaced by a deep concern. “Y/N, you’re still injured. I can’t.. lose you… 

Sanji POV.. 

Grabbing Y/N wrist, I try to get her to understand my point of view. She just got out of an injury she is in no condition to fight. “Y/N, you’re still injured,” I said, my voice strained and trembling. “I can’t… lose you…

I look up and watch as her determined gaze meets mine, a fierce resolve in her eyes. “Sanji, I’ll be fine. I promise. I’ve got this.” 

But that still wasn't enough, I'm scared something else might happen,“You don’t understand. You’re important to us… To me… If something happens to you... I don’t know what I’d do.” my hands tremble as I cling on to her, trying to steady myself. 

Y/N’s touch on my cheek is warm, comforting, and for a moment, it eases the panic I felt inside. “Sanji, I promise I’ll be careful. Just trust me, okay? I need you to stay strong for the crew.”

Taking a shuddered breath, struggling to keep my emotions in check,I mentally say “Now’s your chance, tell her how you feel”. But instead I said “Alright, but if you get in trouble, I’m coming for you. I swear it." My voice is firm but laced with vulnerability.

You offered me a reassuring smile, and your fingers gently squeezed my hand. “I’ll be safe. And when this is all over, I’ll be right here with you.”

I nodded, my face etched with anxiety “Be careful, Y/N. Please.”

As you prepare to leave, Chopper approaches with a small vial in hand. “Hey, I’ve got something to help with the pain. It should last about 45 minutes.”

You take the vial with a grateful nod. “Thanks, Chopper. I’m going to need this.”

Y/N POV… 

You take the vial with a grateful nod. “Thanks, Chopper. I’m going to need this.”

Opening the cap, you drink the liquid, and begin to feel a bit better. You move your injured leg to see if you can add weight to it. 

Smirking you say “Ok, now i'm ready” 

As you prepare to head out, Bepo, looking a bit nervous but determined, steps up. “I admire you, Y/N. I hope you can stay safe.”

You smile at the cute bear, touched by his words. “Thanks, Bepo. I’ll do my best.”

Bepo looks up at you with a mix of shyness and determination. “Y/N, can I... can I have your number? Just in case something happens, you know?”

Penguin and Shachi exchange glances and shake their heads. “Bepo, what are you doing? What about Captain Law?”

Bepo lowers his head, clearly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I just... I really admire you.”

You smile warmly at Bepo, finding his nervousness endearing. “It’s okay, Bepo. I appreciate it. Here, you can have my number.”

Bepo’s face lights up with relief and gratitude. “Thank you, Y/N! I promise I’ll keep it safe.”

Giggling, you turn to Bepo with a playful smile. “I’ll see you out there, Bepo.”

You then glance at Penguin and Shachi, giving them a mischievous wink. “And as for your captain,” you say, looking them up and down with a grin, “I’ve got something special planned for him.” You give a final wink before turning on your heel, heading out with Zoro by your side.

Zoro smirks at you, his sword ready. “Looks like we’ve got some fun ahead.”

You grin back, feeling the adrenaline rush. “You bet. Let’s show them what we’ve got.”

Outside the Auction house….

As you and Zoro head out, the battlefield’s chaos unfolds before you. The clash of steel and the shouts of combat fill the air. Just as you’re about to engage, you notice someone standing nearby. Without turning to face him, you smirk and call out, “Nice of you to stop by, Killer.”

Killer, his mask revealing only his intense eyes, looks at you. “Didn’t think I’d miss this,” he replies, his voice muffled but serious. His grip tightens on his weapon, ready for action.

The first cannon shot is fired, but Luffy quickly reacts with his Gum-Gum Balloon, deflecting the blast and sending it crashing into a group of navy soldiers. “Gum-Gum Balloon!” Luffy yells, grinning as he lands among the enemies, his infectious enthusiasm lighting up the scene.

You watch in awe as Kidd’s powers come into play, metal bending and twisting around him. The sheer force of his abilities is captivating. You can’t help but feel curiosity. "What’s it like to wield such raw power?" you wonder silently, watching him with a mix of admiration and intrigue.

Law’s powers are equally impressive. You’ve seen him use his “Room” ability before, but witnessing the precision and control up close is something else entirely. The way he manipulates space with a flick of his fingers is mesmerizing. You can only imagine the extent of his abilities.

Zoro and you both shout, “Luffy!” in unison. Luffy turns, his face lighting up with his trademark grin. “Hey guys!” he responds, clearly thrilled to see you both in action.

As the battle rages on, Kidd’s voice cuts through the chaos, calling out, “Nice moves, doll!” The term stings, and you see Law’s expression darken. He turns to Eustass with a snarl, “Don’t you dare call her that. She’s not some object to be tossed around!”

Luffy, charging in with a determined look, adds, “Yeah, she’s not just a doll. She’s my crewmate!”

Killer, on the other hand tries to advance, his eyes locked on you with an intent that suggests he’s about to flirt, even amidst the fight. Before he can make his move, you spot a cannonball hurtling towards him. Without hesitation, you leap into action.

With a swift, acrobatic maneuver, you land on top of Killer, your legs securely around his waist. The cannonball explodes harmlessly in the distance, sending debris flying. You find yourself in a striking position, your eyes meeting Killer's with a playful smirk.

Killer’s eyes widen in surprise as you land securely, your position giving you the upper hand. You sense a faint blush behind his mask. Your gaze briefly meets Kidd’s and Law’s, then you lower it back to Killer. 

Leaning in close, your lips brush just above Killer’s ear as you whisper, your voice low and sultry, “It’s a shame there’s such an audience, don’t you think? I rather enjoy having you beneath me like this.” You press your body closer, your breath hot against his skin as you continue, “Tell me, Killer… wouldn’t you agree that this position suits us perfectly?”

Your words drip with dominance, each syllable meant to tease and unnerve. You feel the slight shiver that runs through him, the tension in his muscles betraying the effect you’re having. The power dynamic is unmistakable—you’re in control, and you both know it.

Killer’s breath hitches,the playful glint in your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed as you hold his gaze, letting the weight of your words linger.

You lean in even closer, your lips just grazing the edge of his mask as you purr, “Too bad we’re not alone… I could show you just how much I enjoy this.”

Your teasing smile widens as you feel him tense beneath you, your words clearly hitting their mark. From the corner of your eye, you catch Zoro’s knowing smirk, fully aware that you’re playing a dangerous, thrilling game, and you’re winning.

Sanji, who’s been watching the entire exchange, can’t hide his irritation. He’s seen this trick before—you’ve pulled it on him more than once. His eyes narrow, burning holes into Killer as he watches him pinned to the ground beneath you. With a frustrated sigh, Sanji pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of his lighter. “Does she really have to do all that?” he mutters under his breath, unable to tear his gaze away.

Robin, catching his reaction, smirks and leans in slightly. “Is someone jealous?” she teases, her voice soft but laced with amusement.

Sanji grumbles, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Yeah, yeah… Let’s just get out of here so we can make our quick escape.”

As you glance up, you see your crew making a swift exit toward Grove 13. “Perfect,” you think, watching them disappear into the distance. They’re making their move, just as planned.

Kidd, who has been silently observing the entire interaction, feels a surge of possessiveness boil up inside him. His eyes narrow dangerously as he lashes out at Killer, his voice sharp and accusatory. “What the hell are you doing, Killer? We’re in the middle of a fight, and you’re letting yourself get distracted?”

Killer, now pulled out of his daze, looks up at his captain, realizing the predicament he’s in. “Captain, I can explain—” He hesitates, his usual calm demeanor shaken. “I think… I might be in love.”

The absurdity of his confession hangs in the air for a moment, and you can’t help but chuckle softly. With a fluid motion, you gracefully rise from your position, leaving Killer lying there, flustered and bewildered. You cast a final, teasing glance his way before turning back toward Zoro.

Zoro, still grinning, shakes his head as you approach. “You sure know how to stir things up,” he comments, his tone admiring.

You shrug playfully, adjusting your grip on your blade. “Just keeping things interesting. Now, where were we?”

Luffy, still laughing at the scene he just witnessed, dodges effortlessly as the Navy soldiers fire cannonball after cannonball at him. He weaves through the explosions with ease, grinning as if this were nothing more than a game. The Navy soldiers, growing increasingly desperate, switch to firing bullets. Zoro and you move in sync, your blades flashing as they deflect the incoming rounds, the sharp clang of steel on metal ringing out.

In the midst of the chaos, you notice a Navy soldier charging toward you, blade drawn. With a swift move, you sidestep, slashing through the soldier’s defenses with precision. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of another threat—a soldier poised to strike Law from behind.

Without a second thought, you shout to Zoro, “Cover me!”

“What?” Zoro mumbles, momentarily confused by your sudden request.

“Just do it!” you yell as you sprint toward Law, determined to intercept the attack. Your heart pounds as you close the distance, ready to strike the soldier down before he can harm Law.

But just as you’re about to make contact, Law glances at you, his eyes sharp with concentration. With a swift gesture, he uses his ability, switching your body with the soldier’s in an instant. You barely have time to register the change before you find yourself tumbling forward, only to land squarely on Law’s chest.

Law’s arm wraps around you instinctively, holding you close as you both catch your breath. His usual cool demeanor cracks slightly as he looks down at you, his expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “You really need to watch where you’re going,” he mutters, his voice low.

You smirk up at him, your face inches from his. “I had it under control. But thanks for the save”

Before Law can respond, Bepo comes bounding down the steps, followed closely by Penguin and Shachi. The sight of you lying on Law’s chest doesn’t escape their notice. 

“Captain, looks like you’ve caught something interesting,” Bepo teases, his voice a mix of admiration and embarrassment.

Penguin snickers, nudging Shachi. “Hey, Shachi, think the captain’s finally met his match?”

Shachi grins, adding, “Or maybe he’s just found a new way to ‘switch’ things up.”

Law’s grip on you tightens slightly, his eyes narrowing at his crewmates. “That’s enough out of you three,” he snaps, though there’s a faint blush creeping up his neck.

You can’t help but laugh at the banter, the tension of the battle momentarily lifted by the playful exchange. “Careful, Law,” you whisper teasingly, “wouldn’t want your crew to get the wrong idea.”

As Law helps you to your feet, you take a moment to brush yourself off, your eyes lingering on his for just a second longer than necessary. A playful glint sparkles in your gaze as you step closer to him, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Thanks for the assist, Law,” you purr, your voice dripping with flirtation. Before he can react, you lean in and press a quick, soft kiss to his cheek, leaving a faint blush on his usually stoic face.

Law freezes for a moment, clearly caught off guard, his cool demeanor slipping. “What was that for?” he mutters, his voice a little rougher than usual as he tries to regain his composure.

You smirk, stepping back with a teasing grin. “Consider it a thank you. You know, for keeping me from getting skewered.” Your tone is light, but there’s a sultry edge to your words that leaves Law momentarily speechless.

Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi, having witnessed the whole thing, burst into laughter, unable to resist adding their two cents.

“Oh, Captain, you’re really moving up in the world,” Penguin teases, his grin wide.

Shachi chuckles, nudging Bepo. “Guess our captain’s got some charm after all.”

Law’s face darkens as he glares at his crewmates, though the blush on his cheeks betrays his usual composure. “You all really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he grumbles, clearly flustered.

You can’t help but laugh, thoroughly enjoying the effect you’ve had on the normally unflappable surgeon. “Don’t worry, Law. I’ll be around if you need another ‘thank you’ later,” you say with a wink, your voice teasing.

As Luffy’s voice echoes outside the auction house, you feel the weight of the battle and the urgency in his call. “Hey Zoro, Y/N! Let’s head out! The coast looks clear! Right!” Luffy’s voice is full of determination, but before you can make a dash for it, a marine manages to grab you from behind, pulling you down with a strong grip.

You struggle against him, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Luffy, don’t worry! I’ll stay for a few more minutes! You guys go ahead!” you shout, trying to keep your voice steady despite the situation. “I’ll yell out when you pull me, got it, Luffy?”

Luffy hesitates, his wide eyes full of worry. “I can’t leave you!” he yells back, torn between his loyalty and the need to keep moving.

“Just do it! Trust me!” you command, grabbing the marine by his uniform and slamming him to the ground with a forceful move. “Go now!”

Luffy grits his teeth, torn but knowing he has to trust you. With a reluctant nod, he dashes off, joining Zoro as they make their escape. It’s not long before Luffy catches up with Sanji’s group, but the tension is palpable.

Sanji’s eyes darted around, his heart pounding with anxiety. “Luffy, why is Y/N staying behind?!”

“She’s only staying for a few minutes, but she’ll signal me when it’s time,” Luffy explains, his voice tight with worry. “Damn it!” Sanji curses under his breath, his fists clenching in frustration. He can’t stand the thought of you in danger, especially when he’s not there to protect you.

Back at the auction house, you fend off wave after wave of marines, your movements becoming slower as the effects of Chopper’s medicine start to wear off. “Damn it, I only have a few good minutes left,” you mutter to yourself, feeling the exhaustion creeping in.

Suddenly, a marine captain looms over you, his blade raised high, ready to strike. “You’re mine now, pirate!” he snarls. But just as his sword begins to descend, something strange happens. The blade slips from his grasp, clattering to the ground. The captain’s eyes widen in shock as he watches all the metal around him, including the armor of his men, get sucked away by an unseen force.

You feel your own blade tugging in your hand, but your strong grip keeps it in place. Before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, a flash of movement catches your eye. Suddenly, you’re being lifted off the ground, strong arms holding you securely.

Kidd’s power repels the metal toward the marines, knocking them out one by one with a relentless force. You look up to see Killer holding you tightly, ensuring you’re not hurt. His presence is both comforting and protective.

Kidd hovers over Killer, his gaze intense as he kneels down to check on you. “I got you, Doll. You’re safe now,” Kidd murmurs, his voice surprisingly gentle as he caresses your cheek and hair, his fingers lingering a bit too long.

With what little strength you have left, you reach up, your hand resting against Kidd’s chest. You smirk, your voice low. “You know, Kidd, you’re not so bad up close. Maybe next time, we’ll skip the battle and get straight to the fun.” You let your fingers trace lightly over his chest, enjoying the way his eyes darken with a mix of surprise and desire.

Kidd’s grin widens, his possessive side flaring up as he leans closer. “I���ll hold you to that, Doll. The New World’s gonna be a lot more interesting with you around.”

You chuckle softly, but before things can get any further, you yell out, “Luffy! Now!”

In an instant, Luffy’s stretched arm wraps around your waist, and you’re pulled away from Kidd and Killer’s grasp. As you’re being drawn back toward your crew, you blow them a playful kiss. “This was fun, boys. Can’t wait for a repeat in the New World,” you tease, your voice carrying a flirty edge that lingers in the air.

Kidd watches you with a heated gaze, his hand still tingling from where you touched him. Killer’s eyes, though hidden behind his mask, seem to follow your every movement.

As you’re pulled back toward safety, a sudden bright light flashes from your left side, catching your attention. Your eyes narrow as you try to discern its source, wondering if it’s another enemy lurking in Grove 13. The light grows brighter, and you feel a new wave of tension rising within you, knowing that whatever’s coming could change the course of this chaotic battle once again.

.

.

.

.  We Got another long chapter! What can I say I love the details and this was very fun to write. Looks like Sanji got himself some competition with Law, Killer and Kidd. and Y/N cant help but flirt with these men! cant complain cause id do it too lmfaooo!!! This next chapter you guys don't want to miss! Thank you guys for following, liking, and reblogging the story. Chapter 4 will be written tonight and posted tonight! 

[mixtape-racha]

paper rings | bang chan

waking up in australia next to your fiance was better than you ever could have imagined // 18+, minors dni

words: 1.32k // warnings: established relationship, engagement and marriage, reference to trying for a baby, soft dom!chan, sub!fem!reader, slapping (once), unprotected sex

a/n: yeah icl i tried to wrap this up asap because i had no motivation to finish it anymore LMFAOOOO

with the six am sun fluttering through the blinds of the beach house you were staying in, the warmth radiating off of your skin, and your fiance’s chest pressed against your bare back, you truly felt like you were in heaven. it had been approximately 10 hours since chris got down on one knee outside the beautiful sea-front restaurant you were eating at, and you were convinced the smile hadn't left your face since.

feeling him shift behind you, you carefully rolled over to face him, eyes carefully tracing every inch of his face. you truly could look at him forever. “you’re staring again, baby.” he mumbled, eyes blearily opening as he gave you a smile. you shrugged lightly, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. “can’t help it. you’re so pretty, channie. can’t believe i get to marry you.” at your admission, the tips of his ears flushed red. “oh yeah? well, i can’t believe you want to marry me. you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart. n’all mine, too.”

it may have been the way the sun bounced off his skin, each freckle reflected back to you, or it may have been the overwhelming realization that you were going to spend the rest of your life with him, but you couldn’t help but lean in and plant your lips gently on chan’s. he kissed you back with equal tenderness, his tongue darting across your lower lip, ever so kindly asking for permission to go further.

and of course, you accepted. only a fool wouldn’t allow chris to have his way with them. all you wanted was to stay in this moment, wrapped in his arms forever, craving him always but never quite satisfied. a calloused hand pulled your hips flush against his, no inch of your bodies untouching, as he nipped at your lips, wrapping his other hand through your hair, never quite close enough to you.

a gentle sigh left your lips as he trailed kisses down your jaw, leaving his mark across your throat, and your hands wandered lower to finally give him some of the relief he’d been craving. the heat radiating from your core and turn in your stomach was enough to allow you to move without thinking, chris was already straining against his boxers - the stretch making the material feel so much thinner than it already was. his fingers gently palmed at your core over your panties, your brows furrowed, lower lip caught under your teeth as you tried to suppress a groan.

“you can be noisy, baby, no one’s gonna hear us,” his hand slipped under your underwear, the warmth of your slick across his fingers making him throb. slowly, you slipped your hand below his waistband and began stroking him, thumb paying extra attention to the sensitive head. he breathed a shaky moan into the crook of your neck, other rubbing circles into your hips.

you bucked your hips into his palm, needing more friction than he was currently willing to give you, eliciting a chuckle from him. “more baby? oh, you’re so needy. lucky i don’t make you work for it more.”

in one swift motion, he’d flipped you onto my front, kneeling behind you and running his pretty hands across the expanse of your ass. god damn his obsession with your ass when the place you needed him most was merely inches further forward. “gonna fuck you so good, baby girl. fill you up with my cum, yeah?” the moan you let out at his words was almost embarrassing, but you both knew your ever-present breeding kink would come in handy with the prospect of starting a family.

“please, channie. need it so bad, need you to fuck me so full,” you whimpered, hips pushing back to graze against his boner. “you wouldn’t deny your wife-to-be that, would you?” and if his reaction hadn’t been just what you needed you may have regretted trying to rile him up like that. instead, a large hand came down swiftly on your ass cheek, the blunt force of it forcing you forwards, nearly losing your balance and going face-first into the pillow.

the moan that left you lips was exquisite in chan’s mind, his body moving without much meaning, and ripping your panties down you legs to expose your glistening cunt. taking a breath to compose himself, chan’s demeanor once again changed, the sweet, caring man he was when you made love - rather than just an amazing fuck - reappearing. 

his palms spread your ass, and you could almost feel the way he was looking at your core with such hunger. “god, you’re so perfect. my perfect girl. gonna ruin you soon, but first i need a taste of that gorgeous cunt.”

“no, no chris please. need you inside me right now or i’m gonna go fucking crazy. please, baby, you stretch me out so good i need it.” you whined, words slurring at the amount of want in your voice.

you heard him groan behind you, the kind of groan he only let out when your words affected him much more than he wanted to admit, and you felt him crawling back up the bed. you turned yourself back to face him, absolutely enamored with the way his eyes were looking at you so softly, and heart leaping as he scooped you into his arms.

“my pretty baby, you just wanna be stuffed full, huh? wanna let me hear those pretty moans and watch as you fall apart on my cock?”

you keened, planting wet kisses across his throat. “please, channie. need it so bad.”

unable to hold back any longer, chan spread your legs, running his fingers through your folds. god, you were soaking. he’d be surprised if you weren’t dripping so much we stained the sheets below you.

groaning softly to himself, he pulled your chest closer to his, hiking one of your legs over his hip. this was undeniably your favourite position to fuck in - it was so comfortable, and so intimate that nothing could compare to it when you needed chan to be soft, and slow, and sweet.

he teased his length along your folds, tip catching your clit and causing you both to let out a gasp into each other's mouths, tongues moving lazily against one another. you rolled your hips gently, testing the waters of chan’s patience, before he bit down lightly on your jaw, tongue licking over the mark as soon as he released the skin from his hold.

“please, channie… need you inside, no teasing.” you whined, eyes rolling back as he gave in and pushed his length into your core.

you both took a moment to catch your breath as he bottomed out, the feeling of being full making you feel both so relieved and so at home. its not like you didn’t have a healthy and fulfilling sex life with chan - because you did - but everything he did got you so worked up and desperate it was almost like you needed him to be inside you to function.

pulling you in for a scorching kiss, chan rolling his hips gently, the tip of hs cock kissing that gooey spot inside you just right. you moaned into his mouth, back arching ever so slightly, pushing your chest further into his.

the feeling of his hands on your skin, tongue in your mouth and cock buried inside you was almost too much to bear.

“please move, baby. just wanna make you feel good.” you whispered, one hand grasping chan’s back while the other wrapped itself in his dark curls.

of course, he complied instantly. he’d do anything for you. rocking his hips gently, he connected your lips again, hand rubbing soft circles into your hip.

as he pressed kisses down your neck and to your chest, you caught a gleam of light hitting the stone in your newest ring, and a grin crossed your face.

you’d never been happier.

taglist: join taglist here @pretty-racha @chubbyanarkiss @downtherabbithole01-blog @amara-mars @demetrisscarf @mits-vi

[satoruhour]

not to be the bitch that makes everything abt me but i will. sometimes when we're at home and my bfs bored he'll just look at me and go "u want head ?" and i feel like gojo would do that, our little munch. dont even have to say yes cause he already knows u do lol

(also this is just a thought not an ask (im not sure if they're open so i wanted to clarify that :p ))

LMFAOOOO HE WOULD 😭😭😭😭 hes very impromptu like that and it varies from person to person but id def be a liiittle annoyed if i had plans bc i cant just cancel but also im pretty sure gojo gives heavenly head that i cant reject him.....

youd be lazing at home, a one day break from missions and youre so used to being busy that it feels odd to laze around. you can hear gojo’s whines from the living room just cause u decided to spend ur off day in a more productive way but by waking up early (and leaving him in the bed, hence the whines) but youre starting to regret it bc u can feel ur eyes drooping and staring blankly at the tv is NOT helping and gojo is just stumbling outside scratching his body under his shirt and woo wee he always look so good in the morning you have to change ur position to clench your thighs tgt

“morning baby” its cute and all but by your second movie gojo keeps yawning and hes tucked under your arm its adorbs. is terrible at timing bc he asks u when theres a main character death on the screen and youre like in a "no wait i liked that character" state. youre not ENTIRELY sad sbout it but the fact gojo asks ..... when said character on screen got shot .. LMFAOOOO???

“you want head?”

you groan, “NOW? i wanna know what happens to xyz character”

“stop lying you watched this movie before! i remembering coming home to the credits after i finished a mission.”

“man stfu”

you never can win against gojo though bc he traps u in his charm easy enough, interrupting your focus by kissing you and teasing you with words. he has no decorum 😭😭😭 soon enough hes easing you to lay back against the couch and peeling away your pants.

“youre such a bad liar baby! youre wet already”

“yeah from KISSING . not seeing han die in tokyo drift!”

“let that man GO his car isnt even all that anyway”

“you take that back right now!” it’s all banter LOL its usually like that with gojo but he cuts you off soon enough when he kitten licks your clit and you moan and youre already sighing in the middle when gojo emerges again.

“to be fair, he is pretty cute.”

“gay ass.”

gojo tsks and pouts, only laying on your thigh with a big frown.

“you wound me”

“shut up and eat my pussy.”

“okay damn!”

hello hello!

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

“you can call me on my phone i’ll run to you, you won’t ever have to Sleep Alone”

“but if you want it you can have it, you can have me in full”

synopsis// the lines between platonic and romantic become even more blurred for you, if possible, when you realize your best friend truly would do anything for you.

pairing// maki zenin x gn!reader

word count// 1.8k

contents// ages arent specified but everyone is adults, angst if you squint maybe, ooc maki/soft maki, hurt/comfort?, mentions of nightmares

notes// YES THIS IS INSPIRED BY ANOTHER WATERPARKS SONG LMFAOOOO. i cannot be stopped but cmon its sleep alone!! sleep alone supremacy!! my fav!!! also also this was supposed to be wayyyy more light hearted n then it suddenly got kinda deep for a moment idk how that happened... anyways do ppl even read maki ff?

Nightmares were nothing new to you; you had them quite frequently, if not all the time, and your best friend had repeatedly told you to call her when they occurred, and she would be more than willing to come and comfort you. But how could you do that? You couldn't for two reasons.

The first being that your best friend was Maki, and she wasn't much of a touch person (or really a people person in general), which is all you wanted in those moments: to be held. and two, that your best friend was Maki. the girl you are quite literally in love with. Is it silly to be in love with the oh-so independent girl who demands to do things herself? Yes, very much so, and you know that considering you’re the exact opposite. Neither of which is a bad thing; it just makes things difficult— well it would if you two were dating, you think. 

Tonight was just like any other night: you got yourself comfy in bed, scrolled through your phone for a few minutes before texting a sweet little goodnight to Maki, who quickly replied back, wishing you sweet dreams; it was just like any other night, nightmares included. which is why you woke up in a cold sweat, practically panting; the only thing illuminating your room was the moon.

Once you had slightly calmed down, you sat up and grabbed your phone. You flinched away from the bright screen until your eyes could adjust, finally seeing that it was around two a.m. You sighed as you unlocked your phone and called Maki. You constantly refused her offer of coming over at times like this, but you always accepted her offer of calling; you’d take what you could get— which could be quite literally everything you want, but alas, you’re not aware of that yet.

Maki hums over the line. “Hey, you ok?”

You hum back. “nightmare.”

Maki clears her throat. “I’ll call you back in, like, ten minutes, maybe, ok?”

You go wide-eyed at her statement, and you can feel your heart drop a bit. Were you bothering her? “I'm sorry, are you busy?”

“Yeah, something like that, but i promise we’ll talk ok?" Maki says goodbye almost too eagerly before hanging up. 

You sigh and practically throw your phone back onto your side table as you flop back down in bed. You knew this day would come, where she’d get annoyed with how you called almost every night, with how you weren’t as self-sufficient as she was, and besides, what could she be doing at two in the morning? You don't know how long you lay there staring at your ceiling, feeling like you wanted the world to swallow you whole, but you know it's been awhile. You probably would have stayed like that until morning if it hadn't been for the knock on your front door bringing you back to your senses.

Your feet dragged as you begrudgingly made your way toward the door, opening it only to see Maki there with a slight tired smile on her face as she held a bag full of things you couldn't quite make out in one hand. Standing there in your pjs, you suddenly felt very vulnerable; yes, she's your best friend, but you didn't want her to see you like this, see you as a person? It would complicate things, complicate your feelings even further. Your face feels hot and blue as the two of you stand there in silence for a few moments. 

“Are you gonna let me in?” she asks flatly with a slight tilt of her head. 

You don't say anything; you just move out of the way and let her in, and she walks toward your room as if she'd been here before, which she hasn't.

“Maki, what are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief as she sits on your bed. 

“Well, I had a feeling you’d call, and I don't know; I thought it would be better for you if I was actually here, right?” She speaks so softly to you, which isn't much of a surprise; Maki was softer in general with you than she was with other people, and it always leaves you with butterflies, it always leaves you with a hope you know you shouldn’t entertain for your own sanity. 

“You could’ve told me,” you huff as you sit next to her on the bed. 

Maki laughs slightly. “Why, so you can tell me not to come? Yeah, right," she says jokingly.

You hum in agreement; she’s right; you'd never willingly let her come. “So what’s in the bag?”

Maki looks at the bag in her hand briefly before placing it on your side table. “Just some snacks; I wasn’t really sure what we’d do when I got here…”

You hum sleepily; you weren’t sleepy a few seconds ago, so why now? Why does just being around Maki soothe you like a lullaby? 

“Or we can lay down,“ she adds when she realizes how droopy your eyes are getting now. 

You don't try to protest her suggestions; you're too tired at this point, and your sole wish is just to lay down with her. You nod and get up to turn off the light you had turned on earlier when you heard the door. While you're up, Maki gets herself comfortable on the far side of the bed, and you quickly join her. The two of you lay there stiffly on your backs, and although you were sleepy and happy in her presence, it's not enough; you need to feel her, be held by her. 

“Maki?” you question meekly. 

“Yeah?” she hums.

“You can totally say no, but, um, do you think you could hold me?” You ask nervously as you fidget with your hands. 

Maki turns her head to look at you and doesn’t say anything; she just smiles sweetly at you while she lifts her arm, which you can see from your peripheral vision; she’s giving you access to lay on her. You look at her wide-eyed briefly before practically scrambling to get your head on her chest, your arm draping over her torso as she brings hers back down to rest on your back. You two lay still for a few moments before she starts to rub her hand up and down your back soothingly, an action she never thought would come naturally to her, yet here she is, and she has to say it might be the best feeling in the world—even better than proving her “family” wrong. 

"Y/N, how come you’ve never let me come over before?” She asks out of the blue, fingers still trailing up and down your back, which, along with the question, sends shivers down your spine that you hope she can’t feel. 

“I don’t know. I guess I’m embarrassed?” You murmur against her. 

“Embarrassed?” she asks, clearly confused. 

You groan slightly. “Haven’t you ever noticed how different we are?” 

Maki tilts her head down slightly to look at you, eyes and eyebrows narrowing at you in confusion. “what?” 

“You’re so self-sufficient, so independent, and I’m what? can’t go a night without a nightmare? need you there for me every night?” You respond back almost bitterly, disgusted by your own needs. 

maki scoffs. "Y/N, you might be more “independent” than I am.” 

“what? "How—I mean, look, you're here because of me!” you exclaim. 

“Did you ask me to be here?” she asks. 

you frown. “well no but-“ 

She cuts you off. “Have you ever asked me to be here?” 

“no…” you reply quietly, unaware of where she’s going with this. 

“exactly! You deal with all your shit by yourself, even when I’ve made it abundantly clear that I’m more than willing to be here for you. maybe you aren’t independent because you want to be, but you’re still independent,” she states matter-of-factly. 

“Isn’t being independent a good thing?” You ask quietly, your voice shaking slightly.

She shrugs slightly, as much as she can with you on top of her. “To an extent, but you can be independent and still let me be here for you; they aren’t mutually exclusive.”

You nuzzle your face into her and sigh. This is nice—nicer than you could’ve ever expected. Cuddling with Maki while she rubs her hand up and down your spine, comforting you in more ways than one, is something you could only dream about, but your dreams don’t even come close to this; the real thing is so much better. and suddenly you're clutching her shirt as words fly out of your mouth faster than you can keep up.

“Maki, I like you,” you murmur against her considering your face is practically shoved into her, almost like you're trying to become one with her, which to be honest, you kinda are.

She stifles a laugh. “i know.” 

You shake your head and reiterate, “No, I like you.” 

She hums and repeats, “I know.”

You blink a few times before you abruptly lift your head to look at her. “wait what?” 

She nods and smiles at you. “Oh yeah, I’ve known for a long time.” 

“How?” you exclaim. 

“You’re very obvious,” she replies nonchalantly. 

“And- And you’re okay with it?” You ask nervously, this was not how you were expecting your night to go at all. You were expecting to just call Maki for a little bit until you inevitably felt like you were bothering her and hung up, but not before she tells you she’s more than willing to go over, but you say no, and then you’d stare out your window until you eventually fell back asleep and maybe or maybe not get woken back up from another nightmare. That’s how you were expecting this night to go.

“Of course I’m okay with it; I like you too, moron,” she replies back playfully. 

You try to stop your mouth from dropping open, but to no avail; you’re absolutely shocked. You would have never guessed that she liked you back—okay, maybe you could considering how soft she was with you compared to everyone else, but that’s just how best friends are, right? Oh my god, are you seriously trying to convince yourself that she still sees you as just a friend when she just confessed otherwise? you’re insane.

Sometime while you were lost in thought, staring at Maki with your jaw dropped, she brought her free hand that wasn’t caressing your back up and shut your jaw for you, her hand on your face quickly bringing you back to earth.

You clear your throat and blink a few times before stumbling over your words, “So, uh, um, what now?” 

She hums and pretends to think for a moment. 

“Well, I think now you won’t ever have to sleep alone.” 

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

“If you tell anyone about me cuddling you, I’ll kill you, by the way,” she adds on not even a few moments later. 

You giggle before littering kisses on her face, speaking through the kisses, “Yeah, I know.” 

© LITTLEXBIMBO

[mundanemodulus]

in the spirit of living like jordaiden has a thriving 2010s tumblr era following, I felt compelled to fill out a ship meme for them...

cleaner crop, more insights, and a blank template under the cut xoxo

Age/Height

JORDI'S AGE/HEIGHT NEVER GET REVEALED!!!! I just made it up based on what my heart wanted, and my heart wants Jordi to both be slightly taller and a little older than Aiden bc it makes for a cuter dynamic. Annoying old man bothers similarly old, but slightly younger, man.

How it Happens

I don't think either of them fully intend for it to happen, nor does it happen particularly quickly because, in Scotty's words:

“What is it about your generation? Why can’t you just talk to one another?”

Jordi inadvertently trips face first into having Genuine Feelings for Aiden because for some inexplicable reason, he cannot stay away from Aiden for long. He makes excuses for himself all the time but we all know what he is (🌈🌈).

Aiden is slightly different in that he doesn't actively try to create opportunities to see Jordi... it just so... happens to work out... their schedules align and Jordi crashes into his life... or something goes sideways and he needs Jordi's help... and then post Legion DLC he gets his fanfic-esque "Oh" moment.

Handling Conflict

RESIDENT SHIT STIRRER JORDI REPORTING IN. HE LITERALLY TRIED TO KILL AIDEN LMFAO. He moved on real quick from the attempt too LOL, bro doesn't take anything That Seriously. He's not always difficult for difficult's sake though—Jordi and Aiden have frequent ideological disagreements but I imagine that time tempers them both... and in the end, Jordi goes where Aiden does...

And we know how Aiden feels about disagreements. He still hangs on to Lena's death and pursues revenge rather doggedly... also, I think it's really funny if he just keeps bringing up the fact that Jordi tried to kill him Once. Aiden isn't completely conflict averse though and we see him butt heads quite a few times in the Stars and Stripes novel.

Relationship Attitude

ok. so Jordi has a reputation of being a hotshot playboy that never commits to anything and strings all his lovers along bc commitment isn't really his style. UNTIL AIDEN.

Jordi forgets all about his flings and somehow falls FACE FIRST into monogamy bc all he thinks of anymore is Aiden and the only person he booty calls is Aiden. So yes, he is Very Committed to Aiden EVEN IF HE TELLS HIMSELF HE ISN'T.

Aiden is... Aiden. He's never letting Jordi go.

Attachment

this one is funny to me bc I KNOW Jordi doesn't think himself as being protective of Aiden AND YET HE COMES RUNNING BACK TO SAVE AIDEN AT THE VERY END OF THE BOOK, AND THREATENS WRENCH DURING LEGION WHEN HE THINKS HE'S HOLDING AIDEN HOSTAGE.

Aiden is once again Aiden. I don't think Jordi can top that. We saw the lengths he went to protect Nicky and avenge Lena.

First to apologize after a fight

Jordi's pride is riding on the line at all times and he doesn't think he's wrong most of the time LMFAOOOO so Aiden usually ends up apologizing first... <3

The best caregiver when the other is sick

Jordi simultaneously has horrific and amazing bedside manners. Aiden is pretty consistently pleasant though... and it comes from caring for Nicky when she was sick, and then later Jackson and Lena when they got sick...

Designated driver

they both fight over this one tbh LMFAOOO Jordi does most of the driving in the novel but I just knooooooow Aiden hates being a passenger princess if he can help it... same thing for Jordi... both just feel more at Control when they're the one behind the wheel

(drunk or otherwise)

Sensitive to changes in their partner

The entire novel is a WEALTH of tidbits where Jordi and Aiden just Wordlessly Understand each other. They know what the other is thinking, how they operate, what they want, and so so much more GOD I CANNOT GET OVER IT THEY'RE OPEN BOOKS TO EACH OTHER

The one who proposes

Jordi "I have nightmarish commitment issues the likes of no one you've ever known before" Chin struggles to say "I love you" let alone "Will you marry me?" so the responsibility falls on Aiden both times HAHAHAH the proposal happens post legion, btw <3

Template:

[johnslittlespoon]

sorry i dont know how to be happy...and slight cw for implied sexual harassment feel free not to post this <3

but. bucky having a close call incident with one of the guards in the camp- the first person he runs into after *isn't* gale but the get the vibes of what happened and know they need to get *him* to gale asap. and gale is so angry and hurt but tries so hard to push it down to comfort him </3 his poor sweet boy has been strugglig enough and really didn't need one more thing. sobbing in gale's big arms telling him he's sorry, gale rocking him shushing him telling him he has not one thing to be sorry for he didn't do anything wrong.

giving me angst asks is so dangerous rn while i'm still in post–finale grief lmfaoooo count your days (buckle in, i think this is gonna get lengthy and i should probably just write a oneshot bc i have many thoughts but we'll see) (and yeah, cw for assault)

vv

i haven't seen anyone talk about this happening to john (might've just missed it tbf) and in a way i get it, because y'know gale is 'visually' more likely to be a target of things like that and we don't see what he goes through at the camp before john gets there, but i'm also surprised that i haven't seen more posts talking about it the other way around because i mean john literally comes into camp with a reputation, we see it right off the bat when the interrogator basically calls him on being a man whore lol.

i can see guards (hypocritically, bc they'll turn around and hurl slurs in the next breath) making offhand comments and passes at him, "nothing that i can't handle" when one of the others catches it happening one day, and the way john is so nonchalant about it makes them wonder how often it happens.

but one day a guard doesn't like the way he mouths off at them when they say something gross to john, and it results in john being shoved to the ground with the guard atop his back in a quiet corner of the camp, and he doesn't even hear half of what's being said because his ears start ringing and all he can remember is the feeling of the cold cobble street beneath his face and the shouts of the riot around him.

vaguely registers the guard moving to feel him up, his skin crawling, bile rising in his throat, but it only takes a few seconds before someone else is approaching and the guard jumps up so as to not cause suspicion. john drags himself back to his feet in a daze, stumbling away in the general direction of his block with his head buzzing, flinches hard when he feels a hand on his arm but realizes it's just brady looking at him with concern, brady who'd caught the guard on top of him.

gale looks up from his bunk when the door opens and he sees brady ushering john in, watches brady sag with relief when he sees gale's there, and gale only has to glance at john to know something's happened, rolls out of his bunk immediately and looks at brady in alarm. he sees red when brady tells him how he'd found john, but john is staring into a corner of the room and he knows anger isn't what he needs right now, so he swallows it down, moves to stand in front of john instead as brady leaves the room, reaching up to cup his face in his hands.

john's eyes move to look at him, but he's not really looking at him, until gale murmurs a "hey, you're okay", brushing his thumbs over john's cheekbones, and then he watches john crumble and his heart sinks. and maybe any other day, john wouldn't break like that, but gale knows he's already had a hell of a week and whatever went down must have been the final nail in the coffin because as soon as he's led john to the closest bunk, john's collapsing into his arms and he can feel hot tears against his neck and gale feels sick and has to keep swallowing to fight his own tears back.

he can feel how tense john is in his arms, like he's still trying to hold back from really showing his emotions even now, and gale pets his hair, assures him it's okay, "you don't have to hide from me, bucky." and his heart shatters when he starts getting whispered apologies through hiccuped sobs where john's face rests on his chest, gale shaking his head immediately, promising him that he has nothing to be sorry for, squeezing him tighter as he rocks him gently.

gale thinks about all the different ways he'd like to go out and murder that guard, almost scaring himself with the aggression he feels, but he shoves it down so john doesn't pick up on the red–hot anger, focussing that energy on holding john tight and whispering words of comfort until the sobs become quiet shudders, feeling him finally, slowly start to relax in his arms.

(gale probably hears john huff out a shaky little laugh when he tells him "that guard better sleep with one eye open until we get out of here" because the thought of gale actually being violent is laughable to him; he doesn't realize how much gale would really do for him, how much it hurt gale to see him stumble into the room like that.)

i definitely want to properly tackle this concept in a oneshot someday so forgive me for being vague in some areas, i don't wanna fully brainrot it out and then not feel the need to write something longer about it, you feel? <3 but hopefully this is sorta what you were envisioning. they both deserved better :(