#Vino Li

[comagaeze]

Vino Li

[deletingmyself]

(by Vino Li)

[blossomandglow]

Photo by Vino Li on Unsplash

[suenosyfantasmas]

LI Bai (Li Po). Poeta chino, (701 - 762). Dinastía Tang, (618 - 907). Máximo poeta de la historia literaria de China.

BEBIENDO SOLO A LA LUZ DE LA LUNA.

(Fragmento).

Entre las flores, un tazón de vino

bebo solo, ningún amigo está cerca.

Levanto mi copa, invito a la luna

y a mi sombra, y ahora somos tres.

Mas la luna nada sabe de bebidas

y mi sombra se limita a imitarme,

pero así y todo, luna y sombra serán mi compañía.

Fuente: Wordpress.com

Creacion digital: Seyfert Art. Arte digital.

Sueños y fantasmas. El arte de soñar.

[requiem-on-water]

“The jellyfish doesn't actively move anywhere; it's just moved with the tides.”

by Nikolay Kovalenko, Uriel Soberanes, Vino Li, Vania Medina, kaaaka liang

[natalievoncatte]

“We should play truth or dare.”

Kara nearly choked on her wine when she realized what Lena had said. That sounded like an amazingly terrible and yet incredibly intriguing idea. She turned to say something when she caught Alex giving her a look that could shatter diamonds. Kara downed the last of her wine and said,

“It’s getting pretty late, Lena.”

“You’re no fun,” Lena said, poking Kara in the center of her chest for emphasis.

Kara was glad she was sober. It wasn’t entirely true that she was immune to alcohol- it just took about a gallon of grain alcohol for her to feel a mild buzz for a few minutes, then have to run to the bathroom as her superhuman metabolism almost instantly forced it out of her system. Alex had “helped” her discover that once back in high school, and they both ended up grounded for a month.

“Come on, Kara. This way I can find out where you’re always running off to. In vino, veritas.”

Kara looked around and saw her own mirrored panic rising in the others. Kelly looked on from the kitchen, the only other member of their little group who was oblivious to the sheer weight of what Lena just said. Nia looked even more green than she had a moment earlier, and Alex was giving Kara a warning look, shaking her head behind Lena.

Brainy, for his part, remained mellow, sipping his grape soda. He was the designated driver for the night.

“Yeah, we need to go,” Nia threw in. “It’s been fun but I have an early day tomorrow.”

“It’s Saturday,” Lena protested, but it came out shaturday.

“I have to get up for yoga,” said Nia.

“We’re all in the same class on Thursday,” said Lena.

“Um, I’m getting ready for the yoga championships. Extra classes.”

Lena raised an arched brow.

Alex cut in, suddenly. “Kelly babe, you ready?”

“If you are. I was going to see if Kara needs help with the dishes.”

“I’m fine,” Kara called out, hearing the alarm in her own voice.

“Lena, are you riding with us?”

“Nah,” said Lena. “I’ll stay.”

Alex cleared her throat.

“How will you get home? You’re sauced, Miss Luthor.”

Lena grinned and looked over at Kara. “I’ll just stay over. I do it all the time.”

Alex’s brows climbed up and she turned to Kara with an incredulous expression.

“When did that start?”

“It’s no big deal. I live on the other side of town and Kara has a nice couch.”

Alex seemed to relax a little. Kara’s heart was trying to slam through her ribs.

“Okay.”

They all bundled out of the apartment, with Alex promising to text and Brainy swearing to let Kara know they were all home safe.

Kara closed the door behind them and turned around. Lena was still curled up on the couch, swirling the last of her wine in the bottom of the glass. She was in leggings and a big, baggy sweater that had been pulled to one side so hard that it almost bared her shoulder. Her hair was down and had gone wavy, falling over one half of her face, making her mysterious and distant. She downed the last swig of wine and put the glass down.

“We could still play truth or dare.”

“Lena,” said Kara. “You’re really drunk.”

“So are you.”

Kara swallowed, hard, feeling the bitter bile of her lies at the back of her throat. She wasn’t drunk at all. She was barely even tired; the city had been miraculously calm all summer.

“Which is it, Kara? Truth or dare.”

“Neither,” said Kara. “I think what you need is some sleep.”

Lena rested her glass on the coffee table, in the middle of a game of Monopoly that they’d all been too drunk to finish.

(Except Kara. Lena would have won, because Kara always agreed to whatever trade Lena offered, because saying no to Lena was harder than lifting a submarine over her head)

Kara leaned back against the kitchen counter coolly, trying not to betray her emotions. That turned into a job for Supergirl as Lena rose from the sofa with seductive grace, stalking across the loft with feline intensity. She was at once cuddly and soft in her sweater and a seductive vamp with her long inky locks pulled over one shoulder and the other bare.

Kara’s eyes locked on the bared skin, soft and creamy and crying out for a warm touch, then pulled away sharply as she willed herself not to ogle her best friend. It was a losing battle. Every step brought Kara back to the sway of her hips or the way her leggings gripped her thighs or the soft promise of her curves beneath that sweater.

Kara was starting to think she might be gay.

Lena stepped into her space. With both of them barefoot, Kara had a notable height advantage. Lena reduced it by rising on her tiptoes and threw her arms around Kara’s neck.

Kara had few weaknesses. Kryptonite. Magic. If kept up long enough, oxygen deprivation.

Lena Luthor.

She was so close that Kara could taste her breath, the fruity tang of the wine and the soft, inviting scent of Lena beneath her perfume. She was wearing a soft pink lip gloss that drew Kara to stare at her lips. She could almost feel them without touching. Her blue-green eyes were dark and sultry, and she leaned in on Kara, pressing the soft weight of her breasts against her chest.

Kara’s pulse went like a hummingbird and her knees went wobbly, but she simply ignored gravity.

Kara had other advantages. She could see the heat bloom on her skin and feel the change in he skin conductivity, and hear her heart racing. Lena’s pulse nearly matched her own.

Before she knew what she was doing, Kara had her hands resting on Lena’s sides just above her hips, moving on pure instinct. All she’d have to do was dip her head a fraction and she’d be kissing her. She was so close.

“Please pick dare,” Lena whispered.

It too every fiber of her being not to say “dare,” but she held her tongue. She also held Lena.

“I can’t. You’re drunk and I’m not.”

“Hi drunk, I’m dad.”

“Lena! This is serious!”

“Oh, you’re serious. I thought you were daddy.”

“Lena!”

“I dare you to…”

Kara pressed her finger to Lena’s lips.

“Lena, please listen. You’re drunk. I’m not. If you still want to do… whatever this is… in the morning, I… I want that. But not like this.”

Lena frowned and Kara thought she might die of sheer sorrow right there.

“Okay. Should I go home?”

“No, absolutely not. Just… do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll explain in the morning. I promise I’ll,” she swallowed hard, choking down the fear. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“Okay.”

Kara sighed and scooped Lena up, easily taking her weight in her arms. Lena yelped and hugged tight around her, clinging close and pressing cheek to cheek. Kara wanted to kiss her so bad that it ached in her chest, throbbed in her veins, but she didn’t. She carried her to the couch.

“Wait,” Lena said. “Can’t I sleep in the bed with you? I promise I won’t try anything.”

Kara nodded, mentally wincing. She carried Lena around to the bed and laid her down, drawing the blankets over her and settling her head on the pillow.

She had a choice to make her. The right thing to do, the honorable and chivalrous thing, would be to go sleep on the couch. She knew that, but the very idea of it was anathema to her.

To her credit, she stepped out of the bedroom to change and she put on pajama bottoms.

Kara took the far side of the bed, staring straight up. She didn’t expect to sleep a wink, but somehow she drifted off.

When she woke up, there was a weight on her. She looked down and found Lena pillowed on her chest. With a sigh, Kara rolled onto her side and drew Lena close, sheltering the other woman in her arms. In sleep she looked peaceful, so free of the worries and fears and anxieties that dogged her when she was awake.

Kara knew she should stop stroking Lena’s hair, knew she should let go of her, but the soft, hypnotic beat of Lena’s heart was nothing she could escape. She held Lena a little tighter, her own heart fluttering when Lena murmured her name on her sleep and hugged her back.

They woke up like that, Lena tucked in close under Kara’s chin. Lena was already awake when Kara woke up.

“Hi,” said Lena.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“Head hurts.”

“I’ll get you something,” Kara said, starting to rise.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Lena, tugging her back down. “You said you were going to tell me everything.”

Kara froze.

“How much of last night do you remember?”

“I remember the part where I tried to climb you like a tree and you bridal-carried me to bed and tucked me in,” said Lena. “And the part where you started hugging me like a teddy bear.”

“You started that.”

Lena snorted. “Why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Like I said, you were drunk, and I can’t… not until I… you don’t know everything.”

Lena sighed, looking away, and then looked up.

“So, truth then. Are you Supergirl?”

Kara flinched back, momentarily struck numb. If she was asking that, it meant she knew the answer.

Lena stared at her hopefully, almost pleadingly, her big pretty eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She bit her lip and Kara melted, feeling herself turn to goo.

“Yes.”

Lena let out a long sigh of blessed relief, closing her eyes.

“Lena?”

“It’s my turn. I pick truth.”

“Okay, um,” said Kara, “why did you ask me why I didn’t kiss you?”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Because you’ve been staring at me like I’m a bowl of potstickers for years, and I was wondering if you were ever going to make a move.”

“Why would I look at you like you’re food?”

“I meant you were looking at me like I’m something you want to eat, Kara.”

“I’m not that kind of alien.”

Lena tensed, breathing sharply as she looked stunned and a little hurt.

“Wait,” Kara blurted, “oh Rao that was a joke, I didn’t mean I don’t want to… I really do want… I just , I’m… I don’t know what to say now.”

“I’m in love with you,” Lena sighed.

Kara froze. “You… you’re… with me… IIloveyoutoo.”

The mashed-together declaration had barely escaped her lips when Lena lunged closer and kissed her. From there it was pure chaos. Lena pulled and Kara followed, rapidly ending up on top of her as she shimmied out of last night’s outfit.

Kara pulled back from a soul-burning kiss as she felt the heat of Lena’s bare skin under her hands.

“Wait,” she said. “If I picked truth last night, what would you have asked?”

Lena smirked.

“Why do you stare at my chest all the time?”

Kara laughed, snorting a little.

“I’ll show you.”

[maureen2musings]

Vino Li

[occhietti]

Dicono che tutti i giorni dobbiamo mangiare una mela per il ferro e una banana per il potassio. Anche un'arancia per la vitamina C e una tazza di Tè verde senza zucchero, per prevenire il diabete.

Tutti i giorni dobbiamo bere due litri d'acqua anche se poi espellerli richiede il doppio del tempo che hai messo per berli.

Tutti i giorni bisogna bere un Actimel o mangiare uno yogurt per avere i "L. Cassei Defensis", che nessuno sa bene che cosa cavolo siano, però sembra che se non ti ingoi per lo meno un milione e mezzo di questi bacilli tutti i giorni, inizi a vedere sfocato.

Ogni giorno un'aspirina, per prevenire l'ictus, e un bicchiere di vino rosso, per prevenire contro l'infarto. E un altro di bianco, per il sistema nervoso. E uno di birra, che già non mi ricordo a che cosa serva. Se li bevi tutti insieme, ti può provocare un'emorragia cerebrale, ma non ti preoccupare perché non te ne renderai neppure conto...

Tutti i giorni bisogna mangiare fibra. Molta, moltissima fibra, finché riesci a evacuare un maglione.

Si devono fare tra i 4 e 6 pasti quotidiani, leggeri, senza dimenticare di masticare 100 volte ogni boccone. Facendo i calcoli, solo per mangiare se ne vanno 5 ore. Ah, e dopo ogni pranzo bisogna lavarsi i denti, ossia che dopo l'Actimel e la fibra lavati i denti, dopo la mela i denti, dopo la banana i denti... e così via finché ti rimangono tre denti in bocca, senza dimenticarti di usare il filo interdentale, massaggiare le gengive, il risciacquo col colluttorio... Meglio ampliare il bagno e metterci il lettore di CD, perché tra l'acqua, le fibre e i denti, ci passerai varie ore.

Bisogna dormire otto ore e lavorare altre otto, più le 5 necessarie per mangiare, 21. Te ne rimangono 3, sempre che non ci sia traffico. Secondo le statistiche, vediamo la televisione per tre ore al giorno. Ma no! Non si può, perché tutti i giorni bisogna camminare almeno mezz'ora.

Bisogna mantenere le amicizie perché sono come le piante: bisogna innaffiarle tutti i giorni per mantenerle in vita.

Inoltre, bisogna tenersi informati, e leggere per lo meno due giornali e un paio di articoli di rivista, per una lettura critica.

Ah!, si deve fare sesso tutti i giorni, però senza cadere nella routine: bisogna essere innovatori, creativi, e rinnovare la seduzione.

Tutto questo ha bisogno di tempo. E senza parlare del sesso tantrico.

Bisogna anche avere il tempo di scopare per terra, spolverare, lavare i piatti, i panni, stirare e non parliamo se hai dei figli o un cane.

Insomma, per farla breve, i conti danno 29 ore al giorno. Non c’è niente da fare: devi fare varie cose insieme. Si chiama multitasking, non c’è altra soluzione! Per esempio, ti fai la doccia con acqua fredda e con la bocca aperta, così almeno ti bevi i due litri canonici. Mentre esci dal bagno con lo spazzolino in bocca e fai l’amore (tantrico) con il compagno/a che nel frattempo guarda la TV e ti racconta, mentre tu lavi il pavimento. Ti rimane una mano libera? Chiama i genitori o qualche amico. Dopo aver chiamato i genitori, avrai senz’altro bisogno di un goccio di vino per tirarti su. Il Bio Puritas con la mela te lo può dare il partner, mentre si mangia la banana con l’Actimel, e domani fate il cambio.

Mi è venuta la confusione mentale.

Adesso ti lascio, perché tra lo yogurt, la mela, la birra, il primo litro d’acqua e il terzo pasto con fibra della giornata, già non so più cosa sto facendo. So che devo andare urgentemente in bagno. E ne approfitto per lavarmi i denti. Però, se ti rimangono due minuti liberi, invia una copia ai tuoi amici, che devono essere annaffiati come una pianta.

Se ti avessi già mandato questo messaggio, perdonami. È l’Alzheimer che, nonostante tutte le cure, non sono ancora riuscita a debellare.

web - Autore sconosciuto

[hotwifemia]

Da li vaši momci/muževi gledaju sport?

Moj gleda, kada mu dozvolim... Nekad ga pustim da počne, a onda pošaljem po vino i na sve ��etiri... 😊😊😊

[joelmillerisapunk]

WIP Wednesday

Tysm @milla-frenchy for the tag 🥰

I have a million things in my docs, it's a disaster in there 😅

Wine daddy/sending the wrong nude to your dbf instead of your tinder match

The next morning, you wake up to a message notification. Your heart leaps, thinking it's Tinder Joel, but as you reach for your phone, a sense of dread washes over you. The message is from your father's best friend, Joel Miller, a man you've known since childhood and who has seen you grow up. The preview of the message is enough to make your blood run cold.

11:58: "I think you might have sent this to the wrong person, sweetheart."

Panic sets in as you read the full message and your face flames with embarrassment. You type out a flurry of apologies, each one more frantic than the last. Joel's response is swift and unexpected

8:05am: It's all good, baby girl. You don't need those Tinder boys when I'm right here for ya.

Determined to apologize in person and clear the air, you find yourself outside the sleek glass building that houses Joel's wine company Vita Vino: where every sip is a celebration of life. You certainly don't feel very celebratory at this moment. The receptionist leads you up to the top floor, where Joel's office overlooks the city with floor-to-ceiling windows.

Some random thing I just found in my docs

You reach out tentatively, your fingers brushing against the coarse hair on his legs, feeling the solid muscle beneath his skin. You let your hand drift over to where his boxers lay. With a mixture of reverence and desire, you hook your fingers under the fabric and carefully pull it down just enough to reveal what lies beneath. His cock is there in its resting state—impressive even in repose—thick and long with a softness that belies its potential for hardness and power. You remember how it feels when it grows rigid in your hand or against your thighs; how it fills you completely when he's inside you; how it satisfies an ache within you that only he can reach.

Npts: @pascalssbabyy @sawymredfox @mermaidgirl30 @katiexpunk

@604to647 @bitchesuntitled @alltheirdamn @sixhours @pedrosarmsling

@aurorawritestoescape @vivian-pascal @mothandpidgeon @starry-eyes-love @magpiepills

[bookmunchies]

Hahahahahaha, twinning tnght, al kako nisi znala da je jak, bas zato se i pije dzin tonik obicno, ja na svadbi rekoh konobaru, naspi mi dzin a on na to dzin tonik? ok i odma podje, morala sam da ga hvatam da mu kazem da cu cist, ne volim gazirano a dzin tonik ko gaziran, svjedno, on mene gleda ko da ne sme da toci cisti dzin, ono kao ej brate, morala sam mu ponovit i on meni pa koliko ces da ti naspem? sta to uopste znaci, pa imas casu za dzin i spias sta znam visina zavisi od toga da li ga sluze s ledom, ali posto smo trebali uskoro da idemo, ja njemu kazem pa nzm naspi dva prsta, kad on kaze da ce nasut pola case, ja mislim ono ok, pila sam i vise bice ok, i pristanem kad meni on dade pola case za sok dzina, ja se sva zbunila. ko daje dzin u casi za sok sta je to, inace je grk ko cemer zar ne, pa ko ga moze toliko popit ja nzm, ali ja nisam taj tip.

I rly didn't think gin was that strong like.... auwgh?

[famousinuniverse]

Cafayate, Salta province, Argentina: Cafayate is a town in Salta province, in northwest Argentina. It lies in the Calchaquí Valleys, an area known for its reddish rock formations. Many vineyards dot the land, and in town the Museo de la Vid y el Vino explains the process of winemaking. Near the town square are the Rodolfo Bravo Regional and Archaeological Museum, with objects from local excavations, and the 19th-century Our Lady of the Rosary cathedral. Wikipedia

[requiem-on-water]

by Vino Li

[3-2-whump]

You Told Me It Had Stopped

<prev next>

Hi again, everyone! Ready for more pain and angst? (I wasn't asking!)

So hard to believe we're reaching the end of this story! With only five more chapters to go after this one (unless I cram in more story at the last minute), things are only gonna get crazier from here, but hopefully, it'll be just as satisfying as the last few chapters.

Shoutout to my amazing beta readers @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz , this chapter would not be what it is without them!

This chapter will have links within it referring you to previous chapters. If you have not read In Vino (et Venenum) Veritas or Tying Up Loose Ends, I'd highly suggest you give those a peek

TW/CW: slave whump, intimate whumper, manipulative whumper, emotional angst, prostitution, dehumanization, blackmail, referenced noncon, forced to watch (though not in the traditional sense)

“GOAL!” the announcer’s voice rang out over the laptop’s speakers.

Nico and Khaled cheered in unison as Portugal secured its place in the quarterfinals. Nico wrapped an arm around Khaled to hug him close, but a flash of purple from Khaled’s shirt collar stopped him.

Khaled sensed the change in atmosphere immediately. “Wait, what’s wrong?” he asked, his smile waning slightly.

“Is that a hickey?”

The sounds of cheering from a stadium half a world away were forgotten as Khaled’s smile dropped completely. He instinctively tried to adjust his shirt collar, but Nico grasped his hands in his own before he could. “Is that a hickey?” he asked again, tone serious.

Khaled nodded as his eyes turned downwards. Nico let go of his hands, frowning all the while. “I thought it had stopped,” he said, letting the disappointment creep into his voice. “You told me it had stopped, Khaled.”

“It did stop,” Khaled answered, eyes still downcast. “But then… it started up again…”

“I thought he was paying you to be his executive assistant-”

“Oh he is,” Khaled replied tersely, “and he’s paying me for this too.”

Nico faltered. “But, how –why –how could you?” Nico told himself the anger he felt was supposed to be for the Boss, and that he was misdirecting it at Khaled, who was already going through so much already. Though, if he was being completely honest with himself, his anger at Khaled wasn’t that misdirected. He was so, so tired of being lied to. “Fuck the money, why would let him do it again?!” he demanded.

“Why would I let him do it again? Do you think I have any choice in this?”

“No –yes –wait, no?” Nico shook his head. “I don’t know. What I’m trying to say is, you could’ve turned down the money, couldn’t you?!”

“Like fuck I could!” Khaled argued. “Are you the one saving up for his freedom? Don’t talk to me about money, Nico!”

“What good is money and freedom when it means losing your self-respect, and your friendship with me, Khaled?!”

Khaled made an exaggerated snort. “Some friendship we have! Remember when you took me out drinking, and I got so drunk I told you everything?”

Nico cringed at the memory, and more importantly at what came after. Khaled noticed his discomfort right away and dug his claws in deeper. “And do you remember when the Boss paid you off to keep silent about me, and you fucking took the bribe?”

“He was holding my tuition hostage-”

“Your tuition –he’s holding me hostage!”

“-That was not a bribe!”

Khaled ignored the minute distinction. “It still hurt, you know!” And then, he locked eyes with Nico. “My first and only friend since I was stolen to this awful place turned his back on me, and all I asked myself was why wasn’t I good enough, why wasn’t I worth defending!” Despite the black flames of vitriol in his eyes, Nico could see a faint, vulnerable sheen of tears. 

“Wait, shit, no-” he began to apologize. The damage was done as Khaled shoved his coat on and walked to the door. Nico belatedly reached out his hand. “I’m sorry, Khaled! I didn’t mean to hurt you like that! Come back-”

“Go fuck yourself!” Khaled cried. “It’s not like you want to be friends with someone who sells themselves, anyway,” he murmured angrily as he let the door slam behind him.

Nico was left all alone with his regrets as the game played on his laptop in the background.

-

Three days after they had that argument, and Khaled had not seen Nico for lunch since. That was entirely expected though. He had hurt his friend immensely, and, three days later, he was still no closer to coming up with a sufficient apology for what he’d said. He decided to at least add the new mark to his log, although he regretted not being able to snap a covert picture of it to add to his records. He ducked into his backpack’s inner pocket to retrieve his flash drive, where he made it a habit of storing all evidence of Khaled’s abuse for future reference.

It was not in the inner pocket.

Well, maybe it’s in the bottom of my backpack? Nico reasoned. He methodically took out each textbook and groped around the bottom, shining his cellphone light down there, too.

It was not at the bottom of his backpack.

Where is it?! Nico tore through his backpack, searching it thoroughly, even so much as to turn it upside down and shake it. He checked every desk drawer again and again, and emptied every pants and jacket pocket. Still no flash drive.

A chiming sound from his monitor signaled an email, a high priority one at that. Nico paused his tearing apart of the guard shack to view it.

One (1) new message from The Boss

Nico clicked it.

Looking for something? Meet me downstairs to retrieve it.

It was succinct, yet it elicited so much dread. He gulped.

As if crossing the parking lot late at night in the dead of January wasn’t creepy enough, Nico stood at the top of the stairwell leading to the infamous T & I cellar, feeling the winter’s chill even inside the brick and mortar walls of the mansion. Even from the top of the stairs it smelled like dried blood, and the dimness of the room below made it look as if the stairs descended into an abyss. He steeled his nerves and descended into the abyss, step by concrete step, painfully aware of how much noise his shoes made in the quietness of the empty building.

Even though he had seen the T & I cellar in the security footage, Nico realized nothing compared to being down there in person. Dusty, red bricked walls arched into a curved ceiling where two overhead lamps dangled unlit like limp, long dead jellyfish. The fireplace was concealed behind a large white sheet, stretched taut and glowing bluish white over the expanse of the wall. The opposing wall still boasted its rack lined with various instruments of torture out in the open. In the middle sat one large table with scratch marks furrowed into its edges, and large mottled stains of red that could be traced down to the concrete floors below. Nico thought he would be sick just looking at the bloodstains alone. There were chairs pulled up to that table, though, one of which was occupied by the boss Don Costa himself, looking mighty smug in the dimness of the room. Near the edge of the table was a projector and a laptop, operated by Khaled, who stood silently beside the table bearing his own bloodstains as if he weren’t affected at all. His dark brown eyes flitted to Nico once, possibly just to confirm he was there, before resolutely fixing back onto the laptop and projector in front of him. Nico couldn’t blame him for being mad at him still.

“Nico Clemenza,” Don Costa greeted, breaking the tension between the two friends, “do you have any idea why you’re here?”

I’m not in trouble, I’m not in trouble, I’m not in trouble -am I? Nico thought. That tone of voice and the whole context of meeting in the T & I cellar certainly seemed to contradict that. “You have something that I’m looking for, sir?” He didn’t mean for it to be asked like a question, but right now he wasn’t sure what the safe answer would be.

“That’s right,” his boss affirmed, smirking condescendingly. “I got a little tip-off from Bennie and Michael last weekend that you have been rather cagey about a certain flash drive.”

Dad and Uncle Mike? The last time Nico had seen them was when he’d just visited home last weekend. He had gotten into an argument with his uncle over Khaled’s treatment, and he had pushed his dad out of his room when he’d asked about the flash drive labeled ‘Saved Footage’. Did they go through my stuff when I wasn’t there? Did they find the flash drive and snitch on me?! He knew the oath of loyalty these men had taken, but the betrayal by his own family still hurt.

“I asked Khaled about it, but my poor pet didn’t seem to know what it was for, either,” the boss continued. “So you can imagine how he reacted –how both of us reacted, when we plugged it in and saw all that saved footage.”

Nico’s face paled in horror, eyes widening as he realized how years-worth of Khaled’s torture saved to his personal device must have looked out of context. He quickly turned to Khaled to beg for his understanding. “Khaled, I can explain, it’s not what it looks like!” he protested. His friend finally turned toward him, delicate lips downturned into a slight frown. “I don’t know what he told you, but please, believe me, I can explain!”

“Oh, we know what it looks like,” Don Costa sneered. “It’s funny, I always wondered why you were so interested in my slave, but now it makes perfect sense!” He laughed as Nico’s jaw worked up and down, sputtering in a pathetic attempt to verbally defend himself. Khaled meanwhile stayed still as a statue, focusing only on the laptop screen in front of him. “I could just get you your own once you graduate, you know, like as a graduation present. You don’t have to lower yourself to befriend mine.” He tilted his head toward the projector. “So, here you were, playing at being friends with my pet while stealing away all those moments caught on film the whole time, whether it be for your own pleasure or-” The older man raised his eyebrows as a mischievous sharpness glinted in those cold gray eyes. “-Maybe you’re uploading them somewhere for the pleasure of millions?”

Nico choked a little at the baseless accusation.

“But, whether you’re saving them for your personal spank bank or uploading them to a porn site, you are still called down here for violating your NDA,” Thomas concluded. He whipped out a stack of papers and dramatically slammed them onto the table, the impact echoing a bit in the otherwise silent room. Nico eyed the stack of papers warily. When he first started working for Costa Insurance, he did what anyone else would and skimmed the document for the right places to initial or sign. Now, as a nearly completed law student, he recognized the weight of the consequences that violating an NDA would lead to.

“Go on, have a seat.”

Nico approached the table like a death row convict on the way to his execution. He lowered himself into the chair and stared down at the document before him, thumbing through its pages as he now read every word. He obviously must have taken too long, as the man seated in front of him cleared his throat impatiently as he murmured, “Page eight, paragraph B.”

Nico flipped there. “There shall be no extraction or publication of client’s names, addresses, accounts, or other personal information outside the grounds of Costa Insurance,” he read aloud.

Before he could ask for an explanation, Don Costa turned toward his slave, who had remained silent throughout the whole thing. “Khaled, play February 9, 2018.” Khaled typed into the laptop almost robotically as he brought up the footage from the specified date. There, projected on the makeshift screen for all three viewers in the room to see, was footage of Khaled lying naked on the ground with his hands tied behind his back, a silk tie wedged into his mouth, and Jaime’s boot on top of his head. Nico recognized it from the Key Game era.

“See, there,” the boss pointed out, referring to a desktop screen in the peripheral of the video.

Nico scoffed. “But you can hardly even read that!”

“Nevertheless, there is sensitive client information on that computer screen that cannot leave these grounds.” He nodded toward Khaled. “September 24, 2018.” Khaled obeyed, his face a calm mask of detachment as he pulled up another video of his own tortures. The next scene featured Khaled, on his knees, sucking off Nico’s uncle as he and the Boss talked business. “There, on the coffee table,” Don Costa directed him. The list of phone numbers was slightly more legible than the previous leak of sensitive information. A pit of dread opened in the bottom of Nico’s stomach. How many more of these videos coincidentally contained sensitive information in their periphery? Were they placed within the camera frame on purpose?

“Khaled, November 21-”

“I get it, I get it,” Nico objected, palms raised up. “I fucked up, I get it. So, what do you want me to do about it, sir?”

Don Costa’s mouth upturned into a sickening grin. “Easy! Destroy the flash drive, take down whatever videos you posted, and, should this data leak come to bite us in the ass one day, take full responsibility for it and resign,” he explained.

Destroy all the evidence? Nico gulped. He wasn’t keen on losing years’ worth of documented human rights abuses, but he also didn’t want to deal with the threat of litigation.

“What are you willing to give to see Khaled happy and free, as he should be?” Julio’s question haunted him. Nico summoned his courage to look the bastard in the eyes. “And if I refuse?” he asked.

Khaled visibly perked up, shooting a questioning glance at Nico’s rare moment of defiance. Meanwhile, the smile dropped off Thomas’ face. “Then I reenact every single thing I’ve done to Khaled that you’ve saved on that little flash drive of yours,” he threatened. Khaled’s attention focused back onto his master, and although Nico may have imagined it, the young man trembled. “You have years’ worth of footage, and the night is still young.”

“You’re bluffing,” Nico replied, ignoring the certainty in his mind that this man was not bluffing. “You nearly killed him last spring when you carved his back open! Are you really going to take that risk again?”

The boss merely shrugged. “He survived the last time, why not?” he asked nonchalantly.

Khaled’s face paled, taking on a sickly color as his trembling worsened. Nico folded. “Okay, okay, fine!” The last thing he wanted to see was Khaled getting tortured and knowing he could’ve stopped it. Nico thrust forward a reluctant but outstretched palm. “Give me the flash drive, and I’ll smash it right here,” he promised.

Khaled breathed an almost-imperceptible sigh of relief, but the boss stopped him just before he could unplug the flash drive. “Wait, before you smash it, I just gotta know…” He smiled conspiratorially at Nico. “What part was your favorite?”

-

Nico waited patiently for the phone on the other end to pick up that night, drumming his fingers against his desk as he overlooked the city from his bedroom window. Eventually, the repetitive ringing was replaced by a very loud Pitbull remix, followed by a heavily accented “Alvarez Auto and Motorcycles, what do you want?”

“Yeah, can you tell me my status on my radiator hose? Did you use a 9-mm wrench?” Nico asked, well-practiced in the Juicio Divino code by now. The person who had picked up the call fell silent, the music thumped on in the background, and eventually a new voice carried over the phone.

“What are you calling me for, I told you only to call me if it was an emergency!” Julio yelled. There were light shuffling sounds, and then no background music at all, an indication that Nico’s partner in crime had moved to a more private place to talk.

“We need to try to kill him again,” Nico explained, getting straight to the point. “Things are getting worse on my end.”

“Worse, what do you mean worse?” Julio’s breath hitched a little. “Does he know you’re working with me?!”

“No, he –he found my flash drive,” Nico explained. “Made me destroy it. That’s four-ish years of evidence, gone.”

Julio went silent for a couple seconds before coming to the same conclusion. “You’re right. We need to kill him again. And this time, I won’t miss.”

“We won’t miss,” Nico corrected. “We’re in this together, partner.”

The static-y sigh on the other end of the line made Nico’s heart do something weird and tingly. “Yes we are,” Julio conceded. He hung up. Nico brought the phone down from his ear and caught his own reflection in the window. He was smiling.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@defire

[rose-tinted-vision]

Rose's Cdrama fic rec list

(in no particular order, and not very recent)

Mysterious Lotus Casebook

Fanghua

In this dream, there is a lover to share this life with by coreoftheabyss

来日方长 | the days ahead are long by mimosaeyes

Both past and present by Lukaji

Difanghua

it was you all the way down by acrobats

far from the shore by willowcatkin

Step by Step by the20sbard

and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart by sarahyyy

Guardian

I thought it was you by spinningthreads

In the customary manner by teaotter

some stars fall home by frith_in_thorns

How to lose a black cloaked envoy in 10 days by qikiqtarjuaq

Purple (Like the Open Fields) by anecdotalist

Secret Identities and the Friends that keep them by MeridianGrimm

Gen

Keep me in your heart by surreality

Secret identities and the friends that keep them by MeridianGrimm

Hikaru no Go

The future that I missed by liuet

Invisible by Neery

The Anniversary by chapatifordays

Friends don't let friends play Weiqi with Strangers alone by Bookgrotto

The Blood of Youth

mending bridges (we'll build them together) by marquisguyun

grieving by ThebanSacredBand

win three, lose one by plingo_kat (Xiao Se/Tang Lian)

The Yin Yang Master: Dream of Eternity

Ask me no questions (and I'll tell you no lies) by Momokai

And tell me will love be there by Desdemon

in vino veritas by Pandelion

no atheists in a foxhole by Pandelion

[hueynomure]

"I just call them as I see them, Adrien dear," the saccharine girl giggled as she hooked her arm around his. "Pane al pane, vino al vino, as we Italians say - bread to bread, wine to wine."

Felix had to employ all his self-restraint not to grab the arm wrapped around his and snap it in three, not to mention keeping up his cousin's trademark Golden Retriever smile. "Russians have a similar saying," he lied, letting a few drops of venom color his tone. "Their version goes "bread to bread, blood to blood"."

This Lila harpy instinctively took a step back, eyes wide in alarmed surprise.

Felix tilted his head, schooling his expression in a textbook Stepford smile, and she took another cautious step back. Good. Stay the hell away from "me". "Isn't language fascinating?"