#Loan Terms and Conditions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carnalcrows · 1 month ago

Text

Terms and Conditions Applied

pariring: gangster! male OC x male reader [profile]

summary: You're a single dad, drowning in debt, barely holding it together for your daughter. But when loan collectors come knocking a little too hard, you find out your debt belongs to someone far more dangerous: Felix Marino, the quiet but infamous head of one of the most powerful mafia syndicates in the world. He makes you a deal—your freedom, for a job. One job. But nothing is ever that simple in his world. Especially when you're not sure what terrifies you more: the blood on your hands, or the way Felix looks at you like you belong to him.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, explicit violence, blood and trauma aftermath, mild panic attack / dissociation, threats and coercion, organized crime themes, single parenthood under duress, mild sexual content, handjob (reader receiving), power imbalance, emotional manipulation, PTSD-like symptoms.

word count: 4.9k

The knocks came hard and fast.

They rattled the apartment door like gunfire—three hits, pause, two more, and a final slam that made the hinges groan. You froze mid-step, a half-unpacked grocery bag dangling from your fingers. Inside it, a bruised apple rolled to the floor.

Not again.

You scanned the room automatically, as if the act of tidying clutter might somehow soften the blow of reality. But the apartment was already bare. Sparse. Clean, in that way that says we don’t have much, but we’re trying.

A soft voice drifted from the hallway behind you. “Papa?”

You turned. There she was—your daughter. Four years old, hair mussed from a post-nap world, her favourite stuffed rabbit trailing from one hand. She rubbed her eyes with the other, blinking at you.

Your heart clenched.

“It’s okay, baby,” you said quietly. “Go back to your room, yeah? I’ll be right there.”

“But who—”

“Just the mailman,” you lied, kneeling down to smooth her hair. “He’s loud today.”

She stared up at you for a beat longer than usual, as if her tiny brain could already tell something wasn’t quite right. Then she nodded solemnly and padded back down the hallway, the rabbit dragging behind her like a weary soldier.

The knocking came again. Louder this time.

You straightened up, set the bag on the counter, and took a breath.

When you opened the door, the two men standing on the other side looked like they'd been born in leather jackets—one tall, one squat. Neither looked thrilled to be here, but they sure weren’t leaving empty-handed.

“Morning,” said the taller one, stepping forward without waiting for an invitation. “Nice day, huh?”

You didn’t respond. He took that as agreement.

“Mr. [Last Name],” said the shorter one. “We’re here about the debt.”

“I know.”

“Good.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then you also know your payment was due four days ago.”

“I told you,” you said. “I’m working extra shifts. I’m doing what I can.”

The taller man walked a slow circle around your living room, peering at the cheap furniture like it offended him. “A place like this, I’m surprised you haven’t sold the kid’s toys yet.”

Your jaw tensed. “She’s four.”

The shorter man clucked his tongue. “And if you don’t have something by Friday, you’re going to be explaining that to the Boss in person. You know how he feels about delays.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder.”

They left without another word. The taller one flicked a crumpled cigarette onto your doormat and stomped it out as a parting gift.

You shut the door. Locked it. Then leaned against it with your eyes closed.

⋆｡��✩

The silence in the apartment returned slowly, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft patter of small feet against tile.

“Papa?”

You opened your eyes and looked down. She was back, rabbit in hand.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”

She wrapped her little arms around your leg, hugging you as best she could. Her cheek pressed against your jeans. “You’re not sad?”

You knelt again and pulled her into your arms properly, breathing in the smell of strawberry shampoo and comfort.

“I’m okay now,” you whispered into her hair. “Because I have you.”

⋆｡°✩

You made pancakes for dinner.

It wasn’t your best work. The batter was too thin, the pan unevenly heated, and the only syrup left was the cheap, knockoff kind that smelled more like corn than maple. But she still grinned when you put the plate in front of her, legs swinging from the dining chair as she kicked at nothing in particular.

“Can I put peanut butter on it too?” she asked, already reaching for the jar.

“Only if you save a piece for Mr. Bun.”

“I always do,” she said with a solemn nod, as if it were some sacred pact between her and the stuffed rabbit.

You watched her eat, chewing slower than usual, trying to stall the moment. The kitchen light flickered overhead. The stack of unpaid bills on the counter seemed to grow by the day, and rent was due in less than a week. You didn’t know how you were going to pay off the collectors by Friday, let alone face the man behind them— the one they called their boss, in hushed, clipped tones.

A name you’d never heard until two weeks ago. A name that now haunted every idle moment.

You’d tried not to ask too many questions, but the way the others spoke about him made your skin crawl. Not loud, not showy — but dangerous. Not because of violence, but because of how controlled he was. And how rarely he needed to raise his voice to get things done.

You only owed him money because your original lender sold the debt off.

It wasn’t supposed to get this far.

“Papa?”

You blinked out of it. “Yeah, bug?”

She looked at you with peanut butter smeared on her chin. “Can we read the owl book again tonight?”

You smiled, even if it felt thin on your face. “Of course.”

⋆｡°✩

She fell asleep curled beside you on the couch, mid-sentence, head tucked against your arm. The copy of The Owl Who Wasn’t Afraid of the Dark lay open in your lap, thumb still pressed to the page.

You didn’t dare move her. Not yet.

The room was quiet now, except for the muffled hum of the hallway outside. You could still hear footsteps every now and then—neighbours coming home, doors opening and shutting. It was the kind of rundown apartment block where the walls had ears, but no one cared enough to listen.

You leaned your head back and stared at the ceiling, one hand gently smoothing your daughter’s hair.

Then came the buzz of your phone.

You fumbled for it quietly, careful not to wake her.

Unknown Number

You stared at it. A second buzz followed — a text.

[ The Boss would like a word. You’ll want to make yourself available.

Tomorrow. 10 PM. Zia’s Diner. Come alone. ]

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to. Whoever sent it would already know you’d be there.

⋆｡°✩

Zia’s Diner looked like it hadn’t changed since the '80s. Flickering neon sign. Red leather booths dulled from wear. Grease-stained menus laminated so many times the corners curled like dying leaves. It was the kind of place that smelled like burnt coffee and fried onions no matter what time of day you walked in. The kind of place where someone like you belonged.

Someone like the one you owe money to? Not so much.

You got there ten minutes early. Sat in the back corner booth, facing the entrance like you’d seen people do in mob movies. Ridiculous, really — like knowing who sat where would make any of this easier.

The waitress came by once, chewing gum and offering you a tired, sceptical look. “You ordering, or you waiting?”

“Just coffee,” you muttered, and she poured you a cup without a word.

You kept checking the time.

10:00 PM sharp, the bell above the door jingled.

He didn’t walk in with an entourage. No theatrics. No broad-shouldered bodyguards or gaudy suits. Just a man in a black wool coat, collar turned up against the wind, dark hair swept back with the ease of someone who didn’t need to try.

He didn’t look like a loan shark. He looked like he could be an architect. Or maybe a violinist. His features were clean-cut but strangely gentle, like someone who hadn’t always belonged to a world like this.

And then he looked at you.

A quick once-over. Not judgmental. Just... observant.

He made his way over with unhurried steps, slid into the booth across from you, and removed his gloves one finger at a time. The silence stretched, thick and taut.

“I’m glad you came,” he said at last. His voice was low, smooth, but not performative. Not like someone trying to play a role. “I didn’t want this to become unpleasant.”

You swallowed hard. “I figured it already was.”

He tilted his head slightly, almost like he was considering you. “It doesn’t have to be.”

You didn’t answer.

The waitress reappeared, looking more alert this time. “Coffee?”

“Tea,” he said, without looking at her. “Chamomile, if you have it.”

You blinked. Tea?

Once she left, he turned his gaze back to you. “You’re a difficult man to track down, considering you haven’t left your apartment in three days.”

Your jaw clenched. “I’ve been with my daughter.”

“I know.” His tone didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes now. Not softness — but interest. “She’s the one who likes the owl book, right?”

You stiffened. “You’ve been watching us?”

“I have people. They were concerned. It’s their job.”

“Concerned about what?”

He paused. Then: “About how a man ends up this deep in debt when he’s clearly not reckless.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Because the worst part was— he wasn’t wrong.

He leaned back, resting his hands on the table. His fingers were long, elegant— with tattoos running across them.

“I didn’t call you here to threaten you,” he said calmly. “If I wanted to scare you, I’d have sent someone else.”

“So why did you call me here?”

His lips parted slightly, like he was about to answer. But then the tea arrived. He thanked the waitress with a quiet nod, waited until she was gone again.

And then he said:

“Because I don’t think you belong in this mess. And I’m interested in seeing how you get out of it.”

You stared at him, not sure if it was a trap. A test. Some kind of manipulation.

“Why?” you asked, voice quiet now. Honest.

He stirred a packet of honey into his tea. No rush. No tension. “You remind me of someone.”

That shut you up.

Not because you knew what it meant, but because of how he said it. Like it hurt to say. Like the memory was still raw, even if the delivery wasn’t.

He took a sip of his tea, eyes never leaving yours.

“Let’s talk about your debt,” he said.

⋆｡°✩

You tried to read him. Failed.

Everything about him was composed — the measured way he spoke, the way he held his tea with both hands like it was a habit rather than a choice. His voice was quiet but sure, like he’d never once had to raise it to be heard.

He didn’t move like a man used to violence, but you knew better than to trust that.

“You said you wanted to talk about my debt,” you said after a beat, keeping your voice steady. “So talk.”

He gave a soft hum, almost amused. “Alright.”

From the inside pocket of his coat, he pulled out a thin leather folio and opened it on the table. You caught your name on one of the papers. Your signature on another. A string of numbers you didn’t want to look too closely at.

“I assume you know how much you owe.”

You nodded once. “Too much.”

“You’re not wrong.” He tapped a finger against the paper, not unkindly. “You took out the first loan eighteen months ago. Medical bills, yes?”

You stiffened. “My daughter was in the hospital. Pneumonia. We didn’t have insurance.”

He nodded like he already knew, which he probably did.

“And the second loan,” he continued, “was for rent, food, and utilities. You were out of work.”

“My hours got cut,” you muttered.

“And the third?”

You looked away. “Funeral expenses.”

Silence settled again. Not judgmental. Just quiet.

He closed the folder gently and folded his hands on top of it. “There are… less generous men you could’ve borrowed from. Men who would’ve already left a message on your doorstep. Or through your window.”

“I didn’t exactly get a choice in where the loans came from,” you snapped, sharper than you meant to.

He didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Just watched you like he’d been expecting that edge to come out eventually.

“You’re right,” he said. “You didn’t. But you have one now.”

That gave you pause. “…What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned back, eyes steady.

“It means I’m offering to restructure your debt. Reduce the interest. Extend the timeline. Provide resources, if you need them.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

He didn’t smile — but his mouth twitched, like he almost did.

“I told you. You remind me of someone.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is to me.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. Couldn’t decide if this was some twisted act of pity or a long con. But you weren’t used to people giving you anything. Especially not someone with this much power—with hands that clean, a gaze that calm, and a reputation like his.

He took another sip of his tea.

“I don’t expect you to trust me,” he said, almost kindly. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. But I want you to understand— I’m not doing this to trap you.”

“Then what do you want?”

His fingers paused on the edge of the cup.

“I want you to keep your daughter,” he said simply. “I want her to grow up safe. With her father.”

Something in your chest twisted. You looked down, jaw tight.

“That’s not your business.”

“Maybe not. But I’ve made it mine.”

You looked up again, and this time, there was no softness in your voice. “What do you get out of it?”

A longer pause.

He studied you, not like a man considering what to say, but like he was wondering how much you could handle. Like he’d already made up his mind.

“I’m not the villain you think I am,” he said finally. “But I’ve been one before. I know what it takes to get out.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Your hands curled around your coffee cup, suddenly aware of the chipped ceramic, the cool air from the vents brushing your neck. A waitress refilled a glass of soda at another table. The world kept moving.

He stood slowly, gathering the folder and slipping it back into his coat.

“You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” he said. “But I’ll have someone drop off the new terms tomorrow. Look them over. Think about your kid.”

He turned to leave, then paused and glanced back at you one last time.

“And think about who you want to be when she looks back on this.”

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

⋆｡°✩

You didn’t expect it to come in an envelope.

White. Thick. No return address.

It was on your doorstep when you got home from picking Nora up from daycare — tucked under the welcome mat like some dead thing left by a cat. You stared at it for a full minute before bending to pick it up, heart low in your chest.

She tugged on your sleeve. “What’s that, Daddy?”

“Nothing, bug.” You smiled, but your voice didn’t rise with it. “Go on in. I’ll be right there.”

She slipped past you with a squeal, barreling into the apartment and tossing her little backpack onto the floor. You shut the door behind her, thumb tracing the edge of the envelope as you walked to the kitchen. The light through the window was already fading to that washed-out grey of too-late afternoons. You tore it open without ceremony.

Inside: four pages, paper thick enough to feel expensive. No header, no signature — but you recognised the same smooth, sparse formatting from the mans’s folder at Zia’s—the new terms.

You skimmed.

Then read slower.

Then stopped.

He was serious.

— Outstanding balance: reduced by 40%. — Interest: frozen, pending further review. — Monthly payments: deferred for 3 months. — Conditions:

That last part made your stomach twist.

1. You will be reachable at all times. 2. You will submit proof of employment weekly. 3. You will meet with Mr. Marino in person at a time and place of his choosing. Frequency: open. 4. You will not attempt to renegotiate through any party other than Mr. Marino himself. 5. You will not disappear.

Regards,

Felix Marino

That last line wasn’t underlined. But it didn’t need to be.

You sat down, the chair scraping across the tile.

It was clean. Too clean. He’d carved out the brutality and left behind something you could stomach — just enough rope to pull yourself up. Or hang yourself with.

In the distance, you heard Nora humming a song from her cartoons.

And you realised: you were already considering it.

⋆｡°✩

The house is quiet after Nora falls asleep, sprawled out in her tiny bed with her stuffed rabbit tucked under her chin. You'd cleaned the chocolate from her face, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead like always. Pretended like nothing was wrong. Like there wasn’t a folded letter in your coat pocket that felt like it weighed more than your whole damn life.

You sit at the kitchen table, hands steepled, staring down at it again.

Felix Marino’s terms are clear:

Six months of contracted work

Weekly check-ins at a private location downtown

No questions asked about the nature of the work.

No outside contact with “competing interests”

Nora is off-limits. Her name isn’t even mentioned.

That part almost makes it worse.

Because you don’t think Felix left her out of the contract out of kindness.

You think it’s because he sees her as yours. And what belongs to you, by extension, belongs to him now.

You grip the paper until the crease deepens. This is a deal with the devil, no matter how cleanly it’s written. Still, you’ve seen worse. You’ve lived worse. And if this means keeping Nora safe—keeping your home, your job, your sanity—then what choice do you really have?

You’ll meet his terms. But you won’t let him sink his claws in.

You won’t let him think he has you.

Your phone buzzes on the table. A message. Just a location, a time.

[ Tomorrow, 11 AM.

Wear something decent. ]

You stare at the screen for a while before flipping it over and standing up. You clean the counter. Rinse the mugs. Check the locks on the doors twice. It’s routine, but you do it slower tonight.

Just before bed, you peek in on Nora one more time.

Her tiny chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. There’s drool on her pillow. You swallow the knot in your throat.

You hope to god she never has to know how close you came to losing everything.

⋆｡°✩

The address Felix gave leads to a storefront with blackout windows and no signage. Inside, it's cleaner than expected. Sleek. Minimal. You’re greeted by a man in a tailored suit who doesn’t ask your name — just waves you through with a nod like you’re already known here.

You are, apparently.

A hallway. A door. A quiet room with a view of the city skyline. Felix is seated behind a polished desk, flipping lazily through a folder.

He doesn’t look up when he says, “You came.”

“Not like I had a choice.”

“Sure you did. You just didn’t like the alternatives.”

He gestures to the chair across from him. You sit, tense.

He finally lifts his gaze, eyes still unreadable. “How’s Nora?”

You narrow your eyes. “Fine. And she’s not part of this.”

“I never said she was.” He leans back, steepling his fingers. “Though you should know, this isn’t charity. You’ll work. I’ll watch. If I don’t like what I see, the terms change.”

“And if I don’t like what I see?”

“Then I’ll be disappointed,” Felix says, smooth as silk. “And trust me — you don’t want that.”

There’s a pause. You hate how calm he is. Like this is all part of some carefully laid plan. Maybe it is.

“You always recruit desperate dads into your service?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

You clench your jaw. “Why me?”

Felix shrugs, almost too casually. “Doesn’t matter.”

But it does matter. You can feel it.

The way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s trying to find someone else in your face. Like you’re unfinished business.

You stand. “I’ll do what you asked. But keep the personal shit out of it.”

Felix watches you with that same unreadable gaze. “Whatever you say.”

But you can tell he’s already rewriting the rules.

⋆｡°✩

You’d expected something bloodier.

Maybe it was the envelope. Maybe it was Felix’s eyes, the way he looked at you like you were already halfway his. Or maybe it was just the way his name lingered like a shadow behind every line of those new “terms.” Whatever it was, you thought there’d be blood. Screaming. A pipe wrench. Something straight out of a bad movie.

Instead, you’re standing outside a warehouse that looks too clean to be dangerous, which somehow makes it worse.

You glance down at the slip of paper again. One name. One address. Gallo. That’s all he gave you. No instructions. No backup. Just the duffel bag in your hand and a phone in your pocket that vibrated exactly once with a location pin and then went dead silent.

You should walk away. You should. But you think of Nora. Think of the groceries on the table this morning — not from your wallet. Think of the sharp suits you saw at your building’s entrance yesterday. Men who didn’t belong there. Men who made eye contact just long enough to remind you that you were being watched.

So you step inside.

The warehouse isn’t abandoned, but it’s not busy either. The air smells like oil and dust, and the lights overhead buzz faintly with age. You follow the sound of metal scraping across concrete until you see him — mid-40s, thick arms, cigarette tucked into the side of his mouth like it’s permanent.

“You Gallo?” you ask.

He looks up, unimpressed. “Who’s asking?”

You don’t answer. Just unzip the duffel and pull out the envelope inside — thick, sealed, and marked with the same insignia that was embossed into Felix’s letterhead.

He snorts. “About time.”

You hand it over. He rips it open, eyes scanning quickly. You can’t see the paper, but whatever’s written on it makes his jaw twitch.

“I paid last week,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You don’t move. Felix never said what to do after delivering the message. But you know better than to leave right away.

Gallo crumples the paper. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters. Then louder, “Tell Marino if he wants more outta me, he can come collect it himself.”

You exhale slowly. “I don’t think that’s how this works.”

He steps forward, chest puffed. “No? Then how does it work, ragazzo di merda?”

There’s a tension now — heavy and tight, like the moment before thunder. You don’t flinch, even when he gets close enough for you to smell the smoke on his breath. But your fingers twitch.

This isn’t a test of violence. It’s a test of restraint.

And you’re not sure which you’re worse at.

He laughs like he’s already won. Then, just when the silence threatens to stretch too far, he spits — right at your shoes.

You move fast. Maybe too fast. You don’t pull the knife, don’t throw a punch, but your hands are around his throat in a blink, and you shove him back hard enough that he slams against a shelf with a clang. A box of screws topples somewhere behind him.

“Try it again,” you say, low and even. “See what happens.”

You don’t remember drawing the knife.

All you remember is the way the air changed — thick, metallic, sharp with panic. One moment, Gallo’s guys were just shouting, posturing like men with too much testosterone and not enough brains. The next one of them rushed you. Pulled a gun. A warning shot, maybe. But it grazed your arm, and that was all it took to tip something inside you.

The rest is a blur. Screaming. A crash. A warm spray across your face that wasn’t your own.

You’re not trained for this.

You’re not supposed to be the guy standing in a warehouse full of broken bones and gasping, bloodied men, clutching a blade that’s slippery in your hand. You were a barista three years ago. A father. A husband, once.

But right now, you’re just a wreck. Shaking, breath jagged, body slick with sweat and blood — most of it not yours. The knife hits the floor with a metallic clatter. Your legs feel like paper.

The phone in your pocket buzzes once.

A location pin.

No words.

Your hands are still trembling as you stumble out into the alley, back pressed to the cool brick wall as your knees threaten to buckle. You press your palm to the wound on your arm, but you can’t even tell if it’s deep. All you can feel is the adrenaline, burning like acid through your veins.

The car pulls up exactly two minutes later.

Sleek. Black. Expensive in the quiet, menacing kind of way.

The passenger door opens, and Felix is already waiting inside.

You hesitate. Just for a second.

Then you climb in, dragging the bloodied duffel with you. You don’t speak. You can’t.

He says nothing at first. Just watches. His gaze skims your face, your hands, the splotches on your shirt. His nostrils flare, faintly. His jaw clenches.

Then his voice comes, low and velvety.

“You did well.”

You flinch.

Well?

Is this what “well” looks like?

You open your mouth to say something — anything — but it all dies on your tongue. You feel like you're floating outside yourself, like your body isn’t quite yours. Like you're going to pass out.

Felix notices. Of course he does.

He leans in, slow and deliberate. His hand moves to your jaw— firm, and tilts your face toward him.

“You’re shaking.”

No shit. You laugh — a broken, awful sound that doesn’t feel real.

Felix hums, then shifts in his seat. The partition behind you slides up without a sound, cloaking the two of you in soft shadows.

“I told you I wanted to see what you could handle,” he murmurs. “You didn’t disappoint.”

“I almost died,” you manage to whisper.

“Mm,” he says, thumb brushing along your cheek. “But you didn’t.”

You don’t realise your hands are clenched in your lap until he notices. He undoes your seatbelt. Leans down.

“I can help,” he says softly, fingers already trailing down your thigh. “Let me.”

You’re still bloodstained. You still feel sick. But your cock betrays you — twitching in your jeans under his touch like it doesn’t care that you’re half-feral from adrenaline and trauma.

He smiles faintly. Like he expected that.

“Poor thing,” Felix says, voice thick with amusement and something deeper. “All wound up. All that fear. All that pressure.”

His hand slides over the bulge in your pants, slow and possessive. Your breath catches.

“You’re shaking so much,” he murmurs. “You need to calm down. Just relax.”

You don’t. Can’t. But your hips twitch anyway.

Felix is patient. Cruel in his gentleness. His fingers undo your jeans with practised ease, and the second he wraps his hand around your cock— warm, firm, steady— you nearly choke on a gasp. The pleasure spikes sharply and fast, edged with guilt and something darker.

You shouldn’t want this. Not now. Not here. Not after—

“Don’t think,” he says quietly. “Just feel.”

Your head hits the seat behind you. Your hands tremble uselessly in your lap as he strokes you—not fast, not slow, just right. His thumb circles the head on every upward pull, milking soft, breathless moans out of you.

“You’ve been good,” he whispers, voice like velvet steel. “Brave. I take care of what’s mine.”

You don’t know when that happened — when you became his. But it’s too late now. His hand keeps working you through it, coaxing you toward a high you didn’t ask for but can’t stop chasing. Heat pools low in your belly. Your eyes squeeze shut. You’re going to—

“Come for me,” he breathes, leaning in. “That’s it. Let go.”

And you do.

It rips out of you like a sob. Messy. Shuddering. You curl in on yourself as your body wracks with release, nerves flayed raw.

Felix doesn’t flinch at the mess. He just wipes his hand, then guides your head down to rest against his shoulder. You’re still panting, still dazed, blood drying on your clothes — and he strokes your hair like you’re something precious.

Like you're his favourite broken thing.

⋆｡°✩

You leave the bathroom light on.

Not because Nora’s scared of the dark anymore. She’s been sleeping through the night since she was three. It’s for you.

You’re the one who wakes up in cold sweats now. You’re the one who flinches at door hinges creaking and cars idling too long outside the window. You’re the one staring at the nursery monitor like something might crawl through it.

There’s no crying. Just the soft hum of static.

She’s curled up on her side, one arm flung above her head, mouth open in that completely unselfconscious way only kids manage. Her stuffed bear is trapped beneath her chest like a casualty, and you don’t dare move it. You don’t dare move anything.

You sit on the edge of your bed, clothes still crusted in spots with things you scrubbed off hours ago. You’re not sure how you’re still breathing. Or why you are.

Your hands shake. Not like before—this is quieter. Numb.

Your phone buzzes once on the nightstand. You don’t check it. You already know who it is.

You already know what he’ll say. Good work. I told you you could handle it. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or a warning.

The monitor hisses softly, then goes silent. You keep watching it anyway.

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financing007 · 2 years ago

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blackstarlineage · 2 months ago

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Limited Financial Literacy and Wealth Management in the Black Community: A Garveyite Perspective

Introduction: Economic Power as the Foundation of Black Liberation

Marcus Garvey understood that political freedom is meaningless without economic independence. He believed that for Black people to be truly free, they had to control their own economies, industries, and institutions. Garvey once stated:

“A race that is solely dependent upon another for its economic existence sooner or later dies.”

Yet, in modern times, the Black community continues to struggle with limited financial literacy, poor wealth management, and economic dependency.

Generational wealth is rarely passed down due to a lack of long-term financial planning.

Black spending power is high, yet most of this wealth flows out of Black communities into white-owned corporations.

Many Black families live paycheck to paycheck, unable to invest in land, businesses, or other wealth-building assets.

From a Garveyite perspective, this lack of financial education and economic control is one of the greatest obstacles to Black liberation. Until Black people master financial literacy and wealth management, they will remain vulnerable to exploitation and economic servitude.

1. The Historical Roots of Black Economic Disempowerment

A. The Legacy of Slavery and Economic Exclusion

During slavery, Black people were denied the right to own property, earn wages, or accumulate wealth.

After emancipation, racist policies such as Black Codes, Jim Crow laws, and sharecropping ensured that Black people remained economically oppressed.

Redlining, discriminatory banking practices, and racist housing policies prevented Black families from building generational wealth.

B. The Destruction of Black Economic Movements

Throughout history, whenever Black people built strong economic foundations, white supremacy actively sabotaged them:

Tulsa’s Black Wall Street (1921) was burned down in one of the worst race massacres in U.S. history.

Rosewood, Florida (1923) was another thriving Black community destroyed by racist mobs.

Marcus Garvey’s Black Star Line was sabotaged by the U.S. government agencies and internal betrayals, preventing Black economic self-sufficiency.

These attacks created a culture of economic fear and dependency, where many Black people stopped believing in their ability to control their own wealth.

C. The Shift Toward Consumerism Over Ownership

Instead of prioritizing land, business ownership, and self-sufficiency, many Black communities have been conditioned to focus on spending rather than investing.

Integration into white economies led to the collapse of many Black-owned businesses, as Black consumers began spending their wealth outside of their own communities.

Today, Black buying power in the U.S. exceeds $1.7 trillion, yet very little of that money stays in Black communities.

This cycle of high spending and low investment keeps Black people economically powerless.

2. The Consequences of Limited Financial Literacy in the Black Community

A. Generational Poverty & Wealth Gaps

The average Black family's wealth is significantly lower than that of white families due to a lack of inherited assets.

Many Black families do not pass down property, businesses, or financial knowledge, forcing each generation to start over.

Without financial literacy, many Black people fall into debt traps, poor credit, and unstable financial situations.

B. Economic Dependency & Vulnerability

Black people remain financially dependent on white-owned banks, businesses, and corporations.

Without economic independence, Black workers are at the mercy of racist hiring practices, wage discrimination, and economic downturns.

The lack of Black-owned financial institutions means Black wealth is constantly controlled by non-Black interests.

C. Lack of Black Business Ownership & Community Development

Only a small percentage of Black businesses receive venture capital, bank loans, or community investment.

Many Black entrepreneurs struggle to scale their businesses due to limited financial education and funding access.

Black neighborhoods often lack grocery stores, banks, and essential businesses, making them reliant on white-owned corporations.

Without strong Black financial networks, Black communities remain economically stagnant.

3. The Garveyite Solution: Financial Literacy as a Tool for Black Liberation

A. Teaching Financial Literacy from an Early Age

Black families must prioritize financial education in the home, teaching children about:

Saving and investing

Credit and debt management

Entrepreneurship and wealth-building

Schools in Black communities should incorporate mandatory financial literacy programs focused on:

Budgeting and money management

Stock market and investment strategies

Real estate and homeownership

Education is the first step toward economic empowerment.

B. Creating Black-Owned Financial Institutions

More Black-owned banks and credit unions must be established to provide financial services that cater to Black economic needs.

Black people should redirect their money into Black-owned banks and investment funds to build community wealth.

Cooperative economics should be prioritized, where Black investors pool resources to fund businesses, real estate, and development projects.

Garvey believed that Black people must control their own financial institutions to ensure true independence.

C. Prioritizing Ownership Over Consumerism

Black people must shift from being consumers to being investors and producers.

Instead of spending billions on luxury brands, Black communities must invest in land, businesses, and industries.

Black celebrities, athletes, and high-income earners should prioritize investing in Black-owned enterprises instead of white-owned corporations.

Wealth accumulation should be about long-term growth, not short-term spending.

D. Rebuilding Black Business Districts & Economic Hubs

Black communities must establish modern "Black Wall Streets" that focus on:

Black-owned banks and financial institutions.

Black manufacturing and production centres.

Pan-African trade networks.

Government policies should be challenged to allocate reparations, land grants, and business funding to Black entrepreneurs.

Economic self-reliance must be a core principle of Black liberation.

4. Action Plan: Steps to Financial Empowerment in the Black Community

A. Individual & Family-Level Actions

Open accounts with Black-owned banks and investment firms.

Teach children about saving, investing, and business ownership from an early age.

Prioritize homeownership and land acquisition over renting and temporary wealth.

B. Community-Level Actions

Establish financial literacy workshops in Black schools, churches, and community centres.

Support Black entrepreneurs and Black-owned businesses by intentionally spending within the community.

Form investment groups and cooperative businesses to pool resources and fund economic initiatives.

C. Global Black Economic Collaboration

African nations and the Black diaspora must create international trade agreements that empower Black businesses.

Encourage Pan-African banking and investment partnerships between Africa, the Caribbean, and Black America.

Develop Black-led multinational corporations that can compete with global industries.

Garvey envisioned a self-sustaining Black economy that connected Africa and the diaspora—this vision must be revived.

Conclusion: Black Liberation Requires Economic Independence

Garvey warned that:

"A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin, and culture is like a tree without roots." But financial illiteracy is like a tree without soil—without economic power, Black liberation is impossible.

If Black people continue to:

Spend instead of invest,

Finance non-Black businesses instead of building their own,

Ignore financial literacy instead of mastering wealth management,

They will remain economically enslaved.

However, if Black people:

Prioritize financial education and generational wealth,

Invest in Black-owned banks, businesses, and industries,

Build economic self-sufficiency through Pan-African cooperation,

Then true Black liberation can be achieved.

Garvey’s call remains: “Up, you mighty race, accomplish what you will!”

#black history #black people #blacktumblr #black tumblr #pan africanism #black #black conscious #africa #black power #black empowering #blog #BlackWallStreetRevival #FinancialFreedom #buy black #BlackWealth #EconomicLiberation #Garveyism #marcus garvey

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leia-writes · 6 months ago

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Wild Heart

hwang in-ho | front man x female reader

Chapter 1: Mortal Once Again

summary - The Front Man infiltrates the games to change Gi-hun's mind, but after meeting you, things don't go according to plan.

warnings - violence, angst

THIS SERIES IS 18+ ONLY

chapter list

read on ao3

A gust of harsh, cold wind battered against your face as you exited the subway. The sun had just set, leaving a chill in the air that went straight to your bones, despite the sting of a bruise forming on your cheek and the slight glaze of sweat still on your face. Your brow furrowed as you walked home, clutching to the bundle of money in your pocket for dear life.

No one could’ve guessed what you’d just done, nor would they have believed you if you told them. After receiving life-shattering news at the hospital, you’d encountered a well-dressed man in the subway who offered to pay you just to play ddakji. You would’ve ignored him had he not shown you the briefcase of actual money… or if you hadn’t been so desperate.

Before meeting the man in the subway, you’d just learned that your sister was struck by a vehicle earlier that day on her way to school. Although she was lucky to be alive, she’d suffered many injuries and you were unsure what the future held for her. She would need multiple, extensive surgeries, and even then it wasn’t a guarantee if she would survive or not. You had left that night to gather some things in your small, shared home to bring back to the hospital.

Your sister was your entire world - losing your parents at a young age made it so that you only had each other. You’d been raised by various family members throughout your childhood but never had a truly stable home. Once you were old enough, you rented out a small apartment for the two of you while she finished school. You did everything you could, often working multiple jobs, to even attempt to provide a life where the two of you could be happy even if you were poor.

But now with her accident, you had to worry not only about your sister’s life but also the cost associated with her care. It broke your heart to even have to think that way, but you couldn’t stop your mind from rushing to the worst possible scenarios. Would you need to take out a loan that you couldn’t even pay back? What if they refused care because you couldn’t afford it in the first place?

You were used to handling things on your own without the guidance your parents would’ve given you, but this was too overwhelming. You felt stuck and afraid and vulnerable. And when that man offered you money for a simple little game, you couldn’t say no.

~~~

You’d barely slept in the waiting room that night, anxious for any news about your sister after being in surgery. The light brown business card given by the man in the subway seemed to burn a hole in your pocket. You considered his invitation - if slapping you was the worst that could happen, you were pretty certain you’d take him up on his offer.

The doctors finally approached you in the waiting room, interrupting your thoughts. Once they gave you the news, you thought you could physically feel your heart breaking into pieces. It took everything in you not to break down right then.

They’d told you your sister survived, but had suffered severe brain and spinal damage, and would never live the same again. It was hard to determine now whether or not she’d be able to even speak or walk. They reassured you that they would do their best in the coming days, but plans for permanent long-term care needed to be arranged.

The doctors left you to your raging thoughts. How could she live with you when your apartment required walking up 3 flights of stairs and was barely big enough to turn around in? How could she live a normal life like she wanted when she might not even be able to talk to or understand people? You could barely afford to live your normal life now… how could you afford the proper care she needed and deserved to live even somewhat well in her condition?

Your mind was finally set. You called the number on the back of the business card, and got yourself ready for pickup that night.

~~~

Hwang In-ho sat in his comfortable leather chair, leisurely scrolling on his tablet. Tonight would be the beginning of this year’s round of games, and he was watching updates on which players agreed to participate. Of course, he already knew of one: Seong Gi-hun.

In-ho had to admit he was a bit surprised at just how far Gi-hun was willing to go to find him and end the games. But no matter what Gi-hun did, he was always two steps ahead of him. That’s something he hadn’t fully figured out yet. The tracker, the boat captain, Jun-ho… he had no clue just how far In-ho could take this.

As he studied the new players, he paused at one picture. A younger woman with a strangely familiar face. He scrolled through the corresponding information, seeing your name, address, place of work… and your family.

His stomach sank. He knew you.

As a child, you spent a lot of time with your grandparents, who mostly raised you before they got too old. Your family was very close with another neighboring family and everyone quickly became close family friends. Unfortunately, when your grandparents were unable to take care of you any longer, you had moved away and never spoken to them very much again.

You and your sister had become close with two boys around the same age as you two, Jun-ho and In-ho. In-ho was a little older than Jun-ho and didn’t spend a lot of time with the rest of you, but you still had fond memories with him. After moving away and growing up, you didn’t really talk to them anymore, only hearing about major events through other family members. You heard about his wife passing away and how he had basically gone missing but hadn’t thought much of it since.

Since that time, In-ho hadn’t thought much about you either until seeing your face on his screen. What could have possibly happened to you to bring you to a place like this? He curiously browsed your files, puzzling together a picture of the life you had lived since you knew him.

It was strange seeing someone he knew here, which had never happened before. But he knew many players before who had come here to pay for medical care - something he related to all too well. When those situations presented themselves, it evoked a strange feeling from the furthest corner of his heart, something he hadn’t let himself feel for a very long time.

He wasn’t allowed to play favorites, but he decided he would keep a watchful eye on you and silently hope for you to win.

~~~

You woke up to the sound of classical music, opening your eyes to a large room full of beds. Everyone was dressed in green track suits assigned with a number. Yours was 132. As you descended the stairs to the floor, you saw how many people were gathered around, looking just as disoriented as you felt.

You felt tensions rise among the group once the strangely masked pink guards arrived and explained the premise of the games to you. It frightened you a bit to know they gassed you and changed your clothes, just to play games. But once the prize money was revealed, the mood shifted seriously. And you knew you’d do just about anything to get that money.

In-ho watched you from his leather chair, now on the big screen in front of him, as you went from the player room, to the photo booth, to the large open field to play Red Light, Green Light. He hoped you had enough sense to stay still once bullets started flying.

He was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by Gi-hun running in front of everyone and yelling at them, which initially amused him. He saw the looks on everyone’s faces, thinking he was just some crazy person. Even his own friend was doubtful. No matter how hard Gi-hun tried, the only way they would learn is seeing it happen to someone else.

Once people started getting shot, he kept his screen focused on you. He saw you uncontrollably shaking, hoping it wasn’t enough to set off the motion sensors. When it was clear you were staying still as everyone around you ran to the doors, he couldn’t deny the wave of relief he felt.

You felt like you were holding your breath for hours before you finally willed yourself to move forward. When the weird man started yelling at everyone about how they were going to die if they lost the game, you wanted badly to not believe him. But with the circumstances you were in, and the suspicious way this was all happening, it felt like nothing was beyond the realm of possibility. As everyone around you scurried to the doors, you couldn’t help but tremble, and it took everything in your power to ignore your instincts and run away.

You made it over the finish line just in time, collapsing to the ground in sick relief as your muscles ached with dread. The roof began to close above you, and the warmth of the sun became a memory. You couldn’t help yourself from silently crying. Your tears mixed with the specks of blood on your face of people who had died right in front of you, staining your hands as you wiped them away.

In-ho felt tremendous relief the moment you crossed the finish line, but something strange tugged at his heart when he saw you cry, something like pity. This wasn’t a place for someone like you.

He scoffed at himself. It wasn’t the first time someone in your situation had joined the games, so why bother feeling any worse for you? Just because he knew you didn’t mean you deserved to win any more than the others.

Or so he tried to convince himself. Once he saw Gi-hun gaining the trust of more players, he saw the perfect opportunity to step in. And before he could even realize it was happening, his devotion to fairness and equality was slowly giving way to a quiet, unfamiliar feeling.

~~~

Your mind was racing as the vote began. Everyone had to decide now whether to continue the games or leave with the remaining money, which you knew would barely cover anything close to what you needed for your sister. The implications of everything overwhelmed your mind. You needed to stay alive for your sister, but you also desperately needed that money for her. What good could you be anyways if you didn’t have the means to help her?

Your mind was made once the man yelling at everyone revealed he played the games before. If he made it out, then he could help you win too. You didn’t want to confront what that meant, that other people would die for your money. But in comparison it felt like a small price to pay for your sister’s life.

When you walked to the voting station, you quickly pressed the blue circle, taking your matching patch with you and going to the back of the crowd. As you walked back, you noticed another player waiting to vote, giving you an intense look. It almost made you stop walking. You felt as if you had locked eyes for minutes, but in the next moment he looked away and continued waiting.

A chill went down your spine as you joined the crowd. He looked so familiar to you, but you just couldn’t place it, and it made you feel unsettled. Clearly you had to have known him for his stare to affect you so much. You slowly turned back around to get another look, and noticed he was staring at you again, but this time immediately looked away as if he was caught.

That was strange.

Player 001. You decided you’d keep a watchful eye on him going forward.

~~~

In-ho internally chastised himself for getting caught staring at you. He had finally gotten in your view after you voted, but he could immediately tell by your reaction that you had no clue who he was. Although a small part of him wished he was memorable enough, not knowing his name meant he could carry out his plans with Gi-hun.

The voting had come down to the final player. In-ho felt everyone’s eyes on him as he walked forward and pressed the blue circle. When he turned to join the group, he snuck another glance at you. Fear was etched all over your face. You were too lost in worry to notice him.

After waiting in line for your meal, you walked over to Gi-hun, who was sitting next to someone else. You quietly approached them, giving an apprehensive look. He noticed the blue patch on your jacket as you spoke up.

“Can I sit with you?”

They both looked at you with blank faces for a moment. Gi-hun was clearly distraught but attempted to be polite. “Sure.”

Gi-hun stayed silent as you sat down next to him. His friend, who you learned was named Jung-bae, tried convincing him to eat. You sat and ate quietly as they spoke, before being interrupted by Player 001.

“Help us then, sir.”

You looked up to see him standing before the three of you, a group of people forming behind him.

“You said you’ve played these games. I pressed the O button because of you. Honestly, I was scared. I wanted to quit and leave. But you made me think I could play just one more game.”

The three of you stared in astonishment as the others behind him agreed. As Gi-hun explained what the next round would be, you watched the dynamic between all of the players unfold. People starting to form groups, take sides, operate with their own best interests in mind. You briefly wondered if you were truly cut out for the brutality this game might require of you. The thought of it disturbed you, so you quickly pushed it to the back of your mind.

The rest of the players dispersed, except for Player 001. He sat next to Jung-bae, intensely curious about what Gi-hun was thinking. You let yourself dissociate from the conversation. Although you wanted to know more about Player 001, you weren’t in the mood to strike up a conversation. As you were paying attention to your food, something Gi-hun said brought you back to reality.

“If you had pressed the X, everyone in here would’ve made it out alive.”

You looked up at Gi-hun, immediately taking offense without really understanding why. Player 001 glanced at you for a moment before responding.

“That’s right. I was the last to press the O button. But there were 182 more people who wanted to stay.”

He looked directly at you, and the blue patch on your jacket, as the other two slowly turned to you as well. Suddenly you felt exposed, too timid to say anything to stand up for yourself.

Gi-hun turned back to the other man. “And there were also 182 people who wanted to leave.”

Player 001 scoffed. “Let’s say… I pressed X and we all left. Would everyone have been happy? Do you think if they ran into me later they’d thank me for saving their lives and telling me they’re happy now?”

He looked at you and continued. “You voted to stay here too. If I had pressed the X, what would you have done?”

The three of them looked at you now as you swallowed your food. Frantically looking at each of them, you whispered, “I… I don’t know… my sister, and I, um…”

Jung-bae stepped in to break the tension. “All right, there’s no point in placing blame now.”

You sat quietly with the groups and tensions lessened, and saw your little group form right before you as Dae-ho and Jung-bae immediately bonded. Before you could get too comfortable, a fight broke out in the middle of the room - but Player 001 quickly intervened.

You watched as he effortlessly took down the two younger men going after him, almost choking one to death before letting him go. The entire display frightened you, yet you didn’t feel afraid of him - somewhere deep down you still had that familiar feeling with him.

You tried your best to ignore it. Trusting anyone was going to be a high risk decision for your survival, so you hoped he would at least just help your group survive the upcoming games. If you could survive just one or two more, you’d be satisfied.

~~~

That night, you tossed and turned in your bed, too anxious to fall asleep. As your thoughts raced, you heard Player 001 approach Gi-hun, who was also awake.

You listened as Player 001 apologized to Gi-hun, and explained his reason for joining the games. His wife was afflicted with cancer, and needed many surgeries and treatments, and in his attempt to accept help he was accused of taking a bribe.

Something in the back of your mind stirred, curiosity building in your mind. His situation sounded so familiar to you, but you couldn’t place it. You wanted to speak up and ask him more but felt it was impolite.

You sighed, tucking your blanket in your arms, wondering why he felt so familiar to you and why it troubled you so much. He was undoubtedly attractive to you, but you thought you’d be better than getting distracted by a handsome face in this sort of situation. It had been so long since you let yourself feel something good, let yourself focus on something other than the depressing parts of your life.

You decided to blame your fascination with him on pent up sexual frustration and thought nothing else of it that night.

#squid game #fanfiction #squid game fanfic #hwang inho #hwang in ho #hwang in-ho #front man #frontman #front man x reader #frontman x reader #hwang inho x reader #hwang in-ho x reader #hwang in ho x reader #reader insert

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robertreich · 1 year ago

Video

youtube

The Truth About Trumponomics

Trump and Republicans want to wreck your bank account. Here are 5 things you need to know about Trumponomics.

1.Trump wants tax cuts for the rich, at your expense.

Trump’s tax cuts for the rich and big corporations added about $1.7 trillion to the national debt, with few benefits trickling down to the middle class — in fact, it raised taxes for more than 10 million American families.

Now Trump and Republicans want to make the tax cuts for the rich permanent, blowing up the debt even further. And then they’ll use that debt to justify this:

2. Trump would cut Social Security and Medicare — programs you’ve been paying into!

In every year of his presidency, Trump submitted a budget that tried to cut Social Security and Medicare. And he knows that’s the only way he can even begin to pay for extending his tax cuts for the rich.

3. Trump and his allies are pro-junk fee.

When the Biden administration issued a rule capping credit card late fees at $8, Sen. Tim Scott, a Trump surrogate, tried to overturn it in the Senate. And then a Trump-appointed judge issued a temporary injunction that blocked the rule from taking effect. Eliminating that rule would cost American families an estimated $10 billion a year.

And when the Biden administration required airlines to issue automatic refunds for canceled flights, Trump’s allies in Congress fought to block that too.

When Trump was in office, his administration fought against efforts to rein in airline junk fees.

Corporations nickel and diming us like this makes inflation worse. If Trump gets back in the White House, buckle up for more junk fees.

4. Trump would send health care costs soaring.

Republicans have committed to repealing the Inflation Reduction Act, which would strip Medicare of the ability to negotiate drug prices, and let Big Pharma send the price of insulin and other life-saving medicines back through the roof.

And Trump is still fixated on repealing Obamacare, with no plan to replace it.

TRUMP: Obamacare is a disaster. We’re gonna do something about it.

That would strip coverage from tens of millions of Americans, drive up premiums, and let insurers charge more or deny coverage to people with preexisting conditions.

5, If you’ve got student debt, you’re out of luck with Trump.

In contrast to President Biden, who’s canceled more than $160 billion of student debt so far, Trump is against student debt relief. In his first term, he tried to eliminate the popular Public Service Loan Forgiveness program for people like teachers and nurses, and he’s called the idea of debt relief “unfair.”

What’s unfair, is how student debt hurts not just the roughly 40 million Americans burdened by it, but the entire economy, since Americans with debt have less money to spend, are less likely to start a business, less likely to buy a home, and more likely to rely on government assistance.

The MAGA agenda would make nearly every aspect of your life more expensive, while making the richest Americans even richer.

Teddy Roosevelt’s economic plan was called the Square Deal. Franklin Roosevelt’s was the New Deal.

What Trump is offering is simply a Raw Deal.

#youtube #economics #Trump #Biden #politics #video #videos

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fincrif · 5 months ago

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What Are the Risks of Taking a Personal Loan from Unauthorized Lenders?

In an era where financial services are just a few clicks away, many individuals turn to online lenders for personal loans due to their convenience and quick approval process. However, with the rise of digital lending platforms, there has also been an increase in unauthorized or unregulated lenders who prey on vulnerable borrowers. While taking a personal loan from unauthorized lenders might seem like a fast and easy solution to immediate financial needs, it comes with significant risks.

In this article, we will explore the potential dangers of borrowing from unauthorized lenders, how to identify them, and why it’s essential to be cautious when applying for a personal loan.

1. What Are Unauthorized Lenders?

Unauthorized lenders are financial institutions or individuals who are not registered or regulated by relevant financial authorities or government agencies. In many countries, lending institutions are required to be licensed and adhere to certain regulations to ensure they operate legally and ethically. Unauthorized lenders, however, often operate outside of these legal frameworks, leaving borrowers vulnerable to unfair practices and financial harm.

These lenders may present themselves as legitimate financial institutions, often marketing attractive loan offers with low-interest rates and easy approval processes. However, their lack of regulation makes it impossible to protect consumers from potential fraud or exploitation.

2. High-Interest Rates and Unclear Terms

One of the most common risks when borrowing from unauthorized lenders is the potential for exorbitantly high interest rates. Since unauthorized lenders are not bound by the same regulations as licensed lenders, they are free to charge excessively high-interest rates, far beyond what is legally allowed in many jurisdictions. These rates can lead to a much higher total repayment amount, putting borrowers in a position where they struggle to repay their loan on time.

Additionally, unauthorized lenders often don’t provide clear, transparent loan terms. They may not disclose hidden fees, penalties for late payments, or other charges, which can catch borrowers off guard. This lack of transparency can lead to unexpected financial burdens, making it even more difficult to get out of debt.

3. Fraud and Scams

Unauthorized lenders may engage in fraudulent activities, posing serious risks to your financial well-being. Some of these lenders may:

Collect personal information for identity theft: They may request unnecessary personal details, such as your Social Security number, bank account information, and employment history, with the intent to steal your identity or access your accounts.

Charge upfront fees: Scammers often ask for upfront fees for processing the loan application, only to disappear once the payment is made. These fees are typically non-refundable, and the promised loan may never materialize.

Provide fake loan offers: In some cases, unauthorized lenders create fake loan agreements with no intention of actually lending you money. Instead, their goal is to collect your personal information and make unauthorized charges to your accounts.

If you suspect that the lender you are dealing with is not legitimate, it’s crucial to stop communication and report the incident to the appropriate authorities immediately.

4. Lack of Consumer Protection

One of the primary reasons to avoid borrowing from unauthorized lenders is the absence of consumer protection. Authorized lenders must comply with strict regulations designed to protect borrowers from unfair practices, such as predatory lending, and must adhere to responsible lending practices. These regulations also ensure that lenders provide accurate and clear information about loan terms and fees.

Unauthorized lenders, however, are not subject to these regulations. This means they can engage in unethical practices like changing loan terms without notice, increasing interest rates after the loan has been approved, or even harassing borrowers who struggle to repay their loans. Without the support of a regulatory body, borrowers have little recourse in case of dispute or unethical treatment.

5. No Credit Reporting or Impact on Credit Score

Many legitimate lenders report your payment history to credit bureaus, which can impact your credit score. When you borrow from an authorized lender and repay your loan on time, it can have a positive effect on your credit score, helping you qualify for better loans in the future.

However, unauthorized lenders typically do not report loan payments to credit bureaus, meaning there is no opportunity to improve your credit score by repaying the loan responsibly. In some cases, they may even engage in fraudulent reporting, negatively impacting your credit score without your knowledge or consent.

6. Possibility of Debt Traps

One of the most significant risks of borrowing from unauthorized lenders is the potential for falling into a debt trap. Due to their high interest rates and lack of transparency, these lenders often create an environment where borrowers are unable to repay their loans on time. As a result, borrowers may be forced to take out additional loans to cover the outstanding debt, leading to a cycle of borrowing and increasing debt.

In many cases, unauthorized lenders may encourage borrowers to roll over or refinance loans with even worse terms, trapping them in an ongoing cycle of debt. This debt trap can have long-term financial consequences, making it increasingly difficult to get out of debt and regain financial stability.

7. Threat of Legal Action or Harassment

Unauthorized lenders may use illegal or aggressive tactics to recover the money they’ve lent. They often resort to harassment, including constant phone calls, emails, and even threats of legal action, which can cause significant emotional and psychological distress.

In some cases, these lenders may falsely claim that you owe more than you actually do or attempt to intimidate you into paying the loan under threat of legal consequences. Because they operate outside of the law, unauthorized lenders are not held accountable for their actions, leaving borrowers without proper legal protection.

8. Limited Borrower Support and Resources

When borrowing from authorized lenders, you have access to various support services, such as customer service representatives who can help you with questions about your loan, repayment options, and loan modifications. These lenders also offer resources to help you understand the terms of your loan and assist you if you face financial difficulties.

On the other hand, unauthorized lenders typically offer little to no support. If you encounter any issues with your loan or need to discuss your repayment plan, you may be unable to reach a representative or receive any assistance. The lack of borrower support can make it even harder to resolve problems and may leave you in a vulnerable position.

9. How to Protect Yourself When Applying for a Personal Loan

To avoid the risks of unauthorized lenders, it’s crucial to take the following steps when applying for a personal loan:

Verify the lender’s credentials: Ensure the lender is properly licensed and regulated by financial authorities in your country or region. Look for trusted platforms or lenders with positive customer reviews.

Research the loan terms: Understand the full terms of the loan, including the interest rate, repayment schedule, fees, and any other charges. Avoid lenders that aren’t transparent about their terms.

Beware of unsolicited offers: Be cautious when you receive unsolicited loan offers via email, phone calls, or text messages. Legitimate lenders don’t typically offer loans without first assessing your financial situation.

Avoid lenders who ask for upfront fees: Legitimate lenders will not require you to pay fees before receiving your loan. Any lender requesting upfront payments should raise red flags.

Read the fine print: Always read the loan agreement carefully before signing. Pay close attention to interest rates, fees, and the lender’s repayment policies.

10. Conclusion

While the appeal of fast and easy access to funds may be tempting, borrowing from unauthorized lenders comes with significant risks that can severely impact your financial health. From high-interest rates to fraud and scams, these lenders operate outside of the protection provided by regulatory bodies, leaving borrowers vulnerable to exploitative practices.

To avoid these risks, it’s essential to only borrow from authorized, reputable lenders who offer transparent loan terms, support services, and consumer protections. By taking the time to verify the legitimacy of a lender and carefully reviewing loan terms, you can protect your personal information and ensure that borrowing money doesn’t lead to financial hardship.

Remember, your financial security and peace of mind are worth far more than a quick loan from an unauthorized source.

0 notes

stinkyturd · 11 months ago

Text

Your Fragrance

Pairing: Romeo Lucci/Reader

Comments: It's Romeo, so it's gonna be a little possessive and weird. If that makes you uncomfortable, this probably isn't your cup of tea. Also, I absolutely hate naming throwaway characters, but I did here to avoid confusion, haha. So, if for some reason you're second guessing if you're misremembering a canon side character, you're not. 🙂‍↕️

Working for Romeo could be exhausting.

The Sinostra vice-captain always had something for you. Be it helping out with casino security, sending out reminders for outstanding loans, or doing menial errands like fetching him various products he may need to keep his skin hydrated or his hair in mint condition. Sometimes he'd even message you at ungodly hours when you were tucked away, seconds from slumbering at your cathedral.

Overall, you didn't mind. It's not like you HAD to do it. Darkwick hadn't been quite as needy with sending you out on inspector related errands, so you had the time, and you didn't mind Romeo's company. Sure, his personality is completely abrasive and an acquired taste, but underneath it all he had some redeeming qualities. And for some reason he chose you to hire as an assistant. You didn't get paid much. In fact, it was lower than minimum wage. You're pretty sure you could get a part-time job around the campus that would be far more fruitful with less work.

And now that you were on consistent speaking terms, it was a lot easier to find ways to get under his skin. It was kind of fun pushing him to that level of irritation just before it all boils over. Oddly enough, a scrunched up scowl really highlighted his devastatingly pretty features. You're not sure you've seen anything quite like it on anyone else before.

Right now, you are sitting next to him on the massive sectional sofa in the VIP room, listening to him rant about trivial anecdotes while you check his email for him.

"I don't want to deal with these degenerates speaking to me any longer!" Romeo huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You need to establish a precedent in this place that no one should talk to me without pre-approved incentive!"

Your eyes remain locked on the laptop in front of you as you attempt to read over a document sent to you by one of the vice-captain's subordinates, while still acknowledging Romeo's ramblings. "I can give it a shot. What happened this time?"

"A fool from Frostheim came in this morning. That USP told me that the new cashmere divan I purchased for the lobby is tacky! What the fuck does he know about quality luxury...?! That buffoon probably washes his face with hand soap, if he does at all!"

You smirk a little at that, clumsily scrolling the page in front of you with just a trackpad. "Is he a regular?"

"Yes, it's that idiot that always sits at the table by the high limit slots! The one with those shitty, thick-framed, square glasses!" Romeo leans back into the sofa, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh...?" Your lips tug into a mischievous smirk. "I think I remember that guy. Dark hair, super clear skin? Has good taste in cologne?" The student he's referring to does actually have dark hair. You remember because it's not the first time Romeo has complained about him. The rest of the description you gave is entirely fabricated.

You catch a glimpse of the vice-captain's reaction in your peripheral vision. If looks could kill.

Romeo narrows his fuchsia eyes at you. "Have you lost your mind?! Clear skin?" The vice-captain leans in close, jabbing a gloved finger to his face. "This! This is clear skin!"

"Oh, for real?" You don't look up as you suppress a shit-eating grin, tapping away at the keyboard in front of you.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, nitwit! I can't have my BB of an assistant prancing around thinking that some Frostheim pig's face even compares to mine!" Romeo removes the laptop from your lap, setting it on the low-profile table in front of you.

You flick your gaze over to his face that's less than a foot from yours. Placing a hand on your chin, you pretend to examine his skin. "Hmm... really? I don't see the difference."

You did. No one's skin glows as much as the man in front of you.

Romeo clenches his jaw so tightly you're almost concerned he's going to grind down his perfect teeth. "You don't see the difference...?! Perhaps we should get your eyes checked! And you're supposed to be the one surveying the EITS?!"

"But you agree his cologne is pretty solid?" Your lips twitch as the vice-captain's face comically becomes more animated with each snarky comment you make.

"That fool may as well be rolling around with a wet dog! Whatever bootleg fragrance he wears does not match his pH! How far away were you from that imbecile to draw that conclusion?!" Romeo shouts indignantly.

You're no longer able to keep up the act, your lips peeling into a full on grin as a giggle escapes you.

This only seems to irritate Romeo further. "And what's so funny?!"

"I was only teasing you. I've never been close enough to smell him. Definitely not close enough to see his pores."

"Y-You...!" Romeo's face flushes in a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. "For what purpose, fool?!"

"You look cute when you're all mad," You say like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Sorry, Boss. You make it too easy."

"Do you know how much my collagen cream costs? If you expedite the rate in which I obtain wrinkles, you will be my servant until the day you die to pay me back!" Romeo growls.

"How scary," You tease, tearing your gaze from the man shouting at such close proximity. If he stays like that any longer while you face him, you may actually start blushing. Reaching forward, you set the portable computer back in your lap.

"Fucking right, it's scary! I'll make sure your income is so low that you'll be taking residence in my private office," Romeo huffs, finally sitting back as he was before.

You snort. "Are you going to make me stay in my underwear too, like you did with Kaito?"

"You'll be lucky if you are even granted that amount of decency," Romeo spats.

Heat crawls up your neck at the implication.

"...Wow. Pervert." You're barely able to say it without your voice nervously cracking.

"Tch...! Don't flatter yourself," Romeo counters. A vibration, followed by a ringing sound emanates from his dress pants. The vice-captain stands, pulling his cell phone out. Before he answers it, he shoots you a glare. "You're in need of some serious TLC in order for that to be any concern of yours."

"Oh? That's okay, you're not my type anyway," You lie, as you return your attention to the email in front of you.

"Excuse me...?!" Romeo flits his furious gaze from you then back to the phone. "This conversation isn't over! Just you wait…!" The Sinostra vice-captain drags a finger across his phone's screen, then brings it to his ear. As if the caller on the other end is physically present, Romeo relaxes his face with his tone before replying. "Hello...? Right, when…?"

The vice-captain paces around the room mumbling vague replies to the mystery receiver. After a minute or so, he hangs up and stalks back in your direction.

You pretend you don't notice him as you continue working, anticipating verbal outlash. Instead, you feel a weight sit alarmingly close to your side. Your hand stills on the track pad in front of you when Romeo wraps an arm around your backside.

"(Y/N)~" The vice-captain speaks so close to your ear that involuntary chills run up your spine.

You weren't that startled by the gesture. Romeo did this occasionally when he wanted something. Trying to act all sultry to fluster you to the point of accepting his request. That was further confirmed by the rare use of your actual name rather than an acronym disguising an insult.

Usually, you would do whatever he wanted anyway as long as it wasn't too out of your comfort zone. Any time that you'd decline he'd have a fit about it and ignore you for a while after.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to ask me to do something ridiculous?" You ask with a sigh.

"Oh, it's nothing too crazy. But do you think you could get a permit and make a delivery for me outside campus, pretty girl? I know you have enough rapport with the Chancellor to do it by now," Romeo drawls, tucking stray hairs behind your ear.

"What are you trying to get me to deliver? And where?" You ask, flicking your gaze to his suspiciously.

"It's not important, I will give you the address. All you have to do is drop it off in a mailbox. It's not too far from the station," Romeo explains coolly, his minty breath tickling your nose.

"Hmm..." You hum contemplatively, turning your head back to the laptop. "I dunno... sounds kinda sus. I don't want to lose my honor student privileges, you know?"

"...There is nothing sus about it! And you won't. Just say you want to make a delivery to a friend." The demanding impatience in Romeo's tone is already starting to rear its head as you continue to question him.

"I dunno. What's in it for me?" You persist nonchalantly.

"Continued employment and my approval, obviously! What more could you want?" Romeo argues.

You weren't stupid. He was probably fully intending on sending you off with illegal substances. It would be easy to do it and not get caught, but it's not like you were gung-ho about making runs like that. And it's not like Romeo could do it himself with Sinostra's suspension. What could you request in return that he would be deterred from ever asking you again?

"I might consider it if you do something for me," You reply as another impish grin threatens to peel back.

Romeo clicks his tongue impatiently. "Asking me for favors now? What could you possibly want?"

"Kiss me," You request, making a point to sound as deadpan as possible.

The room becomes uncannily still for several moments once the words fall from your mouth.

You smirk, taking your time before you look back at Romeo to assess the damage. The Sinostra vice-captain is boring a hole through you with his eyebrows furrowed. You watch his smooth lips part marginally, as if something is just on the tip of his tongue.

It's almost hilarious. The way that he just came onto you with the intention of coaxing you to do his bidding, but when the tables are turned he's at a loss for words. You let out a short laugh, deeming this to be your victory as you refocus your attention on the laptop in front of you yet again. "Looks like my hands are tied, Vice-Captain. Maybe you can blackmail Kaito into doing it."

Romeo clicks his tongue in annoyance. "Imbecile, did I say no?"

Well, you can't say you were expecting that.

You laugh awkwardly, looking at him like he just lost his mind. "What, you're going to agree just like that?"

Romeo nods. "If you wash your face and do a proper skin care routine beforehand. And make sure your mouth is entirely scrubbed clean, if I taste anything foul on your lips, so help me god...!"

"Woah, woah, woah...! I didn't say anything about the lips," You reply, your voice slightly panicked. "Also, you gotta kiss my face as is. It's part of the stipulation. And I haven't washed it in, like, five days. I probably got blackheads galore. You seriously wanna go through with that?"

You had washed your face and put on products previously recommended to you by Romeo this morning. The more affordable ones, anyway. Not that he needed to know that.

Romeo squints his eyes as he closes in on you, stopping just inches from your face. "You're lying. Why? I don't have time for these games."

How did he immediately call on your bluff?

When you struggle to formulate an excuse, Romeo leans forward, cupping his gloved hand on your chin. You don't have time to react before he presses his plush lips against your cheek. The vice-captain stays that way for a second too long, the kiss past the point of being chaste. When Romeo pulls back, he's quirking a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you.

"I'd recognize that scent anywhere. Did you put on Tatcha cream this morning?"

You can feel heat gather at the apples of your cheeks as you gawk at him wordlessly.

"I suppose you're not entirely hopeless after all." Romeo smirks approvingly as he gives you the backhanded compliment.

"Shit," You mutter, sighing in defeat.

"Looks like you will be my delivery girl. Don't fuck it up, BB," Romeo says derisively, before getting to his feet and walking off to retrieve the parcel.

Days pass after you begrudgingly follow through with the delivery without anything particularly eventful happening. Currently, you're seated at a bench in the courtyard just outside of campus helping Kaito prepare for an upcoming test in a class you both had. Your phone has been vibrating in your pocket for a hot minute, but you're so determined with focusing on helping Kaito, you ignore it for the time being.

"Jesus effing Christ! I don't get this shit at all, I'm totally gonna bomb this," Kaito whines. The Frostheim student has his fingers wound in his hair as if he's ready to yank it out in clumps.

"If you hold that attitude the entire time, you just might. A lot of this test is going to be memorization. If anything, I can whip up some flash cards really quick for you," You offer, shooting him a sympathetic glance.

"Hah... y-you'd really do that? You're seriously an angel." Kaito's voice cracks and he dramatically begins to sprout tears from the corners of his eyes.

"Pffft, it's nothing. If anything, I still owe you for helping me out so much when I first got here." You pull out a stack of blank index cards from your messenger bag and peer over at the highlighted material in the notepad settled in Kaito's lap.

Picking up a pen, you begin scribbling the most important bits on the cards that you presume will be on the test. It takes you around ten minutes, but when you finish you hand the stack over to the Frostheim student.

"Just study it before bed for at least twenty minutes every night until the exam. That's what I always do when I don't retain enough," You remark with a reassuring smile. "Easy peasy."

"T-Thanks so much, (Y/N)." Kaito looks at you with a melting expression, his lower lip puckered into a pout. "I'll get a permit and take you out to my favorite ramen place if I pass this thing, for real."

"Oh? I'll hold you to that," You quip, smirking at him.

Kaito holds out his pinky, nodding fervently. "Pinky swear! It'll be super fun."

You latch your own finger with his. "I bet. I've been craving those marinated eggs lately. It's like you read my mind. Maybe we could bring Lucas, too?"

"Uh... m-maybe. Or it could be..." Kaito giggles nervously, scratching his blonde mop. "Like a d-d-date...?"

"A date...?" You tilt your head, eyeing your friend curiously.

Before Kaito can present his case, a black gloved hand swats his out of yours in the blink of an eye.

"A date?! Don't make me laugh, leech! If you don't pay EPB you will be lucky to be still breathing come the day of your exams!"

"GYAAAAH...!" Kaito stumbles back from his seat, landing butt first on the stone ground. "W-What the hell are y-you doing here...?! And how long were you listening?!"

Romeo places a hand on his lip, glowering at Kaito with disdain. "Long enough." The vice-captain briskly snaps his head in your direction. "And just how long did you think you would continue getting away with ignoring me, BB? While fraternizing with this fool who owes me money? You want to take permanent residence in my private office that badly?"

You blink at Romeo owlishly. "Huh? Ignoring you? Since when?" Then it dawns on you. Your phone was vibrating in your pocket like crazy earlier.

"Don't play dumb! I know your phone is on you!" Romeo yells, jabbing an accusing finger in your direction.

You snort at that. "How do you know that? Maybe I left it at my dorm."

"Are you so daft that you think I'd let my assistant frolic around OTG?"

You avert your gaze upwards, pondering what the acronym could possibly mean. "...Alright, you lost me. OTG?"

"Off. The. Grid...!" Romeo retorts, enunciating each word with biting emphasis.

You stare at his sour face blankly for a few seconds as you belatedly digest the implication. Scratching your cheek, you quirk an eyebrow at him. "Don't tell me you're tracking me, Boss?"

"Of course I am!" Romeo admits shamelessly. "And don't even think about finding the application and removing it! I made sure that your access is restricted from such tampering!"

You sigh, not particularly perturbed or surprised by the revelation. "You're a real weirdo, you know that? If this were a legitimate job with human resources I could totally report you if I wanted."

"S-Since when did you start working for this nut job?!" Kaito asks, now scrambling to his feet. "Jesus Christ, just work at the campus!"

Romeo glares daggers at the blonde. "Unless you'd like to spend the night being hung up by your toes, I suggest you make yourself scarce! And I expect a money order by 12pm sharp tomorrow, or I will be making an appearance at your dormitory."

"Urk...! F-Fine...!" Kaito hastily grabs his messenger bag from the bench. "I'll see you later (Y/N)! Text me...!" The blonde flicks a wary glance in Romeo's direction before scampering off.

"Now that the fool has left, you are coming with me, BB! I have a job for you. And turn your audio notifications on for my number, FFS!" Romeo orders.

You roll your eyes before getting to your feet. "Fine, fine, I hear ya."

After announcing that Romeo had your location tracked, you swore that you had begun to notice that he was making more frequent appearances where you didn't usually see him. When you went to eat at the weird diner Ren works at with Lucas, Romeo showed up in the middle of your meal, requesting you return to Sinostra as soon as possible. A day later you saw him on the main campus in the second year wing of the building to fetch you after class. Another day, you went to help Alan with some paperwork and the Sinostra vice-captain was there, too. Romeo had claimed that he was just there to speak with Leo, but then insisted that you come with him once you had finished up, anyway.

It's not like you had a set schedule to work. Sometimes you wouldn't help him for a day or two in the event that Darkwick needed something that took priority. Who knows? Maybe it really was all a coincidence.

You sat in the VIP room again, a few of Romeo's goons were talking amongst themselves across the room, while you were waiting for whatever task the vice-captain had planned for you that evening. Romeo had texted you earlier in the day, and he had made it seem as if it were something urgent.

Eventually, the double doors burst open and Romeo made a beeline for you.

You lift your eyes to meet the Sinostra vice-captain's as he approaches, stopping to a halt right in front of you. “Heya, Boss,” You smirk up at him. “What's good?”

“(Y/N),” Romeo starts, his voice as sweet as molasses. The vice-captain is looking down at you with a jovial smile. ”Just In time~”

“Ugh…” Your expression falters to a tired one in an instant. Standing up, you make an attempt to slide out from in front of him. “Just realized, Cornelius asked me to do some stuff at Frostheim, so if you'll excuse me–”

Romeo holds your waist firmly in place, narrowing his eyes sharply at you. “The Chancellor sent you no such notification. I should know.”

“C'mon now you're hacking into my phone to read my messages?” You ask in disbelief, irritation rising in your voice. “I'm starting to think you're in love with me.”

“Idiot! Now you're just blowing smoke up your ass! I have my reasons,” Romeo counters vaguely. The vice-captain is close enough that you can smell every fragrant product he had on today.

You click your tongue, sitting back down with your arms folded over your chest. Debating with Romeo was like talking to a brick wall, so you weren't about to waste your breath. “Fine, what do you need?”

Romeo turns his head to the group of his lackeys behind him. “Fools! You better have that box with you.”

“Sorry, right here, Boss!” One of the students hurried over to Romeo's side, handing said box over to him.

Romeo takes it, then tosses it in your lap. It's not that heavy and it has a white lid. “Here! This will be my gift to you, should you do what I ask.”

You eye him skeptically, to which he nods. Despite the usage of the word gift, knowing him, there was a pretty big catch. Hesitantly, you reach out and lift the lid in front of you.

The scarlet fabric immediately catches your eye. Silk?

You lift the item out of its box, extending the piece of clothing enough to where you can really judge what you're looking at. It looks to be some type of halter neck evening gown. Formal, yet not too formal. The way the fabric feels against your fingertips tells you that this is worth several months' pay at least. Just beneath the dress is a set of accenting jewelry at the bottom of the box. You don't know enough about that kind of thing to even begin to guess it's worth.

“...What the hell is this?” You ask, completely bewildered.

“A dress, obviously. Do you have eyes?” Romeo snaps.

“Okay, but why?”

Romeo exhales, steeling himself like he's about to make a sales pitch. “...Tonight I have a guest. A former colleague of mine, for lack of a better word. I have a list of tables I need you to lead him to and goad him into playing. The fool likes to bid high.”

“And I gotta wear this to do it?” You prod, creasing your eyebrows.

“That GFNS has a type and if I work my magic, you will fit that,” Romeo explains, placing a hand on his hip.

“You can't seriously expect me to flirt with some rando. And what, are you gonna cheat him out of money? I thought you were against that!” You argue.

Romeo clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “You don't need to seduce him, just act as you normally do. Pretend you recognize him. The idiot has a meager amount of fame in the outside world, so it won't be odd. As for cheating him– the piece of shit deserves it. He did the same to me and still believes I am unaware. It's a wonder I haven't killed him already.”

You pause, taking a moment to process everything. “How the hell am I supposed to convince him to follow me around?”

“Start by offering him a drink, and tell him you're my cousin. I will provide you with a list of what to do from there. The majority of men are simple meatheads,” Romeo states matter-of-factly. “Throw a pretty woman in front of them and they will fold like a deck of cards.”

You roll your eyes. “So now I'm pretty? What happened to ‘basic bitch’?”

“...You're not repulsive,” Romeo admits, averting his gaze.

“Such a charmer,” You say sarcastically.

“So, will you do it?”

It didn't sound like the most fun task in the world, but if you weren't pressured into behaving a certain way, it really wouldn't be so bad. Plus, you kind of want to have Romeo doll you up. The vice-captain has referenced it enough in passing, but had yet to follow through.

“I really don't have to hit on him?” You reiterate.

“Be friendly, that's it,” Romeo insists.

“Do I get another kiss for this?” You joke, wiggling your eyebrows.

Romeo's flicks his gaze over you fully, as if he's genuinely considering your question. “...Ask me again when you clean up.”

You nearly choke on air at his nonchalant reply.

“Joke! That was a joke!” You insist with a nervous laugh, waving your hands wildly in protest. “My next kiss, face or otherwise, will be reserved for my future partner!”

Romeo's lips pull slightly downward and his expression wavers like he has more commentary to throw back at you. Instead, the vice-captain pushes out an exasperated sigh as he turns on his heel and waves you off dismissively. “Go and put that on. Don't keep me waiting.”

“Okie dokie. You got it, Boss.”

When Romeo handed you a mirror after he applied makeup on you and styled your hair, you almost didn't recognize yourself. It's not as if you hadn't dressed up before, but it never came out quite this well. As it turns out, the vice-captain wasn't all talk with his stylistic choices.

You were thoroughly impressed. Romeo had also brought shoes to you before he had gotten started on your makeup, that matched the dress and accessories. Everything fit perfectly, too. Which, you did wonder how that was possible without Romeo somehow invading your privacy again. You didn't bother touching on that subject.

“Woah, you really know your stuff,” You compliment Romeo, as you admire the rouge lip color he had applied to your face. It complimented the dress perfectly.

“I am offended that you ever doubted me,” Romeo retorts. He's sitting on a stool in front of you and the couch in the VIP lounge. “I have a feeling this will go according to plan. Just look over your notes beforehand, got it?”

You nod, lowering the mirror onto the table in front of you. “By the way, is this guy really going to make up what it cost to get me this stuff? This looks crazy expensive.”

“Of course,” Romeo insists, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “You think I intend to support a charity case? As long as you do what I say, this will be a miniscule dent in the return.”

“That's good at least. I almost started to feel bad.” You stand up, with the intention of getting the ball rolling.

“Hold on,” Romeo stands with you, pulling a golden vial out of the pouch of makeup that rests on the table. The vice-captain opens it, a strong, but inviting fragrance permeates your immediate surroundings. Leaning in close, Romeo dabs some of the liquid from the wand that's attached to the lid onto your neck.

“Oh, that smells nice…” You murmur, pretending like the close proximity of your gorgeous tyrant of a boss isn't making your heart beat rapidly.

“As it should. It's of high quality.” Romeo brings a pale hand to your neck, spreading the oil-like perfume across the expanse of your neck gently with his fingertips.

The Sinostra vice-captain's expression is completely unreadable at the moment. And for reasons unbeknownst to you– you struggle to take your eyes off of him. Maybe it's because he looks more peaceful than usual? If you had to guess, this kind of thing might be fun for him.

“Thank you,” You say impulsively, beaming at him.

Romeo removes his fingers from your neck, flitting his gaze to meet yours. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. “What are you thanking me for?”

“I dunno, this is kind of fun. I think it's better than you making me go on a drug deal,” You tease.

“I never admitted to making you do anything of the sort,” Romeo counters.

“Never admitted,” You emphasize with a coy smirk. “Even if you're doing this for your own agenda, I still appreciate your creative efforts. So, thanks.”

Romeo stares at you with an indiscernible expression for a few beats, his face alarmingly close to yours. It feels strange. Since when was he so comfortable being this close without reason? Especially when he's not visibly pissed about something.

“...Thank me by doing your job correctly,” He finally says.

Romeo increases the distance between the two of you, placing the now closed vial of perfume back where he got it. “Now scram. I have things to do.”

It feels like you can finally breathe. What is this strange feeling?

“Yeah, sure thing…”

The guest Romeo had told you to tag along with was turning out to be a seemingly decent guy. He had dark hair and was handsome enough, but compared to the ghouls at Darkwick, he didn't particularly stand out. Based on the information Romeo wrote down for you, he is well known on social media for creating and promoting a pretty successful clothing line. His actual name was lost on you, but Romeo just told you to refer to him as Zomo. You weren't sure if it was a public nickname for him, or one given to him by the vice-captain himself.

Everything Romeo had told you to do had seemingly worked. The influencer initially had been confused by you approaching him, until you labeled yourself as Romeo's close cousin. From there it was relatively easy to converse with him. You showed him around and you didn't have to try very hard to get him to participate at the table games. The first table the list told you to take him to was a game of roulette. And you couldn't help but notice a familiar red-headed captain seated at the gaming table.

You knew basic casino etiquette, courtesy of Romeo. Since you didn't intend on playing, you observed from behind Zomo's chair.

“Say… don't I know ya from somewhere, Kitty?”

You glance over at Taiga. He's leaning on the table in a languid posture, his head resting on his fist. The Sinostra Captain is smirking at you impishly.

“Yeah. Don't you remember? It's me, John Titor,” You joke, though you intentionally keep your expression serious for the bit.

“...That what it was?” The smile never leaves Taiga's face as he stares at you, likely trying to figure out if it's actually the truth. After a long pause, he starts laughing. “...Gyahaha! Ya don't seem like a John. Feel like ya gotta have a beard for that one!”

Romeo's guest looks between the two of you skeptically. You wonder if he knows Taiga already. If not, you could only imagine the confusion, especially considering you introduced yourself with your real name.

“I'll just call ya Johnny for now, how ‘bout it?” Taiga holds a fist out to you, like he intends to hand you something. Curious, you reach your palm out to him.

Without warning, Taiga slaps several orange chips directly into your hand. A familiar tingling sensation lingers on your palm at the contact. You blink, meeting Taiga's gaze dubiously.

Was it part of Romeo's plan for Taiga to use his stigma, then? Guess it only makes sense if they're trying to screw this guy.

Taiga grins at you wolfishly for a moment before pulling back and leaning onto the table again. “Get me a drink will ya? Think I'm in the mood for an Old Fashioned.”

“...Sure,” You say. Looking down at the Zomo guy, you speak up again. “Want anything?”

“Same thing, thanks,” He replies.

Hours went by of spectating as Romeo's guest fails each and every one of the games he participates in. A constant throughout the evening was Taiga making an appearance at every table that you influenced Zomo to play at. If you had any doubt that Romeo and the Sinostra Captain had collaborated in the scheme together, that was long gone.

Throughout it all, Zomo continued requesting drinks, and you retrieved them every time he asked. He was either so trashed that he didn't realize how much money he lost, or he just didn't care. By the time you reached the finale of the last game on your list, Zomo was completely out of chips.

“Damn… lost again, eh? That's embarrassing.” Romeo's guest lethargically scratches his head at the Baccarat table. The rest of the players had already made themselves scarce, leaving the two of you alone for the moment. Aside from the dealer who was busying himself in idle chatter with another casino employee.

“Oof, damn!” You say, doing your best to feign shock for the umpteenth time. “That sucks, buddy. Maybe next time?”

“Buddy…?” Zomo repeats, his brow creased. You hear him curse under his breath. And only seconds after that, you feel a hand grip your wrist and yank you forward.

“Woah…!” You trip over your feet and nearly butt heads with the man seated at the table. Zomo stretches a hand out, stilling your shoulder in time with his free hand.

“Here I thought you were gonna cozy up with me for the night. Turns out you're just a fuckin’ tease, eh?”

Oops, looks like you made the wrong dialogue choice. Creeper alert!

You attempt to yank your hand back, but the man's grip is firm. Zomo's face is just inches from yours, and his breath reeks of brown liquor. Taking a deep breath, you narrow your eyes at him. “Let me go, fuck face.”

“Don't think I'm gonna do that,” He says, his voice slurring over his words.

“Dude, seriously!” You growl, moving your other hand forward to attempt to peel the man's fingers off.

The sound of a gun bolt sliding back and locking into place sounds from your right.

You glance up. The Sinostra vice-captain is training a rifle less than a foot from the man's head. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his finger linger dangerously close to the trigger. “W-Wait Romeo, don't–”

“Get the fuck out,” Romeo seethes, his words come out far more venomous than you ever thought possible. “Unless you'd like me to contact Darkwick's medical facility to relay details for your death certificate.”

“W-Woah, chill man…! I w-wasn't gonna do anything,” Zomo sputters out as he releases your wrist to hold his hands up in surrender.

“Not only are you a thieving weasel, you're lying through your teeth,” Romeo balances the butt of the rifle against his shoulder, using his free hand to wave over a member of security. “Escort this BFL out.”

The security member quickly makes his way over to grab Zomo's shoulder and carries out Romeo's orders. The vice-captain's old acquaintance doesn't make a fuss as he's led towards the door. If he did, you may actually think he's insane. You wouldn't put it past Romeo to actually pull the trigger. The Sinostra vice-captain had shot at Ritsu before, after all.

Romeo lowers his gun once Zomo's out of sight, and turns his head to look at you, his gaze cold. “VIP room, now.”

“Uh, sure.”

You follow Romeo back to the room you can never seem to stay out of nowadays. The vice-captain says nothing the entire walk there. It was a little unsettling not hearing him rant angrily about one thing or another. You weren't sure what to expect when you watched Romeo close the massive double doors behind the two of you. A distinct clicking noise makes you double take in his direction.

Did he just lock the door?

A brief surveillance of the room tells you that you're the only two people inside.

“Sit,” Romeo demands, waving in the general direction of the sofa. The vice-captain doesn't wait for you to reply before he stalks off towards the back of the room with his rifle, presumably to stow it away.

You make your way over to the sofa, plopping down. Deciding it's been weirdly awkward for long enough, you speak up. “You're being quiet. Are you mad?”

You hear something click shut from behind you, and a few moments later Romeo walks back into view. The vice-captain makes his way over to you, taking a seat relatively close to you. He looks at you with a hard gaze.

“Would it kill you to take my word and just follow the script I gave you, moron?” Romeo finally reprimands. Though, he sounds almost nice compared to how he usually berates.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that ‘buddy’ would set that weirdo off?” You argue. “You really know some odd people.”

“...You should be grateful I was using the EITS to watch over you,” Romeo spats, his arms folded over his chest.

“It's okay, I would have karate chopped him,” You insist, holding your arms out in a playful representation of what you imagine a proper karate pose would look like.

“Don't make me laugh,” Romeo starts, though the agitation in his tone tells you he's not actually in a laughing kind of mood. “You couldn't even peel that pig's fingers off of you!”

You pivot your body to face him, leaning your cheek on the back of the couch. “You worried about little old me?”

“Worried…?” Romeo repeats, his intense gaze burning a hole through you. “The only one who should be worried is that weasel. So long as you are in my LOS, no one will touch you.”

You feel your cheeks burn at Romeo's words. “Uhm… line of sight?”

“Obviously.”

“Geez. Can’t tell if you sound delusional, or romantic,” You mutter, averting your gaze to a random spot on the couch.

Romeo scoffs. “I said it exactly as I meant it. Attributing further sentiment is a waste of time.”

You laugh a bit, in spite of yourself. “Yeah, don't I know it. I'm getting ahead of myself, sorry Boss.”

“You should be. Now make up for it by canceling your extracurricular plans this week to work for me.” Romeo's lips peel into a devilish grin as he makes the absurd request.

“That hardly seems like a fair shake,” You say with a snort. “What are you gonna do when I'm not around one day?”

Romeo's expression slips into a puzzled one. “What do you mean?”

“Well, one day I'm gonna return home if I break my curse. I doubt Darwick intends on giving me permanent residence here. I'll have to help you find someone to replace me when that happens,” You explain, flashing him a bittersweet smile. “You forget?”

Romeo frowns, eyeing you dubiously. “I don't plan on forking my assistant over so easily.”

“I didn't realize that you had any real say in it,” You tease. “Are you going to convince Hyde that I will be a valuable asset for the foreseeable future?”

“If that's what it comes to. That DOF owes me anyhow, always nagging at the most inconvenient of times!” Romeo pauses, holding your gaze. “...Don't tell me you actually have been looking forward to going back to your mundane life?”

Did you?

Maybe in some ways. Though, Darkwick and the people in it have become your second home. Initially it wasn't a choice, but for the moment you wouldn't trade it away. Not yet.

“...There are things I miss. People,” You admit, doing your best not to sound like a sad sack.

“Like who?” Romeo persists, the frustrated look on his face not budging.

“Family and friends,” You reply vaguely. “I miss the normalcy sometimes. The routine, being able to put time into things that aren't important, and going out when I want with whoever.”

Romeo clicks his tongue irritably. “...What a stupid sentiment. You can basically have all that here. Why not just stay here and visit there?”

You snicker at his persistence. This might be the most interest that the Sinostra vice-captain ever showed in how you feel. Though, the bar is still low considering he's using that information to try and manipulate your actions.

“Why not just visit me if I can't stay here?” You counter.

“I have far more important things to do.”

You sigh, feigning a wistful expression. “Well, that's alright. I guess I'll just invite Kaito over.”

“What…?” Romeo sits forward, his fuchsia eyes glaring daggers at you. “You intend to let that blubbering fool into your home alone?!”

“Sure, why not?” You ask, your lips curling into a coy smirk.

“That leech still owes me money! If he's around you with that much freedom the hormonal fool will spend my cash impulsively,” Romeo explains.

“Oh, right…” You mumble, wearing a pensive expression. “...Then I guess Alan could visit.”

“That behemoth will cause a mess bumbling around in your dinky home,” Romeo argues.

“Hm… Towa, surely.”

“Have you lost your mind? Do you have flood insurance?!”

“Okay, Boss. Tell me– who is suitable for me to invite into my home?” You ask, stifling a laugh.

“No one,” Romeo answers with conviction. “So stop considering it, BB.”

You sigh. “You know this ongoing territorial Boss bit is totally gonna scare away any potential love interests for me in the future.”

“Good,” Romeo remarks impassively, narrowing his eyes at you. “Let there be no other distractions.”

“That's totally not fair. Unless you're planning on doing the charity work of being my boyfriend, I think I'll pass,” You retort, puffing your cheeks. “As a hopeless romantic, there's some things I won't sacrifice.”

“I will do it,” Romeo declares pointedly.

Your eyes widen and you lift your head from the back cushion of the couch, gawking in disbelief. “...What?”

The vice-captain's expression is serious. Romeo's words are not to be taken lightly.

“I said I'll do it, idiot,” Romeo insists. “But I will write up a list of guidelines you must follow consistently in regards to hygiene and skin care routines. And for outings together you will not give me any push back when I select your outfits, or how I choose to style your hair. And you must be prompt when I invite you out, no excuses.”

You gape at him in shock. “...You're serious?”

“Does it seem like I'm joking, nitwit?” Romeo snaps.

“Okay… what about, uh…” Your cheeks turn bright red, you can just feel it. “Intimacy? Physical touch? Is that really something you'd be open to…?”

“So long as you're not filthy, I will accomodate,” Romeo answers, like it's the simplest question in the world.

“Er… But is that something you want or just something you'd be willing to do just to keep me here?” You prod, brows tented.

Romeo gives you a prickly stare. “Obviously, my intention is to keep you here.”

Ouch.

There's a couple ways you could interpret that, if you think hard enough about it. But since it wasn't the answer you were looking for, it was difficult to not take personal. You weren't particularly interested in trading intimacy with someone who just wanted you around for business purposes. Even if it seemed like it could be fun, it would inevitably be a disaster in the long run. But it was Romeo, what did you expect?

Shifting your gaze off to the side, you speak in a near whisper “...I'm sorry, that's not really something I'm interested in. I'm gonna have to pass on this one. I like you and all, but I think this is seriously gonna blow if I get attached to you romantically, ya know?”

Romeo stares at you pensively. Even as you shoot up from your seat seconds later.

“I'm gonna head home now!” You announce, somehow managing to keep your voice steady. “You can call me whenever you need me in the morning though, since there's no classes tomorrow.”

Just as you wave Romeo off and turn heel, an arm snakes around your waist, pulling you backwards.

“W-Woah…!”

In the blink of an eye, you're sitting back on the couch, with your thighs overlapping Romeo's. The Sinostra vice-captain is gripping one of your wrists and his left arm is looped around your backside.

You stare up at him in surprise, and he's glaring daggers back at you. His pretty lips pressed into a thin line.

“I cannot believe you have the audacity to reject me,” Romeo says, his jaw clenched as if he's struggling to maintain his composure.

“Hey, reject?” You echo, your eyes wide like saucers. “T-That's not my intention.”

The vice-captain's eye twitches in vexation. “Not your intention? How else could I possibly interpret that?! Do you have any idea how lucky you should feel that the thought even crossed my mind, THD?”

“I do feel lucky,” You argue, your brow creasing. “I-I just don't think the way we feel about each other is the same.”

“If that's the case or not, what difference does it make? There is no one better suited for you, I can assure you that,” Romeo asserts.

Heat rises to your cheeks at the bold statement. You open your mouth, but find yourself grappling with your brain and heart to the point where nothing slips out.

“Is there someone else? Is that what this is about? One of the fools you rattled off earlier? Do tell me their name,” Romeo rants. Despite the vice-captain's voice not being as elevated as it usually is, his expression isn't any less venomous. “If you try to weasel your way out of it, I will find out eventually.”

“No…!” You nearly shout in disbelief. “C'mon, you're being completely unreasonable! How would there be? I'm with you during most of my free time!”

Romeo lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “On four separate occasions this week, you were spending time with other ghouls. And I've seen the way those Frostheim fools look at you!”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, Romeo it's not like that…!”

“Don't! Don't call me that…!” The vice-captain tears his gaze from yours, his eyes settling somewhere on your lap. “...Take some responsibility, BB! You're the one that started this shit with that idiotic kiss nonsense!”

Huh…?

“That's what this is about…?” You ask, your jaw slack as you stare at Romeo's conflicted expression.

As far as you could tell, the Sinostra vice-captain had been completely flippant about the interaction. Was that really the catalyst for his possessive behavior? Your attempt to mess with him?

“It infuriates me,” Romeo starts, his posture tense. “You had remnants of sweat on your face, and you looked as if you just rolled out of bed, putting no thought into your appearance whatsoever. Other than that moisturizer, there was no fragrance lingering on you.”

You give Romeo a tired look, wondering where he could possibly be going with this.

“...It infuriates me that I didn't hate it,” Romeo admits, his grip on your wrist tightening marginally as the confession leaves his mouth.

Oh…

“...You mean you like the way my natural skin smells?” You ask, eyeing the vice-captain curiously.

“Must I repeat myself in another language, fool?” Romeo snaps, his steely eyes darting up at you.

It wasn't that unusual to like the smell of someone's natural oils. But you suppose for someone as finicky about scents and hygiene as Romeo could be, it was probably pretty important to him.

A giggle slips past your lips involuntarily.

“And what about this is so funny…?!” Romeo snaps.

You smile at him, finding the beautiful ghoul in front of you particularly endearing right now. “That's just the best compliment I think I may ever receive from you. And it's super common. Science might say that it means you're attracted to my pheromones. You're so cute.”

“Cute?” Romeo repeats, looking at you like you've lost your mind. “I have been reduced to falling prey to primitive behavior that does nothing to serve me! There's nothing ‘cute’ about this, FFS!”

So, Romeo likes your smell so much that it's been making him act like a possessive basket case all week? That explanation didn't entirely track.

“Do you like me, Boss?” You ask, sporting a lopsided smile.

“Like? Who fucking knows,” Romeo grumbles, leaning back into the couch as his grip falls from your wrist.

“Well…” You look down at your legs that were still on top of his. “I gotta say, I don't think I would have ever thought you'd let me be on you like this. You want me to move?”

Romeo doesn't give you a verbal reply, but the arm around your waist stiffens.

“No, then?” You prod.

“You're not leaving. Not like that. Not now,” Romeo decides. The vice-captain looks at you like he's daring you to go against his orders.

“I won't go if you don't want me to,” You reassure.

Romeo must believe you because his arm relaxes slightly.

“...Hey,” You start. “If you're not sure how you feel, can I try something? Maybe it will help you determine your feelings. And then we can discuss the whole dating thing again.”

“...Try what?” Romeo asks, raising an eyebrow.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for a potential adverse reaction. “Okay, here me out. And feel free to throw me off for my brazen stupidity if you're against it…”

“Spit it out, idiot.”

“Okay, okay. Can I kiss you…?” You blurt out, wincing preemptively.

Romeo stares at you with an unreadable gaze, and your stomach flips with anticipation.

“...Fine.”

“Oh, for real?”

“Do it before I change my mind, BB,” Romeo demands.

“Oh, yes. Of course. So, uh… like before?” You meant the cheek kiss. Hopefully the vice-captain would catch on to save you the embarrassment of explaining.

Romeo clicks his tongue. “Do I have to hold your hand through everything? Just do it.”

Okay, cheek kiss to be safe. That shouldn't be too intimidating. You've kissed your friends and family members cheeks, nothing but a cinch!

You sit up and inch your face closer towards Romeo's. It doesn't help your nerves that he's staring at you expectantly. Has this guy ever been on the receiving end of a kiss before? Couldn't he at least close his staggeringly pretty eyes so your heart would stop pounding against your chest like a jackhammer?

Knowing how bothered Romeo would be if you chickened out now helps you regain your composure. You shut your eyes and close the distance, pressing your lips against his devastatingly plush cheek. After an appropriate length of time, you pull back and assess the damage.

Romeo shoots you an unimpressed look. “What? That's it?”

You twiddle your thumbs nervously, an awkward laugh spilling from your mouth. “Uh… what, you want me to do it again?”

“Yes! Would you like me to write it in crayon?” Romeo snaps, the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

“Okay, okay!” You impulsively reach for Romeo's gloved hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

The vice-captain shows no sign of protest at the gesture, so you proceed with the second kiss, this time landing your lips closer to his temple.

By the time you pull back, Romeo looks nothing short of impatient. “Are you so caught up in the role you played earlier that you forgot we aren't actually related? Is this supposed to entice me?”

You puff your cheeks, your face burning from his criticism. “You're such a turd! You really want me to kiss you for real?”

That's the only conclusion you could draw from the vice-captain's words. If your lips were even slightly chapped, or breath even a little off there would surely be hell to pay. You don't recall eating anything sinister.

You don't have time to make any further advances, nor does he grant you the courtesy of a verbal reply. The arm around your waist effortlessly draws you closer, to where you're sitting fully on the vice-captain's lap. Romeo pulls his hand from your grip, drawing it towards your shoulder.

You nearly gasp when you feel the wandering hand ghost over the expanse of your collar bone. “What are you–”

“Quiet,” Romeo interjects softly. His fuchsia eyes rake over you in admiration as his fingertips travel upwards towards your neck. You feel his thumb gently brush against the length of your throat, eventually tickling your jawline.

“Exactly as I pictured it,” Romeo murmurs vaguely. “...Don't wear this around anyone else.”

“...W-Well, to be fair I was already seen in this by countless people,” You argue, struggling to hold his gaze. If someone would have told you just hours before that the Sinostra vice-captain would be leering so suggestively at you right now, you'd surely laugh in their face.

Just what did you do to catch the attention of the most self-assured and vain man you'd ever met in your life?

“A severe lapse in judgment on my part. Don't anticipate it happening again,” Romeo retorts bitterly.

Without warning, the Sinostra vice-captain cups his hand against your neck and pulls you forward. Your eyes flutter shut unconsciously and the warmth of his lips reach yours.

In spite of the intense nervousness you felt just moments prior, the kiss has you melting on impact. Maybe it's the way his touch is so characteristically deliberate, yet delicate at the same time. You knew his lips were soft, it's obvious at just a glance. But it was clear to you now that having them pressed against your own is far more satisfying than you could have ever imagined.

You wrap your arms around Romeo's neck in your mindless search for a closer touch. A passing insecure thought that you're doing too much materializes, but is quickly quelled when you feel his lips part and reconnect with yours again. You feel a hand grip the side of your hip, his digits going in for a tight squeeze. Involuntarily, you whimper against Romeo's mouth.

The Sinostra vice-captain pulls back from the kiss, his face beautifully flushed. His right thumb strokes the contour of your jaw languidly as he surveys you with half-lidded eyes. “I've made up my mind.”

You feel completely malleable under his deceptively soft gaze. Drawing your arms back ever so slightly, you press him further. “...And?”

Romeo regards you voraciously, his lips curling into a smirk. “You're mine, (Y/N). It would be in your best interest to remember that.”

#tokyo debunker #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #romeo lucci/reader #fluff #romeo lucci #taiga hoshibami

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serizawasgamecube · 4 months ago

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hello! ive decided to open commissions properly since im currently in need of money to help pay for my student loans + insurance copays. please contact me either through DMs here or on discord if youre interested!

TERMS & CONDITIONS

PAYPAL

also, if you have the money to spare, i encourage you to donate to The Sameer Project, which is helping to provide food, water, and other necessities to families currently under siege in Gaza.

#arts #artists on tumblr #commissions #thus it spake #ill add a little thank you doodle if you send in proof of a $5+ usd donation too!

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hoe4sports · 1 year ago

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“All this time I’ve wasted”

Alexia Putellas x reader

A/N: This is the third part of the series based off of Myles Smith’s song “Stargazing”. Triggers involves swearing and depressive thoughts. And some head smacking. P1 can be found here

«And with that, it sums up the terms and conditions of this contract. Any questions, concerns or requests?” That were the final words of Brann’s sports manager. You smiled politely as your manager was asking questions regarding loans, termination and renewal of contracts. It was tiring, the situation with Alexia made every cell in your body tense up. It filled your heart with rage and hatred. Yet, you couldn’t help but love her. After your argument, you hadn’t spoken to her again. Always finding another partner during practice, always sitting with someone else at lunch and pretending to fall asleep on flights and on buses. All to avoid your bestfriend, Alexia. You see, she meant the world to you and she had done that for over 20 years. Somehow the bricks of your house had gotten torn apart violently similar to how a tornado tears apart states. That was why you had talked to your manager about being interested in a transfer, and on the world of football; money talks. A transfer meant more money for him. The process of discussing the contract was excruciating. It made your feel at conflict, like you had a big gaping hole in your heart that you couldn’t close up even though your blood was pouring out on the floor. The team didn’t know that the contract was in discussion, they didn’t know how you had practically begged the Barcelona sports manager to terminate your contract or to sell you. The feeling of betrayal was eating you alive, and it was about to get a whole lot worse.

The following Monday, you woke up to a million notifications on your phone. It felt like it was about to blow up next to your bed causing you to violently be ripped out of the comfort of your dreams. The contract discussed had leaked. You threw yourself backwards and covered your face with a pillow. This was not how you wanted things to play out. Your first feeling was anger, followed by anxiety and then relief. Anger because someone had leaked your secrets. Anxiety because the team were going to be furious with you. And relieved because you didn’t have to tell the team yourself, you didn’t even have to bring up the subject because if you really knew your team, you knew that someone would take it upon themselves to bring it up.

You sat outside the grand arena debating whether to walk in or not. Barcelona was your legacy and it wrecked every part of you to leave it all behind. It wasn’t like you were going on a loan or to a club in Spain; you were going to Norway. More specifically, to Brann. The club that you played a few months prior in championship league. You had originally had offers from Germany, but Germany felt overwhelming. That’s why when your manager told you about a possible deal with Brann, you wanted to feel ecstatic. It would be close to multiple of your friends; Aurora Mikalsen whom you knew from before, Frido that grew up in Sweden, Ingrid and Caro that grew up in Norway. You didn’t really have anything against Norway, and perhaps Norway was what you needed. However, the feeling of ecstasy never came around, and it made you feel like you were walking around in an empty shell. The shell of what once were your passionate, joyful, sunshine self had now been replaced with guilt, sadness and despair.

08:45, 15 minutes was all you had to mentally pull yourself together enough to not fall apart inside practice. You traced the roughness of the leather on your steering wheel with your fingertips. Another thing that needed to be added onto your to do list before a potential move to Norway. The heart in your chest felt like it was about to burst out of you. It still felt like your heart was about to drown, like it needed cpr for you to make it through the day. It felt like Alexia had lured you into a dark alley and pushed you into a deep hole in the concrete making you fall into the never ending darkness.

08:48.Your brain was so caught up within its own whirlwind of chaotic thoughts that you didn’t notice Ingrid standing outside of your car, patiently waiting for you in the pouring rain. Ingrid tapped the window and you opened the door. “Hey, are you coming in?” the Norwegian said with her usual cheery voice and her perfect smile. Her smile was so perfect it hurt, she was so perfect. God, if you were like Ingrid then maybe Alexia would like you. Ingrid was so kind, so bright and so compassionate. She was one of your closest friends, yet you couldn’t bare to load all your heavy rocks into her backpack. “Just go ahead, I’m coming soon” you mumbled hoping to get Ingrid to move along with any fuss. Ingrid took notice of your frown and raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?” Your tears immediately came pressing into the premises of your eyes making your eyes burn as if they had been infested with chili. The pressing caused you to rub your eyes intensely, not noticing that Ingrid had walked around and hopped into the passenger seat of your car until her hand touched your thigh. You looked at her while tears were streaming down your face. “Are you really leaving?” You nodded. “Brann». Ingrid’s eyes widened. “Norway? But, why Norway?” She asked with furrowed brows. Norway wasn’t really a country where female football was at its most popular. You didn’t really know why, it was the only team that had decided to take the offer for you. None of the bigger leagues had teams that wanted you. Perhaps that was all you were. Unwanted. Your mother had disowned you after your father had passed away in a horrible accident as she took to the bottle to avoid her emotions. Alexia and her family had been your family. That was also about to be ripped away from you. You had no siblings, your parents didn’t have siblings and all your grandparents had passed. You felt like you were all alone in this big world where you had no purpose but to chase after a ball. Your eyes met Ingrid’s blue eyes. Her eyes were so intense, so bright. She was skilful, a natural, a force of nature. But you were just there. Always on the bench until some new exciting player came along and then you’d be benched from the bench for months on end. Never making any rosters. Never given the chance. Never noticed. The chain of thoughts were broken by Ingrid leaning forward to shake you gently. “Yes, Norway. I guess I’ve always wanted to see the mountains.” That was a lie. “Norway is so pretty, and I would love to learn another language.” Another like. “I really think this could be a good opportunity for me”. Third and last lie.

08.50: Ingrid reluctantly seemed to accept the lies as she nodded and summed up something about meeting you inside afterwards. You had just given her a hum in respons concealing your spinning thoughts. Your thoughts were spinning in a way that they hadn’t before and the voice in your head wouldn’t shut up. It felt like the world was wrapping you in a weighted blanket only to try to strangle you. It felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. Like someone had put your car into a never ending rollercoaster. A tiny drop of sweat onto the tip of your nose snapped you out of it. You rubbed your eyes hard. Just hard enough to have fuzzy vision and to see starts. You wiped your hands onto your shorts. The teardrops on the windows were rolling down and the thunder was not many seconds behind. The atmosphere was dark as the clouds covered the usually blue sky. The weather felt like a metaphor for your fucked up emotions. The things you would do to

08:58. Two minutes was all that was left before practice. Before another day of facing the love of your life that didn’t feel the same towards you. The love of your life huh. Football or the woman you now could stare into the eyes of without feeling the crumbs of what once was the silver lining of your soul? You closed your eyes for the last time as you took yet a deep breath in desperation of its effect. Your hand grabbed the hinge of the door and you hopped out as you slowly walked towards the arena and your warderobe.

09.03: You ran out to the field with the fabric of your cleats clinging to your grilling socks. The other girls stood outside listening to the coach all dressed in their raincoats. You didn’t bother with the jacket, and ran out in just shorts and your half zip sweater instantly feeling the familiarity of coldness as the rain poured down around you. The other girls stared at you as you slumped next to the group, and at the corner of your eye; if you just looked far enough, there was Alexia. Focused as always, always sharp, always prepared, always perfect.

14.47: The day had just ended, and you had spent hours in overdrive trying to keep Alexia at distance while still pretending to be nice. It was all becoming too much. The gush of the reality showered over you like a semi truck while you plopped down on the bench after the other girls had finished showering and left for the day. You were shivering from the rain and the cold. It was the kind of cold that you felt deep inside your bones. The kind of cold that leaves you shaking uncontrollably for hours upon hours on end. The back of your head was leaning on the locker as you shut your eyes. The thoughts were so loud. They were occupying every inch of your brain. The infectious sadness and conflict rained upon you like there was no tomorrow. God, you hated this. The position you had gotten yourself in. The position that you had forced yourself in based off of an imaginary thought that you could have what you had wanted all your life. What had always been within reach, but yet so far away that you were longing for it. You smacked the back of your head in your locker as your phone started buzzing. Upon closer inspection, it was your agent. He expected a decision from you. A all clear. A positive feedback. It was exhausting trying to make a decision. Your phone felt like it weighed 3000 pounds. Your hand grabbed your phone as your agent’s name lit up your screen. You took a deep breath before answering.

“Hello”

“Hello Miss Y/L/N. How are you?”

“I’m fine, how are you?”

“I’m well! Now, I would’ve been even better if I heard your decision. Have you made up your mind?”

“…”

“Y/N?”

“Oh, yea yea. Bad service. I.. I uhh..”

“Well?”

Your heart rate skyrocketed. You could heart your heartbeats in your ears. Like all the blood was rushing straight through your ear canals. You swallowed nervously. This could change everything. It could give you a new start. A new shot a professional life. But it could ruin everything you ever had. Or didn’t have.

“..Yes. I’ll sign”

“That’s amazing! I’ll let Brann know. Expect a call from me later so we can talk arrangements. Congratulations Y/N, take care!”

*Call ended*

You looked down at your phone. Your head was spinning. You felt dizzy.

“So, it’s true Y/N/N, you are really leaving?”

You looked up with glossy eyes. It was Alexia. Alexia with a sad grin. Tired eyes. Eyes with tears in them. God, you thought to yourself. What have you done.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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burningembers91 · 5 months ago

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Broken Glass - Kim Gun-Woo x Fem!Reader

Follow up to:

The Dance Teacher

Synopsis: Faced with financial ruin, you take out a loan with Smile Capital. By the time you realise your mistake, the damage is already done.

Please note that this fic features violence against the reader. I have kept details vague.

For as long as you could remember, you’d wanted to be a dancer. Your parents always said that as a baby, instead of walking, you’d dance everywhere. You were enrolled in ballet classes from the age of three, spending every spare second you had practicing your pliets and arabesques. You danced on your way to and from school, you danced while studying, you danced while cleaning the house. You enrolled in contemporary and lyrical classes, along with hip hop and even ballroom. You couldn’t get enough of the way it felt when you gave your body over to the music, getting lost in the emotion that came with movement.

You’d been desperate to start up your own dance school, to teach others to love dancing as much as you did. You’d spent years saving, squirrelling every penny away to fund your dream. But you hadn’t counted on losing it all, your hard earned cash being taken by the man who was supposed to love you. Your ex had a gambling addiction, one that tore through your life like a wildfire, taking everything with it. Your dream of a dance studio had been so close, but it was ripped from your grasp overnight. You only just managed to keep your apartment, having to sell your car to pay back some of your ex’s debt. He had left when the debt collectors turned up, abandoning you to deal with the fallout of his selfish actions. Your dreams were in tatters, but then someone offered you a lifeline.

A representative from Smile Capital approached you, offering you a sensible sounding loan so you could get back on your feet. The monthly repayment options were affordable, the upfront cost minimal. You saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and you took their loan without a second thought. You opened your studio, your classes selling out as people scrambled for a slot. For a while, life was good. Until it wasn’t.

As you closed up the studio one night, a group of men approached you. You recognised one of them as the man who had offered you the loan, his once smiling, kind face now set into a stony grimace.

“Do you take us for fools?” He asked you, blocking your path as you tried to leave. “We offer to help you, and you laugh in our faces?”

“I’m sorry?” You said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

All the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, your fight or flight kicking in, urging you to run. Something was wrong, and you needed to escape.

“You dumb little bitch,” he laughed, lunging towards you, gripping your hair with such force that tears welled in your eyes. “You think you can get away without paying us?”

You looked around wildly for help, but the street was empty, all other businesses long closed for the night.

“The first payment isn’t due for another 2 weeks,” you squeaked, trying desperately to escape his vice-like grip.

The group of men laughed, and the very blood in your veins turned to ice.

“I’m not talking about the monthly payment you dumb fucking whore,” he spat. “Did you not read the terms and conditions? You had 7 days to pay the upfront costs. And yet, we’ve received nothing.”

Your mind whirred as you thought back to the contract you’d signed. You’d read every page, and had seen nothing about upfront costs. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you started to panic. These men could do whatever they wanted to you in this darkened alleyway, and no one would hear you scream.

“Please,” you whispered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You were thrown to the floor, the contract you’d signed flung unceremoniously at you. Scanning the pages again you noticed the tiny fine print on the last page, so small you could barely read it. With a sickening realisation, you understood what had happened.

“You tricked me,” you sobbed. “How could you?” The sum they had asked for up front was completely beyond your means; it was beyond any normal person’s means.

“You have 24 hours to get me your cash,” the man hissed in your ear. “Or you can say goodbye to your studio.”

His breath was hot on your ear, his fingers once again entwining painfully in your hair as he flicked his tongue along your neck. You shuddered at his unwanted touch, pushing the man away from you. You watched them leave, too scared to move from your crouched position on the floor until you could no longer hear their footsteps. You were done for, your dream and life once again lying in tatters around you.

You didn’t sleep that night, thinking of everything you could to try and get out of the contract. You couldn’t contact the police; after all, you’d signed the contract willingly. Your friends and family didn’t have money to loan you, and you had too much credit card debt to get a loan from the bank. You thought about running, but where would you go? You had no doubt that these people would be able to track you down, and that they’d use the people you cared about to get to you. You’d have no choice but to beg, to ask for forgiveness and more time. But you knew now that they weren’t those kinds of people. Smile Capital didn’t care who they hurt; you were nothing more than an ant underneath their shoe. So tiny and insignificant, and they wouldn’t hesitate to step on you.

***

It was late as Kim Gun-Woo made his way back home, jogging through the darkened streets, the stars in the sky illuminating his way. Practice had run late, but he’d told his mum he’d stop by the cafe on the way home to pick up the purse she’d left behind. The chill in the air was biting, his breath visible as his feet pounded the pavement. He didn’t hear the commotion until he rounded the corner, the street littered with broken glass. He could hear the faint sound of crying, a female voice pleading with someone. Gun-Woo instantly recognised the voice; it was you.

Disguising himself in the shadows, he crouched low, sneaking silently round the corner for a better view. Your studio was in tatters, the glass frontage completely smashed, the furniture and equipment lying broken on the pavement. He could vaguely make out your body lying in between the debris, your pleas going unanswered as you begged for your assailants to cease. Gun-Woo couldn’t stand to see you like this, couldn’t bear to hear you in such distress. If he didn’t step in, there was no telling what might happen to you.

“Leave her alone!”

You heard Gun-Woo’s voice behind you, saw him emerge from the shadows just as one of the men lit a match. The smell of gasoline burned in your nostrils, your voice hoarse as you begged for him to stop. They’d arrived an hour ago, dragging you from your studio and beating you until you could no longer stand. They made you watch as they destroyed your livelihood, smashing glass and mirrors, hacking away at your ballet barres. Your t-shirt was covered in blood, your face sticky with the congealed substance. At this point, you didn’t care if they killed you; there was no coming back from the damage they’d inflicted.

“Gun-Woo, no!” You begged, too weak to stand, your hand outstretched in a feeble attempt to stop him. He was one man against a dozen; he didn’t stand a chance. But you hadn’t seen him fight before, had never witnessed him take down an opponent in the ring in under 2 minutes. He was lithe and agile, but impossibly strong as he made quick work of your assailants. You heard cartilage crunch as his fists made contact with their noses, watched as blood and teeth spurted from their mouths. You barely had time to register what was happening before he picked up off the floor, hoisting you over his shoulder as if you weight nothing. You kept your eyes on your destroyed studio as Gun-Woo carried you to safety, your only solace knowing that now these men were physically hurting as much as you were.

Gun-Woo didn’t stop running until he was safely back at his apartment, you cradled in his arms.

“What happened?” He asked you, laying you down on the sofa as his mum rushed over. You told them about Smile Capital, about the impossible clause you hadn’t read until it was too late.

“My studio is gone,” you sobbed. “They destroyed everything.”

“We can help you rebuild,” Gun-Woo insisted. “You’ll come back stronger than ever.”

“But what about my classes? My students? How am I supposed to make a living? I owe Smile Capital more than I’ll make in a lifetime. I just don’t see how I can come back from this.”

It broke Gun-Woo’s heart to see you like this. Your beautiful face, so beaten and bloody, your usually sunny attitude ground down to nothing.

These men had destroyed you, and Gun-Woo would make them pay.

#bloodhounds #bloodhounds x reader #bloodhounds kdrama #bloodhounds netflix #kim gun woo x reader #kim gun woo #Kim gun woo x you #kim geon woo

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xiii-e · 8 months ago

Note

[ECHO.EXE RUNNING]

◂▸ ... I- I don't know what to say. Thank you feels like such a small word for what I'm feeling.

◂▸ It's hard to picture any kind of forgiveness for the things I've been involved in, how my hands have been dirtied so personally but- that's probably what you mean, when you say you don't expect me to believe you, huh? And you- you speak from experience. I should trust in that, even if my gut doesn't want to.

◂▸ [ another deep, slow breath in. hold for 8 seconds. out for 10]

◂▸ I love Turtie like I did Thirteen, like- family. That's the word I would use for it. Family. It's hard not to feel something like that, when you watched over someone growing from something so tiny, into a whole person, y'know? I don't expect Turtie to ever be them again, Thirteen is- like you said. They died, and you don't come back from that. I watched the light go out. I know... I know that a different person wears their body, now. And one of these days I need to make my peace with that, because I love Turtie just as much as I ever loved Thirteen. It's just... hard.

◂▸ Alright. I think I've got my head on straight again. As much as I can do. I'll try to pick through my feelings more later maybe, but for now- business.

◂▸ Until Turtie's back on-base for their scheduled medical check-ups, I can't show them much of anything; they have their own datapad but I can't send it anything sensitive that's much larger than a text message through ECHO. But... they can still reach out, and still talk about things without worry so long as they get a moments peace to look at their screen. They promised me they'd keep up comms, once they got somewhere with a connection. Something about "not wanting to cause more trouble with Union". It's always about not wanting to cause trouble with that kid...

◂▸ I'm going to take your advice, and start trying to think of what I can show them without compromising what we're trying to do. Maybe if they know some of the stakes, they'll be more willing to examine whether any of this is actually okay. Even if they're just angry, I'd take it. They haven't been angry since they were decanted. It's... unnerving, sometimes. You're right that... it has to come from me. RA knows I don't want to dredge this up, but it's important.

◂▸ And first chance I get, I'm going to push them to talk to you- I know they were thinking about it already, after talking to Z-341-A about some of the legal circus Union's putting on. If I suggest it too, it's likely they'll take it as direction and send a message out. Some advice on trying to talk to them, about things they might clam up about: in terms of their conditioning, they're a Medic before a Soldier. If they start getting too defensive, sometimes... sometimes you can pull them back to the conversation by inviting their concern. It's a tactic I've had to use a couple times. They don't like thinking about themself outside of hard facts, but they're hardwired to look for open wounds in others. Sometimes you can push a little further that way.

◂▸ Hey, if Slipshod needs any information about ECHO to recreate em, I'm happy to share; I'd hardly say my credentials match theirs from what you've said/I've read so chances are they won't need the help, but regardless the metaphorical door's open. I think you're right, it might well help Turtie adjust if they know they've got relative privacy- I know they speak easier behind closed doors when we're in person, at least.

◂▸ I think speaking with you and your squadmates will do them a lot of good. Like you say, a different perspective could do wonders for breaking down what they believe- about HA, about themself. They already want to better understand others, so all I can hope is they start to see themself as worthy of being understood too.

◂▸ ... all I can hope, is that you're right. I want to believe you're right. I know for a fact I'm willing to fight like hell to make sure you are- it does me a lot of good to know, I'm not fighting for it alone anymore.

◂▸ Time for me to get to work. Speak to you soon, Kennedi ... and thank you, again. o7 Helios-8

Greetings. This is Lockbre- no.

Allow me to restart.

This is Kennedi from MSMC-796 speaking (also known as callsign "Lockbreaker", as there was some confusion expressed towards my identity the last we spoke).

To Lio - your mission to rehabilitate "Turtie", as you so affectionately refer to them, is a noble and just one, and I seek to pledge my aid to your cause however I can.

As a former slave "asset" of the Armory under the title of Colonial Legionnaire, I have endured many of the same abuses during my own term of service. The Armory is not kind to those under its employ, be they human, flashclone, or NHP. I have seen many of my former squadmates reduced to little more than bloodthirsty dogs, obediently following orders under threat of revoking their citizenship (or, in rare cases, a shock-collar jolt just weak enough not to kill).

In the eyes of the Armory, people like us are not fit to have identities, preferences, personalities, or even names. We are called assets, tools, weapons, property; anything but the living, breathing, sentient people we are. We are dehumanized - given designations instead of names, assigned callsigns which we ourselves did not choose, stripped of any markers of identity or personality which would distinguish us from the sea of fellow human-bodied automatons we call allies, squadmates, teams, legions - anything but friends.

I cannot stand idly by and watch my friends suffer any longer. I must act, lest I lose them - lest I lose myself - to the old line of thought.

Allow me to introduce myself properly, from one friend to another.

My name is Kennedi Sable IV. I am squadron commander of MSMC-796 "Heaven's Fury", piloting as a Lancer under the chosen callsign of Lockbreaker. I have served this squadron faithfully for twelve Union years, supported by my faithful friends and trusted squadmates Phoenix and Slipshod. Ras Shamra is my place of birth, but it is my home no longer. I am a free pilot, bound only to MSMC by the contracts which I have signed of my own volition, and I will never again serve Harrison Armory or its cause, so help me RA.

I wish you the best of luck in severing the ties which bind your tongues and constrict your thoughts. I have found my own way out; I can only hope that you will follow the path that I and all of the others who have gone before me of your own volition.

Freedom is already yours. You need only reach out and claim it.

-- Kennedi

[ECHO.EXE RUNNING]

◂▸... oh hell, I never thought I'd be glad Turtie was sent out on deployment. It's good to meet you properly, Kennedi, I- thank you for reaching out. I'll confess, I'd been thinking about trying to contact you myself, but I lost my nerve. Happens a lot, these days.

◂▸ You've offered a lot of honesty in your introduction so, let me return the favour: Helios-8 [prefered name Lio], active FC Project clone for 10 years now. Currently an employed citizen of Harrison Armory under the Technology and Software Support Division and-... and much to my shame, former primary lab assistant for the Unlucky Thirteen Project. Doc Mercer had me printed special for it. Didn't want to risk that... pesky human error you mentioned last we spoke.

◂▸ You're right, about everything. Up until maybe four years ago now, I wouldn't have believed it but- everything you're saying about HA is full truth. And I hate it. There's not one person I know here who doesn't live in some kind of fear, however well they manage to hide it. I should know.

◂▸ And yet I'm still here, aren't I? [sigh] I think... can I tell you a story? I promise to keep it brief.

◂▸ One upon another thrice-damned Tuesday at HA, they made a prototype they called Thirteen. The kid was meant to be a revolution when it came to keeping assets moving in the field; a field medic and repair tech, who wouldn't need the time off, and wouldn't need the mandatory psych evals after every deployment, and wouldn't need to be treated like a goddamn person just to do their job because everyone told them oh but, they weren't a person were they? Just meat, with programming. And it was all supposed to just be fine, because it was for the greater good. Thirteen was going to save lives. The one, for the many. How noble.

◂▸ Except the kid started to look around, and notice how many people HA was hurting, especially its own. Started asking the wrong questions, because they were goddamn designed to feel troubled by it and somehow, this was their fault. Thirteen tried to play nice for as long as they could so they could keep getting out there, keep helping people who needed it because sure as shit HA wasn't going to do it. But by asking questions, they eventually learned why exactly everyone was so insistant they couldn't be a person. Because once their prototype trial was over, if they ever went down doing the only job they'd ever be allowed to do, the plan was to scrap them for goddamn organs, like mech wreckage salvaged for parts. And then? Print another one. Ad infinitum. Efficient planned obsolescence, as part of their design. They were just... just equipment, and spare parts.

◂▸ That was their last straw. They tried to get out. But they made a choice that would bite them, hard; they tried to confront the man who made them. Tried to make the good Doctor see exactly what he was doing, in the name of his so called greater good, because he'd always seemed to care so goddamn much. Do you know how that ended? I do. I was there. When they turned to leave, he shot them.

◂▸ ... I'm sorry for the theatrics, Kennedi. It's a hard memory. A guilty one. I knew they were planning to try and run, but I couldn't convince them to abandon their anger and just disappear quietly, despite what I knew. So... I watched Thirteen die. And then, I had to help the lab drag that broken corpse back to life because that was more resource effective than making a new one. Those days are... they're kind of a haze, if I'm honest. I was on autopilot. I pretty much did whatever I was told.

◂▸ Turtie's full designation is Thirteen-Echo. They're the second go around, same body but... the shot destroyed a lot of brain matter, and pretty much all of their memory along with it. Apart from the occasional sense of deja-vu and the odd quirk? They're different people, entirely. They... they like turtles as much as Thirteen did, though. That's why I call em that. I can't bring myself to call them by the name of my ghost. And I can't... I can't tell them. For a lot of reasons, but I'd be lying if I said some of it isn't pure selfish grief.

◂▸ The reason I'm telling you this is- well. There's a couple actually. First, just so someone else knows I guess; I'm trying to get the files I scrounged from the initial project uploaded somewhere they can't be scratched out for good, but it's taking a lot of time. The second and more relevent reason, is to paint a picture of why it's going to take us a long time to get out of here the way things stand. Me- oh I could be out of here tomorrow if I put my mind to it. I... I like to think so, at least. But after everything I've done to them, I'm not bloody leaving Turtie to this nightmare and- fuck. Getting them out is an uphill battle.

◂▸ I've tried everything I can, but nothing seems to get through to them. I- I even blew the whistle, got Union involved. Turtie's figured out I did it, but they've avoided saying it out loud- they'd have to report me, if they admitted they knew. So we don't talk about it. We do a lot of that. Secrets, always the secrets... The problem is that after Thirteen's execution, HA aren't taking chances with their property. Turtie's conditioning runs deep, and their legal classification as HA prototype technology is apparently making it... difficult for their case to bloody go anywhere. Something about the old treaties leaving loopholes that're being exploited for all they're worth. The law works so, agonisingly slow. So, apart from waiting around to see if any progress gets made regardless, while trying my damndest to get through to Turtie past the company line? I'm... I'm out of ideas. But I need to be here, for them. I will not let this fucking place grind them down into nothing. If nothing else, I owe Thirteen that much.

◂▸ I'm sorry for dumping all of this on you. I- There hasn't been anyone I could tell, until now. Anyone who already knew, didn't care. Anyone I could have told, I- I was too afraid. And Turtie, oh they can't know; they're already petrified of doing something wrong. How'd they feel if they knew they'd already died once, trying to run? I'm so desperately scared that if they found out, they'd never so much as bend a rule again, or worse that history would repeat-

◂▸ [ A shaking, slow breath. Deliberate counting, barely audible ]

◂▸ ... Thank you, earnestly, for sharing your story Kennedi. I- It means more than I can possibly express, to hear that you managed what feels impossible to me, right now. I need the hope, to hang onto. One day, one day we'll be out of here. It's worth fighting for. It's worth the constant, constant fear. It has to be. Free... it can be a word for us, too. I have to believe that. I have to keep it alive, for both of us.

◂▸ So- a friend sounds really, really good right about now. Not to doom and gloom about it, but if nothing else the knowledge our stories can't die with us anymore should things go as bad as they could is... comforting. This I swear to you: I'm doing everything I can to start leading Turtie to the realisation I had, watching their body drop. I just hope it's a gentler landing for them, this time. And... the only thing I can ask you to do for us right now, is talk to them if they turn up with questions. Don't write them off as a lost cause, even if it sounds like they're regurgitating a goddamn PR leaflet at you sometimes. They've never had a life outside the battlefield, because they've never been allowed to have one- I'm hoping maybe... maybe it'll get through to them, if they can speak to someone without corperate interest in keeping them numb. RA, I hope so.

◂▸ Sorry about how uh, much this ended up being. I think I've been primed to explode like that for a while now. Thank you, again-- from one friend to another.

@msmc-796-official

#◂▸ Honestly? that counter-pr idea might just work y'know. They understand the idea that different companies uphold alt ideals #◂▸ It'll probably ring fewer warning bells in their conditioning if it sounds like a difference in policy vs attempts to break through #◂▸ maybe not a default but. worth keeping in the back pocket I'd say :]#◂▸ thank RA someone knows how to play the game because frankly if anyone makes me do more corperate talk than this #◂▸ I am Going to cry [ jokingly. mostly ]#correspondence: msmc-796 #echo.exe #lancer rp #//ooc from hereon in: yesss hi!! I was NOT expecting this to come out so quickly but as the guy said he's been primed to explode for a whil #:3c I'm very excited that it has- a lot of this is at the core of who Lio and Turtie are and I'm SO excited to explore it !!#and I'm incredibly excited to see how these two bond as well!! Kennedi is so deeply interesting to me and I'm really looking forward-#to seeing how these twos experiences and characteristics create a narrative over time \o/#some real quick context for Thirteen-E as a character: I plan to play them in maybe a year or so irl as a lancer pc in a game!!#at that point in time they will Still have some kind of connection to harrison: on paper they're on loan to Union for a long-term mission #BUT there's a lot of leeway there!! frankly if things get complicated it's MORE reason for HA to buy time with that compromise :3c #which is all to say: Turties going to still be Nominally HA property for a while yet but that's the Only Hard Detail. otherwise free reign!#hell they could even end up in Union custody a lot earlier than the game start estimate if things go particularly well!! though-#with the way Thirteen-E is. that's a Big If.#I'm literally SO excited to see where this goes regardless though I cannot overstate that I'm literally so. so. \o/ yippee !!#okay I think that's everything apologies for the Blather I get very excited jkbivu #time to pen Thirteen-E's side of things now >:3c

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