#THERE WAS A LITERAL FALL PREVIEW AT BATH AND BODY WORKS-

[xx-key-xx]

Another Trashy Shopping Haul <3

[harrieatthemet]

Mustache

He has never been keen on sharing. 

And Gemma’s mere existence, as well as the small indent on her left thumb she swears is a scar (though Harry vehemently denies it is), is living proof. 

Mr Ducky was his favorite bath time companion for a good bulk of his childhood. There were even times he’d carry it around with him in the house tied to a string like a pet, one of Anne’s fondest memories and favorite stories to tell whenever she found the opportunity. 

Maybe it was Gemma’s own fault; she was only six at the time and was foolishly under the impression that the stupid rubber toy was at anyone’s disposal, which is what led her to try and situate the duck in her backpack as she geared up for school. 

It’s also what led her to tears because Harry caught her on the way out the front door, Mr Ducky in tow, and he instinctively sunk his teeth right into the side of her hand in protest. And, okay fine, he may have bit down a little harder than he should have, but the overall message he was sending came across very clear. Gemma never touched anything he owned again for a very, very, long time; and eventually went on to tell everyone in her class she had a vampire as a brother. 

“What do we think of this little number,” your hip jut, innocent as it was, just now became a permanent memory in Harry’s brain, “too much, like.. revealing?”

You like nice in red; devilish, even, and in the best way possible. There’s nothing revealing about the dress at all. Somehow, though, he finds himself perched squeamishly at the foot of your bed in complete fucking anguish. In theory, no, the dress is not too much. It’s the perfect ensemble and flatters you so well he feels like whoever made the dress conjured it up with you specifically in mind. 

And no, it’s not too much, for literally anyone else except him. How is such a modest dress enough for him to think you up the way he is right now; bent over in front of him with your hair wrapped tightly up in his palm while that dress lays in a sloppy ball by his feet. 

“Would be nice with nude shoes,” he mules, “like, those sandals y’ave, yeah?” 

The way your eyes light up, that same way they always do when your mind starts to move at light’s speed as you start assembling a million different ideas into one, is enough to tug a grin onto his mouth. 

He didn’t really want to agree to this. When you texted first to ask he ignored it, that way you’d have just carried on without him and he could blame a busy schedule or an overrun nap on his delayed response time. It’s much easier to blame a missed text for no response. Of course it’s not in your nature to send a text, and he knew that already. So it came a son surprise when he was bombarded by 4 phone calls. By the fifth one he had picked up, succumbing to you and just the flat out unfulfilled urge he had to hear your voice at the other end of the phone.

“Seriously Harry,” your voice is like fucking honey, sweet and sullen like it always is, and he’s in euphoria listening to it as you poke your earring through the lobe of your left ear, “it’s just, y’know I don’t- I’m nervous and I appreciate you helping me do something as stupid as picking a dress.” 

“S’not stupid,” he reassures, “y’know I just like spending time with yeh, since y’so busy ’n stuff.”

Which is true. That’s the only thing that got him over here; and he rescheduled a zoom call just to sit in your bedroom for all of twenty minutes. Not one part of him regretted it, either.

“I’m busy?” You tease, “coming from the A lister who’s in London, than LA, than New York, London again, oh, than LA again oh, then ‘sorry love, m’in Tokyo.’”

Also true, he knows that, which is why he’s snickering at fault in response to your harmless teasing. He wouldn’t say it now, mainly because he doesn’t want to make it weird, but regardless of where he falls on the map he somehow still finds a way to fit you in. He’s never minded doing it, either. 

Twenty minutes isn’t enough. Maybe another twenty more could be a sufficient amount. That’s almost an hour, right? Forty minutes is almost a full hour with you and he’d love to get even that much. Or twenty more hours, even, would be that much better. It’s better for him to think of getting more time with you than to let his thoughts wander and remind him of where you’re getting ready to go off to. 

A date. It’s why he was so hesitant to come here. It’s hard enough as it is being a prisoner to his own thoughts, being around you and not getting to interact with you the way he actually wants; kiss you the way he wants, touch you the way he wants, hold you and talk to you the way he wants. Adding a new element to the mix, another man getting access to you the way he wants, well that’s just mental warfare. 

You don’t know anything about though. And thank God, because if you could get a peak into his thoughts and see just a preview of what he thinks he almost knows for sure you’d ice him out in a heartbeat. He’s got a soft spot for you, nonetheless, which is why he swallowed the massive-sized lump in his throat when you told him you needed help on an outfit for a date and b lined it over to your place.

“Who’s this guy, anyways.” He chimes, following you similar to that of a lost puppy as you start heading towards the staircase, “Like, wha’s he look like ’n stuff.”

Immediately after he asks he wishes he hadn’t. The way that pesky fucking lump reappears when you wiggle your eyebrows in response, stuffing your hand into your leather purse in an attempt to fish out your phone. A simple response like ‘handsome’ or ‘he’s a nice guy’ would’ve sufficed for him. Seriously, that’s all he needed. What he didn’t need was an entire fucking slideshow of an above average looking guy. And he had a cool mustache, to boot, which really pissed Harry off for some reason. 

“Should probably shave,” he squints his eyes at the photo you’ve got propped right in front of his face, trying his hardest to act like he isn’t so fucking jealous of that mustache, “kinda looks like a squirrel on his top lip."

“If I didn’t know you so well,” you tut teasingly, “I’d think you’re a dick.”

“You know me so well and still don’t think that?” 

He likes the way your laugh sounds, and it makes him happy that he said something amusing enough to drag it out of you. And the toothy smile you pair with it practically knocks the wind right out of him. Everything you do seems to wow him, corny as it sounds. It makes him feel so at ease, and the butterflies he gets each time gets him reminiscing to the days where he was just a kid and had the worlds biggest crush on the girl who sat three rows ahead of him in grade school. He’s giddy and he doesn’t want you to leave for this date. 

For a second he thinks about doing something elaborate; breaking his foot or faking an illness so that you literally have no choice but to hang back and look after him. That’s selfish though, and honestly just crazy and super fucked up, so he opts out of that. But he doesn’t want you to go so bad he seriously considers it, especially as you start sorting through the downstairs closet to find a coat that doesn’t clash with your shoes. 

He could just be honest. He could just tell you that he doesn’t want you to go, solely because he’s absolutely infatuated with you and for every hour he’s awake and functioning you manage to consume every thought he has. He could just be an adult and tell you he’s got feelings for you that very much surpass a platonic, friendly demeanor. That might be a better way into persuading you to stay back with him than breaking his fucking foot. 

“Ok now wait a minute,” he chokes, and there’s a painful twang that strikes his gut when you frown, “gotta tell y’somethin’.” 

“What,” you groan, and he swears he would rather die right now than do anything else, “it’s the shoes, right? They make my calves look like I’m a running back don’t they?” 

He wants to laugh but he thinks if he opens his mouth he would projectile vomit everywhere. But the thought occurs to him that if he does that than it would be an excellent excuse for you to skip the date. Though, of course, he runs the risk of grossing you out and absolutely humiliating himself all in one go of it. 

So he shakes his head no. In fact he loves the shoes, and they make your ankles look slender and really compliment your legs quite nicely. Still, he’s scrambling to string together a coherent sentence because his brain is working a lot faster than the muscles in his mouth are and it feels like someone just super glued his lips shut.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” you tease, and the cheeky wink you shoot him over your shoulder just edges him even more if that’s possible at this point, “Styles.”

“I don’t want y’to go on this date, (Y/N).” 

He’s well aware that he blurted that out in a way that he really, really, wish he hadn’t. Now the air in the room is stale and heavy, dense too, like someone just sucked all the air out and left the two of you here with nothing to inhale but words and unspecified tension. 

And he’s starting to get more anxious as your playful manner dissipates. He can tell your puzzled not just be the demeanor of your face, but by the stance of your body because your letting shoulders hang the way you do when you’re a little uncomfortable. 

“Oh,” you breath, and his chest starts sinking inward, “okay, I just- well why not? Do I not.. like, do I look bad or something?”

“No,” he coos, and he feels like the worlds biggest asshole when you start to frown, “No y’don’t- Christ, (Y/N) y’look amazing. Y’always look so fuckin’ amazing. It’s just-”

“What,” you huff, “than what is it, than? Why wouldn’t you want me to go?”

He’s really done it now. The proper thing to do would’ve just been to let you go, walk out with you and watch you drive off before he headed home himself. The proper thing to do would’ve been for him to just go home and think about you on a date with someone other than himself, curled up in a ball watching a Friends episode he’s already seen four times while he felt sorry for himself. But that’s not what happened, and what he should’ve done was just broke the fucking foot like he initially thought to do. That would’ve been less agonizing than this. 

“Because,” he’s frustrated now, not with you but really just himself, “I should be taking y’out. M’absolutely in love with yeh, (Y/N), and I don’t have a cool mustache but I could take y’out on a date, ’n I want to so bad.” 

There’s still that dense energy looming in the room, and his gut now too as he feels it winding up tightly in an anxious bundle of knots and twists. You’re not saying anything and the only thing he notices is that you’re breathing is vaguely staggered and your clutching onto that purse in your hand like he’s about to snatch it and run off. God, he should’ve just broken the foot!

“Please don’t go out wit him,” and now, his voice is small, “think it might kill me.”

[houseof-harry]

So can we get an entanglement blurb? 😂😂😂 (No seriously can we?) Imagine saying you are having/had an an entanglement with someone to your friend and you say it in front of hatefuck!Grayson?? Like... Imagine how mad he would get? How petty he would be? Oof I can imagine him trying to make you jealous and him hatefucking YN. Oooh im getting ahead of myself 🔥🔥🔥🔥😈

Ngl it’s hard for me to write this without revealing stuff from part 2 so I’m gonna do my best (also this will probs be a bit of a preview for part 2 I might just put it in who knows I need to plan better but I won’t ANYWAYS).

It’s like two weeks after your little getaway and everyone’s hanging at your friends pool. You’re chatting with everyone about your weekends, what happened, who went where, who did what. Or who did who, in your case.

You were telling them about the guy you had met at the bar, with the big muscles, the tan skin, the tattoos, the beard. To be honest, when Grayson heard you talking about him for a moment he couldn’t even blame you for fucking the guy and being so proud about it. But then he remember it was you talking, and he instantly felt his blood pressure rise.

“His hands were just so...big. And his hand print was bruised on me literally until this morning.”

All the girls around you giggle, ignoring Grayson gloomy presence as he wafted in the water closer and closer, trying to seem as casual as possible with his back turned to you all.

“Oh my god and the way he just man handle me, he picked me up without even batting an eye. It was fucking amazing.”

“Ugh, you’re really out here living the dream,” Mila sighs out, a pout adorning her lips.

“For real, Y/N, you gotta give us all the tips,” Jas adds, a knowing smirk on her face. You roll your eyes before looking at the other girls again.

Before you can respond with anything, Ethan is announcing dinner and the girls are dispersing. You decide to float around for a few minutes alone, wanting the space before you’re back at the dinner table with everyone.

“So he’s got nice hands?”

You jump and cover your mouth, fear shooting through your body for a moment as you turn to see Grayson in the water with you.

“Jesus fucking christ you dick. How long have you been stalking me?”

He rolls his eyes, sinking into the water so that just his neck and head are above it. “It’s a small ass pool, I’m not stalking you.”

You huff, looking over to see all of your friends starting to get there food and sit around the table that’s blocked by the fire pit. You could see them, but they could barely see you. “Aren’t you going to eat or some shit?”

“Aren’t you?”

“God you’re annoying.” You decide to move and float on your back, closing your eyes so you can do your best to ignore him.

“Bet he didn’t make you cum as hard as I did.”

You groan, clenching your fists. “You’re such a fucking boy. Not everything is a damn competition. But, if it was, he won.”

For a minute you’re met with silence, and you think maybe he’s actually going to leave you alone.

“Liar.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, shifting your body to be upright again. You’re met with his smug face, muscles bulging as his skin drips with water from the pool. For a second you think about how he definitely looks better than the other guy would dripping wet like that, but you shut it down real fast. “First, you need to put your ego in check. This may come as a shock to you, but you’re not some god on earth. Second, stop talking about this shit while our friends are here. They don’t need to know shit happened.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I definitely don’t want them knowing I slept with the fake ass princess of town. I’m just saying it’s a shame you think you’ll ever get better dick than mine.”

“You are such a fucking dick. Like a grade A, picture perfect image of an asshole.” You start to swim to the edge, over his antics. You reach for the deck, getting ready to pull yourself out when you felt two large hands grip your waist, forcing you to stay shoulder deep in the water. You couldn’t stand here, but he could.

“Running away from your problems, like always?” His voice is right in your ears and you’re sure if you shift your head just a tiny bit you’d feel his lips there as well.

“So you finally admit you’re a problem?”

He chuckles softly, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. “Maybe. But you’re not much better.”

You cock your head to move farther from his, almost as if you’re considering his words. “Maybe,” you mock him, your muscles tensing as one of his hands slowly moves to the front of your bathing suit. His fingers dip in, quickly finding your clit and getting to work. You hate that your body naturally responds as you relax like putty in his grip, your legs spreading. “But at least I don’t have to trap random girls in a pool with me to reassure my fat fucking ego.”

He bites his lip, temporarily ignoring your words and he continues to circle your clit. He listens to your quiet whimpers as you do what you can to stay silent, both for the sake of not feeding further into his pride and to keep your activities a secret.

Soon your chest is rising and falling quickly and you’re grateful you’re in a pool because there would be no other way to explain the drips of sweat on your hairline. You can feel the fire in the pit of your stomach slowly growing, spreading throughout your entire body.

“Interesting you think you’re a random girl,” he mumbles into your ear before removing himself completely from you.

You gasp, quickly coming back to reality as your orgasm fades into the past, watching him pull himself out of the pool next to you. It should honestly be illegal how good his back looked when doing that.

He looks down at you, annoying ass smirk and all with his hands on his hips as he watches you try to process everything that just happened. “Going to eat. Or some shit.”

And with that he leaves you alone in the pool, cheeks flushed, pussy clenching and a whole lot to think about.

[k-p-p-d]

From Zero (M)

Summary: When building an empire, start from ground zero.

Warnings: mentions of/allusions to sex work/brothels, body modification, past abusive relationships, homicide, fight clubs, illegal bookkeeping, assassination, grieving, assault, robbery, hacking/invasion of privacy, L** S**nghy*n (had to be included as he is one of the main antagonists in the series)

Length: 15.5k

A/N: This has been in the making for years now, my word.  But it feels so good to finally release it to you all.  There’s a lot of tragedy befalling several of our versions of these absolute angels, so take care of yourself when reading.  Please look at the profiles for each of the members as a sort of refresher/preview to their individual backgrounds and why they come to join XX.  I know the tags seem pretty serious and heavy, but I tried to write this in such a way to where there was a balance between subtly and directness when it came to the hard parts so you would have visceral reactions but not necessarily be overwhelmed by them.  Still, take your time reading or skip this altogether— just do whatever you feel is best for you.  I love each of you as much as I love each of the boys. —Admin Lily

——————

Previously...

——————

“What are you running from?” a deep voice purred from beside him.

Kihyun stiffened at the abrupt accusation, shifting slightly in his chair to toss a cutting side eye at his accuser. “Who says I’m running?”

“You do: You can barely keep your eyes on me, which is automatically a red flag considering I am easily one of the most beautiful people you have ever seen—“

“That’s mighty cocky of you.”

“Deny it. You can’t. Anyway, you keep clenching and unclenching your fists, then slowly wiping one or the other on this very expensive velvet in an attempt to pass off drying your sweaty palms as just enjoying the tactile pleasure this fabric can bring. You haven’t touched your drink yet—which is shameful and in poor taste considering Hyeri has a gift when it comes to cocktails—and it’s blatantly obvious you would literally rather be anywhere but here, despite all the lovely company you could keep. So...what are you running from?”

“I’m not running from anything.”

“Then someone?”

Wonho smirked as Kihyun unconsciously shifted away from him, his eyes widening only a hair before narrowing slightly in suspicion. “I’m not running from anyone either,” Kihyun flatly denied.

Wonho couldn’t help but to loudly laugh, head thrown back and cheeks flushed as bright peals of laughter effortlessly punched through the thick air causing all eyes to turn toward him. At least all the eyes that weren’t already on him. “I needed that laugh, thank you,” he chuckled breathily, miming wiping away nonexistent tears from his observant eyes. “Honestly, if I didn’t know you so well, I might have believed you,”

Kihyun’s expression hardened immediately. “You don’t know me at all,” he snapped through clenched teeth.

Another smirk tugged at Wonho’s lips, this one less amused and far more devious than the other cared for. “But I do.” He gently wrapped his fingers around the tense man’s wrist before firmly yanking him up to stand as he himself gracefully rose from the armrest on which he’d been perched. “Come with me,” he hummed as he began to pull Kihyun along with him, the command simple and clear despite the soft tone he’d used.

Kihyun dug his heels into the floor as best he could. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” he growled.

“Don’t worry,” Wonho giggled, slipping his fingers down from Kihyun’s slender wrist—fingertips brushing along the tiny scar as they moved—to tightly interlace themselves with Kihyun’s fingers, “I’m fully booked tonight so this one is free of charge.” He squeezed his knuckles against the other’s and tugged once, effectively pulling the man closer to himself and shaking him off-balance enough that Kihyun had no choice except to follow behind for a few steps if he wanted to keep from falling face first. And at that point, balance finally regained, Kihyun huffed heavily in defeat and followed along compliantly.  There was no sense in playing tug-of-war with the annoyingly persistent, presumptuous man.

Wonho led them up the stairs to his own personal wing.  Turning to face the other man so he could better tangle their fingers together, he nudged open the large double doors with his back as he stepped backwards into the lush suite, dragging his prey into his den.  Immediately, they were flooded with pale amber light; Kihyun winced at the sudden change in lighting, despite the lights barely being above half their brightness.  He blinked a couple times to allow his eyes to adjust.  Once he could properly see, he gasped.  Wonho stood before him, same as ever, playful smirk still elegantly curling his plush lips and mischievous eyes still smoldering seductively; yet he was practically glowing.  The gentle lights were bathing his skin with their subtle warmth so as to shroud him in an angelic haze.  He was ’David’ come to life— a living, breathing masterpiece.  Kihyun couldn’t understand why, but suddenly he wanted to possess the man before him, body and soul and everything between.

Wonho continued to lead him further into his lair, and Kihyun could barely take in the beautiful blend of creamy linens, charcoal satins, blush silks, mauve tweeds, and golden accents swirling around them.  The lush decor and cozy coloring made Kihyun feel welcomed, warmed, whole.  It felt like he could properly breathe for the first time in his life.  He was so caught up in the airiness sweeping through his body that he didn’t realize they’d stopped moving until Wonho’s airy giggle floated through his clouded senses.  Kihyun flushed a little from embarrassment.  It wasn’t like him to zone out so completely like that; but he couldn’t help it, he was absolutely enthralled by the ethereal being before him.  

Wonho’s smirk deepened as he trailed his hand up Kihyun’s forearm and along his chest before firmly pushing him back onto the oversized bed.  Kihyun had barely bounced on the plush mattress before the beautiful man was atop him, stealing his breath away once more with his radiance.    Looking up at him, Kihyun felt as if he had just awoken to witness the dawning morning’s warm light delicately slip over the supple flesh belonging to the love of his life.  

Wonho tugged him upward by his collar to sit properly so he could swing a leg over his hips, purposefully keeping himself propped up on his knees to maintain enough space between their bodies.  It’d only be a matter of time until Kihyun was begging him to close the distance.  “Hi there,” he whispered to his enthralled prey, who could only smile dumbly back. Gently grasping the other’s wrist, he delicately ran his thumb along the tiny scar almost everyone aside from Kihyun himself never even knew existed.  “This must be from childhood,” he hummed.

Kihyun gave a noncommittal shrug, careful to keep his tone disinterested so as to not give away the fact his statement was correct, “What makes you think that?”

“I have scars like this from childhood, too.  They’re not quite as small, but they are just as smooth and lack discoloration of any kind.  You might find this very hard to believe,” he grinned, “but no one has ever guessed I had any if I didn’t tell them, even when they’re close enough to see every last hair on my body. And there’s not even much hair to begin with below my neck.”  His warm grin suddenly shifted into a predatory smirk as he purred, “Would you like to see?”

“You said this was on the house,” Kihyun huffed, internally forcing himself not to give into the beguiling man’s whims despite his body’s eager responsiveness to even just the gentlest of his touches.

“It is,” Wonho assured without missing a beat, his thumb tracing small circles along the other’s pulse point, “everything after tonight though...”

Kihyun snorted.  “You’re beautiful, but you’re not my type.”

Wonho shrugged, the least bit put off, his thumb still continuing its absentminded ministrations, “I know. You like your men tall, tanned, handsome, and mysterious. I’m really only two of those things.”  His smirk stretched into a friendly smile, “I’m just glad you’ve given up on lying to me.”

“Yes, well, it seemed a bit rude to lie to you in your home.”

“So you are observant. Very good! I like that in a partner.  You sure you don’t want to try to find my scars?” he teased.

“I’m sure,” Kihyun chuckled. Wonho’s pout at his words, as fake as Kihyun’s composure under his magnetic gaze, quickly caused him to add on, “at least not right now.”

“Well, in that case...” His voice trailed off as he slid his fingers from around the other’s slender wrist to march them up his  forearm, toward the base of his neck, before halting abruptly at the sharp corners of the collar of his dress shirt.  Leveling his most smoldering gaze at the man caught helplessly in his web, he huskily purred, “Let me search for yours.”  Leaning himself forward to crowd into the other’s space until there was barely the space of a breath between them, he tapped the forefinger of one hand at the hollow of Kihyun’s throat while slipping the other around to play with the strands of chestnut hair at the nape of his neck, which was beginning to tilt to the side just so without Kihyun even realizing. Just as Wonho had planned. “Will you let me?” he whispered against slightly parted lips.

“Yes,” came the breathy reply.

Wonho smiled softly, gracefully lowering himself fully onto his prey’s unconsciously proffered lap. Most nights he would have made a quip about whether or not the seat was taken, but he knew he didn’t have the luxury of time to really work his magic—both because he had to attend to a regular in a half hour and because he knew it was only a matter of minutes before Kihyun’s mind kicked back into gear and forced him out of this blissful trance.  No matter, though; Wonho knew exactly where to look.  Ghosting his lips along Kihyun’s razor sharp jawline, he pressed phantom kisses upward onto his cheek, onto his temple, and across his forehead only to begin his descent down the opposite side of his face until his lips hovered over his left ear.  Unable to resist the urge, he toyed with the piercings along the man’s ear with his teeth and tongue before pressing his lips right behind the pierced lobe.  

There it was.

Wonho smiled to himself as he pressed a tender kiss to the barely raised flesh.  Pulling back just enough to line his lips along the curve of Kihyun’s ear, he hummed softly in a teasing yet triumphant breath, “I found it.”

Kihyun’s eyes flew open as panic flooded his system.  He dug his blunted nails into the supple flesh of the other’s firm thighs, earning him merely a giggle in response. “Who are you?” he growled coldly.

Wonho pulled back to look him in his eyes, which were narrowed into the thinnest slits possible yet were still wide enough to allow the fires of fury roaring behind his hardened gaze to be clearly seen.  Wonho’s smile grew wider as he reached down to grab one of the panicked man’s hands before leading it to press firmly against his right hip. “I’m one of his dolls, too.”

Kihyun’s grip only tightened as he hissed, “Who do you work for?”  

Wonho sighed heavily, disappointment clear in his tone as he swiftly pried the other’s hands off him.  “As much as I love being manhandled, I can’t have any bruises on me just yet, babe.”  He surged forward suddenly to press the bewildered yet still furious man beneath him, clamping his own vice-like grip on Kihyun’s wrists before stretching his arms as far above his head as they could go to effectively render him helpless.  “Daddy hates when his baby has a mark from someone else.”  Dipping his head down, he breathed in the softest yet raspiest of whispers one of his own many secrets, “Daddy’s why I’m one of Lee’s little dolls.  See, I had a birthmark on my hip. It wasn’t big by any means, it was actually pretty cute.  I liked it.  But Daddy? Well, he’s very possessive.  I tried to tell him it was just a birthmark, but he didn’t believe me.  He thought someone else had broken me in before him, and that made him very angry.  After all, he paid very good money to be my first proper patron.  So he demanded that Cerise have me—what was the word he used? Oh that’s right—‘decontaminated’ immediately or he’d have no choice but to cancel his membership, which she certainly couldn’t have since that meant she’d have to refund him for every single visit plus his membership fee.  It was fortunate she had the best plastic surgeon in the nation on retainer, don’t you think?  Lee came—not in the fun way—that very same night, took one look at my hip, and immediately set to work to remove my ‘only flaw,’ as he said.  In its stead, he left his calling card, this tiny ‘ㅈ’—too small for even Daddy to see—that forever marks me as his doll. Just like you, Kihyun.”

“I never told you my name,” Kihyun snapped.

Wonho smirked at him, “You didn’t, but you had to tell Cerise and Cerise tells me everything.”

“What does she want from me?”

Wriggling his hips back just enough so he could rest his head on his trapped prey’s chest, he hummed, “She doesn’t want anything but your money from you, don’t worry.  I just find you incredibly intriguing.”

Kihyun huffed a sarcastic “thank you,” earning him a quick bite to the base of his neck with an accompanying sensual, teasing grind against his suddenly very interested dick.  A lethal combination that had him struggling to fight off the immediate haze of lust clouding his senses.  “What do you want from me?” he  growled through clenched teeth.

Leaning up a little to look the other man directly in his eye, Wonho took a moment to carefully consider his own desires, something he’d gotten out of the habit of doing too often over the years.  “You are an exceptionally ambitious man, Kihyun,” he began, “dangerously so.  Your ambition and drive made you some powerful enemies over the years, the ones you’ve been running from since before you were even one of Lee’s dolls.  Yet, it’s also made you some very powerful allies, like the ones you work for now.  But as with all those with great ambition, what you have now will never be enough, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise.  There will come a time when you will have to decide what your legacy will be.  All I ask is that I’m a part of that legacy.”

A long silence stretched between them as his words settled into the air around them before Kihyun spoke, choosing only to ask simply, “Why?”

“I have ambitions, too.  Maybe not as great as yours, but still greater than anyone else here.  I believe you’re the key to making them happen.  So I’m offering myself and my skills to you. You’ve seen only a fraction of what I can do in our regrettably short time together this evening.  More than that, I know the darkest secrets of the most powerful people in the nation.  I could even tell you some highly classified information that’s been let slip around me in moments of weakness, thanks to the atmosphere of ease and vulnerability I provide. The very same one you fell victim to tonight.  Imagine having an upperhand like that on your side.  There would be nothing and no one standing in your way.  Tempting, isn’t it?” He finally released his grip on the other’s wrists and slid off his lap before extending a hand to Kihyun to help him up off the bed.  

Leading him to his door, Wonho clarified, “You don’t have to give me an answer tonight, or any time soon really.  But just remember...”  Wonho maintained eye contact as he crowded into Kihyun’s space, hands coming up to caress his cheek and slip through his hair so he could pull him closer and closer until his lips were ghosting over the other’s as he spoke, “I know your darkest secrets, too.”  With that, he crashed his lips against Kihyun’s in a passionate, soul-shaking, bruising kiss that left Kihyun feeling both thoroughly devoured yet insatiably hungry for the beguiler when they finally broke apart.  “Do not make me your enemy, Yoo Kihyun,” Wonho rasped in warning before unceremoniously shoving the bewildered man out into the corridor.

Kihyun stumbled a little before finding himself slumped against the wall, breathing heavy as his mind swam with a million different thoughts.  He almost didn’t hear the lighthearted “First time?” tossed in his direction.  He glanced up only to find one of the highest ranking generals in all of the armed forces smirking knowingly at him.  For some reason, the sight of him made his skin crawl as a whisper of jealousy floated across his heart.  Was this the imbecile who had forced the marring of the breathtakingly beautiful man?  Kihyun couldn’t understand why he felt such a possessive urge overtake him, so he forced himself to bow in a customary show of respect as he answered curtly yet somehow politely, “Yes, sir, it was.”

“Ah, he has that effect on people,” the general chuckled.  “Thankfully, I’ve trained my baby boy enough that his stamina could outlast that of even ten of my best men.”  

Kihyun clenched his fists tightly to keep himself from brandishing his switchblade.  Wonho was decidedly not his in any way, yet he just could not shake his need to make this smug swine pay for what he’d done to him.  Slowly straightening up, he let his own smirk pull at his lips, responding mockingly, “Thank you for your service.  I would’ve thanked him for his, too, but he insisted tonight was on the house.  Something about needing a break from old,” he stressed the word heavily, “routine.  Please tell him I’d love to see him again if he gets tired of the usual.”  With that, Kihyun bowed his farewell before turning on his heel to leave before his murderous urges overtook him.

————————————

Hyunwoo was a man of few words, had always been preternaturally quiet as a child.  His mother used to worry that, despite doing her absolute best to be as careful and protective of him as possible, something had happened to him when she had carried him in her womb. She would toss and turn, night after night, wondering why her precious bundle of joy made no noise save for his soft snores when he napped and the tiniest grunts when he wiggled, crawled, or waddled to and fro.  His father, who had written him off as defective, hardly paid any attention to him—too busy trying to convince his mother to have “a redo” to make up for him.  His mother would refuse, argue back that she couldn’t possibly bring another child into this world if she was the cause for her firstborn’s muteness.  “Just let me fix him first,” she had pleaded with tears in her eyes and a rough, urgent edge to her voice. “I have to try.” And so she tried, tried her absolute hardest for the first few years of his life to get him to make some noise, be it a little giggle or coo, even a cry or yell.  Nothing seemed to work.  Pushed to the end of her rope, she held him tighter than normal one night and softly sobbed into his hair, “Mommy is so sorry, baby, so sorry for whatever she did to you when you weren’t here in her arms.  I know you don’t understand me but I just hope some day you can forgive Mommy for hurting you.  She didn’t mean to, and she wishes she could take it back.”

She was wrong. He understood her perfectly.  He always had and always would because he knew her, had been carefully watching her since the day he first opened his eyes.  He might not have known the best words to say to comfort her, but he tried his best as he slipped his little arms around her neck and whispered, “It’s okay, Mommy, you didn’t hurt me. I’m okay so you have to be okay, too.”

Hyunwoo couldn’t forget the look in her eye as she pulled back to stare wide-eyed at him in bewilderment, relief, elation, sadness, pain, and love. He would never forget it because it was the same look she gave him on the night she died… The same night he stumbled into the police station, swollen hands hanging heavy by his side as his knuckles—skin split open enough to show slivers of bone—dripped with blood, a mix of his own and his father’s.  “I need to report a murder,” he had quietly stated.  He hadn’t said much since then, all those weeks ago.  It was a very open-and-shut case, the public defender had told him: Between his confession to beating his father to death after he caught him in the midst of slamming his mother’s head against the floor and the evidence that further supported his confession, there was little left to do but await sentencing.  He didn’t even blink when he was told he was looking at life in prison, maybe even being placed on death row despite the national moratorium.  As far as he was concerned, he died the moment he watched the light fade from his mother’s beautiful brown eyes as he held her cold body in his arms.

So it came as a surprise when a guard—a former fan of his he’d recognized from seeing at a few of his fights—roused him from his sleep the night before his sentencing hearing.  “You have a visitor.”

Hyunwoo slowly rolled himself up onto his feet, wrists awaiting to be shackled once more held out before him.  He followed the guard to an interrogation room. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion as the guard ushered him into the room, instructing him to sit in the steel chair opposite the two-way mirror.  Once seated, the guard deftly did away with the too-small handcuffs with a terse warning of “don’t make me regret this, Son,” before he exited the room leaving a guarded Hyunwoo to scrutinize the mirror.

A few uncomfortably long moments passed until the door finally opened again.  Hyunwoo’s head snapped immediately toward it to find a strange man dressed in a finely tailored suit, the sharp lines of the suit seeming dulled compared to razored edge of his jawline and the sharp lines and angles of his deceptively oval face. Stranger still, despite the fact he had never seen this man before, Hyunwoo felt a weird sense of familiarity with him.  Carefully, he watched as the man gracefully slid into chair directly in front of him.  Another moment passed as the two men simply stared at each other—one with great apprehension, the other with something akin to bemusement—until the strangely familiar man at last opened his mouth to speak.  “You’re still as golden as ever,” he greeted warmly, “내 금은 곰.”

Hyunwoo froze in shock.  There was only one person in the entire world who had ever called him that, someone he had long thought to be dead.  He couldn’t possibly— This man couldn’t possibly be him. But yet...no one else could have possibly known that nickname.  “You—?”

“Yeah,” the man huffed out a laugh as he undid the cuffs on his left sleeve to show his wrist, “me.”

Hyunwoo blinked.  Then blinked again as another long, silent moment stretched between them, his eyes boring heavily into the puckered flesh nestled along the side of his wrist.  That tiny, little jagged scar—barely a couple centimeters long—dragged forth years and years of countless memories of a childhood long-forgotten amidst the chaos of growing up and the pains that came with it.  Hyunwoo flicked his gaze upward to search the man’s face.  His features were...different, not the kind of different that came with puberty but a different kind of different—one that only came at the sharpened edge of surgeon’s scalpel: The nose was too narrow, the cheekbones too high, the chin a bit too pointed, the forehead too small. This wasn’t his best friend’s face at all. But the eyes... Those eyes were still the same.  Gaze always sharp and alert despite the lively flicker of mischief dancing just beneath the depths, yet a tenderness and warmth ever-present if one knew where to look.  Maybe this was an odd request of him to make but fuck it, he reasoned internally as he commanded simply, “Smile.”  

Now it was his visitor’s turn to blink, confusion clear all over his too-foreign face.  “What?”

“Please,” Hyunwoo added gently, “I just...I need to make sure.”  

The man, still clearly confused, acquiesced with a nod of his head and smiled wide.  And there it was:  No matter how exceptional of a job his surgeon had done concealing his identity beneath these new features, he could never get rid of the way his eyes would soften as they collapsed into the thinnest crescent moons this side of a new moon.  Overwhelmed in a flurry of emotion he hadn’t known he could or would ever feel again after everything that’d happened, Hyunwoo lunged across the table to envelop his long-lost friend into the tightest hug he could, the squeeze of his arms mirroring the squeeze of his heart now caught in his throat.  “Kihyun,” he quietly rumbled, voice too raw with emotion to speak at any volume higher than that.

Only disoriented for a brief moment, Kihyun relaxed into the hug with a breathy sigh, his own arms doing their best to wrap around the broad form of his childhood friend.  They stayed locked in their tight embrace for what felt like hours, though it couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, before Hyunwoo released him.  Kihyun almost shivered at the sudden loss of warmth that had surrounded him mere seconds ago.  Sitting back down, they continued to stare at each other in a comfortable yet heavy silence.  A vast array of questions floated in the air above them just out of reach, yet neither knew which one to pluck down first to present to the other.  Not to mention, they weren’t in the most ideal location to have such a heartfelt conversation.  So Kihyun, glancing at the dismal worn-down stone walls around them, cleared his throat before beginning, “I was able to pull a few strings to get you out of here.”

Hyunwoo, shrewd as ever, narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  “But?” he prompted.

Kihyun grinned sheepishly.  “Good news is the case against you has been dropped completely and your record totally expunged, so you are a free man in the eyes of the law.”

“But,” Hyunwoo prompted again much firmer this time.

“But the bad news is you aren’t a free man in the eyes of my bosses.”  The sharp look he earned at his decidedly tactful way at breaking the news to his friend spurred him on to explain, “They want you to work for them.  Like, work work for them.”  Hyunwoo blinked at him.  Kihyun kept talking, “It’d mostly be security.  Like accompanying me to meetings, overseeing shift changes, bodyguarding a  few mid-level members, other things of the like. You wouldn’t have t—“

“I’ll do whatever I need to do to repay my debt,” Hyunwoo interjected firmly.  “Please inform your bosses of my decision and relay my deepest sincerities to them.”

Kihyun coughed a little awkwardly, “About that—“  Hyunwoo rose from his chair abruptly, the sound of the chair legs scratching across the floor echoed harshly off the stone walls.  He took a couple steps forward toward the two-way mirror.  “What are you doing?”  Ignoring Kihyun’s question, Hyunwoo lifted his arms high above his head before slowly lowering onto to his knees and bending forward until his forehead and palms rested against the ground.  

He stayed perfectly still in his bow for a period of time, well after the door opened and another exceptionally composed man strode into the room until he stopped before him.  “I expect your loyalty and your life,” came the softly murmured edict.  Despite the quietness of the deep baritone voice, Hyunwoo could feel and hear the man’s power clearly in the words.

Hyunwoo lifted his forehead off the ground just barely enough so his voice wouldn’t be muffled as he pledged, “Please consider them yours.”

The man didn’t respond; instead, he simply turned on his heel and left.  It wasn’t until Kihyun reached down to pat his shoulder that Hyunwoo finally lifted himself off the floor.  His friend smiled at him, his eyes sparkling bright with happiness as he lightly punched him on the shoulder.  “Way to show me up there, man,” he teased.  “I had to grovel for them to even consider it; and here you go, proving me right.”  Hyunwoo rolled his eyes and reached down to flick him square in the forehead.  New face or not, years apart or not, Kihyun still huffed indignantly at the flick just like Hyunwoo knew he would.  “I literally save your ass and this is how you repay me? Ungra—“

“I’ll buy you dinner if you shut up.”

“...Deal.  But I get to pick the place.”

Hyunwoo knew a trap when he saw one. “We’re not going to any expensive places, Yoo Kihyun, so don’t try it.”

“Well then what’s the fucking point of offering to buy my dinner?” Kihyun snapped with a scowl. “And it’s not like your cheap ass is broke either.”

Hyunwoo blinked at him before pulling his friend into another tight hug.  “Thank you,” he breathed gently, “for everything.”

All the fight left Kihyun’s body as he hugged his dear friend in return, “Don’t mention it.”

“I’ve missed you,” Hyunwoo admitted easily, letting him go.  

Kihyun, tactful as ever, shrugged, “Come on, I’m starving and I’m sick of looking at these walls.  We can catch up after you buy me dinner and dessert.”

“Kihy—“

“Nope, I saved your life. You owe me!”

————————————

Kihyun fought to maintain his composure as Kwon Jiyong, second-most powerful man on the peninsula, morosely slid his (rather outstanding, if he said so himself) monthly earnings report to the side of his desk.  Bracing himself, Kihyun waited expectantly for the shoe to drop.  Sure, he’d heard the rumors from the underlings, but he hadn’t fully believed them since he was certain the big boss wasn’t a proper fool, despite being foolish enough to get involved with a self-obsessed twat. “We’ve decided to go in a different direction,” Kwon tersely supplied, “and this path no longer includes you or your services.  We will honor the original agreement with regards to your severance as long as the conditions we agreed upon are upheld.”

Well, Kihyun stood corrected.  Kwon was a proper fool after all.  At least he didn’t give him a bullshit excuse as to why he was terminating the very lucrative fight club Kihyun had so viciously (literally and figuratively) fought to establish in the first place.  Not that Kihyun needed one.  He was more than aware of what the real reason was.

He wasn’t stupid—far from it.  He’d seen the termination coming from twenty kilometers away.  Always aware that one day his time with the Headmasters would end, he had hustled his ass off so when the day came, he had a name and reputation off which to build his own empire.  He just hadn’t expected the day to come so soon, let alone over a fucking moron’s insecurity.  Spite, he could handle.  Hell, jealousy, he could even admire.  But insecurity?  Even with the head of the most powerful syndicate in the region being so grossly and unfathomably infatuated with one so far below their usual standards?  Pathetic.

It was a miracle that Kihyun managed to keep his voice calm (even respectful) as he bowed deeply before his now-former boss—a seemingly respectable man he had once admired but had now come to pity—and somberly spoke, “I understand.  Thank you for all that you have done for me.  It is truly a shame our partnership could not have lasted longer, but I will take all that I have learned from my time here with me. I will do all I can to honor our agreement.”  

He rose slowly from his bow and turned towards the younger man draped lazily in his chair.  Smiling despite the absurdity of the present situation, he sincerely wished, “I hope to see each other soon, Hyungwon-ssi.  It has been an honor to see you come into your own.  I hope someday we can do more business with each other. Though, more than that, I truly hope that we can become great friends.  It’s hard knowing who to trust in this game, but I trust you.”

“And I, you,” Hyungwon returned immediately, all pretense of his signature casual disinterest vanished and replaced with a rare display of sincerity.  Kihyun had meant what he’d said when he said it, but seeing so clearly how much Hyungwon had come to value him too as a colleague stoked a fire of urgency to blaze wildly within him.  The younger man had so much potential, and it was being squandered fantastically.  Kwon was blindly using his greatest asset as a mere babysitter for his useless boytoy.  How shameful.  Kihyun extended his hand toward him and shook their firmly gripped palms resolutely.  If he wanted his own fledgling empire to survive, even someday thrive, he needed to have Hyungwon by his side.  And come hell or high water, he would do it. Proper etiquette be damned.

Giving a final bow as he approached the office door, he turned round to yank open the door—

“Kihyun,” a grating voice smugly greeted.

Kihyun immediately slapped a toothy grin across his face at the sight of the reviled, pathetic man who had cost him everything. And for what?  A stroke of his overly inflated, downright suffocating and hilariously fragile ego?  He couldn’t even begin to count the ways he wanted to carve that repugnant face to pieces. Yet he managed to force himself to respond cordially, “Oh, hello, Seungri-ssi.  I wasn’t expecting to bump into you here.  You must be here to pick up Hyungwon-ssi for tonight’s meeting.  I was just here to drop off our latest figures–they were our best ones yet, maybe the best the boss had ever seen.”  He stepped to the side and ushered the other man inside, “Here, please come in; I’d hate for you to be considered late.  You know how testy Hyungwon-ssi gets when it comes to punctuality.”

He delighted in seeing the way the asshole visibly faltered, confidence shattering into confusion at the unexpected reaction.  Good, Kihyun thought smugly as he let his grin soften into a gentle smile.  He reached out to run his fingertips along the fabric of the expensive suit the other wore, carefully engaging the hidden blades in his rings so they’d slice through the delicate threads and permanently mar the suit’s beauty. Gripping the other’s arm, he lied, “I really hope we have a chance to meet again soon so we can properly catch up and such.  Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I don’t think that will be possible considering–”

“Oh, relax, Seungri,” he chuckled hollowly, “I’m not hitting on you!”  As if he’d ever be that desperate.  “That’s wholly unprofessional, and I’m honestly not that shameless.  I meant as colleagues; I’d love nothing more than to pick your brains,” he admitted plainly, but continued, “since you used to be an athlete.  I think having your insight will make my fight club that much more profitable if I know what to look for, you know?”

Seungri’s eyebrow twitched at the pointed jab.  Kihyun’s delight grew at seeing him so visibly frustrated. “I doubt my insight would do much to help your little club since none of your fighters are actual athletes.”

“And you aren’t either anymore so I think it would,” Kihyun retorted with a smirk.  “But let’s just agree to disagree,” he offered with a dismissive shrug.  “I’ll catch you around sometime, Seungri-ssi.  Have a good night.”  He let the door slam shut with a satisfyingly loud bang in Seunghyun’s fucking face.

Letting all pretenses of gentility fall from his countenance, Kihyun quickly strode toward the elevator, nodding his head at Kwon’s secretary as he went, and repeatedly stabbed the call button with his finger.  He needed to get out of this building so he could think clearly.  His mind was reeling with countless plans as to how to begin, but he had one clear goal in mind: He was going to fucking annihilate Lee Seunghyun.

————————————

“Need a ride?” a surprisingly cheery voice called out from beside him.

Hyungwon didn’t even bother to hold back his laughter, “I should have known you would follow us.”

“Well, what can I say?” Kihyun smirked, reaching over to pop open the passenger door, silently beckoning for the younger to get in. “I’m an opportunistic bastard.”

“That you are,” Hyungwon nodded, smoothly sliding into the seat and tossing the wet umbrella into the backseat. Buckling himself in, he dropped all pretenses and asked bluntly, “You saw?”

“I saw.”

“And?”

“And I believe he’s a fucking imbecile and our former boss is a fucking fool,” Kihyun managed to say with minimal disgust in his voice. A feat in itself considering the evening he had.

Hyungwon let his head rest against the cool glass of the window as he sighed, “I never understood what they saw in him in the first place.”

The elder blinked, not expecting that comment, before things clicked in his head.  He huffed, his annoyance and disappointment for his friend immediately spiking, “God, I forget how long you’ve been with them. And what do you have to show for it? An umbrella?”

“Excuse you, that is a family heirloom,” Hyungwon sarcastically objected which drew out a bout of bright laughter from his friend.

Regaining his composure, Kihyun pulled the car over to the side of the road.  “Listen,” he began as he turned to face the younger, “you and I are a lot alike. Even though we come from different parts of this world, we both know better than most exactly how it works.”  He gestured toward the other, “You know how to shmooze the corrupt elite into going against their long-term best interests—don’t look so surprised, I know it was you who brokered that deal—and I,” he emphasized the word as he pressed his hand against his chest, “know how to get a poor man to give up his very last dollar. Our talents were being wasted there, yours more than mine. Even if you didn’t have your family’s name, you bring so much to the table as is, Hyungwon.”

Hyungwon blinked sleepily at him, “But?”

“There’s no ‘but.’  I mean it.  You know how to hustle, persuade, manipulate, and adapt.  You’re cunning and resourceful enough to drag the best out of the worst.” He scoffed, “I mean, hell, you even got that idiotic little bitch to cooperate for the majority of the time you were forced to be his warden.”  That garnered a hum of agreement from the other. Kihyun’s voice softened as he spoke, reaching over and gently gripping his forearm, “You’ve got power, Hyungwon, with and without your name.  What’s more is you know how and when to use it.”

“While I appreciate the flattery,” Hyungwon smiled warmly before shifting into a more serious expression, “I need you to get to the point.” He was tired of waiting for Kihyun’s ask, he was tired of being stuck in this dreary city, he was tired of being used as nothing more than an errand boy or a figure head at best, he was just tired.

Kihyun understood him well.  He wouldn’t blame him at all if he rejected his offer, but he would be surprised if he did considering it was the offer of a lifetime. “The point is that you came to Seoul to build your own empire.  I did, too.  I believe that together we can build an empire strong and vast enough to eclipse that of the Headmasters.”

“And why do you think that I’d be interested in partnering with someone, especially a relative no-name like you?” he countered immediately, before tacking on, “No offense.”

“None taken,” Kihyun chuckled. “Your name brought you under Kwon Jiyong’s tutelage, yet it alone didn’t keep you there.  My lack of a name got me into the game, but it didn’t move me through the ranks from the very bottom to near the top.  Our ambition to create our own legacy, patience to build it bit by bit each day, and ruthlessness to make sure nothing or no one got in the way of our destiny is what got us to where we were.  They’re what will get us to where we need to be. Together.”

“What if I don’t want to do it together?”

He shrugged, merging back onto the street, “Then this will be our last conversation about it.”

Hyungwon knew him too well to think he would really leave it at that. “But?”

Kihyun cracked a smug smile, “But I already know I’ve sold you on it.”

“You’re very cocky for someone whose needs far outweigh those of the person they’re practically begging,” Hyungwon yawned.

“First of all,” the elder scoffed, “I don’t beg.  Second of all, I’m a bookie: Selling people on the vision against all odds is what I do.”

Hyungwon wordlessly conceded the point, choosing instead to mull over the proposition fully.  His mind ran through every scenario possible to assess if this was a risk even worth taking.  He was ambitious, yes, but he wasn’t blind to reason.  If they did this, they would be going against the largest syndicate this side of the Pacific.  Taking them down would require more than just pride and vengeance.  It would take years of reconnaissance, libraries’ worth of tactical strategies, armies of manpower, and billions of won to finance it all.  They couldn’t afford to make a single mistake, lest they be taken down too.  It was beyond risky. Yet…  

“If you go, go boldly.” He heard his father’s words clearly in his head as if the man had just spoken them to him.  This was as bold as he could go.  And, truthfully, nothing would bring him greater satisfaction than to build his empire off the bones and ashes of those who had scorned him. Shit, Kihyun was right: He was sold.  He didn’t speak again until they arrived at the airfield, one of his father’s private jets awaiting him already. “Despite recent events, I still respect Kwon Jiyong. While I do not agree with every decision he has made, obviously, he has taught me many important lessons.  The first being to keep your allies close enough so they never feel like they’re enemies, even when you’ve taken everything from them.  No direct harm must come to him by our own doing.  Agreed?”

Kihyun had already figured that would be a condition, so he readily accepted it with a nod, “Agreed.”

“The second most important lesson was to never leave loose ends.” Hyungwon unbuckled his seatbelt, reaching behind himself to get his umbrella. A hint of a smile was on his lips as he followed up, “Fortunately for us, he never takes his own advice.”

The other man’s brow knitted together in slight confusion. “What do you mean?”

“In order for our empire to have any chance of survival, we will need a legitimate front.  You cannot provide that as you’re a bookie by trade, I cannot provide that on account of my notorious lineage. But I know of someone who I am certain would be more than willing to join us,” he smirked as he added with great emphasis, “if given the right motivation.”

Kihyun immediately understood what he meant. “Who?”

“Lee Minhyuk, heir of Lee Media Group, Incorporated.”

————————————

A pitiful whine sounded from Minhyuk’s side mere seconds before silvery puppy eyes flooded his vision. “Oh, don’t look at me like that!” Minhyuk huffed. “I ordered you a pizza, too, and it’ll be here sooner than you think, okay? Now move,” he gently nudged his giant fluffball of a pet’s face away, “I have to finish this paper tonight.” He got a quick yet gentle whack to the face by his beloved companion’s tail for his efforts, a chuckle rumbling in his chest at the petty action. Once he was sure Beauty was settled back into her usual lounging spot, he wriggled a bit to wake his butt up so he could comfortably fall back into his workflow and the trancelike focus it brought.

A loud, insistent buzz suddenly sounded causing Minhyuk to glance up from his textbook in surprise. Tucking his highlighter behind his ear, he rooted around a bit through the haphazard pile of cluttered notes for his phone, clicking his teeth in annoyance when he realized that it’d been in his lap the entire time. He unlocked it quickly and checked the time he’d ordered his pizzas. “Huh, I guess I lost track of time,” he commented offhandedly as he pushed himself up off the floor to buzz the delivery guy in, earning a curious yip in return. Warm, soft fur brushed past his thigh as he leaned up against the wall by his apartment door. He leaned down to stare his beloved fur baby directly in her piercing silver eyes. “Now Beauty, remember what we talked about earlier,” he began sternly. “You can’t growl at the delivery guy any more or else I have to leave you alone to go get us food; and it’s already hard enough leaving you to go to class because you, my precious devious angel, like to climb up on things you shouldn’t be on and howl at the rumba when it’s cleaning.” Beauty snorted in response as if she were indignantly denying the (completely true) allegations lodged against her. Minhyuk laughed, leaning forward to bump his head against hers, “You and I both know it’s true! I have video evidence!” Beauty snorted again, turning her head away from him to lift her nose up as high as it could go. “You’re such a brat!” he gently shoved her shoulder before straightening up when three quick knocks sounded against his door. With a quick “behave” to his sassy wolf, he yanked open his door to reveal a very handsome, very pizza-less man. “You’re not the delivery guy?” Minhyuk pointed out dumbly.

“Uh, no,” the guy chuckled, “I’m not. My name’s Yoo Kihyun. May I come in?”

Minhyuk was not in the habit of letting strangers—no matter how attractive—into his home, especially considering his overprotective, four-legged bodyguard would happily rip them from limb to limb if given half the chance. Yet when said bodyguard decides to have a complete personality change within a split second and prance forward to calmly sniff the stranger before stubbornly wedging her large head under his fingertips in a silent prompt for him to pet her, well Minhyuk really had no choice but to let the man in. “P-please, come in,” he managed to stammer out, robotically pulling the door all the way open for his guest to enter. “Um, I’m sorry for the mess,” he apologized sheepishly as he kicked mismatched pairs of shoes closer to the shoe cubby he’d bought only weeks before in a failed attempt to force himself to be a little less of a slob. Thankfully, he did have an unused pair of slippers placed atop the cubby for the guests he never had over. He offered them to the man, who took them with a warm smile and soft “thanks.”

“It’s okay,” Kihyun assured him gently as he carefully placed his shoes in the cubby hole Minhyuk had motioned toward, “I know you weren’t expecting me and I understand how busy a student’s life can be, especially this time of year.”

“Uh, yeah, it can be. But how did you know I was student?”

“Well, if the highlighter and pen tucked behind your ears weren’t enough of a clue, the mountain of books, papers, flash cards, and sticky notes behind you definitely gave it away. That and the way your laptop is precariously perched atop those empty ramen cups,” Kihyun chuckled.

Minhyuk flushed in embarrassment. “Oh,” he said dumbly, “yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Scratching nervously at his neck, he awkwardly shifted on his feet and tried to remember his social graces. “Um, can I get you anything to drink? We—no, I ordered pizza a little while ago and it should be here soon, if you’d like some.”

Kihyun smirked, “As long as there’s no pineapple on it, I’d love a slice, thank you. And water will be just fine.” He motioned to the futon wedged into the corner beside the couch which lay covered in the contents of Minhyuk’s upended backpack, “Is it alright if I sit?”

“Of course! Make yourself at home.” Minhyuk had to tamp down a groan of embarrassment as his blush deepened at the sight of the haphazard mess that was his study nest. “I’m really sorry about the mess, I forget how much of a slob I can be sometimes,” he apologized shyly as he scrambled over to the couch to shove everything back into his backpack, before kicking it into the corner.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Kihyun assured him warmly. “This is your home, you’re allowed to live in it how you please. Besides, I showed up here unannounced, so I should be the one apologizing for interrupting your studies.”

Minhyuk shook his head, “Oh, no, it’s fine. I was almost finished anyway.” Satisfied with his slightly less messy couch, he doubled back to the kitchen to fish out a bottle of water for his guest before returning to the living room. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Kihyun didn’t open the bottle, though, placing it instead on the sole coaster Minhyuk had managed to save from Beauty’s jaws. “What’s her name?” he asked curiously as he held out a hand toward the wolf, who sniffed it again before dipping her head down to let his fingers tangle in her fur.

Usually when people saw his precious fur baby, they ran for the hills with panic and fear clear in their eyes. And on more than one occasion, they left with the acrid scent of excrement trailing behind them. So to see someone act so warmly and calmly toward her as instantly as Kihyun did was absolutely mind boggling to Minhyuk. “Her name’s Beauty.”

“As in ‘Beauty and the Beast?’”

“Yeah, exactly! Though I guess she’s both.”

“Then it’s a perfectly fitting name. She really is very beautiful,” he hummed as he continued to pet the surprisingly docile wolf.

“She is, but don’t let her pretty face fool you: She can be quite an ass when she wants to be,” Minhyuk griped remembering all things she’d literally ripped apart in their years together. He loved her dearly, but he still hadn’t quite managed to forgive her for gnawing on his limited edition figurines.

The buzzer rang, jolting him out of his momentary annoyance at her. With pleading eyes, he motioned toward Beauty, “Do you mind holding her? She gets kind of feisty whenever she sees me talking to a delivery guy, or anyone really.” Kihyun nodded, digging his fingers in a little more to scratch a bit more fervently behind her ear, rendering her a large, useless ball of mollified fluff. Once the pizzas were safely in the other’s arms, Kihyun let up on the pressure enough to bring her back to full alertness. “I don’t think I have any clean plates, but again you’re more than welcome to have some. Though if you want any chance at the carnivore’s delight, tell me now so I can distract her long enough so you can get some.”

“I wouldn’t dare come between a lady and her food!”

“Trust me, she’s no lady when there’s food involved,” Minhyuk chuckled as he flipped open the lids of both pizza boxes. He barely managed to move his hand out of the way before Beauty pounced on it, mercilessly tearing into the various smoked and grilled meats that adorned the cheese-less, extra-thin crust. “See, I told you!”

Kihyun chuckled, reaching for his water bottle instead when Minhyuk motioned for him to get a slice, slowly unscrewing the cap and taking a long swig. The chilled water did little to settle the storm rolling within him. He watched the two eat with a small smile on his face as, not for the first time since Hyungwon’s man had delivered the promised dossier, he heavily contemplated whether ambition and vengeance were worth permanently tearing apart the life of someone who had already endured hell at such a young age.

While their lives up to this point were markedly different, Kihyun felt a kindred spirit within the other. He knew well what it was like to hide from the world, retreat into oneself for years on end just to keep sane while staying protected from the cold jaws of a violent, vain death. He was as much an expert as the other in rebuilding oneself and one’s life from scratch after everything had been ripped away in a blink of an eye. And unlike him, Minhyuk seemed to be content with this new life he’d built. Who was he to take that away from him? He knew with a little work and the right phrasing he could persuade the other into joining their fledgling organization, but at what cost?

Before seeing him in his cozy habitat, it’d been so easy picturing Minhyuk as distant and distrusting. The reality of him could not have been in greater contrast: He was warm and caring, open and trusting, dazzlingly bright in all his normalcy. Could he survive, retain his radiance and warmth, in the cruel world of the city’s underbelly? Kihyun knew Minhyuk was strong, he’d read as much in the dossier ten times over; but he also knew primal survival was a completely different beast than surviving betrayals and assassination attempts, which were easily the most mundane parts of his life. He was used to masking his own true self and keeping a wary eye on his own shadow because he’d been forced to survive in this world for so long. That was where he and Minhyuk truly differed; and that was the crux of the matter which tore Kihyun apart: Minhyuk would have to choose to give up his safety and sanity to join Kihyun in the darkness of the dangerous night for a chance that may never come.

He couldn’t—

“Are you okay?” Minhyuk’s slightly raspy voice gently uttering those words gored Kihyun to the heart.

Fuck.

Kihyun sighed heavily, eyes lowering under the heaviness of the truth. “I thought I would be.” He reached into his coat to retrieve the dossier that had weighed so heavy on his conscience since he first opened it and placed it in his lap. Curling his fingers tightly around the spine of it so as to ground himself, he forced himself to stare Minhyuk right in his eyes and spoke with all the sincerity he could muster in an attempt to express some remorse for his presence here. “Before I tell you why I’m here, I need to thank you for welcoming me into your home. You’ve shown me such kindness that I never expected and it pains me deeply, deeper than I ever thought possible to know I have invaded your safehaven. I am truly sorry, I hope you can believe at some point that I am.”

Kihyun didn’t miss the way Minhyuk instinctively leaned back into Beauty, hand snaking down to grip her paw, nor did he miss the way the wolf shifted her head forward should she need to attack. He continued on anyway, heart sinking with every word he spoke, “The truth is I’m here to ask something great of you. Before I can ask you, though, I have to tell you something that will change your life for the rest of your days. I don’t know for certain if that change will be for the better or the worse, though I’m certain it will not be easy to hear or to accept. If you don’t want to know, tell me now and I will leave immediately so you can carry on with your life.”

Minhyuk stared at him hard for a long, silent moment before he spoke again, voice a little less gentle but no less comforting despite everything, “Who are you?”

“I’m a bookie,” he answered simply yet immediately. “Up until a couple weeks ago, I used to work for the most powerful organized crime syndicate in the nation. I was singlehandedly responsible for bringing in billions and billions of won just from my fight club and schemes alone. My immediate success within the organization made certain... persons wary of me, leading them to question whether my services were actually of benefit to the organization despite my very obvious profitability. Enough doubt, so to speak, was cast upon my character and operations that I was let go. All out of jealousy and spite,” he scoffed bitterly.

“The same night I was forced out,” Kihyun continued, “another member of the organization, who was far higher in the food chain than I ever would be, decided he had had enough of cleaning up the messes made by those same certain persons. I saw the opportunity and I took it. I convinced him to become my partner so we could build our own empire. So we could finally have the power we had worked our asses off for, for nearly all of our lives. My partner was born into this life, I was forced into it. Even though we both have our own skills and assets which could get us far, they’re not enough to fully sustain our empire for decades to come. We needed someone else, someone who had all the missing pieces and would be willing to join us. We believe that person is you.”

Minhyuk’s brow furrowed deeply, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I was sent here to convince you to join us.” He leaned forward to gingerly place the dossier on the corner of the table between them, his movements carefully tracked by two pairs of intensely focused eyes. “In order to do that, though, I must tell you a terrible truth.” He dropped his voice to a gentle hush, “Now is your last chance to kick me out. Just say no and I’ll leave you alone forever. I promise you.”

Minhyuk shifted onto his knees, trying to keep his movements slow and steady despite his overwhelming urge to bolt straight for his front door and never look back, and grabbed a comforting fistful of Beauty’s fur to ground himself. “I-I’m not sure what—“ he stammered out before scrambling to his feet. “I’m sorry, I need a moment.” He didn’t even wait until the last word was out of his mouth; he was already making a beeline to his bedroom, rushing into it as if it were the surface of a rolling sea that he’d been dragged under before he could catch even half a breath. The door slammed behind him as he slammed his back against it, chest heaving and icy bolts coursing through his veins. His hands shakily gripped the hem of his baggy sweatshirt, and he tried to focus past the black spots dotting his vision to look helplessly at his beloved protector. Beauty leaned into him until her head was pressed firmly against his stomach so she could stare seemingly reassuringly up at him. His knees gave out. His tailbone hit the uncarpeted floor hard, but he didn’t even register the pain. Beauty nuzzled up to him, flooding him with her comforting warmth and anchoring him with her familiar weight. Slowly, steadily, surely, he was able to breathe a bit more evenly enough to where he could actually focus on the decision at hand: Yes or no?

If he said no, he could pretend this day never happened. He could continue on with his life as he saw fit, could keep up the same routines that had provided him structure and stability and sanity for all these years. There was no reason he needed to change his life. He was happy, he really was. He had Beauty, he had his apartment, he had his passing acquaintances and casual friends. He didn’t need anything else.

Yet, what did he really have to lose if he said yes? Sure, he was happy with his life, but not necessarily content. He had always felt he should be doing more with his life, should be more in this life. After all there was always his parents’ legacy looming high over his head, constantly looking down upon him and haunting him in all his moments, waking and sleeping alike. He wanted to be the filial son their bloodied ghosts agonizingly begged him to be in the nightmares that jolted him awake in a pool of chilled sweat on many a dark night. He wanted to be able to live up to his name, to make his parents proud, to do what was expected of him. But he was terrified, so terrified. What if he failed? What if he ruined the only good thing that still connected him with his parents? What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he wasn’t meant to achieve more? What if he wasn’t meant to be more?

Beauty shifted a bit to bump her snout against his forehead. Minhyuk pressed into the calming touch with a grateful sigh. “What should we do?” he whispered to her. She didn’t make a noise like usual; instead, she just lifted her paw and pressed it to his chest. “But I’m scared...” he admitted. “What if I mess everything up? What if I—“ Beauty cut him off with a harsh snort as she pressed her paw that much more firmly against his chest, her way of telling him to stop overthinking and trust his gut as it had never lead him wrong. The only thing that he was truly afraid of was the strangely intense pull toward the mysterious man with the terrible secret currently sat on his raggedy futon.

Minhyuk knew the second Kihyun warned him about the hidden truth that he would not be able to carry on with his life without hearing it. Even if he lied and told him to leave, it’d be a matter of days before his curiosity got the best of him and he tracked him down. He was never the type to just let things lie as they were. He had to figure them out, had to find the truth beneath it all. He knew he was damned with every word Kihyun regretfully spoke. So with all the courage he could muster to bid a bittersweet farewell to the life he had known until then, Minhyuk rose from his crouched position and took a long, steadying breath before opening his bedroom door.

Kihyun watched with bated breath as Minhyuk wordlessly crossed the living room to get to the kitchen. Silently, Minhyuk dug around in his cabinets for two shot glasses before quickly retrieving the bottle of soju he kept in his fridge in case of emotional emergencies and reckless decisions, both of which were happening simultaneously then. He strode into his living room with more confidence than he felt he should have had considering the situation and set the glasses down, easily snapping the cap off the bottle against the table edge. He poured the glasses up to the brim and wordlessly handed one to Kihyun, who accepted it silently. “Here’s to handsome strangers with mysterious origin stories,” Minhyuk toasted jokingly with a small smile. He slung the shot back, pounding the glass back down onto the table so he could fill it up again, not even wincing at the burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat. Kihyun followed suit, opting instead though to calmly place his glass down. “Here’s to never being able to say no.” Another downed shot, another poured round. “Here’s to never being the same.” Another round down. “Here’s to the truth and all its devastation.” He finished off his shot and grabbed the dossier before Kihyun could reach for it. “So do you want to tell me or should I just read it for myself?”

Kihyun rolled the glass between his palms as he answered quietly, “It’s up to you, Minhyuk.”

“It seems a shame for you to go through all the hard work of tracking me down,” Minhyuk thumped a knuckle against the dossier cover, “and not tell me yourself.”

The dreaded moment had finally arrived. Kihyun had foolishly thought that when the time came, he would be able to just say the words with as much ease as him reciting his usual burger order. As with many things about that night, he had been wrong. He found himself at a complete loss for words for the first time in his life. No matter how he managed to phrase it—to string the few words that returned to him in a sensible way, to cushion the devastating blow with gentle intonation and calm phrasing—there was no way to escape the hurt he would be bringing to Minhyuk with the truth. And that struck him hard like a brick across the jaw. For the very first time, Kihyun realized the power he had over the life of another. He couldn’t breathe for a moment as the sobering reality and responsibility crashed hard over him.

“Kihyun?” Minhyuk prompted, confusion clear in his voice.

Kihyun’s eyes snapped to meet his at the sound of his name. Then the terrible truth fell from his dry lips:

“Your parents were assassinated.”

A tense stillness stretched between and coiled around them like a massive constrictor crushing them between its mighty scales, gripping them so tightly that neither man felt they could breathe. The silence hanging over them was deafening. It blocked out even the sounds of their frantic heartbeats. The longer they sat, the more unnerved Kihyun became. He didn’t know whether to apologize again and again and again or fully detail the assassination plot or just get up and leave. He was stuck and all he could was wait for Minhyuk to give him some sort of cue as to h—

A shrill CRACK! shattered the silence. It took Kihyun a moment to realize the sound came from one of the shot glasses, a moment more allowed him to locate the broken glass and he gasped. Minhyuk had crushed the glass in his clenched fist, crimson blood dripping freely from his hand a stark contrast to the taut, pale skin of his knuckles. Kihyun made to reach forward to grab his hand but he jerked back immediately as Minhyuk bolted up to his feet. He crouched down, unaware of the glass shards sticking in his flesh, to grip the table’s edge and heaved with all his might to fling it across the room, the wood making a sickening cracking noise as it collided heavily with the wall while all the books, papers, pens, pizza boxes, snack bags, and even his laptop flew through the air to scatter and shatter around the floor.

Spinning on his heel, he grabbed the first thing he saw—his favorite lamp—and threw it to the ground, not even flinching at the sizzling crack of the bulb shorting out as its plug was yanked from the wall. He kicked over his barstools; ripped apart the few decorative pillows he owned; pushed all his video games, figurines, consoles, movies, controllers, any and everything on his shelves onto the ground. He smashed his fist into the glass screen of his television without even batting an eye. Not satisfied with its meager offerings to his raging storm of destruction, he grabbed its edges and ripped it from its mount on the wall. Raising it high over his head, he furiously slammed it down onto the ground, the sheer force with which he hurled it causing it to crack in half once it hit. Not seeing anything else that could be destroyed, Minhyuk grabbed fistfuls of his hair and yanked as hard as he could, the unbearable pain making itself known by ripping a bloodcurdling shriek of agony out his throat. Yet the sound and sensation only made him pull harder at his strands as more screams fell from his lips, all while he sobbed with helplessness and desperation and blinding rage.

Kihyun couldn’t bear to watch this downward spiral anymore. Motioning for Beauty to just stay put despite her pitiful whines, he positioned himself behind the other and reached up to carefully yet firmly pry his hands from his tortured scalp. Once free, he gripped Minhyuk’s wrists so he could guide his arms to wrap tightly across his heaving chest, just barely managing to keep his grip the entire time despite Minhyuk’s best efforts to break free from his hold. He pulled him tight against his chest then wedged a foot between his feet so he could gently nudge them apart before realigning his stance. Slowly, he bent his knees, causing Minhyuk’s to bend in response, and he lowered them down until they were seated on the only debris-free stretch of flooring.

As soon as they were on the ground, Beauty pounced. She immediately curled up in his lap as best she could, rooting her nose around to sniff out any open wounds not yet seen. Kihyun let Minhyuk’s hands go so as to be as non-threatening as possible. He could feel a little of the tension slide from Minhyuk’s shoulders as she sniffed and licked and fussed over him. He rose slowly to his feet and slipped away silently to search for a first aid kit. When he found it, he returned to the living room but stopped short when he saw Minhyuk holding his injured hand as far away from Beauty as possible, his other arm curled round her to keep her at bay. It seemed that Minhyuk still had enough awareness to make sure his beloved guardian and companion didn’t get hurt while trying to care for him. Kihyun reached down to encircle his wrist; Minhyuk flinched at the unexpected touch but relaxed when Beauty managed to lurch forward enough to lick his face again. Kihyun recognized the opportunity for what it was and knelt down beside him so he could begin to gingerly clean his wounds. He worked at it for some time, enough for both men to settle into a relatively confident silence. “You’ll need stitches,” Kihyun softly whispered once the wounds were cleaned as best he could.

Panic flooding him, Minhyuk shook his head vehemently at the thought and he instinctively held Beauty tighter to his chest, “I d-don’t wan— I c-can’t l-leave her alone—“ His voice cracked, the last little bit of light in his eyes fading as he seemed to finally understand the true meaning of the word, let it roll off his tongue like a hopeless prayer set on an endless loop, “Alone...alone...alone...alone...”

“Shhh, shhh...” Kihyun wedged himself against his back so he could be closer to him, provide some sort of sense of security so, he hoped, Minhyuk wouldn’t sink too far down into the depths of despair. Perhaps it was so he could feel of some use, feel a little less like a heartless piece of shit for letting his vengeance consume the sun. “We don’t have to go to a hospital. I know a doctor. I’ll call him, he’s very discrete and he does excellent work. You’ll heal in no time.” His breath caught as something shifted wrong inside of him at his last words. No, he realized, Minhyuk wouldn’t heal quickly at all, at least not his body. He might never heal... Kihyun placed the gauze-covered hand atop Beauty’s head, a sudden overwhelming urge to get the hell out of there overtaking him. “I’ll go call him now.” Kihyun carefully extracted himself, slipping his coat onto the man’s shoulders once on his feet, and slipped into the hallway, shaky hands barely able to dial Hyungwon’s number.

“Kihyun,” came the sleepy greeting.

“I told him,” Kihyun breathed out in a rush.

He could hear shuffling on the other end of the line, presumably Hyungwon moving to a slightly more private area, “You didn’t tell him everything, I take it.”

Kihyun raked a hand through his hair, “I couldn’t. He fucking snapped.”

“Well, no shit,” his partner deadpanned. “What did you expect? Him to just smile and take it on the chin? His parents were fucking murdered in what he thought was just a random, tragic car accident that he should’ve died in too.”

“I’m not a moron, Hyungwon,” he snapped back before heaving out a frustrated sigh. “I knew he wouldn’t take it well but he just trashed his entire apartment and crushed a goddamn glass with his bare fist! It’s like he fucking— I don’t know, like he just—“

“Grieved.” Hyungwon sighed softly. “Listen, I know you care for him, knew it long before you did; and that’s fine. I’m glad you do, shows that at least one of us has a heart,” he chuckled. “So use that to your advantage. Go in there and do your job. I believe in you. Call me when it’s finished.” He hung up.

Kihyun could only stare dumbly at the wall ahead of him for a moment. He knew Hyungwon was right. He’d already done the hardest part, had already cause near maximum damage. He just needed to talk until the deal was sealed. He was good at talking, very good. He breathed deeply a couple times to ground himself, quickly firing off a text to Dr. Lee in the meantime, before he pushed the door open only to be greeted by a surprisingly calm Minhyuk.

“I read it,” Minhyuk said simply, holding out the dossier in question towards the confused man before him. “I will join you under one condition.”

“What is it?”

“Should the time come,” Beauty sat down slowly beside her owner’s leg as he growled, “do not get in our way.”

————————————

“Are you sure about this?” Hyunwoo asked for the tenth time in as many minutes. Based on the long, exasperated sigh that dragged itself from across the other line into his ear, he just knew Kihyun was pinching the bridge of his nose hard enough to bruise in an attempt to tamp down his frustration at being asked the same question yet again. “Sorry,” he rushed out in order to placate his partner as best he could, “it’s just you know I’m terrible at, you know, talking.”

“I know,” Kihyun huffed, “which is exactly why I sent you. The kid’s young, but he’s not stupid. He’ll see me scheming from ten blocks away. You, on the other hand, are just too genuine of a person. He won’t expect it from you. Plus, your face is practically unreadable to anyone who isn’t me; so even if you feel like you’re fucking everything up, chances are he still won’t know anything’s off.”

“Now stop being a scaredy cat and go do your job,” Hyungwon interjected before forcibly hanging up in his face.

Hyunwoo blinked, still not used to the young don’s brazenness, especially considering who he was. It wasn’t that long ago when no one would even dare glance in his general direction; yet now he was routinely subjected to bratty behavior disguised as bluntness for efficiency’s sake. It was mindboggling to say the least. Pocketing his phone, he stuffed his hands into his hoodie and shuffled down the block, seamlessly blending in with the crowd around him.

Just as he was about to reach the arcade, the tell-tale grunts and groans of someone getting their ass kicked caught his attention. Turning to his left, Hyunwoo slipped into the alley unseen to find a group of four men huddled around and viciously kicking at a shaking body curled up on the ground between them. A jumping. How pathetic. Without a second thought, Hyunwoo lunged forward to yank one of the aggressors back by their jacket’s collar and spun them around, taking their momentary confusion to land a right hook across their jaw. The sickening crack of his fist connecting with and cracking the man’s jaw rang through the air, drawing the attention of the other three toward him. Hyunwoo relinquished his grip and only shrugged at them as the man’s body dropped into a crumpled heap at his feet. “Who’s next?” he calmly asked.

He’d never seen people run that fast from him before, especially while dragging the dead weight of an unconscious friend behind them. Chuckling quietly to himself, Hyunwoo leaned over to look down at the kid—no more than sixteen by the looks of it, but he knew better—on the ground who was slowly sitting up and regaining his breath. No visible bruises or significant cuts to the face or hands, a good enough sign. Making a mental note to have Dr. Lee check the younger out regardless of how the evening turned out, he held out his hand to him as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” the kid nodded as he reached up to take Hyunwoo’s offered hand. Hyunwoo had to fight to keep his face completely neutral despite being shocked as hell at just how deep the younger’s voice was. He pulled him up and stepped back, giving him enough space to dust himself off and collect himself. “Yeah, I’m fi—HOLY SHIT!” The kid was practically gawking at him, eyes comically wide and jaw agape as he finally looked right at his savior.

Hyunwoo blinked. Huh. “Is something on my face?” he mumbled, dumbly reaching up with his other hand to poke at his cheeks in search of whatever was attached to his skin.

“Oh my God.” He stepped in closer—uncomfortably closer—to Hyunwoo, who reflexively took a step back only to have his personal space erased yet again by the gawking weirdo in front of him. “Oh my God,” the kid practically wheezed, “I’m dreaming, I have to be. Oh my God. Holy fuck, please punch me.”

Hyunwoo blinked again. “You have a concussion,” he concluded aloud. It was the only thing that made sense as to why this child was ac—

“I don’t have a concussion,” he interjected flatly yet resolutely. “I see one of everything, my breathing is fine, I’m not dizzy or nauseated, I remembered everything, and I’m not confused. So please make my entire fucking, like, life and just. punch. me. in. the. FACE!”

The situation was approaching a level of strange Hyunwoo was not at all prepared for (and he spent an unreasonably large amount of time with Minhyuk and Beauty) and did not want to be involved with at all. Crossing his arms, he stared down his nose with a scowl and demanded, “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re Son Hyunwoo!” the kid exclaimed in equal parts frustration and excitement, his arms flying above his head to flail in air, as if Hyunwoo should have already understood why he’d be asking to be punched in the face. “Aka, the greatest heavyweight boxer in the history of Korea, and one of the greatest of our generation in the entire world. Dude, you’re a fucking legend!” The kid stepped impossibly closer to (very boldly) clap a hand against Hyunwoo’s shoulder, his voice dropping down to what he clearly (and very mistakenly) believed to be a whisper as he added, “And between the two of us, I never once believed that you, you know,” he mimed cutting his neck, “did it.”

Hyunwoo had to laugh. He gingerly picked up the kid’s wrist to remove his hand from his shoulder, eyes sparkling with bemused warmth as he spoke, “While I appreciate your faith in me…” Abruptly, he yanked the captured wrist down to grab the kid’s hand in a crushing, immobilizing grip. All the warmth in his demeanor was ripped to shreds in a hostile sneer as he growled rough and low in his chest, “I did do it, and I’d do it again and again and again.”

A tense moment passed between them before the kid, much to Hyunwoo’s complete disbelief and mild annoyance, let out a long airy whistle between his teeth. “Whoa, man,” he breathed in awe, “consider my mind blown. Can I take you to dinner?”

“What?”

“Nah, bro, not like that,” he clarified, though rushed to add, “though I mean it’s totally cool if you took it that way and I would be really flattered, but I’m not asking you like that ‘cause I’m not into that personally. I’m just really such a huge fan of yours; and since you won’t punch me in the face, the least I could do is take you out, my treat. You like meat? Of course you do. Look at you, you probably eat a cow a day. I know an awesome little grill, it’s right around the corner. Cheap sets but super high quality meat. Not that I’m trying to be cheap or anything, ‘cause we could totally go to a fancier—“

“If I say yes, will you stop talking?” Hyunwoo interjected flatly, his head already swimming from the verbal bombardment.

The kid stared at him for a moment, completely silent for the first time since they’d met (Hyunwoo was certain he’d actually stopped breathing), before he tossed his head all the way back and legitimately chortled. Hyunwoo could only stare in confusion, not quite sure if he should be offended at being laughed at or amused at the funny sound squeaking out of the boy. Just as quickly as the laughing spell washed over him, it faded and the kid snapped his head forward to stare seriously at the other, “I hardly ever shut up so chances are very low. But I might if you, yanno...” He mimed an uppercut.

Hyunwoo let out an exasperated sigh, “I’m not going to punch you in the face, kid, no matter how much you ask.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool,” he nodded, holding his hands up placatingly before hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “Grill’s just around the corner there, but I gotta swing by the ATM first. Should only take a moment.”

“That’s fine,” Hyunwoo shrugged, already resigned to endure more rapidfire rants for the rest of the evening. At least his belly would be full and his job done by the end of the night.

“I’m Changkyun, by the way,” the kid tossed over his shoulder as he stopped at the first ATM he spotted.

Luckily for him, Hyunwoo didn’t even have to try to stop himself from admitting he already knew his name and damn near everything about him already because he was so caught off-guard that he blurted dumbly, “Why do you have four wallets?”

Changkyun turned to blink at him. “What do you mean? You saw what happened.”

“Yeah,” Hyunwoo nodded, gears still trying to figure out what the hell was going on, “I saw you getting your ass kicked.”

“Exactly,” he smirked evilly, “it was all part of my plan. Those asshats were too drunk to even realize what was happening,” he snickered as he fished through each wallet, digging out all the cards he could find and pocketing any bills.

“So you’re telling me,” Hyunwoo began, the gears finally starting to really click in his head, “you baited those guys into fighting you just so you could pickpocket them?”

“Yep!” the kid admitted easily, even going so far as to pop the ‘p’ at the end. “And I was gonna leave it at that, I really was, but they kicked Venom so I have to ruin their lives now. It’s what Venom would want.” He paused for a millisecond, considering. “Well, kinda, ‘cause Venom would just eat them and I’m definitely not a cannibal, but I digress.”

The gears stopped clicking. “What?”

The kid pointed to his shirt where a dirty boot print stain marred the center of the angular spider logo printed upon, “They kicked Venom. So now they have to die. Financially speaking, I’m not really big into murder...like...that...” he trailed off as the profound irony of his words and the moment hit him. A tense silence stretched between the two men as they stared at each other.

Hyunwoo fought desperately to keep his face blank, even though all he wanted to do was double over with laughter. The little shit was bold as hell and absolutely nuts, for sure, but damn it all if he wasn’t actually insanely charming and endearing. Yeah, he’d fit right in with everyone. “So, are you going to rob them blind or just stare at me all night?” he deadpanned after another minute or so of their staring contest.

Changkyun coughed uncomfortably as he finally dropped his eyes and fished out his own bank card—a dummy one, to be sure—, a bright red veil falling over his face. So he wasn’t so shameless after all, Hyunwoo mused to himself. “Um. Do you mind turning around?” he asked. He risked glancing back up as he explained, “You’re a cool dude and all and I know you wouldn’t rat me out to the cops, but I can’t have anyone knowing my proprietary secrets. So...” He motioned for Hyunwoo to turn around, which the elder did without any further prompting. “Thanks!” he chirped before proceeding to obliterate the poor fools’ financial accounts. “Aaaaaaand done!” Chankgyun excitedly announced. Hyunwoo turned his head in enough time to see him stuff an obscene amount of cash into his jacket pocket. “You hungry?” He latched himself onto the awed elder’s arm and shook his head, “Dumb question. Course you are. Who wouldn’t be this time of night? Leggo!” And with that, he all but dashed down the street, dragging his ensnared prey along with him to the tiniest hole-in-the-wall grill.

As soon as the bell of the sliding door tinkled the announcement of their arrival, a little old lady poked her head up from behind her counter. Her heart shaped face immediately spread into a wide, warm grin as she greeted them sweetly, the wrinkles around her eyes and the corners of her mouth bunching just so that it made Hyunwoo want to coo at her. “Oh, hi, Changkyun-ah! Whose your handsome friend?”

“AUNTIE,” Changkyun boomed gleefully as he reached out to try to pat her wrinkly cheeks, but was swiftly (surprisingly so) blocked from doing so with a sharp whack of her fan on his hand, “this is my friend Hy—Shownu! Shownu-hyung, this is my most favorite auntie ever because she feeds me all the best cuts, don’t you?”

He beamed brightly at her, earning yet another whack of her fan and an indignant huff from her. “Of course I do! You’re my most favorite and best customer after all!”

Changkyun scoffed dramatically, clutching his chest as he whined, “Am I only a customer to you? Auntie, I’m hurt!”

“Yes, well, you’re also a pain in my—“

“NEVER MIND! THREE OF THE KING SETS PLEASE AND TWO PITCHERS OF CASS, THANK YOU!” he yelled as he yanked Hyunwoo past her and plopped him down at the last grill along the back wall. As soon as he got comfortable (after scooching and squirming around on the low bench for damn near a minute), he curiously demanded, “So who’s Kiki?”

Hyunwoo, immediately put on high alert by the loaded question, had to physically restrain himself from launching across the table with the pair of meat shears by grabbing the splintered edges of the bench. Changkyun didn’t seem to notice, though, as he kept up the rapid fire questions. “Is that your girlfriend? Kiki’s a really cute name for a girl. What’s she like? Is she pretty? I bet she is.”

Hyunwoo knew his initial instincts were overreactive and unnecessary given the fact he knew full well the boy across him was one of the two best hackers this side of the Pacific (and he certainly wasn’t number two in his book considering what he’d seen). That was the whole reason he was here having an impromptu dinner with him. He knew his habits, his patterns, even his wins record at every arcade in the entire city; yet he still couldn’t shake the feeling he was being played like a goddamn fool right now, especially since there should have been no way for Changkyun to have even had access to his phone all night, let alone long enough to break through all the heavy duty encryptions to access his contacts or read his messages or see his call log. He huffed out a breath and shrugged, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, you’re a player, huh?” Changkyun nodded in consideration, “I respect that. But why is she—“

“He,” Hyunwoo reflexively interjected. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. Damn the boy and his disarming personality.

“Nice. But why is he asking if you’ve sealed the deal yet?” Changkyun blinked. “Wait.” He blinked again, then leaned forward to conspiratorially whisper (quietly shout), “Were you scouting me to be your third?”

“Third?” a curious voice warbled beside them.

Changkyun lurched back, eyes comically wide as fresh panic surged through him and colored his face red once more, and squeaked, “A third pitcher of Cass, Auntie!”

“But I’ve only just brought you your first two, Changkyun-ah. You know you can’t drink that much, especially on an empty stomach!” she chastised while scooting the chilled pitchers closer to a bemused (although still suspicious) Hyunwoo before she went about setting up the grill for them and arranging all the dishes to maximize the limited space at the table.

“Yes, but you see how big my hyung is, don’t you? A growing boy like him needs all the meat and beer he can get!”

“Aye,” she protested as she motioned toward Hyunwoo, “that’s not a boy like you. That is a man! A very handsome, very big, very strong, very se—“

“THANK YOU, AUNTIE. I WILL LET YOU KNOW IF WE NEED ANYTHING ELSE!” Changkyun screeched in an attempt to drown out all the unwanted images of the little old lady going on the prowl like the seasoned cougar he never ever in his life thought she could possibly (definitely) be. Thankfully, she only chuckled at his misery and let them be, returning back to her little cushioned cove behind the register (but only after she gave Hyunwoo’s bicep a very firm, appraising squeeze). “I’m sorry about her. I never thought she could be so...feisty? Ugh, I’m going to have nightmares about this. Wait. What were we talking about before?”

“I am not in a relationship with anyone, I am not a player, and I am not looking for a third,” Hyunwoo responded evenly.

“Oooh, that’s right,” the younger nodded as he replayed the earlier bits of their conversation in his head again while he focused on grilling the meat, garlic, and assorted vegetables that he definitely would not have even bothered touching if he were here by himself. “So then what’s Kiki talking about? I still think that’s a really cute name, even for a dude.”

“I’ll only tell you if you answer my question.”

“Okay, shoot.”

Hyunwoo crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Changkyun,” he said lowly in warning.

“What?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I really don’t. I mean, there’s two things that may be in question here. I need specifics to work off of, hyung.”

“I’m not your hyung.”

“Yet,” he winked as he posited a few pieces of perfectly grilled meat onto the elder’s plate. A bribe if Hyunwoo had ever seen one.

Ignoring the unsubtle gesture, he pressed, “Answer the question, Changkyun.”

“Ugh, fine,” the kid whined, “but at least eat while your food’s hot.”

“Not until you answer.”

“But auntie will be so sad if you don’t!”

“No, she won’t.” Hyunwoo smirked wickedly as he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward to rasp, “Especially if I tell her she can feel—“

“I USED MY DS!” Changkyun blurted out in a rush.

There were a lot of things Hyunwoo had come to learn not to question in his life, but this? He almost couldn’t believe he’d heard right. “Your DS? A Nintendo DS?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” the kid nodded as he poked at a couple garlic cloves.

“Show me.”

“But my proprietary secrets, hyung!”

“Not your hyung, kid,” he huffed while he picked up a couple perilla leaves before adding, “and I will only eat once you show me.”

“Damn, you drive a hard bargain...but okay! I’ve actually been kinda dying to show you all night,” Changkyun admitted sheepishly as he reached inside his jacket. He dug around all the various innerpockets for a bit before he produced a clear Nintendo DS, the sight of it bowling Hyunwoo over with an intense wave of nostalgia. “I rigged it so it’s hooked up to my systems at home so I can hack on the go. And play games. Mostly hack. I use my Gameboy to play games. It’s super retro. I can show you—”

Hyunwoo, having seen all he needed to see, shoved an entire wrap into his cheek and interjected, “You wanna meet Kiki?”

“Only if he has a sister— a cute sister!”

Hyunwoo chuckled around another mouthful and shook his head. “No sister, but he’s got a job for you.”

“A job?”

“Highly illegal, highly dangerous. You in?”

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Preview 3

Despite feeling like I’m fucking distracted around every turn and not really having much time to work on this, I’m making... surprisingly decent progress with this chapter. Probably because writing Stan and Amethyst is super easy for me, and I’m getting quite a good knack with Peridot too I think. And so, here’s this bundle of humor, enjoy!

Peridot took pause, her expression scrutinizing as she seemed to weigh the proposition the conman had just offered to her. And then, a moment or two later, a wide, sly smirk spread across her face, her manner turning almost amicable as she held her hand out a bit, though she didn’t date shake Stan’s just yet. “Alright, you ‘Stan’,” she began shrewdly. “I’ll ‘trade’ you information concerning the Cluster… if you release me from your ‘bath room’ confinement chamber and allow me to return to Homeworld unfettered!”

“Uh, yeah…” Amethyst spoke up. “We kinda can’t do that… Sorry, P-Dot.”

“But we can trade you anything else!” Mabel exclaimed with an encouraging grin. “I’ve got a whole set of sparkly markers upstairs you might like. They’re scented!”

“And I have a bunch a whole bag of fresh donuts from the Big Donut itself back up at the temple!” Steven offered just as warmly. “What about you, Dipper?”

“Oh, come on, Steven,” Dipper deadpanned, crossing his arms. “I’m not about to give her anythi—ow!” he exclaimed as Stan suddenly flicked him on the side of the head for almost ruining their ongoing scam. “Ugh, fine…” he grumbled, searching his vest pocket before finding something he wouldn’t mind parting with too much. “Um… I have a dollar?”

“I’ll take that!” Stan exclaimed, gladly swiping up the money as soon as it was offered.

“Hey! Grunkle Stan!” Dipper protested, only for the conman to lightly push him aside as he tried grabbing his money back.

“Quiet, kid, can’t you see we’re haggling here?” Stan huffed before addressing the rather impatient Peridot once again. “So, greenie, what’ll it be? You can pick from the markers, the donuts, or…” The conman paused briefly, glancing at the dollar in his hand before he neatly tucked it away into his pocket. “Yeah, just those two. Which one do ya want?”

“Hm…” Peridot took a moment to ponder this offer, not really taking it too seriously. That is, until she happened to notice Stan taking a long, calm sip out of his still-steaming mug of coffee. “What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing the mug curiously.

“Uh, what’s it look like, kid?” the conman replied, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’m drinkin’ my daily cup of coffee. It’s part of my daily balanced diet, especially when I gotta deal with annoying freaks like you.”

The green Gem largely ignored the insult, still apparently wanting to know more about the seemingly piping hot liquid the conman was consuming. “What is… ‘coffee’?”

Stan merely spit his next sip of the aforementioned beverage out upon hearing such a question, looking back to the green Gem completely baffled before dropping his voice down to a whisper aimed at Amethyst and the kids. “Well, it looks like I was right. She really is stupid.”

“No, she’s not,” Steven countered empathetically. “She just doesn’t know a lot about Earth yet.”

“Which is why we might as well teach her…” Amethyst said with a small, daring grin as an idea suddenly came to her, especially as she looked back to the conman’s coffee mug once more. Without even asking, she snatched the cup right out of Stan’s hand, ignoring his annoyed protests as she carried it over to Peridot so she could take a look at it for herself. “Coffee is this really good bean juice that humans drink so they won’t fall asleep as fast. I prefer snackin’ on the glass pots they make it in, but… eh, you might like it if you wanna… I dunno, give it a try?”

Peridot scowled distrustfully between the purple Gem and the mug she was offering to her before swiping it and sniffing it experimentally. “So… what am I supposed to do with it?”

“Just pour it down your throat hole, ya goof,” Amethyst explained, though her eyes widened in alarm as Peridot seemed to take her advice quite literally. “Uh… but maybe not that fast…” Stan and the kids watched in equal shock as the green Gem began pouring whatever coffee was left directly into her wide open mouth. And of course, the very moment it was empty, the cup slipped out of her hand, shattering onto the ground as her usual green pallor turned bright red and filled with sudden panic all at once.

“HOT!” she screamed, collapsing to her knees and pounding on the floor dramatically. “HothothothothothothotHOTHOTHOTHOT!” Peridot continued to pant wildly, trying her best to cool down as Stan and Amethyst both burst out laughing in response to her humorous outburst. The kids were all still somewhat bewildered, and even slightly concerned, until the green Gem slowly began to calm herself, her breathing slowing as her color returned to its normal verdant shade.

“So, P-Squared, what’d ya think?” Amethyst asked, still chuckling as she wrapped a playful arm around Peridot’s shoulder. “Enjoy your first taste of coffee?”

“A-are you kidding me?” Peridot asked, harsh and breathless. “That was horrid! That viscous liquid was scalding hot! I have no idea how anyone, Gem or human would willingly put such a foul substance into their body! Which is why I have to ask… do you have any more?!”

In light of her harsh initial reaction to coffee, the entire group was admittedly quite surprised to see the green Gem’s rather pleading expression for more of it. However, it was as Peridot implored them for more that Stan and Amethyst exchanged a knowing glance, both of them realizing the exact same thing at the exact same time.

In order to get what they wanted out of Peridot, they needed to find the right hook. And fortunately for them, they had just found that hook in the most unexpected of ways.

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 30 - 31

We got a special treat for y’all today; a double update! Mostly ‘cause the next few chapters are gonna be massive fish to boil, and ‘cause I love you guys.

After two weeks of inching across the muddy open plains, Elide was tired of using her mother’s name.

Christ, I completely forgot about this subplot. Bad pacing who?

Elide says she’s barely interacted with Lorcan or slept by him which is. What. I thought you were supposed to be smart, Elide! You’re pretending he is your husband, if you two act all distant someone is gonna get suspicious. I thought you were better than this....

Lorcan stalked ahead and said without looking back, “We finished at the three dungeons and their entrances yesterday night. Tell me about what’s inside them.”

Elide gets all nervous and Lorcan points out her scent has changed, which is just, ah.... oof. SJM you uh, you got something you wanna tell the class? Something about a werewolf kink, perhaps?

Elide refuses to spill the beans and Lorcan gets all pissy.

We have a bargain, girl.” Elide met that depthless gaze. “You did not specify when I had to tell you. So I may take as much time as I wish to recall details, if you desire to wring every last one of them from me.”

There’s the Elide I know! Finally, a character doesn’t have to be all powerful and magical to succeed and be an actual force.

“What are you,” [Lorcan] said quietly. “I am nothing,” [Elide] said, voice hollow. Maybe once she found Aelin and Aedion, she’d find some purpose, some way to be of use to the world.

Aaaaand take it back. Unless you’re serving Aelin, you’re useless and have no purpose! Or you’re an evil slutty bitch who should be put down. I am so fucking tired.

They finally finish their bickering session and return to the others, then we switch to Lorcan’s POV. They’re setting up tents for everyone, including one for Elide/Lorcan.

Ombriel came forward, throwing her usual wary glance his way, and slyly informed Elide they’d finally have a night alone together. Arms full of logs, Lorcan could only watch as that pale face of sorrow and despair transformed into youth and mischief, into blushing anticipation, as easily as if Marion had held up a mask.

Finally. It’s like you two want this plan to fail or something.

“I’ll sleep on the ground,” [Lorcan] offered blandly. “You take the roll.” “What if someone comes in?” “Then you’ll say we got into a fight.” “Every night?” Marion pivoted, her rich eyes meeting his. The cold, weary face was back.

zzzzzzzz this drama is so boring please progress the plot or do something of interest

They bicker more about Lorcan getting a bath and he asks her how badly her leg hurts. Such riveting dialogue.

Lorcan’s thoughts drifted toward Rowan and his bitch-queen.

Jfc. At least we’re spared Lorcan splooging over them, instead thinking about how much he hates them and how Rowboat was an idiot for falling in love with Alien. Damn, you know it’s bad when I agree with Lorcan.

Lorcan was about to leave when [Elide] said, “My uncle … He is a commander at Morath.”

So Elide drops that bomb, and Lorcan offers to kill her uncle. Not much else happens. This subplot is so mind numbingly boring and dumb. Next!

Well, on the one hand, at least Rolfe’s map worked. It had been Rowan’s idea, actually. And she might have felt slightly guilty for letting Aedion and Lysandra believe the Pirate Lord had only gone after the Amulet of Orynth, but … at least they now knew his unholy map functioned.

This is the first paragraph + sentence of chapter 31. Who is she? Use names when switching to a new POV gdi!!! Alien doesn’t get name dropped until the bottom half of this page.

As for the rest of it … It was just past midnight when Aelin wondered how the hell she and Rowan would ever go back to normalcy if they survived this war.

I’m imagining it’ll be something akin to the A Court of Wings and Ruin; where you guys will angst about how much the war cost you and how everything is different, but in actuality nobody you cared about died and no one important was even permanently injured, and the supposed trauma was just an excuse for porn.

Alien and Rowboat dramatically sneak into a room through the window, using Rowboat’s magic to close it. Gav and Fenrys are waiting inside.

“You could have used the door,” Fenrys said, arms crossed—a bit too casually. “Why bother when a dramatic entrance is so much more fun?” Aelin countered.

Because this isn’t a video game and you’re a princess who is supposed to be a good diplomat and ruler? I’ll forgive SJM if Alien becomes queen, pulls dramatic shit like this, and is instantly banished from the kingdom and Darrow is crowned king. I’d pay extra to read that.

Gavriel’s tattooed hands closed into loose fists. “You deny me the right to see my son and yet you barge into our room in the dead of the night to demand we divulge information about our blood-sworn queen.” “One, I did not deny you anything, kitty-cat.”

Gav deserves better than to have to put up with Alien’s edgy teenager bullshit. She sounds straight out of the 2012 internet phase.

Fenrys asks if Alien has Settled yet for.... some reason. It’s explained here;

She knew enough about it—the transition pureblooded Fae, and some demi-Fae, went through once their bodies locked into immortal youth. It was a rough process, their bodies and magic needing months to adjust to the sudden freezing and reordering of their aging process. Some Fae had no control over their power—some lost it entirely during the time it took to Settle.

Basically it’s an excuse for SJM’s character to stay young appearing and beautiful forever. Because if you’re old in a SJM book you’re instantly not hot and therefore, not good enough for porn.

“How does she do it?” Aelin asked baldly. “With Rowan, it’s not … Every order I give him, even casual ones, are his to decide what to do with. Only when I actively pull on the bond can I get him to … yield. And even then it’s more of a suggestion.” “It is different with her,” Gavriel said softly. “Dependent on the ruler it is sworn to. You two took the oath to each other with love in your hearts. You had no desire to own or rule him.”

Are we really out here praising and kissing Alien’s ass for not treating her boyfriend like a slave? Are you fucking kidding me???? Next we’ll have them weeping in joy at Alien wiping her ass after taking a shit.

She gave him a little smile that she knew drove Rowan and Aedion insane, and—yes. It seemed it was a surefire way to piss off any Fae male, because ire flashed across Fenrys’s stupidly perfect face.

I fucking hate Alien. Also we get it, Fenrys is drop dead gorgeous like everyone else, you can stop now.

Fenrys’s edged smile flashed. “Oh, the losses of Fae lives would be of little concern to [Maeve]. It likely just increases her excitement about it.” “Careful,” Gavriel said. Gods, he nearly sounded identical to Aedion with that tone.

Hhhhhh stop I hate Assdion.... stop making me fucking have feelings over how much he resembles Gav....

“If we say she gave us the order to take everything,” Fenrys drawled, bracing his hands behind him on the bed, “will you kill us, Heir of Fire?” “It’ll depend on how useful you prove to be as an ally,” Aelin simply said. The weight hanging between her breasts beneath her shirt rumbled as if in answer.

“That’s it?” Fenrys demanded. “Do we get to know what you plan to do with this information, or are we just your lackeys, too?”

Sorry Fenrys, them’s the rules. You either bow down to SJM’s perfect snowflake protagonist or you’re a villain who deserves to be slut shammed and killed off.

Rowboat and Alien start making out. Skip!

Oh, gods—this. This was what drove her out of her mind—this fire between them. They could burn the entire world to ashes with it. He was hers and she was his, and they had found each other across centuries of bloodshed and loss, across oceans and kingdoms and war.

You’re just making out, it is literally not that deep. I hate SJM trying to sell her romances as epic world stoppers. No, you two are not Aragorn and Arwen. You both are just horny assholes who deserve to rot.

“Even when you’re in another kingdom, Aelin, your fire is still in my blood, my mouth.” She let out a soft moan, arching into him as his hand grazed her backside, not caring if anyone spotted them in the streets below.

JESUS CHRIST HAVE SOME RESTRAINT YOU SHAMELESS FUCKERS. And no, they don’t actually have sex here. Just you wait, SJM has something special in store for that.

Thank god this chapter is over. But it is only a preview into the madness SJM has in store for us several chapters down the road......

[cerastes]

Oooooooh. I meant Fate but now I wanna here about yours.

Well, don’t mind if I do, then! Exorcists in the MAB use “New Exorcism”, a form of spellcraft that falls in the category of “sacrament”. Sacraments are characterized by “drawing power from faith and devotion” more than by utilizing mana. It’s because of this that Sacraments are popular among assassins: By not utilizing mana, there’s no mana residue left. Large amounts of mana residue have a particular stench that alerts those who can smell it that magic was used in the premises.

Right, so parts of this are not yet out due to just Chapter 2 being out, but I don’t mind giving some little details (and it will all be seen in detail in the following chapters, anyways, so a small teaser can’t hurt). Stroln Exorcists use something that is called New Exorcism Arts. It’s a Post-Amnesia summarized and minimized form of the true holy Exorcist techniques that the MAB made to field officers capable of combating Mythics rapidly. Actual Exorcism is a part of the greater holy arts and not a “whole” form of spellcraft itself. The main difference between True Exorcism and New Exorcism is that True Exorcism is far more powerful, but the user must have unwavering faith and devotion towards ‘someone’. The name and religion of this first ‘someone’ was lost in the Amnesia, but now, the Arc stands tall in the city of Stroln, and all “true faith”, let’s call it, is directed at the Arckeeper, the holiest, highest authority in the religion of the Arc. The Holy Arts just need ‘someone’ to be the recipient of this faith, and the more people deposit faith on this ‘someone’, the stronger it is. It doesn’t matter who this ‘someone’ is, as long as everyone, or a large amount of people, are directing this faith towards them. This also means that True Exorcists working together resonate with each other, resulting in stronger holy arts, as their faith coalesces and gets empowered. This is not a good thing: When True Exorcists resonate too well, it can break their bodies and/or minds due to the feedback. True Exorcism already implies a lot of physical and mental strain, and resonation amplifies these to forcefully feed more of the Exorcist into the holy art they are using, kind of like how the candle that burns twice as bright, lasts half as long. True Exorcists, thus, are fielded alone or with other non-True Exorcists, although the latter is rare, as True Exorcists tend to be so fanatical that they don’t let non-True Exorcists interfere in their “holy duties”.

New Exorcism is a System of Magic that is much easier to learn and employ, and it works on a arcane system that is recursive and self-feeding. That is, it works on belief, period. Strong belief and and drive towards ‘something’, even something personal, fuels New Exorcism. The high brass of the MAB designed New Exorcism to work like this because they are no fools: It is extremely hard to have people be devoted to something they don’t really know. The religion might have had many followers Pre-Amnesia, but now? Everyone is mostly trying to look for themselves, and haven’t the time for that, especially in a city as cruel as Stroln. The basis of New Exorcism is the SSSD, or Six Spells of Self Defense. SSSD are the six most fundamental spells an Exorcist must know, and it doubles as a sort of martial art that focuses on neutralizing and subduing foes more than outright killing them. Thing of the SSSD as “Magic CQC” or “Magic MMA” or “Magic Krav Maga”. Due to the self-recursive way in which New Exorcism works, that is, being empowered by the drive of the user more than anything, it is pretty weak compared to other forms of magic: The less complex and more convenient a System Of Magic, the less overall output you’ll get, but this will be explained later in detail. Being so fundamentally based on the user also means that New Exorcism, and the SSSD in particular, show a lot of the user in their application; when Vinn uses In Te Fallitur, the SSSD of Analysis and True Sight, gentle light coats his eyes, but when Bastian uses it, an intense, almost burning light blasts forth from his eyes. The Six Spells are… Going to be revealed in the future.

New Exorcism is still based on True Exorcism, and the passages and incantations to cast the Sacraments come from genuine exorcisms or chants from the Arc. By the way, that is another weakness born from the simplicity of New Exorcism as a System of Magic: Chants and voiced incantations are obligatory. If you can’t speak for whatever reason, you cannot use New Exorcism, except the most basic forms of wielding light, which are as powerful as hitting someone with a broken sword’s hilt, or whipping your out-of-ammo gun at someone. (Outside of universe, the names of the SSSD come from passages from latin Christian chants and prayers; In Te Fallitur is from Adoro Te Devote, Domunus Tecum is from Ave Maria, and a preview for an upcoming one, Hostem Repellas Longius is from Veni Creator Spiritus). True Exorcists can utilize Sacraments with just their thoughts.

New Exorcism is basically your service handgun, your sidearm. This is why practically every Exorcist masters another form of spellcraft aside from the SSSD, since the SSSD is convenient but otherwise weak: Bastian is a Hydromancer, and Vinn is a… Whoops, can’t tell you yet. In general, other magic users, like Onmyouji, Alchemists, Technomages, Shamans, Shootists, Wizards, and such, look down on New Exorcism due to its utilitarian nature: It is literally only made to put down Mythics, while magic, in general, has purposes with far more value, with combat just being a by-product of these other helpful effects. However, these same people will look at True Exorcism with respect and fear; An Exorcist in the MAB that wields True Exorcism not only commands an immense about of power, it also means they are most likely fanatically obsessed with the Arc and the Arckeeper, and will not hesitate to carry out even extreme orders if told to. While a New Exorcist can just put you up against a wall and handcuff you, a True Exorcist user will evaporate you by bathing you in the intense light of penitence. Sacrament this powerful is feared, as True Exorcists are only dispatched on the direst of orders, or to deal with the most dreadful of Mythics or magic users.

The one advantage New Exorcism has over True Exorcism is that it is so simple and personal that it can be seamlessly combined with other Systems of Magic, something not many schools of spellcraft can claim! For example, Bastian combines his SSSD with his Hydromancy to control powerful Holy Water, and empower it further with the individual SSSDs. It is truly a System that shines when used with creativity.

[retrosedes-writing]

Taking Chances

For Ignoct Week, Day 3: Sleep

NSFW Rating: Mature Warnings: unconsenting, somnophilia, voyeurism, graphic descriptions of body parts and sexual activity Summary: While they’re both attracted to each other and very obviously in love, Ignis has created a respectful distance between them over the years in order to maintain a professional relationship with the future King. Noctis and his hormones are frustrated by this constant rejection. When he stumbles across his advisor in a state of unconsciousness, he decides it couldn’t hurt to take a quick peek at something he’s been curious about for a while.

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It was a rare thing to find the prince's royal advisor taking a nap.

Especially if you were the prince himself.

Ignis was usually so focused on work, poring over various Crownsguard files and lecturing the prince on their contents, his finely-shaped eyebrows furrowed to the point that any trace of them had disappeared under the thin frames of his glasses, that to find him with such an open and unguarded expression was quite the treat.

He had fallen asleep propped up in his richly upholstered office chair, his neck crooked to one side at a slightly awkward angle which exposed his larynx more prominently. His arms were crossed over his ribs as if he had dozed off in the midst of thinking deeply. Knowing Ignis, he probably had.

Preparations for their departure from the Crown City had been keeping the advisor on his toes the past couple of days. Maybe he hadn't been getting enough sleep, thought Noctis, examining his face. By contrast, Noctis himself had been dealing with the news of the treaty by getting even more sleep than usual.

Even looking closely, he couldn't really determine if Ignis bore any obvious marks of recent sleep deprivation. What was he, a doctor? For all he knew, Iggy had come out of the womb with slight shadows and creases under his eyes.

His eyes moved further down his advisor's face, drinking in his handsome features while he had the opportunity to stare without being caught. His skin looked soft and well-cared for, his pores healthy and mostly unblemished, populated with the odd couple of freckles or a beauty mark here and there. And lower still, at his mouth...

The sight of his parted open lips was causing something to stir within Noctis.

Firmly ignoring that, Noctis briefly clenched his fist and came to stand beside Ignis's desk.

"Iggy. Hey, Ignis."

He said his name quietly a few times, unsure of how easily he would wake up. Normally, Ignis was a very light sleeper, readily alert at a moment's notice in order to see to the prince's every need. Noctis had a few guilty memories of how he had purposefully woken up his attendant at odd hours of the night just to get him something to drink or play video games with him as a child. He'd only wanted Ignis to pay attention to him - even better if it was just the two of them and too late for anyone to try and get him to study.

After years of charging through every day blasted with caffeine in any form he could acquire it, Ignis's sleep patterns were also irreparably damaged. He must have been exhausted to have passed out in his office like this. Not even tapping lightly on his arm could wake him, although he shifted and stretched slightly, his arms coming uncrossed and falling into his lap.

Poor guy, thought Noctis. Maybe he deserved the rest.

His palm lingered against Ignis's forearm as his eyes were drawn to where Ignis still clasped his own wrist with his other hand, the gap left between his arms perfectly framing his crotch.

Man... Ignis deserved a lot of things.

Noctis swallowed with some difficulty; his throat was suddenly dry and his heartbeat had picked up just as abruptly. He looked around nervously for something to drink and found a half-empty bottle of water on the desk. Uncapping it, he took a swig while he stared at Ignis's sleeping form.

As extra gorgeous as he was this close up, Noctis felt like some of his appeal might be missing somehow. His eyes, perhaps. His well-structured face just wasn't quite complete without those light green hues staring back at him. He could look at those whenever, though. Other things belonging to his advisor, not so much. Ignis had become a very private man after they had stopped sharing the bath together as young children. Noctis had, over time, developed a certain burning curiosity which he had never before had the opportunity to sate.

Here, however...

Noctis glanced at the clock on the wall. Could he really get away with something like that? If he did it quickly? What if he never got the chance again? It was now or potentially never, right?

No, he really, really shouldn't.

Swallowing again, easier this time, Noctis reached out to smack Ignis on the arm, harder this time, until he would wake, but then - didn't. He stopped, taking a long, measured breath.

He set the water bottle down, grabbed a folder from the desk at random, and tossed it very lightly onto his attendant's lap. Ignis's body flinched slightly at the moment of contact, but he didn't wake. Just a reflex. Noctis put the folder back on the desk and messed up the back of his hair in a fit of indecisive tension.

The door to the office was closed. There were fifteen minutes before they had to be anywhere. Ignis was getting some well-deserved rest. Would it really hurt anything for Noctis to take a "well-deserved" peek while he was waiting?

Next thing he knew, he was lifting his advisor's wrists out of the way, depositing them gently at his sides. Was he only imagining that he could already see something there? His heart skipped another beat, stamping an unfamiliar pattern against his chest.

Please don't wake up please don't wake up please don't wake up...

It took him a long moment of hesitation to think of a plan. Dropping his phone on the carpet in case he got caught and needed an excuse for why he was crouching down there, Noctis knelt beside the chair and tentatively reached out with one hand. An immense warm pleasure spread unasked for through his lower half as his fingers splayed across Ignis's crotch. He could already feel a damp spot forming on the front of his own boxers.

Pressing down cautiously, it didn't take long for him to hunt down what he was looking for; the attendant to the crown was a vain man, partial to very well-fitting trousers.

Noctis squeezed the soft shape of his member gently, stroking his thumb along the underside of his sac while gazing up at Ignis's unconscious, flickering eyelids. He breathed cautiously through his mouth, ready to bolt at any time. There was no response from his trusted advisor. Licking his lips, Noctis continued lightly massaging the area, trying to get a good feel of its proportions.

Wait.. was that? Woah. No way.

The more attention he paid to it, the more it filled out the trousers containing it, until his attendant was sporting a rather enormous bulge. Trapped in a curve as it was, Noctis still couldn't tell exactly how big it was. Surely it was just an illusion of the fabric caught around his stiffening cock that made it look so much larger than his own.

Coaxing it ever so gently down Ignis's leg and out of the constraints of his underwear, Noctis accidentally released his breath with a plosive 'k' sound when its full length was revealed. Though not as thick around as it had looked originally, it was certainly still... impressive.

Wow.

Well, seeing was believing, right?

I can't believe I'm doing this.

Giving the head one final rub, Noctis unbuckled Ignis's belt as quietly as possible, unzipped his trousers, and reached inside. His stomach roiled with satisfied excitement as his fingers met with Ignis's warm, soft flesh directly.

Fuck, he had wanted this so badly. Being the prince, he was so deprived of skin-on-skin contact that it was all he could do not to straddle his friend's lap right there, wrap his arms tightly around Ignis, breathe in his cologne, and grind his cock against the expensive shirt he was wearing. He only wished he could get Ignis to look at him and approve.

Biting his lip to keep himself from moaning out loud, Noctis lifted the entirety of Ignis's semi-erect member out from his trousers. It looked so good, felt so good in his hand, he couldn't help playing with it immediately, but Ignis didn't even stir. He had a good few inches on Noctis, as expected, but rather than envy, it only increased his desire.

He couldn't take it anymore, he had to touch himself too. Letting go of Ignis, he pushed the waistband of his cargo shorts down beneath his balls and freed his own erection. The sight of Ignis still fast asleep in his usual office chair but with his dick out on top of his trousers, pulsing faintly in full view, was unbelievably arousing. Noctis wished he could see the advisor like this all the time. He would die, maybe cum his pants first, if Ignis whipped it out in the car or during a meeting. Why did he always have to be so proper?

His hand moved quickly up and down his shaft as he backed his rear against the desk. Eyes half-lidded, watching Iggy, he hopped up to seat himself on the edge of it. Somehow the effort of balancing there while he masturbated heightened his pleasure even more but now, he was too far away from Ignis.

Scooting backwards slightly, Noctis reached his leg out and used his foot to drag the chair closer. He caged the advisor in between his legs, lifting them with his ass pressed firmly against the desk beneath him to rest both his sneakers atop the opposite armrests.

Noctis knew he'd be absolutely fucked if Ignis woke up now, but maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing, if taken literally. Perhaps if Ignis saw how desperate he really was, jerking off to him while he caught a nap, he could finally be convinced to do something about it.

Imagining what it would be like if Ignis took him right then and there, Noctis's breathing quickened and he lifted his shirt, leaning back and closing his eyes tightly. He came on his own abdomen as discreetly as possible, though the desk rocked a bit in time with his movements as he thrust his hips uncontrollably. With each spasm, a little more of his essence leaked from the tip of his abused cock and decorated his bare skin with warm, wet spurts until he was finished.

He exhaled in a long sigh of relief. Something this good would tide him over for a while at least. And who knew what might happen on their road trip? There were a couple enticing possibilities in sharing a tent together. Maybe Ignis would come around to his point of view yet.

Checking to make sure the advisor was still asleep, Noctis located a box of tissues on his desk and cleaned himself up quickly, smirking to himself. As he jumped down, he chucked his used tissues into the wastepaper basket below the desk and leaned in for a kiss. He really couldn't help himself. Even if all it got him was a scolding, he was too euphoric to care.

Right after swooping in for a quick, stolen peck on the mouth, pushing briefly against Ignis's soft, perfect lips to convey all of his feelings in a single unwitnessed moment, Noctis slapped his attendant on the arm roughly to wake him up. Ignis startled to awareness with a jolt, glasses askew to the point of nearly falling off his face, and fixed his confused, pale green eyes on the prince's retreating form.

"Noct?" Ignis queried, clutching the armrests of his chair reflexively, then glanced down at himself as if he felt that something was amiss.

"Might wanna put that away next time before someone less understanding than me comes in to bother you," Noctis remarked wryly as he strode toward the door. "I always wondered why it took you so long to finish working some days."

He stopped at the entrance to the office, turning back to watch a very flustered Ignis standing up while struggling to stuff his junk hastily back into his trousers.

"C'mon, Ignis, you can get your rocks off later," Noctis teased. "You know Prompto's gonna be waiting for us."

Embarrassed, Ignis hurried around the desk to catch up with him. "Very funny, your highness," he said reprovingly, tucking his shirt back in properly as he went. "But please, do me a favour."

"Yeah? Whatever you want."

"Next time, find some other way to entertain yourself. Or better yet, just wake me up."

Oh, don’t worry, I found a way to entertain myself alright, Noctis thought as he continued to walk ahead with a growing smirk on his face. He couldn't believe he had gotten away with something so risky. He’d be thinking about this for a long, long time.

Behind him, Ignis hesitantly touched his own lips with a slight frown, puzzled by the lingering sensation of having been kissed just before he woke up.

--

Later that evening, Noctis was browsing the internet on his laptop when he received an e-mail from his advisor, who had gone back to his office.

You left your phone under my desk... I’ll come by to drop it off later.

... Shit.

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: Hiking with Sam.

Sam x Reader

Content: Fluff & Smutty beginnings

Request @har-rystyles: Hiiii! Hope you're well, I absolutely adore your work! Your way with words is just beautiful. If it's alright, could I request a Sam/Reader fic? Loads of fluff, with a large helping of smut on the side; perhaps where the reader is interested in photography? A walk through the woods with Sam and her camera, or small intimate moments where the reader cant help but capture every detail of Sam that she adores- take it wherever you want! Thank you Xx

Salt mingled in the cool morning breeze, drifting through the forest carrying the scent of the sea from the west. The relaxing psithurism soothed and excited your mind drawing unending waves of energy despite the early hour. As the crisp air kissed your cheeks you grinned unrestrained at the path before you as if the babble of the creek to your right spoke amusing tales to the canopy of new green above. Lingering snow in the pockets of shadows patched the browns of tree bark with bright white allowing the infantile shoots of grass and flowers to appear in the richest of greens. You paused on the path leaning back ten degrees to view the scene through the lens of your camera. You twisted the focusing ring to compensate for the wide landscape and clicked.

“Did you get a good shot?” Sam’s voice; as soft as the spongy soil below your boots, warm like the dancing rays of sunlight drifting through the leaves, and as clear as the brook following the path, asked.

He stood in stealth like silence behind you, body heat mingling between his chest and your back, his breath whispering over your neck. You smiled happily. His company on this adventure of yours enticed joy to well in your chest often provoking the question, “is it a sin to be this happy?”. You tipped the camera to view the picture preview, letting Sam look over your shoulder.

“I think so.” You glanced at him, watching as he studied the picture with considerate attention. “What do you think?”

His lips parted in a fleeting grin. “It’s good, real good.”

Your eyes flickered over the features of his face in rapt interest. Sam Winchester was an ever changing work of art. Emotion and expression twisted, toyed, and colored every inch of his face, whether it was the way his lips twitched in different levels of amusement or disappointment, or the way his brows knitted and smoothed with sympathy or realization- in those fleeting moments the essence of art was born. Perhaps, it was his features, so alike the pallet of the forest you loved.

“What?” Sam chuckled softly as he noticed your staring. “Do I have something on my face or something?”

You shook your head softly, a whimsical smile gracing your lips. “Just thinking…”

“Yeah?” You caught sight of a dimple as he grinned, eyes averted.

“Yeah.”

He scratched his jaw line just under his ear before readjusting his backpack. “So, what else do you wanna take pictures of? We still have time before we get to the top.”

You shrugged, “Whatever interests me.”

You took your time fiddling with the settings on your camera, allowing Sam to step ahead. He stopped taking a moment to look up the length of a Redwood tree. The wind sighed against his hair, tendrils of light caressing the lines of his face. Your heart slammed against your chest, breath stolen. Your camera lifted to your eye automatically. You clicked quickly, afraid to lose the moment. The camera captured the full body shot of Sam at trail’s edge. You zoomed in, trying to steady the excitement vibrating through your hands. Your finger pulled the setting to take multiple shots, then pressed down on the shutter button. Rapid clicks sounded from the camera capturing the scene. You glanced at the result.

The session showed a crystal clear image of Sam’s face bathed in the elfin light. Gold rays highlighted the length of his eyelashes, flushing the brilliance of his eyes to the surface. The color recorded was devastatingly breath taking. As you studied it you couldn’t breath nor tear your focus away. It was like staring into the brook: pale shades of river stone grey touched by flawless cerulean skies formed the backdrop for flecks of liquid amber and touches of new leaf green. As you clicked through the pictures his dark lashes lowered causing the colors of his eyes to deepen richly with every millisecond. The last few pictures were of his eyes completely closed, face luxuriously serene with pale pink lips barely parted.

“You comin’?” Sam startled you from your revere. Your head snapped, mind blank and faltering. “Y/n?”

“Yeah!” You laughed awkwardly to cover your embarrassment. “I’m right behind you!”

You trailed behind him snapping shots of the way light played in the trees and bounced off the stream, yet you always seemed to find Sam, naturally candid and strikingly beautiful. You captured images of him holding up a leaf, dipping his hands in the water, looking into the forest, and many more of him simply existing amongst nature. With every snap, you were unknowingly sucked deeper into determination, vying to record every fraction of Sam with greedy unwavering intent. It wasn’t until you reached the crest of the hill, where the forest opened to a clearing that you realized that you had forgone taking any purely nature oriented pictures. As Sam unpacked his backpack for an early lunch you forced yourself to take a few superficial and thoughtless photos of the area.

“Alright,” Sam shrugged, hands falling to slap his thighs, “All good to go, I guess.”

You flipped off the camera, capping the lens. Sam offered an adorably unsure expression as he glanced from the threadbare blanket spread out below a Pine tree to you. You lips curled as the sight warmed your chest. The spread was by no means fancy, consisting of a couple of pre-wrapped subs and two different kinds of canned soda.

“Aw, how cute!” You gushed plopping down on the blanket.

“Really?” He peered out from under his brows with reserved doubt. “You think this is cute?”

You unlooped the camera strap from your neck, rolling your head to your shoulder as relief flooded the weighted muscle. You set the camera down carefully on the edge of the blanket, then stretched across the blanket to snatch a sandwich. You smiled up at Sam earnestly.

“Of course!” Your brows came together in teasing confusion, “You brought a picnic… How is that not cute?”

Sam lowered to the blanket slowly, tongue pressed behind his teeth as he searched for words. “I don’t know… it’s not like I brought a home cooked meal and a bottle of champagne or something…”

You quirked an eyebrow, “First of all, simple can be cute. Secondly… can you even cook? Also, I hate champagne,”

He laughed softly, “Alright, alright. I guess, I just thought you’d expect more, is all.”

A hesitant vulnerability with a hint of guilt colored his features. The tender expression pulled at your heart driving affection to feel your gaze.

“Maybe I’m just easy going,” You replied with a soft shrug, “but a meatball sub can buy my love.”

“Fair enough,” His dimples reappeared as he grabbed his sandwich.

You emitted an exaggerated moaned as you bit into the sub. “God, this is good. A+ sandwich, Winchester.”

“You can thank Dean.” Sam grinned at your dramatic reaction before taking his first bite. “This is good.”

“I know…” You continued, mouth full, “The bread is still crispy and warm, and the cheese…” you moaned appreciatively, “so much cheese… so gooey…”

“Want some privacy there?”

You pouted. It lost some of its sting accompanied with puffy cheeks. Sam just shook his head with a laugh. Despite starting first, Sam polished off his food and cracked open a soda before you reached the halfway point in your sub. He pointed to your camera.

“Can I take a look?”

You shrugged automatically. He reached across the blanket, shirt pulling up his side as he stretched for the camera. A flash of tan skin caught your eye, the curve of his hip bone held it. The sight made your mind wander and you averted your gaze lost in thought. Suddenly, your brain snapped to reality. You scrambled to grab your camera first only to find Sam already sitting upright again and switching the power on.

“Wait!” You dropped the remainder or the sub to the side, bringing your feet under your knees to lean forward. “Don’t look yet!”

Sam’s face twisted into bemused confusion. “Why? You let me look before…”

You wavered, “Er, yeah, but…”

“What? Don’t tell me this is self-doubting artist type thing…” He nodded to the screen where the last picture you took appeared. “See, this is really good!”

Heat seeped under your collar rising up your neck bringing a nervous sweat to bead. “S-sam… it’s not that…”

“Then what?” He tilted his head finding your eyes with soft concern. He continued with an exhale, “But if you’re uncomfortable, then I won’t look.”

A blush bloomed over the bridge of your nose and swept across your cheeks. You closed your eyes and let out a long breath through pursed lips.

“I’m embarrassed, okay?” You peeked out at him to see him steadfastly watching you with sincere invested interest. The confession tumbled from your lips, unable to hide from his warm eyes. “I took some pictures of you.”

His brows twitched up in surprise. His face brightened, lips pulling back into beguiled flattery. “Really?”

You groaned, rocking back on your heels hiding your face in your hands. “Yes, okay? So, please give it back!”

“No!” Laughter shimmered in his voice. He pulled away as you reached for the camera. “I want to see.”

Your mouth fell open. “You’re seriously not going to give it back? I thought you were the nice one!”

“What?” His brows knitted together good naturedly. He blocked you with his elbow, fending off your grabbing. “Who says I’m the nice one?”

You shot him an exasperated look. “Literally everyone.”

“Well, considering you took my picture without asking, I think it’s fair that I get to look at them without permission.”

Words died on your tongue leaving you to gape in response. His eyebrow lifted in pointed victory before his gaze dropped to the display. You snatched your sub up, taking a rebelliously petulant bite in response. As he flipped through your pictures you eyed his back wearily. Minutes ticked by after you finished your meal, leaving you with nothing to occupy your time, forcing you to wait in building anguished anticipation. You tapped the expanse of metal atop the soda can with a fingernail. The metallic ting cut through the ambient birdsong. You inhaled sharply, spine straightening, when Sam lowered the camera. His expression was unusually indiscernible as he handed the device over. You held your breath as his tongue wet his lip.

“Not your usual stuff, but I can tell it’s still good.” He commented evenly taking a long laid-back, distinctly and annoying nonplussed sip of his drink.

You frowned. Alleviation and discontent thoughts waged a mental battle. Before your emotion could find resolve, your tongue pushed forth your incredulity, “That’s it?”

Sam lowered his soda meeting your skepticism with measured query. “What do you mean?”

“N-nothing!” You set the camera down, careful to keep it safe.

You sighed. Disappointment drifted below your gut and dry, hot emotion squeezed your heart. You heard Sam shift, but managed to keep your pre-planned pace steady instead of glancing his way. Your eyes dragged along the line of navy blanket. An excuse of natural optical movement repeated itself in your mind, but it was all too obvious you were avoiding Sam’s eyes. With a deep breath you lifted your gaze. A yelp caught in your throat, body jumping as you found Sam’s face inches away from yours. The corner of his lips twitched with a ghost of amusement, as if your surprise pleased a hidden patch of sadism. You scowled playfully. The glare vanished when his smile deepened allowing dimples to pinch his cheeks.

“So, why were you taking pictures of me?” Those fascinating eyes kept you pin to the spot. Your gaze darted between them, studying the color. They appeared slightly different in the shade of the tree and so close. Copper hues bloomed from the iris, shading between tones of brown and gold, behind lay the clearest of blues- the type of blue that could only be found in the the purest of flawless skies and virgin pools of water- jade bridged the amber to azul. A burning in your lungs alerted to reality. You exhaled a shuddering breath that caused the tips of his hair to flutter. Sam smirked.

“You’ve got pretty eyes!” You snapped defensively.

His head tilted slightly, eyelashes clicking lower hooding his gaze, bringing the browns to prominence. His gaze found your lips and for a heartbeat you could imagine his lips touching yours. “Just because of my eyes, huh?”

“Well,” You pulled back a fraction before you could lean forward. “Maybe…” He moved forward, chin tilting up, angling to catch your lips from his lower angle. “You’re distracting…”

His gaze flicked up to yours with a charming adoring smile, before falling to your lips again. His hand came to your cheek, fingertips brushing the hairline under your ear as his lips pressed into yours. You gasped at the tender warmth. A tingle like a burning feather sweeping over your heart elicited an achingly frail emotion to surface. His mouth sealed against yours in a soft deliberate reconnoitre; exploring, savoring. His fingers curled behind your neck, thumb caressing your cheek. You gasped for air as he broke away. His nose brushed against yours. You struggled to catch your breath as he waited, gauging your reaction.

“Y/n…” His husky voice retained a breathlessness.

“Sam…” You exhaled. Your vision seemed hazy as you gazed at his beautiful face, brain swimming in euphoria. “Do that again.”

He smiled, chin ducking to chuckle shyly. You touched his cheek, mirroring the gesture he was still doing, but you raked your fingers through his hair at his temple gently, sweeping through his hair, clutching his head as you moved forward to catch his lips. He leaned back, laying against the blanket as you slid beside him. You brushed back his hair, teasing and stroking his lips with a meticulous kiss. His hand slid up your spine, diving into your hair gingerly. The hand on your cheek cupped your chin. When the second kiss broke, you gaze at Sam below you with a sweet smile. He studied your face leisurely, knuckles trailing over your lips before skimming the side of your face and sliding over your brow and into your hair. A painfully fragile smile touched his lips.

“You have gorgeous eyes.” His thumb rubbed the line of your cheekbone.

Your head snapped back in surprise, “Have you seen your eyes?”

A deep chuckle vibrated in his chest, “I prefer yours.”

A tide of heat gushed against your heart. The muscle stuttering in your chest. “Damn Winchester…” A heavy breath rushed from your lungs. “That’s some line.”

Affection tinged his gaze. In an effortless movement, he rolled to his side sweeping you to your back. He pushed back a strand of hair with a callused finger, framing your face with the side of his hand as if to garner an unrestricted view of your visage. He dropped a lingering chaste kiss to your lips.

“It’s true.” He admitted. “You have the most expressive eyes…”

Your eyebrow raised accordingly. He kissed your cheek before you could respond. A blush rose under his unwavering attention despite your wavering efforts to remain calm.

“I love the way the light up when you see something you like…” He kissed your temple eliciting a delicious vibration of butterflies to flutter from your chest through your stomach and into your knees. “I love the way you get lost in your photography, losing sight in everything, but what’s on the other side of the camera.”

He kissed a tender spot beneath your ear that made you squirm. His brows lifted at the discovery, a satisfied smile following. He found your lips, his kisses still gradual and passive. You slipped behind his head, deepening the kiss. His body sank, chest flushing against your side. Seeking a new angle, he turned his head. Your teeth clashed together igniting a primal urgent need. A sudden powerful lust slammed against your core. Your fingers tightened in his hair, back arching instinctively to find his. Your mouths moved together greedily, desperation thriving with every touch. You pulled at Sam’s shirt urging him closer, vying for closeness. His hands clutched the sides of your head, holding you still as he responded in turn. His tongue slipped between your lips, the tip massaging and enticing the nerves of your tongue with practiced control, swallowing the heady moans his ministrations earned. Your hands skipped down his body, finger hooking in his belt loops. In frenzied thoughtlessness, you yanked his hips forward. You could feel his muscles tighten down his body. He paused for a beat, as his hips tilted against you, grinding against your side. A primal groan rumbled in his throat, ending his lapse of movement.

You gasped as he found the sensitive spot on your neck. Hands digging into his shoulders, you arched into him. His kisses became fervent, breaking form your lips to suck a trail down your throat and along your collarbone as he pushed the collar of your shirt lower. His hand, warm and rough, pushed up your torso finding intent in cupping over your chest. He massaged, thumb slipping below the material to toy with the hardening nub. He lowered, mouth parted in purpose. You tugged at his shirt and he paused his goal to wrestle away the material revealing the length of his toned tanned arms. You watched in fascination as he grabbed the back of his shirt’s neckline and pulled it forward. His naked torso wasn’t foreign to you, but knowing it had been revealed for your gaze and touch had a breath catch in your throat. You reached out tracing the lines of his muscles, idly following the path where twin lines disappeared beneath his jeans. He gasped holding back a small shudder when your finger dipped below the fabric teasingly.

His tongue passed over his lips, tender eyes fixated with smoldering captivation on your body as he encircled his hands about your waist and pushed up your shirt. His gaze flicked between the slow reveal of your body and the exposure of emotion in your expression. As you sat up to allow the final emancipation of the fabric, He quickly unfastened your bra, dragging his fingers over your shoulders and down your arms to expedite the divest. The articles littered the blanket in disregard as you dove together again. He grabbed your thighs, sliding his grip under your ass before yanking you from repose to straddling his lap. He kissed you hard sending your mind reeling and body aching with anticipation. Your head fell back in need of air. He spared no moment, ducking his head to seek the sensitive skin along your neck, kissing lower hands supporting your back. His mouth found the peak of your breast. His tongue flicked the nerves, evoking a gasp of pleasure, your fingers flying into his hair pulling gently as you arched your back, breasts pressing against the heat of his mouth. He moved a hand away, thumb skimming along the inside of your thigh.

“A-ah, wait!” You interrupt on a groan.

“What?” Sam pulled back quickly alarm in his voice, concern trading lust. He searched your face, “What?”

You breathed out an amused chuckle at his considerate reaction. “Protection?”

Realization widened his eyes. “Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.” You smiled. “Unless you have that, then maybe we should stop.”

His head rolled back with a groan of disappointment. The candid reaction was unusually childish for the serious Sam you knew and you couldn’t help, but giggle at this unseen side.

“I have a condom in my wallet, but it’s probably unsafe.” He admitted reluctantly.

You slid from his lap detangling your bra from the pile of clothes. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Yeah,” He shot you a dazzling sheepish smile, “Sorry.”

You grinned pressing a quick kiss against his lips. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your clothes fell in place just as a group of teenagers broke from the trail into the clearing. You exchanged a guilty look with Sam before laughing at the timing. You laid back on the blanket, head resting next to Sam’s holding your camera precariously over your faces as you clicked through the pictures, explaining excitedly about your favorite aspects in each photo or what your attempted intentions were. When you finished he grabbed the camera and held it awkwardly at arms length, shaking slightly with the weight, and snapped of photo of you together.

[another-tired-anarchist]

New book about World War Three

I am working on a book that I am going to eventually publish (not online, through an actually publisher to be sold) that is about the Third World War. I am trying to decide if I want to publish the story online at all or just wait so it is completely a surprise when it comes out. The idea is that there is a college student, Kristian Walsh, who keeps having long dreams about soldiers during different eras in wars around the world. He starts having dreams, or "visions" of him fighting in world war three, a war that hasn't happened yet. He uses his so called visions to gain intel and tries to stop the war from happening. Anyway, I am done with two chapters so far but I figured I would post a preview of chapter one to see if anyone is even interested in the book or idea.

My ears were assaulted by a loud noise that I quickly identified as a bomb going off. I felt the ground beneath my feet shake violently causing the ground rushed up to meet me as I fell to my knees, my arms grabbing my head to hopefully provide some sort of protection. Once I felt enough strength I ran behind a large building and leaned against it. I don’t know what kind of bomb it was but telling from the sound and the strength it couldn’t have been that bad.

I clutched my gun to my chest and took a deep breath. The lingering smell of iron was haunting me, reminding me of the blood that soaked the once rich soil. I glanced around me, taking note of what buildings still remained knowing they might not be here for long. I made eye contact with another soldier clad in a green camouflage uniform. He nodded at me before walking out from the building he was behind. Our base isn’t far from here but according to the explosion a mere few moments ago the Russians may have found us. That or they are close. 

I ran my fingers through my brown hair, which was damp from sweat and a lack of proper bathing in at least 5 days. When I looked at the man again he was already at least 50 feet from me. I moved my gun so it hung across my back before sprinting after him. 

“Zamoroz'te!” Someone yelled in Russian. I saw the man freeze as three Russian soldiers came out from behind a building. Being a good distance away from him I quickly ducked into a large building. In this moment I felt so grateful to be positioned in Norilsk because it is an industrial city, full of large buildings. I looked threw the boarded up window of the old shop I was in.

I couldn’t hear what they were thinking but before I knew it the man’s body was on the ground, shot through the chest by the small hand held HELLAD the man is armed with. I felt bile rise in my throat as the two men walked away. I clutched my weapon closer. I know that this is a war but seeing death this close… it is hard. I slowly rose from the cold floor where I had fallen in case they look this direction.

After checking the space around me for any signs of movement I ran towards the man. I knew he was dead but the part of my heart that still had a shred of hope drove me to check for his pulse. I looked at his face and was flooded with guilt. This man had a life, a family. He had so much to live for. I took a deep breath. We all knew the risks… But we also know that if Russia wins this it is over for us all. I gently shut his eyes. He looks like he is sleeping. I took off my top layer and placed it over him, covering his face and part of his chest. 

To replace my upper layer I donned my quantum camo, wrapping it to cover me fully before I started the walk to base. I did not make it far before I heard the near silent rumble of military grade trucks. 

Goddamn it. I turned to my south and sure be it there was a group of trucks heading my direction, the hammer and sickle immediately giving away what side they fought on. I fought the urge to run, knowing it would leave behind footprints in the fresh mud. After taking a few small steps I swore, looking down at my 3 very prominent footprints. Looking up and seeing them close I made the decision to lay on the ground, atop my prints. For the first time in ages, I actually prayed. I awoke with a start, a scream trapped in my throat. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. My face was dampened by the cold sweat I must have broken into at some point in the night. I glances around the darkness of my small room and grasped gently at the small black and white quilt. It was a gift from my grandmother when I graduated high school. She had passed away the year previous and given the blanket to my mother. I smiled at her memory. She was such an amazing woman. With an over exaggerated sigh I forced myself out of the warmth and regretted it the moment my feet hit the cold floor.

I could hear Jonathan’s music playing from his room down the hall. I grabbed a pair of socks and walked, or rather slid, down the small hallway to the kitchen to get some food. I opened the pantry and grabbed a half empty box of cereal. I really need to go shopping, we are low on literally everything. After grabbing a cracked porcelain bowl and pouring in a small portion I went and sat down at the small wooden dining table. 

“God-” I cut my profanity short as I got up again to grab a spoon. As I was riffling through the silverware drawer Jonathan came out of his room and met me in the kitchen.

“G’morning.” He mumbled, attempting to rub the sleep from his hazel eyes. In the mornings his voice usually holds the slightest British accent that he has lost since he moved to the states when he was young. I smiled at him as he grabbed a cup and paused.

“Kristian, do you want a cup of coffee?” He asked, turning on the balls of his feet to look at me. I nodded and went back to my bowl. He handed me the cup and started walking away with the pot.

“Test in Jurisprudence?” I asked, already knowing the answer. He nodded and took a sip from the pot.

“Test’s at noon, I have been up all night.” His voice sounded groggy as he took another swig from the pot. I shook my head as he left and took another bite of my cereal. That kid really needs to get some sleep. I’ll make him go to bed after the exam. I washed my bowl and spoon (Something that Jonathan apparently doesn’t know how to do) before going to my room to throw all of my things in my bag for period one. 

I have my class for Criminology which is in the west building, maybe a 15 minute walk from our shared apartment, right outside of campus. Maybe I will take my bike. As I slung my sky blue and tan bag over my shoulder I thought back to my dream. That is the sixth time this month that I have had a dream like this and I am in the dark for the reason behind them. The air that surrounds me is cold and brisk, the autumn wind breeze gently rustling the brown and orange tinted leafs as the world moved past me.

I drew my hands into the sleeves of my jacket, a small shiver working its way out from my core as a passed the fountain. This fountain always makes me think of my little sister Mia. She is only five but every time mum takes her to visit she loves to throw coins into the water. Everyone loves her so she gets a lot of attention and always ends up surrounded by college students offering her pennies to toss in after her cute little wishes. 

I parked my bike with a sigh with a sigh and made my way quickly to Mr. Gibbs room, hoping to get there in time to get a seat closer to the board to help with my poor eyesight, as well as to set up my laptop in peace. Unfortunately for me by the time I arrived there was already five or six people there. I popped in my headphones and pressed play on my playlist Weichei and the first song to play was Bees by The Ballroom Thieves. I smiled and put in the other headphone, letting the music carry my thoughts away to a beautiful place. 

My mind wrote with such fluidity that I didn’t fully process the words appearing on the paper. I hummed along with the music, feeling it reverberate in my very soul. To my despair the class started after only three short paragraphs. I took out my headphones and set them atop my desk. 

As the teacher droned on I let my gaze fall to my paper and my eyes scanned what I had written and much to my frustration I noticed that about halfway through one of the sentences my words switched from English to Italian, as happens every so often when I get distracted or frantic. I gripped my eraser and erased my work after memorizing the lines translation. 

“Kristian! This is no time for doodling, eyes up front please.” I lightly rolled my eyes before turning back to the board. ‘I once read that I should write something worth reading or I should do something worth writing about.’ I let my eyes focus back on Professor Gibbs. He was an older man, his hair becoming speckled with spots of grey. His eyes still held that spark that only passion can give. Even after 35 years of teaching he still had his passion and I will admit, I admire him for that.

My eyes began to wander around the room, landing on random students, my mind coming up with what their lives may be like. They landed on a boy, his curly jet black hair going to the base of his neck. His eyes gleamed with a curiosity, just like my own. I wonder what his life like? Does he still have all his family or did he lose his father young like I did? What does he do after class? Does he have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?

I focused back on Gibbs, trying to take in what he was saying but my mind seemed to be against me. Looking at the clock and an hour had already passed. I smiled and looked back at Gibbs for the remaining 15 minutes. With the knowledge that I am almost free the class seemed to pass quicker and before I knew it Gibbs was telling everyone their homework and excusing us. I quite literally shoved everything, with the exception of my writing notebook, into my bag before heading to the door. After throwing a fast “Have a good day” over my shoulder I left, just wanting to go back to my apartment.